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Chapter 9: Yet to Come


Zuko took off after Katara, and instantly he found himself outside, in the deeply shadowed alleyway.

His eyes fell on Katara ahead of him. She stood some distance away, amidst rusted out pipes and rotting barrels. Her eyes were darting everywhere, to the empty street beyond, the sagging roof of the next warehouse over, back toward the maze of alleyways between the other buildings—however, at last she slumped, head bowing in defeat.

"She's gone," Katara said dully. "We won't catch her now."

The alleyway was silent for a full minute. Zuko didn't move, he barely breathed. He readied himself for the explosion.

Katara said nothing. He watched as her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, a tremor passing across her shoulders, like the foreshock of a coming earthquake. At last, she slowly turned to face him, and though she said nothing, he could see the furious questions burning in her eyes. Why did you bring me here if you were just going to let her go? Don't you know that everyone—Aang and your mother and everyone else—is in danger now? Zuko, do you know what you've done?

However, after a moment she dropped her eyes from his. She let out a short, harsh breath, then stiffly turned back around. Without a word, she started toward the alley mouth, back toward the streets.

"Katara, wait," Zuko pleaded. He stepped forward, hand outstretched. "Please—let me explain."

Katara halted in mid-step, but she didn't turn. He could see the tendons standing out on her wrist, even through the dark material of the cuffs on her arms.

Zuko folded his hands together and bowed his head. "I'm...sorry I brought you here, Katara. I should have known I—but I just—" He didn't continue. He didn't know what he was trying to say.

Katara still didn't answer. Her shoulders were rigid as a board, fists still clenched.

Zuko took a breath, and before he had time to think about it, the words were tumbling out. "I just couldn't kill her. I thought I'd reasoned everything out, and I knew everyone would be safer if I did it, but—"

His eyes dropped to the ground, already knowing how flimsy this was likely to sound. "I just," he mumbled, "I realized I think she wanted me to kill her, all along. She just wanted me to hate her so much—or maybe, fearher so much—that I would do it. And from there, just keep doing the same thing to anyone who stood in my way. Knowing that was her plan from the start—I didn't want to let myself fall into her trap. Not again."

He couldn't look Katara in the eye, so instead he stared at the corrugated metal of the warehouse wall. He noticed corrosion had begun on the edges of several panels, a few with jagged black holes like leopard-caribou spots. The place had been poorly cared for.

Katara turned her head just enough to look at him over her shoulder, the anger still evident in the hard line of her mouth. However, after a long moment, she took a deep breath through her nose, and her eyes slid closed.

"Maybe you're right," she admitted quietly. "Maybe if you had killed her, you would have lost sight of the Fire Lord you're trying to be. Maybe, if you had done it, you would have been losing to yourself and to her."

Katara's eyes suddenly opened, and they were flashing like firebrands. "But," she said, voice rising, "that's why you should have let me do it. I understand how you feel, Zuko, I do, but I told you I didn't want her to get away knowing about that technique. Now you've gone and made sure that she does. And all that about starting fires in the Earth Kingdom to start another war—you think she was just bluffing? That she won't go out and do exactly that, or worse? I don't know what to say, Zuko. Your mother, Aang, everyone, now they're all—"

Katara's voice shook and abruptly broke. She couldn't seem to look at him anymore, and she half turned away, gripping the neck of her bending pouch with trembling fingers. She let out an angry, rattling breath.

Zuko's head seemed to bow with the weight of her words. He knew she was right—of course she was. He couldn't entirely predict the ripple effect his decision would carry, but it was very likely to be more far-reaching and devastating than he could imagine.

Letting out a long, shaking breath, at last Zuko forced himself to straighten. Whatever might happen now, he had made the decision—now the least he could do was try to explain it, as fully as he could.

"I know," he said. "I know. Only—it was more than that. There was one other thing."

Zuko again trained his eyes on the rusting metal, where it rose up from the dusty ground. "There's something that Mai told me. She said that I couldn't escape fear—that I had to choose which fears I could live with, and only I could decide. In other words, it was up to me to decide what was right."

He shook his head. "It reminded me of something I'd heard someone else say. I thought it might be Uncle—but it wasn't. It was my father."

