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So late.

I'm so sorry.

Next chapter will be up withing a week. I swears.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Yeah. Like that's legal protection.

"Tell us everything."

There was a curious, borderline wicked smile on Meilins' face as she turned to regard one of her eldest friends. Like most in Ba Sing Se, she took in the horror stories of the Dai Li with a horrified, fascinated interest, hating to hear the all too numerous anecdotes of the victims, yet oddly craving them all the same. Opposite her, sitting backwards on the creaking chair, a bony, unshaven chin resting on the back, Meng winced.

"I don't know what there is to tell." The wooden back was too uncomfortable to lean upon, so he clutched the frame with his fingers, although the pale, dirt-caked skin stretched across sinew and bone did nothing to cushion his chin. "You guys were there... You saw what happened."

"Hell yeah we saw what happened!" Tao cried. "You pulled a house down on top of that Dai Li agent! That was amazing!"

"Yeah..." Meng gave a little shrug, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I guess it was kinda cool." He sighed deeply, closing his eyes. "I paid for it though. Dearly."

"We thought you would have been like, executed." Dai Shi murmured from his position near the foot of the bed. He leaned against the wall, ankles dangling over the side of the thin mattress. Meilin's bare feet were stretched out across his lap, the young man gently massaging a herbal ointment into her swollen ankles in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort.

"To be honest, I'm amazed I wasn't too." Meng swallowed. "But Long Feng said I-"

"Woa, wait!" Tao broke in. "You saw Long Feng?"

"Unfortunately." Meng blew at the hair in his face. "For a few seconds. He looked me up and down whilst I was in chains, said that I was just a kid, and ordered me locked up 'for now'."

"What, so they meant to kill you later?" Meilin breathed, enthralled.

"Probably." Meng's eyes were fixated on the ground. "Well, I'm twenty-one now, which definitely constitutes being an adult. I think they all just forgot. Or maybe they decided life is worse. In that place – it was." He gave an odd little shake of the head. "It's not worth it to make trouble guys. Not to go through that hell. Please tell me you've all been keeping your noses clean." Meng lifted his head, giving each of the young adults a pleading look. "Nothing big."

"I'm not going to risk it." Meilin consoled her friend, a hand resting on her swollen stomach. "I'd have the kid in prison and have it taken away. I might not have planned this, but I still want it now..."

"I want to." Dai Shi admitted. "Every day, when I see them and think about what they've done, not just to you, but to everyone..." He swallowed. "But I'm no good to Meilin locked up, and I'd rather die than become one of their brainwashed puppets."

"Happened to my brother." Tao said simply – not in an attempt to garner pity from Meng, but as a simple fact. "Six months ago, he got caught talking to one of the refugees about the war. They both went missing. He turned up a week later, but he wasn't the same after that. Aunty Lin is furious." He winced at the thought of his siblings' caregiver.

"She still a hard woman?" Meng had to chuckle, despite himself.

"Ha, you have no idea." Yang smirked. "The moment Tao turned eighteen, he was out of there. Never seen a woman so uptight before."

"Oh, whatever." Tao grumbled, rising from his crosslegged position on the floor, arching his back in a stretch. "Hungry Meng?"

"Nah, I'm fine." Meng waved off the offer gratefully. "I ate whilst I was at the Monkey, taking care of Ku- of the weird guy."

"Who is he?" Meilin demanded, a frown creasing her forehead. "He's definitely not Lower Ring. Did you hear how funny he talked?"

"Yeah." Yang agreed. "Was he like, some sort of nobleman or something? What were you doing with him?"

"... Uh." Meng's features were pulled into a deep frown, the young man thinking very hard. "I... I guess I could tell you guys... But you have to promise to keep it secret. I mean it. If you tell anyone and it gets out, then his life is in danger."

"Whose life is in danger?" Dai Shi demanded eagerly, leaning forward a little in anticipation. "Who was he? Someone important who annoyed the Dai Li?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Meng chewed on his lower lip. "Um... It was the Earth King."

"What?"

"No!"

"You're kidding!"

The other four stared at Meng openmouthed, their shock throwing the momentarily raucous room into stunned silence. Meilin was the first to speak, looking very, very troubled.

"Um... Meng." Her voice shook. "Why is the Earth King in trouble with the Dai Li?" Meilin stared at Meng intently, demanding an answer from the young man. "What's h-happening?"

"You guys need to know." Meng's mouth was dry. "And you can tell this to as many people as you can. In fact, spread the news. Make sure everyone is safe and prepared."

"Prepared from what?" Dai Shi breathed, rattled to the core by the sheer expression of blank horror on Meng's face. "What happened?"

"We've lost." Meng rested his forehead on trembling knuckles. "N-Not just the Earth King, not just Ba Sing Se, the entire nation, the fucking world now, it's just-"

"We've lost?" Meilins' voice rose, breaking across Meng's distracted mutterings. "Lost what?"

