Chapter Text
Sokka followed Zuko as the prince ran down the barren blackstone slope, away from the newly spouting volcano behind them. There wasn’t a spot of vegetation in sight. Seriously, did the whole Fire Nation look like this? It sucked.
“Hey! Jerk! Wait up!” Sokka called.
Zuko actually looked over his shoulder. Ha! He could totally hear him.
“What are you doing?” Zuko scowled. “I forbid you to follow me!”
“Too bad,” Sokka said, falling into step beside him.
Zuko’s ship was docked and waiting on the other side of the island. Now that Sokka had gotten an eyeful of Zhao’s ship, he saw how much of an old bucket of bolt’s Zuko’s was in comparison. Wasn’t he supposed to be a prince?
The gangplank was lowered and Zuko paused before stepping onto it, leveling a glare at Sokka.
“I don’t invite you into my home, spirit.”
“I’m not a spirit,” Sokka said, and easily followed Zuko up onto the deck.
Visibly gritting his teeth, Zuko turned away from him to bark at the crew, “We need to leave Fire Nation waters. Push the engines as hard as they’ll take. ”
The old, fat guy who followed Zuko around stepped up. He looked over the prince, concerned, but seeing no burn marks, seemed satisfied. He didn’t so much as glance Sokka’s way. “I am glad you’re well, Nephew. What happened?”
“I would have captured the Avatar, if Zhao’s men hadn’t gotten in the way,” Zuko complained.
His uncle hummed. “Or, Zhao might have captured the Avatar if you had not gotten in his way.”
“I have no patience for your puzzles, Uncle!” Zuko snapped.
“Wow. Rude much?” Sokka said.
Zuko’s glower deepened. “I’ll be in my room. Alert me if anything happens.”
He turned and strode away.
Naturally, Sokka followed. “So, you going to explain why you can see me?”
Zuko ignored him.
“Because you’re the only one, so far,” Sokka continued. “Even Aang couldn’t see me. And he’s supposed to be in tune with that sort of thing.”
Zuko ducked into his cabin and shut the door right in Sokka’s face.
Like that was going to do anything. Sokka didn’t even break step as he phased right in after him.
The pattern between them was set, and dragged on the rest of the evening as Zuko eventually emerged from his cabin to make his rounds around the ship and yell at the crew for not doing their jobs fast enough.
Sokka knew Zuko could hear him—he had started developing a twitch over his good eye whenever Sokka monologged at him, but refused to look in his direction or acknowledge his existence.
But Zuko had to sleep. Sokka, apparently, did not.
“ENOUGH!” Zuko broke about three hours past midnight, while Sokka was describing all the types of fish one could catch in the short, polar autumn harvest. Sitting up from his bed, he shot a blast of fire straight at Sokka.
Sokka yelped and covered his face, but of course the flames passed completely through him to hit the far wall.
“Ha!” He lowered his arms, laughing. “Look at that. I’m flame proof!”
Zuko glowered for a few moments. Then, abruptly, slumped. His hands rubbed at his face “What do you want?”
“Why can you see me when no one else can?” Sokka held up one finger, then another. “And how do I undo whatever’s been done?”
“How should I know?” Zuko snapped. “I don’t know what killed you!”
“I’m not dead!”
“I’ve seen my Uncle walk through you.”
Sokka waved that away. “Doesn’t matter. I would know if I died, and I didn’t. So there.”
For the first time, Zuko looked uneasy. “Seeing ghosts is supposed to be very unlucky.”
“What?”
“I’m unlucky.” The word was weighted somehow in a way Sokka couldn’t quite understand. “People see ghosts when they’re on the edge of death, themselves.”
“That sounds like a really stupid Fire Nation superstition,” Sokka decided. “Plus, it doesn’t count because I’m not a ghost.”
Zuko let out a long, gusty sigh. “Fine. How did you end up this way?”
So, Sokka told him about his encounter Hei Bai (emphasizing how much the Fire Nation was very much at fault for burning down the forest in the first place). When he was done, Zuko stared flat at him. “So a spirit killed you, and in punishment isn’t letting you go to whatever Water Tribe afterlife you have. Great.”
“That is… that is absolutely not what happened!” Sokka sputtered. “Have you been listening at all?”
“Whatever.” Zuko flopped back down. He looked exhausted. “I don’t know what happened to you, and right now I don’t care. Let me sleep. I’m going to be up in three hours and forty minutes.”
“What?”
“The sunrise. Firebenders rise with it…” He trailed off, eyes sliding shut.
Did he just fall asleep? Sokka would have poked him, if he could.
He looked closer and noted the even rise and fall of Zuko’s chest. Definitely asleep. Asshole.
