LNYE Fic: Enemies and Friends, for Nan

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Title: Enemies and Friends
By: gigerisgod
Recipient: Nan
Rating: General, some language
Characters: Zuko, Jet, Iroh, some Smellerbee, Long Shot
Content Notes: spoilers through Season Two, Lake Laogai, suggested child abuse

Prompt Details: I would really like to see Jet live through the situation at Lake Laogai and become a member of the team. How does he react when Zuko joins in too? While an angsty, oblivious, dorky Zuko is awesome, I'm not interested in him being overly submissive, and while I like dirty talk, real humiliation is a no-go. On the other hand, I would be pretty happy with snarky banter and fighting! I'm good either way.

Zuko had always thought doing the right thing was supposed to make him feel good. Yet somehow, standing here in a dank cell beneath Lake Laogai with nothing to show for a night's work but some clumps of bison fur and a headache, he feels anything but good. He's exhausted after playing cat and mouse with the Dai Li through half the lower ring and now he thinks he might even feel a little nauseous.

When Uncle brought up the Avatar and his failure at the North Pole it was like opening an old wound. Then, when he demanded – begged - Zuko to look inward and start asking himself the big questions – who are you and what do you want – that raw, painful feeling rushed over him to the point of speechlessness. Tired and defeated, he capitulated to Uncle's reason and reluctantly let the Avatar's bison go, but he didn't share Uncle's satisfaction afterwards, only a deep sense of loss.

It's not that he didn't want to please Uncle, but letting the bison go was a step away from letting the Avatar go, along with any chance at returning home. And that's the problem. Uncle may not be saying that exactly, but it is what he's asking him to do. Uncle has been steering him in this direction since he lost his ship, since the disaster in the North. But this time Uncle wasn't couching his point behind mild-mannered proverbs or metaphors or even Pai Sho. Iroh's voice roared at him like he so rarely did, even though they were hiding from the Dai Li. Uncle Iroh's anger was such a rare thing that Zuko sometimes found himself deliberately provoking it just to see if he could, if only to glimpse something of the old Dragon of the West. But this time Zuko hadn't been prepared.

Uncle wasn't about to let him turn his back on the peaceful life they were building in Ba Sing Se - not for the sake of some wild ostrich chase that was never intended to succeed. But if he doesn't accomplish what he set out to do, then Zuko will be the failure his father always believed him to be. All he has left is the mercy of Uncle's sage advice; setting the bison free because it was the right thing to do - the sensible thing. What does that even mean? Zuko trusts Uncle's judgment the way he trusts no one else, even if Zuko doesn't always understand his reasons, he knows Uncle would never deliberately lead him astray.

He had come so close once again. But the Avatar's bison has gone while he stood there and just watched it go! He let a chance like that simply slip away and now he'll never reclaim his birthright, never see his home again and he'll never reconcile with his father.

This should anger him or frighten him or at the very least make him sad. But Uncle pats him reassuringly on one shoulder and he hits a new low because he feels nothing, absolutely nothing at all.

Zuko doesn't look at Uncle as he moves past, catching the all too familiar scent of jasmine on his clothes. He focuses instead on getting out, checking the passageway to make certain their exit is clear. Because it's bad enough to lose the Avatar's bison, but ending up a prisoner of the Dai Li is just too much for one day.

His headache is beginning to pulse in his temples and if he can just get home – not home, a voice whispers - he can shut the world out for a few precious hours and vomit the way his body wants to in some semblance of peace. But the little tenement he shares with his Uncle will never feel like home. It's just a place to hide and rest for a while, another stop among a string of endless stops on a map, the holding pattern of his life since exile.

Suddenly voices echo along the stone corridor, dashing any hope of retching his insides out and collapsing into exhaustion.

Zuko stops in his tracks and listens to the young, strikingly familiar voices. One of them in particular, cuts through the haze of uncertainty like a blade through his chest.

Jet.

He knows that voice, can't forget it, whether barbed with anger in his Uncle's tea shop or soft and approachable back on the ferry - back when that voice claimed to know who he was and didn't hate him for it.

"You're an outcast, like me. And us outcasts have to stick together. We have to watch each other's backs, because no one else will."

Under Lake Laogai though, Jet's voice sounds much different. He's not far away, but something doesn't ring right. He can't distinguish specific words, just hushed tones. When Zuko hears the choked off moan, his worry is justified.

