FicWad

Author's Notes: This started as a idea I was kicking around with my sister one evening while we were rewatching City of Walls and Secrets - essentially, how pointless was Jet's death, really? Conversations being what they are, it turned into a long involved night of discussing just what would have gone differently had Jet never seen Iroh firebend his tea. I never really meant for it to turn into a fic. Two months, a notebook full of rambling, and 20,000 words later, I can't stop writing. This first chapter was originally twice as long as it is now, but I decided to split it into two parts for everyone's own good. It only gets gayer from here.

Thanks to Gaisce for betaing, and my sister for putting up with my endless running commentary.

Standard disclaimers apply. Avatar: The Last Airbender is the property of a lot of people with a lot more money than me. I'm just borrowing it for a while.



Chapter One - Quotidian


Zuko had expected many, many things to go horribly wrong on his first day of work. Finding the boy from the ferry lounging at a side table had not been one of them.

Once more, Zuko was reminded of the importance of never underestimating the tenacity of others. He remembered with some reluctance that Jet had seemed very interested in getting Zuko to join his group of... whatever it was they actually did (Zuko had been a little unclear on the specifics, but he was quite certain that Firebenders weren't welcome). But Zuko had been sure that he'd made himself clear on the matter.

Which meant that this was either an incredibly annoying coincidence, or Jet just didn't know when to give up. Zuko sincerely hoped it was the former - it would mean this could be dealt with quickly, efficiently, and with a minimum of annoyance.

... Right. And hippo-cows could fly.

"What are you doing here?" Zuko demanded.

"This is a tea shop, Lee. What do you think I'm doing?"

There was no particularly intelligent response that Zuko could give to that, and so he settled for a noncommittal grumble.

Jet leaned forward on his elbows and grinned in a way that made Zuko imagine setting things on fire. His voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm pretty sure this is the part where you ask if you can take my order."

"Don't tell me how to do my job!" Zuko snapped, and after a pause, added, "What do you want?"

Jet looked thoughtful for a moment, the stalk of wheat in his mouth bobbing once, twice, three times - well, that was distracting - and then smiled in a manner that Zuko supposed was meant to be placating. It wasn't. "I haven't decided yet. Come back in a couple minutes, okay?"

Resisting his swelling urge to hit things, Zuko turned on his heel and stalked off wordlessly. This was the last thing he needed to deal with today. Zuko busied himself with a few more customers, taking orders and clearing tables and stealing covert glances in Jet's direction every time he could, hoping against logic that Jet would get bored and leave.

He didn't.

Finally, and with great displeasure, Zuko resigned himself to the fact that the fastest way to get rid of this particular problem would be to face it head-on. With an irritable sigh, he headed back to Jet's table. "So," he said tersely, "have you decided yet?"

"Actually," Jet replied, "I've got a confession to make." Zuko braced himself for the worst. "I didn't come here for tea. I thought maybe we could have a little chat."

That was exactly what he'd been expecting. "I don't have time for this."

"Aww, Lee, don't be like that. I was hoping you'd be happy to see me."

"Happy?" Zuko caught himself nearly yelling. Throwing a cautious glance over his shoulder, he lowered his voice, then turned back and shot a glare at Jet. "You're wasting my time."

"Listen," said Jet, the teasing tone dropping from his voice, "I know you didn't think much of my offer before, but just hear me out. I think together, you and I could really -"

"I told you," Zuko interjected, "I'm not interested. Now get out before I throw you out." Zuko hoped it wouldn't come to that. He couldn't do that on his first day - getting fired would be one thing, but dragging Uncle into it...

But to his relief, Jet didn't protest. "All right, all right." Jet stood, waving good-bye to Zuko and turning for the door with a flourish. "See you around, Lee. Good luck with the rest of the day."

Zuko clenched his fists and headed back to the kitchen without a word.


*

Jet laid with his hands behind his head, staring up at the cracked ceiling of the small, one-room apartment that he had rented with Longshot and Smellerbee. It was tiny and cramped, in a complex that couldn't quite be described as "crumbling," but no flattering words suited it either. At least it was affordable - here, they had money enough to last them for another few weeks. His companions had been nervous when he'd robbed a Fire Nation supply convoy under cover of darkness, but he didn't hear either of them complaining now. They had to survive somehow, and if they couldn't see what had to be done - well, that was why he was the leader.

