A/N: Thanks again to Lexosaurus for beta reading! And thanks to everyone who left comments/reviews on the first chapter, it means a ton! I'm super happy with how this chapter turned out, so I hope you enjoy!
~Reruns all become our history~
It wasn't a vacation. It had never been a vacation, as much as it felt like one when she didn't have to cook or wash clothes. She still had plenty to keep her busy. The days passed in a blur of economic discussions, combat training with old acquaintances—still mostly boys, but she was excited to find three girls had been admitted since she'd last visited—and healing practice with Yugoda.
Even though concern for Aang and Toph tickled the back of her mind, it was nice to have this time on her own. Training just for herself and not for the fate of the world was more of a relief than she'd expected.
Of course, Zuko's request regarding his scars shrouded the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. He hadn't asked her again since they'd gotten here—he trusted that she would let him know once she had the spirit water—but she felt like she could see the unspoken question every time their eyes met across the council hall.
That was almost the only time she saw him. At this rate, she'd have to get the water on her own, and then wait until the return trip to see if she could actually heal him. Which would work just as well… but felt oddly disappointing.
What had she expected? That she would get to spend this not-vacation just hanging out with him, like old times?
She should've known it would be like this. He was the Fire Lord now. She was… well, on a technicality she was an ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe, but her presence was hardly necessary for the trade negotiations. Zuko made sure she was admitted to the most important meetings anyway. Having travelled the world—even if it was usually from atop Appa rather than by ship—meant she was at least a little bit useful in helping map trade routes.
As much as she appreciated and enjoyed being included, today's particular meetings had been nothing short of monotonous, and the lunch break couldn't have come soon enough. Katara picked up a plate of food from the table at the back of the large dining hall and scanned the room for Zuko. He was easy to spot at a round table in the corner. As usual, the seats surrounding him were empty. Outside of the official meetings, no one seemed to know what to do with him, so they left him alone. She couldn't tell if that was because he was so young to be a leader, or just their wariness of the Fire Lord title.
She took a seat beside him, suppressing a laugh as he tried to peel a frost melon with his bare hands. His fingernails barely made a dent in the fist-sized fruit's tough white rind.
Finally, taking pity on him, she asked, "You need some help there?"
"What's wrong with this thing?" He said, finally giving up and dropping the fruit on the smooth ice table. The dull thud startled the delegates seated at the nearest table, though they quickly went back to their own conversation.
"Nothing's wrong with it. Here." She held out her open palm, and he handed over the frost melon. "You just have to know the trick."
Her fingers found the near-invisible crack in its stony rind. With one quick smack against the table, the melon split in half.
"Huh." He blinked at the now-exposed blue flesh of the fruit. "So the trick's just to hit it really hard?"
"Not exactly." She held out the two halves. "They grow underwater. The rind hardens and cracks when it dries."
"So the trick is just to hit it really hard on the cracks."
"Pretty much. It's a good way to let out some frustration if you need to."
"Believe it or not, that hasn't been a problem lately." He cracked a smile and took back the melon.
She could verify that statement first hand. Even though the Water Tribe council mostly ignored Zuko outside of the trade talks, they took him seriously during them. And he responded in kind, speaking confidently with his hands folded tightly behind his back while he discussed coal, oil, and fish prices. Only during these breaks did she sometimes catch him cradling his fist over his middle.
"You're getting the hang of this whole Fire Lord thing, huh?"
He shrugged. "I don't know if I'd say that. I've just been doing what I always do. Working hard, screwing up a lot, and learning from my mistakes. And trust me, there's been a lot of those. Those first few months…"
He ran his free hand through his hair—or tried to. Apparently he forgot it was in its topknot, and his fingers caught in the tight style. A few strands came loose as he tried to untangle them.
She chuckled and reached up to push them back in place as best she could. As cute as she found his hair like that, he wouldn't want to look disheveled when the meeting reconvened.
He froze, the unscarred half of his face going red. Oh. She drew back her hand and made a show of picking at her food while he finished fixing his hair. Then she remembered what had prompted him to muss it in the first place.
"Hey, you've made it this far and no one's tried to kill you. I'd call that a success."
He grimaced.
She put down her chopsticks and gaped at him.
"Wait—have people tried to kill you?"
"Shh." He scooted closer, gesturing for her to keep her voice down. "I'm fine. It's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal?" She lowered her voice to a near-whisper, her hands clenching into fists. "Zuko. I know you're used to almost dying, but you shouldn't have to be! That's not—"
He cupped a hand over her fist. "Look, I know, okay? That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to freak out."
"Being concerned that my friend could've been assassinated is not the same as freaking out." If he got hurt and she couldn't heal him because she wasn't there, if she'd brought him back from the brink of death just to lose him mere months later—
She forced herself to take a deep breath. He was here. He was alive. And he was staring at her, his eyes trying to convey comfort to her when he was the one who could've died.
"There have been fewer attempts than Uncle expected," he said, as if that were actually good news.
