My First Avatar AU! ;D What does that stand for anyway?

Bridges

By Caspre

"Where'd you think he got the scar?"

"I heard he was in a gang fight."

"No- he was caught in a terrorist bombing attack."

"Are you nuts? I heard he got branded."

"S'a pretty weird brand don't you think?"

Despite the comments that his new classmates should really have kept to themselves at such a close proximity to him, Zuko smiled bitterly. They were weak attempts at guessing how he'd got his scar. He was surprised so many rumors had spread so fast; he had only been at this new school for a few days. He wasn't liking it so far.

He had been split up from his girlfriend, his home, and his friends. Now he was shacking up with his uncle, who ran a little café. His father found this disgraceful- he'd once been in the army alongside him, high up too, but things just got too tough when he lost his son in the war.

Zuko wasn't enjoying his new life with his uncle at all. He was sleeping on a futon in the lounge, in an apartment that had only one bathroom with a kitchen joined to the living room. But there was something about living with his uncle that calmed him…he had a restful, relaxed auror about him. But Zuko didn't believe in aurors. He'd had enough of that from his sister's dippy friend.

"…So Katara are you coming over tonight?" In front of him as the whole school body filed into the assembly hall for a lecture from the Principal, was a wiry kid, who had a springy frame and bright eyes. He looked eager as he bounced along side the girl. She had a kind face and seasoned skin. She shook her head in response. The boy's face fell like a leaf in autumn.

"I've got Tai Chi." She explained, tucking a loose bit of hair behind her delicate ear.

"Oh- I've got Ba Gua." He remembered suddenly, "Well thanks for the reminder in any case." He gave a wide smile.

They both did Martial Arts? Zuko himself was experienced at Kung Fu. But not as much as his father was…Zuko noticed a cold draught as he took his seat- but maybe it was just him.

As the Principal launched into his speech with a delightful monotone, Zuko couldn't help drifting off, wandering to a place in his mind where he felt OK. Memories of Mai...

"You know, you're meant to eat the Duck, not feel sorry for it." Mai reminds him, as he pokes warily at the freshly cooked dinner. She's cooked it herself, just for their night in together, but he still can't get around the fact that he'd wished she'd never bothered. But like he was going to tell her that neither he nor his stomach agreed with her cooking- she was pretty good with a stiletto. However, not even the fear of thousands of welts on his skin helps him with the knowledge that soon enough, he'll have to eat this plate of food, with too much pepper and too little gravy after it had been sitting in the oven a good twenty minutes over the recommended time.

"Urm…yeah, I feel sorry for it." He says hurriedly, grasping this opportunity to get out of the sticky situation that was looming overhead.

"You know, you're not like this with my Mom's chicken." She says suspiciously.

"Ducks are cuter." He insists. She watches him with a hard expression, her fork poised in her hand, halfway between plate and mouth.

"Just shut up and eat it." She says finally. He sighs and shovels in a mouthful, keeping his expression clear with award-winning effort. He wonders why it took just one sentence to get him to do something he didn't want to. Only his father usually holds that power over him. But he knows that Mai does it with something else other than fear.

--

Zuko is jolted out of his daydream by a nasty surprise.

"…new student, Zuko Iazo. Zuko, would you like to stand up?" A question that wasn't a question…

He had to be kidding. What was wrong with this man? Zuko wondered if he should just stay seated, and wait for the Principal to give up, but he was looking right at him.

His heart beating wildly, but his expression calm, Zuko rose from his seat and bore the whole student body's stare.

"We'll make sure you feel welcome, Zuko." The Principal made his empty promise, and Zuko sat down, but not before hearing whispers as sharp as knives. What did he expect?

--

"I said GET UP, you son of a bi-"

"I'm up." Zuko insists, sitting up and adjusting to the new day. But he isn't given any warning as he receives a heavy blow to the back of his head. His father is towering above him, half dressed in his uniform, his trousers and vest top on, but his feet bare.

"What the hell have you done with my socks, you dumb fuck?"

"I washed them and put them in your drawer."

"Lying little shit!" And he strikes again, this time to the chest. Zuko is winded and falls off the side of his bed, "Fucking weakling." His father spits, "Make me some breakfast."

He leaves a deafening silence behind him as he slams out of Zuko's bedroom. As he sits up, he struggles to breathe.

A little later, he finds all his father's socks, crammed behind the dryer, because sometimes, he just needs an excuse to hurt.

--

"Zuko? Are you going to get up?"

"I'm up." Zuko insisted, bolting off the futon and watching the stars that dot his vision as he received a head rush.

"I didn't mean now exactly," His uncle said in surprise, crossing the room to the kitchen, "Would you like some breakfast? I rolled your socks- they're fresh from the dryer!" He motioned to the neat little pile of socks, still crisp and warm. Zuko laid a hand on them, trying to figure out what was happening.

"Are you going to tell me about your first day now?"

"It was fine." In actual fact, it wasn't. He received a few comments from a couple of dickheads about his clothes, his hair, his scar, his walk, his everything. God forbid he should just be left alone being him. He got a few sympathetic glances as well, but even those people weren't stupid enough to approach him.

"Well, I made your lunch." Iroh smiled at him, but it faded to nothing as he rested his hand on his shoulder, "Have a good day, Zuko."

Zuko never knew that such a throw-away expression could be weighed down with so much longing.

He didn't reply as he grabbed his bag and left the apartment, leaving his lunch behind.

--