Memento Amor

Summary:After betraying his Uncle—and ultimately himself—beneath Ba Sing Se, Zuko is involved in a freak accident. Given another chance by the spirits, Zuko is placed in the body of a cat and must redeem his own honor. This time though, he must remember to love, and he somehow finds himself chasing the Avatar in an entirely different way...Kitty! Zuko

Story Pairing: Zuko/ Aang

Chapter Rating: T

Disclaimer: First of all, under different circumstances, I WOULD NEVER KILL ZUKO! Just so you all know. Secondly, all characters of Avatar: The Last Airbender are property of Nickelodeon. Thirdly, all song lyrics belong to the American alternative metal band, Flyleaf.

Overwhelming guilt.

That's all Zuko felt as he watched the Dai Li agents filing into the chamber and filing out after receiving Azula's orders. Azula, his biological younger sister, had already made her self quite comfortable in the former Earth King's throne. Somehow, despite of all the power and responsibility with which the seat came, Azula managed to look calm. Bored, even. She lounged in the oversized chair with her legs crossed and right elbow propped on the armrest, cheek cradled in her palm. Her effortless control was that of a true Fire Nation heir, and this fact briefly angered and confused Zuko.

How can she just sit there? How can she be so lax when Uncle is…? Oh yeah, Zuko remembered. He was the one having the breakdown because he was the one who'd betrayed their Uncle Iroh.

The guilt was back: seemingly heavier than before its moment of absence.

Zuko allowed his self to slump against the back of the throne, to Azula's left, after the last member of another group exited the room. With a barely audible sigh, the seventeen-year old pinched the bridge of his nose. It had only been a few days since that fateful night beneath the palace. Even though that girl from the Southern Water Tribe managed to get away with the Avatar's body, it was claimed to be just that; a corpse. How had Zuko let this happen? He never would have imagined that he'd be given credit for slaying the Avatar. After all, what good would come of killing his father's greatest enemy if the Avatar would just be reincarnated somewhere else? According to Azula, however, their father—Lord Ozai; the Fire Lord—would accept Zuko simply for being the one to end the Avatar's current life.

The thing was, though, that Zuko hadn't been. Azula had.

Yes, Zuko felt guilty. He would be returning to the Fire Nation with regained honor for a murder he hadn't committed, while his uncle was being locked away behind bars somewhere. His Uncle Iroh. The man who'd felt more like a father to Zuko over the past several years than his own father ever had. The person who'd supported and believed in him even when he'd been banished from his home. The one who'd cared for him even as he wore the branded mark of a traitor.

Zuko had possible betrayed the last person to ever potentially love him. Thinking this for what had to be the hundredth time in the past forty-eight hours, Zuko sighed again.

"Was that Midday meeting Hell enough for you?"

Zuko's attention was again pulled to Azula. He soon noticed though that the chamber was void of all life but the two siblings, and that meant Azula must have been speaking to him. Oh, Zuko realized, slightly surprised because Azula hadn't addressed him directly since much earlier that day. Forcing his self to somber up, Zuko racked his brain: what had she just said? Zuko's mind had been under a smoky haze ever since the weight of his betrayal had sunken in. Something about a meeting…?

"You've been out of it all day." Azula continued, not seeming to care in the slightest that her brother hadn't responded yet. Her cool but sharp gaze narrowed in on Zuko, whom she could just see behind the throne with her peripheral vision. The female continued. "You must be tired of all this political talk."

"I can handle it." Zuko snapped quickly, and a bit more harshly than he'd intended to.

He didn't want Azula to know that he was still moping. She'd probably just get annoyed, seeing as how she wasn't the comforting type—and thought their uncle deserved what happened anyway. He also didn't want to tell her how he really felt about the mentioned Midday meeting. It had been Hellish, but not for the reasons Azula assumed. Instead of being overwhelmed, Zuko rather believed he hadn't belonged there. He didn't feel like himself—dressed in heavy red and black robes with his growing hair pulled back with a clip. He'd actually been dreading his return to the Fire Nation if it meant having to listen to old guys discuss the "perfect world" all the time.

