Dragons & Lotuses

Description: Sokka is an undercover cop for the L.A.P.D., trying his best to infiltrate the notorious White Lotus Society yakuza. While his plans have always been to take the yakuza down, will he eventually take his artificial oaths of loyalty to heart?

Rating: This story is rated T, but may move to M for future mature situations, sex, violence, and/or language.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Avatar: The Last Airbender" or anything associated with it. This story is for amusement purposes only—so I hope you're amused!


Chapter 3: The Healer

"I don't wanna kill you, I wanna help you."

- Jules in Pulp Fiction

As soon as Toph heard the sirens, she reluctantly left Sokka's side to greet the paramedics at the front door. For the time being, Sokka was breathing raggedly, but at least he was conscious.

Meeting them at the curb, the ambulance's lights illuminated the dark street, as she put one hand on her hip while she jerked her thumb towards the establishment. "He's in the back of the restaurant. I gave him an EpiPen shot, so I think he's stable for the time being. Just follow me."

The two men simply looked at each other, nodded, and followed the smaller woman inside, gurney in tow. As they wove their way through the crowded restaurant, the diners would pause momentarily to watch them walk past. When they arrived at the private room, Sokka was seated in a chair, his shirt half-buttoned as he gulped down a glass of water. He was speaking in low tones to Zuko and Iroh, assuring them that he was now fine, and could they please pass him some roast duck? Unsure of what had caused his allergic reaction, they did their best to keep Sokka from the object of his desire.

Pointing at him, Toph introduced the paramedics to their patient, "That's him in the chair. I'll be right back." She stepped aside quickly so that the medics could enter and attend to the young man.

"How are you feeling, sir? We understand you had an allergic reaction," a young man with long dark hair queried. His eyes were kind as he wore a gentle smile – he was the type that required almost no effort to trust.

"I'm okay, I guess," he admitted sheepishly. "Guess I was allergic to something," Sokka acknowledged with a small shrug.

This time, the taller, bushy-haired paramedic spoke, "Well, guess it's a good thing that the restaurant had an EpiPen on hand. Let's check your vitals though real quick, okay?"

Sokka nodded and acquiesced to their ministrations. As they checked his breathing and his blood pressure, which was still somewhat low, the other guests in the room returned to their meals and light conversation. Well, almost all the other guests – Iroh and Zuko sat at Sokka's side as Jun did her best to distract Ty Lee from the distressing situation.

Pulling the stethoscope off, the long-haired medic shook his head, his hair shaking gracefully about. "Sir, since your blood pressure's still low, I think you should go to the E.R."

Sokka furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, before becoming slightly nervous. "Uh, look guys, I'm okay," he said, taking a few obvious deep breaths as if trying to convince them of his strong health. "See, breathing just fine now. I'm sure the blood pressure thing will just clear up!" He pasted on what he assumed was a beaming smile of health, but really looked like an awkward cross between a grimace of torture and a crooked smile.

Unfortunately for Sokka, the medics weren't convinced and this time, the bushy-haired one spoke, "Look buddy, I understand you might be feeling great now, but your reaction hasn't entirely cleared up. Now, would you rather be safe or sorry?" He paused, noting his patient's company, before smirking. "Besides, I think your lady friend over there would like you to head to the hospital, wouldn't you sweetie?" he finished, inclining his head in Ty Lee's direction.

At the mention of "lady friend," Ty Lee tore her attention away from Jun. Nodding eagerly, she agreed with the paramedic. "If they say you should go, you should go, Sokka. Just in case…"

At this point, Toph re-entered the room, an annoyed look on her face. "Well, no idea what might have set you off, Snoozles, nothing different about the food, either. It's the same old, same old. I guess it's a good thing we always have an EpiPen on hand," she said with a sigh. "Anyway, get lost and go to the hospital, Sokka. Have a doctor check you out or something," she said with a flippant wave of her hand, like she was shooing away an annoying pest.

"Now, I think everyone's over-reacting here," tried Sokka, putting up his hands to fend the advisors off. "I don't need to go to the hospital, okay? So, can everyone just let it go? Look, all that roast duck is just going to waste sitting there!" Sokka implored, hoping that everyone would just stop insisting. He knew he didn't need the kind of help he would get at the nearest hospital. He really, really didn't need what could be waiting for him there, either.

Clearing his throat, Iroh gave Sokka a serious look, "I think you should go, Sokka." As the young man began to argue, Iroh put his hand up. "This is not up for discussion; you're going." Looking at his nephew, he addressed him, "And Zuko is going with you—"

"Uncle, I don't think that's necessary—"

Narrowing his eyes, the old man cut off his nephew, "I didn't ask if it was necessary, Zuko. It's an order. Now, both of you, go."

