Standard disclaimers apply. I bet Brian and Mike get lots of chicks.

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

What the hell was wrong with Zuko? He was stuttering, staring off into space, and once (surely it had been her imagination, she insisted) she thought she had seen the tiniest hint of redness on his cheek. He was clearly uncomfortable. And he seemed to have lost his ability to speak in complete sentences. Maybe he was just tired. She knew she was. She shrugged and patted her thighs decisively.

"Well, we should head back to camp. It's getting late, and you've got to get up early, I'm sure. To catch the sunrise." She smiled at him as generously as she could, hoping that she'd read him correctly.

"Oh." His face was a complete blank. No expression whatsoever, save a slightly wider eye. "Right. The sunrise. Of course." He nodded.

She started to turn to leave, when he said, "Do you think we should go back together? I mean, how would that look..."

"What do you mean?" She laughed. "Of course. It's fine. And you can save me from any platypus bears we run into."

"Okay. But shouldn't you, you know, put your pants back on before we go back?"

Ooooooooh. Yes. She saw his point.

"Wouldn't that be funny, Zuko? If everyone thought we were out here making out, or something?" she chuckled lightly. "Sokka would kill you."

"Ha ha." He managed weakly, nodding his head slightly, the squirrelmonkey look in his eyes back with a vengeance. "Yes. Funny." He grumbled something under his breath about Sokka and bending and not a chance.

IlIlIlIlIlIlI

Dear, sweet, flaming, tapdancing Agni, he cursed for the umpteenth time that night; as he lay in his sleeping bag staring at the fire.

She had no idea. And he had thought she was relatively bright. He was at once relieved and disappointed that his secret was still safe. But something swelled to bursting inside him to just get it out. Be done with it. No more distraction. No more botched attempts to use language to communicate ideas and feelings in meaningful ways. No more picturing her naked in the river. Stop! He scolded himself, as he tread onto dangerous ground. But it was too late. His head was already full of the usual lasciviousness, plus a heavy helping of tonight, as he replayed the whole pitiful, beautiful scene in his head over again. He cringed when he got to the parts with himself and the words.

What was it that he really wanted? He had nothing else to think about really. His uncle was far too busy training Aang and having tea parties with Toph to be of any help. And the times he did get Iroh alone to talk to him he struggled to keep from being furious with him, and his plan to help The Avatar overthrow his sister and father. It was treasonous. And now he was a traitor as well, swayed by his own feelings.

He hated feelings. He hated the way they made him feel, especially. If he could, he would burn them all out of his body. He had gone along with Iroh out of the last shreds of loyalty he had left in him, for the man who had loved him even in betrayal, through his darkest times. The sight of him in that prison cell, injured and broken and near death at Azula's hands, or at the very least, her orders, had broken through to him. He should have left him in that cell. You have brought this on yourself, were the words he should have said to him, and left him there. But no. He had had to save him. It was an act beyond himself, beyond thrones and wars and plots. It hadn't occurred to him that in that act, he would be cutting himself off from his throne (Iroh was right about that. He rarely thought things through to the end) until the Dai Lee guards spying on them alerted Azula to what he was doing (he had originally intended to just get him out, and away). But they had forced the confrontation. It was still possible, Iroh had assured him, to regain his throne. Overthrowing Ozai was the only way to truly restore his birthright. It was a family tradition, after all. Ozai himself had done it. Zuko had refused to believe it at first, the details were still sketchy and unknown, as Iroh hadn't been there himself to witness it. But in the weeks after their escape from Ba Sing Se, his uncle had convinced him that the only truly patriotic thing, the only right thing to do, was to help to restore his country to the balance of nature. And that meant stopping the war, and a coup.

It was painful for him to think about. Only slightly more than the demands of his traitorous body. How a waterbender had managed to light a flame so insistent in him, he would never understand. It defied the laws of nature. But, the sullen prince reasoned, he had witnessed her fury, and it was at least as temper-mental and indiscriminate as any flame.

He sighed, and tried to remove the image of Katara and her waterlogged underclothes from his head, to no avail. He drifted into fitful slumber praying that tonight wouldn't be the night he started talking in his sleep.

IlIlIlIlIlI

A/N: Eek! Serious!Zuko attacks!