Hello all!

Sorry it's a little late, I've just been super-busy.

Twelve reviews last chapter! Wow, that was so awesome! Thank you all so much, it was what spurred me to work hard on this, despite work and school.

Disclaimer: I own nothing here. Sadness.


"Good evening my nephew." Iroh smiled as the teenager pushed the door open, stepping inside the small apartment, but the soft beam faded as the door was slammed painfully hard. "Zuko?"

"What." Zuko muttered, kicking off his shoes.

"Whatever is wrong?" He looked up from the book he was reading, propped up by his arms on the table. "Things did not go well?"

"No. It didn't." His stomach growled, and the boy stomped towards the pantry, yanking open the wooden door and grabbing a little loaf of bread, about the size of his fist. Iroh sighed deeply, shaking his head.

"I know you must find things hard, my Prince." He said sadly, watching Zuko tear into the bread. "But you mustn't force your frustrations on her-"

"I didn't." Zuko snarled after swallowing his mouthful of bread. "She dumped me." Iroh was still, eyes widening.

"I am so sorry." He said gently, standing up and starting to walk towards his young nephew.

"Don't be." Zuko said roughly through a mouthful of bread, and swallowed, wiping crumbs from his lips. "It's not your fault. It's mine."

"What did you do?" There it was again, that sigh of exasperation, eyes threatening to roll. Zuko's chest surged in anger, and he swallowed the last of the bread, which he had practically inhaled in his hunger, hands clenched into fists.

"I didn't do anything." He growled. "I did nothing at all. She was the one who ran away crying before I could say anything! She's the one with the problem! I didn't do anything to her! I don't know why she ran away, I don't know!"

"All right, Zuko." Iroh pleaded. "Please, control yourself-"

"I'll be damned if I'll control myself, Uncle!" Zuko shouted. "You don't know how this feels, all right! I like her! I really really like her, and she made me happy, for the first Agni-damned time in so long! But it doesn't matter, does it! Because she left! Just like everyone else I ever cared about, she's gone! And it's my fault, I know it! I know it's my fault but I don't know why!" Iroh gasped as the candles throughout the room all surged in Zuko's anger, flaring up into flames six feet tall, almost grazing the ceiling. "What's wrong with me! Why does this always happen! The moment everything looks like it possibly might be okay, just when I've relaxed into myself and become slightly happy, fate shoves it all back in my face and rips everything away! I can't take it Uncle, I just can't take it anymore!"

"Zuko." There was no anger, no biting admonishment in Iroh's voice, although it had a firm edge to it, as sharp as a knife. The teenager froze at the strong hands resting on his shoulders, his nails still digging into his palms. "I'm sorry." Iroh continued, his tone growing gentler. "Truly, I am. But being angry about this will not make things any better. It will not make you feel better."

"I-I know…" Zuko muttered, unable to look his uncle in the eye. "But I can't help feeling like this. I mean, where did that come from! Why did she just leave!" With a growl, he wrenched himself free of Iroh, stomping towards his room.

"Zuko!" Iroh protested. "You must-" He winced as the door was slammed shut, and shook his head. Once again, Zuko's anger had gotten the better of him, leaving him bitter and resentful. Iroh wasn't surprised, although it was saddening. How long would it be until his nephew could look at the world without a veil of anger and despair? Iroh shook his head, and turned back towards his book. He started, however, when he noticed that Zuko's anger had managed to set the curtains aflame, and they were still smoldering, burned nearly to the rails. With a wince, Iroh smothered the flame with a wave of his hand, before turning to the closed door, shoulders slumped. He ached for the boy, he really did, and he wished there was something he could say that was both truthful and didn't aggravate Zuko, but nothing came to mind. And besides, he doubted that Zuko would listen to anything he had to say at this point. He was too frustrated, too hurt and angry, to listen to reason. Unfortunately, it was a path well-trodden by the pair at this point. And Iroh found the best thing to do was to wait it out, let Zuko sit by himself and mull over what was ticking inside his skull. Hopefully he would be civil by the morning – if not, it would be a very long day in the tea shop tomorrow.

