Water

The Wake of Storms

The sea wasn't really calm again until morning. Though the weather did quiet enough for several of the men to rotate off duty for the night, Zuko wasn't so lucky. There were too many things to attend to in the wake of the storm. There was a leak in the galley, one in the sickbay, another by the crew's quarters, none of them large, but all too significant to fully repair without going to land. They were all patched and plugged as well as possible with the supplies they had on board, the water bailed out, and the soaked provisions all drying on the deck, but Zuko didn't dare take the ship above half speed until the leaks were fixed properly. He couldn't risk another leak, or the chance that one of the old ones would spring open again. Which was probably a good thing, considering how much fuel they'd burned through during the storm. If they tried to go any faster, they could very well run out before they reached land.

If they traveled slowly, it shouldn't be a problem. The storm had blown them closer to land, barely two days' journey from Pohuai. They could last for two days. They could last for much longer, so long as they kept the ship to this agonizing, crawling pace. And Pohuai was more than equipped for all the repairs they needed.

But Zuko really didn't want to go to Pohuai. Not with Zhao stationed there. He didn't care how convenient a stop it would be. He wouldn't put it past Zhao to personally check every ship that came to port, and Zhao was the very last person Zuko wanted to see. And more importantly, he didn't want Zhao anywhere near the Avatar. Either Avatar. If Zuko landed at Pohuai, the monk would inevitably follow, and then—he shuddered.

That wasn't going to happen. There had to be another place where he could refuel and repair his ship without seeing Zhao and jeopardizing his mission further. He just had to find it.

Stifling a yawn, he rubbed his forehead. He really should pull out his charts now and work out their exact destination, but he'd been working so long without rest that it seemed entirely possible that he would nod off if he dared to sit down. With or without a map.

As if on cue, Uncle appeared beside him, a teacup in each hand, and offered one to Zuko. For a moment, Zuko frowned. He didn't want any tea, and a part of him wanted to remind Uncle that there were lots of problems that tea couldn't solve. But this, for once, might be a problem that tea could help with. If he were lucky, the tea might at least make him stop yawning. Grudgingly, he accepted.

For a while, Uncle seemed content to sip his tea in silence, staring out over the deck. Aside from the great, slimy sucker marks left behind by the eel squid that wouldn't seem to go away no matter how hard the men scrubbed, the deck was barely damaged. It was the rest of the ship that was the real problem.

Zuko took a long drink of his tea. He still couldn't see why Uncle made such a big deal over the stuff, but the warmth was refreshing, and if it helped him stay awake, he might be willing to reconsider his opinion on the matter. Just maybe.

"I understand that we took quite a lot of damage," Uncle commented evenly.

Zuko winced. He should have known that was coming. You should not have taken us through that storm, Prince Zuko. Think of the lives that could have been lost, Prince Zuko. Well, he had thought about it. Plenty of times. Why else did Uncle think he'd been working all night?

"All the leaks are patched up and we're going to shore for repairs," Zuko said defensively before Uncle could continue. "I just haven't had time to look at the charts yet."

One of Uncle's eyebrows raised slightly, but his expression betrayed nothing else. "I am pleased to hear it." He took a sip of his tea and lapsed back into silence.

Zuko tried not to squirm. Why did Uncle always have to do this? Did he enjoy watching Zuko grow more and more uneasy until he had no choice but to burst out with what Uncle wanted him to say?

Probably. Uncle was always fond of letting Zuko stumble into 'very important lessons' on his own.

"I get it, okay? I shouldn't have pushed us through that storm. But I didn't know it was going to get that bad." He snuck a quick sideways glance at Uncle. "I'm sorry."

Uncle took a long, slow sip of his tea, still staring out over the deck. "You have worked exceptionally hard to ensure the survival of the ship and the crew," he said eventually. "It takes a man of great honor to take such responsibility for his own mistakes. Your apology is accepted."

