Sorry for that hella long delay, I fell into another fandom stream and got stolen by a tiny little ship there! Now that THAT story is out of my way, I can finally focus on my Zutaras again!

I'm getting eager for them to start interacting, but it'll be another four or so chapters before that happens. This is an adventure, after all, and a romance second, which is why I've been writing oneshots for the couple on the side. Give you guys something to tide you over until this one gets them together.

In other news, Hook is on tonight! For those of you who don't know it, it's a Peter Pan take, one with Robin Williams. As a super fun fact, Dante Basco is in it, too, and my goodness he spends a good chunk of time sassing people. For those bad with names (me), he's Zuko's voice actor. And yes, yes you can hear it.

Right! Time to read, thanks to anyone who read all that! Enjoy this Zuko-centric chapter, and I've got most of the next written! You might just get a double update!

Zuko stood on the slick deck, breathing deeply in, out, in, out... He could feel his inner flame waxing and waning as he focused, almost back to the strength it had been before his rather showy burnout in the ocean only two weeks ago. He was slipping into a meditative trance, his body seeming to completely slow down, from his planted feet to his peach-fuzz hair. Just behind him he could hear murmurings, something that was almost a comfort on days when he wasn't trying quite so hard to concentrate. He thought about that fire inside his heart instead of their voices, desperately trying to drown them out when the volume suddenly increased.

Which, naturally, was when he was tossed to the side and completely drenched.

He scrambled to his feet sputtering, the long black strands of his ponytail (he refused to cut it off, peach fuzz be damned) sticking to his face and shoulders. The laughter behind him was now blaring, something that really didn't help his growing temper. Glaring back at the group, he got prepared to storm away in a fuss when a hand clasped down on his shoulder.

Not a clap, or a clout.

A firm, warm grasp.

Gold met laughing blue as Hakoda helped him balance, shaking his head lightly. "I've told you before, boy. Breathe. Don't plant your feet, the ocean won't allow that. You need to imagine your core holding still, but don't rely on your legs to do it for you. Shift your weight! Follow after me, and for the sake of Tui and La stand on your toes!"

He readjusted Zuko's stance, nearly stepping on his toes and pushing him forward until he was balanced. He went so far as to kick the backs of his knees, only lightly mind you, until Zuko was crouched and found himself naturally shifting his weight. He was half-convinced there was sorcery involved, it came so easily. Hakoda stood back to observe, clapping his hands together with a bark of laughter.

"You see this, men? Our little seal pup has learned how to stand!"

Immediately his posture dropped and he turned to sulkily glare at the uproarious men. Instead of snarling or possibly throwing fireballs as he once would have, he ended up sighing silently and rolling his eyes. He'd grown over the time aboard the ship, even if it was only in baby steps. Just the phrasing of the thought made him wince a bit. It really had been horrible, learning how to get around at first on the floating log they called a ship.

The first two days Zuko spent in solitude, alone and cold and inconsolably miserable. He had no reason to trust the water savages, not with what he knew about them. So he stayed, huddled in his little metal room as random people peered in at him. They fed him, to be sure; some kind of horrid fish gruel, and he really only went near it out of necessity. After managing that first bowl, choking down the almost gelatinous sludge, he was almost wishing he'd been left to drown. Surely they could have just poisoned him instead of giving him slop that normal people wouldn't feed to their pets...

Day three was a bit better, but only because they gave him actual food in the form of a roasted fish. It gave him enough strength to finally worry about his escape; most probable escape route was him swimming to the closest land mass, so he needed energy and quick. The only option he'd been able to come up with was leeching power from the sun, his inner fire still far too out of whack for him to rely on. It was so haywire that he wasn't waking in the mornings, didn't even come close to rising with the sun as he was so proud to do. And because he was hidi- watching out from his little cell, he didn't even get to watch the sun set over the lands of his people.

The second blessing that day was the fact that the ocean wasn't completely tossing the small ship about. He could almost walk without stumbling too badly, and that overall was what made up his mind. He could hear the crew shouting as they worked, and he used that to his advantage as he crept out of the room. They weren't paying attention to him at all, and perhaps his half-starved form didn't draw as much staring as he was used to.

