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Chapter Text

Above them, the sky glimmers with stars and the night breeze drifts pleasantly as birdsong echoes through the open air. It’s deceptively calm and it makes Zuko’s skin itch with a burning anxiety that’s flirting with anger, because how can the world not know what’s about to happen?

How can Sozin’s Comet be so near, yet the stars shine so peacefully?

How can the birds and the breeze be so deceptively soothing?

How can Sokka look so good under the shining moonlight, his blue eyes shining brighter despite it seeming impossible – maybe his moon-girlfriend is loving him in whatever way she can.

It’s that last one that’s got Zuko so tangled up in hypotheticals and a mess of emotions he’s not sure how to name. Ever since they got back from Boiling Rock, he’s noticed that he looks to Sokka first, and listens to him more than anyone else, and he’s desperate to touch him anytime he can.

When Sokka’s hair slips out of its wolf tail, Zuko absently takes the time to slide his fingers through the silky texture to nudge it back to where it belongs. When he complains about shoulder aches after sparring, Zuko warms his hands to soothe the pain. When Sokka makes the worst puns in the world and Zuko laughs until his stomach hurts, he soaks up the friendly drape of Sokka’s arm on his shoulder.

It builds in tiny increments between Boiling Rock and this moment, and right now, Zuko feels like he’s barely staying afloat.

Too much more of this and he thinks he might drown.

He’s beginning to think it’s a good thing they have to face Ozai. If he spends another week with Sokka like this, Zuko’s not sure he’ll know how to come up for air.

Tonight’s already starting to push the boundaries. They’d snuck away to lie on the sandy shores, staring up at the stars. Sokka’s been hoping for another meteor shower, for extremely selfish reasons that Zuko can’t get on board with.

“You already have one space sword. Don’t get greedy.”

“Says the guy who has two swords. You just don’t want me to be as powerfully swordy as you are.”

“Yeah, Sokka. That’s definitely it.”

Zuko’s not known for his wisdom, but even he knows that the voice inside his head whispering for him to let his fingers stray to the left and hook his pinky with Sokka’s is very stupid.

It doesn’t matter that it seems like the best idea in the world as they lie under these stars, he really can’t imagine it’ll go over very well. Or, worse – it goes extremely well and then they have a war to face and Zuko will have to face the possibilities of the terrible possibilities that the future might bring.

So he doesn’t move his fingers to the side, but he does shift enough that their shoulders are nearly touching and he can let some of his warmth spill over to keep Sokka comfortable in the brisk night.

It’s been silent for a while now, to the point that Zuko’s about to start complaining about the sand just to fill the void, but Sokka speaks before he can, subdued and worried:

“What do you think will happen next?”

Sokka has no idea how loaded a question that is, because Zuko’s thoughts have drifted past the upcoming fight with the Fire Nation, reaching into true stupidity as he starts to think about what happens after that.

He’s thinking about a world where Ozai is gone (dead, if he’s lucky, but Zuko’s never been that lucky) and his Uncle takes the throne and Zuko can be gloriously free to live wherever he wants, however he wants, with whoever he wants.

At this moment, ‘who’ happens to be right beside him.

“What are you worried about?” Zuko asks, not wanting to fill in the blanks of what Sokka’s asking – namely because he knows it will be too revealing, and that’s something he’s trying to avoid.

Barely a second later, Sokka shifts onto his elbow to look down at Zuko, which makes his heart pound faster in his chest as he wills himself to lie there and not react. It would be so easy to yank Sokka closer by the front of his shirt and tumble them into the sand for endless, desperate kisses.

That’s the ‘next’ that Zuko wants.

It’s the one he can’t have for so many reasons, starting with Suki helping with the fire back at camp and ending with Zuko’s complicated future (with a thousand reasons in between).

Reasons why like that are why Zuko is not an optimist. He’s never met a glass he hasn’t immediately pegged as half-empty. He doesn’t trade in hope like Uncle does.

Under the moon, though, there’s a look in Sokka’s eyes that makes Zuko think, for a horrifyingly amazing second, that Sokka wants the same thing as he does. It’s the way his eyes soften as they traverse Zuko’s body. It’s how his fingers slide towards Zuko and then pull back. It’s the way he keeps darting considering (and shifty) looks over his shoulder towards camp.

Zuko’s too much of a coward to ask – but what about Suki? because he’s not sure the answer will go well for him.

Finally, Sokka collapses on his front, chin on his palms, staring up at Zuko. “I don’t know. I don’t know what the world looks like if we’re not at war, but we can’t keep going like this forever. What happens to us, though? We’re just kids. We have our lives ahead of us. What are we gonna do?”

Wouldn’t it be incredible to be able to say: Anything we want, Sokka, you and I.

Zuko can’t, though. Reality is too grim.

What he can promise is this: “Whatever it is, we’ll do it together. Okay?”

For good measure, he extends his hand to shake on it. He might be spending most of his days and nights fighting back against his quest for honor, but he can’t escape the beliefs he holds truest and that includes a handshake to seal a promise.

(Why not a kiss? This could be a kiss)

His traitorous brain needs to stop screaming at him.

“Together,” Sokka agrees, nearly crushing Zuko’s hand as he shakes it. There’s something in his eyes that Zuko would call desperation, but he thinks he’s projecting. Their hands are still clasped together – Zuko on his back, Sokka on his front – and Zuko is pretty sure that Sokka’s the one who brushes his thumb along the inside of his wrist.

Zuko lets out a soft gasp, but hides it with a pleased noise of confirmation. There’s something electric about that touch, something he doesn’t understand. It’s not pain, but it feels like the opposite of his scar – something that feels hot and too tight against his skin, something that feels wrong, but in a way he can’t begin to solve.

The only truth he knows is this – he’s made a promise to Sokka and he’s not going to break it. No matter what.

When he wakes, with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, something has changed.

Zuko shifts slightly, wincing as he feels coarse sand at the edges of his clothes. He tries to sit up, but he can’t, his left arm a dead weight because Sokka’s curled up on top of it, snoring peacefully like he hasn’t noticed Zuko moving at all.

Flushed, Zuko ignores the thrilling spike of his heart rate, examining himself for the strange new sensation.

He finds it quickly.

There, on the inner flesh of his forearm, is what looks like a tattoo. He says looks like, because it changes. Every minute that passes, the tattoo shifts and counts down one more number.

“Sokka,” Zuko rasps, reaching down to shake him awake. “Sokka!”

“Please go die in a fire,” Sokka says sweetly, curling a little harder into Zuko’s body.

Zuko’s crush is currently the last thing on his mind as he reaches down to grab hold of Sokka’s arm, eyes widening when he discovers a matching tattoo. He warms his fingers – not enough to hurt, but not enough to ignore – and squeezes Sokka’s bicep gently.

“Why’re you such a piece of sabretooth lion dung?” Sokka whines as he opens his eyes, squinting up at Zuko without getting up. He doesn’t move, either, letting Zuko hold onto his arm. “If you leave scars on me, Katara’s gonna kill you,” he says mildly, which isn’t actually a threat these days.

If he’d said that two weeks ago, it might have been.

“Sokka, look.”

Sokka is barely doing any looking given the way his eyes are lazily half-shut, but when he sees what Zuko’s fingers are framing, his eyes go wide.

“What the…?” Sokka pulls away, leaving Zuko regrettably cold, and starts rubbing his fingers over the marks.

Zuko does the same, noticing that it’s not raised. It’s not even like a tattoo. This is a part of him, even if that absolutely doesn’t make sense. The numbers are the same as Sokka’s, but he doesn’t understand the significance of them. Every time a minute passes, the numbers change.

“We’re dreaming. Right?”

“How would we share dreams, Sokka?” Zuko asks tiredly.

The look Sokka gives him makes Zuko flush. It’s intense and focused, but then he slides his blue eyes away and as quickly as Zuko had felt the warmth on his gaze, it’s gone. “This doesn’t make any scientific sense,” Sokka complains, fumbling to his feet. “Katara! Suki!”

“What are you doing?” Zuko hisses.

“What if they have it, too?”

There’s no stopping a Sokka that’s already in motion. Zuko’s already resigned himself to that fact and watches him bound off towards the others while he spends a few moments rubbing the mark on his forearm, a rising dread in his stomach with every passing second.

By the time he arrives, the camp is in full swing. By the time he arrives, it seems that Sokka’s already more than halfway through a hasty explanation.

For all that Zuko runs hot, Sokka seems to move fast – whether it’s his brain, the way he learns or the way he acts.

“They don’t have it,” is how Sokka greets him, when Zuko finally arrives.

Katara is at his side, reaching out hesitantly. “Does it hurt?” she asks, when Zuko allows her touch with a nod. He watches the way she tips his forearm to the side and then back, waiting for the same electric shock he’d felt when Sokka touched him.

It never comes.

He doesn’t want to spend too much time thinking about the details of why, even as his heart thumps painfully in his chest and reminds him why Sokka makes him feel things that no one else does.

“We need answers,” Sokka says. “Do you think there’s another library we could use? What about another professor, we could…”

“No, we can’t. There’s no time!” Katara cuts him off. She’s still staring at the strange mark on Zuko’s forearm with the same wary fascination that he has. “We have to fight Ozai. We need to stop the Fire Lord first.”

The numbers tick, tick, tick, and Zuko pulls his arm away, turning it so that the numbers are no longer visible.

“Katara’s right,” Zuko says. “We’ll consult with some experts after, but we need to make sure there’s going to even be an after.”

Sokka opens his mouth to argue, clearly not content with that explanation, but the dual glares from Zuko and Katara shut him up. He’s pretty sure Toph hasn’t even bothered to look up from her breakfast, which means the only source of sympathy Sokka is getting is Aang, who squeezes his shoulder.

“Maybe it’s just the spirit world giving you guys a cool new tattoo?”

Zuko eyes it warily, watching the movement and trying not to let the impending dread swarm him. He can’t imagine that this is anything like Aang’s tattoos, but he also doesn’t want to revert to Old Zuko who fights back against any offer of help.

“Maybe,” he chokes out, trying so hard to be positive and optimistic. “Maybe it’s just a reminder to not get off schedule. Katara’s right, we have to face my father.”

Sokka groans and Katara beams.

“I bet if you say it a third time, her head will explode,” Sokka mutters snidely.

“Sokka!” Katara whines sharply, smacking him with a wave of water from Toph’s cup.

“Can’t a girl eat her breakfast in peace around here?” Her hands slam into the ground and drag up pillars of stone that block her from view. “Who cares what’s on your skin? Let’s eat breakfast and get back to training so Twinkletoes doesn’t screw up and make all this planning for nothing!”

“Sorry,” pipes up Sokka from behind his pillar.

Zuko brushes off the stray pebbles that fell into his hair in Toph’s little tantrum, his stomach too unsettled to sit down and do anything other than sip at some tea. He wishes he could pretend that the strange tattoos mean nothing, but his and Sokka’s match so completely (both in form, placement, and movement) that he can’t help but think they have higher meaning.

What does it mean? What’s the timer leading them to?

And does it mean that he and Sokka somehow fit together? That’s the single most thrilling option, but it’s still terrifying because it’s not like Zuko can say that one out loud.

“Aang, you’re training with Toph first thing, then Zuko, and then Katara.”

“Sokka,” Aang whines. “I’m gonna be so tired.”

“You think Ozai is in his palace whining about how tired he is? You can take a break when he’s defeated,” Sokka instructs, pointing to the area they’ve been training in. “Go,” he orders.

There’s an authority to Sokka’s command that draws Zuko in completely. He wants to linger and bask in it, for reasons he doesn’t really want to get into. It’s weird that he’s looking for someone else to give him orders just so he can fall in line. So what if Sokka is the most handsome one to come along in a while (except Jet, but he’s not ready to talk about that).

There’s training to focus on.

There’s a war coming.

The world changes quickly – even faster than Zuko ever thought it could.

Suddenly, Zuko doesn’t have time to worry about strange tattoos or the tumultuous feeling in his stomach when he thinks about Sokka (or the warmth that’s always there, too). Aang goes missing and the world doesn’t stop just because the avatar is gone. Time ticks forward, the marks on Zuko and Sokka’s arms keep moving, and Sozin’s comet keeps barrelling towards them.

Zuko lets himself fall into the search, but it’s not Aang they find. Instead, it’s Iroh and the White Lotus, and suddenly Zuko feels quiet glimpses of hope when it seems like they’re moving towards a plan.

It’s all going just fine until they start dividing up their duty.

“I want Sokka with me,” Zuko says, after Uncle tells him that his destiny is to face Azula.

There’s an uncertain exchange of looks around the camp, including Sokka, but no one is arguing with him. He understands the power of two benders against Azula, but Zuko feels that having Sokka’s plans and brain will be more important, especially since they’ll be in the seat of power.

If Aang does come back, he’ll need a clear run at Ozai. Katara with Toph and Suki promises that. Even if Zuko does defeat Azula (and he has to, he knows it), there will be other dangers waiting for them. That’s why he needs Sokka – he needs a warrior.

Maybe he just needs Sokka in his line of sight, for reasons he doesn’t want to face. Reasons like how he can’t stop staring at him or thinking about him or dreaming about him. He needs to know he’s safe and that means he needs to stay at his side.

“Prince Zuko, are you sure?”

“I am,” Zuko says fiercely, staring down Uncle and waiting to be rebuked.

It never comes.

“Very well. Katara, you’ll accompany Toph and Suki to take down the airships. Zuko, you and Sokka will take Appa, then. Katara, Suki, and Toph will mount an attack on the airships and with luck, we will find the Avatar.”

Zuko doesn’t bring up the fact that he’s still worried that Aang won’t be able to finish the job. The truth is, he’s not even sure that he could do it. Facing down his father is something that’s always been a maybe for him – a hypothetical, a possibility, a quiet fear prone to bursts of screaming.

Ozai can’t win, though. The world deserves better.

Zuko isn’t sure he’s ready to think about anything else. The concerned look Sokka keeps giving him makes Zuko flush, an insidious voice telling him that this is it, this might be their last night alive. If ever he was going to do something, it would be now.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Sokka asks, his eyes on the horizon where the others are beginning their journey toward the airships.

Zuko stays silent because the truth is, he doesn’t know. Katara, Toph, and Suki are all forces to be reckoned with, but he knows his father’s army. He knows the cruelty that lies in those ranks, and all it would take is a single moment off guard.

When it’s clear Sokka won’t let it go, Zuko forces a smile on his face. “I bet they’ll be fine.”

Sokka’s clearly not convinced, either upset because of the lie or upset because when push comes to shove, he’d have probably done the same. “Liar,” he accuses quietly.

“I wish I weren’t one,” Zuko admits. Right now, he’d give anything to be able to say that and have it be the truth, but their forces are so small. How are they supposed to take back cities, countries, cultures with an army like theirs?

Maybe he should just wish to be a better liar.

Rubbing the strange tattoo on his arm, he catches Sokka staring. “You did the math, didn’t you?”

Sokka nods. He’d caught Sokka mouthing numbers earlier that day when staring at the tattoos, then scribbling on parchment. Whatever these are leading to, Sokka knows the exact moment they’ll tip over the edge.

“How long?”

Sokka inhales sharply. “Less than a week after Sozin’s comet is due to hit. Two to three days, at most, depending on when you start counting the comet’s arrival.”

What does that mean?

Is that good news? Are they fated to live because some strange spirit-driven mark on their skin says that they make it past the battle? Do they stop Ozai? Or is this a sign that Ozai never meant to raze the Earth Kingdom after all? Zuko’s head is beginning to hurt, far worse than it usually does.

“So either we’ve got the timing wrong for the comet,” Sokka reasons aloud, ignorant to Zuko’s distress over the very same topic, “or … we win?” He turns big blue eyes on Zuko and for a moment, Zuko wants to tear the world apart just for the chance to see Sokka look at him like that when the world’s destruction isn’t on the line.

It’s a nice thought.

“Maybe,” Zuko says roughly. “Or maybe they don’t mean anything. Maybe you’ve just annoyed one too many spirits.”

“Hey!” Sokka wrinkles his nose. “Obviously, it’s possible, but then, why are you marked and none of the others?”

The little flare of hope in Zuko’s heart begins to kindle again. Why does he matter more than the others? Why are he and Sokka marked with tattoos that beat in time together, like dual heartbeats.

“I…” Zuko’s going red, he can feel it. “Maybe it’s…”

Lucky for him, Sokka doesn’t spend too long on the issue. “I should start packing.” His attention has already skipped off to a new topic, much to Zuko’s relief. “We need to get to the Fire Nation, we don’t want to be too far behind the others.”

“Right. Yeah. Good. Of course.” Zuko strokes his thumb absently over the tattoo as if this time he’ll feel something different, but nothing changes. His thumb brushes warm skin and nothing else. The numbers aren’t raised, they still move, and somehow, he can’t possibly begin to explain it.

He knows it’s driving Sokka mad, not having all the answers.

It’s probably why he’s so determined to start packing – at least that’s something he can control. Knowing Sokka, it’s probably tearing him apart not being able to control it. Zuko’s not sure if he’s in the same boat. He’s started to come around to the impossibility the world sometimes offers.

The Avatar somehow lived a hundred years in an iceberg. There are dragons in the world. The things he can’t explain are longer than the list of crimes Toph’s committed.

Why not add one more thing to the pile?

Within hours, he’s packed. Through confidence (or a sign of doubt), he’s packed light with little more than a bedroll for the trip, a backpack, and his swords.

Sokka’s packed heavier, with enough food to feed them for a week, two heavy backpacks, the space-sword he’s grown to love, his boomerang, club, one of Suki’s fans and what looks like a tin of face paint in his hand. Zuko raises a brow, not saying a word as he looks pointedly at the gear.

“We have no idea what we’re walking into,” Sokka says defensively. “We have to be prepared!”

“Sokka, this isn’t prepared. This is you moving into the Fire Nation.”

“Maybe if we win today, you could ask me to,” he quips.

There’s a moment, just one, where Zuko grips Appa’s fur to try and steady himself and has to remind himself that if he accidentally burns Appa alive because Sokka made him lose control, then he’s going to deserve the Aang’s revenge.

“You’re an idiot,” Zuko mumbles, staring away from Sokka so he can’t catch the expression on Zuko’s face that very much says that Zuko believes otherwise.

“Come on. We shouldn’t waste any more time.”

Sokka reaches out for Zuko’s hand to haul him atop Appa, smiling at him like they’re going to get some food and not about to face his power-hungry sister. The warmth of Sokka’s fingers makes Zuko’s hand feel electric and for a second, he wonders if he’s lightning-bending.

He’s not, though.

He’s Sokka-bending, curling his hand in towards Zuko’s chest as he uses the leverage to climb on top of Appa, not relinquishing his hold until the very last second.

(And even then, he considers holding on a moment longer)

Zuko steadies himself with a more relaxed hold on Appa’s fur, still fighting his own ridiculous desire and the flush that’s probably covering his whole body. When he speaks, it’s a strained, “Yip yip,” that takes them airborne.

Whatever Zuko had expected of this journey, he’s not prepared for the tension that hangs over them like a heavy thunderstorm waiting to strike. Sokka is busy preparing, and at one point, he starts listing scenarios, tactics, strategy, followed by a list of potential outcomes and plans.

He’s not proud to say it, but Zuko tunes him out. He’s pretty sure Sokka’s mainly talking to relieve tension – and he doesn’t actually care if Zuko replies. Instead, Zuko keeps his eyes on the sky, knowing when they’re nearing the Fire Nation not only because of how the landscape changes, but because of the stress making his body tense.

The closer he gets to home, the more his anxiety climbs.

