Chapter Twenty-Five

The tea went airborne in a slow, flipping arc before spilling and soaking into a shirt that was almost blindingly white. Leaflets of paper drifted around them like confetti, floating to the glossy floor as hapless casualties of their jarring collision. He immediately dropped to his knees in a mad dash to recover the scattered items that continued to roll and skitter. He offered his help freely to the girl, but she ignored him, clearly too exasperated to pay him much attention at all. She muttered under her breath about "rude people in the city" as she crawled on her hands and knees to recover her personal effects.

"I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry…" he mumbled over and over again, "I didn't see you at all! It's like you came from out of nowhere and then…BOOM!"

"I could see how you missed me," she mocked tartly, still not looking at him, "What with me standing directly in front of you!"

"Yeah…that was dumb."

"You think?"

He couldn't get a view of her face due to her hair falling across her features like a curtain, but he didn't need to. The annoyance in her tone was palpable. He would have liked to get a glimpse of her face because, aside from the exasperation in her tone, she sounded rather pleasant. There was something about her voice that he liked immediately.

"I'm sorry," he said again as his eyes lit on the darkening stain that spiraled her shirt sleeve, "I completely ruined your shirt, didn't I? I'm such a klutz!"

"Forget about it," she said as she finished retrieving the last of her things. She stuffed the last of them into a stylish, black bag and straightened. Still, she barely looked at him as he handed her the papers he had recovered. "I'm fine. It's an easy clean-up."

With a single flip of her wrist, she lifted the tan liquid from the fibers of her shirt, rendering the material pristine once more, and sloshed the tepid tea into her fallen cup. The boy snapped to attention, an amazed smile spreading across his face. "Wow! You're a waterbender! That's amazing. You don't get to see too many people openly bending these days."

The girl groaned inwardly, realizing that one simple move had just opened her up to a world of painful scrutiny. She lifted her head, prepared to rattle off some ready excuse to explain away her ability…and immediately forgot what she was going to say to him. Her vivid blue eyes flared wide as they collided with the clearest, grayest eyes she had ever seen. He had a sweetly handsome face with an equally sweet expression, but what really drew her fascinated stare was the tip of the pale, blue arrow in the center of his forehead just beneath his unruly hairline. He was a bender too. The girl relaxed then. She smiled at the boy, her annoyance suddenly replaced with blushing timidity. He smiled back.

"And you're an airbender," she breathed with the same amount of wonder that he had used seconds earlier, "I've never met one in person before. I didn't realize your people ever left the temples."

He grinned sheepishly and scratched behind his ear. "It happens sometimes," the boy replied vaguely, "But yeah, I guess the big, blue arrow makes it hard to hide the fact that I'm a bender, huh?"

The girl's beaming smile faltered a little, becoming tinged with bitterness and frustration. "You shouldn't have to hide it. None of us should."

When Aang opened his eyes he was back in the dense jungles of the Fire Nation, surrounded by at least twenty snoring men. His breath funneled back into his lungs in a startled gasp, his heart thundering in his chest. He felt agitated and out of place, the way he always did following a dream. Iroh and the rest of his camp continued to doze on, but after that strange dream, Aang was wide awake.

It was like nothing he had ever experienced before, familiar and yet wholly unfamiliar as well. He had been almost like a bystander, floating high above the girl and the boy, watching them talk. But Aang had known the entire time that he was watching himself and Katara…only it was a version of them that he didn't recognize at all. Their surroundings had been bizarre. Their clothing had been bizarre. Even their conversation had been bizarre. Aang couldn't imagine a world where bending wasn't approved of…where a bender was forced to hide their abilities. And yet, that was exactly the environment his dream self and the dream Katara had grown up in.

Aang didn't know what any of it meant. He considered that perhaps the late dinner he'd had just before going to bed simply hadn't agreed with him and had produced the strangest nightmare he'd ever experienced. Yet for all of its peculiarity, one thing had remained inherently the same in his dream…he was just as drawn to Katara in that dream as he had been in his others…as drawn to her as he was now. Thinking about that instantly brought his current dilemma back to mind, a subject Aang had spent days avoiding.

He had run away from the North Pole and put as much distance as he could between himself and the fourteen year old girl who was slowly consuming his life and still he couldn't purge her from his mind. She was almost like a sickness. The problem was…Aang wasn't so certain anymore that he wanted the cure. The thought frightened him on several fundamental levels. He wanted to do the right thing, most especially for Katara, and he couldn't trust himself to do that, not when she was in such close proximity and telling him all the things he had yearned to hear from her for nearly 100 years. She was offering him everything he had ever wanted and yet it was nothing that he could have.

