Chapter 1

Zuko glared at the concrete slabs beneath his feet. The heat of the early summer was already unbearable and Zuko's long dark jeans weren't helping matters. Around him, people passed, but he didn't give them more than a passing glance. He just wanted to be home, in the comfort of his room, ignoring the homework he would inevitably stay up all night finishing. Zuko scowled at that thought and walked a bit faster when he saw the gleaming sky rise where lived. He went into the lobby greeted the doorman with an unintelligible grunt. He dove for the elevator and pressed the button to the penthouse where his family lived.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the doors slid shut and the elevator rose quickly to the top floor. A few minutes later, the doors opened again onto Zuko's floor. The penthouse was the only apartment on the floor and the hallway leading to the door was long, narrow, and minimally decorated. The door itself was a dark ebony color at the end of the crimson and cream passage. Zuko had to suppress a shudder when the elevator doors closed behind him. He felt like a prisoner marching to his cell…or execution. But, like so many days before, he shook the feeling off and went over his list homework assignments in his head.

When he got to his room, Zuko spread his work out neatly in front of him; four piles for each class. There was little actual work to do, but Zuko planned to spend the evening going over notes and studying for an upcoming economics test. Zuko hesitated for a moment, not sure where he wanted to start. Finally he picked up his World Myths and Legends text book and opened to the assigned reading. The class was the least important to his business major, but the most interesting of the semester. Zuko picked it on a whim as his elective. The fact that it irritated his father was just a bonus.

The reading for the day was a legend that had existed for thousands of years, about people who could control the elements of earth, fire, water and air using what would become modern martial arts. Zuko and his sister were both well trained in the form that was associated with fire bending. According to the legend, the different countries of the world had split based around the elements of the masters, or benders- as they were called- and that was the supposed origin of the different nations. Zuko scoffed at that. His theory was that the names of the countries was the responsibility of some unimaginative bureaucrats a few centuries ago. He only needed to step outside of his air conditioned apartment building to know why this was called the Fire Nation. The chapter explained that folk history claims that the ability to manipulate the elements was mysteriously and suddenly lost about five hundred years ago. Zuko continued reading the rest of the chapter and made his notes before he moved on to the next assignment.

A knock at the door pulled Zuko out of his work. He was still the only one home. He decided to ignore whoever was at the door and went back to his work. A few moments later there was another knock. And another one a few moments after that. Finally, Zuko gave up and went to go see who was there. He opened the door just in time to see the elevator doors shut, but not to see who was in it. Zuko turned to go back inside, when something caught his eye. In front of the door was a package. The doorman or some other custodial worker must have delivered it, since Zuko's father wasn't one to regularly check the front desk for packages. Zuko picked it up and saw that it was addressed to him, from his uncle. He studied the box intrigued. His uncle was an archeologist and always sent him the most interesting things.

Once he was inside, Zuko rushed to his room with the box tucked securely under his arm and placed it on his desk. He laid he book bag neatly beside his bed and opened up the box. Inside there was another package tucked into packing foam with a letter lying on top. Zuko opened that first. It was a short letter and Zuko scanned his uncle's neat writing quickly.

Dear Nephew,

I hope all is well at home. I miss you terribly, but the adventure of a new dig is, as always, a soothing balm for my heart- Zuko snorted at his uncle's sentimentality, and continued reading. I found this on a dig near Ba Sing Se. It isn't worth much to the museums and universities I work with, but I thought it was a delightful little trinket. I want you to have it. Sorry, I didn't have a chance to clean it first, but who knows when I would have been able to send it otherwise. I will be back home in a few months.

Yours,

Uncle Iroh

Zuko put the letter carefully back into its envelope and tucked it away in his desk. The he pulled out the package, which was wrapped in plain brown paper and twine. Zuko ripped the string and paper off and found inside the box, a small clay pot with a lid. It was, as his uncle had warned him, quite dirty, but beneath the greyish brown dirt, Zuko could see that the pot was stained red with a white floral design. Zuko scratched off some of the dirt with his thumbnail before grabbing a tee shirt out of his hamper to wipe the rest of it off with. There was a strange, dank smell that he stirred up with the action, but it wasn't altogether unpleasant; just old.

"Thank you!" Zuko spun around quickly and found a strange girl standing behind him. "You would not believe how difficult it is to be trapped in there for so long." Zuko dropped the pot and reached for the first weapon he could find; a large umbrella that he kept near his door.

"Who are you?" he demanded. The girl ignored him and dove for the pot. The soft carpet on his floor had kept it from any serious damage, but the girl looked at him agitatedly.

