avocado_love | Another Brother: Chapter 18

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Another Brother: Chapter 18

Wednesday, July 22nd, 2009 10:08 am

It’s been a full few months, and I understand that some people were upset about the wait. It took too long, and for that I apologize. I didn’t intend for it to happen, either. But I didn’t lose interest in the story. It’s not being dropped or anything silly like that – lots and lots of crazy real life stuff and other projects I've neglected in favor of this story just got in the way. And a big thank you to DustyJack for the beta!

So THAT being said… Wow! What a coincidence! Today is the ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY of the fic! Thank you VERY MUCH to everyone who has stuck with me this far… and what better to celebrate a year, but with an Agni Kai?

I can’t think of one! :D So here it is!

OoOoOoO

“Prince Zuko, have you forgotten what happened last time you dueled a master?”
“I will never forget.”

Iroh and Zuko – The Southern Air Temple

OoOoOoO

In the end, it was impossible to break apart Aang’s restraints through freezing and accelerated rust. The locks were too well made, the metal too refined. It was only by accident – an annoyed flick of her fingers an hour or two into her toil, that Katara got the idea of using her carefully gathered droplets of water as a cutting tool.

It was hard work and she didn’t dare try the technique too close to Aang’s bare skin. The scant half ounce or so of water she had managed to collect from condensation worked like a small knife or a file. It was slow; every cut at first was shallow, a bare scratch across hardened metal. She also had trouble hitting the same place twice.

Hours of trying to airbend the heavy chains off and dragging them around the cell had left Aang exhausted. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, no matter how many times Katara snapped at him to stay still. Eventually, she let him sleep… he needed it, and as the dull night wore on she was having trouble keeping her head from bobbing. Once or twice she jerked back into alertness with her bending water puddled by her knee.

But as she practiced, she grew better. The shallow scores in the metal grew deeper and deeper all the time, until finally with a sharp snap and a clink of metal the first of Aang’s heavy chains was severed in two.

Katara’s gasp of delight woke the young monk. He blinked sleepily and rubbed at his head. Then he realized he could move that arm more freely. “Katara?” he asked, then caught sight of the broken chain. “Oh wow, you did it!”

“Shh! Not so loud!” She threw a cautious look at the door, but they’d had no more visitors since Commander Zhao. “Here, toss me the length of your other chain and I’ll start working on that.”

“Why? Just cut the shackles, it’ll be quicker.” He held out his wrists, expectantly, but she drew back, biting her lip.

“I could cut you like that.” She couldn’t take it if anything else went wrong, if someone else got hurt over her foolishness. “I’ll just cut the big ones off. The main links are far enough away from your skin.”

He just smiled. “You won’t hurt me, Katara. You’re—“

“I said no, Aang.” She fixed him with a hard glare until he looked away and sighed.

“Well, I can’t exactly do a lot of airbending like this. Maybe the guards will have keys.”

It took her another half hour to cut the rest of the main chains.

He stood, wobbling for a moment as he adjusted again to the weight of his own body. He waived off Katara’s concern, and after a few moments and a couple of deep breaths, said, “You have got to show me that trick later.” And he smiled at her sigh.

“I just made it up tonight…” Although she blushed at his praise.

After that, it was little effort to cut through the bars of their holding cell. Katara cut and Aang rushed in, quick as thought even restricted by the shackles, to catch the bars before they could hit the ground and clatter. Then they squeezed through the gap.

They paused before opening the door, catching each other’s eyes. Aang twisted his hands rapidly, the chain on his wrist taunt. The air pressure seemed to change in the room, pressing against their eardrums, and a spherical ball of swirling blue wind coalesced in his hand. He looked up from it, and with an answering nod, she took the handle.

Two guards were standing there to either side chatting amiably. Katara saw for one frozen moment their shock and surprise before Aang released his hold on the bended ball of energy, unleashing gale-force blast of air. The two men hit the far wall and slumped down like limp rag-dolls, unconscious.

Katara and Aang leapt out into the hallway, elements ready to face… nothing.

The corridor was empty.

They looked at each other, shrugged, and without a word started down the metal hallway.

