Disclaimer: [whistles]
Notes: HERE IT IS THIS CHAPTER IS LONG HOPE IT'S OKAY [throws chapter into the air and runs away]
Review replies:
Skeptical Believer: I agree. All of Ursa's potential was wasted in the comics. I appreciate the whole herbal thing, but her whole life was a love story, and I wish she wasn't made to be so shallow. To answer your question of the length of this fic: I'd say probably another 20 chapters? I haven't exactly planned that much…
Wisard: That's right! Zuko and Katara left on their own to spend a night or two in the port while waiting for word back from Sokka and Aang so they can meet somewhere and finally start their journey. Iroh and the rest of the crew are heading for Omashu. (For reasons Iroh knows. Which has to do with a certain organization.) As for Kiwea, yeah, he left Sokka and Aang on their own to find Rei, and it was basically a coincidence that Rei found him at the port he was in. Basically Kiwea's appearance reminded Rei of Katara, so Rei went a little haywire before Kiwea could calm him down… and then Kiwea realized that Rei was in "love" with Azula since she got him out of the prisons. Kiwea helping Rei on Rei's mission is only a front. He's doing it to keep Rei away from Sokka and Aang as well as to hopefully help Rei a little, because Rei's mental state isn't doing that well.
You're right about the whole Painted Lady/Blue Spirit thing being conspicuous, but because they've never actually been seen by other people as those spirits in this fic, people won't really know what to think. Also, no one will actually think they're spirits in this chapter. They learn pretty well that both of them are human. So it isn't that conspicuous. They don't necessarily know the identities of those two anyway. And as for Sokka and Suki, they will totally be a couple! I love Sukka a lot!
Seriously, though, thank you for all the question. You make me realize my writing isn't that clear, ahaha. I will go back at some point and make all of this stuff more clear and easier to read. I'm glad you're enjoying it!
Onward!
Chapter 26
They spot land in the afternoon of the next day, several hours after the midday meal.
"Do you have everything?" says Zuko as he waits in front of her room with only a small sack tossed over his shoulder and his Dao swords strapped across his chest. He's dressed in all black and his bangs are adjusted as much as possible to hang over his scar.
Katara's never had much to begin with, but she's pretty sure she has everything. A mental checklist runs through her head. My necklace. Iroh's pai sho tile. My father's chieftain heirloom. My waterskin. Most of what she'll be taking is food from the crew quarters, anyway.
"Yeah," she tells him. She looks back at the tiny room, at the window with the hole in the corner. Three years holed up in here. During those years, she'd never once thought Zuko would change his mind about his destiny. But, unbeknownst to her at the time, her presence on the ship shaped him—despite the fact that he'd never seen her during that time.
"Good. I have something that will work as paint."
"I was hoping you were just kidding about the paint," she moans. "What color?"
"Red."
"Typical."
"You already stand out with your blue eyes as it is," says Zuko. "The more red you wear, the better."
"Red things are fine. Paint is a little more weird. Why, again, do I have to put on paint?"
Zuko pulls her out of her room and shuts the door behind her. Then he leads her through the hallway as he explains. "You don't have to wear it. Only when… we're being suspicious."
"Zuko, I'm not trying to get myself killed, you know! We're already criminals and you want to make that worse?"
He frowns and takes a sidelong glance at her. "Not for very long. I just want to check the fort while we're there. There are plenty of inns none of them are that close to the fort, where all the soldiers are, so we'll just use disguises to get into the fort and back out when we're done."
"What do you need in the fort?"
"I'm going to see if they have any updates on the Earth Kingdom," says Zuko. "Ba Sing Se is still standing, but with the comet coming this summer, I doubt that'll keep up for long. We need to know what their current plan of attack is if we're going to be helping the avatar."
"Aang," corrects Katara.
"Right. Aang."
"And I need to wear paint for this?"
"If you don't want the head of the fort to report back to Zhao that the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe is running loose trying to find the avatar herself," says Zuko, "then yeah, you should wear some paint."
Katara shuts her mouth and thinks about it. It doesn't sound appealing. She likes being able to walk about as she is. "But won't people think it's weird if someone is walking around in full red paint?"
Zuko snorts. "You won't be fully covered. I have an idea for you—I was thinking about having you be the Painted Lady."
Original, thinks Katara. "I have no idea who that is," she says to Zuko honestly.
"She's a spirit. She blessed the moon and ocean spirits before they became mortal forms," says Zuko. "A lot of Fire Nation river and coastal villages pray to her."
Blessed the moon and ocean spirits, she thinks, eyes going wide. "The Fire Nation… prays to a spirit that graced Tui and La?"
"You know them?"
"I've heard of them… didn't know they became mortal, though… where are they?"
"I don't know. My uncle told me."
Katara goes silent. She likes this Painted Lady spirit… and she's—giddy?—that Zuko thinks a disguise as the Painted Lady would be nice for Katara. "I'm so ready for this," she says to him.
He snorts again, this time looking at her, amused. "That was quick."
"I get to dress up as a Fire Nation spirit that blessed the moon and ocean spirits! And we're going to go break into a Fire Nation fort." A wicked grin makes its way onto Katara's face despite herself. She's so ready. "I'm excited!"
"Maybe we should do reconnaissance more often," muses Zuko, pushing the door open to deck.
