Katara walked the ice-paved streets of the Northern Tribe's city slowly, with Aang at her side. On the surface, little had changed since her last visit. Ice structures that had seemed almost impossible to her when she had first come here, so different from the South Pole with its tents and Sokka's snow forts. Intricately sculpted, they shimmered as they reflected the blue of the cloudless sky, gleaming in the sunlight that held no warmth.

That kind of work was far beyond her ability as a waterbender. To learn the necessary skills would take years of study and practice. In some ways it was still amazing to her that the Northern Tribe could have so many uses for waterbending. They used it to fight, to build, the heal, to fish. A waterbender born here had any number of career options open to them. Unless that bender happened to be a woman, of course.

The restriction on what women could and couldn't do was stupid and offensive, and she was glad she had managed to get Pakku to change his mind, but at the same time she couldn't help wondering what would have happened if she had chosen to study healing as well as fighting.

As they entered the city's main square, a waterbending class was taking place. She slowed to watch. The children were young, no older than eight, and were pouring all of their concentration into basic moves. They streamed the water under the watchful eye of their teacher, a man younger than Pakku, but who looked no less stern. She felt a stab of jealousy as she watched them. Growing up the only waterbender in the South Pole had been difficult. These children were lucky, even if the expressions on their faces showed that they thought otherwise.

"Katara, look!" Aang grabbed her arm with one hand, pointing enthusiastically at the lesson with the other. "One of the students is a girl, they've started letting girls learn to fight."

Katara looked closer at the group of students, and saw that he was right. In a group of boys, one girl, her face screwed up in concentration was streaming the water alongside them. Score one for equality. Even if it was just one student, it was a start. It showed attitudes were beginning to change, and she felt she could take some credit for that.

Of course, every girl that studied fighting techniques instead of healing, or used her bending to build houses or strengthen the city walls meant one less healer. True, some men may take up the job, but while women might happily do men's work, she didn't see men's attitudes changing enough that many of them would be willing to take on a traditionally female role.

"Katara, do you see her? She's really good."

Katara nodded, "Yes." She sighed.

Aang frowned. "I thought you'd be pleased about that."

"I am. I was just thinking."

"What about?" Aang turned back to the lesson.

She bit her bottom lip and hesitated before she replied. "After Yugoda tried to heal Zuko, she told me that if she'd been able to treat him straight away, he might have been okay."

"Oh." Aang shrugged, "Well, it's a shame she wasn't there, but it wouldn't exactly have been possible, so I'm sure Zuko understands."

"No, Aang. I was there. I treated him, and I wasn't good enough. If I'd known what I was doing, if I'd spent more time studying with Yugoda when I was here before, maybe I would have been able to help him. As it is, I treated the wounds on the surface and left the ones underneath, the worse ones, to set so that not even someone like Yugoda could help him. It's all my fault."

Aang looked quickly around the square and found a bench nearby. Like everything else, it was made of sculpted ice. He took her hand and walked toward it. She followed numbly. As they sat down, Aang shook his head. "It's not your fault, Katara. You studied to be a warrior. You can heal too, and that's great, but you can't beat yourself up over not being a master of both skills. Your waterbending has saved all our lives over and over again. And if you hadn't learned to fight, you couldn't have taught me, then what would have happened?"

She listened to what he had to say, staring into the distance with half her attention on him and the other half in the past, watching the Agni Kai in her mind's eye. "I should never have been standing there while they were fighting. Zuko's blind because he saved my life, because I was standing in the wrong place and I didn't have the skills to save him."

"You're not responsible for everyone and everything, Katara." Aang told her, "You can't be, it's too much pressure. Believe me, I know."

"I'm not trying to be responsible for everything, but I am responsible for this." She sighed. "I have to tell him. He's going to hate me."

Aang put an arm around her and she leaned toward him for the comfort of closeness, "He won't hate you," he told her, "you saved his life."

"Only because he put himself in danger saving me."

"Well, I suppose that's one way to look at it, but..."

Katara raised an eyebrow.

"No, no that's not what I mean..." Aang floundered for a moment and raised his palms in a gesture of surrender, "It is one way to look at it, but it's the wrong way. And you still saved his life."

Katara stood up, "I'll see you later, okay? I'm going to go and talk to Yugoda."

