Two days had passed since the fight with Zhao on the riverbank. Zuko had tried to banish all memory of the event from his mind, knowing it would only distract him, but that was easier said than done. Teaming up with the Avatar again, however briefly, had been a bad idea. A good warrior knew to stay focussed. A good warrior knew not to let himself humanise his enemy, but Zuko seemed to have forgotten his training. Now, all sorts of complicated thoughts would infiltrate his mind. It didn't help that the kid had brought up the healing incident again.

Zuko stared at his palms, remembering the warmth that had connected him to that bleeding wound. Remembering how cold, empty and fragile he had felt afterwards. His healing powers had terrified him. Still did. It had taken almost five days for his bending to return to normal, and that was with being forced to absorb as much natural energy from the sun as possible. He didn't like to think of what would happen if he accidentally triggered the ability a second time. It wasn't as if he had sat down in front of the Avatar and thought to heal; the act itself had been instinctive. That worried him more than he cared to admit. What was he supposed to do when he had strange powers lurking inside of him that he couldn't control and which, when used, left him debilitated?

His hands trembled. He gripped his knees and closed his eyes, exhaling deeply as he forced his body into a state of calm. Breathe in and out, in and out. The four candles flickered on the meditation table in front of him, matching his breaths and uniting him with the flames. He could feel the fire, feel it merging with his inner flame and melting away all the messy tangles in his mind. He was warmth and light and all he had to do was breathe.

"You should know better than anyone that fire isn't just destruction."

"See, but that's the thing ... my master told me that it's impossible for fire to heal, yet you healed me, so I was just wondering how you—"

Zuko gritted his teeth. One of the candles stuttered violently, then went out with a curl of smoke. No. He would not dwell on those thoughts again. He would not let himself be suffocated by childish fears. It didn't matter if every scroll he had read on bending suggested that what he had done was impossible. He would focus on the fire, focus on the way it intensified and dimmed with each breath. In and out, in and out. That was it. Just breathe.

"There is something unusual about your son's method of calling upon his inner fire. I have tried to teach him the proper technique, but—"

"He has the eyes, Princess Ursa. If Prince Zuko should turn out to be—"

"We will have to watch him. Make sure he doesn't—"

"It's not natural. I saw the bruises and—"

"Never do that again, Zuko! Do you understand? Never do that again!"

"Fire is life."

The rest of the candles went out with a hiss. Zuko tightened his grip on his knees, keeping his eyes shut as darkness surrounded him. He remembered now. It was his mother who had spoken the words, the ones that had first triggered him to heal the Avatar. His firebending instructor, Master Mizuto, had been especially harsh with him that day, frustrated with his lack of progress in offensive firebending. Then his mother had caught him cradling a wounded turtle duck in his hands and had thought—well, she'd never actually told Zuko what she'd thought, only that it was wrong and that he should never do it again.

It was the first time his mother had truly lost her temper with him and the shock of seeing her like that, so angry and frightening, had made him run away in tears. Later, she had found him crying behind the big cherry tree. He had thought she was going to yell at him again, but she'd simply pulled him into her arms and apologised over and over. He had scared her, she had confessed. For a moment she had thought—well, it didn't matter what she had thought, but he must know that she still loved him and would never hurt him.

"But you must promise me, Zuko," she had said earnestly, pulling back from him to meet his eyes. "Promise me that you will never try to use your firebending for anything other than what your instructors teach you to do. Promise me that you will do exactly as they ask of you and no more."

"But—"

"No buts!"

Then she had hugged him close, smoothing a hand through his hair. "Fire is life, Zuko. You know this. You have always known this, but for the sake of your own you must ignore your instincts and do what I ask. You must listen to Master Mizuto and become the firebender that the Fire Nation expects you to be. Promise me!"

Tears had streamed down his cheeks as he had looked up into his mother's face. "I promise."

