Despite popular belief, I have no plans to give up on any of my works. However, real life has a way of deterring even the best of intentions. I am now half blind due to surgery orchestrated to save my left eye. The eye is still somewhat whole, but my vision in it was the cost. I'm sure you can all imagine the strain missing a month of school put on somewhat about to graduate. I, however received a review today asking me if I had quit. And that, dear readers is something I refuse to do. I love writing and will continue it, in some form or other until my mental capabilities desert me. Now, I give you a truly sudden and inspired chapter of Cellular. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: One day I will own Avatar. But it is not this day.
Cellular
Zuko and Katara
Rated T
There was nothing for it.
As strained and uncomfortable as it was to smash Katara against his chest on the tiny bed, he'd never let his sire even glimpse her face.
Katara was looking up at him in utter shock, eyes wide with questions.
Without acknowledging her, he looked straight on at the man in the doorway.
"I'll ask you again. What the fuck do you want?"
Ozai smirked, uncrossing his arms and standing straight and tall against the only way out of the room.
"Language, son. I doubt your mother would want you to speak so crudely."
Zuko snarled, about to force his way out of the bed, needing to wipe that smirk on the floor, to make sure he couldn't ever speak of Ursa again.
But Katara grabbed his arms, twisting herself against his chest to keep him still.
Unfortunately, it also turned her to face the man in the door.
Zuko watched in horror as his father's eyes travelled along the lean form of the girl lying on her side, flicking between her eyes and where her hands held Zuko's.
"And to what God does my son own the favor of such fine company to?"
Katara was glaring. Zuko knew it. He didn't have to be looking at her to know. It was there in her tense arms, and his father's ever increasing amusement.
"Perhaps that is a conversation better set aside," Ozai said coldly, politely.
Katara positively growled.
Zuko wanted to kiss her.
Definitely not the time though.
"Now," Ozai began briskly, still trapping them in the suddenly tighter, hotter room. "I am going to find the attending physician and have him sign you out. You'll be better suited at home in private care."
"I'd be better served. Or you?" Zuko replied.
Ozai smirked, but said nothing.
"Last I checked, dear brother. You hold no authority to do that."
Ozai's eyes narrowed.
"You forget Iroh, that only one of us still has a son. "
Katara gasped and clutched Zuko's arm tightly.
Zuko didn't dare blink. He watched Iroh flinch, withdrawing and casting aside his eyes. They caught Zuko's and held them for a moment.
Iroh then straightened himself and took a step towards his younger brother.
"I am more his father than you ever were."
Ozai laughed. Low and cold, and everything as Zuko remembered from failing as a child. He clenched Katara tightly to him, wary by instinct and vigilant by practice.
"Sentimental old fool. Unfortunately DNA does not agree with you."
"The paperwork, however, is another matter."
Both men turned to the new player in the conversation.
Dr. Bumi turned somberly to Ozai, more serious than Zuko could ever recall.
"I am sorry, Mr. Agni, but I cannot release Zuko into anyone's care other than his legal guardian."
"He is eighteen." Ozai snarled. "And those papers hold no sway over my blood claim."
Zuko narrowed his eyes at those words.
Blood Claim.
What the hell was his sire playing at?
"Be that as it may," Bumi continued, unfazed and still achingly cordial. "In the patient's living will, he has agreed to be released only into the care of one Iroh Agni."
Ozai took a threatening step towards Bumi, but stopped short. He looked over his shoulder to the bed where Zuko lay, coiled as a spring.
His father turned fully toward him.
"I foresee some debate over this. Unless my son is willingly going to concede himself to my care?"
Zuko snarled again, immensely ready to grit out a "Fuck No!"
But a quiet, strong voice beat him to it.
"He is never going back there."
All the men looked at Katara in shock. She lay coiled securely in Zuko's arms.
Her gaze was unwavering on his father. He knew it like he knew her warmth in against him.
Ozai's eyes widened.
"One day little girl," He drawled. "You will learn respect."
Zuko roared and sprang out of bed as Iroh gasped and Ozai backed away a step.
"You stay the fuck away from her you bastard!"
Ozai smirked widely, delighting in his infirm son's labored breathing, enraged features, and staggering steps.
He glanced at Iroh smugly, who stared back, horrified.
"You'll be hearing from my lawyer, brother."
He then made his way to the door, pausing in the frame.
His final words were directed at Katara.
"Suffering is always the best teacher.
And he slammed the door behind him as Zuko lunged toward his father.
Zuko stood, glaring at the floor, breathing heavily and swearing harshly.
Iroh took a step toward him.
"Zuko are you alright?"
His words seemed to shock Zuko back into action. The scarred boy whipped around to face the bewildered girl on his bed.
His eyes took her in.
She was trembling slightly, was paler than he'd ever seen her, and was staring straight back at him like she'd never seen him.
Zuko would kill his sire.
No one deserved that man. Least of all this girl so untainted by the horror he had been born into. He refused to let Ozai get to her.
In three steps Zuko was across the room and she was in his arms again.
He held her much tighter than his failing strength should have allowed. Eyes shut, he buried his face in her hair, scar brushing her smooth temple.
I will never let him touch you.
The window sill was hard, cold, and unyielding against his aching back.
But it was so much better than that fucking bed.
Zuko sat by the windows, watching his uncle hold his head in his hands. Their attorney sat at the small desk in the room, shaking his head as he went through the files.
