It was one thing for Zuko to be surprised at opening the door and finding Jet on the other side. It was quite another to have the older boy shove a scuffed, terribly familiar PSP handheld into Zuko’s hands.

“Sorry for the delay,” Jet shrugged. “I figured six years late is better than never. Right?”

“Right.” It was surreal. “What the hell is this about, Jet?”

Again, the ambiguous shrug. “Just figured it was best to have things clean and clear, now that you’re back in the picture.” Keen eyes flickered up, bellying the faux sleepiness of Jet’s slouch against the doorframe. “For the moment, anyway.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” The again went unspoken, but somehow the set of Jet’s face told Zuko he heard it loud and plain.

“Your girlfriend,” Jet said with soft, lethal emphasis, “is cute.”

Zuko looked away.

“…right. Like I said, I just wanted to have things clear between us. Figured, hey, what’s yours is yours and what’s mine is mine. Possession is nine tenths of the law and all that. No point inviting any potential misunderstandings over old times.” Jet’s tone was friendly; his eyes were a locked door. “Know what I mean?”

Zuko thought of blue eyes, summer laughter, and the fact that all those years ago she kissed him first. And then he thought of fire, bandages, and the shoebox of letter he couldn’t answer. Fifty-two letters exactly, one for every week of the year she kept trying, kept waiting, kept hoping. Fifty-two attempts until she stopped, and he tried to feel relieved for her sake if not his own. Fifty-two, and he knew almost every line on every page.

“Yeah,” Zuko said. “I know what you mean.”