Disclaimer: All characters mentioned in this sequel are not property of Maddie: they belong to Mike and Brian, Avatar God-s.
Katara refused to leave her bed the next morning. Yesterday's events were too fresh in her mind: the sting of ice against her lips, the heat of embarrassment on her face, the abandonment of her dignity. The cool linen walls around her muffled the sounds of her companions' movement about the camp: Iroh's chuckles as he and Toph joked over their tea; Aang chasing Momo about the camp, apparently trying to claim back a peach that the lemur had stolen; the rhythmic thump split of Sokka's boomerang being tossed against a tree and wrenched back out of the bark again. She suspected that he too was still brooding over his sister's affinity with the prince.
It seemed to Katara that Zuko, like her, had chosen to lie in for the morning: none of the surrounding sounds suggested that he had chosen to rise. The familiar sound of rushing flame from Zuko's heavy practise blows could not be heard, even though the rest of the group were fairly quiet; and the prince's uncle didn't seem to be making conversation with anyone but Toph. A fire crackled quietly somewhere to her left, but she supposed that Iroh must have lit it.
Deciding that this was an opportunity to get away without chancing running into Zuko and having to deal with one of his flirtatious confrontations, Katara slid out of her blankets and, as quietly as possible, gathered her towels and her thick bar of prized soap. She had bought the cake of soap when they had passed through the last town: it had immediately become her most important possession. She made sure to ration it as much as possible so it would last her longer - she loved the feeling of clean, fresh skin, and preferred the scent of moon blossom to sweat and damp furs. Wrapping her tunic and leggings in the towel and tying it in a bundle across her back, she slid on her boots and crawled under the back flap of the tent, into the scrub. Making a note to herself to remove the sandy soil and crustacean claws from her breast-bindings, she scrambled quickly to her feet and darted into the thick, scratchy brush.
The plant life here was different to anything she had ever seen: completely opposite to the lush green foliage she was so used to seeing in the Earth Kingdom, the trees and bushes seemed suited more to the desert than a beach not far from dense jungle. Cacti sprouted hither and thither: clumps of prickly pear and a tall, black-spined plant that she could not remember the name for. The greens of the plants were musty, almost like they were so thickly encrusted with salt that their colour had faded. The leaves on the sandy-barked trees were thick and coarse against her skin as she brushed past them. She was glad for the earthy browns and mouldy greens, though: against her brown skin, they contrasted as perfect camouflage. If one of her friends happened to glance in her direction, she'd be well hidden. The brittle branches and tough leaves reduced the amount of rustling from the plants as she pushed her way to a cove she knew of, where she was sure no one would find her. Her plans for today were to disappear completely for as long as possible, and to use the excuse that she had spent the day practicing new Bending techniques. She had reasoned with herself late last night: attack was unlikely, because she knew for a fact that Azula had been summoned back to the Fire Nation by the Fire Lord; and she was sure that everyone back at camp could manage their own dishes, just this once. She knew that perhaps she would be reprimanded for disappearing without word of where she was going, but at least this would put everyone's minds off her little run in with Zuko's ice sculpture.
The soothing lap of waves against the sand and the brush of salty sea breeze against her bare arms and legs made her smile in spite of herself. Breaking though the ribbon of trees that encircled the cove, she dropped her bundle onto a flat slab of granite and dug her heels down into the sand. It wasn't the clearest of days: a wall of cloud crouched on the horizon, a steely band that promised rain for the morning. The sunlight that reached the beach was milky yellow, leeched of full colour because of the haze of cloud it competed with. The air was warm, however, and the azure waves were as enticing as ever. The water moved in ripples, knee-high mounds that had no caps on them. The water was lumpy: at least, that was how Sokka would have described it. With a small smile still gracing her lips, Katara glanced about to make sure she was alone, and then stripped off her cotton nightshirt and walked to the lukewarm water, shaking out her hair as she went.
It was a blessing, to wash the sweat and dirt from her skin and hair: she was tired of the greasy feeling so much salt on her skin left, and the thick mass of knots that was meant to be her hair. Humming to herself, she lathered oils into her hair and rinsed them out again, taking her own sweet time and listening to the birds that scampered among the brush or picked at crabs in the rock pools. She submerged herself in the water and shut her eyes, feeling the pulse of the waves press like a heartbeat against her. She flipped over and gazed through half-lidded eyes up to the surface, watching the clouds distort with the movement of the water. It was times like these that she could forget that there was a war going on, and that she was in the middle of it: that at fourteen she had chosen to become a fugitive, that her mother was dead, that her father could be absolutely anywhere in the world. Her hair, still soapy, swirled around her eyes and she brushed it back from her face, wanting to gaze at the sky longer, wanting to continue to breathe the serenity.
