Notes: For once I can't really think of anything to say, except to thanks as always for my lovely and fab beta DustyJack. Thanks!

OoOoOoO

"I was never angry with you. I was sad, because I was afraid you lost your way."

~ Iroh, The Old Masters

OoOoOoO

Prince Iroh was pulled from sleep by a particular sensation – cold drips of water were splashing over his face. He winced and opened his eyes to see the figure of a long-eared creature sitting on his chest. The lemur was soaked to the skin, but gave a purr upon his wakening, licking rain droplets off of one paw.

"Ah," said Iroh, reaching up a drowsy hand to pet heavily between Momo's ears. "You have returned to me at last, my friend. What have you found?"

He did not truly expect an answer, although he got one. Momo gave a smug chirp and alighted to the flap of Iroh's short tent. Then he looked back over his shoulder and chirped again.

Iroh pushed back his blankets and rose to follow, still in long dressing gown and night-hat. Without any hesitation at all, Momo flew once more into the driving night rain. Iroh quickened his pace, stopping only when it became certain that the lemur was indeed leading him to a particular direction.

He held up his arm and Momo landed upon it, receiving a dried sugar-plum for his efforts.

Iroh backtracked to the camp and strode to one of the officer's tents. "Lieutenant Izhar!"

"…Sir?" Iroh's first Lieutenant peeked his head out of his tent – a much smaller one by comparison than the prince's -- and gaped stupidly at his commanding officer's state of dress.

"Tell the men to break camp. We have our course for the Avatar. South-southwest."

"Sir? I mean, uh, yes sir. Right away, sir."

But Iroh had already returned to his tent.

He emerged some minutes later just as the call was going up among the crew to rise for the early day. He was dressed informally now, in a traveling cloak dyed Earth Kingdom green and pants of nondescript brown.

"I will go on ahead," Iroh told his officers, once they assembled. "And will leave markings behind to follow."

And before any of his astonished men could reply, he flipped something up in the air that looked like a lotus tile, caught it, and disappeared into the forest with the lemur on his shoulder.

The Dragon of the West was on the hunt.

OoOoOoO

The worst of the storm rolled through during the night, and by the time morning broke everything was pleasantly dripping wet and grey with tendrils of mist floating up from the ground between Song's barn and the hospital.

Aang and Zuko spent the rest of the night hunkered out of the rain in the barn -- Appa's great bulk generated enough heat to keep warm, and his wide tail made for a comfy mattress. Talking things out seemed to lighten Aang's mood. By the time the cat-birds started singing in the rain-soaked, dripping trees outside, the little monk had made friends with the lone ostrich-horse in the stable.

Zuko stayed well away from the thing, preferring to catch an early morning nap on Appa's tail. He didn't like hostile looks the ostrich-horse gave him, or the way it bent its head to sharpen its beak against the top of the low wooden stall whenever he approached. Aang, predictably, just giggled and hunted around the barn until he found a sack of millet-seed. Soon the ostrich-horse was pecking gently out of the flat of Aang's hand. The Avatar had made another new friend.

The open doorway darkened as someone stepped in it, momentarily blocking the sunlight. Song stood there, hands on her hips. "Oh, there you are! I see you met Ushi." Her mouth curved in a wane smile as she watched Aang. "You should really watch your fingers. She's been known to give a nip or two."

"Noo, she's a great old bird, aren't you Ushi?" Aang reached up to give a good scratch to the feathers behind the ostrich-horse's ears. Ushi closed her eyes and leaned into the touch.

Zuko made a groggy noise of his own. He had only been able to lightly doze as the sun was rising. Hearing the healer, he staggered to his feet. "How are they?"

Now Song smiled – a true smile that seemed to light up her face and wash away puffy morning fatigue. "The medicine is helping a great deal. Your sister should be out of bed in a few days. And Sokka," Song paused, although she was too polite to roll her eyes. "Well, he's on the mend."

"He's still talking to people who aren't there?" Aang guessed, with a grin.

"He kept me up half the night…but delirium is common with fire favor," she added, seeing Zuko's concerned look. "At least he's interesting. He kept calling me someone named Lu Ten."

"Who?" Zuko asked.

The healer shrugged. "His temperature is down, although the fever hasn't broken. You can ask him if you like, but don't expect a straight answer."

OoOoOoO


As it turned out, Sokka was fast asleep again; dead to the world thanks to medicine and snoring wide mouthed thanks to his stuffy nose.

Katara was awake and sat up in bed at the boy's approach. Her cheeks were still darkened with fever blush, but her coughing wasn't so painful anymore.

"I hate this," she murmured lowly to Zuko, after Aang had turned aside to ask more questions to Song about Ushi and riding ostrich-horses in general. Katara's fingers twitched on top of her blankets as if nervous for something to do. "I feel so useless laying here all day like this."

Zuko nodded. "I know. I felt the same way every winter solstice." When he became a burden to his tribe instead of a provider. He reached out, grabbing her tanned hand to still her fingers. "And you're right. You're no good to anyone like this." Which wasn't necessarily how he wanted to say that at all. Katara shot him a look, her blue eyes narrowed dangerously, and he quickly amended, "So your job now is to rest and get yourself better."

"Hrumph."

"Well…" He paused, looking to the ceiling in thought. "I do have a pair of pants that need mending. And I don't think Sokka has washed his socks in a week."

Katara hit him with her pillow – she was too weak to strike him hard, and her giggles brought on another coughing fit. She sobered by the time she caught her breath, eyes traveling to Aang who was – by the looks of his exaggerated hand gestures – telling Song of his encounter with the Unagi. "Hey, is Aang… okay? He seems a little down."

