A/N: This is a follow-up piece to another story I wrote called "Longing." You might want to check that one out first, as this one won't make sense without it! And as always, I don't own Avatar or its characters.
She was beginning to think he wouldn't come.
She sits at a table inside the Jasmine Dragon, swirling the tea in her cup. Her friends have gathered here, as they do every year, to celebrate the end of the war and the new era of peace. Along the back wall, Sokka is piling a plate high with meats from a table positively overflowing with food while he debates with Mai about the merits of various pointy objects. At a nearby table, Toph has challenged Aang to an arm-wrestling match while Ty Lee officiates; she hopes that he was wise enough not to place any bets. Iroh is making the rounds with pots of tea and fussing over the quality of the ginseng. Suki and a group of Kyoshi warriors have taken up a round table in the corner and, based on the hand gestures, appear to be involved in a serious debate. And there are others, of course: almost everyone from their rag-tag team of allies does their best to attend, and they are scattered about the room. If it is anything like years past, in another hour or so the tea will turn to wine and the talk will turn to war stories, which of course have become progressively more unbelievable with the passage of time. It is her favorite event of the year, if only to bask in the din and witness the slow change in her friends as they age. In this moment she is almost happy, but the incompleteness of the room leaves a sour pit in her stomach that can't be ignored.
Iroh startles her when he touches her arm and offers her a refill. She smiles but politely declines. She looks again at the cup in her hands and gives it another swirl, watches as the leaves at the bottom shift and dance. She wonders if Aunt Wu could have predicted all this.
The first time she saw him was in her own home. She sat on the broad, flat stones that formed an arched window in the Southern Air Temple. She focused on the wisps of clouds drifting by, sensing the water in them and yearning for the sea. Through her open door, the muffled and distorted sounds of conversation and objects being shifted echoed up through the stone halls. Preparations for the party to celebrate the betrothal announcement were already in full swing. The celebration had been Aang's idea – she secretly suspected him of wanting to recreate the dance party from years ago, especially after he encouraged the members of the Flamios to reunite to provide entertainment. It had been a month since the announcements and party invitations had been sent, a month since she had looked at the full moon from this window and wondered if she has made the right choice. Though she had initially tried to talk Aang out of the party, his enthusiasm was inescapable, and now she was glad for her acquiescence. She couldn't deny the excitement she felt at seeing her friends arrive throughout the day. Except one. Though the majority of their friends were already here helping with the decorations, representatives from the Fire Nation had yet to appear.
In an hour, the party would begin. She had excused herself from the preparations under the guise of needing to change into something more appropriate. It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.
She climbed out of the window and approached a shelf that leaned against one wall. Her fingers traced absentmindedly along the piles of scrolls, lingering over one with heavy, bone-carved ends. She pulled it out from underneath the others, and carefully unrolled it: a waterbending scroll. Not that one, of course; that one had been lost in their travels during the war. This was a fine reproduction however, given to her by a merchant in the North during one of her visits after the war.
She propped up the scroll and followed the sequences. They were basic forms; they came to her as naturally as breathing by now, but still she persisted until she had completed them all. When finished, she sat on the ground, gazing at the scroll in front of her. Her eyes lingered on the single water whip. Unbidden, images flashed in her mind. A tree against her back. Warm hands around her wrists. The images slowly changed: sand against her back, warm hands fisting in her hair…
A loud noise from somewhere in the temple startled her out of the fantasy. She blinked rapidly and shook her head, clearing the images from her mind. She still needed to get dressed. She looked again at the scroll. So simple, so unambiguous. If only her situation were so simple. If only he were so easy to read.
Just this once she wished he could have refused her, but he showed up after all. From the window of her room she could see the airship approaching in the late afternoon sky. As it docked, a small part of her heart squeezed as he emerged alone, save for a small retinue. She watched as Aang strode out to greet him. She thought it odd now to watch the two men occupy the same reality; one who knew too little and one who knew too much. It was difficult to decide which one was which.
