Disclaimer: I'm only going to say this once, so read carefully. I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender in any way, shape or form. That's all, folks.

Zuko woke up to pain and darkness.

His face, he remembered. His father…Heat… "You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher…" The fire had been a wave of heat and light and energy, the same kind he always controlled from day to day, only this time it hadn't been under his control, and it had devoured him.

His face…He reached up to touch it, touch his eye, where it hurt the most. But his left eye was covered by some kind of bandage, and he couldn't touch it. It was probably good. This way, he couldn't aggravate the injury further.

It wasn't just his eye that hurt. His whole body ached, really, even though it hadn't been burned. Vaguely, he realized that he must have been sick for some time after the Agni Kai. He had hazy memories of feverish heat and pain, a splitting headache beyond anything he'd ever known, sickness in his stomach, and his uncle's comforting voice in his ears.

He couldn't remember much else. Even the Agni Kai he remembered like a dream. If it weren't for the pain and the bandage over his eye, he'd dismiss it as such. But he couldn't dismiss it like this. His father had fought an Agni Kai with him and burned his face pretty much off.

He stroked the bandage again.

Father had his reasons. He was just trying to make Zuko strong after Zuko had failed him in the Agni Kai. Zuko knew he deserved the punishment, he was so weak. His father wanted a son willing to face him in Agni Kai and really fight. Even now, Zuko could not bring himself to imagine striking his father. What a failure he was.

He turned over in bed uncomfortably.

It was not his bed. His blankets were softer, and the mattress was more firm. Which begged the question, where was he?

It was still totally dark. His left eye was covered with the bandages and even if he strained his right eye, he could not see even a hint of light. Clues to his location…well, he clearly was not in his own room.

There was a rocking that he had originally ignored, thinking it to be part of his sickness, but now that he thought about it; it seemed reminiscent of a ship at sea. He sniffed a little. Sea smell, too. Great. He was on a ship. Why? Zuko certainly didn't know.

Enough of passive observing. It was time to shed a little light on the situation.

He was wary of violent firebending, which might set the ship on fire (and that was the only reason he would avoid violent firebending, of course) but he thought it would be safe to ignite just a small flame, one he could hold in the palm of his hand. Easily contained, hurting no one. He twitched his fingers slightly and felt the warmth of a flame in his hand.

But there was no light.

Frowning, he brought his hand closer to his face. He could feel the warmth of the flame in the rest of his body now, and on his face, and he could even smell a little smoke. But…no light…

Panicking, Zuko started breathing faster. The flame grew suddenly hotter in his hand (was it flickering? He couldn't see it, so how would he know?) and instinctively he put it out, curling his hand into a fist. He panted desperately, straining his right eye in the darkness. Light, light, there had to be light somewhere.

He forced his breathing to slow. Weak. He was weak. His father had said so, and his father was always right, and here was the proof. A strong man, a brave man, would not allow himself to be worried by a little thing like darkness.

He tried to light a flame in his hand again. There, again, was the same outflow of energy he always felt when he bent, the same comforting heat in his palm, and the same wafting aroma of smoke. And still darkness.

He put the flame out and groaned.

Where even was he?

It occurred to him that if he was on a ship, there had to be other people on it as well. He would call one. They could tell him where he was, and perhaps they could get him a drink. He felt so very thirsty, and so tired, and so hot, and so sick.

"Hello?" he called out. "Hello…"

His voice was raspy and weak. Water, he needed water. Usually he could yell at three times this volume, probably more. Right now, his voice probably wouldn't carry more than a few feet.

It was only upon realizing this, that no one could hear him when he called out, that he was struck with a desperate, overwhelming desire to call for help.

How stupid, he thought, taking a sharp breath in. Help? He didn't need help. A drink of water, maybe, but that was all. He was going to be fine. Someone would have to come in sooner or later. No, he wouldn't even wait for someone to come. He could just get up now, and find someone, and they would explain what was going on and he wouldn't have to feel so very confused.

Breathe in, breathe out.

He felt the edge of the bed and fumbled over towards it. The first step was getting his feet out and on the floor, but the blankets on his legs were so heavy. No. He was the prince of the Fire Nation. There was no way he was going to let a blanket defeat him. He was so, so weak, and so stupid. But he was learning. See? He could move the blankets. He feebly pushed them aside. And now he would just get his feet on the floor, and then he would stand, and then he would walk, and then he would be just fine.

