Chapter Nine: Mirror Stares Back Hard

He didn't stop running until his foot caught in an upturned root.

Zuko plummeted face first into damp leaves and lay still. Squeezing his eyes closed, the prince took deep gasping breaths. His lungs were burning and the throbbing pain throughout his body was beginning to pulsate along with his heartbeat. He rolled onto his back, letting the jade encrusted dagger slip from his fingers. His right hand was stiff from holding onto the hilt, the knuckles agonizingly white. He held the hand up, in front of his face, and watched the color return to the pale knuckles.

Still breathing hard, he clenched the fist, realizing that the bandaging had come undone. Pale flesh was rubbed raw along the wrist, where the shackle had been. He suddenly dropped the hand and sighed, closing his eyes to the freckled sky that could be seen through the treetops.

Sleep swiftly undertook him, his eyes closing. Under those eyelids, he drempt of Sokka's wide blue eyes, just before he flew into the earthbender troops. Over and over again. He dreamt of the shouts following him as he ran from the meadow. He was sure Sokka had been calling back, his voice high and cracking with age. He dreamed and the creature in his stomach ate away, moving up his chest and into his lungs.

He awoke gasping for breath; one hand finding it's way onto his stomach, just to make sure there really wasn't a gaping hole there.

Zuko sighed and lay awake, watching the heavens through the trees. When he decided to move again it was night and the stars were bleakly twinkling from above the treetops. The prince felt uncharacteristically smothered beneath the foliage and sky.

Struggling against the pain that invaded his stomach, both from exertion and hunger, he sat up. The forest creaked and chirped around him. Resting for hours had cost him ground. He had definitely left a trail during his escape; if the earthbenders were tracking him they would have no problem. It was thoughtless, he concluded, it was pure adrenaline he'd run on.

He braced himself with his right arm and pushed off. Standing, he was assaulted by vertigo. Enough so, he clutched at the nearest tree trunk for support as the world turned slowly right side up . He closed his eyes and shook his head, causing the tilting world to come to a stop.

He took a shaky step forward and reached down to retrieve the dagger, setting out into the darkness. He walked in the stillness, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the trees and traveling further into the darkness.

He stopped and the noise he'd created dieing with his halt. There was no point in continuing, he reasoned. Walking had no point. He had little idea where he was. The direction he'd taken off in was unidentified; he could be on the outskirt of Bei Bian, a few miles from the ports, or somewhere else completely. Even time was lost to him.

What he needed was a safe place to finish off the night. The hollow silence would have been filled by Sokka's voice, suggesting that they move into a hollow or under a tree. Alone, the prince had little idea where to go.

He settled for the latter, finding an overhanging willow-like tree by a small brook. Under it the leaves were dry and loud, crackling under foot with the loudest he'd heard that night. After driving the dagger into the tree's trunk, he lay himself down by the tree's base, between large roots, as if they'd serve to protect him from anything detrimental. The sound of the stream was small in comparison to the beating of his heart, which seemed to rival the very leaves he lay under.

He faced a dire decision. There was a burning feeing in his stomach urging him to go back for Sokka; it was the right thing to do. The other teen had helped him, often, and the debt was still unpaid. To leave him to the earthbenders was surly death, they had little idea he was poisoned and even if they did find out, there was little they could do by the second week.

Zuko reminded himself he was also under the drug. Whatever it was it hadn't affected him yet. Sokka wasn't showing any signs. There was a small flash of hope and naivety as he wondered if Zhao really had poisoned them. Perhaps it was a ploy to catch him, just as the "lovers" accusation had…

Zuko turned his head away from the treetop. There was no sky anyway and he felt blanketed by the large tree.

There was no logical reason to go back for the watertribesman. He had the information he wanted; the Avatar was going to the North Pole. The Avatar had mastered airbending and barely started to waterbend. The monk was at his most vulnerable now, both to Zuko and to Zhao. There was no way Zuko would let the commander escape with his prize. He knew, atleast, he had more information on the Avatar. Zhao's attention was also focused on finding the banished prince, a distraction from the Avatar.