That was ten years ago. Back then, Zuko had not understood why his mother had been so afraid. Now, at the age of sixteen, he had his suspicions and none of them made him feel any better. Fragments of memory were slowly coming together. All the strange conversations he had overheard between his mother and Shizue, his mother's lady-in-waiting. All the wary looks Master Mizuto had cast his way when teaching him firebending and the way his mother had insisted that he had to learn how to become a powerful fighter, as if he could have been anything else.

"She had known," Zuko whispered. "Mum and Shizue, they had both known."

His stomach knotted and lurched. How could he have not seen it before? There was no reason for his mother to have got so upset at the sight of her six-year-old son holding a wounded turtle duck in his hands. No reason at all unless she had been afraid that he might heal it.

"He has the eyes, Princess Ursa."

Zuko brought the candles back to life with a flick of his wrist. A soft glow filled the cabin. Trembling all over, he stood up and walked to the cabinet to pick up the small mirror he used for shaving. Gold eyes stared back at him—not the rich amber like what his father, mother and sister had, not even the reddish brown like his uncle or the typical darker browns and greys seen in the Fire Nation. His eyes were gold. Pale gold.

Unnatural, his reflection hissed.

Zuko shoved the mirror face-down on the cabinet. His heart hammered against the walls of his ribs like a wounded sparrowkeet desperate to break free. Why had his mother not told him? Why had she been so afraid? What—what was wrong with him?

"It's because you're not normal, Zuzu. That's why Mother has Shizue watch you so closely. They both think you're a monster." An innocent smile. "Didn't you know?"

Zuko covered his face with his hands. That was a lie. Azula always lied. Mother had loved him. She had just been scared; she had told him so herself.

Of what? a small voice demanded. Why should she be afraid that you can heal? Healing helps people, but she told you it was wrong. She got angry at you just for holding a wounded turtle duck.

He shook his head, trying to banish the voices from his mind. Mother had loved him. She had always loved him. It was Azula who was the monster. Always Azula.

The door to his cabin opened and Zuko quickly dropped his hands from his face to see his uncle enter. Iroh had been smiling, but his good humour faded as soon as he took in his nephew's appearance. Zuko wondered what the old man saw. Did he also see gold eyes and think monster?

"Is something wrong?" Iroh asked, closing the door behind him. "You look pale."

Zuko averted his gaze. Thoughts were still racing through his mind, tangling into confused knots while his emotions swirled inside him like a firestorm. He just didn't understand. Even if his mother had been right to stop him from discovering his healing powers as a child—because Agni knew he hated the ability now—that still didn't explain why she and Shizue had feared that he might have said powers. The rest of the bending world seemed to believe it was impossible. It just didn't make sense, and that bothered him.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder. Zuko glanced down to see his uncle staring at him in concern. His stomach twisted. The child in him wanted to demand answers from his uncle, just as he had always done when he felt confused; the disillusioned teenager wondered if he could even trust this man. There were so many secrets, so many things that didn't add up. Zuko was at a loss what to believe. All he had was his mother's warning: to hide his healing abilities. It wasn't much, but he had to trust that she'd had his best interests at heart, because if he didn't, if he stopped believing that she had only ever been trying to protect him, then everything else she'd said must also be a lie. Zuko couldn't bear that. His mother had been everything to him. Everything.

But he just felt so confused.

A crease formed on Iroh's brow. "Nephew," he began in a soft voice, "I have told you before not to keep things bottled up. Please talk to me. Perhaps I can be of help."

Zuko looked the other way, still feeling torn as to what he should do. In the end, the decision was made for him. The sound of the ship's horn went off in two short blasts.

"Why are we changing course to port?" Zuko questioned, shrugging free of his uncle's grasp and taking a step towards the door. "I never ordered the lieutenant to do so."

"Ah, that's because I did."

"Uncle!"

"Now, Nephew, there's no need to get upset. You know I would not have interfered with your orders unless it was for an emergency."

Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Like your lotus tile emergency?"

"Not quite. Two of the strings on the liuqin have broken and there is no way to replace them with the stock we have on ship." Iroh heaved a gusty sigh. "You know we can't have music night without someone to play the liuqin."

