Might take a hiatus from posting on this fic, I think I need some time to rest my creativity.

Lu Ten

"That filthy, rotting, scummy, treacherous coward sunk my ship!"

At another time, watching Zhao's outburst would alternate very swiftly between being annoying and amusing. And this wouldn't be an exception, if he wasn't forgetting one important detail:

"It was my ship!" I yell.

"And you made a great performance in charge, just whining on the floor!"

"Gentlemen," my father calls, continuing his solo game of Pai Sho, "I think we rather focus on the fortune that nobody got hurt."

"Father, you were the only one that wasn't present in the battle. Did you catch glance of Avatar Zuko when he escape?

"Nope! Didn't come across the young man."

"He must be very knowledgeable in Fire Nation engineers to find the machinery room so quickly."

"Oh, yeah," he exclaims, dropping another tile over the board, "A mastermind."

"That arrogant, childish prick!" Zhao goes on. "I bet he is celebrating this!"

Sokka

My foot keeps shaking the sulking loser. (Huh. How the tables have turned.) "Zuko, it's been six hours."

His growl gets deeper the more he curls into himself like a furless tigerdillo. (What a fitting mental picture for the moment.) "I am calling in sick."

"C'mon, man, you can't get like this just because you and Katara broke up."

His head springs up from the pillow. (It's a bit cringey to see his scarred eye so wide open for how wrinkly it is.) "Wha… What? We didn't… We weren't… And how do you know about that?"

"I eavesdropped on you two last night. In my defense, you guys are the most entertaining thing around. Like an epic romance in the middle of a train wreck."

And here comes Zuko's GlareTM.

"Yeah, yeah," I say, sitting next to him. "So that is what has you crying on your pillow?" (For six hours!)

He honestly should patent Zuko's GlareTM, it's the only glare I've seen that can become more murderous by second. And I have seen how Katara's eyes get the profundity of ice peaks! It must have taken years of scowling for getting to their level.

"No," he drops himself back on the sleeping mat. "And what do you care? Don't you hate me or something?"

"What? What the heck are you talking about?"

"'Zuko's Personal Fanclub'? 'Your Avatarness'? 'We don't need a hero'?" each recollection of my comeback repertoire sounds graver than the one before.

"Welp, I never realized you had that much of a good memory."

He scowls some more.

"I don't hate you, Zuko. It's just…" my hand waves in a funny way "complicated. Hasn't Katara talked to you about what the War has put us through?"

At least mentioning Katara calms him down. (Puaj! Lovebirds.) "She told me about your mother's death and the burn on her back."

"So you can understand why I wasn't thrilled about her sparring with a firebender," I deadpan.

His face falls, but for the rest, he looks accepting of my (valid) explanation.

"Listen, aside from my mother and my sister, my dad also went on to fight in the War," I say, embracing my knees. "We haven't talked or known from him for years. The War took away our childhoods, our parents. And, okay, I don't hold the best opinion on Fire Nation fellas because of it." I glance at him. "No offense. Plus, I'm not like Katara. She's a person of faith, I'm a person of facts; and given your backstory, you weren't exactly trustworthy, if you know what I mean. Again, no offense. And also…" I scratch the back of my head. "I guess I was bitter because you get to knock people out cold with two swings and I – the great Water Tribe warrior – always make a mess." I glance at him once more. "Don't let it get to your head though."

It's true, I am the one that carries belts filled with armaments and a promise to my dad to be the man that looks after his family, and yet I'm the one that can't do anything right. I'm not a bender, and what's more, I am not a trained warrior. I couldn't fight Zuko when I thought he was a Fire Nation spy, Katara was the one that had to rescue me from the soldiers just last night. The universe never ceases to call me a wimp.

"You don't always make a mess."

"What was that?"

"You saved my life last night. From Lu Ten."

"Well, duh. That's the hero drill. By the way, sorry your family reunion ended up in a purge."

