Chapter Six

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Zuko had too much on his mind to sleep after returning to his ship. Helping the Earth Kingdom family had set him on a train of thought that he hated to even consider but felt compelled to dwell on nonetheless.

He'd gone out of his way to save the wife of a man who had been part of a rebellion against his people. Even though he hadn't known of the man's involvement with the rebels when he'd acted, he shouldn't have cared about a homeless Earth Kingdom family. He was the prince of the Fire Nation. Their situation should have meant nothing to him.

His father would be disgusted that it had. Such compassion would be nothing more than a weakness in his eyes.

But Uncle... Uncle acted like Zuko's so-called 'kind heart' was a good thing. Yes, his father was the Fire Lord and Uncle was considered a failure in the Fire Nation, but he also seemed so much happier.

Did that mean Zuko should follow Iroh, even if doing so meant healing injured Earth Kingdom peasants? Would that constitute going against the Fire Nation?

Considering the things he'd seen earlier, was going against the Fire Nation such a bad thing in the first place?

Zuko mentally revisited the places he'd traveled over the past three years, recalling the Earth Kingdom men and women with gray faces and stooped backs in the towns his people had already taken over, and those who were defiant towards him in the ones not yet under 'enemy' control. He'd always assumed they were simply too stupid to realize the Fire Nation was trying to help, but clearly there was more to it than that. After all, he couldn't blame them for rebelling if invading soldiers had burnt down their homes or hurt their families, especially in the areas that were already occupied. If the Fire Nation was so eager to resort to cruelty to control the people they conquered, maybe those people weren't out of line in fighting back.

Zuko told himself that his memories of the Earth Kingdom were tainted, that the family he'd helped had been an anomaly and the rebels in the tavern overly influenced by Earth Kingdom propaganda. Hell, even if everything they'd said had been true, there was always a chance that the soldiers at Osaka were simply a bad bunch.

The more he fought to justify his people, however, the more he realized how weak his arguments were. But what got him the most, what really rankled, was his surety that the Fire Lord wouldn't have approved of his conduct that evening.

What did it mean that Ozai would be furious with him when Zuko didn't regret helping that family in the least? When doing so had felt more right than anything he'd done since his banishment?

More than anything, that question eliminated even the slightest possibility of sleep.

The next morning, exhaustion left Zuko irritable. He avoided his crew, knowing that one wrong move on their part would make him snap, destroying the tentative understanding they'd reached with his uncle's help. He also tried to avoid Uncle, but the persistent old man found him anyway. Zuko had been sitting in the sick bay and sniffing at one of Akio's herbal creations, attempting to break down its composition and improve the medicine overall. He only had half an idea what he was doing, but the work kept his mind off everything he didn't want to think about.

Then Iroh burst into the room, face lighting up when he caught sight of Zuko.

"Ah, Prince Zuko! How was your mission last night?"

Zuko opened his mouth to admit that he'd gathered any information on the Avatar that he was likely to get, and that they should start heading in the general direction of Omashu.

But he didn't want to leave. Not yet.

His business in Osaka wasn't finished.

"I didn't find anything concrete. I'll have to go out again tonight."

Uncle eyed him. Zuko was a horrible liar, and Uncle obviously knew that he wasn't being honest. After a moment, however, the older man nodded slowly. "Very well, Prince Zuko... But only if you rest this afternoon. You look exhausted."

Feeling more at ease after declaring his intent to head into Osaka once more, Zuko actually listened to Uncle. The idea that he would get a better idea of what was going on in the harbor town went a long way in settling his thoughts, and after training, he was able to slip back into his room and catch a few precious hours of sleep.

After nightfall, he donned his mask and slipped back into town.

His first move was to retrace his steps from the previous evening, until he found himself at the mouth of the alley where he'd helped the family the night before. Zuko realized immediately that it was empty, although he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He'd brought money he could have given the family, but they really had needed to find somewhere new to settle. At least they'd moved on.

Curiosity somewhat satisfied on that account, Zuko left the alley and began a slow, snaking tour through the town.

