Disclaimer: I do not own ATLA or LoK.

CHAPTER 8

Iroh sat at the small table nearest the shop's front, combing through the inventory list and making notes of what needed to be purchased. It was a welcome distraction amid a rather quiet afternoon.

A heatwave so stifling typically brought customers pouring into the tea shop, but it had been an unusually slow day. That stillness, Iroh knew, was at least partly due to the air of tension that seemed to cling to his nephew more stubbornly with each passing hour. Iroh eyed Zuko warily as the boy flitted around behind the counter, opening and closing cupboards, cleaning—fidgeting.

Perhaps it had been naive to hope that once Zuko had confessed to his—ah, predicament, that the rigidity of the boy's shoulders, the strain evident in his gait, would dissipate.

Well, some of it had—at least where Iroh was concerned. Zuko was visibly more composed—more…himself—in his uncle's presence. He had been more than happy to arrive early for his shifts the past two days for some 'real world' lessons. Iroh took small comfort in knowing that the young man who was-but-wasn't his nephew could, at the very least, pay off his credit card bill and refill his MetroCard.

It was nothing he hadn't already taught Zuko, of course. The kid wouldn't be so city-savvy if it wasn't for his old uncle's guidance. This round of teachings was simply a review session.

Well, except that it wasn't.

He watched as Lu Ten emerged from the backroom to make another lighthearted joke at his cousin's expense. Zuko, as he had done in response to the last several of the quips, merely stiffened, looking anywhere but at Lu Ten. This time, he turned toward the menu, reading it with the concentration of a scholar. Iroh suppressed a grimace, his mind unavoidably wandering for the nth time to the potential reasons for his son's ignorance.

He hadn't wanted to believe Zuko's confession at first, but it did explain why, despite appearances, Zuko was most certainly not himself. And he couldn't pretend he hadn't seen the boy conjure that flame from thin air.

But it wasn't what Zuko had told him that worried Iroh the most. Of course, it was more than concerning to hear that his nephew was on the run from an endless war in another life. He shuddered to imagine the kinds of horrors he and his family must have endured and would continue to suffer once Zuko made it back to this other life. Of course, Iroh could not bear to think of that as anything but an inevitability. He had his own nephew to consider. Was his Zuko now trapped in this other world?

He blinked rapidly. Back to the trouble at hand. There was something else that Zuko wasn't telling him. Sure, there was the possibility that Iroh simply didn't know the right questions to ask about the young man's life. It had, after all, been a lot for him to wrap his head around. But there was something about the vagueness of Zuko's responses…something about the way he continued to treat Lu Ten.

The two cousins were extremely close, as far as Iroh knew. Curious that Zuko had confided in his uncle first, rather than Lu Ten. Iroh supposed there was the possibility that Zuko and Lu Ten simply didn't have the same type of relationship in this other life. He reminded himself that this was not his Zuko. He didn't know this person. This…angry, confused person…was he merely a product of the painful reality of his world?

No. There was something more.

His reverie was interrupted by the bell ringing that signaled a customer—the first in what felt like hours. He watched as Zuko moved away from his spot hovering near the back, where he had spent the last several minutes observing Lu Ten cook a new batch of boba. He gave the young girl a small smile, taking her order with relative aplomb.

It was becoming increasingly evident that this Zuko was a quicker learner than the nephew he knew. Or at least, he was decent at pretending.

Iroh thought that he could feel his brain physically twist at that last thought.

Before long, the day was over. The boys had already begun the cleanup process, Zuko wiping down the counter at the front while Lu Ten filled the sink with soapy water in the back.

Once the former was finished, he approached Iroh's table hesitantly. "Um. What's next on the to-do list?"

Iroh closed his binder; the inventory list only half-finished. "Why don't you go help Lu Ten in the back? I'll finish up out here."

Zuko's eyes widened a fraction. Brows quirked, Iroh folded his hands and waited for a protest. Instead, Zuko nodded stiffly and turned on his heel, the tension back in his shoulders.

