"I'm not going to argue with you," Zuko yelled into the phone, very much aware that he was doing exactly that. "We don't have time. Those raids need to happen now."

Haru's trial was in recess, and in other phonebooths in the courthouse, reporters were relaying the news to their bosses, their faces excited, but also cautious. Their voices were low, attempting to prevent their competition from overhearing what they were sure would be the story of the century. Widespread mob conspiracies in Chicago; mob wars; who really runs the city; secret arms deals. Zuko could only imagine the sensationalist headlines that would plague the papers the next day.

"You're asking for a lot," Iroh replied. "How many places?"

"Three," Zuko replied quickly, having already done the math. "Gyatso's warehouse, The Blue Bison, and The Temple. Thirty men each, armed. No less than twenty five. Priority to The Blue Bison. We've got my detectives, plus the FBI agents here. Xin Fu's already put in a call for twenty men from a nearby post. That gives us thirty-five total—"

"These numbers you're asking for…" Iroh sighed. "We just can't do that. I'll pull as many officers as I can off the streets, but ninety men? That can't sound practical, even to you."

Zuko leaned his head against the glass, frustrated. He knew what he was asking for was a lot, but he was thinking of the safety of his men. To go in with so few bodies… They would be risking their lives on uncertain odds. They could only get a rough estimate on how many people worked at the casino, and that would have to do. If they managed to get the raid moving that night, though, there was always a chance that the casinos would be full of patrons. The more civilians present, the less the chance for a shootout. Of course, the mob was much better armed, so Zuko didn't want to push his luck. Xin Fu tapped on the glass, nodding back toward the courtroom.

"Look, I've got to go," Zuko said into the receiver. "I'll take whatever numbers you can give me."

"I'll do my best," Iroh promised.

"Kiss the kids for me. Tell them I said to behave. I'll try to call Katara and let her know—"

"Don't worry about it," Iroh said, chuckling. "I'll take care of it. And the children are as well behaved as ever—"

"Then I should expect the place to turned over when I get back?"

At this, Iroh laughed outright. "They'll make fine detectives when they get older. They've already found my hidden stash of snacks, and humiliated two officers for having poor spelling and grammar. Kurzu is currently holding desk inspections, making sure everything's up to code."

Zuko smiled. His children were very inquisitive, he knew that, and sneaky to boot. They hardly let him or Katara get away with anything, so he'd expected nothing less when he took them to the office. Still, all the fussing he'd hear from his colleagues would be worth it for the pride on his children's faces when they talked about just how much they'd done, or how they kept the office in order while he was gone. They were convinced that Zuko ran the entire office, despite Zuko reminding them often that it was actually Iroh's job as precinct captain to do that.

"I'll see you in a little while," Zuko said, before exchanging farewells and hanging up the phone.

When they returned to their seats in the courtroom, Jet informed them that Mai and her father left, a whole host of reporters trailing them.

"She left this for you, though," Jet said with a sad smile, handing Zuko a folded up piece of paper.

Tentatively, Zuko unfolded the piece of paper, read through Mai's note once, then a second time, fury growing as he did so.

My old friend,

I know you have done your best to forget everything that linked us together, but we're not so different, you and I. You would do well to never forget your roots. This gift I have given you is equal parts reprieve and punishment. Had you accepted my offer, you would not have to rush this raid, and some of your men wouldn't have to die in the events that follow. Even if you keep up your wife's wild and idiotic optimism with others, you and I are closer in natural disposition, and I know you would not lie to yourself. You play a dangerous game, and there is no way to avoid bloodshed. I have always considered you my equal, and it is a shame that we will not be on the same side. When retribution rains down on those who have done my family wrong, be sure that I cannot count you among those numbers. Azula would be beside herself with grief should something happen to you.

My father is also interested in speaking with you, though on a personal rather than professional level. I suspect he does not like the way you look at me. A pity that Katara will hear of our affair this way.

Mai

Zuko clenched the note in his fist. He couldn't even focus on the rest of the trial. He knew when he was slowly being lured into a trap. To make matters worse, Mai wasn't even trying to hide it; she was making her moves known to him. Zuko wanted to say this was born of desperation, that The Governor's influence was waning, but given this display of power at The Moustache's trial, Zuko knew that would only be a lie to make himself feel better. If he didn't do what Mai wanted, it wouldn't even matter that he'd never touched Mai, that she'd never made any advances toward him, that she'd only had a childhood crush on her good friend's attractive older brother.