His worst fears were quickly confirmed. The smell of smoke clung to the air, and unless an abundance of natural fires had started cropping up in a community right by the sea, the blacksmith's home wasn't the only one the Fire Nation had visited.

Zuko also noticed that the town had a disproportionately large number of homeless people.

Some weren't like the family he'd helped the night before. While he couldn't see them, he could smell and hear them, was aware of the sharp stink of alcohol on their breath and their drunken slurring and senseless murmurs.

But there were others, men and women and even children who clearly hadn't been homeless for long. Most were depressingly silent, but he caught a few snatches of conversation suggesting that Fire Nation officers had booted them into the streets so their homes could be used to quarter troops, or that little acts of so-called insurgence had been punished by a scorched livelihood.

Zuko tried– Agni, he tried –to justify the rare, telling whispers, but from first syllable he overheard, his doubts intensified tenfold. Horrified, he sneaked closer to the bodies and found himself appallingly fascinated by what he saw. Port cities were usually questionable, generally did have a large number of vagrants running around. Zuko had visited enough since leaving the Fire Nation to know that much. But this one, so crowded with Fire Nation troops, was a different kind of awful. Not seedy so much as depressing, more eerie than squalid.

Zuko didn't know what to think, so he settled for acting. He approached person after person, always with his hands held up to show he meant no harm even as he prepared to draw his swords and defend himself if necessary. He never spoke, simply knelt next to those who most needed his assistance and did his best to make things better. While most of the problems were things he could not fix, such as depression and starvation, he did his best with what he could. Sore throats and aching limbs and burns– so many burns –were easy enough and didn't cost him much energy at all, so he focused on those.

Although the Earth Kingdom citizens were initially suspicious, some actively threatening, those who did not chase him off or run away never failed to thank him profusely for his help. A little boy whose burnt arm he healed even hugged him.

Zuko couldn't do nearly as much as he would have liked, was exhausted to the bone after only an hour or so, but as he made his way back to his ship, things began settling in his head a little more clearly.

In Osaka, if nowhere else, the Fire Nation presence was detrimental.

Based on previous observation, Osaka probably wasn't as much of an oddity as he would have liked.

Finally and most prominently, Zuko had been able to help in some small way. Giving aid to those hurt by the Fire Nation, he realized with some degree of foreboding, had felt ridiculously fitting. Like he wasn't screwing up royally for the first time in his life. Slight an impact as he'd made, the reactions of those people told him that his efforts hadn't been entirely wasted. Not to them. Anyway, he couldn't help but think, I'm doing what any good ruler would—I'm fixing my nation's mistakes.

He was also acting a hundred kinds of treasonous, but when he thought of the alternative – of turning a blind eye to everything he'd seen – he knew that if his nation really thought showing basic human decency was wrong, maybe betraying them in that single regard wasn't such a bad thing. Either way, he wouldn't, couldn't stop.

The Earth Kingdom hadn't seen the last of the Blue Spirit.

Not by any means.

…

Zuko ordered his crew to set sail for Omashu the next day, although tracking the Avatar was no longer his immediate goal; rather, his plans for the Blue Spirit had taken precedence. He asked Uncle to further their work with outside sources of fire, motivated by the need to increase his healing capacity. Later, during his healing lesson, he inquired specifically about the field medicine training Akio had picked up earlier in his career. While the older man looked surprised at the request, he indulged Zuko and changed their focus to methods of treating medical problems as effectively as possible with little time and few supplies.

Before Zuko knew it, his ship reached the stretch of neutral coast nearest Omashu. Many of the surrounding villages had already been captured by the Fire Nation, and after a brief internal argument, Zuko told Uncle he was going out to search for news of the Avatar and set out as the Blue Spirit once more.

That first night he still tried to convince himself Osaka had been a fluke, but an evening spent dodging local soldiers and overhearing whispers of what happened to those caught out after curfew killed that hope. On Zuko's subsequent excursions, he wasn't surprised to hear bits and pieces of other things the Fire Nation had done, from soldiers collecting twice as much in taxes as was required, to others locking away citizens for breaking minor laws or burning them in retaliation for petty insults.

