*casually whistles and drops an extra-long chapter into your inbox as a two-week-wait apology*
Chapter 5: Pick Up the Pieces
Maybe Bato should have been more surprised that Katara and Sokka had suddenly lost their memory. But ever since he discovered his two godchildren a long way from the South Pole, traveling with the twelve-year-old monk who was the Avatar, Bato stopped expecting anything less than crazy where these two were concerned.
That crazy was usually crazy good, though. Like, we've-got-plans-to-invade-the-Fire-Nation-capital kind of crazy. Or, we-ended-the-war kind of crazy.
Not we-have-regressed-into-confused-fifteen-year-olds-and-can't-let-people-know-because-they-might-PANIC kind of crazy.
He rubbed his chin, free of the beard many of the men of his tribe so favored. "You really have no idea how this happened?"
Katara shrugged. "I once helped someone regain their brainwashed memories by healing them with waterbending. I tried it on Sokka yesterday, and Healer Yanneh tried it on me." She shook her head, hair loops swishing. "It didn't work."
"How about a spiritual cause?" said Hakoda. "Has Aang looked into it?"
"He said he'd try, but it's going to be difficult without any leads."
Bato mused, "For all we know, the two of you tripped and hit your heads on a rock."
Katara snorted, securing the hood of her parka over her head. "Would be nice if that was all it was to it."
A merchant ship had arrived earlier this morning, so they now walked down the hill to the market where the chief traditionally oversaw business. On the way, the two men explained the city's features for Katara's sake.
Dad gestured to a neat row of conjoined igloos. "Those are the apartments, for our short-term dwellers. Some Northerners only stay for months at a time to help build or to train with Master Pakku."
"Or to experience a change in scenery and culture. Beside it are homes for our permanent settlers."
"There really does seem to be so many more people," Katara said in wonder.
"Precisely. See that big igloo with the playground? That's a school for the younger kids. They've been popping out like penguins since the war ended."
"Children, born to peace," she breathed in awe. Then she whirled to him excitedly. "Are any of them yours, Bato?"
He stumbled, and Hakoda laughed heartily. His best friend's eyes twinkled as he said, "Not in this generation, but from a few years before? In a manner of speaking. Mister Bachelor here has caught the eye of quite a few Northerners, but he hasn't entertained any because..."
"Hakoda," he said warningly.
Said man looked back, challenge in his eyebrows. "Why not? You can't tell me you don't want to put a bead on it."
"Apart from the fact that I'm old enough to be her father, I refuse to replace her children's father."
Subdued, Hakoda replied, "You wouldn't be replacing him. Maktu would be happy you're taking care of his family."
"Which I can do from the wonderful position of honorary uncle."
The tension was palpable. Katara looked between her father and godfather, something sad passing in her wide eyes. "The war still left scars, hasn't it. Even though it's over."
"Yes," Bato answered, pouncing on the change in subject. Anything to get away from that topic. "They're there if you dig deep enough. Take this for example: Everyone knows your marriage to the Fire Lord is good for the peace. That doesn't mean they're comfortable with it." Some men and women had outright tried to talk Hakoda into forbidding it. The Water Tribe always kept to itself, they said, and Katara was needed here, they said. How about that nice bachelor from the North? Wasn't he a good hunter, decently respectful, and not nearly so powerful? He didn't bring back memories of bloodshed and devastation.
Zuko had learned to cut down on the red when a veteran had lunged at him out of reflex. Still, no amount of Water Tribe colors could hide the scar.
The young sovereign had been careful in every way to appear benevolent to the tribe since then. He stoked fires for Hakoda's mother and made pretty flame shapes for passing children. He sparred with Katara in front of the waterbending class and got utterly bested. He had flunked an igloo-making to the entire tribe's amusement and bore their chortles and teasing remarks with composure. Other than a few huffs and a snarky retort to Sokka about owning six different houses that don't melt, Zuko had handled it well.
So Bato thinks he can be excused for being thrown by the current situation.
A figure in purple carrying the gleam of a master healer's necklace was running towards them. "Yanneh?" called Hakoda. They rushed to her to close the gap.
"Chief Hakoda! Bato, Katara," panted the senior healer in short puffs. "Fire Lord— Zuko— ran—"
Katara stepped forward urgently. "Is he hurt? Has Sokka attacked?"
"Healer Yanneh, breathe," Hakoda implored. "If you could take the time to find us, then you can take the time to find your words."
Katara bounced agitatedly on her feet as they waited for Yanneh to catch her breath. At last, she said, "We were doing the laundry. Fire Lord Zuko was heating our water when he had what I believe was a panic attack. He stopped breathing and only started again when asked. Then the water became very hot, the women backed away, and he ran."
