"What's wrong?" Toph rasps the following morning when Zuko arrives at her house. She looks like she's been dragged him from her bed, sleep pants rumpled, hair matted down on one side. "Fuck, should I be at the station?"

"I'm looking for your roommate," Zuko says.

Toph steps aside to let him in. "He's probably asleep," she says, closing the door behind Zuko. "Heard him pacing around at all hours. Go on in." Zuko steps through a door, smiling a little at the college student feel of the tiny room. The furniture is not much more than two lumpy sofas and a giant TV. There's an admirable amount of game consoles and other video related paraphernalia scattered around piles and piles of books. Everything is a shade of brown or black, except for the purple lamp without a shade, and a surprisingly healthy looking cactus.

"Hey," Aang says, just as Zuko is yanking his finger away from a savage needle. "I meant to call you last night."

Zuko looks up; Aang seems tired, but not like he just woke up, more like he hasn't slept. "Sorry, I should have called you."

Aang shrugs. "Katara texted. She told me everyone was okay. I just wanted to say sorry, really. You left me in charge of all three of them and, and—" He stops, knuckling at his eyes. "One minute he was there beside us, and then..."

"It's okay," Zuko says quietly. "That monster can move fast when he wants to, and it could have been a lot worse."

"For a few minutes I thought it was. Thankfully Katara was there to save the day." His words and tone sound measured and deliberate, and Zuko's not too sure what to take from either.

"It was a stroke of luck that she was nearby."

"Luck," Aang echoes, lips twisting in a parody of a smile, as if Zuko's missed the point. But he doesn't clarify, so Zuko puts the weirdness down to shock and thesis stress. The guy is probably exhausted.

"Well, with all the excitement, I forgot to pay you," he says, pulling an envelope from his pocket.

"Oh, thanks." Aang takes it, eyes widening at the bulk and the weight of it in his hand. "Did you pay me in ones? Not that I really mind, as they're really all I can afford to spend right now… woah." He pulls out the cash and stares at it. "I think you made a mistake at the ATM. There must be, wow. There must be a thousand dollars here."

"Only half is from me and the girls. The rest is a gift from the committee. It's a combined thank you for everything and good luck with your paper and please don't leave me forever."

"Wow," Aang says, still eyeing the bills in disbelief. "This is amazing. Completely unnecessary, but amazing." He looks up at Zuko. "I don't know what to say."

Zuko shrugs, feeling uncomfortable under the weight of so much gratitude. "Come to dinner sometime next week, yeah? Let the girls pick on you for a bit. They're going to miss that."

"I thought I might take them bowling after school today, if that's okay?" Aang says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I was thinking of a game or two, but now that I'm a man of means, we can hire a lane for a couple of hours. Maybe get some burgers and milkshakes."

"Sure," Zuko says. "But don't tell them you have money. Aya's been looking for someone to bankroll her buying a real tiger. Also, they can pay for their own food out of the swearing hush money they've been extorting from you."

Aang laughs and follows Zuko to the door just as Toph bounds down the stairs.

"What, you're leaving without saying goodbye?" she calls.

"Toph, I'm loaded!" Aang shouts, spinning in a circle that makes Zuko dizzy to watch.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Zuko says. "Also, watch for that cord—"

Aang trips over the lamp cord and crashes into the couch as Toph tilts her head. "What are you two knuckleheads talking about?"

"Boss man is spreading the financial love," Aang says, and Toph whistles before narrowing her eyes.

"Only to you?"

"Don't feel unloved, Toph, I've got something for you, too," Zuko says, pulling a sheet of paper from his pocket, feeling the bumps that trail across it. "Your copy of next week's schedule. The new guy, Jet, will be shadowing you. Don't break him."

"I was hoping for something more abundant and rectangular and valuable," Toph complains. "Hey, Twinkle Toes, you wanna throw all that up in the air and we can roll around in it when it hits the ground? I've always wanted to do that."

Zuko leaves them to it.

::

He finds himself thinking of Katara throughout the day, feeling silly when smiles come unbidden and have to be bitten off, when little surges of adrenaline make his pulse speed up, when his stomach feels too full for lunch. He's too old to be feeling like this, he reminds himself. Too dad, too Sheriff, too jaded.

Too gone for any of that to matter, though. He wants to roll in that first flush of something new, something big, something special. He wants to do crushed-up things like request sappy love songs on the local radio station, or change his status on his long neglected facebook to you should see what I just locked down, or ask Katara to send him a selfie that he can save on his phone as his lockscreen.

But he's not going to do any of those things, and he's not going to usurp the girls from their rightful place as utmost importance of his images. He might send a text though. Something witty, but cool. Casual, but interested. Snappy, but teasing.

