Part 3

Raizu led them further from the center of the village, angling towards the narrow stretch of land sandwiched between the outer wall and the iron ridge that bordered the bay. They wound through alleys that seemed increasingly aged and unkempt, fading gradually from the smooth white stone to water-stained wood and disrepair.

Soon they had reached an area that was essentially slums. Trash was piled up in corners. There were visible pests and a strong stink of fish. In fact, much of it seemed to be fishing quarters; nets hung across everything, many with half-mended holes and evidence of neglect.

Zuko and Sokka sunk instinctively closer to one another. As they passed a muttering, emaciated man lying on a mat, knees and elbows covered with sores, a look passed between them. Perhaps they were both thinking of Ba Sing Se. Even when many prospered, there was always hidden poverty. Every place had their dark spots.

"Skulk along at that pace and we'll be out here long past sundown," the gravely voice of Raizu immediately recalled their attention. "We're almost there."

It wasn't far. Their host seemed to own a low shack near the water level, directly under the shadow of the wall. It seemed more sturdily built than its neighbors, a little larger and more carefully put together. The heavy-set man talked steadily as he unlocked the door. "I have a boat off the dock just a short distance from here. I do business all down this chain of islands – all the way to the capital itself. I'm a very successful man."

There was a shed butting up to the building's side, and Zuko looked at it critically, a strange feeling of dread creeping inexplicably up the ridge of his spine. The doors had a padlock. "What's in there?" he dared to ask.

A look cast over one hulking shoulder. "Oh, that. Tools of the trade. Devices of hospitality. And none of your business at the moment, your highness."

The door came open and they were gestured inside. It felt like walking voluntarily into prison; Zuko almost cast away all reason and darted down the grey roads, dragging Sokka behind him. But it was fully night now; black without even stars as the day's heat rose and hazed the sky. What moon could be seen was red, and no good light.

There was little inside the house, if it could be called that. A table, mismatching chairs. A fat iron stove and a sagging futon shoved in a corner. A flight of stairs. Raizu went to one of the chairs and scrapped it out. "C'mere, boy," he gestured to Sokka. "You look about ready to fall off your feet."

The fire-bender was startled by the evaluation, and looked to Sokka for signs of weariness. It was true; he seemed to be sagging. The swollen area around his eye seemed especially inflamed and painful. Still, he hesitated to accept the offered seat.

"Go on," Zuko gave him a gentle push. If they were here, he might as well rest.

"You called your friend Zukka," Raizu spoke once Sokka had sunk onto the wobbly chair. He fetched a glass of water and pressed it into the young man's hand. "But your name I don't know. Or shall I continue to call you whoreson?"

"I'm not your son," Sokka said firmly. Obviously, like Zuko, the ruse Raizu had chosen to save them was staying with him like a bad taste in his mouth. But nonetheless… "I'm Sozzu," he answered, and Zuko caught the tiny smile Sokka privately offered him. Silent double letters. It was strange how the memory made the situation seem less grave.

"Odd names," Raizu muttered, puttering around the small space. Seeing that Sokka had laid aside his empty cup, he gestured towards the slanting stairs. "You'll stay till morning. There's a loft."

Eager to be out of this man's presence, Zuko helped his companion regain his feet. And, because it seemed wrong not to, he forced himself to say, "Thank you."

Raizu Li smiled at him. Half his teeth were black. "Anything for your highness."

The upstairs room was even smaller than the lower story had been, and oppressive as only a windowless space could be. It was almost completely dark, and even when Zuko summoned a puff of flame, it remained depressingly bleak. The floors were bare, but they curled up with their backs to the wall anyway, weary from the day's stressful happenings.

Sokka seemed to be having an especially hard time keeping his eyes open. "Don't like him," he murmured. His head sunk against his chest.

Zuko nudged him. "You alright?"

"Tired," the tribesman responded. He sounded a little hoarse. How hard had that soldier gripped his throat?

Feeling a wave of concern, Zuko inched closer, putting his shoulder against Sokka's so that he had something to lean against other than the hard, comfortless wall. "I'll stay awake if you want to sleep," he offered, even though his own body ached for rest. "Sleep."

Sokka nodded. "For a few hours. Then you'll wake me. You…"

He was nodding off even as he spoke. Zuko answered, "I will. And in the morning we'll get out of here." He went so far as to attempt a joke. "I think we've gotten in enough of a mess for one trip. Imagine what your sister will do to me when she sees your face."