He hadn't known Zuko was the kind of veteran to have panic attacks. It couldn't have been pretty.
...The laundry. He had carried his and her family's dirty laundry to the hut earlier. She always insisted on doing his for him, always said it was no trouble.
Bato took in a deep breath.
"Any idea as to what triggered the panic attack?" asked Hakoda, brow deeply creased.
"Sanyok had been speaking to him, after her niece talked to him first," answered Yanneh, and Bato's heart jumped to his throat. "Both of them were kindly, so he may have simply felt crowded by people he didn't know." She took Katara's mittened hands in her own. "Katara, I know you don't remember your marriage to Zuko, but you may be the person he responds to best."
"I—"
Katara's thoughts shone in her wide eyes and conflicted brows. Healing a wound was one thing, but this? It meant facingher husband. The husband she did not remember.
However, if Bato knew his goddaughter, she wouldn't turn her back on people who needed her.
Katara clutched her Kya's necklace, courage passed on from mother to daughter. A breath was released, shoulders squared, and tone steeled. "Where did he go?"
Yanneh pointed to where a black spot made a stark contrast with the horizon. Not to the pure black spot, invisible if you didn't know where to look, which was the abandoned warship from decades past kept as a testament to history. The rounder, redder, less malevolent black spot. "He ran in the direction of the airship."
Hakoda was ready. "Katara, Yanneh, go and help Zuko. We're getting looks, so walk briskly but calmly. You can bend faster transport once you're out of the city. Bato, mollify the witnesses and prevent gossip. I will follow you soon enough."
They went their separate ways, Hakoda on to the market to make his excuses, Bato to the hut where the laundry was done. He was the picture of calm, the tribesman's ear, and when he was young, the accomplice of Hakoda the troublemaker. He had a wealth of experiences placating distressed and angry people, some of them so intense that enthralled listeners have pondered how Bato wasn't deaf or dead. His intimidating height, admirable patience, and soothing voice must have served him well, they said. Whatever it was, he was going to need every last drop of it to deal with this.
The women's explosive chatter was audible ten feet away from the door. Anaok's distinctive shriek rose above the clamor.
Maybe Sanyok would make this more bearable, but still. Hakoda so owed him his share of the fermented caribuffalo marrow.
...
Sokka was having a bad day.
First, he almost got his foot chomped off by a tiger-seal because the Avatar thought it would be fun to hop on the carnivorous monsters. He was narrowly saved by airbending, which was worse than waterbending because at least he could see that coming. If torture through mortal peril wasn't enough, Sokka was forced to give spa service to a fussy ten ton bison while his owner sat there and meditated, completely apathetic to the argument Sokka was having with his animal.
For the record, Sokka totally won that argument.
It wasn't just the Avatar who had it out for Sokka today. This manly warrior was certain the cranky old grandpa had frozen his snot. He couldn't prove it, but he had years of petty magic sister retaliation to back him up.
And then this. This. He was supposed to be a famous war hero, but a single magic water woman took him down in sixty seconds flat.
Some manly warrior he was. His body wasn't nearly as bruised as his ego.
Yet, perhaps his ego was about to get the glorious redemption it deserved.
The crowd watched with bated breath. Magic-water-wielding ladies were one thing, but this short-haired girl stood up to him with fans. Wickedly sharp one, true, if their hair-thin glints were anything to go by. But they were fans. Did they have any advantage beyond maximum lady sass? They had little range and plenty of extra useless weight from the metal that flared to the sides. Unlike daggers, they didn't offer the protection or the solid grip of a hilt. Alternatively, they could be shields, but flimsy ones that did nothing to cover her hands. Slashing along a fan's folds should pare the fan down.
Chivalry wasn't dead. He'd go easy on her.
Cranky Grandpa signaled them to begin. Black met gold with a satisfying metallic shing. Exhilaration rushed through Sokka's veins. He was getting the hang of this swordfighting thing!
Though, he probably wasn't putting enough force into it since she was deflecting his heavier sword with apparent ease. So he struck harder, feinting a jab before swiftly stepping forward and swinging the flat of his blade as hard as he could to her back—no way could she block that—but she sidestepped and twisted just out of range. The sword swung air. Thrown off balance, Sokka stumbled to recover his footing. His opponent had the nerve to relax her stance, flutter her fan, and yawn.
"Not so bad for a fangirl," he said through gritted teeth.
"I'm sure a big, strong man like you is just going easy on me. Why don't you give this little girl a challenge?"
See if he ever used the flat of his blade again. He held his sword at point and growled, "If you bleed out, don't blame me. You asked for it."