At the party he remained on the periphery. She would catch sight of him conversing with old friends and acquaintances, declining offers of fruit tarts or custard from the roving wait staff but accepting another glass of wine. He had not once sought her out. There were moments, however, when she would catch him watching her – as she danced with Aang; as the two mingled with their guests, arms linked; as a few of the guests made impromptu speeches toasting the happy couple. His face was unreadable in those moments; his eyes would meet hers for a brief moment before turning away.
As the evening wore on, more and more of the guests had gone off to the respective rooms that had been prepared for them at the temple. She lingered until the last of them had gone off to bed, and busied herself with picking up empty plates and wine glasses. Aang had bid her goodnight, but she didn't want to retire just yet. She felt restless, and only partially because the moon was high.
She found him leaning on his forearms against a balcony, staring off into the dark chasm below. A half empty wine glass dangled in one hand. He had removed his heavy robes and crown and let his hair down, and for a brief moment she could picture the boy that used to travel with them. The years had made him taller, his shoulders broader, and his hair longer, but the tension was still around his eyes just as it always had been. Trying to mimic his old Blue Spirit stealth, she crept closer to him until she found herself leaning on the balcony as well.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you've been avoiding me all night."
At first she worried that he hadn't heard her. But then his eyes shifted slightly to look at her out of the corner of his eye before sliding back to the void. "What's left to say?"
"Zuko, come on." She had rehearsed this conversation a thousand times in her head, but suddenly it all seemed wrong and she didn't know where to start. "Listen, I…I just wanted to say that I'm sor—"
"Don't." He held out his hand to silence her. It worked.
She touched his arm at the wrist and lowered it gently. "Don't what?"
"Apologize. There's nothing to forgive."
"Yes there is!" She pushed off from the balcony and began pacing behind him, throwing wild gestures in her wake. "I should have explained myself! I owed you that at least. I still want to explain myself. I go over it again and again in my head – I should have at least sent a letter along with the announcement. Or better yet, I should have told you in person!"
"I don't need your explanations, Katara."
"Well maybe I need to give them. Aang and I, we weren't seeing eye-to-eye – I told you that – but then when I came back, we… I mean we had this long talk and…" She stopped and laughed mirthlessly, shoulders drooping and eyes fixated at the stones under her feet. She ran a hand through her hair. She said it softly, almost as if she were afraid for him to hear. "What am I even saying? That whole night between us never should have happened in the first place."
"What!" He spun to face her fully, wine sloshing out of his glass and splashing onto the stones. "How can you say that? It was your idea! You're the one who came to me! And when we arrived on the island, you invited me to go for a 'swim' in the bay! That was all you!" He jabbed a finger at her to punctuate his last words.
She looked around frantically, trying to recover. "Well…well you kissed me first!" She jabbed a finger in his chest. "The first time we went, that was all your fault! You started it!" She crossed her arms and looked every bit the indignant child.
The corner of his mouth twitched, and he grunted low in his throat before turning back to the blackness. "So it was. But you know what? None of that even matters anymore. You've decided that you'd rather marry someone else."
"That's not fair and you know it, Zuko! And how can you say it doesn't matter? Are you trying to imply that what happened meant nothing to you?"
The moment stretched out as she waited for his response. Smoke curled up from the one hand that clutched the railing. He gulped down what wine remained in his glass before throwing it in a high arc into the darkness. "Don't say that. Don't you ever say that. It meant more to me than you'll ever know. You're the one insisting that it never should have happened. Unlike you, I'm not sorry for any of it. I don't regret it, and I even had hopes that you might return, like you said you would. But then you didn't, and all I got was a messenger hawk for my troubles."
He deflated a bit, and turned to face her, but the hurt and scorn were still present in his eyes. "What do you want me to say, Katara? Maybe I wish things were turning out differently, but you know what? That's not my choice to make. It's yours. And now you've made it." He gave her a level stare.
