Cold water splashed against his face, making Zuko start and cough. "Wake up, Zuzu," came his sister's voice, and Zuko felt a bubble of panic rise in his chest. Where was we? How did… The previous day's events came back to his mind, and Zuko felt his mouth dry.

He cracked his eyes open, but found the world around him to be blurry. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes tightly before opening them again, and his surroundings swam into focus. He was in a basement of some sort, or so the dark atmosphere and dirt floors made him assume.

"Good. You're awake," Azula's voice came, calm and collected. Zuko turned his head towards the sound, but found that he was restrained. His hands were chained behind his back to a metal loop in the wall, and his neck was shackled in a similar fashion. The panic within him mounted, and he had to force himself to remain calm.

"I apologize for your…uncomfortable accommodations, but I couldn't risk your escape." She said, languidly walking into his line of vision. "The Blue Spirit is quite skilled at that sort of thing, or so I am told," she added, a smile curving upon her painted lips.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Zuko managed gruffly past the lump in his throat, and Azula knelt down before him.

"Don't you?" she asked, a smirk on her pretty face. Her eyes bore into his soul, and Zuko found it impossibly hard to return her gaze. Nevertheless, he refused to glance away. Azula smirk widened, and she gracefully rose to her feet.

"You're stronger than I gave you credit for," she admitted, and Zuko glowered. Azula caught the look and made a noise at the back of her throat. "And don't worry. I haven't told father."

"About what?" Zuko muttered, and Azula smiled.

"About anything. About your…nightly masked escapades, about your recent betrayal," her fingers began to tap together again, the noise making Zuko cringe. "This is all between just the two of us."

Zuko's glare darkened, and he spat at her lizard skin boots. "Liar!" he accused, and for a brief moment, Azula's rage showed clearly on her face. Then, she quickly smoothed out the lines and the habitual smirk returned.

"Most of the time," she conceded. "But not now. You see, brother, I find myself in a very rare position. I actually need you for something." At Zuko's furrowed brow, she chuckled lightly. "Amazing, isn't it?"

Zuko's glare never wavered, but he remained silent.

"You have what I want. The Avatar."

Zuko hissed between clenched teeth, and his gaze went to the floor. Had it only been weeks ago that his main pursuit in life had been to hunt down this child who had become like family to him? He glanced over to his sister, and felt a rare surge of pity for her.

"He isn't a possession," Zuko retorted. "He is a human being..."

"Is there really a difference?" Azula demanded, her voice cool. "Aren't we all just the possessions of the gods? Mere pawns in the greater scheme of life?"

"He is a child!" Zuko spat.

"And so are we," Azula replied calmly. "But aren't we pawns in this war? Possessions of our dear father? Isn't your Avatar a pawn of the resistance? Do they care that he is a child?"

"They won't kill him!"

"And neither will I," Azula replied, and Zuko frowned darkly. Azula chuckled. "Really, Zuzu, what use is he to me if he is dead? What would the point be? He would just be reincarnated and a decade from now we'd be in another war."

"So you'd keep him prisoner."

"He would be comfortable."

Zuko glared at her. "But he wouldn't be free," he replied, his glare darkening once more.

"Would he be free if he won the war? Would he have the ability to ever do as he wanted?" Azula challenged him. "No. The rest of his life would be spent serving others, settling disputes. He wouldn't be free." She paused. "None of us are free."

"We could be," Zuko retorted, and Azula laughed humorlessly.

"No, Zuko. We could never be. If the resistance won, our homeland would be in ruins, and we would be slaves to our guilt. If we won, we would be slaves to keeping the other Nations under control. Which is the worse fate?"

Zuko remained silent, and he willed his brain to keep from mulling over his sister's arguments. He had acted on her words the last time, and look at what had happened. He, duped by his sister, was nearly tricked out of his inheritance, and his uncle almost executed. I will think, Uncle. I will not be rash… I owe you that.

"Zuko, I have a plan. You have what we need most. The Avatar's trust. Continue to journey with him; learn all of his flaws and weaknesses. Discover the battle strategy of the resistance. Then, report to me…and to Father."

Zuko stared away, his face impassive.

"Think of it Zuko. After a hundred years, the war would finally come to an end. Our family could be together again." Her voice was persuasive, impossibly so, but her words rang hollow.

"Family?" Zuko laughed bitterly. "What family?" he demanded scornfully, and Azula drew back as though she had been slapped.

Then, she spoke without pretense, without a mask of calm or a smirk on her features. Zuko was painfully brought to realize that this girl before him could have been so different. She could have had her mother's smile and her uncle's laugh. But Zuko pushed the thoughts aside, having no use for 'could have beens.'

