disclaimer. the timeline continues to spiral into uncharted craziness and yet, atla still doesn't belong to me. oh well.

author's notes. how is it that time in a pandemic both doesn't pass at all, and flies by before you can even blink? seem to have more on my plate than i can chew, so hopefully this next chapter makes up for the wait. i apologize if the writing is awkward in places, chemo brain makes word-finding impossible.

thanks so much to everyone whose been leaving such kind and thoughtful feedback! i cherish everything you guys send me. special shoutout to the lovely commenter who pointed out that this fic is currently 1000 words shy of matching the entire lord of the rings trilogy in length. (being the hugest tolkien nerd, i needed to take a moment to digest that, so thanks for the laugh!)

as always, feel free to find me on tumblr at colourwhirled-writes for general and fic-related updates.

i give you...

southern lights

chapter xlviii. the mask and the veil

i stand in time and watch you pass by
i draw this line and hope you take my side
you shouldn't have to fight alone
it's nobody's battle but your own

"to a friend" / alexisonfire

The wind whips cruelly along the snow-covered streets of Nutjuitok, glowing crystalline white in the stark cover of nightfall. The undisturbed mirror of the water's surface reflects the sky, its spray of stars rolling where the anchored Fire Navy ships groan offshore. Every now and then, the faint glow of firelight waxes and wanes, betraying the positions of the nighttime sentries to the silent saboteurs skulking in the shadows below.

"Remember to wait for my mark," Toph hisses out the corner of her mouth, her forehead furrowed deep with concentration and her hand planted on the wall of one of the small huts lining the city's modest harbour. "And not a moment sooner...unless you want those soldiers to serve up fried Sweetness for breakfast tomorrow."

Katara grimaces at the idea, adjusting her broad brimmed hat where it sits on her head. The wind rustles along the folds of her cloak and the lawn of her veil, its chill breath nipping against the stripes of red paint still dripping wet on her exposed skin.

Straightening in the corner next to her, Aang twirls his glider in his outstretched hand before snapping it open. "Ready?" he asks, his grey eyes somehow luminous in the pitch blackness.

Oh spirits, I've finally lost my mind. She swallows nervously before nodding. "I'm ready," she whispers, her voice faint in her ears.

Aang falters, searching her face before turning to Toph. "Be careful," he warns. "And don't take any stupid risks -"

"Little late for that, isn't it, Twinkletoes?" Toph interrupts dryly.

He lets out an aggravated sigh. "Well, don't take any more stupid risks than absolutely necessary," he corrects, before nodding at the others crouched behind him. "Come on, let's go."

And without a further word, he flies off into the darkened alleyway, toward the giant canal that separated the main city from the docks and all the Fire Navy ships anchored there. Ruon-Jian and Ryu glance at each other dubiously before following, hugging the shadows gathering deep and dark along the sides of the buildings flanking them on either side.

"Well, looks like it's just you and me, Sweetness," Toph declares. "Just like old times."

"I know," Katara mumbles, her blood running cold at the daunting task before them. What if it doesn't work, what if it all goes wrong, what if -

But then Toph's hand clamps down on her shoulders, jolting her back to awareness. "We don't have to go through with this if you're scared," she offers in an uncharacteristically solemn voice. "You don't have your bending. There's no shame in walking away."

"No," Katara forces out, her resolve instantly hardening next to the easy escape that Toph dangles before her.

After all, the only reason she walked free was because of Zuko's sacrifice. Who knew what he was enduring back in the Fire Empire capital at the hands of his evil father and sister, if he was even alive? Compared to what he faced, her path was easy.

And if he could be that brave, then so could she.

"We have to try," she says quietly. "I want to try."

"Okay." Toph tilts her head, scrunching her face in concentration before pointing ahead. "That way."

She has barely finished speaking before Katara breaks into a run. She dashes toward the mouth of the alley opening into the street with all the healing huts and the bodies still piled before them. Revulsion churns the pit of her gut, but then the telltale glow of approaching Empire patrollers approaches.

Melting into the shadows, her pulse drumming somewhere in her throat as the soldiers march closer and closer. A silent prayer loud in her mind, to summon the spirits or the last shreds of her courage, she isn't quite sure. Her fingers wrap around one of the small smoke grenades tucked into her belt. She would have preferred the reassuring weight of her waterskin, but it was useless to her without her bending.

She waits until the soldiers have all but passed her before she charges forward, cutting across the street in the blink of an eye.

"What was that?" one of the soldiers asks, stopping in his tracks and glancing back over his shoulder.

"What was what?" his partner asks witheringly.

"I thought I heard someone…" The soldier's voice trails off uncertainly, scanning the shadows and the ice-covered path behind him for footprints.

Katara pulls the pin of one of the smoke grenades before lobbing it at the soldiers. It lands right in between the both of them, stopping in between their boots.

"What -"

Then an explosion of smoke erupts around the pair of them. Their coughing and spluttering wafts through the air like the thick grey clouds blanketing the broad street.

Katara takes advantage of the cover to scale the wall of the healing hut behind her, quickly clambering onto the sloping rooftop. She skulks low, surveying the grid of Nutjuitok spreading out below. Over by the small port, where all the Fire Navy ships were still anchored, she spots Aang's silhouette gliding against the starlit sky. Twin shadows trail him on the pathway below, weaving toward the ugly makeshift storage block where Admiral Chan's soldiers kept their equipment.

But then the sound of more footsteps head in her direction. More Fire Navy guards approach, drawn by the sound of the explosion. She watches predatorily as another pair rounds the corner, freezing at the smoke filling the street in front of them.

"For Agni's sake," one of them begins to complain, reaching for his horn, "what's going on here?"

