Zuko couldn't express what he was feeling in words, instead he continue to scream at the heavens, tear running down his face as the sound echoed in the still night. The sounds coming from his mouth were broken and while the others thought it was one long drawn out yell of pain, the soon realised that what they were hearing were repeated screams of anguish.
Every bit of breathe he drew into his lungs was expelled in a vocalisation of his pain ending in a cough that said he had nothing left to offer. After, he would inhale another ragged breath in, only to expel it, and make the sound again.
His cries and tears expressed everything he couldn't say, everything that he wouldn't say. It expressed the words that he could never trust another enough to speak. It spoke of his pain, his fear, his anger, and his hatred and showed the world what he had lived through. What he had kept bottled inside for so many years.
The anguished cries continued for a while, and getting over their shock, Aang and Katara began to approach him, treading carefully as if he was a wild animal that would turn on them at the slightest provocation.
The sound of a twig snapping within the fire seemed to set Zuko off into another frenzy, but instead of attacking them like they thought he would, his attention shifted to himself.
Zuko couldn't stand the thoughts or the memories much longer. They were tearing him apart. He couldn't understand why he has to live with them and no one else did. He had to get the memories of blood and pain from his mind, he knew he just had to, but they wouldn't come out, they were stuck there. They were stuck there and he couldn't get them out.
His head began to hurt. Why is it that he seemed to be the only one that felt this useless? When was someone else's turn? He leant forward and thrust his hands into his hair pulling and scratching at his scalp as he bought them back towards his face only to thrust them through his hair again. He was digging his fingers into his head and pushing his heels into the dirt until they slid out in front of him, only to pull them back to his chest and do it all again. When they approached the thrashing became more wild, the scream and crying more fierce and desperate and the struggles more violent. Eventually they had to back off when strands of hair began to fall through his fingers from the insistent pulling his was putting his head through.
He sensed the others back off, he felt like he could breathe again and the vicious pulls turned into gentle tugs, until all he was doing was gently raking his fingers through his hair.
His hands were clutching the back of his head and he slid them forward beginning to drag them over his face only to pause as stare at his fingers.
Under his nails and across his fingertips was blood, not a lot but enough to make him pay attention. Reaching his hand around his head he felt the back of his neck only to twitch at the slight twinge of pain the action bought.
The pain and blood bought the memories back. Dreams were fine he didn't feel any pain just had the memory of it, but the dull throbbing on the back of his neck bought with it, the feeling of ghost like hands that had haunted his memories for years. The same hands that made him bleed and held him down while he struggled. The same hands that caused him so much misery, the same hands that left him bleeding disgraced and useless and totally defiled lying in a pool of his own blood on the concrete floor, laying there while others watched.
Zuko had always wondered why he allowed his father to do what he did, others would say he didn't allow it, that the circumstances were just out of his control, but Zuko couldn't convince himself of that. The fact that he didn't fight back proved he was weak, and that weakness must have been why he deserved that pain. There had to be a reason why he suffered and if there wasn't he couldn't find it. Maybe he did belong under his father's boot, maybe he was nothing lower than dirt. These were the thought that plagued Zuko and they made him feel disgusting. All the while, he didn't realise that while he was trapped in his memories he was doing things that were setting all of his companion's minds screaming in alarm.
He began to mutter thing under his breath and although most of what he was saying was too soft to hear, Aang and the others could hear some of it. 'I'm dirty' seemed to be the most frequently repeated and with every minute it seemed to get louder.
Zuko looked down at his skin and all he could feel were hands touching and holding him, pinning him down and digging in harder as he lightly struggled, until it felt as if his bones would break. His arms were lined with flecks of dirt and as he ran his hand across his arm, he left small trails of blood from his fingers behind. He didn't like the feeling and wanted it gone so he raked his fingers down his arm. The slight tingle of pain blocked the feeling of hands, but when the slight pain subsided, the feeling of hand would return.
Even in his current state, Zuko could still recognise that the feeling had disappeared and the pain; if only for a little while had over rode the feeling and dominated his senses. Putting his left hand on his right wrist he raked his hand up to his elbow digging his fingers in deep enough, so that they left bloody trail in their wake. The pain; although greater, didn't last long so he focused his attacks somewhere else.
Setting his hands across his face and chest Zuko dugs in and raked his fingers every which way, up down, left and right, it didn't matter, the action bought him pain and that was all that he cared about. The tears that were leaking from his eyes continued, and every drop of salty water that leaked into the scratches on his skin, provided a burn that helped to steal the memories. Although they weren't gone, at least they were locked away, gone from his mind for now and no longer overpowering his thoughts, Zuko continued to scratch not stopping even when his finger began to dig the cuts deeper. His fingers continued to dig into the gouges, digging out more flesh and causing more blood to well to the surface, until they left bleeding lines like tear marks on his face and stained his shirt red.
Aang and Sokka leapt forward, each grabbing a different arm and pulling them out to the side, away from his body. The action caused Zuko to struggle further. He began to scream bloody murder, swinging and kicking at anyone who came within reach. Sokka's legs were swept out from under him and he landed on his back winding himself and jarring his teeth.
Zuko swung his arm at Aang grabbing at his arm and digging in, sliding his hands down and leaving scratches as he tried to claw his way to freedom. Aang refused to let go, instead, catching the yelp of pain behind his teeth, he held on tighter and reached for Zuko's other arm that was flailing wildly on his other side.
