A/N: Hey, guys... Well, I know that it's been forever (I think about a year since I last updated), but after thinking about it for awhile, I've decided to come back. I know that its awful, I literally disappeared without a trace and left all of the readers totally hanging (you guys are awesome, seriously), so I will give you an explanation. I have had... a lot of personal tragedy this past year. I don't want to go into many details, but you all deserve to know that I stopped posting after someone very close to me overdosed on drugs and died. Lots of things happened after that.. things I would prefer not to go in to, but nothing that excuses me from at least posting an explanation to y'all. Y'all deserved much better than I gave, and I understand that the way that I behaved, in disappearing, was singularly awful to everyone who wanted to see this story finished. I'm truly and deeply sorry for that.

But, all that said, I can't keep away from this story. My little brother bought the Avatar 3rd Season which sparked all of the old fanfiction fever back into me, and I remembered this story, sitting here, incomplete. After re-reading Release and what I had so far of Redemption, it struck me as to how intensely personal this story would become were I to take it up again. So, here I am. I ask for y'all's forgiveness, knowing that I don't deserve it, with the hopes that, at the very least, some of you who liked this story and supported me through it might want to come back and see how it ends. I've got a lot left to write: fanfiction is awesome, you guys who read my story were awesome, and if even one person wants to hear the story to the end, it will get completed.

Once again, I'm deeply and truly sorry to all of you. A special thanks goes out to my good friend, TwilightRose2, who helped me make this comeback. I understand she's also recently returned to the Avatar fanfiction, too; she's a helluva writer, and I highly recommend her stories to anyone looking for a good bit of Tokka fluff.

Recap: I want to provide one of these, so all y'all who want to come back to this story, but don't want to go through and re-read everything will know what's going on. In Release, the Gaang managed to spring Suki from a Fire Nation Prison run by latent Fire Nation loyalists. This army, led by the conniving General Xu, ultimately failed in a plot to capture Sokka and use him to get to the Avatar thanks to the quick action of Toph, who sprang both him and Suki free and managed to defeat the troop sent after them. However, during the course of the battle, Sokka was greivously wounded, and nearly died. Upon recovery, however, Suki, realizing the powerful connection between Sokka and Toph, decided to return to Kyoshi Island, leaving Toph to finally spark a relationship with him that she had always wanted. It was also revealed that General Xu was actually and Earthbender.

Redemption began with the introduction of Jiro the Mouse, a young pickpocket who was admitted into the underground criminal organization within the Fire Nation known as the Family. Sokka and Toph, about a year or so after the events of Release, have been helping the fledgling Fire Nation government put down the Family and working to elect Councilman Tsung, a very respected Councilman and good man, to the position of Fire Lord, with the hopes that this will spring the Nation out of the recession it's in. Aang and Katara have been very busy defending the Earth Kingdom city of Dai-Tso from an invasion of General Xu's forces that could spark a whole new war. Singe was introduced, a grinning sociopathic assassin who works for General Xu, and is revealed to be both aiding and commanding the Family (led by the fat, repugnant Todhe) on Xu's behalf. Zuko, since the war, had refused the Fire Lord crown, and instead, opened a teashop named after his late Uncle Iroh, which had been blossoming despite the bad times in the Fire Nation. He was also in a relationship with a girl named Xiang, the daughter of a prevalent Councilman. However, after a play by Singe to distract Sokka and Toph and the Fire Nation Guard, some assassins took Xiang. Jiro the Mouse, who didn't understand precisely what they were doing, was ordered by his Captain, Wazha, to kill her after he balked from the assassination. She died under his knife, and that is where this chapter begins.

Well, guys, there it is, such as it is. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did reading it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Zuko, the Former Prince:

The morning sun peeks timidly through the branches of the trees, spattering little flecks of light onto the cobblestone pavement as I walk. I take in the morning air, feeling the bracing cold deep in the center of my lungs. It slips into my veins, chilling my face and sending that icy form of liveliness through my chest. I slip my hands into my pockets; it's cold out for a morning in the beginning of fall.