Rumors and insinuations didn't need to rely on truth.

.O.

This was not the way Zuko would prefer for the raids to go down. Iroh had done an impressive job of rounding up such great numbers on such short notice, but it still fell short of what Zuko wanted. He hadn't needed to tell Iroh, but the number ninety had been the bare minimum. Iroh managed to gather seventy-eight, but split three ways, that was twenty-six people in each group. They would have to be extra cautious. Mai knew exactly what she was doing when she made Haru reveal the location of an enemy establishment selling liquor. Even if she didn't know that Aang was already under investigation, she knew their resources would be stretched thin trying to keep up with him. She was reminding Zuko of his relative powerlessness.

"You ready, chief?" one of the Operation Soap Bubbles detectives asked.

Zuko smirked. They were all looking to him for instruction. Standing outside The Blue Bison, twenty-six detectives, FBI agents, and beat cops behind him, Zuko was chief. This was his leg of the raid, and these men were fully under his command. Xin Fu would be leading the raid on The Temple, and Iroh had agreed to take the warehouse, leaving the big busts to the two lead detectives who'd worked the case.

And this was the payoff.

Hand on the gun at his waist, Zuko opened the door, motioning the men in behind him. They poured in the door, some officers with their guns drawn, attracting the attention of the patrons on the ground level. Zuko scanned the crowd of stunned faces, women with ermine stoles and diamonds and pearls covering their mouths with silk-gloved hands. The men in their suits and ties, hats sitting on the edges of pool tables, or hastily placed to conceal tumblers of alcohol, shrank back from those at the door. Two detectives at the back of the crowd closed and locked the door, trapping everyone inside. Zuko glanced down quickly; the carpet was that same ghastly shade of electric blue as Aang's tie, but matched with crème walls, it wasn't an entirely unpleasing effect. The room was bright, and the gold detailing on the walls added a bit of opulence to the otherwise plain room.

The patrons were the glittering jewels; there was none of that evident on the hanging light fixtures, no thick golden ropes to hold back velvet curtains. There were no ornate chandeliers, no mirrors on the walls. The wait staff stood out in white coattails with black buttons and black tuxedo pants, their shoes polished to a high gloss, their trays silver, and the glassware reflecting the light blindingly in their eyes.

Normally, Zuko would need to wait for proof that The Blue Bison did, in fact, serve alcohol. Not this time. It was evident in the air, leaden with the smell of whisky and fine, spicy wines. Those bright champagne flutes were not filled with sparkling cider; in the still silence, Zuko could almost hear the bubbles popping with a satisfying sizzle that would bring any connoisseur to their knees.

"Well," he said into the air, "I suggest someone get me the manager. This establishment is in violation of the Prohibition Act."

For a few tense moments, no one moved, just stared at the agents with their eyes wide and their mouths open. Zuko willed himself to calm, to keep his heart rate as even as possible, to keep the adrenaline at bay for as long as possible. He didn't want to be too jumpy before anything even happened. He needed his mind to be clear just in case any of those waiters turned out to be doing double duty.

"We…we're just following order, sir," one brave waiter said, his arms visibly trembling, sweat along his brow.

"Then follow this order and get the manager," Zuko replied tersely.

The waiter nodded, and hurried off as another detective stepped forward giving instructions for everyone to remain seated and to pull out their identification. Slowly, three detectives made their way around the room, collecting information and doing their best to keep the general public calm. Zuko remained where he was, poised on the balls of his feet, ready to move in an instant's notice. That waiter was gone for nearly five minutes, and Zuko didn't like that at all.

"Where's your boss?" Zuko asked the moment the manager walked into the room.

"He's gone out of the country," the middle aged man stumbled, clearly taken aback by Zuko's abrupt tone. "I was trying to reach him, sir. That's why it took me so long."

"You were given no such instructions. If you can't follow a simple directive, then it's a surprise you haven't been fired yet," Zuko said testily, reaching into his back pocket as he stepped to the manager, flanked by four detectives. "You're under arrest."

The manager put up a little fuss, but other than him, most people simply looked embarrassed, and as if they wanted nothing more than to have their names kept out of the morning paper. That didn't mean Zuko was about to let his guard down, and he sent warning looks to his men to remind them that, still, anything could happen. Each person was a potential threat, and it was impossible for them to keep the place secure with so few people on their side. There was no point in even trying; the best they could do was remain vigilant and keep their eyes open for any potential threats.

