cyclical reincarnation; constants through the millenia.
"Why not?" he is saying, and Aang can practically feel the fire, a raw heat that moves between them and suddenly explodes in his chest. "We didn't get caught last time - and anyway, those stuffy old monks don't like it one bit, and they've been trying to keep us apart."
Aang rocks back on his heels, and shakes his head through his smile. "You're a bad influence."
"/I'm/ a bad influence? Who was it that -"
The subreality falls around them and Aang wakes up a hundred years later, thrashing and throwing his arms over his face.
To him, it was months ago; to the world, it was a century. "/What/?"
"Just walking," Zuko says quietly though the open door, turning his head. "Can't sleep." He's nervous even now - everything he does, it seems, is an implication. "Were you - are you upset about something?"
"Just a dream," he says shortly; and then: "Remember when I thought we could be friends?"
Zuko looks up, and something rises in his eyes.
"Well, we can't."
It falls like a stone.
"Ah." He doesn't see the point in staying; he knew it would take time. "See you in the morning."
He leaves, and Aang doesn't feel any better for it - /Firebenders/, he thinks spitefully. It doesn't matter the incarnation; they stay with him. Sozin, when he was Roku; Kuzon, a hundred years ago. And now -
/No/, he thinks firmly, and refuses to sleep.