Summary: Ember Island brings up old memories, a boy tells a story, and the Gaang finds out about Zuko's scar.

Stepping on the old tatami floors was like coming back home, only to realise home was never something he had. The sliding doors had gotten stuck halfway, and Zuko had to force it open, only to have musty air hit him in the face. The place was decaying, as all things belonging to his family did, wooden floors rotting and dust gathering at every crevice. Before he had walked in, he had noticed the verandas with their broken railings, trying not to think of how his mother had sat out there with eyes gazing far past the horizon would allow. The floors creaked with every step, a warning to get out before even more of his few good memories could be ripped from him.

"This place is cool!" Aang shouted from behind.

Zuko smiled.

Let his old memories be taken, as long as he made new ones.

(But some things are easier said than done.)

"So this is your parent's place?" Sokka asked sceptically, "Won't someone come in to check?"

"It's been abandoned for a long time."

"Better than nothing," Katara offered up, running her hands over the walls admiringly.

The house was expensive, but that was not in a way that was overtly obvious. Zuko knew that a lot of nobles bought houses along the beaches, but theirs were literal mansions. Huge estates overlooking the ocean or the town, decorated in the gold and all things glittery. It screamed money.

Wealth whispers , Ozai had once said, this twist of his lips as their watched noblemen preen in their impractical clothes that flashed and blinded people under the summer sun. Back then, Azula and Zuko had listened to him like all subjects listened to future kings - like his words were infallible, ineffable. And Mother had watched them, smiles that never reached head eyes, as Ozai gripped Zuko close and laughed at something. Zuko tried to remember what his laugh might have sounded like, whether it really had been so normal. What had Azula been thinking, then? Had she been so warped yet, or did that come in later.

"Zuko?"

There was a hand between Zuko's shoulder blades and he flinched away violently. Suki startled, drawing away as if she'd burned.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine."

His answer didn't seem to satiate them, if Toph's wide-eyed, worried look was anything to go by. Remembering that Toph could literally see his heartbeat, he tried to calm down.

"This place, uh, has a lot of memories for me," he explained awkwardly, "I'll be fine."

That was better. The others moved into the house, careful not to step on anything broken. Distantly, Zuko was aware of Katara sitting where Azula used to, Sokka touching something that Ozai had once burned Zuko for touching, Aang and Toph playing with something that cost fortunes, Suki stumbling into an old family heirloom.

A part of him was about to scream at them to stop. Did they not know what this place meant to him? To the young Prince who had only ever known this place as home? To the little boy who had never seen his family happier than they had been, in this house?

And another part of him was focused on remembering how to breathe.

A few more weeks, and he would be out of here. After that, when Uncle became Firelord, Zuko would ask to burn this place down. Maybe build an orphanage or a hospital. Something that would make Ozai die twice over.

Until then, he could get through this.

The night felt long. Shorter than the nights at the palace, after Ba Sing Se, but longer than it should. Zuko was busy tossing and turning in bed. It was too soft - it felt like he was sinking, drowning, unable to breathe properly. He was alone - there were enough rooms in the house for everyone to get their own. The dust had been cleared out thanks to Katara and Aang, but it still felt too stuffy. The nights in Ember Island were cool enough to require blankets, but after Zuko felt ridiculously hot. The whole place reminded him of how he and Azula would sneak out to the beach at night to play, because the nights were quieter and they were livelier, away from the gazes of their parents.

He struggled to remember those memories now, washed away by the waves of time. Who had they been then, so young and foolish, laughing as though they would be siblings forever.

Eventually, Zuko dosed off. He woke with a start, blanket tangled around him. In blind panic, he had thought it was Ozai, restraining him and, in his struggle to get out, he fell face first onto hard tatami.

Brilliant.

Zuko pushed himself up with a groan, giving up on sleep. Nightmares would come anyway. He didn't really feel like waking the entire house with them. He tried to be as quiet as possible, as he moved through the hallways. Experience and being the Blue-Spirit made his footfalls lights as he made it out of the house without disturbing anyone.

