Disclaimer: Don't own ATLA at all.
A/N: This is just another one-shot that takes place during the time the Gaang spent at the Western Air Temple (I've written a lot of those). I've read several fics where Zuko spills his scar story to Katara and she instantly forgives him and/or cries a lot, and I thought that yes, Katara would sympathize with his story, but I don't think that at this point in their relationship she would be particularly inclined to listen to him. The last time he told her a sob story he betrayed her and it nearly cost Aang his life. So this is my take on that kind of fic, and I'm eager to hear what you think. This is also from Zuko's perspective, just to mix things up a bit.
Anger is just love left out, gone to vinegar
Maybe he didn't deserve her forgiveness or respect (yet) and talking to her was like conversing with a surly komodo rhino— he knew he'd get attacked at some point, but it was always when he least expected it—but that didn't stop him from making an effort in winning her over.
He had tried several different tactics, techniques for lessening the unadulterated distrust and resentment radiating from the uncannily gifted peasant.
He tried stoically ignoring her:
"Listen, Zuko," she accosted him one night after everyone else had gone to sleep. "I don't know what you're up to, but the next time I catch you so much as looking at Aang funny I'll bend the dishwater down your throat and freeze it there."
He tried unfailing politeness:
"You think you're so much better than us, don't you?" she accused after he thanked her for dinner one night. Never mind that about half of the group had done the same (it was clear that some, most notably her own brother, had begun to take her for granted). "Well you're hardly a prince anymore, so don't expect me to bow to you any time soon." The stew in his bowl sloshed unnaturally, staining his tunic with the salty broth.
He tried earnest helpfulness:
"I don't need you to start the fire," she seethed. "I don't need you to chop vegetables or clean dishes or wash clothes. I don't need your sparring advice or your apologies or your stupid swords, and soon enough Aang won't even need you to teach him firebending so just leave us alone!"
After that he kept to himself, only speaking when spoken to and, except for teaching Aang, trained by himself. It reminded him of living at the palace, after his mother had left he had no one except for Iroh and back then he was too angry and hurt to realize just what that meant. But not even Iroh could help him here, and he was not so sure that if his wise old uncle did show up he would be able to change the waterbender's attitude.
The others, particularly the Avatar, were still friendly, perhaps more so in order to make up for Katara's animosity and Zuko appreciated it, though he still felt like an outsider.
A few days after Katara's latest outburst, the fire prince inadvertently eavesdropped on a conversation (argument) between the waterbender and the Avatar.
"Katara, I really think you're being unfair." The Avatar's voice issued from down the hall, his reprimanding tone at odds with his boyish voice.
"I'm being unfair?" The waterbender's voice had raised an octave in disbelief at her companion's accusation. "I'm just looking out for everyone; you know Zuko can't be trusted."
"You say that, but he hasn't done anything wrong," Aang said.
"Not yet," Katara cut in viciously. "This is exactly what he does! He draws you in with some stupid story about his mother and then betrays you—betrays everyone."
"But he hasn't," Aang replied. "And anyway don't you think if he was planning to capture me again he would've done it when we were alone on the way to see the dragons?"
"He's just biding his time," the girl said. "He's waiting until he has everyone where he wants them, but I won't be fooled. Not again."
"Katara, please," Aang said. "Give him a second chance."
"He's already on his third."
Zuko flung himself into a dark alcove as he heard angry footsteps approaching. Katara huffed past his hiding place, her long brown hair swishing violently with every step. Zuko could feel her irritation radiating from her, hot as his breath of fire.
Dinner was lousy that night and though only three people knew why, no one was brave (or stupid) enough to ask Katara why the fish was charred and the rice crunchy. They all went to bed hungry, and no one dared complain.
In the morning, Zuko dutifully rose and woke Aang at dawn's first light; they made their way to the courtyard for meditation and training, the older boy in front, the younger lagging behind.
Zuko turned around to tell his student to hurry up, he was wasting precious daylight, but Aang spoke first.
"I'm sorry, Zuko," he said, sincerely and kindly.
"For what?" the firebender asked. Had he not been practicing as diligently as he should?