A sleepy chuckle. "Kill you," the Water tribesman muttered. Then, cheekily, "But don't worry…I'll protect you."

It occurred to Zuko that he had dozed off when he awoke to narrow bars of light across his eyes and found that he could barely open them for the gummy buildup. Scrubbing his face, he found himself into the same tiny room from the night before, only less dim, as the poorly fitted planks let in the sun.

"Sokka," he reached automatically to shake the other boy awake, but his hand only met empty floorboards. That was enough to knock every ounce of sleep from his body. Panicked, his eyes wrenched around the room. "Sokka!"

No answer. Because no one else was there.

Zuko leapt to his feet. Sokka wouldn't have left him here alone. He wouldn't have ventured out into this place by himself. Not willingly. But how could any amount of struggle have failed to wake him?

He took the stairs at such a pace that he nearly tripped down them. No one in the lower rooms, no one outside in the yard. It was still cool dawn, lingering with the mist of a place near the ocean. He heard the cries of gulls, but few other noises.

Casting his gaze around, it was only by chance that he noticed the padlock missing from the shed. He pressed his lips together. There?

"Sokka?" he called as he pressed open the door. There wasn't much light, and he squinted, debating on calling up his own fire. However, there was straw under his feet, and bone-dry walls all around. If Sokka was in here, he didn't want to risk a stray draft setting this place alight. He called out again, "Sokka."

A faint rattling came to his ear from the furthest reaches of the enclosure, far beyond the reach of the faint light provided by the open door. Hesitantly, Zuko took a step into the abyss, eyes overlarge as though it might compensate for what he could not see. Another step.

He sensed the danger before he saw it, and wrenched his body backward as though to throw himself to the floor and out of the way. Unfortunately, the trap had been laid with just this in mind, and his attempt to fling himself to safety only resulted in the heavy chain twisting more hopelessly around his limbs.

Zuko felt himself loose contact with the ground, weightless. He twisted and wrenched, he yelled. Still the net held him fast, wrapping around his body as though it were alive, like an icy cold serpent. He could barely move his arms.

The sound of clapping came out of the back, followed by a hulking body. Raizu applauded him, staring up at the hopeless tangle. "A bit stupid, that's what I called you. And rightly so. That shouldn't have been so easy, boy."

Zuko snarled, dragging open his palms. He wanted so badly to grizzle this man into a smear of cinder, but his hands were pressed upon him awkwardly, held inward towards his own body. "Let me down."

"I don't think so, no," said his former rescuer, current captor. "You look a little piqued."

"What have you done with Sokka…Sozzu." The fire-bender bristled with a frustrated, infuriated terror. "Where is he?"

As though only too happy to comply, Raizu reached into the shadow and dragged out a boneless body by the foot. Reaching down, he tossed the younger man over one shoulder, where he dangled.

"I gave him something to help him sleep last night," the man explained. "But don't worry; he'll be fine before long. Just as soon as I get him on my ship."

"Why are you doing this? What do you want?" Zuko demanded. The chain web swung slightly when he moved, making him feel nauseated. Though maybe that was the desperation. "Where are you taking us?"

"Him," Raizu corrected. "You wouldn't sell well, unfortunately. Yer too old, and too much trouble. I'll have to get rid of you, but I haven't got time to take care of that without making a mess."

Zuko's stomach lurched as he absorbed all those words implied, and he swallowed hard. "We're nearly the same age."

The man shook his head. "Even if he's just a colonial like he says he is, then I can find a place for him with those eyes. My trade likes exotic. But I think I've stumbled upon even a better opportunity. Do you know what reward Lord Ozai would give for a Water tribe brat?"

Absolute disaster. It broke over Zuko like a tidal wave, or a hammer. "He isn't Water tribe." There was nothing to do but protest, but already he knew that it didn't matter. Raizu didn't care who or what Sokka truly was. Even without fully realizing what he had, he had enough. They both knew that.

"You just hang there and I'll see you in a week or so. If you haven't died by then, we may have to chat. You can scream. Maybe someone will come." The man shrugged. Then he pivoted, heading towards the door.

Zuko wanted to rage after him, but anguish clamped shut his mouth and dried up his words. Black links of metal pressed into him. Then Raizu was alone.