She hurls another grenade at him and ducks low to avoid being seen. The resulting blast is loud in her ears, the surprised yells and coughing of the soldiers in the street below a grimly satisfying sound.

Then the pitchy wail of an alarm horn echoes through the night air, drawing the attention of yet more sentries. Katara takes advantage of the confusion, racing to the edge of the rooftop before leaping into the air and landing with a skid on the roof of the building immediately next to the healing hut.

"Look! Up there!" someone yells from below. "Is that a person?"

Reaching into her belt, she withdraws the old bone flute that her father had once carved. Drawing a shaking breath, she blows into it. The off-key note trills through the air, a surreal, vaguely unsettling sound.

A burst of fire hurtles toward her and she stretches out her arms. The heavy arctic wind flaps against her cloak, causing them to swell and billow around her like a flag at half-mast.

Suddenly, a pillar of rock surges through the snow, swatting the incoming fire out of the way lazily.

Thanks, Toph, Katara thinks grimly, already jumping onto another neighbouring rooftop. Great timing.

"Is that an earthbender?"

"You fool, did that look like earthbending to you?"

"Now that you mention it…"

Good, Katara thinks to herself as a small crowd gathers below, coughing and spluttering as they try to clear the smoke gathering thick and heavy along the street. The more soldiers, the more witnesses.

She puts the flute to her lips and her fingers pick out a small clear melody, a lullaby her mother had once sang to her. A lilting, haunting tune that spoke of spirits and sends goosebumps down her spine.

"That sound! Where's it coming from?"

"Back there! On the rooftop! Get her!"

More fire gushes forth from the ground below, spraying into the air and catching some of the wooden huts lining the street. Katara leaps from one building to another, pausing on one of the lower shacks to play another note on her flute.

"Wait!" someone cries, his voice high-pitched with sudden fear. "Look at her, doesn't she look familiar?"

"You been pounding the cactus juice again, Jiro?"

"No, look! Just look at her…"

The fire rushing toward her suddenly weakens and puffs out into a sad trickle, easily blown away by the breeze. The soldiers, obscured by the thick smoke, slowly lower their arms, squinting at her silhouette standing prim and tall atop the low, long building.

As though in response to the warbling notes of her unsettling lullaby, more jagged rocks split through the ice-covered ground, floating upward in defiance of gravity. The guards cry out in shock as the boulders finally halt, hovering motionlessly in the air before her, at level with her feet.

With a sharp breath, she steps forward boldly, landing on one of them. She tries her best not to look at the empty air yawning below her.

"It's her! The Painted Lady!"

"No, it can't be her -"

"What is she doing here?"

A loud, rhythmic sound, like something heavy pounding against the ground and growing nearer with every breath, like the thudding footsteps of an approaching spirit monster, cuts them off. Katara smiles grimly before lowering her flute and tilting the brim of her hat to bare her painted face.

A collective gasp of shock and terror meets her as she raises her hands. The biting wind swirls around her, sweeping the translucent lawn of her veil into a strange halo surrounding her entire body.

"You have turned your backs on the spirits that protected you," Katara whispers hoarsely, in the most spirit-like voice she can muster. "I restored your lands, healed your sick, and gave you a place in the sun. And in return...this is how you thank me."

"No!" one of the soldiers, an older one by the sound of his voice, cries out in alarm. "Painted Lady -"

"You have destroyed the moon spirit, one of my dearest friends," Katara continues in her croaking spirit-wail. "You spread destruction and crippled the North - an entire innocent civilization -"

"What does that matter to her?" someone else interrupts crossly. "Since when has the Painted Lady cared for these barbarians scrabbling in the ice at the end of the world?"

Katara's arms snap to her sides. A deafening crash rattles the ground beneath their feet - something immensely heavy slamming into the earth. Whimpers of fear rise up from beneath her and she raises her arms again. The loud pounding sounds stop, the sudden silence somehow stifling and eerier by comparison.

"Whatever walks this earth is under my care, human," she spits vehemently. "But you have thrown the world out of balance." She glances up, across the rooftops and the canals to the Fire Navy base, where a glimmering beacon of light catches her attention. Nodding she lowers her head menacingly. "And now...you will pay the price!"

Raising her flute to her lips, she plays a single shrill note as loudly as she can, its discordant screech resonating through the windy night air.

Suddenly, more explosions - louder and far larger than any that had threatened the soldiers - tear along the docks, consuming all the bobbing ships in rapid succession. The angry red glow of fire illuminates the smoking remains of the weapons stores, and all the flying pieces of Fire Navy equipment as they sail through the air in an arcing trajectory.

Satisfaction coils hot in her chest as the guards below scream in horror.

"Our ships!"

"What - how - how did she -"

She raises a single hand in warning. The smoke dances around her ominously. "Leave this place," she commands darkly. "And never return. And if you harm one more innocent...next time, I won't stop at just your ships and your weapons, firebenders."

A gust of wind sweeps in from the preternaturally still water, tainted with the scent of fire and fuel. It shrieks as it rushes through the street, battering the partly burned buildings and nearly threatening to knock Katara off her precarious perch.

She grits her teeth, planting her feet the way Toph had shown her. The flapping of her cloak and veil nearly deafens her, but they still weren't loud enough to drown out the terrified yelps of all the soldiers, scrabbling back and staggering away as fast as their feet could carry them.

"You heard her, let's go!"

"Fall back! Fall back to Aujuittuq!"

"Retreat!"

By the time the smoke finally clears from the street, only their harried tracks remain, heavy footprints cut into the smooth, glistening ice.

