Evening was settling over the desert by the time they made it to Misty Palms Oasis. Those buildings that had doors were locking down for the night, shutters dropping. The busiest building was the grimy cantina near the center of the city, which Zuko imagined never actually closed. Plenty of "nocturnal" types to keep the drinks flowing.

"Oh thank God," Alfred exhaled, apparently completely heedless of his surroundings. "I was starting to think this place didn't have any bars."

"Alcohol exists here," Iroh said. "It is simply not to most people's tastes. There are negative connotations."

"Like what, being a drunk?"

"Among other things. I imagine you'll get to see nearly all of them in a matter of moments—"

"People in earshot," Zuko warned. "Common language only. Alfred, stop talking."

Alfred wrinkled his nose comically, but complied.

The people lingering by the door, bounty hunters and dealers of spirits-knew-what gave the trio a wide berth, which suited Zuko just fine. Alfred's bright smile, while usually his best disarming tactic, had one of them jump back even further.

Odd.

Alfred looked confused and a little put out. Iroh patted his shoulder consolingly.

The inside of the cantina wasn't much better. Zuko didn't like the look of the clientele huddled around the tables and in the dark corners at all. The only thing the squat lamps scattered around the place served to illuminate was how disgusting the tables looked.

Alfred poked his arm insistently, his other hand pointing at the bar. Zuko shook his head firmly. No, he sure as hell didn't want to eat here.

Poke-poke-poke.

Zuko spared him another glance and immediately looked away. "Tch." '-damned lion-puppy eyes!'

He needed a distraction. "Uncle, why are we here?"

"We still have a moose-lion pelt to trade," Iroh reminded, scanning the room. His eyes alighted on a Pai Sho table in the far back of the room. "But first, a game."

Zuko rolled his eyes at Iroh's enduring gaming habit. "Are you kidding? That could take hours."

But Iroh was already making his way over. He dismissed Zuko's protest with a vague wave. "This one will be quick. Get Alfred one of those mango drinks, would you?"

Alfred perked up anew. "Mango?"

Zuko gave him a look. "How in Koh's name did you learn the common word for mango and no other words?"

Of course the blond didn't answer, save a quizzical look. Zuko grumbled and dragged him to the counter. Might as well get one for himself too–Uncle usually liked to play drawn out mind games with his Pai Sho opponents.

Matthew trailed further and further behind the group. None of them had noticed yet, but he figured as long as he could see them it was fine.

'Besides,' came a small, uncharitable voice from the back of his mind, 'it isn't as if they know where they're going either.'

He shook that thought away as best he could. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him lately. He just felt bad. He needed something, and he didn't know what. There was just this–awareness, on the very edge of his consciousness. He was missing something very important. It was like being thirsty. Which he was, but this was something else. Similar. Deeper. Pushing.

It was as new to him as it was maddening.

Matthew wondered if this was heat sickness. He didn't have any deserts of his own back home. Well–there was Okanagan Valley. But he'd been told quite frankly that it didn't count because "it rains too much" which made it "a semi-arid shrubland".

Dieu, desert Nations were the worst gatekeepers sometimes. It was no Sahara, but it was still drier than the rest of him! Didn't that count for something?

Apparently not. No kitschy cactus mugs for Canada. More importantly, no supernatural heat tolerance. Alfred couldn't get a sunburn if he tried and Matthew still wasn't sure what he'd ever done to earn such a big 'fuck you' from God.

Canada was working on a theory that if enough of his citizens purchased real-estate in Arizona he could get in on a technicality. America wouldn't care that much so long as they kept spending money there.

At least it was cooling down now. He'd learned on the African front in WWII that deserts could get cold at night, so this was an evening he'd been looking forward to for hours now…but it didn't help like he thought it would.

Now, he'd gone without water before. Things happened during campaigns and sometimes the water simply wasn't drinkable. But it was just—so dry here. He was too dry here.

"Water break," Katara called just as he caught up to the group. Everyone collapsed gratefully into the sand as Katara popped her waterskin open.

"This'll be the last of it."

