Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Spirit vines damasked the presidential palace, all who entered could not see outside unobstructed anymore. It was a space consumed – in more ways than one. 

President Raiko’s eyes pierced the window to his right to see only green. An action repeated dozens of times the past year. He cannot see outside like he once did. His eyes are chased away by the voice of his head of security, and Raiko is returned to the tense tempo of his council meeting.

He was not a man of miracles. Raiko was a non-bender, a fighter nevertheless, but his element was words, deals, and reading the hearts of men through the incline of a head and the frown of their countenance.

The people of the United Republic were not interested in men like him. The masses, the ones who once acclaimed him, now jeered. They read about the Avatar, Korra, a girl still, and marveled even though she littered the city with vines in the first place. They scorned him for banning her.

The people wanted a hero. Raiko knew words, speeches, and hearts. He used all he had for this young nation. Yet, the people still only saw him as dealing in the unglamorous world of politics. Raiko knew he was a hero, unsung.

And he now stood to lose everything.

“Sir, I cannot emphasize it enough,” his head of security gravely intoned. “How dangerous it is to let tomorrow’s protest go forward. There will be an estimated five thousand people. You know just as well as I that some of them wish to do you harm. If we station the United Forces, we can stop the protest before it even begins.”

A scoff cut through the council room. “Yeah, station the United Forces and see what happens tomorrow. Need I remind you, officer, that the protests are against the demolition of the Dragon Flat Bourgh’s southern district. These people are coming from across the city. They won’t be deterred by some men in uniform. At best they’ll be driving away, and the protest will still happen elsewhere. At worst a riot will break out.”  

Raiko was tasked with rebuilding this city. To do that he needed land; the city needed revenue. When the entertainment district was pierced with spirit vines and spirit wilds he and several prominent men were nearly destroyed financially. The Dragon Flat bough could give the land the city needed to survive.

The people didn’t like a hero who had to make tough sacrifices, despite Raiko so kindly explaining it to them. They’d see one day though. If he survived the rest of today, tomorrow, and the rest of his term, he may even be thanked .

“This wouldn’t be as bad if Ambassador Watanabe did his job,” the head of security grumbled.

All eyes turned towards a man in harsh reds. “Prince Iroh II making a speech in support of tomorrow’s little gathering wasn’t something I could control,” Watanabe, Raiko’s ambassador to the Fire Nation, spat back. “He doesn’t come to me proclaiming what he will and will not say. Last time I tried a hands-on approach, gentlemen, he told me he was a general, not a prince.”

Raiko’s fists tightened beneath the desk. Prince Iroh II, his supposed general, made a speech of support for tomorrow’s protesters. Going on about his sensibilities, about right and wrong, about how cruel Raiko was for saving this city’s economy, he has stirred the people to a fever pitch.

Iroh II, of ancient dynasty and legendary ancestry, first in line for the Fire Nation’s throne, spent his days dripping his bleeding heart all-over the city, with Raiko having to clean up after him.

One could be a hero and still hate, no? Raiko certainly thought so. Iroh II, one who had everything, still took from him, and so Raiko fostered a hatred for someone he could not control, someone he could not cull, someone who received the unworthy adulation of the crowds.

“Then let’s just have Prince Iroh stationed far away. I don’t care. Just sent the damn order out tonight, and he’ll essentially be gone,” the head of security fired back.

“Do you know how popular Iroh is?” Raiko’s voice was the only thing in the vacuum. “Such a move will be seen by the people for what it is: to remove Iroh from Republic City. That will further sink my approval ratings, not help them!”

No one spoke, and Raiko will lay it all bare. “We cannot take another hit. We have a month until the nationwide referendum on ousting me from office.” He took a deep breath.

“If I go down, I will not be the one suffering. If I am voted out, I will not be the one who bleeds. It will be you, gentlemen. You will never get another post, another opportunity, or even another quiet walk outside your penthouse apartments. When you look your children straight in the eye you’ll be forced to see me there. That’s how much you need me to be quiet. That’s how much you need me to survive this referendum.”

Years of spying had given Raiko amble material for ruination of all who worked for him. Ambassador Watanabe, the head of security, and all others in that room blanched. Raiko took in and savored it for the briefest of moments, in the way no leader should.

“Gentlemen, it is not I who is in need of miracles. It is you.”

Raiko slammed his hand on the desk, getting a good jump out of a few of them.

“Am I understood?” He bellowed.

His gaze shifted right to the dulce melody of “sir, yes sirs.” The crack of sky, Raiko could see between the spirit vines, was ablaze with greens, pinks, and purples of an aurora borealis rarely seen in this part of the world.

The first sign of his miracle shined just for him. He was sure of it.

Aang woke up first. He could have sworn he fell asleep in the forest but now he, Katara, Sokka, and Appa were tucked behind some bushes in a lush park. It was still the middle of the night, but Aang decided to wake his friends up anyway. Being randomly transported wasn’t something to sleep through.

“What is it, Aang?” Sokka groaned with eyes squeezed shut. 

“Wake up guys. Something really weird happened,” Aang trailed off. It was unusually bright at their campsite. The airbender turned around and gasped when his eyes caught sight of giant towers soaring into the sky.

“Where are we?” Sokka asked, fully awake now, taking in the same sight. “Katara, get up…something weird is going on.”

Katara reluctantly sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “What are those?”

“This is bad. Is this—is this the Fire Nation, Aang?” Sokka asked, waking Appa up.

Aang furrowed his brow. It didn’t look like anywhere in the Fire Nation he knew of, but if his time in the ice taught him anything it was that a lot could happen in a hundred years. “I don’t know, but we should get out of here.”

The “we’ve been taken to the Fire Nation” hypothesis was shattered when the kids flew by Aang’s statue in the harbor.

“That’s—Aang that’s you!” Katara exclaimed.

“That’s you, buddy. Thank Tui and La we’re not in the Fire Nation,” Sokka said, relief coloring his voice.

Aang though was more drawn to the Air Nomad architecture of the island nearby than the statue. “Can we stop on that island? It looks like one of the Airbending Temples,” Aang asked, hoping his friends said yes. “Maybe they can tell us where we are?”

Sokka hesitated. “I don’t know. We may not be in the Fire Nation, but this place is still weird. No amount of Aang statues can change that.” Sokka struck a pose that resembled Aang’s statue.

“Come on, Sokka! Just look at the place,” Katara chimed in. She swatted a hand at her brother which made him drop the statue-esque pose. 

“There might be Airbenders here,” Aang added on. He knew not to get his hopes up, but there was airbender architecture and a statue of him .  

Sokka wordlessly guided Appa to the island landing in an open square. Wind chimes sang softly in the breeze, airbending gates— Aang recognized the design— stood fully restored, Gyatsu’s favorite wildflower dotting the grasses. It was the first glimpse of a home Aang thought was gone.

“I guess we should just knock on the door?” Katara questioned, bringing Aang out of the moment.

The group secured Appa near a large patch of grass and walked up the porch bringing them face to face with wooden doors- carvings of the wind’s swirls.

Aang beat everyone by knocking first. The last airbender held his breath hoping someone, an airbender, would answer.

To his shock, it opened, and a girl dressed in yellow and orange stared back at them.

“Are you an airbender?” He blurted out. Her eyebrows further shot up, but she bent a gentle breeze past the group.

“Yes,” she said, although a bit hesitantly. 

For the first time in a long time, Aang didn’t feel like he had to carry the legacy of his people alone. He gave her a bone crushing hug before she could say anything else.

Each time Aang found himself zeroing in on details for a few moments he felt like it could be back at the Southern Air Temple, but there were noticeable differences too.

The lights of the city lit up the outside colonnades and there were murals featuring the four nations that Aang had never seen before. Wires ran along the seams of the ceiling in some rooms.

It was Air Nomad, but it had undergone a transformation Aang couldn’t recognize. He knew he should be happy that there was a temple, but still it stung. What he was used to was gone.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought you were spirits,” the girl broke the silence.

Katara wanted to question what she meant, but Sokka had other plans.

“Who are you?” her brother started.

“I’m Jinora… My dad is the leader of the Air Nation. He’ll…he’ll want to speak with you as soon as possible,” the girl, Jinora, said, picking up her pace.

“There’s more Air Nomads?” Aang asked. Jinora simply said yes, but left it at that.

Aang was about to ask more but Sokka put a hand on his shoulder.

“Something is strange about this place,” he whispered to which Aang frowned.

Katara agreed. Jinora, acting like she hadn’t heard the entire exchange, was welcoming but there was something else about her. Katara could tell she was holding her true thoughts back.

The hallways narrowed and Aang turned to talking about how similar this air temple looked to the dormitories of the Southern Air Temple.

Jinora nodded. “Yes, my grandparents-based Air Temple Island on the Southern Air Temple.”

A voice rang out from down the hall. “Jinora, who are you talking to?”

From a candlelit room stepped out a man bearing striking resemblance to Aang, tattoos and all. When the man’s eyes saw the three children behind Jinora his face paled.

“Spirits!” 

Jinora shook her head. “Dad, I thought that at first too, but they’re very real.”

The man seemed as nervous as the three felt. “Then it appears we have much to discuss.”

Jinora had shut the sliding door behind them, and Aang had exploded with a million anxious yet excited questions. Sokka was staying silent, and Katara was trying to see if this was real. The glittering city outside which she could glimpse through the wooden shutters of the office– she’d never seen such a thing.

Gran-Gran said her parents lived in an ice city large enough to rival the Fire Nation’s capital. But that was the past, one long buried in ash. And while the city outside was clearly not Southern Water Tribe. It seemed like a peculiar blend between Earth Kingdom and what Katara guessed must be Fire Nation. It was far larger than Omashu. It had no walls, ruling out Ba Sing Se.

The war made cities like the one she just saw impossible. Cities only glowed so brightly for one reason…

Fire. 

Ash raining from the skies, fire torching the barricades, her mother urging her to go.

But she saw no smoke on the horizon, nor did she taste it in the air. Aang and Sokka were okay, seated next to her. 

And these people…airbenders? If the city truly were aflame, Katara imagined that this father-daughter duo would not be welcoming them into their home as if for a meeting. 

Wherever this light was coming from, the source was tamed. 

The thought made her uneasy. The Fire Nation, for her fourteen years of being alive and the century preceding, had never been tame. 

The master airbender, Tenzin, all the while looked increasingly nervous. He masked his discomfort as well as Sokka did whenever he stubbed his toe or failed to catch anything fishing.

“Tell us where exactly we are,” Katara started.

“You’re in Republic City.”

Sokka began to catch on. “There’s no such thing.”  Aang looked between the siblings and the other monk of the room who only sighed.

“You’re right, and there’s no easy way to say this. Tell me first what you were doing before you woke up?”

Aang patiently reiterated the past week’s encounters: the siblings being sick in Taku, his capture in Pohuai, their continued travel north. Tenzin nodded along but still looked troubled.

“No spiritual encounters?”

The group looked to one another before shaking their heads no, though Aang detailed Roku’s warning about Sozin’s Comet. Tenzin seemed unsurprised that the former Avatar had given the current one such a dire deadline, only muttering, “That’s supposed to happen.”

Sokka arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean that’s supposed to happen?”

“This must be from our side…” Tenzin continued before taking a deep breath.

The monk invited them to sit down, which they did. The next words out of his mouth made no sense.

“It’s been over 170 years since the Fire Nation started the war. You’ve somehow been brought seventy-two years into the future.”

The room was very quiet after that. It slowly in a strange way started to make sense.

Cities were only bright like the one outside if they were on fire. But to Katara’s wide, disbelieving eyes the city outside was intact. There are now airbenders free on their own island. Even Aang had his own larger than life monument.

Does that mean…?

“That’s impossible!!” Sokka squawked. Aang was still at a loss for words. But Katara had one last question.

“So Aang wins the war. The Fire Nation wouldn’t allow this city to still stand if they won, and this city can’t be Fire Nation— there’s airbenders here, ” she said.

Tenzin nodded.

“How is he supposed to do that if we’re stuck here?” Sokka questioned. Tenzin grimaced and shuffled the remaining scrolls from the oak desk into a drawer.

“I don’t know, but I will find a way for you three to return home. In the meantime, you will be guests of the Air Nomads here. Now is there any chance anyone else could have… uh… traveled with you to our time?”

Aang and Katara replied no, but Sokka posed another question that made the Master Airbender across from them blanch.

“Guys, when was the last time we ran into Zuko?”

Zuko had been spending more time in his quarters than usual. Uncle was already on to him. He’d been onto him when Zuko returned to the Wani in the morning wanting to do nothing but sleep.

It was three days later, and Zuko still felt like hiding out in a dark room. His head hurt, light bothered him, and there was an obnoxious ringing in his ear. His forehead boasted a nasty bruise too.

