author's note: sorry i haven't been updating a lot. i make no promises because college apps, but i will try to update more frequently. if you are a reader of my most popular story New Buds, and are waiting for an update, please be more patient because I have just been feeling more Zutara-ish than Irosami-ish lately.

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Zuko stares into the darkness, barely able to see the outline of Katara lying on her own bunk on the other side of the cell. Her chest rises and falls slowly in rhythm with her deep breathing. He is pleased that she isn't a snorer, yet there is still plenty of time in the night for night terrors to have her screaming again.

Jet.

Katara had been a hapless wreck earlier. He winced as he recalled her balled up fists and crouched position as she cried. "Jet was our friend!" Her tears had fallen heavy and hot and Zuko could only watch with awkward pity.

But now, only after Katara had tired herself into sleep, did Zuko recognize the name. Jet. The boy from Ba Sing Se. Angry eyebrows with the weapons, the one who had threatened to have Zuko and Iroh thrown in jail—or worse.

It couldn't possibly have been the same Jet. What were the odds that this lunatic could have known the Avatar and his friends? Zuko shakes his head and rolls onto his side, his eyes fixed on Katara's steady breathing movement. He knows it's creepy, watching someone sleep, but he likes her better this way; calm and quiet, not threatening in the least bit.

The covers slip off him and onto the floor. Zuko bends to retrieve them, only to inhale sharply at the sudden pain. His shoulder is definitely a lot better than its condition a day ago, but far from fully recovered. The mangled flesh had been cleaned of blood and pus, yet the bandage still conceals a physically disgusting wound. The lightning had scratched away at his bones and left a deep, flaring rip in his skin.

Grimacing, Zuko rolls back onto the mattress and clutches at his bandaged shoulder. The pillow feels hot under his damp hair. As the pain slowly ebbs away, he wishes for several things. He wishes for food, for water, and to see Mai.

Mostly, though, he wishes he could have done everything differently. The whole point of leaving his father's influence was to join the Avatar and earn their friendship and trust; but now, being thrown in this prison with the most hostile of the entire group, things have taken a turn for the worse. He wonders how he'll be able to convince Katara of his true nature under such circumstances.

Worst case scenario: she assumes he is making up tales due to the unfortunate situation that they've ended up together, and ultimately chooses to shun him.

As fearful thoughts swirl his head and cloud his mood, sleep drags him under.


Katara wakes first. There is still no sign of daylight in the pitch black cell, yet Katara is faintly able to sense the absence of the moon in the sky. She makes to move off her bed but freezes; her stomach groans loudly in protest and the pain causes her to fall back onto her pillow. She hasn't eaten in so long.

She lies there for several minutes deliberating what to do next. Her determination and longing for freedom is to the point of breaking; Katara doesn't even feel like she has enough strength to face another dreary day of imprisonment.

A rueful thought floats through her mind. My friends will never rescue me.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the banging of boots on metal floor. Fear seizes her, yet there is also the buried thought that perhaps food is on its way. The steps from the hallway grow louder as they near, and soon Zuko is awoken, just as torchlight appears behind the bars of their thick metal barrier.

The hazy glow of the fire illuminates Jet's features. There is a smug look on his unpleasantly harsh face. He says nothing as he stoops down and slides a tray under the space of the door. There is a pause of silence followed by another tray.

Katara can see Zuko glance at her in his peripherals.

She wants to run to the food and fill her empty stomach, but she waits.

Jet's eyes slice through the darkness and make contact with hers. He looks stronger than he's ever looked, and crueler. "Good morning, water fowl," he greets, then pauses. "Or—I suppose you wouldn't know that."

Jet. She looks away, waiting for him to leave.

He doesn't. He slides the torch into some compartment on the outside wall and clutches the bars. "Are you enjoying your time in here? I know you must be hungry… I would have fed you sooner, but, well, I had more important things on my mind."

She clutches the blanket and glares at the floor.