Matthew's gaze affixed itself onto the waterskin as he waited impatiently for his turn. He tried to stay gentle when he grabbed it but by Sokka's frown he hadn't been gentle enough. Oh well. Even his strength got away from him sometimes.

There was so little water left. A few swallows, really. Not nearly enough…

"Uh…Matthew?"

Matthew looked up at Katara. She looked concerned.

"Drink some. Your skin is still red."

"The sun burned me," Matthew explained shortly. He looked down at the too-light waterskin in his hands. It would be a matter of seconds to drink the whole thing and no one would even think it was odd…

Except he was surrounded by human children. They needed it far more than him and damn it he knew that. He was taught from a very young age that any Nation should be ready to give their ration to a needy human under their care. Humans simply can't go as long without food or water as a Nation can.

He really needed to get a grip on himself and whatever this was.

Matthew sipped modestly and passed it on before he could change his mind. He could feel it trickling meagerly down his throat. He heaved a deep sigh. He had an insane little thought about how nice it would be to take a big bite from a glacier right now

Everyone was staring at him. Matthew raised both eyebrows in question. "What?"

Aang's eyes were wide. "Did you just do what I think you did?"

Matthew frowned at him. "What did I do?"

"When you breathed out," Katara managed. "You…Matthew, you made—"

The last word was one he didn't recognize. Matthew stared at her. "I don't understand."

"Wait." Toph clearly hadn't seen whatever they were talking about, but she seemed to understand whatever they were getting at. "But he's older than us! How would he not know by now?"

Dieu, of all the times to deal with a translation problem. Matthew asked them outright, "Something is wrong with me?"

Aang choked on nothing at all. "Wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, Matthew," Katara looked like she'd probably tear up if she had the moisture to spare. "It's wonderful. A blessing from Tui and La!"

Tui and La–that was the ocean and the moon, right? All the different spirit names still threw him off now and then. But what did that have to do with—?

Sokka unexpectedly burst into cackles. "Three! Three waterbenders and not a drop to share!"

Three waterbenders. Three waterbenders? All at once, Matthew understood. That feeling. That horrible, soul-deep thirst…

'The timing really couldn't have been worse,' Matthew reflected ruefully. He wasn't sure how to express the irony, so instead he simply said, "I feel sick."

"Of course you do," Katara squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. "New benders always feel it the most. Benders need their element, Matthew. Without it—..." Katara stopped abruptly, her expression giving way to worry. She reached up to test his forehead. "Or...don't worry. We just need to keep moving, alright? We'll get you some water soon."

That sounded really good right now. Katara gathered the group to keep moving, this time keeping Matthew well within her sight.

Three mango juices in, Alfred sat aside and silently studied the 'Pai Sho' game. It reminded him a little bit of chess, or that time Vietnam taught him how to play Go. But it was kinda…not making any goddamn sense. If Alfred didn't know better, he'd say this looked less like a game and more like a choreographed performance.

Matthew often liked to comment on what he called Alfred's 'well-hidden gambling habit'. Usually when he was in one of his no-fun snippy moods. And it wasn't like Alfred fully agreed with his brother's assessment…but he did enjoy games. He'd have to ask Iroh how to play.

Zuko claimed the seat right next to his uncle. He wasn't paying any attention to the game at all, instead holding some sort of menacing staring contest with some other patron that existed somewhere out of Alfred's line of sight.

This time, Alfred couldn't really blame him. Nearly every interaction with other people they'd had since he joined them was a bad one. Since walking through the door Alfred had been experiencing that off-kilter, hair-raising feeling that came with being watched too closely. But in a dark bar full of knives, he didn't really know where to look first. So he'd continue to play dumb until something happened.

'Besides,' Alfred chuckled silently to himself, 'Zuko seems to enjoy being the angry watchdog.'

The pieces (and boy, were there a lot) were taking a particular shape on the board. Alfred marveled at the sheer sneakiness of it. He hadn't even been able to see it until it was already nearly done: a flower of some kind.

Someone shouted from across the room, accompanied with approaching stomps that made the ground shiver in the particular way that Alfred had seen with most earthbenders.