Uncle brought him ginseng tea, worried looks, and a quiet waver in every conversation. Zuko would take a nasty headache over a worried Uncle, but it looks like his Blue Spirit stunt gave him both.

“You just need to rest, Zuko. Then you can tell me what happened.”

“Mm’ fine, Uncle. Just tired.” The old lie came out easily.  

Uncle Iroh frowned but didn’t say anything. “When we reach port we can find a doctor. I’ll tell the helmsman to course-correct,” his uncle said in a tone Zuko knew was final. Though he couldn’t turn up to port with a head injury when the “Blue Spirit” was documented to have been knocked out. Zhao would have put such a crucial detail in the wanted posters.

Zuko forced himself to sit up. “Uncle, don’t do that. Please . If Zhao—” The Dragon of the West raised an eyebrow. Zuko realized he’d been caught.

“I couldn’t let my only chance at going home slip away,” he mumbled, gripping the thin covers.  Iroh only sighed. He seemed to want to reach for Zuko’s hand but decided against it at the last moment.

“Get some rest, Prince Zuko…I won’t have us dock.”

Zuko fell into a fitful sleep.

It wasn’t for long. 

“Zuko! Wake up, Zuko. You need to see this!”

Zuko opened his eyes to realize his uncle already lit a few candles in his room and was kneeling next to his bedside. Zuko forced himself to sit up again. He was relieved at least that he could feel the boat was still moving at full speed.

“Isn’t it the middle of the night?” he asked, trying to reorient himself in the room. His uncle’s hair was loose, but there was no tea in his hands.

“You need to come on deck, nephew. I’ll help you up,” Iroh offered but Zuko brushed the hand away. He could get up by himself.

He did manage it, but his Uncle steadied his shoulders once as Zuko lumbered to the chest holding his armor.

“Zuko, no, we need to get on deck,” his uncle stressed. Zuko shook his head.

“If I have to appear in front of the crew I’m not doing it in my nightclothes,” he fired back, feeling already overexposed by the pain in his head. He could have just put on something similar, but Uncle never woke him up in the middle of the night for no reason. He would meet whatever challenge that was impeding him on his quest to find the Avatar, concussed or not.

Iroh wordlessly helped Zuko get into the set that was still a little too big for him.

At least it was light, yet strong. The leather was always broken-in too.  Zuko never mentioned it to Uncle, but he had a pretty good idea where the sets came from.

Uncle— who was still in his nightclothes— didn’t steer him towards the bridge, but rather to the bow of the ship where the entire crew had congregated on the railing. The cook, short in stature, was shoving his crewmates aside desperate for a look. Ensign Uwir looked pale and nauseous, sitting on a supply crate while Lieutenant Jee awkwardly switched from looking up into the sky and down trying to reassure his comrade.

That was the first thing he saw descending the ship’s tower.

The impulse to shout orders and keep Ensign Uwir from making a mess on his deck died on his tongue. The second thing Zuko saw was how bright everything was. He wouldn’t need a palm of flame to keep himself from tripping over rope, crates, or anything else that managed to take up deck space.

The third thing that came rapidly after the crew and light was the latter’s source. The crew parted for him at a muffled suggestion from Uncle, and Zuko had a straight sightline for a sea of towers, all taller than the Fire Nation Royal Palace. All gleaming soft yellows and oranges, the beacons that twinkled all this light into a foggy sky betrayed a city whose sheer scale was one Zuko had never seen. 

He kept his eyes on them, concussion forcibly ignored in favor of the heavens having visited the earth.

“Where are we?” he asked at last. His ship had been near Cranefish Village, a colonial clustering of people trying to make ends meet in a forgotten port town. Technically it was his favorite port, but that was because Cranefish Village was so small that Uncle couldn’t wander off too far while shopping. But this—

This wasn’t Cranefish Village.

Uncle took a breath. “I have no idea.”

“Are we dead,” whispered Second Engineer Tanaka.

In any other situation, Zuko would have snapped that was preposterous, but for once he looked the other way concerning Second Engineer Tanaka’s terrible superstitions. He may have wondered a similar thought.

The first man of the boat to pull himself out of the stupor wasn’t Zuko or even Iroh.

Lieutenant Jee appeared at his side, and Zuko distantly remembered he had just been with Ensign Uwir who looked like he was going to ruin his deck for the evening. Zuko couldn’t bring himself to care if Ensign Uwir did it now.

“Sir, should we dock?” the man asked.

“How’s our coal supplies?” Uncle Iroh talked over his shoulder. Zuko already knew the answer. Low. He had asked Uncle to not dock, and now they would have to negotiate for coal in this strange city because his actions forced them away from ports.

Jee confirmed his fears, and Zuko eventually ordered him to dock which they only managed by trailing another seacraft. Finally, a few guiding boats customary for massive ports like Ba Sing Se and Caldera accompanied them until the Wani was safely anchored at port.

Zuko had no time to consider his next move because there was already a docking agent waiting for them. That had never happened before! Usually, Zuko had to send Lieutenant Jee on some wild goose-goat chase to get their supply requests approved.

The crew released the ship’s entrance ramp, and the docking officer deigned to board his ship.

“Wow! That’s an antique one you all ridin’ or what!?” the officer exclaimed after he stomped his boots on Zuko’s deck like it was a fake warship or something. It was a move that reminded Zuko of the paranoid shopkeepers who believed his gold was fake off the bat.  

“We’re here for coal and supplies.” 

The dock official only laughed at the firstborn of Firelord Ozai, who was staring so hard at him that he might burn through his wire thin mustache. Zuko has never gotten this reaction before. Usually, people cowered and acquiesceed or coyly insulted him like “Admiral” Zhao did.

“Coal? Oh, this is an oldie! What is it? Sozin’s era?” the official asked earnestly. “Are you from the Caldera Military Museum or something? Founders’ Week is coming up, but we don’t have your ship down as expected…”

What was this bumbling idiot talking about? All Fire Nation ships ran on coal. Zuko was about to reiterate their very normal request with the added force that they were an auxiliary to the Fire Nation Navy when Uncle intervened.

“These are our dock papers, and since as you astutely pointed out this is an older model. We appreciate your help with our request,” Uncle said in the voice that made people underestimate him.

The officer glanced at their papers, the same ones they handed out at every port since the beginning of his exile. Both his eyebrows crawled up to his receding hairline. “These aren’t legitimate docking papers—”

“Excuse—”

Zuko was rudely cut off before he got to put this man in his place.

“We are happy to parley with your port authority, but in the meantime, could you send this old man a physician? My back aches worse and worse each day,” Iroh faked a hunch in the middle of his statement. What was Uncle on about? He didn’t have back pain as far as Zuko knew.

That’s not something Uncle would have hidden, right?  

The official looked them all over –the crew were in various states of disgruntled, annoyed, and scared—but in the end he agreed to get his boss in contact and send for a medic.

Iroh and Zuko waited in the ship’s paltry medical bay until the medic arrived. They barely exchanged words as time ticked.  Zuko has never seen Uncle rendered proverb-less. The man just looked at Zuko from the corner of his eye and then back to the door.

“You don’t have back pain, Uncle,” Zuko accused.

Iroh gave him a light smile. “Prince Zuko, when you reach my age there’s a lot of things you will have.”

He’s almost relieved the medic arrived. Then Uncle would have to talk and be Uncle-esque again.

The medic was young. That didn’t surprise Zuko, what surprised him was that there was a waterbender medic in a Fire Nation colonial town. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised considering Cranefish Village had turned into a city that was larger than Caldera, but it was uncanny there was a waterbender who wasn’t trying to drown him on dry land.

“I am only in training, but I can easily soothe a sore back,” the medic said confidently. Iroh put on a genial smile. Then the surprise came.

“I am thankful for your service, but my nephew needs your help too. You see, our deck was recently waxed, and he took a bad fall. You know kids and how eager they can be.”

Zuko gave Uncle a glare. He did not slip on freshly waxed decks, he was not a kid, and he was not going to let a medic he didn’t know anywhere near his head! The medic seemingly didn’t read the room and instructed Zuko to remove his helmet.

Of course, now Uncle could stand without hunching over.

“I’ll be right here,” his uncle assured him like he was a child, and Zuko would have snapped at him if the room’s lighting weren’t so harsh, if the sound of his own voice didn’t reverberate in his skull, if the boat stopped swaying so.

“Fine,” he said. The faster he could get rid of this concussion the better. (And maybe having Uncle stand close made the unknown medic less intimidating.)

After Zuko took off the face grate and then the entire helmet itself, the waterbender was taken aback. Zuko didn’t know if it was the scar or the bruising, but he was used to stares, gasps, and grimaces.

What he really wasn’t used to was answering questions about it from strangers.

“This…this is all from a boat deck slip?”

“Are you going to heal it or not!?” Zuko snapped and leaned forward. The medic only gave a quick nod and began with trembling hands. Zuko’s eyes flashed to his Uncle who only gave a subtle nod. Uncle had his back lest this medic do anything outside of what he was prescribed to do.

He didn’t expect the healing water to feel cool, but at least the ache had subsided, and the light from the room’s fire finally stopped being an affront to his eyes.  

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

Zuko narrowed his eyes, and his intensity got the medic back to their job.

The medic cleared his throat. “The healing process has been greatly sped along. To make a full recovery though, you still need plenty of bedrest.”

Uncle thanked the medic and had them go along their way with Jee who presumably stood outside the door the entire time. Zuko too stood up only to be told to sit back down.

“What about the coal?”

“I’ll handle the docksman. A man needs his rest, especially one who is in recovery,” Iroh said more firmly than usual. Last time he pulled that tone on Zuko was when he returned from Roku’s Temple covered in ash. Zuko had to tell Uncle everything that transpired.  

Zuko knew this was a rare moment he wasn’t getting his way.

“How much longer till the papers get approved,” he grumbled. They needed supplies and then…Zuko didn’t know what to do after that. His entire plan for three years was the Avatar, but now this great colossus of a city materialized right in front of his boat, and they were treated as a novelty item by the port.  

Iroh pointed to the cot. The teenager obeyed.

For now. 

“Did Firelo- Prince Zuko follow you here. Did you see him?”

“We didn’t see him,” Katara trailed off. Sokka, for his part, rolled his eyes.

“When has he not followed us? There’s three facts of life for this trip: we get sidetracked, Appa needs his toes cleaned far too often, and Zuko always manages to be there!”

Aang snickered at the Appa mention but had to agree with Sokka that Zuko always seemed to catch up— even if a Fire Nation stronghold stood in his way. Aang hadn’t told Katara and Sokka about the Blue Spirit’s identity yet, and he figured that particular fact wouldn’t help Sokka calm down.

Tenzin rubbed his eyes for the second time in the conversation. “Does he still have the boat?”

The three children nodded. Tenzin let out a loud sigh.

“If we’re lucky, he’s not here in this timeline. I’m not sure what to do with him.”

“Wind current!” Sokka exclaimed. He configured his hands the way he saw Aang did when airbending.

The idea of fighting Zuko seemed to only bring the older airbender distress.

“There’s going to be no fighting. I don’t know how exactly to word this but you three must stay with me. The world is different from what you’re used to.”

Aang was close to saying he wasn’t used to the world he woke up in anyways. By the time he’d been broken out of the iceberg in the Southern Water Tribe, the Fire Nation had morphed into something he and Kuzon didn’t recognize– a version that was determined to subjugate the entire world.

“Do you expect to sit down and talk with him?” Katara said, voice sarcastic.

“He is reasonable-”

Both the siblings scoffed.

“He can be reasoned with,” Tenzin corrected.

How did Tenzin know seemingly more than them about Zuko? Unless there was a Zuko in this future time too? Did they know each other? Know of each other?

Regardless, there is something in the future that makes Tenzin not want to fight Prince Zuko. Assuming that the airbender and the firebender do somehow both exist in this future time.

Hours after Pohuai, Zuko had firebent before Aang could continue talking to him, but Aang did want to ask about the Fire Nation, ask Zuko why he was chasing him, and try to understand the person who went against his country and his own past actions to break him out.

Judging from Tenzin’s insistence on the talking approach even after Sokka offered to detail all of Zuko’s capture attempts, Aang was starting to piece things together.

Aang had wanted to ask Zuko lots of things, but he picked “could we be friends” first for a reason. It was the most pressing question on his mind then and it returned now, strengthened by Tenzin’s lukewarm attitude on the Fire Prince.

“Does Zuko stop chasing us in the future?”

Katara and Sokka were a storm of confused, baffled noise, and through it Aang could see Tenzin’s face slip. Aang seized on it. Even if he couldn’t tell what Tenzin’s expression meant, he had gleaned that Zuko prompted a big reaction. They were either friends or enemies.

“Aang! He’s from the Fire Nation!”

He shrugged. “A hundred years ago I had a friend from the Fire Nation.”

