When Katara wakes to birdsong and the brightness of midday sun, she expects to find her brother, Aang, and Toph waiting for her. For several long moments, she forgets Ba Sing Se and the catacombs and the prince—the boy—who saved her. She is back on the long road across the Earth Kingdom and everything makes sense.
But when she turns her head, she finds an ostrich horse staring at her. An ostrich horse with deep green ornaments on its bridle and a Dai Li insignia on its saddle. Her eyes snap open and she sits up, a blanket falling away from her shoulders. Heart racing, she finds Zuko a few paces away, asleep in the shadows without a blanket.
She lets out a slow, shaking breath. So it was real. All of it. Azula, the catacombs, the lightning, the dungeon. And the escape. She isn't certain how much relief she should feel. She—they are free, but Zuko is with her, and a niggling corner of her mind reminds her that she would be dead were it not for his help.
She stumbles to her feet, sore in places from the uneven ground. She doesn't know where she is or remember how she got here, which can only mean that she slept through their journey. Which means that Zuko brought her all the way here—wherever here is. And that he got her settled to sleep on the ground—she catches the blanket before it lands in the dirt and frowns at it. Zuko gave her a blanket. He didn't bother with one for himself, but he gave her a blanket.
An uncomfortable feeling settles into the pit of her stomach. All her instincts tell her to run, to climb on the ostrich horse and ride as far and fast as she can away from here. That she can only trust Zuko so far, and that this is the limit. But there is a blanket in her hands, and she can still see the lightning marks on his wrists. She can't convince herself that either is meaningless.
For a long, uneasy minute, she watches him sleep. She wishes she could read his thoughts, could know his motives. She wishes she could know whether this was a mistake. But she finds no answers in his placid, sleeping face. She draws in a slow breath and throws the blanket over Zuko. She resolves not to think about it until he wakes up. They will need supplies to survive out here, and that, at least, is a problem she knows how to fix.
She rifles through the supplies tied to the saddle—another blanket, a small tent, a few Dai Li shirts—too big to fit either of them—twin swords, a knife, two canteens, and a package of grayish lumps that might be some sort of biscuits. Or rocks. It's hard to tell which. Katara makes a face at them. If they are supposed to be food, she'd rather do her own foraging.
It isn't long before she returns to their meager camp with both canteens filled and a few apple-like fruits tucked in her pockets. The ostrich horse gives a squawk of greeting, and Zuko stirs.
Katara freezes in place and clutches the canteens as she watches him sit and rub his eyes. For a moment, he appears baffled by the blanket twisted around his arm and simply stares at it. The bewilderment deepens when he meets her eyes.
"Katara?" His voice is soft and hoarse. "You're here?"
She draws a deep breath and nods. "You brought me here."
"No, I meant—" Zuko stops and shakes his head.
Katara doesn't have to hear the rest of the sentence. You're still here. You could have left, but you're here. She shifts her weight, steeling herself, and offers a strained smile.
"Where is here, anyway?"
Zuko stares for another second, then runs a hand through his hair. "I don't know. Southeast of Ba Sing Se, I think."
Katara nods. Southeast is good. Chameleon Bay is southeast of Ba Sing Se.
"So—" She falters and fidgets with the canteens. "So—what happens now?"
Zuko freezes and his brow creases. He looks down.
She can't keep the edge out of her voice. "You don't have a plan?"
He meets her eyes, scowling. "Of course I don't! Two—three days ago, I thought I was going to stay in Ba Sing Se with my uncle and work in his teashop forever. Yesterday, I thought I'd be dead before sunrise. Excuse me for not having my entire life figured out."
She is startled, and for a second, she freezes. There are still dark rings around Zuko's eyes, and he looks exhausted, frayed at the edges. Slowly, she sits across from him.
"I'm not asking you to have everything figured out." She keeps her voice soft. Now is not the time to push him, and she doesn't have the energy to fight either. "I just need to know—" she inhales, gathering her courage. "Do you want to go back? To the Fire Nation, I mean?"
Zuko deflates and his single eyebrow furrows. "I—" He shakes his head and looks away, picking at the edge of the blanket, now draped halfway across his lap. "I don't think that matters anymore."
"Why not?"
Not looking her way, he raises a hand, the web-like markings apparent even from a distance. "Because I made my choice. I didn't realize it, but—"
He swallows, and Katara wonders if the new huskiness in his voice is more emotion or exhaustion.
"But," he resumes, "I made my choice and I can't go back now." He blinks a few times, eyes still stubbornly turned away.
Katara wonders if he regrets it. If he would let the lightning hit her and join his sister if he had another chance. She doesn't ask. She isn't sure she wants to know the answer.
