Chapter Text
Today is a beautiful day and Lee is a terrible orphan.
Don’t get Han wrong, all orphans are terrible. They’ve got all these big emotions, no impulse control, and hearts freshly damaged by grief.
They’re angry, to a one, and none of them have a lick of common sense between them. All they know is that they are hurt. They are hurt, crying didn’t bleed the pain away so what else is there to do other than tackle the other hurt kid who called them a doody-head into the dirt and see if that helps. From there it devolves into a veritable see-saw of hysterical emotions leading to poor life choices.
Look, no judgement. Han doesn’t need to love them. He doesn’t need to like them. All he needs to do is his job. Which is to keep these kids in relatively one piece until an opportunity to be productive members of society comes along that Han can shove them into. That’s it. If along the way he can corral them into channeling their fury into weeding the vegetable patch or scrubbing walls? Fine. Excellent even.
But not firewood. None of them will ever chop firewood ever again.
Orphans are terrible. They have every right to be as far as Han’s concerned.The world is at war. But the fact remains, the front door still needs replacement.
Having said all that, Han can now safely say as a man who has been shepherd to young, volatile, and freshly abandoned souls for over three decades now that without a single solitary doubt in his mind:
Lee is the worst.
The actual worst. Because Lee has all the traits adults hate to see in a young mind not yet morally, spiritually, or even emotionally tied to law and order.
Lee has drive.
Not only drive but an analytical, well educated mind with a deep disdain bordering on personal affront for idle hands. The home has never been cleaner. The floors shine. Beds made. Futons folded. Clothes put away. No working kitchen is spotless, but in the past couple of years their’s is no longer a tripping hazard of vegetables and roots spilling out of haphazardly placed baskets. There are almost never live lop-eared rabbits found hidden in the cold cellar anymore.
Lee is also very quiet. A blessing to any other home, perhaps. He slinks around like a barn cat, tips silently out of windows just as easily as he slips through the crack in a door. Han now knows what it feels like to be haunted. Possibly hunted. The two, he’s learned, are not mutually exclusive.
And lastly, what really brings together these ingredients to make any parent’s raw nightmare a fully baked reality, Lee’s got himself one bad attitude. He’s defsensive to the point of explosive shouting. He’s argumentative to the point of explosive shouting. He’s opinionated and disdainful of others to the point of explosve shouting. Look. The kid yells. A lot. Never bothering to ask for permission and daring you to ask for an apology.
And unfortunately he’s the type of angry, caustic soul that young impressionable minds find absolutely charming and imprint on without a second’s thought.
The other orphans love Lee.
Lee does not need adoption because he’s already been claimed by every child in the home.
They pack away the futons and blankets. The bowls get scrubbed straight away. Muddy shoes left on the porch. The floors swept. Torn clothes patched. All because that’s how Lee operates, and somehow his angry tirades have endeared himself to the tiny masses.
It is nothing short of a wonder.
Lee has got to go.
Han’s four weeks out from riots and ostracization from the village.
Because what the children are also doing is slinking around like barn cats and terrorizing the townsfolk, passersby, and the livestock, all because Lee walks the earth like a shadow and the children emulate him as if he were their one true stealth prophet. And what else are they supposed to do with their new found skill if not make life exceedingly uncomfortable for all the adults around them?
It is unsettling, Han has been informed in depth, to open your door and find an unknown child behind it. It is unsettling to open the barn and find a child covered in meadow voles, where there should be neither child nor vol. It is unsettling to look up from gardening to find a child doing cartwheels on your roof.
By spirits, has Han heard about it. As if this weren’t his life.
Han takes a deep lungful of spring air, digs down deep into that inner place of eternal peace. The place that labels throttling children, even teenagers, as vile and beneath his person.
“I need you to listen,” Han says with all the serenity he does not feel.
