Chapter Text
Everything was burning. His whole world, crumbling and turning to ash around him.
Zuko was aware he was shaking, he was aware of the sob building in his chest. But he couldn’t care. Not when that ugly red wound was staring at him, covering his uncle’s left shoulder. His clothes smoldered and the air smelled of burnt flesh.
Someone touched his shoulder, and Zuko flinched. Hard.
He whirled around, fist raised and smoking with the promise of fire.
The Water Tribe girl, Katara, backed off with her hands raised in a peaceful gesture.
“I can help,” she promised, her voice soft, her gaze sinking to Zuko’s uncle who was lying unmoving on the ground before him. “Zuko, I can heal him.”
“No,” he finally spoke, his voice raw and hoarse and too quiet. He hated himself. He wished he could find the anger that drove him, but it was buried beneath the grief of the idea that Uncle was going to die and it would be his fault.
Katara’s face contorted in frustration. Her fists balled at her sides. “Zuko, if you don’t let me help he’s going to die!”
Her words hit him like a komodo-rhino charging full speed. He visibly flinched, his raised hand lowering, the fire curling in his veins, ready to strike, simmering down. He lowered his gaze, cursing himself at the tears that gathered in the corners of his eyes as he nodded slowly.
Katara took a slow step forward, watching him warily. When he didn’t move, she took another step, then another, then marched the rest of the distance between herself and Uncle Iroh, kneeling next to him on the dirt road.
Her hands were gentle as she peeled back the layers of burnt clothes that had melted and were sticking to his skin. Her brows were furrowed too as she assessed the damage.
“Is he…” Zuko started, but his voice died in his throat. He felt his heart tremoring in his ribcage as panic seized him hard.
“I need some room,” her voice was soft, but firm—leaving no room for argument. She turned her sharp blue eyes on him, and the severity of her expression made whatever argument he might have come up with whither and die before it had a chance to even form. “And water. Lots of it.”
“I can go get it,” Aang volunteered.
“I’ll go with you,” the earthbender girl Zuko hadn’t even known joined the Avatar’s group spoke. She was small, barely older than the Avatar himself. Her dark hair hung in her eyes, and Zuko distantly wondered how she could even see through the curtain of thick bangs. “You know, just in case Miss Crazy comes back.”
“I’ll stay with Katara,” Sokka, Zuko remembered his name, said. He was glaring daggers at him, no doubt tallying up all the times Zuko had tried to hurt them in his mind. “Just in case Arson Happy over here gets any second thoughts.”
I won’t, Zuko thought miserably, casting one more glance at his unconscious uncle, before he sat down far enough away so Katara could heal him.
“He won’t,” the earthbender girl said, as if she could read his mind. “He’s…” she trailed off, her expression betraying something concerned… but why? Zuko tried to catch her gaze, but she ducked her head and grabbed the Avatar by the arm. “Come on, Twinkle Toes. Better move fast.”
Zuko watched them go, not even registering when Katara pulled what little water she had left out of a water skin and started working it around his uncle’s wound.
She worked quietly, and he didn’t even bother watching. He just sat and listened to Uncle Iroh’s labored breathing, sure that it would be the last he took. But time went by, and nothing changed. He didn’t get worse, but he wasn’t getting better.
“I’ve never seen him that quiet,” Sokka muttered to his sister, squinting at Zuko suspiciously.
Katara frowned and whacked Sokka’s knee with her free hand. “I know you don’t trust him, but right now he needs our help.”
Sokka frowned at her. “Do you really think that after all the trouble he went through tracking us down over the last few months, he’s suddenly had a change of heart?”
His sister sighed, hands faltering over the old man’s wound. “I think he has one person he really cares about, and that person got hurt—so he’s willing to take a chance for us to help.”