She didn't know why she persisted. He was right, wasn't he? She had made her choice. But it wasn't like him to retreat. She stepped closer to him and spoke softly. "Where's the Zuko who never gives up? If you had wanted me so badly, why not even try?"
He looked at her with derision. "Try? In case you haven't noticed, you're now engaged to another man. The time for trying is in the past. But even before then, I did try. That kiss? That kiss was a long time in the making. It took everything I had to garner up the courage to do even that much. As for the rest? You did all the trying that I never could, though your motivation baffles me still. Look, I don't blame you, if you just wanted to release some sexual tension before settling down – "
She moved to slap him, but he was faster, grabbing onto her wrists. They remained like this, eyes locked, seething, studying each other.
Against her will, she felt her throat close up and tears threatened at the corners of her eyes. Her voice came out more ragged than she would have liked. "How dare you. How can you say those things to me? Despite what you might think, I take what happened between us very seriously."
"Not seriously enough, apparently."
She wrenched her arms out of his grasp, and balled her fists by her sides. "Dammit Zuko! Why are you acting like this? I thought you had changed!"
"Well I guess you were wrong!"
Echoes of old betrayals reverberated around her heart. Before she could register it, she had moved into a bending posture. He did not respond in kind. Instead, he stood straighter and smoothed the front of his robes. He cleared his throat.
"It's late, and this is getting us nowhere. I don't want to fight you. But you'll have to excuse me for not being excited about your betrothal. I will never be sorry for what took place between us. I won't try to wish it away or pretend that it didn't happen, and I resent that you would suggest otherwise." She tried to interject, but he put his hands up. "You don't owe me anything, Katara. Nothing. You're free to choose whatever you would like, and I will honor that choice because it is yours to make. Just remember, I've always known who you were, and I valued you just as you were. I always will. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be off to bed."
She watched him go, resisting the urge to follow. He was gone by morning.
She writes him a hundred letters over the next few months, few of which she can ever bring herself to send. Bitterness, longing, regret, petulance: none of the emotional themes ever feel quite fair or completely honest. Only the more emotionally neutral missives make the cut and are sent by hawk to the Fire Nation. Of the few she sends, she receives even fewer in return, and these are all short and perfunctory. Where her written emotions are reigned in, his are entirely absent. She wonders if his process is similar to her own: crumpled and rejected letters littering the floor, ink smeared on her hands and face, trying to articulate what needs to be said but questioning each word and phrase. Perhaps he could sympathize with this experience, or perhaps the staccato beat of his letters simply reflects how he now feels toward her. She counts herself lucky to be receiving anything from him after their last exchange. Despite the lack of sentimental content, she collects them all in a box beneath her bed – like love letters in reverse.
The next time she sees him, another season has passed and even in the Fire Nation the temperatures have cooled. Despite her protests, Aang sends her to the islands to represent him at a Fire Nation council meeting regarding the Earth Kingdom colonies while he is off on other business. Aang gives her strange looks as she provides a weak list of excuses about why she shouldn't go, but since she cannot tell him the truth her reasons are flimsy and she acquiesces in the end. She spends most of the trip in a state of moody resentment: resentment at Aang for putting her in this position, resentment at Zuko for being the Fire Lord and thus his required attendance at this meeting, resentment at the world for needing Aang so much that he doesn't have the time to take care of all of this himself. But mostly, she resents herself, and the choices she has made that have lead her here.
At the meeting, she watches him work, watches him listen to others and sees him weighing their opinions in his mind. He does not acknowledge her until it is her turn to speak, and he appears to take her thoughts into equal consideration with the rest. He adjourns the meeting on the premise of needing more time to think on the subject. The council members shuffle out of the room, and then it is only the two of them left, separated by the long distance of the table between them.
He stands and bows to her. "Lady Katara, I'm glad that you were able to attend. Thank you for your input on this matter. Please give my regards to Avatar Aang." With that, he turns to leave.
"Zuko, wait."
He pauses and half turns. She has a thousand things she wants to say, but none of them are appropriate for this time or place. "I – it was good to see you again."