So, in all logic, there was no reason to go back for Sokka. What else, if anything, could the other boy provide?

Zuko cursed the pit of his stomach, which was welling with guilt. He cursed the fact that he knew he'd go back for the boy, if only to repay the debts he owed him and keep him as a source of information regarding the Avatar.

Zuko exhaled and rubbed the exposed skin on his arms. It was growing colder. Immediately he sent a surge of heat through himself, his veins passing the warm blood throughout his body.

Firebenders, he's always felt, were to most connected to their element and, thus, the most powerful of all benders. Fire resided inside them, the bending required calling it out and harnessing raw emotion in the flames. Firebending was a deep display of passion; whether it was the passionate hate, which Zuko often found himself dabbling amidst, or a passionate desire to attain something - another form Zuko had greatly experienced in the past month.

He was avoiding the subject at hand and caught himself. His mind was already made up, but he refused to act without rationalizations. Sokka was needed for information. Sokka was a friend of the Avatar's, close enough to be deemed important and to be considered valuable. Sokka knew the forest, and although Zuko wasn't willing to admit it aloud, he needed the other boy as a guide.

Zuko closed his eyes and concentrated on his breath. Although his position wasn't necessarily proper, he felt the fire in his chest subside and flicker. The image of a small flame in his mind forming. He concentrated on it as it grew and shrunk. Repetitive. Patterned actions. So that his emotions fluctuated with the fire and his mind was unusually calm.

Again sleep undertook him. He remembered closing his eyes to the feeling of leaves against his body. He awoke to the same, hunger gnawing at his stomach and the same fleeting feeling dancing in his mind as his dreams evaded him each night.

The world came into focus and he was unhappy to find the sun already high in its usual trip across the sky. It was nearly nine hours into the morning and he had not moved yet.

Frustrated, he stood up. Vertigo seemed to wash away much more quickly this time and he grabbed the dagger he'd driven into the side of the tree. It came without resistance and he examined it in the morning light. It was a beautifully crafted blade, most likely once belonging to an Earth Kingdom Nobel. A jade dragon's head protruded from the top of the handle, gold and green swirling down the grip and ending at the silver blade, which curved slightly inward.

The recruit who'd had it definitely did not know how to wield it. Zuko smirked and wondered if the dagger had been a present to the boy, perhaps from his father. The ensign was probably of noble blood, a youth attracted by the glory and glamour of war. The propaganda spouted on either side of the battlefield was enough to make any soldier sick. The war was reaching its apex as the summer drew nearer and each elemental nation wished to have the greater army.

Zuko turned away from the dagger and glanced at the stream. It was a shallow brook, running opposite from where he stood. Sokka had mentioned before, in one of his offhand comments that most game could be found near small streams in the early hours. Another rumble from his stomach sent the prince toward the stream.

Zuko stepped out of the willow tree, parting the long tendrils with his left hand. The sunlight was bright and assaulted his eyes, causing him to squint and shade his face with his injured hand. His muscles were tight from sleep and the new movement began to pull at them. The pain was comforting, only in the way that Zuko knew he was still alive.

The soft, familiar sound of the stream called to him and he knelt at the bank. Setting the dagger into the soft earth near him, he scooped a handful of cold water with both hands and splashed his face. He shivered instantly when the water connected with the skin. Face dripping, he scooped another handful, this time drinking. He felt it travel through his throat and into his stomach, where the ravaging creature was calmed.

Retrieving the dagger he moved upstream. The day would have been beginning pleasantly for most people, but Zuko cursed the sun's glare and tromped along under the cover of the stream's shady bank. There was little game in sight, if anything bigger had come along he was sure his footfalls had frightened it away before he could even glimpse it.