Her eyes are drawn to the lightning marks again. "Do you want me to take a look at that?"
His gaze goes to the vial hanging like a pendant from her neck, and her face heats.
"Not—not that." She fumbles to tuck the vial away where it belongs. "Not right now. I'm sorry. It's just—I don't think I got enough sleep to try anything like that."
His reaction isn't quite what she expects. He doesn't seem upset. Or angry. But a bit of the tension in his face drains away, and if she didn't know better, she would think that he was actually relieved beneath his carefully cultivated frown.
She doesn't dare to ask about that either.
"I meant—" She traces lines up her own arms with her fingertips. "The lightning marks."
Zuko's brow furrows again, puzzled this time. "Oh." He looks down at his hands and clears his throat. "They don't really hurt."
Katara scoots forward. "What does 'really' mean?" She grabs his hand to study the pattern etched into his skin.
He inhales sharply, and Katara frowns up at him.
"If they hurt, you have to say so."
His eyes are wider than she's ever seen them, and he shakes his head. "It's not—they don't hurt. They just—sting a bit."
"Well, then, tough guy." Katara says, still grasping his hand. "Either I can take two minutes to heal them completely or you'll just have to live with them stinging a bit until they heal on their own."
Zuko isn't lying when he tells Katara that the lightning marks don't hurt. They don't, not really. But it's easier to let her believe that he's putting on a brave face than it would be to admit that he isn't accustomed to contact. That even a slight brush against his arm feels strange and foreign and—with anyone else, even wrong. That her touch sends a small shock along the lightning's path but it's somehow anything but painful.
He grumbles and grumps, but he lets her try her hand at healing the lightning marks. He expects nothing. Burns don't just disappear, neither do scars. In the harsh light of midday, he can finally admit that. He doesn't expect any change, but he lets her try because it's easier than explaining how hopeless this is. It's easier than disappointing her.
She coats her hands in water and passes them over his hands, his wrists, his arms, his chest. He expects the stinging, the uncomfortable tingle to linger, but the marks wipe away as easily as chalk dust, taking the discomfort with them.
Katara smiles at her handiwork, and Zuko is left stunned, staring at the pale, unblemished skin. It's as though he never stepped in front of the lightning at all. Or it would be, except Katara is alive and they are miles from Ba Sing Se, fugitives from the Fire Nation.
If she can do that, he realizes with an uneasy jolt, maybe she's telling the truth about her little blue vial. Maybe she could really do it. Maybe she could wipe his scar away.
His stomach turns and he tries not to think about it.
By afternoon, after a meal of fruit and water—Katara refuses to touch the stolen Dai Li provisions—they are finally rested enough to move. Zuko doesn't feel much like travelling. He knows that they can't stay long in their little hollow at the base of the cliff, not with Azula hunting them, but he has no destination this time. He is adrift. There is nowhere left for him to go. He wishes Uncle were here with his tea and his proverbs and his advice, but Uncle is back in Ba Sing Se, probably enjoying the newfound quiet in their little apartment, playing Pai Sho and drinking exotic teas. For all Zuko knows, Uncle might not even miss him. Uncle might be glad of his absence.
Katara, though, seems to have a destination in mind. She won't tell Zuko where she is leading them, and he doesn't ask. He knows better than to expect an answer. They are enemies, he reminds himself again and again. She has no reason to trust him with her plans.
But although she hasn't invited Zuko to join her, she neither pushes him away nor tries to disappear. And with the lightning marks healed, with nothing left to leave her in his debt, he can't understand why.
Before, Katara was never in charge of the plans. That was always Sokka's job. Sokka plotted their course on a map, set schedules and rules and deadlines. Before, Katara was only ever in charge of the necessities, the food, the fire, the cleaning, the mending.
But now, she finds their direction, their schedule, their destination all in her hands. She prods Zuko for input once or twice, but he has nothing to offer, and every reminder casts a shadow over his face. So she stops asking and takes charge instead.
For the first day, they speak only when necessary. Katara cuts the Dai Li insignia off of all their supplies and turns their course toward the southeast. Southeast until they can find a map, she tells Zuko, until she can begin to plot their travel by landmarks rather than a vague inkling. She doesn't tell him about Chameleon Bay or the Water Tribe fleet stationed there. Zuko doesn't ask. And although she knows where she is going, she tries not to think beyond the next day, the next hour. She can't think about what it will mean if Zuko stays with her all the way to Chameleon Bay, to Sokka and Dad, and whatever else is left of her normal life.
