EDIT A/N: The prologue has been revamped to fit current canon. Huzzah!

A/N: W00t! Huzzah, I have finally started my very own multi-chaptered Zutara story! Been meaning to do it since I became a Zutarian in August, was going to make Floating Away a Zutara (that story kind of died… Made it a one-shot), and then after that was busy for a while with Engagement Necklace. I'm just going to say it right now: this story might and probably will refer to certain topics covered within The Engagement Necklace; just a warning. I like the kind of connected-ness between my stories and so I'm probably going to add in stuff from Engagement Necklace as well as canon/whatever.

So. Enough A/N. Time for fic.

By the way, it's Pro-Zutara Week for me.

Also, WARNING! Contains spoilers.

Disclaimer: Bryan and Mike own Avatar, not me.

Entente Cordiale

Prologue

When he pulled out the knife and chopped off his ponytail, he did it without hesitation; and when he handed the knife to Iroh, Iroh said nothing and did not question, but followed Zuko's lead. And not for the first time, Zuko felt very appreciative of his uncle. As his uncle cut off the topknot without questioning, Zuko knew this marked the end of a chapter in his life. Something new was coming, something new would happen. But he didn't know what. And he didn't know what was going to happen. So he did the best thing there was to do: he embraced his uncle, and though there were no words spoken, Zuko knew that Iroh understood all that the gesture meant.

After a while they sat in silence, staring out at the stream as it flowed slowly through the riverbed, reflecting the dazzling sunlight of the day. But the sun was setting and the day was dying, and it was all so symbolic; it was like that the old Prince Zuko was dying with the sun and the new just plain Zuko was being born.

At long last, Iroh spoke. "Zuko," he said softly, "Where do you want to go from here?"

And Zuko told Iroh the absolute and honest truth. "I don't know, uncle. I don't know."

"Well," mused his uncle, "We have to go somewhere. Azula will be swift in chasing us down, and we shall be found by the morning if we stay."

Zuko nodded, gathering his pack and slinging it over his shoulder. He followed his uncle as Iroh turned away from the stream, setting a path to nowhere—well, not nowhere really, for all paths led somewhere—but wherever his destination was, it didn't matter. Zuko made to follow Iroh, but something held him back. His eyes tore back to the stream, where Iroh's and his hair had flowed away downstream. It was difficult to leave, to tear himself from the life he was so accustomed to. Leaving the stream would mean abandoning the Fire Nation completely, leaving any hope of the old life behind.

It was as if Iroh read his mind. "Zuko, there never was any hope of going back," he said quietly. Zuko clenched his eyes shot and lowered his head, feeling the last rays of the warm sun fading and giving way to the cool, but oddly pleasant, feeling of the night. It was chilly, but not overly so; spring had come, and now night was not so cold as winter had been. Night was not so bad, Zuko thought.

His eyes snapped open. "I'm ready," he admitted with confidence, and stepped away from the bank of the stream, willing to follow his uncle to even the ends of the earth.

Stealing the ostrich had been as easy as ever. The two had taken the bird and ridden it to the outskirts of a forest, camping out on the edge of the immense tangled mass of trees for about a week or so. Occasionally Zuko would go into a nearby Earth village (with his pointy hat shielding his large scar from sight, of course) and gather what food he could. When Zuko came back with the food, Iroh said nothing. They did not have any money; odds were that the victuals were stolen from various merchants or families.

One day, Zuko didn't come back from the village. Iroh hitched up the ostrich and walked down with it into the small town, searching for Zuko. As the sun was setting, he heard familiar voices, bullying some innocent townspeople in order to extract information. One especially malicious voice set Iroh on edge—it was a voice he hadn't heard in two years.

Katara was lying in a less than comfortable sleeping bag. She shifted around in it, contemplating a many things. She wondered about the Avatar State, and what Avatar Roku was like, and what the Spirit World was like. She asked herself what would happen if Aang were to be killed in the Avatar State, if the hope would be completely lost to Fire forever and ever. She shook the thought off, but it was incredibly disturbing to think about and Katara forced herself to forget her musings. Her thoughts wandered to her father, who was most likely at the rendezvous point with Bato, somewhere in this Nation. Just thinking that sent great pangs of homesickness within her. How long had it been since she'd been home? A full season, almost, about three months, maybe more. But such was the life of the traveler, and Aang needed her now, and she had all that she would ever need.

At least, she tried to tell herself that, but she just couldn't; not now, anyway, when she was alone. Her thoughts would always be hers alone. She could wish for things she couldn't have if she wanted to, so long as she didn't say anything about. And right now, she wanted to be home again, to be near the water. Unfortunately, she wasn't even near the coast; but that was alright, but she could imagine, imagine, imagine…

Sleep came almost immediately as Katara slowly closed her eyes, dreaming of the sea, dreaming of home.

She woke what seemed not a minute later. Someone was shaking her, telling her to get up, asking her what was wrong, saying that she was muttering in her sleep and he was worried about her—

"Aang?" Katara asked sleepily.

"Katara!" he shouted happily. "You were talking in your sleep—something about hating this place and something else about the ocean—and you sounded so—Katara, are you alright?"

Katara didn't answer, but rubbed her eyes. "What are you talking about Aang?" she questioned, confused. His speech had been so broken, as though he was rushed or—

"Katara, I'm—Katara. What's wrong?" the Avatar asked her, his wide gray eyes telling her it was okay to tell him, that he would listen because he cared and he was worried for her and wanted her to be okay, that everything would be okay—and Katara couldn't look into those eyes, because she knew there was love in that gaze, something she now recognized that she had first noticed and even returned in the Cave of Two Lovers. But after that, she knew it wasn't right—she had pointedly avoided being alone with him ever since. That loving gaze—she couldn't deal with it, couldn't break his heart with her indifference or her awful longing to go home.

"Oh, Aang," she said quietly, still avoiding his gaze, "I miss my home and my family."

It was then the tears started to come, tears of frustration and anger and betrayal and hatred and self-hatred and bitter, bitter sadness, everything that she had wished to cry about since her adventure had begun but hadn't so that she would be strong.

Aang, meanwhile, looked positively heartbroken, seeing Katara like that. "But your family is here. Katara, your home is here."

"No, no, no," she said through her tears, turning away from Aang, "I miss the sea. The sea, Aang. The sea." And then she turned back to him, looking into that awful gaze of his that told her he loved her, telling him with her gaze that if he loved her then he should understand. She quite abruptly bolted out of her sleeping bag and encircled her arms around his body, tears streaming down his face. "I love you, Aang," she whispered into his ear, her heart breaking as he gasped in joy, "But just not in the way you think."

She left the him after that, hoping, dearly hoping, that he would understand.

A/N: I know, no Zutara interaction. This was more a prologue/exposition. Besides, romance isn't good if it's rushed, is it? xD