Authors Note: This is a Zutara fiction inspired by my Milly/Sagi piece for Baten Kaitos: Origins. I've never done an Avatar fiction before, so hopefully it will turn out all right. I'm also a little behind with the episodes, so if anything seems slightly AU or OOC, please excuse it. I guess it would take place after Iroh and Zuko join the party.
Summary: Zuko/Katara. Zuko averted his golden gaze, fully aware of what she was referring to. "You will never heal this wound."
Disclaimer: If I owned Avatar: The Last Airbender, it would focus on a Zutara relationship and some Taang for added flavour. Therefore, I clearly own nothing (not even an action figure of our favourite scarred prince!)
That night was quiet.
The forest was still and cool. The moon's light did not penetrate its silver rays through the canopy of the still, inky black leaves. No breeze flowed stealthily through the dense foliage, determined to curl around the sleeping forms of the grove. No animal broke the silence of the night by jumping from branch to branch or scrambling through the leaves on the forest floor. Everything seemed calm, unaffected and untouched by pain or war or sorrow. It was a perfect, peaceful place.
It was a place of quiet reflection.
The dying embers of the campfire gave off a dismal glow that left the far reaches of the campsite lie in suspicious shadows. Appa the bison lay quietly by the tree line on his gigantic side, his eyes closed and snoring gently. Curled up against his warm, creamy fur was Sokka (who was also snoring softly) and Aang, a small smile on his lips. He was having good dreams, it seemed.
The Blind Bandit curled up alone. She was totally comfortable on the forest floor. Perhaps it gave her a sense of security to be closest to the most stable thing she knew, the one thing that would always be there. She and all the others slept peacefully and undisturbed. Katara wished she could do the same. She wished she could lie down, close her eyes, and let sleep take her away. Sleep eluded her though and so there she sat, in front of the dying fire. She had her legs pulled up against her body and her arms wrapped around her knees. Her cerulean eyes gazed into nothingness.
With a quick shake of her head, Katara glanced around the camp as if fearful that someone would wake and see her sitting there. Not that they could really do anything if they did see her. Yet all was quiet. Even Uncle Iroh was sleeping soundly a little distance away. Katara sighed dejectedly. She wanted to sleep. Being awake at night was when her deepest, most secret thoughts and feelings came to the surface.
It was safer if they remained buried in her heart, forgotten and denied.
Easy as it was to be around Uncle Iroh, Katara could not say the same about his nephew. It came to her then that he wasn't even there. No! She wouldn't wonder! She wouldn't let herself wonder! She couldn't! The thoughts, the feelings…they all surfaced so quickly, so forcefully that she didn't have the energy to push them down or deny them in any way. So long as they were hers, so long as they were always secret…then maybe she could let them rise when she was alone.
Katara didn't know if what she felt for the young prince was a good thing or a bad thing. She wasn't completely unused to having romantic feelings for a man (or they for her, although she doubted Zuko felt anything of the sort towards her!) but this was different. Every other time, those feelings died away. She didn't push them away, she didn't deny them. No, they simply withered away. But what she felt for the prince…it was different. It didn't just start and then die away in a day (or a week, a month) like their campfire. Small things he did and said everyday fanned these feelings into something more.
While she pretended towards the others that she felt little more than companionship, maybe even an odd sort of friendship, towards the prince, she had long since given up pretending to herself that she felt nothing for him, that it was just a passing infatuation. If that had been the case, surely she wouldn't think of him whenever she saw something that even vaguely reminded her of his tense stance. Sometimes, she would hear something in passing by a person in town, or even someone in their little "family" that made her think of the way his voice sounded, or how those words would sound if Zuko said them.
Many things reminded her of her chosen prince. The prince who would never be hers. She knew only a little bit about Zuko from the few things he let slip, the small things Uncle Iroh mentioned, and the abounding rumors that came to rest in Katara's ears. She never asked Zuko anything about himself; when it came to Zuko, she suddenly felt awkward, shy, and bumbling. She hated prying into anyone's life when they clearly didn't want to talk about it (and despite how much she might want to get to know someone, she refused to pry if they were adamantly against sharing). If she were in his place, she knew she wouldn't want anyone asking her nosey questions either.
Katara felt miserable that she knew nothing at all about Zuko.
A twig snapped behind her. "You're still up?" Zuko's voice was a mix of surprise and coolness. Taking a seat across from her, Zuko unbuckled his sword belt and gently set it aside, visibly relaxing in front of the glowing embers. Katara had never seen him relax in front of her before. Abruptly, Katara realized her was watching her curiously, waiting for an answer.
She noticed a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead. In fact, his light peasant shirt and breeches seemed damp too. Katara assumed (correctly) that he had been Firebending in a secluded area far beyond the campsite. He never practiced against her Water, Aang's Air, or Toph's Earth. He never even practiced against his uncle. He was always alone. "Yes," Katara replied steadily, "I couldn't sleep. Is that so surprising?"