Zuko let out a growl. "Thank you, Uncle. Now if Zhao captures the Avatar before me because we went on another one of your useless detours, I can at least comfort myself with the knowledge that you and the crew managed to enjoy music night."

Iroh's mouth stretched into a smile. "I knew I was lucky to have such an understanding nephew."

Zuko closed his eyes in pained exasperation.

"Which reminds me," Iroh continued, either oblivious or simply choosing to ignore his nephew's reaction. "Will you be joining us for music night tonight? I remember how well you used to play the tsungi horn and I know the crew would love to have you attend."

Still with his eyes closed, Zuko pointed a finger to the door. "Get out."

"Now, Zuko—"

"Out!"

Iroh sighed. "As you wish, but you know the offer still stands."

"I think I'll pass," Zuko said dryly, and then slammed the door shut behind his uncle's retreating figure.

He sighed and rubbed his temples, trying to ward off a sudden headache. Today was just not turning out to be his day.

oOo

Two days of almost straight flying had not been fun. Neither had fighting off the Fire Nation at the Northern Air Temple, but at least then Aang had not been forced to put up with Sokka grumbling about how slow Appa was going, or how Momo kept stealing all the food, or how he wondered if they were ever going to find the Northern Water Tribe when their only clues were that it was somewhere up north and surrounded by water.

"You know," Sokka had said sarcastically, "because we've been travelling north for two days and are still surrounded by water."

Aang could admit that he might have got a little snippy in response—okay, maybe a lot—but he was just as tired as the rest of them. It was therefore a relief when they finally came across the Northern Water Tribe patrol boats and were guided inside the city walls. The nice thing was that Aang didn't really feel the cold, being an airbender. The downside was that everything was made of ice and that got a little stifling and boring after a while. He could admit the city was impressive, even beautiful in a stark, icy kind of way, but there was just so much white.

"Seriously," Aang said as they were shown to their room. "How can people live like this? Everything is just ice. Ice, ice, ice. No trees. No grass. Just"—he ran his hand along the wall, then showed his glistening palm—"ice."

Sokka stared at him with faint disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

Aang blinked. Then, as he took in Sokka and Katara's blue coats and fur, two pink spots formed on his cheeks. Right. Southern Water Tribe. Ice.

"I mean, um, the city is really nice," Aang hastily corrected, forcing a grin. "Really, really nice. Lots of ice and, um, yeah. Nice ice."

Sokka slapped his palm against his forehead.

Katara dumped her sleeping bag on the floor. "Well, I think the city is beautiful, and once we learn waterbending, Aang, it will be even better."

"Now that I can agree with," Aang said, cracking a grin. "I wonder if we'll get to see any waterbending tonight at the feast."

"I'm sure we will," Katara said. "They seem pretty big on welcoming committees here. Not like back home. The only greeting you get there is a dry hello from Gran Gran and the kids throwing snowballs. Right, Sokka?"

Sokka sighed wistfully.

Katara frowned at her brother. "Sokka?" She waved her hand in front of his face. "Hey! Earth to Sokka!"

"Yeah," Sokka said with a dreamy smile. "She really is beautiful."

Katara and Aang exchanged confused glances.

"I don't even want to know," Katara said with a roll of her eyes.

Aang just grinned. It sounded like Sokka had found a new friend.

Speaking of friends, he wondered what Zuko was doing. Their last parting hadn't exactly been the best, but it had still been better than the one before. No one had been paralysed and no fireballs had been thrown—well, unless you counted Zhao. In a way, Aang had made good progress in getting Zuko to soften towards him, though there were still many things that troubled him.

Aang breathed out a sigh. I hope you're okay, Zuko, wherever you are.

He didn't know why, but he kept getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought of the prince. He sure hoped it didn't mean anything. Regardless of what Zuko had done or was planning to do, Aang didn't like the thought of Zuko being hurt. The only problem was that his feelings had never been wrong before.

oOo

It was the odd clunk that alerted Zuko to the fact he was no longer alone with his misery on the ship. Zhao had taken everyone else, and his uncle had gone for a walk. There should have been no clunks of any sort. Unease settled in the pit of his stomach. Zuko wasted no time in searching the deck and upper levels. No one was there, though he paused when he spotted a green, reptilian bird perched on the rigging outside the topmost cabin window. Why did that parrot thing seem so familiar?

