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zuko makes it out to the yard, and freezes at the sight of hakoda. he knows -- knows -- that this was the point of their entire stupid mission, finding hakoda, bringing him home. but it’s not so simple, it’s never that simple. zuko sees the man, broad shoulders and strong hands, and his brain starts screaming danger father danger. he puts his body between hakoda and sokka without thinking, would do it a thousand times. sokka doesn’t seem to notice, pushing past zuko to get a better look as suki climbs the walls to the warden.
zuko doesn’t stop -- he knows what it feels like to be the non-prodigal child -- knows how fathers treat the less gifted child. he can’t leave sokka alone with his dad. on the airship, he keeps to sokka’s side like a shadow, never mind that he’s shaking like a leaf from exhaustion and hakoda is twice his size. zuko came too close to losing sokka during the gondola fight, he’s not going to -- wait, when did he start to care that much? hakoda fusses over sokka’s bruises as they fly home, and all zuko can think about when sokka says they’re from the riot is how often he lied when no don’t think about that.
“so -- sokka, show me around the temple?” hakoda asks, after they’ve landed and eaten. zuko stiffens where he sits at the edge of the firelight, putting his bowl down. no no no he wants to yell, stay away from him . sokka didn’t mean to, it’s not his fault you were there --
“step aside, son --” zuko blinks, and realises that he’s standing between hakoda and sokka with no memory of how he got there.
“zuko, what’s going on?” sokka asks, and he can’t breathe -- he can’t breathe -- and hakoda is looking at him and sokka sounds … scared?
“hey sparky!” toph’s voice cuts through the panic. zuko looks up at the earthbender, who wiggles her toes in the dirt. his brow furrows, and then smooths as he realizes what she means. face flushed red with shame embarrassment terror he steps away from sokka and bows to hakoda. he runs after that, fleeing the questioning accusing hateful wrong wrong wrong eyes of the others. he climbs down to a level below where he and aang practice firebending where he can be alone.
zuko runs through katas, letting the rhythm of the movements calm his thoughts. it takes until well after the sun goes down, until his body is completely exhausted for his thoughts to stop running he’s gonna -- he should have -- he made it worse he hopes sokka can run walk he’s so big his hands are so -- and put his faith that toph listened with her feet. he doesn’t like putting faith in anyone else, he hadn’t needed someone else in so long it feels like abandonment. he climbs up to the sleeping level of the temple where everyone else is fast asleep. sokka and katara are curled up in their sleeping bags, half on top of hakoda. sokka looks … peaceful. zuko can’t see any marks, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any hidden wounds. dragging his sleeping mat closer to the dying fire, zuko curls up and tries to sleep.
zuko wakes up unable to breathe, the air feeling heavy with the expectation of rain. he needs to get out, needs to -- he gets up quietly. leaving his sleeping mat unrolled, he wanders the temple ruins. climbing up a level, he finds what he needs. there’s a quiet, empty space among the stones and crumbled columns overrun with vines. zuko settles onto the ground near the edge, shifting to seiza. his hands cupped around a small flame that rises and falls with his breath, zuko focuses on trying to tame his wild thoughts. he can hear uncle’s voice walking him through the morning meditation, breaths that do not just fill his lungs, the counting that keeps his brain from running around in circles sometimes. zuko is so deep in his meditation, he doesn’t hear footsteps behind him.
“you don’t trust me with my own son.” hakoda says, sitting on a stone to the right on zuko. zuko starts and stares at the man’s hands, unable to stop imagining what they’d look like around sokka’s neck he feels sick to his stomach. “my own son .”
“i know how a father treats the non-prodigal child,” zuko mutters, focusing on the flame in his cupped hands, watching it flicker with his breath, the one thing he can feel like he has control over. “i won’t let you hurt him.” a chill runs up his spine, and he closes his eyes for a moment.
hakoda sighs, cradling his head in his hands. zuko -- zuko was not expecting that reaction and it throws him off balance. there’s a part of zuko’s brain yelling at him to shut up, shut up, shut up but his mouth misses the memo.
