Zuko knew he would be hit by a Water Tribe boomerang just split seconds before it happened. He well remembered the sharp, hissing sound of the weapon shortly before it made contact. Too shortly, unfortunately, for the target to move out of the way.
Fortunately for him, though, the stupid disguise he wore around his head, itchy thick bandages that aggravated the taut, oversensitive skin of his scar, dampened the impact. Instead of being knocked out cold by the water peasant's boomerang, he was merely stunned for a few seconds, enough to stumble and fall.
When he heard the peasant growling furiously at his sister, Zuko thought it best not to come between two fighting siblings, and played unconscious for a while longer.
"Sokka," Katara said, surprise evident in her breathless gasp.
"You shouldn't be surprised," he said, taking no trouble to conceal his anger. "Did you really think I'd neglect watch duty around a hideout in the midst of enemy territory?"
"Sokka, please listen—"
"No, you listen," the boy yelled, his voice cracking. "You have no idea what I've been through ever since Aang told me you left for the Fire-Nation capital of all places, to seek out the traitor who is responsible for almost killing him!"
"Sokka, you have to understand—"
"No!"
A dangerous note of desperation laced the boy's tone and Zuko thought it best to announce his consciousness. He groaned theatrically and got up.
"Are you all right?" Katara asked with a tiny frown.
He rubbed the back of his head.
"Thanks for worrying about that now," he grumbled, suddenly miffed that she hadn't been concerned for him immediately after he'd been knocked down.
The tip of a wickedly sharp bone knife was suddenly pressed against his breastbone, undoubtedly meaning business.
Zuko slowly lifted his hands and grinned at the blue-eyed boy. "I'm not going to fight you."
The blue eyes narrowed. "Good for me then," the boy growled and without taking his eyes from him, ordered. "Katara, you're going back with me."
"No."
Her voice was so firm, that both Zuko and Sokka turned to her with surprise.
She stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest, featured settled grimly. If it wasn't for the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, one might have bought the façade of serious intent.
"I am not debating this," Sokka said. "I will not let you slip away again. I've promised father to watch out for you and I intend to keep my promise."
Zuko could feel a dull pain tugging at his heart, probably a mirror of Katara's feelings.
"I can't come with you Sokka," she said quietly, tears now starting to spill over. "I've given a promise, too."
An icy fist of dread tightened around his gut as Zuko realized that Katara wouldn't last much longer under the onslaught of conflicting emotions. She needed to make a decision and he was not at all sure it would be favourable for him.
He tried to sound sensible and moderately respectful as he once again turned to her brother.
"I swear I'll take care of her, and I'll protect her to the best of my abilities."
Well, that could have sounded a bit more eloquent. Maybe he should've said he'd protect her with his life. It was, after all, the truth.
Sokka snorted. "Your oaths are worthless to me, traitor," he spat. "And, having seen you fight, I've no faith whatsoever in your abilities."
Zuko swallowed the insult, still trying his trying his utmost not to get into an uneven match with him.
"My sister is my responsibility, and it's my decision where and with whom she travels," Sokka said haughtily.
Then he turned to his sister and his features softened.
"We need you, Katara," he said, and Zuko almost screamed with anguish as he saw tears now running freely down her face. "Aang needs you. The world—"
Zuko balled his fist. If the idiot would say 'The world needs you', he'd punch him straight in the face, be that sensible or not.
But it was Katara who interrupted her brother.
"Oh Sokka," she sobbed, throwing her arms around him.
Zuko's shoulders slumped in defeat.
After a few moments of hugging, during which Sokka sent him a self-satisfied smirk, Katara stepped back, eyes blind with tears.
"I am sorry," she whispered.
At the same moment, a huge wave roared up from the water's edge, hitting the unsuspecting boy, and shoved him against the nearest tree. With a few sharp cracks that Zuko remembered all too well, the water solidified into sparkling blue ice.
Without looking back at her brother's stunned face, Katara blindly stumbled to the boat, all but lunging into it.
"Hurry, Zuko," she screamed at him, her voice ragged and desperate.
Shaking himself out of his surprise, he turned and ran to the boat. He barely had his two feet inside, when she already started bending, moving the boat away from the shore as fast as she could.
