Prompt: Branding
Hurt Character: Suki
Comforting Character(s): Zuko
Characters: Suki, Zuko
Relationships: Suki & Zuko
Warnings (Aside from the Self-Evident): Nonconsensual drugging, public mutilation, cruel and unusual punishment
Other Tags: Western Air Temple era, post Boiling Rock, canon compliant if you really squint

It all started out as a routine shopping trip.

Going to a market was risky, but with three unexpected extra mouths to feed they were running dangerously low on supplies (again). Given that Katara and Sokka wanted to spend time with their father, Aang and Toph were busy with earthbending training, and Katara had been snapping at him all day to "make yourself useful or get out of the way," Zuko had judged himself to be the most logical choice to make the trip. He really shouldn't have been surprised when Suki volunteered to go with him—after all, they were both in desperate need of new clothes.

"See if you can't pick up something for Dad and Chit Sang too, while you're at it," Katara told Suki, who was going over the shopping list while Zuko got the saddle on Appa. "It doesn't have to be fancy, just… not a prison uniform."

"Will do," Suki reassured her before clambering into Appa's saddle. Zuko flicked the reins, and they were off.

Thankfully, the market wasn't far away. Otherwise the awkward silence might have become unbearable.

What could you say to someone whose village you'd burned down? While Suki didn't seem to be holding the same grudge Katara was, they still weren't friends, and Zuko couldn't do anything for her that would work as a peace offering the way he'd done with Sokka and Aang. In the end, he decided, it would probably be best to just give her space and leave it to her to make the first move. He'd known from the beginning that earning the others' trust wouldn't be easy, and that they would have to forgive him on their terms, not his, and Suki was no exception.

Therefore, it came as quite the surprise when Suki was the one to turn to him.

"Would you like some makeup?"

Zuko was too taken aback—both by the strangeness of the question and by the fact that Suki was voluntarily talking to him—to answer with anything more than an eloquent "…huh?"

"To cover up your scar." She nodded toward his face. "It's…" Her eyes slid away from him, in order to gaze out over the clouds instead. "Well, it would probably be better if you're not recognized."

Oh! "…oh. Yeah, sure."

Suki, as it turned out, had two jars of makeup with her: a red and a white. Zuko vaguely remembered the island whose all-female warriors had painted their faces to match that of Avatar Kyoshi; that paint had been meant to stand out, not blend in. Suki, however, turned out to be more resourceful than he'd been giving her credit for; she spent the first part of the ride carefully mixing the two colors together, varying the proportions until she had something that matched his skin tone to her satisfaction.

"Where have you been keeping that, anyway?" The last he'd heard, the Boiling Rock wasn't exactly big on personal possessions.

"Oh, I just borrowed some from Sokka." The smirk on her face said that there was a story there that Zuko was missing, and upon a couple seconds' reflection, he decided he probably didn't want to know. "This isn't going to be an exact match," she continued as she started dabbing it over his eye, "but it ought to work well enough. People tend not to see what they're not looking for."

Zuko nodded his thanks as she pulled away; if Suki had noticed how much he'd stiffened up while she was touching his face, she was tactful enough not to mention it. On impulse, he pulled out his swords and tilted the joined weapons to view his reflection in the blade.

It was… surprising. In all honesty, he'd almost forgotten what his face had looked like without the scar. While Suki had been right that the color wasn't a perfect match for his skin tone, and one of his eyes was still visibly narrower than the other, for the first time since he was thirteen he looked almost… normal.

"This won't run off or anything, will it?" It was the only thing he could think to ask to cover up the tangle of emotions that was suddenly welling in his throat.

Suki, still either tactful or oblivious, shook her head. "That makeup is meant to be worn for days on end, in all different conditions. Just don't rub your face and you'll be fine."

After that, there didn't seem to be anything more to say, and their brief moment of civil conversation didn't make the silence that followed any less awkward. It was a huge relief when they finally landed, within walking distance of the market but still well out of sight in the middle of a stand of trees.

Appa, they left concealed in the foliage; he was too easily recognizable as the Avatar's bison. The two of them were also doing the best they could to keep a low profile: Suki was wearing a Fire Nation outfit she'd borrowed from Katara, Zuko a cloak he'd borrowed from Sokka (he'd decided not to ask where they had gotten it) with the hood pulled low over his face, just in case. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best they could do.

