A month had passed since Zuko's awakening.  The Firelord was physically, at least, recovered from his ordeal though some had their own doubts about his mental state.  Azula had been tried and placed in prison for the rest of her natural life, while Ursa and Iroh had both been pardoned.  Several of those involved in the last fight had chosen to remain in the Fire Nation while Zuko tried to get everything together; among them were Song, Haru, and Aang.

Reports were filtering in from across the nation; the most distressing of these came from the Coastline Base, which recently had been attacked.  Haru had been sent out with the team of investigators and came back to report that the base had been completely torn apart and no survivors had been found — and that the attack had been carried out by Dai Li agents.

Once he finished reporting to General Iroh, now in charge of security, the earthbender stalked to a practice court he and Toph had set up before she'd left with Sokka and Suki.

Unnoticed by the earthbender, Ty Lee snuck out to follow him there. She'd taken to following the pretty young man a lot, when she thought he wouldn't catch her — Mai was dead, Azula imprisoned, and Zuko never smiled anymore, so it was rather lonely for her in the palace.

Right now, Haru seemed almost frighteningly single-minded, scarcely taking note of the people he passed; when he crossed into a little-used part of the grounds, the chain around his waist came off and he began to swing it in a circle.

She perched in a tree, well-hidden by the branches, to watch him.

Once he got a good momentum, he began to move with the chain, flowing from stance to stance almost as though he was dancing.  Clearly, he'd been teaching himself to use it as a weapon.

It was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. She hugged her branch, hardly daring to breathe for fear of being discovered.

Finally, he slowed, and then stopped, returning the chain to its place around his waist.  He then moved into an earthbending stance and began an entirely different set of kata, though he didn't move as gracefully with this.

It was still beautiful. Again, she held her breath, watching.

Once he was finished with that, he glanced around to be certain he was alone, then raised a circular wall of earth around him — though he did not put a roof on it, leaving the acrobat able to see him still.  Once hidden, he earthbent again, and removed a large sheet of dented, twisted metal from the ground.  He placed this flat on the ground in front of him, then sat lotus-style, clearly meditating.

She frowned a little, and dared to inch a little closer on her branch for a better view.

For several minutes, nothing happened — and then Haru abruptly straightened, then slammed his fists into the metal five times in rapid succession.

The metal held — and then crumpled.

Her eyes widened and she barely avoided gasping and giving away her presence.

By now the earthbender was panting.  He got to his feet shakily and brought down his walls, taking care to bury the even-more dented sheet of metal when he did.  After that, he made his way shakily back to the main areas of the palace.

She waited until he was out of sight, then slipped down from her tree, to sit down for a minute where he'd been working. The earth was still warm.

She had never wanted a boy quite as much as she wanted this one.

 

*          *          *

 

A few days after Ty Lee had discovered Haru secretly metalbending, she found him out on the grounds, sleeping with one hand trailing in the turtleduck pond. Amusingly, since he'd been trying to cultivate a tough-guy image in the palace, a trio of turtleducklings were curled up on his chest.

She covered her mouth to muffle the slight giggle she couldn't otherwise suppress, then set about her own practice — making sure he could see her when he woke up.  However, every time she looked over at him, he still looked as though he was sleeping.

She sighed faintly, disappointed, but kept going, anyhow.

The next time she looked over, his eyes were open.

"Hello," she said, from her upside-down position.

"Hi," he replied, still lying down — the turtleducklings were still there.

She flipped back over so she was right-side up again.  "I'm Ty Lee."

"I know."  Haru sat up, moving one arm to cradle the turtleducklings and keep them from taking a tumble, and smiled at her.  "I'm Haru."

She smiled back. "It's nice to meet you."

"Yeah."

Suddenly she had no idea what to say. She even felt awkward — which was decidedly odd, though the squirmy feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant — so, blushing a little, she stammered out some excuse about checking in on Zuko — someone had to try and make him smile again, and the people he worked with all day certainly weren't going to — and scampered off to her room.

Bemused, the earthbender watched her go.

 

That day started a routine of sorts, though perhaps only Ty Lee knew it.  She would follow him and watch him run through his various kata, including the metalbending, and then when he went to sleep it off by the turtleduck pond she would do a workout of her own until he woke up.

And then one day a few weeks later, about twenty minutes into his meditation, Haru unexpectedly looked up into Ty Lee's eyes.  "How long do you intend to keep this up?"

She yelped a little and almost fell out of the tree, catching herself on the branch on her way down. "I — um — I'm sorry!" She dropped the rest of the way with a little more control and fled.