Jet was fiercely perceptive. He hadn't known Zuko at all, had only just met him and immediately sensed a common bond. They were outcasts. He was an outcast and no made up name or history would let Zuko pretend otherwise, any more than Uncle or Jet would allow him to pretend.

Of course, that goes a long way toward explaining why both of them tend get under his skin so damned easily.

Why wouldn't he find Jet under Lake Laogai, complicating things for him once again? Zuko did watch the Dai Li take him away. Where did he think they would bring him?

He hadn't given much thought about what happened to Jet after their fight. Zuko had no reason to. Jet attacked him and he wasn't hurting anyone. All he's done since he got to this cursed place is serve tea!

Jet tried to expose him and Uncle as fire benders by tricking him into using his bending. He shouldn't have to justify self-preservation to anyone, least of all himself. But he remembers the look on Jet's face when he wouldn't bend, the sheer frustration beating beneath the surface. Zuko had shown him he was more than capable of defending himself without resorting to fire bending.

Jet thought he had him all figured out. Zuko showed him what he thought he knew amounted to nothing.

But even as Zuko forms that thought, he knows he's not being completely fair. Jet knew enough to be dangerous for a number of reasons. The fact that Zuko cares at all is reason to stay away from him.

On the ferry he and Uncle told Jet they were looking for a fresh start, second chances. Jet said he had come looking for the same thing.

Zuko had only acted in self-defense. Is it possible that Jet's motivations weren't all that different from his own?

Jet acted like a lunatic at the tea shop, making a spectacle, deliberately trying to draw attention, hoping he or Uncle would bend with plenty of witnesses around.

Zuko's been out in the world. He knows how people feel about fire benders now. Jet wanted to get them arrested because it would keep everyone else safe – safe from them - because it was the right thing to do. And Jet had been right – he and Uncle were fire benders. Jet spoke up because he felt strongly about something and ended up in prison for it.

Zuko spoke up once and it hadn't gone so well for him either. One more thing they have in common. The thickened skin surrounding his eye itches like a reflex.

Another voice peaks his attention and this one is more feminine. Zuko thinks it could belong to that odd girl traveling with Jet on the ferry. She sounds upset. Zuko's not used to the sound of girls crying.

Zuko crouches down, laying his gloved palm on the stone, breaths warm and moist inside his mask. If he concentrates, he can hear the soft rustle of clothing and feel the scrape of feet from some distance away. Dai Li are coming, and several of them by the sound of it.

The voices are muffled, but he's no earth bender. If he's heard Jet and his companions then the Dai Li already have, too.

These people are not his problem. Ba Sing Se is not his home, no matter how much Uncle may want him to set down roots and embrace this new life. Accepting one means abandoning another and he doesn't know if he can do that, doesn't know if he'll ever be ready to do that. He does know letting the Avatar's bison go was a baby step in that direction. Uncle cares about him and Uncle is wise and Uncle said he was doing the right thing, but he doesn't know how to live with himself when it conflicts with everything he's been taught. It's all so fucking confusing.

Even right now, the sensible thing to do would be to let the Dai Li take that lunatic, Jet, and whoever else is stupid enough to be caught with him, use that distraction to get him and Uncle out safely. That would be the smart thing, but it doesn't necessarily mean it's the right thing.

Ever since they got to Ba Sing Se things have been a mess in his head. Uncle says he needs to ask himself the big questions. Who is he? As if living under an assumed name while hiding his true identity and denying his fire bending makes it clear. It's hypocritical is what it is. Nothing makes any sense anymore!

Jet mumbles something and then just keens, suffering that's loud and painful even to Zuko's ears. Zuko sighs, fingers grazing the edges of his mask.

He thinks about that little kid, Li, and the hateful way he had looked at him when he found out he was a fire bender – the same look Jet's hard eyes had. Zuko bore some of the responsibility for Li getting captured by those soldiers, just like he bears a certain amount of responsibility for Jet's imprisonment now. He thinks his life would be enormously easier if he could just walk away from things, particularly from people, Avatar included, but he's never taken the easy way.

The blue spirit has never had any difficulty with the concepts of right and wrong. It moves in the dark places people seldom look and takes what it wants. It is efficient, deadly, and unwavering. Wraiths have no need to justify their actions. It has liberated food and tea sets, gold, and an Avatar. So, why not Jet?

At the very least it might piss off the Dai Li, which is reason enough to spring the bastard. He can think about who the fuck he's supposed to be and what he wants later. Zuko draws his swords and moves in the direction of Jet's voice.