Still feeling awkward and wrong-footed, he turned to Suki. "So… um…"

"You get food, and I'll do clothes?" Once again, her tone was all business: not exactly friendly, but not openly hostile either, the phrasing leaving just enough room for him to give his input if he wanted.

"Yeah." Zuko rubbed the back of his neck, relieved. "Yeah, that works for me."

"Okay, then." Suki handed him the grocery list. "Meet me back here at noon."

"Sure. Good. That's good." Then, they parted ways without much more to say.

Thankfully, shopping was not hard.

Though Zuko had quickly proven himself to be worse than useless when it came to cooking, nobody was asking him to do any actual preparation, and most of the ingredients Katara had asked for were pretty basic: rice, vegetables, tofu, a few spices and herbs. He managed to get everything on the list without too much trouble. In a rare moment of foresight, he'd also thought to fill his purse with money before leaving the palace, so he had plenty to spare even after having filled his bag with food.

For a second, he hesitated. He'd already purchased everything they needed, and he did still have both money and time to spare. There was no reason for him not to splurge a bit… except for his doubts about how long his flimsy disguise was going to hold up. Suki's skills with makeup might have been good, but his scar was also very big and distinct, and if even one person recognized him, he was done for. The smart thing would be to accept that he'd already finished what he'd come here to do, get back to Appa, and wait for Suki as planned.

Zuko had never been particularly good at doing the smart thing.

So, he wandered around the market a little bit longer, and stocked up on some things that weren't immediately essential, but which were good to have around and which he knew the group was running low on: medicine, a few basic toiletries, and (for nostalgia's sake) tea. While it wasn't nearly enough to make up for chasing them halfway around the world and back, he hoped that as a peace offering, it would at least be a start.

He managed to time it perfectly: by the time that he'd tucked the final tin of tea leaves into his bag, the Sun was almost (but not quite) at its highest point in the sky, and he calculated that he'd have just enough time to make it back to Appa by their agreed-upon meeting time. Zuko almost couldn't believe how smoothly things had gone.

That should have been his first clue that something was about to go terribly, horribly wrong.

Zuko made it back to their meeting point with only a few minutes to spare. Contrary to his expectations, Suki hadn't returned yet; there was only Appa, munching placidly on some of the nearby vegetation. For a few seconds, Zuko was so surprised that he wasn't sure what to do; he'd honestly expected her to be waiting for him by the bison, most likely with her arms crossed and her foot tapping impatiently against the ground.

It was too soon to worry, he reminded himself as he secured his bag in Appa's saddle. Technically speaking, Suki wasn't even late yet, and there were any number of perfectly ordinary reasons that she could have been held up. If his own previous experiences were anything to go by, being fitted for clothing could take hours, and having to guess the measurements of three of the people she was buying for couldn't have helped matters. Even if it was something more sinister… well, he'd seen her fight at the Boiling Rock. Suki could take care of herself.

So, he waited. And waited. And waited some more. Almost an hour later and Suki still hadn't shown, and the vague sense of unease that Zuko had started out with was now a clenching uncertainty in his gut that she was in some sort of trouble.

In the end, he decided that it would be much better for Suki to be angry at him for making them late(r) than to leave her hanging if she needed help. Pretty much everyone in the group was already angry at him, after all; it wasn't as if one more irritation would make much of a difference. So, he scrawled a quick note which he left pinned to the saddle in case she did come back while he was gone, took up his swords, and set off down the road back to the market.

A couple of days out of prison, and Suki was only just barely beginning to feel human again.

For one thing, she'd finally gotten a good wash, and good food, and some time to spend with people who wouldn't knife her in the back at the slightest provocation… but having to choose between her ratty prison uniform and begging a loan from Katara was still a constant reminder of what she had just gotten out of. She was in desperate need of her own clothes.

So, she didn't think anything of walking into the nearest clothing shop and browsing the wares. The Avatar's group was by no means rich, but thankfully Zuko had brought a decent amount of money with him (at least having royalty in their group was good for something), which they'd split between them before going their separate ways. She might have to budget, but she wouldn't have to beg.

It probably should have set off a few alarm bells when the girl who was minding the store sprang to her feet and looked agape at Suki for a couple of seconds before sprinting for the back, but… well, she did look pretty young, and Suki didn't have more than a couple of seconds to puzzle it out before the head seamstress emerged from between the bolts of fabric.

