"If I am not mistaken," Iroh said, poring over the map again, "we should be coming very near to our destination now. I imagine that we should arrive by late afternoon."

Today. It felt abrupt now that it was really happening. By the end of the day, they would have some idea of how Katara's bending had gotten all mixed up with Zuko's, and maybe they would even have things straightened out. They could, in theory, part ways before night fell.

That was a good thing. Katara knew that. She wanted her waterbending back. Zuko wanted to get back to his normal life too. This was exactly what they both needed.

The problem was—well, it wasn't a problem, not really—the weird thing was that it was just so abrupt. Katara had lost her waterbending, acquired Zuko's firebending, bargained and bickered with him, and over the past few days, sort of gotten used to his presence. The idea that all of that could be done so quickly, with so little ceremony, was jarring.

Sokka leaned across the saddle to get a look at the map. "So—it's somewhere around here?" He drew a rough circle on the map with his fingertip. "That's about as far as we can go in a day."

"A bit further to the west, but yes."

Zuko—at the back of the saddle as usual, but on the right side along with Katara this time—didn't so much as glance toward the map. Still, he said, "Makapu."

"What?" Katara said.

He looked a bit surprised, but then met her eyes. He cleared his throat. "Makapu. It's a coastal town we've been to a few times. That has to be where we're going."

Iroh smiled. "Excellent work, Nephew."

Zuko grunted. "I thought you weren't taking us to a tea shop. Wasn't that what you said?"

"It was. And I wasn't lying."

Katara raised an eyebrow at Iroh, then turned toward Zuko instead. He, at least, didn't tend to talk in circles. "Do you know where in this town we're going?"

Zuko nodded. "Pretty sure. And I'm pretty sure that's why Uncle wouldn't tell me the first time I asked." His expression hardened into a glare.

"Oh, come now, Nephew." Iroh made a placating gesture. "Madame Wu is a perfectly lovely woman."

"Yeah, you made that pretty obvious the last time we stopped, and you wouldn't stop flirting with her!"

Katara covered her mouth, but she couldn't suppress the laugh that burst out.

Zuko's ears went red, and surprisingly, he looked a tiny bit upset. "It isn't funny. She was flirting back, and she made me call her Aunt Wu."

Okay, that was still pretty funny, but at least Katara could understand Zuko's complete mortification. She offered a small, apologetic smile, which seemed to take Zuko off guard. He flushed a slightly deeper shade and looked away.

"Ah. I do understand how that may have been uncomfortable, Nephew. But Aunt Wu is what she prefers to be called by most people. She made no effort to single you out." Iroh stretched across the saddle to pat Zuko's arm. "It will be different this time."

Zuko grunted. "So what? This time you're not going to flirt with her?"

"Well—"

A prolonged groan.

"She is a dear friend of mine. I would hate to disappoint her."

With yet another groan, Zuko folded his arms on the rim of the saddle and buried his face in his sleeves.

Katara poked his elbow, then waited until he raised his head far enough to peer at her through narrowed eyes. "What kind of place is it? Are tea shops really that bad?"

His reply came out muffled. "They are if you're with Uncle. But this isn't a teashop. It's worse."

Though his tone was even grumpier than before, he watched her closely. Almost like he was waiting for her to answer, like he thought he knew what the answer would be.

Her face warmed uncomfortably, and she looked away before there could be any comment. On second thought, maybe she didn't mind the fact that they were splitting up so soon. She'd come way too close to embarrassing herself a few times now. Maybe splitting up would at least get her head back in the right place.

"This Makapu place," Sokka said. "Is it still in the Earth Kingdom?"

Iroh nodded. "Yes. And not in an area that is often visited by the Fire Nation if that is what worries you."

"It wasn't, but that kind of makes the problem worse."

Katara raised an eyebrow at him, and from the corner of her eye, she watched Zuko straighten. "What problem would that be?" As far as she was concerned, the fact that they weren't going to run into any Fire Nation soldiers had to be a very good thing.

"Zuko, obviously."

