Disclaimer: Is there an echo in here?

AN: ...Yeah, I said I wouldn't update until Saturday (you've got to wait until next week for more) but I'm not feeling well and I've got writer's block, so you get another chapter. Screwy world, isn't it? I hope a few good reviews will help to unblock me...

Oh yes, and so you know, between school, work, church, and homework, I'm getting by with about three hours of sleep every night. I've already gotup to chapter9 written(thank the heavens for summer vacation)but after I post it, I may take a while to update. Which is why I'm staggering my updates as it is. Hopefully, by that point I'll have gotten some more down.

Also, for all of you wonderful people who actually read the author's notes, I have another poll for you:

I'm revising EfaP (during lunch, because I've got nothing better to do). Should I keep Zuko's past the way I wrote it, or alter it to fit the show? My guess was pretty close to reality, but accuracy (or lack thereof) matters for... future stuff. cough...

Chapter 6

Katara was jerked from sleep as a rough hand clapped over her mouth.

A second hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her from the ground. She tried to cry out, to struggle, to make some noise and wake up Aang and Sokka and Zuko. But her captor was too fast, now dragging her away from the campsite despite her protest. She clawed at him and bit the hand that was over her mouth. It was jerked violently away, allowing her to make the slightest noise, before it was clapped over the back of her head, pressing her face into a mass of leather and the dark fabric of a shirt. It was warm, it smelled of mildew and sweat. She recognized that scent.

Jet.

He looped the other arm under her knees and picked her up, carrying her away while she pounded on his shoulders and chest, attempting to make muffled demands to be put down.

After what seemed an eternity, he obeyed.

Jet lowered her to the ground in what would have been a graceful maneuver, had Katara's struggles not unbalanced her, sending herself tumbling across the ground.

"You can stop now," Jet said gently, rubbing a bruise on his arm from one of Katara's assaults. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Really?" she snapped, rising to her feet in a rage. "Then why did you take me here? How dare you take me away from my friends?"

"I didn't. I'm trying to help you, Katara. To protect you."

"From what?" Katara demanded. "From the Fire Nation? Sorry, but I think I'll deal with that on my own."

"Katara-"

"Leave me alone, Jet!"

"Just let me explain," he said, maintaining his smooth calm, stepping closer to her, his arms outstretched as though to show he was harmless.

"No thanks. I've had enough lies from you." She turned and began walking through the trees. She had no idea where she was going, and would most likely get lost in the dark. She knew, but she didn't care. Anywhere was better than here, with him.

"He's using you, Katara!" Jet tried again. She froze, suddenly furious.

"How dare you-You don't even know what you're talking about!"

"His name is Zuko. He's the Prince of the Fire Nation. The future ruler of the people who killed your mother. And he's been banished until he brings Aang to his dear father." Katara opened her mouth to protest. But she couldn't argue with what she knew to be true. Jet continued: "Nine weeks ago, he gave you food when Appa was hurt." Katara spun on her heel. Her entire body had suddenly become cold.

"How did you find out about that?" she demanded.

"Later, he talked you into spending a month with him on that ship of his."

"He did not! I convinced him to do it. I did it to save Aang!" her face was pale now.

"He just made you think that it was your idea, Katara," Jet said. His voice was soothing, full of comfort. And pity. "He's been manipulating you the entire time. He's using you to get at Aang."

"That isn't true!" she cried, backing away from him.

"That isn't all," he continued, coming ever closer. "He knows you care about him. He knows you'll forgive him for anything."

"Shut up!" He stepped omenously close, gently taking her shoulders in his hands.

"He watches you while you bathe, Katara. And he does things to you while you're asleep. If you stay with him, you'll only get hurt."

"Like you hurt me?" she demanded. She felt as though she was being force fed poisoned wine. There was no way to drown out his voice. No way to make him stop.

She pushed against his chest, but he wouldn't release her.

"Katara, what I did was wrong. I know it. And I'm sorry. And that's why I can't just look the other way while he uses you like this. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you. Please, Katara."

Jet suddenly wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close, tangling his hands in her hair as he kissed her.

Zuko's blood froze in his veins. He wanted nothing more to kill Jet, to cut him to shreds and watch him burn. He wanted to make him suffer for touching Katara.

But his legs felt like lead. He was rooted to the ground, helpless, freezing to death while she was in the arms of another man.

He felt horror. Anger. Grief. Rage. And cold, empty nothingness as he tried to push the image from reality. As he tried to wish the scene before him into lies.

Please, Katara. Please no. Don't let him do this to you. Please.

Get away from her, you monster. Don't touch Katara. I should have killed you when I had the chance. Get away from Katara.

Katara's leg shifted. Her foot crept up slowly, almost imperceptibly.

Jet cried out as she slammed her heel fiercely on his foot. Katara used the moment's shock to pull away from him, a furious glare on her face.

"Don't ever-" her words cut off, her entire face jerked to the side as Jet struck her across the cheek.

Zuko's heart resumed its beat.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" he roared, drawing his swords. He couldn't use Firebending. He wouldn't risk hurting her.