Zuko glanced over, wondering how she could tell. The little monk was smiling brightly, chattering happily. But that didn't mean he had forgotten the terrible expression on his friend's face just last night. "I ran away…" He didn't know how Katara knew. No doubt Sokka would attribute it to some freaky woman thing. Zuko saw it as a Katara thing.

"He's been thinking a lot about his people," he hedged, unwilling to spill all of Aang's secrets. If he wanted Katara to know, he would tell her himself. "We talked about it, last night."

"You talked?"

Katara's voice was incredulous and Zuko cringed a little, remembering Aang's glowing eyes – his moment of lost control. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"No offense, Zuko, but you're not exactly the 'Let's drink snow-rose tea and have a chat' kind of guy."

"We talked," he repeated, glancing away. Well there had been some yelling.

But Katara smiled. "I think it's kind of sweet." And he couldn't quite tell if she was teasing or being serious.

Before he could comment, she was taken again by another round of coughing so fierce and lasting so long she was nearly clawing for air by the end of it. Alerted by the noise, Song turned away from Aang, a steaming mug of medicine appearing in her hand a few moments later as if by magic. "Drink this," she said, coming by Katara's side. "And I want you to lie back down. You two can visit more later on if you like."

"We can't stay?" Aang asked.

Song turned and gave him a reassuring smile. "She's still recovering, and resting up is really the best medicine."

Behind her, Katara made a face over her mug.

The healer girl took a few minutes to make sure her latest dose of medicine had its desired effect. The same elixir that soothed the coughing caused drowsiness and soon Katara and Sokka were sleeping again, their faces relaxed as if the sickness had retreated all together.

Song soon ushered them out and slid the paper door shut behind them. "I'll tell you what," she said, looking at Zuko and Aang. "It's been raining so much the last few weeks, Ushi hasn't gotten any exercise at all. Could you two give me a hand with her?"

"Oh, uh…" Zuko was certain he didn't want to be within pecking distance of the bird, but Aang was already nodding enthusiastically.

"Sure! What do you need?"

Song pretended to consider this for a moment, playing the young boy along. "Well, she really seemed to like you, Aang. Maybe she'd let you ride her."

"Yeah, I bet she would. I like her too!"

And seeing the other boy's face light up in excitement, Zuko didn't have the heart to say no -- especially when Song looked at him casually, just out of the corner of his eye, a slight brush reddening at her cheeks.

Song paused briefly to let another healer know where she was going before leading Zuko and Aang back to the stable – Aang bouncing at her side and chattering stories of all his animal experiences, especially those he'd ridden.

"You have to be really quick to catch a ferret-hound," he said, with authority. "That's the hard part, but after you're on them, they'll let you ride them. Well – not the female ferret-hounds, because of the spines. Katara took me penguin sledding once. You've been penguin sledding, right Zuko?"

Zuko blinked. It took him a second to realize that he had been pulled into the conversation. "Uh right," he said. "Lots of times."

Song giggled, although he was mostly sure he hadn't said anything funny. "It sounds like you two are real world-travelers."

Aang nodded. "I traveled all the time with my guardian. We've been everywhere—".

"Well, uh, not everywhere everywhere." Zuko interrupted, quickly. No one had mentioned to the healer yet that Aang was the Avatar. It wasn't that he liked the lie, but Zuko hadn't wanted to leave any sort of trail for Iroh to follow. "Like, uh… well, we haven't been to the Fire Nation or anything like that."

"Ohhh, right." Aang grinned up at Song who by now was looking a little puzzled. "I meant the other parts of the world. The ones that aren't Fire Nation."

Zuko barely resisted the urge to smack his palm against his forehead.

But if Song noticed their odd behavior, she didn't comment on it. "I was a baby when my parents settled into his valley." She cast a longing glance to the distant mountains – slightly smoky in the hazy after-storm morning. "It's all I've ever known." They were coming to the stables now and Song reached out a long fingered hand to brush across the tops of the thick wooden railings as she passed. "My mother started the hospital, back when this village was small. I learned everything from her."

"What about your father?" Zuko asked.

"He was taken away by the Fire Nation," she said, softly. "A long time ago."

"Oh." he said, lamely, sort of wishing he could just beat his head against the nearest wall. He never knew what to say to people. "I'm sorry."

She only shook her head, waving away his apology, and Zuko couldn't help but notice how the high sunlight seemed to gleam in her dark hair. He was staring, and realizing this, he quickly looked away.

Appa let out a low moaning bellow upon scenting them and Aang quickly rushed forward to greet his big furry buddy, giving him a good rub around his horns even though they had been separated for a whole hour. Zuko was left to help Song lead Ushi out of her own stall – he was right, the ostrich-horse still inexplicably hated him, pawing long ruts into the earth with her taloned feet at his approach, and he had to duck fast to avoid a vicious snap from her sharp beak.

"Ushi, behave!" Song chided and then led the foul tempered beast outside to saddle. Zuko could feel its beady gaze on him until it turned out of sight.

But as much as the ostrich-horse resented the sight of Zuko, she seemed to have an equal love for the young monk. She sat calmly while Aang helped Song saddle her, bending down to snuff at his bald head. Zuko swore he saw Aang slip her another treat of millet-seed, but he stood far away just on the outside of the wooden arena so it was hard to tell.

Soon it was obvious that Aang hadn't been exaggerating – he was a natural with animals and with riding them in particular. Song had to cinch up the stirrups twice to accommodate his shorter legs, but soon he was off, cantering the ostrich-horse round and round the small sectioned off arena – Ushi snorting and tossing her head like a young excited hen-filly.

Presently, Song walked over and joined Zuko outside the fence, leaning her elbows across the railings, a bare centimeter between them. Either one of the teens could have bridged the gap – a brush of elbows or shoulders, but both were determinately looking ahead. The small gap might as well have been a mile.

