A/N: My first actual new offering in the way of a new story in many years. I apologize for the angst, I admit I had a hard time writing it, but it gets better, I promise! I hope everyone likes it, please read and review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Not even Zuko...*sob*

He glanced up and tensed, he was sure he'd heard a sound. "Uncle?" There shouldn't be anyone on the ship with him; even Uncle was supposed to be off on some stupid walk. He deftly leaped out of his cot and ran over to the door, opening it quietly. "Uncle, is that you?" He frowned, glancing around with a look of worry and jumped through the door, assuming a fighting stance, muscles taut and ready for battle.

He looked left and right, then crept down the hallway and jumped into the next corridor, ready to fight. All was silent and empty. He frowned again and walked down the hallway in search of whatever had made the sound he heard. He finally made it into the control room above the deck and looked around, scratching his head in confusion.

There seemed to be no reason for his alarm, but as he walked forwards something caught his eye outside and he whirled around in shock. It was the evil green mutated parrot-like creature that belonged to those disgusting pirates they had previously done 'business' with. His mouth dropped open; suddenly the creature took to the skies with a "squawk!" and his eyes widened in surprise and realization.

Suddenly, out of nowhere it seemed, came the sound of an explosion and the ship shook beneath him, he threw out his arms to steady himself, gasping and crying out in alarm, when all at once there was fire everywhere; instinctively he did the only thing he could do and attempted to shield himself within a ball of his own fire, screaming in burning agony as pieces of the ship that had become shrapnel collided with his body and the entire ship exploded in a huge ball of flame.

Iro whirled around in shock when he heard the explosions. "Zuko!" He shouted, when he saw the heavy black plumes of smoke, and eerie glow on the horizon. He dashed back down the trail he'd taken just minutes before and past the hills to see the entire ship blown asunder and burning hotly. He ran to the edge of the pier and came to a halt, staring in abstract horror at the terrible sight; the fires from the ship causing waves of heat to assault his body.

"Zuko." In sorrow he uttered the name of his nephew, the young man he cherished as he had his own son. He bowed his head and his eyes shut, as if to shut out the pain. He'd lost another son.

Pain. His whole world was pain; terrible sharp, throbbing, burning, excruciating pain. He thought he would lose his mind from the intensity of it. He gasped and choked, water pouring out of his mouth. He coughed and choked again, unable to stop himself even though just those actions alone somehow caused him even more pain. He lay on the bank of the river, half in and half out of the water.

He tried to focus, to force his mind to give him a reason as to why he was there, but it would not. He couldn't remember anything. There was only the water, the ground underneath him, the cold, and the pain. He tried to move, reason attempting to assert itself through the haze in his brain.

He needed to get out of the water. He moved his arms with difficulty and pressed his hands into the bank, attempting to push his upper body off the ground far enough so that he could pull himself into a sitting position. He only managed to lift his chest away from the dirt a few inches before he collapsed, causing a fresh burst of agony throughout his body, this time concentrating around his torso.

He moaned and instantly began coughing again, spitting out what he hoped were the last drops of water in his lungs. He lay still afterwards, trying to work past the fog that hung over his thought processes. He felt warm and cold, all at the same time; smelled the horrible stench of burning oil, and heard somewhat distant yet very loud cracking sounds of an extremely large fire.

He wasn't sure how he knew all these things, just that he knew them. Suddenly he felt a terror he had never before felt, he'd forgotten something, something important, something horrible. He concentrated on the sound of the fire, the sound of the water, and even through the pain he began to feel more peaceful. Feeling surer of himself this time, he turned slightly to the right, flinching in pain, swiveled his hips and began to draw his legs up to himself so he could get a better position to sit up.

The pain burst again, but he gritted his teeth and moved through it, pushing with his arms as well. He was mostly on his left side now, and in a perfect position to watch his legs as he pulled them out of the river. The moment his right leg pulled free of the river he saw, and felt such a horror as he had never known in his entire life. He opened his mouth and screamed, and screamed.

The shock turning his body into a boneless mass, and he collapsed once again onto the bank of the river, screaming and writhing in agony and shock as the cold water no longer numbed the long stump of what had been his right leg. His head wouldn't, couldn't accept it. He was mindlessly thrashing about in his torture until finally, mercifully, he fell unconscious.

