"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

ooo

His dreams are never peaceful.

It's been eight years since his parents were killed, and still he can see their deaths in his dreams, smell the acrid smoke, hear their terrified screams.

The worst part is always at the end, when the firebender turns his head toward Jet and smiles, a cruel, sadistic smile that he knows will haunt him for the rest of his life.

Tonight is no different.

The scene plays out like it always has: Jet sees the smoke and flame through the trees and comes running, Smellerbee right behind him, and part of him hopes that it's not true, that it's all some elaborate trick and Mom and Dad are still safe and they'll hug him and tell him everything's going to be alrigh-

His thoughts stop short as he turns the corner and sees what remains of his village.

Desperately, he calls for his parents, but they never come. And they never will again.

As the tears roll down his cheeks, one thought burns in his mind like a fiery blast: Someday, they will pay.

ooo

Jet wakes with a start, his heart pounding a million miles a minute, his sheets soaked in sweat. For a second, he thinks he's still in the forest, still fighting, still a Freedom fighter, but then he remembers.

He's on the ferry going to Ba Sing Se. He's not in the forest anymore. The fire can't find him here. They can't hurt him now. He can't hurt anyone now.

He's going to make a fresh start, going to wash away his past just like-

Just like the dam.

Jet rolls over onto his stomach, his body stiff with fatigue. But even as he closes his eyes again, he knows it's futile. He's not going to go back to sleep tonight. He never does.

With a sigh, he pushes himself out of bed and heads out of his meager third-class cabin and into the cool night air.

The deck of the ferry is still and silent at this late hour. It's almost completely dark; the only spots of light are the candle in the window of the guard's house and the cold, distant moon and stars above.

A figure stands in the pooling moonlight, looking out over the railing and to the choppy lake, his back to Jet; but even from this distance he can tell that it's Li.

And he's not wearing a shirt.

Jet wonders where he can find a cool source of water at this hour.

Okay, play it cool, Jet.

He rakes his fingers through his mop of brown hair, puts his best smirk on his face, and steps up to join Li by the railing.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Li's only response is a nod. That was expressive for him, Jet has quickly learned.

"Bad dreams?"

Another nod. "Look, I don't really want to talk about it right now."

"What? Am I not good enough for you?" Jet says, only half joking. We're the same; you and I. We're both so scarred.

"No, it's not like that, " Li continues, his voice sounding more uncomfortable by the second. "It's just… personal."

"The Fire Nation destroyed my life too." The words hang in the cool night air. Jet squeezes his eyes shut as the torrent of painful memories threatens to drown him, the images from his dream still fresh in his mind. There are other scenes too; a village destroyed by a catastrophic flood, the fear in an old woman's eyes as Jet digs his swords into her throat. The Fire Nation isn't the only bad guy here. Jet can see that now. "They left me orphaned and alone. I've had to fight for everything. So trust me, you're not the only one they've hurt."

"I'm sorry," Li says, his voice thick with bitterness and guilt and something else Jet can't quite name.

Jet folds his arms across his chest and leans against the railing, his protective shell back. "Why be? It wasn't your fault."

That's when it happens.

A glowing orb whistles through the air high above them before colliding with the central tower of the ship in a deafening explosion. They're under attack.

Jet has tried to run. But the fire has still managed to find him.

ooo

Well, this is ironic, Zuko thinks. The Fire Nation, firing on their own prince.

He knew this could happen, that many of the naval commanders- especially the more sadistic ones like the deceased Commander Zhao- had a habit of preying on refugee ships, but he never dreamed that his ship would be targeted.

I could die, right here. The banished, scarred, failure of a prince, forced into hiding among Earth Kingdom refugees and killed by his own people. What a cruel joke.

It's just not fair! Why can't something in my life just come easily for once?!

"What the hell are you doing just standing there?! We're under attack!"

Jet's words snap him back to reality and, though he still feels like punching something or burning that something to a crisp, Zuko follows the other boy as they run desperately across the deck of the ship.

I have to find Uncle. We have to get out of here.

As he leaves, he can hear Jet directing the growing throng of refugees to the lifeboats behind him. His eyes scan the crowd, searching for any sign of Uncle Iroh. He isn't there.

