I'm Shipping Trash

A bed? What bed? She remembers her room had a bed, but she’d left it, right? Last night was something of a blur, but she remembers waking from a nightmare and coming to Zuko’s room. It isn’t his bed is it? Katara’s head spins to look around, trying to remember where and when she’d fallen asleep. Her room had a courtyard view, she recalled, but to her right is a large balcony facing the ocean. Katara gasps softly, realizing with a strange twist in her stomach where she is. She jolts awake fully and begins frantically searching for Zuko. If she is in his bed, where is he?

“Zuko?” she whispers urgently, hoping the prince was as light of a sleeper as she had presumed and would hear her from wherever he is in the room. She really doesn’t want to risk anyone else hearing her. She flings the blankets off and lands as quietly as she can on the floorboards. The room is an open space, so if she can’t see Zuko, he probably isn’t there. She has no clue where he could be, though. Regardless, she decides it’s best to at least get out of his room before anyone notices she isn’t in hers. Spirits, she can’t even think which one of them would be the worst to find her in that predicament. Sokka would endlessly make fun of her, and shamelessly, in front of everyone. Suki would probably not do anything to intentionally humiliate her, but she would tell Katara’s brother. Toph would not only tease her, but probably pry into it and use the information against her somehow. And Aang—well, she doesn’t know specifically how Aang would react, but it wouldn’t be a pleasant time for either of them. Especially since she needed Aang to stay on good terms with his only firebending teacher. Scratch her previous uncertainty—Aang would be the worst person to find her right now. At least if Sokka starts teasing her in front of him, she can deny it.

The worried waterbender shakes the dread from her mind and quietly exits the room, closing the door behind her as silently as she can. She carefully makes her way back in the direction of her room, which is down this hallway, then past the kitchen down another. With each step she is praying to whatever spirits hold domain over such things that a floorboard doesn’t creak on her next step or one of her friends doesn’t appear suddenly. She needs to get back to her room and change out of her clothes from the last two days, at the very least.

“It’s not about how light your steps are. It’s about how well you can distribute your weight across both feet.” Katara jumps at Zuko’s voice to her right, her hand moving to where her water pouch would usually be. Her head whips toward the voice with an equally startled and irked expression. She had been walking past the kitchen and didn’t even see the firebender standing at the counter. 

“Zuko!” she whispers sharply. He seems briefly taken aback at her tone, but it quickly settles back into neutrality. Katara’s lips are pursed and brows knitted, more out of habit than anything. Sokka calls it her “disappointed mom face” and, apparently, she made it a lot. Her gaze stays fixed on him, as she realizes she has about five questions she wants to ask the boy, and can’t decide which one should be first.

“Sorry, I, uh, didn’t mean to scare you,” Zuko said with a sheepish tone before she could begin interrogating him. He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze shifting before he continues. “Did you sleep… okay?”. Zuko doesn’t know what to ask specifically. Asking if she slept well feels too casual for what had occurred last night, but he also doesn’t want to seem like he is prying too much on the details of her grief. Grief is difficult and complicated, he knows that all too well. Luckily for him, Katara’s shoulders ease, and her face relaxes into something more kindly.

“Yeah, I, uh, slept alright,” she answers, now standing up straight and turning toward him to stand in the kitchen doorway. She notices the baskets of produce and a few small bags and jars on the kitchen’s counter behind him. “Where were you?” It doesn’t come with that usual sharpness Katara uses with the others. It was softer, more curious than anything.

Zuko recognizes the two questions posed as one. Azula would sometimes do that to get information from people by making them think she already knows the answer to one, so they end up answering with more details than needed. But Katara wasn’t his sister, despite how intimidating and driven she had proven herself to be. He has nothing to hide from her, and he believes she wouldn’t hide anything from him either.

“I slept on the floor. And Aang and I are the early risers, so we went to get some things from the market in town instead of training,” he answers, keeping his tone calm and matter of fact. He’d like to keep his track of honesty with Katara, considering he recently witnessed her turning the rain to ice—not to mention the tight pulling sensation in his chest at the thought of hurting her again, even unintentionally.

Katara tilts her head at his answer, her eyebrows lifting the slightest bit. 

“Oh. Well, I appreciate it,” comes the waterbender’s reply after a few moments. She isn’t used to anyone else doing the chores and menial work without being asked. Then, she remembers why that is. “Wait, did you get roots? Kumquats? Bones for broth? Oh, and Toph only eats vegetables if they’re coated in oyster sauce, so we needed ingredients for that. And Sokka–” 

“No, I didn’t get any of those,” Zuko cuts her off. Katara stops speaking and her frantic hand movements freeze. She looks up at him with furrowed brows, completely forgets she is supposed to be recomposing herself in her room right now.

