Two Heats, One Soul Chapter Three
Title: Two Hearts, One Soul
Rating: Hard R/nc-17 to be safe
Chapter: Something Like Drowning
Summary: AU Jet survives Lake Laogai and Zuko sides with Team Avatar during the Crossroads of Destiny. But old prejudice and unresolved self hatred and shame are only some of the few obstacles facing these two. Jetko
1.
There it was again, Jet thought, his eyes focused on the cooling bowl of porridge as a pair of golden eyes burned a hole at his back. He could feel it from here, in his own little corner of the deck where he sat with Katara, Longshot, and Smellerbee. Li was standing a little off to the side, leaning against the railing and conversing quietly with the Earthbender girl, Toph. But every now and then Li (Zuko, Jet reminded himself irritably, because dammit that name burned his throat every time) would glance over with such a strong sense of longing that Jet would feel his heart seize and his throat lock. It wasn't his fault that Zuko couldn't mingle.
Not that Jet wanted that Fire Nation scum anywhere near him. No, he was perfectly fine with the carefully maintained distance the other boy was keeping. What he hated were those looks, that honest hurt in his eyes and fuck Jet was not a sympathetic man. He had no mercy in him, nor any pity or reason or calm. All of that, all decency he could have had, the man he could have been, had been taken away at the fragile age of eight. And he would never get it back.
Instead, Jet decided a long time ago that his life lay ahead of him in one long, tangled battle. He could not see past anything beyond fighting for his freedom, fighting for his home, fighting against his pain. The day he stopped fighting was the day he surrendered himself to the suffocating sense of loss that crawled just beneath his confident exterior.
How ironic that it had been Zuko to first crack his shell. The very enemy, the son of his worst nightmare, had once wormed his way into the deepest part of Jet. And Jet felt sickened by that thought, almost physically ill that he had ever allowed that to happen.
So he ignored the looks, the need for companionship so obviously etched into the stoic boy. Oh, Zuko hid it well, Jet knew. The prince had fooled him once too, but Jet had always been perceptive. He always had a keen insight to people, even strangers. It was how he always knew just what to do to get people to do what he'd wanted. Hell, it had worked on his Freedom Fighters; it had worked on Katara, and on the Avatar himself.
It had worked on Li once (fuck, Zuko) on that ferry. Five minutes into knowing the boy and he was already agreeing to help Jet steal food.
So Jet was well aware of his own talent, and his heightened sense to people, which was why he was able to see past all of Zuko's sullen expressions, his stiff posture and standoffish nature.
Zuko was very much alone, and he was hurting himself, somewhere deep inside, but Jet didn't exactly know what he was supposed to do about it. Zuko was nothing to him. Li had been,though, once.
Once upon a time, Li had been everything.
But Li had never existed, and in his place stood the very man Jet despised with everything he ever was.
But that did not stop that twinge Jet got in the pit of his stomach whenever he looked over at him.
2.
Katara was the second person on the boat to approach him personally.
It was after another intense, brutal training session that left Zuko's muscles screaming and skin drenched in perspiration. He was panting hard, his vision going almost gray with the physical strain of it all. He finally forced himself to stop.
He had to, at this point. Every time he entered his own little training room it was like his swords took over. Every inch of him strained towards the familiar stances, and he pushed towards the brink of exhaustion when the moves became more complicated.
But Zuko couldn't stop, didn't want to ever stop.
Because once he stopped training, his every merciful detachment snapped, and he was forced ruthlessly back to reality. A reality where every being on this ship was against him, where he was for once, truly alone, without even the promise of seeing Uncle again soon to keep him going.
He missed Uncle horribly.
Every night when Zuko closed his eyes, his first thoughts went out to Iroh. It didn't matter how hard he trained during the day, how far he pushed himself. Every night he would be staggering into his bunk with limbs shaking from fatigue, and his brain still refused to erase the last haunting image of Uncle's capture.
Then the nightmares would take over, permeating his every being. He would awake in a cold sweat, heart pounding in his ears, gray memories of his mother floating away to be replaced by a hollowness that he couldn't shake.
Then he would push aside his blankets, retrieve his swords, and the training would begin all over again.