Sokka’s brows furrowed as he considered that. He looked at Zuko again, who was hunched over with his head buried in his hands. He looked genuinely distraught, and while Sokka didn’t know much about Zuko—he figured some of what Katara was saying made sense. This guy, Iroh? Yeah, he’s pretty sure his name is Iroh, had been a constant ever since they first met Zuko in the South Pole. They must have been related, maybe his grandfather or something. And yeah, they hadn’t seen Zuko since the attack on the North Pole, so maybe he’d given up chasing Aang?
Iroh seemed to be the only stable figure in Zuko’s life. Zuko… who was around Sokka’s age. And Sokka could understand losing someone important to you—
What was he doing? Sympathizing with the enemy? What was wrong with him!?
Sokka huffed a loud sigh, clearing his thoughts. Zuko hadn’t moved. In fact, it looked like he was shaking now.
His clear hatred for the guy was met with a strange twinge of sadness. He’d never imagined the son of the Firelord as… vulnerable before. But he was now, here in this moment.
Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation was distraught and vulnerable. Because someone he loved might die.
And ironically enough, it wouldn’t even be because someone who opposed the Fire Nation had killed him. Zuko’s own sister, at least Sokka assumed that crazy firebending lady was Zuko’s sister, had been the one to usher the blow. She’d fired at her own… grandpa? Yeah, Sokka still didn’t know how Iroh was related to the Fire Siblings—but regardless. And she’d called Zuko and Iroh traitors. So… could that mean Zuko had actually defected? Was he really not chasing after Aang anymore?
Sokka wasn’t sure how he could know that. He certainly couldn’t ask. And how could he ever let his guard down around Zuko anyway after all he’d done, traitor to the Fire Nation or not?
“So…” Toph held an empty water skin as Aang bent water out of a nearby stream. He didn’t know how much Katara might need, so he was getting a lot. “I have a confession.”
Aang looked at her, brows furrowing. “Okay?”
She shuffled, her toes digging into the ground. “That old guy? Iroh? I… kinda talked to him on the road a few hours ago. We had a long discussion about his nephew… I kinda only realized just now he was talking about Zuko.”
“Oh.” Aang focused on filling the water skins, not sure what to say. What could he say? Toph had joined them only a short while ago. She hadn’t known about Zuko until last night, and even then her only clue about him had been Sokka’s sarcastic remark about a ponytail Zuko no longer had.
“Iroh is a good man,” Toph continued, slinging a now full water skin over one shoulder, and holding another empty one open. “And he wants what’s best for his nephew. And Zuko…” her expression got taut again. “Aang he’s… so messed up inside. There’s so much confusion and anger.”
Aang pursed his lips, facing her with crossed arms. “How can you tell? If you only know that because of his uncle—”
“I can feel it with my earthbending,” she explained. “People’s moods and general demeanor are pretty easy to figure out, when I can feel the shift in their heartbeat and breathing.”
Aang stared at her in awe. “That’s pretty incredible.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks. Anyway, Iroh told me nothing but the truth when I spoke to him this morning, before I actually knew who he was. And just now, back in the village… I really don’t think Zuko is going to give us any trouble. Not with his uncle the way he is.”
Aang nodded slowly and grabbed one of the water skins from her. “But what about after?”
Toph shrugged. “Hopefully we can convince him to at least leave us alone. I mean, his sister called them traitors, so I guess that means they’re not trying to hunt you anymore.”
Aang considered that. “You make a good point. Besides,” he started walking and she followed him. “I still think Zuko could be a good guy. Don’t tell Katara and Sokka, this story should come from me, but a little while before we met you—I got captured by this Fire Nation captain or admiral guy named Zhao. Zuko was the one who rescued me.”
Toph’s eyes widened. “What for?”
Aang sighed. “I mean honestly? Probably because he wanted… or maybe needed, to capture me himself? But he almost died doing it. He risked his life to save me. And Sokka and Katara wouldn’t be here if he’d done nothing, too.”
Toph thought for a moment. “Was this part of that frogs story Sokka was complaining about a few days ago?”
Aang laughed. “Yeah, that’s the one.”
Toph smirked. “Based on what his uncle said to me? Zuko is just a kid, like us. He’s lost his way,” she grinned and slugged Aang in the shoulder. “Maybe the Avatar can help him with that.”
