AN- This story might be difficult to wrap your head around at first; there's a lot of information but it's not served to you, more just slid in there and you have to make sense of it. If you don't like that, then the second chapter should clear things up so don't leave just yet.

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"No work today, Lee." The man stands back, watching him as he leaned over the golden pond. "Not with the cargo passing through. It just… doesn't feel right, y'know?"

He just hums in reply, watching the turtleducks float past.

"Just- just… it's just something like this happens and… and the least we can do is not act like everything's normal, right?"

"I'm your employee, Shen, you don't have anything to prove to me."

"It's just, everything's so messed up, and I wanna say something about it!" His boss drops by him in the reeds. "My wife says I'll get arrested if I don't shut my mouth."

He snorts. "She'd be right, if we weren't so far south. The higher ups don't waste their time disciplining this place."

"And tomorrow that ship comes here, and who knows what they'll do to us. Lee… Lee I need your advice."

"What a wise decision."

"Stop foolin'. All these years and you've never let me down, 'cept when you wanted to. For the laughs."

"And you say I don't have a sense of humor."

"Lee, listen… I hate this. Hate it. Hate knowin' my taxes go up to those madmen. And it's been alright with us here, but-but what about the other places all up in flames, torn apart. All those children, and not just the children, everyone, can you imagine? I wanna do somethin'" He threw a stone into the water's face, and the turtleducks scattered. "I should'a joined the rebellion."

The waiter didn't grace him with a reply, instead throws bread crumbs for the birds.

"If the Prince just went a little more to the right during the Pole-to-Pole March, well, I wouldn't be feeling so worthless."

"You'd probably be dead. Just like he is."

"Still don't get why you're so…gloomy about 'im. I mean you fought for 'im, didn't cha?"

He turned away from the water. "What do you want me to say? You can wish all you want that you fought, but you didn't. And even if you did, what would it change? Your feeling of worth? The rebellion failed, Shen. If you want to do something about it then go, don't sit here talking to me because I'll be sleeping in my house when the Avatar gets paraded down to his jail cell."

"Bah! Can't get through your thick skull at all!" He stands, too fast, and wobbles a bit. "Maybe… maybe I will do somethin'."

"Oh, what? Close the teashop because that's the 'least you could do'? Cry me a river."

"You keep that up, sir, and you'll be outta a job!" The waiter hums again, and casts more crumbs into the water.

The man sobered, knowing his employee wouldn't pay any heed to anger. "…Still don't know why you waste your bread on those birds. You need it more than they do."

He expected the cold shoulder he was given. "Y'know, if you cleaned up a bit, you'd probably be married by now. If you wanted to be more than a busboy you'd be able to do real nice."

"And if you wanted to do more than mope, you'd do pretty well yourself."

"I would, wouldn't I? Well, One-eye, maybe I'll try it." A ring of keys hits the waterbed besides the man. "Lock up the shop for me, will ya?"

You could see the young man freeze if only for a second.

"Thanks. Try not to stay out to late, don't wanna be caught out tonight, Lee. Have a good one." Shen walks off, footsteps echoing in the early air.

The shop's already locked, but he'd expected that. A walk down the streets reminded him why he had settled here of all places: nondescript, out of the way, and with seldom a Fire Nation patrol in the streets. And he'd never been here before, which meant no one could recognize him on sight.

As he walks through the front of his wedge of apartments, he calls out a greeting, knowing the children a floor under him would be hurrying to school now, or maybe the man with the wispy beard would be enjoying his early cup of jasmine in the lobby.

No one answers. It seemed everyone was following Shen's train of thought, because acting like everything's not okay was enough to them. He considered it alike to a group of people watching from the stands as a woman gets robbed, shaking their heads and clicking their tongues in distaste, words like "I can't believe it" and "now that's just plain wrong" and of course, "someone oughta do something about this" but none of them stepping up and helping.

Well, you're not doing anything either. His mind tells him. What right do you have to say that?

He smacks lips dryly, as he brews a handful of stale leaves into a manageable tea. He didn't know whether uncle would have been proud or mortified of his skill in creating a satisfactory drink out of week old tea leaves and tap water.

He contends his earlier thoughts. At least I'm not being hypocritical. I act like everything's normal because I'm not expecting anything to happen.

Coward.

