OK, friends – long Author's Note! Sorry it took me a little longer than usual to get this one out. It wasn't one of those chapters that just flows from my brain in a single night; it came in spurts, and unfortunately I've been super busy with school recently, so yeah… I wish I had some way to update between updates, just to let you all know I'm still going. All I can do is keep reassuring you guys that this story WILL eventually get finished, no matter how long it takes. :)
Believe it or not, I had to split this chapter up from the one after it – AGAIN! I'm beginning to suspect that I'm far too ambitious about what I think I can fit into a single chapter. To be honest, part of my motivation for splitting the chapters up this time was so that I'd be able to update a little bit sooner (you're welcome! :D). But also, I'm discovering that many chapters which I think will be shorter are now growing longer, due to my trying not to rush things. And that's definitely the case with the next two chapters… So, if I keep going like this, I think this story might very well be about 50 chapters long by the time it's finished. Holy cow. :0
Now, I actually wanted to say something about the story in general real quick (even though it isn't relevant at all to this particular chapter), because oddly enough I got two comments almost back-to-back a couple of weeks ago about the same question. Namely this:
Why would Koh steal Aang's face? Koh was never really straight-up evil in the show, just apathetic and creepy. So… WHY?! :(
Heh, well… I'm not going to answer this question yet, for reasons. But I just wanted to assure everyone that I do actually have an answer. Indeed, I have thought about it quite a lot (probably more than I needed to, because I'm obsessive that way). And yes, the explanation will come into the story later. And, as always, dear readers, it is my deepest desire to keep all the characters – including Koh – as faithful to the way they were presented in the series as I possibly can. Plus, I'd hate myself as a writer if I ever caught myself feebly shrugging off a plot point with the pathetic explanation, "Just because?"
So, yeah, don't worry. Koh didn't steal Aang's face just for the evulz. That's not Koh's style. But all these mysteries will be cleared up in due time! :)
Also… YAY 100+ REVIEWS! *toots party horn and hands out cupcakes* :D :D :D
Thanks so much to everyone who's been reviewing this story! (Yes, most recent anonymous reviewer, I do read ALL my reviews, and I love them very much!) It's so inspiring just to know that people are reading it (and enjoying it!) and also giving it enough thought to question things like Koh's motivation for stealing Aang's face. I really appreciate that you guys are considering these details and making sure I stay on track, and I sincerely hope that I satisfy everyone's expectations as the story goes on. Please keep it up, and I'll do my best to keep up my end too! :)
Rain&Roses: "Hey Aang! I think you might like this chapter!" :D
Aang: "Really? Do I get to show up in Katara's dreams again and say mysterious sad things?"
Rain&Roses: "Uh-h-h-h… Well, no. No, you don't, 'cause Katara's sort of boycotting sleep right now. But I think you might like it anyway!"
Aang: "Aw, phooey! But I miss Katara." :'(
Rain&Roses: "I know, I know. She misses you too. And stop with the sad puppy-dog face! I told you not to do that at me. It makes my heart hurt."
Aang: "Well… there is one thing that might cheer me up…" ^_^
Rain&Roses: *sigh* "OK, fine. You can have another custard tart. Fatty."
Aang: "Yay! Om nom nom nom…!"
THE STORM, PART ONE:
Visions
Zuko stood at the stern and clenched the railing of the ship, staring hard at the dusky horizon. Light of an uncanny grayish-ochre color highlighted the restless, chopping angles of the ocean's surface, as far as his eyes could see. The sun was abandoning them again: another sleepless night would soon be upon them. But already the sky was growing prematurely dark, swirling with inky clouds that were rapidly emerging from the southwest, reaching out greedy tendrils toward the drifting ship. Bursts of lightning intermittently illuminated the thick thunderheads, tracing them out in sharp, transitory detail.
His knuckles paled with the ferocity with which he grasped the metal railing.
Not now. His thoughts churned feverishly. Not a storm. Not now.
It wasn't fair. Being trapped on a ship with Azula was difficult enough, without any other complications to make things worse. Just since this morning, she'd managed to slit three more throats, to set fire to one of the lifeboats (luckily only one; they managed to chase her away before she could sabotage more), and to throw someone overboard. She'd also consistently evaded capture – hardly a surprise – despite the fact that there were at least four dozen soldiers scouring the ship for her every minute of the day.
It wasn't fair that they'd have to deal with a storm on top of all that. Right now, the only place on the ship where they were even remotely safe was up on the deck, out in the open, where she couldn't sneak up on them as easily. But if the storm overtook them, they'd have no other choice but to go below. Down where it was cramped and claustrophobic. Down where she was undoubtedly hiding at this very moment.
It wasn't fair. Everything was against them now. Somehow, it seemed that nature itself was in a conspiracy with Azula, doing all in its power to drive them straight into her hands.
Hearing footsteps behind him, Zuko turned. Ashiro was approaching him, looking just as ragged and defeated as Zuko felt.
"Ashiro," Zuko said, his voice scraping bleakly out of his throat. "We need to get away from that storm. If we get caught in it…"
He trailed off, too tired to finish his thought. But Ashiro's face flashed with grave understanding, and he tilted his head slightly, signifying that he knew precisely what Zuko was thinking. If they got caught in the storm, then their only advantage, their only buffer against Azula – the open space of the deck – would be compromised. It would be like being trapped in a viper's den.
"I'll have the engines started," Ashiro said. "We've already been going nowhere for far too long as it is."
Zuko nodded wearily, rubbing his aching eyes. "Tell the helmsman to take us north, as fast as we can."
The young general blinked at him for a moment, and Zuko saw Ashiro's eyes swarm with sudden despair.
"Fire Lord Zuko," he murmured, "heading north will only take us further out to sea. Are you sure we shouldn't try to head east and make for the Earth Kingdom?"
But Zuko shook his head. "We're too far. We're too far from anywhere – it would take us at least two or three days to get to the Earth Kingdom from here, and we wouldn't be able to outrun the storm. All we can do is try to get out of its path... So, north. Please, Ashiro."
Ashiro nodded solemnly, and turned to carry out Zuko's orders.
Suki was wandering the deck near the bow, letting Tenzin dangle off her hand, trying to keep herself awake, trying to keep herself from giving in to total hopelessness, from losing her mind in the awful, unbearable, motionless silence. They'd only lost one night of sleep so far, and already she felt ready to fall apart. How many more nights would they have to spend out here, going nowhere, too afraid to sleep, trapped on this miserable ship with Azula? How many long hours would they have to spend, watching other people die one by one, going insane with anticipation, before it was all over? How long would this nightmare have to go on before the inevitable end finally overtook them?
Days? Weeks?
