Zuko blinked hard, equal parts confused and relieved that the fire he had called to his fingertips hadn't responded. A thousand questions danced on the tip of his tongue, tears welling in his eyes. Why can't I bend? Where the hell am I? Why are you here?
None of them made it past his lips, however. The only thing he managed to croak out was a desperate, mystified, "Lu Ten?"
His cousin's smile was as warm as he remembered. His face was as young and open the last time they had spoken, though his unwavering stance conveyed great strength. This was a man who was as untouched by the passage of time as he had been by the horrors of war, his royal gold eyes brimming with joy. "Zuko!"
He held out his arms, and Zuko didn't think before propelling himself forward into them, gripping Lu Ten's shoulders and unheedingly burying his face. Lu Ten laughed, and Zuko shuddered to feel the vibrations against his cheek. He closed his eyes, not wanting to question anything, only knowing that in this moment his cousin felt alive….
"Enough of that, now," Lu Ten said, his voice gentle and endearing. He pushed Zuko away to arm's length, his hands not releasing the younger man's shoulders. Zuko reluctantly opened his eyes and drank in the sight of him, struggling to pose any of the questions he needed to ask. Lu Ten smirked. "I see you're still thoughtless in your love," he said, with an air of affection that took some of the bite out of the remark. Still, it stung enough to make Zuko straighten, the haze of his thoughts effectively cleared, and find his voice.
"Hardly," he managed to say. Pull yourself together. This could be a trick. He stepped out of his cousin's reach, and with each word his voice grew stronger. "I am happy to see you, but we are no longer in the Spirit Oasis, and as far as the Fire Nation is concerned, you're a dead man." Zuko cast his gaze around him, seeing eerily balanced stone pillars through the flat grey light and drifting, somehow moistureless fog. He looked down, surprised to note that they were standing on an unnaturally still surface of muddy water. "I take it we are in the Spirit World," he said, not quite a question. He raised his eyes again.
Lu Ten was smiling faintly, eyes on fire. "Yes," he answered simply. "I knew you would come around eventually. I assume you were forced here by some dire circumstance or another." Suddenly, his gaze hardened, and he stepped forward to grip Zuko's hand in a vice-like grip. "Your body, it's- you didn't die, did you?"
"No?" Zuko pulled away again, uneasiness beginning to gnaw at the back of his mind at the thought of touching… whatever it was, that looked so like Lu Ten. He thought of the watertribe girls, and what they would do if his position was revealed; he cocked his head, almost nervous. "I don't think so, that is."
The look of relief on Lu Ten's face was so plain that it almost erased Zuko's doubts, but he took another step back to be safe. "Who are you?" he bit out, fighting to make his voice as flat as possible. Lu Ten—or whatever appeared to be him—looked faintly offended.
"Surely you recognize me, cousin?" he murmured, with such sincere pain that Zuko glared viciously.
"Of course I do, and you know it," he snapped. "Trust me, the list of people I would willingly hug is remarkably short." He couldn't help a blush at the word hug, which felt too warm and soft on his lips. In compensation he slipped one foot back into a defensive stance and hardened his voice. "That doesn't mean I put much stock in appearances, especially considering we are standing on water and those stone goliaths are floating." He gestured vaguely with one hand, and Lu Ten's gaze followed the motion.
"So they are," he noted, the smile touching his words, but when he turned back to Zuko it was gone, replaced by a shadowy sadness. "I am glad that you reserve your trust in such situations, Zuko. I don't deserve it. But there is little I could do to reassure you that I am your cousin; no matter what you believe I am, you can either decide that I mean you no harm and listen to me, or decide that I am dangerous and leave." Lu Ten crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels, a movement so painfully recognizable as his that Zuko subconsciously stood up straight again. A smirk flickered across his cousin's face. "Although the second option might be somewhat difficult, as I doubt you even know how you arrived here."
Zuko bit back a fiery retort that he knew perfectly well he had been brought here through meditation, pinching the bridge of his nose instead. "In that case, it seems I don't have much of a choice," he commented stiffly.
Lu Ten chuckled. "You always were quick on the pick-up!" He looked Zuko up and down, the trace of unhappy longing still lingering in his gaze. "Besides," he added, more softly, "the cousin I know would never leave so soon. You have questions that you wish to address to the spirits; whether or not you receive a truthful answer, it is more than you would gain by silence."
Zuko felt his fear drain away, leaving him only with a wary curiosity. He lowered his hand and, glancing at it, remembered the first thing he needed to know.
"Why is my bending blocked?" He tried again to gather some flames in his palm, but to no avail. He took a breath to steady the anxiety his failure caused in him, turning to Lu Ten for answers, knowing and hating that his expression conveyed his uncertainty.
Lu Ten's smile was reassuring, but only hollowly. "You're in the Spirit World," his cousin stated, as though that were answer enough. "There is no bending here."
Zuko grunted in annoyance and dropped his hand, glad that he at least had his dao swords strapped across his back. "Fine," he snapped. It wasn't as if refusing to accept the facts would change them. He pulled himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders. He was surprised to note that he was less than an inch shorter than his cousin, who towered above him in his memories. Pushing down his nostalgia, he bit out, "I want those answers now."