The stairs leading out of the belly of the ship were easy to navigate, giving him the walls to slam against whenever the ship rolled unexpectedly. The deck of the ship, accessible through a small trapdoor that took a bit of maneuvering to escape, was slick with sea water and running amok with men. He swallowed nervously, eyes tracing those closest until he saw a big enough opening. As soon as his foot fell on the deck of the ship he felt a strange mixture of elation and absolute shit. The sun was finally overhead and hitting him full-force, making his inner fire flicker with some semblance of balance. It was still a far cry from the absolute control he preferred to maintain, but to feel any kind of order after so long... Which was where the sickness had come in, because with the ocean moving the way it was he felt like he couldn't have been farther from his element if he'd tried.

The smothered air was still too heavy for him retreat back to the bowels of the ship, though, and he found himself almost blindly stumbling until his hand slapped into something. Seeing a graceful curve of wood he reacted without thinking, wrapping his arms around it until the world could calm down. He thought he heard words, and maybe even laughter. He was regretting his choice to go up there as he bitterly listened to the obvious mocking when he noted the sounds of heavy footfalls behind him. No contact was made, but he had heard a soft male voice telling him that there was food, if he'd like, should he peel himself away from the lantern post please.

He peeled his face away from the warmed wood, noting that he was indeed hugging the prow (and attached lantern, no wonder he was drawn to it), to look back at blue eyes filled with laughter. He wouldn't know it until much later, but it was a look the calm Chief handed out in droves. His first instinct was to glare, but a hand reached out to ground him just enough, so that he merely looked away instead of jerking back. Chuckling, Hakoda tightened his grip a touch more to make him let go of the prow completely.

"Watching you walk is like watching a tiger seal learning to crawl. You're not so graceful out of your own element, are you?" He felt the sting to his pride, and he made sure the emotion showed through his glare. "Don't take offense, boy, I didn't mean to insult you. Your Fire Nation ships are made to cut through water. I'm sure they're very different than our own warships. These tend to flow with the ocean, so we that we may respect the powers of Tui and La. But I was serious about food, and you're looking thin enough to disappear if you turn sideways."

The rest of those days were spent observing the crew, Zuko honestly confused by all the contradictions he saw to his teachings. They didn't eat raw fish (instead they ate that horrid sludge, every single one of them, unless that ship or another of the armada managed to drag in enough fish to feed them all), they didn't speak in grunts (but hand signals were used, Hakoda was even teaching him), and they were not filthy mongers. In fact, they stopped often at bays and inlets to wash the salt off their skin, the men telling him that, if not removed, it would stiffen their joints until they couldn't even clap along to music night.

That's right. He couldn't even escape it here.

He sat beside Hakoda on those nights, the two of them practicing hand signals back and forth as the rest of the men clapped and chanted silly sea chanties. Talking wasn't completely out of Zuko's ability; he could manage a rasped word or two, but it made his throat hurt and often forced him into a coughing fit that made full conversations impossible, let alone singing along. It was the chieftain who mentioned signalling, telling him that in the frigid cold of the south they couldn't always be understood through the multiple layers they wore. Quick gestures with mittened hands were the substitute, an implication of a want rather than fumbling with words. Through this language Zuko could get across his basic emotions and thoughts, usually to the amusement of the men when he went on frustrated 'rants'.

A lot of things about him amused them. They'd taken to calling him Little Pup, and he really tried to take as little offense to it as possible. He still refused to tell them any kind of name, and they seemed unhappy referring to him as 'Boy' constantly. Perhaps there was some merit to the name, anyway, since he really had been as graceful as one in the beginning. Hakoda was the only one he could rely on to understand his rapid 'speaking', the others usually breaking down as they watched him gesture wildly (especially when he was angry, his hands were nearly a blur). For that reason he found himself actually enjoying the older man's company, going so far as to more or less follow him around.