"Not bad," Toph remarks, stepping out from her hiding-spot around the corner. With a grunt, she lowers all the floating rocks back to the ground. "They couldn't get out of here fast enough."

Katara grins as she jumps off, grateful for the solid ice beneath her feet once again. "Well, that went as smoothly as it could, but I have a feeling it won't be so easy next time."

"Yeah." Toph frowns as she cocks her head, sensing the hasty retreat of the frenzied Fire Navy soldiers. "Next time, we probably won't be facing a bunch of superstitious yellowbellies from every rinky-dink town in the homeland."

"Probably not," Katara admits, glancing up as the wind pitches sharply and then abruptly stills to a halt. "Was you blowing all that hot air, Aang?"

The young Air Nomad grins from his perch atop a neighbouring hut, before leaping down to join them. "Pretty impressive, right?" He rubs the back of his head bashfully. "I know the destruction of the moon spirit did terrible things to the world...but my bending's never been stronger."

"Same," Toph agrees with a shrug. "Oh well, you win some, you lose some."

"No kidding," Katara breathes. "If you were able to bend all that wind all the way from the harbour, while taking out all those Fire Navy ships…"

"And their weapons stores too!" Aang puffs up proudly. "Well…that was courtesy of Ryu and Ruon-Jian, I can't take all the credit myself."

"Speaking of, where are those two hotheads anyway?" Toph interjects with a frown.

"Oh! I flew back ahead of them. They jumped back into the tunnels and said they'd meet us back at the hideout. Speaking of which…" He glances around warily. "We should probably get a move on. The soldiers might be retreating, but let's not hang out here like sitting turtleducks."

"Right," Katara agrees, raising her hand and adopting her mystical spirit-voice. "Lead the way, young Master Aang."

His grin widens as he races back to the mouth of the narrow escape tunnel burrowed into the middle of the narrow alleyway. "I have to say, Katara, you make a great spirit! Very convincing!"

"Yeah!" Toph agrees from somewhere behind Katara, her head still cocked for any pursuers. "And the bit with the flute? Genius!"

Katara smiles as she lowers herself into the cramped tunnel. "Aw. Thanks, you guys. But I couldn't have done it without you two."

"Well, without your showmanship, we'd just be a bunch of benders doing basic tricks," Aang returns, before his voice turns thoughtful. "Maybe next time, I'll hang around with you too. You could try flying, that'd really spook them out…"

Katara shudders, thinking of how unsteady she'd felt on Toph's hovering rock, and how much worse it would feel with just Aang's air currents. Then her thoughts turn to Zuko, a lonely prisoner at his father's mercy, and she musters her courage. "Sure. Let's do it."

With a thump, Toph lands in the tunnel behind her and swings the door shut. Katara blinks stupidly, blind in the pitch blackness swallowing them.

Aang realizes his mistake, groaning loudly. "Monkeyfeathers! I knew I shouldn't have let Ryu and Ruon-Jian go ahead without us!" he gripes, with a sound like a smack to his forehead. "How are we supposed to see down here now?"

"Oh, what a nightmare!" Toph mocks, pushing her way in front of them. "Come on. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can spook some of the soldiers as they're skipping town."

Katara's smile quickly turns into a wicked grin at the suggestion. "Now there's an idea. What was that about pretending to fly, Aang?"

The early spring sun peeks through the heavy cloud covering the sky in a thick grey blanket, filtering through the needles of the evergreen trees lining the edge of the forest, just beyond the nondescript village walls.

Lee ignores them as he jostles his pack, heavy with gathered firewood cut and whittled from the fallen tree trunks off the beaten path. The air within the forest gathers stifling and close, too still and too quiet for comfort. Apart from the wind, blowing more strongly than usual and rustling the bare branches with a deep groan, there was no other sound. No scurrying small creatures, no singing birds.

A twig snaps under his boot and the resultant crunch nearly makes him jump. He spins around wildly, before cursing his own paranoia. A glimmer in the corner of his eye catches his attention and he whirls toward it, staring at the shimmering light dancing in the distance, amid a thicket of shrubbery and well off the path.

He frowns, staring at it in wonder. Must be a pool of water, he thinks to himself dismissively, or something else reflecting the light.

But a strange feeling settles over him, a feeling of overwhelming familiarity, as the light sways and shifts into the shape of a silhouette. His breath hitches in his throat as the colours ripple into focus: the blue of her clothing, the dark rope of her braid, the nut-brown skin the same shade as his own…

The wind tears at his skin as he dashes toward it, his heart drumming madly. The waterbender from the Sun Warriors isle, his own sister, draws ever nearer.

Just a little bit closer, he thinks desperately, just a little more and I'll find you again -

"Ow!"

The world suddenly flips onto its side. Pain shoots blinding fireworks along the front of his body as he trips and falls face first into the dirt. Blinking stars out of his eyes, he scrambles onto all fours before glancing up desperately where the waterbender's silhouette had hovered.

Instead, he finds himself staring at a small clearing in the middle of the woods, some mossy boulders and fallen tree trunks covered in lichen, surrounding a small pool of water. And seated on one of the flat-topped rocks, her broken leg plastered and stretched out in front of her, is Suki.

He falters, pushing up to his knees as she stares at him, momentarily alarmed by his presence before her expression shifts into a scowl. Before he has a chance to say anything, she turns away from him, glaring back at the surface of the water.

Lee swallows nervously, glancing around him for Ty Lee or anyone else. "What are you doing here?" he chances, getting slowly to his feet. "Shouldn't you be back in the village, resting?"

Suki doesn't look away from the water. "I needed some air," she answers shortly, nudging her wooden crutch, lying beside her in the dirt. "I was losing my mind underground."

