my sketches go here

A storyboard I did as a missing scene after the confrontation with yon rha in tsr episode. I imagined the walk back would be quite, challenging, to put it lightly. For both of them but for Katara mostly ofc

When he follows after her, he can hear she’s crying. 

He wishes he knew what to say, he wishes he could say anything at all, even the wrong thing. Perhaps then she might stop her crying to yell at him, perhaps then she might forget the pictures in her head of her mother and the darkness of that day. Zuko can only imagine what she saw, what she sees now, of what she thinks and what she feels. He thinks of his own mother, lost to him yes, but perhaps alive somewhere. Perhaps still to return to him someday. But Katara… Her mother was gone forever, sacrificed because of his father’s whims of violence and war. Sacrificed because she wished to protect her daughter from that fate. 

They walk in silence, the rain pouring down over them, soaking them, but even over the sound of the rain he can hear her tears. She cries for what could have been, for what she’s lost. She cries for the pain of living without her mother and for what she’s almost just done. She cries until she’s certain there are no tears left within her, until her chest tightens and her heart aches. There is a hollowness to her grief that was not there before and she’s certain she will carry it with her evermore. 

The walk is a long one, seemingly so much longer than the walk was going. He longs to touch her hand, to tell her it’s all going to be alright, but he wonders if she still yet won’t want to hear him speak, let alone have him touch her. Even after all of this, would it still not be enough? Would it ever be enough? Perhaps not and perhaps it was time that he lived with that knowledge. 

When they reach Appa, it has stopped raining and the sun is beginning its descent into the horizon. They’ve been gone three days now and he wonders what the others must think. He wonders what she must think, right now, right then. They climb into the saddle and take off, the silence broken by only his soft yip yip, to get the bison moving. When they are soaring across the sky, he scrambles over Appa’s head to join her in the saddle, her anguish silent, which is almost worse than the sound of her tears. Almost. 

He shivers and she notices. 

Her hand rises up and in a split second, she’s pulled all of the water from their clothing, leaving them good as new. Still, she does not speak. Grief has taken a hold of her and he doesn’t mind. He’s been there before, just as she was now. “Thank you,” he mutters and she turns those blue eyes to face him, giving a single nod, a wane smile. That was enough. 

[ x x x ]

When he wakes, they’re still in the air and it takes him a moment to remember. 

But then he spots her, asleep across the saddle, curled into a ball, hand beneath her cheek like a pillow. She’s sleeping as she’s not done for two long nights, sleeping in a way she deserves. Reaching out, he drapes his cloak over her body, uncertain if she’s even cold, but being tucked beneath something warm always comforted him when he felt down. In an instant, he’s thinking of his uncle and his booming laughter, of his warm embrace and his unwavering belief in him. Someday, he hopes to see him again, even if his uncle won’t forgive him for what he’s done to him. Like Katara, what he’s done to his uncle was likely irreparable damage. At once, Zuko feels the grief of a fallen son and he closes his eyes again, intent on pushing it away like she’s probably pushed away her own. 

And then, he sleeps once more. 

[ x x x ]

She’s sitting at the end of the dock, kicking her feet, toes just barely above the water. 

Zuko approaches her where she sits, momentarily taken aback by the sight of her there, framed in the light of the sunrise. The sky is all crimson and gold, so beautiful, so wonderful. He’s happy to see it, for some reason, the sight of it brings him a sense of comfort. Or perhaps it’s the way she turns to look at him over her shoulder, blue eyes shimmering, not even an ounce of the hatred she once held in her stare when it was for him. “Zuko…” 

“I’m proud of you, you know,” he speaks before she can say another word, watching as her brow arches, as she climbs to her feet to stand before him. “Aang was right about what you needed. Violence wasn’t the answer.” Part of him is ashamed that as usual, he could not escape the roots of his upbringing, nor the answer his father would have given. He had fought to say that revenge was what she needed most, rather than forgiveness. In his hope to heal the broken bond with her, he thinks he’s likely only caused more damage. 

But, to his surprise, she’s only taking a step closer, her head tilting ever so slightly. “You know, I don’t know if I didn’t do it because I’m too weak to do it, or if… I’m too strong.” Their eyes meet, gold to blue, and he feels his heart skip a beat. “I can’t forgive him for what he did,” she goes on, another step closer, another skip of his heart. “I’ll never forgive him,” she knows in her heart, there would always be contempt for the man that took her mother’s life. But, no matter how much she hated that man, she couldn’t bring herself to kill him, or even to harm him. Violence was, as Zuko had just admitted, not the answer. “But you know… I think I am ready to forgive you.” 

There’s but a moment of time between those words and her arms coming around him, a rush of feelings hitting him all at once. He puts his arms around her waist and for one single moment or for perhaps one hundred years, they remain as they are, until she pulls back, her hand still to his shoulder. Her smile is there, soft and slow, then she’s gone, slipping past him to head back towards Appa, so they can return to their friends.