A small weight lifted from Zuko's shoulders. Even the tea tasted a little better when he took another drink.

"You should rest, Prince Zuko. The crew can manage a while on their own."

They'd better be able to. Each and every one of them was a more experienced sailor than Zuko. Many of them were idiots too, but they ought to be able to keep the ship afloat now that the weather was calm again.

He shot a sideways glance at Uncle. That seemed too easy. Where were the proverbs and the thinly veiled suggestions for what Zuko might do next? "What, you're not going to tell me to go talk to the waterbender again?"

Uncle gave a sour face. "You must speak to the waterbender, Prince Zuko. But perhaps not when you have had no sleep." Another meaningful look shot Zuko's way. "I dread to think of how such a conversation would end."

Zuko couldn't exactly argue that point. He could barely talk to the girl when he wasn't fuzzy headed and yawning. He wasn't good at conversation at the best of times, and the girl—she took more effort than most.

"It couldn't go much worse than last time."

Uncle gave him a stony look. "Rest first, Prince Zuko. You will do yourself no favors by visiting when you cannot think clearly."

Probably not, but now Zuko had to wonder. What if it did go better? What if the problem with talking to the waterbender was that he was too clear-headed? Maybe if he were a little out of sorts it would push his conversation skills so far past their usual disastrous state that they actually improved.

He shook the idea out of his head. He wasn't tired enough to try anything that stupid. Not yet, at least. Maybe someday soon. If things kept blowing up in his face, he might have no other choice than to do something stupid and desperate. It wouldn't be his first time.

"I'm not going to, Uncle." Zuko rubbed his forehead. "I just need to figure out where we're going before I can sleep."

"Ah. I understand that we are very close to Pohuai."

Zuko grimaced. "Not there."

Uncle let silence hang for a few long moments. "Then I suppose you will need some time to review the charts." He patted Zuko's shoulder. "I wish you luck."

He didn't sound optimistic. Zuko scowled. There had to be another harbor close by. Pohuai simply wasn't an option.

"And Prince Zuko," Uncle added over his shoulder. "If I might make a suggestion for the next time you visit the waterbender—"

"Would you listen if I told you not to?"

Uncle smiled and shook his head. "Perhaps it would be wise to learn her name."

Zuko frowned. He was fairly certain he'd already heard it. She and her friends had yelled back and forth enough times in their early encounters that he must have heard it at least once, but he was too tired to remember right now. Not that it mattered. He was doing just fine without her name. It had been days since he last slipped up and tried to call her the Avatar.

"Why?" He hadn't called her anything wrong, he knew that much.

"She seems more receptive to conversation when she is at ease."

Zuko already knew that. It was one of the reasons why he'd spent so much time and effort getting her a new change of clothes. He couldn't fathom what good it would do to use her name, though. The girl called Zuko by his name, and it was painfully jarring every single time. Surely that kind of familiarity couldn't help.

"Do you know her name, Uncle?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

Zuko waited another minute until it became clear that Uncle wasn't going to elaborate any further. "You're not going to tell me her name, are you?"

Uncle only smiled. "Some information is like spring water. Better when obtained from its source."

Zuko scowled. He should have expected as much.

"Sleep well, Prince Zuko." Uncle gave a slight bow with his teacup cradled between both hands. "You've done excellent work since the storm."


Much to Aang's relief, Sokka was happy to be rescued from the storm. Which made sense. It was a really bad storm, and it only got worse the farther Aang flew, but still. He'd half expected Sokka to be annoyed with him for leaving camp.

The fisherman Sokka was working with had been very appreciative too. He tried to give Aang a whole big basket of fish as thanks, and Aang did his best to decline politely. What was he going to do with fish anyway?

He didn't realize that the fisherman was trying to use the fish to avoid paying Sokka for his work until Sokka said so. That was a shame. The fisherman seemed nice enough otherwise.

