"I should've stayed with Suki in the lodge," Zuko grumbles, but his heart isn't in it. One glance at Katara, and he sees her face light up as his hands connect with his poles. He knows that she's so excited to share this traditional Water Tribe activity with him, though he can't tell why. The whole endeavor sounds miserable.
Sokka, on the other hand, is bouncing in his new Momo 500 skis, eager to hit the slopes. "Once I got going so fast, I caught an otter-penguin sliding ahead of me." He licks his lips at the memory. "We ate well that night."
Zuko's nose wrinkles in disgust, but he doesn't have time to remind Sokka how gross his diet is. Katara tugs on his red puffer, urging him to follow her. "Time to hit the dragonfly bunny slope."
Zuko is the tallest person on the bunny slope by at least a head. He towers over the dozens of children populating the mountainside. The little skiiers slip and slide down the hill, barely managing to control their paths and colliding a few times with other beginners.
Katara has embraced the role of instructor a little too eagerly for Zuko's liking. "Bend your knees— like that." She applies pressure to his legs, coaxing them to shift. "Then turn your feet inward, like a turtleduck."
He rolls his eyes. "Yes, Sifu."
"Watch it, or you'll be eating snow."
"That's already going to happen at this rate," Zuko grouses, steadying himself as his skis sink into the snow with a hiss.
"Stop digging your feet into the ground so hard."
"I'm not." Zuko's patience is wearing thin. Steam wafts up from the snow now covering his feet.
"Wait a second." Katara's bewilderment strikes Zuko by surprise. "Why—"
"Is this not what's supposed to happen?" His dreams of impressing Katara with his prowess on the slopes float away with the steam.
"Oh spirits… You're melting the snow!"
"I'm what?"
"When you're stressed, you heat up, right? Well, your skis are metal… so they conduct heat. You're burning your way through the powder!"
Zuko groans. Of course
"At this rate, you'll be stuck on the bunny hill all day," chuckles Katara. "Come on." She grabs one of his mittens with her own. "Look at me."
Zuko drags his eyes away from the slush puddle leaking through his ski boots.
"You can do this," she smiles. "You just need to cool off." Then she pushes him backwards into the snow, and plops down beside him. As she leans over to kiss him, Zuko realizes this might not be the best method for cooling off. The ice around him is puddling faster than a baby wolfbat pet in its owner's bed. But Katara is kissing him, and she refreezes the water underneath him with the flick of her wrist. So Zuko resigns himself to looking like a fool for the day.
The sun must be high in the sky by the time Zuko masters a controlled slide down the bunny slope. But he can't tell how much time he's spent here because of the thick cloud cover enveloping the peak.
"You've got it!" Katara cheers when he glides towards her, braking with his knees and the poles. "Now it's time to take you up to the summit."
The lift criss-crosses the mountain, interrupting the blinding white with tiny brown poles and cables snaking up the cliff. Zuko eyes the green chairs dubiously as they whoosh by the queue, scooping up the snowboarders ahead of him.
"Whee!" one of them giggles as she sinks into the chair.
"Careful, Meng," the other one says. "Your board's going to fall off if you move too quickly."
Maybe Katara feels Zuko's fingers drumming incessantly against hers, or notices the clench in his jaw. Whatever tips her off, she simply notes, "You're worried."
Zuko nods. The next chair slows as it circles towards them.
"It'll be okay. You just have to… Sit!"
The metal hits the back of his legs. His knees buckle reflexively and his body catapults backwards into the chair. Katara has somehow managed to gracefully place herself next to him. She lowers the metal bar— all that protects them from toppling from their rising perch to the ground— and rests an arm around Zuko. "Now you just need to enjoy the view."
When Katara leans in for a kiss, Zuko has to admit he likes this part of skiing. The frosty wind nips at his ears as Katara nips at his lips, and Zuko wonders how Suki can pass up riding the lift with Sokka. Then he remembers what he's about to do— hurtle down the mountain on two strips of metal— and he longs for the lodge. He could be drinking hot tea with Suki now, but no, he had to go impressing his girlfriend and bruising his butt in the process.
