Katara was sitting across from him at the kitchen table, her mouth hanging open, looking completely and utterly shocked. Zuko's palms were sweating, and he wiped them on his pants, eagerly waiting for his wife to say something, anything. Even if she yelled at him, it would be better than her silence. Then he'd have his answer, either way.

"I…I just…"

Zuko watched as she dropped her head into her hands, her face looking drawn and tired. She hadn't known just how deep he'd been in this mess, how much he'd risked and had been willing to risk. He'd confessed everything to her, spurred on by his uncle and Xin Fu. Initially, Zuko was touched that their first reaction to Mai's note had been concern for the stability of his family. Now, Zuko mostly felt like bashing them in the head with blunt objects. Tell Katara, they said. She loves you, they said. She'll understand.

She wasn't understanding.

"How could you have known she would have kept her word?" Katara asked with a shaking voice. "What if, when you went to meet Mai, there were armed men there? How do you know she wouldn't have killed you?"

"Because of Azula—"

"She doesn't care about Azula," Katara said, an almost pitying tone in her voice. "If she cared about Azula, she would be calling her and speaking with her every day. If she cared about Azula, why were you the one she called?"

Zuko sighed, looking out the kitchen window. The sun was already setting, and it would be time to call the children in soon. He just didn't want them to see their mother like this.

"And Aang? I just…"

Katara choked back a sob, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. Zuko had the distinct impression that she was hiding from him, or shielding herself so she wouldn't have to look at him. Zuko knew he'd been doing things that Katara wouldn't like. But to see her reduced to tears because of the lies he'd told and the danger he'd put himself in was indescribable. He hadn't managed to care when Iroh yelled at him because he was so convinced that his actions had brought him to the right conclusion. But Katara hadn't cared about any of that. Even with everything that this ordeal had taught him—about himself, the world he lived in, the useful information for bringing down his enemies—Katara had seen no silver lining. There was no upside to this for her.

"I know Aang, Zuko. I know what he's like, and it terrifies me that you went to his house. That you sat at his table and you had tea with him. What if he had poisoned you?"

"He wouldn't, Katara. It's too risky. Too many people knew where Xin Fu and I were."

Katara shook her head, dismissing his rebuttal. Zuko clamped his mouth shut. Katara had every right to rage at him, but he could feel frustration battling with guilt and pain. For every bonus he presented, Katara had some way to downplay it. There was no way he could have known about the coming mob war if he hadn't met with Mai. There was no way he would have half the information he did if he hadn't put himself in some sort of danger. Every day he put on that badge he was in some sort of danger.

"Katara, please," Zuko said, reaching for her hand. "You have to understand that this isn't exactly a safe job."

"I know that, Zuko. I know your job is to put your life on the line, but there's putting yourself out there for your job, and idiocy."

"Idiocy?" Zuko recoiled, not even waiting for Katara to reach for his hand. "Idiocy?"

"Zuko—"

"So you think what I'm doing is stupid and trivial—"

"I think you want to prove yourself—"

"To whom? Who the hell—"

"I don't know, Zuko," Katara yelled, slamming her hands down on the table. "I don't know what you're proving to whom. I just know that you've been this way for as long as I've known you."

"Then why make a big deal of it now?"

"Because it could get you killed. Because I cannot bury my husband and be expected to keep living as if you never existed."

There was such fire and passion in Katara's voice and eyes that, for a few minutes, Zuko was speechless. He sat, blinking at her, until she began to shake and her face crumpled. She stood to meet him, but her legs gave out under the weight of her fear, and Zuko wrapped strong arms around her waist, even if he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep them both upright for long. Katara was shaking violently with her sobs, clinging to his shirt as if he was already gone. Zuko felt his chest tighten, and he held her all the closer as he realized that all her protests and scolding ended in one thing: his death. She didn't want him to meet with Mai because he could have died. She didn't want him to hunt Aang because he could die.

"Katara, I—"

"Jun told me her worst fear was hearing that Iroh was dead, and I…I just didn't understand," she said through her sobs. "I didn't really understand until The Duke died."

Of course. There was knowing, and then there was knowing. Zuko took a shuddering breath and buried his face in his wife's neck.

.O.

When Zuko walked into the office three days later, he was still feeling limp and drained. His foot had barely crossed the threshold before Iroh and Xin Fu were on him. Sighing heavily, Zuko took off his coat as he walked toward his desk, pointedly ignoring them. They would not be ignored, following him steadily, waiting for acknowledgment.

