Hakoda stared at his daughter in shock, though why he had expected any response other than anger from her when he was being so demanding and rude, she couldn't begin to imagine. She sat there, tapping her foot against the metal floor in impatience, waiting for him to speak. She wondered if he had expected her to get up and follow him to somewhere more private, but he hadn't asked, and she wasn't going to offer. If he wanted to do this in front of everyone and embarrass himself in front of his men, she wasn't going to stop him.
'Well, go on, talk," she prompted. His flabbergasted expression turned stern, and his blue eyes glinted with well-controlled anger.
"Katara," he started off in a low voice, yet it carried far in the deadly hush of the room, "Now I know that your Grandmother and I have taught you to be more respectful than that, and so did your mother." Katara felt a twinge in her heart at that, but her sorrow was drowned out by indignation. That had been a low blow—not only had he tried to guilt her into being obedient by bringing up her dead mother, but he was trying to embarrass her by reprimanding her about manners in front of the entire tribe.
"You knew full well that we were going to have to discuss this," he continued, "but being hostile about it is certainly not going to help your case." Her case? He made it sound like she had done something wrong!
"Well, dad, maybe I'll start being a little more respectful when you start respecting me," she spat. The corners of his lips turned down.
"What do you mean?" He asked, genuinely confused. Katara gave a short, harsh laugh of incredulity.
"What do I mean? I mean that you don't respect me, dad! You basically just ignored everything I had to say yesterday—you wouldn't listen! I already told you that Zuko is on our side, shouldn't that be enough?" She huffed and crossed her arms, looking up at him in disappointment. "Do you think I'm stupid or naive? Do you not trust me, dad?" She asked, hoping her voice didn't betray as much hurt as she felt.
Hakoda had a pained look in his eyes, but he shook his head. "I trust you, Katara, of course I trust you, and I know you're a sharp girl. But you have to understand—you're still young, you don't know these people like I do, you don't know what they're capable of. They are not the type to honor a truce," and at that, Zuko visibly flinched. "As soon as something better comes along, they will break it."
Katara fumed. How dare he. How dare he tell her what she did and didn't know—her of all people! She knew exactly what the Fire Nation was capable of, had known it since she was just six years old. So where, exactly, did her father get the gall to tell her that she didn't?
"You think I don't know that?" She yelled, standing up to look him straight in the eye. He didn't even blink, which only made her next words even angrier. "Do you really think I would trust just any firebender? You know how I feel about the Fire Nation! So if I'm telling you that one of them is on our side, don't you think that means that I must be absolutely sure about it?" There, her dad was a logical person—surely that would be enough to get him to at least think about it.
But Hakoda just shook his head again. "I know you're really sure about this, honey—believe me, I can tell." He placed his hand on her shoulder in a move that was probably meant to calm her, and the thinnest ghost of a smile appeared on his face before it disappeared into a worried frown. "But I'm still not convinced that having someone from the Fire Nation royal family aboard the ship with us is safe, or wise. And when it comes to your safety, I'd rather have you alive and mad at me than to get your way and be hurt because of it."
Katara felt a blank coldness come over her as she became acutely aware of how on her own she was at that moment, a young girl amidst a mob of men and warriors. It was akin to how she felt in the deepest time of the South Pole winter, curled up alone in her dark tent, under suffocating layers of fur that could never completely fend off that deep, pervasive chill.
That was it, then. Her father just flat out didn't trust her judgment. He was treating her conviction about Zuko's change of heart with aloof condescension, like it was some childish belief in a ghost story. And no matter what she said, he wouldn't change his mind about it.
But that sure as hell didn't mean she was going to stop trying.
She jerked her shoulder away from him, and Hakoda's face contorted with shock and hurt. Taking a step backwards and to the side to place herself a little more between her father and the now wide-eyed firebender, she balled up her fists at her side and widened her stance, ready for blows if it came down to that. She leaned forward, facing her father.
Rage drove out the cold in her gut and made her body tremble. At that moment, she almost felt as if she could have spit fire herself. "How can you be so… so…UGH!" She let out a frustrated growl. She couldn't think of a single word strong enough to describe the outrageousness of the man before her, so she switched tactics mid-sentence, opting instead to point out the stupidity of his reasoning.
