Katara had a special routine that she held herself to for publishing days. She had always liked to make an occasion of it, even before The Burning Questions was a thing. She preferred to have the podcast uploaded the night before and ready to auto-publish so the timing stayed consistent. Besides that, she liked having the day to herself. She didn't have to think about the podcast or the political intricacies she wrapped herself into. No, she normally would sleep-in, eat a large breakfast, take a walk, maybe watch a movie or two (or three), and generally practice the ancient art of self-care.
Today was supposed to follow the same routine. After much hemming and hawing, she uploaded the content last night, and got ready for bed. She looked forward to a long night's sleep, and planned to wake up no earlier than noon.
Suki, however, had a different plan.
At 3:30 in the morning, Katara's phone rang. She blearily groped at the bedside table to try and locate the phone making a noise far too offensive for that early in the morning on Katara's beloved day off. She found the phone and turned the screen to face her to see who could possibly be demanding her attention right now. In bright white lettering she read "Suki." She sat up in her bed, and answered, "Suki, someone better be dying."
"Katara, hi! Oh, shit, did I wake you?"
"It's the middle of the night, so yeah," she responded as she leaned over to turn on the lamp next to her.
"Oh! Oh, sorry! I always forget about the time difference. I just finished listening to the podcast. I just wanted to say: wow."
Katara wiped the sleep from her eyes and was examining the residue. She paused, "You liked it? I thought that it could help his case."
"Pssh, yeah that's one way to put it," Suki chuckled.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she posed, on the defensive.
"When I heard you were going to take on this project, I didn't expect you developing a crush on the fire lord to be a part of it."
Was it just early in the morning or was Suki not making any sense? "What are you talking about? What podcast were you listening to?"
"Today's episode! You know, the one where you spent the entire time lecturing us on how Zuko is just a really great guy. When did these feelings develop? I'm offended I had to find out about this through the podcast!"
"I think you misunderstood…"
"No," She could tell Suki was smiling, "I think I understood perfectly."
"Agh, Suki! It isn't like that. We're just coworkers. Friends, maybe."
"Riggght. Just like how Sokka and I were 'just friends' in college."
Katara flopped back onto the bed, "Really, I think you just missed the point of the episode. The whole point of it is to get Kuei to back the fuck off of Zuko."
"Aww, were you jealous?" Suki teased.
"I'm being serious. Nothing is going on."
"Well, do you want there to be?"
"What? Of course not. I just… I just care about him is all. And I'm trying to help make things right."
"If that's what you say," Suki responded doubtfully.
"Suki, listen, I'm tired…"
"Alright, I'll back off. It just sounded like there was something more there. That's all."
"And I appreciate the input. Hopefully I was able to clarify things for you."
"Yeah, I believe you. But if feelings do develop, you can tell me about it. Just so you know."
"Alright sure, Suki," Katara said, itching to get off this phone call, "Thanks for the call."
"Sure! Sorry it was so late. As always, the episode was a good listen."
Katara shook her head in disbelief. "Thank you. See you later."
Katara ended the call.
She looked down at the time on her phone. 3:56 A.M. Grumbling to herself, she reset her essential oil diffuser, and turned on her sound machine (her favorite track list: calming ocean waves). She turned the light off, set her phone to Do Not Disturb, put on her sleep mask, and tried to pick up where she left off before the disruption.
She turned in the bed once, and then once more. What the hell was Suki talking about anyway? Katara's podcast was about proving that Zuko was a good and capable leader. That was it. Somehow Suki read between lines (that were not there) and concluded that Katara had secret feelings for him. Suki must have been starving for drama because that was a stretch.
Katara tried to focus on letting the waves lull her back to sleep. She wouldn't let Suki get to her like this. She was going to enjoy the rest of her night, and wake up in the morning feeling refreshed. She became aware of her breathing, trying to force herself to direct her attention away from the phone call. She simply couldn't.
Enraged, she ripped off her sleep mask and flipped back the covers of the bed. Turning off her sleep aids, she instead pulled her phone up, loaded Spotify, and hit play on her most recent episode.
She listened to the whole thing. Twice. The finishing lines of the podcast played back to her over her phone.
Zuko is brave. He's brave, sympathetic, and it hurts me to see him feeling so helpless and alone.
She listened to the end of the podcast, even through all of the outro music, until the room was silent once more.