“Well, what did you get?” she interrogates, walking over to him and inspecting the ingredients on the counter. She recognizes a few, like shrimp, garlic, and noodles, which were still a new thing for her. Everything else was unfamiliar. “What are all these things?”

Zuko watches her inspect everything, making sure to hide the bit of amusement he feels until she isn’t looking at him. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a stir of warm excitement at seeing what her reaction would be when he told her he’d be making dinner.

“Ingredients for laksa. And some fruits I figured you all may not have tried,” Zuko answers.

“What’s laksa?” Katara raises one of her eyebrows and glances between him and the groceries. “Do you have the recipe?” She does her best to hide the annoyance at basically being strongarmed into cooking something new with unfamiliar ingredients.

“Laksa is one of our noodle dishes. We have a lot of those,” Zuko responds with a more casual chuckle than what usually accompanies his rough attempts at humor. “And I know how to make it, so I’ll be fine,” he adds.

Katara looks at the prince, confused, and silent for a few moments as she tries to figure out what to say. “You’re… going to make dinner?” she enquires. Zuko catches some relief in how she says it, and nods.

Katara’s eyes widen slightly, sparkling with something not quite admiration, but most certainly appreciation. A small smile crosses her face, and she starts fidgeting with her sleeve. 

“Oh… well, I, uh… you don’t have to. You’ve got to train Aang, and I’m used to cooking anyways,” is the only reply Katara can come up with, finding herself reverting back to taking things upon herself without thinking.

Zuko shrugs with a small sigh. “Aang’s capable of training by himself for a couple of hours. And I might be a prince, but I have a few skills outside of bowing and barking orders,” he chuckles, which pulls a small laugh from Katara too. She has a dimple on her left cheek when she smiles, he realizes.

“Yeah. You’re pretty good at stalking and sneaking, too” the waterbender jokes back. “Something about centering your weight properly? Where’d you learn that, anyway?”

Zuko laughs awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck again. “Oh just some, uh… palace shenanigans. And some other stuff, but that’s a bit of a long story. Something for another time.”

Before Katara could press for more details, two sets of feet are heard bounding toward the kitchen. Zuko recognizes the heavy shuffling of Toph’s, indicating that she still finds the halls unfamiliar. The other pair belongs to their resident 13-year-old savior, energetic and light, like his feet barely touch the ground—which they probably don’t.

“Katara! You’re awake!” Aang exclaims with glee. “Wait, why are you still in the same clothes from yesterday? And the day before?”

Katara feels her pulse rise with that question, suddenly remembering last night and why she’d been trying to sneak back to her room.

“I, uh, couldn’t sleep last night, so I slept in a bit later today,” she replies quickly, hoping it doesn’t sound too quick. It wasn't a lie, but it’s enough that her heart might signal something odd to Toph, who had followed Aang into the kitchen. Katara prays silently that the younger girl would have at least a bit more tact than she usually does and not say anything about what she might notice. Unbeknownst to Katara, Zuko was hoping the same for himself.

“Ohhh, so that’s why Sparky wouldn’t let Twinkle Toes go in your room to wake you,” Toph’s voice cut through, after a few too many moments of glancing between Katara and Zuko. Toph rarely goes through the effort of looking directly at people unless she wants them to know something. The earthbender elbows Aang next to her, whose expression changes from curious to solemn understanding. Relief barely enters Katara’s body when she sees Toph smirking in her general direction. She has no idea what the earthbender is thinking, but she has a feeling Toph will find a way to employ her talent for causing trouble.

Aang doesn’t say anything for a moment either. Instead, he looks at Katara with a wistful expression before speaking up.

“Ah Well, I hope you got enough extra rest this morning then,” Aang says, some of the cheeriness gone from his tone, replaced with something more ponderous. Then, in an instant, his eyes brighten again as he bounds over to where Zuko is. “Oh, Katara, look! Zuko and I went to the market this morning and got some really cool fruits! We got bananas, pineapple, dragon fruit, and mangoes! You haven’t had those yet, right?” He smiles eagerly, possibly seeking praise or approval, from what Katara knows about him.

Katara shakes her head. “Uh, no, I haven’t. I’ll try them with breakfast, though,” she replies. Suddenly, Katara’s face flashes with panicked realization. “Oh, spirits! I didn’t even make breakfast! Wait here, everyone, I-I’ll be back in just a moment!” she exclaims as she rushes past Aang and toward the hallway.

“Katara, wait! I’ve got it!” Zuko calls after her, following her a few steps toward the door, before deciding to just let her go. 

“She’s too used to mothering everyone, Sparky. You’re never gonna beat it out of her,” Toph shrugs, crossing her arms as Katara’s footsteps fade down the hallway. Zuko sighs and turns to start dicing a mango.