"Me?" Zuko's voice nearly cracked. "What did I do?"

"It's not what you did. It's what you didn't do." Sokka leaned back, sprawling his legs out so that his feet knocked into Katara's knees. "A disguise is only as good as the hair that goes with it. And that mostly-bald thing isn't doing it."

"What's wrong with being bald?" Aang called back from his perch on Appa's neck.

"Wait. I didn't say—that's not—what I meant was that—" Sokka finally gave up on his spluttering and let his head hang for an instant. "Okay, fine. The problem is that you two baldies might as well be walking around with big, flashing signs that say, 'not Earth Kingdom'. It's bad." When Aang shot a sad look back over his shoulder, Sokka added. "But Zuko's is worse, obviously. People get excited about seeing the Avatar. A firebender—well, a Fire Nation guy pretending to be Earth Kingdom is way worse. At least Katara and the old guy made an effort."

Made an effort was a fairly generous way to describe what Katara had done with her hair. She'd braided it. She'd packed her beads away with her parka, woven her loopies in with the rest of her hair, and braided it like normal. And Iroh hadn't done much more than untying his topknot and retying his gray hair into a much lower knot. By contrast, though, Zuko had hardly done anything at all.

To be fair, Katara couldn't see how there was anything he could do with that lone patch of long, sleek hair at the back of his head, short of shaving it all off. And to his credit, Zuko had at least changed out the red binding on his ponytail for a gray one. Still, she had to agree with Sokka. Zuko's hair wouldn't fool anyone.

"What am I supposed to do?" Zuko demanded. "I can't force the rest of my hair to grow out just so that I can look a little less Fire Nation by the end of the day."

Sokka scoffed. "Excellent point, genius. Have you considered a haircut? You know. A thing that's actually possible."

"What?"

"Snip, snip, smart guy." Sokka mimed a shearing motion with both hands.

Zuko clapped his hands over his head. "You are not cutting my hair."

"Why not? You look like a half-plucked arctic rooster."

Zuko's expression darkened. "Because I'm banished. I can't just pretend that I'm not. Keeping my hair like this is a sign of dishonor."

Once again, Katara's brows furrowed. That was such a strange thing to want to keep hold of. Sure, Zuko couldn't control the fact that he'd been banished. He couldn't just ignore that and go back home, but his hair was entirely within his control. If he wanted to make his life easier, he could cast that part of his punishment to the side any time he liked. He could leave and start a life with people who wouldn't be so awful to him.

Except that no one wanted firebenders around. Which seemed unfair now that she knew Zuko and Iroh a bit better. They weren't so bad once they gave up on hunting people down.

"Sounds like an even better reason to cut it if you ask me."

"Well, I didn't ask you." Zuko crossed his arms. "I'm not going to cut my hair when this could all be over by the end of the day. And wouldn't it be worse to have two completely bald people?"

Sokka made a face. "I think you're underestimating the amount of stubble you've grown in the past few days."

Scowling, Zuko covered his head again. There were faint, grayish shadows across most of his head where the fine black stubble had begun to fill in the previously clean-shaven parts of his scalp, and his sleeve caught and clung to some of the pricklier bits. In combination with the ponytail, it did look a little silly, but the stubble itself wasn't so bad. If he would let his hair grow out evenly, he might even look nice.

But she could also see his point about all of this being over soon. She could hardly ask him to make such a drastic change for the sake of one afternoon.

Instead, she craned her neck to look back over her shoulder. "Hey, Aang."

"Yeah?"

"Could Zuko borrow your hat when we get to Makapu?"

Aang perked up and twisted almost all the way around to grin at them all. "Oh, yeah! Zuko, you can use my hat if you want. It's just in there." He pointed vaguely at the mound of supplies.

Zuko frowned. "Where is there?"

Rather than waiting for Aang to respond, Katara crawled to the back of the saddle, rustled around a bit, then passed the broad, woven straw hat to Zuko, accidentally bumping his shoulder in the process. By the time that she returned to her own spot, Zuko had flushed scarlet and was busily avoiding her gaze.