"Yes, we should!" says Katara, looking at him over her shoulder as he lets her through the threshold. Zuko, she sees, shuts the door with a crooked smile on his face and catches up with her.
"I didn't know you'd be so excited about something like this," says Zuko, and adds after a moment, "It's nice."
Then he moves along, motioning for her to follow him with a half-smile and a curl of his fingers toward the starboard side where they slowly approached land.
Afternoon comes with a barrage of activities all over the ship. Zuko, who isn't quite sure of his uncle's plan, is letting him manage everything for their departure. It includes him and Katara standing to the side, watching Ming, Maji, and Tuzen carry out Iroh's orders to the rest of the crew. It's easy for his uncle to get back into the swing of things, Zuko notices, because Iroh is light on his feet and throwing orders and suggestions in every direction.
Everyone seems happy to do as his uncle says, though. Zuko's a little surprised by this. He'd been expecting some sort of animosity, especially since many of these people weren't going back to the Fire Nation.
Zuko says this to Katara under his breath, and she replies, "They have nowhere else to go, Zuko. They're just as banished from the Fire Nation as you are because they were serving you."
He feels his stomach turn a little at this—didn't they have lives to get back to? Things that were dropped when they had to come with him?—and Katara seems to pick up on it. "Don't worry," she says, eyes softening. "Your uncle told me he made sure they had nothing to lose."
"I have a lot to thank him for," says Zuko.
Katara nods just as Ming approaches them on the port side of the deck. "We're just about to lower the anchor," she says. "Prince Zuko, we're about two miles outside Port Ozaki. You'll have to walk for a little while, but you should be there well before sundown."
"Thank you," says Zuko, feeling odd at her title. "You don't have to call me 'Prince', anymore—I've been banished a long time ago."
Ming only smiles. "And I still call your uncle 'General Iroh'. Old habits don't exactly die hard."
Zuko sheepishly closes his mouth, feeling his cheeks go pink. Ming leaves after she reminds them to make sure they have everything. When she walks away, Zuko says, "They're going to Omashu."
"I know," says Katara.
"I wish I could go with them," says Zuko. It takes a lot of effort for him to admit it. "I don't want to leave my uncle behind. A few years ago, I would have been glad to be on my own terms… but…"
"But your uncle is the only person from your family who hasn't left you," says Katara, softly and sadly.
Zuko's head turns to stare out over the water. The ship shakes as the anchor lands in the sea, dragging over the shallow depths as they approach the shore, and Zuko says, "Let's head to the boat."
The boat is a small, almost miniature version of the ship, with a small alcove made of steel in the case of untimely and poor weather. It's accessible by dropping off the side of the ship into a small depository, and that's what they do when Iroh helps them. "Be safe, my boy," says Iroh. His eyes are wet with tears. Zuko thinks of Lu Ten. "I will see you soon. Drink your tea! Master your bending!"
"Yes, Uncle," says Zuko, and he hugs Iroh with tight arms. "Thank you for everything."
He pulls away and Iroh embraces Katara, too. Katara sniffs when Iroh whispers something in her ear. "I am so proud of you," says Iroh when he moves away. "Both of you. Now go! Find the avatar and begin his training. Remember, Zuko—the comet arrives at the close of summer."
Zuko's brows crease. He doesn't like thinking about the comet. "Right."
"And Katara, my dear, remember what I told you just now!"
Curiously, Zuko glances at her, but Katara smiles and reassures his uncle. "I won't forget it!"
Then they make their way off the side of the ship into the small boat; within minutes, Zuko tosses his sack of supplies into the alcove and starts the smaller engine, watching as steam from coal he has to toss into the engine himself leave the furnace. Katara shuts the door behind her and sits down on a bench. She has no bag—she never did.
"They'll open the supply rig," says Zuko, "and we'll be lowered into the water."
Katara nods. Zuko takes a closer look at her. Her blue eyes are alight with adrenaline, her fingers are tapping over her knees with barely contained eagerness. She's excited.
"We'll grab a couple rooms at the inn just at the edge of the port," says Zuko. "I've been there before. It's a nice place. Quiet and not too many people."
"Do we have to go straight there?" says Katara. She grins at him. "I kind of want to… well, sneak around a little."
The ship shakes a little; the rig outside is opening. Their smaller boat will be pushed into the water in just a moment. "I never thought you'd be so into this. Hold onto something. We're being lowered into the water." Zuko shuts the furnace and grabs onto the railing. Katara imitates him, holding onto the bottom of the bench.
A jolt, a groan—and then the smaller boat tilts forward and Zuko rocks toward the floor of the boat at an angle until it shudders and begins to float. The rig outside opens and the afternoon sun shines into the tiny window of the alcove. Satisfied, Zuko opens the furnace door, shovels one last round of coal into it, and shuts it again. "This should be enough to get us to shore. Their ship'll be leaving now…" Zuko pauses. "Katara, what did my uncle say to you?"
Katara looks down at her hands, then back up at him. "I'd rather keep it to myself, Zuko," she says. "It's personal."
Zuko's about to feel a little hurt when he realizes it probably has something to do with her capture so many years ago—something to do with her time in the prison tower. His uncle has known her for a really, really long time. "Okay."