“Maybe you should let her make breakfast, Zuko,” Aang finally pipes up with a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “She gets upset when she thinks we don’t like her food, and I don’t wanna hurt her feelings.”

The prince looks down at the Avatar for a moment, almost bewildered, though he’s careful to hide it. He knows Aang is young, and not fully in touch with other people just yet. Yet Zuko finds himself surprised at how clueless the younger boy is when it comes to Katara, despite having spent the most time with her. The prince doesn’t think himself particularly socially or emotionally in tune with others, but even he knows that no person their age could be “happy” doing all the cooking and chores all the time. Especially when Katara does so much more on top of that. He breathes in a moment and carefully considers his reply.

“Aang, she’ll be fine if someone else prepares the food for a day,” Zuko says finally, though it’s a bit curt.

“Well… yeah… I guess she’ll be fine. Just don’t do it too much, okay? You guys just started getting along, and I don’t want that to get ruined,” the younger boy concedes, a hint of concern in his tone.

Zuko acknowledges Aang’s statement with a simple nod.

“Don’t worry, Twinkle Toes. I think they’ll keep getting along just fine,” Toph chimes in with a little nudge to Aang’s shoulder. Her tone makes Zuko freeze for just a second. He silently wonders, and fears, just how much Toph knows. And how she might use it to her advantage. He’d barely been with their group for two weeks, but it didn’t take him long to figure out that the little earthbender was the biggest schemer among them. He doesn’t say anything to Toph’s comment, knowing it would only draw more attention to the statement.

Aang turns to Toph with a confused expression. “Wait, Toph, why’d you say it like–”

“Think fast!” she exclaims with a gleeful grin, pulling a tile from the ground beneath his feet with a stomp, causing him to form an air scooter to stop from falling. The bubble of air pulls a few objects on the counter into it, sending them clattering to the floor with him when the scooter vanishes.

“Okay, everybody out! No bending in the kitchen!” Zuko scolds, brandishing his knife with non-threatening precision. 

“Sorry, Sifu Hotman!” Aang apologizes, though not without a sly grin of his own.

“You need better earthbender reflexes, Twinkle Toes! Hold your ground!” Toph ribs, chasing the young Avatar out of the kitchen and toward the training area they’d made in the courtyard.

As the two younger kids’ footsteps fade down the hall, Zuko hears another set from the same direction.  Hurried and audible, but not clumsy—Katara. Zuko finishes dicing the mango and moves on to the dragonfruit as the running halts and he hears panting behind him.

“Zuko! I said I’d be back quickly, what are you–”

“Making breakfast. Like I was trying to tell you I would.” Zuko’s tone is even, but firm.

Katara is still for a moment, her mouth opening and closing like she wants to argue, but can’t think of a good reason to.

“Well, I should at least help. What do you want me to do? Start a fire? Cut some of the fruits? I can–

“I want you to sit and relax.” Zuko interjects with a sigh, turning to face her, only for his breath to catch halfway in his throat. She’s wearing blue still, but it’s a whole different outfit. The tall, loose pants seem to be fashioned from some gold and blue linens he had occasionally noticed in Fire Nation markets before. The cropped style top seems like it was fashioned from the top piece of garments she had on hand. The sleeves flow like water to her elbows and show off her shoulders. He has to burn away the wandering thoughts about the bit of bronze midriff that contrasts with cool blue. The prince clears his throat and snaps his eyes back to her cross expression.

“But I don’t think you’ll do that,” he finally finishes his sentence. “So you can put the ingredients for dinner in the pantry, if you want to do something.” He points to a small curtained room on the opposite corner of the kitchen. 

Light shock briefly crosses Katara’s face at his response. Her brows furrow and her jaw slackens to speak, but then both go back to a more relaxed position. Katara goes to do what he instructs. 

“Oh, and make sure the garlic and shallots are separate from the other produce,” he calls after her. “I learned that lesson the hard way. In the middle of the ocean.”

Katara’s not sure what to make of the situation as she gingerly places each ingredient on the wobbly shelves. She doesn’t like being told what to do, she doesn’t like feeling mothered or taken care of. Zuko’s not her father, and even if he was, she’s been taking care of herself and her family for years without her actual father. She doesn’t need someone to do things for her. Yet despite her best efforts to be angry at Zuko for just taking over and telling her what he is and isn’t going to do, she only finds herself mildly annoyed. Zuko’s stubborn, that much she gathered even before he joined their gang. But he’s only ever been stubborn and unmoving in what he was doing. He’s never told her what to do, or expected her to just shove out of his way so he could do what he was determined to do. Even just now, he didn’t tell her to put the groceries away, he just said it’s something she could do if she didn’t want to sit like he asked her to. She breathes in deeply, remembering the meditative breathing that she’d tried to use last night. A few long seconds in, the same number out. Five of those, and she reemerges from the pantry.

