The Return
I wrote this to Tori Amos's song "Selkie". Please read and let me know what you thought afterwards! Thanks.
Katara stands on the bow of the ship, watching the hull cut through the water and turn it into white capped waves. She shifts restlessly from foot to foot, wanting to swing her arms in wide arcs to propel the ship on faster but at the same time secretly hoping that it never reaches the shore it is destined for. Her stomach churns, and she thinks she will be seasick for the first time in her long life.
Her old eyes can see the vague outline of a shoreline up ahead, and above her, a man calls out that land has been spotted. The captain comes to her side to inform her that they will be making landfall within three hours. Her heart seizes in her chest, and tears mist her eyes. She goes below deck to the cloistered darkness of her cabin.
Zuko sits at his desk with a brush and a sheaf of paper. His hand trembles as he tries to write out a character. The brush twitches ever so slightly, and the ink smears. Sighing, he crumples the paper and throws into an evergrowing pile in the corner. Perhaps he should finally give in and just use one of those new fangled telephones Izumi and Iroh are always going on about. He should have been for sometime as his eyesight begins to fail and his hands are not as steady as they were when he was a much younger man. Still, he can't quite bring himself to abandon the more traditional ways. There is a poignant beauty to calligraphy that can never be achieved by modern technology no matter how convenient it is. Painting out the characters was once a form of meditation to him when he would have to sit at his desk all day and sign decrees and laws. Now, it is only a cruel reminder of how much time has passed.
Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he pushes the paper and brush aside for the moment. His eyes wander around the room and land on the antique chest sitting against one wall of his chambers. He stands and walks over to it, throws open the doors, and pulls out the third drawer from the top. He shoves his robes and hair pins out of the way until he reaches the bottom and sees the familiar blue cloth that he was seeking. He pulls out the parka and runs his fingers over the delicate stitching wrought in the shape of moose-elk and seal-turtles. The color has faded with time, but it is still a vivid a blue that can be seen nowhere in the Fire Nation. Some of the white fur has fallen off of the cuffs and collar, but it remains soft to the touch. There isn't even a whiff of must to it, but somehow her sweet, clean smell still clings to the fabric.
He laughs bitterly to himself and puts it away. "I am getting too old." He slides the drawer closed, shuts the doors, and returns to his desk to begin writing again. Perhaps, this time if he concentrates hard enough the characters will come out smoothly like they used to.
The sun has set by the time they all unboard, and Katara shuffles down the gangplank to the port. The city has changed much since she last visited all those years ago. New buildings have come up and the streets have new names, but the smell is the same. The place still reeks of whiskey, tobacco, dead fish, and the salt of the sea.
"Master Katara!" a young sailor yells as he runs up to her. "Allow me to escort you to your destination. The port is not safe for a-"
She stops him with a warm and condescending smile. "An old woman?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.
He swallows and nods dumbly.
"I will be fine," she assures him before walking off and leaving him behind without another word.
She stops at a small restaurant, really no more than a hole in the wall, and has komodo chicken with rice and stuffed peppers. The food is simple but good and filling. She barely touches it though. She was not truly hungry when she strolled in, only looking for a way to put off the real purpose of her visit a little longer. The waterbender becomes lost in memory.
The paper lanterns sway in the breeze, and fireworks go off in bursts of color in the night sky. It is a day of great celebration, but her heart could not be heavier. She toys with the white silk scarf tied around her wrist when she hears footsteps behind her. Katara turns and sees Zuko standing in the doorway.
The Fire Lord glances down at the toes of his pointed boots rather than meeting her eyes.
"I suppose congratulations are in order, Fire Lord," she says formally, trying to put some real affection in to her voice, but they both know it is a lost cause.
He looks up at her then and his gaze is hot and furious. "Don't say that if you don't mean it, Master Katara."
She wants to lash out and spit a harsh reply back at him, but there is no point in making this day any harder than it has to be. She nods and says sincerely, "I'm sorry. I do wish you the best though. You know that, don't you, Zuko?"
He draws in a deep breath and comes to her side, leaning his elbows on the balcony railing. "I do. I do."
They stand there for several heartbeats that feel like eternity before he grabs her wrist and tugs at the silk tied around it. "Do you really have to wear this thing everywhere?"
"You know I do. It's part of the traditions of the Air Nomads."
His fingers grow still, and he mutters something under his breath that she doesn't quite catch.
"You have no right to complain about it anymore after today," she says as she glances at him out of the corner of her eye.
She expects his cheeks to flush red with angry indignation, for him to huff and rant as he always does, but instead he merely lowers his eyes to the ground again and lets his shoulders slump in defeat. "I know."
"You didn't have to do this," she says softly, and she knows that it is not right or fair for her to say so. It feels good though to be this angry and selfish for once when she has seen something she wanted so badly for so long taken from her.
"Neither did you. At least, I like to believe we didn't have to. I want to think that this is all based on our own choices and actions." His voice is desperate and aching as he speaks, and she knows if she says the wrong thing it will break him.
Katara shrugs and presses her side against his. "Maybe. Maybe not. I don't think it was entirely in our control. I do not think it was merely chance that led me to discovering Aang in the iceberg that day eight years ago, and I don't think it was mere chance that Mai came back to you."
His good eye goes wide and then narrows, filled with hurt and accusation and a deep pleading underneath that big storm of emotions that he carries inside of him at all times. "Does it make it easier to live with it when you tell yourself that?"
