I do not own Avatar: The Legend of Aang, if I did a lot of things would be different XD I own nothing in this fanfiction except the idea of the plot (and even then, someone might've thought of this before me XD I don't know, I didn't check) No money or profit is being made from this fanfiction.

He opened his eyes, groggily. His heart was pounding quickly against his ribs and he felt light headed; he must have started chest breathing in his sleep again. He closed his eyes and began taking slow, deep breaths. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes again and turned, painfully, onto his side. He gazed at the clutter of objects in his room as they slowly came back into permanent focus. As he began to take in his surroundings, he became aware of the sunlight streaming in through the window. It must be late morning, meaning everyone else was probably awake already. He rolled onto his back again with a soft groan, thinking that he should get up and join the others. Even though he knew that no one would mind him staying in late, he always felt bad leaving everyone else to do all the work while he lay in bed all morning. He stared up at the ceiling, dreading the moment when he would have to sit up.

After a few minutes of psyching himself into it, he pushed himself up on his elbows, groaning again as a dull pain began to throb in his chest. It had been a year since he had received the injury, but it still hurt him every day. He swung his legs out of bed and then proceeded to crouch down on the floor, breathing deeply again. He slowly forced himself to straighten up, once more making that dull pain start.

He looked down at his skinny torso; he'd lost a lot of weight in the last year, probably an unhealthy amount; then again, everything else about him was unhealthy, so why should he bother about his scrawny body? Despite his extremely thin figure, he still had faint muscles, although a year of being unable to exercise without experiencing severe pain had diminished them quite a bit. Oddly enough, this was the thing that depressed him the most; he had once been an athletic young man who could do almost anything he set his mind to, but now he was a scrawny weakling who could hardly do even the simplest of tasks without doubling over in pain. He'd almost lost the will to care about himself anymore; in fact, the only thing that kept him from retreating into his room and giving up completely was a small stubbornness in the back of his head that repeatedly made him drag himself up and carry on going. Of all the things that had weaken in the past year, his pig headedness wasn't one of them.

He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on before picking up his belt and securing it around the shirt and the trousers that he had slept in, then he pulled on his boots and tied them tightly to his legs. He moved over to the mirror on his wall and, resting his hands on the shelf below it, stared at his reflection. His skin was paler than it used to be and he had dark circles under eyes which, in his opinion, had lost their old sparkle. He sighed and brushed a few strands of his long fringe out of his eyes. The rest of his hair was getting long, too, (it was already falling to his shoulders) but it had lost a lot of the volume it had once had. He felt pathetic as he looked at the tired and forlorn face that stared back out at him.

He tore himself away from his reflection and moved to his window. He looked out and saw his friends hard at work, re-building their old home. Many other homeless Earth Kingdom residents had joined him and his comrades, all of them searching for a place to live their lives in peace, now that the hundred year war was over. He still couldn't believe that it was really over; the war that had taken his whole family from him had ended in a split second, when the Avatar had defeated Fire Lord Ozai. He clenched a fist on the window-sill as he thought of Ozai, the man who was responsible for taking everything away from him. He had always longed to destroy Ozai himself, but in the end his recklessness and hate had gotten the better of him and he had be forced to sit by as the Avatar took away Ozai's Bending. In his opinion, the Avatar shouldn't have wasted time with Energy Bending, he should have just killed Ozai. How was it fair to spare the life of the man who had taken countless innocent lives without a second thought?

His stomach twisted up and he felt sick as he thought this. He himself was just as bad as Ozai; he had caused innocent people to suffer just as the former Fire Lord had. He had been so consumed with hate that he hadn't cared who was innocent and who wasn't, he just wanted some kind of revenge. The worst part was, deep down, he still couldn't bring himself to forgive the Fire Nation. As much as he wanted to move on and exculpate them, his blood still boiled at the thought of the Fire Nation. He hated himself for this, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't leave the past behind him, something kept pulling it back into the present and filling him with hate.

I'm pathetic, he thought, bitterly, as he looked down at the construction below him. People from the Fire Nation colonies were helping the Earth Kingdom to build a home were everyone could live in peace and harmony. None of them were bad people, but he still did his best to avoid contact with them. Not hard considering his injury made it impossible for him to work most days, another fact which angered him greatly. He wanted to help, he wanted to rebuild his home, but he was forced to remain on the sidelines, yet again, and carry out the non-laborious jobs, such as mapping out architectural plans. Everyone assured him these jobs were just as important as the practical tasks, but he still would have preferred to be useful and actually take part in the restoration of the village.

He turned away from the window and leaned against the wall, not wanting to leave his room yet. Inside his room, he felt safe, he felt that he could think these thoughts without his friends asking him if he was alright and trying to comfort him with, what he thought at least, were empty words. What's more, when he was alone in his room, he didn't have to deal with the worried looks his friends always gave him. He knew that they cared about him a great deal, he understood that they were only concerned for his well-being, but he couldn't help feeling even worse when they gave him those sympathetic looks. It felt like they were pitying him for his injury and inability to do anything, like he was some kind of poor, weak, pathetic invalid.

He knew he couldn't stay here wallowing in self-pity. He walked to the door and placed his hand on the handle. He stayed there for a few moments, bracing himself for another day. He turned the handle and pushed the door open, letting it swing shut behind him as he made his way out onto the wooden balcony around his room. He crossed a rope bridge across the high tree canopy and came to a second room, whose door he opened much quicker than his own. There were only two other people in the room who both looked up from a construction plan as he entered. One of them jumped up, looking surprised but happy to see him.

'Jet!'

Dun dun duuuuun! Not much of a cliff hanger, is it? Please tell me what you think, constructive crit is more than welcome. Also, did anyone guess who it was before his name was said? If so, when did you work it out? I want to know how subtle I am... probably not very XD