Iroh couldn't hope to hear what was said between the cousins above his son's now-blasting music, but he didn't need to. It was as if the floor had turned to eggshells the moment Zuko entered the room.

Iroh made a mental note to brew a calming jasmine for their tea that afternoon.

More time had passed than he realized, and in his preoccupation, he almost didn't notice when Lu Ten made his way toward the exit, backpack and scooter in hand. "Uh, Dad? Need some help?" he said, surveying the cluttered seating area.

Registering that he had not, in fact, finished up when Zuko went to the back, Iroh smiled sheepishly. "Ah, no. My joints are just a bit more tired than usual this afternoon. Go on home. You've got a long commute ahead. Zuko will stay back to help out."

Lu Ten shrugged and shouldered his backpack before turning back toward his cousin, who was now hovering behind the counter. "Hey, Zuke. Smash tournament this weekend? It's been a minute since you've come hang. My roommate got us a sick new sound system in the living room."

Zuko paled. "Um. I…can't? I have to—uh. Katara's parents are coming to visit."

Iroh knew this to be true. Katara herself had mentioned it during a visit to the shop last week. How did Zuko manage to still make it sound like a lie?

Lu Ten smirked. "No worries. Gotta make a good impression, right?" He gave his cousin an exaggerated wink. "See ya tomorrow," he said with a half-wave toward Iroh. The door clanged shut behind him, and they were alone.

"I told Katara to meet us here if that's okay."

Uncle smiled serenely. "That's perfect. As soon as you finish taking out the trash, we'll head upstairs." Upstairs? He shot the man a questioning glance, but he had busied himself with the vacuuming.

Zuko bolted for the garbage bin, skirting as far around Uncle and the machine as possible and silently thanking Uncle for taking on that task. He had recently decided that the vacuum scared the hell out of him—though, he would never admit that aloud.

With a huff, he dropped the garbage in a heap on the side of the street that Uncle had designated. Leaving trash in the middle of the road didn't make much sense to him, but he wasn't about to argue with Uncle about what did and didn't make sense in this place. Thanks to his lessons, this had been Zuko's first day completely without incident at the tea shop—well, almost. If only Lu Ten would stop insisting on being chatty.

Brushing his hands on his pants, he made to turn back toward the shop, but not before he spotted Katara ambling toward him, squinting between the various storefronts and her phone. Zuko gave her a small wave—she glanced up at the movement and quickened her pace.

"Hi," he said once she was within earshot, staring pointedly at a spot over her shoulder and most definitely not thinking about how…appropriately dressed for the weather that she was. Spirits, what is wrong with me?

"Hey."

"It's, uh, right in here."

Katara nodded and strode into the shop without another look at Zuko. He pursed his lips and followed after her.

Uncle's voice rang out from inside. "Hello, Katara. You're right in time. Thank you for coming."

"Hi, Gen—um, Iroh. You have a lovely tea shop."

It took effort for Zuko not to smack his hand against his forehead as he stepped in behind her. She was a military rank away from opening up the one can of beetle worms he desperately needed to stay closed. Maybe he should have spent the last two days grilling her about what not to say at this tea rather than giving her space. This is what I get for trying to be helpful.

He forced himself to let out the breath he had been holding. Don't overreact. She hasn't ruined everything. Yet.

Uncle was ushering them back out the front door, handing Zuko the key to lock up as he prattled on to Katara about the importance of correct tapioca consistency. He opened another, less conspicuous door right next to the shop entrance that led into a modest lobby and a set of stairs, laid out similarly to Zuko and Katara's apartment building. They walked up three flights before Uncle stopped in front of the door to what Zuko assumed was his apartment.

Katara let out a small snort of amusement at the doormat embossed with the phrase, "Please wipe your paws." Zuko felt his eyes involuntarily roll as he followed her over the threshold.