His outings typically consisted of little more than this eavesdropping, but every now and then he came across situations that required his interference—sometimes in the form of his healing, but more frequently through stopping fights between irate peasants and drunk or angry soldiers. Of course, playing peacemaker wasn't difficult; one look at his mask, and both parties often ran off without a backwards glance. Even when the soldiers refused to back down, Zuko had little trouble putting his training with Jee to good use, dodging sporadically thrown flames until he got close enough to knock the men unconscious with the broadside of his swords.

Regardless, Zuko hated that the fights took place at all. It was disgusting that Fire Nation soldiers (and often drunk or inept ones at that) could get away with bullying unarmed Earth Kingdom citizens with such little provocation.

Disgusting. The word seemed to apply to a lot of what the Fire Nation did. It was disgusting that they stole money from the poor, or imprisoned those who didn't deserve it, or harmed innocents seemingly whenever they could find an excuse to do so. But the worst part—what drove Zuko mad—was that he knew he hadn't seen the full brunt of Fire Nation crimes. He came across the ugly aftermath of his people's actions often enough to recognize that much.

Sometimes it was burnt buildings, or broken limbs, or even charred stretches of ground where fights had taken place.

In one instance, it was infinitely worse.

Zuko knew something was wrong the moment he set foot in the small city of Wenshu, the last place he figured he would explore before he told his crew that the area held no clues as to the Avatar's whereabouts. Uncle was starting to worry that Zuko wasn't getting enough rest, and if they didn't move on soon, the old man would undoubtedly forbid him from going out at night.

Not that Zuko would be heartbroken if that were the case. His outings were painful. Every time he came across new evidence that the Fire Nation was doing something wrong, he wanted to run back to his ship and refuse to believe that what he'd seen had been real. Only a deep, internal compulsion to help where he could kept him from turning his back on the ugly truths he discovered.

Even that compulsion was barely enough to keep him from fleeing when the smell of burnt flesh settled on his tongue the instant he entered Wenshu. As Zuko moved further into the city, a host of other smells became more prominent as well: burnt wood, burnt grass... burnt everything. It was as though half the town had been torched. After several minutes of walking, Zuko grew concerned enough to consider climbing a roof to assess the damage.

Then he stepped out of the alley he'd been creeping through and found himself no longer needing to do so.

The larger buildings of the merchant district stopped all at once, leaving nothing but the shell of what must have been the residential area of the city behind. Most of the homes were now nothing more than blackened framework, and some could not even be considered that. Charred skeletons littered the ground, the moonlight rendering them just visible enough for Zuko to notice how small several were. They weren't the remains of fighters, but of children.

The Fire Nation had complete control of Wenshu, so he'd expected something like he'd seen in the other occupied areas: some burnt buildings, a few displaced and frightened families, and maybe a handful soldiers lingering behind to retain control.

Nothing like the graveyard in front of him.

This wasn't a takeover. It was a massacre.

Zuko swallowed and moved forward, boots crunching on the blackened ground beneath them. He could still feel the warmth in the ashes. Whatever had happened here had happened recently.

All these houses.

All these people.

Zuko exhaled heavily.

He'd been attempting to reconcile himself with the fact that the Fire Nation wasn't perfect, had even concluded that the war wasn't being fought like it should be, but he hadn't thought on those things with any urgency. He'd done his best to help those whose lives were damaged by the Fire Nation, but the notion that his people needed to be stopped outright hadn't occurred to him. He certainly hadn't comprehended how truly awful the Fire Nation could be, how twisted the war had become.

Now, that heart-wrenching reality was laid out in front of him, impossible to ignore or deny. Anyone who could do something so terrible was a monster… his own people were monsters.

He took a deep breath, intending to calm himself, but instead almost choked on the ash-filled air. The smell only furthered his revulsion. It wasn't until he regained his bearings that he realized ash wasn't the only thing he'd tasted– there were plants and herbs, even chemicals… things that reeked of healing.

Some people are still alive.

The Blue Spirit hurried forward.