"My safety? How helpless do you think I am? I am a MASTER WATERBENDER, for spirits sake!" And as if the universe decided to help prove her point, at that moment, all of the water in the room began to jump and twitch in time to her fury. "I KNOW how to take care of myself! I don't NEED any protection—not from you, not from anyone! What do you think I've been doing for the past few months, anyway? I've been traveling with the Avatar, I'm his waterbending teacher! Do you think we were ever safe, with the Fire Nation constantly on our tail? No! I can't tell you how many narrow escapes we've had!" Like the one they had just escaped from, but had her dad been worried about the ragged state they had shown up in yesterday? No, he decided that the person that helped them escape was a bigger problem.
She knew that everyone was probably staring at her now with their jaws on the floor, but she couldn't find it in herself to be embarrassed, or to even care. No, all she could really see right now was her father's face, which held an infuriating lack of shame for his mulish behavior.
"The siege of the North? I was there! I fought alongside all the other warriors and benders! I helped take down at least six different Fire Navy ships!" She jabbed a finger in her father's face. "So don't you tell me that I don't know what I'm talking about when it comes to fighting or safety, because I've been fighting, dad, I've been fighting hard, because I want this war to be over, just like we all do. And the best way for me to do that is to help Aang—whether it's by teaching him waterbending, orby making sure he gets a firebending teacher." She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice, emphasizing that she was absolutely serious in what she was saying.
"So if you want to stand there spewing all of your ridiculous reasons for why Zuko can't stay with us, go right on ahead. But I'm telling you right now that it doesn't matter—Zuko is an ally now, and we can't afford to turn our backs to him. He is going to help Aang master firebending, and he will be staying with us," she declared, then delivered the kicker. "I suppose, though, whether you kick us overboard or not is entirely up to you."
Her breath was a little uneven, and her throat felt raw from all of the yelling she had just done, but it was a pleasant ache, the kind she only got when she had vigorously exercised out all of her frustrations.
The line had been drawn in the snow now, clear enough for everyone to see. She glanced around briefly and caught Zuko's eyes—two wide, disbelieving golden discs among a sea of blue. Sokka was staring at her like she had just grown another head, and had actually turned around in his seat to watch the proceedings—completely ignoring his food.
The stunned silence at her bold declaration was like a physical presence in the air, and she could have sworn that the already stuffy room felt ten degrees hotter. Having let off quite a bit of steam in her tirade, she no longer felt as puffed up and fearless as she had while making her statement, and the crushing quiet was beginning to get to her.
Say something! Nervousness began to creep up her spine as she was left hanging, now doubting the wisdom of exploding like that in front of a good half of her native community.
"Hey, is this where the grub's at? I can—woah, hey, what's up with you guys? You're all vibrating like crazy…" Toph's loud, alto voice shattered the silence, and Katara and just about everyone else in the room turned to look at her. The blind earthbender was standing just inside the room, resting her palm against the metal lip of the doorway and frowning in concentration. She cocked her head.
"Sugar Queen, you been fighting or something? Your heart's jumping all over the place…" It took Katara a slow second to realize that Toph was addressing her, and she gave herself a mental shake to get back into gear.
"No, Toph, I was just telling my dad that he can't kick Zuko off the ship," she informed the earthbender lightly, priding herself on the control she held over her voice.
Toph frowned even deeper and began strutting—there was no other word for it, really—towards the center of the commotion, stopping next to the bench where Zuko still sat stiffly. Toph struck a pose, arms crossed across her chest, hip jutting out to the side, and turned her firm gaze towards Hakoda, her eyes level with his waist.
"Why d'ya wanna kick him off the ship? What did he do?" Katara smirked. Leave it to Toph to get straight to the heart of the matter, and for once, she was immensely glad for the younger girl's blunt manner. She was also happy that she had some backup, now, as Sokka hadn't even attempted to aid her. Zuko had also been frustratingly silent, even though it was his fate that was being debated.
For his part, Hakoda's jaw worked silently, maybe having trouble coming up with a reason that the firebender needed to be sent away that wasn't 'he was born'.
Katara decided to answer for him. "He hasn't done anything." Which, was technically a lie, but Katara didn't think that bringing up Zuko's past pursuits would be very helpful at the moment. "But my dad is convinced that he's going to kill us in our sleep or something," she said bitingly, sending the man a glare for good measure. To her satisfaction, his rigid expression wavered slightly.
Toph blew her bangs out of her eyes, a gesture Katara had learned signified annoyance, then she scoffed, muttering something unintelligible. She suddenly leaned to the side and slapped her hand on the metal bench, inches away from Zuko. He jumped at her sudden proximity, hands half-raised to defend himself, but Toph made no move to get closer to him.
