Rapture
On the peace conference final night, there's a ball. It's no small extravaganza—everyone visiting the city and everyone living in the city is invited. As Katara enters the ballroom, she cannot help but gasp in awe at its enormous size. It's so ridiculously huge, the ceilings so vastly high, that she associates a certain emptiness with it. The ballroom is grand and showy and everything it should be, but Katara shakes her head because this isn't a dance—not a real dance, not like that one time in the cave where she and Aang and all the Firebender children danced and discovered their freedom.
She smiles to herself as she spots Aang. He comes bounding over to her like a dog to its master, and she imagines him as a puppy polar bear dog—always happy, always there, always greeting her and loving her and wanting to play. After a second she thinks that she shouldn't assign Aang the role of a dog, because he's so much more—his freedom is true freedom because it has no limits. Aang is untethered.
In his exuberance, Aang scoops Katara up in his arms and practically glides into the center of the dance floor. It doesn't matter that he hasn't asked her to dance, for she dances anyway. How could she refuse him and his freedom? They are flying, a whirl of royal blue (a beautiful dress, one of Katara's mother's old ones) and vibrant orange (the traditional monk attire). They become a greenish-brownish blur, and as the song's tempo increases, Katara starts to feel dizzy.
Then the key change comes, and the band hammers away with frenzy. Katara gives up trying to keep up with the footwork and lets Aang's deft hands guide her as the two glide across the floor, a tornado amid the red-covered Fire nobles. She feels like a helpless bird flitting about in the center of a storm. A storm amid red skies, red floors and red ceilings that are too high, and red people all over—and she in the center, a tiny little thing turning and twisting so fast that she doesn't know up from down anymore. Is that the roof? Is that the wall?
Is that the floor? Why yes, it must be, for her feet have stopped their crazed pitter-patter, and she is quite stationary. Aang beams at her and the room around him, joining in the applause coming from all the dancers. The sound is enormous—in this cathedralish room, the sound echoes and echoes like voices of the past sometimes do. She rubs her head, gives a weak smile to Aang, and stumbles over to the side of the room where chairs lie in waiting as a place of refuge for weary dancers. She collapses into one with a contented sigh and simply does not care about the dirty looks she gets for her unladylike posture.
She snuggles quietly into the plush chair, giving a quick massage to her temples as the band strikes up another lively beat. Katara stays in that position quite contentedly for some time. Eventually her eyelids droop, and she feels very warm despite her attire.
###
A hand on her shoulder jostles her awake. Scared, she launches herself out of the chair and into the hard chest of a someone, someone who is dressed nicely in red, who is considerably taller than her but not altogether unfamiliar. She murmurs into his chest, looks up at his laughing eyes and angry scar that's not so bad, that's faded a bit and not so severe as she always has seen it.
He chuckles. "Tired?" He's not smiling, but the corners of his lips tug up just a little bit.
She knows him enough to recognize that, while he's not really comfortable at this type of function, he's amused enough being with her. The realization travels through her like electricity, and her head tilts back even more with a little spunk.
"It's been a long day, but I'll live. You, however…" She doesn't finish her sentence. The teasing undertone pleases Zuko. He breaks out into a full, unrestrained smile. Her neck flushes a tad.
His eyes playfully glance around before he whispers into her ear (his breath is so hot, her neck's temperature rises even more), "I might be dead by the end of the night. No one here likes me."
She grins back, about to say something.
He interrupts before she can speak. "You and Aang don't count." He gestures vaguely around the room with his hand. "All of them. All the nobles don't like the new balance of power. It's not in their favor."
"And you really think they'd assassinate you tonight, here, in front of hundreds of people? Especially in the presence of a Master bender such as myself?" She's serious and joking at the same time. Her false egotism makes his grin widen. She marvels quietly at his expression. His lips are flat, but his teeth are full and white, all that a good smile should be. A smile like Aang's, except so much more valuable because it's so rarely seen.
His flirtatious affect fades as he becomes aware of where he is and who he is holding—they are so close, so stationary, in so public a place. It is some wonder that Mai has not come marching over and pinned Zuko to the wall with her shruiken.
"I think," he begins, "we might discuss this better while dancing."
Katara tilts her head, considers her situation—she's still cuddled up against the Fire Lord's body, for Spirits' sake!—and her eyes bulge.
"Yes, let's."
They dance, and Katara is relieved as the band strikes up a slower song. She unconsciously shifts closer to him—Zuko's concern is very private, and she doesn't want any eavesdroppers listening to their conversation. She feels protective of him, of the man who is nearly a foot taller than her, who is the leader of an entire nation, who is a skilled bender in his own right. She still holds onto this primal urge to defend him, because he is so essential, because he is so precious to her. The word echoes in her mind, and though it is unexpected it is not unwelcome.
"So who wants you dead?" she jokes, but her look is solemn.
His mouth twitches. He almost laughs, but he holds it back. "Everyone. Well. Mostly Fire Nation."
She frowns. "Well, I won't let them kill you."