Lee, clearly not, is busy glaring murderously at the group congregated at various levels of the front of the home. Children gawking through the windows. Children peeking through the ax hole in the front door. Children on the roof. Children in the hedge. Han does not need to turn around for visual confirmation to know these things for Han feels them and despairs deep in his soul.
Lee pantomimes slicing his throat.
A wave of giggles erupts in an unfortunate stereo. This does not please the boy.
“Lee. Listen. Listen, Lee. Look at me.” Han uses two fingers on one hand to point at Lee then folds one down to point at himself.
This achieves the goal of getting those two unsettling gold eyes, one peering through the narrow slit of the equally unsettling burn scar to focus on the face standing not five feet away.
“I got you a job. It is good work, hard work but you’ll be protec- Lee! Spirits. Focus, Lee.”
Lee stops miming threats to look blankly at the authority figure.
Han sighs. Deeply and from his stomach. Never before had he met a kid so in need-in want- of a greater purpose only to completely ignore all forms of guidance. As if it never occurred to him that perhaps, just maybe, others might know a thing or two he doesn’t.
“Okay. Let’s try this. Repeat these words: I, Lee, have a job.”
Lee huffs.“I, Lee, have a job,” the boy parrots with only minor attitude.
“I will go to this job.”
“I will go to this job.”
“I will perform all duties as requested and expected of me.”
Lee erupts and breaks script. “I can work! You think I can’t pull my own weight, is that what this is about?!”
The orphans explode into a cacophony of hysterics. Their noise only serves in adding wood to stoke Lee’s already flaming indignation.
“What’re you talking to me for? Duyi’s the one who can’t work a broom.”
Han can only stare flat faced.
Lee scowls. As this is his go to resting expression of choice, Han thinks nothing of it. Han can only wait. It works every time because for all of the boy’s many faults, impatience definitely ranks high on that list.
“Okay, fine,” the boy huffs. “I’ll go to this job and do the work needed to do the job because that’s how jobs work.”
Also on that list is the talent for implied insult. The boy thinks Han simple. The boy thinks Han is having the boy state the obvious for Han’s benefit. As if Han has not been raising children for nearly twice as long as the boy’s been alive. As if Han didn’t know how to lead children to the uncomfortable, hard truths they are sure to hate.
“Where is the job with all this work I wouldn’t know to do if no one told me, because apparently I’m an idiot.”
It is of no effort to ignore the small riot at his back, feeding off Lee’s resentment just as easily as they feed into it, as Han’s had literal deccades of practice. Instead he braces himself for the barrage that is sure to come.
“I believe you are familiar with Bo. He has a ship in the harbor and finds himself in need of another deckhand.”
A hush falls over the crowd. The children wait with bated breath, eyes wide open in the hopes to capture every moment of Lee’s no doubt extraordinary reaction to this news.
The boy’s face turns as red as his temper. If he had shown any aptitude for fire bending during the years of his stay, Han would worry for the fence.And the grass. And the tree. And the house. However, excepting for a bizarre incident involving a bonfire and a humming moth that somehow resulted in zero burns, Lee seems to be as null as a person can get.
“That guy is a crook,” Lee is shouting. Still shouting. Continues a litany of disparaging insults.
Han let’s him. Maybe if he gets some of the steam out from his head, Lee will see that is entirely the point. Bo is a crook.
The man is a crook, and a con. Bo could sell matches to a firebender and not only would they thank him for it but they’d part friends. Half because Han’s convinced Bo’s never met a person and not made a friend. He’s just that type.
Bo’s met Lee a few times.
Hate is a strong word, but despise might fit the bill. Bo treats Lee as if he were a well liked kid sibling, as he does with all of the orphans, and one day Lee might actually kill him for it.
Bo’s men are smugglers of goods. They’ve gotten medicine, good medicine, and unspoiled food to the orphanage many times when the traditional lines couldn’t hack it. Bo himself trades not only goods, but information as well. He showed up amongst the crew nearly a year ago knowing a great many things. Things about the war. Things about the Fire Nation. Things about the Fire Nation’s civil war.
