Title: Reclaiming Honor

Chapter Title: Fraying At the Inside Edge

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 7,264

Disclaimer: I claim no responsibility for what happens beyond this chapter. However, we are moving in on the end!

Author's Notes: College is eating my soul, my muse ran away during the Massive Season Hiatus, stress, work, cosplay, bork'd knee, blah blah, something about space. You guys have essentially heard everything before, so why go into it in depth again:3

A HUGE thanks to my reviewers--there were times when things were Epic Fail and I essentially wanted to give up, but you guys are making me work hard again. So thank all of you for that!

A few review responses, because I can't do all forty-plus, lest it wind up being longer than the chapter. Which would be quite a feat, since I'm giving y'all almost a double-sized chapter to reward you for waiting so patiently while my life made me lag!

DarkAngelKisses - Your reviews had me literally rolling on the floor, giggling and having glee. Running commentary is the funniest thing ever. I wish there were room for more humor in and around this chapter to dedicate it to you.

Soupcan - I suppose it's less that he's stupid, and more that his rashness will catch up to him. Either way, his luck isn't going to hold out quite as well as he hoped, and hope you (and everyone else reading!) will enjoy it anyway. x3

Anna301510 - Don't die inside! If it spreads all o'er, you won't be able to read the next chapter

M.e - Now why'd you have to make an anon review so I can't reply to you in person? You've put so much thought into that review that I can't even begin to reply properly! I'm glad you like the character portrayals, and I love that my brainchild made you love this paring. X3

Part Seven: Fraying At the Inside Edge

"I cannot allow you to follow this course with the Avatar. It will only lead to disaster."

In the first few seconds immediately following the old man's words, his nephew could do little else but stare, amber eyes wide and jaw slack, hanging open a little such that he resembled a stranded carp. The look of befuddlement on his face was undeniable; Uncle Iroh, of all people, should have been able to sympathize… He was, after all, doing the right thing in letting the Avatar go, wasn't he? Surely his uncle understood his intentions--the alternative, that he neither understood nor would support him, made the teen's heart plummet into his stomach like a comet.

"Uncle," Zuko protested immediately, fumbling over the familiar address. His palms felt abruptly sweaty, and he clenched and unclenched them, hoping to rid himself of the unpleasant feeling, unable to find any explanation that might sway his uncle's opinion. "I thought you, of all people, would understand…"

"Understand?" Iroh interjected, a frown of grandfatherly disapproval on his weathered features. "No, Prince Zuko, I do not understand why you would set yourself up for such disappointment."

"I'm only doing what you've always taught me to--"

"Wrong! I have never taught you to wittingly harm yourself! Have you considered what this will mean for you?"

The exiled prince's face fell, his expression stormy and conflicted. That was the whole problem, wasn't it? The more he considered the consequences of his plan, the more difficult it was to go through with. To return home at the cost of the child's life was more than he could bear; it would have been one thing if the Avatar had been a cowardly old man, hiding out for one hundred years and ignoring his duties--that, Prince Zuko could have handled, and he doubted that he would have much difficulty handing such a person over to face the Fire Lord's judgment.

Aang's life, however…

When Zuko spoke again, his voice was strained, and though he tried he could not bring himself to meet his uncle's eyes. "What happens to me is secondary. I need to do what's right for him, Uncle… And if you won't help me, I'll find my own way."

For long moments, there was silence as Iroh watched his nephew's face contort with awkward embarrassment at his own candidness before the teenager looked pointedly away. Something had changed, as Uncle Iroh had noted earlier, but he could not put his finger on it. Somehow in less than a day the little Avatar had bent the branches of his nephew's tree to finally grow out of Fire Lord Ozai's shadow--which he had been trying for years to accomplish with little success. Under any other circumstances, it would have been a wonderful thing.

But so near to the Fire Nation, nearly standing below the Fire Lord's nose, was the worst possible time for Prince Zuko to suddenly decide to follow his heart.

The old man's weathered face softened, and with a murmured sigh that sounded more like a prayer that the spirits help them than an actual sigh, he reached out to put an arm around the prince's shoulders. He had long seen him as more of a son than a nephew--even, to some degree, before his own son had died in the siege of Ba Sing Se. It hurt, having to deny him something he so clearly wanted.