Heaving a long sigh, Iroh sat back down in front of his book, trying to cast his attention back to the riveting tale at hand.

Dawn was finally approaching.

Jin shivered, and wrapped her bare arms tighter around her torso. A smudge of light grey could be seen through the thick, dark clouds, signifying that soon she would have to crawl back into bed and feign sleep, lest her mother wonder what she'd been doing up on the roof all night.

What have I been doing up on the roof all night? She sighed, pushing her hair back over her shoulders, which had been blown about by the early morning breeze. Thinking. That's right.

He's Fire Nation. Every time that thought floated through her head, Jin's heart sunk just a little further. His people... They almost captured Ba Sing Se. They've torn the whole world apart. They're evil, evil people!

But Lee isn't like that. She stared down at her toes. He's... Nice. I know he has his moments where he can be a real jerk but who doesn't? And after what he's obviously been through, of course he isn't going to be a gentle, friendly person.

What happened to him? That was, at the moment, the heaviest question weighing on Jin's mind. To run away, to resort to hiding out as refugees in Ba Sing Se meant that he must have done something awful against the Fire Nation. Perhaps he was member of their army, and broke away. Or maybe his father was a general or admiral and had his post overthrown by Earth Kingdom rebels. Maybe he was a just curious boy who wanted to explore the world.

Maybe he was a spy.

Jin tensed, biting hard on a knuckle. It was possible. Perhaps he had been sent by the Fire Nation, to get inside the city and take it down internally. After all, they had failed in an attack on the outside…

No. She shook her head. Not Lee. Or, whatever his name is. He's not a spy sent here. If he was, he would be a better actor, and have a better cover story, a whole history of who he was. Unless this is all part of the act... Although I can't see how, it's only made me more confused and uneasy. He's not a spy, or a soldier. He's just a kid.

That still doesn't explain why he's here. She slowly stretched out her back against the tiles, watching the heavy thick clouds, which increased in clarity against the sluggishly lighting sky. Why he's in Ba Sing Se, pretending to be a refugee...

He is still a refugee, in essence. Jin frowned. He came here, to avoid persecution, because he was homeless. He's trying to make a fresh start.

But he's Fire Nation. And not only that, he's a bender. He's capable of incredible destruction if he wanted to. And I've seen him get angry. I've seen him snap. He's a dangerous person. But he never hurt me. He never even implied that he would. He's yelled and sworn but he's never done anything violent. And he helped me. Jin raised her hands, silhouetted against the clouds. Getting the dirt and glass out of my hands. He was so... Tender.

I don't want to hate him. I don't hate him. But I'm... Scared. I'm scared and that's what's making me so ashamed. I mean... Why? He's a good person, I know he is, even if he is rough around the edges. It's because I know he's from the Fire Nation. But the blood in his veins and the fact that he shoots flames from his hands doesn't change who he is!

... It does. Tears pricked in Jin's eyes as she sat up, staring what she could at the lightening horizon that peeked above the walls. As ashamed as I am to say it, it does. I can't look at him; think of him, without thinking about the Fire Nation, everything they've done to people. The refugee's here, they tell their stories, in whispers, when the Dai Li turn their backs. Tearing families apart, burning down whole villages and towns, the relentless killing and wounding of innocent people, ambushing defenseless civilians hiding out in the forests... They are horrible, horrible people. And Lee is one of them. He is, and he isn't. But... I don't know. Maybe he did do some of those horrible deeds, and that's why he's so guilty, why he clams up so tightly. I wish I knew. But it's not something I can ask him.

He's not a monster! He never was a monster! She wiped at her eyes. He just... He can't be... He's not one of those people... Even if he keeps saying his past is complicated... That's because he's hiding his whole identity. If he was the kind of person that burned down villages and captured people, he couldn't live here. He couldn't walk and talk amongst the people he directly attacked, his conscience wouldn't let him. Jin sniffed, shaking her head. Why? Why does he have to be... Why did I have to find out? Why did I have to realize? I was happy not knowing! Sure, I was confused and frustrated... But this... I never could have imagined he was hiding something this horrible. He was so nice to me. And not a sleazy, suspicious kind of nice when you know they only want one thing. Not like Liang. He didn't really know how but he tried, so hard. Lee was so nice.