“That was a hundred years ago,” Katara’s soft words countered.

Tenzin hadn’t said anything. Inside Aang’s heart there was a flicker of hope. If they were friends with Zuko in this time, then maybe the peaceful Fire Nation Aang remembered from a hundred years ago could return too. The world Aang lost: maybe it could be rebuilt.

“Are you going to tell me?” Aang pressed.

Tenzin truly looked torn.

“…I have encountered many fantastic things in my life, but not time travel. What if telling you about the future changes it?”

“I hate to break it to you,” Sokka interrupted, “But, you already told us the Fire Nation loses big time.” Aang agreed. The biggest change from Sokka and Katara’s time had already been revealed to them. The incandescent city they found themselves glowed and grew in a peaceful world.

A world where he is the Avatar everyone wanted him to be. Aang couldn’t help but feel the heavy reality of Avatar descend upon him again. He wouldn’t be able to stay at this Air Temple with Tenzin who now looked at all three of them with an unexplained fondness.

“Let me get you three settled in for tonight. I-” Tenzin stood. His voice lowered. “I promise to you, Avatar Aang, Master Katara, and Chieftain Sokka that you will return to your world.”   

In that moment, Tenzin is more monument than man, resembling the wise, weathered statues of the sages lining Gyatso’s gardens. As desperately as he wanted to beg for knowledge of the future, Aang found himself shushing Sokka who had wanted to protest.

Aang, despite knowing Tenzin for less than an hour trusted him, trusted the look in his eye that reminded him of Monk Gyatso, his lifelong mentor.

Gyatso had always looked at him like Tenzin did now. Aang was the monk’s family in all but blood. Aang still took every second of the group’s walk to the dormitories to take in Tenzin's face.

The room Tenzin gave them was on the hallway that jutted off from the lavish tiled foyer. Sokka immediately flopped on the closest bed, covered in a lush blue comforter.

“Katara! Did you hear him!” Sokka’s voice was muffled by the comforter he wouldn’t rise his head from. “I become chief!”  

His sister gave him a roll of her eyes, but there was no malice. “Well, chieftain or not, you’re still giving Appa his bath tomorrow. It’s your turn.”

“B-But!”

She crossed her arms. “Sorry, something to say to the Master Waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe?” Warm pride was in every word.

Sokka deigned to lift his head, so his words came out properly. He turned to Aang who was looking out the window. “Hey, Avatar, a little backup here! Katara isn’t respecting my chiefly authority.”

“I think I’m related to Tenzin,” Aang said instead. The revelation, heavy and pivotal to their time here, crushed Sokka and Katara’s squabble.  

Sokka squinted, and Katara gave a slow nod. 

“But we’re all important to him. The way he looked at us reminded me of how Monk Gyatso treated me, like family.”

Katara beat him to it, taking their hands in hers, connecting them all. “I wasn’t kidding when I said we were your family now.” Blue eyes met his, and Sokka gave his hand a squeeze.

A soft “thanks” was all Aang could manage before he was enveloped in a group hug.

“Future stuff or not, there’s no one I’d rather be stuck with,” Sokka quipped, and Aang hugged them both just a little bit tighter. The end of the war sounded like a beautiful thing, daunting, but beautiful.

But what was the most important, the most beautiful, was that Aang did have a family. And in the future, the family he has grown. Aang’s eyes teared at the thought of Gyatso seeing him now with Katara and Sokka, seeing the war end, seeing Tenzin. Seeing more airbenders . 

Aang let the tears fall, free.

Chapter Text

Zuko’s plan was simple: wait for Uncle to inevitably leave to argue with the port authority, and then waltz off the ship and track down the location of the coaling stations. It would leave Uncle plenty of time to work on the port authority, and Zuko would finally be able to learn where they were and track down some coal.

Part of him feared they had sailed into the Fire Nation— probably the reason Uncle wouldn’t let him leave the ship— but there was no way he was staying in his cabin when he lacked both fuel in his ship and any substantial understanding about where they were. He had to find the Avatar, not sit and wonder and waste time.

Yes, the docking agents (if they didn’t give his Uncle a hard time, and that was seemingly a big if) would help them get restocked, but Zuko had not come this far by waiting on and trusting others.

When he found the coal refueling station (that was a when) it would corroborate if the docking authority were trustworthy based on if they also pointed Uncle in the right direction.

With his mind resolved, Zuko waited a painful thirty minutes out by pacing rather loudly until he decided it was long enough. Helmet on his head, and swords strapped to his side (He was not taking chances out there— besides if Zhao was miraculously in the area, Zuko could still stash the swords somewhere and then return for them later) he walked on deck to the surprise of the crew.

“Sir!” Lieutenant Jee and two other officers jumped at attention. The new appearance of Cranefish Village had made the crew jumpy, it seemed. “The general informed us that you would be resting the rest of the night.”

Zuko shook his head. “I’m getting coal. I don’t trust the port authority or anything about this place. You and the crew watch this ship. It does not move unless under my orders.”

“Sir, the general said—”

“You have your orders, Lieutenant,” he said, already standing at the exit, expecting his men to lower it.

If it were another situation, Jee might further argue with him, but the new situation had left him and the rest of the crew mollified. Giant cities appearing out of nowhere tended to have that effect. Zuko was going to get them coal so they could leave the strange giant city, so the gangplank was lowered without further argument.

 Zuko stepped onto the foggy docks alone.

He thought he heard a “good luck” shouted from the deck of the Wani, but it must have been the wind. It wasn’t the time to start imagining goodwill from the crew of all groups.

At this hour despite the brilliance of the lights the docks were sparsely populated besides drunk sailors –in multicolored uniforms Zuko couldn’t recognize as belonging to any nation— stumbling down the docks.

At least they left Zuko alone. Usually, in Fire Nation armor, Zuko received hostile glares or fearful bows in the colonies. This was the first time in a long time he was given zero mind.

Probably the alcohol, he reasoned.

To the east was a complex of buildings that resembled a docking authority. Zuko regretted not checking the bridge before he left to double check the maps, but Uncle was sure this was Cranefish Village, they were on course for it, and the geography lined up from what they could make out.

Oddly enough, the Wani was parked next to passenger ships? No, it seemed the ships next to them had trebuchets – so they couldn’t be civilian craft– yet flew a flag he couldn’t identify. The Fire Nation was a proud one, and Zuko could recognize her flags in a heartbeat. They were the only Fire Nation ship in this section of the harbor.

What was going on? This was a Fire Nation colony, or it was supposed to be…

Picking up his pace, Zuko passed shipping lane after shipping lane. Where was the coal dust? The stuff always caked the docks where the ships were refueled. All these cranes and no coal dust? All this infrastructure and no coaling station? He had almost reached the end of the pier, and there was nothing.

Maybe they were in cargo docks? Lieutenant Jee wouldn’t have parked them in the cargo docks though, and there were no cargo ships around. Besides, Cranefish Village had only one dock with only one re-coaling station, yet this strange place seemingly had none?

Zuko thought about surprising his uncle at the docking authority empty handed, but no, he was going to find something substantial to help the ship even if it took him all night. The coaling station had to be nearby. He just needed to look a little further. 

A hundred meters before the end of the pier, he stopped his aimless wandering to think. When observing your surroundings, Prince Zuko, you must look with intent , he could hear his uncle’s voice instructing from the back of his mind. 

All coaling stations Zuko had the misfortune of visiting were filthy because of the coal dust, so most sensible ports kept coaling stations away from the general harbor. He just had to look for the jet-black dust that liked to coat everything, and then he would have what the warships parked next to them had: coal, supplies, maybe even maintenance. (Once, Zuko found that dust inside his sock, to Uncle Iroh’s loud amusement. His sock! He had no idea how he even got coal dust inside his boot, let alone fiercely embedded in that cloth.)  

The issue was that the docks, while damp and very much smelling like saltwater docks, had no trace of the substance. He stepped towards the dock’s edge, peering at no warship in particular. His eyes scanned hulls, railings, and moorings, but they were all mysteriously clean— as if the ships hadn’t received coal in months.

When he exhaled,  his breath came out mixed with a little smoke.

It was too early to get frustrated, but this place was impossible! How did these captains run their warships without coal?

Maybe he could ask a sailor?

Seeing one drunkenly dance only a few parked ships away, Zuko found himself running. His sudden arrival shook the man out of his stupor, and the sailor held his hands to his face.

“Please don’t turn me in! Not again! The general’s gonna kill me.” the man croaked out in between a hiccup.

“I’m not going to turn you in!” This man was more intoxicated than Zuko thought. Sailors didn’t report to generals; they reported to admirals.  “Just tell me where the re-coaling station is,” Zuko demanded.

The arms were lowered and the man in blue looked at him. “Re-Coaling?? No ship in the world has coal .”

Wordlessly, he shoved past him.

“Wait! You-! I think you look familiar!”  

Zuko stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn around.  That was the second comment this evening about “knowing him from somewhere.” Usually, the upper brass of the Navy recognized him, but commoners took him to be a soldier (or a child dressing up as one.) People didn’t just half know Zuko. It was either Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation or Sir. (One woman his mother’s age called him “war child,” told him to “go home,” begged him to understand “this isn’t your place.”)

“I know!! I saw armor like yours in a mover!”

Nevermind, it was another drunk waste of his time. He picked up his pace again. Of course, the Fire Nation armor was recognizable…the navy patrolled the entire world! Zuko hoped his crew never stumbled upon whatever brew this sailor had gotten into.

Besides, what was a “mover?”

The only problem was that Zuko ran into several more sailors (two didn’t even seem drunk) who insisted there was no coaling station and asked what he drank. Zuko had redirected the question right back at them to only receive strange looks.

The sailors were useless, but Zuko was starting to wonder… a city of ever-lit towers shrouded in fog sounded like a spirit tale. Maybe he shouldn’t have separated from Uncle. He knew about spirit stuff far better than Zuko did.

At the start of almost every spirit tale, the protagonist seemed to anger the spirits launching them into the plot, but Zuko hadn’t angered any spirits. He meditated upon Agni’s light every morning and was on a quest to spread his nation’s greatness by capturing the Avatar.

Besides, Uncle Iroh wouldn’t allow him to disrespect the spirits to the extent of angering them into a plot of a spirit tale …

The Avatar was a bridge to the spirits but that didn’t mean the airbender was a spirit… the Fire Sages preached that the spirits supported the Fire Nation by rewarding their military with success… Zuko was acting on the side of the Fire Nation; therefore, he wasn’t disrespecting the spirits…

Though a few days ago he dressed up as one and then broke the Avatar out of Fire Nation custody…

Oh no , Zuko had angered the spirits.

Wouldn’t Uncle tell him though? He had oddly been at peace with Zuko freeing the Avatar, only preoccupied with the injuries he’d picked up along the way.

This wasn’t making sense, and Zuko didn’t feel like thinking himself into a headache so soon after getting the last ones cleared up. Uncle was with the dock authorities, and he was supposed to find coal.

Coal. That was simple. It was plentiful in the colonies– he just had to find one non-inebriated person to tell him where it was.

President Raiko, with grave hesitation, removed an adjective from his speech he planned to surprise the protesters with tomorrow.

Every word counted.

Already he had a stroke in fortune in the evening papers. They were all fixated on a strange solar storm that overtook the twilight skyline of the city for only an hour. A spiritual sign , some reported, a freak of nature , others countered. It didn’t matter to Raiko what it truly was.

If it was just a storm, then it served him in taking some editorial pressure off his case. 

If it was something spiritual, then it was an opportunity. Unlike the nasty vines that still blanketed half of his city, perhaps this was something Raiko could be seen as fixing . With Korra in the Southern Pole stuck recovering, and “Master” Tenzin busy with his new nation: it was Raiko’s time.

But for now, he has to focus on the real, the tangible: the words he will say tomorrow to the hostile crowds. That would happen no matter what. He returned to mulling over the adjective he had scratched out: prosperous. That’s what he would make this land, yet he used it twice in the speech already.

How much could one hammer a truth into the mind until it was labeled as repetitive instead of revelatory?

There was a hammering at his door, and Raiko was taken from his speech, his element, to beckon them to enter. There was only one person who would demand to enter the president’s study at the hour before midnight.

His assistant, Hsin, stepped in and nearly slammed the door behind him. Raiko prepared himself for big news.

“The lights, sir! There are signs coming in from across the world.” Raiko leaned in at the words.

The assistant breathed in and out. “The avatar statues in the temples lit up.” The president was on his feet. Could it be true? Could he be so fortunate? The temple statues of the Avatar lit up when only one thing happened: a new Avatar. He could stage Korra’s funeral, publicly mourn, and reduce the nation to tears, in the process building himself up.

