Zuko squinted as the sun streamed through the open window of his bedroom. Rubbing his eyes and groaning, he sat up and threw back the sheets. Just as he set his feet on the ground, the door creaked open, and a large gray-haired man poked his head in.

"Oh good, you're up!" He said in an annoyingly enthusiastic tone.

"Morning, Uncle," Zuko replied flatly. He yawned. "I'll be down in half an hour."

"No rush." His uncle closed the door. Zuko stood up and rubbed the last of the sleep from his eyes. As he did, his fingers landed on the rough, ruined flesh around his left eye. For just a moment, a vision of fire flashed through his memory, then it vanished. Shaking his head, he went to the bathroom to wash up.

Looking in the mirror, he could tell his hair was getting shaggy. No doubt Uncle would order it cut soon. His face was thinner, too, making his features more sharp and rugged. Zuko figured if anyone saw him as he was right now, walking down the street, they'd probably put a tighter grip on their wallet.

It didn't take him long to run a brush through his hair and throw on a black polo shirt and khakis. He met his uncle Iroh in the kitchen, where a fresh omelet and a glass of orange juice was waiting for him. His uncle smiled, and after a moment, Zuko smiled back. He never understood how his uncle could be so kind, so loving, treating Zuko as his own son.

Iroh sat down across the table. "So," he said conversationally as they ate, "how's the new school going?"

"Fine."

"Made some friends?"

"Yeah." That was a lie. Zuko was getting to know his classmates, sure, but they were more like acquaintances, if anything. He pretty much just knew their names, and some basic information. Zuko wasn't really the social type.

His uncle raised an eyebrow, but pressed on anyway. "Any lady friends?"

"Enough, Uncle." He sighed. "I appreciate that you care, but I'm not really focused on making a life here."

Iroh raised his hands in surrender. "Fine. Have it your way. But realize that you can't shut people out forever. We're here to make a new start. For both of us." He crossed behind Zuko's chair and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's time to open up the shop. Come on."

Zuko followed his uncle downstairs and went to his spot behind the counter. When they first came to the city, he and his uncle had gotten jobs at a coffee and tea shop, but due to some luck and his uncle's amazing tea-making skills, they'd managed to open a shop of their own.

At exactly nine o'clock, Iroh flipped the sign in front to "Open." Soon thereafter, the first customers of the day came in. It was the usual crowd of businesspeople, Saturday morning gym-goers, and teenagers with laptops and homework. The first hour passed in a blur of lattes, espresso shots, and no-whip-skim-milk-extra-syrup-sprinkle-of-cinnamon.

Eventually, business reached a lull, and Zuko allowed himself to take a break. He sat in silence, and his mind began to drift.

His father's eyes were steaming with anger. "How dare you!" he yelled. "Insolent boy. You do not know your place."

"Please," Zuko begged, "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I promise."

There was one moment, one flash of sympathy, one brief sign that his father might relent. Then that hope dissolved as the scowl grew deeper.

"I do not think so. It's time you learned your lesson, boy."

Shuddering, Zuko pulled himself out of the memory. Then a steaming cup of jasmine tea materialized in front of him. He looked to his right, and his uncle smiled and patted him on the back before returning to the customers. Zuko took the tea gratefully, but his topaz eyes glinted with ghosts of his past.

"Um, excuse me." Zuko turned. A girl smiled tentatively from the other side of the counter.

"Sorry," he muttered, returning hastily to his spot. "Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon. What can I get for you?"

"I'd like a café mocha with a shot of caramel, and a croissant, please." Zuko met her eyes and suddenly recognized her as that bubbly, smart girl in his science and history classes. Sort of a know-it-all, but nice all the same. Her eyes were a radiant shade of blue, which contrasted with her dark tan skin and thick brown hair.

He jotted down her order on his notepad. "Would you like that for here or to go?"

"For here, please."

"Okay. We'll bring it out to you in a minute. It's, uh, Katara, right?" She nodded, the corner of her lip raising slightly. She paid, thanked him politely and went to a table. Across the shop, his uncle made eye contact with him, raising an eyebrow and smiling. Zuko shot him an eye roll in return, to which his uncle only chuckled.

As Zuko mixed Katara's coffee, he took occasional glances at where she sat. He noticed she kept checking her phone and staring out the window, looking more and more distressed. She hardly noticed when he brought over the tray with her coffee and croissant.

Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. She'd only taken a few small sips of her mocha, and the croissant was untouched. She just kept staring out the window, as if waiting for someone, but after twenty minutes had passed, Katara was still studying her half-drunk coffee and picking at her croissant dejectedly.

Iroh tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a big tray. "How about you clear off these tables, eh? I'll take the counter." His uncle nodded his head toward Katara and winked. Zuko rolled his eyes, but complied. Iroh was always trying to set him up with girls. Sure, they were probably nice and everything, but Zuko had no time for that, which was something his uncle didn't quite seem able to grasp.

Zuko went around to all the empty tables, picking up the leftover plates, mugs and trash, and placed them in the sink. As he was coming back with a rag and the cleaning solution, however, his left foot suddenly slipped from under him, and he came crashing down, knocking over a chair. Everyone looked at him, and he grumbled, "I'm fine." As the customers went back to their business, Zuko dusted himself off and was about to stand up when a slender hand extended in front of him. With hesitation, he took it.