Lu Ten regarded him with a warm look, edged with what Zuko hated to think was pity. "Do you have your questions?"
"Of course I do!" Zuko whirled around to pace, feeling anger tight in his chest. After all this time, how dare you look down on me? "I need to know-"
He cut off suddenly, biting his lip. He had almost said what's wrong with me, but it didn't seem like the thing his cousin would have let him say without a disgustingly sentimental argument, and he wasn't willing to reveal the extent of his weakness to something he couldn't trust. He searched for something to fill the void in his sentence but couldn't put any into words. Will I ever have a place in the Fire Nation again? Does my father love me? Should I deliver the Avatar to him? Do I take the Avatar now? Do I kill him? Do I attack the Water Tribe with Zhao? How do I know things? Why does Zhao pull on me like a magnet? Why does the world hate me? What should I do?
Zuko almost laughed at himself, feeling the familiar sensation of ashamed self-loathing tightening like a knot around his stomach. As if I can ask any of those. It's too late anyway—my silence has been answer enough. Stifling a sigh, he turned back to Lu Ten, not quite able to meet his gaze.
His cousin stared back for a long moment, the quiet stretching between them, and then turned around, gesturing for Zuko to follow. "I think I know who can help you," he said quietly.
"I don't need help," Zuko couldn't help but spit, though he trailed after his cousin obediently, only hesitating for a moment. Their footsteps were utterly silent, sending out small ripples in every direction.
"Yes," Lu Ten murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, "you do."
Zuko's hands curled into fists at his sides, but he didn't argue further.
"You, soldier. What are you doing down here?"
Sokka turned, fighting the urge to raise his hands in surrender. He turned around slowly, met face to face with another armored Marine. He had taken off his helmet, holding it tucked under one arm, and Sokka could clearly read the confusion in his pale face. He drew in a breath against the white panic that had flooded his mind. "I have a message for-" he cast back in his mind, searching for the name his mother had supplied- "Commander Zhao." He stayed perfectly still, regarding the other man from behind his mask.
"Why would you not give it to a messenger?" the Marine asked slowly, one eyebrow raised. His lips downturned just enough to make the expression seem more suspicious than bemused. Sokka shrugged and tried to laugh off the awkward atmosphere, his own words floating through his head. Try not to talk too much—your accent is different from theirs. He shifted slightly, getting into a better position to run if he needed to. Pick a vague cover story and run before they can check the details.
"The old man said it was important and to hurry. I didn't think it wise to waste time." He paused, and decided the extra sentences would be worth the risk. He tilted his head, extending one hand in mock congeniality. "What's your name again? In case something dire happens, I'd like to tell him who was responsible for my delay."
The man shook his head with a nervous smile and raised his own hand before walking off, a gesture Sokka interpreted as both surrender and farewell. It was only after he was gone that Sokka cursed himself, realizing that he had wandered about the ship for ten minutes and still had yet to find anything useful. He could have asked for directions, if he had thought that conversation through better. Whatever. The disbelieving bastard forced my hand. Scowling, Sokka moved off in the other direction, trying to look like he knew exactly where he was hurrying.
He strode purposefully through the hallways of the Fire Nation ship, squinting as he recalled the turns he had made to find Aang's glider. At last, he arrived at a door. On Zuko's ship, the Prince's quarters had been behind it. Sokka checked the hallway for witnesses, but it was empty, devoid of voices or footsteps. Leaning sideways, he placed his ear against the door, listening for somebody to be within. He didn't hear anything, but whether that was because there was no one inside or the door was simply too thick he couldn't tell. He hesitated, but finally just knocked on the door. When no one came, he pushed it open slowly, wishing desperately his boomerang wasn't stuck inside this heavy, bulky armor.
It was just a room. Empty save a cot, a footlocker, a chair, a Fire Nation tapestry, and a few portraits on the wall. Sokka's eyes slid over to them, curious, but he backed out before he had time to examine the faces. He closed the door quietly, cheeks burning.
It was obviously not the Commander's quarters, so it was none of his business.
A shrill alarm pierced the air.
Sokka nearly jumped out of his skin as almost every door in the hallway slammed open and half-armored Marines came stumbling out, some cursing, others pulling on their remaining gear as they hurried towards the deck. Sokka breathed through his nose to hide his uneven gasps and slipped in with them, jogging next to someone about his height as they pulled on gauntlets. They're not attacking you. They don't know you're here yet. Don't do anything stupid. If you die out here Katara will raise you from the dead and kill you again. He lengthened his stride, noticing that his impromptu companion had pulled ahead. He was already breathing heavily, unused to the overlarge metal outfit. Still, it wouldn't do to draw attention to himself by flagging. "Do you know what this is about?" he dared to ask once he had caught up, inwardly cursing himself for the fear in his breathless voice.
"I just got out of bed too, dumbass," a female voice grumbled back, taking Sokka off-guard. "We'll know when we get up there."
It was about Hahn, which Sokka might have guessed. A gruff-looking man had him in a chokehold in the crook of one elbow, his other fist cocked at the level of Hahn's eyes. Sokka's breath caught in his throat and he missed a step, nearly falling. A hand reached out and steadied him, and he was surprised to see the woman who had cursed him haul him to his feet.