"For how people are treating you… well, how Katara's treating you." Aang rubbed his neck in embarrassment. "She's usually really nice and helpful and it's not like her to act this way."
Zuko sighed. "It's fine, Aang."
"No, it's not," the airbender replied. "If you could just see—"
"I know," Zuko said. "I know she's a good person. She's just looking out for you."
"But she doesn't need to; I'm the Avatar!" Aang cried sullenly. "If I trust you, so should she."
"She has her reasons, Aang," Zuko told him, his voice much quieter than his student's.
Aang crossed his arms, impatience making him tense. "Well what are they? She keeps talking about Ba Sing Se, but she won't tell me what happened. She won't tell me why you were—why she thought you would help us."
Zuko hesitated, unsure if he should tell Aang the details of his and Katara's conversation during their imprisonment. But if she hadn't told him yet… No, it was best to let her explain, let her explain why she had been so kind, so willing to help an enemy with a scarred face.
"The sun's risen," Zuko said. "Time to meditate."
Aang groaned, but obliged, and they spent the next hour in silence.
The smell of breakfast roused them from their meditations; as soon as Zuko nodded his assent, Aang dashed off to eat.
Zuko was hesitant to follow; sure, he was hungry, but also in no mood to argue with Katara over any remotely unpleasant gesture she witnessed him making. Starve, or get yelled at. Zuko was leaning towards the former.
"Why didn't you tell him?"
Zuko started, pivoting around with a ball of flame ignited in his hand before he realized who had spoken.
"Katara?" He quickly snuffed the flame, positive that she would misconstrue it as an act of intentional violence toward her.
She ignored it instead. "I thought for sure you would." She stepped closer, emerging from the shadows from in which she must have been watching.
"How long have you been there?" Zuko asked, perturbed at the thought that she had been there the entire meditation hour.
She shrugged. "Just long enough to hear your conversation, then I left to make breakfast. I didn't want to intrude on your special meditation time."
Zuko barely managed to hold in his derisive snort. "I appreciate your consideration." He turned, headed for the courtyard where breakfast was usually served.
"Where are you going?" He didn't turn back to look at her, but he could tell by her tone of voice that she was glaring at him, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"To eat," he replied evenly. "I'm hungry."
"You didn't answer my question," she said.
He sighed softly and turned. Her glare was firmly in place. "Why haven't you told him?"
At least she had the decency to look as if she had been caught telling a particularly large lie. "It's—that's none of your business!" she hissed.
"Then my reasons are none of yours," Zuko said. He made to walk away again, but her hand gripped his arm and stopped him.
"If you told him then… then he would know." She looked up at him, her eyes so stunningly blue and full of ferocity only reserved for him.
"Yes, he would," the firebender replied drolly. Is she really this stupid? He felt for a moment as if he were talking to his uncle again, a man who often said ridiculous things in order to prove a point. But Katara was a far cry from his uncle, and if it took her stating the obvious in order to work though a simple a problem then so be it.
"I mean, he would know."
He stared at her, trying to discern what meaning lay behind her simple words and ferocious eyes. Was it desperation? "What are you trying to say, Katara?" he asked, his frustration mounting.
"He would know what I wanted to give you!" she cried.
"What?" If possible the fire prince had just become even more confused.
"He would know," she began, taking a deep breath. "He would know what I was going to do for you and he… he wouldn't understand."
Zuko's heart dropped into his stomach as he realized just what Katara was trying to articulate. He wouldn't understand… No, he wouldn't. And Zuko didn't need another person hating him too.
"Katara…" he started, unsure of how to continue. It didn't matter, she finished for him.
"So keep your mouth shut," she said.
He didn't want her to leave, not yet, not when it felt like they were so close to having a real conversation, not just a one-sided screaming match. He cast around for something to say, something to make her open up a little more, maybe hate him a little less…
"Do you want to know how I got my scar?"
"No," she spat, walking away. Her anger, her viciousness was back again, so strong he thought he could taste it in the wake she left as she stalked across the temple.
It was his mistake for asking; it was her fault for leaving, for being a complete and total unrelenting bitch, but it was so hard to hate her.
A/N: Thoughts, comments, questions, concerns? Please do tell by hitting the review button!