So his first week passed. He would only emerge from his own secluded area of the ship (the others chose cabins either above him or on the other side) to eat meals that were painstakingly awkward and horrible that he avoided it as long as possible, and made his time spent above deck as minimal as possible.
It was with great surprise then, that after one week his final hour finally deviated from the tormenting familiarity with the presence of one Water Tribe girl.
It took Zuko an embarrassingly long time to notice her. He had been too preoccupied, his thoughts immediately clouding his head once his swords were sheathed. It wasn't until he turned towards the door, hand flicking out to extinguish the candles, that he saw her leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and a frown on her face.
Zuko swallowed nervously.
He still wasn't sure what to think of the Avatar's friends. On one hand, he could sympathize with him, but he did not understand them. He was a temporary ally out of circumstance and convenience rather than trust, and honestly, Zuko wasn't sure if he was trustworthy. There was a part of him, in the back of his mind, that reminded him how easy it would be to kidnap the Avatar right now.
Zuko could ignore it all he wanted, but that instinct was still there.
The girl said nothing as Zuko struggled to clear his head. Finally, the silence became too uncomfortable, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. He left the candles on, the extra light being a minor but available consolation. "Can I help you?" He finally asked quietly, trying his best to keep his tone even and light.
At first she still said nothing, then she moved and Zuko noticed then that she was holding out his shirt to him. He accepted the offering self-consciously, pulling it on and tugging it in place, trying to get it to fit. But even before Ba Sing Se his clothes had been a little loose. And then he had been forced to live on food rations in the city and now with him exercising hours on end with a miniscule appetite, even Zuko couldn't hide the fact that his skin stretched too tightly over his ribcage, and his pants hung low and loose on his narrowing waist.
"Thanks," He croaked when he was done fidgeting.
She cast a critical glance at him. "You need to eat more."
Zuko rubbed the back of his neck, not quite sure how to take that. Her voice seemed concerned, but it was too hard to be sure. "I guess."
"I'm serious," She said. Then she took a deep breath and let out a long sigh that seemed to completely deflate her defensive attitude. When her blue eyes locked on his again, Zuko saw real, actual…something. Maybe pity or worry, but whatever it was, it wasn't exactly hate.
"I can take care of myself," He answered.
She shook her head. "Look," She said. "I know you've had a rough time. You were banished from your home. You betrayed your country helping us. Your Uncle was captured, and you…" She hesitated and her fingers went to her necklace, "Lost your mother," This last part was whispered quietly.
Zuko closed his eyes. "I can handle it."
He felt her step closer, and he couldn't help but tense when he felt a hand on his arm. It felt weird and alien.
It occurred to him them that besides Jet and his Uncle, he hadn't been touched in years. And here this Water Tribe girl was, merely brushing a hand on him and he couldn't help but twitch slightly closer to her.
"Zuko," She said, still whispering. "I know it's hard on you. And I know you've hurt us in the past but you-" She was struggling for words, "You helped us back in Ba Sing Se. And you've been sleeping several feet away from Aang and the rest of us for days now and haven't harmed any of us." She stepped even closer, crowding him. It was almost too much, her caring. "I'm not sure if I can completely trust you." Here, Zuko opened his eyes to stare at her inquisitive blue. "But…I want to try."
Zuko released a deep breath he was holding, before breaking the contact and stepping away. "You don't have to do that."
"You don't have to do this alone, either."
"I know what I'm doing."
"Zuko," She said his name again, this time sternly, almost maternally and it made Zuko snap his head up in surprise to look at her. "Don't be stupid. You need us."
"I-"
"Come on," She was reaching for him again. "We are having dinner on the upper deck. You are joining us."
"Look, I really don't-"
"And spirits, my name is Katara, you can use it you know."
"I just-" Zuko was failing to find exactly how to explain all this to her, to show her just how much he did not belong. "That can't be-"
"Oh, be quiet and join us." She was tugging his hand now, pulling him out of the room and down the hall, and he was helpless to stop her. It wasn't until they reached the stairs that the realization hit him and he forcibly pulled away.