"Looks like you're getting on the gurney, buddy," the bushy-haired paramedic grinned as he patted the piece of equipment at his side.

Grumbling to himself, Sokka picked up his jacket as he hopped up onto the gurney. "This is humiliating." He tried to swipe a few treats off the table as he went, but Iroh slapped his hand – and the potentially dangerous food – away.

"Then just consider it another part of your initiation, kobun," the bearded gentleman said with a concerned look as they wheeled Sokka out of the small dining area.

Sokka protested the indignity loudly the whole way, causing Iroh to chuckle slightly and reminding the older man of youth's independence and obstinacy. Sokka just wanted to keep up with the party, not be held back by a possible injury. He needed to learn to take care of himself, now that he was part of something bigger than himself… Someone could depend on him later, and if he wasn't in top form, it could lead to problems for more than just himself.

"While a chair will stand with three legs, it is more stable with four," Iroh sighed to himself. He recalled the image of a low table and something stirred within him.

A split-second later, Iroh jumped to his feet without warning and rushed to the door to catch the group of hospital-bound men.

"Oh, and he might have a head injury – he hit his head earlier! There could be something wrong with him, maybe some brain damage!" he called after the departing group, his own words reminding him of Sokka's over-enthusiastic bow-turned-headbang incident with the tabletop earlier that night.

"I think that's a permanent thing, Iroh," quipped Toph, as she leaned against a nearby wall, listening to the group depart the restaurant. In the distance, she heard Sokka groan in embarrassment at Iroh's words. "Ain't nothing can help that guy with that…"

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Sokka was silent all the way to the hospital. He knew where they would be taking him – Mercy Hospital, just west of downtown. It was the closest, and since he didn't technically have medical insurance—unless you count a very rich oyabun—it would be the only place within miles that would take him in.

He quietly prayed, hoping against all hope that she wouldn't be working. There was a strong possibility that she wasn't; he convinced himself that she could have the night off, or perhaps she wasn't working there anymore. But it might have been too much for him to hope for. Not only had he not seen her in months, he already knew what her reaction would be to him showing up.

To be honest, there would most likely be shouting, name-calling, and, of course, her questions as to what he'd been up to, and who the hell Zuko was. He glanced furtively at his "brother," briefly wondering how he was supposed to explain him. Hell, Zuko practically screamed mobster—black pinstripe suit, ever-present scowl, and the bright red scar that bloomed across his face. Suffice it to say, Sokka knew this trip had the distinct potential to become an undeniablyunpleasant experience. Then again, ambulance rides tended towards that trend…

Sokka glanced up with dread as the emergency vehicle stopped; they had pulled up to the E.R. The doors to the back compartment of the ambulance swung open, revealing the long-haired driver. "Looks like we're here, fellas," the bushy-haired paramedic stated with a wry grin as he hopped out.

They pulled out Sokka and his gurney, while Zuko stepped out of the vehicle carefully after him. The scarred man eyed the entrance to the E.R. warily. He hadn't been near a hospital for years and was not looking forward to escorting his brother. He silently cursed his uncle's order to accompany the new initiate, even though he knew it was his duty as the younger man's elder brother.

As they walked—or in Sokka's case, wheeled—towards the entrance, a nurse dressed in sky-blue scrubs ran out to greet them. She was a trim and tan young woman, her wavy, dark chestnut hair pulled back into a neat French braid. Thankfully, she didn't immediately recognize the patient, as his face was currently obscured by an oxygen mask.

"Hey Haru, hey Jet!" She smiled broadly as the young men pushed the gurney into the hospital.

"Hey Katara!" they answered together. While the bushy-haired brunette shook his head and smiled at their child-like and unplanned response, the long-haired one turned his head and blushed. Noticing their undue attention to his sister, Sokka's eyes squinted in suspicion. He wondered just how friendly these paramedics were with his sister.

"So, what have we got here?" she asked honestly as the bushy-haired brunette named Jet handed her a clipboard. The group came to a stop as Katara quickly scanned through the patient's chart, just inside the entrance of the hospital.

"Ah, anaphylactic shock, Mr…. Dimagiba—? " her bright aqua blue eyes widened as she read the name on the form, then squinted as she looked at the patient. Once she recognized him, her look instantly became a glare as she realized the man on the gurney was her brother. If she'd had hand-cuffs, Sokka had the feeling she'd have whipped them out and locked him to his gurney to keep him from fleeing. Instead, she kept a death grip on her clipboard, clutching desperately at her professionalism. "Long time, no see, Sokka. So nice of you to visit…When I'm done checking you out, you've got some serious explaining to do." Her voice was humorless and hard-edged, leaving no room for argument; her eyes squinted in a motherly combination of anger, frustration, and concern.