But they did eventually get their money and headed back for camp before nightfall. It could have been much worse, Aang thought. Sokka was safe, and they had money for supplies—and once they got back to camp, they found Sokka's tent collapsed under the force of all the wind and the rain. And most of their supplies soaked. And slimy mud caked on almost every surface. But that wasn't so bad either. It didn't take very long to pack everything up, and Appa was more than happy to fly them off in search of sturdier shelter. And within a few short hours, they found a place too—an abandoned building of some kind tucked under an enormous stone ledge. If that couldn't keep out the wind and rain, then nothing could.

Everything seemed to be going so well. But then Sokka started coughing sometime in the night, and once he'd started, he just wouldn't stop. He insisted that he was okay, but by the time it was light enough for Aang to see, Sokka looked bad. Really bad. He was all flushed and sweaty and he kept shivering, even in his big heavy sleeping bag, and the cough still wouldn't stop.

Aang didn't have the first idea of what to do about any of that. He'd hardly ever been sick when he was younger, and he'd never spent much time in the infirmary building at the Southern Air Temple either. That was grown up stuff. And now, he was the only person who could take care of Sokka.

He missed Katara even more than usual. Aang had a feeling that she would have known what to do about this.

In any case, he couldn't just wait while Sokka got sicker. He had to find some way to fix this.

Aang pulled his glider out of Appa's saddle, then crouched down by Sokka. "I'm going to go get some help for you, okay?"

Sokka grunted. "For what? I feel fine." Almost as soon as he'd finished the sentence, he screwed his face up and let out an enormous sneeze. A thread of snot trailed down to his chin, and he swiped at it with his sleeve. "Ugh. Stop sneezing on me."

Aang had no idea who Sokka thought he was talking to, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know either. Who would go out of their way to sneeze on someone else? Aang chose to ignore it. "Do you need anything before I go?"

Sokka sniffled and coughed a few times before he answered. "For the last time, I'm fine, Appa."

Well, that made the sneezing thing make a little more sense. Appa had been known to do that. But Sokka's fever must be really bad if he was getting Aang and Appa mixed up.

Aang pushed himself to his feet. "I'll be back in just a few hours. Promise."

"Mmpf. 'Kay, bye, love you." Sokka rolled onto his side and mashed his face into Appa's leg.

Uh—Aang didn't know how to react to that one either. But Sokka's eyes were closed now, so maybe Sokka would at least sleep while Aang was gone. That had to be good, right? Resting was supposed to be good for people who were sick.

As quietly as he could, Aang turned away and crept toward the exit.

"Aang!"

The shout came just as he was about the open his glider, and Aang whipped back around.

Sokka was sitting straight up, wide-eyed. "Watch out for the armadillo men." He blinked a few times, yawned, and flopped onto his back again. "They're all liars."

Aang stared back, bewildered, until the snoring started. On second thought, he'd better try to be back in less than a few hours. Otherwise, Sokka was definitely going to go crazy with all the hallucinating.


"Why so much fuss about capturing me and Aang anyway? Doesn't Zuko have something better to do with his time?"

"It is not a personal desire that drives Prince Zuko. He was ordered on this mission by his father."

"How long has he been looking? It sounds like an awful lot of work for something he doesn't have strong feelings about."

"Nearly three years. And although Prince Zuko has no personal desire to capture you or your friend, his feelings on fulfilling the Fire Lord's wishes are quite compelling."

"And why is what his father wants so much more important than what Zuko wants?"

"I believe you are stalling your turn, Miss Katara."

Katara looked up from the Pai Sho board. So what if she was? She was still new to the game. So what if it took her a little extra time to remember the difference between the tile with the flower and the one with the tree?

Frowning, she reached out between the bars and moved one of her tiles two spaces to the left. "There. I'm not stalling anymore."

"Ah. An interesting choice." The general leaned forward and rubbed his chin. "Very interesting indeed."

