Greetings! I'm finally reposting Confessions, yay! There will be a chapter a day for the next two weeks.

I don't remember what I had up here originally. Something about this being a dreadfully self-indulgent story featuring first-person narrative and an OC who is almost certainly a self-insert (but maybe not – you'll never know unless you know me ^_^ ). Well, that's true. But the fic also has good grammar and a plot and an ending. So you should read it anyway.

And also review it.

Disclaimer posted on my profile, but just in case, I don't own Avatar at all. Not even a little bit.

~Taidine

Chapter One : Of Princes and Prodigies

Let's start with the basics.

I'm Elizabeth Rever.

I live in Brooklyn, New York.

I'm a prodigy.

You have no idea how much it sucks to be a prodigy. It's one thing to be a genius. A genius brings something new to the table. Geniuses change the world and contribute meaningfully to society. A genius can do one thing better than anyone else in the world – or come up with something entirely new. A prodigy, on the other hand, is just an honors student. We pick things up fast, and sure, we get good grades without trying, but by the time you get to college the learning curve has leveled out and you're just younger than everyone else, with no childhood and no social life. Prodigies in the workforce? You betcha. Most employers don't even notice.

So here I am, a barely-sixteen-year-old high school senior. My parents like to talk about 'potential,' but I don't think they really get it. This is it. Fizzle. False alarm. Prodigies are a dime a dozen. I, therefore, have a right to squander whatever potential I have left in me in the way I see fit.

My poison of choice is Avatar. The Last Airbender, yes. Childish, yes. In my senior year especially I got a little obsessive over it. I stayed up until ungodly hours watching it on my computer. My parents weren't happy, but as long as I rolled out of bed on time and kept up my grades, who were they to quibble? I'm quite the dutiful daughter, so I can claim some indulgence. And I figured it probably wasn't doing anything worse than some damage to my vision – not such a big deal, since I wear glasses anyway. At least, I couldn't imagine how a children's show could pose a major health risk…

…until one fateful day, I spotted Zuko in my math class.

I was exhausted. I'd come off the computer at maybe two o'clock in the morning and had to be out of bed by six. I was jazzed up on Avatar anyway. And, in my defense, I didn't think he was Zuko right away. At first I thought he was Zen, which is the name of the boy who usually sits in that seat. Zen had a kind of Zuko-ish haircut, with the emo bangs and everything (trust me, I notice these things); but I can assure you, before that day, he did not have golden eyes. That was the first thing I spotted – odd, neh? You would think when the left half of someone's face is covered in scar tissue it would leap out at you. Maybe it was the way he turned his head, following the teacher as she walked across the room. Our math teacher had issues standing still, she always paced around the room like a caged animal while she lectured. So: she walked across the room, I was more or less looking at the back of Zen's head because he was in front of me, he turned, and a shaft of sunlight caught his eye, making it gleam a translucent gold. The profile was subtly different, too. My poor abused brain went Zuko and was all set to move on, being so used to seeing him at this point – but the context was all wrong, of course. Zuko does not take Ms. Clay's math class at Columbus High.

So I did a double take, but by then he had turned back to the front of the room again, because Ms. Clay was still on the move.

So maybe I stared a little longer then I should have at the back of his head. Maybe I followed him a little after math. It wasn't stalking, really, I was going more or less in the same direction. I berated myself, of course – Liz, you're obsessed. If you're starting to see characters from that show, you may need to take a break for a while. Problem was, the show was my break, my escape. And when the boy who seemed to have replaced Zen turned to walk into his classroom, I caught a glimpse of a ruddy scar pinching his left eye. At least, I thought I did – it was a little hard to tell under the bangs.

Well, when you start seeing Avatar characters in math class, there's only one thing to do – go talk to a fellow Avatard about the traumatic experience. My go-to girl for all things 'tar is my good friend Katherine, and despite tailing Zuko, I managed to catch up to her before English. "Kat!"

