AN: Unexpectedly, I had a bit of fun writing this, even if it got long and I feel like I went a little overboard (get it?). Reviews are greatly appreciated; I still don't really know how to feel about writing Zuko like this. He's always been (in all his inner strife) kinda dramatic, choppy, reflective and self-destructive to me, so I mostly went with that.

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Death By a Thousand Cuts

i.

Her hand had been cold the first time she touched him; the first time Zuko let someone touch his scar.

The constant reminder that he hadn't been good enough, that he hadn't fit perfectly into his designated frame the way his sister did. But when this simple water tribe peasant touched that charred and twisted skin, it felt like those fingertips weren't made of flesh and bone like any others, but of a mountain river.

Then the touch and sensation was gone as soon as it'd come, and he was thrown back into his too hot, fiery feelings of self-loathing and confusion. He saw the Avatar bring his arms around her and shoot him a glare, and Zuko understood all too well.

Later, as he stood there next to his sister, wondering why he was feeling more like a mindless drone than the supposed perfect prince he had become, he thought of how she had trusted him so easily. And even though the only physical, worldly thing they shared was losing their beloved mothers, the feelings that they constantly went through because of that were numerous.

She understood that fundamental hole in his chest, of not having what was desired the most. To have gentle hands stroke your cheek and tickle your sides until it hurt.

She could have helped me; made me realize everything faster.

ii.

When Zuko had seen her bloodbend, he had been entrapped. He was enthralled by her horrid way of controlling people. He watched as she made the man bow, made him fear for his life with good reason.

Her blue eyes were dark, and it wasn't because of the lack of lighting or from reflecting the black garb they were wearing. Her eyes were holding back oceans, holding down tsunamis and hurricanes of emotions and pain that he understood all too well.

Fingers so nimble and that he'd seen her heal with, had saved the planet's last hope with, suddenly seemed twisted and tarnished. A disease had wound around the digits and rotted away the skin to show the raw, dripping flesh and bleached bone. But then he blinked and the disgusting image had fled.

She was still standing there, arms outstretched with all her anger and resentment that had festered through the years.

Suddenly, for a moment, Zuko understood they weren't similar but that they were the exact same.

They were from different nations, bended different elements, had different opinions, different frowns and different colored skin and eyes. Everything made them seem like they were opposites and unconnected, but he had the epiphany now that it wasn't the case.

She was just like him in how she let her anger control and contort her real self. She was stubborn and strong and stupid enough to follow through with it, too. She had pure will, pure resolve to make dead things, like honor, faces and smiles, alive.

When her eyes flashed over to him, silently telling him to help her, he felt a shiver go down his spin.

As Zuko threw the man against the glass and heard the man's words, he felt guilt for not stopping her, for not telling her to overcome the anger and bitter feelings. He knew that Aang was right there, but it was too late for that now.

Because he'd seen her scowl, had seen the power in those eyes and seen her teeth flash in warning.

Zuko had seen her strikingly beautiful and he wouldn't forget.

She was dangerous; I had no idea she could stop a heart and life with a flick of her wrist.

iii.

The victory, and everything before and after, seemed to blur for the newly crowned Fire Lord.

First there was the feeling of helplessness, at not being able to even crawl to her aid. To see the two shades of blue, one of disaster and hunger and one of courage and willpower, collide and hiss.

She came here to help, but not to help him; she had come to help herself. He could see through his scar narrowed eyesight that she came for revenge she hadn't been able to go through last time, when she had let the man who'd murdered her beloved Mother go. She wasn't expecting to kill Azula, and Zuko understood that, but she wanted to get back at his sister for what she put Aang through. And, more importantly, what she had been put through subsequently.

The young airbender didn't like to talk about it, and Zuko understood; he didn't like to even think about it. But Zuko saw that she kept her eyes trained on the scar when Aang wasn't facing her, and her face lost some of its bravery from the broken tattoo and brand of loss; a memory that she wished to erase and appease.

She had not come to redeem her Mother's memory or Aang, but herself. She hadn't been the one physically scared, but she had been cut somewhere deep none-the-less.

Then there was sudden relief, as he felt the water on his burning, eroding chest. Even the hysteric screams from Azula couldn't stop the feeling of success when she put a hand on his shoulder, and he noticed her fingers squeezed his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt; as if to remind them both that this was reality.

When they were at the shop and Zuko watched her leave to follow Aang, he felt a pain in his chest. He had thought it was happiness at seeing them finally connect; he later discovered that it was something else entirely.

I felt, as they came in blushing and smiling, the high of victory first begin to ebb away.

iv.

Zuko didn't say her name, because then that made her even more real to him.

He barely saw her now, even if he was constantly with Aang. He met and got to know her beyond their short time together through her boyfriend, through his stories. It was a nice change from diplomatic meetings and monologues that continued even after the sun went down. To hear of a silly girl who liked to dance in the rain; it was refreshing.

When he recognized the overwhelming feeling, when he backtracked through all the times and brief touches and half-hearted smiles, he saw that the seed had been planted years back; years back when he was confused and lost and she had seemed so strong even through her tears.

