A/N: Content warning: messed up thoughts about Death ahead.

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Pandemonium broke out immediately. As soon as the young man had staggered in covered in blood, a collective gasp had gone up. Now Yagoda and all of her students jumped to their feet. The young girls screamed and rushed to Yagoda's side. "He's badly hurt! Mistress, do something!"

Yagoda shook them off. "You," she said, pointing to a specific girl, "run and fetch Kalika. As fast as you can!" The girl ran off, along with two or three others who couldn't figure out what to do. "Clear out the room!" Yagoda barked. Katara had only known this woman for an hour, yet found herself rushing to obey. She helped the remaining young girls drag the training dummy off its platform. Yagoda pulled Zuko's limp body out of the doorway and laid it where the dummy had once been. She turned him over. "Katara, check his pulse and temperature," she ordered.

Katara hesitated, but did as requested. She took off her gloves and felt at Zuko's neck. "I can feel something, but barely. And his skin feels like ice." She put a hand on his forehead. "Same on his forehead!"

Yagoda had used water to slice Zuko's coat open. She did the same for the black shirt underneath and ripped them apart, revealing his chest. It was covered with gouges that looked like knife marks. "He's been scraped by ice," Yagoda announced. Katara helped her turn Zuko over so Yagoda could slice open the back of his shirt and coat as well, revealing that his back was even more badly scraped. "How did this boy manage to fall down an ice wall forwards and backwards?" Yagoda wondered. As she propped him up on his side, moving his arm and adjusting his head so that he would be stable there and his airways would remain open, she said, "You'd think he somehow angered a water spirit." Her tone of voice indicated that she said this in jest, because of course it wasn't actually possible.

"I'm sure he did," Katara said seriously. "And this is no time to be joking!"

"It's the perfect time to be joking, my dear. If you don't joke you run the risk of losing your nerve. A doctor can't afford to have a breakdown." Yagoda was by now doing her best to heal the area over his kidneys.

Katara hesitated. "What should I do? I've only just learned how to heal. And, uh, I don't know if it matters, but I don't like this guy."

"It doesn't matter," Yagoda snapped. "Heal those scratches on his face. A doctor can't afford to hesitate."

Katara swept up some water and applied to it to Zuko's face, which was snow white and bloodless. Her hands shook. To steady them, she forced herself to follow Yagoda's example and talk. "He's so cold and pale. The hypothermia's probably the only reason he hasn't died of blood loss."

Yagoda nodded. "Normally one of the first things I would do for any patient who was seriously ill is make them a fire. Sick people can't regulate their own temperatures very well. But in his case, we'll have to hurry to seal his cuts before he warms up."

Just then, a girl about Katara's age came running in. Her face was more angular and her eyes were set in a serious manner that could have alternated from motherly to queenlike depending on her mood. "Diagnosis?" she asked as she ran around to Zuko's front side.

"Scraped by ice, forwards and backwards," Yagoda told her.

The girl already had her healing hands on the most serious of Zuko's frontward injuries. Katara sensed the presence of a vastly more experienced doctor and backed off so she didn't get in the way. "He's severely hypothermic, which is why he hasn't already bled out," she informed the other girl. "I'll keep checking his pulse and temperature." She put her hands on Zuko's neck and head, which felt exactly as cold as they had before.

"You have good instincts, Katara," Yagoda praised. "You know when and where to act. If you keep learning the healing arts, you'll someday be as good a doctor as Kalika here." The watching girls exclaimed in amazement. That was clearly the highest of praise.

"Thank you." Katara's brow furrowed. "He doesn't feel any warmer."

"Good," Kalika said.

"No, I've had my hands on this exact spot for almost a minute." She checked again with the fresh skin on the back of her hand. "Shouldn't it be warmer now?"

"Is he at all wet?" Kalika asked, not taking her eyes from the spot she was healing.

"No."

"Compare the temperature of his face to his chest."

Katara felt in both places. "The same."

"So why is he hypothermic?" Kalika asked. "If it's not from submersion, and it's not from wind exposure -"

"It must be because of the water spirit," Katara said. That conclusion made no sense whatsoever, but it was the only one available.

"What water spirit is this?" Kalika asked. She and Yagoda used their waterbending to wash away blood, then moved on to other spots where he was still bleeding.

"The water spirit he's been fighting with lately," Katara said. "He probably did something stupid like try to attack it. He does that to everybody. I'm not surprised if even a spirit lost its patience with him. If he keeps acting the way he does, nobody will want to put up with him."