So many horrible things are running through my mind. Who was he? What did he do? Whose side is he really on? She groaned. I don't have enough information, but at the same time, I know too much. I wish I could just erase it from my mind. Just forget that Lee is a firebender, forget his race is a sworn enemy of mine. He makes me happy. So much happier than Liang or Riku. He's honest, despite his silence. I felt... comfortable.

And now I've lost that... I've lost that happiness and comfort and now so has he. And it's not his fault, either. He's done nothing wrong. Not to me. It's who he is. Not even who he is, but who his kin and people are. And I wish I could say that it doesn't matter, it doesn't change how I feel, but it does.

I've lost him...

Her vision blurred with tears, Jin slowly lifted her head, realizing with a start that the atmosphere around her was much lighter, a dull, grey light beginning to illuminate the environment around her. Dawn was about an hour off, and her mother would be coming up in a couple of minutes to 'wake her up'. Slowly, with the stiffness of the very old and enfeebled, Jin turned and crawled up the few short feet of tiles to the skylight that led into her room. The house her family had a floor in, and had lived in for most of her life, was like most in her street, very narrow and quite tall. Jin's own bedroom was supposed to be an attic, a storage alcove, but as the flat just had two bedrooms and she was the only girl, her father had cut the skylight, building shutters to keep out the rain, and declared it to be her very own room. She was the only one of her friends and relative with such a luxury, and regarded it as a very special privilege, even though it was tiny, dimly lit, leaked when it rained heavily, whistled whenever it blew up a strong gale, and in the winter was sometimes so unbearably cold and wet she had to sleep beside the stove in the large common area. And besides, it was excellent for sneaking in and out without being caught.

Jin treaded carefully onto the three-legged stool she kept in her room for the purpose, reaching out, and pulling the shutters too, careful not to cause too much noise. The room was plunged into darkness, the influence of the weak pre-dawn light immediately obvious. Fortunately, Jin knew every nook and cranny of the tiny room, from the low, sloping ceiling to the uneven floorboards to the few sticks of furniture, and soon she had pushed the stool into the corner, and tip-toed across, knowing which boards were prone to creak, until she reached her bed, a simple straw mattress on a somewhat flimsy wooden base, pushed into the corner where the roof was at its' lowest, to maximise space. Jin rubbed at her eyes again, realizing with a pang that they would be looking all red-rimmed and swollen. She buried her face in the thin pillow as best as she could, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders. The early-morning air had a chilly bite to it, despite the approaching summer, and Jin was glad for the warmth. Trying to force the image of the boy that felt forever lost to her out of her mind, Jin closed her eyes, and struggled to control her breathing, taking deep lungfuls of air in through the nose, exhaling through the mouth.

"Jin honey, wake up." At the sound of her mothers' voice, Jin's eyes snapped open, and she pulled herself into a sitting position. "Be down for breakfast in five minutes." A short hug, and the woman had slipped out of the room, leaving a burning candle on her bedside table. Jin groaned, and drew her knees up to her chest, resting her head on the bent limbs. After a few moments, the girl turned about in her bed, resting her feet on the rough-hewn floorboards as she made to get up. Her eyes, however, found the burning taper, and she stared at the tiny flame, unable to tear her gaze away.

Fire. It had always interested her, for some reason. She had seen its' beauty, in the Firelight Fountain, the fireworks display at New Year and other such festivals, and often in a particularly colourful sunset. But she'd also seen it destroy. She'd born witness to three separate house fires – not her own, thank goodness – throughout her life in the city, heard the roar and felt the intense heat. And although it was terrifying to watch, it was strangely hypnotic, and she'd stood outside for hours on all three occasions, unable to leave the scene, despite the danger.

And this time, she wasn't the only one absorbed by the little flame. A moth, which had probably followed Jin inside, was flapping around the candle flame, the beat of its little grey wings causing it to sputter and sway. The flame was hot on the poor moth, it kept ducking back after getting too close, singeing itself, but the persistent little creature continued to try and get as close to it as it could.

