The aftermath of battle was never pleasant even when victory has been won, so it was a sombre group who made their way to the meeting hall. Aang tried not to look at the ocean where he knew twisted bits of metal and—he swallowed—other things still floated among the black waters. He tried not to look at the moon, which he had learnt had only been restored because Princess Yue had sacrificed her life. He tried not to look at Sokka, who was silent and grim-faced and still had faint traces of tears streaking his cheeks. Aang tried not to look at any of it, focussing only on moving his feet one step at a time. Trying not to remember.

Katara gripped his shoulder to pull him to a halt. Aang looked up in a daze and realised that they were already outside the meeting hall. The guard standing on watch lowered his spear, gesturing for them to enter through the doors.

"Chief Arnook has been waiting for you," the guard said, then cast a wary look at Aang before averting his gaze.

Something clenched in Aang's gut, twisting his stomach into knots. Many of the Water Tribe warriors had been looking at him in that way since the ceasefire: a strange mixture of awe and fear. Aang thought he could guess why. They'd all seen how he had merged with the Ocean Spirit and taken down the Fire Nation navy. It would have been a frightening sight to behold, though at the time Aang hadn't really been conscious of what he was doing. All he had known was a blinding white rage, the same that always dulled his awareness when he entered the Avatar State. This time it had been worse because he'd been fused with the spirit of the ocean as well. Emotions that should have been his alone had been intermingled with a water-tinted hate. Limbs that should have answered only to him had been guided by another's hand. When the moon had finally gleamed up in the sky again and the white light had died in his eyes, Aang had found himself surrounded by a ring of destruction.

It wasn't me, he told himself for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was the Ocean Spirit.

Except he still felt guilty. Airbenders were supposed to be peaceful; they were supposed to live in harmony with the world and with the people around them. Even if he was the Avatar, he did not want to have to resort to violence.

Momo swooped down from the sky and landed on his head, chittering something that might have been words of comfort. In reality, it was probably just a request for moon peaches. Aang reached up to scratch the lemur behind the ears, but his heart still felt terribly heavy. This was not the victory he had been hoping for. Everything had gone so wrong. He didn't even know what had happened to Zuko, though the old man—Zuko's uncle, Aang reminded himself—had left the oasis to look for the prince. Maybe they had both got away.

Katara tightened her grip on his shoulder. "Aang."

Shaken from his thoughts, he glanced up to meet her eyes.

"Come on," she said softly. "We should go inside."

"Right."

Letting out a deep breath, he walked through the doors and entered the hall where the leaders of the Northern Water Tribe had gathered. Chief Arnook sat at the front on a frozen dais. Beside him sat the warrior leader, Iluq: a broad-shouldered man with black hair and icy blue eyes. Master Pakku should have flanked the chief on the right, but the old waterbender was nowhere to be seen. The rest of the men were seated facing the platform in a half circle in two groups, allowing a space in the middle for people to take the floor and speak if they so wished. Judging by the way the group were bickering among each other, the meeting had already started and it was not going well.

Chief Arnook spotted the latecomers. "Ah. You're here."

The conversation stopped as the Water Tribe council turned as one to look at the quartet. Momo huddled closer to Aang's neck, wrapping around him like a scarf. It seemed the lemur did not like being under such scrutiny. Aang had to admit that he didn't either, though he had come to accept it as a matter of course during his travels.

"Sorry we're late," Aang apologised, crossing to join the group on the left.

Chief Arnook shook his head. "I understand that you and your friends must be tired."

The unspoken words lingered between them: because Aang had summoned an Ocean Spirit and defeated the Fire Nation navy; because Yue was gone, and everyone knew that it was their failure to protect the Moon Spirit which had caused that. It was a wonder that Chief Arnook hadn't sent them packing for allowing the princess to die, but Chief Arnook had understood. Aang had tried his best, just like Sokka and Katara had tried their best. Sometimes, though, things just didn't work out the way you wanted. It was a lesson with which Aang was still trying to come to terms.

"Chief Arnook," Iluq said, steering the conversation back to the matter at hand. "We still need to decide what we are going to do with the war prisoners."

