Water

The Northern Mountains: Part 2

"They did not."

"They did."

"No. You're Earth Kingdom. Only Air Nomads lived at the temples."

"Well, my family lived here a long time ago. So there."

"What part of your family?"

"My great-great—um—great gramma."

"Ha! She couldn't have lived here. The Northern Air Temple was all boys. The girls lived at the Eastern and Western Temples. Your great-gramma couldn't have lived here."

"Great-great-great-gramma! And she did too!"

It was almost mesmerizing. Katara had never seen Aang argue like this before. Or at all, really. He was usually so masterful at keeping himself out of conflict. But Ehani's cheerful chatter about her family—three brothers, two sisters, and all the ancestors whose names she could remember—had somehow managed to strike a nerve with him, and now his dinner sat in front of him, forgotten and rapidly cooling.

Katara couldn't decide whether the argument was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, Aang certainly wasn't dwelling on his disappointment over not finding any airbenders at the temple anymore. That had been a bit concerning when she and Ehani returned from their little expedition around the temple. If Aang's reaction was anything like it had been at the Southern Air Temple, then it could have endangered a lot more than just the three of them. The refugees would have been in harm's way too.

But that didn't seem to be an issue. Aang was far too busy bickering to work himself up into the Avatar State. And it was a little bit funny to watch him struggle his way through a proper argument for once.

But on the other hand, the argument wasn't exactly helping his mood, and aside from hovering a little too close to the source of his disappointment for Katara's liking, it was also loud. And maybe it was a little bit selfish, but Katara would have been happier if they weren't all a few seconds away from drawing Sokka's attention again. That had been the entire point in sitting by Aang, Teo, and Ehani. She'd been counting on the conversation to provide a buffer between her and Sokka, but this was a little bit much.

"What gives you the idea that your family lived here anyway?" Aang said. "You weren't around back then. You don't have any way of knowing."

Katara glanced across at Teo. He, at least, seemed perfectly happy to watch the argument unfold. It was almost like this was a common occurrence.

Ehani jabbed her chopsticks at Aang. "Were you here? Huh? Did you memorize everyone who lived here? Did you meet my great-great-great gramma?"

"I—no, of course I didn't memorize everyone's name!"

"Ha! So you don't know where my great-great-great gramma lived!"

Katara stifled a snort and turned to Teo again. "Does this happen a lot?"

Teo shrugged. "It's usually her brothers and sisters instead of strangers."

Katara didn't doubt that. She remembered being ten. She remembered the kinds of squabbles that she and Sokka got into back then.

And now. Of course this one was more significant, but if Sokka would just leave her alone for a few days, everything would be fine.

"Do you think her family really lived here?"

Teo frowned, stirring the bowl in his lap. "It's not the first time she's said that. I think she believes it."

Fair enough. It wasn't like any of them had a way of knowing. If it kept Aang's attention occupied, maybe it was a good thing. Distractions could be good sometimes.

She caught Sokka looking her way from the opposite side of the platform, and she groaned, leaning to the side to block him from view. Couldn't he just focus on his science stuff with the mechanist? She knew that was what they were talking about over there. Shouldn't he be more interested in that than in being nosy?

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the glider attachments on Teo's wheelchair. Maybe that was a worthwhile idea.

"Is it hard to ride a glider without bending?"

"I don't know what gliding is like with bending," Teo answered. "It takes some practice to get used to the air currents, but after that it's easy." He paused. "We probably have a spare one if you want to try it later."

"That sounds great!" It might be a good way to practice for someday when she started airbending. And being on a glider would make it impossible for Sokka to pester her with questions.

"Ooh, can I come too?" Ehani piped in.

"If you can find a glider to use," Teo said.

"I'll take mine back. Mom said I had to share, but she didn't say for how long."

"Okay." Teo turned toward Aang. "Do you want to come too?"

A shrug. "I guess."

At that, Teo grinned. "Great! Then we'll all go gliding first thing tomorrow!"

Zuko wasn't used to working like this. He could. Of course he could. He knew how to do practically everything to keep a ship running, even if he wasn't particularly good at any of the tasks. He wasn't completely incompetent.

But he also wasn't in the best shape to work through an entire shift. Uncle had tried to warn him about that before he donned the uniform, but Zuko hadn't listened. He didn't want to. Given the choice between another day stuck in the cabin with Uncle and an opportunity to get out, Zuko had to choose the latter. It didn't matter that he could feel every bump and bruise and burn protesting under his armor, or that his muscles were aching with effort. He was fine. And since he was wearing a helmet, he could blend in perfectly with Zhao's crew.

