Chapter Eleven

It was better with Zuko around. He had no duties to attend to, unlike Djang, so he was at Katara's side nearly all the time. She showed him her path around the dungeons, and it became habit to walk it together several times a day. Katara hated the feeling of weakness she was developing in her legs. There were no opportunities to run, no trees to climb or lakes to jump into and swim; her muscles felt loose and heavy. Zuko told her that he occasionally ran laps around the dungeons, and with his encouragement she agreed to try it, too.

They started slowly, with Zuko holding both of her hands and jogging backwards as she stumbled after him. By the end of the first week, having completed the loop a dozen times a day, she felt confident to hold just one of his hands, and they ran side by side.

"Left in three," Zuko would say, and after two steps they would veer that way. "Mats ahead," and they would slow and quiet down. As they jogged the final length before their mat, she tried to judge their position.

"Now?" she asked, but he said not. Five steps later, she asked again. "Now?" At his confirmation, she dropped his hand and leapt to the right, landing in a crouch on the folded corner of her blanket. The material slipped beneath her feet and she lost contact with the ground - that is, until she hit the mat face first.

Heart racing from the shock of her feet going out from under her, she rolled over and laughed. She wasn't hurt, and she couldn't be upset with herself after that run. Zuko didn't speak, but she imagined his crooked smile as he stepped more gingerly onto the mat. She sat up and he sank down beside her. Her breath came heavily - she wasn't used to exercise anymore - but his was steady. "Thanks," she said, grinning widely. "That was amazing. I feel -" Her voice trailed off and her smile faded as she realized that she felt good. She was happy at this moment, here of all places, in these cold, dark dungeons. How had she gotten to this point? She shook her head. "It was good," she finished it an incredulous voice.

Zuko still didn't speak. The silence was comforting, but Katara broke it. "Can I tell you something?" she asked. He murmured his assent, but she took a moment before continuing. "You know what scares me the most? It's not... It's not the Fire Nation soldiers. It's not being here in the dungeons. It's not even being blind. What scares me the most is that I think I'm getting used to it. I'm accepting it - but I don't want to. It feels like I'm giving up on - on everything. On who I used to be, who I want to be. I mean, I'm so happy right now because I just got to run blindly around a dungeon. And two months ago I would have told you that I could never feel happiness in a prison, and never appreciate life without being able to see it. But now I've changed. And I can tell, and it scares me."

When she finished, she took a shaky breath. She had needed that; she wasn't even sure she had known exactly what the problem was before she had said it out loud. Tilting her head back, she bit her bottom lip. Somehow she was expecting it when his hand covered hers.

"Nothing can ruin your life unless you let it," he said quietly. "Trust me, you can get through much more than you think you can, as long as you stay strong and remember who you really are. People can try to tell you who to be, but only you get to decide for sure." As she was thinking this over, Zuko snorted softly. "Oh, if only Uncle could hear me now."

Katara felt her grin returning, and this time she let it. She laughed out loud as Zuko spoke again in a slow, breathy voice. "Nephew, you are at last so wise. Now if only you had the proper respect for the service and art of tea." Zuko's quiet laugh joined hers.

"Do you remember," she asked between giggles, "when Momo ate all those herbs he had been collecting for days?"

"And he didn't get to experiment with them in his drinks? I've never seen Uncle move so fast, even when he was leading an army. Didn't he go up the tree after Momo?" Soon they were leaning against each other, shoulder to shoulder, and laughing at memories of happy times. Katara clenched her arms around her belly, feeling tears of mirth run down her cheeks. Eventually they stopped speaking and let their laughter die down. Katara laid back, still grinning broadly, with her stomach aching from amusement.

Zuko stretched out on his back too. His hand touched hers again, but this time it was not to comfort or calm her. Katara felt her breath catch as his fingers slowly entwined with hers. They lay side by side in silence for a while. Her heart raced, but not as quickly as her thoughts.

What was happening? This was Zuko, her friend. They had seen each other at their best, and at their worst. They were like siblings. Weren't they? Surely she wasn't okay with this. But Katara wasn't uncomfortable. Her racing heartbeat did not ache with fear, but with excitement. The knot in her stomach wasn't just leftover laughter, but also anticipation. And her hand, where their fingers were intertwined, it felt right. Gently, she moved her hand, adjusting her grip so that their hands were fully clasped. Next to her, Zuko let out a shaky breath.

After a few more moments of undefined silence, he turned her hand slowly in his own. "I've been meaning to ask you," he commented, "what happened to your finger?" He rolled over and held her left hand in both of his own, tapping the pinky finger which stuck out at an odd angle.

"I broke it while I was fighting Azula," she told him, "and then I guess I healed it crooked. It doesn't hurt or anything, though."

"Can you move it the same as before?" He used his own fingers to flex hers, and Katara was startled to feel a tingle of electricity where they touched.

"Oh - yes, I think so." She pulled her hand back, flexing the pinky. "Or maybe not," she added, feeling the jerky motion it made as she bent it. She laughed wryly. "I'm really starting to doubt my ability as a healer," she joked. "Bad enough I can't fix my eyes, but broken fingers should be easy."

She felt his demeanor change. "Don't even joke about that," he told her quietly. "You can't blame yourself for any of this. None of it."

She didn't answer, but after a moment she nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak; the sudden lump in her throat threatened her with tears if she opened her mouth. Zuko's fingers meshed with hers again, and she welcomed the contact. But she jumped at an unexpected touch on her face. Gently he smoothed her hair out of her eyes, where it laid tangled from her spasms of laughter. His fingertips tucked the loose strands behind her left ear. They didn't linger on her scars or anywhere else, but she caught her breath, suddenly self-conscious. When his fingers moved to the right side of her face, where the worst scars made her skin feel tight and strange, she closed her eyes. He brushed the hair back once, twice, and then he laid his hand fully against the side of her face.

His palm covered her cheek; his pinky brushed the thickened outer edge of her eyelid, and his thumb rested behind her earlobe. She turned her face toward him, slowly. Her heartbeat seemed twice as fast as it had a moment ago. She felt his smooth palm against the rippled, thick skin of her face, and she felt suddenly ashamed.

"Katara." Her eyes opened of their own accord. "You decide your future. Remember that. Nothing can ruin your life unless you let it." The tears came then, despite her best effort to hold them in. She was crying altogether too often these days. She nodded, then, hesitantly, she rolled to her side and raised her own hand. She reached out and brushed against his shoulder. Moving her hand up, she pressed it against his face - his scar. She wasn't even sure if she was challenging him or thanking him. He stiffened for just a second, but she felt his cheek move in a slight smile. Then as though at some unspoken signal, they each gently removed their hand from the other's cheek.

"I need to use the bathroom," Katara murmured after a moment. She rose shakily from the mat and found her bearings before starting along her path to the latrine buckets near the steam pipes. When she was done, she made her way back to her mat, unsure of what to expect.

Where do we go from here? she wondered. She didn't know the right answer. All she knew was that she could feel something in her chest. Something alive and warm. It wasn't quite blooming, but it was definitely there, at least a sprout. You decide your future, she told herself. She took a deep breath.

When she returned to the mat, Zuko met her with a wary silence. She heard the mat squeak as he shifted his weight, and she sat next to him without speaking. Slowly, she moved her hand, and it landed squarely atop his by some miracle of luck. This time it was Katara who turned Zuko's hand in her own, lacing their fingers together, as she turned her face to his and smiled.