"The war!" He gritted his teeth, raising his head and hitting the back of his chair. "The war Meilin, it's over. Princess Azula, Fire Lord Ozai's daughter infiltrated the Palace, overthrew Long Feng and the Earth King, and defeated the Avatar." Meng closed his eyes, unable to look at the other faces turned towards him, knowing how contorted in sickening horror they would be. "Th-The people I spoke to, who took the Earth King in, say that the Fire Nation troops will be here in a couple of days, to s-secure the city." He didn't want to face it, didn't want to think about it.

"How? This city i-it's meant to be impenetrable!" Tao voiced what the others were all thinking. "How did that Princess get through the walls?"

"Disguise." Meng whispered, hands shaking. "She fooled everyone into thinking she was an Earth Kingdom warrior and took command of the Dai Li... Clever little..." He trailed off, letting the curse dangle from the edge of his lips, unspoken.

"So what?" Meilin sounded withdrawn and pale. "What happens to us?"

"I don't know." Meng was lost for words. "The people I spoke to..." He didn't release names, of course, for security purposes, "They thought – hoped – that we would just be left alone mainly. Maybe have taxes hiked, to try and squeeze much money out of us as possible. They won't burn Ba Sing Se down, we're too valuable. Apparently."

"This isn't happening." Dai Shi moaned, head in his hands. "This... Is just one big fucked-up... How? What the hell? Where is the Avatar in this! What do you mean defeated, he lost the fight, or dead or what?"

"It's not clear." Meng said quickly, rubbing at his aching eyes. So tired... "I don't know." Oh, he did know, Minsheng told him in detail how their informant at the palace had reported the Bison escaping, with a barely-alive Avatar, his friends, Prince Zuko, and Jin. Jin was gone, she had left Ba Sing Se, joining the most hunted person in the entire world, and yet, ironically, she was safer than she would be if she had stayed with Meng. What is going to happen to this city? Are we going to be one of the ones that are rules with an iron fist, drained of every piece we make through tyrannical taxes? Or will we simply be burned to the ground? Or will we be run out and left to starve in the countryside? Or sold off as slaves for the Fire Nation? Either predicament was sickening, horrific – and totally plausible. It had all happened before. Meng had heard of it.

"I have to go." He spoke after a minute or so of tense, uncomfortable, painful silence. "No one knows I'm back yet... I have to go talk to my mother." Something ached in Meng's chest. I miss her so much... He was a momma's boy, at heart. He was the first-born, the adored golden child. How could he not be, really?

"'Course." Meilin's voice was hoarse. "You other two better go as well... I-It's gonna get dark..."

"Well walk you home." Tao offered as he stood up, forcing a tiny smile. "It's on the way, pretty much."

"All right." Meng agreed, looking and feeling stiff and wooden. He followed the other two down the creaking, lopsided ladder, lightly treading along the dark, narrow hallway, a claustrophobic crawl space between two cramped apartments. He kept his eyes open, not to try and see through the dark, but to keep the images from his head at bay, the half-memories and sick fantasies flashing through his mind with a sharper clarity when the lids were closed. It was exhaustion – sleep deprivation and intense stress were catching up on him. The fact his sanity hung by a threat after four agonizing years of solitary confinement probably didn't help much.

I don't know what's going to happen… if we're going to make it out of this, if Jin is going to be okay… Nothing. It's all a blank. But even though this future is nothing but a big haze of uncertainty and turbulence and possible death, it's better than jail. I think.

His stomach hurt, the organ squeezing the lumpy remnants of food into an uncomfortable ball, like a fist.

I hope.

"You're awake?"

Jin's reply was a soft groan, muffled by the carefully folded shirt, serving as a crude pillow for the semi-conscious girl. She was vaguely aware of a gentle hand on her shoulder, the tentative grip firming, slowly coaxing her to roll over from her protective foetal position and onto her back. Jin obeyed with another soft moan, lifting a clumsy, lifeless hand to rub at her eyes.

"Hey." Jin blinked, her voice dry and trembling. "Where..."

"You're in Ba Sing Se." Zuko leaned over the girl, one hand gently stroking the side of her face, pushing the loose strands of still-damp hair away from her cheek. "Safe. And that's all that matters."

"What happened?" Jin spoke up, and slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, struggling with half-numb arms. "We…" She narrowed leaf-green eyes, trying so hard to think. "Went to the palace..." Jin started, and lifted her gaze with a snap, staring Zuko in the eye. "The Avatar."

"He's fine." It was a half-truth. Zuko leaned against the wall, with his knees pulled up to his chest, legs crossed at the ankle. "They're all fine. They'll be miles and miles away from now." He swallowed, his Adams Apple shifting uncomfortably. "Do you remember anything else."

"Yeah." Jin rubbed at her head. "Water... I remember falling into water... I think... Does that make sense to you?"

"It makes perfect sense to me." Zuko said painfully, eyes focused on the poor excuse of a mattress Jin had been forced to sleep on. "You fell off the Avatar's bison and into Lake Laogai. You… You almost died Jin." He swallowed as his chest stung afresh with the painful memory. "You weren't breathing..."

