…How lonely life can sometimes be…

It was the first time he had drank tea alone in a while. The liquid was warm, and soothing to his aching heart, but it was no placebo for the sorrow inside of him. Tea could cure many things, but longing was not among them.

And a cup of tea was only as good as the company it was shared with.

Zuko sighed and lifted the small cup to his lips. He consumed the drink in one gulp, and took comfort in its smooth flow down his throat.

The sound of his swallow echoed inside the quiet depths of his mind. Calm and tranquility were many things that tea gave…but it could not give a person everything.

It was the silence that hurt Zuko most. The familiar voice that had always accompanied this small ceremony of leisure and contentment was gone. He knew the day would come and he had prepared for it, and for the most part Zuko had done well for himself, but it was during times such as this, when the world was quiet and the passing of time was a hushing soft brush against the consciousness of one's mind, that he missed that voice the most.

His uncle had always said that the pain of losing someone did not come from knowing that they were gone, but came from the times when you forgot that they were on longer there.

Now, Zuko understood what he had meant.

After looking up multiple times across the table, he found his true loneliness when he remembered that there was no one sitting across from him, to smile at him and congratulate or encourage him, no one but the wind and the hot liquid that mingled with his tears at the pit of his uneasy stomach.

How lonely life could sometimes be. To be alone, and yet never alone, and only realizing this when you are truly alone. There was no crueler irony in life, it seemed, then to not know what you had until it was no longer there.

And yet, as time passed, the tea grew thinner, and Zuko could not help but feel a tired smile stretch across his face. Perhaps it was the warmth, or the uplifting memories from his past, but always, after a comforting cup of ginseng tea, he felt at his side the memorable warmth of someone who had gone ahead of him to another life: someone who had been, and continued to be special, dear, and important to the young man…even now.

"I'm sorry, Uncle." He stated after a long time of peering down into the depths of his teacup. "For a moment, I had forgotten myself."

Letting his final tear fall, Zuko smiled and finished the tea. He smiled as he lifted his gaze to the window of his chamber, which revealed an uncustomary wintry landscape for the Fire Nation. White flakes were still dancing on the wind, silently caressing the castle grounds with a feathery blanket of gentle chill. The sight was…peaceful…

As Zuko enjoyed the calm bliss of this image, he reached for the pot and poured himself another cup.

A cup of tea was only as good as the company you shared it with, after all.

"A cup of tea is only as good as the company you share it with," is actually a personal quote of my own, but I thought I'd give it to Iroh. A friend of mine made me realize something very important the other day, that I never kill my REAL favorite characters, I guess it's the emotional attachment I have to them, but I wanted to take a stab at it, because I have a sinking feeling that Iroh will not live to see the end of the last season...(I sincerely hope I'm wrong though). So as a form of self preperation, and just to try something different...here's my very first "Iroh is dead" fic...it's as close to actually KILLING him as my heart will allow, as I was pretty near tears writing this. (I was listening to the House of Flying Daggers end theme "Lovers" which is quite sad). So, here it is. Reviews are appreciated.

This is short. Because short is sweet, and so are memories. (smiles)