Hello all!

Well I'll get straight to the point: I watched Avatar: The Last Airbender for the first time only 2 weeks ago. Ha, yeah. Better late then never. Anywho, I simply ADORED it, and fell in love with Zuko. So this is my first ever Avatar fanfic.

I got the idea while watching the episode: The Boiling Rock. Enjoy! And please review! :D

Cold

It was beyond freezing in the cooler.

Layers of frost coated the walls and lone window of the tiny compartment. Ice encrusted the edges of the door and every corner.

The hair on his skin stood on end, and he began to shiver so violently that his teeth jarred against each other.

Zuko began to breathe heavily, trying to channel the fire within him to keep himself warm. But his breath only exuded in white clouds like smoke. He crossed his arms over his chest so tight his muscles began to strain, and winced in discomfort as a fresh spout of frozen air blew in from some unseen vents in the ceiling.

He waited, counting to one hundred to make sure the guard outside had left, and he was completely alone.

Bolts. He had to remove the bolts.

Gritting his teeth so they would not chatter, he retrieved the wrench from his tunic and started on the first bolt.

But his fingers were already going numb. The wrench slipped and fell to the hard, icy floor with a resounding clang.

He froze, hoping against hope that the coolers were soundproof as well.

After a few moments, and no one came to check on him, he bent down to pick the tool back up.

The metal was already frozen through.

He groaned in frustration. How was he supposed to do this?

Not many people understood that for a firebender, the cold was like a raging nightmare.

He was forcefully reminded of awhile back, a few weeks after the winter solstice, when Zhou and his army had invaded the northern Water Tribe. Zuko's zeal for finding and capturing Aang had been so great, he had recklessly plunged into bitter cold water to try and find a way in under their defenses, with no thought at what might lie ahead.

It had been sheer agony. The water had been so cold it burned.

So accustomed was he to flames dancing around his skin, keeping him warm, that the cold had engulfed him, clogging up his mind, making it hard to think, and even harder to bend. He had been afraid. Afraid that he would be trapped under the ice. Afraid that he himself would freeze, become a part of the cold so that even all the fire in the world would not be enough to thaw him out again.

It had taken every ounce of his remaining strength to simply heat his hands and melt the ice above him, even to breathe a few puffs of fire to warm his face.

Sokka's plan was indeed a brilliant one. But the moment he said they had to loosen the bolts "from the inside", Zuko's stomach had begun to twist and knot.

Not again. Not the cold again.

His heart was hammering now. The walls seemed too close. The ceiling too low. Zuko sat down and hugged his knees, trying to hold in what little heat he had left. His energy was waning.

"I wish I had some lightening I could redirect," he muttered between chatters. The memory of it made him smirk with satisfaction. The power, the energy...he felt as if he could have run for miles without tiring. He wished his uncle could have seen him, if not only to see that Zuko had learned at least one thing from him.

All those times his uncle had tried to talk some since into him, especially with those ridiculously confusing sayings and proverbs. What would he have said right now?

Suddenly words his uncle had already spoken, so many months ago, rang in his ears.

Power in firebending comes from the breath. Not the muscles.

Well, right now it felt as if his muscles were starting to cramp. What else could he do?

Zuko screwed up his eyes and tried to focus on breathing. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

A small jet a flame spurted from his mouth, licking the inside of his throat and warming his face.

He smiled.

First he warmed his hands, breathing onto them, then rubbing them together to get the blood flowing. His fingers began, ever so slightly, to steam. He then defrosted the wrench that still lay, untouched, on the floor.

He worked slowly, keeping his breath even and steady, and then even slower when the cooler began to wobble slightly. In no time, he had quite a nice collection of bolts and screws hampered in his shirt. Finally, he removed the last one, and added both it and the wrench to the collection.

Now all that was left to do was wait.

Sitting down on the floor, he crossed his legs, tucked in his arms, and rested his forehead on his knees. He continued breathing, slow and controlled, and in a matter of moments, the metal in his lap grew warm as well.

Now all that was left to do was wait for Sokka.