"You expected people to try to kill you?"
He shrugged. "It tends to happen around successions. Especially messy ones like this. But most people, even in the Fire Nation, are just glad the war is over. Really. Everything's fine."
He made it sound like assassination attempts were an ordinary part of life, not even worth mentioning. Maybe that was true for Fire Nation royalty. She couldn't imagine anyone ever trying to assassinate Ozai, though.
She almost snorted at that. Assassinating Ozai had been the focus of their lives for the past year before the comet. Shorter than that for Zuko, but he'd still been a major part of the plot too. Maybe for him, being on this end of assassination attempts was better.
Then she was sad all over again, because no one should consider being targeted by assassins an improvement.
"Okay," she finally said. "I trust you. Just… you can tell me about stuff like that, alright? I can't promise I won't 'freak out,' but I'd feel better knowing than not."
She would really feel better if she could be there to take out any would-be assassins herself. At least she was here now. Not that she expected any assassins here. The negotiations were going well, and hired killers were taboo in Water Tribe culture. Besides, if Zuko was worried about that, he'd have guards around rather than sitting by himself.
Not that he had the best sense of self-preservation on a regular day.
"Fair enough." He nodded a little sheepishly. Like he'd only now realized what a big deal it was to almost get killed.
Again.
"Good." She nodded back, deciding to let it go. There wasn't anything she could do about it now.
After a moment of awkward silence, he experimentally bit into blue flesh of the frost melon and made a face.
"Not a fan, huh?" She smiled and took back the other half of his melon.
"It's not bad," he insisted, though his furrowed brow said otherwise. "I just didn't know fruit could be salty."
He stared down at the melon like it had presented him a particularly difficult math problem. She couldn't help but laugh a little; it was just too cute.
"What?" He looked up in confusion. A thin trail of salty juice dripped down his lip to his chin.
She felt her face flush and shook her head, biting into her half of the fruit to stop herself from grinning any wider.
"I just missed this, that's all," she replied. That was a safe enough thing to say—definitely better than voicing her sudden impulse to wipe the juice from his lip.
"Really?" He looked up at her with his head tilted.
"Of course I did, Zuko. You're my friend. We've all missed you."
It was true. Even if it wasn't what she really wished she could say.
"Oh." His fingernails picked at the frost melon, meticulously separating the blue flesh from the rind. In a low voice, he added, "Right. I've missed everyone too."
Was he… lonely? Katara hadn't been able to stay in the Fire Nation capital after his lightning wound no longer needed regular healing sessions. There was so much Aang still had to do around the world to establish peace, and he needed her. Going with him had been the logical choice. Still, they tried to visit Zuko from time to time, even if that was less often than she would've liked. But even without her and her friends, Zuko had his Uncle.
And Mai, she reminded herself while stabbing a piece of fish a little too forcefully with her chopsticks. She had to be imagining the emotion in Zuko's voice.
"You have?" She asked anyway.
"Like you said. You're my friend. Er, all of you are. My friends." He coughed. "I never had to worry about where I stood with you."
He pointedly avoided her eyes as his hands continued to shred the pulpy flesh of his melon. Something in his statement felt personal, like an inside joke she'd wasn't privy to. Only with much less humor.
"Is that something you worry about now?" She asked softly. Maybe she wasn't the only one who only mentioned the positive in her letters.
"Too often," he sighed.
He didn't seem to notice the frost melon juice staining his hand as he pressed it against his torso—over his lightning scar. Blue juice bled onto the silky red fabric, turning it a muddy purple.
"Oh," he said when it registered, his face turning pink. "I've got to stop doing that…"
"What, the Fire Lord ruins good clothes often?" She waved her hand in front of him, and the juice bent out of his robes.
He blinked before smiling in relief. "Thanks. Wouldn't want to embarrass my babysitters."
He nodded at the adjacent table, where his advisors and other Fire Nation officials were sitting and looking even more confused about the fruit than Zuko had. One even tried to split open a melon with a fingertip of fire.
"They look pretty occupied."
His habit of putting his hand over his lighting scar had reminded her of the real reason she was here. As much as she wanted to ask about what was bothering him, they only had so much time together—and she still needed to make good on her promise.
"So... you think you'll be able to sneak away from them?"
He looked up in surprise.
"Not right now, of course," she backpedalled quickly. "After I talk to Yugoda. I've been training in healing with her in the evenings. I'll find a way to ask her soon. About… you know."
She didn't think anyone else knew about his plan, and though the other Fire Nation officials did look occupied, she didn't feel right talking about it out loud here. Everyone would know soon enough, though. He couldn't exactly hide having a giant scar removed from his face. She wondered if he really planned on just showing up to the meetings one morning without it. Knowing him, he probably would.
"Oh. Yeah, I'll figure out something." He nodded, picking at his fruit again. It was practically a pile of pulp by now.