He mulls over it on the drive up to the wasteland owned by Alfie Griffin but he still has nothing by the time he gets there. Pulling out his phone, he resigns himself to sending an uninspiring hi.

There's a message waiting on his screen. So where are you taking me on our first date?

Zuko's fingers are impatient as he scrolls through the rest of the messages Katara has sent.

No pressure, but it should be somewhere spectacular.

Also, hi.

And I hope you're having a good day.

"Of course you do," Zuko mumbles, grinning widely as his fingers fly over the keys. "You sap." He wants to send back a text that tells her just how much better his day suddenly got, but he's keeping a rein on his dignity.

Hi. The girls are going out with Aang this evening. How about Bar Sing Se? Wanna scandalize the locals?

Katara replies in seconds. Not even a little.

He quickly types out—There's a great place in Milton that does take out? They don't deliver, but I could go pick it up. We could eat at mine? Let me know and I'll get back to you later. I'm about to investigate a… wait for it… fishnapping.

Katara texts again before he's stepped out of the car. Sounds dangerous. Should I be worried about you?

Zuko laughs, more than a little pleased by the idea of her being worried about him. Do not fear, good citizen. I'm here to fight for truth, and justice, and the safety of fish everywhere.

His phone buzzes almost immediately. My hero.

Oh, yeah? Zuko shoots back. And what rewards await your hero when he returns from this most perilous of quests?

What would you like?

Zuko jigs the phone in his fingers for a few long seconds, and decides to take a chance. Your hero might be in need of a life-affirming kiss. He's beginning to regret it when there's nothing but silence a minute later, and he has no choice but to step away from the cruiser and head towards a frantically waving Alfie. He's about to put his phone back into his pocket when it chimes twice in quick succession.

This is our first proper date, Zuko.

So you'll get a beer, dinner, and some life-affirming second base action.

Zuko puts his phone away for sure this time.

He'll take that, no complaints at all.

::

The fishnapping is upgraded to a fishicide. It takes Zuko some time to convince Alfie that his prize winning goldfish were not stolen for nefarious purposes.

"I have enemies," Alfie declares.

Zuko doesn't doubt it; Alfie is the very definition of curmudgeon. "So do your fish," he says, lifting a piece of nearby hedge and pointing to the paw prints in the loose soil. "I reckon this was the culprit's escape route."

Alfie bends down to examine the ground more carefully. "A cat attack?"

"Probably," Zuko says with a sympathetic sigh. Most of the sympathy is for himself. "Felis Catus."

"What's that then?" Alfie asks, huffing himself upright again. "Mountain lion? Jaguar?"

"Jag—" Zuko begins, and then stops, mouthing the rest of the word. "Um, no. We're pretty light on jaguars around here. I'm thinking more domestic cat."

"Those bastards," Alfie grits, looking around like one might suddenly pounce and attack. "I'll shoot them if I see them." He shakes his fist in the air, a warning to any cat that might be stealthily casing the joint.

Zuko sighs again. What is it with this town and its readiness to immediately reach for a shotgun. It's nothing short of a miracle that nobody has been killed. "You will not. Your land isn't fenced, your boundaries aren't clearly marked. What if you mistake a toddler for a cat?"

Alfie looks confused. "What would a toddler be doing all the way up here?"

That's a pretty valid point. It would be more likely to see a jaguar than a child anywhere near Alfie's land. "I don't know," Zuko admits. "Maybe it went for a walk with its parents and got lost. But you do enough complaining about your cataracts for me to be very nervous about the idea of you firing a gun at small things that move."

Alfie shifts uncomfortably, running his hands over his ample belly until one of his fingers catches in the hole of his ratty cardigan. "Got an appointment to see that New Age girl about these damned things," he grumbles, pointing to his eyes with his other hand.

"Of course you do," Zuko replies, not even remotely surprised.

"I guess I'll just lay some poison, then."

Zuko shakes his head. "You're not doing that, either. The wildlife around here is barely holding on, and we really don't want what's left of it to commit involuntary mass suicide on your land."

Alfie's face gets pretty red, and he licks at his already slippery lips. "I have a right to protect my fish!" he exclaims.

"What fish?" Zuko counters, casting an eye at the empty pond.

"The ones I'm going to have to buy. Hey, do you think the insurance people will pay for replacements?"

"I don't know," Zuko says slowly. "Were your fish insured?"

Alfie's face says no. "So get a net to cover the pond when you buy more," Zuko says. "Maybe mention it to Katara when you see her. She might…" Have some cat deterring crystals, know a fish protection chant, get a little visualization going, go into the fish business with you. "...have some ideas."

