C: Cell

"What are you doing? Where are you taking me?" Zuko had, of course, expected no answer when he absurdly uttered that question. He had hoped for one, though, but the guards seemed oblivious to his fierce protests as they shoved him inside a copper-colored cell, making him collide with the prickly wooden chair that majestically stood in the middle of the room. "I didn't do anything!" His mind came up with a great lot of assumptions, ranging from a punishment due to the 'heartless' betrayal towards his homeland to an earful from that terrifying Warden he had met not so long ago. But he hadn't expected what he was to meet.

He felt her rather than saw her emerging from the shadows as the door banged on its hinges, locking itself behind him. He would have called it an electric buzz, a magnet pulling him close without him moving-like the way his fingertips tingled a few seconds before the fire shot out of them. And he savored the feeling, respecting it, because, if he felt it, it meant that she was there. And he could ask for no more.

"Come on, Zuko," her tone was dry, sarcastic, tired—aggressive almost—but he couldn't help but be thrilled at the way her hoarse voice caressed his name. "We all know that's a lie."

"Mai." For the tiniest moment, he felt the need to shout her name countless times, scream it till his throat would get hoarse, simply to take pleasure from the fact that she was hearing it and he was able to say it without feeling that unfulfilled longing, which always crawled stealthily under his skin whenever the plain thought of her would enter his mind.

"Obviously."

He sat up slowly, fixing his gaze on hers with difficulty—his knees shook, but he couldn't tell whether it was from fear or happiness upon seeing her again; or a combination of both. The air fell heavy between the pair; it hung, charged with pure intensity. He took a minute to take a hold of his feelings, to assess the situation but, ever so suddenly, her gaze burnt him-cold, accusing, betrayed, hurtful, distant. His lungs were squeezed hard by an invisible fist and he was so shattered by the lack of oxygen he was forced to look away. Ashamed, he suddenly felt the need to open his mouth and say something-anything, whatever would make her look at him like she used to-with Mai's eyes and not the distant ones he had been forced to face. "I-"

She raised a half-gloved hand to stop him-she didn't want to hear what he had to say. Not yet, not before getting it all out of her chest. Her uncle had proceeded on sending a hawk to inform her about the unexpected arrival of Prince Zuko. I'm only telling you because I am positive you will do the right thing, Mai, he had written. Give that wretch what he deserves. Even though her uncle's confidence had offered her a considerable amount of encouragement, she had been quite aware of the fact that she wouldn't be able to stay angry with him and tell him everything she had wanted to once her gaze met his.

"Sit," she whispered, because-for the first time in her life-Mai was sure her voice would crack. And Mai's voice was not supposed to crack.

He obeyed, mainly because his legs couldn't hold him up any longer. His shoulders slumped and he rested his elbows on his knees, defeated.

She leaned her back against the hard metal of the wall casually. "I was almost certain I would never see you again." She scoffed, after gathering up her feelings and fixing the minor cracks on her porcelain mask. "But I guess I'll just have to get used to you getting in and out of my life with no warning and messing it up like it's some toy."

That jab buried itself deep inside his stomach, but he dared not deny it because, whether he wanted it or not, it was true. For so long, he had been selfish—thinking that the choices he made only affected him—but how exactly did he expect her to move on? He entered her life, ever so unexpectedly, found the pieces in the ruins and built it for her, only to make it collapse once again with an uncaring shove of his hand. "I know," was all he could say, his voice breaking.

"You know," she repeated, shaking her head softly. "I should have known too."

He closed his eyes, as if the moment would disappear in a flash when he opened them up. It didn't and—partly—he was glad. Because that meant she was still standing close. Close, yet so far away, he thought bitterly. Desperate to change the subject, he raised his head and opened his mouth to speak, hesitantly. "How did you know I was here?"

She raised a black, elegant eyebrow—an expression he had been so accustomed to, yet found fascinating to watch. "Because I know you so well?" Her tone was ironic, dripping with an excruciating bitterness. Another punch to his abused ego.

"But how—"

She huffed. "My uncle's the warden, you idiot."

Idiot, he agreed. "Ugh!"

"The truth is," Mai continued, seeming absolutely determined on speaking her mind, no matter how much Zuko chose to keep his emotions to himself. "I guess I don't know you."

How can you know me, Mai, when I don't even know myself?

"All I get is a letter? You could have at least looked me in the eye when you ripped out my heart."