Zuko glanced out of the corner of his eye once or twice, noting how the sun reflected off her brown burnished hair. Song finally seemed to have noticed him looking. A soft sort of look appeared on her face, and their eyes met. She was staring a little, too. "You know…" she said, turning fully to him. "You really don't look anything like your brother and sister."

"What? Oh… yeah." Zuko scratched the back of his neck, aware of how – aside from Aang – they were alone in this little corner of the village. Together. Suddenly, he felt extremely conscious of his scars, and her gaze. "I was adopted when I was little. We all grew up together and Aang… well, he joined us later."

"That must have been nice." She flashed him a smile. "I never had any siblings."

"Well, we fight sometimes, but we always make it up. They're the only family I know." He shrugged. "Thank you for healing them."

"Fire Fever isn't that uncommon. I'm surprised you and Aang haven't fallen ill if you never had it before. " She hesitated very slightly, almost so quickly that Zuko didn't catch it. "It comes from Fire Nation soldiers – you don't need to say anything. I'm not asking, but… well, you should know that people won't judge you."

He stared at her for a blank moment, until her eyes flickered to the left side of his face. Then he understood. "Oh.".

"It's okay," she said quickly. Then she bent, hitching up the hem of her skirt a few inches to show her leg. Pale pink ribbons ran up and down the limb, the flesh looking as hard and unyielding as the skin that slitted his left eye. He wondered how she managed not to walk with a limp. "They've hurt me too."

Zuko swallowed, looking away. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She let the hem fall and reached out to touch his arm, gaining his attention again. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that most people here are refugees, too. We've all been hurt by the Fire Nation. Some of them keep their scars on the inside." She quirked a little smile at him. "Ours are just a little more visible."

He felt odd, as if suddenly aware of the weight of the lie on his chest. He had told Aang not to let anyone know he was the Avatar, and Sokka must not have mentioned it in his fever ramblings. Song naturally assumed that they were refugees, that they – he was running, and not a prince of the enemy.

I'm not a Prince, he told himself sternly. I don't care what Iroh says. I'm Hakoda's second son. I'm Water Tribe.

And he knew he should be feeling angry at the Fire Nation for Song's burned leg. Not guilty.

Song spoke again, seeing his distress and perhaps misreading it. "This place, this village is all about making a fresh start. Your bother's going to be better soon, and I know old Tu-Zen is looking for strong hands to plow the field, if you're looking for work.."

He shook his head. "Thank you, but we have to continue on as soon as Katara and Sokka are better."

"Oh," Song said, softly. She lifted her chin and bit her lip. Zuko followed her gaze to the distant canyons, guarding the sheltered valley. But she didn't speak again, and Zuko felt the invisible gulf widen between them once more.

He cleared his throat, feeling that some explanation was owed – although he didn't know why. He just suddenly wished that the disappointment would fade in her pretty green eyes. "We're going north," he said, after a moment. "We're traveling to the North Pole. Katara's a waterbender and… well, it's the best place for her to learn." This, he felt was much less dangerous than telling her that Aang was the Avatar.

Zuko was looking again out to the paddock and didn't see Song's eyes widen for a moment, or notice her sharp intake of breath.

Aang rode by then, showing off by nearly standing up straight in his saddle and looping Ushi around again before pulling her to a stop by the railing. "You're right, Song. Ushi is a lot of fun! Do either of you want to take a turn?"

Zuko had backed away a step to keep himself out of the ostrich-horse's reach, and quickly shook his head. "No thanks."

By this time, Song had regained her composure and managed a tight grin at them both. "No, I'm fine, but you two haven't eaten today, have you? My mom said she was making duck-beef stew for supper. Why don't you come over?"

Aang gave a regretful little shrug. "I'd love to, but I'm a vegetarian. Besides, I should go make sure Appa has his breakfast. Zuko should go," he added, and actually leaned over in the saddle to dig an elbow in the other boy's shoulder.

The firebender scowled at him, wondering what was wrong with Aang all of a sudden… until he realized that Song was still looking at him expectantly, a slight smile curving at her lips. His own stomach flip-flopped, but in a mostly good way.

"Sure," he said and tentatively returned her smile.

OoOoOoO


Riding an ostrich-horse wasn't as exciting as, say, a giant mongoose-snake, but Ushi was a fast bird, full of energy and sensitive to his commands. But anything was less fun when there wasn't an audience to show off too and Aang quickly grew bored of going around and around the paddock.

He cast a sly glance over his shoulder – Zuko and Song were both out of sight by now, and no one else was around to watch. Still, he made his movements discrete, figuring that if he missed his mark the first time… well, maybe then his plan wasn't meant to be.

But Aang was a twelve year old airbending master, the youngest since Avatar Yeng-Chan. Of course he didn't miss.

A strong breeze whipped from around his palms and struck at the latch holding nearest gate. The hinges groaned, but another suspiciously strong gust of wind did the rest of the work, knocking it open.

Whistling innocently, Aang led Ushi out the paddock.

Aang soon spotted a long twisty track just outside the village which led into the forest beyond. He flicked the reigns, clucking under his tongue. The mare tossed her head and snorted once in good spirit; she was just as eager to run as he was.

The path they were on was well used, packed earth cut on each side by deep wagon ruts. Aang grinned and urged Ushi faster and faster until he could feel the wind over his bare scalp. It wasn't as exhilarating as flying – Aang would rather be above the trees than on the ground any day – but when Ushi switched into a full gallop he gave a whoop that echoed all the way to the canyon walls ahead.

He heard another voice in answer, coming up from somewhere above in the trees, something that sounded very familiar.

