…

The Avatar was not a shabby waterbender. Even if he was a repulsive human being.

Katara watched now as the Avatar repeated her demonstration of how to turn a flow of water into a running ice bridge and use it as a springboard. She had shown him twice: once to demonstrate the move in its entirety; the second time to break down the three crucial moments of bending precision needed to complete the move.

Katara clenched her teeth as the Avatar mimicked her instruction with near perfection on the first try. Katara tried not to be annoyed, trying not to dwell on how this particular move had taken her a week to perfect, not to mention hours of listening to Master Pakku's berating criticism.

Katara's lip curled in disgust at the thought of her old Sifu. When Pakku had deserted the Rebellion, Katara had scarcely believed it. But when she later discovered that he had gone to the Fire Nation, betrayed them all to train the Avatar, her heart had recoiled in disgust.

The traitor, she thought bitterly.

But she quickly quelled her anger, reminding herself where she was. That she too, was now a traitor - following more closely in her old Master's double-crossing footsteps than she had ever imagined possible.

"Again." Katara demanded curtly. The Avatar sighed, but returned to his starting position without further protest. Katara tried not to take note of his toned form as he obediently began the exercise again.

Katara had to look away from the lithe way the Avatar moved, lifting her jaw in stubborn disapproval of the infuriating smile he flashed her on his landing. The twinkle in his eye flustered her for some reason.

It made her angry.

Instead of giving him the approval he was clearly seeking from her, she pointedly looked away, looking instead upward at the multi-storied enclosure around them. They were standing in the center courtyard of the Avatar's training arena, an enormous two-story rectangular building on the sprawling estate of the Fire Palace's back gardens. Katara had heard that it was once an open sparring ground where the children of the royal family came to learn firebending. However, since the adoption of the Avatar into the Firelord's arsenal, this building had been built around the sparring courtyard to accommodate the Avatar's training needs. Katara didn't know if that referred to the large trenches of water and sizable boulders that had been added to the courtyard, or more of the high walls keeping unwanted eyes out. Wouldn't want Ozai's secret weapon to be seen and analyzed.

Or perhaps, Katara thought resentfully, it was to keep the weapon in?

Katara didn't know what the Avatar himself had been told about the walls. Perhaps he had been told they were for his protection? (Certainly not to ensure he didn't leave? Or to imprison his teachers?)

More likely he hadn't considered them at all, Katara thought bitterly. Spoiled traitor that he is probably hasn't spared much thought for those outside his pampered life inside the fire palace.

"Do it again." Katara commanded once more. "And this time, no airbending on the run."

The Avatar's face looked surprised, and then abashed. "Did I? Sorry Sifu Katara, sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it." He looked up at her with a soft, apologetic expression. "When I'm tired I just don't know how to turn it off, know what I mean?"

Over the past two weeks, while training the Avatar, Katara had done her best not to engage in conversation with him.

But that had not always been as easy as she wished. The Avatar had not been at all what she had been expecting. She found his youthful openness to be disarming. Nothing like the hardened warrior she had expected to encounter.

But his surprisingly approachable demeanor didn't change the fact that she hated him. That he was cruel and uncaring; that he'd turned his back on the world that needed him, all for his own comfort and glory. To serve the nation that wanted to dominate the world. It didn't change the fact that it was his fault her entire tribe had been wiped out.

But Katara was increasingly bothered by how much harder it was to remember these facts in the face of this boy. If she wasn't vigilant, she could see how easy it would be to let her guard down. To be beguiled by the Avatar's easygoing charm.

Katara was here because she needed something. She had a job to do, and she was doing it. She owed the Avatar nothing more.

Decidedly not speaking to him, she sent him back out to do the move again. He had mentioned that he was tired, and this time as she observed him bend she could see it: the heavy way he breathed before beginning the exercise, the way he seemed to use his right arm more than his left today. On the landing she noticed once again, his reliance on airbending to soften his descent. A wince in his face.

"You used airbending again." She stated.

The Avatar let his head and shoulders drop forward in a dramatic sigh. "I'm sorry! I just…" she saw him bring his right hand to cradle the left side of his chest gingerly. "Earlier today in earthbending class, I got hammered by a boulder. It still hurts."

