Disclaimer: I have never owned Avatar.

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Chapter 6: The Pieces

The heavy pounding of rain softened as the downpour morphed into a drizzle, but Zuko paid it no mind. His clothes clung to him like a second skin, but he ignored that as well; he focused instead on Mai, running his fingers gently through her hair as she wept, and eventually her tears ceased to fall and her sobs faded away into nothing more than soft, broken whimpers. She was still shivering, though Zuko couldn't tell if it was from the emotions she'd released or from the chill of the rain. He wondered if it was possibly both.

Realizing Mai had no intention of rising on her own, Zuko retrieved her stilettos and slid them into his pack before gently sliding his arm down, gripping her back with one arm and hooking his other arm beneath her legs. He lifted her easily into his arms, keeping his hold gentle and firm; but she didn't seem to even notice what he'd done, simply slid an arm along his neck to anchor herself as she buried her face into the crook of his throat, her other hand still fisted against his shirt.

He began walking, remembering the original direction they'd been heading and that a town waited at the end of their trek.

The fact that her whimpers had finally quieted and been replaced by soft, ragged breathing soothed him.

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The predator is gone; she feels its absence within her like a wound, like a gaping hole that can never again be filled, something that was never supposed to exist in the first place. Only dimly is she aware of the fact that Zuko is carrying her, that she isn't walking on her own two feet.

She doubts she could walk on her own right now even if she wanted to.

The fever has returned, the darkness and the fire, and with it comes a primal roar from within as something inside her pounds against the gates of her mind like a savage beast desperate for entrance. With the killing of the men and the releasing of her emotions something has stirred again within her, something that has trigged the fever she fought for three days.

She knows this time is the last time. The fever has come again, but if she doesn't win this one, if she doesn't regain whatever it is she has lost, she will never be whole. Killing the men has released the storm she kept locked inside; now is time for her to deal with the aftermath, to repair the damage, whatever it may be.

Do you want to remember?

It's a strange feeling, being so wet and cold but feeling so hot and turbulent inside, like a clashing of wills, a war of water and fire. And through it all is the steady, firm warmth of Zuko's arms, the warmth of his skin, his scent, and the feeling of his heart beneath her hand. The familiarity of it drives her mad.

Do you want to remember?

(a gurgle distracts her from the letter she's trying to write, and she looks down at the small boy tugging insistently on her leg. He grins in delight and holds up his arms expectantly, giggling. A small flash of irritation runs through her before she sighs ruefully and shakes her head, pushing the parchment away to lift the toddler into her arms, and he squeals with delight, reaching up to play with her hair as she breathes in his milky scent, and a small smile curves her lips)

This is new, this is not a memory of the man with golden eyes or of Zuko, and somehow she knows it's a memory of her past, of her life, of who she was before she was imprisoned. It flits through her mind like a shadow and slips through her fingers before she can even make sense of it and fades away, but somehow she knows it isn't lost to her; not completely.

Tom-Tom.

Her brother.

Do you want to remember?

The colors are back, the yellows and the oranges and the reds, but this time she doesn't flinch away, she doesn't feel fear. This is it, this is her last stand, this is her now or never.

Yes. I want to remember.

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"Oh, you poor things. You're both soaked to the bone."

The elderly woman had long, messy gray hair pulled back in a long ponytail and wrinkles around her bright green eyes, but her hands were gentle and her voice was warm. Zuko gave a weak smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, thinking of the girl in his arms. "I'm fine, really," he assured her. "But do you have somewhere for Mai? She needs to lay down for awhile."

"Of course, of course. Come this way. Riu!" She lifted her voice in a shout as she started down the hall, Zuko following her. "Did you clean out the room like I asked?"

"Yes, Grandma." The skinny boy with a narrow face had to be at least ten, Zuko guessed, and he was obviously sulking, not pleased with how he'd gotten roped into helping the strangers his grandmother had taken pity on.

Zuko only had time to dip his head in wordless thanks before he was urged into the room. He paused for a moment to survey his surroundings.

There was one bed, small and narrow, resting against the wall; a small lamp had been placed on a table by the window, and a tiny flame continued to burn on. The room was a little small and only had one bed, but Zuko wasn't going to complain. Walking quietly across the floor, he carefully set Mai down on the bed, brushing loose strands of black hair out of her eyes before pulling the covers up over her.

Her breathing was unsteady and ragged but still quiet enough to let the banished prince know she wasn't in any immediate distress. Her skin, when he touched her forehead, felt warmer than it had been before, and he wondered if her fever had in fact returned.

And if her fever had returned, he wondered what it meant for her.

"She your girl or something?"

The boy was back, leaning against the doorframe and watching the pair with a detached kind of interest; Zuko looked at him for a brief moment before turning back to Mai, running his hand through her hair in a quick gesture meant to soothe. She wasn't trembling, and he took comfort from that.

"Something like that," he murmured softly.

His girl.

Those two words didn't even do Mai justice.

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She wants to remember.

It's the first thing she can recall actually wanting, and it fills her with an odd sort of glee. The colors of her fever are back, and with it comes the warmth of fire and the coolness of water. Some part of her knows that these memories could break her, could bury her forever, but she has to remember. She has to know.

They flash through her mind in a blur, eliciting a shot of heat throughout her body and a jab of cold in her chest. She isn't afraid.

Even if she remembers that no one really wanted her, no one tried to save her, she isn't afraid.

Memories, a faded jumbled blur of them. Memories of sitting against a wall and keeping silent, because that was expected of her. Remembering what it felt like to be ignored among the masses, and wondering if her existence meant anything at all. Knowing her parents loved her deep down, but also knowing they wouldn't find a way to show her anytime soon.