Just the thought of it was maddening enough to make Suki want to fling herself overboard and have it over with now, and not give Azula the pleasure of tormenting her any longer. But she couldn't do that – she couldn't let herself succumb to that kind of despair. There had to be a way out. There had to be. She just couldn't see what it was.
If only she could get some sleep, she might actually be able to think clearly. But she couldn't. It was too risky to sleep.
Suki wondered if Azula ever slept.
"Aunt Suki," Tenzin murmured drowsily, rubbing his eye. "When are we going home?"
"I don't know, Tenzin," she replied in a daze, unable to bring herself to utter the dreadful word "never," though that was the real answer that resounded brutally in her mind.
"Do you think Momma and Uncle Sokka are somewhere around here?" he asked hopefully. Like her, he was also only half-conscious, and spoke like he was wandering in a dream. "Maybe we'll find them, and Appa can save us. D'you think, maybe? It could… They might be just around the corner. Appa would carry us, right?"
"I don't know," she sighed again, massaging her forehead. "Yeah, I guess, maybe."
Once again, she couldn't bring herself to speak the real thoughts floating through her mind: that Sokka and Katara were probably nowhere even close to them; that there was no Appa coming to carry them away; that they were on their own, and Sokka and Katara would never know what had happened to them until it was too late. Suki thought all these things, but of course she couldn't say any of that to Tenzin. He needed to believe that maybe, somehow, Appa was close by. That his Momma would be coming soon to carry him away to safety. That this was all merely an unpleasant adventure-gone-wrong, and eventually he'd be home again and everything would go back to normal. He was too young – far too young to even suspect that there was no hope in sight, that there was a very strong possibility he'd never see home, or his mother, ever again.
He was so young – so young. It broke Suki's heart. It wasn't fair.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the endless, onerous monotony was finally shattered. There was a deep rumble, and the deck vibrated beneath their feet, and the ship burst to life with the thunderous hum of the engines. They were moving again.
Suki nearly exploded from sheer relief. Sound! Movement! Something to finally break their terrible stasis! Finally! Her entire soul felt rapturously uplifted the instant that the oppressive silence was broken by the glorious noise of the engines. Just knowing that they were no longer drifting aimlessly, that they had a destination now (no matter what it was), filled her with a strange gush of hopeful energy.
"We're moving!" Tenzin cried in surprise. "Where are we going, Aunt Suki? Are we going to the North Pole now?"
Suki hesitated. Where were they going?
Where was there to go?
Surely not to the North Pole – not at this point. But where then? Back to the Fire Nation, to end up exactly in the same place they started? Or to the Earth Kingdom?
"I, uh," Suki stammered, frowning slightly, "I have no idea, Tenzin."
The more she wondered about it, the more Suki's short-lived burst of relief quickly transformed into a whole new kind of anxiety. Now they were moving: the status quo had been unsettled, the stalemate disrupted. What would happen now?
As soon as Azula realized they were no longer headed for the North Pole – as soon as she saw that they weren't going to lead her to Sokka and Katara and the others, nor were they going to waste any more time letting her terrorize them out here in the middle of nowhere – surely Azula would waste no more time in finishing them all off? Surely she wouldn't just let them go home, not when she had them trapped here in such a perfectly vulnerable position.
Suki's mind whirred with hectic, paranoid vigor, fueled by her recent burst of energy – whirred like the ship's rumbling engines.
The way things were now, she thought, Azula had the upper-hand. She had them cornered, on the defensive, with nowhere to run. But if she allowed them to get near land, or even near another ship, they'd be able to escape without her following them. They could slip away on the lifeboats and leave her stranded on this ship. All they needed was somewhere to flee to, and they'd have the upper-hand again.
Azula would anticipate that. Surely she'd have something drastic in mind to prevent herself from getting in that situation. And whatever it was, she'd do it before they were anywhere close to land.
No doubt that was why she'd gone after the lifeboats earlier today. But even if she managed to sabotage the lifeboats, that would hardly guarantee that they wouldn't get away. Azula still wouldn't want them anywhere close to safety. Her current power over them would come unraveled. No – she would try to stop them before they even caught sight of land.
She might even destroy the ship itself. Suki knew from experience that Azula had the means to do so, if she pleased.
Of course, she wouldn't want to do it, except as a last resort. Blowing up the ship would be just as disastrous to Azula as it would be to the rest of them.
But, if there was no other choice… Azula was insane enough to go through with it. She'd be perfectly willing to take herself down, as long as she dragged all of them along with her. And the need to prevent them from escaping might make her desperate enough.
If not… it was more likely she'd just accelerate her attacks, trying to take as many of them out as possible before they reached land. Or she might try to commandeer the ship.
No matter what, they were moving now. And that meant Azula would be moving too, and soon.
Scooping Tenzin up into her arms, Suki intended to race off to find Zuko and discover what was going on, whether or not he had an actual plan, whether or not he'd thought about any of these things that she was thing about, or if he was merely desperate to go somewhere, regardless of what happened. But when she turned, Zuko was already there, approaching them with a grim look in his eyes.
"Zuko!" she cried. "We're moving!"
"That's correct," he answered flatly, giving her a tired look.
"I mean," Suki frowned, shaking her head with a scowl. "But – you told them to move? What's going on? Where are we going?"
"We're heading north," he declared simply, almost defensively: cautioning her not to argue about it.
"North?" she asked, furrowing her brow at him. "As in…?"
"The same direction we were going before," he gave her a curt nod. "Yep."
She gaped at him, heart pounding inexplicably. Was he okay? Had he just given up? Was he so desperate to see his original plan through to the end, or to see Katara again – or, possibly, to try to convince her to give up her crazy attempt at rescuing Aang – that he just didn't care anymore whether or not Azula tagged along with them? Had the silence and the sleeplessness and the paranoia addled his brain? She could hardly blame him if it had, but still.
"Um, Zuko," she faltered, with grave concern. "Wouldn't going north just take us farther from land? We're still at least a good week's journey from the North Pole! If we're going to go anywhere, wouldn't it make more sense to head for the Fire Nation or the Earth Kingdom?"
He just shook his head abruptly. "No. We're going north."
"But – why?" she demanded, frowning fiercely.
This time, instead of answering her verbally, he merely lifted his arm and pointed back toward the stormy southwestern sky behind them. As if on cue, a sharp crack of thunder reverberated across the water, and the dark clouds blazed with lightning.
Suki blinked at the storm. She hadn't noticed it until then.
"Oh," she muttered. "That."
"Yeah," he scowled. "That."