"Ty Lee!  Wait!" he called after her.

She kept running until she made the mistake of looking back to see if he was following. Not paying attention, she tripped on the small ridge of earth Haru had managed to bend up, messed up catching herself because she was so flustered, and ended up sprawled on the ground.

"Ty Lee—"  He was close.

"I'm sorry for spying on you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't do it anymore, I promise…" she babbled out, why'd I have to get caught, now everything's falling apart again and it's all my fault…

"Why?" he asked her.

"I didn't mean to bother you, I just… I don't know!"

He put a hand on her shoulder.  "Ty Lee…"

"Y-yeah?" She finally looked up at him.

He kissed her.

This, she understood and knew how to do, though she was slightly confused as to why he was kissing her.

Not that she minded, of course.

She kissed him back.

They stayed there for a long time, until the earthbender finally pulled away from her.  A little hesitantly, she smiled up at him.  "I've known," he told her softly, running a hand down her cheek.

"Oh…" She blushed a little, then caught his hand and kissed it, only partly to cover her embarrassment.

"You never told anyone."

She shook her head. "Nope."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." She wasn't quite sure why he was being so secretive, but… well, it was his secret to keep or share. Which was why she was sure he'd be mad at her when he found out she'd been spying.

He took her hand in his.  "Want to go for a walk?"

"…Okay!"

 

*          *          *

 

After the final battle of the war, the newly-crowned Firelord Zuko had thrown himself entirely into his new work — not necessarily because he enjoyed it (most of the time, the opposite was rather true), but because it was something that needed to be done, and helped him avoid thinking about all the things he wished he didn't know or remember or dream about.

To further avoid sleep, he spent most nights in a practice arena, trying to keep in shape — no easy feat when he couldn't get his balance to work the way it had before.

A voice drifted lazily from behind him: "You're off-balance."

"I'm aware of that," he replied, through gritted teeth.

"Then fix it, sir."

"I'm trying."

Silence.

Zuko growled something impolite under his breath and shifted again, with no better results than the last stance he'd tried.

Footsteps; the man watching him was coming closer.  "Move your foot to the right an inch or so."

Zuko did as suggested.  As it turned out, this stance was much more comfortable.  He frowned a little to himself, then started running through his kata again.

After a few moments, the voice spoke again.  "You see?  The key is to forget you ever had that arm."

The young Firelord nodded a little.  His unseen instructor made a few other suggestions, but mostly kept his own council.  Every few minutes, he tried to see who was offering the advice, but the man remained mostly in shadow.

Finally, after an hour or two of this work, he turned around again to suggest they stop for the night. He still had some papers he needed to go over before he was willing to risk nightmares.

The other man was leaning casually against the wall, no longer in the shadows, clad in practise garments.  An insignia on his belt indicated that he was one of the Li clan, a military family older than even Zuko's — but the first thing Zuko noticed was the empty place where the man's left arm should have been.

That explains how he knew what to do. Zuko didn't say anything out loud though, just bowed very slightly. "Thank you for the advice."

The soldier bowed in return.  "It was an honour, my lord."

The Firelord nodded, then left the room and slipped back into his study.

 

Several days after his first meeting with Li Daisuke — the one-armed soldier — Zuko, fed up with the poor lighting (and poorer handwriting) he was trying to work with in his study, went to try and work outside. It was a nice day, and maybe the better quality light would help his head stop hurting.

Song was out there, feeding the turtleducks.

Zuko hadn't seen much of the young doctor since he'd woken up — they were both very busy, and often busy at the same time.  Why was she still there?  She should have gone home months ago.

He frowned a little to himself, wondering, then decided not to worry about it — if she wanted to stay here, that was her business. She was welcome to if she so chose. He settled himself under a tree with his papers to try and fight through some more of them.

When he looked up again, she was looking at him.

"Hello," he said, after a few seconds of awkward, slightly stunned, silence.

"H-hi," she said, a bit too quickly, flushing slightly and looking back down at the water.

He flushed a little himself, and turned back to his papers, frowning again. He turned the one on top upside down. It failed to make it more comprehensible. It also failed to make it less incomprehensible.

He felt like shooting something. Namely, whoever wrote the damn illegible memo.

A shadow fell over him.  It was Song.

He looked up again.

"You seem stressed, my lord," she said quietly.

"…I'm fine. And you don't need to call me "my lord.""

She laughed as she settled down next to him.  "Liar."

He arched his eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"You're tense."

