It's quieter now than he ever remembers it being in the palace. There'd always been servants in the halls, or the dark muttering of generals and guards on their ways to and from meetings. But there's something yearning and empty about this place now, and from where he lies prostrated and numb in bed, he thinks he can hear his own erratic heartbeat echoing off the walls. He doesn't know where everyone has gone, nor does he even feel bothered in this moment to care. Each time he closes his eyes, he swears he can still see the whitehot flash blazing around him - feel searing pain, his body convulsing, smell his own flesh burning, and hear her screaming.

"How's that?" Katara's voice, though soft from where she sits at his bedside, is ever present in the wide and otherwise silent room. "Any better?" She slides her hands, aglow and healing, over his abdomen, and it takes a few moments for Zuko to answer.

"Yeah."

The truth is, he still can't feel most of the right side of his body, and his left arm feels like it's on fire with tingling.

"There's a lot of damage…" she admits, forehead wrinkled. "I'm not sure how much more I can fix."

"That's all right." He tells her, because it's true.

"And this blister… I've never worked on this kind of wound before, and I don't think there's anything more I can do for it-"

"It's fine."

"It's gonna scar pretty badly, and-"

"A scar? How will I go on?"

At that, she stops healing suddenly, and with a twinge in her chest, glances to meet his eyes. "...Right. Sorry."

She looks away, then, and tries to focus on his injury. It's his heart that concerns her, mostly, and she can't say for sure whether or not it'll ever fully recover from its current, weakened state. Looking at him drains the breath right out of her. Perhaps she wasn't the one who'd been shot full of electricity, but she still feels numb. It's only through experience and muscle-memory that her hands manage to heal him at all. Beyond that, her eyes are trained to the veiny, fractaled red mark on his body that she's struggled to heal for hours now. She thinks it may as well be her face tattooed right onto his chest.

"Don't be." He finally says, low and soft.

The tension in this moment is incredible, and they both know what's coming. It's just a matter of who breaks first - this quiet, painful facade they've each been hiding behind for the passed several weeks. It's all so fragile now - it's been thinning out steadily since their excursion to find the Southern Raiders - and when katara's hands begin to tremble against Zuko's skin, he knows neither of them can hold out much longer.

Her voice comes out shaky and unsure.

"You didn't have to do this."

His is firmer.

"Shut up. It was the only thing to do."

"Throwing yourself in front of a lightning bolt for me? Zuko, I can't-..."

"Then don't." He answers simply. "I did it, okay? It happened. And it's over." Except, that last part isn't exactly true, and he knows it just as well as she does. "And we both lived through it."

He can see her swallow down the lump in her throat and tame the quivering of her lip before she asks, "What if I hadn't been able to-...?" She glances down at the blister.

"...What if I hadn't been able to?"
What he hasn't yet told her - and perhaps never will - is that as he'd leapt to intercept that lightning, all he'd felt inside was absolute terror that he wouldn't get there in time. And even as the charge jolted through him, he'd been relieved. He thinks that if he could succeed at nothing else in life, then thank the spirits he succeeded at saving her.

But amidst the immense gratitude Katara feels expanding in her chest, she can't ignore the awful pang of fear. She doesn't want to think about what it means that this boy underneath her hands who once fought her with vehemence and contempt, nearly gave his life to spare hers. Or what it means that her heart still hasn't settled from the terror of having thought he wouldn't make it.

When she speaks again, she does so without looking into his eyes. "...You shouldn't have done it." She insists, stubborn and tight-throated. "I don't understand how you could."

Frankly, Zuko doesn't understand it, either - that primal, wild instinct that had lurched his body forward without thinking. It is with deep sincerity that he admits, "...It was the easiest decision I've ever made."

She stares at him long and hard - maybe trying to find any trace of deceit or uncertainty in his golden eyes. But the longer she looks at him, the more she feels inclined to take a step back. "...Would you have done the same for anyone else?" Even as the words come out of her mouth, she knows it isn't a fair question to ask.

"I'd like to think I would."

"But…?"

"But I couldn't honestly say."

Katara nods then, and for a long while, it's all she can think to do. Her hands are flat and still against his skin now, and they linger there a moment before she draws them into her lap, turning away a little.

"Katara…" Zuko breaths, his voice gritty with the dull pain that throbs in his body. It seems that as soon as her touch lifted away from him, the discomfort intensified. His heart palpitates. His breathing is just a little ragged, and he thinks that just looking in her eyes would alleviate some of the soreness.

"What." She doesn't mean to snap at him, and she feels awful when the word lashes out of her that way, but she can't help it. The precariousness of what's happening is something she's acutely, painfully aware of. She turns back toward him - just a little - to find him gritting his teeth as he bears the pain.

"You know we need to talk."

Her first instinct is to disagree - to hastily mutter some excuse that would allow her to step out indefinitely. But she couldn't manage that lie right now even if she tried. So she says, with a sigh that makes her feel heavier, "...I know. But Zuko-"

"Listen." When he interrupts her, he sounds a little stronger. More insistent. "I know things are complicated - I know that's why you didn't wanna talk about this before, on Ember Island… or before that, after we got back from Whale-Tail Island. But…" He takes a breath, during which he can see Katara's shoulders hunch. "Everything's coming to an end now. And… and if nothing else, I need you to know that-"

"I already know. I know." She almost startles him, whirling back around to face him. "But Zuko, do you really think this is a good time to-"

"Please, Katara, if you can tell me when a good time will be, then I'm happy to wait." He's almost got this sad, desperate look in his eyes when she looks down at him. And he's right, she thinks. There is no right moment, or ideal time for this, and right now is just as awful and just as perfect as any other moment might be.