The first thing that caught his attention was how much nicer his uncle's place was than his and Katara's. Though, he supposed that wasn't exactly high praise, given the shape their apartment was in. A door stood open to the right that led to a separate bedroom, and with a pang of jealousy, Zuko wished he and Uncle could trade.

"You have a beautiful home," said Katara brightly, echoing his thoughts—albeit minus the bitterness.

The creak of the wood and the cracks in the crown moldings proved that time had performed its irreversible deeds. Still, the home had a simple elegance that reflected its occupant. Late afternoon light streamed from a bay window into a cozy living area. It stretched across the space, illuminating where they now stood in the kitchen.

Uncle was flashing Katara his best grin, and Zuko had to suppress a small one of his own.

A high-pitched mewl sounded from the bedroom before a light patter of feet approached Uncle, and Zuko watched him bend down to scratch the head of a small gray cat. Katara gasped and knelt down next to him, beaming.

"This is Mushi," Uncle announced, his chest swelling with pride. The cat sniffed at Katara's fingers before pushing its head gently against them.

A memory of Uncle's red, swollen face as an Earth Kingdom woman slathered him with ointment swam in Zuko's mind. He smirked. "Mushi? Nice name."

The older man chuckled. "Well I would sure hope you think so. You're the one who named him."

Zuko shifted uncomfortably. From the corner of his eye, he saw Katara straighten. The chuckle died in Uncle's throat, and he quickly added, "Though I suppose it wasn't you who named him, was it?"

There it was. The subtle shift in the air that told Zuko the time for small talk was over. Uncle sighed and gestured for them to sit at the small table in the center of the space. Katara led the way, Mushi trailing after her.

Uncle put the kettle on before turning to face them from his place by the stove. His brows inched up a fraction as he looked between them. Katara had moved her chair to sit as far from Zuko as the table would allow.

"So, Miss Katara. I understand you and my nephew are experiencing a similar predicament," Uncle said after a few moments of silence.

She nodded and, apparently feeling Zuko's eyes on her, scowled in his direction.

If Uncle noticed this, he did not say. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself? Where are you from?" As he spoke, he began opening cupboards, retrieving cups, and bringing them to the table. He removed the kettle from the stove and poured the steaming golden liquid into the cups, pushing one each toward them.

"I'm from the Southern Water Tribe," she stated proudly, nodding her thanks to Uncle as she took hold of her teacup.

"Ah, yes, Zuko did mention the Water Tribes."

"Did he, now?"

Zuko squeezed his eyes shut. The venom in her tone was thinly-veiled, but Uncle went on like he hadn't heard it. "Yes. I can't imagine living in the South Pole." He gave an exaggerated shiver. "It must be very beautiful."

She gave him a shaky smile. "Yes. It is."

He seemed to hesitate slightly before asking his next question. "And can you, um, use any of the elements?"

Her smile transformed into something closer to a smirk. Instead of answering, she streamed the tea from her cup, looping it over the table, around Uncle's head. Then she bent it back into her cup and froze it in place. Zuko shuddered at several memories of Katara using her waterbending for less amiable purposes.

Uncle's eyes widened. "Incredible! I suppose I should have put the pieces together when you said you were from the Water Tribe." He frowned. "But, now your tea will be cold. Let me get you a new cup." He made to stand.

Zuko sighed and reached for the cup. He blew steam over it until the ice had melted, and the tea was once again hot. Katara shot him an unreadable look but said nothing.

Uncle chuckled lightly, shaking his head as he sat back down. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

They sat in not-quite-companionable silence for several minutes. Mushi decided his new napping place would be Katara's lap, and Zuko watched as he spun in several circles before settling down to curl up against her.

"And how did you come to meet my nephew?" asked Uncle at last.

"We met in Ba Sing Se, the Earth Kingdom capital," Zuko inserted quickly. He met Katara's icy gaze, eyes pleading. Her silence urged him on. "Uncle, I was working for you in your tea shop there."