"Oh, Zuko." Jin pulled herself over to the teenager, leaning against the sagging wall. "It's okay. I-"

"No." He pulled away from her, his voice harsh and biting. Jin recoiled in shock, hurt. "It's not okay Jin. Nothing is okay."

"Zuko-"

"Uncle is gone!" Zuko burst out, hands trembling. Jin froze. "He's a prisoner in the Palace, and it's because of me! It is my fault he's in there!"

"Oh, Zuko-"

"And you know why? He sacrificed himself for me. He didn't care, as long as I did what was right and good for everyone. How damn noble and selfless is that?" His voice cracked, and he swallowed, eyes stinging painfully. "I lied to him. I said that I would never join Aang, that my destiny was to do my fathers' bidding."

"Oh, Zuko." She caught him, wrapping her arms about his shoulders in a tight embrace. He was still, unmoving in her grasp, refusing to recognize her embrace. "I'm so sorry."

"I did it for you." Zuko was crying. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp, insides swelling with horrific shock and guilt. "Azula was going to kill you… Remember?"

"Yes." Jin screwed her eyes shut tight, feeling sick. "Oh Zuko, you didn't."

"I wouldn't be responsible for your death." Zuko stated. A tear trickled along the bridge of his nose, gathering on the tip, until the drip was large enough to splash on his clothes. He refused to wipe them away. To do so would acknowledge their existence. "I've hurt so many people Jin... And I can't add you to the list. Not when I was the one who got you in that mess. I couldn't address the possibility of losing you to Azula."

"But your Uncle."

"It wasn't just for your benefit." It was, oddly, meant to make her feel better, and it did – marginally. "I needed to fool Azula, to convince her that I was on her side, to give Aang and Katara enough time to escape."

"So you two were finally able to work together?" Jin managed a microscopic smile. "Zuko, that's great! I-"

"No." He cut over her flatly, voice dull and lifeless. Jin pulled back with a frown. "It's not. I did something horrible Jin."

"... What?" She asked, still feeling irreparably guilty for forcing Zuko to hurt Iroh. "Zuko, what did you do?" Her voice was so sharp, urgent, that Zuko was coaxed into an immediate reply, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a hurried rush, as though if he would speak the words, they would somehow be less painful.

"I attacked her." Jin's eyes widened as Zuko's head dropped into his arms, which encircled his knees.

"No." Her arm, which was still draped across Zuko's back, tightened. She was becoming more alert with every passing second, her fingertips slowly growing more responsive. "What did she do?" It was Jin's immediate rationalisation. Katara had to have done something to Zuko, to push him that far. There was no way that he would just launch into an unprovoked attack. Jin knew Zuko inside and out, knew how easy it was to set him off and put him into a flying rage. She had grown dangerously close several times, totally unaware how far she was pushing him, until it was too late. It was one of the few traits of his that set alarm bells off in Jin's head. It wasn't just a short temper – she could deal with naturally grumpy men – it was a real problem that Zuko had. She didn't know how to help, she wasn't sure if there was any way she could. How could she undo a lifetime of psychological damage in a few short months? Besides, it was more than a product of negligence and subtle mistreatment. No matter how changed Zuko was, how often he renounced all claims he had to the Fire Nation throne and how ill he spoke of his father, the fact remained that he was Fire Lord Ozai's son. He was bound to carry on some of his traits, be they looks, ability, or personality. His rage sent a shiver of fear through Jin's stomach – it was the only thing that truly frightened her about Zuko.

"She just said a lot of nasty things." Zuko muttered, not raising his head. "I'm a horrible person, I don't deserve anything, I'm egotistical. And she refused to admit I helped her today."

"Ooh, that little…" Jin trailed off, jaw set as she leaned into Zuko's shoulder. "It's okay Zuko. We'll figure this out. Just give her some time to cool off, and-"

"I can't just give it time to cool off!" Zuko stood up, causing Jin to start. "I attacked Katara! Honestly, do you think that Aang will want me around after that? It's obvious he thinks the world of her, he'll never trust me! None of them will ever trust me!" He was shaking, voice rising steadily. "I gave everything to them today!" Zuko kicked at a warped timber box, Jin shrinking away wide-eyed. "I lost Uncle, I lost the very last shred of hope of returning home, and I almost lost you, and for what?" He picked up the battered crate, the timber combusting in his hands. Jin winced as he threw the flaming wood against the wall, balling her hands to mask the trembling. "For nothing! Nothing Jin! That's what Katara thinks of me! That's what I gained from this!" He leaned against the wall, and slid to the floor, the flames dying on the spent, charred wood. "That's what I am."

"Oh Zuko." Jin rushed across the room, sinking to her knees in front of the young male. "You're not nothing." She took his chin firmly, forcing Zuko to look her in the eye. "Don't ever think that." She refused to let her voice or her hand shake, refused to crumble in her resolve. "You are the strongest, kindest person I know, Zuko. Really."

