"Breathe in, run fingers over scarred skin. Let the guilt rain down all over me,

try to justify my hypocrisy, and breathe out." Colorblind, Movements

Xx

"Ahg!"

Zuko wakes up with a shout, bolting upright in his bed, chest heaving and sheets saturated with sweat. He has been plagued by nightmares for years now, but in the days since leaving the South Pole, they've been getting worse. Visions of Ozai burning him alive for failing to capture the avatar, flashbacks of his mother enduring abuse at the hands of his father, and endless oceans that seem to drop off the edge of the world into the black emptiness of space hover in his mind, residual fear coursing through him in the minutes after he awakens. He runs his hand through his damp hair, pushing it up and off of his face, brushing his scar. His hand comes back down to properly touch it; he has memorized each ridge and fold of his scar as if it was a map and he could somehow find his destination by running his hands along it enough times. That memory is by far the most frequent in his nightmares— the shame, terror, and heat bleeding through his sleep and following him like a shadow into his waking life.

With a grunt, he tosses the damp sheets back and gets up. There's no use in wallowing in self pity— if he's up, he might as well be productive. He throws on an open vest, not bothering with shoes, before he heads down to the deck of his ship. He emerges into the salty air, the smell a small comfort to him, and breathes it in, imagining the scent and the calm of the morning seeping into his bones. He will always be a firebender, but the ocean has become a friend to him over the years, the tangy smell and deep blue comfort something that Zuko has grown to love. The sun has not yet risen, but its light washes over the horizon line in shades of brilliant pink and orange. He steps out onto the empty deck, folds into a lotus position, and tries his best to clear his mind.

By the time he opens his eyes, the residual fear of his nightmare has faded away with the darkness of night, replaced by the warm glow of the sun, it's tendrils of light reaching to caress his face. Pulling off his vest and tossing it to the side as he stands, he positions himself in a wide stance, and goes through his firebending katas. With seven years and an inordinate amount of free time, Zuko has been lucky to be able to find some solace in his firebending. The routine of his katas and the feel of his muscles warming with the grace of Agni grounds him like nothing else (he tries desperately not to think of Katara's cool hands in his and be mindful of his bending).

It's much later in the day when his uncle emerges onto the deck, bringing with him a hot breakfast for himself and Zuko. Iroh knows Zuko's routine by now, and anticipates him being out and practicing his forms well before the old man's body even considers waking up. Zuko sees his uncle and finishes him form, bringing his hands down, palms flat, in front of him as he lets out a deep breath. Iroh meets him halfway holding out his breakfast, and not for the first time Zuko is struck with how lucky he is that his uncle decided to come with him all those years ago. He had thrown away any chance of a normal life, all to accompany an angry and traumatized thirteen year old on an impossible quest, and Zuko will never quite know how to thank him. They eat in silence as someone brings out Iroh's tea set, only turning to sit once their breakfast bowls are empty. Iroh begins to meticulously brew the tea; Zuko's mind bounces back to the unrefined tea that Kanna had made for him.

"Nephew..."

Zuko dreads the moment each morning when the silence of the early hours is broken. Not that he doesn't love his uncle— it doesn't matter who breaks the silence, even if it is him. But he finds a small comfort in the quiet; he can hide in the soundless morning, the calm of the day wrapping around him, making him feel safe. Zuko has found that once people start talking, things usually end up going sideways for him.

"We must stop to make repairs to the ship. The storm damaged the hull significantly, and we will not be able to continue without having it worked on."

"Fine." Zuko sips at the hot tea Iroh hands him, savoring the warmth as it slides down his throat. "We'll dock at the next available port and have them start the repairs. Is there lavender in this?"

His uncle smiles. "Yes! It is a lovely blend of chamomile and lavender. You are beginning to get good at this, nephew!"

Zuko allows a small amount of pride to show through the smile on his face. Iroh is the closest thing he's ever known to a father, and every time he receives his uncle's praise, it makes Zuko's heart just a little lighter. Plus, he brews enough tea that after seven years, Zuko is relieved he is finally beginning to remember some of the blends that he likes.

"Took me long enough." His uncle lets out a deep laugh that emanates from his large belly, causing Zuko to chuckle as well. Maybe today won't be so terrible.

Xx

Scratch that; today will absolutely be terrible.

Zuko knows this for sure when they pull into port a handful of hours later, and the large ship that dwarfs his is uncomfortably familiar.

"Fuck," he swears under his breath when he sees it; the red flag bearing the Fire Nation's ensignia blowing proudly in the gente breeze, a smaller flag below it signifying the ship as one in Captain Zhao's fleet.

"Normally I would admonish you for your language." Iroh has stepped up beside him and is peering up at the giant ship as well. "But in this circumstance, I believe it is warranted."

The two men step off the ship onto the dock, walking tall and proud as if Zuko had never been banished from the fire nation and branded an unhonorable disgrace to his family. He's learned well how to hide his disdain towards his unique circumstances when in the face of higher ups; it wouldn't do to have military personnel reporting that he was sulking around the globe in a pathetic search for the Avatar to his father. Even if it felt like that was exactly what he was doing.

"I wonder when he'll show up." No sooner than the words leave Zuko's lips do they see Captain Zhao strutting down the dock towards them. He lets out a small groan. "Speak of the devil."