A bone-jarring boom tore through the ship. Zuko gasped as the very world seemed to shudder and he was jolted off balance. What in the hell? He scrambled to regain his balance and get to the deck, but it was too late. There was another series of booms and then metal groaned and flames were suddenly coming towards him. Too fast! The heat washed over him in intense waves, getting hotter and hotter even as the flames got closer and closer, threatening to burn.

Threatening to kill.

Frantic, he brought up a wall of fire just as the explosion collided with his body. The sheer power of it was overwhelming. Bits of twisted metal lashed at him and all the heat swallowed him up. No, it pushed. A choked cry escaped his lips as the blast shoved him backwards through the cabin window, knocking the breath right out of his lungs. Glass shattered and drifted around him like broken diamonds. Zuko blinked dazedly, his sluggish mind only half recognising that he was falling.

No, he thought as he finally grasped what was happening. I can't give up. I can't—

But his body continued to fall, and then there was darkness.

oOo

Aang dropped his plate with a clatter. He placed his head in his hands, breathing in deeply to ease his sudden nausea. He felt terrible, as if a cold fist had squeezed his heart and choked his lungs, making his head swim and his stomach twist into knots. Suddenly, he really regretted eating that second helping of seaweed soup.

Katara placed a hand on his shoulder. "Aang, are you alright? You don't look so well."

"I—I don't know," he admitted, raising his head from his hands. "I just got this really awful feeling all of a sudden."

Sokka, who had overheard their conversation, leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "I think it was the soup. I'm feeling a bit gassy myself. Should have just stuck with the sea prunes."

Aang shook his head. "I'm not feeling gassy, Sokka. I just—"

"Just what?" Katara prompted, looking at him in concern.

Aang rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know. Something just feels wrong."

"What do you mean?" Sokka exclaimed, drawing quite a few eyes to their table. "This isn't another of your weird Avatar things, is it? We're not going to suddenly be attacked by rampaging panda spirits, are we? Because I had enough of that the last time!"

"Sokka, keep your voice down," Katara hissed, giving her brother a light whack around his head.

"Ow!"

"Stop being such a baby," she retorted. "I didn't hit you that hard."

"Hard enough."

Katara ignored him and glanced back at Aang. "Well? Is it something to do with the spirits?"

Aang closed his eyes, trying to search his feelings. It didn't feel like there were any malevolent spirits around. This was something more personal, as if a hand had reached deep inside of him and taken something precious, leaving him cold and shaken. He felt like he'd just stumbled across Monk Gyatso's skeleton all over again. Oddly, the only person he could see in his mind was the image of a scowling teenager with a scar on his face.

"It's him," Aang murmured.

Sokka's brow furrowed. "Who? Did you see something? Is it a rampaging panda spirit?" He clutched at his hair. "What are you talking about?"

Aang just shook his head in a helpless gesture. He didn't know, but somehow he knew it had something to do with Zuko. Something had happened to the prince. He could feel it in his heart.

Katara gripped his hand. "Aang, you really don't look well. Perhaps you should lie down."

"I'm fine. Really," he added when she continued to look at him sceptically. "I don't even feel dizzy anymore."

She released his hand. "If you say so."

Sokka thrust his head between the two, pointing a finger at Aang. "Hey, I still want to know who this 'him' person is. You just can't make cryptic remarks and then not explain what you meant."

Aang sighed. "Okay, okay, but I don't really understand it myself. This is just a guess, alright?"

The siblings nodded, urging him to continue. Aang exhaled deeply. He really didn't want to lie, but he knew that things would only get more complicated if he admitted it was Zuko he had sensed. Maybe if he twisted the truth just a little...

"You remember the Blue Spirit?" Aang asked, looking at his friends.

Sokka scratched his chin. "Wanted guy with the blue mask, right?"