Katara narrowed her eyes. "Who's stalling now? You're just avoiding my questions, aren't you?"

The general looked up again, eyes twinkling. "You would be delighted to know how often that works."

Delighted wasn't exactly the word she would have chosen, but at least the general was honest about his intentions. Most firebenders probably wouldn't do that. Still, it didn't get her any closer to the answers she needed.

With a sigh, Katara leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Why are you avoiding my questions?"

"There are some conversations best left between the parties concerned."

"You mean me and Zuko?"

A nod.

Katara groaned and leaned back on her hands. She didn't want to talk to Zuko. And even if she did, she doubted that he'd say anything useful. Why would he? She'd never give him anything useful, and as much as she sometimes doubted his intelligence, he couldn't be stupid enough to spill information that she needed.

The general just smiled. "You may not care to hear it, Miss Katara, but I must stand by my previous statements. You and my nephew are far more alike than you realize."

He was right about that. She didn't want to hear how similar the general thought she and Zuko were.

The general made a thoughtful noise before moving one of his tiles with a decisive click and then went quiet again.

He was baiting her, Katara could feel it. Using silence to push her into speaking. Well, she wasn't going to fall for that trick. She didn't want to talk about the general's theories on what made her and Zuko so alike, and she would much rather remain in awkward silence for the rest of the day than indulge the topic.

She turned her attention down to the Pai Sho board and frowned in concentration. Maybe she could move that tile—no, the general had that one blocked in. What about the one that looked like a little cluster of leaves—no, she was fairly certain she couldn't move that one either, though she couldn't remember exactly why.

Katara let out a sigh of annoyance. This was why she'd been so keen to stall before. Aside from the chance that she could pry information out of the general, of course. She still didn't know Pai Sho well enough to play without taking considerable breaks between every turn to consider her next move, and the general's comfortable silence as he waited for her to act somehow made it harder to think and to remember the rules. She needed noise and distraction while she worked out her next move. And unfortunately, the general didn't seem likely to budge from his chosen topic.

She squirmed under the old man's watchful gaze a minute longer before her resolve finally failed. "Ugh, fine," she burst out. "Go ahead and tell me what you think Zuko and I have in common. Other than the fire thing. That's just ridiculous."

Just a hint of triumphant amusement crossed the general's face. "I'm afraid it was nothing so interesting this time. Merely an observation."

"Like what?" she asked, scowling.

"You and my nephew are both determined to learn any useful information the other may be in possession of. And—" He paused to give her a significant look, "—you are both equally determined to do so without speaking to one another. If a less effective means of communication exists, I have yet to see it."

She felt a slight sting at that, but she couldn't argue the point. The general was right. A little too right for her liking, but right all the same. Her only consolation was the knowledge that Zuko was equally guilty.

Katara tilted her chin upward and gave a small, haughty sniff. "Hmm. I guess that's less ridiculous than what I was expecting."

The general chuckled. "May I ask what exactly you expected?"

"I don't know. Last time it was how I had fire in my heart. I thought you were going to try to tell me that Zuko had water in his—" she trailed off, then waved a hand in the air. "His somewhere."

The general stroked his beard. "An astute observation."

Katara wrinkled her nose. "Eww."

The general raised his eyebrows, somehow conveying perplexity and disapproval at the same time. "Change, Miss Katara," he said. "Your element's defining trait is its capacity for adapting to and bringing about change. That is a trait that my nephew has always shared." There was a long pause, and the old man's expression grew a little distant, a little sad. "In the end, it was his heart for change that drove Prince Zuko from home."

She frowned. "What do you mean? Didn't you just say that the Fire Lord sent Zuko to look for me?"

"I did." Drawing a deep breath, the old man straightened, and the sorrow vanished from his face. "There is much more to the story, but that, I am afraid, is another topic best left to Prince Zuko."

"You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?"

The slight smile didn't escape her notice. "I haven't the slightest idea what you mean."