"Even in purges people are willing to hunt and hide together. My family isn't fond of teamwork. It is one of the reasons why I left, and because of how ruthless they had become against the rest of the world." He turns to me, his eyes look sympathetic enough. "I am sorry about your family, Sokka."

I stay quiet… "Relax, it's not your fault."

"It keeps feeling like it is."

"That's because you're being too harsh on yourself," I say. "You wanna go talk to Gyatso? He is our resident spiritual expert-slash-parapsychologist-slash…"

"Sure, why not?" he drawls. "I need some help figuring out some stuff. And… thanks for coming to check on me, Sokka. I… I appreciate it."

Aang

"Hey, Katara, check out this airbending trick!" (It is spinning two marbles between your hands without touching them.)

Katara keeps on saving the dishes after she helped prepare lunch. "That's great, Aang."

"You didn't even look."

Her head turns and her mouth forms a smile. "That's great."

"But I'm not doing it now!"

She sighs. "Sorry, I… have a lot in mind."

"Is something wrong?" I wonder. "You've been acting weird since we came back last night."

Her finger presses over her lips. (Of course, I forgot! Top secret mission, not talking about it while we're in the dining area. Got it.)

"Shhh!" she hisses before carrying more plates. "And there's nothing wrong, don't worry about it."

"You think Zuko will like to see my trick?"

"Bet he will."

I'm tempted to ask 'You really think so?', but it would sound too overexcited, and I don't think it's a good idea to impress the girl you're crushing on by talking about… ah… the boy you're crushing on?

Not that I have a crush on Zuko! (Pffft, of course I don't have a crush on Zuko.)

He is just cool. And he is my hero. And he does all these badass stuff, and he fights real good, and it's cool the way he mixes airbending and firebending, and he is handsome. Like, his scar is kind of off, but his jawline is so squared, and his eyes are so bright, and…

No, no, no, no! Katara. I'm focusing on Katara.

"Do you want to go sledding with me?" I offer her, trying to get my head away from Zuko and looking for another chance to impress her. "Maybe it will help you with whatever you have in mind?"

"Thanks, but I'm busy."

"C'mon. Please, please, please, please, please!" I chant, my eyelashes batting.

She giggles. (It's such a cute giggle! She's so pretty!) "Okay."

I turned my windsurf slider into a snow one; Katara and I fly over the snow monticules.

She laughs when the snow… snows on our cheeks as we break the road. "Thanks for inviting me, Aang! This is like being a kid again!"

"You still are a kid!" I reiterate her while I make us twirl over some more 'mini-mountains', the wind plugging our ears... until we stop on a far end of the village.

From here, the camp looks like a miniature model. It draws attention to how small it is in reality. A small patch of land where we all reunite. Not that that's a bad thing, but it feels… wrong to be an airbender – the element of freedom – and having such little space to explore.

If it wasn't because of the War, I could go wherever I wanted…

"Everything alright, Aang?"

"Yeah." Although I am feeling bad after having… 'bad thoughts' again. "Let's head back."

We use the road we crafted over the snow to get to this point. When we get back to the camp, Katara gives me a kiss on the cheek!

Awesome!

Zuko

"So, what is it that you need Gyatso's help with?" Sokka chews on the last piece of Papza Mogu[1] that we grabbed from lunch's leftovers. (He asked around if anybody had seen Aang and Katara for them to come with us to the training area, but everyone said they went sledding.)

The knowledge of Aang and his ginourmous crush on Katara going with her on a sledding race stings me with bother, however in a considerably minor way. Perhaps I already got used to… this. Whatever it is that we have going as a group.

On the other hand… I am more bothered for not seeing Katara and… at the same time… recognizing it isn't the best idea for me to see her right now.

"Do you ever feel like you have no purpose?" I ask as our steps dig into the snow.

"Nope."

"Don't you ever feel lost?"

"Nope."

"You are a very… simple person, right?"

"I'm a man of science," he states, chewing the last mouthful. "Everything has an explanation, and usually it is an easier one than what… overemotional people think."

That's rough, I want to say, but I rather not argue with him since he is the one making sure I don't drown in my own patheticness and die.