"I'll tell you, Zuko," says Katara. "Just not yet."
"Okay."
They reach the shore within ten minutes and leave the ship on the sand, stripping it of everything that would connect it to Zuko and his crew. It takes them two hours to walk through the woods just outside Port Ozaki, but they finally reach the edge of the port just as the bottom of the sun touches the horizon, painting the sky a glorious red.
Lucky for Katara, Zuko is extraordinary at reading maps. "It comes with the job," says Zuko dryly as he looks up from the map toward the building several dozen feet away from them. "That should be the inn. It's a good thing there aren't any posters with our faces on them around here."
They make their way inside. The innkeeper is a short, stout man with a beak for a nose and wide black eyes, making him look like a baby ostrich horse. "A room for two?" the man inquires when Zuko approaches the desk.
"Two rooms, if you can," says Katara as Zuko fishes in his sack for coins. (He has plenty—more than plenty—but he makes an awkward show of being poor about it.)
"I'll have to clean 'em up, first," says the innkeeper. "What're your names? They won't be ready 'till later, so if you come by…"
Katara groans inside her head. Meanwhile, Zuko says, "Um. Ah. I'm, ah, Lee. This is… ah…"
"Sapphire," she says automatically, before she cringes. Zuko mimics her, tensing from the corner of her eye. "But—uh, call me Saph."
"Lee and Saph," says the innkeeper, withholding a yawn and writing their names down onto some parchment. "If you kids come back in a couple hours, the rooms should be ready…"
Zuko and Katara look at each other. "Okay," says Katara finally. "That's fine."
"We'll go get something to eat," says Zuko, and he bids goodbye to the innkeeper as they leave. When they step outside, Zuko says, "Agni, I thought they'd at least have something ready. We can't go like this."
"Let's go back to the woods and get ready there," she says.
Zuko hoists the sack over his shoulder and soon, after walking into the woods for five minutes, he drops it and pulls out a wooden bowl and grinder with a smaller pack of sunfruit. "I didn't have red paint," he explains, "and I couldn't find any on the ship, so I brought some sunfruit to mash up." He grins and takes a bite out of one of them, then shows her the red flesh of the fruit under the skin as he chews.
Katara takes the bag of sunfruits and dumps them into the bowl. As she mashes the fruits (and dips her finger in to have some of its juice), Zuko pulls out a mask—it's blue and white and looks like a demon. "What's that?" she asks him as she pries the seeds from a sunfruit and starts to grind it.
"The 'Blue Spirit'," says Zuko. "I'm using the mask so the soldiers don't see my face."
So the soldiers don't see his scar, Katara notes. "Who's the 'Blue Spirit'?" she inquires interestedly, running two of her fingers into the mashed sunfruit. It's still clumpy and stringy, so she has to keep working on it.
Zuko puts the mask down on the ground and rifts through his bag some more before coming up with a simple black sleeved shirt. He unhooks his black and gold battle tunic and—Katara looks back down at the bowl in her hands with a sudden feverish warmth—strips out of it.
"A spirit that was sent by Agni to the mortal world," says Zuko. Katara sneaks a glance at him as he prepares to slide into the simpler black shirt. It's one thing sparring with him while he's not wearing a top, but it's another thing to see him change casually. Her cheeks go warm. He looks his age, now, with shorter hair; it doesn't trail down his back and make him domineering, intangible, untouchable—untouchable, La! Katara, get a hold of yourself!
She realizes he's still talking when he says something about the moon and ocean spirits. "So I guess that's why it's blue," finishes Zuko. Katara winces; she'd missed basically all of his explanation. I'll ask him again later.
"You learn all of this from your uncle?" she inquires, feeling the juice of the sunfruit with her hand, watching him slip into the black shirt. He nods, straightening himself before he pulls out a pair of pants.
Katara goes red. Suddenly, the world feels that much smaller. Ming talked about this! she rambles in her head, dizzily turning away and obsessively grinding the sunfruit in the bowl. Ming said I could be—that I might have—that I—oh, spirits!
"A-anyway," coughs Katara, "do you have something I can wear?"
A yelp. Then a stutter. "Right!" says Zuko, and there's a sound of a struggle. "Just a second—I'm, ah, just finishing up—"
When Katara finally turns around (after Zuko profusely apologizes for not remembering she's a, well, girl—and she makes such a face at him that he ends up apologizing more), he gives her a sunhat and a sash.
"The traditional Painted Lady wears a red dress," he explains. "I didn't have anything like that on the ship, and I would've made you one out of—ah, I don't know, some draperies on the ship—but I think it would've looked like pigchicken scrawl. I brought this sash to hide your casual tunic."
Katara looks down at the Fire Nation tunic she constantly wears. Technically, it's Ming's, but she's been wearing it for so long it might as well be her own. She rolls the already short sleeves up to her shoulder and unties the smaller sash from her waist before wrapping the larger, wider, more formal one around herself and tying it in the front. "How does it look?" she asks.
"Good," says Zuko. "Less casual. But…" His hand touches the brace around her upper left arm—her father's chieftain heirloom. "You should take this and your pendant off."
Katara goes quiet. "I… do I have to?" she asks. "I don't feel comfortable taking them off."
"Don't worry. It'll be safe, I promise."