Time passed slow. Moments stretched interminably, and Zuko had already bloodied himself on the rusty coils in a vain attempt to fight free. Folly. Might was no ally here.

And meanwhile Sokka was being placed in a boat that would take him the last place on earth he needed to go, into the mouth of abject suffering. Torture was only the least descriptive expression of his father's capacity to hurt.

Zuko found himself thinking about Katara's condemning words in the Temple before they'd left. Someone who couldn't be trusted to take care of others, that's what she'd said of him. And she'd been right. Right.

Sokka. What would Sokka do. He found himself thinking about it as he sagged, his physical strength exhausted. Not thrash around brainlessly until he couldn't feel his own body, that was for certain. He'd think of something, something brilliant and crazy. What would –

It occurred to Zuko out of nowhere, out of nothing, or so it seemed. Was this how the Sokka did it? Stunning innovation at the very moment of need?

There was risk. He could ignite the structure around him and burn to death in a conflagration of his own making. But there was nothing else, no other way. He set his mouth determinedly, and concentrated on squirming his feet around so that they were pressed together against his metal prison.

Sokka was just beginning to regain consciousness when Raizu cast him bodily into the hull of his ship. It was a small, steam-powered belcher – more tub than boat, but swift for its size and able to move against the current. Head throbbing, the Southerner stirred restlessly, fighting to understand what was going on.

It was the smell of the sea and the gentle rocking of the craft that finally awakened him. Whatever else he knew, it was that he was not supposed to be on the ocean.

"Wha–" he attempted to talk around the roughness of his throat, which felt sore and thick. He coughed weakly. "Where's Zuk..ka?" he asked.

"Yer friend is back at my home, undoubtedly occupied with contemplating what remains of his life. A very bleak and regretful refection, I'm sure."

"You hurt him?" Sokka felt as though he been clouted. A spike of pain drove through the consistent pounding, and he curled, fighting not to vomit. "You didn't…you didn't kill him?"

He must have looked pathetic enough that even a man like Raizu took pity. "He's not dead. Not even a scratch. But he won't be coming after you."

For the first time, Sokka was able to think clearly enough to realize what seemed to be happening. In a boat, restrained, alone. "You're taking me somewhere. To someone," he puzzled out. A moment's silence. Then, "Selling me. To who, you fat fart? You'll have to find another garrison. Even Fire Nation soldiers would think it pretty low to turn in your own son for reward."

"Spirited," Raizu said. "Good for you. Perhaps you'll live longer than your friend, though I doubt it. I don't know whether you're really Water Tribe or not; I've only see a few in my travels. But if I can't tell, then why should Lord Ozai? And even if he doesn't want you, there are plenty of others in the capital who might be interested…though for different reasons."

Contemptuously, Sokka glowered, refusing to be intimidated. "There's a special kind of suffering waiting for people like you. And I don't even believe in karma."

The fire-nation trader laughed. "I like you, boy. It's really a shame that things are this way. But business is business. An rescue for a trade for a shaft of gold."

The engine shuddered to life then, like a gurgle from a strangled throat. An expulsion of dark smoke was hacked from the stocky chimney at the ship's stern, and the tub gave a lurch forward in the water. Gathering momentum, they moved at a steady clip, riding the early waters which were already shimmering orange in the hot sun.

Mind racing, Sokka laid on his stomach and processed idea after idea for any merit. He had no choice but to work under the assumption that he was on his own. But going to Ozai was no option. He had to get free.

Unfortunately, his muscles still felt weak as cabbage soup. He could barely roll onto his side or stretch his toes. Whatever had been done to him was lingering. He was impossibly incapacitated.

Eventually his exhausted mind could only drift, eyelids sagging, stinging. But he would not cry, not in frustration or pain or sheer unhappiness. Hazily, he attempted to regain his senses, but there was a pounding overcoming all this thoughts. Pounding. It sounded like someone running on metal.

It was like setting a fuse on fire. The thought weaved through him like a little light, exploding finally into full blown realization. He looked up, eyes wide.

Zuko!

The ship was moving through the water, but the bay butted up against the wall. He looked to the crest of it now, and sure enough someone was sprinting along the ridge of it, bolting so fleetly that their boots clanged like a smithy's hammers on the corrugated, rusted iron with every step. Slowly, he was gaining.