Hsin caught Raiko’s grin cracking across his face and shook his head. “Sir, there’s already White Lotus reports confirming Avatar Korra is recovering well at the South Pole. I think– if you permit me to speak freely—”

“Granted.”

“I think there’s two Avatars. The White Lotus are certain Avatar Korra is fine despite all the evidence pointing to the contrary.”

“That’s impossible,” Raiko marveled. Still, his grin couldn’t be stopped. A second Avatar? He can ride the confusion this news will generate to survive the referendum. A miracle was staring him in the face. Raiko would seize it.

“Publicize everything,” he ordered. “I mean it. I want the entire world to know in tomorrow morning’s paper. And get my honor guard in plain clothes on the streets this instant. We must be the first to receive and interpret these signs .”

“But you need the honor guard to protect you tomorrow for the protest. They’ll be exhausted—” Hsin stopped talking after Raiko raised his hand.

“You think I care about the protest?” Raiko lifted the speech he had been fine-tuning for the past hours and brought it up close to Hsin’s face so the other man could read it. Then he pulled, and the paper frayed and tore apart revealing his face on the other side of the divide.

Hsin didn’t take a step back.

“This is far bigger than the stupid protest, Hsin.” He bunched the man’s tie in his hand.  This is our miracle.”

General Iroh of the United Forces was fast asleep when his emergency line rang which led to a very dignified, “... ‘ello?”

“General Iroh we have a situation.” Master Tenzin was on the line. Iroh blearily threw off the covers and sat up. Tenzin calling past ten o clock on a non-holiday was bad news indeed.

“General Iroh, at your service,” he reported trying to mold his voice into one that hadn’t been fast asleep less than a minute ago.

“This is the highest level of confidentiality. Take only your most trustworthy men.” Now Iroh’s mind was racing. If Republic City were under attack, it would have been a widespread mobilization. Was it the Red Lotus? Kuvira? If so, he’d have to get his mother and grandfather on the line as fast as possible—

“Frankly I don’t know how to describe this,” Tenzin took a breath on the other line. Iroh tried to make himself relax. If it was a true Republic City emergency it would be Raiko calling him. Or Chief Beifong.

“I think my dad came back from the dead.”

“I’m sorry, I misheard you, Master Tenzin,” Iroh said instead of unraveling into questions. Avatar Aang back from the dead? He was the Avatar, so yes strange things were bound to happen but resurrection when Avatar Korra was very much alive— recuperating in the South Pole last he checked— was impossible.

He lit the bedside candle with a fingertip and waited through Tenzin’s long pause.

“The statues lit up, Iroh.”

“Is Avatar Korra—” Iroh II interrupted.

“No, no she’s still alive and uninjured. I just received a telegram from the White Lotus concerning her.” Tenzin saved Iroh from a burgeoning crisis. 

“That’s not all,” Tenzin continued. “My mother is here as a fourteen-year-old. My uncle is here too at fifteen. I’m not sure it’s related to the Avatar Cycle at all. It’s something from the spirits- it must be, else I don’t have an explanation for it.”

Iroh found himself in the rare moment where he was at a loss for words.

“What do they remember?” he asked, feeling equal parts in awe and confused.

“M-Katara and Uncle Sokka say they remember a typhoon and falling ill while Aang remembers the Pohuai breakout. I’ll be taking care of them at Air Temple Island, but we have reason to suspect they’re not the only ones returning.”

Iroh’s breath held. If Master Tenzin was calling him of all people… he couldn’t mean…

“I need you out in the docks tonight looking for the Wani and her captain. Now, Iroh, he will be very different from the man you know, considering they seem to be coming from seventy years ago.”

Iroh swallowed before speaking again. “Should I call my mother? She would want to be involved in this.”

“I’m keeping this between the smallest group possible, which means me and Pema, you, and Chief Beifong. If this got out…”

Raiko . Iroh felt the air temperature rise. He knew how that man operated. Everything and anything was an opportunity for him.

It was a month until Iroh II would hopefully never have to deal with the president again. Master Tenzin had called for a referendum of no confidence against the president because of how he treated Avatar Korra before and during the Red Lotus crisis, and with the man’s incursion against the impoverished residents of the Dragon Flats, it had been looking like Raiko’s political career was over.

Until this evening that was.

“I understand. And President Raiko?” Iroh tried to keep his disdain hidden in questioning how they would hide such a change from a world leader. Raiko could become a problem for him personally. His chief officer would be suspicious of his liberal usage of patrol in the harbor if Iroh failed to report it.

“Raiko is a known variable. We must find and shelter everyone else from that timeline first else they’ll be Raiko’s.” The message was clear. Angering Raiko was worth the risk Iroh would have to take.  

“Noted. I’ll gather a few ships and my most trusted captains. If the Wani is there, do you wish for us to escort her to Air Temple Island?”

Tenzin went quiet again as Iroh racked his brain on what he would do with the famous ship .

“No, escort the ship herself to Yu Dao where it could be passed off as a historical piece. The crew is small, keep them with the ship if you can. If we’re lucky, they won’t want to part with her anyways.”

Iroh affirmed that he’d try. He’d have to station his own men with the ship for its voyage to Yu Dao to keep grandfather’s crew…in line.

“Bring your… relatives to Air Temple Island though. I have a feeling this has to do with all of them together— the original Team Avatar.”

“I’ll see to it. I’ll call you after I’ve found the ship.”

And thus concluded the strangest phone call of Iroh’s life so far.

It took Iroh II half an hour to throw on his uniform (unpressed and wrinkled) and summon three ships stocked with his best captains (all who matched Iroh in looking disheveled) to patrol Yue Bay looking for “any Fire Nation ship from the Late Hundred Year War Period.” No need to tell them much further than that.

Now what Iroh really needed was for the Wani to show up either that night or not at all.

Standing in his command center on his flagship, Iroh had taken up scanning every ship in the bay for the hallmarks of war period Fire Nation ships. Unfortunately, identifying such features was proving harder than he’d anticipated. Visibility was poor– it was past midnight in a harbor that had only a lighthouse and a skyline to illuminate the harbor’s entire waterfront. 

“Sir, what are we actually looking for?” his second in command for the night, Captain Opik, questioned.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Captain. Just keep an eye out for any imperial era Fire Nation ship. We have orders to give accommodation to her crew and escort her to Yu Dao for repairs.”

His second in command wisely didn’t say anything, but Iroh could feel the heavy question of “at midnight?” settle.

Then the ship bell rang. Iroh forgot himself in rushing to where the lookout had shone the light. In between two United Forces ships was a Fire Nation Commander Class-Hachi bearing the correct standard, his family’s standard.

“That sure is an old ship,” someone muttered.

Iroh’s hands felt clammy on the railing. Tenzin was right. The Wani, not sunk and very real, was right in front of him. He took a breath to steady himself.

“Box them in, she’s a slippery ship, ensure she doesn’t leave the bay,” Iroh found himself ordering as the officers of the command deck hurried around him to coordinate with the other ships. He didn’t want to resort to trapping them, but if the tales were true then his grandfather had one of the fastest ships of its time.

 (Grandfather always gave the same answer to Iroh’s questions pertaining to the modification of the Wani ’s engine system because how else would such an old ship outpace Zhao’s fleet back then?

“Regulations are there for a reason, Iroh.”)

“Captain Opik, prepare a boarding party. No lethal force. No exception.” Iroh tried to not think of it like all the hostile boardings he has done across his career. He was doing this for Tenzin, and if Tenzin was correct then he was doing this for his family too.

After all these years of being in the United Forces, getting involved in Royal Fire Family affairs almost felt foreign. He left Caldera to be away from it all—to be his own man. Just his luck that actual time travel has him getting involved again. His mother, the Firelord, would be pleased.

The captain saluted him, and all Iroh— feeling almost like a crown prince again— could do for that moment was wait.

 Zuko half-walked-half-ran from the docks and its storage buildings. The layout of this strange iteration of Cranefish Village was as complicated as Caldera’s was from the little Zuko got to really see. Far bigger and more interconnected than even Yu Dao’s.

Pushing forward, buildings began to encroach on the usual docking scenery – dotted with lights inside and out, it was a shanty town of sorts. Finally, something Zuko recognized and didn’t find out of place (even though Cranefish Village wasn’t big enough to sprawl into shanty towns).

The familiarity did not last long.

On the road, instead of komodo rhinos, litters, or even an ostrich horse, were these small tanks, but they had windows and sat on carriage wheels.

They even made this shrill honking sound at him when Zuko was walking in the road where he had always walked.

After being at the receiving end of the miniature tanks’ warning sounds for four separate instances, Zuko went to the edge of the street where everyone else who was out this late had taken to treading.

The colonies had normal roads last time he checked.

The street he was on catered to sailors. Bars and taverns were loudly in full swing, people chewed their tobacco, some glared at him. Zuko thought he spotted children, younger than Azula had been when he left, peering out of a window – their eyes following him down the street.

Zuko, who was used to stares from anonymous passersby, shifted his eyes to the ground. It was his scar. It was always the scar. He grimaced, forcing himself to forget the phantom pain needling underneath his left eye, and carried on down the busy street. The cobblestone side path was filthy, but in that filth was a newspaper stained and soiled.

He peeled it off the street without a second thought. Time to finally figure out where they were.

His eye took a sweep of the front page – “The Republic City Morning Gazette: RAIKO’S APPROVAL TANKS AFTER DRAGON FLAT DEMOLITION PLANS UNVEILED.”

There was no Republic City. His memory didn’t provide anything, and Zuko had scoured maps for hours over the last three years. There was no Republic City. That name didn’t even follow Fire Nation colonial naming conventions.

Something else far more damning was near the headline.

The 14th day of the first month of 172 AG. 

172 AG–

Not 100 AG, but seventy-two years after yesterday.

The noises of taverns and revelry continued regardless of the horrifying news so plainly printed upon the pages he held.

Zuko was at a loss for the first time in three long, frustrating years.

It was always: search for the Avatar, capture him, bring him home to Father, and then Zuko could finally reclaim his rightful place as Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. – everything was a small step or task leading up to that. A prison break to keep him out of Zhao’s clutches. Firebending to grow stronger. Coal to keep his ship chasing.

How was this even possible ? Zuko held his head in his hands not caring if the foot traffic shot him dirty looks. He was seventy years in the future: the place he had found himself in was unlike anywhere he has ever traveled. 

Zuko hadn't seen home in three years and now he was never going to see it! He had no idea how he got here, and he had no idea how to get back!  Despair threatened to turn the stinging sensation in his eyes into tears that no man of his station and lineage should let fall. But now he was seventy-two years behind everyone. Zhao would be the one to capture the Avatar. Zuko would never be able to return home. Who cared if the banished prince of the fire nation cried in the street at this point! 

The pungent smell of smoke pulled him from the spiral as he realized he had set the paper on fire. He wrestled for control over the flames, snuffed them out, and quickly dried his eyes with the back of his smoldering hand.

Part of him wanted to run back to his ship and command it to sail due West to home- coal supply problem be damned- and part of him wanted to find Uncle and have him explain everything in his meddling proverbs.

Zuko frowned. Uncle… Uncle was with the port authority! The port authority wouldn’t give them supplies based on docking papers over seventy years out of date. The protocol of the Fire Navy was to throw out any ship lacking proper paperwork. They’d be lucky to be able to spend twenty-four hours at the dock, if not forcefully evicted.  Zuko had to find them coal if they wanted to get beyond the bay, and he had to find it fast .

But then again, Uncle was the Dragon of the West. A master negotiator able to buy them time. Zuko just had to find coal. Uncle would sort the rest. That was the plan before he scraped a disgusting newspaper from the ground.

For the rest of it, Zuko would have to pray that the Avatar remained out of the Fire Nation’s reach until he got back. 

Okay. Coal. Then Uncle.

Iroh and a squad picked by Captain Opik formed up in front of the ship’s gangplank. Already boxed in by his other ships, with him in front of the gangplank the ship was effectively surrounded.

Up close, Iroh could see all the details the models and drawings missed. The flag was frayed, there was substantial half-fixed blast damage to the engines, a turret or two was missing, and rust speckled the hull.

It was magnificent.

 Iroh secretly wanted nothing more than his camera at that moment.

“General?”

Iroh steadied himself. He had a job to finish, and he felt a prick of nervousness. He was about to meet his grandfather at sixteen before he switched sides. He took another breath in. He could do this.

“Hello? We’re here to resupply you. Could we board?” Iroh called out. Best to start off friendly.

“Yeah, try that approach after you boxed us in! Do you think us stupid?” someone on the Wani yelled.

“I’m sorry! That’s a security protocol,” Iroh lied on the spot. “How about this I leave my men on the dock, and we talk.”

There was a long pause.

“We’re not moving our ship!” The shout reverberated throughout the harbor making Iroh cringe. 

