AN: I wanted to read a very specific plotline, so I wrote it :)
maybe I don't have to say this, but I am NOT condoning hacking (unless it's ethical). 99% of the time, if you hack into someone's electronics, they will not fall in love with you! don't do it.
enjoy!
It begins, as all stories-that-you-want-to-tell-your-children-but-you-remember-that-very-awkward-part-of-it-and-decide-it's-better-if-you-don't do, in a coffee shop.
Katara fidgets with her phone's power button, ensuring every two seconds that the proper program is loaded.
If this all goes awry, she tells herself for the umpteenth time, then she'll never get a second chance. There's no room for error. This part of the mission must be executed flawlessly.
But then he actually enters the cafe, laptop tucked between his arm and waist, and Katara is just a little inhibited because she can say with certainty that he is not what she expected.
Not completely, anyway.
She had presumed that Ozai's son would look pompous, condescending, and wear an evil scowl.
The scowl is the only thing she's predicted correctly, but even then only partially, for it seems to be more of a shield than anything else. The scar surrounding his left eye doesn't make him look evil; in fact, Katara finds herself wanting to run her fingers over it to soothe him. And because of the way he keeps tucking his chin to his chest, she is hesitant to call him pompous.
However, she self-reprimands as she turns her nose up, she's not here to figure him out.
Stay focused, Katara.
When the target gets close to a table, she surges forward, knocking into him and making sure to bump her phone against his laptop as they fall together. Her impact is cushioned by his chest and she squashes the tiniest seed of guilt that takes root at the sound of his soft, "oomph."
She presses her device flat against his computer and holds it there, unwilling to take even the smallest chance that the virus she meticulously crafted won't infect his laptop. She knows that near-field communication works too quickly for her concerns to have any real basis, but her perfectionist mindset means her mental countdown won't pipe down.
A good three seconds for the virus to spread...just to be safe, we'll hold for five more seconds so the entirety of the malware has time to auto-install...
Unfortunately, she's so caught up in her mission that she fails to realize she is lying on top of the target for a far longer time than is socially acceptable.
"Excuse me," he grunts, and she is not interested in talking about the way her breath catches at the sound of his voice. She scrabbles at the floor and then his shirt in her attempt to get off of him, and when she is finally back on her two feet, she can feel a ridiculous flush paint her skin.
He stands too, slowly and eyeing her the whole time with the same apprehension one would afford a rabid cat.
"Let me check that my screen isn't cracked," he says, not giving her a chance to dart away before he opens his computer.
The coder has enough faith in her abilities to know that her program won't do anything stupid, but that doesn't mean she wants to be standing here as the virus does its job. And if his screen is cracked, then he might ask her to pay for damages, because that's what sniveling, worthless, sons of corporate magnates do, right? They make everyone else pay for their shortcomings.
As she works hard to restrain a scoff, she is blinded by sunlight glinting off of his gold ring, his electronic screen, his striking, amber eyes.
She blinks twice and the effect stops.
The silence between them, contrasted by the ceaseless bustle of the coffee shop, grows heavier with every second that he scrutinizes his gadget.
"Sorry about that," she decides to offer, making an effort to look as sheepish and innocent as possible.
He stares at her for a long moment, and Katara's suddenly hyperconscious of her limp arms, her awkward posture, and most of all, her inability to lie. He sees right through her, she knows it, and she's done for-
But then he shrugs and slides into a chair. "No harm done."
"You sure about that?" The taunt slips out of her with ease and she grimaces at her foolishness.
Great going, now he'll have no reason at all to be suspicious of you when his computer malfunctions.
"Uh, yes?" His rasp is edged with confusion and annoyance, which irks her more than it should, considering she doesn't care what he thinks of her. She has half a mind to put her hands on her hips and tell him not to be too cocky, along with a few other choice adjectives, but she manages to just nod and escape from the cafe.
Once she's able to gulp down fresh air and clear her head, she opens her phone and smiles at the notification waiting for her. Perhaps it had been the most gauche interaction of her life, but that couldn't outweigh the fact that she had just successfully hacked into the target's computer.
She would make Azulon Industries rue the day they had taken her mother away from her.
The night they got the call that shattered her world, Katara had been an eight-year-old caught up in asinine worries of homework and the shirt Sokka refused to return to her.
All of that had dropped away as the somber voice over the phone informed her father that Kya, a well-known union lawyer who had traveled to Omashu for a particularly difficult case against Azulon Industries, had been pronounced dead.
The papers said it was an accident, an unfortunate mistake, the outcome of faulty brakes and spotty headlights and the dark veil of midnight.
Whispers that claimed to know better said it had been planned, a premeditated murder, a warning to others that silence was the only way to keep their voices.
