Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12299814.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Avatar:_The_Last_Airbender
  Relationship:
      Katara/Zuko_(Avatar)
  Character:
      Katara_(Avatar), Zuko_(Avatar), Background_&_Cameo_Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Secret_Relationship, Eventual
      Smut, Adolescent_Sexuality, Enemies_to_Lovers, Angst
  Series:
      Part 1 of Need_the_Sun_to_Break
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-11-02 Words: 12240
****** Of Tea Leaves and Star Light ******
by babyfairy
Summary
     The imprint of Katara's touch lingers, and he wonders if it will scar
     him, too.
Notes
     This is loooooooooooooooong overdue for my sweet Q. I'm soooooo sorry
     for the wait, I hope you enjoy this!!
See the end of the work for more notes
It starts with a cup of jasmine tea.
When he's given the order, Zuko doesn't think anything of it. It's the most
popular order here, so he fills the cup and sets it on the tray, careful to
keep each cup a safe distance from each other so that he doesn't mix them up.
He delivers the other orders without problem, but when he reaches the recipient
of the jasmine tea, he's too focused on placing the cup on the table to see
who's sitting down.
Until his eyes catch a dash of blue.
Zuko glances up, surprised to see anything other than the usual shades of green
and brown, and horror grips at his heart with the threat of stopping it.
Slowly, his eyes travel up over the familiar blue robes, the white fur that
outlines the fabric, the damned necklace, until he meets a pair of shockingly
blue eyes as wide and as horrified as his own.
The enemy is sitting in his tea shop, in his meager place of refuge.
The waterbender.
Katara.
Silence stretches between them for several moments. And then her brows drop,
anger floods her eyes, and Zuko promptly snatches her from her seat and drags
her behind the counter before she can blow his cover. He ignores the curious
gazes they pass, pausing only before the owner. "An old friend," He mutters,
grimacing at the indignant huff behind him.
Zuko pulls Katara behind the counter and into the small kitchen to hide from
prying eyes. He whips around to face her, dropping her wrist as though it burns
him.
"What are you doing here?!" He hisses.
"Me?!" Her voice reaches a new octave, outraged and shrill. "What are you doing
here?! This is another trap of yours, isn't it? You were just - just waiting to
capture Aang, weren't you?!"
The accusations ripple across his skin and ignite the anger that lives inside
of him. How dare she accuse him of anything? He hasn't seen her ridiculous
group in weeks, and he wouldn't dare do anything to break the fragile security
he and Uncle have built here.
"Get out," Zuko snarls quietly, pointing to the door. His skin feels hot; his
heart is pounding harshly against his ribs. "Get out before you ruin everything
like you always do! I don't care about your stupid friend, now get out!"
Katara inhales and he swears the air around them drops by three degrees. "You
miserable-"
Zuko grabs her upper arms before she can finish her sentence and shoves Katara
through the back door, out into the dark alley. The sun is still high, and this
section of the city doesn't have a terrible crime rate, so he doesn't feel
guilty for kicking her out like this or for the fury storming across her face.
"Do not come back," He orders, slamming the door in her face. He throws the
lock into its socket and nearly melts the structure out of sheer frustration
when he hears fists pounding on the outside of the door.
Zuko steps away and counts silently in his head. He counts until he no longer
hears the waterbender outside. He counts until everything around him is utterly
silent. He counts until the heat boiling in his veins is gone. Only then does
he let his shoulders drop. Closing his eyes, Zuko exhales slowly and drags a
hand down his face.
Of course. Of course when things are going right, the gods and the spirits and
the stars and whoever the hell else insist on making his life difficult, like
always.
---------------
He keeps an eye out for her, and for her friends, every hour of every day that
passes.
On the third day, she comes back, this time with the lemur perched on her
shoulder. Zuko flat out refuses to serve her, much to the owner's chagrin. Each
time he passes the man he bows and apologizes, but he staunchly ignores the
table Katara and her lemur occupy. The daggers she glares at him embed
themselves into his back as the day progresses, icy and cold. She does not
leave, and the ice does not crack.
Only when the shop is empty does Katara finally stand. She doesn't leave, like
Zuko had hoped she would, but instead marches behind the counter. It infuriates
him, the way she walks around like she has a right to be wherever she plants
her feet. No one gave her that right, and she certainly hasn't earned it.
"Get out before I throw you out again," He demands.
Her eyes, so bright and so blue, widen and flash with the threat of the ocean
when she is unpredictable. "You wouldn't dare." The liquid in the tea pot on
the counter rattles threateningly.
Zuko growls, curling his hands, ready to lunge forward when Uncle steps out of
the kitchen. He stops with a start, eyes widening when he spots and recognizes
Katara. She takes a step back and raises her hands, but Uncle raises his as
well, waving them in a gesture of peace.
"We don't want any trouble," He insists quietly. "Whatever you may think of us,
we are not here to cause you grief."
Katara's eyes narrow. Her hand rests on the pouch at her hip, feet planted
firmly on the tiles; poised to attack. "Then why are you here?" She demands.
Uncle's eyes sweep the room. No one is around, but he ushers them into the
kitchen regardless. Zuko balks at the idea, eyes wide, but the sharp look Uncle
gives him quiets his unhappiness - though it doesn't quiet it enough to stop
his grumbling as he follows them into the kitchen.
It's a cramped space between the three of them. "We are here as refugees,"
Uncle says.
Katara scoffs, loudly and rudely, but Uncle merely nods. "Think about it. Would
Zuko be here willingly if that weren't the truth?"
That sharp blue gaze turns on him, critical, judgmental. "Absolutely not," She
sniffs.
Zuko crosses his arms tightly and glares at at the wall beside him. This place
was starting to become tolerable. He had finally allowed himself to accept
their lot in life, and now the universe has decided to tip the scale against
his favor once more.
Across from him, Katara watches him with the same critical gaze. She is closer
than he would like, a foot or two away in the small space; this close he can
see that her robes are worn with use and faded with time. A few fly away hairs
stick out from her braid. She crosses her arms and mirrors his pose. He scowls
openly at her.
Uncle turns around and removes the lid from a dish. He takes out two moon peach
cakes and places them on a napkin, then turns back and extends them to Katara.
"Your friend looks hungry," He explains, smiling when the lemur leans as far
off of Katara's shoulder as he can get without falling to sniff eagerly at the
offerings. Katara purses her lips, watching Uncle warily. She is far less
hostile with him than she is with Zuko. Slowly, she takes the cakes and holds
one out for the lemur. The creature devours it, trilling his approval as he
does.
Though her shoulders have relaxed, her eyes have not. Zuko looks away once
more. Something old and tired keens within him.
---------------
This is how it goes.
She returns every other day, and he learns to expect her presence, so he greets
her with Uncle's special tea mix and two moon peach cakes each time. She stays
in her corner of the shop, always tracking him, always watching, always
waiting. And he knows what she is waiting for. She believes what everyone else
believes of him; that there is nothing good about him. That he is rotten to his
very core.
He is used to the expectation of disappointment, and so he allows it to fuel
him to do better, to be better, to show that he is not as predictable as
everyone seems to think. He has long been tired of those chains around him and
now is his chance to shed them and be the man Uncle Iroh expects him to be.
On the day that she doesn't come, he serves the other patrons in his usual
silence. An older woman with a kind smile orders a single moon peach cake with
mint tea. Zuko fills the cup to the proper proportion. He removes a cake from
its container and places it on a saucer beside the cup, but instead of bringing
the order out, he stands there, staring at the cake.
