I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender, or any of the name or characters of the show. I merely control them for my own twisted pleasure from this point in the story on.

Chapter o8: Marks

"Prince Zuko?" Iroh called as the prince tied the mask around the back of his head.

"What?" He sounded irritated and he was. Zuko finished tying the mask on and turned to face his uncle.

Iroh smiled at him, something Zuko was quickly starting to get annoyed with, and motioned for Zuko to come closer. Iroh pointed to the handful of dried fruit that Zuko had in his hand and said, "She's a growing girl; she will need more than that."

Zuko sighed and shook his head. "We don't have anything else."

"Yes, we do," his uncle said and held up a stone bowl for Zuko to see.

"That's not tea is it?" Zuko asked suspiciously.

"No, it's soup. Stew, to be more accurate. Have the young lady eat this. It's quite good."

Zuko was thankful for the mask when his jaw dropped. "Uncle, you need a spoon to eat that," he said pointedly, trying very hard to keep the panic out of his voice.

Iroh's smile didn't falter for a second. "Yes, I know."

"Katara can't move her arms, remember; you said so yourself."

"Oh, is that her name? How lovely. And, yes, I know she can't move. Here," he handed Zuko the bowl, and shooed his nephew toward the other camp. "She's not going to get any less hungry the longer you stand here. Go on, go." Iroh smiled and Zuko found that he had no choice.

Zuko picked up the dreaded spoon on his way towards the other camp. There had to be a way for her to feed herself. There had to be. He also picked up the salve, knowing it was almost time for another application.

He marched toward Katara -- who was still lying on his sleeping mat -- and wondered if her friends were anywhere near enough to come and take care of her themselves. He approached her and sat down in front of her, making sure not to growl in frustration. He set the bowl down at his side and finally looked at her.

Katara was still smiling that bright smile. Why was she so happy to see him anyway? It was most likely because he'd brought food.

He glared down at her, knowing she had no way to know how angry he was. He was not going to spoon-feed her. Just thinking about it was humiliating.

"You brought food, thank you." She said, and he set the bowl down in front of her. Her smile wavered for a second. She looked back up at him, and he could almost see the gears clicking in her head.

Had she really not realized she wouldn't be able to eat on her own? It should have been more obvious to her than to him. Why did she falter like that?

Zuko started when she tried to move her arms. She was going to try it anyway? Was she stupid? If she were able to succeed, he wouldn't complain.

Despite his frustration with the girl, he found that he could only watch as she slowly shifted her arm from its position on her side. It inched forward toward the bowl. Her hand curled into a fist, and Zuko's eyes went to her face.

The look in her eyes screamed pain, and he was amazed when she didn't make a sound. But as her arm moved closer and closer to its goal, he could see tears form, and Katara closed her eyes tightly.

Without thinking, he took hold of her arm to keep her from moving it any more. Enemy or not, he couldn't stand seeing her like this. He stood and moved over to her side, reaching down and putting his arms under her waist and shoulders, being careful not to touch anything… female.

"Wait! What--" She twisted her head to give him a confused look as he lifted her from the ground. She hissed in pain, and he slowed his movements to keep from agitating her wounds.

Gradually, Zuko managed to get her into a kneeling position, and she stopped tensing her body. Now that she wasn't resisting him, it became easier for him to move her around.

She stared at him with a slightly fearful expression as he grasped her left leg and then her right to settle her into a full sitting position, supporting her back with his other hand. Realizing she was still too weak to sit up on her own, Zuko had no choice but to sit down beside her and encircle her with his legs, leaning her against the inner side of one knee for balance.

With Katara flanked by both of his legs, he reached over for the soup and finally looked her in the eye. She was blushing slightly, and it wasn't helping him, but he had no choice.

A sense of purpose had replaced the embarrassment he'd felt walking over here. He grabbed the spoon in one gloved hand before looking down at her. When she didn't move to eat its contents, he set the spoon back in the bowl.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She shook her head gently, "You don't even know me." She raised her head to look at him, but lowered her eyes.

What was he supposed to do? Did she want him to say something? She was crying. For no reason. Why?

Panic once again pulled him in two directions: he wanted to stop her tears but he also wanted to run. She hadn't eaten anything yet, and he would just have come back if he left her there. He realized there was no escaping the fact that he had to take care of her, even if it meant sticking around when he didn't know how to handle a situation.

She opened her mouth to say something else, and he did the only thing he could think to do to stop her. Raising a hand to her mouth, he placed a finger gently to her lips.

Startled, she turned to stare at him. He shook his head and picked up the spoon once again, bringing it to her lips. He kept the spoon there until she took it into her mouth. He waited until she swallowed before getting another spoonful of the rather good smelling stew. Looking back at her face, Zuko realized she was still crying.

This had to be as hard on her as it was on him. He could complain about the situation all he wanted to, but at least he could move and take care of himself. This had to be humiliating for a girl as proud as Katara. She didn't even have the familiarity of friends to comfort her, only him. And he didn't seem to be doing a terribly good job.

He couldn't think of anything to do. But then, he remembered what had comforted him when he hurt, and he slowly pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms gently around her, like his mother had done in the past.

She stopped crying for only a moment before turning her face into his shoulder and starting to cry even harder. If not for the fact that this was exactly what he had done, he would've though it hadn't helped at all.

Later, when she had finished eating, he picked her up and laid her gently back down on her stomach. Peeling off her bandages, he reapplied the salve to her wounds and massaged it into her muscles as his uncle had instructed.

She didn't speak, but the tension in her back told him that she was probably quite embarrassed. He waited until her breath evened out before picking up the things he'd brought, and heading back toward his and his uncle's camp.

Iroh had already made another pot of tea by the time Zuko got back. The old man looked up with a kindly smile, but the kindness turn to mischief the moment he set eyes on Zuko and the prince immediately wondered why.

For some strange reason, without Katara around, his bad mood had snuck up on him again. "What?" he demanded.

"It looks as though she spilled a bit on your shoulder there, Prince Zuko," his uncle said, taking a sip of his tea.

Zuko looked sideways and discovered that his uncle was right. For some reason, his temper subsided when he spotted the stain her tears had left there.

"Yeah," he said gently, "you could say that."

This is where my Author Notes go...Enjoy.

So… how's everyone's nose doing? Any bleeding?

'Cause if there is…..

You're welcome.

If you want more, there's a video I spent three days on, and is the reason for the delay in update-ness. WATCH IT PLEASE! It can be found on my youtube account AkimaHasku. The link to it is on my profile here on fanfiction.

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