If he’s honest with himself, it’s always been like this. The way his heart beats out of rhythm should have been a sign that it’s been a very long time since Zuko felt safe at home .

Sokka’s still babbling – about Piandao and sword techniques? Or haikus? Or there’s a really crude joke he’s making that Zuko’s not getting – and the heat in the air starts to creep up on him.

They’re close.

Whatever they’re going to face can’t be avoided for much longer.

Appa sets down a short distance from the palace, but it’s hardly like they have the element of surprise. No one’s going to miss a creature like Appa swooping in, which means they have to move swiftly.

“Are you ready for this?” Sokka asks Zuko, extending his hand out to him.

Once they’ve disembarked with all of Sokka’s things, Appa soars away. At least they know he’s safe. Zuko’s not so sure the same can be said for them.

“You can’t carry all that stuff with you,” Zuko says as he mounts his swords in their scabbards, wrapping cloth around his arms, and preparing for the short journey to the palace.

Sokka’s already storing it behind a nearby rock. He’s armed, his face is painted the same as it had been when he and Zuko had first come to blows, and he’s never looked more serious in his life.

The boy he’s been getting to know is gone. In his place stands a man, both scared and sure of the next step they have to take.

“It’ll be here when we come back for it.”

“If,” Zuko corrects.

“You can’t be optimistic just once?”

“Can you?” Zuko challenges. Sokka had spent most of the journey talking about the myriad of ways this could all go wrong, after all. Neither of them are a particular ray of sunshine at this moment.

Eyeing the palace in the near distance, Zuko feels a staggering combination of emotions slam into him like a boulder from an earth bender. He’d been here so recently under such different circumstances.

It freezes him in his tracks and suddenly, he wonders how he ever thought he could do this. Sokka nearly slams into him, bracing his hands on Zuko’s hips to prevent them both from falling over.

Suddenly, with his hands against the warmth of his skin, holding him tightly, Zuko feels safe.

“Sokka,” Zuko manages, his voice pitifully small. He’s not sure how to admit that he’s scared and worried, but he is. His whole life, he hasn’t been what his father had wanted, or what his sister had expected, and he feels like he’s constantly failing Uncle.

What if he can’t be the person Sokka needs him to be?

“We’re almost there.” Sokka doesn’t sound very confident either. Zuko has to wonder how much is fear of this battle and how much is the Day of the Black Sun weighing on him.

Sometimes, Zuko wonders how children like them can walk with their heads held high, when there’s so much weighing them down.

“What if…?”

“There’s no turning back,” Sokka cuts him off, squeezing Zuko’s hips before he gives him a hard nudge. “Come on. We have to go.” There’s a plea in his voice, which tells Zuko that he needs to help by taking the first step.

Otherwise, he gets the feeling that Sokka won’t move a muscle.

Zuko thinks of his Uncle. He thinks of the comet. He thinks of the cruelty of his father, but instead of being focused on his family, he thinks of it burning the whole world. He thinks of what the future would be like if he let that happen.

Then, and only then, can he take the first step.

He feels Sokka’s hands slip away from his skin, but there isn’t much time to mourn the loss. Soon, they’re at the palace in its unearthly silence.

“Don’t tell me you took us to the wrong address.” It’s a good sign that Sokka’s joking, even if the mirth doesn’t reach his eyes. Zuko’s not sure he likes it. It really does seem like everyone in the Fire Nation has absconded, but for where? And why? What’s going on?

He wanders into the empty space and feels infinitesimally small, not for the first time in his life. There’s another emotion creeping up on him that has his heart pounding quicker in his chest, and makes the skin around his scar feel tighter than ever.

It’s nerves – the likes of which he hasn’t felt since he was thirteen.

Sokka’s started to clear the outer halls with his sword drawn, but Zuko stays steady in the middle of the courtyard, trying to remember Uncle’s lessons about breathing so he doesn’t start a fiery tornado around him in his panic.

Eventually, the silence snaps when they find who they’ve come here looking for.

“If it isn’t our wayward prince.” He doesn’t see Azula yet. Her voice echoes in the courtyard, and try as Zuko might to find her exact position, all he catches are shadows. “Though, I’m not sure we can call you that, not when you’re here as a traitor.”

Zuko settles his weight as he shifts, thinking of the air rushing past his cheek as he’d stood high above the earth and the dragons roared past him. He tries to think of the calm he’d felt, and how connected he’d been.

Even with that reminder, it flickers as Azula steps into the light. Her gaze flicks to the side dismissively, mouth twisting in disappointment. “You couldn’t even come alone.”

There’s something off about her. Her fingers are white at the knuckles and she’s not blinking, staring Zuko down like he’s an obstacle in her way – then again, he always has been. There’s just something desperate about her need to remove him, now.

“I’m not sure coming to my senses makes me a traitor, so much as it makes me sane.”

Her eye twitches at the last word. Zuko logs that away as interesting, but he’s not entirely sure if there’s anything to be done about it. He’s not about to belittle Azula into capitulating – that’s her skill, not his.

This ends in a fight, one way or the other.

“You know what I’m here to do,” Zuko says as he makes his way into the courtyard.

“Predictable,” she scoffs, mirroring his motion as she comes to a stop ten feet from him. “I suppose that’s why Father wanted me to stay and be the Fire Lord,” she says with a smug grin (eye twitching). “It’s practically one of the job responsibilities now. When you’re not busy ruling the nation, you have to put down family traitors in the only way they understand.”

Zuko knows every word is meant to dig at him, but he doesn’t let it. He’s got everything he needs and it’s not from this place or his family. It comes from within, and that’s the fire he needs to nourish.

“I challenge you to an Agni Kai,” he says, letting his voice ring loudly.

The dignity of the moment is only slightly ruined by the enthusiastic shout nearby. “C’mon, Zuko, kick her ass!”

Zuko closes his eyes tightly and breathes out a soft curse at Sokka’s enthusiasm. Azula doesn’t share in his annoyance, but he can see the way her consideration shifts towards Sokka by the way her eyes narrow. “Careful, or I might fry the cheering section by mistake,” is a dark threat that Zuko knows better than to dismiss.

“Sokka, take care of anyone who tries to stop this,” Zuko says, hoping that it will also keep him out of the way.

It’s also something that needs to be done, if they don’t want to be interrupted.

“I suppose I’ll fight you,” she remarks, inspecting her nails as if he’s boring her. “This shouldn’t take very long.”

She’s baiting him, trying to get him to reveal everything he’s got up his sleeve, but he’s learned a lot in a few months. Patience might not be his strongest virtue, but at least it’s a weapon at his disposal these days instead of impatience being a liability.

He hears the moment it frustrates her from the guttural cry in her throat that echoes in the courtyard, and only then does Zuko feel a smug flicker rush through him.

We really can win this, he thinks, and begins to breathe.

“Well? You challenged me! Do something!”

Another breath, and then another. When he takes the last measured breath, he begins, but not the routine that his father taught him.

It’s not the one he learned at Azula’s side (always a step behind). This is what the dragons taught him. This is the dragon dance, and as his leg sweeps forward, the fire hurries across the courtyard in constant sweeping bursts.

The idea of Zuko finally besting Azula at her own game is a heady thing, but even with the dragons’ lessons backing him up, Azula is still Azula and counters each of his attacks with easy defense, shooting back plumes of blue fire as if an afterthought.

“Is that it?” she taunts.

“Why? Are you tired?” he snipes at her. “What would Father think if he heard you say that?”

He doesn’t anticipate the faster strike from Azula, as pointed bursts nearly singe off his hair, but Zuko holds his ground. He stays steady. He tries to keep an eye out for Sokka, but there’s no time to look, because Azula’s attacks turn constant.

“He left you here,” Zuko shouts, knowing it’s bad form to poke a wounded animal, but unable to help himself. “In this quiet, dying city while he goes off to win the war! He left you for me.” And he knows, he knows, that it’s a dig at himself.

Never good enough, never the dutiful son, never the one to be proud of.

And yet, it feels good, using years of that stance to twist the knife and make Azula feel even a fraction of what he did.

He can tell that he’s getting to her by the shift in her fighting style. Suddenly, the careful and measured strikes vanish in the face of an onslaught of blue fire – waves of it, constantly coming and forcing Zuko to play defense instead of offense.

Even with Zuko’s swipes, it’s odd for her to react like this, but then, has he ever really known his sister? Has he ever really known anyone in his family?

He can’t figure out why she’s shifting strategy like this, but it’s Azula – there’s going to be a reason. It can’t actually be because Zuko managed to wound her feelings.

Unfortunately, he figures it out with barely any time to spare – and he doesn’t do it alone.

“Zuko! Look!”

Sokka’s panicked cry comes just in time. Just as the blue fire is withdrawing, he feels the shift in the atmosphere before he sees the crackle of lightning. He braces himself for defense, but as the smoke evaporates in the air, just in time suddenly becomes way too late.

She’s not attacking Zuko.

“Azula!” he shouts, voice hoarse as her desperation infects him. It’s a bid to get her attention that fails. “Fight me! Do it!”

The sky hadn’t opened up and struck him with lightning when he’d asked. Azula doesn’t change her target, either.

Because she’s not aiming at Zuko. She’s targeting Sokka, who’s barely paying attention, occupied with fighting off two armed guards with his sword. Sokka can’t divert the lightning, he’s going to die if Zuko doesn’t do anything.

There’s no time to divert it. She must know that.

Zuko has to make his choice. He’s not ashamed to admit that it takes absolutely no time at all for him to decide – with his own life on the line, he chooses Sokka.

Time slows. It’s not slow enough for him to do anything meaningful with it, but he can abandon his defensive position and fling himself into the path of Azula’s lightning, arms spread wide to take up as much space as he can.

Sokka. He picks Sokka.

Please don’t let Zuko lose him. Even if he loses everything else, even his own life, he needs Sokka to stay alive.

When his father had burned his face after the Agni Kai, there had been a moment of such searing, brutal pain that Zuko thought he’d died. He’d wondered why the afterlife would hurt so much, because it didn’t seem possible to survive that kind of pain.

He feels that again now. His chest throbs and he’s scared to look down to see the damage. Every time he tries to stand, his knees collapse, and the erratic beat of his heart can’t be good.

“Hey. Hey, Zuko,” Sokka whispers, voice broken, but he’s so near. Zuko feels the warmth of a pair of arms wrapping around him, propping him up, so Sokka must be close.

Knowing he’s safe, he allows himself to collapse into Sokka’s arms, falling to his knees, trying to ignore Azula’s cackling laughter nearby.

“I’d finish the job, but I was given instructions to wait.” She sounds rankled by that, annoyed, but whatever order she’s following comes from someone important enough that she doesn’t summon down another storm.

If Zuko had anything left in him to fight, this would be their opportunity.

“I can take her,” Sokka hisses. “Let me…”

Zuko reaches out for Sokka’s hand to grip as tightly as he can muster. “I just saved you from getting cooked,” he croaks. “Please don’t run headfirst into another lightning bolt and make that pointless.” He reaches for his hands and brings them back to his chest.

If he’s going to die, then he wants Sokka at his side while he does it.

Struggling to stay conscious, Zuko realizes what’s happened. They’ve lost. How? How could it have gone like this?

The insidious voice in his head whispers that of course they’ve lost, he protected Sokka instead of letting him die and winning the battle.

Even a year ago, Zuko wouldn’t have flinched if that meant he received a ticket home and his honor. Now, with a hand protectively holding onto Sokka, weak and wondering if he’s going to make it, he knows that had never been an option.

“Zuko,” Sokka whispers, his brows knit with worry. “Zuko, you don’t look so good.”

“Don’t feel so good,” he admits, barely able to get the words out. He’s only conscious because he’s worried about what will happen if he gives in to the darkness. He can see Azula amassing guards and knows it won’t be long before she returns to deal with them.

What he’s not expecting is the jets of fire above them.

No. No, oh no, it can’t be…

“Azula,” says Ozai as he lands, hardly looking damaged at all.

Zuko isn’t the only one who’s failed today, then.

It’s the crushing weight of realizing that all their plans have failed that has him wobbling, only saved by collapsing totally by Sokka’s grip. He’s too scared to ask about Aang and the others. He doesn’t want to know where they are or what happened to them. The world has narrowed to this courtyard and the way his decisions are circling him, ready to strike.

He can hear the pounding of guards’ boots and he can feel Sokka tensing at his side.

“Don’t,” Zuko rasps and holds onto him. “Don’t let me lose anything else today.” His fingers twitch, but he grabs hold of Sokka’s sleeve and pulls weakly.

It’s enough. Sokka doesn’t go anywhere. He’s right at his side as the guards close in and their freedom bleeds away.

“Oh, dear brother,” Azula sneers as the guards keep Zuko pinned down. They do the same to Sokka, and while he’s concerned for his friend, he might be even more worried about Azula right now. “What a disappointment you are.”

There’s something so wrong with her that Zuko can practically feel her chi blocked from here. Her voice is sharp and there’s a mad look in her eye. There’s especially something wrong with the way she can’t seem to stop desperately looking towards Ozai.

There’s no time to think about her, because another shadow looms over him. Zuko keeps his head down and has to hope that Aang and the others have retreated to fight another day.

He can’t bring himself to ask what happened in the fight.

“Azula,” Ozai says evenly. “Why is Zuko running around with a Water Tribe rat?”

“You know Zuko,” Azula huffs. “He always gets too attached to his pets. He’ll probably cry when we put this one down, too. Don’t worry, brother. I’ll make sure Father delivers a perfectly quick death.”

Sokka keeps his head bowed low, unmoving and steady. Zuko can’t imagine the courage it takes, because his body is shaking with fury, fire licking at his breath as smoke and steam war within him, begging to be let out.

“Don’t talk about him like that!” Zuko shouts.

“This worthless child? This is the one you brought to us. Not the Avatar or a powerful master bender, but this insignificant non-bender.”

It’s like he’s a child all over again. He hears the echoes of Ozai’s taunts in his memory, recalling what it felt like to be a young boy, untalented at bending – lucky to be born. Not knowing what’s happened to his friends while he kneels there, captured by Azula, is the worst possible scenario.

At least, it seems that way in Zuko’s mind, but what he’s beginning to learn is that there’s always a worse place, it just hasn’t been discovered yet. Currently, Zuko’s anger is blinding him to the fact that he’s digging his way directly to that place.

“He’s better than you could ever be!” Zuko hisses, lunging forward and struggling despite the guards trying to hold him back and the pain that sears through him. “It doesn’t matter that he can’t bend, he’s smarter than you. He’s braver! Those war balloons you’re so impressed by, he helped make them work! He’s the one who got so close during the eclipse with his submarines!”

Zuko’s anger has always been his downfall. Now, seeing the sudden interest in Ozai’s eyes and the horror in Sokka’s, he realizes that it’s become his fatal flaw.

He goes lax in the guard’s arms as he realizes what he’s done.

“No,” he exhales, horrified. “Wait!”

“If Zuko thinks so highly of the Water Tribe peasant, we won’t let his talents go to waste,” Ozai says, flicking a few fingers, which has the guards dragging Sokka up to the dais. “You’ve already helped the Fire Nation with your plans and inventions. We would have never won this war without your balloons, and we have modifications of your submarines in progress. With your help, the Fire Nation’s supremacy will reign for another thousand years, all thanks to you.”

Sokka isn’t fighting it. Why isn’t he fighting it? Zuko’s struggle has returned, straining against the hold the guards have on him.

“Take them away,” Ozai commands with a flick of his wrist. “I’ll decide what to do with the banished prince later, but keep the peasant well-fed. Let’s show him that the Fire Nation treats its assets well.”

Zuko doesn’t know when the fire burns out of him. He thinks it must be the moment he watches the guards kick Sokka in the back of his knees so they can drag him along the floor, not even bothering to show him respect.

How could he have ever believed this was a home he wanted? How could he have ever thought his father’s approval was worth a thing?

The prison cell they bring him to is small, but that doesn’t matter. Zuko’s already planning his way out of here, helped by information he’d managed to get out of Uncle during their talks. He can see the guards that take too much glee in denying him food and the ones that have sympathy in their eyes and hesitate when given their orders.

He’s not staying here because he has to rescue Sokka, and that gives him purpose.

They heal Zuko. enough that he won’t die. It’s clear they want him to suffer, but what they don’t know is that Zuko has been putting himself through so much suffering over the last few years that he’s become inured to it.

The pain is almost welcome because it’s a reminder of why they can’t stay.

Two nights later, Zuko breaks out of his prison cell with the help of a sympathetic guard, his bending, and several pieces of metal from his dinner tray. He doesn’t go to the throne room to deal with his father and he doesn’t leave Caldera to find Aang and the others.

He goes two floors down to where they keep prisoners from other nations.

“Sokka,” he hisses.

There’s no response. Sokka’s hair hangs loose over his eyes as he sits in the corner of his prison cell. He’s grateful that Sokka looks untouched, most likely because Ozai and his court are busy dealing with the destruction of the Earth Kingdom and the resistance being held up – headed by Aang and Uncle from the whispers he hears, which gives Zuko some relief.

Not enough, though, because he knows that they don’t have time to rescue them. The world has changed and they have to fight back.

“Sokka, please,” he hisses. “We have to go!”

“We lost, Zuko.”

The despair is unlike anything he’s ever heard before. Sokka complains and criticizes and whines, but he’s never sounded this empty before. It’s like he’s been hollowed out and nothing is left.

“What happened to your plans?” Zuko’s desperate to bring life back into Sokka’s voice, no matter how. This isn’t right. It’s not fair that he’s brought Sokka to this miserable place, and it feels empty to try and get out of it with positive thinking alone.

He’s still going to try.

“My plan right now is to try and become compost before Ozai can use me to hurt the people I love,” Sokka mutters, slouching a little lower into the corner of his cell, as if he’s trying to communicate with the dirt to take him whole.

“Fine, then I’ll…” Zuko’s anger has bubbled up and now it has nowhere to go. “I’ll!” What will he do? Will he force Sokka out of here? Throw him over his shoulder and escape with him against his will?

Even a few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do what he believes is necessary, but the defeated exhaustion on Sokka’s face breaks him. This is what happens when he opens his heart to someone else.

It gets broken.

“Then I’ll stay,” he says, and walks right back into a prison cell, uncertain about the choice but hoping that maybe this is just a mood that he’ll be able to shift with enough time.

Tentatively, Zuko settles on his knees a foot away from Sokka, cautious to give him some space. It’s only been two days, but he has no idea what his father’s guards might have done to Sokka in the meantime and he doesn’t want to encroach.

Luckily, Sokka erases that uncertainty in a second by darting forward to haul Zuko into his arms, burying his face in Zuko’s neck as he sobs into it, the sound muffled and heart wrenching. Zuko can feel himself shaking, the reality of their situation sinking in.

He collapses in the corner of the cell, tangling their legs together until he can support Sokka half in his lap. It’s an intimacy that he would have killed for only a few days ago, but he hates that this awful situation is why he gets it.

“I’m glad that I’m not alone,” Sokka whispers. “I’m glad that if anyone’s here with me, it’s you. I’m just sorry we couldn’t do it right. I’m sorry we never figured out what these things are supposed to mean.”

He doesn’t even notice the tattoo on his wrist ticking down until it’s nearly too late. Sokka’s thumb swipes over the warm skin, drawing Zuko’s attention to it. There had been so many days before, but now there are only hours.

“I’m sorry too. For everything,” Zuko says, not sure what’s about to happen.

Is this how he’ll die? Will his father find him and catch him unaware with a bolt of lightning? If he does, Zuko only hopes that he can manage to take Sokka with him and spare him the pain of being the Fire Nation’s slave.

