Disclaimer: Don't own. No profit.

A/N: So, it's been what, like four years? Yeah, sorry about that, really. However, I now have a renewed interest in this story so I'd like to get it back on its feet. Remember, this story was written right after the end of Season 2, so season 3 doesn't exist in it. Zuko's still the enemy and the king of poor decision making. This story is all about the psychological angst and a warped relationship, and though that kind of stuff is right up my alley, it is taxing to make Zuko so bi-polar, though hopefully worth it. I also noticed the length of these chapters is kind of short, but the more I think about it, the more I think it works for this story because it's only supposed to be glimpses at a very confusing relationship. This chapter picks up right where the last one left off. I welcome back any of my old readers as well as any new ones! You have my devotion and appreciation.

Much love,

TillThatTime

Warnings: Extremely dark themed.

Conversations

He sits in a corner of the small cell, chewing on words he'll probably never say. The ground beneath him is hard and unforgiving and staining his pristine clothes, and he hears his sister's mocking tone in his head, speaking of weakness over an event she will never even know about, and not for the first time he wonders if she will truly follow him everywhere.

The air is damp and lacking in air and heat and so full of irony that he feels sick. He unconsciously reaches up and pulls at his hair, manipulating the strands until they cover his scar and then he brushes them away and starts all over. His eyes are glued to the ceiling, rolling occasionally up in his head when he looks for too long and they start to water. There's shallow breathing coming from somewhere on the opposite wall of him but he chooses to ignore it, because it's not his problem, he tells himself, it's really not.

"What are you still doing here?"

Perhaps the tone was meant to be harsher than it was, but the Avatar is weak and the words come out brittle in the air around them, and Zuko's mind promises that that's not his problem either.

It's a damn good question.

He chooses not to speak, because he's a prince and the Avatar is a prisoner and he doesn't have an answer anyway.

"Get out."

And a mirthless smirk cracks his chapped lips because when over the years had the little bastard learned to speak like that?

"Is this your property?" He hopes his tone is as mocking as he believes it to be, but he hasn't spoken in awhile and his throat might have cracked.

"It is my death place. What greater ownership can one have over a piece of land?"

Finally, finally, he looks over at the Avatar at those choice of words. The boy is half leaning, half lying against the opposite wall from him. There's still blood caking his sickeningly white skin and redness has formed around his eyes, and almost immediately Zuko wants to turn away because the joy he's supposed to feel at seeing this has abandoned him in the cold space that separates them.

"Your death place?" Zuko barks out, incredulous, not really believing he has heard right.

"Is it not?"

And anything Zuko might have said is tucked back down his throat because it's probably true. He isn't sure exactly what has happened to the Avatar's little rag-tag gang of followers, and now that he has the object of his obsession he really doesn't care but whatever it is, it probably isn't good. There is no one coming to save him, and now, in this state, there is no way out. If there's no formal execution the savior of the world will probably die alone in a cell that has long since reeked of death.

Will they make me a crown out of your bones, Avatar?

His stomach lurches and fuck everything that tells him he should feel guilty because this is what he has always wanted.

He has the Avatar's, the Savior's, the King's, the Brat's head displayed for the world to see, humanity has no place trying to step on his victory.

And the crowning achievement is the fact that he has the boy displayed before him admitting his defeat and accepting his death. It is so fucking righteous it's dizzying, absolutely euphoric.

But still, where's the fight? Why, after everything, has it suddenly become so easy? The moment feels cheap, the victory more like defeat, because surely this isn't the Avatar sprawled before him speaking of death.

It wouldn't have been so hard to catch him in the first place.

"Is this really how you'll let it end?" And he regrets the words almost as soon as he says them, because he's supposed to sneer, supposed to humiliate. It's what's expected of him, so why can he never live up to those expectations?

The Avatar looks at him now, and Zuko's suddenly too unsure to look away. There's something in those gray eyes, something that just clicks as wrong, and really he wishes he could chalk it all up to a job well done.

"My powers are gone." It's not a question, and it's not said with any kind of emotion. It's just a simple fact, so he provides a simple answer.

"Yes."

"Where did you take them?" And suddenly he's reminded of a child because the Avatar speaks of his powers like Zuko has them hidden in a box somewhere, locked away, and maybe it's the loss of blood that has the boy speaking that way, but for a moment Zuko indulges him anyway.

"Nowhere. They're still inside you, the drug suppressed them."

"They're inside me?" The Avatar says it softly as if he's testing out the words and he doesn't truly believe it, and perhaps death is coming sooner for the boy than Zuko originally thought.

"I had forgotten what it was like."

"Forgotten what?"

"What it was like to be free of them." And it doesn't make any sense, because the Avatar has always been an airbender, has always had power, but then he remembers that the Avatar had also once been a child that had no concept of cruel destiny, but Zuko refuses to spare him pity for the childhood neither of them had had.

