"Thank you, Katara."
His whisper was pained, but Katara heard the feeling in his voice. His figure was blurred by the tears in her eyes and she couldn't stop them from flowing. She thought she'd been too late.
Her arms were around him before she knew it, clutching him so tightly she could feel their hearts beat in a cacophonous sync—he groaned but she refused to let him go.
"Zuko, Zuko, Zuko," she sobbed, his name pouring out of her like a cry of relief.
One of his arms wrapped around her and he rubbed her shoulder. "Katara?"
Katara knew that there could be a better moment—a moment when he wasn't hurt, when his sister's anguished cries of rage and defeat weren't filling the background, when they reunited with the rest—that she could say this, but she'd almost been too late. Even now, she could feel how close it had been that she could have been too late.
But she had to say it now—she would not wait any longer. She had waited long enough—she had denied it long enough.
"Zuko, I…"