Aang reigned the ostrich-horse to a stop, circling her to get a look around. The branches above were winter-bare, but it still took a few minutes to locate the flash of white and brown.

His jaw dropped. A lemur? Here? He'd only see them in the Air Temples before. Keeping his eyes fixed on the creature, he stretched out an arm. "Hey boy… come on down. I won't hurt you."

There was the sound of flapping wings and the lemur alighted to his forearm. Aang reached into his pocket under his orange overcoat where he usually kept a few nuts to eat. "What are you doing all the way out here--" he started to ask, but then stopped.

Each lemur's coat was as different as a person's face, and he had seen these handsome markings of brown and white before. What was more, the lemur wore a thin red collar around its neck. It lay half hidden in his thick fur, the front tagged with a stylized emblem with a three-pointed flame.

This was Prince Iroh's lemur.

"What are you doing here?" Aang repeated, dumbstruck.

The lemur didn't have an answer. It reared up, little hands scrabbling at Aang's fist, looking for the treat he smelled there. Aang let him have it and set the little guy on a nearby branch while he ate. Then, after a few moment's thought, dismounted Ushi and tied her reins there as well.

He bent a gust of air, and with a leap, twisted his way up to the high canopy above. The trees in this forest were tall, the branches thin and brittle the higher he went. Aang leapt from tree to tree, seeking the highest vantage point, balancing lightly as he was taught.

From there he could see the whole valley – from Song's village on one end to the high canyons guarding it all on the other. And off to the distance he saw a line of red-uniformed soldiers descending from the canyon. It looked like a thin river of lava coming down the switchback trail.

"Oh no…"

Aang didn't hesitate. He leapt again from tree to tree, making his way to the canyon. His only thought was that he had to stop them. He couldn't let this village go up in flames because of him. Not like Kyoshi Island. Not like the Air Temples. Not again.

He was aware, vaguely, of the lemur following along right behind him, chittering as if he were engaged in a game of chase.

Finally, Aang came to the clearing and the mouth of the trail. It was a well-fortified entrance, beginning in a single cleft in a rock just wide enough for a wagon to be pushed through. Two stone pillars at least thirty feet tall guarded each side, their faces littered with centuries worth of graffiti from passing travelers. The area was empty, the soldiers hadn't made it down yet.

If he could block that opening, he could stall the Fire Nation… maybe.

Aang ran to the closest of the two pillars and put his hands on it, giving an experimental push. He had seen a lot of earthbending when he had visited his friend Bumi a hundred years ago. There was a lot of… shoving, and some kicking into the ground.

Aang shut his eyes, focusing on his hands – seeking the earthbending he knew had to be within him, somewhere.

"Come on rocks!" he said, with nothing happened. Aang backed up, took another deep breath and then rushed forward, throwing his shoulder into it. "Bend!"

Nothing.

He could hear some of the troops now; the faint call of voices, the low grinding of wagon wheels against stone.

Earthbending wasn't going to work. Aang stood back, took a deep breath, and blew it out again in a gale force winds that smacked against the side of the pillar, scattering dust and pebbles in every direction.

But the stone pillars had been there for centuries, through real gale-force storms. They would not break now for the power of a mere airbender.

Momo flew up to the flat-top of the pillar and looked back down at the boy, ears tilted quizzically.

Aang's face fell. "I can't do it," he whispered, sagging down to rest his palms on his knees. Maybe if he knew just a little bit of earthbending… but he didn't. He wasn't even sure he could find enough water around to do anything, and his airbending just wasn't strong enough to move all those rocks.

And he had run out of time.

The lemur looked out toward the canyon, now trilling out a greeting. Reluctantly, Aang turned and leapt again for the trees, disappearing a moment before a Fire Nation scout rounded the last bend and came into view.

Aang found Ushi clipping contentedly at some of the high grasses where he had tied her. He mounted quickly, no longer smiling, and started her in a gallop back to the town. All the fun was out of the ride… he had to warn everyone in time.

OoOoOoO


Song's small, three room house sat nearly adjacent to the main hospital, separated only by a strip of land planted with early blooming flowers. Like most Earth Kingdom homes in this village, it was built of packed and smoothed earth with square utilitarian sort of windows cut like dark slits out of the mound. Zuko had mistaken it for a supply building earlier.

The inside was sparse, but oddly comfortable. Strips of brightly colored fabric hung where Zuko had been used to seeing furs in the tents back home. The tiny windows let in a surprising amount of light, and cheery candles took care of the rest. And the home had a pleasant smell as well – decades of home cooking had left their mark -- the smells of spices sunk into the walls, making the small home seem welcoming, almost maternal.

Song's mother walked from the kitchen to greet them, wiping her hands on a blue flower apron. It was apparent Song took after her mother, the older woman being perhaps more plump and lined with age. "I see you brought a guest a well." She smiled at Zuko. "Song, would you show your young man to the table?"

The kitchen was set off the main room of the house. Zuko followed the woman, ducking slightly under a low archway.

… And the entire world seemed to stutter to a halt.

It was not possible. It could not be possible.

Prince Iroh sat at the table. He wore a green traveling cloak, still dusty from the road. The royal topknot had been taken down, his long silver hair tied back in a simple queue. He sat there like a simple Earth Kingdom traveler, a cup of tea in his hands, looking up at the new comers with an expression of polite interest. Zuko was the only one who saw the flash of hard triumph in his eyes.

Zuko froze nearly mid-step, too surprised for horror or fear. He heard, distantly, Song's mother make cheerful introductions.

"This is Li. He is a tea merchant come up all the way from Gaoling. He gave me such a good deal on white dragon tea, I had to invite him to dinner."