They didn’t know where they were going -- it wasn’t like there weren’t any helpful signs on any of the ship’s bulkheads or the doors – but by the third empty hallway, Katara’s head was ringing with the strangeness of their escape. Where were all the guards? She took the corridor to the right and Aang fell into step behind her, awkward and short-stepped because of his restraints.

“Katara!” he gasped, “Wait!”

She did, paused to let him catch up, she peaked around a corner. The corridor beyond was deserted. “What’s wrong?”

Aang drew in beside her, holding the short length of chain that stretched between his wrists so it wouldn’t jangle. “We can’t leave yet. I still have to get my glider.” He looked up at her, his grey eyes large and pleading. “It’s the only thing I have left from the monks, and I don’t want to lose that too.”

Katara sighed, but she knew how important the glider was to him. Unconsciously, her hand stilled over the blue stone of her necklace. “Okay,” she said. “They have to have some sort of supply room or something…”

They set out again, jogging down one stark, empty corridor after another. Steel riveted doors stood out on either side of the halls, and most of them were unlocked. But those only led into further corridors, short sets of stairs up or down to the next level, or utility closets. One door opened to reveal a grey bay stuffed with a series of pipes, some dripping water. Katara pulled the liquid to her with a smooth reeling motion of her hands and collected it into a globe the size of her head.

Even chained, Aang he was quick on his feet in a sprint and could open and look into three rooms for every one of hers. He stood in front of a large, likely door now. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” he said, pushing it open with a flourish.

Someone had set up a flimsily card table directly inside, and no less than four beefy Fire Nation soldiers sat around it. The biggest one had already leapt from his seat, throwing down his cards and declaring, “Ha! Full dragon clutch beats two pair!” Then he paused, turning to stare at the open door.

“Heh.” Aang gave a shy wiggle of his fingers. “Wrong door.”

He slammed it shut, but the soldiers were already scrambling to their feet.

OoOoOoO

The storm had been gathering strength through the day. Now the bruise-colored clouds had finally broken wide open and the two Water Tribe boys and Prince Iroh stepped into pelting rain. The wind was howling like a thing alive, driving the rain sideways one second and straight the next – pelted down with such force that the droplets felt as if they were being bended from above.

Both boys paused at the threshold under the eves to stare outside. Through the gray, soaked air they could see two orderly lines of red uniformed soldiers standing the parameter of the deck, leaving the middle wide and open like an arena. It seemed the entire compliment of the ship had braved the storm to witness the Agni Kai.

Sokka shot his brother a look, both eyebrows raised in silent question. Are you sure about this? But Zuko’s jaw only tightened; he nodded, resolute. He stepped forward out into the rain and the arena.

A shift in the wind seemed to clear the rainy air for a moment, almost as if a curtain was opening.

And standing not thirty feet away, with a calculated smile on his face, was Commander Zhao. He was unexpectedly shirtless, save for a loose wrap around his shoulder the color of dried blood. He looked predatory; eager in his stance with arms and shoulders thick ropy bundles of muscle.

Zuko hesitated, his step faltering, and someone put a bracing hand to his shoulder. Prince Iroh. Zuko recoiled from the touch, but the message behind it was clear. He straightened his shoulders and stepped forward -- stiff and awkward and trying to look like he knew what he was doing.

Zhao yelled something from his side of the arena – Zuko could not hear the words over the driving rain and the wind, but rightly guessed it was some sort of insult.

A man stationed off to the side struck a mallet-shaped beater to a gong once again. The crash of trembled the pooled water on the deck. It seemed to be a signal, and with a final smirk Commander Zhao turned his back on the boy and knelt down, one fist flat against the steel deck.

Zuko just stood, his own fists half-raised, already soaked through with wet hair dripping in his eyes, and unsure what to do next. He heard a jeer from the right coming from the watching soldiers, although half-blinded by the rain he couldn’t tell exactly from where. All the amber-eyed, pale soldiers tended to look the same to him anyway. He could not even identify Sokka, who was still dressed like one of them, after all.

