Chapter One
Azula's frenzied laughter. . .
The spine-chilling murder in her eyes . . .
A blinding flash. . .
Horrible, agonized screaming. . .
"Zukoooo!"
Katara awoke with a start, thunder sounding all around her, the wind howling like the voices of a distant memory. Her hands shook as she made her way to the window. Cold sweat breaking out on her temples as the roiling sea below consumed her vision from behind the glass, the force of the gale whipping Katara's hair about her face. Her heart lurched in horror of that night, not unlike the angry water several stories below. The night when, if she had not been there . . . If she had been born with no sort of Bending at all . . . tears blurred Katara's vision of the shadowed room around her, salt a potent taste on her lips. Zuko would be dead. Her dear friend, once the most hated of enemies . . . it seemed impossible that tears of sorrow would ever start in her eyes for someone like him. Someone who had once hurt her, once betrayed her just as she'd begun to believe in him as a person. As more than a cold-blooded destroyer of all that was good a light. More than a carrier of the Fire Nation's iron will. But he had proven himself since then. He had helped her in ways that even the one she loved, even Aang, could not follow through with. His beliefs had prevented that. And now, under the most unbelievable circumstances imaginable, they had formed a bond. A friendship. Not unlike the ones she had with Sokka, Toph, Suki, Aang.
"Katara?" a tender, slightly childish voice reached her ears from the darkness, a flash of lightening reaveling the gentle face, the deep brown eyes, the blue arrows so custom of an Airbender.
"Aang." Katara sniffled in the shadows, turning her tear-stained face in his direction, feeling her heart flutter with the caring in his eyes, the way his brows knitted together in concern. He loved her. He cared like no one else. When she was angry, tearful, happy, troubled. Through everything, he was always by her side.
"I heard you crying. . ." he offered by way of explanation, "are you alright?"
She turned back to the window at his question, watching the roiling ocean below, not unlike the confusion of her own heart. Katara didn't know what she was feeling. What this sensation within her could possibly mean. How could she, with all they had been through together? All they had suffered and lost and persevered, to ensure the safety of the world? The beating of rain was the only sound which broke the heavy silence between them, and she sighed, feeling more alone and confused than ever.
"No, you're not. I can always tell, you know. I love you, Katara. Please, let me know what's troubling you." She heard the soft movement of his bare feet across the thin bamboo, felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder.
"I don't know, Aang. . .I just don't know. . ." Katara whispered, so softly she could barely hear it herself. "I'm . . .I've just been thinking. . ."
"About what?" In a sudden movement his hand brushed her face, holding her chin in its warm touch. A blush burned her cheeks like fire.
"About Zuko."
And just as quickly as the hand had arrived there, it vanished, withdrawn into the shadows of Katara's bedroom. She saw the troubled look in Aang's face, his eyes glittering with unshed tears.
"No, Aang, I didn't mean it like that . . . I love you. I always have. I've simply been worried, about something even I cannot place." Inherently Katara clutched at her Mother's necklace, imagining the loving arms holding her tightly, and it gave her the strength to go on. "The war has put us through so much, Aang. . .and. . .And I. . ." Tears burned her eyes once more, flowing down her cheeks and dripping softly from her chin.
"Katara," Aang cut in soothingly, cuddling her head in his hands, "the war is over, I took Ozai's bending away. The world is at peace. It's a new beginning, for everyone." And then he took Katara's hand, pulling her close, her chest pushed gently against his. Aang looked up into her troubled face. "For us."
And then everything went in a blur. Katara melted at the warm, familiar touch of his lips on her own, the sound of his voice whispering a tender 'good night.' But through it all, an underlying sensation drifted in the back of her mind. Something even she herself did not truly understand.
And then she was left alone once more, in the shadowed bedroom of the temple, hearing only the beating of rain on the rooftops. As Katara climbed once more into bed, letting the warmth of the blankets convince her they were Aang's gentle caress, she once again found herself thinking of Zuko.