"You don't have to, you know. I can get the water and wait until the trip back. If you're busy, or—"
"Katara." He looked straight into her eyes. "I won't be busy."
She ignored the tingle running down her spine and nodded slowly.
"If you're sure, then."
She hoped he didn't notice how her own hands trembled as she finished off her half of the melon.
XXX
Black was the wrong color, he thought as he climbed out his second-story window that night. He'd known that, of course, but he was despairingly out of options for inconspicuous attire. Habit was only reason he'd brought his dark clothing at all. And of the other eleven outfits Uncle had forced him to pack, there was no option that would help him blend into the ice and snow.
Of course, Uncle hadn't known that he intended to sneak down to Katara's room in the middle of their diplomatic trip. He didn't even want to be sneaking. He wasn't sneaking. He just… found his black stealth suit more warm and comfortable than the billowing Fire Lord robes.
Besides, who wanted to climb down the side of a slick building in a cape? It just wasn't practical.
He shouldn't have worried though; all of his advisors (babysitters) were long since asleep in the adjoining palace guest rooms. The early northern nightfall had taken its toll on the firebenders. Even the non-benders who didn't have the instinctive need to rise and fall with the sun were still used to sleeping when it was dark outside.
Of course, Zuko had long since learned how to push through into the moon's domain.
As he snuck—no, he wasn't… okay, maybe he was sneaking, just a little—he hoped that Katara wouldn't mind the late visit. She'd usually stayed up late when they travelled together. Plus she'd wanted to know if he could manage to get away from everyone. This was the easiest way to find out.
Don't play dumb. That's a stupid excuse and you know it. His real reason—the question he wanted to ask her—hung heavy in the back of his mind.
Still, even that didn't warrant the dark clothes, or sneaking out in the middle of the night. It felt right, though. For the first time in months, his breathing seemed to come easier. His inner fire invigorated him as it fought back the harsh cold. The only thing that would make him feel more alive would be the comfortable weight of his daos across his back, or maybe his old Blue Spirit mask over his face.
Agni, Katara had been right—he was feeling nostalgic.
For what? The times when I was on the run? When everyone wanted to kill me? When we still had to worry about defeating my father and Azula?
He was Fire Lord now. The political unrest in the wake of his coronation had settled down, and a whole month had passed without an attempt on his life. Reparations without and rebuilding within the Fire Nation were both going as well as could be expected. The world was at peace. Agni, he even had a girlfriend.
Who would probably have some sharp words to say if she knew he was sneaking towards Katara's room right now.
His face heated as he realized how it would look. He had nothing to be ashamed of, though; he just needed Katara's advice.
He pushed thoughts of Mai aside, pulled his dark wrap higher over his face, and crept onward across the courtyard.
The moon shone down brightly, gleaming off the polished ice and leaving precious few shadows to hide in. He didn't have far to go, though. Katara's guest house—the traditional Southern Water Tribe Ambassador's quarters—was just below the courtyard.
He slid down the icy cliff and landed silently on the terrace level below. There wasn't any reason to avoid the stairs, but if he was going to be sneaking around anyway, he might as well do a thorough job of it.
From there it didn't take long to reach the small igloo-like structure Katara was staying in. In fact it didn't take long enough. Doubt itched at him, nudging his hand back towards his sunburst scar. Did he really want to hear the answer to his question? It shouldn't affect his decision one way or another. The scars were interfering with both his royal and personal life. Everything would be easier with them gone.
Then again, he wasn't one to do something only because it was easy.
That thought gave him the courage to take a deep breath and knock on Katara's door.
A second passed. Then a few more. Maybe she was asleep; he hadn't knocked loudly, just in case. Maybe that was for the best. He'd never actually sought her out at night before. Their only late conversations had been when they both ended up in the kitchen, unable to sleep. Those times had become increasingly frequent over their stay on Ember Island, and even when she'd stayed in the palace to heal him, but that was months ago, and that didn't mean she would welcome—
The door opened.
Katara blinked blearily a few times before her eyes snapped to his. She wore a long, thick nightgown, and her hair was down, poofing out around her face in rumpled curls. He hadn't seen it like that since they'd traveled together, on the rare occasions she rolled out of bed late and waved off his offer of morning tea. She was as beautiful now as she'd been then.
And now he knew that she wasn't dating Aang…
Stop it! That doesn't mean she likes you!
Even if she did, there was no way she would stay with him, and—that was all completely missing the point, because he was trying to work things out with Mai. She'd gone to prisonfor him, and forgiven him, and most importantly, she was still there. He couldn't handle being Fire Lord with no one his age around. He needed her.
And he'd promised not to break up with her.
Agni, he'd made a stupid choice in coming at night. He imagined the moon laughing at his pathetic, traitorous emotions.
"Zuko? What are you..." Katara scanned him head to toe, her eyebrows raising. "Black doesn't really blend in here, you know."
He hoped the moon wasn't bright enough to illuminate the his flushed face. It seemed to glow a little brighter at that thought.