"One day, my nephew, it will all make sense," he said slowly, all but forcing the teen away from the door to walk down the hall. Prince Zuko did not look up; but he flinched, and knowing that he was indeed listening, Iroh continued in low tones, "You are a young man now, and healthy, but the Avatar is a child… and a prisoner of war besides that! Believe me when I say such a match cannot work, and that you will only bring further scorn from the Fire Lord if you take up a homosexual relationship with the Avatar when he--"

"WHAT?!"

Prince Zuko pulled out of his uncle's hold so quickly, and with such force, that he stumbled into the corridor wall and nearly lost his footing. Uncle Iroh stared at him, an eyebrow raised, genuinely surprised by the prince's outburst, and Zuko could only stare back, all but hyperventilating steam in his surprise. His heart was pounding hard in his ears, and his cheeks burned red, but the exiled prince neither knew if it was from embarrassment or anger, nor did he care.

Making sure the Avatar escaped safely had nothing to do with a relationship!

The old general held his hands palm up in a gesture of appeal, hoping to calm his nephew down before he hurt himself. "Zuko, you do not have to be ashamed of it--in my younger days I, too, was involved in--" he paused, noting the still-horrified look on the Fire Prince's suddenly ash-white face, and amended, "--a, ah, few similar relationships… a long time ago."

If there were a way to shut his ears without having to cover them with his hands, the prince would have gladly given his ability to Firebend as trade. While it was somewhat reassuring to know that his uncle--the only family he had been able to count on since his mother's disappearance--would not abandon him if he did ever show interest in men (he could blame it on being at sea during his early teens all he wanted, but such an excuse would not hold up with men who hadn't done the same), the idea of his uncle being with anyone at any time, past present or future, made his skin crawl.

"This isn't about that!" he snapped, shaking his head to rid himself of the mental images of his uncle courting Lieutenant Jee or the helmsman. Or worse yet, both. "I'm not talking about love or romance or--or any of that! I need your help getting out once he's free!" By the last part, Zuko's voice had dropped to an urgent hiss, wary that someone else might somehow overhear him, though there were no men in the corridor besides themselves.

Uncle Iroh only stared for a few moments, eyes quite wide and round, as he tried to process his nephew's words and dissect their meaning. The release of the Water Tribe siblings made much more sense if Prince Zuko was trying to ensure a clean escape for the little Avatar, although the weight he had inadvertently dumped on their shoulders was one he would not have wished on anyone. And from the teen's outburst it was safe to assume that Aang knew nothing of his plan--a wise thing to keep him unaware of, especially when it did not look like there had been quite enough forethought to ensure success.

Prince Zuko was no tactical master. As a child it had taken him months to memorize some of the simplest battle plans, and he had never done well planning anything that required anyone else's help--with few exceptions, the plans he did scheme up usually comprised of: 'Stay out of my way until I ask for help,' and 'I'll figure it out when he's in front of me.' In that respect, he did not take after any of the men in his family; his great-grandfather and grandfather had been true masters of strategy, from the battle of Han Tui to full-scale invasions and takeovers of most of the Earth Kingdom's largest cities and compounds. Even Fire Lord Ozai had made great progress thanks to his battle plans (though there were more than a few that had risked and sacrificed unnecessary soldiers, which Uncle Iroh was more inclined to count as losses than actual victories).

But no man in their family could boast something so great as penetrating the impenetrable Earth Kingdom capitol of Ba Sing Se--none other than the Dragon of the West, and even with his title long shelved, Iroh's wit had yet to fail him.

The abrupt sound of palms slapping together startled Zuko, and the prince's head snapped back toward the old man, plainly surprised by the grin that lit his weathered face. "All right, my nephew," Uncle Iroh said heartily, clapping his nephew hard on the shoulder. "Come to my chambers with me; we have much fine-tuning to do. I hope they have not sent the messenger hawks to the Fire Lord just yet…"

As Iroh steered him down the hall toward the stairs, Prince Zuko could only follow automatically, eyes wide with disbelief; it seemed too easy. He had expected the old man would help him, but not so readily. "Uncle, you're really going to help me do this?" he asked, voice small, stumbling as he tried to keep pace with the old man's stride.

"Of course. What a silly question!" Iroh looked back at his nephew, and although he was smiling gently his golden eyes sparkled with excitement. After two years with only Pai Sho to stretch his intellect, the former general was all but itching to do something with a little more planning involved--and what better than an escape from the heart of his own country? "This will be an excellent challenge for both of us."