She seemed startled, and whirled around on him, some kind of passionate emotion (actual anger maybe, but Zuko wasn't sure why she would be angry with him at this very moment) dancing in her eyes as she opened her mouth to speak-
"Jet will be up there."
That shut her up for a good second before she narrowed her eyes questioningly at him. "Yes, so what does that mean?"
"So, I can't go up there."
"Spirits, what does Jet have to do with anything?"
Zuko really did not ever want to have to explain this, but it looked like he had no choice. "He hates me."
"Well, he has an…aversion to the Fire Nation but I'm sure once he gets to know you-" This made Zuko almost let out a sharp laugh and she stopped again, still not comprehending and Zuko used that opportunity to take another step back.
"Just…believe me, he definitely hates me," Zuko said, and turned to leave.
"You can't just ignore him forever, it's a small ship!" Katara insisted. "And why does his opinion even matter anyway? The rest of us want you up there."
He doubted those words were true but he chose not to comment on them. Instead he shrugged, closing his hands into fists to hide their shaking."Because," Zuko said, and his voice was surprisingly calm and certain despite the storm raging in his gut. He definitely couldn't eat now. "His opinion is what matters most." And then he left, Katara's confusion and hurt filling the space between them.
3.
Jet knew what he had seen.
At first he had been shocked, and a little put off even, that Li had refused his invitation to join the Freedom Fighters. But he had shrugged it off, replied with calm "Have it your way, then." He didn't believe that the rejection was permanent. Li would be a Freedom Fighter; it would just take some convincing.
But as Li had walked away, Jet's eyes had lingered and shifted to the old man. An old man holding a mug of hot tea, which, not moments ago, had been cold.
The evidence….so obvious, right there, in that train station.
There were Fire Nation among them, and they had just made their first mistake.
But Jet could be calculating. He could be cautious.
He had wanted so bad to attack right there. He wanted to scream and rage and use his fists to bash the old man's face in, and then he wanted to go one on one with Li, just hook swords on fire, until there was nothing left to the boy and the world would have two less pieces of scum in it.
Instead he held back, and began to plan.
Jet had, after all come to Ba Sing Se to form a new life. And while his anger beat at his chest and burned as he ignored it, Jet resolved to gather evidence. And then he would report the two to the authorities.
That was how it should be done. The Freedom Fighters weren't out in the forests anymore, where the only rules that existed were the ones that Jet made. Now they were in a city, a city of walls and rules that were foreign and yet heavily enforced.
He wanted a new start, to erase the monster he had almost become. He had promised his two friends that, and as their leader his promises carried a heavy weight. So he would ignore his old instincts and let someone else handle it.
All he needed, all he had to do, was bide his time and wait until he had proof.
The two were easy enough to follow. They were confined as he was to the lower ring, and the tea shop they were now employed at gave Jet yet another place that he could follow, another tie that held the two to the city. Their routine was easy and predictable, and it wasn't long before Jet had simply broken into their apartment one day while they were out work.
It had taken him a long time to come up with that plan. He had hoped that they would simply firebend out of the blue one day and he would just have to witness it and have his proof. But they turned out more discreet than that, and as the days passed it became clear he would have to force the evidence out of them.
So how to get firebenders to firebend when they went about acting like normal refugees….
He would simply have to put them in a situation where they had no choice. It would be easy enough. There were so many infinite ways, so many fantasies he entertained on how to force a huge reveal. But in the end he decided subtle was best and just as effective, so he stole their spark rocks.
He waited on the roof all day and in to the night, fiddling with his contraband and chewing on his wheat stalk. Finally they returned home, and Jet's stomach twisted in knots of apprehension and anxiety. Come on, he thought. Come on, you're going to have to firebend old man, come on…
And then the man hadn't.
Jet threw the rocks in a fountain after that, angrily stalking his way through the streets at night to return to his own cramped apartment that he shared with Longshot and Smellerbee. He collapsed on the couch and lay there in the dark for hours, disappointment coursing through him. And damn, they were sneakier than he had anticipated.
There had to be a way, though. So far all Jet had done was observing them, but there had to be a different way? All he needed was a different approach.
He would have to get to know them.