"Hey, Hothead," Toph addressed him, turning to stare in his general direction. "You planning on killing us in our sleep?"
Zuko blinked rapidly, his face shifting between confusion and annoyance and nervousness, until he finally spluttered, "No! I wouldn't—I mean, why would you even—No!" Toph narrowed her eyes, drumming her fingers against the steel of the bench, but otherwise remained still. Zuko looked at her, perplexed, and glanced around at their audience, wary. Katara saw Toph's face screw up in frustration and the earthbender growled, abruptly turning towards her. She waved her hand in a sharp sweeping gesture, drawing the stares of the Water Tribesmen.
"Okay, show's over people—now everyone get out. I can't work under these conditions, what with you guys making Sparky here jumpier than a Rabbaroo." Katara suddenly understood what Toph had been trying to do, and she grinned in triumph. Now she could give her dad solid proof that Zuko was—relatively—trustworthy. The waterbender looked to her father with a smug grin. Hakoda's frown was impatient and curious at the same time, casting glances at the little earthbender every now and again.
"Toph is a master earthbender—she can feel the vibrations of just about anything through earth or metal, including how a person's heart is beating, and their breathing," Katara explained. The warrior looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
"What does that have to do with anything?" He asked in a tone that sounded condescending to Katara's ears, and she bristled, her briefly-settled anger rising to the surface again.
"I wasn't done explaining, dad," she bit out, flexing her fingers, which had been sorely aching to water-whip something—or someone—into oblivion. "It means that when Toph is listening to someone's heart and breathing, and they lie, she can tell." Understanding and amazement dawned in her father's eyes, but it was soon marred by doubt. He looked down dubiously at the green-clad girl, who was now tapping her foot in impatience, waiting for her command to be followed.
Katara felt like beating her head into the table—or maybe her father's, or maybe even Zuko's: this whole ordeal was kind of both of their faults, so…
No, Katara. She growled. Stupid conscience. Breathe in, breathe out… calm… gooooood… now, think this through…
She sighed. Okay, so, she had a way to verify that Zuko really was sincere about being on their side now, but if her dad didn't believe that Toph could actually do such a thing, what good would it be? She ground her teeth together. Why, oh why did she have to be born into a family of stupid, stubborn, hogmonkey-headed, infuriating men?
As if he heard her mental pleas to the spirits, Sokka chose that moment to rise from his seat and address their father.
"It's true dad—really! I've seen it in action. Toph's like a… a living lie-detector!" Sokka grinned in that stupidly endearing way he grinned when he thought he'd done something clever, but Katara could only glare at him sourly.
Oh, so now he decides to chime in. Thanks for all the help, big bro.
But at Sokka's reassurance, Katara saw something solidify in her father's eyes, which she recognized a second later as conviction. And part of her whispered that she should be glad that her father had accepted Toph's abilities as genuine, but that part of her was also busy hiding in a dark closet in her mind, cowering from her rage.
Oh, so he'll believe SOKKA but not ME? Katara seethed. That was just so typical. Oh, you're a girl, you're so young, you don't know what you're talking about…
It was like the North Pole all over again! She was so freaking sick of all this chauvinism! How many times did she have to prove herself before people—including her own father!—would take her seriously?
Meanwhile, her father nodded. "All right then, let's move to another room on the ship, where we can do this without distractions," he addressed—ordered them, looking at Toph. He started to take a step towards the door, leading them out of the room, and Katara felt the last vestiges of her control snap.
"NO!" She yelled, stomping her foot. "We are doing this RIGHT NOW, RIGHT HERE, and we are ENDING this whole ridiculous thing!" She whipped around to face her father, trying to pin him to the spot with imaginary ice daggers.
"YOU! STAY AND LISTEN!" She caught his gobsmacked expression before she whirled around to face the rest of the gawking Tribesmen. "EVERYONE ELSE—OUT! NOW!" They paused for a moment, and in their second of inaction, she seriously considered flinging every single one of the men out of there with her water. But at some unseen signal, the warriors began to shuffle out, cutting across the room as far away from her as was possible in the enclosed space.
"You tell 'em, Sugar Queen," Toph cheered dryly. Katara huffed, scowling at the girl. It was hard to tell if the girl actually approved of her tirade, or if Toph was just mocking her. But some of her anger drained away, at seeing the earthbenders' cheeky grin. It felt a little better, knowing she wasn't alone in this battle.