Perhaps it was because he knew, better than anyone, that the world was far from perfect.

Zuko also didn't want to alert Azula to his most recent stress factor. The feeling in his gut. The knowledge of a certain Waterbender's miraculous healing water from a spiritual oasis. The fact that he'd witnessed the Avatar elusion of death on more than one occasion. The possibility that somewhere; out there right now, the last Airbender was very much alive.

The teenager sighed and closed his eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Sorry," he mumbled to his sister, who was watching him in amusement. "I guess I am a bit fatigued."

Azula smirked. "Of course you are. So why don't you go rest then, Zu-Zu? It will be a long trip back to the Fire Nation and we leave tomorrow."

Zuko opened his eyes. I forgot, he thought. Someone had mentioned something about the morning departure sometime during the meeting. He remembered this only because of the distinct sinking feeling he'd had when he'd been told. But just as he did earlier, he now simply nodded in acknowledgment before turning on his heel to leave the room. He didn't see Azula's smirk grow as she uncrossed her legs to cross them again the opposite way.

Figuring that he should probably prepare for the trip, Zuko reluctantly gathered his few belongings and took them to his private airship. That's right: his private airship. Only fitting, Azula had assured him, for a returning prince of the Fire Nation. Zuko hadn't had the chance to ask whether she had her own as the princess, but he figured she probably did.

In his quarters of the airship, Zuko sat on the edge of the plush bed with his small sack of personal items beside him. So much for packing, Zuko thought glumly. The only personal belongings he had were the same things he'd been traveling with ever since he'd come to Ba Sing Se: some first aid supplies, a sentimental portrait of his uncle, and his Duel Dao Swords. He'd lost or given up his other things, like the mask of the Blue Spirit, his extra set of clothes, some spare Earth Kingdom coins, and small parcels of food.

"You'll have all the food you can eat back at the Palace." Azula had commented when she'd caught him sorting his stuff the previous day. "And those clothes and coins are trash in the Fire Nation."

Zuko had frowned but complied. Now, Zuko felt awkward in the Fire Nation attire after so long as a refugee. But at least these clothes were more comfortable than the thick robes he'd been in all day. He briefly wondered when Azula had the time to send for his equipped airship, but he brushed off the thought. Not sure what to do now, the teen ran a hand through his dark hair. Without that "royal hair clip", its length was surprising—his bangs almost completely hiding his eyebrows were it not for its windswept style. He remembered the day he and Uncle cut off their ponytails after learning that they were wanted fugitives. How long ago had that been? It seemed like years. So much had happened between then and now…

Zuko's shoulders slumped as he reminisced about his gray-haired, tea-drinking, advice-giving travel companion. Iroh. Zuko wondered if his uncle hated him now. But for some reason, the thought of being hated by his uncle hurt more than the thought of never regaining his father's approval. So Zuko ended his half-hearted musings there.

He was tired. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep though. Partially because there was an odd, high-pitched whistling in his ears. At first he thought it was all in his head, but after focusing on the sound for several minutes, Zuko identified the sound as some whining machine in the engine room below. Somebody needs to fix that before we leave tomorrow… Zuko thought automatically, but regretted doing so when that same sinking feeling returned.

Zuko inwardly groaned and flopped onto his back. A few minutes of staring up at the cold metal ceiling, and the whistling sound seemed to be growing more insistent. Zuko rolled over onto his side. He drew his bag from the edge of the bed and curled up with it to his chest. Even though he'd be returning to his birthplace, he had a feeling that he'd still feel like the outsider. Just as he had been considered ever since his mother's disappearance all those years ago. The things in this bag were all he had to remind him of—what had become—his true identity.

Zuko, the ever wandering failure of a Fire Nation heir.

Zuko squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his mouth into a firm line. What's wrong with me? He wondered. He recalled the whole "I can shape my own destiny" speech he'd given the Waterbender during their imprisonment together. What happened to that confidence, huh, scar face? Not so tough without your grandpa of an Uncle around are you!

This wasn't good. His insecurities were gaining a voice.