"What? You're not going to talk to me? What about my morning kiss?" She winces and he laughs cruelly. "What… don't tell me you've found someone else. Is it Royal Reject over here?" Jet turns now to fully face Zuko through the slits.

Zuko eyes daggers. "I thought you were arrested."

Jet hesitates before letting out a single, barking laugh. "I'm sorry?"

"In Ba Sing Se. I saw you get arrested."

This time, Jet's headstrong demeanor falters slightly and his expression blanks for a second. "What do you—"

"We're being called, sir," says an accompanying guard quickly. "The lieutenant is requesting us."

"Tell him to wait. I want to hear what scarface here is talking about."

"He says it's urgent, sir."

Jet grunts and grasps his torch, sending one final sneer through the bars. "Until next time."

Along with the retreating footsteps, the torchlight fades gradually until Katara and Zuko are once again plunged in heavy darkness. For a moment, there is no movement as both try to decide who will be the first to get to the food. Finally, Katara stands, keeping her eyes locked on the two trays as she drifts over.

As she reaches the food, Zuko waits for her to take her tray and return to her bunk so he can grab his own, but much to his surprise, she picks up both trays and heads towards him.

By the time she reaches him and sets down the tray on his lap, he is frozen.

Zuko doesn't dare speak in fear of waking her up from her seemingly dazed quality. She sits beside him on the bed and leans on one of the bunk posts, holding her tray and scraping up some food with her chopsticks. He examines her warily, taking note of her teary irises and eyebags.

After her third bite of food, she looks up straight at Zuko. He stiffens. She raises an eyebrow and says, "Your food is getting cold."

"Oh," he glances down at the tray in his lap as if just now realizing it were there. "Th-thank you." He picks at some fish and tries to conceal a smile. Perhaps time in this prison will be good for him; perhaps he can gradually persuade Katara that he is a good guy, and eventually, upon their escape, be installed into the Avatar's gang.

Katara's next words are sharp. "Don't let this mean anything. I still don't trust you, or like you. But if we're going to be sharing living space for some time, then I'm not above common decency."

Zuko's heart falls. There goes that.

They eat in silence for a long while. Eventually someone comes and slides two hot cups of tea under the door. Katara sips it up and continues eating ravenously. Zuko eyes her like a hawk and bites his lip before speaking up. "You should really eat more slowly."

Her glare sears him through the veil of darkness.

"I mean, if your stomach is completely empty and you haven't eaten for days, then eating too much at once will make you throw up," he says, shrugging indifferently.

He pretends not to watch her, choosing instead to focus all of his energy on his food, but he is pleased when he notices in his peripherals that she is now carefully and slowly nipping at her meal.

After another long silence, Zuko reaches for his cup of tea. The drink is now lukewarm rather than hot and the aroma reminds Zuko of his uncle. The bittersweet memory of his uncle heating tea by firebending at the ferry docks in the earth kingdom surface, and the young prince closes his eyes.

Katara watches. With the intake of food to strengthen her, she can feel herself returning to her normal, determined, strong self. With her head now clear of thoughts of food, she is able to focus more directly on her situation. It is as if she's just now waking up.

The realization that she is sitting next to the Prince Zuko seems to hit her all at once. He's the same man—boy—teenager who had raided Kyoshi Island, followed them throughout the entire world, and on many occasions tried to hurt and capture Aang. He was also the same person who had shown a deeper, more emotional side to himself in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se, who had softened his voice for his long lost mother. That had also been the same day Katara decided to use the remaining liquid in her vial of spirit water—an enormously precious amount of water—to cure Zuko's scar.

That day, he had won her trust, only to turn around and betray her.

Zuko opens his eyes again, seeming tired and distraught. Katara warily watches him as he lifts the cup to his lips and takes a long drink of tea.

Yesterday, this same person had been pleading for her to believe something bogus; that he had betrayed his own father to join their side, and that he must be forgiven.

Her eyes stay on him as he finishes his tea, painfully urges himself to stand, and takes their trays and cups to stack near their prison door.