Gyatso is meditating in the training area when we arrive. (We were told he has been here since this morning, but he doesn't look affected by the climate. His skin looks more jovial than if it was in warm weather.) (Wonder if Sokka's science can explain that.)

"Boys," he greets us, opening his eyes, "Good morning. Or should I say afternoon? I thought you were sick, Zuko."

"Felt better."

Sokka's eyes wander around the Southern Labyrinth's ruins; they haven't changed since we broke in the first time only that now they have a nostalgic allure to them. The spiritual energy's vibrancy remains deep-seated in the plants and the rocks, but their colors are worn down like the ones of an old picture. Just another reminder of how much we – me, myself; and this place – have changed.

"Being here brings back some memories," Sokka evokes.

"Yeah, ones of near-death experiences."

His answer is side-eyeing me crossly.

"What happened to your lip?"

He and I freeze at Gyatso's question – and exchange a look upon our synchronized (yet completely unmatching) replies:

"I fell."

"Hawky scratched him."

Sokka unifies them: "He fell and Hawky scratched him."

"Yeah. That."

"We might have to put him in quarantine for aviar flu."

And right when I think he doesn't hate me!

"Mm-hmmm." (We convinced Gyatso, right? He isn't a mind-reader to know every time we lie.) (Right?) "Be more careful with Hawky and… the ground next time."

Sokka cackles. I don't, "Funny, old man."

"An old man that needs a good laugh from time to time. And, while I'm glad you're feeling better, it's a bit late for your training today."

"Actually, I came because I need your help with something. It is… um… Avatar stuff. I sort of need a little hindsight on certain things."

"I see," he mutters, "Sokka, do you mind leaving us alone for this?"

"No probs. You know these spirit-y things aren't my thing."

"Cynic," I murmur.

"Idiot," he fist-bumps me on the shoulder on his way out.

"You seem to be getting along better with your friends, Zuko," Gyatso notes once Sokka leaves.

Katara's face forms in my head, glowing.

Not with all of them, I think.

"Gyatso…" I mimic his sitting posture on the stage "is it really bad to have selfish motivations at times?"

His eyes size me fast, but curiously. I can't help the feeling that he didn't mean for me to notice it. "I suppose that depends on whether they motivate you enough to achieve your goals."

"And how can you tell what are your goals?"

How do you know where to go when you are aimless? That is how I got here – this era, this village. No direction, just impulses. Innate instincts that told me to fight. Whoever, whatever. Just fight.

"I can't answer that for you, Zuko. It depends on the individual."

"That doesn't help me."

"Mind if I ask what prompts these questions?"

One of my shoulders lifts. "Curiosity."

"I think a more 'curiosity-worthy' question would be: why would someone believe their motivations selfish? Usually, people believe they are always right."

Yeah… "Not everyone is like that."

"Self-awareness," he mouths with admiration. "What a splendid quality."

I roll my eyes.

"Do you mind if we continue this talk while I water the plants?" he asks, pulling out a watering can from the edge of the platform. "Alpine azaleas[2] are common to grow in this zone. I want to ensure the best care for them so I can admire them in Spring."

"Um, sure."

We stand up and Gyatso proceeds to water the few, handprint-length pieces of land where the snow has long melted; humming a cheery tune that I don't recognize.

"Do you know what azaleas mean?"

I shake my head.

"They have many meanings, but some of them are temperance and 'Take care of yourself'. They are that much specific as flowers. You could learn a lot from them."

"I can never tell if you are giving actual lessons or taking jabs at me."

"As I said, an old man needs to have fun from time to time," he remains focused on the watering. His voice is not much different than the sound of the water pouring peacefully. "But if lessons are what you want, have this one: self-doubt comes when we are actively shaping our own destiny, making decisions. The sensation it leaves is unpleasant; however, it is also a sign that stakes are growing higher around us, and we are taking action to meet them."

"How can you tell if you are enough to meet those stakes?"