"Um—thanks," he said, voice stiff as he played with the cords that would fasten beneath his chin.

"You're welcome," Katara answered primly before she settled against the rim of the saddle. "But I agree with Sokka. A haircut would be a good idea."

Zuko glanced up at her, frowning, before turning his attention back to the hat for a few more beats. Then, just when Katara was convinced that he wasn't going to respond, he sighed. "Fine. If this doesn't work, then maybe I'll think about it."

There weren't many good things he could say about Makapu. The place was mostly as Zuko remembered it—crowded, colorful, and noisy—and although there were significantly fewer staring eyes following Zuko than usual, there were more on the Avatar. Which really wasn't much better than being stared at himself. The attention was still there, it was just aimed far enough to the side that Zuko could be lulled into a false sense of security if he wasn't careful.

He placed himself as far from the Avatar as possible, and once again found himself by Katara. How did he keep doing that? It wasn't like she was the worst walking companion he could imagine. Actually, she was a lot better than her idiot brother or the Avatar, but it wasn't like he tried to seek her out. It just sort of tended to happen. And he was not terribly comfortable with that.

He kept his head down as they made their way across the village, through clusters of empty-headed villagers gushing about Aunt Wu's most recent predictions, only giving small grunts of acknowledgement when Katara commented excitedly on the elegant carvings on some of the doors they passed and the decorative banners hanging from lampposts.

Okay, so there weren't many good things that he could say about Makapu except for the fact that Katara seemed to like the place. And Zuko wasn't sure why that mattered to him, but it was almost enough to tempt him into peering up from beneath the rim of the hat. Almost enough to make him think that there might be things worth seeing here despite the fact that Uncle had dragged him here a few times before. Despite the fact that there'd never been anything that he couldn't have seen just as easily in any other Earth Kingdom village.

Almost. He wasn't actually deluded enough to think that anything had changed in Makapu or that Aunt Wu would be much help. But Katara's genuine enthusiasm, combined with the fact that she knew how to contain herself, unlike the Avatar, made the walk a little more pleasant than it would have been otherwise.

He couldn't say the same for arriving at Aunt Wu's house, though. Even before Uncle pushed open the door, Zuko caught a whiff of the heavy perfume and incense that had permeated the building every other time he'd had the misfortune of visiting. Ugh. The aroma was almost stifling, and it turned his stomach sour.

"Why, if it isn't my good friend, the general." Aunt Wu spoke in the same deep, smokey tone as always, the one that she seemed to think made her seem more mysterious and her lies more convincing. "And quite a flock of young ones as well. Though if I am not mistaken, one seems to be missing."

Zuko raised his head just far enough to glare at Aunt Wu from beneath the brim of the hat. Which, unfortunately, was quite a long way, since the old lady was still half a head taller than him. "Some fortune teller you are," he grumbled. "Didn't your spirit friends tell you that Uncle and I would be in disguise?"

"They did indeed," Aunt Wu said. She swept her arms around, and her enormous sleeves sent a puff of heavy, perfumed air straight into his face. "But the spirits do not always reveal the truth directly. They compel us all to act as they please, and thus we reveal the truth ourselves."

Great. Less than a minute in, they hadn't even set foot through the front door, and Zuko was already starting to feel the beginnings of a headache thanks to all this nonsense. And if he knew anything about Aunt Wu, it would just be downhill from here.

From Katara's far side, there was a scoff, then a small grunt when Katara elbowed Sokka in the ribs.

Uncle stepped back beside Zuko and rested a hand on his shoulder, smiling in a way that clearly warned him not to say anything too rude. "It is lovely to see you again, Madame Wu. My nephew and I, along with a few new friends, are in great need of your assistance. I hope that you can spare us an hour or two."

Aunt Wu pursed her lips, then nodded and turned back inside, motioning them all in after her. "I hope that the other young ones have better manners than your nephew."