"Get him off that tree," she whispered over the rush of the water beneath them. "But…"
She didn't need to say the rest. Don't hurt him, of course.
He sent a few short bursts of orange fire across the swiftly growing distance. They were almost out of sight when he finally saw Sokka breaking free of his icy confines, helplessly throwing his boomerang after them.
After flying a wide curve, the weapon faithfully returned to its master.
………
Zuko couldn't quite remember when he had last been so afraid for his life.
Katara steered completely blind, her shoulders still shaking with bone-deep sobs long after they had cleared the coast of the Fire-Nation. As if it wasn't bad enough to have to endure her anguish, he also had to prevent her from driving them into certain death with her tear-blinded eyes and her uneven bending.
Now, hours after they had left Sokka behind, his arms felt like solid lead and he could barely keep his eyes open.
"There is an island not too far ahead," he yelled at her over the roaring of the wind that had steadily increased over the last half hour. "We should stop there for the night. I think there's a storm coming."
She didn't answer, not that this was surprising. She hadn't spoken to him ever since they'd left.
When the island was near enough to see the outline of an abruptly rising black mountain, made purely of dark volcanic stone with no greenery to adorn its flanks, Zuko had enough.
Leaving the waterbending stance, he grabbed Katara's wrists from behind. The wave that had carried them fell away from beneath them, and the boat dove a few feet down, hitting the water's surface with a jolting splash.
"Katara, we have to stop. You can barely lift your hands anymore, and neither can I."
She remained silent.
"I promised your brother to look out for you."
In retrospect, that might not have been the smartest thing to say. She ripped her wrists out of his grasp, but didn't start bending again.
"What if they find us?" she asked.
"I doubt that with Iroh explaining things to them, they would go after us."
"Maybe they wouldn't. But Sokka…"
"All right," Zuko said with a weary sigh. "Let's say he did come after us on that flying bison—"
"Appa," she interrupted.
He sighed again.
"Even if he did take Appa, if we stay in a cave and hide the boat it'll be impossible to find us, especially at night."
"We couldn't even make a fire," she said.
He shrugged. "I can keep you warm."
At that she spun around to him, for the first time since their departure.
His whole body froze with terror at how she looked. Her eyes were bloodshot, with dark shadows under them. Salt clung in dirty whitish clumps to her eyebrows and lashes. Her cheeks were hollow, her face sickly pale, her lips almost white, with a few bleeding cracks. Her red-rimmed eyes widened a fraction as she saw him and they stared at each other for a long time. Only when the skies opened above them, spewing slashing cold rain, did they snap out of their exhausted stupor.
"I can't bring us to shore and hold off the rain at the same time," she said.
"Just the shore will have to do then."
They were completely drenched by the time they reached the shore of the island, an inhospitable bit of rocky edges, black and razor sharp. Nowhere to set one's foot without the danger of breaking bones or slashing skin.
With a last effort that almost broke both of them, Katara summoned a mighty wave that carried the boat directly to a relatively level platform a few yards above the ground, that appeared to have something like a cave behind it.
Wet, cold and miserable, they lugged their gear inside the cave only to discover that it wasn't deep enough to shelter them from the violent downpour, whipping almost horizontally directly into the mouth of the cave.
Zuko was glad the rain hid his tears of exhaustion as he heaved the boat to the cave's opening, blocking the wind and the rain.
Then he fell to the ground next to where she lay. If he never had to move again in his life, that would be fine with him.
As his eyes slipped shut, he heard the familiar gurgling and swishing of bended water, and felt his clothes drying around his body. The continuing sounds told him she was probably also drying all their gear.
"Thank you," he murmured, already half asleep.
He might have to sleep on uneven, rocky ground, but at least he wouldn't be wet.
As the watery sounds stopped and were replaced by the chattering of teeth, he blindly groped for the girl lying next to him and pulled her half on top of him. Since he wasn't much help otherwise, he could at least be a warm mattress.
"I hate you," she mumbled into his chest, her limbs growing heavy on top of him.
"I know."
………
When he woke, the slight weight on his chest was gone. The wind still howled outside and rain continued to splatter against the boat, that had miraculously stayed in place for the time being.
Night must have come and gone, judging by the dreary grey light that fell through the cracks around the boat.