Of course, such allegations were tossed to the wayside and every appeal to the legal system left Kya's family in despair.
Hakoda had needed to travel more often to make up for the sudden loss in income - and Gran-Gran had insinuated that it was a man's way of ignoring the loss in his heart - leaving Katara to become the family's primary caretaker in all but legalities.
Every day became a fight. A fight to not give in to the grief that was always running through her blood. A fight to not spiral and think about if she had said "I love you," one last time to her mother. A fight to not lose her mind on the rare but infuriating occasion that Sokka took three helpings of dinner when she hadn't even had one. A fight to force her tribespeople to teach her waterbending. A fight to become the best, a prodigy, a master of waterbending before she hit fifteen. A fight to learn computer science, a field in which men tended to dominate. A fight to, once again, become the best, so much so that nearly anyone who was familiar with computers knew of her prowess. A fight to not only survive but to thrive.
Against all odds, she won every single fight.
Such a girl could not be contained in one place forever, and so naturally, she had left home to see the world. Her extensive travels and studies led her to where she stands today, in a cramped yet homely apartment on the streets of Caldera City, developing systems to help people access and conserve clean water in the day, hellbent on vengeance in the night.
The Painted Lady, as she is known amongst hackers, has toiled over this virus for months now, perfecting it and making sure that once it infects her target's device, she'll know everything that ever happened on his screen.
...Alright, so perhaps that's a little creepy, but she's doing it for the greater good!
She isn't doing it to learn his credit card pin or anything (although if she does, by happenstance, manage to find that out - well, there were a few waterskins she has been looking at and it wasn't as if the brat couldn't stand to lose some money). Her reasons for hacking are as follows:
If Ozai's son has any information at all about her mother's death on his computer, she needs to know. Whether it's an email outlining the plans to murder her, or a map of the intersection where she was killed, she doesn't care. She can't be picky. She just needs the evidence with which she could drag Azulon Industries to court and watch them burn. If the first point never came to fruition - if, for some reason, the target had absolutely no information about Kya on his laptop - Katara would still be intent on making sure the company saw its end at her hands. She would glean all the corporation's loathsome secrets and make sure the world found out how vile they were.
The greater good, indeed. Katara will guarantee Azulon Industries never harms another soul ever again.
And she loves the sweet irony of the idea that the CEO's son will be complicit in the company's downfall.
As Katara watches her meal rotate in the microwave, she makes a mental list of everything she's learned from her surveillance in the past week.
The target is 25 years old. The target has recently graduated with an MBA. The target's boss - a man by the name of Zhao and a possible new target - does not like him. Actually, from the limited correspondence she has seen him engage in, it doesn't seem like anyone likes him very much. Except for his uncle. His uncle often sends him emails ridden with confusing proverbs, an ominous excess of ellipses, and ill-placed emojis. The target always replies, albeit with repressed exasperation. (Katara is not above admitting that she has giggled plenty over the target's countless email drafts in which he attempts to not blow a fuse at his uncle.) The target watches an insane amount of baby animal videos. Insane. (Katara is above admitting that she has found herself drawn in by the compilations. She doesn't have anything in common with the target.)
Much to her chagrin, the list ends there. She hasn't been able to gather any intel on Azulon Industries or her mother's death.
She yanks her dinner from the microwave before throwing herself into the chair at her desk. She can be patient, she tells herself. Missions like this take time. And the payoff will all be worth it.
But then she looks at the monitor that shows her the target's screen at all times and watches him click on what must be his seventh turtleduck video of the day.
The glass of water next to her clenched fist freezes over.
She's going to have to take a more hands-on approach to this.
Katara sets her shoulders back and raises her chin just outside the door of the coffee shop. It was only six weeks ago that she had first seen the target here, realized whose son he was, and decided the universe had provided her with the perfect opportunity to avenge Kya. Then, two weeks ago, she had purposely bumped into him and infected his computer, only to find that he was as dull as they came.
And now she is getting ready to befriend him. Although the mere thought of it makes her taste bile, she reminds herself once more that this is simply another inconvenience on the path to justice.
She pulls open the door and looks around the cafe, noting with satisfaction that the only open chair is the one across from the target.
She stands next to him for a good minute, and when she's unacknowledged, coughs delicately. At this point, he looks up, seems to recognize her, and goes back to ignoring her.
Rude.
"Hello? Can I sit here?"
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"I said no. Find somewhere else to sit."
"There are no empty chairs!"
"Not my problem. Find a new coffee shop."
Her jaw drops. What a jerk. "You know what? I'm not asking anymore." With that, she sits down in the empty chair with as much flair as she can muster.
The target glares at her from over his computer screen and she raises an eyebrow. He goes back to tapping furiously at his keyboard as she observes in silence. Only once the waitress has taken her order does she address him again.