"I do hope you'll excuse Miyuki," she said smoothly. "She's only been here for a couple of weeks, and… well, this is her first job. Now, what can I do for you?"

Her courteous and professional manner was enough to put anyone at ease, and Suki relaxed as she was guided to a chair. The seamstress even offered her light refreshments as she explained what she wanted.

The story she gave was that she'd been tasked with buying new clothes for her father, brother, and uncle, who couldn't spare time from their work to come in person, but whose measurements she had with her (Katara having forced Hakoda, Chit Sang, and Zuko to submit to a knotted cord stretched along various parts of their bodies before they'd left that morning), and had decided to splurge on a little something for herself while she was at it. Thankfully, the seamstress didn't seem to be the gossipy sort and didn't prod her for further details, only nodded in understanding as Suki sipped her tea—an excellent blend, though not one she could ever recall having tasted before.

It didn't take her long to go over her budget and specify what she was looking for—serviceable, but nothing too fancy. The seamstress took down the men's measurements and called out instructions to Miyuki. Once everything else had been wrapped up in a bundle in front of her, she turned to Suki. "Well, I'd say it's about time to get your measure, dear."

Obligingly, Suki stood up… and abruptly found herself wobbling.

"I…" This wasn't a momentary faintness. It wasn't going away. Instead, the room tilted around her, and Suki threw her hands out to catch herself as her legs turned to liquid beneath her. She was only partially successful; the table broke her fall but ended up flipping under her weight, knocking the teapot onto the floor with a clatter. Unable to muster up the strength to move, she could only stare at the dark puddle that was slowly spreading over the stones in front of her.

"What… did you put in it?" Suki whispered. "And why?"

"Miyuki." There was no longer even the slightest hint of geniality in the seamstress's voice. "Go get the guards."

As the girl scrambled for the door, the seamstress returned her attention to Suki and coolly unfurled a sheet of parchment. A wanted poster. One bearing an illustration of Suki's face. Hakoda's. Zuko's. Chit Sang's.

"You would have been better off simply stealing what you wanted, my dear." Miyuki's light footsteps returned to the shop, followed by the clanking of many booted feet. It was the last thing Suki was aware of before darkness overcame her.

Oh, this was not good.

When Suki came to, the first thing she noticed was that her hands were bound. As were her feet. Also, she was surrounded by Fire Nation soldiers.

"Mmmmmm." Try as she might, however, she couldn't even seem to make her mouth string two syllables together, much less form a coherent sentence. Whatever it was she'd been dosed with, it didn't seem to have fully worn off.

Upon seeing her slight movement and hearing her muffled attempt to speak, the soldier nearest her chuckled. It wasn't a nice laugh.

"I don't suppose anyone ever told you what the punishment is for escaped convicts?"

No, no one had ever told her officially—but she had heard plenty of stories. They'd all been pretty nasty.

Any hope that those stories had been nothing more than an unfounded rumor used to haze the new prisoners was promptly dashed when one of the other soldiers stepped forward with a branding iron. He held it steady while the apparent leader of the group conjured a flame, which he held under the business end of the metal.

Frantically, Suki looked around for anything (or anyone) that could help her, but found nothing. She'd been cuffed in a kneeling position atop some sort of platform in the middle of the town square, with her ankle cuffs affixed to the floor and her hands stretched out in front of her. Even if not for the drug that was still working its way out of her system, she couldn't have moved if her life had depended on it.

Worse, it seemed as if this was going to be a public mutilation: a large crowd was beginning to gather, whispers drifting among them, but even a cursory look told her she wouldn't be getting any help from that quarter: this was a Fire Nation town, the spectators' clothing a sea of red with nary a scrap of green or brown in sight, and even those who were looking at her with expressions of pity rather than disgust or bloodlust all seemed to be too scared to actually do anything. Unless Zuko had managed to avoid being captured as well (even the best makeup could only cover so much, and his face had been on that poster right next to hers, as clear as day), Suki was on her own.

If they threw her back in the Boiling Rock, she decided, she was going to have to kill the warden this time. Though she had never been one to give up without a fight, it looked as if the worst was already happening, and she was realist enough to accept that there was nothing she could do to prevent it. If it came to the point where there was no longer any hope of things getting better, she'd rather go down fighting than let them break her completely.

