Scar.

Scar. That's what people see. Sometimes it's all they see. Before they see the son of the Fire Lord. Before they see a firebender. They see a scar. How could they not?

Sometimes it's like all there is anymore is the scar. Shame. Pain. Humiliation. Hatred. Scar tissue. It's a scar all over, and the one on the inside is bigger than the one on the outside. What does it say about a kid if his father would do something like that to him without even the slightest regret? It never occured to me to wonder, 'what does it say about the father?'

Looking in the mirror, I don't see a boy anymore. Or a prince, or a Fire Lord's son. I see the scar and all I can think of is how my father must have looked down on me, to be able to do this to me. I don't know that I've been a boy for a long, long time. In the age sense, yes, but...really. Inside. How could I have been a child really? Always knowing my mother...well. Father certainly never treated me like a child. I didn't want to act like one. Funny that in trying to act grown up I was more childish than just behaving normally would have been. I wonder sometimes if the others think I deserved it. I know Azula does. I wonder if Uncle Iroh does. I wouldn't blame him. Or anyone. I was such a fool. I...don't know if I think I deserved it or not. Maybe I did.

I see the way people look at me now. I see their staring; the wide eyed, the nervous glances. Facial scarring does that I guess. People used to look at me the same way, but only because of who my father is. Ironic isn't it, that instead of looking at me because of who my father is, they stare because of what he did? Never because of who or what I am.

The scar consumes me. I dream about it. I dream about the day it happened, almost every night. Fire. It's my greatest weapon, my greatest comfort...and my greatest fear.

That's a lie.

My greatest fear shared a palace with me my whole life. My greatest fear is the person I respected the most. He was always my greatest fear. I never could bring myself to hate him. Not after my scar, not after my banishment. Not even after my death sentence. I can't hate him.

Maybe I'm not as hard as I thought I was.

Sad isn't it, how I was terrified of him and still desperately loved him and desperately wanted his affection and approval.

More sad now that I feel the same way about the Avatar group.

They don't look at the scar. They look at me. They hate me, but they hate me for who they think I am. They hate me for what I did. Not for my scar, or my father. I'm not sure if it makes sense, but in a twisted way it's better. I'd rather them hate me for being Zuko than hate me for being the Fire Lord's son. So very twisted.

I always thought I hated them, but I guess I never really knew the meaning of the word hatred.

Passion is fire. Fire is passion. Passion hurts sometimes. I wanted so badly to be accepted by them. I dreamed of them accepting me, of welcoming me into the group and treating me as a friend. But I guess I knew that it wasn't going to happen. I had been the enemy for so long to them...they never stopped thinking of me as the enemy, even though I hadn't thought of them as the enemy for a long time.

The bison never noticed my scar. I like animals. They're simple. Easy.

I spent more time, in the beginning, with the bison than with the group. The animal was the only kind one, and isn't that sad? To go from pampered and loved to...this. Ruined. Hated, despised, loathed, take your pick of words. To knowing that the people I'm living with would sooner throw me off of the sheer cliffs of the air temple than call me a friend. I know the truth. I'm here only because I have a use to them. Because they need me, for now.

What about when they don't need me anymore? What then?

I remember her expression when she flung me to the ground like a doll with her water. The rage. So like a firebender. I half expected flames, burning the other side of my face, eating the flesh and destroying it.

I guess though, in the end, her words did the same, only you can't see it. Not really, because that sort of mark isn't on the skin.

I'd almost prefer it were. I know how to deal with that sort of scar. Those are easy.

It hurts, knowing how much I screwed up. How wrong I was, for so long. I hate knowing how much I hurt people.

How much I hurt him. Uncle. Uncle Iroh. He was more a father than anything else I've ever known, and I never did see it until I'd lost him. He probably hates me now, too, after what I said to him. I wish I had been able to find him there in the prison before he got away. I needed to talk to him so badly, but he was gone before I could get back. I worry that I might not get another chance to talk to him. To tell him he was right and I was wrong. To tell him that I'm sorry. To tell him I love him.

To ask if I can call him fa...

But I know I won't. I know I haven't got the courage. Maybe I never will. But I could show him. Be a son to him in spirit, if he'll have me.

I wouldn't blame him if he wouldn't have me. I'm damaged goods. Return to sender. Instant refund; DOA.

I guess I can't blame the Avatar group for not accepting me, either. I did too much to them to be forgiven. Aang never said he forgave me, just that he would let me teach him. Sokka only said that he would let me in because Aang wanted to, and the girl, Katara...she was the worst. The only one who was willing to forgive was the one I burnt. The blind girl, Toph. I wonder why. I guess maybe she understands some. Maybe she's scarred, too.

Maybe not. Maybe she's just young and innocent.

But I'll take what I can get. I'll take what I can now, and try. I guess trying's all I can do. Pushing through.

You can't hide your scars. It never works. Even the scars you don't wear on your face.

The Avatar taught me a lot about selflessness, persistence, innocence. Iroh taught me more; love, compassion, kindness. Even the Avatar's friends have taught me many things; Sokka's ingenuity and humor, Toph's wit and freedom, Katara's loyalty and fierceness. My father taught me about hatred, and pain, and fire. Azula taught me about insanity and cruelty. The Fire Nation taught me about war, and the rest of the world taught me about peace.

But I learned about scars all by myself.