Chapter 6: Before They Slip Away

In the reflective half light, black ink refused to waver.

Of course I'll act as your regent, said elegant strokes on the curling piece of paper. You and Lady Katara both have more than earned this break. Take your time enjoying the company of her delightful family. Also, do not forget to gift Kanna and Pakku my latest ginseng blend! It has been a hit in Ba Sing Se. Lady Ursa has a stash—

Lady Ursa.

Mom.

Zuko stared at the characters of "Ur" and "Sa", drinking in each inky thread and inflection like a man dying of thirst. The prickle of drying eyes informed him that he needed to blink. Even then, the characters didn't leave his sight. Zuko saw them in the darkness beneath his eyelids as a brilliant mirage burning like light.

The message on this dated letter shouldn't have been a surprise, just another piece of evidence. The Avatar had told him the story of how his mother returned. While Zuko did not trust the Avatar, he did trust the word of the doctor who confirmed it. After all, the aging Doctor Kan was the same royal physician who had treated Zuko's childhood injuries. Who caused Azula and Mom to recover when they were sick. Who had taken Zuko seriously even as a distressed child, solemnly informed him about his mother and sister's condition, and even about his scar, did not lie. So, despite everything, Zuko trusted the Avatar's story.

Story.

It wasn't until he saw the evidence in his uncle's hand that Zuko—just maybe—believed.

Remnants of electricity crackled through his veins at the sight of his mother's name. Zuko had rolled and unrolled the letter a thousand times, daring her characters to leave. They stayed.

"No matter how things seem to change, never forget who you are."

He whispered with dry lips. "I'm sorry, Mom."

As he lay there in the cocoon of fur-lined sleeping bag, sounds of life picked up. They drifted in from the common room, past the hide curtain that gave him privacy. Back inside his parka the letter went. Out of the sleeping bag Zuko slipped. As ever, stinging cold air was his greeting. He cricked his neck, stretching his arms all the way down to his ankles. By the time he touched his toes, hair was falling his face. That was something about a full head of hair that he hadn't missed.

He pushed the offending strands up his scalp, gathering all the hair in a bunch between his fingers. Then he stilled. The maroon hair tie waited on the pelts. Yesterday morning, he had noticed that it wasn't enough to do a phoenix plume. Traitor, his mind had whispered. I'm not, his heart had begged. And his heart proceeded to curl up and lock itself away, because nothing it had begged for was ever right.

And yet. Somehow, his heart was right. The hair tie didn't make him out to be a disgraced traitor, or at least, not in the eyes of the people on the airship. The tie wasn't enough to do a phoenix plume because he wasn't supposed to do his hair in a plume at all. He was supposed to do a topknot.

No. Not that— he couldn't. It was too much.

He tied off a high ponytail and splashed his face full of freezing water. Then he knelt on the pelts before the lamp and timed his breaths to match the fire within. All this, the stretches, getting dressed, the meditation, this routine was a pale imitation the mornings he had known for so long. The walls were too light. The smells were weird. It was too damn cold. But. Breathing with the fire helped. Remembering his uncle helped. Anything to stall before he had to go outside and face Katara's family and all their mushy, personal-space-invading ways.

The family which was his wife's, and by extension, his.

"'Morning, Zuko!" yelled the cheery eyesore of an Avatar when Zuko emerged. It took all the self-control Zuko had to restrain a violent twitch.

Said twitch sprung out when Chief Hakoda clapped him on the shoulder, but... no one commented on it. Even Granpakku only paused in his slurp-bending-drinking thing to say, "Good morning."

"Sleep well?" Gran-Gran's warm voice asked as she set bowls down onto the low table. Something in her aging tone and wrinkled face told Zuko that she really cared about the answer.

Surprisingly enough, it was yes.

"Great!" said the Avatar. There were white ears poking out of his tunic, along with a tiny furry hand trying to swipe food from the table. "Remember anything new?"

"Not really," Zuko replied. The lemur's head surfaced and spat out a wrinkly object. Ugh.

"I warned you about the sea prunes, Momo, now you have to finish that. You sure, Zuko? Katara and Sokka remembered new things after waking up."

Tearing his eyes away from the gagging Momo, unsympathetic because food was precious, he replied, "I remember another week of floating in the northern ocean on a piece of driftwood."

Granpakku's hand, stir-bending a pot of stew, stilled. "How are you still alive."

"The weather was good."

He answered that question wrong, apparently, and their looks were embarrassingly unsubtle—

The door creaked open, and a blast of cold wind entered. As did hair loopies and ocean-at-noon eyes.

Katara.

Drown him now.

Sokka entered after her, shooting Zuko a sharp look that said, I'd be happy to indulge. Sokka didn't do anything, though, when Katara sank to a seat and called the still-standing Zuko to sit next to her. His heart pounded with every step.

"Hi, Zuko. Did you sleep okay?"

Were they going to ask him this every time? "Yeah."

"I'm surprised you can sleep," remarked Sokka. He had found his own seat, one knee propped up, directly across Zuko. "Stuck in enemy territory and all."

