Bruises in the Lightning

A/N: Another angsty Zuko misses Ursa one-shot...PLEASE REVIEW because none of my other one-shots did too well...feel free to check them out, by the way. They're probably better than this one. Shorter, too.

Zuko trembled slightly as a deafening clap of thunder shook the palace. Lightning flashed in the turbulent black skies, illuminating his sparsely furnished room for a split second, then once more submerging it in darkness. His windows were wide open and cold silver raindrops were splashing into pools on his tile floor, but the young prince hardly cared. In fact, he didn't even notice.

There were much more pressing issues on his ten-year-old mind than a thunderstorm or a wet floor. As another crash of thunder tore through the sky, a single tear rolled down Zuko's face. She was gone. For no reason at all, she'd left her home, her family - and him.

Frustration gnawed at Zuko, tearing him apart bit by bit. He could've stopped her. He could've done something. What if this had all been his fault? The thought terrified him. Had he done something wrong?

Impatiently he racked his brain for an explanation. He only had so many flaws; one of them must've embarrassed his mother so much that she'd decided it would be best to simply abandon him. But what?

Was it his firebending? Zuko knew that it bothered his father when he messed up his drills, but his mother hadn't ever seemed to care before. So that wasn't it.

Was it because he wouldn't play with Azula and her crazy friends? Ursa was always asking him to, and he rarely obeyed. It wasn't anything against her, though. Azula was the one who was hard to put up with. His mother must've understood his dilemma. So that wasn't it.

Was it his grades? Zuko frowned at this. Azula always brought home straight A's; Zuko averaged B's and C's. According to his father, that showed a lack of effort, but his mother had always just smiled and congratulated him for passing. The way she figured, or at least how it appeared to Zuko, was as long as he was trying his hardest and passing, then B's and C's were great grades. So that wasn't it.

A streak of white-hot lightning bolted from the sky and came heart-stoppingly close to an ancient dogwood tree right outside Zuko's window. Following it was more thunder, but Zuko wasn't concerned with that. Anxiously he crawled out of his bed and strolled over to the window, peering apprehensively out. The tree looked fine to him, but with the lack of light it was hard to tell. He hoped it wasn't dead or hurt or anything. His mother loved that tree, and so did he - of course, she liked it for some real reason unknown to her little boy, while he only preferred it to the other trees because she did.

Either way, that tree represented one of the last few things he had to hold on to of his mother's; his father had made a point to remove any picture or other sort of symbol of his vanished wife the day after she'd disappeared. Zuko couldn't understand that. Parents were supposed to love each other, but his never had seemed to get along.

For a moment, Zuko entertained the idea that maybe Ursa hadn't left because of him. Maybe she'd left because of Ozai. From the beginning of Zuko's memory, which wasn't exactly too far back, his parents hadn't seemed to get along all too well. When his father wasn't in meetings, though that wasn't often, his mother was locked up in her room or visiting with friends who Zuko knew she couldn't stand to be around or writing letters to her mother knowing perfectly well she'd never send them. And if his mother really was doing something that kept her out of the house, his father was totally available.

The dynamics of it all escaped Zuko - even when the thought dawned on him that those were some unbelievably lucky coincidences, the possibility of the two not loving each other seemed unimaginable to him. After all, if they really didn't love each other, he wouldn't be around to have this problem in the first place. And Azula surely would never have been born.

Obviously, then, she hadn't left because of his father. That was ridiculous. He wasn't even sure why he'd ever thought that. It must've been him. Or had it been? Azula was the annoying one in the family. Still, everyone loved Azula. Maybe even his mom. She just loved the whole world, he guessed.

Zuko crawled wearily back into his large, pillow-covered bed, sinking face-first into the ocean of soft fabric and letting out a ragged sigh. Maybe she'd found another man. Perhaps another little boy to take care of; one who was perfect like Azula and handsome like Zuko's father. But if she only wanted to replace him, why would she have said good-bye? Even she - no, she especially - wasn't that mean.

As another low grumble of thunder rattled his room, Zuko closed his eyes tight and sobbed quietly into his pillows. This wasn't fair. Azula had Ozai. He had no one. And he loved her so much; more than he loved anyone else in the world. How could she leave him? Abandon him like this? He needed her - depended on her for everything. Only she could protect him from his nightmares and his father's fiery temper. But he couldn't protect her.

Something awful must've happened, and that's why no one would tell him. Some horrible accident; and now she was dead. Maybe his father just didn't want him to be upset. Maybe his father didn't even know.

Zuko hated that he hadn't been able to do anything. After everything his mother had given to him, he hadn't even had the courtesy to say good-bye. She'd tried so hard, and he'd learned nothing. He was the most ungrateful, uncaring boy in the whole world. She was lucky to be rid of him. If only everyone could be so lucky. Ozai especially would probably appreciate Zuko leaving.

He was too scared to leave, though. There was nowhere for him to go. Zuko hated himself for that. Not only was he rude and ungrateful, he was a coward as well. Maybe that's why his father liked Azula so much more than him. Because his son was such a failure.

Zuko decided he was a child only his mother would ever love; could ever love. And she was gone now.

That thought horrified him even as he drifted off to sleep.

His mother was really gone.

Which meant no one loved him.