She walked away quickly in the direction of the healing huts, and Aang sighed to himself as he watched her go.

The room where he was staying was simple. He didn't mind. A few years ago he might have complained that it was unsuitable accommodation for a Fire Nation prince. Since then, he had mellowed slightly. It was comfortable, and served its purpose fine. He had slept in much worse places than this. Besides, it hardly mattered what anything looked like any more.

The bed had been placed in the center of the room, providing a cushion of air between it and the ice walls. An animal skin over a woven sheet provided enough warmth during the night. The room was decorated, he thought. Things hung on the walls. An exploration with his fingertips had shown them to be some kind of woven wool, but neither that nor his firebending could tell him the design. It didn't matter what they looked like, he couldn't see them, and asking someone would only serve to highlight his inability. Not only to them, but to himself as well.

There was a table next to the bed, on which an oil lamp was placed. Rugs and skins covered most of the floor, presumably serving the same function as the things on the walls, to insulate against the cold.

On the floor in front of him, a plate of food was cooling rapidly. His stomach rumbled in protest as he ignored the tempting smell that drifted upwards. He hated eating in the dark. It was so messy, so undignified. That was why he had taken it in his room, but every attempt to eat ended in failure. The journey north had involved a lot of finger food, but he had to learn to do this now.

He slid his hand across the ground until his fingers touched the chopsticks that he had leaned against the edge of the plate. He picked them up and tried to remember Toph's advice. He slid the ends of them slowly across the plate until he found some food. Having located his target, he attempted to pick it up, but his aim was wrong, and it slid away across the plate. He tried again, and failed again.

He released his frustration as a sigh, but it came out as a growl, and decided to try another tactic. He allowed his free hand to hover palm down above the plate, letting the heat rise to touch his bare skin as he tried to identify the location of the different pieces of food. What they were didn't matter, just where.

The other hand tried to interpret the information and pick up something from the plate. He aimed, and he missed. He tried again, and felt himself make contact with something. He lifted it victoriously to his lips, only to find that it had dropped before it arrived, probably before it had left the plate. He sighed, again, replaced the chopsticks on the side of the plate and waited for the food to cool enough for him to eat with his fingers. Even less dignified, he supposed, but at least he wouldn't starve to death that way.

Behind him, someone knocked once on the door lightly, then pushed it open. His visitor stood quietly for a moment, perhaps observing him, or possibly trying to think of something to say.

The person was short, either a child, a very small man or woman, or someone crouching down on the ground. If it was someone he knew, and he assumed it was, it was probably Aang or Toph. Of the two, Aang was the most likely because Toph had left not long ago, and she was nervous moving around the ice alone and would probably have someone with her.

Zuko was facing away from the door, sitting on one of the rugs on the floor. He waited, tensing just slightly, to be ready to fight if it turned out to be someone unexpected who meant him harm.

"One of the monks at the temple was blind." Aang told him.

Zuko didn't move. He remained perfectly still, eyes closed. He allowed himself a moment of celebration at his correct guess.

"He was called Tashi," Aang continued. "I think he could see for most of his life, because he'd talk about how things looked all the time. He asked us to describe things. Toph doesn't do that, because the words we'd use wouldn't mean anything to her. He knew about colors and things like that, so he must have been able to see once."

Aang took a few steps closer, making no sound as he did, but his body heat moved from the door to part way into the room.

"He was one of the happiest people I ever knew. He found joy in everything. I think he must have been a bit like you and Toph. You know, using bending to see? Maybe he felt the way the air moved around things, because he loved to just sit outside in the wind for hours at a time. Or maybe he just liked the way it felt, I don't know. I never asked him. I did ask him once why he was so happy though. Do you know what he said?"

Zuko shook his head.

"He told me it was because he was alive."

Aang jumped into the air and floated down onto the top of the bed. Zuko heard him land lightly. He concentrated on his body heat and the distance he knew he was from the bed. Working out the direction of something was relatively easy, but calculating exact distances was tricky, it needed work.

"I wanted to ask him how he lost his sight," Aang continued, "but I was a little kid and didn't know if I should, so I didn't. But from what he said then, I guessed something happened and he nearly died. Compared to that, being blind didn't seem so bad."