Zuko grimaced beneath his hat and gripped his dao. Apparently whoever he'd been staring at was exactly the problem Zuko expected him to be. Alfred blinked as the two strangers came into view, wondering when Asian Sylvester Stallone had teamed up with Dollar Store Confucius.

The other old man from the Pai Sho table jumped up out of his seat. He started yelling loud enough for the whole place to hear, complete with accusatory jabs aimed at the three of them. Alfred tensed up and began to reach for his hammer. "What is he saying?" he muttered through clenched teeth.

"Just watch," Iroh said just as quietly, his expression slowly breaking into a sly smile.

The elderly stranger turned his back on them to continue his ranting and pointing, now aimed at who Alfred figured were would-be assailants.

Whatever he said to them made the entire cantina do what would've been a peeerfect record-scratch freeze. All eyes on them. Swords scraped slowly against scabbards and chairs rubbed against the stone floor.

Dollar Store Confucius muttered something to his friend. Asian Sylvester Stallone smirked and cracked his neck. Alfred didn't need Common Language to know that he'd just challenged every single person in the room.

The place exploded into chaos, and the strange old man quietly led Zuko, Iroh, and Alfred out of the building.

Katara let them sleep as long as she could. Four hours, before starting to shake people awake again. They needed to use the rest of the cooler nighttime temperatures to make progress. Matthew's waterbending had put a whole new timeline on getting out of the desert.

Katara had no personal experience with starved waterbenders, but Matthew was visibly worse-off than the rest of them. They were tired and thirsty. Matthew's ill-temper quietly rivaled Aang's. His face and arms were burnt to a bright, angry red. Not only that, he was feverishly warm. Katara didn't know how she hadn't noticed it before.

Waterbenders drank more water than other people. They needed it to survive. Now Matthew kept refusing his rations for the rest of them. Katara might've been touched if his eyes weren't going glassy.

"Yesterday my mouth tasted like mud," Toph commented. "Today it just tastes like sand…I think I miss the mud."

Sokka was bent over with his head between his legs like he was nauseous. Then he broke out into a wide grin that…Katara didn't really know how to feel about. "How are you feeling Sokka?"

The Water Tribe teen didn't seem to hear her, instead fixating on Matthew. "Y'know, I get more earthbend-y vibes from you."

Matthew didn't answer for a while, still flat on his back as he stared up at the moon. When he did, his voice was listless. "Hélas...I have glaciers."

"Didja bring 'em with you?"

"I, ah…S-ssspirituelle…ement?"

"That's not very useful, Mattypat."

"Shut up, Alfred."

Delirium was a language of its own. Katara shook her head and went to rouse Aang.

He was curled up away from the rest of them. Katara knelt down.

"I'm awake. I couldn't sleep."

The waterbender's hand recoiled at his tone. Raw and flat. "Well, we need to get moving if we're all going to make it out of here alive—"

Aang shot up without warning. "Appa!" He pointed to a black shape floating across the bright moon.

"Yue doesn't need Appa," Sokka felt the need to remind them all. "She's the moon, she can float all by herself~"

For a half-moment, Katara was right there with him. They were gonna get out of here. Except when she squinted…

Matthew was the one to point it out. "That's a cloud."

The airbender looked so devastated and angry at that moment. Katara wished it hadn't happened. He didn't need to be reminded like that…

"Clouds are water." Matthew sat up. "Aang should fly and get it."

Wait, that was a good idea. Katara held her waterskin out to the airbender. "Aang, please…"

It was the closest thing to a sneer that Katara had ever seen on Aang, and she hoped to never see it again. He snatched it out of her hand and took off without so much as a nod. A few passes through the sky was all it took.

Katara fumbled to catch the skin before it could hit the ground, not expecting the toss. She peered inside and sighed. "There's barely any in here."

That's when Aang exploded. "I'm sorry, okay?! It's a desert cloud, I did all I could! What's anyone else doing? What are you doing?"

Katara flinched as he brought his staff to bear, not expecting to have Matthew appear from seemingly nowhere to catch it in one hand before it could even be pointed at her.

"Don't hit your friends," Matthew said firmly.