Almost perfectly. He was quite a bit smaller than most of them.

But no one had seemed to notice him so far, and as long as he could keep up with the work for the rest of the shift, they wouldn't notice him either. He could make it through this shift. He had to. If nothing else, he had to prove to Uncle that he was, in fact, strong enough to handle himself again.

And, he reasoned, he would probably sleep better if he exhausted himself too.

It wasn't that he couldn't sleep otherwise. He fell asleep easily enough, and though he woke at odd hours, that was hardly new for him. It was the dreams that bothered him. They weren't nightmares, exactly. He had more than enough experience with those too, but these were different. These were just—strange. Never bad enough to wake him in a cold sweat, just enough to leave him puzzled and vaguely unsettled every time he woke. Working himself to the point of exhaustion might help push the dreams out.

He hoped that it would, anyway. He could never quite recall the details, but there was always a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the explosion, with his quest being cut short and his path to returning home vanishing in front of his eyes. With the fact that he should have drowned in the explosion's aftermath. With the knowledge that there was only one person who could have possibly pulled him to safety.

He liked that last possibility the least. Of course it was less bleak than thinking about his future—whatever was left of it, but the possibility that he was dreaming about Katara was terrifying. He should be dreaming about—anything else, really. About what he was going to do without his own ship, or about the possibility of going home, no matter how distant. They would likely be unpleasant dreams, but at least they wouldn't be so confusing.

Keeping his head down, Zuko tried to focus on his work. He was meant to be moving crates around. He should really be thinking about that rather than getting distracted by everything else. He was tired and aching, and he needed all his focus to keep from tripping over things or making noises of relief when he finally got to put a crate down and return for the next one. The helmet hid his face, but he couldn't risk anyone hearing his voice either. It was annoying to be so recognizable.

The shift bell finally rang, and it took everything Zuko had not to drop the crate he was holding and flop down on his back. Okay, so maybe Uncle had a point about it being too soon for Zuko to venture out of the cabin. But he'd made it through the shift. He'd proved that he could do it, and that was what really mattered. Now he could go back to the cabin, sleep, and do it all again tomorrow.

His shoulders slumped at the thought. It was fine. He'd be fine. He wasn't going to give Uncle any satisfaction by admitting just how tired and sore he was. It would wear off in a few days, and maybe by then, he'd have pushed other things out of his mind far enough to start making decisions for his future.

He followed the group of sailors leaving their shift until they dropped below deck and began removing their helmets one by one, all talking and laughing and paying no attention to the smaller figure following just behind them, still wearing his helmet.

Good. Zuko lagged farther and farther behind until he was certain that no one would see or hear him when he turned the opposite direction, then when every single sailor was looking the other way, Zuko ducked into a storage closet. Just like the one he and Uncle had been forced to spend the night in before the Agni Kai. For all he knew, it was the same one.

He pretended to search through the stacks of linens and fresh towels until the corridor went silent, then shoved a small stack of towels under his arm and ducked back into the corridor. He had to be quick, he had to be quiet, and he had to look like he was delivering something mundane to Uncle's cabin, otherwise he'd be caught. Enlisted men weren't allowed near the officers' cabins without reason, and the last thing Zuko needed was to be reprimanded for straying into the wrong part of a ship he wasn't meant to be on in the first place.

The corridors were deserted, and he almost dared to breathe a sigh of relief when he reached Uncle's door without incident. He would get better at this soon. He wouldn't be this tired and distracted for very long, and once he felt normal again, he'd be absolutely perfect at blending in.

But when he opened the door to find Zhao in the middle of a conversation with Uncle, Zuko's heart dropped.

Oh no.

He hadn't considered the possibility that Uncle would let anyone else in here. It was meant to be Uncle's private cabin, set aside for silence and seclusion while he 'mourned' Zuko's death. That wasn't supposed to change.

Except that Zuko was leaving the cabin now, so of course Uncle would too, and that meant that there were no rules to keep anyone else out anymore.

Uncle waved Zuko in and accepted the towels from him without remark, without reaction, but Zuko could see the stony look of recognition and warning in his eyes.

