He laid back against the pillow of a bed in Ba Sing Se, and he closed his eyes, safe with the knowledge that he was under the same roof as his uncle once again. Uncle Iroh had said they'd talk tomorrow when he saw the kids' faces; they were exhausted beyond belief and he'd ushered them upstairs and into separate bedrooms.
Zuko laid back against the pillow of a bed in Ba Sing Se, and he opened his eyes; they stung with the afterimage of Mai burned onto the backs of his eyelids. A thousand and one thoughts ran through his mind. A million and two memories caressed his skin, as soft as her fingertips, as soft as her lips.
This was something he'd been putting off. This was something he'd tried his best to avoid altogether. He'd told himself that he didn't need to get over her, because there was nothing to get over, nothing to miss.
Oh, how very wrong he'd been.
He thought of Mai like he thought of the sun. She was something that was always there in the back of his mind, like the sun was always in the sky, even when it was dark. Mai could be on the other side of the world, but Zuko would still feel her presence next to him, in the nighttime.
He thought of Katara and the kiss and what it meant, because it was more than just what she'd brushed it off as: a heat-of-the-moment ordeal. He knew it, he knew she knew it, and something like anger filled his bones as he tossed and turned under the thin green sheets.
Mai'd seen them. She'd seen them kissing, maybe even dancing. He hadn't asked her how long she'd been there. How long she'd been just a little ways away, watching from the distance as he felt she was always doing nowadays.
Azula didn't let her out of her sight too much; his sister believed that herself, Mai, and Ty Lee were some kind of bound trinity, and she enforced that with having them at her flanks every step of the way.
He knew Mai didn't say anything; couldn't say anything, because she was the General's daughter and a real friend of Azula's, distant as she was. Mai was a gray character, but she wasn't boring, not at all. That was what he loved most about her; her quiet passion.
Where Mai's passion was quiet, Katara's passion was loud and red and violent and heavy, a lot like the dancing balls that he'd heard his parents throw when he was supposed to be sleeping. He'd heard important feet dancing in the rooms below him, and right now, the memory of those thudding footsteps was as loud as the pounding in his head.
It wasn't like he hadn't agreed to overlook the kiss. In fact, he'd been happy to brush it off…at the time. He kicked himself for not saying something more and allowing Katara to act like it was nothing; because he knew, and she knew, that it was more than nothing.
But there was more for the prince to deal with than kisses and girls; more for him to worry about than someone else's feelings. He thought of his uncle and what Iroh would say tomorrow, squeezing his eyes closed in a half-hearted attempt at sleep.
What's so important? He thought, opening his eyes again and turning onto his back. It was a half-moon tonight but there were still bright moonbeams falling through his window; he glanced out at the night sky and tried not to think of Katara.
Uncle Iroh would be waiting in the morning, and Zuko was positive that whatever the ex-General had to say, it was about his sister.
Azula was black and red and bloody and evil; insane, like his father. He remembered when he'd shared the same madness, the same bloodlust and the same craving for dominance. Everything had always been just out of reach for him, but for Azula, anything that could be acquired or achieved had always longed to be in her hands.
His father was the same way; terrifying and electric and burning like a fire that never went out, like the fire that surrounded the Fire Lord's black throne. Being born into royalty has its perks, thought Zuko, but the price we pay is insanity.
The prince rolled onto his stomach and smothered himself against his pillow, groaning inwardly at the insomnia that never seemed to let him out of its grasp. He was able to push away his doubts when the sun was up, when he was strong, but it was nighttime, dark out, and he was vulnerable as ever.
How am I supposed to teach the Avatar if Azula's got him? he thought, gripping the sheet that covered his shoulders in his fingers until it was wrinkled. How am I supposed to defeat my father if it's just me and Katara? We don't stand a chance by ourselves.
His imagination forced upon him the thoughts of the waterbender bathed in blood, Fire Nation red, at the feet of his father, and he knew that he had to save her. Save the Avatar and his friends. It was all Zuko could do, if he ever wanted to save himself.
But the price we pay is insanity.
Madness filled his veins and evaporated off of his skin as he tossed and turned; the moon shifted its look on the Earth and somehow still, the prince would not fall asleep.
Mai, he thought. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I abandoned you. I left you on your own to deal with my sister and my father, when I'm the one who's related to them, when I'm the one who was supposed to take care of you.
Aang, he thought, gasping. I finally know your name. I know what I've put you through, and I can barely expect you to allow me to be an alliance, but please. I'm not asking for forgiveness, just for redemption. I'm so, so sorry.
