Zuko decides that it's not an unwarranted question.

Unlike her many nonsensical, seemingly incessant inquiries.

"Where's Azula?"

He gazes at her solemnly.

The Kyoshi maquillage does little to mask the very discernible fear. It's obvious in scarlet lines of distress, in the subtlest twitches around pressed lips.

A twinge of regret–perhaps he should have consoled Ty Lee more efficiently before departing. The lasting effects of his younger sister's cruelty had left the deepest imprints on the former acrobat.

But this isn't a conversation Zuko wants to have right now.

The discussion with his mother had stretched into the hours before daybreak, and the journey back had been sleepless. Still, physical exhaustion isn't the incentive for Zuko's reluctance. He had been faced with the most taxing days of his life after ascending to the throne.

No, it's his old adversary, which he still struggles to keep at bay.

"I'm tired, Ty. Maybe later."

Perhaps if he concentrated, the wall-lanterns wouldn't erupt violently.

"I'm sure everything's fine," Suki interjects quietly. "Zuko needs his rest. We can talk about this later."

Zuko wishes fervently that every one of his acquaintances was as agreeable as Suki.

Ty Lee offered no such comfort.

"Zuko, where is she?"

The shadows on the wall begin to stray from their fixed positions. Suki flinches as the flames begin to flare, and edges uncertainly towards Ty Lee.

The chi-blocker takes no notice.

"Ty, please. I've had a very, very long day, and tomorrow's going to be even longer. Can't this wait?"

Thickly painted eyebrows knit together.

"No." For the love of Agni–, "If it wasn't a big deal, you wouldn't be avoiding it. There's something you're not telling us."

Zuko rubs his forehead in exasperation.

Ty Lee is something like a little sibling to him. As such, watching her mature over the course of the past three years made his heart swell. The roundness of her face had dissolved, drawing attention to gracefully defined features, and her once childlike voice had dropped to a feminine pitch Zuko is still unfamiliar with.

But with maturity came awareness.

And Ty Lee's newfound insight presented itself at the worst possible occasions.

"I've told you everything," Zuko lies half-heartedly.

Bistre eyes harden.

For a moment, Ty Lee almost looks like–

"Fine," she hisses in an uncharacteristically vicious tone. She shrugs Suki's beseeching hand off and stalks down the corridor.

What's gotten into her?

Zuko tries to ignore the growing parallels between his assumed sibling and his actual sibling. The root is obvious, as the root of all problems tied to his sister were.

"Ty, wait."

The vague ache at the back of his head gives a nasty throb. His sore joints protest.

The flames subside to a weak flicker.

Zuko exhales deeply and opens the door to his study with some difficulty. At his bodyguards' perplexity, he gestures for Ty Lee to enter.

"Come on."

Maybe Azula was right.

Maybe Zuko's empathy would get him killed.


She follows Lee's slim frame through the marketplace in silence.

In fact, in all the time that she's spent at the village, she's hardly exchanged more than a few words with him, or Gansu, or Sela, or anyone for that matter.

She can't think of what to say.

She waits by the wheelbarrow, watching with suppressed awe as Lee converses with villagers effortlessly.

That merchant is his father's friend–nice fellow, always promises good price–that old lady is a no-good, money-stealing gypsy–she scammed Lee once when he was little–that adolescent is one of his childhood friends–they used to throw eggs at the soldiers who had once occupied the village.

How are you? How are the kids doing? How's the market? Catch anything big lately? When did you say you were heading off to Ba Sing Se?

Where did they get all of this information from? When did they meet? How did they know what to say or how to act? Did someone teach them? Would someone teach her? When?

She wishes that she too, had childhood tales to share and old memories to reminisce. But she doesn't even know when her birthday is, or what her name is supposed to be.

She's just grateful that employment at the Lee Family Pig Farm comes with room and board no strings attached.

Lee comes to a stop a little too abruptly and she barely refrains from ramming the front of the wheelbarrow into his tailbone.

"Is everything all right?"

The ends of his eyebrows pinch together.

"I guess so," Lee replies after a beat.

She follows his gaze to a pamphlet embellished with the Royal Fire Nation seal and understands. The Fire Nation is a sore spot for Lee and his family. Sensu had never returned from the war.

The Earth Kingdom as a whole harbored deep-seated animosity for the Fire Nation, despite all the efforts of the new enlightened monarch. In spite of the seemingly endless reparations–the reconstruction, the favorable trade, the agricultural shipments–villagers still eyed passing Fire Nation travelers disdainfully.

She doesn't remember the war, so she can't say. She supposes the Fire Nation must be evil, if everyone thinks so.

That night, she dreams of lightning and cerulean flames.


A/N: More development (and length) in the coming chapters, I promise.