Only when she was certain that she could hold her breath no longer, and only when her lungs began to ache for air did she rise to the surface, gasping and pulling her sodden hair back from her face. The sand under her feet was soft as she walked back to the beach, feeling somewhat more positive than she had first thing that morning. Swiftly, she dried and dressed herself, Bending the water out of her hair but not tying it up: she loved the feeling of her hair on her face after it had been washed. Perhaps it would have been called vanity if she were a woman who swanned around court, but it was a real treat for her after so long without bathing. She pulled on her tunic, kilted up to reveal deep blue leggings. She bound her pants up at her knees and left her boots on the flat rock face, dipping her toes down into the swelling water by the rock pools. She amused herself for sometime, twirling her fingers to make a pool of water creep in and out of its pool, watching the resident crabs scuttle back and forth after the fish being thrown about by Katara's Bending. She giggled, swirling the water around in circles so the crabs spun on their spindly red legs in confusion, snapping their claws at the flying fish and tripping over one another. She was so immersed in teasing crabs that she didn't hear the crunching in the undergrowth behind her, or the chuckled stifled by a large, calloused hand. Katara only became aware of another's presence when said person flopped ungracefully down beside her, startling her so that she jolted up off the rock and splashed the puddle containing the fish across the rock face. She found herself gaping into the face of Zuko, who was smirking like a bird that had pooped all over a business man's clean suit.
"Hello, Katara."
Red in the face and trembling, Katara ignored his greeting and scampered to gather the gasping fish in her hands and drop them into another pool. The crabs, obviously flustered by the effort they were making to get their breakfast, shot off indignantly to find more food. Zuko, dressed in black breeches and a red tunic trimmed with gold, watched her expectantly. "You missed breakfast. Are you hungry?" He produced a roll filled with charred meat from his pocket. "Sorry about the black meat. Sokka was on cooking duty."
With a shaky smile she took it from him, mumbling a thank you and taking a tentative bite. Zuko continued to watch her as she ate, making her increasingly uncomfortable. Finally, after several minutes of shifting about and staring into the distance, she burst out, "WHAT?"
"I was watching you eat. Thought that maybe I'd make a sculpture out of it," he said matter-of-factly, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. Katara was so abashed that she forgot to retort: without even attempting a glare she looked away, feeding the last of her meat and bread to a passing gull. "Look, are you here to remind me of that incident? Because if you are, go away. I'm here to get away from that," she told him coldly, looking past his face rather than at him. He leaned to meet her gaze, raising his eyebrow and smiling.
"You want me to leave?" he asked, tilting his head to one side. She glowered at him.
"If you're here to tease me, yes."
He shrugged and leaned back, stretching his long arms behind his shaggy-haired head with a long sigh. "Oh well, I guess I can stay, then." Katara decided that this was even more disturbing than him teasing her.
"But…"
He squinted at her through his good eye, the other shut contentedly. "Yes?"
"But won't you be needed at camp?" she asked quickly, trying to think up an excuse to make him go away. "I mean: your uncle, he might want to…play Pai Sho, or…or spar with someone." She smiled lamely, and he turned his head away, closing his eyes and smirking.
"He's got the kids there to entertain him," he yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. Katara swallowed, trying to moisten her dry mouth.
"But if you're missing…"
"You're missing too, remember? You've been missing since before breakfast. Are you worried they might think that something's going on between us?" he asked, barely suppressing his laughter. Katara reeled backward, away from him, glaring. "No!"
"Then what's the problem?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to…have some alone time," she confessed, tucking her legs underneath her and staring out to sea. One of the crabs she had been teasing scuttled onto her lap and began to feed on the crumbs from her roll. She gripped its clawed front legs and set it gently down, careful not to crush it when she shifted to get more comfortable. "I don't get a lot of time to myself these days."
"Why do you think I meditate so often?" Zuko asked, still with his face turned away from her, eyes closed beneath his mop of black hair. "It's a time to get away from everyone, see? No one interrupts me." He twisted to look at her. "I could teach you, if you'd like."
"Me?"
"Well, I didn't just offer lessons to that seagull."
"I-" Katara pondered the thought. There'd be no harm in learning how: it'd probably benefit her Bending ability. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt, would it?"
"Of course not." He sat up and dragged himself over next to her. Taking her knees in his big hands, he forced her legs into a crossed position. "There. Now, rest your palms on your knees, or in your lap: where ever is comfortable and you are least likely to think about them." Katara obeyed, and looked at him for approval.
"Like this?"