"You guys need to go," Jet says to Smellerbee and Long shot, trying to keep his expression fixed and his voice even, but it hurts just to breathe and he's pretty sure it's a wasted effort anyway. He grimaces on every inhale like he's breathing through shards of broken glass.

Bee squeezes his hand tightly. She's shaking her head, carding her thin fingers through his sweaty hair. "No way, Jet. We aren't going to leave you."

There are tear tracks through the war paint on the apples of her cheeks. It looks like bleeding gashes cut into her skin, like some freakish premonition of what's going to happen to her if she stays here. He can't live with that, even if it turns out that's not so long. Jet can't fight. He can barely breathe and the Dai Li are coming. The situation is hopeless.

"Long Shot. Please. Talk some sense into her."

But all the other boy does is look at him solemnly with those dark eyes and shake his head once in refusal before turning his bow and his attention back on the door - where the Dai Li are eventually going to appear.

Their loyalty to him is going to get them killed or brainwashed or both and despite this they won't abandon him. He'd never abandon them either, but he had to try.

He barely hears them before several Dai Li appear in the doorway. Those guys creep the living hell out of Jet. The long green robes, those hidden eyes and rock fists. They screw with people's minds and they did that to him.

There's four of them, enough to be a big problem. If they were back in the forest, able to use the trees for cover they'd stand a fighting chance. But here, surrounded on all sides by an earth bender's element, they're toast. Smellerbee's drawing her knives and Longshot is ready to take the first shot because they never go without a fight. Just this once he wishes they'd surrender and it's a selfish thing. It's one thing to go down fighting. It's another to have to just lay here and watch your friends get picked off.

His chest is full of knives and white sparks of pain blossom behind his eyes. His fingers claw and twist in Smellerbee's sleeve until the cloth begins to tear.

The sound of steel impacting something hard startles him from his agony, its ring shrill against his eardrum. It's quickly followed by Smellerbee's gasp and when his eyes to focus back at the door, two of the Dai Li lie motionless on the ground.

The other two agents have taken defensive stances; one turned toward them while the other faces behind. Jet can't see what's there until something moves out of the greenish shadows. Someone dressed in form-fitting black steps out into the lamplight carrying twin broadswords.

The face is…there is no face…just a mask. It's a blue and white Oni mask, fashioned in a demon's face. And here Jet thought the Dai Li were creepy. The expression is fierce even as it tilts and grins at the Dai Li.

Long Shot uses the moment of surprise to launch the first shot and the Dai Li to his right drops to one knee with a grunt. The arrow neatly pierces his arm, just above the wrist. If they're very lucky the tendon's severed and he won't be able to bend worth a shit. Bee's even quicker after that, one of her knives pinning the sleeve of his other arm to the crevice in the floor.

The last Dai Li is trying to nail the freak in the mask, hurling chunks of mortar and stone blocks at him. But the freak is fast. Really fast. He moves up the walls, clinging to it like an earth bender, blocking debris with his blades in fluid arcs of motion, scaling and jumping and dodging like an acrobat.

He and Smellerbee and Long Shot get a little distracted watching them and not noticing that the Dai Li with the maybe-not-so-severed tendon has gotten his good arm free. Jet spots it out of the corner of his eye, but can't get his mouth functioning fast enough to warn them, only managing a shallow wheeze where his voice should come out.

Pieces of the wall break loose and shoot through the air, headed straight for him and Smellerbee. There's only time for Bee to shield him with her body, covering his head and chest and anything else she can reach. He clutches at her, feels her heart beating too fast. He's never felt so utterly helpless.

The clang of steel is suddenly loud in his ears again and something crashes to the floor nearby. They're pelted with a few stones and grainy pebbles, but nothing bigger than that. Smellerbee moves aside enough for him to see the twin swords crossed above their heads, the man wielding them on his knees, together blocking the assault like a shield. He pushes off the ground to make a run at their attacker. Jet hears a sickening crack moments later.

Jet can imagine how much strength it must have taken to deflect that blow. Jet's never seen anyone with that kind of skill. But the truth is he has. He was up against that kind of skill and his body still feels phantom pains from that fight.

Li.

But that's crazy. Li wouldn't be caught dead here. The Dai Li left him and his damned uncle alone while he was taken away and brainwashed.

