Authors note: If any of you read my previous story, you will recognize part of Zuko's past. I completely plagiarized from myself, lol. Hope none of you mind too much.

When they stopped again, both were breathless. Katara sat back on the sand, heart pounding. Zuko looked down at the ground, and both were silent for a long time. Then Zuko said, softly, "I'm glad you came out here." She looked at him curiously, remembering how she had found him. Though she wasn't sure it was a good time to bring it up, she had to try. If it made him mad, she'd drop it.

"Why are you out here, Zuko? Why are you so embarrassed to let anyone see you cry?" He looked down at the ground again, frowning slightly. She bit her lip and sighed. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."

"No. You deserve to know the truth. I just . . . I've never talked to anyone about this before." He raised his eyes and looked at her, and she could tell he was serious – not that usually wasn't. With a sigh, he started to tell his story.

"I know you think my dad is cruel, but honestly, you don't know the half of it. He's hated me, Katara, ever since Azula came along and proved to be so much better than me." Katara wanted to protest that fact, but kept her mouth closed. It wasn't her place to talk – plus, she was afraid if she interrupted she wouldn't get Zuko to talk again. "He used to punish me harshly for everything. It's like he thought somehow if he was tough enough with me I'd turn into the perfect little heir he'd always dreamed of." He took a deep breath.

"Back home, I wasn't allowed to cry. My father used to tell me that only girls cried – and only weak girls, at that. He used to punish me for doing so. The day my mother disappeared, my father found me crying in the gardens. I was ten. He took my hand and dragged me back to the palace, to my room. After removing my pants he forced me to kneel on the ground, then lower my upper body as though bowing to him. He told me that I shamed him, and that he would remind me why boys don't cry. I got two dozen strokes with a cane, and a warning that if he ever saw me crying in public again he would beat me then and there. So I haven't." His voice wavered ever so slightly as he added, "Not even when he burned me." Katara gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, tears pooling in her eyes.

"He's the one who burned you?" Her stomach turned at the thought.

"He was teaching me a lesson. I spoke out of turn at a war meeting when I was thirteen. I wasn't even supposed to be there; I'd begged Iroh to let me in, and he agreed as long as I promised not to talk. But then this old general suggested using young, inexperienced troops as bait, and I couldn't hold my tongue. I was challenged to an Agni Kai, and I agreed because I thought I'd be facing the general. When the time came, though, I found myself up against my own father. By speaking against the general I'd spoken against him. I refused to fight. In front of everyone watching, I proved – once and for all – that I was weak. So he punished me."

"That isn't punishment, Zuko." He laughed bitterly.

"My dad had a pretty loose standard of what punishment was. Sometimes he would heat his hands before he smacked me so that in addition to the sting I was lightly burned as well. It was like he got this sick sort of pleasure out of hurting me . . . he made me pay for everything I did, no matter how slight of an infraction. While Azula watched and laughed, or lied to get me in more trouble. She was free to do whatever she wanted. When my mom was still around she would try to protect me, but it just made him angrier that she babied me. He got even worse once she was gone." He looked at her sadly. "I'm the reason she had to leave. When my cousin died, Uncle Iroh's bloodline ended. My father asked to be named heir; for his insensitivity, my grandfather ordered him to kill me. He would have, too, but my mother stepped in. I don't know what she did, exactly, but the next morning my grandfather was dead, my father had been named heir, and my mother was gone. My dad loved her, far more than he ever loved me. Seeing me, alive, and knowing that was the reason she was gone fueled his anger and hatred even more. So he'd beat me." The last sentence was spoken so matter-of-factly Katara felt as though her heart was breaking.

"Oh, Zuko," Katara murmured sadly. She had tears in her eyes at the thought of him, young and scared, being beaten by his father. In that moment her hatred towards Ozai increased beyond what she had ever imagined herself capable of. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. "Why did you let my dad spank you? You could have refused; he wouldn't have fought with you." Zuko looked at her like she was slightly crazy.

"I messed up, Katara. Sokka and I both. I wasn't going to stand there and let him take all of the punishment for it and then walk away. It wouldn't have been honorable."

She looked at him, at the boy who used to be their enemy, and marveled at how he turned out. She leaned forward and kissed him again, softly. When she pulled back he bit his lip softly and looked down at the sand, embarrassed but pleased.

"I've done a lot of bad things, Katara. It took me a long time to realize that regardless of what I did, nothing would ever be good enough for my father; it took me even longer to realize that I didn't care. His version of honor and mine are not the same. I promise you, I'll do whatever it takes to restore balance in this world."

"I know you will." He blushed slightly at her complete trust in him, but felt his heart fill with gratitude all the same. Knowing he was taking a risk, he grabbed her and lay her down on the sand, laughing softly at the small squeak that escaped her lips, then rolled so that his body was on top of hers. He put all of his weight on his forearms, so as not to hurt her, and kissed her with a fierceness that surprised them both.

Katara wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. The heat radiating off his body was so strong she was almost sweating just from being near him; still, it delighted her. She wanted him closer. Her legs came up and wrapped around his hips and he moaned, long and low, against her lips. She could feel his hardness against her stomach, and felt her body respond. She whispered his name and he closed his eyes, lowered his forehead to hers. She realized with a start that he was shaking, badly. With a small sigh of regret, he gently pried himself loose from her.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this right now." Katara looked at him, frustrated. He noticed her expression and turned his head slightly. "I want to. You have no idea how much I want you, Katara." The anguish in his husky voice was apparent. "We need to go inside, though. I don't want the others to find us missing and worry." Though he didn't say the words aloud, Katara understood the message hidden within. If Hakoda found them out there like that, there was no telling what he would do. Zuko wasn't eager to find out – his butt was still sore from the spanking he'd received earlier. And though he knew she didn't want to admit it, Katara's relationship with her father was important to her – and on tumultuous ground as it was. He wasn't willing to be the factor that got in between them.

So, heavy with regret, they both stood and brushed the sand off their bodies, then headed back to the beach house. They did not say a word to one another. Both knew that they were not going to get any sleep that night.