Almost immediately after the words left the Avatar's mouth, he looked at her in sudden alarm. His eyes widening with… fear? Before she knew it, he dropped on his knees before her in a kowtow, forehead to the ground. "Forgive me Sifu. I'm not… I'm not making excuses. It is my fault the boulder hit me; if I had been more attentive and vigilant, I would have avoided it. I… I'm not asking for leniency."

Katara was so taken aback by his sudden behavior that she stepped backward. What was he doing? Was he really apologizing to her for getting hurt?

For a moment she just stood there looking down at him, stunned. Finally she stuttered, "It's… it's okay."

He looked up at her then, a wash of gratitude and relief plain on his face. "Thank you, Sifu," he said as he stood, bowed, and then quickly returned to his position in the courtyard to begin the exercise again.

This time as he performed the movements —now that Katara knew what to look for— she could not avoid seeing the Avatar's fatigue, his involuntary winces. Against her better judgment she sighed and stopped him. "Here, let me help with that."

Katara ushered the Avatar towards a stone bench on the edge of the courtyard. As she did so she looked up to the second floor of the building surrounding them. The whole floor was essentially a long covered balcony - a Yuyuan archer ever pacing along each side, observing their lessons. As she sat the Avatar on the bench, she noticed that the archers each moved to the far ends of the balconies where they could still keep their tattoo-shaded eyes on them.

"Sit here and take off your tunic." Katara instructed.

The Avatar glanced up at the archers as well, not immediately following her instructions. "What are you doing?" he asked apprehensively.

"Healing you," she replied with as little care as she could project.

He hesitated a moment longer, rubbing his hand across the blue arrow of his other hand nervously. It was clear to her that he didn't want to do as she instructed, but Katara had yet to give the Avatar an order he hadn't obeyed. Eventually he dutifully began undoing the butterfly buttons holding his sleeveless tunic in place. He hesitated once more before removing the shirt altogether.

Katara caught her breath at what she saw. Pale crisscrossing lines covered his back. Old scars like those from a whip, but these with the additional telltale puckered edges of burns. For the first time, Katara saw that the blue line she had observed at the base of the Avatar's hairline actually traveled all the way down his back. But amid the scars the tattoo was slashed and interrupted in places, marring its trajectory down his spine.

Her trained healer's eyes looked more closely at the marks on his back; it was clear that each burn had been treated, like he'd been whipped and then immediately received care for the burns. None of the scars showed signs of necrosis or infection as she had often seen among burns she'd treated in the Rebellion. It was as though these injuries had been calculated. Planned. Meant to be painful without causing permanent disability. From the look of things, it had not been an infrequent treatment (although Katara did note that none of the scars looked new). Katara wondered with a turn in her stomach under what circumstances the Firelord's son would be put under this kind of abuse.

Her thoughts flashed to Zuko. And a conversation they'd had only once. The way he had turned away from her, hiding his own burn-scarred face.

Up until now Katara had spared no space in her heart to pity the Avatar. But for the first time it dawned on her that this boy shared a father with Zuko.

Her stomach turned again. With a thick swallow and great effort Katara pulled her eyes from the Avatar's scarred back, darting to his face. She didn't know what her expression betrayed, but as she met the Avatar's eyes, he shut them and turned away from her in shame, instead lifting his left arm and pointing to the side of his chest. "This is where I was hit."

Katara saw a large purple bruise on the side of the Avatar's chest, the discoloration looking ugly and painful. Katara had seen her fair share of wounds, and she estimated that this one likely concealed a cracked rib or two under the bruised skin. It's a wonder the Avatar could continue to train at all with this kind of injury! How could this go untreated?!

Katara schooled her thoughts and called an orb of water to her hands. Closing her eyes, Katara placed the glowing water onto the bruise. In response the Avatar's muscles retracted, pulling briefly away from the cold. But a moment later, he relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Wow! How do you do that?"

As she opened her eyes, she saw that the bruise was nearly gone, just a light greenish hue remaining where the dark bruise had been.

She saw the Avatar craning his head, inspecting the skin himself. Then he looked up at her with wonder in his eyes. "Sifu Katara, that's amazing! How do you do that?"