Sokka's bit down on his lip to hold back the cry of surprise and hope that welled in him. As he was facing the bay, distracted with this tasks, Raizu had not realized. Wouldn't realize until it was too late.

It was with a terrible cry that Zuko finally reached them and threw himself into an incredibly gracefully leap towards the small, sea-born vessel. For a moment, it almost seemed as though he had misjudged the distance and would go hurtling into the grey-green waters. But that would have been underestimating the fire-bender. Flexing his body into a tight curl, he made the extra distance easily, falling with a tumble that threatened to overturn the whole vessel.

Raizu cried out, jerking around with surprise. He muddled inquiry of "What in blaz'n –" was cut off by his open mouthed astonishment.

Zuko took a threatening step forward, fists bunched like death. "Get out of this boat," he said, guttural and mean. It was the voice of someone who'd killed and would kill. He repeated himself only once. "Get out of this boat."

Their was no argument. The trader heaved his wide body over the side without a moment's hesitation, dropping into the throbbing sea with his mouth still open and his yellowed eyes almost rolling with fear.

There was a wordless, empty moment. Then Zuko was moving to Sokka's side, untying the ropes and kneading feeling back into his friend's hands and feet. Amazed, almost too relieved to speak, Sokka asked, "How?"

Zuko smiled so infrequently that seeing the genuine expression on his face was quite something. He lifted the soles of his boots, the bottoms of which were charred black, burned so thoroughly that bits of pink flesh showed in places. "I was in a net made of chains. I couldn't get out of them when I struggled, but I tried to think, and I realized that while metal was too strong for me to break while it was cold, heated metal weakens." He paused. "It took a long time. I'm sorry, Sokka."

"Sorry?" the tribesman squeaked. He would have laughed if he wasn't afraid he would cry instead. "You saved me. I'm going to rub it in Katara's face forever."

Zuko cleared his throat. "Actually, maybe we shouldn't tell her. I think I'd rather live with her contempt that try to explain to her how I nearly let someone sell her brother to the Fire Lord."

The ugly tub took them out of the bay and around to the rocks that they'd been warned were so treacherous. They ran the boat deliberately onto the shore, satisfied with the way it wedged into the sharp teeth immovably. If by chance anyone came looking to check the story of two colonial farm boys, they would find the shipwrecked boat just where Sokka had said it would be.

Then they headed inland.

Appa was pleased to see them again. Restlessly, he worried over the Southerner, stroking his bruised face with his great tongue until Sokka actually had to rebuke him. Fully ready to get off the island, the two boys pulled themselves onto the beast's back and buried themselves in the soft fur. They were asleep even before the bison had reached a decent height, trusting the animal to take them home.

Home was a funny word for Zuko to use, even half-asleep and aching head-to-toe beside a snoring Water Tribesman. He took a moment to reflect that his uncle would be impressed with how weird his destiny had become.

He woke much later in the evening as they sailed in a peaceful quiet through the nighttime sky. It always impressed him how soundless it seemed when one was up this high. It wasn't at all like an airballon. No fire, no engine, no scrape of metal. Just air.

To his surprise, Sokka was already sitting up, propped against the side of the saddle. He smiled when Zuko struggled to his knees and came to settle stiffly beside him. "Hey," he said tiredly.

That seemed like a good thing to say. "Hey."

They didn't move for a while. Zuko understood why if Sokka was even half as sore as he was. However, eventually they moved from quiet contemplation to soft conversation. The tribesman led off: "I'm glad you're not dead."

Zuko snorted. "No comment about how convenient it would have been if I'd starved in chains before I joined the group?"

That didn't get the response he expected. Sokka turned his head away. "What a stupid thing to say."

Frowning, Zuko wondered aloud, "What's with you? That was supposed to be funny."

Sokka rebuked him, "Acting as though we'd be glad if you died is never going to be funny. Especially when you sound like you're not sure it isn't true."

That was like cold water in the face. Paralyzed, Zuko wondered. Did he really believe that? Slowly, he said, "I would understand if you did. I don't blame your sister for hating me. I did a lot of terrible things to you."

He'd never seen Sokka really angry. It was an enlightening experience for him. "You're the most incredibly thick-headed moron that I've ever met!" he declared. Turning fully to Zuko, he hissed, "I don't want you to die! Don't you get that you're family?"