Jin stood up, and shook her head as she shuffled quietly across the room, hunching her shoulders when the need was there, until she'd reached the little wooden rack where her clothes hung. She only had a few outfits, as typical of her class, two dresses she wore for work, and around home, and her green robe which she donned whenever she went out. Although the light was poor, Jin dressed quickly into her dark green work outfit, the one with the ragged hem and patchwork after a run-in with a feral cat. Jin stepped into her work shoes, and turned back to the bed, making for the wide-toothed comb her brother had given her for her birthday, of animal bone inlaid with brass, and was halfway across the room when she noticed the moth. It had darted to close to the flame, she realized sadly, and now the little insect flopped about on her rickety bedside table, its wings aflame. By the time she'd approached it, the little moth had stopped moving, and she thought that it had died, but upon closer inspection, noticed that its legs were still jerking about, and one antenna was waving from side to side. Wincing, Jin slowly lifted up the candle stick, and, closing her eyes, slammed it down upon the burnt moth, grinding the brass object just to make sure that she had killed it.

It was best to put the poor suffering thing out of its misery.

Tea, tea, and more bloody tea!

Zuko felt like flinging the loaded tray to the floor, and stamping on the fragments of porcelain. He was sick of tea! Sick of bending over, sick of stacking cups, sick of washing up, sick of keeping a happy face for the customer, sick of the smell, sick of looking at the same tired faces peer back at him day after day after endless day.

"There." Zuko muttered, slamming the tray heavily down on the small back table in the kitchen. Pao raised an eyebrow at his youngest employee, who wiped at his hands rather roughly on his apron. "What."

"Lee, that is not the way to behave to your employer." Iroh reminded his young nephew, busily straining the leaves from a pot of lychee. "You must show respect." At the word, Zuko stiffened, and Iroh immediately cringed, mentally slapping himself.

"Don't talk to me about that." Zuko muttered, shoving his sleeves past his elbows and dousing his hands in the lukewarm water of the sink, one hand grabbing for the cleaning rag, the other searching for the cups that were submerged in the water. "I've already had a lesson to last a lifetime in respect."

"Perhaps you should take a break." Pao suggested, sensing the boys' deep unease. With the stir that the elderly man was causing in his shop, swelling its' customer base to record numbers, the last thing he wanted to do was make either of them unhappy, and give them a cause to seek greener pastures. "Go take in the air."

"I've had enough of the air." Zuko muttered. "I don't need a break. I just need people to leave me alone." Iroh noticed the rising steam of the water, alarm growing.

"All ready!" He set the pot down with a flourish, ready for Pao to serve. The doleful-looking man took the tray with a nod, shooting Zuko an odd glance before stepping into the front of the shop to serve the pot of lychee.

"I know you're going to say I should apologize." Zuko removed his hands from the water, wiping them with a small towel. Iroh said nothing. "Well?"

"You want me to lecture you?" He put another kettle on to boil. "You know exactly what I would say, and you don't want to hear it."

"You're right. I don't." Zuko stared down at the cups he was in the middle of drying.

"But I still don't believe you should treat Pao with disrespect, because you feel rotten." Iroh lightly admonished the young man. "He is your boss, and pays your wages."

"As pathetic as they are." Zuko growled. "We're little better than slaves, uncle." The elderly man shook his head despairingly, before beginning on the jasmine. "I know this is paradise to you, getting to do what you love for a job. But for me, it's hell. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty or selfish. It's just how I feel."

"And I respect your feelings." Iroh nodded. "But this is our chance to make a fresh start for ourselves, a new name and a new face."

I'd kill for a new face. Zuko sighed, one palm flattening against his scarred cheek. He shook his head, and threw down his towel, starting to stack the teacups in the little shelf above his head.

"I know that, uncle." He muttered. "It's just not going so well for me at the moment." He referred to the girl who would normally have come for her daily cup of tea at least an hour ago. "I'm not so sure what to do."

"That feeling is perfectly natural." Iroh said, leaving the teapot to draw for a few moments. "But do not let it consume you, my nephew."

