Water

Looking Forward

Iroh was becoming accustomed to not knowing where Zuko was or what he was doing. Most days now, Zuko woke up before Iroh, disguised himself as one of Zhao's crewmen, and then disappeared until after the evening shift began. Iroh, of course, would have very much preferred to know what Zuko was up to, but he was simply at that age. Old enough to look after himself most of the time, and yet still too young to understand how worrisome his absences could be.

Fortunately, Zuko had kept out of trouble so far. Iroh tried to comfort himself with that fact. They'd been aboard Zhao's ship for quite some time now, and there had yet to be any serious mishaps. In fact, Zuko was probably just having a nice visit with the komodo rhinos at the moment. Ever since he was a little boy, he'd been fond of animals—even ones that didn't care much for him. And the komodo rhino pens were quite possibly the safest place for Zuko to spend his time outside of the cabin.

Really, Iroh should be grateful. It was nice that Zuko finally had an opportunity to recall those softer parts of himself that years of commanding his own ship had begun to quash. It was nice that Zuko could begin to remember who he truly was.

And it was nicer still to know that Zuko wouldn't be attempting anything too dangerous so long as there were komodo rhinos to occupy his time, and distant plans to occupy his mind. At least for a few more days, Iroh could be reasonably secure in the knowledge that the poor boy was safe.

Taking a long sip of his tea, Iroh turned his attention back down to his game board. For now, the best he could really do was to be close by when Zuko needed support. If he ever admitted to needing it. It seemed more likely that Iroh would have to continue dropping tidbits of advice whenever the opportunity arose, and hope that some of it stuck in the end.

That and meditating. He had a strong inkling that it would take lots of meditation to keep his wits about him for the next few days before Zuko's departure. Perhaps even more so once he was gone.

Without warning, the door slammed open, and Iroh jumped. It was Zuko—it could only be Zuko, no one else would burst in like that—but the suddenness alone was enough to send Iroh's heart into a startled frenzy.

Zuko slammed the door closed and skidded across the cabin, coming to a stop on his knees just in front of Iroh. He tossed his helmet into an open chest, then grabbed Iroh's shoulder, wild-eyed.

"Uncle, you won't let me starve, will you?"

Iroh blinked. "Certainly not. But—"

"Good, because I think I have to go live inside the air vents until we land."

"You—what?" He caught Zuko's arm just as he started to pull away. "Prince Zuko, what on earth happened?"

"I—" Zuko cut off at the sound of footsteps in the corridor and pried his arm free. "I can't say. No time."

Before Iroh could speak again, Zuko was up, and bolted around to the opposite side of the bunk. He dropped flat on his stomach, out of sight, just as a knock came at the door.

Iroh sighed, staring up at the ceiling. So much for avoiding any major mishaps. Slowly, very slowly, he counted backward from ten before he pushed himself to his feet and checked over his shoulder to be sure that Zuko was hidden, then made his way toward the door.

"Taro?" The young man stood just outside the door, unusually pale and wide-eyed. Iroh had to take another long, calming breath to keep from leaping to any conclusions. There were plenty of reasons why Taro might be distressed, and plenty of reasons why Zuko might be embarrassed enough to hide. The two things weren't necessarily related. Iroh forced a smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I'm sorry, General Iroh." Taro gave a hasty bow. "I know I'm not supposed to be up here, but—"

"Nonsense. You are more than welcome to visit me." Iroh looked briefly up and down the hall. "Though I do believe that Admiral Zhao may have a somewhat less favorable opinion on the matter. Perhaps it would be best if you stepped inside."

"Yeah. Right." At Iroh's gesture, Taro entered and thumped down just inside the door.

Iroh did his best not to allow his expression to waver. That was not exactly an ideal place for Taro to sit—he couldn't see Zuko's hiding place, but it was uncomfortably close to the right angle. Iroh chose his own place carefully, angling himself so that he could keep an unobtrusive eye on Zuko's hiding place and yet block most of the space from Taro's view.