"...I didn't pack any white," he mumbled, dodging her gaze. "And I, uh, sorry it's late, I should've asked—"
She grinned and pulled him inside. Woven tapestries adorned the walls, and a pattern of waves in the floor-length rug divided the small kitchen from the bed space. A few polished ice windows let in the gibbous moon's light. The fire pit in the corner and sconces set into the icy walls were unlit, but somehow the hut was still warm. He hadn't realized how much energy it had taken to hold his core temperature until he didn't have to anymore.
"It's fine. I wasn't asleep anyway," she said, though her unmade bed and disheveled hair said otherwise. Her fingers reached up to tame the wayward curls. "I'm sorry, though. I don't have the spirit water yet. I was going to ask Yugoda tonight, but the healing class went late..."
"Huh? Oh! I—I didn't think you would. I mean, I didn't expect you to yet, I... that's not why I'm here." He ran a hand through his hair, mostly to stop it from reaching for hers. Agni, trying to talk to her this late was stupid for more reasons than one. But he was running out of time. She might not have the spirit water now, but she would soon. And then she'd expect him to make his decision—or rather, to go through with the decision he'd already made. The decision he'd been so sure was right, was necessary, until…
Until he'd realized just how complicated his feelings still were.
"You're not?" She asked in confusion. "Then why… um…"
"I just wanted to talk to you." That probably wasn't a good enough reason to invade someone's house in the middle of the night. It was the truth, though—he'd never been able to lie to her. Now he just needed to ask his question before any worse truths came out.
"You snuck out of the palace at night… just to talk to me?" Her lips curved towards a grin.
He felt his face flush again and winced. So much for not revealing anything else.
"Well not just to talk to you, I mean, you wanted to know if I could sneak out. So. I can."
Did that sound better or worse? She frowned as her fingers caught in her hair, but he couldn't tell if it was because of what he said or just from the tangle.
"Oh. That's good, then." Her hands dropped back to her sides. "Um. It's kind of dark in here, do you mind…"
He lit the lamps in the wall sconces before she could finish. Warm light swept over them, seeming to wash the stiffness out of Katara's posture.
"Thanks." She smiled, and he hid a sigh of relief. She hadn't told him he was being stupid, or to go back to the palace before someone noticed he was gone. She was letting him stay. He'd get to ask her.
His stomach clenched at that realization, and his hand instinctively found his scar again.
"Are you… does it hurt?" Katara asked softly. Her hand twitched towards him.
"Does it hurt?"
He flinched away at the memory of Mai's words. The spark that had brought him to this decision.
"I'm sorry." Her arm quickly curled back to her chest, as if his response had burned her.
"No, it's—it doesn't hurt." His hand stayed pressed against it anyway.
"Not anymore. She did a fantastic job."
"Are you sure? I could… I mean, I don't have the spirit water, but I know Aang's lightning wound still acts up sometimes, and regular healing can help the pain."
The offer was tempting, but for all the wrong reasons. He could only imagine what Mai would think if she could see him now, considering taking off his shirt in a different girl's room.
He shook his head quickly. "I'm fine. Really."
"Okay," she said in a tone that suggested she didn't buy it. He was telling the truth though—the kind of hurt he clung to couldn't be healed with waterbending.
A rebellious part of him thought it might still be healed with her hands.
"At least have some tea." She was already moving to the small fire pit in the corner of the room.
"Alright." He smiled a little and followed her, crouching down to light the fire before she could ask.
"You're going to spoil me, doing that." She chuckled as she bent the water from her waterskin into the kettle.
"What do you mean? You asked me to light the torches. Besides, I used to start the cookfire all the time."
"I know. It took me almost a month to get used to doing it myself again." She set the kettle on the grate above the flames.
He suppressed the fire from a bright yellow blaze to a gentle orange, the way Uncle had taught him so the water wouldn't heat too quickly and spoil the tea's flavor.
He shrugged. "Sounds like I should make up for lost time, then."
"I guess it is kind of cool to have the Fire Lord performing menial labor for me."
The return to her humor was a relief. Teasing was easier to handle than sympathy.
He flexed his fingers over the fire and deadpanned, "We'll see if my delicate royal hands will be able to handle it."
"Well, don't overexert yourself."
They fell into comfortable conversation while the water heated, and for at least those few moments, it really was like old times. The tension bled out of him, evaporated in the smell of charcoal, the warmth of the crackling flames, the cadence of Katara's laugh. He knew he still needed to ask his question, but a selfish part of him wanted to just enjoy the peaceful moment. To enjoy being with her.
He was enjoying this. That was dangerous. Disasters usually followed moments like these.
"Zuko?" Her hand on his shoulder snapped him from those thoughts. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he said reflexively. He wasn't ready for her sympathy, wasn't ready to see her sad because of him again. So even though he should've used it as a chance to ask his question, a different one came out. "How are your combat lessons going?"
