Zuko awoke the next morning to find that he was alone in the abandoned house. For a moment, he almost wondered if he had just been dreaming everything that had happened: the fight, the reunion, the lightning. Then he spotted his uncle's belongings stacked neatly in the corner, along with the wooden cup that still held the dregs of jasmine tea. So, it wasn't a dream.

He should have been happy. In truth, he was just exhausted.

Sighing, he pushed the blankets off his legs and stood up, stretching to ease the stiffness out of his limbs. He'd been too tired and overwhelmed last night to register that someone had stripped off most of his clothing. Now he stared at his bared skin in resignation. Obviously, his uncle's work. Zuko would have been more upset had he not sensed the necessity behind the action. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the wooden boards, letting him absorb into his body all of the energy contained within the golden streams.

It wasn't enough. Not at all.

He raised his hand and focussed his energy to create a ball of flames. It was like trying to get water out of a rock. The most he got was a tiny wisp of fire that fluttered like a ribbon before snuffing out. Sweat beaded his forehead. That had been … painful, to say the least, as if he were ripping his soul apart just trying to summon the power of his inner fire.

As if there was nothing left inside him but cold embers.

"I was afraid that this would happen."

Zuko spun around to see his uncle standing in the doorway, holding a bowl of congee. His expression was solemn.

"This is the reason you got chi deficiency the last time, isn't it?" Iroh said. "You had just healed the Avatar."

Zuko let his hand drop back to his side. "Yes."

"Well, then sunlight should return your bending to normal."

"I guess."

There was an awkward silence. In the past, his uncle would have been able to fill that pause with one of his silly, genial comments and the moment would have passed. Now the tension just lingered, uncomfortable and whispering of unspoken words.

Zuko's hands trembled. He turned the other way. "It doesn't matter now. What's done is done. I'm just glad you're o—"

"Don't be foolish." For the first time, Iroh sounded genuinely frustrated. "I appreciate what you did for me, Nephew, but healing my wound caused you to go unconscious for several hours and has significantly weakened your bending. This isn't something you can just brush aside."

"What was I supposed to do? You had been struck with lightning! You weren't moving! I could barely feel your heartbeat and—"

"You panicked. I know. I'm sorry I put you in that situation. I should have known better than to let my guard down. It is a mistake I will always regret, especially since I caused you so much pain."

Zuko swallowed. "I don't care about that. I just wanted you to be well."

Even if it still hurt to think that Iroh had abandoned him. Even if a part of him wondered if he would ever be able to fix the cracks that had splintered through his heart during their separation.

Iroh let out a soft breath. "Nephew, you don't understand. Every time you heal, you're gambling with your future. The Avatar told me that, thanks to the spiritual connection you share, he could feel your life energy dwindling when you healed me." He shook his head. "I know you're reckless, but the risks are too great when it comes to this form of bending. It's likely the intense draining effect is one of the reasons why fire healers were so rare in the past. Most of them probably shied from even using the technique."

A frown creased Zuko's brow. "What spiritual connection? What are you talking about?" He took a step closer. "And what do you mean that fire healers were rare in the past? Do you know something about my healing powers? Tell me!"

It was the whine of a child. Zuko didn't care. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams, as if a thousand screams of rage and pain were locked up inside him, trying to claw their way out of his chest. Everything had been ripped away from him: his home, his family, his memories, even the good feelings that had made him once trust this man implicitly. He'd tried his best to piece himself back together, to collect all the scattered parts of himself, but it wasn't enough. Nothing made sense any more. Everything was out of his control. He just wanted some real answers.

Zuko took another step forward, curling his fingers into his uncle's tunic. "Tell me."

Iroh closed his eyes. "I don't have all the answers. The only thing I know for certain is that your gift is both extremely rare and dangerous." He closed his hand around the one gripping his tunic and met Zuko's gaze. "Promise me that you won't heal any more. Not until we can find out the truth."

Zuko wrenched himself away, almost knocking the bowl of congee out of his uncle's hands. "You sound just like Mother."

"What?"

Zuko stared down at his shaking hands. "She told me to never use my bending for anything other than what my masters taught me." His voice hoarsened. "She knew. She'd always known. That was why she had Shizue watch me, because she was afraid." A shudder went through his body. "They thought ... they thought I was unnatural."

"No." Iroh placed the bowl of congee on the floor and moved closer, clasping Zuko's hands in his own. "Your mother loved you, Zuko. She was only trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" Zuko exclaimed, feeling the sting of tears burn his eyes. "I can heal people with my bending! I healed you! Maybe it does weaken me, but how did she even know that it would have that effect? It doesn't make sense!"