Zuko raised his eyes back to meet Katara's. "My father told me, whether I choose to defend the weak or if I leave the weak to be devoured by the strong, as long as I'm Fire Lord, whatever I choose is right. Because I'm the Fire Lord."

A deep sigh escaped him, and he reached up to rub his forearm. "Of course, I knew that was totally wrong. But as I was doing this, I didn't realize until the moment to decide came—it's the same thing. It's not up to me to decide what fear I'd rather live with. There's a right thing to do, and a wrong thing, and to kill Azula that way, in cold blood—it felt completely wrong."

Once again, Zuko couldn't hold her gaze. Instead, his eyes drifted upward, and he saw the high window through which Azula had escaped, the shattered glass forming jagged peaks at the edges. "That's what I thought in the moment. It seemed so clear. But now, looking back..." He let out a short breath, and when he continued, his voice was no more than a rasp. "The truth is, the moment I decided I wasn't going to do it, I wasn't thinking about the cost, or what it might mean for other people. All I felt—was relieved."

Zuko forced himself once again to meet Katara's gaze. Accusation and betrayal still burned in her eyes, but now her eyebrows had come down slightly in a hint of uncertainty.

"It was easier," he said quietly. "Easier not to do it—easier to let her get away, than to let you go through with it. I thought that was because I was doing the right thing, but—now that she's back out there, and she might do everything you just said and worse, I wonder. I wonder if I was really doing the right thing, or if I was choosing her over everyone else, because she's my sister."

Zuko clenched his fist at his side. "All this time, I kept wondering who was right about all this. Was it Mai? Ty Lee? You? But—maybe none of us were right. Maybe, the one I need to listen to most, has really been Azula all along."

Katara's mouth opened—in shock or horror, Zuko wasn't sure which. However, before she could interrupt, he went on.

"Even when you're strong, you're weak," he said quietly. "Azula told me that once. I know Azula and my father used people like pieces in a Pai Sho game, and I don't want to be like that, but—I have armies at my command, my firebending is more powerful than ever. And yet, even with all that, I haven't made my nation safe. How will I ever be able to call myself a better Fire Lord than my father if I don't stop my people from getting hurt? If I'm too weak to do what needs to be done?"

All was still for a moment, silent. Katara was staring back at him, but as he watched, her expression seemed to shift. The anger, the frustration seemed to fade, and her eyes widened slightly. Then her eyes abruptly broke from his, to stare at the shards of shattered glass below the broken window.

"Even when you're strong, you're weak," she murmured, thoughtful. "I remember. I remember when Azula said that."

Her gaze lingered on the shards a moment longer, before her eyes rose back to meet Zuko's. "It was in the forest. When the spirit—the Mother of Faces—told us she would only grant us one favor. That woman we met in the swamp had been searching for the spirit for all those years in order to save her brother, and we all decided she should be the one to take the favor. Azula didn't like that."

Zuko didn't know what she was driving at, so he didn't reply.

Katara's eyes had drifted away again, to stare at a couple of dingy water barrels sitting against the warehouse wall. But then her eyes shifted. She raised her hands, wordlessly gazing down at her own open palms.

"Strong and weak," she said slowly, almost to herself. "Right...and wrong."

She closed her eyes, and for a long minute, she stood perfectly still. The angry lines of her face smoothed, her shoulders relaxed. Then, without warning, her eyes snapped open, and they were abruptly boring into his again, with every bit as much intensity as before. Only this time, he saw no anger.

"You're not weak, Zuko," she said fiercely. "Whatever else you are, Azula is wrong about that. Even when you're strong, you're weak—that's not it at all. I think it's more like, even when you're strong, you're kind. After everything Azula's done to you, you could hate her now—no one would blame you if you did. But you care about her instead."

She glanced away, back in the direction of the broken glass some ways down the alley. "Ozai, Azula—they think right is whatever they make it, no matter who they have to destroy in the process. But you, Zuko, you decide what's right based on the fact that you care. About us, about the Fire Nation—even Azula." After a moment, she added, voice low, "I can...understand that."

Her hands had unclenched, her shoulders relaxed, and Zuko knew the storm had passed, at least for now. However, as his eyes fell on the fresh burn still on Katara's hand, where his own flames had burned a jagged hole clear through the fingerless glove, he realized he didn't feel any better.

