The Blue Spirit slipped out of the second-story window. He was dressed all in black. The only ice he wore was the sheathe for his swords and the paws his hands had been turned into. His fingers were still nimble enough to handle swords, but they ended in sharp points and his palm was thicker than normal. He slid down the back wall of his building, his fingers scratching the ice, and leaped off partway down. He looked around, saw no one, and ran to the nearest space between buildings. But the Blue Spirit, according to his private imaginings, was closely related to Air. He felt claustrophobic and went back out into the street. He needed to go somewhere. Where?

The air answered. It blew down the street, and he went along with it. Where a building blocked its gusts, he climbed up the side of the building. The ice that the building was made of assisted him. He wasn't climbing so much as walking on four legs.

Once on the roof, in the open air, he paused to think. His father and everyone else he had ever known told him that he was a failure and should be ashamed. Kalika told him he was special and should not be ashamed. What did he believe? Neither of those things. The Blue Spirit was descended from Air. He didn't care. Other people's words had no importance whatsoever. The burden of deciding what he believed once and for all, as if that must be how he lived forever and ever, was no burden at all. It was ridiculous. Why choose? Why decide? Why not be and stay a shapeshifter? In that respect, he agreed with Kalika.

He crossed the rooftop courtyard in bursts, swiftly skipping from house to house, until he reached the other side. Then he slid down the wall again. He knew where he wanted to go: the large fountain that he had passed on Appa's back as the whole party first entered the city, so long ago. But how should he get there? He did not want to be identified. He ran to the nearest bridge and climbed directly up its side, shimmying along its underside across the canal. It felt good to travel in unconventional ways. Freeing, like every time he did so he rejected gravity's insistence on obedience. I obey nothing.

He made it to the fountain without seeing anyone. The water still ran, its quiet splashing strangely subdued in the nighttime. He watched the running water, looking at how the remaining light shimmered on its surface.

Maybe he saw something in the reflections. Maybe he heard a sound. Maybe it was just instinct. Either way, he looked up at the roof of the building across the canal. His head turned calmly, as if he knew what he would see.

Someone was watching him.

In the dark, it was hard to make out details. The person was probably a man, or they could have been a woman with their hair tied up. On the taller side. That was all he could see. The Blue Spirit and the mysterious person watched each other. Neither one moved. Normally, he would have been frightened at being spotted. But this time, he felt himself in the company of a kindred spirit. At last he had found someone else who was awake in the nighttime, who stood on a roof in the wind and watched. Zuko knew anybody who spied on him in the Northern Water Tribe logically must be his enemy. By definition, they wanted to find out things he did not want anybody to find out. But the person on the roof looked friend-shaped.

He turned back to the fountain and held out a hand. Water gathered into a ball that he held in his palm. He froze it into a sphere of ice and held it out to the mysterious person. After doing so for several seconds, he placed the sphere of ice gently on the edge of the fountain. Then he stood, circled around the fountain, and climbed a building next to it. He headed in the opposite direction, disappearing from the person's sight as fast as he could.

He went back to his building and crept back into the second-story window. It was, of course, filled with a pane of ice to keep warm air in. That didn't matter. He took off the mask, put his white clothes back on and had the water spirit unmake his swords. He stuffed the hilts and the mask into his pack, which still lay against one wall, and took it downstairs. By this time, everyone was gone and Iroh was asleep. Zuko's footsteps could not be heard over the sound of his uncle's snoring. He put the pack back in its place and slid into bed, into dreams.

.

Sokka yelped and threw off his blankets. He sat up, heart pounding. But as he looked around, he didn't know what he was looking for. Already, his memory was fading. He remembered only brief images: looking into the distance and seeing something dark standing in the shadows. No, more than dark. As if it consumed the light around it. As if it was made of darkness. He shook his head and told himself it was just a dream. It didn't mean anything.

"Sokka?" Aang asked.

"Is something wrong?" mumbled Katara.

"No. It was just a bad dream." Sokka pulled his blankets back up and went back to sleep.

All too soon, he woke up again. This time it was because the room was very bright. Katara woke up with a yawn. She stretched, then turned to wake up Aang. Sokka found the last of their seal jerky and ate a stick for himself. He passed the rest around.

"Thanks, Sokka." Katara looked down at her food, then up at him. "I really am sorry for making plans without you. I was just upset that my own approach didn't seem to be valued, so I fought back by doing the same to you. It wasn't right of me."

"Why didn't you just tell me you felt ignored?" Sokka asked.

"I didn't know how to."

"Well, I'm sorry you thought you had to do that." He scratched his head. "Is being a good person really so important to you that you'd rather risk your life than be a bad one?"

Katara nodded.

"Personally, I would do whatever worked. But that's just me. She was right. Having different approaches to our problems is good. It means we can watch each other's backs."

"You make sure we stick to our goals, and I make sure we stick to our principles," Katara offered.

"That sounds great." Sokka shook hands with her.

"I like this a lot better than arguing and deciding things alone," Aang said.