"They're going fine, I guess. It's nice to have other waterbenders to train against, but I've mastered the Northern Style of waterbending already." She shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal that she was a Master at age fifteen. It seemed he was destined to always be surrounded by prodigies.
"I've actually been working on developing some new techniques." She scooted closer to the flames. And to him, technically, but he assumed that was just a side-effect. "You know that move you always use when you get knocked down? Where you do the spinny thing with your legs?"
She twirled a finger in the air, and he rolled his eyes. Spinny thing. Well, it wasn't as bad as being teased for the Dancing Dragon, he guessed.
"Of course I do. I invented that move." Rolling across the ground, transferring the momentum of a fall to his windmilling legs, releasing a whirlwind of fire to cover him as he regained his stance—the exact way he used it varied depending on the circumstance, but the maneuver had been one of his favorites ever since he'd used an early version of it against Zhao.
"Really?" She blinked. "Actually, that explains a lot. I always thought it looked different from other firebending moves. That's why I tried to adapt it to waterbending."
"You're kidding." He gave her a disbelieving look. "You haven't seen me use it in ages."
"Yeah, well, I— it might not be the same move, exactly. It was more like, you know, an inspiration."
"Sounds more like stealing to me." He smirked. Inspiration, stealing—either way, she'd thought about him. That felt like some kind of victory. If one in a game he shouldn't be playing.
"Oh yeah, like how you stole my water whips?" She raised her eyebrows. "Or the wave form?"
"That's different. Those moves already existed; I created this firebending technique on my own."
It had taken a lot of practice—and even more falls—to make it work. Maybe she was right about it being more suited for waterbending; that could explain why perfecting it had been so difficult. The effort had been worth it, though. The move had been one of the few advantages he'd had against the more traditional firebending style, which didn't provide any way to recover after being knocked down.
"Hmm. Did you name it then?"
He snorted. "No."
The thought hadn't even occurred to him. Should it have? No, that was something he could imagine his father doing. He would've come up with a ridiculous name like "Ozai's Phoenix" or something.
"That's too bad. I've been calling it the Spinny Fire Fall Kick in my head, but that doesn't have a great ring to it." She rubbed her chin before giving him a sly look. "Then again, if you haven't named your move yet, then I could name it first."
He choked a little. "We are not calling it the… what did you say?"
"Spinny Fire Fall Kick." She grinned. "Though I guess mine would be the Spinny Water Fall Kick. Actually, Waterfall Kick isn't such a bad idea..."
"And here I thought only Sokka came up with the terrible names." He groaned and leaned back on his hands. Still, he couldn't completely hide the smile on his lips.
"I've had to pick up the slack since he's been gone. Besides, I'd like to see you come up with something better."
"I will. As soon as I see you pull that move off."
"Is that a challenge?"
Her smug look sent static up his spine. But before he could reply, the kettle started screeching.
Katara jumped to take it off the fire and then muttered at it under her breath. "I should've taken it off sooner. I can cool it with my bending, but boiled water still never tastes as good."
"It's not your fault, I should've been keeping an eye on the fire." He held the teapot while she poured in the hot water. "Either way, I probably won't notice."
After searching for a moment, she found a pouch of lavender petals near her bed and returned to crumble them into the pot. "Didn't you work in a tea shop, though? And your tea was always pretty good."
It was? Uncle said he'd improved after their time in Ba Sing Se, but Zuko had thought he was just trying to spare his feelings after he'd struggled for so long. He smiled a little at the compliment.
"Uncle taught me how to make tea properly, but I still can't taste a difference. It's all hot leaf juice, more or less."
"Hang on. You make the best tea and you can't even tell?"
"So my tea's the best now?" His smile widened. Katara didn't pass out compliments easily—at least, she never had to him.
"Oh, don't go getting a big head about it." She rolled her eyes. Firelight flickered over her face, giving her cheeks the impression of a blush. "You're probably out of practice by now, anyway."
"You'd be surprised."
He might not appreciate the taste of tea, but brewing it was soothing, in a strange way. Maybe it was just another of his nostalgic hobbies—if one with less potentially-dangerous consequences than running around on rooftops. The warm herbal scents always brought him welcome comfort when Uncle had to travel on political business. Brewing tea also doubled as a firebending control and meditation exercise, which helped during the moments when he wanted to light his paperwork on fire and chuck it out a window.
Of course, the calming effect hadn't helped him during the one disastrous time he'd tried to show off his tea-making skills to Mai.
"You don't have to pretend to be a peasant anymore, Zuko. Just let the servants do it. That's their job."
"It's not like that, Mai. I want to do it. Uncle taught me how when we were in Ba Sing Se—"
"Pretending to be peasants."
"Those peasants are good people! They're proud and strong, and they deserve our respect."
"Are you serious? This isn't a public address, Zuko. You don't have to pretend you care about them."
"I'm not—ugh, forget it!"
