Back Up Plans
Chapter 7: Home
His Uncle's car maneuvers through early morning traffic; not that he's eager to reach his destination. Yesterday had been surprising, to say the least, and now he wants answers.
It's been at least three years since he visited his family's home in the Upper East Side- a habit he's not eager to break. Over the years he'd learned that whenever his life took a dark twist, the . He could always count on his little sister to know how and why. You just had to have something valuable for her in exchange, and then the real trick was figuring if she was telling you the whole truth or just distracting you. But after yesterday he had to know what happened to Jet. Where is he now? Why all the lies?
Zuko's conversation with the woman he met last night enters his memory. Katara, she'd said. Her name was Katara.
The commute back to the city had been relatively quick. She'd smiled at him when he talked about his Uncle and law school. He watched the way her hair fell in rivers down her back as she described her dream of becoming a doctor, a healer as she called it. Now, as he shifts the car into park next to the curb outside her apartment building, he becomes agitated once more.
"Katara," he turns to face her with a penetrating expression. "I need to know. Do you really not know Jet?"
Her eyebrows wrinkle in response. "We only met today. I got this stupid knee brace because I chased after the man who stole my backpack in the subway. Jet happened to be there and tried to help me. When we both ended up in the hospital I went to his room to thank him. That's where we met. Honestly, all we talked about was what happened in the subway."
Zuko had expected this response. After knowing her for just twenty minutes he can doubt her. The way her clear, blue eyes answer questions before she even speaks leaves him sure of her honesty. This doesn't make it any less frustrating for him to discover that he has no leads on Jet's whereabouts.
"Don't you believe me?"
Zuko looks at her hurt expression with surprise. "No- I mean- yeah, of course I do. I just…" he wonders how much he should say. "Jet… He and I have a long history. Seeing him tonight made me realize that our history is longer than I thought."
Katara's expression turns thoughtful. "I'll probably see him again. He- well, I have his phone." She tucks her loose, dark hair behind her ear, slightly embarrassed by the admission. "I didn't steal it! At least, I didn't mean to… He lent it to me to call my brother, but I forgot to give it to him when I got in the car with you and your Uncle."
"Can I see it?" Zuko asks eagerly.
She pulls the phone from her pocket and hands it to Zuko. "It's password protected. He typed it in before he gave it to me, but it's locked now."
"Damn it," Zuko tries to type in a couple of passwords, but he knows he won't get into the phone. The phone is just another one of Jet's secrets. Zuko can only imagine how many secrets are actually in it.
"Before your Uncle Iroh offered me a ride home, Jet had offered to find me a ride home too." Katara says unexpectedly.
Zuko looks at her quizzically. "But you didn't accept?"
"I," she seems to struggle to find a response. "He's a stranger."
Zuko wonders at her logic. She must be crazy to say no to one stranger and yes to another. "Be careful," he warns suddenly. "My Uncle is easy to trust but Jet's not always what he appears to be."
"I will," Katara promises quietly as she stares into her lap. Glancing up toward the driver next to her, she notices the ways his light eyes seem to shimmer like gold. Zuko's warm breath fills the air between them and they stare at one another until his expression shifts to the dark bruise on her cheek. "I'll help you inside," he finally mutters.
Zuko is pulled out of his reverie when he notices the houses on either side of the street growing larger; more expansive and luxurious. The sky seems to darken- or is it just in his mind?- when he reaches gated driveway at the end of the block. Punching in the code the ivy covered gates swing back to reveal the luxurious home of his childhood. He parks his Uncle's car in the open courtyard where he is greeted by bleached white columns, stacks of looming windows and Lo and Li. The twin sisters stand in the open doorway of the front entrance creating a gray, sagging barrier.
"Good morning, Master Zuko." Their aged faces betray no surprise at the sight of their long lost ward. Zuko nods in response but offers no greeting.
"Is she awake?"
"Of course." Zuko shakes his head as sweeps past the elderly pair. Over the years he'd tried and failed to discover a distinguishing feature between the two. They'd seemed ancient when they first came to fill in the role his mother had left behind eight years ago. Now, he was beginning to wonder if they'd outlive everyone.
Pushing aside the ache in his gut at the thought of his mother he looks around the familiar and yet alien setting around him. The home's foyer expands outward with a doorway to a spacious sitting room on his left and furnished study on his right. He walks forward, passing the staircase that leads up to rooms still hiding secrets, and enters the kitchen where the sounds of breakfast greet him.
"This is a surprise," Azula's throaty voice drifts lazily toward him from the breakfast table. Clad in silk daywear she makes no effort to rise. "We run into each other once and suddenly you're chasing after me. I've missed you too, brother."