"Again, I can't answer that, Zuko. I'm afraid my life is quite unassuming." His eyes turn my way. "You, on the other hand, have an important destiny."

"I have renounced to my destiny in the past," I say before thinking much. My voice is hoarser – darker. "When the War started, my father was invading and occupying Earth Kingdom territory. He banished me because I told him to stop."

"That must have taken a lot of courage."

"Would you say that if I told you he tricked me in order to establish the Earth Kingdom colonies?" I throw back, nonchalantly. His eyes slash up to meet me once more. "That I am one his accomplices? That I believed all his discourse about the War being a way to share the Fire Nation's greatness? Would you say I am courageous?"

So grave and raspy my voice lowers, that it is as though each word was a poisonous snake leaving my mouth. I can taste that poison: self-loathing. Lately, I have been nourishing from it, and pain as well, despite them leaving a rancid, bloody taste in my mouth.

I stand before Gyatso's gaze with my arms casually crossed over my chest, so numb that it isn't necessary for me to fake indifference; this guilt… it deadens me. It eats me alive, threatening to leave no trace of the real me. And I can't afford that, because if I lose myself they will take over.

My father, my brother, Zhao, Fire Lord Ozai's unknown voice; I can hear them… always. They are trying to smother my voice, erase my own shadow. I can't fight them by myself.

Hate me, I think at Gyatso, looking him in the eye. Hate me! Make me earn forgiveness. Tell me I can be forgiven.

He resumes the watering. "Oh, but I thought you were so sure you were a fighter..."

My own words shatter my current thoughts as if they were made of crystal. 'So much for not being a fighter.'

I step away from Gyatso. (How did he know I said…) (Why…)

"Since you are always so ready to throw yourself to the danger."

(Oh.)

"May I ask what made you pursue your path as an Avatar?" he inquires. "Having woken up a hundred years into the future… you could have proclaimed your time as the Avatar has finalized."

'It is my destiny'.

Yet, before I can pronounce that answer, Katara's face appears inside my head yet again, smiling. In the Southern Water Tribe. With Sokka next to her; he is smiling, too. Their grandmother, the mothers and children that received me. They are all in a newly reconstructed village; happy, safe. I see the Southern Air Temple, Aang performing some of his airbending tricks and floating over the hallways. Air Nomads walking across them, sunlight coming in.

"I assume from your expression that it has little to do with your past self."

I blink. Then frown. My hand involuntarily goes to my scarred eye. "You don't know who I was before."

"I know change is always welcome," he replies, cheerily. "And so far you are on a good path towards it."

"How can you tell?"

"Take a guess on my age."

I shrug. "Ninety?"

"A hundred eight years old," he says. "I was a child when the Air Temples were attacked, I'm one of the original survivors. How do you think I knew the names of the ancient monks in order to adopt one?"

Why is it that every time I think the weirdest thing has happened, something weirder happens? And I suppose I shouldn't talk much in matters of age considering I am a hundred eighteen years old, but… Seriously, what is going on?

"I have seen many things – and people – change throughout the years," he goes on. "I see no reason for you to be an exception. Meanwhile, promise me you'll follow the azaleas advice and be careful. All hatred darkens our hearts, even the one we hold against ourselves."

Hawky flies to us. (I let him out of his cage this morning for him to exercise.)

Gyatso nods towards him. "You should put him back in his cage, and go rest some more. I would hate that your sickness came back."

"Hawky, you think I am a good Avatar?"

He follows my path as we exit the forest and enter the village, he screeches after my question.

"Thank you!" I smile. "You don't say it only because I am the one who feeds you, right?

He soars in silence.

I glare at him. "Answer the question."

Aang and Sokka pass in a flash once I get to the end of the forest, riding Aang's slider downhill. "Hi, Zuko! Bye, Zuko!"

What –

"Zuko."

My head spins to Katara's voice. She is walking my way with Momo in her arms, her boots plow the snow. If she wasn't meeting my eyes so confidently, I would say she was braking her steps, keeping herself away from me. Her skin is more dewy than usual, her hair darker, her clothes a more vibrant blue. Or maybe she has always looked this way and it is only now that I can see it better.

