A/N: Not A Capture Fic. And written before we had any info about S3, just a warning.

Too Many Goodbyes

He doesn't know how it happened. One minute, he's holding his own against her forceful tides, the next he's unconscious, and everything is black. When he wakes, he can feel his hands are bound securely, and there is a gag around his mouth, pulled so tightly he can only breathe through his nose. His vision is blurry, and he closes his eyes firmly, wanting desperately to rub his eyelids with the hopes of easing into his normal sight. After an attempt to stand that results in failure, he notices his legs are also wrapped tightly—so tightly he cannot even see the beginning or end of the rope.

A sharp pain pounds against the side of his head, but he can do nothing. He grimaces, frustrated at everything—the Waterbender, the ropes restraining him, the cloth shoved violently into this throat, and especially himself for allowing it all to happen.

Leaves crinkle, and his gold eyes dart around, unable to locate the origin of the sound. He's quickly reminded why he hates the night, especially when there is naught but a new moon in the skies.

"Don't try anything."

They're the first words she's spoken to him since their duel at Ba Sing Se, and they cut harshly to his core. There's a venom, a disappointment, an overall revulsion in the tone with which she speaks, and her eyes are wild and frantic with distrust.

He feels the urge to explain himself, "Listen—" but the words are muffled and inaudible due to a full mouth.

"No." There is no hesitation when she cuts him off, despite his inability to speak, and she drops a bucket of water to the ground, bending it out and around her left hand. With a dangerous glare, she steps towards him, pushing his head to the side and examining his wound. She senses the question on his lips and says simply, "Unlike you, I'm concerned about what's best for others, not myself."

He doesn't know what stings more—her words or the bruise disintegrating.

She doesn't understand, he thinks, watching as she shifts the water back into the bucket, never taking her eyes off him. He knows she feels betrayal, but he can't comprehend why. Doesn't she know he's still loyal to the Fire Nation? He learned a lot during his time living as a refugee and peasant, but he is still a Firebender devoted to his country.

And he wants to go home. Didn't she, at the end of the day, just wish to feel at ease in the comfort of her own bed, tucked away in the locality she had grown up in?

He watches her, and she watches him. Her eyes never leave his form, and he follows her movements about the area as she paces.

She stops suddenly, and her cobalt eyes pour into him. He sees her hesitate, and then the question is out of her lips, "Why?"

He is unable to answer, and it's not just because of the gag shoved down his throat. With one simple word, she unleashed a whirlwind of emotions inside him, a tornado of explanations roaring to life and anxious for the top spot as his answer.

My honor. My pride. My loyalty to my country. My duty. My worth in my father's eyes. It's who I am.

There was one thing he'd stood by his entire life. One string of advice he never forgot, never abandoned. A few simple words whispered in the dead of night, causing him to wonder at times if they had been only a dream.

Never forget who you are.

And he hadn't.

She turns her back on him, her arms hanging carelessly by her sides. Her fingers curl briefly, as if forming a fist, before falling nimbly and fiddling with her robes.

"I was… I was ready to give you a chance, you know?" She whirls around swiftly, as if realizing she could not see him, and stares down at him. "To think I almost… to think I almost healed you."

He knows she talks of his scar; he wonders if things would have been different had the Avatar and his uncle not burst in. But his wonder is brief, for time has passed, and his scar remains.

She walks closer and falls to her knees, locking precariously onto his eyes. Her eyelids shake, and he knows she wants to look away, walk away, but something is holding her here. Her hand, slender and tentative, reaches out and stops barely a centimeter from his face, from the charred flesh on his cheek. And for some reason, he wants her to close the small gap and touch her gentle fingers to his burden once again, because what if this time—

She pulls her hand away, and his daydream ends instantly, floating away forgotten into the back of his mind to bunk with memories from the past.

Her silence and immobility worries him for a reason he can't understand.

Delicately, her hands fold in her lap, resting on bent knees and ruffling her clothes. She breaks her hold on his eyes, and her own flow to her fingers. He notices how near she is, and knows he is defenseless, but he still can't figure out why she remains at this close proximity.

He follows her eyes and watches her hands; her right pinky occasionally flickers out, but he doesn't think she realizes the motion. As if sensing his gaze, she looks back up at him, and he sees something familiar, so familiar, but without a name.

"Were you just lying to me?"

He wants to defend himself—no, no, I wasn't lying, I'm different, and my mother—but once again is kept in silence. If there is one thing Prince Zuko is not, it is a liar. His eyes are anxious, willing her to grasp what he so desperately wants to say. He doesn't want her to think him a liar. Liars are dishonorable, and he's trying so hard to hold tightly onto his honor; he's so close to regaining it all back.

She rips the gag from his mouth ruthlessly, and he feels her nails scrape against his skin. "If you say you were lying, I swear to—"

"I wasn't lying," he says quickly, averting his eyes from hers.

"How can I believe you? What if… Gods! What if I actually let you close to Aang!"

"I wasn't lying," he repeats, but with more gusto this time as he stares directly at her. She bites her lower lip, staring right back, and for some reason, he knows she believes him. They fall into stillness again, and it's as if an invisible gag is shoved down his throat.

They sit; Katara on her knees before a restrained prince halfway between exile and redemption; Zuko on his knees before a feisty peasant halfway between victory and mercy.

She asks again. "Why?"