"Well… okay," she says, her hand coming up to her neck. She hasn't taken them off for a long time, especially her mother's necklace. She sleeps with them on at all times; the guilt from never coming back home vanishes a little when she has parts of them with her. Her fingers trail to the back of her neck and she unlatches the pendant before holding it out to Zuko.
Instead of putting the pendant in the bag, though, Zuko latches it around his right arm before pulling his long, formfitting sleeve over it. "It'll be safer with us than in the bag," says Zuko. Wrapped around his wrist, the only part of the necklace that's visible is the light ocean blue gem sticking out from between his sleeve and the gloves he's putting on his hands. Her breath releases with relief—at least it'll be somewhere she can keep track of.
Katara unclasps the chieftain heirloom around her upper left arm and holds it up. "This?"
"Ah. Maybe you could wrap it around your leg," he says.
She does as he says and tucks her pant leg over it. Katara has to admit it doesn't feel that weird around her leg. "You're right, I wouldn't feel comfortable without these with me."
He hands her the sunhat next, explaining that the Painted Lady kept her face veiled at all times to respect the light of the moon and its reflection off the ocean in the dead of the night. "But she's Fire Nation," says Zuko, "and she's painted with Fire Nation colors." He dips two fingers into the bowl of mashed sunfruit. Then, as if in pain, he says, "Um—uh—tilt your head up?"
"I can do it," says Katara.
"You don't know the designs… I do. My uncle's taught me a lot of this." He winces. "I didn't really listen to him half the time. Lucky for me, I listened to the tale of the Painted Lady. Now tilt your head up! We don't have all night, you know."
Her stomach flutters again as Zuko's fingers trail—well, more like stumble and catch through clumps of sunfruit—over her skin. They paint awkward swirls along her cheeks and they draw lines of red down the sides of her nose. It would be rather nice if Zuko's hands were stable, but they aren't, and he goes so slowly that Katara begins to sway on her feet from keeping her knees locked. "Aren't you done yet?" she says.
"Still have to do your arms" is the muttered reply.
"Can you go any faster?"
"I'm trying to make it look real," says Zuko. He steps back to look at his handiwork. "By all means," he continues, cocking his head to the side, "if you think you can do a better job with a design you don't know, go right on ahead!"
Katara grumbles to herself before nodding assent. Zuko dips his fingers into the red sunfruit again. This time, he paints a long string of red along her left arm before mimicking the pattern on the right, and the entire thing takes ten more minutes of cursing and smudged fruit, and—of course—the peculiar need to touch Zuko's shorter hair.
Zuko steps back again when he finishes with his arms. "Anywhere else?" she asks him, looking down at her arms. They don't look that bad, she thinks, impressed.
"Yeah, your neck…"
Katara's mouth opens slightly in her incredulity. "I can do my neck."
"Tilt your head up," he says, and when she doesn't, he tilts it up for her. "Now just stay still so I don't mess up the lines." He breathes out harshly. "And, please, Katara, don't make this harder than it has to be."
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing." And he traces more arched moons against the skin of her neck. Katara tries her hardest not to breathe—which isn't that hard. She forgets to breathe. She has a very sudden need to breathe and yet, she can't, and it really doesn't feel all that bad. It feels…
"Okay, done. One last part," says Zuko, tilting her head back down and gathering more sunfruit. "Don't talk."
And then his hands trail over her lips, painting them blood red, and he's just as awkward as her, and his eyes are there and he's breathing, or trying to, and she's practically a statue, frozen as solid as the ice she can bend, and he's shaking and honestly, it isn't her fault if the design along her lips and chin is shaky as can be.
"The good thing," he manages lamely, his fingers trailing under her bottom lip and painting her small chin red, "is that the sunfruit tastes really good."
He makes the point—and his eyes bug afterward—when he sucks the remainder of the sunfruit off his fingers and steps back for the last time.
Wiping his hand dry, he sputters, "Ah, y-you—you look good!"
And he packs everything into the bag, kicks it into a bush, scratches something into a nearby tree as a landmark with one of his Dao swords, and stumbles his way into the sunset clearing, where the fort barely peeks over the tops of the trees.
The first thing Katara learns about Zuko is that he doesn't talk when he's under the mask. Maybe it's the fact that it's hard to breathe and the adrenaline only makes it harder, or maybe it's because his voice is so recognizable, but he doesn't talk under the mask of the Blue Spirit. So Katara imitates him. Besides, she thinks with a barely contained grin, this makes it all the more exciting. It's admirable, really, when partners in crime don't have to speak to get something done.
The west wall of Fort Ozaki is patrolled by two guards, both of whom thankfully cared nothing about their jobs. As Zuko had predicted earlier, though, posters of both him and Katara were plasters on the wall along with other rewards. Katara sees Zuko stiffen at the sight. She doesn't know what causes it; the sight itself, or the fact that both her and Zuko's posters say "Wanted Dead or Alive".
Zuko steps back into the woods and points to the ground before making a wave motion with his hands, mimicking the ocean. It takes her a couple seconds to realize he wants to know if there's an underground pipeline. Katara shuts her eyes and feels; not too far away is a small tunnel leading back to the port where she can feel the water flowing out of the port.