Professor Zei was a supposedly brilliant man, a praised researcher in the legal field. However, his nerdy manner and twitchy eyes were hardly making Zuko feel secure.
"Mr. Agni is claiming that Zuko has spent more time in the hospital or in trouble at school since entering your care. He's also claiming that you are unable to support him fully on your limited means. Unfortunately, as Zuko's closest living relative of age, he has the right to argue a living will."
Iroh remained slumped over.
"What can we do, Zei?" He asked quietly.
Zei nodded. "The best case would be to present accusations against Zuko's emotional stability in his former household. We cannot outright accuse him of abuse without…consequences." Here Zuko raised his eyebrows. It seemed the good professor knew more than he'd previously thought.
"But the charge means that Zuko's words will hold a very heavy weight," Zei continued.
The door burst open suddenly, making Zei jump out of the chair and fall to the floor.
"I want to help!"
Katara's hair was wild. It looked like she'd charged through the hallways. Her cheeks were flushed, she was breathing heavy and Zuko could hear her brother shouting for her from down the hall.
Zuko hadn't wanted to let her go earlier. But his uncle had pressed the need for immediate legal counsel.
And Zuko had wanted to give her the chance to show her fear and disgust at his messed up family without having to feel guilty for being in front of him.
She looked anything but disgusted.
Her cobalt eyes were gleaming ferociously and she looked ready to pounce.
In short Zuko's breath caught and his cheeks reddened slightly.
It was getting harder to not kiss her when she was acting so damn endearing.
Her words then hit him square in the chest and he looked at her with wide eyes.
"Absolutely not," Iroh said.
Zuko made a note to thank him later for saying what he couldn't get out.
Katara positively glared at him.
"Why not?" She demanded, eyes snapping onto Zuko's unusually stern uncle.
Iroh's face softened slightly at the image she presented and his words were quiet when he continued.
"Miss Katara. There are things at work here no child should be involved in."
She huffed and straightened her back.
"I am hardly a child. And this entire mess revolves around Zuko."
Despite being slightly put off as subtly being called a child, Zuko couldn't help but admire her determination.
Iroh looked ancient and exhausted. "You know exactly what I mean, Katara."
Her chin only came up all the higher and her shoulders squared.
"I am not afraid of him."
"I am."
Zuko had finally found his voice.
"Uncle, Professor. If you'd leave for a minute."
Iroh nodded and led Zei from the room, casting a lingering, anxious glance over his shoulder at his nephew.
Katara looked at him in shock.
"No you're not." She said quietly.
He smirked.
"Maybe not for the right reasons, "He said pushing himself off the window sill and making his way towards her.
Katara immediately came to have him lean on her but he stopped her an arm's length away by placing his hands on her shoulders.
"I am afraid." Zuko said quietly. "Of what he will do to you."
Katara stared back at him stonily.
"I don't care."
Her face broke no argument.
"Damn it Katara!" He shouted, digging his fingers into her arms and shaking her slightly.
She glared at him.
He only brought her closer to him.
"Look at me." His tone was no less menacing, but he was no longer shouting.
"I am." She said.
"Look at me!" He'd really have to work on consistently not shouting.
"I am!" Katara yelled back.
"You're not blind! Look at what he did to my face!"
Her eyes immediately softened.
"Zuko," she whispered, reaching for his scarred cheek.
He grabbed her outstretched hand and forced it harshly against the rough skin.
"I am not going to let this happen to you."
Katara's eyes widened. Then narrowed. "I don't need someone to take of me that won't even take care of himself."
Zuko exploded.
"What will it take to make you understand!" He shouted, dropping his arms.
"I. AM. NOT. WORTH. IT!"
Katara screamed right back.
"YOU'RE WRONG!"
He glared at her with all the venom he could muster.
"I do not want the pity of a crusading, over emotional little girl."
Katara slapped him hard.
"I don't care what you're trying to pull, Zuko. Don't you fucking lie about me pitying you."
He was stunned. Red blossomed across his only unblemished cheek, giving him a sinister symmetry.
Katara however, was on an agenda and had no time for his confusion.
"You are the most arrogant, stubborn, ungrateful prick I know. I hate how you tease me! I hate how you resort to violence to deal with anything and everything! And I fucking despise how much I care about you anyway!"
Zuko had never heard her say the f word once, let alone the amount she'd employed it in the last five minutes. Her words however left him slightly numb. A tiny prick of hope swelled before he could crush it and that optimism shone through his eyes.
But he wouldn't say it.
Ever.
It was weak.
Katara however, obviously didn't feel the same way as she grabbed the front of his plain sweatshirt and jerked him down roughly to her meet her eyes.
"I hate you."
Not exactly the words he was expecting and he blinked.
His confusion never made its way into words as Katara pulled him into her and kissed him directly on the mouth.
Zuko's in shock brain faced no competition for his eager body. Without realizing it, he dragged her against him and held her tightly with one hand while the other held the side of her neck, angling her face to reach more of her sweet mouth.
Katara's knees buckled, he could feel her sink deeper into his chest and smirked. Feeling his lips quirk on her mouth, she ripped away.
"You're infuriating!"
He smiled, a real one, and tucked her hair behind her ear.
"Only for you."
AN: Reviews would be greatly appreciated. I need to know someone still cares about my work.