Whatever suspicion that had crossed the other man's expression at their interaction dissipated upon hearing those last words, and a broad grin stretched his face. "Some things never change, eh?"

And suddenly, all Zuko could see was the image of his uncle rotting in a prison cell. Because Zuko made his choice. And to his horror, he felt the overwhelming urge to cry, to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness. But he didn't, and Uncle had turned his attention back to Katara.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but the Earth Kingdom capital is far away from the South Pole, no? What brought you so far from home?"

"My brother and I were traveling with the Avatar. He's—"

"The Avatar? Is that the person who can use all of the elements?" interrupted Uncle. There was an unmistakable fascination coloring his tone.

She nodded, and Zuko felt her eyes on him. He didn't look up from the small chip in the wood of the table he had been examining, the image of the dank prison cell still haunting his consciousness.

Katara continued. "He's supposed to end the war by stopping the Fire Lord from taking over the Earth Kingdom, and he has the best chance of doing that during a solar eclipse. There is going to be one in a week. That's why I have to get out of your reality right away to help him save mine."

Zuko glanced up briefly to read his uncle's expression, which had morphed into one of confusion. "Why does he need an eclipse to end the war?"

"Because firebenders lose their bending during solar eclipses. It will leave the Fire Lord vulnerable."

The others started when Zuko suddenly spoke. "Except that it won't, because the Fire Nation already knows about your attack plans," he said in exasperation. Did she really need that reminder?

"Not if I can get back in time for them to change the plans!"

"It won't matter! You think Azu—you think the Fire Nation hasn't anticipated every possible change of plans?"

Mushi gave an indignant yowl as Katara shot to her feet, glaring down at Zuko.

Uncle put a placating hand on the waterbender's wrist before turning a level gaze on his nephew. "You seem to have quite a lot of information about the Fire Nation's war strategy."

No, no, no. He'd slipped again. He could feel the color drain from his face as he glanced desperately between his uncle and Katara.

The latter seemed to register his panicked expression, however. She appeared to compose herself as she sat back down, taking a large gulp of her tea. "Everyone knows the Fire Lord's daughter is a strategic genius. She's almost always one step ahead of her enemies. Zuko is just being pessimistic. Right, Zuko?"

Her blue eyes bore into his. He hoped that the furtive look he responded with adequately conveyed the intense gratitude he felt toward her at that moment. He swallowed and nodded meekly.

"But I'm confident Aang will defeat the Fire Lord," Katara added. "As long as I get out of here as soon as possible."

Uncle glanced between them, a furrow in his brow, before he nodded. "And you're hoping I may be able to help you with that?"

"Yes. Do you know of any place here that might somehow be connected to the Spirit World?"

Zuko exhaled, thankful that Katara had decided to continue doing the talking. Uncle seemed a bit thrown by the question, however. "Well, here we have a lot of definitions of what a spiritual place might be. I can't say that I know of a place that I would consider universally sacred."

Katara's face fell, and Uncle seemed to notice because he continued rather hastily. "I would recommend starting by visiting some of the temples and monasteries outside the city. I myself have never been, but I've heard good things from my more spiritually inclined friends. I believe the nearest one is about an hour and half's drive."

Her head snapped up. "Drive?" Zuko had no idea what that meant, but the fearful look in Katara's eyes told him that she did.

Uncle absorbed her tone and smiled gently. "I'm sure a northbound train would get you close enough." With that, he poured more tea in his and Katara's cups. He stopped short and made a face upon noticing Zuko's, which had gone untouched.

"Zuko, you've been quiet. I was under the impression you'd have a lot of questions about your life here."

Both sets of eyes were on him now. In truth, he'd had about a million questions he had wanted to ask Uncle. But Katara's single-minded determination to escape…

"Surely you're curious about all of this." Uncle gestured widely with his arms. He gave Katara an apologetic glance. "I regret that I might not be able to help you as much as I'd like to with your plans for getting back home. But," he turned back to Zuko, "I might be able to help you make your time here a little more comfortable and a little less confusing. Away from prying eyes." He gave Zuko a pointed look at those last words.

