A/N: Okay so basically I should give you some background. This story really has no set point- considering I know next to nothing about the actual cartoon. This is a Zutara- which i am actually not very fond of. I didn't think this would be appropriate as a slash though and I don't really think the other girls would fit. So anyways, Here's My story!


Scars

By Jaysnow-Silverblaze


A tear slips down my cheek and drips onto his pale chest. Seeing him now, on the edge of death, barely holding on, it breaks my heart.

He has so many scars. I know he didn't-doesn't I correct myself firmly- like scars, they represent weaknesses, mercies he has been granted. I just never knew just how many there were. The burn on his eye, his most visible is clenched- even in unconsciousness.

With a shaking hand I trail my fingers across it, wincing at the heat that seems to simmer off of it. I have never been ashamed of his scars like he has but that doesn't mean I like them. If he hadn't already been dead I would have destroyed his father for even giving him one.

My hand trails around his burn, his sweating brow, his cheeks… his soft lips. He doesn't know I love him. I probably will never tell him, this time alone in the medical tent is all the time I am allotted to be alone with him. Carefully I push my hair behind my ears and lean down before whispering to his lips, "Don't die on me Zuko. Please… don't die." I kiss him tenderly for a moment, knowing that will probably be the first and last kiss we ever share.

My hand trails down to his neck then falls flat on his chest. There are the majority of his scars… I stroke each and every one. They are beautiful- I might not like how he got them but there is something that defines him in those scars, lessons, mistakes, sacrifices. I check his bandages again, then call up water to my hands and cool his face.

Carefully I pull down the sheet to reveal his lower half. His legs are riddled with scars. Weapon wounds, scorch marks, fresh wounds that will have to be bandaged again.

I try not to blush as I look at his lower abdomen. If it wasn't for the large gash on his thigh leading inward I would have let him keep his dignity- consciousness or not- but for now he has nothing on. I refuse to stare and work quickly to re-administer the salve to his large cut and bandage it the best I can for its awkward position.

There is a sound and I freeze; my hands stationary as they hold down the medical tape to keep the gauze steady. Is it possible? My hands deftly finish their job and I raise the sheet before listening to his chest. His heart is still beating… still dangerously…slow? No… it isn't it is beating fine.

I press my hand to his forehead. His… his fever is broken! I almost sob in relief. He won't die! I almost kiss him again with relief but remember myself before I do so.

It will never work between us. He is a fire nation prince; I am the sole water bender to a water tribe halfway across the globe. My eyes linger on his tensed face. I am still in love… no matter what common sense says.

My fingers caress his tensed forehead and his taut jaw. I want to see him relaxed and sure of his safety, of the presence of friends. My fingers trail down his face; he has such a masculine face for one so thin graceful, his scars only accenting that.

A hand clenches around my wrist and I gasp. My eyes are drawn to Zuko's. He should be sleeping but his eyes are riveted to mine. We say nothing…

Finally he lowers my hand onto his chest, not releasing my wrist. Not once do his eyes stray from mine and I find myself entranced by his as well, not blinking at all. I tense as I realize his other hand has risen to my face.

I don't know what to expect, considering we have never really gotten along in the past- more due to our too-similar personalities then any one person. He doesn't do any thing I expect though. He caresses my cheek, his fingers threading through my hair that has fallen out from behind my ears where I had tucked it.

I can feel a blush rising to my cheeks but still I find myself unable to look away from his yellow eyes; unable to turn away in embarrassment. His hand on my wrist rises to my forearm, my elbow, my upper arm; and still I cannot look away.

He is pulling me forward, I dare not pull away, even if this is a hallucination induced by my bedside vigil that is now three days straight. His hand cups my cheek. Oh but this feels so real…

I have one last glimpse of startling yellow eyes before his soft lips are against mine and my eyes have closed of their own accord.

Zuko is beautiful. He may not like the adjective used to describe him but that is all I can find him. He is graceful, he is aristocratic, he is slim without seeming feminine, he is handsome, and his lips… whoever says that lips feel like rose petals has never kissed someone who truly, honestly loves the one they are kissing and realizes that there is nothing that can compare; not the most expensive silks, the most delicate butterfly wings, the most velvety rose.

The kiss only lasts for a few seconds but it feels like eternity. He pulls away and I open my eyes slowly. He isn't smiling but… his eyes hold such tenderness I almost feel overwhelmed. His hand drops from my cheek and I raise my hand to trace his scar once again.

He winces, but more out of feeling ashamed for his scars than pain. I carefully brush his eyelid down and kiss his burn. He may hate his scars but I find something so purely Zuko in them that I couldn't hate them if someone held a sword to my throat and ordered me to.

A slow, miniscule smile slides over his lips and I feel myself returning the smile. He opens his eyes and stares into mine. "I promise I won't die Katara."

Ah… so he heard that- er felt that- did he? My blush rises but I smile all the same, "See that you don't."


A/N: Edit- 3/14/13 grammar & tense shifts. nothing important.