The chief sighed. "We will just have to—"

Suddenly, the doors to the meeting hall were thrust open and two Water Tribe warriors entered, one dragging an unmoving figure behind him. Arnook broke off and frowned at this unlooked-for interruption. Aang tried to peer around a bulky man to get a better look at the person being dragged. Those white clothes looked familiar.

"What is the meaning of this?" Chief Arnook demanded.

The warrior on the right stepped forward, then dumped his inert burden in front of the chief. "We found this boy near the temple. Had to knock him out with sleeping weed 'cause the little pest wouldn't stay down. You can see he's definitely Fire Nation, though he's not wearing the right armour so—"

Aang gasped. He had finally managed to get a clear view and what he saw made his heart quicken in both fear and relief. There was no mistaking that scar, and even under all the bruises and cuts that mottled the boy's face, Aang would never forget those angular features.

"Zuko!" he exclaimed.

He would have rushed forward, but the chief held up a warning hand. Chastised, Aang swallowed and watched the small group in front of the dais, his heart thumping with anxiety. Zuko was here. Zuko was here, but the prince didn't look well at all and—and why was everyone staring at him like that?

Chief Arnook took a few steps forward, bending down to examine Zuko's face. "So this must be Prince Zuko, the Fire Lord's son and heir."

There was a chorus of cries from the other men in the room, some surprised while others just sounded angry. Aang felt Sokka tense beside him.

"This isn't going to be good," Sokka murmured.

Aang's brow furrowed. He was about to ask what Sokka had meant, but just then the warrior leader, Iluq, stepped down from the dais and grabbed Zuko by the hair, raising his head to get a better look at the scarred visage. Aang didn't know why, but the expression on Iluq's face made him go cold. It was the look of someone who had just found a great treasure.

"Well," Iluq said, releasing his grip on Zuko's hair and letting him drop back to the ground with a thud, "if this is the prince of the Fire Nation, we ought to hear what he has to say." He turned to the chief. "Chief Arnook, if I may?"

Arnook nodded wearily, then sat back down on the dais.

Iluq glanced at the first warrior who had spoken. "Wake him up!"

The warrior smiled. "With pleasure."

Aang flinched at the sound of a boot making contact with bone; he almost felt the sickening thwack reverberate through his own body. Zuko lurched up on reflex, groaning as he clutched a hand to his side where he had just been kicked. He looked a bit disoriented for a moment before he seemed to realise where he was and who was surrounding him. Gold eyes narrowed. In a flash, he lashed out in a low, spinning sweep kick that encircled his body with flames and sent the three warriors standing near him sprawling. Just as he came full circle, Zuko pushed himself back to his feet and made a run for the door.

"Stop him!" Iluq cried from where he had fallen.

Zuko ducked under the arms of the man who reached out to grab him and continued to run, increasing his speed with every step. He might have managed to escape too, but then two water whips latched around his ankles, bringing him face-first to the ground. Immediately, the warriors were upon him and pinning him to the floor by his arms and legs while he growled and thrashed against their hold. Aang watched in frozen horror, not sure what he should do. Zuko was the Fire Nation prince and an enemy of the Northern Water Tribe; Aang knew he shouldn't, couldn't, interfere. But Zuko was also the Blue Spirit and the boy who had saved his life. It was too confusing.

Iluq stopped in front of Zuko, a nasty smile curving his mouth. "Well, well," he observed, "it seems we've caught ourselves quite the wild one."

Zuko responded by breathing out a roar of flames. Iluq stumbled back and had to pat at his beard to put out the sparks. His eyes narrowed. Like the crack of a whip, he struck out with a back-handed blow, making Zuko's head snap back from the impact. Aang's hand twitched on his staff.

"You want to try that trick again, little prince?" Iluq hissed, bringing out his whale's tooth scimitar and holding it to Zuko's throat.

Zuko spat out a glob of blood. It was obvious that he was not intimidated.

