Chapter Text
Zuko disappears into the temple as soon as they land. No one pays him any mind, all of them too busy fretting over Sokka. He slips away, his footsteps quiet and his heart drumming in his chest. The room is was given in the temple is untouched, all of his stuff where he left it. Part of him had feared the kids would pillage it, the way Azula surely would have, but nothing is missing.
The room reminds him too much of himself. Of who he is and cannot escape. That person got his friend tortured, today. Turning on his heels, Zuko flees his room and dives deeper into the temple.
Hours later, Sokka finds him in one of the meditation rooms, staring at the flickering flame in front of him. He drops next to Zuko, and Zuko’s breath catches in his throat.
“Are you avoiding me?” asks Sokka.
“No,” answers Zuko automatically.
Sokka snorts. “Sure. Wanna try again?”
Zuko finally looks at Sokka, conveying all of his annoyance in a glare. Sokka’s face has recovered his usual cheer and he seems entirely healed, but Zuko can still see the pain hidden beneath the surface, swimming in his eyes and making his smile waver ever-so-slightly.
“I’m not—” Zuko tries again, but Sokka presses his hand to Zuko’s mouth. Zuko instantly shuts up and his cheeks burst into flames. Metaphorical flames, though the candle flickers violently. Sokka, on the contrary, doesn’t seem fazed by their proximity.
“Zuko, buddy. You’re great at a lot of things, but lying really isn’t your forte. You went to the far end of the temple as soon as we landed, or so Dad said. How are you not avoiding me?”
Zuko looks away and Sokka drops his hand. “I’m avoiding everyone,” admits Zuko. “Not you specifically.”
Zuko doesn’t even understand how Sokka can stand to be in the same room as him, after being tortured because of him mere hours earlier. It matters little that Katara healed him; the mental scars will stay no matter what. Zuko would know.
“Why?” asks Sokka, genuine confusion sipping in his voice.
“I got you hurt,” whispers Zuko. Shame and guilt clog his throat, merging into one until he can’t discern which starts where and which prompted the other.
“Last time I checked, it was your sister who hurt me, not you. Unless you did some weird spirit thing and inhabited her body for a while. That’s not impossible, I’ve seen some strange spirit things, but somehow I doubt that’s what happened.”
Zuko stares at Sokka. Amusement shines in the other boy’s eyes. “I don’t think switching spirits is possible, Sokka,” says Zuko.
Sokka shrugs. “You can’t be certain unless it’s been proved.” His voice softens as he continues. “But if that’s not what happened, then why are you blaming yourself?”
How can he not understand? Sokka is one of the smartest people Zuko knows, surely he has understood the part Zuko took in his torture. Perhaps it is a trap. Perhaps he wants Zuko to admit it himself. It is something Azula would have done, but Sokka is not Azula. He is a kind soul, far more than Zuko deserves.
“She wouldn’t have hurt you if I hadn’t fled. Or if I hadn’t shown that I care.”
Sokka cocks his head to the side. “You chose yourself when she asked you to pick someone to torture. You were ready to be the one to hurt. How could you have known that she wouldn’t respect your choice?”
Zuko throws his hands in the air. Sokka is being deliberately obtuse and Zuko’s already thin patience is going up in smoke, turmoil churning inside him. He doesn’t understand why Sokka is so intent on saying Zuko wasn’t at fault.
“Because she always plays mind games!” he answers. “She’s my sister, I know how she works. I should have anticipated that she would do something like that and countered it.”
“How? Would you have deliberately chosen someone else than yourself to be hurt? I can’t see you doing that, with how self-sacrificing you are.”
“I’m not self-sacrificing,” mumbles Zuko, but Sokka is right. Like always, Azula managed to lead him into a trap. Zuko should have anticipated it. He should have been better, so that she would have hurt him and no one else. Better yet, he shouldn’t even have allowed them to be captured.
“Do you think what your sister said about me was true?” asks Sokka suddenly, voice thick and abrupt. Zuko’s head whips up and he stares wide-eyed at the boy in front of him. His posture is casual, but Zuko can spot the lines of tension running through his body.
“No,” says Zuko in a breath. He could never. Azula told Sokka he is worthless. That he is useless and that no one wants him around. But Zuko knows it is false. He has witnessed the genius of Sokka’s brain, his cheerfulness and determination, his strategic mind, and his selfless soul.
“You don’t… believe it, do you?” asks Zuko hesitantly.
“I try not to.” Sokka looks him in the eyes. “But if you don’t believe that, why would you believe what Azula said about you? Didn’t you say she always lies?”
She does. But there are also moments of truth. Azula has always had a gift to tear people apart, to notice their weaknesses, the cracks in their armors, and bring the whole structure down just from that.
“Because it was true,” he replies.
Sokka sighs. “Spirits help us, you’re worse than me. Or maybe I’m not the right person for this talk.” He shakes his head, and Zuko feels even more lost. “What I’m trying to get at, Zuko, is that none of it was your fault. Your sister is one of a kind, and it’s not a good kind. She wanted to hurt you, and she wanted to do that through someone else. Because she knew you would blame yourself. That doesn’t mean it was your fault. You sacrificed yourself. Or, well, tried to, anyway. You did everything you could and I don’t blame you for a single thing that happened at the prison. It probably would have been worse if you hadn’t been there to help me. Because then your sister might have simply killed us or left us to rot in prison.”
Tears blur Zuko’s vision. It can’t— It can’t be true. But Azula always lies, doesn’t she?
“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, though he isn’t sure what he is sorry about.
Sokka sighs, and gentle hands pull Zuko in a hug.
“Don’t be. You’re the only one who blames you, Zuko. You should be kinder to yourself.”
Maybe Sokka is right. But Zuko is only used to kindness coming from Uncle Iroh. He doesn’t know how to be kind to himself. He isn’t even quite certain he deserves it.
“Shh,” says Sokka. “I can hear you thinking too much. Stop it. From now on, I’m deciding that overthinking is forbidden.”
Zuko snorts. “You overthink as much as me.”
“I make the rules. I can break them if I want to.”
From the threshold, Hakoda watches the two boys bicker as the setting sun shrouds the room in liquid gold. He was worried about both of them, but now he knows they will be alright, given time and each other.