"This isn't a game," Zuko protested, scowling; gambling pebbles and seashells away from the crew was one thing, but their lives could be at stake--in going into exile with him, Uncle Iroh had forfeited his right to stay in the Fire Nation as well. His was not a technical exile (and no one in their right mind would arrest the Dragon of the West), but helping a fugitive in and then out of the country could earn him an equal death sentence if he was caught. "If we're caught, the consequences…"

The old man cut him short with a wave of one hand. "The spirits do not let great acts of compassion go unnoticed; there will be more gained than we lose in doing this, I assure you, Prince Zuko," he said, mounting the stairs to climb up to the next level. And in a low voice, he added, "And I would not let my favorite nephew face this alone."

---

Three thunks; pause; pivot; three again; pause, a grunt of anger; pivot, more thunking; repeat--blue and white flashed briefly in the corner of his peripheral vision between the stomping and huffy grunting. This had been going smoothly as clockwork for the better part of the past hour--a more accurate way of keeping time than the oil burners on the wall, for sure, but infinitely more annoying.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Pause.

"Katara…" Sokka warned, not for the first time. His sister did not hear him, instead pivoting again like a mechanical dancer and beginning her trek anew. It was the same pace, same number of strides she had always made, even as a little girl back home in the South Pole. She made the same time pacing across Appa's saddle from front to back as she did the back of the long huts, but this time, in the tiny wheelhouse on the borrowed rush boat, it was noisier.

Stomp, stomp--

"Katara!" Her brother bellowed, turning to look over his shoulder at the girl. She looked up sharply, caught mid-stride with her braid twisted into a knot around her hands. "Would you please stop doing that? You'll wear a hole in the ship or something!"

The girl whirled away almost immediately, crossing her arms over her chest stiffly. "I can't help it!" she snapped, only barely resisting the urge to start pacing again. She was nervous, scared for Aang's safety--scared for the world's safety!--and all she could do was pray that Zuko's convoy would make poor time moving inland. They needed to find Appa, and fast, but for all the good the maps and scrolls left behind had done them they were at least another hour away from the island they had left him on. Katara wondered if, perhaps, Prince Zuko had only been trying to get rid of them after all; it felt like they were on a wild goose chase.

She clenched her fists, blunt fingernails digging into her upper arms through the thin fabric of her tunic, and let out what seemed to be the thousandth heavy sigh that day before exploding. "We shouldn't have left Aang behind!" the Waterbender all but shouted, making Sokka jump a little in surprise. He was almost certain that the boat pitched underfoot as she spoke, and he had to scramble to make sure they kept to their course. "There's no way we'll make it to the White Tiger River before nightfall!"

"All we can do is try, Katara!" Sokka squeaked, heaving a heavy sigh of relief on seeing that the ship had not gone too far off course; they were still headed due south at an alarming speed. It was one thing for Appa to move faster than a naval ship--Appa was aerodynamic and knew how to dodge without being told to--but Sokka was convinced that, going as quickly as they were, even the slightest obstacle would be their end. That was something he did not want to think about; they could not afford anything slowing them down.

The Water Tribe warrior knew full well the enormity of their task, the likelihood of failure--he was not sure whether to be thankful that Prince Zuko had accidentally let slip exactly where to find his party, or if it would have been better to try flying blind. Having only a few hours to collect Appa, infiltrate the Fire Nation's largest island, rescue Aang and get back out was ten thousand times more stressful than having a few months to save the world!

But right now he needed to calm Katara down before she snapped again and sent them off course. A lucky glance at the control panel offered temporary wheel and engine locks (or rather, he sorely hoped that was what 'auto' meant) and he hurried to secure the controls before turning to his sister. She still had her back to him, and looked as tense as a tiger-seal trap, ready to snap shut at the slightest provocation. "Katara, come here," he said, earning a quizzical look that strongly resembled a dark glare. Without further explanation, the older boy turned her to face him properly, guiding her into his arms for tight hug. Katara went rigid, but only for an instant, and then with a quivering sigh forced herself to relax--minimally--and returned the embrace.

