Katara slid the door open and closed it behind her. The night was surprisingly warm; a light breeze swirled a few loose tendrils of her hair over her face and she was suddenly filled with and an inexplicable tranquillity. After everything that had happened over the past week, tonight seemed to be the first night of total insignificance, and its trivial, unremarkable nature was more relieving that she could have expected. All they had done was laze around the living space. Everyone was bored, but everyone was safe. Sokka had been attempting to plan their next move against the Fire Nation or Zuko and Azula but his efforts had been wasted; none of the others had the energy to want to get involved so he had entertained himself by devising ludicrously complex and fanciful plots to infiltrate the Fire Nation capital. Toph had been contented with playing on the floor with Momo, tossing small stones to him and getting mild pleasure when he mistook them for leechi nuts over and over again. She and Katara had gone down to the marketplace in the evening for ingredients and so Katara had whiled away the few remaining hours of daylight slowly cooking a braised chicken-noodle broth. Aang, of course, was still sleeping. She had gone to check on him earlier in the afternoon but he was still in bed, sleeping and healing, the burn on his back almost obscene, but at least he was breathing. At least he was still here.

Katara brushed her hair over her shoulder and padded down the porch steps onto the cobbled street, swinging the water jug in her hand as she went. The lanterns were lit but it was surprisingly quiet for a Sunday night. Only a few people meandered the side-streets, weaving about the restaurants and closing markets for a hot meal. The whole of Ba Sing Se seemed to be in a somnambulate state of relief – but maybe that was just how she perceived it.

She strolled leisurely down the street, trailing her fingertips lightly along the wooden slatted houses, until she turned down an alleyway that backed a little shaded section of parkland that provided the built-up neighbourhood with some spiritual relief. It was only large enough to fit two benches, one large spruce and a collection of scattered shrubbery that were surprisingly beautiful in bloom.

The tap poking out of the laneway wall was Katara's destination. She stopped there and hooked the mouth of the water jug underneath before whipping around to stare into the shrubbery.

'Who's there?' she demanded, her voice rudely interrupting the sleepy atmosphere.

A skinny grey cat leapt from a low windowsill in fright and scampered around the corner of the alley and out of sight.

But Katara continued to squint into the comparative darkness of the trees, certain that she had felt more than heard the presence of someone close by. Her fingers were flexed at the ready; the tap was just here…

The longer she waited, the more she began to doubt her senses. Perhaps it was just the cat?

Slowly, resentfully, she turned back to the tap and turned on the water, her eyes flicking continuously back to the park. Once the jug was full, the turned off the tap but kept her hand hovering over its open top, just in case. Then, she made her way back down the alley, continuously throwing glances over her shoulder until she was up the porch steps and through the front door of their house.

'Finally, sheesh,' said Sokka theatrically.

He had flopped on the floor on his back, his legs hanging over the arm of the loveseat. One arm was draped over his forehead.

'We were dying of thirst up here,' he complained.

'Descended into the final stages of dehydration in the past five minutes, did you?'

'Just about!'

'Yeah, what took you so long?' demanded Toph from where she sat cross-legged on the mat opposite Momo, who was pawing expectantly at the stone in her fist. 'The tap's just 'round the corner.'

'I don't know,' said Katara slowly. 'It was probably nothing but – I felt like someone was watching me from the park.'

'Someone like who?' asked Sokka curiously, tilting his head to look at her upside-down.

'No one in particular… I dunno, it was probably nothing. Just paranoia from the past few days, I guess.'

'No sign of Zuko or the Lightning-Lady yet?' inquired Toph, though there wasn't much in the question and she wasn't surprised when Katara shook her head.

'They've probably gone home,' said Sokka. 'It's what I would do if I thought I'd finally defeated the Avatar.'

They were having the same conversation they had had earlier that day, and the day before. The problem was they all knew they were probably right, and that left them with little alternative but to wait for Aang to recover and then go on the offensive to the Fire Nation itself: in other words, an impossibly daunting prospect. Katara didn't blame Toph for wanting the enemy to be closer, or more isolated. It's what they would all prefer.