Upon hearing Katara addressing the patient directly, the eyes of all three nearby men went wide. How exactly did she know this guy and why did she sound so…pissed? Even Zuko was surprised at her tone. He briefly wondered if she was an ex-girlfriend. Of course, Zuko had just spent the past hour watching Sokka flirt with Ty Lee. Maybe he was the type to leave angry ex-girlfriends in his wake? He supposed he still had quite a bit to learn about – or be subjected to, thanks to – his new 'family.'

Before Katara's stare burned a hole into Sokka's face, Jet eased into the conversation as gently as possible, cutting through the tension the only way he knew how—by changing the subject abruptly. To himself.

"So, uh, Katara we still on for dinner later this week?"

Tearing her gaze from her brother and smiling as brightly as she could, "Of course, Jet. Tuesday, right?"

"Yeah, Tuesday," he said, flashing his trademark smile at his successful attempt at brightening her face. "Lemme know if there's anywhere special you want to go, 'kay?"

Nodding, it didn't take long for Katara to turn her attention back to the young man before her. As they stood there for a moment in the hallway, her angry and irritated voice cut through the silence.

"Don't you think it's a little unnecessary for you to be on a gurney, Sokka? They're for the real patients."

She stood there for a moment, tapping her foot, one hand on her hip as the other clutched the clipboard to her chest. Not wanting her to yell at him, the tanned man quickly complied.

"S'pose it is, huh?" Sokka replied earnestly. He took off the oxygen mask and ungracefully jumped off of the gurney, proffering it to the nearby paramedics. "Uh, thanks for the ride, I guess."

"No problem—it's kind of our job," Jet replied smoothly. Turning to Katara, he smiled, one eyebrow raised, as he said his goodbye, "Well, I guess I'll see you Tuesday, then." He then gave a small wave and turned to exit the hospital. Katara couldn't help but return it in kind as the pair of handsome paramedics walked away.

To his credit, Sokka stayed quiet during the exchange, despite his irritation at this brazen Jet character. What was his sister doing dating Jet anyway? It could have been his distrust of all men when it came to his sister or possibly some lingering indigestion, but something in Sokka's gut didn't sit right at the thought of his baby sister going out on a date with the bushy-haired EMT. However unhappy he was with the arrangement, though, he knew this wasn't the time or place to voice such thoughts, so he simply kept his mouth shut.

For her part, Katara did her best to memorize the list of colorful words that she'd share with her brother once they were alone and conceded to simply shoot angry glares at Sokka from time to time as she escorted him through the E.R.

Zuko watched the interaction out of the corner of his eye, for all intents and purposes appearing bored to anyone else, but observing the pair keenly. He knew his partner was a talker—compared to him anyway—and was instantly surprised at the younger man's willingness to keep his mouth shut. Who was this woman to Sokka? What unseen power did she lord over him? To say the least, Zuko was intrigued.

Admittedly, it was entertaining to watch the attractive nurse seethe at his 'brother,' Zuko thought to himself with an inner smirk. He probably wouldn't admit it if asked, but he liked the streak of independence characteristic of American women—in his opinion, all the women he had met in Japan seemed like pushovers or a little too eager to please for some reason. Even Mai, under her dull tone and serious demeanor, seemed complacent to him. She had carried out Azula's commands each and every time, despite his personal protestations otherwise. But that was most likely out of fear for her personal safety and begrudging her lifelong friend. Otherwise, there was nothing Mai denied him.

Then again, maybe it wasn't so much what women were really like, but how they reacted to him and his position as the son of a powerful yakuza boss; his position as heir to the Red Dragons did give him quite a bit of clout in Tokyo. But the way this woman carried herself, Zuko could think of nothing to compare her to except for a breath of fresh air, or maybe a splash of cool water—her confident behavior was refreshing in its own way, he quickly realized.

But as they followed her down the hospital corridor, Zuko trailed at the end of the threesome, increasingly lost in his thoughts as his eyes occasionally darted back and forth, scanning the area for any danger out of habit. He was always on alert and, even though there was no threat to their safety, he found himself subconsciously eyeing the area, just in case.

The hallway seemed endless; at each step, Zuko was reminded of all the things he hated about being in a hospital. So deep was his discomfort with his present environment, Zuko was able to mentally list all the things he hated about hospitals: the antiseptic, yet slightly urine-tainted smell; the unflattering fluorescent lighting; even the sound of the nurse's shoes squeaking across the linoleum flooring made the list. The list was very long. He'd had a lot of time to consider it, some time ago.

