Disclaimer: I do NOT own any part of ATLA in any way, shape, or form. I own NOTHING!

Chapter 10

Zhao had two obsessions – the Avatar and the Blue Spirit.

The Blue Spirit, who also happened to be Zuko, was Zhao's latest obsession. He blamed him for all of his recent shortcomings with the Avatar and wanted revenge. He demanded his head for all his interferences.

Katara watched Zhao and all his ventures with icy indifference. She offered council and advice when prompted but did little else.

She felt cold and detached from all things. She assumed it was some form of self-preservation, an unhealthy coping mechanism that accompanied her mastery of bloodbending. It was probably the only way she'd be able to stomach it all.

"Do you have any thoughts on who the Blue Spirit might be?" Zhao held his tea in his hand, likely heating it with firebending, but didn't drink it.

Immediately, Katara suspected that this was some kind of trick question. She'd been suspicious the moment he invited her to join him for a cup of tea.

She didn't know what the right answer to that particular question would be. Maybe he wasn't even looking for an answer. Maybe he just wanted to see her reaction to see how much she knew.

Did he know that she knew that Zuko was the Blue Spirit? Was he baiting her? What if he knew that she snuck out to find Zuko the night the Blue Spirit took Aang from the fortress?

She decided to play it safe.

"I think it could be anyone." Katara took a few sips of tea even though this batch was particularly bitter. "Someone who wants credit for the Avatar's capture, someone wanting to get on the Fire Lord's good side. It could even be someone who simply doesn't want the Fire Nation to have him. Maybe the Blue Spirit is a bounty hunter."

Zhao simply nodded, his hand tightening around the porcelain cup.

He was making her nervous.

"I'm almost finished assembling my fleet for the invasion. We will be leaving port and continuing our journey north soon, so finish whatever business you have here as soon as possible."

Zhao had known for a while that the Avatar was heading north to obtain a waterbending master, but Zhao had been reluctant to go north immediately. Now she knew that he'd actually been acquiring more men and more firepower. He wanted a sizable invasion force before he went to the Northern Water Tribe.

The thought of being that close to other waterbenders, to her sister tribe was exciting, but like all other things in her life, it also brought confliction. It was bittersweet. She couldn't be happy about going there for remembering the why behind her visit. She would be going there with Zhao, with the Fire Nation, both of which meant them harm.

And I'll be hauled along for the ride.

He stood and made his way for the door. "General Iroh has also had a change of heart. He has decided to accept my offer and serve under me as general of the fleet."

"What?" She turned in her chair to face him. "He's leaving Zuko?"

A while back she'd noticed that some of the men floating into Zhao's ever-growing fleet were Zuko's men, but she'd been certain Iroh would stay with Zuko. She just knew he would never even consider Zhao's offer.

"It is probably best if he explains the situation to you himself." Zhao was saying this calmly and professionally, but there was malice shining in his eyes. "I don't think it's my place."

Zhao left, but her head was still spinning. Had something happened to Zuko? Had Zhao done something to him? Did he know he was the Blue Spirit?

Katara blazed out of the room.

She had to find Iroh.

The old war general was on the deck of the ship, sitting at a small table and enjoying a cup of tea with some of the other crewmembers.

"General Iroh?" she called over the howling wind around them. They weren't that close to the North Pole yet, but the weather was already shifting. There was a familiar tingle to the air that taunted her memories. The sensation was not unlike an itch at the back of her skull.

He looked over his shoulder at her, and when their eyes met, he smiled.

"Hello, Tara," he said coolly, his eyes wrinkling up at the edges.

Katara frowned. "Why are you here…? Where's Zuko?"

His expression went from airy to grave in a millisecond. His eyes wandered the space around them carefully before he spoke again.

"It is a long story, one I am not comfortable discussing here."

Her voice was on the verge of breaking and she wasn't entirely sure why.

"Where's Zuko?" she repeated. Her throat was tight.

Iroh held a finger over his lips and gave her a stern look.

"You look kind of pale, Tara. Perhaps you should go to your room and lie down." He winked. "I'd be happy to escort you back to your quarters."

Katara was confused, but she trusted General Iroh and took the hint. She allowed him to lead her down into the deepest, darkest parts of the ship.

