'We're not calling Aang,' Katara said firmly, her boots striking up an angry rhythm against the paving stones outside.

Night had fallen, bringing new shapes slyly into life thanks to the darker slant of the shadows - and the harried way people seemed to move wasn't helping this taunt new atmosphere either. They scurried like tiger-mice, keeping their eyes firmly fixed on their destinations, away from each other, and the possible glint of any knives hidden in the pockets of those who moved a little too steadily by them. Katara shook herself, letting her gaze rest on the lights that shimmered in windows and the lanterns that shone from beside the hanging tapers of the braver shops, before re-building her courage and moving firmly past their golden thrall. But she couldn't help but bristle at Zuko's continued silence.

'I said-,' she declared, spinning round fast enough to savour the look of apprehensive surprise on his face, '-that we're not calling Aang. No writing, no pleading, no awkwardness, full-stop.' She rocked back on her heels, her triumphant flush of emotion breaking down slightly as Zuko gave her a sympathetic smile.

'Awkwardness,' he repeated glumly. 'Yes, you're right about that. But we can't avoid him forever.'

Katara's arms scrambled through the air in front of her defensively, not sure what they should be doing, before her hands finally decided to settle on her hips. Feeling slightly foolish and not a little bit like Sokka, she puffed out her chest. 'I'm not avoiding him! Aang and I are still friends! We're just…going through a rough patch! It's difficult when you're dealing with an ex and have to settle into different roles and this...this is just an awkward transition! Everybody goes through it!' She stopped and glared at Zuko as a nasty thought struck her. 'Have you been reading my letters?!' she accused, wincing at the thought of what he might have made of the last one sent from Aang.

Zuko's face went very still all of a sudden. 'No,' he said roughly, his voice low and his tone hurt. 'I would never-' he cut himself off. 'That's something,' he said, in a much lighter tone, 'that my father would do. Did, in fact, do. To my mother. When he forbid her to interact with anyone from her past life in Hira'a and she tried to anyway.'

Katara halted, suddenly feeling very small and afraid. Mostly of herself and her ranting mouth.

'Zuko,' she said, immediately chastened. 'I'm sorry, I didn't think, I…' but no further excuse bubbled up on her tongue.

Zuko sighed, looking away from her. 'No,' he said softly, 'you didn't.'

Katara felt even more queasy at the way shadows seemed to race into his face at that, stealing his expression from her. A little like Koh could do.

She swallowed and stepped a little further into the light thrown out by a nearby lantern.

'Zuko,' she said again, more softly. She reached out to take his hand, one concealed in darkness as it hung limply at his side like a claw, before breathing out a mental sigh of relief when he allowed her to trace its shape with her own. 'I'm sorry. You're right about everything you didn't say. I don't want to have to deal with Aang properly or the fact that I hurt him. It was necessary, but I hate the fact that I caused him any pain at all. I guess, for the longest time I've always seen myself as his protector. It was always me who spoke to him, or drove him out of his emotional funks and helped keep his hope alive. All of us have suffered, but the suffering Aang felt, having his entire people taken from him, travelling the world and seeing how little of them and their history remains it just…when I think about it and I may have added even a little more pain to him, it feels unbearable.'

Zuko squeezed her hand, eyes swivelling round to meet her own. 'I know,' he said. 'Or I guessed at any rate. I know how protective you've always been of him. But I also know that there's no one more optimistic than Aang. No one stronger, when it comes to bouncing back. As long as you don't regret your decision; that's the main thing.'

Katara smiled. 'No,' she said. 'Not the happy parts of it; that's all on you.'

Zuko looked a little pleased at that. 'Come on,' he said, 'there's somewhere I want to show you.'

Katara tripped after him as he jogged down the street, before dragging her down another and yet another one after that. She was laughing a little by the time they entered a small courtyard that was tucked away around a fountain, and Zuko smiled at her, before dropping her hand to whirl round and point his fingers into the air. Instantly, flamed darts zipped out like arrows into the tall street lamps encircling the simple design and Katara watched them burst into life, the flames flickering for a moment as she admired the way they perched beneath their papery shields and flared out into perfect ovals of lights, much like the burnished shine of masks in a parade. Then she shivered a little, reminded of Koh once again, and wrapped an arm loosely round one of Zuko's own.

'It's a pretty little place,' she said softly. 'Perfect for a pinic. Sokka would think it quaint.'

Zuko grinned down at her. 'Not if he was with Suki.'

Katara smiled at that, hugging him tightly. 'Sure,' she said, 'I can see that happening. But I'm guessing you came here a lot when you lived in Bai Sing Sei?'

Zuko's grin turned awkward. 'No,' he said, 'just the once. I was…on a date with a girl. Jin, her name was.'

Katara dropped his arm and raised her brow. 'Smooth, Zuko,' she said, amused at the way he flinched, even if a small surge of irritation did play out across her tone. 'Inviting me for a repeat performance of a date you had with someone else!'

Zuko cringed. 'I…' he said, 'said I was from the circus and made a real fool of myself if it makes you feel any better?'

Katara's other brow raised to join her first one. 'I hope she asked for a demonstration!'