On the way back to the station, Zuko takes the scenic route which brings him down towards the Mourns. When he gets to the clearing, he catches some movement from the corner of his eye, and slows down, really hoping this isn't orange-glow related. But it's nothing more extraordinary than the rotavator in action.

Playing hooky, huh, Zuko thinks, drawing up alongside the gates. There's nothing pressing waiting for him at work, nothing that can't be put off until later, or tomorrow even.

Ma'am, would you mind stepping out of the vehicle, and please keep your hands where I can't see them. Preferably in my pants.

It's probably as well that he doesn't open with that, because when he rounds the corner he discovers that Katara's not alone. There's a figure bent over the soil, dragging a trowel through the earth.

"Hello," he says cautiously, and the person startles before straightening and spinning to face him. "Michi?"

His mother-in-law looks every bit as surprised as Zuko does, and not especially pleased either. It makes him feel like he's intruded on something that wasn't for his eyes.

She claps her gloved hands together, shaking some of the soil from them. "What are you doing here?"

"I was passing," Zuko shrugs, pointing at the road beyond the house. "Saw the rotavator. Thought Katara might be here."

"Well, she isn't," she says, clipped.

"Right," Zuko says. "But you are." He looks over at the tractor, watching it turn the soil over, creating a dirty looking blizzard. "That's not her in there?"

Michi's mouth narrows a little and she finds a spot on the ground to stare at. "Katara said we wouldn't be disturbed."

"I didn't know you knew her."

"She called to my house a couple of weeks ago, looking for some flower cuttings. She knew I was florist, and we got to talking a bit over coffee, and well…" She trails off, looking up and around her. Anywhere but at Zuko. "She told me about this place, said she could do with a hand. And she also said that we wouldn't be disturbed."

"Sorry," Zuko says, jamming his hands in his pockets. "Like I said, I was passing, and Katara wouldn't have known I'd be here. So, I—I'll probably find her back at the store."

Michi nods, like it might be a good idea for Zuko to go do that now.

The engine on the tractor goes silent, and Zuko watches as a figure jumps down and begins walking towards them. It's a man, and as he draws closer, Zuko realizes that he's vaguely familiar. His hair is gelled back, his clothes shabby and a little too big for him.

"Sheriff," he says, nodding at Zuko.

"Hello," Zuko returns, confused.

The man twists his hands and takes a breath. "I'm glad you're here," he says softly, but with purpose. "I want to apologize for all the injury I have brought upon you, both professionally and personally. I take full responsibility for the harm that I have caused, and wish to make amends for my actions."

It takes Zuko three more seconds. "Long Feng?" he says, utterly amazed. "Is that you?"

"Yes, sir. Ten days sober now," Long Feng says, standing straight and proud. He looks taller now that he's not crouching to stay on his feet.

"Wow," Zuko manages. "That's wonderful. That's—Good for you."

"Thank you," Long Feng says genuinely. "And I mean what I say." He bows his head and looks up balefully. "I want to be a better neighbor, a better citizen, a contributing member of the community. So, if you need any jobs done, I'd be very grateful if you'd give me the opportunity to step up. I wouldn't expect to be paid or anything. It'd be an honor to help out."

That's the longest and most coherent thing that Zuko has ever heard Long Feng say, and it's not just the words that are shocking, it's the sincerity behind them. "Sure," he says when the silence makes Long Feng squirm. "If I think of anything. Although, I'm pretty sure Zhao could do with some neighborly help?"

"Zhao told me good fences make good neighbors," Long Feng says, smile wry. "And then he suggested that's where I start, so I spent the morning mending the fences between our yards. Must have done a good job because he rewarded me most kindly with a big slice of the finest cake I ever tasted." He nods formally at Zuko and shuffles backwards. "I'll get back to work, Sheriff. You'll know where to find me if you need me."

"I guess," Zuko says, turning to say goodbye to Michi. But she's already bent over the soil again, Zuko dismissed, and likely forgotten.

::

His legs are wooden as he walks back to the car, his steps almost clunky on the ground. It's like stumbling off the moon. Zuko can't connect with the earth, can't get his feet to resettle beneath him. He hates that feeling of being knocked off kilter, especially when he's not even sure why he's so rattled. It might be just the anger and dumb hurt that's chewing on his insides, but it feels more than that. Bigger than that.

It sits heavily on him during the drive back, Michi sharing something with Katara, and Zuko should be pleased for her, and grateful to Katara. Very pleased and very grateful, but all he's really feeling is excluded from something else in Michi's life. And it's almost as if Katara is facilitating this new exclusion. It feels like a betrayal.