Frustrated with his inability to let go of her, Aang flipped back the small blanket covering him and rolled upright. Sleep had effectively eluded him and so that left him with no other choice except to go for a late night stroll. Careful not to wake his companions, Aang rolled to his feet with surprising fluidity for a man his age and padded quietly into the thick foliage beyond their campsite. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the moonlight filtering down through the treetops, but once they had, Aang had no trouble navigating his way through the trees. In a way, he was in very familiar territory. The Fire Nation had become as much of a home to him as the Air Temples.

He and his band were already halfway through the country, traveling mostly incognito. The plan was to make it all the way to the Earth Kingdom border where they would rendezvous with the army being led by Ba Sing Se's General How. The journey was treacherous but Aang and his companions were aided heavily by some of the very same families who had assisted him and Azuka after they'd fled the North Pole during the first war. Being back in those same surroundings made Aang think of her and all the promises he had made to her before she died.

Every action he had taken following Sozin's defeat had been purely motivated by love and his fervent desire to keep the vows he had made to Azuka. He had wanted nothing but good things for the Fire Nation. He had wanted it to become the nation that Azuka had envisioned. It was clear to Aang that many people in the Fire Nation did believe that his intentions had been sincere, but that didn't completely eradicate the bitterness and hurt they felt over what they viewed as continued punishment for Sozin's crimes. Even those who supported him questioned why there continued to be such heavy sanctions on the Fire Nation. Why should the actions of a few determine the fate of an entire nation? It was a valid question, one that Aang intended to answer once Ozai was in check.

In the meantime, word had already trickled down to them that Ozai had finally taken the Palace City by force and now had the entire military at his disposal. Those who opposed him were not allowed to live very long. Due to that disheartening development, Aang knew that they couldn't attack him there without some real military might as backup. A handful of rebels, a dozen Water-Tribe warriors, a still recovering Iroh and himself weren't going to be enough to quash the firestorm that Ozai had started.

Aang knew very well that he could probably face Ozai now and he could defeat him, but that wouldn't necessarily quell the rebellion he had started. It wouldn't address the world's perception that the Fire Nation continued to be a threat and it wouldn't grant the Fire Nation citizens the freedom they craved. The situation would likely worsen even after Ozai was removed from power and some other rebel would inevitably rise up in his place. The Fire Nation had to come to the realization that Ozai as their supreme ruler wasn't any better an option than Sozin had been. Once they understood that, they would be ready to accept Iroh as their Firelord and Aang could then confidently turn over full rulership of the nation to him. Only then could they discuss true reform within the territory.

For the present, Aang concentrated his energy on buoying Iroh's spirits and getting himself and his men safely across the Fire Nation without alerting Ozai to their presence. His priority was to keep Ozai from taking the civil conflict within the nation no further than the Fire Nation's borders. Now that he had control of the throne, his next action would be to expand his kingdom outward. Aang was determined not to let that happen. Keeping focused on those tasks had a twofold purpose, however. When he was occupied with keeping two steps ahead of Ozai, Aang had very little time to obsess over his situation with Katara. But when it was dark and quiet and the camp had settled down for the evening, Aang's thoughts would inevitably roll back to her…much like they were now.

He didn't know what he was going to do about her at all. Katara was stubborn and willful. Aang had no idea how he was supposed to convince her to let go of him when he hadn't managed to let go of her in 100 years of trying. But he had to find some way. He didn't want Katara to waste the next few decades of her life chasing down a future that was utterly impossible. And he absolutely knew it was impossible. Aang had already looked at it from all angles. He had sought answers from the spirits within and outside of the spirit realm and none had the answers. If there was a way to reset matters, he was certain that he would have found it by now. They were doomed. He had known that since he was twelve, even if he'd been in rampant denial of that fact.

Aang was still lamenting that depressing truth, contemplating the moon and thinking of her when he sensed the shifting terrain behind him and became aware of the faint sounds of crunching leaves and detritus. He leaned into the mossy bark of a nearby tree, a small smile curving his lips. But he didn't turn to face his tracker. Instead, he said, "I thought you would have given up the idea of sneaking up on me way back in your boyhood, Iroh."

Iroh came to stand alongside him with a weary chuckle. "One day, I'm going to figure out how you do that."

"Some secrets will always remain secret," Aang replied with an appraising, sideways grin, "What are you doing awake? We have an early start tomorrow."

"I could ask you the same thing," Iroh countered pointedly, "Besides, I was curious. I don't think I've ever seen you brood before."

Aang jumped at Iroh's gruff comment, turning his attention back towards the twinkling sky. "I'm not brooding," he denied softly.

Iroh grunted his unspoken dissent. "You're surely not meditating either. Something is troubling you." When Aang made no argument to the contrary, Iroh said, "You're not worried about Appa, are you? Are you having second thoughts about leaving him behind?"

