Chapter 10: Of Letting Go
"Not a step closer!" Sela threw herself in front of Lee, as though the taint of Zuko's mere gaze would damage her child. Zuko fought to keep from flinching, glancing up at Lee, who peered out at him from behind his mother. Swallowing the sharp sting of her silent rebuttal, Zuko knelt, holding the reclaimed blade in one outstretched hand.
"It's yours. You should have it."
The boy's face twisted into a snarl. "No! I hate you!"
I hate you.
Zuko stared up at Lee, betrayal and hurt swimming in his chest as the words sucked him into a memory, half forgotten and faded with age.
"I hate you, Zuko!"
Azula snatched his stick away, snapping it in half and setting it alight, before flinging it across the garden, fury contorting her seven - year - old face. Hurt, Zuko scowled, leveling a nasty glare at her.
"You're just jealous I'm better than you at something." Surprise lit her face, and, feeling bolstered, Zuko pushed forward. "What, are you afraid your friends will abandon you when they find out you're not the best at everything?"
Surprise twisted into rage. "You?" She spat, advancing. "Better? Ha! That's ridiculous. Just. Like. You." She stabbed him in the chest with an accusing finger. Zuko recoiled, lips parted in a half formed protest that went unheard as his sister continued her tirade. "You're nothing. You're just . . . just . . . Zuko. Pathetic and useless and whiny and worthless and stupid." His eyes stung with unshed tears as she shoved him down, his back slamming against the ground. Something in his chest constricted, making it difficult to remember how to breathe.
"That's not true!"
"Isn't it? Father knows. He sees what you really are." Her lips curved into a malevolent grin as she stepped closer, her voice lowering. "I know where you got those bruises."
He inhaled sharply, blood draining from his face as shame welled up in him. "You're lying. You don't know anything." She smiled wider, a cold, predatory expression.
"I know everything. Face it, Zuko. You're a sniveling crybaby who doesn't have the guts to stand up for himself. You're a coward and a disgrace and no one will ever like you."
The rest of the memory was lost to his recollection, but the sting of her words had never left.
"I hate you, Zuko!"
"I hate you!"
His limbs moved of their own accord, standing and turning away from the mother and son he'd just saved. Sensing the danger he presented, the townspeople kept their distance, allowing him to pass unmolested, their sneers and hate filled glares only directed his way after he had passed out of immediate striking distance. As though he were a taint. As though he were a monster.
Three minutes ago, he'd been their champion. Their hero. Their savior.
No one will ever like you. They see what you really are.
Fingers curling around the bridle, his ostrich horse snorted, stamping its foot at he swung himself into the saddle. Numb, Zuko rode through the path they'd reluctantly cleared for him, their threatening expressions all the warning he needed to know not to tarry here. The only feeling he registered at all was another pang of rejection that shuddered through his chest as he passed Sela and Lee, the boy scowling and pointedly refusing to look at him.
Something about the entire procession struck him as ominous, the eerie silence and careful distance they kept from him exactly mirroring the way the guards and palace staff had treated him as he was ushered from his hospital cot to his ship when he was banished three years ago. Something in their eyes, when they looked at him, that somehow marked him as and outcast.
The burning orange glow of the late afternoon sun filled Zuko's vision as the village slowly vanished behind him, and a dull lethargy settled over him, seeming to sink into his bones as his steed wandered onward at its own easygoing pace. He could find neither the energy, will, nor destination to direct it, or himself. Somewhere along the way, the rage he'd carried inside him, bubbling and boiling, had fermented into bitterness, poisonous bitterness that sapped any drive he still possessed.
Do not give in to despair. Allow yourself to slip down that road and you surrender to your lowest instincts.
Zuko's frown deepened. There's a difference between having feelings and acting on them. Acknowledging a state of mind isn't the same as allowing it to overrule your morals.
No, it's not, Iroh agreed. But it is the first step in that direction.
It occurred to Zuko that perhaps he was going slightly mad. Or, slightly more mad. He'd never heard Iroh's voice before, only Azula's.
When you need me, I'll be there.