"Yeah, because I have so much going for me right now." Zuko slid the cabinet door shut forcefully, before taking his wooden tray, and heading back to the shop front. Pao was still talking to the lychee people, probably friends of his, and Zuko made sure not to look in his direction, keeping his eyes fixed on the teacups and the tray. Iroh walked past the teenager, bearing a pot of tea and three cups, and Zuko pointedly said nothing, pretending to be too absorbed in his menial work. When he needed to be, Zuko was a prize-winning sulker.

"So you're the genius behind this incredible brew!" Zuko couldn't help but glance up at the man who had loudly greeted Iroh. "The whole city is buzzing about you!" This can't be good. Zuko's hands tensed on the tray, and he walked over to the next table, collecting the cups as the party stood up and left, thanking him with quiet murmurs. What do they want. Agni, I hope it's not another job offer. His uncle had been sorely tempted by another four days before, but after visiting the shop, declared it a miserable hovel beyond repair, which was something Zuko thought his current place of employment was anyway. "I hope Pao pays you well." Uh-oh...

"Good tea is its' own reward." Predictable uncle. Zuko sighed, sneaking the man a glance. Tall and imposing, his fingers dripping with golden rings and flanked by two men in identical uniform, he looked like the kind who was satisfyingly wealthy, and of considerable influence.

"But it doesn't have to be the only reward. How would you like to have your own tea shop?" Damn, I was right. Zuko wrinkled his nose. Uncle can't seriously...

"M-my own tea shop!" He is. "This is a dream come true!" He's considering it. Well, it sounds like he's already made up his mind. Great. Just freaking brilliant.

"What's going on here? Are you trying to poach my tea maker?" Pao, upon hearing Iroh's exclamation, had quickly dashed in between the two men, frantic.

"Sorry Pao, but that's business for you..." Zuko tuned out, standing still beside an empty table, eyes fixed on the tea cups. Another tea shop. Even if it's cleaner and better-built than this grubby little shack, I'll still be miserable. But then again, as of late, I'm always miserable...

"… A new apartment in the upper ring, the tea shop is yours to do whatever you want." Zuko's interest was again peaked, and he turned his head, not even pretending to work anymore. "Complete creative freedom."

"I even get to name it?" Iroh sounded almost beside himself in joy, Zuko noticed, like a child at the Fire Festival. A tea shop in the upper ring, all to himself... No wonder he's so excited…

"I wouldn't have it any other way." The rich man promised, much to the despair of Pao, Zuko noticed.

"Senior executive assistant manager?" Pao said pleadingly, hopelessly, but Iroh merely pressed the empty teapot into his ex-employers' chest, beaming. With a groan, the tea shop owner slumped away. Zuko sighed deeply, and straightened up, clutching the wooden tray littered with tea cups.

"Did you hear that, nephew?" Iroh exclaimed as Zuko walked past, joy quivering in his voice. "This man wants to give us our own tea shop in the upper ring of the city!"

"That's right young man, your life is about to change for the better!" Zuko rolled his eyes at the sound of his new bosses' voice, his knuckles whitening.

"I'll try to contain my joy." Zuko threw the tray down on the empty table, his sulk deepening despite the news. Iroh sighed as his nephew walked into the street, slamming the front door behind himself.

Ugh, I just can't be bothered with it. Zuko leaned against the side of the shop, arms crossed. He was still in a horrible mood from last night, he knew, and Jin's failure to show up at her normal time – expected, but still enough to sting – had only made him feel worse. He stared fixedly at the ground, sighing, but the sound of something crinkling, fluttering, had caught his air. Zuko blinked, and looked up to see a small flyer swirling through the air, caught by the wind. His curiosity sparked, Zuko snatched the paper before it could float away, raising it to his eye level. He stared at the main picture, and froze, eyes widening as he scanned the lettering, his heart racing.

The Avatar.

Okay, hopefully that's given you a bit of context in terms of continuity and whatnot.

If my dialogue was out a little, then sorry.

I'm not intending to like, rewrite the next few episodes, if that's what your wondering. I just included that because, like I said, I wanted to give you a bit of context and that fitted.

Thanks for reading, now all you have to do is give me a few words on what you think. It's more appreciated than you could ever imagine :D