Fwoa. I actually did this in less than a month. Badass.
Amazing what you can do when there's no university LOL
Disclaimer: I own nothing of course. Don't know why I still say that. Force of habit, really.
"When did this happen?"
She was touching his scar. Zuko pulled away from her hand, trying self-consciously to hide his face behind his tattered mane of black hair. He unwound himself from her embrace, face flushed. Zuko ran his hands through his hair, unable to look her in the eye. He leaned against the spindly work-table. She may as well have punched him in the stomach. Zuko felt in pain. She didn't know a thing. His chest felt oddly tight, and he struggled to breathe. She had no idea what had happened to him. She didn't know what his father had done. A small noise escaped from Ursa's throat, and she wrapped one arm around his shoulder, and with the other, gently guided his chin, encouraging her son to look her in the eye.
"Please tell me."
"I'm surprised you didn't hear." Zuko pulled his face away, feeling short of breath. "I-I mean... People have to know, they can't all be ignorant." He looked down at his hands. So she just thought he would somehow get by? She knew what he was like, how could she not see it coming? He was indignant. He'd tried to reason with himself – many times, of why she left him and what might have happened, but although he'd never come up with a reason, the hopeless yearning to see her again snuffed out any embers of resentment. Now that he saw her with his own eyes, they started to smoulder. "You never asked anyone?"
"No one knows anything in this city." Ursa still dabbed at her eyes. She wasn't one for theatrics and sobbing; she let the tears flow silently, dampening the front of her clothes. Zuko clenched his hands into fists. That wasn't true. Jin knew. She found things out, by asking. His mother could have always asked someone something. Did she just assume Zuko would be fine? "I never heard a thing... I thought you were with your father."
"That was a mistake." Zuko rose to his feet. He felt angry, so angry. How could the relief and shock and overwhelming joy dissolve into anger so quickly? What was wrong with him? What was wrong with her? How could she leave him with that monster?
"What do you mean?" Ursa's voice was very small. "He promised he wouldn't let anything ha-"
"And you trusted him?" Zuko's voice was slowly rising. He was burning with rage, as the bitterness he'd ignored for years caught alight. On the other side of the door, Jin tensed. "He was going to kill me and you left me with him!"
"It was for your safety, I had no-"
"What safety!" Zuko kicked at the chair. Ursa was silent against the table, her lower lip quivering. "I was never safe with him!" He sank into the chair, violently trembling. His hands were very hot, and his face was flushed. He was angry at her – but angrier at him. Once again, Zuko was forced to consider the extent of his father's atrocities, and he had to tell her. How could she not know what had happened to him?
"What happened?" Ursa's voice broke; she was losing control. Zuko's head sank into his hands. She crouched down before him, taking his hands and tugging them away. Zuko's good eye was red.
"Who do you think did this?" His voice was a hollow whisper. Ursa's hands dropped, and she fell onto her knees. No. How could he? Ursa shook her head with a low moan, welling with horror. She knew Zuko wouldn't be as happy with him, but she never expected this. "Are you surprised?" Zuko sounded cold and bitter. He no longer wanted to throw himself into her arms. He watched her screw her face up tight and bury herself in her hands, shaking her head. He felt oddly removed from the woman crying on the floor at his feet. Disgust welled in his stomach at the sight. "I'm banished. I'm wanted. I'm a traitor and a failure." His stinging words were like acid. He spat them out behind clenched teeth. "If you tried to save me from him, it failed."
"I-I thought Iroh would p-protect you." Ursa didn't know how else to react to this – she had crumpled into herself.
"Well, he didn't." Zuko regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. They made his Uncle look like a traitor, when in reality, he had saved his life. But hot anger burned in his stomach and he had to take it out on someone. Zuko rose to his feet, turning away from his mother. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep his vision clear. "I'm going." Ursa let out a cry as Zuko approached the door, clumsily hauling herself up by her stool.
"Zuko don't." Despite her fragile appearance, Ursa was as hard as steel. But Zuko's resentful words tore off her hard shell, digging into the soft pulpy mess of her heart. The child she'd held and loved and sacrificed life seemed gone forever. How could this cold, bitter young man be her son? He was twisted and cruel. After his initial tears, he'd dried out and hardened himself against her. "I... I did everything I could..." Her pleading sounded pathetic even to her own ears. How could she put it into coherent words? She could never make him understand. Ursa instead wrapped her son in a fierce embrace, hoping she could comfort him. But it was ineffectual; he was rigid and unyielding against her, putting up with the treatment for just a few seconds before pulling away, staring down at his feet.
"Stop it." Zuko folded his arms. Ursa stepped back, sinking down into the stool. He pulled the door open, and left the room without another word. He couldn't talk to her. He didn't have anything to say, he didn't know what to do. Zuko left before his words could hurt her anymore, before he said something he regretted, turned over a stone that was best left alone. He walked blindly down the stairs, breathing rapidly. He felt as though he was suffocating. Halfway down the staircase, Zuko stilled, leaning heavily against the wall. He was light-headed, bus his limbs heavy and dead. He slid down onto the stairs with his eyes closed, head in his hands.