"Idiot," she hissed, with an easy sort of camaraderie. Sokka's heart stopped, and he closed his eyes against the entire situation. Adrenaline pumping, he was barely conscious of pulling himself together, jogging by her side and copying her as she stopped at attention, in line with the other Marines. He looked at her askance and adjusted his feet slightly. Hahn was still struggling against the older man's hold, his helm discarded some distance away and dark face clear for all to see. He snarled, clawing at the Marine's arm, but his feet barely brushed the ground. Sokka silently applauded his spirit and begged him to hold on. He needed to come up with a plan, something to get them both out of there. There were easily thirty Marines in files around him, and the discoverer looked ready to blast Hahn's face off at any second. Had Ilannaq been found? Sokka was willing to venture that he would have be in the same situation as Hahn were that the case.
"It seems," the Marine called out, snapping Sokka out of his thoughts, "that the water savages have infiltrated our ship."
"We're not the savages," Hahn growled, his voice strained. He continued to thrash, trying unsuccessfully to break free. The Marine gave him a dark look, and small flames burst to life between his knuckles, reflected in Hahn's eyes. The Prince-to-be stilled for a moment, but with a wordless cry started kicking again. Sokka watched in avid horror.
Hold still, he wanted to scream, they hate it when you fight back!
"Just kill him, Jiro," somebody called out from Sokka's left, sounding bored. "You'll have to kill plenty tomorrow, and they won't give you time to hesitate like this."
The flames disappeared, and the older man, Jiro, straightened even further, pinning whoever had spoken with a fiery glare. "Not yet," he replied. He adjusted his grip on Hahn, whose movements were growing weaker, eyes bugging out of his head a little. He leaned closer to his ear. "Is there anybody else?"
Hahn clawed at his arm in response, and Jiro loosened his grip, enough for him to draw in a deep breath, coughing a little. Jiro made a cruel sound in the back of his throat and made flames flicker to life near his face once more. "Answer me!"
"Look at the rest of your fleet," Hahn spat out, sounding somehow victorious. In a sudden whirl of panic, the ranks of Marines whirled. Silence hung suspended in the chilled night air until someone laughed, full of derision. Others soon joined him.
"I'm looking at them, ice rat. What am I supposed to see?" A few chuckles followed his sarcastic remark, but they were all silenced as the distant sound of an alarm rang through the air, quickly followed by another, and another, until the ship itself vibrated with the volume of their combined shriek.
Sokka turned back to look at Hahn, eyes wide, and he wasn't the only one. The Prince-to-be was smirking, finally still. The whites of his eyes seemed to glow under the pre-dawn full moon. "Your doom," he responded, with the same melodramatic arrogance the Sokka had grown to hate. Sokka couldn't help a smile under his helm, a tight, toothy thing. Well done, teams, he thought. Now take advantage of their surprise and get out-
Snap!
Jiro dumped Hahn's lifeless body on the deck, drawing the attention of every Marine. After several seconds, Sokka drew in a ragged breath and tore his eyes away from the unnatural angle of his neck, turning to Jiro instead. The man's expression looked as though he had bitten something bitter, and he scoffed, the flames in his fist disappearing as he lowered it to his side. He nudged the body almost regretfully, then stepped over it and into attention, regarding the Marines severely.
"I want a team of you to go down to the Commander's quarters and find out if he's safe," he said, voice cool, "and another team to get down to the engineering room. The damn savages always target the ships. Find out where the damage is. Another team, get in contact with the fleet, find out how many have been hit and how badly."
Sokka's whole body was numb. They had already guessed their plan and Hahn was dead. He stood like a statue as people moved around him, Jiro saying something about dawn and catapults. His consciousness snapped back into place when the Marine to his right, the girl, tugged his arm. "Let's go, sleepyhead," she said, exasperation slipping into her tone. "We'll go see if the Commander is alright. Snap out of it, man."
Sokka felt himself nodding before his mind fully processed the words. Once it did, his mind seemed to sharpen into focus. Of course, the Commander! This will be my chance. I'm here to discover his plans, and that's what I'm going to do. The other teams have already damaged their ships, and they'll be headed back to shore underwater by now. With a glance back at Hahn's body, still crumpled in a heedless heap on the deck, he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and jogged after the girl. Wait for me, Ilannaq. I can't fail this entire mission.
Only a few turns into the winding hallway below-deck, Sokka was violently yanked to the side, pulled through a doorway, and thrown to the floor. He heard the quiet click as the metal door shut behind him, frantically rolling to his feet and raising his fists in a sloppy fighting stance. He straightened involuntarily when he saw his captor.
"You're that old man," he blurted, crouching on the balls of his feet, puzzled at the familiar face. He shook his thoughts into focus. The old man was fat, and he reasoned he could probably make a dash for it, if they switched positions and he was near the door.
Unfazed, the man crossed his arms and tucked his hands in his voluminous sleeves, a stern frown on his wizened face. "Yes," he said simply. "I am Zuko's uncle, General Iroh. And you are the watertribe boy that travels with the Avatar."
Sokka felt his heartrate nearly double and swallowed hard. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said weakly, knowing that his first thoughtless observation—something a Marine never would have said—had already blown his cover.