This was going to take time. The faster he could talk to someone on the Wani, the faster he could explain that he could get them coal and repairs in Yu Dao. And he could talk to his sixteen year-old grandfather who was probably looming at the top of the gangplank.

Slowly, said gangplank was lowered, and Iroh motioned for his squad to stand on the dock. Step by step he ascended the gangplank until it could be avoided no longer.

Neither his grandfather nor his great-great uncle was there. The deck was empty save for one man glaring daggers at him. 

“Well, you trapped us, might as well tell us who you are,” a man with sideburns said, body tensed for a fight.

Iroh held his hands up, “I’m here on behalf of the United Republic of Nations. You’re in Republic City, and we’re surprised you’re here, but we want to help.”

There was no response. “Are you the only sailor on board?”

Sideburns shrugged. “Guess the crew is tired, city boy.”

Maybe he should have insisted that Tenzin sent a hostile negotiations expert in his stead. He took another deliberate breath. It was four too many for only being up for two hours.

“I’m Iroh, General of the United Forces. And you are?” He noticed the soldier’s eyes widen at the mention of his great-great uncle’s name. They definitely had the right ship.

“Lieutenant Jee of the Royal Fire Navy,” Lieutenant Jee (no longer sideburns) said. Iroh offered a Fire Nation court bow low enough to say he considered Jee an equal. He hadn’t done one in years, not since he left the Fire Nation behind, but his upbringing had ensured that it had been burned into his muscle memory. Jee gave him a courtesy bow.

“Have you ever been to the Republic, Lieutenant?” Iroh started a new tactic.

“I’ve been to the colonies.”

“Well, you’re in the colonies from a certain point of view—”

Jee scoffed. “I’m a sailor, boy. I know where I am at all times. Now, kindly get your boats away from this ship, or I’m going to be in for a royal earful.” Jee said it very unkindly.

“Don’t you want fuel? I mean coal. We can get you coal, a place to sleep, and supplies.” Iroh was trying .

“General!”

Iroh swiveled around at the voice of his soldiers he left on the dock.

“General, there’s a man trying to get on the ship!”

Both Iroh and Jee rushed to the railing, and the United Forces general recognized the man from the portraits scattered across the palace and his grandfather’s desk.

A man, short in stature, dressed in old Fire Nation armor was at the bottom of the ramp. Iroh knew his face anywhere.

“It’s alright. Let him up,” Iroh II ordered, feet feeling rooted to the deck beneath him. The Dragon of the West, the Iroh he was named for, the man who saw the end of the Hundred Year War partly by his own hand — everything he, Iroh II , couldn’t compare against— was walking up the gangplank with a glare.

Iroh II realized he hadn't said anything. He was supposed to be in charge. In his defense, time travel or whatever was going on was not covered in the simulations.

“How nice of you to invite an old man onto his own ship. This Republic City of yours has very interesting customs,” the older Iroh remarked with what Iroh II would call a false smile.

“G-General Iroh, I’m here to supply you and your ship,” Iroh II repeated.

“By surrounding it?”

“I have my orders, sir.”

 In all his stories, Grandfather had described Uncle Iroh as a warm paternal figure. The man Iroh II was dealing with now was more akin to the one featured in the textbooks- a cunning, decisive military man who liberated Ba Sing Se in one evening.

“You seem to know who I am, so that leaves your introduction,” the Dragon of the West invited. Jee had taken up rank behind the man, and Iroh II was starting to very much feel how unwelcome he was on the ship.

“I’m Iroh, General of the United Forces,” Iroh re-introduced himself. He swept his eyes towards the ship’s tower waiting for the moment his grandfather would exit, and they’d finally meet like this.

Iroh II did not catch that his namesake saw the United Forces general looking around towards the ship’s tower where Zuko was supposed to be.

“Supplies? There must be a misunderstanding, general,” Iroh I cooly laid it all out. “The port assured me we would be resupplied, and now a leading figure from a foreign army wishes to take time out of his night to resupply us too? That’s awfully a lot of attention given to a mere cruiser at this hour.”

Iroh II felt very much on the backfoot. The last thing he wanted to feel was rushed, but the port authority being aware of the Wani could very easily escalate out of his and Tenzin’s control. They could go to the press or even worse: Raiko.  

Raiko, who was facing a referendum only a month from now and forecasted to lose, would seize on whatever was going on right now. Iroh II didn’t like the idea of anyone in Raiko’s manipulative clutches, but especially not confused children.

Part of him debated whether to just spill the entire truth to them. Part of him wondered, should people outside their time be told their future? Besides, would Iroh I even believe him if he told them the truth?

“I have business with your nephew!” Iroh II decided in a split second. The supply approach clearly wasn’t working, and from his grandfather’s stories it sounded like the Zuko of that time hated to have decisions made without him. If he could get his grandfather on board, his own namesake would follow.

However, Iroh II underestimated what a foreign military leader saying “I have business with your nephew” did to people’s emotions…

Chapter Text

“What is the date?”

The tavern of the future looked remarkably like those of the past, Zuko surmised. Drunk sailors, fights, games, and liquor overspilling.

The bartender raised an eyebrow, so Zuko repeated his question.

“Don’t tell my boss I said this, kids your age shouldn’t be drinking. You should go home,” she replied and returned to wiping down the bar.

The bartender looked at him again, and when she realized he wasn’t leaving, told him the same date that was printed on the new bulletin.

Zuko tried asking her where to find a coaling station next, but the bartender only looked  more and more confused as the conversation went on. She told him about how coal was old fashioned (Zuko had dealt with people calling his boat old for three years, so the comment didn’t register), but she didn’t have a definite answer.

Just when he was going to leave to find someone more suited to tell him where the station was specifically, the bartender leaned forward, and Zuko took an unconscious step back.

“You here for founder’s week and practicing?”  she asked, eyes alight with a realization he couldn’t parse.

Zuko nodded along. He had no idea what a “founder’s week” was.

“Well, you really look the part. Best costume I think I’ve ever seen and just think I’ve been part of the costume guild for decades.”

Zuko nodded again.

She must have thought he was a Fire Nation soldier…? Did the future not have those? Zuko almost scoffed. Of course, the Fire Nation had soldiers! The armor must have changed.

He gave a generic thanks and dropped a few coins on the counter before ducking out of the establishment, but not fast enough to miss her shout that he didn’t pay enough for her information.

Zuko very much wanted to go back home, and at this rate just his time period would be good enough.

Then, almost as if his wish had been heard and granted in a twisted way, the Avatar’s bison flew right over him heading straight Northwest.

Zuko started running, not caring if he couldn’t catch up on foot. The Avatar was here! Seventy-two years outside of time too! Not near Zhao or anyone else who would impede on his goal.

He was probably the only person in this “Republic City” whose mission was to capture the Avatar. He had his whole crew and Uncle too. Who would get in his way now?

Iroh, Dragon of the West, was very disoriented.

He didn’t know what to make of the city his nephew’s favorite port had twisted into, but in the span of an hour he had a water bender offer to heal Zuko and been led by the port liaison into a palanquin-sized metal box on wheels that somehow moved without the assistance of people or animals.

He could excuse a water bender being nice to his nephew and the miraculously autonomous box-carriage contraption, but nothing could explain the towers that shot into a misty sky and several people confusingly insisting that he, a very alive Prince Iroh, first son of Firelord Azulon, had been dead for several decades.

The dimly lit office with no windows cast the man opposite to him in shadow. Iroh could still make out some details though. The man seemed to be Earth Kingdom? Bright green eyes weren’t a Fire Nation trait.

“Sir, I will say you bear a striking resemblance to the Dragon of the West, but please, if you want your ship to dock, you’ll have to give me the proper paperwork.”

“Of course. Forgive an old man for having his fun,” Iroh started out. The expression of the port officer didn’t change. Awkward.

What was more awkward was that the paperwork tucked within his robes had his name, Zuko’s name, and a manifest of the entire crew. If Iroh was thought dead…in a mutated version of Cranefish Village, then what good was his paperwork?

“Which city is this again?” Iroh asked, a nervous smile on his face. Because if his papers weren’t any good (a precursor to being booted out of port if standard Fire Nation Navy protocol was still in use), Iroh at least needed to learn where they could get help.

The officer raised an eyebrow. “Sir, please drop the historical act. Everyone in the world knows this city.”

Well, that wasn’t true for Cranefish Village. When they last visited it, it boasted one coaling station, a small port town (including a theater Zuko didn’t think very highly of), and a few fishing vessels. The Wani was one of the few Fire Nation ships to make a regular stop.

What in the four nations did they sail into?

Iroh was going to have to pull another tactic. Being earnest and honest wasn’t getting him information. “I fear I have found myself a little confused. I don’t have my papers.”

The official’s face fell. Realization took over his face. “Sir, do you have someone we can contact for you? A family member or a friend?”

“Everyone I know is on my boat,” he said with a shrug and a sigh. The official raked a hand through his own thinning hair.

“How about this,” the man said in a tone intended to soothe a child, “I will get you and your… crew… provisions, but I will need to talk to someone on that ship. I don’t think you’re in the right mind, sir.”

Iroh agreed with a genial smile and began to list off the food and coal supplies the Wani would need.

“Coal?” the official balked. “I can’t secure you several cubic tons of coal?! What year do you think this is? Wait-- don’t answer that.”

“The fifth year of Firelord Ozai’s reign,” Iroh replied a little too fast.

The official dramatically bunched up the papers on his desk and pressed them to his face. “Oh, my spirits-- you really are out of it,” he muttered just loud enough that Iroh could hear. At least he thoroughly tricked the man.

“Is it not…?”

Iroh hadn’t considered something wrong with time itself, but villages do not build themselves into cities larger than the capital in a few months. Advance technology that looked like it belonged in the Fire Nation war machine didn’t suddenly spread to the colonies for civilian usage. Waterbenders did not help firebenders.

“Seventy-two years after the war’s end,” the official replied.

Iroh couldn’t disguise the anguish that flashed on his face. Over seventy years after the end of a war he saw no end of? Yes, the Avatar had returned but he was very young, untrained, and untested.

The White Lotus were scattered and unorganized. Iroh had friendships with his fellow members, but their best laid plans were shattered by the Avatar’s return.

Zuko too, well, Iroh wanted so desperately to help the boy find his own path but like his plans with the White Lotus, Iroh’s slow guidance of Zuko had all but stalled when he found the Avatar after a hundred years of absence.

But, the war had ended. Somehow, in some way, the war had ended. And in that, Iroh could find a shred of relief that quickly blanched back to worry.

The official didn’t specify who won.

His hands were braced on the desk. “Who won?” Iroh asked with a desperation that nearly overtook him.

The official grimaced. “You mean you don’t know?”

Iroh’s patience was being siphoned. “Why do you think I’m asking?”

“Okay, okay. You know—the good guys?” Iroh narrowed his eyes at the very vague answer. The official straightened up. “Avatar Aang defeated Firelord Ozai seventy-two years ago… I think it was the fifth year of Ozai’s reign? It’s… a famous event. Are you sure there’s no one we can call for you? Sir, do you know the people you’re traveling with well?”

Iroh wanted to be relieved. The Avatar managed the impossible. Nowhere in any of his best laid plans or fantasies would his brother be stopped this year .

Such jubilation was paused. What did the war ending in less than a year mean for his nephew? His nephew who was still fiercely loyal to his father, still actively chasing down the Avatar, still only saw himself as a banished prince.

Would he survive? Would he join Iroh if it came down to Zuko having to choose? Would the Avatar be forgiving if Zuko chose his family…?

“And of Prince Zuko? What happened to him?” 

“Uh, he’s Firelord Zuko, or just Lord Zuko now? He’s in the Fire Nation? Sorry, what does he have to do with any of this?” 

“He’s still alive?”

“As far as I know.”

Iroh, who had been nothing short of frustrated with the official, could have embraced the man at that moment. Zuko survived and even became Firelord ? He’d envisioned Zuko leading their nation sometime down the line, but this year was…soon.

Iroh swallowed, trying to make his reservations, fears, and general anxiety disappear. He focused on the fact that Zuko would be okay. Despite everything, his nephew would persevere. That was something to be thankful to the spirits for.

“I think I will take those provisions and a ride back to my ship,” whispered Iroh in a shaky voice.

The official looked over his papers again. “You know what? How about for tonight, we keep you and your ship docked, but in the morning, I send my superior out there to further discuss some of the provisions you need.” There was something very forced in the official’s gesture of kindness. Iroh suspected the next day the port authority was going to investigate why a “senile” man was at the helm of a boat.

Iroh was relieved that he didn’t bring Zuko here. It was bad enough the port official thought he had a few screws loose. He could still salvage the situation and forge some proper looking documents by the next sunrise. Lieutenant Jee could present them to the port authority the next day and claim that Iroh was an aging family member of his.

There was no telling what the port official would have thought of Zuko.

