There are no windows, but she can tell by the pull in her blood and the fatigue in her bones that the moon is high. She has spent what feels like hours pushing her awareness into the flesh of the body before her, renewing damaged muscles and pinching off broken capillaries. By now, she feels she has mapped every vein and artery, and she is sure that no other person will ever share such intimate knowledge of his heart. Yet his eyes remain closed and he has not stirred.
She sways on her feet. How long as she been standing? She needs to rest, if only for a moment. She finds a chair in the corner of the room and carries it next to the bed. Before sitting, she pulls the blankets up to his waist and lays his hands on top. It is then that she sees it.
The fingers of his right hand are curled inward, burned and blistered. She thinks of Aang and the exit wound on his foot, and chastises herself for not thinking of checking him elsewhere for injuries once he was stabilized. She sighs wearily. At least I can heal this one sitting down.
She settles into the chair and pulls his hand into her lap. The burns on his fingertips are deep and require the most concentration, but when the water finally falls away they have disappeared. She turns his hand over in hers, checking the fingernails and the skin between his fingers. She runs her fingers gently over his palm. Perfect.
On impulse, she laces the fingers with hers, studying the size of his knuckles and the contrast of his skin against hers. She bites her lip and stares transfixed at their hands.
"I'm sorry, Zuko. I wish… I wish I knew how to make this better."
She doesn't have to look at him to know there's no response.
"I trained in the healing hut up North, did you know that? Not for very long though. Master Pakku – my grandfather now, I guess, you met him – he was my waterbending master. He didn't want to teach me at first, he said that women couldn't fight. But I convinced him." She smiles at the memory. "In the meantime I trained in the healing hut with Yagoda." Her smile falters. "I guess I should have spent more time there. Maybe I would know what to do now."
She knows he can't hear her, but she continues anyway. "You just…you always bounce back, you know? Every time we thought you were far behind us, there you were. In the forest, in the North, in the desert… and in Ba Sing Se."
Her voice trails off and she looks at him. She unlaces their hands and sets his on the bed. She twists in her chair and reaches out, tentatively running a finger over the smooth pink skin where his eyebrow should have been. She rests her hand on his cheek and lets her thumb trace a line across his bottom lip.
"I wanted so badly to heal you then. Would it have made a difference?"
The warmth of his breath on her hand as he exhales brings her back into the moment, and she withdraws her hand. She stands up and steps away from the bed, feeling as though she is suddenly too close.
"No, probably not."
Her chest constricts a little with hurts old and new. She takes a deep breath and stares up into the high ceiling, looking for a distraction in the vaulted beams. She exhales loudly. Her eyes bounce around the room's sparse but elegant furnishings, the high polish on the carved wood. "Look at this place, Zuko. I can't believe you lived here." Her mind twists on the tense. Does he live here again? Will he live here again? She quickly banishes the thought.
She doesn't go back to him, not right away. Instead, she slowly paces the length of the room. She passes a tapestry depicting a map of the Fire Nation which hangs above a mahogany desk. She stops to examine one of the brushes lying on the desk's surface before carefully placing it back in a row with the others. A large potted plant with broad leaves sits not far away; she wonders absentmindedly if he watered it or if that was someone else's job. At the back of the room are double doors and she glances back toward the center of the room where Zuko lies before pulling one open. A voice inside her head that sounds suspiciously like Toph tells her she shouldn't be snooping, but she ignores it.
The light is dim, but even in the dark she can tell it's the largest closet she's ever seen. Boots and pointy-toed shoes line the floor along with boxes and trunks. An array of burgundy and gold robes hang along the walls, with a few pure white ones toward the back. She reaches out to touch one and the fabric runs through her fingers like the water she bends. She tries to imagine what it was like for him to dress in these clothes each day, to wake up surrounded by silk. What it was like for him to trade it in for traveling clothes and the furry back of a flying bison. She'd have to ask him if he ever woke up. When, her mind corrects. When he wakes up.