A storm. They were being chased by a storm now. They were trapped on a boat with a murderous madwoman, and now they were being chased by a storm. Suki felt almost furious, suddenly – her fury burned with astonishing intensity. She was still pulsing with the rush of energy brought on by the newly awakened engines – an unnatural energy that was undoubtedly a side effect of her lack of sleep – and that energy channeled itself into fierce resentment. Though, she wasn't entirely sure what it was that she was so angry at. At the storm itself, she supposed, even though she knew it hardly made sense to hold a grudge against the weather.
Still – it wasn't fair! Why would the storm choose now to come after them? It felt personal, somehow. Like the weather had some vendetta against them.
"Well, that's… that's just perfect, isn't it?" she growled.
"Uh-huh," Zuko groaned listlessly, clearly experiencing none of the frenetic energy coursing through Suki at the moment.
"Can we outrun it?" she asked him hastily. "Is the ship fast enough?"
"No," he sighed, "but we might be able to get out of its way. Either way, though, our already precarious situation just got a little… uh, precariouser. Because, apparently, the Universe hates us."
Suki glanced at him, and she almost smirked, though she was far too frazzled and unhappy to actually do it. "You sound like Sokka," she commented.
Zuko scoffed. "Yeah, well, I'm sure wherever Sokka is right now, he's got nothing to complain about compared to us."
"Really?!" Sokka griped, grasping Appa's reins tighter. "A storm? Right now? Does the Universe hate us or something?"
Appa griped as well, even more loudly and miserably than Sokka.
The icy rain – which hadn't been there at all only a few seconds before – was already pelting them viciously, and the ominous gray darkness of the storm quickly swallowed up the day's remaining sunlight. Below them, looming dangerously close, the deep black depths of the ocean were simmering and seething with bitter violence.
Everyone in the saddle held on for dear life, as the storm gathered momentum and the wind grew rapidly fiercer and more determined to pick them all up and toss them into the sea. Toph, Little Ursa, and Momo huddled close together under a blanket, clinging to one another just as much as to the saddle. The elder Ursa – still unfortunately quite new to the experience of flying, and not much enjoying it at the moment – was crouched low in the back of the saddle, teeth clenched, arms trembling. And Yonten, regardless of his previous anger at her, now held onto his adoptive aunt protectively, trying to squint through the wall of sudden rain battering his face.
Meanwhile, Katara was crouched by Iroh's side, with the old man nestled down flat in the saddle and wincing at each of Appa's sudden lurches. Only a few minutes before, when everything had been deceptively calm, Uncle had complained that some of his lingering pains were beginning to trouble him again. But Katara hadn't gotten a chance to finish checking him and making sure he wasn't having a serious relapse, before they'd blundered right into the hurricane. She was now busily attempting to finish healing him, despite the storm, but it made her progress slow and difficult.
"Are you okay, Uncle?" she asked, shouting at him over the noise of the tempest.
He grimaced, as Appa gave an especially rough pitch. "Well, I don't think I'm going to die yet!" was his grim reply, after a moment of consideration.
"Let's not talk about dying, please!" Toph growled. She already had enough trouble just being separated from the ground. Being away from the ground – far away from it – in the middle of a storm only made matters a hundred times worse.
"Katara!" Sokka bellowed, shivering in the pounding rain. "Do you think you could help us out a bit?"
"What?" she shouted back at him.
"Could you make us a little safety bubble or something?" he roared. "We'd all really appreciate it!"
"I'm kinda busy!" she yelled impatiently.
"Hey, Uncle's not gonna get any better if we all die in the storm!" Sokka argued, also aggravated.
"Again," Toph roared fiercely, "can we NOT talk about dying! Please!"
"Katara, seriously, a water shield would be really, really helpful right now!" Sokka went on, giving his sister a severe look over his shoulder. "I mean, I would do it, but you know…"
Katara growled in frustration, slipping her healing water hastily back into its usual pouch at her waist, and rising to her feet, attempting to position herself as sturdily as she could in the swaying saddle in order to make a stable shield for them. Rapidly sweeping her arms above her head in a broad, circular movement, she gathered up the rain that was pummeling them, manipulating it into a solid sphere of water. Then she stretched her arms straight out, palms up, jaw set in firm concentration, and adjusted the water sphere, widening it out so that it encompassed everyone – bison and all – enclosing them all in a quiet, relatively dry bubble.
"Sorry, Uncle," she muttered irritably. "You're just gonna have to wait a little while."
"It's fine!" he said quickly. "I'd prefer all of us to get through the storm first."
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have Katara's water shield to keep out the wind and the rain. But although the sphere did solidify enough to shut out the storm, for the most part, it refused to be completely stable for some reason. Katara could feel it, in her arms, in the fibers of her muscles – it wasn't strong at all. She guessed that no one else could tell the difference, but she definitely could: the entire shield was shaky, ready to fall apart at any moment, despite all her efforts to fortify it and hold it steady. She focused all her energy on the task of waterbending, waving her arms hastily, fighting to maintain it, struggling to make it stronger. But she was having a strangely difficult time, and her teeth clenched with the exertion, and she felt her limbs shuddering as if they were made out of brittle, rotten wood.
What was wrong with her? Why did she feel so drained? She never felt this weak – never. Was she getting sick or something? Why was her balance so off today?
Oh – of course. She hadn't slept half the night before, and had barely slept the few days before that. Well, that certainly didn't help matters at all, did it?
It just figures, she thought sourly. Of all the days they had to run into a storm, it would be today, when she was weak from sleep deprivation and stress. And now, of course, Uncle looked like he was regressing – perhaps his injuries were opening up again, or maybe something else was wrong with him that she'd missed before, or he might have gotten an infection somehow without her knowing… She wasn't sure what was wrong with him. But whatever the case, it was definitely the worst possible time for him to have a relapse.
But she couldn't help him now, no matter how urgent it was. Because they all needed their stupid safety bubble, to keep out the stupid storm.
Why am I stuck being the only Waterbender in this group? Why do I have to do everything?
Almost immediately, her thoughts began to wander to Aang, as they always seemed to do, like a stream following the inevitable guidance of gravity. Everything came back to Aang. If Aang was there with her now, he could have made the water shield to protect them, and then she would have been free to take care of Iroh. Or, if nothing else, he could have helped hold up the shield along with her, made sure it was strong enough to get them through… But no. She had to do everything, on her own. It would have been so much easier, if only Aang was with her. But he wasn't.
Katara faltered – the sphere of water rippled and wavered and fell apart, and everyone was instantly pounded by a merciless gush of rain and wind.
"Katara!" they all shouted simultaneously.
"Sorry!" she screamed, grinding her teeth and hastily struggling to sweep up a new shield around them.
"Could you keep it up, please, if it's not too much trouble?" Sokka bellowed at her, with a biting attitude that only made Katara even more enraged. "The thing about a safety bubble is that it needs to keep existing!"
