This is my first Avatar story, so please be nice.
The main focus of this story was to satisfy some of the detail lapses in Chapter 18: The Waterbending Master when the ship Zuko had been on blew up. I was oddly touched by the display of raw concern Iroh had over his nephew's life, and the general sorrow he displayed at the thought of Zuko having died. However there were gaps that were unsatisfying. I wanted to see that situation drawn out more, but it never happened. So to make up for my own dissatisfaction, and hopefully that of other fans, I wrote this.
I'm a late bloomer into the fandom but I'm certainly captivated by Uncle Iroh and Prince Zuko. They are by far my favorite characters. I relate well to Zuko, and I wish I had an uncle as cool as Iroh. Wishful thinking, especially in terms of my family. Regardless, here is the story. Please review! They keep me going!
Love, Ela!
"Winter, spring, summer and fall..." the lyrics repeated on and on in Iroh's head as he left the dark and brooding atmosphere of his ship. Oh, how he loved that song! It reminded him of the days when he was still a child. performers would belt out their high, eerie voices to the skies in the plays that were once performed at the castle. Iroh would watch them when he was young and become entranced in the simple magic of the presentations. Unfortunately, those distant days were far gone now. At least every now and then he still had a quiet moment to reminisce; to think alone.
Sighing, Iroh continued on with his walk while the notes still drifted slowly through his head. He had hoped that Zuko, his nephew, would accompany him this night. It truly was a wonderful evening. The weather was gentle enough to let a man walk in peace and become consumed in his thoughts. Zuko needed that Iroh had thought. After all that he had experienced today, Zuko needed time to think. Time to rest.
Another sigh escaped the elderly man's lips, but the burdening thoughts of his nephew soon dissipated as Iroh lost himself in the beauty of the nighttime sky. The stars glistened like jewels embedded in a river of black. The sight was calming. It reassured the wizened man that there was peace out there, and beauty for those who cared to look for it.
If only Zuko would open himself more. Perhaps then the young man would finally find some peace in the life he currently lead.
"Peace..." Iroh thought with an inward sigh. How could one so young, who had suffered so much, endured so much, find peace? Exiled from his homeland for the sake of his father's own pride, and then sentenced to scour the globe for a man who had been missing for over one hundred years? What peace could be found? For the first time, Iroh was not completely sure, but he always had hopes that his beloved nephew would one day find it, in some form or another.
Iroh resumed his walk after pausing a few minutes to contemplate under the stars. He allowed his mind instead to drift toward happier thoughts. His mind was weighed down enough, and Iroh knew that no relief would come from dwelling on already sour thoughts. He instead obliged himself to soaking in the sounds of the night, hoping that in satisfying the senses he would in turn soothe his soul.
While walking he took in the sound of the wind blowing through the mountains and down the peer. He listened as the feint sound of waves lapped up on the distant shore, and the sound of his own grinding footsteps against the trail beneath him. His body began to find calm, his mind began to know peace when suddenly an angry and rapid explosion rocked the docks behind him. More confused than anything else at that moment, Iroh turned to see to his utmost horror that his ship was on fire. The ship was burning! And Zuko was still inside!
"Zuko!" he cried in alarm. With a swiftness that would have surprised even himself had he thought on it, Iroh rushed back toward the ship, uncertain of what he might find.
Zuko jumped at the sound of the first explosion. He felt fear, he willingly admitted that now. He was scared and alone, and suddenly he began to realize that he was very likely going to die here. The lower bowels of the ship had gone aflame, and there was now no escape for the exiled prince.
He turned and saw a small shaft in the floor begin to glow with a furious yellow-orange light. The flames were spiraling upward! They would reach the upper cabin in seconds and there was no where Zuko could flee to escape from it.
The flames discharged from the shaft in seconds surrounding the room and engulfing Zuko in a flash. He afforded himself one cry of terror that he hoped no one had heard. Instincts and reflexes caused him to raise his hands to his already scarred face and with what strength and knowledge he possessed within him did all he could to divert the flames that were already carrying him out of the ship.
The last thing Zuko knew was that it was very dark, he was very cold, and he could not breathe.
Iroh reached the edge of the dock as the last remaining portions of the ship blew apart. Whatever hope he had had, the elderly man now found himself robbed of it. There was no way his nephew was still alive. Not even a master could have survived such a blast. Firebenders could control fire, but only when they have the time and energy to concentrate. With such a powerful blast, Zuko would not have been able to save himself.
"Zuko..." Iroh cast his gaze to the ground. His heart filled with sorrow and regret, but a small part of him gave way to a much more foreign feeling: rage. He knew who was responsible for this. There was no one else who considered Zuko a threat, a burden, a menace. No one else would benefit from this, save one man: Admiral Zhou.