Perhaps it had been a bit unwise to invite the young man in, but Iroh had always had something of a soft spot for Taro. It likely had something to do with the fact that Lu Ten would have been the same age by now—oh, Agni. Iroh probably was too sentimental for his own good at times.

He folded his hands over his stomach anyway. "Now. What is troubling you?"

"I just—" Taro shook his head. "I got to talking with Lieutenant—with Jee earlier today, and—well, it's a long story. But we've all been trying to give our condolences since Prince Zuko—since he passed, and Zhao hasn't let anyone come near here. Today, I just had to damn the consequences and get up here. It's been too long now."

"Ah." So it did have to do with Zuko, but at least it didn't seem to be anything urgent. That was a very good thing.

Taro shifted and scuffed his palms up and down his thighs. "'Course now that I'm here, I realize you probably asked Zhao to keep everyone away."

Iroh shook his head. "I did no such thing. Your sympathies are very much welcome and appreciated." And it was probably a good change for Zuko as well. It wasn't often that he got to hear how deeply he was appreciated.

However, it was just like Zhao to isolate a man in mourning. That was a lesson he'd likely learned from Ozai. People were easier to manipulate when they were alone. That was precisely why Zhao had tried so hard to pull Iroh away from Zuko before finally resorting to blasting jelly to finish the job. Were it not for the fact that the isolation kept Zuko safe at the moment—well, safer—Iroh wouldn't stand for it.

"Well then, I'm sorry about what happened to Prince Zuko. I know none of us really saw eye-to-eye with him, but—he was doing his best. Especially toward the end. You should be proud." Taro stopped there and wiped at his eyes.

Ah. Iroh had suspected that the crew were growing fonder of Zuko before the explosion that had come so close to claiming his life, but it was still rather remarkable to hear it aloud. After so much of the world had turned its back on Zuko, it only seemed right that some of them, at least, would find it in their hearts to care once again.

Of course, it was strange to hear such a thing when Zuko was very much alive and hiding just a few paces away, but there was little to be done about that. Maybe it would do him some good to hear some of his former crew's fonder thoughts.

Iroh chose not to think about how much of it might have never been said if not for the disastrous explosion that had nearly killed Zuko. What mattered was the fact that Taro was saying it now.

The only trouble was that Iroh still had to pretend that Zuko was gone. And it was much more difficult to lie to Taro than to Zhao.

"I have always been proud of Prince Zuko. His determination to persevere against the worst of odds was admirable, though it did sometimes lead him astray."

Taro nodded. "I think he'd have grown up to be a decent man. One of the better royals."

He still would. Zuko would be the best of the royal family if Iroh had anything to do with it. Zuko was already well on his way—he had the conviction and compassion to be a good leader. It was just a matter of helping him to direct his energies in a healthier direction.

"I'm sure that Prince Zuko would have been pleased to hear you say so." Iroh allowed a moment of silence, watching from the corner of his eye to see whether Zuko would react. Nothing. Hmpf. Well, hopefully he was listening, at least. "May I ask whether there is a specific reason why the subject arose today?"

Taro shrugged. "Jee and I were on the same shift—Zhao demoted Jee, but there wasn't anywhere lower for me to go—and we got talking about the old days. Never thought I could possibly miss the way things used to be, but Zhao is doing his best to prove me wrong."

Iroh nodded. He wished that he could be surprised that Zhao would do something so disgraceful as to demote so many good and loyal—if rather surly and hardheaded—men, but this was Zhao. It was hard to disbelieve anything when a man who'd done his best to kill two children was involved.

Taro, however, wasn't finished. He blurted out the rest in a wild rush of words. "And then I forgot my helmet by Jasmine's stall, and when I went back to get it, I thought—I thought that I saw Prince Zuko talking to Jasmine. I mean—I did wake up on the floor a little while after, so obviously I was just imagining things. It just—seemed so real."

Iroh froze, and it took a mighty force of will to keep from glancing toward Zuko's hiding place. "Is that so?" he managed after a brief lapse.

Taro nodded earnestly.

"Well—that is—" It explained a few things, at least. Unfortunately, it also placed a great strain on even Iroh's ability to maintain something resembling placidity. He stroked his beard. "I have seen many strange things in my time, but I am afraid that I know very little about apparitions of that sort."