“he’s strong -- and he trained with a sword master -- and he -- he -- he.” zuko takes a deep breath, trying to calm the ball of fire that rests in the pit of his stomach. “he may not be a bender but he -- you can’t -- it's not his fault!”
“i think that we do not understand each other.” hakoda says, running his hands through his hair, his water-tribe beads clacking together.
“i --”
“at first, i thought it was because i was a stranger, but you don’t look at chit sang the same way. and then, you don’t protect any of the others the same way, not even katara -- only sokka.”
“yes sir.” zuko says quietly, letting the flame in his hands go out. the others don’t need it, he wants to scream, but he’s terrified that the man will hold it against sokka when zuko can’t be there no one can be there --
“what i can’t figure out,” hakoda says slowly, watching zuko’s face for his reaction, “is why.”
zuko straightens in his seiza, turning his head so his scar faces hakoda-- it feels incredibly vulnerable, letting the man into his blind spot where his eye never recovered. he pulls back his hair, showing the full extent of the damage.
“my -- i know fathers, one face in public and another in private.” zuko says, turning back to meet hakoda’s eyes. “my sister was born lucky -- i was lucky to ever be born.”
“and you think it’s the same with sokka and katara.” hakoda’s eyes haven’t left zuko’s scar, and he flushes but keeps his gaze steady. he doesn’t know what to say -- “you think i’d hurt my son. ” hakoda says quietly, shifting from his rock to the ground. it puts him closer to zuko, and zuko shrinks, flinching. “you think i’ll do the same to you.”
zuko closes his eye, and waits for the slap he’s sure will come. either hakoda is a good father like uncle and is insulted that zuko could ever think that, or he’s like ozai and all zuko can hope for is to take the brunt of his wrath instead of sokka.
the slap fist foot knife fire fire pain never comes. zuko opens his eye slowly, hesitantly. hakoda is closer to him, one hand extended like he’s going to reach out and touch zuko’s face, fingers matching the path of the burn. zuko falls out of seiza, backing away from hakoda.
“don’t touch me.” he spits out, his heart racing.
“there were stories,” hakoda says slowly, not moving any closer. “and we thought that’s all they were, propaganda -- either from the fire nation or the earth kingdom.” he backs up slightly, giving zuko space. “but they weren’t, were they.” it’s not a question, but a statement of fact.
“no, they weren’t.” zuko says quietly. “i disrespected my father.”
“you were a child.”
“i learned.” what lesson he learned, he can’t tell hakoda -- it gets caught in his throat. he watches the man process what he’s been told, unsure of how he’s supposed to feel. zuko settles on the safety of seiza, and realizes that hakoda is -- crying? now he’s really not sure what he should be feeling. not for the first time, he wishes that uncle was there. he’s crying too, a swirling ball of grief and fear and anger.
“you learned.” hakoda repeats back to him after a long pause to wipe his tears. “spirits -- you were a kid!” his voice gets loud, and zuko can’t stop the flinch. “i’m sorry.”
sokka’s voice rings through the temple, loud and clear: “daaaad! zuko! breakfast!” zuko moves, rising from seiza into a kata without thinking.
“give us a minute, son!” hakoda calls back, standing and dusting the dirt from his clothes. “we’ll be right there.” zuko doesn’t move -- and hakoda sighs. “i don’t know how to convince you to trust me,” he says, watching zuko with sharp eyes. “other than showing you.” zuko can’t imagine ever trusting him. he can’t imagine ever looking at the man’s hands without -- he wants to puke. his mouth is dry, and all he can do is step aside and let hakoda move past him.
as soon as he's alone, zuko falls to his knees and retches up what little he has in his stomach. he replays hakoda's words in his head over and over again, shaking with exhaustion and the fear of his own boldness. how could he have spoken to the clan chief -- sokka's father -- like that? he props himself up against a broken column, and closes his eyes. exhaustion gives way to an hour of fitful sleep.
when he dreams, he dreams of smoke and flesh and of the rock of the ocean waves.