Ever since his accident, the one that had scarred his face, he'd hated hospitals. Thinking about what had happened all those years ago, Zuko's fingertips subconsciously grazed over the edge of the scar covering the left side of his face before he caught himself and covertly ran his fingers though his short black locks. Katara and Sokka got even further ahead of him as he stayed back. Their voices trailed off altogether.

He remembered it clearly…They had just left his parents' compound; he was driving with his mother in the passenger seat. At the time, his father had been experiencing troubles with some of the other yakuza groups; in fact, his father had received death threats. So, dutiful son that he was, Zuko escorted her on her weekly shopping trip. He'd always been that kind of son—he wanted nothing but to protect his mother, just as she had done when he was a boy.

They had just pulled out of the parking garage underneath their building. As the windows of the car were tinted, the attackers couldn't tell whether or not Ozai was in the vehicle. All Zuko remembered was the sound of a brick shattering the windshield and the Molotov cocktail that followed it, then the immediate and intense pain as they veered off the road and crashed into the guardrail, and the sickening smell of seared flesh; in fact, it was the smell of his own skin and muscle tissue burning off. Survival instincts and adrenaline had taken over, and he'd pulled himself out of the car and passed out on the nearby sidewalk.

Unfortunately, his mother wasn't so lucky. She had been knocked out upon impact when Zuko had lost control of the car and, thankfully, had died of smoke inhalation as the car burned. Thankfully, because the only comfort offered, small as it was, was the fact that she hadn't burned alive as the vehicle was consumed in flames.

Her death emotionally devastated him. It was days before he woke up and learned of it, though. He spent weeks in the hospital thereafter, recovering from the disfiguring burn on his face, being told how lucky he was to have survived; how lucky he was to be able to see out of his left eye. Every extended moment of his stay, he grew to hate his environment even more, seeing it as a personal prison, incubating his growing shame at not being able to protect the person that meant the most to him in the world—his mother.

And now, now that he was back in the germ-free, starkly lit hallways of a hospital, all the emotions from those weeks flooded back into his consciousness. He grimaced at the thought of having to spend the next few hours in a place that only brought thoughts of death to him; a place that held dark memories and only served to remind him of his reason for leaving Japan, for leaving his old life behind and all the emotional baggage that came with it.

As they turned a corner, Zuko pulled up abruptly and tore himself away from the morbid parade of memories.

They had been escorted into a small exam room. Sokka took a seat on the exam table while Zuko stood off to the side, attempting to relax for a moment. That is, until Sokka's younger sister spoke.

"So, what exactly did you eat, smart guy?" she said, raising one eyebrow as she stared down at her older brother. Her lips were pursed as if she stood ready to berate any response he gave. When he didn't reply, she filled in the silence for him. "Oh no, I bet you'd already cleared half the table before you noticed you'd started choking to death! Geez…"

Of course, Zuko couldn't help but chuckle in response—he didn't even know this woman and he already liked her. Anyone that could speak to Sokka like that deserved at least his respect. But he noticed something else—thinly veiled concern. Maybe it was the momentary softening of her eyes, or how her voice trailed off, but Zuko knew that, for some reason, this woman cared for his brother. After a few glances back and forth, Zuko realized how much the two looked alike—the same bright blue eyes, caramel-colored skin, and dark brown hair were a dead giveaway—and he guessed that they were somehow related.

Eyeing the strange man chuckling under his breath, Katara redirected her glare at him. "And who are you? Usually, patients are only accompanied by their family." She looked him up and down, her fiery sapphire eyes appraising him quickly. "And you sure as hell don't look like family."

"What's it to you? If he doesn't mind me being here, then I can be here," Zuko replied haughtily and with a slight sneer. He instantly decided that there was plenty to not like about this young woman, too, no matter how entertaining her prior interaction with Sokka may have been.

"Don't talk to me like that—I'm not some bimbo that you can talk down to. I'm part of the medical staff at this hospital and my first priority is my patient – and there is this tiny little thing we medical professionals like to call 'patient privacy.' Or maybe an idiot thug like you has never heard of that," she retorted, one hand on her hip as her free index finger poked Zuko square in the chest. She stood as tall and as menacingly as possible, high on her tiptoes to glare at Zuko eye to eye.

To an innocent bystander, the interaction was insanely humorous, but to Sokka it was a potential World War III between his younger, emotionally volatile sister and his quick-to-anger older brother. Their antagonistic interplay was like a creeping barrage over an open field, laying the groundwork to develop into a full-frontal assault. Zuko's eyes squinted in frustration as he puffed his chest to retort, but Sokka cut him off quickly.