So that’s how Iroh thought his confusing night would end. He would be given a ride back to the Wani, must carry the weight of the future and gently explain it to Zuko, and forge some feasible papers.

Little did Iroh know that his night had just started.

All Zuko caught was the Avatar’s direction but after traveling towards it the streets widened. A Fire Nation restaurant was nestled next to an Earth Kingdom tea shop. A strange rail went up and down the streets.

Zuko wasn’t here to sightsee, but he couldn’t fail to notice it seemed Water Tribe, Fire Nation, and Earth Kingdom all lived together crammed on the too-bright streets.

And the miniature tanks held dominion over the road in a grid pattern. Block after block of grid he walked to find the same mixture of peoples, nations, and customs.

Part of him was tempted to go to a museum or a library and figure out what exactly happened to create a “Republic City” and how they managed to keep said Republic afloat— Zuko’s education may have been cut short by his banishment, but even he knew that republics were a fool’s errand— but Zuko had one goal with a solid lead. He couldn’t lose it to curiosity.

That and if this was actually a spirit tale maybe he shouldn’t acquire knowledge that he was never supposed to have access to. Maybe the lure of future knowledge was a test Zuko was supposed to pass.

Having crossed streets, cut through pavilions, and jumped a few flimsy fences, Zuko resolutely passed a closed bookstore without a head turn. (There was a small head turn, but the only title he saw was about Ba Sing Se’s Walls which Uncle could tell him all about anyways.)

Then the sounds of destruction rang out, echoing from a nearby street. Glass, wood, stone– Zuko knew what all sounded like when they were destroyed. Cutting through an empty pavilion with twinkling string lights and a dead water fountain, before he could really think about it he dove down a small alleyway determined to not get involved. 

Trouble had a way of finding him anyways. 

“Hey you! This area is under curfew!” That was the only warning he got. 

Zuko barely dodged a boulder from the way he was going. Backpedaling from what must have been an earthbender on the other end of the narrow street, Zuko found himself back in the pavilion. It was better this way out in the open, he thought. Tight quarter fighting was a favored tactic of the Earth Kingdom’s army for a reason. 

This time the pavilion wasn’t empty. This time the dead fountain wasn’t in one piece.

 A girl in traditional Earth Kingdom clothing was holding her own against three men. 

And the girl was winning. She created pillars, boulders, and holes to her advantage against an earthbender and two fire benders, until the man with an emerald green sash peeled metal from a building’s façade and launched it straight for her. Her head turned towards the source of the noise, and she erected a wall out of the destroyed fountain, much bigger than necessary, to block it.

“Found another one!” a voice, which must belong to the earthbender who got him into this fight, rang out. In a stroke of his usual bad luck, Zuko was now caught in this trivial street fight on the side of  this scarily skilled earthbender girl, and he had caught something she hadn’t.

In protecting herself from the metal attack, the fire bender had positioned himself to take a clean shot at the girl.

He shot fire towards the earthbender who had chased him into this mess. His flying kick stunned the firebender whom Zuko quickly took out of the fight with a harsh kick to the collarbone.

A rock was flung straight for his face, but with reflexes as sharp as a knife point, Zuko unsheathed his sword and deflected  it back towards the direction it came from, just as he once did to Yuyuan arrows at Pohuai.

Swords safe in their scabbard again, Zuko pressed his advantage to make space, punching fire to a chorus of boulders breaking and earth shifting: the girl was pressing the opponent who had somehow hurled metal at her.

The other firebender wasn’t ready for a fire duel and had horrific footwork. A few punches of fire and Zuko sent him stumbling backwards.

He raised his arm for another strike when a wire wrapped itself around his wrist. Zuko pulled, dragging that man towards him. Heat hit his back, and he realized he had taken his eyes off that firebender with the terrible footwork for a moment too long. Only his armor saved him from receiving burns.  

“Duck!” the girl cried out and Zuko listened. A boulder sailed over his head rendering the man who had his arm ensnared completely still. Another crash sound swiftly followed, and Zuko turned to see the bad footwork firebender twitching on the ground.

Standing there was the girl with a triumphant smirk. With a move of her arms, she earthbent her now dazed attackers in prisons of earth. The wire around Zuko’s wrist went fully slack, and he uncurled it from the indention it created in his leather wrist guard.

Adrenaline still roared in his veins. Zuko leveled his glare at the firebender whose collarbone he broke, the one who was going to take a cheap shot at a child.

“Is this how an honorable citizen of the Fire Nation acts!?” Zuko spat, in adrenaline fueled anger.

The half-conscious man predictably didn’t answer, but the girl was ready.

“We should go. I feel more on the way.”

Zuko swallowed more insults pertaining to honor and followed her, darting down alley and street until he couldn’t remember how to retrace his steps to the scene of the fight. They finally took a breath in an alleyway behind sprawling apartments.

“So, what’s a firebender helping me for?” the girl demanded… she was shorter than the Avatar. She had quickly bent a boulder now aimed at him. The threat was clear enough.

Zuko needed to go. He shouldn't have been caught up in the entire mess in the first place. “I-uh I live around here,” he answered, remembering the Fire Nation shops and restaurants. Good enough right? 

“Lie.”

“What?” Zuko sputtered. The armor was probably giving it away, but others had thought it a costume? Why didn’t she?

“Don’t bother lying. I can sense your heart rate pick up. You’re a really bad liar by the way,” she said, the boulder still menacingly pointed towards him. He was a few bad words away from fractures.

“You can really tell when I’m lying?” he asked, trying to get some time. Zuko didn’t comprehend the heart rate sensing stuff. The boulder inching closer took priority.

“Okay, okay! It’s just a hard story to believe.”

She gave a sharp smile. “Trust me, I’ve had the weirdest week of my life. Anything you say can’t phase me.”

It was talk or walk with a broken foot. Zuko chose the former.

“I think I pissed off a spirit or something. I’ve traveled seventy-two years ahead in the future. Yesterday was the fifth year of Firelord Ozai’s reign, and this city was a small fishing village. I’m trying to find coal for my ship.”

The girl unexpectedly leaned forward and through the movement of her bangs, Zuko thought he saw that she had clouded, grey irises? A blind master earthbender? And what was she talking about earth’s vibrations earlier? Maybe Zuko didn’t know as much as he thought he did about the earthbending discipline. He’d have to fix that if the Avatar found an earthbending teacher.

“You’re not lying,” she said. Was that relief in her voice? “You have a ship?” Her voice then fell. “You’re in the Fire Navy, aren’t you?”

“I only answer to myself.” This was probably the calmest conversation he had with an Earthbender about his role in the navy. Zuko wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

The girl seemed to mull over what he said before suddenly declaring, “Good enough. Congrats firebender, I’m also seventy-two years lost in the future.”

The Dragon of the West’s night was just getting started.

When he returned from the port authority, the driver assigned to him, seeing the military presence surrounding the Wani, tried to take him away from it. Iroh had to reassure him that he did, in fact, wish to approach the ship that was in “United Forces custody.”

Having boarded by himself, Iroh found a standoff between Lieutenant Jee and a tall, stiff man in red. The man had his brother’s golden eyes. It was the first thing Iroh noticed about him. The next observations were more crucial.

He shared a name with him and was a general of a military body Iroh couldn’t identify.

The man, a “General Iroh of the United Forces,” seemed to know who he was, and tried to present himself as a friend even offering supplies, despite boxing their ship in and despite the port authority already promising to do so.

This man wasn’t with the port authority, he had his own agenda…and several warships at his command. Crucially, the uninvited general’s eyes kept scanning the tower of the ship like he was expecting someone.

Iroh knew Zuko resided there, and this “General Iroh” knew more about them than he was letting on. He needed to establish motivations before Iroh let slip any word about Zuko.

“I have business with your nephew!” the general said in a rush of words.

“Business? I thought you had supplies to deliver.” Iroh pressed. Was the general talking about the retired Firelord of this timeline? Or did he want his teenage nephew, who was recuperating only a few decks away? Every instinct told him it was the latter.

Regardless, Iroh didn’t want this intruder anywhere near his nephew. Especially not an intruder with the exact golden hue and angular shape of Firelord Ozai’s eyes that already seemed to know too much about their true identities. Zuko had a lot stacked against him, but Iroh was determined to protect him where he could— even if he was outmatched. From the looks of the warships looming in the distance, Iroh surmised he was.

Lieutenant Jee sent him a strained look. Did this “Iroh” already have Zuko? Why feign friendship if so? What was Lieutenant Jee getting at?

The general in response raised his hands in an appeasing gesture and a smile that seemed familiar somehow. “Look, I think we got off the wrong foot.”

“That’s what happens when you box in someone with warships. Orders my ass,” Jee snidely accused, arms crossed.

The general pinched his nose. “I want to help you get back to your time. I can get your ships repaired in Yu Dao, I can get you provisions, and I know someone well versed in spiritual matters. Most importantly, I want to keep our leader away from you.” The general leveled his gaze at him directly. “Trust me, you don’t want to get involved with him.”

“Talking gibberish isn’t going to make us capitulate,” Jee shot back, but Iroh frowned. The general knew not only who they were, but also about their… predicament.

Where did he get that information? 

Yet again, Iroh I was faced with the likelihood that this other Iroh knew more about the Wani and its crew than he was letting on. 

“No, he’s right, Jee. As hard as it is to stomach, I found it out myself from the port authority.”

The United Forces general’s jaw slackened. “How much does the port authority know?” His voice fell to a mutter. “We’re going to have to move fast.”

Iroh was going to ask for an elaboration, but his question was lurched to a halt by Jee who whispered the words that haunted his campaigns.

“Sir, we have a problem.”

The general before them, already anxious, looked as on edge by their whisperings as Iroh felt.

“Prince Zuko left the ship an hour ago.”

“Prince Lu Ten left with his battalion an hour ago…”

Iroh left the two men on the deck, his feet moving before his mind could catch up.

Army protocol had always taught him to double check information. He had to check. He had to see. Because Zuko wouldn’t wander off when Iroh had ensured they would have no need to.

Iroh shook his head before he reached the entrance leading into the Wani’s upper decks. Who was he kidding? Zuko wasn’t like Ozai in many ways, but the stubborn determination was something they shared.

Once the door was opened, Iroh found himself face to face with the entirety of the crew, crammed in the hallway with pikes and helmets on, staring back at him. The momentary terror that had seized him before slinked away in the face of realizing that Jee had planned an entire ambush for the “general” on their deck. A part of him felt some pride that the man was coming around on his opinion of Zuko after the storm. The Jee of two weeks ago wouldn’t have dared stage an ambush on Zuko’s behalf.

“General!” a relieved voice exclaimed. Iroh spotted Ensign Ishida in the front. Jee was smart to stage the firebenders as the first line.

“What’s our orders against the boarding party?”  Another soldier asked, almost sounding eager.

“Is Prince Zuko truly gone?” asked Iroh.

Not all men were like Jee. “Yeah, he just marched off the ship thirty minutes after you left, General,” Ensign Uwir, a pikeman, answered. Disdain and exasperation colored his tone.

Iroh sighed and tried to not ruminate on it. Zuko would be back then. He always returned. He had to.

The worry must have shown on his face. “He said he was going to get coal, so we could leave,” Ishida said. Uwir, standing behind him, rolled his eyes when he thought Iroh wasn’t looking.

Iroh dreaded what would happen if Zuko figured out…Iroh himself hadn’t yet truly processed what he had been told happened in the future…

“Then we’re going to have to wait for him to return,” Iroh said more to himself. “Follow me. We have a visitor.” That was a generous way to describe the other so-called “general Iroh”, in the dragon of the west’s humble opinion.

 The crew filed after him in an orderly group. Jee, who was awkwardly looking everywhere on the deck except at the United Forces general, looked relieved he didn’t have to keep fielding Iroh II’s small talk attempts.

“Is everything in order?” the United Forces general asked. On seeing the crew forming behind he re-introduced himself and gave a bow which he followed up with a not so subtle scan of the crowd.  

Iroh looked from the general with Ozai’s eyes to his threatening warships with multiple cannons that boxed them in (though in fairness the cannons were not pointed at them), and then to the fog shrouded port. The port authority didn’t believe him, but here was someone who did and wanted to give them help.

Iroh hated it, hated the worry it sent down his spine, but this United Forces “general” (who knew his way around a ship very well for a general in the army presumably) may be their only shot at figuring out what happened to them. If it came with strings attached, Iroh would have to deal with that when it happened and just try to shield Zuko and the crew along the way.

“We accept your offer of repair, supplies, and rendezvous with the spiritual master on one condition,” Iroh said to a chorus of surprise from behind. Jee looked like he would interrupt.

The United Forces general gave a slow nod.

“We would like to wait for our captain’s return. It at most should only be a few hours. In the meantime, could I interest you in some ginseng tea?” He should take the chance to get to know their… benefactor.

