A/N: Hmm. An anonymous review attempted to place this story in canon. I started its predecessor, "Prison Conversations", with the start of the second season, adapting it to fit the season as it unfolded. For a long time, I tried to adapt "Passages" to fit in canon as well, but a reader on LJ reminded me that my character development really diverged from the second season fairly early on. She was, of course, correct. Therefore, at best this takes place somewhat after "Zuko Alone", although some elements of canon were incorporated to bring it more in line well into the second season, say, up to Tales of Ba Sing Se. But really, that is stretching it pretty far. I'm willing to accept that it went AU with "The Chase".

No, this story is not yet over. I hope I'm a good enough writer that 'the end' will be self-evident when it comes. In any case, you will have sufficient warning in author's notes and chapter titles (e.g. "epilogue") to keep you clued in. I admit, though, wrapping this puppy up is proving…challenging, given my original expectations.

Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't claim it, am thereby exempt from legal action thereby.

Chapter 21

The one-girl army was resting her chin on her crossed arms, knees pulled up as she snugged her back against the wall of the saddle, struggling with her queasy stomach.

Appa was flying fast, but it would still be several hours before they would get far enough north that Aang would be ready to take a break. The boy hadn't done any real flying in weeks, not since Iroh had begun his fire-bending training, actually. Toph winced as she considered the joy that now fairly radiated in every direction from the air-bender, and the dogged determination that had been his predominant emotion since she had known him. She would bear up under the time in the air without complaint. At least the weather was still holding out today, and there were other compensations on this trip that had been missing from the last one.

Iroh was sitting just in front of her, and his ample frame made a nice wind-block.

Whereas she faced inward, the old man hung his own head over the side of the saddle, avidly watching the changing countryside below.

No wonder the air nomads were reputed to be such a cheerful people. Flying must be the most sublime sensation a man can experience, next to looking into his child's eyes for the first time. What madness to destroy a people with the potential for so much joy! Ah, but, perhaps it was as much envy for that as it was fear of the Avatar that motivated my grandfather anyway. I can't imagine the old brute ever spent much time contemplating joy, actually. Certainly Father didn't. Of course, carrying on the unfinished war was a terrible burden for him. Truly, I swear the first time I saw him smile at me was that first day in the war room when I suggested the offensive against the Tubai Valley. What, I was only a bit older than Zuko, that horrible ill-fated day I let him into the war room. Zuko was so ill-prepared. But I'd been studying the maps for weeks, and the generals had only overlooked the possibility because they were focused on the richer Zheng River valley, where the enemy's armies were concentrated. If I'd known how rough and steep the Tubai was I might have held my tongue. Then again, that's exactly why it wasn't well fortified… And Iroh found himself lost in the past, remembering the pride on Azulon's face, almost forgetting the inspiration for the memory.

Katara sat at the front of the saddle, her own mind filled with memories. She was reminded yet again that, for the first time in her life, Katara had gone more than a month without seeing Sokka. Oh sure, when they were younger Sokka had gone out fishing for days at a time with their father. But after Dad left with the other men Sokka had made a point of taking her with him every time he left the village. It was as if he had sensed her loneliness, or maybe he was just compensating for his own sense of loss. Besides each other, really, they only had their aging grandmother left, and Gran-Gran had always been oddly self-sufficient when it came to the ties that bound the members of the Water Tribe.

Given what they now knew of her history, this made a certain sense. But for the children they were, it was merely a mystery that had drawn the two of them closer together. Of course, he never said as much, and Sokka certainly had made a point of being obnoxious and condescending at every opportunity. And yet, he was always there for her. Had always been there.

As the days of their separation continued to mount, and in her terror at his almost certain execution, Katara had felt wracked with guilt at having dragged her brother on this mad adventure to save the world with Aang. With her own increasing skills as a water-bender and subsequent rise in self-confidence, she had been only vaguely aware as Sokka shouldered his self-assigned responsibilities as group leader. Subconsciously she had noticed as he dealt with his own unsettled attachments, the crumbling of his understanding of the world and rapid rebuilding of the same, and coming to terms with the various forms of bending. She must have noticed, since she was now highly aware of a strong overlay of admiration for her brother that she didn't remember being a part of the connection she had always felt to him. After all, it was one thing to love someone; it was something else entirely to feel completely bereft at their absence.