The two of them had gone out looking for work. Jet wondered, now, if he should have gone along, but his defeat at the tea shop had left him feeling - as Smellerbee had put it - "moody." He'd scoffed at that, but hadn't bothered to deny it. Now that he thought about it, they probably left to give him his space. Whatever. He could wait. He had nothing but time.

For reasons he couldn't quite understand, this last talk with Lee had shaken him. It was unsettling. Ever since the other boy had turned down his offer, Jet just hadn't felt right. He was used to getting what he wanted. He had a gift for inspiring people. He had transformed the lost, angry children left in the wake of the Fire Nation's conquest into soldiers. When Jet spoke, people listened. People acted. Because, ultimately, he was able to convince people that they needed him.

And Lee had turned him down.

It didn't add up. Lee was a refugee - no. He was more than that. Jet had seen a lot of kids whose lives had been ruined by the Fire Nation, and none of them had been anything like Lee.

He remembered with perfect clarity the night on the ferry. Lee's elegant use of his broadswords. The way he moved, silent, graceful. It was precision work. Which meant that whatever his uncle was telling him, this new job of Lee's wasn't a second chance. It was a waste. Seeing him working in that shop made Jet's blood boil. There was something fundamentally wrong with a world where someone like that was reduced to serving tea.

What he'd said to Smellerbee was true: Lee would make an excellent Freedom Fighter. When someone had a sense of purpose, it showed in everything they did. They had righted a wrong that night, together - and Lee had seemed so alive. Those gold eyes of his had practically lit up. He was made for that. How could he just throw all that away for some squeaky-clean life in the city?

Lee didn't belong in that tea shop, he belonged with them.

He'd thought, maybe, if he had a second chance to talk to him - but no. If anything, it had gone even worse than before. He was supposed to be convincing, damn it, and all he could seem to do was get on Lee's nerves! What was bothering him supposed to accomplish? It certainly wasn't winning him any points.

He shut his eyes, and for the first time in ages, he was reminded of a girl in his old village. He had found that the fastest way to get her attention was to pull on her pigtails. She would shove him into the mud afterwards, inevitably, but it seemed worth it at the time. He remembered that she was pretty - pale skin, green eyes - but the image in his mind was fractured, disjointed, and he couldn't picture her face. She would have been fifteen, now. She was still inside her house when it burned to the ground.

A sudden impulse forced Jet to stand, pushing the uninvited thought back. Frustratingly, he found that the tiny floor didn't even give him room to pace.

Was he slipping? Had that Water Tribe girl really taken him that far down? No - he couldn't start thinking like this. The moment a leader doubted himself, others would start to doubt him - and then where would he be? Half of being in control was presenting the illusion that he was in control. He wasn't slipping; Lee was just going to be a challenge.

Jet hadn't gotten where he was by taking no for an answer.


*

When Jet was there again the second day, Zuko began to get suspicious, and being suspicious made Zuko even more irritable than usual.

"Hey," said Jet.

"Get your feet off the table," replied Zuko.

Jet complied, folding his arms behind his head instead. He looked so... effortlessly nonchalant. Zuko wondered how much time he had spent perfecting that. "Nice apron," he observed casually.

Zuko chose not to dignify that with a response; however, his hands went automatically to tug at the strings that fastened the apron around his neck, which seemed suddenly to be tighter than they strictly needed to be. "What do you want?"

"I already told you," Jet said. "I just want to talk."

Zuko could sense an impending headache lurking menacingly around his temples. "And I already told you, I'm not interested."

"You haven't even given me a chance."

"I don't need to."

Jet leaned in closer to Zuko, his gaze sharpening. "Come on, Lee. Look around. You're wearing an apron, taking orders and serving tea to old men and giggling girls who all think you're beneath them. Don't tell me this is really what you want to be doing."