"Uh, Katara, this is Zuko…Zuko this is Katara…" Sokka cut in nervously as he physically jumped in between the two. Normally, Katara wouldn't have let it go at that, but Sokka was giving her "the look." It was a silent request, a particular look to their eyes that they had given each other often as children. When they were unwilling to share something with their social worker, or were trying to not get in trouble with Gran-Gran, they had used "the look" to silently communicate that nothing else should be said. Of course, in that inherent request was also the understanding that it could, and would, be discussed at a later date.

Gritting her teeth in understanding, Katara swallowed her pride. "Nice to meet you, Zuko," she automatically answered as she turned away and glanced down at Sokka's chart. Zuko stayed silent, but his eyebrows raised themselves, questioning her sudden change in demeanor. As Sokka moved back to the exam table, Katara thoughtfully leaned against the cabinet, her hip resting along its lip. Not skipping a beat, she changed the subject. "So, what exactly happened?"

"Well, I've been going to this awesome Chinese restaurant for months now and I guess there was something I ate that didn't agree with me. We were out to dinner with our boss. So, whatever it was, it got me. So, here I am…" he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. "Can you just give me the all clear? Please?"

Rolling her eyes, she threw her brother a concerned look, "I guess that'll teach you to eat the way you do…Although, I suppose you were 'starving' like always," her fingers hooked in the still air, punctuating her sarcasm. As she made her small joke, her sapphire eyes seemed a little brighter and less tired and angry as she smiled at her older brother. She had missed this—their easy banter and his presence. It had been too long, she quickly decided. "Did you eat or drink anything out of the ordinary? Anything new that you haven't had before?"

"No, everything I ate was pretty much the same old stuff we order every time we go there," Sokka replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "But, now that you mention it, I did try a new drink…It was fruity and pink…But, what was it called?" he murmured to himself.

"Lychees. You had some of Ty Lee's lychee martini, remember?" Zuko reminded him.

"Oh yeah! That was new. Maybe it was that?" Sokka answered excitedly.

"Lychees, huh?" Katara noted on the form before her. She silently noted the name 'Ty Lee' in her mind – she'd have to make sure to ask about her sometime. "Okay, I'll go get you a doctor and we'll see if it was the lychees that did you in, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Katara," Sokka responded genuinely, albeit surprised at his sister's more calm handling of his impromptu visit.

She walked away purposefully, wanting her brother to get a doctor as quickly as possible. Allergic reactions were scary to begin with and Katara wanted to be sure he was stable before they released him. She briefly considered whether or not she should switch Sokka to another intake nurse—he was her brother and she should have grabbed somebody else the moment she noticed it. But, after all, he had changed his last name on the form—the only reason she recognized it was because Dimagiba was Gran-Gran's maiden name. Katara realized that there was really no way to get caught, so why not just help him out and get him out of there quickly?

Of course, she wondered why her brother had changed his name to begin with. He was obviously hiding something and she was sure to find out soon. Just how soon was the question.

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Zuko found the exam room cramped with the three of them in it and he had felt slightly claustrophobic. And while the waiting room wasn't much better, at least he didn't have to stay there and watch Sokka get poked and prodded by the doctor.

So, he sat there, drinking a burnt cup of coffee while he regretted the dinner he had missed, watching some horrible made-for-TV movie on the crappy old television set. An old man snored and occasionally coughed to his left, while a little boy playing a PSP sat to his right with his weary mother. Keeping his free hand in his lap as the other clutched the paper coffee cup, he did his best to avoid the germs he was sure were swirling around the ill-lit room.

Bored and losing patience, he approached the nurses' station. He addressed the blue-eyed nurse directly, "Where can a guy have a smoke around here?"

Raising her right eyebrow in irritation, she glanced at the rude interrupter. "It's a hospital. There's no smoking allowed," she retorted acidly

"Not anywhere? You've got to be kidding me," Zuko said, his voice laced with irritation. So, here he was, stuck in a damn hospital, waiting for his stupid brother, drinking stale coffee, and he couldn't have one measly cigarette. The one thing that could possibly make this experience slightly bearable was, of course, out of his reach as always. Fate, the gods, destiny—whatever it was—must've hated him right then.

Katara had seen this before, people that for some inexplicable reason hated the hospital. It was in their body language and their attitude, unseen to most, but to the trained eye was as plain as day. And, for a moment, she felt something akin to empathy for him. Mumbling, "Why am I even doing this?" under her breathe, she sighed and addressed him. "Follow me."

Zuko didn't know what brought on her sudden change in attitude and really didn't care. All he knew was that he would be getting his much-needed nicotine fix. He followed her through the hospital and out a back door somewhere. She held the door open for him and, once he stepped through, she placed a small doorstop on the ground to allow them to re-enter later.

Once his eyes adjusted to the increased darkness, Zuko turned around and examined his surroundings. They were in some alley on the backside of the hospital, not too far from some dumpsters and the parking garage. As he dug in his pocket for his smokes, he muttered "thanks." He pulled out a silver cigarette case and, remembering his manners, turned to Katara and offered her one.