"We don't have time for this, my boy," Iroh said, taking a step towards him. Sokka took a parallel step back and he stopped, putting up his hands—which, Sokka noted with a flinch, was not a particularly comforting gesture from a firebender. Iroh's frown deepened into a scowl, and he stepped back once, tucking in his hands again. "I mean you no harm. In fact, I need your help."
"Why would I help you?" Sokka spat, backing farther into the room, hands reaching behind him. Obviously the grisly old man had no intention of making enough room for him to leave out the door, and there were no windows. He'd have to find something to knock him out with, anything heavy and swingable-
"Stand still and listen," Iroh snapped, and Sokka found himself almost involuntarily obeying. The General's royal gold eyes blazed with authority, steadfastly holding Sokka's gaze. "The Avatar, the Water Tribe, and the whole world are in danger. The Commander of this ship has already left in secret to infiltrate the citadel, and will have made it past the Outer Wall by now. He is intent on finding and killing the spirit of the moon itself. As the Avatar is currently guarding that spirit, he will be placed in grave danger. The Commander is a ruthless and merciless man."
Sokka listened in dumb silence, shocked at the frank, iron-hard tone of his traitorous words. "Why are you telling me this?"
Iroh breathed out heavily in a gesture Sokka recognized from his father, one of ill-contained impatience. "I need you to get me into the city quietly, and for that you need to believe that I will not harm it." His round face begged for good faith. Sokka felt his throat closing.
"How stupid do you think I am?" he choked out, fury starting to shake his limbs. "First you attack my village and then you sail here to attack my sister-people; along the way you capture Aang, try to kill my sister, burn down an entire forest—and still, you ask me to trust you?" Hot tears stung his eyes, his vision of the old man's reaction blurring in a wobbly lens of salt water.
"You are right to hesitate," he admitted softly, bowing his head for a moment, "but wrong in many of your accusations; and frankly, you have very little choice in the matter, and even less time." Sokka blinked hard, banishing his tears even as Iroh's face and body seemed to tighten, lips pursing into an expression of distaste. He drew himself up, suddenly seeming much younger and far less frail, and his eyes bore into Sokka's, even through the bulky mask of his uniform. "You will get me into the Water Tribe one way or another," he ordered stonily, "but trust me when I say that escorting me willingly will be far easier for everyone involved."
Aang paused to squint in all directions, hoping that some distinguishing landmark might have appeared while he wasn't looking. Unsurprised (and nonetheless disappointed) that one had not, he sank to his knees. The watery surface of his first location had, at least, turned to flat grey stone. He drew in a deep breath, pulling his legs into a lotus position. He didn't dare to hope, knowing that his connection was fragile lately, at best, and it had already been broken once; but, he didn't have many other options available to him.
Avatars, please. I need a guide in the Spirit World.
At the tugging sensation deep within him, Aang cracked an eye open. His face split into a grin; he had never been so happy to see a bhikkuni. Considering he had only ever seen them a handful of times, swaddled in robes on a rare diplomatic visit to the Southern Temple, his joy at a friendly human face was only compounded by the novelty of its form. Crow-feet crinkled around her eyes as she smiled.
"Hello, Aang," she said softly, her voice like a warm wind. "I am Yangchen, the previous airbending Avatar."
"I know of you! You have been revered by my people for centuries. It's such an honor to meet you." He sketched a hasty bow, excitement bubbling; when he straightened, some of the warmth had left her face.
"You are troubled," she said, without preamble. Aang was reminded of the circumstances and nodded, heart sinking. Later, maybe, he could sit and talk with her in peace. But for the moment, he was trapped in this monochrome land with no sense of direction, not even the way back to the real world.
He took a deep breath to calm his anxiety before speaking, but his frustration was too strong to conquer. "I don't know my way and I can't figure out how to leave. Roku disappeared while I was talking to him. I wouldn't have needed him if I weren't so clueless, but I don't know anything about the spirits! This is the second time I've been useless to my friends because of it!" He propped his elbows on his knees so he could hide his face in his hands, trying to bury the nagging feeling that he was wasting precious, precious time.
"Well, that will have to change, will it not?"
Aang looked up, slightly comforted to see that Yangchen was smiling sympathetically. "Yes," he murmured. "As soon as I get out of here, I'll see to it that I learn more. But from where?"
"A conversation for another time," Yangchen said dismissively, waving a graceful hand. "For the moment, let me tell you what you need to know. If you are seeking the secret of victory over the Fire Nation, I fear the Spirits will not help you. Most do not wish to meddle in human affairs, and those that do would not loyal allies make." Her gaze sharpened. "If you seek a sweeter prize—perhaps, say, to claim a loyal ally from your enemies—I suggest you find the Prince."
Aang closed his eyes briefly, fighting off a headache. He tried to keep his priorities straight in his head, feeling a clock ticking. Be strong, Aang. You promised the Chief you would guard Yue against the Fire Nation. You promised Roku you would defend yourself against Zuko. You promised yourself you would try to help him. You need to find some answers and get back, now. "Roku warned me not to trust him," he said slowly.
"And he speaks wisely," she retorted, expression hard. "Confidence cannot be placed in the Prince, as you may not trust the wounded bison—but if you do not warily extend your hand, you will never gain its friendship… and it will likely never heal on its own."