"Admiral Zhao tried to have Zuko killed," Iroh began once he was sure they were completely alone. "He failed, and now Zuko is hiding somewhere on this ship, but I have managed to convince Zhao that he did not survive. Hopefully, Zuko will be able to lie low until we reach the North Pole."

Iroh didn't say it, but she already knew what the ultimate goal of this plan was. Zuko was still hoping to capture the Avatar before Zhao.

Katara exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving her body. "Is he okay?"

"He is alive, but he is hurt, more hurt than he lets on. I was hoping that if you run into him, you could heal some of his more severe wounds?"

"Right. Of course, I'll do whatever I can." Katara didn't know what that entailed, but she resolved to at least try.

In the end, Katara didn't find Zuko. He found her.

It was the faintest of touches, but when those fingers wrapped around the curve of her elbow, she immediately knew who it was.

The touch was gentle, warm, and almost tentative, like he was asking for forgiveness. They hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms. Things were…strained. Awkward.

Silently, Katara led to way back to her quarters, and Zuko followed without question.

Once inside, Zuko bolted the door behind them.

Katara sat on her bed and peered up at him, feeling uncomfortable. She honestly, didn't know how he'd react to seeing her again. She had no doubts that he was still upset with how she'd treated the Avatar. He was probably even questioning her loyalty. Honestly, she was questioning it, but she felt she was in too deep for it to matter.

"I talked to Iroh." She paused. "He told me what Zhao tried to do to you."

Nodding, he removed his helmet, and to say he was battered and bruised would be an understatement. His good eye was black, and the rest of his face was covered in tiny cuts and lacerations.

"What happened?" she asked despite her better judgment.

"He hired some pirates, and they planted dynamite on my ship," he replied tersely, vaguely.

Katara got the feeling this was not the full story, but she also knew that it was as much as he was going to give her, so she wouldn't pry. She did, however, feel the urge to bloodbend Zhao until something in him popped. Loudly.

"If you want, I can treat some of your wounds," she offered gently.

He shook his head. "It doesn't hurt much."

Katara begged to differ, but she knew that this meant he didn't want her treating him. His wounds didn't appear to be fatal, so she complied with his wishes. This obviously had something to do with his pride, maybe even his frustration with her, and if he wanted to heal the old fashioned way, she couldn't stop him. It was ultimately his choice, and she had to respect that.

"Are you hungry?" she asked instead as she tried to straighten nonexistent wrinkles in her robes. "I could probably get you some food so you won't have to sneak around or risk blowing your cover."

He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Sure."

Getting food for Zuko was surprisingly easy. Lucky for him, the cook liked her and would do just about anything she asked.

When she got back to her quarters, Zuko was on her bed, having apparently gotten comfortable since his shirt was gone, revealing even more of the damage that had been done to him physically.

It wasn't pretty, and she felt bad for not treating any of his wounds. She prayed to La that they looked worse than they felt.

"It's not much, but it was all I could get out of the cook without him asking questions or getting suspicious," she explained as she placed the food down next to him.

Zuko began eating instantly, but they still weren't really speaking to one another.

He finished his food and rolled onto his side, folding his arms and turning his back to her.

"Are you seriously sleeping in here?" Her eyes bulged.

He sat up, glaring at her. "Where else would I sleep?"

"I don't know!" Her face heated. "The prison hold or…something!"

"Don't you think it would be a little weird to find a guard sleeping in a prison hold?" he challenged, his tone haughty. "Most guards have rooms of their own, and Uncle's quarters are right next to Zhao's."

Katara frowned, folded her arms, and looked away. He made a good point, but she still wasn't a fan of this…at all.

"Besides, it isn't like we haven't slept together before," he added casually.

"That was years ago and it was…different then." Katara was blushing fiercely now.

"Don't be stupid," he grumbled before rolling over and once again turning his back to her.

"Ugh!" she huffed. "Fine!"

Angrily, she stripped down to her bindings (because she couldn't sleep if she got too hot, and she wasn't about to let Zuko completely ruin her night), pulled her hair out of her topknot, and lied down as far as she could away from the Fire Prince.

Yeah. This definitely wasn't anything like their sleepovers as kids.