He couldn't have more confounded Zuko if he had declared that the fire-bender was related to a cabbage slug. "I-I," he stammered, eyes widened.

But Sokka's irritation had passed, and in it's place was a look of sharp resolve. "You listen. We don't do thinks temporarily in the Water Tribe. Everything we do is so we can survive together. It's a harsh place sometimes." He admitted, and glanced down at his hands. But the moon was reflecting strongly off Appa's white fur, making it glow like ivory or a patchwork of snow. "It's about tribe - family, you understand? You take care of what belongs to you. And when you accept someone, you never take it back. Ever."

The fire-bender shifted uncomfortably. It was obvious he didn't quite get it.

"It's why Katara was so upset with you," Sokka tried again, more forcefully. "Any why she hasn't accepted you. If she does, then its for life, get it? We aren't going to abandon you, Zuko. We can't. You're tribe, at least to me. My father too. He trusts me, trusting you."

And then there it was, recognition of his words. It made Zuko's eyes stretch, the yellow catching the light so that they almost glowed, catlike. He opened his mouth, stammering, "N-no."

Sokka only nodded, kicking his heels as though nothing particularly important had been said. He seemed relieved, in fact, that Zuko had finally grasped the concept. Zuko go the sense that if he'd been another boy sired on an iceberg, this wouldn't have even needed to be said. But since the fire-bender was a little slow and had such a rotten history when it came to such things, Sokka had been patient and spelled it out.

Zuko was overwhelmed.

"I'm telling you that so you can stop being so annoyingly tense all the time, like we're just not going to be there when you wake up," Sokka said. "We're not going anywhere, Zuko, and neither are you. And no one wishes you would die, not even my sister. She'd cry and cry if something happened to you. Do you understand?"

The former prince of the Fire Nation looked across the blue darkness of the immense sky. It was too dark for the expression on his face to be clear, and he was glad. These kinds of conversations were better in the dark.

A little hoarsely, he answered Sokka. "I understand."

They made it back to the Western Air Temple without any further problems. The others were all waiting for them there, some more anxiously than others. "Sokka, are you alright?" Katara had cast down her cooking utensils and immediately gone to assess his injured face.

Suki was there too, hovering at his side.

"I'm fine," he assured them, shrugging helplessly at the attentions of the instant women. His cheek and eye looked terrible, but undoubtedly would heal in a few days. Faster, if his sister had anything to say about it.

"Good news?" Aang asked Zuko hopefully. The others stood nearby, all clearly waiting. The fire-bender caught the firm azure of the eldest tribesman particularly. He thought of what Sokka had said, about the older man trusting him.

If Sokka hadn't been busy, he would have made a joke. Zuko wasn't really equal to such things, but it seemed an appropriate moment to try. He offered, "Well, we didn't die. That's good news right?"

Blank-faced looks, mild astonishment.

It was Sokka who saved him. "We got captured by police and sold into slavery and crashed a boat and drank nasty tea. Oh! And I played with one of those big rhino monsters. One of them impaled me, because Zuko wasn't paying attention."

"Liar!" Zuko snarled, knowing that exaggerated or not he was certain to be blamed.

Suki had pressed her hair under her boyfriend's chin, saying, "Sounds like quite an adventure." But she sounded cheerful. Like the rest of the group, it was obvious that she didn't believe a word that Sokka had said.

The former prince marveled at he way the other boy could do that. Only Hakoda was looking contemplative, as though he knew his son too well and was wondering what to accept. He caught Zuko's eye, and gave him an evaluating look. But ultimately he seemed to conclude that the two had not died, and that would have to be enough.

He favored Zuko with a slight smile. Thank you. Good boy. It was more praise than Zuko could ever remember receiving from his own father, even silently. Tribe. His thoughts returned to offer Sokka had made him.

It meant he didn't have to be apart. However strange the pieced-together family this gang had made, he belonged to it, too. Zuko breathed, feeling light and strange. A surrogate family.

It was sort of incredible.

Author's Note: I vacillated over whether I felt like including Hakoda and Suki in this. It more appropriately reflected cannon since The Boiling Rock doesn't particularly demonstrate the development of a friendship between Sokka and Zuko that you'd expect if they'd had a former excursion together. So I guess I'll just make the assumption that this occurs in the gap between 3:15 and 16 when Azula attacks. Because Sokka and Zuko need to be buddies – I already decided.