'Yeah,' he said awkwardly. 'It went…okay.'

'Really?' Katara asked scornfully. 'What did she tell you to do? Juggle?'

Zuko's flinch told her all she needed to know. And she couldn't quite help the giggle that escaped her.

'Urgh,' said Zuko. 'I thought you'd find this place pretty and that would be it. Not that I'd become a joke.'

Katara grinned, cuddling up to him again. 'Aww,' she said. 'Don't worry. I think you're cute when you're flustered.'

Zuko glared down at her, grumbling slightly under his breath. 'Great,' he muttered. And Katara grinned up at him in silent reply, before pressing herself up on her toes and drawing his face down towards hers with the simple guiding press of her palms against his cheeks. Fondly, she pressed her lips against his suddenly quiet mouth, savouring the widened eyes in front of her before she closed her own. Short and perfect, her lips still smarting from the cool air outside and the many, many 'chilblains' deserts she had devoured under the eager eyes of Iroh, she felt smoothed over, eroded slightly by the drier brush of Zuko's own.

'Okay,' said Zuko after she pulled away. 'That was better. Definitely.'

Katara laughed and was joined by the chime of another, a child's. She frowned at the thought of a child being stuck out here at this hour of night and spun round, ready to ask if they needed help getting home…and froze.

She felt the press of Zuko's fingers all too suddenly, the bite of them digging into her shoulders as they tightened and drew her back, away from the gleam of the lamps as the flames inside stretched out to become faces, no, masks. Another peal of laughed joined the first, then another, loud and hooting, like a swallow-monkey's.

Darkness poured through the eyes and mouth holes of the masks, darkness that seemed out of place against the dusty swirl of the sandy, lavender ground, darkness a shade of hue darker than the shadows that slid over the building walls outside. Each brandished an expression with cruel, thin slits for eyes, their snarling mouths curled in sadistic glee. Katara and Zuko crouched, now back to back, Katara swiftly drawing water from the fountain to surround them, while keeping enough wide spaces available between the curve of their tendrils for Zuko to pummel anything approaching them with fire. She had her pouches filled with water as usual, but it was always stupid not to take advantage of a larger source of water when it splashed ready and waiting nearby.

It was at that precise moment that a green hand, gnarled and almost bone-like, primitive in shape with the muscular tendons warped like the swirling pattern of vines, pushed itself out of the wall of water Katara had conjured forth and sprung over her like a trap. It was large, large enough to encase both her and Zuko, though it seemed quite content to leave him alone. instead it seemed all too happy to close in on her, one large finger bumping against her ribcage while another dragged up against her hair, forcing a gasp out of her. She flailed, her waterbending form quickly falling apart as her limbs were torn away from their usual movements, her wall of water shivering and shaking apart to form a large puddle over the street. There was nothing to slow them down, especially as the mask's mouths opened to issue a quivering stream of purple wasp-moths that poured forth to buffet at Zuko's robes as he struggled to reach her.

'Katara!' She heard him calling her name, and she wriggled, trying to turn and face him, but only succeeding in managing to grab hold of the sudden, desperate fear in his voice. 'No!'

Katara got one arm free and flung it blindly through the gaps of the great fingers, reaching back to him as the many tiered heads of the Mother of Faces rose from the fountain, water sloshing over its edge and pouring into the ground in violet spurts like miniature waterfalls.

'What unpleasantry,' she hissed, murmured, and cried, all at once, the sound of her multilayered voice rushing into the street. She had no eyes, no eyes to give them any kind of glance or a dispassionate gaze, but Katara could still feel something similar to it wash over her as Zuko's hand managed to tug fruitlessly at her own. 'To come to a cluttered place, a place even my wolf balks at, with no great plane to run through and no trees to offer her shade…'

Zuko's foot hit one of the great fingers, his own hand chopping down through the air as it became haloed in a writhing vortex of flames. But the Mother of Faces barely made a sound as the punch landed home, with only the smallest black charred spot appearing to dent the warped branches of her fingers as evidence of the hit. But perhaps it had done something all the same; because Katara was suddenly wretched back at an angle, her hand ripped away from Zuko's as she was pulled down towards the pavement, towards the shimmer of water that had once been her shield. She closed her eyes, bracing for the hit, only to meet a gelatinous barrier instead of stone, one that cushioned her body before giving way and letting her squish through into…

Katara opened her eyes and was confronted with the sheer lunacy of a deep ocean around her, tangles of seaweed playing across her vision as the sun drifted aimlessly above in a wan disc, far, far, far too far above. Strange crabs clacked their pincers at her menacingly as faces writhed across their backs, and before she could panic or work her way through it in order to realise that there was no cold clutch of water seizing at her lungs to drive them free of air, Zuko's fist broke through the water after her. His arm was joined by his head, and he plunged out amongst the crabs, swimming furiously as Katara heard the Mother of Faces hiss out, 'what spell did you weave over my son?'

And then panic broke into her lungs, pushed out air into her body and Katara wretched, free of the cage of a giant spirit's hand. She hurled, even though no water came spilling out of her lungs and after a few dizzying beats of her heart she finally realised that perhaps she had never been in danger of drowning in the first place.