Jet tries to remember the way the other had moved, comparing it in his mind to the strange person that just saved them. Li had been that good, but that can't… it just can't be right.

Benders didn't need to learn other methods of fighting and Li was fire, wasn't he? He saw his uncle bend the tea. But Jet hurts so much and feels so dizzy that he's not all that sure anymore. Maybe it's just the memory of Li that suddenly has him thinking he smells Jasmine and tea leaves. Or maybe he's looking for some sort of sense where there isn't any.

There's another thud on the ground. Jet's eyes sweep feverishly in that direction just in time to see the last Dai Li go into a sprawl on the floor. One of Long Shot's arrows is lodged somewhere in his midsection. Jet figures the bastard is muttering and complaining enough that he should live.

The person that just saved him and Smellerbee has gotten to his feet and is looking at them, tilting its blue ceramic face like it's curious. He keeps his weapons at his sides, but the way he holds his body doesn't feel threatening and he did just help them out.

Jet is watching him, sizing him up, but totally distracted by the way his chest rises and falls quickly and deeply from the exertion. His own broken chest feels that much tighter for looking.

"Uh, thanks?" Smellerbee says sounding really hesitant, still holding herself over Jet like a mother platypus-bear.

The guy says nothing, not one fucking word, just nods once and points a sword toward the door with a long arm, the meaning all too clear. Long Shot and Smellerbee exchange worried glances. She looks over him to Long Shot and then down at his face.

"C'mon, Jet. We'll carry you. You can make it."

The idea of any sort of movement is torturous, but if they're determined to go through with this, he's powerless to stop them.

He squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth against the pain. When he opens them again his eyes meet with the ones behind the mask, tiny pinpoints of amber light behind the eyeholes. Jet would swear that thing is animated like a real face, his feverish imagination shaping it with a personality. Why is this person helping them? A little broken-sounding laugh escapes at the idea he could make it out of this thing alive.

Who the hell goes around dressed in dark clothing and freaky masks helping kids escape secret government prisons? Seriously. Jet would really, really like to know. He can't worry about that anymore because someone is coming.

Tall, dark and quiet turns back to the door with his broadswords raised and Long Shot and Smellerbee get ready for another throw down with the Dai Li.

"Nephew, I see you have found some old friends."

Jet's eyes go wide at the sound of that voice and a breath later the old man, Mushi, appears in the doorway, as calm as if he were taking a stroll through the lower ring marketplace instead of the Dai Li's stronghold.

And wait. That's Mushi. And he said… Nephew. But that means…

Li?

"Uncle!"

Jet knows that rasp, too. The mask is shaking its fake head and every line of that body screams frustration, but then deflates, like the guy's too tired for this kind of shit at all. He places his swords in the scabbard on his back and then removes the mask and hood.

Then it's just Li standing there, his hair a long shaggy mess hanging in his eyes, looking petulant and awkward and really young.

What the hell is going on here?

"I think they would have figured it out eventually." Mushi says, and Li shoots him an angry glare. Why wouldn't he want them to know who he was?

"Li? Are you kidding me?" Smellerbee says, looking at least half as confused as he feels.

Mushi approaches him, but Long Shot moves to block his path. The old man holds his hands out in front to placate his friends.

"I do not mean to alarm you, but I would suggest we make our escape before we are discovered by more Dai Li. My nephew and I are here to help, but we must hurry."

"Jet's hurt bad," Smellerbee blurts out. As if it weren't completely fucking obvious.

"Bee," he tries, grabbing for her hand, but it slips from his reach while all her attention is on Mushi.

"His ribs may be crushed. I'm afraid if we move him, we'll make it worse,"

Why is she even talking to that old codger? Adults have never been anything but a problem for them and this one is a fire bender. Is she crazy? Everyone knows they can't be trusted.

So why is he offering to help them? Why did Li help them?

"I have some experience with these kinds of injuries. I'm afraid under the circumstances I cannot stabilize him better, but I promise I will move him as carefully as I can."

He looks so harmless, and the tone he uses is so unfairly kind, but Jet knows better. It's all a lie, just like everything else about him. Fire benders running a tea shop in Ba Sing Se. What the hell can that possibly mean?

"No. The two of you listen to me right now. No way. No fucking way I'm going anywhere with them!"

"Shut up, Jet," Bee says, like there's going to be no arguing with her. "Do you want to die down here?"

"What? No, no of course I don't want to die."

"Well, neither do I."

"Do you have a better idea?"

