"It's over."

Her mind whispered it repeatedly as she stared out at the horizon. She seemed to be in shock, she thought, quite rationally; because whatever she felt now was the furthest thing from sadness she knew. But it was not happiness, either. It was nothing. Simply nothing.

Her fingers wound through the grass beneath her, occasionally pulling out a clump to stare at, to fiddle with. She was bored. But she couldn't bring herself to move. Not just yet. She felt she should sit there for a few hours, to think, to conserve energy; to understand. Because she didn't understand what had just occurred. No more than the rainbow in the distance understood that she wanted to sit atop it instead of this tiny hill – simply so that she could see the world before it came crashing down on her.

Swallowing, she laid back and stared at the blue in the sky. She wished it was raining; it seemed like whenever someone broke up, it should be raining.

"Ah!" Zuko yelled, shocked. It had begun to downpour quite suddenly and, by the angry look on his face, he obviously believed it was Katara's doing. "Make it stop!" He yelled.

Katara laughed, skating her feet across the damp grass. "Never!"

Zuko, scowling and cursing under his breath, ducked down and dashed toward the nearest cover – a peasant's tiny porch roof. He slid on the grass, but did not fall, much to Katara's chagrin. She watched him, smiling softly, as he straightened up and shook the water from his hair under the drying cover. She felt something akin to pride at how beautiful he looked under the soft light of a mid-afternoon shower, with his clothes pasted to his shivering body. He slid his shirt off and slung it out, making Katara blush and turn away.

But his voice, stern and amused, forced her to face him once again. "Come under here! You'll catch a cold!"

"You sound like my father!" She grinned.

Jutting his lower lip out, he glared at her. "Just get over here!"

Katara, grinning like a child on Christmas morning, stepped quickly up to Zuko and leaned her drenched body against his. He grunted at the cold, but made no comment as he leaned down, his head falling into the downpour, to press his lips to hers.

And, just as suddenly as the rain had started, it stopped, the sun peeking out from behind the thick grey clouds, as if to say good-morning to the lovely couple.

With it, a great, shimmering rainbow appeared; circling the horizon – a rainbow of which Zuko and Katara watched as the night dawned and it disappeared to whence it came, leaving true love to sprout in the children's hearts.

Katara looked at the rainbow again, that afternoon clear in her mind. And it finally came to her. Those days that they had lain in bed together, speaking only of their future married lives; their future children; their future fights… they would never happen. She would not get those things with the man she loved. She would not become the Fire Lady – no matter how she wanted to. She would not bear Zuko's children. She would not win every argument they shared, simply because he could not bear to see her cry. They would not happen.

All because she was a peasant king's daughter, and he was the Fire Lord of the strongest nation of them all.

Pain sprouted in her toes and sprang up her legs, leaving a tingling trail behind, until it reached her heart. Where it stayed, tearing her apart until her body shook, and her eyes bled tears.

("I'm sorry," he had finished, but it meant nothing. Nothing at all.)