"Dad," Sokka spoke up, having fallen silent in sharpening his machete. Satisfied that it was sharp enough, he sheathed it and looked up to his father, who had been helping the other men load the mines onto the boats. The image of his father was moth reassuring and disconcerting; he met it with mixed emotion. Of course he was happy to see him - it had been three years since they'd been together - but he still had things on his mind.

Sokka wondered if maybe he should've let Katara come to see their father, but then again, they had no way to babysit her here. It sounded cruel, but they didn't let their women fight the war for a reason. Sokka would've hated to say he was of more use to them than she would be, but he'd have been correct to do so. And of course, there was that final complication.

He'd guessed this might happen - the very real possibility of Katara's letter never have made it to their father - but he hadn't said as much to Katara for the fact that, well … they didn't really talk all that much nowadays. Besides, she'd probably thought of it already, and might even have been relieved at the idea. Pushing the truth away, Sokka guessed, was probably a hard thing for his sister to keep doing; and it would probably backfire soon.

Except that now he had to be the one to tell their father his little girl was pregnant. He had to tell Hakoda he'd failed to protect his sister. He'd considered the idea that the letter had never arrived, but he hadn't considered that now he had to explain in its place. Or did he? Maybe … maybe if he just left that little detail out … No! What was he even thinking? Katara had meant to tell her father months ago, about the baby, and who knew when he would next have contact with his father?

No, Sokka would have to tell the truth - what little of it he knew.

"Ready to go knock some Fire Nation heads?" the Southern Tribe's chief approached his son, a small smile apparent on his face.

Of course, Sokka was only guessing still that the letter hadn't gotten here; he was probably right to assume that if the letter had gotten to his father, their conversation already would've turned to Katara, and Hakoda wouldn't meet him with a smile, rather than the well-deserved smack across the head that Sokka had half-expected upon arriving.

"Sokka?" Hakoda cleared his throat to gain Sokka's attention.

"Huh?" Sokka looked up again, and shook his head to clear it. "Sorry - distracted," he smiled awkwardly.

Hakoda exhaled through his nose and clapped his son on the shoulder. "Something on your mind, son?" he asked, tilting his head and smiling in a naïve, unknowing way that made Sokka feel like the worst son in the history of the world. How was he supposed to answer that question? His shoulder drooped and he hung his head.

"No," he began, then shook his head and met his father's stare with a hard one of his own. Hakoda arched a brow. "Actually, yes."

Hakoda nodded, looked away, then gestured toward the dying campfire. "Take a seat," he smiled thoughtfully, and approached the fire. Hakoda lowered himself to a log, grabbed a stick and stoked the embers, bringing them back to life. Sokka sat down adjacent to him and the two locked matching blue gazes. "What's up?" he asked casually, his smile daring not to falter. If the mood fell now, this happy reunion might be tarnished by the despair and sadness brought by war.

Sokka drew a heavy breath and twiddled his fingers nervously. "It's about Katara," he fixed his gaze on the embers before him, as they blinked to life, fire rising up and licking at the ash-covered, blackened wood fed to it. He fell into a pensive silence, gathering his thoughts and putting them into words. He could tell his wordlessness was bothering his father, but he couldn't risk wording it wrong. He hoped he didn't mess up - anymore than he already had.

Hakoda's expression softened in concern. "Is she alright?" he blinked, speaking earnestly. His eyes searched Sokka's, trying to decipher what it was the boy was edging toward, dancing around. Obviously something was wrong, and if he could just spit it out, he wouldn't have to sit around worrying like this. His chest had already tightened at the prospect of his daughter being sick or injured.

Sokka tilted his head thoughtfully, and his voice came out in a distinctly 'Err, uh, well, about that' kind of manner. "Not … not exactly," he looked away, avoiding his father's piercing gaze. How the heck was he supposed to put it? 'Hey dad, by the way, Katara's pregnant so you're going to be a grandpa! Isn't that great?' Sokka screwed up his face, raised a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could almost feel his father's anxiety seeping into him.

At his words his father's brows shot up. "Well, what's wrong? Is Katara sick?" worry entered the older man's voice, and Sokka almost wanted to wince. Impatience had also entered the older man's voice, and Sokka didn't want to irritate him the first time they'd seen one another in three years.

"No," Sokka shook his head, and he felt his shoulders tense up. "She's …" Sokka paused and looked up and met his father's solid stare again. The teenager blinked a few times and sighed. "She sent a letter, she meant to explain it herself, but I guess you never got it," he babbled aloud, lifting the hand on his face to the back of his neck and rubbing nervously. Hakoda opened his mouth and gave a groan, as if he was next going to just growl out 'get on with it', so Sokka decided to jump to it.

