Title: Falling Farther In
Author: Kit Spooner
Rating: PG/K+ for this section, ratings will be rising sharply later on
Warnings: None really. Very mild language and a subtle suggestion of flooziness
Disclaimer: Avatar: the Last Airbender was created by Bryan "Sokka" Konietzko and Mike "Aang" DiMartino and is the property of Nickelodeon. I simply support their efforts with my love and with the purchase of lots of merchandise.
Summary: Time's running out for our heroes. While Aang and the others are off planning an attack on the Fire Lord, Katara and Zuko are in charge of building an army for the Avatar. So much can change in just a few weeks.

Notes: This story is being written for a challenge on the katarazuko livejournal community. The entire story is framed around the October Project's second and final album, Falling Farther In. This means that the story and chapter titles do not belong to me. As of this writing (9/30/06), this story is canon-compliant, but since I've set the story toward the end of season 3, it's a pretty good bet that this'll be jossed in no time. So consider this an AU.

Chapter 1: Deep As You Go

If you'd told me two months ago that I'd be sharing command of a vast rebel army with Zuko, Prince of the Fire Nation, well, I'm not sure I would have laughed in your face, but I certainly wouldn't have taken you seriously. But, here I am and if I'm going to be honest with you (and myself), I'll have to admit that there's no other place I'd rather be.

See, the situation's a bit complicated at the moment. The war against the Fire Nation is actually being fought on two separate fronts. I'm not entirely sure where our other front is, at the moment, but they're out there somewhere. Aang's theoretically in charge, wherever they are, but we all know that it's Sokka and Iroh who are doing the thinking and the planning. They've been quietly training and preparing for the final fight with the Fire Lord for, oh, nearly two months now. Toph's with them too, since Aang still needs some work on his Earthbending. Also, I'm not entirely sure you could keep the two of them apart even if you tried. And anyway, she'll be able to help him out when he actually faces down Ozai.

Zuko and I, on the other hand, are, for the moment, kind of expendable. It doesn't take Sokka's cleverness or Iroh's vast experience to build and lead an army. So the prince and I (and Jet and Suki and that idiot Hahn and a dozen assorted generals from the Earth Kingdom) have been at it for weeks, recruiting soldiers for the Avatar's Army. And when I say 'soldiers,' I mean 'able-bodied people who can either 'bend their way out of a wet paper sack or, at the very least, hold a sword, or fire a bow, or brandish a pitchfork. We're not picky, these days. We know that no matter how big a force we muster, it probably won't be enough to defeat the legions that the Fire Nation has spent the last century building.

It can be pretty daunting, but morale isn't nearly as bad as it could be. Zuko's the main reason for this.

Who'd have guessed that such a whiny, spoiled asshole would turn out to be such a charismatic leader?

Sure, it was rough at the start. Turns out that public-speaking scares the crap out of him, makes him so nervous that he still vomits before going up to the podium. But he's brilliant. I mean, really, really good. Zuko has all the makings of a hero and somehow, he turns that to our advantage every time he addresses a new crowd of skeptical villagers.

After the first couple rounds of campaign-style recruiting that we did, Jet and I conferred and decided that dramatic was the way to go. Yeah, Jet – self-serving jerk that he is – is pretty much the master of dramatic presentation. (Even after a few rounds of brainwashing in Ba Sing Se and a few weeks of recovering after we rescued him, well, he's still a bit of an ass.) So we started arranging Zuko's speeches to coincide with the sunset, both for the dramatic lighting that burnishes his shaggy hair to molten brass and lights his scar with renewed flame, and for the simple timing of our message.

"The era of Fire Nation oppression is over," Zuko pronounces over the dull murmur of the fascinated crowd. "Any imbalance in the elements leads to an imbalance in power. The rich get richer, the poor suffer beyond imagination. And not just here, on the edges of the Earth Kingdom. In the Water Tribes, generations of young warriors have vanished, smashed bravely against the iron bulwarks of the Fire Navy. In the Earth Kingdom, the unlucky ones live and die in the iron mines and forges, no matter which master they serve, Fire or Earth. And even in the Fire Nation, a once-proud people are reduced to breeding stock, forced to replenish a population forced to bear the brunt of Fire Nation recruitment efforts."

I love listening to him speak. Sure, he may be a jerk who lives only for vengeance against those who cast him out years ago, but when he gives these speeches, oh, it's so easy to lose yourself in the cadence of his message.

"I do not serve the Earth Kingdom!" he continues, spreading his arms wide against the setting sun. "No king or general commands my loyalty here. I do not bow to the Water Tribes or their chieftains. Even my homeland, the beleaguered Fire Nation, no longer holds my highest allegiance." His dramatic pause highlights the sudden and complete silence across the sea of spellbound peasants.