"No. Appa is in good hands. I know Sokka and Katara will keep him safe." His mouth turned in a wistful smile. "They'll keep each other safe."

"Then what is it?" Iroh pressed.

"It's much too complicated to explain, my friend."

"I'm willing to listen. You may make it less complicated if you talk about it."

Aang sighed heavily, tempted to give into the need to unburden himself but knowing from experience that talking never fixed a single thing. Rather than responding to Iroh's offer then, he asked, "Did you know that your Aunt Azuka used to have dreams about the future?"

Iroh nodded. "My father told me. He said she had a special sight."

"She did. She saw you…and Ozai. She told me that there would be profound darkness in him and that your father and I would have to combat that if we didn't want…" he spread his arms wide and gestured to their surroundings, "…this."

"You cannot hold yourself responsible for Ozai's actions, Aang."

"Can't I?"

"No, you can't. My brother is a full-grown man with a wife and children of his own. His actions are his responsibility."

"She told me, Iroh. She warned me. What she saw was always true. I should have been better with him. I should have tried harder."

"And he would have wanted more," Iroh concluded, "That has always been the way with him. He has never been satisfied with what he had. He has always wanted more."

"He wanted the recognition that Azulon and I gave you. He wanted us to love him the way we loved you."

"You did."

"Did we?" Aang wondered, "I find myself wondering about that sometimes. He was always a very difficult child to know and understand. There was so much pain and bitterness and animosity within him. Azula is the same way. It scares me."

"Azula wants her father's approval," Iroh considered, "She knows that she gets it when she's heartless to Zuko."

"And that saddens me."

"Me as well," Iroh agreed, "I don't want them to have the contentious relationship that Ozai and I had as children. I don't want them to one day repeat the same mistakes we've made."

"So, we should be different…with Azula. It's not too late for her."

"We will be different, Aang. Don't punish yourself for the bad things Ozai has done. You're not Aunt Azuka. You can't predict the future."

"If only I couldn't…" Aang mumbled to himself.

Iroh frowned and regarded Aang's dejected profile in the moonlight. "Is that the reason why you haven't been sleeping well the past few nights, because you've been thinking about where you went wrong with my brother?"

"Partly…" Aang admitted, "I've been concerned about a great many things lately, including you, Iroh. I'm very worried about you."

Now it was Iroh's turn to become sullen and withdrawn. He didn't need to ask Aang the reason he was worried. The answer was evident on his face. Iroh knotted his jaw. "I don't wish to speak about LuTen."

"I know you don't. That's what worries me."

Iroh shook his head, swallowing past the acrid tears that burned in his throat. "It's too soon," he said gruffly, "I'm not ready. When I am ready, we will talk. I promise you."

"Tell me that you're doing well, at least," Aang entreated.

"I cannot tell you that because I am not. But I cannot help LuTen now. He is with the spirits. I can help my people. I can help my niece and my nephew. They are the ones who need me."

"And me," Aang added softly, "I need you too."

Iroh smiled at him fondly. "You are worried about what the future will bring and you shouldn't, Aang."

Aang's breath escaped him in a small, ironic grunt. "And why is that?"

"I am not my aunt by any means," Iroh said, "But I've always had a sense about you. You smile and laugh on the outside, my friend, but inside you are a very sad and lonely man. It is not a good thing to go on as you have all of these years. You shouldn't be so afraid all the time, Aang."

"I'm not afraid to die, Iroh, if that's what you're thinking."

"No, it's not…" Iroh replied quietly, "You're afraid to live. That's why you've never married. That's why you've never had a family. It's as if you want nothing that will tether you to this world, this life."

"Like I told you before, it's complicated."

"I'm sure it is," Iroh murmured, "Then again, perhaps if you stopped running from the things that frighten you, you might be able to find the path you've been seeking all along."

Zuko awakened to the most excruciating pain he had ever known. As he groggily came to awareness he gradually assimilated three things. The first was that nearly the entire left side of his face was bandaged and he was drenched in sweat. The second was that he was obviously in a buggy or wagon of some kind if the rhythmic swaying and painful dips and bumps were any indication. And the third, most alarming, realization was that his sister was sitting upright alongside him and dozing lightly. Zuko groaned aloud and the sound roused Azula from her light slumber.

She regarded him with dispassionate eyes. "Welcome back," she said, "I was beginning to think you might never wake up."

"Where…" Zuko paused and swallowed, surprised by how hoarse and grainy his voice sounded as well by how dry his mouth felt. He closed his eye and cleared his throat several times before beginning again. "Where…are we?"

"On our way to the Earth Kingdom," Azula said, "There are rumors that Uncle and Aang are here in the country. My hope is to intercept him and his army and then perhaps we can get you some real medical attention."

Zuko frowned in confused dismay. "You're…helping…me?"

