Love Lives On

by IFeltHope44

Song-fic based on "Love Lives On" by Mallory Hope. Katara has to deal with the loss of her husband, Fire Lord Zuko. Story is a bit depressing, but the song is sad. I suggest you listen to it. Zutara...sorta.

Based on the song "Love Lives On" by Mallory Hope. I cry every time I hear this song. -_-'

I know how a lot of people feel about song fics. I hope this is better than some others I've seen.

I own nothing! Zuko, Katara, Ursa, Iroh, and anything else recognizable belong to Mike/Bryan/Nickelodeon! Mallory Hope owns the rights to her song "Love Lives On."

---

I reached for you this morning
Woke up with empty arms
Once again, it's sinking in
How far away you are

Fresh morning light pours through the cracks between the heavy velvet curtains of the royal palace, soft and bright and comforting. Katara, the Fire Lady to Lord Zuko, stretches in her bed, her long, caramel-colored arms reaching high above her head, then extending to the left where blankets stay undisturbed and pillows remain untouched, hoping to find the familiar touch of her husband's porcelain skin beneath her fingertips. As she finds no purchase, the lazy smile on her face disappears instantly: she remembers where he is and forces herself to accept it.

I still pour two cups of coffee
And tell you all about my dreamsThis kitchen's way too quiteYou should still be here with me

She shuffles abjectly down the halls, her feet bare and robes pulled tightly around her thin frame. Katara waves away servants, passing up massages and rare fruits, newly imported silks and manicures. Instead, she just drags her feet wearily to the kitchen where she is greeted with rounds of "Good morning, Lady Katara" and "What may we do for you, your highness?". She simply mutters their release, heading straight for the large brass kettles of coffee. She bends two cups of coffee, one for her and one for Zuko. Hers is decaf, of course; she must be cautious, for the baby's sake.

Katara leans against the edge of one of the long, shining counters, dumping a heap of sugar into her drink and swishing it around in the tall cup.

"I had a good dream last night," she whispers, her voice wavering. "I dreamed of that time you asked me to dance, right after your coronation. I remembered how mad Sokka was, and how we laughed at him. And I remembered our first kiss, exactly at day break. It was nice."

And even though I cry like crazy
Even though it hurts so bad
I'm thankful for the time god gave me
Even though he couldn't make it last

I'm learning how to live without you
Even though I don't want to
And even with you gone
Love lives on

She stares into her mug, the liquid inside rippling violently. Only then does she realize that her hands tremble and her sight clouds with tears. Salt water slips over her cheeks, betraying her, and splashes into her cup. She sobs in the quiet kitchen, alone, before dumping her untouched coffee down the sink and leaving Zuko's cup waiting on the counter. It will stay there until the cooks return later to prepare supper, when they will shake their heads and pour that, too, down the drain.

"I'm sorry, Zuko," she says, wiping the sleeve of her embroidered dress across her red, swollen eyes. "I love you."

I still call your mom on Sundays
Yeah, it's good to hear her voice
She always tells me that same story
About her stubborn little boy

Katara requests an audience with Lady Ursa. It is no more than a friendly meet, thought in truth, Katara only wants to have some sense of normality. Zuko and Katara had found Ursa after many moons of inquiry and interrogation, but they had succeeded. Not long after, however, Zuko left, leaving both women broken.

Ursa conceals her pain well.

Katara finds solace in her talks with Ursa. She knows that she cannot confide in others as she does with the former Lady of Fire. She sits and talks, while the other sits and listens.

"Come, dear," Ursa murmurs. "Zuko never liked it when someone he loved was suffering. You fare no different." She sighs. "What a stubborn child he was." Katara nods; her body shakes slightly. Before she knows it, she is crying once more, the floodgates opened and refusing to close.

And I kept your favorite t-shirt
You know the one I used to hate
Ain't it funny how it's the one thing now
I just can't throw away

Katara pulls a box from beneath her bed, running her trembling fingers over the intricate carvings and aged wood. She fumbles with the clasp before swinging the top open; she pulls out a worn, olive green cloak, from when Zuko and Iroh were hiding in Ba Sing Se as refugees. She has always hated the thing; she deems it unflattering and a reminder of the war. But, as she slips it over her head and huddles into her bed, she catches traces of his scent woven between the dreary fibers. She picks out that bit of spicy sweetness, mixed with wilderness and jasmine tea. It comforts her slightly, and she cannot bear to depart with it.

