He was back. There were the fields of grass. Yonder lay the mountains. His enemy surrounded him. Tanks and men, men and tanks. He was sitting in the hatch of his vehicle, the familiar weight of his binoculars resting against his sternum. This was a memory, and he already knew how it would end. It would end with fire and rock and blood and death. But he had no choice. He had to do it.

The tank lurched forward, it's tracks clanking and clattering, the rich smell of diesel filling his nose.

"Iroh."

He checked his radio. Nothing. Who would be trying to contact him now, when they were heading into the teeth of the assualt?

"Iroh."

He looked back at the village, down at the ground. Nobody but his tanks. No one but his soldiers. Who was calling him?

"Iroh!"

He felt a harsh slap on his cheek, and woke with a start.

The clatter was real, and so were the tanks, but he was not riding in one. They filed into the courtyard surrounding the palace, their turrets swiveling. Some of them pulled carts full of men and supplies. Other dismounted troops rushed through, their uniforms still clean and unsullied by battle. Yang was crouched at his side where he lay.

"Wake up buddy. We need you. The reinforcements are here."

Iroh cradled his head, which felt like a bell that had just been rung by a sledgehammer. His fingers felt the crackle of dried blood as the strands of hair seperated.

"Spirits... augh... did you have to slap me?"

"Sorry sir, I couldn't wait around for you to finish your nap. You're the highest ranking officer around here."

Iroh was taken aback.

"What? What about my mother? What about General Yan?"

"Both hiding underground, along with the rest of the general staff. They've transfered authority to you. Damn cowards. No offence to your mother, of course..."

"Don't worry, I'm not about to mention it." Iroh said, standing up and taking in the full scene.

The gardens were a mess. His grandfather Zuko had planted them, shunning the dark volcanic ash of his father's courtyard for a wide green pasture dotted with flower beds. Most of them had been crushed. There were burn marks in the grass where particularly hot fireballs had fallen to earth. Even some of the rocks looked like they had been heated before being launched. The noise was still deafening, although the tempo had slackened somewhat. Hundreds of firebenders were still at the walls pelting anyone who came too close. He was relieved to see that some of them wore the uniform of the palace guard. At least some of his unit had survived, although doubtless many were now dead and wounded. He put that thought out of his mind. There would be plenty of time to agonize over what he could have done differently later, he knew that.

To his right lay the low hill and the monument. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Akuzi and the Zhao family praying fervently. When he looked towards the vast steps leading up to the palace doors he saw clusters of noblemen and women huddled around their families.

"Why are they still outside?" Iroh asked, pointing.

"Nowhere else to go." Yang replied. "The palace is all locked up, as per standard procedure. The rebels pretty much own the second ring except for the north gate, and everything outside that... I just don't know. All the communication lines have been cut."

"Fancy that. North gate, huh? Is that where all these guys are coming from?" Iroh said, gesturing to the tanks and men pouring in.

"Yep. Just before the lines went down the call went out to any and all units. We're only going to get stronger from here."

"Then I have orders, if you're ready to relay them."

Yang stood up, tying off a bandage on his arm and retrieving his katana from the ground.

"I'm ready."

"Tell them to form up in two groups and sweep the outer ring clean. Once that's done do the same thing for the outside. Tanks first, infantry following. Set up a perimeter. As you get more reinforcements, start breaking off groups and sending them into the city."

"What about rules of engagement?"

Iroh gave him a look that he hoped conveyed his attitude.

"Okay, I get it, weapons free."

The lieutenant rushed off to spread the word, and Iroh looked back towards the shrine just in time to see something happen that would change him forever. At the base of the wall to his right another hole was opening up. This one was larger and faster than anything he had yet seen. Before the men atop the palisades even had time to cry out in alarm, the wall crumbled and buried them under it's own weight. All the soldiers near to the breakthrough concentrated their fire on it. Through the cloud of smoke and flames another mob came charging through. They held flat slabs of earth ahead of them like shields, deflecting the fury of the defenders. He watched, almost in slow motion, as the very earth reached up to entrap Akuzi and her family. They flailed uselessly against their restraints. Obviously they were wanted alive as bargaining chips, but Iroh didn't have time to register this on a concious level. The Dai Li agents pounded up the hill towards them. Iroh was running the same direction as fast as his feet would carry him. He didn't remember begining to move, nor did he remember drawing his katana.

At the moment he reached the base of the hill, there was only one earthbender between him and the Zhao family. The burly man turned to face him, stomped the ground, and kicked the resulting clods of earth at him with an impressive force. He was far too slow, though. Iroh's head ducked underneath one and clove the other clean in two with his sword. The blade kept going, slicing the man from shoulder to armpit. As he fell, Akuzi came into view again. She had managed to pull one hand free when a rock whistled out of nowhere and smacked her square in the temple.

There was no blood, but Iroh could see the life leave her eyes almost immediately. He had seen that blank stare too many times to mistake it for unconciousness.

The sword fell from his hands. He drew even with the shrine. Her limp body was at his feet.

A fury unlike anything he had ever felt in his life coiled up his spinal column like a red mist. Without bidding it, the fire came. He poured into it every emotion he felt, every ounce of frustration, loss and hatred. It boiled around him like a typhoon, scorching and burning and killing. Dai Li agents withered under the unexpected storm of heat, the enemy soldiers and their abettors turned to carbon in an instant. Inside the eye of it, Iroh was screaming, but nobody could hear him. It only stopped when he had no more energy to sustain it.

There were no survivors to flee back through the gap.

Where men once stood, only blackened, twisted shadows remained, but he had no eyes for them. He had eyes only for Akuzi. Her dress lay around her like a crumpled flower as he fell to his knees on the single, circular patch of grass left unscatched. Not even her own family would approach as Iroh craddled her in his arms.

The tears came like a rain that had been held back by the clouds far too long.