So this is a slightly twisted smoke and mirrors. Please don't get mad if the definition doesn't exactly fit.

Day 2: Smoke and Mirrors

Staying in the prison very slowly took its toll on him, but it took its toll on him none the less. After three weeks, he was reduced to something much less than he wanted to be.

They had all been separated, and it was all he could do not to go insane just wondering if everyone else was alright.

Red covered the ground and walls, the little light that managed to sneak to his cell was always red, a constant reminder of his captors and then their doings.

Keys rattled and he still didn't move, used to the sound by now. The door opened and the familiar sound of shoes on metal met his ears. He didn't look up to see who it was. It didn't matter. He was already sure he knew what it was, but even then, it didn't matter.

"Hold still."

His gaze barely lifted, though his head remained in the same position. The door was opened behind the guard that held the cuffs out. He had a chance at escaping. He could airbend around the guard and through the door. But he knew it was impossible, despite what his heart screamed. His eyes lowered again and he allowed the cuffs to fall around his hands and then bind him with a satisfying "click" that echoed in the small room.

"Up." This guard never said more than four words in one sentence. Not that Aang minded, but sometimes the small-strait-to-the-point sentences were more threatening than the ones where the words were carefully chosen. A sentence so strait forward with not a hint of fear, meant that this one knew he wasn't going to try and run away, that was also proven with the open door.

His thoughts left him and he stood shakily and submissively, allowing the guard to lead him out.

He was led down a series of complex hallways until they reached their destination: another cell. They continued to place him in a new cell almost every other day. It was so no one would find him apparently, but it didn't help his deprived limbs, and he would sink to his knees as soon as they arrived.

The guard left him once more and he was back to the same position: completely out of energy in a cell in which he had no idea of the destination.

Sometime later the news came, and he closed his eyes, feeling as if her voice were echoing throughout his head. The conversation was one-sided, until Azula began probing into a place Aang didn't want to go.

"She's dead."

"No."

"You let her die."

"No…"

"It was your fault. You didn't protect her."

"N-No…"

"Her death is on your hands, Avatar."

"No!" He jumped up and stumbled away from her. "Y-You're lying! You're lying!"

"Why would I lie? The truth hurts far more."

"S-Stop it. She's not dead. She's here. I-I know she is. She's not dead. Sh-She isn't." He flinched at the quiet laugh that echoed around him. The laugh that meant she knew something he didn't.

"And how would you know that? When was the last time you saw her? Heard her? For all you know, it could've been months.

"I haven't been here that long."

"How do you know?"

"I-"

"How do you know?"

"I-I know…"

She scoffed. "Yes, but how? You don't. You know you don't. You have no means by which you could possibly know. I doubt you know when day and night are. Tell me, is it day right now?"

Aang looked around the windowless room, the only light being the faint red glow of two torches outside the cell. He fell down to his knees and shook his head sharply. "She isn't dead."

"Hmm."

Aang raised his head and glared at her deeply, making his loathing clear, and made sure that his words were just as clear. "Where is she?"

Her face didn't change it's knowing look. "She was so much weaker than she looked, especially when you were brought into the equation."

"Where is she?"

"She cried. One of most powerful water benders in the world reduced to tears in mere minutes. It only goes to show how weak they really are. She called for you, and I think she actually expected you to come."

"Where is she?!" He jumped to his feet and sent an airblast from him to her, powered by his anger.

Azula landed hard on her back and Aang felt a smug smirk rise despite himself. He was quick to push it aside, not wanting to become anything like her as he stood over her. "Answer my question."

She began to rise and Aang pounded a powerful gust of air into her stomach, sending her harshly back to the floor. "WHERE IS SHE?"

She stayed on her back and glared up at him. "She's dead. She's wherever they decided to bury her."

Aang stumbled back, eyes wide. "S-Stop. You're lying! You know where she is!"

"No. I don't. The last time I saw her was two weeks ago in her cell."

For once she seemed sincere, and Aang couldn't help the terror clawing its way up his throat. He opened his mouth and a scream escaped that he didn't realize he had been

holding, before he fell to his knees, his scream gradually working into sobs. "No…"

Azula waited a moment before standing. "What would she think if she saw you now? But by your beliefs, she probably can, can't she?"

Aang tried to stifle the sobs, but it was all he could do to keep breathing.

"You're pathetic." She whispered. And Aang once again heard the echo of her shoes as she walked confidently from his cell.

"No… K-Katara… I-I'm sorry…."

In another cell, somewhere not much deeper into the prison, a girl with long brown hair raised her head to glance out of the bars of her cell to the moon. She waited patiently., praying he would come, not knowing that his faith had been turned into depression. That he didn't know if she was alive.

Eventually his belief that he could do anything, was turned into a belief that he could do nothing.

And all she had to do was use a little smoke and mirrors. And for her, it was just to easy.

Review! Pretty please?