In a very uncharacteristic maneuver, Iroh grit his teeth. With his eyes still closed, he envisioned Zhou before him, consumed in writhing flames that Iroh himself had given birth to with his own hands. He saw the skin crack and peel, revealing tissue, revealing bone that soon charred to black. He heard the howling screams of a tormented death echo from Zhou's crisping lips as widened eyes smoldered in their sockets. Iroh focused on that image, allowed himself to be consumed by it as the ship in front of him was consumed, and then something happened. He saw the face change. The countenance that was now flickering before Iroh was not of an aged and evil navy admiral. It was of a young prince who's life had been cut short. A face scarred by his father's pride and eyes that reflected a strong but broken heart and soul. It was the face of his nephew.
Catching his breath, Iroh forced himself to reopen his eyes. The ship still smoldered in the pier. Large pieces of metal littered the ocean and the beach beneath the wooden planks which made up the docks. Many of these pieces still burned through the harbor. So much destruction, and yet it seemed appropriate for Iroh's heart was in a similar state.
Zuko barely had the strength to reach the sandlots that existed underneath the pier, but he forced himself to use what was left of his strength. He had no choice. His pride would not allow him to be taken so easily by the likes of Zhou.
Zuko grit his teeth. That man had tried to kill him! He'd taken his crew, and had even tried to win over the loyalty of his uncle! Now he aimed at taking his life! Furious, Zuko gripped all the harder as he pulled his bruised and battered body out of the water and onto the beach. Coughing and sputtering he allowed himself to collapse after a few moments of more than exceptional effort. He had ensured his survival this far. For now he could rest.
He collapsed against the sand, coughed once more to release some of the water in his lungs, and closed his eyes with nothing but the ringing in his ears to ease his tensed muscles and fractured thoughts.
Iroh didn't know how he heard it over the roaring flames on the ship, or even over the roaring emotions of his heart and mind. But somehow, the sound of a pained cough made it's way to his ears. Iroh looked around, fearful that perhaps someone had discovered his presence on the dock. Perhaps the thugs who had taken Zuko's life had returned to finish him off as well? He crunched his teeth together tightly in his mouth, and with the most enraged countenance he knew he was capable of Iroh turned and prepared himself to face the men who had done this.
But there was no one there, and Iroh felt not only severely alone again, but foolish. The old man sighed, but again he heard the sound. Carefully he peered around the dock, and the walked back to the edge of the pier. There was still no evidence of anything or anyone. Confused, he cast his gaze down in hopes that he might concentrate better if he did not have so much distracting his eyes, when suddenly he saw the strangest thing. An odd shape was laid out over the sand just a few feet below where he stood. A trail in the sand had been carved out in a strange fashion, giving the impression that this thing had crawled up out of the water and died here on the beach.
He continued to stare at it, his mind numbed by the sudden chill of the night wind and the shock of all that had happened. All of a sudden, the shape moved. It was a slight motion, but intelligible. This was a person! A person who appeared to have been whipped violently into the water when near the ship. Near the ship...or on it!
"ZUKO!" Iroh cried out against the roaring fire. There was no response from the body, and Iroh began to fear that perhaps his nephew had swam all the way from the ocean to the shore only to die here on the beach from some fatal wound. "Zuko!"
Iroh leapt down the dock and nearly flew from the top to the bottom stair that lead out onto a small portion of the beach underneath the pier. From the combined firelight and moonlight the man could tell that it was definitely his nephew. The left side of the boy's face which was scarred lay buried deep in the sand. His other eye was swollen shut from being blackened, and his mouth hung slightly agape. Scratches and various bruises plagued his face, and his skin seemed whiter than the moon bathed sand upon which he lay.
Iroh's heart beat violently in his chest as he ran toward the still figure. He could only pray that his nephew was still alive.
He could hear a set of swiftly approaching feet, but who's they were Zuko was not sure. He could have swore he perceived someone calling his name earlier, but the young prince had neither the strength of body nor heart to answer up to whoever it might have been. For all he knew it was Death calling him into a bliss filled eternity away from admirals and avatars and all the stresses of being an exiled prince.
Zuko sighed. Perhaps he should have given in to death.
"But what of Uncle?" the young man thought suddenly.
The answer didn't come to him directly. He wasn't even certain why he had thought the question to begin with. Surely Iroh would have been better off without the young prince to baby-sit? All Zuko did was give the old man trouble anyway. Surely if Zuko had gone...
The thought was jolted from his mind, as was a great deal of air from his lungs as two hands pushed with the force of what felt like a thousand men on his back. Much to his own numbed surprise he even managed to cough up some more water.
"Zuko? ZUKO!"