"It was my pleasure," Iroh said, inclining his head to the woman. "It's rare that I meet another enthusiast."

"My mom is always experimenting with different flavors of tea." Song said, in an aside. Then she seemed to realize, suddenly, how tense and pale he seemed. "Zuko? Are you alright?"

"NO!" Zuko wanted to shout. "You don't know who that is! Get out of here! Run!"

But behind them all, unseen by the two women, a small flame-fed lamp flared – the fire high and bright yellow. It licked at the nearby curtains before guttering back down. A message, or perhaps, a warning.

And once again Zuko felt a strange rush of power thicken the air in the room. He had felt it before – twice in the presence of Iroh, and he knew with a sixth sense he could not name that every lit candle, every lamp, and even the small cooking fire was under Iroh's control.

"Yes," Zuko said, and his voice came out in a rasp. "Yes, I'm fine."

Song gave him a long, measured look, and then directed him towards the table, sitting him opposite Iroh.

Her mother bustled over and set a bowl of soup in front of her guests, along with a mug of spicy-scented tea for Zuko and a refill for Iroh. Zuko stared at the rich looking soup and felt his stomach roil with a sick, oily sensation. How did Iroh track them? Did he know where Sokka and Katara were? Were they already captured? Why was Iroh doing this?

Song's mother sat herself down at the head of the table, already clucking her tongue in mock anxiety over the state of her meal. "This is an old family recipe, passed down from my mother's mother who served the Earth King himself!"

She wouldn't stop staring at him until he took a bite. Zuko did, reluctantly, feeling the strangeness of the situation. If Song and her mother were not here… but that was Iroh's plan, wasn't it? His plan and the reason for his warning. The two women were little more than unknowing hostages. The soup seemed to turn into ash in his mouth, but he forced himself to swallow anyway and mumble, "It's good."

"Oh, I'm so relived," the woman tittered. "I've never cooked for anyone from the Water Tribe before."

"Excuse me," Iroh said, wiping his mouth politely. "But I would not guess by your coloring you were of the Water Tribe. The dark hair and golden eyes—"

"I'm adopted," Zuko snarled and glared at the man. Iroh matched his gaze steadily, although corners of his eyes crinkled slightly in a hidden smile. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

And Song was looking at Zuko oddly again, probably wondering why he was being so rude. He flushed, half in anger and half in embarrassment and broke his stare-off with Iroh, returning sullenly to his soup.

A heavy, awkward silence fell over the table, broken only when Song's mother cleared her throat and turned to Iroh. "We don't often get merchants in our village in the winter months. I hope you didn't find the roads difficult."

"Oh, I have been traveling for some time." Iroh said, "One does get used to it, in my trade. But that is not the only reason I have come here. I am in search of my nephew… he has been lost for a long time."

Zuko visibly twitched, but said nothing.

"How horrible," Song murmured. "Is he fighting in the war?"

He spared her a wane smile. "From what I've heard, no, at least, not directly. My fear is that he may be drawn in soon, and there will be little I can do to help."

"There's not many strong boys left around here who haven't gone to war." Song's mother said, and then looked towards Zuko. "Although, I'm happy to hear the Water Tribe are on the move again. The Earth Kingdom has been taking the blunt of every attack in the last thirty years."

"My dad and the rest of his men have been helping the Earth Kingdom fight the war," said Zuko, a bit stiffly. Then added, almost out of spite, "He's fought many battles against the Fire Nation, and taught me and my brother how to fight, too."

"You are lucky to have been under the tutelage of such a great man." Iroh's reply was bland, dancing on the knife's edge of sarcasm.

Zuko bristled, but Song spoke up before he could. "If he's not gone off to war, why did he leave his family, Li? Your nephew, I mean."

Iroh sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I am not entirely certain, as I was not there at the time. He is smart, but stubborn. He does not realize how much he is needed at home, how much his family misses him. His mother, especially."

"… His mother?" Zuko asked, and the words slipped out without almost on accident. And although he didn't know it, he sounded very young right then.

"A woman gentle in spirit and of uncompromising beauty. His absence has nearly destroyed her."

So what? One part of Zuko said, a nasty biting little voice that sounded a lot like Sokka at his most sarcastic. She's Fire Nation. She's probably done a ton of evil stuff, split up families… I can't feel sorry for her.

Then why did he feel so suddenly sick inside? He felt strange. The room had taken on a slightly skewed angle and he kept hearing the words echoing again and again in his mind. His absence has nearly destroyed her… His absence has nearly destroyed her…

He didn't hear Song mother's murmured regret over this news, or Song's next question.

"I believe he has been… influenced by his friends. They have led him to do things he would not normally do. It is a sad case… the boy I know would never dishonor his family or himself in this strange fashion. But I am certain that if I can convince him to return—"

Zuko wanted to scream at him, wanted to tell him to shut up, to stop playing games and just go away. He didn't want to hear any of this… But another part of him listened with rapt attention – like a man starving, only to be shown a large juicy steak. He was rooted to the spot, staring blankly at his untouched food. Part of him recoiled at Iroh's words… the rest kept him rooted to the spot, unable to turn away.

"Maybe this nephew of yours doesn't want to go back." Zuko said, quickly. "Maybe he's made his decision, and doesn't want anything to do with you."

Iroh simply sipped his tea, pretending to chew over Zuko's words, and completely unconcerned about them. "I wish to give him one last chance, to see that he has been turned falsely against his family, that he has been lied too—"

"Lied—?!" He snapped his jaw shut against the rest of his outraged. He was aware, peripherally, of Song staring at him again. Zuko glared down at his soup, his clenched fists in his lap.

