Your Crooked Grin

Barely aware that she was doing it, a solitary girl wandered to the edge of a cragged cliff that spread wide before her. Flaps of her clothing were caught in the wind and violently snapped in the night air. Blades of grass and reeds hung over the side as the wind blew over them toward the void beyond. The girl felt the heavy sweeping of the wind at her back and came to realize that the time had come for sleep. But with the wind stirring her mind with its sheer forcefulness, she came awake to the fact that she was not at all tired.

Mom and dad would tell her when she was a child when she had to go to bed. Someone else was in control then. A lifetime ago.

Her companion scuttled around constantly, willing to start fires, collect food, find good shelter, all without complaint. He was also going to help her take revenge on the man who had taken her family from her.

They spoke to one another about the weather, the repairing of her sandal, a likely place to sleep that night, what they should do with the body. Assassination came up, and her voice was hushed. His was toneless. Sometimes he would smile at her discomfort. She felt like a child being told to go to bed. Her teeth clenched, and she wondered how many swords he'd drawn, and how many nightmares she'd have after all of this was over, because she would still be thinking about that.

She was certain that the speeding up of her heartbeat was all in her head as she heard him approach her. There was surely nothing to fear.

"Are you going to rest?" he asked. He stood next to her and looked over the cliff. "Katara?"

He didn't sound concerned, bored, calm, amused, tired, anything. Flat as the horizon. Zuko.

"No," Katara told him. "Not for a while." She became defiant, expecting protest. Hoping for it. "I'm not tired." She turned her head sharply towards him.

He nodded, stretched his arms above his head, put them to his side and did an about face as he went back to camp. A second later, still turned away, he said, "I have to go to a city in the Fire Nation tomorrow. I'll need to get us some weapons and supplies, and try to gain some more information on our target. I'll be gone a couple of days. If I need to send a message to you, I'll have one sent here. You should lay low with Appa."

Trying to believe this non-chalance was not meant to be dismissive, she considered what he had said.

He went on. "I can't chance bringing you."

She turned towards him, saying, "All right."

She heard the grass swish at his feet as he moved away from her. The cliff gaped at her in the light of the crescent moon. She let the wind pass over her to fuel the defiant energy she felt.

Some time later, she went back to their camp and entered their tent. Hunched over, she looked around as well as she could in the dark for where to put her hand, then her knee, at an awkward angle on top of a blanket, then the other hand. He was on his back, head turned away. Careful not to touch him or any of his bedclothes the same way she'd avoid the slicker areas of ice on a path in the village where she'd once lived, she sat down and tried to get comfortable for the long night ahead. She could hear his breathing, and tried to commit how it sounded to memory, breaking up the stillness of the dark night. She could remember it when she would be alone.

--

She stirred, and found he was gone already. He had left in the night on foot.

He was capable and resourceful. He had said just a couple of days.

She hummed to herself too loud in a manic, out-of-tune noise since no one was around to hear her being so ridiculous. The day's mindless chores were going to keep her busy - the gathering of dry wood, caring for Appa, fixing any problems with their tent. She walked the path created by small animals down to the lake below the cliff to collect enough water for the day. Little green and black insects jumped out of her way. A bird flew overhead, crying out over the treetops, and it made her remember that he said he would send messages. She could only hope her chores didn't take her too far away so that she missed it. He might send something really important like "In jail, but food is good, you're on your own now, I guess" or "Taking the scenic route. Hoping to be back before big destructive comet comes."

If he did send something, what would it possibly be? What would make him have to send a message instead of just returning? She wondered what he knew that she didn't. Or what he didn't know at all. For one thing, their first attempted ambush on her mother's killer had gone awry, despite his planning. It had been the wrong man, and it had been difficult to relent, even though he was innocent. She'd been ready for the vindication and the justice that she'd been so close to. There'd been no hesitation in her mind.

After that fiasco, Zuko kept going over it as a way of practicing for the real thing. At first she'd been proud that he was impressed with her focus and performance during that first fruitless attack.

Now, every time she remembered it, her stomach clenched in dread and she wanted to cry out, put her face in her hands, as if she could extract the thought of it from her mind. Could she actually ever go back to the living family members and her friends after killing a person out of rage? Zuko could be standing before her now, and he would just nod. Of course she could. That was why they were there, wasn't it? Did his shrugging approval make it fine to carry out her revenge? Does a convict take comfort in insisting on her innocence, even after she finds that all of the inmates claim they're innocent too?