How long had it been since Uncle had said that the first time? He couldn't recall. Too tired to argue further, Zuko scanned the undergrowth nearby, spotting a cave that was concealed well enough. He took shelter as the sun disappeared below the horizon, and, curling up in a fetal position, he couldn't remember having ever felt so cold.
The bright, clear light of dawn brought no resurgence of purpose or determination, but the massive tracks of some undoubtedly formidable machine cutting into the earth just a ways away from his nighttime shelter did. There was, after all, only one person the Fire Lord would allow to openly gallivant across unconquered territory in top-of-the-notch, new, experimental war machines. The favored child, Princess Azula. Zuko reeled.
She tried to kill me.
And she'd gone straight past him. She would've known neither he nor Iroh had been capable of travelling much farther from the coast so quickly, and yet she hadn't even paused to scout out around this area. His sister was cleverer than that. Which could only mean one thing: she was already in hot pursuit of another target - one with high speed methods of travel, judging by Azula's response. Zuko's stomach dropped.
There was only one person who Azula would have deigned to notice, let alone make top priority, above the Fire Lord's own command. And if she wouldn't hesitate to take me out, she certainly wouldn't bat an eye at killing the Avatar.
The visage of the monk's terrified, pleading face filled his mind, and Zuko sighed heavily, before dusting off his hands and remounting the ostrich horse. Giving the beast a firm spur, he clung tight to the reign as the creature tore off at a frantic gallop, following the trail Azula had cut into the ground.
And she says I'm obvious.
"Do you really want to fight me?"
Zuko threw himself out of the saddle, landing in a crouch as the ostrich horse trotted out of harm's reach. Hopefully he'd be able to find the snippish thing again later. Focus, he reminded himself. Straightening, he tossed his hat aside. "Yes, I really do."
"Zuko!" He'd been right. The Avatar stood to his right, clearly surprised.
He shouldn't be, by now.
Azula smirked, a cold quirk of her ruby lips as she calmly observed him. "I was wondering when you'd show up, Zuzu."
Anger bubbled in his chest, and his eyes narrowed at his much hated nickname. The Avatar snorted. "Zuzu?"
Oh, really? Swallowing his annoyance, he kept his eyes fixed on his sister, spreading his hands in a beginning stance, one for each opponent. There's no telling whose side that airbending goody-two-shoes will take, if any. "Back off, Azula! He's mine."
She responded in kind, curling her arms aggressively. "I'm not going anywhere."
Eyeing the two of them warily, Zuko forced himself to breathe normally. He didn't particularly want to fight the Avatar, but given his own previous track record, he wouldn't be surprised, nor could he really complain, if the monk decided he was still a threat. And fighting Azula, he couldn't afford to trust that the airbender wouldn't take a shot at him. Just one slip up, and Azula would fry him - well, both of them, really - to a crisp. While this would be the first 'fair' fight they'd had in three years - he'd been duped last time, it didn't count - Zuko wasn't stupid enough to hope he'd improved enough comparatively to make it out with anything less than a brutal beating. But that didn't mean he should panic and just give her the victory.
She'd never had to earn anything in her life, and just this once he was determined to change that.
His only warning was a slight widening of her grin, before she was slinging a blue blast at him.
Katara grinned, a sweep of her hand freeing Aang from the wooden beam that pinned him to the floor of the wrecked skeleton of a building. For a moment, she couldn't help but reflect on how utterly wrong is was to pin Aang down like that. He was the epitome of his element - like the wind, it shouldn't be possible to trap him. It was a violation of his very nature. The idea sickened her, imagining her friend and the savior of the world locked up under the earth, withering away and cut off from the freedom that was his element.
It would be kinder to just steal the air from his lungs. And that's why I'll never let the Fire Nation take him.