Aang hissed and rubbed his shoulder. “First of all, ow. And secondly,” he thought about it. Zuko hadn’t taken Aang’s offer of friendship all those months ago. But maybe he would now, now that he had to stay with the group until his uncle was better. “I think you’re right. I can help him. I mean, I need to try, right?”
Toph nodded. “Right.”
Trying and being successful were two very different things, Aang realized.
Zuko was hard to talk to. Especially because he didn’t talk.
He just sat out of the way, watching Katara’s intermittent healing sessions with a worried look on his face that made it look like he was constantly five seconds away from having a breakdown.
Aang tried multiple times to start a conversation with him, but Zuko wouldn’t even look at him. Eventually, as night fell, he gave up. He sat next to Toph in front of the very poor fire Sokka had thrown together.
“He doesn’t usually make talking so hard,” Aang grumbled. “Most of the time he’s yelling at me!”
Toph sighed and pat his shoulder. “Give him a little bit of time. He just needs to know his uncle is going to live first.”
Aang pressed his lips together in a thin line, glancing at the wayward prince. Zuko was sitting next to his uncle, keeping watch over him. Katara wasn’t very confident in her healing abilities, and she was exhausted. Aang wished he had the knack for healing, then maybe he could lift some of the burden off her.
“What do you think?” Aang whispered to Toph. “About his uncle?”
Toph’s expression tightened again. “He’s strong, for someone his age. But… he got shot with fire, Twinkle Toes. A very hot, very direct stream of fire. If an infection doesn’t set in, he’ll be fine. But you just… never know.”
Aang sighed, staring into the campfire. “I do wonder… if Iroh dies… what do you think Zuko will do?”
Toph shrugged. “I don’t know. Hopefully nothing crazy.”
Aang frowned. Zuko and crazy kind of went hand in hand with each other.
Katara spent the next several days trying her best to heal Iroh. She was fending the wound off from infections, and Zuko’s constant hovering didn’t ease her anxiety. He didn’t say much, which was weird for him.
By the third day, when she was catching the beginnings of a fever on the old firebender’s skin—that’s when Zuko started to crack. The moment she said “infection” to her brother, Zuko’s breath shuddered like he was trying not to cry.
She turned just soon enough to see him turning and wandering away from the small earth tent they’d been keeping his uncle in. He dragged his feet to the edge of their campsite and sat down hard, his shoulders quivering as he buried his head in his hands.
Katara set her jaw, and got back to work. In spite of it all, Iroh deserved to live. She’d heard enough from Aang and Toph over the last three days, after she asked them why they were trying to get on Zuko’s good side. She was going to make sure this man lived.
Toph felt it. The change in Zuko’s heartbeat when she heard Katara whispering something to Sokka. She didn’t need to guess. Iroh was taking a turn for the worse, and Zuko wasn’t taking it well.
She felt him sitting at the edge of the campsite. She could feel the way his whole body was shaking as he cried, silently. The stuttering of his heartbeat and the sharp, shallow intake of air. He was having a panic attack.
She couldn’t leave him that way. He might have done some bad things, but everyone deserved to have a shoulder to cry on. Beside, she owed it to Iroh—who loved Zuko even with all his faults.
Taking a breath, Toph abandoned her breakfast and marched to Zuko’s side. She came up on his left, and he must not have heard her, because when she sat down—he startled. He was watching her, breath a bit heavy, definitely suspicious.
But Toph forged through the awkward heaviness and laid her hand gently on his arm.
“He’s going to be okay.” She whispered.
He said nothing for several seconds. Only his heart beating wild and uneven indicated he was even there. But then she heard a noise come from his throat. A broken sob. She squeezed his arm, gentle and affirming. And his dam, which had already been cracking, broke.
Toph sat with the former prince of the Fire Nation as he broke down and started sobbing openly, all that pent up anxiety and terror over losing his uncle finally boiling over. She took his arm with both hands and squeezed in reassurance. Zuko hunched over and let himself cry.