And still Zhao knelt. What was he waiting for? Was it a trick? Some kind of ruse? Zuko took a half step forward. Now, in the stillness before the duel, with the knowledge of what he must do, he was suddenly aware of the way his own muscles were burning from exhaustion; the combination of staying up the night perfecting his fire-whip and the grueling fight with the Fire Nation solider earlier this morning. He was aware, too, of the sound of his own ragged breath in his ears and the searing reminder down his wind-pipe of being half choked earlier.

For the first time, Zuko felt doubt swell into his mind, quenching the fires of anger which had sustained him this far. He and Katara had practiced for years, but only had come up with a few moves. Would it be enough? It was pouring now. A half inch coat of standing water layered the deck; much more was coming down than could be diverted away, and the air was thick with fog and moist. How anyone was supposed to bend fire in conditions like this?

He could turn now. He knew Iroh would be waiting safely to the side, probably under some shelter. Zuko knew he could still accept his offer and Sokka and Katara would be safe. Maybe he could find a way to free Aang on his own – No, no… Iroh would take him back to the Fire Nation. He would never go back.

He would die first.

The gong struck again – a final, third time, and Commander Zhao rose, the coverlet wrapping his shoulders fluttering away impressively in the wind. Zuko swallowed hard, but held steady. Across the deck, gold eyes met amber.

Commander Zhao was first to strike.

He stepped forward, unleashing a jet of fire which was like an explosion on its own. Zuko was right; the rain did help diminish the flame, but there was plenty of it to spare. Massive, hot, and strangely wild at the edges, it seemed to fill the entire area between them. Zuko couldn’t have avoided it if he wanted too.

So he stood his ground, instead.

Taking a deep steady breath, he swung his arms out to the side to divert Zhao’s fire. He then twisted his hands, forcing the flames around, behind and forward again – now his own – back towards Zhao in a high, crashing wave that hissed and steamed in the rain-soaked air.

The commander backed a step in surprise, but his own defending move was something Zuko had never seen before; strong and blocky with fists extended from his middle. The fire rolled off and around Zhao’s shoulders into nothingness.

Then Zhao was on the offensive again, this time kicking and punching in bright flashes, sending thin powerful bolts like arrows which Zuko could only knock away with quickly bursts of his own flame. There was a second’s lull as Zhao regathered his strength, and Zuko took it, running forward to meet the man head on. His own flames collapsed into a thin stream which he sent out, snapping, a deadly whip of fire.

But the rain was pouring down, and the water pierced the ribbon, and it was little effort for Zhao to knock it away. One spin and a powerful kick and Zhao shot out a sharp blade of fire, aimed right for Zuko’s chest.

Zuko sucked in a deep breath and brought his hands up, bringing with it a wall of flames. The thick firewall saved his life, but seemed almost to reach in and pull all the breath from his lungs. The force from Zhao’s next blast knocked the boy flat back onto the wet deck.

Zhao closed the distance at a quick sprint. He was grinning, his eyes alight with the anticipation of the kill.

Zuko rolled onto his feet, only quick reflexes allowing him to duck under a flaming fist. He saw an opening and took it; an awkward duck-footed step and he had slipped behind Zhao, palm directly on the center of his spine. He was still winded from his last effort, gasping for air – all breath control gone – but Aang’s gentle instructions from their morning practice sessions floated back into his mind. When the Commander roared in surprise and twisted to shoot a killing blast to the right, Zuko stepped with him, keeping himself safely behind.

“Coward!” Zhao cried, now turning to the left, shooting another blast which hit nothing. “Face your death like a man!”

The boy shifted again, putting an ankle right in front of Zhao’s next step. Their legs fouled, and the Commander lost his balance. He pin-wheeled his arms in an effort to stay upright, but it was no use. He fell to the deck with a heavy thud.

Zuko should have struck. The commander was down. He raced forward, pulling back his arm – their eyes met and Zuko saw the naked fear in them.

He hesitated.

Zhao whipped his legs up, scissoring them in a blast of fire that was hot enough to evaporate all the rain within three feet to a rush of steam. Zuko ducked ungracefully away, and the commander leapt up to his feet.

He struck out at Zuko with unfancy palm strikes – simple, direct and powerful blasts which pounded at the boy and his thin fire-wall, driving him back step by step.