Zuko exhales a breath he knew he had been holding the whole time. He continues the rhythmic motion of slicing, thanking the spirits that he didn’t just experience the wrath of Agni from a waterbender. He feels like he and Katara have become closer, especially after last night, but he still knocks himself for not treading more carefully. Maybe Aang was right, maybe Katara would be upset if she felt like her efforts weren't enough and she would view his attempts to help as impeding on her territory. No, that doesn’t seem right. If she was upset, she’d have pushed back on him more, would have just shoved him out and taken over. She had done so for less and under more duress. He finishes dicing the dragonfruit and pineapple by the time Katara finally comes back from the pantry to place the seafood in the icebox. She is silent as she does so, but moves gracefully through the kitchen past him. The bananas are the easiest, so he finishes those just as she stations herself at the counter next to him, like she’s awaiting more instruction.

“What now?” she asks, looking up at him. Zuko feels her breath near his shoulder as he realizes she has leaned in to observe what he’s doing. His hands remain steady, despite the fluttering in his stomach and heat in his cheeks. He can see the medallion on her necklace out of the corner of his eye resting gently between her collarbones. He finds himself imagining what it would be like to put that necklace on her himself. But he has. Months ago, when he was still hunting their party like a bloodhound fueled by spite. He’d said some embarrassing line about saving her from pirates, taunting her with the necklace that he half draped around her neck. His face burns hotter at the faint memory that’s now been painted in a very different light in his head. He nervously shifts a step further to arrange fruit in a bowl—anything to make sure she can’t see his face—but he immediately regrets the loss of her presence. He brushes it away, though, instead handing her the fruit bowl he made.

“Here.” His tone is faintly strained when he speaks. Katara takes the bowl, inspecting the unfamiliar contents. She looks back up at him, eyes sparkling with undeniable curiosity now.

“I, uh, only know the bananas,” she giggles.

Zuko’s brows raise, registering her words after a delay. In his defense, he’s not sure he’s ever heard Katara giggle before.

“Oh! Uh, this one’s pineapple,” he points out to her. “It’s sweet, but also a bit tart and tangy. Some people say it feels tingly in your mouth, but I don’t get it.” Katara nods, and Zuko points to the mangoes next. 

“These are mangoes. They’re really sweet, kind of like a nectarine– Wait, you’ve probably never had nectarine have you?” Katara laughs softly, shaking her head, amused by the prince’s seeming enthusiasm at introducing her to fruits. 

“Uh, melon?” Zuko inquires, a bit more hopeful about that one. He remembers seeing melons in the Earth Kingdom markets. He sighs, relieved, when she nods. “Okay, it’s like a sweeter papaya,” Katara wrinkles her nose in disgust. Zuko can’t help but find it adorable how her wide nose crinkles with various expressions. 

“I, uh, don’t usually like papaya,” she comments. “But, I’ll try it, I suppose. What’s the last one?”

“Ah, that’s the dragonfruit. I’ve heard people say it’s an ‘acquired taste’, but I like it. It’s not as sweet as mangoes. The little black parts are seeds, but you probably guessed that. They’re perfectly edible, so don’t worry about the crunch.” Zuko rambles his sentences briefly. Katara’s face has settled into a smile now as she nods. Zuko’s own face has settled into a soft smile too, mirroring hers. Somehow, that feels more strange than the fact that he’s standing so close to and joking with the waterbender girl who he swore hated him not three days ago. He’s finding her easier and easier to converse with.

Katara hums, mulling over which new fruit to try first. She lands on trying the mango first. She plucks a piece and bites into it, her mouth immediately filling with the juice of the fruit. Her eyes suddenly light up immediately, and she pops the other half in her mouth too. 

“Oh spirits, this is delicious! We have to get more of these! And you said there’s another fruit like this? Nectarine?” she inquires eagerly, barely chewing before she swallows.

“Uh, yeah, they’re pretty good too. If you like mango, you’d probably like nectarine,” he answers, his cheeks warming up again. “Why don’t you, uh, try the dragonfruit next? I’m curious how you’ll like that,” he adds

Katara doesn’t hesitate to take a piece of the strange white fruit from the bowl. She chews for a moment, her expression thoughtful. Her nose wrinkles again for a moment when she crunches on a seed, then she hums softly.

“It’s good. Not quite as sweet as I like,” she comments.

Zuko nods thoughtfully. “A lot of people say that about dragonfruit. There are sweeter varieties, though. I just picked up the most common one.”

“Oh, well we have to pick up the sweeter one sometime,” she says with excitement in her voice. “Maybe when this war’s finally over and we have more leniency to spend money,” she remarks ruefully, then shakes it off. “Okay, now to try the weird one. This one’s the big spiky fruit with the tree at the top, right?” 