I bet that's why you've never had a girlfriend.

Zuko tried his best to ignore the voice that sounded suspiciously like a younger version of Azula. He clutched the bag tighter to his body, the sheathed pair of swords inside poking into his abdomen. He attempted to replace the incessant whirring of his thoughts with memories of his Uncle's folk-singing. Ah yes, those songs. How had he ever found them annoying? What he wouldn't give to have Iroh playing one for him right now…

It was well past Midnight before Zuko finally drifted into a calm, trance-like peace of mind. Almost sleep, but not quite unconscious.

Perhaps it was all the time he'd spent on warships that put the Firebender on alert when the whistling finally stopped. He opened weary amber eyes to see the Fire Emblem tapestry hanging on the opposite wall, near the door. The room was dim, considering there were no windows here like on a Navy ship, and Zuko hadn't bothered to light a candle. He wondered what time it was. Had he over rested? Wouldn't somebody have come for him if he hadn't shown up to the Morning meeting? Had Azula told the crew not to disturb him and begin the takeoff already?

Zuko sat up. At first, he thought the motion sickness was a result of moving too fast. But upon getting to his feet to stretch, he deduced that the airship was actually already in the air. They were heading for the Fire Nation. How kind of Azula to notify me. Zuko thought sarcastically. But a part of him couldn't help but wonder if his sister genuinely cared about his health. She had been uncharacteristically…well…"kind" wasn't the word. More like…tolerable. Did she actually believe that Zuko could reclaim his rank in their father's eyes? Because honestly, Zuko wasn't sure if he even cared at the moment.

Curious as to how long he'd been in his quarters, Zuko crossed the room to the door. He knew that private airships weren't anywhere near as large as regular war aircraft; therefore it shouldn't be difficult to find the pilot's room. But just as the disheveled teen grabbed the door handle, well, he wasn't sure what happened. There was a loud groan of metal and he felt the floor jerk beneath him. The next moment, he felt as though he was being freed from gravity.

What's happening?

His stomach felt sickeningly light, and he just knew that it would float up and out of his throat any moment now.

It felt as if he was falling.

Zuko's grip tightened desperately on the door handle. Amber eyes darted frantically from wall to wall to floor to wall to ceiling to bed to scribing table. He watched in confusion as the table began to slide toward the bow of the aircraft, followed by the bed. His mind didn't register that his body was following until he was ripped away from the door handle. He was thrown into the right wall with a painful slam of his shoulder, grunting at the connection.

He could hear it now—the roaring of the engine below being strained by the ship's unbalance. Something was obviously terribly wrong. Zuko twisted his body so that his back was up against the bow-wall. The whole ship was on an angle, he realized with more than one kind of sinking feeling. Was the airship going to crash?

If so, where were the alarms?

Zuko didn't understand what was happening, feeling the frame of the airship trembling beneath him. But he knew that if he ever wanted to apologize to his uncle for betraying him, he had to get out of here. He didn't want his last memory of the man to be that of his disappointed gaze before he'd turned his head away. Zuko didn't wanting to forever be known as a disappointment. A failure. A traitor. Zuko shook his head before turning it to where the scribing table was sandwiched between the bed and the wall. His bag had tumbled forward from the bed to rest in the angle, and he could just reach it if he stretched his arm a little…That hurts! Zuko gritted his teeth, but managed to grab the bag. He slung it over his head awkwardly. Okay, so now what!

Before he could think of an escape route, the airship lurched again, throwing Zuko into the corner of the room. The furniture followed suit, and the table collided sharply into his lower ribcage. The Firebender hissed, but at least counted himself fortunate that the table's corner hadn't stabbed him. Still though, he was pinned. He felt the walls quaking, sending tremors through his own body. The floor beneath his feet shook the most, and Zuko somehow knew that the engine couldn't take much more of this. There was no doubt about it now: the craft was going to crash.

