Pre-A/N: Guess what story isn't dead!fic? Welcome to the beginning of the end of this series! We're starting off with a missing scene brought to us by the endless good graces of Like A Dove. Three part epilogue to follow.

This scene takes place during Duels of Honor (Part One).

A/N: Hello, Like A Dove here! And with a small update! The lovely audreyii-fic asked me to write a little missing scene between Zuko an Iroh sometime ago, and I was only too happy to oblige.

Hope everyone likes! Poor Zuko. No one stands a chance against the all-knowing Uncle Iroh.

Hot Leaf Juice

I was never angry with you. I was sad because I was afraid you lost your way.

I did lose my way.

But you found it again. And you did it by yourself. And I am so happy you found your way here.

Zuko doesn't like to cry in front of people, if he can help it. He doesn't like to cry at all, really.

He can remember one of the last times he cried in front of someone pretty clearly. He'd been a kid—maybe six or seven—and he'd cut his knee while playing in Mother's garden. Seeing his own blood gush down his leg had scared him and the tears had naturally come.

He can remember the scathing look of disapproval on his father's face. "Dry your tears," his father had ordered. "Royal men of the Fire Nation do not cry over things such as cuts."

So Zuko had dried his tears, and after that day he made a valiant effort not to cry in front of his father again.

Of course, the very last time he'd cried in front of Ozai was when he had been on his knees, begging him not to fight him in that Agni Kai.

Look where that had got him.

Zuko swallows thickly and scrubs at his face with the back of his hands. He'd cried. He'd cried, and yet Uncle is still watching him with his kind, patient smile. In fact, Iroh's eyes look a little misty themselves.

After all the dampness has been rubbed away from his cheeks, Zuko casts his gaze about the tent, suddenly unsure of what to say. A part of him feels dizzy, as if an agonizingly heavy weight has just been lifted off of his chest. Another part feels tentative, willing to please. This is his Uncle, his true father, and right now Zuko can't think of anything to say. Maybe everything that needs to be said has already been spoken.

But Uncle, being Uncle, doesn't let the silence last long. The old man gestures to a tea set in the corner, and Zuko feels his lips twitch. Of course there's a tea set in Uncle's tent. Of course.

"I have heard from some very reliable sources that you learned to properly brew after you... left Ba Sing Se. Perhaps you could make some for the both of us, my nephew? "

"Um." Zuko feels heat spread across his cheeks. Those meetings with Katara back on the ship feel like a lifetime ago. Besides, during those meetings his mind hadn't necessarily been focused on tea. "Okay. Sure."

It's not like tea is difficult to make. You have the leaves, and the water, and you steep it or something, and you wait until it gets hot. And then there's tea.

Annoying that he messed it up for so long.

Whatever. Zuko is just happy to have something to do with his hands.

Uncle crosses laces his fingers over his lap. "How has your journey been so far?" he asks.

"Er, it's been good. Fine."

"And I understand you brought Hakoda's daughter with you."

Uh-oh. "Yes. No. Sort of," Zuko blurts out quickly. "I mean, I didn't bring her, I was going to come alone, but she wouldn't let me. That happens sometimes."

Iroh raises an eyebrow. "She's a rather feisty young lady, isn't she?"

And Zuko falls for it. He falls right into the trap. "Yeah," he snaps, bristling just a little bit, because it almost sounds like Uncle disapproved and no one is allowed to disapprove of Katara. "But, I don't know, I think that's a good quality to have. She's is really stubborn, annoyingly so, and unwavering, but that makes her a strong person. Stronger than anyone else I've ever met." He's starting to babble, but he can't help himself, because he never gets to talk about her. "And it makes her a strong fighter, too. When we spar there will be moments when I'll think I have the upper hand, or when I just know that I've tired her out, she'll come back at me with everything she has. And just when I've thought that I've won she'll…"

Zuko trails off at the happy, every so slightly smug expression on Uncle's face.

He snaps his mouth closed. He hasn't admitted to anything, not exactly, but he's still basically revealed everything ever. Because Uncle always knows.

There's a twinkle in Uncle's eye.

Zuko knows to always be wary when there's a twinkle in Uncle's eye.

"When I first met your Aunt, Prince Zuko…"

Oh, dear Agni. No.

"…we were quite the opposites in many ways. At times, I found her quite frustrating. There were many issues where, no matter how hard we each tried to compromise with the other, we just couldn't see eye to eye." He laces his fingers over his belly and raises his eyebrows, like a brilliant thought has just occurred to him. "You know, she was a lot like young Katara, now that I think about it—"

"Uncle."

"—but despite everything I still wanted to be with her. And she wanted to be with me. And we fit together like pieces of a pai sho board. Do you know why, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko traces his finger along the edge of the tea kettle and tries not to fume too obviously. He doesn't answer, which doesn't matter. Uncle will tell him anyway.

"Because she challenged me - and because of that, we understood one other. To understand and respect someone is a high honor we can give to another person, and a high honor that we can receive in return."

"That's great, Uncle."

Uncle Iroh beams, and if he picked up on the sarcasm then he doesn't show it. "Love, my nephew, is something that all human beings crave."

"I didn't say anything about love," Zuko mutters. Not that it matters. He can't even hide it from Sokka anymore, let alone Uncle.

Iroh continues as though Zuko didn't speak. "It is best to treat relationships with the reverence that they deserve," he says placidly, "while always knowing that we will never master the art of relationships, because to master the art of relationships is to be, essentially, perfect."

Uncle is impossible to understand when he gets philosophical. "The art of relationships? What does that even mean?"

The twinkle in Uncle Iroh's eyes are back again. "Is the tea ready, my nephew? I find myself very thirsty at this moment."

Sighing, Zuko pours out the tea and then hands one clay cup to his Uncle. Zuko sips his own tea and mulls over Uncle's words. There's an art to relationships…

What. The hell.

Zuko doesn't notice Uncle blanch as he sips Zuko's tea. He only looks up when Uncle has a brief coughing fit.

"Did I make it wrong?" Zuko asks. His own cup tastes fine to him.

Iroh stills and watches his nephew for a moment… until a genuine smile spreads across his face. "No, my nephew," he says, and with pride. "The tea is delicious."