No wonder she had felt so adrift since Sokka's capture. It wasn't just the loss of her childhood anchor that she missed; it was Sokka's firm sense of purpose and direction that she had relied upon. That they all had trusted in. They had all known he wasn't really their leader, exactly. No, Sokka had become something of their human compass, in more ways than perhaps they had realized.

The blue arrow of Aang's cranial tattoo seemed to echo her thoughts as, with a turn of his head, Aang caught Katara's attention.

Pointing off to a fog-shrouded headland marking the northern end of the large bay they were currently tracking, Aang grabbed his staff. With a quick smile to Katara, he dove from Appa's head, only to immediately swoop up and outward as the glider's wings and tail fanned out. Appa grunted in acknowledgement as Katara took her friend's place with Appa's reins.

Iroh looked at Katara with the unspoken question.

"He's just going to check our bearings against the map, you know," she shrugged. "Actually, if you watch him you'll see him doing a bunch of fancy swoops and dives. I think he's just using it as an excuse to play. This kind of flying gets kind of boring for him after a while."

Toph groaned. Why did Katara have to talk about Aang's trick flying? Just when she was starting to get a handle on her air-sickness…

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The fog drifting in over that headland had, in fact, suggested to Aang the promise of stronger wind currents further out to sea, and he couldn't restrain himself from checking them out. The boy's limbs cried out to be tested against the shifting pressures wrought by cold waters, heated air, and stolid stone.

He knew he would find colonies of sea-birds circling and diving, forming patterns in attempts to foil the sharp eyes and even sharper acrobatics of aerial predators, all haunting the headland cliffs in a seasonal dance of death, rebirth and continuance that brought concrete meaning to the symbolic balance he had been taught all his life to revere.

And that was it, really. The sheer physical joy of outrageous flight put into the context of natural balance to justify its infinite pleasure. Aang finally realized that he was old enough to appreciate that there were very few delights indeed that did not exact some cost.

The simple reality was that he desperately needed to realize some pleasure in his life, despite his acceptance of its burdens. If that made him still too much of a child, or perhaps vaulted him into early realization of being an adult, he really didn't care to consider. After all, would it make any difference?

So a stooping hawk found itself outpaced by a vision in saffron and gold, flouting the predator's dive. One family would go hungry this day. The only question was, which one…

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"Guess Jeong-Jeong isn't the only one who's a little crazy," Sokka ventured.

"Hmm. Actually, your rants are usually a bit more coherent. Or maybe just more… entertaining."

"Thank you very much," Sokka sighed, hunkering down to let one hand trail in the cold water at the stream's edge. "I just get tired of being told I don't understand, or that I'm a foolish kid. I know that. But, dammit, I've seen battle, I've seen people die, and I can't just do nothing."

"I don't understand," Zuko said, his attention now fully on Sokka and his own thoughts forgotten. "You seem grimmer now than I've ever seen you. Damn it, Sokka, even when you were facing a death sentence you seemed more, well, focused and determined than you are now."

Sokka didn't answer, musing himself on the answer to Zuko's implied question. He honestly didn't understand himself.

Finding himself imprisoned with the Fire Prince, Sokka had been dismayed by the likelihood that he would not survive to help Aang accomplish his mission of bringing balance back to the world by defeating the Fire Nation. But he had found solace, first in tormenting the other boy by confounding his expectations of the inferiority of his enemy, and later in defying the Fire Nation by hounding the prince out of his depression and loss of spirit. Actually achieving escape had been the icing on the cake for Sokka, a satisfaction only exceeded by the revelation of his father's attempt to rescue him from all but certain death.

Throughout, Zuko's presence had been just another element to factor in and measure himself against. Of course he had recognized his growing appreciation of Zuko's intelligence and adaptability. Which meant that Zuko's unaccountable assistance in destroying the prison remained the mystery, binding Sokka to the other boy's side when all other inclination recommended leaving him behind. Virtually all else could be explained in terms of honor debt, a concept Sokka knew was central to Zuko's being. And thus, of course, perfectly comprehensible.