The night was colder than he had expected, but the sting of it was a welcome one.

Mother used to sit out here, at night. Sometimes, Zuko would sit with her too, and she would hum a shaky tune under her breath. Some nights, Father would come out and ask her to come to bed, and she would go, because no one had ever denied Ozai anything. No one could deny Ozai anything. Zuko would pout, and Ozai would squeeze his shoulder, tight enough to bruise. Zuko had always simply though that's how fathers touched their sons, until he got banished with Uncle.

How had Zuko ever thought any of this had been good?

He remembered collecting seashells on the beach with Azula. He remembered Azula holding him underwater until he ran out of breath.

He remembered Father patting his back when he said something witty. He remembered Ozai holding the back of his neck until he thought it might break.

He remembered Mother smiling. He remembered Mother crying.

And try as he might, he couldn't reconcile any of it. It was like two alternate realities running side-by-side. Zuko had thought that his Agni Kai had been out of nowhere. That Father loved him one day, and banished him the next. He had thought that there had been a clear split, a moment and then the next. But memories blurred, and suddenly, Zuko wasn't so sure anymore. Was it the Agni Kai that had been the worse, or the time that Ozai broke his arm accidentally, or when he had Azula fight him when he knew Zuko would get burned, or when he -

"Oh Oma and Shu, you're doing it again aren't you?"

Zuko's head snapped up, hand creating fire on instinct. Toph flinched.

"Don't burn my feet again."

He winced, "Sorry."

Toph shrugged, sitting down beside him with a loud yawn, "You were stomping around like an elephant tonight."

"Was not!"

"It's okay to put on some weight Sparky."

Zuko sighed, feeling some of the tension in his shoulder leave when faced with the biohazard that was Toph. She grinned.

"So, gonna tell me why your heart is going crazy?"

"Not really, no."

Toph prodded him with her feet, "Well, I'm not Katara. I ain't gonna force you."

Zuko let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He had been getting better about ... opening up, or whatnot. But this was something Zuko didn't want to touch upon ever .

"But hey, if you want to tell me. I'm all ears," Toph offered.

Zuko patted her head. She growled.

"Thanks, Toph."

"Whatever. At least - " she was cut off by a yawn, snuggling into Zuko's side with her feet thrown up on his lap, "At least your heart rate went down."

She fell asleep not a moment later. Zuko gently put her back into bed, stifling a laugh when her feet went up ninety degrees so they wouldn't be touching anything.

He sat back outside, letting his fire keep him warm.

He still couldn't sleep, but he told himself it would be rude to wake Toph up with his irregular heartbeat.

He meditated the night away.

He tried not to think of his mother's red-rimmed eyes, his sisters screaming, his father's laughter, his own bruises and tears and heavy-heart tainting his memories. He wondered how he had survived those three years on the ship, with these being his best memories. How he had wanted to come back to this special little pocket of hell, glittering like gold yet anything but.

Oh, he remembered with a smile, Uncle .

Uncle had been on the ship with him. And now, his friends were with him.

It would be okay. He just needed to forget about the him from before.

(Lie to yourself enough times, and you begin to believe it.)

"I don't think I've slept in a bed that comfortable in a while!" Toph burst out that morning, awake later than everyone else, naturally.

"I don't think I've slept in a bed like that ever, " Sokka said, "Even better than the one at Ba Sing Se."

Zuko twitched slightly, wishing they'd all go back to sleep. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Aang trying his hardest to say in his meditative trance. The sun in Ember Island was different from the northern one in the Western Air Temple. It was almost scalding here, making his inner-fire rage more than usual. Or perhaps it was simply the place he was in that was causing it to react unnaturally. Either way, mediations was needed now more than ever -

Aang's stomach growled.

The younger boy was giving him that look. The wide-eyes cute one that reminded Zuko too much of polarbear puppies.