"I can't do anything. I can't even get us there faster," she whispered, clenching blue eyes shut in her frustration. She had tried; she'd tried more than once, and there had been no results. Comforting though her brother's hug was, it was confining; their timeframe was confining; but her limited abilities were even worse. What good could Waterbending do in a situation like this if she could not even make the boat move faster? If they couldn't get inland and find him by morning, Aang would be on his way to the capitol for execution--and none of the maps she had found while scouring the ship were of any use. They showed nothing inside the Fire Nation; just its surrounding waters. "If we don't make it in time, Aang's done for! We all are! And this stupid boat doesn't have anything that will help us…"

"We have one advantage," Sokka cut in, drawing back to flash a grin for Katara's benefit. Keeping a hand on her shoulder, he pulled her toward the table closest to the controls, where piles of charts and maps all but covered even the built-in magnetic compass he was using to navigate. A quick shuffle produced the floor plans for the rush boat, with hastily scribbled notes for speed and carrying capacity in the margins. "This rush boat has enough room for a team of rhinos in the hull," he explained, sounding more optimistic than he felt. He did not quite have faith in his own plan, but Katara needed it almost more than he did. She fixed a blank look on his face, as if to ask how space for rhinos they didn't have was going to help them in any way, looking more defeated than Sokka had ever thought was possible. It made his chest ache. "The ceiling is high--for loading, or storing more weapons, or something--but it's big. It'll be tight, but it should be big enough to fit Appa."

It took a few moments for his words to sink in--too preoccupied with her worries, Katara had trouble seeing what good fitting Appa into the ship would do them. But the pieces soon fell into place, and for the first time since their capture the afternoon prior Katara's eyes lit up with the beginnings of a spark of hope. "We can sneak him into port unnoticed…"

"And with the fog behind us, no one should see us unloading him," Sokka finished for her. He smiled, and to both his relief and immeasurable delight, Katara returned his smile with one of her own. He gave her shoulder a final, reassuring squeeze, then released her to return to the wheel. It was a long shot--there was not much further he could stretch realism before it became blind optimism--but they would have to take it.

---

Not long after leaving the Fire Nation to pursue the Avatar, Prince Zuko had to come to terms with the fact that his exile came with a certain degree of real separation from things he had been long accustomed to as Fire Nation royalty. He recalled dimly a visit to the military aviary nearest the palace, where his uncle had taken him on a tour of the entire compound, shown him the differences between the scores of messenger hawks and pet hawks. The pets were much smaller, with almost daintier frames and shortened talons--for the most part, even the females were more brightly colored, and their temperaments were all around more docile.

The messenger hawks were more awe-inspiring than attractive; larger bodies, heavier set, with much larger wingspans. Their eyes were sharper, often rimmed by rings of darker feathers that brought out the golds and greens with an intensity that, as a child, Zuko could not help being afraid of.

One summer, not long after his mother's disappearance, he had gone to choose a hawk of his own. Though out of season, his uncle had promised it as a birthday gift for when he turned fifteen. Delighted, Zuko had gone through the stalls of hatchlings, peering into incubators with little thought of which would grow up to be the biggest or the strongest, or whether his had the most impressive lineage. He wanted to find the right hawk; not the best.

To his uncle's delight, Zuko's final choice had been one of the smaller chicks--a cross-breed between one of the larger pet hawks and a small messenger hawk, with pale coloring and light yellow eyes. The little prince's reasoning at the time had been that he could tell (as most children were inherently able to do) that his hawk would be the best and brightest--and that if it were not, that it would be his best and brightest, so it would be fine.

But the hawk did not grow quickly, and when the Fire Lord exiled them, Iroh had to tell his nephew not to bring the bird along; the sea was treacherous, the winds too powerful to risk letting the bird fly about, and Zuko had to leave it behind.

The hawks they had been able to bring along were seasoned and old; a mated pair whose hatchlings had already grown and who were long since infertile. Iroh spoke highly of them despite their age, for he knew the birds to be quite sharper than they looked, even if the male spent much more time sleeping than flying, and the female looked a little fatter than a flying creature should. They were his hawks--and like the Dragon of the West, they were stronger than they looked.

"Xian will take the letter to the dock master; Shui is better suited for the other task, don't you think, Prince Zuko?" Iroh asked, already having secured the scroll inside his half-asleep hawk's carrying satchel. Xian ruffled his feathers a little, trying either to wake up fully or settle back into a comfortable sleep. It had been weeks since he had flown any great distance--circling the ship in the early morning hours for exercise hardly counted for much--and in his old age, the hawk had little interest in it.

