Katara came up behind Matthew to find him studying the strange journal they'd found back at the library. He seemed completely enraptured by the thing, muttering to himself and occasionally running his fingers over the sketches.

She had something else in mind for him. She swiped the book from him.

"H-hey! Give back!" He grabbed at it awkwardly with both hands.

She was relieved to see him so recovered already. She'd been so worried that he had starved himself past the point of return in that spirit-forsaken desert. The way he'd collapsed off the deck of their escort's sand sailer had sent all of his friends into a panic.

The sandbenders had told them not to let him drink too much too quickly, and to consume plenty of fruit. It was odd advice to Katara, but it had apparently worked. Because two days later he was both lucid and walking.

And also peeling. Which was the single–

–grossest thing–

–she'd ever witnessed. If that was what they had to look forward to every time Matthew got too much sunlight, Katara was about to put sleeves and hoods on all of his clothes.

Shoving that horrifying memory away, Katara smiled deviously and held the book high above her head, far out of his seated reach. "You can have it back after training."

Matthew stood with a confused frown. "What 'training'?"

Katara boldly took him by the wrist and tugged him towards the pooling water at the base of the roaring waterfall. She pulled a ball of ice out from the water. She offered it to him, just like last time.

She remembered all too late back when they'd decided to show Matthew waterbending for the very first time. That Matthew had been trying to tell them something—...and how neither she nor Aang had even noticed that the ball of ice that had been there was nowhere to be found.

He was probably thinking about the exact same moment, because now the blond looked at the ice like it was going to bite his thumbs off. She pushed it into his hands. "Just like before. Do you remember?"

Matthew hesitated. "The ball…collapsed?"

"Melted," Katara offered. "Water melts instead of collapsing—usually. Do you remember how it felt?"

"Ah." Then Matthew shrugged. "I don't remember how that felt. I thought you did that."

Katara thought hard. "What about in the desert? You were acting really weird, remember?"

Violet eyes narrowed slightly. "If this is about the ration thing…"

"Not that part," Katara promised. They could discuss that later. "Didn't you…well, do you remember how you needed water?"

"Everyone needs water in the desert," Matthew said doubtfully.

"You know it was different for you," Katara said. "Describe the feeling to me."

Matthew started spinning the ball of ice between his fingers, arranging his thoughts carefully. "It was strange," he admitted slowly. "It was deep and–pushing very hard. But not painful or anything just…" he trailed off, struggling to find the correct words. He'd come incredibly far with talking over the past few days, but it was times like this that reminded Katara just how alien this all was for him. "It was…deep?"

Katara nodded and tried a different track. "Okay. How did you feel when you drank water?"

"Glad," Matthew shrugged. "But it was very little. I was thinking about what I'd do to have more, and then the glaciers back home and—" the spinning ball melted into nothing in his hands, shocking him into silence.

"Oh, Matthew!" Katara exclaimed happily. She pulled him into a tight hug. "Don't you see? You're a waterbender!"

The confused blond jolted at the unexpected contact. "I-I am?"

"Yes!" Katara released him from her embrace and looked towards Sokka and Aang, who were studying their maps safely from drier land. "Isn't this great?"

Sokka blinked and glanced up at her for a moment. "Uh, yeah! That's great!"

Aang didn't interact, narrowing his eyes slightly at the map as though in deep concentration. Katara withheld her sigh. Of course he was still upset about Appa and everything but this new emotionless visage he was putting up wasn't helping matters any.

"I found our way to Ba Sing Se," Sokka announced. "Everyone come take a look."

"Hold on, lemme get my readers," Toph scoffed.

Sokka showed incredible restraint in biting back his retort as he rolled out the map further.

Katara smiled at Matthew and led him away from the water's edge. "We'll work together on this later."

"I spy with my little eye–"

"Alfred, if you finish that sentence I swear I will throw your spectacles into the bay," Zuko growled at him.

"They'll remember that if you do." The blond sniffed his bowl experimentally. "So is this edible sludge, or rotted military ration sludge?"

"The latter," Iroh sighed, dumping his bowl over the side of the ferry. He glanced sideways at a couple coming by to enjoy the view of the bay. "We're switching to Common Language, Alfred. There's people coming around."