Iluq's mouth twisted and he grasped Zuko by the jaw, forcing his head up to expose the vulnerable curve of his throat. Sharpened ivory pressed against pale skin, just drawing a line of red. Aang's breath hitched at the sight. He took an involuntary step forward, fingers tightening around his staff.

"That's enough, Iluq!"

Aang paused and turned to see Chief Arnook frowning at the warrior leader. The change in that careworn face was startling. Before, the chief had just looked weary and resigned, lost in his own grief. Now those light-blue eyes were as hard as steel and his expression was just as unforgiving. This was the face of a man who commanded respect, and it had the desired effect.

Iluq removed the scimitar from Zuko's throat and turned to face the chief. "Forgive me, Chief Arnook. I was merely—"

"You were merely letting your temper get the better of you," Arnook interrupted, and then shifted his gaze to Zuko. "As for you, Prince Zuko, refrain from trying to burn my warriors. I do not condone the maiming of children, but I will also not allow the people of my tribe to be hurt. For your own safety, you had best cooperate."

Zuko just glared, his breathing heavy as blood continued to trickle down his neck.

"Now then," the chief continued, "why don't you start by telling us why you are here? It's clear from your clothes that you were not part of the main invasion force, and we already know who was to blame for the death of the Moon Spirit." His eyes hardened. "So, then, what were you doing near the temple?"

Zuko lowered his gaze to the ground and said nothing.

"You will answer the chief!" the warrior clutching Zuko's left arm ordered, giving him a rough shake.

Zuko still said nothing. It seemed that he had decided to find his new method of resistance in silence. Aang shifted on his feet, wondering if he should say anything. Then the matter was taken out of his hands as Sokka stepped forward.

"Uh, we can probably answer that," Sokka said, shooting a glance at the prince. "See, Zuko has been trying to capture Aang since we first came across him at the South Pole. He's been chasing us everywhere, and I mean everywhere." A shrug. "It was kind of inevitable that he would follow us here."

"Is this true, Avatar?" Chief Arnook asked.

Aang nodded. "But Zuko was only ever going after me," he added in a rush. "I don't think he was trying to, you know, attack the Water Tribe or the Moon Spirit like the others. And he didn't even hurt me, so maybe we should just—"

Sokka jabbed him in the ribs. Aang broke off abruptly, but only to stare at his friend.

"What?" he demanded.

"Now is not the time to play peaceful airbender, Aang," Sokka whispered from out of the corner of his mouth. "Best just to keep your mouth shut."

"But—"

Sokka shook his head and gestured to Chief Arnook, who was now staring back at Zuko with an unreadable expression on his face.

"So you have been trying to capture the Avatar," the chief observed, rubbing a hand against his beard. "And what about the rest of your country? Thanks to the Avatar, the Fire Nation navy was completely obliterated. So, tell me, can we expect any more attacks like this?"

Zuko's jaw tightened, but he still remained silent.

Iluq made an exasperated sound. "We're wasting our time trying to get answers out of this brat! He's never going to talk!"

"I say we kill him and be done with it," another warrior muttered. "One less Fire Nation scum to worry about."

"We are not going to kill him, Qaniit," Chief Arnook said tiredly. "He is not just some 'Fire Nation scum', as you put it. He is the Crown Prince."

Iluq stepped forward, placing himself in front of the warriors who were still holding Zuko in place. "If I may, Chief Arnook, I suggest that we keep the boy and use him as a bargaining tool. However useless he might be as a source of information, the Fire Lord will have no choice but to listen to our demands once he hears that we have his son as our prisoner."

That did get a sound out of Zuko, though it was only a humourless laugh.

"Something amusing, little prince?" Iluq growled.

Zuko met his gaze steadily. "Just that you're an idiot."

"Why you little—"

"Iluq!"

The warrior leader froze.

Chief Arnook frowned at Zuko. "You seem to believe this plan will not work, Prince Zuko. You think the Fire Lord would not be willing to negotiate peace terms for the safety of his son?"

Zuko averted his face and said nothing.

"Answer the question, brat!" Iluq snarled.