Aang jerked to free it, but the staff didn't move from the blond's grip. "Hey! You–I'm not–! I wasn't hitting anyone! I'd never!"

Matthew shrugged. "Then it was too close." The staff remained in his hand. "You're young. You're upset. I understand." Matthew's expression was passive yet unyielding as an ice shelf in midwinter as he continued, "You're also powerful. You have responsibilities. Biggest ones right now: don't be mean to your friends. Survive together."

He released his hold on Aang's staff. The airbender brought it close to his chest. Then Matthew sagged and sank to his knees. Katara immediately knelt and pushed the waterskin to his face. "Drink this."

"No. You drink."

"Drink, Matthew, or you'll die!"

"I cannot die!"

The delirium must've been coming back around. Katara gritted her teeth. "If you don't drink this water right now, I'll bend it in through your nose."

This threat gave Matthew pause. "You wouldn't."

Katara shook the waterskin for emphasis, giving the same narrow-eyed look she'd perfected as a preteen dealing with stubborn toddlers back home while the older women were out gathering.

Matthew didn't last long beneath it. He took the waterskin. "...One drink."

"Ouch!"

Katara craned her neck to see that Toph had wandered away from the group at some point. Halfway up the next dune Toph was clutching one of her feet. "I'm so sick of not being able to feel where I'm going! Who leaves a freaking boat in the desert, anyways?!"

The rest of the group meandered over to the wood object sticking out of the ground next to her. Katara knelt down and started digging around the thing. "A boat?"

"Boat-shaped, at least."

Aang swung his staff in a wide arc, blowing all the sand away from it. The air cleared to reveal a wooden vehicle with skis and a yellowed canvas sail.

"It's a sand sailer!" Katara clambered up to its highest point. She definitely wasn't an expert, but it looked to be in complete working order, despite being abandoned for whatever reason. "Aang, you can bend air into the sail, and we can follow this compass out of here–we're going to make it!"

The others scrambled onto deck. Aang positioned himself behind the sail, Toph propped herself against the raised platform of the upper deck next to Matthew, and Sokka sat precariously on the back edge. Aang immediately began propelling them hard across the landscape, his face a determined grimace. Fearful as she still was (none of them were in good condition right now), Katara felt newly exhilarated as the dry wind began to whip past her face. They were going to make it.

Alfred looked a little disoriented as he and Zuko waited for Iroh to come out of the secret room in the back of the flower shop. "A series of things just happened that I did not understand."

Zuko leaned against a table cluttered with dusty flowerpots. "Uncle's in a weird flower-themed secret society and we're not."

"Your excessively blunt explanation didn't help this time." Alfred sighed. "Humans make things so complicated."

"You say that as if you aren't one."

Alfred snorted by way of answer, fiddling with the bottom of his jacket. Zuko folded his arms and glanced at the door again, wondering for the umpteenth time what was going on.

Ten minutes later, the man who had introduced himself as 'Fung' reemerged with Iroh right behind him.

Zuko looked at his uncle expectantly, switching back to Common Language. "Well?"

"Everything's been taken care of," Iroh informed him with a self-satisfied smile. "We are going to Ba Sing Se."

Zuko frowned and demanded, "Why would we go to the Earth Kingdom capital when we're trying to lay low?"

"The city is filled with refugees," Fung explained patiently. "No one will notice three more."

"We can hide in plain sight." Iroh's gold eyes twinkled with mirth for the irony of it all. "And it's the safest place in the world from the Fire Nation."

Zuko nearly gave himself a heart attack as the outer door opened unexpectedly. A young, plain looking teenager came inside. "I have the papers for our guests, but someone is looking for them outside."

Iroh walked up to the door and peeked through the small opening. "It's those bounty hunters again," he said conversationally. As if he was simply commenting on the weather.

Alfred seemed to sense the sudden tension in the air. He looked to Zuko for translation. These strangers seemed to know a bit too much already, so Zuko went ahead and told him, "We're going to Ba Sing Se, but those two guys from the cantina are outside looking for us."

