A/N: Two points that I'd like you to keep in mind. One: Chapts six, seven and eight are all part of one big chapter so try not to judge one part too harshly before reading to the end of chapter eight. Two:The severity ofwhat happens at the end of this chapter most likely would not have if he hadn't been startled by the cat. And that is all I have to say about that.

Shattered

Chapter Six

Anko skillfully dodged Max's attempted nip. The mule's long ears were laid back against his head as he made another attempt. "Alright, alright. You're pissed off. I get it." The farmer swung herself over the fence and out of harm's way. "Come on Max, I said I was sorry. You have to forgive me sometime." She picked up a bucket and shook it, the contents making a familiar sound to the mule, who pricked up his ears. "I have sweet feed."

Bribery never failed. Max happily chowed down on the oats while she gave him a good scratching along his mane. While his mouth was safely occupied, she got busy giving him a thorough brushing. As caked on dirt, dried sweat and loose hair was set adrift on the breeze, Anko's eyes took in the amount of work facing her. For two full days the Fire Nation soldier had commandeered her time and attention. She had managed to unload the wagon and give rudimentary care to Max, and that was it. Now, on the dawn of the third day, she finally felt comfortable leaving the teen alone, mostly because she had given him a good dose of herbal medication last night. He was resting peacefully now, and she was fairly confident that he would remain that way for a while.

Max leaned towards her, thoroughly enjoying the overdue grooming. Anko smiled and moved on to his other side, her mind mulling over her unexpected guest. The blow to the teen's head hadn't done him any favors, that was for sure. His moments of consciousness were few and far between, and he was clearly suffering from a concussion. He was confused and disoriented; the only coherent words she had gotten from him were "Uncle" and "Father". She was almost certain that he hadn't understood anything she had said, his unfocused eyes hadn't shown any comprehension, but for the most part he just remained asleep.

Finished with the brushing, Anko gave the mule one last affectionate pat on the rump. "We probably didn't help matters much, bouncing him around in the wagon all the way from town. No wonder his brain is scrambled." Max, now full and content, responded by lifting his tail and letting fly. Anko crinkled her nose at the smell, a strong reminder that she still had a few days of fertilizer to remove from the paddock as well as many other chores. I'll check on him at noon. Then, pushing all thoughts of the Fire Nation teen aside, Anko got to work.

"Zuko…Rise up Prince Zuko…You will fight to defend your honor…"

Prince Zuko opened his eyes. The room responded by swinging dizzily around him. Feeling nauseous, he closed them again. His head pounded. What had happened? "Uncle?" he called out cautiously, his hoarse voice barely squeaking the word out. Zuko winced as he swallowed hard. He tried again, managing to make the word audible this time. "Uncle?" "Prrrip?" Zuko's eyes snapped open as a weight he hadn't realized was there jumped off of him. He managed to recognize a large feline form before the room started spinning again. With a moan, he shut his eyes.

What happened? Why can't I remember anything? Where's Uncle Iroh? The pulsing pain in his head made focusing impossible. Zuko concentrated on his breathing. Breathe in, breathe out; he centered himself on the rhythmic flow of air until the pain in his head was manageable. Cautiously he moved a hand to his head. It had been bandaged. That explained the pain as well as the prominent herbal scent to the room. He let his other hand fall off the futon. Instead of rug covered steel, his fingers touched something rougher. And it was still. Zuko frowned, where was the omnipresent vibration of the ship's engines?

Leary of opening his eyes again, he returned his arm back under the covers. Which he was starting to realize were warm and course, not the light smooth silk that he was used to. And did his ship even have a cat? Zuko couldn't remember. "Uncle?" he called again, with only silence as his answer. Something was definitely wrong.

Trying to control his rising alarm, the Fire Nation Prince once again focused on his breathing. Why did even breathing hurt? He ignored the pain, the nausea and his confusion. Only the breathing mattered. Slowly his muddled memories and thoughts gathered themselves. Evidence indicated that for some reason he wasn't on his ship, and wherever he was, he knew he had awoken here before.

Zuko could vaguely remember waking up confused, like now, and he had risen from the bed, only to fall flat on the floor. Somebody had been there…his Uncle? Zuko could only remember the hands. They were strong hands, calloused in places, worn smooth in others, just like his Uncle's. But for some reason, that didn't seem right. The hands had hoisted him up with ease, helping him back on to the futon before presenting him with something hot, strong and bitter to drink. Zuko swallowed hard again. It couldn't have been that long ago, he could still taste it in his mouth.

Impatient for more answers, Zuko cracked open one eye. When the room remained still he opened the other. He found himself staring at a thatch roof; definitely not his ship. He slowly turned his head, wincing as the pounding resumed again. He froze until it subsided, taking in the room. It was a small room, with only one window letting in filtered light. The walls were made of white-washed stone, the rough floor he had felt before was of flagstone. A lone wooden door was cracked open, the obstruction blocking his view of what lay beyond it.

