"It's gone."

"You're sure?"

Katara would roll her eyes at him but neither of them are ready to go back to their relatively normal emotional states. She's trying to busy herself, trying to forget about the way her son had looked at her before grabbing Azula's arm and walking away into the sunrise, trying to forget how she'd just stood there and watched him leave. They both had.

Something had tied her to the ground in that instant and frozen her feet, hadn't let her complete her sentence. Of course she loves her son — she doesn't know how he could ever doubt her. But her words had died on her lips when she'd realized that it didn't matter how either of them felt. Kaz had already made his decision.

And her heart aches but she's strong, so she'd finished the battle and ran to Zuya and Ty Lee and left Zuko to stop his sister. But she hadn't expected to see the broken look on his face when he started talking to them, like every word Kaz was saying was tearing him apart. Her son's eyes were cold and his posture was straight and he was a stranger.

She should have reached out, should have fought Azula, should have — should have done anything. But she hadn't and he'd walked through the gates and they'd just stood there in the rising light for a minute until Ty Lee and Zuya walked up next to them and the concussed woman noted that they should plan to leave the city or at least go into hiding.

Zuko is going through Kaz's room, throwing random items of his into one of the sacks they'd brought from the tea shop. He pokes his head up from behind the door frame, his eyes solemn, as he takes in the terrified expression on her face. "Where—where could it have gone?"

"I don't know," she groans, and that feeling — the realization that she thought she knew but she didn't and she still doesn't — makes her choke on the tears she's been holding back. They need to leave immediately, need to make their way out of the city, need to leave everything they've built up. She can't do this. She just lost her baby and she's going to lose this home and everything she's built up so carefully. They can't take their things, can't take the murals on the walls or the delicate glass Zuko blows outside, can't take all of Kazou and Zuya's stuffed animals, can't take all the memories she's built here. They need to leave, and she knows this, but it still burns. "We couldn't have lost it. Could we have?"

"Is your necklace still there?"

She holds up the water tribe pendant clutched in her fist, her grandmother's betrothal necklace. It reminds her of Pakku, of Kanna, of Hakoda and Kya, all the people she's tried to forget. "It's here."

"Then I . . . do you think . . ."

Of course Kaz ran away with the tile, she wants to laugh. Of course, because this can't possibly get any worse and he took their hopes with him like he took a part of her. "It's likely."

"Well," Zuko shudders. "I suppose we'll have to be distinctive enough. The scar should still be known."

Her hands quake as she moves to the kitchen and starts taking out dried food, the nuts and fruits and meat she's stored here. When the sack — large and tan with Omashu Tea Imports written on it — is almost full she debates throwing a can of spices in and decides to do it, remembering Zuko's taste-buds on Ember Island. More of the past coming back.

"You don't think he's dead, do you? You went a few years ago and he was old, wasn't he?"

"We need to try anyway," she breathes out, hoisting the bag over her shoulder as he walks out from their room, clothes piled across his back, and nods at her. "Zuya! Are you . . ."

Her daughter slugs out of her room, tugging her bag besides her, still looking slightly queasy. Zuko passes by her as she comes out to ensure that she isn't missing anything imperative and Katara takes that minute to kiss her on the head. "Strong girl," she whispers, pulling her close to her chest. She'd been too close to losing another child today. She shouldn't have lost the one.

She won't break down in front of her daughter, she won't, even as searing pain splits her heart into two and silent tears track down her cheeks. They need to leave. They can't waste time like this. She knows that. But she's been moving, been strong ever since they left the Upper Ring, and she needs a moment to herself.

How did she let this happen? How didn't she notice Azula's clutches? When was Kaz meeting her? Why didn't she notice his bending and consider it more than a fluke? She might be a terrible mother. Her mother sacrificed herself to save her and she stared dumbstruck as her child ran away to join the Fire Nation. She should have done something. She should have noticed something. She should have found a way to stop this.