She glanced round. The ocean was gone, Zuko was gone, and mist spilled out, covering the rip of ferns and small animals (or were they?) skittered at her feet. Katara danced back.

'Don't be afraid, Sweetie.'

Katara's heart gave another jerky thump. And then she whirled, feeling her other heart, her more metaphorical one break at the sight of her mother's smiling face.

Kya smiled, all of her perfect, untouched by the charred scars and blackened skin that had stolen her life from her all those years ago. She wasn't dressed in the heavy parka Katara had seen her in on that terrible day, but the thinner robes they wore underneath instead, allowing the full length of her hair to spill down her back rather than remain trapped under a hood or coiled up in a bun.

Katara felt a lump spring to her throat. 'Mom,' she said. 'Mom!' And then she was running, almost tripping over the things that ran helter-skelter over her feet.

Kya laughed and Katara didn't care that this was probably like the Swamp all over again, that her Mom was dead, never to laugh or tell ghost stories to a small and eager Katara ever again. All that washed away as Kya responded to her hug, her own arms far weaker than Katara remembered, but still reaching round to engulf her sobbing daughter all the same.

'I guess I don't need you to find your Dad anymore, do I? Look at everything you've managed to do after he left you and your brother…I am so proud, Katara. So, so proud.'

Katara frantically swallowed another sob.

'I'm sorry!' it burst out of her wild and free. 'Sorry that I wasn't faster, that I didn't say something, anything else other than 'I'm scared,' something that would have made him leave you alone, I'm sorry I was a coward, that…that…I'm...'

Sorry that I was born a waterbender, because that, that is why they came for us. It dried up on her tongue. Because she couldn't be, not really. No more than she could be sorry that she hurt Aang in order to be with Zuko, to make herself happy. But the guilt…it crawled up and ate her alive, even though she knew better.

'I'm not,' said Kya, and oh Tui, oh La, she sounded so real. 'You were no more a coward than I was. I wanted to run out of our home too. Besides, no eight year old should ever have to be braver than her parent. That's not the way it should work. If Yon Rha had taken you instead of me…think of how awful the world would be?'

Katara let out a shaky laugh. 'It would have been better still if you were in it,' she whispered, hungrily gazing at her mother, drinking down the blue of her eyes and the crinkle in her smile, all the ways lines littered and criss-crossed her face and made it real, better than a memory.

And then suddenly memory was all she left with as the Mother of Faces' great hand dived through the mist, wrapped itself over Kya's face, and effortlessly stripped it away with a great heave of light.

Katara shrieked, reaching out for water, any water, only, there was nothing there, not even a hint of the familiar energy she felt when she tried to bend and she remembered, abruptly, that no, Aang had told her bending wasn't possible in this place.

Kya's body, form, whatever it was, drifted away beneath the blank pane of skin where her face should have been.

'Did you know, that every face I make contains a spark of the spirit of the wearer?' the Mother of Faces questioned, her tone making it clear that she expected no real answer. 'I place a part of myself into it and so a part of every person, when they die, return to me. Not their truest essence, just a semblance of who they were, an imprint of everything they did and were, and comes to rest in me. It often gives me inspiration to create new faces for their descendants, if they helped to create or bear any.'

Katara's fist shook at her side in barely withheld fury. Blinking back tears, she glared at the Mother of Faces.

'So you're saying those words just then, those things my mother,' she stressed, 'never said…that was more than mere guesswork?'

The Mother of Faces observed her dispassionately. Without eyes, it was hard to read her expression, as the line of her mouth lay still, as though it were stuck inside a picture frame.

Katara took a breath, tears still leaking from her eyes, despite her best efforts. 'Where's Zuko?' she managed, in a weak, quivering voice. 'You didn't leave him back there, with those things, did you?'

'My servants, you mean,' the Mother of Faces said, with a slight hint of rage in her voice. 'Just because they wear their faces I gift them with on their backs instead of on their hands as your kind do, does not mean you should treat them as-'

'TREAT THEM AS WHAT?!' Katara roared out, a much stronger surge of anger tearing out of her and making her voice shrill and harsh. 'WHAT? NOTHING, NOTHING I'VE DONE COULD EVER BE AS BAD AS WHAT YOUR SON HAS DONE!'

She stopped, chest heaving. 'That's what this is about, right? Your son? I can't explain what I did to him, but the energy that was going through him, was wrong, you must have known that, all I did was smooth it out a little-'

The Mother of Faces' hand struck out again, and all the tangled twists of vines and branches that were coiled inside its gnarled shape flew loose to stretch out like multiple ropes, no, whips, that raked down across Katara's form. Letting out a cry, as the rain of blows landed thick and fast across her arm as she raised it to cover her face, Katara stumbled backwards clumsily, the animals becoming a cunning swirl of motion at her feet, beneath the mist, to trip her up.

'He stole Ursa's face!' she called out, knowing that it probably wouldn't do any good; when spirits got like this they only ever seemed to listen to Aang. Still, she was damned if she wasn't going to try. 'And he took mine!'