Perhaps Katara noticed the direction of his gaze, because she raised her hand and glanced at the burn. She suddenly grimaced, as though only just remembering the pain.

Zuko stretched out a hand helplessly, not sure what he intended to do. "Katara—" he began, the array of useless apologies already on his tongue. "Here, let me—"

Katara put up her other hand, halting him where he was. Drawing a little water from her bending pouch, Katara placed her good hand on the marred skin, and the water glowed a bright blue in the early morning gloom.

Zuko watched her, seeing the blue light reflected in her eyes.

"To be honest," she murmured as the water did its work. "That moment, when you stopped me and I knew she was beyond me... I was relieved, too."

The blue glow faded, and Katara raised her hand, unblemished and whole once again.

"See?" she said, and for the first time, she smiled. "No harm done."

Returning the water to her flask, Katara sighed and added, "Well, there's no going back and changing it now. If it means anything, we both know that if Aang were here, he'd say you did the right thing."

Zuko paused, and his lips flickered in a reluctant half smile in spite of himself. That, Aang definitely would. Guru goody-goody, that was Aang.

However, after a moment, the smile faded.

Zuko was glad if Katara could forgive him—he was only too familiar with Katara's capacity for grudges. However, it wouldn't change whether he had really made the right, best decision or not. It wouldn't change the suffering the Fire Nation people may now endure—the terror that people like the governor and his son would feel when they found out the people who had threatened them had not been stopped.

Katara turned around, facing the mouth of the alley again. "I guess I better go find the others," she said. "I'll bet the rest of the Kemurikage have taken off, just like Azula, but I can make sure everyone's okay. You stay here, Zuko—better for you not to be seen dressed like that."

Zuko opened his mouth to argue. After dragging them all into this mess, he wanted to make sure they were all safe himself, and even if he was fairly certain Katara was right, the last thing he wanted was to be left sitting here on his hands.

However, before he could put the thought into words, he blinked as two dark figures suddenly hurtled past just outside the alley. The wind from their passage ruffled his hair.

"Was that—" Zuko began, startled.

"I'll go find out," Katara answered, but before she could take two steps in that direction, one of the dark figures reappeared in the alley mouth. Though the morning light cast her features in shadow, Zuko would have recognized her anywhere.

"Mai," he said, relieved. "You're all right."

Ty Lee appeared at Mai's shoulder a moment later.

"The Kemurikage all got away," Mai reported. "When the sun started to rise, they took off. We decided to try catching up to you in case you needed the help, and Suki pointed us in this direction. She's back at the mansion, trying to get things cleared up with the governor."

Mai's eyes shifted, and she peered around cautiously. "Azula...?" she began.

"Got away, too," Katara replied. "This town might be small, but it's a maze. And it might be just as well—she was as tough as we remembered, and without the full moon to give my bending the advantage..." She trailed off.

Mai stared back at Zuko for a second. Then her eyes shifted back to Katara, slightly narrowed.

"Well," Mai said at last. "I guess we'll have to try again next time. Did you pick up any clues where she might be headed next?"

"Nothing concrete," Katara answered. She hesitated, glancing back at Zuko.

Zuko met Mai's gaze. He noticed an angry burn on her cheek, just below her left eye, and his eyes dropped—and he realized that neither Azula, nor Katara, was the most terrifying person he would face today.

Bits and pieces of what Mai had said back on the ship flitted through his mind—her and Ty Lee being Azula's weapons, how he shouldn't let himself get caught up on abstract ideas of right and wrong, how he might end up regretting letting someone die because of his failure to act. When it came down to it, he had failed Mai more than anyone. Failed to live up to her expectations of him as the Fire Lord, failed to finally free her and everyone else from the threat that now once again lurked in the shadows.

"I..." he began. He didn't know how to explain to her what he had done. What he had decided—especially when he still wasn't sure if it was right.

The silence lengthened. It was finally Katara who broke it.

"Zuko?" she said, voice oddly gentle. "What do you want to do now?"

Zuko glanced at her, then at Mai, whose eyes were still slightly narrowed in that suspicious way.

Zuko turned his back on them. He felt something rising in his throat, and he blinked rapidly. "I—don't know," he said at last, voice low and thick.

He swallowed, then forced himself to continue, "I—couldn't do it." He stared hard at the cracked and barren ground at his feet. "I don't think I'll ever be able to do it, or let someone else do it—probably not until she does something so terrible that there's no other choice. And maybe not even then."