Zuko didn't want to sound ungrateful, but he wasn't terribly fond of the way everyone was just rolling over for them. It didn't sit right with him, even as they carted away half of the staff.

.O.

After dinner, with the children put to bed and the coffee consumed, Zuko reclined on the couch, letting his head droop over the back. He stretched his feet out under the coffee table, his tie in a pile on the seat next to him, and the top buttons of his shirt undone.

"You shouldn't push your luck," Katara said, curling up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll have other battles later, but for now, enjoy this easy victory."

Zuko curled his arm around his wife's waist, pulling her closer to him. She was right; he should just accept an easy victory, but life had taught him easy victories were anything but. It all came with a price, and that price would be exacted later.

"The manager said Aang left the country."

"You're thinking he didn't."

Katara smoothed the wrinkles in Zuko's shirt, inspecting the buttons and frowning. One of them was loose, and she twisted it in her hands, and Zuko kept his silence, knowing Katara was thinking something over. Finally she sighed, pulling away from Zuko to look him in the eyes. She placed her hand on his chest, and Zuko covered hers with his own, not wanting to hear what she was going to tell him.

"Aang is persistent. He always has been. Maybe he really did leave the country. You have to look on the positive side. This gives you an opportunity you wouldn't have if he stayed. With Aang gone, you can do things he was keeping you from doing while he was here. Don't sit on the couch and mope, silly."

She poked him in the forehead, and Zuko found himself smiling. He knew she did that specifically to make him smile; no matter the situation, that simple, goofy gesture always made him think of easier times between them, when they'd been younger and so completely in love that he neglected his work.

"When were you going to tell me you can read minds?" Zuko teased. "I haven't told you anything about this case other than we're investigating Aang. And that was to ask you for information about him."

"I'm a smart girl." Katara winked at him. "I read the papers. Most importantly, I know Aang. If there's something he doesn't want you to know, chances are you're not going to know it. So long as he has the power to deny you that knowledge, he will."

Zuko sighed and leaned his head back again, closing his eyes. Aang had connections, and he supposed Katara was right; if he was farther away, Aang couldn't possibly know what they were doing quick enough to stop them. He probably had spies everywhere, and depending on where Aang went, there would be a delay in the communication.

"I should convince Uncle to put you on the payroll," Zuko said, a smile creeping onto his face again, and his arm creeping back around his wife.

This time, Katara settled into his embrace with a smug smile. "As much advice as I give you, I should be on the payroll. I'm at least halfway responsible for all of your major arrests."

"Oh, come on," Zuko said, leaning back. "That's not true, and you know it."

"Who do you talk to when you can't figure something out?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean—"

"Hush, now," Katara said, patting his cheek. "These are only little details. The important thing is the big picture. You're doing what's right. It hurts sometimes to see what it does to you, and how hard you're pushing yourself, but… I'm proud of you."

Zuko kissed her forehead. "Thanks, Kitten. That means a lot to me."

"And you're important to me," Katara said, standing and stretching her back. She grabbed Zuko by the front of his shirt, pulling him off the couch. "So whatever else you do, you better stay alive."

Katara smirked before kissing Zuko, his shirt still fisted tightly in her hands. Zuko couldn't hold back his own smile. No other woman could be so alluring while she threatened him. For her, and for their children, for their love and for the life they deserved, he would stay alive.

With a new goal in sight, I think I'm finally ready to begin crafting the end of this story. It's a bittersweet moment because, while I'm glad that I've finally got an ending, the story is...well...ending. You guys have been absolutely great, and it warms my heart to read your reviews. I'm glad you're all so invested in this story, and that I've been able to brighten your days just a bit :)

I wanted to say something about the raid: it is anticlimactic for a reason ;) In the show, Aang pulls off his biggest stunts when his back's against the wall and he doesn't have many other options. As the pincers are closing in from two angles-the police and The Governor-Aang's getting a bit cornered. In the next couple of chapters, something's got to give. Also, I couldn't resist throwing Mai in there again. She's just so much fun to write, and this little idea for a one-shot with her and Azula keeps nagging me.

But, once again, I just want to thank everyone for reading. I'm glad you're going on this journey with me :)