Graceland
By rese
Nickelodeon and bryke own avatar and all the crap that has been dished out to zutarians ever since.
A/N: wow finally completed an avatar piece that I don't absolutely hate. I wanted to make it something that could possibly have happened in canon given the gaang's older happenings are still shrouded mostly in mystery. They're in their twenties I'm guessing. Not sure about my Katara voice, but then hey, first shot.
…
It's cold at night now. The breeze filters in through the halls, the scent of the ocean blowing the curtains out like phantoms, reaching for her skin as she passes. There are enough ghosts in these corridors without the shape of the moon casting those strange shadows.
For once the palace is silent and Katara counts her small mercies on one hand. Two; Mai has gone to the Earth Kingdom for the fourth round of negotiations (where Katara should be right now). Three; Aang has his duty on Whale Tail Island, helping a small village deal with the spirit world after having spent the past twenty years overfishing their corner of the world. And really that's about it. Her expectations and responsibilities could fill a scroll, but her luck? Well that's only three fingers.
She sighs and focuses on the shape of the moon hanging low in the sky. Night has fallen only two hours or so ago – the candle in the dining hall kept time for his court – and the moon swells heavily close to the curve of the earth. She likes this time of night, but time marches on and it pulls the moon higher, shrinking her glory but strengthening the flow of energy in Katara's limbs. It's exciting and familiar all at once. She supposes the feeling reminds her of Zuko, the reason she's come all this way.
Katara falls to a stop in one of the large windows, stretching her hand out to tap the ledge impatiently. He was supposed to be here waiting for her. Typical. She knows logically that something must have come up, and she shouldn't expect the Fire Lord to just drop everything for her, but logic was never her strong suit. She was ruled by emotion from the get go, and that's part of the reason she's here at all.
Sokka would be telling her off right now if he knew. She shakes her head and is glad for once that the gang has gone all gone their own ways. It must be freezing in the Southern Water Tribe already.
Spirits, where is he? Katara's fingers tap a little louder in frustration and she moves to lean against the ledge properly. The light wind feels nice against her face and she smiles despite herself.
And it's then she can feel him watching her. Katara sneaks a look to her right and sees him leaning against the frame of one of the open windows further down the corridor. She allows herself a small, private smile.
"About time."
His head ducks and Zuko steps into the moonlight pouring through the expansive open window. Something in her throat tightens and Katara feels a little embarrassed that even after all this time, he still kind of takes her breath away. It isn't fair how pretty he is. Her lips pull into a wider smirk.
"When did you get here?"
She turns back to the night sky with a small shrug. "A couple of hours ago, I guess. It feels like an age since I've been here." Really it's only been a couple of months, maybe a year. She's pretty sure it was the last fall.
Zuko moves to lean out against the windowsill beside her. The windows are so massive on the eastern wing and there is enough room to leave space between their shoulders. She can't help it. They brush against each other anyway.
"Where were you?" Katara's the only one who's been able to demand answers, she thinks.
He hesitates before turning those golden eyes on her. "With Azula." Guilt and shame fill her immediately for her earlier uncharitable thoughts about his tardiness.
"How is she?" It's a question that barely needs asking it is so routine. Zuko shrugs but there's a weight behind it. There always is.
"She's had a couple of good days. Aang's meditations seem to finally be doing something." He hates relying on things he can't see just as much as his sister but it is her spirit that's wounded after all. Even after all this time, it's only now they're both coming to accept it. For once the mention of Aang doesn't have a ring of impatience to it.
"Good. I'm glad." Katara nods to herself before forcing herself to just do it. She grips his arm firmly with her right hand and squeezes. "Really, Zuko. I'm glad." There's never been any love lost between her and Azula, not even on her best lucid days but Katara cares about Zuko, and he cares about Azula.
His hand slips over hers but he doesn't pull Katara's hand away.
"I didn't think you were coming anymore." His voice is that strange mix of thick and thin and Katara recognises the emotion in it.
"Yeah, you know me. Miss Unpredictable." She's never been good at jokes and Zuko's never been any good at receiving them either. It's touching that his mouth twitches into a wry smile anyway.
"Katara, you have to be the opposite of unpredictable." His thumb is running in a soothing line over her knuckles and there's something about the way he says it that reminds her of Aang. She's the one that pulls away after all.
I love you, she wants to say by way of apology. She doesn't of course. Just lets her hand hang limply by her side, the other playing with the wooden frame of the window.
"Why did you come?" Zuko finally asks and Katara knows she has no answer. None that will justify what she came to do. There's nothing honourable about her deep down and he'll be the only one to know. She's not sure she can handle that.
"I'm pregnant."
It's almost imperceptible, and maybe if she didn't know him better than herself at one point in her life, Katara might have missed all the signs. Zuko stiffens and his one good eyebrow pulls tight towards his scar, but these actions are all so minute. She hates that he spent so much of his life hiding everything about himself just to survive. She hates it mostly because she can't hide anything for the life of her and that just makes her feel worse because she should care less about herself and more about others.
Zuko's silence is deafening and Katara knows she's only a few seconds away from babbling aloud and running her hands through her hair, wishing she still braided it. But they just stand there staring at each other with something terribly akin to horror.