"Would you leave me alone?" she snarled at him. "I'm doing my best, all right? I'm not the one who flew us straight into a hurricane!"
"Guys, I really don't think this is a good time to have a fight," Toph remarked.
"Yes, I think there are more important things to focus on at the moment!" Yonten agreed fervently, still clutching the elder Ursa in his arms as he peered nervously over the side of the saddle. "Such as – why is the ocean getting closer to us?!"
"Oh no," Sokka cried.
"What? What is it?" everyone yelled at him at once.
"Appa's going down!" he screamed, pulling up hard on the reins. "No, no, no, Appa! Don't do this! Come on – don't give up now!"
Appa groaned with fatigue and fright, wavering perilously as he flew, so that all the passengers in his saddle slipped and swayed. Katara fought to keep her balance, swinging her arms with frantic energy to keep up the sphere of protective water around them. The ocean, indeed, was far too close for comfort, and growing steadily nearer. All of them clung to the saddle, screaming, and felt their hearts jump into their throats as Appa began to plummet more steeply.
Suddenly, the bison's feet grazed the surface of the thrashing ocean, jolting everyone violently. Katara slipped and fell, and the water shield went down with her once again. She nearly tumbled out of the saddle entirely, but fortunately the elder Ursa caught her by the arm and pulled her back in. With their safety bubble gone, the storm battered them with increased maliciousness; and Appa skimmed along the sea's rough surface, grunting and wobbling precariously. Sokka pulled back on the reins with all his might, practically standing on the bison's head in the effort. Reluctantly, Appa at last pushed himself a little higher into the air, away from the ocean – but he groaned again, miserably. He was completely exhausted.
"This is bad!" Sokka shouted.
"You think so?" Toph shrieked, furious with terror.
"I knew this was a bad idea! I knew it!" Sokka roared, overcome with desperate frustration and fear. "Appa's not used to carrying this many people!"
"I thought you said he'd be okay!" Katara thundered back at him, struggling to get her footing again and make another water shield for them as quickly as she could.
"Yeah, well, maybe I wasn't a hundred percent sure, okay!" he growled back at her. "I wasn't really counting on being pummeled by a hurricane!"
"It's my fault!" the elder Ursa cried, with bitter regret. "It's because of me – he was fine until I joined the group! I shouldn't have come at all – "
"It's nobody's fault!" Katara argued sternly, giving the older woman a serious look. "And it won't do any good to blame ourselves, or anyone else! We're gonna get through this – all of us, together!"
Suddenly, without warning, Katara's sleep-deprived head began to spin, and she swayed, and her water shield wavered dangerously. Every single one of her muscles quivered with fatigue. She blinked frantically, shaking her head, fighting to maintain her balance.
Not now, she ordered herself. Don't fall apart now. Keep yourself together.
"Sokka, we need to find somewhere to land!" Toph yelled.
"Yeah, well, Toph, if you see any place that looks comfy, you let me know!" Sokka snarled.
"That's not funny!"
"I wasn't trying to be funny!"
"We should head for the eye of the storm!" Uncle shouted at Sokka. "If we get somewhere calm, then at least maybe Appa can land safely in the water."
"Maybe we can lighten the load somehow?" Yonten suggested desperately. "Is there anything we can throw out?"
Sokka clenched his teeth, grimacing. "I don't know… Throw Momo overboard!"
"NO!" Little Ursa protested, clutching the old lemur close to her protectively.
"Oh, calm down!" Toph scowled irritably. "No one's gonna throw Momo overboard."
Yonten was already making himself busy, looking through the packs of supplies tied to the saddle. The elder Ursa cautiously crawled over to help him.
"Katara!" Yonten shouted. "Can we let go of these supplies? It may help with the weight… Katara?"
Katara appeared to have not even heard him, although he was right beside her and shouting at the top of his lungs. She was still swaying her arms, keeping up the water shield, but she moved mechanically, as if she were in a trance. Her eyes stared straight forward, out into the storm, hypnotized by something in the distance – her gaze was wide, bewildered and deeply unsettled.
"Katara!" Yonten bellowed again, louder, rising to his feet beside her and staring at her with concern.
"Are you all right, Katara?" Iroh shouted from down at her feet.
"Do you see something?" the elder Ursa asked her anxiously.
Katara didn't reply, to any of them. She only blinked, and shook her head fiercely, trying to throw off the strange vision in her eyes. She could have sworn she saw something, flying through the storm beside them. But it couldn't be! That was impossible! What could possibly be flying out in the storm?
Yet – no, there it was again! She was sure she saw it! A person – it was a person.
Was it? Yes! A person flying with a glider, darting erratically through the wind and rain, keeping pace with Appa at a close distance. An Airbender. An Airbender.
No – an Airbender? No – no! There was no way! She squinted, struggling to see more clearly, but the rain obscured her sight, and everything looked hazy and blurry through the wall of her water shield.
Her heart thudded frantically.
Aang. It was Aang.
She knew it was him. She didn't even have to see him clearly. She just knew – she knew it with a certainty that chilled the marrow in her bones.
Her head pulsed in dizzy confusion.
I'm seeing things… Katara's thoughts tumbled over themselves. No – he's not really there. He can't be. I'm seeing things.
"Katara!" she heard Yonten yelling at her anxiously. "What's wrong? What do you see?"
Katara was barely breathing. She shook her head again, more fiercely, as an icy shudder passed through her body. When she looked out again, the unnerving vision was gone. There was no one there.
"Nothing," she muttered. "I don't see anything. Sorry – what were you asking me?"
"Are you all right?" he asked her, his eyes flickering with worry.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she snapped, rather defensively. "What did you want?"
Yonten hesitated, but, sensing her defensiveness, he didn't push the issue. "I was wondering how much of the supplies we can afford to lose? To lighten the load a bit?"
She blinked fiercely yet again, turning her gaze inward for a moment, and then shook her head once more – too flustered to give his question much thought. "All of it," she finally blurted. "Just throw it all away. We'll worry about getting more supplies once we're out of the storm."
"Just not my Space Sword!" Sokka added urgently.
Needing no further permission, the elder Ursa immediately began to throw their packs over the edge of the saddle. The supplies tumbled through the air, passing through Katara's water shield with a meek splash and vanishing into the choppy waves below. Toph and Little Ursa quickly began to help with throwing things overboard.
"Or my seal jerky!" Sokka shouted after a moment.
"Oh… I think that was in the bag I just threw out," Little Ursa said sheepishly. "Sorry!"
Sokka sighed mournfully. "Oh, well. That's all right. It's not important."
"Katara," Yonten said, still studying her carefully, "is there any way I can help you?"