Spirits, please let him be safe…

He races to his room, fighting the smoke and flames, and stops short when he sees what awaits him inside the door. His uncle isn't there.

No…

Something hot and wet is pricking at the corners of his good eye and threatening to spill down his cheek. His uncle can't be gone. It's just not possible.

Sick with worry, Zuko turns and runs, not even bothering to push the flames away. He tries to tell himself that everything will be fine, but it's been three years since he last believed everything would be fine and he can't think anyway because the smoke surrounding him is heavy and hot, a ghoul trying to steal the breath from his lungs.

He can't breathe. And the first lesson of firebending is every flame needs to breathe. Or they die. Simple as that.

I can't breathe. I can't bend. I'm going to die. I don't want to die. Not like this. Not now. Please. I can't die like this. No… I can't breathe Ican'tbreatheIcan'tBREATHE…

Zuko squeezes his eyes shut as the torrent of panic threatens to overwhelm him. He can't die like this. He won't.

Never give up without a fight.

Wherever you are, Uncle, I hope I made you proud.

He takes off at a dead run through the bowels of the ship, down hallways laced with flame like fiery tapestries. His lungs scream for air. Time is running short. If he can't find an exit soon…

As Zuko turns the corner, he almost runs straight into a door. It's on fire, just like practically everything on the ship at the moment. But it's what he sees through the narrow peephole in the door that catches his attention.

Sky.

The deck of the ship lies just beyond the door. He's finally found a way out. He's safe. He's going to live after all.

Zuko reaches for the doorknob, choking back a scream as his hands touch the hot metal, and gives it a turn.

Nothing happens. The door is locked.

Agni, why do these things always happen to me?! Features tight with frustration, Zuko slams his fist into the door and is rewarded with a sharp, scalding pain as hot splinters lodge themselves in his knuckles. This time he doesn't hold back his scream.

Wait.

Through the pain, his mind manages to wrap around one small hope: the wood gave. When he punched it, he felt it buckle under his hand. If he could break the door down…

Zuko glances back down the hallway. He'll never survive long enough to find another exit, he knows. His lungs are screaming for air, he feels dizzy and can only barely stand, and black spots dance in front of his eyes, threatening to drown him in their depths. It's now or never.

With the last of his strength, Zuko breathes as deeply as he can in the tight, smoke-choked space, feels the energy surge through his chi, and pushes.

The flame responds, parting to reveal the charred wood beneath. Zuko throws himself against the door with all his might, begging the spirits to just grant him this, just once-

Nothing.

He tries again, harder this time. He can't afford to lose now.

The door gives way, and as Zuko staggers out onto the deck of the ferry, so does his strength. The young prince passes out and crumples to the burning deck in a heap, literally in his element.

ooo

The smoke hangs hot and acrid in the air, and all Jet can see is his village burning.

Over the years, he's learned to take the fear that fills him with he smell of smoke and channel it into anger, to never break , never show it, always stay strong, but somewhere inside him is still that eight-year=old boy, newly orphaned and lost in the flames.

These people are innocent, just refugees- why would they do something like this?

"Aannd… that's everyone," Smellerbee calls across the deck of the ship. " C'mon, Jet, let's go. It won't be long now until the whole ship sinks."

Jet nods his assent and begins to run across the deck of the ship- now tilting crazily- but before he can reach her, he spots a crumpled figure lying amidst the flames.

As he gets closer, he can see that it's Li.

Jet swallows hard and kneels down beside the unconscious boy. To his relief, he can tell that Li isn't seriously injured. He has some minor burns but nothing to serious- it looks like he merely passed out from smoke inhalation.

And of course, there's that scar- that scar that first told Jet of a kindred spirit, someone who's suffered the same way he has, someone whose dreams were haunted the same way Jet's were. Someone who knew what it was to burn. Someone who could understand.

Jet reaches out and runs his fingers over Li's scar, feeling the way the flesh pulled tight across the other boy's cheekbone and the contrast between his scarred and unscarred skin, so incredibly sharp. The Fire Nation hurt you, too, he thinks. They hurt all of us.

Not for the first time since the attack began, Jet feels the familiar rage welling up inside him, the rage that has guarded him through half his life. After the dam, he's tried to put his hate behind him; but on nights like this, with the fire so close at hand, he wonders if he was wrong to ever let it go.