A tremor rang through the giant spirit at that and Mother of Faces wobbled- there was no real word for it- her form shook and blurred, seeming to become one with the mist itself for a mere moment- and then she was back, the loose whips of her former arm curving back round for a second strike. Katara tried to clamber to her feet, failed, and slipped as something that felt more pig-snake than rat-lizard wrapped round her shin, and so cowered as the dark blur of the whip sailed through the air.

And remained cowering until a thin 'snick' of sound rang out, crisp and clear and the Mother of Faces let out a bellow of rage. Katara opened her eyes.

Zuko stood in front of her, his weight braced forward and two curved, slightly crushed pieces of a crab carapace in each hand. He held them loosely, easily, as though they were the twin swords he were used to handling and Katara started as she watch blood drip down from the ends he was holding, the thin strips of tattered cloth he'd ripped from his sleeves and bound round his hands, not bearing quite as much protection from the ragged ends of the broken shell pieces as he'd perhaps hoped.

The Mother of Faces reared back, the whips loosely folding back into themselves to form her arm once more. Only, Katara realised with a sick jolt, part of her finger was missing. Her eyes scurried over the rolls of thin mist, but it was lost to sight.

'You dare lay hand on my servants!' the Mother of Faces hissed at Zuko.

'No,' he said lowly, the reply steady from his mouth, though his eyes blazed. 'No, I dared talk to them. Turns out not all of them like the faces you've put on their backs. And I'm no artist, but even I know how to blot out an eye, or turned a frowning mouth into an inky grin with tentacle-squid oil. I wonder, when was the last time you talked to them?'

Katara blinked. If there was one thing that could make Zuko mad it was someone not listening or caring about the needs of the people they were supposed to protect and rule over. His eyes darted to her, anger evident in his face and Katara pushed up a wavering arm, wincing as she felt the burn of the long red scrape that ran across it like a welt, searing cloth from her skin.

'I'm…' she began, but found herself unable to spit out the following 'I'm fine,' after it. Because she wasn't. How could she be? She groaned, pushed herself upright. 'We'll be fine,' she corrected herself after a wobbly moment. 'If Sokka can manage without his bending all his life, then it won't kill me to do without mine for now.'

Zuko's mouth twitched, anger still in his eyes. 'Sokka's trained with a weapon. You haven't. Leave this to me. Please,' he added after a thoughtful moment.

Katara wanted to protest. But she wavered, a dull throb of agony creeping up her arm. What could she do without her bending but get in the way?

'Yeah? Well…you haven't trained with 'swords' that end up cutting your hands wide open!' she hissed to him in an aside.

Zuko grimaced. 'I'll manage.'

I'll have too, was the unspoken though that lay between them.

'Besides,' he added, almost airily, and so like Aang all of a sudden, that she wanted to give him a small water-whip to the face. 'I'm not losing you again.'

And then he barrelled backward into her as the Mother of Faces flicked out a long finger at them, missing their heads by inches. The giant hand slammed down into the mist, a tsunami of the grey air gushing forth like a geyser and Katara let out a cry as she was buried beneath Zuko's body, the cold slap of air pushing at her skin, digging its claws in deep.

'He took her face!' Zuko called up at the angry spirit, dancing up at her as his crab-swords darted at her fingers, his body swirling to avoid their downward thrust. Free of his weight, Katara rolled, stomped on a squirming lizard-rat thing that tried to run over her leg and lurched herself up again.

'He took her face and you expect her to lay down and die? She did whatever she had to survive and you dare punish her when your son was the one who hurt her and my mother! I thought you prided yourself on being kind and generous!'

Katara gasped as Zuko narrowly avoided having his eyes taken out, swooping low, his sword gliding forth in a swinging arc that knobbed off another finger tip. Then up he jumped, his feet landing on the bony arch of the fingers above as his boots sunk into their darkened crevices, perched across the tip of her knuckles. And then up he ran, up her arm, launching himself up and using his makeshift sword as hooks to chip and yank his way up whenever she tried to swot or shake him off.

Katara ran up, determined to serve as a distraction, even if she knew Zuko wouldn't be happy about it. 'You said, the last time we met, that humans are ungrateful, that we take and are never satisfied! But your son was the same!'

Again, the Mother of Faces blurred and Zuko almost fell through her shifting shape, regaining his footing only as she lurched back into her solid shape less than a second later. Katara watched, her heart in her mouth as he reached her shoulder.

'Please!' she called up, dodging round the other giant arm, one that crashed down towards her, almost desperately. 'I can show you what I did, back in our world! If you have some scrap of every person who's ever died in you, if whatever you showed me of my mother was real, then you know I'm telling the truth! She'd know I was telling-'

Katara cut herself off and flung herself back as another finger rammed its way through the mist, ripping past her leg. Then the Mother of Faces screamed, in a high-pitched wail and Katara was nearly bowled over from the sound of it. She glanced up and stared. Zuko had wedged the ends of his…'swords' under the edge of the Mother of Faces's central mask and was now pressing down on the hilts, gingerly pushing more of his weight and strength behind it in a delicate balancing act that had his legs braced against the slim curve of her neck.