In the darkness he could not see how far down the floor was, so he had to lower his feet carefully until they hit the floor. There it was. He planted his feet as firmly as he could from lying down and pushed himself into a seated position.

Stand, Zuko. You're a prince, you're a warrior. Stand.

Silly Zuzu, too weak to even stand on his own two feet.

At the thought of what Azula would have said, Zuko would have snarled if his throat hadn't been so sore and weak. Always weak. He was strong enough to stand, of course. He forced himself onto his feet.

Oh.

He should start walking now, and find someone, but it was so dark. He was in a room no doubt, but where was the door? There was no crack, no sliver of light to guide him. He didn't even have a wall to inch along. Standing here in utter darkness, he felt as though he existed in a vacuum. Maybe there were no walls, and no door, and maybe even the bed didn't exist anymore.

He put his hand down and touched it. Smooth sheets and pillows. Reality check.

He put his hands in front of him, intending to feel his way to the door or at least a wall to walk along. He lifted his foot to step forward.

The ship suddenly moved under him, and he found himself falling, falling. If only he could see something to catch to halt his descent. But maybe there was nothing.

He ended up on the floor. If he reached up, he could touch the bottom of the bed. Stupid. He was right back where he started, except a bit more uncomfortable, and his head hurt from smacking it on the wood floor.

He tried to stand up again, but he felt just too sick.

What if there was no one of the ship? What if he just ended up lying here, on the ground, in pain and darkness forever?

Stupid Zuko. Princes weren't afraid.

Besides, he was sure there were people on the ship. If he lay still and listened carefully, he could hear sounds from outside his room (he was sure it was a room): the thump-thump of footsteps, and voices calling out to each other. He couldn't hear much through the walls and his own sickness, but enough that he was certain there were people out there.

He couldn't stand. He couldn't walk. He would have to wait.

Zuko hated waiting.

To pass time, he tried to distinguish between voices and words to figure out what was going on outside his room. To maybe pick up a clue or two as to what ship he was on and why. He was a prince of the Fire Nation, and he was injured. Why wasn't he in the Fire Nation palace to be treated, or at least in a hospital nearby?

He didn't want to think about it, or really to think about the Agni Kai or his injury at all. But what else did he have to think about? He couldn't think about his father without thinking of his injury, or about his uncle without wondering where his uncle was or about Mai without missing her. And Azula was an unpleasant subject to think about altogether.

Instead, he tried to think his way through the first firebending form, a neutral enough thought, only he had such a headache that he kept on losing track of things like the position of his feet or the angle of a punch.

The first thing to break into his thoughts was the sound of a door opening only a few feet away from him. Instantly Zuko opened his eyes as widely as possible. Still no light. Maybe it was the middle of the night, and there was no light anywhere on the ship for some reason.

More importantly, who had opened the door?

"Hello?" he croaked.

"Zuko! Are you all right?"

It was his uncle's voice. Reassuring and worried at the same time, bustling and peaceful. Zuko sighed. If Iroh was there, then things were probably fine.

Footsteps came towards him, and then he heard Iroh kneel down next to him. "When did you wake up? You were feverish and half asleep for three days." His uncle's hand came to rest on his forehead. It was warm. "Your fever has broken. Good. But you're still ill, nephew. Please don't try to walk yet."

Iroh's arms closed in around him and he was lifted gently back onto the bed. There was a rustling and soon the blankets were over him again. And now he was exactly back where he'd started when he first woke up. Only his uncle was there, so that was an improvement.

"Where are we?" he muttered.

"One of my ships," Iroh said. Which was not nearly enough information, but still reassuring. All in all, Zuko would probably rather be on a ship with his uncle than in the royal palace as things were. Azula would have taunted him past endurance.

Still, "Why are we here? Why aren't we home?" he asked.

Somewhere in the darkness, Iroh was still and silent. Zuko only knew he was still there because he could hear his breathing and feel the warmth of his body standing next to the bed. A firebender, he was very aware of heat.

Abruptly, Iroh said, "Your father has done something very foolish."

Zuko frowned (even though Iroh probably could not see it in the blackness). His father never did anything foolish. Iroh probably was misunderstanding something again. "Tell me what he did that you think was foolish," he demanded.

"Well for one thing," his uncle said. "He burned his own son's face." His voice was gritty, choked, barely restrained.

"That was to teach me a lesson," Zuko explained. "I didn't know my place. I spoke out of turn in the meeting, and I failed him in the Agni Kai."