Too soon, the lift slows. "Get ready to stand!" Katara shouts over the wind. She scoots towards the edge of the seat and slides forward when her skis make contact with the snow below. Zuko stumbles, a graceless descent from the lift… and one that he cannot stop. He picks up speed until his skis hook into a snowbank, and down he goes.
Falling is easy. Zuko's learned that by falling for Katara again and again, when she wrinkles her freckled nose and swims circles around him in the summer and waterbends their dishes clean. He's used to falling for Katara, so that part of skiing doesn't bother him. It's the getting back up that he's not used to.
Even Katara grows frustrated with his pathetic attempts to regain his footing. She tries to conceal her impatience, but Zuko senses it boiling over when he accidentally pulls her down after grabbing her extended hand.
"I'm slowing you down," Zuko huffs, but softens at Katara's apologetic face. "Go ahead. By the time you reach the bottom and ride the lift back to the top, I'll figure out how to stand."
"You'll be fine alone?"
"Yes," Zuko lies. Struggling alone is better than having her watch him flail to find solid footing. Katara brushes his cheek with a kiss, and off she flies, slaloming as if she was born in the snow. Oh wait… It's not like she has an unfair advantage here or anything.
Snowboarders whizz down the hill, carefully maneuvering away from Zuko, who hauls himself up by sheer force of will. He peers down the slope, sighing when he realizes he's barely made progress on his descent. There are still thousands of feet to fall, and hundreds of bruises to claim. But he better start moving if he wants to make it to the lodge in time to enjoy a cup of tea before Katara drags him back outside again.
Tentatively, he pushes off, using his poles to propel himself forward. His skis keep pointing in different directions as if repelled by each other. His legs quiver at the effort required to wrangle his skis into facing the same direction. Miraculously, though, he's moving forward. And he's growing steadier with each switchback. This could be worse, he admits with a hint of pride. At least he's not freezing to death out here.
He has to admit that Katara picked out a great jacket to keep him warm. She prefers lighter layers, claiming the cold energizes her, but selected the thickest down to shelter Zuko from the mountain breeze. Although at the rate he's sweating from the exertion of the whole exercise, the coat might be too warm for Zuko. He catches himself wishing the clouds circling above would open up and dump their cargo of snow on his head to cool him down.
"Hey, Sparks." The taunt is accompanied by a splash of snow as Sokka skids to a crawl beside him. "You're up!"
"Of course I'm up."
"Moving like a lion turtle, but still going. Thought you would've given up by now."
"This isn't so— hard," Zuko says, but turning to scowl at the Water Tribe boy breaks his concentration on the slope ahead. His skis collide with each other and send him tumbling face first into a snowdrift.
Sokka's laughter rings through Zuko's ears as he shakes the powder from his hair. "Not so hard, huh?" Sokka pivots sharply, picking up speed as he flings himself down the mountain.
"Showoff," Zuko mutters at his retreating figure.
"Chicken-pig," Sokka hollers up the slope.
Not one to let an insult slide, Zuko hoists himself up, clinging to the flimsy aluminum pole for dear life. His knees are nearly touching, and he's hunched over like an old man, but he's upright. Barely.
What did he do to anger the gods of water so badly? Oh, right. He's a firebender. Water and fire don't mix. Except in his case. Together, he and Katara might be able to conquer anything, even this snowy slope.
Sure enough, Katara's already caught back up to him. She flushes when he stares admiringly at her. "What? The lift ride was short. It was easy to catch up with you."
"I'm that easy to beat, huh?"
"Yes!" she laughs. "Race you to the bottom?"