Katara frowned. "The only one being an enemy here is you, Sokka." To Zuko, she said, "Ignore him. He gets his kicks from paranoia."

The Avatar laughed. "True! When I first came out of the iceberg, he was convinced I was a Fire Nation spy. Then when we entered the Fire Nation, he hid from all the 'enemy' birds! Ooh, when we first visited the reclaimed Ba Sing Se?"

Hakoda quirked an eyebrow and the corner of mouth. "I heard he got in trouble with the local law enforcement."

"What? Dad, you believe this guy?"

Hakoda lifted his hands, expression wry. "Aang's a reliable storyteller. Also, it's all the guards talked about when I arrived."

Gran-Gran tutted as she set the final bowl down. "Come, time to eat. I can't keep the food warm forever."

Granpakku said a prayer of thanksgiving to Tui (or was it Yue?) and La, and together they partook. Zuko used his good hand to hold the chopsticks and steadfastly avoided the sea prunes. The Avatar, whose bowl of meatless stew was steaming in his hands (Zuko was almost certain he was firebending that) asked, "What are you gonna in your free time today?"

Sokka shrugged. "Hunt, fish, y'know, whatever the tribe needs a man like me for."

"I'll go see Healer Yanneh. There's so much I still have to learn from her about healing," said Katara. Granpakku cleared his throat pointedly. "Yes, Master Pakku, I'll train my combat bending, too."

They then turned to Zuko, who scrambled for an answer. Just as he decided that seeing the royal physician carried the least risk, Sokka cut in shrewdly, "Plan to capture the Avatar?"

Katara scoffed. "That's ridiculous. Right, Zuko?"

Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Right."

"That's funny," said Sokka, and the firebender steeled himself for the veiled insults. Movement around the table slowed. "Wasn't it your life's purpose not so long ago? I suppose with your dad locked up, there's no longer any point. You're on our side now, after all. You turned against your father, locked him up, took his throne—"

Crack. Momo screeched. Splinters of wood flew from the broken chopstick in Zuko's hand. Katara shouted, "Sokka! You insensitive—"

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry. I forget you don't remember that. Then again, the rest of the tribe doesn't know you have amnesia at all. They all think you're some pacifistic Fire Lord who's devastated missing his wife, when in reality..." he trailed off, gliding an open palm along.

Zuko grit his teeth. "Why not finish that sentence, peasant."

"How about you finish it for me, prince?"

The intense staring match was interrupted by an arm of orange and yellow.

"Hey," said Aang, forcibly cheerful. "Why don't I tell you about that time Zuko saved—?"

"No, Aang. I know you feel that Zuko's changed, and maybe he did in that future. But this. Is not that Zuko."

"Stop being so paranoid! If Zuko changed once, he can do it again."

"Oh yeah? Let's try asking him. Say, Angry Jerk. Can you swear undying loyalty to world peace and harmony among people of every nation?"

He recognized this trap. Honorable words could be twisted until he was played to obey the other's whims. Tilting his chin up, he said evasively, "I married from the Water Tribes, didn't I?"

Sokka scoffed. "Right, what a symbol of harmony, having the last Southern Waterbender in your clutches. Tell me, how would the so superior Fire Nation take to having a savage as their queen? I've heard there's polygamy in your royal history."

His arguments were infuriating, but they weren't wrong.

At once, there was an outraged cry from Aang, a stricken look from Katara, a deep scowl from Granpakku, and a set jaw from Hakoda. Gran-Gran got there first. "Sokka, that is enough. Zuko is your brother and I expect you to act like it."

As Zuko fathomed how that was supposed to help, Sokka argued. "Gran-Gran, I know you like him, but he burned down a village. Can we please have a little more self-preservation? Or common sense?"

"Don't talk to her like that!" he shouted at the same time Aang warned, "Sokka..." and Katara protested, "He's harmless!"

But Sokka only had eyes for his brother-in-law, and they were smoldering. "What," his voice dripped with vitriol. "You think you can be a better grandson than me?"

Azula sneered, mouth curling with that cruel little twist she had learned last week. "So what? It's not my fault Mom prefers weaklings."

The tension choked. The father spoke. "Sokka."

His defiance faltered, and Sokka slumped in his seat. "...I'm sorry, Gran-Gran."

"Apology accepted," she said, refilling Sokka's half-empty bowl till it was filled to the brim with stew. "I trust you will also apologize to Zuko when you are ready. I want no more casting suspicion at my table, do I make myself clear?"

Granpakku casually bent more tea into his cup. "Good. I thought I was going to have to freeze Sokka's mouth, too. Katara, eat well. You've forgotten four years of waterbending training, and I intend to catch you up on every second of it."

As Katara ruefully picked at the sea prunes, Aang slapped his hands together. "Monkey feathers! Zuko, the Sun Warriors!" Zuko only grunted in response and waited for Aang to elaborate on his I-just-remembered-something-you-don't exclamation. "The two of us went to their ruins and got some amazing firebending lessons. The Dancing Dragon. Ring a bell?"