He looks suddenly at Long Shot, the kid who speaks up when you least expect it or at least when it's really important. And Jet's ashamed because he's supposed to be their leader and he can't come up with anything that doesn't involve dying or capture. He can't seem to bring himself to say the words out loud, though. Smellerbee fills in the awkward space for him.

"Okay, then. We're taking their help, and we're all getting out of here and we'll worry about the rest later."

Jet can already see Long Shot agrees with her because he won't look him in the eye. And then his friends - the traitors - move aside to let Mushi closer to him. Jet nearly panics, needing to do something horrible to make him go away, to spit in his face or scream, but he hurts so much and his friends are still his friends and they're depending on him. They won't leave him and Mushi looks so damned sympathetic he wants to be sick.

"Forgive me, Jet. This will hurt. I will try not to jostle you more than is necessary." He turns back to the boy standing nervously at the door. "Li, make sure our path is clear."

"Yes, Uncle."

The old man picks him up with surprising strength and yet is as careful as he promised he'd be and it still hurts enough that he wants to scream so loud he'll bring Long Feng and all the Dai Li down on their heads.

But Jet doesn't. Somehow he chokes on the agony that is his fractured ribs and torn insides and just sobs, limp and helpless as a baby… in a fire benders arms.

Mushi as it turns out is no doddering old geezer. Mushi is as strong as a moose-ox and kind of smells like one, too, except for the tea, which is faint in his clothing, and strongest in his beard. He carries Jet the entire way, from the passages underneath Lake Laogai, all the way back to the lower ring. They only stop to rest a few times and mostly it's for Jet's sake, although they do pause a few moments when they emerge at the shore line.

Li hangs back a little, when they should be pressing forward. Mushi calls back to him, saying he did the right thing, whatever that means. Jet assumes Mushi must be talking about helping them escape. But Li only stares down at that awful mask of his, like it's something precious. Jet feels the soft rumble in Mushi's chest when he says, "Leave it behind."

Maybe, Jet thinks, the old guy's worried the Dai Li will recognize it. Li drops the thing into the lake and they leave Lake Laogai.

Jet can't figure out why the guy looks so torn up about a stupid mask. The street vendors sell them everywhere. If he needs to he can just buy another, but Jet's glad to see the creepy thing go.

By the time they get to his place, Mushi's neck is wet with Jet's tears. They should have let him die than have to bear this. But the chance to rest without looking over their shoulders is such a relief he's willing to let it go for a while.

They file into the apartment and Mushi gently sets him down. Smellerbee props him up so he can breathe a little easier and she's so careful that Jet can't stay mad at her.

He's still gritting his teeth through it and watching Li, who all but drags himself inside. From the look of him you'd think Li had been the one who carried Jet home. He's so exhausted he's practically swaying on his feet.

Mushi stretches his arms and rolls his head on his neck, the joints popping and cracking loudly, but looking no worse for it. "You did the right thing, Nephew, letting the Avatar's bison go free."

He and Smellerbee and Long Shot all share the same puzzled look.

"I don't feel right," Li says, barely loud enough for Jet to hear. He didn't look so good on the way, but then again, he was preoccupied with his own suffering.

Li looks like a good stiff wind is all it would take to knock him over. And then that's exactly what happens. Li collapses; taking a little earthen vase to the floor with him, the sound of the pieces breaking is louder than it should be.

"Zuko!" Mushi shouts, rushing over to Li's side.

"Who's Zuko?"

Jet shifts on the futon and stares up at the ceiling, desperately trying to ignore the sound of labored breathing from the body beside him, but the others have gone and there's nothing to distract him from it. Mushi and Long Shot are working at the tea shop while Smellerbee is at the market, running errands for crying out loud – a fire bender's errands!

Although to be fair, she's getting herbs for his medicine. If Mushi had asked her for any other reason she probably would have slit the guy's throat. Or she would have before this. He's not so sure anymore.

Jet sighs, something that feels much easier now than it did a few days ago and shifts again, deliberately keeping the other side of the room out of his field of vision, not trusting himself if he doesn't.

Fire benders are nothing but bad news and his whole life has been built around fighting them, forcing them out of his home. When he discovered fire benders had made it inside the earth kingdom's greatest city, he had to do something. And he tried to keep his promise to his friends. Maybe attacking Li didn't qualify as changing his ways, but he tried, he really did. It's not his fault that people are stupid, that no one had believed him.