"Yeah. I wouldn't expect you to. But I could have sworn that Prince Zuko was standing right there in front of me."

Iroh could just imagine the look of mortified horror on Zuko's face, and he took a moment to steady his expression before reaching across to pat Taro's shoulder. "Memory can be a powerful thing. I have always found that tragedy makes it more vivid."

Taro nodded again, looking a little dazed.

"Is it possible that you may have injured yourself?" Iroh prodded. "A blow to the head should not be taken lightly." Perhaps it was a bit cruel to pass off a legitimate encounter as a hallucination of some sort, but it was entirely possible that Taro had hit his head as well. The convenience of the excuse could not be ignored.

"I guess." Taro blinked a few times. "There was a pretty good bump on my head when I woke up."

"Then you ought to have it looked at. We wouldn't want another tragedy on our hands."

"Yeah." Taro staggered to his feet, though it was difficult to tell whether his balance was disrupted, or his legs had merely fallen asleep. "I said I was sorry about what happened to Prince Zuko, right?"

Iroh nodded, rising alongside the young man, both to steady him if necessary, and to keep him from looking toward Zuko's hiding place. "You did. I appreciate your sympathy very much, and I will be sure to visit with you and Jee and the others once you are feeling better." He glanced back toward the bunk only once before he opened the door. "Can you make it to the infirmary?"

A nod. "It's just a bit—" Taro waved down the hall.

"Good." Iroh patted his shoulder one last time. "Off you go, then."

He waited at the door, watching until Taro reached the infirmary, before stepping back into the cabin and turning the lock.

With a long, slow sigh, Iroh rubbed his forehead. Then, when he had collected himself, he crossed the room again and perched at the foot of the bunk, only an arm's length away from where Zuko had done his best to wedge one armored shoulder under the bunk.

"So." Iroh fixed his eyes on the banner hanging on the opposite wall. "I see that you've taken to haunting your former crewmen."

A low, prolonged groan came out of Zuko, but he remained motionless, face-down on the floor.

"Have you decided which of the air vents you would like to move into? I personally believe that the mess hall would provide both entertainment and easy access to supplies."

"That isn't funny, Uncle." Every word was muffled, and Zuko still refused to budge.

Iroh reached down and patted the back of Zuko's head. His hair was a bit longer now, and growing increasingly fluffy all over his scalp. "It is a little bit funny."

Zuko turned his head just far enough to scowl up through his unscarred eye. "See if I ever come to you for help again."

"You know that I will always be here for you when you need it."

With a grunt, Zuko turned face-down again, and crossed his arms under his forehead.


Planning was hard. Even more so when Katara didn't have the option of asking Sokka for help. Technically, she could have waited for him to get home from training and asked for his opinion, but this was a people problem. Sokka just wasn't that good with people problems. Science things, travel plans, battle strategies, engineering—he was great at all of that stuff. But navigating the whole messy disagreement with Pakku was entirely different. Sokka could very well make things worse.

Besides, Sokka was still hung up on the idea of Katara leveraging her status as the Avatar to win Pakku's approval. She didn't want to do that. Not unless she had no other choice.

Maybe not even then.

"If Master Pakku saw how much you can do, he might change his mind," Aang suggested, dangling upside down from the end of the bed. "You're really good already. If we could prove that, maybe he'd realize that you can waterbend."

"I've thought about that." Katara stared up at the icy white ceiling. She was probably picturing it a little differently than Aang—less as a dignified exhibition of her skills, and more as a fight with Pakku—but she had considered it. "I might have to prove how much I can bend, but it just seems like it should be a last resort. I don't want to risk making him angry unless I've tried everything else first."

"I guess so." He paused. "What is everything else?"

"Well—I want to try talking to him if I can." She rolled over onto her stomach and folded her hands beneath her chin. "Princess Yue said that it might help if I told him about what happened with Zuko. You know, because he might not have been able to catch me if I was a better waterbender."