Still, there's something about a crisp morning that brings out the beauty of the city. The diminished heat from the sun seems to catch the taller buildings in a particularly poignant light, haloing them in an intense gilded sheen that emphasizes their traditional grandeur. I let a small smile slip to my mouth.

A large gaggle of people stands herded around a corner, clogging the intersection with a mass of thick woolen cloth and clouded breath. My smile fades away into perplexity as I see the grimness of the expressions etched into their faces, worn and bittered in protest of the golden morning. The hum of voices is reserved and solemn, catching in the throats of the speakers as they each attempt to whisper more quietly than the rest of the crowd. I brush through the bodies, feeling their heat on my face as I edge through to discover what's going on. Something nasty. A worm of fear, niggling at first, then growing in strength, sits deep into my stomach for reasons I can't quite identify.

Then, suddenly the sea of people breaks, and I am greeted immediately by the stoic, worn face of Sokka. He seems much older than he is, and particularly tired: the weight of this incident has reached through his face, dropping weight upon him. Toph stands nearby, looking no better. Even her normally emotionless expression seems exhausted and dogged; the stalwart self-confidence and determined stubbornness has been dragged away.

Sokka's tanned face seems to pale as his eyes meet mine. His jaw drops slightly, as though he wants to say something, but nothing seems to come out. His brows furrow, knotting the skin between them into tight, thick wrinkles as he walks to meet me. He closes his mouth, giving up on speaking before grasping my shoulder. Fear seems to trickle from the warm, affectionate hand, feeding the knot that has already established itself within my stomach. My eyes firmly appraise his, watching the cobalt blue gaze flick to the familiar puckered flesh of my scar before he releases me, and steps out of the way.

I see the crimson first: thin pools of red dribble down the dull gray curb, leaking into the crevices between stones. I follow the telltale stream to a deeply shadowed alleyway, jammed between two shops like a knife plunged into the ground. The light of the morning sun doesn't manage to wriggle into the tiny alley, which remains defiantly dark. I ease forward, carefully, slowly, each step measured by anxiety and trepidation until I finally manage to coax myself into the blackness.

The light peeks in enough that I am able to make out the trail of red and follow it to the source. Then, I see her crumpled body. I see the closed eyes, the deathly blue hue of her skin, the outstretched hand, the huddled guards peering at the body and scrawling notes onto parchment with bits of charcoal. The fear dissipates suddenly, wrenching itself from me. I brace myself, waiting to feel... anything, something akin to what I felt at my Uncle's passing, or at my mother's disappearance.

But... there's nothing.

The anxiety leaves nothing behind in its wake, just a cold emptiness that rips the energy right out of me. I feel my legs become limp and I lean forcefully against the stone wall. I know that I should feel at the moment, that I'm missing something. My life, my normalcy, the stable love that I have desired through years of hell sits before me, a tattered shell of what she was, yet I can't summon anything. She was beautiful, sweet, kind, loving, and she genuinely cared about each and everyone she met: an incredible and rare girl that I was completely and irrevocably in love with, but there's nothing.

I don't feel the love, I don't feel despondency, sadness, anger, anything.

I realize that I'm walking back to my apartment. The crowd is behind me, the scene is behind me. I don't know what, if anything, I said to Sokka and Toph. The emptiness sits within me. What can I do?

Jiro the Mouse:

The wooden chair feels hard and uncomfortable against my back as I lean into it, allowing it to cradle me. An odd sense of discomfort sits deep in the pit of my gut, and no matter how I adjust myself, it stagnates and refuses to dissipate. I know what it is, I understand the guilt that I feel.

She begged me not to do it, with her eyes. No sounds came out of her, even as her life fled, but her piercing gaze may as well been screaming my name, pleading with me to stop. But I couldn't. I know that. It's obvious. The second they grabbed her, she was dead: it made no difference who was holding the knife. If I hadn't done it, they would have killed me too! And the Fire Nation Guard would have found two bodies strewn over the gutter.

So why do I still have to feel so guilty? Damn it! I didn't ask for this to happen! I didn't mean for it to go like this! I was forced! I had no choice! I've never had a choice, since the day I was born, having to jump nine hurdles for everybody else's three. Scrounging for food, scraping a living, barely able to keep my scrawny body alive. I've always done what I had to. This is just like every other time: every pocket I picked, every coin I stole.