"Hoping someone will save you?" The man in charge seemed to have seen her frantically scoping the crowd, and guessed her thoughts. "They won't." He looked almost bored as the metal over his hands got so hot the air above it began to shimmer and distort, and Suki knew that he'd chosen to stand within her line of sight because she was meant to see. "No one cares what happens to a criminal—especially not when anyone attempting to aid you will only share in your punishment."

Unfortunately, it seemed that he was right—the few sympathetic whispers she'd picked up on when the spectacle had started were now drowned out by an air of festivity and people guessing loudly at what she might have done to deserve this. That didn't mean Suki had to take this lying down: they were going to do it whether she submitted or not, so she might as well go down fighting, even if the only weapon that was left to her was her words.

"'m no criminal." Her speech was considerably slurred, but at least she could articulate again; she pitched her voice as loud as she was able as she addressed the crowd. "The only crime that I'm guilty of is resisting the Fire Nation's tyranny."

The man in front of her looked singularly unimpressed. "That's a nice little speech you gave," he told her with an air of boredom, and let the fire in his hand go out. He reached out to take the branding iron from his subordinate. "It's not going to change your fate."

Then, without warning, he pressed the hot iron to her forearm.

Much as she didn't want to give them the satisfaction, it was impossible to hold back the scream as her flesh sizzled and her nose was filled with the smell of burning meat. Even though she would have given anything in that moment just to make it stop, he kept the iron pressed against her skin for several agonizing seconds that crawled by like hours, but even after it was removed, the pain did not abate, the wound continuing to burn as if with a will of its own.

"I trust you'll remember this if you ever think about trying to escape justice again. The next one," he reached out; Suki flinched in spite of herself, but he only tapped her cheek, "goes on your face."

The crowd, by now, was slowly dispersing; the show was over, after all. The man straightened, and turned to his subordinates. "See that she gets back to where she belongs."

And that was approximately when complete and utter chaos broke out.

She was at the wrong angle to see where exactly he came from—all she knew was that one second, the guards were moving towards her, and the next they were knocked back by a whirlwind of flame. Twin swords flashed, and just like that the shackles had fallen from her limbs, sliced through as neatly as if they'd been made of parchment.

Even before she saw his face, makeup now smudged and running with sweat, Suki knew who it was: right now, she only had one ally who was close enough to have reached her in time.

"Can you walk?" Zuko shouted back to her, not looking away from the soldier whose sword he was parrying. Color her impressed: swords weren't her weapon of choice, but she knew skill when she saw it.

"I'm a little wobbly," she confessed. She had at least managed to push herself to her feet, but still had to lean on the raised wooden structure she'd recently been chained to to keep herself upright. Yeah, she had still not completely recovered from her earlier drugging.

Zuko swore, and she couldn't blame him. With Suki out of commission, that meant he would have to watch her back as well as his own—and the soldiers, having recovered from their initial surprise, were rapidly getting bolder. Suki recalled vaguely that the bounty for a single escaped prisoner of war wasn't even a tenth of the price that Zuko had on his head, and the man who'd burned her was now grinning as if he'd just been gifted his pick of the royal treasury. With the price he'd get for turning both of them in, he might as well have.

"Here!" Zuko yelled. Suki had recovered just enough of her reflexes to catch the thing he tossed at her between one sword swing and the next: a small, hard object that smacked into her palm with a slight sting. She didn't manage to get a proper look at it before she caught movement out of corner of her eye and whipped around to face the source of the danger, using the now-defunct chains to knock a dagger out of the hand of a soldier who thankfully wasn't a firebender. Only after he'd staggered back, clutching his broken hand to his chest, did Suki have the luxury of uncurling her fingers to get a look at what she had in her hand.

It was the bison whistle.

Of course. Aang had insisted they take it with them when they left, "just in case". At the time, it had seemed laughably paranoid. Now, Suki thought she would never doubt him again as she lifted it to her lips and blew.

If they'd had to keep fighting indefinitely, she knew, it would have been only a matter of time before a lone swordsman and an injured and heavily drugged warrior were overwhelmed by sheer force of numbers alone—but there was just no arguing with a ten-ton bison. Appa, who was most strongly attached to Aang but had a strong protective streak toward all of his humans, crushed the platform and blew their attackers away with his tail in short order, buying them enough time for Zuko to leap into the saddle and pull Suki in after him.