Her venomous sarcasm is not lost on Zuko, but he'd expected it. "We're nothing without family. Right, Azula?"
Her light eyes flash dangerously at the sentiment. "Mother's wisdom still rings true." She flips her dark hair across her shoulders as she returns to her newspaper.
Zuko treads silently forward until he's standing over her. A breakfast feast is spread across the table but she is unimpressed. Her nose wrinkles at the rich food until a satisfactory grapefruit catches her attention. Zuko remains standing next to her chair. "Speaking of the past, Azula, I ran into an old, mutual friend last night."
"Oh?" she remarks with disinterest as she surveys the row of headlines in her reading.
"Yes, he remembers you fondly."
"Well, don't hold me in suspense, brother. Who could possibly be a mutual friend of ours."
Zuko grows serious, no longer playing his part in their family charades. "How long have you known Jet is alive?"
The room buzzes with sudden intensity as Azula finally halts her reading. Her eyes sweep carefully across Zuko's expression. "Jet died six years ago."
"Yes and no."
"Do explain." She motions for him to join her at the large table. Sitting in the cushioned chair across from her he begins explaining his encounter in the hospital last night embellishing where necessary to manipulate the truth from her.
"So you let him just walk away?" Her question is more an accusation as she cocks a condescending eyebrow.
"No-" Temper, Zuko reminds himself. "He had no information to offer, so I decided to come to the source of all important information. Which brings me back to my first question; how long have you known that Jet is alive?"
Azula's plush lips stretch into a grin as she returns her attention to her breakfast. "You're finally getting interesting, Zuzu." His posture grows rigid at the taunt. "But that's not the right question."
"Then what is the right one?" He despises his sister's callous charades.
"I'm afraid that's not how the game works."
Exercising all of his restraint Zuko remains as close calm as he can. "Then tell me how it works." Each word comes out painfully temperate.
"It begins when you acknowledge the fact that you are a King! Showing up here in tacky suits and borrowed cars can't hide the fact that you were born better than the rest of the world."
"Why are we having this conversation? And believe me, I know exactly who I am and where I come from! Escaping all of it was the first good decision I ever made!"
"What's with all the shouting?" The fighting siblings, now standing with palms slammed against the table, turn toward the intruding presence. Dread washes over Zuko while a satisfied expression crosses Azula's face.
"Good morning, Ty Lee. Mai." She crosses the room to greet her friends who had apparently spent the night in the King home. "Won't you join us for breakfast? Zuko here was just telling me how much he misses his old friends."
"No." Zuko sternly and awkwardly interrupts. Pushing the strap of his briefcase higher up on his shoulder he walks out of the room pushing his way past the trio.
"Zuko wait-" Mai's cool hand grabs his wrist hopefully. He looks back at her with a biting remark in his throat, but her typically apathetic expression, now hurt, silences him. "Why are you always running away from me?" she asks.
"He's not running away Mai," Azula interjects. "He's leaving you. The first good decision he ever made according to him."
"I…" How is he supposed to finish that sentence? Deny Azula's assertion? Apologize? Or worse, agree with his sister and hurt Mai even more? "I can't stay."
"Of course you can't." The pain in Mai's voice grows venomous. Azula's eyes practically sparkle as she moves forward and places her clawed hands around her friend's shoulders in feigned support. Ty Lee, clad in pink, stands quietly behind them in silent solidarity.
Defeated, Zuko stalks angrily away. He hears his sister command her friends to stay in the kitchen before her heels come clicking after him. He braces himself for another attack. "You want to know how to play the game, Zuko?" Azula doesn't bother with pretenses as they stand in the early sun outside their hoome. "You can't. You're not even a player in this one."
"This isn't a game to me!" he shouts. "This is my life! It's yours too if you took one minute to care!"
"Don't pretend to know me Zuko! It's been a long three years…" Azula's hand rests casually on her hip but her shoulders are tense and feet planted firmly on her spot on the front steps. He looks up at her and wonders if she has changed as much as Jet has. "You want answers?" she says. "Stop asking stupid questions. Don't ask me 'how long' or 'who' or 'when.' Ask 'why.' You already know all the players, Zuko. Just ask why."
Surprised by her candor, Zuko watches her expression for deception. "If I were you I'd remember that we're nothing without family." Azula's warning hangs in the air as the doors to his childhood home click firmly shut.
Ask the right question. Ask the right question? She'd given him nothing! He suspects that even her vague hints will lead to dead ends or, more likely, were just empty distractions. He's tempted to march back up to door and pound on it until someone answers but a glance at his watch reminds him that his other life is calling. Daily life beckons and he knows he has to leave for work. Sighing in frustration he slides into his Uncle's car. Focusing on his assignments at work would be impossible now.