So...the whole "update every Friday" thing didn't work out exactly, did it?

In my defense, it was not ENTIRELY my fault. My hard drive decided to go out, and between figuring out that it was actually that that was the problem, finding a new one, and then waiting for the new one in the mail took some time. My dog also had a nasty tooth infection, my fiance was ill, and my child is an adorable little stinker who needs a little more of my time than an average one does. Add it all up, and my free-time account was in the negative, lol.

So, I'm sorry. I'll try and update regularly from now on. :(

Thanks to the reviewers, by the way. Feedback is the best thing for a writer, and I'm still trying to get back into the swing of things. So, if you like it, please leave a word or two; it fuels my desire to write. ;)

Time passed oddly in her little prison. Sometimes it felt as though only minutes passed while she sat there, others it felt like hours had passed in moments. It was also mind-numbingly boring.

She was leaning against the back wall of her cell, knees drawn up so she could lean on them. She was getting sore from being on the metal floor for so long, and had to keep shifting around to alleviate the discomfort. Being cold wasn't exactly helping matters either. Who would have thought that a Fire Nation ship full of Fire Nation firebenders (not there were any other kind of ship that would have them, but still) would be cold? Honestly, it just didn't make sense, and the lack of logic was starting to get to her. It wasn't as if she had anything else to occupy her mind with.

As she had said, for being a prisoner, her time in enemy hands was reminding her of her times spent in timeouts as a child. Boring.

Katara let her head fall back against the wall behind her with a thud.

"Hurry up, guys," she grumbled. "Apparently boredom is their preferred method of torture."

Feeling her stomach roll with hunger, she sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. It had been the middle of the night when she had been brought onto the ship, and while she couldn't judge how much time had passed accurately, she knew it must have been long enough to make her hungry.

But then, she'd also had a rough night; maybe that was adding to her appetite?

Just as that thought finished, she heard steps on the stairs, and tensed. Would it be Uncle Iroh with his much-loved tea, or Prince Zuko coming to try to sway her to his kill-the-Avatar cause? Katara knew that he wouldn't just give up on that, after all. But what would he do with her if he did, anyway? Katara added that worry to the ever-growing pile so that she didn't delve too deep into it.

Biting her lip as she waited, she felt tension fade from her shoulders when the person became visible. It was the old uncle, carrying a tray. He smiled placidly when he reached her cell, and carefully set the tray on the floor before sitting down himself. Katara studied the platter's contents. A teapot, two cups, a bowl of food, and a tiny plate. She tilted her head as she studied the bowl; it had rice in it, she thought, but other than that she couldn't tell what the rest was. It was all bright red from a sauce of some sort, and had chunks of things. Meat, maybe? Next, the small plate, which held a few little squares of food...covered in cream?

"You must forgive me, Katara, for taking so long to return. Selecting a meal that would hopefully agree with your palate was somewhat difficult, as was waiting for the tea cakes to finish. One cannot rush baking, after all." He gave a laugh, and passed one of the cups, now filled with liquid, to her through the slats in the bars. Eyeing it distrustfully, she hesitated, and briefly wished she could bend it's contents. Iroh smiled patiently. Did he know what had just crossed her mind? "Poisoning you would accomplish nothing. Besides, it would dishonor the tea."

He sounded so serious about the last part, that Katara found herself strangely believing him, and carefully accepted it and the food he passed through a specific slat that she figured was designed to serve that purpose. It had a little metal door, she noted, that he had to unlock to open.

Although she had taken it, she found herself tentatively sniffing her drink, and feeling oddly and suddenly relaxed once the scent hit her. It was hard to describe exactly it smelled like, but with the steam warming her face and the smell filling her nose, she couldn't help but make a little sigh of utter contentment.

So this is tea, she couldn't help but think. She thought that she might have had it during their travels through the Earth Kingdom, but it hadn't been like this. It was just so calming, and she hadn't even tried it yet. Sipping it, her eyes closed of their own volition, but snapped open when she heard a chuckle. Face flushing, she cleared her throat and tried to think of something to say.

"It's, um, it's very good." She murmured through her embarrassment. "Very, uh...soothing."

Iroh was smiling as he took a drink of his own. "Good tea can soothe even the greatest of woes, for a time, provided one allows it to." He sighed. "A lesson my nephew has yet to learn, I'm afraid. He sees tea as nothing but hot leaf juice. Such a travesty." He shook his head, sounding as if it really was something to lament over.

Katara scowled at the mention of Zuko, all serenity gone. "Your nephew has a lot of lessons to learn." She growled, glaring down into her cup, before looking at him. "Like learning that hunting people down is wrong, and so is putting them in cages and holding them against their will!" she breathed heavily after her little outburst, and watched the old man for his response.