Katara thought back briefly to her dismissal at the North Pole; how she had been relegated to the healing huts when she'd wanted to fight. Healing had been among her first lessons in water bending. And she had resented them.

"Through the water I can sense the energy flow in a body and, using the water, I can direct this energy to accelerate a body's natural regenerative capacities." She looked up to see the Avatar's face filled with wonder. "Basically waterbending can heal."

Avatar Aang's eyes blew wider. "I didn't know that! Master Pakku never mentioned that before. He never taught me how…"

"He didn't know how."

"Really?"

" 'It's women's work', " Katara quoted bitterly.

The Avatar looked at her questioningly, no doubt picking up on the bitterness in her tone. "Can only women learn it?"

Katara thought for a moment. She had wondered this question before, given that she had never met a single male water-healer. But then she thought of how initially she had had to teach herself to waterbend—a man's work—when she'd been denied in the North Pole. The men of the Tribe scoffed at her, telling her it was impossible.

Eventually she shook her head. "No. Not everyone can learn to do it, only certain waterbenders can. But I'm sure it's not a gender specific ability."

"Can you… can you teach me to do that?"

Katara was surprised by his request. Why would a Weapon want to heal? "You want to learn to heal? Why?"

The Avatar looked completely surprised. "What!? Who wouldn't want to learn that?! I mean, it's unquestionably good. A way to heal people? I mean that…" His voice lowered and he looked down at his hands in his lap, "that would be worth spending your life doing."

Katara was surprised by his fervor. He spoke almost more to himself than to her.

But it just didn't make sense to her. What interest would the Firelord's Weapon have in healing?

She knew she was not supposed to engage in conversation with the Avatar, but she couldn't help herself. "You don't feel like what you are doing now is… worth spending your life doing?"

Aang looked up at her, his eyes openly honest. "I understand that it is the Avatar's duty to master all four elements. And I accept that." He sighed, "But so much of what I learn is, you know, just… violent. All day long I learn to fight." He looked back down at his hands, his voice dropping even quieter. "Why would I want to master all the elements if all that mastery will be used for is to destroy things? I've been told that sometimes I'll need to fight to bring justice, order, peace. But I can't… it just doesn't feel right."

There was a moment of quiet, the Avatar seeming to be lost in thought. Then he turned toward her, brightening significantly. "But healing? That would be something worth knowing! A way to improve people's lives."

For a moment Katara's thoughts froze, stuck because they didn't make sense. All of what the Avatar was saying was contrary to what she knew about him, what she had assumed. For the first time, Katara began to wonder how much the Avatar knew about the war. How much did he support the Fire Nation's aggressions?

Her eyes snaked back towards the Avatar's scars.

"I can teach you," she heard herself saying, before she had even decided to. "If you want to learn to heal, I can teach you what I know."

Avatar Aang's face lit up, his smile ridiculously happy. "Really!? Oh, thank you Sifu Katara!"

"But not today," she cut him off quickly. "I need time to prepare."

Which she did. She definitely had somethings she needed to work through, some emotions to sort out before she could go there with him.

She glanced back up at the archers; their arrows, although held low by their waists, were taught in the strings.

"For now, back to your position," she commanded.

The Avatar hurriedly pulled his shirt back on, buttoning it as he walked to his beginning position in the courtyard. When he was ready, he smiled at her as she commanded.

"Okay, let's start again."

…

Aang looked around carefully to see that he was alone, that all the stable hands had gone. Then he took the pointy-shouldered cape he wore off with a relieved sigh and flung his arms wide to hug the giant face of his oldest friend. The two took a large breath in unison as Aang laid his own blue arrowed forehead on the tip of his bison's brown arrow.

"I've missed you, Buddy."

Appa grunted an assent that sent Aang's robes billowing. "I know, Boy, but you know how it is. I'm not allowed to take you flying, and it isn't safe, even if I could. Not since…" Aang felt a catch in his throat. "Well you know. Not since that day."

Aang's mind unwillingly brought up images from one of the worst days of his life… a child's wild and stupid attempt to flee. Pursuit. Harpoons. And so much blood. Aang had barely felt the whipping he'd earned that day, even though it was the worst he'd ever received. His mind had been too much of a senseless mess—full of Appa's cries and mangled flesh—to feel his own body's pain.