As he tried to heave himself upright, he fell back onto the hard stone beneath him with a pained groan. Every muscle in his body screamed with agony at the effort.
If Katara was only half as bad as he was, they had no chance of getting off this rock any time soon.
Speaking of whom… He rolled to his side and found her sitting on the ground not far from him, her legs drawn to her, arms wrapped around her knees and slightly rocking her upper body back and forth like an inmate of a mental asylum.
"Katara," he croaked.
She turned her head to him, and he was glad to see her looking lucid. But he also saw the pain of complete exhaustion.
"I'm cold… so cold," she whispered.
He had no idea how she could be cold. His own body felt like it was roasting over a slow flame, not quite burning, but ever so slowly drying up. He was thirsty, so very… very thirsty.
Ignoring his body's protest, he crawled to the packs with their provisions and searched for their water supply.
He drank and drank, the precious liquid running down his throat into his parched body. But the thirst prevailed. He rummaged around for another canteen, but in his desperation could not find it.
"What's with you?" her broken voice sounded behind him.
"I'm thirsty," he answered, hands frantically digging through their belongings.
"You just drank a whole bottle."
"It's so freaking dry in here."
In his seventeen years, he had suffered through enough pain and even exhaustion to be not completely insane over what was happening to him now. So a tiny rational part of his mind told him that drinking water would probably not solve his problem. Still he couldn't quite stop himself. As the elusive bottle still refused to appear, he scooped a handful of water from a nearby puddle, the stale, brackish water almost making him gag.
"Zuko!"
He turned at her forceful calling of her name, for the first time seeing more of her but the hunched form and pained look. She looked even more terrible than she had the night before.
He knew they had overexerted themselves the day before, on account of her stubborn insistence that they put as much water between them and the Avatar as possible. She somehow feared they would come for her and drag her back. And for some reason, she was dead set on fulfilling the promise she had given him. After witnessing her tears the day before, even he wasn't so sure anymore that he still even wanted her to. Not when it cost her so much. Or both of them, as it were.
"I'm cold," she said again.
He crawled over and settled down behind her, cradling her between his thighs, his arms wrapped around her body. Bouts of violent tremors ran through her, making her teeth chatter. Even his dangerously raised body temperature didn't seem to help matters.
As a last resort, he turned his hand palm up in front of her, offering a ball of soft orange fire for whatever warmth she could draw from it. He almost fainted from the exertion.
She held her hands dangerously close to the fire, then flinched back when she had apparently come too close.
"We need to meditate," she whispered.
He hesitated for a moment.
Then again, they were alone on a lifeless rock, in the midst of a storm-whipped ocean. What was the worst that could happen? If she thought their connection would help, it was worth a try.
Hadn't Iroh said that they somehow drew from a greater source of energy? They sure could use some of that now.
He tightened his left arm around her and pressed his right cheek against her left before he gave his consent by nodding minutely. He watched fascinated, as a thin band of water wound itself around the globe of fire, broadening and fanning out, forming irregular flecks and puddles. But as irregular they were, they seemed familiar.
"The world," he murmured. "Oceans… water."
His eyes slowly slipped shut as he basked in the refreshing coolness that started to seep into him from everywhere, from every place where skin touched skin. Their faces, their hands, their exposed arms.
At first, the liquid seemed to evaporate inside him like a few drops of rain falling on sun-baked stone. But slowly and surely he felt he was soaking in live-giving liquid, his muscles expanding with new vigour. With every new wave of energy surging through him, exhaustion was cleansed away like caked dirt from polished marble. It clung at first, but in the end stood no chance.
He was soaking, warm water all around him, his insides no longer parched. Although he could still feel Katara's body securely wrapped in his arms and settled between his legs, he began to become aware of other equally lively and real sensations.
Water, always water, warm and relaxing around him, loosening his cramped, hurting muscles. The scent of burning candles and exotic flowers, with just the slightest touch of incense. A fire, burning not too far in the distance.
A bath, he concluded, he was taking a bath. He could actually feel the smooth porcelain of the bathtub in his back, could hear the sound of water sloshing softly around the huge tub he had in his apartments back at the Palace.
And he was not alone in that tub. Soft, wet skin glided against his body as a lithe form moved beside him, nimble hands caressing his chest.