"Only of Uncle Iroh on Music Night," Zuko said under his breath.

"That's it! Sifu Hotman, get ready for some lessons!"

"...Are you talking to me?"

"C'mon, Hotman, these ancient firebending techniques are the best." Zuko opened his mouth— to reject the outdated slang or techniques, whichever— but Aang beat him to it. "They're what you used to best Azula."

Zuko's mouth hung open, words forgotten.

Sokka muttered, "Can we not give the dangerous firebender more tools with which to harm us?"

Granpakku interjected, "I think it is an excellent idea. There's an earthen space in the training area which we use to simulate non-tundra environments. It helps firebenders avoid melting the ground."

"Perfect. If you need us, we'll be letting off some steam!"

"That phrase don't work, Aang," said Sokka sullenly. "It's too dry and you just said you'd avoid the ice—"

"Stop being such a killjoy. You're just cranky—"

"I'm upset—"

The siblings were going at it, and the argument was much more in-your-face than anything even Mom would have tolerated. Hakoda did nothing more than sigh wistfully.

"It's been a while since I've seen them squabble like this," he said to Zuko's startled side-eye. "They grow up so fast. Sokka?" called Hakoda.

Mutiny cleared into hope. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Ratuk and the others are going fishing. How about helping them out? And inviting Suki for lunch, while you're at it."

"...Yeah, okay, Dad."

When they were done with the meal, Zuko left the house together with the other benders. They took the wide, open steps down the hill and the longer route through the city, which, as the Avatar explained, would help restore relations with the tribe.

The people, swathed in blue furs and with skin in shades of brown, greeted Aang, Katara and Granpakku either warmly or respectfully. To him, they held no smiles. It was all nods and looks, creased brows or skittering eyes. Never flattering. Just honest.

It wasn't... so bad.

"The Fire Lohd!"

Zuko's heart thudded, he spun, he searched frantically for the father who never leaves the Capital, what did Father want was he coming for him—

Oh. Wait.

Zuko was the Fire Lord.

And he had just freaked out the toddler that had called out, who was pointing at him and being run up to by—a woman he recognized. Someone from the laundry.

The woman batted away the the toddler's pointing finger and frantically scooped him up in her arms, face openly frightened.

"Please, it's fine," Zuko— the Fire Lord— tried to assure her.

The boy, whose eyes had been bright and excited a moment ago, now peered at Zuko, confused and a little fearful.

Something in him clenched. He tried for a smile. Didn't succeed. "Hi." Wave. "I'm—" the Fire Lord—"Zuko."

"The Fire Lohd," the toddler insisted, an unwanted echo.

Zuko took a sharp breath. Released it, slow and steady. "Yes... I'm the Fire Lord. But I'm also Zuko."

Innocent sky-blue eyes blinked up. "The Fire Lohd Zuko?"

This time, the smile came. "Right. The Fire Lord Zuko."

The toddler struggled in his mother's arms, wanting to go free. She let him, and he ran off. As the boy prattled loudly to anyone nearby about how he saw The Fire Lohd Zuko, his mother's gaze lingered on him curiously.

"What is it, ma'am?" said Zuko, going for non-threatening.

She startled but didn't slink back. "Ah, if you don't mind me asking..." At his nod, she plowed forward. "How old are you, Lord Zuko?"

"I'm—" sixteen "—twenty-one." He felt like a fraud.

"Oh." They stood around a little awkwardly, Zuko sending a silent plea to his equally silent, probably laughing companions, until her son circled back. However, the toddler hadn't come to take his mother's hand. He took Zuko's.

"The Fire Lohd Zuko!" he yelled, tugging till the young sovereign's fingers were ready to pop off. "Come! I show Yanlaq!"

So that was how Zuko found himself awkwardly staggering through the city square in the wake of a hyperactive toddler.

(When they did separate, it took several hands, a marble trick, and a promise of meeting again to mollify the boy, whose lung capacity was not limited to actual words. By this point, Zuko swore the whole city was staring, and there was nothing skittish about their eyes now.)

Finally, they arrived at the training grounds without further incident. Zuko was relieved.

Then he was left alone with the Avatar, learned a strange, sinuous firebending technique, and discovered that his own firebending before all this happened had not been so weak after all.

No, it hadn't been so weak.

Because this, right here, right now?

Was the embodiment of weak.

...

All things considered, it could be worse.

Hoarse yell, thin flash, dust cloud—

Yes, Aang decided. Much worse.

"Don't rely on your muscle! Fire comes—"

"FIRE COMES FROM THE BREATH, I KNOW."

See? Zuko was taking suggestions now. Sign of progress!

It took a while and a few fits of frustration, but eventually Zuko's harsh pants smoothed to even breathing. Aang shifted his weight into the first stance, and together, the Avatar and the Fire Lord lifted arms and opposing leg, the first move of the Dancing Dragon. In tandem, they dropped into a wide dipping step, exhaling with a warming stream of flame. Then a pivotal kick-off, two powered fists—

And a roar of fire!