Zuko couldn't understand why the shadow wouldn't let him go. The voices that he was hearing were vaguely familiar, but he couldn't for the life of him remember who they were. All he could think about was how whatever was holding wouldn't let go; instead the grip was getting tighter and tighter, refusing to budge and causing his arm to ache. Why wouldn't they let go? He wasn't weak anymore; he should be able to get free.
Zuko began to wonder if he was just doomed to always be treated like this. But he wouldn't, no he couldn't stop fighting. He surrendered once and it was the worst decision of his life. He wouldn't surrender again. His father broke his mind and ruined his body, but he refused to allow his spirit to be broken. If he could just get free.
Aang finally grabbed ahold of his other arm and with a yell to Sokka, Zuko legs were now pinned. With this the feeling of hopeless he felt all those years ago began to set in. He wasn't weak, he refused to believe he was weak, but with every second that passed, his resolve was replaced with fear and he began to do something he promised he would never do again. Zuko began to beg.
"Please let me go, please I beg you, stop", every word was punctured with a broken sob, forced from a throat that was raw from screaming. The blood on his face had begun to dry, clumps of dirt getting stuck in the cuts and the blood that had previously being running down his face coming to a stop in his hair, causing it to stick to his neck and the locks to become matted.
After a few more futile kicks, he stopped kicking out and Sokka let go and took his place back on Zuko's other side grabbing his arm from Aang.
Zuko curled his legs up to chest and began to sob in defeat, letting out long drawn out moan of agony and self-loathing.
"Please stop father, I will be a good boy". Zuko's voice cracked on the last word, and with the admission, Aang and Sokka pulled away as if they had been burned. Katara's hand flew up to her mouth to muffle the gasp that tried to escape, tears escaped her eyes only to disappear under her hand and reappear again at the bottom.
Toph walked through the trees, and sensing the tension she sidled up to Katara and leaned over to ask what was wrong. Katara turned to her and whispered in her ear, prompting Toph's smile to fall and an exhalation of 'Oh' to escape her mouth.
By now Zuko had curled into a ball and fallen to his side, his arms wrapped around his legs as he rocked back and forth, each defeated whisper of please stop punctuated by a sob that wracked his form and caused him to hiccup.
Sokka and Katara backed away in shame, the memories of everything they ever thought or did to Zuko rushing back and causing them to feel sick in the stomach about their treatment of him. Horrible things had happened to them and they had taken their hurt out on him. They never stopped to think that the privileged prince may have not been so privileged after all. The implication of his words caused bile to rise in their throats and their wanted to do nothing more than crawl into a hole and disappear. Instead they backed away and congregated together in the corner, as if in a group they could defeat and squash their guilt before it overwhelmed them and bought them to their knees.
Aang looked down at Zuko in shock, not able to believe that this was happening or that it had happened to the strongest member of their group, probably the strongest person he had ever met. Here he was curled into a ball like an injured child, flinching at every sudden noise and trembling in fear.
Toph sudden appearance next to him caused him to jump, his thought were occupied by Zuko and he hadn't heard her approach until she was there.
She looked between them, only to turn and stare meaningfully at Aang.
Aang looked back at her and when she subtly tipped her head in the direction of the siblings he got her point.
Katara and Sokka weren't going to come any closer and Toph wasn't really good at offering comfort to people. Well she was, but she just wasn't soft enough especially not for their current circumstance. Zuko didn't need a punch in the arm or her tough love. That left only him. That means he would be alone with Zuko, he would never admit out loud that he like the idea but he would prefer it to be under better circumstances
Toph must have seen the realisation and thoughts cross his face, because a twinkle entered her eye and she gave him a knowing grin. This prompted a blush to spread across his face, staining his nose and cheeks red and making his ears hot.
Looking down, Aang shyly uttered, "That's probably best" and made his way to Zuko's side.
Aang sat down, his back against the rock. His leg bumped into Zuko's head prompting him to latch onto it and clutch at his pants pulling himself closer and wringing his hands in the fabric. Aang looked up and although Toph couldn't see, the fact that she was staring in his direction caused his blush to spread down his neck. She must have sensed his embarrassment and although she would usually prolong it, she turned away and left to the other side of the camp site leaving Aang and Zuko sheltered in the shadows and away from prying eyes.
Feeling movement Aang looked down only to see Zuko pull himself closer, his eyes squeezed shut blocking out the world and his face buried in his hands. The position couldn't have been comfortable so Aang bought his hands down and grabbed Zuko's head. Lifting it he shifted until his legs were under his head, then he lowered him back down into his lap.
Zuko hands moved from his pants to the bottom of his shirt and he pulled it towards his face, the fabric causing his cheeks to bleed again and his tears wetting the fabric of his shirt. Aang was heartbroken for Zuko and in an act that the prince would not accept in his right mind; he brought his hand up and ran it through Zuko's hair, lightly tickling his scalp, all the while being careful to avoid snagging his fingers on the tangles and pulling anymore of his hair out.
Eventually the sobs and the sound of Zuko gulping for air quieted down, his grip became slack but still strong enough to avoid dislodging and his breathing leveled out, signaling Zuko's return to slumber. All the while Aang continued to stroke Zuko's hair.
Long into the night he continued this, until he knew Zuko wasn't going to wake again, only then did Aang allow his eyes to close and sleep to claim him.