She leads Zuko toward it and once they reach the flat bars along the ground, letting them peer inside, Zuko slashes one of the end of the bars before moving it and allowing Katara to come through the new gap. When they're both in the sewer line, Zuko puts it back in place and holds his blade up to it; the bar turns red, then orange, then yellow, then white, and Katara realizes he's channeling heat through his blade to meld the bar back together.
Walking through the sewer is disgusting. Katara can't prevent small noises from escaping her as she tries to stay close to Zuko, who—somehow!—doesn't make any noise at all. Even as he's wading through the dirty water, he makes no sound.
How does he do that? thinks Katara. If only I could bend this water—but he said no bending! He does have a point, though. If she bends and someone sees her, given the circumstances and all the posters around the fort, they'll put the facts together.
Minutes later of inhaling the disgusting stench of dead, dirty water, Katara gets a little sick of it. She bends the water as little as she can from her feet and dries her pants and boots before keeping bending it away from her as she walks. Zuko's head whips at her from her side, his shoulders tensing. Katara bends the water from his own clothes and he sags in defeat.
Zuko's hand tilts the mask up a little from his face so she can barely make out his mouth. Don't bend, he mouths, before securing his mask. Katara rolls his eyes and keeps moving the water as little as she can while still keeping them from getting wet. (At least she isn't awkwardly sloshing around in the dirty water anymore—at least she's being a little quieter!)
Several minutes pass before Zuko stops and points up to the ceiling of the tunnel; Katara follows his finger and sees a warm light of a torch just above a small gridded hole. Without a word, Zuko leaps silently toward the curved wall of the tunnel and runs up all the way to the hold before catching onto one of the grids, hanging with one hand and holding the other back down to her.
Katara puts her hands on her hips. Give me a little credit. She knows how to be quiet—she's done it for three years on his ship. A second later, she's mirroring him as he hangs from the grid and the water that propelled her up there falls back to the bottom of the tunnel with only a small splash.
She smirks at him. She can't see his reaction through the mask but she hears his quiet sigh of annoyance before he heaves himself up with both hands to peer through the grid. The room above them is small and no one seems to be occupying it. Lucky for them, the grid is able to be pushed up from the floor of the room with only a little bit of pressure.
Katara lifts the dirty water from the bottom of the tunnel back up, preparing herself for the horrible smell of it, and funnels it directly toward them to push against the grid. In seconds, they fly upward into the room as the grid clangs somewhere in the corner.
"Agni," Zuko whispers through his mask. Then he tenses and quickly—and quietly—puts the grid back into its place on the floor. Below it, the dirty water continues running deep in the tunnel.
Katara bends the water out of her clothes and does the same for Zuko, but they both still smell awful. Can't be helped. She stops, though, when she bends the water out of her hair—her sunhat is gone, along with its veil, and she curses silently to herself. It's probably in the tunnel, somewhere, but she can't get it now. Thankfully she's still wearing the sunfruit "paint", which miraculously dried enough to remain sticky against her skin.
The rest of the time is spent navigating to the fort's scroll room, where communications occur between the other forts, fleets, and all the way back to the capital islands. The way there is filled with ducking past dark corners and, impressively, with Zuko doing acrobatics all over the walls and ceilings.
It's very appealing.
But it's something Katara can't think about right now, and once they get to the scroll room, she picks the lock with an ice-pick straight from her waterskin. They slip inside and let the door shut quietly just as voices fade in at the end of the hall outside.
Even though Zuko's a firebender, he doesn't light a torch or use any fire to see around. He practically lives by the moonlight filtering through the windows at the top of the room, making use of the small amount of light offered to him by Tui. Katara helps him by freezing the handles of the door closed (just in case someone decides to enter).
Zuko pulls out a scroll and waves it around in the air silently. He spreads it across a table and surveys it, his expression lost under the mask of the Blue Spirit. Then he stiffens and points toward the Earth Kingdom—toward Ba Sing Se. The city is unmistakable. Surrounded by two walls and rousing memories of smoke, dust, and flames, Katara takes a step back and whispers, "No, no… not again!"
He doesn't say anything. The Blue Spirit watches her with dark eyes and the reflection of the moon along its surface. His gloved finger trails along the outer wall of Ba Sing Se, where several markings are etched into the scroll, indicating a future attack toward the wall.
They're gonna attack again, she mouths.
Zuko tilts his head down as a yes before he rolls up the scroll and slides it back into place in a slot on the wall.
"What the—hey! The lock! There's something in it—" A voice of a guard shatters the silence right outside the scroll room and Katara almost yelps. Oh, no! I didn't put the ice-pick back! "There's someone in there! OPEN THE DOOR!" The door to the room rattles and the ice around the handles begins to crack.
Zuko grabs her wrist and forces her behind him. "Stay close," he whispers through his mask. He says nothing else and quickly draws his swords, approaching the doors. "And don't bend."
Katara glares at the back of his head and puts the water whip she'd made back into her waterskin. What use is she in this situation? At least I can save his life if he gets stabbed… oh, this is ridiculous! He can't tell me not to bend! She prepares herself to bend if she needs to.
The ice around the handles begins to crack even more, about to give way to the guards behind the door; Zuko lunges forward without warning and slashes the ice, shattering it, and uses the element of surprise as the door reveals three shocked Fire Nation colonial guards.