The airship groaned as its equilibrium was compromised. Zuko groaned too upon feeling his stomach deepen. He'd never been one to give up hope. His quick wit and determination to live had saved his life countless times. There had always seemed to be some way or another out of any tough situation he found himself in. But what could he do now? There was no longer the goal of capturing the Avatar to drive him forward, and he'd utterly let down the one who'd always cheered him onward. Without any sparks of hope in his line of sight, Zuko could clearly see the impossibility of his current predicament.

He was stuck in a corner with his back literally up against the wall. Even if he did gather the strength to fight gravity and escape the room, he had nowhere to go. The airship was falling from over a kilometer above ground, and he was pretty sure that by now, they had to be somewhere near the ocean; away from civilization. If he didn't die from the impact, he'd be wandering without food or water for days because all supplies would be destroyed. Who knew where the rest of the air-fleet was? If this airship was suddenly malfunctioning, who's to say the others weren't as well? Zuko's sigh was unheard beneath the engine's cry.

He hadn't properly slept for days and he was tired.

He'd probably dislocated his shoulder and it was screaming in pain.

He'd betrayed his uncle and the rest of his family didn't want him around.

The Avatar had probably survived Azula's lightning and he would be blamed for it.

He was going to die in this crash. And nobody would miss him.

Out of habit, Zuko touched a trembling hand to the callous scar over his left eye. "I used to think this scar marked me; the mark of the banished prince, cursed to chase the Avatar forever. But lately, I've realized I'm free to determine my own destiny, even if I'll never be free of my mark."

Zuko remembered that those had been his exact words to the Waterbender. He knew that his actions after speaking those words meant he'd betrayed her too; yet another person to whom he'd never have the chance to apologize. In fact, he'd never be able to apologize to the Avatar or any of his friends for what he'd put him through over the past several months. And what of his claim to his own destiny? As far as he knew, his destiny would end here.

Isn't everybody's destiny to die, in the end? Zuko mused darkly, dropping his hand from his somber face. He instead wrapped his arms around himself as a last embrace. I'm so stupid for ever have forgetting that. We all have to pass on eventually—my time just happens to be sooner than later…Hell, after everything that's happened, I deserve this.

In resignation, Zuko's one, panic-widened eye slowly relaxed. Finally, he submissively closed both.

Just moments later, Azula watched through a telescope as the crooked airship up ahead finally hit the ground. It exploded on impact. The blast could only be faintly heard from here, in the navigation room of her own airship. She smirked in satisfaction—red lips stretching—as she watched the broken metal structure be consumed by beautiful flames of destruction. Not everybody in the room, though, appreciated the magnificence of such a sight. This was indicated by the strangled cry of horror from behind her. Azula frowned and whipped around.

"What is your problem, Ty Lee?" the fourteen-year old princess snapped at the petrified girl before her.

Ty Lee, a pink-clad childhood friend, stood with her hands clamped over her mouth. Her frightened brown eyes were wide, and she couldn't tear her stare from the window's view. Disbelief, shock, and grief were mixed into the fear written all over the brunette's face. The fourteen-year old acrobat couldn't speak. Tears were gathered in the corners of her eyes, but even they refused to move any further.

"Zuko was in there, Azula!" spoke Mai, understanding Ty Lee's inability to speak. Completely dressed in black, the fifteen-year old raven stepped forward to place a hand on her braided friend's shoulder. Mai's amber gaze met Azula's, smoldering even though she wasn't a Firebender like the other. She, too, had grown up with Azula, being a governor's daughter. Mai continued, "Don't you care about your brother at all?"

"Why Mai, I'm surprised that you still did." Azula mused, folding her arms. The corner of her mouth lifted into another smirk. "I would've thought you'd gotten over your little crush. Oh well. It's not as if you can act on it now. Poor Zu-Zu…his only chance at romance will forever be out of his grasp." Azula shook her head in mock pity and sighed. "I guess I'll have to tell the Fire Lord in advance about this…misfortunate turn of events. Wouldn't want to get the people's hopes up with the announcement of the Prince's return. If you'll excuse me…"

Barely containing her grin, Azula brushed passed the paralyzed Ty Lee and glided out of the room. Mai, whose gaze was still fixed on where Azula had been standing, allowed her tense shoulders to slump. Her eyes softened with uncharacteristic sympathy as she turned to her friend. She lightly squeezed Ty Lee's shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture, but Ty Lee took it as in invitation to release her withheld emotion.

