Disclaimer: If I owned Avatar, the events written below would be in the show. No duh.

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Jet really, honestly would not have minded if he had died that night at Lake Laogai. In fact, death was possibly the best thing he could hope for, under the circumstances. He would have died a martyr. There would be rebel blood on the hands of the Earth Kindom and consequently the Fire Nation, and that ever-so-special Avatar would have to live with the fact that he had let Jet die. Even better, the fact that someone was sacrificed for their cause was bound to strengthen said cause, right?

He never got to find out.

Of all the things that could have happened, the worst possible one did.

He lived.

Or, he reconsidered, maybe he did not live. One could surely not call this living – lying in bed all day, being assured again and again by doll-faced women in white robes that he would soon able to walk again. Right. Sure he would. Just like his arm would magically heal correctly and his ribs would stop aching, and Smellerbee and Longshot would come to see him.

Sure, lady. Whatever.

He knew that last part was his fault, though. Smellerbee and Longshot had been the ones to carry him away from that godforsaken Earth Kingdom pit. At first, they had been the ones who cared for his injuries. As neither of them had and professional training in the art of healing, however, and their friend's condition was growing steadily worse, they had eventually elected to move Jet into an Earth Kingdom hospital. For a time, they visited him there.

Jet, however, did not want them to see him. He was a cripple. They were healthy. Moreover, they were reminders of his past and what could have been his present, if he had just been clever enough to avoid getting hurt.

So he did the only thing he could. He grew snide and bitter, and drove them away.

Really, he later told himself, it had been for the best for him and them. They couldn't possibly have wanted to hang around a cripple like him. They probably wanted to leave, but had been too scared that they would hurt his feelings. He had shown them that he didn't need them sticking around, and – voila! – they left, most likely relieved. Anyhow, if they had really wanted to stay, they would have done so.

Sure, Jet, his conscience whispered. Whatever.

He rolled over in bed and ordered his conscience to politely shut the hell up.

The most astounding thing about this whole ordeal was, really, that life went on without him. The Avatar and his cohorts went on and saved the world, defeating the Fire Lord. Princess Azula was exiled from her kingdom, and her brother took the throne with his queen. A year or so later, the Avatar married the Water Tribe girl named Katara. They and their comrades were proclaimed worldwide heroes, and had a holiday devoted to them.

All this happened while Jet rotted in the hospital.

He hated it. The Fire Nation with a supposedly benevolent king was still the Fire Nation. There were still soldiers out there who had killed innocent people, and – and damn it all if he hadn't known that Zuko was a Firebender. He should have killed him when he had the chance! Why was everyone so content to leave things where they stood, when there was obviously so much left to do?

If he had managed to stay healthy, things would be different. He was positive about that.

"Mister Jet?" A tentative voice sounded from the doorway. It was his nurse, Sumi. She was a pretty girl, formerly of the Fire Nation, and were it not for her nationality Jet suspected that he might have grown to like her.

"Jet?" Sumi asked again. Jet promptly pretended to be asleep. "You have visitors, sir." After a brief silence, she sighed softly. "I know you're awake. Do you want me to send them in?"

"Fine," he mumbled into his pillow. It was probably just those drifters again. Chong, Lily, and…someone. They showed up at the hospital now and again, claiming to spread 'love and peace' to the patients.

"You can come in now," Sumi called to the visitors. She gave Jet a stern look, ordered him to 'be nice' and left, her dark hair fanning out behind her.

Jet sat up with a moan, his body aching in protest to the sudden motion. He turned his head toward the door-

-and froze.

Two women stood there, looking appraisingly at him. Not just any two, women either. They were…damn it, who were they? They certainly looked familiar. The older of the two, a Water Tribe woman with a dark-skinned child on her hip, had large, blue eyes and a gentle half-smile that stirred something strange inside of him. Her brown hair was tied back into a loose braid that hung over one shoulder.

The second woman – Earth Kingdom, by the look of her - looked much more serious. Her arms were folded over the flying boar insignia on her elaborate tunic, and her eyes – a sort of minty, iced-over green – were narrowed in his general direction. Wisps of jet-black hair hung over her face but did not seem to impede her vision.

"Hello," the Water Tribe woman said, inclining her head gracefully. Jet nodded dumbly. He could not, for the life of him, figure out who she was. That was, until the infant in her arms reached up, wrapped its fingers around one of the hair loops that fell over her face, and gave said loop a resounding tug.

"Katara!" Jet exclaimed. Memories came flooding back, hitting him with such force that he was surprised not to have been physically thrown backward.

The Earth Kingdom woman – Toph! That was her name – snorted. "Good work, sharp-shooter. You catch on fast."

Jet frowned at her. His surprise was quickly being replaced by irritation; he had forgotten how truly obnoxious Toph had been the few times he had encountered her. He had always disliked children.

She's not a child anymore. She's probably older than you were when you first met her, his conscience reminded him. He wondered who had given it permission to talk.

Katara shot Toph an exasperated glance, to which the blind Earthbender was totally unreceptive. Looking back at Jet, she smiled again. "Yes, it's me. I'm sorry we haven't visited before now, but everyone's been a little busy since-" Here, she floundered, but not for long. "Since the war and everything. You know how it is."

Jet felt his face harden. His frown deepened, and his eyebrows drew together in a dark line. "No," he spat. "I don't know how it is."

"Well – no, I meant that-" Katara stuttered. She hadn't been expecting anger from him. She had undoubtedly thought their reunion would be all shiny-happy, smiles and hugs all around.

Jet clenched and unclenched his fists under the sheets. His eyes burned with the fervor of verbal combat, something he had long missed. He had learned early on that Sumi refused to trade barbs with him, and he had never been given a roommate for the exact reason of his thirst for conflict. "In case you didn't notice, I've been here while you lived your life with your precious Avatar."