If this is the last moment he’ll ever have, he doesn’t want to waste it.

“Sokka, I’m so sorry, I…” He launches himself at Sokka and hugs him tightly, burying his face in the warmth of Sokka’s neck. “Please, please come with me.”

“We can’t risk them following us to the others, if there’s even anyone left.”

Zuko closes his eyes and hates that he knows Sokka is right. In order to protect whoever is left, they have to stay here – for now. He holds as tightly as he can, as if he’s chasing warmth when there’s no need for him to do that.

“Can I stay here?” he whispers.

“The guards will probably force you out.”

“Then until they do. Can I stay?”

Despite Sokka’s listless exhaustion and despite the way he seems unable to hold himself up, he never lets go of Zuko. Maybe something will change. Maybe Aang will come. Maybe Katara will burst in and rescue them.

(Maybe Ozai will force Sokka to be his willing lackey for years. Maybe Azula will lightning bend Zuko all the way to the grave. Maybe they lost and they’ll keep losing until they have nothing left)

“Stay,” is a ghost of a word, but Zuko hears it.

He tightens his hold on Sokka and lets himself grieve for the plan they had and the hope for the future that’s been blotted out.

It turns out that the people of Ba Sing Se have been proven right. There is no war.

There is only the Phoenix King’s reign and that is what Zuko will have to live with when he faces the dawn of a bleak new day.

Chapter Text

When he wakes, something doesn’t feel right.

He’d been trying to avoid sleep, knowing that by not escaping, he was subjecting himself to the worst tortures the Fire Nation could think of. The only question had been whether Ozai would send him away to a place like Boiling Rock, whether he’d stick him underground, or whether he’d imprison him in the palace, forcing him to do his bidding, lest he harm one of his loved ones.

His exhaustion has managed to get the better of him, though, and despite the anxiety and fear combining to make him jittery and nervous, he’d fallen asleep.

And woken up to …

Sokka, in his arms, on the sand of Ember Island? Zuko attempts to pull away from Sokka, but he’s viciously attached to Zuko. “No,” Sokka pleads, and that’s not a pleasant sound. It’s full of fear and pain, half sobbed out. “Please.”

“Sokka! Sokka, wake up,” Zuko hisses, cheeks flushing red as he wonders if his mind is allowing him one last good dream before the nightmare kicks in.

It takes a few more shakes, but soon Sokka wakes, as stunned and confused as Zuko. “...what? How? You’re not Ozai.”

The icy chill that freezes Zuko’s body isn’t new. He feels it every time he thinks he might be more like his father than he ever meant to be. Despite his inner desires to be more like Uncle and his childish need to be like his mother, it’s emulating his father that he worries about, especially when his anger is so swift and easy to access.

“Sokka, where are we? Did someone grab us? Did you agree to escape with me?”

He looks for their saviors, but there’s no one. Distantly, Zuko thinks he hears the faint sound of Aang doing hot squats, but that’s impossible. They were in the Fire Nation, and they were prisoners. Ozai was on the precipice of ruining their lives and…

“Zuko! Look!”

Sokka grabs hold of Zuko’s bicep and forearm, eliciting that same electric spark that he’d felt before. This time, it doesn’t last as long, because Zuko’s strange tattoo on his arm is no longer hovering around zero like it’d been last night.

It’s reset, somehow, and there are a few days left, once he does the math.

He’s not prepared for the full body embrace he receives when Sokka slams into him, scrambling his brain when the boy he’s fallen for is suddenly plastered to him. Zuko rests his palm tentatively at Sokka’s back, hovering for a moment and then letting it fall in place, solid and steady as he waits.

Sokka isn’t sobbing with grief into Zuko’s neck, though.

This time, it sounds like joyous relief.

“Look, Zuko. We went back in time, to before Sozin’s comet,” Sokka says, his eyes on the sky with his chin on Zuko’s shoulder. “See? You can just barely see it, but it’s there,” he says, tangling his fingers with Zuko’s, probably because he wants to get him looking in the right spot as he points.

It doesn’t matter why he does it, all Zuko knows is that Sokka’s holding his hand.

“Are you … okay?” Zuko asks. His voice is rough and he’s so uncertain about all of this. He’s not usually the person that comforts others. For the most part when things get too emotional, he either has an angry outburst and makes it worse, or he simply leaves.

He’s not sure what to do with actually caring for people, but being with Aang and the team has taught him that caring isn’t a weakness.

It’s a skill and a weapon, all in itself.

“Maybe?” Sokka admits shakily. “We’re alive. We’re not in prison, but I don’t understand how we got back here, or why these numbers are different,” he says, staring at the strange inked marks on their arms that continuously count down, but from a completely new number this time. “How do we even know we’re in the past? Maybe your Dad has access to some weird cactus juice torture device and we’re having a shared hallucination.”

That sounds complicated and not like his father at all.

“My father isn’t really subtle about his cruelty,” Zuko states flatly, his scar stinging sharply. “If he wanted to make us suffer, he wouldn’t do it with drugs.”

Besides, what would be the point? Them sharing a hallucination does the one thing that Zuko knows Ozai would never allow – it gives them each other. It allows for them to have support. It gives Zuko a friend.

For that reason alone, Zuko knows it’s not him.

“Okay. Okay,” Sokka’s already pacing, which means he’s taken his body warmth and started moving away from Zuko, depressingly. “So if we’re back, we need to figure out how. And why. Maybe something is different? Maybe the first time was some kind of…” Here, he stops, and winces. “...spiritual rehearsal.”

“Still don’t like believing in them, do you?” Zuko notes mildly.

“I acknowledge them,” Sokka gripes. “I don’t have to like it.”

That’s fair. There are a number of things that Zuko does the same with, up to and including most of the Fire Nation’s policies.

“We need to investigate. C’mon. Let’s go be detectives and figure out how we got back here.”

It doesn’t take long for Sokka to put the pieces together. It’d be funny if Zuko weren’t feeling so shaken. Katara and Toph have absolutely no idea what they’re talking about. Suki wants to know more about the numbers, but every time they insist they’ve lived this already, that’s when they lose her.

And Aang? Well, here’s the thing –

The confirmation that they’re reliving the past comes when events happen the same as before – Aang is missing, the comet nears, and they head off to find the White Lotus.

“Why would we come back here if we’re just reliving the same things?” Sokka asks impatiently, sitting back to back with Zuko outside of Iroh’s tent. Despite living this once already, Zuko’s nerves sing furiously as he builds up the courage to go inside and see his uncle.

That, or he’s telling himself that he’s building up the courage when really, he just doesn’t want to move because he can feel Sokka’s breaths sitting like this. He can feel the beat of his heart. The warmth of his skin is temptingly, teasingly close.

He wants all of it.

He’s going to take as much as he can.

“Maybe it’s up to us to change it,” Zuko says. “We have a chance to do something different. I would have killed for this chance, so many times in my life.”

Sokka peers over his shoulder at him speculatively. “Pretty sad when you want a do-over for more than one thing in your life.”

“Don’t you?” Zuko asks roughly, because he knows that Sokka’s no different.

They’re all children of regret and remorse and grief. They’ve grown up in the shadow of other people’s mistakes and instead of fixing it, they just made their own. They’re learning, though, and maybe that’s the point.

“We can’t let my father win. That means something goes differently this time.”

“Anything to stop Ozai,” Sokka agrees, shifting until he’s sitting parallel to Zuko, leaning his shoulder heavily against him. “Go and see your Uncle,” he coaxes. “You already know how it’s gonna go. You’ve seen this act in the play, it even has a happy ending.”

It does and Zuko is desperate for a hug from his Uncle, especially after being trapped in the Fire Nation cells, but that means he needs to move from Sokka’s touch – easier said than done.

“You won’t go anywhere?” he checks, feeling something brittle inside him threaten to snap at the thought of losing Sokka, especially after what they just went through.

“We’ve got a fight to relive,” Sokka quips, “why would I leave before the grand finale?”

It’s difficult for Zuko to leave Sokka’s side, especially given everything that happened, but the only other thing in the world that can give him some relief is his Uncle, who he hugs even tighter than he did the first time.

“Nephew.” Iroh sounds worried, which means he suspects something. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“No,” Zuko says roughly, keeping his head low. “I just want to focus on winning this war.”

He knows that won’t be enough to deal with Iroh’s suspicion, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Right now, Zuko is hugging his Uncle as tightly as he can and he’s not his father’s prisoner or his sister’s pawn.

He’s still free.

Let him always be free.

Soon, though, the dread begins to mount. He can only bask in his Uncle’s warmth for so long before he and the rest of the White Lotus get right back to planning with their motley rag-tag group – talking about the things that must be done and the enemies they’ll have to face.

This time, though, Zuko already knows that he cannot fight Azula and win. “Uncle,” he says, interrupting him before he can nudge Zuko towards the Fire Nation. “Let me go with Sokka and Suki to the air brigade. I know the design of those ships. I’ll be more useful there, especially if we find Aang and he faces Ozai.”

“What of Azula?” Iroh questions.

“Sizzles?” Toph pipes up. “Katara and I can take her and hold down the fort in the Fire Nation.”

“That sounds like a plan to me,” Sokka says. He doesn’t reach out for Zuko’s hand, but his fingers inch towards him before he retracts them.

Zuko understands the feeling. After what happened, the last thing he wants to do is let Sokka out of his sight. Him being three feet away alone feels like he’s much too far. Still, already he feels better than last time. They’re not doing the same thing. They’re changing it, and that means they’re going to be victorious.

Right?

There’s no other reason they’d be sent back here, unless it’s to do it right this time. They’re changing it, which is an opportunity to live without regret.

Out of habit, Zuko checks the tattoo on his forearm and does some quick math. Whatever is going to happen isn’t the same as last time. This time, the timer will run out almost a full two days before the last time.

What does that mean?

(And why does he have to ignore the little voice in his head that whispers that if they’re getting a second chance, why are they being measured against some unspoken outcome that they know nothing about).

“Let’s get going,” Suki says, handing Zuko his dao swords. “We don’t have much time. If we miss the ships before they’re airborne, we’re out of luck.”

There’s a surge of relief that goes through him. Suki’s competence had been one of their best strengths during their misadventure in the prison, and with her at their side, nothing can possibly go wrong.

They should have done this the first time. Why hadn’t they done it like this?

“What do you think?” Zuko asks Suki, unable to help himself. “Do we have a chance?”

Suki shoots him an annoyed look from the mount of her eel hound. “Not if you keep asking questions and wasting time.”

He looks to Sokka for support, but clearly he’s not about to challenge Suki (which makes a bolt of jealousy in him flare that he’s not ready to address). He mimes zipping his lips as he climbs his own eel hound, leaving Zuko out to dry.

“You could still come with us,” Toph quips, handing Zuko the reins as he climbs the last mount.

He thinks of the courtyard. The fire. The flame. Then, the sharp smell of atmospheric change hits his memory and he swears he can smell it.

Zuko’s heart must be pounding in his chest, but Toph says nothing (though she does tip her head to one side speculatively).

“Hey, c’mon, it’s fine,” she promises, standing in front of his eel hound to prevent him from going. “I’m the world’s greatest earthbender.” She beams at him, winking, and finally steps to the side. “I’ll go easy on your sister. Promise. Now, go take down an army or I’m going to think you’re slacking.”

The atmospheric sharpness on the tip of his tongue doesn’t dissipate. For one brief moment, he thinks he should go with her, but he knows what happens if he fights Azula.

Nothing good.

“Come on,” Suki calls sharply. “Let’s get moving.”

Besides, it looks like Suki’s putting him through the paces of a Kyoshi warrior with her timelines. He looks to Sokka for relief, but he’s got an even sterner look on his face.

“We’re already twenty minutes behind,” he says.

Zuko sighs as he takes the eel hound’s reins. “You two really were made for each other,” he mumbles, trying to ignore the sharp stabbing sensation that goes through him at the thought. They’re both confident and steady leaders who know how to stick to a plan. It’s that thought that consumes him as they get going, but even with his doubts creeping in, he doesn’t miss Sokka’s worried glance over his shoulder – something that happens frequently on their journey.

It might not be enough to quell all his doubts, but it’s something.

He lingers at the back of their small pack as they travel with Suki in the lead and Sokka minding the space between them. It’s not like they could have made any conversation. The eel hounds are fast and somewhat uncoordinated, leading them to move quickly, but spaced apart.

It feels like they’ve been going for days when Zuko arrives at a clearing to find Suki and Sokka have already dismounted and tied up their eel hounds to the nearest tree.

“Get some rest,” Suki advises, when Zuko climbs down. “We’re going to need it before we make the final portion of the journey tomorrow.”

She’s set up a lean-to nearby, with a few branches and leaves for privacy.

Zuko isn’t sure he’s going to be able to get any sleep until this is all over. He hasn’t got much on him, but he doesn’t bother with a shelter. Instead, he opts to lie on his bed-roll under the stars, rubbing a thumb over the shifting calligraphy numbers on his arm.

He hears Sokka arrive – he’s memorized all the footsteps of Team Avatar by now – but he doesn’t look towards him.

Instead, he waits to see what comes next.

It pays off. Within moments, the warmth of Sokka’s body presses against Zuko’s. His hand rests tentatively against Zuko’s hips and he curls in, chin on Zuko’s collarbones.

“Suki might see,” he warns roughly.

“Yeah. I know,” Sokka replies softly. He’s not sure what that means, but something in him feels like it’s taken flight, given wings, and set to soar. He presses his splayed palm to Zuko’s chest, just above his heart, staring at him in the moon-lit darkness. “Should we talk about…?”

Zuko feels his jaw tighten. “Do you mean you want to talk about how you gave up? You didn’t know we’d get another chance,” he hisses, working to keep his voice down but knowing his anger has rarely helped with that in the past. “You were going to let yourself fade into compost just so Ozai couldn’t use you. Why? We could have fought! How do I know you won’t do the same now?”

Sokka looks chastened, but he doesn’t lift his gaze. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where Aang or Katara or Toph were. You looked really bad, Zuko, I wasn’t even sure if you’d make it. Until we woke up and you were completely fine again, I really thought…”

Even so, Zuko stubbornly can’t agree.

“I looked at my options and strategy said to use what I had at my disposal. If that meant being kept alive until I figured out medical support for you or the location of my friends and family, then it meant staying. It meant suffering. It meant giving up, so I could fight another day.”

Zuko’s not sure he believes it. Why would anyone do that for him?

Maybe Sokka’s just trying to make him feel better and it’s all for the others. Or, maybe (and it feels like a big maybe), he might actually mean something to Sokka. With Sokka practically curled around him, that feels more realistic than it might have only a few weeks ago.

“It’s not about giving up?” he asks, because that’s what he’s worried about. “You’re not going to abandon me and Suki to fight this battle on our own?”

“I’d never leave either of you without a fight,” Sokka promises, his hand sliding a few inches until it’s steady over Zuko’s heart, which is beating wildly. Toph’s not here to clock him, but she doesn’t need to be. After all, Sokka’s fingers are right there, where his heart is pounding like it’s putting on a show.

Are they going to ever talk about this?

Zuko stays silent, because as stubborn as he can be, there are also times when he’s an absolute coward.

“You heard Suki,” he says roughly. “We should get some sleep.”

“Okay.”

Zuko knows he shouldn’t prod. He can’t help it. “Aren’t you going to go find your own bed?”

Sokka wraps his arms a little snugger around Zuko’s waist. “No,” he hums, and burrows in. “Not when you’re so warm and comfortable.”

The world is a thousand pounds lighter than before. Zuko presses his lips together to avoid anyone catching him smiling in a time like this, but who’s going to see? Sokka’s already half-snoring, Suki’s probably out like a light, and all that leaves are his ancestors.

He hopes they’re enjoying the show.

Tentatively, cautiously, he rests his palm on Sokka’s back and simply lets it be as he lets the steadiness of his breathing put him to sleep – a thankfully empty one devoid of both dreams and nightmares.

He’s not sure which of the spirits to thank for that, but he thanks all of them, just for good measure.

When Zuko wakes to the dewy grass in the morning, Sokka hasn’t moved an inch. He can hear rustling nearby as Suki begins breaking down her shelter, which means they need to get moving.

“Sokka.”

“Mmmph.”

“Sokka,” Zuko hisses, trying to budge Sokka off his chest, but he’s dead weight. He’s also extremely warm and in the process of manhandling him, Zuko gets a few gropes in of lean muscle.

If Sokka doesn’t move soon, they’re going to have another bigger problem.

“Katara’s going to drench you,” Zuko deadpans.

That does the trick. “What? Where!” He practically leaps to attention before he remembers that Katara is leagues away. He leaps to his feet, fists in a fighting position, but the only would-be attacker is Suki, holding out some dried beef.

She eyes Sokka warily, handing some of the food to Zuko. “Is he okay?” she asks warily.

“Is he ever?” Zuko deadpans, gnawing into the salty breakfast.

“Hey! I’m right here and I can hear both of you.”

Suki smirks, elbowing Zuko lightly as she settles in beside him to eat. “So, the usual levels of Sokka. Absolutely not okay, but patching himself together with twenty different ideas and contraptions.”

Who isn’t, these days?

Sokka reaches out for the other piece of jerky that Suki has, chewing it suspiciously. “I don’t think this is enough of a peace offering for both of you insulting me,” he whines. He scratches at the marks on his arms, and as he does, he catches Suki eyeing them, looking like she’s going to make a comment.

Zuko clears his throat aggressively, masking it a little with a cough like his mouth’s too dry. Sokka seems to get the point, though, tugging the wrap to adjust it, already winding up into another rant about how their supplies for breakfast are too small.

Suki seems to take it at face value, not digging in and asking more questions about why they think they’re somehow living through the same thing again and how the tattoos are tied to that.

Zuko trusts Suki, of course he does. And he knows Sokka trusts her with his life.

Yet, there’s something about what they’ve gone through that feels like it would be impossible to understand, unless you were in it. They’ve gone through something terrible together, and talking about it isn’t going to shed light on the situation.

Trust has nothing on trauma.

“Now that we’re fed and Sokka has complained enough for the whole day, we should go,” Suki says pointedly, already on task and driving them forward. She yanks the last piece of jerky out of Sokka’s hands, smiling patiently as she rips into it, gesturing to their eel hounds. “Come on, boys. We’ve got the end of the world to stop.”

Maybe, this time, it’ll even work.

Zuko affords one last look at his tattooed arm, glaring accusingly at it. “You better not mess this up.”

Whether he’s talking to the spirits who put this mark on him or himself, he’s still not entirely sure.

Sokka and Suki are nearly out of sight, which means Zuko’s got some catching up to do. Even with their speed, they’re nearly too late. He can see the ships just over the horizon, lifting off to do their damage.

“Hurry!” he shouts, shifting to a standing straddle to push every ounce of energy the eel hound has left, careful not to topple off or lose his weapons. At some point, he passes Sokka and Suki, which spurs them into a competitive need to keep up with him, and bring them to the edge of a cliff.

The trailing rope from the airship is going to leave the ground, but they’re getting on that ship. Zuko is not failing again.

He dismounts in a hurry, practically yanking Sokka down from the mount. Suki is steadying herself on both feet, eyeing the rope cautiously, and Zuko knows he doesn’t have to worry about her.

She proves him right with a well-timed leap that has her on the rope, leaving Zuko to sprint for the edge, shoving Sokka in front of him.

“You have to jump!”

“What if I fall to the ground and die?”

Zuko checks the time on his wrist, then spares a quick look to Sokka’s. “Then the spirits don’t know how to keep time!” he shouts back and gives Sokka an accelerating shove, pushing him onwards towards Suki’s beckoning hands.