Appa growled and bumped his forehead against Aang's, making him stumble backward a step, but effectively snapping him out of the spiraling thoughts he'd been caught in.

Aang laughed once, "Thanks, Buddy."

Appa huffed.

"I know. You don't blame me." Aang sighed, his next words too soft for the bison to hear, "that makes one of us…"

But Aang snapped himself out of his funk, wanting to take full advantage of his limited time with Appa. Even though Aang's ten-ton bison lived in a specially constructed stable on the palace grounds, Aang rarely was afforded time to visit him. Plus this was a sanctioned visit, so Aang basked in the pleasure of not needing to sneak around.

Unbeknownst to his caretaker, Aang also had unsanctioned visits; a little more time with Appa than Counselor Zhao's schedule allotted. However, he only got this extra time by stealing it, of course. It's hard to keep an airbender indoors if he has a window AND enough sense not to let anyone know he can run fast enough to scale the three story wall back into his room.

This little skill had also proved useful in getting in and out of the palace kitchens. A game-changer in one of the few battles he'd won in maintaining his Air Nomad identity. For a period of time the Firelord had become annoyed with Aang's "asinine vegetarianism" and had tried to rid him of his "inferior diet". So for a while, the Firelord had forbidden the cooks from making separate vegetarian dishes for him; he was expected to eat meat like the rest of the family. But Aang had refused to eat the meat dishes placed before him. He hadn't made a scene or said one word about it to the Firelord, but meal after meal he would leave his food untouched. It became a silent battle of wills between them.

Little did the Firelord know, that during this time, Aang would sneak into the kitchens at night and steal food. The Firelord didn't know, but it became apparent very quickly to Aang that the head cook, Cook Kanda, did. Because not two days after he had begun taking food from the kitchen, Aang found a nice bowl of stir-fried vegetables"carelessly" left out on the counter. The next day, a pot of miso soup and some seaweed-wrapped rice had "not been put away." Aang began leaving small gifts for the cook as thanks: a flower from the garden, a bit of twine he'd woven into a charm, a polished stone he thought was cool.

Together he and Cook Kanda had outlasted the Firelord's will on the matter. Eventually Ozai had begun casting bothered glances at Aang's quiet refusal to eat during meals: perhaps an eyeballed tally of the weight he had lost? Or concern for how it would affect his training? Whatever the reason, one day vegetarian dishes silently began appearing at mealtimes again. The only attention the Firelord ever gave the matter again was an occasional wrinkled nose at Aang's polite refusal of meat dishes, or once, a comment about Air Nomad's inferior digestive systems. The Firelord had not given Aang the pleasure of an open surrender, but Aang knew it for what it was: a pacifist victory.

Nowadays Aang still liked to sneak into the kitchens on occasion, to swipe an extra egg tart that had been left "lying about" by Cook Kanda, or to leave a small gift for him after he'd prepared a favorite of Aang's meals for dinner. Aang had never actually met Cook Kanda, but over the years of their non-verbal food conversation, he had become one of his favorite people in the palace. Perhaps one of his best friends.

Aang sighed internally at what a sad commentary that was on his state of friends…

When Aang had first arrived at the Palace, it had been a horribly lonely time for him. Only a few months beforehand (or what felt like a few months) he'd been among his people living a life of freedom and fun. Then, suddenly, he'd found himself thrust into the cold darkness of a fire navy ship's holding cell, followed by the cold darkness of prison. He'd been held in prison for months—he wasn't sure how long—but he had known that he deserved to be there.

After what he'd done at the Caldera City Bay… all the destruction… all the people he'd killed…. he knew he'd deserved his fate. But it was dark, and cold in prison, and he was scared. No one would tell him anything. No one would talk to him at all. He had cried for Gyatso and the other monks, wondering if they knew where he was. He was sorry, infinitely sorry, for running away. He wondered if Monk Gyatso would ever find him, would ever know what had happened to him.

Then one day Commander Zhao had marched into his cell with an entourage of servants in tow to clean him up. "The Firelord is showing you mercy, Avatar. No, not just mercy, but a great honor." Commander Zhao had been sure to boast of his own part in helping to get Aang released. And Aang was grateful to him. Even though Aang had known he deserved to rot in prison, it didn't change the fact that he'd been afraid and lonely. That he had hungered for the sun and breeze in the outside world. That he longed to be with his own people.