But as a travelling companion, Zuko surprises her. Though he has no opinions, no suggestions to offer on the direction of their travel, he is anything but passive. With a surprisingly skillful hand, he cuts a too-large Dai Li tunic into something that hangs on her like a dress when the sash is tied and from a second, he cuts a vest for himself to cover the scorch marks on his tunic. He tends to the ostrich horse, which he names Ginseng—in his uncle's honor, he tells Katara—and keeps watch for any signs of pursuit.
That alone is more than she expects from him. He's a prince, after all. At best, she expects a Toph-like work ethic. So when she comes back from the river on their first evening, two fish in hand, she is surprised to find the tent set, Ginseng fed and tethered, and a campfire already burning. Her jaw drops, and Zuko scrambles to his feet. He mumbles the start of an explanation or an apology, but Katara cuts him off with a word of thanks and a smile. Zuko doesn't smile back, but the tension in his expression, in his limbs, eases a bit. He nods once and turns to tend the fire again.
It isn't easy, exactly. No part of travelling by ostrich horse is easy. As much as Katara is grateful for the creature's speed, there is nothing comfortable about its gait, and although their provisions are meager, there is no space to add anything more. For that alone, she misses Appa. He could carry three times as many people and enough supplies to last a month. But for the two of them, the food Katara can pull straight from the river is enough. For the two of them, the workload is manageable. They fall into a pattern, find a balance, and soon enough, it begins to feel natural.
Halfway through the second day, Katara catches Zuko talking to the ostrich horse, murmuring that she is a good girl while patting her beak. When Katara clears her throat to remind him of her presence, Zuko turns several shades of red in quick succession. It's enough to dissolve the walls keeping their conversation in check, and tentatively, they push into unfamiliar territory.
Zuko tells her about the komodo rhinos on his ship and how his uncle named them all after his favorite teas, then renamed the smallest 'Noodles' after it stole a mouthful of the old man's lunch. Katara tells him how the rivalry between Sokka and Momo has escalated from stealing each other's food to Momo stuffing rocks into Sokka's mouth. She discovers that Zuko is funny in an odd, sarcastic way, and she even catches him smiling once or twice. He has a nice smile. A very nice smile. She tries not to think about the way it makes her stomach flutter.
She tries even harder to keep from thinking about how comfortable she feels tucked against his back on the ostrich horse. They are travelling companions, nothing more.
Day by day, their companionship deepens until it begins to feel more like a partnership. Travelling with Zuko, being with Zuko is easier than she could have ever expected. Or it would be, had she ever considered the possibility of travelling with him. They help one another, they protect one another.
But day by day, it grows harder to keep from telling Zuko her plans, to reconcile the present with the future she knows is coming. Every day, Chameleon Bay grows nearer, and the little vial of Spirit Oasis water weighs heavier around her neck.
She knows the choice she'll have to make. She knows that she can't stay with Zuko forever. Her family, her friends, the war all need her. She doesn't want to leave Zuko behind. But she will not lose what she's been fighting for her entire life.
She plays with the vial and wracks her mind for another option.
Every day, he expects to wake to an empty camp, the ostrich horse and all their supplies missing along with Katara. But every morning, she is there, curled up and sleeping barely an arm's length away.
Every morning, he breathes a sigh of relief.
He doesn't expect it to last. Sooner or later, she will leave him behind. But some deep part of him, the part that still clings to hope against all reason, feels like this is right. That somehow, he has found where he belongs.
He shakes the notion out of his head. Katara's kindness is only temporary. Even though they talk, even though they grow more comfortable with one another by the day, he can't, won't delude himself about that. She'll drive him away eventually, and the best he can hope is that she waits long enough for him to find his own path first.
It isn't her fault that the idea of striking off on his own makes him more uneasy by the day. She shouldn't have to carry that burden. So he keeps quiet about it and does his share of the work—more, when he can. If he's lucky, he might buy himself another day of her company.
The full moon rises, and they sit side-by-side, watching the dying embers of their campfire.
From the corner of his eye, Zuko watches her fidget with the little blue vial hanging from her neck. She hasn't mentioned the spirit water or her offer to heal his scar in days, and he is oddly grateful for that. But the fidgeting has grown more frequent and every glimpse of it turns his stomach to uneasy knots.
"The moon is full."
He gives a small grunt of acknowledgement and pokes at the fire.
Katara pulls the string over her head and turns the vial over in her hands. "I know I should have said something sooner. I haven't forgotten." Her eyes turn up toward his, and there is a familiar tug in the center of his chest.
Agni, he needs to make that stop.