Katara, he said, and her name, like water, ran over his tongue in a small, exasperated whisper. Desperation was not a part of noble blood, fine hair, and pale complexions, but he could taste it as well as he'd tasted ash the day of and the week after he received his scar. I hope you can trust me. I don't know if I can even trust myself; I don't know what I'm even doing. I'm just trying to help, but everything I do only seems to make it worse. I'm sorry. I'm angry and I'm afraid and I hate myself and I'm not sure if I hate you or like you, but I'm sorry. I can't be better, but I can hope.
He threw himself over in his bed and prayed that he wasn't waking the others; he couldn't deal with their questions and what his answers might be. Zuko just wanted to turn off his brain as easily as blowing out a candle, but he couldn't help but worry, worry, worry.
"Mai," he gasped aloud, remembering the smell of her hair and the taste of her tongue. "I'm sorry."
"Katara," he whispered again, throwing an arm over his eyes to try and block out the light; block out the heat of the nation of the sun that he was born into, born of and as. He was a prince. He was royalty, exiled as he might be, and this would be defined as cowardice. Still, his thoughts pressed on, as feverish as his lips did when he'd held the waterbender in his arms. "Katara," he said a third time, remembering her once-in-a-blue-moon eyes. His words were lost from him, and the anguish and fear took over him in one whooshing sweep.
Maybe a tear fell, or maybe it was just sweat, but the feeling was the same.
Katara stared, wide awake, at the ceiling as she cuddled up to her own exhaustion but still could not fall asleep. Her mind was running, jumping, racing over rocks and through trees, through the air of the night, and all she wanted was peace.
Peace with her thoughts and her goals, peace with her friends and with Zuko, odd as it may be; peace with the Fire Nation and the entire world.
There were decisions to be made, thoughts to be spoken aloud, dreams to be crushed and fulfilled. There was a war to win, both on the inside and outside, and once again, Katara found herself struggling in between what she feared and what she hoped.
Her eyes were hot with anger and maybe tears, but she blinked away the confusion and focused on what mattered most: Aang.
He was far away, and she was the one who put the distance between them. Through and through, it was always her fault that they were separated. Whether she said something he didn't want to hear and he took off with only his glider, or she got angry and left, it was always by her own instigation.
She was in a different city, on a different land mass, and she was miles away from Aang. Always thinking of them as close, she'd underestimated how far apart they were until there was actual, physical, solid distance between them.
And she was with Zuko. The banished prince of the Fire Nation who was, more or less, Aang's sworn enemy. But here she was, dancing with him and, for the love of Tui and La, kissing him.
She wanted to believe that it didn't matter; that nothing mattered but Aang, but she was slowly discovering that there was more to life than being the Avatar's waterbending teacher. Katara was on her own with Zuko, but she was frightened as if it was only herself against the world.
For the first time in her life, she realized what Aang must've felt like. Having the world to face, whole nations awaiting your assistance – she squeezed her eyes closed and tried to think that she would act differently than Aang, with that burden.
Turning onto her right side, she stared out the window, and the sun must've been on the other side of the building, because it was pitch black outside. How desperately she needed the moon; how she wanted to be afraid of the night was inexplicably drawn to it.
Where there was darkness, there was Zuko. Zuko was the epitome of haunted. Haunted and haunting were two different things, but they were of the same effect when it came to Zuko and Katara. Meaning, of course, that while he had his demons and she had her demons, there was no doubt in her mind that she wasn't filled with his impression.
He was rich with money but poor with charisma; alone, solitary, singular, abandoned by his family. Katara tried to imagine the feelings that she would have if she were in his position; if her father and Sokka had pushed her out into the cold and branded her with a mark that she would bear all her life; a mark that said, "I am a reject."
She felt for Zuko in the most blind of ways, but the truth was that she wasn't blind at all. She could see everything that he could. Katara could almost wrap her arms around the angst that filled the prince, and while she could see it in his eyes and had tasted it on his tongue, she couldn't do a thing to stop it.
Just another worry. Add Zuko to the list of problems to fret over. Go on, let yourself get close to him. Fear what he fears. Know what he knows. I dare you.
Her thoughts were venomous and she tried to push them away, but one could only do so much when it came to the things inside their head.
She wanted to leave, to run and to get away, but she had to stay. She knew it better than she knew herself; if she didn't take Zuko's offer of help – his lending hand, she wouldn't be able to accomplish the things that both she and Aang needed. He needed a firebending teacher, ultimately, but right now, what the Avatar needed was a hero.
I can't be a hero. I can't be a savior if I can't even save myself, right? she thought, remembering her encounters with June. Both times, she hated herself for knowing, she'd needed her so-called worst enemy's help in escaping.
And now she needed him to help Aang, to help Toph…and to help Sokka.