Finding the series of tents that had been set up for the wounded and displaced didn't take long. Even if the white canvas of the makeshift shelters hadn't stood out against the blackened landscape, the smells and noise would have been indicator enough. So much screaming and crying. Shouting children and pleading parents. Blood and burns and human excrement. Infection, as well– an awful, putrid smell that would have made him gag if he'd had a weaker stomach.

The sight of the camp only made him sicker. Overtaxed nurses and healers and seemingly whoever could help went from tent to tent. A lot of the people didn't appear to be seriously sick or injured, but were huddled outside in tight-knit groups, shaking and scared. They probably didn't have anywhere else to go, and he imagined they were hungry as well. Adequately feeding so many homeless simply wasn't feasible.

The Fire Nation is supposed to conquer territories. Even when they do so harshly, it's justifiable. But this… this is destroying. There isn't anything left to conquer. It's senseless.

Zuko wanted to slap himself for the thought.

He couldn't possibly be blaming this on his people. Everything else he'd seen, yes. But not this. Never this.

The Fire Nation couldn't have-

No way-

But they so very obviously had. It even made sense from a strategic viewpoint. Omashu was the Fire Nation's real goal. Wenshu was nothing more than a stepping stone—a city needed for the supplies in its market or perhaps the housing it could provide for soldiers, but with no significance beyond that. If the people had rebelled, it would've been simpler for the soldiers to eliminate the problem rather than continue dealing with the threat of insurgence. In the bigger picture, burning Wenshu made things easier on the Fire Nation.

That's no excuse.

It really wasn't.

Hands shaking, Zuko crept towards the camp. His feet felt heavy, and every breath he took only reinforced his disgust at his own people. He couldn't fathom how this could have happened. Again and again he told himself that it had been a bad company of men, that orders had gotten mixed up or a fight had escalated-

"Hey, you!"

He jerked his head up to see an Earth Kingdom peasant standing outside the closest tent. The sword he held suggested that he was playing guard duty, despite his black eye and the burn on his neck. Zuko raised his hands in the universal gesture of innocence, but he couldn't keep his impatience out of his posture. He'd hardly have the time or the energy to do a quarter of what needed doing as it was. He didn't want to waste either trying to convince this boy that he wasn't the enemy.

Even though I kind of am.

THAT ISN'T TRUE. I never would have done something like this.

The people you are so proud of would have.

This is an exception.

And the other suffering you've seen?

It can't be indicative of the entire Fire Nation. My father would never stand for that.

The father who scarred and banished you, you mean? Yes, I'm sure he abhors violence-

"What in the hell are you doing, skulking around out here?" the guarded demanded, and Zuko forced himself from the conversation going on inside his head.

He lowered one hand and waved the man, or boy really, towards him.

"I ain't getting closer to you until the mask comes off."

Teeth gritted– he was trying to help dammit! –Zuko darted forward, ducked under a strike from the guard's sword, and pressed his hand to the burn on his neck, simultaneously drawing one of his own blades with his free hand and holding it above the boy's head to keep him from moving. He flooded the burn with his healing fire as quickly as he could, knowing he had to finish before anyone else interfered.

After a moment, the boy recognized what was going on and stopped putting up a fight. Zuko only spent a few more second on the burn, recognizing that it could finish healing on its own. Satisfied that his point had been made, he stepped back and sheathed his sword before looking pointedly at the still-shocked guard. Deliberately, he gestured toward himself and then toward the tents.

"You just… you healed…" Zuko twitched with annoyance. "Right. G- go help… do whatever you just did to me, to them."

Needing no more permission than that, Zuko hurried for the nearest tent. The stench he'd caught before increased tenfold the moment he slipped inside, and not for the first time he bemoaned his sharpened senses. Looking at the blackened faces and burnt bodies and crying families was bad enough, but having to hear and smell and taste the suffering so strongly that he could close his eyes and still make out nearly everything that was going on around him was almost intolerable.

Just tonight, Zuko told himself. Help these people tonight, and you can forget it ever happened.