Zuko sucked in a breath and tried to blow it out again as flame. It wasn’t enough. It was all he could do to keep a shield of flame up to take the strikes, keep from hitting burned. It was thin in too many places. Zhao’s flame licked eagerly at his outstretched hands—

With a yell, the Commander stepped forward with both fists outstretched in a forceful blast. Zuko tried to reach out to divert it, but his breath control was gone, his balance shaky. He managed to turn but the concussion hit him like a battering ram. He was knocked right onto his back, fallen for the final time.

OoOoOoO

Aang staggered and would have tripped over his own ankle-chain had Katara not pulled him back up by an elbow. Behind them, the card playing soldiers were in hot pursuit – although they had learned to keep a prudent distance, wary of more thrown barbs of ice from Katara.

But now she was reduced to only a palmful of water, and there was no doubt they were racing for their lives.

They hit a staircase and ran up -- Aang clumsily bending a blast of air behind them to lighten their feet. The next level was more nicely furnished than anything they had seen before, with red rugs and cheery looking torches burning upon the walls. The kids didn’t pause to look, just blew past, cutting right and then left – only to stop short.

“Dead end!” Katara yelled. She skidded to a halt, but Aang didn’t see her in time, crashing headlong into her and falling them both. They got up in a moment, but the soilders had rounded the last bend and slowed.

They were trapped.

The solider in the front grinned under his sweaty beard. “There ain’t no where else to go, kids. Give it up and maybe we’ll put you back in your cells all nice like.”

Katara stepped forward, instinctively putting herself between her restrained friend and the soldiers. The water in her hand flowed to her fingers and crystallized into ice, but it was little and pathetic and they all knew it. “You’ll have to get through me first.”

“Aw, don’t be like that little girl,” another solider leered, “What you gonna do? Splash us?”

All four of the men chuckled at that. The one in the front had a wide grin on his face. He pulled back his hand as if to strike, flames already licking at his knuckles. “Have it your way. I’m going to enjoy this, water bitch.”

At that same moment, Aang touched Katara’s arm. His eyes were half lidded, as if he were concentrating very hard on something inward. “Katara,” he whispered, “get ready to run.”

“Fire feels more like a heartbeat. It’s not a friend. You can’t turn your back on it, but if you respect it, it will keep you warm when you’re cold, and help defend you against your enemies. The bender needs fire to live, just as the fire needs the bender.”

Zuko’s words flashed through Aang’s mind, quick as thought. Peering past Katara, he ignored the taunting soldiers and focused instead on the flickering torches on either side of the hallway. And when he took a deep breath – in through his nose and exhaling out his mouth – the torches seemed to brighten and Aang felt a glimmer of something hot inside of him.

“Katara, get ready to run.”

The solider in front of them had already pulled his fist for a quick, deadly strike, but Aang was faster. He swept his arms out as if casting an invisible line. The nearest torch over the soldier’s heads flared, exploding outward into the corridor with a flash. It was all brightness and little heat, but the distraction was enough. The men jumped back, and the firebender’s own blast went wide as the others fell into him.

Aang pushed Katara forward and they slipped past the jumped men. They sprinted down the corridor, turning the corner just in time to avoid blast of fire aimed at their backs.

Turning right led to another dead end, but there was a door off to the side – more decorated than most of the others in threaded gold, and set slightly open. They rushed in, slamming the door behind them and throwing the lock . With a press of her hands, Katara used the last of her water to freeze the seam of the door, just in case.

The soldiers were on it immediately. She could hear them banging and cursing for her to let them in, although Katara’s unnaturally strong ice was holding for now. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue at the door.

The room they found themselves in was… strange. At least, not at all what Katara expected to find in a Fire Nation ship. A double set of fire places crackled merrily from each side. The walls were decorated with richly colored hangings, scattering of stringed instruments, a flute and what looked to be a picture of a lotus flower. The room smelled of old spices, faintly familiar, although she couldn’t place it.

Aang let out a gasp beside her. “My air glider!” It lay propped against one wall and Aang stumbled over to it, hugging it against his chest. Then he pulled back, looking ruefully at his wrists. “I can’t fly with these,” he said, clinking the manacles ruefully.

