Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender!

XXX

He had never before realized how confined he felt in his room. The red tapestries, the large plush bed—they were all objects that pressed him tighter and tighter into his small corner. Even in a bedroom this big, he would never get free.

Dad's going to kill you. Really, he is.

Because Father would. He had heard it from Azula thousands of times: Father thinks you're a failure. Father hates you. Father wishes you were never born. And he, wounded, had repeated his little children's rhyme at her, over and over; Azula always lies. Azula always lies. This time, those words did not help him. Because as much as he wanted to dismiss her latest taunt, he couldn't help feeling that this time, it was the truth.

Really, he is.

XXX

Zuko shuddered, remembering that time, those long hours after he had ran from his hiding place in that terrifying meeting. The haunting voice of Fire Lord Azulon as he had reprimanded Ozai, echoing in the palace room, still ran through his head at times. And Azula, snatching him behind the curtain, looking at him as he ran—he could not remember the look on her face, but he pictured triumph, or something of the sort. That day had been a nightmare. And then, later, as he awoke, confused, to his mother's gentle touch, her voice urging and distressed, full of a significance that he did not then understand—no matter what happens, Zuko….never forget who you are…And then she was gone, a ghost, a shadow, to haunt the rest of his life.

She had left him. But to save him.

Exhausted by this memory, Zuko hunched over, afraid at the tears that welled up in his eyes. Don't let them see, he thought. He was sitting in the shadow, a small distance from the campfire where the others laughed and talked over their dinner.

They were family, this small group and their friends. That was a real family. And at this point Zuko had to turn away so that they would not see his face.

He could just imagine Katara's sarcastic remark if she saw him crying, oh, it looks like the big strong fire prince is upset at something. What happened? Did you lose your honor again? It was almost too much to imagine. He rested his face in his hands, trying to even out his breathing.

"Zuko," he heard a voice call, and he jumped. It was Katara, one hand on her hip. "Are you finished?" she asked, impatient, and he rose, coming over to wash his plate. But she snatched it from him.

"I can do that," he said. But she only glared at him, and turned back towards her group, her family. That was when Zuko left to sit up above the air temple, where he had camped alone.

There were still traces of the campfire he had lit when he was trying to work up the courage to offer his services to the Avatar. Zuko rekindled the fire, and sat down on the grass. Fire burns, he thought. I could destroy it all if I wanted, and it would be permanent. Not even water can heal all of its damage. And unconsciously, his hand found its way to his scar.

Mother! What would you think, if you had seen me then? What would you have said? And his anger welled up again, flames leaping furiously from his fingertips, any calm moment far from his mind. He could not continue like this. But he could not forget.

"Zuko!"

No, no, not again. She was walking over to the campfire, but he couldn't read the expression on her face.

"All of us are discussing our war strategy," she said, pronouncing 'us' as if it did not include him. "You need to be there." And then he saw Katara's eyes meet the fire dancing from his hands, and she looked at him warily, with something almost like concern. But it couldn't be concern for him. Zuko put out his campfire, and tried to will the flames to disappear from his fingers, but they wouldn't. He closed his eyes, tried to breathe. When he opened his eyes again, she put out the fire with some of her water. Troubled, Zuko looked down at his fingertips. They were slightly burned. He had lost control of his fire.

XXX

He sat, apart from the others, near the air temple fountain.

"Zuko," Katara said, her tone steady and emotionless, "we need to know how you got your scar."

He stared at them, at their guilt and doubt, and then at Katara's cold but beautiful stone face. This had to be some kind of joke. But no one moved.

Zuko clenched his fists, trying to avoid the fire that he sensed inside of him. This was low. He didn't think she would be willing, to go so low. Did she want to humiliate him even more, push him even farther from his lowest point? Did she think that he never felt the shame, the anger that was always threatening to overthrow him?

"Why?" he finally managed to ask, his teeth gritted.

"I still don't trust you," Katara said, her gaze fixed on him. "If you can't control your own element, for our own safety we need to know. You can't hold back any information from us anymore. You could hurt Aang."

She had told them all, then, of what she had seen above the temple. And he thought that it had been pity on her face. He couldn't believe how wrong he had been.

Zuko straightened up. If she was going to make him do this, he would do it with dignity, and strength. "You want to know how I got this?" he asked harshly, bitterly. "My father was angry once. Uncle let me into a war meeting when I was thirteen, under condition that I would not speak up. But a general was discussing a plan in which he would sacrifice new Fire Nation soldiers in exchange for an advance in the war. I knew this was wrong, so I spoke out. That was a mistake." He drew a deep breath, trying not to look at their faces.

"My father was very angry, and told me I would have to fight an Agni Kai to pay for my disrespect. I thought I would be dueling the general I had offended, so I accepted. But when it was time, it was not the general I was fighting. It was my father."

Zuko paused now, the pain of the memory overwhelming him. Calm down, he thought. It's only words. You can't change what happened. He regained his composure and continued. "He ordered me to fight, but I couldn't. I couldn't fight my own father. I went down on one knee, and begged him not to make me fight. He thought it was disrespect, and weakness." He closed his eyes. "You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher!" he said, and he could hear Ozai's voice, cold and deadly, booming all around him as he begged and trembled.

Across from him, a few members of the group shivered. Somehow, Katara knew that was exactly what Fire Lord Ozai had said, and she could not imagine any father being so cold to his son.

"That's how it happened," Zuko finished. "I was exiled, and not allowed to return home until I had—" he broke off here, inclining his head towards Aang.

Now that the memory was over he knew that he could be angry with them again. Angry that they thought they knew him, but that they really knew nothing, nothing about him or his life. He was angry that they thought just because he had grown up as Fire Nation royalty, that he had had a wonderful childhood full of love and splendid things.

"I'm so sorry," Aang said earnestly. He really did look sorry. Beside him, Sokka was uncomprehending. He knew Toph was sorry, but it would most likely take more than a little prying to get her to admit it.

"That's all right," he said, his hair brushing over his face and hiding his eyes. He retreated into himself again, now that his moment was finished. "You didn't know." As he said the last sentence he felt angry with himself again, but didn't show it. Of course they didn't know.

Zuko turned to leave, but he heard a voice calling his name after him. "Zuko, wait…" Katara said. He spun back around, ready for another confrontation, but was surprised at the softness in her face. "I didn't mean it, Zuko," she said. "I wouldn't have—if I'd known—"

"But you didn't know," he said angrily.

"Oh, hell, Zuko! I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. Please," she said. "Don't be angry."

"You're telling Zuko not to be angry?" Sokka said from behind her. "That's like telling a badger frog not to croak."

Zuko snorted, but his eyes lingered on Katara. "Fine," he said. "It's all right."

Sokka, bored already, turned to leave, and Katara hesitated, as if she wanted to say something more. "Zuko," she began, tentatively, "in the cave—you said something about your mother—

He took a moment to speak, afraid his voice would betray his emotions, afraid his anger would rekindle. "Not today," he said, and walked away.