AN: I own nothing.

Not a whole bunch happens here, but I really like this chapter and I have big plans for the next chapter. BIG plans, so just wait. So this fic will either be long-ish, really insanely long, or it will only be slightly long before field season starts and I'm reduced to writing as fast as I can on buses on the way to comps again. Joy. ;D

Well, I wasn't sure if I was going to continue this, but since I've had threats against my happiness and sanity in color guard (you know who you are *fake glares*) here's the next chapter. ;D

Third Person POV

It had only taken Zuko a week to find Katara and bring her back. It was amazing what you could do when you had access to decent transportation.

Katara hadn't said anything else since accepting Zuko's offer. She seemed even more withdrawn. She barely ate and couldn't even meet Zuko's eyes. Zuko began to wonder if it was possible to move while in a coma.

By the time they reached the Fire Nation Capital, Zuko began to wonder what the hell he had been thinking.

He had no clue what to do next. He considered sending her to the mental institution where Azula was being taken care of, but later decided that locking Azula and Katara up together was not a good idea, even if Katara apparently had amnesia and Azula was completely insane.

He thought of what he would say to her brother. He couldn't just keep her existence secret, but he couldn't let him take her back to the Southern Water Tribe. Besides, there was no telling what Katara would do if he tried.

He only had one option. Hopefully, he hadn't left yet. But Zuko didn't think Iroh would simply leave the Capital before he came back.

It didn't come as a surprise to Zuko that he found his uncle drinking tea.

It did surprise his uncle that he wasn't alone.

"Hello, Zuko - And Katara?" The last words came out slightly surprised. "Everyone's been looking for you, young lady."

Katara's only response was to meet his eyes for a split second before dropping her gaze once again to the floor.

"Oh, dear," Iroh said. "Still no change, then?"

"Uncle, I need your help."

"You want to know what to do next."

"Yes. . ."

"I don't know." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "She's blocking memories. You could try to force her to remember. But remember that there is a good reason why she blocked those memories. It might do more harm than good to make her remember."

"Do you think someone did this to her, or she did it to herself?" Zuko speculated out loud. "Remember what the Dai Li used to do?"

Iroh shook his head. "She was like this before she left the palace, and a trustworthy person was with her the whole time unless she was in her own room. No, her mind did this to herself."

"Do you think I should even try to help her?"

Iroh raised an eyebrow. "That is your choice."

Zuko was reminded of days and weeks on a ship when his uncle refused to answer his questions in anything except cryptic proverbs. At least he was, at the moment, being slightly more helpful.

"But I think that you shouldn't decide tonight. Both of you get sleep, and decide tomorrow." Iroh hesitated from shooing them out of the room. "But if you want help deciding whether or not to try and bring her memories back, try asking her."

With that Iroh shooed his nephew out of his room, and got back to his tea.

After showing Katara to the room she would be staying in (he was careful to make sure she was in a different one than her last stay at the palace), Zuko took his uncle's advice for once. He went to bed.

Or he tried to at least.

After an hour of staring at the wall, he punched his pillow and grumbled in frustration. Really, it was cruel that after five months after the final battle he still couldn't fall asleep. He felt like he'd tried everything, including some concoction his uncle had made, which he'd spat out promptly and declared that drinking the whole cup would have been worse torture than not sleeping. The only thing he hadn't tried was knocking himself out with a heavy object, but he suspected that wouldn't give him restful enough sleep to be worth the pain.

So he was reduced to lying there, night after night, hoping that sleep would come eventually.

At first he thought it might be because of guilt. After all, he'd done some pretty bad things. He tracked down an innocent monk and the people trying to help him just to restore his own honor, he had put his sister in an insane asylum, he helped take down his own father, and he had let one of the people who, eventually, trusted him with their life as he trusted them with his, become so wrapped up in her own grief she couldn't see the world around her.

He thought by correcting some of those wrongs maybe he could justify the others. Or at least ease the guilt.

He also thought maybe it was because he missed the company he used to have. "Team Avatar", as they called themselves, had been just that: a team. They lived together, ate together, traveled together, and as was the downfall for most of their enemies, fought together.

He considered himself lucky to be a part of that team at one time, but now wondered if it had cursed him to a life of insomnia. He wondered if he would be unable to sleep unless it was around the remains of a fire, on the run from his father and trying to save the world.

If so, he was screwed.

He growled in frustration before finally sitting up, resisting the urge to reduce the bed to cinders. Not entirely sure where he was planning on going, he wrapped a robe around himself before leaving his room.

The entire palace was quiet, which didn't surprise Zuko, and wouldn't have surprised him even if he hadn't done this every night for the past five months. Firebenders loved the sun for the obvious power it gave them; night instilled in them fear of the moon which subtly weakened and, on occasion, rendered them powerless.

It was humbling, and perhaps that was what kept him up at night, Zuko thought. Maybe he needed this wakeup call and his mind was determined not to let him forget it.

But really, five months was a bit much, he told his subconscious. It didn't respond.

He walked outside to the courtyard where there was a fountain. It was elaborate and complex with many layers and tiers-

Wait a second, Zuko thought to himself. That fountain does not have that many tiers. It also doesn't have water flowing up, either.

Cautiously he walked to the other side of the fountain where someone was Waterbending. There was only one Waterbender at the Palace.

Her hair still hadn't been combed out and she still wore the same ratty clothes that she had when he found her in her hut, but she looked calmer. More. . . at peace.

The water swirled in intricate patterns while her hands curved and created arcs, twining and untwining. The effect was hypnotizing.

Zuko found that the more he watched the water, the more they seem to start morphing into almost recognizable shapes before Katara's face would contort and her hands would swiftly change the flow of water into something else, something meaningless, like a swirl or arc.

Zuko took this as his cue to leave after this happened the third time, realizing that he didn't want to be caught watching her.

Then he wondered why. It wasn't like he had done anything wrong. He was perfectly allowed to go walking around the palace anytime he wanted to. It was his palace, after all.

But that didn't ease the feeling of guilt of having intruded on something he shouldn't have seen, and should immediately attempt to erase from his memory.

Needless to say, he still didn't get any sleep that night.