"That will be all, thank you," Uncle said evenly, and his gaze alone pushed Zuko back out the door.

Now what? That had been close. Way too close. Where was he supposed to go if he couldn't hide out in Uncle's cabin?

He couldblend in with the crew just fine so long as he kept his helmet on, but he couldn't wear the helmet without attracting unwanted attention unless he was working. And work—he felt near enough to dropping already. He couldn't push through another shift, even he had to admit that much.

For a second, he considered locking himself in a supply closet somewhere to rest until Zhao left. He'd be able to take off his helmet, at least. And he'd spent an entire night in a supply closet before. What was a few hours by comparison?

No, he couldn't risk that. There was too great a chance that someone else would need supplies and burst in only to find a stowaway sleeping behind the locked door.

He started down the hall, doing his best to make his stride sound purposeful. Maybe this was his best option. Zhao couldn't stay in there forever. Sooner or later, Uncle would see Zhao out, and if Zuko was lucky, he could sneak in without being seen and get some desperately needed sleep. In the meantime, Zuko would just have to wander and hope that no one noticed an off-duty sailor wandering the corridors in his helmet.

He marched up one corridor and down the next, staying out of sight whenever possible. At the sound of a conversation to the right, Zuko turned left. When he saw a flicker of movement ahead, Zuko took a sharp turn and dodge around the next corner and out of sight. This, at least, he was good at. He didn't have his dark clothes or his mask anymore, but he did have a talent for stealth.

He just wished that he knew where he was going.

It didn't take very long before Zuko became convinced that he was lost. He ought to know his way around this type of ship. He should have had one this size too, but instead he remembered the layout of his own tiny, battered old ship that sat at the bottom of the Weiji harbor in shreds. Which was not helpful here on Zhao's ship. Which meant that he'd now wandered around too many corners, up and down too many stairs, and made too many hasty backtracks to remember which direction he'd come from.

It didn't matter that much, he decided. He was still on the ship. As long as he stayed disguised and mostly out of sight, it wasn't like he wouldn't find his way eventually. The ship was big, but it wasn't infinite. Sooner or later, he'd wander to the right place.

He stifled a yawn and took a corner a bit too short, ramming his shoulder into the wall. He'd find his way back, all right. Assuming he didn't fall asleep and tip over first.

From up ahead, Zuko heard deep, rumbling noises, and started to turn again to avoid running into a conversation. But before he so much as faced the other direction, there was something more akin to a roar.

That wasn't a human sound. In fact, if he concentrated, he was fairly convinced that none of the rumbling noises were human.

Cautious, he turned again and made his way toward the rumbling. The hallway broadened as he went until Zuko found himself in a great, cavernous, echoey—and smelly space, lined on either side by barred stalls. Much as he hated to admit it, he knew both the sounds and the smells here.

Zuko made his way slowly down the row between the stalls, craning his neck from side to side. His komodo rhinos had to be here somewhere. Not that he'd ever be able to recognize them. And they would certainly never recognize him, even without the helmet. Goji, Ginger, Jasmine, and Noodles were all stupid beasts. There was nothing special about any of them. Sure, his rhinos had been more useless than most, but even Zhao's could hardly be remarkable. The beasts were bred for strength, obedience, and ruthlessness, nothing else. He'd never be able to tell them apart.

Still, he kept looking, examining every stall as he passed. There was one komodo rhino with its rear aimed outward, grunting as it scraped its horn against the far wall. Zuko almost thought that one looked like Ginger. And the one in the next stall—small and squat, with its head buried in its trough—that one reminded him of Noodles.

Zuko shook his head. This was stupid. He couldn't recognize a komodo rhino on sight. There was nothing distinct enough to remember any of them by, and even if he could risk calling to them, they didn't tend to answer to their own names. He shouldn't care anyway. He didn't.

But then he reached the midpoint of the aisle, and a particularly large komodo rhino rammed the stall door with all its might. Zuko stopped in his tracks. That didn't mean anything. Lots of komodo rhinos would try to ram their way out of their stalls. But when he turned to look, the beast raised its head and snorted at him.

Maybe Zuko couldn't recognize a komodo rhino by sight, but he'd only ever seen one with such a bad habit of ramming things that its horns had to be fitted with bits of cork to protect the crew from being gored.