“Well, there has to be a key around here somewhere.” She went to a nearby desk and pulled at a one of the drawers, but it was locked. “What is this place?”

“It’s Iroh’s room.”

Katara looked up sharply at Aang, and he sort of gave a shrug before turning to a set of double doors on the other side of the room. “Well, he was in here last time I was on the ship.”

A chill went up Katara’s spine. She glanced again to the door. The soldiers had stopped pounding upon it, but there was an ominous red glow around the handle and she could see rivets of water melting down the door. Her ice wasn’t going to last for long. “Aang, we need to get out of here.” Abandoning the desk, she looked around for something – anything to help. A vase of flowers with water in it. Anything.

“Katara, come look!”

Aang’s panicked voice came from beyond the double doors. It led to a high balcony of some sort and at first she couldn’t see what was going on. She hadn’t even known it was storming outside the ship, but the rain was coming down in sheets so thick she could hardly tell what he was pointing at. Prince Iroh’s room and the balcony stood high over the foredeck of the ship, and she caught at first two neat rows of armed men; nearly a ship’s compliment worth. So that’s where they had gone! So why—

A double flare of fire caught her attention. Two figures – firebenders – were fighting in between the rows. Both were dark haired, but the thinner of the two was dressed in familiar Water Tribe blue.

No…

“ZUKO!” she yelled, but the wind carried away her voice and not a face turned to her. She could hardly hear Aang, he had to grip her arm to get her attention.

“We have to get down there. You have to cut these.” He held up his chained wrists.

Katara shook her head, backing a step. “No. I can’t. I—“

She was interrupted by loud explosion from back inside the room. The metal door lay half open, red with heat and smoking against the carpet. The explosion hadn’t cleared the way for the soldiers completely, but it would only take one more.

And out on the deck, the figure of Zuko fell.

Aang’s grey eyes caught hers. “You can do this, Katara. You’re a great waterbender and I trust you.” She could only see calm certainty in his gaze. He had faith in her.

“O-okay,” she said. Her voice just shook a little. “Hold out your arms. I’m going to try to make this fast.”

Water droplets rose from the soaked deck, gathering under her fingertips. She brought it down in a slicing motion harder than she had before. It hit just where she had aimed it, right at the joint connecting the two pieces between his wrists. And with another snap the chains broke apart, falling into two pieces. She had sliced it in just one hit.

Aang rubbed at his freed wrists and grinned. “I bet they don’t teach that sort of move in the waterbending scroll.”

Katara grinned and another strike of the water and Aang’s boots were freed as well.

There was a final explosion from inside the room – so loud it rattled Katara’s teeth. Aang snapped the airglider open, she gripped him around the waist and the wild-storm winds took them up at last.

OoOoOoO

Zuko rolled to the right, feeling searing heat and a hiss of water and steam pass him, right where his head had been a second before. He tried to get up, but Zhao was rushing in fast. For a second all Zuko could see was the man’s leering face, the bright flash of his teeth and eager fire in his hands.

Panic seized him. His legs jerked as if on their own accord, he scuttled backwards, nearly crab-walking to avoid another quick blast.

He bumped into something hard – a bucket left from washing the deck, half filled with rainwater.

And Zhao was running at him, fist sheathed in fire. Zuko didn’t think. His hands, holding the metal bucket now, flashed into heat and he threw the boiled water right at Zhao’s naked chest.

The commander reeled back with a yell of equal parts surprise and pain, and Zuko kicked him in the thigh hard enough to bring him down. Zhao fell, screaming.

Zuko struggled to his feet, dazed, lightheaded from lack of oxygen, unsure if it was over. But Zhao was half curled and writhing in agony upon the wet deck, paying him no attention. He would not be getting back up.

It was over. Zuko had won.

And Zuko looked out across the foredeck, noting the spectators again for the first time in what seemed to be hours. The rushing wind brought their whispers.

“Never seen moves like that…”

“They say he’s the lost Prince Zuko...”

“Did he just bend that water?”

“Not possible…”

For a moment, just a brief moment in time, Zuko stood straight and tall with adrenaline signing in his veins, the victor of an Agni Kai, and he knew that he had won the soldiers respect. They would have followed his every order… He could have asked for them to bow to him, and they would have done it.