"Fine. You're doing ten extra hot-squats to make up for it."

Aang groaned, scrambling away to get his share of breakfast. Zuko's stomach churned at the sight of his family - friends - family seated around the chabudai. There were too many of them to fit around the low-table - meant to only seat four - but they managed anyway with a lot of elbowing and grumbling.

They left a seat open for Zuko.

He thought he might be sick.

"Not hungry?" Katara asked as Zuko headed for the door.

"No. I'll go out to the town and see what I can find. Do we need anything?"

Katara rattled off a list of groceries that Zuko committed to memory but was only really half-listening to. He was distracted by the way she sat innocently on his mother's - or was it his, or Azula's, he couldn't remember - place, like she belonged there. There was something about it that made Zuko feel like he was walking on a tightrope, swaying dangerously between a life that was and a life that had never been.

"- someone should go with you," Suki said.

Zuko grumpily shook his head, "You all are terrible actors."

Katara pouted, "Says you!"

"I can fit in, Hotman - " Aang volunteered, only to be tackled by Sokka and given a horrified glance by Katara. Toph was cackling.

Zuko would ask, but he wasn't really in a mood to.

"I'll be fine," he lied.

Trips down memory lane were becoming Zuko's least favourite types of trips, and he had once floated on a piece of driftwood from the Northern Water Tribe to the Colonies with no one but Uncle and fish.

The fish had been more bearable.

(He tried to convince himself of that, anyway. Right now, he would do anything for Uncle's advice. Or - or to apologise for being such a bad son - nephew .)

Walking through Ember Island was nostalgic. Unlike much of the world, Ember Island continued to flourish, the golden beaches and the rooted culture of arts drawing in tourists from everywhere. War had not touched Ember Island like it had other places, even places like Ba Sing Se. There were only two types of people here - people with too much money, or people with talent in making money. Ember Island theatre sat proudly at the town's heart, flyers of various plays being handed out by kids with bright faces and honeyed, practiced words. There was something surreal about the place: how the light bounced off the shops and houses; how people still laughed and cheered at street performers; how unbothered they were about the world outside the Island. Ember Island had always existed in a place apart, in his memories and in reality.

"Hello, Lee ."

Zuko paused.

Sucked in a deep breath,

Let it out slowly.

"What are you doing here, Sokka."

Sokka - that was definitely Sokka - stroked his extra-fake beard in contemplation, "Who is this Sokka you speak of?"

Zuko decided to put him out of his mind and walk on.

"Wait, no, hang on," Sokka lowered his voice conspiratorially, "How'd you know it was me?"

"Only you are this dumb."

Sokka scrunched up his nose, his beard becoming skewed due to the movement. Zuko heaved a sigh and fixed it for him, ignoring his beam.

"My name is Wang Fire," Sokka said in a voice that made Zuko die on the inside, "I come from the colonies."

"Please stop talking."

"You seem to have a lot of pent up anger in you, young one! Have I also mentioned I am a certified therapist?"

"I beg of you, Sok - " Sokka gave him a look. Through gritted teeth, Zuko said, "For the love of Agni, please shut up ... Mr ..." Zuko hated his friends so much sometimes, "Mr Fire."

Sokka grinned so wide it almost made the whole interaction worth it.

Almost.

They moved on from the shop they are at, only to get hounded by a kid with flyers. Sokka was instantly drawn in, nodding sympathetically to the plight of some made-up sap story, reaching into his pocket to give his money away when Zuko stopped him. He glared at the kid till she left.

"Hey! She was a kid, don't be mean."

Being a kid never really amounted to anything in this world, but Zuko wasn't going to be the one to say that. The girl was probably off to trick some other poor soul and honestly, Zuko would be cheering her on.

Zuko rolled his eyes. "What are you doing here anyway?" Zuko asked irritably.