Standing perfectly still, Zuko watched Jasmine ram the steel bars a few more times. The barrier would hold firm, Zuko knew that. Jasmine had tried ramming his way out of his stall plenty of times back on Zuko's ship, but all that ramming had never accomplished anything. Except, possibly, making Jasmine angrier.

"You're lucky you have such a small brain," Zuko said without thinking to check whether anyone else was around. "If your skull wasn't so thick, you'd have knocked out what's left of your sense a long time ago."

Jasmine stopped his ramming for a moment and turned his beady black eyes up at Zuko. Had he recognized his name? Really?

This was stupid. Jasmine didn't remember Zuko. He couldn't. And Zuko was probably wrong about recognizing Jasmine. And yet—there was a slight, curious tilt to the rhino's head as though he recognized Zuko's voice, and each of his horns was tipped with bits of cork. Zuko couldn't be imagining that last part. His old crew were on this ship somewhere, and surely one of them would have taken the precaution of blunting Jasmine's horns. This was stupid, but it had to be Jasmine.

Zuko looked up and down the corridor and strained upward to see over the stalls. There was no one else here. And if Zuko couldn't go back to Uncle's cabin yet, then maybe—with an irritated sigh, he crossed the aisle and leaned against the empty stall next to Jasmine's.

"I bet you never thought you'd hear my voice again."

Jasmine snorted and rammed the gate again.

"Me either, Jasmine."

Katara was becoming entirely too sneaky. Every time Sokka had tried to corner her since they'd arrived at the temple, she'd managed to slip away from him. He was fairly certain that those two refugee kids—Teo and that girl with a voice too big for her body—were to blame for part of it. Aang wasn't making things better either. Between the three of them, Katara seemed to have at least one accomplice with her to fend off Sokka's questions at all times.

It was all Katara's fault for being so sneaky. And the other kids for helping her. He had been trying his absolute best to corner her since they'd arrived, and she just kept evading him. Sokka couldn't help that. Of course Katara was getting too good at this. Her ability to disappear at convenient times had nothing to do with the fact that Sokka had spent most of the time since they'd arrived talking to the mechanist about science. He wasn't getting distracted, Katara was just turning into an evil mastermind of sneaking.

And now she'd done it again.

Sokka scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, yawning tremendously. The sun was just barely peeking through the open doorway, but both Katara's sleeping bag and Aang's spot on Appa's tail were empty. Of course. It was far too early for normal people to be awake, but of course Katara was already gone. She must have gotten up early specifically to avoid Sokka.

Well, it wasn't going to work. The temple was only so big, and there were only so many places she could have gone.

He was going to do it today. No matter what it took, he was going to find Katara, and he'd make her tell the truth. Then once all the details were out in the open and Sokka knew just how bad things had been on Zuko's ship, he'd finally be able to figure out what had to happen next. He'd know if they needed to double back for Dad's protection and for support fighting off Zuko. Sokka would know exactly how dead he had to kill Zuko in order to keep his baby sister safe.

He wriggled out of his sleeping bag and pulled a fresh—or, judging by the smell, possibly a little less than fresh tunic over his head.

He could be sneaky too. He could creep up on Katara with no problem, especially if she was hanging out with Teo and Ehani and Aang. Between Aang and Ehani's bickering, the gossip between the girls, and the rattle of Teo's wheels over the stone pathways, the four of them made plenty of noise. Sokka would have no trouble finding them, and if he planned his moves carefully, he could use their incessant noise as cover to sneak up close. Maybe he could even get close enough to eavesdrop on the conversation without even being seen. That would be ideal. If Sokka could find out some of the details on his own, then there was that much less room for Katara to make excuses and avoid the subject.

With a grunt and a good deal of wiggling, Sokka squeezed himself past Appa's rump and tumbled out the doorway into the sunlight. He'd start at the glider launch platform and work his way up from there to the top of the temple. Sooner or later, he'd have to find Katara.

As much as she enjoyed exploring the temple—especially without Sokka constantly nosing in on the conversation—Katara couldn't help but worry about Aang. He'd joined Katara and their new friends on their exploration of the upper reaches of the temple, but his expression was clouded, and he seemed more subdued than usual. Even Momo, perched on Aang's shoulder, seemed a little somber.

As they passed through a high archway, Katara nudged Aang. "Are you okay?" In the tall, half-darkened chamber, her voice echoed off of every surface, ringing back at all different pitches, each slightly out of time.

Aang shook himself. "I don't know. This is all so—different."

