Zutara feels. It's here. Also, I love quick updates. My muse is on overdrive with this story. Others, not so much.

Not much to say here, except, read, review, and enjoy!

Chapter 17

Katara's hands glowed blue when she brought it to the large, blue bruise that covered Zuko's jaw. She made the water seep into his pores, her own jaw trembling, with tears streaming down her face. She could still feel Jet's hands on her ass, his taste in her mouth. Sobbing, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve, gagging as she recalled his tongue pushing down her throat.

"Zuko," she whispered, unaware that she was doing it.

But it wasn't the disgust that was making her cry. Jet wasn't the first person that had forced a kiss on her. Aang had done it too. All the two had managed to do was anger her. The tears in her eyes were of a different origin. The terror she had felt at the thought that Zuko was dead still sat cold and heavy on her heart. The image of him curled into a ball as the men rained kicks and blows on him had burned itself in her retinas, refusing to leave.

The bruise healed, Katara moved to his forehead where a gash was crusted with dirt and dried blood. She made quick work of patching the skin and cleaning the grime. From there, her hand moved to the burn that dominated half his face. The skin under her fingers was soft, almost leathery to touch. Very unlike human skin. As a healer, she knew that this was a deep burn, one that had charred his eyebrow off to the point that it no longer grew. But his eye was undamaged. The scar went on to cover his temple, part of his cheek, his ear, and a bit of the skin behind it. Her report had simply mentioned that he had a burn that covered the left side of his face. There was no mention of how he had got it. Now that she was looking at it closely, she realized that something about the scar felt wrong. The healer in her had a terrible thought. An instinct born out of knowing injuries.

"No, it can't be," she whispered, trying to deny her intuition. But the feeling nagged. She licked her lips and traced his injury with her finger. She had to check. She had to know. Swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth, Katara lay her wrist at the bridge of his nose, and let her hand cover the burn, with her fingers touching his ear. Just as she had expected, but hoped it wouldn't, her hand almost entirely covered the expanse of his injury, with just some burned skin peeking out from the edges. With a gasp, she stumbled backwards as her worst suspicion was confirmed. This was done to him. Some Fire Bender, with a hand larger than hers, had covered their entire palm with flame and had held it over his face. She gagged as bile rose in her throat. Fourteen. He had been fourteen.

Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "Oh my God! Zuko."

She scooted close to him, running a hand through his hair. Silky, soft, and smooth. "You've had a very hard life, haven't you?"

Of course, he didn't answer, since he was unconscious. Slowly, as though driven by a force she didn't know, Katara leaned down and placed a tender kiss on his burn. At the contact, he gave a slight moan and Katara stilled. When he didn't move, she released the breath she was holding and gave in to the one temptation she had been nursing since the tunnels. She ran her hand along his cheek, his stubble drawing her in ways she couldn't explain. He wasn't the first man she had seen with a stubble. But something about the it was attracting her.

Whom am I kidding? Everything about him is attracting me.

"Katara! Stop! You have to heal him."

Giving herself a shake, she unbuttoned his shirt. The sight that met her eyes made her gasp again. His entire torso was covered in large bruises. Summoning her element to her hand, she began to heal him, starting from his shoulders. Slowly, steadily she began to make her way down till she reached the largest bruise on his chest. A patch of black, blue and purple with spots of red. Putting her hand over it, she let the water seep into him, and she winced. Under her hand were two broken ribs and a few bruised ones. Katara focused on healing the broken ones first, since they took most time and energy. Fifteen minutes of sitting still, working with her water, she felt the bones mesh together, as an almost imperceptible tremor went through him. Sighing, Katara pulled the water out, and discarded it. Pulling another lot, she applied the water to another set of bruises. Gradually she was worked her way through his injuries, till such time she was done with his chest. His back was wounded too, but with her own injury in the shoulder, she didn't think she could turn him around. They would have to wait. Which meant she would now have to move to his legs.

"Well, now I know how you felt," Katara said.

She undid the tie on his pants. She hooked her thumbs on his waistline and was about to pull it down when suddenly Zuko's voice reached her, "If you want to see me naked, just say so."

With a start, Katara looked up to find Zuko lying with his eyes closed but a small smile played on his lips. Anger, relief, annoyance, and something else stirred in her. She suspended the water from one hand in mid-air and swatted his chest.