"The Agni Kai should never have happened," Iroh said in the same strange tone.

Zuko closed his eyes. They weren't doing any good open, anyways, seeing anything was impossible with no light. "I told you, he had his reasons."

Iroh sighed heavily. "My nephew, he has done something else as well. It may be hard for you to accept."

"I can accept my father's will." He always had before, and he always would.

"You have been banished. As of two days ago, if you return to the Fire Nation you will be killed or captured immediately."

There was a pause. Silence, emptiness. Emptiness in Zuko's mind, too. He didn't know what to say to such a thing. Why would his father banish him? But surely he must have had a good reason. Surely.

"Ozai says it is to teach you respect," Iroh said flatly. "He said you can't be his heir if you don't understand the necessity of sacrifices, and that as you are, you are too weak. He said you dishonored yourself." Another pause. That made sense. "He has also said that you can return if you capture the Avatar and bring him back to the Fire Nation."

Of course. His father had left him a way to regain his honor. Or course he would. All Zuko had to do was capture the Avatar, and his father would trust him again, and he could go home. Things would be as they used to be. Zuko wouldn't have to feel ashamed anymore. Already he felt a thrill of hope rising in his chest. His father trusted him, and he wanted him back. Otherwise he would never have left Zuko a method to return.

"Sounds fine," Zuko muttered. "So, how do I capture the Avatar?"

Silence for a moment. Then, Iroh's hand on his shoulder, a comforting weight. "Nephew, it may very well be an impossible task. The Avatar has not been seen in a hundred years, and he is a very powerful bender."

"I know," Zuko said. That much was common knowledge. Everyone in all Four Nations knew that. "But Father expects me to do it. And I must regain my honor."

The hand on his shoulder tightened its hold, and Iroh sighed aloud. "If you wish to capture the Avatar, we will discuss it later. Perhaps I can help you." Then the hand left Zuko's shoulder entirely, making him a little nervous. He could feel the warmth of Iroh's body only a few feet from him, but it was not as reassuring as his hand. In this darkness, he desperately wanted physical contact. He wanted to be absolutely sure that Iroh was there.

"For now," Iroh said. "You must regain your strength. You were badly burned in the Agni Kai, nephew. It could be weeks before you are able to get out of bed."

Zuko did not like the sound of that. "I'll get up tomorrow." No need to pointlessly attempt to feel his way around in the middle of a ridiculously black night. He could be patient. He was a prince, after all.

Iroh chuckled quietly. He had stepped a few more feet away from Zuko, apparently, since the noise was from a bit farther away. Zuko wondered how he had missed the footsteps.

"I'll get you some water, Zuko," Iroh finally said. "And then, before we talk anymore, perhaps you should take a nap. You sound tired and your eye isn't focusing properly. Clearly you are still not well."

Zuko was about to protest that he was perfectly fine (a lie, his entire body still ached and his face still throbbed) when he noticed something peculiar.

Iroh had mentioned…that his eye wasn't focusing properly?

But…how on Earth could Iroh tell if his eye was focusing? It was far too dark to see anyone's eyes. Moreover, why did it matter if his eyes focused in this darkness?

He felt confused.

He had not asked Iroh about the mysterious darkness, the darkness that had even swallowed up the light from the small flames he had created without even a glimmer. The subject of his banishment had seemed more important, and thinking too much about the darkness hurt his head. The darkness…it didn't feel safe to mention it. But he was so confused.

Iroh took a step away again. This time Zuko heard it. "Uncle," he said, to make the man stop. He did not want to be alone. And besides, he still had questions to ask.

So Iroh stopped. "What is it, nephew? Are you all right?"

"…It's nothing."

"Very well then." Iroh didn't sound convinced, but Zuko wasn't going to make an argument out of it. "I'll be right back."

Zuko heard the door close.

He was alone in the darkness again. No reason to be afraid, though. Uncle would be coming back in just a minute with water. Water would certainly be appreciated, what with his throat as dry as it was just now.

He lay still, listening to the noises outside the door, and waited.

Author's Note: I really need reviews for this, guys. Writers' block is hitting me hard, and my motivation level is extremely low, but I really want to write this story, so I'm pushing through it. With the power of youth!

(Shakes herself) Sorry,I fall into Rock Lee mode sometimes. But yeah, reviews are appreciated (aren't they always?). Feedback, suggestions for plot, predictions, suggestions for improvement, compliments...all are welcome.

And can you tell what's going on with Zuko yet?