"Katara!" the monk shouted enthusiastically. The girl, taking advantage of her distraction, whirled and whipped a blue blaze of flame at the waterbender. Katara gasped, flinging herself out of the door and running as fast as she could. Precise, fleet footsteps pounded behind her, until a familiar cry sounded, the clash of metal on armor identifying her rescuer as Sokka. Whirling, she flexed her arms, watching as Aang defended her brother. Gathering herself, Katara moved across from the boys, as Crazy-Blue-Fire-Girl ducked into the center of the street, facing off against the trio. Moving in sync, the three of them wordlessly began closing in around the firebender.
She targeted Aang first, swinging a ferocious, fiery punch at him, and Katara slammed her arm with a deluge of water, Aang leaping away with inhuman grace. She and Sokka were treated to blasts next, she and her brother each leaping to the side, until Crazy-Blue swept a blaze to their right, sending them both diving out of the way.
Aang jumped Crazy-Blue, distracting the firebender while the Water Tribe teens regained their feet, she and Sokka again attempting to help Aang corner the girl. Crazy-Blue responded by whipping a blast at all of them, buying her own recovery; she stood her ground as they closed in, when suddenly the girl's feet flew out from beneath her, revealing a grinning Toph behind the fallen firebender.
"I thought you guys could use a little help."
Relieved to see the petite earthbender safe and present, Katara relinquished the animosity she'd held against the girl since last night. She grinned in return, then remembered that Toph couldn't see her expression. "Thanks."
As the waterbender focused on their opponent once more, Crazy-Blue, seeming to realize the odds had tipped too far against her, made a break for it - only to run headlong into a stout and strangely familiar old man. Eyes narrowing at the newcomer, Katara momentarily froze in panic as she identified the lanky teen beside him.
Zuko.
Though he was much altered from when she'd last seen him - his ridiculous ponytail replaced by short, scruffy dark locks and red armor by nondescript, ragged brown robes - there was no mistaking him, with his piercing gold irises and the enormous burn covering a good chunk of the left half of his face. Katara's mind whirled with unanswered questions, her body moving instinctively back into the fray, as the two new firebenders joined the line, effectively cornering Crazy-Blue against a half - destroyed wall.
Where did they come from? Has he been here the whole time? Why is he helping us, instead of her?
Another quick glance to the side revealed the Prince's attention zeroed in on their apparently mutual enemy. Katara's stomach dropped as she took note of how carefully he watched Crazy-Blue, twitching in response to her every slightest movement, and not sparing her - or, more tellingly, Aang - so much as a glance. She'd never seen him this on edge, not even while he was hunting their gang.
And if Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, who'd hunted and faced down the Avatar himself at least a dozen times, was afraid of this girl who bent blue flames, then Katara had a sinking feeling all of them should be downright terrified.
"Well, look at this. Enemies and traitors, all working together," Crazy-Blue sneered, taking another careful step away from the half circle of opponents she'd garnered.
Traitors?
In her peripheral vision, neither firebender so much as blinked at the accusation. Surprised, her brow creased. She'd have expected vehement, loud, immediate denial at such a charge, and probably some stomping and smoke from Zuko's ears, at the very least. The lack of reaction was unnerving. Is it true, or does he think she'll fry him if he so much as twitches? Either way, this certainly wasn't the first time he'd heard the accusation.
Unperturbed, Crazy-Blue lifted her hands coolly. "I'm done. I know when I'm beaten. You got me. A princess surrenders with honor."
Princess? But that means . . . she's . . .
The waterbender never finished the thought, because without warning, Crazy-Blue jerked into motion, a blue blaze whipping from her fingertips and slamming into the old man. With a great cry of pain, he was slammed to the ground. He didn't rise. For a long, stunned moment, all she could hear was Zuko's strangled, horrified cry: and the sound, combined with the stench of charred flesh, called to life memories of her own disembodied screams, and brilliant red splashing against the white, white snow.
Blistering hatred erupted in her chest, and Katara whirled, slinging everything she had at the perpetrator like she wished she'd done six years ago.
The resulting explosion knocked her back a step, and when the smoke cleared the girl was gone, and Zuko was on his knees beside the old man, clutching his head in desperation. The distraught cry that tore its way from his lips a moment later was all it took to convince her to step forward, one hand already uncorking her waterskin.
