Date: 2010-01-03 08:41 am (UTC)

Later, Azula didn't seem to remember much about the fire.

“I woke up and there was fire,” she said, eyes wide. “So I got out.”

“Where was the fire?” Zuko asked her. “Was it near you?”

“It was everywhere,” she said. And he gave her a hug, because he was her big brother and she should need him to. All she did when she got it was stiffen, though.

So he showed her what he'd figured out, and practiced with her every day. They were staying with Uncle Iroh for a while- how long, Zuko didn't know. But there was a spot behind the garage that wasn't visible from the house, and no one seemed to care very much what they did these days.

“If you use your fire in the daytime, it doesn't try to come out when you sleep. I accidentally set my bed on fire a lot when I was smaller, before I figured that out.”

Azula nodded, and focused on the candles in front of her. The flames grew larger and smaller as she breathed. Huge, then normal. Huge, normal. When Zuko put his attention to them, he could tell that they weren't his flames, and even after weeks of practicing with Azula it seemed strange, that a fire could belong to someone besides him.

Her control was very good. It had taken Zuko weeks to get to that level. It had taken her just days.

“You can set fires if you're having a nightmare, too. So- if you feel like you're going to have bad dreams, don't sleep in your bed. Go somewhere with a tile floor, like the bathroom, and curl up there. That way you can't set the house on fire, just your clothes. ”

She nodded solemnly.

Azula had always been a total brat. She'd made him play with her friends, and she'd ordered everyone around like she was the queen of the world. Mom had said it was a phase, when Zuko had complained. And now he almost wished Azula would go back to trying to humiliate him. He didn't like how quiet she was now. It was like she was plotting something. Except she hadn't done anything awful since the fire. She was being nice to everyone. Maybe she just felt guilty.

(Zuko felt guilty sometimes, and it wasn't even his fault.)
Dad didn't talk to them much these days. He was trying to put together a case against the company that had done the wiring for the house.

“Fires don't just start on their own.” he said, pacing. “There was a reason, and they're going to pay for it.” He shot Zuko a glare as he said this, but Zuko hadn't started a fire in a long time, so Dad's gaze moved on.

Zuko said nothing.

Uncle didn't have to go to work much. He owned a tea shop, and he only had to stop by once or twice a week to make sure that the employees weren't slacking off and that the tea was still excellent.

The rest of the time, he spent with Zuko and Azula. He bought Azula dolls and little castles and pretty dresses, and Zuko got a knife and some worn out old toys from the attic.

“Are you crazy?” Ozai said one day, when he caught Zuko attacking invisible enemies in the back yard with his knife. “Give that here. You could hurt someone.”

So Zuko lost his knife, and Azula's dolls all had mysterious accidents involving the river in the woods near the house, or being left in the driveway just before Dad drove off to work, or being left in the oven just before it was time to make dinner.

(“But it was a cave, Uncle Iroh! The dolls had to hide from a big ugly dragon.” Winning smile, tone of innocence- Zuko knew better, but he didn't care what happened to Azula's dolls, so he didn't say anything. Uncle stopped giving her dolls and started getting plastic swords for both of them, which made everyone happy.)

There were no more fires, and Dad stopped pacing so much, and they had the funeral. Azula kept being not-horrible to him, and Zuko stopped being freaked out by it.

Things were different. But now they were staying mostly the same. And Zuko could live with that.
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