On his way down the stairs, he sees one of the children poke her head out of a door. He waves at her, but the girl continues to act as if she were handling military grade information; scanning the halls, holding a hand to the side of her mouth and speaking in whispers. Loud whispers, but she was still a child.

"Psst! Momma says we should all stay inside. She says the Fire Nation's coming." Her eyes sparkle, as if the idea thrilled her.

He scratches the back of his neck. He was never good with children, social children made him perplexed. "Well… we are a Fire Nation colony. No big deal, right?"

"Humph. But they've got the Avatar. Haven't you heard the stories? I think the Avatar could kick all those soldiers' butts and then I could go to the North Pole see a polar bear-dog!"

"A polar bear-dog?" He remembered those as being bothersome, shedding everywhere.

"Yeah! I want one! But first the Avatar needs to beat up the Fire Nation… Mr. Lee, why doesn't the Avatar just use his bending and escape?"

His tea was getting cold. "I don't know, miss. Maybe he's tied up."

"But if he wasn't then he could use his bending, right?"

"Right."

She think about this, the deep inquiry visually present on her face. "Mr. Lee could you go and untie the Avatar so I can get my polar bear-dog?"

He raises an eyebrow at her request and unwittingly reels back. "…Maybe it's time for you to go back inside."

"Will you?"

"It's not that simple. Now what did your mother tell you?" He felt like one of the salty old men who would yell at kids to get off their lawn.

"…We should all stay inside."

"Right, now listen to her."

"Yes, sir." She closes the door reluctantly. He continues down the stairs and drags a chair out onto the porch.

Hypocrite. No, I'm not a hypocrite, just a coward.

His attempts at people-watching fail. There weren't many people to watch; just a few who were late to the party, surprised when they saw the majority of the stores closed, traders with their ostrich-horses padding through desolate streets, and an old man setting up his cart. Seeing that his wares consisted of mostly festival items, he didn't make much of a profit. He buys a fan decorated with craneflies from him.

I have as much obligation to save anyone as that man over there.

He fans away the midday heat, lazily. And from the looks of it he doesn't have anything weighing his conscience. I've already done my part, I failed, but I did my part. I'm no hero. I'm happy here and I'm not throwing away my life again.

He slants his broad brimmed hat to cover his face, as a traveler strode onto the path.

The Avatar never came to save me, why should I save him?

Eventually he falls into dreams, assuring himself the faster this day goes the better. But dreams were no reprieve today. It's the same one he had years ago, the dream recreating the memory from even more years back, when he was just a child. When he wakes up, he almost expects the village to be up in flames again.

He's running on instinct, emotion, with reason left on his lonely porch. He buy a blue and white theater mask from the cart and leaves his savings at the blacksmith's to make up for the swords he would find missing tomorrow.

You're no hero. But the people need one. The voices from his dream rumble in his mind, his own sounding unforgivably weak. It fuels him with anger, but there's still that biting doubt that he's throwing away his last chance of a peaceful life. And what if it failed, again?

Then you die trying.

The sight of the iron steamer against the red horizon is both familiar, and completely out of place.

He finds the dagger in his room, under the burned and torn red robes he had stuffed into the closet that he hadn't had the heart to get rid of. He packs them into a bag as well.

The Avatar's late, years late. But what can we do about that now?

He slips into the dark garb, and waits until the sky matches. He swings his legs across the balcony railing.

I'll do what I can.

Letting go of his hold, the space between his feet and the faithful, dusty road lessens. Zuko hits the ground running.

There's the big buffoon. Spirits, why'd he stand there? You could see his shadow around the corner. He drops down and Shen almost gives away their position and nearly socks his head with a metal pole.

"Lee?" It's muffled by the hand covering his mouth.

"Quiet." He could almost hear the frantic beating of the man's heart.

"Lee." The words are part disbelief, part fear and layered in uncontained relief. He takes the steel pipe away from his hands and grips his shoulders.

"Go home, boss. Your kid was getting worried." The shuffling of the ship's crew sounded in the distance; of wagon wheels and men's rumbling voices and shackles clattering. He passes the keys back into the man's broad hands. "Go home."

Shen can only stand in awe, then the noise loudens. He takes his hands firmly, and smiles.

"All these years," the tenderness in his eyes remind him of uncle, almost, "And you've still never let me down."