Their love making was passionate and tender every time. It was fierce, but gentle. It was always love, love that drew out the lust, and never vise versa. Zuko sucked on her neck, nibbling it gently as sweat coated both their skin, moving in and out of her with a steady rhythm she met. Today he was tender and slow, caressing her hair, scared to hurt her. He wanted to acclaim his love for her, he wanted to prove it because actions speak louder than words. Her arms clung to his back as her fingernails clawed his skin, running trails up and down the smooth of it, moving over his toned chest, straddling the star-shaped scar he got because of her, over her, to save her. Her eyes were shut, and she was in a daze of pleasure as he did most of the work. Spirits, she loved him, and she knew how much and how strongly her feelings were mutually reciprocated.

No matter how angry she got with him, as she had been the past week, she knew that it would always be him who held her heart, whose heart she also held. She had taken on the responsibility of holding his fragile heart in her sturdy hands, the heart that was big, lustered with gold, but was made of glass, had been smashed by a sledgehammer so many times, always pieced back together with flimsy glue. She had to hold it carefully for him, and reluctantly she'd admit she'd dropped it a few times, this week, salted the wounds, and she was determined now not to drop it again. She'd yelled, shouted, threw horrible allegations that vindicated his deepest fears, and cried out her faux regret at marrying him, screamed how she should have accepted Aang's proposal instead, told him he didn't give her enough time, that he wasn't enough.

But, he was more than enough. He was everything. He was her everything, her world. Aang was her best friend, and she loved him, she felt lonely and had been spending so much time with him the past three weeks amidst Zuko's busy-bodying. That made her need to show him her love even more, to convince her insecure husband that none of those heat-of-the-moment words were bona fide, that this, where they were now, this is how she really felt for him. That she loved him, she was in love with him, truly, madly, and deeply.

She moaned as he moved again, biting lightly on the crook of her neck, mumbling softly his declaration of love against her skin, reverberating through her body, feeling herself on the edge. "A-Aang," she moaned subconsciously her hand in his hair, not aware of what she said. "A-Aang, I-I love you so much," she whispered hotly in Zuko's ear, still not aware of the words that pierced the young man's heart, a dagger straight through.

He froze, stopped his little thrusts, the nibbling of her neck, the hairs on his back stood up, and he thought he'd die as he heard it. "Aang?" he croaked feebly, his voice hardly audible through the pain and disbelief, it corroborated everything she said earlier, placed new doubts in his mind that already swirled with them. No. He was her husband. It was supposed to be him. But, he loved her still, no matter, so he just continued, a single, hot tear rolling off his cheek, as he silently continued to make love to her.

When Katara caught what came out of her mouth she gasped. She couldn't believe nor understand that those were her words. All she was thinking about was him, she knew he was the only man she loved. Why? Why? She cursed herself, and her heart broke just as much as Zuko's maybe even more. She wanted to punch herself in the gut. How could she say something like that? After what she'd said before? She felt the hot tear, she heard the broken whisper, and she could hear the heart shatter in his voice, and she only imagined how painful those words must have hit him. But, what hurt the most was how he only paused briefly. Her hand pressed the back of his head, pushing him in close to her as she shook her head in denial.

"No," she muttered, almost in denial, "No, no, no," she reiterated. "Not Aang," she spoke, more so reassuring herself aloud than her husband. "Zuko, Zuko, Zuko, Zuko," she repeated. "I love Zuko, not Aang, Zuko," she told him, kissing his cheek, ignoring the pleasure he gave her, she was too hurt, saw he was too hurt, all she wanted now was to fix it. "My husband, the man I'm in love with, the one I adore, my Zuko," she spoke softly, kissing his cheek and stroking his hair, tears beginning to fall. She knew she'd never repair this, it would always linger in the back of his mind and hurt him now. "I'm so sorry, Zuko. I didn't mean it. I'm with you, you're all I think about, Zuko I love you so, so much. Honey, please, believe me, Zuko," she cried, her arm tightly wrapping around his back, above his shoulder blades, pulling him close as he remained silent. "Zuko, I don't love Aang, I haven't thought about him since I had you, Zuko, please don't hurt yourself over this, I don't know why I said it, Zuko, I love you. I am in love with you. Not Aang, you."

The words always warmed his heart, made him melt right into her. Those three words made him feel so safe and loved. They safeguarded his soul, they were so raw and real he had no choice but to buy them. But, this time they were hollow. It all felt empty. They felt like lies. He wanted it to pass, he wanted to feel again when she spoke those words, but he didn't believe her anymore. So he just finished, collapsing beside her, not lying on top as they usually did, and they talked, and shared secrets. He distanced himself, it made Katara want to cry. He'd always pour his heart and soul out to her and for her, but never again beg her to stay if that was how she truly felt, so he believed. He envied Aang, he believed he had his wife's heart, and it hurt, it hurt that he was not enough. So he lied there, staring at the ceilng, feeling the dull ache in his chest.

At her rambling, her swearing up and down of love, he just replied simply and brusquely.

"Okay."