Katara. I love you.
Zuko hoped desperately that her caressing hand was nowhere near the throbbing pulse on his neck; hoped she couldn't notice how he flinched at the gentleness of her touch clashing with the scarred roughness of his scarred skin.
When push came to shove, there Prince Zuko was: kicking, punching hurling streaks of flame from his heels and fists. Yet a split second of hand-to-face contact rendered him immobile, afraid to move, afraid to take a breath.
She touched his face. Who would? That hideous disfigurement that people turned away from before glimpsing the fire in his eyes. That arrogant sneer of a mask he cringed behind as he stiffened his shoulders and stomped on his fear in the face of adversity.
She touched his face. Not his mask. Somehow her hand had broke through the façade, made it dissolve at her fingertips.
I love you. Katara. I love you. I love you!
What was this? Where did that come from? Fear struck Zuko right then, fully paralyzing him where he stood. A fist clenched between his ribs, congealing his insides, his natural body heat disintegrating. His heart leapt into his throat. What's going on? he wondered frantically. What was possessing him? How did all his shields collapse so suddenly? What was this -- he had no control over this! First a touch of the hand -- it was nothing, really, just a slight touch -- and now….this, whatever it was. Whatever was going on, he had no control. And it scared him.
In retrospect, Zuko was able to rationalize it. She was a Waterbender. It was her powers that made him melt from the inside, nothing else. Plus, he hadn't expected her to actually do it; to touch him, attempt to heal him. She'd offered to heal him -- when was the last time he'd had an offer like that? When was the last time anyone had offered him compassion? That was what caught him off-guard. Nothing else.
But there was another thing; one that he'd only allow himself to think about late at night, in bed, when he was about to fall asleep, just teetering on the verge of consciousness. That thought that sprang to his mind; those words accompanying the tumult of feelings he couldn't put a word to. He'd thought... What had he thought?
Katara. I love you.
That was it. In the darkness of night, in the safety of bed, Zuko was able to admit to himself that that was what scared him the most.
Love. Like Katara's compassion, the word "love" had long become foreign to him. Unfathomable. Incomprehensible. He hadn't used that word, nor felt it, since… Since when?
I've not loved anyone since I lost mother.
To his indigence, his eyes burned with moisture, and he swiped at them before turning over, burying his face in his pillow.
Zuko scolded himself. How pathetic he was being. He'd always felt drawn to Katara somehow. When glimpsing her accompanying the Avatar. When at odds with her, her water melting his fire. When trapped with her, when… When bonding with her. Finding something they shared. A mutual loss, as well as…
There was a hard, swollen lump in Zuko's throat he couldn't swallow. Katara had made it clear that she despised the Fire Nation, and for good reason. It had taken her mother.
It was only at night, huddled in bed, that Zuko allowed the same hatred to course throughout him, pumping through his veins like venom stirring from his heart. This Nation he belonged to, what it stood for, what it did, to him, to…
To mother. It took her away from me.
His father epitomized the Fire Nation. His father, who didn't care if he, Zuko, lived or died. His father, who burned his own son within an inch of his life, permanently branding him with shame.
What had the Fire Nation given him? A massive scar that was certainly beyond healing. What had it taken away? His mother, the one person he loved above all else. The only one who'd ever loved him.
Not true, he reminded himself. There was Uncle Iroh. Uncle, who, like mother, had been there when no one else was. Who had looked after him with patient yet firm tolerance. Who Zuko had gotten close to; too close, in fact. They had a gradually strengthening relationship, the closest to a father-and-son rapport Zuko had ever had. It had been too good to be true. How long would it last? How long before he lost Iroh too?
How else to nip that in the bud other than to betray him? What else could he do? He had to betray him, for the sake of the path he felt was unavoidable, anyway. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. Right?
A sob constricted his throat, welled up inside him, but he did not submit to it. He would not. Shoving that thought aside, he went back to Katara.
Katara was a girl, a beautiful one at that. She was brave, she was intelligent, she was obviously a nurturing force in the life of the Avatar. At first glance, Zuko could tell: she was everything his mother, Princess Ursa, was. She was a dark-skinned, blue-eyed, Waterbending version of his beautiful, kind mother; his mother, who inhabited his dreams, singing and cradling him to sleep as he lay, a handsome, unscarred, blithe little boy.
Zuko cleared his throat and turned over again, looking at the ceiling. That was all there was to it. He was drawn to Katara because she reminded him of his mother. All he had to do was reprimand himself: You're being foolish. A pitiful child. Feeling at the mercy of a Waterbender. Where's you honor? Haven't you learned by now? She isn't coming back. Mother is never coming back, so forget about her. Forget about her. She's…
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden choking, rasping noise foreign to his ears, a steam of moisture issuing from his eyes. It took him a minute to comprehend that those noises and tears came from himself.
And in the darkness of the night, in the solitude of this room, this bed, he let go of all restraint. This was what he did: held it all in by day, let it all out at night. Tears still flowed freely as he drifted off to a fitful sleep.
There she was: Katara, encased in a soft, aquamarine radiance that framed her like an encompassing halo, the light taking shape behind her into what resembled shimmering wings. Eyes glowing clear cerulean, she extended her hand, and Zuko, in spite of himself, flinched at her touch.
"It's alright," she said softly, wiping his tears. "I can heal you. Come closer. I'll heal you."
Zuko gasped slightly as her lips, the coolness of her breath, alleviated the weight on his shoulders, as well as the rest of him; and he saw himself, healed, smooth-faced and handsome, reflected in her eyes like mirroring lakes.
"I love you, Katara."
"I love you, Zuko."