She went over to the kitchen and took three glasses from the cupboard to place on the bench, then coiled three ribbons of clear water from the jug to separate evenly into the cups.

'Here,' she said, handing a glass each to Toph and Sokka.

Toph drank deeply before putting the cup on the floor and tilting it slightly, allowing Momo to eagerly lap up the last quarter.

'Yes!' groaned Sokka, taking a single gulp before handing it back to Katara.

'You're welcome,' she said, with an eyebrow raised. 'Have either of you checked on Aang?'

'He'll just be sleeping,' said Sokka dismissively, lying back down on the floor. 'I dunno why you keep going to check on him, I'm pretty sure we'd know if he woke up.'

'Fine, I'll go check on him.' Katara narrowed her eyes and plonked the glass down on the wooden floor next to Sokka's head. 'You should at least go and feed Appa.'

'Toph, will you go and feed Appa?' Sokka asked lazily.

'Totally!' Toph sprang to her feet. 'I've been dying to get outside all day, this place is so boring! And you're coming with me.'

She stamped forward and grabbed Sokka's wrist and began dragging him towards the door.

'Nooo, no no no I'm comfy here, no Toph please!' he begged, clawing emphatically at the floor.

'A little fresh air would do you good, trust me,' she replied simply, pushing the door open.

Katara rolled her eyes and turned her back on them, heading to the steps that lead to the bedrooms.

She knew Sokka was right: there was no reason for her to keep checking on him, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that made it impossible for her to forget about Aang even for a moment. Every time she lay down to sleep, the image of Azula, her evil grin alight with perceived success, shooting a bolt of lightning at Aang's glowing figure, flashed through her mind's eye and she would wake up under a cold sweat. She was never at ease, never contented by any apparent distraction. All she wanted was for Aang to wake up and be well again and then they could continue hunting Zuko and Azula and she would finally be occupied.

But there was one thing that would distract Katara from thoughts of Aang, and that was Zuko. She hated thinking about it, especially when she realised her mind had wandered back to the memories of the underground prison hold, but she couldn't help it. Every time she closed her eyes she would see his face, the left side burned and disfigured by the weight of a past she longed to ease. They had spoken like equals, like human beings, even confessed fears and secrets to one another, and she could easily recall that feeling of intense compassion that had overwhelmed her at the time when he divulged some of his most personal memories. But no, the told herself firmly, sliding the door open to the room Aang was sleeping in. He had shown his true colours to be the coldest shade of red on earth. He's an evil, heartless man no matter what he said underground; his actions had spoken louder than his words so you can quit it with these thoughts, Katara.

Tentatively, Katara peered around the doorway into Aang's room. He was indeed sleeping, as she had expected, the beige quilt coiled around his waist as he faced away from her. The gruesome red scar in the middle of his back was emblazoned upon Katara's retinas so that no amount of blinking could rid her of it, and, resolved on some sort of action, she entered the room and approached to kneel silently beside him.

He was breathing, slowly and steadily, his face completely blank as he was lost in the realm of peaceful dreaming. His expression was so sweet it was almost sad.

Katara gently pushed his shoulder over, exposing his back more, and swirled a stream of cool water from the jug beside the mat. It covered her hands and began to glow a soft, soothing blue, and she got to work on attempting to heal his wound. She knew it was futile – the scarring was too severe for her limited healing abilities, but she kept trying. Even though all the spirit water had been used, she felt this was better than nothing.

Her thoughts continued to flick between Aang and Zuko, Aang and Zuko, Zuko and Aang. What the hell is wrong with me? she groaned internally, rubbing her eyes with the back of her wrist, but she couldn't help the regret she felt at the fact that Zuko had gone back to the Fire Nation. It seemed like there was so much unfinished business between them – but then again, she wasn't sure if she wanted to talk to him or hurl jagged shards of ice at him for what he had done. Either way, Katara couldn't deny that she greatly desired seeing him again.