"Hey, Liz." I'm Liz to most of my friends. Perhaps friend is a more accurate term, and by 'friend' I mean Kat. Kat is a remarkably friendly girl, you see, and very patient, one of the only people I know who will put up with me; appearance-wise she's a few inches shorter than me (to be expected), with olive skin and dark hair. She's rather delicate and feminine; I envy her for that, being tall and boyish, although I suppose my shapeless, black-clad Goth look doesn't help.

"Pinch me. I thought Zen was Zuko for a second in math today."

Kat laughed. "I think you need a break, Liz."

Not the response I had been hoping for. I decided to pursue the matter no further.

So I did a little more judicious investigative work – still not stalking – after school by standing at the entrance/exit of the building (we only have one set of doors; I blame budget cuts) and waiting for Zen to come out so I could get a good look at his face. It took him a while. I was almost ready to give up when I saw a head of shaggy black hair. His downcast eyes were flawless amber; glimpses of puckered scar tissue were visible through his bangs; and he wore and unmistakable sullen expression.

Yup.

Zuko.

So I followed him for a couple of blocks away from the school. Only then did it become stalking – although I had every intention of alerting him to my presence, so personally I think it doesn't count. He seemed to be wandering completely aimlessly, lost in his own thoughts - at least, I assume he was lost in his own thoughts, because he didn't notice me, and I don't think I'm that stealthy – until, on a relatively empty street, I finally cleared my throat and said his name.

"Zuko?"

I was pretty much wondering if he would react. Obviously if he did not, I was delusional, and should go home, unplug my computer, and call a shrink. But he reacted all right. Exploded is more like it. One second I was lingering inquisitively over the 'o;' the next pain exploded in my shoulder and I had my back pressed against a brick wall.

"Tell me what's going on!" he demanded, golden eyes ablaze.

I assessed my situation. Zuko, who was quite obviously not a figment of my imagination, was pinning me to the nearest wall with one hand planted firmly against my shoulder. His face was inches from mine, and I could faintly smell something like char or woodsmoke. You wouldn't usually think about how a cartoon character smells… "Sorry. What?" I wasn't panicking. I don't really do panic. I kind of wish I could, it looks interesting.

"You're the only person in this place who's recognized me, so tell me what's going on." I could feel the temperature rising several degrees; his hand pressed against my shoulder was a blaze of heat, like a too-fresh cup of coffee.

"You think I know?" I tried again. It was a comforting thought that, in-show, Zuko had never killed anyone, but I wasn't as indestructible as a cartoon character.

"Yes, I think we've established that," he said, voice rough; but there was a hint of choked uncertainty creeping into it now. Pure, authentic Zuko.

"No. No we have not. I know who you are, but not what you're doing here."

The next logical thing for him to have asked was how the heck I knew who he was, but that didn't seem to be his intention as he released my shoulder and said softly, "You know who I am."

"Yeah…" I eyed him. "Zuko, exiled Prince of the Fire Nation, etcetera." Any good Avatard would have done the same.

"Not Zen?" He seemed rather anxious about this.

"No," I answered.

He raised one hand to his face and ran his fingers over the wrinkled skin of his scar, as if to reassure himself it was still there. "All right."

He should have been asking more – where he was. What all those tall buildings were, how the cars ran without horses to pull them. All the silly questions medieval transplants ask in stories. I was ready for those.

"Then I'm going to need somewhere to spend the night."

I wasn't ready for that one, but I responded quickly: "You can crash with me." The words were out more or less before I had thought them through. My parents don't let me have boys over, see. I don't think they would have let me have anyone over on such short notice, regardless of gender. But this wasn't just a boy, and wasn't just anyone. It was Zuko. And anything touching Zuko was safely unreal, isolated in my fantasy world where I was bold and daring, unafraid to defy my parents' edicts. So as soon as Zuko nodded, accepting my offer – sure, I was a total stranger, but what else was he going to do? – I pulled out my cell phone.