Katara calls just as he's pulling up to the yard. The rational part of Zuko knows that it's best not to answer, knows that the mess in his head is going to come spilling out of his mouth. It's so new, where they are, what they are, and it could still be too fragile to withstand him losing hold of his temper. But rationality is quickly gobbled up by the hurt, reactive part of him kicking for instant gratification.

"Why is Michi up at the Mourns?" he demands, cutting right through Katara's cheerful hello.

Katara breathes loudly down the line. "You went up to the Mourns?" she says, dismayed.

"Was I not supposed to?" Zuko sneers. "Yes, I went up the fucking Mourns, and I saw my mother-in-law doing your gardening or some shit, and she won't even come to Saturday breakfast with me and the girls—"

"I told her she wouldn't be disturbed, Zuko," Katara says. She sounds disappointed, and that really presses hard on his last nerve.

"Yeah, she mentioned that. A couple of times. But why would I be disturbing her, Katara? I'm her family."

"This isn't about you," she says, sharp. "It's about her and what she needs. She goes up there most afternoons, spends hours out in the fresh air, taking an interest in something, falling in love with something again. It's a huge first step for her and right now, it's personal. She'll share when she's ready."

"But she's already sharing with you," Zuko says, and he knows he sounds like an asshole. "You. A stranger. And a miraculously sober Long Feng. But not me. Not her grandchildren. The people who love her and who have been cut out of her life."

There's nothing but static silence for twenty seconds and then Katara sighs. "I have to go up to the Mourns to make sure she's okay. I'll call you later."

She actually couldn't have said anything worse at that moment. "You're kidding me," Zuko snaps, looking down at his hand clenched on the steering wheel, knuckles white with tension and fury. "You need to see if she's okay because she had a two minute conversation with me? What, you're going to comfort her after the trauma of my presence?"

"Of course not," Katara snaps back. "Don't put words in my mouth. I'm going up there—"

"To fix my mess," he cuts in. "Right? I mean, is there anything you can't fix? Hands, feet, backs, allergies, skin diseases, grief, alcoholism? You've got quite the gift there, don't you."

It gets quiet again. The only sound in the car is his harsh breathing.

"What's really bothering you?" she asks eventually.

"This isn't enough?" he shoots back.

"It's plenty. But it's not all."

Yeah, it's not all. It's just that Zuko doesn't have the rest right now. "I—" He's not even sure what's coming after that, but he's stopped by a gentle rap on the window. Piandao from the towing company is waving a hand inches from Zuko's face. "Have to go," he finishes, and hangs up before Katara can reply.

"Afternoon, Sheriff," Piandao says amiably when Zuko rolls the window down. "We got that vehicle from the accident yesterday. Hit your dog, I believe?"

"Yeah," Zuko sighs, wondering what happened to this day that started out so perfectly. "You got a bill for me?"

"No, sir," Piandao replies. "All on the driver, I hear. We've been holding the car until her insurance people got in touch. Some company from, uh—" He pokes around in his shirt pocket for a piece of pink paper that he squints at. "Down by the bay. They're on the way over to collect it. But we close up early on a Thursday, and those folks won't be here until this evening. I was wondering if they could collect the car from your yard?"

Zuko can see the tow truck in his rearview mirror, just waiting for permission. "Sure," he says. "I'll open up for you." He pulls away and parks the cruiser past the gates. His stiff limbs are grateful for the stretching they get while guiding the truck into the yard.

Piandao waves off any other help, easing the car onto the ground without trouble. "Appreciate this, Sheriff," he says, hopping one last time into the truck. "Waste of time and money, though, if you ask me. Should just send the thing for scrap. And I'm real sorry about your dog. Must have been quick, at least." He gives Zuko a smart salute, and trundles out of the yard.

Zuko turns back to the car, a sudden cold shiver shimmying up his back. When he was a kid, his grandma would say that meant someone was walking over his grave. She'd cackle when she'd say it, poking a bony finger along his spine. It always gave him goosebumps and left him feeling like something creepy was behind him.

Or, right now, in front of him.

His eyes blur as he stares at the car. He knows with a certainty that he can't explain, he knows, something awful is under that tarp.

He closes his eyes.

He doesn't have to look, doesn't have to see what's hidden beneath. It's cold, real cold, and he could go inside, order someone to fetch him a coffee and a chocolate bar from Toph's not-so-secret stash. Call Katara, maybe. Tell her whatever needs to be said to get the rest of this day back on track. The car doesn't matter. It'll be gone by the next time Zuko comes to work. There's no dispute about fault, his wallet is no lighter, his dog is very much alive.

Must have been quick at least.

