Avatar: The Last Airbender Created By: Michael Dante DiMartino, Bryan Konietzko
Avatar: The Last Airbender Owned By: Nickelodeon, a subsidiary of Viacom
All original content and characters © Acastus

A/N: Sorry for the delay folks. As the incredibly cool Kakashi is fond of saying, "I got lost on the path of life." ASN, my job (our fiscal year ends June 30th) and other things have gotten in the way recently. Also, this chapter was hard to write. I think you'll understand. For those interested in seeing this story through to the end, don't worry, I won't stop until it's done.



Chapter XVIII – Long After Midnight: Part II

Iroh turned to resume his lonely vigil, but stopped short as his eyes detected a shadow at the entrance to his tent. His thoughts of melancholy vanished as he shifted seamlessly into a bending stance. Months of high intensity combat had taught him, and every other soldier who had survived this far, to be ready to fight for one's life at a moment's notice.

His body relaxed, but his mind quailed the moment the shadow spoke.

"So, do I need to take a ticket?" came the familiar voice with a trace of amusement, "I don't know anyone else who has a receiving line at four in the morning."

Xian stepped out of the tent and into the moonlight, a tired, but genuine smile on his face. He carried a black scroll tube in one hand. Iroh began to salute, but the gesture died with just a slight movement of his arm. He knew why his cousin was here. Just as Nikon had, Xian had come to say goodbye.

The world dimmed further in Iroh's perception as the adrenalin rush from the sudden intrusion drained away and a sick feeling of shame washed over him. He steadied himself by leaning on a neighboring crate. How much had he heard? Iroh wondered. Xian stepped forward to help, but his cousin waved him off.

"You startled me, cousin," Iroh replied lamely, "Nikon and I were just… exchanging farewells."

Xian nodded, failing to give any hint as to whether he had been privy to their conversation.

"And now, it is our turn," Xian affirmed patiently, "I too leave in a few hours. We will either meet again in the southern pass, or… we won't. Either way, we have a few things to talk about, you and I."

Iroh eyed the black tube in his cousin's hand. Its polished surface reflected the moonlight as Xian turned slightly to face him. A few moments passed, but the tightness in Iroh's chest had returned. He did not trust himself to reply. Anger, fear, shame and frustration warred within him. He squeezed his eyes shut to prevent the tears he felt burning his eyes from falling.

"You're afraid of losing us," Xian stated simply with a nod of his head, "I know."

At this the Crown Prince sank to his knees.

"Please, cousin," Iroh pleaded, his voice thick, "Let me…"

"No," Xian cut him off gently, dropping to the ground in front of Iroh, " I know what you want to ask, but you cannot come with us," he continued, shaking his head, "Don't misunderstand, I would do… anything to have you there with me."

"Then let me come, I can help, I promise…"

"I know you could," Xian assured him, then with quiet pride and satisfaction continued, "You have become a great warrior, and an even greater leader, just as I knew you would. You are feared by your enemies, loved by your friends, your soldiers, and the people. It is because of that, that I cannot let you come with us. If I'm wrong, if it's a trap, you will be needed here."

Looking deep into his cousin's eyes, Xian pressed forward in a firmer voice, "Iroh, if the worst befalls me, I want you to open this and do as it instructs."

One moment Iroh was awash with emotion, seemingly incapable of influencing what he felt, let alone understanding or controlling the situation around him. The next, he felt still, as if the veil of dreadful silence which enveloped the camp had penetrated his very soul. Iroh felt his grip weaken on his cousin's arm, then, a moment later, he felt his hand fall leaden into his lap.

Slowly Xian extended his other hand and offered him the black tube.

"Do you understand?"

The dark cylinder hung between them. Iroh reached out and took the tube. It felt cold and hard, a slice of death.

"Yes," Iroh supplied in a flat tone, his gaze sliding off his cousin and focusing on nothing.

"Good," then, after a few moments of silence continued, "Are you all right?"

Iroh turned slowly back to Xian and said, "All right? You're telling me you're going to die, and you ask me if I am all right?"

"I did not say that, Iroh," Xian reproached with a trace of sternness, "This is a precaution. I do not know why Tien Shin pushed this attack so strongly, but I suspect his motives, as do Nikon and Gan."

"Then call off the attack!" Iroh roared suddenly, his cheeks flushing red, "If you believe it's a trap, whether begat by Nifong or Tien Shin, then why go?"

Xian sighed. It had been less than twelve hours since that question had arisen, and yet he was as tired of it as if it had plagued him his whole life.

Waiting for Iroh to calm himself before he replied, Xian finally answered, his voice rising in intensity as he went, "For two reasons, Iroh. First, because I don't know it's a trap. And if it's not, then this is the opportunity we've been waiting for to turn the war around. Imagine for a moment," he continued, a pained expression twisting his gentle facial features, "if this were our true opening, and we failed to seize it? Could we ever forgive ourselves for wasting what is probably our last opportunity to end this… this… endless, hateful massacre we call a war? And if we fail here now, how will we feel about the hundreds of thousands of our people who surely will die before we are finally conquered?"

"Yes, cousin," Xian continued at Iroh's shocked expression, "conquered. For surely the Fire Nation shall be conquered if we fail. The Fire Lord has summoned the entire strength of the empire for this campaign, and if we suffer the same fate as my father the Fire Nation will not survive long."