"Give it some time." Zuko's head snapped up. Their eyes met. Jin leaned against the banister, facing him with a small smile on her face. "She's got a lot to deal with, too. Her kid is suddenly grown up and she doesn't like what she sees."
"I didn't mean to yell at her." Zuko spoke very quietly. He didn't see Ursa standing at the head of the stairs. "I don't know what happened. I just had this rage. I know she had no choice, but I still feel like she abandoned me." The moment they had locked their gaze, Zuko knew that he wasn't going to hide a thing from her. He couldn't afford to. "I would have been better off with her instead of being with Dad."
"So that's what made you angry." Jin murmured thoughtfully. "I don't know why she left, but she must have had some reasons. No mother would just leave their children. Not without an explanation." No mother worth their salt, at least.
"She killed the old Fire Lord, Azulon." Zuko said very softly. Jin stilled. "Staying would have sealed her death." Jin let out long sigh, chewing on her thumbnail. Committing murder, that was serious. Ursa pressed her lips together, trying to muffle a tiny noise in her throat. "But I could have gone too... I would have been so much happier with her..." He closed his eyes, shaking his head. It was difficult to think about; the 'what if'.
"Come on." Jin eventually leaned forward, taking his hands. Zuko willingly allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. Ursa lurched forward unsteadily, wanting nothing more than to run down the stairs and pull him back. But she restrained herself, leaning against the wall as she watched her son being led down the stairs by the hand. Ursa raised a trembling hand to her face, trying to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She felt as though she'd suffered a physical blow. The precious image she'd maintained of her child was just a mask, broken and scattered at her feet. The teenage boy who walked down the hall seemed alien to her – no. He didn't. She'd seen that blind rage many times before. In Ozai. Zuko was turning into him. The idea sent an icy shiver down her back, made her feel sick. The damage had been done, and he felt lost to her.
But she wouldn't give up – she could never give up. The bond she'd severed between them would be repaired. Somehow. This was a day she'd both longed for and dreaded for years. Of course Zuko would be mad at her; he had every right, after what she had done. In his eyes, she'd left him with a sadist who tortured and outcasted him, while she enjoyed safety and serenity. How could she explain things to him? Even if she told him everything, her vision, her secret vow, it would be cold comfort to the boy who felt abandoned by his mother. Zuko wouldn't listen to her, not now.
No. Ursa walked slowly down the stairs, watching the pair leave the house silently. She leaned against the wall, trying to control the nausea rising in her stomach. She couldn't breathe. There was nothing in that bitter young man that resembled the child she used to sing to sleep. Ursa had given everything to save the life of her child.
And it seemed to her, that child was already dead.
"Are you thirsty?"
Aang jerked out of his torpor, finding Katara hovering over the bed with a cup of warm tea. He wasn't thirsty, but he accepted the drink, warming his hands on the smooth ceramic surface. He knew it was laced with every kind of painkiller and sleep-aid that Katara could get her hands on, and he drank it gratefully. The dull throbbing of his chest was already starting to sharpen.
"How long was I asleep for?" Aang asked weakly, taking a cautious sip. The tea was horribly bitter, sending a shiver of disgust down his spine.
"A good while." Katara sat down on the edge of the bed. "The rest of the night and all morning." She pressed a hand on his shoulder as he tried to sit up. "Relax."
"It's tomorrow then." Aang drank the rest of the tea. "What happened?" He didn't feel stronger after the sleep, but he felt more lucid and coherent. "Is everyone all right?"
"We're all fine." Katara spread her hands out on her lap, staring down at her fingers. She needed more sea-weed lotion, her knuckles were drying out. "I was broken out of the cell and we managed to get everyone and get out, but Azula held the castle. The city is probably invaded by now." Katara's words came out in a tumbled rush. There wasn't anything more that needed to be said, really. As far as she was concerned, the story was told. There was no need to elaborate on the 'we'. Aang didn't see things that way, of course.
"Who broke you out?" He tried to pull himself up a little farther. "Was it Sokka and Toph?" Katara shook her head slowly, looking down at her hands. "Who then?"
"... It was Zuko." Katara's hands were balled into fists. Aang stilled.
"How?" Aang was shocked, angry, and most of all, jealous. He couldn't stand the idea of Zuko stepping up when he, Aang, had failed. Of him sweeping in and saving Katara. Was that selfish? Of course it was. Why couldn't he just be relieved that Katara was okay? Why did he have to feel like this? Aang blinked rapidly, his vision starting to swim. The drugs in his tea were starting to take effect, quickly.
"He was looking for someone else." Katara murmured. "Dumb luck, I guess. Or fate." Aang groaned, his eyes closing. There was no such thing as luck. Damn. If the Spirits had to intervene, why did they choose Zuko? Why not someone, anyone else? It was all a matter of human will. Roku himself had said it was the only thing the Spirits could not directly control. They could move the mountains and drain the oceans, could part the skies and bring whole cities to rubble, but the human heart held a clandestine inviolability. They could not touch it. Aang wasn't quite sure what to think. He would never dare to guess – or question – their motives. But he was still confused. Why?