The man spent a good half-day teaching him to fish, for Agni's sake.

By the time the seventh day rolled around, Zuko was more than a little torn with his loyalties.

The evening following his impromptu balance lesson had Zuko running around the ship, mostly getting underfoot as he was finally able to watch the men without stumbling wildly at the more severe waves. He was also unattended by Hakoda, as he and a small crew had headed out to a nearby town for supplies. As such, he could admit that he was bored. It was too late in the day for meditation, and he wasn't close to being hungry.

In the end, they gave him a dagger, a chunk of wood, and a plea to keep quiet and just, please, stay still.

It said something that he had no thoughts of using the dagger to attack them.

He ended up cross-legged below the prow, enjoying the feeling of the lantern's fire source so close by as he notched the wood. He wasn't adept at it, by any means, but it really was a good distraction. It made him wonder how hard it would have been, carving out the seashell pendant he'd strung around his neck. Perhaps the knife would have to be heated...?

He was testing the theory, heating the metal before digging the blade into the wood, when he heard footsteps. He knew who it was, just based on the fact that people had quieted to watch. He looked up, a grin pulling at the less-scarred side of his face as he half-flourished the singed figure. It almost looked like a hawk!

Hakoda said nothing, eyes shielded as he looked down at him. Zuko could feel a sinking feeling, not even sure why until he saw a rolled parchment being twisted in Hakoda's rough hands.

"Stand up, Zuko."

Immediately he felt like ice had been dumped down his back, down his throat even. He was sure he had gone pale, and the wood and dagger slipped from his now-clammy hands. He did stand, slowly (so slowly) as the crew bracketed behind Hakoda. He felt like they were closing in around him, enough so that he pressed his back into the bow as they stared. In the setting sun their eyes were almost glinting.

He didn't know that blue could glint like that.

Like steel knives.

He braced one hand behind him, trying to feel the flickering flame for support. The last time he'd felt this sick to his stomach was when he'd faced his Father in Agni Kai. The parallels weren't lost on him at all.

This was what he got for placing trust in people.

When Hakoda moved forward, Zuko squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his cheek into the prow as he waited. And waited. Once again he felt that familiar grasp, the safe warm one, and he cracked his good eye open just enough to meet Hakoda's. His free hand held the scroll to Zuko as the other squeezed his shoulder in a comforting manner.

"I don't care who you are, you're a good man regardless of title. But you need to see this."

Hakoda didn't drop his hand as Zuko slowly relaxed, his still-trembling hand taking the scroll in one hand. The other he kept pasted to the wood grain until he was sure he could stand properly. He finally brought it to the bottom half of the scroll, prepared to unravel it as he glanced once more at the man in front of him. Hakoda managed to give him a tiny smile, one surprisingly lacking in hatred.

That blind faith in his character was what made him finally do it.

He stared in shock at the mismatched eyes, the high-bound ponytail, the very, very familiar face that stared back at him. For a moment, he strongly believed that this was Zhao's doing; who else would put out a reward for his head? But as his eyes flitted down the sheet, right under the scripted Wanted Dead or Alive, he saw the wax seal. It was one tailored from his own Father's ring, the official stamp of the Fire Nation.

His Father had put a price on his head.

He could hear the men talking around him, and he figured they thought he was reading, or processing, or whatever. They weren't paying attention to him anymore; even Hakoda slid his hand off his shoulder to talk to the rest of his men. He faded out their words, only catching whispers and snippets. Something about him, something about the Earth Nation village. Prisoners?

Why did that even matter?

He slowly stepped forward, walking towards the door leading to the belly of the ship. Or maybe the crow's nest? He just felt numb, claustrophobic...

He made perhaps eight steps before he felt his knees buckle and he slammed into the ground.

A massive dragon lay writhing on the ground, mane aging and greyed. It tried to roar, but all it could do was spew brackish black blood as a greater, brighter dragon repeatedly ripped into its unprotected gut. He could see the beast's innards spilling on the ground, so heavily scented with jasmine that he felt like vomiting himself. The gore spattered, only to dissolve into a roaring ocean wave. That same wave welled around the dying creature until it was pulled in and away, leaving only a void in its place.