His face crumples a bit, and he offers the ghost of a broken smile. She can't read the expression – hurt, pity, despair, relief – it looks like pieces of each stitched together. His eyes linger with hers a moment longer before he nods once and leaves the room.
She lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding and feels relieved.
At the Air Temple, there are an endless number of tasks to be accomplished, and it is hard work trying to restore it to its former glory. But Aang is still Aang, and when he isn't off fulfilling his duties as the Avatar he insists that they spend time having fun in spite of the work. And they do. They still take time to train together, though they both mastered their elements long ago and there is no enemy to fight. They eat vegetarian meals and laugh together over old memories. At times they even huddle close to watch the sun set over the clouds and valleys. Sometimes, she thinks this life might not be so bad. She thinks she might not mind marrying and settling down here, that she made a good choice. The right choice.
There are times that she almost forgets those days on Ember Island and cool waters and warm hands. Almost.
The last time she sees him is in her home as well, but the one of snow and ice rather than the one of stone and air. Though they married in Kyoshi three years ago, Suki and her brother had not yet performed the formal ceremony traditional to the Southern Water Tribe. As Suki would say, having two little ones at your feet will get in the way of planning almost anything. But eventually they found the time, and invitations had gone out to celebrate both the nuptials as well as formal rites for the newest members of Sokka's growing family.
Katara arrives a few weeks early to help set up the ceremonial space as well as temporary housing for guests. She feels a sense of pride from working with her tribe and helping them prepare for such a joyous event. It has been some time since she has been home, and the presence of water all around her is exhilarating. Her excitement grows as guests and friends trickle in over the next few days.
She sees his ship dock at the edge of the ice – a day ahead of schedule – and she, her father and brother go out to greet him. Despite the number of speeches she has seen him give, she is always surprised at his eloquence in these situations; he may be the Fire Lord now but she can't help but remember him as the boy who stuttered his way to acceptance at the Western Air Temple. The men exchange bows and traditional handshakes before he finally turns to her. She smiles and opens her arms, but he bows formally instead. Her smile falters a bit; she supposes she had been wrong to hope for that kind of reception. But when he stands straight again, he is smiling.
Her father leads him away to show him his sleeping quarters, and no doubt hassle him for information about current politics. She watches them go before she and her brother go back to preparing for the event the next day.
The events themselves are a whirlwind of activity. She is there to celebrate and congratulate her brother and his family, but as the Chief's daughter she also plays the role of hostess. The Southern Water Tribe has expanded, and the turnout for this type of event is enormous. Citizens of Kyoshi are heavily represented, and various dignitaries from other parts of the world are in attendance as well. It's a lot of work and takes a great deal of tact and patience, but this she doesn't mind; she can't deny the pleasure of mingling with her friends and other important people, and she likes the sense of being in charge. But this also means that her attentions are spread thin and she does not see him much except for glimpses across the room or small talk in the presence of others. She quickly abandons any hope she had of catching a moment alone with him. There is a twinge of disappointment in this, but she enjoys herself in spite of it.
It is late by the time she is ready to retire. After the excitement of the day, she is grateful for a moment of peace. The crisp, frigid air of the South feels good in her lungs and as she walks she picks her favorite constellations from the Southern sky. As she makes her way to her own tent, she catches sight of a figure in red off in the distance. From posture alone she can tell that it's him, walking along the rows of tents, apparently trying to remember which one belongs to him. She sends a quick thanks to Yue and takes advantage of the opportunity.
"Zuko!" she jogs to where he stands, and he waits for her. When she finally reaches him she is panting slightly and her breath clouds up between them in the cold. "Zuko. Hey."
"Hey, Katara." He gives her a guarded smile.
She is about to say more, but in that moment the wind rises, causing her to pull her hood up and hug her arms. "We should get out of this cold. Here, my tent is just right over there."