"I just—I've been thinking about it, and if I'm going to try this, I need every possible advantage. I've never used water from the Spirit Oasis before. And I've never tried to heal a scar. I don't even know if it's possible, but if it is, I need my bending to be at its strongest."
His mouth goes dry and he stares at the faintly glowing coals.
"Zuko?" Her voice is small, uncertain.
He swallows and nods. "I'm listening."
How is he supposed to do this? How is he supposed to tell her that the idea of wiping away the face he's known for three years fills him with dread? It shouldn't. He should be grateful for the chance to change things—but instead, his stomach lurches.
Her hand brushes past his shoulder and she cups his cheek, her thumb resting against the bottom of his scar. "And?"
His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. Stupid. It shouldn't be this hard. He's been talking to her, telling her the truth about a thousand different things for days now. He meets her eyes for a moment before he has to look away.
"And—I don't know."
Her thumb brushes softly, so softly against the ridged skin, and it sends small shivers through him. The way she touches his scar, the way she looks at it, tenderly, like it's somehow anything but revolting, still unnerves him.
"Okay." She turns his head her way. "Zuko, if there's something wrong, you can tell me."
He doesn't disbelieve her. He should. He knows he should. But he sees nothing but concern in her eyes.
"I—" He pauses to draw in a shaking breath. "I don't think I can do it."
Her hand remains in place, spreading a gentle warmth over his scar. "Do what?"
"Let you heal it." His eyes squeeze shut, and his jaw tightens. Stupid, stupid and cowardly. He should be grateful for the opportunity to leave this behind. He should be begging her to erase the traces of the past from his face, but he can't. He can't make himself feel anything but dread at the sight of the blue vial, at the thought of the blessed water inside it.
Her hand pulls away. "What?"
He exhales. This is the end. He can feel it. His ingratitude will be the tipping point, and she will leave him behind. But the longer he dwells on it, the more certain he becomes.
"I can't let you heal my scar."
There is a long moment of quiet and he dares to glance at her. Katara turns the vial over in her hands again.
"Why not?"
"Because." His hands clamp down on the splintery end of the log. "I can't forget what happened." He feels her gaze on him, steady as ever. "I can't pretend that I'm okay with it. I'm not. I don't know if I ever will be."
Katara lets the vial fall into her lap and her fingertips explore the upper edge of the scar this time. He should pull away, but he doesn't. It feels like a caress, and he wishes he could lean into it, could surrender to the delicate brush of her fingertips.
"If I don't have the scar," he continues, trying with all his might to keep his voice from shaking, "People will expect me to be—normal. And I'm not. I don't think I even remember how."
Her hand comes to rest against the side of his face, curling lightly around his bad eye. "Can I ask you something, Zuko?"
He shivers at the softness of her touch. He doesn't want to answer any questions, doesn't want the risk of her trying to change his mind, but the tenderness renders him unable to refuse.
He manages a nod.
Her fingers resume their exploration back toward his shriveled ear. "This is a burn scar, isn't it?"
Zuko nods again.
"Then how—" She pauses, brows drawn. "How is it so—clean? I've seen hundreds of burns and none of them look like this. The ones that are bad enough to scar are never—contained like this."
Zuko swallows. He's asked himself the same thing hundreds of times over, and though he knows the answer, it tears at his insides to admit it.
"Because—the man who gave it to me knew exactly what he was doing."
Katara looks stricken and Zuko turns his eyes away.
"I know it's stupid to keep it. I know I should want—"
He doesn't have a chance to finish before Katara stretches upward. Her lips collide a little clumsily with the lower edge of his scar. The deadened nerves come to life with the kiss.
He feels the jolt of lightning again, but this time it's soft and gentle and kind.
For a moment, he forgets how to breathe.
Katara pulls back as quickly as she leaned in and looks away, tucking a lock of hair back behind her ear. "Sorry. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking—" She stands up, starts to retreat toward the tent.
Zuko can't speak, can't form a coherent thought, much less convince his mouth to cooperate. But he doesn't want her to apologize. He doesn't want her to leave.
"Wait," he croaks, catching her hand before she can round the remains of the campfire.
Katara looks back. He isn't certain whether it's a trick of the failing light, but he thinks her cheeks have darkened. His own are ablaze, he can feel it. A string of half-formed questions races through his mind—Was that a mistake? Did you mean it? Was it just pity, or—something else? None of them survive the journey to his lips, and he stares at her, mouth slightly agape, trying desperately to find something, anything to say to her.
Anything to keep her from disappearing.
Katara's gaze turns from his eyes to his hand, clutching hers with all the strength he can muster. Too tight, he realizes. You're holding her hand too tight. He does his best to loosen his grip and his hand drops back to his side.