In the Upper Ring she'd seen Kazou's bending, bright blue fire, and all she'd been able to think about was the last time she'd seen those flames; eighteen years ago at an Agni Kai that wasn't worth winning. That fire is hot, monstrous, and she'd been terrified by how well he seemed to wield it. And then he'd fallen and she'd let out a scream for her daughter with a knife to the throat and her son laying prostate under her nemesis, maybe in the same situation. And then Azula had tried to kill his sister and he'd protected her.

Is she missing something? How did she fail this terribly? How did she see none of the signs? How . . .

Zuko's standing behind them, tears in his eyes as well, and he drops the clothing and wraps them both tightly in his arms. His hair pushes against her forehead and she feels wetness; he's crying a silent river as well.

"He told me he was going to do what I was too weak to do," he whispers. The words are meaningless to Zuya but she knows how much they must be burning. Even so, she doesn't have it in her to comfort him right now. Not like this. So she just wraps another arm around him, pulling tight, trying to let him understand what she means.

"We're going to get him. We're going to — we are, Zuko. We are."

"Yeah," he shudders and pulls away, stroking Zuya's hair. Her face is buried in her mother's chest. "We have to go back."

He picks up the clothing he'd dropped on the floor and moves back, lightly laying a hand on Zuya's shoulder to have her come with him. Katara stands there for another moment, light dancing out of the hall windows. Something glints and she glances down to realize that she's still holding her necklace.

She puts it on.

"This is so weird," he says again even though he doesn't really need to because he's made his feelings on this situation clear. Kaz thinks it's blatantly obvious that he's trying to fill the void in himself with meaningless chatter. Unfortunately, the fact holds that Azula isn't usually a fan of such things.

But she reaches out and feels the metal with a smile on her face. "This is just a trace of what you'll see in the Fire Nation, Kaz. We're much more advanced than the other nations. We're better."

"What about the water tribes?"

She shrugs. "The Southern Water Tribe is all but gone and the Northern Water Tribe has a peace agreement with us. Waterbenders are the only other type of bender to be respected. It's understandable that you are half water tribe. Not ideal, but understandable. Earth and airbenders are worthless."

"Is that why they're all gone?"

She shrugs. "The airbenders were weak. The earthbenders have their stronghold but I toppled over Ba Sing Se's walls once and I'll do it again."

"You never told me about that. What exactly happened?"

He doesn't care too much about this story but it'll keep him distracted. He keeps seeing his mother's blue eyes flashing in his mind, keeps seeing his father staring at him, thinking monster monster monster.

"Before the Earth King had his soldiers or any power whatsoever he had the Dai Li. They were earthbenders, weak, but they did have a special sort of Fire Nation aggressiveness I was fond of at the time. I suppose that's gone," she frowns again. "Weaklings. I was using some of them, of course, but I overestimated their use."

"And?" he prompts.

"Oh, well, the Dai Li at the time of the war were incredibly corrupt and led by some strange man who essentially ruled Ba Sing Se in place of the king. I tricked him into pretending we were working together and then took all of his men."

"And he was okay with that?"

"Well, no," she picks at her broken nail. "But he eventually started to understand that I had the divine right to rule the city and he didn't. He was nothing. A peasant," she sniffs. "Not like you or me."

"And he just . . . let you have it?"

"It's my right," she shrugs. "We have the right blood, Kazou. We always win and we always come first. And it's important that the rest of the world realizes that. He came to his senses, that's all."

The emptiness at the bottom of his soul is being filled again with some twisted type of hope. He's not doing anything wrong. This is his, his birthright. And if Azula took Ba Sing Se once, proved the worthlessness of the city and its government, ruled it, then he can truly look up to her. He understands.

When he bends his head out the window he's surprised to see that the rough grounded walls of the city are too far away to see. The tank moves fast and dust, sand, fills the air behind him. He didn't get a chance to say goodbye and for a second he regrets it. And then his lips twist as he comes to another realization:

He'll be back.