He didn't realize his hand had found his scar—again—until Katara passed him a steaming teacup. If she noticed his action, she didn't point it out.
The warm vapor curling from the cup loosened the tightness in his throat. What had they been talking about? Oh, right. Tea.
"Your tea's good too," he said belatedly.
She snorted and shook her head before pouring her own cup. "You just said all tea tastes like hot leaf juice."
"Yeah— err…" He covered his stammering with a sip and nearly choked when it burned his tongue. "It's—uh, good leaf juice."
"Sure, whatever you say." She smiled and chilled her tea with a breath.
"Um… do you mind doing mine too?" He asked, holding out his cup with a sheepish smile.
"You mean the firebender doesn't want it scalding hot?"
"This firebender's had enough burns, thanks." He meant it to be a joke, but his voice came out too somber.
Her eyes flickered to his left eye, then his middle. He fought the urge to protect that spot—it wasn't like she could see the scar through his black clothes, and even if she could, she'd seen it plenty of times before while healing him.
"Of course." She exhaled over his cup, accidentally covering his knuckles in frost as well. He shivered before taking a sip.
Too cold. At least that was a problem he could fix. Katara's downcast silence, on the other hand, might not be.
Nice going. Zuko wanted to groan. For these last few moments, he'd felt… right. For once. Like he belonged here, sitting on her floor, talking about nothing and drinking tea. For those moments, he didn't have to be the Fire Lord. He didn't have to be the perfect boyfriend. He didn't have to be anything—except himself.
But he'd known it wouldn't last. Things that made him happy generally didn't.
Well, at least he didn't have anything to lose by asking his question now.
He cleared his throat. "Katara?"
"Yeah?" She asked quickly, meeting his eyes over her teacup.
Don't look at me like that. It's not fair. The reflection of flames danced in her blue irises. It would be difficult to toe the line between telling her enough to help him with his question, and not telling her so much that she uncovered his real motivation for asking.
"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" He hoped his desperation didn't show through his voice. "Getting rid of my scars, I mean."
There. It was out. Maybe it was a stupid question—it felt stupid, now that he said it out loud—but he needed to know. He certainly had enough reasons to want them gone, but part of him—the same part that liked sneaking out in black clothes and brewing his own tea—felt an attachment to the blemishes on his skin. It was too complicated to sort out in his head, but talking it out with her might help him decide. She'd helped him gain the courage to apologize to Uncle. He believed she'd have similar wisdom again.
His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for her reply.
"...Do you not want to get rid of them?"
"I do. I did. I don't know." He covered his middle with one hand, the other gripping his teacup so tightly it could crack. "I've got a lot on my mind."
"Well, if you want to get it off your mind, I'm here," she prodded gently.
"Are you sure? It's complicated. It might take a while."
"Of course I'm sure, Zuko. That's why I offered." Her tone was light, but her smile sincere.
He inhaled shakily. He didn't know what he'd expected. Katara wasn't the type to tell him to shut up, but he still wasn't used to anyone besides Uncle caring about what he had to say. Unless what he said was a Fire Lord order, of course, but that didn't count.
"Right." He took a sip of tea to collect himself. "I told you how I got the scar on my face. I used to think it marked me—but you know that."
Another gulp of tea. She knew all this. He was just going to bore her, going over it again. He should have gotten over it by now. After four years, he was still just weak, pathetic—
Her hand was covering his over the teacup. It wasn't until then that he realized he was shaking. A few drops of tea had fallen on his dark pants. He hadn't felt it.
"It's okay," she whispered.
"It's not okay." His voice came out too harsh, but her hand just tightened over his. "I've chosen my own destiny. My father's in prison, and Azula's getting help for her… condition. I'm not in their shadow anymore. I can fix the terrible things we've done. But this scar…" He shook his head. "People look at it, and they don't see what it means to me. All they see is a weak, disfigured boy trying to fix a weak disfigured nation."
"Zuko, no one—"
"You haven't seen it! It's even worse here, everyone stares! I can tell they're thinking it. How am I supposed to represent my country when people take one look at me and think I'm—I'm disgusting?"
His voice cracked on that last word. His eyes squeezed shut. It wasn't so bad, usually. People in the palace knew better than to stare. But foreign nobles and ambassadors, his own citizens, and the Water Tribe—they didn't. Wide eyes and barely-veiled gasps often were their first reactions.
Deep down he wondered if that was why the Tribe didn't speak to him much outside of the trade negotiations.
"Zuko." Katara squeezed his arm.
His trembling hand splashed more tea into his lap, but he barely noticed. Her stare pinned him as easily as her ice needles could have.
"You are not weak. You're not disgusting, either, I can't believe you would—" She shook her head, and her gaze softened. "My point is… you don't deserve that. Scar or no scar, you're…"
His heart sank as she trailed off. If even Katara, the one person who could both scare him senseless and tell him exactly what he needed to hear, couldn't think of something positive to say about him, then he was even worse off than he'd thought.