"ARGH!"

Oh, wait, the only roaring fire was Aang's. Judging by Zuko's angry grunts, he had produced yet another measly puff.

Not that Zuko stopped. The (physically) older boy proceeded to power through the entire Dancing Dragon. Aang noted proudly that his form was perfect, if aggressive. And lacking fire.

"What's happening!" he screamed, going at it, again, and again, and it wasn't getting better. The scene was almost nostalgic.

Finally, Zuko sat. On the flat earthy ground, head in hands. Lightly, but not so quietly as to startle, Aang settled down cross-legged across Zuko.

"The last thing you remember, your entire purpose in life was to capture me so you could go home," he said softly. "Now that purpose has been pulled out from under you. It's no surprise your firebending has been affected."

Zuko's tone would have sounded bitter if it wasn't so tired. "It's not affected. It's gone."

"It's weaker, and temporarily," Aang assured him. "The same thing happened when you first joined us. Your purpose had changed, so you lost the rage that used to fuel your fire. Because of that, your bending weakened, just like this."

Desperately, Zuko asked, "How did I get it back?"

"You learned to connect your fire with your new purpose, and fuel it with new emotions. Then your bending returned, stronger than ever."

Zuko's tone was full of disbelief. "Stronger firebending. Without rage?"

"Yeah! Look at your uncle. Does he look like an angry old man to you? Yet he's the Dragon of the West! And, not to brag, but I'd say my firebending is pretty powerful, and that has nothing to do with anger." Aang was up now, gesturing passionately, consumed by the need to make Zuko see. "My fuels come from the desire to protect, to see light, to delight. Fire isn't just rage or heat, Zuko. Fire is energy, and life."

Zuko looked down at his hands, where they fell under the shadow of Aang's silhouette. He folded and unfolded his fingers, breathing controlled, and puffed a fiery breath.

A great splash echoed from the sparring ring and snapped Zuko out of his trance. He shook his head. The pensiveness in his expression was replaced by ire. "I'm listening to an Air Nomad."

Something inside Aang's soaring heart crashed and died. The trials, the dragons, the burdens only they shared? All of that meant nothing to this Zuko. Aang sighed, smile tight, and felt his resolve solidify like stone.

He had to get Zuko back.

...

Lunch went much better than breakfast. Way better, in Aang's opinion, because oh boy, it was hilarious to dangle knowledge of the time none of them remembered when someone was doing it with him.

"How about when Katara—?" said Suki, guffaws vibrating her tone.

"Ooh, ooh, and Zuko and Sokka—?" said Aang, utterly gleeful.

They burst into laughter. Aang was pretty sure they were laughing about the same thing, but who knew?

"Good times, good times," Suki sighed, wiping a tear from her eyes. Wow, she was almost as good at being dramatic as Sokka was. "Here we are, reliving these moments, me and Aang. Imagine if Toph were here."

Katara buried her flushing face in her hands. "Please, no. I'll never find a moment's peace again."

"Actually... about that," Aang began.

Katara whipped her head around sharply. "Tell me she's not on her way."

"She isn't, but I was thinking of contacting her because what if the amnesia doesn't have anything to do with location? What if it hit her, too?"

Katara's mouth went slack. "No."

Evidently, Sokka's manners had disappeared with his memories. Talking with his mouth stuffed full, he said, "Why ahr you so whorked up about dis, Katara? Whad can one blaind ghirl do?"

Dead silence.

Suki patted Sokka's cheek.

After the meal, the amnesiacs plus Aang and Hakoda made their way to the healer's hut. A Fire Nation imperial guard bowed to them on their way into the inner room where they found Healer Yanneh with the bespectacled Doctor Kan. The senior healer pushed Zuko onto a seat, rolled up Zuko's pant leg and sleeve—there was a splint there?—and scolded him for stressing his injuries. (Aang cringed and discreetly crept out of the healer's sight.) The old physician only sighed.

"They don't even hurt much, you did a great job, my ankle's fine—"

"You're his physician, tell him his injured joints need to rest!"

"Frankly, Yanneh? I have long since given up."

While a chagrined healer worked her glowing water on Zuko's wrist and ankle, the rest of them gathered around Doctor Kan's table.

"We've come up with three main possibilities. One," the doctor lifted a gloved finger. "The amnesia is caused by a toxin. Something that was ingested, inhaled, or brought into your bloodstream."

"A poison," said Zuko flatly.

Doctor Kan tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Perhaps. It would not be the first attempt, Fire Lord Zuko."

Katara's hand rose to her mouth, covering her gasp. Sokka sputtered. "You're saying my sister is in danger of murder attempts by association?!"

Zuko frowned. "That, or she is the target."

Sokka took his sister by the shoulders and shook her. "I knew you were a trouble magnet, but this? Why, Katara? Wasn't finding the Tui-damned Avatar enough?"