His thighs ache, but Zuko can't refuse. He loves seeing his waterbender in her element. She's so natural on the slopes, flourishing in the subzero temperatures. It's painful for him, sure, but his heart warms at the sight of her navy scarf fluttering down the slopes ahead of him. She dodges every pine gracefully. Zuko struggles to gain momentum, but he doesn't have to slow and maneuver away from each tree the way Katara does. A quick blast of fire, and each tree that dares impede his path down the mountain is no longer an issue. He doesn't dare say it, but Zuko thinks he might be starting to get the hang of this skiing thing. That is, until a yelp from the bottom of the mountain nearly startles him off balance.
It sounds like the cry of an injured catgator, low and mournful at first, then increasing in pitch and ferocity. Once the sound reaches Zuko's ears, he shudders. What could that be? Too uncertain on his feet to increase his pace, he continues his slow slog down the hill. At least he manages to stay upright.
As the slope evens off before the lodge, he sees a crumpled blue form at the bottom of the ridge. Because the figure's surrounded by a cluster of people, Zuko can't make out who it is. Could it be…? No, Katara knows how to ski. She couldn't crash so hard she couldn't get up. Could she?
A bead of sweat rolls down Zuko's forehead, and his skis start to stick in the slushy snow forming underneath them. Must stay cool, he reminds himself, but it's easier thought than done. The idea of Katara lying twisted on the ground twists his stomach. The yards between him and the fallen figure stretch endlessly. He must get there quickly, but how?
He doesn't have much dignity left to preserve after this morning on the mountain. The next time his skis catch in the slush, Zuko is ready. He tucks his head, rolling head over heels down the mountain. Faster and faster he tumbles, the puffy coat and powder protecting him from harm. Finally, agonizingly, Zuko pulls out of the roll at the bottom of the hill. Spitting out a mouthful of ice, he pops off his skis— his knees won't unbend after hours of squatting— and hobbles towards the crowd.
Pushing his way past the snowboarder called Meng, Zuko reaches the source of the wailing… and breathes a sigh of relief. Thank Agni that it's Sokka curled up in pain rather than Katara. "Got going too fast?" the firebender teases.
"My knee!" Sokka howls once he spots Zuko.
The woman holding an ice pack to his leg winces at the shout. She's bundled up in white, and readjusts her furry earmuffs when her patient continues moaning. "Yue," she says by way of introduction to Zuko.
"Thank you for your aid," he replies. "His sister should arrive soon. She'll be able to heal him."
"I'm not going to make it that long!" Sokka says. "Find Suki so I can say goodbye to her before I bleed out."
"You're not even bleeding!" Yue snaps.
"Then I'll starve before Katara gets here! She just looooves letting me waste away."
Zuko scans the mountainside for Katara's blue jacket. There are too many specks dotting the mountain for him to determine her position. Time to sit and wait. Zuko prays to the gods that he doesn't give into his urge to strangle Sokka. The sounds emerging from his throat are practically begging Zuko to put him out of his misery.
Ten minutes pass. Then another ten. Sokka's cries have faded to whimpers. Yue's long gone, having passed the ice pack off to Zuko. His hand has lost feeling minutes ago, but he still presses the pack to Sokka's knee. Where is Katara? Hadn't she beat Zuko down the mountain? Maybe she bypassed the crowd and rode the lift back up for another run, but it wouldn't be like Katara to pass by someone in need without stopping to help.
"How did an expert on ice like you fall, anyway?" Zuko asks.
Sokka sighs. "Oh, just thought I saw a turtle seal down the hill. It would've tasted so good after a long day on the slopes!"
"You… hurt yourself over some meat? You know the lodge serves food, right?" Zuko's incredulous. That boy's appetite will kill him someday. He probably imagined the turtle seal in a hunger-induced hallucination.
The smell of something delicious wafts by Zuko… Chocolate? What he wouldn't give for a warm drink right about now. He sniffs again, convinced this scent can't be a figment of his imagination. Before his eyes, Katara and Suki saunter out of the lodge, disposable cups in hand.
"What's taking them so long?" Zuko hears Suki wonder.
Katara shrugs. "I mean, Zuko might be on that mountain until sundown, but I thought Sokka would've made it down by now."