Albeit rather unintelligently.

"Katara's pregnant," Sokka announced quietly, effectively cutting off whatever his father's next words might have been.

Sokka found himself rather impressed with how well he'd managed that; after all that dancing around the subject and awkward diversion, he'd managed to get the words out quietly, and keep them from anyone nearby. And now, Sokka mused glumly, came the interesting part. Hakoda stared right into his son's face with confusion washing over him. The lanky boy had never seen his father so … discomfited. Then again, the last time the two had held palaver, he'd been thirteen, still at an age where in his minds eye, his father knew everything and anything there was to be known. This strange look of confusion threw Sokka's own composure.

Hakoda's initial shock broke to momentary horror, before a sickening, humored smirk took his face. The older man doubled over … and laughed. He even reached over and clapped his son on the shoulder. He wheezed out a pure laughter that made Sokka want to scream - how he'd missed hearing his father laugh like that. After his mother's death, there had been few instances where it had occurred. "You …" Hakoda laughed out, wiping a tear from his eye, "… have an interesting sense of humor, Sokka," he bumped his chest, cleared his throat and suppressed the laughter until it was nothing. Hakoda looked up, fully expecting a smug smile on his son's face. Instead, he met a grave frown.

And then the two exchanged a stone cold stare that said all that needed to be said.

The chief of the Southern Tribe clapped a hand to his forehead, eyes going wide again and his mouth falling open. Sokka opened his mouth to try to explain as best he could, but Hakoda was already getting to his feet, bringing both hands up to the sides of his head and beginning to pace. "What?" he exclaimed loudly, and his feet began to push him in pacing ovals in the sand. The men loading the boats paused and turned in their direction, confused expressions all pointed at them.

Sokka swallowed hard, his brows tilting in defeat as he stood up. "I'm sorry, dad, I-," he was cut off when Hakoda turned and stared at him with terrified blue eyes. His words hitched in his throat.

Hakoda sputtered for a while and then shook his head stiffly. "Wh-," he paused, swallowed, and pushed his hair back gracelessly. "When? How? What the …" Hakoda's words came out in broken syllables and severed exclamations, and Sokka could tell that his father was struggling not to return to the disconcerting pacing. By now, both of the older man's hands were glued to his head, and he was staring at his son with imploring eyes, his mouth open to say something, but words beyond his comprehension in the moment.

Sokka decided it was best to explain a little more, as hard as it was with the fact that he didn't actually know all the details. "She's six months along now," he explained in a dry and powdery voice, with blue eyes on blue, staring, searching. "She tried to send you a letter, but it never got here. I'm sorry," he felt a lump forming in his throat, but swallowed against it. "I know I was … I was supposed to protect her, but … but I had no idea … I don't know when …"

Hakoda grabbed Sokka's shoulder in a rough way, and gazed at him with hard eyes. Sokka expected that smack over the head, but instead, Hakoda tugged him in for a hug. The teenager's eyes went wide with confusion and anxiety; why? Why on earth would his father hug him after he had failed so monumentally to protect his baby sister? He deserved a punch in the mouth, and a black eye to boot, but here his father was … hugging him. It made no sense, but Sokka had come to learn that very little made sense these days.

"I'm sorry, dad," Sokka repeated, as if to remind his father that it was his fault, and he opened his mouth to continue, but his father spoke.

Hakoda's voice came shuddery and unsure, but Sokka couldn't hold that against him. "No. Don't be," he squeezed his son and Sokka swallowed against the lump growing uncontrollably in his throat, "It's not your fault," he continued, and at that point, Sokka's calm façade cracked a little. "I know for fact that you did everything you could to look after and protect and teach Katara while I was away … and … what's important now …" Hakoda drew a shuddering breath and pulled away from Sokka, holding him at arm's length by the shoulders and swallowing hard, words tumbling over a teary knot in his throat, "Is … looking after her now, right?"

Sokka blinked for a moment and then nodded stiffly. "Yeah," he breathed. He raised a hand and awkwardly patted his father on the elbow, rather embarrassed for that scene. He looked out to the boats to see the other men moving along, trying their best to ignore whatever was going on between father and son. His father's grip loosened and fell away from him.

Hakoda lifted a hand and rubbed at his face, heaving a sigh. "So … I can safely assume you don't know everything?" he asked awkwardly.

Sokka nodded. "Katara won't talk. I mean, when she told us, she said it was uh … consensual," his voice fell quiet and one arm crossed his middle to catch the other elbow. He heard Hakoda choking, but he didn't (want to) know if it was because of what he had just explained; that Katara had given herself to someone at only fourteen, with no knowledge of the consequences or such. Sokka continued. "And she tried to lie about … who it was that … b-but anyway, that came to light and now, well, we don't really know who the father is."

