Zuko barreled through the corridors of the palace, not even caring where his long, livid strides took him. More than anything, he wanted to scream in rage, smash down the walls, burn the silken tapestries. But instead, he simply moved ahead with a mindless purpose toward nowhere. He kept on walking and didn't stop or notice where he was going until he suddenly found himself squinting against the daylight.

His fury sputtered out into disorientation, as he looked around to get his bearings. He was relieved to find himself standing at the steps of the palace; at least he hadn't gotten lost. Now that he was there, however, he wasn't sure where to go next. So he merely sat down off to the side of the wide platform and put his head in his hands.

He hadn't been there long when he heard a clamor and glanced up to notice a number of palace guards rushing up the stairway in a state of panic. Without even perceiving his presence, they hurried into the palace and addressed the sentries stationed inside.

"Find General How," one of them barked. "We have a problem at the palace gates and we need him here immediately."

This piqued Zuko's interest, and without a second thought, he slipped quietly into the shadow of a towering pillar. No one had detected he was even there…and he intended to keep it that way.

After finishing his tale, Iroh looked around at the faces of his audience. He had told them everything; about his nephew's outspoken defiance in the war room, the brutal Agni Kai, Prince Zuko's banishment and the terms for his return, Zhao's attempt to kill the young man, Azula's trickery to bring him home, and how the two were now fugitives from their own country.

Everyone but Aang wore expressions of complete shock and distress. Even Momo seemed unusually subdued, as if in response to the palpable sadness in the room. But the Avatar somehow didn't seem surprised so much as pensive, and it was Toph who finally broke the silence.

"I had a general idea about what he was going through with his father, but…I never imagined it was so…awful," she whispered painfully.

"How could someone…I mean, if dad had ever…" stammered Sokka, fumbling over his words as he tried to wrap his brain around the mere thought, the impossible idea of ever receiving such a cruel punishment from his own loving father. He turned to Iroh and finally managed a complete sentence, "How can you two even be related to that…monster."

"I've often wondered the same thing myself, actually," Iroh responded ruefully. "But now you begin to understand why this situation affects Zuko so."

"He doesn't expect you to receive any mercy," Aang answered quietly with his head bowed. He then looked up at his friends, "We do because we've experienced it. But Zuko…" his voice trailed off for a moment as his eyes became remote. At last, he spoke again, this time to Iroh. "I'm glad you told us this."

"Yeah," Sokka agreed softly, "I never liked Zuko, for obvious reason, and I've had my doubts about him joining us, but this…this puts everything in a completely different light."

"Makes it kind of hard to hate him, doesn't it," Toph said to Sokka meaningfully. The young warrior only nodded silently in reply.

At this point, Aang realized that only Katara had not said anything yet. He looked over to see that she was staring distantly at the Pai Sho board in front of her, as though it were a crystal ball in which she was watching some other occurrence.

"Katara-?" Aang ventured.

"I offered to heal him," she whispered faintly. Everyone turned to regard her inquisitively, but waited for her to explain. She finally snapped out of her unfocused haze and looked up at the others briefly before casting her eyes down again as she elaborated.

"I offered to heal his scar, when we were trapped beneath the city a few days ago. I was going to try using the water from the Spirit Oasis. I don't know why I felt compelled to, it just…he seemed to...to need it. He was so different that day, so changed. And I thought…it could help him so much."

"That…that could have changed everything," Aang breathed. "Why didn't you do it?" he asked with stunned disappointment.

"You and Iroh showed up to rescue us," she shrugged simply. "I didn't get the chance."

"Oh," Aang mumbled meekly, then the horrible realization dawned on him, and he gasped. "OH…" The room tilted dangerously with the horrendous velocity of abrupt understanding as the moment in question flashed before his eyes. They were standing so close. She was holding the vial of Oasis Water! No, no. I should have listened to Guru Patik, if I hadn't showed up…no wonder he fought alongside his sister. This is practically my fault. His thoughts broke off as Katara continued.

"Of course, there's nothing to be done for it now," she said softly, more to herself than to anyone else. "I used the water to save Aang. It's gone." There was no regret in her voice, only sorrow.

"It's just as well," said Iroh ponderingly. When the comment was met with gapes of confusion and disbelief, he ventured an explanation.

"I don't think at that time he fully understood that he could never go back home. He still believed that Ozai would forgive him, and removing his scar would only have given him hope that his life could return to the way it was before he was banished. Had you healed him, he'd not even have the scar to remind him of his father's cruelty. In his mind, things would have been perfect. But he would have been wrong, and the Avatar would not have survived as a result. Destiny has a way of making sure things happen as they should," he finished somewhat contemplatively, as if just now comprehending a divine truth.

"And I suppose you think destiny is 'keeping things on track' with this trial?" Sokka mumbled unhappily. He liked the old man, and hated the idea of him being punished for his past.

"Perhaps," Iroh answered musingly. "The fact that I am even getting trial means they have not made up their mind as to whether or not I will face punishment. But regardless of their decision, I am not the one for whom you should be so concerned."

The four teens bowed their heads and looked away somewhat shamefully. They had all been so worried about Iroh that none of them really stopped to consider just how much the possibility of losing him would really affect the banished prince. Seeing that they were starting to grasp this concept, Iroh drove the point home.

