An: My exams got really intense. That's my excuse for not having this one up sooner. That, and the fact that this prompt gave me sooo much hassle. There was always the temptation to go cliché and simple and use 'Zuko just got scarred by Ozai' and rant on and on about that. But my muse refused to yield. It was all, "You actually managed to cough up something that wasn't entirely repulsive for the prompt fluffy. We. Are. Going. Original."

Not that it gave me anything original to do until yesterday. But, you know: we don't judge and all that. Right. And, just btw, the first bit of this comes straight from the episode. Maybe if I didn't get sidetracked watching the whole thing after getting the part I needed this would have been up even sooner. But can you blame me for not switching off Avatar?

I do apologise for this one because it has me butchering Iroh again. I got all confident from not screwing him up in Senses so I decided, "Let's write him again!" and I ended up… Yeahhh… Well. It could have been worse, right? (I'm sincerely hoping so.) The other thing I NEED to say is that father/son Irko is just pure love. PURE LOVE.

Deffie, TCR is nearly overdue again. And I wants me some blood. *stare*

Disclaimer: It no belonging to me.

Skin

"So Uncle, I've been thinking." The Firebender paused to pour another cup of tea, barely reigning in his desperation. He'd been thinking about how to phrase his next words since he'd found the abandoned house they currently sat in. If his uncle said no, they were doomed. "It's only a matter of time before I run into Azula again. I'm going to need to know more advanced Firebending if I want to stand a chance against her." His next words were almost rushed as his desperation began to show through. "I know what you're gonna say: she's my sister and I should be trying to get along with her…"

Before he could add his 'but' and the clever reasoning he had spent hours painfully putting together his uncle interrupted him.

"No." Relief coursed through his veins. "She's crazy and she needs to go down."

And then the impact of his words hit Zuko and a small wave of sadness and regret washed through him. If Uncle Iroh- believer in all things good to a point beyond annoyance- agreed that Azula was beyond helping then… He almost felt sorry for her. But the moment passed as he remembered all she had done and he nodded, his resolve back in place.

His resolve hardened as he watched his uncle have to struggle to stand up. The retired general's moans made his stomach grow hot with anger and his fingers curl tighter around the cup he was holding. He wanted to help but he knew there was nothing he could do. He was clumsy with that sort of thing; way out of his depth. And so he pushed the concern away and looked up curiously at his uncle, waiting to see what the man was up to that time.

"It's time to resume your training."

The younger Firebender almost jerked back in surprise. For a second he thought his uncle was telling another one of his very bad jokes, but the seriousness in the older man's eyes was enough to kill that theory at once. Zuko's expression became something like blank shock as he stared.

"Now?" Iroh raised an eyebrow. "But… But… you're hurt!"

"I'm fine, my nephew. The sooner we start the more time we have to hone your skills." Zuko's eyes slid away from his gaze to the ground, a sure sign that he was hiding something. "It was your idea to become stronger to face your sister, Prince Zuko."

"Yeah of course…"

Suspicion arose in Iroh as he stared down at his nephew. Zuko was a little too calm, a little too rational and a little too still. He had never hesitated at the offer of more training before. In fact, it had always been the opposite; he had always craved the knowledge, fought to gain it, fought to master it. Add that to the fact that his rivalry with his sister had never exactly been small and his hesitance was a worrying thing indeed. But then the younger Firebender's eyes met his again with their usual burning determination and Iroh felt the suspicion drain out of him.

However it returned in full force only moments later when Zuko seemed to struggle to stand. The ex-prince did not wince or let out a sound but Iroh knew that that meant nothing- Zuko had grown accustomed to hiding his pain. Iroh's gut clenched as he noted that his nephew was favouring his left side as he stood with his face blank of any emotion. Iroh, mindful of his injury, moved forward slowly. Zuko did not back away or shift back, two reactions that were as reflex as breathing to the boy by then. Iroh frowned.

"What's wrong?" Zuko asked him, eyes flickering outside in caution.

"I could ask you the same question, Prince Zuko."

"Nothing." The reply was far too quick.

"Prince Zuko-"

"Nothing's wrong, Uncle!" The anger was back in his eyes and his voice. But he still hadn't stiffened until he was at his full height like he usually did when he got confronted.

"Then I don't see why we cannot train shirtless."

As he had suspected, Zuko's eyes slid away from his again. "No."

"Is there a problem, my nephew?"

"No! I just don't want to train without my shirt!"

This time when Iroh advanced Zuko did step back. He seemed to sway for a moment until he got his balance again and Iroh was sure he had winced.

"Prince Zuko, remove your shirt, please."

"No."

The old general could see the defiant anger raging inside his nephew and he felt a pang of sadness. There had been so much damage done to Zuko's heart and soul. And he was so worried that not all of it would be healed in the end.

"Why won't you remove your shirt?" His voice was calm and polite; reasoning always worked.

"Because I don't want to!" And then, spat out in arrogance, "Because I don't have to listen to you!"

Iroh sighed and rubbed his bandaged shoulder wearily. Some of the fight left the young Firebender before him as his eyes flickered down to the bandages. Iroh, who still had the years of army training embedded in him, saw his chance and took it. Before Zuko could back up any farther he was right in front of his nephew, grasping hold of his tunic with his good arm. Zuko snarled and attempted to get him off but he turned his injured side in and the Firebender in his grasp stopped squirming under the threat of hurting his uncle more. Iroh yanked up the shirt and got a glimpse of Zuko's betrayed, angry eyes before a new sight drove them from his head.