"Stay focused," Kalika admonished. "The water spirit that inflicted these injuries probably isn't the same one keeping him cold. Another one must have taken pity on him. Water spirits have been known to show generosity, but we should never take their gifts for granted. We've got to keep healing as fast as we can before he starts to warm up."

She and Yagoda kept healing as fast as they could. They left some of the major gouges only partially healed, judging them to probably be closed enough not to bleed anymore. Katara finished with the marks on his face, which looked like they came from flying ice shards. She briefly wondered what had happened between him and the water spirit before narrowing her eyes and remembering that she didn't care anymore.

She gasped as she felt a sudden heat bloom against her palms. Zuko was warming up, and fast. He warmed up fast enough that her palms felt it as a welcome relief. "He's warming up now," she told the others. "He'll be back to regular temperature in a few minutes. He doesn't need a fire."

"What?" Yagoda pushed Katara's hands away and checked for herself. Her brows rose. "You're completely right. Now that's eerie."

Kalika had to check for herself too before she believed it. "What is going on with this guy?" she muttered.

Katara looked up at her. "Do you really want to find out?" Kalika nodded. Katara scrutinized her again, noticing the similarities between them. One of the worst things about Zuko suddenly turning around and revealing himself as a manipulative traitor was that she would never get to finish her quest to understand him. Maybe she could get closure if she passed that quest on to someone else. "Then be my guest," she told Kalika. "I am not his friend, not anymore. I certainly can't be his doctor. You should do it."

Kalika nodded. "I will do my best." She looked down at Zuko. "Now, this man needs to go to the hospital."

While everybody was watching, the ice surrounding Zuko turned to water and a thin line of it lifted up into the air. Everyone gasped. The line refroze into ice as the water reached up and grabbed his clothes, brought their cut seams back together. The water spirit swiftly sewed both his shirt and his coat back together. Before anyone could break out of their shock and react, it was done. Zuko was ready for transport.

Katara's old instincts immediately reacted. This had to be the work of the same water spirit that had attacked him, since it was the only water spirit that ever showed itself in this manner. Why would it attack and nearly kill him, then gently sew up his clothes? The contradiction made no - But then Katara remembered that she didn't care about him anymore, and looked away. She helped the younger girls get a blanket over him and load him onto a sled, saying nothing.

Afterwards, she supposed that since she had been involved and knew all parties, it was technically her duty to inform Iroh. She turned away from the hospital building and huffed. Fine. She would take her duty as a doctor seriously, but no more. It only occurred to her as she was walking away to wonder when she had started thinking of herself as a doctor.

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Iroh was strolling around the city, getting acquainted with it. He would scold Zuko for running off without even leaving a note when his nephew returned. Now, he enjoyed his walk. Every twist and turn seemed to bring him into the company of another person who was fascinated by his coat. He told them the story of how he had purchased it from a skilled seamstress with lots of time on her hands, again and again. He didn't mind. It was a nice story. He had some interesting discussions about circles.

He was surprised to see the Avatar's waterbender friend making her way towards him. They had all been so badly burned by Zuko that he expected to be ignored by association, and he would not blame them if that was the case. He broke off his latest conversation, telling the woman and her children that he had something important to attend to. Katara looked very serious. Iroh faced her just as seriously. "What's happened?"

"Your nephew's in the hospital," she told him. "It's that way." She gave directions. "He's being looked after by Kalika. She has him all patched up. He's recovering, but unconscious." She then turned and marched away. She might have been a complete stranger. But Iroh had more important things to do than indulge in hurt feelings. He took off towards the hospital at a fast walk. The woman with her children, who had stayed nearby and heard everything, stepped back to make way for him. He thanked her as he passed.

"I'm Lee's uncle," he told a woman at the hospital. "The young man with the scar over his eye." She nodded and led him into the back of the hospital. The hospital had several rooms, seemingly according to the nature and severity of the injury. She led him to a room where nearly all of the patients were unconscious. Two young men with head injuries groaned or whimpered in their sleep to the right, and an older man with casts on both of his legs looked up at them from the left. Iroh had eyes only for the patient right in front of him. He knelt by Zuko's side, anxiously scanning his face. "He's so pale," Iroh exclaimed.

"Blood loss," murmured the young woman standing next to him. She had come in and replaced his guide while he was too distracted to notice. She joined him on the floor, her gentle eyes fixed on Zuko. "Katara said he probably picked a fight with a water spirit."

Iroh sighed. "He probably did." He looked sternly down at Zuko. "My nephew's been picking fights with a lot of people lately, even me. Something's wrong with him, but I don't know what. He hasn't been telling me his troubles anymore."