'Zuko,' Katara whispered, her mind full of terrible tales, of human who challenged the spirits and lost, and suffered fates worse than death as a result. Dimly, she thought of her mother, and the fear of suffering another such loss in her life, causing her feet to tear through the mist.

'NO! Zuko, stop, STOP!'

'She's pleading for you,' Zuko panted, thick and wet, all of him neatly slotted into the junction between the Mother of Faces's neck and shoulder. 'And I'm not above pleading for her and a few things more. You don't want to push me on this. Trust me. Now take us back. Now.'

Katara reached out, even if she was far away, too far away, and light was peeling off beneath the gap Zuko's swords had wedged open between bark-like skin and a pale half-mask. It was bright and green, thick jungle heat crawling off and blasting the atmosphere with something heady and pungent that made something in Katara's head roll round and scream at her to get out of there.

My mother wouldn't have, Katara thought. And so she lay her hand on the trembling one of the Mother of Faces', both of their knuckles buried deep in the fog.

'Please,' she whispered. 'Don't be like your son. If you have some part of my mother in there, with you, you know what it's like, to do the right thing. This isn't it.'

The Mother of Faces roared. Then arched up, bucking, Zuko still clinging to the corner of her mask. And Katara thought for a moment, in the midst of that bright, green light, she saw her mother, smiling back at her, warm and proud.

The mist became light. bright and warm, stretching round them. And suddenly Katara was gasping again, back in the street, the shattered remains of Jin's favourite fountain scattered around her. People were screaming, scattering out of the nearby buildings, and small as they were, a few were daring to hurl rocks at the Mother of Faces, as her strong, willowy form writhed in the sky above them.

Katara caught a glimpse of Zuko as he was finally bucked off the large shoulder, and gasped at how the colour of the sky bled right through his form as he fell. With horror, the next second, she experienced the sensation of falling more firmly into her own body, the pain of scraped shins and bruised hands blooming into her nerves. She groaned and became aware of the uncomfortable cold squish around her fingers, her eyes blinking, before her sight raced down to spy the earthly, red clothed body next to her, the warmth fading as Zuko's hand remained wrapped firmly round her own.

He had never let go. He had never let go.

Katara didn't have time to wonder if Mother of Faces had simply ripped their spirits from the bodies so they could journey to the Spirit World, or if it was a by-product of being forced through to it; she was already up on her protesting feet, thrusting Zuko's physical hand away from her own so her arm could swerve through the air and jettison a long tendril of water up to the falling spirit of her boyfriend…a spirit which then proceeded to fall straight through the liquid as though he were no more than a shadow bleeding over and through the tiles on a floor.

Katara clenched her teeth, sought out the similar push and pull of chi, and focused on that familiar spiritual network of clots and energy frissons that rang through a web. She could feel the faint, practically empty thrum of one echoed in Zuko's body beside her, but there was also a wispy form of it in the spirit above. Just enough to cause her water to glow faintly as it soared round to catch Zuko again, and quickly, she looped the end of it round Zuko's spirit as though he were now truly something physical it could touch. Thankfully, the new spiritual resonance her water held, seemed to emit enough of a presence for the properties of Zuko's spiritual form to take notice of. As though the edge of her watery whip had suddenly solidified into ice, it hooked round his waist, pulling him in close and slowing his descent. Katara frowned, lip bit and set in concentration, the ghostly blue tinge of Zuko's spirit eyes meeting her own as she gradually guided him back to his body with relief. It was strange; in the Spirit World, they had seemed as golden as ever.

It was only when all wispy trace of him was gone, sunken back into his rightful body, that she relaxed, wobbling for a few brief impactful seconds, before she collapsed at his side, relief blossoming strongly in her chest as he spat out a breath and rolled over. No blood on his hands, she noticed gratefully, suddenly realising that there was also no jagged wound running down her arm anymore, just a thread of phantom pain, like pins and needles.

'Katara,' Zuko panted out her name. 'Katara, are you alright?'

She squeezed his shoulder, smiling down at him. 'Yes: but now we've got work to do,' she breathed out.

He looked at her, then let out a small nod.

Arms hooking round each other for support, they pushed themselves up off the ground, watching the twisting roll of the Mother of Faces through the sky as rocks thudded into her form, barely glancing off the weave of her limbs. Her neck elongated, like a viper-python's, her face rose, then dipped, like the flickering flash of lanterns in the air, their pale colour unblemished and glowing wanly like the moon set in the sky above her. Her hands, more claw-like than ever before, raked through the tiles around the fountain, not stopping even as they reached the outside of the small building surrounding it, breaking through and causing even more people to spill out of windows and doors before she broke the timber of their bed frames and the bodies that rested within them. Walls creaked and shattered, rubble spilling into the street, and there was a loud, angry cry as a young girl raced out from the throng of people, and, with one impassioned fling of her arms, brought the bristled head of a broom down on the vine-like weave of the Mother's of Faces' side.

'Leave our city alone!'