Prince Zuko had no faith in his uncle's birds, any sooner than he would have entrusted the Avatar's lemur with fine silk. He scowled, arms crossed firmly over his chest, and looked away stiffly. "I don't think either of them is strong enough to fly anywhere," he said bitterly, looking toward the open door, where the guard had apparently abandoned his post for an early lunch. "We should've brought my bird. Yours are too old and lazy."

"Nonsense," Iroh scoffed, stroking the female hawk's wing soothingly. She was giving the Fire Prince a sharp look; sizing him up as if to see whether she could take him--with a wingspan almost broader than a rhino's shoulders, she very well might have been able to do it, if she tried. The old bird settled, though, soothed by her master's hand. Killing the fledgling would teach it nothing. Uncle Iroh seemed to read his bird's thoughts and let out a quiet chuckle, reaching for the parchment she would carry. "Shui knows how to find her way. Don't you, my dear?"

Unable to really tolerate his uncle sweet-talking a hawk (did the man even realize that birds could not understand humans?), the exiled prince turned away. For a moment he had considered saying something unkind--something he didn't mean--about the animal and its owner, but he had the presence of mind to stop himself. Lashing out at his uncle did nothing good--it wouldn't make the messenger hawks fly any faster, and it would not make the knot of guilt in his stomach loosen.

Sending out hawks with instructions made the plan more concrete, left a paper trail, gave proof, even just to the Avatar's friends, that he was working against the Fire Nation's best interests, against his father. It was tangible evidence that he was still the disloyal, disobedient son that Ozai had exiled two years prior--thinking not for the interests of the people who mattered most, but for the people who meant nothing in the long run, rookie soldiers and himself included--and that he had no right to set foot on Fire Nation shores ever again.

Or, for that matter, that he had never deserved to be allowed in the Fire Nation to begin with.

Knowing that he was too far along to turn back, and knowing full well on one level that he had to be doing the right thing, letting the Avatar go, because there surely was a balance to uphold, and that honor was not something that a child's life could buy, did not strengthen his fraying resolve--if anything, it tore him further, because in knowing that helping the Avatar was the right choice, he also knew on a deeper level that it meant his father had to be wrong about the war. Following his own beliefs, his instincts and heart, his sense of honor, had been what got him exiled to begin with. Two winters later, he ought to have known better--but with the chance to go home right in front of him, he found himself making the same stupid choice again.

Even if it was for a different reason, even if it was for Aang, and regardless of the fact that the child was also the Avatar, the choice was the same. And the punishment if he were caught would be ten thousand times worse.

Uncle Iroh very nearly jumped at the sound of the heavy iron door slamming shut behind him, and he looked back over his shoulder to see that his nephew had fled. The old man sighed, shaking his head slowly, idly smoothing Xian's feathers. "It has been a very long morning for him," he explained, and the hawk settled down, soothed more by the attention than the justification for the exiled prince's actions. The retired general heaved a sigh, producing a second slip of parchment from the folds of his robe, and he moved to secure the note around Shui's ankle. The bird looked baffled--she already had her message to pass on, safely rolled up in the canister strapped to the harness on her back--and her master winked surreptitiously at her. "Let us hope this will make it easier for tomorrow, mm?"

---

The corridors to his private chambers blurred together in a mass of red and gray as Prince Zuko fled--his reckless running could be described as nothing else as he nearly bowled over three soldiers on three separate occasions and all but toppled down a ladder--his mind a whirl of accusatory thoughts that betrayed him at every turn. Either he was a traitor, to his father, to his home and people, or he was dishonorable and heartless, a selfish man for putting his life above another boy's, above the whole world--and Prince Zuko did not want to face any of these possibilities.

It was Aang's fault. While it was not comforting to consider this, it was infallibly true; if the little Airbender had been a little older--an old man, or even a young man--with more life experience under his belt, at least another two elements mastered, or if he were the despicable coward he had always imagined himself to be pursuing, handing him over to the Fire Lord would have been easy. Zuko cursed himself silently, halting as he came to the door to his bedchambers and spun the lock with both hands. If he hadn't been so stupid, and had just locked the Avatar away below deck rather than indulge in his ridiculous urge to be near the boy, to get to know him better the night before--

He flung the door open with a nearly deafening slam, causing the child in question to jump where he sat cross-legged in front of Zuko's altar. Once again clad in his usual orange and yellow, Aang looked no different than he had the first time the Fire Prince had captured him--he was still small and young, and more confused than frightened, and worse than anything else he could have possibly been, he was still innocent.