"What happened to him?" Aang said weakly. Kara sighed deeply, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
"We fought." She stared at the wall. "Physically." Aang made a small noise. "I'm okay," She added quickly, "But we knew we couldn't trust him then. He can't control himself, he's just not safe." Katara bit her lip. "But at the same time, he declares he's on our side. And I think he's trying to be. He's resolved to fight Ozai."
"But you don't trust him?" Aang was tense. Katara shook her head.
"No. Never." Aang visibly sagged in relief. "Not after that. He can try and say he's good until he's blue in the face but I don't think he'll ever be one of us." She looked over at Aang, whose eyes had widened. "What?"
"Just thinking..." He slumped against the pillow, closing his eyes. "So he's resolved then?"
"Until he slips." Katara pulled the blankets up to Aang's chin. He was sinking into a deep, drugged sleep. Aang sighed softly. "Get some sleep."
"Mmkay." Aang mumbled, turning over a little. Katara crawled up to the head of the bed, leaning against the wall. She left one hand on the side of his face, gently stroking his cheek, listening to his slowly lengthening breaths.
Until he slips. It sounded so dismissive, so judgemental and cruel. Katara rested her head in her hands, sighing. She felt tired and cold. The metal room seemed like a tomb to her, gently rocking on the waves. After what felt a long time, Katara pulled off her shoes and left them askew on the floor. She crawled into the spare half of the bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin and staring at the ceiling. Katara closed her eyes. She didn't want to sleep – she just wanted to curl up under the sheets like a child and hide from the world. The little room was lonely, and aside from Aang's strained breathing, utterly silent. She turned on to her side, facing Aang quietly. He looked almost peaceful under the sheets. One hand slid through the covers, finding his. She squeezed his fingers tightly, rubbing quickly at her eyes with the other.
"I won't let this happen again." Katara promised in the dimly-lit room. Her voice trembled. "I swear Aang, I'll protect you with my life. Nothing will ever stop me." She didn't realise it was the bond between the pair that almost destroyed him. Aang would never tell her. Just as she would never tell him about how she lost her necklace. Katara shifted a little closer to the sleeping youth, resting her head on his pillow. She could feel his warmth, and smell his toxic, herb-laden breath. Katara tightened her grip on Aang's hand, weaving their fingers together. He seemed much older in the bad light. Already, his hair had grown, although it was short and bristly. She smiled a little as she watched him sleep. Something pulled deep within her, an inner tide, circling in her stomach. She tried to ignore the sensation, instead resting her head on his shoulder. Katara told herself it was so she could hear his heartbeat.
It was funny, how the possibility of loss can shock the senses into realisation. Two weeks ago, Katara would have said Aang was her best friend, that she would do her best to stand by him. That she loved him like a brother. But as she lay beside him, with his heartbeat resonating in her ears, she realised already, that things weren't the same. Something had changed.
But she didn't quite know what.
Zuko and Jin didn't notice the rumbling as they walked down the street.
She'd come over again as he'd finished work, wanting to walk him home. He didn't understand quite why she wanted to shadow him like this, but he accepted it gratefully. It seemed comforting. He'd spent the rest of his shift mechanically laying tiles, replaying the ugly scene in his head, over and over again. He'd lost control, fallen into one of his familiar fits of rage, and he'd hurt her. He wanted to go back immediately, to apologise and beg for her forgiveness. But at the same time, he was overcome with a resentment and revulsion. While his mother couldn't understand how her son had changed so much, Zuko struggled to reconcile the image of his mother who held him and chased away his fears with the tearful woman on the floor. It seemed completely foreign.
"Let's have a drink before home." Jin stopped in the street, gently tugging Zuko into a little hole-in-the wall tea-shop. She guessed rightly that he didn't want to go home yet, to remain a quiet fixture in the corner amongst the bright chatter of her brothers, retiring early for a restless, fitful sleep. "Sit down and I'll get us something. No Jasmine." Zuko nodded silently, sinking into the closest chair he could find, staring down at his hands. He felt disgusted not only with his mother, but also with himself. How could he shout at her like that? How could he blame her for something beyond her control?
But was it really? Zuko was forced to consider things, again. And, once more, he wondered what may have happened if Ursa had taken him with him. He would have grown up here, from a child. He would have long-standing friends and relationships. He would have been utterly assimilated into their culture. Prince Zuko would be well and truly dead.
It sounded perfect. Zuko leaned back, closing his eyes. Imagine. He wouldn't have suffered. He would be poor, and nameless, but he would be whole, physically and emotionally. He wouldn't have a constant, painful reminder of his own failure. Small children wouldn't shy away from him in the street. Strangers wouldn't double-take and young men and women wouldn't whisper behind their hands, with darting glances.
His heart ached.
He put his head on the table, arms folded. He honestly wanted to cry. It wasn't damn fair. He wasn't Prince Zuko, and he wasn't Lee either. He was stuck in limbo, in an identity crisis and he wasn't sure which one he wanted to be.
That was a lie. He knew who he wanted to be, but it wasn't who he could be.
His mother sacrificed everything she had for him, her lifestyle, her marriage, her children, and he'd thrown it in her face. What did she murder for? Zuko tried to imagine the world without him. If Azulon was alive and Iroh next in line. He couldn't remember much of his grandfather. Surely, he wasn't as bad as Ozai?