Before anyone could stop him, he lashed out and kicked Zuko hard in the ribs. No one had been prepared for the almost inhuman cry of pain that escaped Zuko's throat. Nor did they expect the teen to start coughing and gasping for air like a drowning man, his body convulsing as he instinctively tried to curl up on himself. The warriors restraining Zuko dropped him in surprise, but he, for once, made no attempt to run. Instead, he just collapsed onto his hands and knees, still making that horrible, hacking cough.

Aang's eyes widened. He turned on Iluq, hot rage bubbling under his skin. "What did you do to him?" he screamed, making Momo take off into the air with a screech.

Iluq looked confused. "I—"

Aang brought up his staff and took a threatening step forward. Katara gripped him by the shoulders, holding him back.

"Don't," she said in a low voice. "This isn't the way."

Aang wrenched himself free and ran—not towards Iluq, but towards Zuko's limp figure. He dropped to his knees and rolled Zuko onto his back, staring anxiously down at the scarred face. Zuko was still conscious, but there was a glazed look in his golden eyes as if he was barely aware of the world around him. His skin had also developed a nasty, greyish quality. When Aang pressed his hand against the prince's cheek, trying to get him to focus, he was surprised at how cold and clammy it felt.

"Zuko," Aang murmured, lightly tapping his face. "Zuko, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Tell me!"

Zuko just closed his eyes, breathing in and out in weak, rattling breaths that just sounded so painful and wrong. Aang's bottom lip trembled. He curled his fingers into Zuko's tunic, feeling the far too rapid beat of Zuko's heart pulse against his palm. No. No, no, no, no! This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Zuko hadn't even done anything to the Northern Water Tribe. He didn't deserve this. He didn't—

Aang froze as a cold feeling encircled his heart, squeezing unpleasantly. He trembled and stared down into that scarred, battered face, even as nausea swept through his body, twisting his stomach into knots and making him want to retch. There was something reaching inside of him, something reaching too deep, too close, trying to snatch away those threads of precious warmth embracing his soul.

"No!" Aang choked out, knowing what that awful feeling meant.

His spirit had sensed that his bond with Zuko was about to be cut, which could only mean one thing. Zuko was dying. He was dying and there was nothing Aang could do about it.

Aang swung around to face the group of stunned councilmen and warriors. "Why are you all just standing there?" he shouted, his vision blurring as something hot prickled at the corner of his eyes. "We have to do something! We have to heal him!"

"Heal him?" Qaniit exclaimed. "Why should we heal him?"

Aang ignored this outburst and focussed on the only female in the room, the only person who might be able to help. "Katara, please," he begged. "Please, help him. He's dying!"

Their eyes met and for a moment the two just stared at each other: Aang pleading while Katara just looked torn. Finally, she nodded and rushed over to join him on the floor, already summoning the liquid from her waterskin. Aang watched as she ran glowing palms over Zuko's face, feeling down his chi meridians to his chest. She paused.

"Sokka, I need your dagger," she said in a voice of forced calm.

Her brother was immediately beside her with the jawbone knife, for once not choosing to argue. "What do you need me to do?" he asked.

"Cut his tunic open." She lifted her water-encased hands away. "I think there might be something wrong with his ribs, but I can't manipulate his chi properly to heal him unless I have direct contact with his skin."

"Right!"

Sokka set about slicing through the thick layers of fabric covering Zuko's chest while Aang watched on anxiously.

Qaniit let out a disgusted snarl and stalked over to the chief. "Chief Arnook, are you really going to stand for this?" he demanded. "This boy is our enemy! His people are the reason your daughter is dead! The reason our brothers and sons are dead!"

There were some murmurs of agreement from the other men, but Chief Arnook held up his hand for silence. He looked down at the group gathered around Zuko, his expression unreadable. Aang tightened his fingers around his staff, getting ready to defend in case the chief tried to stop the healing. He didn't care if it wasn't his place to interfere; he was not about to let Zuko die.

"Do what you must, Katara," Chief Arnook said in a weary voice. "Enemy or not, I believe enough children have died today."