Zuko nods, the small smile still on his lips. Katara picks up a piece of pineapple, taking a tentative bite from it. The tartness makes her eyes feel like they bulge out of her head for a second, but she likes it better after the initial shock.

“Is it… good?” Zuko asks, unsure of what her reaction means.

Katara nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! I mean, the first bite caught me off guard, but it tastes really good after!”

Zuko chuckles, watching her munch on the rest of the fruit bowl, eating the mango first. He turns to the stove to start cooking the eggs and pork belly he’d picked up in the market too for the rest of breakfast. Katara stands at the counter beside him with the fruit and watches him ignite the fire with his finger. It’s strange, Katara thinks. Since the day she could walk, she’d known to fear firebenders. She’d fought countless firebenders, including Zuko himself, often having to be much more careful to avoid burns. After Aang accidentally burned her, she doubled down on believing the only fire she could trust was what she made herself. But she felt no fear about Zuko’s fire now. In fact, she felt almost drawn to it. His warmth had brought her comfort when she needed it most, his confident, but still cautious control of it made it beautiful instead of frightening. She watched the wood beneath the stove catch flame, but it didn’t burst, like Zuko knew exactly what temperature to make his flame to keep it under control. When he rose back to his feet, his face was slightly pink. Katara couldn’t tell if that was the morning sun pouring through the kitchen window or a result of being so close to the heat of the stove’s fire.

“Uh, if you want to do something, you could, ummm… make the rest of the fruit bowls for everyone else.” Zuko spoke a bit more nervously than he wanted to convey. Her gaze was intense, and he could feel its earnest ice piercing into him in a way that both scares him and draws him in. 

Katara simply nods, like she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary and began arranging fruits into the bowls. As she did, Zuko notices her slipping a few pieces of mango into her mouth about every fifteen seconds.

“Hey! Leave some mango for the rest of us, Sugar Queen,” Zuko scolds her playfully. Katara turns to him with furrowed brows and an adorable half-pout that loses its effect with the mango-filled state of her cheeks. She groans at his use of Toph’s nickname and rolls her eyes, but she can’t keep the smile from reforming on her face.

Zuko can’t help but laugh at that. It’s a bit more than he usually does, if only a hair above his usual chuckle. But he catches himself, yet he doesn’t find his usual instinct to suppress his expressions. He walks over to grab the komodo-chicken eggs and coconut oil he’d set on the kitchen island behind them. He walks around to the edge to retrieve them, but almost drops them when he catches a sight of what has to be some ethereal spirit taken flesh. Morning sunbeams warm Katara’s brown skin and radiant features, weaving golden threads through her hair. He follows the foreign tapestry of waves, so alluring in their singularity. No one in the Fire Nation has wavy hair like hers, and he’s glad of that. Katara deserves to stand out. Just as the toned curve of her middle back stands out to his eyes. Half covered by the final strands is the other side of that few inches of midriff he’d beaten himself up over lingering on earlier. He wanted to gently—reverently—place his hands there, Agni, even just a brush of his fingers would suffice. 

Katara was aquatic by nature, and he’d stake his place in line for the throne that being so drawn to water had made her skin just as soft as her hair. And he knew her hair was soft, despite his attempts not to dwell on that knowledge. He’d felt its feathery, almost fluffy, texture when he’d held her last night, though his mind had been much too occupied with handling the most unexpected of situations he’d found himself in. But now… now it had his attention. She had his attention in ways that he'd felt catch flame on his heart back in the crystal caves. That fire is now making up for the lost time he’d spent stamping it out, just like he’d stomped on every other inconvenient feeling during his time back in his father’s tentative graces. He knows this feeling, except with Mai, it felt like it needed more internal encouragement to feel real. With Katara, he fears it has felt too encouraged, becoming much too comfortable in the home it's made of his whole body. 

An overnight ride on Appa without a wink of sleep, mulling over recent events. All her reflections swirled in her mind like a storm current she had to learn to control in the heat of the moment. She thought of all the things she might say to Zuko when they landed. She pondered what Aang would say and how she might respond­—how she should respond. She’d practiced and performed that interaction perfectly, just as she’d become accustomed to doing with the Avatar. Aang, for being such a free element, was often predictable when it came to his values. Zuko, she’d come to learn, was anything but predictable or easily read. By the end of their quiet ride, Katara had decided on forgiving their newly acquired firebender. Perhaps she’d decided that much longer ago.

            She felt some stiffness in Zuko’s body when she embraced him. His initial shock made her fear the worst for a moment, that it was too soon for such affection. It was only the feeling of his hands coming up behind her that stopped he. She wasn’t sure what was going through his head at that moment, but she was grateful that he adapted to her motions.