His eyes were downcast for a moment before returning to hers. "He has learned though, Miss Katara, not to take what is not his. Especially that which belongs to pirates. As well as that all actions have consequences; especially bad ones." Iroh took a sip of his tea ignoring her dumbfounded expression. "Which is more than I can say for you."

Wanting to scoff, to defend herself, but lacking the words, she settled for huffing and taking another drink of tea. It was so warm, and made her feel as though she had a small, gentle flame inside her. It reminded her of the stones Gran-Gran would heat over a fire, then wrap in cloth and press against her middle when she had a woman's pain.

Katara set her cup down and lifted the bowl of food, peering into it. It was a little hard to do, what with her bound hands, but she managed to bring it into her lap and hold it with her legs.

"What is this?" She asked curiously, grabbing the spoon and poking at the stuff, then blushed when she realized how she sounded. "I mean, I've just never seen this dish before."

Iroh chuckled quietly, and waved her blunder away. "It is a typical Fire Nation dish. Rice and chicken, tomatoes and tomato-carrots, served in special sauce."

Still stirring around the rice, she blinked up at him. "What's in the special sauce?"

He winked at her. "It would not be special if you knew, now would it?"

Iroh was only solidifying her opinion of him; he really was a little crazy. But, somehow, it was kind of amusing as it was confusing. Did that make her a little crazy too, finding a firebender funny? Then again, she was sharing a meal with one right now. Not exactly by choice, sure, but she still could be throwing his tea and his food back in his face. No, instead she was sitting in her cell, having a conversation with him that wasn't about Avatars and wars. There hadn't even really been any yelling, besides her little outburst a moment ago. She must be going crazy. She quickly backed away from those thoughts though; they could be visited later, in privacy. When there was time and space to think of her behavior towards the old firebender.

Bracing herself, Katara carefully and with some difficulty (a lot of difficulty, actually) spooned some of the mixture up, and brought it to her mouth for a bite. The texture was nice, for both the rice and chicken. She would have thought about the flavor, save for the fact that all she could taste was fire. Choking a little, she quickly set the spoon back in the bowl and grabbed for her tea, gulping it down. Panting and fanning at her mouth frantically, she looked at the old man across from her, aghast. What had he said about the futility poisoning her?

Iroh looked rueful, at least, grimacing as he watched her. "I had hoped that it would not be too spicy for you, but now that I think of it, you have likely never eaten something akin to what we have. I even told the cook to lighten up on the spices, but apparently that didn't do much. Next time, I will ask for something simpler. Fish, perhaps?" He raised a brow at her, as though asking for her opinion, before nodding to himself. "Yes, some fish will do nicely. Familiarity might do you some good, though I am sad to say that we know no Water Tribe recipes."

Finally extinguishing the fire in her mouth, she eyed the bowl in distaste before taking it from her lap and setting on the floor. Katara looked to the little plate he'd brought, and picked up one of the little squares to examine. She didn't want to respond to Iroh's talk of serving her food from her culture, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

"I'm sure you're really broken up about it." she muttered, speaking again before he could respond to her rudeness. Katara knew she was bouncing back and forth between amiable and angry, but she didn't care. She was their captive, what did they expect? "Are these spicy too?" she inquired.

"No, they are sweet; iced tea cakes."

Remembering having something similar on Kyoshi Island, she bit into one cautiously, but then again with gusto. After that terrible "special" sauce, the sweetness was a welcome reprieve and a thoroughly enjoyed one..

Eating, she watched Iroh, who continued to sit, apparently perfectly happy to be there, in a prison hold, with her.

Mustering up her courage, she finally asked the question on her mind.

"Why are you doing this?"

His eyes widened and a brow raised. "That question can cover many things; I am afraid that you must clarify."

That question actually could mean a lot of things, now that Katara thought about it. Really, what was she asking, exactly? After a moment of deliberation she settled on her question. "Why are you down here with me?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why bring me food, why bring me tea? Why sit here with me like we're not enemies?" Voice having risen with each question, she quickly pressed her lips together, turned her head away, and tried to blink away the prickle of tears. Enough tears had been shed by her because of them, she wouldn't give them anymore. Or, at the very least not in front of them. If she couldn't have her freedom, then she could at least keep her pride.

She heard a sigh, but refused to look back at him. "I do not see you as an enemy, Miss Katara."

"Your nation does!" She spat back. So do I, the words that she hadn't actually said, still nonetheless hung in the air unspoken.

When it appeared that no response was coming, she looked back at him, and saw his somber face. "I am not my nation." He told her soberly, "Nor is my nephew, and neither are you yours."