It was a gamble, Zuko thought, but if he were right the streams in this area would lead up to a large set of lakes. The lakes were just outside of Bei Bian, meaning he could, most likely find the patrol heading back to the city with Sokka. The better part of the plan was that the older captain, Yan Shi, would most likely stay behind with a few recruits and continue their hunt for the exiled prince.

He ignored the chance that he was completely lost and walking deeper into the forest. It was hard to explain, but he felt he was heading in the correct direction.

When the stream reached a bend, the banks became uncomfortably rocky - shade scant. The stream also transitioned into a nearly dead riverbed, the huge boulders forming an incline on either side of the scarce water that flowed downhill in a melodious tune. Walking on the rocks was tiring, hopping and jumping from them was worse. He suddenly thought of turning back and trying to find some other way to track the earthbenders. As if there were another option.

At noon he stopped and took another drink, contemplating his sanity. If it weren't for the information the other boy possessed, be would have headed north to the ports.

Zuko stood up and massaged his right shoulder, the muscle beginning to stitch. Something within the surrounding forest cracked and a small flock of birds took off from the treetops. Zuko instantaneously froze, his first instinct was to reach for the dagger, but on second thought he tilted the dagger on its side with a foot and slid it into the stream. No less than two seconds later, there was a rush of footsteps and firebenders appeared from either side of the riverbank.

Zuko contemplated running in the opposite direction in which's he'd come, but the voice of reason taunted him, saying there was no escape this time. Zuko tensed and took a ready position, the firebenders stayed still on either side, until a man stepped out from amongst them. Their faceless masks and ready hands faced downward, toward him.

"Prince Zuko!" the man called and motioned the other men to stand down. They did, but only enough to look less foreboding and just as dangerous. The man drew a small scroll from his belt and read, "Zuko, son of Ozai, you stand accused of treason against the Fire Nation. You have been witnessed attacking Fire nation troops, preventing them from fulfilling their duty to the Commander Zhao. You have also been witnessed having a prisoner of the Fire nation in your custody and allowing him to escape, seeing as he is no longer with you, and therefore making war against your former nation. How do you plead?"

Zuko glared up at the man. It was like Zhao to accuse him of something like this, something completely inaccurate but held a twisted shred of truth. He had attacked Fire Nation troops, but only as a self-defense. He had escaped with a prisoner, but only because Zhao had locked them together. He had lost the prisoner, but only because of the Earth Kingdom troops. He was not warring against his nation.

"I am not guilty," Zuko shouted back, his right hand sparking and smoldering in a fist. "The accusations set against me are falsified."

"Do you surrender and place yourself in our custody?"

The question burned him. He would have to give up his search for Sokka at the moment. Resisting arrest would further prove his disloyalty, but… Zuko scoffed and considered attacking the right bank in hopes of a quick escape into the woods. It was unlikely; these were Zhao's top men. They would arrest him, not matter the amount of resistance he gave.

"And I suppose if I don't, you'll take me into custody anyway?" Zuko asked sarcastically and dropped his hands. It was hard to let them approach him and roughly tie his hands behind his back with a reinforced wire-hemp rope. He glowered silently as they lead him out of the riverbank and into the left side of the forest. Looking over his shoulder, Zuko spotted a small gold glint in the river. It was the dagger, but the feeling in his stomach told him it was also hope he was leaving behind.

The firebender camp was located near the riverbed, giving Zuko the idea that they had spotted him while going to gather water. He decided it wasn't smart to listen to his gut today; it had already led him into an unwanted situation. And, surprisingly, Sokka was still heavy in his mind. The other teen's face smiling and smirking behind Zuko's vision.

"Take the prisoner to his chambers," the leader said as they entered camp. There were three tents. Two were for sleeping but the third, he suspected, was for him. There were guardposts surrounding the entire cloth contraption and as he was led toward it, men rushed to man their positions, standing tall and foreboding against the burgundy fabric. Beyond them, four komodo rhinos were corralled, their large saddles set in the shade of the trees.