Katara's eyes flashed. "You-" But then, she stopped herself. "I'm sorry," she said. There was no absence of defiance in her voice.

"Don't say sorry to him," Toph snapped. She squared her shoulders and glared at a spot above Jet's head, apparently attempting to stare him down. "Look, buddy, we came here to help you. You want it or not?"

"What kind of help could you give me?"

Katara pursed her lips, apparently still a bit angry but willing to forgive. "You know Waterbenders can heal, right?"

Jet nodded. A large section of the hospital staff was comprised of Waterbenders – although, most of them were young novices and thus not much help.

"I'm an advanced Waterbender. Probably one of the most advanced alive. I've been practicing, and…I think I can make you better, Jet."

Jet froze. "What?"

Toph frowned. "You heard her. You want it or not?"

"Y-yes!"

"Okay," Katara consented. She handed her child to Toph and came to stand by Jet's bedside. Up close, Jet could see how worried she looked. A pang of fear began to twist inside his stomach – it was not a good thing for one's doctor to look worried. Katara reached into the folds of her tunic and drew out a vial of water – "From the Spirit Oasis," she explained, uncorking it. With a deft flick of her wrist, she drew the water out and left it hovering in the air. "Close your eyes. I'm not sure if this will hurt or not."

Jet did so. He did not like leaving himself unguarded – old habits died hard, after all – and he especially did not like the fact that he had practically groveled for Katara's help. But getting healed was getting healed, no matter what he had to do for it. Squinching his eyes shut, he informed Katara that he was ready.

The sensation that came next was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Whether it was more like pain or pleasure, he could not tell – all he knew was that it washed over him in waves, so intense that he was left gasping.

Left gasping…and miraculously unhealed.

What the hell?!

His first reaction was to be angry. Very angry. Why hadn't it worked? He didn't know much about magical Waterbending/healing/whatever, but he knew it was supposed to work. His second reaction was to be even angrier at himself for believing that something so stupid could have succeeded. What was he, five? He had thought that he stopped being that naïve years ago.

Opening one eye, he saw that Katara looked just as confused as he was. She let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I don't know why it didn't work. Let me try again, okay? If there's some water around here…"

There was a moment of silence as Katara concentrated, and then Sumi poked her head in through the door. "Miss Katara? Miss Bei Fong? Visiting hours are ending, I'm afraid. It's time for this patient's medication."

Katara frowned at Sumi, but nodded. "Alright," she said reluctantly. "Look," she told Jet, "I'll be back…soon, okay? I don't know why it didn't work." She picked up her child and exited quickly, seeming agitated. Jet stared after her, both sorry to see her go and glad to be rid of her.

Toph turned to Sumi. "Would you mind if I stayed for a minute?" Sumi pursed her lips, but reluctantly agreed. Once she had gone, Toph rounded on Jet. Her lips were pressed together in a thin, pink line. Her fists were clenched. For a moment he wondered if she was physically going to attack him, but then she pointed at the ground and snapped: "Get up!"

"I can't," he said, irritated.

"Well, just get so your feet are touching the ground, then." Mystified, he did so. Toph's face turned thoughtful for a moment, but then she let out a derisive snort of laughter. "I thought so," she said loudly.

"You thought what?" Jet had though that he could only hate a Fire Nation citizen as much as he currently hated this woman.

"The reason you're not getting better, rebel-boy, is because you don't want to get better. You're wallowing." She enunciated the last word into 'wah-low-eeng.' "You're too stuck on being all gloomy and pathetic to even consider trying to get healthy."

For the briefest of moments, he was taken aback by her boldness – for an even briefer moment, he considered that she was right – but soon he was back on his metaphorical feet and ready to fight. "How do you know that, Miss Earthbender?"

"Because," Toph spat. "I can feel it. If you weren't so busy feeling sorry for yourself, you'd notice that you're healthier than you think. With crutches, you could probably walk. And, anyway, you've got to cooperate for Katara to heal you. That's how it works."

Jet stared, dumbstruck.

"She didn't even want to come here. She doesn't like you. The only reason we came is because Aang said you helped him out a while back, and that he owed you for it. That's all."

For once in his life, Jet had nothing to say. He looked, wide-eyed, at Toph as she stood before him, her shoulders impressively squared. Her eyes were still fixed on the spot directly above his head.

"And," she concluded, "You'd better have pulled yourself together by the time we come back, or so help me."

The Earthbender then left, in what could mildly be called a huff and honestly called a rage. Jet could still do nothing but stare after her. Why did she think she could come in and talk to him like that?

More importantly, did she have a point?

Yes, he admitted to himself, she probably did. Much as he disliked admitting it, he had been wallowing. He was being – what was it that the drifters said? – 'overly emotive.' Moreover, he was probably being very stupid.

Sumi walked in, carrying a cup of pills in one hand and a writing tablet in the other. She set the pills down at his bedside, ordered him to take them, and began scribbling onto the tablet, firing the usual array of 'how are you feeling' questions and the like. Halfway through the routine interrogation, Jet interrupted her.

"Hey, Sumi? You know those – those things that the man across the hall uses? To help him walk?"

"Crutches?" Sumi's quill paused. "What about them?"

"Could you get me some of those?"

"Sure. Why?"

"No reason," he lied. Sumi shrugged, wrote down his request, and exited the room.

Jet leaned back, immensely satisfied with himself. He was going to make some changes. Granted, they were not Fire-Nation-vanquishing changes, but whatever. Any change he could make was fine with him. Was he smarter? No. Was he happier? Maybe. Had he himself changed? Probably not.

But he had decided to stop wallowing, because now he was motivated.

Motivated by the fear of a certain young Earthbender, and the wrath she might incur.