Aang glanced at the young ship captain's retreating figure. He looked at Katara, and Sokka, then the old man who looked rather concerned as he watched the younger one go.

He looked at the crew and the villagers.

"What happened to him?" Aang asked, breaking the silence after he'd gone.

As one, the crew turned to the short old man. The village followed their lead. The old man sighed, heavily. "He surrendered a fight he could not win."

More than one person physically recoiled from that. He'd surrendered and-

The old man turned to another man then. "Jee," he said, "If you would please finish the unloading, I need to see to my nephew."

Then, with brisk steps, he followed the captain onto the ship.

…-…

Zuko lay on his bed. The Avatar is twelve. The Avatar is twelve. The Avatar is… twelve? He sat up straight.

In all his research the Avatar's had been told who they were, what they were, when they were sixteen. Had the air nomads been different? Or had they changed something because of the oncoming war?

Had they even known war was coming? He'd seen the corpses- some of which were so very tiny. Wouldn't they have tried to get their young away if they'd known?

Then again, it seemed that they'd gotten the Avatar away.

But- if he was only twelve- he'd have only learned airbending. And if he only knew airbending, and if he was a twelve-year-old boy, there was not reason Ozai would believe Zuko if he said Aang was the Avatar.

Which meant that Aang needed to learn at least one more element before Zuko took him to Ozai. The life of a merchant wasn't easy, but it was survivable. He hadn't lost anyone since the fight to get their first ship.

If Aang stayed here- learned as much waterbending as he could from Katara… she didn't have formal training, but her father had said she was teaching herself. Insufficient, but- still. Enough for Zuko.

Zuko and his crew could leave. They could keep being merchants. They could come back- in a year or something- and get Aang and bring him to Ozai and then they'd be home and- and- Aang would be thirteen.

Something inside of him crumpled and Zuko barely made it to a bucket before he vomited.

…-…

Iroh found Zuko on the floor in his room, spewing his guts into a bucket. Iroh knelt beside him, grabbing a rag to gently wipe Zuko's face off.

"I don't know what to do." Zuko said, desperate. "I'm so confused. What am I supposed to do?" He had grabbed a hold of Iroh's arms, grip tightening to something almost painful, eyes wide and wild.

"Nephew," Iroh said, and apparently that was enough.

"He's twelve. The Avatar is twelve. Father burned me when I was thirteen, and I was swearing my loyalty to him. I was kneeling. I'm his son. He loves me. And he burned a permanent lesson into my face." Zuko's breath was coming faster now.

"Nephew," Iroh tried again, but Zuko didn't seem to hear him.

"What would he do to the Avatar? The Avatar- he's not a coward. He wouldn't kneel. Father wouldn't kill him- but- you can still be alive and be hurt enough to- to not be able to do anything. And how are we even supposed to prove that he is the Avatar?

"Avatar's are supposed to be told when they are sixteen. And this one is twelve. He can't know more than one element. And if he only knows one element why would father believe he was actually the Avatar? Then he probably would kill Aang and the Airbenders would all be gone- and it'd be my fault and he'd send me out again and I'd have to find a baby Waterbender. And he really wouldn't believe that that was the avatar. So I'd have to raise a baby until it was old enough to bend multiple elements. And- and…" Zuko cut himself off, gasping, and Iroh pointedly did not imagine Zuko raising babies.

He was too young for that yet. Though Iroh wouldn't mind some grandchildren…

"Why do you need to bring the Avatar to Ozai?" Iroh asked, carefully.

Zuko looked at him, confused, for a long moment. "Because I need to protect the crew. Get them all home."

"How fast did the 41st division die?" Iroh asked, feeling like he was treading on a knife's edge. One misstep- and there would be no coming back.

"Fast." Zuko said, soft. "Too fast."

Iroh nodded slowly. "Are your men safer on the ship with you, or fighting in this war?"

Zuko opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "I've- I've lost seven. But- that's less than the 41st…" he was frowning, eyebrows scrunched in concentration.

"Is it safer for them to go home then? Rejoin the navy? Rejoin the war? Or is it safer here?"

"It's not safe anywhere." Zuko said, voice rising. "This stupid- stupid war. It's getting everyone killed. Everyone's dying and nowhere is safe. I can't protect them. I can't keep them safe not matter what I do."

Zuko was on his feet now, hands gesturing wildly. "I keep them as merchants and- and we still die. The Fire Nation finds us sometime and we're executed as traitors. Or I bring the Avatar- I bring a twelve year old- to my father and they die in the war on our side."

Iroh felt his breathe rattle out. He could barely keep the anticipation off of his face. Zuko was so close.

"So if the war ended…" Iroh said, voice soft.

Zuko's eyes widened as much as they could with the burn stretching across his left eye. "They could be safe."