"Prince Zuko," said his captor and stopped in front of him, the men guiding the prince immediately stopping also. "You are to be held here until word is sent to Commander Zhao's ship. We will begin our trek to the rendezvous point with the ship tomorrow morning. For now, enjoy your accommodations." Turning on his heel, the soldier ended his monotonous speech quickly and walked toward the largest of the tents, calling over to another man.

Zuko saw no more as he entered the tent. It was sparse inside. There was a small table and a matching rug. Bedding was further in the corner, where a small futon lay with blankets folded atop it. It would have been a pleasant welcome compared to sleeping on leaves and roots if Sokka's face didn't dance around the prince's mind, reminding him he still had to return and retrieve the other teen.

One man behind him undid the bonds and, upon taking a better look at the bandages on the prince's arms, asked, "Do you require a healer?"

The answer was a swift, curt, "No."

Nodding the man left the tent and another entered, this time holding a clean folded uniform. Zuko rubbed his wrists as the man bowed and handed him the clothing. Once Zuko accepted them, the man turned and bowed again, leaving the tent.

It was unusual, Zuko found, the formality the soldier had used was uncommon, even if the prince was the prisoner. He shrugged it off and concentrated on changing into the clean clothes. They were gray, the formal, thick under clothing to armor. He, of course, did not have the top armor, consisting of a breastplate and shoulder guards. What he was provided with was the traditional bottom part of the armor.

He finished tucking the last of the pant into his boots and folded his old cloths neatly, setting them on the floor, near the opening to the tent. The clothes were much warmer and he found himself falling under their spell, his eyelids drooping. He shook his head and folded his legs beneath him on the mat. He needed to concentrate; he needed a plan.

Meditation was hindered due to the chatter that seemed to spring from the outside camp. The rhinos bellowed and the men were quick to turn to each other, gladly discussing their final capture.

"…Caught up with General Iroh a few days ago…"

Zuko's eyes snapped open. He'd never been one to eavesdrop, but the opportunity was too great. He needed to know what had happened to his uncle and crew. Momentarily, Sokka faded from his mind and he concentrated on the soldier's voice.

"…Have you heard that Captain's speeches?"

"Yes, they're intriguing. Did you know he was in the forty…"

Zuko growled softly and tried to catch the first soldier's voice again. Instead he seemed to be hearing only the conversation between two of his guards.

"I'm not completely sure whether it's safe, I mean… you know."

"It isn't. We could all pay if it doesn't work…'

Zuko could care less for their banter. His attention was caught as someone stepped through the tent flap. It was an older man, nearly eighty judging by the lines on his face. He carried a box of supplies with him.

"Stand," he said in a superior tone and Zuko rose, glaring. The man set the box onto the table behind the prince and opened it. Inside, there were many vials, gauze, and silver instruments that Zuko chose to ignore. The man was the healer.

"Roll up your cuffs," the elderly man ordered.

"I don't need a healer," Zuko scoffed and remained still.

Weasel eyes, small and dark, glinted in the dim light. The man set down the gauze and stared at the prince with a piercing glare. "You can do this the easy way or the hard way. Must I call for some men to hold you down like a common hooligan? Either way, I don't care."

Snorting in indignant response, Zuko rolled up his left sleeve. He had difficulty with the right, but it mattered little, because there wasn't any damage there. The other man drew a thin blade and cut away the old gauze, mumbling how the wrapping was flawed and such. Zuko got the distinct impression the man did not want to be anywhere near him.

It was an interesting thought that occurred to him while standing and waiting for the old healer to finish up. The old man was born without an element in the time of war, when the war was young and fresh. When the war may truly have held a promise of glory and a citizen of the Fire Nation without power was often given such a task. Most were grateful not to work in factories or suffer banishment, but this man was old. He had lived through many deaths, seen many die - many in his care. He'd seen the brutality of earthbenders and powerful water benders. Thus, he was loyal to the Fire Lord out of spite for the opposing nations.