It was years before he had reunited with Mai and had felt her warm lips splay across his skin and for her breath to make his body arch in desire. Years before Mai had become his wife; before they began sharing a bed.

Aang liked to babble and got lost in the stories; he never noticed Zuko's face that would filter the pain beneath for split-moments. How he took those stories and stored them away into the dark crevices in his mind.

He lied next to Mai and thought, as his hands that used to go for her face getting tangled in her straight, perfectly black hair, what her hair felt like; it always seemed so wild and untamed.

The days were busy and his hand now mostly hurt from signing treaties and agreements to help their struggling economy, but Zuko always took time to sit by the lake and watch the turtle-ducks swim by. They go by in their spot-perfect lines, their little webbed feet paddling them serenely around the water; they were ignorant to everything outside their perfect world and it made Zuko frown in envy.

It was one of these times when she found him, and Zuko felt his eyes widen as he saw the beautiful young women sit aside of him and let her feet dangle in the water.

She turned to him and her placid face stretched into such a smile that made him turn away. Even though he felt incredibly guilty for some unknown, unseen reason, he smiled as well.

They talked about everything and nothing and even though Zuko managed to keep his tongue moving and working, his mind was already jolting and gears were being blocked, cranking and screeching against each other.

She was just like her element, so healing and soothing Zuko would think it impossible if it wasn't happening to him right now. The way her soft voice rolled over the squawks of the ducks that had collected for the bread she brought, the way her light laughter echoed as the floating animals began nibbling at her toes.

He kept closing his eyes and she asked if he was tired and he just shook his head; he knew he was simply trying to memorize her voice and the way she made him feel like he was finally at peace. She was almost like his Mother in how she always knew what to do, how to give the lightest of touches and words and he'd feel immensely better. He almost told her this, but something stopped him and the moment passed; it couldn't be returned.

Then her name was being called across the garden and Zuko was slammed back into reality. He felt the weight of the golden flame in his hair, of the robes that fell over his shoulder and down his slumped back.

She had shot up in a second, and Zuko watched her make footprints with dripping feet on the tiles until she threw herself into Aang's arms; he was smiling and laughing even if he had been a little caught off guard. He tried to wave to Zuko, but it seemed the girl in his arms was too much to multi-task with.

Zuko looked away from them, down to her watery footprints. Yet the sun had already evaporating them to just damp blobs, indistinguishable for evidence of how she'd been sitting with him.

When he saw her and Aang come up to him, he snapped his head away and said he had to get going. They looked at him with sad eyes and confused, knotted eyebrows, but Zuko said it was important and that he had to leave.

He knew he had to get away before he ruined some of the few valued friendships he had with these rash, unwanted feelings.

The firebender barely made it to his private quarters before, for the first time in years, he bellowed out in rage.

Some say you can't lose and miss what you never had; trust me, don't believe it.

v.

He didn't need to open the scroll to know what it read inside; he could tell by the insignia on the outside who it was from and what it was pertaining to.

But Zuko knew he had to go; the airbender had become his best friend through everything. Even though he didn't want to feel that undeniable gnawing in the cavern below his rib cage at her crystal eyes, Zuko knew.

The ceremony was quick, but long enough for Zuko to stop feeling his fingers and for his heartbeat to echo like a broken drum. He looked around at the parkas of the grinning and crying southern water tribe people and realized he would have to get one. Maybe then he could stop feeling so cold.

He was a little surprised when he had been grabbed up by the bride herself, and she had swept him into the middle of the dance floor with grace that he thought impossible in the heavy, disgustingly bright dress she was wearing.

And then she had looked up at him and smiled, smiled like she was the happiest person in all the nations and world.

And Zuko wished, without any concrete expectation or provocation, that it was him.

That it would have been him she had first danced with, him she would share a bed tonight and repeatedly moan out his name, him she would raise and love their children with.

And all those moments and memories were like cracks; they had run through Zuko's head and had finally converged in this moment. They had converged to break him, they had come down and he had crashed.

He wondered, as he smiled back, why he couldn't have realized this infatuation before it was too late. He had recognized his destiny and place in this world, but he hadn't realized the hands and the heart that made such a stunning woman in front of him until now. Until they were both married to different people and his wife was due for their first child in three months.

They both had another, he had too many responsibilities while she was too pure. And there was the constant knowledge that there had never been a sign. In all his thoughts about her, there had never been a moment where he could breath life into something that had never been destined to live. He couldn't find their connection, because there had never been one all along.

There were too many factors against these irrational, bubbling feelings.

Fire and water couldn't make anything, just steam up and dissipate.

Her hands squeezed his shoulder and hand and he was spun back towards that day they had conquered the biggest evil in his life; when they had conquered his sister together. She had been there, and he had seen her, but he hadn't felt her until now.

She had always been there in some way, like waves eroding his senses and what he knew. She was like her omnipresent element; no matter how much he tried to burn and evaporate, she would always come streaming back. Her calming nature had infected him.

Unexpectedly, before he could stop himself, he pulled her close and smelled her sickly-sweet hair that tickled his jawline.

He lies; he whispers in the shell of her ear that he is happy for her.

She would have healed me.