I don't know. I don't know anything about whatever is this I feel for Katara. (And why did I have to feel feelings?)

Momo and Hawky jeer at each other and start brawling and clawing around my head!

"Momo!"

"Hawky!"

Katara embraces Momo again and I grab Hawky. "Guess Momo is still angry that Hawky got to ride with us last night."

Against my own will, I half-laugh. "Yeah."

Hawky keeps on trying to take Momo out, squawking and pecking. Momo squeaks. (And here I was, thinking Sokka's voice was annoying!)

"You two fly off into the forest and be friends or something!" I command them, letting go.

"Whoa. You, encouraging friendships?" Katara comments as they soar. "I can finally say I have seen everything."

"I am good at friendships."

"Sure, it only takes you… what? Around two or three name-callings?" she smirks. "Maybe a little asshole-ness?"

Still losing track of my senses, I smirk back. "You are never letting me live that down, are you?"

Her smile broadens. "Of course! One day. Just not today."

"Funny – not." (But I… I like the implication that she will be sticking around for longer.)

We stay in silence staring at nothing at all, it is reminiscing of when we first met. And remembering makes more of the strange feelings shake awake.

"I was meaning to talk to you," I say after the pause. "About what we talked last night."

"Oh… That."

We return to the silence. (I really am awful at friendships, ain't I?)

"You know, maybe this isn't the best place to talk about this," she notes, looking around, probably waiting for Aang and Sokka to rush back. "You want to go talk to my tent?"

Katara

There is something funny in the reverse roles: Zuko and I meeting in my tent instead of his, me being the one holding the entrance open for him. It is special in its own seemingly small way. But it is outweighed by… the rest. Us.

He takes off his coat once he steps inside. "It is hot in here."

I take off my parka, too. "It's for the extra fur coating I put on the sides. Water Tribe Survival 101."

I used to stitch the tents back at home, make some more layers to preserve the heat. I'm surprised my blood hasn't sprinkled loose through my fingers with all the nips they have from all that sewing; it was exhausting. More so since… I wasn't supposed to be the one who did it. When I began, I was still too small to carry the furs and fabrics by myself.

The cruel reality that you can't wait for someone to help you taunts me, not in a malicious way, just reminding me of how things work. I couldn't wait for my mom to revive nor for my family to pass the pain, I had to help them and myself. There isn't a choice in there, only mourning, and struggles.

Maybe that is why I have become so attached to Zuko. He makes me selfish; he looks after me, he listens to me – not in a bossy way. When we talk, he cares about me…

His eyes study the inside avidly. They pass over the few Water Tribe decorations, the extra fur on each corner of the place, the few illustrations of warriors and battles.

He approaches one of them, one with figures of the tribespeople hunting together. "What is this?"

"Tribal art," I explain, stepping closer. "In the Water Tribe, we pass our stories to the younger generations with images instead of texts."

"This has your name on it," he notices.

It has my name. It is in Water Tribe language though. "I can't believe you remembered that," surprise and delight are audible in my voice.

"Of course I do," he says, shifting to stare at me instead.

But I look down. "I'm the one who painted it."

His eyes are wide in appreciation when I look at his face again, the corner of his mouth curled up in an impressed smile. "Didn't know you painted."

"I don't get to do it often," I brush a hair behind my ear. "You know me, I'm usually worrying over a hundred things."

"I could help you with some of those things. So you can have more time to paint."

I smile, although wearily, and step away. "That's sweet, Zuko, but my burdens aren't yours to carry."

"Don't call them burdens," he says. "But now that you mention it… I, um… sorry if I made you feel bad with what I said last night. I didn't mean to make you feel pressured. I… I apologize if I did."

My head moves slowly from side to side. "You didn't."

Last night, when Zuko said… what he said… I thought there had been something wrong with me. Had it been different – (with someone else, at another time) – I would have gone along with whatever was necessary to stop the War. Or what I believed to be necessary. Then again… Zuko makes me selfish.

