The words started as incoherent mumbles that eventually worked their way up to shouting.

At least, Zuko was shouting. Iroh's voice was barely audible, rolling it's way through the air in that grave-yet-unperturbed tone of his.

As she cautiously crept her way toward the source of the sound, Umara wondered if anyone realized how much things echo, or if they had all become so accustomed to living aboard a floating prison that they had all ceased to notice. She ventured it was the former, being that there was, fortunately, a notable lack of crewmen wandering the halls. Perhaps they all felt it was better not to listen to the grim whispers, like the good, obedient soldiers that they all so desperately wanted to be. Umara chuffed at the thought, not that she was in any place to judge them: the Fire Lord had gotten to her, too.

She wasn't sure how it happened, regardless of the kidnapping or meticulously crafted manipulation. Umara had always thought herself stronger than that, but he'd gotten her under his thumb before she even realized what was happening. It was only when she came down with a peculiar illness that things had started to fall back into place. She'd hallucinated for days before she finally woke up, free from Ozai's mind games.

She wasn't sure what 'metamorphosis' even meant, but she was unimpressed with the end result. Whatever-it-was hadn't stopped her from letting her feelings screw everything up at the last minute.

What if she'd made the wrong decision? Perhaps she should have stayed: after all, Ozai hadn't hurt her—

No. No! Stop it right now. Focus.

She pushed the thought from her mind as she gingerly brought her ear to the door.

"What about any of that wasn't complicated? The part where Grandfather wiped out Umara's entire village, or the part where you didn't try to talk him out of it?!"

Oh, Agni!

Iroh thought it'd be a good idea to tell that story? She could kick herself for expecting him to find a way to subdue Zuko's damned curiosity. He was just as bad as Jeong Jeong, always making more questions instead of answering the one at hand. No wonder they needed help so badly: it was becoming glaringly apparent that 'wise' men from the Fire Nation only knew how to start fights they wouldn't have to finish themselves.

Speaking of which...

. . .

Iroh watched his nephew's crumpeled form silently. He'd expected Zuko to immediately blow up at his dark confession, and felt quite proud that his nephew was taking a moment to process what he'd just heard.

Of course, it was terribly short lived.

Zuko defiantly threw his hands up, "Why are you just telling me all of this now ?"

"You were so young when it happened, I felt the burden of my own guilt was not yours to bear," Iroh hung his head, brow furrowed with regret. "And besides, the two of you were getting along so well, I felt it best not to complicate the situation..."

"Not complicate the situation," Zuko spat, "What about any of that wasn't complicated? The part where Grandfather wiped out Umara's entire village, or the part where you didn't try to talk him out of it?! Gods, Uncle, how could you keep something like this from me?!"

"Stop screaming!" A harsh whisper interrupted from the doorway. "You guys know everything echoes here, right?!" Umara shook her head, shooting a disapproving glace across the room as she clicked the door closed behind her, "I was-er— " she cupped her hand and stiffly brought it to her ear.

"Eavesdropping?" Zuko snapped from the corner of his mouth, taking care not to look directly at her.

She repeated the word under her breath as she settled herself on the floor between them.

"You knew about all of this?!" Zuko hissed, eyes fixed pointedly on his tea cup.

"Of course I did! But, it's not your uncle's fault, so stop yelling at him!" She gave Iroh a cold side eye as she finished her sentence.

Zuko shook his head and stole a careful look up at her, "You know he didnt try- "

"I didn't say I think he's a good person, I said it is not his fault. Speaking up wouldnt have done any good. You, of all people, should you understand that."

Zuko shot a silent sneer in response, hastily returning his attention back to his tea.

Umara grunted impatiently and snagged the cup out of his hands, catching his gaze when he turned to protest. "This is exactly why no one ever tells you anything!' she complained, taking a particularly aggressive swig from the cup.

"I understand this must be difficult for you," Iroh attempted to interject, placing a gentle hand on Umara's shoulder only to be forcefully shrugged off. "But it is important to remember that not everyone shares your talent for—"

"Will both of you just... stop." Zuko's husky voice was uncharacteristically even as his eyes darted tensley between the two, eventually settling on his Uncle.

