Prompt: Hello

The streamlined submarine was hard to spot in the midst of the old warships (their hulls filled with exports, not instruments of death), but Zuko had an advantage. Despite servants' pleas for him to come down to safety, the Firelord had scampered into a crow's nest Suki-style, armed with a certain old telescope. He had been waiting since midday, and it was near dusk. But the nineteen-year-old monarch wasn't discouraged or impatient. All day he had been fantasizing. When he had been...well, not normal for his age, but surrounded by others who understood. When they were still at war, but after he had won the war within himself. When he wasn't yet Lord, but long past Prince.

Sokka. It surprised him, really, how much he missed the guy. The warrior had despised him and refused to trust him for most of their adventures. But now the Water Tribe boy's messenger hawk was run ragged with long-distance messages. Zuko was surrounded by advisors and nobles and servants, and he was so tired of it all. So tired of not being able to talk to someone who allowed him to leave his title at the door.

He missed Toph and Aang, too, but of course they were in the Earth Kingdom. Oh well. He'd see them on Ember Island in a few months. The reunion had been the Avatar's idea, and an entire committee had been formed, which wasted no time in concocting elaborate plans.

He even missed Suki and Ty Lee. Sokka had sent a message a few days ago (or rather, he had received it then; he estimated it took Hawky almost a week of flying) informing him that the sub was stopping to pick up his girlfriend. Awkward and half-grudging as both boys secretly felt about the acrobat, Zuko felt himself cheered even without her physical presence. Maybe that aura stuff had rubbed off on him.

But the cause of his drastic actions wasn't his sister's friend-turned-enemy. It definitely wasn't Suki; the two of them could barely speak comfortably despite his numerous apologies and her forgiveness. No, it wasn't even Sokka, Zuko's closest friend.

It was...someone. Someone he couldn't even bear to name. Whatever was churning in his stomach threatened to spill over if he broke that unwritten rule, even in his thoughts, even whispered in an otherwise empty room, even up here where the breeze was cool and he was all alone.

Even without a definite identity, thinking about her (he could stand to specify the gender in his thoughts) was something he could only tease at.

"I wonder if she's wearing her hair in that braid again."

Braid. Thinking about her braid made her think about the South Pole. Thinking about the South Pole made him think about the cold. Thinking about the cold made him think about the clothes he'd worn when he went there. Thinking about the clothes made him think about the kind of person he was back then. Thinking about that made him think him think about the person she had thought he was. Thinking about what she thought of him made him think about what he thought about her.

What did he think about her?

The setting sun alerted him from his thoughts. He hadn't even looked, the dimming light and decrease in energy was like splash of freezing water.

"They should be coming soon..."

Because the sun was going down. Sokka had said they'd be in the harbor by the time the sun set.

He rose and set with the sun. She rose and set with the moon.

It was full tonight, he observed. Maybe she'd give him a bloodbending demonstration (much as she hated herself for having that power).

Wait, what was he going to say to her when she arrived?

He started to put together some sort of friendly greeting that didn't ooze the feeling of "I-haven't-seen-you-since-you-turned-fifteen-and-I've-been-thinking-about-you-every-second-since" that was increasing by the minute. A blue flash startled him out of his thoughts. Having abandoned the telescope to his own musings, the Water Tribe transport had (as his luck would have it) reached the harbor and whoever was directing it was now searching for a place to park.

"Agni, they're here!"

Grabbing the rope, he slid down to the deck. Unsteady on his feet for a moment, the Firelord, now master bender, crumpled to the ground. Generally undamaged, he scrambled to his feet and sprinted to the end of the dock, not caring about his subjects (now staring and gossiping with one another) or his dignity. In his rush he tripped on an uneven plank in the wood and flew forward a good few feet...

...landing with an audible thunk on the front of the submarine.

Through the (of course it would be) untinted window, she was staring, jaw agape.

"Um...hello?"