Staring at the woman as she walked down the street, completely oblivious to his presence, Zuko though this must have been how Sokka felt when he saw his father step out of the gondola back at the Boiling Rock. Like his heart might explode from worry and excitement and joy and nerves, his legs frozen in place and trembling, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and possibilities.
Finally, after so long, he had found his mother.
A gentle hand touched his shoulder. Glancing over, he saw Katara with a small, kind smile on her face. "Do you wanna go talk to her?"
"I..." He looked back to where his mother was, growing further away with each step. Once again, his thoughts turned to ones of Ursa disowning him, rejecting him, or simply not even knowing who he was. What would she say? What would she do? What would he say and do? "... I-I dunno."
The hand on his shoulder gave a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "Why don't we just follow her, that way we know where to look when you're ready?"
He nodded, forcing his shaking legs to move forward, not even attempting to be stealthy like he usually would when tailing someone. It seemed doubtful she would recognize his older, mutilated face, especially from a distance. Besides, with his jelly-like, trembling legs, it wasn't likely he could be stealthy – it was hard enough just walking.
The trio followed Ursa through the quickly darkening street, meeting less and less people as they progressed. Their footsteps seemed impossibly loud to Zuko's ears, his frenzied nerves making his senses sharp and time crawl by at a slow trickle. Finally, the woman stopped in front of a small house. She made no move to enter.
His breath caught in his throat, but he convinced his feet to keep moving at the same causal pace. If he stopped too, it would be obvious that he was following her.
He was barely a foot away when his mother whirled around, swiping at him with something cold and sharp and glinting in the dim light.
"Who are-" she started, then silenced, eyes widening in recognition. The weapon slipped out of her hand, clattering onto the stone street. "Zuko..."
Her son stared wide-eyed, skin even paler than usual while a small dribble of blood trickled down his cheek, frozen stiff with shock and fear. Opening his mouth as though to speak, he managed only to make strangled, incoherent noises. His knees shook and his mind reeled and he thought he might collapse at any moment. Wouldn't that be great? Fainting the first time he sees his mother in years – that would leave a wonderful first impression.
But Ursa just smiled, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, wiping away the blood with her thumb as she murmured his name and fought off tears. He jolted at her touch, eyes roaming her face, his own holding an expression of disbelief.
"You're alive," he said in a barely audible voice, as though speaking too loud might make her disappear.
Thunder rumbled overhead, alerting them to the rest of the world. Glancing up at the dark, foreboding clouds, Ursa took her son's hand, leading him toward her house. "Come; let's go inside before we it starts to pour. Your friends can come too."
Looking back over his shoulder, Zuko beckoned the other girls with a nod of his head. They all hurried inside, cramming into the tiny kitchen. There were barely enough chairs for them at the table.
"I can't believe you're here, after all these years," his mother whispered, placing her hand on his cheek once again. Her fingers traced the edge of his scar, causing him to stiffen and look away, eyes downcast shamefully. "What has your father done to you?"
Katara stared at the tabletop, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She felt invasive, like she was eavesdropping on a private moment. At the same time, curiosity kept her from leaving, insisting she stayed and learned more about the firebender and his family.
"Why did you leave?" Zuko asked, glaring at the table and clenching his fists in his lap, a flurry of emotions distorting his features and voice. "Why did you abandon me?"
Ursa's expression softened, her voice gentle and apologetic as she said, ""Zuko, sweetie, I know what I did was hard to deal with, and I know I haven't always been there for you" – her gaze was fixed on his scar – "but believe me when I say everything I did was for your own good."
"Then why did you leave? I needed you! I-"
"Your father-"
"Is a maniac!" he bellowed, slamming a fist on the table. Lightning flashed in synch with the boom of thunder and rain began pounding insistently on the roof. The storm was intensifying. Pointing vehemently at the irreparable wound covering his left eye, Zuko yelled, "Look at what he did to me!"
Slowly, things slid into place in Katara's mind, realization dawning at last. The scar, his permanent burn, was from his own father? It seemed impossibly cruel, completely unbelievable, it...
It made perfect sense.
No wonder the firebender was so messed up – his sister was a psychopath, his father apparently abusive, and his mother a runaway. That was hardly a foundation for a stable lifestyle. It was a wonder he had any sanity or sense of morals, let alone enough to join the Avatar and save the life of an orphan.
The former Fire Lady took a deep breath, taking a few moments to compose herself before she spoke. When she did, her voice was calm and quiet. "Zuko, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't stay in the palace, and I couldn't take you with me. What I did the night I left... I did it to protect you, but I had to leave if I ever hoped to see you again. The punishment for murdering Azulon would not be dealt lightly."
Another flash of lightning filled the sky. The low roar of thunder shook the house. Nikko trembled, scooting her seat closer to Katara.
"I'm scared," she whimpered. "I hate lightning. Who's Zuko?"
Gathering the young girl into her arms, Katara stroked her braided hair and shushed her. "I'll explain later."
Zuko, still completely focused on his mother, didn't look the slightest bit surprised. "So that's what Ozai meant when he said you'd done treacherous things... But why? Why did you kill him?"
"Because it was the only way to keep your father from killing you," she said sadly, barely audible above the pounding rain. "By killing Azulon, Ozai wouldn't have to kill you as punishment for requesting Iroh's place on the throne."
Listening in silent horror, Katara instinctively covered Nikko's ears. This... This was Zuko's family? This was what he grew up with, the environment he was raised in? Even his mother, who seemed so gentle and protective, had gotten involved in the bloodshed of politics!
"So how did Ozai get the throne if Azulon didn't want him to?"
Ursa smiled bitterly. "I told him I had killed your uncle, the only other heir. Naturally, when the servants found him on his deathbed, they asked who he wanted to succeed him. Thinking Iroh was dead, he requested that the crown be given to his second son."
Zuko nodded solemnly, his anger having completely subsided. Everyone was silent, the downpour beating a constant rhythm on the roof, the flash of lightning and crash of thunder illuminating the room at random intervals. Katara counted the seconds between light and sound – three. The storm was starting to move away.
"When... When were you going to come back?" Zuko asked, voice cracking slightly. He kept his head down, shaggy bangs hiding his face in shadow.
"When the war ends," Ursa said, reaching out for his hand, which now rested on the table. "When you become Fire Lord and fix this mess."
"I... I don't think I'm cut out to be Fire Lord."
Of course you are," she assured him, stroking his knuckles with her thumb. "You have a heart of gold and a will of iron – that's what this nation needs if it's ever going to get better."
All at once, the prince broke down, shooting out of his seat and flinging himself at his mother, bumping his hip painfully against the table in his rush. He clung to her, face buried against her shoulder as his body shook with sobs, babbling hysterically and desperately into her shirtsleeve. Ursa's arms where around him in seconds, the action hindered only by surprise at the sudden embrace. She kissed the top of his head, murmuring comforting words into his hair.
The storm shook the world around them, slowly drifting away, leaving peacefulness in its wake.
Author's Notes: Lame ending is lame. xD Sorry. But, this chapter was hard to write (Drama! Angst! More Angst!), so over all I'm happy with how it came out. :3
Also, sorry for typos and the fact that might not get any other stories updated this weekend - there's a tropical storm coming, so the power might be out.
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Avatar' or any of its characters.