Song's mother, however, seemed to have figured it out… or at least part of it. She glanced from Zuko to Iroh and back again, taking in their similar coloring, and the way they both folded their napkins into perfect triangles, set on the left side of their plates.

"You must care about your nephew very much," she offered, gently.

Iroh nodded. "I have made it my personal mission to see him returned home, and return to those who truly care for him."

"If something ever happened to my daughter…" The woman, reached across the table to lay her hand over Song's. "I would be heartbroken without her. I feel for this woman, Li, and your nephew. I really do."

"Shut up," Zuko hissed, breaking the game at last. He stared down at his plate, hurting, and not really knowing why. "You don't know what you're talking about. You--You don't--"

"Zuko," Iroh said, and Zuko looked up still without wanting too. "I cannot imagine how it has been for you… what you have been put though, and what you have done to survive. But these people care only for the boy they have made you. Not for who you truly are."

He said nothing. His throat felt tight and he shook his head, denying Iroh's words. But they battered against him, they hit over at a tender weak spot he didn't even know he had, until now. He had a people, a father. He was Water Tribe.

"No." It came out as a whisper, pitiful against Iroh's words. It would have been easier if the other man was angry… But Iroh just looked sad.

"You are the first-born son of Ozai and Ursa."

"No. I—I'm Hakoda's son."

For the first time Iroh's face flashed in anger. His fist came down upon the table, making all the silverware jump. "What do you think happened that day? You say you were found on a Fire Nation ship. How is that possible, my nephew? With your face being one of the most recognizable in the Nation? Your people love your father and your mother. Who would betray them to kidnap their son? And then confidently fall into the hands of the Water Tribe? Surely, you must realize how this sounds?"

"No!" Zuko turned to Song and her mother, as if seeking their support. They were staring at the two of them, mute in horror and dawning realization. "This isn't—" He stopped and glared back at Iroh. "You're twisting the facts."

"I'm merely repeating your own words, nephew. You told me yourself the first thing you remembered was waking up on a Water Tribe ship."

"They saved my life—"

"Is that what you truly believe, Zuko? Or is that what they forced you to believe?"

"No… No… That's not how it was, Uncle!" Too late, did he realize what he had said.

Iroh heard it too. "Prince Zuko," he said, kindly, with great understanding. "I'm begging you one last time… Abandon this foolhardy mission. Return home with me, and see the truth for yourself."

Song gave a gasp. Her hand flew up to her mouth. "Prince?" And her and Zuko's eyes met and Zuko could clearly see the fear in them.

He shot up from the table as if the seat had burned him – Her shock and horror acted like spark to tinder. His own rage, shame at himself, for what he was, flared up in the pit of his belly, boiling upward like liquid nausea.

A ring of fire burst forth between his own fingers. Song and her mother screamed, diving to the side and Iroh was on his feet as well, the table upending between them.

"NO." Zuko snarled, and his face was distorted with pain and the fire light dancing in his hands.

As much as the monster Zuko seemed to become, Iroh remained calm – and sad. His face suddenly seemed to have more lines to it, his hair that much more silver. "I have done all I can, nephew. This is your last chance. I have put my own mission at risk for you, delayed capturing the Avatar and securing Fire Nation victory for you in the hopes that you come to your senses. This ends today. You either return in honor, Prince Zuko, or you return in chains."

Zuko was aware of the candles, the lamps, even the stove flaring up once more under Iroh's power. His own fire seemed very small, the flame very cool in comparison. "I'll fight you!" he yelled. "I challenge you to… to an Agni Kai!"

"I do not accept." Iroh said, flatly. He stepped forward, perhaps to say more, but Zuko struck out. He thrust out his hand, palm up and the flame shot at the man like a jet of water—

-- Iroh dissipated it into a wisp of smoke with an easy sweep of his hand. Then he yanked the simple table cloth out from table before him and threw over his nephew.

It was a simple, shockingly effective trick. Zuko made to knock it away, but the thin cloth billowed over his head anyway and fowled his arms, for just a second. And that moment of distraction was all Iroh needed. He was around the remains of the table in an instant. He jabbed out a clawed hand, striking Zuko a finger length above his belly-button – the exact in a pressure point just above the sea of chi – where a firebender drew his power.

Something deep within Zuko seized up. His legs gave out under him and he collapsed bonelessly to the floor as if an invisible puppet master had cut the strings on his body. He couldn't get up, couldn't see -- the ridiculous table-cloth was still over his head, pillowing his world in white. He could barely even move. An aching coldness had anchored itself in his center, like a block of ice in his gut, seeping outward his limbs. Iroh had done something to him – he could breathe, but he couldn't spark a flame to warm himself… he couldn't firebend at all.

Song was screaming – Zuko heard the sound of a shattering plate and Iroh's grunt of impact.

"Leave him alone you monster!"

"Stand aside, young lady. This does not concern you."

Zuko sucked in half a breath, just enough to banish the dancing black dots in front of his eyes. But no matter what he did he felt half frozen inside. Almost as cold and weak as he felt during the winter solstices back home. He shouldn't have been able to move at all.

But he had learned long time ago, on that first dark winter, to exist without his bending.

Slowly, painfully he reached upward and tugged the cloth away. He was staring level at Song's boots – she stood there right between him and Iroh, another plate in her hand. Her expression was thunderous.

It took every ounce of effort in him to will his body to move past the weakness in his limbs. Every muscle felt limp, weak and lethargic. Somehow he got his feet under him and, bracing himself against one leg of the upended table, forced himself up on his feet again, as wobbly as a newborn lion-elk.

