He hadn't expected to see her.
More importantly, he hadn't expected to see her here. Here in time. Here in place.
Contusions blossoming over his arms and legs, he lay prostrate before her. His bottom lip was swollen, parting to let in an aperture of air or novelty or hope or something fantastical. Her hair was neatly tucked into a proper Fire Nation coiffure, and her hands were hidden in a mass of elaborate silk. Her lips were pursed to speak, but apparently she didn't know what to make of him. What had first been sympathy descended into confusion and then-
Anger.
At him? Well, she had every right to leave him be. She was calling more attention to herself than was appropriately safe. And there was also the matter of his ignominious betrayal. Hell, she might as well slit his throat here and now. And kick him.
"What's going on here?" Her voice lilted gently in the night air.
The villagers stared. Two men with swords looked at each other, and one kicked a piece of parchment to Katara's feet. Gingerly, she picked it up.
"So, Li, you've gotten yourself into another mess, have you?" She breathed.
What?
"Your father's been looking for you, idiot. We should get back before he fricassees both of us. But…" She knelt down next to him.
"So, you all thought Li here was Zuko, prince of the Fire Nation?" Her voice had risen an octave.
The villagers exchanged befuddled looks.
"Well, if you haven't figured it out by now, he's not." She stood up, her brows knit in something like fury. "Who is responsible?"
"You… you mean to say, miss, that this isn't Prince Zuko?" One rotund woman blurted.
"This dolt? My cousin? Of course not!"
A symphony of retorts and private mumblings crescendoed.
"But-"
"It has to be…"
"She's lying!"
"The scar… it can't be a coincidence!"
Katara raised her hand. "This isn't the first time that Li's been mistaken for Zuko, but the sort of violence you've inflicted on him is ludicrous! A burn scar shouldn't be enough to incur guilt! Common sense, or civility, or humanity even, dictates that you at least hear him out. This-" She pointed at Zuko. "This is not justice. This is madness! You stake an innocent life for what? For the sake of government propaganda? Why?"
"He-Zuko- is wanted dead, apparently." Zuko's voice pierced through the night for the first time.
Katara glanced at him, her composure unwavering. "Make no mistake, Li's father will hear about this!" She cried. The two men with swords exchanged confounded looks and then retreated into the safety of the throng.
Katara knelt down again and placed Zuko's arm around her shoulder. Supporting his weight as best as she could, Katara took him away from the limelight, leaving the villagers in a fervent brew of altercations and accusations.
"I'm taking you to the river. I can use the water to heal you," Katara mumbled. Zuko gave no response. A thousand questions ran through his mind. A thousand questions and a thousand tragedies.
When they reached the river, she summoned a sliver of water to her hand; she held it up to his face.
"You could probably kill me right now," he muttered. He would have laughed, but delirium mandated otherwise.
She didn't respond.
"So why are you helping me instead?"
She didn't respond.
"Why are you-"
"Shut up."
He did.
Patches of his skin still swollen, Zuko felt sore, but he was incontrovertibly better. She sat placidly against a tree, her arms encircling her knees.
"How are you feeling?" She ventured.
"Like shit."
"But not as bad as before?"
"No. That was feeling like shit running laps in hell."
"Right."
He stared at his palms, picking at the aftermath of healed lacerations: shreds of skin which still hung laxly here and there. The healed skin was distended, but that was preferable to the gore which was oozing out half an hour ago. Strangely, he still felt anemic.
"I suppose I have a sort of prerogative to ask why you're alone?" Her tone was casual, blithe, but she was frowning.
"I suppose you have a prerogative to ask whatever questions you want, but I have a prerogative to say that it's none of your business."
"Right."
"But I guess it's in your interest to know that my sister and I have parted ways."
"Right. So she left you for dead?"
"For a miracle-worker you ask stupid questions."
"I'm no miracle-worker. If you're looking to thank someone, look to serendipity. And my stupid heart, I guess." She turned away. "In any case, I did my part in keeping you alive."
"What?"
"Well, now I don't know what to do with you. I certainly don't trust you."
"Agreed."
She lay on the ground. "And I might kind of hate you. I'm not sure. I'm too tired."
Zuko gazed at her cascades of fabric. Her hair had fallen into unkempt disarray, and she had shed her sandals by the tree. Her feet looked curiously destitute, whether from travel or battle he could not decipher. With fingers trailing into the shallows of the river, she seemed completely at ease, but eerily ethereal.
"Have you been traveling?" he prodded.
"Yeah."
"I see. And you've been passing as a Fire Nation citizen?"
"More or less."
"You're here for espionage purposes, I assume?"
She chuckled. "Hardly."
"Then why are you here?"
"Seeing as I'm your rescuer, I should be the one asking questions."
"There's not much to know," he paused. "I'm an idiot, and I made a slew of idiot decisions."
"I'm not going to argue with that." She sighed and sat up. "Listen, I've become more and more a believer in second chances and all that slop, but I don't know. I don't know what to make of you, what to do with you… I really just don't know. But what I do know is that you're not a complete idiot. You're just naïve."
He snorted.
"Or you could be ingeniously clever, and all of this is part of a plan to capture the Avatar. Then I would be the idiot for helping you." She bit her lip. "It's strange to think about sympathy as a fault."
"Thankfully, I'm not that low."
"In any case, Zuko, it might be in your interest to know that your uncle misses you."
"After everything, I thought he was done. With me I mean."
"Well, he isn't." She paused, squinting thoughtfully. "I guess I'll take you to him. Where you go from there is none of my business."
"Where is he?"
"With Aang. With the Avatar."
"And you're going to willingly take me to the Avatar?"
"Think of it this way: you're now my prisoner, and the Avatar will decide your fate. Or at least how many spankings your Uncle gets to give you."
"So, why aren't you with them?"
"That's none of your business."
"Fair enough."
Eons (or hours) later, he spoke to the moon as it kissed the crown of the world.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I know," he could have sworn he heard it answer.
A/N: Back in action, folks. Not sure what I'm going to do with FK- my apologies!
I'm sure many of you were pissed about the finale. Personally, I was upset, but I have hope for the next season… and I got to writing this.
So, ladies and gents, get your Zutara fix right here! I hope to get the entire fic done before Season 3 premiers. An ambitious goal, but I plan to see it through!