When Iroh looked back, Zuko was lying motionless with Ozai standing over him, hands in fists at his sides, a look of horrible satisfaction on his face. It seemed the world somehow had slowed. Iroh stepped forward and kneeled next to Zuko's fallen form. The boy's remaining undamaged eye was wide, staring at nothing. But he was breathing.
"Firelord Ozai, may I take him—"
Ozai shot a hard look back at his brother. "Yes. You may take him." At this, Iroh began to gently gather his nephew into his arms. Zuko's body was shaking with shock and his breath came raggedly. His right eye remained open and staring at nothing. His skin was unnaturally cold.
The Firelord continued, an evil fire lighting his eyes, "A son to replace the one you lost, Iroh? I have no use for him any longer; do with him as you see fit. Take him to the South Pole for all I care."
As Iroh carried his nephew from the room, Ozai's words echoed after him: "Another failure suits you, brother." Iroh heard the words. He comprehended their meaning. But his attention was focused on the boy in his arms and on getting him to safety and medical care. He would have time to be angry with Ozai later. Right now, Zuko needed him.