And for the first time, he registered blank shock on Prince Iroh's face. That faded almost instantly, to become hard again. He stepped forward –

There was a whistle of wind, a sudden change in air pressure that made everyone's ears pop. The front door slammed open on its hinges and Aang rushed in, speaking so fast he was a blur. "Zuko!A-whole-bunch-of-Fire-Nation-troops-are-coming-down-from-the-canyon.I've-warned-the-mayor,but—" He skidded to a stop, noticing Iroh at last, pin-wheeling his arms widely behind him, his mouth and eyes almost comically wide.

"Aang, run!" Zuko yelled, but Iroh had already struck out, unleashing an efficient bolt of fire.

Aang nearly bent over double backwards in order to avoid the fire – it shot past him and lit the far wall aflame. His returning gust of air hit hard. Zuko and Song were only glanced by it, and both fell over again. Iroh somehow held firm, ducking his head against the wind.

He did not count on an attack from behind -- Song's mother charged in from the kitchen, a rolling pin in one hand. He turned, but she was already in mid-swing and the rolling pin connected over the top of his head with a loud crack.

Iroh fell to the ground and lay very still.

But the flames from his single shot at Aang had caught upon some of the paper window-shades and flared upward, leaping to the wooden rafters up in the ceiling where it caught again, crackling like dry tinder.

Aang turned to Zuko, who was struggling to sit up again. "What are you waiting for?"

"I can't." He reached an unsteady hand towards the blaze, but he felt disconnected from the fire. The ice was a dark rot in his gut. "Iroh did something to me. I can't bend at all."

The smoke was thickening now, pouring down from the ceiling. A beam cracked and fell between the kitchen and the front door, and the flames raged like something alive. The fire had caught along the roof – there was no putting it out now.

"We need to get out of here," Zuko said.

"On it." Aang twisted in place and blew out a man-sized chunk out of the nearby wall. Orange light spilled in from the setting sun like a beacon of safety. The young monk bent down, helping Song's mother along to the new exit. The poor woman was weeping and shaking her hands. Shock from Iroh's attack, her own actions, and the spreading fire had overwhelmed her.

Zuko felt a hand close around his arm, hauling him to his feet. Song. She wore a hard, determined expression – the friendly healer girl was gone.

Aang helped the older woman out of the gap and then turned. "Wait, we can't leave yet. What about Iroh?"

For one moment Zuko considered replying, "What about Iroh?" But some part – he suspected the Water Tribe part – made him hold his tongue. You didn't just leave a man behind, even if you didn't like him. Maybe even if he was your enemy and had chased you more than halfway across the world. "I'll get him. Make sure Katara and Sokka are alright. I'll meet you with Appa."

Aang hesitated, clearly torn, and Zuko opened his mouth to snap at him to go, but Song spoke first. "It's okay. I'll be with him."

He doesn't trust me? But Zuko forced that thought away. That couldn't have been it. Ice still ran through his veins and he was slightly hunched around his stomach, shivering visibly. And even when he turned back inside the house the heat tightened the skin on his face, but did nothing for the strange cold in his core.

The fire had spread rapidly along the rafters, creating a ceiling of writhing orange and red – beautiful to a firebender's eyes.

Zuko ducked down where the air was still breathable. He felt one of Song's hands clench the back of his tunic. "Iroh!" he yelled, but his voice was raspy with smoke and lost in the dull roar of the fire and the crackle of the wood.

He crawled forward – the smoke was soon so thick he didn't find the man until he was nearly on top of him. Iroh was still unconscious and Zuko couldn't tell if he breathed, although Song put a hand to the pulse point of his neck and nodded.

"Iroh!" Zuko grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him – Iroh's head flopped limply to the side. "Wake up you fat, lazy—" he broke off, coughing. The smoke had gotten to him and he felt light headed…

There was a loud crack of wood and one of the thick beams fell down from the ceiling somewhere off to the side with a crash that shook the floor. It broke Zuko's daze. He came back to reality to see Song tugging on the man's arm; she meant to drag him out of here if he couldn't get up on his own.

Iroh… weighed a lot. Weak, frozen inside, dizzy from smoke inhalation, Zuko would have never been able to do it without Song's help. She shoved him along when he faltered, one hand pulling Iroh and the other had nails digging into his arm. Without her he would have surely given into the urge to rest, to close his eyes and let the fire warm him.

As it was, he lost track of himself. There was only the effort of dragging the man, inch by inch back across the ruins of the floor, towards vague bright light that was freedom. He was almost surprised to find himself at the hole in the wall again. At once, he, Song and Iroh tumbled out, soot smeared and coughing.

Zuko lay back against the cool ground for a moment, staring up at the pure blue sky – so different from the dark cobalt blue back home – and heard Song's house burn down and the distant scream of frightened people.

He had almost forgotten that the fire Nation was raiding.

Iroh was stirring at last beside him; blinking, twisting his head to stare at the burning house and then down at himself as if surprised to find himself still alive.

Song scooted away nervously, but Zuko felt anger return to his gut. It didn't melt the ice, but it gave his limbs strength. He leaned over, grabbing Iroh's tunic and hauling him up to a sitting position. Iroh made no move to defend himself. His amber eyes were vague and slightly confused, perhaps from the blow to the head or the smoke.

"How?" the aged prince asked, simply.

Zuko didn't know what he was asking. He didn't care. Rage flared up all over again and he leaned in close. "If you ever…" he rasped. His throat was raw and dry as a bone from breathing smoke… but oddly tight, like he was going to cry. And maybe it was sweat on his cheeks, or maybe tears. "If you…Ever again… I'll kill you." It was all he could say. All that would come out.

But Iroh seemed to understand. At least, he nodded, gravely. When Zuko let him go he sat back and made no move to attack further.

And Zuko turned his back on him – the man who used to be his uncle. He got to his feet again, saw Song do the same. She slipped a supporting arm around his shoulders and together they staggered away.