"I'm fine. I told you."

"I can help you relax," she offered anyway.

He jerked his mind out of the gutter, where it really had no time to be anyways. "I see." He was blushing, wasn't he. Dammit.

"Come away from the tree?"

He did as he was told, standing and stepping away from it.  She got him to sit down again, then knelt behind him.  The next thing he knew, her hands were moving over his shoulders, seeking out the tense muscles there and slowly massaging the knots out.  Slowly, he relaxed, making it even more difficult to focus on the illegible papers he was trying to read. Before he'd realized it was happening, he'd drifted off to sleep.

Song smiled a little and gently eased him back — he needed the sleep even more than he'd needed that massage.  Rather than lay him entirely on the ground and risk him waking, however, she settled his head in her lap and leaned back against the tree herself.

It wasn't long before he twitched a little, frowning faintly in his sleep.

Half asleep herself, Song looked down at him.

His frown deepened as he twitched again, making a small noise of — fear, maybe? It was hard to tell.

Coming fully awake, Song tried to soothe the young Firelord.  He quieted a little under her touch, though he still looked remarkably unhappy.  With a sigh, the young doctor closed her eyes.  Him and Yì Suì…

 

After about an hour, Zuko drifted back awake, and was momentarily disoriented. Where am I…? Oh… right, came to work outside. That means… He looked up. His head was still in Song's lap. He flushed.

Song's eyes were closed, and she had a very faint smile on her face.

…Is she asleep…?

She certainly seemed to be.  She had to be, really; while one of her hands lay against the grass, the other was resting lightly on his chest.

He debated moving. He didn't really want to. And it wouldn't be polite to disturb the sleeping girl. But he should get back to work…

Then again, the papers he'd brought out were within reach. He could go back to trying to decipher them without disturbing her.  Song sighed in her sleep and shifted slightly; her hand trailed across his chest to his shoulder.  He froze, halfway through drawing his papers over, to make sure he hadn't woken her up. When he was satisfied of this, he started trying to read them.

And made mental notes to mandate handwriting and grammar lessons, as soon as he had the time and monetary and political capital to do so.

Time passed, and the doctor woke up.  "Oh!" she exclaimed softly.

He looked up from his papers. "Hey. Sleep well?"

"…yeah."  She smiled ruefully.  "I didn't mean to."

He didn't smile back, but he came close. "It's all right." He turned back to the paper, frowning again.

She looked at it as well.  "…did a seven-year-old write that?"

"He'll be fifty-eight next Tuesday."

"That's a very long time to be seven."

Zuko shook his head. "No, he's not seven. Most seven-year-olds have decipherable grammar."

"Good point," she conceded.

"…Although I will concede that some seven-year-olds have worse handwriting. Not many, but some."

Song laughed.  "Well, don't spend too long staring at that.  You'll go blind."  She slipped her hands under his head and gently eased him up.

"Problem is, this is one of the important ones," he muttered, annoyed.

"Perhaps you should hire a translator," she teased.

"I'm not inflicting this headache on anyone else," he replied.

Cool fingers pressed lightly against his temples.  "Does it hurt here?"

"… I'm fine," he said, even though it did.

"Liar."  Her fingers began to move in slow, gentle circles.

"If you do that, I'll fall asleep again," he pointed out.

"If you fall asleep again, you're badly in need of it," she countered.

"I'm getting a couple hours most nights," he shot back, defensively. "I just have better things to do."

"Zuko, you're seventeen.  People our age need eight to ten hours of sleep a night, ideally."

"I don't have time for that."

"Neither do I," she admitted.  "But Doctor Chang won't let me set foot in the infirmary unless I get at least six hours."

"… I don't have time for that, either," he said. "I usually aim for two or three."

Her fingers stopped moving.

"Something wrong?" he asked, frowning and looking up from the paper he was still trying to decode.

"You, my lord," she said, rising to her feet, "are an idiot."  She walked away.

He blinked after her, a little confused. What brought that on?

After a moment, he gave in to the inevitable, collected his papers, and headed back inside. It was almost sundown, and he still had ten people expecting to meet with him that day.

And people wonder why I don't have time to sleep.

 

*          *          *

 

Zuko began making a habit of taking his paperwork outside in the afternoons — not because he wanted to see Song every day, of course. Simply because the light was better. His head ached a little less when he read outside than when he read in his study.

Song, for her part, was outside whenever she wasn't needed in the infirmary or by Yì Suì.  Because the turtleducks needed to be fed.  Yes.  That was it.