Zuko rolled his eyes but followed along after all the others. He didn't like it. The thick, incense-laden air inside the house always made him feel a bit sick, and Aunt Wu spewed more spirit-y nonsense than even Uncle could fit into a day, but right now, he didn't have much choice. If he wanted his firebending back, he had to at least pretend to listen to what she had to say.

Once they'd all made it into the parlor and Aunt Wu bustled off to the back of the house, Katara nudged him. "She's a fortune teller?"

"She claims that she's a fortune teller," Zuko answered in a mutter. "It's all nonsense. She just keeps all her 'predictions' vague enough that no one can prove her wrong so they can't complain later. And for some reason, people seem to buy it." He glanced back over his shoulder to check that the door was closed, then pushed the hat back off of his head.

Sokka, to his surprise, gave an appreciative nod. "Yeah, Katara, all of this sounds like a load of—" He paused when a small, bushy-haired girl with a tray of pastries entered from the back. "Oooh, snacks."

Katara scowled at Sokka, then turned a skeptical look at Zuko. "You don't think this is real?"

"You do?"

"I don't know yet. I haven't heard any of her predictions. But I'm not about to say that it's impossible now that we both know what the spirits can do to people."

Zuko was about to argue when the little girl managed to wrench the pastry tray out of Sokka's reach and circled around to Aang, then Uncle, then stopped in front of Zuko and Katara.

"Would you care for a gingerpear tart? That's all we have left now that that boy took all the rest."

Katara reached out for one of the tarts, but Zuko shook his head.

"I've had Aunt Wu's tarts before. I'm pretty sure she sprays perfume on those too."

Katara hesitated just short of the tray and raised an eyebrow up at Zuko.

Sokka seemed less concerned. He shrugged. "So what? Perfume smells good. I bet it tastes good too." With that, he popped an entire egg-sized wagashi into his mouth chewed a few times, then wrinkled his nose and let out a disappointed whine.

"Told you," Zuko muttered.

Katara pulled her hand back from the tray. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass."

The little girl gave an inelegant bow before meandering back toward the Avatar.

Letting out a slow breath, Zuko wiped his slightly sweaty palms against his pantlegs and stared at the pale, time-worn floral paintings on the back door of the parlor. Much as he didn't want to see Aunt Wu again—though Uncle's flirting hadn't really started yet, it seemed inevitable—another part of him was desperate to get this over with. Desperate for this to work.

But how could it possibly work? Aunt Wu couldn't read people's futures, much less grab onto their bending and shuffle it around until things turned out right again. The most she could do was speculate about how this had happened in the first place and then probably tell them to do the same thing in reverse to undo it. And they'd already tried that.

Still, it had to work. What would Zuko do if he was stuck as a waterbender for the rest of his life? Give up on his mission and move to some isolated glacier in the mountains where his bending would work, and no one would look for him? Even to him, that sounded depressingly lonely.

And at the same time, what would he do if it did work? He had his agreement with Katara, that much was fine. He was okay with setting aside his mission for a month, or at least resigned to it. A month doing nothing on his ship wouldn't be the end of the world. But getting back to his ship after three days of traveling by sky bison was a more difficult notion to contend with. And facing the inevitable questions about the day that he and Uncle had fled—that seemed practically impossible.

His bending might go back to normal, but Zuko wasn't convinced that the rest of his life ever could.

Aunt Wu was gone for long enough that Sokka and the Avatar eventually made their way over to the cushions along the wall and settled down to wait, but Zuko couldn't bring himself to sit. Neither, apparently, could Katara, and when Zuko began pacing, he had to swerve several times to avoid crashing into her as she wandered uneasily around the parlor.

If not for the fact that he could feel the others watching them, Zuko might have asked whether she was okay. Maybe. She was obviously worried, and it might have been a good idea to at least acknowledge that fact. But the others were watching, so the most that Zuko could bring himself to do was briefly meet her eyes as they passed a few times, just long enough to see her hands clenched tight and her brows drawn downward.

The muscles in his jaw tensed, and he forced himself to look away.

