Disclaimer: Let me check...yeah, almost 99 percent sure I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender.

A/N: Ok, so I re-uploaded this story in order to fix a few errors with it. This is my first A:TLA fiction, though I'm a fairly known author in other fandoms. I just recently started watching Avatar, and I am already mildly obsessed. Though it hasn't reach the point of being frightening...yet. I have found myself loving to read Zukka, but this I found intriguing because I haven't seen very many. This is Aang/Zuko, and if you don't like that sort of thing...eh, do what you will. I'm sure I can take it. I warn you now, this is not a happy fic, I hardly ever wright those anyways. The next chapter will give a little more info then this one does. Read on. Much Love!

TillThatTime

Warnings: Slash! Dark! Mature content in later chapters.

Dry

His lips are always dry.

He can taste the bitter copper of blood as he runs his tongue along the cracks, and he grimaces at the inconvenience of the taste. The fire drys them out.

Fire seems to dry everything out.

He watches through narrowed eyes as the boy in front of him struggles weakly against the iron clasps that hold him. He pulls and tugs and pulls and tugs, there's never really any result and yet he keeps on trying.

The trusty little Avatar and his god damn will.

The boy cries out softly as he falls roughly to the stone floor, his back slamming against the jagged unevenness of the wall in the process. His body shakes from the fever that was brought by the injury he sustained in the capture.

"How do you capture the Avatar?"

"Why, catch him unawares, of course."

A striking blow to the head while he dreamt of pretty, little waterbenders seemed to do the trick. Poor little Avatar in the claws of the big, bad wolf.

The boy curls into himself and Zuko almost wishes he could have the pleasure of hearing the little bastard cry.

"Wear yourself out, Avatar?" His voice is cold and there is a hint of a cruel underlining message in the question that is supposed to be so simple.

"Wait, Zuko." The name slithers off the Avatar's tongue in the most disdainful of ways. The revolting cheeriness that usually accompanies the boy's tone is forgotten in the shadows of the prison cell.

"You are in no place to be threatening."

"And yet here I am, Zuko, promising you that you'll soon realize your mistake."

"Grown bold in these past three years, Avatar? Or is the idea of that pretty peasant girl screaming out for mercy getting the better of you?"

The boy swiftly pulls himself into a sitting position, his eyes glowing with fury as he makes a lunge at Zuko, the chains being the only thing keeping him from making contact with the Fire Nation prince. "I swear by the gods, Zuko-"

He has no time to finish, as Zuko's fingers have already made their way painfully around his slender neck.

"You swear what?" The words are drawn out and threatening. The Avatar can feel the heat of Zuko's breath, his face only centimeters away from his own.

"I swear I'll kill you someday."

"No, you won't." Zuko drawls, his voice dangerously low. "It's too harsh for you. You can almost feel their last breath leave their body, even if you're meters away. It's cold and deliberate, and oh-so-cruel for a monk."

"I'll make an exception." The boy spat back, his voice wavering beneath his bravado.

A sneer pulls Zuko's cracked lips as he lets go of the boy's neck and stands up suddenly, walking gracefully back towards his place against the opposite wall.

They continue on in silence for minutes that seem like centuries. It's a staring match. A battle of the wits. Good versus the presumed evil. A game neither will come out victorious in.

It would be so easy to break his neck. He is weak and his powers are drained from the struggle. Just so easy to curl his fingers around that tattooed neck and twist just a little too hard...

And he would deserve it too.

It's all because of him. Everything. Shame threatens to strangle him all because of some little fucking fifteen year old. His father's denial is not his own fault, because it's easier to pin blame to someone whose just so worthy of the accusation.

Zuko swears by the gods that he hates him. Hates what he stands for. Hates what he promises. Hates what he has. Spoiled Fire Nation brat jealous of the monk, oh-so-ironic, and yet, so undeniably true.

"What do you want, Zuko?" The younger boy blurts out, not knowing exactly why the prince is still standing there.

I don't know.

Zuko lets out a harsh laugh, his voice bouncing off the stone walls. "What a terribly funny question, Avatar." The words seep through his gritted teeth, strained and full of something the younger boy cannot place. The words etch a memory into the Avatar's mind and he realizes Zuko is not laughing any more, because it's suddenly not funny.

"You're meaningless, Avatar." He says quite suddenly. It's a lie, of course, The Avatar means everything, especially to him, but it has always been easier to just lie.

The boy looks up suddenly from where his grey eyes had been focused on the floor. His expression holds uncertainty, as if he is trying to persuade himself to say what is about to fall from his lips.

"Tell me Zuko, how does it feel to know that you're not living up to little sis' reputation?"

The blood drips onto the floor from where Zuko's fingernails drive into the skin of his palm. His breath quickens, but he remains where he stands.

"You tread on very dangerous lines, Avatar." He struggles to keep his voice calm.

"How does it feel to know that honor is something that you will never possess?" The boy continues on, ignoring his own gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. He isn't used to being harsh. He isn't used to speaking with the intent to hurt.

"Do not speak to me of honor!" Zuko's voice begins to rise as his entire body shakes uncontrollably.

"You're a disgrace, and it must kill you to know that there is nothing you can do about it."

And within a matter of seconds he has the boy pinned to the cold, stone floor, his fingers once again clutching the pale skin of his neck. The Avatar can feel the heat from Zuko's fingertips and he squirms to break free.

"Oh, how I wish to kill you, Avatar. To make you feel everything you've put me through these past three years. To have you scream for it to stop. To have you beg for me to. Just. End. You."

The words come out through gritted teeth, and the Avatar feels something wet hit the side of his cheek. He does not want to believe that tears are falling from Zuko's eyes, so he closes his own, choosing to ignore it all.

Besides the fact that his eyes are shut, the boy makes no sign of being affected at all, and Zuko wants to scream at him. Wants to scream at him to be scared, to be frightened of him, because if Zuko has earned anything, it's that. It pushes him further into rage to know that the Avatar does not fear him, and he wishes for just one tremble, one cry, to reassure him that he has something.

An idea dances wickedly into his mind, and Zuko wastes no time thinking on it as he begins to put it into play.

His fingers find the buttons of the younger boy's shirt and he feverishly begins to pull them apart, a nasty sneer curls his lips as he does. The boy's eyes fly open as he feels this, as he feels Zuko straddle and undress him. He begins to struggle once more, but Zuko has him effectively pinned.

Zuko runs his nails along the Avatar's bare chest before discarding him of his shirt completely. The boy finally cries out as Zuko's hands find the tie of his pants and his movements are halted. He leans in close to the bald boy's ear, noting how the boy shakes violently beneath him.

"Something wrong, Avatar?" He says in a low voice, his lips brushing the other boy's ear.

"Don't Zuko, please don't." His voice is barely above a whisper but there is no mistaking the fear. Zuko smirks, satisfied by the reaction. He places a single finger against the Avatar's lips. They are dry like his own.

Air dries them out.

"You do not know me, Avatar. Never again will you speak as if you do." He stands up suddenly and watches as the other boy curls himself into a ball on the floor, his body still trembling. As he watches the boy, he feels his stomach churn and its contents threaten to spill. Ignoring his sickness, he turns away from the terrified captive and heads out of the cell.