A. N. : Last chapter was pretty long, but this one escaped that fate. Had to cut it in half, actually, in part for the length, and in part because it just flowed better that way. Chill chapter, all in all.

Zuko sits alone.

The others set up camp a little farther away. No one dared disturb him after his outburst and he can't believe he – he was holding Lin – he was holding Lin and not thinking, and what if he hurt her, what if he lost control and burned her, what if –

In – out –

His eyes sting.

He hates it. Hates losing himself like that, hates that he could end up harming her, just like –

He wonders what Azula's punishment will be. She's perfect, Father's perfect daughter, and Zuko has no doubt that she will go back to the Caldera to take whatever the price of her failure will be, because Zuko kneeled and begged for forgiveness and Father called him dishonorable, and Azula is always better.

Zuko doesn't want that. As twisted as she is, Azula doesn't deserve – she's – she's Father's daughter, the same as Zuko was his son, and she shouldn't have to go through that too. No one should.

And she – she looked so scared – Zuko had never seen her like that before, she was always the strong one.

You hungry ? – Zuko looks up in surprise, sees Jet standing a few meters away, holding slices of smoked meat on top of rice crackers. Ugh. Again !? He can't believe he's thinking this, but he's starting to miss having to eat fish every day with the Water Tribe warriors. At least it was warm.

Jet laughs, probably seeing the disappointment on Zuko's face, jokes that at least he has meat – think of poor Aang, he says, but his smile doesn't exactly show much sympathy for the Avatar's plight.

Zuko just shakes his head and holds out his hand for the food.

He doesn't exactly expect Jet to stick around, but isn't really surprised to see him sit down either – on Zuko's right, which Zuko hadn't noticed was unusual until now.

That's – nice, he thinks. Unsettling, too. Jet knows, although Zuko isn't really sure how much he's figured out exactly, but he doesn't bring attention to it, usually. There's no pity from Jet, never, and somehow Zuko thinks there isn't any this time either.

It's just… considerate, he guesses. It's nice.

He eats in silence while Jet talks – about Sokka and how he opened his eyes, said he wanted meat, and fell right back asleep. Typical, he says. He talks about Lin, about her apparent dislike for the meat – probably the spices – and how much rice crackers gruel she ate and how Jet has no idea where she's putting all that food in that tiny body of hers. About how she's doing fine, playing with – he takes a breath – playing with Uncle's beard. Zuko hopes this time won't end in an unfortunate haircut.

Jet doesn't ask Zuko how he's doing. Just sits there and talks, like they're back in Ba Sing Se, spending the evening out in the city, eating noodles with Smellerbee and Longshot, instead of bland crackers and dry meat with just the two of them.

It's nice.

Zuko closes his eyes, takes a breath. He's finished eating. Jet has stopped talking.

There's no pity from Jet, only enough consideration to let Zuko eat in peace until Zuko decides it's time to talk – but not enough consideration to let Zuko pretend there's nothing to talk about.

He closes his eyes. Opens them again.

Turns his head to face Jet.

They'll have questions, Jet says, and Zuko looks away. He knows – he knows, heard them talk when he ran away after almost hurting Lin, and he thinks it would've been easier if Jet had just let Uncle tell them, but –

Zuko lifts a hand to his cheek, just under the burn. It would've been easier, but it wouldn't have been fair. He can't rely on Uncle forever, even if – even if talking about that day, about Father –

He sighs.

Jet says he doesn't have to tell them – he could say it's none of their business, or Jet or Uncle could talk in his stead. Says it's his choice, and Zuko understands, and – he could do that.

It would be right.

It wouldn't be fair.

They're all on the back of the same bison, Zuko adds, and Jet lets out a short laugh – what !? – and Zuko just shrugs. Jet shakes his head in disbelief, then looks at Zuko and nods. Puts a hand on Zuko's shoulder. He'll stay right next to Zuko, he says, if that's alright of course – Zuko nods. It would be nice.

Jet smiles, squeezes Zuko's shoulder, and gets up, stretching his arms dramatically. He looks like he's about to say something, but Zuko is feeling maybe a little nostalgic, or maybe a little tired, or maybe even both at the same time, and his mouth moves before his brain can really follow.

It's fine if Jet stays here now, too, he says.

Apparently Jet wasn't expecting Zuko to say that anymore than he was, because he just stands there, with the dumbest face ever, for a moment too long.

Sure, he answers, finally, sitting back down and resting his back against a tree. He turns his face to the sky, closes his eyes. Zuko leans back against his own tree and does the same.

It's nice.