"And he shall appear." Iroh finishes the idiom, sounding just as excited to see Zhao as Zuko feels. (He is about as excited to see Zhao as he was when he once had to carry his uncle home, half naked, from a bar after he had imbibed too many drinks. So, in short, not excited in the least).

"Captain Zhao!" His uncle has morphed his voice into something almost chipper, making Zuko envy his ability to conceal his emotions even more than he usually does.

"It's Commander now." Zhao's haughty voice grates on Zuko's ears as he does his best not to grimace. "What a surprise, seeing Prince—" the word has a rude inflection to it, and Zuko narrows his eyes— "Zuko and General Iroh here at my port. What brings you here?"

"Our ship needs repairs." Zuko gestures back toward the ship looking worse for wear floating in the dock. "We got caught in a storm and took some damage."

"Well, why don't you come have something to eat while you wait for the repairs to be finished?" A predatory smirk crosses Zhao's face, making Zuko think he'd rather jump back into the freezing polar sea than share a meal with the man. "I'm sure you have an incredible story to tell based on the damage to your ship."

Zuko shoots a sideways glare at his uncle (please don't make me do this, I swear to Agni—).

"That sounds wonderful! Do you have any jasmine tea?"

Iroh and Zhao begin to walk away from the dock as smoke plumes out of Zuko's nose in frustration. He finds a dock worker on his way to catch up and pulls them close to him.

"I want the repairs done on that ship as fast as possible." The dock worker nods, skittering off to relay the message to the repairmen. The faster they get this meal over with, the better.

Xx

"Forgive me for asking, Prince Zuko..." Zhao's tone suggests that he doesn't care about Zuko's forgiveness any more than he cares about the ants under his boot. "But why were you all the way in the South Pole?"

Zuko has his arms crossed defensively in front of him. "Why do you think?" He keeps his voice level, trying to keep his inner angry teenager quiet. The way Zhao smirks makes it incredibly difficult, and he has to take a discrete deep breath.

"Still searching for the Avatar? I don't suppose you've found anything interesting recently, have you?"

Zuko is grateful for all the late night card games his uncle has dragged him into over the years (apparently Iroh had been right when he had told Zuko that he'd thank him some day). The capability to keep a perfectly straight face is exactly what he needs right now to throw Zhao off of the Avatar's trail (his trail, he reminds himself).

"No." The shortness of his answer should convey to Zhao that the conversation is over, but he is an arrogant man, and continues on anyway.

"Hm. Did you know that only a few days ago, statues of past Avatars all over the world had their eyes light up at the same time?" Zuko's heart speeds up a fraction, but his face portrays nothing, as still as stone.

"I did not. I tend not to keep statues of the one person that could topple the Fire Nation's empire at my bedside." His words have the desired effect, and a tiny smirk slides onto his face when Zhao's brows furrow in frustration.

"Commander." A soldier enters the tent that they are seated in, seeming to have no problem interrupting his commanding officer and his conversation with royalty. "We interrogated the crew. They have no new intel on the Avatar." A sense of accomplishment comes over Zuko; he had told no one but his uncle about the Avatar, and it seems that his decision has paid off.

"Fine." The only word Zuko can think of to describe Zhao's face is grumpy; he has to use all of his resolve to keep from outright smiling at the commander's upset.

"You don't trust us, commander?" Zuko stands up, deciding that this meeting is over. "That hurts." His voice is soaked in sarcasm, Zhao positively seething at his attitude.

"I'm on to you, Prince Zuko," he snarls the last two words as Zuko passes him. He makes sure to bump Zhao's shoulder when he walks by, and says nothing.

"Thanks for the tea!" His uncle calls out behind them as they make their way back down to the ship to check on the status of the repairs.

Xx

Two days later is when he first sees it. He wasn't expecting to run into the Avatar and his friends so quickly, but as a large, fluffy animal flies towards Kyoshi Island in the distance, Zuko knows it's them.

"Who else would have a giant flying monster with them?" He has coaxed the crew into high gear in order to get to Kyoshi Island as quickly as possible. It will still take a while, and they will be lucky to get there before nightfall, but he won't pass up this opportunity.

"Prince Zuko..." His uncle stands behind him on the prow, hands folded into his sleeves. "If it is indeed the Avatar, what do you plan on doing when you get to him?"

This is where Zuko has hit his mental roadblock. He has to capture the Avatar; it's the only way he can return home and regain his honor. But if he captures the Avatar and brings him to his father, it is most likely that Ozai will lock him (and his friends) away in a cell until he shrivels up with age like a prune that's been forgotten in the pantry. He owes the three of them a left debt, and the fate that awaits them in the hands of Ozai will not be a good one. The Fire Lord might even execute Katara and her brother (his stomach churns at the thought, and he takes a deep breath to keep his lunch down). He can feel his heart start to beat faster as anxiety threatens to overtake him. Recognising the signs, Iroh rests a heavy hand on Zuko's shoulder, bringing him back to the moment.

"I don't know, uncle." Zuko is honest in his answer. "I at least have to warm them about Zhao. That will repay my life debt, and then I will have a free conscience to capture the Avatar."

He knows it is a lie as the words slip past his lips, but he can't think about it right now. That's as solid a plan as any, and seeing as it's the only one he has, he has to stick to it. Iroh says nothing, but the unease rolling off of him in waves speaks volumes as to what his uncle is thinking. Zuko heads back inside, unable and unwilling to bear his uncle's disappointment any longer.