The door at the far end of the room slid open while Zuko's back was turned. "Welcome, my beloved guests, new and old. The spirit world opens her arms to greet you."

When Zuko turned back around, he was struck by a gust of sickeningly sweet incense smoke, and he nearly gagged.

Uncle bowed absurdly low. "Thank you, Madame Wu. We are all very grateful for your assistance."

Aunt Wu winked, which sent Zuko's skin crawling. Then in a grand, theatrical gesture, she spread her arms out as wide as they would go and slowly curled them back inward until her fingertips pressed against her temples. "I am receiving a message from the spirits. A message that tells me that all is not well in this room."

Sokka snorted. "Great prediction."

"Sokka," Katara hissed.

Aunt Wu either didn't hear that, or she pretended not to. Eyes pressed shut, she extended one arm in front of her and drifted around the room until her hand hovered over Sokka's head. "This one will catch a fishhook in his arm before the week is out."

"Hey!" Sokka squawked. "I resent that."

Without opening her eyes, Aunt Wu dropped into a much more natural voice. "I haven't finished yet, young man." Then resuming her act, she drifted toward the Avatar. "And this one will fight many battles in his time."

Shocking. Zuko barely managed to stifle a groan, but he still caught a warning look from Uncle. What was he supposed to do? Act surprised that the Avatar would be involved in a lot of battles? Anyone could guess that.

"And you—" Aunt Wu paused in front of Zuko, frowned, then opened her eyes a slit to glance toward Katara. "Ah. I see why you are here."

"You do?" Katara sounded more hopeful than skeptical, and Zuko's stomach sank. Was she really going to fall for all of this?

Aunt Wu nodded. "Your chi has shifted, and I sense a link between the two of you." Facing Katara, she added, "You are not a natural firebender, are you, dear?"

Katara shook her head. "No, I'm not."

"And you are not accustomed to waterbending either," That part was directed at Zuko, and he frowned. "It sits too heavy inside of you."

Something about the matter-of-fact way that she said the last bit niggled at his insides. He crossed his arms tight over his chest. No matter how close Aunt Wu got to the core of the issue, it was nothing but guesswork. Zuko knew that. He knew better than to believe in any of this fortunetelling nonsense.

"Do you know how to fix us or not?" he asked, voice harsh, even to his own ears.

Aunt Wu pressed her lips together and raised a single penciled-on eyebrow. "Impatient as ever, aren't you?"

He couldn't argue with that point. He didn't see why he should even want to. If Aunt Wu couldn't do anything or at least tell them what had happened to their bending, then they were wasting Aunt Wu's time just as much as she was wasting theirs.

"I think what my nephew means to say is that we have traveled quite a long way in the hopes of getting your advice and assistance," Uncle inserted smoothly. "And I, of course, am delighted to see my favorite lady again."

Aunt Wu smiled coyly at Uncle. "Don't tell me that you've been saving yourself for me, love, or I might blush. I have all the companionship I could ask for right here in Makapu." She swept toward the back door again, allowing her sleeves to flutter in the stale air of the parlor. "The widowers keep my hands quite full."

This time, it wasn't just the perfume that made him gag. Katara took a step toward Zuko, looking wildly uncomfortable.

"Come," Aunt Wu said, lapsing back into her usual fortuneteller voice. "Just the two of you. I will provide a reading and see if there is anything that I and the spirits can do to assist."

Zuko's brows crept downward into a scowl. "I don't want a reading, I just want to know what's wrong with my bending and how to get it back to normal."

"The two things are the same. I cannot tell what has happened to your bending without performing a reading first."

He groaned, but Katara sighed, then tugged on his sleeve. "Come on. It can't be that bad."

Reluctantly, he followed. "I can promise you it won't be good."

A curious look landed on the side of his face as they stepped out of the parlor and into the back hall. Aunt Wu closed the door after them before sweeping off toward another door at the far end of the house.

"You've gotten a fortuneteller's reading before?"

Zuko frowned. "Yeah. It wasn't exactly optional when Uncle made us stop to visit his crazy friend before." A pause. "Do you think that this is real or something?"