"No thanks. I quit years ago," she said automatically with a wave of her hands.

Zuko shrugged his shoulders and pulled a Zippo lighter out, deftly lighting the cigarette in his mouth and quickly flipping the lid shut. "I didn't peg you for a smoker, you know, being a nurse and all."

"Yeah, well I'm a nurse, not an angel," she retorted back without thinking.

Something had been bothering Katara since her brother had abruptly shown up in the emergency room. She realized just how long it had been since they'd seen each other; she hadn't seen or heard from him for months. She had broached the topic with him the last time they had spoken via phone, imploring her brother to update her on his life and how he was doing. She knew it was only natural to worry about her only family, but she also knew he was stubborn—as much so as herself, if not more so—and, for some reason, he didn't want to tell her about how he was.

Now, she could have just settled for a strained and silent relationship with him, but she had to at least know if he was okay. And the only possible source of steady information about her brother was standing right before her, silently puffing on his clove cigarette.

Knowing she needed to change her tactics with Zuko, she changed the subject. "So, you and Sokka were getting dinner with your boss, huh? Must've been quite the shock to see his allergic reaction."

"Something like that," he regarded her noncommittally. Why had she brought him out here? Why was she suddenly making small talk with him? And why was he intrigued by her? Really, there was nothing special about this woman with the exception of her unclear connection to Sokka. But there he was, having a smoke break and a conversation with her. Zuko blamed the odd situation on the hospital atmosphere, and convinced himself all would go back to normal once they left the depressing building.

Katara stood there for a moment, again thoughtfully appraising his appearance. While her earlier examination of him was cold and calculating, this time she was looking for something deeper. Like she was trying to discover his true thoughts and feelings, like she was peering into his very soul. Zuko suddenly found himself very uncomfortable—a foreign feeling he hadn't experienced since his teenage years. The scar on his face brought unwanted attention wherever he went, but he had long ago become accustomed to the stares it attracted. But now, with this tiny woman before him, he – the heir to the Red Dragons and nephew to the leader of the White Lotus Society, no less – was nervous.

She appraised him under the streetlight. As he pulled another long drag from his cigarette, lips pursed, Zuko looked almost cool—like one of those gangsters in an old black-and-white movie. The shadows created by the streetlight momentarily hid his scar as he stood there staring off into the night. For a moment, Katara considered that he would have been devastatingly handsome had he not received the scar. But, in a way, it also suited him she thought. Shaking her head, she returned to her original train of thought.

"Look, are you and Sokka close?" she asked point-blank.

"We're co-workers, partners," he answered in kind, as he took a long drag from his exotic-smelling cigarette. "Why do you ask?" he queried back as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, its remnants trailing skyward, carefully catching in the streetlight.

"Well, we're close and, uh, I haven't heard from him in months," she confessed as she turned from him and stared off into the night. She absentmindedly rubbed her bare arms as she continued, "I'm just worried about him, I guess." As she paused, she felt a heavy jacket smelling of clove cigarettes encase her shoulders. She looked at him over her shoulder and gave him a small smile and mumbled, "Thanks." For a moment, it looked like he could be civil—and for a moment, she thought he wasn't an entirely bad guy.

With an awkward silence blanketing them, she quickly dug into the pocket of her scrubs and pulled out a business card. On one side was the generic contact information for the nurses' station; on the other, Katara wrote her cell phone number.

She shoved the card at him quickly, thinking that getting it over with quickly was better than drawing it out—just like pulling off a Band-Aid, she told herself.

"Now, don't get any ideas, okay? But, I'm worried about Sokka. So, if it's not too much trouble, can you call me and let me know how he's doing from time to time? I really worry about him and he doesn't return my calls half the time—always tells me he's too busy…We play a mean game of phone tag," she half-heartedly chuckled. "Anyway, you seem like a decent enough guy, so I'd really appreciate it…"

To say Zuko was shocked at her request was an understatement. Not thirty minutes ago, this woman had insulted Zuko and, now, here she was asking him for help. If it hadn't been such an out-of-the-blue request, he probably would have handed the card back to her and told her it was out of the question. But looking at her, the sincerity and worry in her eyes, he knew he couldn't refuse.

"Alright, but don't you think you owe me an apology?"

"Excuse me?"

"I said, 'don't you think you owe me an apology?' You know, for insulting me earlier?"

"Look, I only insulted you because you gave me attitude. If you would've just kept your big mouth shut, I wouldn't have said anything!"

"Let's just remember that I'm not the one asking for a favor here. I'm just saying that the least you could do is apologize and ask nicely. I'm just saying a 'please' would be nice."