"I get that," he replies, his heart pounding nervously as he takes a tentative step toward her. His mouth goes dry at the unmoving lines furrowing her brow, the contours of her bones pressing up along the exposed skin of her neck.

"So, uh…" he begins awkwardly, deciding to settle an arm's length away just in case she had enough left in her to lunge at him, "I guess you're pretty mad at me, huh?"

She scoffs, and the sound of it relieves him inexplicably, even as her voice drips with derision. "Me, mad? At you? What gives you that idea?"

"Um," Lee says, backing away slowly as her scowl deepens, "I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that you're being really, really sarcastic right now. And that you're trying to set that pool on fire with your eyes because you can't, uh, take it out on me like you probably want to."

The tight press of her mouth loosens somewhat. "How remarkably perceptive of you," Suki retorts witheringly.

He latches on to the sound of her voice, the fact that she was finally reacting to him instead of giving him the silent treatment. It heartens him for the first time since they'd broken out of Lake Laogai. "I can be perceptive sometimes," he says to the unyielding profile of her face. "I'm not always hopeless, Suki."

She sighs loudly, her eyes fluttering shut. "What do you want from me, Lee?"

"Nothing!" he exclaims too loudly and too quickly, his cheeks flaring suddenly hot. "I just - uh -"

"Do you want me to tell you that everything's okay?" Suki barrels over him, still staring deeply into the swirling pool of water, its surface winking with the remaining daylight. "That I forgive you for dragging us into an obvious trap, getting us all imprisoned, and then turning around to help the same monsters who tortured me the whole time?"

He gapes at her as her silence gathers expectantly. "Of course not," he recovers weakly. "That would be stupid."

"Well," Suki seethes quietly, "it's a good thing I'm not stupid, then."

"But for what it's worth," he blurts out helplessly, "I'm really sorry."

He doesn't miss the faint roll of her eyes as she mutters under her breath, "Of course you are."

"No, but really," he presses on, not really understanding the desperation that drives him, or why it should matter at all that Suki was mad at him. Not just annoyed in the heat of the moment as she usually was, but well and truly angry. That he had somehow broken the fledgling trust between them and didn't know if he'd gone too far, if he'd ever get it back. "I know I messed up, Suki. I should have considered the risks of going into Laogai, just like you said. I'm an idiot for not noticing that it was an obvious trap, and if there was a way I could do it again without putting you in danger, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

She pauses, her nostrils flaring officiously, but says nothing in response.

"And - and it kills me that you had to be the one they captured," he continues in a strangled voice. "It should have been me in there, being interrogated and tortured and spirits' knows what else…" He clears his throat uncomfortably. "It should have been me. Not you."

Suki finally moves at last, shifting around suddenly to face him head on. Her mouth drops open in shock as she stares at him with luminous grey eyes, one slitted nearly shut by the dark purple bruise swelling around it. "You're serious," she breathes disbelievingly.

"Of course I'm serious!" he cries. "Why would I joke about something like this?"

Suki shrugs, and then immediately winces in pain. "I don't know. You joke about absolutely everything else."

"Well, I'm not joking now," he says firmly. "I mean it, Suki...I'm sorry."

She continues to stare at him incredulously, as though he had suddenly begun to speak a different language altogether, one that she couldn't understand. "And, and you don't have to forgive me," he continues when her silence drags on. "You've got every right to be mad at me and to not trust me, and to question my choices because let's be honest, my plans haven't been great at keeping us safe so far -"

"No," Suki allows quietly, "no, they haven't."

"But I want you to understand one thing," he says, plying her with the weight of his gaze. "You have to - you need to understand, Suki. I didn't let the waterbenders join us as a way to disrespect you. I never meant it that way."

"I know," Suki mumbles, even as her face darkens instantly.

"It's just - they were misled by Long Feng too," he tries to explain, even as the expression on her face grows more forbidding with every word. "I spoke with some of them while I was imprisoned, and...and they're just lost and confused, Suki. They lost everything and they just wanted a way to fight back."

But Suki lets out a long deep exhale. "How noble of them to choose torturing innocent people," she says acidly.

He nods urgently. "Look, I know the sight of them makes you angry. I feel that way whenever I see the ones who murdered Jun!" And before he could fight it, the bounty hunter's face flashes before his eyes. "But…but it looks like they've completely lost their bending now, and that means Long Feng will want them gone. We can't let that happen."

"You mean you can't let that happen," Suki says pointedly. "Because you're one of them, aren't you?"

He stares at her in open-mouthed shock as her eyes narrow suspiciously. "They're from the Southern Water Tribe, aren't they? Just like Katara. Just like you."

Lee falters helplessly, the image of the waterbender flitting unsettlingly through his head. "I don't know who I really am," he mumbles, his head dropping down so he can stare at his knees instead. "My memories are all out of whack, Suki… I can guess, but I don't know."

"Well, if I had to guess," Suki ventures, adjusting the poultice clamped along the side of her bruised face, "I'd say you can't let go of your last link to who you really are. Even if it means exposing us all to people we really shouldn't trust."

His breath hitches in his throat.

"You'll do what you have to do, I suppose," Suki says. "I hope you're right about them. But after what they did to me...I'm going to need more convincing."

"That's all I'm asking," he tells her desperately. "To just...try giving them a chance? You don't even have to do it right away, stay mad for a while longer if you need to. Hell, you might even scare them into cooperating with us more if you do!"

She gives him a very weak smile and he grins back at her, relief battering relentlessly at him. Then she glances over her shoulder at the pool of water, at the twisted shapes reflected in the dark mirror of its surface. "I'm not making any promises," she says warily. "But I appreciate your apology."

"You should," he tries to joke weakly. "They don't happen very often."