"Sorry." His tongue is lead in his mouth, and he is surprised that the words come out at all. "I'm sorry. I know you didn't mean to—" He can't finish the sentence.
But Katara doesn't leave. She takes a step toward him, her beautiful eyes boring straight into his core. "What didn't I mean?"
Zuko can't bring himself to say it, but his hand goes to the place where she kissed him. The sensation of her lips against his scar still lingers, and part of him hopes that he can cling to it forever.
Katara bites her lip and takes another step closer. "It wasn't a mistake, Zuko."
Her words knock the breath out of his chest, and he stares up at her. It shouldn't be possible. No one should be able to see his face with anything but revulsion. No one should be able to see him as anything more than a pathetic failure.
But somehow, Katara tips his face upward and slowly, deliberately, kisses the place where his left eyebrow used to be.
This time, Zuko doesn't quite forget how to breathe. This time, it doesn't feel quite like lightning. This time, it feels warm and sure. This time, Zuko doesn't have to check whether he's dreaming—this is real. It is sweet and soft and right. And this time, when Katara pulls back, Zuko doesn't entirely lose the ability to speak.
"I—" He clears his throat. "Thank you."
It isn't the right thing to say, he knows that, but Katara smiles. That must be good. Or at least something short of disastrous. He thinks he can see her blushing a little, and he knows very well that his own face has gone scarlet. But for once, it doesn't occur to him to pull away, to mask his feelings with a frown. For once, he doesn't try to hide them.
He finds her hand in the gathering dark and presses it. It probably isn't enough—he suspects that a hug would be more suitable—but Katara squeezes back.
Still holding his hand, she tucks the vial back into her tunic where it belongs and gives him a slight tug. "Come on, it's late. Two more days and we'll be there."
Author's Note:
I was going to put this in my notes for the last chapter, but of course I forgot. Whoops!
Anyway, I have a weird relationship with Crossroads of Destiny, and by extension, CoD canon divergence fics. I mean, I always get SO frustrated with Zuko because I just want him to be good already, but at the same time, I completely get why Zuko had to get everything he wanted in order to realize that it was wrong and that he had changed. It's beautiful and I love it, but it frustrates the heck out of me anyway. So fics that diverge at CoD are a sticky area for me. They tend to skip over a lot of crucial character development for Zuko, and as much as I love giving him more time building healthy relationships with the Gaang, I don't always find them super compelling if his choice to change sides goes too smoothly.
But give me a chance to explore ways for him to change sides more organically, and I am all over that mess. Canon!Zuko had doubts about joining Azula, he had to (he wouldn't have developed his "Azula always lies" mantra if he believed he could actually trust her), but canon!Zuko was given a choice between lofty, abstract ideals of inner peace on Iroh's side, and something that felt concrete and personal on Azula's side. When it came down to it, Zuko was just a kid who wanted to go home and although Iroh was ultimately right, he was appealing to Zuko on a level that just didn't feel personal enough. But... what if there was someone else operating on the same level as Zuko? Someone else running on emotions and deep feelings of personal loss, someone who could express (basically) the same sentiments as Iroh, but in a way that more closely matched what Zuko was actually feeling? What if someone could put the doubts that Zuko was working so hard to suppress into words?
And... yeah. It's pretty obvious where I went with that idea. Zuko doesn't immediately trust Azula, and because he hasn't taken a side, Katara doesn't have a reason to start hating Zuko again, so she's still running in her "he's really not that different than me, maybe he IS good beneath everything else" high, and that's enough to push her into a righteous rage over how Zuko was treated by his own people, his own family. And Zuko doesn't want to admit it, but... it kind of gets to him that someone who's supposed to be his sworn enemy managed to dig up the pain and doubt he's been burying for three years. It isn't quite enough to make him change sides, but it is enough to make him step in when Azula attacks Katara (protecting people is kinda his thing anyway), and... whoops. Just like that, Zuko burned all his bridges with the Fire Nation. Not exactly intentional, but the poor kid really can't turn back now.
What can I say? I love me some internal conflict, but I'm not keen on prolonged oh no, which side shall they choose? dramatics, so having Zuko sorta-kinda accidentally burn his bridges with the Fire Nation felt like the perfect solution.
Anyway. I was also going to say something like, "I borrowed some headcanons from one of my other fics, let me know if you spot them!" Then I realized that most of those borrowed ideas are from a chapter I haven't posted yet, so... RIP to that idea. It'll look like I borrowed them from here when I finally get that update posted.
PS: Zutara scar kisses are my greatest weakness, and you're welcome :)