Soundtrack: My Heart is Broken – Evanescence


Steam

They clash in a collision of water and fire, steam hissing from the contact in sparks of misty grey. For a moment they are so close that he can feel her breasts brushing against him with each ragged breath, with every shared heartbeat. It is a distracting sensation, but he cannot afford to lose focus now. The Avatar is right there, completely defenceless, and Zuko is not about to let this stupid waterbender get in his way. He has to take her down, no matter what it takes.

With a growl, he breaks away from her and drops into a bending stance, counterattacking with two fireballs that she deflects with a water-shadowed sweep of her hand. A smirk curves her lips and his eyes narrow in response. It seems the little waterbender has got quite cocky now that she has found a master. Well, he'll soon wipe the smile off her face.

He lunges for her in a blur of white, fire shooting from his fists in sparks of orange, and making her duck and weave as he attacks with relentless intensity. She's on the defensive now, trying to push him back with waves and water whips, but he's found his rhythm and he refuses to be stopped. He is a force of passion and determination, and suddenly they are chest-to-chest again, more steam hissing between them as their elements clash and negate each other.

"Back off, Zuko!" she grits out between clenched teeth. "I won't let you have him!"

His eyes glitter dangerously. "We'll see about that."

In one fluid motion he slips his foot between hers and tugs hard, knocking her off balance and sending her plummeting to the ground. Her hand grasps wildly at the air, finding purchase on his jacket and, before he can react, he is tumbling down with her onto the grass in a tangle of limbs. The world seems to slow in that moment. Zuko stares down at the girl trapped beneath him, feeling her chest rise and fall, even as her heart pounds in a frenzied tattoo against his chest. He knows he is breathing just as hard, his heart beating just as fast. They are so close—too close.

Focus! his mind screams.

He should move; he should get off her, but his body refuses to obey. Instead, he finds himself brushing his fingers against her cheek in a gesture so gentle, so wrong. Her breath catches and she stares up at him through wide, blue eyes.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice is shaky, with not a trace of the arrogance that has so previously annoyed him. He swallows and shakes his head, snapping out of his trance. Time speeds back up then, even as the disorientating pulse of his blood begins to slow. He remembers why he is fighting the waterbender; why they are both on the ground, bodies pressed intimately against each other in half-restraint, half-surrender.

He remembers that he is supposed to be capturing the Avatar.

A growl escapes his throat, and he rolls off her and springs back to his feet, fire gathering at his fingertips. She pulls herself together in a flash, summoning the water around her like a shield, already preparing to counter. Their eyes meet for a brief second, both hesitant to attack after their strange moment on the grass; then his anger and desperation takes control of his blood, fuelling the fire within him, and they once again collide, elements crashing together in an explosion of colour—of flame and liquid that quickly evaporates into steam.

There is an odd kind of balance to their struggle. They are like the two koi fish, circling round and round each other, yet never quite claiming dominance. It is only when the moon reaches its peak that she is able to get him down, but even then his defeat does not last long. He just keeps on coming at her, and she just keeps matching his every attack with a watery counter of her own. It is a collision of neutralisation—a hiss of steam that whispers of shared heartbeats and fragmented breaths, of anger and desire.

It is harmony, and in that there can be no true victor. For even as he is striding off into the snow with his Avatar burden, leaving the unconscious waterbender behind, he knows that the battle is not truly over. Not yet. Somehow, the thought isn't as unpleasant as it should have been.