In the inner square of the main palace court, Aang finds a quiet moment. He picks a spot under the shade of a column. He's alert. It's going to take time to get used to the calmness, with no gargantuan task ahead. Not for now.

He stares up at the ornate engravings in the ceiling high above. A phoenix? A wave? It feels weird to be in here as a guest, without having to watch over his shoulder.

"Aang." A familiar voice, in an unfamiliar tone. Down the stairs comes the newly anointed Fire Lord. Aang comes to realise he's been waiting here for just that.

"What are you doing out here?" Zuko says.

"Just taking a break," Aang says. The crowd still murmurs outside. He jumps suddenly, recalls the present situation, and bows as elaborately as he can under the heavy ceremonial robes. "Your Fieryness."

It earns him pleasant laughter, surprisingly. It's nice, and a little surreal.

Zuko looks so clean and so smart and so tall and so -

Peaceful. That's the word.

"Everyone's waiting out in my uncle's quarters," he says after a bloated pause. "We're going to Ba Sing Se for a while." And then, "Aang? You're… you're smiling really weird."

"Right," Aang gives his head a quick shake. "Let's go." But he's standing in place. There was something he wanted to say. What was it? The heat in this country is oppressive, distracting.

Another expectant pause, before Zuko turns in the direction of the stairs leading outside, where they're supposed to be heading. Aang stirs up a low breeze to catch up, the last tendrils of it making Zuko's opulent cape billow as he falls into step.

"You're going to be an awesome Fire Lord," he says.

The small smile Zuko offers in return is almost impossible in its clarity.

The slapdash skyline of Republic City begins to take shape as they slowly float further and further away from it. Aang watches with his elbows resting on the rail. Neither Katara nor Sokka came to wave him off from the bay as the emergency planning needed their attention; they had shared a few words earlier while Aang was packing up.

He smiles. Katara is always busy.

Even hours deep into organising the city's resources, she still had the wreath he made for her in her hair, despite the fact that she had changed into her healer clothes and a pair of sturdy boots. He hadn't even considered that she might wear it at the wedding when he was making it.

There's no way around it - he's so excited to finally be married. The earthquake hangs heavy in his mind, but it's still so soon after, and right now it's impossible for the dismay to overtake the sheer excitement of the wedding celebrations.

And he has Zuko with him. He hasn't seen Zuko in a million years, or that's what it feels like, anyway. He wonders where Zuko is now - they had caught up briefly over dinner but it wasn't anywhere near enough considering how long they've been apart. And it was everyone at once, too. The thrill of being with all his closest friends at his wedding was enough, but not enough enough. He needs Zuko alone - it's always been how Aang's best moments with him are. He tries not to dwell on that.

His best friend. And apparently, Katara's best pen pal buddy. Though he doesn't know what on Earth that could be like - when they're actually together, they never seem to get beyond bickering.

Aang finds Zuko through a lit window on the deck, though he's hard to spot among all the junk. The ship is only a ship in the barest sense of the word; it isn't really big enough or spacious enough or reinforced that well. It's the best they could spare at a moment's notice, and the journey shouldn't be that long. Besides the navigation room, the only other room above deck is a large, spacious living area filled with chairs and maps - a conference room, basically. Zuko is the lone figure at one of its low desks. He has an inkwell and parchment, but his pen lays flat on the wooden surface.

Aang pulls up a cushion and sits opposite him, crossing his legs to mirror Zuko.

"Sifu Hotman," Aang says.

Zuko only looks up briefly in acknowledgement, not even bristling at the nickname. Aang notes with a hint of disappointment that he must have gotten used to it over the years. "What are you writing?"

Zuko nods towards a slip of paper on the desk. "It's for my Uncle. He wrote to me this morning. I need to tell him what we're planning out here. I'll send someone as soon as we land."

Aang picks up the letter on the desk and skims it. After a few moments, he laughs, "I'm glad the cameraman was worth the trouble."

Zuko smiles at that. "Really, you don't have to send him pictures -"

"Of course I do." He smiles back, then suddenly remembers. "Oh! We should have taken a picture with you!"

"I swear, that thing takes half an hour to recover after one photo."