By this point, Katara deemed that the room was sufficiently emptied of third-party observers, and the interrogation could begin. She snapped her head around to the fire Prince.
"Zuko!" She said forcefully, leaning down a bit to his sitting level. He tensed up at her sudden movement, looking up at her warily. "Give me a completely honest answer," she ordered, looking him straight in the eye. She paused for effect, then:
"Are you going to betray us?" Toph had replaced her hand on the bench, and was concentrating deeply, reading Zuko's every muscle movement, scanning for any deception. From the corner of her eye, Katara saw her father standing there stiffly, his arms crossed over his chest imposingly. He looked down at the firebender unsympathetically, expectantly, waiting for an answer.
Katara, too, was impatient. How many seconds had passed since she had asked the question? Ten? Twenty? As the seconds ticked by and the teen still did nothing more than sit there sweating silently, his face distraught, Katara felt a niggling, cold fear creep into the back of her mind.
She was so sure; she just knew that the troubled boy had been telling the truth when he'd said he'd changed… But what if he hadn't? What if this really was just another convoluted plan to 'capture the Avatar'? What if he was just using them?
Anger shook her again. If he was planning on betraying them, if he had just been stringing her along this whole time, if he made her look like a fool after openly putting so much trust in him… Well, her father wouldn't have to worry about throwing him overboard anymore. Because she would make sure they never saw hide nor hair of him again.
There wouldn't even be that much of him left to find.
Katara was about two seconds away from blowing up at the prince, her frustration having reached its' breaking point, when Zuko suddenly closed his eyes, his nervous expression evaporating. He took a deep, cleansing breath, then another, and his face relaxed into a mask of calm. Utter peace seemed to wash over his entire posture, and when his eyes reopened a few seconds later, they shone with an intensity and sincerity that froze Katara to the spot when they focused in on her.
"I promise, no, I swear to you, that I have no intentions of harming your family," he uttered, and Katara felt the slightest bit of relief when Zuko withdrew his penetrating gaze from her and swept it over to her father. They stared at each other stubbornly, proudly, each unflinching. Katara could almost see the battle of wills being exchanged as they stood there, waiting for Toph's verdict. And after a few tense seconds, she spoke:
"He's telling the truth," she declared, and Zuko relaxed visibly. Hakoda just frowned again, looking almost disappointed.
Katara had expected to feel relieved and triumphant when Toph proved her right. She thought she would feel that smug pleasure that came from winning a difficult battle, as she had just now against her father. But she felt none of those things, only a sort of burned-out hollowness, filled with the simmering remains of her anger and hurt and frustration.
In short, she felt terrible.
"Great. Wonderful. Glad we could get that out of the way," she rambled, suddenly pressed by the urge to get the hell away from there. She started marching towards the exit, stepping hastily around the edge of the table that was blocking her way, but a firm, careful hand caught her shoulder, putting just enough pressure on it to keep her from moving forward without resorting to ducking under it.
"Katara, wait," her father began, but Katara turned around, holding a hand up to his face, cutting him off.
"No, dad. We talked, Zuko's staying, end of story. I'm not hungry any more," lie, "but I'm still tired. I'm going back to bed." She turned on her heel and left, trying to ignore the weary expression of her father's face, and focused only on the door.
As she sped away, she noticed with a start that Sokka was still in the room, hanging back near the doorway with an uneasy grimace. Katara narrowed her eyes. Right, she had been angry at him, too.
"Thanks for all the help back there, Sokka," she hissed as she walked past him. He drew back a little at the venom in her tone, and began to voice some sort of whiny protest.
"Hey! What…" But she was in no mood to bicker with her brother, as good as part of her suggested it might make her feel. So she just kept on walking until she couldn't hear him anymore.
She remembered vaguely the way she and Zuko had come up—damn, she really should have been paying attention to where she was going. Stupid Prince—but her remaining rage fueled her to keep storming down the metal corridors, and was only ignited further after each dead end or wrong turn. She passed by several of the Tribsemen who were still loitering around the halls after she had evicted them from the galley, but like before, they just got out of her way and made no attempt to speak to her. She honestly didn't know what she would have done if they hadn't.
Finally, after nearly fifteen minutes longer than it should have taken, Katara emerged from the tower onto the deck of the ship. From there, she knew her way back to her bedroom, which she barreled towards with great haste.