That thought forced him to sit up; he almost choked on it, surprised that his own brain had supplied it.
But then he found his mouth curling into a smile, leering in the darkness.
Gotcha.
4.
Zuko was miserable in the city.
He hated it, working like a commoner. His back ached, his feet hurt, and his brain pounded everyday with a constant headache.
He was sick of this, sick of living like a low life, like he was just another person, unidentifiable and lost to the rest of the world. This city was a prison, and he was just another nameless face shoved aside out of the way somewhere to survive the war somehow.
He was not used to this. He wasn't sure if he could ever get used to this. Even on the ship, floating at sea aimlessly for years, he had been a Prince.
Now he had nothing.
No purpose, no hope, and no throne.
He spilled tea on a regular basis, put up with Pao and his constant, irritating demands, and did the work of a servant for slave wages.
At night he slept horribly, rolling around listlessly on the bed. And he still always rose at sunrise, unable to shake the feeling of the sun no matter how tired he was.
His Uncle was always upbeat, though. And at the moment it was the only thing keeping him sane.
Zuko was also suspicious that Uncle was trying to meddle in with his social life. Iroh may not think his nephew had noticed, but Zuko had definitely realized that most of the tables he served were those of men his age (most of them weird, tea drinking, pai sho playing pansies), or young ladies (who giggled at him and made him flush, his face heating and his movements becoming stiff and self conscious which always resulted in more tea spilling accidents).
But Zuko refused to build a life here. Friends meant roots, and roots meant that this odd, surreal existence would become permanent. Zuko wasn't sure if he was ready for that.
He was on his last order of the day, who was some stuffy official who had sent Zuko back twice to the kitchen to fix his order, and was washing down tables when he heard the door opened.
"We are closed," He said, his back still turned as he reached down to pick up the broom he had leaned against the counter.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he jerked back, rattling the plates on the counter and nearly tripping over his own feet.
And then he stood in stark disbelief at the man before him.
Jet grinned, his wheat stalk dangling precariously close to the edge of his mouth. "Hey handsome," He said as he leaned arrogantly against the counter, his voice oozing something Zuko couldn't quite figure out "Come here often?"
Rating: Hard R/nc-17 to be safe
Chapter: Something Like Drowning
Summary: AU Jet survives Lake Laogai and Zuko sides with Team Avatar during the Crossroads of Destiny. But old prejudice and unresolved self hatred and shame are only some of the few obstacles facing these two. Jetko
1.
There it was again, Jet thought, his eyes focused on the cooling bowl of porridge as a pair of golden eyes burned a hole at his back. He could feel it from here, in his own little corner of the deck where he sat with Katara, Longshot, and Smellerbee. Li was standing a little off to the side, leaning against the railing and conversing quietly with the Earthbender girl, Toph. But every now and then Li (Zuko, Jet reminded himself irritably, because dammit that name burned his throat every time) would glance over with such a strong sense of longing that Jet would feel his heart seize and his throat lock. It wasn't his fault that Zuko couldn't mingle.
Not that Jet wanted that Fire Nation scum anywhere near him. No, he was perfectly fine with the carefully maintained distance the other boy was keeping. What he hated were those looks, that honest hurt in his eyes and fuck Jet was not a sympathetic man. He had no mercy in him, nor any pity or reason or calm. All of that, all decency he could have had, the man he could have been, had been taken away at the fragile age of eight. And he would never get it back.
Instead, Jet decided a long time ago that his life lay ahead of him in one long, tangled battle. He could not see past anything beyond fighting for his freedom, fighting for his home, fighting against his pain. The day he stopped fighting was the day he surrendered himself to the suffocating sense of loss that crawled just beneath his confident exterior.
How ironic that it had been Zuko to first crack his shell. The very enemy, the son of his worst nightmare, had once wormed his way into the deepest part of Jet. And Jet felt sickened by that thought, almost physically ill that he had ever allowed that to happen.
So he ignored the looks, the need for companionship so obviously etched into the stoic boy. Oh, Zuko hid it well, Jet knew. The prince had fooled him once too, but Jet had always been perceptive. He always had a keen insight to people, even strangers. It was how he always knew just what to do to get people to do what he'd wanted. Hell, it had worked on his Freedom Fighters; it had worked on Katara, and on the Avatar himself.