"Then you must know a lot of stinkers." He muttered, spoke glumly, pulling his chin away and looking downward. "I'm not strong! If I was, I would have defeated Azula. If I was kind, I wouldn't have attacked Katara!"

"Oh, shut up!" Jin blurted out, incensed. "Listen to yourself! Katara forced it out of you! She's been wearing you down all night, of course she was finally going to get to you! To be honest, it was probably part of her plan, to try and get you to crack. And Azula… She's insane. Has anyone managed to get the better of her? No." She settled back a bit, licking her lips, thinking. "Look Zuko, you have two choices. You can either sit here, feeling sorry for yourself while the world crashes down around your ears, or you can stand up and do something."

"Like what?" Zuko lifted his head, confusion obvious. "I can't do anything Jin. Not alone. I've never done well by myself."

"Oh honey, you're not alone." One hand cupped the back of Zuko's head, long tanned fingers gently combing the feathery dark strands. "I'm here." Without another word, Jin engulfed the boy in a tight embrace, feeling the roughened skin of his scar brushing her cheek. Jin thought that Zuko would be unresponsive, or worse, push her away, but much to her surprise, he wound his arms around her shoulders, relaxing into the soft, warm figure. "I know I'm not your Uncle," Jin murmured, voice slightly muffled. "And I know you can't trust me like him, but please Zuko, let me help you." She pulled away, the corners of her lips twitching in a smile.

"Jin." Zuko spoke simply, not knowing what else to say. "I… I don't deserve you." He muttered, fixing his gaze upon the ground. "I… I really don't."

"You're being stupid now." She refused to indulge his self-piteous wallowing, and instead turned away, grasping for the nearly-dried threads of clothing. "You do deserve me. You deserve to have someone to be there for you and love you and if you dare say different, I'll hit you." Jin straightened, pulling on her yellow underdress with a smile. "I see you undressed me, too."

"I-I'm so sorry about that." Zuko was snapped out of his reverie, scratching the back of his head and not looking at her. "It's just… your clothes were soaking and you were so cold, and I didn't know what else to do, how to keep you warm…"

"Oh, don't be silly Zuko." Jin threaded her arms through the leaf-coloured overdress. "I'm not mad at you in the slightest. You would be the last person to try anything funny on me, I know that. You're intentions were sweet." She paused, hands suspended in mid-air, clasping her sash. "And to be frank, it wouldn't be the first time someone stripped me whilst I was passed out…"

"What?" Zuko stood up, his own worries forgotten. "Who did that to you? When? I'll kill them! Tell me who it was!"

"Zuko, calm down." There was an odd, closed expression on her face. "Who it was doesn't matter. I asked for it. And it was a long time ago. I'm over it. All of… that."

"How could you have asked for it?" Zuko didn't understand. "Jin, no one asks for that. You can't-"

"You know, if it wasn't you saying this, I'd think you were an idiot." Jin said bluntly, raking her fingers through her hair. The thin ribbon holding her braid together had fallen out someone en route, leaving her to improvise. "I can't believe you haven't clicked yet."

"Clicked on what?" Zuko frowned, watching as Jin groaned in frustration, tugging on fistfuls of hair.

"That I'm damaged goods, Zuko!" Spirits, it was such a crude term. "That I've slept with more guys than I have fingers and toes, that I'm common, I'm easy, that I'm cheap!" Her teeth were set tightly, the girl refusing to let the stinging tears in her eyes fall. She was angry, furious, at Zuko for being so damn dense that she had to spell it out so loudly and plainly. It wasn't fair on her.

"Jin…" Zuko didn't know what to say. There was a sick, hot feeling bubbling in his stomach, realisation that the little backstory he'd built up for Jin in lieu of an explanation was a sweeping misconception. He knew he wasn't the first guy she'd gone out with, she'd stated so plainly herself, but he never would have imagined that she'd gone so far with so many. "Jin, I don't care about that." He lied, taking her hands and looking her in the eye. "Please, listen to me. I don't care. That doesn't mean anything to me. And it shouldn't do you."

"Oh, don't lie." She spoke bitterly, wrenching her hands away. "I know how much pride and honour and all that means to you. I know how much you respect women and build them up to be these goddesses."

"I don't-"

"And I can see how horrified you are." Jin overrode him, swallowing. "Your expression, Zuko. You didn't even try to mask it at first. You find it disgusting."

"No." He was panicking. "No, Jin, I don't." Zuko licked his lips. "Please… Stop thinking like this. I never thought of you as a cheap peasant, I swear. I never even thought about that sort of thing. Don't do this to yourself Jin." His mouth was dry. "Please."

"I'm not a diamond in the rough, Zuko." Jin's voice was very small. "I'm just as gritty and dirty as everyone else. I'm not your delicate little flower."

"I know." Zuko kept a tremor out of his voice. "I never thought that about you Jin. You're far too headstrong and outspoken and tough to be considered delicate. But I never thought…"

"That I was quite so terrible?" She turned away, staring out of the tiny window.