It's small and round, with a gentle crater in the center for honey or icing.
Zuko stares at the pastry. The last time she was here, Katara had sat in her
corner feeding bits of the cake to her lemur - Momo, she'd called him. He'd
chirped at her, grabbing for the cake piece in her hand. Zuko had passed by
them just in time to see her smile, a small turn of her lips, but it was warm
and kind and affectionate none the less.
His stomach flutters as the memory plays out.
Steam rises from between his curled fists. Zuko snatches the tray from the
counter and hurries into the front room, banishing the memory from the front of
his mind.
---------------
It continues with Jin.
She is lovely in a way that he has not seen before. Her hair is long, sectioned
off into two lengthy braids, thick and dark. But her eyes are darker, that of
freshly turned earth. She smiles at Zuko each time he comes near her, as though
she is interested in his presence, and it unsettles him a good deal. She spends
a lot of time in the shop, watching Zuko as he works, which raises his
suspicions. Does she know that he is living a lie? Does she know that he is
Fire Nation? She has to know. Why else would she come by so often?
But when she smiles at him, it is warm and inviting, something he's never been
given access to before her visits, and he finds himself drawn in by her
presence. 
Mere minutes after Jin arrives, Katara walks through the door. Her eyes narrow
when she spots Zuko, like they always do, and she takes her favored spot in the
corner. The lemur isn't with her today. He's glad for that; it's getting
annoying cleaning up after his accidents.
Zuko passes by Jin once more to refill her drink. She offers him another smile,
leaning forward a bit to hold her cup out for him. It makes Zuko's stomach
flutter in a way he isn't used to. When he turns away, he catches Katara's
gaze. She rolls her eyes at him, and his face flushes with irritation. He
stomps back to the counter and sets the kettle down hard enough for the tray
under it to rattle.
He's mentioned Jin to Uncle. Pretty as she is, his alarm bells are ringing. She
finds Zuko at the counter to pay and begins asking questions. They're benign,
harmless, and Zuko wants to wince at the slight tremble in his voice as he
offers up a cover story. Jin only smiles at him, that same small, lovely smile,
and then does something no one has ever done before: she asks him on a date. He
can only stare, wide eyed, shocked into silence. Uncle answers for him and Jin
eats it right up, promising to meet him outside the shop at five sharp. He
watches her go, then frowns at Uncle, who only smiles. Zuko isn't even sure if
he's interested in the date or not - he's never been on one before in his
life. 
He glances across the room. The distance between them does nothing to blur the
sharpness of Katara's frown. Zuko looks away with a scowl.
---------------
It isn't the worst night of his life. Not by far. Jin has touched him more than
anyone else has since his mother disappeared; she's called him cute, she's been
kind and patient with him, even after the embarrassing attempt at juggling. All
the while she's smiled at him, bright and warm, filling his stomach with a
strange fluttering sensation. He's starting to think that maybe living as a
refugee isn't that horrible after all.
The disappointment on Jin's face when she brings him to the darkened fountain
is almost heartbreaking. Zuko watches her for a moment, flexes his fingertips.
"Close your eyes," He tells her, "And don't peak." 
Jin's sweet smile emerges, this time tinted with excitement and curiosity. She
places both hands firmly over her eyes. He doesn't want to admit how cute he
finds that to be.
Zuko looks around warily. He moves closer to the fountain and takes in each
lamp, presses his hands together to center himself. The fire he's been
repressing begins to creep through his veins with a welcomed heat. Widening his
stance, he moves quickly, throwing a number of small flames into each lamp.
They find their destination and together create a ring of light around the
fountain. It's as lovely as Jin insisted.
He turns to her. Her eyes are still covered, so he takes a moment to study her.
She looks even prettier with her hair pulled high like it is. "Okay. Now you
can look." His voice comes out soft, a threadbare whisper.
Jin lowers her hands and her eyes widen. "Oh, wow," She breathes. She moves to
Zuko's side in wonder. "What happened? How did they light? What did you-" She
cuts herself off with a slight shake of her head and turns to Zuko curiously.
Zuko's smile is small and secretive. He doesn't answer, turns to face the
fountain instead. The lamps floating in the water rove continually around the
fountain; the fire in them reflects amber streaks across the nearly black
surface. It's beautiful.
He looks down when Jin's hand finds his and turns to her. Her touch is warm,
welcomed; no one has been so open with him. So readily accepting. She's moving
closer, making his heart pound loudly. Zuko reaches into his pocket. "I brought
you something," He blurts, thrusting a coupon between them - a flimsy barrier
to protect his suddenly anxious heart. "It's a coupon for a free cup of tea."
One brown eye watches him around the coupon. "Li," She says, reaching up to
take it, and he wishes fleetingly that it was his real name, "This is so
sweet." 
"Don't thank me, it was my uncle's idea." He steps away and rubs the back of
his neck. "He thinks you're our most valuable customer."
"Your uncle is a good man." The hand on his cheek startles him. He follows her
pull until he's looking at Jin once again. "I have something for you, too. Now
it's your turn to close your eyes."
Zuko squints for a moment, suddenly wary. But he closes his eyes and waits,
head bowed, unsure of what to expect.
It certainly isn't a kiss.
The contact is brief, but it electrifies him, the simplest press of her lips
against his. He follows her without thought when she pulls away and kisses her
again, suddenly craving the intimacy, the softness of her mouth, and then he
pulls away abruptly, stumbling back before turning away from her. Something
bitter and ugly coils within his gut.
"What's wrong?" The hurt in Jin's voice is plaintive, striking at the
bitterness within him. 
He stares at the ground. "It's complicated. I have to go." Zuko forces himself
to leave, forces himself to walk away from the comfort of the fire burning
around them, from the warmth and affection Jin had offered. 
Shame crawls through him. What had he been thinking? Nothing good could have
come from that and lasted. Such a good, lovely girl like Jin deserves far
better than him. Zuko grimaces at the cobblestones beneath his feet. The
longing inside of his chest disgusts him.
"That was utterly pathetic."
Zuko whips around. Katara is standing behind him, arms crossed, a mean sneer
distorting her features. The darkness of the street hides most of her face in
shadow. Anger explodes within him, hot and dangerous. "What are you doing
here?" He growls.
Her eyes widen just a bit, as if she's been caught at something, but she
quickly narrows them. "I didn't trust you with that girl," Katara answers. She
crosses her arms, as if defending herself from the accusation tossed at her
feet. "I thought you might try something, but all you did was embarrass
yourself." The disdain dripping over her words cuts at the old creature living
inside of him, adds another lash to its scarred hide.
Zuko growls again, a frustrated noise. His fingers curl through the air around
nothing; steam trails from their tips. "It was a date!" He shouts. His voice
bounces against the walls of the buildings surrounding them. "She asked me on a
date, she wanted to spend time with me! Why is that so hard to believe? I
would never have done anything to hurt her, she's too good!"
The anger leaves him in a sudden rush, deflates him like a popped balloon. A
heavy ache settles across his lungs. "Is it really so hard to believe that I
deserve anything good?" His voice is so quiet, so raw and bruised, but he
doesn't care. He's been without his armor for too long now; it's impossible to
keep his wounds covered. 
Shoulders hunched, Zuko turns away. He misses the shock in Katara's eyes -
misses the way it melts into shame and remorse. Zuko sinks onto a small bench.
