Part One: The Players

Prologue- A Deal with the Devil

Three weeks earlier...

Blue eyes bright and his shoulder length hair pulled back from his face, Sokka greeted the new day with a wide smile. He'd rolled out of bed a mere ten minutes earlier but his body was warmed up for the workout ahead. He hadn't had a chance to get a full routine in since he and Toph had returned with Maiko and Lu Zuo, and he was eager for it.

He made his way out onto the walkway in front of his house and with light steps, began to jog. The sun was nowhere near rising and the light from the oil lamps lining the path was fading, but he knew the pathways as well as he knew the back of his hand. After all, he'd helped build them.

As he picked up the pace, the wind skimmed across his cheeks, sharp and biting, but he welcomed it. He loved the cold and he loved it more when it felt like he had it all to himself. Being people of the moon, most of his fellow Water Tribe citizens went to their beds late and stayed in them until mid-morning. He knew that for the next few hours, he really did have the cold all to himself. Uninterrupted time was a precious commodity in such a close knit community and he didn't take it for granted.

Sokka allowed himself a small grin of amusement as he imagined what would happen if he did run into anyone. Even by Water Tribe standards, he was considered a late riser and had been since birth: as a newborn, his mother had once rushed him to the doctor thinking he'd gotten sick but he was just, in fact, sleeping in. At this point in his life, he was famous for it. It made this early morning habit of his easier to explain because he always returned to his little house afterwards to get some extra sleep and usually didn't get up until nearly noon.

Though the ground was covered with a fine layer of snow, his steps barely made a sound. That was due in part to the shoes he'd designed himself; the soles distributed his weight in such a way that when he stepped down, he barely left a footprint. He'd actually been testing out a gelatinous substance for use as a sort of supportive bedding when he realized it could have other applications and he immediately made some padding for his shoes. Several prototypes had blown up and ruined his socks or shoes before he had a working model.

The other reason was more simple: he ran like the wind. He knew that he could run across the entire capital city in less than half an hour at top speed. He did best in the cold, but he also knew that in the desert, he could run a mile in the sand in less than six minutes, given that the terrain was flat. He made it his business to know what his body could do in any situation, anywhere.

If there was something he'd learned in the last two decades of his life, the power to run gave him a chance to beat any kind of bender. He prided himself on his quick feet and didn't slack when it came to maintaining his speed and reflexes. He'd grown taller and broader since he'd first met Aang, and he used his size to his advantage. His body was his most trustworthy weapon and he took care of it, his muscles sleek and powerful.

The training ground behind the citadel was empty this early in the morning. The troops tended to do their sparring around sunset when their powers were at their peak. At this time, they were off running somewhere else. Sokka ran between the pools of water that dotted the field until he reached the open space in the center. Once there, he slowed to a walk until his heartbeat had slowed enough for him to start the rest of his regiment.

Ignoring the cold ice underneath him, he started his sit-ups, counting under his breath. After that, he went through a fast set of push-ups. Still gasping and sweat now pouring freely down his face, he jumped to his feet and pulled out his boomerang in one move. It flew away from him in a graceful curve. While it cut through the cold morning air, he faked a few punches, then rolled on the ground, dodging an invisible enemy. He was on his feet and ready to receive his boomerang when it returned. And then he did it again.

Near the end of his routine, as the sky started to light up with the still-absent sun, Sokka's well-honed senses alerted him to another presence on the field. He caught his boomerang and turned towards the approaching figure, his mind already churning out a believable excuse for why he was outside so early in the day. The disarming grin on his face faded when he recognized who it was.

"Didn't expect to see you up and about this hour in the day," he said carefully. "Early morning walk?"

Zuko pushed his hood back and his amber eyes regarded Sokka with an uncomfortable amount of familiarity. One corner of his mouth curved upwards as he eyed the boomerang in Sokka's hand.

"With all the advances in weaponry that your people have had access to you still insist on using that archaic piece," the Fire Lord observed, not bothering to hide the disdain from his voice.

"Seems to me this 'archaic piece' did a number on your head more than once, so I'd say old or not, you respect something that has sharp edges and can spill some blood," Sokka replied, deciding that Zuko had a gift for saying the wrong thing at the right time—and was probably proud of it. "I'll leave you to your walk. It's time for me to be getting to bed anyway."

"Actually, I was looking for you."

"Oh? Did you want another rematch since Aang isn't here to save your ass?"

Zuko's eyes narrowed. "From what I recall, it was your ass that needed saving. Not mine."

Sokka grinned but it didn't quite reach his sharp blue eyes. "I understand your confusion, seeing as ol' Boomerang here knocked you about during those formative years, but believe me, Zuzu, you were pretty close to having your fiery rage shoved down your throat."

Feet spread in a defensive stance, Sokka was ready for the blow that he was sure would be coming. What he wasn't ready for was Zuko's snort of laughter. Sokka blinked in surprise, but didn't lower his guard.

"I'll save the fight for later when we have an audience," Zuko said. "I want witnesses to see that you're no match for me."

"Fine. Then what did you want me for?"

Zuko crossed his arms. "I want you to find Azula."

Sokka grinned as he swiped at the sweat on his forehead that threatened to drip into his eyes.

"Sure," he said cheerfully. "You got a map?"