"What are you-"
"Can you stop staring at me like a creep?"
She pauses midway through her question. "I'm not staring at you like a creep."
"Yes, you are, clumsy creep. You have been for the past five minutes."
"No, I'm- wait. Did you call me a clumsy creep?"
His unscarred cheek turns bright red. "Um. Aren't you the one who ran into me over there?" He gestures weakly at the spot where they had collided.
"Well, yes, but that doesn't- I have a real name!" And of course, no matter how reluctant she is to associate with him, such an exclamation can only be followed by, "I'm Katara," and a hand outstretched in anticipation for a handshake.
He stares at her hand for a few seconds, seemingly bewildered, before grasping it firmly. "I'm Zuko."
She knows. Like any hacker worth their salt, she obviously knew his name before launching her attack.
So why does this feel so momentous? Why does she feel like she'll never be able to call him the target ever again?
She is careful.
She is careful not to lose herself to his shy smiles, his expressive eyes, the comforting rasp of his voice, the calloused hands that always heat up her coffee because she lets it cool for too long.
After every meeting, she pulls out a picture of her mom from her dresser and studies it for a while. She studies the differences and similarities between herself and Kya, the way her mother's smile is a little wider than hers has ever been, her eyes the slightest bit brighter, her posture definitively more confident and unburdened, and wonders.
Would her mother be proud of Katara?
The question follows her around like a ghost as she goes through the actions of her day, and chases her in nightmares. It lingers in the air as Katara works tirelessly to program smart-faucets and hovers at her shoulder when she tracks Zuko's digital footprint with the eye of a predator hawk.
She doesn't know the answer. She never will.
And that simple yet heartbreaking fact is what helps her be cautious during her meetings with Zuko, even as every day brings her closer to that fine line between forced acquaintanceship and easy friendship.
She is so, so careful.
(It doesn't really matter in the end.)
His internet activity is still maddeningly boring. The most interesting thing she's ever seen him search up was "special types of knives."
She had been on the edge of her seat, thinking she had finally found some sort of implicating clue. Then his next search had been "do you even need knives to make tea?"
Her hands-on approach hasn't yielded any better results. She only knows a few more facts about Zuko with complete certainty.
Zuko is very secretive about his personal life. (Probably because nothing worth talking about happens in his personal life.) Zuko has a sister. The one time she was brought up in a conversation about siblings, he had looked simultaneously wistful and agitated. Katara got the idea that they were estranged. Zuko does not have a good relationship with his father. She knows nothing of his mother. Zuko likes his coffee black and bitter. Zuko never treats those in the service industry as lesser beings. He mentioned once that he is far too familiar with the pains of customer service. Zuko tries his best to hide the left side of his face from people until he is comfortable with them.
Katara is well-aware of the fact that 90% of the things she has learned about Zuko have little to no impact on her mission.
She's quite concerned when she realizes that she doesn't mind all that much.
And then one day, Zuko starts taking an interest in astronomy. He seems to be scouring the internet for information on the Ursa constellation.
Or perhaps he isn't, for she observes him progress with diligence to the fourth, twelfth, twenty-eighth page of search results, and not click on a single hyperlink about stars.
It has her puzzled, for sure. And when compounded with his withdrawn behavior in person, she can't help but be suspicious. But she doesn't know what exactly to suspect him of - there are no evident ties between his sudden affinity for the night sky and her mother's death.
"So. Learned any cool facts about...the North Star lately?" she asks him one evening, as casually as possible.
Subtlety is not her strong suit.
"Uh, no? Was I supposed to, Professor Katara?"
"I don't like your mocking tone very much, Mister Zuko. You know I could be a professor if I wanted to."
He rolls his eyes and smirks over the rim of his coffee mug. "I'm sure. You'd definitely make a name for yourself as a professor of 'How to Be a Pest 101.'"
She kicks him under the table and prepares a rebuttal that sits on the tip of her tongue when she realizes he's trying to change the topic. Sneaky man.
"Have you learned anything about space? At all? Any constellations or anything?"
At this, he narrows his eyes and sets down his beverage. "No. Where is this coming from?"
"Just- just curious. Some people like space and I wondered if maybe you did and stars are cool and all so maybe you do but if you don't-"
"Katara. Breathe."
She lets out a deep breath and takes a long sip of coffee to wash down the rest of her panicked ramblings. "Sorry. I was just wondering."
She thanks La that Zuko only seems to be amused, and not two seconds away from calling the authorities.
"Alright then. Space is interesting, I suppose, but it's not really my thing. I'm more into marketing and business."
She has to stop an, "I know," from slipping out because she's not supposed to know that yet. However, she's not able to resist pulling a scowl, and he notices.