"Get away from us," Zuko snapped, glancing over his shoulder.
"Zuko, I can help-"
"Leave!" he shouted, cutting her off and punctuating his demand with a burst of flame that sent the others scurrying away in acquiescence. Katara took a step back, relaxing slightly when the flames dissipated almost instantly: more for show than an actual attempt to drive her away.
"Katara, come on!" Sokka hollered from the edge of the now smoldering town.
"Just a minute!"
"I said leave." Quiet, almost a whisper.
"I know, and if that's what you really want, then I will," she began gently. "But for his sake, if not yours, hear me out first."
He made no reply, his back still turned, and after a moment's debate, she took it as permission to continue. "I learned healing from the waterbenders while I was at the North Pole.
That got his attention. Zuko stiffened, finally half turning to stare disbelievingly up at her.
"Why?"
Jaw twitching with annoyance, she forced herself not to roll her eyes. "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time." His glare darkened with irritation.
"Why would you use it to help me?"
Oh. Katara blinked, suddenly realizing that she didn't really have a very good reason. "Well, I, uh . . . "
Zuko's lip twisted disdainfully, eyes narrowing. "Right. You're just trying to help. Not exacting revenge for all the times I've wronged you by taking the one person I have left away from me. Not looking for a way to get me to let my guard down so you can make sure I'll never be a problem for your precious Avatar ever again."
Her jaw dropped, fuming. "I would never!"
"Then tell me why."
"Why does there have to be a reason?"
"Why?"
"Ugh!" Katara stomped her foot, fists clenching. "You're impossible."
"Why?"
"Because!" she shouted, shoulders shaking. "I will never turn my back on people who need me! I don't know why it's such a ridiculous concept to you, but some of us actually care about other people!"
Panting angrily, she glared defiantly at the firebender, waiting for his own angry rebuffal, but to her surprise, he considered her words, expression slowly morphing into something she couldn't quite name. Confusion? Pity? Shame?
After several long moments, he wordlessly scooted to the old man's other side, watching her expectantly, if still warily. Swallowing her surprise - she hadn't really thought he'd listen to her - Katara knelt, uncapping her waterskin with one hand while reaching out to peel the singed edges of cloth away from the burn, when pale fingers closed around her wrist. Sharp golden eyes bore into hers, and she swallowed nervously. This was not the boy who'd returned her necklace and never actually burned anyone, no matter how awful he might like to make himself seem. This Zuko meant business.
"If you try to hurt him," he breathed, unblinking, "it'll be the last mistake you ever make."
Katara nodded, eyes wide and heart racing, as the prince, seemingly satisfied, gently released her arm.
This Zuko was terrifying. She didn't doubt for a second he'd make good on his promise if she hurt the old man.
Prince, Princess.
Taking a shaky, unnerved breath, Katara formed the glove of liquid on her hand, delicately moving the singed scraps out the tunic out of the way, before summoning the ethereal blue glow to the water and pressing it lightly against the swollen, broken skin.
A flood of information from her outstretched hand began to solidify in her head, giving her a clearer picture of what exactly she was dealing with. And the deeper she delved, the more she recoiled in horror. Somehow, Zuko knew that girl. Knew her very well, from how he'd reacted to her. And the old man was always nearby, wherever Zuko went.
She was aiming to kill.
Not even, maybe, because she wanted the old man dead. Because whoever she was, that princess had known it would devastate Zuko.
A cold chill ran down her spine. Zuko had never been trying to kill them. Katara was fairly sure the prince needed Aang alive . . . for something. Probably so the Avatar wouldn't be reborn, but still. Alive. And he had never tried to strike her or Sokka down to cripple Aang's escape.
This new opponent, it seemed, had no such qualms.
But why didn't he? It would have made things a lot easier for him. He wouldn't be here now, alone and half starved. If he's the one who has none of this so-called honor he keeps monologuing about, why is he the one playing fair and her the one cheating?