"No, but I know you do."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Zuko sat down on the ice, making it clear that he wasn't going anywhere until he'd said his piece. Confused but wary, Sokka stared down at him. They were both silent for a few moments, neither breaking eye contact, before Zuko spoke again.

"I know what you do," he said carefully.

"Who doesn't? I've made a living making sure people know exactly what I do," Sokka responded nonchalantly, but his heart began to race faster than it had during his run.

"I used to wear a mask, Sokka. You still wear yours," Zuko said simply. "I know what you do."

Sokka considered denying it again, but there was no ignoring the confidence in Zuko's voice and face and he was smart enough to know when he was caught. Still, he stayed silent.

"Your sister doesn't know," Zuko went on, one finger idly tapping his knee. "I'm sure your father probably knows, but I know that your business trips sometimes involve more than the delivery of an order. I know that sometimes, the Water Tribe's other interests are protected by other means. You're still a clown and an idiot, but you've become a little bit more than that in the last few years, haven't you, Sokka?"

"Pretty speech, Zuzu. Practice in front of the mirror before you came here?" Sokka said snidely.

"Nice shoes," Zuko said lazily, his gaze sliding over to Sokka's feet. "Make them yourself?"

Keeping his expression studiously blank, Sokka sat down across from him.

"I do what I do for the Water Tribe and no one else," he said, pinning Zuko with a sharp look in his eyes that was far removed from the jovial one he usually wore. "I'm not your lackey, whether or not you're married to my sister. Don't even try to corner me with information because I have plenty that I could use against you."

Showing restraint that surprised Sokka, Zuko didn't take the bait.

"Fair enough," he said coolly. "Then let me appeal to your…intellect."

His curiosity outweighing his wariness, Sokka ignored the other man's slightly mocking tone and nodded.

"You'll agree that having Azula free in this world guarantees trouble of a scale that none of the nations are equipped to handle," Zuko began. "Azula is strategic genius and even though she uses her talents against me, I can respect them. What happened on my lands was only the beginning and besides Jet, who knows who else she has working for her, lying in wait for the right time. She needs to be stopped quickly."

"You have people doing that," Sokka pointed out.

"My uncle has his best men searching for her. They will bring her back when they find her. The Fire Nation is no longer being led by a warmonger bent on conquering the rest of the world and the Princess Azula will face justice to atone for her crimes against her people," Zuko said in a flat voice that gave Sokka the impression he was reciting rather than conveying.

"What's wrong with that?" he asked.

"I know Azula," Zuko answered, growing more heated. "If she ever returns to the Fire Nation, it won't be as a prisoner—it'll be in front of an army. I don't want her to come back on any terms."

The grip Sokka had on his boomerang tightened. Zuko waited for him to respond, not willing to say more than that but his expression dared Sokka to question him. Anger was a tight knot in Sokka's chest and he glared at the other man.

"Don't want to get your lily-white hands dirty, Fire Lord?" he provoked. "So you turn to the already dirty Water Tribe peasant to do your work for you."

Zuko was on him in the blink of an eye. Before Sokka could raise his arm, Zuko had a forearm pressed against his throat and a knee where no knee should ever be. It was enough to keep Sokka from squirming. He stared up at Zuko's cold gaze.

"I guess you're still more clown and idiot than anything else," the Fire Lord snarled. "When Azula comes knocking at your door, don't bother yelling for help. Just run and hide like you're so good at doing."

He was up on his feet in the next second, his lip curled with contempt. Sokka rolled away from him, eyes narrowed.

"Why me?" he demanded.

"Because I'm married to your sister."

"So, what?"

"Do you really want to ask that question?"

"And here I was thinking you cared about her," Sokka said, truly angry for the first time since their conversation started. "You heartless bastard. I should have known."

"What's between me and her is between me and her, but I would never use her as a pawn," Zuko retorted, matching his rage with Sokka's. "Frankly, Sokka, I'm getting sick of having to defend my intentions. The fact that I'm married to her should mean more to you than my being Fire Lord. Whether we like it or not, we're family now. I know what that means to your people and even though we're far from friends, we're family. You said so yourself and that's why you're the only one I can trust to do this.

"I didn't just come here to get my children," he went on. "I came to talk to you. Don't forget I know what you've done. You understand that some things need to be done quietly. You're the best at what you do and this has to end one way or another. I'd rather it end my way. That's all I'm going to say about this. Either you take an extended holiday or you don't. It's in your hands."

Zuko whirled on his heel and walked off, not bothering to wait for Sokka's response. Sokka could only stare at Zuko's retreating back as he considered what had just been proposed to him. Zuko was right about Azula's potential to destroy everything they had worked for and was even more right about their being family. He would not have played that card unless he was serious about this and he would not have asked Sokka for help if he had any other options.

Azula did present a danger for all of them and to have a chance to finally put a stop to her appealed to Sokka more than anything else. He also had to be honest with himself—he would enjoy it. The princess had caused them too much pain, now and during the war. It was time for her to pay the piper and he knew he was the best man for the job.

"I'm not your lackey," Sokka said again, his voice carrying in the silence.

"No," Zuko said, stopping and turning slightly. "I've got a list of things you are and 'lackey' isn't on it."

"Good. I'll send you a postcard."

Zuko began to walk away again, but his last words made its way back to Sokka's ears.

"Don't bother."

Sokka smirked. He put his boomerang back in its sheath and as the sun began to rise, ran back home. He would have to skip his morning nap. There was planning to do.