Azula sniffed disdainfully. "You don't have to say it like that. You are my brother, after all."

"Since…when has that…ever mattered to you?" Zuko snorted in a weary croak.

"It matters, Zuko," she confessed gruffly, "It's always mattered to me."

Too tired to point out to her all the ways she had acted contrary to that declaration, Zuko relaxed back into the straw pallet on which he lay and tried to focus his thoughts. He could not recall how he and Azula had come to be in the wagon or why he was in so much pain. His last clear memory was fighting with her in the gardens. He had watched her storm off and then…nothing. It was all black until the moment he opened his eye and discovered her next to him. He grimaced with the effort to recall the events that had led him to that moment.

"What happened?" Zuko lamented aloud.

"I wanted to get you in trouble," Azula mumbled in a dull tone, "I thought he would punish you. I imagined it would be amusing to watch you sob like a baby, but…I didn't know that it would be so bad. I didn't know…"

"You didn't know?" Zuko snorted, "He hates me! You know he hates me, Azula!"

Her eyes flashed and shimmered in the moonlight. "I didn't know, Zuko!"

"So…I guess he attacked me or something," Zuko surmised in an exhausted mumble, "Is that why I'm in so much pain?"

"Yes. You've been sick. Fever and infection."

He swallowed roughly. "How bad is it?"

"The left side of your face…your ear…it's all gone, Zuko." She glanced away from him, her jaw clenching tightly. "It's…it's really bad. You're not going to look the same."

While Zuko had never been particularly vain, he had liked his face. It was one of the few things he truly did like about himself and now even that had been destroyed. A lone tear rolled from Zuko's uninjured eye, but he didn't press Azula for details on how he looked. He wasn't ready to hear the gruesome details. Not yet. The horrified expression on her face was enough.

"Tell me what happened after," he demanded with stoic calm.

"Mom lost it. I've never seen her like that. She attacked him so that you could run away," Azula recounted, "I found you crawling around in the hall, begging for someone to help her. And, the whole time, Mom was just screaming and screaming." Azula pulled her knees to her chest, shivering a little with the memory. "I can still hear her screaming."

Zuko shivered as well and it had nothing to do with the fever raging through his body right then. He dreaded asking his next question, but he couldn't stop the words from leaving his mouth. "What did he do to her?"

"I had to get you out of the house," Azula replied, avoiding his query altogether, "Father was in a rage. I couldn't be sure what he would do. I picked you up and dragged you out into the forest and hid you there so you would be safe."

"Out of the kindness of your heart, right? I'm sure it was more like you left me there to die…" Zuko muttered caustically.

Azula pinned him with a narrowed glare. "I saved your life! He would have killed you that day if I hadn't taken action! Be grateful for once in your pathetic life!"

"That day?" he echoed with a deepening frown, "How long ago did it happen?"

"Weeks," Azula said, "You've been out for weeks."

The concern and worry in her tone took Zuko by surprise. He looked up at her as if he didn't know who she was. In a way, he felt like he didn't. This was a side of his sister that he hadn't seen in quite a few years, if ever at all. "Why did you help me, Azula? What's in it for you?"

"Nothing. I helped you because she asked me to," Azula told him, "I was too stunned to help her when it started. I hid and watched. I regret that."

"What did she tell you?"

"She told me to keep you safe because she knew that I was clever enough to do it," she answered quietly, "He wanted to send men after you to…to finish you, but I convinced him that you'd probably die and it wasn't worth his effort…so he didn't."

"Thanks a lot."

"It kept you alive, didn't it?" she snapped, "I did what I had to do."

"What about Mom? Is she okay?"

"He hurt her very badly," Azula whispered, "And he wasn't even sorry. He said she was a traitor and that's how traitors should be dealt with." She swiped at the mutinous tears falling on her cheeks with her shirt sleeve. "I don't even know why I care. She always loved you more."

"Is she dead?" Zuko whimpered.

"He wanted me to accompany him to the Palace City…" she explained numbly, "…because he said the time had come for him to assume his rightful place on the throne. I asked him if I could stay behind to put things in order with the house and that afterwards I would join him. He believed me. But that was a lie…and now I'm a traitor too."

"Then why did you stay behind at all? You always wanted his approval."

"I'm not a monster!" she grated, "I'm not heartless regardless of what anyone thinks! Someone needed to take care of Mom…and you. He didn't care, so I had to."

"Where is she?" he pressed her anxiously, "Where is Mom? Can I see her? Is she alright?"

Azula stared down at him with dark, tortured eyes, her anguish and vulnerability naked on her face for the first time since she had been a very little girl. "She's dead, Zuko," she revealed thickly, "Our mother is dead. You want to know the reason I'm helping you? That's why I'm helping you. She died the day after he left."