Indeed, Uncle had helped Zuko immensely over the last few days with some of the more technical aspects of the other Zuko's life here. But they had been careful not to discuss anything more than that with Lu Ten's imminent arrival in the tea shop each morning. He wondered once more why Uncle had yet to ask him the question he so dreaded.

But his own curiosity outweighed that dread, at least for now. Zuko recalled what the woman on the street had said to him the other day, and he couldn't take it anymore. He had to know. "Where is my father?"

Katara felt her eyes bug out of her head. It took every ounce of her strength not to burst out laughing. Fire Lord Ozai? An actor?

"A rather successful one, actually. He's in the city right now doing a limited-run play. I tried to get tickets, but it was sold out," Iroh continued. Zuko looked decidedly unamused but was otherwise silent.

"But he's your brother. Could he not have just given you tickets if you asked?" supplied Katara.

Zuko scoffed. "You obviously don't know my father."

Iroh nodded thoughtfully. "It sounds like your experiences with my brother aren't too far off from your…counterpart's."

The firebender flinched. It didn't slip Katara's notice when he—seemingly unconsciously—reached up to palm the left side of his face. She suddenly felt nauseous.

He licked his lips, and his voice wavered just slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, none of you are on speaking terms with Ozai. Except maybe Azula, but I don't think it's more than birthday texts and Father's Day cards."

Zuko had gone very still. "By 'none of us', you mean…"

"You, your mother, and your sister," answered Iroh. "Especially once the divorce went through, and Ursa got custody. Ozai was given visitation rights, but once his career took off and he moved out west…" he trailed off when he saw the look on his nephew's face.

He appeared to be staring right through his uncle. His hands were clenched tightly on his thighs, and he was visibly shaking. Tears had begun leaking from his eyes, though Katara was sure he didn't notice, as he made no moves to wipe them away.

"My mother. Where is she?" he said thickly.

Iroh moved his chair closer to Zuko's and hesitantly draped an arm around his shoulders. "She and Azula live right across the river. I'm sure they'd love it if you paid them a visit."

Katara couldn't help the small gasp that escaped her lips. That seemed to snap Zuko back into himself. "Azula?"

"Yes, it's my understanding that she is living at home to save money. She commutes into the city for university."

No one spoke for several minutes. Zuko appeared to be putting all of his mental efforts into processing the information as he stared into his teacup. Iroh looked to Katara for help, but she was as lost as he was. Why he thought she would know how to handle Zuko's feelings was a mystery to her. Had her distaste for him not been obvious?

Mushi returned to the table, then, and Katara reached down absently to give him a scratch on the ears. He purred loudly in contentment.

"What about Mai?" Zuko said at last with a carefully measured calm. He used his shirt to scrub the evidence of his earlier reaction from his face. This was not at all what Katara had expected him to say. Does he mean the girl with the knives?

Iroh clearly hadn't anticipated the question, either. "Mai?"

"She's my, uh, girlfriend." He shot Katara a brief glance as he said it. Is that…guilt?

Realization dawned in Iroh's expression, and Katara was reminded of Sokka's days playing detective at Chin Village. His mouth had formed a small 'o' as he pointed between Zuko and Katara. Mystery solved. Just how well did he think Zuko and I know each other?

He quickly recovered. "I'm afraid I don't know a Mai. Does she have a last name?"

Zuko shook his head, and Katara could see it solidifying in his expression. Yes, definitely guilt. She briefly attempted to imagine Zuko and the knife girl together, but her brain couldn't quite picture it.

Noting the look of confusion that had crossed Iroh's face, she jumped in to explain. "Not very many people have last names where we're from."

"What? How are you able to find anyone? Surely, you two aren't the only Zuko and Katara out there," he said with a chuckle.