But it wasn't his people that awaited him outside prison: instead it was the Firelord and his household. Aang was told that his people were gone. Dead. All of them. A terrible tragedy had befallen them a century ago. So he was the Last. The Only. Because he'd been frozen in ice for a hundred years.

The message had been delivered as gently as Aang supposed was possible for such news. But it was brutal to hear. Unbelievable! And there was no where to turn for comfort. So his little boy heart had tucked away the information for another time; a time when he could privately unpack the small shards of razor sharp facts and examine them, turning them over and over, trying not to cut himself deeply enough to die of it. He left the shards hidden, pretending away the pain. Secretly not believing any of it, while in his soul, he feared it might be true.

Aang knew that he was lucky, that the Firelord was showing him a great mercy and honor to take him in as his own. That being let out of prison was more than he deserved, let alone being treated as a prince! But the Palace had felt so foreign to him. And even with servants all around, Aang had found himself horribly lonesome.

Once, he had tried to befriend the chamber boy who stoked the fire in his room each morning. He'd made the boy laugh, and had gotten him to talk animatedly once about a game called "exploding snap". The boy was called Xiao Wu, "Little Five", because he was the fifth son in his large, poor family. Aang had looked forward to his ten minutes of friendship with Xiao Wu each day. Until one day, Xiao Wu stopped coming, another boy having taken his place. The new boy wouldn't so much as make eye-contact with Aang, let alone answer his questions about where Xiao Wu had gone. Each day he would just rush nervously in, stoke the fire, and rush out again as quickly as he could.

It was a similar story with his favorite guard, the one with the mustache that turned upward at the ends, like he was forever smiling. This guard had once slipped him fire gummies, mumbling something about having a nephew his age. He had even playfully tripped Aang with his staff, a little game that always made Aang laugh. Aang had always looked for him among his helmet-wearing entourage and saluted him with mock seriousness. Aang could see the guard hiding his chuckle under his mustache.

But this guard soon disappeared as well. Aang hadn't even known his name.

Afterwards, none of the servants would look him in the eye; none would speak to him directly beyond the course of their duties. Time and again Aang would reach out in friendship; but no one reached back.

Aang's stomach contracted. Perhaps friendship with Aang was not worth the risk.

It was about this time that Aang had decided to run away from the palace. To go back to the Air Temple. Since he hadn't believed that the Air Nomads were really gone anyway.

But it had been a mistake. Appa had been hurt. And the Air Nomads were all gone.

As Aang leaned comfortably into Appa's affectionate nuzzle, Aang brought out this particular shard of truth to examine. He had figuratively fingered this piece of painful fact so many times now, that it had become smoothed, blunted a little. It could still cut him, of course, but its sharpness was dulled now. He knew he was the Last. The only Airbender to survive the Plague.

Aang swallowed thickly, willing away the tears that welled in his eyes. He knew he was alone here, but crying was dishonorable in the Fire Nation. So he had taught himself to resist it.

Blunted as the news of his people's extinction was, it would seem that their memory still cut deeply, and probably always would. So he tucked the shard away in his heart again where it couldn't hurt him right now, and turned his mind to other things.

Making connections with people had been difficult here in the Fire Nation, but he did have some. There was Counselor Zhao, who was a mentor to Aang. So different from how Gyatso had been, but Aang believed that he still had Aang's best interest at heart. And there was the Firelord, of course. Aang owed all that he had to Firelord Ozai's generosity. Aang would still be in prison if it weren't for him. So he was grateful, truly grateful, for his new Father's beneficence.

And there had been Ty Lee and Mai. They had never really been his friends exactly, they were there for Azula, but he liked them, and they were the closest thing to actual friends he'd had here. Ty Lee had been the easiest for him to connect with. She was fun, and had all sorts of cool tricks to teach him. Sometimes when he was with her, Aang thought he caught a glimpse of the Air Nomad spirit again.

But Ty Lee was also Azula's marionette one hundred percent. And Aang found it hard to stomach the way the bubbly girl could be kind one minute and then join in on the cruelties of the Princess the next. Aang's heart would sink when he saw her laugh as Azula tortured the gardener, or the palace messenger, or the turtle-ducklings; Aang would be reminded that the Air Nomads were actually gone.