It's cold and lonely like him. He scrubs at his eye with the heel of his hand,
tries in vain to rub away the tears there. He wishes he had never come out,
wishes he had never come to this city, wishes he had never been banished -
wishes he had never met a waterbender with more fire in her than she deserves.
"Zuko, I'm sorry."
Her voice startles him. He looks up with a frown to find Katara standing in
front of him. Her fingers are laced together; shame lingers in the corners of
her mouth. Her eyes widen at the sight of the tears glittering against his
lashes, against the mottled ridge of his scar. "No, please don't cry," She
murmurs. Her mouth tugs down into a pout full of guilt. She sinks into a crouch
and touches his knee lightly. "I'm sorry," She apologizes again, eyes searching
his, "That was really mean. I don't know why I said it." 
Zuko can only stare at her. They've only been this close once, maybe twice.
Fire, ice, anger, even hatred had always been protective barriers between them;
now, there is none of that. The air is different, thick with something he can't
name, has never known. Her eyes look so pale, stripped of their vibrant blue,
almost the color of bone.
"You haven't done anything truly bad since I found you here," Katara continues,
"I just - I don't know, I didn't want to let my guard down, I guess." Her eyes
search his and she lifts a hand. He flinches away when she reaches for the
ruined side of his face, so she exchanges that hand for the other and brushes
her fingertips across the smooth skin of his unblemished cheek. Tiny bolts of
electricity race along his skin under her touch. "Please don't cry," She
repeats, voice softer, and leans in.
She kisses him. She kisses him, a simple press of her lips against his, and
it's like she's frozen the blood in his veins, every drop of water inside of
his body. His eyes are wide with shock. Not even in his dreams could he have
imagined this happening. Katara presses several small, gentle kisses to his
mouth, and after the fourth one, he melts enough to respond. His mouth moves
against hers, unsure, slightly clumsy, but her fingers rest on his chin and she
guides him. A curious liquid sensation rolls down his arms, down his torso,
settles into the pit of his stomach. His eyes fall closed and he allows himself
to simply feel, to experience the strangeness of the moment.
Her thumb caressing his jaw brings him back to reality. His heart stutters
against his ribs and Zuko jerks back, tumbles off of the bench. He stares at
Katara, eyes round and scared. She stares back at him, uncertainty written into
every feature. He doesn't know what to make of what just happened. If it's a
trick, it is an ugly and dirty one to play.
Touching his mouth with the back of his hand, Zuko does the only thing he can -
he runs. He refuses to look back, refuses to slow down until he's in the
apartment, until he's in his room. He can feel the weight of Uncle's stare
through the screen, knows he has questions, but he can't face that right now.
How can he answer them when he can't even answer his own?
Zuko touches his lower lip. His hand trembles. The imprint of Katara's touch
lingers, and he wonders if it will scar him, too.
---------------
It changes with the kiss. 
Days pass without Katara's presence. Zuko tries in vain to pretend she had
never invaded this new life he's building in this stone city. He goes about his
days, serves tea and pastries like he's supposed to. He pretends the corner
Katara occupies isn't somehow darker and more forlorn without her presence. He
pretends none of this has ever even happened.
And then she's back one day, standing in the door way when he turns around. The
sight of her causes him to drop his tray in shock. For a moment he's frozen in
time, surrounded by chipped tea cups and dredges of tea, shocked that she
actually returned. 
Katara turns her hand over, almost lazily, and the liquid on the floor is
placed in the one cup that managed to land up right. She steps forward to
gather the contents on the floor, but Zuko snatches everything with trembling
fingers. He clutches the tray and its broken contents and rushes behind the
counter, slams everything down, and hurries into the kitchen. His heart is
pounding, threatening to burst through his ribs and flop across the floor until
it lands at Katara's feet. Zuko growls angrily. A few kisses and suddenly he's
a simpering, nervous idiot. He grips his chest and focuses on his breathing,
staunchly ignoring the memory of her mouth on his.
---------------
It goes on like this.
Zuko refuses to see Katara whenever she visits, refuses to even leave the
kitchen on those days. She begins to linger well into the night, forcing him to
hide for hours. Uncle begins crafting wild excuses for Zuko's behavior; it's
only his excellent service and tea making skills that keep them from both being
fired. The entire situation begins to infuriate Zuko; he's jeopardizing all of
the hard work they've put into this new life over a girl. He's better than
that, he knows he is. 
When he finally emerges from the kitchen, she is there, and he stubbornly
ignores her. He ignores the persistent stares, ignores her table, ignores her
entire existence. Many of the familiar customers, gentle older men and women,
ask after his health, and it both humbles and embarrasses him. His behavior has
been childish. He assures everyone that asks that his health has improved, but
continues to ignore Katara's presence.
Eventually the shop is empty of all customers but one. Zuko sweeps up the
floor, wipes down the rest of the tables, and continues to ignore the
waterbender watching him. He moves behind the counter and carries the left over
tea cups into the kitchen. It surprised him to learn that washing dishes isn't
as horrible as a chore as he had first thought; now he finds it calming and
methodical. 
The door behind him slams open. Zuko whips around, eyes narrowing as Katara
barges into the room. "What is your problem?" She demands. Her voice fills the
small room, angry and - hurt? "You've been avoiding me for days! I know I was a
jerk, but was it really that bad?" 
A dull ache begins to pound at his temples. "What are you talking about?" He
grits out.
Her hands land on her hips and the sight is intimidating. "We kissed!" Katara
shouts. "I know I don't have the most experience, but - but we kissed! That's
important, it means something!" The fire in her vibrant eyes fades just a bit
as she regards him. "Doesn't it?"
Zuko stares at Katara for several heartbeats. His brain feels as though it's
melted inside of his skull. "Of - of course it means something!" He stammers. A
harsh flush creeps up his neck, painting his cheeks a violent red that almost
matches his scar. "That - it was - Jin is the only other person that kissed me
and that was right before you did, of course it means something!" He paces back
and forth like an agitated alley cat. "But - but-" He growls, fingers curling
into his palms. He has never been good with words, but to struggle so much in
this moment is infuriating. "You're the enemy! I'm you're enemy, you can't -
we're not supposed to - it had to have been a fluke!" 
His pacing stops abruptly and he turns to Katara. "Right?" He demands. "It was
a fluke, wasn't it? Just some trick you were playing on me. Wasn't it?"
Katara inhales. Her chest rises with the motion. "No!" She answers, her voice
once again filling the room, "No, it wasn't a trick or a fluke! La, Zuko, I am
not that kind of person! I would never intentionally mess with someone like
that!" She stomps closer, traps him against the counter. 
Zuko feels frozen in place by the indignity in Katara's eyes, by the anxiety in
his stomach. She's closer than she was that night under the moon, almost chest
to chest. The soft light of the kitchen reflects in her eyes; they're as blue
as the ocean on a clear day and Zuko feels in danger of drowning in them.
"If my word isn't good enough," She breathes, "Then I'll prove it to you."
And then her mouth is on his again, and the ground shifts under his feet. This
is not the chaste and gentle touch that she bestowed on him that night; this
kiss is demanding, passionate, full of something Zuko doesn't know how to
identify. Katara's mouth moves against his with a ferocity that he has never
known, almost brutal in the way she sears him with the shape of it.
Zuko jerks away, sucks in a sharp breath that rattles through his lungs.