"No, I serve a higher power, a power that rises above elemental divisions. I serve the Avatar, the spiritual link among all of our peoples. He's only a child, and still he risks his life fighting the very evils we have hidden from for so many years. And I say, I'm tired of hiding, tired of making excuses. It's time for the final attack. It's time to let the Avatar do his job! I've sworn to aid him to my dying breath. Who here has the courage and hope to stand with us!"

The echoes of his final bellow never have time to face before the crowd shouts in unison in response. I give a nod to Suki and Jet and they disappear into the periphery of the crowd to organize the officers who'll now be filtering through the throng, sorting new recruits into units and beginning the task of our evening bivouac. I take charge of Zuko.

As per usual, the prince manages to shakily step down from his makeshift podium (a supply wagon draped with our four-color war-banner) and I take his arm to lead him back to the tent that he and Jet share. Or at least, the tent they would share if Jet wasn't currently working his way steadily through the Kiyoshi warriors.

"Another good speech," I tell Zuko as we walk.

He grunts and looks exhausted, leaning his weight against me for the support his pride won't let him ask for.

I secretly enjoy this part of our campaign. Despite being his co-commander, we spend very little time alone. But in the evenings after speeches we get a few hours to rest, and I've weaseled my way into his routine. It's a rare sort of treat to spend time with him without either bickering fiercely or smiling cheesily for the soldiers.

I guide him into the tent and sit him down onto his cot. He flops down onto his back and stares up at the ridgepole of the tent while I make him some tea and reheat a little dinner. Admittedly, it's a little frustrating that I spend all of my spare time thinking about him, worrying about his health, and generally mooning over him in as subtle a way as I can manage, and he barely even looks at me, even when we're alone together. You'd think it'd be enough for me that I've earned his trust and friendship, that he feels free to act like himself around me.

Man, I'm pathetic these days.

As I'm pouring the hot water into a little clay teapot, the steam billows around my face, helping to hide my blush. It's been a couple since I realized that I wanted much, much more than Zuko's trust and friendship. And a couple weeks since I started reminding myself that there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. Hell, I couldn't even talk to Zuko about my feelings because it would risk the tenuous partnership we've built and we need to work together on this whole army thing.

It's hard, though, having this embarrassingly steady affection for him. It would have been easier if I still viewed him as the useless little rich boy he once was. But he truly is admirable, now, a genuine hero beyond any vigilante with a mask. The men in the army worship him and the women, well, let's just say that I have a quiet agreement with Suki and some of her girls in regards to maintaining a rotating guard around his tent at night. Zuko needs his sleep more than he needs some half-rate floozy of an earthbender sneaking into his bed.

I briefly allow myself to wonder what things will be like in a few short weeks, once the comet has departed and the war is over. Zuko will make a great king, if he survives.

And I'll . . .

"The tea needs to steep a little longer," I say quietly, refusing to finish that dangerous thought. So I load up a tray with two chipped teacups and the pot of hot tea, toting it over to Zuko's bedside. I hook my ankle around the little folding table that we use to plan traveling routes and play Pai Sho, and pull it to the side of his cot. Setting down the tea tray, I glance over at him to find his eyes closed and his breathing even.

He may be a fantastic figurehead for our army, but it's exhausting for him. I wish there was something I could do to help share the burden of that weight on his shoulders, but I'm pretty sure he's stuck with it. I'm just a gangly peasant from the south, unknown and unremarkable. I certainly wouldn't be able to draw in new soldiers the way Zuko does.

Leaving Zuko to rest, I put together some rice and leftover stew for him, set the bowl next to his tea and then settle in to wait until he wakes.

From where I sit on a stool at his bedside, his scar is hidden, and he looks younger than he really is, far younger than he seems when he's giving speeches atop a supply wagon. There are dark circles under his eyes, though, and he's lost some weight. The urge to brush back his messy hair and touch his face is nearly overwhelming.

It takes me a moment to realize that I've actually reached a hand out toward him. My fingers hover over his lips briefly before I snatch them back and fold my hands tightly into my lap.

Bad Katara, I remind myself. No molesting Prince Figurehead.

So instead I sip his tea and watch him sleep. It's a relaxing sort of pastime, though not quite as fun as fighting with him or sparring.

The tea works its warm, soothing magic on my tense spine and I find myself relaxing, leaning more and more against the side of his cot. It looks as though he'll be sleeping a while; he'll never even know if I just lay my head down for a brief while and take guilty advantage of his warmth.

It's not even a choice, and between one frustrated, aching thought and the next, I've slid onto the edge of his cot and laid my head down near his. The heat from his curled spine radiates and lulls me to sleep.

(Chapter first posted: 9/30/06)