To the other side of the closet is a crowd of armor stands displaying breastplates and shoulder guards worked with metal and leather. Matching helmets line a shelf above. From their condition these have never seen battle, and she's not even sure if they've ever been worn. The designs are unfamiliar save one. Her brother's voice rings in her head: "just some angry freak with a ponytail who's tracked us all over the world." Her lips quirk at the memory. How frightening he had seemed then. How easy it had been to hate him. Was it only less than a year ago? She marvels at how much things had changed. She tries to recall how it felt, but images of a shaggy-haired boy telling half-formed jokes about tea appear instead.
She closes the door and makes her way back to Zuko. She is about to sit down in her chair, until she notices a small nightstand situated on the other side of the bed. She knows she probably shouldn't, but she goes over to it anyway. Inlays of red dragons dance across its surface, and there is a single drawer. She pulls it open as quietly as possible.
The drawer is empty save for two objects. His crown she notices first. She picks it up and feels the smooth weight of the gold in her palm. She tries to imagine him wearing it but the closest she can come is to remember the severe topknot he used to have. She sets it back in the drawer, careful to wipe the fingerprints off its surface. The second object is a small, square piece of parchment lying face down. She retrieves it and turns it over to discover a family portrait.
Her eyes go first to Ozai, his face younger but still stern and hard. Next to Ozai sits a beautiful woman, her face kind and gentle, if not a little sad. That's her, she thinks with a start, that's Zuko's mom. Her hand travels unconsciously to the pendant at her throat. She closes her eyes briefly and tries to picture her own mother, but the vision is hazy. Looking back at the brushstrokes she wonders if Zuko knows how lucky he is to have even this much.
Below his mother sits Azula. Even in her youth, her eyes betrayed her cleverness and arrogance. Finally she focuses on Zuko. She thinks he can't be older than ten. His father's hand is on his shoulder and he looks uncomfortable, his hands twisting in his lap. His face is blank and unblemished. It feels strange looking at a childhood version of Prince Zuko. No, not a prince, not yet, she reminds herself. Still important, still royalty, but not yet destined to be the Fire Lord's son. Her face twists as she considers this, still not sure how that came to be. Her eye's travel back to his father. How would his life have been different if he had made different choices? How would all of their lives have been different? She looks over at Zuko and sees the rippled flesh that covers half of his face. Tendrils of anger curl in her chest for just a moment before she replaces the portrait and closes the drawer.
"Zuko, I sincerely hope that Aang made the right decision. You deserve justice."
She jolts as she listens to her own words. Guilt invades her mind as she realizes that this is the first time she has really considered Aang since they had arrived at the palace. She sinks down onto the side of the bed. Where was he? Was he okay? Did he even fight the Fire Lord? She is Aang's strongest supporter, his closest friend. Her faith in him is strong, but she can't erase the trickles of doubt and fear that she feels, not only for him, but for herself, her friends, and the whole world.
The sense of helplessness returns, but she chooses not to let it overtake her. She is only one person, and she cannot save the whole world, not this time. All she can do right now is focus on her small part of it, right now, here in this room.
She turns on the bed and sits cross-legged facing Zuko. She reaches over and checks him again; his breathing is low and even, though his pulse remains weak. She pulls the water to her and resumes her work.
The night wears on, and in the end her eyes and limbs grow heavy. The adrenaline that fed her has long since worn off. She barely has the energy to send the water back into the bowl before lying down. A distant part of her mind that sounds like her father tells her that this is improper, that she should sleep somewhere else. She is too tired to care. She reaches over and gives Zuko's hand a quick squeeze.
"Don't…don't go anywhere, okay?"
She falls asleep.
Her eyes open slowly. Somewhere behind her a lamp burns low, and her surroundings are dim. She can't be sure how long she's been asleep, but her limbs feel heavy and ache when she stretches. She lies still and listens to the sound of Zuko's breathing. She knows she should get up, but her body refuses to cooperate. I'll just lie here a few more minutes.