Azula's other friend, Mai, was an enigma all her own. Aang had felt an iciness from her in the beginning, something colder towards him than even her particular style of apathy. Mai had made Aang nervous. And it wasn't because of her deadly precision with knives and shuriken, although that held its own intimidation. It was because of something he saw beneath her bored exterior. Like she could see right past his façade. Aang had often wondered if she wore one as well, although if so, she wore it much better than he wore his.

Aang had once wondered out loud why the Firelord wanted to treat him as a son. Mai had surprised him with a glint of fire in her eyes when she said, "Careful, sons are nothing but failures in the Firelord's eyes." It was the one and only time Aang had ever seen Mai's mask slip, a tinge of real bitterness in the words. But a blink later Mai had looked at him again, nothing but apathy and boredom back in her eyes as she added "or something like that," shrugged, and walked away.

Aang had never gotten close to Mai. But he liked her. Respected her for some reason. She also followed Azula's whims, but she didn't seem to take much pleasure in it.

Mai was also deeply competitive, which Aang found fun. Aang had once challenged her, betting that she couldn't pin him with her shuriken, sure that his airbending could make it impossible for her. He had been right, for a while. It took her some time, but Mai watched carefully. Then she adjusted her throwing angle to compensated for his wind, and in one fast swipe pinned both his arms to one of the trees in the garden. Then, just for fun (or maybe just to terrify him), she had thrown one more, right between his legs, pinning his pant leg to the tree as well. When he'd looked at her with the appropriate amount of shock and fear, Mai had actually smiled.

As Aang ran his hands through Appa's fur, he found himself missing Mai. He wondered idly what had kept her in the earth kingdom. He hoped next time she would come back home with Azula.

Azula. Yeah. That relationship had gotten a little bit complicated in recent years.

In the beginning, Azula had looked at him as little more than an annoyance, or at best a novelty - a strange little boy who had stolen away a portion of her Father's attention. But over time, and as Aang had grown in skill and stature, she had taken a more focused interest in him. Aang assumed her concentration on him was much like her interest in Ty Lee and Mai – Azula viewed the collection of powerful friends a wise tactical choice. But no matter the years of living with her, Aang could never seem to shake the feeling that what he had with Azula was more of a predator and prey relationship than any kind of true friendship, any kind of family. And it seemed the older and more powerful he grew, the closer and closer she circled in on him.

Aang wasn't sure exactly what Azula wanted with him, but he knew that Azula always got what she wanted.

Aang sighed, wishing that he ever got what he wanted.

Unbidden, thoughts of his waterbending master rose to his mind.

Aang sighed again, this time leaning his back heavily against the side of his best friend's furry head.

Appa grunted and bumped him, prodding him for more information.

"It's Master Katara…" Aang replied. "I can't get her out of my head! I just… I don't know… I guess I just really like her. Like really like her." Aang tipped his head back to rest on Appa. "I'm not even sure why. It's not like she's ever done anything more than teach me. I want to get to know her better, but she's pretty closed. Or maybe she just doesn't like me. I don't know!" Aang sank down to sit on his heels, his back still resting on Appa.

Appa huffed a deep groan.

"Hah, don't I wish that were true!" Aang replied with a chagrined smile. "But she didn't seem to like me before, and so I'm sure now…" Aang thought of the shock and disgust he'd seen on Master Katara's face today when she'd seen his scarred back. She must see him as defective, a failure. Someone who deserved to be punished. Aang groaned.

"It's just that, I don't know, I'm just drawn to her for some reason!" Appa listened. "Sure she's pretty—like gorgeous!—, but I want to believe that this thing I'm feeling" Aang gestured to his chest, "is more than that. I can tell that underneath she's teeming with energy, like there is a raw passion behind her careful exterior. Like there is so much she wants to say, but doesn't. I can't help but think that, well maybe… that she and I… are alike. That we could be friends. Like real friends. If things were different…"

Aang tried to tunnel his hands through his hair in frustration, but his topknot got in the way. He reached up and wrenched the tie on his hair loose, letting his black hair fall down to his shoulders. He knew he still needed to walk back to his room, and he shouldn't let the servants see him "so casual", but sometimes the formalities of the Palace just wound him too tight.