Instead the police took him away, messed with his head and Long Feng nearly killed him and the only reason he's even alive right now is because those fire benders he tried so hard to nail saved him and his friends. How is he supposed to wrap his head around that?

It's worse than what the Dai Li did to him. And it just keeps on getting worse. Because Mushi and his nephew are not only fire benders, but members of the royal fucking family, hiding in Ba Sing Se as refugees to avoid imprisonment or death. Iroh had slipped and said his nephew's name and Jet wishes Iroh hadn't told them the truth. It was bad enough before.

Mushi is none other than General Iroh, the Dragon of the West and his nephew is Prince Zuko, son of Fire Lord Ozai. The notion that Jet is even willing to take the bastard at his word – the word of a fire bender – is nothing short of insane. Except that Jet does believe him.

Quaint little tea shop workers don't have the stamina to carry a critically wounded teenage boy for miles without needing a rest. They also don't go out at odd hours of the night and come back with cloaked elderly women who turn out to be refugee water tribe healers. The man is somehow able to command by asking politely. And he's charmed the freakin' pants off Smellerbee (thank the spirits, not literally), and Long Shot seems to feel some measure of respect for him. It's making Jet nuts.

The trouble is Iroh – he has to force himself not to think of him as Mushi now - has been nothing short of hospitable and frustratingly pleasant about it the whole damned time. It's as if he fucking enjoys having a bunch of kids around to fuss over. All the adults Jet has known can't wait to get rid of them.

Iroh lets them stay because the Dai Li recognize them now. He says it's better if they wait until things settle down a bit.

They sit down at meals together, like they did that night on the ferry. Jet refuses, partly because he can't move around much yet, partly because he refuses to break bread with a fire bender, even if it does seem like he's a decent enough guy.

Iroh doesn't care about his hate, even makes allowances for it. Iroh tends to him when the others aren't there, a necessity he tolerates with angry silence. Iroh also brings him teas that ease the pain and talks to him, even though he refuses to communicate. And Jet wants to hate him for what he is, but it's getting harder to every day he's forced to accept his generosity.

There's a soft, keening sound from beside him.

Jet's ribs are protesting the position he's in. He needs to turn his body over to alleviate the weight on that side, but then he'll be forced to see what is there. If he doesn't look, he can pretend he's alone, but after a while the pain makes him give in.

The Prince of the Fire Nation lay sleeping on the futon next to Jet's, his sleep plagued by fever dreams, like it has been for days. If he didn't suspect Li – no, Zuko – of being fire before, the heat he's putting off now would've put any doubt to rest. Jet can see the air shimmer with heat as it rises just over his body. He can't fathom how any living thing can tolerate that extreme. Normal people can't.

Iroh knows how much he loathes fire benders, but he left him here with his nephew anyway, trusting that Jet wouldn't do anything to jeopardize himself and his friends or trusting his infirmity. The first is a definite consideration. The second isn't quite as reliable.

He watches Zuko, still oblivious to the waking world, overheating the place and making little noises of distress. A fever like that would've boiled his brain in mere hours.

He's the son of Fire Lord Ozai and nothing human can come from that. Jet would be doing the world a favor if he killed his first born and took him out of the line of succession.

This is the Prince of the Fire Nation, as vulnerable as an infant, powerless against anything he chose to do. Jet could slit his throat with the kid's own stupid knife, but then Iroh would be…what? Furious? Devastated? At the very least it would get them tossed out on the street and he's not ready to be fodder again for the Dai Li.

And it wouldn't be fair to do that to his friends without talking to them first.

Jet could smother him in his sleep and Iroh would be none the wiser. He'd just think his nephew succumbed to the fever. It happens to people in the lower ring all the time. The filth, dense population and lack of medical doctors are perfect conditions for spreading contamination like wildfire. Zuko's especially vulnerable since he's not from around here. All Jet would have to do is take a wad of cloth and press it to Zuko's nose and mouth until he just stops. He's so weak. Zuko couldn't fight him.

Kind of takes the fun out of it, though.

The apartment door opens and shuts and suddenly his chance is gone. His hesitation cost him. He's never hesitated before. What's wrong with him?

He hears Iroh in the tiny kitchen. He can tell it's him from the heavier tread of his footsteps. He comes through the doorway a few minutes later carrying a tray with a steaming pot and two gaiwan cups.

"Aw, no tea for Zuko?" Jet says, full of malice.

