Update: Mar 15, 2015

Firestarter

Inspired by the novel by Stephen King.

Avatar the Last Airbender characters are property of Nickelodeon.

Zuko

July 19th, 1998

Dr. Long Feng stood in the centre of a small, sparsely furnished room, waiting to receive his charge. He wanted to sit, but the room contained only one chair, barely large enough to accommodate a child. Even if it had been large enough, Long Feng would not have used it. With cloth restraints attached to both its arms and legs, it seemed unwelcoming even to him.

The doctor considered leaning on the low, stainless steel table in the centre of the room, but dismissed the idea. Most of the available surface was occupied by a metal tray, heavily laden with wood chips, and Long Feng had nowhere else to put it. And he didn't want to put it on the floor – he'd have to bend over, and it felt strange to do so, knowing that he was being watched, but not from where. The observation staff would be in the room next door, one the other side of the one-way glass that covered the leftmost wall.

Appearances were important.

The door opened, and a young boy with pale skin and yellow eyes entered the room. Long Feng knew him to be seven years old, but the child was small for his age; too short and too thin.

Three grown men, all dressed immaculately in business suits, filed into the room behind him. Without looking at them, the child crossed the room to the chair and sat down, drawing his feet underneath him to sit cross-legged.

Watching as one of the other men wordlessly lifted the boy up from the seat by his armpits, Long Feng remembered the term that one of his co-workers had used to describe this sort of behaviour: passive resistance. The boy didn't put up a fight, but he was limp and unhelpful as the second man took hold of his legs and pulled them out from underneath him. Once the child was seated properly, with his feet on the floor, the second man proceeded to strap the boy's ankles to the base of the chair with cloth restraints. (Flame retardant, Long Feng knew.) They left his hands and arms free.

Once the child's legs were secure, they all left the way they had come, closing the door behind them and sealing the doctor and the boy inside.

"Zuko-"

"I want to see my dad." The boy said – for what must have been the thousandth time. It had been, without fail, the first thing out of his mouth each time he and the doctor encountered each other for the past month, and he repeated it at every given opportunity, as if it were a very important piece of news that it would benefit everyone to hear.

"I think you're forgetting which one of us is the adult here." The doctor told him, irritation creeping into his voice.

"You're not the boss of me." Zuko told him, with significantly more lofty contempt than any seven year ought to be able to muster.

Even after almost a month of enduring such childish behaviour, Long Feng still did not know how to counter it. He was a physicist, not a psychologist. Not that any of the behavioural therapists on staff had been of any use, so far.

"You know," he said, using the friendliest tone he could manage, "I gave your sister a Playstation yesterday, for being a good girl. Wouldn't you like a Playstation?"

It was true. The younger girl had been easy to handle; she liked participating in Long Feng's experiments – showing off what she could do. As long as she was rewarded afterward.

Zuko scowled, staring down at his sneakers in silence. The soles were still white and remarkably clean.

Suppressing a deep sigh, Long Feng did the same thing that he had done once a day, everyday, since Zuko had arrived at the facility. He pointed at the tray of woodchips on the table and instructed the boy to light it on fire.

Usually Zuko would refuse, or pretend that he didn't know what he was being asked to do, or simply wait in silence until he was left alone with a degree of patience that was entirely unnatural in a boy his age. Today he looked down at the tray uncertainly, then back at Long Feng.

"I guess I could do that," he said.

The simple response took the doctor off-guard. He cast a quick glance to his left, at his own reflection, wondering what the observers made of this new behaviour. He could imagine them eagerly leaning forward in their chairs, believing that they had finally made a breakthrough. The doctor returned his gaze to the boy in the chair, regarding him suspiciously. After all this time, did he dare hope?

A twitch at the corner of his charge's lips told him the answer before it came. Zuko said, "Can I have a match?"

Long Feng did not allow himself to sigh, or give any sign of his irritation. Shouting didn't help, he knew that. The man's shouting had lost its effect on the child weeks ago. One look at Zuko's self-satisfied grin, however, was enough to drive the knowledge right out of his mind.