Zuko's hands clenched into fists at his side. "So," he said at last in a hoarse whisper, "I guess there's not much point going after her again. Not without a new plan and getting more help first."

The alleyway was quiet for a long minute, then two. The air seemed to grow heavy, until Zuko could barely breathe.

At last, Mai said tonelessly, "We're just giving up then?"

Zuko slowly turned back to face them, though he kept his eyes fixed on the broken glass on the ground. "I'm sorry," he rasped.

Ty Lee seemed a bit out of her element in the face of such a depressing atmosphere, but she finally found her voice. "Um, don't be sorry, Zuko. I think you did the right thing."

"I think you did what you thought was the right thing," Katara added, modifying the sentiment a little. "And maybe it was. Nobody can ask for more than that."

Zuko finally forced his gaze to meet Mai's. Her eyes stared steadily back into his, her impassive features inscrutable.

At last, she turned her back on him. "It's your decision," she said without emotion. "I don't have the power to fight the Fire Lord's will."

Zuko didn't know what to say. He opened his mouth, but an odd panic seemed to be crawling up his throat and down into his chest, and no words came out.

Ty Lee and Katara both seemed to sense that this was a conversation they didn't want to be a part of.

"Um," Katara said, backing up awkwardly. "I think I'll just go on to the mansion and meet up with Suki. She could probably use the support."

Ty Lee was fidgeting nervously. "Oh yeah, I'll come with you. I bet the governor's son could, like, use some cheering up."

Mai remained rooted where she was, unmoving as a stone pillar as Katara and Ty Lee backed away, then vanished around the corner, back out into the town.

"Mai," Zuko whispered, head bowed in shame, unable to bring himself to look at her rigid back. "I don't know what to say. I dragged you all here and put you all in danger—and for nothing."

Mai didn't reply.

Zuko gripped his hands tightly together. "Katara tried to complete the mission, but I stopped her. I couldn't let her do it." He didn't know why he was confessing this—maybe because Mai was still silent as the grave, and he wanted her to say something, anything. Even if she was shouting at him, at least it would be something. The threat of Katara's inevitable explosion frightened him far less than the threat of Mai's unbroken silence.

But still, Mai said nothing, and she didn't turn.

Zuko swallowed, then pressed on, "I thought I was doing the right thing, but—now I'm not so sure. I'm not like my father or Azula, I can't just tell myself that whatever I do is right just because I'm the Fire Lord. I have to think, I have to try to figure it out. But—is the fact I at least try to figure out right from wrongan excuse I can use whenever I fail to do what I need to do to protect my people?"

Zuko let his hands fall once again to his sides. His head bowed forward, his shoulders slumped. Katara had called him strong for his kindness, his caring. And maybe there was some truth in that. But he could only imagine how weak he must look in Mai's eyes—too weak to do the hard thing to protect the Fire Nation, and the world.

He had said everything he could bring himself to say, and he fell silent. The chilly air felt dead and stifling here between the old, derelict warehouses, and Zuko stared down at the barren ground again, where dust and bits of trash and debris had collected against the warehouse foundation.

A short breath, almost like a sigh, interrupted the quiet, and Zuko automatically glanced up. He blinked, startled to find that Mai had, at last, turned her head back to look at him. The morning light was beginning to creep over the buildings now, casting Mai's features in even deeper shadow, and for a moment her expression was impossible to make out.

"I think I always knew it would turn out like this," Mai murmured, almost to herself. "I just hoped for something different."

Zuko didn't reply. He couldn't.

Mai at last turned more fully to face him, and as his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he had to blink twice—because he was sure he must be seeing her expression wrong.

Her face hadn't changed, not really, but there was something else there—a softening in her eyes, the corners of her mouth not quite so tense.

"Ty Lee..." Mai began, oddly hesitant. "She told me about something you said—something she heard from Suki."

Uncertain, Zuko didn't move, only waiting for her to continue.

"She told me that, when Tom-Tom was taken, you were worried about him. Not just about his safety, but about his state of mind. If, after going through something like that, he would ever be as happy as he had been again."

Zuko recovered himself a little as the memory came back to him. Though the horror in the capital was now long over, and the children all safe and back with their families, he would never forget that feeling—the anxiety, the helplessness.