Aang ran his hand through his hair. Hair that he, like it or not, had had to get used to. Unlike his silent victory in maintaining his vegetarian diet, his hair was a battle he had not won. Aang recalled how completely unglued Counselor Zhao had become when Aang had one day decided to shave his head again. Aang could still remember the way Zhao had pushed him frantically back to his room, looking all around as though afraid of who might have seen, as though Aang's bald head had been a complete scandal! He'd required Aang to stay in his room for a week, until a short shock of black fuzz covered his head again. Zhao had demanded that he "never defile the palace and shame the Firelord this way again!" (Aang had wondered what that was supposed to mean?) Zhao had lectured long and boring "as the Firelord's son, he was to maintain decorum and honor" blah, blah, blah. To make a long (and tedious) story short, Aang learned that here in the Fire Nation, he did not have a choice about his hair.

"Master Katara has pretty hair," Aang said out loud, as though Appa had been privy to his random train of thought. Appa didn't seem surprised though, as if Aang's random segue was to be expected. Aang loved this about Appa; that Aang could just be himself around him, no judgement, no expectations. Aang could be as authentic as he wanted to be. A rare thing in his life these days.

"I asked her out, you know," Aang confessed. Appa turned his head toward Aang, his big brown eye watching him expectantly. "Well sort of. Not like a date date. Just to share dinner with me." Aang sighed. "She turned me down. Twice. Do you think she might be seeing someone else? I wonder what she does when she's not teaching me?"

Appa watched Aang for another moment. Then he closed his eyes and rolled over abruptly onto his side, causing Aang to fall onto his backside in the straw. Aang laughed as Appa made it abundantly clear that he wanted a rub on his tummy. "But what do you care, right?" Aang laughed as he commenced a vigorous two-handed scratch of Appa's immense furry underside. "My girl troubles make very little difference to you, eh, Buddy?" Appa answered by stretching his middle leg out, making it clear where he wanted Aang to scratch next. Aang laughed and obliged.

As Aang worked his way down Appa's belly, he could't help but smile. He loved Appa, and Appa loved him freely in return. An uncomplicated friendship that was a rare treasure indeed!

Aang closed his eyes and imagined flying with Appa again; the particular way the wind called when he was up so high and free. Aang often longed for the nomadic travels of his youth: the wind in his robes, the horizon low and far and calling to him, the freedom to come and go as he pleased.

But Aang shook his head, clearing it of the those long-ago images; the beauty of them too painful. He had never wanted to be planted in one place, never wanted to grow roots. But he supposed that if he had to stay here, he might as well do his best to bloom.

There were many things keeping Aang's nomadic heart at bay here in the Fire Nation, not least of which was his Sky Bison.

Aang looked down towards Appa's large, flat tail. Appa's tail was now bifurcated; it had been split viciously down the middle by a tree-sized harpoon. A result of Aang's selfishness, his stupidity. His attempt to run from justice, and from his duty.

Appa's wound had long since healed, but the split was still large enough Aang could stand in the gap. Fur no longer grew on the scarred portion. Aang thought that Appa could probably still fly—he'd seen him get airborne once or twice since then— but Aang was sure he certainly would never be able to soar like he had before.

Aang swallowed down the acid guilt that always burned his throat when he thought of the cost of his foolishness. Aang knew now that he had been wrong to try to run; that his actions had been a slap in the face of the Father who had shown him so much mercy, so much generosity. It was a reckless child's mistake that had cost his friend dearly. Appa's injury had been long ago, but the ache Aang felt was still raw. He knew he would never stop regretting how he had hurt Appa, how much his decision had cost his friend.

Although Appa had never been threatened overtly since then, Aang knew that his animal guide's well-being was an unspoken chip on the complicated pai sho board of Palace Politics. That Aang's obedience ensured Appa's safety.

"Everyone has a price," Aang found himself saying out loud, randomly quoting his adopted Father's teachings. "A price they are willing to pay, and a price they are willing to accept."

Aang wondered to himself about Master Katara: what price had she accepted to be here? What price had she had to pay?

He then wondered about his own price.

He wondered if his costs would ever get higher than he could afford.

…