But something deep within me refuses to believe it. I huddle over, clutching my stomach, screwing my eyes firmly shut and blocking out as many of my senses as I can to try and force it out of me. It eats me from the inside, I can feel it's little teeth biting into my organs, squeezing tears from the corners of my eyes. I am a murderer. This cold fact, shrewd and unforgiving, can't be rationalized away. I did what I did, and that poor girl lies dead because of it. There's no way around it, and there's no going back. I can't pull the knife out of her and bring her back to life. I have to accept it and move on.

The door in the corner of the empty room suddenly creeps and shudders, cracking open and exposing a thin sliver of light that cascades around me. My head snaps up as I peer forwards, waiting to see the newcomer; for some reason, a sense of foreboding sparks within me, and my quick hands ease my knife from its sheath.

A wiry man, almost as thin as me, eases through the door. The outside light catches against his spectacles, causing them to flash angrily into my eyes as he walks towards me. His matted hair shadows his face darkly, starkly emphasizing the clash between his conniving eyes and the gleeful smile painted on his face. My gaze darts back and forth between his disturbing expression and the bandoleer slung over his shoulder, filled with odd, vicious-looking throwing knives. My gut, which has never let me down before, marks this man as dangerous, and I tighten my grip around my puny little blade.

"I've heard about you, Jiro," he says happily, easing forward and planting a warm hand on my shoulder, "Wazha says you have about the quickest hands he's ever seen, and that you're capable of... doing what you have to. I like hearing things like that."

I say nothing, staring downwards at the floor, away from him. There's something so distinctly unsettling about this man that I can't bring myself to look him in the eye.

"Anyways," he says playfully, shaking me lightly, "You'll be pleased to know that we've got a job opening, in upper management. You meet the criteria we're looking for! So, I think a nice promotion is in order. We want to move you, immediately, like today, down to our main locale, outside the city!"

He releases me and paces to the edge of the room, peering out of the grime-covered window at the street. His footsteps are light and silent, and it suddenly strikes me as to who this mysterious man is.

"You're.... you're Singe," I say, lamely. He snaps his head back to look at me, the grin seeming to stretch the skin of his cheeks even further backwards.

"Oo, perceptive too! I knew that you would suit our needs just perfectly," he grins.

I study his face, looking for signs of sarcasm, but his darkly childish appearance doesn't give away anything. I lean back against the wooden chair, struggling to make myself appear as threatening and tough as possible as he walks back towards me.

"Kid, I think you're going to fit right in. We're the kind of organization that values skills like yours! You'll go far, under my wing!"

'Under my wing...'

This is one of the most notorious killers in the Fire Nation. Singe, the grinning madman, and the Family's personal assassin. Under his wing.

There's no going back

"What do I have to do?" I ask.

Toph Bei Fong:

Neither of us have spoken a word since we left the Council Chamber. The silence sits heavily in the air amidst us, driving and cold, yet neither of us dare to break it. Three members of the Council withdrew their support for Councilman Tsung. Three! And on the day that poor Councilman Farzu lost his daughter. I have to admit, I was proud when Farzu refused to give up his support

I've known pain. I've known it in myself and in others, but the kind of pain I felt out of Zuko today both confused and terrified me. I couldn't help but focus on his heartbeat as he saw her, and... I don't know what I expected. But I sure didn't expect this. It just suddenly faded away: once the anxiety dissipated there was absolutely nothing left. It felt as though his soul was sucked out of him, and when the crinkle of cloth on brick told me that he had fallen against the wall, I had the sudden, awful feeling of death. The vibrations that emanated from him may have told me he was alive, but his heartbeat told me otherwise. I... I'm scared. Despite myself, I'm scared. I'm terrified that this has broken Zuko. Despite all the turmoil that he's gone through, all the people he's lost and the tragedies he's witnessed... I think this may have been enough to do him in.