"Be careful with this!" she scolded him, scooping up the pot and lid in her hands. "Honestly! What would I have done if it had broken?"

"Who are you?" Zuko asked once more, this time more confused than angry. The girl stood up and bowed slightly.

"I am the djinn that sleeps in the-er-pot," she informed him. Zuko studied the girl before him, taking in her odd appearance. She was dark, like the inhabitants of the Northern and Southern poles, but she was dressed in a blue gi that hadn't been worn by either nation for at least a couple of centuries. Her long brown hair was in a single braid down her back and she had to weird looking loops framing her face. She seemed to be around Zuko's age; maybe a year or two younger. She didn't seem to find it at all odd that she had come into his home unannounced, something that shouldn't have even been possible with the level of security his father paid for. The only logical conclusion he could arrive at was that the girl was either deranged, or someone come to kidnap him for ransom. Zuko frowned and looked her over again. She didn't appear to be armed and he was fairly certain he could take the much smaller girl in a fight. She couldn't have been a kidnapper- but, Zuko thought, you could never be too careful.

He swung at her with the umbrella. The girl jumped back just in time and looked at him indignantly.

"Now you wait just a minute," she said angrily. "I will not be treated like-" Zuko took another swing at her, but this time, instead of jumping out of the way, the girl disappeared. Zuko stared at the spot where she had been standing in shock.

"Di-did that just-" he stuttered out loud. He looked around the room wildly, suspecting some sort of trick, but he was alone in the room. There was no sign that the girl had even been there. Zuko threw the umbrella aside and rushed into the bathroom. He clung tightly to the marble edges of the sink. After a few moments, he turned on the water and splashed cool water on his face and neck.

"This is just some crazy dream," Zuko muttered. He looked up into the mirror and stared into the mirror at his own face to try to ground himself in reality. He was his own normal reflection. Dark hair. Amber eyes. An angry red scar covering half of his face. Everything was normal. He took a deep breath. "It was just a dream. I didn't see that."

"But you aren't asleep." Zuko turned around and hit his back painfully against the sink. The blue clad young woman sat on the back of the toilet and watched him amusedly.

"You aren't real!" Zuko said forcefully. The girl blinked before she smiled slyly at him.

"So what you're saying is," she said, putting a hand thoughtfully on her chin, "is that I'm in your head and you're going crazy."

"N-no," Zuko backtracked quickly. "I'm sleeping and you're some sort of bizarre dream brought on by too much junk food." The girl frowned at him for a long moment, and then, faster than Zuko could see, she reached out and pinched him hard on the arm. Zuko cried in pain and cradled his arm to him.

"Well, I'm still here," the girl said. "So I can't be a dream. So all that remains is that you're crazy or I'm really here." Zuko stared at her silently. She was right, and he was unwilling to believe that he was going crazy.

"Who are you?" he asked her at last. The girl hopped off of the toilet and stood up as tall as she could-which was still nearly a head shorter than Zuko- and looked at him dead in the eye.

"My name is Katara," she said proudly. "I am a djinn."

"….A what?" Zuko asked. He stared at her confusedly. Katara rolled her eyes and shook her head, and she explained slowly as if she were speaking to a simpleton.

"I am a djinn. A spirit. More specifically, I am a wishbringer." Realization dawned on Zuko's face.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "A djinn! Like a genie, right?" Katara made a face at the word, but nodded.

"Sure," she said. "Go with that."

"Prove it," Zuko challenged, crossing his arms.

"Prove it?" Katara's mouth fell open. "I just appeared out of thin air. Prove it?" Zuko nodded with a defiant smirk. "Fine."

She straightened up and moved a little away from Zuko. She held her arms out and her blue eyes took on an ethereal glow. A phantom wind blew the bathroom door open, the cabinet behind the mirror began to slam open and shut. Katara's braid came undone and her hair blew around her wildly. Her feet slowly left the ground and she levitated the four feet to the ceiling.

"I am Katara of the Djinn," she said in an otherworldly voice. It echoed through the tiled bathroom and Zuko held his hands to his ears. "I am more powerful than you can imagine. I can give you all of you wildest dreams, but it comes at a cost. Beware of thoughtless wishes and vain pursuits, Zuko, or they will be your end!"

Zuko screwed his eyes shut as a blinding light filled the bathroom for an instant and then faded. When Zuko opened his eyes, Katara was once again perched on the back of the toilet, her hair once more in its tidy braid with the weird looking loops framing her face. She was looking at him with a small, innocent smile playing on her lips. Zuko's frightened gaze made her smile wider.

