Author's note: I really have no excuse as to why it took me so long to put up this chapter! I sincerely apologize and I sincerely appreciate those of you who have stuck with me. Zuko's part is a little longer than Katara's here, so keep that in mind. And, as always, please comment and review and like and all that jazz! Your comments and fanart give me life :D I don't think I'll be able to reply to the comments most recently left because I actually don't know what I already responded to, so I apologize for that! Leave a new comment and I will definitely reply!

Disclaimer: I don't own A:tLA or its characters, just my own!

"Toph!" Zuko roared, making half the mess hall turn to look at him. He only had eyes for the girl in blue sitting in the corner of the room. She rolled her eyes but didn't fight him, opting instead to follow him out into the hallway before things got violent. As soon as they were out of earshot of the other servants, Zuko turned on her.

"I thought you said she wouldn't get hurt!" he hissed.

"Would you calm down?"

"I will not calm down! What have you done?" Zuko shook Toph's shoulders as if he could force the confession out of her. He had only just heard about Katara and the Empress and he was livid. And scared. His hands hadn't stopped shaking. The whole point of the coup was to gain peace without any more death. And Toph had almost caused two, going rogue on their plan. Zuko could see the Empress clearly in his mind, her smooth dark skin and blue eyes, so like Katara's…

He hadn't been to see her yet. Loq had told him about the Empress's passing a few moments ago, while he was getting food. Judging by the tranquility of the mess hall, he guessed that not many of the other servants knew, either. The Empress had been kind to all the palace workers, and he knew her death would rattle them.

"I didn't do anything!" Toph shot back at him, pushing against his chest, making him take a step back. He just stared at her.

"What do you mean?" He lowered his voice. "Don't you know who was behind the attack?" With the soldiers at the execution and the guards protecting the Emperor and Prince, the palace was practically defenseless; it had been the perfect opportunity for someone to strike. He assumed Toph had launched the coup without telling him, without giving him any warning to keep Katara safe. But now that he thought about it, that seemed rather uncharacteristic of her.

Toph hesitated before answering, and he could tell by the tilt of her head that she was making sure no one was listening in on their conversation.

"Come on." She grabbed his shirt sleeve and led him to a broom closet barely big enough to fit both of them. Safe in the confined space, Zuko let a small flame burn from his finger. Even that small act of bending felt incredible, like he had been crouching on his hands and knees for the past few months and was finally able to stand. The light illuminated Toph's face. She was usually so composed—it worried him to see her this distraught.

"Zuko, the people who attacked Katara and killed the Empress…they were the ones I warned you about."

His breath caught. "They're already in the palace?"

"Yes."

They were both silent for a moment, the muted footsteps down the hall the only reminder that time was still passing, and that their absence would not go unnoticed.

Zuko shook his head. "What do we do?" This is all my fault, he realized gravely. If he hadn't been so reckless the night before, the guards wouldn't have been out in the city instead of in the palace. And if he hadn't let Katara go to her room alone…but he had no business following her there. If anything, it could have gotten them both in trouble. On the other hand, maybe he could have prevented the attack.

Toph had given him the responsibility of protecting the royal family, and he'd let her—and Katara—down. The flame flickered weakly.

"My people on the outside are working on it," Toph started, "but for now I guess—" She was cut off by a deep, bellowing voice echoing incoherently through the corridor. Her head turned to the sound. "What's going on out there? It feels like a stampede."

Zuko cracked the door open to see a group of soldiers standing outside the mess hall.

"Everyone out now!" one of them demanded. Two other soldiers held open the doors and more were shoving the servants out of the room and down the hall with much more force than necessary.

"Why is everyone leaving?" Toph asked. Zuko had no idea. He was debating whether to join the other servants or lock themselves in the closet when he saw Jin and Orchard being jostled with the flow of the crowd.

"We have to go," Zuko told Toph, and opened the door without hesitation. A soldier standing off to the side heard the hinges creak and spied them.