Bo is a good man. A young man grown fully into himself. An adult in every sense lacking only the wisdom that comes with age, perhaps, but a good man nonetheless. He simply happens to ...circumvent the law as a means to make a living. He is also a professional gossiper.
If anyone could keep a boy hidden, a boy with unique gold eyes, and a burn scar that could rival any veteran’s, it would be Bo and his merry crew of foul mouthed, friendly misfits. Bo, who seemed always a few steps ahead of blockades and whose own eyes were nearly a match to Lee’s, the honeyed amber found only in one nation.
“I’m going to end up in jail,” Lee seethes.
In his peripheral vision a dark haired cannonball dressed in sunny yellow launches out from the nearby cherry tree in a trajectory aimed straight for Lee. As the adult, Han feels only exhaustion. As the target, Lee appears to feel nothing at all. He snags the shrieking mass from the air with zero aplomb and a glower not much fiercer than it already was.
“Lee’s gunna get awested,” the little girl sing-songs in a lisping, pitchy, giggling shout as she uses her projectile momentum to force Lee into twirling them about.
“Arrested, Rue. It’s arrested.”
The kids start chanting, “Arrested! Arrested!” Rue’s displaying her pleasure with a gap-toothed smile. Lee’s shooting Han a look of obvious malcontent, as if the children were a prophetic chorus in one of the old great tragedies and Han himself is one of the unfortunate protagonists too assured by his own arrogance to take heed.
The situation is very much out of hand.
“Hey Lee, if I get a copy of your wanted poster will you come back and sign it,”one of the boys shouts above the din. The first raindrop of a storm. All the children followed suit. Calling at each other and over each other.
“Think he’ll pull a higher bounty than the Avatar?”
“Don’t be stupid, stupid. No one’s worth more than the Avatar.”
“Yeah! The Avatar’s got a real life princess with him and even she’s got a smaller bounty than him, you dummy.”
“Besides old lady Dandan told me that enemies of the fire nation end up in labor camps.”
“He’s not coming back to sign a poster.”
“I’d come back to sign my poster.”
“As if anyone would waste the paper on your ugly face.”
“Well, old lady Dandan told me that the fire nation puts their enemies in a deep, dark pit.”
“Nuh-uh they ship ’em out to die in the middle of the ocean!”
“They fed ‘em to dragons!”
Old lady Dandan is as bad as the kids.
“Don’t be scare-wed, Wee,” Rue says from her perch in Lee’s arms, struggling around her lisp with gleeful abandon. “If you get awested I’ll save you!”
Lee gives the child a speculative glance.
This does not detour the little girl. She giggles some more, hums a chipper, self assuring, “MmmHmm,” and swings her dangling feet.
The boy shifts to accommodate the movement. “Is that so? What if you get caught?”
Rue laughs in delight as if that were a silly joke. Suddenly, Han is struck with the realization of where Farmer Pan’s eggs have gone to and why their own supply seems to have lasted longer than usual. He pleads to the spirits.
“You so funny, Wee. I’m gunna miss you a whole lot.”
“Yeah?”
“Yup! A lot, a lot!” She throws her arms out to indicate exactly how much, throwing Lee’s balance off and nearly pitching them into the dirt.
“That’s, uh, yeah. That’s a lot.”
“Just don’t get awested wight away. I need to get a swowd if I’m gunna fight a dwagon! And tall! I need to be tall!”
“I think you need to work on your Rs first,” advises the boy. “Your name is Rue. How are you supposed to save me from the Fire Nation if you can’t even pronounce your own name?”
Rue merrily sticks out her tongue.
“Rue, say goodbye,” Han interrupts before proceedings could get more drawn out and protracted than they already were. “It’s time for Lee to go now.”