"I imagine not," Suki answers solemnly before she glances at him again. She holds out her hand expectantly. "Now, help me up."

The torches set in their brackets flicker brightly, illuminating the low ceilings and cell doors studding the cold stone walls of the Empire's capital prison.

But from Zuko's vantage point, crouched in the mouth of one of the many air supply chutes embedded throughout the building, the wavering light only deepens the shadows stretching along the corridors. It makes the approach of the numerous guards harder to see, forcing him to rely on his other senses to detect their approach. Like the sounds of their voices, echoing around the corners in low murmurs difficult to place. The rhythm of their footsteps, the jangling of keys looped in their belts, growing louder or fainter depending on which way their patrol took them.

He bites back a sigh, willing himself to remain perfectly silent. Dressed from head to toe in soft black, he feels safer in the shadows than anywhere else. Only the bright blue mask covering his face risks betraying his presence. He glances out the barred window at the end of the hall, cursing how the slitted eye-holes of the mask restricted his vision, but thankful that the moon no longer shone. For all that its loss had erased waterbending from the world, its light would have only made his task harder.

Approaching footsteps echo around the corner before two guards emerge into view, their deep red prison uniforms clearly visible in the light of the torches. Zuko holds his breath, drawing back and blending even further into the shadows.

He can barely pick out their conversation from where they stand, a few doors down, but he hears their laughter faintly, before the pair of them separate. One walks deeper into the narrow corridor, while the other marches toward its other end, passing right under the air chute where Zuko lurks like a patient, hungry spider.

Even as the sound of both their footsteps eventually fade into silence, Zuko doesn't dare move. Instead, he counts silently in his head, taking stock of all the other sounds that filled the prison's nighttime silence. The whimpering of prisoners in their cells, the clank of chains against stone. The drip of water along the walls, and the barely audible whoosh of chilly air from outside, rustling through the supply chutes feeding all throughout the building.

It had been Mai who had pointed out an opening to one of the supply chutes located outside his cell, just next to the window. From then on, he'd made quick work of the lock bolting him behind bars using the blade she'd lent him. After that, it had been easy to slip outside, the bars on the window set far too wide apart to deter any prisoner from actually escaping. A short climb of the window-sill and a leap and he was already clambering into the chute, its extensive network granting him easy access to anywhere in the entire building.

Still, he waits in the vent of the air supply chute feeding the third floor landing. The guards return from their patrols, exchange a quick conversation, and march off again before he finally moves. Careful to slide the slitted vent cover back in place before he jumps down, landing soft as a cat-owl tracking its prey. Crouching low in the shadows where the torchlight doesn't pierce, he delves deeper into the corridor, pausing briefly to check each cell along the way.

Mai had said the boy was being held on the third floor, but she hadn't been more specific, and there was no shortage of prisoners being held. Zuko grits his teeth, wondering how many of the pitiful people slumbering behind bars were actually criminals or mere political dissidents imprisoned for speaking out against his father's tyranny. Then the sound of the guards' footsteps grows suddenly louder and he shakes his head, forcing himself to focus. The rest of them can wait for another night.

He runs through the layout of the building quickly in his head. The prison was a flat, rectangular building with its corridors in a corresponding shape. If he had been a high-security prisoner and his cell was located in the heart of the corridor, further from the main entrance, then it stood to reason that the so-called "ringleader" of the fuel protests would be held in a similar spot. Racing against the time marked by the nearing footsteps of the guards, a wave of relief bombards him as he rounds the corner and finally finds the boy's cell.

From the dim sliver of light peering through the grate set in the door, he can see the boy's face glowing white in the dark. The boy himself is curled up in a ball on the floor, shivering and crying piteously. Something wrenches in Zuko's gut at the sight of it, prompting him to pull out the blade that Mai had given him and pick the lock bolting the cell door shut.

The door swings open with a faint creak. Zuko slips into the cell, bracing for the nearing footsteps to suddenly pick up speed. But they continue at their steady pace and he sighs with relief. They didn't hear, that's good -

"Who...who are you?"

Zuko turns around slowly. Through the narrowed vision of his mask, he perceives the young boy staring at him with widening eyes, as he slowly pushes up to a crouch. "Are you a spirit?"

The guard's footsteps grow even louder, warning of his looming approach. Zuko weighs his odds, wondering how to answer. To give away his identity was begging for his father and Azula to kill him instantly, and this was the only chance he had to take matters into his own hands. He couldn't risk losing it - not now, not in any way.

He puts a finger to his lips, motioning for quiet. To his relief, the boy seems to understand, falling silent in an instant.

Taking his eyes off the boy, Zuko studies the cell with a quick scan. It appeared to be laid out exactly like his own, with the grille holding the young prisoner in a small space, and more bars along the slitted window set in the wall facing east. The glint of starlight winks back at him conspiratorially.

The beginnings of a plan form vaguely in his mind. It had been child's play to sneak out of his own cell in the same fashion, after all.

He steps forward with the thin blade, and it's the work of seconds before it catches at the lock with a small click. With a grunt of effort, he pulls at the grille door and it slides open with a shrill creak. Wincing, he motions for the boy to come out. Hurry, quickly.

But the boy looks at him with fear in his eyes. "Is this a trick?" he whispers in a voice hoarse from crying.

Zuko shakes his head impatiently, his pounding heart drowning out the clock ticking down a warning in his ears.

"You're freeing me?" The boy staggers to his feet, scrawny and pale and swaying slightly. "Why?"

Zuko bites back his exasperated retort, instead motioning dismissively. No time to explain. Hurry.