He rarely initiated conversation — not wanting to disturb her. He would usually sit under a tree, glaring at his paperwork.  After an hour or so of this, she would rise and slide behind him, trying to alleviate his tension with a shoulders-and-temples massage, which rarely failed to make him fall asleep.

And thus did the rumour mill begin to churn.  Song ignored them; no matter what it looked like, she wasn't trying to seduce the young Firelord.  They were friends, nothing more.  And he certainly didn't want her to seduce him. Not at all. And he certainly didn't put up with the drowsiness her massages caused as an excuse to let her touch him.

However, Song made a point of never being alone with him if they weren't in the public eye — she was afraid of negative backlash impacting poor Yì Suì.  Fortunately, the rumour mill seemed content to ignore him — most of the palace didn't even seem to be aware he existed.  This suited Song and Yì Suì equally well.  Even better, Song didn't need to worry about the boy while she was on shift in the infirmary, as Lady Ursa had taken to looking after him as well.

The princess dowager was even teaching him how to read.

All told, everything really seemed to be going well.

One such afternoon, Zuko didn't show up the way he usually did, and Song was almost late for her next shift waiting for him.  Once she got to the infirmary, she was much quieter than usual.

"What's wrong?" Doctor Chang asked her, a little concerned.

Startled, she looked up at him.  "Nothing's wrong," she replied, confused.

"… If you're sure," he said, and dropped the issue.

About a half an hour later, a page pressed a folded note into her hand.  It was another hour before she had enough of a breather to take a look at it.

 

Miss Song —

I'm sorry I missed our meeting earlier, I got tied up at my desk and couldn't leave.

 

— Zuko.

 

He'd fallen asleep at his desk.  Song laughed aloud and skipped back out into the infirmary proper.  Chang arched an eyebrow. "Good news?"

"After a fashion," she said cheerfully.

"Good." He smiled at her, then went back onto his rounds.

Song was still in a good mood when she returned to the quarters she shared with Yì Suì that evening.  Ursa was with him. They were sitting on the floor, practicing writing.  The young doctor paused, drinking in the scene.  Yì Suì looked so happy, and that was such a rare thing for the boy.

"You seem delighted," Ursa said, looking up and smiling at her.

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do. Ah, not quite, Yì Suì, more like this."

Song smiled and found a seat at the table, stretching languidly and wondering why she was so happy.

Ursa gave her a searching look, then, conversationally, after a moment, said, "You know, many of the various Houses are trying to court my son. Everyone with an eligible female relative within ten years of his age, in fact."

The doctor froze.   "…really?"

"Yes." The older woman's face and tone were very even. "One of them, a Lady Zhan, has developed quite the infatuation. It borders on an obsession."

Song did not like this turn of events at all.

…wait.  Why does this make me so… oh, dear.

"She tries to turn up in hallways when she thinks he'll be there, hangs around his study… She also keeps sending him letters soaked in perfume. Which really don't help her case. Or his headaches." Now Ursa sounded rather annoyed,

The doctor scowled.  "He must be allergic to something in the perfume.  No wonder he's so tense when I see him."

"Well, that and he doesn't have enough lights in his study and doesn't get nearly enough sleep."

"He sleeps with me."  Song paused, realised what she'd said, and blushed.  "I-I-I mean, he s-sleeps outside!  When w-we're by the p-pond!"

Ursa smiled. "I know what you meant. And you're right. But the problem is, that's about all the sleep he gets."

"I know."  She sighed.  "He told me he manages a couple hours a night, which isn't enough for someone his age."

"He tries for a couple hours a night," Ursa corrected, annoyed again. "He averages a little less than one."

The girl's next sigh was rather vexed.  "Idiot."

"Sometimes I wonder where he got his anal devotion to what he sees as his duty."

"So it isn't a Fire Nation thing?" Song asked.

"Not usually."

"Well, I'll do what I can," the doctor promised.

"Thank you. He doesn't listen to me. He seems to be convinced I'm trying to sedate him. I wonder where he might have gotten that idea." She sounded so very innocent, her son's suspicions couldn't possibly be unfounded.

Song raised her eyebrow.  "Of course.  Then it was just my imagination that I saw you making tea with winter cherry."

"Must have been. I would never think of drugging my son." One could practically see the halo.

"Of course not.  And the king of Omashu really is as stupid as he acts."

"Absolutely."

"So long as that's settled, then."

"Indeed." Still smiling, Ursa turned back to Yì Suì, gently correcting his writing.