Right. Because the general would be wearing that smug little smile if he weren't deliberately baiting her into interesting topics only to backtrack at the last second so that she'd have to talk to Zuko. She wasn't stupid, and the general wasn't subtle. Pursing her lips, Katara moved one of her tiles forward. She could find a way around that.

"Did you leave the Fire Nation at the same time as Zuko?" Ha. It would be pointless to get her to talk to Zuko about that.

She did her best to contain her glee when the general took her lead.

"I did."

"And you've been traveling with him for three whole years?"

"Nearly three years," he corrected. "Yes I have."

"Why?"

"My nephew was very young. I could not leave him to travel alone."

"But why did it have to be you? There wasn't anyone else who could have done it?"

"There was not."

That sounded weird, especially for a prince. Weren't there supposed to be people falling over themselves to serve royalty? That was how it had seemed in Omashu.

No talking about Zuko, she reminded herself. At least not directly. The point was to avoid getting another hint about talking to Zuko.

"Isn't there anything in the Fire Nation you wanted to stay for?"

"No." The general's voice was even and sure.

"But that's your home! And you're a general. And what about the rest of the family?"

"I have been retired for years. The crew uses my old title out of habit alone. And as for the rest, I have very little family left. I think that you would agree that the people are of greater significance than the place."

Katara would agree with that. It annoyed her a little that he made it sound so simple.

"What do you mean you don't have much family left?" she asked. There was the Fire Lord at least, and spirits only knew how many other fancy, important relatives. Zuko had outweighed all of them?

"My brother and niece remain in the Fire Nation. They and Prince Zuko are my nearest living family."

"So you used to have more family?"

A nod. "A mother and father. A wife." The general paused and let his voice drop a bit lower. "A son." Sorrow passed over his face again, but it looked different than before. Deeper, yet softer. More engrained. "I could not save my son, but I hoped to do better for my nephew once we left our homeland."

Katara wasn't sure how to respond. Was she supposed to feel bad? Probably not. She shouldn't care that some Fire Nation boy—or man—had died. She didn't care much. But the general had been the one consistently kind presence on the ship since her arrival, and she couldn't help but feel a little sad for him, no matter who his son had been.

"I'm sorry about your son," she said eventually.

"Thank you. And I am sorry for your losses. I'm sure there have been plenty."

Katara nodded. The space where her necklace should have been ached a little, and her throat burned. She kept missing her chances to badger Zuko about her necklace, and it stung knowing that the last piece of her mother was so close and still out of reach.

"I have done many things in service to my nation for which I am not proud. I have often thought that the universe intended justice for me but settled for my son when it could not find its target." The general paused, looking downward. "But I am still here, and with the time I have left, I hope to make up for a little of the goodness that the world lost when he passed."

For a second, Katara remained silent, willing away the burning in her throat and her eyes. She remembered lying awake in the tent back home, staring at the empty space where her mother used to sleep. She remembered the promise that she made then—that she was going to be everything Mom ever wanted her to be and do all the things that Mom couldn't anymore.

She swallowed. "I don't know anything about your son, but I think he would like that."

"I like to believe he would as well." The general gave a small, kindly smile, and pushed the teapot closer to the bars before moving another of his tiles.

Katara filled up her teacup and pushed the burning back down with a few sips. After a minute staring at the Pai Sho board and composing herself, she slid a tile forward and snuck a look at the general.

"I guess I have your son to thank for you trying to be nice to me."

The general shook his head. "Credit must still go to my nephew. Everything I have done has been at his request." He paused just for a moment. "And of course your lovely personality makes it worthwhile too."

He sounded sincere enough. But Katara still didn't believe it. Maybe Zuko hadn't stopped the general from being kind to her, but she couldn't imagine him asking the general to eat all his meals with her, or to teach her board games, or—anything.