"That might work." Aang's face hung just a little out of her reach, slowly turning red from hanging upside down. "If he asks why Zuko captured you, are you going to tell him that you're the Avatar?"

"Not if I can help it. If I have to, I'd rather throw a lot of water at him first."

"Hmm." Aang didn't seem to understand her desire to keep it a secret, but at least he wasn't arguing the way that Sokka liked to. "I hope he listens so nobody has to fight."

Katara wasn't quite so hopeful. Or maybe she was hopeful, but she was just hoping for different things. She was kind of hoping that she'd get a chance to fight—and beat—the sexist old jerk. She hadn't been able to properly train in the past few days since they'd arrived at the North Pole, but she was still as capable as ever.

She just couldn't think about how far she was falling behind. Now wasn't the time to give into jealousy.

"Do you think that you could stall Pakku after lessons tomorrow?" she asked. "Just so I can get there before he leaves."

"You want to talk to him tomorrow?"

She nodded. "I think so. I've waited long enough, and I don't know how else I'm going to get a chance to change his mind." She caught a flash of apprehension on Aang's face. "What? Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, it's just—I don't know if Master Pakku will stick around and let me talk to him. He really doesn't like me. He says that I'm a chatterbox with all the focus of a drunken eel squid."

"When did he say that?"

"Today. Just before the end of class."

Right in front of all the other kids, she had to assume. Ugh. What a massive jerk. Aang did have some trouble focusing sometimes, but then so did everyone else. That didn't give Pakku a good excuse for insulting people in public.

"Oh!" Aang shot upright and turned around to face Katara. "Maybe I should just teach you! That way we wouldn't have to talk to Master Pakku at all."

"Well, we could do that. But where would we practice? And would we have to—"

A knock interrupted her, and Aang sprang to his feet. "I'll get it!"

By the time that Katara sat up, Aang was already at the door.

"Hi, Princess Yue!"

"Hello, Avatar Aang. It's very nice to see you." Momo chattered, and Yue added. "And who is this cute little guy?"

Katara scrambled to her feet and emerged into the main room as Aang introduced Yue to the lemur.

"Katara!" Yue said, cutting Aang off. "You're here. And Sokka, is he—"

"Not back from training yet." Katara tried not to be too surprised by the fact that Yue had interrupted Aang. It did seem a little odd—from what Katara knew, Yue was polite almost to a fault. But maybe she was just busy and in a rush today. "He should be back soon if you want to wait for him."

"No!" Yue stopped herself and flushed. "I—I mean, no, that's quite all right. I was actually hoping to speak with you."

Okay, things just kept getting stranger. Since when did Yue say no to visiting with Sokka? "Sure. Why don't you come inside?"

"Actually, if you don't mind, I think I'd prefer a walk. It's such a lovely day, I'd hate to spend it all inside."

Katara glanced over Yue's shoulder. It was cloudy and dim outside. It looked and felt like it was going to snow tonight. She'd hardly call it lovely weather.

"Sure," she said anyway. What harm could it do? Besides, this could be interesting. If Yue was out of sorts, then there had to be something going on. Katara wanted to be a good friend, and if that meant that she got to hear interesting news before the others did, then all the better.

She pulled on her parka and squeezed past Aang into the bright, overcast afternoon. "If Sokka asks," she called back over her shoulder, "tell him I'll be back later."

Almost before Katara was through, Yue began walking, and Katara had to jog a few paces to catch up.

"So. What happened? Is something wrong?"

"What? No. No, of course not." Yue wouldn't look at her.

Interesting. So there were worse liars in the world than Zuko. Or equally bad liars, anyway. Yue was wringing her hands and biting her lip, and doing nothing at all to mask the tension in her voice.

Katara decided not to press. At least not yet. Whatever was bothering her probably wasn't suited to a public street if she didn't want Sokka to hear about it.

Yue led her northward on the street that passed by the front of the house, then along a glistening canal through the center of the city. The houses grew farther apart as they drew away from the city's outer wall until Katara could see the place where the city ended and the empty, frozen landscape began.

