Zutara Week 2017, Day 7: Starlight

Note: This contains hints of Kataang and Maiko because it's meant to be more canon-aligned than my other Zutara Week submissions. As noted in the other two, this is being posted after Zutara Week actually happened because I forgot to crosspost.

Dimness had fallen over the courtyard, the deep night sky casting blue light against the warm glow of torches and shimmering across the surface of the turtleduck pond. Katara could see him sitting at the edge - the Fire Lord, still and silent and staring at something she could not see. Zuko.

"You've been out here for hours…" she started, he voice gentle and prodding. (Are you okay? goes the line, the natural course, but Zuko was not okay - words weren't necessary to figure that out.)

No response came. No response was needed.

The grass was soft as her knees hit the ground beside him, one hand tentatively resting on his back. She could feel the knotted tension in his muscles and the way their strain gave way to her touch in silent acceptance, though his eyes never left the rippling surface of the pond. Katara watched as the starlight stretched and twisted around the turtleducks, shimmering and settling and swirling again.

So many years had passed between them, so much had changed, yet the pull of loss was heavy between them. Their faces were now lined with decades left behind, but as her eyes lifted to his nightlit face, she saw the same boy who made her heart flutter treacherously in the crystal catacombs, the one who gave her the closure she so desperately needed when facing her mother's killer. He had once been the face of the enemy, but now his face represented the greatest leap of positive reform in his nation's history, reaching across borders to clasp hands with a world his family had nearly burnt to ash.

His uncle had been with him through it all, but that evening, Iroh had been laid to rest, body bathed in flames as those who knew him best were left feeling cold. Katara could feel the pain radiating, almost tangible in the air, and no matter how full Iroh's life had been, she felt a hole in her own heart at his absence - could only imagine the gaping chasm in Zuko's.

Words danced at the tip of her tongue, platitudes about how proud Iroh had been of his nephew, how deep that love had gone, but they fell back in her throat, silenced by the cool stillness of the courtyard, however sincere.

Instead her fingers brushed up to rest between his shoulderblades, tangling loosely in the silk-soft hair falling over his shoulders and down his back. Each touch was tentative, almost self-conscious and all too aware of the thin line they tread, the lives they led. She could not betray Aang - neither of them could - nor would honor permit him to betray his own wife, yet her buzzing mind betrayed her still, even now. The age of raging hormones had long-since passed, and she had assumed that rush would pass with it - yet now, well into middle age, she wasn't sure if she hated the feeling or hated the fact that she could help relishing that quiet closeness.

He turned his face to hers, expression unreadable, but as her other hand reached to cup the scar on his face, something in his amber eyes seemed to crack, and as his eyes closed, the subtle flickers on his face broke her heart. Her thumb traced the line of his scar, fingers near-trembling as she withdrew them again. All she wanted was to ease the ache, to carry even a little of the weight on his shoulders. With a wave of abandon, she shifted back and threw her arms around his neck, form flush against his back with her face burying in the crook of his neck. She felt him startle, settle, slump back into the hug, and she held tighter.

I love you. "He loved you so much. The road was rocky, but you are a remarkable leader, and he was prouder than anyone."

"I didn't deserve him." For a moment, Zuko sounded so much younger, strained and lost, shaken and far more vulnerable than she had seen him in years.

"That isn't true, and you know it," she said, her voice gentle and stern as she unhooked her arms from his neck. "Now come here, you." Tugging at his shoulders, she leaned in for another hug, this time pulling him to his knees for a proper hug as her arms snaked around his chest this time.

"I miss him." His breath was warm as it crept down her neck, leaving little goosebumps in its wake.

"I know."

"I'm a grown man. I feel so pathetic right now."

"Having feelings about your uncle's passing isn't pathetic," she objected into his shoulder, hugging a little tighter. "Feelings are a beautiful and wonderful thing."

Zuko was silent for a beat, his face lifting just enough to rest against her temple, nose brushing her hair. "...I know...I know they are. I don't know, I just…"

"It's okay," she said when he had fallen quiet again, the sad hint of a smile flickering at the edge of her lips. "You don't have to know right now."

Closing her eyes, she felt the press of his nose as he nodded, and although the embrace was passing the point of social appropriateness, she couldn't will her arms to unlock. Pressed to his chest, she could feel the soft pattering of his heart, a little quicker than normal and falling in time with her own. She wasn't sure how long they had been kneeling like that, frozen in time beneath the starlit sky, but as she felt him stir subtly, it was like pulling back from a warm, pleasant haze - a feeling that pooled guiltily as he started to say something against her temple.

Whatever it was, she wasn't going to find out tonight.

"Zuko!"

The spell was wholly broken, each of them jerking slightly as their arms retracted to an appropriate distance, face flushing a little more brightly than either would have liked. It was a hug, she reminded herself, trying to drain that growing feeling of guilt, but her eyes found his mouth, and all she could think about was the way they had brushed against her temple just seconds before.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she let loose a mental lashing. Stupid, stupid, you are not some ridiculous teenager, stop acting like it. Just stop. When again her eyes opened, she saw Mai more clearly, standing with her arms crossed loosely across her chest. Katara thought it might be a scowl on the other woman's face, but even after all these years, she had trouble reading the subtleties of Mai's expressions. When their eyes met, Katara was pretty sure that flickering switch in demeanor was a scowl, but the ambiguity returned as Mai returned her attention to Zuko. She rested a hand on his back - he was standing, now - as if to nudge him back the way she had come.

"Have you been out here this whole time?" Katara heard the other woman say, her words drifting back to the pond, though Katara knew they were not meant for her. There was an edge of annoyance that made Katara cringe, biting back the urge to object, to remind Mai that it was Iroh's funeral - but if anything, she thought her words might make it worse. "Izumi wanted to see you before she went to bed. She was waiting for you."

Whatever exchange the couple went on to have, Katara didn't know - their voices quieted and began to fade sooner than their forms did, but as they reached the pillars, Zuko glanced back for a fleeting moment to meet her eyes, gracing a small smile that seemed to say 'thank you' before turning forward again, soon to disappear through the arching doorway.

A small smile of her own had etched itself on her face, but the ache in her chest twisted so tightly she could scarcely breathe, and when she lifted her eyes to the sky, the stars had splayed out into blurry splotches, dotted all across her vision. Clenching her eyes closed, she felt the salty burn as tears trickled down each cheek to her chin, from her chin to land on her loosely folded hands. Sucking in a surprised breath, she hastily wiped the treacherous evidence from her face, measuring each inhale and exhale until she had steadied.

"I love my husband," she whispered to herself, and it wasn't a lie, but every fiber in her being yearned to rewind back to that frozen moment, the raw feeling of connection, of being needed without reserve. Without distraction.

Once again, the stars were scattered with pinprick precision, sharp against the ink-black sky, and she let out a soft sigh as her fingers brushed along the surface of the pond, breaking those reflected stars into gentle ripples. They had seen, and they knew.

She loved her husband, but she was in love with someone she could never have.