She wishes she could read his mind and heart. Katara wants to know which side he is truly faithful to. She wants to know whether she can trust him fully, let all of her walls down, and confide in him as a friend.

But how can she, when his eyes remind her so much of the fire nation?


Hours pass. Katara moves back to her bunk and meditates to pass the time. She isn't really one to meditate, but she has watched Aang do it daily and thinks she understands the gist of it.

Zuko, meanwhile, has never felt more useless. His shoulder hinders him from doing basic stretches, and even pains him when he does something as simple as walk or lie down. He can't wait to have the Agni forsaken thing healed fully. Until then, a prison break is out of the question.

When they hear footsteps down the corridor, both prepare for the daily healing session. An armored guard leads them once more to the healing room, where they are locked in. The room is so brightly lit that it takes them several seconds to adjust. Zuko waits patiently, watching as Katara bends water to wash her hair and face and hands. He notices that in her element, she is a different person; much more focused and… happy.

Turning her attention to him, she bends a stream of water and guides it slowly to him. To his surprise, the water doesn't make contact with his wound, but his hair.

"What are you—"

"We only have access to water once every twenty four hours, and you aren't strong enough to give yourself a bath."

He stiffens and she rolls her eyes. "Don't worry," she mutters. "It's not like I'll do anything crude. Just your hair, face, and torso."

He closes his eyes and feels the pleasure of cold water cleansing him. She moves the water through his hair, then down his neck, carefully about the shoulders, then down his back and around to his chest, where she splits the current and covers both of his arms, hands, and then fingers.

In a moment, he can hear her throw the dirty water down the drain as she reaches for clean water. He opens his good eye and prepares for the sting of the water touching his warped wound. As it makes contact with his shoulder, a sharp ring pulses throughout his whole body, and the pain causes him to arch his back and grind his teeth. The initial shock fades gradually, leaving the wound throbbing.

Katara has never felt more in her element than now. With a full stomach, a clear mind, and the will of water under her fingertips for the first time in an entire day, she feels absolutely unstoppable. The feeling is addictive, but she tones it down and concentrates to find the center of Zuko's wound, the source of it. As she guides the liquid around, she can feel his stressed chi building up. "How does this feel?"

The relief of water circling his flesh is immense, but he can still feel that release that hasn't happened yet. There is still something holding him back. He knows if she can heal that pain and cause the release, he can begin to heal fully. "I can feel you nearing the source of it."

She nods. She can feel it too. The water moves around for a few more seconds before it hits the outside of a huge chi buildup. This is it. The source. Focusing immensely, Katara thins out the stream and allows the water to seep into the chi buildup. If she can break up this cluster of concentrated stress, then Zuko will be free to heal.

The door bangs open, startling both. "Time's up," says the guard, who is already halfway across the room to drag them out.

Katara stands defiantly. "But I was just on the verge of—"

"You'll have tomorrow," the guard interrupts dismissively.

"If I don't act now, his stress will cause the chi block-up to grow!" Katara insists furiously, throwing her finger in the direction of the prince.

The guard blanches, clearly at a loss of what to do.

"Now, now, what's going on in here? Ice princess, you're causing quite a scene." Jet enters, his arms folded. He isn't wearing his usual armor; rather, he is in normal fire nation attire. His hair is ruffled and his face is uncovered from a helmet; perhaps he has just woken up.

Katara glares at him for several seconds before saying, "Jet, please, Zuko's wound will only get worse if I don't work on it now." She feels hopeless pleading to someone who won't help her, but she thinks there's a chance that somewhere, deep down, he is the same boy who had feelings for her months ago.

Jet scrutinizes her with cold eyes.

Katara can't help but feel her heart swell. He looks so tousled and dangerous, and that was what had always drawn her to him. The fact that he could seem so bad but, in his heart, be good. She feels herself struggling to hate him.

His next words widen her eyes. "Apprehend the girl, bring the boy back to the cell."