Different names, different voices, flashing through her head like beacons of light; and among them she can hear her own name, the name Zuko called her, among the voices she can hear her own voice, the way she sounded before she was imprisoned. Her name, leaving the lips of different people at different times, for different reasons. Her voice breaking the silence, whether she spoke to someone, laughed at something, or sang softly to herself to keep the shadows at bay.

The two young women, the pink-clad girl with dark brown hair and dancing gray eyes and the girl with black hair and golden eyes, the girl who she now knows is the daughter of the man who imprisoned her. Playing with her as children, teasing her because of her feelings for Zuko, visiting her on a regular basis even when she became something that was less of a human and more of an animal. Risking their freedom—and possibly their own lives—to help her escape from that prison.

Azula. Ty Lee.

("You're hopeless, you know that?"

"She isn't hopeless, Azula! She's just… hopelessly in love."

Ty Lee and Azula roar with laughter as she ducks her head, a faint blush heating her cheeks, and cursing them both she flings a small, useless knife at them even as she can feel the laugh rising in her throat; but Ty Lee dodges it easily, grinning like a monkey, and Azula just stops it in its tracks with fire, a smirk curving her lips. She doesn't destroy it, though, because she knows knives are important to her, her way of expressing herself. She knows, in her own cold way)

Her friends.

Her parents, her father with his stern face and deep voice and her mother with her long hair and wrinkles around her eyes. Parents that scolded instead of praised, parents that taught her to be silent instead of speaking up for herself. Parents who treated her more like a creation and less like a child.

Parents who stood off to the side and did nothing, said nothing when she was taken away.

A sharp jabbing pain in her chest makes her whimper, but her mind has one more thing to show her.

Zuko. Memories of the boy, with soft skin and gentle gold eyes that made her melt inside, a timid smile and a blush as he helped her up or grabbed her hand for some reason. Memories of the man, his skin roughened by three years of banishment and his eyes no longer gentle, but still with a timid smile and a soft touch.

Listening to him as he desperately told her about Ozai's plan to execute his uncle, offering him help even as he started to say he could do it himself. Using her skills and her speed against the prison guards, keeping them occupied as he helped Iroh escape. Coming to him, telling him it would be best if she stayed behind even as he begs her to stay.

"I'll come back. I swear I will. Just… wait for me, and I'll come back for you."

She has been waiting. Before this, she remembered that much.

Now she remembers. She was waiting for him.

Because she loved him.

As the memories start to fade away, as the colors drain to darkness, before she is dragged into the black she is bombarded with one more tidbit of information, one more thing that might cause her to wake as a different person.

Mai.

Her name is Mai.

I remember.

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The loud, obnoxious crowing of some barn animal jerked Zuko out of sleep and fully into wakefulness. His back throbbed a bit from sleeping against the wall, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been since he'd used his pack as a pillow; he rubbed the back of his neck, yawned, and rose with the intent of checking Mai.

She was still asleep, but sometime during the night her breathing had evened out and her muscles had relaxed. Zuko knelt next to her, gently stroking her cheek for a moment before checking her temperature, pleased to discover the fever was going as quickly as it had come. He rocked back on his heels for a moment as he contemplated the wisdom of waking her, then decided against it. Mai had entered the fever on her own; when she woke from it was also something she had to do herself.

"How is she?"

The voice of the elderly woman made Zuko look up; she was standing in the doorway, watching him with eyes that contained more wisdom than he could possibly understand. "She looks like she's been through a rough time," she added quietly.

"She has." Zuko ran his hand through Mai's hair in a familiar gesture before rising. "But she'll be okay now. She's just figuring out some things about herself."

The woman said nothing, though her eyes softened. After a moment, she cleared her throat. "I hate to ask a favor of you, but Riu ran off to play with some friends and I don't have the heart to break 'em up yet. Would you mind getting some water from the river? It isn't far from here."

Zuko stood. "Okay."

He needed something to do until Mai woke up, anyway.

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The sensation was akin to being thrown into deep, cold water and being left behind to flail out, to swim to the surface with lungs burning and vision dimming. Her hearing was muffled and she couldn't breathe, but she fought to break free, to reach the surface. She was close. So close.

Just the fact that her mindset had changed showed it.

I am Mai.

Everything within her surged forward, clamoring to reach the light, the surface, to break free and breathe.

I remember.

The breath whistled painfully through her lungs; her eyes snapped open and stung as the light hit them full on, her first time actually seeing anything properly. She jerked up with a gasp, her whole body slick with sweat, her breathes coming in heaves. Her head was spinning and her stomach rolled within her. Every muscle in her body was screaming in agony, as if she'd fought a powerful enemy.

Breathing hard, her legs shaking, she stumbled off the bed and staggered down the hall, keeping one arm braced against the wall to support herself. She found something that seemed to resemble a household bathroom and stumbled inside, falling to her knees. A half empty bucket of water was in the corner; with trembling fingers she grabbed it and pulled it to her, dipping her hands into the water and splashing her face. Wiping water out of her eyes with the back of her hand, she stared at her reflection for a moment.

A small, tired smile curved her lips as water dripped from her hair and ran down her face.

"I'm Mai." Her voice was hoarse, ragged from disuse, but it sounded like music to her ears. "I've been gone for too long."

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This chapter is DONE! FINALLY! (dies)

And can I say OMFG EPIC ENDING? SERIOUSLY? The movie... THE MOVIE! I sense Kataang and Maiko love babies in the near future. And Mai is made of so much win, her line of "Don't you ever break up with me again" after Frenching Zuko made up for her not having a larger role.

Read and review, please!