"Aang doesn't know." It's coming; the babbling, rambling over-explanation. "I'm not far along, but far enough. Gran-Gran says it's almost three months and then I'm supposed to start thinking about this seriously and I need to tell him, because we're starting a family, but I'm terrified and I can't stop thinking that what if –" The rest of her words swallow themselves up. Katara can feel her eyes stinging. I can't stop thinking that I love you, she wants to say. I love you, I love you, I love you, she thinks it enough of every day that it should be easy, it should tumble off her lips but suddenly her power – an overflowing power – of speech has dried up and left her standing in front of him gaping for air.
Well this has never happened before. Katara recognises the start of a panic attack. Zuko straightens immediately and captures her shaking hands in his two large, much steadier ones. He doesn't kiss her palms or offer his own declaration of love or admonish her. For the longest while he just keeps staring at her and if she keeps concentrating on the strange colour of his eyes in the blue of the high moon her breathing will even out and she can stop thinking a mile a minute. Her heart is yammering a little softer now but her palms are still sweaty.
She's a waterbender. He's used to her sweaty hands.
"Congratulations," he says at last. The words sounds forced and wrenched from a dark place that whispers he has so much good inside of him – even more than he's now willing to admit – and Katara feels like collapsing. It's just good to hear his voice even if it makes her entire being cringe.
How can you say that? She never asks. "Thanks." She stutters instead.
His face is hovering over hers but she's tired of waiting. These feelings are exhausting her so Katara does what she came here to do. She pulls her hands out of his and wraps them around his neck, pushing onto her toes and kisses him in one swift move.
It feels the same as it did when she was seventeen and this all started. Katara supposes that's ironic or something, because this kiss here? This is the end of them. His arms never hesitate, they wrap around her waist like a vice, as if he could bind her to his form forever. She wouldn't mind.
Zuko's lips are almost always salty and cracked and she loves the feel of them; raspy like his voice, the same taste of home, of the sea, of everything she's ever stood for. She can taste I need you, and I love you – but that's always been there – and Katara promised once a long time ago before she understood true responsibilities and the real finite nature of existence that she would never turn her back on those who needed her help. The idea makes her feel foolish but it reminds her of the time he broke his wrist fishing with Sokka and she made up some dumb reason to spend the night in his bedroom healing.
Healing turned out to involve a lot less water and a lot more kissing.
The memory makes her smile and Katara is so grateful because right now she just feels like crying. That is the worst possible thing for a woman to do in Zuko's arms. She knows from experience, having seen it happen too many times with Azula, once with Ty Lee and, to her chagrin once when Aang had caught them kissing like this after her eighteenth birthday.
He kisses her harder and her wavering smile is soon consumed. His hair is so long now but so much more beautiful than hers (although Zuko will always argue hers is the greatest he's ever seen or touched and there is no convincing him otherwise). Katara threads her greedy fingers through the strands that hang loose at the base of his neck, feeling the sweat and grit of the day under her nails as his tongue makes its way into her mouth.
A part of her wishes Aang would kiss her like this. If for no other reason than it might have made everything easier on everyone. But that's unfair of her, because Katara knows that the biggest problem between them isn't Aang's kiss, it's just her.
Zuko's hands never stay still long and he twists the two of them until her back is against the small space of wall between two windows. He scoops the fabric around her hips, his fingers pressing into the shape of her backside. Spirits, she always forgets how much he likes her butt.
Katara moans as his hips rock into hers, her nails tugging at the ridiculous collar of his robe. It's at that moment she knows he remembers why they're kissing at all and he pulls away to breathe.
"Fuck, sorry." He rubs the heel of his hand into one eye, the other hand propping up his weight as he leans over her, unintentionally trapping her to the wall. Katara lets her fingers slip from his shoulders, already missing his heat.
"No, it's my fault." She shakes her head but feels him watching her with tired, desperate eyes.
"It'll never be us, will it?" It's a night for realisations for Zuko and she wishes she could have stayed in that fantasy with him. Spirits, Katara regrets it more than anything.
He pulls away properly now, straightening his clothes with one firm tug. She can't meet his eyes and he can't even look at her and she knows that's it. Everything they were, they could have been. It's over.
She doesn't dishonour them by saying it could never have happened anyway. She can't offer him assurances or paltry consolations. He doesn't love Mai, not really, but he's always thought she could learn to love Aang if she didn't already. Katara's never been sure of things the way he has. She's only ever had faith in the Avatar, but never enough in Aang. Not when it came to being a them.
"You'd better tell him," Zuko crosses back to the window, leaning out it like before so she can't read his face. He's dismissing her and it hurts more than she imagined.
"I never meant for any of this to happen." It isn't supposed to be an apology or an excuse or some obligatory parting. It's just the truth and Katara has only ever been good at telling him the truth. It's always been bitter.
Zuko turns to look at her over his shoulder. There's a smile on his face that doesn't reach his eyes and she's reminded of the way Azula looks at her, just for a moment. "I know, Katara. Neither did I."
It's probably the cruellest thing he's ever said to her but she can't fault him for it. Not with the Avatar's child growing unseen inside her.
"I love you. Did you know that?" It comes out biting because despite herself, his words do hurt.
He grins again and stands up straight. She thinks he's about to bow to her and stride out of here like everything was a huge mistake, just some folly of the Fire Lord to be forgotten and covered up, but he's better than that. He always has been and she's the one that's always known he was capable of it.
"I do now." He doesn't shame them both by saying it back but he doesn't turn back to the sky either.
Katara swipes at her eyes and he never takes his off her. She walks back down the way she came, the curtains soft against the curve of her ankle as the breeze chills Katara down to the bone. His golden eyes are still watching her when she reaches the end of the hall and steps out into the night.