He was suddenly afraid this might be a memory. Had he ever taken a bath with Mai? Well, probably. When he opened his eyes now, would he open them to find Katara nestled in his embrace, or Mai seductively smiling up at him?
He was too afraid to find out. Settling a little deeper into the heavenly warm water, he resolved to be a coward and enjoy the relaxing part of the dream.
"You're not falling asleep in this tub, are you, Firelord Zuko?"
His eyes snapped open at the question, asked in a sultry voice, dark and sensual. Katara's voice. His eyes opened to his dream.
Like a vision from a particularly erotic fantasy, Katara leaned half over him, sweetly smiling, her hair fanned out in the water around her like a mermaid's. Sinfully naked and overwhelmingly beautiful.
He studied her face, as intently as he could in the dimly lit room. Only a few candles sent an insufficient glow from a shelf a few feet away, and the only other source of light was the fire in the fireplace, casting flickers of orange over her face.
She looked different, he thought. Older. Not much, only a few years perhaps.
And then something else filtered through his brain. She'd called him Firelord. In just that same slightly mocking tone in which she always called him Prince.
A strand of wet hair clung to his face, and as he smoothed it back he noticed its length. A quick glance at his shoulders showed long hair floating around him like a cloud of black ink. So he was older, too.
"I'm tired," he said.
Her smile grew wider, knowing and saucy.
"And why would that be, my lord?"
As much as he knew that this woman was Katara, she was nothing like the chaste girl he knew that he still held in his arms at this very moment. And, just for a while, he wanted to forget about her and look at this woman instead, this experienced, sensual creature who slid her supple body over his in such a delicious fashion.
He lifted his hands and ran them from her shoulders over her naked back, down to her lower back and further down still until his hands gripped a well-rounded bottom.
He groaned as arousal shot through him, hot and demanding. Gripping her behind a little tighter, he drew her against his groin, blatantly pressing the evidence of his arousal into her stomach.
She arched a delicate eyebrow.
"Ready yet again, dear husband?" she purred, a tone that sent a delicious shudder quaking through him. "Astounding."
"I'm always ready for you, beloved wife," he said hoarsely, loving how smoothly the strange endearment flowed off his tongue. This was his dream, after all; he was allowed to say and to do whatever he wanted.
Mischief glimmered silvery in the blue eyes looking at him as she rubbed herself against him, waist circling, water sloshing.
"Stop teasing," he whispered with a happy smile, as she gently kissed his face. "I could be called away to some royal business at any moment."
"As you wish," she mumbled against his skin, just before claiming his mouth in a fervent kiss, lifting her hips just slightly and then sinking down on him.
"Oh, Zuko."
It happened all so suddenly, he could do nothing but hold on to her hips and groan at the simultaneous onslaught of the most delicious of sensations.
Her round breast, fuller than he remembered, rubbed enticingly over his chest. Her mouth feasted on his, giving and taking, stoking the fire within him to near unbearable heights. To hold such a woman in his arms, a woman so sure of her sexuality, was a treat all by itself. And yet he knew, without any doubt, that what she knew she'd learned only with him. They were partners in a dance they had danced a thousand times, but he could not remember it because for him it had yet to happen, of that he was sure too.
The water spilled in rhythmic little waves over the rim of the tub as this woman, his wife, his Katara, moved over him, hot wetness surrounding him, massaging him with succulent, divine pressure against which his overexcited body had no chance to hold out long.
He gathered the girl in his arms closer as his dream-woman picked up the pace, as the thundering of blood in his ears drowned the gurgling of the water, as he inexorably neared the point of no return.
"Zuko, are you all right?"
He opened his eyes – again – only to look into two eyes full of worry. The real world came crashing down around him as he saw the little cloud of steam billowing between them and swiftly dispersing.
There would be no going back to the dream now.
But his body still remembered and he was so close, so bloody close, he wanted to weep with frustration.
He nodded tersely, but Katara didn't look convinced.
"Your heart is galloping like a frightened rhino, you're breathing like you're about to suffocate and your pupils are dilated as if you're in shock."
At any other moment, he might have laughed. Right now, he still felt like crying.
"Just give me a moment," he mumbled.
Katara stood and walked to their provision packs, rummaging through them. Although still dazed from his dream, or vision, or whatever it had been, he noticed that she could stand and walk with no difficulty, which had to be an improvement.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, without turning to him.