Zuko tensed, and then his arms untangled from Katara's, and he was off, a spurt of fire under his feet to propel him forward, to land him with enough force into the side of the girl, rolling her down and out of the way of another claw as it defensively raked through the air she had inhabited moments before.

'Jin!' he said urgently, 'get out of here!'

Jin gaped at him, a watery sheen to her eyes. Then she shoved at his chest ineffectively as a shadow reared over her face. 'Look out!'

Zuko spun, as Katara raced forward, and with a sudden and terribly violent hiss of steam, their respective elements streaked forward to barrel into the returning claw. Zuko's fire shattered against the curve of a once-finger, while Katara's water snaked round the tight arch of a wrist, biting and slashing into the bark-like material as though she could reduced it to a stump. But vines spilled forth over the open wounds she ripped into the Spirit's flesh, grew and reformed over the charred shapes Zuko's fire put forth, growing over the holes in the body that clods of earth from the newly arrived Dai Li attempted to wreck into the sides of the Mother of Faces. It was too bad; the Dai Li style style was more effective against human-sized opponents. Though Katara did note that the vines did have to bunch and splinter, in an effort to keep pace with the ninja-like sprawl of the shadowy Dai Li figures that now crawled and flew with all the speed of a spider-fly over the spirit's form. Pests, yes, but this time worthwhile ones.

'Where's the Avatar?' someone still half-awake mumbled nearby. 'Isn't this something he should be dealing with?'

Katara felt a stab of guilt for that, and twisted the loop of her water free from the large wrist she had been attacking it with, as Zuko dragged Jin out of its path again.

'Seriously!' he was hissing at the young girl, the adrenalin wearing off her as she shook under the press of his hands on her shoulders. 'Go home! You've safer there.'

She looked at him blankly. 'You don't get it Le-I mean, your highness,' she informed him archly, and he flinched at that. In another time and place, Katara might even have found that funny. 'You were never a real refugee, or at least, not the way I was! You don't get how important, how meaningful a place like this is to someone like me! How can I abandon it, just because some other spirit decides to invade it and destroy it! Even the Fire Nation never…' and here she trailed off, guilt wrecking her expression.

But at this opened-ended sentence, Zuko did not flinch. He spun round again, this time flinging off a bolt of lightning into the wrist that was currently trying to grow over and absorb the struggling ends of Katara's water whip. The resulting force of it was enough for Katara to jerk the remnants of it free.

'Go home,' he said again gently. 'And be safe.'

He ran from her, missing the empty look on her face as she whispered, 'where?' But Katara saw it, heard it, that plaintive 'where', saw it form from the swing of Jin's opened jaw and the hushed snick of her closing mouth and felt even more guilt stir in her at the sight.

Aang's not here, she told herself. So you'll just have to make do.

'Cover me,' she hissed urgently as Zuko, as his stance fell in line with her own, trailing cracks of lighting glistening over the raised stretch of his arms. To which he gave her a firm smile.

'I always do,' he murmured, the promise evident in the fondness in his voice, and Katara relaxed, her feet spreading, palms shifting as her fingers closed. Her water raced out, became a loose, empty of coil of light, more water rushing from the broken fountain to join it and stretch out its curves. And it hung there in the air, spinning round the Mother of Faces, with a warm glow. To which the Mother of Faces screeched and tried to collide against this new light imprisoning her, to break free of its arc, until a heavy rain of lightening spat at her from Zuko, racing out into the space between her and Katara's water, and causing her to rear back in shock for moments, mere seconds…but for just enough of them to give Katara time for what she needed.

Round and round, the familiar push and push falling into her force and Katara grimaced. The chi in the Mother of Faces was terrible, all engulfing, a warm green to the tang of purple Katara had felt stir within Koh's own. And it was dizzying to try and meet and match with her own. Katara's chi was so small, so thin, so mortal. The Mother's was like an ocean in comparison, Katara could swim though it for years and never settle it. Not fully.

Still, her water glowed, strong and bright and gold and the green in the Mother of Faces' chi became less erratic, more a steady pulse of protest rather than a raging storm. And then, without warning, cracks appearing in the ruined tiles below Katara's feet and vines spilled forth, tangling over her feet, racing out over her legs. Zuko dove, fire spilling from his palms, neat, careful strokes of his fingers aiming precise knife-like strikes of heat against the places the vines joined the pavement away from Katara's body.

'Keep going,' he hissed at her. 'Don't stop.'

Katara wavered, her arms shook, the weight of the vines around her feet, though now crinkled and black pressing her stance inwards, rather than to the width she needed to be. Then Jin's hand fell on her shoulders.

'Leave us alone!' she called up at the shaking spirit above. 'This place…it's not yours! How dare you come and ruin it!'

There were a few murmurs of agreement here and there from the crowd, and Jin, eyes fierce and wild called, 'this was a peaceful, beautiful spot and how dare, HOW DARE YOU ruin it!'

How dare, how dare you ruin it…how dare, how dare you ruin it…

The echo, the refrain of Jin's words stirred round the ruined square, the sound distorted then re-emerging in the form of many voices, a chorus. The Mother of Faces twirled, her mouths opening and falling, but with no parting remark, no answering plea dropping out of them.

