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Zuko knew pain. He knew it in the mass of scar tissue covering his face, leaving his ear, and eye void of any functionality. He new it in the way he traced the scar over, and over, begging for it to have been a dream, that he could wake up, that his father wanted him, that Azula wasn’t cruel, that mother was still there.
(Well father always had called him childish.)
Living in Ba-sing-say with uncle was like a breath of fresh air.
The pressure to capture the avatar was still there but it was... lessened. Serving tea for a living was not something Zuko had ever seen himself doing in his future, but he was beginning to dislike it less.
But then Azula happened, then the decision in the underground catacombs, and then finally going home.
But it felt wrong, the heavy pit in his stomach, the constant fear that he would somehow fuck up and father would brand him again.
The catharsis Zuko felt when he finally told fath-Ozai, where he could shove it, that burning a child, his son, was cruel and wrong was soul lightening.
Leaving to teach the avatar fire-bending was both the easiest, and hardest thing Zuko had ever brought himself to do.
Gaining their trust was surprisingly easy, the group was just so friendly. Even the water-bender, with all her coldness and sharp-eyed looks, was easier to deal with then most other people Zuko had lived with during his years.
Flying away to learn fire-bending from the masters was stressful, but afterwards Zuko could swear he could see flashes of color within his fire, a magnitude of bright flashes of beautiful colors.
Zuko felt completely calm for the first time in years. There was no fear, no anger, no anything bubbling its way up his throat, choking him up and making it hard to breath.
The group had noticed somewhat, noticed that Zuko actually seemed happy, and he was happy. Happier than he had been in years.
But of course, it couldn’t last. Nothing good ever did when it came to him.
-
Zuko couldn't force himself to stop trembling.
Ever since he and Sokka had broken into the prison and freed some of its prisoners, Sokka and Katara's father Hakoda included, Zuko couldn't stop shaking.
At this point, he knew that a breakdown was imminent.
He had, had them enough during the years to know the signs of an impending episode.
The fact that Sokka, and Katara’s father was there was just another thing to push him off the edge. It’s not that he thinks that the man is a bad person, because from what Zuko has seen from him so far only consisted of love and care for his children. Soft eyed looks and smiles were easily given when he was in the presence of his children.
No, it was the fact that he was a father that made dread and anxiety pool in his stomach like a stone. The man's mere presence made his blood rush behind his ears and sent his pulse thundering.
Toph, the earth-bender, was the only one of the groups that seemed to have caught onto his fear.
Every time that his pulse sped up and his breathing became stuttered, she was there, looking at him with wide pale eyes and a small frown on her lips.
She had asked him what was wrong once, Zuko lied without even considering telling the truth. The look of disappointment that she had given him almost made him wish that he had.
-
He had, had no nightmares that night.
(That should have been his first warning.)
Grumbling, Zuko pushed himself up from his sleeping mat. He pushed some stray hair from his face, running his hands through it to tame it slightly. He dressed slowly, reeling slightly in the fact that he actually felt well rested for once, before he made his way out of his secluded room and walked down the long stone halls. He exited them, coming upon the high-ceilinged main hall that the rest of the Avatars group had taken as their own.
Aang, as the boy had enthusiastically demanded Zuko call him, was sleeping towards the center of the room, bundled in a thick sleeping bag and snoring up a storm.
“Aang, it's time to get up" Zuko said softly, hoping that he wouldn't wake any of the others that were also sleeping in the hall.
The kid grumbled into, his snores cutting off when he heard the voice that he had become accustomed to hearing first thing in the morning. It was like Zuko didn't know what sleeping in was.
“What?” Aang grumbled, wriggling about in his sleeping bag.
“Training, if you’re not up in a minute, I’ll drag you out.” It wasn't a false promise, Zuko had demonstrated on multiple occasions that he was perfectly fine with physically hauling Aang out of his sleeping bag.
Aang jumped up quickly, rubbing at his eyes as he followed Zuko towards the training ground they had been using.
After training they went to breakfast, where Zuko studiously avoided looking anywhere near the water-bender, hoping that if he avoided eye contact, she would find anything to be upset at him for.
That night the group sat around the fire pit, perched on stumps that they had dragged in from somewhere or on pillows, eating the stew Katara had made with some wild mushrooms they had found.
Zuko ignored the shaking of his hands, even though he could see the looks multiple people had given him for them. He ignored their concerned gazes with practiced ease.
What finally brought him crashing down was something laughably small. It was honestly such a stupid thing to set him off. He had burnt himself cooking worse than this.
A stray ember sparked from the blazing fire pit when the fire popped and landed on his forearm.
Zuko couldn't help the way he tensed as the little glowing piece of ash burned against his skin. Something that small shouldn't hurt as much as it did. His pulse sped up as he stared down at the glow and his breath came out stuttered as the ember died into a smear of ash against his skin. The burning feeling didn't disappear quite as quickly.
There was no way that everybody wasn't looking at him, not with the way his breathing could be heard.
(-eyes, so many eyes burning into his skull, just like his father's palm just moments before)
Sweaty hands made their way up to his head, digging into his hair and clutching at the dark roots. He could feel his nails break skin.
(The floor was cold, and hard against his knees. Someone was looming above him, dark eyes gazing at him and hands on fire.)