His desperate mind bought the lie well enough for him to block the worst of his surroundings. Feigning composure, he headed for the gravest looking patient he could see, or at least the gravest who still had a shot at pulling through. Several people were already crowded around the cot, and they all protested as he waved them away, some showing obvious fear. Ignoring them, Zuko rested a bare hand on the injured girl's shoulder. The burn there was enormous, ugly and infected. It would certainly scar, but Zuko knew if he could draw the infection out, she would likely survive.

As he worked, the protests died down until finally the area around the girl's cot fell silent. Energy flowed from his body as he healed, but Zuko continued to focus on the wound, on burning out the infection and infusing as much life as he could into his fire.

"He's a spirit," one of the healers whispered. "A fire spirit, come to set right the wrongs done by his people."

It made him sick that she was more or less right.

How could the Fire Nation do this?

He shook off his disgust and finished getting rid of the last of the infection. A few more minutes, and the burn was mended enough that it would probably heal completely given time.

Unfortunately, helping even the single girl had taken a lot out of him and there were dozens more who required his aid. Healing everyone in the tent obviously wasn't an option. He could… he could heal those who would die without it, though. That would be… well, not easy, but loosely possible. The others, he could fix up with herbs or bandages, but only if whatever treatment they were receiving currently wasn't working. No way was he going to be able to leave everyone anywhere near well. He'd have to settle for doing what he could and hoping it would be enough to keep them alive.

Frustrating as it was, Zuko had no other choice.

The rest of the night dragged on endlessly. After some time, Zuko found a torch and carried it with him so that he could borrow the extra energy from the flames. Some of the patients screamed and thrashed if they were conscious enough to realize Zuko was using fire on them. Some only needed to see his mask before lashing out, but after the first few times this occurred, healing assistants or volunteers would rush over and whisper comforting words, even hold his patients down while Zuko healed them as best he could.

When he had to take a short break from bending, Zuko examined those he'd deemed too 'well' for him to waste energy healing. The healers seemed to know what they were doing, as most of the injuries or illnesses were being treated as well as or better than Zuko could've; however, he occasionally found something that would be fixed more efficiently by a technique he'd picked up from Akio and scribbled instructions on a cheap slate one of the assistants had scrounged up for him.

Then it was back to work. Several times, he stooped to examine a person only to find that they were too late to help. Once, a woman he was working over died in the middle of the process. And more often than not, Zuko had to hold back vomit as he ran his fingers over blackened skin or festering burns, as he struggled to heal long gashes left over from where limbs had been amputated and flaps of extra skin hastily slapped over the exposed muscle.

The sick, though—the sick were the worst, simply because there was so little he could do for them. He'd known he wasn't at all proficient at dealing with illness, but he hadn't understood what that might mean until he was faced with dozens of gaunt faces who needed more help than he could give. He was unable to stop the coughing of the ones who'd breathed in too much smoke, could do absolutely nothing for those suffering from rampant lack of nutrition, and while he was able to infuse a small amount of extra energy into the people fighting disease, he wasn't sure how much of a difference doing so actually made.

He hated it. Hated that his country was to blame for this and hated that he could do practically nothing to set it right.

By the time the first light of dawn appeared on the horizon, Zuko could hardly walk. He'd long since stopped trying to use his bending– tired as he was, and with the sun nowhere in sight, he hadn't even been able to make use of outside sources of flame –but there'd been plenty of help needed otherwise. Help that was still needed, but that he was too exhausted to provide. Uncle would be worrying in any case; he really did need to get back to his ship.

Zuko finished bandaging a small boy's leg, then stumbled upright. He took a quick look around, eyes flitting over the healers and volunteers, before deciding that they would take care of things better than he could in his exhausted state. There was nothing more he could do.

Sneaking out of the tent undetected was relatively easy, and getting the rest of the way out of the small encampment just as simple.

No one noticed his absence until he was already gone.

…

That next evening, Zuko debated whether he should return to the encampment, but there really wasn't a debate to be had. He argued briefly with Uncle, lying and saying he had a lead, that he just needed one more evening and then the crew could continue moving and he'd start getting more sleep. Iroh relented eventually, and not an hour later Zuko snuck out of his ship.