Iroh shook his head, more helpless than disagreeing.

Zuko pulled himself away. His whole body was trembling now. "Why doesn't anyone just tell me the truth?" he half-whispered. "I'm so tired of all these lies and secrets."

"The truth is not an easy burden to carry. Sometimes, it can even destroy us. That is why we, as humans, prefer to look at the shadows on the wall, glimpsing only echoes of what the sun might reveal."

"I don't want your proverbs. I just want to know the truth. What do you really know about my fire healing? What are you still keeping from me?"

Iroh spread his hands. "I did not come here to hide things from you. Believe me, all I want to do is help, but—"

"But what?"

Iroh just stared at him, trying to reason with him in silent words. You are not ready for this, those eyes seemed to say. I don't want to hurt you.

Zuko refused to back down. He was done running.

Iroh must have sensed his resolve, for he exhaled in a resigned sort of way and sat down on the floor. "I did not lie when I said I don't have all the answers. All I know is what has been passed down in the royal family archives, and that is corrupted at best. The rest are just whispers of truth that even time has not been able to destroy."

Zuko said nothing. He knelt on the hard floor, staring at his uncle with his hands clenched on his lap.

"You are a special kind of firebender that were once known as the Children of the Undying Fire. Exceptionally rare, but also exceptionally dangerous."

"What do you mean by dangerous?"

Iroh shrugged. "I'm not sure. All I know is that the royal family swore an oath many centuries ago to destroy the Children of the Undying Fire. Something must have happened, something that caused the Fire Nation to unite against the fire healers to wipe them out from existence."

"But why?" Zuko licked his dry lips. "Why would people want to hurt those like me? I mean, we can heal."

"I don't know. I wish I did." Iroh shook his head. "Too much time has passed since fire healers were an accepted part of our world. The truth has become corroded. Perhaps the fire healers themselves chose to become a lost part of history, sensing that it was the only way they could survive. Either way, it would not be wise for you to broadcast your talents. You never know who might recognise you for what you are."

Zuko let out a breath. "I still don't understand. Why would fire healers be such a threat?"

"Why would Fire Lord Sozin wipe out an entire nation of airbenders just to end the Avatar cycle?" Iroh shook his head. "People do terrible things when they feel threatened. No doubt the Fire Lord of that time felt the same way as your great grandfather."

Zuko opened his mouth to argue, to repeat all of the propaganda he had been taught as a child as to why the fight against the Air Nomads had been justified. Then he thought of the sanctuary hidden beneath the banyan tree; he thought of all those children who had been forced to hide and, in the process, who had lost their bending. He realised that he had stopped believing in those words a long time ago.

His shoulders slumped and he stared at the ground. "What am I supposed to do? I can't control my healing powers. I don't even know how I trigger them. It just happens."

Iroh placed his hand over Zuko's trembling fists. "We will figure something out. In the meantime, you just focus on getting plenty of sunlight. You're going to need all of your strength."

Zuko's mouth tilted downwards. "I know. Azula will be back."

It hurt just to think about it. His own sister had viciously attacked them. The little girl who had worried about him when she had seen him climbing on rooftops was no more. In her place was a cold, calculating warrior who would never compromise for the sake of compassion.

Just like that day.

"Don't worry, Zuzu. I just want to see how your fire works."

A twinge of pain lanced through his mind. He hissed and rubbed at his temples.

"Something wrong?" Iroh asked, glancing at him in concern.

"It's just a lingering effect from when I lost my memories. Sometimes, I get sharp pains in my head when a new memory comes back or I can't fully recall something."

Iroh's eyes widened. "Do you mean to tell me that you are still experiencing amnesia?"

Zuko gave a helpless shrug. "I'm not sure. It feels like there are still bits and pieces of my life missing, but—"

Arms suddenly pulled him into a warm embrace. "I'm so sorry, Zuko. This is my fault. I should have been at your side. I should have been there to protect you."

Zuko said nothing. He wanted to pull away from his uncle. He wanted to draw closer. Instead, he just sat there like carved stone.

"We will fix this," Iroh promised, pulling away to meet his eyes. "The young waterbender travelling with the Avatar is a healer. She should be able to heal sicknesses of the mind as well. There may be a way to retrieve all of your memories."

Zuko averted his gaze. "Maybe."

He would never admit it, but a part of him was still afraid. Whatever memories he had yet to recover, he sensed that they were the most wounding, most emotionally damaging parts of his past. If anything was worse than his own father burning and banishing him, he wasn't sure that he really wanted to know.

Iroh smiled at him. "Trust me, Nephew. Everything is going to be alright."