Zuko shrugged slightly. "I just thought that your brother would have set and enforced a bedtime for you."
Katara's lips twitched partly in irritation, partly in amusement. "I can take care of myself."
"I never said that you couldn't," Zuko pointed out coolly as he lazily ran a hand through his short hair. His golden eyes glinted in the dying firelight. "Your fool of a brother just seems like the type to do something like that."
Katara shrugged. "Maybe so…" She paused, desperately searching for something to say. It was rare for her to ever have a chance to talk with him like this and even rarer for him to even consent to speak with her, much less civilly. "Why don't you ever Bend with the others?" she blurted out. Katara mentally slapped herself. A personal subject with him (she was certain of that) and that one question probably ruined all of her chances of getting to know him.
Surprisingly, Zuko only regarded her without comment. With a glance towards Uncle Iroh, he answers her slowly. "It is awkward. I proved myself to be untrustworthy too many times to be welcome among them. They would think I meant harm even though I threw in my lot with yours. If you fail, I fail." He grimaced at the words with a bitter edge in his voice. "But did any of you realize that? Heh. I thought not."
"So you avoid us so that we will not take things wrongly and cast you aside? Is that it?" Katara asked (she tried to not make it sound like a demand). She gazed at him intently, hoping he would answer.
"Why do you care?" he asked suddenly. Katara had the sudden feeling he wasn't simply referring to her question. His eyes glowed with barely suppressed anger, maybe even a little fear. "I don't understand! Why do you care?"
Zuko's voice had risen, and Katara heard Sokka shift behind her, but no one awoke. She opened her mouth to speak but Zuko wasn't finished. "When I first allied myself with you, you offered to heal even the wounds I had received in the skirmish. After that, you even offered to help repair my torn clothes, and to Bend with me! Just yesterday you asked with I wanted anything particular for dinner." Zuko glared around the camp to ensure that no one had woken. "Why do you care?"
Katara bit her lip. So much pain, so much fear was laced into his words. Did he fear that he would be hurt by them? Had he become so used to pain that as he saw the comfortable, loving way in which their little "family" interacted with each other he feared that he would be rejected if he tried to engage in it? "You are a part of us," she informed him like a queen on her throne. "You have as much say in anything as anyone else. You are entitled to requesting what you want to eat not meekly consuming whatever is made. While sometimes it might be difficult for all of us…you are a part of us. And," she grinned, "I must confess, there's something I like about you. You're unique. You're an enigma, a puzzle. You keep to yourself and hardly ever interact with anyone except your uncle. That's partly why I care." She couldn't tell him the full truth.
"That doesn't explain the wounds," Zuko said in a frustrated tone. "I had just allied myself with you. You know hardly anything about me now and even less then! How could you just turn and offer your help to someone like me as though we had been allies for years? I was hunting you! I had nearly killed you on several occasions! And yet…"
"People deserve chances," Katara said simply. "I've always believed that. Precisely because I didn't know you was why I took a chance—gave you a chance—and offered my help. But…" Katara looked at him straight in the eyes and hoped her voice was steady, "There is one wound I did not heal."
Zuko averted his golden gaze, fully aware of what she was referring to. "You will never heal this wound."
"I'm sure I can. You do want it gone, don't you?"
Zuko didn't answer her for a moment. "No," he replied harshly "You will never heal this wound."
"I…don't understand. Why not?" Katara was confident in her skills as a healer. She was certain she could get rid of that scar, the one he never spoke of. Even without knowing the story behind it, she knew it was the physical representation of some terrible wrong, some terrible hurt that was done to Zuko. It was always there, always reminding him of what he was…or what he was not. That one scar encompassed all that he hated and all that he desired. She was sure he would be happier with it gone. With that scar gone, perhaps he could move on past his fears of being accepted.
"It is a part of me," Zuko said simply, honestly. "With or without it, nothing will change. I'll still be the banished prince, the unloved son, the hunter. I'll still be different from everyone else, alone and unwanted. So I will keep my scar as a reminder that I cannot run away. Erasing this scar would only be a sad and failed attempt to allow me to run away from everything. I won't ever run from a challenge."
Katara saw the truth in his words. She would never in a thousand years have come up with that same explanation. She grinned. "If that is how you feel…stop running from us. We are you family now. Stop running away from us. Let us accept you. Let us embrace you."
Zuko stared at her. "Who could accept me? Who would embrace me?"
Katara came and knelt beside him. He didn't flinch, didn't move away. He watched her warily. "I can accept you. I will embrace you." So she did. Fiercely, impulsively, Katara threw her slim arms around the stunned prince. "I'm not the only one who will do these things either. You uncle has accepted you. Aang has accepted you. The others all will too if you give them that chance."
Zuko's arms slid around Katara, slowly and uncertainly.