Iro stood at the burning ship for what seemed like an eternity before slowly turning and stumbling back up the dock to the shore. He couldn't believe Zuko was dead. The boy had endured so much in his lifetime, how cruel for fate to take him now. Why had the ship exploded in the first place? Was it something faulty, or something more sinister? These thoughts and more pounded in his brain as he trudged slowly back up the path he had been on when the explosion happened. He wasn't sure where he was going yet; he didn't much care at that moment, if truth be told.

All at once his whirling thoughts were interrupted as an ear-splitting scream cut through the night air like a terrible knife. It was so anguished, so full of pain, the old man knew who had made the sound. He spun around and raced back down the path as fast as his aged body would take him. He ran in the direction of the sound as more screams created a horrible bubble of fear and apprehension in his stomach.

Suddenly the screams died, and he could hear nothing besides the crackling and groaning of the burning ship. He was not far from the bank of the river, it didn't take him long to consider logically that judging by his proximity to the sound, if Zuko had washed ashore with the concussive shockwave of the explosion he should be on this side of the river. He had no way of knowing which way to go however, upriver, or down; he hadn't been able to pinpoint the sound well enough for that before it disappeared.

For the first time in a very long time he felt on the verge of panic, a feeling the normally calm and self-assured general was unused to experiencing. He stopped, forcing himself to breathe, to calm down, and think rationally. It was nigh unto impossible. Finally he simply chose a direction and hoped it was the right one. It wasn't long before he found that he had chosen correctly.

The scene that met his eyes was one he would later wish he could erase from his memory, but, for some reason, it persisted throughout his days. He saw his beloved nephew, his Prince, the light of his life if he would admit it, laying partially on his side in the dirt, soaking wet, his clothes nonexistent having been burnt off his body by the intensity of the flames. His body was covered in burns and lacerations, some cuts deeper, much deeper than others.

Suddenly Iro froze, his gaze reaching the boy's legs, at least, what was left of them."No…" He exclaimed in shock and horror. It couldn't be… He felt emotion welling up inside him, pain and sorrow and guilt. He shoved it down and swallowed hard, shaking off the horror he felt and running to Zuko's side. "Zuko!" He cried, "Zuko can you hear me?"

He stretched two fingers down to the boy's throat to search for a pulse; finding one, albeit faint, he heaved a sigh of relief and reached for the boy's shoulders and gently moved him onto his back and pulled the rest of his body out of the water. He shuddered inwardly as he saw the gruesome stump of his nephew's leg up close, and smelled the stench of burnt flesh. He looked away, unable to stop himself.

He saw the boy's other leg and nearly groaned, his stomach feeling as if he should wish he had never eaten food in his life. Not only had Zuko lost a goodly part of his right leg during the explosion, but his left foot was missing the front part, just behind the toes. It was simply gone; somehow sliced off with possibly the same piece of ship metal that had taken the prince's other leg.

It was almost too much for general Iro. Yes, he was a battle-hardened general who had seen many a war, and many a dead body, much gore and blood; however, none of them had been his own nephew. Even when he had lost his son, it was agony, but somehow still different from this.

The old man swallowed hard and willed his mind and body to cooperate as he removed his outer robe and placed it over the boy, ever-so-gently scooting his hands underneath Zuko's shoulders and thighs, trying to avoid the stump. He lifted the prince off the ground, slightly grunting as he turned to quickly scan the area before choosing to slowly trudge off into the large nearby forest.

He had a feeling this night had not happened without reason, and as such, it would be safer to stay hidden. Even if it had not been, it would have been too far to carry Zuko to any town. He only hoped he could keep the boy warm enough while he carried him. He would have to find a place to camp for the night and tend to Zuko's wounds as best he could while he was unconscious and wait for him to awaken before he could attempt to leave to find a town.

It was sunrise almost before he knew it. Somehow he had managed to find a suitable place to make camp, and had heated a place on the ground to lay Zuko until he could fashion a quick makeshift shelter. Now, the boy rested peacefully, he hoped, and he was exhausted. He had found a stream nearby, and had torn off a portion of his outer robe to use as a wash rag; very gently cleaning out Zuko's wounds and trying to prevent infection if at all possible. He finally lay down near the fire he'd made, nearly collapsing in fatigue. He was asleep almost before his head hit the arm he was using as a pillow.

Sorry it's so short, feedback feeds the muse!:)