Katara stood stock-still, staring at the unconscious form in front of her, the man she knew only as her mother's murderer. Unshed tears stung her eyes as a painful lump grew in her throat.

Zuko placed a hand on her shoulder, which she immediately shrugged off.

"Don't touch me!" she choked angrily.

He said something, but she didn't know what, having succumbed to her grief and hysteria. Her mother was dead, and she was never coming back. It was a fact she had already known and had known for years, but suddenly it was hitting her again as though she had always been completely oblivious to it. Suddenly, she wasn't fourteen year-old and the thread that held her tag-tag group of friends together. Instead, she was a little girl who had just lost something that could never be replaced; her mother.

Zuko wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She let him, not caring who he was. At that moment, all she wanted to do was breakdown and let someone else to the supporting and comforting and healing.

Burying her face in his shoulder and clenching his shirt in her fist, Katara sobbed uncontrollably, her warm, salty tears soaking Zuko's shirt. He made no comment of complaint, simply rubbing her back silently.

Somewhere in the mess of her unrestrained emotions, Katara decided the moment was nice.


Author's Notes: So, yeah. My feelings for this are the same as my feelings for 'Need'; don't hate it, don't love it.

Tell me what you think.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Avatar' or any of its characters.