The teal glow surrounding two tense bodies was too calming for the situation. Katara would rather be in a foul dungeon with this boy, than in a chamber which reminded her vaguely of the magical cave where she had had her first kiss. Zuko had been sitting completely still since he had picked himself up from where the Dai Lee had thrown him into the cell, his back to the water bending master that was his only companion. She was certain that she could put up a fight, if she had her bending water, but that was yet another luxury that the enemy had stolen from her. She was frustratingly and terrifyingly vulnerable.

One pulse of energy still called to her, more pure and vibrant than any other water she had ever been around. None of the guards had bothered to check a necklace for weaponry, not as if it mattered. This was no fighting water, and Katara knew without even considering the option that she would never abuse the vial's contents by using it against someone else. As the silence stretched on, all the hatred and blame building in Katara exploded in one, strikingly loud, question.

"Why did they throw you in here?!" She could immediately tell that no answer was going to be given. Zuko, usually so fiery-tempered and rude, didn't move a muscle.

"Oh, let me guess, it's a trap! So that when Aang comes to rescue me, you'll finally have him in your clutches!" She felt her face grow warm with her anger as her voice increased in volume, and this outburst finally inspired a reaction, however small. A slit of an eye – surrounded in angry, red scar tissue – revealed itself as Zuko turned to glance over his shoulder at her. Katara could gauge no emotion, however, and the action did nothing but rile her up more.

"You're a terrible person, you know that?! Always hunting the Avatar; the world's one last hope for peace! But what do you care; you're the fire lord's son. Spreading hatred and violence is in your blood."

"You don't know what you're talking about." The calm response was just as effective in infuriating Katara as being ignored. It didn't matter what Zuko said, she was finally taking out months of hatred and fear on the person she credited to the endangering of her family. He was egotistical, violent scum, and if she had her water, Katara would already have beaten him to a pulp. Frozen him in a block of ice until he begged for forgiveness.

"I don't?! How dare you! You have no idea what this war has put me through! Me, personally. The Fire Nation took my mother away from me…" In unleashing all of those strong emotions, more flooded out of her than Katara had wanted and – before she could even try to compose herself – she was sobbing on her knees on the floor like an anguished child. What did it matter anyway? Zuko had the upper hand now no matter what. He had his fire. There was nothing she could do to stop him.

It was a mistake to close her eyes, Katara discovered, as a vivid image of her mother filled her mind's eye and she could no longer control the torrent of tears sliding down her cheeks. Even in her despair, she could feel the life in the liquid flowing from her body.

"…I'm sorry." Confusion made her crying even louder as she cradled her head in her arms. Why would he say something like that? Was he making fun of her? "That's something we have in common." A tear-streaked face appeared from its hiding place as Katara struggled with what she had just heard, her sobbing coming to a halt in her befuddlement. She wiped a salt water trail from her face as she turned to look at the boy that was now halfway facing her. The silence was charged with energy, just like before, but without such an angry tint to it. Of course, Katara was still very suspicious, weary of this calm version of the boy she thought she knew, but she slowly stood; turning to face Zuko as he pulled himself to his feet as well.

The pause dragged on for what felt like forever, but Katara seemed to be the only one bothered by it. Zuko had that same, emotionless expression on his marred, yet undeniably handsome, face. Much of the anger had died at this point, and Katara couldn't help but notice that she had been the only one yelling and being irrational. Crying and throwing a temper tantrum like a toddler. Regret washed over her, coupled with the confusion and curiosity of Zuko's strange words.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"It doesn't matter." He turned his face away as if to show how much he didn't care. Not exactly a surprising reaction from someone who had never seemed to give a second thought to her or her friends before.

"…It's just that, when I imagined the face of the enemy, it's always been your face." Amber eyes flashed up to meet hers before darting to look at the ground at Zuko's feet. Fingers came up to touch the flame etched into his features and his voice became different somehow. Bordering on melancholy.

"My face…I see."

"No, no, that's not what I meant…" Katara took a few steps closer to her enemy, her weariness fading with the new tone in his voice. There had been an emotion in his gaze for that split second it met hers. An emotion all too familiar to her. Grief.

"It's okay. I used to think that this scar marked me. The mark of a banished prince, cursed to chase the ghost of the Avatar forever. But lately, I've realized that I'm free to choose my own destiny. Even if I'll never be free of this mark." There was a sincerity to Zuko's small speech – the most he had spoken since he had been tossed in here with her – and Katara could not help but to believe what he said. A part of her, the part that remembered all the times this boy had tried to take what was dear to her, was screaming at her that she was being naïve and stupid. But still she reached for the tiny miracle hanging around her neck.