Three more rebels sprang from the trees, but Zuko dodged past them. They didn't matter. He had only two goals: save Katara and kill Jet. Nothing else mattered. He lunged forward, his blades poised for the boy's throat-and suddenly it was Katara's frightened face before him. He stopped short, twisting his hands to the side so the blades wouldn't cut her.

Jet had twisted Katara around and now held her by the hair at the nape of her neck. Her head was pulled violently back, exposing her throat, as he pressed a long dagger against the unprotected skin. She tried to struggle, but couldn't break free of his grip. Zuko moved as quickly as a snake, moving around Katara to slash at her captor from the side-but his opponent turned, once more dragging her to stand between them.

"Take another step and she dies," Jet snarled. Zuko raised his sword defiantly, about to leap to another attack. Jet's dagger flashed, and Katara gasped. A thin line of blood appeared across her neck.

Zuko's hand dropped instantly. He was fast. But he wasn't swift enough to save her from that blade.

"Get away from her," he said again.

"Drop your weapons." Reluctantly, Zuko obeyed. Jet jerked his head, signaling the three other rebels.

"Don't hurt her," Zuko said. He was half commanding and half begging now. One of the rebels, a huge one, built like a bear, barreled into him, throwing him to the ground. Zuko tried to roll away from a second assault, instinctively moving one hand to send a fiery punch at his attacker.

And then he caught sight of Jet, glaring coldly at him and adjusting his grip on his prisoner. His meaning was clear: if Zuko fought back now, Katara would be killed.

He dug his hands into the ground and braced himself as the blows rained out.

He wouldn't cry out. He wouldn't flee. There was worse pain than this. There were worse things to lose than his health. Only the sharp hiss as he sucked in his breath revealed his torment. One of the smaller rebels took out a knife and slashed against his back.

Zuko heard Katara cry out, and immediately his head snapped up, desperate to see if she was hurt. Jet had loosed his grip on her hair, grabbing her arms instead, though the knife never left her throat. She was staring down at Zuko, horror and remorse falling like rain from her eyes.

"Stop this, Jet," she begged, struggling against her captor, despite the steel that dug into her throat. "Please stop this."

"No, Katara," Jet said coldly. "He has to die."

"No! Please...please stop it. Please. I'll do whatever you want. Just stop it. Leave him alone." She was sobbing now.

Zuko stared up at her. His vision was swimming, but he could still make out the blood dripping from her throat. Yet she wasn't even concerned about that. She was worried about him. Crying for him.

A slight smile flickered across his lips.

In all of his memory, nobody else had ever shed tears on his behalf.

"Do you mean that, Katara?" Jet asked, staring in disgust at the fallen Prince. She nodded, trying to add another plea, but choking on her tears.

No...Katara... Zuko's mind was reeling. He felt like he was looking up at her through a thick fog. You don't have to do that. No...

"Whatever you want. Just stop hurting him."

I'm so sorry, Katara. His head fell forward as the last remnants of consciousness left him.

Katara stared emptily across the room at Zuko. The gashes on his back had been cleaned and wrapped, as had the cut on her throat. But he still hadn't woken.

He was still alive, though savagely injured and bound with iron chains. He was a prisoner now. A hostage, kept only to make her cooperate.

She winced. What exactly did that include? What was Jet planning? Another flood? Some kind of raid? Did he plan to use her against Aang?

"I'm sorry, Zuko," she said quietly, though she knew he couldn't hear. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Her wrists were tied together, as were her ankles, though the gesture was unnecessary. She was too dizzy from shock and blood loss to try to escape just yet.

And even if she could, she wouldn't leave without Zuko. She wouldn't leave him at the mercy of this madman.

Jet pushed aside the door flap as he entered the room. He shot a venomous glare at Zuko before turning to Katara.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, his voice sweet and kindly. Katara didn't look at him.

"You can skip the charade, Jet. If you cared how I felt, you wouldn't have slit my throat to begin with."

"Katara, I didn't want to hurt you. I really wish it hadn't turned out like that." He spoke to her as though she was a naughty toddler. "But he forced me to. He would have killed us all. Try to understand."

"There's nothing to understand," she said. Jet sighed mournfully.

"It's all right, Katara. I know what you're dealing with. He's been feeding you lies. He's been toying with your mind. But you're stronger than that. I know you are. You don't have to listen to his propaganda."

"The only one spouting lies here is you."

"Think about what I said, Katara. He's no good. Especially not for you."

"Since when do you decide what's good for me and what isn't?"

"Sokka doesn't like him either, does he?" Katara's eyes flicked to the side. It was true.

"Sokka was the one who invited him."

"But does he trust him? Does he like him? Is he happy that that monster is staying with you?" Katara didn't answer, though her silence spoke volumes.

"Your brother is pretty smart, Katara. He's got good instincts. And he can see that slimeball for what he really is." Katara grimaced. She'd had more than enough of this.

"What do you want from me, Jet?" she asked. He knelt by her side and cupped her face in his hand.

"For now, I just want you to think about what I've said." Without another word, he stood and left the room.