He needed this. She got the feeling his uncle was usually the person who went through this with him. But his uncle couldn’t do it, so someone else had to.
She felt and heard footsteps coming behind them. She tuned her senses, unsurprised it was Aang.
The Avatar sat on Zuko’s right and took his shoulder firmly.
“Katara isn’t letting him die,” Aang said with a surety Toph didn’t think he was capable of. “She is going to heal him, and your uncle is going to live. We promise.”
Together, they sat with Zuko through a (definitely cathartic) mental breakdown. And even though they’d been enemies before, Toph was sure this could be the beginning of something resembling friendship.
It was after that breakdown, after sitting with Zuko and refusing to let him be alone in a dark moment, that Toph and Aang started committing themselves to being his friend.
Iroh, after a very very scary three day decline, started to get better. Well enough where they could move him and they could keep traveling. It made it better for him, to have Appa instead of having to walk. At least, that’s what he kept saying.
Zuko was still awkwardly quiet, but maybe a little more hopeful. His demeanor had certainly improved since Iroh had woken up. It was whatever counted as “happy” for Zuko, at least.
“Ya know,” Aang mused, one night around the campfire. “This is kind of weird, to have you guys here not trying to kill us. Cool, but weird.”
Iroh chuckled in good nature, taking the heat off Zuko—who looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. “Not that it means much, Avatar, but our goal was never to kill you.”
“Not that the specifics matter much,” Sokka muttered. “He would’ve ended up dead either way.”
Zuko flinched, staring hard into his food. He never spoke much these days. At least, not around the whole group. He talked plenty with his uncle, and said one or two words to Aang and Toph a day, which they considered a massive win.
“I know our history hasn’t been pretty,” Iroh amended in his gentle voice. “But my thanks to you for helping us when you had no obligation to is insurmountable.”
Aang smiled and inclined his head respectfully. Then he looked at Zuko, and offered him a smile too. “Got any big plans?”
Zuko scowled, then turned his gaze to the campfire. “I don’t think we’ll stick around long.”
“He speaks!” Katara cheered sarcastically. “I thought you’d forgotten how.”
Zuko rolled his eyes.
Iroh pat his nephew’s shoulder in good-nature. “Do not be so hasty, nephew. There is strength in numbers, and besides,” he rolled his shoulder and cringed. “I am nowhere near ready to be without Master Katara’s healing.”
Katara smiled, sheepish. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
Iroh waved her off. “Nonsense, you saved my life. That is a debt I owe.”
Zuko sighed and muttered something under his breath.
Iroh fixed him with a slightly more stern look. “These young people have risked much to help us. There is no shame in showing gratitude.”
Zuko’s jaw twitched, and the two firebenders shared a long, tense look. Iroh clearly won, based on the way Zuko’s shoulders deflated and he hung his head in a nod.
“Thank you,” Zuko bit out, before he got to his feet and stalked into the forest.
Iroh sighed, watching him go with a small shake of his head. “He has trouble accepting that his once enemies are no longer that. And even moreso that you so willingly saved our lives.”
Sokka gave him a pointed look. “He’s troubled a lot, isn’t he?”
Iroh rubbed his shoulder, gazing into the fire. “My nephew has been through much, in the last three years. I think being declared a failure by his father, and a traitor to his people, was the final nail in the coffin. Sudden change is not something Zuko takes to easy.” He lifted his warm gaze to Aang. “When it happens, he requires a… steady, guiding hand to show him the world isn’t falling apart around his ears.”
Aang nodded, slowly. This had become Iroh’s subtle way of communicating his wish for the Avatar to help him bend Zuko’s worldview further away from the narrative he’d been taught—to help Zuko pursue something good. Because Aang could see it, over the last two weeks, that Zuko—deep down—was a good person. His anger and violence was only there because of his father, because of what he’d been taught.
And Aang still thought, still believed, that everyone deserved a second chance. Sometimes they just needed help to take it.