The other dragon, brilliantly red, swiveled its head to look at an approaching blue one. It was small, but blue flames crawled down her spine in a show of power. They turned, as a unit, towards him and he was washed over with their voices, familiar and ringing. Zhao's was deafening, mocking him for his weakness and pressing him down into the ground. The other, his own sister Azula, was whispering in counterbalance to the powerful Zhao. She reminded him of his Uncle, of his death.

His Uncle was dead.

He could feel himself crumbling, sinking to his knees as the fire from the two dragons around him kept increasing. He couldn't fight back, just let the heat press down as his skin peeled back, blistering and smelling and-

His eyes opened and he realized that the ground was cool, a steady movement of push and pull under his palms. He could see great sleek bodies, one black and one white, circling round and round under the water, and he realized that he was crouched on the glass-like surface, the water tension sending perfect rings only interrupted by themselves. He felt himself swaying with them, the heat blistering his back ignored as he pushed forward, his arms suddenly sinking into the water. It was less like water and more like jelly, holding his body aloft as the fish kept swimming. His ruined skin was repairing itself with the contact, and he could even feel the pulling skin around his eye lessen.

The dragons were screeching, great claws trying to breach the surface and follow, but the water was drowning them out. He could only hear the ebb and flow. The fish turned from their movements, swimming instead to him until the massive snouts of both were directly in front of his face. One inhaled the water around him, the other breathing out and he could feel it, deep in his chest, as his inner flame began to dramatically burn and smolder with each breath. It was unlike anything he had ever felt.

First one, then the other moved forward, pressing a whiskered kiss to his forehead before they swam away, leaving him in a black void that went from comforting to suffocating. He found himself struggling now, clawing at the void until a voice rang out, a tunnel of sound that had him struggling towards it. He reached, focusing on that, until light broke and-

His eyes opened. He didn't bolt, didn't make a sound. Just opened his eyes and stared up at the wooden crossbeams shadowed by lantern-light. He heard a sigh of relief beside him, placing it as Hakoda even before the man leaned over him.

"You scared us, Zuko." There was an unfamiliar jolt at hearing his voice saying that name, and it threw him for a loop. "Are you all right?" Hakoda laid a hand across his forehead, such a heavy weight that Zuko closed his eyes to fight back any hint of tears. He raised a hand to grasp at Hakoda, only holding on for a second before making a quick gesture of gratitude. When the hand was pulled away, Zuko immediately grabbed at it and moved it back, pressing his forehead into it.

Hakoda stayed quiet after that, sitting at his side until a natural sleep fell over Zuko and he moved no more.

Zuko woke two days later, and Hakoda would be the first to admit that he avoided the deck for many hours after waking. Instead he'd been studying maps, spending hours poring over the most recent Fire Nation movement. He was almost afraid (something he would not admit to) that Zuko would be back to the dour boy he'd been when they had first fished him out. He'd just started opening up, too... But he had to show his face sometime.

He rolled the little carved 'hawk' in his hands as he stepped up into the light, the sun much higher than he was used to. He flitted his eyes about, nervously looking for the scarred young boy. He looked over him at least twice before he suddenly jolted, shock on his face as he noted the deep blue tunic and leather thong sash. Never in all his time aboard had Zuko worn the clothes of Hakoda's own people; he'd rather adamantly been clinging to the Earth nation garb they'd had stashed for undercover missions, moth-eaten edges be damned.

Zuko looked over at that point, a true and full-blown grin pulling at his face. It held as he jogged over, only pausing to toss a quick wave of apology to the man who'd caught the mop he'd dropped.

He was swabbing the deck?!

Hakoda found himself just as speechless as Zuko, not even able to make a hand gesture when Zuko 'asked' him what was wrong. At his lack of response he just rolled his eyes, reaching into his tunic to reveal a bound scroll. He wasn't smiling as he handed it over, instead looking serious and almost- proud? Hakoda unraveled it, eyes taking in the charcoal-drawn map, notations and all. He lowered it enough to meet intent gold.