Something white hot burns in his blood stream to the point of pain. He moves
back, tries to step away, but Katara places a hand on his chest. "Zuko," She
murmurs, and the world around him stills. "Don't run away from me this time." 
Zuko stares into Katara's eyes and this time he knows he's drowning, slipping
down to the very depths of her soul. Her hand stays on his chest; the other
moves to his cheek, to the one that isn't ruined, just like the last time. She
leans in again, and this time, her kiss is gentle, so soft that something
inside of him shatters. He responds hesitantly, mouth moving clumsily against
hers for a moment. But Katara is patient. Her thumb slides across Zuko's cheek,
her hand shifts to settle over his heart, feels the harsh pound of it under her
palm, and he has the strange thought that when she leaves tonight, she might be
taking his heart with her. 
For the first time, Zuko allows himself to enjoy the moment before him. He
allows himself to bask in the sensations surrounding him, in the fragility of
whatever is building between them. He settles his hands on Katara's waist and
initiates another kiss. Her mouth is almost unbearably soft, and he's glad at
least one of them seems to know what they're doing.
When they finally part, he isn't the only one breathing unsteadily. Katara
watches him. Her eyes are round, a bit dazed, tinted with wonder. No one in the
world has ever looked at him like that. His fingers tighten on her waist.
Just like that, everything between them has changed. Zuko can't look away,
can't let go just yet, and idly he wonders just how badly this will hurt when
he has to.
---------------
It continues in secret.
Katara returns to the tea shop every few days. She stays until well after
closing time, occasionally helping with clean up, letting Uncle Iroh charm her
with his long winded tales. She seems to sense the emotions Zuko can't quite
express, which he is grateful for. Being around her like this makes him feel
skittish, fragile; it is a battlefield that is entirely different from the ones
that they've met on in the past, and this time, the enemy he seems to be
fighting is himself.
Often he wonders if her friends know where she is, but he can't quite bring
himself to ask. It isn't often that he gets anything to himself, especially
something as precious as this. He'd rather not spoil it by worrying about what
others might be thinking.
Tonight Katara sits on the counter, watching as Zuko cleans the dishes.
Occasionally she'll manipulate the water for him, but he waves her off with a
smile, mostly to hear the soft laughter she responds with. 
"We found Appa," Katara says.
He looks up, but chooses not to comment. He doesn't want to give away the fact
that he was the one that found Appa beneath the city, freed the bison to return
to the Avatar's side where he belonged. The temptation to keep him and use him
for bait had been strong, but his memories of Katara's touch had been stronger,
so he had done the right thing and let the great beast go to find his
companion.
A small smile curves Katara's full mouth. "We were all so worried, Aang
especially," She continues. "He's so happy to have him back. It's
understandable, Appa has been by his side for, well, over a hundred years."
It's odd for Zuko to hear about the Avatar in such a mundane manner - to be
reminded that such a powerful being that represents so much is really only a
child. He glances up, looks away from the gentleness in Katara's eyes. A small
flame of jealousy licks at his stomach. Of course she would speak so highly of
the boy. She's defended him with everything in her since the day Zuko had
stumbled upon her small village. Not for the first time, he wonders why she's
here instead of with the Avatar.
"I suppose we'll be leaving soon." The forlorn note in her voice sticks to his
ribs. She sighs softly. "There's still so much to do, so much for Aang to
learn."
Zuko stands up. He dries his hands, lets the towel flutter to the floor, and
moves to Katara. When she lifts her chin to look at him, he kisses her.
"Don't," He murmurs, voice rasping over the word. 
Her eyes soften, sadness creeping up from their depths like the midnight tide.
"Zuko," She whispers, but he shakes his head, silences her with another kiss.
He knows she's right; he knows her group cannot stay in Ba Sing Se forever,
knows that soon this will come to an end, but he isn't ready to deal with that
just yet.
Katara sighs softly. She slides her arms around Zuko's neck, holds him to her,
kisses him with a tenderness that threatens to drown him. He settles one hand
at her waist, rests the other at the middle of her back, and allows himself to
slip into the moment. He is acutely aware of everything; the hairs escaping her
braid that brush against the back of his hand, the coarse fabric of her tunic,
her knees against his thighs, her chest mere centimeters from his. He wonders
if her heart is beating as savagely as his is. Her mouth is so soft against
his, so warm, guiding him in how to respond to her, allowing him the room he
needs to learn.
She breaks the kiss, leans back to look him in the eye. "You could come with
us." 
The suggestion is quiet, but he jerks away, forces himself to take several
steps back. Katara reaches for him, drops to her feet. "I mean it!" She
insists. "Aang still needs to master firebending! Who better to teach him than
you?" 
Zuko swallows thickly, swallows down the flare of irrational anger and mistrust
that threatens to lash out. Her gaze is so earnest, he knows she believes in
what she's saying. 
"I can't." He turns away, begins stacking the dishes more aggressively than
necessary. They rattle with the impact. "Just because you tolerate me doesn't
mean your friends will. They'd sooner toss me off of the wall than let me join
them." And he wouldn't blame them; he hasn't exactly been the friendliest
person to them. 
Katara huffs behind him. "I don't just tolerate you and you know it. And they
would come around! They're reasonable!" She pauses. He can hear her foot
scuffing against the tiles. "Mostly. Aang is, anyway. But Sokka and Toph would
come around at some point, I know they would."
"No." He hesitates, stares at a tea cup in his hands. "Besides, I couldn't
leave my uncle."
"He could come with us, too!" Katara moves closer. She tugs on Zuko's shoulder
in an attempt to turn him around. "Of course he could come with us. Even if you
don't want to teach Aang, Iroh could! Zuko, please look at me."
He grits his teeth, exhales through his nose. Something about the way she says
his name makes it impossible to resist anything she asks of him. He turns
reluctantly, looks anywhere but at her for several seconds. Once he does, she
ghosts her fingers along his jaw, electrifying him. 
"I want you to come with us," Katara says. Her voice is soft, eyes round and
so, so blue. Bluer than any part of the ocean he traveled across. "Please think
about it."
Zuko curses quietly and hangs his head. She could ask him for every star in the
sky and he'd be compelled to bring them to her. "Fine," He mutters, "I'll think
about it." 
He is rewarded with a kiss on the cheek for his troubles, and somehow, it is
enough.
---------------
It shifts under the full moon.
The idea to take Katara on a date belongs to Uncle Iroh. To Zuko, it sounds
like a disaster in the making. To Katara, it sounds like the adventure of a
life time. And it's the look of excitement in her blue eyes that weakens Zuko's
resolve.
As it happens, a small festival is taking place within their section of the
city. It's Uncle that suggests that Zuko to take Katara to the festival for
their date, and he's outwardly relieved to have the idea; he hadn't been able
to come up with anything on his own.
Katara arrives after sunset. They had agreed on meeting in the tea shop as
usual and this is where Zuko waits. He smooths his vest, a part of the same
outfit he had worn that night with Jin; his options for clothing are limited
now and he wants to look nice. 
He hears footsteps, and when he looks up at the door way, his breath catches. 
Blue is the color that has always surrounded her, so Zuko has never seen her in
anything else, but Katara stands before him tonight dressed in shades of green,
wearing them as naturally as she commands her element. The color is dark, like
olives, with a sash and another robe underneath the color of cream. The most
breath taking part, though, is seeing her hair down. Without the braid to
contain it all, her hair is a mass of dark, rich brown that cascades down her
back, thick and unruly and wild. The loops in her hair are still present - a
small but comforting familiarity. 