It had worked on Li once (fuck, Zuko) on that ferry. Five minutes into knowing the boy and he was already agreeing to help Jet steal food.
So Jet was well aware of his own talent, and his heightened sense to people, which was why he was able to see past all of Zuko's sullen expressions, his stiff posture and standoffish nature.
Zuko was very much alone, and he was hurting himself, somewhere deep inside, but Jet didn't exactly know what he was supposed to do about it. Zuko was nothing to him. Li had been,though, once.
Once upon a time, Li had been everything.
But Li had never existed, and in his place stood the very man Jet despised with everything he ever was.
But that did not stop that twinge Jet got in the pit of his stomach whenever he looked over at him.
2.
Katara was the second person on the boat to approach him personally.
It was after another intense, brutal training session that left Zuko's muscles screaming and skin drenched in perspiration. He was panting hard, his vision going almost gray with the physical strain of it all. He finally forced himself to stop.
He had to, at this point. Every time he entered his own little training room it was like his swords took over. Every inch of him strained towards the familiar stances, and he pushed towards the brink of exhaustion when the moves became more complicated.
But Zuko couldn't stop, didn't want to ever stop.
Because once he stopped training, his every merciful detachment snapped, and he was forced ruthlessly back to reality. A reality where every being on this ship was against him, where he was for once, truly alone, without even the promise of seeing Uncle again soon to keep him going.
He missed Uncle horribly.
Every night when Zuko closed his eyes, his first thoughts went out to Iroh. It didn't matter how hard he trained during the day, how far he pushed himself. Every night he would be staggering into his bunk with limbs shaking from fatigue, and his brain still refused to erase the last haunting image of Uncle's capture.
Then the nightmares would take over, permeating his every being. He would awake in a cold sweat, heart pounding in his ears, gray memories of his mother floating away to be replaced by a hollowness that he couldn't shake.
Then he would push aside his blankets, retrieve his swords, and the training would begin all over again.
So his first week passed. He would only emerge from his own secluded area of the ship (the others chose cabins either above him or on the other side) to eat meals that were painstakingly awkward and horrible that he avoided it as long as possible, and made his time spent above deck as minimal as possible.
It was with great surprise then, that after one week his final hour finally deviated from the tormenting familiarity with the presence of one Water Tribe girl.
It took Zuko an embarrassingly long time to notice her. He had been too preoccupied, his thoughts immediately clouding his head once his swords were sheathed. It wasn't until he turned towards the door, hand flicking out to extinguish the candles, that he saw her leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and a frown on her face.
Zuko swallowed nervously.
He still wasn't sure what to think of the Avatar's friends. On one hand, he could sympathize with him, but he did not understand them. He was a temporary ally out of circumstance and convenience rather than trust, and honestly, Zuko wasn't sure if he was trustworthy. There was a part of him, in the back of his mind, that reminded him how easy it would be to kidnap the Avatar right now.
Zuko could ignore it all he wanted, but that instinct was still there.
The girl said nothing as Zuko struggled to clear his head. Finally, the silence became too uncomfortable, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. He left the candles on, the extra light being a minor but available consolation. "Can I help you?" He finally asked quietly, trying his best to keep his tone even and light.
At first she still said nothing, then she moved and Zuko noticed then that she was holding out his shirt to him. He accepted the offering self-consciously, pulling it on and tugging it in place, trying to get it to fit. But even before Ba Sing Se his clothes had been a little loose. And then he had been forced to live on food rations in the city and now with him exercising hours on end with a miniscule appetite, even Zuko couldn't hide the fact that his skin stretched too tightly over his ribcage, and his pants hung low and loose on his narrowing waist.
"Thanks," He croaked when he was done fidgeting.
She cast a critical glance at him. "You need to eat more."
Zuko rubbed the back of his neck, not quite sure how to take that. Her voice seemed concerned, but it was too hard to be sure. "I guess."
"I'm serious," She said. Then she took a deep breath and let out a long sigh that seemed to completely deflate her defensive attitude. When her blue eyes locked on his again, Zuko saw real, actual…something. Maybe pity or worry, but whatever it was, it wasn't exactly hate.