But Zuko had bought her a change of clothes. Comfortable ones too, even if they were oversized and plain. And Katara knew for a fact that the general hadn't been there to make suggestions or give advice when Zuko bought them. She frowned. He'd brought her soap and a comb. He'd even turned on the water for her. And the general hadn't been there for any of it.

She groaned and let her head drop into her hands.

"Is something wrong?"

Katara met the old man's eyes. "The clothes were your idea, weren't they?"

For several long seconds, the general watched her. "No. Prince Zuko reached that decision on his own. I merely encouraged him to carry through with it once the decision was made." Another pause. "I gather you would prefer it had been my idea?"

Yes. Of course.

The world made little enough sense without Zuko doing things like this. She frowned, running her thumb along the hem of the too-large tunic. Going out of his way to keep her alive was one thing. That made sense. But the clothes, the soap, the comb—none of that could possibly benefit Zuko.

"How am I supposed to believe that the jerk who spent so much time trying to capture me would do something like that?"

"You do not believe me when I say that Prince Zuko intends you no harm."

That wasn't quite the problem. She did believe it on some level. She could understand why Zuko would want her alive and healthy. Dealing with a sick or injured prisoner would be difficult, and killing one of the Avatars wouldn't help the Fire Nation. Not when the next one could appear anywhere in the whole, massive Earth Kingdom. But anything beyond the barest necessities—why would he bother?

"It seems like a lot of work for nothing if he's going to turn me over to the Fire Lord anyway." She paused. That was another problem. She didn't believe that Zuko was planning to hurt her. She didn't even think that he wanted to. But he couldn't keep her on this ship forever. If Katara didn't leave on her own terms, then— "If he does—if Zuko takes me to the Fire Nation, what happens?"

The general watched her in silence for a while. "At that point, I believe it would be left to the discretion of the Fire Lord."

"What does that mean? What would he do to me?"

His expression was guarded. "I cannot speak for my brother's intentions."

"What do you think he would do?"

The general shook his head. "I do not know. The Fire Lord is not known to be a merciful man." Another long pause. "However, this may be another topic worthy of discussion with Prince Zuko."

Katara tried to push down the uneasiness in her stomach. It was never going to happen, she reminded herself. She was going to escape long before the Fire Nation shores. But she still had to ask.

"So Zuko knows what the Fire Lord is planning to do to me?"

"Quite the contrary," the general replied. "But the conversation itself, I believe, may be an enlightening experience for you both." Reaching forward, he slid a tile with a white flower in the middle to the center of the board. "It is your move, Miss Katara."


It took hours—a few of them poring over maps until he settled on a destination that wasn't Pohuai, then a few more arguing Jee into agreement—before Zuko was finally able to return to his cabin and crash, face down and fully clothed, onto his bunk. He could sleep for days. And between their pitiful, crawling pace and the distance to their next stop, he might even have the chance to.

Or not. Zuko couldn't tell how long his eyes had been closed when pounding at his door jarred them open again. Not long enough.

He opened his eyes a bleary slit and blinked at the door. "Go away, Uncle," he called, voice scratchy and muffled with sleep.

"It's Lieutenant Jee," the voice replied.

"Go away, Lieutenant."

Jee, of course, ignored that. "There's a message for General Iroh."

Zuko raised his head off the pillow and blinked his vision clear. What? How was that his problem?

"So take it to him."

"I would, sir, but you instructed us not to interrupt while the general is visiting the waterbender."

Zuko frowned. Had he said that? Why would he have—oh, right. Because Uncle talked a lot, and Zuko didn't want the crew overhearing anything about the girl being the Avatar. He rubbed his eyes and slowly rolled off of his bunk.

Squinting against the brightness in the corridor, he opened the door just enough to stick his hand out and snatch the scroll. That was all he needed to do. Just grab the scroll, set it aside to deliver to Uncle later, and crawl back into bed. A perfect plan. Probably his best one ever.