"Yes, Sokka," Katara said, rolling her eyes. "He is the wanted guy with the blue mask. Oh, and let's not forget that he saved Aang's life!"

"I know that. Sheesh, there's no need to get so touchy about it."

"I'm not getting touchy! I'm just saying that you could show a bit more respect to the guy who stopped Aang from bleeding to death and being shipped off to the Fire Nation!"

Aang repressed a sigh. "Anyway," he said firmly, before the siblings could start arguing in earnest. "When I felt sick just before, I got the impression that something had happened to the Blue Spirit. Something really bad."

Katara gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. "Are you sure?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Like I said, I don't really understand this myself. I just know that all of a sudden I felt really awful and all of those feelings pointed to him."

Sokka scrunched his nose. "You really are a weird kid sometimes."

"Gee, thanks," Aang said, slumping his shoulders.

Katara glared at her brother. "Sokka!"

"What? All I'm saying is that all this talk of feelings and Blue Spirits is getting a little weird for me. I liked it much better when—" he broke off as he caught sight of a pretty girl with silvery white hair. "Excuse me for a moment."

Aang watched as Sokka bounded over to talk to Princess Yue. Beside him, Katara sighed.

"And there he goes," she said dryly. "You realise we're not going to see him for the rest of the night. Unless Yue tells him to leave her alone, of course."

Aang shrugged. "At least he's happy, right?"

"I guess." Katara glanced back at Aang and a crease formed on her brow. "So you really think that something has happened to the Blue Spirit?"

"I don't know. Like I said, it's just a feeling."

"What will you do?"

"What can I do?" he said helplessly. "It's not as if I can jump on Appa and go looking for him. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

Not to mention the fact that the Blue Spirit was actually Prince Zuko, who, if their last meeting was anything to go by, still seemed quite determined to capture him.

Katara's frown deepened. "I suppose you're right. I just can't help but feel worried. I wish there was something we could do. He saved your life, Aang."

"I know. I'm worried about him too. He's a tough guy, but sometimes he can be pretty reckless."

A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "Sounds like someone else I know."

Aang had the grace to give a sheepish grin, but inwardly he just felt sick with worry. He hoped that he was wrong about the strange feeling he had got, but something in him whispered that this was no mistake. Something had definitely happened to Zuko. It killed him to know there was nothing he could do to help.

Don't you dare go dying on me, Masky. I'm not ready to give up on you just yet.

oOo

Everything hurt. Zuko felt like he had been crushed by a stampede of komodo rhinos, then lit on fire, then stabbed with a hundred knives just to add the finishing touch. Even just trying to breathe made him feel like his body was coming apart at the seams; every laboured inhale and exhale forced sharp stabs of pain to slice through his chest. He wished he could sit up to see how much damage had been done, but he couldn't seem to move. He couldn't even blink. The only thing that existed in his world was the agony coursing through his body and the suffocating darkness pressing down on him from all sides, holding him trapped.

Don't panic, he told himself. You've been in this situation before. Just focus on the fire. Focus on the way it burns with light. Ignore the darkness. Ignore the pain. Just focus on the fire.

He exhaled a jagged, agonised breath. Yes, he could almost feel it now, that small flicker of warmth inside him. Instinct told him that he needed to go deeper, so he reached down with invisible fingers, pushing through walls of flame to the spark of life he could feel thrumming at the centre of his inner fire, just like a tiny heartbeat. Slowly, he let the rhythm fill his body, merging with his own heartbeat so that he and the fire were of one heart, one breath. It was just like when he meditated and he clung to that spark with all his soul, letting it cradle him in its heat, burning away his fears and pain. He was warmth and light and all he had to do was breathe.

"Zuko."

A muffled voice called his name. Too distant. Too painful. He wanted to stay with the flames.

"Zuko, you have to wake up."

The voice was getting closer. It sounded upset.

"Please, Nephew. You must snap out of this!"

A sharp intake of breath. Nephew. That's right. He had an uncle.