Though Mai's expression had lost the stoney quality, and her voice was slightly more gentle, the words felt like a condemnation. Azula had been behind that horror, too, and now it may very well happen again to someone else. Or something worse.

"That's it," Mai murmured. "That's what you've been trying to do. You wanted to stop something from happening to us or anyone in the Fire Nation—but more than that, you wanted to save the people from the fear."

Zuko blinked, startled. His eyes met hers, and this time, he didn't look away.

"People hate fear," Mai continued. "They're afraid of it. It can turn you into a coward, or make you do things you hate. Even when the world is at peace, it's hard to be completely happy when you know it might all fall apart in an instant."

Zuko stared back at her. There was no anger or hostility in her voice, yet he wasn't sure where this was all leading.

Mai turned her head, so she was gazing at the tarnished wall of the alley. "I'm not like Ty Lee," she said after a minute. "I don't believe killing someone like Azula would be wrong. I don't see how protecting yourself from guilt is somehow more brave and selfless than doing what you have to do to give the world some peace of mind."

Zuko didn't answer. His eyes once again dropped from hers, to stare at the ground.

Memories drifted through his thoughts, like wisps of smoke on a breeze—his mother's white face in the darkness as she said faintly, "They took her, didn't they?" Ty Lee, whispering as they emerged from a dank prison cell of the fear that had never really left her. Mai, a spasm of horror flitting across her normally impassive features as Suki spoke of the one Kemurikage that wielded lightning—knowing what it meant and who it had to be.

Mai was right. He had wanted to protect everyone from what Azula might do, but perhaps just as much, he had wanted to save them from the fear. Azula's greatest weapon.

"Of course," Mai continued, and though her tone was still the same dull monotone as ever, a hint of something else crept in—something almost like warmth. "If you want to save people from fear—maybe the world doesn't need another terrifying, ruthless Fire Lord."

Zuko glanced up again, startled. Mai had half turned away from him, but she was looking back at him over her shoulder. A hint of a smile had touched the corner of her lips, so faint he wasn't sure if he was imagining it.

"Unlike Azula," she said, "no matter how hard you try, Zuko—I guess you're just not that scary."

Zuko stared back at her a long minute. The sun had fully breached the horizon now, and a pale orange light was spreading quickly over the purple sky. And, strangely, he felt a hint of a smile of his own spread across his mouth.

"I really didn't fall into Azula's trap," Zuko said, marveling. He had known this before, but now the sentiment felt less hollow, less like simply noble talk for the sake of noble talk.

"Trap?"

Zuko hesitated, realizing he had never actually told Mai what Azula's new plans were.

Before Zuko could think of how to explain, or if he even wanted to explain, Mai sighed again, and the brief, almost-smile was gone. She was back to a deadpan. "So," she said. "Are you going to make the speech?"

Zuko blinked, confused. "Speech?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know. A grand speech about how we're not going to kill Azula, that she's your sister and next time we try to stop her we'll do it the right way, and even if we all end up dead, it's better than forgetting who we are—all the usual heroic nonsense the Avatar has gotten you into."

Zuko frowned. "Do you want me to make the speech?"

Mai folded her arms in her sleeves. "I just made it for you. You're welcome."

Zuko nodded. "I think I will get Aang involved next time. And maybe it will feel...more right."

Mai shook her head, turning away. She made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. "Honestly, Zuko. If you start talking about auras and vibes, then..." She muttered something else Zuko didn't quite catch.

Zuko was about to ask her to repeat it, when suddenly a braided head poked back around the corner.

"Hey, Zuko!" Ty Lee called cheerfully, waving. "Katara sent me back. We heard from the governor that your ship's just about come into the port. Did you want to do anything?"

Zuko nodded. "I think I'll try to sneak on if I can. I'll go around the long way, so no one will see me. If you could go tell Katara to meet me there, I think I'll probably need her help."

Ty Lee bobbed her head. "Just leave it to me, Zuko." However, as she started to pull away again, she paused, glancing at Mai.

Ty Lee cupped a hand to her mouth, and added in a stage-whisper, "If Mai's been kind of a grouch lately, don't worry about it. She's just jealous."

Zuko raised an eyebrow, thoroughly bewildered.