She was still off-balance, and he didn't have the luxury of being gentle. Suki still couldn't hold back the hiss of pain as she tumbled into the saddle, and as the earth fell away beneath them, she curled into herself and cradled her injured arm against her chest. Though she'd managed to forget the pain in the rush of battle, if anything it hurt even more now that they were out of danger.

"Suki?" Zuko had tied off the reins, and was now looking back at her with concern, taking in her defensive posture and evident pain. "Oh Agni, did they…?"

Right at the moment, Suki wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and stay there until they got back to the Western Air Temple and Katara's cool, healing water. Looking at Zuko's face as he wiped off the last of the makeup, though, she thought that if anyone would understand, he would. Slowly, she forced herself to relax from her balled-up posture, and stretched out her arm.

Zuko hissed in empathy when he saw the brand. This was the first time Suki had gotten a good look at it herself: a stylized flame, outlined in char marks and swollen, angry skin. The mark of the Fire Nation, etched onto her skin for all time and for everyone to see. Difficult to cover. Impossible to remove.

"I. Um." Zuko reached out as if to offer some sort of comfort, but then seemed to realize that he didn't actually know what to do and rocked back on his heels instead. "I've got some stuff that can help. If you want."

"Do you actually know what you're doing?" she inquired as he dug into his bag and pulled out a couple of objects for her inspection: a jar of burn ointment, and a roll of bandages.

"For burns?" His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. "Yes."

Suki hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged and scooted over until she was within reach. Even supposing that he was exaggerating his own expertise, short of purposefully burning her again, she didn't think there was much Zuko could do to make this worse—and even supposing he did manage to find a way, well, Katara was less than an hour away.

While he went about cleaning the wound, and then dabbed ointment over the brand with surprising gentleness, Suki did her best to distract herself from the pain by filling him in on what had happened while they'd been separated. Though Zuko didn't offer much by way of a response, she could tell he was listening.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, as he was wrapping a bandage around her arm. "You didn't deserve that."

"I know." Suki sat back from him, drew her knees up to her chest, and didn't say anything more. Though it hurt a lot less now that it had been treated, the pain was still there, and she didn't think it would be going away any time soon.

For a long time after that, neither of them talked. Suki was the one who broke the silence.

"We still don't have any new clothes. The seamstress was the one who ratted me out. And I already spent all of the money you gave me."

It was such a stupid detail to fixate on, all things considered—but Suki had so been looking forward to reclaiming some part of her life. Instead, what little control she'd managed to gain since getting out of prison had just been ripped away from her in the most brutal way possible.

"We'll figure something out," Zuko said firmly. "Have Katara or Sokka go get something for us. We shouldn't be stuck wearing those rags until the comet comes."

"Yeah," she teased, "I imagine that's quite the comedown from your usual princely silks."

If he noticed how shaky her voice still was, he gave no indication. Instead, she was rewarded with that small, barely-there smile that she was quickly learning was the norm for him.

Later, she'd have to ask Katara to heal the burn, as much as it could be healed. Later, she'd have to figure out what to do about the inevitable scar. Right at the moment, though, Suki felt too empty and drained to do any real thinking, and wanted nothing more than to just rest.

Well, she figured, there was nothing stopping her. Zuko had come through for her once today; she was pretty sure she could trust him to do so again if the need arose. So, she curled up right there in the saddle, closed her eyes, and gave in to the exhaustion that she'd only just realized was dragging her down.

She retained just enough awareness to feel the blanket being draped over her right before she drifted off.

A/N: The specific combination of characters that Python spat back at me for this one meant I ended up with a few fun logistical problems to work around, starting with how the flip Suki is recognized but Zuko isn't. The makeup is an idea that came to me on the second draft; I figured that if anyone is good enough with makeup to cover up Zuko's scar, it's probably Suki. (And yes, Sokka totally still has both the makeup and the dress. Did you see him getting an opportunity to go back and return them?)

Second logistical problem is, given how skilled Suki is in combat, how she gets into a situation she can't get out of on her own. So I decided to take a leaf out of my own book regarding not giving characters a life-threatening head injury and treating it as a minor inconvenience, and turned to drugging as a plausible explanation.

Though I wouldn't exactly want to rely on Zuko for healing in most circumstances, we do have canon evidence that he at least knows how to treat burns, given that he treated Iroh's burns after Azula's sneak attack and Iroh seems to have recovered just fine.