Zuko nodded, more because he didn't want to continue the conversation than because he agreed. He was too tired to explain his feelings, too tired to even begin unravelling what he really felt. It was easier to stay silent and go along with what his uncle was saying. His mind was reeling with information and emotions. He needed time to process everything. It was time to change the subject.

His gaze settled on the bowl of congee. "Breakfast?" he asked.

"Courtesy of Master Katara," Iroh said, handing him the bowl. "She was up early preparing food for everyone."

A reluctant smile curved Zuko's mouth. That sounded like Katara: always ready to be the mum of the group. She'd even tried to mother him when he had travelled with them as Lee. "Give her my thanks," he said softly.

Iroh hauled himself to his feet with a groan. "Tell her yourself. She's just outside cleaning the dishes."

"I doubt she'd want to talk to me."

"Well, you won't know until you try." Iroh smiled. "Give her a chance. Who knows? Perhaps she will surprise you."

Zuko just stared at the ground. Maybe. Maybe not.

"It's the least you can do," Iroh said gently. "These people reached out to you when you had no one else. Don't be so quick to turn your back on them now just because you've remembered that you're supposed to be enemies."

Zuko frowned at his hands. Did he still think they were enemies? Certainly he was upset with the Avatar for all the lies the boy had fed him while he'd had amnesia, but Katara and Sokka ...

He raised his head, but his uncle had already gone. Frowning, he stared at the open doorway to where he could see a glimpse of the dusty road where he and Azula had fought. If he listened closely, he could hear the sound of wooden bowls clinking together and the faint slosh of waterbending. His stomach twisted, even as a sliver of uncertainty slid down his spine. Aang, Sokka, Katara—he had travelled with them as an ally while wearing the mask of the Blue Spirit. It had been easy to talk to them then, back when he had been unaware of his identity.

But now…

Now there was no mask. Now he was just Zuko, the banished prince of the Fire Nation. Now he didn't know what he wanted, let alone how he was supposed to speak to those he had called his enemies.

A sigh escaped his lips. He picked up the wooden spoon and slowly started digging his way into the congee. Katara had prepared the food with her own hands. She had made enough so that he and his uncle would also have a share in the meal. Surely that meant something?

"Give her a chance. Who knows? Perhaps she will surprise you."

Zuko frowned and placed the half-finished bowl aside. He knelt by the pile of clothes on the floor and slipped on the loose, black pants he had been wearing yesterday, though he didn't bother to pull on his boots. Chi deficiency or not, he was not going to wander around in his undergarments.

Satisfied that his modesty was still somewhat intact, he picked up the bowl of congee and left the rundown building. The street was quiet, though he could see scorch marks on the road and abandoned houses from the previous day's struggle. Not far from the house where he had rested, he found Katara kneeling by what looked like the remnants of a campfire. A pot and a few dishes were stacked up next to her, along with a bucket of water. His uncle was nowhere to be seen.

Zuko hesitated on the porch. She hadn't noticed his presence yet, too busy scrubbing one of the wooden bowls. The pendant hanging around her throat gleamed in the sun, glinting like a sapphire against her skin. Well, at least he understood now why he had recognised her necklace during their retreat from Omashu. After all, he had kept it tied around his wrist, planning to use it as a tool to capture the Avatar.

Don't kid yourself, his inner voice mocked. This girl isn't going to want to talk to you. Why should she when you still refuse to speak to the Avatar? You think you deserve any better after everything you have done?

Zuko sighed and turned to go back in the house. Suddenly, Katara raised her head and stared straight at him. His eyes widened. Damn, he'd been seen.

For a moment, neither of them moved. He swallowed, conscious of the sudden dryness in his throat. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, not sure if he was about to be pushed off or pulled to safety. Every bad thing he had ever done to this girl flashed before his mind: the kidnapping, the attack on her village, the fight in the Spirit Oasis. On and on it went, twisting his heart into a lump of guilt. However, for all their unhappy history together, he couldn't help but recall the kinder memories they had created back when he'd just been a boy named Lee. He saw a girl trying to teach a masked warrior how to waterbend, a girl healing his bruises and scolding him because he insisted on carrying his burdens without her assistance.

A girl who had tried so hard to be his friend.

Zuko let out a small breath and walked towards her. "Um, I just wanted to say thanks for the food." He held up the bowl of congee. "Uncle said you were the one who made it."

Katara stared at him with her big, blue eyes. It was like looking into the gaze of the ocean: an endless blue that could swallow him whole or help carry him to shore. He realised that he was nervous. Somehow, for whatever reason, there was a part of him that didn't want her to hate him again. Not after she had cared for him so sincerely when he had worn the mask.