"Zuko?" Aang's voice was almost a whisper, and he rose from his seated position as the older boy shut the door behind him once more. He moved slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, though whether he thought the Fire Prince had gone mad or was otherwise hurt was impossible to tell.

Breathing heavily, steam rising with his breath, Prince Zuko made up the distance between them in three strides and grabbed Aang by the shoulders. The older boy said nothing for a half moment, still panting, trying to catch his breath, and Aang waited, staring up at him with an eyebrow raised in apparent confusion.

Zuko's hands were trembling--he distantly blamed his haphazard sprint across the ship, though that might not have been the cause at all--and his palms were sweaty. He did not bother trying to explain himself, however, and with a sudden jerk crushed Aang against his chest, earning a startled squeak from the little monk. He ignored it, ignored the feel of the boy pushing at him to get away, and he ignored his mild protests.

"I won't let you go," he wheezed, shutting his eyes against the realization that he had to. Aang's hands against his chest stilled. The Fire Prince tightened his hold on the younger boy in response, trapping him, as if he were afraid that Aang might slip through his fingers like smoke if he did not hold on tightly enough.

The air felt heavy in Aang's lungs, and though he realized it had gone stale the little Avatar could not draw in breath. His lungs were squashed against his ribs, with no room left to inhale, and it did not look like Zuko had any intention of loosening his grip. "Zuko…" he tried, craning his neck to try meeting the Firebender's eyes, but he could not turn enough to do it. Squirming, he wiggled one hand out from between them, leaving enough room to draw in a quick gulp of oxygen before Zuko could clamp down on him again.

For the briefest instant, Zuko felt a rush of panic at the thought that Aang might try to escape now, and he shook his head fiercely. He still had one more day. "I won't!"

"Zuko I can't breathe!"

It took a full four seconds for Zuko's mind to form the connection between the need to breathe and the space Aang needed to accomplish that, and he pulled back a little to give him more room--but still, his hold on the younger boy was vice-like. Not because he thought Aang could run, with the door closed behind him and the ship well into Fire Nation waters, but because he needed convincing. He needed to convince himself that this was still right; that he could do the right thing without losing everything all over again.

That even if he let Aang go now, he could reach out and capture him again someday, when it would be fair, and go home for good without regrets.

The Fire Prince almost spoke then, but Aang cut him off. "I know you can't let me go," he murmured, eyes downcast, darkened by a quiet resignation that Zuko wished he hadn't noticed. The boy was quiet for a moment, then looked up at his captor, gray eyes glassy, but clear, and although he tried to smile it was more painful than reassuring. "It's okay. I wasn't expecting you to. You let Katara and Sokka go--that's enough for me, really. I understand."

Zuko felt his heart all but plunge into his stomach, weighted by the guilt that came from knowing that he had been lying, and that he could not take it back; he could not afford to promise Aang anything, neither in the form of guaranteed freedom nor safety--or even civility--if his friends did not make it in time to save him. Even with a map, and instructions, and whatever else his uncle planned to slip them, the Water Tribe children had a much steeper hill to climb than he thought they could manage.

"You can't understand," the exiled prince countered, taking a pace back to look Aang over. He himself did not fully understand why and what he was doing, so there was no way Aang, a mere child who did not even know what was in store for him, could grasp it sooner, or fuller, than he did.

"I do." Aang sounded surer of himself than Prince Zuko could ever remember being, and it made him feel painfully uncomfortable. Worse yet, when the boy looked back up at him, there was no anger, not even a hint of betrayal that should have come with the belief that he was to be given over to the Fire Lord. The Fire Prince could not wrap his mind around it, around what on Earth could make the boy so damnably understanding--it wasn't natural, and it was almost inhuman--

It was fitting for the Avatar, and Zuko surprised himself by almost forgetting just who he was thinking about; in his mind, he had almost separated the boy from his title.

"There's just one little thing I don't get," Aang said. Prince Zuko jolted, brought back to reality by the boy's face suddenly mere inches from his. Wide gray eyes stared at him, openly curious, and the older boy all but froze under his gaze. Unperturbed, Aang went on, inching closer as Zuko tried to lean away. "I heard you and your uncle talking out there, and I think I know why you let my friends go."

