A/N: More than anything, this was an exercise in defeating writer's block, which I am uncharacteristically suffering from. I hate it! Anyway, I didn't know where else to put this drabble, so it gets hidden away inside 'Menagerie' where no one will find it. *shrug* Oh well!

And He Dreamed of Mai

Banished, disgraced, burned, alone in a dark room, Zuko needed something to soothe him. Pain, hot and searing, flared in his face, then radiated outward, affecting his entire body. It was enough to make him physically ill and every so often he needed to heave into a bucket that Iroh had left by his bed. Painkilling herbs and salve the physician had slathered on, only did so much. He was in agony. Death seemed like a far better option and the prince found himself wishing that his father had killed him outright.

His sleep was fitful, disturbed by intense dreams of the Agni Kai. In these dreams, everyone laughed; his sister, his father, Zhao, even his Uncle Iroh. They laughed as his face burned, the smell of charred flesh and hair filling the arena. They laughed as he fell unconscious to the polished marble of the battleground, everything intolerable for both his body and his mind.

When he awoke, he pressed his right palm into his right cheek, wiping away the tears that streamed out of his uninjured eye. He felt weak and useless, cast aside and more than anything, hopeless. He had a mission; to find the Avatar. That he clung to with ferocity, though he knew the search would, in all likelihood, prove fruitless. He no longer had a home or a place or an identity. He was no one and that pain hurt more than the pain of his burn.

The prince wished, feeling like a little boy, that his mother sat by his bedside. She always knew what to do. She could also comfort him like no one else ever could. But she'd been gone for three years, gone from the palace and gone from his life. That was when everything really started to change. Those happier days, still shadowed by Azula and his father, left for good, never to return. From that moment on, he had felt almost completely alone.

Mai was his only solace then. Shy, quiet, reserved, but full of a passion that occasionally she allowed him to bear witness to, the girl from across the street, liked him, accepted him, willingly spent time with him. That seemed like a miracle in itself. But their affection for each other had grown into something even deeper; the fragile beginning of love. They both felt it, both knew it on some level and were both devastated by their separation.

Zuko experienced a sudden, intense longing for Mai. He closed his normal eye tight and conjured up memories; the smell of lilies on her hair, that beautiful hair, the light in her eyes when he smiled at her, or when she showed him one of her blades, the feel of delicate bones in her fingers when he grabbed hold of her hand, that smile, a slight upturning of her lips, that laugh, raspy and rare. For a moment, just a moment, Mai was in the cold, steel cabin with him. And for that brief moment, Zuko was soothed.

His sleep that night was better and he dreamed of Mai.