Aang let out a sigh of relief. Katara simply got her hands ready to heal as Sokka peeled away the shredded layers of white. All three gasped at the sight that met their eyes. Instead of smooth, pale skin, the Zuko's chest was a canvas of swollen purples and blacks. Squares of cloth had been taped onto his stomach and upper torso, some of which were stained a rusty red. Then there were the gashes and cuts that had not been covered, forming jagged lines of barely healed flesh. It was his ribs that truly repulsed, though. Some of the left side of his ribcage almost seemed to have sunk inward. All of the skin around his ribs was bruised an ugly purplish-black.

"That's sick," Sokka said in a shaky voice.

Aang turned to the girl beside him. "Can you heal him?"

"I—I'll try."

Inhaling deeply, Katara placed her palms against Zuko's chest. Once again, her hands began to glow and they could see some of the bruising fading under her touch, but then she pulled back as if burned.

"What is it?" Aang exclaimed. "Is something wrong?"

A crease formed on her brow. "N-no, it's nothing. I just wasn't expecting his chi to feel so ... alive. It's like he's on fire, but it's more than that as well." She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. "Hang on, let me try again."

Still frowning, she placed her glowing hands back on his chest and slowly began to trace a circular path along his ribs. More of the bruises and cuts faded, but Aang couldn't help but notice the way her jaw clenched. Something was wrong. The more Katara tried to heal Zuko, the less certain she appeared in her movements. Her hands trembled and an odd sparkle gleamed in her eyes. Finally, she dropped her hands back to her sides and bowed her head, letting the water that had encased her palms splash harmlessly to the ground.

"I can't do it," she whispered. "I can't heal him."

Aang's heart clenched. "What do you mean you can't heal him? Katara, you have to!"

"I can't!" The words were ripped from her, and she looked at him now with tears rolling down her cheeks. "It's too much. I thought I could heal him, but I'm just—I'm just not good enough." Her hands curled into fists. "I don't know how."

Aang felt like the world was crumbling from under his feet. This could not be happening.

Chief Arnook glanced towards the warrior closest to the door. "Pukiq, get Yugoda. And hurry!"

Pukiq nodded and dashed out of the meeting hall. The next few minutes were of pure agony for Aang, but then Pukiq was bursting back through the doors and with him came the elderly woman whom Aang recognised as the Master Healer of the tribe. Yugoda took one look at Zuko and then was at his side, placing glowing palms against his chest just as Katara had done only moments before. Oddly, Yugoda also hesitated at the initial contact with Zuko's chi, but then she let the water flow from her hands, sinking into bruised flesh. With a sigh, she gathered the liquid back up into her waterskin.

"This is going to take a while," Yugoda said grimly. "You were right to call me."

"What's wrong with him?" Aang asked in a small voice.

"He's broken three of his ribs and his left lung has been punctured. I've managed to get the air out of the pleural space for now, but sealing everything up properly and getting his ribs back into place will take a long time." She shook her head. "This boy is very lucky to be alive. He's still showing signs of having gone into circulatory shock, but Katara's healing session must have stopped the organs from failing completely." Yugoda smiled at her. "You did well, child."

Katara just shook her head. "I couldn't do anything. I couldn't heal him at all."

"You did enough. That is what matters."

Aang looked at Yugoda hopefully. "So he'll live?"

"He will live," she confirmed, then glanced towards the chief. "Of course, it would help if I could get a little privacy. I can't move him to the healing huts right now—not like this. I'm going to need to heal him here, and I can't do that with all of you grumbling men hovering around."

Said grumbling men stopped their muttering and stared at the chief with indignant expressions, as if asking how Arnook could let a woman boss them around and disrespect them like that. The chief just sighed.

"You heard Yugoda. Everybody out."

Qaniit's eyes narrowed. "But—"

"Enough, Qaniit. The boy is still a prince and so he shall be treated accordingly. He is of no use to us dead." Arnook waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "This meeting is over. Return to your homes."

Iluq, who had been very still and silent from the moment Zuko had collapsed, now stepped forward. "Chief Arnook, if it pleases you, I will have Pikuq and Arrluk stand guard just in case Prince Zuko should wake again and try to attack."