"I can take care of myself," He answered.
She shook her head. "Look," She said. "I know you've had a rough time. You were banished from your home. You betrayed your country helping us. Your Uncle was captured, and you…" She hesitated and her fingers went to her necklace, "Lost your mother," This last part was whispered quietly.
Zuko closed his eyes. "I can handle it."
He felt her step closer, and he couldn't help but tense when he felt a hand on his arm. It felt weird and alien.
It occurred to him them that besides Jet and his Uncle, he hadn't been touched in years. And here this Water Tribe girl was, merely brushing a hand on him and he couldn't help but twitch slightly closer to her.
"Zuko," She said, still whispering. "I know it's hard on you. And I know you've hurt us in the past but you-" She was struggling for words, "You helped us back in Ba Sing Se. And you've been sleeping several feet away from Aang and the rest of us for days now and haven't harmed any of us." She stepped even closer, crowding him. It was almost too much, her caring. "I'm not sure if I can completely trust you." Here, Zuko opened his eyes to stare at her inquisitive blue. "But…I want to try."
Zuko released a deep breath he was holding, before breaking the contact and stepping away. "You don't have to do that."
"You don't have to do this alone, either."
"I know what I'm doing."
"Zuko," She said his name again, this time sternly, almost maternally and it made Zuko snap his head up in surprise to look at her. "Don't be stupid. You need us."
"I-"
"Come on," She was reaching for him again. "We are having dinner on the upper deck. You are joining us."
"Look, I really don't-"
"And spirits, my name is Katara, you can use it you know."
"I just-" Zuko was failing to find exactly how to explain all this to her, to show her just how much he did not belong. "That can't be-"
"Oh, be quiet and join us." She was tugging his hand now, pulling him out of the room and down the hall, and he was helpless to stop her. It wasn't until they reached the stairs that the realization hit him and he forcibly pulled away.
She seemed startled, and whirled around on him, some kind of passionate emotion (actual anger maybe, but Zuko wasn't sure why she would be angry with him at this very moment) dancing in her eyes as she opened her mouth to speak-
"Jet will be up there."
That shut her up for a good second before she narrowed her eyes questioningly at him. "Yes, so what does that mean?"
"So, I can't go up there."
"Spirits, what does Jet have to do with anything?"
Zuko really did not ever want to have to explain this, but it looked like he had no choice. "He hates me."
"Well, he has an…aversion to the Fire Nation but I'm sure once he gets to know you-" This made Zuko almost let out a sharp laugh and she stopped again, still not comprehending and Zuko used that opportunity to take another step back.
"Just…believe me, he definitely hates me," Zuko said, and turned to leave.
"You can't just ignore him forever, it's a small ship!" Katara insisted. "And why does his opinion even matter anyway? The rest of us want you up there."
He doubted those words were true but he chose not to comment on them. Instead he shrugged, closing his hands into fists to hide their shaking."Because," Zuko said, and his voice was surprisingly calm and certain despite the storm raging in his gut. He definitely couldn't eat now. "His opinion is what matters most." And then he left, Katara's confusion and hurt filling the space between them.
3.
Jet knew what he had seen.
At first he had been shocked, and a little put off even, that Li had refused his invitation to join the Freedom Fighters. But he had shrugged it off, replied with calm "Have it your way, then." He didn't believe that the rejection was permanent. Li would be a Freedom Fighter; it would just take some convincing.
But as Li had walked away, Jet's eyes had lingered and shifted to the old man. An old man holding a mug of hot tea, which, not moments ago, had been cold.
The evidence….so obvious, right there, in that train station.
There were Fire Nation among them, and they had just made their first mistake.
But Jet could be calculating. He could be cautious.
He had wanted so bad to attack right there. He wanted to scream and rage and use his fists to bash the old man's face in, and then he wanted to go one on one with Li, just hook swords on fire, until there was nothing left to the boy and the world would have two less pieces of scum in it.
Instead he held back, and began to plan.