Hakoda's brow arched and he looked away. "But you're her brother. You must have an idea about … who it might be," he trailed off and sighed at the awkward way his words were coming out. He was the chief of their tribe, for Tui's sake - he'd led men through the battlefield on many an occasion, without a trace of fear. He was the fearless Water Tribe chief of the Southern wastelands, and yet, here he was murmuring like a guilty child.

Sokka's expression hardened. "I have a guess, but you won't like it. I don't even like it."

"Let's hear it," Hakoda breathed out, eyes pointed downward.

"Prince Zuko," Sokka blurted tactlessly, and when his father looked up, he reinforced it with a hard frown.

Hakoda's eyes bulged in confusion. "The banished Fire Nation prince?" his words came out in a seething whisper, and he leant forward almost conspiratorially. "Firelord Ozai's son?" he shook his head, stretched his tense back and then blinked at Sokka a few times. "How? What the heck would make you think that?"

A look of suspicious pensiveness washed over the teenager's face. "I don't know for sure," he began, looking away. "But … it would make sense. The timing, the reason she would lie … and I'm her brother, and as such I noticed those little looks the guy kept giving her," Sokka made a face and stuck his tongue out. "And on top of that, there's the pains she's always trying to hide. I know what they mean."

Hakoda blinked at Sokka, understanding what he meant. "I hope you're wrong," he made a face.

Sokka sighed. "Me too," he agreed, and the two stood, ready to head in silence toward the boats to leave for battle. That was when the two heard the groan of a flying bison and turned toward it.

"There you are, Azula!" Ty Lee yelped, cart wheeling single-handedly toward the Fire Nation princess, who had just finished directing the Dai Li agents toward the crystal catacombs she'd chosen as a replacement holding cell for the waterbender and her traitorous brother. Four Dai Li agents, all in their long robes that swept the floor as they moved, flanked the princess as she walked toward the acrobat. "I found something I think you should see," Ty Lee righted herself to an upright position and waved a scrolled letter in her hands.

Azula waved the agents away, and they walked around Ty Lee, back toward the throne room. She wanted to see what it was Ty Lee had found in Long Feng's office. The Dai Li's former leader had intercepted letters of people all across the city, and beyond, and they had all just been sitting in certain safes, being kept for the right moments. Ty Lee had spent much of the day searching for letters to and from the Avatar's friends.

Ty Lee extended a scroll to Azula. "I found this in Long Feng's private safe," she explained earnestly, "That water tribe girl wrote it."

Azula raised a brow, took the scroll and began to unravel it disinterestedly. Her eyes ran over the words written in sloppy handwriting - she could tell the water tribe girl wasn't skilled with an ink brush - in studious sweeps, picking them up quickly. It was simply dull and predictable until her eyes fell upon a familiar name, and the corners of her mouth quirked up. Azula blinked at the paper, disbelieving of her luck, and then continued to read.

The water tribe girl's words became rather colorful - entertaining, even.

'… Vile, disgusting excuse for a human being!'

Azula reminded herself to use these insults on her brother later on - some of them were quite good. With the way the letter went on, Azula had half expected the waterbender to write in detail about copulations with Prince Zuko; of course, Azula would've skipped over this part. She was unscrupulous, but not perverted. But, the letter skipped over it for her, and ended with a bunch of humble apologies and begs of forgiveness and pleas, and Azula was eventually bored by it, so she rolled the scroll up again.

"Ty Lee," Azula took a step past the acrobat, who immediately began to follow.

"Yes, Azula?"

Azula tossed the rolled up letter back to Ty Lee as they walked. The brown-eyed girl caught it swiftly. Azula didn't even glance over her shoulder, holding her hands stately behind her back. "I'd like you to write a report on our findings and have it sent home."

A/N: This is basically a peep into Sokka's perspective of the whole thing. I expected things to fall away from canon in the story, but not away from logic, and I accept that I've screwed up big time in some points. So, just to acknowledge some amazingly helpful critiques, I'd like to thank Kimberly T. and SG-Phantom.

I won't go back and fix the swearing in Chapter 12, but I can assure you I'm going to cut back on the swearing from now on. I've realized I'm falling out of character, and I'll remedy it as I can.

And yeah, it was a total cop-out, that thing I posted for Chapter 13 the other night. It was badly written, lazy and left out major elements of the basic plot, and I fixed it - hopefully :P

I seriously hope this is better than that piece of crap I had up before. My brain is melting, for some reason. I must have writer's block. Dammit. Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I would just like to confirm that I'm not copping out of the big fight scene coming up. I've written fight scenes before, and I can write one again.

I just need to, ah, keep reminding myself of that.

Don't forget to drop a review!