Katara bites the inside of her cheek and forces herself to meet and hold his gaze. She will not cry even if she sees tears building in his own eyes. "Yes, it does."
His face grows stony, and he turns his head to the side to give her a view of his sharp profile."If that is what you must do to get by, then you must do it. You will do what you have to, and I will do what I have to."
"Zuko-" she says and begins to reach out towards him. She did not intend for things to go this way. A voice calls for her from inside, Aang. She pauses and tries to collect her thoughts to finally tell him the things that have been building up inside of her since forever. The Avatar calls again.
"Go," The Fire Lord commands in a stern voice with his eyes still focused on the town stretched out before them.
"Zuko-" she repeats, already taking a step backwards towards the door.
"Go," he says again, this time harder and colder.
The waterbender turns on her heel and leaves. It is only later as they are leaving the engagement celebration and the chill makes goosebumps rise on her arms that she realizes she left her parka on the balcony.
Katara leaves the shop after her food has grown cold and the waitress gives her a concerned look. She waves off the well-meant words and walks out. The streets are crooked and winding, and once or twice she sees a rough looking man give her an appraising look. She draws water from the air around her and quickly rids them of any ideas they might have had.
The journey to the palace is longer than she remembers it being and the hills much steeper though she knows that nothing has really changed only she has. Her legs are strong but not as strong as they once were. It takes her over an hour to reach the gates where she is admitted by the guards once they recognize her. She has not been here in years, but her reputation precedes her. All in the Fire Nation know Katara as one of the great heroes who ended the Hundred Year War.
She wanders through the gardens, taking a winding, meandering path to drink in the scent of blooming flowers that flood the air. That is not the whole reason though. Her heart is pounding in her chest in such a way that she fears it will give out. Her mouth is dry, and she is thankful she didn't eat much at the restaurant. She feels like a teenage girl again. She did not even think she was still capable of feeling such things.
The same old teahouse where Iroh taught her to play Pai Sho and attempted to teach Zuko how to brew a decent cup of tea still stands by the same old pond. She thinks even the cherry willow tree is the very same one that was there when she came here after Zuko's coronation all those decades ago. It comforts her to know that some things from her time still linger in this world when so many have gone on.
Light falls onto the lawn through the paper walls, and there is a hunched silhouette sitting calm and quiet.
Slipping off her boots, she stoops to come in and slides the door back.
The former Fire Lord looks up with a start from his game of mahjong. His mouth hangs open and despite all of the wrinkles, she recognizes that familiar expression of surprise and disbelief.
"Katara?" he asks as he rises to his feet and approaches.
"Have I changed so much that you need to ask that question?" she replies as she lets him take her hands in his.
He runs a gnarled thumb over her bony knuckles as if to test that she is real and not some dream that he has conjured up. "No, no, never. I just wasn't expecting you. Did your letter get lost?"
She shakes her head. "I did not send one." She smiles up at him in real happiness for the first time in a very long time. "I just thought well . . . I just thought I would drop by. If you don't mind." Her stomach is doing somersaults right now, and she fights the urge to wipe her hands on her coat.
"Of course," he says hurriedly and motions for her to take a seat on one of the cushions around the low table he has set out.
Zuko offers her a cup of tea.
"Did you make it?"
He laughs and shakes his head. Katara takes the cup and sips from it. She sets it down. "How have you been?"
So begins a long conversation of the twisting paths their lives have taken. He tells her of Mai's final years, of Izumi's rise to the position of Fire Lord, of Iroh's illustrious military career. He beams with pride as he speaks of his daughter and grandson. Katara tells him of Aang's passing, of her grandchildren's latest antics, of her continued monitoring of the healing school started at the Southern Pole, and her involvement in the latest Water Tribe politics. At last as the night grows late, it seems they have run out of menial things to talk about and a silence settles over them.
"So why did you really come?" Zuko asks as he peers at her over the rim of his cup.
She feels a blush creeping into her cheeks. She pauses and clears her throat to think over her words carefully. Finally, she answers. "I came because it was time for me to."
His face smoothes, and he suddenly seems like the young man he had once been. "So you think at last that fate has brought you here?" he says quietly.
She nods and holds her breath.
He picks up her hands again and grips them with surprising strength as if he is afraid she will disappear if he does not hold on tight enough. "To me?"
"Yes." She blinks rapidly to keep the tears at bay.
The whole world seems to stop as she struggles to read his guarded expression. Once, it had been as plain and open to her as a scroll, but many years as the ruler of the Fire Nation had forced him to learn to hide his thoughts too well even from she who knew him best. "I see," he says and lets go of her hands.
She starts to shake as she prepares herself to leave again. No doubt, he will want her out now that he knows her true purpose for coming here unannounced.
He licks his lips before he speaks. "I have waited, waited so long, for this, for you. I do not know what to do. I do not know what I can offer you now that I am old."
"We are both old, Zuko," she gasps.
"No, Katara, you will never be old to me. You are never old, and it seems as if you were never really young either. You were simply yourself as you always have been as you always will be. I do not know what I have to give in answer to that."
She takes her out hand out of his and cups the side of his face. "Yourself, Zuko. That is what I have always wanted. It is enough, and it will always be enough."
His face goes slack in relief. He draws her into his arms, and she is home. She has finally returned home.