9. IT'S NOT UNTIL WE REACH HER FRONT DOOR THAT I FINALLY GATHER THE COURAGE TO ASK THE QUESTION THAT'S BEEN BURNING IN MY MIND FOR TWO SOLID WEEKS. We're standing there, bathed in the moonlight, across from each other. We standing very close, our hands clasped, fingers entwined, and our hair is a little messy now, sure, but neither of us can stop smiling and neither of us makes a move to go and I get the feeling that she wants the evening to end as little as I do. It's late and I have no idea what time it is and I really don't care, and I look into her eyes and know that she doesn't, either. From inside the house, her brother's snores rattle the walls, but we don't hear them, and we certainly don't pay attention. We just look into each other's eyes, and smile, and go for a bit of a mental swim, and then, finally, the sake and the evening and the joy and the laughter complete the cycle of madness and I just have to ask. I have to know. Before I allow my hopes to rise any higher, I just have to know.
"Can I ask you a question?"
She smiles, which should be impossible, because she was already smiling as much as any human being should be capable of. "Anything, Zuko, anything."
I sigh, look down at our hands, clasped tight together, my thumbs nervously running along the bumps of her knuckles. "You know what I'm going to ask, don't you…"
She nods, the smile not leaving her face. "I do, but it has to be asked, so please, just ask." She takes a step closer. I can feel her breath on my face. My head goes for a swim. "I promise you, the answer isn't as terrifying as you think it is."
I inhale, I exhale, and then, finally, I ask. "Why me?" I let that sink in for a moment, then press on. "I mean…you have every reason to hate me. My nation has…my people have done their best to take everything from you. You have no reason to like me, and every reason to despise me. I mean…" I chuckle. "Just think about how much of an asshole I looked when I first stopped at this place, almost four years ago, and how much of a fool I acted. So, I just have to ask…why?" I look up, deep into her eyes. "How is it that you can like me?"
She takes a deep, long, wavering breath before she answers. When she does, it's the last thing I expected to hear, and the first thing I hoped for.
"When you first came here, I hated you. I hated the very sight of you. I thought of the man who took my mother away from me, the men who my father and all the men of the village and of the tribes went off to fight, of the men in horned helmets who came and hunted us like animals for so long, and I…I fucking hated you. And…well…" She giggles. "You didn't do much to fight that first impression. Sure, your uncle came to the shore, and your men did their best to be polite and all, but you stood on your ship, leaning against the railing, with that ridiculous haircut you had, and just glared and scowled and acted the perfect picture of the spoiled Fire Nation noble out to make the world bend to his will. And yet…"
She reaches up, touches the right side of my face, tracing my eyebrow, running her thumb around my eye and across my cheek. My skin turns red, blood rushing to my skin, and it's very hard not to press my cheek into her palm and close my eyes.
"And yet…when you had departed, I went to my Gran-Gran, and I vented my rage, and you know what she said?"
I shake my head. My voice is barely a whisper. "What did she say?"
She leans even closer. I can feel her breath on my skin.
"She said, You know what that boy needs? That boy needs a hug."
It's hard not to laugh. She sees it in my eyes.
"I know, right? I thought she was crazy. And she just shook her head and said, Some people show their pain on the outside, wear it on their sleeves. And some? Well…they bury it deep, and hide it behind a mask of anger and pride. That boy is in a lot of pain, and it has very little to do with that mark on his face."
She bites her lip. Her thumb continues its strange wanderings over my face. I do nothing to stop it.
"And then I started to think. Every time you'd come by the village, I'd follow my brother, and watch him talk to your uncle, and I'd watch you. Then you started coming down into the village with him, and then you started doing some of the talking, and then all of the talking. Your crew stopped wearing their helmets, and then they stopped wearing their armor, and then they stopped carrying weapons altogether. And through it all, I watched you. And somehow, I knew, you were different. You weren't the man who took my mother away from me, who shattered my family, who terrorized my village, you were none of them." She stops, takes a deep, ragged breath. "What were you?"
I look down, at the black abyss that follows me wherever I go.
"I was lost, and lonely, and scared. Shamed and humiliated. Unsure of where to go, or what to do." I look back up, meet her eyes. "Everything I knew had been stripped from me, and I was left with nothing. I was nothing."
