This food was really… really… very good. Mother would want him to compliment the cook. Probably. But Father would say it was the cook's job to make good food so there was no reason to flatter them. You only really needed to talk to someone if they did something wrong.

Azula would burn it and demand a new bowl just because she could.

Zuko finished the food but was too tired to get up again. It was just so much effort. Maybe he could just fall asleep in here. That would be good right? Probably not- Uncle would get worried if Zuko wasn't back before he woke up.

Disappearing would make Uncle sad. Probably. Uncle did seem to like him, otherwise he wouldn't have gone with him into banishment.

Zuko forced himself to his feet and the room seemed to fuzz. His back was starting to hurt again to. He liked it a lot better when it didn't hurt.

He needed… needed to get to the door. Probably. Everything was so grey in here. Except the people. They were red. Except for the faces. They were skin colored. But if the red fires got to their faces then their faces would be as red as the rest of them. It would hurt but they would be red, they'd have a sign like the fire nation insignia branded to them forever. But branding a person wasn't a nice thing to do. Because it burned and burned and burned and kept burning even when the fire was gone.

He finally found the door and started to walk towards it. Just one step at a time. He could make it back to the infirmary and sneak into bed before Uncle figured out he'd been gone. But when Zuko pressed his foot to the floor the floor didn't seem to want to stay in place. It started moving towards him. Very fast.

It wouldn't burn though, it wasn't red. Or orange. Or yellow. But neither were hands and they could be red just like that.

Someone caught him. Zuko wasn't sure who, but they were careful to catch him by the stomach and leave his back alone. They lifted one of his arms over their shoulders and the floor stopped moving. "That's nice," he found himself saying, "You made the floor stop moving. It was going to hit me. And then it might've started on fire. Because you can never really know when things are going to start on fire. It's grey so not very red. But hands and faces aren't supposed to be red either. But sometimes they are." He nodded.

The person who'd caught him said something, but he couldn't catch what it was. Zuko tried to twist to look at them but that made his back hurt. Why did his back hurt? That didn't make any sense.

"Do you know why my back hurts?" he whispered to the person beside him. He had to say it quiet otherwise Azula might hear. Then she'd make fun of him for forgetting.

This time the voice seemed to come through. "You are really out of it aren't you." The voice sounded amused and almost apologetic.

Zuko nodded though. He was out of a lot of things.

"How did you ever manage to get banished for cowardice?" the man muttered.

Zuko tried to stop moving so he could think, but the other person kept walking. Zuko stumbled, but not much more than he'd already been doing. Zuko sighed. "Everyone was being stupid. They just wanted to… well maybe they didn't want to be stupid but they were anyways. And then I didn't fight and he kept saying to fight. But I didn't. Not fighting hurts. And I got banished. And he sends me letters sometimes, casualty reports for the 41st. There's only five left now. The rest of them are all dead. All dead. There were lots and lots of them who weren't dead at first and now they are dead."

Zuko stopped talking after that. He was having to focus too much on putting one foot in front of the other. He was leaning on the other person way too much. But he needed to stand up and fight because kneeling down didn't work. And then he was at the door to the infirmary and he had to be quiet or he'd wake uncle up. He made his arm fall from the other man's shoulders and slid the door open. You had to go real slow the first inch, then wrench it the rest of the way or it would creak. He stepped lightly across the room. Uncle was still asleep- that was good. Zuko lay down on the bed- not his back- his back hurt- his stomach was safe though.

But his face would hurt if he put the burning side down because it was still delicate- no, too ugly to be delicate- fragile, it was fragile, and it would scar bad but even worse if he did stuff to it.

Zuko closed his eyes and slept.

Akimo closed the infirmary door as softly as he could behind him. Apparently, the prince hadn't been lying about being good at sneaking, even when he was half dead to the world.

That door trick had been… interesting. Akimo would have to try it out sometime.

The general left the sickroom a couple hours later, still looking tired but much better than he had before his nap. None of the crew saw fit to tell him about what Zuko had done while he was sleeping.

Zuko was sleeping again, lying on his stomach with the scarred side of his face up. "How's he doing?" Akimo asked.

The general looked at him, seeming almost surprised. "Much better." He said, smiling. "Thank you again for the painkiller. It was very helpful."

Akimo nodded his acknowledgement. Then he waited, silent. The general was also silent and the silence stretched taught. "Why'd he do it?" Akimo whispered.

The general had a very good innocent face. And a very good fat-friendly-old-man face. Right now, his face had the gentle look he reserved for when Zuko did something he was proud of. "Zhao hates Zuko and enjoys hurting people. When you attacked Zhao, you gave him an opportunity. Zuko has tried to save people in the past, and they died anyways. It hurt him. Zhao was going to kill you. He'd bribed the doctor on duty to let the lashing kill you, then make your death seem an accident. I bribed the doctor better to let you live. Unfortunately, Zhao found out and found, switched doctors and threatened Mushi. Mushi would have let you die. I'm not sure how Zuko knew that it was the wrong doctor… but he knew that Zhao couldn't kill him in a whipping "accident" like he could a regular soldier. So, he volunteered."

…he sends me letters sometimes, casualty reports... There's only five left now. The rest of them are all dead. All dead. There were lots and lots of them who weren't dead at first and now they are dead.

"The letters he gets," Akimo said softly, "They aren't letters at all. They're casualty reports."

The old general sighed softly, rubbing his forehead. "Yes," he said, "For the 41st division."

Akimo could tell there was more to this story, much more. Zuko's answers hadn't been particularly coherent, and the general wasn't much better. He felt it best not to pry. Perhaps someone else in the crew knew more.

So Akimo nodded to the general and backed out of the infirmary. He had work to do.