Glad to see everyone's pretty on board with the direction my work is going _ I was a little worried some people wouldn't like it, but it seems most everyone's intrigued. Excellent!

Everyone who reads my work, all my lovely Kudos giving superstars, you are the force which keeps me going. I cannot express enough how much I appreciate all the wonderful kudos, comments, and support. This fic wouldn't exist without you, my shining stars!

Four Months Previously:

The Cave of Two Lovers

Aang's octopus stance is near flawless, but Katara knows Sokka hasn't been sleeping. He's quick to take the first watch, and she knows more time passes than he lets on when he finally wakes her or Aang to take over. She feels the moon in her blood after all. She knows the nights like they're ingrained in her soul. And she knows her brother's grief is still fresh. She's had similar sleepless nights for years, ever since their mother's death.

Lounging on his leaf, drifting contentedly between her and Aang, is the most relaxed she's seen Sokka in weeks. Even if he is determined to move them along to Omashu. Always pushing himself. Always looking forwards for all of them because it's Aang's job to look around him, and Katara's always left a piece of herself in the past.

"You have to be done by now," he groans, the noise turning into a yawn. He didn't bother to lift his hair out of his eyes that time. "Aang knows the stance. Knows too…" He trails off into another yawn. "Let me know when you slowpokes want to go."

Her good-natured, stubborn brother flops back onto his leaf, snoring before Aang can lower the water which makes his dancing octopus. "Is he okay?"

"Tired." Katara sends a little current to sweep Sokka gently away, mindful of the noise their sparring can generate. "Show me again."

"Katara, I think I-"

"Again, Aang." He knows how seriously she takes her role as his teacher; she shouldn't have to ask twice.

He repeats the waterbending exercise without complaint, and she immediately spots the imperfection she was looking for. His arms don't cover his chest and stomach together in the way she just spent an hour showing him, and she resists the urge to shake her head. She knows his teachings are about flowing movements, lightness. She's seen his arms down in close combat, relaxed, no hint of where he might go. Moving like a leaf on the breeze has taken him far, but it also takes him backwards.

Without warning, Katara rushes in. Aang squawks in surprise, his arms flying out, but the gust of air pushes feebly against the wave she throws up, then crashes down in front of him, hooking around his submerged feet. She could take them out with a quick pull, but she's making a point, and jumps through the water to land directly in front of him. One hand plants firmly on his shoulder while the other, two fingers extended, jabs lightly into his solar plexus.

"What was your mistake?"

His chest rises and falls, a flush of embarrassed defeat rising in his cheeks. She can feel his breath on her face, she managed to get in so close. "I didn't protect my centre."

"Wrong." His brows crease over large, confused eyes. She steps back, but not far, emphasising how little space between them is left. "You relied on your assumption Waterbenders fight defensively. You let that predict my movements, so when I rushed in, you panicked."

Aang's eyes lower to the water rippling around their ankles. "I know, but I didn't fight back because I didn't want to hurt you."

That softens her. This time, when she touches his shoulder, it's gentle and reassuring. It feels more like herself. "I know." He smiles up at her. "But I'm not wrong, am I?"

He blushes again, rubs the back of his neck. "It's not what Master Pakku showed us."

"Exactly."

It was something she'd been developing herself. Unbidden, a slash of a smile rears itself in her mind, the triumphant, haughty voice taunting her before she lost consciousness at the Spirit Oasis.

Zuko.

Of all the confusing ways her heart gives and takes at the mere thought of him, the anguish when she'd failed to keep Aang safe was something she understood clearly.

"I thought I was facing another Firebender," Aang jokes, smiling brightly in a way that lets her know he'd never think of her like he thought of them, of firebending.

Exactly, she wants to say again, but doesn't. They'll address Aang's aversion to the aggressive element when they come to it, but it can't hurt to pave the way a little first.

In the meantime, preparing herself if she ever sees the scarred prince again is the best way to put her relentless thoughts of him to good use.