"I promise not to be a sore loser." She ran straight towards him, completely open to his slice, but mother of polar pups she leapt over his blade to his unguarded side. He couldn't turn the sword fast enough, her grip on his parka was like a vise, and the razor-edged fan was coming at him there was no time—
One. Two. The blow didn't come.
He opened his eyes.
She was smirking, and the golden fan's blade hovered inches from his face. He didn't know whether to be grateful or angry when she pulled back, releasing his parka such that he stumbled and fanning her windswept hair back. "Please," she said loftily, "Show me how it's done."
Forget angry. His blood boiled.
He backed to make space and shifted the grip of his sword to one hand. It would make it harder to stay balanced, but it also freed his other hand to use a knife. She needed to get past his sword to attack; he would use the knife to defend himself when she did that.
He weaved and struck.
She dodged under his blade this time, coming out on the knife-less side, then ow ow ow his wolftail was being yanked! He pulled out but then folded fans were choking his neck. He threw his head back, managing to knock something, and tumbled out of her fan-chokehold.
He viciously stabbed his sword to the ice to push him up. "Can't win without dirty tricks? If you want, I can give you a handicap."
"Sorry, I didn't know it was illegal to be resourceful." She crouched into a lower stance, like a leopard-wolf eyeing its prey. "I can play by your rules."
She moved first this time, springing out from her crouch and dancing in and out of his sword's guard. She blocked his knife with one fan and didn't take the opportunity to strike with the other, as if teasing him with how much better at maneuvering she was. He pushed her back with the sword, thrusting and flicking this way and that. But the space sword was heavy; even his muscled arm was burning out.
He watched impatiently for an opening. Maybe she would stop moving, and he could get her with his boomerang before he pulled a shoulder muscle.
(Before she destroyed him and his fragile ego.)
It was in this flash of crippling doubt that he lost.
He swung wide, leaning heavily on one leg to balance himself. She dropped a hand to the ice and kicked his leg out from under him, and woosh, he was falling, back hitting the ground harshly. Winded, he pushed himself up with his elbows, but a foot stepped firmly on his chest, forcing him down. He groped for his sword. It was nowhere to be found.
"Do you yield?"
His knife was still secure in his other hand. It was two feet away from her calf, but she was pointing his sword a hairsbreadth from his throat. He gulped, and felt his Adam's apple scratch the fine black tip. There was a scratch of pain. A droplet. Blood. The only cut to have come from this entire bladed fight, and it was on him.
He would have to clean the sword later. His sword of his blood.
"...I yield."
Her deep blue eyes crinkled with satisfaction. She got off his chest lightly and held out her hand to help him up. Humiliated, he took the arm of a woman who was so much tinier and less powerful yet had utterly and effortlessly outclassed him.
A slow clap broke through Sokka's thoughts, reminding him where they were. There was an explosion of cheers, high and empowered and delighted. The girls he had offended earlier broke the audience ring and rushed at them. Sokka had half a mind to run before the fan lady handed him his sword back and pivoted to meet them. She walked forward gracefully, red hair swaying lightly with the spring in her step, laughing at the younger girls' gushing antics and reveling in the women's praise. Aside from a couple of teens who blew a raspberries at him, no one spared Sokka a glance.
He made him way heavily to the sidelines, where Aang gave him a sympathetic pat. The kid who was now older than him was saying something that was probably wise and comforting, but Sokka wasn't listening. He didn't have space in his head to, when he was too occupied wondering.
Wondering if he would ever stop being such a failure of a warrior. Wondering when his dad could be proud.
...
There was a red dot of a person, getting larger and larger as she snowed herself and Yanneh closer. She thought it was Zuko, but as they neared Katara realized he didn't have the scar, and was too tan and thin to be Zuko, anyway.
"Lady Katara!" the man in Fire Nation red shouted. "Please hurry, Fire Lord Zuko—!"
"I know!" she yelled back and zoomed past him.
They were received by hailing guards and led by a uniformed woman up the clanging ramp of the airship. The servant rambled about their worries for Fire Lord Zuko and how it, well, it reminded them of Princess Azula. In a hallway, more red-and-grey clothed people watched in silent agitation. They didn't block the way, though, and Katara passed through them to get a clear view. An aging man with white sleeves and glasses knocked at a metal door. "Fire Lord Zuko, it's Doctor Kan. May I come in?"
A snarled "no" was his response.
The doctor scratched his neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard before catching sight of her. "Lady Katara!" He bowed, open palm above fist. "I'm glad you came quickly."
"Yes," she floundered, hastily bobbing her head back, and remembered the person beside her. "Yanneh here is our senior healer. Healer Yanneh, Doctor— Doctor Kan."