Don't be an idiot. He ordered his own son to kill you. He would have been worse. Zuko let out a low moan. His head hurt. He honestly didn't know if he could really distinguish the lesser of two evils. He knew though, that he wasn't one of them.
Was that why he failed as Prince Zuko?
"Watch out." Zuko's head snapped up. Jin held the tray herself, setting it down and pouring him a steaming cup of lychee tea.
"Drink some." She begged, pushing a cup towards him. "You'll feel better, I promise."
"I can't." Zuko folded his arms. "I just... I can't stop thinking about it all. How could I shout like that? She's my mother. We're not meant to fight. I would have hurt her so much..."
"You're kidding, right?" Jin set down her teacup. "I fight with Ma all the time. Lee, you're not a kid anymore. You have different ideas. Even if she had never left, you'd still argue with her. It's what teenagers do. All of them."
"You don't understand, she's different." Zuko said quietly. "I don't know why, but I was everything to her. I was her world."
"'Course you were, you were her first. And a boy." Jin tried to be practical. "Ma feels the same way about Meng. She's got four other kids, but the way she used to go on about him, you wouldn't know it. He was the smartest, the bravest, the strongest, the most polite. It's why she fell apart after he left." She held his hand on the table. "Don't think too much about what could have been, Lee. You'll drive yourself crazy. She's not going to hate you for this. Tomorrow, we'll go back and talk to her. Everything will be fine." Zuko forced a tiny, fake smile, but before he could utter a word, the pair were rudely jerked into awareness by a shout.
"The wall!" Jin and Zuko started, turning towards the doorway. A small child jumped up and down, screaming excitedly. "The wall came down!"
Their eyes met across the table. Ursa was instantly forgotten. Hand-in-hand, Jin and Zuko pushed their way out the door and into the street, craning their necks and trying to see.
"I can't see a thing." Jin jumped up and down, trying to catch a glimpse. The street was quickly becoming very crowded. "Can you give me a boost?"
"I can do better." Zuko eyed the front of the tea house. There was a stack of crates and a splintered broom handle against the wall. Enough for him. Zuko climbed the crates and used the handle to hoist himself up to the roof of the building, stretching out his arm to offer Jin a boost. But she climbed up herself, with an easy strength and agility from a lifetime of scaling walls and jumping across roofs. "You all right?"
"Fine." Jin balanced herself easily on the slanted roof, looking in the direction of the Wall. Sure enough, there was a wide gap where the gates used to be. They weren't just open, they were gone. Jin instinctively gripped Zuko's hand, shrinking into him. He wrapped an arm around her side, dread gathering in the pit of his stomach. "It's happening, isn't it."
"Looks like it." They were both high up enough to see the tanks. They looked like metallic black beetles at the distance, beetles that rumbled and belched clouds of black smoke. Jin didn't like to look at them. Zuko closed his eyes.
"We should get out of here." He said quietly. Jin gulped. "I'll take you home."
"No, we'll go home." Jin said firmly. "What are you going to do, stand in the street and refuse to let them pass?"
"No." Zuko was watching the procession silently, the horror growing. How big was the army?
"You're staying at our house, where it's safe." Jin was resolute. "I'm not having you be some sort of hero."
"All right." Zuko wasn't going to argue – he felt oddly hollow. "Come on, let's go before they come." He turned to go back the way he came, but Jin was scanning the rooftops, thinking.
"This way." She faced another direction. "This street of houses are all terraced, it'll be faster than the packed street." Zuko followed obediently, trusting her. If there was anything Jin knew better than him, it was how to negotiate the streets of Ba Sing Se. She led him across the roofs, across a short alleyway jump, along a precariously thin boardwalk, down three narrow side-streets that were largely silent, and into a familiar main street that was considerably fuller than usual. People were muttering amongst themselves, craning their necks in an attempt to see what was going on. They refused to believe the rumours. Not until they saw them with their own eyes. Jin and Zuko pushed and elbowed their way through until finally, they were ascending the brittle, narrow staircase. Jin's heart thudded as she pushed open the door. Her mother was bent over a torn shirt, alone in the room.
"Where is everyone?" Jin's voice rose in alarm. Shan looked up, startled. "Where Dad? And Jiro and Meng and Hai and Chang? Where are they all?"
"Where do you think?" Shan set her needlework aside. "Work, mostly. Meng went to see his friends and Chang is playing with some of his cousins. Jin, what's wrong? You look terrible." Jin's knees felt weak. "Jin?"
"Oh Ma." Jin was near tears. Zuko quietly made his way into the bedroom. His Dao swords hung over the bedpost, freshly cleaned and polished. He shouldn't have left them at home in the first place. He pressed his thumb against the blade, checking their sharpness, and slung them at his waist. When he came back into the front room, Jin was pacing back and forth with her fingers in her hair, swearing.
"Your father and elder brothers will be fine." Zuko kept his voice calm. "But I'll get the kids. Hai will still be at work or on his way home. Shan, where do you think Chang will be?"
"Probably at the Fountain, he loves playing in water on days like this." Shan's hands were trembling. "Jin just told me... Is it true?"