Zuko turned toward him and raised a hand to his scar. "When my father did this, the wound became infected. I didn't realize at the time how close I came to losing the eye, even losing or damaging both of them if the infection spread. Later, when I learned the truth, I spent many nights contemplating darkness. To lose my sight seemed like the most terrible thing that could happen to me."

Aang sat silently, waiting for him to continue.

"When I dove in front of Azula's lightning bolt, I hoped I could re-direct it back on her, or at least away from Katara and myself, but to be truthful, I didn't think it would work. I expected to die." He allowed his hand to drop back into his lap. His eyes remained closed as he spoke. "I hate not being able to see," he said, his voice contained frustration and anger mixed with sorrow. "I'd do almost anything to get my vision back. But maybe your monk was right. If I'd been given a choice; told that to save Katara's life I would have to lose my own life or my sight, I would have chosen this. As much as I hate it, I would rather this than death.

"Will you promise me something?" Aang asked him.

"Of course."

"Tell Katara that."

Zuko frowned, but nodded once in agreement.

Aang used a gust of air to move himself onto the floor next to Zuko. Zuko calculated his distance again and wished he could check visually to find out whether he was correct.

"I want to go home." Zuko said, "I need to feel warm, to feel the sunlight on my skin even if..." he took a deep breath, "even if I can't see it."

"We're leaving tomorrow. Katara and Sokka have a few things they want to do first. But when you get there, what then?"

It was a question he had given a lot of thought over the past day, and there was only one answer he could give. "My duty."

The trouble was, he hadn't quite worked out what that was. Did he owe it to his country to lead, or to step aside and allow someone else to shoulder the responsibility?

The response seemed to satisfy Aang, who walked out of the room with a spring audible in his step. Zuko concentrated on the room around him. If he was to lead – and if he wasn't, he had no idea what he would do – he needed to master this technique.

The food cooled, forgotten on the ground.

Toph smiled in relief as she stepped onto the grass of the Spirit Oasis and felt the earth beneath her feet. She dropped her shoes onto the ground and pressed her toes into the soil. She could feel the familiar body rhythm of Sokka sitting by the small pond in almost the same place as she had found Zuko the day before.

Something felt off about him, he wasn't his usual irritatingly happy self. "What's up with you?" she asked as she approached him.

Sokka turned toward her. "Hey Toph. Nothing's up. What are you doing here?"

She pointed at the ground beneath her feet, "Earth," she said, "and it's warm here. It is so good to be able to see again."

"Don't say that to Zuko," Sokka warned her.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" She dropped to the ground and placed the palms of both her hands on the soil too.

Sokka shook his head. "A bit tactless sometimes, but I've been accused of that myself a few times."

"What are you doing here? You're not usually the sitting quietly by yourself type."

He sighed and seemed to slump somehow. "I thought the Moon Spirit might be able to heal Zuko like it did for Yue, but the Elders said no. It's too risky because the spirit is still too weak. Yue's energy is all it's got."

Toph nodded. "What about later, when it's recovered a bit?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, I doubt it. Chief Arnook's kind of protective. I get it, I don't want to hurt Yue either, but I figured maybe if I came here I could ask her myself. You know, in case they're wrong and she did feel up to it."

"And?"

"I don't know what I was thinking. That she'd appear and talk to me or something, I suppose. But it's not really her, is it? It's just a fish."

Toph lay down and placed her hands behind her head, putting as much of her body in contact with the ground as she could. She was already trying to stop one person sinking into depression, she didn't think she could handle two. "Maybe if you ask the fish, she'll appear."

"I tried that already. She just keeps swimming around."

"Maybe that's her answer," Toph suggested.

Sokka nodded. "Maybe it is." he said, "But I really wanted to see her."

"You can, she's here. Just not as a human." She paused. "But it's a very pretty fish."

"She was an even prettier girl," Sokka said, then crossed his arms as his brain caught up. "Oh, hilarious. Please tell me you won't encourage Zuko to start doing that too."

Toph's lips twitched into a smile and she closed her eyes and relaxed completely for the first time since she had put on her shoes all those nights ago. "Can't guarantee he won't pick up the habit anyway. You're too easy." She felt Sokka away and face the pond again, his body rhythm felt sad as he watched the fish swim through the water. "Sorry," she said. Not for the joke – well, kind of for the joke. She knew Yue was off limits.

He shrugged. "I guess it is a pretty fish," he told her.