Zuko can't look away as she comes closer. The colors compliment the warmth of
her brown skin, make her eyes stand out like rare gem stones. 
His heart never really stood a chance.
"Look at you," Katara murmurs. She stops in front of Zuko with a smile. "You
look so handsome." 
His blush is hot and swift and merciless. Zuko stands and clears his throat.
"Thank you," He mumbles. "You look - you look beautiful." 
Her eyes light up, and the sweetest flush coats her cheeks above her smile, and
Zuko feels weightless for several heart beats. He ushers her out before Uncle
can ambush them and leads her into the depths of the city. 
The atmosphere has changed drastically. Lamps line the street to lend a warmth
to the night that doesn't usually exist; strings of silver ornaments hang
between each one, twinkling merrily in the light. The sound of drums and horns
and singing carries to them from somewhere deeper in the ring, and the wind
brings with it the smell of sweets and warm food. Katara inhales deeply.
"Something smells good," She comments, and then she captures Zuko's hand and
drags him down the street. They weave through throngs of people enjoying the
festivities, enjoying a night off from their every day lives. Children run
about, their shrieks blending with the distant music, tiny feet pounding in
harmony with the drums. Lovers mingle about to relax in each other's company,
twined together by the hand, the arm, unaware of anything else existing outside
of their bubble. Zuko looks down at the top of Katara's head, noticing the
large pink flower in her hair, and allows himself to smile. The pleasantry of
the night is getting to him already.
They stop under an awning with tables and chairs scattered about. The music is
closer now, but not yet close enough. Katara smiles at Zuko from across the
table. "Your hair is getting long," She notes. "It suits you. Makes you look
your age." 
Zuko smiles a bit, touches the ends of his hair self consciously. It's been
years since he's worn it grown completely out. Katara reaches out and slides
her fingers through his hair. She bunches a handful into a gentle fist, hums in
approval. "Soft as silk."
Zuko swallows. He'd never thought such a thing could feel nice, but if he could
get away with it, he thinks he might be content to lay still for hours so that
Katara could do whatever she pleased with his hair. 
They're back on their feet after a small meal of rice and fruit slices. Katara
leads him through the crowd. He'd never noticed before that she's a good few
inches shorter than him; it's kind of cute.
Her feet are following the music and his feet are following her. The crowd
thickens the closer they get to the source of the sound. Zuko holds onto
Katara's hand to keep her close. His gaze moves warily back and forth; he
hasn't quite gotten used to being around so many people, and the worry of being
discovered never quite leaves the back of his mind.
"This is beautiful," Katara says, half shouting to be heard. The music is
different from anything Zuko has heard, and apparently different for Katara as
well. It's loud, pulsing; the drums seem to beat right through his bones.
Powerful, just like the Earth Kingdom and its people. Zuko observes the people
dancing around them. He hasn't had much experience with Earthbenders - thank
Agni, they scare him - but the people here dance as though they intend to move
the earth beneath their feet. Their movements are powerful, sharp, precise. 
There is a certain beauty in it, he muses, eyes locked on a man reaching for
the stones as if he could wrench them from the ground and make them apart of
his routine. There is no refinement to it, no elegance. It all feels raw, very
lived in and current. There are no restraints around them - tonight, everyone
is free of the lives they labor through day to day. 
Zuko guides Katara out of the crowd. She doesn't fight him, though her gaze is
riveted to the performers, to the way they beat on the drums and pluck the
strings the instruments creating the thick pulse beneath the drums. She turns
to him, and the light in her eyes, so bright and vibrant, falls on him like
sunlight. He soaks up every bit of it that he can.
"Can you dance?" She asks eagerly. 
His mouth contorts. "Uh-"
Katara laughs. She grabs his hands and tugs him closer. "I can't, it's okay,"
She insists. Her body begins to move, a gentle swaying that doesn't fit at all
to the harshness of the music around them, but a movement Zuko finds himself
hypnotized by.
Of course she moves beautifully. Katara's body begins to twist and turn, moving
as fluidly as the element she commands. She tugs Zuko closer to her and traps
him within her spell. He tries to follow her rhythm, but no one could possibly
keep up with her, the true daughter of the moon, water incarnate. 
He quickly abandons trying to copy her movements and simply lets her body guide
his. Her hands hold his hip, rest at the center of his back, guiding him along
the gentle waves she coasts on. He moves a bit too sharply, almost painfully
so, but she is persistent. The fire in him begins to adapt to her, and his body
flows into hers, closer and closer until they are flush together. 
"Can't dance," He mutters, "Right."
Katara's smile is playful. "You're not as bad as you seem to think you are." 
Her smile is contagious, puts one on his face as well. He allows his hands to
drift down her waist, to span her hips. The silk of her robe catches on the
roughened cracks in his skin; her hair brushes at his cheek when he leans down.
She turns her head and searches his cheek with her mouth. He feels the phantom
touch all the way down to his bones, and he can't resist turning his head to
meet her lips. 
The kiss is soft enough when their mouths meet, but the fire grows between them
quickly and spreads. Katara brings her arms up to circle Zuko's neck. She
presses closer to him, as if the lack of space between them still isn't enough,
but he matches her need with his own by tightening his hands on her hips, by
deepening the kiss with a sweep of his tongue across her lower lip. A faint
moan rises in the back of her throat and turns Zuko into liquid heat.
Katara pulls back slowly, just enough to look him in the eye. Her eyes are
electric, pinning him in place. They are full of things he cannot name, things
that threaten to drag him under, and the scariest part is that he is more than
willing to let them. "I don't want to go back tonight," She breathes. Her
breath is warm across his skin. "I want to stay with you. I don't want to go."
His heart slams against his chest. Zuko swallows hard, nervously. His fingers
bunch in the fabric around her hips. Katara watches him earnestly, so
earnestly; her hand slides up to cup the back of his head. She's made the
confession so easily, as if it costs her nothing at all to lay the wishes of
her heart bare before him. Something in his heart responds with a painful
yearning. He's wanted her to stay longer and longer each time she's visited
him, but he's never been able to say as much. To know she feels the same, even
for just one night, feels like a gift.
"Then stay," He whispers. 
She kisses him in response, fierce and full of need. When she pulls away, he
follows her mouth, feeling utterly bereft of the warmth her kisses infuse him
with. Katara bites her lip. She slides her hands down his chest and finds his
own, pulls him out of the alley. Zuko follows her immediately, unable to do
anything else.
He's hardly aware of the crowd as they move. Bodies press in from all sides,
enjoying the music, their rare night of freedom, but he doesn't notice. His
gaze is locked on Katara, fixated on the shape of her shoulders beneath the
robe, the length and volume of her hair, the way it bounces slightly as she
moves, the pink flower nestled against the back of her head. The color looks so
nice against the rich darkness of all that hair, he finds himself wondering
what she would look like in the same shade of pink.
The crowd begins to thin when they get closer to the apartment. Zuko shifts his
hold on Katara's hand to slide his fingers between hers as he leads her in the
right direction. He looks down at their intertwined fingers and quietly marvels
at the sight. There's a simple intimacy belonging to the touch that he never
expected, and now that he's experiencing it, he finds himself in awe at how
comforting it is. 
The apartment is empty, and as he shuts the door, Zuko thanks Agni and any
other spirit that might be listening that Uncle likes to stay out so late
playing his pai sho games with the friends he's made around here.