"This is a battle schematic." The boy nodded, "for the Fire Nation? They're heading North?" Zuko took the map from him, setting it down on a crate not far from them. He carefully pulled the pendant from around his neck, showing it to Hakoda before laying it on the map, right over top the Southern Water Tribe. From there he traced the Avatar's route, a meandering and definitely north-bound path. Hakoda swallowed heavily, tracing the rest of the route shakily with his hand. "They're heading North, straight for danger. Zuko, thank you for showing me this. You're free for the rest of the afternoon. Gratitude is enough payment for me this day."

In a move that was becoming more and more familiar he grabbed Zuko's shoulder with a reassuring squeeze, dropping his hand to look at his crew. "Men, we travel North! I want one ship on land, get dried fruits for the trip! You, let the rest of the armada know. We head out in three days! Quickly men, step to it and get the preparations done!"

Zuko hadn't gone to his sleeping hammock after being dismissed; even with his new-found bond to the ocean he was still a Firebender. Sleeping in the day went against every fibre of his being. Besides, the thought that they were heading North, to where the Fire Navy was waiting...

Zhao would be waiting.

He wasn't the kind for cold-blooded killing, but he wondered if he could make an exception for that snake of a man, the coward that had thrown his Uncle to his death. Not to mention burning his face, but by that logic he'd have the same thoughts about his Father, and that was a book he didn't want to delve into. It didn't change the fact that, acceptance be damned, he wasn't quite as happy as he was putting on. He was frustrated, being kept aboard a ship with no outlet for the building anger. It was something he was trying to ignore.

He found himself exploring the belly of the ship, still surprised (and so pleased) with the friendly welcomes he received from any crewmate in passing. He ended up wandering towards the concentration of men, straight into the galley. It wasn't a true galley, as there wasn't a dining area on the small ship; the kitchen was moreso a storage of dried goods. They were more apt to just dock the ship and set up camp than keep everyone aboard for extended periods of time.

He waved to the at-the-moment cook, grabbing a knife off a chopping block before settling down to help pry apart oysters. They were to be smoked and preserved for the journey, now that the Chief had declared one was actually occurring. He was carving out the flesh when his eyes fell on the discarded crustacean shells. They were to be kept for bait, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from a large crab shell that had been tossed aside.

Dragging it over, he held it up at eye-level, noting the fact that it was just a bit larger than his own face. Big crab. Settling it in his lap, securing it between his folded knees, he dragged his knife across the surface and watched a curl of the shell peel off.

As Zuko, he had given himself to this crew and this Chief. But with this... Another curl came off, then another and another until he had formed a gaping, cruel mouth. With this, maybe he could make a difference.

My cat is snoring in my ear. Silly Todd.

Hook time!

Anyway, sorry again for the delay, and see you soon! I'm back aboard this ship, no worries! I will not let this story go! On to reviews really quickly before I go!

EpicFandoms - See, no worries! Hakoda warmed right up to Zuko! I have a feeling he'll be the number one supporter of Zutara. Why else would he let Zuko keep the pendent? I'm happy to use Iroh so much in this story; he's a fascinating old man, that one, and it'll be good for the gAang to have a true voice of reason. I have a feeling he'll be binding with our favourite kids.

CherishRedemption - I'm sorry to keep you waiting so long, and thank you so much for your review! If I even take too long to write something, just sass me. It usually gets my butt moving.

MoSBanapple - Thank you for the compliments! It'll really start branching after the culmination of the events at the Northern Water Tribe. I was going to wait a bit longer but I am an impatient woman.

Swimmy D - Zuko and Hakoda will be bros, fist bumps and all. Or rapid hand gestures. Whichever. Thank you for the review, my dear!

Also, the dream sequence is totally a play off of Zuko's conflicted persona in Ba Sing Se.

As per normal, please read, review, and scold me for a long delay!