"What changed?" Xin Fu asked, sitting on the edge of Zuko's desk. "Your fire is gone."

Sighing heavily, Zuko looked up at his colleague. "We're having the same conversation over and over again. It always comes back to me dying."

"We all must die sometime, nephew," Iroh said, placing a hand on Zuko's shoulder.

Zuko looked at his uncle, anger clear on his face.

"I will send Jun to her. Every so often, she gets on me about how reckless I've been. It comes with the territory. The best we can do is work to make this world safer for ourselves and our wives."

"I... You're just blowing off Katara's concerns?" Zuko asked, incredulous. "You?"

"What your uncle is saying," Xin Fu said, redirecting Zuko's attention, "is that Katara has always known that your job is dangerous, and that there is a chance you could die on the job." Xin Fu smoothed his hair back, a faint smile spreading across his face. "My wife and I met while I was in the academy. For the longest, she refused to go out with me because she was afraid she'd get attached and something might happen."

Zuko sighed, deciding to take the bait. "And what happened?"

"Nothing. I've been hurt a few times, never too seriously. But the point is that she will always worry. There are times when it hits her harder than others. She called me the night of Haru's trial, said she'd been listening on the radio. Was practically hysterical, sobbing into the phone and everything."

"Like the tides, this will come and go," Iroh said, nodding toward his office. "You and Katara will be having this conversation again."

Reluctantly, Zuko followed his uncle and partner. That they had been, and still were, in his position did little to soothe the pain in Zuko's chest. They hadn't seen the way Katara looked, the pain in her eyes. They hadn't felt her shake so much that her teeth chattered. They hadn't been there, in that moment, in his kitchen, with his terrified wife. The idea of going through this pain periodically did not feel reassuring to Zuko at all. The idea that he would become accustomed to her tears did not make him feel any better.

Inside Iroh's office, the door closed and the blinds drawn, the police inspector's demeanor changed. He'd gone from the kindly, advice-giving uncle to the battle hardened general, his face stony and unreadable. Iroh motioned Xin Fu and Zuko to the chairs across from his desk, and the two sat. Calmly, Iroh opened a green folder on his desk, flipping through pages of typed documents. When he found the section he wanted, he smoothed down the paper, and cleared his throat.

"What I have in front of me is a sworn deposition from a flight attendant who said she processed Aang's boarding pass when he left the country shortly before the raid."

This caught Zuko's attention, and with a grimace, Zuko realized that he was too invested in this mess to let go of it, even if it was for Katara's sake. Cleaning up the streets was also for Katara's sake. And not just hers; their children, and their neighbors' children, and all future generations would benefit from this act. Zuko supposed he had known what his decision would be, even as his tears mixed with Katara's when he placed his wet cheek next to hers.

"What does it say?" Zuko asked reluctantly.

Iroh smiled knowingly at his nephew. "When I was a young man, married to Lu Ten's mother, I nearly backed out of the force."

Iroh's eyes drooped and his shoulders sagged, and Zuko knew that he was thinking on Lu Ten's death again. Iroh had been proud that his son had followed in his footsteps, that despite his mother's early and untimely passing, Lu Ten came out well and strong. Zuko knew that if he didn't redirect the conversation quickly, his own pain and sadness would come to the surface, and after work, he and Iroh would probably stop by a bar and be ten beers in before they realized they had wives to get home to. Xin Fu didn't know about Lu Ten's death during a mob shakedown, so there was no way he could rescue the conversation. It was all left to Zuko.

"We have a long history with them," Zuko said, fixing his uncle with a firm look. "What did the flight attendant say?"

"She says that Aang boarded a plane for France two days before Haru's trial. And that he wasn't alone."

"Please, no," Xin Fu said, shaking his head.

"Yes." Iroh nodded.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose. "Toph Bei Fong."

"The one and only," Iroh said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes skimming over the document. "The attendant asked, casually, if this trip was for business or pleasure. Toph said she only travelled for pleasure. The attendant hadn't realized at the time just who they were. They had round trip tickets, and according to the dates stamped on those tickets, they should be back in the country four days from now."

Xin Fu cursed under his breath, pushing himself from his chair and pacing the room. He ran his hands roughly over his face before turning to face Iroh and Zuko again.

"We've got to get moving on the Gyatso angle," he said. "We don't have much time."