"No, I'm fine," was her hasty, sharp reply. But even as she spoke, she wobbled dizzily, and a shuddering ripple passed throughout her water shield, from top to bottom.
The Airbender didn't say anything else, but he watched her for a moment, furrowing his brow. Then, with a solemn, decisive frown, he stepped across the saddle up near Appa's head, shifting his feet into the firmest stance he could manage. And, inhaling deeply, he threw his arms forward. A gust of air burst out of him, nearly blowing Sokka over for a moment. The air spiraled forward, past Appa's head, puncturing through Katara's bubble of water and tossing all the rainwater away from them in every direction. Everyone's hair and clothes blew wildly around in the wind, but otherwise his air shield worked nearly as well as Katara's water shield.
"I can keep this up for a few minutes," he shouted to Katara over the noise of the wind. "Just rest for a while. We'll take turns, all right?"
Katara lowered her weary arms, and for a brief instant, a grateful smile passed across her features. Then she slumped down into the saddle and sighed with exhaustion, massaging her aching eyelids. A headache was beginning to take shape in the crevices of her skull, and she still felt dizzy and unbalanced. But at least she'd been given a small respite.
"Well, whatever works!" Sokka shrugged. "I'm gonna try to head for the eye of the storm. You guys keep dumping out whatever you can. Hopefully Appa will make it a little bit farther."
Blinking heavily, Katara glanced at Iroh. "How are you doing, Uncle? I can try to get back to healing you now, if you want. At least until Yonten's air shield wears out."
But he just shook his head, scrutinizing her with an odd look, as if he understood something about her that she didn't herself.
"No," he said. "I'll be fine for now. Just take a rest. You look like you need one."
She stared at him a moment, her mind meandering away from her, and then she yawned, rubbing her entire face with defiant vigor. Appa swayed and moaned, sounding just as exhausted as she was, and he continued intermittently dipping toward the ocean and rising up again with feeble determination as they flew. Meanwhile, Katara let her eyes roam back out into the falling rain beyond the air shield. Now and then she caught more glimpses again of the same disconcertingly familiar figure, gliding through the storm beside them. But she would blink, and he'd flicker in and out of existence. At last she merely closed her eyes, so that they couldn't play any more such cruel tricks on her.
There's nothing there, she told herself firmly. You're okay. You're just tired. You've got to keep yourself together.
Zuko solemnly watched the sky. The storm had nearly overtaken the ship within the next hour or so, despite their efforts to dodge it. Night had fallen officially by now, and in the impenetrable darkness, the spurts of lightning in the distance took on a new level of sinister menace. The wind was colder now, and more agitated than before. But the rain had yet to start falling, and so Zuko, Suki and Tenzin still sat out on the deck, against the railing of the bow – refusing to abandon the relative safety of the open space until they had no other choice.
Zuko yawned broadly. Suki had fallen asleep, her previous wild energy having quickly burned itself out. Tenzin was leaning against her, fidgeting now, boiling with his own wild energy.
"Tenzin," Zuko murmured, holding his hand out to the restless little boy. "Come sit next to me for a while." He didn't want Tenzin to wake up Suki; she hadn't handled the loss of sleep well, and he wanted her to be able to rest, at least for a little while. He could stay awake while she slept. He'd just make sure to wake her up if he felt himself drifting off.
Tenzin scooted over to Zuko and slouched against the railing beside him. Unlike both of the adults, he was now wide awake, brimming with bottled-up energy. Zuko wasn't sure where the boy's sudden burst of restlessness had come from – he wondered if perhaps it was a side effect of the constant fear that they'd been living in for nearly two days now. Perhaps Tenzin had slipped over some threshold, finally resorting to hyperactive distraction as a defense mechanism against the fear.
Or perhaps it was simply the fact that Tenzin was five, and thus naturally bursting with energy anyway.
Perhaps it was a combination of both, along with the strangeness of the situation in general. The little Airbender had managed to get quite a bit more sleep in the past couple of days than any of the adults on the ship, despite the terrors of their situation – partially because it was all out of his control, and he only barely understood what was going on, and partially because no one had made any effort to keep him from sleeping. He was young: he needed sleep much more than they did. And as long as they were awake to protect him, there was no reason he shouldn't be able to rest when he needed it.
But he didn't look like he was going to rest now. Just when Zuko would have really appreciated it.
Tenzin sat beside Zuko, crunching his legs up to his chest, then stretching them out straight, then crossing them over one another. He scratched his head and rubbed his nose and pulled his hands anxiously up inside of his sleeves, clicking his tongue and letting his eyes wander in all directions.
Zuko yawned again.
"Can we go for a walk, Zuko?"
"No, Tenzin. Not right now."
"Can I walk around by myself?"
"No," Zuko said sternly, giving him a fierce look. "You're not going anywhere by yourself. You should know better than that. It's too dangerous. Just sit still, all right? We'll walk around later."
Tenzin just sighed impatiently, unleashing a slow, irritable gust of wind from his lungs.
Zuko glanced up at the sky. The storm hovered over the sea, almost invisible in the darkness of night, blurring the horizon away into impenetrable blackness. Now and then sharp cracks of lightning split the sky, shedding light on both the sea and the clouds, revealing how dangerously near the storm really was. The air was heavy, and smelled of impending rain. Zuko might have been imagining it, but it looked as if the storm were hanging right over the stern of the ship itself, stalking them.
He could only hope it was farther away than it looked.
"When are we getting to the North Pole?" Tenzin asked.
"I don't think we're gonna go to the North Pole after all," Zuko replied wearily. "It's too far away, and we don't want to bring Azula there with us."
"Why can't someone just catch Azula?" Tenzin demanded. "I mean, how can it be so hard to find her on the boat? She can't go anywhere else!"
Zuko sighed. "She's too smart to get caught."
"Would we go to the North Pole if someone caught her?"
"I don't know, Tenzin. Yeah, probably, I guess."
"Well, where are we going now?"
Zuko just sighed again, wishing Tenzin would give him a few moments of silence. "I don't know, Tenzin," he said again. "Just somewhere out of the way of that big storm. We don't want to get stuck in it."
"What'll happen if we do?"
"It'll be bad. Really bad."
"Why? What'll happen?"
"Tenzin – I don't know what might happen. But we don't want to find out, so we're trying to get away from it. We'll figure out where we're actually going once we're safe from the storm."
"Maybe momma's flying in the storm right now," Tenzin slumped lower, sliding down the rail until he was nearly flat on his back, lifting the hem of his shirt up and down restlessly. "Maybe she'll come, with Uncle Sokka and Appa, and take us to the North Pole with them."
"Your mom's not in the storm, Tenzin. She's probably pretty far away from here."
"Do you think she's in the North Pole already?"