When cheers and hugs and smiles greeted his arrival, Zuko found he couldn't regret his actions. Even though another two people died that evening and he felt disgusting and tired and nearly dead himself afterwards, he was certain those two nights in Wenshu were the most meaningful of his life.

…

Zuko stared out at the ocean as his ship traveled northward. He'd given the order to set sail the morning before, had said that he hadn't found anything on the Avatar anywhere near Omashu and they would do best to continue in the direction the boy and his friends seemed to be heading.

Even to himself, his voice had sounded hollow when he gave the command. He felt hollow. Now that his adrenaline was gone and he'd scrounged up some small amount of rest after the past two nights, everything he'd seen and done was beginning to sink in.

Zuko wasn't sure what he was supposed to think about what'd happened, didn't know what he did think, but he knew that he felt awful. Not because of what he'd done, but because of everything he hadn't been able to do. The woman who'd died when he was working on her that first evening haunted him, as did the two peasants who'd passed away before he could help them the night before. The suffering he'd witnessed stuck with him just as potently.

While he'd helped some small amount, he couldn't forget the conditions in the camp when he'd left it behind. The people were happier, had smiled and thanked him when he passed, but things were by no means okay. Those citizens were still homeless, and the tents were still filthy and reeked of death. There wasn't enough food or clean water. And no effort on his part could bring their homes back or return the friends and family members who'd been killed before he'd arrived.

Zuko had always prided the Fire Nation on its supposedly stringent sense of honor, but there was nothing honorable about what they had done in Wenshu—what he suspected they were doing throughout the Earth Kingdom.

The thought grated at him. He loved his people. Thinking of them as dishonorable felt like the worst kind of betrayal, but ignoring everything he'd seen would be betraying the people he'd spent so much time helping.

Who was more important? Who should be more important? Zuko knew he'd never been able to see things from the perspective his father wished him to. He'd always been too weak, too caring, too compassionate. Was that why he was having such a hard time stomaching the Fire Nation's actions now? Because of his own personal faults, and not due to any defects of his people?

There was no frame of reference, nothing to tell him which way of thinking was right. He didn't know how to prove that what he was seeing was cruel and disgusting when everything he'd learned up until that point said it was honorable and necessary. His heart told him the Fire Nation was in the wrong, but he couldn't trust his heart; he remembered too clearly what'd happened the last time he'd let it dictate his actions.

But… but that last time, in the war room, it had been his father who disagreed with him, who'd punished him for so-called insubordination. And if his father was aware of everything that was going on in the Earth Kingdom and allowed it, why should Zuko trust his judgment on calling for the Agni Kai? What if his father was wrong?

No. That couldn't be right. Zuko was weak and traitorous. His father had sent him away to fix him, and instead he had grown worse. His problems stemmed from the fact that he was a bad son, that he wasn't good enough to be a prince of the Fire Nation. Not from of any fault of his people's.

But how could the suffering he'd seen be right? There wasn't any way he could be mistaken about something so gut-wrenchingly tangible. Hell, even if he did only see a problem with it because of his own shortcomings, did he really want to change? Did he want to become the kind of person who accepted cruelty without blinking? Who acted dishonorably so blithely?

Zuko gritted his teeth. It was the Avatar's fault. If the stupid monk hadn't thrown him from his ship, he wouldn't have come back different. His concentration wouldn't have been affected by the fear that his father wouldn't accept his odd bending. His senses wouldn't have improved, so he wouldn't have heard that baby crying and he wouldn't have had reason to look at the situation in Osaka more closely. And if his fire hadn't turned different, he would have ignored what was happening anyway; without his healing bending or lessons with Akio, he never would've fallen into a mindset where helping people was an obligation more than a conscious decision.

Now he couldn't even believe in his own nation anymore, couldn't believe in his father, couldn't-

"Prince Zuko? Are you okay?"

Zuko jumped, having been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't heard his uncle's footsteps. He took a moment to regain his bearings before he could answer, voice sharper than usual to make up for his embarrassing lack of awareness. "I'm fine, Uncle."