He adapted.

Zuko moved with her like she moved with the water. It was a dance she knew so well as a waterbender, but it was almost strange for such beneficence to be granted to her in these more personal moments, outside of bending and fighting. She pulled away with a comforting hand on his shoulder and a smile that didn’t leave her face even, after she left him and Aang on the dock. Katara made it to her tent, deciding to rest and tell her brother and friends about her journey tomorrow.

But rest did not last long.

She had expected it to be Aang waking her to talk about how her life changing field trip with Zuko had gone, or perhaps even Toph’s snoring as everyone else slept. Instead, it was a cold sweat. A sweat like she’d felt as she ran through ice, snow and ash to find her father and tell him that Mom was in trouble.

Such nightmares were not uncommon for Katara. She had dreamt for years about seeing her mother’s face again, saving her, even taking revenge. But she’d done that now, she had her closure. Katara faced the very man who took her mother, and yet the nightmare felt more visceral than ever. Katara breathed in deeply, slowing her breathing to the rhythmic push and pull of a current. Yon Rha’s pathetically terrified face flashed in her mind, his sad groveling almost reviling. The man—the monster—who had taken her mother, torn her family apart, looked so small and vulnerable, and it made her angry. Years of seeing those wicked eyes in her dreams, building up her mother’s killer to some great enemy she would face one day, only to be faced with a frail old man who was so wretched as to offer up his own mother to “even the score”. He wouldn’t even put up a fight, she thought. He couldn’t.

It all made her blood boil so much her head felt light. Her stomach bile churned with revulsion, sweat still clinging to her skin as she fought the urge to scream. How had her whole life been overturned like a capsized boat by such a small wave?

Katara reflected once more on what led her here. She spent so much time in silence on the ride back from facing Yon Rha thinking about what to say to Zuko, to her brother, to Aang. She had to get her speeches and responses ready to face everyone, to not let her emotions overcome her in the moment. The air always grew cold when she got emotional around everybody. Now, alone in her tent, the long overdue grief was finally catching up to her. And as she quietly sniffled into her shivering knees, she knew with absolute, resounding certainty that as much as she felt the responsibility to be alone in that moment, she didn’t want to be.

Whatever led her to Zuko’s tent, she would likely only be able to identify it when she was lucid again. Her walls were down; her energy focused on making sure she wasn’t sobbing audibly as she walked across the camp in the dead of night. She thanked Tui and La and any other spirits around that there was a light flickering in the prince’s tent.

Zuko knew he was something of a rigid person. That much was obvious when compared with his new friends, let alone his uncle. He adapted to situations, but he’d never excelled at changing his goals once he’d set his mind to them. Perhaps that’s the element of fire he embodied; adapting to challenges presented if only to spread further and consume everything. Such a way of existence had nearly destroyed him several times and he needed to be saved by someone who would douse the flames before he burned himself out. On their brief journey, Zuko had wondered for a moment if he would need to be that person for Katara. A part of him was grateful he didn’t need to, and the other part wondered if he always knew he wouldn’t.

Zuko had learned very quickly that Katara was just as unfaltering and stubborn as he could be. She was like his sister too, in that way, driven and precise in her movements. Luckily for him, she also bore a kindness like his mother’s. And bear it she did, he learned. Their moment in the crystal catacombs should have told him that much. She had been so quick to take his bid for connection, despite all he’d done. She’d offered empathy, comfort, and even healing. She didn’t even know him, yet she saw in him what his uncle saw—and he’d thrown it back in her face for vain glory and a hope he knew, deep down, was pointless.

Zuko wasn’t sure he’d ever let himself recover from that mistake, even if she forgave him twice over for every blast of fire he had ever thrown at her. It was easier to move on from naïve hope that his life would return to normal, but betrayal? He’d believed himself to be above such evil for so long, and yet he’d turned on the only two people in years who’d shown him kindness, despite knowing who he was.

That’s why he’d done this. He hated to admit it, but his offer of help to Katara wasn’t entirely altruistic. He wanted to feel like he could start to atone for his betrayal by supporting her in whatever decision she made, because he knew she’d make the right one. And she did. Not only that, but she’d also forgiven him. Zuko’s wager had paid off in full, but something felt… incomplete. Unanswered for. He had pondered in her silence on their ride back on Appa, and now he was pondering further in the middle of the night. It didn’t help ease his mind to see that Aang still hadn’t made up his mind on what defeating the Fire Lord would really look like. It didn’t help that all Katara’s known resolve would turn from solid ice to soothing water when it came to the Avatar. He’d begun to feel alone in his endeavor to toughen the kid up. His thoughts were interrupted at the sound of quiet footsteps and trembling hand lifting the flap of his tent.