"Ow, Katara," he opened his eyes, and chuckled. "I'm already injured. How is that helping?"

"You have a sick sense of humor, you know that?"

"You know, I have never been accused of having a humor, sick or otherwise."

Katara shook her head, focusing on healing a bruise she spotted at his waist, "You do have a sense of humor. Just a dry, and situational one. A sarcastic one. I think you're probably bad at telling jokes."

"Bingo. I mess it up big time." Upon noticing that he was trying to sit up, Katara reached up to him to support him up but he reared back, "What do you think are you doing?"

"Helping you up?"

"You are still hurt," he said a little sharply. "Don't do anything that would reopen your wound."

"Zuko, you're more injured than I am."

"I have had worse," he snapped back. "I can get up on my own." As if to prove his point, he pushed himself up, wincing slightly.

"You've had worse?" Katara said, her eyebrows threatening to disappear into her hairline. "Really?"

"Yes," but refused to elaborate further. His eyes found her face and he frowned. "You were crying?"

She shook her head and changed the topic, "When did you wake up?"

He blinked a couple of times, opened and closed his mouth once before saying, "Sometime while you were healing me."

She nodded, hoping he had not felt the peck she had given on his burn.

"Why were you pulling my pants anyway?"

Katara felt a blush creep up her cheeks and said, "Umm, your legs. I was going to heal them."

He nodded and said, "It's not too bad there. Most are on the torso."

"I wasn't able to get to your back," Katara said, forcing a more professional tone. "May I?"

He nodded, dropped his shirt from the shoulders, and turned around to give her full access to his back. Katara gloved her hands anew and winced at the sight that met her. His back was splotched with large bruises that had taken on a black, blue, and purple hues. "That looks bad, Zuko."

He grunted, "They had fun."

She nodded and began her work. After a brief moment of silence, she said in a low voice, "I thought you were dead."

"Was that why you were crying?" he asked in a soft voice.

Katara didn't answer. How could she tell him how scared she was? How it broke her to see him unmoving? No, she couldn't. Instead, she let her silence do the talking.

"I'm sorry," he said in the gentle tone that he used to talk to her sometimes. The one that did things to her. "I didn't mean to scare you."

At his words, a lone tear broke through her eye and Katara wiped it off. The bruise she had been working on began to turn lighter under her ministrations. No, she was not going to break. Not in front of him. Instead of his words, she turned her focus on the small red birthmark on his spine.

"I was ten months old when I fell sick," he said suddenly. "No one knew why I fell sick or what happened to me. People didn't think I would make it. But I did. I came out of it. It did impact my Fire Bending, though. I was such a late bloomer, people actually thought I would be a non-bender."

"Weak?" Katara said incredulously as she moved lower down to his waist. "I've sparred with you. I know you're not weak. And what do you mean late bloomer? How old were you?"

"Five."

"What?" Surprise made her sound squeaky. "Most kids show their bending at four or five. When you said late bloomer, I thought it was eight or something. I showed my bending at five too."

"My sister showed it before she was three," he said with a hint of bitterness in his voice. "My father would keep harping about how I wasn't good enough… Anyway, that was not what I was telling this story for. Reason I brought this up is, I have had near-death experiences since infancy. It'll take more than a few kicks and punches to kill me."

What? Katara instantly saw red. With a jerk, she shot to her feet and marched around him to tower over him.

"Shut up. Just shut up, okay? How can you be so cavalier about what happened? Do you know how scared I was? Do you have any idea what it was like seeing them attacking you? Do you even know what I had to… You…"

Frustrated, she splashed water on his face and turned away. She trembled down to her feet as her throat constricted painfully. Katara hid her face in her hands as the jumble of emotions she was feeling began to crush her. Fear, relief, disgust, confusion, exhaustion, pain – all washed over her, and she began to sob. Suddenly, his warm arms went around her, and he lay his head on her uninjured shoulder. For some reason, she felt as though they had done this a million times before. In what felt like the most natural move for her, she leaned against his chest and lay her head on his and hugged his arms.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't trying to make light of the situation. But I… Sorry. I didn't realize how much it scared you."

"How do you not realize it?" Katara asked, her voice breaking. "I saw you getting beaten up mercilessly. You're in pain, Zuko! Acknowledge that! Don't dismiss the whole thing as nothing. I… I… It was terrible. How can you not realize…," her words faltered as she broke down.