She hadn't ever really thought of it that way, but Katara was reasonably certain that she was the only Katara out there. The look that Zuko gave her told her the same thought had entered his mind. They both shrugged.

"So, you and the knife girl, huh?" Katara couldn't help her smug tone.

Zuko bristled at the nickname. "They're called stilettos."

"Whatever." Katara took in his somehow even gloomier demeanor but resisted asking the next question on her mind.

However, she didn't need to resist any longer because Zuko spoke again. "I left her without saying goodbye. I didn't think I'd be gone for very long."

She took a moment to absorb his words and tried not to think about how long they had truly been gone. When did Zuko have time to get a girlfriend between Ba Sing Se and now? It was almost comforting to focus on something so trivial as the prince's love life. It gave her momentary respite from her problems.

"How long have you known her?" The question slipped out before she could stop herself.

He seemed as surprised by her probing as she was. "Since we were kids. We were together before—before I left the Fire Nation." His eyes shifted toward Iroh as he said it. Katara had momentarily forgotten the other man's presence. He said nothing, though, and seemed suspiciously invested in their conversation.

"So all of those years you were…traveling. You had someone waiting for you at home? Must've been some reunion."

The words brought a furrow to his brow. "Um…yeah, I guess." He suddenly looked deep in thought.

And then Katara realized that she was actually having this discussion with Zuko when so much else was at stake—in front of his uncle, no less. Said uncle was now openly smirking at them. Focus, Katara.

Zuko, too, seemed to realize the absurdity of their conversation in the context of their current situation, because he was the next one to break the silence. "I want to try something." His gaze found something in the living room. Katara watched in confusion as he abruptly stood to make his way toward whatever it was.

However, she realized what he was doing when he returned to the table, holding a small candle.

With a snap, a small flame appeared on his pointer finger. He used it to set the wick alight. "Uncle, there's one thing I haven't told you." Katara felt her mouth twitch up slightly. One thing?

She turned to Iroh, who was looking between his nephew and the candle with puzzlement. Though there was a glimmer of something else in his eyes. Maybe he could sense Zuko's dishonesty in those last words.

"Firebending runs in my family," Zuko continued. Ha. It sure does.

It took several seconds for the other man to register his words. Then, he was gesturing to himself with wide, questioning eyes. Zuko gave him a curt nod.

"I'm fairly certain I can't shoot fire out of my hands, Zuko."

"That's because no one has ever taught you how to do it," stated the firebender confidently. Observing the skepticism etched into Iroh's face, Katara wasn't entirely sure she shared that confidence.

"Just focus all of your concentration on the flame, and take deep breaths. Firebending comes from the breath." At that, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

Iroh looked doubtful, but did as his nephew asked. As he began the breathing exercise, Zuko continued to speak quiet encouragements. "Good. Feel the fire move with your chi, in time with your breath. Make the flame grow."

Iroh continued to humor his nephew for several minutes. As far as Katara could tell, the fire had not changed. Zuko seemed determined, however. There was uncharacteristic patience emanating from him as he continued attempting to coax his uncle's bending ability.

Katara had long since excused herself to go play with Mushi in the living area when she finally heard Zuko's defeated sigh. Smiling sadly at the cat's disappointed mew at her departure, she made her way back to the table. The only indication of how much time had passed was the state of the candle. It had burned almost all the way down.

Zuko, true to form, appeared frustrated, running his hands roughly through his hair. Iroh just seemed tired. He smiled ruefully at Katara. "I thought I saw the flame flicker once or twice." Zuko's answering groan told her that had not been the case.

Katara tried in vain to hide her disappointment. She hadn't realized until then that so much of her hope had been riding on the slim possibility that there were other benders in this place. Were she and Zuko truly alone, then?

Not entirely, she supposed. Iroh was a kind man, and he had done what he could to help…but she had a feeling those temples he mentioned would not be enough. She let out a small sigh. It was a start and seeing as they were back at square one, a start was the best she could ask for.