“Bye bye, Wee!” With that merry announcement Rue strangles Lee’s neck in a hug so close the side of her face smashed against the side of his. Then like an acrobatic duo, the little girl is flipping off as Lee pushes her up, and just like that she’s away. Tucking into a neat single roll before landing on the grass and cartwheeling away.
The other children take that as their signal, shouting goodbyes and well wishes for a very merry arrest in the very near future. Han starts shepherding the boy towards the gate.
“Remember, the avatar’s worth twenty-thousand gold coins!”
“Yeah! Steal him and you’ll be worth at least that much!”
“Bye!”
“That’s not how bounty’s work!”
“Bye, Lee!”
“Don’t worry, Lee! Bo’s not in jail!”
“Yeah! YET.”
“Steal the Avatar and the princess!”
“Yeah! That’ll do it!”
“I’m sure your cell will have a window!”
They make it to the lane when Lee’s ire runs itself dry. His shoulders slump and all the air deflates out, leaving him a mess of unusually poor posture. He kicks a pebble and watches it bounce along down the way.
“Han, you can’t be serious. Bo? There’s no honor in his business.”
For a boy with no memories of life before the orphanage, Lee has very specific notions about very specific concepts. Honor, duty, and perseverance being chief among them.
“Lee, do you remember when you were first brought here?”
Of course he does. Perhaps not in the same manner as Han. Intense pain has a way of dulling the mind, of softening memories into hazy impressions or, in Lee’s case, outright erasure. Though, for all Lee’s forgotten, the agony of traveling with a burn that severe… it will be with that boy the rest of his days.
Han remembers differently. He remembers in crystal clarity the unnatural sky, a fierce storm snuffing out the moon and stars. Rain blowing sideways. He remembers the baffling surprise that travelers found their town, sailors no less, able to make port with unforgiving roiling seas. He remembers dark reds, made darker and heavier by the weight of water, poorly hidden by green cloaks much too short to do the job.
They begged for Han to take the boy. A boy with a face half raw, mind delirious with fever and calling for absent family. They pleaded and promised. As if Han could ever dream of saying no.
The group left everything of value they could, and promised to return.
That was three years ago. No one has come for Lee. Yet.
Soldiers will soon enough. Lee’s of the height to be conscripted into whatever army comes knocking first whether it be for the Earth Kingdom, or one of the Fire Nation’s. With the way things are going, for all Han knows, even a Water Tribe ship could yank the kid out of port.
Once upon a time the idea of the Water Tribe coercing anyone would have been an outlandish thought. Ridiculous. Laughable. Now? Han’s none too sure. The world had already been in a spin with only the one war raging. Then the Fire Lord went off, murdered his first born heir, and things really fell into madness.
They are surrounded by armies in need of soldiers. It’s only a matter of time. The best way to keep Lee safe is for him to leave the orphanage.
“You don’t want that to happen again,” Han nods to Lee’s scar.
The boy pulls a face.
“Bo is a good man, Lee.”
“He’s a shyster! A lout! He has no honor!”
Ugh, again with the honor.
“He- he,” Lee stutters in the face of Han’s indifference. Knowing full well he is making unfounded accusations based on nothing beyond rumors and extreme, fathomless, inexplicable, personal dislike. “He harasses women!”
Han ran a hand down his face. The tidiness would be missed, this tenacity?
Not so much.
“Being a flirt is not a crime, Lee.”
“It’s a crime to my eyes! And my ears. No one wants to see or hear any of that!” Lee fumed and kicked another rock down the trail. “And what about poor Old Lady Dandan? She’s always having to put up with that nonsense.”
It would absolutely be a mistake to laugh, unfortunately Han couldn’t help the snort that left him.
“I can confidently inform you that his advances in that arena are not unwelcome.”
“What!? Ew! Gross!” At that Han does laugh. Lee, like any young man not quite through puberty, looks so affronted at the prospect of two adults with any sort of age disparity showing mutually playful interest. In this case a much younger man and an older woman.
“Lady Dandan is only in her forties.”
Lee sputters and hisses,”that doesn’t make it better.”