Katara held Zuko’s gaze for a length of time that was undeterminable in her sleep-addled and distraught state. They didn’t have much for sleep clothes, so he had only removed his shoes and the outer vest of his usual attire. He seemed rigid, despite the relaxed appearance, rigid in a way like he had been when she hugged him. She was pretty sure she only blinked when he said her name.

“Katara.” Zuko spoke softly, his invocation of her name both acknowledgment and a curious question. Katara, in turn nodded, a slightly strained voice following her blink.

“Are… are you sleeping soon?” Katara knew that isn’t usually how she’d ask that question. She often shifted to accommodate others when she was like this, apologizing for intruding before asking if they were sleeping, to give them an out. Sokka, for all his protectiveness, never handled when his sister was actually upset very well. Toph was much younger than her and more on the tough side. Suki was closer to her age, but she hadn’t been able to build much of a relationship with her yet. And Aang, while in tune with spiritual balance for the most part, was not so good with handling emotions, especially hers. She didn’t blame him, of course, and he often tried his best to cheer her up when he sensed she might be upset. But he never felt quite in tune with her emotions the way he was when they waterbent together.

Zuko wasn’t really a last resort for her, but he was the one who’d recently displayed handling her more emotional moments best. He had understood when she acted angry with him and continuously reached out anyways. He’d been humble when she threatened him, if not also a bit reasonably scared. Yet he treated her the same. And he bore her hatred, then her anger, her aggression, and her nearly 10 hours of silence after helping her accomplish such a long-sought goal of hers, with no expectation of conversation or immediate resolution. Maybe he could handle her grief too.

“No! I uh… I was just awake… thinking…” Zuko replied, perhaps a little too quickly. Katara didn’t seem to mind, or she hadn’t noticed. He could tell something was off with her, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint it. “Did you uh… need something? Fire go out?” He was searching desperately in his mind for what could have brought her to him. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead, the hair sticking to her skin, so lack of heat wasn’t the issue… right? He saw her shake her head. He opened his mouth to try and say something else but couldn’t quite formulate anything logical.

“Can I sit…?” Katara mumbled. As far as Zuko had observed, Katara didn’t really mumble, aside from the occasional annoyed grumble toward her brother’s antics or Toph’s attitude. But this was vulnerable, almost scared. Zuko hadn’t seen Katara scared yet. Worried, nervous, yes, but not shivering with what he had to guess was fear. So he nodded, glancing at the spot to his left without even thinking.

Katara fully entered the tent and headed to the spot Zuko had glanced up. Suddenly, the firebender held up his hands and shook his head.

“W-Wait! Actually, sit on this side, sorry,” he said quickly, scooting to his left and placing his hand on the spot to his right. “I don’t hear out of this ear very well.” He pointed to his scarred left ear and huffed an awkward laugh. Katara eyes glistened for a moment with something he had no chance at identifying, before she nodded and sat at his right. Zuko hadn’t even considered that he was going to let her sit on his left side. He was even more surprised about what made him realize. It wasn’t his usual paranoia around letting people on that side of his body, but rather his consideration for the fact that she may want to talk to him. And he wanted to heart her.

Katara took a place at his right, mimicking his meditative position at first to appear more put together. That façade didn’t last much further beyond his voice softly asking, “So… something about… yesterday?”

Katara’s breath hitched, breaking the bubble of restrained emotion in her throat. It didn’t break like a wall of ice turned liquid, but she could feel it melting as she curled into the fetal position. Zuko tensed again, though she didn’t see it this time. He stared straight forward, unsure of physical comfort would be a good idea. His mother always held him when he cried as a child, but Katara wasn’t a child.

Except she was.

He remembered when he first joined their group Sokka wanted to know which of them was older. It had turned out to be Zuko by only a couple of months, and Sokka had off-handedly mentioned everyone else’s age. From what he could recall, Katara was barely fifteen. While she wasn’t a child in the same sense as he was when he last saw his mother, she was still young. A kid. All of them were. He’d almost let it all slip his mind with the weight of the world on their shoulders. He felt slightly guilty for forgetting that about Katara, since she often acted maternally toward everyone else and seemed much more inclined towards responsibility. Zuko wondered if that time he cooked dinner and made tea for everyone was the first time that she hadn’t.

Accounting for all that in his head, Zuko decided maybe she could use some physical comfort. She was the one who hugged him earlier anyways, so it would be okay, right? He brought his hand from its position on his knee and rested it on her shoulder, flinching with her for the briefest moment. He wondered if he should pull away, if he’d completely misjudged the situation, as he’d realized was a common folly of his. Then her hand came to rest on his.

“I-I couldn’t kill him…” she whispered into her knees. Zuko’s eyebrows raised slightly at the rapid escalation of the conversation. He recovered quickly enough to give a reply.