Iroh glances over at the other boy. "I think it's best to let him rest a while," he answers, skirting right over Jet's attempt at being cruel. "But we can still enjoy a cup of tea together."

Jet just frowns and watches Iroh as he begins arranging the tea leaves in the cups and then pouring water to heat them. He doesn't want to drink the old man's tea, but the smell is telling him he does. Besides, Iroh will just sit here and talk longer if he doesn't drink the damn stuff.

Iroh does not help him to sit up when he struggles, not since the water tribe women did such a miraculous job with his injuries. They saved him from drowning in his own fluids.

He still doesn't understand that one – why water tribe would agree to help someone from the fire nation. Jet thought he had to have lied to them, but they called him Iroh, not Mushi.

Iroh's trying not to hurt his pride further or is letting him work a little regain his strength and Jet wants to kill him for that courtesy as well. He sits up and Iroh looks at him approvingly, setting the gaiwan in front of him.

"What is this stuff? It smells different." He's hoping it's not poison. Smellerbee really got on his case the last time he bitched about being poisoned, so he doesn't go there again.

"I am glad you noticed, Jet. It is a type of mint leaf from the rainforests. Very rare, and difficult to procure, but very soothing for the body. Your friend, Smellerbee helped acquire it from a friend of mine. I hope you like it."

"For a fire bender you seem to have a lot of friends."

"I am indeed fortunate to have such friends. I would do the same for any of them, and I have, on occasion."

Jet looks at the old man seated across from him as he strokes his beard and smiles and has to look away. He takes a sip of the tea.

And then takes another.

"It's good," he says before he can stop himself and Iroh's smile broadens. He keeps taking little sips, watching Iroh out of the corner of his eye.

Zuko moans and begins getting restless again.

Iroh puts down his tea and props the boy up, tapping his face gently at first, then more insistently. This gets him to open his eyes and take a ladleful of water before sliding back under the blanket, curled up into a tight ball. The hurt and worry on Iroh's face make Jet feel guilty about his earlier remark. But the shimmering heat over Zuko's sweaty head reminds him of why he'd done it.

This man saved him from Long Feng and the Dai Li and certain death. Zuko saved him and his friends, too, and he doesn't understand why. The Dai Li hadn't believed him, they weren't in any danger. He doesn't know what to make of these people if he's not trying to kill them. He's never had to slow down like this before. So much of his energy has been spent trying to survive, to keep his friends alive and now he has too much time alone to think and he doesn't like it.

"At the rate you are healing I suspect you will no longer need such teas."

"Why couldn't those healers help him?"

The 'him' is obvious and Iroh looks up. "Because it is not a normal sickness. Healers of the water tribe are exceptionally skilled, but they are powerless against such things. Zuko must come out of this on his own."

"I could have killed him, you know. You left me here with your nephew and I could have killed him."

"I would not have left my nephew if I thought he would come to harm. I know what you are capable of and your hatred of the fire nation is understandable, but you would not do such a thing out of deference for your friends."

Zuko shifts from under the blankets and a fresh wave of heat envelops the room. Iroh retrieves the pail of water and moistens a cloth, wiping the sweat from his face and neck and then along his chest and arms. He's so caring when he does this. Jet hates to see it every time, so, he tries not to look and instead sees more than he should.

Zuko's skin is marred with burn scars; over his shoulders and down the line of his back. There's nothing even remotely as traumatic as the disfigurement on his face, but it's the sheer number of them that's alarming.

"Are all fire benders marked like that, I mean, like him?"

The closest he's come to a fire bender is at the edge of his swords.

It takes a moment for Iroh to realize what Jet is referring to and when he does, he closes his eyes and sighs, laying Zuko back down and spreading the blanket back up to his chin. Zuko's breathing evens out and his face relaxes. Iroh goes back to his place on the floor and pours more hot water from the kettle.

"Zuko's teachers were ruthless mentors. I was not there for him then, something I deeply regret."

"And that's what you are now, his mentor?"

"Um, yes. My influence may not be enough to temper what has come before, but it cannot hurt to try."

"Why do this? Why help us, help me?"

"Because Zuko wanted to help you and I am terrible at leaving children in desperate situations."

"I'm not a child," he growls.

"No, you are not a child, but not yet a man and you have had to carry burdens that many men would stumble beneath."

"Yeah, well, you're a terrible nursemaid."