Her tiny brown hands were balled into fists at her side as she felt her blood pressure rise. Just who did this guy think he was? As she grit her teeth, any thoughts she may have previously had regarding Zuko's decency were thrown out the window. Even if he was right about the courtesy part.

"You know what? Forget I said anything! I guess I didn't realize what a colossal pain in your ass it would be to make a phone call every few weeks telling me how your 'co-worker' is doing. Just forget about it, okay?" With that, she tore the jacket from her form and threw it at him, and stomped towards the propped-open door. She swung it wide, kicked the doorstop out of the way, and promptly slammed the heavy metal door behind her.

As she stood there on the inside of the hospital, she leaned against the nearby wall and took a couple of calming breaths. All she had wanted was to know her brother was okay. Why couldn't she have even that small comfort? After a few seconds, she smoothed her hands over her scrubs and returned to the E.R., determined to forget what had just transpired between her and Sokka's infuriating co-worker.

Meanwhile, Zuko stood there, eyebrows raised at the young woman that had just left. He swung his jacket over his shoulder as he dropped his cigarette to the ground, squashing it under the heel of his Italian leather shoe. He walked up to the door and jiggled the handle. When it didn't budge, he quickly groaned and then began walking around the building. As he did so, he paused momentarily under the light, looking over Katara's phone number, fingering the business card as he decided whether or not to keep it. Unable to make a decision, he simply slipped it into his pocket, saving the decision for another day.

----------------------------------

The old balding man looked down at his clipboard, examining it closely. He made a few notes while Sokka attempted to wait patiently.

"So, uh, what's the diagnosis, Doc?" Sokka asked, desperate to get out of the hospital.

Clearing his throat as he wrote the discharge order for the patient before him, he responded. "Well, Mr. Dimagiba, it looks like you'll be fine." Quickly examining the IV bag to the left of Sokka, he continued, "As you can see, you're almost done with this. I've also prescribed you some antihistamines, which should help with your remaining symptoms. From what you've told me, it sounds like you're allergic to lychees. While I've read some articles regarding the recent increase in allergic reactions to exotic fruits, you'll still need to come in for a follow-up appointment so we can do an allergy test. Perhaps sometime next week... For the time being, just make sure to be more careful about what you eat, okay?"

"Of course, Dr. Pakku. Thanks," Sokka finished as he shook the old man's offered hand.

The white-haired fellow quickly left the small room and nodded his head at Katara, who was at the nearby nurses' station. He handed her the chart as he swiftly exited the area. As Katara re-entered the room, Sokka looked at Zuko, who was standing nearby in the hallway with his arms folded across his chest as he waited for Sokka to be let go. "Well, guess you can call the driver to come and get us."

"Done," was all the scarred man replied as he turned away. Anxious to leave, Zuko briskly walked out of the hospital and made his call from the parking lot.

Finally alone with his sister, Sokka began his explanation of what was going on. Or, at least, as much of what he could say about what was going on. Dreading what she may say, he slowly buttoned up his shirt before returning his sister's penetrating gaze.

"So, are you gonna tell me what the hell's going on and who that Zuko guy is, or what?" she said, tapping her foot impatiently on the white and gray linoleum as she crossed her arms.

Sokka took a deep breath and cleared his throat before responding. "Well, Zuko is my…co-worker. We were just out to dinner with our company when I got sick and here we are."

"Well, he seems like a jerk if you ask me. And I don't know why he'd come with you to the hospital, though. Kind of weird…And what's up with changing your name? When did that happen?"

"Uh, had to change it for, uh, professional reasons. No big deal, though. You still recognized it, right?"

"Yeah, I guess I did. So, just what kind of work are you doing now?"

"A little bit of this and a little bit of that…Nothing to write home about…"

"Obviously—especially since Gran-Gran and I haven't seen you in months. Sokka," she sighed as her fingers curled around the hem of her scrub top. She looked up at him earnestly, her eyes belying her emotions, "You know, she misses you and asks about you every time I visit her. You should try to go and see her sometime. She's lonely, Sokka…" She trailed off as her eyes looked away from him, not wanting to guilt him into seeing their grandmother, but wanting to explain the situation plainly.

He closed his eyes momentarily as he rubbed the back of his neck in guilt. He really did miss his family, but he didn't want them to know about what he was up to work-wise and he sure as hell didn't want to get them involved in any way, shape, or form. "I know, I know. I haven't been around lately…But, I've been busy. I'm sorry. Send her my love next time you see her, okay Katara?"

"Yeah, of course."