Questions whirling inside her head, she began to work in earnest, repairing the deeper layers of muscle first. Those were the most important, and would take the longest to heal. Since Zuko obviously wasn't going to tolerate her trying to stick around for a second session, she had to do the big stuff as fast as possible. She worked soundlessly, brow occasionally furrowing with concentration as the strange feeling of flesh knitting itself back together unnaturally quickly consumed her attention, too deeply immersed in her task to completely recall the firebender on his knees across from her.
Finally satisfied that was all she could safely do now, she moved from the deeper layers of damage to the surface of the wound, refocusing her efforts on closing the skin. Hopefully if she could at least scab it over he wouldn't have to worry about dirt or infection. It was a much simpler task, and she glanced uncertainly up at Zuko, who watched with intent . . . interest. There was no denying the curiosity in his bright irises.
"Who was she?" she found herself wondering. Realizing she'd spoken her thoughts aloud, she wished she could slap herself. Risking a glance at the prince, she was unsurprised to find his expression darkening with hatred.
"Azula," he spat, looking ready to kill.
If it were Gran-Gran, I would be too.
Zuko glared at the smoldering buildings around them. Though she had quite a few more questions - who is Azula, how do you know her, is she really a princess, what happened to you? - she didn't want to risk the firebender's temper.
And asking someone if they're a traitor is a really good way to avoid getting fried.
A few more agonizingly long moments passed, before Katara lifted her hand, stowing away her water and inspecting the angry red wound. "I think that's the best I can do, for now," she murmured. Good eye narrowed wih interest, Zuko leaned forward, and Katara watched, surprised, as his expression morphed into . . . awe, as he stared in shoked silence at the amount of damage she'd managed to reverse. While still a bright, irritated red, whole flesh stretched across the old man's shoulder, nearly all of the swelling gone. It would still be painful, but he'd survive easily, and with some care it wouldn't scar.
Seemingly unconsciously, his left hand slowly drifted towards the damaged side of his face, his expression one of pain, and almost . . . longing.
It suddenly struck her for the first time, how serious a wound it must have been. How much agony he'd had to endure, over weeks and months, as it slowly scarred over.
That poorly submerged memory bubbled up again, the stench of charred flesh and so much red -
Before she realized it, she'd scrambled backwards, choking back the bile that rose in her throat. Shaken from his stupor, Zuko eyed her strangely.
Well, gee Katara, I wonder why that would be. Mentally berating herself, she struggled to find her voice again. "I, uh . . . they . . . it's getting dark!" she stammered, awkward. His only response was a brow quirked with disbelief, before he stood.
He's so thin.
Zuko's ragged clothing did nothing to disguise his emaciated figure, hanging off his bony frame like rags draped over a scarecrow. Absently, she wondered whether he'd always been so skeletal beneath his armor, or if he'd lost weight after having acquired his apparent refugee status.
How long has it been since the siege?
She already could hardly believe it was possible for someone's appearance to change so drastically in only a month or two. Borderline starved-thin, scruffy dark hair, and filthy rags, only his pale skin, gold eyes, and the scar remained the same. And her gut told her it would have taken a lot longer for him to lose this much weight if he'd been healthy when she saw him last.
Katara shook herself slightly. The other teen was still standing there, watching her with an unreadable expression. Great. He probably thinks you're crazy.
Clearing her throat, she shuffled her feet uncertainly. "When he wakes up, don't let him exert himself much. You'll want to give it enough time to be sure the damage deeper down has healed properly."
He nodded.
"I guess I'll just go, then."
Eyeing her for another long moment, the firebender finally gave her another clipped nod. Shrugging inwardly, she turned and began walking after the others.
"Thank you."
She almost didn't hear him, and she froze, turning, before hesitantly nodding in return.
That's what you get for assuming things about people you don't know. They all have layers; there's not one who's just what they appear on the outside.
As she found her way back to Appa, Katara found herself wondering what sort of person Zuko was beneath all those layers of anger and obsession.
He watched her retreat for several minutes after her slim figure vanished behind the tree line some hundred yards from the outer edge of the burning town. Shaking himself - what kind of idiot just stands and stares after a girl as all the buildings literally burn down around him? - he took a deep breath, picked one of the less destroyed buildings, and closed his eyes, focusing on his chi as he drew the energy from the flames.
