A/N - WARNING: This one-shot is based off of the Richard Shindell song, "I Saw My Youth Today" I would suggest listening to that song (LISTENING, not just looking up lyrics!) before reading this fic. It's a really pretty song, and it adds to the story if you know the tune and everything.
DISCLAIMER: I own neither the show "Avatar: The Last Airbender," nor the song, "I Saw My Youth Today," but I absolutely love both!
WARNING: Both the song and the fic are really pretty, but VERY sad! T_T
SETTING: Takes place long after the series has ended, from Zuko's point of view. He had passed the title of Fire Lord on to Iroh as a gift fifteen years ago, so that Zuko would have more time to spend with his wife. He and Mai had a son ten years ago, but Mai left Zuko, with the boy, four years ago. (Ergo, Zuko only knew the boy until he was six, and he's ten now.) Now, Zuko walks alone through a crowded street in the Fire Nation.
NOTICE: Italicized words are lyrics of the song, not part of the fic.
"I saw my youth today.
He passed me in the street.
As he walked by I stood frozen
On my dreaming feet.
He had a kinder face;
The kind Ive learned to hide
Behind these cold unyielding stones
That used to be my eyes"
I stopped dead in my tracks as the boy walked by. There he was: dark shaggy hair like his father; beautiful hazel eyes like his mother. The eyes did not have the gloom of Mai's, nor the anger of mine, but a new trait: innocent curiosity. However, as I found, that innocence could quickly and easily become fear.
"A moment please my boy.
Don't you know my name?
Do you remember when
We used to play a hundred games?"
"A moment, please, my boy." I choked, barely regained my ability to move or speak.
The boy looked at me with that innocence. "Yes, mister?" My heart sank at the formality he used. He didn't remember.
"Don't you know my name?" I asked, tried to hide the useless hope.
My son looked at me strangely. He shook his head. "Why? Have I met you somewhere?"
"Do you remember...when we used to play...a hundred games?" I said, struggling with what I could say so that he would remember me.
"Remember that old troll
That lived inside the tree?
He was never dangerous;
Thats just the way it seemed.
The day you climbed the tree,
And ran to show me how.
The troll was never seen again.
So where could he be now?"
"When did we used to play? I don't even know you!" he asked, growing slightly nervous. My head screamed, 'Yes, son! Yes, you do know me!' But I couldn't say that to the boy. I had to say...something. Something...that would prove he knew me. Once I could get him to remember that much, I could get him to believe I was his father. But...what?
"...Remember that 'old troll'?" I asked suddenly, "That lived inside the tree?"
The boy nodded warily. "How do you know about him?"
I sighed and said wistfully, lost in long-forgotten memories, "He was never dangerous...That's just the way it seemed."
"Yeah..." the boy said. His voice grew stronger; I don't know whether it was from fear or memory. So, I continued.
"...The day you climbed the tree..." My son nodded, and smiled slightly. "...And ran to show me how."
I didn't notice in my reminiscing, but he faltered fearfully at the mention of me in his past. However, I was still going, "The troll was never seen again. So...where could he be now?"
"A moment please my boy
Dont you know this face?
Do you remember when
I used to let you win the races?"
"Don't you know this face?" I said desperately, looking at him, "Do you remember when I used to let you win the races?"
At this, boy was now very scared. "I-...No! Now...leave me alone!" he said, backing away. He turned to run from me.
"Please dont run away
I did not mean to scare you
I'm the one who taught you
You should never talk to strangers"
"Please!" I said, reaching down a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Don't run away!" My son turned back to me. He looked confused and afraid, but he did not try to free himself.
"I did not mean to scare you." I said apologetically. I kneeled next to him, and took my hand off his shoulder. I chuckled slightly and said, "I'm the one who taught you, you should never talk to strangers."
"Is your mother well?
Kiss her once for me
If she should ask you why
Well you could say
Just for no reason"
The boy was calm now. He looked at me, again with that innocent curiosity. But now there was confusion, and a slight pain, in his gaze. "Who are you?" he asked simply. He had the absolute right to know. However...if he did...he would be afraid again. It would surprise him and scare him. As far as he remembered, he knew of no father that he had ever had. ...I could not tell him. Not only would the boy fear me, his mother would hate me even more. I never knew what I had done to make Mai leave me, but she did. I was sad that she was so angry at me for...something. If I scared this boy with the thought of a father he never knew of, Mai would hate me even more.
Instead, I asked him quietly, "Is your mother well?" Without waiting for an answer, I murmured, "Kiss her once, for me. If she should ask you why...well you could say...just for no reason."
And with that, I stood up, and left the boy. If I stayed with him any longer, I would do more harm than good. In fact...I may have done so already.
The boy went home after that, not speaking, not browsing at the stores he usually would spend so much time in. He went directly home, walked right up to his mother. He kissed her with a confused, almost melancholy, obedience.
Mai smiled and asked him, "What was that for?"
"...Just...for no reason..." the little boy said slowly, not looking up at his mother.
The woman looked at her son with concern. "Is everything alright?"
The boy now looked up at her. "I talked to a man. He told me to kiss you for him. I-...I don't know why...but I wanted to do it for him." He sighed and looked back down at the floor, "He seemed so sad for some reason."
"...What did he look like?"
The boy looked at her again. "He had dark shaggy hair...like mine. And he had a huge scar over his eye."
"..."
A tear rolled down her cheek.
Zuko woke suddenly in the dark alleyway he now called home. He lay there, head and torso propped up by his arm, thinking about his hazy dream. Then he dropped his head back onto the little pile of straw that was his pillow, and cried himself back to sleep.