A/N: Yeah, I've kind of been slowly growing into a Zukaang fangirl, in increments, and finally I find myself reading almost nothing but it because I simply feel like it. And then I got a small, silly idea and decided to write it out. So here it is, lulz. :D
Note: This takes place after Boiling Rock but before Southern Raiders. I don't know at what time, exactly, because the amount of days between the two is not easy to guess or know, but let's pretend that this works, heehee.
She doesn't trust him, not yet. Not quite. Her brother does, and Suki seems to, and Toph has since the beginning because of Iroh's influence and her lack of experience with the ex-prince. Ever Aang seems to trust him, even though – if anything – Aang has been the one targeted and hurt most by the prince's very existence.
It's like they have turned on her, all choosing to trust and forgive what she used to think was the enemy. Whom she pictures still is the enemy. She just doesn't understand. Why are they so trusting? Don't they know that he could betray them again, like he did to her before? Don't they realize that this could be a trap planned and set by the Firelord to worm into their group and find their weaknesses and…
And…
And Katara shakes her head, long brown hair falling out of its loopies and bun as she prepares for bed. She keeps her capped canteen of water on her at all times, unable to feel safe without it. Even now, as she paces out of her room at the Western Air Temple, she carries her bending water with her like a security blanket, her senses always on her toes after all that she has been through in her young life.
She hears murmurs, low and rough communicating with soft and gentle. She sneaks out of the hallway and hides behind a pillar to see who it is, although she already has a pretty good guess.
And Katara is proven right, like she often is about things. There, not thirty feet from her in front of a small bonfire is Zuko and Aang.
Her heart throbs, because she nearly fell for Zuko back in that cave at Ba Sing Se. She thought he had changed, thought that he might be he kind of person she could rely on besides the friends she had already made. She had hoped, at the time, that he might join their side and, maybe, just maybe, become something more than a friend to her. She found, in that small moment when they were surrounded by crystalline green light, that he could be someone she fell in love with. Someone older and more mature than Aang, someone strong and capable, and someone who was her opposite. Opposite in nature, in element, drawn together like magnets and held together by a common factor: their lost mothers.
But no. It hadn't worked out that way, and to this very second, Katara feels hurt and distrusting of Zuko because of it. Besides, he used to always be after Aang. Aang, the Avatar, and a sweet boy she loved, and a boy she can't decide if she loves like a brother or son or if she loves romantically. In all honesty, she wishes that it were romantic if only because she doesn't want to be hurt by Zuko any longer. But using Aang as a distraction is wrong, and the waterbender knows it.
She knows. She knows many things, and one of which involves how wrong it is that Zuko has been added to their group, and yet… and yet how right it is, and how she knows it should have happened sooner. But she can't grow soft; she has to be diligent. Diligent. Or else, with her guard down, bad things might happen.
So she maintains her cold attitude around Zuko, and keeps her bending water slung around her shoulder at all times.
And this moment is no different, even as her thoughts whizz by in her brain and her fingers shake against the side of the pillar as she peers out to study what Aang and Zuko are saying, are doing. Even since their trip to the isle of the Sun Warriors, they've been like long-lost friends. As if nothing wrong between them had ever happened. It makes Katara dizzy. It just seems so... so… weird. She isn't used to this, to Zuko being around.
Not yet. Not quite.
The waterbender exhales gently, a quiet sigh, so not to make her presence known. She watches, waiting to see what Zuko will do, if he can be trusted alone with Aang. Everybody else who must have been around the fire, chatting – like Sokka, Suki, Toph, The Duke, Haru, Teo, perhaps her father – have gone to bed, and now the ex-prince and Avatar remain. She watches, because no one else will.
Zuko is talking, softly, and Aang is yawning and nodding, but it is obvious by his posture – curled on his side, his head on his arm, the other resting in front of his stomach – that the little bald monk is about to drift off to sleep. She's seen it many times.
Katara watches, bending water at the ready just inches from her fingertips, as Zuko turns his head to look at Aang, his face unreadable from a distance. She watches, because she knows no one else can. Because she knows she has to be diligent, her motherly instincts telling her to protect in case of danger.
She watches. Studying each move, in case one of them becomes an attack. She has to be careful, because what if Zuko takes advantage of Aang's weak state while he's asleep, and harms him? With flames or his bare hands, Katara doesn't care, because either means that she will leap out and freeze him in place. The moon is out tonight, and she can feel its power coursing through her veins.