"I'm going with you." Jin grabbed Zuko's wrist. "I-I can't just sit here Lee, what if they-"
"You're not going anywhere." Zuko gently eased himself free. "Stay inside. They shouldn't touch you, but if they're rounding people up, then go through your room and hide on the rooftops." Jin was shaking her head in protest. "Yes Jin. Look, I'll be faster by myself. I'm not going to run into any trouble. I'll just find them and come back here." Jin's hold on Zuko's wrist didn't slacken. She refused to let him go on his own.
But at the same time, she was scared. The thought of going near those lines and lines of soldiers with their tanks and machines left her cold and sick. Jin was consumed with a paralytic fear at the thought of it. She knew, in her heart, that she couldn't do it. If she ran in to them, she would freeze up. Since her encounter with Azula, Jin had been badly rattled. She had learned the uncomfortable truth that, when it came down to the wire, she wasn't as brave as she thought she was. Not in front of the Fire Nation. She didn't want to fight. She just wanted to keep her head down and remain quiet.
So she backed down. Her fingers fell lax at her side, and with pursed lips, she let him go. Jin stood silently in the middle of the room as Zuko pressed his lips to her cheek for just a moment, and hurriedly pushed his way out of the apartment. She felt deflated and weak, sinking into the stoveside chair with a long sigh.
Zuko didn't feel all much better. He tried to keep himself as emotionless and sterile as he could as he pushed his way through the streets, but his heart was pounding. It had finally come down to this. He had been mentally preparing himself for this, for weeks. But it was hard. It didn't really hit him, just how big it all was, until he saw them pouring in through the broken gates like ants. He realised, as he caught the terrified faces of the people around him, just how unprepared the city was. They had never faced the War before, save for the refugees. They had no idea just what would happen. They couldn't even comprehend the atrocities that the Fire Nation was capable of. Even the refugees hadn't seen the worst possibility. They had been spared the systematic domination and destruction in the small villages and towns. Zuko had said that Ba Sing Se would remain intact, that there was no economic reason to destroy a city so large and profitable. But in his mind, he knew that it was false, hollow reasoning. When had the Fire Nation put economic need first? If Ozai, or whatever puppet he put on the Earth King's throne, saw fit to burn the city to the ground, he would do it, without thought.
Zuko thought briefly about leaving. Surely, there would have to be a small coastal town, somewhere, where the shadow of the Fire Nation hadn't tainted the ground. Some forgotten little mountain hamlet filled with hapless innocents who hadn't even heard of a War.
If there was, Zuko realised, its days were numbered. There wasn't any more running, or hiding, that he could do. The net was closing. The oases of peace and serenity were drying up. Zuko had to try and maintain a safety in anonymity, by remaining one of the herd. Surely, if he kept himself out of the worst of it, they wouldn't touch them. There were over a million people in the city, and the Fire Nation couldn't slaughter them all.
But it wasn't just him.
Zuko stood in the square of the Firelight Fountain silently, his stomach contorted and tense. He was watching the small knot of children pushing each other over in the water, splashing and shouting and laughing. He caught Chang, smaller and thinner than the rest, but screaming the loudest. So fragile. His bones seemed as brittle as glass. What would it take to kill such a small child? Nothing. The flick of a wrist. His neck could be broken with one hand. Was Zuko really that tiny and flimsy once? It seemed so impossible.
"Chang!" Zuko raised his voice, approaching the splashing children. How could they not be freezing? The sun was dying on the horizon, no longer casting light on the water. "Chang, get your clothes on, we're going." Loud whining and groans of disapproval met his ears. There were five other children, three boys and two girls. All stripped to their underclothes and soaking wet, as fragile and insignificant as saplings. None of them would ever stand a chance. Chang pulled himself out of the water, grumbling. He had no idea what was happening, just a few blocks away. Nobody did.
He couldn't leave them. Zuko watched them all play with a rising horror; their naivety and frailty would kill them. He had to escort them home to the safety of their mothers' arms. Even if it was a deceptive, false safety, it was better than being naked and exposed.
"All right, all of you!" Zuko rose his voice to a shout. "Everyone get out, you're all going home, now!"
"Aw, what? No fair! You can't do that!" He took the verbal assaults silently. Chang stood quietly on the cobblestones with his shirt in his hands.
"Come on!" Zuko approached the fountain, grabbing the arm of the first child within reach. "Quickly!" The children grumbled, but they were obedient. Most had no idea who the stranger was, but they respected their elders without question and Chang at least knew him. Grudgingly, the five children dragged themselves out of the water, peeling their clothes on over dripping skin; spare towels were a luxury little could afford.
"What's going on?" Chang's peaky little face turn up towards Zuko. "Where's Mama?"
"She's at home." Zuko took Chang's hand. "Everyone will be at home when we get back. There's some things going on at the moment, it's not safe outside, so I'm going to take everyone home."
"What's going on?" Chang inquired. There was a certain firmness in his tone, and Zuko knew he wasn't going to be able to fob him off with any lies. What was the point in lying? They would all see, soon enough.
"There's some Fire Nation soldiers on the streets." Zuko spoke quietly. He didn't want to explain these things to a child, but there was no way that he could keep silent. It was impossible to protect Chang from something that he would have to face, and so soon. "So we have to go home where they can't come in."