Winding down the metal stairs into the dank, dark underbelly of the ship, Katara's thoughts plummeted.
How could everything get so messed up so fast? One minute, she's getting ready to plan the battle that will finally bring peace to the world and bring her family together again, and now…?
Now, in a cruel twist of fate, her family was back together again, but it was not the happy reunion she'd often daydreamed about.
Idiots! They're all so insufferable!
How could he? How could he be that way? These were the people she loved, so how could they all make her feel so miserable? She had been yearning to see her father for two years, since the very day he left, and now that she finally could she could barely stand the sight of him. Every word he spoke to her prodded embers of rage nestled deep in her heart, even when she logically knew that they shouldn't. Everything about him made her angry; from the way his voice was deep and familiar, to his easy smile, to his carefree laughter—how can he laugh when…when…—to the way he seemed to have aged far more than anyone had a right to in such a short amount of time, to the way she could see herself in him, and even more of Sokka…
And her brother! Why hadn't he helped her? He had been sitting right there the whole time and hadn't bothered to even throw a word in until Toph had shown up. She looked after him, mended his clothes, cooked his food, and wrapped his wounds for all this time and he can't even help her do something that he knows needs to be done too? So what if he didn't like Zuko? Despite her brother's general disdain for bending, she knew that Sokka knew just how important it was for Aang to master all of the bending disciplines before the comet came. So what reason could he have possibly had for keeping silent?
Speaking of which… Oh, sure, Zuko had just been so chatty when it had been time for him to mock her, but when she's defending him to her own father? Not a word. He just sat there, twitching! Even when they asked him a direct question he took forever to spit it out!
Infuriating! Everyone on this ship was infuriating! Everyone around her made her want to hit something!
It was probably for the best that she had come down here right away, the cool, collected side of her mind—(quiet as it was)—reasoned. She had stormed out of the room, even though when her father had grabbed her shoulder, she had desperately wanted to hug him tight and never let go. She had left Toph, even though she had wanted to sincerely thank the girl for all of her help. She had left Zuko, even though she had wanted to corner him and demand to know why he hadn't defended himself when her father was threatening to send him away. She had swept past Sokka, even though she had wanted scream at him and chew him out for leaving her hanging like that.
All at once the magnitude of what had just happened came crashing down on her, and she was crippled with disappointment and grief. Her eyes prickled.
Why? Why had it happened like that? Why had she yelled at her father and brother and everyone? She didn't want to be so angry at them. It hurt. She wanted them to be a family again, she wanted him to be there with her and Sokka and Gran-gran and mom and…
And she wanted to tell him so many things. She wanted to tell him about all of her incredible adventures with Aang and Sokka and Toph. She wanted to tell him what had happened to her since he'd been away, and how much she had changed.
When she had imagined telling him that she was now, finally, a master waterbender, she had told him with dignity, giving him an expert demonstration of her skills, and he had looked at her with pride shining in his eyes.
She hated that it happened like this—that he had found out because she had screamed it at him to defend her insulted strength.
Why couldn't anything ever turn out right? Why did her father have to treat her like she was an ignorant, helpless child? Because of him, she had had to stop being a helpless child! It was his fault that she'd had to grow up so fast! He couldn't have possibly expected to abandon her and then her not learn to fend for herself in his absence!
She hated that man.
She loved him so, so much.
Katara finally arrived back at the door to her room. She flung it open. Stepped inside. Closed it with a screech. Shoved the lock in place. She half-ran, half-walked to her bed and threw herself onto it, curling up into a ball in the center. She closed her eyes, drew her sheets up close to her in a protective cocoon, and let out a deep, shuddering breath.
Then, and only then, did she let herself cry.
~o0o~
So far, things… were not going so well.
Zuko sighed to himself as he shoveled another load of coal into the roaring furnace, squinting his eyes at the resulting rush of sizzling hot air that came gusting up from the glowing pit of flame.
He was currently in the boiler room of the ship, fulfilling his self-assigned duty of maintaining the fuel levels of the vessel. He had volunteered himself for the task shortly after what he now thought of as 'the midday breakfast fiasco'. Despite the grudging, shaky trust in him that the Chieftain had offered after Katara had left, Zuko still felt compelled to prove himself to the man. He had wanted to show that he was willing to do his part and be helpful, so as a gesture of goodwill, he had offered to take care of the boiler room.
