“So how does it feel?”
Zuko glanced over at Mai in puzzlement.
“What do you mean?”
She gave a wry smile. “You know. Being the one who killed the Avatar.”
Zuko turned his eyes forward again, focusing his gaze on the flame dancing in his hand. She hadn’t really brought the issue up before, but….
“Well, you know,” he said, forcing his voice to be lighthearted, “It’s nothing, really.”
“Almost like you didn’t do it at all, right?” she chuckled.
Zuko felt his smile almost vanish, felt the recent anxiety gnaw at him again. He forced it hurriedly to the back of his mind—nothing mattered at the moment, not the Avatar, not Azula, not his Uncle….
The flame twitched in his hand, almost going out.
“Hey,” Mai said, “Don’t kill the light, you might trip. The land is somewhat treacherous around here. We wouldn’t want the famed hero of the Fire Nation to be killed by a pebble.”
“Me? I’m fine.” He dimmed the light a bit so that she couldn’t see the flush on his face. “I’m more worried about you.”
Mai gave a quick laugh, and Zuko felt his flush increase a bit more.
“I think I know my way around here; I’ve walked it enough. Hasn’t changed that much.”
“Is this place much farther?” Zuko asked, though he felt a twinge of curiosity that wasn’t related to distance. “My feet are getting kind of sore.”
“You’ve been home for less than a week and you’re already tired of this land?” Mai teased. “Actually, it’s just up and to the left a bit—we’ve made good time.”
The sky ahead was slowly graying as they rounded a large outcropping of rocks; Mai gestured for Zuko to turn here and pointed.
“There it is.”
Zuko brightened the flame in his hand to better see the area; he furrowed his brow. There was a large open space here, and very flat, but scrub and vegetation covered everything. He couldn’t see everything clearly, but it looked like there was even some greasefire bramble around.
“Well, I guess the area has changed somewhat,” Mai observed. “The plants weren’t here last time….over a year.”
“I think I can change it again,” Zuko said, shifting his stance. The flame in his hand streaked into a ribbon as he brought his arm back, and then thrust forward. Fire consumed the plants immediately, the ashes flaring briefly for an instant before being swept away by the wind of the sea. He controlled the fire as best he could, keeping it from touching the rocks or spreading too far; he twisted his wrist, and the flames vanished. He turned to Mai.
“Better?”
She arched one eyebrow. “The landscape’s not the only thing that has changed. Is this the same Zuko who set fire to my clothes when he tried to heat tea?”
Zuko shut his eye bracingly; she had to bring that one up.
“I was a little overanxious there. And I was eight.”
“Well, now that you’re seventeen, I think you can give me a hand with the blanket,” she said, removing it from the basket she was holding.
Zuko rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t she keep a conversation going in the same direction for ? He moved to help her; within a few minutes, the blanket was spread out and they were removing food from the basket. The sun had not risen yet, but the sky was bright enough to see easily as they helped themselves to portions of rice and meat.
“Tea?” Zuko asked with a sly smile, holding up a pot.
Mai edged away slightly. “I think I’ll pass.”
Zuko shook his head and put it away. “Tea’s not really my thing, anyway.”
He felt the guilty stab again, and he was incredibly grateful for how quickly Mai spoke.
“Is the food seasoned enough for you?”
Zuko took a bite, chewing it thoughtfully before nodding his approval. “It’s good.”
The teapot had already planted the thought in his mind, though, and now he seriously considered it—talking to her about Uncle….or the Avatar; and his belief that he might still be alive. But could she be trusted with this? Did he want her to know—?
“It’s starting.”
Zuko left his thoughts and looked at her; she was looking out over the edge of the cliff, out to sea. He followed her gaze to the horizon; a tiny orange dot had appeared, quickly spreading into a line as the sun began to cleave the horizon.
“I never took you as the type to enjoy sunrises,” Zuko said pointedly. “They just never seemed your style.”
She was silent for almost a whole minute before she gave a deliberate reply.
“I came up here as often as I could for months. But it wasn’t the sunrise I was looking for.”
Zuko thought for a moment, and realization dawned suddenly. He tore his gaze from the rising sun and looked swiftly over at Mai; he felt a jolt of surprise and full comprehension as he saw that she wasn’t looking at the sun, either, but back at him. Almost as soon as he had looked at her, though, she snapped her head back to the horizon; Zuko saw her eyes water as the orange sunlight hit them with full force.
Or had they already been watering?
“I never watched for sunrises,” Zuko mused, edging over and looking back out at the rising sun. “Not really. Three years at sea, and I never watched for them. Well…sometimes. But I was never actually looking at the sun, either.”