He stood, and gathered the tray. "I shall leave you for now. I will send someone to collect that later," he gestured to her meal. "Use that to relieve yourself when you need to." He indicated the little stool with a hole attached to the wall. "Until tomorrow, Miss Katara."

Katara watched him go, wondering if she had done wrong by saying those things to him. A stirring of guilt was making its way through her; he had been kind to her, hadn't he? Feeding her, holding civil conversation with; Iroh had acted as if she were a guest. And she had thrown it back in his face…

No!

What was she thinking? He was a member of the royal family of the Fire Nation; uncle to the prince, brother to the Fire Lord! It didn't matter what he said; he was his nation. The nation that killed her mother, that scattered her tribesmen across the world, that had almost completely eradicated the Southern Water Tribe.

Iroh, Zuko, all of them; they deserved her hate. No one could fix what they had done, she affirmed, pushing the plate of treats away. Her appetite was gone, her stomach uneasy and disagreeing with the food already in it. She hugged her knees to her chest, letting tears fall, and sobs escape. No one could make everything better, could erase the past. No one could soothe the pain of loved ones lost. Not even the old man and his damn tea.

No one.

Zuko was pacing in his room, fists clenched as he marched back and forth. He should be sleeping, he'd been up almost all night, but he couldn't. His mind wouldn't let him.

He had suffered a victory, in a way. He had the Avatar's girlfriend in the brig, locked away nice and safe for when the Avatar came for her. Or rather, according to the girl, his not-girlfriend. He shook his head with a smirk at the memory of her being defensive. His usual scowl was back in place though, once the Avatar crossed his thoughts once again.

He had the girl; the perfect bait. She would gartuantee him the Avatar. His going home, the end of his banishment; it was all so close, was so near his grasp. So why wasn't he satisfied? Where was the sense of victory, the joy of the enemy's defeat?

Zuko growled in frustration and ceased his angry march back and forth. He scowled and went to bed, sitting heavily down on it.

There was no Avatar in his grasp, though. Not yet. Success wasn't his, and wouldn't be until he was home with the Avatar in hand. There was still too much time for something to go wrong. Because really, when it came to him, life always went wrong.

He just wanted to go home. He wanted his father's love, his father's forgiveness, his father's approval. He wanted his honor, his throne, his birthright.

He wanted to go home.

Burying his face in his hands, he tried to ignore the feel of his scarred skin. It had mostly stopped feeling so shocking when he touched it. He was used to it being there for the most part. That did not mean that each touch didn't evoke raw emotions in him though, didn't remind him of his failure. Most times he could push it aside, and he avoided touching it around others, but right now it was hard not to. The feelings were too close to the surface, had taken hold of his mind.

The skin was leathery, and it processed the sense of his fingers on it strangely. It was almost like he couldn't feel the touch of his fingers at all, but could tell that they were there. He couldn't really move the muscles where the scar was. His eye movement was limited to blinking, and as far as sight went, it was slightly blurred. Not gone altogether, but there was an impairment there. There were also the pains; sometimes his face would burn and ache, and he would escape to his quarters to wait it out, so as to not appear weak. He had thought that once it had healed that the physical pain would cease, even if never the mental, but that hadn't been the case. Still, he was lucky the eye was still there at all, really, he couldn't help but think bitterly. The one time that life had spared him from something.

Zuko shook his head and straitened. He was the cause of his disgrace, no one else. He had dishonored himself, and had suffered for it; his lesson had been learnt though, now he just needed to redeem himself. To prove that he was a true Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, a worthy heir to the great Fire Lord Ozai.

And he needed the Avatar to do that.

Why wouldn't the Water Tribe girl help him? She seemed to enjoy helping people. When she wasn't stealing, that was, he thought with a smirk. Everywhere the trio had been, people sang their praises. Sure, they maybe had destroyed something or caused the trouble in the first place, but it didn't matter. People loved them.

Well, more accurately they loved the Avatar; the peasants were just along for the ride it seemed like. But why, though? Why follow some goofy kid blindly? The Avatar knew only his birth element, he hadn't even begun training in the others. The next one in the cycle was—

"Water," Zuko said, his good eye widening.

Did he have the Avatar's waterbending instructor?

No, that wasn't right; the girl could barely make a puddle splash. She was just as much a novice as he was, where water was concerned. So where did that leave them? The only waterbenders left in the world were in the North Pole; the girl was the last from the South...

Zuko's eyes narrowed. Was that where they were going? To the North Pole?

Then why were they making all those stops, he couldn't help but wonder in bafflement? They had been buying supplies when the girl stole that scroll, which he understood, but Kyoshi Island? And that mining town, where the girl got herself arrested, then caused a prison break? Or when they helped that town with some violent spirit, or something?