"M-Mai…" Ty Lee sputtered, turning to bury her face in her friend's clothing. She freely shed the tears that had been dammed by Azula's indifference. "Oh, Mai! All those p-people…and…Z-Z-Zu-k-ko…" she sniffed before continuing her tirade.

Mai, who usually closed off emotions, now couldn't help herself. She'd always admired Zuko from afar, but never dared to attempt an awkward confession. Azula and Ty Lee had both known about her "little crush", but only Ty Lee had ever supported her. After Zuko's prolonged absence, Mai's feelings had simmered down, but that didn't mean she didn't still care for him. To think that he was somewhere down in that wreckage was…

Mai raised her arms to wrap them around the trembling Ty Lee, closing her eyes to share her grief. She had to be strong, as she'd always told herself to be. But it was so hard…How had Azula been so…nonchalant? Opening her eyes narrowly in thought after a few moments, Mai remembered the lift of the Firebender's lips that she'd come to recognize as a smile. It couldn't be…did Azula…?

But before she could ponder the possibility further, the girl in her arms started to hyperventilate. Knowing that Ty Lee was naturally a pacifist who hated death, Mai focused solely on comforting the one person who wouldn't suffer unnecessarily if she could help it.

Remember you must die. Remember you will die. Remember to die. Memento Mori…

The darkness was foreign. It pressed down on him too heavily, and he was suffocating. He was trapped in the darkness. At the same time, though, the instability of the dark offered support against his feeling of free-falling. He was floating in the void—weightless—and he realized that he had no lungs to be suffocating. In fact, he had nothing. He was nothing. No body, no worries, no desires. Just a consciousness.

The silence would have been deafening if he had ears. But because he did not, the clamor of the quiet simply embraced him with the darkness—the darkness that would have been blinding if he'd had eyes. He realized that in spite of this bizarre setting, he wasn't afraid. He wasn't confused. He wasn't tired. He just…was.

He came to know this darkness as the darkest he'd ever known. Dusk like this was absolutely unnatural to him and couldn't possibly have actually existed. After a few moments though (or had it been minutes? Hours? Years?), he realized that the blackness didn't exist. The dark wasn't actually a myriad of shadows. Rather, warping and enveloping him were multifarious colors. Red danced with blue to make violet. Green spawned from blue and yellow, which'd had an affair with red to make orange. Orange wanted to be brown. Innocent pink was protected by magenta, cousin to lavender. Lime grew to forest green and communed with ocean navy. Blue-green couldn't decide if it was turquoise or teal, nor could burgundy decide to call itself maroon. Yellow and orange fought to be gold, who wanted to be known as amber. And gray, the love-child of black and white, proclaimed to be silver.

With so many mixing colors, the mirage was blinding-white pitch-blackness, and he realized that all was the same. One was all and all was one; the separation was only an illusion.

I feel like I've heard that somewhere before.

He tried to remember the words that were suddenly imperative to not have forgotten. The words had been so familiar…and something told him that whoever had spoken them had been trying to describe this moment. This feeling. This place.

Wait…what is "this place", exactly?

There was nothing: nothing but the colors and the light of the darkness and the screaming silence; nothing but the crowded empty void. There was nobody: nobody but him; he was alone. He had nothing, no body, and nobody else.

Who am I?

Ah, so you've finally awakened.

He didn't recognize the voice. But then, there had been no voice to recognize. It had sounded like the words on a page—spoken in his thoughts and not identified as either male or female. Hollow. Had it been his thought? It had to be. He was alone, after all.

Oh, you are never alone, Zuko.

Zuko? He thought. Was that his name? It did sound familiar…but no, it couldn't be. He wasn't sure how he knew, but something told him that "Zuko" was dead.

"Dead" is a state of mind, Zuko. The death to which you refer has been inadequately defined by the mortal world's ideal. True death is the absence of spiritual life, which is virtually impossible. Do you understand, Zuko? The death you believe in is only an illusion.