“Wait, your nephew’s not on the ship?”

“Like I said,” Iroh soothed. “We could discuss this over tea.”  

The general to his surprise rejected his offer. “I feel I have intruded upon your ship long enough. I’m happy to wait with my men on the dock.”

Iroh, in his mild confusion, endured a rather courtly bow from the United Forces general, and then it was just he and the crew alone again on the Wani ’s deck. If there weren’t a misty skyline of glass pylons and vines Iroh could have mistaken the moment as one belonging to the waning hours of music night.

Jee walked up to him. “General, we aren’t seriously going to listen to this guy?”

Iroh nodded, still distantly watching the cook and the second engineer carefully arrange the tea set and plating which was now for himself and the lieutenant.

 “We have little choice. It is rare a man receives someone who seems to have all the answers.”

“All the answers? Like what? He seemed like an inexperienced youngster to me,” The lieutenant disagreed gruffly. “Boxing us in with his six cannon-luggers and then trying to play nice. Can’t even pretend to be consistent.” 

“How did he know I have a nephew? And that he is supposed to be on this ship? Why did he keep asking for him, a man of unspecified rank, when both the captain and Lieutenant are already standing right before him?” Iroh responded, then paused to stroke his beard. 

“I don’t know. Lucky guess, dumb curiosity?”

“He used the exact phrase, ‘ help us get back to our time.’ He knows we are in the wrong place.”  

Jee rolled his eyes. “I still don’t trust him. If he’s sending the ship to Yu Dao, that means you won’t have us for when you meet that spirit guru of his. Let me take a few men and ask to stay with this boat general. We could keep an eye on him for you.”

“Who did you have in mind?”

“Ensigns Ishida and Uwir plus myself. Those two, for all their bickering, do work well together.”

Iroh considered the crewmembers Jee suggested. Ensign Ishida, an illegitimate noble son, and Ensign Uwir, a debtor from the colonies, were some of the most martially competent men on the ship. Jee very well might need them.  Bringing too many men to keep tabs on the United Forces general would be suspicious, but just three in total? It could work.

“You have my permission. I’m sure Prince Zuko would agree if he were here.” Iroh didn’t know when he’d have a private moment to divulge Jee’s plan to him, so explaining it in retrospect would have to suffice.  

“When do you think he’ll be back? He left over an hour ago.”

“He will be,” Iroh assured.

In the end the Dragon of the West chose jasmine. They drank it in silence. 

“Good enough. Congrats firebender, I’m also seventy-two years lost in the future.”

“Wait, actually?” Zuko said, mystified, but taking another look, he surmised the clothing she wore was much closer to something Mai or Azula would wear in terms of time period and finery than what he had seen that evening. She had apprehension about the Fire Nation which was appropriate too.

She summoned two small earthen seats for them to sit on. “Yep, I woke up in my…town far from here, except no one knows who I am. I got chased out and I kept running until I ended up here. A half decent fire nation soldier isn’t the worst person to be trapped with I guess…”

“Why did you help me?” she asked him with renewed intensity.

“I got a boulder launched at me for no reason! Why were they after you?”

The girl had a smile back on her face, it widened in pride before she spoke: “I started it.”

Huh?

“I wanted them to shut up, so I started it,” she said in a bravado that Zuko could detect no waver in.

 Zuko raised an eyebrow that he belatedly realized the girl couldn't see. “Who are they?  Domestic forces?” He’d need to know about the law enforcement of the colonies in this world’s time if he had to resort to enlisting their help in capturing the Avatar. Zuko frowned. Getting involved in a fight with them certainly wasn’t going to help his case. 

She sighed. “They were just asking about where my parents were and saying weird shit like how I looked lost. I threw a boulder at them telling them to leave me alone when they made their biggest mistake: fighting back.” 

Zuko couldn't believe the domestic forces of this time had fallen into such disarray. The Domestic Forces of his time would never attack a girl on the streets…right? Zuko, to his mother’s disappointment, was never allowed to roam Caldera without a troop of guards, but his tutors had always extolled the domestic forces for their honor. 

“I should have broken more than one collarbone,” Zuko said, crossing his arms. 

She let out a laugh. “I like your style.” She hit him in the shoulder. What was that for? The girl for her part acted like what she just did was normal. Before he could demand an answer, she introduced herself.

“What’s your name? Mine’s Toph.” Toph. It suited her. Sounded like “tough” if one twisted the vowels. Zuko though wasn’t going to give out his name. It wasn’t a common one. “Li.”

“That’s your second lie in this conversation, sparky.”

“I’m not going to give out my name to an Earth Kingdom girl I found in an alley!”

“You can’t give your name? Afraid I know it?  So, you’re someone important? Interesting…and you have a boat at your age? Double interesting.” 

“What makes you think I didn't earn my ship!?” Because that ship was Zuko’s punishment. He had earned it, and it was as much a mark of a banished prince as his scar was. 

“Woah, woah relax. I need something to call you something, and I’m not calling you Li. There’s a million of them,” Toph responded.

“I don’t care what you call me.”

“Alright, Zhao it is! Like the Fire Nation Commander, right? Since you also have a ship and everything.”

“I am not in any way related to Admiral Zh—“ he cut himself off with a huff. “It’s Zuko.”

There. Fine. Be done with it. Otherwise this mysterious living lie detector would grill him through the rest of the night. 

He didn’t see any dramatic flash of reconciliation, but still Zuko was ready in case there’s a fight. 

She seemed to know a lot about the upper echelons of society and Fire Nation military hierarchy for just an Earth Kingdom girl …she wasn’t just an Earth Kingdom citizen as he initially suspected. How could he have missed it with her appearance? 

“You’re a noble, aren’t you? The common Earth Kingdom peasant doesn’t know about Fire nation personnel.” He felt a little childish at that moment. It sounded like he was trying to one up her in their impromptu identity guessing game.

“How about this? I don’t tell you my family name and you don’t tell me yours,” she offered.

“Okay,” Zuko agreed. That worked for him. There was only one house with his family name, and it held the dragon throne. He didn’t need to alienate the person who could level a boulder at his ankle at a moment’s notice. 

How would he handle the Avatar and her? Maybe he could try to convince her to help him? That would be impossible. Earth Kingdom nobility would ally themselves with the Avatar against the Fire Nation in a flash.

“I can almost hear you thinking,” Toph commented.

“I just don’t know where to go from here,” Zuko admitted. She raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment on omission.

“You could buy me some new clothes. I’ve been wearing this uncomfortable dress since Gaoling,” she said. Zuko only then noticed the elaborate silk dress had mud and grass stains. Fraying silks and tears. It was really in no condition to be worn. Not by a noble’s standards, anyway. 

“I need to find coal for my ship,” he said for himself more than her.

She crossed her arms. “Fine, I’ll help you find coal if you let me shop in the future. I’m the greatest Earthbender alive. Trust me, I can find some rocks.”

And just like that, he had coal secured.

“Deal.”

It would be good for Zuko to know this Republic City a little better too. Not like he had much faith in his ability to do so, since the place seemed to get more unpredictable by the minute. 

He just prayed to Agni that the Wani would still be there, with his uncle and crew, when he’d finally return with the promised fuel. 

Somehow, he also didn’t think that his prayers would be answered. 

Several hours passed, and Zuko, to Iroh I’s dismay, never returned.

“I’ll have my men search the docks,” the United Forces general said. Adding to Iroh’s dismay, the other general Iroh had reappeared on the Wani ’s ship with a worrisome timetable. He wanted the Wani off to Yu Dao in under an hour, and even worse, he was going to personally escort Iroh I to the spiritual master himself. Alone. 

Iroh had said he’d be honored, of course. A prince handled hostage and suspicious benefactor situations with honor.

“Allow me to suggest some men from the crew to assist you. They know my nephew well, and it will help him to adjust to everything with a few familiar faces,” suggested Iroh. That and the only reason he hadn’t started resisting was because he had Jee swear on his honor that he’d prevent this other Iroh from so much as batting Zuko’s phoenix tail if he found him.

 “Very well. I can accommodate them on my flagship.”

It took less than an hour for United Forces sailors to board for the Wani’ s trip to Yu Dao. At least they only numbered ten. The ship’s original crew could overpower them in an emergency. The second lieutenant, who also doubled as their navigator, had pointed that out to Iroh as they boarded.

Jee, Ishida, and Uwir gave him a firm salute and trailed off behind the other Iroh’s Captain Opik. According to the Captain, the other General Iroh would have his flagship dock in the Wani ’s former spot in case Zuko came back.   

The United Forces general escorted him to a much smaller ship. It reminded Iroh of the riverboat the Wani carried. He watched through the glass the Wani disappear into the fog and tried to not think of how wrong it felt for both he and Zuko to be without the vessel.

In a way it had become Iroh’s home as much as the palace in the Fire Nation had been— prior to his shared exile with nephew.

A nephew who was currently entirely missing, and of whom Iroh had no ways of tracking at the moment. A situation Iroh couldn't help but compare to when he lost Lu Ten who also was missing for several hours before…being found. 

The United Forces general kept his eyes on the departing ship, and his question brought Iroh I back to reality. “The spiritual master is just across the bay. Are you ready?”

Was Iroh ever ready for the major shifts in his life? No, but life happened wherever he was. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Of course.”

The riverboat’s engines hummed, and they too were enveloped in the bay’s mists. 

Chapter Text

Iroh II had endured a lot of berating in his life. He cut his hair in scandalous fashion and ran off to work on a Water Tribe ship at eighteen. He joined the United Forces two years after that. Throughout it all he worked under drill sergeants, captains, and commanders yelling inches away from his face.

Not to even mention the ire his mother, the Firelord herself, held for his decisions. She never needed to raise her voice though— her tone and disapproving facial expressions were always more than enough.

Still, even with such a history, his greatest critic was always himself, and that internal voice of his was shrilly reminding General Iroh that he had managed to make his own namesake dislike him in a span of a mere few hours.

The defensive side of him wanted to argue that the situation he had been put in wasn’t fair, but life wasn’t fair. He had swallowed that bitter pill many times in differing forms of condescending nobles and sunken grave ships filled with his dead men at the bottom of Yue Bay. It never got easier.

Air Temple Island, still bathed in majesty by the misty clouds, got a gasp out of his great-great granduncle when their pilot ship got near enough.

Iroh II couldn’t help himself. “I was amazed by it too. Well, I first saw it as a drawing in a textbook, but you know still…it’s a great place,” he trailed off. Iroh II decided he was going to focus on looking for the lone, orange light that was meant to guide boats to the island’s only dock from now on.

“I’ve never seen one unburned.” The elder said in a wistful tone.

“This world is a better one,” Iroh II added. Iroh I shifted to give him a peculiar look, but nothing more was said.

In the heart of Air Temple Island, there was an office of plants, tomes, and electric light where Tenzin formally introduced himself as the leader of the Air Nation and as son of Avatar Aang,  which had the elder Iroh blanch. Iroh II could only imagine how disorientating this could all be. Still, Iroh I composed himself well and introduced himself in the traditional Fire Nation fashion Iroh II had learned.

“And are you familiar with General Iroh of the United Forces?” Tenzin gestured in his direction. Iroh II had no intention of letting Iroh I know of their familial relation. He had already botched their first meeting, and then he’d have to explain why he was a General in the United Forces  instead of a General in the Fire Nation.

“I have made his acquaintance,” Iroh I said. There was a wariness in his voice that Iroh II was sure he was responsible for. Tenzin merely raised an eyebrow at him but chose to not question.

“Could you tell me how you got here?”

Iroh I complied, and Iroh II listened on. Apparently, the Wani was trying to stay out of port for a while. 

“Why avoid ports?” Tenzin interrupted.

“There is an admiral in our time who can be difficult to deal with. We were going to dock once we were a few more leagues north. Then the skyline of Cranefish Village appeared, and we realized that this was not the place we knew.”

Tenzin began to scribble it all down, and Iroh II got the feeling that Iroh I was omitting details.

“And Iroh informed me you went to the port authority. What did you tell them?” Tenzin leveled his gaze at Iroh II, and the man got the feeling he would be meeting with the port authority in just a few short hours to get the entire visit slashed from the records.

“Do you have any tea? It has been a long night for someone my age,” Iroh I remarked.

Iroh II took an out when he saw it. “I can prepare a pot,” he said, having already taken a step towards the door.

“Thanks, Iroh,” Tenzin acknowledged.

Iroh II couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief once he was alone in Air Temple Island’s familiar halls again.

Iroh II lasted approximately five seconds in the kitchenette unscathed until he was pushed back with a gust of wind, drenched, and then hit straight on with a well thrown spoon.

“What the—”

“A Fire Nation soldier!” exclaimed a young voice. Iroh II craned open his eyes.