And that's still not all. Councilman Farzu never felt older to me than he did today, addressing the Council with regards to his personal tragedy. I felt the droplets of his tears spatter against the warm, embracing earth, and, despite myself, I felt it mirrored in my own eyes. Farzu's wife died a while ago, and Xiang was his only daughter. Now all that's left of that broken family are him and his infant son, so damaged by one careless act of violence. He all but fell apart, and those greedy bastards in the Council saw it, and three had the gall to withdraw their support from him and Tsung's cause! Bastards! If I never meet another politician, I swear to the spirits, it will be too damn soon!

A huge blow, for everyone involved. For Zuko, for Tsung, for me, and Sokka, and the Fire Nation. And what's scariest of all is that all signs point to a Family assassination. They knew where to hit us at just the right point to break our world apart.

You know it has to be something big when it gets me to start thinking like this.

And with these fatalistic thoughts streaming through my head, I realize that Sokka and I are passing by the Ambassadors' room, with my parents looking at us. My dad has drawn himself up to his full height, glaring down upon us with an air of pompousness and elitism so pronounced that there are traces of it in the ground. His gaze follows us pointedly as we continue to walk, and I can almost feel the self confidence dribble from Sokka.

But, just as I think the worst, Sokka stops, and turns. He stands up straight, the muscles clenching in his back as he draws himself up to his full height. His head turns, and I can feel the electricity in the room as he locks eyes with my father. No tremors come through the earth after this point, and I realize with shock that Sokka is neither blinking nor breathing. The only rhythm that alerts me to the presences in the room are the palpating hearts of my father and Sokka as they stare each other down.

Pride, mixed with the warm tenderness of love flutters in my chest as Sokka refuses to be cowed. His gritted teeth and tightened, clenched muscles reveal no weakness, no chink within his armor to be exploited, and, eventually, my father returns to his room and retires without a word.

I allow my fingers to slip between his and squeeze reassuringly as we enter our room. I feel a warm, confident smile seep across his handsome features as we walk into the room, spreading across his shoulders as he collapses, exhausted, on the couch. I let his hand fall from mine as he looks up at me, the defeated pace of his heart belaying the expression on his face.

"We took a helluva hit today, didn't we, Toph?" he says. There's no need to ask which "we" he means; I know that he's including just about every person in the Fire Nation that wants the country to pull out of the depression its in.

"Yeah," I admit lamely, unable to find the words for anything else. "I'm worried about Zuko. And Tsung. And Farzu. And... everything."

He places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, providing me not only with comfort, but also a much better look at his facial features, saying, "It's going to be ok, Toph. I won't lie, this is awful, and I know it seems very daunting, but we'll recover. Zuko will recover. We always do."

I open my mouth to protest, but he silences me (which is typically a very dangerous thing to do) with a pair of fingers against my lips. I resist the instinct to bite them as he says, "Toph, you, me, Katara, Zuko and Aang managed to nearly single-handedly dethrone the most powerful empire in the history of the world. If you asked anyone, the most optimistic of people, ten years ago if a 12-year-old Avatar and four of his friends would be able to accomplish something like that, they would all have laughed at you. We're going to win. We're going to because we have to, because that's what we do. Like you said, we bust heads and cause miracles. And this time, it's going to be a miracle for Xiang, for Zuko, for Tsung, Farzu, and anyone else that was hit hard today."

I don't know what to say, can't think of anything as a rush of optimism and hope seeps up through my chest. A hard, knotted lump forms in my throat, and I sit and lean against him, resting my head against his shoulder as he wraps an arm around me. His scent fills my nose as I lift my feet off the floor and lose half of my awareness, fully allowing myself to be encompassed by Sokka.

He's right, he's totally, completely right, damn it (which frankly, surprises me a little bit)! We'll push forward, because that's what we do! I'm the toughest earthbender in the world, and this stupid Family and the horrible things that they do aren't going to bend or break me!

His warmth embraces me, and we don't speak for a moment. I can't help but feel a stab of pride within me at him, firm and strong within my stomach. He's a total pessimist, always seeing the bad, but he can still find the inspiration that he needs to keep going. I snuggle deeper into him, snaking my arms around his waist and squeezing him tightly.