“No-no don’t please! I’m sorry!” He didn’t even realized he was speaking out loud, too stuck in his head to notice.
“Sparky, what’s going on?”
“Hey- oh shit, there’s blood on his head!”
“P-please I’m sorry!”
(“Aw Zuzu are you crying? Is it because father doesn't love you anymore?” “No” “really? I could have sworn that was the reason? oh well”)
Zuko tugged harder on his hair, bringing his knees up to his chest.
(he could feel the golden bands wrapped around his arms, cutting off his circulation, feel the tears dripping down his cheeks)
“Father please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it I swear, it hurts, p-please stop, it hurts”
Zuko could feel blood dripping down his arms, a phantom pain in his scar, pressing it against his knees just made it worse. He threw his head back to get away from the sensation. He needs this to stop, for everything to stop.
“My-my name is Zuko.”
“Yeah, we know Zuko, I don't think this is the time for re-introductions.”
The voice sounded worried, worried for him? Zuko couldn't care right now, he just needed it to stop.
“My n-name is Zuko, and I am s-safe” He tried again, "I am s-safe, I am safe, I am s-safe!” The last words come out as a strangled sob. He couldn't make himself believe his own words, not even when it mattered most. Without any warning, large hands grabbed his shoulders and Zuko bodily threw himself back to avoid the grip, trying to get away.
His back slammed harshly into the stone behind him with a thud, sending pain shooting down his spine and he let out a terrified, choked sob.
The hands came back, this time slightly gentler. Zuko could hear garbled words being spoken somewhere in front of him, but he couldn't tell exactly where they were coming from. He squeezed his eyes closed in another attempt to ground himself.
“I need you to take deep breaths with me, can you do that Zuko?”
Zuko could barely make out the words, but he caught enough to know what the voice of wanted.
“c-can't s’rry, m’sorry I can’t” He managed to gasp out around his sobbing, the words slurred. More sobs worked their way out of his throat, cutting off his breathes before the oxygen could reach his lungs.
“That’s okay” The voice soothed, talking in slow even tones “Can I touch you, is that okay?”
(No, don't touch me, please don't touch me)
(When had he ever had a choice?)
Zuko nodded jerkily in reply, bracing himself. Slowly, one large hand disentangled one of his own hands from his hair and brought it down to rest against a slowly rising chest.
“Can you copy my breathing Zuko?” The voice asked, tone calm and steady.
Zuko nodded again as he tried to rein in his cries so he could copy the breathing pattern of the person in front of him.
After what could have been seconds, or hours of jagged, stuttered breathing and sobs, Zuko felt aware enough to try and bring himself back to awareness. With effort, Zuko moved the hand that was still digging its nails into his scalp to his mouth where he bit down hard against the base of his thumb.
He heard muddled sounds of alarm, but the pain and the taste of blood in his mouth was grounding.
Zuko blinked a few times, his breathing slowing down finally and his vision clearing enough for him to be able to see what was going on in front of him.
He could feel his bloody saliva trailing down his chin, leaking out from around where he had sunken his teeth into his hand and dripping down to mix with the tears that had leaked from his right eye.
“Are you back with us?” The man that was sitting in front of him said, likely noticing how Zuko was actually looking at him now, still gently holding onto one of Zuko's wrists to keep the attached hand firmly against his firm chest.
Zuko blinked slowly up at the man in front of him, having trouble processing what was going on. He gave a low hum instead of a response.
“Okay, do you want to lay down?”
Zuko stared at the man for a moment before nodding.
“Okay, thank you for telling me” The man said before turning slightly to the side “Can one of you grab a sleeping bag please?”
There was movement from behind the man, before a deep blue sleeping bag was shoved into view.
The man spread it out on the ground next to him, smoothing it straight with one hand, before he turned back towards Zuko.
“Can I move you?” The man asked gently. What was it with the soft voice? Zuko didn't deserve it.
Another nod. His hand was still firmly in his mouth, saliva slowly trailing out from the cracks around his teeth, which were still firmly imbedded into the fleshy part, inhibiting his speech. Not that Zuko thought he could string together two words right now.
The man moved to his side before sliding one arm under his shoulders, and the other under his legs. The man was warm, Zuko noticed distantly. He was lifted up slightly, before being set down lightly on the sleeping bag.
The man gently removed Zuko’s hand from his mouth. A few strings of bloody drool connected his hand to his mouth. Zuko's jaw ached when the pressure of biting down so hard stopped. His eyes were already slipping closed, golden eyes slitted, and hazy, his hair spread out behind him, some places already slightly matted from quickly drying blood.
“Go to sleep okay, we’ll talk in the morning.” The man said, slowly trying to remove his hand from Zuko's wrist. Zuko didn't know why, but the idea of the warm hand leaving him made him shiver. He fumbled as he tried to grab onto the man's wrist. His movements were sloppy, but the man seemed to get what he was trying to do. He stopped trying to move away and instead moved to fully grasp Zuko's hand. It felt nice.
Zuko’s eyes were sliding shut, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Someone was holding his hand in a way that reminded him of how his uncle did when he had first been burned and was recovering.
"We can talk tomorrow if you're up for that, okay?"
Zuko could barely even comprehend what was said but an “Okay” was quietly rasped before he succumbed to sleep.