He turned her around and pulled her against his chest, running his fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry. You're right. What happened is not small. Yes, I am in pain. It's just that… I am not used to having people care for me. In any way. I don't know how to handle this."

Katara pulled back and looked at him. Just how much pain has this man taken? All her life, all she had done was care for people. After her mother had died, she had taken the role for Sokka. Later, when Aang had come to live in the South Pole, she had taken up the place of a mother or older sister for him. But at that moment, she realized that if she were to try and mother Zuko, he would run away. She needed to tell him that she cared, but without making it too obvious or she would be blocked. She took a deep breath and cupped his cheek on the scarred side, choosing her words carefully. "No one? What about your mother?"

"I was too young," he replied, his face darkening.

"Well, as long as I'm here with you, I will care. That's what I do. I care about people. You'll just have to deal with it."

He gave a snort, "Yes, Ma'am."

She wiped her tears, sniffled, and said, "Your legs? No injury?"

The dark clouds over his face dissipated and he gave a small smile, "No. Just some bruises."

"Want me to heal them?"

"Sure," he said with a shrug.

Something was happening to him. A rush of tenderness coupled with a joy unlike anything he had ever felt before, was coursing through him. Katara was working on his ankles, where the stone cuff had dug in, chafing the skin. Instead of taking them off, he had pulled his pants up to his knees, allowing her to work. His eyes were fixed on Katara. A strand of her hair was tumbling down her face, her brows were furrowed in concentration and her lips set into a tight line. At that moment, all Zuko wanted to do was hold her to him, and just keep her there. Someone had shed tears for him? Him? How? All his life, he had heard that he was a failure. Not good enough. He was lucky to be born. He was worthless. That he should just die.

But here was someone who was pained to the point of tears, simply because he was hurt? How was that possible? How did one react to that? He had not told her, but he had woken up to her covering his burn with her hand. In that instant, he knew that she understood. He wondered how would she react? Pity? Disgust? Fear? Pleasure? He had seen all of that. He had seen indifference too, as a matter of fact. From his own girlfriend, no less.

It's just a scar, Zuko. What's the big deal?

Mai. The mere thought of her brought a mixture of rage and guilt within Zuko. He had never quite forgiven her for that callous remark. Not only had she shut his pain out, she had downright negated it. Refused to acknowledge his agony as real and had trivialized what had been a life changing moment for him. Even then, he should not have done what he had. Even in retaliation, it had been a terrible thing to do. One of his worst actions, in a series of bad ones. She may have delivered a telling blow to their relationship, but he had been the one to kill it with that one act.

For Zuko, his scar had become the determining factor. The person's reaction to his scar was the way he determined how close he would let them get. Back at the camp, Katara had shown no reaction whatsoever. An action that had piqued his interest. Now that Katara was the first person who had figured out, on her own, what had been done to him, Zuko was certain he would see pity. He had seen enough of it to last him a lifetime and had no desire to see it again. Which was why he had kept his eyes shut.

To his intense surprise, however, she had cried. For him. No one, not even his Uncle, had cried for him. Ever. His uncle had been very angry on his behalf, yes. But he had not shed a tear for him. That had been Katara, and Zuko did not know what to do. How to react.

Then, confusing him even further, she had leaned over and kissed his scar. Other than his healer, Matsu, no one had ever touched his scar. And this woman, the one who was shedding the tears he had refused to shed all his life, had just kissed him. On the scar. The one that repulsed people. She had just kissed that. How was he even supposed to react to that? Overwhelmed by act, he had been unable to stop the gasp from escaping his lips. At the last second though, he had managed to change it to a moan.

You've had a very hard life, haven't you?

The words hit him harder than he had been prepared for. It had taken every ounce of his energy to not pull her into his arms. He yearned to hold her and keep her next to him. At that moment, he acknowledged that he was insanely attracted to this woman. In a way he had never been to anyone before. Even his five-year-long relationship with Mai had not evoked emotions as strong as the ones she had brought forth with just one act.

