A/N: Hi! Any ideas as to if I should continue or call it a day would be great. I secretly love the idea of this pairing (alongside Makorra), even though I know (unlike Makorra) it will probably never happen and Michael and Bryan like to torment us . :c

Air Temple Island was in a state of complete disarray after the attack by the Equalists. Team Avatar had been enlisted in clearing up the mess, somehow simultaneously being required to clean the interior of the temple to contemplate their deeds. The reality of their still being teenagers had struck instantly.

Aiding the lowest acolytes in their menial responsibilities was becoming more of a recurrence, especially near the occasions when the acolytes would find themselves with more tasks due to the Team's destructive ways.

With the sun setting, Asami found herself lugging a mop and bucket throughout the few guest rooms of the east wings, marveling at the simplicity of such a claimed wing from her former-heiress's perspective. She supposed that Korra would have her cleaning duties finished after she herself had barely finished the first room. She would not allow herself to envy benders anymore, not after seeing how it twisted the Equalists to fear.

Clattering her way into one of the rooms, she felt wholly like one of the maids from her father's estate, all downcast eyes and disheveled hair. Some unmoving figure was laid out on the bed; the room was not as unoccupied as she had assumed.
"Oh, I-I'm sorry," Asami began, fumbling with her mop and bucket to exit back into the hallway, "I was unaware that this room was taken."

The figure lifted its head to gaze at her, shuddering as if the movement took him all his strength to do so. She felt her cheeks redden from the embarrassment of it all.
"General Iroh," she quickly lowered her head in a shallow bow of respect. "I'm sorry to disturb you, I'll be right out of-"
"The acolytes have begun dressing strangely, indeed." He murmured, his head falling back to the modest pillow.
"I-I'm sorry?" Asami murmured, cursing as she dropped her mop. What was wrong with her?

It was usually her who had this effect on people, especially on men. The sensation reminded of the one time she drank too much wine at one of her father's formal suppers.

"Forgive me, I must have hit my head in the battle; I don't recall seeing any acolyte so beautiful."
Asami barely blushed at that; she was used to such comments from men of all ranks, and had come to expect comments as such from the men she associated with. She found herself crossing to his bedside, abandoning her equipment and allowing her eyes to drift down to the man's lightly bandaged head.

She tried to invoke Korra in some natural-born healer sense, placing a tentative right hand lightly on the man's bandages. Her eyes lingered there, noting the black hair protruding from underneath the bandages, the tidy features, and the bare chest. Spirits. She had not noticed until this moment, even in their close proximity. That caused her to blush.
"Perhaps I have a concussion." Iroh stated, eyes flitting open to gaze up at her.

Asami shook her head, black tresses flowing around her head as she did so. She noted that her hand had slipped to test his forehead for temperature, and went to withdraw it quickly. Iroh seized it before she could return it to her side, clutching it for dear life. Asami attempted to pull it away, not yet recovered from her recent breakup with Mako and unwilling to give her heart away so foolishly and without hesitation. This unfamiliar man would not let go, clutching her hand tightly.

"You're going to be fine," Asami breathed, trying to stop herself from contemplating the emotion building within her, "you're in safe hands."
He murmured his agreement, smiling into the pale flesh of her hand.
"Just try and get some-" Asami started. Her voice had failed her, burning out to cinders when he had placed a gentle kiss on her hand. She had received such gestures in the past, but none as chaste and kind as this. Surely, the man was delirious. "-rest."
It seemed as if he had already complied, allowing her to slip back her hand and swiftly exit the room, mop and bucket once more in hand.

Asami was fixing herself an early breakfast in the kitchen of the main building on Air Temple Island, unable to sleep once again. Closing her eyes at night only brought flashes to her mind of her father's betrayal. A deeper, more underlying betrayal that she would not name to herself lurked, flashing to her mind as it would as the fond memories of her time with Mako reacquainted themselves with her trembling sanity.

The plain noodles she had quickly put together had never looked more unappealing to her. She was not used to a modest, vegetarian diet.

Asami fumbled for her bowl as she collided with someone, seeing her would-be breakfast splatter onto the newly-cleaned floor. Crap.
"I'm so sorry!" A low voice offered, attempting to stoop to help her. She lifted her gaze, seeing limping and sorrowful General Iroh in the doorway. "You're the girl who helped us escape prison."

Asami watched his pitiful attempt to stoop to help her despite his heavy reliance on a crutch for his left side. He was still in his state of undress as he had been before, only wearing his uniform Forces trousers from the battle. She tried not to stare at him so.
"No harm done." Asami smiled, trying to pass him to avoid the topic of her father.
"Hey, uh, this is going to sound odd, but," he paused for a moment, allowing her to brace herself for the inquisition into her family history, "you didn't, uh, visit me last night, did you?"
"That is such a bad attempt at a pick-up line," Asami laughed, unable to stop herself as she said it, "I think I know how it's really supposed to go."
"So you've heard it a lot?" He said, his gaze low under his lowered head, eyes meeting hers as she returned to her full height with the broken bowl in hand.
"I-" Asami began. She would wager the shock on her face was evident from having a general of the United Forces return her misguided flirtations. Perhaps it showed as a horror of sorts.
"I'm sorry, that was hardly appropriate," Iroh began to mutter, "I'll just be getting swallowed up by the ground now."

He had begun to sway on his crutch, well in danger of seriously injuring himself.
"Hey, be careful!" Asami called, catching his right arm and hooking her hand through it. It was too late when she realized their close contact, feeling his warm skin on her sleeved arm. She met his eyes momentarily, stifling a gulp as she felt some once-familiar emotion stir at her heart. "Come on, let's get back you back to bed."

Those words do not have a double meaning, Asami told herself. They do not. She tried to be as professional as a battle-field medic as she led him back to his room.
"Can you manage getting back in there?" Asami said outside his door, gesturing to it.
"I think I can." Iroh grinned, taking back his arm tentatively.
"Oh, to answer your question from before," Asami began, holding a hand up to him, "I did visit you, I only meant to clean the rooms, you see..."
"Really? Hmm, thank you." Iroh said, as if this was a great shock. Their eyes drifted on one other momentarily, unsure in their gaze. "So you're living on the island?"
"Yes, I suppose I am." Asami tried to smile gently. She still mentally called herself a fool to be so eager to become attached to another so quickly. A firebender, too. That was some joke from the spirits, surely.
"I guess I'll see you around." He grinned (she honestly wished he would stop doing that to her), and departed into the depths of his room, leaving her confused and alone once more.