"Ah, yes, Doctor Lei told me about you. She reports being extremely impressed by your skill." At Yanneh's quick smile, Kan continued, "However, I fear that this is less a physical issue than a psychological one. He accidentally burned a staff member and has locked himself inside since."
"I'll attend to the burn," said Yanneh. "Katara, go."
She swallowed. The carpet muffled her footsteps as she approached the forbidding door.
A servant stepped forward, turning a key in the lock until it clicked. Tentatively, Katara stepped into darkness. She strained her eyes and ears for signs of Zuko. It was quiet but for the creak of cold metal.
Just when the door clicked closed, rough hands were on her. She shrieked, but an arm at her mouth muffled it and a whirlwind of force twisted her until she was pressed against the wall. Pressed in between the wall and a person, a broad chest at her back, firm knee against her thigh, hot hand on her wrists, suffocating closeness all around.
She struggled, but he only pressed harder. Her breath was coming in sharp pants through her nose because her mouth was so harshly gagged. What was this man doing, what was he going to do, what was he going to do to her?
Her pulse thundered, louder and more reverbating than the tribe's great drums. The man who was Zuko, who she had to trust was Zuko, leaned down. His heated breaths brushed chillingly close to her earlobe, and her trembles merged with the ones coming his chest where it rumbled her back. He spoke. "I ordered everyone to leave me alone. So get out and don't return."
His grip on her loosened, as did the arm around her mouth. Instinct screamed at her that she should take the out, but heady defiance sparked. She gasped out, "I don't take orders from you."
Abruptly, she was released. She whirled, arms up to defend from an attack, yet heavy steps that told her Zuko was already staggering away. "Katara!" he rasped, breathing spasmodic. "Stay back! I could hurt you!"
Her eyes narrowed, fear morphing to anger in her adrenaline-shot veins. "I think I can handle my own husband, thanks," she spat.
Fire licked from his lips, illuminating wild eyes for a flashing moment. When darkness fell again, his hoarse voice murmured, "That only makes it worse."
Katara didn't need the painful spike in her chest to tell her that she did not like the sound of that. What if Sokka was right, Aang was wrong, and Zuko was a predator? One trying not to be, maybe, but this was not the type of thing to take chances on. With a hand on the door so she could make a run for it if need be, she spoke.
"Is this because I don't remember anything? Dad said you were taking it okay." In the dim sliver of light, his already sharp jaw was squared. "Zuko, talk to me."
"I told you to go away."
"No. You may be the Fire Lord, but you're not the boss of me."
"Leave!"
Orange light and heat burst into the room as furious fire shot over her head, scorching the steel wall behind her. She ducked on instinct, and in her mind's eye went back in time to a dusty abandoned village in the desert. A hollow-cheeked boy crouched crying over his uncle. A terribly needed offer to help. He had lashed out then, exactly like this.
She had left. How would have things been different had she stayed?
She got down, barely a meter in front of him. Loud and clear, "No."
He scrabbled backward on hand and foot till he was pressed against the wall. "I can't hurt you."
With bravado she didn't feel, she retorted, "I can defend myself."
Zuko laughed. Unnerving prickles crawled up her spine. "I bet my father and Azula thought the same thing."
His... father? Surely he wasn't stewing in guilt for a man like him? "What are you talking about, Zuko?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. I'm a danger to you. So leave."
"No. I know you, Zuko. You're not going to hurt me."
The air tore with his lashing gestures. "You don't know me! I don't know me! So don't pretend that everything is sunshine and lilies and that somehow, you care about me!"
Heart aching, she cupped his face gently. He flinched hard enough to hit the wall.
"Zuko," she said firmly, undeterred. "I care about you. I might not remember being your wife, but I do remember being friends with you."
"See," he gasped out. "That's the problem. I don't remember even that."
Silence, but for the whir of the ship's systems. Katara dropped her arms slowly.
"All this time." His tense silence, his explosive aggression, his fragile shakiness. Older-Zuko didn't fit the picture of the steadfast boy Katara had come to know not because he changed, but because he was never that Zuko in the first place. "You lost your memories, too?"
"What was I supposed to do? Tell you? Hi, Zuko here. Do you remember that time when we were enemies? Good, that's all I remember too."
She searched his eyes, almost black in the darkness, as if by looking hard enough she could reach past the facade and see the hostile prince Zuko once was. "How much don't you remember?"
A beat. He was the first to drop his gaze.
"Everything."
"Everything?" she said softly. When she reached for his hand, he didn't pull away.
He whispered, "I don't know who I am."