Her friend, the Avatar, would see her differently when she carried it out. He was still such a young boy, in many ways, and if she had let him down that much she wasn't sure their friendship would recover. That was not the Katara he knew.

What was there to be done now? There was no going back. It had to be carried out. It was only the right thing. Anyone would say the same. Avatars had killed to achieve their wants. They were supposed to be the light of reason, of balance. She had no choice in it, in some ways. It was so much easier to think that way: The universe stood in agreement, and rushed her toward her kill.

She reached her hand out to the lake before her and brought out some of the water, forming it into a thin sheet. It served as a mirror, and she observed herself. She tried to smile. It wasn't recognizable. Her skin was deeply tanned from being outdoors for so long, moving around without a home. Her neck was dirty, and below her eyes were dusky circles. It exhausted her to look at herself. Thunder cracked from far away.

The water lost its form and fell back down. She found her fists were clenched. The water and sand leeched between her toes, and it felt like she was being dragged under with every movement of the water being driven toward the beach by the wind. There was hardly any feeling like it, that she knew of: confusion over not wanting Zuko back but needing him to be there if she wanted to carry out her mission, insomnia that she welcomed, and the furious chaos of the storm coming nearer and nearer. She turned and found her way back to camp before the clouds burst.

Without Zuko, she knew, there was little chance of moving on. The rain began as she reached shelter. She recoiled from the shock of lightning and the responding thunder, but couldn't resist the fascination she felt while watching it light up the fabric of her tent.

--

It had been three days. Zuko had not returned. He had sent one message, brought to her by a bird. It had been only the Water Tribe symbol for 'all clear' on it. He had probably learned that from her, or her brother, and he knew that if someone in the Fire Nation intercepted it, they would probably not know what it meant.

Capable and resourceful. Clever, too.

She began to hope for more word from Zuko, not wanting to leave camp in case she missed another message on the wing. Her eyes grew so tired with staring at the bright, sunlit sky that she forced herself to enter her tent so she could no longer watch. Another day, shakily, she went to high ground to watch for him, searching the landscape for a moving dot, walking back to her. Any movement was a glad, hopeful sign she didn't want to see. Gathering food, one branch of a tree had a piece of rotting fruit on it, and on the same branch was a perfect piece. She passed them both by.

--

On the fourth day, Zuko reappeared. He was in the tent with her, asleep. It stunned her for a moment to see him there. Once as a child, her brother had hurled a snow ball at her in fun that he hadn't known had some rock in it. It had stung her flesh and shocked her at the sudden biting pain. Her head had ached with it.

Zuko slept the entire day, and as evening fell he walked out of the tent wrapped in a blanket. He sat at the fire and studied it. She studied him, trying to see if he'd been hurt while he was gone or if he seemed different. She saw nothing had changed. One of his arms was bare, sticking out of the blanket to keep it closed. He was gaunt, but his arms and the rest of his body retained the impression of hewn tools that only served as a mechanism for him to perform the spectacular fighting skill she had seen him exhibit. His body worked as a carefully crafted flint that created fire from air, that could blister and burn anything he directed its power toward. Her own power could heal as well as hurt, but his could only destroy, from what she had seen. It ate what it wanted, then spat out embers and ashes that could only be buried. It made him and the rest of the Fire Nation seem inhuman to her, an unnatural monster.

"You're back," she told him. The sound of her voice was like pebbles falling down a cliffside.

"Took longer than I said," he agreed. "I saw Appa when I arrived. He's doing well. Is there anything to eat?" He started to get up, but with a wave she made him sit.

"There's plenty." She took him some food and water, and between gulps, he explained how he knew where they were going now, and that next to the tent was a bag of useful equipment they'd need. There was a picture in her head of a predator playing with its pretty prey before devouring it. She got the bag and towed it to the fire with her.

On the ground, she laid out new weapons (which she quickly laid to the side without much of a glance), a stone for sharpening them, clothing for her that she would need to conceal herself and her identity, a few odds and ends she didn't know the purpose of, and a wound-up piece of long, shiny fabric, silver and black, with a fish-like creature intricately woven throughout the design. As if alive, it shined in the firelight with relish. She puzzled over it for a moment, then laid it with the other things.