He follows, but reluctantly. She holds the flap of her tent open for him and then secures it behind them. She sees him take in the fact that there is only one sleeping pelt. "Aang… Aang couldn't make it. He really wanted to, he agonized over it, but there was this other thing he had to do. But I guess it's not so bad, I get the tent all to myself now!" She laughs weakly, not even sure what she's laughing at.
He looks unsure. "Katara, look, maybe I should go, it's late, and I'm sure you need some rest after all of the activity today…"
"No! No. Stay. Please."
He looks at her uncertainly before settling in the corner, far away from her sleeping furs. He looks around uncomfortably, waiting for her to speak. She settles a respectable distance from him.
"So…some party, huh?" She groans inwardly. Why is this so difficult?
"Yeah, some party. All that talk of marriage, and children, I – "
"It can be a little overwhelming, can't it?" Her interjection sounds shrill, even to her own ears.
One corner of his mouth quirks up. "…Yes, maybe that's it."
She takes a deep breath. "Look, Zuko, I won't keep you, but I'm glad I ran into you out there. I was just hoping that we could talk for a minute."
His smile disappears. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Well, I've been thinking about that argument we had. At the Air Temple."
He groans and runs a hand over his face. "About that. Katara, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things to you. It was wrong. I had one too many glasses of wine, I know that's not an excuse, but –"
She waves him off. "Thank you for saying so, but I'm not asking for an apology. Like I said, I've thought about it, and I think you had the right to be upset. There's just this one thing that keeps bothering me."
"What is it?"
"Well, when I said that I thought you had changed, and you told me I was wrong. What did you mean by that?"
He sighs. "I know what you must have been thinking. It came out wrong. But it's true." She gives him a look. "No, really, I've thought about this a lot. I was actually thinking about it when you came up to me that night. All those years ago, when I first saw you in the South Pole, and later in in the North and at Ba Sing Se… that wasn't me. Not really. That was the person my father engineered. But at heart, I was always my mother's son. I just forgot it for a while. It took a really long time for me to figure that out, to remember who I was."
She scoots closer to him, so that they are facing each other, knees touching. "That moment" - he reaches for her hand, gently takes it and rests it on his scar, eyes fluttering closed at her touch - "when you chose to show me compassion…that moment reminded me, for one shining second, of who I was before I had spoken up in my father's war meeting."
He releases her hand and opens his eyes, but focuses on his own hands as they fidget in his lap. "I didn't realize it at the time, and I struggled with it a lot. But when I think back, that was a major catalyst; it amplified all of the doubts that I had been trying to push away, things that Uncle Iroh had been trying to tell me for months, things that would come back to bother me after I went back home. It made me remember that I wasn't a bad person. I had done some bad things, to be sure, and I was really angry for a really long time. But that wasn't who I was supposed to be. I know that's how it probably looked to the rest of you: that I was a bad guy who finally saw the light and became good. But deep down, I was always that good guy. It just took your kindness to help remind me of that. No matter what happens, I guess I'll always have you to thank for that – you and Uncle, I suppose. For making sure I didn't change, for challenging me to be better, for making sure that I didn't permanently become the son my father always wanted. I guess that's what I meant when I said that."
She can't respond immediately, as her throat has closed up and her vision blurs. "Zuko, I…I don't know what to say."
He finally looks at her and a shadow of guilt passes over his face before he smiles sadly. He reaches out and swipes at the tear on her cheek with his thumb. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to say anything. What I'm trying to say is that I feel like I'm a better person for knowing you. And that's what I wanted to say that night, only my frustration with the situation got in the way. I still stand by what I said. I don't regret anything that happened on Ember Island. But I do regret the way I acted toward you that night. What it comes down to is that I respect you and I value you, and because of that I respect your choices. That's all."
The tension and fear she's been holding onto evaporates and is replaced by something she has no right to feel. She is about to reply, when his eyes catch sight of the betrothal necklace around her neck. "That's a beautiful stone. Aang did a good job with it. I was never very good at working with my hands."