"Spirits?" one of them manages.
Zuko leaps over them before kicking at their feet; they stumble in shock before yelling, "SOUND THE HORNS!"
"Is that the Painted Lady—?"
"Who cares, they're INTRUDERS!"
"But they're spirits—"
"They're leaving mud tracks on the floor, dumbass!"
Before Katara knows it, a hoard of guards are chasing them out the main doors of the fort. She doesn't even have her sunhat, so she keeps her head down and hoping they don't see her eyes and recognize her face. At this point, the only thing keeping her from being recognized is the sunfruit on her face and arms. Thank La for Zuko.
Zuko pulls her violently to the side and reveals an entrance to the sewers, one that isn't gridded and is much easier to get into. Panting, Katara jumps into the tunnel, ignoring the stench of the dirty water as the soldiers crowd approach Zuko, who jumps in beside her with barely a splash. They begin to wade forward in the water as quickly as they can.
"They're in the tunnels!" yells a guard. "Tell the colonel!"
"The colonel's already dispatched men toward the town!"
Katara grabs Zuko's arm, not waiting for him to listen to their plans. "Up there," she says as quietly as she can as men start to jump into the sewer. In front of them is a tunnel that—she feels the water that moves there—becomes shallower.
Zuko looks back toward the guards, who are complaining about the stench of the water in the tunnel. A nod leaves him, then, and he lets himself be pulled by Katara into the offside tunnel. They move into it until the water only comes up to their ankles. Katara squints at the dead end of the tunnel. A ladder?
Beside her, Zuko reads her mind. He jumps onto the ladder and climbs all the way up, pushing the metal cover out of the way with a strangled noise, and extends a hand down to her once he's out.
She hurries as fast as she can as the soldiers begin to approach the tunnel. Zuko pulls her out once she's close enough to the entrance just as the light of several flame torches appear in the main tunnel. "Up there!" yell the guards. Zuko kicks the cover back into place, effectively shutting the shouts of the guards down below.
He tears off his mask and shoves his black hood back. "Town," he says, letting his mask hang from the back of his head, "now."
"Shit!" seethes Zuko under his breath. His hand latches onto Katara's wrist and pulls her flush against the wall.
"Did they see us?" she breathes, eyes flicking past him toward the flickering lantern against the stone wall. "We're at port—there are so many people around, how are they going to tell?"
Zuko pulls her further down the alley, hoping to mask them within the shadows of the narrow walls, not answering Katara and hoping to escape the dread in his stomach. The mask of the Blue Spirit hangs off the back of his neck traitorously, waiting for a flicker of light to shine upon it—and then he knows they're both done for. Katara seems to notice this, too. "Your mask!"
"I know—shit!" he repeats, barely audible, looking over his shoulder and seeing the candlelight of the lantern growing brighter as the steps of soldiers grow louder.
Without thinking twice, he grabs Katara and pushes her against the corner of the alley all the way in the back, masked by several shopkeeper's crates, hoping the men won't care to investigate. Then, risking one more look over his shoulder, he manages a rushed, "Sorry—spirits—" presses himself as close as possible against her and bowing his head into the crook of her neck to keep himself hidden.
Katara understands. "Your mask," she repeats quietly, fingers tapping along the back of his neck to grab onto his disguise. She undoes the ribbon with as little movement and sound as she can, her breath being the only motion against him other than the rapid up-and-down panting of her chest. When the ribbon's unraveled, she carefully pulls the mask away and shoves it behind her back, her breath hitching as she forces herself to push back against it to hide the evidence.
"Are you okay?" he whispers in her ear.
Katara barely nods against his shoulder.
The sound of the soldiers is as loud as ever, though Zuko knows they're trying to be discreet. He shuts his eyes and breathes out slowly through his mouth, trying to regulate his nerves, before Katara says, "You're burning me."
He immediately stops. He'd been breathing along the skin of her neck. "I'm sorry," he repeats, cursing himself inwardly. "We… we have to be quiet." His mind flies to several hours ago, when he was tracing red sunfruit on Katara's lips. What the hell is wrong with you? he shrieks inside his head. No matter how many curses he flings toward himself, he can still see the sunfruit on her lips.
She nods again and they both freeze as they hear one of the soldiers tell the others to search the nearby alleys. "Zuko," she hisses.
"I know. I can't think of anything—"
A split second passes. Soldiers are scurrying. Then—"Do you trust me?"
Zuko looks up, meeting her eyes, forehead to forehead as he hunches over her. "You know I do," he breathes, trying to stay quiet, "but what—"
She catches his mouth with her own, hands snaking up into his hair and pulling him tight against her body. Zuko's mind goes blank for a moment and he almost shoves himself away when he hears the footsteps of the soldiers approach their alley, and at that moment, he understands. Katara pulls back a hair's width, a quick last second question in her blue eyes, hands still entangled in his hair—and Zuko takes one beat to descend on her again with a hot breath on her lips.