"I…" She stammers, feeling like she's backed against a wall. Her world now feels so small - just her and Zuko, alone in this room, with nothing more important left to distract from what's on their hearts. There's no war standing between them anymore. But still, she tells him, "I can't right now."

"Please." No, at this point he's hardly above begging, and he takes one shaky breath before beginning to push himself upwards with his elbows, grunting in pain as he nears a sitting position.

"Zuko!" She reaches out to help him, gripping his shoulders. "You need to lie down."

"No. I need to look you in the eye. I need to know what's what between us." His heart feels like it might literally combust with every beat, and his breaths are shallow as his hands cling to her forearms. "I… Katara, I love you, and… sometimes, I think you might love me, too."

He sees her mouth his name - sees wetness brim at her lashes - and feels her hands tremble a little on his shoulders. He thinks she might have stopped breathing. He's right. The anticipation he feels now is somehow worse than waiting for that lightning bolt to hit him. "Say something." He pleads, voice cracking, and fingers tightening around her arms. "Please."

It's then that she, in an apologetic panic, begins to pull from his grip, and at first he won't let her go. It's probably not intentional, the way he's gripping onto her, but it scares her nonetheless and she snatches away so forcefully that she nearly falls from her chair. Inside her head, her heartbeat is loud and reverberating. There's sweat prickling all over her. Her chest feels hollow. She thinks if she loses focus on the feel of air flowing in and out of her lungs, she might outright faint. Unable to sit still, she gets to her feet and paces to the foot of the bed and back - she can feel Zuko's eyes following her. When she finally manages to respond, the words almost come out in a yell. "What do you want me to say?"

Zuko's eyes widen at the question, and he suddenly feels as though his spirit is pouring right out of his body. "Wh-... what do you mean 'what do I want you to say?" He counters, voice hoarse and brow furrowing. "I just told you that I love you! What do you think I want you to say?"

Then she nearly snaps, "Zuko, you can't possibly think-..." But she stops herself. The hurt manifests instantly in his eyes, more deeply than he's shown any of his physical pain thus far. If she looks closely enough, she thinks she can see him clench his jaw, perhaps to tame an imminent quiver in his lip. The subsequent pang in her chest leaves her weak in the knees, and she lets herself go to his bedside once more, kneeling down beside him. "I mean… I meant to say…"

He begins to shake his head. Whatever words she's going to say next, he isn't convinced he can handle hearing them. Not now, and not ever. "Katara…" He manages in a miserable quaver.

The breath she takes is careful and hesitant, and she wills the tears welling in her eyes to recede. After biting her lip, she tells him, "You mean so much to me, Zuko. You know that. And… and there was a time that I thought I could never forgive you, but…" She almost laughs - a sad, reminiscent laugh - "I can't imagine things not having happened this way."

"Then…" He pauses. This is a question he doesn't think he can bear the answer to. "Then what's in the way? Katara, I… I don't want to say goodbye to you now that this is over. I want you here with me."

"I know!" She squeezes her eyes shut.

"Then what-?"

"I still have nightmares about the things you did!" Pressing her hands down onto the mattress, she leans forward and nearly screams at him, and Zuko recoils like she'd drawn a weapon on him. "You'll never understand how much you hurt me - how much you scared me, Zuko!" Those tears she'd been battling are winning now, and she ceases her efforts to stop them. "And I know you were just hurt and confused, and I know you're different now, and I know you'd take it all back if you could, and now I know you'd give your life for me if you ever thought you had to, but… dammit, Zuko!" Then she pushes him - one quick shove - uncaring of how it may hurt him. "No matter how hard I try to make it stop - and believe me, I've tried to make it stop - the face I see when nightmares keep me up at night is still your face. It doesn't matter how I've learned to feel about you. I can't be with someone I'm scared of. I won't."

She's shaking like mad. She doesn't know where it all came from. If she'd had her way, she'd have taken this secret to her grave. But there'd been something about Zuko's eyes - the melancholy, the desperation, the fierce need that she saw there - that split open the most battle-weary parts of her soul. And already, she regrets saying anything at all.

Zuko feels as though if he speaks, the only sound he'll make is a moan of anguish. So for a long, unbearable moment, he's silent, lips pressed into a fragile line. There's an instinct in him that wants to reach out to her, as much as it would cause his body pain, and wipe away the tears that shine upon her face in the low lanternlight, but he remains where he is. Then finally when he is able, two lonely words find their way out from within him.

"I'm sorry."

Katara looks away. She can't stand this for another moment.

"I know."

"I love you." He says again, because it's true, and because he doesn't know what else to say.

"Thank you… for telling me that. But you need to move on. It can't happen."

Then once more, "...I'm so sorry."

"Me, too." She answers, pushing herself up to stand and turning her back as she wipes her eyes. Then, heading toward the door, "I… need to go find some bandages for that wound."

Author's Note: I swear I am a Zutara shipper, in case this fic made it seem otherwise. :P I thought of this as a way to justify Katara's choosing Aang in canon. Anyways, if you haven't already, and you enjoyed this fic, you should totally check out my other stories, "Searavens," and "Unrequited," as all three of them are connected. :) It doesn't really matter which order you read them in, though. But like always, thanks for reading, and please feel free to leave a review!

Love,

-Firelord Frowny.