a/n: Okay, so I've been planning this story for a WHILE. It begins on the day that his village was burned and his parents were both killed and follows him until his death in season 2. I really am interested in what this character represents and his psychological development through the years. I really hope you enjoy!

D-Day

Some say that in the face of trouble, staying is the hardest thing to do. The burning rocks and embers puncturing Jet's feet as he ran would disagree, but he couldn't stop. The air got thicker and darker by the second but he actually looked at it, there was light brighter than he'd ever seen trapped inside of the smoke. It almost looked like the lanterns they'd light during his birthday every year, but now the fleeting memory of those celebratory flames were burned away, ruined with anything he'd ever known.

He saw silhouettes turn into people coming out of the flames. He saw flesh for the first time, coming out of the people he knew. He started running again but, a voice stopped him. He thought he heard his mother's voice call for his name, but it was so quick and went unfollowed by anything else so he wasn't sure. Then, in that moment, Jet realized one of them was looking at him. A large man on a dark horse, his calm demeanor a direct paradox to the chaos he had contributed to. As the man on the horse turned his head back more to get a better look at him, Jet froze. He felt hopeless and could not think anything in that moment, but a memory of his father took his attention.

"Jet, I need to talk to you" he sat his son down next to him on the floor of their home. "Now, you're old enough to realize that some Fire Nation soldiers have been coming to our village these past few weeks. Listen to me carefully. If anything ever happens, to us or our home, you have to promise me that you'll ran away from whatever it is okay? Do you know why?"

Jet's eyes widened in shock to what he was hearing. He nodded in confusion.

"Why would I leave you guys?" He asked, tears now beginning to blur his vision.

"Because you can never let them get you, do you understand me? No matter what, it's better to run away from wherever the Fire Nation is because that's where you'll be free. It's better to die free than live under them! Promise me you will run if anything ever happens."

"But Dad-"

"Jet, please!" His father grabbed him by the shoulders suddenly. "I know this sounds scary, but it's real. It's happening and I need to you that you'll know how to act in case of anything. Can you please do that for me?"

He wanted to agree with his father, but only sobs came out of his mouth. He nodded in agreement.

He had to run. If he couldn't be with his parents right now, he could at least still listen to them. The unease he felt as the man on the horse looked down at him did not leave at all, but Jet still found it in his body to slowly then quickly pick up pace to escape. He felt eyes follow him he continued to run, but now he couldn't stop. About 20 minutes of sprinting later, Jet turned back to now see his village and home gone in the distance, now replaced with black dust and a haunting amber glow covering it.

Jet didn't run too far, only enough to no longer feel the heat. He stayed not too far behind a group of older kids for the next few days, sharing scraps of food they were able to salvage from their homes. It took not more than 3 nights for Jet's curiosity to get the better of him. He wanted to know for sure. What if they had survived? What if they were waiting for him? As his uncertainty grew, his body moved before he realized it.

"Where are you going?" A voice called out. Jet heard him but couldn't stop moving. "Hey, hey kid!"

"Stop, where are you going?"

He didn't care enough o look who was calling after him. He heard hurried footsteps and his body responded without him having to think, and now he was hurrying too. Faster and faster, just as he'd run away, he was going to go back.

"Jet, if you go back, we're gonna leave without you!" A gasping voice said. They were trying to catch their breathes while yelling out for him. He continued to hear his name in the air as he continued on, until he his vision began to blur. First his peripheral was foggy then everything. As he slowed down, he saw black debris sitting still on the floor where the fog was most concentrated. The smell didn't register at first, but then he realized what he was looking at. This was it. As passed through, that smell only grew stronger. It was rotten and smokey, overpowering the rest of his senses. His eyes watered and he used his hand to cover his nose and mouth, salty tears making contact with his raw skin.

He walked toward where the swing used to be, the same one he had grown to big to use anymore. Instead of a mark of his growing up, it was now ash. As he wandered like he was lost, the smell didn't subside. He wanted to leave but couldn't stop looking. Until finally, peeking from under a pile of rubble was something else. He moved the top layer of debris with his left foot, trying to understand what this little twig like object was. It might've not looked very remarkable but when surrounded by shapeless ash and remnants, this tiny object had a stick like formation still. He crouched down and rubbed his eyes dry. He picked up and inspected the stick with an especially stiff finger and thumb, that when he knew this wasn't a stick at all. Touching it had took away some of the soot and revealed a withered ivory that almost shined. A dreadful realization washed over Jet as he threw it back on the ground and back away, as if it was going to hurt him. He didn't know which of his parents it belonged to and that thought alone sent him running through the fog and back toward the forest.

*1 year later*

Jet hadn't taken a bath or had a whole meal in days. He'd remembered seeing familiar faces near a stream and wondered if he should go back. Not that they would be there but if there was a stream, there might be another village nearby. He decided if he washed up now, he might be able to find the village by night time. But his strolling came to a full hault when he found a familiar smell. Something was burning. Jet looked around, trying to locate the source when his eyes fixed on a growing stream of smoke. He instinctively began to walk toward it but then saw a kid about his age carrying a bow and bag of what had to be arrows struggling. He was running towards the forest and a safer place.

"Hey, do you need help?" Jet called out to him. The kid didn't hear him at first. He quickly made his way toward him while trying again. "Hey!" Then the crying kid looked up at him, startled. As if he wasn't supposed to be found. "Do you need help with that?" Jet held out his left arm and motioned to the arrows with his right, only for the kid to hold them closer than before. "Oh, okay then." Jet relaxed both his arms and stopped walking.

In those a few minutes the kid didn't say anything, but Jet learned a lot about him. He noted the design of the bow. Wood like most, but painted dark and the middle there was a bright red plastered. It was so snug to the wood that it was a part of it. This wasn't his, Jet thought. There was no way this belonged to just a kid, this was something that had clearly been used a lot but this kid could barely handle it. His dark eyes didn't move from Jet, anxious for what was next. His face was long and chin was partially covered by the ribbon of the straw hat he wore.

"Where's your family?" Jet asked him, taking a step closer. He'd never been one to ask so many questions, but a lot had changed. In response, the kid just redirected his stare to the ground, nodding and shrugging. "I understand." The kid looked up at Jet again, but this time with anticipation and surprise. "Mine aren't here either. My name is Jet, what's yours?" The kid finally stood up completely. He actually wasn't as small as he had thought. He swung the bag over his shoulder but his eyes didn't leave Jet.

"You can call me Longshot." He softly answered.