And now he can answer, but the response he wants to give is a jumbled mess in his head, and he doesn't know which reply is best because they're all reasons why. His mouth opens and shuts, but only air comes out.

She laughs. It's not a cheerful giggle, but a satirical snigger that pinches his gut. "I shouldn't even bother asking you. I shouldn't have bothered."

When her laughter fades into monotonous echoes, he dares to catch her eyes again. He is surprised to see her staring at him, unblinking and all knowing. "Would your mother be proud of you?"

"What?"

"I asked if your mother would be proud of you."

"She told me to be true to myself."

"Would she be proud of you?" Her annunciation startles him, and his thoughts instantly run wild. At first, he is shocked that she even remembered the common base they shared. But the thought is pushed from his mind as he mulls over her question meticulously, running through every course of action he had taken.

In frustration, he shouts, "I am who I am!" He holds her gaze, refusing to step down.

"You still didn't answer me," she replies coolly, refusing to lose her temper as he was dangerously close to doing.

"You'd do anything to live as your mother wanted, wouldn't you?" he asks in a surprisingly calmer tone than his earlier outbursts.

"Of course I would!"

"That's exactly what I'm doing! That's why! My mother told me to stand by myself, and do what I thought was right! I won't forget what she told me!" She watches him, taking in his words. "I had to. It's who I am."

"Would your mother be proud at your indirect assistance in the death of a twelve year old boy?!"

He is silent, condemned by her words. "I… I don't know."

"Above all else, mothers want what's best for their children. That's how my mother died. Protecting me and my brother from your people." She pauses, her hands tightening into fists. "Is what you're doing now best for you? Would she wish this path you've chosen for you?"

Again, he is damned into silence. He sees her—beautiful and loving and golden eyed, pulling him close, whispering, fading—and his mind nearly explodes. And then his mind flashes back to something more recent—a girl, not entirely an enemy, not entirely a friend, a chance for escape, a hand on his face, on his shame—and his mind does explode.

"I don't know. I don't know anymore."

And he is thrown for a loop as little drops of liquid escape the corners of her eyes. They are so small and so brief—she wipes them away quickly—that he almost thinks he imagined it.

"You said… you changed." If the forest and trees around them weren't still, he would need to strain to hear her. "But maybe… you're still changing."

He is stunned at her words. After everything he did, everything he will do, she still believes he has a chance for redemption?

As if reading his mind, she murmurs, "Everyone deserves another chance." She doesn't look at him with her next words. "Although… I don't think I can forgive you for…"

And he knows that she speaks of the caverns beneath Ba Sing Se, because before that, she had offered him trust, offered him companionship, offered him healing.

"Aang's alive."

She's looking at him again, biting her lower lip. He blinks, pondering why she revealed this information to him. Once he gets back, he can easily tell his sister the news, and the hunt will begin anew. And then he thinks—does Azula really have to know?

But if he doesn't tell her, he'll be a traitor.

Wouldn't he?

As if realizing her words, she brings a hand to her mouth, eyes widening in dread and appalled at her rambling. Despite this, it's too late, and he knows. He knows the Avatar is alive, and now they will be hunted vigorously, at their worst and weakest, unable to defend themselves. The urge to flee fills her; she needs to get away and warn everyone—warn them of her stupidity and inability to keep her mouth shut. Toph was still at the top of her game; she'd have to prepare to protect everyone, but most of all Aang. Oh, Aang, I'm sorry… I blew it.

"I won't tell."

His words bring her out of her trance, and she stares at him, trying to comprehend his train of thoughts—something she was not very good at, judging from all past actions.

"She… my mother…" His mother wouldn't tell. He knew she wouldn't. The girl—Katara; her name was Katara—was right. The Avatar was a child, and although he knew the defeat of this child was necessary for his country, attacking while on the rebound was low. He would not shame himself again.

She doesn't know what to think; he can see it in her eyes. But behind the confusion, there is a grain of gratitude, a silent thank you, which for some reason means more than anything Azula has said to him the past few days.

A deadly silence drowns them again; a soft evening breeze floats around them, and a strand of her hair caresses his face. He shivers, and she tucks it behind her ear. She still hasn't braided back her thick mane of brown, and it flies around her as the wind picks up. A storm is coming; they can feel it in the air.

"Honor… isn't defined by one person alone, you know…" Her eyes pour into him like waterfalls, and he trapped, unable to do anything but listen. "I… I can't tell you what to do. You need to do that for yourself."

There is a loud racket in the distance, and the sound of earth shaking resonates in their ears as the ground vibrates beneath them. She is on her feet instantly, staring down at her would-be-prisoner. Her eyes speak a thousand words, and he drinks in each unuttered syllable, adding it to the mess that is his mind. Without another word, she turns on her heels and runs—to where, he doesn't know, but she vanishes so quickly he's unsure if she was ever there.

Within seconds, several Dai Li agents burst into the area, arms raised and ready to fight. Upon seeing the detained prince, they lower their defenses a bit and rush to free the right hand man of the new monarch of Ba Sing Se. He is interrogated, but he merely says he was caught off guard by some bandits who fled as soon as they discovered who he was.

He needed to think things through—on his own, without the "help" of his sister. On his feet, he nods to the Dai Li and begins the trek back into the city.

Remember this, Zuko. No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are.

He knew what he had to do now.

He had to find her.

A/N: This fic is months old. It was completed back in February, only months after the season two finale. Thanks to my friends Lady Rai and flyawayohglory for being fantastic betas. :)