Zuko slept differently than he used to. It was an uneasy, restless sleep. He tossed and turned a lot.

As she closed her eyes and tried to find sleep, she privately wished she didn't care about him anymore. Things would be so much easier if she didn't but she couldn't help herself. She couldn't erase their past or how she felt. When you go through things like they had together, it forms a certain bond that can never truly be broken. And because of that, she still had this unwavering (and probably foolish) faith in him.

At some point during her musings, Zuko draped an arm over her.

Her breathing hitched in her throat, and she froze. His forehead was practically resting between her shoulder blades, his warm breaths flowing down the length of her spine.

It was innocent. His hands weren't even on her. He wasn't aware of what he was doing. It was subconscious, but she couldn't keep from shivering all the way down to her toes.

Given the circumstances, she sometimes forgot, but she knew that underneath all of his layers, all Zuko really wanted was to be loved. That was often what drove him to do what he did. It didn't excuse his behavior, but she understood. It was twisted but also kind of…sad.

At his core, he was still a caring, compassionate person. He was just misguided and lost due to his unrelenting, uncompromising drive to gain the respect and approval of the man she detested more than anything on this earth.

But it wasn't like she could cast judgment. She'd done horrible things for Ozai with the hope that they would eventually lead to freedom. Not only was Ozai a monster, but he'd turned them into monsters as well.

Slowly, she turned to face him. His expression was tight, troubled. His dark brow was knitting together.

Hesitant at first, she traced the edges of his scar and the regal slopes of his face with her fingertips, careful to avoid all the cuts and bruises. She continued her gentle ministrations until he stopped shifting as much and found peace in sleep again. His grip on her lessened and melted away as he drifted further into the realm of sleep.

Once he released her, she turned away from him and tried to ignore how much she missed his heat.

Zuko was bored out of his mind, which resulted in him shadowing Katara most of the time.

Wherever she went, he followed as a guard since he looked the part. It wasn't like there was anything else for him to do whenever he wasn't with Uncle and they weren't discussing various invasion strategies with Zhao.

It was really hard not to go into Zhao's chambers whenever he was alone and return the favor, but Uncle continually reminded him that this was not part of their plan. The plan was to lie low, regain his strength, and be patient until they reached the North Pole, which was even more boring than he originally thought.

He managed to swallow his urges for the sake of capturing the Avatar. He had to focus on that. He kept telling himself the payoff would be worth it. He could stomach days of monotonous lethargy if it meant he could finally have the Avatar.

Uncle said he should be grateful for the reprieve. And if he were honest, he'd admit that all the failure and effort it took just to keep up with the Avatar's movements were starting to get to him. Not to mention the fact that seeing Sokka was always about as pleasant as a punch to the gut. Seeing him never got easier. In fact, it got harder, and it messed with his focus to the point of hesitation.

Hopefully, when they reached the Northern Water Tribe, he'd be given another moment like the one at Pohuai Fortress where the Avatar would be alone and there would be no sign of Sokka. That way he wouldn't have to worry about holding back or Katara discovering the truth before he had the chance to explain himself.

Zuko often wondered what Katara would do once they reached the North Pole. Obviously, she was being hauled along for the ride, but she had also acquired an unsavory sense of loyalty to the Avatar.

It was a problem. To make things worse, they'd gotten under his skin. His resolve had wavered but only for a moment. He questioned himself and his motives. Briefly, he had contemplated a world where he was friends with the Avatar. It was easier to imagine than he cared to admit, but it was irrelevant.

What wasn't irrelevant, however, was Katara's loyalty. He no longer knew where she stood.

Was she planning on running away? Would she go as far as to join the Avatar? Would she betray their friendship like that? He knew Katara's position was a complicated one. She was part of an elaborate ruse, but their friendship was real; their bond was real. Surely, that had to count for something.

She said she wasn't on anyone's side, but he found that hard to believe. She called the Avatar by name. She was smiling at him and clearly wanted to help him. And if she discovered her brother was with him…

No.

It was unacceptable. He refused to lose Katara to the Avatar.

Perhaps that was another reason he stuck with her in these close quarters. As if staying close would keep him from losing her more than he already had. He could almost feel her slowly slipping through his fingers and that made him almost desperate to hold on. It filled him with a desperation he'd never felt before.