"I just wanted to visit," Yue said, her tone just a fraction more convincing than before. "We were cut off rather abruptly yesterday, and after you left, I began to realize that I truly don't spend enough time with friends anymore. I'm only sixteen. I do have plenty of official duties, but surely I can still use my free time as I choose." There was an unmistakable undercurrent of distress in each word, but Yue just kept walking, head held high, and her eyes fixed forward.

Katara nodded. "That makes sense to me."

"I'm glad." Then, in a transparent effort at changing the subject, "Have you made any progress with Master Pakku yet?"

Katara frowned. That wasn't what she wanted to focus on—nothing had actually happened yet, nothing had changed, and just mulling through the situation over and over again was getting dull. But if a brief change of topic could fill the time until they got to wherever Yue was leading her, then Katara would go along with it. For now.

"I have a few ideas," she said, watching her feet crunching through the increasingly loose snow. "Actually, that's what Aang and I were talking about before you came. I think I'm going to have Aang stall Master Pakku for a while after class so that I have time to get there after healing lessons."

"I'm glad to hear it. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to offer more advice last night." A pause. "Supposing you are able to train with Master Pakku, do you think you'll continue your training with Master Yugoda as well?"

"I haven't really thought about that. Healing—it never really interested me that much. But if I have time for both, I might try."

They continued on that way, with Yue asking questions and Katara playing along, until they passed the last of the houses and began a slight ascent up a snowy ridge.

"Okay, now that there's no one else around, do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" Katara asked.

Yue looked startled. "There's nothing bothering me. Why would you think that there was?"

"Because you're one of the worst liars I've ever met. And because you're trying to avoid Sokka." Katara paused. "It's not him, is it? Please tell me that Sokka hasn't done anything stupider than usual."

"No, Sokka hasn't done anything wrong."

"But there is something bothering you."

"I—" Yue broke off and shook her head. "I suppose there are worse things I could be than a bad liar."

"Plenty of worse things," Katara agreed as they crested the rise and came to a small ridge overlooking a broad expanse of flat ice and snow. It was almost perfectly flat, except for the occasional puckered scars where the ice was blown bare and pitted by the sunlight. "Where are we?"

"Isux Lake. This is the farthest from the palace I've ever been allowed to go." Yue paused. "In the spring and the fall, the old men will drill into the ice to fish while the younger ones go out hunting beyond the walls, and in the summer, the women gather kelp and mussels along the banks. But no one comes out here during the winter, so it's the perfect place to be alone."

"It's beautiful," Katara said. "It reminds me of home."

For a while, they both lapsed into silence, staring out over the ice. Maybe Yue wasn't going to say anything at all. Maybe that was okay—maybe she did just want some company. Katara could understand that. She'd certainly felt that way before.

And maybe seeing the lake was worthwhile all on its own. If no one ever came out here during the winter months, then it could be a good place to practice waterbending without interruption. If she had to. If she couldn't find her way into Pakku's lessons.

But after a few minutes of quiet, Yue did eventually speak. "I've always known the duty I have to my people. No matter what else happens, I always have to think of their needs first. And I've never really minded it. I love my people. Why would I ever think twice about putting them first?"

Katara turned to watch her.

"But at the ceremony last night—just for a moment, I had to wonder what it would feel like to be selfish. Just this one time."

"What kind of ceremony was it?" Katara ventured after a pause.

In a gesture that she recognized all too well, Yue raised her mittened hand to her throat. "It was a selection ceremony." She drew in a slow, steadying breath. "It's my duty to marry for the good of my people. To give them a good chief to succeed my father by taking an appropriate husband." She glanced at Katara. "Last night, my father chose his successor, and my engagement was settled."

Katara caught a glimpse of the ivory pendant hanging at the base of Yue's throat, larger and more ornate than her own necklace. It was beautiful, but it was obvious that it was both unfamiliar and unwelcome to Yue.

"That's why you didn't want to see Sokka," Katara said quietly.

With a tight-lipped attempt at a smile, Yue nodded. "I know it's a bit cowardly of me, but I don't know how to begin explaining the situation to him. Not yet."