But the door wouldn't shut when he tried to close it, and it took a second before Zuko noticed Jee's boot blocking its way.

"You may not want to wait with that one, Prince Zuko. It looks important."

Even Zuko's scowl felt sleepy. Jee would say that about anything. Jee had once said that about an impressive-looking seal on a letter that turned out to be nothing more than a flyer for an Earth Kingdom carnival that got blown off course. But for once, Zuko was too tired to argue.

Grudgingly, he looked down at the scroll. That was Zhao's seal. So maybe it was a little important. And there was something wrong with the seal. Not Commander Zhao. Admiral. Admiral Zhao.

Zuko slammed the door open and shoved past Jee. What on earth had possessed Father to promote Zhao again? Zhao was hardly qualified for his old position as captain. He had no business being a commander, much less an admiral. Had Zhao bribed Father? Blackmailed him?

As he mounted the stairs down to the waterbender's cell, Zuko shook his head. No, Father wouldn't fall for anything like that. He wouldn't. Zuko might never understand how Zhao had managed to earn two promotions in such a short time, but Father must have had his reasons.

At his approach, Uncle looked up from his meal. "Prince Zuko! Would you care to join us?"

Zuko's spine stiffened. Through the bars, he could see the girl watching him, her eyes narrowed and her gaze sharp. Was she going to call his hair stupid again? He was probably due for another shave.

It took all his will to keep himself from reaching up to check whether his scalp had gone prickly again. Zuko shook his head. "No, Uncle. I—" He caught a glimpse of Uncle's bowl. Congee? Was it breakfast already? Had he actually slept that long? He shook his head again. It didn't matter. "A message came for you. Zhao's been promoted."

He could hear the tension in his own voice and saw just a hint of it reflected in Uncle's face before he took the scroll.

"Is that so? I suppose I must offer my congratulations."

The waterbender finally pulled her suspicious gaze away from Zuko and scrutinized Uncle instead. "Who is Zhao?"

Uncle broke the seal on the scroll and turned his attention to its contents without answering. Ha. So Uncle did that irritating long-pause thing with the waterbender too.

The waterbender, however, didn't seem to understand how these silences worked. That Uncle's pauses were his way of refusing to answer and forcing people to figure things out on their own. Asking the same question again never prompted anything more than proverbs and even longer pauses.

She crossed her arms, stuck out her chin, and raised an eyebrow. "I asked a question."

Uncle glanced up from his scroll for just an instant. "Yes. Prince Zuko knows the answer as well as I do. He may answer on my behalf."

What? That wasn't how this was supposed to work. Zuko didn't want to talk to the waterbender. What he wanted was to go back to sleep—though, if he'd already slept a whole night through, he probably shouldn't.

The waterbender looked up at Zuko again, her gaze piercing straight through him.

Zuko stifled a groan. "Zhao is an admiral. He used to be a commander." His voice sounded stiff, even to his own ears.

"And that matters because?"

"The blockade around Crescent Island? That was Zhao."

The waterbender kept staring, unimpressed.

Zuko struggled for words. He couldn't tell her what had actually happened at Crescent Island. He couldn't admit that he'd challenged Zhao to an Agni Kai so that the waterbender and her friends could escape. He couldn't admit that he'd fought for the right to keep chasing the Avatar and won, or that Zhao had already proven how little he thought of the terms of the duel when he burned Zuko after their fight was over. It was shameful enough that Uncle knew.

Zuko tightened his jaw. "He's trying to capture the airbender," he eventually managed. That was true. That was safe.

"So Zhao is just like you."

His vision flashed red. "You don't know what you're talking about. I'm nothing like him."

"You're both firebenders trying to capture me and my friend. I don't see any difference."

"Fighting for the same cause does not make us the same!"

"It doesn't make you different," the girl shot back. "Do you think you're better than What's-His-Name?"

"I am better than him." The words burst out of Zuko before he could think.

"How? How are you any better?"