Aang swallowed, hardening his resolve. "Yes, I understand. How do I return to my world?" He may not be able to seek the Prince directly, since he was given orders by the Chief to stay at his daughter's side; but if Master Pakku was right, Zuko would come to him… if Aang could only reach his heart somehow, prove what his Uncle had so ardently insisted upon…
"Leave?" Yangchen's voice snapped him back to the present, her round, full face amused. "You won't be leaving yet, young monk."
With the strange feeling of being sucked into the earth, jerked sideways, and spat out again, Aang found himself standing, disoriented and unsteady, before Zuko himself.
And he wasn't alone.
"Roku?" He couldn't quite keep the surprised betrayal from his voice. He didn't add what he wanted to. (You left me when I most needed support… for him?)
Zuko followed Aang's glance, looking over his shoulder, but didn't seem to notice the hero towering behind him. He turned back. "I didn't expect to see you here, Avatar," he gritted out.
Aang crinkled his nose with a glare. "That was a poor attempt at sarcastic civility, even for you," he retorted. His eyes drifted to the man that stood at Zuko's side, noticing that he had placed himself ever-so-slightly in front of the Prince. His features were strikingly similar, though older and smoother. The mystery companion smiled and bowed shallowly.
"Avatar. I am glad you found us. I was beginning to fear that seeking you out had been a mistake."
Aang had no patience for this. "Maybe it was!" He watched him for another moment, wanting to ask questions but knowing he had no time. Instead, he pinned Roku with his gaze once more, enjoying that the older man looked at least halfway sheepish. "What are you doing here? I needed your help."
Zuko looked like he had swallowed bile. "You need my-"
"Not you!" Aang snapped, wondering how Zuko couldn't see the towering figure at his side. "Roku, if you say you were just keeping an eye on him, I swear on my past lives-"
"No need for that, little cub." Yangchen's voice materialized behind him, immediately helping to soothe his raw nerves. "Two of us are already here."
"Make that four," a new voice spoke up. Aang turned with surprise, faced with a broad-shouldered, dark-skinned man, dressed in Watertribe attire and grimacing. Beside him was the infamous Avatar Kyoshi, arms crossed and expression as severe as ever.
"Explain this, Roku," she demanded. His eyes narrowed in her direction, but he turned an exasperated look on Aang.
"If you would allow me the opportunity to speak, my boy?"
Zuko flinched at the words, seemingly noticing the Fire Nation Avatar for the first time. Roku stepped forward, keeping his voice even despite his expression. When Aang said nothing, he sighed. "It was not of my own volition that I came here. When the Prince entered the Spirit World, I was immediately drawn to him. I have tried to return to you, but…." He cast a bemused glance over his shoulder at Zuko, who was watching the situation with shock in his mouth and wariness in his eyes. "It seems I am anchored here."
"Perfect," Zuko grumbled, having recovered himself enough to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I seek out the spirits and end up surrounded by five reincarnations of the one I hate the most."
"Now, cousin," the other man said, hand descending on his arm, (cousin, Aang thought, fitting pieces together), "I called out to Aang for a reason. You need answers and these spirits can give them to you." He frowned down at Zuko, whose face twitched with annoyance. Finally, after it seemed that a whole conversation passed silently between them, the Prince raised his eyes to meet Aang's, gold to grey.
"Why are you here, Avatar?" he asked, sounding more weary and less angry than Aang had expected. Aang drew in a breath and pulled his shoulders back, steeling his nerve. When he spoke, he mimicked Gyatso, soothing an angry mother bison. Firm, steady, warm and friendly.
"I am looking for a way to show you the truth, Zuko. And if you refuse to look at it, then I will seek something else: a way to defend the Water Tribe."
Zuko stared at him mutely. After a moment, he shook out of his cousin's grip and closed the space between them, stopping when he stood a mere foot from Aang. He crossed his arms and glowered down at the monk, fire in his eyes. "What truth could you have to give me?" Zuko growled, voice shaking.
Aang did his best to school his expression to reflect the raw power in the look. He opened his mouth to speak. Roku interrupted him.
"You were once the Avatar," Roku said, sounding as tired as Aang felt. Zuko's eyes slipped closed as the whisper of a sigh breathed over his lips. He didn't turn to face the source of the words, and for all the pity in the Fire Avatar's face it was probably for the best. "When you dueled your father, we had to leave you. You were no longer-"
"Fit for the station, I'm sure," Zuko cut in, voice soft and flat. Roku's face crumpled.
"You wonder why you are always drawn to Aang? Because you seek to restore your own balance. Your father used Soulfire to scar you, and I do not refer to the mark on your face." Though Roku's voice was gentle, Aang watched as Zuko's squeezed his eyes closed even tighter, biting his lower lip. "It is your very essence that he ripped in pieces that day. But a soul cannot survive without a vessel, my boy, and each tattered remain of yours latched onto whatever it could. One attached to me as I returned to Aang. That is why you know where he is, that is why you cannot bring yourself to harm him. He holds a very piece of your soul."
"Stop," Zuko whispered raggedly. "Don't you say another word."
"Even when the truth strikes you, you cannot turn away." Kyoshi watched the Prince, expressionless, stony. "And this? It is a well-deserved blow indeed."