Despite the tension between them, he still found solace and enjoyment in her company. Yes, he was bored out of his mind, but he had to admit the time with Katara was nice. It reminded him of happier times. It also reminded him why it was so important to capture the Avatar. He had to get back home to his throne…with her.

Most of the time, it was like they were in their own little bubble away from the outside world and all that came with it. Just like when they were kids, she made life easier to swallow. Instead of focusing on all the turmoil in and around him, he was able to focus on her…probably a little too much.

Zuko was a man…with needs, and his continual close proximity with Katara was doing things to him.

She was so different now (they both were), and the love he'd had for her since they were children was still there, but it was slowly morphing into something else. He was looking at her differently, and since he often played the role of her guard, that meant looking at her a lot.

Katara was beautiful and gentle despite everything his father had done to her. She still had the unique ambiance of a waterbender, and he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

He admired her strength. He admired her resilience. He admired her kindness. He even admired how stupidly stubborn she was sometimes.

Every moment they spent together was a moment he noticed things he'd never noticed about her before like the curve in her spine, the subtle sway of her hips when she moved, the dimples in the rich skin covering the small of her back, the slender slopes of her neck, and the fact that her eyelashes were so long and thick they practically grazed her cheeks.

She was stunning. He could admit that. He could even appreciate it to the point that his blood would boil and his fingers would itch to make some kind of contact with her. He never followed through though. It felt wrong to cross that line despite how everything inside him was begging him to test the boundary between them.

"What?" she snapped when he caught his blatant staring.

They'd already played Pai Sho about eight times. They'd eaten, sparred a little, and now she was toying with some water she'd bent out of a nearby water basin. Zuko was trying to meditate nearby, but he wasn't focused at all, so there wasn't actually that much meditating going on.

He closed his eyes and tried to even his breathing. "Nothing."

When he peeked at her again, her skin was slightly flushed as she nervously put some of her hair behind her ear.

Zuko swallowed thickly. Damn it all. He wanted her. He knew he did. He supposed he always had but he'd never wanted her like this. Not until now.

"I'm taking a walk." He needed air. He needed to cool down and clear his head. He needed to sort out all these weird sensations thrashing around inside him.

"Want me to come with you?" She rose to her feet and took a step toward him.

"No," he snapped, his tone much terser than he meant it to be. He cleared his throat and tried again. "No. We've been walking around together a lot. Someone might get suspicious since you usually try to avoid your guards."

"Oh." She looked a little disappointed, her brilliant eyes falling. "Right."

Throwing his helmet back on, Zuko blazed out of the room and into the nearest corridor.

They needed to get to the North Pole and fast before he did something he'd regret.

It had begun to snow. Zuko was pretty indifferent to the arctic weather, but when Katara joined him on deck for yet another routine, evening 'patrol', she'd been elated to see the white dust floating in the air.

"It's been so long since I've seen snow…" she breathed, her eyes bright as the frozen precipitation began to fall onto the ship's deck.

Katara's smile was almost childish as she fluttered around and held her hands out for the snowflakes.

The sun had set, making the snow practically glow as it lowered from the gloomy heavens. It also made it colder, something Zuko wasn't thrilled about, but he couldn't leave. He was staring. Again. But he couldn't help it. There was something so captivating and endearing about the way she was moving to catch the falling snow.

It was simple, almost like a dance, but it made him smile a little.

Katara stopped, closed her eyes, and held her head back.

He would have given anything to read her mind at that moment. She was clearly somewhere else, lost in her own mind.

She used to do this when they were younger. There would be this faraway look in her eyes, and he would know that she was gone. He never knew where she went, but he'd always wondered.

Zuko cast his gaze out to the iceberg-ridden horizon, his forearms resting across the cold railing of the ship.

"How close do you think we are?" she asked as she leaned against the railing with him.

"Probably another day or two," he replied, his eyes going to the icy water flowing beneath the ship.

Katara nodded slowly.

It grew quiet, but it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. It was actually kind of nice. Everyone else was below deck. Most of them were asleep, and those who weren't asleep couldn't handle the cold, so the only sounds were the dull hum of the ship's engine and the steady flow of the water echoing along the vessel's hard exterior.