When had this happened, though? Was it when she refused to bow down to him back in the camp? Or when she had sparred with him? Or was it when she had faced his test unflinchingly? Perhaps it was in the tunnels, when he learned how tough she was. Was it when he had changed her clothes, realizing just how alluring she was? Or maybe it was when she had faced and defeated Jet with a few well-placed words? He didn't know. Nor did he particularly care. All he knew was that she was fast becoming his need. A desire unlike any he had ever knew. He wanted her. Desperately. So much so that the intensity of his need scared him.

When Katara had moved to heal his broken ribs, Zuko had almost given up on the act of remaining unconscious. Agni, that hurt. Zuko held his breath, and bit on his tongue to keep himself from screaming, unable to stop himself from trembling. Part of him did wonder why he was keeping up the pretense of being unconscious, but deep down he knew why. He was scared. The maddening desire he felt would be laid bare for her to see. And that thought terrified him. He would much rather endure the pain of broken ribs than let her see him like that. His resolve, however, was soon brought to test when Katara hooked her thumb on the waistband of his pants.

Oh no.

If she did that, he would lose the tenuous control he had on himself. He would take her, then and there. It was time to intervene. His somewhat risqué joke was met, rather appropriately, with a swat on his chest. He had genuinely enjoyed the conversation that had followed. Until, he had made her cry that is. Seeing her cry because of the words he had uttered had made him feel wretched. Even more than he had felt when he had broken Mai's heart. Something twisted in him painfully and he acted purely on instinct, hugging her from behind.

Holding her in his arms, he had felt a joy that defied words. Just when he thought he could not be happier, she had leaned into him, drowning him in sheer delight. Apologizing to her for making her cry, for scaring her had rolled off his lips naturally. As though those words belonged to her and he was just holding on to them for so long as a keepsake. She was in pain, and he had caused it. Those tears, they burned him.

I don't like tears in her eyes, he decided. Next time I make her cry, they'll be tears of joy.

Katara released the water she had been holding and winced. Had he not been watching her closely; he would have missed that slight twitch in her face. Zuko cursed himself for not stopping her before she pushed herself to this level of exhaustion. She was still healing. She was about to get more water when he leaned forward and grabbed her wrist. "Stop. Enough."

"What? You still have bruises all over."

"Yes, but nothing is broken anymore. I can live with a few bruises, you know."

"Zuko, I…" she began but he pulled her closer, so she was right next to him. He leaned against the wall, hoping she would take the hint. She did and imitated his pose.

"It's okay. I'm okay, really. Take some rest. You've been at it for a while."

"So… still think I'm an assassin?"

With a jolt, Zuko remembered her blood bending and the suspicions it had aroused in him. But now, seeing everything, he knew what his answer to this question was going to be. His lips twitched as he said, "Oh yes, just a piss poor one. Seeing as you're healing your quarry and being compassionate."

Katara rolled her eyes, "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"Compliment."

"Congratulations. You won the award for the most backhanded compliment of the year."

He sniggered.

"I could be something else though," she said slowly.

"Like what? A spy?" he snorted. "I'm sorry but your mission is royally fucked then, isn't it? I mean, you could barely gather any intelligence from the war camp at Ba Sing Se before you were kidnapped and brought here. Not sure if Water Tribe is interested in knowing about Earth Kingdom's rebels."

Katara stood up abruptly, wincing in pain at the movement. "I was wrong," she said after a bit. "You don't have a sarcastic humor. You have a morbid humor."

He nodded, "How are you feeling?"

"Me? I'm peachy."

Zuko cocked his head to the side, frowning. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. It's just that…"

Before she could finish her sentence, the wall lowered and a man he had not seen before walked in.

"Come, both of you."

Katara turned to look at the speaker and her eyes widened. "Haru?"

The long-haired, mustached man looked up in surprise and then did a double take. "Katara? You're the Water Bender?"

"What are you doing here?" Katara asked, walking up to Haru. Zuko got on to his feet, his back protested the movement but he ignored it.

"I sort of… uh… work here," Haru was looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"I see," Katara shuffled on her feet slightly.

The silence was getting more and more uncomfortable as it stretched and when it began to get oppressive, Zuko strove to fill it in. "How do you guys know each other?"

Both of them had identical expressions of surprise, as though just remembering he was here. "Oh," Katara said, her cheeks coloring in a way that brought thoughts in his minds that were not conducive to polite company. "Ummm… well… I…"

"We dated briefly," Haru answered when Katara dithered.