Yes, for you, he wanted to say, then chided himself for his silliness. It had been a dream, for crying out loud. Surely, the best bloody dream he'd ever had, which really should've been a clue all by itself. Him the Firelord, Katara his wife. Just how unrealistic could it get?
His stomach grumbled loudly, answering the question she had asked.
She came back with some bread, hippo-cow cheese and some dried fruit.
"There's not much left, I hope we can replenish our provisions soon."
He cleared his throat.
"Once we get off this rock, it should take only another two or three days to reach the coast of the southern Earth-Kingdom."
She looked up at him sharply. "Two or three days?"
"There'll be no repeating what we did yesterday," he said grimly. "We almost killed ourselves."
He gave himself extra points for not telling her that it was her who had almost killed them.
"I'm feeling fine again," she said with a shrug.
Not hiding his scrutiny, he looked her slowly up and down. Grudgingly he had to admit that she indeed looked as fresh as dew. No trace left of the deadly exhaustion, nothing to recall the clear physical signs he had seen only a few hours ago.
Through the vapour of his slowly dissipating frustration, he could tell that he, too, felt rather splendid. This connection truly was a miracle cure.
"I had the strangest vision during our connection," she said quietly.
He stopped mid-chewing and fixed his eyes on her. She suddenly seemed very interested in her own hands which she held in her lap.
"Were you... in a bathtub?" he asked before he could stop himself.
She looked up at him, visibly puzzled.
"No. Were you?"
Try as he might, he could not keep the hot rush of blood from colouring his cheeks.
"Sort of."
"With me?"
His mouth almost fell open, food and everything.
She blushed and looked down at her lap again. "I'm just asking because you were in my dream, too."
"Hmmyeah," he managed, once he had gathered his wits somewhat.
Katara nodded thoughtfully.
"What did we do?" she asked after a moment.
Zuko decided that 'screwing each other's brains out' would probably hurt her maidenly sensibilities.
"Getting wet."
Oblivious to his tone, Katara nodded again.
"In my dream, we were at the Palace, in the Fire-Nation, you know?"
He nodded.
"I stood in an entranceway of sorts, leading to a huge balcony overlooking a gigantic square filled with thousands of people, some of them carrying huge red banners. I've never been to that balcony, I don't even know if such a place exists…"
"It does," he confirmed, now curious about what she had seen. "It's the balcony from which the royal family show themselves to their subjects."
She nodded again, but didn't speak.
"What happened?" he prodded at last.
"You stood there, looking back at me, and then two old women started yelling at the top of their lungs. It was a bit creepy, but I had somehow expected it and felt more excited than frightened."
"What did they say?"
Katara closed her eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and began.
"Revered healer of the Water Tribe, daughter of Chief Hakoda and Nani; sister of the warrior Sokka, teacher of Avatar Aang, hero of the war, wife of…"
Blushing an even deeper shade of red, she bit her lip and stopped talking.
"Wife of Firelord Zuko," he said softly, continuing for her. "All hail Katara, First Lady of the Fire-Nation."
She looked at him out of wide, shiny blue eyes. "How do you know?"
How did he know, indeed?
If everything went as he had seen in his own dream, it would be how the callers would announce her to his subjects.
It was impossible, though. No Firelord had ever married outside the circle of well respected noble Fire-Nation families. Not to mention that between him and the throne stood seemingly insurmountable obstacles.
Fire-Nation soldiers, his sister, his father. He never even dared to dream of what would happen after the day of the black sun. He had no hope of even surviving that day one way or the other.
But then there was this vision, so enticingly real. A mutual vision of a happy, shared future. Would it be so wrong to believe that everything would turn out all right?
Just contemplating that question gave him some sense of deep comfort, a feeling of working toward a tangible goal, right and justified. It gave him a bit of the peace of mind he had hoped to get from the meeting with his mother.
Was it a delusion, just like the one he had clung to for three years as he chased after the Avatar, hoping to win back his father's love and his own honour?
Maybe. But it also gave him something he hadn't felt for far too long. It gave him hope.
He smiled a little and tentatively covered her hands with his. "My vision might have involved a bathtub, but I've seen something rather similar."
tbc
Please let me know what you think.
