Standing Outside the Fire
Captured
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the lovely (crappy) plot and a Gaara plushie, so if you don't mind...
She's sitting alone in the dark, cramped, leaky cell. Her dress wet and cold from sitting on the damp cell floor and her wrists and ankles rubbed raw from the bindings placed on them.
The silence in the dreary room was broken by the echoing of two pairs of footsteps in the hall outside the cell and a scrapping sound on the hallway floor.
Light broke through the perpetual darkness being contained in the cell and illuminated the girl's face. With her tanned complexion, although the layer of dirt could be adding to the darker shade of her skin, and slightly bloodshot and watery blue eyes, she put on what she hopes to be a brave face.
As hard as she tried, she can't stand the shear brightness of the sudden light, she turned away, but once the door shut again she quickly turned back towards the door to see what reason the two men had come to her cell.
She caught a glimpse an item they dropped before the door was shut and locked. She saw a figure lying limp slightly curled in a fetal position. By the lack of curves she dubbed the figure a man.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness once more she attempted to investigate the man. As she scuttled forward on shaky legs she saw that his head was held by his arms so she wouldn't be able to make out his facial features without moving him. She could, however, see that his head was shaved bald except for a bit in the back that was left long and held in a ponytail.
He seemed to be shivering. She crouched and put her hand on the back of his head. He was completely soaked!
Even though she has no idea who this man is, she just couldn't sit around and let him freeze. She wouldn't be able to stand the guilt. In fact she didn't know how the people who captured he could live with the guilt or maybe they just don't care. Why should worthless water tribe peasant matter to the Fire Nation army? It just wasn't fair! She had done nothing wrong! She wasn't sure about the man on the floor, but she was completely innocent! But life isn't fair…and she had more important matters at the moment. Like the fellow prisoner lying in front of her.
She started to move her hands in an attempt to bend some of the wetness out of the man's clothes.
After that was done she decided to get a comfortable as she could with those pesky shackles on her wrists and ankles.
Come to think of it, the man's hands were tied together in an odd fashion. With his palms pressed firmly together.
With those final thoughts she drifted away into and uncomfortable, dreamless sleep.
The girl was wakened by sounds of shuffling. The opened her eyes and waited for them to clear from sleep and get used to the lack of light.
Apparently the man was awake and from the sounds of it was having difficulty getting up.
Clinking of chains was followed by a loud thump which indicated the man had fallen. She crawled over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He flinched at the sudden contact and turned around to face her. She gasped at what she saw.
"P-Prince Zuko...?
His face is marred with more then just a scar now, albeit not as permanent. His good eye is bruised and starting to swell and his lip is split and bleeding in two separate spots, forming twin streams of crimson.
He didn't seem to recognize her or he might just have not been able to make out her face with his good eye now handicapped also.
She started to back away until he winced and suddenly fell back. His back collided with the floor with an echoing bang.
Fearing he might be dead, she hesitantly walked to where he's laying on the cold cell floor. The slow but steady rise and fall of his chest indicated life and that satisfying her for the time being.
That's totally the end of that. Totally.
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