Three years after that fateful incident, Ozai calls.

It's the first contact Iroh and his brother have ever since then. This is not Iroh's fault - Ozai has returned every parcel and letter sent by Iroh or Zuko respectively. Unopened.

"I fear I made a mistake," his younger brother says. "I was harsh."

"You wish to beg forgiveness?" Iroh asks coldly.

"Yes."

"I will call you back," he replies and hangs up without saying goodbye.

He tells Zuko before he goes to see his therapist.

"It's your decision. If you don't want to see them, you won't," Iroh says.

Three years is a long time, but it is not nearly enough to heal all the wounds Ozai inflicted on his son.

During the next couple of days, Zuko is quiet and withdrawn; more so than usual. Iroh understands and leaves him be.

After two weeks, Zuko agrees.

"Azula is more than welcome; your welcome depends on your son and how you treat him," Iroh says when he calls Ozai that evening.

"He'll be glad to see me," his brother assures him.

Iroh doubts it. They set an appointment for tea the next sunday. As the week progresses, Zuko becomes increasingly more tense and edgy.

On sunday afternoon, Ozai arrives at 4:30 PM sharp. Alone.

"Azula is out with her friends. She'll be here next time," he says, but Zuko has a feeling that it is a lie. 'And who said that there's going to be a next time at all,' he asks himself.

They sit together in the living room: Iroh and Zuko sipping their tea - something the teenager has picked up from his uncle - while Ozai fidgets with his cup of coffee. Their conversation is carefully neutral, the atmosphere awkwardly charged with unspoken accusations. Eventually, Zuko snaps.

"Why are you here?" his voice is calm and clear and Iroh has never heard the boy talk like that to someone before.

"Why I am here? To make things better, of course. To take you home," Ozai replies uncomfortably.

"This is my home now," Zuko replies (Iroh feels a sudden warmth rush through his veins; it means a lot to him). "I don't want to leave."

"Don't you miss us? Home? Your friends?" his father asks.

"You're clutching at straws," the teen observes. "And yes, I missed you. All of you. I wouldn't eat or sleep for 4 weeks when I first got here because I missed you so much. I tried to kill myself because I missed you so much. Until last year, they had me under heavy medication and I still see my therapist 3 times a week--"

"Stop it," Ozai interrupts, shaking slightly.

"What? Don't you want to hear? Is it too much for you?" the boy asks and his voice is neither cruel nor spiteful but curiously friendly.

"Zuko," Iroh admonishes gently and the boy by his side shrugs, taking another sip of tea.

"I'm only saying it like it is; there's no shame in saying the truth," he mumbles, pouting slightly.

An awkward silence fills the room and Ozai nervously stirs another spoon of sugar into his coffee. It's the 7th, he notices, and the brew in his cup is already unbearably sweet.

"I want us to be whole again," he says quietly. "I made a mistake, a huge one. I shouldn't have sent you away; I shouldn't have done so many things and I know it. But I want to make it better. I want you to come home."

Zuko tilts his head to the side, regarding his father with curious, ochre eyes.

"You mean you're sorry?" he offers and Ozai nods.

They lapse into silence again. Iroh is afraid to move.

"Why won't you say so?" the boy asks.

"It'll be a little bumpy at first, but I'm sure we'll manage. You won't need to go to therapy anymore," Ozai says almost at the same time, as if he didn't hear the question. "Azula will be glad to see you; there's a PlayStation 4plus waiting for you at home. You still like your video games, don't you?"

Zuko frowns.

"Rita - she does... the household and all - cooks a fabulous risotto. You'll like it," Ozai continues, staring at his cup.

"If you're sorry, why don't you say so?" Zuko asks again, but the man sitting alone doesn't react at all.

"The Hakoda's still live down the street. Sokka's in college; he plays for their team. He's grown a lot. He's an excellent player. And you wouldn't recognize Kata--"

"Damn it, dad! Speak with me! Don't try to blind me with promises and bargains; I am your son not your customer! You want me to live with you, you want to make 'us' whole again?! You can't even tell me you're sorry for what you did! I don't understand why you're here - it's obviously not because you have any interest in me or my wellfare. And just so you know: I like going to therapy!"

And before either adult can say something, Zuko is up and out of the room.

"I believe it is time for you to go, Ozai," Iroh says after a moment and gently pries the cup out of his brother's stiff hands. "The bags in the hallway are Azula's. Please make sure that she receives them."

He doesn't say goodbye.
He doesn't ask where Zuko's room is.
He doesn't fight.

"He left the bags for Azula," Iroh says quietly upon entering the darkened bedroom some time later. Zuko sighs.

"How do you feel?" his uncle asks.

"Like crap. I thought... never mind. It doesn't matter anymore."