Eventually, he releases me, standing up and pacing over to the window. I recline against the couch, letting my feet fall against the floor and feeling once again the strong, reassuring rhythm of his heart. I have to admit, I feel better. I feel the drive again. But there is one thing we still need to do.

"When do you want to go and visit him?" I ask, knowing that I don't have to clarify who 'he' is, "I was thinking today. This hit him pretty hard."

I feel more than hear the sigh whisper from his lips as he leans against the wall. Idly, I blow a lock of hair from my forehead as he speaks again.

"Yeah, today is good. Actually, right now is good," he says, "Now he needs us more than ever. Poor guy... I can only imagine what he's feeling right now."

Boy does he have that right.

Zuko, the Former Prince:

I sit, sprawled out against the couch, feeling the fibers of the cushion pressing lightly into my skin. I've been staring at the plaster of the ceiling for hours, making shapes in my head out of the spackle, hoping that they might spark something within me. Nothing has happened.

I know that it's terrible, that I should be feeling awful remorse and sadness at her death, like I did when my mother disappeared, and when Uncle died, but there's nothing. I can't spark it within me. Am I broken? Has this robbed me of my humanity? These questions don't have answers.

The sun finally crests through the window, sending a harsh ray of light into the corner of my eye. I don't move, waiting for a tear to be jerked out by the sudden ray, letting it happen, wondering if it will trigger something. The saltwater accumulates, but nothing else happens, and I turn away, out of the light.

The dull red of the couch back greets me. My eyes follow the grooves in between the coarse fibers, tracing a path like a maze until it fades out of view. I don't know how long I do this for, but, eventually, I lift myself up, leaning forward and cradling my head in my hands. Nothing.

A sudden rap at the door jerks me out of my head. I turn towards the noise, staring at the dull wood of my door, but I make no move to answer it. Instead, I allow myself to ease back into the soft cushion of the couch, leaning back and allowing my imagination to make shapes out of the bumps and grooves of plaster on my ceiling.

The rap returns, louder this time, yet still I do nothing. To be honest, I don't know why. It's almost like I don't have the energy, as if there's nothing that could make me get up at the moment and answer the door. So I don't.

Another rap, followed by a familiar voice. Raspy, a bit whiney. Sokka's.

"Zuko, hey, it's us, me and Toph," he says, "C'mon, open up. We're here for you, buddy."

I don't say or do anything, and another voice comes through the door. Girlish, yet tough and confident. Toph's.

"Zuko, c'mon, I know you're in there. I can feel you on your couch," she says. A smirk comes to my face as I realize that its true, yet I don't care, not in the slightest. "Please. We just want to make sure you're ok."

Ok? What does that even mean? Am I ok? Is it ok not to feel anything when someone you love dies? Ok... what a stupid thing to say. And why would they even come here? To try to 'cheer me up'? As if they could make any difference, or if I'd even want their help? I still remember what they did in my teashop. I still remember them asking me to take that damned crown again. Is that what they're here for? It would make sense. Coming over here, trying to use Xiang's death to inspire me to take the crown.

Well to hell with them! To hell with this stupid country, to hell with the stupid Fire Lord Crown! A spark of anger ignites, like kindling, deep in my chest. I hold my breath, letting the feeling seep within me, fanning the spark until it becomes flame: palpable, real, tangible. It throws new life into my limbs, making my hands shake with rage as I clench them into fists, if only to control them. Damn them! Damn them for coming here! They don't know what I'm going through, and I sure as hell am not going to let them use me for whatever they want!

"Alright, Zuko," Sokka says. It takes considerable effort not to run to the door, swing it open, and punch him in the face, but I manage not to. "I'm not going to force you. I understand. But please, know that me and Toph are always here for you."

Pah! Only insofar as I can help them bring "order" back to the Fire Nation! I relish their footsteps as they walk away. They were smart to leave. Very smart. More than they know.

I stand up, suddenly awash with fresh energy. But, it's not like my anger used to be: passionate, out of control, like a raging wildfire. This time, its measured, a campfire, giving me energy and new life. I realize that my fists are still clenched, and peer down at them. A tight paleness spreads around my knuckles, where the pressure has stopped the flow of blood. I release them, flexing the digits and letting the rage fully seep into them.