She clicked her phone off, and laid back in bed. She couldn't deny that she had admitted feelings for the fire lord in the last episode, but it was still a jump to say that those feelings were romantic. She and Zuko got along well, certainly. They had become friends and were comfortable talking to each other on and off the record.
Deep down, Katara would have to admit that she had at least thought about it before. It was hard not to when there were plenty of online "shippers" who made their opinions known. In these moments, Katara couldn't help but think about how she and Zuko shared many of the same interests. These thoughts, when they bubbled up, were always abstract ideas that Katara assumed would never come to fruition. And it was best that they didn't. This was a job. She had to remind herself of that. Katara prided herself on being a professional, and the last thing she wanted to do is let her own juvenile crush get in her way.
She hadn't let things get too out of control yet, thankfully. She hadn't admitted anything significant to anyone. There was plenty of room for plausible deniability with that last podcast.
She wrote it with the intention of helping him, nothing more, nothing less. She didn't do anything wrong there.
More importantly, Zuko would never listen to the podcast anyway. He wouldn't have any reason to suspect that anything between them had changed. In his eyes, it was business as usual. And even if Zuko did know, there was no promise of reciprocation. She didn't know if the fire lord was looking for something like that, and even if he was, there wasn't any guarantee that he would find what he was looking for in her.
She felt better knowing that she had these safeguards in place, preventing this from becoming inappropriate. She had stumbled, and maybe let herself become too comfortable with Zuko, but she would do better from here. She drew the line at friendship and would easily quit before she let it budge anywhere past that.
Sunlight streamed through the curtains. Sleep evaded her and she admitted defeat, getting up and putting her robe on. She would get breakfast and spend the rest of her day planning how best to regain control of her situation.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"…with the aid amount we discussed from our treasury, I estimate that the chief could fund a public clinic and make long overdue repairs to the city's infrastructure," Zuko referenced the papers in front of him.
"That's very brave and sympathetic of you," said Jian, smirking at him over the rim of her glasses.
Zuko didn't particularly like working with his council on a good day. Jian was irreverent, and always managed to prod at his deepest insecurities. Renshu typically spoke as little as possible, allowing his silent-but-still-obvious indignation to do the talking for him. Yat-Sen had a tendency to mistake him for his father during his senior moments, or else showed some awareness that Zuko wasn't his father and loudly complained about it. Hansuke… well, it was probably for the best that there was now an empty chair where Minister Hansuke's unhelpful presence used to be.
But at least he usually understood what his council was talking about. They might be obstinate, they might undermine his efforts wherever they could, they might show little or no respect for him as a leader, but normally Zuko could at least follow the conversation. Today, however, he couldn't even say that much.
He sighed in exasperation. He allowed the papers to fall to his desk in a disorganized heap and fixed his eyes on Jian.
"What is that even supposed to mean?"
To his frustration, Renshu giggled. Renshu! Giggled! Had he woken up in a parallel universe? Had he hit his head and forgotten about it? What was going on?
"My Lord, I'm really glad you found it in your heart to do this," Renshu said, with what appeared to be sincerity. Zuko didn't trust it one bit.
"A real leap of faith, you know?" Jian added before Zuko could interject. He was occupied glancing back and forth between them, searching for any clues their faces might betray. They were both maddeningly unreadable.
Beside him, Tomlin frowned.
"You guys, he doesn't even know what you're talking about," Tomlin admonished.
"Know about what?" Zuko demanded. He was ignored.
"Well of course he doesn't. He's human and fallible, after all," Jian taunted.
"We're just commending him for trusting his instincts! He shouldn't be punished for that," Renshu snickered.
What in the world? Clearly something happened, something that nobody bothered to brief Zuko on. Why were they all talking like that? It sounded like they were reading off some nightmarish script they'd concocted just to torment him.
"He seriously doesn't know, does he?" Jian scanned the room, bewildered, but her cheeky grin hadn't faded.
"He doesn't listen to it. He told me," Tomlin countered.
"Listen to what?" Zuko huffed. Predictably, no one cared.
"How could he not listen to it? It's about him!" Renshu pressed.
"I don't know, he just doesn't!" Tomlin shrieked.
"As your fire lord, I demand that someone tell me what's going on! That's an order!" Zuko boomed over the chatter. Enough was enough.
He'd successfully silenced their bickering, but still no one offered an explanation. Finally Jian stood from her seat at the table.
"My Lord, would you follow me to my office?"