Alfred nodded and frowned back into his bowl. Then, to his companions' utter shock and disgust, he plugged his nose and gulped the repulsive stuff down in three. He exhaled through his teeth with a grimace, responding to their disbelieving faces with a shrug as if to say, 'Still edible, though.'

Zuko brought his own bowl up to his lips. Because if Alfred could do it then surely…

"Ack!" He had to spit it out. It tasted like a cold, congealed mixture of mud and something unspeakably greasy. He chucked the entire bowl over the railing. "I'm so sick of sleeping in the dirt and eating scraps!

A new voice rang out from behind. "Aren't we all."

Zuko covered his surprise by leaning forward against the rail. He studied the stranger coming to join them on the railing from the corner of his eye. Black hair, mismatched armor, hooked swords, with two friends trying to hang out on Zuko's "bad" left side.

"The name's Jet," the stranger introduced himself with a confident smirk. "And these are my Freedom Fighters. Smellerbee, and Longshot."

Oh, joy. Guerilla fighters. Before Zuko could properly bite the kid's head off, Iroh stepped in with a half-bow. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintances. What brings you to this section of the ferry?"

"I'm glad you asked," Jet said. He went right down to business. "Okay, here's the deal. I hear the captain's been eating like a kind, and leaving the rest of us his scraps…pretty unfair, isn't it?"

'Lots of things aren't fair,' Zuko thought wryly. The cost of the ticket for this slow ferry across the bay had generously included two meals–no one had said they would be good ones.

Zuko could already see where this one was going, and he wasn't looking for Jet's kind of trouble. "Can't help you."

"What kind of king is he eating like?" Iroh wondered.

"The fat and happy kind."

Iroh sighed longingly. Zuko felt his own stomach rumble with hunger. They'd had to drop most of their supplies with Uncle's mysterious contacts at the 'Oasis. Namely the ostrich horse…and what had been left of their food.

"You're capable, and your tall friend with the hammer looks pretty strong. Unless I missed my guess. So what d'you say? You wanna help us liberate some food?" Jet craned his neck slightly to catch Alfred's eye as well. The blond missed it entirely.

Zuko glanced at his uncle (desperately) for guidance. Iroh shrugged. "Use your own judgment, Nephew."

The scarred teen considered it. It would be best to say no. This was just begging for attention, which was the absolute last thing they needed right now. Zuko knew he could take care of himself. However he couldn't account for these strangers' skills. What if they got caught? Over one meal?

Zuko exhaled. Except…it wasn't just one meal, was it? Zuko knew that he and his could manage. But what about the other refugees? The old, the frail, the very young? All day with no food, perhaps longer for the truly hard-up ones. Zuko hadn't been the most forgiving captain back when he had his ship, but he'd never been cruel like that. And those had been soldiers.

"Hey. Hey, tall guy." Jet waved to get Alfred's attention. "What about you?"

Alfred stared uncomprehendingly at the guerilla fighter.

"Silent type?" Jet guessed. "Even better. Just give me a nod."

And really he didn't know how else to pull Jet's focus off of Alfred. "I'm in."

Jet blinked back at Zuko, who caught the flash of calculation that came just before the smile. "Meet me here tonight." He and his little posse sauntered away.

As soon as he was gone, Iroh inclined his head to Alfred and switched to High Court. "You have a question."

"Yeah, what's happening with that guy?"

"A clandestine operation," Iroh said. "Zuko's going to help him get some decent food for everyone on this ferry."

"Oh so he gets to do ninja shit while I can't even talk in public?" Alfred put a hand theatrically to his chest. "I feel wounded."

"Alf–"

"Disregarded!"

"Alfred—"

"Betraaaaayed!"

"Alfred!"

The blond paused his dramatic flopping against the railway. "What?"

Too late, people were looking at them. But Jet and his little devotees were no longer in sight, which was a small mercy. Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the incoming Alfred-headache. "You're being too loud."

Alfred rested his elbows on the rail and propped his chin in his hand with a slight pout. "I feel illegal."

"You are illegal," Iroh chuckled. "You're a firebender on Earth Kingdom soil."

Zuko groaned at the reminder. Alfred's breath control was fine now…most of the time. But they couldn't actually advance Alfred's training and practice with open flame until they were well away from prying eyes. And Ba Sing Se was nothing but.

"Something wrong, Zuko?"

The scarred teen shook his head. "I'm just trying to figure out how we're going to pull this off without burning something to the ground or getting killed." 'Or both.'