Zuko's eyes snapped open and he snarled at her. His words seared like fire. "What about this situation did I deserve?" he demanded. "If I leave now, I have no answers, but I have the Avatar's body. And what then? Deliver him to my father, the very man that made me into this… this soulless monster, in return for his love?" He didn't spare a glance at Aang as he spoke, instead whirling to face Roku. Aang swallowed despite himself as the Prince's crazed laughter rang into the hollow landscape. "What a fruitless exercise that would be. But if not? At least, through Aang, I would have a chance at home and family again."
"Zuko." His cousin's voice was barely above a whisper, and his handsome face was drawn with lines of worry. He reached out a slender, entreating hand. "Please."
"Please what?" Zuko hissed, turning his rage on him. "Consider my other options? I have. Stay here, in the company of spirits. Listen to these liars and manipulators! Trust them, those that have moved me like a pawn all my pitiful life?" His voice cracked. "Maybe I'll have answers—but can I believe them?"
"It is not a matter of believing our word, dear little Prince.'' Yangchen stepped forward, gripping Zuko by both shoulders and giving him a shake. He ducked his head away, eyes screwed shut and jaw tight with anger. "Listen to me." She moved one hand to cup his chin and raised his gaze to meet hers, though every muscle in his body remained tense. Aang watched with apprehension, knowing the look of a coiled spider-snake. Even so, there was not a hint of fear in the airbender's face as she held it close to his. "This is the choice that has been laid before you. You return to the physical world, turn your back on your Uncle, and take Aang. You give him to your father, accept his gilded lies, and with time, take the throne of the Fire Nation. You live the life he never expected you to demand. You regain your honor in the eyes of your people, and perhaps even his begrudging respect. But the eyes of the world? They will look on you far from fondly. You become an icon of hatred and betrayal. You become the wounded animal that never healed. Does this sound appealing? No... perhaps you choose another path."
Roku had turned away, rubbing his temple with one hand. Zuko's eyes glistened, but Yangchen shook him again, relentlessly peering into his face with a sincerity that even Aang found uncomfortable. Everyone was silenced by her words. "You return to the physical world, and you do not side with your power-hungry Commander. You pursue not only your own balance, but the balance of the world. You trust your Uncle with your very life. You live the lonely life of a traitor. You see if you can fix what you and your family has wronged. And if you cannot, you die a man who tried with honor." She lowered her voice at last, loosening her grip so she could cup Zuko's cheek with a look that bordered on affection. "You see, Zuko? It is not a matter of believing us, but in choosing a path, and believing in yourself."
"Yangchen, the boy is shaking like a leaf," the Water Tribesman muttered, arms across his chest. "Give him a moment of peace." Yangchen sighed and rubbed a thumb across his cheek, though Aang hadn't seen Zuko shed a tear.
"Always the pacifist, Kuruk," Kyoshi muttered, shouldering past him. "You learn nothing. As you constantly deem to remind us, you must take action when such a moment presents itself. The Princeling cannot remain in this conflicted, pitiful shell any longer. I will not allow it. A moment of peace is the last thing he deserves." She strode forward, and from Zuko's other side, Roku whirled with a look of frustration, advancing as well.
"Kyoshi, don't-"
Kyoshi peeled Yangchen away from the boy, holding her back with one hand, and grabbed his tunic in her other fist, raising him off the ground until he could look her eye to eye. Roku drew up short as Zuko struggled vainly, watching the Prince with a pained expression as his fingers gripped at her wrist. "Understand this, boy," Kyoshi growled, inches from him. "Make the right choice and you will have my respect and allegiance. Choose poorly, and I will ensure that Aang, of his own volition or not, personally sees to your demise."
Zuko's eyes flickered to Aang's, and the monk found his own shocked horror reflected there. They didn't have time to share words, however, as Kyoshi unceremoniously dropped Zuko to his feet, steadying him with a hand on his throat when he stumbled. "Now, Prince Zuko, you decide your fate."
With a flash of light, Zuko disappeared. Kyoshi brushed her hands together, drawing herself upright in the silence that followed her declarative banishment. Yangchen glowered at her, but said nothing.
"Aang, my boy," she said, turning slowly. It took all of his will not to turn and run at that moment, focusing instead on clasping his trembling hands together and meeting her gaze as steadily as he could. She will not hurt you. She is on your side. His body remained unconvinced, and his breath came shallowly, waiting for what she might do.
Unexpectedly, one corner of her mouth twitched into a smile, and she knelt before him and took his hands in one of hers. Her voice was quieter when she spoke, though the passion was no less diminished. "If you seek defense for the Water Tribe, you must find allies in those who have always provided it. Only one remains in the Spirit World who would know the identity of the Ocean and Moon spirits. We can take you to him, but after that, you must withdraw this information yourself." Her face was confident, but Aang fancied he saw a crinkle of worry around her painted eyes.
"This spirit is dangerous, Aang," Kuruk warned. Shadows hung in the deep blue of his eyes. "You don't have to seek him out, and if you do so, it will be without our support."
Aang remembered what it was like to wander through the grey stillness alone and felt his heart beat faster. "Why?" he asked, hearing the unsteadiness in his voice.
"Taking you there will expire the last of our energy," Yangchen answered. "Even in the Spirit World, we should not be manifested this long, and certainly not so many lives at once."