"True." He adds, "When was the last time I saw Iroh?"

"Two summers ago, at the Royal Palace."

"Right. Wow. It's been way too long." Aang leans back so he can better see Zuko's expression. His eyes are always easier to read than the rest of him. "Did you like the wedding?"

"It was nice," Zuko says, and straightens out his shoulders. The corners of his mouth quirk in a smile, but it doesn't reach far enough to feel genuine.

"Are you okay? You seem kinda upset," Aang starts. "I mean the news is terrible-"

"I'm fine," Zuko says, shaking his head. He looks Aang in the eyes. "How are you? Married man - how does that feel?"

"It's the best, Zuko."

"Katara looked so beautiful."

"Right?" Aang says. He furrows his brow, "Wait - is that why you're upset? You wanna get married?"

"I'm not upset."

"Okay, well. Whatever it is, I hope it didn't ruin the wedding for you." He pauses, "You know, I'm really glad you came."

Zuko shrugs weirdly. "I wouldn't miss it." He's fiddling with the pen, eyes unfocused. Aang hums lowly.

This is the part where he knows he should tease, or even make a genuine comment: something encouraging, about Zuko and a girl, a wedding, a shared life. I can't wait to see yours. But it feels two-faced no matter what way he looks at it. Especially after his own wedding.

He watches Zuko start writing again.

It's because he isn't interested in it - Zuko, all the way over there, making little Fire Princes and Princesses with a faceless (though probably amazing) girl.

What's wrong with him? It's selfish, right? The stupid, stupid remnants of a whirlwind childhood crush?

Still, he doesn't want to be dishonest just for the sake of it. He settles on the truth. "I'm so happy, Zuko. I hope you get to feel like that pretty soon."

Okay, that's - kind of weird thing to say, too. Zuko doesn't seem to notice.

"I just need to put this brief together before the palace's monthly meeting next week," he says without looking, answering Aang's eyes on him.

Aang watches the lines of his face. Even with the years under pressure, he still doesn't look as wired as he did when Aang first saw him as a child. There's something polished about him - something actually, properly regal - that shines through Zuko's resolve more than the title, and much more than any of his past hardships. It's the thing that has made Aang's heart catch with pride (though it's not entirely pride) ever since he first started noticing it.

He hasn't always been a perfect leader and he hasn't always been a perfect friend but Aang, at twenty-three, is just as protective of both of those journeys as he was at thirteen. Probably even more so.

He doesn't know why it would feel weird to let Zuko know that. It's too close to the, um, other feeling. In fact, he's scared they bleed right into each other.

It's always different with Zuko. It always has been. He thinks about his closest friends. Toph, Sokka, Suki. Bumi. They're all people he could count on in a heartbeat. All the best fun with them - it's what he lives for; barring Katara, barring his duty as the Avatar and the last airbender.

Zuko is different.

There's the unspoken element to their friendship, the mutual knowledge that it blooms best in private. There's nothing damning about that, right? Maybe it's because of the unlikely thread that has connected them from the start, from before Aang even knew him, much less called him a friend. He tries not to think of destiny, except it's hard not to when it puts the steadfast friendship of someone whose mission it was to destroy him, right in his lap. A lifelong friendship, he's sure of the fact.

The sound of the pen hitting the desk, starkly loud, brings him back to Earth.

"I don't know if I can do it," Zuko says suddenly, letting his head fall into his hand. Aang startles and sits up. "It's been years - we're making progress. I don't know what they want." He sighs roughly and scowls. "Ugh, is it even worth it to negotiate with a dying industry- I should just quit this project-"

"Zuko," Aang says.

There are a lot of moments like this, when Aang clamps every corner of his mind shut, so he doesn't say something stupid, do something stupid, to make Zuko understand the bottomless reserve of Aang's trust in him and his ability. Saying it would probably anger him more right now. It's part of Zuko's process.

Instead, he catches Zuko's wrist. There's a small mark there. One of the long days they had spent holed up in a makeshift Republic City penthouse, filing through papers and scrolls and decrees and letters by night, having tedious meetings with politicians of every ilk by day - all to get the United Republic configured and working. Aang had been bringing tea, and in his sleepless stupor, had managed to spill it right over Zuko's papers on the floor. By the time he caught himself and bended it off the documents, a splash had already hit Zuko.