"It's best if we stick together. Who knows what might be out - oh dear Yue is that a wanted poster of me? " he cleared his throat, "I mean. Of Sokka. Devious Water Tribe Traitor and damn I look good in this one."

Zuko frowned at the bulletin, automatically searching for his own face. The Blue-Spirit was there, on proud display, his reputation preceding him. Zuko was on there too, face twisted into a frown and scar far uglier than it really was.

He had been wrong. War had touched Ember Island too. The war had touched everything that Zuko ever loved.

He heaved a sigh, "Come on, let's go. We need to get out of here soon."

Sokka grabbed the Blue-Spirit poster on his way. Zuko gave him a curious look.

"I'm his biggest fan."

The day was going terribly so far, but Zuko bit back a smile at that.

"How do you know he's a he?"

Sokka blanched.

Aang gave him a look that screamed " Why would you do this?"

Zuko grinned back.

"And it is said that they came from the Spirit World, to enact vengeance upon the ashmakers. They are the embodiment of balance, borne of the heavens and raised for justice," Sokka sighed dreamily, "They are so cool."

Aang squeaked, tears in his eyes from trying to hold in his laughter.

"They? I thought he was a he?" Katara said.

"We don't assume genders in this house, Katara," Sokka lectured. He paused, "Do you think I have a chance, whoever they are?"

Zuko chocked. Aang grabbed him and yelled, "Firebending training, gotta go."

They were cackling before they were even out the door.

"We should tell him," Aang said seriously, even though his eyes gave away his laughter, "I feel bad."

"Wang Fire can never know."

Aang giggled, looking at Zuko with something akin to relief.

"What?" Zuko asked, a little self-conscious.

"It's nice to see you smile again," the younger boy admitted, "You've been grumpier than usual, Sifu Hotman."

Zuko tried not to ponder on it as he flicked Aang's forehead lightly, "No wonder we don't let you out of the house. No one uses Hotman anymore."

Aang spluttered indignantly, but he was grinning too brightly to be actually hurt. He turned sombre though, turning to Zuko.

"Hey ... are you okay Zuko?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You have been acting strange. Distant."

Zuko felt himself clamp up, but forced out, "This place ... is a lot. I'll be fine."

Aang didn't look convinced, but he didn't push it.

After the conversation with Aang, Zuko started noticing things. Little things. Like how Suki would drag him into conversations, how Sokka would make stupid jokes, how Toph's punches hurt less than usual, how Katara was putting extra food on his plate.

Maybe that's just how life was. When he had been younger, he had missed all the little signs that painted the bigger picture. Now, older, he had almost missed them again.

It was hard, reminding himself that Ozai was - not gone, not yet - but unable to touch him anymore. It was hard to be loved, when you had spent your entire life telling yourself you could not be.

"Thinking of something?" Suki asked teasingly.

You guys are amazing , was what Zuko wanted to say.

"Nothing," he lied.

The floor of the Agni Kai's arena was not tatami.

That's a ridiculous thing to think. Of course it wasn't - it was cold hard stone, non-flammable and easy to clean, in case of blood stains. They reflected the fires that framed the arena eerily, creating a barrier between him and Father, and the rest of the world. There were so many of them, though Zuko could never really tell how many. Sometimes, he thought there were only a dozen, other times, he thought they outnumbered the stars.

Zuko wasn't sure why he was dreaming of this now. Why was it the Agni Kai that always came back to haunt him - not starving out on sea, not betraying Uncle in Ba Sing Se, not Mother leaving. It always came back to this.

Cleaved. That was Zuko always thought his life to be. Halves that made up a whole. Before Mother, after Mother. Before the Agni Kai, after the Agni Kai. Before Uncle, after Uncle.

But things were mixing into these ugly colours he had never seen before. Ember Island reminded him that nothing in his life had ever been clear cut. Mother left, but she had been gone long before that, far past the horizon, beyond what Zuko could see. The Agni Kai was the last of brutal, unjust things his father had always done to him. And Uncle - he had always been there, and something in Zuko knew that he always would be.