Zuko closed his eyes and thought about what Katara told him. With Aang gone, much could be accomplished. So long as he was present to stop them, Aang would do everything in his power to keep them from learning his secrets. Those had been Katara's words, and in that moment, she believed he could accomplish anything. When he opened his eyes again, Iroh and Xin Fu were looking at him, their expressions steely.

"We do have a lot to do," Zuko said, standing. "Aang is the one I wanted when this mess started. I never believed that Haru had anything to do with The Duke's death, but everything that's come after has proven that this is about so much more than an eight year old boy."

"Our resources will be stretched," Iroh said, scratching his beard, "but there are still a few favors I can call in."

Zuko nodded. "Good. If we can get a warrant on him, then let's be waiting at the terminal when he steps off that plane. We need to focus our attention on one of them at a time. We can't afford to deal with them all at once."

"Sounds like someone got their second wind," Xin Fu said, smiling.

"More like I remembered there was a goal. I told myself that if I got Smiling Aang, I'd back down for a bit. Take the family on vacation, maybe. Enjoy them."

"That's a good plan."

Xin Fu clapped Zuko on the shoulder and they exited Iroh's office, heading for the Operation Soap Bubbles room.

"You know Toph won't just stand by while we arrest Aang."

"What is she going to do? Attack us?" Zuko asked with no small amount of mirth. "Then we take her, too. This isn't her fight, and we're going to bank on her being smart enough to realize she needs to regroup for another day."

"And when she does regroup?"

Xin Fu and Zuko stopped at the door to the meeting room. There was a twinkle in the older man's eyes that Zuko didn't think he'd seen before. He'd almost swear it was excitement.

"She won't be the only one regrouping," Zuko said.

.O.

The first step was to get back to Aang's house and find out whatever they could about Gyatso's whereabouts. When Zuko and Xin Fu stood in front of the imposing building this time, they didn't feel that old anxiety and hopelessness. They had a plan. Each goal was small and obtainable, and it made them confident.

A flutter of the upstairs curtains reminded them that, while confident, they needed to remain cautious.

"Shall we?" Xin Fu asked, chucking his cigarette away.

With a deep breath, Zuko nodded and rang the buzzer on the gate, and shortly, the same made who'd allowed them entry last time came to greet them. She wasn't so eager about opening the gate this time, wringing her hands nervously and struggling to hold their gazes.

"Miss—"

"I'm sorry, sirs," the young woman said, shaking her head at Xin Fu. "I can't. Mr. Aang, he doesn't like for people to be here when he's not home."

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Xin Fu asked, stepping forward and placing his hand against the metal bars.

"Oma, sir."

"Like that old romance story?" Zuko asked, unable to hold back a smile.

The woman smiled sheepishly and nodded, but still she wasn't relenting. Xin Fu was covering her hand with his, giving her a paternal smile that almost reminded Zuko of the way his own uncle manipulated his emotions. Poor Oma didn't even stand a chance.

"Listen, Oma," Xin Fu began, his brows furrowed with sadness, "your boss has hurt a lot of people. We're only trying to fix some of the things he's broken. We might have a few questions for you."

"It's just…my family, sirs. I can't—"

Xin Fu held up a hand to silence her, and Oma clamped her mouth shut. She took a few steps back from the gate and folded her hands in front of her, suddenly looking very obedient.

"We will ensure your safety. That you're even worried about retribution from Aang says that something's not right. I can't promise you that everything will be perfect, but we'll do our best to make it better than it is."

The terrified girl that they'd seen on their first visit came back when Xin Fu interrupted her, and Zuko could see her resolve breaking. A lot of the promise was left unspoken, but those words hung in the air, palpable and waiting for Oma to grab them: she would be under their protection; there would be no way Aang could hurt her. When Oma looked to Zuko, he nodded in the way he did to his children when he wanted to encourage them. When Oma finally opened the gate, she did so quickly, casting worried looks around, checking to see if anyone was watching.

"If you get questioned," Zuko said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "you can always say we forced you. Or threatened to arrest you."

Oma nodded as she led them into the house, closing the door quietly behind them. She accepted their coats and their hats, hanging them in the hall closet. Still in silence, she led them to a different sitting room, this one smaller and less cluttered with Gyatso's knickknacks.

"Is there anything I can get you?"

"No. Thank you for asking."