"No more deciding alone," Katara said. "From now on, if something important is happening, we find each other and have a group huddle. Like we did when we decided whether to let Zuko teach you things."

"And no more insults," Sokka said. "Or implied insults. I won't call anyone's ideas stupid ever again."

"We'll probably slip up. If anyone catches anyone else falling back into old habits, you have to call them out on it and they are not allowed to be offended." Katara looked around. Sokka and Aang agreed with her.

"This is weird," Aang said. "I never thought we would have to figure out how to talk to each other. Isn't talking to your friends supposed to come naturally?"

"It's okay," Katara replied. "It's not like we're failing at something everyone else does perfectly. Kalika didn't look surprised, and something she said to Iroh makes me think he has problems talking to Zuko. If someone so old and wise can have trouble talking to their own nephew, then I think we're doing fine."

Sokka raised a hand. "Speaking of which, I'd like to request a group huddle about Zuko. Kalika didn't tell us anything we didn't already know. He changes his behavior constantly, and there's no way to predict it. What do we do?"

"We shouldn't be trying to reach one group consensus on that," Katara told him. "You and I protect this group in different ways, so we should take separate tacks. I'll reach out to him and use diplomancy. You set hard and fast rules about what he is and isn't allowed to do. That way, if he objects, he'll be mad at you and not me, so it won't get in the way of my strategy."

"And what do you think, Aang?"

Aang looked at both of them. "I think, as Avatar, I'm expected to keep everyone in the whole world safe. It's a big job. So I'm really glad you guys don't expect me to keep you safe, too. Thanks for giving me a break."

Sokka sat up a little straighter and put a hand on his chest. "I'm a warrior. It's what I do."

"This feels really good," Katara said with a smile. "We're doing something right. Now come on, guys. We have a long day ahead."

.

Iroh rubbed his eyes and yawned. Zuko was right; the nightmares had come back. After running out, Zuko had returned at some point and gone back to sleep. He was sleeping deeply now. Iroh used this time to compare Kalika's questioning approach with his own, and also to make breakfast.

He shook Zuko awake when breakfast was done. Zuko groaned. "Stupid nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"If you ever do, I will listen," Iroh promised. He served breakfast. When they both held warm bowls of seafood soup, he asked, "How does it feel to have a name for your difficulties?"

Zuko shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't."

Iroh ate his own breakfast. He couldn't fully replicate Kalika's approach because he didn't have any official authority. Kalika's pauses to write notes, the fact that she was taking notes in the first place, did wonders to help her. He would have to create his own method.

After eating, Iroh asked, "Who was the young lady you talked to last night?"

"A friend."

"A lady friend?"

Zuko shot him a glare. "I'm tired, Uncle. Stop bothering me."

"Okay, I will."

They waited for Kalika to arrive. It was a long wait. Iroh was beginning to wonder if she was coming, even though she had promised, when finally she arrived. She looked tired. Her two braids were perfectly arranged, her posture as elegant as always, and her face set professionally. Still, to his knowledgeable eye, she looked tired. "Hello," she greeted them. She sat down near the fire as usual. But she did not reach out for food. "Is there anything you would like to talk about, Lee?"

"There is," Zuko answered. He headed for the stairs. She followed him. Iroh was left alone.

He did some more stretches. He performed a few exercises, noting that they seemed more difficult than he remembered. So he performed a few more. The burn in his muscles was pleasant and invigorating. It brought a smile to his face.

When Zuko and Kalika came down, they found him trying his hand at a game someone at the diner had introduced him to. "Fishsticks!" Kalika said. "I loved that as a kid. Did you learn it here?"

"Yes. I'm still getting a feel for it." Iroh beamed at her. "How was your talk?"

"I recommend you tell him," Kalika said to Zuko.

"No."

"If you ever change your mind, I will listen," Iroh promised again.

Zuko's hands curled into fists. "That's the problem."

"Would you like breakfast?" Iroh asked Kalika.

"I would." She came over and accepted a bowl. Iroh went back to his game. Neither of them pressed Zuko for anything more.

When Kalika was all but done with her bowl, Zuko said, "I think I've figured out what was wrong."

Iroh looked up and saw him sitting on the pelts that made up his bed, facing away. Zuko sounded strange. Contemplative. On him, that was strange. "What was wrong?"

"When I…you know…finally pulled off that thing I'd been trying to do for months, you weren't as proud of me as I thought you would be. You said something strange to me, about my kind heart. I yelled at you. I've thought about it ever since, wondering why I yelled at you. It was a compliment. Wasn't it?" Zuko paused for effect. "Now I understand. I yelled at you because it wasn't a compliment."

Iroh's blood chilled. He heard Aunt Wu's voice as clearly as if the old seer was sitting next to him. Words you have said will come back to haunt you.

"You said my kind heart was your favorite part of me." Zuko turned around. "More recently, you said my mother is honored by every kind thing I do. So what about the parts of me that aren't kind? They're not your favorite, so what are they? Useless? Is my mother dishonored by every unkind thing I do?" He paused again. "If I become less kind, will you not love me anymore?"