A bird, with peacock feathers for a tail, the head of a pig-chicken, and the stumpy wings of a goldfinch-hawk, stepped forward, its beak gleaming silver, then another one materialised by its side out of a roll of mist. Instantly, an old man in the crowd, at the sight, let out a moan and fell to his knees uttering words and names and prayers Katara had never heard before.

And a lady, far more humanoid in appearance than the Mother of Faces, but with weeds for hair beneath a lily-pad lining her scalp like an ill-made hat, shivered out of the broken fountain, her robes an Earth Kingdom green.

Jin backed away, letting out a frightened little gasp as she stepped closer into Zuko's shadow. But the woman stared at her with a set of kind eyes. 'You often stopped to gift my fountain with flowers,' she told Jin. 'I appreciated them, believe me.'

Then she looked at the Mother of Faces with a puzzled glare. 'I am so much smaller and younger than you,' she said softly. 'I am younger even, than humankind. But it was they, who built me a home, and you, Mother, who destroyed it. You did not even seek my permission before using it as a gateway.' A wry smile appeared on her blue lips. 'Who do you think you are, the Avatar? I suspect he would have had more manners than you.'

And then with a sunny smile, she raised her arms, and water, dyed a far darker shade of murky green than the wave Katara had pulled out of the fountain earlier, burst forth out of the ruined fountain that had been the former spirit's home. It stank like deep pond water, oily with the hint of freshwater fish and waterfowl, but it joined Katara's circling loop with a slick sort of ease, a powerful coil of yellow chi branching out to join the spiritual residence Katara had threaded through her bending.

'Just a loan,' the spirit informed Katara with a wink. 'I don't want you getting too greedy.'

Still, it was enough of a boost. And the Mother of Faces shuddered and held still. 'I…'she said softly, her voice ringing like an old worn bell. 'I am so tired…but my son…he returned and he needs…'

The vines from her hands, like old carapaces, like insects shedding their husks, fell off, and her fingers spread, an old mask sliding up out of the palm of her right hand, a crack zigzagging through its centre. With a chill, Katara saw that it was the last face she had seen Koh wear before he had disappeared. And with another surge of horror she witnessed the mouth moving, opening and closing with a creak threat often signed an oncoming break in a ceramic tile. 'Mother,' it mouthed emptily. 'Mother, I have come home.'

'You're his family,' Zuko said steadily, not relaxing his stance in the slightest. 'Shouldn't you be helping him rather than looking for people to blame?'

The Mother of Faces had no eyes, and so no tears could she shred. But still, there was something both imploring and miserable in the shape of her masked faces as she said, 'we have not spoken in so long…an eternity has passed and I no longer know who my son is or what shape he wishes to be. It does not feel right.'

Finally, finally, her chi eased into streaks of gold, a bubbling cauldron of molten lava and Katara relaxed, her water spiralling off into disintegrating flecks of glimmering dust.

'Don't you see?' she asked. 'This is your chance to find out, to actually talk to him. I think he's needed that for…well, the eternity you spoke of.'

Zuko's hand grasped her own and squished her fingers with a gentle strength that filled her heart with warmth.

The Mother stared at them. Truthfully Katara had no idea if Koh could recover; and honestly she didn't really care too much if he never did. But spirits had their own rules, their own standards. And without Aang here, she was hesitant to push against them, unless they were harming anyone.

'Start again,' she said, thinking of how she had dragged herself upright, the day after her mother had died and attempted to make a stew of badly burnt sea-prunes, just so she could coax her brother and father into eating, anything to keep them moving, to keep them warm and alive and not dead like mom, whom she hadn't been fast enough to save. 'Please.'

And without a nod, or acknowledgement of Katara and her words, the Mother of Faces sank back slowly, the stars and the sky blotting out the darkness that fell from her pronged head until there was nothing left of her except a memory.

The first thing that happened, were the cheers. People raising their arms and yelling, Jin squealing and hugging Zuko, before blushing furiously and then turning to shake both Katara's arms vigorously.

'You did it, you did it, you did it!'

Then, as an old man started whirling a broom above his head, almost throwing his back out as he screamed, 'go on, get outta here, wretched spirits!' Jin turned, a melancholy look dappling her face as she stared out, at the crushed stones and the largely drained whirlpool that was all that was left of her precious fountain.

'Oh,' she said, her sandals sloshing through the water as she started walking towards the former rim of the pool, allowing a hand to trail over the simple scattering of powdered bricks. 'I guess spirits don't need to clear up after themselves, huh?' She fiddled with the sleeves of her robe. 'Too bad I'm not an earthbender.'

'Don't worry,' Katara told her, bending her knees and pushing the water away from where it was lining each crevice and crack in the street. 'I know a few good ones; and I'm sure plenty of people here know a few too.' She made a face. 'Just so long as they're not the Dai Li.'

One of them, gave her cross look, nursing a slightly bloody nose and Katara winced, remembering that a few of them had actually come to help out in the fight. Still. It's not like they were particularly moral people in her opinion.