What would make it better is explaining that the type of game those two are playing is for nothing more serious than the sake of playing. Two giggling actors without a stage. Nothing will come of it. But Han wasn’t about to say any of that.
The end of the lane came sooner than Han would have liked. He brought Lee to a stop with a hand on one shoulder.
“The choice is entirely yours, Lee. All I can do is give you your options. Do I know everything about Bo? No. But while I may not trust him with my wallet I do trust him with my life. Yours too.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Lee groused, grinding the ball of one foot into the dirt path as he glared at dirt clods. “You haven’t known him that long.”
True, but nearly a year is more than enough and another kettle of fish besides.
“You can tell a lot about a man by those in his employment,” because no doubt about it Bo is in a position of influence,“and I’ve known the men on that ship for quite some time now.”
Lee huffs and kicks at dust.
It takes no real skill to know when a kid is thinking about doing the exact opposite of what you’re telling them. Or, at the least, deciding not to do what you’re telling them in favor of an idea that aligns much more favorably to their own wants.
And they think they’re so sneaky about it too. Ridiculous.
“Do not go to another orphanage,” Han advises feeling his pulse behind his eyes. It’s never easy, this part of letting them go out into the world. Especially so young. “That’s the first place armies look for recruits. In fact, just stay away from cities, towns, even large villages.”
“So it’s go with the criminal or live in a cave? Great.”
“If you end up near an Earth Kingdom army-- keep off the ground. Earth benders can catch you that way “
“What am I supposed to do?! Grow wings and fly?”
“If you do get caught, play up your injuries. No one wants a half blind, half deaf boy mucking things up and making their life more difficult.”
Han actually has no idea how functional the burned side of Lee’s face may be. Lee doesn’t complain. He also refuses any questions, no matter how well intentioned. It was never a hill Han thought worth dying on.
“I’m not going to lie!”
“And if you need to protect yourself, use these.”
It’s taken diligence, paranoia, loose floorboards, and strategic placement of heavy furniture to keep them hidden from little hands attached to poor impulse control, but by spirits Han did it.
He pulls the twin dao out from where he hid them before sunrise that very morning.
“I don’t-“
Han holds zero interest for misplaced gratitude or any sort of denial.
“They’re yours. They came with you; they leave with you.”
Lee takes them with a reverence Han’s never seen before, and a half bow Han’s not sure the boy realizes he bent into.
“You’re a good kid, Lee,” he says because it is true, but because he just can’t help himself he adds,”just remember this one thing. If anyone asks… your eyes are brown.”
“MY EYES ARE BROWN.”
Ah, yes, Lee will be just fine. Spirits bless. One day Lee may even shout that loud enough for people to actually believe him.
Lee’s got a burlap sack of bare essentials, enough food to last him a few weeks if properly rationed, twin dao strapped to his back, a dagger in his hand, and a decision to make.
He stands before a crossroads.
To the left is the winding downward slope of a path that will take him out of the hills and to Bo’s criminal enterprise.
To the right, the post staked in the dirt has plenty to say. There’s an array of signs. Some for places as near as Makapu Village to others as far as Gaoling, but there’s one in particular catching Lee’s eye. It is a tiny little piece of wood tacked onto Serpant’s Pass, tacked onto Great West Lake, tacked onto Gaipan. It is the marker for the city of Ba Sing Se.
The dagger in Lee’s hand, he’s had since before he can remember. While he doesn’t know much he knows the weapon is quality. It’s expensive in all the ways a poor orphan boy can identify without having ever seen anything of its make before. The sleek design. The smoothness of the handle. The sheen of the steel. Not the kind of gift given on a whim. Especially not to a child.
‘Never give up without a fight,’ is inscribed on one side. Whoever gave this to him had to care about him. They had to have. Right? It might have even been family.
On the blade other side, etched near the hilt, are the characters for Ba Sing Se.
Zuko looks at the crossroads.