It's all nose-bumping and teeth-clashing and awkward fumbles in an attempt to hide in the shadows. After several seconds, it's obvious Katara has no idea what she's doing other than trying to cover for them—but Zuko doesn't care, can't find it in him to care, and he tries to help her with the little experience he has. Agni, she tastes like sunfruit. With a nearly inaudible groan, he braces one hand against the wall behind her head and the other on her waist. His response grants him a slight smile against his lips as Katara's hands trail down his hair and over his cheeks, one hand curving around his scar. The coolness of her fingers seeps through the half numb, half burning skin of his ruined cheek, sparking a coiling of his cut and a rabid need in his chest.
He pulls at her lower lip with his teeth before kissing her fully once more, mouth barely open, exhaling heat onto her lips as she pushes, pulls, pushes, pulls, pushes, pulls, over and over and over. To Zuko, there aren't any more soldiers, not here—he's wanted this for so long, he's needed this—
Footsteps come closer still, halting several feet away, and there's a choke—but he and Katara pay the soldiers no mind. He releases her mouth and peppers open-mouthed kisses against her jaw, slowly moving down her neck as she tilts her head against the wall behind her with breathy, quiet gasps.
"That's fucking disgusting," says one of the soldiers as Katara barely lets out a laugh—Zuko feels her tremble through her pulse. Then the footsteps turn the other direction and they're walking away, miming gagging noises, but Zuko can't find it in himself to care.
For good measure, he hovers over her collarbone and lines smoke against her skin, feeling her shiver and run her fingers over his neck and back up into his hair before he moves back up to her mouth, breathing over her lips before he hitches one of her legs up around his waist—no, both of them, he's strong enough to hold her on his own let alone against a wall with one of his hands halfway into her tunic—and he's grinning against her lips, practically laughing with his good fortune, the coiling in his gut tightening as she runs her hands back down from his hair and over his forearms before inching under his jet-black top—
Then the silence hits them both at the same time and reality settles; Zuko carefully drops her legs back to the ground as she breaks away from him and coughs lamely to herself, straightening her tunic and grimacing as she procures his Blue Spirit mask from behind her back, where it'd been digging into her skin.
He tucks it under his arm and looks down all five inches at her, because he's still got her trapped between him and the stone wall of the alley even though there aren't any more soldiers to worry about. "You okay?" he asks, his voice cracking near the end.
"I'm alright," she replies, looking back up at him bravely. "I'm alright," she says again.
"Good," says Zuko, nodding to himself and moving back several inches. "Good. That was, um, a good idea. They didn't… recognize us." How is she so calm? He's still burning. Lamely, Zuko repeats, "It was a real good idea."
"I do tend to think of good ideas, don't I?" says Katara. "We should… we should head back to the inn."
"Right."
"And we should probably forget about this," she adds, waving her hand in the air, hair frazzled and catching in her mouth. "Whatever this was. Because, you know, we were… trying to escape crazy guards."
His heart cinches. "It doesn't help that we smell like shit. Literally."
"Yeah," she says. "So we should…"
"Forget about it, you're right," says Zuko quickly, feeling like a complete idiot. "It was just a distraction."
"Right. A distraction."
Of course. It's always too good to be true. In front of him, Katara shifts on her feet. "So, ah… let's go, then?" We have more important things to worry about.
"Your, um—" And his hand moves up to her hair, smoothing the places that had been tangled. Then he drops his hand awkwardly. "Your hair was a little…"
"Yours, too," she says, barely smiling.
He runs fingers through his hair and straightens his bangs before grinning sheepishly. "Thanks. Should we—go?"
Katara nods and he steps aside, giving her some air; the two of them, Zuko considerably more agitated than Katara, make their way back through the alley and toward the inn, taking care to avoid the soldiers who were searching for the Blue Spirit and his companion.
"Are those rooms ready?" Zuko demands the second they reach the innkeeper. Katara, who washed off all her sunfruit, straightens her tunic and unrolls her sleeves.
"I'm sorry, Mister—um—Lee," says the innkeeper apologetically. "Turns out I've only got one room left. The other has an animal problem... but it's got two beds, if that helps."
It takes all of Zuko's effort to look at Katara and to ask if that was okay. Katara doesn't even look at him—she looks right at the innkeeper and says, "We'll take it, thanks."
When she has the keys, Zuko asks her quietly, "Are you sure?"
"We need to be close to each other in case they track you down," says Katara. "And we should save your money… even if you do have a lot of it."
The room is small. What was Zuko even expecting? He lets Katara have the bed by the window, where the moon shines through and illuminates the covers with pale whites and greys ("Let her have the good bed!" repeats an Iroh-like voice in his head). He takes the other one across from the window, which is barely three feet away from the other bed. A small end table sits in between them.
Katara smooths the linens on her bed before nodding approvingly. "All right," she says. "I'm going to go wash up downstairs at the basin. I'll be back soon."
She leaves him in the room alone as he falls back against his own bed with a fwump. He's red, he knows he is, but the only light in the room is from the moon outside in the sky, so thankfully, he doesn't think Katara noticed. Still, it's embarrassing. She's clearly over it, he thinks agitatedly. So I should be over it, too! What's wrong with me?!
Downstairs, Katara leans against the basin and exhales heavily. "Spirits," she mumbles, quietly bending the water from her hands to dry her skin.
That was my first kiss, thinks Katara in a daze. She frowns a little. It was nowhere like how Ming described it! Ming had told her, back in her days "locked up" on the ship, that her first kiss would probably be disgusting and bland. (In a lower tone, Ming had also admitted that her own first kiss was exactly that: disgusting and bland.) But her kiss with Zuko—in her hurry to ward off suspicion—was hot with adrenaline and… and… need.