"Happy to be rid of them?" He sneers, so hoping that he can regain himself in these moments when the strength of mankind is so weak before him.

"It's agony."

And he almost laughs because what a riot it is, to speak of agony and freedom in the same sentence, as if the two could coincide, and yet, somewhere deep down, Zuko believes he may know what his enemy means.

"I never wanted this power." The Avatar's voice is thick now, slightly slurred and it must be becoming difficult for him to speak, but he carries on anyway. " I wished for it gone, for all of it to be gone…and now that it is…I feel…Gods…Should I thank you Prince Zuko, for destroying me?"

Tears fall silently down white cheeks and Zuko wishes that he had no concept of guilt.

"Crying again?" He wants to stab those words into the weak body before him, really finish the job of breaking him, because if he does, he can be done with this and he wont have to feel like a monster anymore.

The Avatar looks surprised for a moment, and he raises a shaking hand to catch the tears that are making a steady stream down his face, obviously having been unaware of them up until this point. He studies his fingers before letting out a harsh breath of air in a poor attempt of what Zuko can only assume is a scornful snort. He looks at Zuko once more, only this time there's a trace of fire beneath his sad eyes, and Zuko doesn't want to believe that the twisting feeling in his gut is a perverse form of relief.

There's life there after all.

"Are you going to hold me again if I am?" And maybe if they had been friends those words would have just been a playful jab and he could have socked him in the face and they could have laughed it off together, but he doesn't even have to remind himself that they're not friends nor have they ever been and the Avatar, in a last ditch attempt to gain some control was weakly trying to hurt him back.

Zuko is immediately on his feet, hands clenched at his sides, fire bubbling incessantly beneath the surface, because how dare this little cunt bring that up? A lapse in judgment on the banished prince's part, to hear the pained cries of his prisoner and be moved by them. What had he been thinking to touch that skin with his own in a way that was not meant to inflict pain? If his father had only seen him in that moment cradling the Avatar n his arms like he was something, like he was everything.

I should have snapped his neck the moment I touched him…but the screams, those fucking screams. They were everywhere. Inside me. Ripping through me. What was I supposed to do?

And suddenly the anger's there, like it always is, torching his body from the inside out, and it's so insistent so unmanageable, because this child in one phrase reminds of everything he doesn't want to be. A prince who holds an enemy in his arms, and a liar who pretends that doesn't fucking matter.

"Do you want to die tonight, Avatar?" He roars, fire shooting from his mouth and nostrils, doing nothing to ease the burn within, and the airbender doesn't have enough pity to pretend to be frightened by this. His face remains unmoved as he struggles for breath, and Zuko feels something inside him tear.

"If not tonight, then how about tomorrow?" The Avatar asks calmly, coughing slightly, wiping the blood away from his lips once he's through, and as Zuko wages a war within himself, a battle for control, it hits him that maybe this was the boy's plan all along, and maybe all he seeks now is death by Zuko's hands.

I'm tired of fighting and I'm tired of running.

As he realizes that in killing him, Zuko would be giving him everything he wants, a voice screams out in agony in the back of his mind.

Don't let him win! Not again, not again!

Without a thought he goes to the corner where he had tossed the medication upon entering the cell and picks it up, quickly heading over to where the Avatar now watches him with weary eyes.

"What are you doi-" the query turns into a pained yelp when Zuko takes the boy's head into his hands and begins to inspect the damage. The Avatar begins to struggle, clawing at Zuko's hands like a frightened animal, trying desperately to get away, but Zuko ignores him as he begins to poor some of the medication onto a rag, only to apply it a half second later.

"There's little I can do. A medic will be in here later."

"Stop! Just stop! Kill me, don't touch me!" The Avatar's struggles have reduced as he takes deep breaths, trying to regain enough strength to speak. Zuko's eyes narrow, and he clasps both his hands on either side of the boy's head, before leaning closely into a bloody ear, noticing the shakes that rack through the body beneath him, whether from fear or pain, he's not sure.

"You're not going to die yet. We're not done here." He hisses, taking a small, though not entirely satisfying pleasure in the soft, broken cry that escapes the mouth next to his. He pulls away to look at the Avatar's face, noticing the way his eyes attempt to drift closed as he now struggles for consciousness. The smaller boy's mouth opens several times as he tries to speak before words actually come out.

"Stop touching me like this. It makes no sense. I don't want you touching me." The Avatar does not struggle anymore though.

"And I don't want to touch you. The world's full of disappointments." It's a childish answer but it's the best one he's got.

Gray eyes are no longer visible anymore as they are completely shut, but the Avatar takes the time to say one more thing. "Your touch feels like ice…"

His body falls limp and unconscious into the very arms he's been trying to escape for years, and the irony of it all is not lost on the prince of the Fire Nation.