As she did so, he said, "Thanks for the food, Katara."

"Thanks for coming back," wryly, she responded.

"Did you think I wouldn't?" Zuko asked, as if commenting on the singing of the frogs at the lake or how the stars were coming out above them.

"No," she replied. "Not what I meant, I wasn't sure if you were in trouble, that's all."

"You got my message?" he asked.

"I did. That was clever of you."

"Glad it came through." He shifted his weight. "We need to leave in an hour. Will you be ready?" The way he was talking had sped up purposefully.

"I'm already packed."

This gave him pause. "I haven't asked how you made out the last few days," he went on. "Are you all right?"

She felt pressed thin, a heavy weight descending. "I did fine on my own."

"Will that stuff work for you? It's best no one sees too much of your face or sees your Water Tribe

clothes. Or even Fire Nation clothes. We have to stay anonymous."

"It will, thanks. That was a good idea." She pulled the clothes toward her, then fingered the silver and black scarf. "This is really nice. What's it for?"

She saw his mad smile in the firelight. "I thought you might like it."

Her mind reeled in confusion. "Why?" she asked, hand frozen in the air where she'd been twirling the scarf, as she held his gaze.

"It's just,…" he started, stopped and tried again more seriously. "All the girls in the Fire Nation city I was in could go to boutiques and buy all this nice stuff. So I brought you back something, I thought you would like." He stopped, then went on. "Is that.. not all right?"

"Do you think I need your charity?" she said with faux amusement. "I didn't choose this life. My way of life was taken from me. But even if I could, I wouldn't stop –"

He held his hands up. "I just thought it would help with concealment, along with the other stuff I got you. It's just a little nicer."

"That isn't what you just said. Anyway, people in the Water Tribe make their own things. They don't need to pay someone." She wanted to show him the disdain he was showing her, to give it right back at him.

"I didn't explain myself well. It was a mistake. I was out there by myself, and I wanted to, I needed to get back here, and was thinking about you when I saw it. Just leave it in the bag, don't worry about it. I'm going to go collect Appa." He stood.

"All right!" With that, she tried to write him off as a lost cause. Even so, she was still infuriated with him. Partly because she felt he had no respect for her. She remembered watching for him on the path, looking for his return. Her anger turned inward. While on her own, she had missed him in the same way he had when he had been alone.

--

With that, they took Appa to where her mother's killer was living in near obscurity. Confronting him had been vindicating, but looking the frightened man in the eye had decimated her bloodlust into pieces. As they left on Appa, the cursed man still living in the countryside below them, her face became flushed. Zuko, steering Appa, said her name as if from far away. He repeated it, and turned toward her. She couldn't answer. Something was in the way. The clouds were floating by her in slow motion, and everything was too bright. She felt ill, and laid down to sleep, as she felt Appa descending to the ground somewhere.

--

Appa was eating something, head bowed to reach the ground. She went over to him to check on him. He began to walk away as she walked towards him. They were in the middle of a stony clearing, surrounded by the foothills that led to mountains beyond. Appa munched away at something.

"Appa?" she asked. "What's that you have?" She saw that it was a bitter kind of root, that she knew well, that lived under the ground and was full of corrosive poison. "No, Appa," she tried to say. "Don't eat any more." There was a woman somewhere nearby, she realized.

There was singing. Where was Zuko? They had set down here for a minute, because she'd grown faint. The singing grew louder. "Then one day, the child came out, on the other side of the forest," it sang.

She turned, because it was right behind her now. There was her mother, singing, a serene smile on her face, but she walked on fire. It caught on her dress. Katara searched for water, had no canteen or even vegetation nearby to draw it from. It was spreading, and her mother's singing became louder, more intense.

Zuko was there, and handed her a knife. She took it and sliced deeply into her arm, then the other arm, and drew out her blood and tried to put out the flames. But she had cut too well, and her arms hung useless at her sides. She could not bend the blood to put out the flames. It was too late. She began to scream, joining her mother. Then everything disappeared.

--

Suddenly she was conscious, and her muscles uncontrollably writhed with insistent pain. Her body radiated heat, yet she was chilled.