"I think I believe you," he managed to whisper.

"Good!" Katara said, surprisingly chipper. "That makes this a lot easier. I'm sure you have some questions for me."

"Um…" Zuko looked around them awkwardly. "Can we do this in the living room?" Katara followed his gaze confusedly but shrugged and stood up.

"As you wish," she said. Zuko's eyes widened.

"Wait, does this count as a wish?" he asked her. Katara looked at him over her shoulder and snorted disdainfully, but left without another word. Zuko didn't ask again. Katara lead the way out into the living room and sat on the plush suede couch. She looked out of the high rise apartment's picture windows at the city lights below, impressed.

"Well, I'm sure riches won't be your first wish," she commented. Katara looked over at Zuko who was still standing awkwardly in the doorway of the living room. She raised an eyebrow at him and patted the couch next to her. "Have a seat."

Zuko walked over stiffly and sat at the other end of the couch. Katara swung around to face him, pulling up her knees and resting her chin on them. Zuko was suddenly struck by the fact that he was alone with a very attractive girl. It wasn't a situation he was used to. He cleared his throat nervously and tried to appear calm.

"Um…"he started. Katara looked at him expectantly. "So how does this work? Do I get the three wish deal?" Katara shook her head vigorously.

"No," she explained. "That's a lower level djinn. I'm more powerful than that. I can grant you fifteen wishes." She took another look around the lavish room.

"Fifteen?" Zuko asked incredulously. Katara nodded solemnly.

"There are some restrictions," she said. "I can't make people fall in love with you, or hate you or manipulate their emotions. I can't kill anyone and I can't bring anyone back from the dead. I can, however, make the sick better, heal injuries, and so on."

"Ok."

"I also can't make something from nothing." When Katara saw Zuko looking at her in confusion, she explained, "If you ask for something if has to come from somewhere. Money, clothes, cars, et cetera, have to come from somewhere. That mostly won't affect you though, unless you ask for something rare or really big. It will come up stolen if it's too important."

Zuko sat silently, considering everything Katara had said. He looked up to ask her another question, but he heard the front door of the penthouse apartment open and a few moments later Azula, his younger sister walked into the living room. Zuko blanched and stared at her, unsure of how to explain the strangely dressed girl on their sofa. Azula was silent for a few seconds, before her delicate mouth curled up into a cruel smirk.

This was it, Zuko thought. Azula would surely realize something was up. Zuko had to suppress a shudder at the thought of what Azula would do if she found out that Katara was a living, breathing, honest to goodness genie-er, djinn. He racked his mind for a plausible explanation for the exotic looking, oddly dressed girl, but Azula spoke before he could find one.

"Don't tell me my brother has finally found someone not absolutely disgusted by the sight of him," she said, sneering at him. "Did you have to pay her?" Zuko was about to retort, but Katara beat him to the punch. She got off the couch and went over to shake Azula's hand. To Zuko's immense surprise, instead of the blue gi she had been wearing a second ago, she was in normal looking jeans and a light blue sweater.

"I'm Katara," she introduced herself. Azula gave her a halfhearted hand shake, as if she were hesitant for even that much contact with the girl. "I'm your new neighbor. I live downstairs."

"I see," Azula said, disinterestedly. She folded her arms and looked past Katara to Zuko who was still gaping at Katara from the couch. "Close your mouth. You look more Neanderthal than normal. Dad called. He's going to be home late. I'm going out. You're on your own for dinner." She left without waiting for a reply. A moment later the front door closed again. Katara turned back to Zuko, frowning.

"She's…pleasant," she said, without much conviction. Zuko laughed mirthlessly.

"She's a psychotic sociopath," he said. "How did your clothes change?" Katara raised an eyebrow and her clothes ripped, turning back into the blue gi.

"I haven't been back in the world for too long, but I assume this is no longer how people dress, correct?" Zuko nodded dumbly and Katara changed her clothes back. "I'm supposed to be a secret. It'll be easier if I blend in. Djinn have an innate knack for blending."

Katara sat back on the couch and curled her legs back up as she stared at Zuko curiously.

"Tell me about yourself," she ordered more than asked.

"Um…I guess you already know I'm Zuko," he said. Katara favored him with a deadpan gaze and he felt his face flush. "I'm twenty years old. Um…I go to the university, third year. I'm studying business…."

"Ok, I'm bored," Katara cut in. "Tell me about the scar." Zuko's hand flew up to the disfiguring scar that took up the left side of his face. He felt anger welling up in his stomach. How could this girl, this stranger ask so lightly about something that was a constant source of shame and insecurity for him. He snarled, ready to berate Katara for such an insensitive question, when he was suddenly hit with realization.