"You're not terrible." He argued, watching her figure tighten. "Don't think for a second you are." Zuko himself crouched down, pulling on his shoes. "Jin, if I sat here and said that it changed everything and I couldn't be near you… I would be the biggest damn hypocrite in the world. And I don't feel like that, besides." He added quickly, heart rate picking up. "I… I love you. Okay?"

Jin bit her lip. She closed her eyes, feeling the soft warmth of his gentle words snake around her insides. He said it he said it he said it and it's true, every word. Instinctively, Jin reached for the necklace at her throat, stomaching dropping as her shaking hand clasped around empty air. Right... It's gone. I forgot...

"I love you too." She smiled, a stretching twinge of the mouth. More. Jin declared stubbornly in her mind. The girl froze, somewhat confused as she felt a pair of arms encircle around her middle, a bony chin resting on her shoulder. "Aw."

"Thank you." Zuko's arms shifted to the slight dip beneath her collarbone, hold tightening. His breath was almost scalding Jin's shoulder, but she didn't move. "What do I do Jin?" Zuko's nose pressed against the crook of her neck. "I-I can't even think."

"Then don't." She turned, Zuko tensing as she faced him. His hands rested on the curve of her waist, their noses almost touching. "You're going to be okay." Jin traced her hand along his good cheek, touch so light she touched not the skin, but the slowly thickening hairs. "We're going to be okay." She stretched her lips into a tiny smile, willing Zuko to do the same. "It's going to work out."

"How?" He wrenched himself free of Jin, turning away and grabbing handfuls of shaggy black hair. "I-I don't... They hate me Jin, more than ever! And Uncle... Oh Agni, Uncle." Zuko directed his gaze back towards Jin, clinging to her sleeves. "We have to go back Jin, we have to rescue him, we can break him out and-"

"Zuko, no." She spoke firmly, heart breaking. "We can't just go and break him out. He's going to be so closely guarded, it's impossible."

"It's not!" His teeth were set. "Jin, we can't leave him there! You know what Azula and my Father will do to him! I can't let that happen! We can't let that happen! If we-"

"Zuko, stop it!" She cut over him, teeth gritted and eyes watering. "We can't do it! I am not letting you just walk to your death, you idiot! I am sorry about Iroh, I really am, but there is nothing we can do about it." She swallowed, staring at the grimy floorboards. Jin just couldn't look Zuko in the eye. She knew the expression that would be written on his face. "We have to just hope that he can take care of himself."

"How can you say that?" Zuko shouted, seizing Jin's shoulders. "How!" Jin screwed her eyes shut, breathing ragged. "I lied to him Jin!" He was shaking her, voice cracking as he yelled. "For you! I lied to him and let him go for you!"

"I didn't ask you to do that!" Jin kept her eyes closed, trembling fingers encircling Zuko's wrists in an attempt to pull him off. "That was your decision, Zuko!"

"What, I was just meant to let Azula kill you?" His breathing was little more than uneven gasps. "Huh?" Zuko shook her roughly, beside himself. "Tell me!"

"I don't know!" Jin cringed away from Zuko, trying to hide her crying. "I-I don't know..."

"Of course I'm not going to do that!" His grip was painfully tight. "Agni Jin, you- you can't even..." Zuko broke off, head bowed. "Anyone, I could lose anyone, and I wouldn't care in the slightest... But when I saw you with Azula... Something just broke in me. I couldn't even think – I just... I..." The teenager pulled away, standing out the window. Fifteen agonizing minutes stretched by, a thick wall of silence pressed up between the young lovers. While Zuko bubbled away, stewing in his inner grief silently, whilst Jin cast her mind about desperately, trying to think of something – anything – that could break the torturous silence.

"And I'm so sorry." Jin finally murmured, blotting her eyes with her hem. "You don't know how sorry I am Zuko. I know how much he meant to you... and if there was any way, I would be all for it. But we c-can't." Zuko's hands were on the warped windowsill, head bowed. "Do you think that would be what he wanted?"

"I know what he wants." Zuko spoke bitterly. "You know. Better than me, apparently." A knot tightened in his stomach. "I've failed him again."

"No." Jin took one of his hands, shaking her head. "Zuko you haven't failed him. Think about it. If it wasn't for you, the Avatar would be dead, the Earth King would be imprisoned... Things would be so much worse for everyone. You were a hero today."

"A hero who attacked Katara." Zuko refused to budge in his conviction. "Who made himself permanent enemies with Aang. Who lost his temper and lashed out, again." He pulled his hand away, jaw set like a rock.

"Let it go, Zuko." Jin pleaded. "Don't ruminate on it. You'll only feel worse." She cast her eyes to the ceiling, thinking deeply. "Look... Perhaps there is some other way for you to help the world. You're still one of the most important players in this game Zuko. Don't count yourself out just because you can't join the Avatar yet."