Iroh ignored the dismissal, approaching him almost tentatively. Zuko closed his eyes and leaned against the railing of the ship, listening as Uncle came to a stop beside him.

"You have been getting very little sleep lately."

A shrug. "I'll catch up now that we're traveling consistently again."

They were silent for some time.

Then: "…is something the matter?"

Zuko opened his eyes and peered at Uncle. Everything was the matter. His world was falling apart and there was nothing he could do about it.

He couldn't say that. Didn't know if the older man would understand. Instead, he whispered, "In Osaka, I helped a homeless Earth Kingdom family… A family who was only homeless because Fire Nation soldiers burnt down their home." He stepped away from the ship's railing and turned so that he was facing Uncle completely. "They weren't the only ones."

"Zuko…"

"Don't patronize me," he snapped, recognizing the careful undertones of Iroh's voice– like his uncle thought he was a baby polar dog who needed coddling. "I don't want you to preach. I don't want to hear what you think of this, and I don't want any comforting words. I just… I need you to answer my questions."

"What would those be, my nephew?" asked Uncle, his expression guarded.

"Is it like that everywhere?" Zuko demanded. He narrowed his eyes. "Is this entire war being fought like that?" A hesitation, and then, more softly, desperately, "Does my father know?"

Iroh didn't say anything for a very long time. That was all the confirmation Zuko needed. The, "I'm sorry," that followed was unnecessary.

Zuko nodded, then turned back to look out at the ocean. Even if he was as pathetically misled as his father seemed to think, he knew in that instant that ignorance was preferable to wanting to fight for the sick, twisted thing the Fire Nation had become.

He also knew with a gut-wrenching certainty that he was by no means ready to fight against them either.

Then I'll simply have to stay out of it.

He almost snorted at the thought.

Prince of the Fire Nation, stay out of the war?

It would be impossible.

Unless, he thought, good eye widening as something crazy and stupid occurred to him, I can find a way to not be the Prince of the Fire Nation.

His plan was ridiculous. He couldn't, shouldn't…

But the idea had taken root in his mind, and Zuko knew deep down that it was already too late to sway himself from that course of action. It was perfect. He'd still be able to help people, but could distance himself from everything else. Maybe it would be difficult, and maybe he would have to leave his ship and his crew… and Uncle; it was also the best option he had, the only thing he could think of that would let him continue helping those who needed it without diving headfirst into a war he no longer wanted anything to do with.

I'd also have to give up chasing the Avatar, he thought with an odd kind of fascination. Distracted as he'd been the past few weeks, his life had revolved around the Avatar for three years. It was odd to think he'd finally found him only to abandon his goal of capturing the kid after two tries, but Zuko knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he brought the boy back to the Fire Nation. Not when he doubted he'd receive a warm welcome, and certainly not when he didn't know if he even wanted one.

And, he supposed, not when I almost hope the Avatar succeeds in his quest to end the war.

"Nephew-"

"I'm fine, Uncle," said Zuko. He made to leave, but his thoughts drifted back to his plan and everything it entailed. Forcing a smile, he reached forward and wrapped his arms around his uncle's waist. He tried to say how grateful he was for everything, but his throat was clogged and the words refused to come out.

He pulled back and met Uncle's eyes and hoped he got his point across that way.

"Oh, Zuko," whispered Uncle. "You aren't fine at all, are you?"

"Really," insisted Zuko, even though he was an awful liar and he knew it. "I'm… great."

…

Akio knew there was something wrong when he walked into the sick bay and found it ransacked. He frowned deeply, eyes scanning the spaces on his shelf where healing scrolls were supposed to be, the obvious gaps amidst his collection of powders and tonics. His first thought was that a stowaway had done it. Zuko's ship had landed at a seedy port a short ways north of Omashu just the day before, and it wasn't too big a stretch to say someone had found their way aboard, but…

Who in their right mind would want to steal his healing junk? He considered briefly that another member of the crew might have done so, but again: who would care enough to bother taking anything?

There was only one person he could think of, but surely he wouldn't-

Unless…

A note left on the work table confirmed his suspicions.