"What?" One of the other children pulled at Zuko's sleeve. "Did you say Fire Nation?"
"... I did." Zuko kept his voice low and even. There was a shout, a hubbub of discontent amongst the children. One of them began to cry. "Look, everyone needs to stay calm. I want all of you to hold hands." He took the hand of Chang and the crying girl. "I promise, nothing is going to happen to you. Now, who lives the closest to here?"
"Li Mei does." Chang spoke up. "That way."
"All right." Zuko walked as quickly as he could out of the square, with the little tribe of small children firmly in tow. As he predicted, the mothers were overjoyed to see their little angels protected and safe. The first woman had no idea what had happened, and it was only after Zuko hurriedly explained the invasion when she wrung her hands, worrying tearfully about her three other children. Zuko couldn't help her any more though, and he regretfully left her with her youngest daughter, keeping to the side streets and the lengthening shadows. The second mother took two of the boys, embracing Zuko for an embarrassing moment and inviting him in for safety as it was getting dark. Zuko declined, saying he had to get back.
He should have taken the offer.
The third mother was in fact a father, who shook Zuko's hand firmly, saying his niece had made a fine choice and he was a fine figure of a young man and his nephews could learn a thing or two from him. The fourth mother tearfully said Zuko was a blessed young man as she held her crying daughter, offering a hot meal and her home as shelter. He declined again. Zuko was finally left with Chang almost half a mile from home, and a beckoning twilight – and no idea of where he was.
That was a lie. He knew his whereabouts – but only on the main roads. He couldn't venture into the side-streets and back alleys here, not without walking into a blind alley or getting cornered by a gang of thugs. He had no option but to hoist Chang in his arms and walk smack bang into the main street – and the martial procession.
Chang was very, very quiet in his arms. Zuko could feel his little limbs trembling, and he murmured a soft word of comfort in his ear before he slowly made his way along the street. It was the tail-end of the convoy that made their way past Zuko, who remained one of the only people on the street. As soon as they could, the people of Ba Sing Se fled indoors, shutting themselves away from the invasion and the grey light. The soldiers marched four abreast, backs straight and faces outward. Zuko kept his eyes fixated on the ground, heart thudding in his chest. He positioned his hair carefully, covering as much of his scar as he could, but he was still scared. It would be the worst thing imaginable; to be recognised now, and turned over to Azula after affirming his status as a full-blown traitor, would seal his fate. He had fought so hard to gain this ragged little scrap of freedom, and he would die before he let it go.
That could still happen.
Zuko's blood pulsed in his temples, a sick nausea rising in his stomach. The street, although a main walkway, wasn't wide, and Zuko crept as close to the wall as he could, but he was still far too close to the soldiers for his own comfort. He could feel their body heat (they must have been fire benders), and heard their breaths under the monotonous stamp of hundreds of boots striking the cobblestones in unison. Zuko closed his eyes for a moment, taking a long, deep breath, trying to quell the nerves in his stomach. It was a mistake. He walked into one of the soldiers in his moment of blindness – not head-on, but he cuffed him on the shoulder. It was enough for the soldier to stop short in his walk, and round on him.
"I'm sorry!" Zuko held Chang tightly, backed against the wall. "I wasn't looking, I'm so sorry-"
"You watch where you're going." The soldier wore one an iron mask over his face, concealing his features. He leaned in closer, and his hands crackled with fire, in an attempt to be menacing. Zuko's face was very close to the flames, the golden light illuminating his face. The surrounding men in earshot stopped short in their march at the sign of trouble. The soldier regarding Zuko let out a sharp gasp of recognition, taking a step back. Zuko's heart dropped like a stone.
"Pri-" He never got to finish the word. It was a subconscious reflect, a quick mental burst, which drove Zuko to draw one of the swords at his waist, and in the same stroke, drive the blade across the man's unarmoured neck. Blood spurted along Zuko's arm, splattering black against his clothes. The helmet clinked against the ground as it fell, rolling into Zuko's feet. Chang screamed, watching as the decapitated body balanced for a half-moment, as though suspended, and pitched forward slowly. Zuko didn't wait to see the corpse fall to the ground. He tore off, ducking down the first street he could find. He heard shouting behind him, the sound of running. Cut him off! Use your spears! Get that filth! With his sword drawn before him, Zuko made his way through the narrow, winding maze, getting more and more lost. But he was faster than the soldiers, weighed down by their heavy, ceremonial iron, and he had more skill in negotiating the seemingly endless maze of Ba Sing Se, even if he had no idea where he was. But he knew he could never outrun them, not in the end. Eventually, he would run into a dead end or another procession, and he would be trapped. He wasn't going to let himself be cornered. It wasn't the time for a last stand. So, the moment Zuko was sure that he was out of their immediate line of sight, he flung himself into an extremely narrow lane, one backed by a long row of ugly terraced houses that stank of rotting food. Zuko sheathed his sword, pressing his bloodstained hand against Chang's mouth, to muffle his cries, crouching amongst the stink and refuse. He watched the soldiers, lit by their lanterns and fire in the night, making their way past with that same mechanical tread, doing his best to keep the child in his arms quiet. Zuko turned his face away, terrified he would catch their gaze, but they all rushed past without a second glance into the stinking blackness. Zuko crouched in the darkness, restraining the crying child, until the silence sank around them. His heart still thudded madly in his chest, and it was a long time before Zuko trusted himself to rise to his feet.