"No." Zuko shook his head firmly. "Not without my Uncle. I wouldn't know what to do, where to start. The last time were separated, it went horribly wrong. I can't do anything on my own." He kicked at the wall. "It's pathetic." I'm pathetic.

"You're not alone." Jin ventured cautiously. "Zuko... I know it doesn't count for much and I'm not a warrior or a fighter or a strategist or anything, but I can still help you somehow. I'm not stupid."

"Oh Jin." He turned to her, shoulders slumped. "You don't know what you're saying. You don't want to involve yourself in this War."

"I already have." Jin argued. "And... I know it didn't go so well..." She winced. "But I still want to help you." The girl took Zuko's hand once more. "Why should I stay in Ba Sing Se? Zuko, I have a record. I'm one incident away from being taken away by the Dai Li. And the troublemakers will go first. They'll be the examples." She bit her lip. "I'm not safe here."

"You're not safe anywhere." Zuko sighed, taking Jin in a tight embrace. "Especially if you choose to stick around with me."

"I'm not going to leave you." Jin relaxed in Zuko's hold, closing her eyes. "I-I don't care about the cost. Do you know what it was like before you?" Long fingers curled in Zuko's robe. "It was nothing, Zuko. Just this big empty pit that I tried to fill, with drinking and boys and trouble. I was nothing. People treated me like I was nothing, I earned next to nothing, I had nothing to call my own. I had nothing to care about. Sure, I have my family, and I love them to bits but at the same time, they drive me insane. And we were all in so much pain, no one had a scrap of comfort to lend to one another. I would wake up, knowing exactly what was going to happen every day. I could go through it with my eyes closed and fingers in my ears, and no one would notice." She sniffed. "I can't go back to that kind of life. I can't go back to that... that nothing." Jin suppressed a minor shudder, feeling Zuko's hold tighten on her.

"All right." Zuko nodded, pulling away so he could look her in the face. He wasn't going to argue with her. He didn't want to. The thought of being alone terrified him almost as much as being returned to his father. If Jin was prepared to follow him to whatever end, he wasn't going to fight with her. He needed her. "So... Whatever happens..." He swallowed, forcing a smile. It faltered after a heartbeat, however. Zuko's soul just wasn't in it. "Together?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way." She smiled, a real, genuine smile that warmed Zuko, to the tips of her toes. "Now c'mon. The light's starting to fail and I don't wanna be here when it gets dark."

"Uh, okay." Zuko nodded as she pulled herself free. Jin pottered around the room, half-groping in the gloom for anything that may have been left behind. "So where are we going?"

"Somewhere where we can have as much food and drink as we like and the owners won't even consider turning us in." Jin straightened. "Home."

Damn it Meng, just open the bloody door!

He'd been standing on the threshold for a good five minutes, a clenched fist hovering inches from the scratched panelling. Why are you so scared about this? He wanted to smack his head against the door, cursing his own foolishness, but desisted. They'll be happy to see you. Jin said so herself. Why do you have any reason to not come home?

Because. Meng swallowed. He knew the reason. The change. He was secretly terrified. It was a horrible jolt, to see Jin after four years, so much older, matured, changed. Meng knew that it was inevitable – the world didn't stop turning for him whilst he was in jail, and his siblings and parents were bound to age – but nevertheless the trepidation and uncertainty rose in his stomach as the minutes ticked by. Will they even recognise me? I bet I look different. Of course I do. Meng was chewing on his lower lip. But my friends recognized me... And I'm sure my family will too.

Just open the damn door!

Inhaling a deep lungful of air, Meng turned the brass handle, pushing his weight on the door – which often stuck – in an attempt to open it. He was met with resistance, however, the door refusing to budge an inch. The man paused, resting a hand on a hip as he frowned. What the... He tried again, but was met with the same refusal. It was locked. It was never locked... We never had anything to steal. They must be afraid of some sort of invasion...

Meng collected himself, and with another deep breath, the first wasted, he knocked firmly on the door, hearing the dull, hollow thud fill the hallway. He could make out a soft pattering of child's feet, and a second later, the deadbolt was drawn, the door pulled open. A freckly-faced child of five stood on the threshold, looking up at him with confusion.

"Hello?" Meng's breath died in his throat. "Can I help you, mister?"

"Ch-Chang?" He ventured cautiously. "Is... Is that really you?"

"Yes?" Chang cocked his head to one side, frowning. "Who are you?"

"Can I come in?" Meng avoided the question carefully, his hands shaking. Chang nodded, and pulled the door so Meng was able to enter the room. The man's stomach lurched as he studied the main room of the flat, nails digging into his palms. It was almost exactly the same. The same knick knacks gleaned on the narrow shelf above the stove, the same row of herb jars rested on the counter, the same plates were even stacked in the corner. All this he took in with a second, breath shaking.

"Chang, who was at the door?" Meng's head whirled as Shan's voice crept along the hallway. "Did you let them in?"