Ehani jogged on ahead of them and pointed at a broken section of the wall. "—and I think this was broken before we got here. It was probably pretty."

Aang plodded until he caught up with Ehani and looked up at what remained of the chipped and cracked stone. "It used to be a mural."

Though there was little left of the original picture, the carvings and scraps of color left behind were still stunning. Katara thought she could make out the shapes of people and animals and flowers, the flecks of paint still left behind giving at least a hint of what it used to look like.

"There used to be a bunch of these down by the glider platform," Teo said. "When Dad was putting in the ramps and air vents, he had to get rid of some of them."

Aang's expression remained stony and still. "It wasn't worth it."

Katara dug her nails into the palms of her hands. She could feel Aang's cold, brittle anger over the destruction. She felt it too. She knew what it was like to see her homeland in ruins.

But all the ramps and the hand-cranked elevators made it possible for Teo to live here. Without them, he'd be stuck in one place all the time—in a way, Katara knew that feeling too. This was Teo's home now. He needed to at least be able to navigate it.

What she really couldn't understand was why the mechanist couldn't have done both.

She looked between Teo and Ehani. "Is there a part of the temple that's still the way it used to be?" It wouldn't be much, but maybe that could at least be a comfort to Aang. Maybe it could leave him with a happier memory of this place.

"This room right here," Teo answered. "And there's a few others farther up the mountain too, if you want to see them."

Katara touched Aang's shoulder. "Do you want to see what the rest of them look like?"

Looking away, Aang shrugged. "I guess." He pulled out from under her hand and started trudging very slowly toward the far end of the chamber.

Katara hung back, watching him go on ahead as Ehani jogged to keep up, peppering Aang with questions, and Teo rolled a little bit behind them.

She couldn't help but feel like this whole trip had been a mistake. Aang was upset because everything was different—not that she could blame him. A hundred years were bound to change a place, but not this much.

And of course, there were no airbenders here either. Although Katara had tried her best to warn him about that, she couldn't really fault him for his optimism. She'd thought that there were no Southern waterbenders left too, but the little boy on Kyoshi Island had proven her wrong. Why couldn't Aang hope for the same?

She started after them slowly, her shoulders feeling heavy, but before she managed to catch up, there was a thump from behind her. Or she thought it came from behind her. It was hard to know for sure with echoes coming from so many different directions.

She turned around anyway and found Sokka sprawled out on the ground behind a column like he'd been hiding and lost his balance.

For a second, Katara forgot her concern over Aang. "Sokka? Are you following us?"

He hopped up to his feet and wiped the floor grime off his front. "I was—doing an important investigation."

Her brows pulled downward. "You were. You were following us! Why? What are you trying to do, you absolute creep?"

Sokka puffed himself up a little, hands on his hips and his chest thrust outward. "I'm trying to figure out what's going on here, okay? And you're making that really hard by always running off to take care of Aang or—whatever."

Katara narrowed her eyes. "You—you're unbelievable, Sokka, you know that? I'm just trying to help Aang, why is that such a problem for you?"

"Because you're avoiding your own problems! Zuko held you prisoner for weeks, and we all know he's still out there somewhere. We can't just ignore that and move on like it never happened. You need to tell us—"

"I don't need to tell you anyth—"

Before she could finish her sentence, there was a crash, and the wall on the far side of the chamber crumbled inward.

Katara crouched and threw her arms up over her head. For an instant, she could only think of the ship—the fiery explosion that could have killed them both if Zuko hadn't blocked the flames. But this time, there was no one to ward off the flames, and no water to cushion her fall if the blast sent her flying. She felt an arm toss around her shoulders, shielding her from the debris, but this blast was over as quickly as it had begun. There was no rush of oppressive heat, no blast strong enough to throw her into the air. She opened her eyes a crack. None of that. Just dust. A lot of dust.

Katara shrugged off Sokka's arm and stood, looking first toward the others—Aang, Ehani, and Teo were all huddled together, but they seemed unharmed—and then toward the source of the blast. Daylight shone through what was once a dark, solid stone wall, and clouds of dust billowed in around it, obscuring whatever was on the other side.

"Katara, what the—"

She didn't give Sokka a chance to continue. Instead, she ran toward Aang, who had gone completely, utterly pale.

A shadow flashed across the cloud of dust, and as the dust began to settle, the dark form came nearer until she could make out the mechanist on the other side of the wall.