There’s no time left to worry.

Zuko sizes up the angle and the speed, closes his eyes, and leaps, reaching out with both hands and catching hold of the rope. He clings tight even as he’s dragged down, the rope burning his palms, but it’s only when he glances to the second trailing rope to his side that he lets out a sigh of relief.

Looks like the spirits didn’t get it wrong, because there’s Sokka, starting his ascent towards the airship with steely-eyed determination.

“Zuko! Come on! We have to climb!” Suki shouts at him, nodding towards the treeline in the distance that will knock them loose if they don’t move.

That’s easy. In fact, climbing the rope is the easiest thing he’s done in days.

He’s lost a battle and a war. He’s lived through the fear of not receiving Iroh’s forgiveness twice, even though he never had to worry about it once. He slept with Sokka pressed against him and managed not to betray his deep desire for him (while his body also miraculously didn’t give him away with other pressing evidence).

Those are difficult. They’re nearly impossible.

Scaling a rope? Child’s play – that is, if Ozai was your father and put you through some intense trials and tests as a child.

Still, it’s easy enough to climb over the edge, panting and catching his breath as Sokka follows and Suki cuts off a portion of the rope, testing the tautness between her hands. Zuko doesn’t want to move for ten seconds, wanting to bask in the relief of not dying.

They’re here. They’re on the ship.

They made it.

(And yet, the time on Zuko’s wrist ticks and ticks onward)

“What now?” he shouts above the wind.

Sokka’s got that look in his eye – the one that says he’s been thinking of a plan. “Zuko, you come with me to take control of the ships!”

“Why me?” Zuko shouts back, words nearly lost in the air. He should be here, fighting. He shoots Suki a confused look, but she’s too busy keeping an eye out.

It’s a pleasant sense of memory being here, the three of them, like Boiling Rock all over again. It feels right. Maybe this had been the trouble last time and now that they’ve figured it out, things are going to work.

“Because if they get a glimpse of the actual Fire Prince, we can use that moment of shock to get the upper hand!”

Zuko doesn’t correct him by saying that it won’t be shock at seeing the prince, but rather disbelief at the exiled son returning and fighting against his father. Does it matter? Shock is shock one way or the other, and it’ll be how they take control.

“Let’s go. Suki…?”

He doesn’t get a chance to ask if she’ll be okay. She’s already in a defensive position, fans out, watching the door. “Get control and figure out a way to make this a fair fight,” she says. “I’ll make sure we keep control of the engine room.”

“She’s not letting anyone past her,” Sokka says proudly. Zuko has to fight the surge of jealousy that rises in him, but given the way Sokka looks at him and holds a hand out, expectantly, it’s short-lived.

Zuko grabs hold, eyes flicking to the countdown, and remaining eternally relieved that there are hours left, not minutes. Whatever they’re counting towards isn’t imminent. There’s time to worry about it later.

Right now, he’s apparently got a surprise to mount.

“This way,” he instructs, giving Sokka a push at the small of his back to nudge him towards the control room, recalling the tours his father had given him – smug as ever, so pleased with the mechanism of the world’s defeat, stolen from the mind of a genius Water Tribe boy.

It fills him with a renewed need to take these things down for revenge, for Sokka, and even a little for himself.

They’re not big ships, and within moments, they’re back to back against the door. Zuko’s got his swords drawn and Sokka’s leading with the tip of the space sword near the handle. “You ready for this?” Sokka asks.

He spares a quick glance to the timer on his forearm. The marks keep ticking away, but they’ve got time and they’ve got a plan.

“Let’s go.”

Sokka rushes forward in a flurry of motion, first in the door with the sword pointed, his movements are smooth and stealthy. The people manning the airship don’t even notice, which feels extremely rude.

He clears his throat pointedly, getting the attention of all three men immediately.

Their attention and their shock.

“...Prince Zuko?”

Curse it all, Sokka had been right. It lasts just long enough for Sokka to strike with the hilt of his sword, knocking two men unconscious while Zuko puts a third into a sleeper’s hold.

“Well?” Sokka asks with a smug grin, though there’s something about it that’s shadowed in doubt. “Am I a genius strategist or what?”

It doesn’t take a genius to know that the last version of these events are hanging over Sokka’s head. Even Zuko can hear his father’s voice in his head as he twists and turns Sokka’s gifts into a curse.

One day, maybe Sokka will distance himself from those words.

Seeing as Zuko is still fighting his own mental battle against his father’s words, he’s no expert in how long that will take.

“You’re the smartest person I’ve ever known.”

“Liar,” Sokka says quietly.

“I’m not.” He knows Azula, he knows Mai, and of course he knows his father’s advisors. Even his Uncle Iroh. And yet, they’re cunning and wise and sharp and clever. Sokka is all of those things while being weird and odd and unique in ways they never could be.

Sokka is the kind of genius that doesn’t come around that often.

“Come on,” Zuko says, tearing his gaze away from Sokka when he realizes he’s been staring for too long. “We need to get these ships down. I could use another bright idea.”

When he looks back, Sokka hasn’t stopped staring. Why? Does he not believe Zuko? Is there something on his face? Or is he just that inspiring when it comes to suicidal plans?

“I have an idea.”

“Okay. Great.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

Zuko doesn’t like most things, but he tends to like a lot of things about Sokka. He likes his ideas and his determination. He likes his humor and his joy. He really, really, really likes his face. He’s not even going to talk about the other things.

And yet, the nervous bite of Sokka’s lip says that yeah, Zuko’s really not going to like this.

“...is it going to work?” he asks tentatively.

Sokka doesn’t answer. He grabs the comms device for the ship and shouts, “Hang on tight, Suki!”.

His answer is action – he takes the steering wheel and jams it all the way to the right, making Zuko lose his footing when the sharp turn the ship’s taken makes him slide into the wall. They’re nearly at a forty-five degree angle and seeing as they’d taken over the last ship in the line…

Zuko grapples to haul himself back up, grimacing as they keep losing altitude.

“You’re right,” he grimaces. “I don’t like it. I really hate this.”

He has to brace again when they collide with something. His stomach might be plummeting, but it’s working. They hit again, then again, and eventually again until there’s nothing left to hit.

Wait. That’s not true.

“How are we supposed to avoid the ground?” Zuko shouts, pressing both hands against the consoles that he’s stuck beside.

Sokka shoots Zuko an uncertain look. “...I didn’t think that through?”

“You’re supposed to be a genius! How could you not think about that part?”

There’s not much time left. He reaches to grab Sokka and hauls him into his arms as he uses the heel of his foot to brace them while Sokka presses his palms against the nearest wall. They’re chest to chest, tangled limbs, forming a single clumsy entity.

Zuko closes his eyes tightly, waiting for impact.

Any second now, it’s going to happen.

Zuko jolts when there’s a light bump. He braces, waiting for the real impact, but nothing comes. In fact, it seems like they’re just lightly swaying back and forth. Does he let go of Sokka? Definitely not.

There’s a moment when Sokka breathes against his neck and Zuko has to close his eyes, asking himself if he’s somehow still in a desperately lovely dream that he never wants to leave. That dream shatters, though, at the sound of Suki’s voice calling for them.

Reluctantly, he lets go of his hold on Sokka.

Sokka, making Zuko’s heart beat twice as fast, doesn’t move just yet. “I think we did it,” he shares, eyes bright as he grabs Zuko’s cheeks and holds tight.

Kiss me, Zuko pleads mentally. Please. I’ll give you anything. I’ll be anything for you. Just kiss me. Please.

Sokka’s gaze slips to Zuko’s lips and there’s a moment when the gods seem like they’re answering Zuko’s prayers. He drifts forward, his hands cupping Zuko’s neck as gently as if he’s holding a turtleduck.

He’s going to do it. He’s going to kiss him.

He’s going to…

“Quick! Hurry! I think we found Aang!”

Zuko’s not entirely sure who moves first. He’s pretty sure that he gives Sokka a listless push and that Sokka reaches for the wall to brace himself to exit at an angle, but it’s clear that neither of them wanted to go.

As for that almost kiss? Zuko’s going to be thinking about that for months.

Zuko pries himself out of the command hub, reaching gratefully for Suki’s hand to pull himself the rest of the way, stumbling over a few rocks that they’re wedged between, while sparks give off from the war balloon.

It’s the best surviving one, given the state of the others – or rather, what’s left of them, half in the sea and half crushed on the rocks.

And right in front of them, not destroyed or damaged at all, is the Avatar.

“Oh, hey guys,” Aang says, sitting in a cross-legged position beside Ozai – who has his head in his hands, stunned, and miserable.

Zuko doesn’t know what to make of any of this, but the sight of his father clearly defeated and yet, alive, fills him with a flood of relief and happiness that feels almost illegal to be experiencing.

“...is he…”

“Don’t worry, he can’t bend anymore,” Aang drops that revelation like it’s normal when it’s the furthest thing from it.

“...he what?” Sokka’s disbelieving shriek echoes what Zuko’s thinking. “...how!”

“The lion turtle showed me how.”

Sokka’s eyes are wide. “That answers none of my questions!”

“Don’t worry, Sokka, I’ll explain everything later,” Aang promises with a calm smile, and why shouldn’t he be pleased? He got his way. He defeated Ozai without having to kill him. Zuko’s still not sure if that’s the right decision, but right now, he’s too relieved that it’s over to care.

“Come on, we need to go find Katara and Toph, make sure that this is all over,” Aang says. “We can use your war balloon, right?”

“It won’t be a smooth ride, but yeah,” Zuko says, staring in disbelief at his father’s prone form. “You’re sure he’s not a threat anymore?”

“Pretty sure he’s still in shock over losing his firebending, but I’m going to make sure he can’t hurt anyone else.” There’s the steel that’s been missing. Aang isn’t taking this lightly, and that’s all Zuko needs to know to relax.

Sokka presses a hand to Zuko’s elbow, giving him a tentative smile. “Hey,” he says softly, as Aang gets Ozai to his feet and they head back to the war balloon. “I think maybe we did it.”

Zuko glances down at the tattoos on their arms.

There are still hours left. Maybe it means they just need to reunite with the others and yet, the pit of dread in Zuko’s stomach hasn’t gone away, remembering too well what happened the last time around. “Yeah,” he says roughly. “Maybe.”

Sokka gives him a look that says he knows he’s lying, but at least he doesn’t call him on it.

The next few hours are a blur to Zuko after they load everyone into the remaining airship, which they manage to get working again between Sokka’s ingenuity, a little firebending, Suki getting her hands dirty to get everything working, and Aang steering them to make up for what they broke.

The ships are down. Ozai has lost his bending. They won.

They won?

Zuko isn’t sure how to feel, especially with Caldera so far away and Azula’s fate in the balance. If she’s survived and holds onto the crown, then it may not matter what they’ve done. There’s every chance they’ve traded a King for a Lord, and between the two of them, he’s not sure that’s any better.

“Aang, do you think you can give us a little extra power to get us to Caldera?” Zuko asks, stoking the furnace with all he’s got.

Aang, having just finished securing Ozai with a pair of earthen cuffs, doesn’t waste a second in giving them the tailwind they need. “I’m sure they’re gonna be fine,” Aang says, but there’s an exhaustion around his eyes that says he might not believe it.

Ozai kneels there, slumped. Sokka’s at the bow of the ship, eagerly awaiting their arrival. That leaves Zuko with Aang’s forced optimism and he’s the worst person for it, because he has no idea what to do about it.

Worse, still, is when they arrive in the Fire Nation and from the moment the blimp touches down, Zuko knows that something isn’t right.

“Why is it so quiet?” Sokka asks as they approach.

Zuko isn’t sure. What he does know is that it doesn’t bode well, because as he enters the courtyard, Zuko begins walking on icicles that creak and crack beneath his feet. All around them is the smell of smoke and…

No. No. It can’t be.

Zuko knows that smell.

“Wait,” Zuko says, but it’s too late. Sokka’s already pushing forward towards the source of a soft sound, muffled sobs from somewhere in the corner. “Sokka…”

He’s ignored.

The way that memory works is strange, sometimes. In its fractured trauma, Zuko’s worst moments aren’t crystal clear in how they happened, but what had been obvious (and what never goes away) is how it felt when he broke. His father’s hand on his face, searing through skin made parts of him shatter and splinter in a way that he thinks he’s only now beginning to heal from.

Losing his mother felt like dropping a mirror onto the ground, the life he thought he knew shattering into a thousand pieces and never being able to stitch it back together to the way it used to be.

He doesn’t remember every second of those traumatizing moments, but he does remember the pain and how it had gutted him – how he’d wanted to sob and weep and howl until he was empty, because at least then he wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

That’s all he can think about when he arrives in the courtyard to find two limp bodies on the ground and a soaking wet Katara between them, crumpled into Sokka’s arms as she howls like a wounded animal, her body shivering and shaking uncontrollably.

“...Katara, what happened, what…”

Zuko isn’t paying attention, because the bodies – the corpses – on the ground pull him near. There, in front of him, so small and broken is Toph.

“S-she,” Katara sobs, wiping tears frantically from her cheeks. “She was defending me. I didn’t see what she was doing, she was trying to stop the lightning…”

Zuko stops listening as he approaches the second body.

It’s a ragdoll. The uneven black hair keeps the face covered and the clothes stick to the body thanks to the water soaking it fully. Bones are broken from the force of something, but who else would be here…

Who would…?

(He knows. Zuko knows. He can’t say it. He can’t think it. He can’t believe it)

“Zuko,” Katara sobs, “I…I didn’t even know what I’d done. I…”

Oh.

It’s not just a body. This is his sister. That’s Azula.

Zuko strains for a reaction that would make sense, but instead of the grief he hears in Katara’s voice or the shaken breaths as Sokka holds back tears, Zuko finds himself in a strange nebulous fog – the thickness of which keeps all his emotions at bay.

He feels nothing. No happiness, no relief, no sadness, no guilt, no agony. Nothing.

Is this what it had been like for Azula, all those years? Is this why their mother called her a monster? Zuko kneels before the body and reaches out to push away the bangs from her face, staring at his sister’s peaceful expression. This time, she’s not going to wake up and taunt him. This time, she’ll never wake up again.

“Zuko.” He doesn’t know who’s speaking to him. The voice is distant and tinny, almost like Zuko is losing hearing in his other ear, too.

He ignores it as he sags back against his heels, staring at the body. He takes her mangled hand in his and sits, staring forward, wondering when the emotions are going to sink in. When is reality going to hit?

He’s lost his family so many times before. It should feel different this time, shouldn’t it?

It should, simply, feel like something.

He waits. He kneels and waits. Hours pass, and Zuko doesn’t move, because he’s still waiting for the punch to land. No one has dared to try and take Azula’s body away from him. His knees ache, but he remains – frozen in time.

That’s how Sokka finds him.

“Hey,” Sokka murmurs, draping a blanket over Zuko’s shoulders as he kneels down beside him. He takes Zuko’s hands into his and gently tugs.

It’s a testament to how tired Zuko is that he simply falls into the pull. He collapses in Sokka’s lap, there beside his sister’s body, and only then does he notice that the timer on his arm is approaching its end.

“How’s Katara?” Zuko finds his voice, though rough and shaky.

“Not great. She’s pretty torn up over Toph. She feels guilty for not realizing what Azula was doing, but she also…” Sokka looks uneasily at Azula’s body, but his gaze fixes firmly on Zuko soon after. “She’s pretty messed up. She reacted on instinct and uh, I think she didn’t just use waterbending. She says it isn’t possible without the full moon, but…”

Bloodbending, thinks Zuko, staring at Azula’s crumpled body.

“Anyway, I keep telling her that it was just waterbending, but I’m not sure that helps,” is Sokka’s hushed confession. “Honestly, I’m a little scared of her. I’ve never seen water break bones like that before, the force she must have used was…” He catches himself, his face pale. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be making this worse for you.”

He’d thought about how he didn’t really know Azula. He’d thought about being in her shadow. And yet, has Zuko ever thought about a life without her? Even in their worst moments, he’d always imagined they’d always be struggling to nudge ahead of the other.

Never this.

Never…

“Why don’t I feel anything?” he asks quietly. “What’s wrong with me?”

Sokka’s fingers card through Zuko’s hair as he pulls him in, gripping him tightly. “What are you talking about? Nothing! There’s nothing wrong with you, Zuko, you’re grieving. You lost your sister. You’re not supposed to feel anything specific.”

“I don’t feel anything,” he reiterates. Surely that means he’s broken.

“Maybe you just can’t name it because it’s worse than anything you’ve felt before.”

Zuko doesn’t believe that’s true. Even with the absence of emotion, there’s the part he can’t even begin to consider – Toph.

Suddenly, he’d give anything to feel nothing.

The sickness rises so suddenly that he nearly humiliates himself by making a mess all over the ground. He thinks of the last time he saw her, that moment before they left, the way she’d been so confident.

“Toph. Toph, she…” His breath is coming too sharp, too fast. He’s going to be sick. His heart is going to stop. He feels like he’s going to die.

Why won’t the nothingness come back?

The world spins and Zuko feels like he’s somehow been removed from his body. He remembers the next few hours in spots and patches.

Someone comes to remove Toph’s body, covered in a shroud, flowers scattered over it and Zuko doesn’t move.

They talk about what they’re going to do with Azula’s body in hushed whispers, as if they’re almost scared of what will happen to them, but she’s dead. She can’t do anything. How could she?

(It never even occurs to Zuko that they might be talking about him)

Still, he doesn’t move.

At some point, he must have. It’s a blank, but one moment he’s kneeling in the courtyard and the next, he’s in his old bedroom and it’s night. Time hasn’t even considered that maybe Zuko doesn’t want it to keep charging forward.

Maybe he just wants to stop if only so he can figure out how he’s supposed to feel.

On the one hand, they’ve defeated Ozai and they’ve won. The Earth Kingdom remains standing, the so-called Phoenix King was never reborn, and they can embark on a new peaceful future.

It’s come at the price of his sister and one of his few friends, and Zuko doesn’t know how to mesh the feelings of victory and the abject grief washing over him. Sitting there on his bed, frozen in that indecision, time keeps ticking.

The moonlight spills in from the window, illuminating the strange tattoo on Zuko’s arm. It’s close to its end, now. Within a few minutes, it’s going to reach zero. Then what? Will he wake up tomorrow, an only child and a lonely Fire Lord, poised to rebuild his nation while planning a funeral for one of his few friends?

He misses Sokka. He wishes that he were still here, at his side, but he understands that he needs to be with Katara right now.

And Zuko?

Where is he supposed to be? His sister is gone. Toph is gone. He wants his Uncle. He wants Sokka. He wants someone to hold him and tell him that it’s going to be okay.

What he has, instead, is the moon. Glancing up through the window, thumb pressed to the edges of the calligraphy marks on his arm, Zuko keeps his eyes steady. “Is this what it was like?” he asks the moon, knowing who she is, what she’d done. “That you had to do something impossible, yet inevitable?”

There’s no answer.

Why would there be?

Zuko curls in on himself and holds tight. In the morning, there’ll be a nation to stand in front of and try and convince that things will be different. Tomorrow, he’s going to have to be a strong leader.

Tonight, he gets to be a scared and broken boy.

As exhaustion overtakes him and the time ticks down, Zuko gives himself the grace of allowing that weakness – just this once.

Falling asleep, he feels everything and nothing and he hates it all.

Chapter Text

They wake up together, again.