"Ugh," Mai muttered, putting her hand to her head as though suddenly fighting a headache, and shooting a nasty look Ty Lee's way. "If this hasn't all been the biggest waste of time—"

And with that, still grumbling to herself, Mai stalked passed Ty Lee, and disappeared around the corner, into the morning light.

Ty Lee lingered another moment, beaming at Zuko. She gave him a jaunty wink, then in a moment was gone, heading off after Mai.

Zuko sighed. He lingered in the still-darkened alleyway a moment longer—the air was always chilly this time of year, particularly at night, but now, even in the shadows, he could feel from the rising sun just a hint of warmth.

He hadn't protected the world from fear of Azula. But though the terror of the loss of the people around him was a fear that would probably never fully leave him, maybe the Fire Nation people could find some sense of security in knowing that, even if there were people like Azula always lurking on the fringes, waiting to strike, they might at last be led by someone who wouldn't do the ruthless thing—someone who tried to stop the spread of fear by simply not being a further source of it.

"Unafraid to go to any lengths, stepping on anyone you have to, with nothing, not one person, you're afraid to lose..."

Perhaps, in the end, it was Azula who feared fear the most. Why she worked so hard to escape it—by not caring about anyone, by avoiding ever listening to the dictations of a conscience. However, in the end, for all Azula's talk of strength and weakness, he doubted his own fears were anything compared to Azula's, as she stood in the palace as the one their father had named as the Fire Lord, surrounded by people she couldn't trust, favored only so long as she never made a mistake. As Mai had said, there was no living without fear—even for Azula.

Zuko directed his gaze past the rugged buildings, the dust lingering in the air as villagers began to awaken, and go about their morning routines. He looked to the east, the sky now turning to a bright gold, the brilliant sun just visible above the forest beyond.

And, in spite of the fears that may be yet to come—he smiled.


...


A/N: And, there it is. Just the epilogue left to go. (Since this is essentially the end, I want to do a bit longer of an author's note than normal, just to explain a little of my thoughts while working through this project.)

So, this wraps itself up possibly about as expected—Zuko doesn't kill Azula.

When I first finished the series, I knew I wanted to write at least one story for it, one that would involve Katara's bloodbending, and also Azula. Because The Southern Raiders is my favorite episode of Avatar, this story emerged as a result. Much later I came to question the premise of whether Zuko, habit of getting himself turned around on questions of right and wrong notwithstanding, would ever get himself thinking along these lines, given where he is in the comics. And also whether Katara, when the moment came, could actually bring herself to go for the kill. However, by that point, I'd already written the story, and so I just focused on making those odd points I didn't think I could really write out as convincing as I could.

On Zuko and Katara's interference with each other toward the end—I expect there will be complaints on this if there haven't been already, mainly because I'm not typically a fan of this type of resolution myself, where the bad guy gets away purely due to some miscommunication or incompetence on the part of the good guys. However, my reasoning in this case was that I thought it was important for Zuko to make a deliberate decision in regards to Azula—not just avoiding killing her himself purely out of a desire to avoid falling into her trap, but actively choosing to save her even though it means her escape. From there, I just rationalize that, even though if Katara and Zuko could have agreed they might have caught Azula right then and gotten her back to the palace, because she is, relatively speaking, back in her right mind again, she would eventually have gotten out, making the end result of Zuko's decision the same anyway.

As for Azula herself—I knew whichever direction I went here, there was likely to be some disappointment. I know when it comes to the comics, many are hoping for a redemption arc, while others love her as the villain and are afraid if she turned toward the good her storyline would just become a clone of Zuko's. (It may not quite be the Zutara-Katang war, but I get a similar vibe.) I have felt both ways at various times, but for now all I really want is to see Azula's story evolve and progress in a complex and interesting way, while keeping her completely in-character, and my hope is to write her in that spirit going forward.

Anyway, on that note, next is the final chapter. As might be obvious from the 'Part 1' in the title, this isn't the end, and I'll talk a bit about the plan for the second part next time.

Thanks so much for reading! (And a big thank you to the reviewer who let me know the mix-up with the opening chapter. If anyone picks out any more glaring problems, don't hesitate to let me know, and I'll do my best to fix them.) If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and hope to see you for the last one!

Posted 10/2/18, A revised version posted 10/30/18