And even though I cry like crazy
Even though it hurts so bad
I'm thankful for the time god gave me
Even though he couldn't make it last

I'm learning how to live without you
Even though I don't want to
And even with you gone
Love lives on

Days pass quickly in Katara's state of depression, where the only feelings present are pain and loss and confusion. She knows it is not healthy, for neither her nor her unborn child; she cannot help it. She moves mechanically through the day, back straight and face blank, as she goes about her business as Fire Lady. It is not until the sun begins its journey below the horizon when she can let go. And even though her tears begin lessen as months drag by, not a day escapes before a tear slips over her mocha skin.

She comes with me on your birthday
Little flowers in her hand
She's always known that something's missing
But too young to understand

Katara walks stoically through the palace grounds, holding the hand of a quiet, sensitive little girl who bends both fire and water; her name is Zuka, named after her father.

The day is unseasonably cool; Katara believes it is ironically fitting for the occasion as she hurries her daughter along. It is Zuko's twenty-fifth birthday. The child stares at the little pink flowers she holds in her fist, asking simple questions and waiting patiently for her mother to answer, until they reach a small hill overlooking the palace gardens.

Katara shakes, closing her eyes as if to restrain her tears. She knows it is no use though, and despite her wishes, droplets slide under her eyelashes. She drops to her knees near the top of the hill, burying her face in her hands. Zuka tilts her head to the side, her wide, blue, four-year-old eyes swim with her own tears.

"Is momma ok?" she asks, wrapping a short arm around her Katara's neck. Katara nods and forces a smile, attempting to be strong for her daughter. She reaches up to clear her face of tears; she reaches over to her daughter, holding her close. The little girl nuzzles in her mother's neck, nearly crushing her beloved flowers.

"Go on," Katara whispers, releasing the girl from her hold. "Go give daddy the flowers you brought. I know he'll like them."

And some day she's gonna ask me
What kind of man you were
I'll tell her all the ways I loved you
And all the you I see in her.

Katara watches through blurry eyes as Zuka takes slow, careful steps to the very peak of the hill, kneeling at the flat stone embedded in the hard earth. She sets her flowers on top of the stone in a precise semicircle, her lips moving soundlessly. She remains knelt at the stone for many moments, her blue eyes closed, her long black hair ruffled by the chilled wind.

She looks so much like him, Katara thinks.

And even though I cry like crazy
Even though it hurts so bad
I'm thankful for what god gave me
And she's the perfect way to make it last

I'm learning how to live without you
Baby, I don't want to
But even with you gone
Love lives on

"Come on, Zuzu. It's time to go," Katara says softly. The child looks up, presses her palm to the rock, then gets up, wiping at her eyes as she does so. She reclaims her mother's hand as she says her goodbyes before heading back to the palace.

"Momma?" the princess asks.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I told daddy I loved him. And how I don't like it when you're sad. I asked him to make you happy again."

"I know he loves you too. Very much," Katara assures the child. "And don't worry, honey. I won't be sad for much longer. Ok?"

The princess nods, satisfied with her answer, and bends the tears off Katara's cheek with only a little struggle.

I reached for you this morning
Woke up with empty arms

Katara blinks the sleep from her eyes, reaching forward, mostly out of habit. When her arms grasp at nothing, the reminder of Zuko's absence sets in again. Though this time, it doesn't hurt as bad, for at the foot of the bed lies a little toddler dressed in pink silk, clutching a wooly-pig doll, fast asleep.

"Thank you, Zuko, for making me happy again."

~Fin~

---

So Katara married Zuko, and a couple months after they learn she's pregnant, Zuko dies. You can decide how, but I pictured him being killed in a siege led by rebel Fire Nation warriors. Wait, WHAT? NO ZUKO? That actually hurts a little.

Now, for Zuka's name. I wanted Katara to call her Zuzu, like Zuko was called, and I tried to find names that had the letters "zu" in there. But, most of those names were utterly ridiculous, so I chose the simple way and just switched a letter. :]

Review, please?
Tchao, Zutarians.
-Erika-
xoxo