Iroh's mouth fell open. Zuko might as well have wielded a spear. A single remark, intended to compliment and encourage further kindness, had convinced him that Iroh didn't truly care about him? Haunted indeed! "I didn't intend to say any of that," Iroh rushed to say. "You're right. A statement like that isn't always a compliment. I was careless."

"No," Zuko said. "You were just acting like everyone else. There are parts of me that are liked, and parts of me that aren't. Everybody would like to keep the good parts and get rid of the bad ones. It's only natural."

Iroh's blood turned to sharp, stabbing ice crystals. No, no, no. He hadn't meant to say any of that. "Nephew -"

"This is why I don't do as you ask." Zuko shot him a look. "You'd like me to be pleasant and friendly more often. But if I do, then people expect it from me all the time. I don't mind it if people think I'm just an angry jerk. If they think that's all I am, they adjust to it. I'd rather that than constant criticism."

"That's not -"

"I'm not going to listen to criticism anymore. I'm not going to bend to what other people want me to be." Zuko's voice rose, growing more and more energized. "Everybody keeps asking me to bend every which way, and I'm done. I'm tired and I'm sick of it and I won't do it anymore!"

He shot to his feet and stood, panting, looking down at Iroh. His eyes glowed in a way that Iroh had never seen before. Iroh was speechless. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know who he was looking at.

"You don't have to take criticism if it doesn't help you," Kalika murmured.

Zuko switched his gaze to her. He raised his head. "This city full of strangers knows more about me than my own family. They know I'm not like anyone else. They know I can do great things. They know I'm someone they'll never, ever be able to pin down." He looked back at Iroh. "You want to get to know me? Then go to that diner you like and ask your new friends what they've heard about me. They've never met me, but they know me."

"I'll do that," was all Iroh could think to say.

"Good." Now Iroh was sure he'd never seen this persona before. He'd never seen Zuko standing so tall, so straight, his eyes glowing so confidently. "If anyone asks you about me while you're there, tell them I'd prefer they asked me directly. I'll answer any question. Tell them to send their kids - I like talking to kids. Little kids are cool."

"I'll say that," Iroh said. Zuko had given him orders while they traveling by boat, of course, but never orders like this. Those orders were disguised expressions of need: a child's Please help me, repackaged in more adult-sounding vocabulary. This was something else. Iroh realized he was looking at the person Zuko would become as a mature adult. Instantly his fear evaporated. "Who are you?"

"You don't know?"

Iroh shook his head.

"Your memory must be going," Zuko said. "I'm a dragon."

"Oh, now I recognize that glint in your eyes." It had seemed oddly familiar.

"I think I'll spend time in town today," Zuko said, turning away. "Find out what people are saying about me now. Answer some questions. Test out my new skills. Maybe I'll even find out who that person was." He disappeared through the doorway and was gone.

A scratching sound drew Iroh's attention. Kalika was writing in a small notebook. "I know what I'm doing today," she muttered.

Since she was busy, Iroh took some time to think for himself. Aunt Wu's prediction had come true. He had said something he should not have. But, even though it was a mistake, something good had come of it. This new dragon persona looked very good. It should be encouraged.

Wait… Wasn't that just what Zuko had complained about?

Kalika put her notebook away. "I'm going to spend my day encouraging him to keep this up," she told Iroh. "The key is to do it through action, not words. Did I ever tell you what Katara told me? She told me that men and women learn differently. Women can be told who they are. Men have to see it for themselves. I'm going to invite Lee to do things that'll show him how competent and strong he is. First, I'm going to round up a bunch of children. And I know exactly where to get them." She shot Iroh a reassuring smile and nodded, then left.

Iroh sighed. Why were the words that haunted him not the words that should haunt him? If only his own spoken wisdom could be convinced to linger in his mind.

…His own spoken wisdom…

Iroh leaped to his feet and raced outside. He looked around. But he could not see Zuko anywhere.

He found Kalika, though. "Excuse me," he called to her, panting. "Pass on a message to the spirit of Water for me. Tell my nephew to remember what he said while we were watching the clouds." Before Kalika could respond, there was a splash in the canal next to them. They looked; there was no sign of anything that could have caused the splash. Iroh grinned. "Thank you," he told Kalika.

"My pleasure," she replied, giggling. "This world that Lee lives in is amazing. I know what he meant now. He told me in our first real session that he lived in the spiritual dimension of this world. What he meant is that he lives surrounded by spirits. It's wonderful. I wish more people could live like that." She looked at the water, which was smooth now, and sighed. "Is that all you needed?"

"Yes. Good luck rounding up your children." Iroh hurried back to his building and picked up his Pai Sho set. He had promises to keep.

.

A/N: Sokka's scene was inspired by a conversation with Liessa17. Thank you!

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but even if I have, it's worth repeating. One of the theme songs for this story is "You Don't Know," by Katelyn Tarver. I'll save the other theme song for another chapter.