Watching someone sleep was stupid-boring. So Sokka went about exploring the ship. Most of the crew was also asleep—even those supposed to be on the watch, he noted with snide amusement.
Zuko’s uncle’s snores could be heard through half the ship. Even through bulk-heads. Yikes.
Sure enough, the jerk was awake, looking half-dead but moving, as soon as the sun rose. So were most of the ship.
He was also back to ignoring Sokka.
That was fine with Sokka because —hello— he was invisible on a Fire Nation ship. He was the ultimate spy! As soon as he was visible again, he could tell Aang everything.
… But, it turned out there wasn’t much he could report on… Other than the crew liked to call Zuko really unflattering names when he was away. The impressions were spot-on, though.
Not his Uncle, however. The man was either really good at keeping his opinions to himself or really cared for his nephew—which was weird because Zuko routinely said disrespectful things that would have gotten Sokka slapped across the face if he’d repeated them to his Gran-Gran.
Whenever Zuko actually acknowledged Sokka’s presence (always in the privacy of his own cabin where no one would see him talking to empty air) their conversations mostly went like this:
“Tell me where the Avatar is heading.”
“How should I know?”
“Well, where is he most likely to stop?”
“Wherever he wants. He’s a twelve-year-old boy with the attention span of an arctic goldfish.”
He jabbed his finger at the map. “Well, what about this port?”
“Seriously? Why would I help you capture my sister and friend?”
“If you want my help, you will corporate, peasant!”
“Hey, jerk, The only reason I’m here is because you’re the only one who can see. me. It’s not by choice.”
Then Zuko usually would throw a fireball at Sokka, which did nothing. In fact, it happened so often that after a few days, Sokka didn’t even flinch any longer. Or Zuko would walk away. (Sometimes, Sokka would follow along anyway just to hiss annoying things in his ear.) Or they’d get so sick of each other that Zuko would stomp off to be an asshole to the rest of his crew, and Sokka would stomp off in the other direction, wondering what he did wrong in his past life to deserve this… and missing Katara and Aang so much that he ached.
Then, the day came where Zuko ignored the advice of his own navigator and ordered the ship to head to a nearby port, determined that the Avatar must have stopped there… and ended up sailing his ship into the middle of a hurricane, instead.
“Good going, asshole,” Sokka said, joining Zuko on the deck as the ship bucked and rolled under truly massive swells. “You’re probably going to get half your crew washed aboard.” He paused for a beat. “Oh well, less Fire Nation for decent people to worry about.”
“Shut up!” Zuko snapped and was treated by very startled looks from the rest of his crew.
“I’m sorry, sir?” Lieutenant Jee said.
Zuko flushed and whipped around to him. “I know what I”m doing! Keep this heading, Lieutenant. That’s an order.”
He stomped off. Sokka stayed behind and didn’t miss the hateful looks the rest of the crew threw at his back.
To his horror, he actually felt a measure sympathy for the crew for having to be stuck on the ship with Zuko. This whole thing had been a waste of time. The moment they hit the next port, Sokka was out.
For lack of anything else to do, Sokka followed Zuko’s uncle for a few hours… though he proved to be just as boring as Aang and Katara. It so tedious hanging around someone who couldn’t see or hear him. Sokka had an active, social personality. Solitude drove him nuts.
He followed the crew down to the hold and listened to them bitch and complain about Zuko. He’d heard it all before, but with drink and the misery of being stuck on a rolling ship, the talk was more vicious, more bitter than usual.
Shit, Sokka realized. If the asshole’s not careful, he might have a full mutiny on his hands soon.
He wasn’t the only one who was concerned. Just when the complaints got truly dangerous, Iroh stepped in from the shadows.
The crewmen were startled and rightfully worried. Sokka sat back, waiting for the fireworks.
But Iroh was… understanding. He sat among the crew, took a drink, and started to tell a story.
… A very horrifying story of a boy who’d been only a little older than Aang, standing up for the safety of his people… and getting half his face burnt off by his own father because of it.
“That doesn’t excuse the way he acts,” Sokka said, trying not to act as shaken as he felt. “Bad stuff happens. My mom was killed. My dad left me and my sister to fight the war, and I don’t take it out on other people.”
Judging by the looks the crew were throwing at each other, many thought the same thing… though the mood wasn’t as darkly ominous before. These were no longer dangerously angry men who were revving themselves up to do something drastic. Just sad, frustrated… and resigned.
Then a cry came up the deck. Lightning had struck the ship.
Sokka arrived with the rest of the crew—some walking through him, he hated that—in time to see one of the helmsmen hanging from his fingertips from the crows nest… and Zuko braving the storm to climb up the rain-slick ladder and save him.
“You idiot!” Sokka yelled, helpfully. “You’re going to fall!”
He watched Zuko slip twice before he reached the dangling man, but his sheer bullheadedness won out.