Zuko closed his eyes and gathered his strength. No doubt his actions would draw a firm lecture from his Uncle, but he had to know where he was. With one smooth movement, Zuko rolled out of bed and on to his feet, swiftly staggering the couple of steps it took him to reach the door. Pushing it open, he clung to the frame as his head throbbed rhythmically and the room spun out of control. His vision started darkening around the edges as a ringing began in his ears. Tenaciously he held on to his consciousness.

Slowly his vision cleared. The room before him offered no clues as to his whereabouts; it could have belonged to any peasant. In front of him was a wooden table and chairs. In front of the nearest chair was a plate covered with a cloth and a knife. Beyond the table was a door, open to a porch and the bright outside world. Zuko averted his eyes as the sunlight made them water. To the right was a kitchen area. Stove, water pump, cabinets and a countertop; it was all pretty unremarkable. Unremarkable and unrecognizable, Zuko thought angrily. What am I doing here? A breeze blew in from the open door, tickling across his face. He closed his eyes, enjoying the fresh smell.

"Prince Zuko…you have failed all our people…" Zuko's eyes snapped open, his mind desperately trying to make the connection. Through the thick muddled mess of his brain the thought came, Air…Airbender…Avatar! The Avatar has been captured! Zhao's captured the Avatar! The floodgates open, his memory came flowing back: Zhao, the letter, his renewed banishment, the assault. Overwhelmed, Zuko staggered forward, crashing into the table and falling to the floor. He laid there, the emotional pain overpowering his exploding head. He wished for an unconscious oblivion that never came.

It hurt. Zuko curled up into a ball on the floor. It felt as if someone had stabbed him in the chest with a knife and was twisting it in him. His breathing became labored, the comforting rhythm lost to his growing hysteria. It hurt. The aching, gaping hole in his heart wailed silently at him, demanding to be filled. He had nothing to give it. No Avatar, no ship, no hope. He had lost everything, even his Uncle was gone. His Uncle! Iroh had promised to return, had given his word to come back for him. Empty words, a strange voice inside his head seemed to say. Why would he come back for a coward like you?

"He promised," Zuko gasped, trying to hold on to his one lifeline. You're a waste of his time. For two years he put up with your bratty self, and he trained you for longer than that. And how do you repay him? By letting some village nobodies beat you senseless.

"No." Liar, your father was right and you know it, even Zhao knows it. You are a coward.

"Shut up." Zhao was right about everything. Your father doesn't want you back, nobody does.

"Shut up!" Do you really think your Uncle is going to risk your father's wrath, just so he can waste more time with you?

"No, that's not true. Uncle said time spent with me is never wasted. He is coming back." And what if he does? You let a twelve year old boy run circles around you. You let a peasant beat you. Do you really think that you'll be able to accomplish another, harder mission?

"I can do it. I can change. I'll be stronger next time." And what if you are? You know your father doesn't want you. Do you really think you'll ever be allowed home? Fool. Zuko's eyes popped open; they lit upon a metallic object. The knife from the table had followed him to the floor. He reached for it reflexively. Disrespectful coward, selfish fool, traitor.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Zuko drew a long shallow cut down his forearm. As the pain shot up his arm, the voice fell blissfully silent.

He wanted it to stop. He just wanted it to end. For the duration of his lonely voyage here, and for the five endless days on the dock, the hole inside of him had grown bigger and bigger. He couldn't take it any more. The horrible heavy weight that bore down on him, the never-ending doubt, the pain of failure and rejection that haunted both his waking hours and his dreams; it all had to end. In a daze he pressed the knife to his wrist. The pressure bit into his skin. He watched with fascination as a single crimson drop discolored the silver blade and ran to drip off the tip.

"Meorw?" a muffled call came from towards the open door. Heart leaping into his throat, Zuko jerked with startlement, sending the knife deeper into his tender flesh. He gasped at the sudden, sharp pain; the knife dropping from his hand. Jerking his head up, he stared wide-eyed at the door. There was the same cat-like thing from before and in its jaws was the largest rat he had ever seen. Obviously oblivious to what was going on; the large feline dropped its sodden load, the mass of fur hitting the flagstone floor with an audible thump. Poofy red tail held erect with pride, it regarded Zuko with large green eyes.

"Meeeru!" it said demandingly. Embarrassed and angry to be seen this way, even if it was by only a cat, the Fire Nation Prince wrenched himself up into a sitting position. "Go Away!" he shouted, but naturally the cat ignored him. "Go on, get out of here!" Zuko's hand extended, fire shooting from his fist to scorch the floor beside the cat. That made it move. The large cat jumped to one side and raced to the door. It stood in the doorway for a moment, ears back and tail swishing in aggravation. Then, as if to prove that Zuko had no power over it, it turned its head and gave its shoulder a few good licks before bounding outside.

Zuko stared after in astonishment. The cat was missing a back leg. He looked at his bloodied arm; the cut at his wrist now had a small puddle of blood beneath it. He started to laugh hysterically. "Even the damn cat has more self respect than I do." Exhausted, he sunk back down to the floor, his left arm held out before him so that he could watch the flow of blood. He did so impassively; the emotional torrent was gone, leaving him with only a vast empty feeling. He felt calm now, as if it was someone else bleeding on the floor and he was only observing. He watched the growing puddle and waited; smelling the bitter metallic smell of his own blood.

He waited.