Her thumb rubbed circles into his rough palm, bumping over calloused ridges and smooth skin alike. The repetitive motion was soothing in its constancy. "Then let's start from the beginning. What do you know?"
It felt like years, or seconds, but Katara was patient. Eventually, his mouth cracked open. "My name is Zuko, son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai. My mother disappeared when I was nine. My father banished me when I was thirteen. I would be allowed home with my honor on the condition that I capture the Avatar. I found the Avatar. He was a child. I haven't succeeded in capturing him. Now Avatar is a teenager and still free, and I'm residing in the Southern Water Tribe." His hand clenched, capturing her thumb almost painfully. "I'm a traitor and an usurper."
"You are not a traitor. You are Zuko. You are strong, and brave, and good," she declared without an ounce of hesitation, because if he couldn't see this for himself then she would make him. "You decided to end the war because it was hurting lives, families, the world and your own nation. You saved the Fire Nation, Zuko. You saved it from itself. You saved it from your father."
He was shaking his head, voice hoarse. "No. No, the Fire Nation was sharing its greatness. Father was doing the right thing by—"
Righteous indignation reared within her. "Was imprisoning and depriving every Southern waterbender the right thing? Was forcing his son to capture a twelve-year-old the right thing? What about the people who have sacrificed and died so needlessly, the people lived on to run from their homes because they had no where else to go? You can't honestly tell me that in his quest for greatness, your father hasn't caused suffering far greater."
He jerked his hand away and snarled, the watery glint in his right eye speaking of pain and desperation. "What do you know? It was necessary. It was a lesson. I'll be better for it, the world will be better for it—"
"That lesson murdered my mother." He made a sharp intake of breath. "And it's destroying you. Please, Zuko. I don't— I don't want to argue about this. I just want you to know the good man you came to be." Her gaze fell to the parka-covered abdomen where skin and cold fire had met. She touched a gentle hand to it. "You saved me, you know? From Azula's lightning. It was going to kill me, but you jumped in the way and almost died. I... I will never forget that again."
"So what?" he croaked shakily. "I killed my father. I killed my sister."
"You did not," she said vehemently, and at once, he was breathing again. A fine trail of water trickled down his cheek. "Aang defeated your father by taking away his bending. Your father is powerless, in prison, where he can no longer hurt you."
At her last words, the chest beneath her hand shook and rattled. Rapid blinks, and a tear fell on the sharp ridges of his scar. "Azula?"
"She's alive," Katara said softly, and Zuko buried his face into her parka and cried. "She's a little unhinged, but she's alive. Azula's alive."
They sat like that for a long while, Katara stroking his back as Zuko poured out his pain. Just as the position began to stress her crouching legs, his little racking sobs calmed to an indistinct tremble. His ponytailed head rose.
"I, um," he cleared his throat, quickly turning his face aside. "Your parka. I'm really sorry."
It was like that time she caught him ranting to the turtleducks. Adorable. Experience taught her he would take offense if she cooed, though, so she simply bent what she could out of the parka and grinned. "Help me wash it, and we'll call it even. La knows Sokka never did his share of the laundry."
"O-okay." Then he just sat there, rubbing his neck and even in the darkness failing miserably to hide the fact that he was wiping his chiseled face on his sleeve. She could laugh at herself for imagining that this awkward turtleduck could be a dangerous predator. Then he winced terribly, and she noticed that the hand— different from the one she held earlier— looked off.
She snatched his forearm to another violent flinch, but she was too incensed to feel guilty. His sleeve pulled back to reveal darkly discolored skin. "Your wrist is dislocated! You grappled me like this?!"
"I was trying to scare you," he mumbled, and she tsked.
"Give me some light," she said and felt around for her— nonexistent!—waterskin. Seriously, Katara? Enter a closed room with an emotionally unstable ninja-firebender in need of healing without water? Ugh, being back home has made her complacent. "On second thought, let's get out of here. Yanneh's probably better than me at this anyway."
Zuko pushed himself onto his feet, one hand cradling the other. When she had gotten several paces to the door without hearing any signs that he was following, she turned back. Zuko was mournfully eyeing the corner he had just vacated.
"No," she said. "You do not get to curl up in this room and die."
He sighed. "Not with you around, I won't." He gingerly wiped his face and followed.
...
The sound of a metal door clicking open was like a canon shot in the ear-straining silence. Hakoda didn't need the following elated cheers to know what had just occurred.
He peered into the hallway and saw the senior healer got into a bit of a tussle with the royal physician. Yanneh had taken Zuko's arm, water ready around her other hand, and the gray-bearded physician protested that he had first rights.
Healer Yanneh retorted, "I'm the one who can actually do something to heal."
"I suppose you noticed the sprain in his ankle, then?" said the doctor.