"Why didn't you ever write me back?"

Zuko almost flipped over the railing. He hadn't been expecting that. He was thankful he was wearing his helmet so she couldn't see the utterly shocked look on his face.

"...I tried. I must have started a thousand letters." It was true. He almost wrote her back countless times. "I could never really find the right words. Being banished made a lot of things seem…pointless."

"Like me?" The pain in her voice was evident.

"No. No!" He pulled himself from the railing to square up with her. He even went as far to take the face piece of his helmet out so she could see his eyes. "Not you. That's not what I meant."

Her head cocked to the side as if to ask: What did you mean?

"I just…didn't know what to say. That's all." He cast his gaze away, and he sounded irritated, but he wasn't irritated with her. He was irritated with himself.

"You could have said something…anything! I needed..." she hesitated, her voice almost breaking as snow began clinging to the edges of her thick hair. "I needed someone, Zuko. I know that you didn't want to leave and that you had no choice, but I was so alone…and angry…and overwhelmed with all the things they were making me do…"

"I'm sorry." He wasn't even sure what he was apologizing for. He just couldn't stand her upset, specifically with him.

Tears were threatening to fall, but she wiped them away instantly as if she didn't want him to see them.

"I didn't need much," she whimpered, her eyes low. "I just…"

Zuko felt like an ass. He got so caught up with his own abundant issues that he often forgot just how much she'd been forced to endure, things he wouldn't even be able to comprehend.

Katara didn't want this. She didn't want any of this. It had all been forced on her. All she'd ever wanted was to have her home and family back.

He held her, consequences be damned. Someone could see but he couldn't ignore her pain.

She clung to him for dear life, years of pent up frustration and hurt pouring out of her eyes onto his armored chest.

Absentmindedly, he began running his fingers through the length of her hair.

Zuko wasn't exactly acquainted with comforting others. What little he did know, he'd learned from Uncle, his mother, and of course, Katara herself. He wasn't confident in what he should do so – just like when they were children – he acted on instinct. He just did what felt right and hoped it would work.

"I'm sorry," he repeated lamely as he rested his head on hers. "I'll make it up to you…somehow. I won't leave you like that again."

If he were a decent person, he would have offered to help her get home. He would tell her about her brother. He would try to do something so he could give some small fragment of her old life back to her.

But Zuko wasn't a decent person. He was a hot-tempered, bitter, selfish person, and he couldn't bring himself to let her go.

Suddenly, she was tense against him, her body rigid. She began trying to create distance between them.

Was it something I said...?

As someone of royal lineage, Zuko liked to think that he could read people pretty well. He would have to if he was going to be the Fire Lord someday, but lately, Katara was hard to read. She'd warmed up to him a lot since they began inhabiting the same space again, but she was still pretty hot and cold.

One moment, it was like they had never been apart. Things were effortless. The next she was cold as ice towards him.

She looked up at him, her eyes sad and conflicted. As if remembering something, she pushed him away. Still sniffling, she left the deck and went back into the ship, leaving Zuko cold and completely dumbfounded.

Why couldn't she stop crying? Katara couldn't even remember the last time she'd cried, but once she started, she couldn't stop.

Why had she come apart like that? She went from feeling nothing to feeling everything.

Maybe it was the snow. Maybe it was the familiar cold doing things with her memories. Maybe it was all the contact she'd had with Zuko stirring up old, new, and very confusing feelings. Maybe it was all the conflicting emotions she felt regarding basically every aspect of her life. Or maybe it was years and years of torment and suffering catching up to her. Was she finally snapping? Had something in her broken completely? It wouldn't surprise her. Since she'd been abstaining from bloodbending lately, she often felt like the waterbender and bloodbender were at war inside her, constantly fighting for dominance.

She didn't know the exact reason, but she was angry, sad, confused, and hurt all at the same time. Her very soul ached.

Katara was huddled in the floor of her room, her arms wrapped around her waist as if it could keep her from splitting down the middle.

"Katara…?"