She reaches out and pulls at one of his hands, bringing it into her lap. He doesn't recoil or resist like she thought he might, and for this she is grateful. She traces the insides of his palm, the veins in his wrist. "You shouldn't say that. Your hands can do incredible things." Before she can think about it, she brings it up to her mouth and kisses it.
She watches him, sees his eyes darken when her lips graze the inside of his wrist. He starts to lean forward, but catches himself. He gently takes his hand back and returns it to his own lap. His brow is furrowed and he won't look at her. "I'm sorry, Katara. We can't. As much as I want to"- he gives her a pointed look- "we just can't."
She looks at the floor. "I know. And I'm sorry too. I don't know what came over me."
"I think I do." And when she looks up at him he is looking right back, with sadness tinting his features, but without judgment or irony.
She nods, and sighs heavily. "I think the wind might have calmed down some. Would you like me to show you to your tent?"
"I would like that." He stands and takes her hand to help her off of the floor. She keeps her fingers entwined with his as she guides him to his sleeping quarters. Once they reach their destination, he lets go and uses his hand to awkwardly rub the back of his neck.
He looks everywhere but at her. "So…"
She doesn't wait for him to finish. On impulse she launches forward and traps him in a fierce hug. He returns it with equal force, which she thinks might make her start crying all over again, but she refrains. Instead, she whispers in his ear. "Thank you. For your honesty."
He pulls back, hands still on her shoulders, and smiles. "Hey, do you think I'd have spent all that time earning your trust just to start lying to you now?"
She smirks and punches him lightly in the shoulder. "You'd better not. Now off to bed."
"Yes, Lady Katara." He ducks inside his tent before she can retaliate.
Even with all of her heavy winter clothing and snow-soaked boots, her steps feel lighter than they have in ages on the way back to her tent.
She doesn't know what makes her tell him. They weren't together then, so it wasn't a matter of admitting infidelity. She knows it has the potential to ruin things, and not just between her and Aang. But the secret of it feels corrosive. Secretly, she hopes that her confession will release her; maybe the truth will break the spell and they can finally move forward together. Maybe then the memories of sand and shore will be just that: memories.
It goes just about how she expected, and worse than she had hoped. There is a great deal of shouting and crying and pleading from both sides. There is anger and sadness and guilt. There are things that are said that are fair, and some things that are said that can never be taken back. Even still, the worst is his utter disbelief and shock - not my Katara, not you, how could he make you do such a thing?- which fills her simultaneously with indignation and shame. It reminds her that she can never be as good as he wants. It reminds her that he might not know her at all.
In the end, she watches his glider snap open and his silhouette grow smaller in the sky. And in this moment she finds herself torn. Aang needs her to be something, to be everything. Needs her to be there for him, needs her to take care of him, needs her to fulfill his wishes of romance, needs her to fill the temple with life again. That need, it pulls on her. It pulls on her own desire to help people, her pride in never turning her back on people who need her. She feels ashamed at the thought of abandoning Aang, the person who needs her the most.
But this other feeling, it pulls on her too, and she realizes belatedly that it's the pull of her own wants and her own needs. The thought at first feels wickedly selfish, and her immediate impulse is to banish it. But if her time with the Avatar has taught her anything, it's that balance in the world is the key to peace. Perhaps it's the key to inner peace as well.
And maybe the comparison is unfair, but Zuko, he doesn't need her, not like that. He doesn't need her to be anything that she isn't already, doesn't expect that she won't have needs or dreams of her own. Aang needs her, but Zuko wants her, and this difference yawns open like a chasm in front of her.
Just as she predicted, she starts hearing the sound of popping corks. It doesn't take long before Sokka is regaling the group with the tale of how he, Suki, and Toph took down a fleet of airships – there must have been a hundred! – on the day of Sozin's Comet. Toph punches him in the arm from time to time to remind him how none of it would have been possible without her "totally awesome" metalbending skills. She sits across the table from Aang, who laughs with abandon at the exchange. He catches her eye and smiles at her; she can't help but smile back as she holds his gaze. These moments, they give her hope, each one works to heal inflicted wounds. But just like her healing talents, the most serious of injuries always leave a scar, and scars can't be healed, not really. The work to build what was between them will be slow, and it will never be quite the same as it was. Their friends are too kind or polite ask about the empty column of her throat, though they all know what it means. She turns back to the story – airship slice! –and is so engrossed that she doesn't notice someone else take up a seat at her table.