"Don't you?"

He was fairly certain that Katara wasn't stupid, but that was hardly the best sign he'd seen. "Of course not. She didn't actually predict anything. It's all obvious guesses."

Katara frowned before starting off toward the now-open door at the far end of the hall. "So how did she know that our bending was all messed up? She said that I wasn't a natural firebender."

"Yeah, well you don't exactly look Fire Nation."

"But how did she know that I can firebend right now? Hmm?"

Zuko had to stop and consider that point. Aunt Wu knew him from previous visits, and she knew that he was a firebender by birth. But she had correctly guessed that he'd acquired the ability to waterbend, and that wasn't exactly a likely outcome. A few weeks ago, Zuko would have even said that it was impossible.

"Uncle must have told her," he answered after a moment as they passed by a faded, yellowing illustration of an open palm tacked up on the wall.

"When? I didn't hear him say anything. And your uncle hasn't left us long enough to explain any of that to anyone."

"Well, then—" Ugh, he really had to think about that. "Maybe he sent a letter ahead. If I know anything about Uncle, it's that he's an incurable gossip."

"Mm-hmm. And when do you think he sent this letter? Has he been sneaking off to write letters while the rest of us were riding Appa?"

She had a point. Zuko didn't want to admit it—he really didn't want to admit it—but it was at least true that Uncle would've had a difficult time sending a letter over the past few days. And before that, he wouldn't have known that he even needed to contact Aunt Wu, so the possibility that a letter had gone out back when they were still on the ship and Uncle still had time to sneak off to write his gossip-filled notes was vanishingly small.

"I'm not sure," he said, voice a bit weaker than he liked. "But I'm sure he must have."

Katara gave a small smirk and paused just outside the door where Aunt Wu had disappeared. "So let me get this straight. You're more inclined to believe that your uncle has magical letter-sending abilities than to think that Aunt Wu might know a little something about the spirits and might be able to see parts of the future. You're almost as ridiculous as Sokka is."

Zuko started to protest, but Katara spun away before he had the chance and pranced off into the next room. Scowling, he trudged in after her.

"Sit, please." Aunt Wu gestured grandly toward two slightly threadbare cushions just on the other side of the irori filled with bright, glowing coals. "There are several tests that I must try in order to determine what has become of your bending."

Since Katara was already angling for the cushion on the left, Zuko aimed for the one on the right and sat down stiffly, trying not to pay too much attention to how close the two of them were placed. If he leaned to the side even a little, his shoulder would brush against Katara's.

"I'm pretty sure I already know what's wrong with our bending," he said. "I've got hers and she's got mine. Somehow. We don't know how it happened, but that doesn't really matter if we can just get it back to the way it was before."

Aunt Wu stared at him disapprovingly for a second before she turned to Katara instead. "May I see your hands, child? Their lines can say a great deal about a person's destiny."

Zuko almost wanted to stop Katara. He remembered the first time that he'd come here with Uncle. He'd been just a bit past thirteen then, freshly banished and still clinging to any scrap of hope he could find, no matter how tenuous and absurd. He remembered what Aunt Wu had told him then—that his journey would be long and difficult, and that the longer he clung to his mission, the more of his hope for true happiness and fulfillment would turn to dust.

Even if he believed in Aunt Wu's predictions, that one was far too distant and indistinct to prove one way or the other. And he couldn't just take her word for it. He couldn't believe that his life was over so early and with so little warning. Even if he wanted to believe that her predictions were real, he could never accept the future she'd foreseen for him.

"Ah. I see a remarkable love in your future. Strong and passionate, like very few will ever have the fortune to know in their lives."

Katara sat a little straighter. "Really? Can you see anything else about this person I'm going to fall in love with, or—"

Zuko shot a scowl in her direction. "That's exactly the same nonsense that she told me the last time Uncle dragged me here. After she'd already told me that my life would be awful. It's all made up. Both of those things can't be true at the same time."

