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hakoda watches the young firebender get up from his sleeping mat. he hasn’t been able to sleep, the air temple feels so quiet after his time in prisons and on his ship, and it seems zuko is the same. he hasn’t had much of a chance to interact with the former prince. on the trip back from boiling rock, the boy had clung to sokka's side like a silent shadow, keeping his body between hakoda and his son, a habit he doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. he’d had to keep sokka from running after the boy after his display at dinner. hakoda has some ideas why the boy reacted like that, but hopes that he’s wrong.
he disentangles himself from his kids, sokka mumbling in his sleep about food. the sun hasn’t risen yet, and hakoda carefully climbs up to the next level, looking for a flash of red from the prison garb both of them still wore. he finds the boy nestled in a space near the edge, between broken columns. zuko is seated in what looks like the most uncomfortable position, kneeling in the dirt with his eyes closed, flame in hand. hakoda settles down on the rock near the kid, who doesn’t seem to know he’s there.
“you don’t trust me with my own son.” hakoda says, quietly. zuko starts, staring up at the man. spirits, the young man looks like he’s going to be sick. “my own son. ”
zuko’s voice is low and hoarse as he shifts his eyes from hakoda’s hands to the flame the boy has cradled in his own palms. “i know how a father treats the non-prodigal child -- i won’t let you hurt him.”
hakoda sighs, cradling his head in his hands. zuko keeps talking, rushed and hurried, tripping over his words.
“he’s strong -- and he trained with a sword master and -- he -- he -- he.” the boy pauses for air, “he may not be a bender but he -- you can’t --”
“i think that we do not understand each other,” hakoda says slowly, interrupting zuko’s wild stream of words. he runs his hands through his hair, keeping his eyes on the -- the boy, the boy -- he really is just a child, not much older than sokka.
“i --”
hakoda doesn’t give him a chance: “at first, i thought it was because i was a stranger,” he says, and he’d get that -- he’d get that “but you don’t look at chit sang the same way. and then, you don’t protect any of the others the same way, not even katara.” it’s really only his son “only sokka.”
“yes sir.” zuko says quietly, letting the flame in his hands go out. somehow, he gets smaller, curling in on himself.
“what i can’t figure out,” hakoda says slowly, watching zuko’s face for his reaction, “is why.” the boy straightens, closing his eye and turning his head so the scar covering part of his face is front and center. he pulls back his hair, and hakoda has to bite back his curses. he's not sure zuko could handle it.
"my -- i know fathers." spirits, the boy is still talking. "one face in public, and another in private." zuko chokes back a sob, turning back to meet hakoda's eyes. "my sister was born lucky -- i was lucky to ever be born."
“and you think it’s the same with sokka and katara.” hakoda can’t tear his eyes away from the burn scar covering zuko's face. “you think i’d hurt my son.” he shifts down from the rock to the ground, getting closer to zuko. the boy pulls back, flinching. something clicks for hakoda, and he stares at zuko, horrified. “you think i’ll do the same to you.” spirits, how -- zuko closes his eye, and hakoda tentatively reaches out a hand to his face, hovering over the scar. the shape is familiar, and he maps his hand over the path of the burn. bile rises at the back of his throat, and hakoda decides that if aang isn’t able to defeat the firelord, he will. his hand matches the shape of the scar, as if -- as if someone had held zuko down with a hand and burned. sailors talk, and hakoda had heard stories as they passed through different ports of the firelord. the firelord, and his son, no older than sokka, who had been --
zuko opens his eyes, and hakoda can see the flash of fear terror in his eye as the boy falls out of seiza, backing away from hakoda.
“don’t touch me.” zuko spits out, raising a hand as if to protect himself.
“there were stories,” hakoda says slowly, not moving any closer. “and we thought that’s all they were, propaganda --” because how could one man ever be that cruel to his own son he doesn’t say, “either from the fire nation or the earth kingdom.” he backs up slightly, giving zuko space. “but they weren’t, were they.” it’s not a question, but a statement of fact.
“no, they weren’t.” zuko says quietly. “i disrespected my father.” hakoda feels like he’s been punched in the gut, listening to the kid talk about being burned by his own father as if it was something to be expected.
“you were a child.” he needs so desperately for zuko to know that. zuko shrugs, staring at the ground between him and hakoda.
“i learned.”
those words are what break hakoda. he bows his head, letting the tears run down his face. he wants to grab the boy and hold him until he understands that he could never have deserved this, that no father should ever have done this. zuko is so fragile though, he’s not sure if it would help or hurt more. instead, hakoda wipes his eyes, listening to the heartbreaking sobs of the boy.
“you learned.” hakoda repeats back to him, “spirits -- you were a kid!” his voice gets loud, and he regrets it immediately as zuko flinches, clearly prepared to be struck. “i’m sorry.”
sokka’s voice rings through the temple, loud and clear: “daaaad! zuko! breakfast!” in an instant, zuko is between hakoda and the path back to the rest of the temple, dropping into a firebending stance. even after all of this , hakoda thinks, the boy will still throw himself in the face of any danger for sokka.
“give us a minute, son!” hakoda calls back, standing and dusting the dirt from his clothes. “we’ll be right there.” zuko doesn’t move -- and hakoda sighs. “i don’t know how to convince you to trust me,” he says, watching zuko with sharp eyes. “other than showing you.” zuko says nothing, still staring at hakoda with a wide, terrified eye; but he lets the man pass.
when hakoda finds sokka, he gathers his son into a tight hug and cries. later, after zuko doesn't make an appearance at breakfast, he'll send his son with a bowl of the rice porridge up to where he left zuko. the boy isn't his son, but hakoda can't get the image of zuko sokka sokka sokka kneeling before his father out of his mind.