For the second time in only a handful of minutes, Prince Zuko felt his heart freeze, gripped by panic with enough force to rival a hawk's talons. Aang was young, and he was certainly not brilliant, but if he had figured it out then surely his crew would, too. And he knew full well how easily his enemies could extract information from his men, remembering vividly Commander Zhao's interrogation not long after his first encounter with the Avatar; news traveled fast, and if his father found out that he had let the Avatar go he would--

The boy paused, watching the look of guilt, followed by fear, as it washed across Prince Zuko's pale face before he could get his expression under control. Really, it hadn't been that hard to discern why the teenager would release his friends. Aang frowned. "I just don't know why you would let them leave if you like Katara that much."

The exiled prince froze, his train of thought all but skidding to a halt, and though he opened his mouth to ask what in the name of anything even remotely sacred would give the boy a crazy idea like that, he found that he could produce no sound. His vocal chords were not cooperative, and from where Aang stood he probably looked like some kind of exotic fish, with the color slowly returning to his cheeks and his eyes wide.

He hadn't been found out.

The Avatar had no idea what he was planning.

Despite all his eerie perceptiveness and occasional wisdom gleaned from having hundreds of past lives to draw from, Aang did not know.

"Wh… what?" Prince Zuko managed, shaking his head slowly, trying hard not to let his relief show--he succeeded in only looking confused. His pride chastised him silently; that was not much better.

Aang had not been expecting a mild reaction--with Prince Zuko, nothing was ever mild--and he wondered if perhaps, he had been wrong; nothing on the older boy's face spoke of having a dirty secret exposed, and if there was anything he had learned about Zuko in the last twenty-four hours it was that he did not hide emotions well, unless he was masking them with anger. Confusion was not anywhere near the same thing. "Well…" he started almost defensively, ticking off each point on one hand as he spoke, "I heard you shouting about love and romance, and you got upset earlier when your uncle was teasing you about her; that's usually a sure sign you like someone," If Sokka's vehement refusal to admit his feelings for Suki was any indication; Aang had never been called on his crush on Katara, or for that matter any other passing infatuation he had experienced. "And you gave her a boat. You don't give someone a gift like that unless you like them."

Prince Zuko stared, eyebrow raised, mouth hanging open for a handful of seconds as he tried without luck to process Aang's words; it all sounded ridiculous, there was no denying that, but from a child's perspective… especially when Aang claimed to understand why he could not free him, even when that was his true intention, he could see where he might come up with that kind of explanation. Under different circumstances that logic might have worked, but the boat was an expensive loss, hardly some trinket of affection that ought to be passed between lovers.

Between the maps and technology it contained it could be a viable threat to his country's security in the wrong hands--and in the possession of a couple of peasants from the Southern Water Tribe, who did actively work against the Fire Nation, it could prove disastrous. The Fire Prince wondered which was worse; the idea that someone other than Aang might think he had given the Water Tribe girl a token of love, or the fact that giving her and her brother a means of saving the Avatar from almost certain execution could enable the Earth Kingdom to somehow infiltrate their waters and attack from within the country's boarders.

"I don't like that girl," Prince Zuko said finally, trying to keep his voice measured to leave no opening for Aang to accuse him of being in denial. "She's annoying, loud, obnoxious, and a peasant. I just wanted her off my ship."

"But you could've sent someone with them," Aang cut in, frowning, "You won't get your boat back this way."

"I don't care about the boat." That was not entirely true; he had only replaced it a few days prior, following the incident with the pirates losing his old rush boat over a waterfall. Seeing Aang's look of suspicion (when had the boy gotten so good at catching him lying?), Zuko added, knowing that it was a lie and that Aang might not believe him; "I could get a new one if I needed it. Which I don't. After tomorrow, I won't even need one."

Aang had almost forgotten that he would never have to chase him around the world by boat once they made land; unless he did manage to escape, Zuko would never have to so little as look at another ship if he had no mind to. For that matter, even if he did get away, the likelihood that the Fire Prince would be allowed to follow him after returning to the land he had been exiled from was slim to none--and somehow, that thought made his heart hurt.