Shoveling coal was one of the hardest, dirtiest, and most despised jobs on the ship. It was grueling labor, and the room was incredibly hot, so it came as no surprise to him when the man took him up on his offer without hesitation.
Zuko had actually never worked the boiler room before—back when he had regular access to one, he had been a Prince, and royalty didn't shovel their own coal. But he knew enough about mechanics to figure out which knob and lever did what, and had barged into the boiler room back on his ship to demand why they weren't moving faster often enough that he knew how much fuel was required to move a certain size ship a set distance at a fixed speed.
He didn't really mind the task so much, though. Being a firebender, the heat had little effect on him—though he was now sweating profusely, despite having stripped down to only his pants and some thick, leather boots he had found among the loose belongings in his room. It also gave him a chance to exercise his sorely underused muscles, which had atrophied somewhat in the past few months of often poor-nutrition and lack of regular bending drills. And though he couldn't practice any actual firebending here—(because really, who wouldbe stupid enough to shoot giant bouts of flame in a small, pressurized room brimming with fuel?)—he was able to relieve some of the strain of going so long without manipulating his element by flicking away the errant tongues of flame that occasionally fluttered too high out of the mouth of the furnace.
The fact that this job also isolated him from everyone else on the ship and provided him with the silence and peace of mind he needed to actually hear himself think and figure out what the hell he was doing, was just an added plus.
He grunted as he shoveled another load in. The strain of physical labor actually helped him think—sharpening his focus and drowning out all of the buzzing in his head until only the most vital, basic problems remained. It was still hard, though, to sort through all of the conflicting emotions that his current position evoked in him. He felt the despair of knowing that he had lost most of what mattered to him—maybe everything, if he never saw his Uncle again.
Yet at the same time, and for reasons he didn't fully understand, he felt more hope and happiness than he had in his whole life, save for the times he had been with his mother, and the morning he had woken from his fever dream.
He paused, leaning against his shovel, thinking about it. In fact, he had been feeling much better in general ever since he recovered from that incident. Even his low days had been sky-high compared to what he went through before. It was an odd feeling, like something heavy had been taken from his chest, something constricting… or maybe, more like, something had been filled. At any rate, the vague impressions he remembered from his dreams were both disturbing and comforting, leaving him with the notion that whatever knowledge or insights into his mind they contained must have been vitally important.
Which made it all the more frustrating that he couldn't recall them. He'd had an epiphany of some sort, and then promptly forgotten it. He could tell that something was different, in the way he saw things, or in the way he reacted, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what.
The person that is the greatest mystery to a man is often himself.
Zuko sighed and resumed his shoveling. With the thousands of proverbs his Uncle had delivered over the years, some of them were bound to stick with him. Every so often, one would filter through his memory at the most random times. It wouldn't be so aggravating if he could understand the half of them. But right now, with his Uncle no longer with him to guide him in person, the best he could do was to remember his past lessons. Fortunately, this one was fairly straightforward, and it was actually relevant.
So, it would probably take some time for him to sort his thoughts and motives out. Luckily, it looked like he would be spending a lot of time alone, as he had no intention of coming in contact any more than was necessary with the still-somewhat mistrusting Water Tribe men It would give him plenty of time to meditate, hopefully enough to let him sort out this mess before he did something he would regret later on, after he figured out…whatever it was he was supposed to figure out.
He was part of the way there, at least. Back in the galley, when Katara had asked him point-blank if he intended on betraying them, he had panicked. No, he could have said; he didn't intend to betray them…but then, he also didn't really intend not to betray them, either. If it somehow came down to either them or his Uncle, he knew what he would do.
They are not the type to honor a truce…
Zuko winced, the Chief's sharp words cutting him with shame. Honor. He had to use that word. Because that was what it always came down to, it seemed. It had made him feel even guiltier when Katara had vehemently defended him—she had been absolutely sure that he wouldn't betray them, that he would do the honorable thing.
But Zuko wasn't so sure he had any more honor left to lose.
So when it came down to it, when he had no choice but to deliver an absolute truth to a question he had no real answer to, he had had to stretch it a little. It had taken every grain of his self-discipline to center himself in the face of blind panic, along with several exercises borrowed from his firebending meditation techniques to control and dampen his emotions before he could find his voice.
And it had been the truth, what he'd spoken—if it had been anything less, he'd be swimming back to shore or worse by now. He couldn't promise them that he would never betray them, but he did know one thing: even if he had to leave them, even if he did end up, somehow, miraculously, back in the Fire Nation, he would never want to hurt them.