It's all good, Zuko thinks. Long Feng is sober, Michi is outside again, Zhao is baking, Elmer is taking an interest in his business, Hama is nicer, Hei Bai isn't plagued by hiccups, Aya is happier in school, and Zuko's in love. The whole town is changing for the better.

It's all good.

Unless it's all an illusion that's covered by a tarp.

Katara didn't want him to look, didn't want him to see. Zuko had wanted to check on the driver, to speak to Toph, but Katara led him away, made sure he didn't see the car. Said she'd take care of everything, and Zuko had let her.

He opens his eyes. His legs are reluctant as he drags them across the yard, his hands shaky as he pulls at the heavy canvas. It lands with a soft thud onto the ground.

And when he sees what Katara was trying to hide from him, the most shocking thing is that Zuko isn't shocked at all.

He must stay still for too long, because his hands, feet, and cheeks are utterly frozen when he hears a hesitant voice calling from the door.

"Sheriff?"

Zuko breaks his trance to look over at Jet stepping carefully onto the gravel. "You okay there?" Jet asks. His shoulders are hunched, hands dug into the pockets of his brand new uniform pants. "Sir?"

"I'm fine."

"It's just," Jet says, looking worried. "You've been standing out here for almost thirty minutes, and you've barely moved."

Thirty minutes. No wonder he has no feeling in his face. Or his hands. The gloves Katara gave him are in the glovebox of the cruiser.

"As the first day rookie, everybody's been having a little fun with me. You know, making me get the coffee, boosting the heating, calling the DA's office to ask for a long wait, and being left on hold for half an hour. Also, being sent outside to ask the boss why he's being weird."

Zuko snorts. The long wait joke is a tradition he might have warned Jet about at dinner.

"You must be freezing," Jet continues, closer now. "You want me to get—" He cuts off when he reaches Zuko. "Dear god," he mutters, and whistles softly. "What happened here?"

"Car accident," Zuko answers redundantly, and both of them are looking at where the bumper might be if it wasn't wiped clean off. There's a sickening dent in the grille, almost a perfect arch. Both headlights are shot and all that remains of the windshield is blunt shards stuck in the rubber seal. The hood's a mangle of twisted green metal, shaped into something decidedly not car-like.

"Fatalities?" Jet asks, backing away.

"None," Zuko says. The saggy airbag covering the steering wheel gives the whole wreck an even more sinister feel.

"Lucky. What did it hit?"

"My dog."

Jet's eyes widen to saucers. "This car hit your dog?" he says. "The dog I saw last night? The one that walked—walked—into your house. Alive and uninjured?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?" Jet asks, and then rolls his eyes at himself. "I mean, of course you're sure. It's just. I mean… I can't believe anything survived that hit."

Zuko's seen too many road fatalities. They didn't always look bad, initially. He was second on scene the evening Mai died. He knew it was her. He knew their car. Toph kept telling him to go home, but it was raining heavily and someone needed to warn oncoming traffic that there was an accident ahead. It was Toph who told him that Mai was dead, killed on impact. Zuko thanked her for telling him, and he went out and shone a torch on the traffic while they cut his wife's body from the wreckage. Then he traveled to the hospital with her in an ambulance that didn't even have its sirens on when it left; that's how dead she was.

The insurance people called a few days later. He'd need a new door and new headlight on the driver's side. They could replace the windshield and fix most of the rest with some body work. Most of the damage was caused by the mechanical jaws used to open the door.

"That is good news," he'd said. "My twenty-four year old wife was killed in that accident, but her children and her mother will be thrilled to hear that the car is doing well."

The woman had blustered and choked through her apologies, and it wasn't her fault that somewhere along the way 'fatality' had been left out of the paperwork. But Zuko hadn't had any comfort to offer her. "Burn it," he'd said.

He had been to other accident scenes, ones where the car wasn't so fortunate, where it was nothing more than twisted metal and shattered glass anointed with gas fumes. He'd seen extremely lucky people walk away from these carnages. But there was always a reason. Maybe they weren't wearing a seat belt but were lucky enough to have a soft landing. Maybe the impact wasn't on their side. Maybe something got between them and the impact.

Not here though, Zuko thinks as his eyes flit back down to the mangled grille. Appa didn't escape the impact; he was the impact. There's a perfect curve in the metal, almost Great Dane shaped.

"That's just freaky," Jet mutters.

"Freaky," Zuko echoes. He gives himself a little shake, looking away from the car. "I have to go somewhere. Tell Toph I'll be back in a while. Cover this up first."

"Where should I say you're going?" Jet asks, already bending for the tarp.

"To the library. Someone has some explaining to do."