"None of us have died yet." Alfred stepped away from the railing and stretched his arms high overhead. "No reason to start now."

When he began wandering off Zuko snagged his sleeve. "You shouldn't go off alone right now."

The blond gave Zuko a surprisingly dark glower. "Think I can manage the restroom without help, thanks." He tugged his arm free and walked (i.e. stalked) off before Zuko had a chance to explain.

Iroh watched him go with a curious little smile. At Zuko's asking glance, he shrugged. "Oh…well, of course that temper couldn't hold a candle to any of our family, but something about watching you try to shepherd a hotheaded new bender away from risk definitely gives me a rather nostalgic—"

"We're not the same," Zuko snapped, feeling his eyes narrow at the blatant comparison.

"And I never said it was you," Iroh returned coyly. Then he dropped the smile. "But it is concerning. He's not going to have a typical firebender's temperament, Nephew. Alfred is very close to his emotions. On the road, we could deal with this as it comes. But in Ba Sing Se?" Iroh tutted and shook his head. "It should be as I did with you. He cannot simply breathe, he must meditate. He won't control his fire until he controls himself."

"That's not all I'm worried about," Zuko sighed. "This Jet is too interested in him. Him and his little band. I think he recruits misfits. Naive ones. Catching Alfred alone would be too good for a guy like him to pass up."

"Alfred is…emotional, as I said," Iroh said slowly. "Impulsive. But he is not young-minded. I would never accuse someone like Alfred of naivety."

Zuko frowned. "What do you mean, someone like Alfred?"

"Simply that you should give him more credit," Iroh said soothingly. "He could not live so long by being the idiot he often pretends to be."

Alfred's brief bathroom trip and subsequent wandering found him sitting back against a wooden post on the other side of the ferry and staring moodily out towards the horizon.

It had been frankly unheroic to snap at Zuko like that. He knew that. He just—he just didn't get why they thought he was such a liability. To the point where he couldn't be trusted in a public restroom? Really?

And then out of nowhere there was just this FLASH of weird anger and suddenly he was strangling on his own temper. Like c'mon, he was America! How was he supposed to stay the happy-go-lucky improvising guy if he was going to suddenly blow his top over the smallest thing?

Good Lord if nothing else, he was an adult Nation. He'd learned centuries ago to check himself before wrecking himself.

His throat and chest still felt hot in the aftermath of that one sudden flash of irritation. Although—part of that might've been acid reflux from the 'food' he'd had earlier. He couldn't be sure.

From the front of the deck Alfred could see that Peter Pan kid with the bent swords from earlier, sans Lost Boys. The kid saw him too and smiled at him in a way that Alfred recognized all too well.

This one had a manipulative streak.

'Joke's on you, I hardly know what you're saying!' Alfred wanted to laugh at that, but the kid sat down riiight next to him and Alfred wasn't sure he wouldn't still blow literal smoke. It was a reaction he enjoyed pulling out of Zuko. Peter Pan probably wouldn't find it so amusing.

"Hey, there…"

Alfred was proud of himself for recognizing the greeting. For hardly making any effort at all, his Nation-ness was clearly trying its damndest to catch the essentials for him. It was honestly kinda cool to see the truth in that difficult-to-prove Nation language ability myth that often got thrown around at meetings.

Jet was still talking. Alfred simply stared, listening for anything else he might've picked up without trying.

"…hammer…interest…" Peter Pan's rough voice was low with an undercurrent of intent, like he was being kind enough to let Alfred in on his sales pitch. A tactic that Alfred knew well. He'd sold a vacuum to someone once that way. It was also useful for sting operations.

Alfred let his head fall back into the post and roll slightly away from the kid. Damn it, that was smoke in his throat for sure. It was coming up his nose and making it tickle.

"Wronged...you think…fighter?"

Oh, damn it the sneeze was coming now—!

Alfred stood up quickly, looked away, and sneezed violently into his arm. The kid scrambled to his feet as well. Confused, but clearly not alarmed. He had no idea. Alfred coughed a bit then, and mustered up all the Common Language scraps he could to diffuse this further. "Smokers make me sick."

Still out here menacing society, despite the world's best efforts. New year, new meds. Amiright?

Thanks for reading. Please review if you've got the time!

Later dudes. ^J^