i just called to say

Zuko stumbles backwards, far past worn out and having long since come off his adrenaline high. The door won't budge, no matter how many times he rams into it. His phone's flashlight shines onto the ceiling, dimly illuminating the only exit of the tiny basement room. Not even the doors into the rest of the basement will move. There's nowhere to go.

He is trapped.

Zuko shoots a death glare at the unassuming bag from Bath and Body Works sitting by the opposite wall. He can't hear any ticking, but he's certain it's on a timer. And judging by what he'd heard the thugs say through the ringing in his ears before they tossed him in here and how much time he's already wasted, he only has an hour left at most. And that is definitely, to say the least, an optimistic guess.

He drags himself over to drop himself next to the bag. What can he do? Can he do anything? Calling for help would be no good- there's no one in the abandoned district to hear him and the police certainly wouldn't be able to reach him in time if he tried to call. Not to mention he'd probably just be arrested for all the trouble.

Zuko throws his Blue Spirit mask on the ground in frustration and buries his face in his hands. There's nothing he can do. He's trapped in an abandoned building in an abandoned district with no one for miles and a ticking time bomb he can't defuse.

One slip up got him in all this mess. One little mistake, and he's dead. He's dead.

Zuko's head snaps up. No, no, he is not dying today. He can't die today, he has so much he wants to do, he hasn't even-

He hasn't even told Sokka he loves him.

Zuko tears the bag in half and reaches his hands towards the bomb to take it apart and stops. He can't defuse a bomb. Don't they explode if they sense someone opening them? He feels like he saw that on some crime show at some point. Even such musings end up pointless, anyway- the bomb is in an iron box, nailed shut. Impossible to open, no matter how hard he keeps prying until his fingers bleed.

Zuko stands up to pace. He's exhausted, but he'll be damned if he doesn't think of something, anything to get him out of here and back to his friends. His shoulder is aching from ramming every susceptible surface and his leggings are covered in grime from crawling on the floor to look for a vent, for anything but he can't give up, he can't-

Zuko freezes as a loud, short beep sounds from the bomb, the noise ringing in his ears much longer than it actually lasted. One, two, three seconds pass, and Zuko lets out a breath into the silence despite hardly feeling any relief. If that wasn't signaling an explosion, it certainly means he's running out of time. No, not even running out anymore, he's...

He's out of time.

Zuko falls back down to the floor again, feeling the full weight of his helplessness finally crashing down on him.

He's going to die here. Here, alone, far from Aang, and Suki, and Mai, everyone. Far from Uncle. Far from Sokka.

Zuko sits limply against the wall, head hanging. All his frantic energy has been drained completely, not a drop left to fuel him. He's going to die. This is the end. The actual end end. He didn't get to... do anything.

He'd promised to take Toph to try her first taste of the spicy noodles from his favorite restaurant tomorrow, after she'd insulted his refined tastes by describing them as simply "just stuff it with spices and now it's his new favorite food!" The Smash Bros. tournament at Suki's was only a week away- the rivalry between her and Mai had gotten so strong even fellow participants were making bets on who would win when they finally rematched. Aang had been talking about his plans to cheer Katara up with a surprise birthday party to remind her it's ok to be a kid sometimes for just about forever now, saying she deserves some time to not feel the need to take care of everyone else. Sokka had kissed him softly in the latest hours of the night and Zuko had almost let himself say those three words under the dim light.