It's not Toph and Sokka. They're not at fault here, as questionable as their motives may be. It's the Family. Oh, its incredibly obvious that this was a Family killing, to anyone with half a brain. Xiang, the daughter of a Councilman gunning for their demise, is found stabbed to death in a back alley.

She deserved so much more! A girl that wonderful deserved everything that life could give her! But no, it's been stripped away, by a group of thugs who care more about a quick gold coin than a human life. And nobody's going to do anything. No proof, no evidence, but there's no one in the entire Fire Nation who doesn't know that they're responsible.

My eyes flick almost instinctively to the sword case, lying unassumingly upon the ground. My footsteps sound hurried and spastic as I walk over to it, flicking open the latch and all but throwing the lid open. The twin swords sit against the red velvet, sheathed and connected, lying dormant for years until I had need of them again. I have need now.

I pick up the weapons, feeling their familiar weight in my hands, staring down at the creased brown leather sheath, the gilded pommels, the intricately connected hilts. I slide the sheath off of the steel, tossing it idly to the ground as I take in their beauty. The sunlight glitters off of the blades as I disconnect them, exposing the terrifying beauty that these swords hold. Dust seems to shake off of my muscles as I flex and trace them in familiar patterns, lazily tracing the steel through the air. Two halves of the same whole, two pieces of the same puzzle. Always connected, regardless of whether they're apart.

I bring the left sword into a low arc, watching the blur of steel draw a line into the air. Of it's own accord, the right follows, using the momentum of the swing to lick out as I twist and bend around it. I let the blades whistle through the air, following the familiar patterns as the area around me becomes filled with emotion and life: singing metal, the dangerous glitter of carefully honed edges, the terrified whoosh of fleeing wind. My hair blows back as a grin alights my lips. I haven't lost anything with time! And now, now that I need them...

A sudden dull thump followed by a jarring loss of momentum in my right arm jerks me back to reality. I look back towards the right sword, and see it jammed halfway through my ornate wooden bookcase. A shelf has split in half, and books fall from the side, bleeding away and crashing loudly to the floor. The rage ignites within me again, sending liquid fire through my veins and cramming my muscles full of energy. I scream as I thrust with my free sword, jamming it deeply into the terrible wound that the stuck one has created and twisting it viciously. With a bout of strength that surprises me, my left leg explodes forward into a furious side kick, slamming in between the planted blades and creating more pressure than the ruined bookcase can handle. The wood creaks and groans as the split flowers instantaneously, ripping the polished and sanded wood in half. Shelves and books clatter messily to the ground, pooling in a wrecked mess of paper and wood. Dust rises from the floor, stinging my eyes and lungs, and I wave it away with a quick flash of my right sword.

As I stare at the pile of destruction in front of me, a grim sense of satisfaction begins to replace the anger that had so violently taken me over. I'm coming for them. The Family. I am going to wipe those bastards from the face of the earth. Every last one of them. They're a cancer, a plague, and nobody, not Sokka, not Toph, not the new government is doing anything about it. So I'm going to take care of it.

I pick up the leather sheath, hooking the swords together and relishing the steely melody of the blades sliding home as the sunlight fades. Tonight. Everyone knows where they are, everyone knows where their base of operations is. Their arrogance will cost them their lives.

I set the sheathed swords down on the table, and walk back over to the sword case, which has miraculously survived the carnage of the bookcase's death. Carefully, I pull back the velvet covering that once cradled the swords, peeling it away until the latch to the trapdoor underneath is exposed. I flick it up, smiling at the faint click that rewards me, and pry the trapdoor open.

A grinning face, dark blue and distinctly demonic greets me.

A/N: Well, there it is, a long, long overdue chapter. Yes, the grinning face underneath the trap door is supposed to be the Blue Spirit mask; I wasn't sure if I explained that well enough, but that's what it is, haha. If you want me to continue the story, or if you want to yell at me for being gone so long, just shoot me a review. Thanks a lot for reading.

Superbleh11

P.S., my new AIM is Superbleh11, for anyone that wants to hit me up for whatever reason.