Instead of acting on his instincts, Long Feng kept his fists balled up in the pockets of his white coat, took a deep breath, and reminded himself of the progress they had made with the boy's sister. Azula's regular displays of electrokinesis had convinced the investors that the children's abilities were real, so he wouldn't have to put up with this for much longer. Another few weeks of this and management would be listening to his recommendations. They would drop the consultants, forget this humanistic charade and recommend a more direct method of securing the boy's cooperation. He would be in control.

Until then, he had to stay professional.

"So," Zuko started in a conversational tone, "when can I see my dad?"

"You can't see him now."

"Why not?"

"Make a fire, Zuko." Long Feng's voice was firm and authoritative, but he knew it didn't matter. Zuko wasn't going to do what he asked him to. He was just going through the motions until he had permission to change tactics.

"Why won't you let me see my dad?"

In spite of himself, Long Feng felt a familiar tension building between his shoulder blades. It was starting. The routine that had been slowly surely wearing away at Long Feng's nerves for weeks now. The doctor imagined himself knocking the wind out of Zuko's lungs in the midst of one of his ridiculous demands. The thought made him conscious of his hands, slick with perspiration, still clenched inside his pockets.

"Because. Do what I asked you to."

"But I want to see my dad."

Long Feng did not respond, and removed one hand from his coat to rub at his temples. God, but Zuko knew how to give him a headache.

"I want to see my dad."

The boy's voice was picking up volume and becoming more insistent. Long Feng knew that the boy didn't really expect to be reunited with his father and that the entire purpose of this production was to wear at the doctor's nerves, but that didn't stop it from working.

"I want to see my dad!"

Pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose, Long Feng reached the conclusion that his headache was rapidly escalating into a full-scale migraine.

"Hey!" Zuko slammed his hands into the table, knocking the tray of woodchips off the table and scattering its contents across the floor. "I'm talking to you, old man! I SAID I WANT TO SEE MY DAD!"

"Would you just-

"I WANT TO SEE MY DAD! I WANT-

If the child got any louder, Long Feng was certain that his ears would start bleeding. He could feel the last, tattered remains of his restraint finally giving way, bent under the weight of the frustration that had been building up for weeks.

"Zuko. Stop it."

But the little boy wasn't stopping. He was throwing a tantrum. Long Feng crossed the room, and grasped the boy by the shoulders with a rough jerk. It was enough to scare him – shut him up – but not to hurt. He was still in control.

"Listen, you little shit," he said in a low voice, leaning in close. He didn't know if the observers could hear him at this level or not. "If you don't shut up-

Dimly Long Fang heard the door opening behind him.

Zuko remembered himself at the same time that Long Feng did, and turned towards the small woman at the door.

"I want. My dad," he said, his stubbornness renewed.

"Doctor, I think that's enough for today."

"I want-"

"Zuko. Your father is dead."

The kid looked like he'd just been kicked in the stomach. For one brief moment, Long Feng felt more satisfaction than he had in almost a month. And then he noticed the hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head and saw, for the first time, the assistant who had been trying to get his attention standing behind him with her mouth hanging open. She looked almost as surprised as the child did.

He'd been warned not to let the boy know what had become of his father, as it was sure to make the boy even less willing to use his ability. He was going to be written up at least, maybe fired. Maybe worse. A man of Long Feng's profession could not afford to make mistakes.

"Liar!" said Zuko, finding his voice. "You're lying!"

Dr. Long Feng considered taking back his words, but it was useless and the last thing he felt like doing was reassuring the insufferable little brat that his last great hope was still alive. Instead, he turned his back on the boy and left the room before he could lose his temper again.

Zuko shot to his feet, but his ankles were strapped to the chair and the chair was bolted securely to the floor.

"If I burn something it'll be you!" he yelled at the open doorway. "I HATE YOU! I SHOULD KILL YOU!"

The boy had threatened to burn him before, but he'd never gone through with it. The two of them had reached a stalemate, and it went both ways.

Long Feng couldn't bring himself to care. He had Azula under his thumb. He was in control.