It was the new generation that was finding the true nature of war much sooner than the past had. He and Sokka were among those youths, and it was these people who were beginning to realize the extent to which this war would push the world. People like Heika, willing to risk their existence for a hope. For their prince. Because they knew, and felt Zuko also knew, the war would only lead to the end.

A sharp pain in his arm snapped Zuko's attention back to the healer. The man was examining the bone, tutting to himself as he shook his head.

"What is it?" Zuko asked with a raised eyebrow. The man's expression wasn't a good sign.

"Nothing," the man said coldly. "Nothing. Just a normal break." Zuko scowled darkly, at the other. Inconsiderate bastard.

The man dropped Zuko's arm and the prince hissed in pain, air escaping through his teeth. He instinctively caught his injured arm and pulled it closer to his side, glaring that the healer. The man didn't seem to notice and rummaged through his supplies, muttering. He glanced up darkly and said, "I need thicker gauze."

"Then go get it," Zuko instructed angrily. The man was testing his nerves.

"Don't think I'll obey you," the man spat. "Little traitor." Nevertheless, he made his way to the flap of the tent and left, grumbling all the while.

Zuko watched him leave silently; hoping the increased temperature in the tent was giving him the message. He spent a few more seconds glaring at the spot where the man had disappeared before turning away. Immediately, his eyes fell on the open supply box. Gingerly, he let his arm go and, with his right hand, reached down to riffle through the small vile casings. There were various poisons, most of which Zuko had heard of. His fingers stopped on a single vile marked "general - antidote".

Stealing was never something the prince had enjoyed. He took no honor in the act, but reminded himself the antidote was what both he and Sokka needed the most at the moment - other than freedom, of course. Picking the vile up, he slid it into the back of his boot, grimacing at the dishonorable feeling spreading throughout his being. It was necessary, he reminded himself.

The flap flew open before he could finish through the box for another vile. Zuko finished stuffing the vile into the back of his right boot and glanced up at the man, giving him a questioning look. Suspiciously, the elder made his way to his supplies and checked them quickly. He turned back to Zuko and motioned for the prince's arm.

Reluctantly, Zuko complied and raised his left arm. The man quickly set new splints and bound it begrudgingly. Finishing the task with a grunt and quick tight tie, the man turned away from the prince and began to put away his supplies. As if someone was forcing him to, the healer said, "Don't apply pressure. The break is clean but you risk shattering more bone."

Then in a dramatic turn, the man closed the box loudly and scooped it up, headed for the door. Zuko watched him leave with the same intensity as he had the first time.

Time slunk by and the prince found himself laying on the futon, staring into the top of the tent. The prattle of the guards caught his attention occasionally but his mind was intent on finding a way out of the camp. He was trapped. If he were to escape he would only fortify the accusations and give Zhao the chance he needed to truly deem the prince a traitor. If he stayed, Sokka would die and he would be carted off to Zhao's harbor, where he would undergo judgment and - most likely - lose.

He would not see Zhao again under such circumstances.

As if to reinforce the thought, there was a clap of thunder and the rain came pouring down. The sky rumbled and fell onto the encampment in full force. There was a familiar feel to the draft of cold air that seemed to shoot through the tent and Zuko's thoughts turned back to Sokka and the pine. He did not want the boy to die.

The situation remained the same until a wet soldier came forth, caring a covered plate. Zuko did not realize he had entered until another colder draft flew through the tent and hit him. He sat up and found the man placing the plate on the small table. With a curt nod, the soldier turned away and closed the flaps.

There was a moment of hesitation as he stared down the plate containing a bowl of soup and a large piece of grilled meat. Reluctantly, he gave into his stomach and started on the soup. Fresh, warm food was a joy to have but he had enough self-restraint not to eat like Sokka. Instead he reminded himself this was the last warm meal he would have in a long time. He would escape the camp tonight, in the rain.

Once the soup was downed and the meat was pulled from the bone, Zuko focused on the task ahead. He was aware the guards had not switched in the past four to six hours, meaning they would soon. He couldn't wait that long. It was best to take out a tired guard before the refreshed one came to relieve him.