Katara slapped his hands away. "I will not turn my back on people who need me," she hissed and turned her nose up. Her father looked on sadly.

"If I may," began Aang with a confidence born from years of mediating conflict. "This doesn't seem like an assassination attempt. The hypothetical perpetrator doesn't seem to want Zuko and Katara gone. Just unfit to rule?"

"Even if the amnesia was permanent, that's not enough to keep Zuko off the throne. He can relearn. At most, it will put him on leave," said Chief Hakoda. "Perhaps the purpose is to make him and Katara forget important information. That could make Sokka a target as well."

"But the amnesia isn't permanent," insisted Zuko. "The throne always has enemies. Why waste the chance to do permanent damage or kill us?"

Katara shuddered. Aang grimaced. The chief was stony-faced.

The physician considered Zuko gravely. "There's always a chance that the three of you took too small a dose to achieve the intended effect. However, you have a point, Lord Zuko. The symptoms you are experiencing are quite unnatural." He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and pulled closer a very thick, heavily perused book. "I would argue that this amnesia is not the work of toxins at all."

Katara frowned. "What do you mean?"

He flicked through the large, annotated pages. Some of them were whiter and more spotless than the others, as if they had been added only recently to the heavy tome. "Let me paint the picture. Many plants and substances are known to induce memory loss. Belladonna," he pointed to an illustration of a plant with berries the shade of night. "Moonflower," a trumpet-shaped flower with spiny, seed-filled fruit. "Toxic fumes. Mercury. Cyanide. However, these toxins cause either short-term memory loss, permanent memory loss, or long-term memory loss with return in fragments. Nothing quite so clean and sequential as you experience. Furthermore, they come with other symptoms: headaches, vomiting, and diarrhea, among the mildest."

The amnesiacs all glanced at each other. "Nope." "None here." "My bowels are functioning fine."

The physician bobbed his head. "I would name more, but in short, is no record of a toxin that can cause long-term memory loss and return as cleanly and chronologically as this. Of course, we could be looking at a new toxin, but the science doesn't support the hypothesis.

"This brings us to our second possibility: The amnesia is the result of interference with your mind or chi. Trauma, chi-acupuncture, and waterhealing can all affect memory, but with memory return this sustained and controlled, the only plausible causes would be the hypnosis of the old Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom."

"When Jet was brainwashed, I resurfaced his true memories with just one healing session," Katara pointed out. "We already tried waterhealing on me and Sokka."

Healer Yanneh replied, "I would not give up just yet. Some of Ba Sing Se's Joo Dees... could not recover fully."

Somber silence fell.

"You can," began Zuko, hands fisted on his lap. "You can try on me later. If. If that would help." He locked eyes with Katara. "I trust you."

Chief Hakoda's face broke into a smile. "Good on you, Zuko."

Sokka addressed to Doctor Kan. "You said there were three possibilities. What's the third?"

"The third possibility is that the amnesia is caused spiritual forces. Perhaps forces encountered either recently or during your past travels with the Avatar."

Two out of three amnesiacs groaned, and neither appreciated the other's sympathy.

The discussion had continued for another hour, and by then, the chief had to go, and Sokka had lost patience for all the "spiritual mumbo-jumbo."

Aang had continued discussing with Doctor Kan, though. He told the physician about how he consulted the past Avatars, but none of them had experienced the same thing. They could probably rule "amnesia by virtue of knowing the Avatar" out, but there might have still been Avatar-related occurrences that led to this. On the other hand, Zuko sat down with Yanneh and Katara for a waterhealing session. Unfortunately, nothing had come of it, and they were back to square one. Zuko, the doctor, and the imperial guard then left for the airship.

Aang scratched out his latest attempt at Toph's letter with the graphite stick. Graphite sticks were always their standard writing tool when corresponding with the blind earthbender. This way, she could "read" the shapes formed on the paper. However, Toph still didn't understand all the characters, and often asked people to help translate for her. For confidentiality's sake, Aang had to be careful with his words.

When he was satisfied that he hadn't been too suspicious, Aang took his glider and soared to the owl-hawkery, cheerfully hollering and waving at the kids down below. He loaded the letter into the carrier of an owl that would fly to an Earth Kingdom bird tower. From there, the letter would be forwarded to Toph's current position.

He glided over the town some more, just to feel the fresh wind in his face, and was low over the outskirts when he heard a sound. A sound was an awful lot like one of Sokka's yells. Not the funny yell or the faking yell. Not even the freaked out yell.

The furious, fearful yell.

Oh no.

...

Three Hours Ago

"The force doesn't come from your arm, but from your core. When you hit, twist your torso first, and let the arm follow."

It took a few tries and demonstrations, but the girls were starting to get the hang of it. Suki could see the, to the untrained eye, subtle, but to the warrior, crucial changes. "Feel the difference? That's it, steady your footing. Pull back, twist, and follow through!"

The Kyoshi Warrior captain walked around to each individual, correcting the issues in their form. Naki and Tula were too conservative in their twist. Ina was twisting, but she was leveraging the momentum of the turn, not the strength of the core.