OoOoOoO


Villagers were running back and forth in a mass of panic. Some clutched small children, some with their possessions. A few good souls half heartedly grabbed buckets from a nearby well, but the flames were licking high in Song's house and wind carried embers to the hospital roof. There was no saving it.

Song made a sound of distress. Her grip tightened again on Zuko, but amazingly… she didn't drop her arm. She didn't scream accusations at him – although he expected it at any moment. Her eyes were bright with tears, but she only helped him along and didn't stop to weep.

"Song," he began, knowing that she was owed an explanation… and more of an apology than he would ever be able to give. "I—"

"Frozen frogs," she blurted, cutting him off.

"… What?"

"For your si—for Katara and Sokka. It's an old woodland remedy, but sucking on frozen frogs can reduce the symptoms of Fire Fever."

He regarded for a long moment as if she had grown two heads. But he was very tired and decided not to press his luck. In any case, they were drawing to the other side of the hospital now. Zuko could hear Appa bellowing in the middle distance. He withdrew his arm from around her shoulder. The Fire Nation was coming. Song had to find her mother and leave… he had to make his escape as well.

But she reached out, gripping his cold wrist. "No, wait! That man – he said something about the Avatar."

He felt tempted to point out that she had, in fact, seen Aang airbend, but so much had happened so quickly. "Yes," he said. "It's Aang. That's why we're going to the North Pole. He'll be safer there."

She drew in a quick breath. "Then… I know the stories. They say the Avatar has to learn all four elements."

"Yes," he repeated, sharper now. They didn't have time for this. "Why?"

She didn't let go. She stared at him for such a long moment he wondered if she meant to ask to come. And he didn't know what his answer would be.

"There's a group, not far from here," she said, in a rush. "My mom and I have treated their people, in secret. They're against the war – and they say they're led by a firebender. A good one."

Zuko stared at her, his good eye wide in shock. "Someone against the Fire Nation?"

"Yes. I… I'm not supposed to tell anyone. If they knew – but I thought you shouldn't be alone."

She reached up to touch his cheek, and for one odd, fluttery moment, he was sure he was going to kiss her.

Then Appa bellowed again – louder – and they could hear shouted orders from deep throats and what sounded like muffled explosions. They had run out of time.

Song let go his wrist and with one last look and a smile, she was gone.

Zuko watched after her for a few moments, and then turned away. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he didn't feel so cold inside. The place where she had touched his wrist felt almost warm.

He staggered around the corner of the burning hospital. And it the middle of the field beyond towards the stables stood Appa with Sokka, Katara and Aang already in the saddle. The bison gave a great bellow, ducking his head. He looked ready to spring into the sky in a second.

Zuko broke into a loping jog. It was all he could manage, and Katara and Aang both had to reach down to help him into the saddle. He made an ungainly entrance, falling into the saddle across Sokka's legs.

"Yip-Yip!" Aang called, and with a bunching of muscles and massive lurch that sent all of their stomach's plummeting to their toes, Appa leapt into the sky.

Katara glanced over at him, taking in his sooty, singed, exhausted appearance with an alarmed eye. "What happened to you?"

"Iroh happened," he gritted out. Grabbing the sidewall of the saddle, he hefted himself up onto his knees and cautiously lifted his shirt. His stomach was a mass of yellow and green tinged bruises, darkened to five purple points where Iroh had jabbed him. It didn't hurt, exactly, although the purple spots felt sort of numb. But he was sure now that the icy feeling deep inside was melting away – either time had done the trick or the cold was driven out by the weak winter sun.

Sokka looked up at him and Zuko could see his blue eyes were clear and lucid, even if there was a runnel of snot coming out of one nostril. "You know," he huffed, weakly, "I don't think that Prince Iroh likes us very much."

Zuko snorted, but his reply stuck in his throat when his brother's gaze sharpened, focusing over his shoulder past him. He turned and saw, something white and brown glide down out of the sky and land on the horned tip of Appa's saddle. Iroh's lemur.

"Zuko, get my boomerang," Sokka said. "It's in my pack. I'll let you do the honors."

"Sokka!" Katara snapped. "That's mean!"

The lemur just cocked its head at them then hopped over, coming to rest on Aang's outstretched arm. It made a purring sound, deep in its throat, and rubbed its little head against the monk's cheek, almost as if in apology. Then it took off again, just as quickly as it arrived.

The kids leaned over the side of the saddle, watching it zip through the air. They were high above the village now, above even the billows of smoke still coming up over the remains of the hospital. The lemur dived downward, circled once, and came to rest upon the shoulder of a man standing on the outskirts of the village.

Iroh.

Zuko's lips pressed into a thin line and sat back on his heels, turning away to rest his back against the side of the saddle-wall. Katara joined him a few moments later, bumping his shoulder with hers in a friendly sort of way. "Hey," she said, softly, so that their voices didn't carry to Aang and Sokka. "What happened back there?"

He crossed his arms and looked away. "Nothing."

"Zuko…"

"I don't want to talk about it." He looked up at her, and his eyes were bright. "Not right now."

She gave him a long, steadying look. Then she nodded, patting his arm in a gentle, understanding sort of way. She turned back to Aang and Sokka, coughing politely into her hand. She was mending from Fire Fever, although not all the way recovered. Zuko would have to make sure Aang stopped Appa later on for her frozen frog cure.

But right now he could only stare out into the endless sky, and reply Iroh's words back in his head.

What happened that day, nearly six years ago? Why had he been on a Fire Nation ship in the first place? Zuko's eyes darted back and forth, for the first time in a long time trying… really trying to remember anything before he had woken up on the Water Tribe ship.

As always, there was nothing.

OoOoOoO