When he opened them again, the blaze in the house before him had died completely.
Moving on to the next one, his mind drifted, the extra energy his body was sucking in feeding his already wild thoughts.
That girl is crazy. One minute, she's trying to bury me alive beneath a mountain of ice, and the next she's going out of her way to assist an old man she doesn't know, and a temperamental firebender she certainly despises.
Another blaze snuffed out.
"I will never turn my back on people who need me!"
What motive could she have had? Unless she was digging for information on Azula. That made sense, except all she'd asked for was a name. Maybe that was all she needed. Now she can ask someone else. No use risking my explosive temper over information she can acquire fireball-free from someone she actually likes. Someone less volatile. Less Fire Nation.
Yet something deep in his gut whispered she hadn't been after anything.
Nobody is that selfless. Nobody I've ever met, anyway. First time for everything, right? If there was anyone, it would be her. She's young, naive, and she travels with the Avatar. She can afford to be ridiculous.
He wondered whether she really meant it, though. Sure, she'd never turn her back on her allies, and it wouldn't surprise him if she thought every pocket of Earth Kingdom resistance was an ally. But . . . anyone? Even the Fire Nation? She'd helped Uncle, sure, but Uncle had been helping them stop Azula. Favors owed, favors paid.
Why not? You did.
Plains Village flashed in his mind, Lee's eyes full of anger and hatred.
Zuko's hands shook, and his control over the fire flickered.
He hoped she wouldn't find herself anywhere near a Fire Nation encampment in need of assistance anytime soon.
Grim, he sucked away the last of the flames, before stopping to consider their situation. It wasn't safe to stay here; Azula might make another pass through the area once she regrouped with the rest of her task force, and there was more than a decent chance that some Earth Kingdom troops were close enough to have seen the billowing smoke and come investigate. The safest place to be, at the moment, was far away from here. But Uncle was really in no shape to travel, and several structures still seemed intact enough to provide some real shelter.
Zuko sighed. There really wasn't another option. Giving a sharp whistle, he hefted Uncle's limp body and began moving him inside one of the less damaged buildings towards the center of the town. Hopefully the ostrich-horse was still within hearing range. If it had wandered too far away, his life was about to become even more difficult. He'd left what little supplies in the saddlebags, and Uncle having to walk the whole way would delay their evacuation even longer.
Heavy footsteps, a jingling harness, and a sharp nip on the ear allayed his worries. Breathing out with relief, he caught the bridle with one hand, guiding the ostrich-horse inside with him, and pulled the blankets from the saddle. Spreading them out and laying Uncle on them, he unsaddled the bird, letting it nip at his hair in gratitude.
So he'd grown fond of his pet. Big deal.
A quick survey of the town found a well that still had a fair amount of water in it, lots of abandoned furniture, and nothing else. Whoever had lived in this crumbling shell of a community had taken everything they could possibly have carried with them when they left. Though, oddly enough, there were no signs of invasion or siege. Perhaps the inhabitants had decided to evacuate while they still had time to breathe, rather risk becoming yet another occupied village with Fire Nation soldiers breathing down their necks every moment of every day.
Zuko refilled his flask, and filled an empty water trough for the ostrich horse, feeling strangely dejected by the image. Since before he could remember, he'd always been taught that the Fire Nation was fighting to make the world a better place.
So when had he realized that if that was ever truly the motive behind the last hundred years of endless bloodshed, they'd been failing dismally, with skirmish won and territory conquered?
Hey . . .
Once again, this is obnoxiously long overdue. But coming down with bronchitis is a great way to bore you into working on stuff . . . if only it weren't so painfully miserable. The good news is, we're finally getting close to a big batch of stuff that's already been written that I can just plug into. So, yay! This chapter is dedicated to breaking benjamin, for being amazing and giving me the most awesome soundtrack for this fic. If you're a fan of rock, check out their new album Dark Before Dawn. It's awesome and so perfect. XD
*end shameless fangirl rant*