"Hi, it's Elizabeth."

The phone was answered by my cousin Emma, who's nominally staying at my house while her parents are off on business. I say nominally because she doesn't actually spend much time at home. She's a Level Nine gymnast. I'm not sure exactly what that means, except that she occasionally competes and has to spend every waking hour at practice – except, apparently, the hour between three and four o'clock during which I get out of school. "Hey, Li." She has called me 'Li' since time immemorial. Apparently 'Liz' is too long for her.

"Is Mom home?" I asked.

"Yup," Emma answered laconically.

"Okay. Tell her I'm going to be home late – Envirothon meeting."

"How late?"

"Really late. Don't wait for me to eat."

That was, cutting out the fluff of 'goodbye's and pointless comments, the meat of our conversation. Envirothon was a club I had been press-ganged into years back which had notoriously late-running meetings, so I didn't think I would be extensively questioned.

Zuko was watching me. "Why are you going to be late?" His rough voice was slightly suspicious, as well it should be, I suppose.

"Because if everyone is already asleep when you walk in, you can take your pick of our couches, no questions asked."

He nodded as though this made perfect sense. It did, of course, but it felt odd, as though I had won him over far too quickly. Then again, what about this did make sense? Perhaps I had finally cracked under the stress. I'm not sure what stress, exactly, but probably your standard over-achiever honors-student-with-a-vivid imagination stress. And sleep deprivation, and deep immersion in a fantasy world.

I put away my cell phone and looked nervously up and down the street. It was getting a little less empty now – a couple of students from my school were walking up the sidewalk. One of them was Kat. That could get awkward. She could confirm I was delusional, and frankly, if I was delusional, I didn't want to know. Or she could confirm I was not delusional – I wasn't sure if that would be worse or better. "Time to find a better hangout place," I said. "I don't know who'll recognize you. Or if you want to be recognized."

"No, I don't," he said, following my gaze. "Not until I figure out what's going on."

"Right. Central Park then." Why Central Park? No particular reason. It was a big park, there were plenty of secluded places to hide from people, and I liked it. It was as god a place as any other, and better than most. So I turned and lead the way, Zuko following, prowling behind me like a cat. I focused on my book bag, which I wished hadn't been so heavy…

We had to pass through Columbus Circle on the way to the Park, which is just what it sounds like – an odd little traffic circle with an island in the middle. The island is normally a nice place to hang out. Benches, fountain, a statue in the middle with an eagle and some famous guy (probably Columbus, but you never know). Unfortunately, this made it attractive to many people besides me, which meant it was far too crowded for our purposes, full of tourists and students and skater boys (it is one of the favorite haunts of that last group). On the outside of the traffic circle are buildings and a subway station and sidewalk, separated from the street by a row of parked cars; today they were, for the most part, police cars. I wasn't too bothered by this, or the police officers hanging around outside the circle; they were a common enough sight in the city. But I did get an odd feeling we were being stared at was we cut across the circle. Zuko kept his head down, thick hair obscuring the distinctive scar, and I don't attract attention on the best days, so I chalked it up to paranoia and kept going.

We headed into the park, and the feeling didn't go away. I begin, almost unconsciously, to take evasive action, choosing onto narrower paths, looping around trees, heading into a more wooded area where we could use trees for cover.

"Don't look now," said Zuko suddenly, startling me. I had been getting used to silence. "But I think we're being followed." Not what I wanted to hear.