"How could you sit there and let something like this happen, Unc—"

"Gods, how are you still so self centered?" Umara barked as she shook her head disapprovingly, the dim lighting cast her scowl in a grave shadow. "You don't get to die on this hill, Zuko!"

"What are you talking about?" Zuko's head snapped around, eyes colliding with Umara's steadfast glare.

"Last time I checked, you were hunting the Last Airbender because 'it will restore your honor'. Speaking of which, remind me, why is there only one left?" She raised her eyebrows pointedly.

"That's not the same—"

"I'm over it, okay? You don't have to pretend to care." The words shot from her lips, cutting through his chest with the presicion of a Yuyan archer.

He suddenly felt as if he were staring at the light at the end of a dark tunnel as he watched her tensely gnawing at the inside of her lip.

He hadn't heard what she said, not really . The Fire Nation had a way of making one deaf to any criticism, but regardless of his selective hearing, he wasn't going to go on letting her think he didn't care, at least for one night.

Everything else seemed to disappear as he tried desperately to read her mind.She turned and said something to someone; Uncle, perhaps? He couldnt be sure, there was too much happening in his own mind.

Did she blame him? It would make sense if she did. Her life was a drop in the bucket of things he'd ruined by just existing. He was an embarrassment, and a disappointment:

He was—

"Zuko!"

— burning a hole in the cushion!

Umara tittered as she pulled his hand away from where he'd been been anxiously gripping it, "you don't have a handle on that by now?"

"Yeah— I do, usually," Zuko shook his head in an attempt to relieve the fogginess in his mind. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mmhm..." Umara hummed absentmindedly. She quickly let go of his wrist, pulling at her clothes as she righted herself. "Cough—Yeah. What?"

"Why are you not more upset about this?" he stumbled over the gentleness of his own words.

Umara stared at him blankly for a few seconds, there was something strangely comforting In the way her lips pinched to one side. A familiar expression, though the impish joy was absent from her eyes. For the first time all day, she mirrored the exhausted melancholy that he himself hid carefully away in the recesses of his mind.

"Because it wont fix anything," she began weakly. "And maybe it's better this way...They aren't around for me to hate them..." Umara shrugged with an uncertain flash of her eyes.

Zuko had almost forgotten why he was so intimidated by her. She really could be unsettlingly indifferent when she wanted to. "That's—ehrm— Gods, that's dark. Even for you."

"Did you miss the part where they sold a little kid to someone they didn't even trust?" Umara snapped.

"That's fair," he mumbled sheepishly, not wanting to push the issue. "So, that's why you ran away, then?"

She rolled her eyes at him, "Oh, Agni. I already told-ack— no, Zuko," a half hearted smile crept onto her lips. "I didnt run from the idea of being stuck with you."

He felt his face go red, she'd managed to pleasantly fluster him and make him feel like an ass all with one bittersweet little smirk.

"Don't get me wrong, I probably would now," she interrupted his floundering with a brassy tone. "You're kind of a jerk, you know."

She had him there. Though, to be fair, this wasn't the first time in his life she'd called him a jerk: he'd lost count when she started resorting to other languages just to keep things interesting. Granted, she'd never wrongly called him out, and today was certainly not the exception.

"Right," he cringed. "About that—"

"Come outside with me." Umara commanded, springing to her feet.

"What?" Zuko shook his head, disoriented by her abrupt change in demeanor.

She pulled his arm impatiently, "Come- outside-with-me. It is too depressing in here.

He barely managed to stumble to his feet as Umara dragged him behind her. "Gods, Mari! Why do you always—ah," He choked on his own, whiny tone. It was as if the words had come an entirely different person: from some forgotten sliver of an innocent, ungainly little child that couldn't seem to give up.

Umara seemed to notice as well, pausing for an instant to glance back at him, cheeks sucked in and eyebrows dramatically raised in playful surprise.

For one, fleeting, moment in time, they were just two children: unbothered by the cruel realities that had brought them to where they stood.