His teeth show again in one of those rare radiant smiles. She thinks she is very fortunate to see so very many of his smiles in so short a time.
"That wouldn't happen anyway."
"Then consider me an extra precaution."
Her eyes dart suspiciously around the room. Her breath hitches as she catches the harsh glare of a certain woman—in fact, the very same woman who is supposed to be dating the man Katara is holding very closely at the moment.
Taken aback, Katara lowers her eyes quickly. She melts into Zuko's arms, this time wanting to be protected rather than protective. Her change in demeanor disorients Zuko.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"I think someone wants me dead, too."
His jaw hardens. "Who?"
But Katara doesn't answer him. She just stays secured in the Fire Lord's arms, knowing that she's digging her grave deeper. She remains snuggled against him anyway. It's comfortable, and she doesn't want it to end.
"Let's dance that way," Katara mutters. Her feet lead Zuko to the far side of the room. Her head stays bowed against Zuko's chest. They don't speak. Zuko's question lingers unanswered and forgotten in the air.
They stay like that for some time, even as the next songs play on. When the band strikes up a faster tune, Katara looks up with a muffled yawn. She spots Toph not too far away. The young Earthbender is looking right at her. Katara thinks that maybe Toph is seeing right through her, and rolls her shoulders in discomfort.
Zuko rubs her arm. She smiles and suppresses another yawn, previously having failed to realize how tired she is.
"I think you're done for the night," Zuko says, and he takes her by the shoulders, steering her towards the ballroom door.
Katara doesn't miss Toph's knowing look. Toph's blind eyes bore holes in Katara's own. Then, just barely out of her peripheral, Katara observes Toph's quick nod of approval.
And then Zuko and she are out in the hallway. The door closes heavily behind them, and the music fades away. All that's there is the quiet flicker of the dim lanterns that dot the hall's length, the faint music, her deep breaths, his quiet heartbeat—she hears it because he's so close, and she feels it resound through her belly. She fights the urge to dance to the drumbeat of Zuko's heart—it gets faster and faster. She feels her own pulse accelerate to match his.
Their breaths are labored and short as they stand there, his arm over her shoulders, she standing with her back to him. She can't see his face. She doesn't want to see his face.
She made a promise to an Avatar—and he is a good and loyal person. Not now. Maybe in a few lifetimes.
The moment passes. He lets go of her. She subconsciously laments the loss of warmth.
"Goodnight, Katara. Get some sleep."
Then the door opens, the bright music blares, and he leaves. The door slams shut once again. It resounds in the pit of her stomach like his pulsating heartbeat had.
With a sigh, she guides herself back to her quarters.
Let that door remain shut, she thinks. It has to stay closed.
She falls unceremoniously onto her puffy bed.
Katara laughs at herself as she further perfects her ability to tearbend. She doesn't mind the wet splotches on her pillow so much as the knot in her stomach.
###
It's sunrise—the sky is brilliant and beautiful and so fitting for a parting. Katara wants to soak it all in. This moment is lovely.
Except that it's not, because it's a moment of farewell. She is going home. She is leaving everyone again. She misses home. She thinks she misses home. But what exactly is 'home?'
Home is a bison's back, she tells herself. That's where her family is.
Except she can't do that. She's still not ready to commit herself to Aang. He's only twelve (almost thirteen), and she's fifteen. She's not ready for marriage, for commitment. But she doesn't know where her home is either.
Home is Dad and Sokka and Suki.
That home will be home enough for a time.
With tears brimming in her eyes, she takes Aang in her arms and clutches him to her desperately. She wants to melt into him, but she can't because her heart and her head are so crazy right now.
They don't really say anything. They just hold each other. They don't kiss—Katara doesn't want it and Aang doesn't want to push her away. He's grown up a little in that regard. Whatever they have, whatever this is, whether it is intimacy or friendship or brotherhood, it doesn't matter. It is love, and it is a farewell, and it is painful.
At long last Katara releases him. "Go," she says softly. "I'll see you again."
His intense eyes stare into hers. "Yes. Always."
And then it's Toph's turn. She doesn't accept a hug. She just kind of looks at Katara as Aang air-scooters away to bid his goodbyes to others.
The two girls—sisters, really—stand there.
"Tell Sokka I said hi," Toph orders. Her voice has its typical rough pitch, but there's a degree of misery behind it.
"I will." All Katara wants to do is hug her, but that's not very Toph.
Toph smiles. They stand there for another few seconds. A captain calls out to Katara—it's time for the ship to leave.
As she turns around, Toph's hand catches Katara's.
"I'll tell him goodbye for you." Though she is blind, the look is so knowing, so intimate, so exact that Katara cannot bear to tear her eyes away.
Her lips part slightly, and she exhales. "Thank you. And tell him… Tell him—"
Her words catch in her throat. The captain calls again.
"Tell him to write," Katara finishes.
"Well, that was lame," comments Toph. She waves goodbye.
As she boards the ship, Katara turns again to the bloody sky and prays for a speedy journey home.