"It's some guy." Chang called back, looking at Meng a little suspiciously. "He knows my name though." Shan's figure loomed in the doorway, arms clutching a woven wash basket piled with dirty sheets.

"Well did you..." Shan trailed off as she stepped into the afternoon-lit room, eyes widening. The wash basket fell to the floor with a soft cry, off-white linen tumbling across the floor. She knew, Meng noticed, with another lurch of the stomach. Of course she knows. I'm her son. He couldn't take his eyes of the careworn woman, an odd horror building. She was older, greyer, thinner than Meng remembered. The picture he held in his mind, of a stout, smiling woman who was as hard as steel, crumbled in an instant. She'd aged in the past four years – badly. Although Shan was only thirty-four, she could pass as fifty. I nearly killed her...

"Meng!" The word came out as a choked sob, Shan doubling over as her knees buckled. Meng sprang forward, managing to rescue her before she fell onto the floor.

"Yes Ma." He half-walked, half-carried his mother to her chair beside the stove, thinking that he himself would pass out. "I-I... I'm back." He tried to straighten himself, so he could sit in the other chair and talk, but Shan wound her bony arms around Meng's neck with an iron grip, refusing to let go. "I... I'm so sorry..." He swallowed, the back of his eyes burning. "I just... I'm so sorry Ma." Shan didn't say anything – she was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, almost choking Meng. "I didn't want to hurt you." Damn now I'm crying. He sniffed pathetically, shaking his head. And I expected less? "O-Or anyone." Meng tried to pull himself away, and once more, Shan's hold forced him to stay. The somewhat awkward position made his arms tremble with the strain, but he forced the sensations away, trying to hug his mother for as long as he could. But his touch was cautious, ginger. The embrace of this frail middle-aged woman was a far cry from the bone-crushing hugs he received as a young child, from a mother who was tall, straight, proud and strong. And it rattled him to the core.

This isn't my mother.

Meng pulled away from the woman, sinking into the other chair with a sigh. He heard the muffled sob from his mother, the weak sniff as she wiped at her nose with a grubby handkerchief, but kept his hands folded in his lap, a twisting, sinewy maze of paper-thin skin and bones. The young man leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. He could feel the eyes of his youngest brother, resting on him somewhat mistrustfully, and couldn't meet the child's gaze.

That's not my baby brother.

Oh, how stubborn his mind was being! Meng felt a scream rise in his throat, a savage desire to burst into a fit of rage.

This isn't my family.He wished he could cry again, find some pathetic, subdued outlet for his emotional tempest. Outwardly, he was a dry husk, brittle, hollow, and withered. Inwardly, he panicked. This isn't Ma and Chang and Jin and it won't be Dad and Jiro and Hai they're all other people, who have lived, have lived and gone on for four years while I've been locked up like a dog.

Meng hated the Dai Li – particularly Long Feng – more viciously, more agonizingly than he thought it possible. He wanted to attack them like a beast, crush them under stone and bury them alive. They look my life away. His nails bit onto the wooden armrests, teeth grinding against each other. Meng could only take a fragment of pleasure from the knowledge that Long Feng had lost it all, and faced only humiliation and imprisonment. Princess Azula could think up the sickest, most inventive and horrific brand of torture known to man, inflict it for no reason, and it would cause only a minute flicker in Meng's heart. Further pain wasn't going to regain the four years he had lost.

It should have quelled the rage in Meng's chest. It should have smothered the inferno – but it didn't. He was aware of the helplessness of it – that nothing he could possibly do would ever reverse the situation, that the best thing he could do would be to put it behind himself, get on with it, and resume his normal routine. But it didn't make him feel settled, it didn't soothe. The basic, bloodthirsty instinct for savage revenge only increased at the thought.

He looked down at his hands, examined the grimy skin, so pale it seemed translucent, the blue veins jutting out plainly. Meng released his grasp on the chair, turning his hands so he could look at the palms. More pale, more visible bones and veins, more dirt. With a shudder, Meng sat on his hands, not wanting to look at them, not wanting to associate the shrunken appendages with himself. They're not mine they belong to someone else this is still some kind of sick twisted nightmare. He closed his eyes, head bowed. Nightmare. This was worse.

"Ma." He choked out, daring to look to his right, peeking across at her. The woman stilled, and after a moment of frozen recognition, raised her gaze to her eldest son. "Ma... I need a bath of sorts... A-And... Some clothes."

"Yes." She stood up, the handkerchief disappearing somewhere inside her apron. Shan made her way to the large basin of water with an alarming rate. Busting and businesslike, she threw herself into the chore. "Of course honey... Just give me a few minutes to heat up some water." A large, clean saucepan of water was set on the stove with a pained groan, the tiny metal door pulled open, coal added. "I'll go and find some old clothes of your fathers... they might be a wee bit too short in the leg, but they'll do for now." She disappeared into the dark passage, leaving the two males alone in the room. Chang fingered one of his crude wooden toys, large olive eyes fixed carefully on the brother that he had never known.