Unbidden, his thoughts drifted back to Song, and her mother, and all the kindness and hospitality they had shown him and his Uncle.
And how he had thrown it in their face.
Guilt and shame and regret were often associated with many of his memories, but they were particularly strong in this one. He had made that mistake once, and he didn't want to make it again.
(Though sometimes, he wished, for once, he could get it right the first time around.)
It still floored him every time he thought about how much trust the waterbender was willing to put in him, in such a short amount of time. How she was willing to defend him, even after everything he'd put her through. How she could laugh and joke and be kind to him. How, she was even willing to put her own reservations aside, just for the sake of giving him a second chance, because she'd said he deserved it…
How amusing, Azula's snide voice rang out in his head. And some people wonder why it is that the other Nations were so easily crushed under our foot. Kindness? Trust? They make you weak. Just look at how easy it was to get them to believe you. They are a stupid, mindless flock of Koalambs, letting a Tigerwolf into their midst, and will remain blissfully unaware of the danger until they are ripped apart. You've done well so far, Zu-zu—don't waste the opportunity before you…
He could—it was true, she did trust him more than was probably wise, like her father had said. Though Zuko was glad Katara had defended him, he had found that Hakoda's answers sounded more like the truth than he wanted to admit. He did have a golden opportunity to betray them, and it frightened him to know that.
Because he couldn't completely trust himself not to act on it.
It would only be right. If she is so weak as to trust you, then she deserves to be betrayed.
No, no, no! He shook his head in frustration. It wasn't true at all! She wasn't weak! She was strong, he knew that from personal experience. Even when her bending abilities had been laughable at best, she had still had one of the most defiant and spirited personalities he had ever seen. And now she had the skill to back her temper up.
And oh, had her fury been something to behold. Standing alone in a room full of warrior men twice her size, she had faced them all down without flinching, and won. For the fifteenth time, he reminded himself how immensely glad he was not to have her as an enemy.
And though he had been extremely mortified by her behavior at the time, with everyone staring at them like that, he couldn't exactly blame them. He had been staring, too.
Seeing her get so worked up like that for his sake made him feel… good. Not quite happy, but still…good. And something else, too. For reasons entirely unrelated to what she had been fighting about, he realized that seeing her angry, period, made him feel unsettled in the strangest way. In fact, seeing her angry, flustered, embarrassed, indignant, or petulant, and knowing he had caused it somehow… well, he liked it.
Why he did, was something he entirely refused to think about right now.
Or ever.
…
…
She's a feisty one, all right.
He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and drive his Uncle's voice from his head, and immediately regretted it as he was reminded that he still had a rather large bruise there, courtesy of Katara.
Ah, she whipped you, did she?
Scratch that—he was pinching the bruise, no matter how much it hurt. Maybe the pain would snap him back to normal… whatever that was.
Focus, focus, focus…
Right. He had sworn not to hurt Katara and her family, and he had every intention of carrying through with that promise, come what may. It was the least she deserved for her kindness, and it was only right to repay her for it.
Things would be different this time—he was going to stop doing nothing but hurt the people who tried to help him. He wouldn't—wouldn't—mess this up, because it very well might be the last chance he ever had.
Zuko had a shovelful of coal halfway to the furnace when the door suddenly swung wide open, slamming into the wall with a screeching clang that was only slightly quieter than the angry yell that soon followed it.
"Aha! There you are!"
Zuko dropped the shovel in surprise; the only thing registering in his adrenaline-blasted mind was the mass of brown and blue Water Tribesman standing in the doorway, arms raised to strike.
~o0o~
A/N – Wow, this chapter was hard to write… also, before you get too mad at Hakoda, keep this in mind—he really doesn't know just how much Katara has grown up in the two years since he's been away. In his mind, she is still his baby girl, and he just wants to protect her in the best way he knows how—fighting the Fire Nation. And, yes, he is just a little bit chauvinistic, but hey, Sokka had to get it from somewhere.
I realize the pacing is a little slow so far, and I apologize for that. I'm also sorry that I can't get the updates out any faster than this, but I do work a full-time (48 hours!) job, and it takes me at least an hour to write 500 words, so multiply that by twelve or more… plus, I don't like sacrificing quality for quantity.
Also, check out the Chong Sheng trilogy by RachelTheDemon. It's some goooooood stuff.
Hmm…. What else…? Oh yeah, you should leave me lots of reviews