Aunt Wu glared at him. "You have a bad habit of oversimplification, young man. I don't need to read your palms to see that much."

Katara looked annoyed with Zuko, but she sighed, rolled her eyes, and let her shoulders slump inward a little. "Fine. I'll skip the romance reading. We really need to know about getting our bending back right now." She gave Zuko a significant look. "Then maybe I'll come back here later to hear the rest once Mister Grumpy isn't waiting around and being impatient."

If she really believed that things would be that simple, Zuko was a little impressed by her optimism. He didn't think that optimism was particularly useful right now, or that Aunt Wu's readings would bring them much clarity, but it was still remarkable how much force Katara could put behind her positivity.

"Of course." Aunt Wu's tone turned a little frosty when she looked at Zuko. "But now I will need to see your friend's hands. I've seen them before, but even I can't quite remember all of the details."

With a groan, Zuko did his best to push back the memory of the first time Aunt Wu had read his palms before extending his hands out over the glowing coals.

Carefully, Aunt Wu looked from one set of palms to the other, back and forth, over and over. Then, after a minute or two of uncomfortable silence, she straightened and gave a satisfied nod. "Just as I suspected. The two of you share such remarkable similarities that the spirits may have gotten confused and misplaced your energies."

Zuko blinked. "That's your explanation for what happened? The spirits got confused?"

Katara both looked and sounded affronted. "We're not that much alike. We can't be. We've barely known each other for a week, and I can already tell you a hundred things that make us different from each other." She glanced at Zuko again. "For one thing, I'm not a grumpy cynic like him."

Aunt Wu shook her head. "I said that you shared similarities, not that you are the same. There is a difference between being perfectly alike and being complementary." She grabbed one of each of their hands and hauled them a little closer, then traced a sharp fingernail across their palms. "This line, for instance, is precisely the same for both of you, while this one differs a good deal."

"Yeah? What lines are those supposed to be?" Zuko asked sarcastically.

"The love lines are the same and the life lines contrast, if you must know."

He felt his eyes widen, and he glanced involuntarily at Katara. "Are you saying that—"

"No," Katara said hastily. "No, that must be a mistake. There's no way that we can be that much alike—there."

Aunt Wu looked even less impressed with the two of them. "Am I to believe that your love line has turned you into a skeptic so quickly?" she asked Katara.

"That's—I'm not sure. But it sounds—"

"It's ridiculous," Zuko said, wrenching his hand back. "Really, it's probably a good thing if Katara doesn't believe this stuff anymore. Obviously it's just—some kind of scam. Just like always."

Wide eyed, Katara nodded. "Right. Yeah, that must be it. Zuko—maybe you're right about this. Maybe it's all just silly."

Aunt Wu sighed, tilting her face up to the ceiling. "Would it help if I pretended that I never mentioned the love lines and just went on with the reading?"

"Yes, please," Katara said, voice small and uncharacteristically meek.

That earned them both another frosty, disapproving look, but Aunt Wu reached across and snatched Zuko's wrist again. "Now. As I was saying, the two of you share many striking similarities. And where you differ—" Her nails traced a sharp line across each of their palms. "You complement one another. In the eyes of the spirits, you are a matched pair, bound together by history and nature. Distinct, but more so to the eyes of mortals than to the spirits."

Zuko felt Katara glance his way, eyes tracing over the harsh ridges of his scar, and he met her gaze almost involuntarily. If he looked deep enough, he thought he could see something familiar staring back at him from somewhere deep inside of her—something more than the familiarity of the face he'd gotten to know over the past few days, something more than the fiery glint of his own bending buried in her core where it didn't belong.

His face turned hot, and he looked down before anything more could be said.

"When this change occurred," Aunt Wu began, "Were you both traveling with the Avatar?"

"Not exactly," Katara said. "I was traveling with Aang. Zuko was just sort of—chasing us. And fighting with us."

"But you were both near the Avatar at the time, is that correct?"

"Yes. I guess so."

Aunt Wu nodded. "And was he in the Avatar State when your bending shifted?"