Zuko runs a hand through his hair, his talking ceasing as he notices the calm rise and fall of Aang's chest, noticing like Katara that the tattooed boy is finally asleep. Aang always liked to sleep like that in front of a fire – he said that he liked the warmth. It was comforting, he had once said. It reminded him of better days, sitting in front of a firestove with Gyatso and steaming cups of tea.
She watches as Zuko's form seems to relax further, his shoulders slumping a bit and his legs, bent at the knees, sliding to his side as he leant on one palm near Aang's head. Katara makes sure that her thumbnail is placed under the cork cap of her canteen, in case Zuko makes a wrong move with that hand, or any part of his body. She doesn't want Aang to get hurt; never, ever again, not after Azula's lightning at Ba Sing Se. Never.
The firebender blows air out his mouth, almost a frustrated sound, and fidgets slightly. Katara frowns. What's up with him? she wonders. She leans into the shadows of the fire against the pillar more. She tilts her head to see clearer.
Zuko turns a bit, with his shoulders, and look at Aang again. His golden eyes are soft in the firelight, his expression still unclear, but not appearing hostile. Katara unknowingly removes her thumb from the cap, and lets it drop to the pillar. She watches.
Zuko seems to hum to himself, as if testing to see how deeply asleep Aang is. Then, sensing it safe, he scoots a bit closer, and Katara thinks, I knew he couldn't be trusted; just what is he doing? And she knows that he doesn't look hostile, but his sister is Azula and his father is Ozai, so that could make him just as good of a liar and have jus as good of a poker face as the aforementioned pair, but...
But…
But Zuko is lowering his eyelids, contemplating, while his free right hand (the one not supporting his weight) is coming around his front. His hand drifts towards Aang, and Katara nearly gets back in battle-ready position when she notices with a strange fascination that Zuko's hand is mostly open, only slightly curled, but limply so, like someone who is unsure of themselves. And the waterbender watches as that hand, Zuko's hand, reaches out and touches Aang's face, curving down the left side of his jaw in what appears o be the most feather-soft of touches.
Katara refrains from gasping, but her head recoils in surprise nonetheless. What is the meaning of this, such a sensitive and caring touch? It confuses her.
But what's more confusing is what Zuko does next.
She watches, a silent, lone witness hidden in the shadows. She watches as Zuko leans down, slowly, hesitantly, and brings his lips to graze one of the back points of the arrow on Aang's forehead. And she watches, frozen, as Zuko presses a kiss there, a kiss too warm-hearted and loving to be normal between friends, and impossible between enemies. If Zuko wanted to hurt Aang, or betray him, or steal information for his father while undercover, he would never do that. He would never caress the Avatar's face and kiss him so tenderly if he meant any harm.
Katara's body relaxes. She feels defeated. Because just before she turns away to return to her room for the night and to think over what she just saw, she sees one thing more: Zuko frowning to himself, his hairless brow on his left side twitching, and a tear gleaming in the firelight from his right eye. She sees his lips move, and though she tells herself not to try and read them, she does anyway. And she thinks she sees the formed words, "I wish" and "tell you" and "love", all mixed together in between other words.
'I wish I could tell you that I love you.'
Her mind pieces this together, and this time she can't hold back a gasp, but she does conceal it beneath a raised hand. And Katara flees, because this is unbelievable. She feels shocked and confused, but furthermore, she feels a little sad and relieved. Sad because she feels as though she lost both of them, and yet relieved because now she knows that Zuko's intentions for joining their group are pure.
She shakes her head, bewildered, as she climbs into her sleeping bag on her bed. Part of her knows that she needs one last shred of proof in order for her to forgive Zuko, and she knows that she'll have to pretend she never saw that in order to keep Zuko's secret. But this means that she will have to be just as snappy and cruel to him as she has been. And it hurts her, now, because she admits to herself that seeing Zuko acting so fondly towards Aang means that she and he can never be. But she doesn't know how Aang feels. Clearly Zuko fears rejection, knowing that his love is most likely unrequited, thus being why he only shows affection when Aang is sleeping and therefore unaware.
Still, she can't ignore the fact that this changes things. When the ex-prince's feelings for the Avatar started, she has no clue, because it could have been forever ago, an Zuko never realized it, or it could have been recently. She thought that he had somebody to love, that girl with the knives… Mai, was it? Katara thought that Zuko loved that girl. But it could have been a façade. Or, perhaps, he had been confused, thinking he loves one person when he in fact loved another.
Katara shakes her head again and burrows deeper into her cozy bag. Whatever the case, it doesn't matter. She is merely curious. But she knows this much: after what she witnessed tonight, she will never look at Zuko the same again.