Sokka was her brother and they were bonded like no one else; she cherished that bond even more, now that she realized what awful things could come between, could separate a brother and sister. Needless to say, that was all thanks to Zuko and his crazy sister.
She thought of what she could do to defeat Azula, and hated the fact that the answer was nothing. Longing for the days of her childhood when everything had been simple, when she'd had her mother, Katara allowed a tear or two to slip down her cheeks.
The Fire Lord killed my mother, she thought, remembering the smell of the black snow that had covered the whole village. She had never really seen the Fire Lord, but she imagined he looked like Zuko and Azula – tall, with dark eyes and darker hair, pale skin, and clothed in Fire Nation red.
Zuko may resemble his father, she thought. But he's different from him. He isn't as violent anymore, nor as angry or scary. She wondered if he could be a real friend someday, and thought back to the kiss.
It mattered. Oh, how it mattered. Sure, she had liked boys, but she'd never felt that way in the presence of one. The way that Zuko had held her, kissed her, touched her…she had felt womanly, for the first time. Not motherly; she felt like that all the time around her brother, Toph, and Aang.
She wondered vaguely if that was how Mai felt when she and Zuko had shared a special relationship. If Mai had kissed Zuko dully, or passionately – but it wasn't Katara's place to think of that, or even ask. That was then, she told herself. This is now.
But now, everything was falling to pieces and anyything she did hadn't stopped it. Drowning in her own uselessness, Katara wished that she could simply bend the flood of hate that filled her lungs away.
Hate. Hate. When had she begun to feel this much hate? Was it back home, when she'd taken on the duties that her mother had previously held? Or was it when she'd embarked on the Avatar's journey?
Aang was as alone as she felt, even if he was surrounded by friends. She knew without question that he would be the sole person to defeat the Fire Lord, and he was just a kid.
He was just a kid.
And then there was her brother, who was so afraid yet so fearless. He held his sword and threw his boomerang, cracking jokes and looking after everyone despite his lazy attitude. The waterbender thought of Sokka; he who knew the risks but couldn't bend like anyone else – he who knew that all he could do was cut people open with a sword.
And with Sokka and Aang came Toph, whose own name even sounded tough. She was a smartass and was harsh with her sarcasm; it made up for any pity that she got for being blind. Toph had done well on her own, and she'd joined up with Aang's team to teach him how to earthbend. Katara was so, so grateful for Toph, even though she didn't show it, because while Toph was a true friend, she had also given the group two master earthbenders.
Toph and Sokka were the funny ones, and Katara didn't cry over the fact that she constantly had to mother them. In fact, annoyed as she sometimes was, she rather enjoyed it.
Aang was the child of the group, but Katara didn't see that as a problem. For Tui's sake, the kid was twelve and had been frozen for one hundred years. He needed room to grow, especially now more than ever, because so much was being placed upon his shoulders.
She tried to ease the burden, lift the weight some of the time so he didn't have to grow up as harshly as she did, but it was no use. Whenever things got to looking good, a crazy princess or an angry pack of villagers would tear Katara's friends down; tear the group apart.
Another thing that would deepen the wedge between her and the others was her newfound ally; imagining their reactions to Zuko and her support of the firebender as Aang's teacher, Katara feared that they could somehow come to accept Zuko as she herself was learning how to do.
The war came from his nation, but not from him personally – not anymore. Her father and his father were two different things, and they'd been raised with different parental personalities. No mothers and fathers whose lives were invested with the war, one family leading one side and the other barely a drop in the ocean of families who were desperately trying to fight back.
Katara turned onto her back again, trying to ignore her stinging eyelids. She remembered the burning memory of Azula capturing her friends – no, they were more than friends now. They were Katara's family.
Katara had no one, but she had Zuko, and for some reason, that was enough to hold her over until the dawn. She prayed that she could believe in him, that he wouldn't betray her, and something told her that this was a feeling to go with.
The sun rose and so did their bodies; their rooms and moods beginning to lighten up. Katara hoped what Zuko's uncle had to say was important, and Zuko knew that whatever path that Iroh pointed them down, he could trust the old man.
They descended the stairs, walking into the back room of the place that Iroh was currently residing in, and their eyes met his as he gestured for them to sit down.
Looking them over, one by one, he said, "I suppose it's time to tell you about the Order of the White Lotus."
Author's Note: I was kind of really iffy about this chapter and the last, but I know how I want to continue the story now, and I actually feel pretty confident about how I wanna end it (I'm not saying it's ending soon, by the way - I've got like 12 more chapters mapped out). So I hope you're okay with this, because I feel like it's okay for what's about to happen. :) As always, reviews are encouragement and help me better the stories that I write. Thanks for reading this far, and I hope you continue to the end!