"Kids?" the mechanist asked, sounding baffled. "You weren't supposed to be in here. This whole area was barricaded off—"

"I think you forgot the barricades, Dad," Teo croaked, fanning the dust away from his face.

"Impossible! I—" the mechanist stopped, then looked upward, frowning. "I may have forgotten the barricades," he concluded.

Katara reached them and started to reach for Aang's shoulder, but he pulled away before she got the chance.

"The barricades? You're worried about the barricades?" Aang's voice was high and shrill, and he was shaking, tense from head to toe. "You're destroying part of my people's home. This place was supposed to be sacred, and you've already torn down so much of it—"

"Our people needed a place to live," the mechanist responded, his voice even and one of his patchy eyebrows cocked upward. "We lost everything, and we needed a place where we could live in peace."

"So you're tearing it down? You're destroying everything that my people built for—"

"A bathhouse," the mechanist supplied. "We need a place to—"

He didn't get any farther than that before Aang went still and calm. No. Oh, no, Katara recognized that look, and sure enough, Aang's tattoos began to glow and the stillness in the chamber broke as the air began to swirl.

No. She felt the stillness, the clarity trying to overtake her too, and she forced it back down with everything she had. She had to stay in her right mind, in her human mind to deal with this.

Katara grabbed Teo and Ehani each by a shoulder. "Get out of here while you can. Find someplace sheltered. I'll see what I can do about Aang."

By their expressions and the flicker of a reflection in their eyes, she suspected that her eyes were already beginning to glow.

She didn't have time to worry about that. With a harsh grimace, she tried to focus on driving the Avatar State back down and shoved them both toward the nearest door. She paused just long enough to see them racing for the exit before turning around and advancing toward Aang.

"Aang!" she shouted over the swirling wind. Her own voice seemed to get lost in the gusts, but unfamiliar voices—either the strange echoes of the chamber or voices of past Avatars, she couldn't tell which—cut through the noise. "Aang, please come down here. We can fix this! I can—"

Someone grabbed onto her arm, and she broke off midsentence, looking back over her shoulder.

It was Sokka. His grip tightened on her arm, and he tried to pull her toward the door.

The clarity and rage trying to overtake her mind crept closer, and Katara shoved him backward. He couldn't stop her. Shehad to be the one to stop this. She had to pull Aang back before he lost all control and destroyed this place and all the people living here.

"I can help you fix this," she shouted.

She didn't know if that was possible, if there was a way to fix anything that was wrong here. She didn't even know if they should try. All she knew was that Aang needed to hear it. That even an empty promise was worth the effort if it could pull him back from the edge.

The wind and dust blew harder, and Katara lost track of time. But then it gradually began to subside, and Aang descended toward the ground until she was finally able to grab onto him and pull him closer. Eyes squeezed shut, she held onto him until she felt the Avatar State beginning to ebb out of her own veins, until the glow through her eyelids went dark, until his scrawny shoulders went limp in her grasp.

With a shaky sigh, she eased her grip and lowered Aang to the ground. It was fine. He was going to be okay. She, on the other hand, wasn't through yet.

Rage, tumultuous and very much human, bubbled up inside her, and she whirled back on Sokka.

"Are you insane? What were you trying to do? Aang needed me, and you—"

He pushed up off of the ground. "This is exactly what I've been talking about, Katara! You can't just distract yourself with everyone else's problems, you have to—"

The corners of her vision flickered with red. "Can't you just let it go for five minutes?"

"It's already been a week! I gave you plenty of time to deal with—whatever this is, okay? If you don't start telling us the truth, then what? Are we gonna have to deal with you going glowy someday, or—"

"Maybe I could have said something if you weren't busy making all the worst assumptions about what happened!"

"What else am I supposed to do? You were on a Fire Nation ship for weeks. How am I supposed to think anything but the worst? And since Zuko is still out there somewhere—"

Katara couldn't stop herself. "Zuko is still alive because I saved him, okay? He was drowning and I pulled him out of the water. He let me go, and saved me from the explosion, and I don't know why or how I was supposed to explain that to you."

She paused, breathing hard, and Sokka stared back at her, wide-eyed.

But she couldn't stop there. There was too much fury still boiling in her veins, and she had to let it out before she combusted.