"Very well," Chief Arnook said. "The rest of you, leave."

"I'm staying," Aang said firmly.

"Me too," Katara said, and then cast an anxious glance at Yugoda. "If that's okay with you, of course."

Yugoda smiled. "Of course, Katara. In fact, I was hoping you would be able to assist me. This is a delicate process and two pairs of hands will be better than one."

Katara swallowed. "I'll try."

"You'll be fine," Yugoda said reassuringly.

That seemed to decide the matter. In the end, it was just the three of them, plus Momo, left in the meeting hall, along with the two warriors who had been assigned to keep watch. Sokka could have stayed but said he would check on Appa; the big guy was bound to be feeling lonely. Even Chief Arnook had left, muttering something about finding Master Pakku and unexpected complications.

Aang had to admit that it was a relief to see the Northern Water Tribe warriors go. He had not liked the way they had looked at Zuko. None of them seemed to recognise Zuko as a human being, except maybe Chief Arnook. Everyone else had just seen an enemy or a tool to be used against the Fire Nation. It was ... unsettling.

Pushing aside such thoughts, Aang focussed his attention back on the two waterbenders, who were now carefully feeling around Zuko's upper body with glowing palms. Momo clambered onto Aang's lap and curled up into a furry ball, watching this process through round green eyes. Grateful for the company, Aang stroked his fingers down Momo's back and settled in for a long night of anxious waiting. The awful feeling that had alerted him to Zuko's condition had mostly faded, but the faint throbbing in his shoulder where the arrow had pierced told him that there was still some danger.

Come on, Zuko, Aang thought. You've never given up before. You can't give up now.

oOo

There were two men standing by the raft. Both had their cloaks pulled up over their faces, but as the moon touched down on the ice, illuminating the scene, it was revealed that one man was wearing a red robe while the other had shrouded himself in blue.

"Iroh, you have to leave," the man in the blue cloak urged in a low voice. "I will not be able to protect you if you are caught. You know this."

The old general shook his head. "I won't leave without my nephew."

"I'm sorry, but you and I both know that if your nephew has not returned, he has either been captured or killed."

Iroh closed his eyes in pain. "That is why I can't leave. I have already lost one son. I do not wish to lose another."

"And what if you are found and imprisoned? How will you help your nephew then? How will you help anyone?"

"A river continues to flow even if the fish that swims in its waters seeks a home elsewhere. There are others to take my place."

"You're wrong. Piandao and Jeong Jeong might be from the Fire Nation, but neither of them have your unique status as a member of the royal family, nor do they have your ability to gather men from all sectors of life to follow you." The man in the blue cloak paused, as if what he was about to say next was especially difficult for him to speak. "We need you, Iroh. The Order of the White Lotus needs you."

Iroh sighed heavily. "You do realise what you are asking of me?"

"Yes. Will you do it?"

Iroh turned to face the raft. "I have watched over my nephew for almost three years. It is ... painful to think of abandoning him now. Too painful."

The man in the blue cloak was silent for a moment. "If Prince Zuko is dead, staying here would be an unnecessary risk on your part." Another pause. "If he is alive, however, I will personally see to it that he gets out of the city safely, even if he has been captured." His voice suddenly became very dry. "Is that enough for you, Iroh?"

Iroh couldn't repress his chuckle. "You always did drive a hard bargain, Pakku."

Master Pakku pulled back his hood, smiling wryly. "Perhaps you are just not as wise as you like to think yourself, Grand Lotus."

This got a much louder laugh. "Possibly, my friend. Possibly."

"Ah, before I forget." Pakku reached into his robe and held out a small counter.

"The white lotus tile," Iroh observed, accepting the offering.

"I hear you lost yours," Pakku said with a hint of a smile. "I figured you might need one."

"You're right," Iroh agreed solemnly.

It was time to begin the call, even if every feeling in his heart did resist the idea of leaving without Zuko.

I'm sorry, Nephew. I pray that you are alive. I pray that we will meet again.

Until then, they would have to go their separate paths.