Spirits, he was pathetic.

She lowered her gaze to the bucket of water near her feet. "It's just a bit of congee," she said in a voice that sounded too even to be natural. "I would have done that for anyone."

Something heavy settled in his stomach. "Right."

The silence lingered between them, awkward and uncomfortable. Zuko tried not to feel bitter. He knew that he had no right to expect anything from her. After all, she had no ties to him, only a phantom named Lee who didn't actually exist. No doubt Sokka would be the same. Those memories of silly sword fights and a girl with caring hands were nothing more than a passing dream from a life Zuko could not recapture.

He exhaled and averted his face. "Right," he repeated. "Well, I guess I'll just go then."

He turned and walked back towards the rundown building. Never mind that the heaviness in his chest seemed to get worse with each step. It was better this way, right? He still had so much he needed to figure out. He didn't have time to be sentimental or worry about what would happen to the little gang who had taken him in as one of their own.

"Wait."

He paused and glanced over his shoulder.

She stood up, one hand clutching the pendant at her throat. "Did you ... did you really have no idea who you were back then? Back when you were travelling with us, I mean."

His eyes narrowed. "What, you think I was just making it up now that you know who I really am?" When she didn't respond, he let out a small laugh, though the sound was devoid of any amusement. "Well, I guess it's to be expected. I'm the enemy, right?"

She lowered her gaze. "Aang doesn't seem to think so. He told us all about how you helped him as the Blue Spirit, and that was when you still had your memories." Her brow furrowed. "He seems to think that you and Lee aren't all that different."

Zuko stared at her curiously. "What do you think?"

She gave a small shrug, still not meeting his gaze. "I don't know. You've always hunted us. It's hard for me to believe that you don't have a hidden agenda. For all I know, helping Aang could have just been some elaborate trick to get closer to him so you can capture him later."

Zuko was silent for a long moment. "You don't need to worry, Katara," he said in a low voice that was almost as empty as his laugh. "There is no secret agenda. Not anymore." He turned his back on her. "I have no interest in the Avatar."

She sucked in a sharp breath, no doubt shocked by his statement. "Is that true?" she demanded.

"My sole purpose for capturing the Avatar was to return home." He bowed his head so that his expression was veiled in shadow. "There's not much point doing that when I have nothing to go back to."

Without waiting for a response, he quickened his pace and retreated into the rundown building. His own words replayed in his mind, a revelation that even he had not expected. Somehow, somewhere, he had given up on catching the Avatar.

He had given up on returning home.

Zuko leaned against the wall, letting his head rest against the wood with a dull thud. There was no relief in the realisation that he could stop hunting the Avatar. He didn't feel like a burden had been lifted or that he had been liberated from the chains of filial duty. If anything, he just felt empty.

Three years. Three years of hunting and searching and hoping. And now there was nothing.

Zuko had never felt more lost.

Maybe it was because there was a part of him that sensed the truth. He remembered reading a silly story once about a man named Bon who accidentally broke the Fire Lord's favourite vase. Bon, fearing for his life, had tried his best to put the shattered pieces of porcelain back together so that the Fire Lord would not notice. He even enlisted the help of famous artisans, but it was no use. The cracks, however minuscule, had still shown through in the repaired vase.

Right now, Zuko felt like that vase. Sure, he had pieced his memories back together, but he was not the same person who had first set out to capture the Avatar. Part of that was the Avatar's fault, always so desperate to be his friend; however, the real damage had been done when he'd got amnesia. Becoming Lee had broken him in a way that could not be repaired. Not perfectly. He had lost something integral in the process, something that had once kept his drive to capture the Avatar and return home a burning obsession. It was a sad, empty truth. Not even a decision, really. He'd just stopped believing in his own justifications that there was a reason for him to return. Confronting Azula had only aggravated the problem.

Zuko slid to the ground and buried his face against his knees. Everything just seemed to be spiralling further and further out of his control. He thought that getting his memories back would make his path clearer, but his future seemed murkier than ever. Even reuniting with his uncle had left him aching and confused. It seemed like no matter which way he turned, he just hit another wall.

What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to do?

There seemed to be no path he could take. He was trapped between his own fractured identities, wondering who he was supposed to be and where he was supposed to go. A banished prince, a sword-wielding vigilante, a boy named Lee. He had been all of these people, but none of them could show him the path to take now. They were just shadows from his past. What he needed was a way to move forward.

He clenched his hands into fists. "Damn it," he cursed softly.

He didn't know where to begin.

He was so, so tired.