But it didn't matter. He was here for advice, not sympathy. He was just about to shrug it off when her voice came warm and clear.
"...you're the strongest person I know."
He blinked. Had he heard that right? No. Aang had defeated his father; that by definition made him the strongest person she knew. Besides herself.
"You don't have to try to make me feel better, Katara. I just—"
"What, you really think I'd lie to make you feel better? Can't you just trust me and take the compliment for once?"
This time he wasn't sure the fire in her eyes was just a reflection. He wasn't sure whether to feel afraid or touched.
"Sorry. I'm not used to it, I guess… but thanks." He swallowed another gulp of tea, then busied himself refilling his cup. Hopefully that would keep her from seeing the redness in his face.
"No, wait, I'm sorry."
He looked up at the sound of her sigh. Her eyes remained downcast, staring at her frosted tea.
"I shouldn't have yelled at you. I do want you to feel better, but I… this must be bothering you more than I know. I can't fix that with words, and it just makes me…" She trailed off as ice began to crystalize through her cup again. "It's no excuse, though."
"No, I get it." He lit a fire in his palm and held it near her tea until the ice thawed. "Sorry I yelled, too."
She didn't deserve that. She didn't have to listen to him at all, but here she was, letting him ramble about his problems when she could be sleeping. She was a better friend than he deserved.
"I know there's nothing you can say, and I don't expect you to. My scar will always make me look different. People don't like you when you're different."
She frowned down into her still-full cup. "...I can understand that. That doesn't make them right, though."
Maybe it didn't, but it didn't change the fact that it hurt.
"There's other reasons I should get rid of it, too. My sight and hearing aren't as good on my left side. Every once in a while the skin still itches, especially when I'm in dry places."
"Even after all this time?" She looked up, her brows turned upward.
"I didn't have a waterbending healer like you to fix it. There's only so much regular medicine could do." He shrugged. "Anyway. I've got a lot of reasons to want it gone."
"But… you have some reasons for wanting to keep it too?" She picked up on what he left unsaid.
"...Yeah. I do." He brushed his fingers over his older scar. The rough skin felt right to his touch by now. He wasn't sure what his face would feel like without it.
Actually, he feared that he did.
"I don't want to look like…" He grimaced. "You know. You mistook his baby picture for me. That's not the only time we looked similar."
Katara blinked before catching on. "You mean… oh."
"Yeah," he said before she could study him. Look for any traces of Ozai in his face.
Logically, he knew that she'd never seen Ozai in person. She wouldn't be able to tell one way or another. Somehow, that was comforting.
"That's not the only reason. The other reason, though… it might sound kind of stupid." His thumb traced the etchings on his teacup. "I got this scar right before I was banished. Looking back, that was the best thing that ever happened to me. I feel like if I erase this scar, it's like saying I regret everything that happened since then. Like I'd just be going back to the person I was before."
He took a long drink. The tea was already cold again, but he didn't bother warming it.
"Zuko… I don't think that's stupid at all. It's… kind of sweet, actually."
He choked on his tea. When he looked up, Katara was smiling softly again.
"Sweet?"
"You know what I mean." She drained her cup in one gulp and refilled it by bending a stream out of the teapot. "It reminds you of who you are. There's nothing wrong with that."
Something in his stomach unclenched at that. It didn't really help, though—she'd validated both his reasons for wanting to keep and to get rid of the facial scar.
"How can you say that? I brought you all the way here to get rid of my scars, and now I'm telling you I might have wasted your time."
"No, you haven't. I'm still glad I came, whether you want me to heal you or not. Like I said before, I needed the vacation, remember?"
"It's not a vacation. Technically."
She shrugged. "We're staying up late and I'm not doing anyone's laundry. Feels like a vacation to me."
"It is getting late, isn't it…" He frowned at the moon through the window. It had been too easy to ignore how limited their time was.
"Hey. Don't change the subject." She nudged him gently. "You were on a roll there."
His lips twitched into a faint smile. Of course she wouldn't let him off the hook that easily.
"You changed it first, talking about vacations. But anyway. I still don't know what I'm going to do." He sighed over his tea, which had the welcome side effect of reheating it. "I don't want you to ask for the water for nothing."
"Even if you don't want me to use it, it wouldn't hurt to have some in case of an emergency. You never know, traveling with Aang. He might, I don't know, fall off a hopping llama or something."
It was a joke, he knew; she could heal simple injuries like that. But neither of them wanted to imagine their friend suffering another wound that would need spirit water.
He nodded. "You still didn't answer my first question, though. Do you think I should get rid of my scars, or keep them?"
Despite everything, he managed to keep his voice even. He was pushing his luck by asking a second time. But what she thought about this was important to him—more important than it had any right to be. If she told him to keep his scars, he knew he would.
And maybe, deep down, that was what he hoped.
Katara swirled her tea in her cup, but didn't answer. What was she thinking? She hated them too, didn't she; she was just thinking of a polite way to tell him—
"You remember when you helped me find Yon Rha, right?"
