Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar, the Last Airbender. So don't sue me.

Prologue-A Flashback.

"Hey, you down there. You've got company!" the guard laughed, and unceremoniously tossed a figure down the slope. Katara rushed forward as the figure hit the ground with a thud. A groan escaped his lips. She reached forward eagerly, then withdrew in shock.

It was Zuko. The scar was unmistakable, even though his face was bruised and bloodied. He stared at her, blinking, confused. "You!" she exclaimed, backing several steps away. He winced at the volume of her voice, and shook his head groggily.

"What are you doing here? You're one of them! Oh, I see!" she shouted, anger and disgust twisting her face." It's a trap, isn't it? When my friends come, you'll be here waiting for them! You…you bastard! You evil…"

Zuko raised his hand, wearily, stopping her in mid-curse. "Quiet, please. My head hurts as it is. Your shouting isn't improving anything. So just…shut up." She opened and closed her mouth in amazement, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Believe me, I'd choose a better trap for the Avatar, something that doesn't involve me getting hurt, something that definitely does not involve me getting anywhere near you, if I can help it," Zuko continued, pulling himself into a sitting position.

Katara watched, dumbfounded, as he closed his eyes. Then she found her voice. "It's a trick, then. You're here to gain information from me. No, you're here to gain my trust, so you can get close to Aang and capture him. Right?" Her tirade went on for several minutes, during the course of which he pointedly ignored her.

Unable to elicit any reaction from him, she spun and sat several yards away. Personally, she was relieved that she was no longer alone, but still…did her only companion have to be him?

An hour passed without a word being exchanged. Katara furiously avoided looking at Zuko, who ignored her and concentrated on his meditation. The bruises on his body ached dully now, which was not a marked improvement from the fiery pain earlier. At least his headache was gone.

Another half an hour passed without incident, and he became aware of a slight sobbing sound behind him. He turned slightly, risking a glance at the girl. She was crouched in a ball shape, her hands wrapping her legs close to her chest. And she shook slightly. She was crying.

Oh God.

Zuko lacked experience in these matters. He rarely mixed with children his own age, let alone females. The crew of his former ship was all men, as were the army troop with which he had trained while still at the palace. But while he lacked experience, he did not lack common sense, and common sense told him that ignoring this would be very unbecoming of a gentleman, much less a prince.

"Um." She spun around. He was standing a little ways behind her, a little awkwardly. "Go away," she managed in a strangled voice. Damn it! Why did she have to start crying, now of all times? And in the presence of a bastard like him.

"Uh, all right," he managed, a little surprised, and hurt, at the vehemence of her statement. Of course, he thought bitterly, he was a Prince of the Fire Nation. And scarred. No one would want him to comfort them. He sat down again, trying his utmost to push those thoughts out of his head.

The tone in which he answered caught her off guard. There was, what? Hurt, in that voice? Pain, maybe? So what, she thought savagely. He deserved it.

It became darker as evening flew on. The crystals, their only source of light, seemed to dim as the day moved on. It soon degenerated into pitch black darkness. And it was cold. Very cold. Katara was used to cold weather, but the time spent in warmer climate had spoiled her, if that was the right word, and the lack of thick clothing was getting to her. She did not want to admit it, but she was scared. No light, no friends around her. She felt lonely, and hated herself for it. I wonder what they are doing now?

And then, there was light. It wasn't bright, but it chased the darkness away. She turned her head a little, and saw that Zuko had edged closer to her, holding a flaming ball in his hand. He caught her gaze, and she turned away quickly. She was, she had to admit, grateful for the light.

He edged closer, and still she didn't tell him to go away. He was mildly surprised by that. Perhaps he should…no, she might refuse., but then again, did he really care? Rejection was the story of his life. His father hated him, his own sister hunted him, his mother had abandoned him…

"Um. It's, uh, cold, so, here. Take it. Put it on." He handed his coat over to her. She made no move to accept, and his heart sank. No surprise there…

"Thanks," she said gratefully., taking the coat and draping it over her shoulders. It was cold, after all. No sense in refusing it. Pride was all well and good, but cold was cold. And the look of mild surprise on his face was gratifying.