It's dark, but he knows the way around. Zuko leads Katara to the small room
that he sleeps in. He shuts the door behind her and moves to the small lamp in
the corner, crouching down to ignite a flame inside of it. The light
illuminates the room and acknowledges just how sparse the place is; his bedroll
sits under the window, the blanket folded neatly across the end of it, his few
clothing items folded beside the bedroll, with his swords beneath the material.
Along with the lamp, nothing else occupies the space.
Katara moves into the room once she can see. Zuko stands and watches her, takes
a step forward. She faces him as she sinks onto the bedroll. He takes two more
steps, stops before the thin mattress. Katara's eyes are on him as she leans
back on her hands, alluring and mysterious. 
His heart rams against his ribs as he drinks in what lays before him. Here is
Katara, stretched out on his bed, bathed in the moonlight like an offering from
the gods that he doesn't deserve. The sight brings Zuko to his knees.
Katara sits up to meet him. Her hands frame his face, one carefully avoiding
his scar, and the attention and respect she gives him threatens to overwhelm
him. Her lips are soft against his, with a hint of the same heat she had kissed
him with in the alley, and it pulls him closer until his knees sit between
hers, his hands finding her waist for balance. 
Her hands delve into his hair, nails scraping his scalp gently. Zuko shivers
and presses closer. His hand slides to Katara's lower back to bring her closer.
The space is steadily disappearing between them and his heart is beginning to
notice, picking up its pace. Her fingers tangled in his hair makes him feel
bold, her mouth on his makes him feel wanted, so he reaches up to unfasten the
neck of her robe. Zuko breaks the kiss and glances down. The brown skin peeking
out is tantalizing, teasing. He pries the fabric as open as much he can and
leans in to kiss her neck.
Katara gasps at the contact. She arches, tips her head to offer him better
access. Zuko creates a trail of open mouthed kisses along her neck; he rests
his lips over the quick beat of her pulse, astounded that he is the cause of
it. He closes his mouth over the rapid fluttering under her skin and a faint,
soft moan slides out of her mouth.
The sound awakens something within Zuko. He sits back with a sharp inhale and
unfurls the sash around Katara's waist. It falls helplessly to the mattress as
he opens her robe, then fumbles with his own until it gaps around his torso.
With trembling fingers he pushes the material off of him; the air feels cool
against the fever rising beneath his skin. Katara stares at him with wide eyes.
She reaches out, draws a finger down the center of Zuko's stomach and stops at
the waist of his pants. The muscles beneath her fingertip contract tightly.
Sitting up, Katara slides her robe off of her shoulders. There is another layer
of clothing to go, but the cream colored slip outlines her in a way that makes
Zuko's mouth go dry.
Katara reaches for him, pulls him down into a kiss that spikes the fever inside
of him. Her hands travel along his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his
sides, his back, exploring every bit of him that she can reach. "Off," She
mumbles against his mouth, breath warm and quick, pulling her arms back to
pluck at her clothing. "Take it off." 
Biting his lip, Zuko unravels the garment and slides it off of Katara. It pools
around her hips with the outer layer, leaving her in her white wrappings. Zuko
can only stare for several heartbeats. The contrast is striking, bone against
the deepest bronze. Her hands frame his face once more, and he's surprised by
the warmth of her touch, normally so cool. Zuko presses slow kisses to her
palm, the heal of her hand, her inner wrist. Her pulse jumps beneath his lips
and she grabs the back of his neck, hauls him down to crush his mouth to hers. 
Her fingers slide through his hair again, unable to stay away, and he groans at
the contact. One hand settles around the nape of his neck, the other travels
down his torso once more, but this time, she doesn't stop at the waist of his
pants. Her touch slides lower to brush the part of him straining against the
material and he jumps, pulling back with an unsteady gasp. Katara pulls away
and watches him. There is no judgment in her eyes, which helps him relax.
Exhaling, Zuko finds her wrist and guides her hand back to him.
Katara watches him as she palms him, slowly, carefully, curiously. She watches
the way his chest begins to heave, the way a visible flush spreads under his
cheeks and across his nose, the way his eyes flutter closed. Zuko moans softly;
the sound bubbles up in his throat, unbidden. He isn't necessarily a stranger
to his own body, he knows it well enough, but no one else has ever touched him
so intimately. To consider that it might actually feel good is beyond his
ability to think at the moment.
He forces his eyes open and nudges Katara's hand away gently. Any more and he
might come too soon. Swallowing hard, Zuko reaches for the waist of his pants
and slides them down his hips slowly. Katara's gaze immediately locks onto his
arousal. The blatant stare makes him flush a violent red; he's never been so
exposed to anyone before. But the fascination, the sheer hunger in her eyes,
makes his cock throb in ways he's never experienced before.
Katara's gaze locks with his as she reaches for the knot that holds her
wrappings together. Zuko inhales. His eyes follow the hypnotizing movement of
her hands as they unravel the bindings, inch by inch, layer by layer. Slowly
more and more of her brown skin is exposed until the wrappings fall away to lay
with her robes. The sight is arresting. Zuko stares for a long moment, then
reaches out to trace the line of Katara's ribs. He follows the shape of her
breasts, brushes his thumbs over the peak of her nipples, which fascinate him
to no end. 
With a quiet, unsteady breath, Katara closes her eyes and shifts. Zuko glances
up and takes this as a sign of encouragement, that he's doing something right.
He continues his exploration and allows his fingers to travel downward, over
the soft swell of her stomach. He palms the shape of her hips and finds that he
loves just how perfectly they fit into his hands, as if he had been made to
hold their exact shape. Peeking up, he draws his fingers across her hips,
through the patch of curls at the apex of her thighs. Katara inhales sharply
and Zuko stops, looks up. Her eyes are wide, lips slightly parted and terribly
inviting. She meets his eyes and slowly parts her legs - permission. An
invitation. 
Zuko lets out a slow breath. The hand resting on her hip is trembling, so he
slides his thumb back and forth in an attempt to soothe them both. Gently,
carefully, Zuko moves his hand further down until he finds her center. Katara
inhales at the touch, feather light and careful, and sits up just a bit. Zuko
glances up, paying close attention to her reactions. He thinks she is as new to
this as he is, being touched by someone else, which helps ease the fluttering
in his stomach. It shocks him, how wet she is, and when she takes his wrist and
guides his hand up just a bit, he follows obediently until he finds a small bud
hidden beneath her curls. Katara makes a soft noise, a quiet little keen, when
Zuko brushes his thumb over the bundle of nerves. He watches her as he moves
his thumb in slow circles; he is somewhat clumsy with his movements, but if
Katara knows this, she doesn't say. Her hips shift lightly against his hand,
and judging by the look on her face, it's not as bad as he might think.
Zuko pulls his hand away gently and Katara makes another quiet noise, almost a
little sigh of disappointment. A small smile touches his mouth. He slides his
hand up her side as he shifts closer, and she lays back completely, compelling
him to follow her until he's half hovering over her. Katara reaches out and
settles one hand on his cheek, the other on his shoulder, and kisses him. It's
insistent, demanding,  strokes the fire in his blood. His cock is aching now,
hard and heavy between his legs.  
He nudges her knees apart, settles between her legs properly, and feels his
heart tumble hard against his ribs when the tip of his cock touches her folds.