Luckily, the boy doesn't push any further, choosing instead to tiptoe cautiously through the gap in the bars. Temporarily forgetting his misery, he stares unabashedly at Zuko, his eyes lingering on the garish smile and empty black eyes of the laughing blue mask.

Zuko swallows his annoyance, so preoccupied with sliding the bars back shut that he momentarily forgets about the guards on their patrol in the outside corridor. Until -

"Who left the door open?"

Zuko whirls around as the voice spills into the cell loudly, unpleasantly. Curses inwardly at the sight of one of the guards standing in the doorway, framed by the light pouring in from the hallway. And the aghast expression spreading over his face at the sight of his prisoner being freed by some - some thing.

Before anyone could say anything, the guard's face twists into a forbidding scowl. Zuko watches as though in slow motion as he lunges toward them, already shifting into an offensive firebending stance.

There was no time to think, no time to waver.

Zuko charges forward, clamping down on the guard's upraised palms and stifling the flames growing there. A sudden shift of his weight and he flips the man over. The guard grunts loudly as he slams onto the ground. His yells for help splits the silent prison air, before Zuko jabs a thumb in the back of his neck.

He falls silent instantly, knocked out cold.

From a fair distance, probably the other side of the floor, someone else answers. "Iori? Iori, is that you? Is everything okay?"

"Oh no," the boy behind him whimpers fearfully, shuffling where he cowers, "oh no, oh no -"

Zuko tries to block it out, the boy's anxious muttering and the hurried footsteps of the second guard shattering his plans like cold water. He stares at the window, its bars seeming to mock him. Gritting his teeth, he glances down at the unconscious guard. The glint of metal catches his eye.

He kneels over the man, staring at the ring of keys looped around his belt, and the sword holstered to his back. Since when have prison guards carried swords, he wonders briefly, before another idea strikes him.

Prying them off the guard's prone form, he gestures at the boy for help.

Together, they manage to drag him into the boy's cell and turn him onto his side, facing the wall. With luck, nobody would look too closely.

Zuko swings the cell door shut, grabbing the boy's hand and ducking into the shadows deepening in the corner of the room. Just as the second guard pauses in front of the door, peering in through the grate.

"Iori," the second guard calls in confusion, "Iori, are you there?"

But Iori doesn't reply from where he's curled up on the ground in the cell, and his partner already starts to move away, not noticing anything amiss. From where he crouches next to Zuko, the boy lets out a slow hiss of relief as the footsteps outside begin to recede.

That was too close, Zuko thinks to himself, closing his eyes before he springs to his feet. His trick had fooled the guard for now, but he was still searching for his missing partner. Sooner or later, he would be back, maybe with reinforcements. They needed to disappear, and quickly.

He makes his way to the window, sliding through the wide-set bars and staring out beyond the ledge. His heart plummets.

Unlike his cell on the sixth floor, there were no air supply chutes near this window offering an easy escape. He weighs his options, studying the distance to the ground - too far a drop down, within sight of the men guarding the prison entrance, but with the forest lining the building's perimeter in sprinting distance.

"You're joking," the boy breathes disbelievingly from behind him. "We can't jump from here!"

He makes an annoyed gesture, instructing the boy to follow. It's either this or death for you, boy. Come on.

"I can't!" the boy whines gratingly. "I'm - I'm afraid of heights, I can't, I can't -"

Zuko stares at the ground in the distance, before his hands clutch the bars in silent despair. His jaw clenches uncompromisingly before he finally leaps back down from the window, seething silently.

"What are we going to do now?" the boy whispers. Zuko closes his eyes, reminding himself that the boy was still young, innocent, up to his neck in matters he didn't even understand. All to appease his father's bloodlust, his illusion of power and control.

Then, as the lone guard's footsteps grow distant and quiet, he holsters the stolen swords and straps them to his back.

Motioning for the boy to follow, he sneaks back into the hallway. Clinging to the shadows, he waits for the boy to exit before shutting the door and locking it with the stolen keys, as quietly as he could manage.

Glancing up at the ceiling, he studies the pipes running along it, illuminated in the flaring yellow torchlight. He grabs the boy by his shaking wrist and together, they race down the corridor in the direction opposite from the guard's patrol.

But the sounds of the guard's calls echoes all throughout, growing louder with urgency until it's finally punctuated by the wail of an alarm horn.

Shit.

The boy meets his gaze with terror in his big dark eyes. Zuko only points to the grate in the ceiling leading to the air vents, before leaping upward, tearing the covering open and scrambling into the small chute.

He leans over the opening, both arms outstretched to grab the boy. But the young prisoner remains frozen in place, petrified by the sound of the alarm.

Zuko snarls quietly, remembering the boy's fear of heights. But there was nothing else for it. He could already hear the thuds of more guards approaching from the nearby stair landing.

Perhaps the growing threat of discovery sparked a moment of bravery in the little boy, because he finally shakes his head. His eyes squeeze shut tightly as he grabs Zuko's forearms, his fingers a bruising vice-grip digging into his sleeves.

With a grunt of effort, Zuko hoists him up into the air chute, sliding the vent cover back in place just as some more guards dash past the corridor beneath them. He leans back against the flimsy walls, gasping for breath. Sweat slicks his skin and he wishes he could take off his mask. But even if he somehow managed to secret the boy to safety, there was no guarantee that he would protect Zuko's identity. It was safer for everyone that way.

"That was close," the boy whispers, his voice rising out of the pitch blackness. Zuko feels him shift his weight, resting against his feet so he can feel the frantic thumping of the boy's heart. "What now?"

Zuko tries to point, gesturing for the boy to follow him, but in the dark it was next to useless. In the end, he settles for crawling along the cramped duct and hoping the boy would have the sense to follow.