Aang took in a deep breath through his nose and hung his head, trying and failing to ignore the thrum of energy emanating from the great heroes that surrounded him. It pressed all around him, willing him down one path. He knew his choice was nonexistent.
"I came here to find a way to help Zuko, or to help the Water Tribe. I can't do anything more for him now. It's time that I look after my friends and their people." He looked up, seeking Roku with his eyes. The older man's shoulders were hunched and his hands clasped behind his back. His mouth was set in a deep frown, but his golden eyes held a spark of pride and hope. Aang felt his spirit flare in harmony and squared his shoulders. "Take me to him."
The Avatars departed in a blaze of energy, and Lu Ten was left alone. He leaned against a gnarled tree that had materialized sometime during the conflict, blinking away black spots that lingered after the flash. Vaguely satisfied with outcome, he whistled softly to himself, twiddling a Pai Sho tile in his fingertips.
Zuko found himself back in his body with screams lingering in his ears.
"I'm no traitor, Zhao. The Fire Nation depends on the moon as much as the Water Tribes! What is the sun without the moon? We all depend on the balance!"
Zuko's eyes snapped open with a rush of relief. His Uncle was here.
"Whatever you do to that spirit, I swear to you, I will unleash on you tenfold!"
"Why am I unsurprised to discover your treachery, Iroh?"
Zuko shifted carefully to his feet, crouching to remain out of sight. His Uncle was not only here, but angry, and at Zhao. Zuko had never heard this sort of rage in his voice; the last time he could remember him being half so livid, the recipient was banished within the hour. The Commander continued in a matter-of-fact tone, obviously underestimating the severity of his situation.
"It is my destiny to subdue the Water Tribe, General, and my name will go down in the history books as the Conqueror, Zhao the Moon Slayer!" There was a pause, and Zuko held himself very still, wondering if his movement had been noticed. But when Zhao continued, it was with quiet mockery for Iroh alone. "Perhaps you stop me because your name is written with shame—the Failure, the Timid. The General Who Gave Up." He was spitting out the words now. "Your jealousy is half a century too late, and if you selfishly betray your nation tonight you will not live to see the sunrise."
Zuko's blood ran cold at the threat and he nearly leapt to his feet, only to freeze at his Uncle's mirthless chuckle. "Is that a threat? You've grown cockier than ever."
"I think not, Iroh. I have a great deal of leverage in this situation."
At the gasp, Zuko couldn't restrain himself any longer, diving out with a bellow and letting out a wide arc of flame. "Don't, Zhao!"
He wasn't sure what he was ordering him not to do. He only knew that in this fight, he would side with his Uncle. A hundred times over, without hesitation.
Everyone at the Spirit Oasis froze at his sudden appearance, crouched as he was with dao swords at his back and flames in his hand. Zuko took a moment to celebrate the unmasked shocked in Zhao's face—you thought you had gotten rid of me permanently, didn't you? But his Uncle's relief was the second thing to fill his vision, followed closely by the realization that the old man, set as he was in a loose offensive stance, was unharmed. He looked back to Zhao, noticing the fish that dangled from one hand and the apparently sleeping monk crumpled at his feet. The sky was beginning to darken, clouding over with a blood-red shadow. Suddenly, Zhao threw his head back and cackled.
"And the plot thickens!" he roared. "Here I thought I had done away with you, and you appear at just the moment to make your true loyalties known to all. I never thought I'd have the chance to kill you publicly." The glee shone on his face in the eerily tinted light. Two guards held the Watertribe girls with their arms behind their backs, exchanging worried glances. A third stood just behind Zhao, whether poised to defend or snatch the Avatar, he couldn't tell. A fourth, positioned behind the first two, held something that Zuko could not make out.
A body?
"Threaten his life again, Zhao, and it will not be me who dies tonight."
Sharply distracted, Zuko glanced over at his Uncle, his heart pounding at his merciless words and the look of pure hatred. He tried to voice a protest or consolation, but only managed to venture, "Uncle?" Iroh said nothing, his lips only tightening into a grim line, and Zuko shifted slightly to be out of his line of fire. He'd seen that look before—just not on his Uncle. He didn't want to be caught in the fallout again.
"So this is it, then?" Zhao's voice was crazed with bloodlust, and with another look back Zuko could see it shining in his eyes. "The final showdown. Let's see how you fare without your precious balance, General."
"No!"
Zuko and Iroh flew forward in the same instant, but the Commander had already charred the fish until it smoked and discarded its lifeless hull on the grass. His Uncle's wordless scream mixed with those of the Watertribe girls. All light was extinguished as the moon collapsed into a black void. Zuko fell to his knees, clenching his suddenly-throbbing head in his hands. "Uncle!"
"Stay here, Zuko," he was commanded, the voice firm and reassuring. "I will return with Aang's body. Do not do anything rash!"
Zuko blinked rapidly. "Uncle!" he called again, but gained no response. He struggled blindly to his feet, holding his injured hand to his head and the other out before him. Gritting his teeth against the pain, his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and he saw that Zhao's guard was crumpled on the ground, as was the Southern peasant girl. Iroh, Zhao, and Aang's body were gone. The other three men were shuffling into a defensive formation, unsure of what move to make. Zuko scowled at them, though he doubted they could see it.
