Warmth.

That was what she felt when she was around him. Unyielding, everlasting warmth that could even cut through the frigid winters of the South Pole. Warmth that seeped through her clothes, through her skin, and into her very soul with the slightest touch. That was what Zuko was to Katara and the funny thing was that she wasn't the only one who knew it. Sokka, Toph, even Aang would have been able to see how she lit up whenever she was around him, had they actually been paying attention. Her cheeks took on that certain shade of pink that resembled a sunset-kissed sky and her eyes brimmed with happiness.

Katara had, undoubtedly, worried about the feelings developing between them. At first she tried to convince herself that it was nothing; just desperation in that cave and a need to latch onto someone to preserve her own sanity. But when those feelings didn't dissipate, when she found her mind lingering on thoughts of him… how the rough skin of his scar felt beneath her finger tips… she knew she had a problem. Her nights were spent almost restlessly as she tussled with the idea of loving the Prince of the Fire Nation. Not just anyone… but someone descending from the line of people who were responsible for the death of her mother. The very person who had been chasing Team Avatar across the world.

The very person who had turned on her when they needed him most.

But in the face of the love she felt for him now… the fully realized desire to be near him at every waking moment and the fact that he had joined their merry ensemble to take down his own father… Katara couldn't keep her thoughts secluded to her restless slumbers. Now she was forced to spend every moment they were together – Heaven forbid they be alone – wondering if she was the only one who felt the spark every time their skin inadvertently touched.

Stolen glances were her chief crime; something she never seemed to catch Zuko indulging himself in no matter how much she wanted him to. It was starting to feel like he was deliberately avoiding her; as if he knew what she felt – what she was thinking – and wanted to keep as far away from her as possible.

Katara let that paranoia burrow into her mind until she had all but withdrawn into herself. Every night sleep became more and more scarce. It was like she was an addict, suffering from withdrawals. Was this what it was like? Was this what her father felt like after her mother died? Inconsolable loneliness that gripped you even in the depths of sleep? If it was… well, Katara couldn't go on like this. There was only so much water bending to soothe the nerves before you just couldn't take anymore.

So much of her wanted to come clean to Zuko; to apologize for making things awkward between them and just tell him that the stolen glances and soft sighs and the blush of her cheeks were all because she was nervous around him. Because she didn't trust him. But she couldn't bring herself to lie to him as she met his brown eyes, half covered by the fringes of his long, black hair.

Instead, without thinking, she moved her right hand up to brush her fingertips over the emblazoned scar he wore with shame like she had done so long ago. A pent up breath was released from both of them, bringing surprised eyes up to meet.

"Zuko… I-"

"No, Katara, it's my fault-"

"No… no it's… it's ok…"

"Is it? Is this really ok?"

Neither of them cared to answer Zuko's question honestly. What part did they want to be ok? The part about the star crossed lovers who had no business falling in love with each other? Or the part where they were both in agony over denying the burning passion that was building between them.

Breaths became heavy, fast, and erratic as the space between them closed and Zuko pulled Katara's slender frame into his arms, letting her fingers rest on his scar.

"It's… hideous. I know." His voice dropped in shame as his eyes darted to the floor.

"No… no. It's not. It shows how brave you are. It's part of you and… I wouldn't change you, Zuko."

Again their eyes met and the tension between them was buzzing as they continued to hold each other.

Slowly Katara's finger tips slid down his face to brush over his lips, feeling the warmth of his breath wash over her hand. Her heart was thudding in her chest so heavily that she was certain it would burst but she didn't care. She didn't want to do anything to disturb this moment.

Slowly, Zuko lowered his head before pressing his chapped lips against her full and supple ones. They were yin and yang. Fire and ice. He was so dry and ashen and rugged and she was so soft and supple and smooth but yet neither of them cared as they gripped each other tight and let the passion flow through their kiss.

Everything fell away. There was no war, no conflict, no death, and no sadness.

There was only warmth.