She didn't expect this from him.
In fact, she hadn't expected anything like this.
She imagined he would get angry. Fire would flare out from his nostrils, and his amber eyes would hold all of the light and fury of Agni himself. The air around her would heat up so hot she was sure her skin would bubble up. The words that fell from his lips were the hottest, most scarring of all his reactions. Not even fire he could breathe over her skin would hurt as much as the barbed words that would surround her like flames licking against her skin. She would burn in flames watching him spewing his precious fire from his lips.
He would leave her standing there like an idiot in the middle of the air temple, nothing but smoldering ash. She could not say anything—A feat in itself when it came to Katara—but she would be too hurt to formulate any words to hit him back with. He knew just how to press the right buttons, hurt her beyond anything else she had felt before. He knew how to hit the chinks in her armor without a second thought. And for that, she hated him.
She wanted nothing more than to push him off the edge of the temple.
But that was nothing like he had done.
And that was what scared her.
Her eyes narrowed, darkening like the pit beneath them, and her voice dropped octaves. "You don't know anything about my mother, firebender. It not like you ever cared about-"
Whatever she was about to say was drowned out. He stepped up in front of her, his face masked in an incomprehensible emotion. Katara couldn't even remember what his face looked like.
Suddenly, his lean arms wrapped around her. She was engulfed in heat and warmth. The fabric of his clothes pressed against her face, and her arms were sandwiched between his chest and hers.
She took a deep breath, trying not to scream. He was holding her. He was touching her.
She didn't expect this. This was not how Zuko reacted. Zuko had a temper. Zuko stormed out. Zuko snorted fire. Zuko hurt.
Zuko never hugged. Zuko never felt like warmth. Zuko never, ever felt like home.
She could feel the side of her head, the portion of her hair that Zuko's face was pressed against, start to become moist.
"Z—Zuko?" She asked, her voice no louder than the wind that blew through the empty halls.
For a minute, she questioned if he had even heard her. He stood in silence, no sound coming from him. All she could feel was his shaking hands clenching her shirt, the wet patch of her hair, and his ragged breaths coming in and out of his mouth.
"Katara." He whispered her name, expelled out in one breath, one syllable. She couldn't help the shivers that ran down her back.
Words could not escape. Her throat closed, rough and dry. His hands felt like burning flames against her skin, and her wet hair clung to the side of her head.
But she couldn't help when she wiggled her arms out from between the two of them. She couldn't control her arms as they wrapped around his waist, and when she tipped backward a little so she could pull him closer to her. She couldn't help when his ragged breathing turned to choked sobs, when his hands wrapped even tighter around her waist and pulled her up to him. She couldn't help it when his head dropped to her shoulder, soaking the blue material, and her hands raised up to cradle his head.
"Zuko..." She stopped, willing her bottom lip to stop trembling. To push back her own tears that were threatening to spill. "Zuko, I want you to know." Deep breath. "Your mom would love to see the man you have become. I know... I know your Uncle is completely proud of you, and would love to see you on the throne of the Fire Nation." His sob was loud in her ears. She would give anything—anything in her whole world—to make his tears go away for the rest of his life. "And I know... I know that... I... I would be... pr—proud."
She choked back a sob, her whole frame shaking. Zuko's own sobs had subsided, and she felt his head come up from her shoulder. He faced her, the red of his eyes almost matching his clothes. His black hair was matted from where he had pressed it against her now-wet clothes. She had to stop herself from breaking out into laughter.
"Katara," he said again, his voice nothing more than a broken whisper. The sound of her voice coming from his mouth made her shiver again. "Thank you."
She smiled up at him, the tears she had been so long repressing finally coming to the surface. She couldn't help it—something about him just made her cry.
"I think it's me who should be thanking you. "