"I can just—"

"No fighting," Zuko flatly denied. "Not until you can control yourself. We have to keep a low profile."

Alfred subsided with a disappointed grumble, falling silent once more.

For his part, Fung only looked mildly interested in their brief conversation that must've been complete gibberish to him, but did not comment on it. Instead he simply said, "We should hurry out back if you are to get out of here unseen."

Zuko was privately disappointed that this back door was not through the secret room, but instead behind a massive fern in another corner of the building. The young man went out to make sure the area was clear before waving them over to…a cart of large flower pots?

Iroh must've not known this part of the plan, as took a significant amount of sucking in and audience participation to fit him inside of the largest one. For once Zuko was glad to be smaller than the average man. Alfred was at least a head taller than most people, and only half as flexible.

It smelled like fertilizer inside the pot. They could've at least washed them out first.

Zuko felt the cart come to a stop. The plain assistant helped them out of their hiding places (which in Iroh's case involved breaking the pot) and told them, "We've arranged for your transport across the desert with a non-hostile group of sandbenders. Be careful not to insult them; they've been known to leave people in sand dunes."

"Isn't that the opposite of non-hostile?"

"Not if you're nice," the assistant returned placidly, apparently immune to Zuko's inherently acrid commentary. He perked up to the sound of rushing wind and flapping canvas. "That's your ride. Good luck." He tugged the cart's handle back towards town and departed, presumably back towards the flower shop.

A wooden contraption that looked built for speed climbed over the opposite sand dune. Two sandbenders covered head-to-toe in tan wraps jumped off and approached the trio.

"Alfred, behave," Zuko warned.

"Been behaving just fine, thank you very much," Alfred riposted through his usual bright smile.

"What my nephew means to say, is not to speak," Iroh clarified quickly. "A different language may not go over well with these folk."

Alfred rolled his eyes. Zuko marveled at how that smile didn't move at all, as though it was cut from stone. Or steel. "Mute it is." He went silent right as the sandbenders got within earshot. Zuko sent up a silent prayer to Agni that these sandbenders wouldn't find some reason to strand them in the desert.

"I don't think this thing is pointing north," Katara called out to the rest of them. She tapped at the compass, whose needle remained true to a direction that didn't seem to match the fading stars. She wondered if this was the defect. Would sandbenders abandon an entire sand-sailer like this over one malfunctioning instrument rather than repairing it?

"I'm sure the sandbenders knew where they were going," Sokka reassured dismissively. He blinked and looked down at his hands. "I think my head is starting to clear up."

"Oh, good," Toph said. "Because I think it's Matthew's turn to spout loopy nonsense."

Matthew's head rolled aside to look at the young earthbender. "What is…'loopy'?"

"Loopy was…Sokka, a few minutes ago," Toph explained. "And you right now, with the weird humming."

"It's a lullaby for children," Matthew felt the need to explain. He gestured vaguely to the sky. "I still feel them. It is too early."

Sokka stared at the blond concernedly. "I wasn't that bad, was I?"

"You were worse," Katara informed him tersely. "You argued with an imaginary pink clam for thirty minutes and the clam won." She glanced over the railing to see Matthew's distant, nearly vacant expression. He kept switching between languages and rambling about people with strange names that weren't there. "Matthew, I think you should drink more water."

"Water for humans."

"Water for waterbenders," Katara shot right back. "Through the nose, Matthew. Don't think I won't."

At least now they knew that Wan Shi Tong was onto something. Delirium was making the usually reticent man surprisingly open about what he was…except she really couldn't tell what was real or delusion…Katara rather doubted that 'my brother is hogging all the desert' was an actual clue.

A massive black shape was slowly coming into view over the horizon. The compass needle was pointed squarely at its middle. "The compass is pointing to that huge rock up ahead!" she announced loudly for Aang's benefit. "I think it's some kind of magnetic center for the desert!"

Toph leaned forward excitedly. "A rock? Yes, let's go!"

"Maybe we'll find water!" Sokka exclaimed.

"Maybe we'll find sandbenders," Aang muttered darkly.