"Do you really believe the situation is that bad, cousin?" asked Iroh in barely a whisper.

"Yes, I do, and so does the Fire Lord."

"What is the second reason?" Iroh prompted after a moment of shocked silence.

"Second," Xian continued, "because whether he is plotting or not, I can find no gap in Tien Shin's logic. If I fail to prosecute the war, your father will have me executed for treason when I return. Tien Shin will see to that. You know that, don't you?"

Emotionally exhausted, Iroh nodded glumly and looked at the ground between them.

"Now," Xian continued in a more relaxed tone, "I have some good news for you."

Iroh lifted his head to meet his cousin's eyes. Xian looked old and tired in the pale light of the water tribe's patron spirit, but his gaze was steady.

"Normally the Qu'ai Tau would accompany us on such a venture, to make sure the troops don't take for themselves the spoils of victory that rightfully belong to the Fire Lord, you understand," he said with a quiet laugh, "but in this case I have asked Gan to remain with you. Nikon, of course, must go."

"Thanks," he replied, lowering his head once again. This news failed utterly to provide any comfort to the Crown Prince. It did nothing to lift the pall of dread that had settled on his soul, or limit the anguish he felt at being left behind while his cousin and his best friend went to fight for their lives and the fate of the Fire Nation.

"Don't look so sad, cousin," Xian prodded, his smile widening, "look at the bright side, at least I'm taking Chieng along."

Iroh, jolted briefly from his despair, laughed hollowly and quipped, "Just make sure she's out front, would you?"

"Not a bad idea," Xian mused, "if Nifong has the same reaction to her as everyone else I doubt he'll even show up at all! On the other hand, if he does show up," equivocated Xian, successfully avoiding reuse of the word "trap", "maybe running him over with one of her tank trains is our best hope."

"She certainly has courage," remarked Iroh absently.

Both sighed and lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

"What are you thinking about now, cousin?" queried Iroh after some time had passed.

Xian looked at the ground and replied without a trace of irony, "Oh, your favorite story, actually, the Battle of the Coral Sea."

Iroh nodded once and looked down as well, for he thought he understood why his cousin's mind would stray to that tale at such a time.

"I know you hate the story after hearing it so many times, but I never stopped loving it," Xian began to explain, "After father died, I couldn't wait for the Harvest Moon feast to come so I could hear it again. No matter how bad the storyteller was, it didn't matter… I just wanted to feel like my father was still alive..."

'My favorite part, you know, was always the night between the first and second day of the battle, when your father and my father's ships had been separated, and the situation looked bad, really bad. The best storytellers always conjured up for me images of my father's mighty battleship, the Atragon, wounded but unbowed, standing with a hundred other ships of the line blocking the Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom's combined fleet, the wrecks of hundreds of Fire Nation and enemy ships between them."

"I used to dream of him standing on the bridge that night, looking at the stars, trying to make the best decision he could in such an awful situation. Trapped with his ships in the bay, I know your father did the same."

"You know the rest. The night attack turned the battle around and two days later the enemy was destroyed. Your father and mine became heroes, just as they should have been. But that night…" he said wistfully, "that night… they were just as vulnerable and afraid as we are now… or worse."

"I used to wonder at how smart, strong and brave they were, and I wanted to be just like them. Then, not long before he left and never returned, I asked father how he knew to attack that night, and you know what he said?"

"No, what did he say?"

"He said, "I didn't. I took the risk and prayed for victory." I never really believed him until long after he died when I got some experience under General Shu. Now I know," Xian concluded bitterly, "no matter how carefully one plans or how virtuous you are, luck, fate or fortune, whatever you want to call it, rules us all."

Then, suddenly, Xian smiled, slapped Iroh's knee once and stood up. Iroh immediately followed suit.

"Now, cousin, time to part company."

Xian stepped forward and hugged his cousin fiercely.

"You will make an excellent Fire Lord one day. I am so proud of you."

Iroh tried desperately to reply, but he choked. He raised his arms across his cousin's shoulders and the black tube he still held in his hand came to rest across his cousin's back.

"Don't forget me," Xian said finally through gritted teeth in a choked voice of his own.

"Never," Iroh replied thickly, his eyesight obscured by a flood of tears, "Don't you forget me."

"Never, no more than I could forget mother or father," his cousin vowed.

Xian released his cousin and wiped his eyes. He looked over his cousin's shoulder to see the first rosy fingers of dawn staining the eastern sky.

"Time to go," he said quickly, then added, "and remember what I said about the instructions."

Iroh nodded as he wiped his own eyes. A moment later Xian turned and walked away using the same path Nikon had earlier. Miserable, Iroh sat down once again, knowing he had just seen his cousin for the last time.


"…and so," the Storyteller concluded, "their miserable hour come round at last, General Xian and Nikon Orlando departed for the Meiji Pass on treads of iron and hearts of lead. The death ride of the Army of the Great Divide began with favorable weather and good spirits amongst the soldiers of the Fire Nation, and ended with everlasting glory for the Earth Kingdom on the blood soaked shores of Lake Myojin…"

Iroh, unable to thrust aside any longer the images of his cousin and his son, realized with horror that he had begun to cry. "Forgive me, Prince Zuko, now I have failed you as well…"