So why did it always come back to this?

Zuko was kneeling on the floor, knees and elbows digging into hard stone. He was trembling like a child, tears running down his eyes - both his eyes.

A part of him was yelling to get up and fight. That he had faced Ozai and come out alive . That he was stronger than this.

And another part, a boy who never aged part thirteen, couldn't move.

In his dreams, Zuko could never see Ozai's face. He had been standing with his back to the fire that day - that is one of the things Zuko remembered the most. How Ozai had stood against the fire, light casting a halo behind a man who pranced around as a Spirit. Thirteen-year-old Zuko had looked up to him, like mortals looked up to the heavens. He had looked up, thinking that there would be mercy. He had hoped that this was all a dream, a sick nightmare, and that Father would cradle his face and wake him up. He had prayed -

And he had burned.

There was screaming.

There were hands reaching for him, too close and too many.

There was this stifling feeling, of being drowned and of being burned.

There was him, running.

Somehow, he ended up on the cold sand of the beach, playing with a lone stick that he found. His throat was raw and his eyes felt puffy but, for the life of him, he couldn't remember why or how.

He could remember Ozai though. He could remember fire. Sometimes, that was all he could remember.

He was tracing the fire insignia onto the sand – how patriotic; Uncle would be proud. The more he did it, the more force he put on the stick, as if trying to curve everything in him out into the sand so that it wouldn't threaten to burst out of him again. He didn't feel big enough to hold everything inside anymore.

The sea was calm, but there was a roaring in Zuko's ears. Tightness in his throat, like Ozai was clamping on it. And maybe he was - it wouldn't be the first.

"Zuko! There you are!"

It was Katara, sprinting towards him, the others hot on her tail. Her brows furrowed in more worry, making Zuko feel guilty for running away.

Suki was the first to reach him, going down on her knees and taking him by the shoulders. She checked him over, her eyes cold calculation like they were in battle. After she realised he was okay, she melted into an embrace.

Zuko wanted to hug back. But it was like his limbs were still locked, waiting for Ozai to tell him it was okay to move. The sand felt like stone, and the stars were fire.

" - Zuko?" Sokka said, pulling Zuko out of his thoughts, "You with us, buddy?"

Zuko felt himself nod.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Aang asked.

Zuko forced the stick back into the sand, tracing the insignia. "I'm fi - "

He must've put too much force, because the stick broke. He looked up, and there were these five pairs of eyes staring down at him with so much concern that he didn't think it was possible anymore, for it all to fit inside his body. It came bubbling out of him, and he couldn't swallow it back anymore -

All he could think about was the kid from the day before, with the flyers, how small she had been. How small Aang and Toph and even Katara were. And yes, they were some of the strongest people Zuko knew - Aang was the Avatar - but they were also children. He couldn't think of them as powerful benders when Aang kept pressing up against his side when he was feeling lonely, or Toph would grip his hand when she was scared. They were so young and untainted and how could someone ever think to hurt them. He had been that young, once, hadn't he? Or maybe, he never had. He couldn't help but think of it now, trying to reconcile the boy laughing on the beaches of Ember Island, to the Prince prostrating in front of his King. That boy, that version of Zuko was -

" He was a child ."

It came out all wrong. All cracked and broken like he was.

He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, begging for it all to stay in. What came out is a ragged whimper.

"Zuko, what's wrong," Katara pleaded, "Tell us."

"I don't -," he tried to breathe, like Uncle told him. It calmed him a little, "I don't know."

Like him, they didn't seem to know what to say. Which is fair. What was there to say?

Why was he so pathe -

"You're doing it again."

Toph's voice was small, but firm.

"You're thinking stupid things about yourself. You're shutting us out. Stop that," Toph tugged his sleeve in frustration, "Talk to us. We're your friends, aren't we?"

"I - "

Zuko didn't know where to start.