Katara was conflicted. According to Toph, it was sandbenders that had stolen Appa. But they couldn't know which ones, and these were probably the people that could point them to the actual way out of here...and she hated seeing Aang like this. He'd hardly spoken to them since Matthew's scolding, but it clearly hadn't made him any less angry.

Sokka squinted out into the distance behind them. "Uh, guys? Am I still hallucinating, or are those more sand-sailers behind us?"

Aang let the vessel stop at the base of the giant rock, immediately jumping off to face the sandbenders that were beginning to surround them. The rest of the group followed his lead.

A well-built man with an uncovered face stepped forward. Katara wasn't sure if it was the eyes, or the man's air of leadership, but something about him painfully reminded her of her dad. She glanced aside to her brother, but couldn't tell if Sokka saw it too.

"Who are you?" the man demanded. "Why do you have a stolen sailer from the Hunni Tribe?"

"We didn't steal it," Katara explained. "It was abandoned in the desert."

Aang twitched at the mention of theft. Katara continued quickly. "Our bison was stolen—we really had no other option."

Another one, younger and smaller, stepped forward angrily. "You dare accuse our people of stealing—?"

"No one has accused us of stealing." The leader eyed the teen sternly, making the younger man fold his arms and glance away. "I expect better behavior from my son, do you understand?"

"Yes…Father."

Toph's unseeing eyes widened slightly. "I recognize that voice. That's the one who stole Appa."

"Are you sure?" Sokka asked quietly.

Toph nodded firmly. "I never forget a voice."

Aang immediately marched forward and pointed his staff straight at the teen. "You stole Appa." His voice was rough with emotion. "Where is he? What did you do to him?!"

"You're crazy!" the son stammered. He looked up at his father. "These are obviously thieves—!"

There was a violent gust of wind and a loud crash of splintering wood. Aang had destroyed a sand-sailer. He faced the now frightened sandbenders again.

"Where. Is. My. Bison?"

Sokka started gently pulling Toph back, waving for Matthew to do the same. They hadn't seen Aang get like this before. They wouldn't realize what Aang…might do.

The airbender destroyed another sand-sailer, emphasizing his dwindling patience. The leader stepped back and glared at his son. "What did you do?"

"I've done nothing wrong! Don't listen to these–"

Toph cut him off with an accusatory finger. "You said to put a muzzle on him!"

And with that, Aang was gone. His eyes and tattoos began to glow. "Do you think I'm playing?!" The wind picked up sharply. A broad sweep of his staff destroyed three more sand-sailers with a violent gale.

Matthew scrambled frantically backwards. Who knew what he was seeing, as sick as he was. This was his first time witnessing the Avatar State.

The son dropped to his knees, his arms held protectively over his head. "Alright, I took your bison! I didn't know it belonged to the Avatar!"

"Tell me where Appa is!"

"I-I traded him! He's…probably in Ba Sing Se by now."

Aang's eyes became glowing slits. The wind threatened to throw everybody off of their feet and smash them into the wall. He began to rise into the air.

Sokka yanked Toph and Matthew further out of the line of fire and started yelling for people to run. Katara didn't. She ran forward, ignoring the wind, and the sand that stung her eyes and cut her skin. The only thing that mattered was getting her friend back.

She managed to grab Aang's wrist before he was too high, immediately turning all of that angry, powerful attention on herself. She ignored it, pulling him down into a crushing hug. He didn't fight it. The tension bled out of his form and he collapsed tiredly into hers. The wind died down, and the dust began to settle. The tears on Katara's forearm burned worse than the sand.

"I'm so sorry, Katara," Aang hiccuped.

"You don't have to apologize," the waterbender murmured softly. "We're going to get Appa back. I promise."

Eeeey, a longer update! No hospital beds involved!

My (very surface-level) research indicates that the word mango is a loanword from Tamil that was butchered by the Portuguese. The fruit originated in India and gradually spread through China. So I stuck the word mango in my version of the ATLA world, where linguistics are similar but not the same. Because I have magical author powers.

Validation and Dr. Pepper are the things that keep me going, so please leave a review if you've got the time! I appreciate you all, though. Silent observers included.

Later dudes. ^J^