She whirled around again and jabbed a finger at the mechanist. "And you. A bathhouse? You're destroying an ancient temple for something that stupid?" He started to reply, but Katara cut him off. "There has to be a place like that around here somewhere. The airbenders must have had a place to wash up, so find it and fix it and stop destroying everything!"

That, it seemed, was her limit. Almost before the words made it past her lips, she turned away and ran.

An oppressively heavy silence hung over all of them as they packed their things back onto Appa.

Sokka wasn't really surprised by that. He couldn't be, not after—everything. Even he wasn't particularly inclined to talk right now, and he hadn't gone into the Avatar State or screamed out a confession about saving Zuko's life.

He shot a glance at Katara, but she avoided his eyes and yanked the tethers tighter over their supplies. He looked toward Aang instead, but he sat on Appa's neck with his back turned, knees pulled up to his chest and his arms folded on top of them.

Sokka had sort of expected things to turn out messy. Much as he liked the mechanist's improvements to the temple, he could understand why they bothered Aang. Mostly. And Sokka had been planning to squeeze the truth out of Katara one way or another all along, but he hadn't expected anything quite so—explosive. In hindsight, he could even understand why she'd been so angry about his questions. Sort of.

Ugh. He was going to have to clean up this whole mess, wasn't he? Sokka was the only one who really could. It was too bad that he didn't know where to begin.

Probably with Katara. Aang was plenty upset in his own right, but Katara was actually mad at Sokka. And while his assumptions hadn't been that unreasonable, he had probably been a little too pushy about it.

Frowning, he shoved his own pack and sleeping bag into the stack of supplies and lashed them down. He couldn't decide what surprised him more about her confession—the fact that Zuko had done something good, or the fact that it didn't seem entirely unbelievable now that he knew. After all, Sokka remembered Crescent Island. He remembered yelling insults at Zuko and watching him boil over in ridiculous, helpless rage. He remembered how Zuko had changed the subject and lied to pull Zhao's attention away from Sokka. And he remembered those words that Zuko had yelled to stop Zhao from cutting off their escape. Agni Kai, whatever that meant.

Zuko had saved them once. Sokka shouldn't be that surprised that he'd done it again.

But he was. Of course he was surprised. Zuko had kidnapped his baby sister and held her prisoner for weeks. Anything could have happened. And the worst possibilities were by far the most likely.

And yet Zuko had done a good thing. Of course Katara hadn't known how to explain that.

And Sokka still didn't know how he was supposed to respond.

The mechanist watched them from a terrace above. For a second, Sokka thought about running up there to say goodbye, to thank him for all the advice and engineering scrolls that he'd given Sokka, but considering—well, just considering, that didn't sound like a good idea.

Aang was mad at the mechanist. Aang had every right to be mad. Aang would probably be mad at Sokka too if he went to say goodbye. That was the last thing they needed right now. Their group was feeling fragile enough as it was.

The girl, Ehani, strolled up beside Appa and patted the bison's leg. "You really have to leave already?"

Katara stopped her packing and hung over the side of the saddle. "I think that's probably best." Her voice was oddly calm, though Sokka could tell from her manner that she was still upset. Not angry, exactly. That tension hanging around her didn't seem quite like anger, but it was unmistakably present.

Even Sokka felt a little out of sorts. Which was strange for him. Sokka was usually so much clearer in his feelings than the others. He could usually feel just one way about things, but he didn't know exactly what he was feeling now. It wasn't normal, whatever it was.

Ehani picked her way around to the front of the saddle and stared up at Aang. Crap. Sokka knew how much those two had been arguing. That was exactly not what Aang needed right now.

But the girl didn't say anything. At least not right away. Instead, she nudged the end of Aang's dangling staff, then held up a loosely bound book to him.

Aang raised his head just a bit. "What's this?"

"It's for you. My oldest sister drew a lot of the murals before they all—"

"Got destroyed," Aang finished for her.

"Yeah." A long pause, and then Ehani waved the book at him again. "You should have it. They're your memories. I'll make new drawings for my family."

Aang didn't reach down for the book. "I don't see what the point is if your people are going to just keep destroying the temple." He rested his chin on his knees again. "I get it. You need a place to live and my people are gone, so—"

Ehani cocked her head to the side. "So Teo said he'd help us figure out where the old bathhouse was. If the mechanist can fix that one, then he won't have to knock anything else down." She paused. "And I'm going to get my oldest sister to help. She can be really scary when she wants to be, so no one will be able to argue with her."