"Is he…" As she comes up behind them, Smellerbee can't quite bring herself to answer the question. Behind her stands Longshot, his face graver than usual.

"He'll be fine," Jet answers. "Just breathed in too much smoke. We need to get him to the lifeboats. The ship's almost gone."

Jet stands, Li heavy and limp in his arms, and the quartet of Freedom Fighters starts running across the deck towards the lifeboats. It's slow going, however; the smoke around them is hot and suffocating, like they're drowning in fire, and by this point the slope of the deck is almost to steep to walk across.

But Jet's never been one to give up easily and neither has Smellerbee or Longshot; so they keep running, battling the flames until they're nearly at the lifeboats. Nearly to safety.

But not close enough.

For in that moment, the ship rocks violently to one side, sending Jet and the others sliding towards the water. Smellerbee and Longshot manage to grab onto fragments of wood sticking out of the deck, and by some miracle, the boards support their weight.

Jet isn't so lucky.

Still holding Li, he has no choice but to tumble down the deck, through the railing and into the empty air.

The last thing he hears before he hits the water is Smellerbee's desperate cry of "Jet!"

Then he hits the water with a shocking slap that sets his nerves alight and makes every inch of him sting. But he's got bigger problems.

The water is cold and insistent, pulling him down into his icy depths. Jet's a fairly good swimmer but he's never dealt with waves like this, where the water surges with a strength all of its own and the whitecaps break over his head.

The water closes over him.

No! Fighting through the waves and his own panic, Jet kicks and claws his way to the surface and takes in a shuddering, gasping lungful of air.

It's funny, really; he always took air for granted before, but now, he has to fight the water for every breath.

As his head breaks the surface again, he can see someone floating among the charred wreckage, very still.

The scar on his face tells Jet all he needs to know.

No. Not him.

Jet splashes his way over to Li who is fortunately not dead, but he's semiconscious and has breathed far too much water already and really can't swim on his own by this point; so Jet wraps his arms around him and tries to stay afloat for both of them, but he can't.

He's already tiring, every muscle in his body aching as he fights his losing battle against the waves. Li's mostly deadweight, and Jet thought swimming for one person was hard. If he can't find something to hold onto soon, they'll both drown. Together.

Not how I thought I'd die. I always imagined that I'd take a few more Fire Nation bastards with me.

Jet turns his head to see a piece of debris floating in the water just a few strokes away from him. And not just any piece of debris- this one's the size of those big earth coins and shaped much the same way.

That'll do.

Even though it can't be more then ten feet, it's still an almost impossible swim. The icy water saps his strength at every move he makes. He can already feel himself growing cold.

You can do this. You need to live. Can't go down without making them pay for this.

An idea flashes through his mind: his swords. They're weighing him down. If he could just get rid of them…

No.

His hookswords belonged to his father. They're the only things Jet has left. He'd never give them up. Not ever.

But if it's between that and drowning…

The water closes over his head again and the choice is made for him.

I'm sorry, Dad.

He reaches an arm over his back, detaches his swords, and watches as the last remnants of a happier life sink away.

Refusing to take a moment to grieve, Jet struggles his way over to their makeshift raft and, with a lot of thrashing and cursing, manages to haul himself and Li onto it. As Li manages to provide an impressive display of coughing up lake water, Jet turns to look at what remains of the ship.

It really isn't much of a ship at this point; the wreck has flipped completely on its side and is utterly engulfed in flames like a dying phoenix. As Jet watches, the ferry, once so great, slips beneath the waves in a cloud of steam, leaving only a scattering of debris across the water's surface.

An object bobs into his line of sight: a ragdoll in a singed pale green dress, her black yarn hair floating around her face. There are a thousand possible fates as to what happened to her owner and Jet knows none of them are pleasant.

Might be dead, killed by smoke or by fire. Or she could have drowned. Or, if she's alive, she's probably in the same situation we are; no food, no water, and no way to get help.

Well, shit, Jet thinks as the enormity of their situation hits him. But he'll survive. He has to.

Because someone needs to pay for what happened tonight. I was wrong to try and give up my hate. I can see that now.

And maybe Li can help him fight. Or just help him in general.

Jet supposes time will tell.