He didn't turn back – he wasn't going to try and retrace his steps – but faced into the darkness, eyes slowly adjusting. A weak, silvery glow of moonlight was enough for Zuko to slowly pick his way along the narrow path. He looked up at the dilapidated houses, checking for thin cracks of candlelight between the shuttered windows, trying to find a house swathed entirely in darkness. He must have been in a terrible part of town, to run into a stinking hole like this. Chang was still crying, and Zuko tried to summon some words of comfort, tried to think of something he could say that would console him, but failed. He was at a loss, utterly. Eventually, Zuko arched his neck up at a house he was almost sure was abandoned. Either that, or the occupants were already asleep in the upper floors – in which case, they wouldn't even notice the pair crouching in their back room for a few hours.
Zuko's hand fiddled with the latch, and the door gave way. He almost cried with relief as he slid the door open, squeezing through the small gap into the darkness. Chang shivered against his torso, sniffling quietly. Zuko trailed a hand along the wall as he tried to get some sort of bearing. It was absolutely pitch black, and chillingly silent. There was a stuffy emptiness which indicated there was no one else in the room – thank Agni. Zuko found a corner, and sank to the floor. He took off his long sleeveless robe, doing his best to wrap it around the small child in his arms.
"Are you all right?" Zuko whispered in the blackness. Chang sniffed, and Zuko felt him nod in the darkness. He'd stopped crying out loud, but Zuko could feel him quiver with little repressed sobs, mouth and nose covered in the fabric. He cursed both his own stupidity. Zuko had done his best, but there was no shelter, no comfort he could provide to a young child who watched a man die before his eyes. "We'll be all right in here. They're not going to come inside." He could hear two men talking in the distance, their words odd and garbled, out of distinct earshot. Most likely soldiers. No civilian would be stupid enough to wander about in the dark. Enough examples would have been made. He felt so awkward, trying to console the tiny child in his arms. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? Was there anything that could comfort Chang at this point? Zuko waited for a long time, rubbing wide circles into Chang's back, but his breathing still came out in sniffles and gasps. "Try and get some sleep." Zuko instructed quietly, leaning back so the little boy would be more comfortable.
"I can't." Chang's voice was high and plaintive in the dark. "I'm scared." Something tugged at Zuko, down in his very soul. "I'm hungry."
"Yeah, I missed dinner too." Zuko breathed in Chang's ear. "I'm sorry, I don't have any food. Just close your eyes and try to sleep." It was futile. He could feel the boys' little heart thudding against his chest. "I promise, things will be okay. Nothing is going to hurt you here." Chang sniffed. He didn't seem convinced. "What will help you feel better?"
"... Tell me a story." He eventually murmured. Zuko's eyes were slowly adjusting to the utter blackness, and he thought he saw a little white smudge looking up at him.
"A story?" Zuko looked up at the ceiling, blowing at his bangs. "All right... I don't know many stories." He thought for a while. None appropriate for children. While his mother often murmured fairy tales in his ear as he drifted off to sleep, his father scorned the stories, and recounted to his son gruesome battles and military campaigns and historical bloodbaths. Stories fit for a prince. Zuko tried to remember the silly little tales his mother had told him, but they had drifted away like ashes on the wind, leaving barely a soft whisper. The thought of her sent a fresh burning surge of guilt through his chest, but he shook his head, trying to push her away. He couldn't think on that at the moment. He had to be on his toes. Zuko began on an impulse, telling the child the story he knew best.
"Once, there was an evil king in an evil country-"
"Was it the Fire Nation?" Chang cut in curiously, taking his thumb out of his mouth to inquire. Zuko paused.
"No, it wasn't. This isn't in our time or world. Listen. This evil king saw all the riches of the other kings held and wanted it for himself. But the other kings had a warrior who protected them and their people. The evil king knew that as long as the warrior was alive, he would never be able to conquer the world and build his empire. So he sent his only son after the warrior, when he was just a boy. He said that if his son didn't kill the warrior, he would never let him be king and he would be banished forever." Chang was listening quietly. He didn't hear many tales about kings and princes –especially evil ones - and it interested him. "So his son the prince went forth and he searched all throughout the land, for three long years, trying to find the warrior, but the warrior kept himself hidden, and he always managed to escape. And the prince was very angry, and he burned down every village and town he met, to punish the people for hiding the warrior." Zuko's face flushed with shame in remembrance.
