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The Ember Island Players had been exactly as good as Zuko had expected, which was to say that they were awful. Truly, there couldn’t be much theater worse than what they did. A bunch of school children with two days to rehearse looked like high art next to what he and the rest of the Gaang had been subjected to.
Everything from the costumes to the sets to the trite dialogue made it a slog to get through. Zuko did have to admit, though, that whichever unfortunate man ran the special effects was doing as good a job as possible with the trash he had been given. The Players hadn’t even managed to get his scar on the correct side.
And they’d even added extra events that hadn’t happened in real life, like Jet dying.
As they sat around the campfire that night, Zuko was itching to inquire about what had happened to Jet. It had been so long since he thought about him, really thought about him, the way he used to in Ba Sing Se. How wonderful it had felt spending time with Jet, how betrayed he had been when Jet had turned against him. How, sometimes, he itched to be back with Jet, in his arms in the back streets of the Earth Kingdom.
No, he swore he wasn’t going to think about it, how it had begun, how it had progressed, how it had ended. In all the ways it had ended.
“Jet didn’t actually die, right? I know Sokka said it was unclear, but that was a joke, right?” Zuko wasn’t asking anyone in particular, and he was almost surprised by the fact he’d managed to say anything.
“Well, we left him in that cave after he got injured, with Smellerbee and Longshot, and we never saw him again, so I sort of just assumed he’d died,” Sokka said.
“He wasn’t breathing much when we left him,” Katara said, “and his injury was really bad.” She stared down at the fire, her finger twitching.
“You left him to die in a cave?” Zuko was trying to wrap his head around how this group, this never leave a man behind group, this always protect everyone group, could just abandon Jet. Sure, he had done things, cruel things, but that was no justification. But only Zuko knew about his past with Jet. What had he meant to the rest of the Gaang?
“We didn’t have much of a choice,” Aang said, “we had to leave. Smellerbee swore she and Longshot could handle it.”
“Yeah. You weren’t even there, you didn’t know him.” There was a pause after Sokka spoke. “You didn’t know him, right?”
“We met once or twice. We were acquaintances,” Zuko mumbled.
“I can tell when you’re lying,” Toph said.
“Fine, we were friends.”
“Closer,” she teased.
“Okay! We hooked up a few times, are you happy?”
“Yep,” she said, “I am happy. That’s absolutely hilarious.”
“Really? It’s hilarious that I just found out he’s dead?”
“Oh, sorry.” She looked down at the ground or, rather, lowered her head towards the ground.
“I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that people actually found Jet attractive,” Sokka said.
And he’d said it, found. No one currently finds Jet attractive because he isn’t around anymore. He’s dead. Gone. Forever. Zuko would never get to resolve things between them. The last memory he’d always have of Jet would be him attacking Zuko, hating him for what he couldn’t control.
Zuko couldn’t sleep that night. He thought he’d gotten over it, the guilt ridden insomnia, but old habits die hard. He’d laid in the room on Ember Island, listened to the night creatures scurry and crawl, and hovered above rest.
Late that night, hours between the moon’s rise and the sun’s chase, Zuko began to wander the grounds of his former summer home. He tried to be quiet, to let everyone else sleep, but then he heard something, some sound around the corner.
He slowly inched along the wall, poked his head around it.
Katara was standing, bathed in moonlight, water flowing between her fingers. Her movements were smooth, controlled, careful.
“Aang?” She asked.
“No, it’s me. Zuko.”
“Oh. What are you doing up this late?”
“I’d ask you the same question.” He settled on the packed dirt to await her response.
“I was practicing my bending. It’s nice, sometimes, to bend beneath the moon. But aren’t you firebenders supposed to wake up with the sun?”
“I guess, but I couldn’t sleep.” She stood there for a second without moving. “Please don’t stop on account of me.”
“It wasn’t for you,” she said. “It’s just, well.” She let the water fall back to the ground. “You knew Jet too. And I, I also had a past with him. We both did.”
“Everyone else knows that now, thanks to Toph.”
“Oh come on, you don’t have to listen to her, you could have just not told us.”
“Nope, Toph’s terrifying.” Katara smiled, something Zuko was secretly proud of, considering her usual look at him was a scowl.
“Right, how could I forget.” She looked at the moon. “I just miss him sometimes. Jet, I mean. Even though I probably shouldn’t, I wonder what could have happened if he were just a little different. A little better.”
“I get it. He tried to kill me and I still lose minutes, hours sometimes thinking about him. And now I’ll never get to see him.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t be mad at you if he were here today.”
“I’m Fire Nation. He could never forgive me for that.”
“No, but I think he would have made an exception for you.”
“You really think so?” Zuko tried not to look hopeful, but Uncle always said he wore his emotions like a sign over his head.
“No, I don’t know. I never got to spend much time with him. But I don’t want you to beat yourself up over the past.” She touched the necklace she always wore. “It’s painful enough without our help.”
They sat together under the cool wash of moonlight.
“If he’s really gone, do you think it’s been long enough to make fun of that ridiculous piece of straw he always chewed?” Zuko asked, and he could have sworn he actually heard her laugh for a moment before she silenced herself.
“That was a really stupid affectation, wasn’t it.”
“But also kind of hot, I’m not going to lie.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.” They sat a moment longer before Katara stood up. “We should both get some sleep tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.” She began to walk away.
“Wait, before you go, I want to thank you.”
“For what? This was for both of us.”
Zuko yawned as she walked away, the tiredness in his bones hitting him in waves like the tide, pulled along by the moon.