Shattered

Chapter Nine

Katara pulled the pot of water off the campfire and carried it over to Appa's side. Sokka watched nervously from the front of the large bison, his hands firmly gripping the reins. Katara set down her burden and looked at her brother. "Are you ready?" she asked.

Sokka swallowed hard and looked up into Appa's big round eyes. "Alright Appa, this may hurt a little; just remember that we're only trying to help." He tightened his grip on the bison's reins and nodded to Katara. "Ready."

Katara concentrated on the water. She moved her arms and hands fluidly and the water followed. Streaming the warm water into the air, Katara directed it into the still oozing wound on Appa's side. With a roar, Appa made a bounding leap, tumbling Sokka ass over head backwards as he moved. The flying bison landed a good twenty feet away, turning to lick at his side.

"Oh no! Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Sokka sat up and rubbed his head, "I'll be… fine?" Sokka's eyes rolled skyward as his sister rushed past him and to Appa's side. She stroked the bison's long shaggy fur. "I'm so sorry, Appa. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Sokka picked himself up with a groan, muttering softly to himself. "Yeah, okay, don't worry about me. It was only a ten ton tackle, that's all. I'll be fine." He knocked it off when he saw his sister's face. With unshed tears rimming her eyes, the waterbender looked at him with anguish. "Sokka, he's not getting any better, he's getting worse. What are we going to do?"

Sokka rummaged around in their meager belongings until he pulled forth a map. "I think we need help."

With a grunt, Anko sent the sharp teeth of the bow saw flying across the thick branch. The past two days had been dedicated to this, the clearing of fallen trees from the upper field. One by one, all of the smaller trees had been transformed into firewood. Now all that was left was a massive hickory, a tree so mighty that Anko couldn't reach around its trunk, with branches so thick that they put some of the trees she had previously cleared to shame. Her body occupied by the monotonous physical labor, Anko's thoughts turned to the mysterious Fire Nation teen residing in her house.

The past two days had been relatively peaceful. The only contact the boy had made with a knife was when he had found her Grandfather's straight razor and meticulously shaved both his head and his face, leaving only the longish tail of hair at the back of his head. In Anko's eyes it made him look even younger than before. The teenager had been exhausted by the outpouring of both emotions and blood, and had been sleeping a lot as a result. Despite the setback, his eyes showed a lucidity that had been missing before and his balance was returning.

Anko had already pulled out the stitches from his head, a couple of more days and she could do the same for those on his wrist. And then I can declare him "healed". Physically at least, mentally on the other hand… Whatever burden had caused the teen to place a knife at his own wrist hadn't gone away and there was very little she could do. Zuko wasn't talking about it and Anko, not wanting to pick at such raw wounds, hadn't asked him any personal questions. She had made some educated guesses though. At any rate, all would be revealed whenever his uncle showed up, although Anko wasn't sure if she'd be there to see it.

Thus far, Zuko had given no indication as to whether or not he planned to stay, or return to Yopoko village. Anko guessed it would be the latter. The boy had been very cooperative with her treatments and she could only assume it was because he wanted to leave as quickly as he could. The farmer shrugged; what would be, would be. It didn't matter to her, either way.

"Zuko…"

"Father?"

"Rise up and fight Zuko…"

It was a nightmare he couldn't stop or change, no matter how hard he tried. The fourteen year old boy rose smoothly, the cloth bearing the emblem of the Fire Nation, his nation, shrugged off his shoulders to flutter slowly to the ground. He was surrounded by the warm colors of his nation, by its people, his people, all waiting to witness their Prince's first honor duel. He was young, confident, strong, and he was right. He knew he was right and the old General was wrong, and he would prove it in front of his Father, Uncle, and all of his people.

"Zuko…"

But it wasn't the old General that he faced.

"Rise up and fight. You will fight to defend your honor."

The young Prince quickly prostrated himself; he couldn't do it, he couldn't duel his own father. There was no way out, no way to change the inevitable outcome.

"Father, please, I meant you no disrespect. I am your loyal son."

His father stopped in front of him. "You, my loyal son? You who aided the Avatar; you who let him get away. Look at yourself, you are pathetic."

Zuko looked up, puzzled. This wasn't how the nightmare usually went. He looked around, quickly spotting the gloating face of Admiral Zhao. The Water Tribe siblings were there too and the Avatar. They surrounded him, smirking down at him. Where is my Uncle? Zuko thought, desperately scanning the crowd for his familiar, friendly face. He couldn't find it. His Uncle wasn't there.

"You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher."

Zuko looked back up; his Father loomed above him.

"I have no son."

Cruel, unforgiving flame descended on him, burning away the tears that streamed from his eyes. He screamed.