Zuko only sighed a third time. "I don't know. Maybe. I'm sure she's close, at least. It takes a while to get there, though."
"But she left a really long time ago," the boy argued, pulling his three favorite marbles out of his pockets and twirling them absent-mindedly on a little spiral of air. "She's been gone for a long time. I bet she's already there. She has to be, unless she went really slow, and I don't think she'd go very slow, because she said she'd come home by the Solstice. And I think it's almost the Solstice now. Is it the Solstice yet, Zuko?"
"No."
"Is it tomorrow?"
"No, it's not for another week and a half, I think."
"Hmph." Tenzin frowned. "Well, anyway, I bet she's there. Maybe she's already brought daddy back and everything!"
Zuko grimaced slightly, and didn't reply. It wasn't so much the idea that Katara had already brought Aang back that made him wince – Zuko doubted that she'd gotten that far yet. It was more that… Well, Zuko still couldn't help but flinch every time he heard Tenzin call Aang "daddy." It was just so… odd, to hear the word come out of the boy's mouth, especially in reference to Aang. After all, Tenzin still had yet to even meet Aang. Only a month ago, Tenzin hadn't even known that he was related to Aang at all, much less that Aang was his father. Yet he'd taken to using the word so quickly, without question, just throwing it around unwarranted. Carelessly.
What had Aang done to deserve that title? Other than simply contributing to Tenzin's being brought into the world in the first place. But was that really enough? Did he really deserve it, after being entirely absent from Tenzin's life?
Zuko frowned at himself, shaking his head, perplexed by his own bitter chain of thoughts. Why was he letting such a small thing get to him this way? Why shouldn't Tenzin call Aang "daddy"? – Aang was his dad, after all. So why did it make Zuko feel so… almost… angry at Aang about it, every time the word slipped out of Tenzin's mouth? As if it were some privilege that Aang hadn't earned. But Aang could hardly help the fact that he hadn't been in Tenzin's life thus far. How could he have possibly earned anything? How could Zuko hold that against him?
Nevertheless, Zuko couldn't repress the resentment stirring within him. The fact that he knew he was being unfair to Aang didn't make him stop feeling bitter; it only added guilt on top of everything else.
"Maybe momma and daddy are already on their way back home, with Uncle Sokka," Tenzin went on, spinning his marbles carelessly, ignorant of Zuko's inner turmoil. "Maybe we'll see them flying on the way back. We could. And when we all get back home, then we can all live together. And daddy can teach me how to fly, and we'll go penguin sledding – d'you know what penguin sledding is, Zuko? It's where people ride penguins down a big hill. Momma told me about it. I didn't believe it, because it sounds silly, but it's true. Momma says it's pretty fun. Daddy used to go penguin sledding with momma back a long time ago. Did you ever go penguin sledding, Zuko? Me and Daddy and momma will all go together, and you should come too, and Ursa can come too – "
Zuko flinched again at the mention of his daughter's name. Lightning cracked in the sky, echoing the sound of his heart.
" – And it'll be fun, and we'll do lots of stuff together," Tenzin rambled on, relentlessly. "And since Daddy's the Avatar, he'll make sure Azula won't bother us anymore. He'll fix everything. I bet he'll make his eyes and arrows go all glowy. And then him and Momma will get married, like they're supposed to, and maybe I'll get a little brother, and – "
"Tenzin," Zuko rasped severely, unable to bear any more of this. "Could you please be quiet for a little while?"
Tenzin looked up at Zuko in confusion, clearly rather indignant and injured. But the stern tone of Zuko's voice silenced him, and he didn't say anything else – merely pushed himself back up into a sitting position, leaned against the ship's railing, and unleashed a heavy, impatient sigh, spinning his marbles on the air around his fingers.
Zuko closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the railing, also sighing wearily. A fierce battle was raging within him, and he struggled to smother it, but his spirit felt as ominously stormy as those looming clouds behind them. The distant thunder sent small vibrations through the ship, and Zuko distracted himself for a moment by wondering where Azula was. Then he wondered where Katara was, and whether she'd thought about him at all since she left him back in the Fire Nation. Then he wondered if Suki was having a nice sleep.
He breathed, envious of all the other people on the planet who had the luxury of sleeping right now. He listened to Suki's even breathing, and regretted that he wasn't able to join her. Not now. Not yet. Maybe later… Later he'd get some sleep…
"Hey, Zuko. You okay?"
Zuko jolted, startled at that voice – no, startled wasn't strong enough a word – maybe shocked, or dumbfounded, or knocked utterly senseless. Where did he know that voice from? – Did he? – Yes! Of course he knew it! He just hadn't heard it in five years…
He looked up, and there, sitting near him, glancing down at him with an expression of mild, uneasy concern, was the Airbender who owned the voice. The bald, lanky, big-eared, bright-eyed kid himself. Exactly the way he'd looked last time Zuko had seen him, when he was only – how old? – fifteen? sixteen? – something like that. For a moment, Zuko could manage to do nothing else but gape at him, mouth dangling open in shock.
"Aang?" he choked.
"Hey," Aang replied, furrowing his brow at him, and asking again, "You okay, Zuko?"
Just the sight of the long-lost Avatar instantly caused Zuko a melee of strange emotions. His first impulse was, oddly, to attack him – as if Zuko had instantly reverted into being fifteen or sixteen himself. His second impulse was simply to laugh – not because he was happy or amused, but because… just because. After that came a variety of urges to yell at him, hug him, hit him, yell at him again, order him to leave, offer him tea, capture him, hurt him in some way or another, yell at him some more, and apologize.
But Zuko didn't do any of that. He just continued to gape at Aang, helplessly, and finally demanded, "What are you doing here?"
"I just wanted to check up on you," Aang said, leaning against his knees and scrutinizing Zuko worriedly. "I heard you were kinda going through a hard time. So… is everything all right?"
At last, recovering from the shock of seeing Aang there, Zuko managed to look around at the scenery for the first time, and suddenly realized that they were both in a forest – an unknown, yet somehow slightly familiar forest, thick with trees that stretched up narrow and tall toward the sky. Dusty golden light filtered through the branches, and it felt like morning. Zuko was lying on the ground, flat on his back, staring up at Aang, who was sitting on a thick tree root above him. Although it all made Zuko feel dazed and disoriented, and he wondered where they were and how they'd got there, he never thought to ask Aang. He was sure he'd remember it on his own, or figure it out. In fact, this place – and the way the two of them were sitting right now – all felt like something he'd already experienced once in his life, but he just couldn't yet recall when or where.
So, rather than questioning any of it, Zuko merely pushed himself up off the ground, slouching against another tree root at his back, and gathered his knees up to himself. Aang kept watching him, but Zuko wouldn't look at him. He shut his eyes instead, trying to bottle in his stormy emotions, and scowled.