Zuko's body was bruised and battered in almost every visible place. Most of the bruises were huge, grotesque things that spread around his white skin in sickening colours. The biggest ones were already yellow-green, although there were some fresh purpling ones in-between. In a sort of horrified curiosity the retired general raised one finger and lightly touched the biggest bruise, a multi-coloured monster that was the reason for Zuko favouring his left. He felt his nephew flinch beneath his touch and hastily drew his hand away.

"Prince Zuko." His voice was soft with shock. "What happened?"

Zuko ripped his tunic away and pulled it down, scowling heavily. "Nothing."

Iroh gripped his shoulder, alarmed to see that this also caused his nephew pain. "The newer ones are from Azula," he prompted, a little desperate. "But the others… Where are they from?"

"It's nothing!" Zuko snapped.

Iroh looked the young man straight in the eyes and Zuko, prideful as always, refused to look away. The silence stretched as the battle of wills continued. Zuko was the one to back down first. Iroh knew that as much as the teen pretended or acted otherwise he did care for his uncle.

"Earthbenders," Zuko mumbled. "I got into a fight."

A thousand images rushed through Iroh's head at lightning speed. Not all of them featured Zuko. The memories of the last time somebody close to him had gone up against Earthbender's made his heart thud and he couldn't help but thank the spirits that Zuko was not badly hurt.

"Did some of the rocks that hit you shatter?" Zuko nodded slowly, looking suspicious. "There will probably be some pieces of rock left in your skin. We must take it out."

He made as if to pull Zuko's tunic up again but Zuko shied away. "I'll do it," he muttered.

Slowly the ex-prince sat down again, this time wincing as the movement wreaked havoc amongst his bruises. Iroh stood quietly and watched, sorrowful at the sight that was before him. Zuko removed his shirt and then set about gently prodding each bruise to check for hidden bits of rock. A prod just a little too hard made him wince or hiss in pain and Iroh felt his heart clench each time. He wanted to help; it would be so much easier if he were the one picking out the shards so Zuko didn't have to twist his body so much. But his nephew's pride was too large and he knew Zuko would never allow him to help until he was sure there was no other way.

The retired general found himself moving closer as Zuko's breathing suddenly hitched. Before he could ask, though, his question was answered: blood began to trickle down Zuko's side from a new wound. With teeth tightly grit Zuko flicked away the small piece of rock that had been inside his flesh a moment earlier. His fingers returned to their work and the trail of blood became thicker. Suddenly the ex-prince was almost doubled over, swearing through a clenched jaw and clutching at his side. Iroh could take no more of it.

He lowered himself next to his nephew and gently pulled Zuko's hands away. Blood smeared onto his own fingers and he had to resist the urge to immediately rub every inch of it out of sight. He had to stay calm. It was hard to remain composed, however, when his second son was shuddering and bleeding before him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" The question had an undertone of helpless hurt.

"Because it doesn't matter," came the harsh reply.

"You know it does matter."

"Just let it go, old man. It isn't even that bad. It doesn't matter."

"Prince Zuko, these may not be serious but they are wounds none the-"

"It doesn't matter!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's just skin!"

The anger in Zuko's eyes now was defensive. Iroh knew at once why the young Firebender was so apposed to this injury. If it didn't matter at all, then the other injury to his skin would not either. And he needed it not to matter. Something- Iroh knew he'd probably never find out what- had renewed Zuko's ever-present disgust for his scar. Something had happened while he was alone that had made him want to bear his punishment alone. Iroh let out a long sigh, feeling suddenly old. The world had been so cruel to the young man before him. Sometimes he wondered why the injustices always had to befall those he loved.

"It'll be easier for me to do it," was all he replied, reaching again for Zuko's side.

This time he was met with no resistance, only a sullen acceptance. He worked as gently and effectively as he could with only one arm, hating every wince or gasp his actions caused. Zuko's blood ran over his hand and he was sure he would never get the image from his overcrowded brain. And then came the major obstacle.

The piece of rock was larger than the others and the skin had already begun to scab over it. To get it out would cause a lot of pain, but it had to be done. Steeling himself he told Zuko to hold still and then began peeling back the scab as gently as he could. Zuko stiffened at once and Iroh suddenly knew, with a sinking heart, that this would be even worse than he thought.

The scab was stubborn and no matter how he tried he could not get it away. Every try was more painful than the last for his nephew and Iroh knew he had to hurry. Finally, however, he managed to rip the dead skin away. Zuko actually cried out, his hands curling into fists as his face twisted. Iroh apologized over and over as he used the hem of Zuko's shirt to stem the flow of blood. Zuko did not reply, not even to insult him. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"Just get it out, already," the younger Firebender finally spat out.

Iroh obeyed silently, beginning to try and pick the piece of rock out. But it was stubborn and the flesh was new and soft. Zuko was soon doubled over again, swearing into his clenched fists.

"Prince Zuko, hold on. It will be alright."

"Hurry up!"

"Prince Zuko, you need to sit up again, my nephew. You're blocking it. Sit up, Prince-"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Frustration, pain and desperation made the cry escape him as wild eyes searched his for an answer. "I'm not a prince! Why do you call me that?"

Iroh wanted to tell his surrogate son so many things. Things that had taken him so long to learn and things he was sure not even he could put into words. But he knew Zuko would not listen; his heart was too torn to understand. And he was bleeding with hitched breathing on a dirty floor with enough bruises to make every movement a painful one.

And so, instead, he just said, "Because, my nephew, it is just skin."

Zuko's eyes dropped away and he sat up again with a wince, allowing his uncle to begin taking out the last bit of rock. Iroh hid the two tears that slipped down his face as he worked. It was clear his nephew did not believe his words; it was not just skin at all. And that hurt more than any physical wound in the world.

AN 2: Short and very, very, very, very, very crappy. Maybe when I have more muse I'll come back and fix this up.