Because I'm not cruel like Zhao. But before he could say it, another thought wedged its way in, this one with a different, deeper voice. You're too soft for your own good. Zhao is a better commander, a better soldier, a better firebender than you will ever be.

He choked on his words and felt his face go hot as the girl continued staring at him. How was he supposed to answer that? It was better for the waterbender that Zuko had captured her instead of Zhao, but the other voice—it had a point too. Had he really forgotten that?

"You did not read the letter, did you, Prince Zuko?" Uncle asked, jerking Zuko back to the present.

It took a moment before he was able to fix his face back into a scowl. "What do you think, Uncle? I brought it to you sealed."

Uncle frowned before rolling the letter shut. "You ought to read it. Admiral Zhao has some rather interesting news."

"I think I can guess. The seal says 'Admiral' Zhao."

"There is more."

Zuko scowled harder. "Can't you just tell me?"

"I could not hope to communicate it as well as Admiral Zhao." Uncle held the scroll out, his expression far graver than his tone. "I believe the last paragraph will be of particular interest to you."

His sigh turned into a groan halfway through, but Zuko accepted the letter. His eyes skimmed over the words as quickly as possible. Everything was as he expected. In the most abrasively smug tone possible, Zhao went on about all the 'grand accomplishments' that had earned him this promotion, all the good he'd done the Fire Nation, and how loyal all the men under his command were to Zhao's word. None of it was true, all of it was enough to make Zuko feel sick, and he wasn't even reading every word.

Then he came to the last paragraph.

Ordinarily, a promotion is not to be celebrated. It is an acquisition of great responsibility, not an elevation of ones' status—Zuko almost snorted at that. It was true, but he didn't believe for a second that Zhao had that capacity for humility or reason—however, in this instance, a celebration is warranted. I hope I might enjoy the honor of your attendance, General Iroh, at the parade to be held at the Pohuai Stronghold in honor of my most glorious victory yet: the capture of the Avatar.

Zuko's heart skipped, his stomach lurched, and in the space of a heartbeat, he went from feeling vaguely sick to very sick indeed.

He looked up to find Uncle watching him and the waterbender staring, eyes narrowed. His pulse roared back, faster and louder than before. This wasn't supposed to happen. The monk was his quarry. Zhao had no right to take that away from Zuko.

"What are you going to do, Prince Zuko?" Uncle asked, his gaze and his tone equally steady.

The waterbender looked between them both, eyes wide with bewilderment. "What? What happened?"

Zuko couldn't answer. He could barely think. He had to get to Pohuai somehow, and then—then he'd have to figure out what happened next, but he couldn't be defeated like this.

"Why does he look like that?" The waterbender's braid swung wildly as she looked back and forth between Zuko and Uncle. "Zuko, what's with that face? What's in the letter?"

Zuko tried to roll the letter back up, but his hands were too clumsy, and the paper crumpled instead. He didn't care. It didn't matter. Turning on the spot, he broke into a run.


Author's Note:

Dun, dun, duuuuun!

I'm sure everyone saw this coming, but The Storm really has to lead into some variation on The Blue Spirit. And I'm so excited! I know I keep saying that on every chapter, but things are starting to happen and I LOVE IT. I will say that keeping the right dynamic between Zuko and Katara has been tricky (capture scenarios are tricky in general), but I think it's been turning out pretty well so far. I'm becoming addicted to these moments when Katara asks questions that don't seem that significant from her perspective but they really get in Zuko's head and force him to examine what he's thinking and doing.

If you happened to miss it, I posted two new fluffy Zutara oneshots since my last update, and I'll be posting another oneshot in the same Zutara Week Throwback series next week, so feel free to check those out if you're interested! And after that, it'll be time for weekly Ice & Smoke updates to start again! (Excuse me while I try not to combust keeping spoilers to myself.)

As always, reviews are much appreciated, and feel free to visit me on Tumblr (soopersara)!