Sokka glanced toward Katara, and this time, she met his gaze for a second. As compromises went, that didn't sound too bad. Maybe it was possible. Maybe the mechanist could find ways to work with what was already here instead of knocking things down and starting from scratch. Fixing things was slightly less cool than inventing new ones, but maybe not everything had to be cool. Maybe things could just work.

Aang sat a little straighter again. "Really? You would do that?"

Ehani nodded. "My great-great-great-gramma used to live here. I want to keep it nice for her too."

Aang's smile deflated a bit, and Sokka cringed. It was not the right time to start that up again.

But Aang reached down to accept the book anyway. "What, is your great-great-great gramma the reason your sister is giving me the book?"

"Oh, no," Ehani said matter-of-factly. "I snuck that out from under her bed. She's going to be angry, so you should probably go."

Sokka couldn't help it. He snorted. That was a typical little sister all right.

"Right." Aang passed the book backward into the saddle. He looked down one more time, at both Ehani and Teo. "Thanks. Really." Then he cracked the reins and called Appa up off of the ground.

For while, Sokka watched the temple growing smaller in the distance, noticing the scars where old buildings used to stand and all the odd, incongruous shapes of the mechanist's additions. All the things that didn't quite belong, no matter how ingenious they seemed to Sokka.

Beside him, Katara hung off the back of the saddle too, and Sokka shot a glance in her direction. She didn't look quite as upset anymore. There was still that strange, slightly lost look she'd been wearing for the past week, but the jagged edges were worn away.

It looked like she might listen if he could find the right words to say.

Sokka crawled to the front of the saddle and poked Aang in the shoulder. "Hey," he said, voice as quiet as he could keep it without his words being carried away on the wind. "Why don't you let Appa fly us for a while? I think we've all got some things to figure out."

Aang wiped at his eyes with his sleeve before he nodded and clambered back into the saddle.

"I think it's time that we talked about a few things," Sokka began, settling cross-legged along the edge of the saddle. He felt both pairs of eyes on him, and his hands clamped into fists. "I'm sorry if I was too pushy, Katara."

She scoffed and shook her head. "If?"

"That. That I was too pushy. But—we both know firebenders. We know what they can do to people." He frowned, picking at a loose thread in the sleeve of his parka. "You're my little sister, and I'm supposed to protect you. I failed. I just—I wanted to know everything so I could make sure I didn't fail again."

Katara looked away. "You found me right after I got out. That was pretty good as far as I'm concerned."

"We got lucky this time," Sokka said. "We can't count on that happening again. If we want to make it out of this alive, we can't lie or keep secrets anymore."

The faintest hint of a scowl flashed over her face.

"No assumptions this time, okay? I promise. And I won't try to kill anyone either. Unless you want me to."

Katara frowned for a moment. Then, "Admiral Zhao. You can kill him if you want." She met his eyes again. "I'll even help. He's the one who blew up the ship. I was just collateral damage to him." She lapsed into silence, then finally nodded. "Two conditions before I say anything else. First, no freaking out or making weird comments until I'm done. Okay?"

Her gaze drilled into Sokka's skull until he nodded, then turned on Aang until he agreed too.

"Second," she continued, "Aang has to hold up his end of our deal. He has to tell his story first."

Aang groaned and dropped his head onto his knees. "Right now?"

"That was the deal. Go ahead. I think Sokka already ran out of surprise for the day."

Author's Note:

This chapter made me so nervous because I am far too white to know what I'm talking about in issues of cultural preservation. Even as a side plot for Katara's stuff, I'm just... a little wary of the whole thing because I don't want to get it wrong. Which clearly didn't stop the creators (seriously, why, of all things, did they decide to pit the preservation of a culture against accessibility? Seems like something that would have needed more than 20 minutes to be done well if you ask me), but anyway. I tried. And I also ignored the Fire Nation attack on the temple because I just didn't feel like writing it.

Yes, Zuko's old acquaintance was Jasmine the komodo rhino. Yes, I'm back to adding random female OCs in wherever I feel like it because the show had FAR too many boys (I may have actual plans for Ehani, though). And yes, I'm enjoying myself every step of the way! This is fun!

And Katara's outburst was probably the most fun out of everything if I'm being honest. I just loved Sokka being so annoying that Katara finally had to yell everything at him to get him to shut up!

See you all back here in two more weeks!