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Sal Fisher | This Room Will Scar You | strider

Sal was the last person to offer pity, no matter what the situation was. He’d been given it far too many times, by relatives and strangers alike, to try offering it himself.
Not to mention the fact that he didn’t feel it in the first place. Whatever had happened here was just none of his business, not until Zuko said it could be. Whatever this was…it wasn’t something he wanted to know without Zuko’s permission.
“I’m in here with you because I agreed to a room,” he pointed out, glancing at Zuko again. “It’s not like I didn’t know there were risks, and you didn’t drag me.”
He glanced away again, looking over the crowd. He didn’t like the intensity buzzing through it, as though it was jumping from person to person, gaining momentum with each leap. He knew crowds could be like that. He didn’t really want to imagine what would happen if it happened here.
“Okay…so you know how it’s supposed to go. And I’m guessing it wasn’t good,” he continued slowly, thinking. “But how do you know that’s what the House wants? Okay, maybe it’s the same situation. But maybe it’s supposed to go differently this time.”

Sal Fisher | This Room Will Scar You | strider

Sal had never liked the idea of pity. Maybe it had been his early exposure to it, but it had always felt like a socially acceptable way to make yourself feel superior to someone else. Bad things happened to everyone, some more than others. Treating them like they were fragile or clearly not bright enough to be an equal just because of that was all kinds of wrong.
He didn’t see Zuko any differently. He may not have known what had happened, but whatever it was, it had already happened when he’d met him, so why would it change anything?
He eyed Zuko. He wasn’t going to say he didn’t want to know. Mostly because he didn’t really want to be completely in the dark about what was happening, or what might happen. But he didn’t want Zuko to force it, either. That wasn’t fair, whatever the reason.
“Your call,” he said finally. “But if you don’t want to tell me, I won’t be mad. I’m giving you permission to leave me in the dark, I guess?”
He shook his head a little. “The point is, do what you want to do, because I don’t know enough to know. If you want to just tell me what to do and not tell me why, I’ll follow your lead, okay?”

Zuko hesitated, glancing around at the crowd one more time. He didn’t know how much time they had before they would start getting restless. He didn’t know if the crowd was a threat in this room or just a part of it. Would they take matters into their own hands if Zuko didn’t fight Sal? If he didn’t burn him? Zuko shuddered at the thought. He was technically playing the role of the Fire Lord, so maybe they would listen to him if he told them to quiet down. If they decided that they needed to provide some encouragement for Zuko to attack. Sal… well, Sal was probably defenseless here, if their previous room was any indication. If he could fight, if he had any powers… then he likely would have used them before.
“Okay,” Zuko breathed, letting his hands fall to his side. He wasn’t going to burn Sal except as a last resort. If it was him standing there, the version of him that hadn’t been burned yet… he shook the thought away. He had been punished that day for something that had been his own fault. He had thought the punishment unfair at first, but if that was unfair, what made his father fit to lead the Fire Nation? Why would Zuko try as hard as he was trying to go back home? It was too much to even consider thinking about, so his mind shut him down before he could even question whether he had done anything to deserve it. Whether the punishment had been just. Of course it had. Of course he had deserved it. It was as simple as that.
“The House wants me to burn you,” he said after a long moment, searching Sal’s gaze. “I’m… going to try to find a way to avoid doing that.”

“Yeah,” Zuko replied after a moment, giving a small shrug. “I wasn’t going to just… I don’t know. The House is going to have to try a lot harder if it wants me to hurt someone who doesn’t deserve it.” He gave what he hoped was a smile, turning back to look at the crowd one more time. They were beginning to get restless, stirring in their seats and muttering amongst themselves. If they decided to take matters into their own hands, this could get ugly. Zuko scanned the crowd. Did he recognize any of them? Were any of them firebenders he knew? He blinked, frowning a little as he realized that none of the crowd really seemed to have clear features. It was like they registered as human when he looked at them, but as soon as he looked away, he couldn’t recall what they had looked like. Which meant they were almost definitely house generated rather than blinkers. Somehow, that made them more frightening.
“We should… try to find a way out,” Zuko said distantly, turning away from Sal to see if he could exit the arena the way he had entered it the first time he had stepped foot there. There were no doors, this time. It was just the two of them, surrounded on all sides by a crowd. Zuko had never been claustrophobic before, but he felt the room start to close in on him now.