She rolls over and looks at him. In this moment, her mind still cloudy from sleep, she is filled with the strange sensation that this could be any day: that he is not hurt, that she is not waiting to find out the fate of the world, that there is something perfectly normal about all of this. That a part of her wants there to be something perfectly normal about all of this. Watching the rise and fall of his chest, it feels as if he really is just sleeping and all she has to do is reach out and touch him, that if she does his eyes will blink open and he will smile at her.
Hesitantly she reaches out and shakes his arm. "Zuko?"
His head rolls to the side, but his eyes remain closed. She knows it was silly to expect anything different, but the disappointment makes her chest ache all the same.
She frowns and whispers to him. "How can I make this right? What am I supposed to do?"
She reaches for him, but stops when she hears commotion in the hallway. She holds her breath and listens hard. It is the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps. And they are coming closer.
She scrambles out of the bed and summons her water. She curses that there isn't more; all she has is what little remains in her pouch and the water she has been using to heal Zuko. With quiet steps she inches toward the door, water at the ready. She puts her ear against the door and listens.
Someone bangs on the door and she jumps back. Her heart races and she glances back at Zuko. This gives her strength, somehow. Maybe she can't save him, but she can at least match his courage. She turns back to the door and firms her stance.
More banging. And then: "Katara? Are you in there? Open the door!"
Sokka. She can't get to the door fast enough. She sends her water back into her pouch and struggles with the iron bar before throwing open the doors.
She sees her brother first, a figure in familiar blue against a sea of red. Something inside her cracks.
"Man, Katara, could you take any longer? Toph was about to metalbend the – oof!" She launches herself at him.
She is laughing as she squeezes him; the stretch of the smile on her face feels foreign. "You're okay! I can't believe you're okay!"
"Hey, save some for the rest of us, Sugar Queen."
She releases Sokka and sees the rest of her friends: The impact of the battle is visible on all of them; their clothes are torn in places and for the first time she notices the bandages on her brother's leg. They look weary and hurt but they are smiling and they are here.
She hugs them each in turn. Suki embraces her quickly before returning to Sokka's side to help him stand, and Toph surprises her with the strength of her arms. And then there is Aang. He shifts in her vision: at once he is strong and older than his years, but his sheepish smile and the pink in his cheeks make him seem like the boy that he is. She can't help but fall into his arms. He grips her fiercely, and when she steps back he keeps a hand on her shoulder. She smiles at them all. As if on cue, they all move forward at once and fall into a group embrace. It feels strong and it feels right. Except one person is missing and she isn't the only one to notice.
Her brother looks around. "Hey, where's Zuko? Come on, Zuko, you know you're supposed to be a part of group hugs too! Where ya at?"
Her body stiffens and she pulls back. The color drains from Toph's face and she points to the inside of the room. They all turn to look. She is stunned to see that Zuko isn't alone. Iroh sits next to the bed, his face a grim mask as he clutches Zuko's hand in both of his own. A few dry gray hairs have worked their way out of his topknot and stick out at odd angles. He stares blankly at the floor, the dirty and torn edges of his blue robes pooling at his feet.
Sokka's face drops. "Oh man…"
The words come spilling out. "I – Azula challenged him, there was nothing I could do, she shot lightening at him – "
Aang looks startled. "She shot lightening at him? He redirected it though, right?"
"He – well yes, but –"
Toph interrupts her sputtering, always one to get to the heart of the matter. "Is he going to be okay?"
"He – " She stops. It is on the tip of her tongue to explain it all, but she realizes with sudden clarity the truth she has been avoiding all along: that any explanation she could give would end with the same conclusion, that none of her healing or training or hope has done anything to open his eyes. The seeds of doubt and worry that were scattered in her mind – the ones that she had dismissed, because of course he was going to be fine - take root all at once and bury themselves deep. She looks at her friends and feels ashamed. Her face crumples as she chokes out the only answer she has.
"I don't know."
The strength and hope she had drawn from her friends abandons her. She feels Aang's arms come up around her as she cries.