Zuko did. He felt a bit like he was still being ordered around by the very people he was supposed to command, but he wanted answers more desperately than he wanted to preserve his dignity. It's not like his council ever respected him in the first place.
He stepped into Jian's messy office, shoved a pile of junk off of a nearby chair and onto the floor, took a seat, and waited.
"I take it you haven't heard Katara's latest episode?"
Of course. What Tomlin had said. He doesn't listen to it. He told me. Zuko should've known.
"No," Zuko crossed his arms. "And I don't want to. I promised Katara I wouldn't."
As Jian booted up her computer, she took a moment to give Zuko a perplexed glance.
"Why? I thought she'd want—"
Zuko didn't feel like explaining the tension he and Katara initially experienced. It wasn't any of Jian's business anyway.
"She doesn't, okay?"
Jian had swiveled her chair away from him. He peered over her shoulder at the screen. She was scrolling through the EKPR website. When she found what she was looking for, she plugged in her headphones and held them out to Zuko.
Zuko was aghast. "No! She doesn't want me to listen to it. It would be a violation of her trust!"
"Yeah, you said that, but what I still don't get is why—"
"It's about freedom of speech. She should be able to say whatever she wants to say about me without concerning herself with my reaction."
Jian blinked at him. Eventually she turned back to the screen in front of her.
"Freedom of speech," she muttered. "Those Earth Kingdom people have really done a number on you. Fine, don't listen to it if you don't want to. I just thought you'd want to know what everyone's talking about."
And that was the tricky part. Zuko did want to know what everyone was talking about. He wanted it dearly. This was far from the first episode, so whatever happened most recently must've been big if it generated all this gossip.
"Is it…?" Zuko ventured. He wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to ask. "I mean… just tell me. Give me a summary of the important parts."
Jian's infuriating smirk had made a reappearance.
"I can't. Won't do it justice."
"But—"
"You either listen for yourself, or you stay in the dark. Your choice." She dangled the headphones tantalizingly close.
Somewhat disgusted with himself, Zuko accepted. He popped in the earbuds and situated himself at Jian's desk. It was against his better judgment, without question, but he was just so curious.
"You're not to breathe a word of this to anyone," he snapped. Jian only smiled. She took the liberty of pressing 'play' for him.
Zuko wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it was enough for Jian to sit on her desk so that she could better watch Zuko's face while he listened, grow bored of that, leave her office altogether, return, brew some tea with an electric kettle she kept dangerously close to a stack of paperwork (that was more than likely a fire hazard), and leave again. More importantly, it was enough time for Zuko's entire outlook to change.
Katara thought he was a good person.
He was realizing that he never knew what Katara thought of him, not until now, anyway. He might've taken a guess based on how she interacted with him, but he didn't exactly have a lot of experience reading people, and furthermore, Katara had every reason to treat the foreign dictator in whose palace she was living with a careful sort of politeness.
If Zuko was being honest with himself, he'd admit that Katara was growing on him. Their sessions hadn't felt like work in a long time, even when they strayed into difficult topics. He liked her. And he was pleased to learn that she liked him too.
How many people get an opportunity like this? Social interactions are hard. People are unpredictable. Surely tons of people have wished for an opportunity like this, for a confirmation that someone they liked indeed returned the sentiment, the information sourced through a strange third party conduit that meant they could avoid confronting each other about it. In Zuko's case, that third party conduit was The Burning Questions. He was flattered. Really, he was. Katara thought he was a good person, brave and sympathetic. He tried not to let his guilt over listening to the podcast taint his elation.
How could he face her after this? He knew things he shouldn't. He knew her private feelings. Well, not private, exactly. She had broadcast them on her podcast for the entire Earth Kingdom to hear. But they were meant to be private from him. Zuko wondered if she even fully understood what she'd done. By the end of the podcast, she sounded less in control of what she was saying. It seemed she'd gone off-script and started speaking from the heart. She'd made vulnerable her innermost feelings. It was all there, if you listened around the political jargon.
Moreover, her feelings concerned him specifically. Even if he put aside his guilt, how could he not act giddy next time he saw her? How could he resist trying to push their friendship even further, knowing full well she'd be amenable to it? He felt like he'd gained a superpower. It was both terrifying and electrifying. He could do anything, including hurt her without intending it. This truly was the best, worst news.
"Well?" Inquired Jian, who was suddenly leaning against the doorframe.
Zuko removed the headphones.
"This… changes things."