“Right,” Nico replied, watching as the butterflies changed. The light wasn’t as bright as he was used to, though he thought he might like this better. Not because the ashy, dull light was preferable, but because this was how Kelsier saw the sun. This was what it was like on Scadrial, and Nico enjoyed that peak into what Kelsier’s life was like. It was one more reason he thought he preferred his own world, but… Scadrial was important to Kelsier, even if it wasn’t what it once was. Even if the sun wasn’t the type that could actually support flowers. This was a dream. The impossible could happen here. Nico could visit Scadrial, if that was what Kelsier wanted.
“I wouldn’t want to mind control anyone, anyway. So that’s… fine.” He frowned a little, wondering what it would be like to actually take advantage of the power he had. He could give people good dreams when all their mind was willing to supply was nightmares. He could help people, if they would accept his help. He didn’t want to invade people’s dreams without their permission. He wouldn’t want others to invade his, after all.
“I could show you my world,” he murmured, eyes wide with the realization. “Maybe not all of it, but… enough of it. You could see what things are like, even if you don’t ever actually get to go there.” He didn’t’ mean to be taking away from what Kelsier had created here, though.
“I like the flowers here,” Nico whispered, letting his fingers graze over some of the petals. “They’re pretty.” He knew what they meant to Kelsier, too. And he knew what the butterflies meant. The dream was filled with Kelsier’s love, a fact that wasn’t lost on Nico. Everything here was a representation of someone or something Kelsier loved. The sky, dim and ashy, was Scadrial. The flowers, Mare. And the butterflies… well, if Nico were to be represented by the magnet, he wouldn’t complain. It just meant that Kelsier cared about the gift. It meant Nico had done something right.
“I always thought that someone else’s dreams could tell you more about them than almost anything else,” he said, lifting his gaze to meet Kelsier’s. “I suppose that’s also true of the dreams they create.”

Sal Fisher | This Room Will Scar You | strider

At least the House probably couldn’t force them. He didn’t know how it worked, but it felt like if it could just take control of them, it wouldn’t bother to go through all of this…he didn’t know. He hoped it couldn’t.
He liked Zuko so far, and this was just making him like him more. Not necessarily because he was refusing to hurt Sal…that was obviously a good thing, but he hoped most of his friends, or even acquaintances, would be reluctant to very literally burn him. He hoped most people would try not to burn strangers, too.
He liked him mostly because he just..felt good when he was around him. There were some people that were easy to exist around, and so far, Zuko was one.
“Right. Well…do you have any weapons on you?” He asked, glancing at the other boy. “Not your swords, I guess, but a knife or something?”
He hoped it wouldn’t come to a fight. It wasn’t like they could really win against however many people formed the crowd. But he’d have felt better if one of them had something like a weapon.

Zuko had never actually been mind controlled by the House, but he knew it was possible. He knew the House wouldn’t hesitate if it thought that was necessary. Or even if the two of them were boring it. Hopefully, the House wouldn’t go that route. Even if it wasn’t his mind doing it, he didn’t want to live with the memory of his hand burning Sal. He would really avoid having to bear a memory of his hand burning anyone.
“Yeah,” Zuko replied, reaching into his pocket to pull out his knife. He glanced at it for a long moment, then held it out for Sal. Technically, he was the one who knew how to use a knife. It would be more effective in Zuko’s hands. Still, Sal didn’t have a weapon of any sort, and he didn’t seem to know how to fight without a weapon. At least Zuko would be able to defend himself even without the knife.
“I’d feel better if you had it,” he told Sal, hoping that would be enough to convince the other boy to take it.

“Great,” Zuko replied, an edge of humor in his tone. “I’d be pretty disappointed if you stabbed me. Or yourself.” Considering they were the only two in the room who were actual people, Zuko was fairly certain they were the only ones that counted as people not to stab. Although… he had a feeling that Sal wasn’t likely to stab anyone who hadn’t antagonized him first. Which was part of the reason Zuko had been so willing to give him the knife. He didn’t think the other boy would be reckless with it, even though he had only just met him a few days before. Sal didn’t seem the reckless type.
“I bet we won’t even have to fight, anyway. We can probably just try to walk through the crowd and see if we can find a way out that-”
Zuko didn’t have enough time to finish his sentence before he noticed a small figure approaching from the other end of the arena, behind Sal. Where there had been no doors before, one had appeared, only to disappear moments later. Was it still there? Had it just been an illusion?
That was beside the point. The point was that Zuko recognized the boy who approached. And suddenly, the room had gotten much, much more complicated.
Zuko’s mouth closed as he watched the boy approach, golden eyes bright with confidence. Stance wide and practiced, running through everything Iroh had taught him. Zuko paled at the sudden, heartrending realization. No. The House was not going to make him play Ozai.