She opened her eyes, the lids tired and heavy. Laying on her side, she slowly came to realize that someone was holding her so close he could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her back. She reached out as in a dream, and grasped his hair, to be sure he was real. He stirred and she understood his discomfort at finding her awake, with him unable to explain himself. She realized it was Zuko after all, and she didn't know why he was there, and felt revulsion and relief.

He sat up and was talking, removing her hand from his hair and placing it at her side, but she didn't care what he had to say. She knew she needed him there with her, although she would detest herself for it later. She repeated, without hearing, that it was fine, it was fine. Stay. He was back at her side again, and his arms snaked about her, holding her body down as she danced in convulsions. Eventually, all became dark again. It was divine to rest. There was nothing to fear, and her sleep was free from dreams or nightmares. The last she knew, he could hear him whispering to her, "… face it … just face it."

--

"Hi Katara. I'm back. It's midday. Appa is all right. Worried. He's just outside, watching. We still can't travel, not til you wake up. Your fever is too high. But like I told you before, you're not sick. I think you have to work out something inside after what happened. You keep talking to yourself. Sometimes I respond, but I don't think it's getting through. What you say makes me wonder. Once, you sat straight up in bed and began to do the weather report. And you were singing, then you would just suddenly stop. So eerie. Then, you said a few times that the only way to unite the world was to defeat the Fire Lord, then you would marry me, since I'm a Fire Lord prince and you will be a war hero's daughter. Together we'd bring everyone together in harmony. I told Appa that one, and he gave me a look like he wasn't sure if I was serious or not."

"I .. said that?" Katara asked.

The sharp intake of breath betrayed his surprise. He moved toward her on all fours, then put a hand on her forehead, and on her cheek. She had to smile at his antics. "You're awake. How do you feel?"

"Back aches." She didn't even want to move around for a minute. Beneath her, she could feel additional padding than the usual hard ground, like she was sleeping on top of layers of fabric, or old clothes. She noted the way her lips weren't chapped, remembering you could avoid that in sick people by dabbing at their lips with water. "Nevermind me. I've never heard you talk so much."

"I thought you were out cold." When she didn't respond, he went on. "You had a high fever. It was all I could do to make it warm enough for you so it would break, out here in the middle of nowhere. We couldn't travel –"

"I heard that. Just now." She cleared her throat. "I remember."

"Well, all right, so you know then. Um, welcome back. I was just talking about nothing, no reason."

She flipped over to see him. He looked skinnier, paler than she remembered. His eyes were hollowed. She must look worse. She started to sit up.

"You're feeling stronger now?" He didn't meet her eyes. "I think we need to get back with everyone as soon as we can. They'll worry."

"How long?" she wondered to him.

"Four days."

That sunk in for a few minutes. Her heart felt as if it might burst.

She laid a hand on the edge of his jaw to turn him toward her. "Thank you for taking care of me," she said, wanting to be sure that he could see her sincerity in her face.

"It's fine. Fine. I should get you some water, aren't you thirsty?" He turned away.

"That sounds refreshing. I'll get it myself in a minute."

"All right…" He stayed put, unsure of what she was waiting for.

"I have to ask you something," she told him. "Did you really ever believe I would kill that man?"

"I thought you might ask me that. The truth is, I didn't know what to expect. The one thing I was sure of was that you had to confront whatever it was eating you away inside. I've felt the same – I got want I wanted, I was accepted back to my place in the Fire Nation. It would have been easy to stay. But it would have torn me up inside. I used to think the Fire Nation and my father were always right. But I left, and one reason was that there should be no authority over you but your own. When you made the choice not to kill him, you fundamentally changed yourself. Just like me, you'll never be the same."

"Did I make the right choice?" she wanted to know.

"It's up to you if it's right or wrong. But I'm glad I could help you make it, in some small way."

With that she got to her feet, crouching in the tent and swaying, and Zuko made no move to help her, which they both knew was how it should be.

Appa roared with delight at seeing her. Zuko, in his own way, meeting them outside, smiled at her upon seeing her well again, and still whole. He smiled in a way that was like holding fine porcelain up to the light: you could tell there was nothing in it to muddy the intention, just clean light showing through. She saw he was glad, and she wound up tight the picture of it in her memory, carefully preserving how right now, the two of them were connected and the inner kindness within him was assured. She retrieved Zuko's gift, and tied it to Appa's horn, where it streamed out freely in the breeze, heralding their vanquishment of a foe unnamed.