Ch 1- Reunion of Hated Allies

WARNING: Yaoi, OOC

Pairing: Jet/Zuko

Summary: When Zuko and Iroh find a badly hurt Jet under Lake Laogai, at first Zuko is reluctant to help, but over time the road to recovery grows less lonely for the both of them.

"Uncle, we need to leave quickly. The Dai Li will be here soon. I don't want to have to deal with them!" an angry Zuko shouted to his uncle.

"It looks like there was a fight here," the old man said, his nephew's voice meaning no more to him than a light breeze. He bent down, picking an arrow off the ground, the tip broken and chipped. "A large fight."

"Uncle! We have no time for this!" Zuko hissed as they entered a large room. It was empty, except for a slab rock in the middle, flat on one side and the height of a man. As the two men walked on, a figure appeared on the ground on the other side of the slab, about ten feet away.

"Zuko!" Iroh said, surprised. "Look there, nephew!" What dim light there was shimmered in a melancholy sort of way on the young figure's shoulder armor, and a bush of chocolate tinted hair blended with the color of the packed-dirt floor.

"He's dead, leave him," Zuko hissed, knowing who the boy was as they neared. His golden eyes narrowed and he swallowed so hard his Adam's apple bobbed as waves of hate in his stomach began to swirl. This was the boy that…

"Zuko!? Wasn't this the boy from the ferry?" Iroh asked, the still face of the young man on the ground haunting his memories.

"Yes. He's also the one that attacked us at the tea shop. I'd recognize those hookswords anywhere. Jet..." The prince's voice was quiet with the sort of anger that came only from a life time of blood and sweat. "He's dead, uncle. Leave him!"

And it did seem the boy was dead. A trail of dry blood ran from his nose, the corner of his mouth, and soaked the front of his shirt. Untouched, the virgin dirt of the ground around him seemed to have evaded the fray. It was as if the sheer force of whatever sent the motionless boy to the ground had thrown him a ways.

"No. He's still alive, Zuko! We need to get him out of here!" Iroh pulled his hand away from the gentle pulse at Jet's neck and turned to look his nephew in the face.

"Leave him, uncle!" Zuko shouted, fists clenching. His hatred to the boy only extended so far. His face relaxed when he looked at the young man by his feet. A small wave of pity came over him. A small one.

"Nephew! You are a good man! You would not condemn another to death for his mistakes in the past, when he needs you now! Now help me carry him!" Iroh's voice grew strict. He was not afraid to argue for what he believed in.

Zuko bent down, attaching the two hookswords to his belt. Good swords should not be left behind. It took Iroh's and Zuko's combined strength to lift Jet. Now as the boy's skin brushed against Zuko's, he could feel the pulse of his heart. It was soft, yes, but there.

Iroh kept his eyes ahead as they exited the lake. It was quite difficult getting a non-responsive human body up a ladder, but Zuko and his uncle somehow did it. It was strange seeing the unconscious teen in the tragic state. He remained Zuko of himself. So strong, so full of energy. It broke the Fire Nation boy's heart almost. Instead of Jet being carried along in critical condition, Zuko saw himself.

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"There. He should wake up soon. Try not to kill the boy while he's sleeping, nephew," Iroh said, nudging Zuko, whose eyes only narrowed. Perhaps it would take some self control, but no, he would not stab the boy while he slept.

"Now, I am going to go put on a pot of tea. Call me if he wakes," Iroh said, walking from the room. He whistled a tune Zuko remembered that went something along the lines of 'Brave Soldier boy forgottherestofthesooong'. Something of that sort.

Once alone, Zuko sat down opposite the wall of his bed, where the other lay. Great, now Zuko had to share a room with this pest, and give up his bed to him. His expression and posture softened, however, when he looked at the young man; at the bandages on his chest and bruising all over. His breathing was very slow, and every now and then he would cough, brows furrowing in an expression of pain. His tanned and scratched knuckles would whiten as even in his coma he clenched his fists in an angry sort of way.

Zuko stood, walking over to the boy who called himself Jet. He placed a hand to his cool forehead, the temperature sending chills up his spine. Jet's face relaxed, and he looked a step closer to coming out of the sleep he was in. For a split second that face did not look like the face of an enemy. That face looked like that of a friend whom he loved. And then the prince took a step backwards. No. Thoughts like that were not tolerated. He went and picked up Jet's swords. Perhaps they could be useful for clearing his head.

ooc: Hey look, after all this time I re-did Chapter One! It's strange trying to change one's own writing. I'll get the hang of it in the segments to come.