In his memories, things are perfect until they're not. Only now does he realise that the pain doesn't start somewhere. It's always there. How do you start explaining something that was always there?

The skin beneath his scar was crawling, itching, like something wanted to come out. Zuko could remember nights when he had pulled at it, screaming, making it worse, and Uncle would hold his hands until he couldn't do it anymore. Zuko would yell about how he would find the Avatar and Uncle, softly, would remind him that it was easier said than done.

But doing was all Zuko was good for. He never knew what to say.

Where did he begin to say this? This wretched, awful feeling of his that never went away - that was always a part of him, only growing stronger now that he was here on Ember Island.

Zuko's hand went up to his scar, running his fingers gently over leathery skin. It did nothing to soothe his aching, but at least he could resist the urge to pull at it again. It had been a long time, since he had been a kid on a ship, withering in pain and making it worse for himself.

For all his memories, only one was as vivid as the night of the Agni Kai. Because even if things were starting to merge together in his mind, the Agni Kai was, and always would be, the splitting point. The before, and the after.

"Do you know what an Agni Kai is?" Zuko managed to ask.

They looked confused, but patient.

He didn't want to burden them with this, but he didn't think he could stop himself anymore.

"The Agni Kai is a fire duel," his hands didn't stop holding his scar, as if trying to shelter it. His voice felt detached from the rest of his body, "Held under the presence of Agni. In theory, the victor is decided by the Spirits themselves. Children under the age of sixteen aren't even allowed to attend. But the Agni Kai had been outdated for centuries, now that people were smarter. Until one night, when the fires were lit again, and people all over the Caldera were invited to attend - children were encouraged, even."

The more he spoke, the more far away he felt. Like he was narrating a play - a tragedy, maybe, but someone else's story. His friends were listening intently, and Zuko wondered if after all this was over, he could tell stories for a living.

"That night, the night of the Agni Kai ... the audience was full. What a spectacle it was. So dramatic, a once-in-a-lifetime show," Zuko felt bitterness climb his throat, but he pushed it away, remaining detached, as though he too had only been a spectator, "I wonder what they thought, when they saw who was on stage. See, the Firelord had called the Agni Kai, but no one had known who he was fighting until they were already seated and waiting. And then they realised -

"The Firelord was fighting his own son."

Zuko blinked fire out of his eyes, trying to remember where he was in the moment. Aang was gripping his hand painfully hard, looking down at the sand. Katara was trembling, Toph's hand in hers. Suki and Sokka were both at Zuko's side.

"You don't have to hear this," Zuko offered tiredly.

Please tell me to stop .

But Sokka had always been firmer than Zuko could ever be, "We want to."

And despite what Zuko thought he would feel at the prospect of his closest people knowing about that night (and maybe hating him for it), he felt lighter than he ever had.

"The Prince was thirteen," Zuko continued, suddenly feeling much calmer, and much more ready to simply put an end to this, "He had not done anything wrong, except want to protect his soldiers. But in the Fire Nation, to the Firelord, talking back was a sign of disrespect. He needed to be taught a lesson."

There was an intake of breath somewhere, but Zuko could only laugh. It must have sounded unhinged, because the grip on his hand only tightened.

"The Firelord was so dramatic about it too. Something about lessons and suffering like he was putting on a show. He probably was," Zuko's voice dropped, the burning in his chest turning to rage, " Father probably revelled in it .

"The boy was on his knees, curled up and so small , He thought his father was reaching out to him to cradle his face. To wipe away the tears and tell him to get up, that the lesson was over," Zuko closed his eyes, tasting smoke, "But the lesson had only just begun. I think he screamed, when his father burned him, but I don't really remember. I just remember that he had thought he deserved it. He had been a child . Why would you do that to a child?"

Zuko's head had been buried between his knees, which is why he didn't notice when his friends moved to surround him. He didn't even know who was hugging him at that point, melting into their warmth like he had never before allowed himself to.