But then…where do things go when they..."die" by mortal standards? He wondered. If he was this "Zuko", he should have been dead. But if death was an illusion, then he very well could have been Zuko because he was is existence right now.

That, Zuko, is a question you will come to answer on your own in due time. The voice eluded. But for now, there are other matters on which you must be curious. For instance, where are you, Zuko? And why are you here?

He realized once the questions were voiced that they were, in fact, exactly what he wanted to know. But was the voice reading his thoughts, or asking him for an answer? He pondered, figuring it was the latter.

I suppose…I'm in the place called Limbo…And I'm here because…I physically died, but not spiritually…?

You are correct, Zuko, in your technical response. But do you know why you are here?

I already answered that. He thought, not sure what else the voice wanted to know.

All was quiet for a while—well, the same loud-quiet anyway. He floated motionless in the state of consciousness, waiting for some sort of reply. There wasn't one for what seemed to be several months compacted into a few seconds, and he was beginning to grow anxious for the first time since coming to awareness in the Void. Had he only been "talking" to himself, after all? If he had been, then searching for answers was pointless because his conscience was a part of him; therefore, the "Voice" didn't know any more than he did.

He grew apprehensive when he realized what else a nonexistent Voice meant: he was truly alone. And he would have to spend an eternity, in this unfathomable Void, alone.

Oh…he thought, despair rising in his absent throat. If he'd had eyes, he would've been crying. Oh, how he hated to be alone! What had he done to deserve this sense of inescapable solitude? Why him? Oh, what he wouldn't give; what he wouldn't do to end the cycle of loneliness. If he had to spend forever in this state of Limbo by himself, he just might actually, "spiritually" die.

So why…why did he sort of feel that he deserved this?

Oh Zuko, nobody deserves to be alone. But it seems you are beginning to recognize your reason for being here.

He began to berate himself for his conscience, which appeared to be mocking him now. But he paused in doing so. If he really did only have himself, should he be pushing his self away? If not with the intention of remaining sane, he could at least "talk" to himself for boredom's sake. In total solemnity, he mentally sighed and decided to amuse himself by inquiring.

So why am I here exactly, oh All-Knowing Voice?

The Voice briefly chuckled, which he thought was odd because it was one of those I-know-something-you-don't-know chuckles. And it was impossible for him to know more than he actually did, right?

Oh, youth can be so amusing. The Voice commented, clearly bemused. Zuko, you already know why you are here.

Okay, I never thought I'd be annoyed by myself, but you're really starting to piss me off with this cryptic crap. If he had a mouth, he would've been scowling.

Come now, Zuko. You've always been so clever. You've heard the rumor about spirits who can't pass on because they feel regretful—remorseful, guilty—correct?

Well, sure, but…He then realized that the Voice was referring to his earlier feeling of overwhelming guilt. Overwhelming guilt…

Exactly, Zuko. And what is it that you feel guilty for?

Being a traitor. He supplied automatically. Although, he couldn't remember who he'd betrayed or in what way…or how he could've let himself do something terrible enough for it to follow him into the afterlife—if that's what this was.

Precisely, Zuko. That is why you are here: because you can't forgive yourself for breaking faiths with other people. But most importantly, Zuko, you are here because you have broken faith with yourself.

He was speechless because when he thought about it, it was true. Somehow, he had disappointed himself. He couldn't remember how, or what he could do to make amends, or if he would ever even have the opportunity to anyway. But he doubted he deserved another chance.

Everybody deserves another chance, Zuko. And that is another reason why you are here: you are being given the chance at…a "do-over" of sorts.

You mean, go back in time?

No, Zuko. You must move forward in life because, remember, you live. Remember that you have to live. Remember to live, Zuko; Memento Vivere.

…Live? He was dumbfounded by the miraculous proposition. Is this…for real? This meant that he could work to fix everything he'd messed up. He'd be able to apologize to everybody he'd hurt and work to regain their faith in him. He would finally cease to consider himself a failure. And best of all, he wouldn't be alone anymore.