"The prince kept following him all throughout the land, fighting monsters and crossing an ocean, and finally, the warrior and prince met in battle. They fought two long days and nights, but the warriors had many friends who were able to support him. The prince didn't have any friends, you see. He was all alone. So the prince was defeated, but left alive. His father, the king, was very angry. He declared his son a traitor and put a price on his head. Any man that turned him in would receive riches beyond his wildest dreams. The prince was very sad, because he still wanted to defeat the warrior and prove himself to his father, but he had no choice but to go in hiding, and disguise himself as a peasant from one of the good kingdoms. He kept following the warrior, but he was unable to capture or defeat him. Eventually, the prince entered a huge city, the largest in the world. He looked around and saw a people that were untouched by the war had torn his own nation apart. The prince also fell in love. Not with a princess, but with a peasant girl, who was as graceful as the moon and had beautiful eyes that shone like the stars." His imagery was clumsy, but it got the point across. "The prince realised that his father was an evil man, and declared that he would never fight in his name again. His quest had ended, and he spent the rest of his life with the peasant girl in the city, and they both lived in happiness until the end of their days." Zuko let out a long breath as he finished his rather hurried story, screwing up his face. Chang was silent in his arms, and Zuko thought that he had fallen asleep. A few moments later, however, his cautious little voice piped up.
"Is that it?" Chang sounded confused.
"Huh? Yes, that's it." Zuko said quietly. "He realised that his people were evil and he didn't want to be one of them anymore."
"That's not a very good story." Chang sounded a little indignant. Zuko looked down at the small bundle of cloth.
"Why not?" Zuko didn't mean to sound so defensive, but it had touched a nerve. What was wrong with that story? What was wrong with him staying in Ba Sing Se, with Jin?
"What happened to the warrior? Was he ever defeated?" Chang sat up a little. "And if he was the only son, who was the next king? Why didn't he come back and turn the evil nation into good?"
Zuko was honestly dumbstruck. He sat in silence for a few moments, trying to think things over. How was a four-year-old able to comprehend so much? He didn't realise that Chang had heard his own fair share of bedtime stories, none of which ended in a prince assuming a life of poverty. The prince always got the throne, in the end, and the little boy didn't understand why he didn't in this story.
"It's... Not that easy." Zuko murmured. "Not everyone can be good, in the end. Some people are just... beyond saving." Like his father. "There's good and bad inside everyone. Usually the good wins, but sometimes, it's the bad."
"Oh." Chang lapsed into silence. Zuko closed his eyes, thinking the child was drifting into sleep. "Were you ever bad?" Zuko started a little, surprised. He peered down through the darkness.
"Everyone has done some bad things, Chang." Zuko said quietly. "I've heard your mother yell at you before. Try not to think about it. See if you can get some sleep. Nothing is going to come for you in here."
"I-I'm not sle-sleepy." That was a lie – the statement was punctuated by a long yawn. It must have been very late. Zuko had lost track of time, between the weaving his way through the streets and crouching endlessly in the darkness. Chang gave a long sigh of defeat, pulling the cloth up around his ears and laying his head down. "'Kay." He sniffed. "Promise nothing will come?"
"I promise." Zuko breathed into the child's ear. He couldn't spare an ounce of conviction. He remained still against the wall, arms around the warm little bundle on his lap. Zuko waited the soft breathing grew long and slow, before he hoisted the child in his arms and stood up, struggling to keep himself as steady as possible. The night air blew in his face, chilly and oddly smoky, as he stepped into the side alley. He grew immediately cautious and tense, as wound up and tight as a coiled spring. Every breath of air, every soft snap of a twig or scrape of a loose stone, crashed and roared in his ears as he stole along through the darkness.
By the time Zuko actually made it home, the light was heavy and grey. Dawn must have been an hour off, and the streets were entirely deserted. Zuko wandered about lost, until he found a black stain of blood on the ground, which he was sure was the blood he had spilled. He tried to retrace his steps, clinging to the shadows, watching out for any glimmer of light in the darkness, keeping his ears keenly tuned to any sound of movement. Normally, it would have been madness to wander about in utter darkness, especially in such an area of town, but the arrival of the soldiers had driven even the most merciless street mugger into his dark little enclave. Their rusty swords were no match for the well-oiled machines and razor-sharp steel of the Fire Nation. Zuko wondered how many men had been killed in that night. There was no way the people of Ba Sing Se escaped total bloodshed.
Zuko paused outside the tall, narrow house that housed Jin's family. There was a tiny sliver of light underneath the shutter, and the barest wisp of smoke from the chimney. So the fire was still going. He would have to tell them later not to keep the stove on after dark, if they wanted to emit the pretence of sleep.
They would have to. There would be a curfew, a sanction on public gatherings. Zuko remembered the political meetings he had attended with Jin and her brother. Their ideas on government, the lively discussion on how they could 'fix' Ba Sing Se and make it fair and equal – that would all be stamped out, and any future meetings would have to be in secret, under the cover of darkness, or exchanged in coded messages. There would be no more going out at night, no more parties, no more drinking. The few liberties the people of Ba Sing Se had enjoyed in their week of freedom would be snuffed out.
But they had experienced it. Zuko opened the front door quietly, groping for the banister. That would have been enough. They knew what it was like, to be truly free.
Maybe they wouldn't accept this new invasion with the same apathy and ignorance. Maybe they would fight for their freedoms, even to the death.
Zuko could only hope that there would be people to stand with him in defiance of the Fire Nation.
Woot, giant long scene :)
I'm actually super keen for the next chapter (shit goes DOWN) so I promise you it won't take long.