Sokka was torn between exasperation and admiration. Okay, so maybe Zuko wasn’t one-hundred percent evil, but that still left a lot of evil. He was still the enemy of the world, and to everyone Sokka cared about, specifically.
Then Sokka received ultimate proof that the universe hated him because at that very second the skies parted and Appa could be seen overhead.
“The Avatar!” Zuko turned to Sokka. “What is he doing?”
Sokka squinted. Unlike everyone else, the driving rain didn’t bother his eyes. “Saving a fisherman. Can’t you see the boat?” He could just make out two figures aboard Appa. Katara and Aang—to far away to get to, even if Sokka didn’t have to worry about drowning.
“Sir!” Jee yelled. “We can’t take another lightning strike like that.”
Zuko visibly warred with himself: Go after the Avatar, or save the ship. “Turn around. We need to head to the eye of the storm. The waters will be calmer there.”
“Yes, sir!”
Zuko turned his back on the Avatar as if it pained him.
It’s not really about Aang, Sokka realized, remembering part of Iroh’s story. He can’t go home again until he captures the Avatar.
Shitty position to be in. Sokka could at least acknowledge that even if it didn’t change the fact that Zuko was still his enemy.
However, the crew’s attitude improved after the storm. Zuko had earned a little of their respect, and the eye-rolls and muttered backtalk went down quite a bit. In return, Zuko became less prickly. Sokka hadn’t even realized Zuko had noticed—or cared—how much the crew hated him.
They sailed out of the weaker side of the storm, but repairs meant a couple days of downtime.
Zuko took the opportunity to harangue Sokka over maps, or else practice firebending out on the deck with his uncle. After every firebending session, his Uncle would rope him into a game of Pai Sho.
Zuko, sullen and irritable, would sit down at the game table, make faces over tea, and barely play, rolling his eyes at every turn. It never helped that he got his ass-kicked by the old man every. single. time.
“Wait,” Sokka said. “Don’t move that piece.”
Zuko actually stopped. “You know how to play Pai Sho?”
Iroh looked up form his tea. “Excuse me, Nephew?”
He colored. “Nothing, Uncle.”
“No,” Sokka said, “But he’s making the same exact play that he was yesterday. Remember how you lost in, like, ten moves?” He pointed toward an earth tile in the corner. “Move that forward. His flank is weaker there.”
Zuko’s eyes flicked to him. Then, miracle upon miracles, he moved the tile.
“Interesting strategy,” Iroh commented, and moved his own.
They exchanged pieces for a few moves. Zuko was a halfway decent player when he was paying attention.
Sokka sat, watching the play with a hand on his chin. “Stop. That’s a trap.”
Again, Zuko’s hand halted, a hair above the tile he was about to move.
Sokka bent to examine the board more closely. “Seems a little too obvious, doesn’t it? That he’d just happen leave all these tiles exposed?”
“Maybe I’m winning,” Zuko muttered under his breath.
“Trust me. You’re not,” Sokka said. “Is your Uncle the type to go easy on you?”
“No one ever goes easy on me,” he grumbled.
Iroh was now looking at Zuko curiously. “What was that, Nephew?”
Zuko shook his head and reached again for the tile.
“I’m telling you, don’t move that one,” Sokka insisted, coming around to sit beside Zuko. He pointed to another rank of tiles on Zuko’s side. “Use these air tiles to attack from above.”
Again, Zuko hesitated.
There was no need to whisper — Sokka could have yelled from the top of his lungs and Iroh couldn’t have heard him. He had no excuse to do what he did, bending down to whisper it directly into Zuko’s unburned ear. “Trust me.”
This close, Sokka saw a shiver roll down Zuko’s spine, as if he felt Sokka’s breath on the back of his neck.
Zuko moved the air tile.
Iroh actually set his teacup down, brows furrowed. He tried to correct with a defensive move, but the damage was done. Two more rounds and Zuko had taken Iroh’s Avatar tile.
“The game goes to you, Nephew.” Iroh looked across the game board at Zuko oddly. Clearly, this had never happened before. “Well done.”
Standing, Zuko bowed. “Thank you, Uncle.” A pause. “I believe the loser puts away the pieces?”
Then he turned and walked off.
Sokka let out a whoop, and let the full victory dance commence, jerking his arms and swaying hips to a sweet beat only he could hear in his mind.
“What are you doing?” There was a weird expression on Zuko’s face. It was almost—almost a smile.
“What does it look like? This is my victory dance!” He preceded to wave his arms like he just didn’t care.
“You look like an idiot.”
“I look like a victor! Whoo!”
The evil prince actually smiled before he caught himself with a shake of his head. Then he walked off to go yell at his men for slacking off swabbing the deck.