"Remember the Fireworks, Zuko?" Azula was saying, "When you and Lu Ten and I used to watch them when we were little?" she asked, her voice softer than Zuko had heard it in a long time. "When Mother and Father used to hold us and smile?" she continued, her voice low. "When we all loved each other?"

Azula swallowed hard. "That is the family I'm talking about. The one we were before war and ambition drove us apart. With the war over, things can go back to how they used to be."

Zuko closed his ears against her voice, almost childlike now in its plea. Azula always lies. He thought, chanting the word mentally as though the mantra would keep her poisoned words from infecting his mind.

"Zuko, you're a part of our family. Rejoin it. Give me the Avatar, and I will give you your life back," she continued, her voice earnest. And for the briefest of moments, Zuko believed her. He wanted to more than anything in the world. And then he recalled all of the words she had spoken before, and how they had been, in the end, merely words.

Zuko swallowed hard, and narrowed his eyes. "Never."

-----------------------------

The camp was silent, save for the crackling of the flames of the fire. Sokka threw twigs into it absently, staring into space, Suki's hand resting on his knee. She too had little to say, and preferred to stare at the flames.

Iroh had retired to his tent shortly after their arrival, and had only come out once: to tell the children that they still needed their messenger pigeon. Suki had volunteered to return to Ta Sung, and Iroh had disappeared once more.

Katara glanced around the campsite, her hands feeling like lead as she looked back to the paper balanced on her lap. Her penmanship was sloppy, as though her hands had been made of wood. It certainly felt that way. Attempting to ignore the knot in the pit of her stomach and the bitter taste in her mouth, Katara finished the letter and then gently stuffed it into the tube attached to the pigeon's foot. Without a word, the girl thrust the pigeon into the air, and watched it fly away with an ache in her heart.

Zuko. The name sent a shiver down her spine, and she crossed her arms over her chest to stave off the cold, numbing feeling that fear brought to her. She hadn't realized it before, but Zuko had truly become one of them. He was a part of her family, and it seemed incomplete without him there.

Katara swallowed hard, and closed her eyes tightly. Zuko. With every beat of her heart, she heard his name, felt a new wave of terror wash over her. This was torture, real and true torture. To think, it was only several days ago that Sokka had teased him about his fear of heights, only a few hours ago that Iroh had been insinuating that they had a relationship. And now, she had no idea what was to become of him. Beatings at his sister's hand, grotesque forms of torture, execution…all of the possibilities rose to her mind's eye and made her gag.

She had never truly realized just how much that boy meant to her until the moment that she learned that he had been taken. She had never felt such raw fear for a person before in her life, even when Aang had been kidnapped. Then, she had control. She was surrounded by her element, and it was a battle of three against one. But this…she was completely helpless, and she hated it.

If something was wrong, Katara was the type that had to fix it. She could heal injuries, and could soothe a troubled spirit. She had a strong personality, but had a stronger sense of empathy.

She hated that she could do nothing, hated the ache that grew in her heart every moment that the boy was away.

Katara sighed sharply and wrapped her arms tighter around herself. She could only imagine what Iroh must be feeling.

The man was so kind and so gentle that it was hard for Katara to imagine how he dealt with the anguish she was feeling. He seemed fragile in so many ways, unable to bear the burden of the uncertainty and pain of their situation. And yet, Katara also knew that he was made of steel; that the fire of his element blazed within him. Perhaps that was what was getting him through.

Katara glanced over to his tent, chewed on her lower lip. She could see the flicker of a candle through the thin fabric, and the outline of the old general's hunched form. Katara swallowed back tears and glanced away briefly before looking back to the tent again.

On impulse, she stood quickly and made her way over to the tent, barely acknowledging Sokka's questioning look as she moved past him. She paused before the entrance of the tent, before gently pulling opening the flap and stepping within. Iroh turned to face her, and the red, blotchy skin on his face informed Katara that he had been crying.

However, he gestured for her to come closer, and Katara did so slowly. When Iroh finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and cracked. "I had a son, once," he said softly, patting the space beside him. Katara sat where he had indicated and waited for him to continue.

"Lu Ten," he added, and Katara could hear the thickness of tears in his voice. "He was a good boy, patient and loving…a great sense of humor…" he chuckled softly, but the laugh sounded forced and strained. "You two would have gotten on well. He, like you, lost his mother at an early age, and never truly got over her death."

Katara saw a tear trickle down the old man's weathered cheek, and she reached for his hand and gripped it tightly between her own. She felt her own throat constrict at the pain in his voice.