"Maybe you could be free of it…"

"What…?" The look Zuko gave her reflected Katara's own feelings. His eyes were filled for a mere instant with blind, unreasonable hope; which was then quickly masked by his guard.

"I have healing abilities." All hope left his face at the words, and Zuko's voice lost the ring of emotion that it had had a moment ago.

"It's a scar. It can't be healed." The hand touching the vial through her clothes reached inside, pulling the necklace out so Zuko could see it. A small smile touched Katara's features at the idea of maybe being able to help; to take away some of the anguish and shame that Zuko was obviously dealing with. He really seemed to have changed…

"This is water from the spirit oasis in the North pole. It has special properties, though I've been saving it for something important…" Slipping the twine from her neck, Katara risked a few more steps closer to her cell mate; her posture meek and slightly on guard. "I don't know if it would work, but…"

Standing face to face for the first time, Zuko's stare – however emotionless – scorched into Katara's very being, and she stared back up at him in wonderment. She had never dreamed that she would be this close to the mighty Prince Zuko. He glanced once at the vial she was holding out, then back up to her round, innocent eyes – so full of earnest good will – and closed his own; his face angling away. It was as if he was closing himself off from even a chance of hope. As if he didn't want to believe the words he was hearing for fear that the optimism would turn into bitter disappointment.

Katara's hand came up without her even thinking, her fingertips grazing his scar with a gentleness he hadn't felt since before the shame had been seared onto his face. With his eyes open, Katara had noticed nothing but their burning, amber flame; the shared emotion she saw being so unexpected that it mesmerized her. Now, with that distraction gone, she could see the full extent to which Zuko had been injured. The scar looked so much more painful up close. As her hand felt the contours of Zuko's damaged skin, Katara wondered vaguely who had given it to him. For some reason, she didn't feel like it was okay to ask.

She never dreamed that she would have so much in common with this banished tyrant; who, oddly enough, didn't seem much like a tyrant anymore. In that moment, she would have done anything in the world to take away even a bit of his sadness. To see the great prince of rage smile, even a little. This feeling hit her like a platypus-bear strike and her hand froze in its wanderings. For some unknown reason, healing his scar was not the action she wanted to try at that moment. Time stood still as Katara's face inched ever closer to Zuko's; his features invitingly peaceful in that instant that seemed to last an eternity.

Their lips met and it was an explosion. All of the anger, frustration, confusion, understanding and shared grief merged in their two bodies with that singular touch. Katara felt Zuko's body tense at the unexpected kiss, and she was certain that he would pull away immediately. Instead, their lips remained touching – motionless – for what felt like another few seconds and another eternity all at once.

It definitely wasn't the way Katara had imagined making out to be like. She had expected more…movement. She was just about to pull away herself when the shuffling of Zuko's foot echoed throughout the chamber. In that one step towards her, all self control was lost.

A strong arm wound around Katara's waist, pulling her suddenly and a little too forcefully forward, into Zuko's body. The first thing she noticed was how warm he was compared to her. She had never felt anyone's body heat as much as this; it was as if he was a furnace. An almost too hot hand came up to cup the back of Katara's neck, locking her in Zuko's arms and to his lips.

His lips, scorching with heat and unchained passion, were far from motionless now. Katara felt her head slipping away from her as his mouth coaxed hers into the dance. Two slender hands came to rest on Zuko's chest, yet Katara could not bring herself to push him away. Fear and confusion mixed with the passion as the kiss continued. What was she doing?! Kissing the enemy! And enjoying it…

BAM!

That insane amount of warmth that Katara was adjusting to vanished, and she shivered a little in the aftermath of the collapsed ceiling falling to join them on the cell floor. Dust clouds obscured the source of the collapse, but Katara readied herself just in case it was something malevolent. Zuko took his fighting stance as well, and Katara couldn't help but to glance over at him. All emotion was gone from his features again. There was no evidence at all that his body had lost control; had wanted hers. Did she dream it? There was little time to think about the possibilities as two figures descended from what looked like a tunnel they had dug.

The second she saw the arrow, Katara leapt forward in relief; encasing Aang in a hug as Iroh rushed to Zuko. The warmth she had felt before in the embrace of a boy was gone as Aang wrapped his arms around her. She was sure it was merely Zuko's fire bending that made him so warm to the touch; but – for some reason that Katara couldn't even begin to fathom – it felt different. There had been something else that was absent now. The only word she could conjure to describe it was "spark". She didn't know what was going to happen next, or what she was going to do about the situation, but Katara couldn't deny what she had felt in those few moments underneath the great city of Ba Sing Sei.