For supposedly trying to "save the world"—he scoffed at that—the Avatar was getting distracted from that very important endeavor pretty easily. And yet again, he had two others with him that were clearly older and wiser. Yet, Zuko couldn't help but think in disgust, they were indulging a child's selfish wishes instead of trying to hurry and end a war. Zuko shook his head and got back on topic; he could ponder the stupidity of two children from a frozen wasteland later.

So the Avatar's ultimate destination for the time being was the North Pole, he now knew, but how long would it take them to get there? And when would they come for the girl, he wondered? It was her brother with the airbender, and the Avatar had a bleeding heart. He knew they wouldn't just leave her with him; a rescue attempt would be made eventually.

He just needed to be ready for it.

A knock sounded on his door, breaking his thoughts.

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal his uncle, who stepped into his room, closing the door behind him.

"Uncle, what is it?" Zuko asked, seeing that the older man wore a small, uncharacteristic frown.

He watched him stroke his beard before deciding to speak. "Prince Zuko, how long do you intend to hold that girl down there?"

"Until the Avatar comes for her." Zuko replied, even though he thought that that was pretty obvious.

"And after that?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something." Where was his uncle going with this, he thought in agitation? True, his plan hadn't actually gone past the point of capturing the Avatar other than to return home , and he had yet to even formulate an exact plan on that, he was frustratingly reminded. So, why would he have even thought of what to do with the girl?

"So there is no other reason for her being down there?"

Zuko blinked, brow furrowing in confusion. "What else would I want with some Water Tribe peasant girl?"

Uncle Iroh shrugged, one arm raised slightly with it's hand palm up. "Well, she is a pretty girl. Near your age, too, I think. Maybe younger, though, now that I think about it." Zuko just stared as a sly twinkle gleamed in his uncle's eyes. "Perhaps you should think of spending some time with her."

"Why would I want to do that?" He demanded, "She's a prisoner, nothing more! Water Tribe filth." he crossed his arms, but cursed himself immediately after doing it. Zuko knew not to appear defensive; it never boded well for him in the future where his uncle was concerned.

"Well, if that's how you feel, then I guess my suggestion that you try to win her over will be wasted." Again, his uncle shrugged. "Oh well."

Zuko's brow furrowed in a frown. "Win her over?" He echoed. What did that mean? "Wasn't that what I did by the river?" His words had been nice, hadn't they? He hadn't been ordering or yelling; wasn't that enough? He had even been willing to let her and her brother free, had promised to give back her little necklace...What else was he expected to do? Give her flowers and recite poetry? He scowled at the mental image of that.

"In a manner of speaking, yes, but you also held hostage a treasured possession of hers as incentive." Uncle Iroh replied pointedly. "I meant just be nice to her."

He could only blink at the older man as he felt his jaw slacken, the man who had willingly followed him into exile without being asked.

The man that he was fairly certain had drowned his mind in tea over the years, and was therefore not all together there anymore.

"Be nice to her." Zuko repeated flatly, hoping that he was misunderstanding. "You want me to be nice. To a girl from the Water Tribe, who we are currently at war with. Who is my prisoner because she is a companion of the Avatar." he paused, and could only hope that he was misunderstanding and that his uncle was only just a little mad and not completely, "That's who you want me to be nice to?"

Instead of launching into a vehement denial, his uncle instead nodded cheerfully. "Yes, I'm glad you understand. You shall accompany me when I bring her her next meal, and when we sit down for tea."

"I'm not going—" he tried to object, loudly and vehemently like he wished his uncle had, but the insane firebender was already through the door. "Uncle!"

Zuko growled, and allowed himself to fall back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

What had gotten into the old man?

Well, whatever the answer to that question was, he couldn't help but grimace, he did know one thing at least.

He, Prince Zuko, was not going to tea with a Water Tribe peasant.

He was not.

Iroh smiled to himself as he walked through the halls of the ship to his room. Maybe there was some hope after all. Maybe he could help his nephew change his destiny, to help his nephew make his own instead of striving for the one placed on him by someone else.

Now he just needed to get the people involved to not be so stubborn, he sighed.

This is going to take a lot of tea.

Not sure yet what the update schedule will be; school is around the corner and unfortunately it's not going to be as simple as meeting the teacher then sending them off on the bus this year like it normally is. Kiddo will be home fulltime (yay me lol) and fiance will be back to work soon. I'll do my best, to both write and post, but don't expect consistency. Pretty sure that's not going to happen.

Thanks for reading, pretty please with peaches and cream leave a review? They make me want to write more :)