"He better hurry, or I'll finish off his hot cocoa, too!" Suki giggles.
"Issit Suki?" Sokka mumbles at the sound of laughter, delirious with pain. "Sweet angel, take me now!"
Zuko's been straining his eyes watching the white ridge while Katara's been warming up in the lodge? The unfairness of it all causes Zuko to shout more sharply than intended: "Over here!"
Katara's eyes widen when she spots Zuko huddled over her brother. "What did you do?" she yelps.
"What did I do?" Zuko repeats, disbelief creasing his brows. "I've sat here for the last half hour listening to Sokka groan like a pregnant rabaroo, icing his leg, and waiting for you!"
"Oh spirits," Katara sighs, thrusting the mug into Zuko's hands. "I'll take it from here." She strips off her mittens and reaches to unbutton Sokka's ski pants. He opens his mouth to complain, but one glare from Zuko silences him. Suki circles around her boyfriend to hold his hand as Katara presses both hands around Sokka's knee.
"Oof," she winces as she prods gingerly at his leg with a steady stream of water. "Feels like… something's snapped."
"Snapped?!" Sokka squeaks. Zuko's vision swims a bit at the thought. What sort of dangers had he been exposing himself to on the mountain? He'd take a straightforward combat situation over this snowy nonsense any day. At least he'd know what he was getting himself into.
Katara's cold hand on Zuko's wrist, touching that space between glove and sleeve, grounds him. Shaking his head, he focuses on Sokka, whose face is turning a shade of unagi green.
"You gotta fix me, K'ara, you gotta!" Sokka slurs. When Katara gathers another clump of snow to bend around Sokka's leg, he thrashes away from her grasp. "Too cold!"
Sighing, Katara leans over to Suki. "Can you knock him out?"
"With pleasure! Ty Lee taught me a few tricks." The Kyoshi Warrior smiles at her boyfriend ever so sweetly before tapping his neck, stomach, and knees in rapid succession. Before he can complain, Sokka falls limp.
"Much easier to heal him when he's not resisting it," Katara smiles, and she settles into the snowbank. "Hold down his shoulders, will you?"
Half an hour later, Sokka's knee is good as new. "All his tendons are knitted back together," Katara reports, wiping off her wet hands and pulling back on her mittens.
"I'm surprised this happened to Sokka," says Suki. "He kept bragging that he grew up on skis."
Katara snorts at this; Zuko joins in with a chuckle.
"The funny thing is," Suki continues, "I totally thought it would be Zuko in need of medical attention by the end of the day!"
Zuko's chuckle dries in his throat, shooting a glare at Suki. The headlines flash through his head: "Fire Lord Falling," "Zuko Zips His Way to the Hospital." One documented accident, and he'd be the laughingstock of the Four Nations. Better Sokka than him, he decides.
Upon waking up, Sokka retreats to the lodge, limping despite Katara's expert healing. Zuko suspects it's partly for show, but Suki eats it up. Fawning over her "brave little warrior," she coaxes him indoors with the promise of a chili dog for a late lunch. Zuko wonders if he whined half as much as the Water Tribe boy, would Katara bribe him with chili? She'd probably tell him to suck it up. The thought makes him grin and wrap his arm around his girlfriend.
"Thank you," Katara says, once they're alone in the snowbank. "For not killing Sokka. He's such a baby with pain."
The resort lights flicker on, lighting up the icy crystals collecting on the well-worn ski paths. Zuko has to admit, the mountain looks pretty this time of afternoon. That doesn't mean he wants to ski it, though.
"Thank you for healing him. And for… you know, making me ski."
"You're thanking me for torturing you?"
Zuko blushes. "It wasn't all bad. I mean, it wasn't fun or anything. But if you want to come back next winter and show me more of your tricks…"
Katara arches a brow in reply. Then she moves in to kiss him, warming him to the tips of his ski boots. "How about next week?"
"If you kiss me like that again, we can come back tomorrow."