In the kitchenette, near the icebox were two water tribe children alongside a bald kid with arrows, all three looked ready for a fight. His brain was on rapid fire, reminding him that yes Tenzin did technically call him about this, but that was very different than facing the reality that was before him.

He rubbed his eyes anyways. When he opened them again, Chieftain Sokka, Master Katara, and Avatar Aang were still standing there as children. Iroh II couldn’t get over how young and scared they looked. Iroh could see it in their stillness. At that moment, they were convinced he was going to bend fire at them—at children.

“Not a fire nation soldier,” he croaked. He raised his arms in a show of surrender.

Avatar Aang, the man he last saw at the age of nine in a solemn bedside vigil lowered his arms and peered at him. Sokka to his side hissed loud enough for Iroh II to overhear.

“Aang! Don’t let your guard down! He’s wearing a red uniform.” Okay fair point.

“I am General Iroh of the United Forces. It is an honor to meet you three again,” he said and gave them a deep bow.

Aang gave him a bow back with a hand gesture that was a little different than the one Iroh knew, and Katara lowered her water pouch.

“Again?” questioned Katara.

“I know this can be disorientating, but yes. I knew all of you.”

“And you just dress up as a fire nation soldier because…” Sokka still held his boomerang in a tight grip.

Iroh wondered if Tenzin thought it a good idea to tell time travelers the intricacies of the future. He resolved he would keep his explanations brief. “I’m part of the United Forces. It started as a worldwide peace keeping organization, but nowadays we also protect the United Republic which you’re in right now. I wear red because I’m a firebender and an officer, not because I represent the Fire Nation.”

“Hmmm,” Sokka went aloud. Katara nodded to Aang, and they shared a glance with the future chieftain.

“Oh alright, we won’t keep him prisoner,” Sokka grumbled.

“Prisoner?” exclaimed Katara. “That wasn’t the plan at all, Sokka.”

Sokka looked abashed. “What? We could have used him as ransom or something. Wind blast him into prince jerkbender next time we run into him.”

Chieftain Sokka was theorizing how to catapult him into his teenage grandfather, so Iroh made sure to pinch himself just to be triple sure this was happening to him.

“So, are you from the Fire Nation?” Aang asked, cutting above the siblings.  

Iroh II nodded. “I was raised in Caldera. It’s still the capital in this time too.”

“But you’re here on Air Temple Island in the middle of the night. Something must be happening. War councils aren’t assembled for no reason,” Sokka deduced. Aang looked pained at the thought of a war council assembling at an air temple.

“No, there’s no war so no war council. Especially not here.”

Did Tenzin not tell them anything? Was Iroh II breaking some cosmic laws right now? Should he tell them about the Wani ?

“Tenzin is handling it,” he deflected. The children looked so uneasy. He changed his mind. Certainty had to be better than not knowing. Cosmic laws be damned. These kids already had dealt with enough uncertainty and would deal with it for the rest of their lives. Iroh wanted to give them a reprieve. Besides if he led them to a conclusion that wasn’t the same as point blank spelling it out for them.

“But yes, there is an old Fire Nation ship that appeared in the harbor.”

That was all the words the trio needed to let out a loud, annoyed sigh. “Not him again,” Katara muttered.

“Is he here like on the island here? If you really want to help us, you’ll get us out or even better kick him out.”

Aang looked conflicted at Sokka’s demand. “But that means leaving Tenzin.”

Sokka pinched his nose bridge. “I don’t know if you heard General-not-as-evil-as-the-average-firebender over there, but Zuko is here somehow with his ship!”

“Couldn’t Tenzin fight him?” Katara mused.

“He wasn’t on the ship,” Iroh interrupted. The three visibly relaxed. “And the ship is on its way North to Yu Dao. Only Unc-General Iroh— Iroh I, the general from your time— is here, and he has come in hopes of working with Tenzin to get back to his time.”

“So, it’s a truce?” clarified Sokka.

“It should be, and I know Tenzin. He will do everything to ensure your safety. You don’t have to worry here,” he emphasized. Sokka still looked skeptical, but Katara and Aang seemed to have taken his words to heart.

“So, what are you three doing here so late at night?”

“Raiding for snacks of course! We’ve been camping for the past month!” Sokka explained.

“Have you ever had an airbender fruit pie?” Aang got out of the icebox the aforementioned dessert.

“I have. My favorite one is the purple,” Iroh said, remembering his first slice on his fifth birthday. Avatar Aang had made it for him himself.

“It’s in the Fire Nation now?” asked Katara. Iroh in the meantime had found her a knife to cut along with some plates in the cabinets that hung over the sink.

“Not really. I mean there’s a few Air Nation cuisine restaurants in the capital, but it’s still difficult for them to replicate because airbending is needed for the eggs.”

The plates with a heaping slice of pie were passed out to each of them. The trio sat at the small table while Iroh took to leaning against the sink.

“I’m going to light a fire, but just to warm up the slice. Is that okay?”

They consented to the culinary use of fire with a mix of wariness and curiosity, and Iroh made sure to show them the tiny flame before putting it to use. There shouldn’t be any harm in showing them that fire could be used to cook in addition to destroy.

“Why do you warm it?” Aang asked him, having already taken his first bite. “Monk Gyatso always had us eat it cold.”

“My grandfather showed me this, but I guess it’s because firebenders like stuff hot?”

“Eh, firebenders,” Sokka muttered.

“Could you heat mine?” Aang surprised him, but Iroh took his plate and delicately bent a flame underneath for just the right amount of time.

“Which is better?” Katara asked after Aang took a bite. Iroh II was curious too. He really should have at least begun brewing that tea for Tenzin and Iroh I but curiosity had kept him here up till this point. Might as well experiment with dessert with a trio of time travelers.

“Definitely cold,” Aang said with a mouthful of pie. “But the Fire Nation twist does give it a different texture.” He cleared his throat. “That reminds me of Kuzon. He once put fire flakes over a bowl of thukpa and told me it tasted better.”

Kuzon? That was someone Avatar Aang had never brought up. Iroh didn’t realize he asked the question until he was roped into an explanation where Avatar Aang had a fire nation friend from Sozin’s time.

Iroh listened from his designated spot at the sink as the conversation became one more of Katara and Sokka asking Aang what his childhood was like and quietly assembled the tea set.

He picked ginseng because it was his great-great uncle's favorite, and got started brewing, trying to remember the exact number of seconds to heat the water. He had grown up drinking tea of course, but the Republic City habit of drinking coffee in defiance of the rest of the world’s preferences had him hooked too.

“You’re not going to bust us, right?” Sokka asked just before Iroh picked up the tray holding a pot of ginseng tea (hopefully not scalded) alongside two teacups. He had to keep himself from smirking at the comment. Chieftain Sokka, one of history’s largest figures, was asking him of all people not to reveal that he was eating pie past lights out.

Katara and Aang looking on hopefully didn’t help him.  

“Your secret is between me and Agni as long as you remove the evidence,” he gestured to the dirty plates.

“Katara! You’re my favorite sister. Did I tell you that?” Sokka said a few notes higher, expecting his sister to do the “remove the evidence part.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “I am your only sister, Sokka. We are washing the dishes.”

“But you’re the waterbender—” Sokka is soon drenched like him. “Hey! Not fair!”

Iroh made his exit to the quiet chorus of children lightly bickering over dishes. Aang gave him a small wave goodbye which Iroh returned. He felt much lighter than when he had entered.

The United Forces general wasn’t entirely surprised when he returned to Tenzin’s office to find that his namesake had departed. It was only a few hours till dawn, and Iroh had spent much longer than usual making tea and was sworn to secrecy as to why.

He was surprised to see Tenzin was holding his head in his hands.

“That bad?”

“Does it take half an hour to brew tea as a firebender these days?” Tenzin’s dry delivery didn’t help how tired he sounded.

“Yes.” Iroh slid the door shut behind him. He set down the tea set and began to pour it out a cup for Tenzin and himself. The monk straightened up and took a sip. Upon seeing no reaction, Iroh was relieved it wasn’t outright repulsive to him.

“I’m sorry, Iroh,” Tenzin said after his second sip.

“What for?” What did Tenzin have to apologize for? He was put on the spot this evening and had coordinated everything.

He sighed. “For making you go out and retrieve them. I know you weren’t received with open arms.”

Iroh’s stomach churned. His namesake must have detailed his less than stellar introduction. A grimace overtook his face as he remembered how defeated Tenzin looked just a few minutes ago. “Then I think I should be apologizing. That must have made him not very amenable to talking with you.”

“It was fine,” Tenzin started out. “He wants to find your grandfather and get back to his time. I showed him to a guest room and agreed to tell him about his role in the Hundred Years War tomorrow.”

Iroh was experienced in a lot of things: firebending, commanding, and the terrible bureaucracy that followed him everywhere. Spiritual matters were another thing entirely. He was raised to venerate Agni like the numerous generations before him. He knew his prayers and practices, but spirits and their actions wrought on the world were wild, free— so different from High Temple teachings of Caldera.

 “So, it’s safe to tell them about the past?”

Tenzin frowned. “In the time between getting my parents and uncle settled and your arrival, Jinora and I searched the library for anything and everything about time travel, dimension travel, hallucinations, you name it, but we didn’t find anything, so we’re approaching this with caution. I’m letting them know as much as they need, but nothing more. We wouldn’t want to be the reason something ends up drastically different.”

“You’ll tell him enough, so he trusts you,” summarized Iroh.

Tenzin nodded, and Iroh got the idea the master didn’t like the tightrope walking this situation required either.

“And Raiko? I had three ships out in the bay corralling their cruiser plus General Iroh already went to the port authority before I arrived.”

“That’s not the only unusual thing that will get Raiko’s attention.” Tenzin opened a drawer and slid across the desk a copy of the morning news. Iroh scanned the headline confused.

AVATAR STATUES ACROSS WORLD GLOW ONCE MORE

AVATAR KORRA REPORTED SAFE IN S. POLE

The rest of the front page (Fire Nation and Southern Water Tribe ambassadors condemning Kuvira and a report on Varrick Industries’ newest historical mover show commencing season 2’s production) seemed trivial in comparison.

“Avatar Aang. He must be the reason,” Iroh said breathlessly. “And Raiko knows something supernatural has happened. Well, he doesn’t know the specifics, but we both know he and his men will be all over this.” Iroh examined the top of the newspaper again.

“Why else would Raiko have the press write through the night for this?” How else would the morning paper be delivered so early?

“He’s likely trying to distract the public from the referendum, but if he finds out…” Tenzin trailed off.

“He’ll use them somehow. Knowing Raiko, he’s already celebrating.”  

“Then you understand,” Tenzin looked him dead in the eye, “that it’s our job to keep them hidden and get them home. The less people who know the better. I was lucky they turned up here. Most of our acolytes are aiding relief efforts in the Earth Kingdom or at the Western Air Temple this rotation. It’s only Jinora, myself, and a few acolytes here for retreat.”

“I can get to the port authority in less than half an hour and insist that the Wani is under my purview.” Iroh II hated how much of this sounded like an operation.

“Your men and Air Temple Island aren’t the only ones who know. My sister just called…My mother, this world’s version, is missing.”                                                          

“Missing?” repeated Iroh. He remembered how defeated Tenzin looked when he entered. If Master Katara was missing, that meant…

“Did you tell her the truth?” Trepidation was written across Tenzin’s taut face.

Tenzin’s hands tightened around the teacup. “I did. A-At least Kya called me before going to the local authorities, but still the faster we get them back to their time the faster our world’s versions hopefully return.”

Iroh swallowed. His grandfather, the one he spent his entire childhood with, was probably also gone. “I should expect a call from my mother?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but Tenzin still saw through him.

Putting a hand on his shoulder—something Tenzin has never done before— he encouraged Iroh to finish his tea. He did, and it failed to flush out the sour taste in his mouth.

“I’ll call her first, Iroh. I’ll explain what’s happening,” Tenzin offered.

“I’ll go to the port authority now and try to get ahead on that,” he said distantly. He would be useful. He had to be.  The United Forces General made the motion to leave, but before he could step out of the warmly lit office Tenzin’s voice stopped him.

“Why didn’t you tell him who you were? It would have made your night easier.”

Why didn’t Iroh do it? His captain asked him the same question once she pieced everything together. Was it because he feared his namesake wouldn’t believe him? Was it because he wasn’t where he supposedly belonged: in the Fire Nation palace surrounded by luxury? He chose to tell Tenzin none of these reasons.

“Master Tenzin, you know how it feels to worry about measuring up to family.”

The look on the monk’s face told Iroh that he was right.

Iroh II spotted a lone figure in the courtyard looking off into the mists.  

He knew who it was, and so Iroh II lightened his steps and prayed to Agni he didn’t disturb the man further.

It’s a sight that stuck with him long after his trip across the bay.