Zuko got up from bed and walked down to the prisonhold. Katara lay in the corner, arms wrapped around the bandage around her waist, where Zuko had burned her. She shivered. Zuko looked into her face and felt a strange longing. He walked back up to his room and ran back to the prisonhold. He slid the barred door open, brushing away a cobweb as he walked to Katara's cold figure. Under his arm, he held a wrapped up blanket, and in his hand, he held a small dripping rag. Katara's eyes opened weakly, though her sight was still a little dim. She could still make out Zuko, leaned beside her. She felt the bandage being unwrapped, the wet, warm rag being rubbed over her burn. She flinched, and Zuko hesitated. He only continued to clean the wound when her muscles relaxed once more. When he was done, he wrapped her up again, and laid the blanket over her. Katara fell asleep, and Zuko silently left.

He then proceeded to walk up to the galley to grab a bite to eat. He met his uncle in the hallway on the way there. "Where have you been?" Iroh asked.

"Uhh..." Zuko wondered what to say. "...Down in the... prisonhold?"

"The prisonhold," Iroh repeated dryly, as if not convinced.

"Umm... Yeah."

"...Nephew, what exactly were you doing down there?"

A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. But he couldn't lie. Not to his uncle. "I was... checking on the girl."

"Uh-huh." said Iroh. That went better than expected, thought Zuko, releived. Iroh settled down and poured some tea, and Zuko grabbed a piece of pork, then turned to go back to his room. Never had he felt so many emotions... Nervousness, longing, caring. Caring! He felt like slapping himself within an inch of his life for that. Never was he to be kind to a prisoner! He shook his head in self-disbelief. What was wrong with him?

Katara awoke and yawned. She decided that perhaps she should lift a hand from that bandage. It was starting to get wet from her sweaty palms. Not that it wasn't wet from being washed. She felt a fuzzy blanket over her, and welcomed how warm it was. Did Prince Zuko leave this? That mean jerk? She blinked. He washed that burn, too. The one that he inflicted; that was odd. Caring for a person you intentionally hurt. Wait, it wasn't intentional... But still. That was an odd thing for Zuko to do. ...Lighting that candle a few feet away was odd, too. It made no difference whether she suffered in the darkness or not...

Zuko returned. Katara opened her dry mouth and said, "What... are you doing here?"

Zuko didn't answer. He advanced toward Katara, with one hand behind his back. Oh, I'm in for it, Katara thought. But, instead, he scooped up the back of her head with his hand and held it up. With his other hand, the one behind his back, he held a glass of water. "Drink," was all he said. He held the glass of water up to her mouth, and Katara obeyed, hoping he wouldn't shove the glass down her throat. She'd hate that.

"Why are you doing this?" Katara whispered.

Zuko looked to the side, averting her gaze. He thought for a moment. Not turning back to look at her, he said, "I... I don't know."

He stood up, set the glass, still half-full, next to Katara, then left. He turned to walk to his room, where he bumped into Uncle Iroh, who was standing there the whole time. "Checking on her again, are you?" he said accusingly.

Zuko had to think of some excuse. "Because... The sevants are lazy. Yes. They should take better care," said Zuko, straightening his posture.

"The servants."

"Yeah."

"Since when were they supposed to care for prisoners?"

"Since... Umm... Shoot, Uncle, I dunno."

Iroh chuckled and walked around Zuko, off to the galley. "Now, to fix myself some more tea," he said to himself.