"No," Zuko muttered at last, rather bitterly. "Everything's not all right. Nothing's all right. But I can handle it."
Aang studied him gravely. "Did you want to talk about it?"
For a moment, Zuko didn't reply. He just seethed, and set his jaw stubbornly. 'Not to you, no. Not really."
"Well, I'm the only one here, so – "
"Yeah, well, I didn't ask you to come check up on me, Aang."
Aang hesitated. "I just want to help – "
"You can't help," Zuko snapped, boiling with a thousand sharp griefs, angers, regrets and resentments that he barely understood. "You're pretty much the last person I want to talk to right now. So, I think you should probably just leave me alone."
They were both silent for a while, and the forest morning chirped and clicked tranquilly around them. Zuko stared intently at the ground, determined that he was going to drive Aang away merely by giving him the cold shoulder. Zuko was already having enough trouble handling his feelings regarding Azula, and Katara, and Uncle and Ursa – he couldn't deal with Aang right now on top of that. It would be easier to just snub the Airbender until he left him alone.
Aang stared at him for a while, but after a few minutes, he turned his eyes away as well, sighing heavily. Zuko wondered hopefully if that sigh meant he was about to give up and leave. And yet – bafflingly – Zuko also suddenly worried that Aang would actually leave. Guilt and remorse stirred within him prematurely, anticipating it – anticipating how sorry Zuko would feel if he did succeed in driving Aang away.
But luckily (or maybe unluckily), Aang didn't leave yet.
"Look, Zuko," he finally said, "I don't know why you're so mad at me. But, I think there are some pretty important things we need to talk about, don't you?"
"Like what?" Zuko muttered.
"You tell me."
Now Zuko finally conceded to look at him, glowering at him bitterly. "I don't have anything to say to you right now."
Aang gave him a frustrated, bewildered frown. "You seem like you have a lot to say to me, actually. But you just don't want to deal with it. Seriously, what's going on? I don't understand. What did I do to make you so upset at me?"
Zuko just scoffed. "What did you do!"
"Zuko, what did I do?"
Zuko didn't reply, because he wasn't entirely sure what to say. He thought about several possible answers, but none of them felt right, and most of them didn't make any sense at all. So, to hide the fact that he had no real answer to Aang's question, he only scowled and shook his head in exasperation.
"What?" Aang demanded. "You're acting like I should already know!"
At last, overcome with a fury he couldn't explain, Zuko burst to life – with swift energy, he punched his fist in Aang's direction, hurling a vicious stream of fire at him. Aang sprang nimbly out of the way, perching in the branches of the tree above Zuko's head.
Almost uncontrollably, Zuko leaped to his feet and, arms quivering, threw another fireball at him, forcing Aang to flutter away to a different tree.
"You want to know why I'm mad?" Zuko roared, pursuing Aang through the forest and flinging fire as he went. "You really want to know?"
"Why are you mad?" Aang shouted down at him, leaping between trees as Zuko's fire blasts came flying at him mercilessly.
"Because – !" His feet stumbled over the uneven forest ground as he chased Aang, and his words stumbled over themselves as he fought to sort out his own mind. "Because – I don't know! For lots of reasons!"
"But what did I do?" Aang asked again, bounding away as Zuko hurled yet another jet of fire at him.
"What did you do? You disappeared! That's what you did!"
"But I didn't do it on purpose – !"
"You just disappeared – how could you do that?" Zuko went on, overwhelmed with his irrational rage, throwing attacks at Aang with increased fury and not caring at all whether his anger was reasonable. "How could you do that? You just abandoned everyone! And you know who had to replace you, Aang? Huh?"
"Zuko – !"
"I did! I had to replace you! I didn't want to – I didn't ask for this! I just got stuck with it! I've had to do everything! I had to take care of the world without you – do you think that was easy? I've had to be Tenzin's dad, because he didn't have one! And I had to be Katara's… you. That was the worst. She needed you! They both did! But you weren't there, so I had to take care of them instead!"
"No one asked you to – !"
"I didn't have a choice!" Zuko thundered, leaping over a fallen log almost automatically. His body was basically running itself now, chasing Aang through the forest and attacking him on its own, while Zuko's mind was busy screaming. "But you know what? It doesn't matter! Nothing I do matters! No matter what I do, for either of them, it doesn't make a difference, because I'm not you – !"
"Zuko, calm down!" Aang ordered him fiercely, springing out of the way of another burst of flames from Zuko's trembling fists.
They'd run quite far through the forest now, Aang leaping through the branches, Zuko struggling to keep pace with him over the tangled, uneven forest floor. Although Zuko was flinging fire at Aang relentlessly, none of his attacks ever came close to hitting the Airbender. Perhaps Aang was too quick, or Zuko's anger threw off his aim. Or, perhaps, something inside of Zuko was purposefully holding him back from actually trying to hit Aang.
"No! I'm not gonna calm down!" Zuko roared, clambering wildly over the roots and ridges of the forest floor as he pursued Aang through the trees. He was so inundated with fury, grief, bitterness, guilt, and unbearable pain, that he could hardly manage to keep his balance as he ran.
"You're not thinking clearly!" Aang shouted. "If you'd just – "
"I don't care!" Zuko cried. "I've got nothing left, Aang! Understand? Nothing! My mom's never coming back – I lost Mai – and now Uncle and Ursa are gone too! They're gone! What am I supposed to do without them? I've got nothing now! The only people I have left are Katara and Tenzin – except they're not even mine! They're yours! Katara doesn't want me – she'll never want me – and Tenzin's never gonna think of me as his dad, even though that's basically what I am! And it's your fault! All of it – it's all because of you!"
His fury rose to a kind of climax, and in the throes of wild rage, Zuko hurled an especially ferocious explosion in Aang's direction. It missed its mark rather egregiously, and the force of it caused Zuko to lose his balance. He stumbled, tripping over a tree root, and fell flat on his face, simmering and quivering and hurting – just hurting, all the way through. Everything was spinning, and when he looked up again, he found that they'd somehow circled all the way back to the forest clearing where they'd begun, and Aang had drifted back down to the ground. He stood before him, placidly, gazing at Zuko with mournful solemnity.
"I'm sorry, Zuko," Aang said softly. "This isn't how I wanted things to turn out either, you know. But I'm here now. I won't run away from you anymore. So, if you want to hit me, go ahead. I'll take it."
Zuko could only lie there on the ground for a moment, face in the dirt, quaking with the sharp, raw pain, burning with the unfairness of it all. He kept lying there, for several moments. He didn't really want to hit Aang – he didn't. He didn't want to chase Aang away, or hurt him. He wanted to let it all go – he wanted to stop being angry – he wanted to be friends with Aang. He wanted to be friends again, like they used to be, like they were supposed to be. He hated feeling this way; it shouldn't have been like this.