"What are you two doing down there?" He ran over and grabbed both of them, throwing them into the line of servants. Zuko weaved his way through, vaguely aware of Toph's fingers clutching the back of his shirt, and managed to catch up to Jin.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She looked relieved to see him, but there was still fear in her eyes. "We're fine."

"Do you know what this is about?"

They shook their heads. Orchard voice trembled as she explained, "They just barged in and made everyone leave. They didn't even say where we're going."

The crowd surged into the stairwell and descended to the second floor. He knew they were going to the throne room before they even turned the corner and were forced through the tall wooden doors. It was where he'd almost been sentenced to imprisonment, where the Emperor had assigned him to be Sokka's servant after Katara had saved him. She wasn't there this time. Instead, a row of soldiers stood in front of the throne where the Emperor sat deathly still with his eyes closed. Even from the back of the room Zuko could see the dark circles beneath them, stark against his unusually pale skin. Two advisors sat on either side of him, their faces stoic.

More soldiers lined the room, and a group of them enclosed the palace guards. They were all stripped of their uniforms, but Zuko recognized many of them, and even if he hadn't it was clear from their large, muscled bodies what their jobs were. Usually they appeared fearless and ruthless, but now they looked like…children. Small, frightened children. He felt fingernails dig into his forearm and saw Jin looking in the same direction, her face crumpling at the sight of the guards.

The servants were ushered towards the front of the room and made to genuflect before the Emperor. Zuko bit the inside of his cheek to keep from lashing out at the soldier who kicked the back of his knees, causing him to collapse against the ice floor; he tasted blood.

He assumed all the servants had been gathered when he heard the echoing thud of the wooden doors and the second thud of the heavy beam that locked them all in the room.

This isn't good, Zuko thought, worry tickling at the base of his neck.

Only then did the Emperor stir. His hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose and he frowned, revealing deep wrinkles around his lips that Zuko had never seen before.

"I'm sure by now you've all heard what happened last night," he said in a tight voice, his eyes still closed. "For those of you who don't know, let me enlighten you. Last night, the palace was attacked by an assassin who attacked our Princess and murdered our Empress."

There was an audible ripple through the crowd from those who hadn't known. It became clear why they'd been gathered:

The murderer hadn't been caught.

"This was not only an attack on the royal family. This was an attack on the entire Water Empire, and the assailant will be punished as I see fit."

The Emperor finally opened his eyes. Zuko was shocked to see that the whites of his eyes were veined with red and that his blue irises—so similar to Katara's—were circled in crimson. He had seen Katara get upset enough to know that the Emperor had been crying. Even as he spoke to the gathering Zuko could see his eyes begin to water.

"Such an act of terrorism will not be tolerated!" He slammed his hand on the arm of the throne. "Who was it that committed this atrocity? I demand to know immediately!" His voice shook with something—whether rage, or passion, or sadness, Zuko couldn't tell. And although he didn't feel any sympathy for this man who had done so many horrible things, he could almost understand. He had lost his mistress and wife within a year of each other, and almost his daughter—the heir to his throne—with them. When Azula had been killed, Zuko's entire family had been racked with anger and heartache. The entire nation had grieved. It had taken Zuko years to heal, and even still he felt the pain of losing his sister all the time.

Zuko loved Azula. And while he never thought he could have anything in common with Emperor Hakoda, he was surprised, and somewhat disturbed, to see his own grief reflected in his eyes.

The Emperor gestured to the soldiers by the wall and they escorted the guards in front of the throne.

"You," he sneered down at them. None would look him in the eye. "You all were supposed to be protecting my family."

The way he spoke made Zuko's heart lurch. He never thought the Emperor could feel anything but rage and hatred. But it was right there, in the way he said 'my family.' Zuko could hear it plain as day: Misery. Loss. Desolation. Heartbreak.