While she was adjusting the angle of Ina's arm, nudges and harrumphs began to percolate among the others. Suki turned to see the cause.

Ah, her idiot boyfriend was here.

She looked up at the sky, where the sun was as high as it got at this time of the year in the South Pole. "Alright, I think that's enough for one morning."

"But Suki—"

"Come on, it's almost lunchtime. Drill the exercises I showed you, and we can have another session tomorrow. Same time and place?"

Her impromptu class signaled their affirmative and dispersed. She tucked her hair into place and met Sokka halfway, his posture contrite. "I'm sorry, Suki."

She tilted her head curiously. "Don't tell me this amnesia affects recent memory too? You already apologized to me yesterday."

"Yeah, I know that. It's just... Today I remembered how we met on Kyoshi Island. My actions yesterday were incrediblystupid, in hindsight."

She grinned. "They were. Thanks for the fight, actually. I haven't had that much fun in a while. Turns out, there's a downside to the Kyoshi Warriors' new fame: Self-important jerks are now too chicken-pig to take you on."

When he didn't immediately respond, she peered back. He was twirling his beard in his fingers, thinking face on. She sent him a pointed look. He snapped to attention, speaking slowly, like he always did when he had a scheme and it was going to be drastic. "What would you say to having a little more fun?"

"Sokka, if you're suggesting a make-out session, the answer is no."

His face reddened comically. "That's— that's not— not that I'm opposed—"

Suki smirked. She didn't appreciate her boyfriend forgetting the things they've been through together, but this amnesiac state did have its perks. Then she heard Sokka's suggestion.

Yes, she thought, smirk widening further. It had excellent perks.

...

Thirty Minutes Ago

But did he really have to bring his Space Sword?

...

Thirteen Minutes Ago

Zuko wasn't lost, he wasn't. He was just... scouting the area. It wasn't his fault everything was white and that shades of blue were all the same to him. He at least knew how to find the Healing House from the square, but he'd rather not be seen on his own by any of the tribespeople, or Agni forbid, their children. Why had he refused the imperial guard's offer to escort him back through the city, again?

Right. Because he didn't want her to have to make the return trip across ice and tenuous peace alone, either.

"Whatcha got there, bro?"

"Nothing," snapped Zuko, whirling to Sokka's voice, hackles raised and on edge. His unwilling brother-in-law had found him, alone. Knife at his right hip, boomerang on his left, sword on his back. Zuko had no weapons and some firebending that was worse than ever. No one could see them where they were, tucked between buildings of ice. Zuko could scale that wall, leap to the next igloo then slide down to the square, and run to the Healing House. The Avatar would stop Sokka, if only because the teen didn't like violence. Hopefully, no waterbender would see Zuko steal across the roofs like a thief.

Sokka stepped forward, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Woah, buddy, no need to get so defensive. What's a private conversation between brothers?"

Zuko snarled and pulled back his free arm in a ready stance. "Come closer and I'll blast you."

"Chill. I just wanna talk—"

He stepped. Zuko spun. Ran to the wall with all momentum—

And found himself flat on his back, wind knocked out of his lungs.

"Sorry, Zuko," said a girl with red hair. She hovered over him, knee pressed into his diaphragm, and for a moment Zuko thought bizarrely of Ty Lee. Then she came into focus, with her upturned nose and indigo eyes. The Kyoshi Warrior. Just his luck. "Play along, please? Sokka needs to get this out of his system."

"Right," Zuko wheezed. "Only Sokka has a grudge."

"Relax. You don't remember it, but we've settled our differences. I hold nothing against you."

"...Not even burning down your village?"

"Sorry, what was that?" she said as she clicked metal handcuffs around his wrists. "I couldn't hear you through the sound of crackling flames and our houses breaking down."

"...I'm very sorry," and Zuko meant it, even if he was testing the handcuffs. The cuffs were tight, but the chain was thin and corroded, and icy to touch. A concentrated fire dagger should do it in. Did they not have better cuffs? And where was the bag? Great, in Sokka's hands.

The Kyoshi Warrior pulled him up, and like Ty Lee, she wasn't rough about it. "Thank you, Zuko. Now please, play along. He just has some statements to make. I won't let him hurt you."

There was a loophole in her promise. She didn't say anyone else wouldn't hurt him. But... she didn't seem like she liked to cause real pain. Well, he did owe her, and if it got bad, Zuko could run for it.

They marched him into an empty igloo and sat him on top of the furs. They wouldn't draw blood, then, probably. The sword just be an intimidation tactic, and Zuko could weather a beating.

Then Sokka reached into Zuko's bag and found the box.

"Hey, don't—"

"What is this, poison?" He peered inside and pulled out a manju. He squished the little brown steam cake between his fingers, brought it to his nose, sniffed, and chomped. "Mmm, delicious poison."

This wasn't what he agreed to! "Stop that!"

Sokka popped the rest into his mouth, manju turning into mush. "Thish ish quality shtuff!"

"I said stop!"