The words left his dry lips before he had time to hold them back, because the simple realization of her being hurt made him want to protest—not against her accusations, because those were true—but against her pain. Pain that he had caused and pain that he wanted to push away, no matter the effort. "Mai, I didn't mean to—"

"You didn't mean to?" She was furious now. Her bangs fell wildly over her copper eyes as she was trembling, framing her pale face like the night sky frames the moon. Her lips parted slightly, allowing her breath to come out in puffs. His eyes focused on that part adoringly and, for a moment, he hardly contained the urge to kiss her. He didn't notice the hand that buried itself under his sleeve, pulling out a scroll—wrinkled from the amount of times it was read.

And then she started.

"Dear Mai, I'm sorry that you have to find out this way, but I'm leaving..."

"Stop!" He knew what he had written. In fact, it had taken a considerable amount of time and lots of disposed scrolls to decide which words he would use—he picked them with care, trying to make the letter as less impersonal as possible, so that it would hurt less. But hearing them from her lips; he wasn't sure he succeeded. "This isn't about you! This is about the Fire Nation!" He couldn't tell if he was trying to convince her or himself any more.

She scoffed. "Thanks Zuko, this makes me feel all better." she muttered sarcastically. In a sudden flow of emotions, she rolled the patch of paper closed with a snapping sound and threw it on him with uncontained strength. It hit the back of his head and he put a hand on the spot—it didn't hurt him physically, of course, but the very move was one that indicated anger, infuriation, hate, and those feelings hurt him more than the scroll.

In a moment's determination, he stood up, paying no mind to his weak nerves. Making sure his voice was steady and lacked any kind of aggressiveness, he opened his mouth and made a futile attempt to explain. "Mai..." His voice caressed her name so reverentially, as if it were a prayer, a whispered psalm that left his lips. "I never wanted to hurt you." Never. "But—" But I did anyway, because I can no longer control my life. "—I have to do this to save my country."

She waved her hands in the air in exasperation. "Save it? You're betraying your country!"

"That's not how I see it."

Being fully aware of Zuko's intentions, the validity of them and the truth that hid behind them, she found herself unable to answer. Because, whether she desired it or not, deeply inside she espoused the prince's beliefs and, even though she hadn't been given the choice, she would have followed him to his quest, had he asked her to.

A few moments passed. The young woman had turned her gaze away from Zuko, glaring at a copper-made wall instead. He had his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers in an attempt to calm himself down. Two sounds echoed in the room: that of her frantic breathing and the tapping of his fingers.

Heaving a sigh, he found himself unable to keep away from her any longer, he succumbed to the temptation of taking a few steps ahead, stopping only when she warned him to keep his distance with a wave of her delicate fingers. He sucked in his breath as he accepted yet another rejection, but didn't protest. "Look," he started, running a warm hand through his coltish hair. "My life is messed up, alright? I know it is. Because I have always sacrificed things for the wrong purposes. But, just this once, I am sacrificing something for the right reason."

"Betraying your country sure sounds right." She pointed out dryly. "Very clever, Zuko"

"It's not my country," he replied, without missing a bit. "Not anymore. And you, yourself, are not very fond of it either, are you?"

She examined her nails, trying at vain to gain back some of the nonchalant-ness she had lost during the worse of their argument. "No, I'm not," she replied in all honesty. "But still, I have people I care about that live there."

His golden eyes moved to the floor, starring at it for some long seconds, before flashing to hers. They blazed with flames, piercing holes on her skin. "So do I."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right."

And then his hand was on the side of her face, cradling it perfectly—thumb on her cheekbone and fingers spread over her ear—as if her cheek was meant for his palm. He leaned close, close enough to feel her breathing fanning across his jaw. She watched as his orbs flew to her lips, twinkling with excitement and she locked her muscles in place, trying to convince herself to get away from his hypnotizing grasp. But, instead of kissing her, he tenderly rested his forehead against hers. He somehow contained the urge, only because he knew that resisting was the best choice at the moment. No, I won't make it more difficult for her. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I had no choice."

Hands on his shoulders, she forced herself to push him back. Her motion was strong and determined, in contrast with the feelings that roused deep in her core. "Get away from me!"

And so he did, reluctantly.

They were standing next to each other now, their shoulders a palm apart. She focused on the task of pouting and glaring at the innocent wall, while he watched the back of her head.