"Damn you," he hissed, light flaring on his fingertips. "When your Prince and General order a subordinate not to do something, you stop him! What part of the chain of command do you not grasp?" Pain was sharpening his tongue, he knew, but he had no patience for those who couldn't follow orders.
The soldiers, finally noticing him, looked to each other for answers. They found none. Pulling himself up, Zuko took a deep breath and controlled the flame in his hand, allowing it to illuminate their terrified, hopelessly confused faces. Exasperated pity wormed his way into his heart. "Get out of my sight, now," he growled, using his free hand to gesture in the direction of the footprints in the snow. "You will find and support my Uncle, at all costs. If the Avatar's body is abandoned, one of you is to guard it until I arrive. Do I make myself clear?"
The soldiers ran, but whether to obey him or not he didn't know, nor care. Carefully, Zuko approached the pond, where only the Northern Water Tribe girl remained. She was crouching over the body that had been hidden from his view, small sobs racking her frame. Warily, Zuko lowered himself beside her, unsurprised to see the Southern Tribe boy in her arms. He let out a sigh and rocked back onto his heels. So the whole merry band is assembled, he thought, bitterness acrid in his mouth.
"Is he alive?" he asked, softly. The girl nodded, eyes closed. Tears still leaked from the corner of her eyes. Zuko swallowed a groan of annoyance, making his voice coming out sharper than intended. "Then why do you mourn him? He will wake with time."
With a feral cry, the girl pushed him onto his back, somehow gently setting down the boy as she did so. Her eyes sparkled a brilliant blue in the darkness, shining out of her furious face. Her tan skin nearly glowed. "How dare you!" she shrieked, tears glittering unnaturally. "Your men do this to my friends, my people, and you dare to mock my grief?"
"Your eyes." Zuko couldn't stop staring, though he had the presence of mind to raise his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Your face."
He received a hard kick to his ribs, knocking the air out of him and coiling his muscles in pain. "If you call me beautiful I swear on the Moo-"
Zuko, curled on the ground, looked up tentatively. The girl had stopped mid-curse and was staring with a look of sudden enlightenment. "What?" He scrambled to his feet. That look was familiar and unwelcome.
"The Moon Spirit." She spoke as if in a trance, piercing eyes unfocused. "It gave me life when I was an infant. Now I must give it back."
Zuko's gaze fell on the husk of the once-white Koi, abandoned on the shore of the pond. They drifted to its black partner, swimming erratically in a tight figure-eight. The pieces clicked together.
"That is a hefty sacrifice," he murmured. But his Uncle's terror, his furious words, echoed in his mind. The Fire Nation depends on the moon as much as the Water Tribes! What is the sun without the moon? We all depend on the balance! Even more urgently, Zuko felt the burning terror in his very being. This human transgression had to be reversed immediately, or the whole world would feel it: the impending wrath of the Spirits.
He forced himself to speak. "Are you willing to do that?" You do not have a choice, he wanted to say, but that wasn't true. If she ran at this moment, he doubted he could—or would—stop her.
"For the sake of this world?" She had gathered herself, gaze focused on him and sharp as ice. Her words were thrown at him like daggers. "I would give anything. As would anyone with a scrap of honor in them. My life will never be worth more than our balance with the spirits." She pinned him with a look that blamed, that judged, that hated. "Only a Fire Nation coward would even think of saving himself. It would never cross a true warrior's mind. I am far from a warrior, but I am at least of the Northern Water Tribe, and their blood runs in my veins."
Her voice choked on her final words, and he noticed that her eyes were not only glistening with power. Zuko felt his heart clench and force him into silence, so he could only nod. Her words rattled in his head, already aching with the wrongness of the empty night sky. It didn't matter, as the gesture was received only by her broad back. She knelt beside the corpse of the moon spirit, hands outstretched but hesitating. Zuko could see them trembling.
Now, Prince Zuko, you decide your fate.
"You're right," he called, as gently as he could. He wasn't sure what propelled him to speak, but he said what words that came. What does one say to their mortal enemy, to comfort them through suicide? "I will tell the others of your bravery. This selflessness will not be forgotten."
"By my people, never," she replied, and he could hear the tears in her voice. "By yours?" She took in a quiet breath. "Perhaps you're right. They will not forget it. They'll never know."
Her graceful fingers wrapped around the Spirit's lifeless body and emerged it in the pond. The flash of light and sudden silence stifled the protest Zuko might have made: they will know of you. I swear it.
As the pearly luminescence of moonlight drifted down on the scene, Zuko heard an anguished cry. He spun just in time to see the enraged face of the Southern Tribe boy as he brought his boomerang down. Zuko hurried to call upon flames, but his bandaged hand failed him. No! he wanted to yell. For once, you've got it wrong. I didn't mean for them to get hurt. I was trying to stop it. He didn't have time. The weapon slammed into his temple and Zuko felt himself falling, sucked into the cold embrace of water before the world turned black.
A/N: A lot of Zuko this chapter to make up for how little he had last time. (And two cliffhangers for him in a row, whoops...)
Anyway, at least this one is up on time! Enjoy! Hope you have something to comment on. 400th reviewer gets a gift-fic of their request!