Sokka is shaking, and Zuko doesn’t know what to do. He feels paralyzed with their failure, and when he looks down at his wrist, the countdown has begun again. How can this be happening again? How can this get any worse? He’d thought being imprisoned with Sokka’s talents ready to be exploited for the Fire Nation had been bad enough, but now he has the charred smell of lightning-scorched skin in his nose and the image of Azula’s broken body behind his eyes and Toph …

“Hey losers! Wake up so we can eat breakfast already!”

“Toph,” Sokka sobs, proving that he’d been there too, he remembers.

Why is this happening? Who’s doing this to them? Why force them to live through the same day and remember like this? “I’m hugging her until she earthbends me into pieces,” Zuko says roughly, scrambling to his feet.

Sokka shoves him back down, with an elated, “Not if I get there first!” before he sprints away.

Zuko groans and pushes back to his feet, making it to the rest of the camp in time to see Toph blushing furiously as Sokka hugs her.

Honestly? He gets it. Sokka has a similar effect on him.

All that emptiness and the gaping void of his emotions from only a day ago evaporate the moment that Sokka relents his hold on Toph and lets Zuko hug her, just as tightly. She squirms in his hold, but seeing as she doesn’t flatten them into the ground, clearly she’s not too upset.

“Anyone wanna tell me why Idiot 1 and Idiot 2 are hugging me like they’ve never seen an earthbending prodigy before?”

Zuko drifts back, exchanging a wary look with Sokka. They’re back to this. Do they tell the others what they’ve lived through? The wraps on Sokka’s arms protect him from getting questions about the strange marks (reset to yet another impossibly vague number that doesn’t match either of the two times they’ve lived before), but Zuko’s not so lucky.

“...are you acting strangely because of this?” Aang asks, with a poke to the forearm.

Zuko eyes the mark, almost frightened to look at it, but Aang’s not giving him much of a choice as he manipulates his arm.

The countdown is almost the same as it had been for Toph, which only makes the pit of dread in his stomach increase tenfold. He catches Sokka’s eye, raising a brow to ask if they should talk about it, but Sokka’s only response is a defeated shrug.

“Sokka and I have been reliving events,” he says.

What does it matter if they think they’re crazy? This is all going to happen again and again and again. They’re just going to keep winning or losing, but the constant is that they’ll suffer.

“Events?” Katara echoes.

“We keep waking up on the same morning, and we go through the comet, and then after,” Sokka rambles, as Zuko is taking stock of the situation and watching everyone’s face carefully.

“That’s great!” Aang says joyfully.

“We promise that it’s really not,” Zuko says flatly, trying to get the image of his dead sister out of his head. For lack of a better word, there it is, burned indelibly, and whatever happens over the next few days won’t get it out.

Aang doesn’t seem to care. “You can tell us what happened! How we can win! We do win, right?”

“Sometimes,” Sokka says cautiously. Zuko can tell that he’s just as reluctant to explain what they’ve been living through. He’s going to give something away if he keeps looking at Toph, though, which leaves Zuko elbowing Sokka hard in the side. “Ow, monkey-balls,” he hisses. “Look, I don’t think we should tell you. It hasn’t worked out the way it should, even when we win. Something has to change.”

“If we knew, we could at least try to develop a new strategy,” Suki says, clearly trying to promote logic.

The trouble is, Zuko feels so worn down by emotion that even though he understands what she’s saying, it feels even worse to imagine an outcome that they potentially influenced and have it turn bad.

“No,” he says, cutting off whatever calm reply Sokka might offer. Of the two of them, clearly Zuko’s not the diplomat, but he’s tired and he’s grieving and he’s worn down.

There’s no strategy. They just have to get out.

“Zuko…” Katara starts, but Zuko doesn’t want to hear it.

“You can all strategize as much as you want. Sokka and I had to live through it. We know what happens, but I don’t want any of that to happen again. We tried strategy last time. We tried something new. It didn’t work.”

He fights so hard not to look at Toph, but his heart is racing, so obviously she knows something’s wrong. Then again, Zuko’s not exactly being subtle here. Pretty much anyone in the Fire Nation could tell.

Aang looks disappointed. Katara is annoyed. Suki is worried.

Toph is, well, she’s dubious. Clearly, she’s not buying this.

“We just want to help,” Katara’s words are turning sharper. “I thought we were friends now. I thought we were a team.”

Not like that’s helped us so far, he thinks, but can’t say the words. “Maybe I’m just trying to protect you. That’s what Sokka wants,” he says, knowing without looking at him. “It’s what I want too. Whatever is going on, it’s about us. You guys don’t have the mark. We appreciate the help,” he gets out, “but it’s for us to figure it out.”

That’s about all he can muster up, feeling his emotions turning towards the irritable. Best to leave now, before he makes the situation worse. Zuko heads down to the beach where he can still see the group out of the corner of his eye, where Sokka’s stayed behind.

Sokka’s gesticulating a lot, emphatically explaining something.

Whatever it is, eventually even he gives up and joins Zuko, collapsing on his stomach in the sand by Zuko’s things.

“They don’t understand,” Sokka says. “Honestly, I’m not sure I understand. Why don’t we let them help us? We’re better together! Five brains are better than one!”

Unless you’re Azula, Zuko thinks, and then it’ll take ten brains to make the same claim. Thoughts of his sister bring back the nausea rising in his gut and he remembers all too well why.

“I need the only person responsible for my fate to be me.”

He can’t bear the guilt of letting them down and not succeeding with their plans. He can’t lose like that. He’s not sure he can bear it.

Zuko’s not sure how he’s bearing it now.

Once it’s clear that the others are planning to let them be – still shooting them increasingly dubious and annoyed looks, Zuko turns his attention to the one constant that’s been on their side through this torture – the numbers on the strange tattoo on his arm keep ticking down.

It’s this smooth, unexplained, mysterious motion that strikes Zuko with a terrible idea. There are days left before the numbers reach zero, but if there’s some higher power that’s intent on screwing with them, then Zuko’s not about to sit there and let it happen.

“Sokka, give me my swords.”

Sokka, clearly tired from trying to explain it to the others, has enough energy left in the tank for suspicion.

“Why?”

“Because if we keep restarting according to their clock, then I’m going to do something about it!”

He recognizes the feeling pulsing through him, which isn’t a good thing. It’s the same feeling he gets before he lets his anger take over in a fight. It’s the feeling when he dares the storm to strike him. The same one he felt when he decided to hold his breath and see where the current took him.

Generally, it’s been luck that’s kept him alive – not strategy.

Sokka seems to sense the shift in the air around them. “I don’t think I should,” he says warily, grabbing them to hold them away.

“I’m tired of letting the timer tell me when time is up! It’s my turn!”

“And what happens if your time is up permanently?” Sokka snaps at him, eye twitching slightly as he hisses the words, keeping his voice down so the rest don’t hear them and think they’ve gone crazy. “What happens if you take one of these swords to your heart and that’s it. You’re done. Aang isn’t there yet with his firebending and you know it. We stop Ozai because he learns some freaky new technique, but he still needs you. The Fire Nation needs you.”

There’s a moment of silence in Sokka’s rant, just one, as he falters.

And then, softer and gutted, he adds, “Maybe I need you.”

Zuko isn’t sure that he’s convinced, but he’s willing to let it go for Sokka’s sake. “Don’t say I didn’t try,” he mutters, allowing himself to be stubborn and grumpy for a few more seconds before he throws himself back into the metaphorical river to let the stream carry him onward to the inevitable.

Because that’s exactly how it goes. Nothing changes. Everything happens the same as it always has when it comes to this sequence of events.

Zuko wakes up and the dread sinks in when he hears Katara’s panic.

Aang’s missing – again.

The comet is coming – again.

They’re going to have to live through it – again.

If Sokka won’t let him take a sword to his chest and end it, then maybe he’ll let them take action. “This time, we won't go find Iroh,” he says when he goes to wake up Sokka in his tent, shocking him once he’s barely awake.

“What?”

“We go find Aang.”

Sokka’s staring at him like he’s crazy. “We tried that, remember? Not of this world? Or whatever June had to say in that super-hot way of hers?” Zuko tamps down the flare of jealousy (not now) but Sokka’s not done. “Besides, we just need a new plan. Maybe this time Katara and I will go with you to Caldera and …”

“And leave the blind girl with Suki to take out the war balloons?” Zuko asks dubiously. “I’m telling you. We know that Aang is off with some lion turtle. We know where he ends up. Are you telling me that you can’t be Detective Sokka with all the clues at our disposal?”

He’s baiting Sokka. Sokka absolutely knows it.

It’s only going to take a little more of a push, and Zuko is more than happy to give it. “What if this time, we can make it work? What if we get past all of this? Maybe the lion turtle knows something we don’t.”

Sokka still doesn’t look happy (then again, he’s mastered the art of the pragmatic lip-press), but he huffs out a sharp, “Fine. How are we going to convince the others?”

“Exactly like that,” Zuko insists. “I know the White Lotus have other things to do, but if we’re not there, we force their hand to take out the war balloons and leave Suki, Katara, and Toph to go face Azula.”

“You really think Katara’s going to let us go off on our own?” Sokka scoffs. “It’s Aang. She’s going to insist.”

“...so maybe we don’t do any convincing at all and we just go.”

Sokka clearly isn’t happy with this plan, but if he’s not going to let Zuko die by the sword (literally), then he has to give Zuko something.

“We have to change something,” Zuko argues heatedly. “Please, Sokka.”

Sokka digs both hands into his hair as he stares skywards, almost like he’s hoping that he’ll look up and that’s where Aang will be. “Fine,” he says with a whine. “Aang told us the lion turtle dropped him off on shore, right? We know how long he was missing…”

He reaches behind him for a stick, drawing some convoluted images in the ground that Zuko absolutely doesn’t recognize. They’re not numbers, letters, or pictures, but a combination of all three.

“We found him just outside the Wulong forest when the ships went down…”

He waits impatiently, but finally, Sokka seems to come to a conclusion.

“Okay. Fine,” he says. “We’ll sneak out tonight with the war balloon. I don’t know exactly where he is, but I think I know where he’ll end up. We can track backwards from there and try to find a creature that’s not supposed to even exist.”

“See?” Zuko says, giving Sokka a gentle nudge as he tries to be optimistic. “Easy!”

Sokka’s withering glare tells Zuko how off the mark he is. None of this has been easy, Zuko gets it, but maybe he needs to pretend it is for at least one day. If their fate is to be beaten down again and again, then he’ll take it. He’s used to it.

Watching Sokka suffer is a new level of torture that Zuko’s not sure he wants to get used to.

“You know,” Sokka says. “We could have just tied him up. Then he would’ve been stuck with us.”

Zuko had thought of that, too. “No. He still needs to go missing. Whatever he learns on that thing, he still needs that knowledge. This time, we just get to him first. We find my father, then we get back to the Fire Nation to face Azula. We’re not stopping things. We’re just .. accelerating them,” he finishes weakly.

Sokka sighs, but he’s already packing his things. “For the record, I don’t like this idea,” he says. “There’s too many unknown variables.”

“You complain constantly about any ideas that aren’t yours,” Zuko replies, unable to help the way he feels light and airy. If things hadn’t been so tense, he might even say that he’s flirting.

And why not? Sokka’s going to let them try and change things. They’re going to find Aang. Maybe this time, everyone will be in the right place and they can stop it.

“Usually because I get proven right,” Sokka scowls and whines, but he shoves his bag at Zuko. “Go get the balloon ready, we want to get out of here quickly before they realize what we’re doing.”

“They’ll forgive us,” Zuko says, though he’s not that confident in his statement.

“Or,” says Sokka darkly, “if this doesn’t work, they’ll just forget it.”

It’s a chilling reminder of their situation that Zuko doesn’t want to think about. He spares a quick glance at his arm despite it being covered by his sleeves, feeling the weight of the mark as if the spiritual ink weighs as much as a polar dog. It’s a good reminder to get moving. The last thing he wants to do is explain his plan to the others, so he uses all his grace and stealth to get the war balloon unmoored and ready for their departure without anyone finding out.

Sokka arrives soon after sunset with their bags, still looking uncertain. “I still think we should stick together.”

“Maybe next time,” Zuko lobs off, proving that Sokka’s not the only one who can be flippant about the situation they’re in.

He keeps the fire low as they leave the beach. Even with the cover of darkness, he doesn’t want to get them caught, so until they’re near the horizon, he makes sure they glide barely above the sea. The night has just fallen and as Zuko does quick calculations, he figures that they only have a few days to find Aang.

It can’t be too soon or Aang won’t learn what he’s meant to. Too late, and this whole exercise is for nothing.

“How long until the timer runs out?” Zuko asks Sokka.

He knows he’s done the math. Zuko’s been trying to ignore it, but he knows Sokka can’t.

“Close to last time,” Sokka says quietly. “I’m not sure that bodes well.”

It puts them in the Fire Nation for the time to elapse. Zuko wants to believe that the time will simply run out and they’ll keep living, but after the two versions of events they’ve lived through, he can’t help wondering what awful new torture awaits them.

It’s days away at this point – too far to think about.

Zuko keeps them over the water, if only because Sokka’s math had worked out that Aang had come from that direction in Wulong. There’s no map, but Sokka seems confident as he directs them onwards into the night.

For the first few hours, they travel in silence. Sokka sketches. Zuko steers. They don’t converse. Zuko still feels tense about running away like they did, and he can tell Sokka is trying to distract himself because it’s better than facing the possibility that this plan doesn’t work.

Zuko’s desperate for it to work, too. He just isn’t sure how realistic that is when it removes them from controlling so much of the outcome.

Instead of dwelling on that, he decides to shift the conversation.

“The last time we were in this thing, you told me that your girlfriend turned into the moon.”

Sokka, his chin perched on the edge of the balloon, staring up at said moon, smiles sadly. “Yeah.” He glances over his shoulder, and all that moonlight makes him look like the most handsome and untouchable thing Zuko’s ever seen.

Good work, Yue.

“Do you think she’s in this with us?” Sokka asks. “Looping through the past?”

“I hope not. I hope no one else is enduring this other than us,” Zuko says roughly, stoking the fire to keep them going – while always keeping one eye over the edge of the ship to monitor the distance between them and the ocean below.

Sokka’s quiet for a long moment, but when Zuko chances a look, he sees that it’s only because Sokka is staring at him pensively.

“What?” he asks, flushing to the tips of his ears.

“I think she’d be glad I had you through this,” Sokka admits quietly. “That I’m not alone and that I found someone else so much like her.”

“I’m nothing like her,” he protests.

Sokka presses his lips, but eventually, his patience runs out. “Right,” he says sarcastically, “I have no idea how a royal obsessed with doing their duty and serving their family against their best wishes can possibly be something I run into more than once. Or someone who stubbornly puts themselves on the line to defend others. Nope. No clue where I would see that.”

Zuko’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire, which has nothing to do with the work he’s doing to keep them afloat. That’s all Sokka.

“I’m pretty happy that you’re here with me too,” Zuko manages, his voice soft. “If I had to keep looping through these horrible days, you’re the only person I want with me. Sokka, I…” There’s something he’s wanted to tell him for so long, but it doesn’t feel right. It feels like putting too much on their plates.

Still, the urge to tell him that Sokka means the world to him and he thinks he’s a little in love with him is right there.

“Yeah, Zuko?” Sokka asks, bright and hopeful and beautiful.

“I’m just really glad that no matter what we’re trying, you and I are going to do it together.”

Because that’s the only thing that’s getting Zuko through these nightmares. It’s that he gets to do it at Sokka’s side.

“Maybe this time, it’ll work,” Sokka scoffs. “I think I’m running out of ideas of what else we can try. Your Dad doesn’t eat a bad diet or anything, does he? I was thinking maybe next time, if there is a next time, we feed him really unhealthy food and see if we can make him have a heart attack before he can go all Phoenix King.”

“We could always just tell him that I’ve done something he’d be proud of,” Zuko deadpans. “That’d definitely do something to his health, for the shock of it.”

“Hey,” Sokka says, scooting over in the balloon to take hold of Zuko’s free hand with both of his. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Fine. It might be true, but Ozai is still an idiot. For not recognizing his son’s strengths alone, he’s definitely not fit to rule the nation. Imagine what else he’s overlooking.”

It’s not the first time that someone has judged his father. It’s just that usually, they’re doing it because of his heinous war crimes or his cruelty or his terrible interior decorating choices. Zuko thinks this is the first time that anyone, outside of Uncle Iroh, has called him unfit because of Zuko.

“I’m glad we’re not back in that first loop,” Zuko says with a sharp bitterness in his tone. “It would have killed me to see him take advantage of your brain and your skills. He would have never given you credit, either. He would have just used you.”

Sokka’s face has gone steely. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to talk about it, but Zuko’s not sure he can keep pretending that what happened just doesn’t exist because they started all over again.

“I wouldn’t have wanted credit,” Sokka says calmly, but there’s something that Zuko recognizes behind his careful words.

It’s rage.

“I’m not saying it like that,” Zuko rushes to insist. “I just mean…”

“You were trying to give me a compliment,” Sokka cuts him off. “I get it.”

Clearly, Zuko’s failed on that front. “Sokka,” he says quietly. “I would have gotten us out. We would have found the others. It didn’t have to end like that.” If Sokka had been willing to fight, he doesn’t say, but that’s what he needs right now. He needs the Sokka that’d been determined to take on a whole Fire Nation ship with just his boomerang.

He needs that boy’s confidence and drive.

“It reset. So we don’t have to think about that.”

“Right,” Zuko agrees. “We can focus on this instead.”

There’s a tension in the air between them, but Zuko’s pretty certain that it’s not him that Sokka is mad at. Zuko just scratched the surface and let all these wounds that have been shoddily patched up rise to the surface, and now he’s paying the price for revealing the truth.

Out of an abundance of caution, Zuko opts to focus on their journey and keeping the balloon afloat, steadying his breathing to keep his firebending consistent. He spends hours doing this, but soon the balloon starts to dip only to sharply rise when Zuko catches himself drifting off.

It seems Sokka’s noticed (how could he not, given how bumpy the ride’s getting?)

“Hey,” Sokka says. “You need to sleep.”

“Not unless I want us to crash,” Zuko mumbles.

“Light a torch. I’ll keep us afloat.”

Zuko wants to stay in control. He wants to keep the balloon going because at least it will feel like he’s doing something, but every time he thinks he can manage, he starts listing to the side. Reluctantly, he lights a torch and hands it to Sokka.

“You’ll wake me up after three hours,” he demands. That’s it. That’s the deal. If Sokka does that, then Zuko will relent and go to sleep.

Sokka moves into Zuko’s space to take over, giving him a dubious look. “You can take over again when you wake up.”

Zuko still isn’t convinced. He hems, he haws, and he gives Sokka an uncertain look until something clearly breaks in Sokka. He shifts and places himself where he can rest one hand to keep the torch alight, but gives a bunch of space in the balloon.

“Fine,” he sighs and pats his thighs. “Come here.”

Neither of them say it out loud, but the truth is that they’ve both learned they sleep so much better when they’re curled up with one another. Zuko doesn’t need a blanket, but he digs one out of his pack anyway to make sure that as he lies down with Sokka, they both have enough warmth.

“Better?” Sokka teases.

Zuko grunts, avoiding his gaze as he settles in. His eyes are so heavy that it’s going to be mere moments before he’s asleep. “Better,” he echoes, through a yawn.

He doesn’t really remember how long it takes him to fall into a dreamless sleep. When he rouses, the sun is up and they’re still over the water. Sokka’s clearly fighting to stay awake, the torch starting to slip, and Zuko realizes that it’s the jostling that woke him up.

“Trade,” Zuko demands.

“But I,” Sokka begins, yawning, “still have…”

“Eat, then it's your turn to sleep.”