Needed the supplies. Money to replace them is in envelope. It was an honor to know you.

It wasn't signed, but the handwriting was anally neat and he didn't know another person on the ship who'd bother sticking the word 'honor' in a three sentence message.

For a long while, Akio stared at Zuko's writing and tried to guess what it meant.

Then something occurred to him, and he took off for Iroh's quarters. It was disrespectful to the highest degree to start banging on the old general's door like he did, but Akio was too worried to care. He was vaguely aware of being worried for the kid and more than a little shocked that Zuko might be gone, but his prevailing thoughts were focused on what the prince's disappearance was going to do to Iroh.

After a moment, the Dragon of the West opened the door, lips pressed into a grim line.

"General," he panted. "Zuko-"

"Ah." Iroh closed his eyes and exhaled. "He is gone. I was expecting this."

"What?" blurted Akio. He blinked. That wasn't what he'd had in mind when he predicted Iroh's reaction to the news. He remembered all too clearly the look on the old man's face when he thought Zuko had drowned in the South Pole: worry bordering on panic. Now he merely looked accepting. "General, Zuko left."

"I am not surprised. Just the other day, we had a conversation that led me to believe this might happen soon."

"But…" Akio shook his head. "The crew have been decent. I've been talking Zuko up, and people are coming around. Hell, he's even got a chance at catching the Avatar. Why leave now? Why not before, when everyone hated him and no one had seen the Avatar in a hundred years?"

Iroh sighed.

"He did not leave because of anything to do with you or the Avatar. He left because he discovered things that moved him deeply– so deeply that he has begun to undergo a deep change of conscience. One that he cannot complete while on this ship."

Deep change of conscience?

"What are you talking about?"

A frown. "I am afraid I cannot tell you at the moment. Perhaps… later. But if you will, please do an old man a favor and keep this between us. When the crew discovers my nephew's absence, allow them to speculate. Do not say he left willingly. It will make things more difficult for Zuko."

"I won't say anything," said Akio, without even thinking about it. Both because of his respect for Iroh and some new, ridiculous loyalty towards his prince. "But… he left." He couldn't stop dwelling on that fact. "Aren't you worried about him?"

"Zuko can take care of himself," said Iroh. "I know this. I also know that what he is doing is necessary." Then, with concern evident in his eyes, "But yes. I am worried. While I hope this might be good for him, I also fear that his life will be difficult from this point forward. Prince Zuko has always had an unfortunate habit of taking on more than he is able to easily handle."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Akio tried, even though he had no idea what Zuko was getting himself into in the first place.

"I hope so." Iroh smiled sadly. "Agni, do I hope so."

The next day, it was reported that there had been a small explosion at one of the warehouses in a Fire Nation controlled village nearby. Everything in the place had somehow been set off, and everything but the walls of the building had burnt to ash—everything except a set of armor designed specifically for Fire Nation royalty. The body, they said, had been burnt too thoroughly to recover.

Akio watched as Iroh cried at the news, just as everyone would have expected. The rest of the crew remained silent with shock. Some eyed him, wanting to see how he reacted to the death of his pupil.

He barely acknowledged them; he was too busy wondering what in the hell the kid was trying to pull by faking his own death.

…

Zuko frowned as he slipped away from the village where he'd left his armor. Much as he'd hated to do so, he hadn't had any choice but to fake his death. Enough people knew of his healing abilities that it wouldn't have taken long for someone to identify the Blue Spirit, and if word got back to the Fire Nation that the banished prince spent his free time helping Earth Kingdom peasants, his father would send every soldier at his disposal to haul him back to the Fire Nation- where he would be imprisoned and probably tortured.

I should be tortured, he thought as he jogged. I deserve it for even thinking about doing something like this, let alone actually trying to pull it off.

The thought held no conviction. As Zuko distanced himself from the ship that had been a prison for him the last three years– and a home, he admitted reluctantly – he felt a freedom that he hadn't in a long time. He was no longer a failure, nor was he bound by a mission he now expected had been created specifically to be impossible.

He could start over, and oh was that a magnificent feeling.

…