Katara's breath stutters loudly in the quiet of the room. She turns her head
and bumps her nose against Zuko's gently, a touch that comforts him, and widens
her legs to accommodate him. Her knees rest somewhere near his hips; the press
of skin against skin makes his pulse race in his veins. 
It takes a bit of adjustment, and then he eases himself inside of her, slowly,
carefully, inch by inch. Their breaths mingle in unsteady gasps, seemingly
filling the room. Zuko grits his teeth, rests his forehead to Katara's shoulder
for a moment. She grips his arms, hissing quietly as she adjusts to the
sensations herself. Slowly, her body begins to relax. Zuko presses a row of
kisses along Katara's shoulder. He refuses to budge an inch until he knows
she's comfortable.
Katara lifts a hand to his hair. "Zuko," She whispers, "Move." 
And so he does.
Zuko rocks his hips lightly. His body seems to know what to do, but his mind is
still unsure, still a bit shocked at what's actually happening. He lifts his
head to look at Katara, brushes her hair off of her shoulder. 
He almost stills completely when she laughs at him.
"You look so serious!" She murmurs, lifting her hands to his face. "Don't think
about it too much. I know it's a little weird, but it feels good, too." Her
smile eases some of the tension in his shoulders. She pulls him down to her,
and her kiss relaxes him completely, allows him to find an easier rhythm, one
that makes her gasp into his mouth.
Katara moans softly and Zuko kisses her again, swallows the sound to bury it
somewhere deep within him. The pleasure building inside of him is astounding;
he never imagined being so close to another person could feel so good. His
mouth touches the corner of hers, tastes her jaw, trails down her neck to taste
her skin. Katara moans again, arching just a bit, and Zuko inhales, wraps a
hand around her hip and begins to thrust a bit faster. He's becoming greedy for
those noises, for the way she reacts to him. Here, in the privacy of his room,
with only the moon watching them, it seems to him that their bodies were made
for this, for each other. It seems to him that she is a gift from the spirits
for all of the suffering they have put him through.
Zuko lifts his head and rests his forehead to Katara's. She cups the back of
his head and slides her fingers into his hair, tugs at the strands in her hold,
and he groans, arching against her. Pleasure rolls down his spine to pool low
in his gut - building steadily with each touch. Katara bites her lip and slides
her free hand down Zuko's chest. Her fingertips rest lightly over his heart,
and he knows she's aware of the way it pounds wildly in response to her.
It feels so natural to be joined with her so intimately, like nothing else he
has ever experienced. Zuko kisses Katara, brushes his tongue along hers when
she slides it into his mouth. He cups her breast, rolls her nipple under his
thumb, and is delighted to discover just how sensitive this part of her is. She
breaks the kiss with a moan, arching to push against his hand. 
The pressure is beginning to build, beginning to overtake him. Zuko kisses
Katara once more, frantic and needy. Her grip on his hair tightens just a bit,
and she reaches for his hand. Katara slides her fingers between his and holds
on tightly, as if she needs an anchor to keep her in this world. Her walls
clench around his cock, and he moans, knowing she must be close, too. 
Katara drops her head back, and stretched out beneath him like this, lost in
her pleasure, she looks like an other worldly being, like the spirit of the
moon trapped among flesh and bone. Zuko leans down, presses hot kisses to the
center of her chest. His mouth wanders over the slope of her breast, his tongue
flicks at her nipple, and she moans loudly, squeezing his hand in response.
"Zuko," Katara moans, and he comes with a ragged gasp. His hips thrust
erratically as he rides through the pleasure filling every cell in his body.
Katara tightens around him suddenly and cries out, the sound torn from her
throat as her own orgasm overcomes her. Her hips rock against Zuko's as it
washes over her, soft little moans accompanying the movements. 
Katara slumps against the bedroll as the pleasure ebbs away and Zuko slumps
against her. He rests the unmarred side of his face to her chest; the rapid
beating of her heart fills his ear, blocking out all other sound. He closes his
eyes and listens to it like an undiscovered song, oblivious to the rest of the
world's existence.
---------------
Zuko awakens the minute the sun emerges over the horizon.
He sits up immediately and looks to his left. Katara is stretched out beside
him, sound asleep. He watches her for a long moment to convince himself that
the events of the night before hadn't been some cruel dream. Zuko eases down
onto his side and watches Katara. She is sleeping deeply, undisturbed by his
movement. She looks entirely different now; the sunlight warms her skin to a
golden shade of brown, plays in the wild mess of hair that lays around her head
like a dark halo. She is at peace here in their little corner of the universe.
Zuko puts his chin in his hand. She will be leaving soon and knowing this makes
his heart ache. He closes his eyes, recalling the memories of last night - the
way she had looked beneath him, how she had responded to his touch, how utterly
beautiful everything had been. 
He sighs slowly. She will be leaving soon, and he knows without a doubt that,
this time, his heart will be in her hands when she goes.
---------------
It fractures beneath the crystal catacombs.
Zuko stares at the ground beneath his feet. He hasn't felt angry in so long
that he feels a bit sick, yet there it is, creeping through him with a
familiarity that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Azula's face, flawless and
perfect, constantly circles back to the front of his mind. The memory of the
triumphant look in her eyes makes his fingers curl into tight fists. His skin
heats, fire threatening to incinerate everything around it, himself included.
She wasn't here for him, not really, but capturing her traitor brother had been
an added bonus to her impending victories.
He was a fool to think that things were actually changing for the better.
Running from his past had been a mistake.
"Zuko," Katara says, and he closes his eyes. His shoulders slump a bit as she
steps closer to him. He can't bear to look at her right now, can't bear to see
what might be swimming in her expressive eyes.
He doesn't realize she is touching the scarred part of his face until her thumb
settles against the corner of his mouth.
Everything inside of him stills. He doesn't dare move, doesn't open his eyes,
doesn't even breathe. No one has touched that side of his face since it healed.
No one has dared to come close to it. No one but Katara, who has not shied away
from his disfigurement, but respected his boundaries instead. No one but
Katara, who has paid enough attention to him to understand even the smallest
nuances, ones Zuko himself hadn't been aware of before her. No one but Katara,
who stands before him now with her slender fingers on the rigid, rippled,
mottled reminder of his ultimate failure. 
Something deep within Zuko's heart aches. He can feel that part of him cracking
viciously, threatening to break under the weight of his reality settling across
his shoulders once more. The ache begins to spread through him until every bit
of him hurts with a pain that is older than his scar. 
He feels lost suddenly, unsure of anything anymore. The stability he had been
building with Uncle here in Ba Sing Se has been rocked by his sister's
presence. What had they been thinking? Could they have really gotten away with
living the way they were? Trying to do so had been stupid.
The walls around them tremble and cave inward. Katara jerks away, and Zuko
feels the loss of her touch so deeply it feels like she's cut him open with a
knife. The dust clears to reveal the Avatar standing beside Uncle Iroh, who's
round face fills with relief when he spies Zuko.
"Aang!" Katara shouts. The relief in her is palpable as well, and Zuko watches
her run to the boy. She throws her arms around him in a tight embrace, one that
he returns without hesitation. Over her shoulder, gray eyes squint at Zuko, the
suspicion in them clear. The anger within him begins to simmer like lava inside
of a volcano. 
Uncle crosses the space to Zuko and pulls him into a hug that he returns half
heartedly. When he lets go, Uncle watches him for a moment, and Zuko knows that
he is reading everything inside of him like an open book. It makes his skin
prickle.