"You had," she said.

"Hm?"

"You had a choice."

"Did I?"

"You could have taken me with you, or just suggest it," she murmured. "Anything to show me that you at least tried. To show me that it wasn't that easy for you to go."

His eye widened, responding to the realization that she had somehow misunderstood his true intentions. "It wasn't!" He protested. "Agni, it wasn't. You have no idea how much I argued with myself, battling between what's right and what's wrong."

"I know," she muttered. Because she had seen the way his face would darken all of a sudden when he was with her, the way he tried to keep distant but always failed. Somehow, before even seeing that letter, she knew that it would happen. And she did not blame him for going, because she knew he had done the right choice. She blamed him for not talking to her about this, for not letting her make the choice of following him.

"Mai, I wanted you to come with me." He paused for a moment, to gauge her reaction—she was careful not to react. "But could I really let you be marked with the name of the traitor, like I have been marked?"

The raven-haired woman scoffed and proceeded on frowning, seeming to ponder over his short speech. Then she sighed, unsure of how to reply, and raised her copper eyes to take a look at his face. "Be careful while escaping." His brow furrowed as he looked at her, perplexed at how she was aware of his plan. After the initial shock drained away, he reminded himself that he shouldn't be surprised; after all, the young knife-thrower had always been very observant, preferring to keep silent while analyzing the situations and dialogues unfolding around her and making her conclusions. "My uncle doesn't like playing games. And neither does your little sister."

The prince gasped. "Azula is here?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Ty Lee is too."

Zuko rubbed his warm palms against his eyes. Knowing his sister, he was quite certain she would do everything in her power not only to prevent them from leaving the gruesome prison of the Boiling Rock, but also to humiliate her older brother as much as possible. He mentally wondered whether there was a way of warning the rest of the gang about this. But right now, there was another thought that bugged his mind. "Mai… Why are you telling me this?"

She shrugged and played with a loose thread at the end of her sleeve, successfully pretending it was no big deal. "I want you to take me with you."

He huffed, trying to push away the flickering flame of hope that ignited itself in the pit of his chest. No, I can't. I want to, but I can't. "Mai, we already talked about this."

"You talked about this," she pointed out, her hands curling in trembling fists. "I've said nothing yet."

"I can't, Mai!" He insisted. "I ruined my life, I'm not going to let you do the same."

"Yeah!" She shouted sarcastically. "As if my life is not ruined already!"

"Oh, Mai…" His determination turned weaker.

She turned her intense gaze on his. "Take me with you, Zuko."

"I—"

"Ma'am! There's a riot going on!"

Zuko shook his head to get out of his trance; he was grateful that the guard barged in. Had he not, he would have agreed for her to come with him, tempted by his growing need for her.

"I'm here to protect you."

Zuko smiled and, for a very short moment, felt pity for the guard.

Mai glared at the guard. "I don't need any protection."

"Believe me, she doesn't," Zuko quipped proudly. He recalled the amount of shuriken stars and blades that were hidden under her cloak. He knew every place those knives were hidden. Shaking his head, he tried to remind himself that, right now, he had to find a way to escape.

The blast of fire left his hand before he had time to register it. The guard shouted in fear and posed himself in front of Mai, blocking her for enough seconds for Zuko to run out of the door and close it behind. He faintly heard Mai scream at the guard, but her voice was covered by the banging of the door.

He turned to face her one last time, his eyes meeting hers. If he had thought her pain was evident when he first entered the room, then no words existed to describe the feelings discernible on her features right now. His palm tightened around the handle of the door and the thought of opening it and pulling her in his arms, ignoring the consequences, crossed his mind, but he resisted. Mai deserved better than him.

Closing his eyes tightly, he turned away.

Prepare yourselves my dear readers for it looks like I'm back on fanfiction! Yes, you heard (or rather read) right!

Now, this is letter C of those series. A while ago, I hadn't really believed I'd ever continue this story, but why not add a letter whenever I feel like it? I want to thank Pvt. Fire, for suggesting this scene and for her support through this. :) I also want to say a HUGE thank you to my awesome and very capable beta, NinjaKick, for looking through this and letter D, which is already finished but won't be uploaded yet.

I'd love to hear your reviews. After all, I've been gone for a while, so it'd be nice to have a warm welcome! :)

Thank you all for reading this, please REVIEW!