She liked his scar. She liked tracing it with her lips, running her fingers over the outlines of his muscles. He'd gotten skinnier while he was a fugitive. She didn't mind. When they could get away from the guards, they'd make love. His eyes were still angry, but never when they looked at her. And she was still bored, but never when she was with him. And that night on Ember Island he said he was mad at himself. That night they made love slowly. She was sure she'd seen a tear slip down his face.

Then he was gone so soon. He left her with nothing but a note, like she didn't mean anything to him. A fucking piece of paper as a goodbye. And she would have gone with him, too. She would have. Her sadness tumbled around inside of her until it became anger, then hatred, and eventually sadness all over again when she realized she couldn't hate Zuko.