Katara goes warm just thinking about it. Briefly, she wonders if she was any good. She'd had no idea what she was doing, which way to move her head, how loud to breathe when he descended to her neck. She'd kissed him for safety, and at the time, she'd been trapped in the most peculiar mix of feelings, so she didn't know how to react—but it's all hitting her now. It should have been disgusting, by all accounts. Having your tongue in someone else's mouth sounds disgusting, especially in the way Ming put it. But it—it hadn't been disgusting. It had been really, really nice. And Zuko's—uh, tongue—hadn't been in her mouth very long at all! Most of it was pulling and pushing and pulling and pushing and—well, maybe that was her doing.
Ugh! Of all times to get caught up in distractions! She resolutely straightens her tunic and gives herself a once-over in the mirror in front of her. "That's right," Katara tells herself aloud. "Just walk right back in and go to sleep. That's all you have to do!"
She swivels back on her feet and walks upstairs as quickly as she can, hoping to get it over with; by the time she reaches the door, she's certain her cheeks are flaming. But it's dark out. Hopefully he won't be able to see her discomfort.
He's lying face-down on his bed when she walks in. At first, Katara thinks he's asleep, but a cursory glance over his tense shoulders tell her he's still awake.
"Zuko?" she begins, all thoughts of going straight to bed forgotten. Is he sick?
Zuko squawks, his head popping up from his pillow, looking back at her over his shoulder. "K-Katara! Um—you're finished?"
"Yeah. Are you okay? You look like you have a stomachache or something."
"I'm okay!" he says quickly. "Don't—worry about me—you just go to sleep!"
But he doesn't move. He just stares at her lamely from over his shoulder. Katara sighs to herself. If he's sick, I need to help him.
She moves closer and his eyes go round, almost popping out of his head. "Relax," she tells him, a little cross. "I'm just checking if you have a fever."
"No! No fever! I don't have a fever!"
"Zuko, what's wrong with you?" she says, dropping the hand she'd extended. "At least sit and face me properly if you have something to say."
He shakes his head vehemently, unmoving, still keeping his front against his mattress and staring at her with his elbows propping him up. "I—nothing to say, I don't have—"
"Is this about the kiss we had earlier?" she spits out, unable to hold in her feelings about it much longer. Her stomach is twisting as she thinks about it. "Was I really that bad? I tried, Zuko, but it was to keep the soldiers from being suspicious of us—you could be a little nicer about it!"
"I—what? No," says Zuko, his expression turning from hasty to bemused. "That's not what—Agni, you were fantastic—that is to say, pretty good—I mean, I don't have much to compare you with, and—was I bad? Because I thought you were—amazing—you didn't do anything wrong!"
Katara blinks. Then—
"You liked it?" she blurts.
"Of—of course I did!"
"So I was—I was good, then? I wasn't too inexperienced? It was my first one, so I—well—"
"That was your first?" says Zuko, eyes bugging.
"Well, yes, it was! Who was I supposed to go around kissing on your ship?"
Katara thinks if there'd been more light in the room, Zuko would be about as red as a sunfruit. "Um, I don't know," he says. "B-but you were really good. Really good."
She grins. It's hard not to; his boyish stuttering and disheveled short hair pull at something in her chest and she needs to smile, otherwise she'll burst. "You, too," she says. "You were really good."
"Oh. Um, thanks."
"It was a good first kiss for me," she adds.
"I'm—uh—glad it worked out for you," says Zuko. "I didn't intend on—on taking it, or something, if you were waiting for someone else—"
"I never really thought about it."
"Ah. Right."
"You did, though," says Katara, thinking of the woman on the ship the day she'd been formally released from her room after three years.
Zuko sits up suddenly—though he takes care to grab his pillow and situate it over his lap, which she finds weird—and goes, "It was a rite of passage! A coming of age! I had to—my men would've made fun of me!"
"Relax, Zuko, I'm only teasing," says Katara. "Besides, we have more important things to worry about, right?"
He watches her, eyes glittering a pale gold in the moonlight. Finally, after a moment, he exhales out a small breath and agrees. "Right. We have… a lot of important things to worry about."
Katara repeats his words inside her head for a long time as she plops onto her bed and wiggles under her covers. "I'm going to sleep," she says. "It's late. I don't know how you've stayed up for so long, considering you're a firebender."
"I was just thinking about some things," says Zuko. "But I'm going to sleep, too."
"Okay. Goodnight, Zuko."
"'Night."
A half hour later, when Zuko's breathing is finally even and deep, Katara wonders (if he felt the same way) if it would be alright for her to spoil herself. Maybe she can forget about the war and spoil herself with some romance with the boy three feet away from her. Just a little bit.
omg I hope that was a good first kiss for you? I know this chapter jumped around like CRAZY and I know this wasn't as emotional a kiss as some of you were hoping but it was filled with... hopefully... UST? The next one, the ACTUAL one that they both will do under regular conditions (whoops spoiler alert) will be a little more emotional. I hope this was okay, though. If I'm not happy with it by the time I wake up, I'll work on editing it.
Please review! Thanks for reading!