"Go away…" she rasped between jagged, pain-filled breaths. She was ashamed. She didn't want to cry. Not even in front of him. Not anymore. A long time ago she'd decided she would stop. She'd shut a lot of her emotions off for the sake of self-preservation. She thought she was done crying. She thought she was done with breakdowns like these.

Apparently not…

"You know," Zuko began, his tone almost smug as he bolted the door shut and removed his helmet, "you have always said that to me, but I don't think you've ever really meant it."

Katara shot him a black glare before turning away from him again.

Zuko knelt down in front of her, took her face in his hands, and forced her to look at him.

"Talk to me," he commanded. His tone was hard but his eyes were soft.

Her cheeks flushed, her tears streaming onto his thumbs. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

His eyes went to her mouth briefly before they flickered back to her eyes. There was a dull heat in his gaze, but he was patient, ready to wait as long as necessary to get a response from her.

"I want to go home," she replied, her voice hushed yet chocked. "I don't want to see the invasion. I don't want the Avatar to be captured. I don't want to take his bending. I just want all of this to stop. I want it all to go away. I want my mother…" Her eyes fell.

There hadn't been a conscious decision to say any of that, but she'd been conditioned over the years to trust Zuko, and apparently, she still did despite her better judgment. He was one of the few – if not the only – person she could talk to about any of this. Further, he was the only person she wanted to talk to about it. He knew who she really was and what she really was. He'd been there when it started. He understood.

Without uttering a word, Zuko pulled her into his lap and held her. His embrace was so warm and firm she thought she'd melt and fuse to him forever.

Katara wrapped her arms around his neck so tightly she knew it had to be painful, but she didn't care. She needed this. She'd been so lonely and starved for any kind of intimate, human contact she couldn't tell if what she really wanted was the contact itself or the contact with Zuko, but at that moment, it didn't matter.

Old habits die hard…

At that moment, she realized things hadn't changed as much as she thought. She was still an emotional mess, and Zuko was still trying his best to comfort her. The scenario was the same even if certain aspects had evolved. She didn't recall his touch feeling quite like this before…

His hands were in her hair and up and down the length of her back.

Zuko infected her like a virus. She was helpless to stop it. In the short time they'd spent on this ship together, he'd already spread through almost every fiber of her being like a disease.

Katara had no idea how long she cried into the heated armor covering his torso or how long they stayed together as a crumbled heap on that worn, Fire Navy rug. It had probably been too long. She needed to get a grip.

"Do you hate me?" She pulled away and wiped the remnants of her tears onto her sleeves. She wasn't even entirely sure why she asked but a part of her felt like she should after everything she'd just said.

He didn't answer for a long time. His expression was blank and unreadable, but he continued to touch her with a shocking amount of tenderness. His hands were gliding along her neck, her shoulders, her arms, and even her face, but she didn't mind. It felt good, and it had been a long time since something felt this good.

"I don't think I could even if I wanted to," he whispered, his words deep, almost husky.

They stayed in the floor a little longer until he lifted her up and carried her to the bed. He pulled the blankets back, tucked her in, and lied on top of those same blankets next to her.

Her head was spinning with turbulent emotions. She had so much she wanted to ask. There was so much to confront, but as always, deep down she knew it wouldn't change anything. When they reached the Northern Water Tribe, Zuko would pursue the Avatar. He wouldn't give up even if she begged him to.

He's still a firebender. He's still Prince of the Fire Nation, and he's still Ozai's son, a voice much like Hama's chided, the uncanny timbre echoing in the back of her head.

Still, that didn't keep her from burrowing into his chest and soaking up all the comfort he offered. She resolved to enjoy the fragile moment while it lasted. She had no idea what might happen or what she might have to do once the invasion started.

A/N: Thanks SO much for reading and reviewing!

I've had some of you ask about how Aang got out of the iceberg, you know, since Katara was no longer at the South Pole at the time. Don't worry! I have an answer! We just aren't at the point in the story where I can explain just yet, but we WILL get there! Just trust me ;)

Ah, don't you just love the smell of teenage angst? I think I've mentioned this before but I've always thought bloodbending would kind of make people…unstable—at least that was the vibe I got from the Avatar universe! So mix bloodbending issues with teenage hormones (not to mention these two have been pretty isolated over the years) and you basically get this chapter!

Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!