"Zuko has never had the luxury or benefit of true friendship. If he is to get through this, he will need your patience and companionship."

"Then that's exactly what we will give him," Aang promised, "all of us."

And the other three nodded in sincere agreement.

"Well, it looks like you were right about one thing," declared Smellerbee resentfully as she tossed the morning post onto the rickety bed.

"Right about what?" asked the young man through painfully gritted teeth as he slowly eased himself upright. His ribs were tightly wound in bandages and although he was mending and past the threat of death, it still hurt to move.

"Read for yourself," was her simple reply as she stood at a rough wooden table and busied herself with a small basin and a pitcher of water.

Carefully, he picked up the paper and scanned through it. As he turned to the next page and his gaze fell on the image printed there, his eyes widened. Recovering from the shock, they then narrowed darkly.

"So the old man wasn't just any fire bender, but the Dragon of the West himself. And that means his nephew 'Lee' is actually…." He growled and flung the paper aside.

"Did you read all of it?" she asked as she watched the papers settle to the floor.

"I don't have to," he said, trying to calm down; getting aggravated only made the pain in his broken ribs worse. "I'm just glad the authorities finally caught on to their little masquerade."

"You didn't read it then," she snapped as she snatched the paper up off the floor.

"It's not like the details are that important," he replied wearily and a bit confused.

"Jet, that rumor we heard about the Earth King almost being overthrown was true."

"What!?" he exclaimed as he yanked the pages back out of Smellerbee's hands to read it more carefully.

"They helped get the King back on the throne," she said pointedly. "They're on our side now."

"Oh yeah? Then why is he on trial?" he retorted.

"I don't know," she said in a small voice, "but it doesn't seem fair."

"Fair? What's not fair about a couple of fire benders finally getting what's coming to them? You don't actually believe this garbage do you?" he asked as he tapped the pages with his hand. "The whole thing was probably a conspiracy and the Earth King was just lucky enough to uncover it before any real harm was done. The Dai Li were probably in on the whole thing. Why else would they brainwash me and try to keep people from talking about the war?"

"Well, I still don't like it. He may have been the Dragon of the West before, but now he's just a nice old man who is going to be executed even though he finally did the right thing," replied Smellerbee sadly, as she passed a wet rag over her face to clean it.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Jet said coldly, "something doesn't feel right about all of this," as he held up the papers in his hand. "I don't trust it."

"You know," Smellerbee mulled thoughtfully as she slid out of her battered, lumpy armor and picked up a plain brown dress from a nearby chair, "I think I liked you better when you were still brainwashed."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked hotly.

"I mean," came the muffled beginning of a reply from under the fabric of the dress she was pulling over her tunic, her voice becoming clear when her head popped through the collar as she started straitening the simple gown, "that I thought you were finally going to make good on your promise of starting a new life here, and put this hateful vendetta stuff behind you. But apparently," she continued, pulling her hair back from her face and securing it by wrapping a ribbon around her hairline, "some people just don't change." And she angrily snapped the loose ends into a knot at the base of her neck.

Jet just stared in disbelief at this 'new' Smellerbee as she tied a sash around her tiny waist, all the while casting him a haughty glare. Seeing that he had no reply, she finally spun on her heel to the leave the room.

"Where do you think you're going?" he shouted at her retreating form.

"To work, Jet," she shot back over her shoulder, "Your medicines and healers don't pay for themselves."

As she slammed the door behind her, Jet crumpled the papers in his hand and furiously threw the wad across the room, hissing at the pain in his side as he did so.

Much to everyone's surprise, General How did not arrive at the palace stairs alone. A very agitated looking Earth King strode alongside him with a deliberateness of step that no one could ever recall having seen in him before. This made the gathered guards extremely uncomfortable, and this unease was compacted by the fact that it was not the General, but the King who they were going to have to answer.

"What is going on here?" he demanded.

"Your Majesty," said the captain of the guard and he bowed low, "a mob has gathered at the palace gates. They are threatening the sentries and demand answers and information about the Dragon of the West."

"I see…," said the King archly, giving How a perturbed glance that the General refused to meet.

"How would you like us to handle this?" the man inquired hesitatingly, looking back and forth from the King to How, as if uncertain about which of the two he should even be asking.

"Well, General?" asked Kuei with cold expectancy. "This whole thing was your idea. How do you wish to handle it?"

General How seemed to mull the situation over for a moment before finally responding.

"Get the names of everyone gathered at the gates and see to it that they have a seat at the proceedings," he instructed calmly.

Once all the guards had left to carry out their orders, the King raised an eyebrow and addressed the general.

"Far be it from me to question your strategic prowess, General How," he stated with thinly veiled doubt, "but do you really think that is wise?"

"Your Majesty," How responded confidently, "we agreed that the only point of having this trial is to make a public spectacle of the entire affair. Your subjects need to see it with their own eyes and be reassured that the Dragon of the West will never threaten the City of Ba Sing Se ever again. If anything, this mob only proves we are doing the right thing. If we can't quell their demand for blood by rigging this trial, then nothing will ever satisfy them, and all our plans will be for naught."

Having heard more than he could stand, Zuko finally stepped out from his hiding spot: his soft voice as sharp and deadly as hardened steel, and his gold eyes glittering with murderous rage.

"And what plans might those be?"

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