Jet's words had struck a nerve, and Zuko hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he opened his mouth to speak. When he did, his voice was quiet and sharp as a blade. "Get out."

Jet shot him a considering look. Zuko could tell he was testing the waters, deciding whether to press the issue or let it go. If he did push it... Zuko felt his nails bite into his palms from the force of his clenched fists. He couldn't make a scene here. He couldn't.

"Fine," said Jet, after seconds that seemed to stretch on forever. "Whatever makes you happy."

He should have been glad when Jet did stand and turn to leave without a word. Should have been... but he wasn't. The bitterness and indignation were too dominant at the forefront of his emotions to allow for any relief. Zuko watched Jet until the door shut behind him. Sighing, he leaned forward with his palms on the table and shut his eyes, waiting for the odd twisting sensation in his stomach to fade. Zuko hated the knowing emphasis Jet had put on that last word, hated how well Jet could read him, hated whatever agenda Jet had here.

"Lee," came Uncle's voice from behind him, "we'll need another pot of jasmine for table six."

More than anything, he hated that Jet was right.


*

"Jet," said Smellerbee, over her chipped bowl full of rice, "I thought you were done with this."

"I think he's lonely," Jet replied. He sat perched on the sill of their open window, back leaning against the frame.

"So what?"

It was a pragmatic response. Exactly what he'd expected. "So I'm being friendly," Jet said. It wasn't a lie, though it hardly answered the question.

"It doesn't sound like he's interested in your friendship," she replied, and he could tell she was trying to keep her voice non-confrontational. Which was good, because he wasn't in the mood to argue the point.

"The way he carries himself," said Jet, thinking out loud as he looked out the window into the courtyard, "he was obviously brought up well. He's not used to living like a refugee. I figure he's probably the son of some noble family who never really learned to play well with others. And judging by that scar and the fact that him and his uncle were so eager to get to this city, that family had a bad run-in with the Fire Nation."

"That doesn't explain where he learned to sneak around like that. Or why he's not off fighting the war."

"Everyone has their reasons."

"And you don't know his," Smellerbee said insistently.

"I've got all the time in the world to find out."

Jet knew that she was right - his own assumptions about the boy aside, Lee was an absolute enigma. Jet prided himself on his ability to read people, and while he was certain he understood Lee at a surface level - a privileged but driven teen who had lost everything to the Fire Nation - what was going on behind those sharp gold eyes was a mystery. One moment he could feel a connection between them so strong it was almost tangible, and the next Lee was shrugging him off like he was nothing.

It was maddening.

But today... today he'd touched on something. Lee hadn't wanted to let it show, but Jet could tell he'd gotten through to him. It was exactly as he'd planned. The seeds of discontent had been sown in Lee long before Jet got to him - now all he needed to do was offer a solution.

Be the solution.

Make Lee want him.

Smellerbee sighed, clearly resigned. "Just don't draw too much attention to yourself."

Like anyone was going to recognize him here, he thought, with a twinge of bitterness he knew was foolish. The Earth Kingdom was still looking for him after that dam stunt in Gaipan a few months back, but the Freedom Fighters had all but broken up. They used to be an army. Now they were nothing but three teenagers doing their best to blend into the faceless masses in this sprawling mess of a city. Just another meaningless cog in a machine.

"I know," Jet replied. "Low profile. That's me."

He wondered if there was a word for a revolutionary who'd lost his revolution.


*

On the third day, the fraying thread of Zuko's patience finally snapped.

"If you don't order something," he said, crossing his arms and attempting to look as intimidating as possible, "I'm throwing you out."

A look of mocking concern came over Jet's face. "Harsh, Lee. Harsh." He paused meaningfully, taking that ridiculous stalk of wheat out of his mouth. "But are you man enough to actually go through with it? You wouldn't want to make a scene here, would you?"

And then he smirked.

Zuko grabbed him by the arm, yanking him to his feet, and for a moment, Jet looked genuinely surprised. "Outside," said Zuko, in a low voice. "Now."

Jet wrenched his arm out of Zuko's grip. "After you."