"What difference does that make?" Zuko asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the glowing coals in the irori so that he wouldn't have to look at Katara and set his face burning again.

"The Avatar holds control over all the elements and stands as the guardian of the entrance to the spirit world," Aunt Wu said, waving her hand over the coals to make them glow brighter with the burst of fresh air. "And as some of the spirits hold power over bending itself, there have been Avatars in the past who were able to harness the full extent of their powers to make some—adjustments to the abilities of others."

"Aang did this to us?" Katara sounded aghast. "But he's been trying to help us fix it."

"He could not have made such a drastic change on his own. Even the most powerful Avatars of the past could do no more than silence or reawaken the energies that fed another's bending." Another sweep of her hand summoned up a wispy plume of smoke. "But in entering the Avatar State, it is possible that your friend inadvertently granted the spirits access to the two of you. And once the spirits had their hands on you, the energies began to swirl until—" She clapped her hands so forcefully that Zuko and Katara both jumped. "In an instant of perfect alignment, your energies became so entangled that you each lost hold of your own element and gained the other."

Zuko's resolve faltered, then failed, and he glanced over at Katara. "Perfect alignment? You mean—when we literally crashed into each other in the middle of a fight, that was the spirits' idea of 'perfect alignment'? That's insane."

Aunt Wu glowered. "A moment of shared anger, frustration, and resolve may be a powerful one, regardless of your individual aims."

"Okay," Katara said slowly. "Assuming that that's true, is there a way for us to get things back to normal? Because we've already tried, and I know we both wanted to get our own bending back. Isn't that enough?"

"If it were, I'm sure that you would have your proper elements back already," Aunt Wu sounded almost flippant about that. "It can't possibly help if you continue to resist your complementary sides. They are what brought you together in the first place. They are the most likely thing to tempt the spirits back to right their mistake."

"So—what are we supposed to do? How do we embrace our complementary sides?"

A shrug. "Spend time together. Get to know each other. Findthe points you share in common and allow them to flourish." Aunt Wu paused and gave them each a significant look. "And a few romantic evenings together could hardly go amiss."

"What?" Katara's voice came out much higher than usual. "That's your advice?"

"To my knowledge, this is the only time that two people have traded elements. I can speculate on how such a thing may have happened, but I can hardly say for certain how it might be undone."

A strangled-sounding groan burst out of Katara, and as she swung her hands up to press the heels of her palms against her eyes, the coals flared to life, sending out an eruption of sparks.

Zuko swore aloud, flinging up an arm to shield his face, then grabbed her shoulder with his free hand. "Katara. Katara, the fire!"

He could only see a sliver of her profile as she lowered her hands, then yelped in surprise and alarm at the sight of the flames. Her hands swung back down, and as quickly as the fire had flared up, it dissipated again. But rather than returning to a soft, orangish glow this time, the fire sputtered out entirely, and the room went dark. Pitch dark.

"Sorry!" Katara said hastily. "I'm sorry. I think I can light it again."

The fire sputtered and sparked a few times before it caught and blazed back to life. Zuko blinked against the sudden brightness, slowly lowering his arm away from his face.

"I'm sorry," Katara repeated, quieter and more uncertain than before. "I didn't—I mean, did I hurt you?"

She was looking straight up at Zuko, mouth pressed into a thin line and forehead creased with something like concern. His breath caught in his throat. Was she actually worried about hurting him? Why?

Mouth dry, Zuko shook his head. "No. No, I'm fine. Just—surprised." When that didn't convince her to give in and turn away, Zuko turned back to Aunt Wu, face burning. "There has to be more that you can tell us. If we have to keep going like this, someone is going to get hurt because neither of us knows how to control our bending."

Frowning deeply, Aunt Wu brushed away the ash that had landed on her vibrant yellow sleeves. "I have told you all that I know. The spirits have caused this problem. You must appeal to them if you wish to fix it." Then, head still aimed downward, she stared across at both of them. "And you might consider teaching one another a bit of your own elements if you wish to avoid further mishaps like this."