Sokka whines a little more, but he digs through the bag for breakfast, handing half of the jerky to Zuko, demolishing the other half himself. Before Zuko can even ask if he’d seen anything while Zuko slept, the sound of snoring permeates the war balloon.

Zuko’s irritation is short-lived. They’re both exhausted. They’ve both lived far too many days. If this little adventure means they have to loop again, but they both catch up on sleep, then maybe that’s the point of it.

It continues like this. Zuko searches for meaning in why this keeps happening. He watches the numbers tick down on his arm. He keeps the balloon afloat. He sleeps on Sokka’s warm thighs. He wakes up and tries to hide the evidence of how much he likes doing exactly that.

It’s almost peaceful, in its monotonous rhythm.

Then, the routine breaks.

“Zuko…”

“What?” He’s so tired. He’s spent days trading off shifts with Sokka, keeping this war balloon moving, all for nothing.

(Though, is it nothing? Every night, Sokka’s fallen asleep with his head against Zuko’s thigh and it’s been one of the few things that have given him true solace in years. He’s going to lose it again. If living through all this has taught him anything, it’s that he’s just going to keep losing)

He rubs a hand over his eyes, fuelling the fire as Sokka leans dangerously out of the balloon.

Never mind using the swords to end his life. If Sokka keeps teetering on the edge like that, he’ll find plenty of success falling to his doom.

“Look!” he says, and hauls back into the balloon to yank at Zuko’s robes. “That island down there.”

He sees it. There’s lush trees, sandy beaches, and right now, it looks like a nice place to take a nap. “Okay?”

“Zuko, it’s moving, look,” Sokka says, a little more insistently. “Quick! We have to touch down!”

Thank the stars and everything else in the sky. Thank Yue. Maybe this is her blessing them with a reprieve. Zuko wants to fall to his knees the minute the war balloon touches down. He can stop worrying about keeping them in the air. He can stop thinking about the soft touch of Sokka’s hands on his and wondering if he’ll ever work up the nerve to do anything about it.

(That can’t be what all this looping is about, and yet, there’s a part of Zuko’s mind that wonders – what if?)

His troubles ease even further when suddenly, there’s Aang, walking out of the forest like nothing’s the matter.

“Oh! Hey guys!” He looks a bit lost, but his gaze slides down to their forearms. “Did your spirit marks tell you I’d be here?” He looks back to the slowly receding island, like he’s looking for confirmation.

Zuko opens his mouth to explain, but doesn’t have time when the storm that is Sokka swoops in. “We have to go,” he says sharply.

So this is the nightmare of Schedule Master Sokka that Zuko had heard so much about.

“Okay,” Aang says, too eagerly and easily. He makes up for it a moment later. “You know I’m not going to kill Ozai, right?”

“You can make flower crowns with him for all I care!” Sokka says, yanking at Aang’s robes. “We just have to go!”

There’s a strange enemy lurking in Zuko’s chest that he doesn’t know how to name. Is this hope? Is there a sense that what they’re doing might actually work out? He knows it’s too early to claim victory, but it feels promising with Aang here, having learned what he needed to, and with a war balloon to take them where they need to go.

“No offense, but I think I’m faster without you,” he says, eyes skirting between Sokka and Zuko. “Since it sounds like time’s pretty short?”

“Go,” Zuko agrees. “Just leave some kind of trail and we’ll follow as fast as we can. We need to deal with Ozai and get you to the Fire Nation before…” He doesn’t have the strength to say ‘before something bad happens’, but he’s pretty sure it’s all over his face.

Luckily, Aang seems to get the picture.

“We’re going to stop this, Zuko,” Aang says. “I promise.”

“You can’t promise that,” Zuko says wearily. “We’re not in control of our own destiny.”

Aang kicks his glider and spreads the wings. “Maybe I don’t believe that,” he says, because he has the luxury to say that, when he hasn’t had to live through multiple horrible versions of this day.

Then, he’s off. He’s not careless, but there’s something settled in him. Whatever it is that he discovered on that lion turtle clearly has done wonders for his mind. It cements Zuko’s belief that no matter how many times they go through this day, this has to be one of the fixed pieces of it.

No matter what, they have to let Aang go missing.

“Come on,” Sokka says sharply. “This whole plan is just some selfish diversion if we don’t hurry up.”

He doesn’t have to tell Zuko twice, but urgency is something they desperately possess, but can’t do much about. No matter how much Zuko wants to increase their pace, Sokka’s invention has a fixed speed. It means that no matter how much Zuko stokes the flames (and he does, so much, to the point that he nearly singes their eyebrows off at some point), they still arrive to the great battle between Aang and Ozai just as Ozai is falling to his knees.

It’s a shame. Zuko would have really liked to see the moment that Ozai realized he lost.

If he has to endure this nightmare, he could use a couple of good memories throughout it all.

“Ha!” Sokka crows as he leaps out of the balloon. He’s clearly eager to taunt Ozai, and Zuko doesn’t blame him. “Look who’s not so powerful now? Look who’s on his knees?” he spits at him sharply. “How do you like that feeling? You’re going to be locked away. You’re going to rot there.”

Zuko understands exactly why Sokka feels this way. He holds Sokka by the shoulder to prevent him from actually kicking Ozai while he’s down (not because Zuko wants to protect his father, but because he doesn’t trust his father and if Sokka gets too close, he might break his leg or bite him until he bleeds to death)

Aang seems concerned with Sokka’s display of fury, but Zuko wants to focus them on something much more important – what comes next.

“Aang,” Zuko says tentatively. “Could you do that again?”

It’s not a good idea that’s bubbling up against his lips, but he thinks it might at least prevent something terrible from happening. Zuko tugs Sokka away from Ozai, watching as members of the White Lotus that he doesn’t recognize approach from what looks to be a fallen war balloon.

Well, at least that part of the plan seems to have worked. Maybe this is the time it all works. Maybe Zuko’s idea isn’t so crazy.

Aang looks uncertain, staring at Zuko like he’s trying to puzzle out what he’s about to ask for. “How many times?” he asks, which tells Zuko that he’s clearly figured out where he’s going with this.

“Ozai is one piece on the board, but you know Azula’s just as dangerous. I don’t … I’m not sure she’s all there, either,” he says, avoiding Sokka’s sharp gaze. He’s not about to explain why he knows that, obviously. “Can you take her bending away, temporarily?”

She’s not like his father. Not really. She just needs to be disarmed and get some help and then, maybe, Zuko thinks they could give it back to her.

Aang looks exhausted, but it’s Aang. There’s still a determined and optimistic spark in his eyes as he reaches out to grab Zuko’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I think I can try,” he promises.

“Zuko,” Sokka says warningly.

Zuko doesn’t want to talk about it. He ignores Sokka, instead guiding Aang back to the war balloon, asking if he’s okay to steer given Zuko’s exhaustion.

Sokka clearly isn’t ready to be ignored. “Zuko,” he hisses and grabs at his hand to yank him back. “What are you thinking?”

“That Azula is dangerous,” he snaps back. “You saw what happened last time to Toph. What happened to her! If we get there in time, then Aang can take that away and maybe everyone gets to live.” Why doesn’t Sokka see that? How can he be so blind?

Sokka stares at him wildly. “You want to take away the thing that Azula is best at,” he says sharply. “What’s that going to do to her?”

“It’ll let her live!”

“It’ll take away everything that matters to her.” There’s a broken crack in Sokka’s passionate defense, and Zuko wonders how much of this is personal. What’s been taken away from Sokka that his identity got shaken to the core this badly? Why can’t he see the logic of what Zuko is saying?

“She’ll be alive.”

“She’ll wish she wasn’t.”

“We’ll figure that out later, if we even survive,” Zuko says, and yanks his hand out of Sokka’s hold. “Please. We have to try something new. Right? Isn’t that what we keep saying?”

Sokka’s not convinced. Zuko wishes that there’s another way, but he knows there’s not. They’re trying new things, right? Why not this one?

“I don’t like it,” he says quietly.

“Please,” Zuko says, just as softly.

“Fine,” Sokka says. “She’s your sister. Let her be pissed with you.”

Zuko knows he’s tired when he gives in to his weaker impulses and surges forward to hug Sokka as tightly as he can. Here, protected in Sokka’s arms, he feels like the rest of the world can melt away. “I want the time to get her back, properly, and I need her alive for that.” Half of what he’s said is mumbled in Sokka’s neck, lost forever.

It doesn’t matter. Sokka agrees and they’re quickly on their way, following Aang’s trail.

Sokka stays silent the whole journey, which is a challenge for him. He must be punishing Zuko, but given that Zuko keeps obsessively watching over his shoulder and onwards to the horizon for what awful thing is about to happen, he barely notices.

It can’t be this easy. Can it?

All they did was join up with Aang and hurry him along. Did they even save time? Or had it all been Zuko trying to avoid responsibility and Sokka allowing him to do it?

Landing just outside the palace, he thinks that it’s time to find out.

“Come on,” he says, holding out a hand to Sokka. Sokka doesn’t take it, stubborn to the last. “Come on,” Zuko says, a little sharper. “Maybe they dealt with Azula and she’s locked away safely. Maybe Aang won’t need to do anything.”

He doubts it, but he has to give Sokka some kind of hope.

It feels a little like maybe he needs that hope himself, because something feels wrong about the palace.

There’s a stillness to the air that he’s never felt before. When they’d arrived here to find Toph and Azula dead, it felt like the air had still been crackling with lightning and sediment. It felt chaotic and alive.

Now, it feels … cold. Cold and still, given the lack of movement he can see. Where is everyone?

The ever-ticking clock on his arm tells him that whatever they’re walking into is going to come to an end. That only makes Zuko worry more. He reaches out to grab hold of Sokka’s sleeve, trying to get him to stop because he has a terrible feeling of what they’re going to find, but it’s too late.

Sokka’s running for the palace, breaking the stillness and the silence as he shouts for Katara, for Toph, for Suki.

Then, relief. “Here!” Suki calls. “We’re here!” She’s just around the corner. Zuko is so close, he can catch up. He can get there. They can make this day work. Maybe it will all work out, maybe it …

Hope, whatever little bit he’s been carrying, is never long-lasting for Zuko.

The moment he arrives in the courtyard, hope vanishes when it’s pierced with an anguished scream of inhuman grief.

“No,” Zuko exhales. “No, not Toph, not again, not…” He’s running, faster than he’s ever run before, but when he clears the corner, he sees Toph standing in the corner looking smaller than he’s ever seen her before.

Suki had called back to them, so what…

Zuko’s eyes track across the courtyard and sees something that’s going to haunt him forever. He sees Sokka’s body give out like a rag doll as he collapses to the ground. Beside him, Zuko can see Aang delicately covering a body with a shroud, his eyes wet with tears – shell-shocked, but gripping his hands tightly like he’s trying to stop himself from doing something stupid.

No.

Please, no.

That sound had been Sokka. The figure on the ground is a body. Only one person could make Sokka and Aang react like that.

“No,” Zuko exhales, the word punched out of him as the breath evaporates from his lungs.

“She was protecting us,” Suki says to Zuko. There’s a lifeless exhaustion in her eyes, as if she’s lived two decades in the last few hours. “Azula tricked Toph and made her think she was somewhere else using the echoes in the courtyard. She was about to use her lightning against me…”

Zuko’s eyes drift down to the metal fans, knowing exactly what would have happened if they’d made contact.

“Katara tried, she tried so hard, but she couldn’t waterbend in time, so she put herself in the path. The lightning, it just…”

All that work to find Aang. All that planning to figure out how to do this without any casualties. Zuko feels grief piercing his chest, but there’s one thing he needs to know before he lets the swell overtake him.

“...Azula?” he asks, searching for the body.

“Toph was able to knock her out,” Suki says. “I uh, I tried some of your friend’s tricks after we got the handcuffs on her. I’m not sure they worked, but I’m hoping I’ve managed to disrupt her bending, at least until she’s safely in a prison.”

Locked away, but alive.

He realizes, then, that he hasn’t stopped looking at Sokka. He’s been cradling Katara’s body in his arms, weeping, cupping her cheeks as if he can get her to wake up – as if she’s only dreaming.

He stays away. He waits. Eventually, Suki goes to him and kisses his temple as she whispers something in his ear. Zuko fights the sting of jealousy as Sokka nods heavily, agreeing to whatever it is Suki’s suggested.

(He has to quiet the voice that whispers that of course he listens to Suki, of course he’d do anything for her)

It seems that Suki’s suggestion had been to allow someone to come and take Katara’s body. As Suki works with Toph to move the shrouded body, she catches his eye, nodding towards Sokka.

‘Help him,’ she mouths, which is a tall order.

How can Zuko help Sokka? His awful, terrible, horrific plan had been the reason they hadn’t been here to help. He has a hand in this, and isn’t that exactly what he’d been trying to avoid?

Slowly, Zuko approaches Sokka, who hasn’t moved from his grieving state. Zuko has seen Sokka broken. He’s seen him defeated. He’s seen him quiet and serious and mature for everyone else’s sake.

That’s not this Sokka.

Silently, Zuko kneels beside Sokka, resting a palm on his shoulder to get his attention. He doesn’t offer condolences or guilt or explanation. There’s nothing to be said, because Sokka doesn’t want anything other than his sister at this moment. How can he?

So Zuko offers what he can – his presence.

“Why?” Sokka pleads, grabbing at Zuko’s sleeves.

His fingers don’t grab hold and Sokka stumbles forward, slamming his palms into Zuko’s chest to catch himself and to let out some of the anger.

“Why her? Why did they have to take my sister? She was everything I had left of my Mom. She’s my baby sister.” His hands shake against Zuko’s chest and there’s a raw redness to Sokka’s eyes through the tears. “I was supposed to protect her. Zuko, how am I supposed to tell my Dad that I…that I…”

Sokka stares up at him in a state of frozen panic, tears cascading down the grit on his cheeks.

Here, at this angle, Zuko can see the timer on Sokka’s arm. It’s still counting. It’s still moving. Soon, it will be zero.

He says nothing.

He’s not sure there’s anything that will make Sokka feel better right now. Even waking up to see Katara again won’t fix this moment. Zuko can’t even say that he understands. When he’d seen Azula’s body, he hadn’t thought of the ways he could’ve protected her better.

He’d just felt a strange sense of nothing.

Maybe that’s worse than Sokka’s heart wrenching grief.

“They took everything,” is a wounded whimper. Zuko barely hears it. The gravity of the grief has bowed Sokka in half, sending him to his knees.

What’s worse – that Zuko has been in the same situation? Maybe the guilt that he hadn’t felt like this? Or worst of all, faced with a mad sister and a defeated father, with the nation’s future on his shoulders, the only thing he cares about is Sokka.

He sets a knee down in the dust, collecting Sokka into his arms and pulling him in tightly, his chin on Sokka’s messy hair.

“It’s okay,” he promises. “It’s okay.,” he says, even though it’s not and unless Katara comes back, it never will be. “I’m here. I’m always going to be here.”

“I don’t want you,” Sokka lashes out, even though he doesn’t fight Zuko’s arms. He lets Zuko hold him tightly as they collapse to the ground, with Sokka’s tears soaking through Zuko’s robes. “I want my sister. I want Katara. I,” he says, inhaling sharply. “I want to stop losing.”

There’s only minutes now. Minutes until the time runs out. Zuko has to spare the hope he has left as he whispers prayers to the gods that this won’t be the last time. This can’t be how it ends.

Don’t they deserve a happier ending? Don’t they deserve some peace after the way they’ve suffered?

“You’re going to get her back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t, but I believe it anyway,” Zuko says, as the timer reaches its last minute. He can’t promise that he can fix this, but he can hold him and wait as the time runs out. “The world can’t be that cruel.”

His whole life, he’s endured nothing but cruelty from his sister and father, from his nation, from so many people he’s come across.

Still, he can’t believe it would do this to Sokka, and so, it can’t be their new reality.

“We’re going to win, Sokka,” he says. “Next time, we play for keeps.”

Zuko’s tired of losing too. He’s ready to tell the spirit world to shove it up their ass. Whatever lesson that they’re supposed to learn shouldn’t have to come at this high of a price. So, next time? Zuko’s going to make sure that they win, no one gets hurt, and that it sticks.

They deserve it. They deserve a peaceful tomorrow.

Zuko’s ready to kill as many people as he has to to make that happen.

Chapter Text

This time, when they wake up, Zuko doesn’t wait to cling to Sokka.

“Sokka,” he whispers, his fingers shaking as he reaches out to hold him, scared and terrified, carved hollow with a grief that wants to fill him with all the torturous things he’s been living through.

And yet, here’s Sokka. Here he is, and their arms are marked again and they get another chance. Zuko is tired of failing. He’s tired of losing people. He’s also tired of hiding what he really wants.

“She’s alive. Katara is alive. She’s okay.” He knows he has to take Sokka to see her as soon as possible, but he selfishly needs to hold onto him right now because he’s the only tie to reality that Zuko really believes in. “It’s okay,” he says, and this time he’s relieved that it can be true.

At least, to a degree.

How can things really be okay when some spirits-damned entity is messing with them and making them relive the same awful fight, again and again? Sokka is still dead-eyed as he sits up, glancing at his arm, seeing the mark renewed, and then resolutely covering it with one of his wraps.

“Sokka, I…”

“Not right now,” Sokka cuts him off quietly. Once he’s tugged on his shirt and the other wrap is in place, he leaves Zuko and heads for the house.

There’s no need to ask where he’s going. Zuko already knows that he’ll be confusing Katara with his strange mood, and that he’s not likely to leave for a very long time.

Staring down at the tattoo, Zuko decides that he doesn’t want to bother explaining it this time. Sokka had covered his, which means that if Zuko keeps his hidden, then they can at least avoid an exhausting conversation about how useless they’ve been. He needs to follow Sokka, if only to prove to himself that Katara is okay, but he’s not sure he’s ready yet.

He’s always been a bad liar. How is he supposed to sit there and stare at his friends, knowing what they look like when they’re beaten and broken and bruised? When they’ve faced the worst things they could possibly imagine? When they’re helpless? When they’re dead.

When Zuko does force himself to breakfast, Sokka isn’t there. He tries to sit at the edges, and doesn’t ask Katara whether Sokka’s already come to see her. Instead, he sits and eats and lets their jibes and comments wash over him like water running over a river’s stones.

They comment on his sour mood, but when Katara makes a joke about how Zuko’s always sour, he’s so happy just to hear her mock him that he almost hugs her desperately, which wouldn’t go over well. He’d probably have to explain why he’s acting so strangely, if he did.

Instead, he stays quiet and eats, enduring Toph’s teasing, Katara’s pokes, and Aang and Suki’s good-natured laughter. He’d take a lifetime of it, so long as it means he gets to keep them.

He returns to his tent with a second helping of breakfast. and waits patiently, knowing that eventually Sokka will return. That, or maybe he’s decided that this time, he’ll run away and try to change the story with his actions.

“Hey,” comes the dull greeting from Sokka when he returns hours later.

Sokka still seems upset, so his walk clearly didn’t solve whatever is troubling him. Zuko doesn’t even know which of their loops is causing him this pain. It’s a tragedy, really. They’ve lived through so many nightmares that Zuko doesn’t know which of them is haunting Sokka.

“Did you see Katara?” That’s all that matters.

“Yeah,” Sokka’s smile is tremulous as he gives Zuko a nod. “I hugged her so tightly that she kept smacking me and complaining about it, so I hugged her even harder.” His tone sounds like he might collapse and break at any moment.