“I know,” the firebender replied, giving her shoulder a soft squeeze.

“Aang thinks it’s because I’m too good of a person,” she continued. Zuko replied perhaps a bit too hastily.

“Aren’t you?” He said it like it was natural, like he was confused by her implication that she wasn’t a good and kind person. His body was more turned toward her scrunched form, finding that her head was now completely buried in the dark little space she’d made for herself.

“I couldn’t kill him… because he… he was just… pathetic…” Katara choked out. Zuko guessed she had meant for it to sound angrier and more visceral, but it came out as a bitter sob. He wasn’t sure what to make of what she’d just said. He’d be lying to himself if he said that her confession didn’t shock him. Perhaps he wasn’t as shaken as the Avatar might have been, given the boy’s propensity towards wanting to believe the best in people to a sometimes-naïve degree. But still, he hadn’t expected someone such bitter callousness from the waterbender. Perhaps she wasn’t so different from Azula as he’d originally thought. Or, rather, Azula wasn’t so different from her.

Zuko pulled himself from his thoughts as soon as he caught himself getting lost in them, remembering to focus on the moment in front of him. That’s what Uncle always did. He moved slightly closer to the hollow, shaking bundle of blue and brown that was the fearsome waterbender he’d just seen puppet a man’s body not even a day ago. What could he even say to her in a moment like this? Should he say anything at all?

“He was just… pathetic,” she repeated, a bit louder and more shaken. “Miserable, wretched, small, weak!” She spit every single word, her voice raising slightly in volume with each one, as if she was trying to be angry. But each one just loosened the trapped cries more, and tears had begun to leak from her eyes. It pierced his heart to see such a strong and talented waterbender unable to control water for once. He inched ever closer, his mind swimming with all the different things he could say or do that might help even a little, but they all seemed insurmountable to the anguish in her eyes.

Laughter is the best medicine for a broken heart, but silence is its balm. His Uncle’s words echoed in his mind. He’d been much too stubborn and angry to hear those words at the time, but they returned to him now when his friend needed him most.

“I-I thought...” she choked. “I remembered him as so tall. His eyes were cruel, his voice was harsh, he made me so scared only seven years ago.” Katara wasn’t sure how to express all she was thinking and feeling, how jarring it was for a man she’d feared and hated her whole life could be so miserably pitiful in the end. “H-How could someone like that have taken everything from me?” There was unmistakable anguish in her question. Zuko felt like he often struggled with others’ feelings, but Katara’s were palpable at this moment. Zuko had recently learned his mother was alive, somewhere, but even if she wasn’t, could he relate to Katara quite the same? His mother left to save him, Katara’s mother died to save her. Would it be more agonizing if the person responsible for separating him from his mother was as pathetic as Yon Rha, instead of immensely dangerous and intimidating like his father? Zuko truly didn’t know, but perhaps it didn’t matter, especially not now.

Katara’s choked sobs weren’t as muffled as they had been, and Zuko’s silence worried her, until she felt his arms carefully embrace her shoulders. She had lost all the energy to keep a façade, so instead of stiffening, she effectively melted into whatever position he was moving her into. Her wet cheeks made imprints on the light fabric of his sleeve, her body limp as her tear ducts, but he didn’t seem to mind. And she couldn’t be bothered to be her usual overly-worried self about presenting a collected front anymore. Not with Zuko.

Zuko pulled his broken friend’s quivering form toward him. He tried remembering how his mother held him and moved his hands into the same positions. She’d cradle his neck or head, while the other arm secured his back and she’d pull him into her lap. Katara wouldn’t fit in his lap the same way a 9-year-old boy would fit in his mother’s, but Zuko was nothing if not adaptable. Her hands—such careful, skilled, and diligent hands—shook as they suddenly clutched at the fabric over his chest. He felt his heart clutch with her, his stomach tightening with each tightening of her throat around another cry. His chin ended up nestled in her tangled hair, still slightly damp from sea mist and cold sweat.

Katara cried for long enough to stop praying in her mind that no one would hear. She tried to speak several times, but every word felt meaningless and insignificant in the wake of her overdue mourning. With each moment of unbound grief, she felt more anguished, but also more secure. When her mind was clearer, she realized Zuko was holding her much like her mother and father did. She hadn’t cried in so long that she’d forgotten what it was to be held and comforted like this. Zuko was warm, too. When winters were especially cold, she and Sokka would huddle up with their parents like this. Katara often fell asleep to the sound of a heartbeat at that time. After her mother died and her father went to war, she and Sokka found this kind of comfort in each other on similarly cold nights. Her body was aware of every inch of his presence, yet her mind seemed to bypass it like it was something natural and nothing to overthink.