"I-I am sorry, your Highness," one brave guard said. He stood in the front of the cluster, holding his hands, which were chained in ice, above his head, as if in prayer. "After the demonstration in the city we were looking for the renegades, but they had escaped. And then it was Mu Li's birthday last night, and we were supposed to be taking shifts, as we always do, but some of us might've had a little too much to drink, and-and…" His voice became thin and dry, as if trying to force the words from his throat. "We were distracted. It was an honest mistake, your Excellency."

The Emperor's expression did not change throughout the confession. Zuko could feel Jin shaking beside him, and he took her hand. She tried to smile at him, but all that came from it was a twitch of her lips. He didn't feel much like smiling either.

"An honest mistake?" the Emperor repeated. "Letting my wife die was an honest mistake?"

Without warning, his hand moved and a long, thin shard of ice lodged itself in the neck of the man who had spoken. Zuko couldn't see his face, but he heard his breath falter, then pick up, gurgling. He could imagine the blood pooling at the corners of his lips.

The soldiers dragged the man's lifeless body from the room.

"Would anyone else like to give me an excuse?" the Emperor asked, devoid of emotion, daring someone to speak up. No one did. "I thought not."

No one breathed as the Emperor fell silent, his icy eyes considering the assembly. The advisors looked at each other, but did not say anything. Even they wouldn't interfere, though Zuko knew how much they enjoyed doing that.

"I have made my decision." The Emperor gestured once more to the soldiers. "Take the guards to the cliffs immediately. They are hereby sentenced to death by drowning."

A cry broke out among the guards who protested as the soldiers began to lead them from the room like nothing more than cattle en route to slaughter, following the path of their comrade's dead body. Still kneeling, the servants said nothing. Zuko saw most drop their heads as the guards passed, too afraid to stand up for them, to stand against the Emperor. In this state, he could have the whole capital killed without a second thought. To even try and reason with him would be a death wish.

As soon as the doors closed behind the guards and their pleading cries faded, the Emperor turned his attention to the servants.

"Now you lot."

Zuko let out a hot, slow breath. It was taking all his willpower to keep from glaring up at the Emperor.

"Tell me who did this at once, and I may spare some of your lives." Jin began to shake, and Zuko tightened his grip on her hand. Calm down or you'll draw attention to yourself, he wanted to say, but he didn't dare. He couldn't risk himself now. He couldn't die, or whoever was after Katara and her family—what remained of it, anyway—would have all the opportunity in the world.

"Surely one of you must know something," continued Emperor Hakoda, sounding falsely conversational. He stood up and paced the platform. Zuko might've thought he finally got a hold of his emotions if he didn't notice the Emperor wringing his hands together, rubbing the skin raw. No, he was just trying to trick them into talking. "There was no one missing from the servant's quarters late last night? No one sneaking out to go who-knows-where and do who-knows-what?"

Zuko froze. Even though he knew beyond all doubt that he was not guilty of this crime, that sounded just like him. He stole a glance at the Emperor. A rush of adrenaline drove down his spine as he met the Emperor's gaze, and he looked down quickly. He wasn't responsible. He had nothing to do with this. No one knew he had left the palace last night. No one knew about him and Katara except for Toph, but she wouldn't give him up. No one would do that to him, no one would—

"Him!" a voice said, breaking the tense silence, and Jin's hand went absolutely still beneath his. Zuko pulled away swiftly and looked up to see all eyes on him.

This can't be happening.

Jin stared at him with wide eyes, but she hadn't spoken. Rather, an old man had stood and was pointing right at him with an accusatory finger. Zuko recognized him instantly. He was the Fire Nation traitor, the one who had deserted after he'd been drafted. The one who had declared his loyalty to the Water Empire.

"That boy didn't come back until late last night, and he's always missing for hours at a time. I'll bet he killed the Empress and attacked the Princess. I'll bet he's as assassin from the Fire Nation!" The hall buzzed with sounds of disgust for both Zuko and the traitorous old man, people who agreed that Zuko was the culprit, and people who defended him. Zuko couldn't seem to find his voice. He simply stared at the Emperor, frozen despite the fear that was boiling his insides.