The few steps from the table to the street were a blur of nerves and rage. Zuko knew that the owner wasn't going to be pleased about this, but he had to settle it now. "What's your problem?" Zuko yelled when they got out the door. "Every day you come in here to do nothing but sit around, distract me from the other customers, and make my day just that much more excruciating! What do you want from me? Do you enjoy making my life miserable? Is that it?"

"Well, I got your attention, didn't I?"

Zuko was taken aback. He hadn't expected that. Maybe Jet really was crazy.

"Look, Lee. I like you."

Zuko glared skeptically at the other boy. He didn't look like he was lying - just amused at all of this. That only made it worse. Zuko crossed his arms, glaring. "You've got a funny way of showing it."

Jet rolled his eyes. "What are you so worried about? Tell me, what's so unbearable about the idea that someone might actually like you?"

"You don't know anything about me!" Zuko snapped, clenching his fists.

"Maybe not," replied Jet, infuriatingly amiable, "but I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to."

Was he trying to make this as difficult as possible? Zuko was trying his best to be furious at him, and here he was, making Zuko feel like the unreasonable one. Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"You're a good guy," said Jet. "I knew it from the moment I met you."

Something in Zuko's chest ached at those words, and he hated himself for it, and he hated Jet even more for whatever stupid game he was trying to play. He should have been angry - he was angry! Jet was obviously just trying to confuse him until he stopped yelling. Well, it wasn't going to work.

"You're a fool to judge a stranger so quickly." Zuko hoped he sounded like he meant it. He knew, intellectually, that it was true - no one with an ounce of sense could know that about someone they had just met.

Jet raised an eyebrow. "Are you telling me I'm wrong?"

How was he supposed to reply to that? "No, I..."

And suddenly, Zuko recognized the feeling making his head light and sending his pulse pounding two times too fast. It was hope. He wanted so badly to believe that what Jet was saying was true. That someone really did understand him. That he wasn't just one more person seeing what he wanted Zuko to be.

"Then what?"

It was impossible, of course. And misplaced hope was one of the most dangerous emotions there was.

He couldn't take another rejection.

"You wouldn't understand," said Zuko.

Jet folded his arms. "Try me."

Zuko felt the urge to bolt rise in him instinctively, but before he could do anything he would regret, the door opened. Zuko turned sharply, coming face to face with Pao, the owner of the tea shop.

He appeared less than pleased. "You! What are you doing out here? I'm not paying you to stand around and chat!"

"I was just -" Zuko began, but was interrupted by Pao pointing at Jet.

"And you! If I see you loitering around here again and wasting my employee's time, I'm calling the authorities!"

The glare that Jet shot the man was positively electric, and for a second, Zuko expected Jet to do something that would cause them both a great deal of trouble.

He didn't.

Jet turned to head down the street, but waited, catlike, just long enough to let Pao know that he was leaving because he wanted to, and not for any other reason. "Guess I'll give you some time to think about it," he called over his shoulder. "See you, Lee."

It was only a few seconds before he had disappeared into the mid-afternoon crowd, leaving all the rage and confusion inside Zuko with nowhere to go. Pao made a haughty sniffing noise, and turned back into the shop. Suddenly, Zuko felt very, very empty. Slumping back against the wall of the shop and shutting his eyes tight, he sighed.


*

Jet never came to the tea shop the next day. Good riddance, thought Zuko. Still, he wished he could shake the strange sense of discontentment he felt every time he looked out over the customers and didn't see that unmistakable flash of red and that shock of messy brown hair. While he certainly couldn't object to the relative peace that came with not having the other boy hanging around, a tiny, inexplicable part of him wished that they hadn't parted on such bad terms. More than that, Zuko wanted him to come back and explain himself. What had he meant by all those things he said?

His brow furrowed in annoyance. The nerve of that guy! He had no right to go around getting under people's skin like this! He wasn't even here and he was still wasting Zuko's time! He'd never wanted Jet to follow him around, he never gave Jet a free pass to loiter in his tea shop, and he certainly never gave Jet permission to invade his thoughts! And yet try as he might to focus on other things, he couldn't entirely shake the thought of the other boy. There he was, uninvited as always.

Jet had gotten exactly what he wanted. Zuko remembered him.