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Zuko’s vision swam before his knees buckled before him, crumpling under his own body weight. There were Earth village huts, torn asunder. Through the slits of his eyes, he saw the path of destruction his fire-bending had caused. The carcass of the burning roofs before him faded away, leaving behind just a facsimile of it. He felt an arm at his side, immediately. He knew it was Aang, even if his eyesight was too blurred to make out the monk’s visage.
“Zuko, what—”
Aang gasped, and Zuko felt guilt pulsate in his throat. It clogged his voice, making it difficult for him to speak. He looked away from the other man, ashamed to have been caught off-guard in this way.
Before them, scores of Fire Nation supremacists were laid out, subdued. Even with the war over, there was much work to be done, trying to curtail the pro-Fire Nation propaganda that had spilled into the ears of the citizens for a good hundred years. It was to be expected that the end of a war would not calm the most dogmatic and rabid imperialists.
Aang and Zuko had been visiting the ex-colonies, to ensure that there was a smooth transition out of the fire nation’s rule. Of course, such things never went as well as one wanted. Fire Nation citizens—ones who had opposed Zuko’s changes—attacked.
Zuko had felt a strange sense of humiliation facing his countrymen in this way. They were his people, and yet, they believed that they were right to hold dominion over the other people in the world. Such thinking was the reason the Air Nomads had been destroyed. There was no absolving this horrid crime, and yet, it was his duty to see to some sort of reparation. If there was any to be found.
“You’re bleeding! Why didn’t you say anything?” Aang’s worried voice was in his ear, and then his mind. Even the frantic tone didn’t take away how comforting it was to know that he was beside him. It was almost enough for Zuko.
Zuko tried to explain himself, but he just let out a moan, clutching at his side. His breathing was labored, and even his armor was doing a poor job at staunching his injuries. There was no one else around, the ambush unexpected and unwelcome.
“Come on—” He could feel himself being hefted onto Aang’s back. He let out a protest that sounded more akin to a pained whimper. “I’m getting you somewhere safe. This isn’t the place for healing.”
The two men were a ways off from the battle ground, hidden in a thicket of trees. The bushes gave them good coverage, in case of an ambush. There was a creak a ways off from them, just slightly further east. It was a blessing to have a stream of running water nearby, granting the two men the reprieve they needed.
The cool water sank into Zuko’s pained flesh, stitching together the torn muscle tendons. Aang hadn’t known how to heal with water until a couple years after the fight with Ozai. Thankfully, with extensive work, Aang’s healing was almost on par with Katara’s at this point. Zuko watched through the narrowed slits of his eyes, Aang’s face focused and grave. He had seen this boy grow up into a man and never lose his youthful innocence. Except, there were these moments, where a solemnity persisted, as the weight of the world still rested on his shoulder.
Zuko was sorry to be the cause of it.
A sharp pain spliced through Zuko’s side as his skin stitched back together. He let out an involuntary hiss at the sensation. He could barely look at his wound, already knowing that it was slowly knitting under Aang’s healing. Through the corners of his eyes, he saw a clot of red blood pull from him, and begin to slowly swirl in the water.
"How could you let it get this bad?" Aang asked, voice barely a whisper.
Zuko did not answer, hoping to get away with not explaining himself. But Aang looked at him, piercing him straight with his brilliant eyes.
“I…I just wanted to—” He was quiet, rolling the words around in his mouth. “I wanted to make up for—for the wrongs of the past.”
“Zuko, come on—you don’t need to go at it this hard. There are better ways to go about it.” Aang’s words were reasonable. But, it wasn’t as though ‘taking it easy’ would fix the crimes of the past.
“I know what I’m doing, Aang.” Zuko grunted out, voice harsher than he intended.
Anger flashed in Aang’s eyes. “Are you kidding me? You’re just working yourself to death!”
“I’m not working myself to death.” Zuko said, automatically. That wasn’t at all what he was doing here. “I’m just—I’m just doing my duty.”
Aang glared. “Why is it that your duty involves you taking everything on yourself? Why is it that you’re falling apart the moment I take my eyes off of you?”
That stung. He wasn’t just a child to be herded—he had his duties, he had to see through. Zuko couldn’t help the anger well up in him. Aang never deserved it, but he was now in Zuko’s direct line of fire. “That’s rich coming from you! Katara told me all about it—how you ran away trying to shoulder the burden of the Avatar.”
“Yes, because I’m the Avatar!”
“And I’m the Fire Lord!”
They were staring into each other’s eyes, each unwilling to back down from their position. But, as always, whenever Zuko and Aang had a disagreement, Aang simply sighed, letting Zuko have the battle. Despite this concession, Zuko always felt as though he was the one who had lost.
“Alright, I know you’re probably doing it for your reasons. But—” Aang leaned forward, forehead resting on Zuko’s shoulder. “Please take care of yourself. I don’t want you to kill yourself over this.”
“It’s my duty, Aang.” Zuko said, exhaling. He tried to still his heartbeat, which was now beating hard for another reason. “I can’t change the past, but I can make a better future.”
“Yes but, what good is the future if you’re not there with me?” Aang looked up at him, eyes beseeching. “You get what I’m trying to tell you, right?”
“I—I think so.” Zuko lifted a shaky arm and found the courage to rest on Aang’s elbow. “I’m sorry.”
Aang considered his apology, and then smiled. “Depends on what you’re sorry for.”
“Sorry for…not telling you I was hurt?”
“Close enough, I guess.” Aang shrugged. “We’re gonna work on your insistence on jumping head-first, okay?”
Zuko snorted. “Again, I’m not sure why I’m hearing that from you of all people.”
Aang laughed. “Just do this for me, alright?"
The wind rustled through the trees, bringing a sense of calm to the land. For a moment, Zuko could forget the pain of seeing his people so ardently oppose the rights of others. It was impossible to ignore this discomfort. But then, he saw the worry creased in Aang’s face. Someone so young shouldn’t have to carry those lines on his body. And yet he did. And Zuko was just adding to it, hurtling himself straight into destruction.
“Alright. Just for you.” Zuko murmured, sinking back against the tree as Aang resumed his healing.