Zuko glanced around, and found some old rags, and dead branches. He gathered them, carefully ensuring that the fireball still flamed. It was difficult to keep it going for much longer, and he gratefully tossed it at the pile, lighting a small, merrily burning fire. He felt oddly happy, happy that she had accepted his coat.

"You can sit by it. I'll be over there," he muttered, and walked to the far side of the cave. Katara watched him leave, once again finding herself in the midst of conflicting emotions. She hated him, hated what he stood for, hated what he represented. She hated him for the trouble he had caused her and her friends. And, she realized, she hated him for whatever evil the Fire Nation had done. His was the face she had imagined whenever she saw the effects of the war.

"No."

"What?" he asked.

"No need for you to sit over there. You can sit here." There, she had said it. Some part of her didn't believe that she had just said what she said, but another was…relieved.

And another part was glad that he complied.

"Thank you," he whispered.

They sat in awkward silence; Katara gazing at the fire, Zuko gazing at a rock. This was a new experience, sitting with the enemy. And then…

"Where does it hurt?" she asked. "What?" he asked, disbelief evident in his voice. She smiled slowly, as if she didn't believe it either. "You keep wincing, so I assumed…"

"I'm fine," he replied brusquely, and instantly regretted it. The loom of hurt that flashed on her face made him feel guilty. Stupid, stupid pride! "Fine," she said simply, turning away. Another period of awkward silence ensued. I was only trying to help, she thought furiously. He didn't have to snub me lie that.

"It's my ribs," Zuko muttered finally. She glanced up sharply, and he quickly turned his gaze away from her. Now she'll probably ignore me., he thought to himself.

"Here, let me take a look," she said, hopefully. He glanced at her, met her gaze. Hesitantly, he removed his shirt. The bruises on his skin were evident, as was the lean muscular frame of his body. She bit her lip nervously.

He watched as she waved her hand slightly, drawing water from a small flask at her side. "Relax, this won't hurt a bit," she whispered, as she moved the floating water from the Spirit Oasis over his skin. She had been yearning to try it out, and had decided to use a little on him. It was, after all, repayment of sorts. He did make a fire for her.

He watched her as she waved her hand over the bruises, staring dumbfounded as the waterbender worked her healing powers on him. He had heard of this ability from his uncle, but here, to see this girl, an enemy, actually touching him…

"Thank you," he whispered, as she turned her attention to his face. It struck her that he was actually quite young, now that the topknot was gone, replaced by thick hair. She hadn't noticed it before, had just seen the fact that he was an enemy. Never had she actually seen him as a person. A man. And now that she was actually looking, she saw that the cold, arrogant, angry price was gone, replaced by a confused, tired young man.

She was actually quite beautiful. Of course, he had seen her face before, had in some subconscious way known that she was beautiful, but his previous encounters with her was in battle, with mixed emotions ranging from anger to hatred. And sometimes, fear. But now, he felt gratitude, and gratification, two emotions that he was unfamiliar with.

"It was noting. I've seen worse," she replied, suddenly wishing that there was more injuries to tend. At least she could continue doing something.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier," she said suddenly, and he froze. "Perfectly understandable," he replied, a little frostier than intended. "And I'm sorry too. I was…rude," he added, by way of apology.

She nodded, and glanced away. There was nothing more to say, for both of them. They just sat in silence, glancing at the fire. But Zuko still felt restless inside. The fever, the dream…he was a changed man. And he wanted someone to know that. Other than his uncle, of course.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. She raised her head, a questioning look on her face. "You've already apologized for being rude," she said. "No, not that. I'm sorry," he paused, taking a deep breath, then plunged onwards," I'm sorry for everything. All the trouble I've caused you, and the Avatar. For all I've put you through…I'm sorry."

She stared at him, surprised at his words. Did he really think apologizing would make things better? Did he…That particular line of thought was derailed when she saw the expression on his face. Pain, disgust, horror. Loneliness.

"But why? Why did you hunt us like this? Do you really enjoy bringing pain, and suffering? Why do you want to capture this world's last remaining hope for peace?" she asked, tears forming in her eyes." I've seen what this war has done. People's lives disrupted, homes destroyed…Families uprooted!" The tears were flowing freely now. " I lost my mother to this stupid, senseless war! She was killed in a Fire Nation attack!"

"I see," he said quietly, "Then we share something in common."