characters: aang, katara, sokka, zuko.
etc: now that my new job isn't killing me, this will.
…
vii. freedom and high fidelity
of learning about loss
…
He is a lot smarter than any of them will give him credit for.
Granted, Zuko is a lot of things that none of the Avatar's friends have come to understand quite yet, and though there are some things he is willing to grant leniency with, there are other things (the only firebender I've ever seen with a scar) that he cannot, and that he will not pardon.
So, when Sokka slips down the side of Appa's saddle in surprise, he is willing to let the implications sink in. He is more attentive to the group than they seem to think he is, and knowing well enough to lie in wait for Sokka to emerge in the middle of the night is a testament to that fact. If there is anything that he wants to say, he keeps it bottled carefully to himself.
"Let me help you," Zuko says with a rasp, tilts his head in the opposite direction, and though he can sense the apprehension in the contours of Sokka's face, the other boy follows him without hesitation.
He is silent in those fractions of seconds, staring at Zuko with eyes that look too much like Katara's, except softer and darker and so much more experienced. "Why? Why do you want to help me?"
It's something Zuko has to think about as he leads Sokka down towards the space he'd landed his airship, ignoring the points of rocks into the soft bottoms of his boots. By the time they arrive, he's not sure he has an answer for him. Zuko isn't sure there is an answer.
Those are the moments Zuko remembers when they return to the Western Air Temple. He is exhausted, but he is smiling because Sokka is smiling because his family is complete. Maybe it is not truly complete, perhaps fragmented but still reliable, and jealousy bites at the back of his throat for the occasion. He should be happy for them, but there is a shadow of something selfish and malevolent that threatens to bleed darkness into the white light of his emotions.
Zuko slips into the temple wordlessly, trying to blink the image of Katara and Sokka embracing their father from behind the color splashes on his eyelids. And he should be paying better attention, because he nearly flinches at the sound of a voice directly in front of him.
"Hey," and the nervous laugh completely gives the young Avatar away, "careful there, Sifu Ho—"
"Aang," he interjects wearily, completely unaware of how close he'd come to colliding with him, "what are you doing?"
He watches the sheepish blush crawl across his features, and he knots his fingers together, locks them down against his legs. "I was—do you mind training with me some more, Sifu? Because…I don't think I've got it quite right." There is something fidgety in Aang's posture, and it throws Zuko for a loop, drives him mad trying to decipher it.
But in the end, he acquiesces. "Sure," he flexes his hands, listening to the crack of his knuckles, and watches the way Aang's face lights up. Still, there is something sad underlined in his expression, but Zuko doesn't press; he is still far too fragile from being pressed himself, still too worn from his own experiences.
Aang leads them into an open space within the temple, with a high-domed ceiling and dead leaves gathered in the corners. It still impresses Zuko on an otherworldly level, to imagine a civilization living in the clouds and freefalling from the sides of cliffs like it was just a part of their daily routine.
He smiles, though Zuko knows within minutes he will be whining under the heat, under the stress, and he can't help but return it with a tight-lipped smile.
Zuko focuses on the sound of the flames cutting through the air as they cycle through their routine warm-ups. Aang is still new, but he follows them with a slight delay, tries to remember which way to turn his arms and how to stagger his feet apart and when to keep his muscles tight.
But the second and third and fourth time around, he is in sync with Zuko, swaying back and forth with sweat falling into the crease of his neck, and Zuko smiles at the transformation, at the gentle hum he feels now when fire is coursing through him.
It no longer destroys him inside out, it no longer frays him.
"I'm happy," Aang says suddenly, and his leg pauses in the middle of a kick, fire trailing behind his heels before he drops back down into their starting pose, "but there's something else, you know."
Zuko blinks, his brows furrowed and eyes focused on Aang. "Do tell," he says, collapses down into a cross-legged position before he strips off the outer layer of his robe, wiping his face in the back of it.
"Everyone I knew here is gone," he says factually, like his name, like the air he coils around his fingers so effortlessly, "my family and my friends and I can't go anywhere to find them, not like Katara and Sokka and you can."
There's no word for the way his heart flares with emotion, because even though everything waiting for him is still rife with pain, it is still there. Aang is alone, except for the rest of these jaded wartime children, and it is the first time since he saw the rush of power from Aang's glowing eyes that he realizes.
Aang is still a child with feelings, a child who restrains the great sea of sadness within him. It makes Zuko feel small, infinitesimally small in comparison to the things that break him down.
"How do you do that?" Zuko's smile is wry, half hidden in the scarlet fabric he twists around his hands. "My father…I used to long for his affection, until he—scarred me—and then I didn't know what I really wanted. I thought I wanted to return home but somewhere on my way back home, there was something else I wanted, too. How do you make me feel like there is even anything in my life worth having?"
His eyes go big, but Aang smiles too, wide and genuine. "Because life is worth having," he nods, "that's what I was always taught. And you're strong, Sifu Hotman. Even stronger than me, to have a valuable life with both happiness and pain. That's what makes it such a good life."
It seems almost prophetic to hear Aang's words, but he can't help but tip his head up towards him and stare, like he still isn't used to the way he can be, a child one moment and a spiritual beacon the next. And Aang only smiles that goofy smile of his, like he's just made a terrible joke, and falls down to sit beside Zuko.
Life is funny this way, being side by side with the mythical Avatar that he'd never thought he would stumble across. He can't help but marvel over Aang for a moment, because simply by being there, he transcends everything. Maybe, one day, Zuko will thank him for rescuing him from a life of floating away at sea.
"Still," he says, piercing through Zuko's stray thoughts, "I'm happy for Sokka. Katara, too."
The topic lingers in the air between them, and Zuko can feel the way Aang's eyes bore into the side of his face, but he doesn't say anything. Aang seems to pick up on the hint fairly quick.
"Ready for another round?" he asks, sifts his fingers through the dark fringe of his hair, allows himself to smirk playfully towards Aang. Air sweeps up underneath the two of them, but it carries Aang to his feet gracefully, Zuko standing soon after him.
He can feel the fire brimming on his knuckles as he takes his place beside Aang, but there's a heavy bang and then angry footsteps headed in their direction. Zuko braces himself for something, for anything, and he's right to.
Katara appears before them like a sunken whirlwind, her eyes deep and clearly marked with tears, her face drawn together in one line of frustration. Zuko turns his gaze to Aang, but that is his mistake, because when he turns, he can feel the chill of her skin pressed against his chest, a fist against his heart.
He blinks, and she is standing face-to-face with him, glaring up into his surprised eyes.
"Aang," she says, though she looks into his eyes, and something within him hardens, "we're having a mediation. Right now."
…
notes: i owe shannon for advising me on this, she's really a gem.