Jet had, after all come to Ba Sing Se to form a new life. And while his anger beat at his chest and burned as he ignored it, Jet resolved to gather evidence. And then he would report the two to the authorities.
That was how it should be done. The Freedom Fighters weren't out in the forests anymore, where the only rules that existed were the ones that Jet made. Now they were in a city, a city of walls and rules that were foreign and yet heavily enforced.
He wanted a new start, to erase the monster he had almost become. He had promised his two friends that, and as their leader his promises carried a heavy weight. So he would ignore his old instincts and let someone else handle it.
All he needed, all he had to do, was bide his time and wait until he had proof.
The two were easy enough to follow. They were confined as he was to the lower ring, and the tea shop they were now employed at gave Jet yet another place that he could follow, another tie that held the two to the city. Their routine was easy and predictable, and it wasn't long before Jet had simply broken into their apartment one day while they were out work.
It had taken him a long time to come up with that plan. He had hoped that they would simply firebend out of the blue one day and he would just have to witness it and have his proof. But they turned out more discreet than that, and as the days passed it became clear he would have to force the evidence out of them.
So how to get firebenders to firebend when they went about acting like normal refugees….
He would simply have to put them in a situation where they had no choice. It would be easy enough. There were so many infinite ways, so many fantasies he entertained on how to force a huge reveal. But in the end he decided subtle was best and just as effective, so he stole their spark rocks.
He waited on the roof all day and in to the night, fiddling with his contraband and chewing on his wheat stalk. Finally they returned home, and Jet's stomach twisted in knots of apprehension and anxiety. Come on, he thought. Come on, you're going to have to firebend old man, come on…
And then the man hadn't.
Jet threw the rocks in a fountain after that, angrily stalking his way through the streets at night to return to his own cramped apartment that he shared with Longshot and Smellerbee. He collapsed on the couch and lay there in the dark for hours, disappointment coursing through him. And damn, they were sneakier than he had anticipated.
There had to be a way, though. So far all Jet had done was observing them, but there had to be a different way? All he needed was a different approach.
He would have to get to know them.
That thought forced him to sit up; he almost choked on it, surprised that his own brain had supplied it.
But then he found his mouth curling into a smile, leering in the darkness.
Gotcha.
4.
Zuko was miserable in the city.
He hated it, working like a commoner. His back ached, his feet hurt, and his brain pounded everyday with a constant headache.
He was sick of this, sick of living like a low life, like he was just another person, unidentifiable and lost to the rest of the world. This city was a prison, and he was just another nameless face shoved aside out of the way somewhere to survive the war somehow.
He was not used to this. He wasn't sure if he could ever get used to this. Even on the ship, floating at sea aimlessly for years, he had been a Prince.
Now he had nothing.
No purpose, no hope, and no throne.
He spilled tea on a regular basis, put up with Pao and his constant, irritating demands, and did the work of a servant for slave wages.
At night he slept horribly, rolling around listlessly on the bed. And he still always rose at sunrise, unable to shake the feeling of the sun no matter how tired he was.
His Uncle was always upbeat, though. And at the moment it was the only thing keeping him sane.
Zuko was also suspicious that Uncle was trying to meddle in with his social life. Iroh may not think his nephew had noticed, but Zuko had definitely realized that most of the tables he served were those of men his age (most of them weird, tea drinking, pai sho playing pansies), or young ladies (who giggled at him and made him flush, his face heating and his movements becoming stiff and self conscious which always resulted in more tea spilling accidents).
But Zuko refused to build a life here. Friends meant roots, and roots meant that this odd, surreal existence would become permanent. Zuko wasn't sure if he was ready for that.
He was on his last order of the day, who was some stuffy official who had sent Zuko back twice to the kitchen to fix his order, and was washing down tables when he heard the door opened.
"We are closed," He said, his back still turned as he reached down to pick up the broom he had leaned against the counter.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he jerked back, rattling the plates on the counter and nearly tripping over his own feet.
And then he stood in stark disbelief at the man before him.
Jet grinned, his wheat stalk dangling precariously close to the edge of his mouth. "Hey handsome," He said as he leaned arrogantly against the counter, his voice oozing something Zuko couldn't quite figure out "Come here often?"