"When he died, I lost all hope; all purpose. I loved that boy…" his voice faltered, and he had to struggle to continue. Katara gripped his hand tighter, running her thumb over the back of it in an effort of comfort. "…so much that I thought I would die without him. You'll find out one day, when you have a child of your own," he continued, lightly chucking Katara's chin.

"If it hadn't been for Zuko, I probably would have given up. But he needed me. He always had. And…and now…he needs me and I can't….I can't…" Iroh's voice became choked once more, and he couldn't continue. He gripped the young girl's hand tightly, and didn't bother to hide the tears that streamed down his face.

Moved to tears by the older man's distressed and by the grief in her own heart, Katara reached for him and enfolded him in her arms, giving him all of the comfort that she could. "Uncle," she whispered, crying just a bit harder as he clung to her tighter, the feel of the sobs wracking his body filling her with his grief.

She didn't bother with false assurances, because neither of them needed that right now. Hope, Katara had learned, was a dangerous thing. If you hoped too much, you would be crushed. In times like these, it was better to see things for the way they were, and how they would most likely be. Miracles were the gods' business, not theirs.

And so she did all that she could do, held him as she would hold a small child and was there for him as he grieved the loss of his sons.

-----------------------

Zuko had lost count of how long it had been since he'd seen the light of day. Morning and night had slurred together down in the dankness of the basement, where he could count the time only by when he slept and when he awoke. He had not been fed since he'd been brought here, nor given anything to drink.

His tongue was swollen, his mouth dry, and his belly sunken with hunger. He felt feverish half of the time, and had no doubt that several of his wounds had become infected. A gentle prodding of his side that resulted in puss covered fingers proved his suspicions.

Azula came to him every so often, asking him if he had changed his mind. The answer always remained the same, no matter what words she attempted to use to seduce him to her way of thinking. He would never betray those that had been the first to show him kindness since his exile.

The one time that he had spat on that pretty little face had resulted in long, bleeding scrape across the side of his face from her perfectly manicured fingernails. He wondered just how angry she was that she would have to retouch the polish.

He heard the door creak open and then close, as well as the soft sound of a female's footsteps treading down the stairs. Zuko bit back a groan at the thought of seeing his sister again. He closed his eyes tightly, resolving that she would have to work to get a reaction out of him this time.

But when a soft, cool hand gently cupped his cheek, he jerked slightly, and his eyes opened wide. Mai sat before him, black hair gleaming down her back and a light night-robe wrapped about her slim form.

"Don't make a sound," she whispered, glancing nervously towards the stairs. She reached within her robes and withdrew a canteen of water. Uncorking it with her teeth, she held it up to Zuko's dry, chapped lips. "Drink slowly," she instructed, cupping the back of the boy's head as she tilted the canteen upwards.

Heedless of her advice, Zuko guzzled the liquid that his body had been craving. "Slow," he heard her murmur, but he didn't pay any attention. Within several seconds, however, he realized his mistake as he began to cough, the water bubbling out of his mouth and soaking his chin.

Mai sighed softly, and gently wiped his face with the sleeve of her robe. She didn't chastise him, didn't scold him for refusing to listen to her. Rather, when Zuko next looked towards the girl, she was holding a loaf of bread in her hands.

She broke off a bite, and placed it against the banished prince's lips, her stomach quivering as they brushed against her fingertips. However, she forced her expression to stay neutral as she continued to feed him mechanically. She only fed him half of the loaf before tucking it away, resolving that Azula wouldn't notice if so little was gone.

"Water," Zuko rasped, and Mai lifted the canteen to his lips once more. This time, he took slower, smaller sips, but still was not sated once the canteen was empty.

"You must give into her," Mai whispered lowly once she had hid the empty canister in her robes once more.

Zuko shook his head weakly, but his voice, although hoarse, was determined. "No."

Mai's heart plunged to her stomach at his adamant refusal. "Zuko, you must," she pleaded, gently cupping the sides of his face between smooth, elegant hands. "Look at what she's done to you already!" The girl's mask of nonchalance quickly slipped off of her features, leaving the expression of a desperate young woman.

"I can't," Zuko replied evenly, glancing away. Part of him wondered if Azula had sent Mai here to attempt to persuade him, but one look into the girl's eyes made that notion die away. Mai wasn't that good of an actress. Her skills revolved more around the fighting end of the spectrum.

"Please," she pleaded, her voice catching in desperation as she moved closer to him. Close enough for Zuko to see, even in his fevered state, that she was near tears. "If something happened to you, I'd…I'd…" she trailed off, her breath hitching in the back of her throat.

Zuko met her eyes with a cold glare. "Why do you even care?" he demanded harshly, and she quickly hushed him and glanced above, her body tense. Hearing nothing, she allowed the tension to go out of her body.