The glutton swallowed. "Sure, okay." And reached for another. Zuko made a noise of protest, but Sokka only chomped once more. His threats carried a muffled quality to them. "I'll stop if you spill."

"What." Zuko gnashed his teeth. "About?"

"Well, for starters," Sokka's clutch the box tightened, crumpling the cardboard where he held it. "What do you want with my family?

"I'm not going to hurt them—"

"I said," Sokka interrupted rudely, "What do you want with my family?"

Zuko's was beginning seethe with the deep-seated fury that had been missing the whole day. "Nothing," he grit. "If you really want to know, try asking me again when I have my memories back. Maybe then I'll have an answer for you."

His interrogator crossed his arms. He leveled a look, held it for a minute, and when Zuko's glare didn't give, he said, "Fine. What do you want with my sister?"

At this, Zuko's breath hitched. "Nothing."

His hesitation cost him. Sokka raised a brown brow. "As if. I see the way you look at her."

"I'm not going to try anything! Okay? I'm not— I'm not even thinking anything."

The brown brow lowered deliberately, a flat brown line framing sharp blue eyes, a shade lighter than Katara's. For one heart-stopping moment, Zuko thought that this deceptively idiotic brother-in-law was going to label all the pathetic things Zuko was thinking. He didn't. Sokka kept his silence until Zuko itched with the need to say something.

"Look, I... I get that you're worried. I've attacked you, but I'm not like that. Besides, she's a master bender, and I'm surrounded by her element all the time. No way can I get too close."

"You've thought about this a suspicious lot," observed Sokka.

Irritation came back in full force. "I'm thinking about this because you're forcing me to! Am I not allowed to reason?"

Suki hummed. "He's got a point, Sokka. Katara can definitely take care of herself."

"Yeah, yeah, her magic water's powerful now. But you've seen what this guy's capable of!" He jabbed two obnoxious fingers from his own eyes to Zuko's angry ones. "I'm watching you, Prince Hotman. Keep those firebendy hands to yourself." Then he started to walk away, as if just to make a cool exit, but Zuko then saw that he was taking the manju for himself and expected Zuko not to breathe a word about it.

Zuko snarled after him, "Should I keep this firebendy mouth to myself, too?" His interrogator whipped around—with murder in his eyes, and a fist to execute.

Zuko dodged the blow, busted the chain—ow, his wrist—and grabbed the bag. Missed the box, and great, now it looked like Zuko was attacking Sokka. Suki leaped for them, and Aang burst in. Swipe, elbow, check, air blast, duck, and kick—

This, Zuko realized as adrenaline coursed through the veins, this, Zuko understood. Muscles contracting and taking pain, dodging air and blows and running at full pace. As they slipped into the old patterns of give-and-take, Zuko relished in the sense the world finally started to make.

Thus devolved an all-out war between the four nations. The Southern Water Tribe did not appreciate being the battleground.

...

It was unclear who won. One hour, a freaked flock of snow owls, and a destroyed cabbage cart later, the council ruled that Fire Lord Zuko was the victim, probably, because he had a history of being attacked by amnesiac Sokka unprovoked. The evidence corroborated when witnesses had testified to hearing Sokka scream oddly specific threats ("Your lips will fall offonce I'm done with you!") as he ran after a flushing ("I meant talking! Tattling!") Fire Lord. The council also ruled that Kyoshi Warrior Captain Suki was innocent, surely, because she was not seen wreaking havoc and her track record showed her to be responsible. (Scoff, went Zuko, but those indigo eyes shut him up.) Avatar Aang had more than a little architectural damage to reconstruct. Sokka was punished to wash the entire next batch of laundry.

Katara looked on with vindictive pleasure as judgment descended.

"Yes," she hissed. "Now you can wash your own socks."

Flipping her braid dramatically in the face of Sokka's blubbering protests, she walked out.

Zuko, weakling that he was, followed her.

"Congratulations," he said and hoped it didn't sound even more awkward than it did in his head.

"What for?" Katara said oddly.

"Uh, congratulations for... this victory? You wanted him to do his share of the laundry, right?"

She laughed, mirth sparkling in her eyes, and Zuko reeled because he did that. "I'm surprised you remembered. Thanks, I am feeling very triumphant."

"Of course I remember. I didn't get to do my share of the laundry, either."

She stopped in her tracks to look up at him. "Zuko, no one blames you for overheating the water."

"I'm not talking about that. Though maybe I should be. But I'm actually talking about your parka. I didn't help you wash your parka. Which I ruined, so really I should have washed it all by myself, but I didn't." Her eyebrows were creeping upward, yet he kept on talking, couldn't stop talking, should probably stop talking but then he might not get another chance to explain.

"I got you a gift." He pushed the box of manju into her hands, creased and a little warm where he huffed heat onto it to get the dampness off after that impromptu battle. Miraculously, the rice cakes weren't squished, and he deemed them worthy enough for the apology, or at least the start of one. "To make up for it. Not that this will make up for it, but I should try. If you want more I can get more, or if you want something else I can get that too, but the chef assured me that this was one of your favorites especially whenever the weather's cold—"

He stopped mid-sentence. He stopped mid-thought. In fact, he was no longer capable of having any thoughts except her hand was on his.