Iroh laughs out loud, and Jet can feel his mouth cracking a smile, until he stops himself, that is.

"Perhaps, yes, I am, but I do have some experience catering to injured, angry young men."

"You're talking about the scar on his face, aren't you?"

The old man's expression becomes sober.

"It was a very difficult time for my nephew and a turning point for the path of his life, one he is still struggling to accept."

"Yeah? So how did it happen?"

Iroh waves the steam from his cup up to his mouth, breathing deeply in and out. "Zuko did not deserve his mark, if that is what you mean, but I think it is a story you should ask him about yourself."

"No thanks. I don't really care." Jet's shooting for callous and insensitive, but not doing such a convincing job. You just can't not be curious about a thing like that.

"Under Lake Laogai I did not understand why Zuko went back for you, but I think I see now. While you and my nephew come from very different worlds, you are also surprisingly alike. Your youth and your loss make for fitting companions. There is much you can learn from each other."

The anger in him rises sharp and hot. "I am nothing like him and I'll be damned if a fire bender has anything useful to teach me."

"Perhaps not, perhaps that is yet to be seen."

"You know, the police didn't believe me about you two being benders, but that's okay, I don't need them. If I kill the precious prince of the Fire Nation I'll take away the Fire Lord's heir. What then?"

"I am old, Jet. I have seen too much of war, too much suffering and my taste for conquest is gone. Zuko has been disgraced, banished, labeled a traitor by the crown and his people. Ozai is still in power and the Princess Azula is as cruel and cunning as her father. Your actions would only set loose another dictator on the world, perpetuating the same destructive system."

"But the world is one fire bender shy and that's all the reason I need."

"You must think past brute vengeance and consider the consequences of your actions. The Fire Nation will not go away and the serpent has many heads."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Would you rather see someone as ruthless as Ozai or Azula leading the Fire Nation, or someone like Zuko; a boy who risked himself to help someone who hated him simply for being what he was. Zuko may someday usurp his father and help restore peace, but he can only do that if he lives. That is my wish for him. I know Zuko still has a lot of growing up to do, but I think he wants a second chance as much as any of us do. You two share that much at least."

Jet really wants to say something vicious to Iroh because he does not compare to Zuko and never will. The energy to lash out though, simply isn't there. He feels calm in spite of everything and when he realizes his gaiwan is empty he knows he's feeling the tea's effects. Iroh doesn't seem to feel it, but the guy is carrying around a lot more weight than Jet and not recovering from internal injuries.

Why doesn't he just throw him out on the street? Jet openly threatened his family, threatened this boy he seems to care so much about. Why does he keep instigating these conversations and bringing him tea and food and…

Suddenly his stomach growls, the noise so loud even Iroh notices. There's a delicious smell filling the apartment.

"What is that smell?"

Iroh sniffs and smiles proudly. "Oh, that would be the duck. We are having a special dinner this evening. Your friends are especially resourceful young people, by the way. They will be back soon and then we can take our meal together. Perhaps you are feeling well enough to join us this time."

Jet hasn't tasted duck in months and months and his mouth is already watering for it.

Iroh gathers the cups onto the serving tray with the kettle and Jet is thinking how the custom of serving tea is often intended as an apology, and how Iroh has served him tea morning and night. His eyes flick to Iroh's.

"Yeah, okay. Maybe."

"Splendid. I will set the table for one more. A man must eat to restore his strength," he says, disappearing into the kitchen.

The Dragon of the West just called him a man.

Jet looks at the boy beside him. He can study his scar as he sleeps and Zuko won't glare at him for it, except Jet kind of likes it when he glares at him.

Stupid thought. Stupid tea.

Jet realizes his thoughts have wandered and he's been staring out into space when something pricks at his awareness.

The room isn't nearly as stuffy as it had been a little while ago. It's actually approaching comfortable now.

Also, there's a dazed looking Fire Nation prince staring at him, the covers rucked down to his waist, tangled at his feet.

Jet wonders if the prince would be any improvement over every other ruler since Sozin, if this boy could champion a change towards peace. Would the world be better off if Jet let him live?

He just doesn't know. But Zuko gave him a chance to live. Maybe he can afford to wait a while and see.

"Jet?" Zuko asks. He looks thin and uncertain and is a little closer than Jet noticed earlier. Was he always this easy to look at?

He's never drinking that blend again.

"Hey, Iroh. Better set another place for dinner."

Jet can always kill him later if he steps out of line.

END