Katara was smiling sympathetically. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied, rubbing his neck with embarrassment. "Just, uh, slipped in a puddle." He picked up the bottle of solution and the rag, both of which had fallen on the floor when he did. Katara sat back down, her coffee and food in the same state it was in ten minutes before.

With slight awkwardness, he asked, "Um… still working on that?"

After a moment of though, she sighed with resignation. "No. I think I'm done. I was waiting for someone, but… I don't think he's coming." She looked down sadly. Zuko's chest flared with a twinge of pity. Whatever jerk she'd planned to meet here, he'd stood her up. He also felt a flick of anger that he couldn't quite explain.

He took her dishes and was about to leave, when she said, "Hey, uh, do you remember when that biology project is due?"

Zuko turned. "Huh? What project?"

Katara blushed. "Um, the one about forensics and DNA testing. I forgot to write down the date."

"Oh," he replied. "Two weeks from yesterday, I think. That would be December… 19th?"

"That sounds about right. Thanks."

"No problem."

Zuko took the dishes to the back to be washed. He stole one more glance at Katara, but she had gone. Sighing a little, he loaded the dirty plates and mugs into the dishwasher, and put all the clean ones back on the shelf. By the time he was done, the usual lunchtime haul started to filter in. Lots of teenage girls, and quite a few teenage guys, many of them hipster-types. Starbucks was too mainstream, after all.

The rest of the day passed as usual. At 8 pm, the sign flipped to "Closed." Zuko went around to all the tables, cleaning them off and putting up the chairs. Then he noticed something blue on the floor by the window.

He picked it up and recognized it as the scarf Katara had been wearing when she came in that morning. How he'd remembered something like that, he had no idea. It was clearly hand-knit, with intricate swirly patterns, like ocean waves. Most likely, she'd been so distracted that she didn't realize she'd left it. Zuko's conscience told him he should probably get it back to her, but he didn't really want to take it to school.

"Uncle!" he called up the stairs. "I'm going out."

Iroh appeared at the top of the steps. "Alright," he replied. "Don't be out too late."

"I won't." After looking up Katara's address in the school directory, Zuko got in his car and drove toward the nearby subdivision. Her house wasn't difficult to find. It was on the first street, made of brown stone. It was a nice house, three stories tall, with a large yard. Quite the contrast to his modest apartment, but a lifestyle he was familiar with in a past life.

Zuko's heartbeat quickened as he strolled up the walk to the door. He took a deep breath, and rang the bell. After a few seconds, the door opened, and there stood Katara, wearing leggings and a baggy Christmas sweater, but looking no less pretty. She looked surprised to see Zuko there, for obvious reasons.

"Hey," she said, her voice wavering with curiousity. "What's up?"

Zuko gulped, and held out her scarf. "You left this earlier."

Katara sighed in relief. "Oh my goodness, thank you so much. I couldn't remember where I'd lost it." She took the scarf in her hands. "You didn't have to drive it over here for me."

He shrugged. "It's fine. I had nothing else I needed to do anyway."

She smiled. "Well, I appreciate it." Inside the house, a timer went off, and Katara became alert. "Whoops! That would be the oven." She was about to turn back to the kitchen, then hesitated. "Do you want some cookies? We've got plenty to spare, and I need some quality control testing."

"Uh… okay." Zuko stepped in, tentatively following her to the kitchen. His eyes widened at the sight of the counter. Katara wasn't kidding when she said they had plenty of cookies. Spread across every available surface was a brilliant array of sugar cookies, ginger snaps, gingerbread, shortbread, and mint chocolate chip.

"Sorry about the mess," she said. "I tend to drown my sorrows in baking."

"There are worse ways," responded a guy on the couch, with a whole plate full in front of him and a glass of milk. "Let me know next time some guy breaks up with you."

Katara rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Sokka." She glanced apologetically at Zuko. "Please ignore my brother. He just got home from college yesterday." Turning her back to him, she grabbed a paper plate and loaded it up with cookies, then covered the whole thing in plastic wrap. She handed him the package. "Merry Christmas."

"Thanks." Zuko hesitated, then added, "He's not worth it."

"Huh?"

"This guy, whoever he is. If he doesn't recognize the privilege of having you, he's not worth your time."

She smiled gratefully. "Thanks. I probably should have known Jet was trouble anyway. I guess I was just another girl he had fooled. After I got home, he did it through a text message." She sighed. "Ah, well. That's that, then. I'll, uh, see you at school, I suppose."

"Yeah." Zuko broke her gaze, but was was forced to meet it again. He was glad to see that her brilliant blue eyes had regained some of their sapphire sparkle.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear nervously. "Maybe we could, you know, hang out sometime."

"Yeah, um, that would be… nice." Zuko responded awkwardly.

"Good night."

"Good night."

When Zuko got back home, he put the cookies on the kitchen table and jogged up the stairs. His uncle poked his head out and said, "How was your outing?"

Zuko went to his room, but paused before he shut the door.

"It was nice."

Thanks for reading, reviews appreciated!