MAN, it feels good to be writing again! I've missed you guys soooo much!

I promise this chapter will be KICKASS ;) READ CAREFULLY, though!

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to A:TLA, don't you think I'd be using my time to correct the injustice that is M. Night Shyamalan?

The strangled, sharp gasp which broke from the young boy's lips echoed through the chamber. From where she was chained, Katara saw the tears of unequivocal terror slip out and crash to the floor beneath his quivering form.

It wasn't possible. He repeated it like a broken record again and again in his mind. He can't be here. Zhao... is dead... Isn't he? He remembered the way Katara had come to him with the news.

"… It was the Avatar State… you must have triggered it during the fight and now… Zhao is dead, Aang."

"And I killed him, didn't I?"

"You mustn't blame yourself, Aang. We all know you weren't really yourself when it happened."

So how was it that he was here, standing before Aang in all his monstrosity, when he should be kissing the floor of the Spirit World, begging his past lives for mercy? What the hell was going on?

"I see you're stunned into silence, little one." The smug voice sounded above him. "Let me help you with that." At the last word, he drew his spike-toed boot back and dealt him a swift blow to the throat, which drew a sharp gasp from the young Avatar. The front spike had done damage to his trachea, puncturing a hole through the front, causing Aang to inhale deeply and cry in sheer pain. His throat began to crumble in on itself, leaving Aang sputtering for air through the blood which had begun flowing into his windpipe. The puncture wound spurted blood onto the floor around him as he struggled to do something… anything… to escape from his pain.

As if the world had suddenly stopped, the water bender watched the scene happen in absolute silence, as though the world had simply lost its voice. She could only hear the ringing in her ears that was steadily getting louder, drowning out all other noise, including Aang's heart wrenching breaths, as she forced herself to not succumb to unconsciousness. Very suddenly, Katara felt her shackles loosen around her wrists and ankles, from which she was held by strong, steady hands and guided towards her dying friend, lying agonizingly still on the stone floor. His eyes were wide in fear and pain as he watched her step nearer to him, his eyes never leaving hers. Katara felt as though she were in a dream. Everything happened to slowly…. as if time was standing still.

The guard forced her to her knees beside Aang, and the tears fell freely from her eyes. This time, she didn't care whether Zhao saw her pain. Everything was numb. The world was numb. She was numb. Was this even real? Could this possibly be her Aang, lying here on the ground before her, dying? But of course, he wouldn't die… He couldn't. He had always gotten out of trouble and he would do it again.

But as she stared into his stormy grey eyes, which had always been the most stunning color of grey you could find anywhere in the world, she saw… nothing. No smoldering gaze of longing as they peered into each other's eyes, no spark of hope…. there was just… nothing. They had darkened extraordinarily from their normal cinerious tint, and were now nearly black, concealing his dilated pupils which were slowly preparing each image of Katara as the one that could be their last.

He would die. He knew that he would. But it wouldn't be today...

"…. Heal him, peasant." Katara seemed not to hear Zhao as she kept her eyes locked onto the air bender's struggling form, pleading for the Spirits to just take him already. A resounding crash near her left side snapped her from her trance and she jolted as the cold water spilled from the cracked bowl and soaked her kimono through to her skin. She inhaled deeply and began to coax the water from the cloth and heal the bloody gorge in his neck, then forced herself to shoot the Admiral the most hateful look she could muster.

He laughed. He fucking laughed.

With how much his throat had healed in her simplest touch, Aang could now breathe more easily and had stopped bleeding for the most part. Katara gathered her courage and raised every drop of water in the room she could source, and blasted Zhao with it, knocking him off of his feet and sending him flying against a wall. She was promptly grabbed by the two guards and dragged off to her cell.

"YOU LEAVE HIM ALONE, ZHAO! YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM, AND I WILL KILL YOU! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

Zuko watched with wide eyes as she was dragged out of the room, kicking and screaming like a little child. He felt a guard begin to unshackle his wrists, but couldn't seem to break his gaze from the location where Katara had left. When he finally was taken down from the wall, Zuko managed to clear his head enough to participate in reality again and saw Zhao ringing out his dripping uniform, looking pissed.

He seemed to lose his train of thought, strutting around the room a ways before grumbling something and kicking the wall. After some time, the Admiral finally noticed Zuko being held at a distance and froze in his tracks. Bringing up a hand to wipe his mouth, Zhao silently walked towards the young prince. It was a moment before Zuko was free of the Admiral's penetrating gaze into his own eyes, when Zhao chose instead to look at the guard holding him, and Zuko found himself flooded with relief. The look in Zhao's eyes had been terrifying. It was borderline… insane…

"Take Prince Zuko back to his shared cell with the little water bender." The guard made to haul off Zuko as he had been instructed, when Zhao held up his hand to stop the action. He lowered his face to get up close to the other fire bender's and hissed a bout a steam into the latter's eyes, making them water.

"Give that little slut a present for me, will you?" A wad of saliva made contact with Zuko's face and he felt it begin to roll down his cheek, shuddering at the crudeness. Zhao laughed haughtily and strode away, whistling a happy tune to himself. As he passed by Azula, she smirked and followed the Admiral, who grabbed Aang by the nape of his throat and dragged him out of the chamber, away from Zuko, who was being carried the other direction. He watched the Avatar through tear-filled eyes, never knowing if he would ever be able to see his friend again...

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Zuko collapsed on the floor of the cell, sobbing into the dirt, the minute he was thrown inside. The young prince could scarcely remember a time when he had felt this much pain, whether it be physical or otherwise. A pair of comforting arms wrapped themselves around his shaking form and drew him in close to Katara's frame, holding him against her for fear of losing him as well. He couldn't remember the last time someone had held him like this, and it made him sob harder, feeling for the first time as though his mother was truly with him again, keeping him safe. They held each other for a long time, tears staining one another's clothing, fingernails digging into their soft flesh as they lost themselves in each other. Neither cared. The pain mattered none, so long as they had hope that their friend would return.

It could have been hours, for all they knew, before the door at the end of the hall clicked open and they were greeted with the heavy thud of footsteps of the guards. The pair, which had stopped crying a while back, were now met with fresh tears as they scrambled to grasp the cage bars. Katara's fingers turned blue, her knuckles white, from the death hold she kept on the steel bars. Her entire frame trembled and her breaths came out shallow and ragged as though there was no oxygen in the wide open room.

Fat, heavy tears rolled down her cheeks, staining them, as she witnessed her best friend being dragged, literally, towards the cage, a thick trail of blood soaking the floor he had touched. He was nude again, and there wasn't an inch of his pale skin that Katara could see which wasn't rubbed raw. The guards dragged by his arms, calloused fingers digging into where a beautiful cerulean tattoo once decorated the skin. The wound had begun to bleed once more, ripping open from the revisited abuse, but if Aang felt that pain over the pain he felt elsewhere, he didn't show it. He stared at the door he had emerged from, refusing to tear his gaze away from it, eyes forever glued in a locked position.

The cage door opened, and Katara sucked in a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, shaking her entire body with the force of her inhale and she ran to the spot where she anticipated he would land as they threw him into the prison cell. She caught him, holding him tight against her frame as his blood began to run onto her kimono, staining the blue a sickening color.

The door clicked shut, but she paid it no mind, focusing instead on the steady pace with which she rocked him, sobbing into the bruised skin which stretched much too tightly over his shoulder cuff. He remained awake, staring into nothingness high above him, as Zuko wrapped his arms around his two friends- comforting Katara and quieting her sobs some. They didn't speak, they didn't even look at one another… they cried every hour of that night, holding his wounds shut and praying to whoever could hear them that he would make it until morning...

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