"You don't do that to a child," Sokka said, his voice gruff, "You don't do that to anyone. Only a monster does that. And your dad - that boy's dad was a monster."

"I - " Zuko shuddered, "I was a child. Sometimes I think I never grew up past that. That I died that day and I'm - "

The arms around him tighten. He didn't know what else to say. They were hurt - he could sense Aang and Katara crying even if he couldn't see it. He shouldn't have said anything at all -

"We're glad you told us," Suki said softly, "You're not alone anymore, Zuko."

Zuko still felt like he needed to apologise, so he did. "I'm sorry. This place just ... reminded me."

Katara pulled away, puffy eyes glaring, "Don't apologise! You have nothing to be sorry for. Except bottling it up, maybe."

Zuko cracked a smile, "Sorry about that, then."

Katara huffed, but it came out shaky. Zuko wrapped her arms around him in comfort.

"What about this place reminds you of - of that," Toph asked, looking like she was ready to demolish whatever was triggering Zuko.

Zuko tried to contemplate, "After I was banished, after the Agni Kai," Sokka made a strangled sound, Zuko gave him what he hoped was a reassuring look, "I always used to think of this place as the home I wanted to come back to. I thought I had happy memories here, but I'm starting to realise I had awful ones too. I always sorted my memories like that – The negative thoughts go on the left and the happy things on the right - but now I can't seem to find the divide. It's ... bittersweet now, I suppose. Every memory I have, he was in it. And even back then, he was hurting me - I just didn't remember it. It's stupid - it was always there, and I never noticed. I'm the only one who's surprised."

Sokka buried his head into Zuko's shoulder, shaking his head, "You're not stupid. He was your father - of course you wanted to think the best of him. That's okay , Zuko. That's just what we do. We want our parents to be our protectors. It's hard to think that they're not."

Zuko nodded and didn't say anything. They sat together in silence for a little while, just holding each other. Zuko was the one who broke the silence.

"Aang has training in the morning - "

"Zuko, we were having a moment ."

"Moment over. Get off me, all of you."

Aang and Toph both whined. Zuko was too busy prying them off to notice Sokka drag Suki away, whispering something to her. Katara shrugged at Zuko questioning look, moving to pull at Toph.

"Zuko's right," she said in her mom-voice, "Off to bed."

They walked back, probably waking the entire Island with how loud they were being. Zuko bit back a laugh when Toph cited that forcing a bedtime was considered child abuse in three different nations. The night was cold, but Zuko couldn't help but feel warm.

"Oh, there you are!" Suki greeted them when they made it to the house.

Zuko blinked, glancing at the set-up in the courtyard. They had pulled out their sleeping bags, setting them up against Appa, who was already sound asleep with Momo curled on his head.

"What's happening?" Aang asked.

"We're sleeping out here. The house stinks."

Numbly, Zuko pointed out, "Yesterday you were all going on about how soft the beds were - "

"Hush!" Sokka said as he came out of the house with the last of the blankets, "I was lying to make the beds feel better."

"The beds? "

"Exactly."

Suki frowned, "Firebender, we need fire."

Zuko grumbled, "Is that all I'm here for?"

"No, we love you and care about you very much," Suki waved at the gathered dry-wood, "Now, fire."

We love you .

"That's emotional manipulation, I think," Zuko said numbly, blinking away the stinging in his eyes as he lit the fire.

That night, mostly against his will, Zuko found himself under a tangle of limbs. Aang was sleeping half on him, Toph's legs were across his lap, and Sokka's head was on his shoulder. He couldn't move if he tried.

He found that he didn't mind.

"Out of curiosity," Sokka said the next morning as they all groggily tried to figure out how to manoeuvre themselves out of the cuddle pile, "Is there any other secret you've been keeping that might traumatise us?"

Zuko had a lot, but his eye caught Aang's and he could help but grin.

"I'm the Blue Spirit."

"You're WHAT? "