Thunder shook the earth and the rain continued beating down. Zuko shifted his position and stayed at the foot of the futon, his right hand unconsciously finding the vile in the back of his boot. It was burning in the back of his mind, it had been since he'd stolen it - he only chose to ignore it. There was only enough in the vile for one person.

Of course, there was the chance Zhao had used something entirely foreign. There was no absolute. Zuko shook his head and pushed the vile back into his boot. There was a more pressing matter - how to escape.

Another clap of thunder and the guard at the back of the tent jumped a bit. Zuko caught the movement at the corner of his eye. The man's head dropped a little after the initial shock and Zuko guessed he was falling into a slow, light slumber. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. Attacking a sleeping man was ideal - if not disgraceful - but the drowsy guard would do, also.

Zuko stood next to the man, close enough to touch shoulders. He could barely hear the soft inhale and exhale of the soldier over the rain. The thunder clapped and Zuko was close enough to the thick material to see the lightening flash outside. The soldier looked up again and sighed deeply, regretfully. Zuko waited, counting the seconds until the thunder began to rumble and continued to count.

Upon the thirteenth second he struck. As the lighting illuminated the sky, Zuko aimed his right fist at the soldier's temple. His fist collided with the tent and traveled into the soldier. The hit had to be precise, any mistake and they'd come in and bind him back up. It was understood that he acknowledged his defeat, but he had never verbally surrendered. It was an assumption on the soldier's part.

There was a thump and the soldier fell into the muddied grass. Zuko waited a second to see if any of the other soldiers seemed to notice, but their shadows stood still and grim. Without further hesitation he placed his hand an inch away from the thick fabric. It would be fireproof, but only to a degree. If the intensity of the flame was strong enough it could burn through.

Zuko glared and felt the room warm. There was a small fire burning intensely under his hand. The burgundy tarp was becoming black, but it showed no signs of giving in. Angered, Zuko halted the flame and grabbed at each side of the circular burn. He pulled at it and a small tear appeared in the fabric. Quickly he grabbed at the tear, pulling each side apart.

The sound of tearing cloth was lost in the rain and thunder. Zuko smirked to himself and stepped through the rip when it was large enough. Rain assaulted his face and eyes, causing him to squint at his victim. The guard was laying face down in the mud, bubbles escaping his mouth. Grudgingly, Zuko sat him up against the tent. There was no point in killing the man.

The weather was dim and dark. Zuko waited for the lightening to flash again before starting off in a jog toward the rhino corral. Under the cover of darkness he made it to the large animals. They recognized him and let out a bellowing greeting, thankfully it was lost in the wind. Zuko waited for the next flash and took off once it disappeared, Sokka's words regarding rain in the back of his head, "…it would be easier for the two of us to move than an entire troop, especially through the undergrowth… and if they wanted to take the rhinos. Heh."

Zuko slinked into the woods and doubled back, ducking under the brushwood and low handing branches. He would continue with the regular plan, following the river. Breath caught in his chest as he traced the familiar trail back to the riverbed. It wasn't acceptable on his part. Escaping like a fugitive… but if that was what Zhao had turned him into…

Zuko's thought's stopped as he reached the river. It was substantially wider than he remembered, but the current wasn't strong. He trudged through the water; thankful it was ankle deep and found a recognizable area illuminated in moonlight. The dagger didn't glint in the moonlight; instead it shined with a different sense of prominence. Zuko had found it wedged against a rock and pulled it out of the water.

Turning toward the black forest he slid the dagger into the belt and shook some of the water from his hair. He was drenched but his bending was keeping him warm enough. So, walking with the dagger at his side and the cure in the back of his boot, he set off to find Sokka.

To Be Continued In…

Chapter Ten: Heart Scarring Darker Still

Sokka's feeling of betrayal leads to further complications when Zuko shows up to rescue him. And what about the antidote?

[edited 03.15.2009]