"Not this again. By this time next year he'll be telling everyone how he took out the Fire Lord single-handedly."
Her head whips around, and there he is, smiling at Aang while the two exchange bows. "Zuko! I was worried that you might not make it." She stands to give him a brief hug before sitting back down.
He shrugs. "Some delays as usual, but come on, you didn't really think I would miss all this, did you?" He gestures toward Sokka's dramatic reenactment of losing his boomerang and space sword.
She laughs before turning her attention back to her brother. She watches him bow ridiculously at the applause he receives at the end of his tale. As he takes his seat, the crowd looks around for a new storyteller, and eventually they goad Aang into telling the epic tale of how he defeated Ozai.
As Aang makes his way to the front to regale the crowd, she notices that Zuko has made his way outside. She follows him out onto the wide balcony of the Jasmine Dragon. The city sprawls out in front of them; the late afternoon sunlight turns the landscape to gold. They both lean their elbows on the balcony railing and spend a moment in silence just enjoying the view.
She has a feeling she knows why he wouldn't want to hear this story, but she doesn't ask.
It occurs to her that in the many years they've gathered here, he's never shared his story from the day of Sozin's Comet, and neither has she. She gently elbows him. "Hey, maybe you should go next. I'm sure the crowd would love to hear your tale of beating Azula."
He snorts at this and turns to face her. "What's there to tell? I fought her, I got hit with lightening, and you came in and took her out. Maybe you're the one who should be telling it, you're the real hero of the story."
"Well, that's almost the truth." Her gaze flicks to his chest, where she knows he bears a significant scar under his clothes. "I might have defeated Azula, but the real hero in that story is you. You saved my life."
His gaze drops, and he gives her a small shrug and an almost bashful smile. "Yeah, I guess so."
She taps her chin with a finger and rolls her eyes up to the sky. "You know, I don't think I ever properly thanked you for that."
"Oh? But I thought –"
She cuts him off with a kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck, and after a moment his hands are in her hair, pulling her in closer. Right there on the balcony, with the setting sun and Ba Sing Se stretched out for miles behind them. Right there on the balcony, where any of their friends could see. And it feels right. It feels free.
And maybe it isn't love, not yet. And maybe it won't last. But she has to know. She has to try. For them.
For her.
A/N: What can I say, I'm sensitive to reviews. For "Longing", I got really positive responses, but a few people had commented that they were pretty upset at Katara and might have been a little baffled by her behavior. This prompted me to want to write a parallel piece from Katara's POV. I struggled trying to make it work, but in the end I'm generally happy with it. It's not perfect, but I had to let go and finally just post it so I can move on to other stuff!
I struggled, because I was originally going to keep it canon-compliant, but the glory of Zutara got the best of me. (This is why I posted them separately instead of putting this as a second chapter – "Longing" gives that in-between-the-scenes feeling and stays canon-compliant, while this continuation gives a little more development but strays off the canon-path. You can have one or both, and who doesn't like options! Actually, I guess it still could be canon-compliant, maybe it lasts and maybe it doesn't, maybe she stays with Zuko or maybe it doesn't work out and she and Aang work things out. Who knows! Choose your own adventure here, folks!) I tried to parallel the structure of the last story, and included nods to all of our favorite Zutara moments: the waterbending scroll, the cave, the final Agni Kai. Also, I'm going to let this count for my (super late) "seasons" entry for Zutara week. I imagine that this takes place over the course of a year: the original Ember Island event and party take place in the fall, the Fire Nation meeting takes place in winter, the South Pole events take place in the spring, and the Jasmine Dragon scene takes place in the late summer. Anyway, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it, and as always, reviews are always welcome!