Suddenly aware of the fact that her impromptu visit with her brother was at an end, Katara felt the need to clear the exam room for the next patient. She tore off a new liner for the exam table and made sure all the little jars on the counter had been filled. With a sigh, she looked at her brother, "Well, I guess you should get going. What with your 'driver' coming and all…Don't be a stranger, okay Sokka? I worry about you…"

He slowly approached his baby sister—although she wasn't much of a 'baby' any more—and engulfed her in his arms. Sokka hadn't noticed it, but he had missed her all these months. Even in the artificial lighting of the hospital and its unfamiliar surroundings, he felt at home. His sister had that kind of effect on him, he guessed. "I worry about you, too, Katara. I promise to visit Gran-Gran soon and I'll try to keep in touch more often, okay?"

"Alright…and don't forget to schedule that follow-up appointment! You were lucky they had that Epi-pen at the restaurant, Sokka, and I wouldn't want your luck to run out, 'kay?"

"Fine, fine," he said, shrugging off his little sister's embrace. "Oh, and one last thing – no matter who asks you about it, don't mention my old job on the force, okay? It's in the past and I'd like to keep it that way, if you know what I mean." The younger sibling nodded in comprehension. "See you around, sis." He walked away quickly, glancing over his shoulder as he waved goodbye to her one last time.

Katara simply stood there, leaning on the door frame, smiling at him as he exited the building. She quietly whispered under her breath, "I hope I see you around, too, Sokka…" In moments, she turned her attention to another patient, trying her best to quell the little pang of loss she felt when her brother left her for God knew how long.

As Sokka whizzed past the automatic doors, he saw the car waiting for him, Zuko already seated inside. The moment he stepped into the vehicle, Zuko turned his attention to the young man. "Finally—I thought I'd fall asleep before you got out of there."

"Past your bedtime 'older' brother?" Sokka joked as the car pulled away from the curb. "Well, if you're so tired, why don't we just take you right home—if you're lucky, maybe I'll tuck you in."

"Very funny. I'm just glad to be out of that hellhole," Zuko replied dully as he stared out the window. "So, how do you know that nurse?" he quietly inquired. If nothing else, it was his business to know who his 'family' consorted with.

Sokka gulped momentarily, knowing that he could either tell the truth or lie. At this point, he knew lying about his sister's identity was out of the question—Zuko had seen her and could probably tell they were related. It certainly didn't take a detective to put two and two together when it came to the many shared physical attributes between the siblings. "That nurse is my younger sister, okay? But don't mention it to anyone—I don't want her getting caught up in my shit. Besides, I haven't seen her for months, so she just wanted to catch up a little bit…"

"Fine—secret's safe with me, 'little brother,'" Zuko muttered dryly as he quickly became lost in thought, staring out the window of the vehicle as his face remained unreadable. When Zuko heard Sokka say "younger sister," he was surprised to find that there was something to be jealous of when it came to his new brother. From what Zuko had already witnessed, Sokka had the kind of relationship with his sister that Zuko would never enjoy. His sister, Azula, was a power-hungry bitch and had always been more competitive with him than supportive.

When they were children, if Zuko did something, Azula had to do it better. Sibling rivalry was certainly an understatement when it came to their relationship. Even more disturbing was how Zuko's father had always doted on his youngest, encouraging what most would have called anti-social behavior and aggressiveness. She certainly didn't act like a normal Japanese woman.

In fact, if it weren't for the male dominance of his father's Red Dragon yakuza, Azula would certainly be clawing and killing her way to the top, enjoying every minute of it. Instead, she was her father's deadly secret weapon, doing his bidding as an assassin. With a small sigh of relief at the fact that that part of his life was behind him, Zuko turned his attention away from thoughts of his sister and his past, and stared out at the darkened streets of Los Angeles.


Some definitions:

Dimagiba—is a traditional Filipino last name that means "unbreakable" in Tagalog, the co-official language (along with English) in the Philippines.

Author's Note:

The "an apology would be nice" dialogue in the scene between Katara and Zuko behind the hospital is from Pulp Fiction, during "The Bonnie Situation" where Vincent Vega (John Travolta) mentions that "a please would be nice" when Mr. Wolf (Harvey Keitel) directs them regarding the cleaning of the brain-splattered car.

The chapter's quote "I don't wanna kill you, I wanna help you," is from the scene in Pulp Fiction when Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) explains to Yolanda/Pumpkin (Amanda Plummer) and Ringo/Honey Bunny (Tim Roth) are robbing the coffee shop and demand Marcellus Wallace's (Ving Rhames) briefcase. I thought it was fitting, considering Katara's first reaction to seeing Sokka after so long would probably include a strong need to wring his little neck!

Sorry for the long wait on this chapter-- working full-time and going to grad school aren't exactly conducive to writing fanfic. Anyway, please read and review! Thanks!