He wouldn't admit it, even to himself, but it didn't hurt that Zuko was the closest he'd come to a peer since before his father's fleet had left the South Pole. It was strange, but he felt far more empathy for the Fire Prince than he had ever felt for the Northern Tribesman Hahn. When his hideously diligent brain threatened to examine the issue, he fobbed it off by admitting to himself his jealousy of Hahn's engagement to Yue, disregarding any suggestion that he might have shared more in sensibility or ethics with someone from the Fire Nation than someone from his sister tribe.

Which made it incredibly difficult when it came to explaining his own touchiness since it had become apparent that Jeong-Jeong actually looked upon Zuko with favor.

"I'm still focused. That was the point of that stupid outburst, wasn't it?" he finally said. "Jeong-Jeong was just going to rant on about one person's inability to make any real difference. You heard him. The man's totally disillusioned, and hell, I don't blame him. After all, he's been fighting on the wrong side for years - " Sokka took a sideways glance at Zuko.

"Your opinion." The prince returned mildly. The two had debated the point too many times now for Zuko to rise automatically at words that at one time would have enflamed him instantly.

"I guess I should be glad he's sidelined himself, but it still frustrates me. You just know a man like that could make a difference. If he was working for the rest of us, instead of just not working against us…" he left the thought unfinished.

"His honor is lost in stepping aside in the first place. Do you really expect him to compound it by actively helping you?"

Sokka turned to meet Zuko's gaze. Both knew that they weren't just talking about Jeong-Jeong any more.

The divide drawn by Zuko's change of clothing shouted out words they'd stubbornly avoided.

Sokka gave Zuko a lop-sided grin and shrugged. The gesture conveyed, he hoped, acceptance and understanding of Zuko's position without any hint of surrender. It was more than he would have offered even a week ago, and a part of him wished that Zuko could acknowledge the distance he had come.

"I admit that it is a terrible thing to turn your back on a sworn allegiance. Jeong-Jeong owed a duty to your father, and your father is justified in outlawing him," he took a deep breath. "It takes great courage to recognize when you owe a duty to more than just your lord. I can see that many would view what Jeong-Jeong did as mere cowardice, but I do think he saw a greater duty in stepping aside. It seems to me he's prepared to face the punishment for failing the lesser duty in the face of the higher duty."

Zuko's eyes narrowed, but he kept his voice even. This was not, after all, unexpected. How long had he spent in Sokka's company, anyway?

"You are, of course, attempting to draw parallels." Neither would explicitly mention the elephant-whale in the room of a certain Fire Nation troop force.

"Hell, no. I wouldn't presume."

"Riight. Are you trying to tell me that Jeong-Jeong's 'higher duty' is owed to the Avatar, perhaps?"

Sokka snorted. "Damn, you are an idiot. I thought we were both agreed that 'Jeong-Jeong' owed his highest duty to the Fire Nation. The only question is what is in the best interests of the Fire Nation. I say the Fire Lord clearly is not seeking the best interests of anyone but himself." Again Sokka shrugged. "But then, I guess I can't blame you for taking a Tribesman's word on that. You've got to figure it out for yourselves."

Now neither looked to the other. As sunlight dappled the water flowing before them, each took refuge in the shifting light and color, hesitant to read too much in wordless glances.

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'Admiral' Jeong-Jeong poured himself another cup of tea, contemplating the latest message from his brothers in the Order even as he considered the morning's development that had yielded to him an extraordinary game-piece. Should he really proceed in light of the potential presented by the presence of Prince Zuko?

Of course, there was no predicting the direction the young prince would lean. It was not, after all, inconceivable that his incarceration with an impending death sentence would have solidified in him unwavering allegiance to his lord and father. That way lay a promise of safety, no matter how illusory. And the boy was so young, and so damaged.

Still, the prince had arrived in the company of a water tribesman. The level of sheer trust between the two was extraordinarily strong, given the reports of his tactical team and various agents placed among the villagers. He'd witnessed for himself the willingness of one to endanger himself for the other.

Jeong-Jeong was no fool. The tribesman had trusted the fire-bender not to strike him down even when he had to know the fire-bender was enraged. What could have possibly built such a level of trust to bridge the gap between two such strongly opposing cultures? Was it that these were two extraordinary individuals, or merely two ordinary young men caught up in extraordinary circumstances? Perhaps it didn't even matter. The point was, this was not an opportunity to be wasted, for any of those who cared about the balance of the world being restored.

Jeong-Jeong cast the message from the Order onto the coals still burning beneath the kettle.

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