The boy was silent, simultaneously thankful and baffled by the knowledge that his theory was wrong; he by no means wanted Zuko to have his eyes set on Katara, though he would not have blamed him for it. A twinge of jealousy pulled his lips into a frown; Aang knew he would have been furious to see his best friend with the Fire Prince. Especially when he could see where she might want to be--despite his big words and erratic mood swings, Prince Zuko was a good person; he was warm and nice to be around, and while Aang could not really put his finger on it, there was something comforting about being near him.

Oddly enough, Aang found that he was more concerned with keeping Zuko out of Katara's arms, rather than the other way around.

"Then…" Aang started slowly, crossing his arms for a moment before raising one hand to tap at his chin, apparently deep in thought, and Prince Zuko watched him, relieved to know that he had been quick to drop the idea that he would be in love with the peasant girl. The simple truth was that he very well may have been doing this because he liked someone--but it wasn't either of Aang's friends, and he was very nearly certain that it had nothing to do with the type of like the little Air monk had been talking about.

The fact that he dreamed about the boy on a near-regular basis, and that there was nothing platonic about those dreams, was completely irrelevant. It did not mean anything.

If he told himself that ten thousand more times, every day, maybe it would eventually be true.

Finally, Aang raised his chin and met the Fire Prince's eyes. He looked determined, as if he had finally figured it out--because in his mind's eye, he had the only remaining answer. "Then, is it Sokka you like?"

For the second time in only a handful of minutes, Zuko's mind came to a screeching halt. This time, however, after staring incredulously at the Avatar for a few seconds, he laughed. But it was not the short, measured chuckle that long years of self-restraint had instilled in the prince; it was crisp, and clean, unrestrained, and although he had been wrong, Aang could not help grinning. The smile suited the Fire Prince, he decided, and it warmed his heart, a faint glow that he wanted to hold onto for more than just another moment.

"Because I gave him…" Prince Zuko snorted, covering his mouth belatedly to hide his grin and earning a snicker from Aang. "A boat, right? Is that it? That's so… so stupid!"

He was still laughing, too hard to hear Aang's quiet affirmative (because it was an expensive boat), and it took more effort than he had thought was possible to stop; the idea was ridiculous, but it surely wasn't that funny. If anything, it felt like he had been storing this laughter, waiting for an opportune moment to release it, and when he had calmed enough to finally stop, Zuko found that the well had hardly run dry; he was still close to breaking down into giggles again.

Wiping his eye, trying valiantly to push down the urge to snicker again, the Fire Prince shook his head. "I don't like your peasant friends," he said finally, steadying himself with a hand to Aang's shoulder. "I don't like any peasants."

Aang frowned, not the least bit pleased by the older boy's answer. He was not about to argue that, at the very least, Zuko should care about the peasants in his own country--or that regardless of class, people were people, and everyone was worth caring about. He sighed, shrugging the exiled prince's hand off of his shoulder and looking up at him with an expression caught between disappointment and heartache. "I'm a peasant too," he murmured, giving Zuko a pointed look. "You don't like me either, then?"

As quickly as it had come, the Firebender felt his good humor ebb away, pulled from him much like water wrung out of a sea sponge. He wondered distantly whether Aang realized what control he had over others' emotions, but there was no time to mull it over or address it. "No," Zuko said hastily, "You don't count. You're--"

"The Avatar, right?" Aang's words were hard, voice tight, "That's the only reason you've been nice to me, even though you're gonna take me to the Fire Lord! Is that it, Zuko?"

Yes, at first, but that was not the real reason, not anymore, and the Fire Prince could neither come clean nor immediately think of an excuse--Aang's face was scrunched, scowling darkly, but his eyes were sad, as if he had been stabbed between the shoulder blades by someone far dearer to him than his enemy rightly should have been.

Prince Zuko faltered, opening his mouth to say something before shutting it again, because he was certain--and rightly so--that whatever he did say would be the wrong thing. He frowned, brows furrowing. "That's not it!" he managed, but Aang hardly looked convinced. The boy stood, arms akimbo, waiting impatiently, but with the good grace to stay silent, and Zuko bit his lip, trying hard to gather his words and thoughts when both eluded him.

The Fire Prince reached out, grabbing Aang's wrists in a loose hold, careful of the bruises the ropes had left the night prior. "Look, I… Aang, I just like you, all right?" His complexion darkened, an unmistakable blush, and although he knew it was cowardly he avoided Aang's gaze. "You're different. I don't care if you're a peasant, a monk, or the Avatar. I let your friends go to make you feel better. That's all."

Part Seven: Owari