"I want it gone," he said. "I wish my scar was gone." Katara gave him a strange look.

"Are you sure?"

"What do you mean, am I sure?" he asked incredulously. "Wouldn't you want it gone." Katara looked at him for a long while and finally shrugged.

"Maybe," she said. "But what does that have to do with you? I actually think it makes you look mysterious and dark. Like the hero in one of those romances that were so popular last century. It makes you interesting. Dashing." Zuko's eyes widened in surprise at that. No one had ever said that about his scar. Of course, no one really had much of a chance. Zuko wasn't very social.

"Do you really think so?" he asked. Katara nodded and fiddled with the end of her hair nonchalantly.

"Unless something suddenly changed since the last time I was out," she said, unraveling the long braid, "you're the type of guy a lot of girls fantasize about. All brooding and dark." She looked up at him, suddenly, amused. "I'll bet you have a line of girls waiting for you to notice them, but you're too wrapped up in self-pity to notice."

"Self-pity…!" Zuko protested loudly, suddenly angry again. But Katara wasn't fazed.

"In fact, if you didn't have that scar, you'd be just a pretty faced whiner," she said matter-of-factly. Zuko had the strangest feeling she wasn't insulting him so much as analyzing him. "Insufferable. If I were you, I'd hold off on wishing that scar away. Besides, how would you explain it's being gone?"

"Well…I mean…couldn't make so no one remembered I had it?" he asked. Katara shook her head vehemently.

"That would involve changing the past," she explained. "Theoretically it could be done, but the results could be disastrous, and there's only one djinn in the world with that type of power, but he's just a legend. The most I can do is change the recent past, at most a year. If I remove your scar, people will still remember you had it, unless you just got it a year ago." Zuko reached up again to feel the marred flesh. It felt wrinkled, but smooth under his fingers.

"I've had it since I was thirteen," he told her. Katara looked at him expectantly, and Zuko realized she wanted the whole story. "I don't really want to talk about it." Katara pouted in disappointment, but didn't press further.

"Alright," she said. "Do you still want me to remove the scar?" Zuko thought for a moment. He really did want the scar gone, but he needed a way to explain it first. It didn't need to be his first wish. After all, he had fifteen.

"I guess it can wait," he said. Katara looked relieved, and Zuko wondered at her bizarre fascination with his scar.

"Good!" she clapped her hands delightedly. "So, do you have anything you want to wish for?"

"Um…" Zuko thought a bit before a wish came to him. "I wish I had some friends." Immediately, he realized how pathetic that sounded and his face flushed beet red as he waited for derisive laughter from Katara.

"As you wish," she said. Zuko blinked in surprise. She hadn't even cracked a smile at that. The same girl who had talked him out of wishing away his scar. But Zuko pushed it to the back of his mind. He waited for something to happen, but Katara had gone back to playing with her half unbraided hair.

"Um…" he said after a while. "Shouldn't something be happening?" Katara looked at him reproachfully.

"You do that an awful lot, you know," she said disapprovingly.

"What?" Zuko asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Say 'um'," she told him. "It's not very attractive." She finished with the braid and finger combed her hair. It fell in thick brown waves to her waist and Zuko had to resist the sudden urge to touch it. He frowned and jammed his hands under his thighs.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Still, did you grant my wish?"

"Mmm-hmm," Katara confirmed. She picked up a lock of her hair and studied the ends intensely. "Ugg! Split!"

"Well," Zuko continued, feeling a bit annoyed. "Shouldn't there be people here? I asked for friends." Katara gave him another reproachful look and let her hair fall over her shoulder.

'Not unless you already had friends to come by," she said. "Or unless you meant you wanted shallow friends who show up when there's fun to be had, but wouldn't last the first test of friendship. I told you I can't make people like you."

"So how do you figure to get me friends?" Zuko demanded, frustrated. Katara rolled her eyes, but remained extremely patient. She was used to her masters' impetuousness, and Zuko, it seemed, would be no different.

"Would you just trust me?" she asked. "You have to go to university tomorrow, yes?" Zuko nodded. "Well then, I'll get to work on your wish tomorrow. True friendship takes time to grow, but I can speed the process along." Zuko looked at her grumpily, but Katara was as serene as ever, the setting sun cast a glow around her free flowing hair and gave her a reddish-brown halo. She suddenly looked like a mythical sprit, and Zuko wondered if she would turn out to be benevolent, or mischievous.

"So," Katara said, fixing him with her startlingly blue eyes. "What have you got to eat around here?"

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