"What?" Katara shrieked, and now three distempered medics were turned on poor Zuko.
Before Katara could be give him a tongue-lashing, the attendants laid out cushions for all of them to sit. They were all offered tea and drinking water. One attendant handed the royal physician a wooden kit. A roll of bandages and a wooden splint was laid out before Zuko gathered himself enough to speak.
"Wait," he said, stilling the water-coated hand Yanneh was holding out. "I burned someone earlier. Could you—?"
A woman stepped forward, pulling off a glove to show a bare hand. "Already healed, your Majesty. I didn't even need salve."
The doctor shook his head from where he rolled up Zuko's pant leg. "I'm never going to get to do my job with these Water Tribeswomen around."
Yanneh smirked at him and set to prodding Zuko's wrist. Katara observed—right, she must have forgotten much of her training—before catching Hakoda's eye.
"Dad, how did it go?"
"With the women at the laundry? As well as could be expected. No one was hurt, but there was quite a stir."
Zuko had looked up at the sound of his voice. "Chief Hakoda," he said, as pale as the day he came to their home to present himself as a suitor to Katara. He bowed. "You have my deepest apologies. For earlier... and yesterday. I lied when—"
"I know," Hakoda cut him off gently, holding up a hand to pause his son-in-law. The son-in-law that didn't remember being a son-in-law, and whose last memories caused him to recoil heartbreakingly at the sight of a father lifting a hand. "Healer Yanneh does, too. We figured it out. We can discuss this later, but first, you need your rest." He glanced pointedly at everyone around, and Zuko took the hint.
"Yes, Sir," he replied, shoulders dropping but face still tense, so Hakoda went with his gut and said,
"You're forgiven, by the way," and tried not to let it show how affected he was by Zuko's wide-eyed look of disbelief. Not for the first time, Hakoda willed to have a private conversation with Ozai, in which Ozai would be grateful there were bars between them.
Zuko ducked his head. Hakoda took that as his leave and beckoned Katara into an empty room to press for details.
"Where is his memory?"
"Sometime when he was still hunting Aang."
...The worst case scenario. He watched his daughter carefully. "It's one thing to wake up where suddenly your newest friend is your husband. It's another thing for that husband to see you as an enemy."
Her lips pursed. "He tried to scare me, but that's because he's confused. Scared. He doesn't know what's true or right. I think with a lot of love, we can help him see."
"A lot of love, huh?" His eyes lingered beyond the doorway. A plate of hot towels and snacks had arrived for the Fire Lord, who was fidgeting uncomfortably under all the care and attention he was getting. "He was in a very rough place at this time. You know that better than I do. Do you truly think we will be enough to help him?"
She bit her lip, thinking it over, then looked him in the eye. "We're going to need his uncle."
He smiled, proud of her insight. "I'll write a letter to General Iroh. Encourage Zuko to write his own, and we'll send it with the same hawk." He touched a hand to his daughter's shoulder, saw hope and conviction that was so like her mother's, and drew strength. "I must meet with the council. Afterwards, Aang will be sent here to help you clarify things to Zuko. Katara, tell no one except the doctor about the memory loss, and especially don't tell them about Zuko's. This is a very precarious situation we are in, that Fire Lord has become a banished prince."
Katara returned to Zuko and the medics, and Hakoda mentally reorganized his pitch to the council. At last, Healer Yanneh was satisfied with the injuries' progress and summed up by giving Zuko, Katara and the physician strict instructions. Hakoda bade his farewells with a quick hug for Katara and a clap to the shoulder for Zuko just as the attendants began their turn to fuss.
He and Yanneh exited the airship together, declining offers of tea and but accepting red bean buns to go. They chewed on the delicious hot buns in on their way to the training grounds. His mother, Master Pakku, Aang, and a quiet Sokka were there. Good, they would meet the other council members with Bato.
They found Bato, the female northern representative, and an administrator at the meeting place. Some people were missing, but that was to be expected. There was work to do. After testimonies from Aang and Healer Yanneh and a confirming interview of Sokka, they discussed their options.
There weren't many. The meeting felt quicker than it should have been.
Aang left for the airship, and the city crier called a communal dinner. That evening, the Hall was filled with warmth, delicious aromas, and chatter between the tribespeople. Hakoda could physically see the whispers spread. The angry and amused looks at Sokka and curious and fearful glances at Zuko were not entirely subtle. Still, they ate together peacefully, sharing what each family and visitor brought in. Even Zuko, Katara, and Aang bore steaming Fire Nation food from the airship, which Hakoda personally pounced on as soon as was servant-leader appropriate. Once everyone had their fill and began to clean up, Chief Hakoda stood and asked the head of each household, as well as those who were at the training grounds or the hut for laundry that morning, to linger for a conference.