“It’s different when you’re not looking for something else, isn’t it?” Mai asked softly. “It’s just light—you’re not expecting anything but the sun.”
They watched it peel itself from the ocean in silence; Zuko thought back to what he had been looking for. The Avatar, mainly. Whatever sign there might be of his presence. Sometimes, though, even a ship from home…one that would hold a message saying that his father had changed his mind, though he had not captured the Avatar….
Zuko moved closer to Mai. This was not the time to think about the Avatar, or talk about him.
“It’s different when you’re with someone, too,” he said. “Isn’t it?”
Mai turned to him and smiled, the sunlight reflected dazzlingly by her black hair.
“Completely.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder, and they watched in silence again; Zuko looked down at her. She was smiling softly, watching the sea, silent, happy…content. Was this really Mai?
“I’m impressed,” Zuko said aloud.
“What?” Mai asked, still resting her head.
“It’s been well over an hour since we left, and you haven’t complained once.”
She laughed softly, not taking her gaze from the sky.
“Orange is such an awful color.”
Zuko chuckled at the obligatory remark ; he couldn’t help it.
“You’re so beautiful when you hate the world,” he whispered, looking at her.
She looked back up at him. “I don’t hate you,” she said pointedly.
Zuko felt a strange surge of fire inside him, and though he felt completely at peace, a strange boldness filled him.
“I don’t hate you, too….”
He dipped his head toward hers, watching her mirror the movement….he shut his eyes, and felt his mouth and hers lock….and suddenly, nothing mattered. He thought of nothing else none of his troubles, none of—
“Ahem.”
The reassuring warmness in Zuko’s chest turned to a blaze of rage. He broke the kiss and glared up at his sister. How dare she—?
“Zuko, could I have a word with you?”
Right. Like she just wanted a word with him. She’d hiked all the way out here—or followed them?—just to have a word with him. Of course.
“Can’t you see we’re busy?” He put as much venom into his voice as possible, then turned back to Mai, trying to recapture the moment, force Azula out of his mind….
“Oh, Mai,” Azula said in an obviously-supposed-to-be-friendly voice, “Ty Lee needs your help untangling her braid.”
Zuko glared at Azula. Of course she did. He felt Mai tense slightly behind him, but then she relaxed and pushed herself gently off of his chest.
“Sounds pretty serious,” she said, standing up without even bothering to find an excuse. Zuko watched her go with disappointment; why was it that his sister always got what she wanted?
As Azula turned her head to watch Mai pass, Zuko shot his sister a deep glare. He seriously hoped that whatever Azula had ended their morning for was something important.
“So,” she said, turning back to him, “I hear you’ve been to visit your Uncle Fatso in the prison tower.”
It had to be something important.
The entire morning was banished from Zuko’s mind; he stood up, clenching his hands into fists as rage and betrayal surged through him.
“That guard told you!”
The smug grin on his sister’s face immediately told him that he had made a huge mistake.
“No. You did. Just now.”
Silently cursing himself with every word for “idiot” he had imagined coming from his uncle’s mouth, Zuko sank back to the ground.
“Okay. You’ve caught me. What is it that you want, Azula?”
His mind was working with a fury directed at both himself and Azula, but he forced himself to hear what she was saying to him.
“Actually…nothing.”
Right.
“Believe it or not, I’m looking out for you.”
Let’s go with not.
“If people find out you’ve been to see Uncle, they’ll think you’re plotting with him.”
Well, that was true enough.
“Just be careful, Dum-Dum,” she finished warningly.
Zuko frowned and looked at her for a moment, then looked back down. Well, this was just the perfect end to the morning, wasn’t it? First the Avatar’s survival, and now his involvement with Uncle. Was there any piece of information left that she couldn’t use to threaten him with?
Azula turned and walked away; Zuko hoped that Mai wouldn’t come back now, though Azula would probably realize that and catch up with Mai for that very reason. Zuko sighed. The illusion he had created, the image that he was safe and happy, it was gone now. There was no point in making Mai worry about him, no reason why they should both be conflicted; this was his decision, his burden. He looked at the sunrise, and thought about what it must have been like for her, coming here day after day, hoping. Holding on to the belief that one day he would return.
If she could hold that burden alone, he could hold his.
He looked back down at the basket and began packing it up; he noticed that the komodo chicken was mostly untouched. He frowned; it wasn’t Uncle’s favorite, but….Uncle had never hesitated to share Zuko’s burden. He had always been there, had always offered Zuko help. Perhaps he could give him advice again.
He tucked the chicken into the basket, planning; he’d have to be extra-careful tonight after Azula’s warning, but he had to do it. He had to do it.
He couldn’t do it alone.