Zuko wishes he could understand. He still thinks of Azula’s crumpled body and wonders when the emotions of that are going to hit him.

Knowing Zuko, it will probably happen years later, when it’s most inconvenient.

“She’s alive. We get to try again.”

Sokka doesn’t seem enthused by the prospect. In fact, he looks as beaten down as Zuko feels. “We can’t let that happen again.”

“I know,” is a hushed promise.

“I don’t know what else we can try. I spent a lot of time working on every different combination when I was walking,” Sokka rambles, his eyes pained as he lifts them to look at Zuko. “There’s one thing left. One thing we haven’t tried, but it means that you and I won’t get to do it together. The only thing we haven’t tried is splitting up.”

It’s something Zuko has considered before. He’d always shut it down because the fiercely wanting and selfish part of him had been unwilling to let Sokka out of his sight, so scared of what would happen.

With him near, he could protect him. Maybe even admit to himself how much Sokka’s come to mean to him.

“But, I don’t want to do this without you,” Sokka says, more of a quiet plea than a petulant whine. For all that Zuko’s seen Sokka posture and act like a man to fill in the spaces left when the men of the Water Tribe left, there’s none of that here.

What stands before him is just a scared boy. Zuko would be lying if he said he didn’t feel exactly the same.

“I think you’re right. We have to do something different,” Zuko says shakily. It’s an old refrain at this point. Every time they’ve woken up, they’ve said the same and they’ve kept on failing. “Maybe we need to be apart. It’s the only thing we haven’t tried, like you said.”

Sokka opens his mouth to argue, but Zuko doesn’t want to waste time on the details.

“Do you want to relieve this again? Me, you, and Katara go to the ships and leave Toph and Suki to fight Azula?” he challenges, already knowing how that would go. “Or we leave Katara and Suki to fight her? She’s going to win, Sokka, you know she is.”

That’s when it clicks. That’s when he knows what has to happen. He’s pretty sure that Sokka knows too. He’s just here to make Zuko say the plan back to him.

“You need to be with Suki and Toph, with the airships.” He’d seen the way Suki had handled those ships. He’d seen Sokka’s prowess with his sword and navigating the mechanics. “The metal on those ships will make it child’s play for Toph.”

“Child’s play for a child,” Sokka mutters darkly, no doubt remembering that little child’s body on the ground in the palace.

“And if I bring Katara to Azula, then I have her waterbending to counter Azula’s firebending.”

“What about her lightning?”

“Katara can handle herself, and so can I. I won’t let anything happen to her, you know I won’t.”

They’ve laid it all out. The pieces have always been there, waiting to be assembled. They’ve both been too stubborn and too desperate to cling to one another to actually put them in place, consciously hiding them so they didn’t have to finish the puzzle.

“We have to do this separately,” Sokka says, certainty replacing the grief in his voice. “I’m still worried that one of us isn’t going to make it. That seems to be how this goes. Someone dies or gets imprisoned or both. What’s to stop it from being you this time? Or me?”

The thought is a chilling one to Zuko, but for once, there’s a peace that comes with accepting that this is what has to happen.

“What if we’re meant to have faith?” Sokka’s face sours at the suggestion, but Zuko thinks that’s what the answer is. “I’m serious,” he says. “You’re a formidable fighter. You’re a great leader. You’re so smart,” he praises. “Sokka,” Zuko exhales. “I think this is the only way that we can do this. I trust that you’re going to bring those airships down. I know that I can beat Azula,” he says. “Besides,” he says quietly. “We’ve already lived through the worst.”

He’s sure that’s not true.

There’s a terrible version of this series of events where it can be worse. If they part and Zuko never gets to see Sokka again, then will his plan have been worth it? Maybe that’s the answer, though. Maybe the version of this battle where they win is the one neither of them make it through.

It’s a bleak idea, but at least the world will get to continue in harmony.

“It’s the right plan,” Sokka admits, staring at Zuko with a defeated look on his face. “I hate it.”

That means it’s the only one that will work.

“Okay. Right.” Zuko’s glad they’re agreeing. “I guess now we just wait.”

“Nothing like the slow march towards inevitability,” Sokka sighs.

Luckily, they don’t have to wait long. Despite Zuko’s impulses to tie up Aang and refuse to let him vanish, he does. He’s off to meet the lion turtle and gain the skills he needs to start energy bending while the rest of them head off to the White Lotus to put this new plan into action.

Zuko kneels at Iroh’s feet and begs for forgiveness.

He pretends he hasn’t lived through this harrowing war more times than he thinks his soul can bear.

And, when the moment comes down to it, Zuko does the hard thing. “I know what we have to do,” he says, and lays out the plan that separates him and Sokka for the first time since the damned tattoos showed up on their forearms.

Suki and Toph will go with Sokka. Zuko and Katara will face Azula. They don’t mention that they already know Aang will manage Ozai.

They don’t tell the group that they’ve lived this before. What would be the point? Zuko is still hoping that this is the last time they have to do this. He never wants to live through this horrifying nightmare again.

The flurry of motion is enough to keep Zuko’s mind off of his building panic for a while, but inevitably, he has to face the thing he’s been terrified of.

He has to say goodbye to Sokka and hope they make it through the other side.

“You know,” Sokka jokes, when Zuko drags him out behind the furthest tent to give them some privacy, “I went through all the battle plans in my head a thousand times. I have backup plans for every way this fight can possibly go by now. You know what I never planned for?”

Zuko shakes his head, mute with the weight of this moment.

“I never figured out how to say goodbye to you. Having you with me, it felt like I could face anything, even when the entire world came crashing down around us.” Sokka’s tired eyes reflect the way Zuko feels in his soul. “I know this is what we have to do. I know we have to say goodbye. I know that I can take down those ships and you can face your sister.”

“It’d just be better if we could do it together,” Zuko finishes, when Sokka doesn’t.

There’s a long awkward space and silence between them. It’s almost like they’re waiting for the other to say something or change the plan, but they both know that things are too important. They can’t change things. They’ve tried.

It never works out.

“I guess this is it. Now we say goodbye and see where the pieces land,” Zuko says. “You’ll take those ships down, I know it.”

“And you’re gonna make sure Azula doesn’t hurt anyone,” Sokka agrees. “Not even you,” he warns, because he knows Zuko too well when it comes to his tendency to think shortsightedly, especially when Azula’s in the picture.

“We’ll see each other on the other side?”

He hates that he sounds so tentative, but the ever-ticking clock on his forearm has given him a complex that every attempt they make is just them running out of time. Nothing’s worked yet. Why will this time be different?

(He knows why. It’s different because he’s making a sacrifice and having hope and faith that Sokka’s going to make it through)

“Goodbye, Sokka,” Zuko says, trying not to let the grief and the anxiety flood him – and trying desperately for that goodbye not to sound so final. He can’t help it. He’s never been the kind of guy who sees the bright side of things and right now, it feels a lot like they’re walking to their own individual dooms.

Hopefully, like all the other times, it just means they’ll get another chance – to do what? He has no idea. He’s run out of them.

Zuko waits for Sokka to say something – anything – but it’s soon clear that he’s going to be kept waiting. Sokka keeps worrying the hem of his shirt, staring at Zuko with wide-eyed worry, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he’s scared? Maybe he’s nervous that if he says the words out loud, then he’ll somehow be cursing them.

“Okay,” Zuko says quietly. So this is it. This is their goodbye.

Hopefully it won’t be the last one.

He reconciles the moment for what it is, ready to leave, but he doesn’t get far.

“Wait,” Sokka pleads, freezing Zuko in his steps with hope of what he might say. He grabs at Zuko’s collar, tugging him back with a touch that’s so light that if Zuko didn’t go willingly, then he could have broken away.

“Sokka,” Zuko pleads, having expected a goodbye – not being taken hostage. “You have to let me go.”

If he holds onto him for too long, then he already knows his resolve will break and he’ll beg to stay at Sokka’s side. “No, I know,” Sokka says. “I uh, I just, there’s something I have to do. Just in case I never see you again,” he jokes, lips tremulous with a weak smile.

He knows the risks. Zuko doesn’t want to think about it too long. If he does, he’s going to break and steal Sokka so he can come with him, and then they’ll be right back to the start.

“What is it?” Zuko asks. “Battle advice? Some kind of invention you want me to take?”

Sokka is still holding onto his neck with long fingers and the warmth is going to drive Zuko insane. His body is already so warm, but Sokka’s touch makes him feel like he’s going to burn up and that it’s not a bad thing.

“Something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time,” Sokka says, brushing his thumb against Zuko’s neck, near the collar of his shirt.

It all happens so quickly. Sokka leans forward on his toes and Zuko thinks, at first, that he’s going to hug him, but then Sokka’s lips meet his with a tentative, short kiss. The warmth of his lips is a flash of heat, even to a firebender, and though he’s had this exact fantasy more times than he can count, the reality is still so much better – even if it’s nervous and worried and short.

He doesn’t ask, what about Suki? because he’s a coward, and because he thinks that doesn’t matter right now. How can it, when this day and all the ones surrounding it might not even exist if they mess it up again?

Sokka drifts in for another soft and sweet peck, a gentle chase before he eases back, still looking worried, but a little more content.

“Why did you…?” Zuko asks, which feels like an equally loaded question.

“For luck,” Sokka quips, but his eyes soften and he continues swiftly. “And because I wanted to.” He looks uncertain and a touch alarmed. “Did you not want…?”

“No!” Zuko tramples on his words. “I mean, yes! Yes, I wanted it. No, I didn’t not want you to.” He lets out a frustrated sound that gets trapped in his throat. “I’ve wanted to do that for weeks. Before we got cursed to relive this, I’ve been thinking about you constantly, I…”

He’s only going to make it worse if he keeps talking. If he kisses Sokka the way he wants to, then he really won’t be able to let him go.

“We have to go,” Zuko says. “I have an idea to make it to the other side.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. When we both make it through and you come find me after, then I’m going to kiss you again, the way I desperately want to right now.”

“Now you’re making me want to grab you by the ankles and not let you go,” Sokka complains petulantly, making Zuko’s spirits lift to know that it’s not just him that wants to stay. Sokka wants him too. Sokka wants him.

Never mind the dread of facing Azula ahead of him. He’s going to be soaring on the ecstasy of this fact for months.

“Go,” Sokka says, hands balled up at his sides. “I’ll round up Suki and Toph. We’ll make sure things work this time. We’ll find Aang and bring him to you.” There’s a fierce look in his eyes as he stares at Zuko, holding himself back. “Go,” is more insistent.

How is he supposed to ignore that?

He doesn’t look back when he leaves to get his things, not because he doesn’t want one last look at Sokka, but because he knows if he does, then he’s going to tackle him to the ground and beg to stay. They’ve already gone over why he can’t, which is why he slips back into Avatar-hunting mode and sets his mind on a singular stubborn outcome.

He lets his feet lead him to Appa and Katara, who’s waiting with an anxious look on her face. He understands. He still remembers the first time that he and Sokka made this trip, but unfortunately for Katara, Zuko’s head is still wildly in the clouds at the moment thinking about the warmth of Sokka’s lips on his.

“Hey,” she says, her tone anxiously sharp. “Are you ready?”

The honest answer is that he’s both absolutely not while also being overprepared. He already knows all the ways this can go wrong. And yet, they’ve never tried it like this. He’s so used to having Sokka close that he doesn’t know how to do this without him.

Nowhere to go but the unknown. “Let’s go,” he says, climbing on and extending his hands to pull her up. He settles back to let Katara take control, figuring that she needs something to focus on.

Besides, Zuko wants a little more time to drift into the soft oblivion of Sokka’s kiss.

The flight is quiet. Katara is clearly worrying over Aang, and Zuko is trying not to let his memories of the last time he made this flight cloud his head. Every once in a while, he rubs the mark on his arm, and with every passing hour, the adrenaline rush of the memory of Sokka’s mouth pressed to his fades away, replaced by fear.

He’s not the only one consumed with worry. “Zuko. Are you ready for this?”

Zuko stares at the ever-increasing size of the Fire Nation in his view. “I’m ready for this to be over,” he says wearily, gripping Appa’s basket to keep himself steady. He knows that he needs to be thinking of the battle ahead, but he can’t get Sokka out of his head.

Sokka and his lips. Sokka and that kiss. Sokka and the promise he’d made about a second kiss.

Focusing on that helps to bring him out of the anxiety, renewed with a new source of passion to make this go right. He needs this time to be the one that lasts, because he desperately wants the future of his life to be the one in which Sokka kissed him.

He’s going to get his chance. They crash towards the palace and when Appa touches down, the only thing standing between him and this battle is his own courage.

“I’m ready,” Katara says.

Zuko’s not sure if she’s speaking to him or if she’s amping herself up. Honestly, at this point, Zuko could use the confidence.

There she is.

His sister, alive and well, about to be crowned Fire Lord, and ready to kill him. Zuko lets her taunts fall to a faint buzzing in the back of his mind. She can’t rattle him, not anymore. He’s seen the worst horrors in this courtyard and her words no longer scare him.

“Let’s settle this,” she says, dragging him back to the present. “Just you and me, brother.” There’s more, but the only words that Zuko actually hears are ‘Agni Kai’ and he’s right back to the courtyard the time he and Sokka had managed to stumble into this situation, only a few hours before this doomed coronation.

He hears Katara’s protests. He knows she doesn’t want him to do this.

Here’s the thing - he knows how to beat Azula this time. She’s off her game. He’s seen that something is cracking. He knows what he has to do.

“I have to do this,” he tells Katara, resting a hand on her shoulder. “No one else has to get hurt.” It’s a plea. It’s him begging her to let him do this. He still remembers the lifelessness of her body. He remembers seeking life in her vibrant blue eyes. He remembers Toph’s broken corpse. Azula’s lifeless body.

He can’t let that happen, not again, never again.

Besides, he has something that Azula doesn’t – knowledge of what’s going to happen. He’s fought her before. This time, he knows what to expect. He expects the power and the slightly off-kilter way she wields it. She’s relentless. She always will be. She’s finally about to claim what she wants so desperately, but not before she beats him and in this, Zuko is calm. He’s lived through this before. He’s learned his lessons.

Except, as they continue to fight, he realizes that maybe there’s still a lesson or two he’s yet to learn, because when he finally gets the upper hand on Azula, he does something he shouldn’t. He taunts her. “No lightning today? Afraid I’ll redirect it?”

The atmosphere goes electric. He’s ready. He’s grounded. He’ll allow this to pass through him and prevent her from ever taking the throne. He’s so close to victory, he just needs this last moment, and then he’ll never have to live through this stupid cycle ever again.

Only – she’s not looking at him.

She’s not going to aim at him. It’s like the time with Sokka all over again, and it’s all his fault.

“No!”

There’s no decision to make. He’s got seconds and it comes down to the simplest of questions – him or Katara. It doesn’t even take the seconds it takes Azula to charge her lightning to decide.

Him. It has to be him, because Sokka can’t live without Katara. It’s a heel change and two steps, but it feels like time slows. One more step, one more, and he’ll make it, not in time to redirect the lightning – but in time to save Katara.

This can’t be the end.

It can’t be…

“Zuko!” comes a frantic cry from somewhere near him. Who? Azula? No, it can’t be her. Zuko strains to open his eyes, and when he does, it’s only the slightest inch because everything else hurts so badly.

The world is burning.

No. Not just the world. Zuko realizes a moment too late that it’s his body that’s burning. The lightning makes him feel like he’s on fire, and he can barely hear Katara’s voice. She sounds like she’s surrounded by water.

That earns a crazed laugh from him. “Water,” he babbles. “Waterbender.”

“Zuko,” Katara whispers, and when Zuko’s vision clears, he can see the tears in her eyes. “Please don’t.”

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to go.

“Tell Sokka…” He inhales shakily, every word a cacophony of pain to speak. “...I was right.”

The edges are closing in. The blackness is coming to take him away. He won't get to see the numbers on his arm tick away to zero because he’s going to die.

“Zuko! Zuko, hold on…”

He did it. He beat Azula. He stopped Ozai from taking over (he has to hope that they have, because if he’s succeeded, then they must have). He’d done it with the help of his friends, and now the Fire Nation is going to recover. It’s a shame that he won’t get to see it. It’s a tragedy that he’ll never see his Uncle’s pride or Aang’s joy. That he’ll never get to see if Suki and Toph made it. He’ll never get to see Katara’s relief at him waking up.

And Sokka – well, the less he thinks about that, the less his heart will break into a thousand messy pieces.

“It’s okay,” he croaks out, as the darkness reduces his world to little more than a pinprick. “...how it was … supposed to be.”

It’s a shame he’s not going to get that kiss, but at least he got one from a beautiful boy. That’s the last thought Zuko has.

Or, at least, it’s the last one he thought he’d get.

If that moment had been the universe’s plan for him to exit, stage right, then someone has thrown out the stage directions. Zuko could have sworn he’d been on his deathbed, but then he opens his eyes to find himself recuperating in a bed in the palace.

There’s a heavy weight on top of his legs.

“Momo,” Zuko complains, swatting at the object.

“Ow!” whines Momo.

Wait. That can’t be Momo. That’s not what Momo sounds like. In fact, that sounds suspiciously like…

“Sokka,” Zuko breathes out wondrously, even as confusion pulses through him. “What are you…?” He pats himself down, lifts his fingers to his eyes, and then feels the bolt of pain lance through him, making him hiss.

Sokka leaps off him, yelping for Katara. “Hey! Hey, it’s okay, you’re alive. You’re not fine,” he says, “because you decided to take a bolt of lightning for Katara even though you already made that mistake before, but you’re alive. Katara was able to use her waterbending to buy enough time to get you to the healers, and by then, Aang was back to help.”

“Aang’s okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s okay. He beat your Dad. We won, Zuko, but you weren’t supposed to do that,” Sokka protests, burying his face in Zuko’s chest. He’s laughing or sobbing or both. Zuko can’t tell, but he’s so warm against his body and right now, that’s all he needs.

Zuko begs to disagree. “I had to save Katara.”

“You should have let her fight with you! Screw the rules of the Agni Kai,” he says, clearly wanting to punch Zuko in the shoulder, but avoiding it because he knows that it’ll only hurt him more. “She was ready, and she proved that she can take Azula! I don’t care what kind of crazy rules that the Fire Nation has or …”

“Sokka,” Zuko interrupts, twisting to reach out to grab at Sokka’s hands. “Please stop ranting,” he begs, his voice hoarse.

“Sorry,” Sokka says, toning down his voice. “Headache?”

Zuko doesn’t nod, but his mouth forms a ‘yes’ and that’s about all he can muster.

“Obviously, I’m glad you saved Katara, but you should have been worried about saving yourself, too.”

“We made it through. Right?” He opens his eyes, suddenly alarmed. “Sokka, tell me we made it?”

“We did,” Sokka promises, extending his arm to show Zuko the timer. “Look. It’s at zero,” he says. “It happened after Aang took away your Dad’s firebending. It hit zero, but we didn’t wake up again ready to restart the day. We kept going, Zuko, we did it!”

“Then why do we still have them?”

If they’re meant to be souvenirs, then Zuko would like to politely take them back to wherever they came from, though not right at this moment. Right now, Sokka is so close and Zuko is so tired and in so much pain. They made it, but all he wants to do is curl up and cry for all the times they didn’t.

He reaches for Sokka’s hand and pulls him, gently, towards him.

“You owe me something,” Zuko rasps, trying not to cry at the gentle way Sokka rearranges their bodies so that he doesn’t hurt Zuko. “I distinctly remember a promise before we separated and went to fight our own battles.”

“Get better,” Sokka insists. “Then I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you a thousand kisses, on every inch of your body. First, though, you gotta get better. I really don’t want to live through this ever again.”