The Emperor snapped his fingers and two soldiers parted the crowd of kneeling servants to grab Zuko and drag him to the throne. They threw him on his stomach and he groaned, pushing himself back to his knees. In one swift movement, the Emperor leaned down and lifted him by the throat, choking him. He glared into Zuko's eyes for a few moments, and then something sparked in their icy deadness.

"I recognize you. You're my son's servant." He turned his head, called Sokka's name, and then dropped Zuko like a sack of vegetables. He collapsed to the ground, his windpipe scratching like fire with every uneven breath. Zuko hadn't even noticed Sokka standing to the side of the room before, but now he approached the throne, arms crossed over his white robe, sword hanging from his side. His expression was unreadable. He wore the mourning colors of the Water Empire, but Zuko wondered if he truly mourned for Kya like the Emperor did, even though she was not his birth mother. He wondered if Sokka knew all Kya had done for him and Reya.

"Is this your servant?" he asked his son.

Sokka nodded. "And my sparring partner."

"What do you have to say for yourself, peasant? Did you commit this unspeakable act?"

Zuko pushed himself to his knees again and said, breathlessly, "No, your Highness." It killed him to cower before this sorry excuse for a ruler, but he had to nonetheless. He didn't have a choice; it was give in or die.

"I don't believe you."

"I swear," Zuko growled despite himself. "I was nowhere near the Empress or the Princess last night." A lie, but one that could save his skin.

"Ah," the Emperor mused, "but this man here says you were out late. Do you have an excuse for that?"

Zuko choked. He couldn't tell him the truth, that he'd been in the village early that night and later with Katara. It would contradict what he had just said and moreover, sentence him to a much worse fate. There was no way he'd be allowed to commit two counts of treason—one of them being with the Princess in that way—and make it out alive. He had to lie. He had to come up with something, an alibi, something believable, but what? He had already taken too long. What could he—

"He was with me."

He recognized her voice as soon as she spoke, and whipped his head around to see Jin standing, a sole beacon amid an ocean of iceburgs.

"With you," the Emperor repeated, dubious.

"Yes."

"Doing what?" the old traitorous man cut in skeptically, his four remaining teeth grimacing at her.

"What do you think we were doing for hours, late at night?" she snapped, insinuating just what they were apparently doing, and the old man's eyebrows shot up his forehead. Jin, for all the nervousness she was feeling before, seemed completely in control now.

"Will anyone corroborate this?" one of the Emperor's advisors asked, breaking the awkward silence that had befallen the room.

"I will," Orchard said, her voice not nearly as collected as Jin's, but certain nonetheless. "I saw them both last night. They were together, nowhere near the Empress or Princess. And they came back far before the attack happened. I swear."

The Emperor's eyes narrowed at the three of them. Sokka watched the proceedings with vague interest as well, although his face was still closed off, which was unusual for him.

"Very well." The Emperor looked at Zuko, and Zuko at him, and he saw the gears working in his mind. "I tire of this," he finally announced. "I won't kill any of you. Yet. But you'd better hope none of you are lying to me. Get them out of here." He flung his hand at the nearest line of soldiers and they began to gather the servants, most of whom took off running to the exit.

Jin met Zuko's gaze and he tried to express his gratitude through his eyes. How could he ever repay her for this? He already had a list of debts he owed her a mile long. She gave him a small smile and turned around with Orchard, leaving the room.

"You, fire brat." Zuko looked up at the Emperor, who had resumed his brooding in his throne. "Stay."

Zuko's throat tightened. What more could he possibly want from him? Unless, he realized with a chilling fear, he didn't believe Jin's story. Was he going to kill him anyway?

Zuko prepared himself for a fight, though his knees were shaking with stress and anxiety. He was in no position to bend right now. He didn't know if he could even defend himself.

The Emperor extended a hand at Sokka who approached and sat in the smaller throne beside him, kicking out one of the advisors who grimaced at the young man. Then the Emperor looked at Zuko.