Anko paused in her act of loading the wagon with freshly cut logs. Puzzled, she sniffed the air. "Smoke?" Anko frowned. "Guess I didn't bank the fire well enough." She bent over to grab more logs when it hit her, she had eaten left over rice and some fruit for breakfast, there was no fire. Eyes widening with alarm, Anko dropped her load and sprinted towards her house. Sure enough, she could see a thin tendril of black smoke wafting out of Zuko's open bedroom window. "Damn you boy," she cursed, running faster.

Zuko was surrounded by a ring of fire. Every time he reached for the large shadowy form that loomed beyond the circle, the flames licked hungrily at his flesh. The Firelord's back was to him, he wouldn't even look at his son.

"Please Father; I only had the Fire Nation's best interest at heart. Please forgive me." "Wake up!" The flames grew taller; the circle closed in on him. "Wake up!" It was hot. He couldn't breath. There was no way out.

"Please forgive me," he begged.

"I'll forgive you if you wake up! Wake up, Zuko! It's only a dream; wake up!"

Zuko stirred at the female voice yelling in his ear. "Huh?" he mumbled.

"Damn it all!"

He felt himself being half dragged, half carried. The movement stopped. He forced heavy languid eyelids open only to have bright sunlight force them back shut. Zuko found himself laying face down outside in front of the stone house. Confused, he pushed himself back up into a kneeing position and looked back towards the house, just in time to see a smoldering mass go sailing through the air to land in the grass beside him. The Prince recognized his futon a second before it burst into flames.

"Oh no you don't!" The earth suddenly rose up and covered the bed, quickly smothering the fire. Zuko paid no attention; he realized what had happened. He had burned his own bed; what was he, two? He shifted his weight until he rested on his bottom and drew his knees up to his chest, burying his head in shame.

Anko made sure the futon was extinguished before turning to the firebender. He had only been wearing trousers in bed. His exposed flesh had been so hot to the touch that she had hardly been able to stand carrying him. Luckily she had made it while the futon was still only smoldering; the teen appeared to be unharmed, on the outside anyways. Already he had collapsed in on himself, so absorbed by self hatred that he hadn't even noticed her earthbending.

"Zuko? Are you alright?" Footsteps approached; he could see bare feet out of the corner of his eye. I burned my own bed. How could I have burned my own bed?

"Zuko?" The feet stopped their approach. With a slight grunt, Anko settled down in the grass next to him, just a hair out of arms reach. He didn't want her there, didn't want to hear the concern in her voice. He certainly didn't want to face her. All he wanted to do was to go to the deepest, darkest hole he could find and crawl into it. The woman's voice picked up a slightly amused tone. "Before you go beating yourself up too badly, boy, you should know that it's all in your head."

Anko watched as Zuko's head shifted slightly, his damaged eye peeked put at her from behind the protective circle of his arms. She continued on conversationally. "You know, most benders that get a knock on the head like yours, can't bend at all. But sometimes… instead of making bending impossible to do, it just makes it harder to focus and control." She gave the teen a half smile. "And it's not unusual for a concussion to make dreams more realistic and vivid. Your brain is still trying to figure out which way is up; you can't blame it for being confused."

Zuko's head popped up out of its hiding place. He regarded her with suspicious eyes. "But…" he started to argue, his hand going up to touch the newly healed wound on his skull, which was no longer stitched up and bandaged.

"It's not like a cut," Anko said with a sigh. "Think of it like a bruise. It's on the inside, where it takes longer to heal, and only time will make it go away." The farmer's head suddenly jerked up and turned. Her eyes squinted at the wagon path that came from town. "Hmph, we have company coming, boy."

Zuko followed her gaze, but saw nothing. He looked at her in confusion as she rose and planted her hands on her hips, frowning at the earth covered futon. She glanced at him and mumbled, "Well, no help for it now." Anko dropped into a stance, then taking a spinning step forward; she drove her fist straight into the ground. The soil undulated out from the impact; the futon was engulfed by the wave and completely disappeared under the now smooth sod. Zuko sprang to his feet and stared at her. "You're an earthbender!"

"Just noticing that now, are you?" Anko asked dryly, her attention focused on the hill beyond the barn again. Zuko looked up in time to see a wagon crest the hill and begin to meander its way slowly towards them.

Saki, Anko thought as she recognized the driver. I don't know if your timing is good or bad, but it certainly is interesting. Anko raked her fingers through her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ears. She observed Zuko obliquely as she did so; he stood there uncertainly for a moment, and then crossed his arms in front of his bare chest with a frown. Saki had at least distracted him from his downward emotional spiral, that was good; but for the innkeeper to come here in the middle of the day, that could only mean something bad. Anko brushed herself off as the wagon rounded past the barn and approached them.

To be continued…