Kalika looked up at him. "Do you think he would tell a doctor?" she asked.

Iroh shrugged. "I don't know. You're welcome to try, but I don't think his problems are the sort that can be helped by a doctor."

"There's more to being a doctor than healing injuries of the body," Kalika said. "We also heal injuries of the spirit. Yagoda tells me I'm the best spiritual healer she's seen in decades. I have to try."

Iroh thanked the stars, the spirits, and everyone else there was to thank. He even thanked the water spirit, for bringing Zuko into the company of this wonderful young lady. He hadn't known that water healers could heal a person's spirit. She could be the answer to all of his hopes. "I would be so grateful if you would. Thank you very much."

They sat there for several more minutes, but there was no sign of Zuko waking up anytime soon. Iroh pulled the blanket up a little higher and left him, talking with Kalika the whole way. He gave her directions to the house where they were staying.

Behind them, Zuko's eyes twitched. He looked so peaceful. There was no way for anyone to tell that he was having the worst experience of his life.

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Before he could say anything Zuko fell down, down, into an ocean of darkness. It rushed in around him, closing, enfolding him in its cold embrace. He could do nothing. He didn't want to do anything. The embrace was cold but gentle. He felt himself drifting gently downward like a feather. He didn't know where he was going, but he had no fear of it. Everything was quiet. He couldn't remember the last time it had ever been this quiet. There was no contemptuous voice, no hurry, no war here. For the first time in forever, he felt peace.

He saw a vision in the distance. It came closer, its details growing sharper. It was the garden of the imperial palace, where he had played in his childhood. How long ago that was. He landed softly, so softly, on the grass. He looked into the pond. There were no turtleducks in it now. He saw only the bottom of the pond through the clear, undisturbed water. He looked through the water down at the bottom of the pond. It seemed to grow larger. He felt a gentle touch on his hand and looked down. Without noticing, he had reached into the water.

This was familiar. Why was it familiar? Zuko struggled to understand, even as the cool darkness urged him to let go of all struggle. He looked at the water. Abruptly it turned reflective, showing him his own face. He remembered. This was The Nightmare. This was Death.

He pulled his forearm out of the water and stood up. But it was difficult and his legs were weak. He was so cold. His concentration faltered, restored when he heard the faint splash as he stepped into the water. He stepped back. He was so tired. It was hard to struggle, and it was peaceful here, and maybe he could rest for a few minutes… He found himself kneeling in the water. It had become deeper. The pond he knew could have its bottom touched if a person kneeling at its edge leaned forward a little. The pond in the vision was already deep enough for him to lie in and be submerged entirely, and getting deeper. He stood, struggled backward, tried to get out of it.

But he was so cold and tired… And the water was so soft and peaceful… He remembered how cool and peaceful it had been, how unafraid he was. He wanted to not have to be afraid. He wanted that more than anything.

Still he struggled. He struggled, and he concentrated, but he found himself slipping into the water. A moment's lapse, and he would reach out to it. He tried to climb out again and again, but slipped deeper, deeper, up to his waist, up to his neck… He knew what would happen if he was submerged. Death would have him, and it would take him, and he would never have to be afraid again.

He gripped the edge of the pond. The darkness was so kind. It promised him that he would never be in pain again, never suffer again. He could be at peace. His grip weakened. What did the world have to hold him by? All his bonds were broken. He had no place. He had been rejected, exiled from his home. He could slip away and nobody would miss him. Was it wrong to want to be happy?

He sank a little deeper, and his grip tightened. He held himself up for just a little longer. Just a little longer. He didn't know exactly why. He wanted to go away with the cool water, really he did, but he had to tell Aang something. The boy needed guidance. And he ought to leave clues for Katara so she could continue their game. If he could just climb out of the water, he could write her a note…

In the darkness, a light flashed. Zuko stared at it without understanding. He rose out of the water. He hadn't put in any extra effort, but he was warmer now and stronger. The warmth built and built. He climbed out of the pond. His tiredness evaporated. He blinked, feeling more awake. He looked back at the pond, which receded from him, disappearing into the distance.

And then he began to scream, and scream, and scream.

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A/N: The position Yagoda puts him into, where he is stable on his side and his airways stay open, is something I've really heard about. It's called the recovery position. It's technically meant to be used in first aid situations where there is a danger of an unconscious person drowning on their own fluids, for example if someone has alcohol poisoning. I imagined it would also be useful any time you needed an unconscious person on their side for any reason.