"Hey! Wait for me!" hisses the boy from some distance behind, before scrabbling to catch up.

Zuko breathes through his mask in relief.

He navigates the network of air ducts in silence, pausing every now and then to peer out a vent covering when they pass one. By now, Zuko deduces that most guards in the building were up on the third floor, searching for their missing colleague. Maybe by morning they would still be searching, giving them a window of opportunity to break out -

"What is it?" the boy whispers, bumping into Zuko as he stills in his tracks. "What's wrong?"

Zuko scowls, examining what lay below the mouth of the vent opening. If his memory served him correctly, he had been expecting it to lead outside, just beyond the back wall of the prison, where they could jump down and make a dash for the forest. Instead, he only sees a hallway landing, identical to the one they had escaped from, and a guard waiting at each of the four doors.

Fighting a groan, he falls back on his haunches, his breathing laboured and harsh. Not only had he somehow gotten them lost in the air supply network, but the discovery of the missing guard had also tightened the prison's security. Every exit was now guarded and under watch, from what he could see.

But then, the faint whistle of fresh air sings in his ears.

Straightening, he glances in its direction, scrambling toward it. Where there was fresh air, there was a possible way out.

He crawls around a corner and squinting in the distance, his spirits finally rise at the sight of light glimmering faintly at the end of the tunnel.

Praying that the ground outside it remained unguarded, he clambers blindly toward it. The thumping shuffling sounds of the boy trailing him echo all around him.

He nearly reaches the opening when, to his alarm, the duct beneath him creaks loudly.

His heart jumps up into his throat as he freezes, and so does the boy behind him. Holding his breath, he waits and listens quietly, in case any of the guards had heard.

But the moment drags on without any commotion and he slumps over in relief. Nothing. Thank Agni.

He waits a few moments longer, judging the sounds below the chute before crawling ahead, relief battering him on all sides. The mouth of the tunnel draws closer, just within reach -

"Ahhh!"

Zuko jumps up and immediately slams his head against the top of the duct. Blinking stars out of his eyes, he whips around, dazed and horrified at the sudden deafening crash and accompanying screech of terror. He stares at the hole in the bottom of the pipes with growing dread, the abrupt thud of someone landing on the ground below and answering moan of pain.

Oh Agni, he thinks frantically, crawling toward the edge of the hole and peering over its edge. The boy lies sprawled on the cold stone floor, stunned and already trying to sit up slowly. Fear dances in his big brown eyes as the guards in the room notice him and draw near.

Zuko rubs his aching head in a growing panic, his gaze flitting from the tantalizing exit of the air chute within reach, and the boy surrounded on all sides by guards.

Breathe, he reminds himself, just breathe.

If the mouth of the air duct was nearby, then that must mean that the room below was also near an exit. He studies the scene below, counting rapidly. There were four guards looming over the boy, and none were watching anywhere else.

Making his decision in a split second, he drops from the hole where the weakened duct had creaked and broken under the boy's weight. Falling through the air silently, unnoticed until -

He lands on one guard, who crumples instantly to the ground from the impact. Before the others even realize what was happening, he leaps into the air again. Crashes into another by the shoulders and brings him down with the force of his momentum.

"What - what the -?"

Springing back to his feet, he charges one of the two remaining guards. His opponent hunches forward, anticipating his blow. Zuko hisses, ducking out of the way just in time. Smoke rises from the spot where he had just been standing, the guard's face appearing scared but determined nonetheless.

Zuko takes advantage of the moment by jabbing at the man's outstretched arm. His opponent clutches at it with a sudden yelp of pain, staggering backward. Zuko charges, toppling the man over onto his back, the back of his head colliding with the stone with an unpleasant crunch.

He sprints toward the fourth, final guard, who remains frozen in place. His face turns sheet-white as Zuko stops just in front of him, the points of his swords grazing his neck in warning.

The guard's eyes flick to his other three colleagues, all moaning in pain or horribly silent on the ground in barely the blink of an eye. Then he glances back at the blue mask laughing in his face, wilting before its menacing stare.

He raises his trembling hands in surrender, gulping visibly. Zuko lowers his swords fractionally, every nerve in his body taut, waiting for some sign of treachery or ambush.

Instead, the terrified guard stumbles back a step, and then another, before finally turning tail and dashing away, whimpering in fear.

Zuko steps back, somewhat surprised but relieved nonetheless. Holstering the stolen swords, he marches back to the boy and helps him to his feet.

"That was amazing -!"

Zuko holds up a finger in sudden warning, and the boy falls silent obediently. He glances around the darkened hallway landing, empty except for the three fallen guards.

Come on. He finds the door leading outside, grabbing the boy's hand and making a dash for it.

"There - out back, past the wall -"

They have barely made it two steps outside before fire craters the ground behind them. Zuko's jaw tightens, hearing the shouts of the guards as though from a great distance away.

"They're heading for the trees! Get them!"

More fire explodes behind them, hard on their heels. The boy's hand struggles in his, and Zuko only tightens his grip in response. His gaze is focused on the cover of the trees at the edge of the forest, drawing nearer with every step.

Nothing else mattered.

The whistling rush of hot air betrays the blast of fire hurtling toward them. Zuko closes his eyes, leaping for the trees just as it smashes into the ground and misses the boy's back by a hair's breadth.

Zuko gasps for breath as the trees close in around them, seeming to close off the distant roars of the panicking prison guards.

We made it, he thinks to himself disbelieving as they charge through the foliage, keen to put as much distance between them and any pursuers as possible. Behind them, the trees at the edge of the forest glow red with fire.

They run and run for their lives, until the sounds of the prison guards finally subside and the seedy, poorly-lit streets of the lower city open up beyond the brush of the trees.