"I think I haven't been a very good friend," I admit, my head low. (What happened made me think about a lot of things I hadn't before, how fast my feelings for Zuko were growing.) (And yes, I said it! I have… had… whatever… feelings for Zuko.) "I guess I have been pushy at times."

"That is not true."

"It's just… we don't know much about each other. Still. Despite everything."

His hand goes to his face. I take a step forward, catching it, and looking up at him in the eye.

"That's not what I meant." It wasn't my intention to come so close, I don't notice until my chest hits against his with each of my breaths.

Seeing him this close, the flesh of his scar is very loose, it forms deep skin folds. His eyelid is slightly down. I wonder when did I start seeing it as such a natural part of him; the healthy side and the scarred side blend perfectly.

"You think I look like him?"

(It's not necessary to ask who 'him' is.) "No," I say, "I was thinking this before, too, but your features are different. Especially up close."

His eyes shine again with more of those gleaming thoughts I saw last night.

I step back. "Sokka told me he talked to you about our family earlier."

For a moment, he looks simply stunned. Memory, realization, and soberness return consciousness to him. His mouth opens but no sound comes out.

My gaze falls. "It is complicated, right?" I look at him yet again. "Us?"

It takes him a while… but he nods.

"I want to be a better friend," I decide, repressing the need to emphasize 'Just friends'. "And I think it will take some time for me to get used to…" (this, the Fire Lord, you) "that."

Zuko's voice is a murmur. A gentle, honest one: "I understand."

"I… um… should probably leave," he says afterward. I also resist the urge to tell him he doesn't have to.

Momo and Hawky come inside the tent by themselves.

"Guys!" Momo jumps to my arms again. "Did you become friends already?"

They growl at each other.

"I don't think they did," Zuko deduces. Hawky squirms closer to him on his arms. "Hawky, stop that, it is embarrassing."

"I thought you liked animals."

"I like animals, just not the ones that are this clingy."

"So then you liked stuffed animals? That's adorable!"

He smirks at my bad joke. "Anyway, we should leave now. I… I am glad that we talked, Katara."

Me too.

Zuko

I don't remember falling asleep, I only remember the fire and the eyes staring at me through unnaturally huge blazes. Eyes of devils, pointy and inhuman, colored like the fire itself. My throat is stacked with smoke. Coughing turns it denser, heavier. It is asphyxiating me. Cruel laughs get to my ears, they belong to familiar voices that I feel the urge to ask for help. But they won't help me, they are trying to crush me. Eradicate me. Just like they did to all the rest of the world. They are…

Suddenly, the fire stops. The voices quiet. Pure air fills my lungs.

Everything vanishes and darkens into plain, stiff nothingness. A black space that appears infinite but feels confined. It isn't the Air Temple, yet Kyoshi's statue is here, facing me in what would look like a judgmental stance had it been alive.

From the corner of my eye, I catch something approaching. An animal. A goat-like creature with black fur and a single horn. The Xiehzi[3], the spirit of truth. Its hooves click over the ground in slow steps.

It circles me and Kyoshi's statue warily, studying us. I follow its moves carefully, fearful.

We are being judged.

It ultimately signals Kyoshi, stabbing its horn into her statue. Rupturing it.

'Guilty.'

I wake up with a start. "Kyoshi!"

Trivia:

[1] Papza Mogu: A dough shaped into balls with melted butter, brown sugar, and dry curd cheese. Part of Tibetan cuisine.

[2] Alpine azalea: A precious plant that grows in the Tibetan Plateau. In the general language of flowers, azaleas mean 'Remember your home with fondness', 'Take care of yourself', temperance, delicate passion, elegance, and wealth.

[3] Xiehzi: A mythical Chinese creature resembling a goat with black fur and a single, unicorn-like horn. Knowledgeable in human nature, it could distinguish truth from lies and good from evil. It judged individuals in conflicts or disputes by pointing with its horn to the treacherous or guilty party.