"Like that. Now-" he sat behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Relax your muscles. Breathe. In, then out, in, then out…with me. Ready? Clear your mind of all thought, just relax completely."
Katara tried her best, she really did: but having the prince sit directly behind her, his hands on her shoulders and his breath in her ear did not assist in her relaxation. Her heart sped up so fast she was surprised it didn't just pop right out; her blood raced, her mind flashed with a thousand pictures and fairytales at once…she didn't even realise that her hands had begun to sweat and her breath had quickened to a point that she was almost hyperventilating. Zuko, upon noticing her condition, decided that this was the perfect opportunity to play with her mind.
"Katara?" he breathed, gently, into her ear. "What's wrong?"
"I-I….uh…"
"You were doing this so well, Katara….why are you suddenly so nervous?" His malicious grin broadened when she trembled. "Is it me? Am I too….close?"
"I…huh?" she stuttered, looking down at her wet hands. Oh yuck, she was sweating like a pig… "No! No, I must just be…overtired…"
"Oh, of course," smiled Zuko leaning into her back, craning his neck so his chin rested over her shoulder. "I'm tired, too…must have stayed up too late last night." He snuggled into her neck, knowing she liked it, and loving the way her breath caught in her throat when he did so.
"Zuko, what-"
"Katara, why did you make that pretty sculpture of me?" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and his eyebrows jolted upward when he smelt the tang of her soap. Her hair, silky from her shampoo, tickled his cheek.
"What?" Katara was genuinely confused by Zuko's behaviour. Was this some kind of sick joke Toph had put him up to? "I made one of everyone."
"But you kissed mine. Why my sculpture? Why not…Aang's?" He could sense her frown, and feel the tensing of her shoulders.
This question had her even more flustered. What was he talking about? "Because…well…"
"Do you like me?" he asked, his smile predatory as he raised his head from her shoulder and spun her around to look at him. "Is that why you kissed mine, Katara?"
"What is wrong with you?" she asked, bewildered. Anger welled in the pit of her stomach, along with uncertainty: she didn't want to say anything if this was some kind of prank. She did not want to confess to him only to find that he had been put up to it.
"Katara?"
"Who put you up to this, Zuko?" she asked, finding the courage to look him directly in the eye. He seemed shocked at her change of mood, and her confrontation. "What?"
"Who put you up to this?" she repeated. He frowned.
"No one. I was taking a walk, and decided to clear a few things up with you when I saw you here." He sniffed and scratched behind his ear, every inch of him casual, his flirtatious mood gone. She watched him carefully, looking for signs of discomfort. He showed none, and there was a seriousness in his amber eyes. "Why would I do that kind of thing, anyway? I'm not interested in carrying out childish pranks for your friends." He saw her look and immediately looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. Our friends."
"So…what was all of that, before?" she asked, still puzzled as to why he was here.
"I told you. I wanted to clear a few things up with you." He rubbed his scarred eye and yawned. "I think I really did stay up too late last night."
"Clear up what?"
"You ask too many questions." He smiled at her, amber eyes crinkling up in a way that made him even more attractive. She looked down at her hands, wiping them on her knees to rid them of sweat. "I wanted to know why you were….attached to that sculpture."
"I-" Part of her gave up and begged to tell him: the other, larger part of her gripped firmly onto denial. "It was an accident."
"An accident, was it? You just accidentally managed to get your lips glued onto the lips of my sculpture?" His mouth curled into a smirk, his eyebrows raising incredulously. Beginning to get annoyed by the way he was so sure of himself, Katara snapped back, "Yes!"
"How?"
She was stuck there. How on earth could she have accidentally gotten it stuck on her mouth?
"I…was leaning to scratch my leg, and it was on my lap: my face got stuck to it. I wasn't making out with an ice sculpture or anything…it was an accident," she huffed, turning her reddening face toward the ground. She was a terrible liar: she either giggled or flushed red when she attempted to fib, even over the smallest things.
Zuko laughed, "Oh, of course." He glanced up at the darkening sky: in the time they had sat on the beach, the band of grey in the distance had lengthened into a sheet of ominous storm cloud. With a sly glance in her direction, he commented lazily, "We may be in for a storm tonight. A bad one, by the looks of things." She stared upward, and shrugged. "Maybe…I can't really tell which way it's headed."
"Should we get back?" he wondered, more to himself than to her.
"Probably. There'll be help needed tying things down," Katara sighed, and began gathering up her things. Zuko stood, brushing sand off his black training pants, and offered her a hand. Ignoring him completely, Katara slung her bag over her back and started off without him. He watched her thoughtfully, a smile tugging at his mouth. He liked teasing this one a lot: it took him back to the years where he would tease Ty Lee and Mai when Azula wasn't around. And he had to admit that she wasn't that bad…she had such nice skin, and her hair was-
"Are you coming, or what?" she inquired exasperatedly. When he nodded, she rolled her eyes. "Hurry up, then!"