"Zuko, listen to me. Your father wants to place Han Yu on the throne. You remember him, don't you? He is crueler than Admiral Zhao. Rumor has it that he has a torture chamber that he uses on innocent members of the lower classes." She was rambling, she knew, but she couldn't stop herself.

"If you go back with the Avatar, Fire Lord Ozai will be forced to recognize you as his heir. Azula wants Han Yu out of the way. Zuko, she's desperate for your help! She'll starve you to death if that's what she believes will get her what she wants," she babbled, and then she fell silent as she felt the heat of Zuko's stare.

"So she can wrest the reins of power away from me?"

"She won't kill you. In her own way, Azula wants her family back together just as much as you do. You may not see it, but I know her, Zuko. Yes, she has her issues, and yes, I worry about her sanity, but she wouldn't kill you. She may not even steal the throne from you. She's been toying with the idea of using you as a type of puppet king."

This time, when Zuko spoke, it was a fraction gentler than before. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked, and saw Mai flush even in the dim lighting of the basement.

Mai swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat, and she distracted herself by gently toying with Zuko's long, dark hair. Her fingers trailed gently from the black locks to frame his face once again. Her right hand spanned out the length of his scar, and she closed her eyes in remembrance of the day that he had received it. She opened her eyes again once the memory had subsided, and she felt her stomach knot as he met her gaze.

"Mai?" he asked softly, as though he understood her trepidation. But, Mai realized, he was oblivious of her affections.

Rather than saying anything, Mai closed the space between them and kissed him softly. His lips were rough and chapped against her own, but she didn't care. She had dreamed of this moment her entire life, although she had never guessed that her first kiss would take place in a dank basement with a bruised and bloodied man.

She softly moved her lips over his, hooking one of her hands behind his neck while the other remained pressed against his cheek. And when she felt him respond, ever so softly, to her embrace, she felt as though she had captured a piece of paradise.

When she pulled away, she had tears in her eyes, and she found it hard to look at the boy before her. The look on Zuko's face morphed from one of complete and total shock, to understanding, and then sympathy.

"I…" he began, and Mai hushed him by placing a finger against his lips, warm now from her kiss.

"I know, Zuko," she whispered sadly. "I know." She had known since they were children that her feelings were unrequited, but she knew that if she heard him say it aloud, it would shatter her.

Zuko swallowed hard, pity rising hard and swift for this girl before him. She was pulled every which way, her heart torn in two different directions. But, although battered by the storm, she remained strong. They were similar creatures, he realized, and the thought made his dry lips crack into the smallest of smiles.

"Please, Zuko, accept her offer," Mai pleaded once more, and now Zuko understood the catch in her voice, why she seemed so close to tears. And then, she whispered so low that he could barely hear her, "I can't lose you. Not again."

Zuko didn't reply; he couldn't. And when Mai gently touched his cheek again, he angled his head slightly, giving her permission to kiss him one last time. It was the only comfort that he could offer her, for he couldn't betray Aang. Not even in the face of her love.

--------------------------

In the dark of the night, Fire Nation soldiers slunk through the trees, dressed in the garb of the Earth Kingdom. Sokka, bundled in his sleeping bag with Suki curled up in his arms, didn't hear them. Toph, in her rock tent, passed out from exhaustion and fear, could not sense them.

Neither the Dragon of the West or the young Waterbending Master who had fallen asleep beside him was alerted to their presence.

It was only Appa and Momo, the two beasts that the soldiers cared little for, that noticed the intruders. However, they sensed no danger and so they made no noise. The soldiers marked their maps and disappeared back into the dense green of the forest, covering their tracks quickly and efficiently.

They had gotten what they had came for.

Aang shifted in his sleep, gripping Appa's fur just a little too tightly. Appa growled softly, his tone both annoyed and affectionate. Aang cracked open one gray eye and lovingly rubbed the beast's fur.

"Good boy, Appa," he murmured as he slipped back into slumber's embrace.

-------------------------------

I do believe that this is the fastest that I have ever updated! And yes, I know that it was a short update. Sorry. But when I sat down to write, the entire chapter just poured out. That has never happened to me before.

First, I'd like to say a huge thanks to everyone who's been following this story diligently... All 106 of you according to my stats (not including those who don't have this on Story Alert). Now, here's the sticks. I AM NOT UPDATING ANOTHER CHAPTER UNTIL I GET AT LEAST 20 REVIEWS. Stinks, right? But, I love getting constructive criticism, opinions, suggestions, and, yes, compliments. But lately, I haven't been getting any of the above quite as much as I'm used to. Hence the ultimatum. :D

Thanks so much for reading, and I'll catch you next chapter!

Sandra Evans