Jerāru Ferunandesu

They're about an hour into the flight when Zuko dares to ask, “Will you tell me about it?" 

He doesn't want her to relive those memories, but he can tell she is already - he sent her down this rabbit hole of pain and broken dreams, it's only fair he hears the terror that's been dragged back to the surface.

She sighs, keeping her gaze fixed on the horizon. The air tastes fresh on his tongue, bringing with it the smell of rain and perhaps a little taste of something new.  "They came looking for waterbenders,” she tells him. "My mother hid me in our hut, but the commander caught her before she could leave. To protect me, she sacrificed herself.” Her voice shakes with the effort, and he can feel the tears pooling under the surface like a tidal wave pounding at the shores. "To protect the last waterbender, she gave her life. And he took it.”

She touches the pendant at her throat, and the tears fall, running down her cheeks like sparkling drops of moonlight. 

"Your mother was a brave woman," Zuko says. “I can see that in you."

She glances at him, confusion and a strange light glinting in her eyes. “Why did you offer to do this, Zuko?" She asks, voice dark and heavy with a determination, a desperation that reminds him of the catacombs.

“All my life," he tells her, “I've been trying to do the right thing by convincing myself with the wrongs. Everything I was taught, everything I became, was the exact opposite of what I wanted. Being with you was the first time I felt right, when I felt like myself." 

“So why did you betray me?”

He sighs. "Imagine you spend your entire life just trying to please the people who are supposed to love you. Imagine everyday living in the shadows of their disappointment. That's what life was for me. And then Azula welcoming me back home? Offering my father's pride up on a silver platter? Even going against everything I was standing for, I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't stop the hope that my family would love me.”

She's quiet, and he continues. "I know it was the wrong choice,” he says. "But it's the choice I made, and I've spent every waking day trying to fix every mistake I've made. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to fix the wrongs I did. To the world, to you, if I must. Because I finally feel like me. I'm sorry it took breaking your trust to find myself, but I promise, Katara, I've changed. I'm trying.”

She looks at him, studies him with those critical eyes of hers. It's quiet for a long time, nothing but the wind in their hair and the sky above. Then, before she can speak, he spies the communication tower in the distance. 

And then, once again, there's the war cry in their blood, the taste of blood and ash sitting heavily on Zuko's tongue.

She can’t stop noticing these things about Zuko. Little things, perhaps insignificant to others, but they stand out to Katara like an iceberg floating in crystal clear water with nothing in sight. 

The first thing she notices is that Zuko never touches anyone unless covered by clothing. Even when training Aang, she watches as he adjusts the airbender’s stance by a light tap on Aang’s cloth covered shoulder, a gentle rap at the back of the knee. Swordplay with Sokka goes similarly- gentle taps using the play swords or a clasp on the back over their shirts. When he carries Toph, she watches as he carefully hoists her up by the back of her legs, gently holding her, hands poised carefully over her clothed thighs.

He touches her though. Gentle touches; a brush of his fingers across her shoulders, touching her hand during meal prep, massaging her legs after a rough practice session; calloused yet soft fingers gently working out the whorls of contorted chi paths down her legs.