Actually, it's a coincidence that you should think that, Zuko…The Voice interrupted his excavation of hope. Oh, here it comes. He thought wistfully. I should've known there'd be a catch.

Not a "catch", per se. More like the terms on which your revival is based. You see, Zuko, you may not remember right now, but your life up to this point has been full of turmoil. Because that turmoil began so early in your life, you have yet to experience the single simple pleasure of being a human being.

And what would that be, Great Voice in My Head? Despite him not having one.

Why, Zuko…Love, of course.

That pulled him up short. What the hell was the Voice talking about? I know what love is, he thought defensively.

Do you really? Your past actions have demonstrated otherwise. The Voice stated.

Well…so what? He begrudgingly admitted, finding it useless to argue with his self. What does a concept like love have anything to do with my "revival"?

The Voice practically huffed in exasperation. Oh, Zuko, everything. Love has everything to do with it. You see, as cliché as humans make this sound, a life without love is incomplete and unfulfilled. The quantity, quality, and focus of one's love ultimately influence one's decisions because, in the end, the heart is stronger than the mind. Even people who aim to emotionally detach themselves are not completely free because it is in human nature to love others. You, Zuko, the Voice continued, have yet to utilize said aspect of yourself. Such is the regulation of your revival.

So…what is it, exactly, that I have to do? He asked, confused once again. He briefly wondered if he'd been as impatient in his past life, but dismissed the unnecessary thought.

You must love, Zuko.The Voice answered plainly—to his relief and slight surprise. Remember to love; Memento Amor.

You mean, all I have to do is fall in love? He mulled this over. He knew he'd sound arrogant by saying this but... That seems simple enough.

Predictable, Zuko. The Voice somewhat scolded, but was amused nevertheless. Love is a two-way street. An entrance as well as an exit. You not only must learn to give away your affection, but earn that of others' in return. Only then will you regain the faith you have lost in yourself and settle your inner turmoil. This leads to the matter of your body…

My body?

Yes, Zuko. Remember, you ended up here because you are technically dead by the mortal world's standards. Your previous human body has been damaged beyond repair. Usually, beings in your situation must dwell in their replacement bodies for the remainder of their reincarnated lives. You, however, have been allowed to reclaim your human form once you have fulfilled the terms of your resurrection because—

Wait. He interrupted. The Voice silenced. So let me get this straight…I have to fall in love, and be loved in return, but I won't be human? Then what am I supposed to be?

He wasn't given a verbal response. Rather, he slowly became aware of a tingling all around and throughout his consciousness. The colors of the Void began to pulse more rapidly, if such thing was even possible. And he felt warm. Wait, how was that possible, he wondered, if he didn't have a body? The warmth was growing and he still wasn't given an explanation. The Void was roaring as the soothing warmth rose to an uncomfortable heat…and he was beginning to feel feverish.

What's happening?

The colors were spinning madly, and amidst the stirring chaos, he realized that he'd somehow been able to detect the colors despite his lack of sight. Now, the Void was once again distorting, but this time actual light was seeping into his surroundings. It was bright. He was hot. He'd forgotten what it was that he'd wanted to know. He nearly forgot about the Voice as well, had it not chosen that moment with what he somehow sensed was a sort of farewell.

You'll do fine, Zuko. Just remember, you're never alone.

He couldn't reply. Everything was fading quickly around him: the darkness was melting to a pure white light. The shouting of the silence dulled to a familiar popping crackle. And he suddenly had a brief sensation of free-falling.

Then, all at once, everything stopped.

All was still, quiet, and he couldn't see a thing. The heat was gone, and in its absence, he felt rather cold. Colder than he ever remembered being. It was freezing.

Zuko opened amber eyes.

You can not fully live without
Knowing what you're here for right now

You're not here by accident
Life lives

If you don't know the way and you're lost
This truth will bridge the gap and carry you across

You're not here by accident
Life lives

A/N: Longest first chapter I've ever written. :O

So, what do you all think? Much more angst than romance in this chapter, obviously, but chapter two is when the fun begins. :D

~Thanks for reading, please review, 'Taku ^^