'I, um, can help you heal that you know,' she offered, raising a glowing palm.

The Dai Li agent turned away with a glower and Katara dropped her hand stung. 'Fine, suit yourself, I guess.'

Zuko was already patrolling round the outskirts of the crowds, checking to see that no one had broken anything of themselves, and Katara spared the broken fountain another sigh. If it had been made of ice, or the rising sun of tomorrow wouldn't have put too much of a melting dent in it, she would have gladly rebuilt the structure. Already though, a few people were stepping out from the crowd, their steps, maybe a little wobbly, but firm enough to start pushing rocks back into place and keep the street clear enough for people to get back to their homes. While others, those who couldn't force the way clear, were getting out brushes and pans, and sweeping aside the smaller debris they weren't in danger of crushing themselves with.

'What a night.'

Katara spun round at the sound of Iroh's voice, her shoulders sinking with relief as she saw the calm expression on his face. 'Um,' she said, eyeing the tray he held on which, perfectly balanced, were several bowls of chilblain. And behind, a few tea-shop workers carrying several trays more.

'We heard all the commotion,' Iroh stated, not seeming surprised at the way Katara practically seized the first bowl her fingers rattled against. 'And thought, maybe people could do with a treat.'

Zuko walked over, quickly, almost fitfully pushing a finger into Katara's hard-won treat and stepping away as she whirled round with a scowl, hunching over the bowl protectively. 'Don't look at me like that,' he said with a frown, after licking his finger as Katara wrinkled her nose. 'You look…'

Katara gave him an even stare.

'…fine.' He finished awkwardly.

Katara smiled grimly. She didn't feel fine. And given the way her hair kept bunching up at the back of her neck, along with several strands that had unravelled from her loopie, not to mention the few lines of frizz cluttering her eyeline…well, she was sure she was a sight, alright.

'We need to give this dessert a better name,' she remarked. 'Not chilblain, that sounds disgusting.'

Not to mention it sounded like something Sokka would come up with, she thought grimly.

But Iroh simply smiled, with only the smallest trace of disappointment in his eyes. 'What would you suggest instead, Katara?'

And Katara frowned, tilting the bowl onto one side so she could scrap up the slosh of melting liquid that was busy running down from one side of the crackly surface of the icy mound. 'Mmm…it's made from milk, right? Tastes creamy, and has a hard crunch like ice…'

Zuko gave her a funny look.

'Growing up with Sokka, you get used to getting a mouthful of ice every now and then. Especially when you're too small to fight back properly.'

He nodded, making an expression that seemed to tell her that he had no clue what she was talking about, and Katara suddenly remembered that he had grown up with Azula. Yikes. She hoped he hadn't dealt with swallowing fireballs or something. Or coal. Knowing Azula, it was probably something much worse.

'Ice-cream,' she pronounced finally.

Iroh made a face. 'I prefer chilblain…'

'Ice-cream,' Zuko repeated. 'Huh. Okay. At least you don't have the same naming sense as your brother.'

Katara frowned and hungrily swallowed down another spoonful. 'Not many people do.'

And despite the chill on her tongue, and the way the cold reached up to fiddle with her brain, to make her wince and run a glowing palm over her forehead, as Zuko shook his head at her and gave her a wry smirk ('Maybe…we should have called it chilpain.' 'Urgh.') Katara felt very, very warm at the sight of everyone coming forward, to nurse bowls of their own against the chest. The looks of marvel, of wonder, as they dipped spoons and sticks and, with one greedy guy, a rice paddle, into the bowl and let them resurface with something they'd never tasted before…

Katara felt something hot in her chest that had nothing to do with what was melting on her tongue.

'Do you think it's over?' she asked Zuko, later as they crawled under sheets that were not quite silk, kindly provided for them by his uncle in the attic of the teashop. They were Earth Kingdom green, and smelt a little oily, but Katara, remembering a childhood of burning shark-whale blubber to keep warm in the night, buried her nose in the scent, letting it blur alongside the faint aroma of Zuko and that strange spice of him she sensed when he got close enough to slip an arm around her. Like he was doing right now. It travelled over her back, clasping her hip with a secure clamp of his fingers that rested on her skin. Warm, comforting, yet somehow feeling hotter than candle-wax as they lay there, Katara stirred, fighting back the urge to tidy her hair.

'I don't think anything's over with us,' he replied after a moment. Katara could feel him weighing up his words inside his head before he said them. 'Besides, I think you'd be kinda bored if everything went…quiet all of a sudden. You always need something to do or save. It's who you are.'

Katara smashed her cheek against her hand. 'What about you?' she asked, feeling touched at his words; she chose to see them as a compliment, rather than the insinuation of her being a nosy busy-body the way she might have done if those words had come from someone she didn't know so well.

'Me?' he asked. 'Oh, I'm ready to fight. Unfortunately it seems that when you want to save something, you always need to be prepared to fight for it as well.'

Katara shoved an elbow into his side – but gently.

'Alright. Let's save the fighting for tomorrow, okay?'

Zuko snorted. 'Sure. That's if our dreams will let us be.'

Thankfully though, for that night at least, they did.