It was a heady, dangerous thought. But even as he pushed it away in the next moment, some of the giddiness remained.

The gong struck again, signaling the end of the Agni Kai.

Zuko caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his good eye. He half turned, but he was too slow. Commander Zhao was already up, even hunched in his injury, his face in a snarl with hot fire erupting from between his knuckles.

And in the next instant the standing water under Zhao’s feet pooled and solidified into ice. The Commander’s right foot slipped, the shot went wide, and he was down again.

Zuko stepped forward, but before he could make the final, killing blow he felt a hand close over his shoulder. A high voice said, “No! Zuko don’t! He’s not worth it.”

“Katara?” He spun around. She was there, right there – she had been the one, of course, to freeze the water. “How?” he asked, but the answer didn’t come because she was pulling him into a tight hug. Distantly, he noticed the red uniformed soldiers rushing forward to subdue the still half wild, struggling commander, but that didn’t matter. Katara was there, and he needed her to bring him back to reality more than he liked to admit. Finally, Zuko pulled back, still gripping her shoulders tightly. He must have been more light-headed, more exhausted than he thought because he could only ask, “You’re here? You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” she replied, and he read the truth of it in her eyes. “Aang and I broke out. What’s going on? Why were you fighting, and—” She turned out of his grip, looking back to Sokka who was calling their names and running up to meet them. “Sokka, why are you dressed like that? What’s happened?”

Sokka managed to skid to a stop, a wide grin on his face. “All part of my brilliant plan for rescue. It even almost worked.” And he punched Zuko playfully on the shoulder in congratulations, perhaps a touch too hard, for he had seen how close of a duel it had been.

“Prince Zuko.”

Iroh stood before them now. He spared but a glance for Katara and Aang, and the lemur in his arms let out sound that was half curious chirp, half a pleased purr. Its white and brown fur stuck out at odd angles, almost as if Iroh had been not watching the way he had pet it during the duel. Around them, the men seemed to notice the change in mood and had come to attention, drawing their weapons.

Seeing this, Zuko stepped forward, but Sokka and Katara were there first, blocking him from the aged Prince. Katara in particular had a savage look on her normally lovely face, and the drops of rain splattering around them trembled ominously

“We had a deal,” Sokka said. “He wins and you let us go.”

“The Avatar and this young lady were purchased from the pirates by myself, not Commander Zhao,” said Iroh. But he paused, tilting his head to the driving rain, and when he looked back it was to meet Zuko’s gaze. “You fought furiously and won with honor, nephew. There is no higher compliment for a firebender.”

Zuko growled, “I did it to save Aang and Katara.” He then added, almost sullenly, “And I’m not your nephew.”

But Iroh didn’t seem concerned by this. He raised a hand and at the command the surrounding soldiers backed away. “My ship cannot leave dock until the storm has passed. You will have that much of a head start.”

A low groan sounded in the air, and the Fire Nation soldiers only had a moment to scatter before Appa landed with a rush of wet-fur scented wind. Aang tucked his bison-whistle back in his shirt with a look of satisfaction. “Hey buddy!” he called, and one leap later he was on top of Appa’s head, scratching at his ears.

Zuko watched Iroh suspiciously through narrowed eyes, but when the Prince didn’t make a move to call back his order he nodded once and turned, walking back to Appa without a parting word. Sokka sent a lingering glare at Iroh, but followed.

Only Katara hung back, just for a moment. She was remembering how Iroh had haggled the pirate captain for her, when he could have just as easily left with Aang. There had been so much to think about afterwards – so much doubt and worry and work trying to get out of that cell – But she realized for the first time she could have been in real trouble if he left her there, with those men. “You are Zuko’s uncle, aren’t you?” she asked, at last.

He gave a nod. “I am.”

She bit her lip. There were so many things she wanted to ask, but this wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place. But maybe, she thought, maybe if he is Zuko’s uncle there is good in him, too. She only said, “Thank you… you know, for saving me from the pirates.” And with a jerky half embarrassed bow she turned and ran for Appa, catching Sokka’s outstretched hand and swinging aboard.

And they were off.