"You look sick." He was painfully tactless. Meng's eyes darted upwards, regarding his brother for a second, before drifting back to his knees. He gave a tiny, vacant shrug. "Are you sick?"

"... I suppose." Meng's voice was a dry rasp. "In a way." His head sank to his hands, elbows propped up on the wooden arms. Sick. Insane. Maybe. The man was drained, exhausted beyond belief. How long had it been, how many months, since he had slept a full night? How many times had he been jerked awake by a clang of metal, an anguished sob, a scream? How many times had he lain in a catatonic state, half-awake, half-dreaming, unable to distinguish fiction from reality? His trances lasted for days, where only the brutish jab, a kick or a punch from a guard who noticed his food had been totally untouched, snapped him free. Maybeinsane?

"Honey." Meng snapped awake as Shan shook his arm gently. "I've got a bucket of hot water and soap in Jin's room. I laid out some clothes, too."

"Jin's room?" He mumbled with a frown. "When did she..."

"Oh. Right." A pained expression crossed her face. "I'm sorry. It's... It's the old storeroom." The handkerchief found dim indoor light, for just a moment. "Second door on the left."

"I got it." He stood up, joints aching. Meng felt enfeebled as he made his way to the room that had changed, brushing his fingers along the wall to establish his bearings in the dark – He'd felt almost blinded all day, after being thrust into the bright, harsh sun, after four years of near-complete darkness. His head felt stuffed with cotton wool: thick, overfull, and yet oddly light.

This was better. Meng sighed as he closed the door behind himself, looking around the tiny room. The skylight had been pulled open, illuminating the space without exposing Meng to the too-bright sun. He knelt beside the water, lathering the sponge with the sweet-smelling soap, and closed his eyes tightly before removing his clothes. He wasn't going to look – he didn't want to see how wasted he had become. Just looking at his hands was enough to make Meng's stomach turn. He scrubbed at himself vigorously with the hard-bristled brush, working by touch and feel in the self-imposed darkness until the water was black and cold and every inch of his skin tingled painfully. Thusly satisfied, Meng fumbled around blindly for the coarse towel, finding it spread on Jin's stick of a bed alongside his new clothes. He pulled the well-darned shirt and trousers on without drying properly, wanting to dry his hair before the single towel was completely saturated.

"Meng?" His mother knocked on the door cautiously. "Can I come in?"

"Yes!" He called back, after a few halted attempts. The door swung open with a click, Shan smiling weakly at her son.

"You look... Better." She tried lamely, after examining him for a few moments. "Cleaner, at least."

"Thanks." Meng let the towel drop to the floor, unable to eke out any more water from his near-dreadlocked hair. He wasn't up for any further conversation, and watched dumbly as his mother picked up the disgusting rags that passed as clothing for four years, the towel, and the bucket of putrid water. He listened to her creak along the passage, knowing the process. She would throw the water out the window, scrub the bucket thoroughly before using it again, boil the towel twice in chemicals before washing it, and burn the clothes in the stove. It was a purification ritual, a cleansing. As though destroying the clothes he had worn, shifting the dirt that caked his skin for so long would peel back the last four years, revealing beneath the naïve, sturdy boy of sixteen.

I wish. He lay stretched out on Jin's bed, arms folded behind his head, staring at the dark ceiling. It was heaven, to sleep on a mattress, with blankets and a pillow, instead of finding the softest piece of iron to curl up on. This is something I can definitely get used to though.

I can't believe Jin has her own room now. He though idly. Lucky girl.

... Where is she. Meng curled up, facing the wall. Where's the Avatar... Safe... I hope. I can't believe I let her go like that... What was I thinking? She's probably made herself an enemy of the Fire Nation now. A full-blown criminal. Guilty, in their eyes, for helping someone in trouble. I know how that feels all right.

The world turned without me. He sounded selfish, a spoiled child, plaintive and obstinate. But he could not help it. Meng lay on his back once more, arching his back and curling his toes in a long stretch. His limbs were leaden, mind vacantly drifting in and out of consciousness. Before he could fall completely asleep, however, a pair of large brown eyes fixated themselves in Meng's mind. Set in a small, rounded face, they stared at him accusingly. Where did you go? The demand, although wordless, was obvious. Why?

Heart breaking, Meng buried his face in the pillow, shaking violently. No no no no... She can't be changed she can't be different no her I'll go crazy if she is. Too much, it's too much and I can't take this I don't know what on earth to do anymore.

Despite the desperate train of thought, Meng eventually slipped into a doze, pure exhaustion forcing him to sleep, where he had nightmares about dead bodies strewn about dark rooms and kneeling in pools of blood, although they vanished from his mind by the time he woke.

uuughghghghghghhg

I could make up some bullshit about 'dark intrigue' and 'deep psychological analysis' but that was just emo melodrama. I tried to cut it out, but it just didn't work otherwise. It was too jarring. I'm such a terrible writer.

CHAPTER 20 WILL BE WITHIN A WEEK. That's a promise.