"C'mon," she said, and her eyes were laughing again. Laughing at him this time, but with her gentle tug, he couldn't bring himself to care. "I won't be able to enjoy the food if we keep standing in the cold."

"It's— manju is better warm."

"Good thing I have a firebender with me, then."

"I, um, my bending isn't... cooperating."

"Zuko. I'm inviting you to eat with me. Now let's go before the food freezes any more."

Baffled, he said, "The food is my apology. And Sokka helped himself, so there isn't much left."

"I still want you to eat with me." Her tug grew more insistent, and for the third time that day, Zuko let himself be dragged along.

They spent the afternoon warming the manju by the fire, savoring the hot matcha creams they ensconced, and complaining about Sokka. Katara's stories about her childhood were fun and ludicrous, and because he wanted to run with the mood, Zuko told stories about Uncle.

"You're joking. He was out for an hour and came back with mountains of stuff?"

"Wish I was. Ugh, the weight alone must have slowed our ship down."

She sighed, leaned her head on his shoulder, and took his bare hands in hers to examine the grooves and nicks and callouses. At that moment, Zuko could have sworn his firebending returned. He was going to combust. She traced his palm lines, and he kept very still as she continued to ramble about someone called Aunt Wu. He gaped and argued when she tried to tell him why he was a powerful bender. He fell silent as she talked about the things she loved in his nation of fire, how the colorful fish of Ember Island reefs tickled her bare feet and how the mangos had so many varieties she could hardly pick. He listened as she told him that the palace staff could be stiff and aristocracy easily miffed, but the school children danced and the villagers cheered like they had all their hopes and dreams ahead.

All too soon, the light of polar afternoon faded. They got up to face the world beyond the fire of this hearth and each other. It was a very short walk to the kitchen, yet Zuko still noticed that he was no longer being dragged along. With Katara, he wanted to walk side-by-side.

Gran-Gran's eyes crinkled into a smile. She handed them tonight's unprepared meat and a knife. Zuko used what measly bending he had to defrost the fish and was secretly proud to have filleted the squids without splattering a drop of ink. When dinner was ready, so came the rest of the family, which apparently included Aang and Suki.

Aang yawned and excused himself early, exhausted after hours of waterbending various infrastructures back to former condition. Suki left to the igloo she had been staying at, and Gran-Gran and Granpakku turned in.

It was just the siblings, their father, and Zuko. Zuko would have preferred to stay out of this. He could still stay out of this. But every time he considered retreating to his room, he thought, no man should have to face his father and sister alone.

Hakoda turned to his son. "Sokka, what's going on?"

Sokka's mouth twisted scornfully. "What's going on is you don't even care that there's a dangerous firebender in our midst!"

That was backtalk. Accusatory backtalk. And now Hakoda was raising a hand to his son and horror choked down the cry in Zuko's throat—

The hand fell on Sokka's knee. It rested there.

No flames. Just a hand.

"What will it take for you to accept it?" said Hakoda gently. Gently? Zuko's head was spinning. "Zuko is not a threat."

"Maybe to you," his son muttered darkly.

"What," said Sokka, voice dripping with vitriol. "Think you can be a better grandson than me?"

An epiphany broke, and words came unstuck. "You feel like I'm replacing you."

Sokka rounded on him furiously. "I—!"

Katara gasped.

Sokka slumped. "Of course not."

The chief's face was unreadable. "Wait here," he said and got up and disappeared into the hallway. Katara scooted to Sokka's side, but he was still refusing to meet either of their eyes by the time Hakoda returned. He had his sleeping bag tucked under an arm, Zuko noted. With his other arm, the father hooked Sokka into a— was that a chokehold? Zuko began to get up, but— oh wait, Sokka was breathing fine if he could complain. It was just Lu Ten's old move. The headlock thing. A noogie.

"Time for some father-son bonding!" Hakoda declared and wrestled Sokka to the door. They grappled into the evening moonlight. Katara was laughing, Sokka was swearing, and Hakoda yelled over his shoulder. "Born tribesmen only! Katara, you're fine sharing with Zuko, right?"

Katara's laughter sputtered.

...What?

The door kicked closed with a final echo. "Thanks, Snowflake, g'night!"

Author's Note:

We are at the halfway point of the story! I would like to thank every single reviewer that helped motivate me to continue. I couldn't do it without you.

As a treat, here's a fun little scene from the day before in the airship, soon after Katara helped Zuko out of his breakdown. It didn't make it to Chapter 5 because it didn't match the tone, but I assure you, it happened. XD

Be reminded that the airship staff, bar the doctor and a handful of the most trusted guards, don't know about the amnesia. Everyone has to keep it hush-hush lest the gossip find its way back to the Fire Nation.

Onto the scene!

"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 key.

...

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.