"We'll try to lose them," I said, hoping I sounded bold, or at least not scared. "This way." I had found an even narrower path, probably beaten by walkers and not sanctioned by park officials. We started walking more quickly. "Are they still…"

There was an odd noise behind us. I couldn't immediately place it, but obviously Zuko did. "Run!" he directed, hoarse and intense, and pushed me forward. Something shot past us, bright and hot, and I smelled smoke. Fire. Good lord…

Another jet of flame singed the trees. We came upon one of those convenient rocks that dot Central Park like breaching whales, and Zuko shoved me, hard this time; I stumbled forward and ducked behind the stone. Right, it probably wouldn't burn. He turned, extending his fist, and the fire parted around him, dissolving into air. There was a glimpse of a blue uniform, NYPD – no. No, it was red, Fire Nation infantry. I wasn't sure, the figures were blurry through the trees. They almost seemed to be both (except, of course, police can't firebend). Whoever they were, they were closing in on Zuko, using the trees for cover; he defended himself against their attacks, but couldn't get a clear shot back. I cowered behind the rock, and hated myself for it, but I could feel the heat of the flames, hear the crackling as tree branches caught fire, and I wasn't going to kid myself. There was nothing I could do.

"Stop!" called a distinctive, strident voice. I huddled a little closer to the stone and tried to subtly crane my neck around it to see what was going on on the other side.

"Azula," said Zuko, low and coarse. It sounded like an accusation.

"Oh, you caught my brother. How convenient. You look lost, Zuzu. I was afraid you and your friends might have figured things out before me, but-" She paused briefly, I imagine for an evil grin "-I guess taking the proper precautions do pay off."

"What are you talking about?" Zuko demanded, cornered and near desperation. I could just see the back of his leg, and Azula across from him, a squadron of Fire Nation troops flanking her. No, they definitely weren't police officers. "Why are you here? Why am I here? What's going on?"

Azula, of course, laughed, and shook her head ruefully. "You really just don't think, do you? Well, I'm not going to explain things, Zuzu, you should be able to work them out on your own by now. I'm not here for you anyway. Carry on with whatever you were doing before I showed up…" She waved one hand expansively, an expression of utter boredom on her face. "With that girl, whatever you did with her. She your girlfriend here?"

Zuko just kind of snarled, which is to be expected.

"Right, none of my business. If you see Mai and Ty Lee, send them my love, alright? Goodbye, brother dear. I do hope you can remember, it will make stranding you here in this backwater so much more satisfying." She gestured for her troops, smirked, and marched off into the woods, turning her back on Zuko – completely unafraid. He didn't take the opportunity, anyway, just stood there in battle stance, fists clenched, until she was gone.

I crept out from behind my rock, feeling cowardly. "Well, that was thrilling," I volunteered in a near-monotone.

"She knows," said Zuko, relaxing his hands and straightening his legs with an effort of will.

"Clearly," I agreed, fixing my bookbag.

"But if she's here… maybe there are others. Maybe someone who can help us."

And I thought: Mai, Ty Lee. Azula had mentioned them, and as of the most recent episodes, they were on our side. Or at least Zuko's side.

Guiltily, I didn't want Mai to be here.

But that brought up another question. "Zuko. Azula and her guards. Did you know they were Fire Nation?"

"I saw the uniforms, yeah. Or- not at first…" He shoved back his hair, clearly frustrated. "I wasn't sure at first. In the same way I wasn't sure who I was at first. I don't know."

"Right. Well, you picked them up sooner than me, so we might have to rely on you to spot anyone else who might be around."

"You saw me," he said.

To me, there was no contradiction in that. Of course I saw Zuko. I was looking for him, half-expecting to see him from the hours of burning the TV show into my brain – and his image more than anyone else's. But how does one explain that – that I was obsessed with a fictional character? It made me feel like a raving fan girl, although I sometimes felt it ran even deeper, that there might be something truly wrong with me, that no sane person would be so infatuated with a cartoon (and that he had turned up now, clearly not animated, did not absolve me). So I didn't say anything in response, merely shrugged and changed the subject. "I think we should follow Azula. She's our only real lead."

"Okay – you know how to track?" he asked sarcastically.

I probably deserved that one. "Of course not. We can search the park, though."

"She wouldn't stick around," said Zuko darkly.

Okay, so he was right. We wandered around the park to utterly no avail, hardly speaking, until I decided it was late enough to go home.