Iroh's voice broke her out of her thoughts. "Would you two like to stay for dinner? I'm making pork and green chile stew." She could hear the unspoken apology beneath the words, see the despondency in his eyes. Here was a man who would do whatever it took to solve his nephew's problems.

Zuko's silence was deafening. He was evidently as disheartened as Katara felt. She spoke for them both. "Thank you, but I think we should get going." Zuko stood from the table, then, affirming her words.

"I understand. You have much to discuss." Do we? Katara, truthfully, didn't feel that they had reaped many benefits from their visit. Well, she hadn't. Zuko's pensive behavior regarding the information about his family was cause for concern. They needed to focus.

But she found herself unable to entirely blame him. Even she was a little curious. A flurry of new questions had floated to her mind at the mention of Zuko's …tumultous relationship with the Fire Lord. And his mother…

She shook the thoughts away and moved toward the door, Zuko on her heels. Iroh met them there. "Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you while you're here. I'm sure you're overwhelmed, and I want to help you in whatever way I can," he said sincerely.

Katara grinned. Then, she remembered something he could help with, and her smile turned sheepish. "Actually, I did have one question." He nodded enthusiastically.

"How would one go about paying the rent due on Friday?"

They walked in silence. The sun had begun to set behind the massive buildings looming in the distance, casting the quiet street in a golden glow.

"You certainly learned a lot today," Katara murmured. Zuko wasn't sure how to respond to that. He settled on nodding.

Dissatisfied, she went on. "Don't forget that this isn't your life. There's no time for family reunions."

Part of Zuko wished that this was his life. If he couldn't have his father's acceptance, either way, he would rather live in a world where he had his mother. And Azula? He tried to imagine who she would be without Ozai's influence. He could find Mai, and—

Mai. She had been such an afterthought. What was wrong with him? Katara's words from earlier swirled in his mind. Must have been some reunion. He had to suppress a bitter laugh.

He wanted to tell Katara that it didn't matter what they did. Whatever happened in their world was going to happen, whether she and Zuko were there for it or not. The Avatar was going to challenge the Fire Lord with or without her help, and for all she knew, the eclipse had long passed. He wanted to tell her how desperately he needed to see his mother. That she would regret not seeing her own mother.

But he remained silent, too exhausted to start with her.

Evidently determined to get a rise out of him, Katara kept talking. "I still don't understand why you're so adamant about not telling your uncle who your family is. You can tell him that your dad is the Fire Lord without mentioning your cousin."

He continued to steadfastly ignore her as they rounded the corner of their street. She knew perfectly well why he couldn't do that.

"It's almost like you're ashamed of your family. Wonder why that would be?"

He dropped the keys he had been fumbling with at the front door. A puff of steam—no, actual fire—involuntarily blew from his nostrils. "I'm not doing this with you right now."

For a moment, she looked ready to retaliate but seemed to think better of it. Her eyes softened. She bent down to pick up the keys and unlocked the door without another word.

The climb up the stairs felt much more prolonged and steeper than it usually did. When they finally stepped into the small studio, Zuko made a beeline for the futon. To his immense relief, Katara made no moves to press him further. He half-listened to the sounds of clinking dishes as she shuffled around the kitchen, presumably making herself a quick dinner.

Just before the noise lulled him completely to sleep, she spoke softly once more—though Zuko thought he might have dreamt it.

"Did your father give you that scar?"

AN: I'm so sorry for the delay on this. Moving has been an absolute nightmare. I'm hoping to get on a more regular update schedule soon, but I can't make any promises just yet while I finish unpacking!

This chapter took a lot of reworking and I'm honestly a little disappointed with how it turned out, but I hope it was at least worth the wait. Let me know what you think in the comments or just drop in and say hi! I'd love to hear from you.

Thanks so much once again to all of those who have reviewed and followed. Special thanks to those of you who have left a review every update! It truly means so much to me.