Zuko knows the feeling. He tangles their fingers together, ignoring the way his hands are shaking. He’s scared to ask how bad the damage is. He still remembers the months after his first fight, where he could barely see, couldn’t hear, and at his weakest, had been banished from the only home he’d ever known.

What’s going to be taken from him this time?

“Sokka?” Zuko murmurs softly. “Do you think we need to explain what happened to us to the others?”

Sokka hums as he rests his cheek on Zuko’s good shoulder, cautious not to lie anywhere near his scar. “I think that maybe there are some secrets that are going to stay between you and I. We’re the only ones with the marks. Maybe we’re the only ones who are supposed to know how all this is meant to go.”

It’s a pretty thought. Zuko wants desperately to believe it.

“Is it really over? Are we finally done?” He’s asking Sokka questions that only the spirits apparently know. Time’s run out. They’ve made it to the other side. When Zuko falls asleep tonight, he’s going to wake up and the next day will come, and then the next, and if they’re lucky, the war will finally be over.

They had to part ways to do it, but they won. They learned their bitter lesson, and now they get their reward – to collide back towards one another.

Well, maybe not colliding, thinks Zuko as he shifts from the pain. He doesn’t think he’s ready for that for a while.

“Maybe Aang can have a chat with the spirit world,” Sokka says sleepily. “And if that doesn’t work, then maybe I’ve got one more fight left in me.” He’s absently playing with Zuko’s hair, softly stroking it and lulling him into a respite (even if he doubts the pain will let him sleep). “It’s okay, though. You’re alive. I’m alive. We did it, Zuko.”

They did it.

Is he ever going to believe it?

Right now, with Sokka in his arms and his hands all over Zuko’s hair, he doesn’t really care if this is a dream. This is where he wants to live for the future, and if anyone tries to take it away from him, then he’ll show them just how much fight he’s got left in him.

Tomorrow will come quickly, so Zuko intends to enjoy today.

And hopefully, it’s the only today he’ll ever have to live.

Chapter Text

ONE YEAR LATER

Zuko wakes to bright sun in his face, an empty bed, a day full of activity ahead of him, and a tattoo on his arm – permanently stuck at zero.

Last night, he dreamed of the airships. He dreamed of the look on Sokka’s face when they lost. He dreams of Toph’s burnt body and of Azula’s broken one. He dreams of grief and tragedy and when he wakes up, he has to rub his fingers over the tattoo again and again until he can convince himself that it’s over.

To most people, none of it ever happened.

They remember one version of events – Aang going missing before concocting a plan with the White Lotus. The plan that brought Suki and Sokka and Toph to the airships and Katara and Zuko to the palace.

Zuko had been confronted with loss again and again and again and instead of clutching Sokka as tightly as he could to his side, he let him go and only then, did they win.

He’s not really sure what that’s supposed to mean.

One year ago, he and Sokka sat on this very bed awkwardly, two scarred teenagers who didn’t know what to make of what they’d lived through.

“Do you think we’re crazy?” Sokka had asked. He had Zuko’s forearm in his lap and he was stroking two of his fingers over the strange ink on Zuko’s skin. The question had flown over Zuko’s head, consumed with shivering goosepimples all over his skin for the tentative, yet soothing touch. “Did any of that happen? Or was it all just a nightmare?”

“It happened,” Zuko had insisted, voice rough with the memory of the pain. Reality was cruel and he still felt the cold of the prison cell, the ache in his chest at the sight of Azula’s body, and the new scar he bore from their final, victorious fight. “I just don’t understand why we were the only ones who went through it.”

He had his suspicions, but most of his theories revolved around the spirits and he already knew how much that would make Sokka scowl if he said it out loud.

Still, he had to say it. “Things don’t usually happen for no reason. If we lived through those cycles, then maybe it’s because we had a lesson that needed to be learned.”

“What lesson?” Sokka had scoffed. “That the universe wants us to suffer? I got that message a long time ago from a hack named Aunt Wu.”

“Or maybe we have to look at the one thing that worked after everything we tried didn’t. The one constant factor.” Every time they tried to win the war together, they failed. They lost or someone they loved died.

Sokka had understood quickly. He hadn’t been happy about it, but he’d clearly understood.

“So, if we were meant to learn something, was it really that we’re better apart?” Sokka’s voice had been small and nervous.

Zuko understood. After all, it was a thought he hadn’t been able to escape, mainly because he wanted to prove beyond any doubt that it wasn’t true. The trouble was that no matter how he looked back on what they’d lived, he couldn’t figure anything else out.

“That’s how we won. Right?” Zuko hadn’t felt much like a winner. Victory was bleak if it meant being without Sokka. “Maybe it’s all to prepare us for the future. You need to head back with your father to rebuild. I need to be here to do the same, but with my father very far away.”

Sokka had brushed his palm over Zuko’s forearm, pressing their tattoos together. “What about this? Maybe it was some kind of lesson, I’ll give you that, but doesn’t that mean that we’re still connected somehow?”

He had to believe that. In his heart, it was the only thing he really believed.

“Maybe the lesson is that we can’t lose ourselves in each other. There’s a whole world out there we need to support. Nations to rebuild, reparations to be made.” Zuko had felt bleak imagining more time without Sokka at his side, but he also recognized just how important he was to the world. “Maybe we’re supposed to be apart for now, but only until we’re sure that we can balance what we are to each other and what we owe to the world.”

Sokka had scowled as he’d leaned against Zuko. “That near death experience of yours made you too wise,” he’d whined, but there was a look on his face that said that Zuko was right.

They had work ahead of them.

Holing up inside of Zuko’s bedroom was a tempting idea, but they couldn’t. They had to go out into the world and keep working to bring peace. They had to figure out who they were outside of the war, the hunt for the Avatar, the quest to stop Ozai.

Then, maybe, when they came back to each other, they would still feel the same.

“Am I still allowed to write to you?” Sokka had asked quietly.

“I’ll be furious if you don’t. I know we need to do this, but you still need to come back to me.”

“Always. I promise.” With that, they’d sealed their vow.

That had been a year ago.

Today is finally the day that Zuko has been waiting for and one that he hadn’t imagined would ever come – the one year anniversary of his coronation, which is important, of course, but there’s something much more special about today.

Today is the day Sokka comes back to him.

In a completely expected turn of events that everyone could have seen coming, Zuko is an absolute mess through the whole day waiting for news of a ship arriving at port. He terrorizes the chef with a thousand questions about Water Tribe delicacies, worries that Sokka won’t arrive as planned, and is generally so nervous that even Aang ends up picking up on it.

“Hey buddy, you seem like you’re a little tense. Do you want to meditate?”

Zuko, who’s been gripping his fists so tightly, thinks that even if he tries to meditate in earnest, he’s going to end up accidentally burning something down.

“I think I should probably just go wait at the docks.”

“Don’t you have…?” Aang trails off when Zuko whips around to look at him. Whatever he’d been about to suggest evaporates. “You know what? Me too. I can’t wait to see Sokka! Katara keeps telling me that he’s doing really well, or at least, she did the last time that I saw her two weeks ago.”

He’s just normal about how long it’s been, but he and Katara have been traveling when they’re not here with Zuko and as far as he knows, they’re also kissing and canoodling and have been in a relationship for most of that time, and they haven’t done something stupid like decide to spend a year apart.

Zuko, with only Sokka’s letters to buoy him, doesn’t have that certainty and he’s desperate to lock that down the moment he can, even if it’s probably not wise to do it the moment that Sokka steps off the ship.

With that in mind, it’s honestly surprising that Zuko doesn’t burst into excited flames the moment he sees the Water Tribe ship arriving. Aang’s not much better, bouncing from foot to foot in excitement, which means that he’s going to have to fight his best friend to get access to Sokka first.

And then, there he is.

He and Sokka had spent so many grueling, terrible, awful hours together, but it had solidified a bond between them that doesn’t exist with anyone else.

It’s not until he sees him again that he realizes just how strong it is.

He doesn’t push Aang out of the way, but it does feel like a close call as he fights not to break into a run to be first at the gangplank, grateful that Sokka’s come off the ship last so he doesn’t end up blocking everyone else’s exit.

“Hi,” Zuko greets him breathlessly when, finally, they’re alone.

(Or close to it, but Aang barely counts)

It’s only been a year, but he’s suddenly desperately wishing that someone had gone with Sokka to send him back sketches of what he’s looked like this whole time. He’s wearing a new hairstyle with a bunch of complicated braids and pins holding it up, and it looks silky smooth. He’s gained a little more weight and filled out, and he looks so refreshed and happy that it takes Zuko a moment to realize that he’s staring like an idiot.

“Sokka,” Aang coughs, which is the only reason he knows that he’s not the only one. “Maybe say hi to Zuko properly?:

Sokka jolts forward, almost like he’s been shocked, absently tugging on Zuko’s robe with two fingers before he remembers that it’s improper to do that with the Fire Lord. He lets go, but Zuko doesn’t care about propriety.

Is he about to cause an international scandal? Yes.

Does he care? Absolutely not.

That’s why he grabs Sokka’s collar and grabs him back to kiss him as desperately as he’s been meaning to for the last year. They’d had soft little tender kisses before he’d left, but Sokka hadn’t been sure about the next steps of his life, or what he and Suki were going to try, and so Zuko hadn’t wanted to let his heart be broken.

Now, with sheaths of letters from Sokka outlining how confident he is in himself, that he and Suki have decided to be friends, and that Sokka knows what he wants, it’s left Zuko with a clear path forward.

In the last year, his own confidence has grown and he rarely wakes up anymore doubting his role as Fire Lord. Not only that, but he actually thinks he’s doing a great job – in large part because of Aang’s help and Sokka’s constant consultations and advice. The letters between him and Sokka have shored up one other truth that he’s sure of – that despite the space between them, the infatuation has grown deeper into something that feels longer lasting – something that could burn through nations before fizzling out.

That’s why he doesn’t care how many people see him kissing Sokka. He’s been wanting to do this for a year and he thinks it’s the bravest thing he’s ever done. Now, with so many witnesses, he’s not going to be able to take it back.

Easing back, he searches Sokka’s expression, because his reaction is the only one he cares about.

“I hope that was okay,” Zuko murmurs.

“You beat me to it,” Sokka quips, “but I think I can live with it.”

Before he can get too far, Zuko threads their fingers together to hold on tightly, letting Sokka and Aang chat about Appa and Katara and news from around the world, letting them have their time as they walk back to the palace. It’s only when Sokka makes a diverted motion like he wants to go to the market that Zuko gives a light tug to suggest otherwise.

Eyeing Zuko warily, he raises both brows. “Do we have somewhere to be?”

“I had dinner prepared back at the palace,” Zuko admits. “There’s a, um, a question I wanted to ask you, but I figured first we should make sure you’re thinking on a full stomach.”

“When I do my very best thinking,” Sokka brags.

Aang gives them amused looks, digging out his glider. “I’m gonna go take a spin around the island. I’ll see you both in the morning at breakfast!”

Sokka mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘I really hope you don’t’ before Aang takes off, gliding towards the horizon. Zuko’s very much of the same opinion, and he’s glad that Sokka seems to be reading his mind again so quickly within his arrival. It proves that even with the time apart, nothing fundamentally changed between them. Time and space didn’t hurt them.

That’s really all he needs to bolster his belief of what he’s planning to ask.

Well, that and the kiss. The kiss did a lot of work for him.

Tugging Sokka along, he listens captively as Sokka rambles about the journey, the news from Omashu, what Toph’s been arrested for lately, along with a slew of helpful political gossip from all the corners of the world that already give Zuko a few ideas of how to reprioritize his workload.

The fate of the world isn’t what Zuko wants to talk about, though, and as he arrives at the bedroom, he hopes that the scene he’s set communicates that.

“So uh, I figured it would be nice to have some privacy,” Zuko says, opening the heavy door to his bedroom, pleased to discover that the kitchen staff has managed to give him the picnic of his fantasies.

There are \Water Tribe delicacies in between romantic candles, soft pillows for them to lie against, and plenty of fire flakes for Sokka to eat, against all better judgment.

“Zuko, wow,” Sokka exhales. “This is all for me?”

“I wanted to give you a great dinner for your arrival night in the Fire Nation,” Zuko says, knowing that he might be overcompensating, but he’s got a lot of bad memories in Sokka’s mind that he needs to replace.

The fastest way to do that is food, so if he has to provide fifty feasts to start undoing some of that trauma, he’ll learn how to cook just so he can help speed that along.

“Plus, there’s um. There’s.” Zuko had practiced this with the guards. He’d let Ty Lee humiliate him for hours just so he could rehearse these words before he said them, but in the face of Sokka’s earnest blue eyes, there’s no helping himself.

He’s a lovesick wreck.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” he says, playing it off as casual. “But that can wait until we’ve eaten. It’s going to get cold.”

“It’s better that way,” Sokka insists, which definitely bears some investigation, but whatever makes Sokka happy, Zuko will support it.

(It’s definitely worse cold, but that’s an argument they can have over the many years they’ll hopefully be in each other’s lives)

For the first half hour, Sokka eats and continues rambling, hands gesturing wildly as he talks about local politics, interspersed with compliments to Zuko’s chef, and finally ending on personal updates of all their friends and family, including an update on Uncle Iroh’s tea shop business and how he’s already the king’s favorite.

“It’s because he lets the bear in,” Zuko says knowingly.

“Yeah, but the bear has better manners than most of his customers.”

Zuko’s seen the way that bear has been trained to sip from bowls. He’s definitely not arguing, but he also hopes Uncle is charging extremely high prices for the amount of tea that’s going into that bear, not to mention the potential damage to the shop.

He’s so tangled up in that image that he nearly forgets that he’d told Sokka that he had something to ask him. He’s living in the bliss that is Sokka’s company, no threats to their existence in sight, and custard pies for dessert.

Sokka, of course, doesn’t forget. He never forgets. His brain’s sharp that way.

“So, what’s that question? If you’re about to ask me to marry you, you better know that if you don’t ask Dad and Bato for permission first, you’re definitely gonna end up with fish hooks in a bunch of your limbs,” Sokka teases.

Oh, Zuko definitely knows that. He’s planning to get there, but he thinks maybe they ought to try actually dating first. Not that Zuko hasn’t imagined his whole life with Sokka, but there’s a big difference between fantasy and reality –

Not to mention, he doesn’t think he’ll get a second try at that.

“I mean, it’s not that, but I was hoping to talk to you about the future. Not our future, not exactly, though not-not exactly.” Zuko frowns, already feeling himself sliding down a confusing spiral. “This last year, I’m glad we did what we did. It really helped me to see what it is that the world needs, but also what I need. I’m not going to force you into anything, but I just want to let you know that you will always have a home here.”

Sokka sets the plate of food aside, clearly intuiting that this is a serious moment and having pastry flakes on his lips while they talk might not be the best look. “Not to sound dismissive, but I know,” he says, taking Zuko’s hands into his own. “Wherever you are, I know I’m welcome.”

“Right, yeah, of course, but I mean that your home here could be something more. I want to be with you, Sokka. All the time,” he confesses in a rush, “but I want to be with you as your partner, and I know that we won’t be able to spend life at one another’s sides. The spirits made sure we know that. But that doesn’t stop what I want, and I understand that there will be times when you’re gone or I’m traveling, but when you’re not, I want you to be here with me or I’ll come to you.”

That’s the point. That’s what he wants to ask.

“Sokka, will you date me?”

Sokka takes Zuko’s hands in his own, squeezing them gently as he stares deep into his eyes. “Zuko,” he says, very seriously, “Please don’t take this the wrong way.” Zuko’s heart seizes up as he prepares for the worst. “But I kind of really thought we already were? I just thought we were taking some time to figure out what we want to do with the rest of our lives, but I never questioned the us part.”

Wait. Really?

“Really?” he blurts aloud, because that deserves a little doubt.

“Zuko, why do you think I broke up with Suki?” Sokka asks him pointedly. “She’s pretty incredible. I would’ve held onto her with a vicious grip if I didn’t have someone else that I was getting involved with.” Then, just for good measure, in case Zuko’s not paying attention, Sokka pokes at his chest. “You.”

The dizziness isn’t what Zuko had planned for. Out of an abundance of caution, he extinguishes every candle in the room save for the ones lighting the lamps, because the last thing he needs is for his emotions to make him stoke the fires to a dangerous level.

“How about we make it so that everyone knows we’re dating?” Sokka teases. “You included. You remember the courtship braid I wrote about, right?”

“The sketch was a little confusing,” Zuko admits, even as he flushes red. He still remembers how he’d touched himself after he’d received that letter, imagining all the ways he could have put that into Sokka’s hair. “I saw it in Katara’s hair the last time she visited though.”

“Do you think you remember it well enough to put one in my hair?”

Zuko nods rapidly, desperate to get his hands in Sokka’s hair. “Yes,” he manages, voice cracking. “Yes, yeah, please.”

Sokka tips his head to the side and Zuko pounces to touch him. His fingers weave into the soft strands of silky hair and, not for the first time, he thinks about how lucky he is and how often he’s thought about this moment.

Now it’s here, it’s real, he gets it. He gets all of it.

“Tell me if I’m pulling too tightly,” Zuko warns, but given the soft hums of pleasure from Sokka, he thinks he’s doing just fine. It’s not much to finish the braid (it’s definitely no betrothal necklace, though Zuko’s already thinking about that) and within minutes, he settles it back.

Sokka fiddles with it, leaning back to peer into a mirror with satisfaction. “Perfect,” he says, and just when Zuko thinks they’re done, he leans forward. “Your turn.”

How is he going to survive anything with Sokka if even the mere touch of his fingers in Zuko’s hair is enough to make him feel lightheaded and dizzy. Sokka’s skilled with the braid, so it doesn’t take him very long to do, but the soft scrape of his nails against Zuko’s scalp followed by the gentle stroking after every braiding motion makes him want to babble nonsensically.

Finally, sense returns to him when Sokka eases back to inspect his work.

Sense, and a lingering bit of clarity that he’s been thinking about for months as he and Sokka exchanged letters.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think my father was right about something,” Zuko admits, as Sokka reaches out to fiddle with the braid, making sure that it’s tucked neatly behind his ear and his headpiece is in place.

Given the sour expression on Sokka’s face, he definitely didn’t want to hear that. “About what?”

“You are going to make the Fire Nation the best that it’s ever been,” Zuko says, painfully earnest in how much he believes it. “Not with war balloons or submarines or ways to hurt people, but because you’re brave and smart and you care so much.” He fiddles with the cuff of his robe near the permanent mark, an ever-present reminder. “I know that you’re going to make this nation so incredible because of what you are to me.”

Sokka’s eyes are wide and all the distaste from the mention of Ozai’s name is gone. “What am I to you?”

“Everything.”

And that’s more than enough.

They don’t need the spirits to tell them that. They don’t need to relive this moment to learn a lesson. Zuko already knows it. This is the path they’re charting for themselves now, and they don’t need another two, five, or ten tries to get it right. They’re going to figure it out for themselves on the first go.

It’ll be messy. It’ll be imperfect. It’ll have flaws and it will be hard – maybe even feel impossible sometimes.

They’ll do it, though. Together when they need to be and apart when the world needs them.

Here, in the Fire Nation, with a beautiful boy, Zuko knows that he can take on the world – and the only thing he intends to do is to make it better, so that he and Sokka can live the peaceful life they’ve worked desperately to earn.

If that’s the lesson the spirits have been wanting him to learn, then Zuko is ready to be the spirits’ star pupil, so long as he gets to keep this – forever.