In the end, very few people left, and those who had did so reluctantly, carrying off the younger children. As they did, Hakoda led Aang and all his children, biological or otherwise, up the raised platform. The chief sat cross-legged in the middle, the Avatar on one side and the Fire Lord on the other.
"Many of you have noticed strange behaviors among our members and speculated about their cause." He eyed his people and found maybe three who were sheepish, and a multitude who were thoroughly unapologetic. "We have gathered here tonight so that all of us may know the truth." He turned to his left. "Katara?"
"Sokka and I have amnesia." Gasps and murmurs broke out, and Katara patiently waited for them to settle before continuing. "Yesterday, when I got it, the last thing I could remember was the week before Sozin's Comet. I didn't even know we ended the war! Today, I've regained my memory up till at least that. I hope my confused state hasn't caused you any trouble, and if it has, I apologize."
A man raised his hand through the scattered murmured discussions, and Katara gestured at him to speak. "How did this happen?" he asked.
"Sokka and I tripped on a rock. We hit our heads." Silence. "That's it. Underwhelming, isn't it? We woke up like this."
Exclamations broke out, noisy in numbers, none of them individually loud enough to command the crowd's attention. When the noise lowered, Hakoda raised his hand and cued, "Sokka?"
"My memory is even further back than Katara's. I'm supposed to be fifteen years old, beginning my journey with the Avatar. I... I acted stupidly earlier, back at the training grounds. Sorry. The version of me that you remember probably wouldn't have made the same mistakes. Here's to hoping we get him back soon enough." He raised a glass and smiled weakly at the smattering of laughter, then jerked his head to Zuko.
Hakoda looked to his son-in-law, then to the tribe. "Fire Lord Zuko has something to say as well."
Zuko bowed low before righting himself, back ramrod straight and tall in his kneel type of sit. "To all those who were at the laundry earlier today," he said solemnly, "I deeply and humbly ask for your forgiveness. I came with every intention of being of help, but... I failed even that. You were nothing but kind, and I startled and hurt you. I'm sorry." He bowed again and said no more.
A small hand shot up. Startled, Zuko looked to Katara and Hakoda before gesturing. It was Anaok, cheeks puffed and standing despite her mother's expressive facepalm.
"If I may, Prince Fire Lord Zuko, sir! You were a big help! That was the first time I ever enjoyed laundry, and if you heat the water again, I will do it forever! Well, not forever forever, but like every week forever, and no Mommy, I won't complain. Hot water is amazing. Firebending husbands are amazing! Thank you for listening, Sir, your Highness Majesty Prince Fire Lord Zuko, sir!"
The girl bowed, saluted, and plopped down, leaving Zuko looking winded. "Th-thank you," he stuttered, and Katara covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Smiling, Hakoda asked if anyone else had something to ask or add and found that the answer was no. Onto the more delicate matter. His expression grew serious. "The occurrence of amnesia was not a plot or a scheme. It was simply an unfortunate circumstance. Despite this, we cannot let those outside our home know, or else Katara and Sokka may very well become targets of those seeking to do us and the peace harm. I humbly ask, as chief and father, that you remain vigilant to keep their condition a secret. Our battle this time is not with others, but with ourselves. To protect our peace and our people."
The Avatar stood. "I know that this is troubling news. Apart from the need to keep this to ourselves, the situation hurts me personally. My closest friends, practically my family, no longer know all of the times and the hardships we've been through together. But as much as it hurts me, it hurts Fire Lord Zuko. He lost a part of his brother and his wife. How about you? Maybe you have lost part of the friends or heroes you found in Sokka and Katara. But they're still them. They're just a little lost in time.
"The world admires you, the Water Tribes, for your unrivaled ability to adapt and your unbreakable strength of bonds. I trust that I will see these in action in you supporting Chief Hakoda's family as they go through this transition. As the old Water Tribe sayings goes, it takes a village to raise a child. Katara and Sokka grew to become the wonderful people we know and love once; with your support and protection, they will certainly do so again."
After some more placating words and raised concerns, Chief Hakoda declared the conference closed. He then stood by the door and personally wished everyone a good night's rest as they filtered out of the Hall. When the last pot-bearing man had left, as did Aang who went to get Appa, Hakoda turned back to see his family gathered round one of the hearths.
All the other fires had gone out, leaving this the last one burning low, his family gathered in a circle around it. Hakoda sat at the space left for him and listened. Listened to his mother retell the nightmare of the raids on the Southern Water Tribe, and watched as their flickering flame cast light unto the shadows the Fire Nation. Listened to his stepfather speak of pai sho and an uncle's love, and felt as the warmth of a family filled a starved heart. Listened to his daughter bid her husband a goodnight and ask if he needed her to stay by his side.