Yes, he thought, she's very interesting indeed.
The storm struck, as Zuko had predicted, around evening. The odd group had been sitting around the flames in near-silence, all revelling in their own thoughts, when an almighty crack had sounded about the clearing, and a thread of white lightening shot across the bulging, purple clouds. The rain promptly followed suit: without warning that it was coming, it began to bucket down, soaking the group in a matter of seconds as they ran for their tents. Katara jumped to her feet and flung an arm over her head, fumbling with the ties on her tent flap and cursing. She threw herself into the tent, spluttering and Bending the water from her clothes and hair.
"I may be a Waterbender, but this storm is a curse," she growled, flicking the ribbon of water out into the weather.
"Hey!" snapped a voice, and a tall shape darted into her tent after apparently catching the water she had thrown outside. Katara stepped back in surprise, and then frowned.
"Zuko, what are you doing in here?" she asked, raising her arms to Bend the moisture out of his clothes, as she had done with her own. The boy smiled his thanks, and tied the flaps shut. He only answered her after he had Bended the lantern hanging from the ceiling into life. "I was making sure you weren't afraid."
"What?" she scoffed, pulling her hair into a plait. "I'm not scared."
"Oh?" he asked, a smirk creeping onto his pale, pointed face. "Are you sure, Katara?"
"Of course I'm sure, I-" she gasped, and the rest pf her retort was lost as she turned to find him standing no more than a foot from her. The smirk growing wider still, he slid his arms over her waist and held her into him.
"What were you saying?" he asked. She attempted a death glare.
"I was saying that I am NOT afraid of the storm, I've never been scared by…storms…"
He was watching her intently, and she felt strange being so close to him. He was warm, and soft, and…
He pressed his lips down onto hers as gently as possible, and she could feel him smiling against her. She almost jumped backward in surprise, her eyes becoming the size of saucers as he let her go.
"Oops," he murmured, "I slipped."
"Oh…" she whispered, staring at him in confusion. He pulled his arms tighter and kissed her again, a little more insistently, and this time she wound her arms around his neck and let him kiss her with no objection.
"Just…an accident," he mumbled between kisses. "Sorry…my mistake…"
She silenced him with a hard, hot kiss, holding him flush against her: a hand on the back of his head, another hand groping about his back, she felt him tangle his fingers in her hair, and then he slid his hands lower over her back…
The tent flap was wrenched open and another figure leapt inside, dripping water onto the floor. "Katara, are you okay? I was worried when I heard the thunder, I thought maybe-" Sokka stopped abruptly and stared, open-mouthed, at the scene before him. "Maybe that you were…scared….WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SISTER?"
Zuko leapt back at the same time as Katara; deer caught in the headlights.
"Sokka, we were just-" floundered Katara, smoothing down her dress and wiping her mouth. "We were-"
"It was an accident," said Zuko quickly. Sokka rounded on him.
"AN ACCIDENT? YOU WERE EATING MY SISTER! HOW IN THE NAME OF YUE IS THAT AN ACCIDENT?"
"I slipped, see. We were just setting ourselves right when you came in and made false accusations-"
With a was cry that made the ground shake, Sokka pulled his boomerang from his belt and wielded it threateningly. Advancing on the older boy, his icy eyes sent daggers his way. "You are SO dead."
"Sokka! Leave him alone! It was an accident!" Katara cried, leaping between the two. Sokka looked at her confusedly, while Zuko watched in amusement. "He….he slipped. The ground was wet and slippery…" She smiled shakily and shrugged. Sokka studied her sceptically, and then his eyes shot to the Prince's.
"It had better have been an accident, for your sake," he snarled, and then whipped around and strode from the tent. Zuko watched him through the door, and then shut the flap.
"Nice save. Interesting excuse, but it worked all the same…" he chuckled, and then seized her arms and pulled her forward to meet his lips. She pulled away and shook her head. "Zuko, if Sokka comes in again-"
"I'm sorry. It was an accident, Katara." He pecked her on the cheek. "So was that." Backing her into a corner and gripping her chin, he kissed her square on the lips. "And that."
"You are impossible," growled Katara, but she couldn't help the grin forming on her face.
"I know. Now, shut up and stand still: I think I'm going to slip again."
The next morning, when she woke to smile at the boy lying on a mat on her floor, Katara could only hope that her brother would believe that this, along with the red marks on her neck, were "accidents". It was either that, or Zuko had a long run ahead of him.