Katara nodded. It didn't sound cowardly to her. It sounded like the topic was too fresh, too raw to broach without difficulty. "I understand that. Some things are hard to talk about." She pushed her mittened hands into her pockets to keep them warmer. "Do you at least like your fiancé?"

"I—" Yue sighed and shook her head. "I would not have chosen him for myself."

"Is there someone you would have chosen?"

"Maybe someday," Yue admitted. "I don't know for certain. I'm sure you've noticed that I like your brother very much—" she paused long enough for Katara to nod, "—but if anything, meeting him has made me realize how little I know of my own wishes. With enough time, I might have chosen Sokka, or I might have decided that my father's choice was the right one all along. Or I might have chosen someone else entirely. The trouble is that before I met Sokka, I never really considered the possibilities. Now that I have, there is no time left to change course."

"I'm sorry," Katara said.

Yue gave a slow sigh. "I supposed it isn't so bad. I won't be married until a year from now. By that time, I'm sure I'll be more accustomed to the idea of it." A pause. "Maybe I'll like my fiancé better by that time."

Curiosity prickled up and down Katara's spine. "Do you mind if I ask who your fiancé is?" She probably didn't know him anyway. It was probably one of the benders in Pakku's advanced classes, someone who Katara might know by sight, but whose name would be utterly meaningless to her.

"Hahn," Yue answered. "I'm engaged to Hahn."

Katara felt her eyes bulge.

For the first time, Yue's smile eased, and she let out a short giggle.

"Hahn? The guy who made creepy comments to both of us at your party? That Hahn?"

A small, rueful smile. "It's a sensible match. Hahn is an excellent warrior, and his father is an important member of the council. Strictly speaking, he is everything the tribe could want or need."

Katara bit back the urge to express her honest opinion of Hahn. That he was a vile, creepy worm who ought to develop a character of his own, rather than relying on his father's. It was true, but probably not helpful at the moment.

"You don't sound very excited about it," she settled with instead.

Yue forced another smile that resembled a grimace. "Hahn is—difficult at times. But we have a whole year before we will be married. My father will be mentoring him closely for all that time. It's entirely possible that he could become more reasonable in that time." She looked out over the frozen lake again. "When the time comes, I will do the right thing for my people, even though I don't like it. I must. But—would you mind terribly if I asked you a favor in the meantime, Katara?"

"Of course I wouldn't mind."

"Then please." Yue took hold of both of Katara's hands. "If there's anything I can do to help you with Master Pakku, please let me know. My situation is settled—and I don't believe it would be wise to change it even if it were not—but the more I think about it, the more I believe that some change may be good for us. This seems to be a good place to begin."

Katara only hesitated an instant. "Would tomorrow be soon enough for that change?"

Yue laughed. "That's more than soon enough. You certainly don't need to rush anything on my account."

"I'm not. I was planning to speak to Master Pakku tomorrow anyway. If anything, this is overdue." Her resolve felt a bit stronger now. "I don't know if I'll need your help, but I appreciate the offer. I just hope this works."

"So do I," Yue said softly. Then, "If I can, I will be there to wish you luck. And if you decide that you do need anything, just let me know." She looked up at the darkening sky. "I suppose I have kept you long enough," she added, and motioned Katara after her.

They walked in silence until they reached Katara's door and stopped in the middle of the street. Hazy firelight flickered out through all the icy windowpanes, casting faint orangish streaks across the path.

"Sokka should be back by now," Katara said, shooting a glance toward Yue. "If you want to tell him what happened last night, now might be a good time for it. Or I could tell him if you want me to."

Yue looked up at one of the illuminated windows for a moment before she shook her head. "Thank you, but I think this is something I need to tell him myself. Just—perhaps not tonight." She faced Katara again. "Thank you for everything. And in case I don't see you before then, good luck with Master Pakku."


Author's Note:

I don't have much to say on this chapter aside from the fact that Zuko's run-in with Taro was 0% planned, it just kinda happened because my brain was wandering at work. Sometimes I think I'm funny.

See you in two weeks! The confrontation with Pakku is on the way, and in the meantime, reviews are always appreciated!