Yet, despite himself – despite being fully aware that he truly didn't want to attack Aang – Zuko still lurched suddenly up off the ground and launched a violent torrent of crackling red flames at the Airbender. And Aang, just as he'd promised, stood there and took it.
When the flames subsided, Zuko gaped, breathing heavily. Aang was gone. The forest was silent.
A sudden icy horror washed over him. Zuko stumbled to his feet, reeling dizzily, and scanned the tree branches frantically, expecting to see Aang up there, leaping away to safety. But Aang wasn't in the branches – he wasn't anywhere – he was gone.
Zuko's stomach churned with dread. What had he done? Why had he done that? Where was Aang? Had he killed him? No – no, he couldn't have. Had he hurt him? He must have – there was no way Aang could have taken such an attack, at such close range, without being injured.
But where was he?
Snarling with frustration and remorse, Zuko collapsed to his knees, holding his head and tearing his fingers frantically through his hair. Why had he done that? Why had he attacked him? He hadn't wanted to – yet he'd done it anyway! How could he do that to Aang? It wasn't Aang's fault. Everything that Zuko was so angry about, everything that was hurting him right now – none of that was Aang's fault. Aang hadn't had anything to do with it. Aang was only incidental. Easy to blame, but guiltless. And Aang was his friend, one of his closest friends. How could he have done that to him? What was wrong with him? What kind of horrible person was he?
And now Aang was just gone. Maybe he was truly gone, forever. No one would ever see him again.
If he was…
If Aang was gone… gone for good…
Then Katara would be free. She would no longer be so hopelessly attached to Aang, beyond the ability to let go, the way she was now. She'd be free to attach herself to someone else. She'd be free to love Zuko, the way he wanted her to love him. And Tenzin might finally start calling Zuko "daddy," instead of Aang – the way Zuko felt he deserved.
But those thoughts didn't make Zuko feel relieved, or triumphant, or satisfied. They only left him feeling sick and miserable. Sick with guilt – because Zuko had let his own selfishness take over him, and now Aang was gone, and both Katara and Tenzin would be deprived of him. Miserable with self-loathing – because the first thing to come to Zuko's mind after realizing Aang was gone was the idea that he could now keep Katara and Tenzin to himself, and he was disgusted at himself for even thinking that.
It wasn't fair. None of it. It just wasn't fair.
"You know what the worst part about being born over a hundred years ago is?"
For the second time, Zuko jolted in surprise at the sound of Aang's voice. He whirled around, heart pounding, and saw Aang standing there in the clearing behind him: perfectly fine, unscathed, gazing at him pensively.
"Aang?" Zuko gasped, frowning. "You're okay?" Oddly – despite Zuko's deep grief and remorse only moments before, the sight of the Airbender standing there, without a single injury, made Zuko feel instantly annoyed again. But, even still, Zuko had completely lost the urge to attack him.
Aang turned away from Zuko, leaning against a tree and staring thoughtfully at nothing.
"You know what the worst part about being born over a hundred years ago is?" he asked again, as if he were reciting a line in a play, and were waiting for Zuko to say his part.
All at once, Zuko remembered where he'd seen this forest before.
"You miss your old friends," Zuko replied, finishing Aang's thought.
Aang nodded quietly.
"I remember you telling me that before," Zuko said, "last time we were both here in this place, about eight years ago, after I saved you from Zhao – "
"I saved you too, if you recall," Aang added, in a rather ironic tone. "Even after you threatened to kill me, to make me reincarnate."
"I remember that," Zuko sighed, nodding wearily. "You dragged me off into the forest after I got shot, and stayed here till I woke up, and then started rambling on about some old friend of yours. I remember. That was when you asked if I thought we could have been friends too."
Aang's mouth twitched with a small, rather sad smile. "Yeah. And you just threw a bunch of fire at me that time, too."
Zuko remembered. He remembered the immediate, bewildering regret he'd felt then, as he'd watched Aang leap away into the trees. He'd just stood there, even long after Aang had vanished from sight: wondering why he felt no urge to go after Aang and capture him, as he usually did; wondering why Aang had gone through the trouble of saving his life; wondering, most of all, what might have had happened if he hadn't thrown a bunch of fire at Aang and chased him away.
Aang sighed. "I kinda hoped we'd gotten past all this a long time ago, Zuko. This thing of you attacking me." He looked at Zuko, with heavy sorrow. "I thought we were friends."
Zuko hesitated, and realized that all his anger had completely drained out of him, leaving him feeling thoroughly dry and empty and, almost, ashamed of himself.
"We are friends," he muttered at last, also sighing. "It's just… things are complicated."
Aang didn't reply. He kept his gaze fixed thoughtfully on Zuko. A soft rain suddenly began to fall through the forest. The cold raindrops battered Zuko's skin, and he shivered.
Zuko just shook his head, exhausted and confused by his own warring emotions. "I'm sorry I attacked you."
"It's okay," Aang said. "At least you got it out of your system."
Zuko scoffed softly.
"Can I ask you a question, though?"
He looked at Aang. "What?"
Aang's eyes suddenly flickered with urgency. "Do you know where my son is?"
The rain fell harder.
Zuko furrowed his brow, bewildered and taken aback. That was the last question he'd expected from Aang at the moment. Somehow, in this forest, where he and Aang had spoken years ago – while they'd been busy reminiscing about the past – it had slipped Zuko's mind momentarily that Tenzin even existed.
"Uh," Zuko stammered, squinting at Aang through the heavily falling rain. "Tenzin –?"
"Do you know where he is, Zuko?" Aang repeated his question sternly. "Weren't you keeping an eye on him for me?"
Zuko shook his head dizzily, struggling to realign himself with reality. "Yeah… I was. He, uh – well, he was with me just a few minutes ago – "
"But he's not anymore," Aang informed him hastily, as thunder cracked above them. Aang came and knelt before Zuko, staring him gravely in the eye. "It's time for you to wake up now, Zuko. Glad we were able to have this talk – you needed it, I think. But you've got to go. Get up and go find Tenzin! Now!"
Zuko lurched back to consciousness, stomach churning.
The storm had caught up with the ship at last. Sharp, icy raindrops fell with rapidly escalating ferocity, spearing Zuko's flesh. Suki was still asleep beside him, mumbling and restlessly stirring back to wakefulness herself.
All was dark. The wind howled. Soldiers darted about, shouting at one another. The ship reeled and groaned.
Zuko took all this in in a second, and instantly knew something was missing. His heart stopped beating.
Tenzin was gone.