She shakes her head and clucks her tongue. "Something tells me that you've never been nothing. I watched you, and yeah, I made eyes at you. All the girls in the village did, once we saw that you were different, especially when you stopped hiding behind that helmet and that braid and the walls of your ship. You chased the pirates from our seas, and brought us goods. You paid for everything you took, and paid in kind, and spoke our language, and learned our dialect, and all the other little things you did. And…well…" She bites her lip, and my head does a spin. "You started coming here more often, stopped even going to the other tribes, and you'd scan the crowds when you arrived, your eyes would skip over the other girls, girls prettier than me, girls easier than me, and you'd always find me, and your eyes would stop there." She giggles, reaches up her other hand, rests it lightly on my scar. I don't push it away.
"So, yeah, how was I to not develop a crush on you?"
I chuckle, deep in my throat. "You know, I'm still going to grill you hard on grammar this week, no matter how nice you are to me tonight."
She giggles again, a light, tinkling sound, bells in the moonlight.
"See? How can I not like you, with lines like that?"
I laugh. "Lines like what? I have no lines."
She shakes her head, a smirk on her face.
"And now, every day, you confirm it. You treat me like an equal. You don't look down on me, despite the fact that you were probably raised to do so from birth." She tilts her head. "Which brings me to the fact that I have to ask you a question."
I shrug, my face still encircled in her hands. "It's only fair, I suppose."
She laughs, deep in her throat. "Well, you say that now, but I actually have two questions, so it's not a fair trade."
"Heh…it will be, because I'm a man of few words."
She laughs again. "That, I know. But still…why aren't you that man? Why are you so different?"
I tilt my head to left, pressing my scar into the hand that rests there.
"Because…something happened to me. Something…something terrible, because I proved myself to not be the man I was raised to be. For a few years, I did my best to try to be that man, and then…well…" I shrug. I'm struggling for words. I'm expressing things I've never expressed, thinking thoughts I've never thought, saying things I've never said, and all in a language that's not my own. And yet…nothing has ever felt so natural. "One day, I realized that maybe I never wanted to be that man." I see the clothes, the finery, the marks and badges of the office I was once born to, slipping beneath the waves, while my crew cheers me on. "I decided to be something else."
She nods, slow and sure, spreads her right hand, pressing her palm into my scar. "Which brings me to my other question. It's the same as the one you asked me: Why me?"
I raise my left hand, lay it on hers, press her fingers into my scar.
"Because you were never scared of me."
She doesn't say anything for a long time. I'm scared, terrified. I've never been this open with anyone, even before my exile, and certainly not after. A thousand-thousand horrid scenes play out in my head. I see her storming away, bursting into tears, swearing never to speak to me again.
Then, out of nowhere, a voice in my head, that sounds an awful lot like my own, says, Yeah, but we already know she's not most girls. I listen to the voice, let it seep into my bones, and sigh, deep in my mind. Somehow, I know what she's going to say, and what she's going to do.
She takes her hand away from my scar, pops up, presses her lips softly to the cheek below my dead, useless left eye. She lingers, and then she pulls away. She smiles, soft and bright and clear in the night.
"Good night, Zuko. I had a great time. I'd really like to do this again."
I smile, lean down, not really thinking, just doing, and press my lips to her forehead. I try not to notice the soft sigh that escapes her lips as I kiss her there and pull away.
"Me, too. Though maybe, next time, you can sing for me."
She blushes bright red and lets a soft giggle escape her lips.
"It's a date."
I nod. I really don't want to know how stupid my grin looks.
"I should certainly hope so."
We linger for a moment more, until she says, "See you Monday morning," then slips into the house. The door clicks softly behind her, and she's gone from my sight, though never again will she be gone from my mind. I walk back to the ship, though I don't know it. I might as well be flying, because I'm floating on a cloud, my head stuck firmly in the heavens above.
My uncle doesn't even bother to tease me, which is fine, because I wouldn't have noticed it anyways.
Once again, I'm having waaaay too much fun. I'd talk more, but it's time for bed. My only comment about this chapter is that it's basically quelling anyone (or at least, I hope it is) who might say that everyone is acting all OOC and shit, and that I'm making too many leaps and stretches. It's important to remember that this is basically taking place in the universe I made for A Different Path, only without Katara and Sokka finding Aang. So…yeah? I dunno. It's bed time!
In the next chapter, I'm pretty sure Zuko will chat with Iroh, and Iroh will be all…Iroh-y. Stay tuned!