OoOoOoO

It took some time for everyone to catch up on one another. The rain was finally starting to slacken and the sky darkening into evening by the time Katara and Aang had finished telling of their escape and Zuko and Sokka of their abortive rescue.

“And it was all because I wanted that stupid waterbending scroll.” Katara slumped in her corner of Appa’s saddle, looking miserable “The worst part of it is, I didn’t even get it.”

“The worst part!!” Sokka squawked, but Zuko cut him off.

“What’s wrong with you? You can’t just go around stealing things. Do you know how worried we were?”

“Yeah,” Sokka added. “And I had to fight a guy like this big to even get that stupid uniform.” He raised his hand way above his head, indicating a monster of a man roughly ten feet tall. “And he had a knife!” Which she already knew because she had been the one to stitch up the slash in his arm, but he felt it bared repeating again.

Katara still winced and looked down. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, you guys. Stealing is bad, and I’ll never do it again.”

“You’d better not.” Zuko growled.

“What about our chores?” Sokka added, ever hopeful. “With my bad arm and Zuko so tired from Agni Kai-ing, I don’t think we can do everything all by ourselves…”

She started to huff, but she caught the mischievous glint in her brother’s eyes and Sokka turned to rummage through his pack. And when he brought out the waterbending scroll her eyes widened to an almost comical size. For a second it looked as if Sokka was going to torture her with it for just a moment longer, maybe make her say they were the best brothers ever, or make her promise cook his favorite meal.

But a strange look came over his face. He hunched over with a sharp, racking cough, and in a second the scroll was snatched from his hands and in Katara’s arms, cuddled to her chest. “Oh! You got it! You got it! Thank you! Are—are you okay?”

“Me? Never better,” Sokka said, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve.

OoOoOoO

From the perspective of an outsider, Prince Iroh was the very picture of patience. He sat on a low bench outside the officer’s quarters; calm of breath, fingers casually flipping a lotus tile over and over in the palm of his hand. The white and brown lemur, however, was able to sense his friend’s true mood, and reflected it more accurately. Momo was jumpy, anxious. His large ears twitched and swiveled this way and that at every noise.

After a long length of time there was a sound from the room beyond the bulkhead. A latch was jerked back, the door opened and a gruff man in a red smock and a physician’s insignia stepped out.

Iroh stood up, but it was the physician who gave a deep bow.

“He is in pain and there will be some scarring, but his firebending will not be hindered.”

Some scarring. The lines on Iroh’s face deepened as he thought of other scars. Commander Zhao should consider himself lucky he would be able to cover his scars with a shirt. “Thank you,” Iroh said. “May I speak with him?” Somehow, it was not a request.

The doctor nodded and stepped aside, allowing the Prince to pass. Iroh did, but not before pausing to reach inside his tunic to withdraw a single sealed scroll. “If you would be so kind, please arrange a message-hawk for delivery. These orders must reach Colonel Shinu without haste.”

“Yes sir.” With another bow and one last glance back over his shoulder at his patient, the man walked away, leaving Iroh to shut the door behind him.

Zhao lay on his back upon the single cot. Iroh stepped to the side of it, staring down at him and waiting for the man’s half-drugged, amber gaze to focus on his face.

“Commander Zhao,” Iroh’s voice had a touch of formality he had not used with the doctor. “You have lost your Agni Kai, and your own terms have forced me to release the prisoners. You have disgraced yourself and your rank.”

The man was clearly under some sort of sedation, his face slack yet strangely wild at the same time. He gave a weak half snarl. “What will you do now, Iroh?… The men know… The dead Prince travels with the Avatar… You can’t possibly avoid the scandal.”

“Perhaps,” Iroh allowed. “But I was not the one who lost to a half-trained boy today. The capture of the Avatar and Prince Zuko are no longer your concern. You and your men will be assigned other, less strenuous missions while you are recovering.” He paused, perhaps savoring the moment. “It may give you a chance to reflect on your true loyalties… and to work on your firebending basics.”

With that, Iroh turned and strode out of the room. The door shut on Commander Zhao’s scream of rage.

OoOoOoO

Next up: With Sokka and Katara fallen ill, what are Aang and Zuko to do?

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