Zuko didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be facing his younger self. He didn’t want to expose this part of his life to someone who might as well have been a stranger. The boy in front of him… he didn’t know what to do. He had told Sal that he wasn’t going to burn anyone who didn’t deserve it, but… did that mean he had to decide here whether he had deserved it? Ozai had believed he had. Zuko had tried to reconcile his respect for his father with the fact that it hadn’t felt fair.
Yes, he reminded himself, but he thought hard enough to make him flinch, It wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t deserve it. My father is a fair leader. I was a coward.
Zuko heard Sal, but he didn’t give him a response. He saw the way his younger self looked at him; the way his expression transformed as he realized who he had been fighting. It seemed Zuko didn’t have a choice. He was going to represent Ozai.
“He’s our way out,” Zuko replied eventually, voice distant and closed off. There was no certainty in his mind, but he was grateful there was no question in his voice. He couldn’t be weak here. He had asked for a way out, and the House had given him one. One that wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

Zuko glanced at Sal for a long moment, then turned his attention back towards the younger version of himself. The younger version of himself who had thrown himself at the ground, who had tears streaming in his eyes, who was pleading in a voice that Zuko remembered all too well. He stepped forward almost mechanically, the look in his eyes dull and reluctant. He would do it if that was what the House wanted from him. If nobody else got hurt… if he had to choose between himself and Sal, then he would choose Sal. Besides, he had lived with the burn for two years now. He would be fine. If he and Sal both died here because Zuko didn’t want to go through with something that had already happened? He shook his head. Sal wasn’t going to die here. Sal wasn’t going to get burned. The House had provided another option.
He felt his hands shaking, smoldering as he did his best to reign in his emotions.
You deserve it, he thought at the younger version of himself. This isn’t unfair. You’ll… you’ll just have to learn that. And when you do, you’ll do everything you can to make up for it. And then we’ll go home.

Zuko’s eyes narrowed and he grit his teeth as Sal stepped in front of the younger Zuko. He couldn’t see the boy any longer, though he had a feeling he wouldn’t move from the floor. If he was lucky, this version of Zuko wasn’t real. It was just… a reflection, or something. Maybe it would just go through all of the motions until the final burning, and then they could go. Maybe it wouldn’t even feel the pain. Why was it so much easier to think of his younger self as an ‘it’ rather than an actual person?
“Fisher,” Zuko said, his voice low with warning. “I need you to step out of the way.” He knew what it looked like. He knew Sal wouldn’t understand. He also didn’t want to explain it. He didn’t want Sal’s pity when he realized the extent of the situation. He didn’t want to deal with the way Sal would look at him. He would rather be seen as unnecessarily cruel than weak. Besides, he had a feeling Sal wouldn’t be inclined to let him do it if he found out the truth, anyway. Hopefully, he would just trust him on this. Trust him that the boy wasn’t a real person. That the crowd was a bigger threat. That it was their lives or the boy’s face.

“Please,” Zuko said after a moment, his stance unchanging. He didn’t want to hurt Sal. He would stand by that. Sal hadn’t done anything wrong, he was just standing in the way of the one way they had to get out. One way or another, Zuko was going to get around him. He just… didn’t want that way to be attacking.
Zuko spent a lot of his life angry. He was angry about what had happened to him. He was angry that Iroh didn’t seem as dedicated to finding the Avatar as he was. He was angry that he couldn’t go home. He was angry that there were people who insinuated that his father didn’t want him home. He was angry that his entire nation thought of him as a traitor. But… he couldn’t be angry with his younger self. And he couldn’t be angry with Sal for protecting him. How badly had he wished someone had stepped in front of him to tell Ozai to stop? How badly had he wanted just one ally?
He should have known, at that age. He should have held his tongue. Still… he couldn’t help the spike of rage that flew through him at the fact that the battalion had still be sacrificed. That their loyalty had been rewarded with nothing other than death. Purposeful death. No fighting chance.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Zuko replied, hating the way his voice shook. It was the truth. This had to be done if he wanted to make sure that both he and Sal escaped this room unharmed. The crowd was growing more restless. He could hear them, though he couldn’t pick out what they were saying. He felt like he was hemmed in on all sides, and the only way out was doing something incredibly distasteful. It didn’t matter how much the boy in front of him deserved it. It didn’t matter if he did deserve it or not. Zuko didn’t want this. It felt… cowardly… to hurt someone who wouldn’t fight back. Who couldn’t fight back. He pushed that thought back as forcefully as he could. He wasn’t a traitor. He wasn’t going to insinuate that his father was cowardly. His father had taught him a lesson. Zuko had dishonored himself and his family by refusing to fight. He might have been able to stay if he had just fought his father. If, by some miracle, he had won. He shoved that thought back, too.
“I wanted the House to give us another way out, and it did. That’s all there is to it.”

The last thing Zuko wanted to do was explain the whole situation to Sal. He didn’t want to open up about it. He didn’t want to talk about it even with the people who were there. The people who would understand. It didn’t matter if Sal had scars, too. The situation wasn’t just a boy being scarred. The situation was a boy who had to force himself to believe he’d deserved to be.
“I told you I wouldn’t burn anyone who didn’t deserve it,” Zuko said after a moment, his entire body stiffening. He had to play the role of Ozai. What he actually believed couldn’t matter. His uncertainty about this couldn’t influence his decision. He needed to be strong. He needed to do what had to be done.
“Just step aside and we’ll be out of here.” It wasn’t that simple and he knew it, but… he had to simplify it. He couldn’t see himself in the boy. He couldn’t let himself relive this. He couldn’t let this pierce his heart, no matter how much it was threatening to.