Then, they finally slow to a stop. Zuko doubles over, struggling to breathe through the constricting mask. Next to him, the boy falls to the ground, rolling onto his back and sucking in lungfuls of air gratefully.

"You did it!" he chokes out, somewhere between a laugh and a cry. "You - you saved me, you did it!"

Zuko inhales deeply, regarding the boy solemnly through his mask. He was so tired he thought he was going to collapse. Every muscle of his burns and screams, and sweat drenches his entire body. And to top it all off, he couldn't even bend anymore.

And that didn't matter. It hadn't stopped him from helping one innocent boy escape his father's wrath.

"Who are you?" the boy asks, facing him with shining eyes.

Zuko shakes his head.

"Aw, come on!" pleads the boy. "I won't tell anyone, you have my word!"

But Zuko remains resolute. He points to his mask and shakes his head again. I can't tell you.

"You're a man, aren't you?" the boy guesses, his expression turning thoughtful. "You can't show your face because you're wanted too, aren't you?"

Zuko flinches but remains motionless. To say any more was to risk both of them.

"Well, I'm Nikko," the boy declares, thrusting out his hand excitedly, "and I'm wanted too! It's an honour to meet you, Mr. Blue Spirit!"

Zuko examines the proferred hand before tilting his head questioningly.

"Well, I have to call you something," Nikko explains, bristling under his piercing stare. "And since you won't give me your name…"

Fine. Zuko crosses his arms and shrugs. But he can't help the small smile that breaks across his face. For once, he's grateful to the mask for hiding it.

"Well, thanks for your help!" Nikko says brightly, unfazed by his silence. "Whoever you are, Mr. Blue Spirit, you're really brave!" He pauses, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet tentatively. "Not many people would risk the Phoenix King's wrath to save one little kid."

You were innocent. Zuko coughs awkwardly under his mask, shrugging evasively.

"Only because my brother won't let me do anything more," Nikko laments, shoving his hands into his armpits. "The butcher of Blood Bay and his Imperial jackaldogs massacred our dad, and he expects me to sit on the sidelines because I'm young."

Zuko frowns, the wheels in his head turning slowly. Your brother?

"Kuba," Nikko supplies, giving him a sly smile. "He's one of the local organizers, but Ma says it's going to get him nothing but dead in the grave if he isn't careful."

An image flashes before Zuko's eyes of the harbour protests unfolding the day of his return. The numerous masked ringleaders conducting the angry crowd.

"I think you'd like him," Nikko prattles on, oblivious to Zuko's sudden stillness. "I think he'd like you too. You should come with me!"

He gestures vaguely at the lights of the lower harbour city, winking through the spring foliage.

Zuko staggers at the offer, considering it for a wild moment. But then he thinks of his father and Azula, and how furious they would be if he disappeared. He imagines them setting the entire lower city alight, searching for him.

No. He shakes his head again. It's too dangerous.

Nikko kicks at the ground, pouting. "Fine," he grumbles. "I know the way back from here." He hesitates, his fingers twiddling nervously. "Will we see you around, Mr. Blue Spirit?"

The way the boy speaks gives Zuko pause. He glances longingly at the path behind him, leading back to the undisturbed cage of his prison cell. Where he was helpless, powerless, safe.

Mai would kill him when she found out he'd been spotted. All considered, his plan had been sloppy. To say it hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped was an understatement.

But even though he was a prisoner and his life hung in the balance, he had still managed to do something.

The giddy rush of defiance that swallows him makes him feel intoxicated, elation swelling fiercely in his chest. Was this what Katara had felt when she had started her little rebellion against the Northern tribe's rules? No wonder she had acted so recklessly. Right now, he felt as if he could do anything.

He glances up at the starry sky, the torn blank space where the moon had disappeared mirroring the part inside him that longs for her. But for the first time since his capture, he's found something to occupy his thoughts besides blind worry for her and the others. And if he could find some way to survive his ordeal, there was no doubt in his mind that she was fighting back too.

But in the meantime, he had the rest of the night open to him, and suddenly, he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it.

Your brother, he gestures, surprising the boy. Does he have friends?

Nikko's smile unsettles him; an old man's smile on a young boy's face. "Yes."

How many?

"Enough." Nikko lowers his head, his fists curling at his sides. "We might be poor peasants, but the Butcher of Blood Bay still had to resort to slaughter to stop us."

Good. He swallows, adrenaline flooding his veins with liquid fire. Find them. All of them.

"But it's the middle of the night."

Then wake them. And tell them to wait by the harbour.

"I don't understand," Nikko whispers, frowning in puzzlement. "Wait for what?"

Zuko smiles grimly, and the laughing blue mask swallows it.

A gift.

The following morning dawns cold and red, with a bitter cold wind sweeping from across the saltwater bay.

The guards were flummoxed by the unusual events of the night. Several among their number had been beaten, an important prisoner had gone missing. Whispers spread like wildfire among both the cowed prison staff and the common people of a mythical Blue Spirit, terrorizing the oppressive and fighting back for the innocents.

Yet, the disgraced Prince Zuko was sound asleep in his cell when the guards checked. And all might have dwindled as a passing strangeness had the Imperial guard not spotted the most ominous sight of them all, illuminated in the growing sunlight rising out of the east.

Waiting like a wrapped gift just beyond the towering palace gates was the bloodstained uniform of Captain Asaka, the reviled butcher of the Imperial Guard, stuffed inside an empty fuel barrel. His body is found shortly afterward, naked and mutilated and floating along the shores of the Budo Bay.

A bold message to Phoenix King Ozai and his councillors; a warning of the days to come.