Neck red, Zuko turned her offer down and all but fled from her. He looked like he wished he could take it back when Hakoda began walking with him to the shared bedroom. He was planning to collect his bed quickly to give the boy alone time, but the thought vanished into thin air when Zuko spoke.
"I'm not going to try anything or attack anyone, even the Avatar. You have my word."
"Do you think that's why I followed you? To keep a watchful eye?"
Knees bent and shoulders tensed. "My promise doesn't extend to self-defense."
"Zuko," he sighed, aggrieved. "I'm here because I'm concerned about you."
The shock on his face was painful. "Why?" he demanded. "You're not my uncle! You're not my"—crack —"my mother. And you're most definitely not my father, so stop— stop trying to replace him!"
Alright, Hakoda had had enough.
He closed in and enveloped his stiffening son-in-law in a hug. Zuko struggled, jabbing a few forceful elbows to the ribs, but Hakoda held fast. Eventually, the fight left the boy. He hung limply, exhausted, flintlike cheekbone cutting into Hakoda's shoulder.
Voice low, Hakoda replied, "Can you blame me? He put you through so much pain."
"It was to teach me respect. He had to do it."
"I think you and I both know that's not true."
It took a long time for Zuko to respond. "It's different for you."
"How?"
"You're okay with your son acting like a buffoon."
Hakoda chuckled. "He turned out alright in the end, didn't he? Not that you remember, or that he's shown it since you all got amnesia. However, I think a bit of embarrassment is worth it as long as I can see him smile." He released the hug only to put a hand on Zuko's shoulder. This time, he barely flinched.
"Whatever place you are in, you are always welcome here. Rest well, Zuko."
...
In the Hall, a boy and his bison reclined. The lingering scent of meat was unfortunately strong in the wake of a tribal meal, but in a world where they were the last of their culture, they had grown accustomed.
"You didn't forget everything too, did you, Appa? I'd be devastated if you did."
The bison groaned. The animal hides around them rustled. Dead skin in a closed space couldn't be easy for Appa to be around, but better inside where the air warmed than to stay awake bending away the cold of the polar night.
"Yeah, you're right buddy. It's probably just them." The last airbender snuggled on Appa's neck, nuzzling the freshly brushed thick fur contentedly. Then Aang jerked up. "Oh no! What about Toph?!"
Author's Note:
Do you know that I wasn't even supposed to write the Suki-Sokka fight scene? But you all clamored for it, so a lengthy internet search on swordfighting and a youtube history of tessenjutsu later, here it is. I hope I didn't totally flop expectations.
Also, the following is a fun little scene that didn't make it into the chapter, but I assure you that it happened. :D
"How are you feeling?" said Lady Katara.
Fire Lord Zuko leveled her with a puffy-eyed look that said do you really have to ask?
"If I may, my lord," the chamberlain suggested from where she stood at the sidelines. "Perhaps his Majesty would like a hot bath?"
Life sprang back into Lord Zuko's eyes. "A hot bath sounds wonderful," he said. Lady Katara sighed.
"Would my lady care for a hot bath as well?"
"Oh, yes, thank you so much!"
The very corners of the chamberlain's mouth quirked the slightest amount. A good servant always anticipated the lord and lady's needs, and this morning was looking to become another job well done.
She briefly eyed the kitchen assistant, who signaled that yes, the chef was preparing a lunch fit for a king. Then she led the reigning couple down the hall to the master's suite. The guard diligently bowed and opened the door. Similarly, the maidservant who had already drawn the bath pushed the inner door open and ushered them inside.
The chamberlain wondered at their shared look of horror as the door shut. Had the bathroom not been prepared to their taste? Perhaps the clothes they laid out weren't warm enough?
Anyhow, she couldn't very well ask now. For this royal couple, privacy was /
...
The bathroom door opened, steam and heavenly fragrance wafting into the adjoining suite. A freshly-dressed Zuko stepped out of the clouds, wringing his long hair with a towel.
"Your turn," he grunted as Katara sprang from her seat on the bed. "I refilled and heated the water."
"Thanks," she squeaked and dashed inside the bathroom, taking extra care to barricade the door.
Author's Note:
Do you know that I wasn't even supposed to write the Suki-Sokka fight scene? But you all clamored for it, so a lengthy internet search on swordfighting and a youtube history of tessenjutsu later, here it is. I hope I didn't totally flop expectations.
Comment to inspire this author to write faster. Critique to make her!