For Zutaraang Week – Day 4 - Scars


"I shouldn't feel like this."

The words make Aang stop in his tracks. He's halfway across the garden, hands outstretched for Zuko, standing there at the edge of the pond. Aang's mind reels with a thousand emotions, above all, sympathy. The ragged confusion bleeding from Zuko's voice is something he hasn't heard in a long time, maybe not even since before the war, before the comet. Back when they didn't even know each other. Back when they were sworn to be enemies, and Zuko's mind was poisoned daily by the same monstrous presence that has him frozen in grief now.

"Zuko," Aang begins. He doesn't know what to say. The stiff hunch of Zuko's shoulders in front of him betrays something worse than his voice does: that he doesn't want Aang to see him. He doesn't want anyone to see him. And that's painful, coming from a guy that's always worn his feelings on his sleeve.

To Aang's utter relief, there isn't going to be a public funeral for Ozai, which is what the council had decided in the morning, despite the rioting from a persistent dissident group. He isn't sure if weeks of meditation could do anything for the nightmares that might resurface from an event like that. But this is not about him.

He had sat at the Fire Lord's right hand in the meeting room, Zuko's nails digging marks into his palm under the table while the ministers around them discussed the decorum surrounding the announcement of the death in captivity of the previous Fire Lord. A surprising number of officials actually wanted some sort of ceremony. It was decided in the end that there would be a burial in the catacombs and an accompanying official notice from the palace. Zuko had spoken as little as possible during the meeting (Aang was counting). His only real input that he wanted to notify his mother in person beforehand, so the announcement was to be delayed.

Iroh is on his way from Ba Sing Se. Azula, to his surprise, didn't want anything to do with it.

And already here, is Zuko, alone in anguish. Watching him now, Aang allows himself to feel something other than pity for Ozai, for the first time in years: anger.

Zuko turns his head up in a sharp movement at the sound of his name. His voice is thick with feeling, enough to make Aang dizzy. "Why do I feel like this?"

The turtleducks continue to swim, unheeding of what's happening in the palace around them.

Aang takes long breaths, like firebending practice, in an attempt to steady himself. He has to be the one keeping a level head here. "You can't choose how you feel, Zuko."

Zuko makes a sound of frustration. "I've spent my whole life making sure I do everything different than he did, the bastard. Everything I've done in the Fire Nation is so– And if he just–" he cuts himself off.

Aang swallows and makes his voice as gentle as possible, though the more Zuko talks, the more sick he feels. "Don't be ridiculous."

"What?"

"You can't tell me that he was your only motivation."

Zuko wipes an arm across his eyes. "There's still so much I have to do."

It takes all of Aang's power to just walk up to Zuko's side – and not any further – because he knows what Zuko needs right now is clarity. Words.

"And what? You needed him to witness it?" Aang says evenly as he can, though he can't help the incredulity that seeps into his tone.

Zuko takes a sharp breath in. He's listening now. When he had defied all his advisors by sparing his father the death sentence in the post-war tribunals, Aang had stood by him with pride. He didn't think there could be a truly bad consequence of that decision. But the bewilderment in Zuko's eyes now reveals something more sinister than Aang has seen in a long time, a shackle to his heritage heavier than the ones Ozai wore for the final part of his life.

It shakes Aang to his core. "You–You've built a new country from the ashes of your father's crimes– and your grandfather's. That's what matters. The present. The future."

Zuko turns to face Aang. "But how could he–" His fists are clenched at his sides, mouth turned in a hard frown intended to prevent something worse. Aang hates the expression, if he can hate anything about Zuko's face. "How could he– just– it's just one harsh winter– all those people— He doesn't get to die like this."

Recognition grips Aang like a vice. This feeling he does understand. This is the very thing that's kept in him a dream-like state since the news reached him late last night, and he had left Republic City immediately, the Avatar's presence at the emergency council in his schedule and Zuko in his mind.

Aang grasps Zuko's arm tight, turning to face him directly. "I get it," he whispers. "I understand." Zuko's eyes are full of uncertainty, and Aang finds his own hollow mood reflected in them.

He's twelve again. The Fire Lord looms larger than life, a force of pure hatred, hellbent on destroying any peace in this world. A trail of pointless destruction; people, families, whole villages, left in his wake.

The same man is dead in his cell, from the complications of a common cold. Accepting that is like being knocked out of the air.

Zuko doesn't make any real attempt at holding his gaze, his eyes tired and watery. But he lets Aang press their foreheads together, which means they're on the same page at least. Aang cups the back of Zuko's neck and presses him close. If he could somehow project the depth of his care with that action, he would.

"You don't have to feel happy about this, Zuko. And you definitely don't have to feel nothing."

Zuko makes a noise that might have been an attempt at interruption but he stops himself with a heavy breath and a nod. Aang blinks hard and continues, "You can be sad that you didn't get closure. You can be sad because you deserved better. You really, really did." Unthinkingly, he lets his thumb trace over the ridge of Zuko's scar, but Zuko doesn't flinch. "But you can't define who you are and what you do by Ozai."

Aang almost jerks back at the feeling of wet tears dripping against his hands. He's never seen Zuko cry, but he does his best not to let the surprise show on his face, even as his stomach feels like it's careening at the sight. Zuko pulls away from him to wrap him in a proper hug.

After what feels like an eternity, Zuko speaks. Aang can feel the sadness of the smile against his neck. "Thank you. You're pretty wise, you know."

"It's in the job description." That gets a laugh out of Zuko, and Aang's heart glows for that tiniest of reactions.

"Uncle said he would be here in a couple of days."

Aang nods into Zuko's shoulder, "I know." He's still not willing to let go, rubbing circles into Zuko's back as he speaks. "Go be with him, after the announcement. I'll deal with everything else."

Zuko squeezes him in acknowledgement. He whispers his next words like they might disappear if spoken too loudly, "Katara?"

"She's coming as soon as she can," Aang says, longing for the respite of her embrace — longing so much at the mention of her name that he surprises himself. For someone far removed from the Fire Nation and its cruel history, someone that is the antithesis of all this pain. He can't imagine how much worse it is for Zuko. "She'll be here, when I have to go back. We're not leaving you."

The thought of Zuko going to bed alone this week is too much to bear, and he won't have to bear it, even if Avatar duties are dragging him to a different continent in a few hours. For the first time, he's deeply grateful for their arrangement in a way that has nothing at all to do with his own fancies.