"I remember you," he said, fatigue evident in his face and voice. "You're the fighter from the dungeons. The one who excelled in the trials. Zuko."

The sound of his name coming from the Emperor's lips was all wrong, but Zuko nodded once.

"And my son says you're his sparring partner."

Zuko's gaze flickered to Sokka who was regarding him indifferently. Again, Zuko nodded.

"Son," the Emperor said, almost amused, "is he a worthy opponent?"

Sokka's chin raised slightly, and his throat moved, as if he was forcing himself to say whatever was coming. "Yes, father. He is a skilled swordsman, almost equivalent to myself." Zuko fought against the urge to roll his eyes. After a pause, Sokka's flickered to Zuko, then quickly away. "He has had a few opportunities to take my life, yet he has not." A few. Yeah, okay, Zuko thought sardonically. But he had to give the Prince credit for admitting such a thing. One of the advisors jerked around at this, as if shocked the Prince would ever put himself in a position so demeaning. But Sokka stared steadily at Zuko. "He is the worthiest opponent I have had."

Zuko chest swelled at the praise despite himself. His choice of words had been backhanded, and understated, but surprisingly kind. They seemed to please the Emperor, who placed his chin on his clasped hands.

"Then it is decided. Since the guards I had previously employed have been discharged and subsequently dispatched, I have need for a personal guard for my daughter. The few remaining soldiers will be occupied training the new guard and all available personnel will be investigating my wife's murder. I can only entrust her safety to someone loyal to the Empire and strong enough to protect her." The Emperor regarded Zuko with his icy eyes. "You."

Katara was already awake by the time Toph came into her room. She couldn't tell what time of day it was, how long it had been since—

She felt so weak. Sono had been working on her injury long before she woke up. It had startled her at first to see the old man's wrinkly hands so close to her face, to feel the cool throb of healing water against her skin. Apparently he'd been doing a lot of work before, while she'd been unconscious.

"Hey, Sweetums," Toph said as she entered, a hesitant smile on her face. Katara just glanced the girl, then returned to looking at the opposite wall. There was nothing particularly interesting about the wall, which is why she so enjoyed watching it. She was waiting for it to change, somehow. To defy logic. To prove this was all a dream.

It's not.

"Sono, you can go. The Emperor wants to talk to you," Toph said to the healer, who nodded and gently replaced the white bandage on Katara's cheek. He was a squat old man with a thick gray mustache and thick glasses that made his eyes look twice their normal size. He had freaked Katara out ever since she was little, which was why she never let him heal her. She always went to her—

She had always wanted to put something on that wall. A painting or scroll or something. But she'd never gotten around to it, and today she was glad. Its plainness was distracting. Toph took Sono's seat beside her bed and leaned forward so her elbows rested on the blanket. Katara was still under the sheets, lying on her back with her arms at her sides, unable, unwilling, to move. Usually she slept on her side with her knees against her chest to keep warm. But she couldn't even remember returning to her bed last night. Earlier that morning, before everything came back to her, she woke up to Sono probing her face with glowing blue fingers, fingers that reminded her of something, of last night, of—

"How are you?" Toph asked, her voice annoyingly saccharine. Katara didn't want to look at her. She didn't want to see the pity in her eyes. So she said nothing.

Maybe if I don't move or speak she'll think I've fallen asleep. It's not like she knows if my eyes are open or closed, anyway.

She knew she should feel bad about exploiting the girl's disability, but then again, she didn't feel much of anything.

Toph's weight shifted on the bed. "I…I guess they've told you everything already, huh?"

All I need to know.

After Sono sent word that Katara was awake, her father's advisor, Korak, came in and filled her in on all the 'necessary' details.

We don't want to overwhelm you in this…state you're in, he had said.

Translation: You're too weak to handle this.

But there's been an accident.

Translation: There's been a murder.

Your mother, tragically, was injured beyond healing.

Translation: Your mother's dead.

Your father just wants you to focus on getting better.