The sudden transition caught him off guard.
"Of course I do."
As if he could ever forget. Her silhouette against the sunrise after a sleepless night, her raw power turning the body's blood against it, her anger freezing rain to daggers. Exhaustion, pain, fear, relief. It had been the first time he felt like he truly saw her.
Ever since, he hadn't been able to look away.
"You didn't tell me what to do when I faced him," she continued, oblivious to the warmth and guilt circling each other in his stomach. "I had to make that choice myself. I think this is your Yon Rha, Zuko. Whatever you choose to do will be right. But it's your choice. I'll be with you, no matter what you decide."
He stared at her in stunned silence. He swore she'd hear his heart beating out of his chest. How did she know exactly what to say? She must have secretly talked to Uncle. But even Uncle didn't know about his plan to erase his scars.
"Ride or die, huh?" He grinned a little, remembering the jokes Sokka had made about them after that trip, and then again before they left to face Azula. They'd brushed Sokka off with some huffing, and—in Katara's case—waterbending.
She gave him a pointed look, and her eyes flickered towards his middle. "Just ride. No dying this time."
"No dying," he said with his hand pressed against that scar. He wondered if her answer would've changed if he explained his reasons for erasing and keeping that scar, rather than the one on his face. Her half-parted lips made him wonder if she wanted to ask. But she just drained her teacup and refilled it with her bending.
He could see inside the teapot; it was down to the dregs now. He didn't really want them, and he didn't need to buy any more time. He'd asked his question.
He dumped what he could into his cup anyway.
"Thank you, Katara."
"It's no problem. I trust you, remember?"
With that smile, she could've bent him as if he were water.
He buried his face in the rest of his strong tea, wishing he shared her confidence in him. This was a decision he only got to make once. His usual habit of bungling things the first time wouldn't work here.
"So… do you still want me to get the spirit water?" She asked. The real question.
"You said it yourself. It won't hurt to have it." He swallowed the last of his tea. He'd warmed it too much; it scalded his throat on the way down.
He told himself that that was the only part of him that hurt.
"Right." She nodded. "Tomorrow I'll make sure to talk to Yugoda. Or today, I guess. I've kept you up late enough."
"Last I checked, you weren't the one who showed up at my house in the middle of the night."
She laughed. "Fine. You've kept me up late enough."
"Sorry." He started clearing up what he could of the tea set, but she quickly washed it with a dancing stream of water and bent the dirty remnants into a basin.
"Don't worry about it. I rise with the moon anyway, remember?"
He rolled his eyes but smiled. "Trust me, I remember."
He'd never imagined they'd be able to joke about that comment, only a little over a year later. He'd never imagined he'd look at her and not see just a dangerous waterbender, but a… a good friend.
Someone who instead of fighting, he had almost died for.
His lightning scar seemed to itch, as it always did when he thought of that Agni Kai. Of all the stupid reasons to want to keep his scar, that was the stupidest.
Erasing the scar wouldn't erase the memories. It wouldn't change the past. She would always be a part of him, no matter what. He was beginning to wonder if even spirit water could fix that.
Or if he wanted it to.
But he had to hope it could, didn't he? Like water through his fingers, Katara would leave again. He couldn't keep clinging to the past.
"Zuko, wait." Katara's voice shook him from his thoughts. "I'm not letting you go back in that."
She was already across the room, where he'd remained standing in front of the fire. The flames extinguished with a sharp flick of his wrist. He left the sconces lit, though, not wanting to plunge the room into complete darkness.
She pulled a nearly folded parka from the trunk at the foot of her bed. After holding it up and inspecting its length, she tossed it to him.
"You'll be less noticeable this way. Everyone wears parkas at the North Pole. No one will think it's weird if you pull the hood up over your face."
He nodded. It was smart, definitely smarter than his pure black ensemble.
"You won't need it?"
"I have a spare. Besides, I wouldn't want you freezing out there."
"Firebenders don't freeze." He shrugged on the parka anyway. It was a little small, but it felt softer than it looked; thick white fur lined the inside. Some of Katara's clean scent still clung to it. He restrained himself from taking a deep breath.
So much for letting go.
"Look at that. Practically Water Tribe." She crossed her arms and smiled as she looked him over.
He ducked his head in embarrassment, feeling a little like a turtleduck with how the fluffy collar covered his face up to his ears.
"It's better than Earth Kingdom colors." He tugged on the too-short sleeves. "Thanks."
"You can thank me by not getting caught sneaking back to your room." She gently shoved him towards the door. He chuckled as she herded him out, barely managing to get out a "goodnight."
He took one deep breath and let it out, letting the freezing air clear his head again. He was right back where he'd started, still just as confused about what to do. Yet somehow, everything felt different.
This choice was his. He could determine his own destiny.
Maybe firebenders didn't freeze, but as he made his way back, he still felt warmer with her parka enveloping him.