The flames he had wrapped himself up in vanished and Zuko dimly became aware of something wet dabbing at his cheek. Tensing at what he felt was an invasion of his person, he tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt heavy and thick and as if they had been glued together. It was just like when he had woken up for the first time after his Agni Kai with his father, and the raw panic that immediately gripped his mind had him lashing out in a wild tangle of limbs.

"Zuko! Zuko!"

Hands closed around his shoulders, pushing him back against the mattress. Zuko couldn't help the small sob that escaped his lips, though he wasn't sure if it was from the intensity of his injuries or just the momentary despair of finding himself blind and helpless again. He hated that feeling more than anything.

"Zuko," the voice said again, much more gently this time. "Calm down. It's just me."

With an effort Zuko managed to force his eyelids open, letting him see past a swarm of black dots to the fuzzy image of an old man with a beard leaning over him. He blinked just to make sure the image was still there. It was.

"Uncle?" Zuko said weakly.

Iroh let out a relieved sigh. "Good, you're finally awake."

Zuko tried to sit up, but the sledgehammer of pain that rammed his nerves had him collapsing back against the pillows in an instant. He breathed in another sharp breath, feeling his stomach twist and heave as his body protested at even this small motion. Spirits, he was a wreck.

"Careful," Iroh said, helping him to get back into a more comfortable position. "You've broken three of your ribs and have quite a nasty collection of cuts on your body." He shook his head sadly. "You're lucky that explosion didn't kill you."

Zuko placed a hand over his eyes, wincing slightly as his fingers brushed against tender flesh. "I think it would have if I hadn't been able to bring up a fire shield just before I was hit. That explosion hadn't been designed to leave survivors."

"Did you see who placed the explosives?"

Zuko barely repressed a growl. "It was those pirates we came across a few weeks back."

He'd realised why the bird had seemed so familiar now. It had belonged to that backstabbing captain.

Iroh stroked his beard. "Pirates don't usually go out of their way to make assassination attempts, especially if there is nothing of profit to loot."

"I know. That's why I think they were paid."

"By whom?"

Gold eyes narrowed. "Admiral Zhao."

"That's a heavy accusation, Nephew."

"But a true one." Zuko met his gaze. "You've seen what he's done to sabotage my mission, Uncle. You know I'm right."

Iroh accepted this assertion in silence. "What will you do?"

A smile twisted Zuko's bloodied face. "What I always planned to do. I'm going to capture the Avatar, and Zhao is going to help me do it."

"I don't doubt you, Nephew," Iroh said calmly, "but don't you think you should rest first? Those injuries are not going to disappear."

"There isn't enough time. Zhao's fleet is leaving tomorrow and with them goes my only chance of getting to the North Pole. I have to get on one of those ships."

Iroh's brow creased. "Zuko, I know you're dedicated, but there is such a thing as pushing yourself too hard. You almost died today. Please, just—"

"I don't care! A bit of pain is nothing to what will happen if Zhao captures the Avatar before me!" He took in a shuddering breath and his voice dropped to a murmur as he looked the other way. "I have to do this."

Iroh stared at him for a long moment. "Very well," he said grimly, "but don't think I'm going to let you do this alone."

"What?"

"I'm coming with you. In fact, I think it's about time I pay our friend Admiral Zhao a visit." A smile curved his mouth. "After all, with my nephew dead and the ship gone, what else am I supposed to do except join the admiral on his expedition to the north?"

Understanding lit Zuko's eyes. "Do you think he will fall for it?"

"Of course." A lazy wink. "I am a master of deception."

Zuko resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Right."

Iroh's smile widened a fraction. "Don't worry, Nephew. We shall find a way to get you on one of Admiral Zhao's ships, but for now you must listen to your uncle and rest. You're going to need all of your strength if you want to capture the Avatar."

For once, Zuko did not argue. He really did feel terrible, so he closed his eyes and let his uncle finish redressing his wounds.

"Strange. These cuts …"

"Mm?" Zuko mumbled sleepily. "What is it?"

"No, never mind. It's nothing." Iroh clasped his hand briefly. "Just rest well, my nephew."

Zuko did not respond. He had already fallen asleep.