He squeezes that wrist. "Don't be stupid," he says shortly.

Zuko nudges him but Aang doesn't let it go. He snaps, "What?"

"You're not alone because you feel like that. Sometimes I still want to run away from it all too."

"It's different - people don't abhor the Avatar."

"They don't abhor you either, Zuko. Well, most of them. But they don't know you so it doesn't matter."

"Easy for you to say that so casually."

"The bottom line is, people put their faith in me. They need me. And they sure as hell need you," Aang says. "You have the most important job and I promise there's no one that could do it better." He loosens his grip and slides his palm until it's flat over Zuko's, who doesn't seem to notice that he's automatically opening for the touch. Zuko's skin is warm, the smooth flesh that doesn't yield a sliver of what his friend has been through, unlike other parts of him. "No one else knows the mentality of the Fire Nation more intimately. No one else is better equipped to change it."

It's a well-trodden speech, but not a necessary one. Zuko will come to his senses of his own accord soon enough. Still, it bothers Aang to see him frustrated. He doesn't realise how quiet his voice has gotten.

Zuko holds his gaze. "Thanks," he says quietly. Then he coughs and takes away his hand. "I guess. I need to write this," he says, as a dismissal.

Aang smiles but his heart is jumping under his robes. He hopes, as ever, that he hasn't overstepped.

The next couple of days go by so slowly. Aang feels strangely incapacitated on a ship after so long, without Appa; and even more so without Katara, given that he had hardly seen her during the week before (a Water Tribe practice that her whole party insisted they follow). They're married. He doesn't feel that at all. He spends the time doing rounds around the ship - flying high above with his glider with nothing but ocean for miles. It keeps his head clear even more than meditation does; endless, timeless water. He knows it's going to be chaos once they land. Zuko is strangely quiet too, keeping to himself, scribbling letters or reading. Aang knows when not to disrupt him - his moods have always come and gone.

On what is hopefully the last day before they land, the sky is completely clear. Aang wakes just before dawn. It's already warmer on this side of the continent, before they've even reached land. Up on the deck, the air is humid.

He spots Zuko leaning against the edge of a railing. His shoulders are loose under the rich, red sleep tunic. His hair, however, is in the proper style. Aang flicks the little crown pinning it together when he reaches him. The small ping it makes alerts Zuko to his presence. "Good morning," he says. "You don't feel like getting dressed?"

Zuko comes back down to Earth from wherever he was and shakes his head in mock irritation. "It's not even six, Aang." And then, "How did you sleep?"

Aang shrugs. "Eh. I've been seasick."

Zuko sighs. "Me too. We're getting too used to being airborne," he muses.

Aang pipes up suddenly. "I know! Let's spar. We haven't done that in ages. I don't get to practice my firebending enough these days."

Zuko, surprisingly, says, "Sure. Let's go."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he repeats. He's smirking now. "What, are you scared?"

Now they're talking. Aang pouts in reply before leading the way out to the clearing on the scant deck. He puffs out his chest. "The Avatar? Scared?"

He yelps and kicks out of the way in a blast of air when Zuko aims at him without warning. "Hey! You're not even in the proper stance!"

"The Avatar needs warning before an attack?" Zuko drawls, shifting into position this time. He's fast. Aang had forgotten how fast, and he just manages to defend, throwing quick blasts of fire whenever he gets the chance.

It's a good workout. Aang is sweating within minutes, on his toes constantly. It's easy to fall into a rhythm, like they used to do.

"See," Zuko yells over his continuous streams of fire, feeding a rolling sheet of flame now. It crashes towards Aang like a wave. "You should show a little deference to your firebending master," he says, panting.

Aang sprints and shoots right up above it. "Nah."

"You're cheating, anyway," Zuko says, nodding towards Aang hovering a foot off the deck. There's no real accusation behind it, after all, he's only proving his own aptitude.