The three lapsed into silence again, Xin Fu seeming content to wait for Oma to make the first moves. Zuko understood that it was important for her to feel comfortable talking to them, but he also understood the importance of expediency; Aang wouldn't be gone for long, and there was much ground to cover. He had taken the lead the last time they were in Aang's house, but it was clear that they were following Xin Fu's plan now, and for the respect he had for his partner, Zuko kept his mouth shut and waited. Even if it was killing him.

"Um…Detective, sir…"

"Yes, Oma?" Xin Fu was gentle and encouraging, keeping his posture relaxed.

"His wife is here, sir."

"Might we speak with her?"

Oma nodded and hurried out the room. When they were alone, Xin Fu shot Zuko a smug smile. Waiting was paying off, and a few minutes later, Oma came back with another woman, tall and slim with hair pinned at the nape of her neck. Her white shirt and long navy skirt were starched and pressed. Her brown eyes held nothing but concern, and when Zuko and Xin Fu stood in greeting, she motioned them back to their seats.

"That will be all, Oma," she said in a warm voice that starkly contrasted her stiff appearance.

No one said anything until Oma was gone, and this time, Zuko was content to let Xin Fu lead. He couldn't help a momentary flash of anger at Aang; he had a beautiful wife at home, one with soft, loving eyes, and yet he still found it necessary to carry on with the Bei Fong daughter.

"I'm On Ji," the woman said, her voice soft and tired. She sighed heavily. "I suppose you want to talk about my husband."

There was no need to prep her or ease her into comfort. Through her makeup, Zuko could see the dark circles under her eyes. She smoothed and re-smoothed her skirt, her hands running over the fabric, even as she held eye contact. Her pink lips were turned down at the corner, and it made Zuko think of Katara again, that guilty monster inside of him nipping at the edges of his heart and hearing his uncle's words again. Tears were part of his life, now. She would always cry, and she would always worry. Sometimes, it would hit her harder than others, and the emotion would spill forth. But Jun managed to deal. Xin Fu's wife managed to deal. On Ji managed to deal.

"I suppose it was only a matter of time," she said, finally breaking eye contact and turning to look out the window. "He's not a bad person—"

"He just does bad things?" Zuko finished with a smile.

On Ji turned to face him, narrowing her eyes. Zuko wasn't about to back down, though. Cliches wouldn't change things. There were times when good people did bad things, but this was a different case. Aang was not a generally good person who picked up a piece of candy and forgot to pay it. He was not a hard worker who ground chalk in the office jerk's coffee.

"I see your point," On Ji said grudgingly. "He's mostly fair to me, and I suppose I can't complain, though." She gestured to the room around them. "He takes care of me. Even if it's bought with illegal money."

"Then you know about his side business?" Xin Fu asked, reaching in his coat pocket for his notebook. "He never hid it from you?"

"Oh, he hid it, alright. He's always wanted to take care of me and protect me. He thought keeping me ignorant of everything he did would help. But it's hard not to know. He has an office, but he prefers to do most of his business here. I serve them tea, and he expects me to close my ears to any conversation. But I get curious."

Zuko looked at his partner and saw the barely concealed excitement. Aang's own wife was talking to them. His wife was willing to speak to the police. They couldn't have asked for an easier break. That, of course, made Zuko nervous. They didn't know this On Ji, who she was, who her family was; for all they knew, she could be carrying out Aang's work.

"I…I used to talk to Gyatso, too. While Aang was busy, I spent nights with his father, and he was such a sweet old man. But he…he never hid the truth from me. He said I could do more harm to this family if I was kept ignorant, and he pushed Aang to tell me things, and it was clear Aang didn't want to. They argued…"

"You were close with Gyatso?" Zuko pressed.

On Ji nodded. "This…thing…to him, was a business. When he came home, all of that madness, that stayed at his office. Aang and I have children, Detective, and I have to hide them from the people that come through this house. I do not want those…villains…around my children."

It was like Zuko was five years old again, watching a man with a mangled face and a patch over his eye staring down his mother. That man had been like a mountain to him, massive and bulky, a knife hanging from his belt. There was a hideous scar across the man's neck, the flesh raised and roughly sewn back together. He remembered his mother's stern face, her voice unwavering as she said that Ozai wasn't home, that he wouldn't be home for hours. Zuko remembered the way that man looked at his mother, the way he said that he would wait. The way he stepped forward, and Ursa faltered, stepping back. He remembered the way the blade of the knife caught the sun and it shone, momentarily blinding a five year old, terrified Zuko.