Translation: Everyone, including your father, knows it's your fault.

Gentle fingers looked for Katara's arm under the blanket. "Katara," Toph started softly, "it's okay to be upset. No one will think less of you."

Really? They won't?

She wanted to scream. She wanted to take Toph by the shoulders and shout at her.

If I'm upset, I'm weak. If I'm weak, I lose. It's different for everyone else. Besides, it was my fault! I'm to blame! I don't deserve the privilege of being upset.

Something in the dark recesses of her mind suggested that she was being too hard on herself, but she couldn't hear it. She wouldn't. The truth was too loud.

Toph tried to talk to her, to pull her out of whatever fog she was lost in, but eventually gave up. Katara only felt relief when she left the room. A few hours later Ani came waltzing in, carrying a silver platter heaped with soups and sandwiches and a note that read "With deepest condolences, Loq," but she didn't touch it. She didn't eat anything for the next two days, despite the trays of food Ani and Toph—the only ones she allowed in the room, besides Sono—brought her.

Three days after she woke up, there was a new knock at the door. Toph had been in the room with her, just sitting silently as Katara stared at the wall—her new favorite pastime.

"Who is it?" Toph called, though Katara suspected she already knew.

"It's me," a familiar voice replied, but she couldn't quite place it.

Toph got up and padded over to the door. She stuck her head out into the hall, and Katara heard her say, "I don't think she wants to see you."

Murmuring. Then, "Okay, but I'm warning you, she's not well."

Katara heard a new, heavier set of feet enter the room as the door clicked shut behind them. Whoever it was sat in the chair beside her bed quietly. She appreciated this and thought that maybe she'd let them stay, until they started speaking.

"Katara?"

Her eyes, heavy with disuse, dragged over to him. He was a mess: wispy black strands of hair hung low over his brow, too long for his face. He had dark bags under his eyes (she couldn't imagine what she looked like, seeing as she hadn't slept for three days straight), and his skin was pale, almost ghostly yellow.

"Katara, are you okay?"

What a question, Zuko.

She wanted to spit her venonmous thoughts into his ghostly, skeleton face. But her lips wouldn't move.

"Please, Katara. Talk to me. Talk to anyone."

She wouldn't—couldn't? Zuko sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a simple action he had done so many times, something she had, at one point, almost fallen in love with. She wondered how frustrated she was making everyone. It probably would have been funny had it not been so unfunny. There was no humor in any of this.

"Okay," he sighed after a few moments, and leaned on the bed. "Then I'll talk to you. You've probably heard that I've been assigned to round-the-clock guard duty for you."

She had heard about this, actually. Toph had told her yesterday after bringing her fourth untouched bowl of soup and setting it on the table, where all the other bowls were trying so hard to grow mold. Zuko had stayed outside her room all day and all night, and even though he had his own key to her room—for safety purposes—he refused to let himself in. He had been waiting for Katara to ask for him. But apparently he'd gotten impatient. Or he simply realized that she was never going to do that.

"Sokka wasn't too happy about the situation, but he's the one that convinced your father it was a good idea, so he kind of asked for it."

Great. Another reason for my brother to hate me.

"But on the upside, I'm all yours."

Against her will and conscience, this stirred up something in her heart, something that seemed so unfamiliar to her, now. For a brief, fluttering moment, she met Zuko's unwavering gaze. Then she returned to the wall. But he kept talking.

"Katara, I know you're hurting. Believe me, I know. But you've got to start to heal. You can't keep skipping meals and staying in bed all day. I can see it in your eyes. You need to move."

I don't need to do anything.

She didn't think it with as much spite as she wanted to; some part of her knew he was right. But if she got out of this bed and started moving, watched the sun and moon rise and fall, then time would start again. As if the the piles of dishes accumulating in her room weren't proof enough that life was going on without her. She just wanted it to slow down, to wait a little longer. To give her one more try to change things.

If she could stop time like she had started to do three days ago, then maybe, just maybe….