Aang scoots and lands behind him. "Just using all my resources," - he dodges another blast, engulfing the next one with his own - "I miss this," he yells. "No one in Republic City ever really brings their best to me. Too much reverence for the Avatar, I guess," he muses.

"Sounds misguided," Zuko remarks, eyes twinkling. Aang has him backed up towards the wooden taffrail.

Aang laughs, suddenly really breathless. He follows Zuko almost mindlessly to the edge, leaning over it ever so casually. "Is this cheating, too?" A flick of his fingers over the rail, and a long stream of water hits Zuko right in the face.

Zuko doesn't jump. He just stares at Aang, pure disdain written across his face.

This never gets old. But Zuko makes a gruff noise, and he pins Aang against the rail in an instant, arm locked behind his back. Aang struggles but Zuko is strong. He's had way more actual fighting training than Aang ever did.

"New rule," Zuko breathes, his feet apart, steadier than the floor beneath them. "Since you clearly can't seem to stick with just firebending, let's get rid of them all. Hand to hand combat. You never know when you'll need it."

Aang stops trying to wriggle out of his grip. "Okay," he says, twisting his head around so his eyes are levelled to Zuko's. "If that's how you want to play." He ducks out under the arc of Zuko's arm, pinning the weight Zuko has on his wrists right back onto him. It's almost enough, except that Aang doesn't have the space to create a strong stance, to bear down his weight. He wobbles and falls back, spinning air before he can hit the floor.

"I said no bending," Zuko says, exasperated.

Aang lowers himself gently onto the floor. He scratches his head, looking sheepishly up at Zuko. "Sorry," he blinks. "Didn't want to fall on my butt." He can't help but be ecstatic at how ruffled Zuko finally looks: his sleeves are rolled haphazardly, his hair is wet and half out of its hold, he even forgot to dry off. The thought is hilarious for some reason. Aang smiles up sunnily.

Zuko grumbles; looks up and away before glancing back. His body is rigid, clearly done with Aang's antics and the sparring. He is breathing hard, though, even as he rolls his eyes.

Aang jumps up and slings an arm around him. "Breakfast?"

He's extremely aware of how sweaty they are, how Zuko's heart is pounding from the adrenaline, just like his. They really haven't done this in so long. Aang's forgotten how to manage it.

They find nuts and dried food in the storeroom below deck; not wanting to bother anyone this early. The few members of the crew that aren't asleep are probably just ending their night shift.

Zuko finally seems normal again, not a trace of the stress from the first night on board. He's peeling apart a peach on the table. The action is intensely concentrated, a delightful contrast to his wonky hairpiece.

Aang smiles.

He couldn't - he wouldn't. Never, ever, because of Katara, not in a million billion years, if she even said a word. He knows there isn't anything wrong with the way he feels. The monks said it was possible - and he even saw it, when they would come around during festival seasons - the clans of air nomads who were not sworn to temples often lived like that. There were families of every size, shifting, changing, not set in pairs but not aimlessly thrown together, either. They had bonds.

But there aren't any more air nomads. And it is laughable, really, how far-fetched the idea is. He can't keep Zuko, he's the head of a nation.

"What are you gonna do when we land?" Zuko asks. "After the assurances and the kissing babies, I mean."

Aang furrows his brows. "I don't know what they'll want to put me up to, but I have an idea." He sits up and swirls his tea with a finger held carefully above it. "There's gotta be something going on down there," he says. "Massive earthquakes like this don't just happen for no reason."

"Spirits, you mean."

"I'm pretty sure."

"Are you going to look for it in Daoshu - whatever it is?"

Aang nods. "I have a feeling I might have to go into the Spirit World, though. Nothing with that much power would stick around in this realm."

Zuko gives him a skeptical look across the rounded table. "Good luck with that."

"Just because you don't have a spiritual bone in your body," Aang says over a sip.

Zuko scoffs. "I just don't think I'd want the pleasure of dealing with a creature that can cause thousands of deaths over what's probably a temper tantrum."

Aang considers this. "I guess I don't envy you, either." Zuko's words from the first day come to mind.

He's met with a small smile across the table. It's a win, at the end of their journey. "Well it's good that we stick to our own jobs, then."