Had his eye not been swollen, and the other not buried in sand, Zuko would have opened his eyes but since they would not obey his commands he merely lay there as pain blossomed anew throughout his broken body. "Zuko!" the cry came again. This time it sounded cracked, despaired...through the ringing in his ears Zuko could hear all of this and more.
Spitting out more water, Zuko coughed. "Uncle?"
His voice was weaker than he had expected, but Iroh had heard him.
"You're alive?" the old man sounded both astounded and relieved. His hands gripped Zuko's shoulders and shakily rolled the young man over on his back.
"Barely." The prince coughed again. He opened his only good eye at the moment and found the concerned and ashen face of his uncle staring back down at him. "When did you get back?"
"When I heard the first explosion," he answered honestly. He still could not hide the quaking in his voice, nor the tremors of his own hands as he closely inspected his nephew's wounds. "I came as quickly as I could. Are you hurt badly?"
"It's a good thing you weren't on the ship," said Zuko with a panged sigh. It had slipped out, really, but it was the truth. Iroh's face contorted oddly, but he seemed touched by his nephew's sentiments, a contrast from his otherwise stoic, if not hostile, demeanor.
"Are you hurt badly?" Iroh repeated himself, not wanting to relay his true thoughts to Zuko. Had they both been on the ship chances were one of them would have died, if not both. It wasn't something Iroh wanted to consider now. He'd already almost lost something dear to him. He had to focus on helping that person now.
Zuko breathed a sign and tried to find if there was any severe amount of pain that seemed dire.
"I don't think so," he stated. Iroh breathed a sigh of relief before returning to inspect the wounds on his face. "I said I'm fine!" Zuko argued, already regaining enough of his energy to fight back his uncle's doting behavior.
Iroh, on the other hand, had regained enough of his raw nerve to argue back.
"Stop fidgeting or I'm going to hurt you."
"Well if you'd stop touching me I'd stop-OW!"
Iroh held back a grin. "There. You see?"
It was out of pure respect (and appreciation) that Zuko did not tell his uncle to shut up.
"These cuts don't look serious, but we should do something with them so that they don't get infected." Iroh leaned back on his feet and sighed as Zuko pulled himself up into a sitting position. He winced a few times but hid the full extent of his pain. It was evident that his uncle was worried enough about him as it was.
"Did you see who did this?" asked Iroh with a sudden frown.
"No," Zuko admitted. "But I'm pretty sure I know who's behind it."
"Zhou."
Zuko's face went slightly slack and turned to look at his uncle. There was no doubt in what Iroh had said however, for there was a rage in his uncle's eyes that Zuko did not even know existed within his uncle. It made him slightly uneasy, but also touched him.
"Yes." He paused to take a breath and clear his mind.
"No doubt they'll think their attempt on your life was successful," said Iroh. "You won't be able to board the ship."
"I'll have to," Zuko whispered. "The avatar is at the north pole. If I-"
"If you board the ship you will die!" Iroh hissed at him.
"And what would you purpose I do, uncle!"
Iroh lowered his face to the sand and thought. He contemplated what they might do for many moments. When a solution finally did come to him though, he cast his gaze even deeper toward the ground, for he did not like what it was they had to do.
"You'll have to sneak on. I'll except Zhou's offer and work as his general. Meanwhile you can disguise yourself as a lower officer."
"That's too risky. If they find you're stowing me away they'll kill us both."
"You're not doing this alone," Iroh argued.
"Oh, and when did you make this decision for me?" Zuko shot his uncle a withering glare.
"When Zhou tried to take your life."
"My life! Why are you taking this so personally? It's not your battle!"
"It's as much yours as it is mine!"
Zuko narrowed his eye. "Is it? And why is that?"
"Because you are my nephew!" Iroh shouted. "And no nephew of mine is walking alone into danger!"
Zuko made a move to argue, but his shoulders sagged and he no longer had the strength to do so. He cast his gaze to the ground and sighed.
"So what do we do until then?"
A hand nestled gently on his shoulder. Zuko looked up into the now familiar and kindly eyes of his uncle and, for the first time in a long while, found some semblance of comfort.
"You rest," said Iroh quietly. "I will watch over your sleep."
Nodding his head, Zuko fell down upon his back and watched the sky move between the planks of the pier overhead. After some time he finally fell asleep.
Iroh gazed out over the ocean. The sun began to rise and with it his ambitions. Soon they would embark upon their new plan. They would bring Zhou down from power, and Zuko would be able to present the avatar to the Fire lord and regain his rightful place among his people.
That was the way of things it seemed.
"Winter, spring, summer and fall..." he sang as the sun blossomed from the now steady ocean. "Four seasons...for love. Four seasons...for love."