"Go," Uncle says, "Go find your friends. We'll catch up to you."
Zuko's stomach clenches. He looks away before he can see Katara walking away
with the Avatar - before he can see her leaving him behind.
Katara follows Aang reluctantly. She looks over her shoulder, eyes lingering on
Zuko. He can feel the weight of her gaze, but he refuses to meet it - can't,
lest he crumble to ash. 
Soon they are gone, and his fists tighten. He wants badly to break something,
anything, to burn something to cinders in an effort to relieve the storm
building inside of him. 
"You are not the man you used to be, Zuko," Uncle says, and Zuko's brow furrows
as he looks up. Uncle's gaze is sharp, his eyes bright with knowledge Zuko
cannot hope to understand right now. "You are stronger, and wiser, and more
free than you have ever been. And now you have come to the crossroads of your
destiny." Uncle lifts his chin, and Zuko is suddenly reminded that he is
bloodkin to The Dragon of The West. "It is time for you to choose. It is time
for you to choose good."
Zuko inhales through his nose. The air feels stifling, impossible to breathe
in. He opens his mouth as the ground rumbles again. It is the only warning for
the green crystals that materialize and race forward. Zuko gasps and lunges to
the left, but Uncle is not so quick. The crystals envelope him and trap him in
place, leaving only his hands and his head free. 
The wall opens again, in a much cleaner fashion, this time to reveal two Dai Li
agents. Behind them stands Azula. Her eyes are glowing stones of amber in the
darkness of the tunnel and immediately Zuko knows everything is about to
change.
---------------
It shatters inside of the abandoned city beneath Ba Sing Se.
Adrenaline pumps through Zuko's veins. The elements are erupting around him,
forces of nature barely contained within the great stone walls. He rolls to his
feet and is met with a sight that startles him - Katara has Azula by an arm and
a leg, threatening to slam her into the ground. He's never seen Azula even
remotely matched, and the sight unsettles him. The instinct to protect his
sister propels him forward and  he twists through the air, kicking a line of
fire that splits through the tendrils of water holding his sister captive.
Azula lingers long enough to give her brother an approving smile. And then she
hurries away, removing herself from Katara's reach.
Zuko watches her go with discomfort roiling within his stomach. He defended the
right person - he protected his family. Isn't that why he chose what Azula
offered? To be with his family again? 
Katara whirls to face Zuko, her arms still coated in water. The ache residing
within him throbs at the livid look on her face, the open betrayal in her eyes.
"I thought you had changed!" She yells, and the slight hitch in her voice pains
him.
"I have changed!" He insists. He wonders if everyone else can hear the
desperate note in his voice. He is desperate, desperate to explain to her why
he has done what he has done. She has to understand; she's one of the only two
people who have ever bothered to try to understand him.
Katara inhales and lashes at him with her water, forcing him to deflect with
his fire. This battlefield is one they know well, one they have met on many
times. It will be the only place they meet now, Zuko realizes. He meets each
blow Katara delivers, but there is no real fight in him, not with her. He has
no wish to hurt her. 
Azula's words chase each other around and around in his mind. You will have
your honor back. You will have father's love. You will have everything you
want.
He swallows past the lump in his throat. He's wanted that for so long, but is
it really everything he wants now? Zuko looks across the stones to where his
heart stands. "Katara-" He starts, but she cuts him off with a flurry of ice
daggers. Zuko scrambles to melt them before they embed in his flesh and presses
his lips together. 
He pushes away the thoughts of her smile, her touch, the tenderness that filled
her eyes when she looked at him. He pushes away the memories of her laughter,
the sight of her walking through the door of the tea shop. He pushes away the
sensations of her skin against his, her hands in his hair, her mouth on his. It
doesn't matter now. She won't ever look at him like that again, won't ever
touch him like that again, and he will never be able to explain why he made
this choice. He was a fool to think he could have anything with her; what did
happen must have been a mistake.
The fight continues around them as they regard each other for a moment. Katara
stares at Zuko, brows drawn downward over her large eyes. She shakes her head
slowly, and something bitter rolls through Zuko's stomach. 
And then the ground around him shifts, forcing him to move away, to widen the
distance increasing by the minute between them. Zuko diligently ignores the
ache in his heart as he tears his eyes away from Katara and turns his attention
to the Avatar. He has made his choice, and now he must leave his heart behind.
---------------
The entire world is still as the Avatar falls from the air. Zuko stares in
shock, unable to believe what he's seeing. In all of the time he had spent
chasing the boy around the world, he had never wanted him dead. Yet his body
continues to plummet towards the earth with a sickening speed. Beside Zuko,
Azula radiates triumph, a satisfaction that makes his stomach churn.
Life returns to the cavern with the sound of rushing water. Zuko looks up to
see a massive wave racing across the ground with Katara at the helm - racing to
catch Aang. He inhales, takes a step back, and is swept up in her tide with
everyone around him. Water rushes into his mouth, his nose, his ears, tosses
him about like a rag doll. And just as quickly as it came, it's gone.
Zuko drops to the stone with a harsh thud and coughs up the water in his lungs.
He pushes himself up quickly and looks around, and his heart falls.
Katara kneels before a mass of crystals with the Avatar's lifeless body in her
arms. She looks up, tears streaming down her cheeks, and her gaze locks with
his. Zuko's stomach churns once more, violently this time. He shakes his head
once, opens his mouth to say something, anything - but what can he say? What
could he ever say or do that could fix this horrible, horrible situation?
This is not what he wanted. Not this. Never this. 
Uncle Iroh drops to the ground before Katara, making Zuko jump. He lashes out
immediately at the Dai Li that step towards him, his fire preventing them from
getting any closer. "Go!" He shouts. He turns his head towards Katara but his
gaze remains on the enemies before him. It sickens Zuko to realize that he is
one of those enemies. "You've got to get out of here! I'll hold them off as
long as I can!" 
Katara wastes no time. She frees one hand to twist the water around her into a
geyser that lifts her and the Avatar into the air. Zuko can do nothing but
watch them go. Katara propels them up, up, up until they reach the mouth of the
waterfall and disappear from sight. The geyser begins to weaken, then falls
abruptly. They are gone.
Uncle drops his stance as soon as he hears the water hit the stone. He folds
his hands and bows his head. The Dai Li seize him immediately, locking him
within a chamber of crystals, leaving only his head visible once more. Uncle
lifts his head to look at his nephew once, and the disappointment in his eyes
wrenches at Zuko's soul. Uncle turns his head deliberately and refuses to
acknowledge anyone else in the room.
Silence falls over the ancient city. Zuko looks around at the damage they've
done - at the damage he has done. He lifts his head and looks at the mouth of
the waterfall. Somewhere out there, Katara has taken the Avatar and her friends
far away from this place. He knows that, somehow, the boy won't remain dead for
long, not while he is in Katara's care. But he doesn't say this. His voice is
gone. Instead, Zuko tears his eyes away and follows Azula as she exits the
city. 
He has made his choice, and now he must live with it.
End Notes
     Don't worry, there will absolutely be a second part to this! I've
     never been one to write pure angst or cliffhangers, and I have a lot
     of ideas I'd like to explore in the second piece to this.
     Also, my sincere apologies if the ending felt abrupt and not properly
     fleshed out! I didn't want to go overboard with the details that come
     from canon, like Zuko choosing to go with Azula. I'll do better with
     part two. Thanks so much for reading!
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