"What's with the face?"
"You work for Azulon Industries."
"I- how do you know that?"
"Please. Your identity is no secret."
A beat passes and she dares to look up from her drink to see him leaning back and studying her intently, almost- almost furiously, she thinks.
"No. No, it isn't. But I had hoped, I had hoped for once, that someone would want to talk to me for reasons other than who my father is. And I thought you were that someone."
She scoffs. "Trust me, the last reason I'd ever want to talk to you is to get in the good graces of your father."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Your family's little company is stupid."
And now he looks offended? Couldn't he just pick a mood and stick with it?
"What has Azulon Industries ever done to you?"
For some reason that isn't perfectly clear, his question, tinged with defensiveness, has her raging.
"What has it not done?" she shouts, slamming her cup on the table and standing. "All it does is spread destruction and negativity. It's polluted the waters, it's immoral, and it took my mother away from me!"
Her voice seems to reverberate around the silent coffee shop. She can't bring herself to look at all the people she knows are staring and judging. Her eyes are locked on shocked amber, and as her vision starts to blur with tears, she pushes her chair back and storms out of the coffee shop.
The coolness of the night stings at her face as she walks aimlessly, just trying to put distance between Zuko and herself.
It doesn't work.
"Katara!"
Despite the slight burning sensation in her legs, she picks up the pace. She doesn't want to talk to him, she doesn't want his pity, he won't even understand-
"Katara, wait!"
She's nearly running now, but he's able to catch up to her and tug on her wrist, spinning her around so they're face to face. She keeps her eyes downturned and tries to incinerate his shoes with her gaze.
"I'm sorry."
"No!" She shoves at his chest and glares up at him. "I don't want to hear about how sorry you are. Nothing you say or do will ever be able to change the fact that your father, your precious company, killed my mom!"
"I know that. But maybe you could talk to me about it. I might- I might understand more than you think."
She crosses her arms and turns away from him. "How could you? How can you really understand the pain that a child feels when their mother is ripped away from them? She was miles away, all the way across the ocean. She was on a work trip in Omashu, fighting for the rights of labor unions in a case against Azulon Industries. It was a difficult case, but I remember her calling home to tell us she had finally made a breakthrough. She said she was close to closing the case and she'd be home in a few days. And then she- she never-"
Tears are falling in earnest now and every word she tries to say comes out as a choked sob. Warm arms wrap around her trembling shoulders and pull her into a snug embrace.
"She never came home, Zuko."
"I know. I'm sorry." He continues to mumble words of comfort into her hair as his hands run up and down her back soothingly.
"They killed her, you know," she manages to say after a while. His arms tighten around her. "She died in a car crash, but there's no way it was an accident. It was planned. She was murdered because she was too good at her job."
There's silence for a while.
"I don't doubt it. My mother- they- he didn't treat her well. One day, when Azula was nine and I was eleven, we came home from school to find all her stuff still there, but no sign of her. Then Father came home and told us we weren't allowed to talk about Mom ever again. It was as if she had never existed. And as if that wasn't enough, he kept trying to turn Azula into a mini-him until he...he gave up."
She pulls away, discerning from his voice that it was getting difficult for him to speak. There are tiny drops of water running down his cheeks, and so she does as she has wanted to from the start.
Her hand raises to brush the tears away, before gently holding the scarred side of his face. Eyes closed, he leans into the touch and lets his warm breath dance across her wrist.
"So you do understand," she whispers.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He cracks open his good eye and gives her a small yet genuine smile. "It's not your fault."
"I know, but still. I'm sorry the world has been cruel to you. You didn't deserve to deal with that."
"Neither did you." Zuko takes both of her hands in his and hardly hesitates before saying, "I'm going to find out what happened to your mom, Katara."
Her mouth falls open and guilt over choosing him as a target for hacking clenches her heart. "No, you- you don't have to do that! I'd never ask you to-"
"I'm aware. But I'm offering. In fact, I swear upon my mother that I will do whatever it takes to find out the truth about yours. This is the least I can do."
"You don't owe me anything," she insists, trying to pull away, but he won't let go.
"Azulon Industries does, though. And we'll make them pay."
A strange feeling shoots through her body at his words. Is it because of the honesty in his eyes or the solidarity behind his words?
It's because of him.
He truly doesn't know that much about her and they've only barely begun their tentative friendship, but here he stands, without judgment or guile, swearing on one of the most important souls in his life, all for her sake.
She is so overwhelmed with emotion at that realization that she throws her arms around him and hugs him tight.
"Thank you, Zuko."
AN: the next chapter is heavy. but fun! it should be posted Friday.
as always, thank you for reading! your kind words are treasured.