Xin Fu's hand on his shoulder brought Zuko back to the present, and he knew with deadly certainty that this needed to end, and soon. He was much too involved in this case, too much was personally at stake. Old ghosts did not need to be exhumed.

"You're speaking about Gyatso in the past tense, ma'am," Xin Fu said.

On Ji opened her mouth, but then quickly clamped it shut. Panic flitted across her face; this was clearly something she wasn't supposed to spill, and backtracking at this point would be the same as confirmation. She blinked rapidly a few times, then stood, walking to the window, her back to them. Her heels clicked on the wooden floor, the sound echoing hollowly through the room, bouncing off the walls and returning to them. Reminding them of such close quarters.

"Ma'am, is there something we need to know about Gyatso?"

"I'm scared," she whispered. "When I married Aang, I didn't know. But now? I'm afraid. I know what happens and I'm afraid."

"You don't have to be afraid anymore," Zuko said, fighting the urge to rise and comfort her. "You don't have to be his prisoner anymore."

"Who said I was a prisoner?" On Ji shot back, though it lacked much emotion. "I can leave whenever I want."

"Can you? You walk out that door, knowing everything you know, and you think he'll let you live?"

"Zuko—"

"Take your children and leave," Zuko pressed. "If you're so convinced that you're not a prisoner, then leave and never come back. Wash your hands of this."

On Ji slumped forward, her forehead pressed against the glass panes of the window, her hands fisted on the sill. She was taking deep breaths, her shoulders rising and falling, before they shook with laughter. When she turned to them, there was no evidence of the turmoil on her face; to an outsider, she would look like an untroubled woman entertaining her husband's guests until he returned.

"You speak as if you know the truth, Detective."

Zuko gave her a dark, mirthless smirk. "It was my truth, and only one thing freed my mother."

On Ji nodded slowly. "One day, Aang and Gyatso left together. Only Aang returned that evening."

"How long ago was that?" Xin Fu asked, furiously jotting notes.

"When he came home, he was rougher with me than usual. Demanding rather than asking. I noticed a single drop of blood on the cuff of his shirt, and I asked if he'd hurt himself." On Ji paused, sitting down on the sill, crossing her legs at the ankle, staring at her hands, folded in her lap. "That was the first time I was ever scared of him. I asked if he cut himself, and he pinned me against the wall. I was shaking, asking him to stop. At first, I thought he might have been drunk, but he wasn't. He was sober and his eyes were clear."

On Ji was quiet, and neither Zuko nor Xin Fu dared to interrupt her. It wasn't until his mind registered the pain of his fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands that Zuko realized he was balling his fists again. He tried to take many calming breaths, knowing he was losing that impartiality that was supposed to be part of his job, but he'd seen this very scene played out before him too many times. Only Ozai had been more physical than On Ji was describing Aang. And, of course, Ozai had been drunk.

"He put his hands around my neck," On Ji said. "He told me that this is his family, and things will be done his way. He said he would not tolerate insubordination from anyone. He…" On Ji cut herself off, her eyes flicking up to them nervously.

"It's ok," Xin Fu said, no longer writing in his notebook. "You already know we're here to help."

On Ji tried again. "He…" She closed her eyes and swallowed. "He had a knife. He said all life is sacred, but that the winds demanded a sacrifice. It was some…twisted form of the things Gyatso learned when he went to China. And he smiled. He declared himself the Northern wind—the wind of change—and said things would be different from now on. He…had a knife, and I…"

When she looked away, swallowing thickly, Zuko stood and went to her, unable to hear any more, knowing the anger was boiling inside him. He placed his hand on his shoulder, gently, and she jumped, looking up to him with wide eyes. The fear was evident in them, and Zuko felt the anger twist his stomach again.

"I don't know where he put the body," she said. "But I know there is one."

Soooo, the beginning, I feel, is a little rough. It gets better, and by the end, I feel I really hit a stride. If I'd composed this story differently I would have dropped more visceral hints about Zuko's life with Ozai. But yes, Aang is married, and it's not to Toph :D I always imagined that, for this story, he'd be married to On Ji. That finaly scene is actually my favorite. I like doing the mob scenes the best. Sadly, I'm thinking there's only one more chapter left. Two at the most. There's a distinct goal in mind, and that's where we're headed.