Watching and Waiting

She can't stop thinking about Zuko. About Zuko, and Iroh, and the tea shop and their fake identities. About how they can't just be hiding in the Earth Kingdom but running from their home to get there. She can't stop thinking about how she didn't turn them in when she should have, only that she couldn't.

And the only way she's going to be able to relieve the steady cluster ache building at her left temple is if she finds the Blue Spirit and gets some answers.

Trouble is the only way she'll find him again, so all she's got to do is get into a little trouble. It's appallingly easy outside of the Upper Ring.

The citizens living in the clean, uniform terraced houses were mostly born to the idyllic neighbourhoods, but those who clawed their way up from the Middle Ring are eager to forget where they came from as soon as possible. Katara isn't surprised, but she is disgusted how little this city takes care of its own. In the South Pole the tribe was one body, her father not so much the brain running them but the heart keeping life flooding through each man, women, and child Katara was taught to call her family. If one fell down, the tribe gathered behind them to help them back onto their feet.

One neighbourhood in Ba Sing Se holds double the amount of people than her entire village, yet she's never felt so distant from her fellow man.

Of course, a united city built on the charity of its inhabitants is not the target rich environment she seeks now. Doesn't make her feel any better as she takes advantage of the Middle Ring's opportunists and thieves. They're not the same as those in the Lower Ring, which is why the Blue Spirit doesn't bother with them.

She'd been searching for him for four days before she finally caught on.

Trade and work were so low in the Lower Ring, resorting to stealing for your supper was just another career choice. Only those who threatened the sanctity of the other rings really gained attention from the Dai Li. Anything else was left to the understaffed and over-worked civil police.

Perhaps the Blue Spirit feels an affinity with the petty thieves who steal in circles around each other, or the hungry children snatching an apple or a handful of grain for the first meal they've had in days. Whatever it is, they're left alone.

The Blue Spirit knows who the real thieves are.

If the stories buzzing across the thin lines between the Rings are true, The Blue Spirit is a guardian to the people. It seeks out the merchants who take one look at shabby clothes and round desperate eyes and charge twice. Gangs roving between the districts disband overnight. Coins once in short supply are wrung from pockets fit to bursting like Katara wrings water from Sokka's dirty socks.

Katara wouldn't say she agrees with the vigilante's methods. She also won't be inclined to stop the masked crusader once she finds them again.

If she finds them again. They're proving a hard celebrity to pin down, which she supposes is the point.

Four Months Previously:

The Cave of Two Lovers

Chong and Aang are kindred spirits in an atypical kind of sense. They lounge together against Appa's shaggy side, trading stories of their nomadic escapades. Maybe Aang finds a lost piece of himself in the bard's laborious stories and how long he takes to find his own point. He's also the only one of them who can stand the strange way the bard plucks the strings of the well-worn lute for more than a few bars.

Either way, Aang smiles under his flower crown as he taps his foot to Chong's music. After the rigorous morning Katara put him through, and the magic way fingers card through her hair, she can't find it in her heart to pull him away.

Chong's wife, Lily, braids flowers into her hair like Gran-Gran would, fingers quick and focused like the handmaiden Zuko assigned her. They even share the same name, though actually, Katara called the woman Lily based on the ink of her chest, and she never corrected her.

Katara misses her without any of the reservation she lets herself miss the few moments she and Zuko shared.

Lily was kind to her when she had no reason to be. She made sure the water she bathed Katara in was hot, attuned herself to the foods Katara liked. She warned her of the temper Zuko was in when she could, if he was cool like the sea, or running hot after yet another perceived slight or slip of composure.

She never did find out what the tattoo encompassing her chest meant, only that it was the catalyst for the entire identity Katara formed around the older woman.

Appa doesn't seem to mind the nomads as much as Sokka does. The braids in his fur are loose, the man doing them a salve to animal temperaments that instantly earns Aang's approval. Momo gets equal attention in the form of shared berries and scratches behind the ear in spots which make him go liquid and purr.

And, the more stories Chong shares, sings, speaks poetically, she likes him a little more as she remembers home, the speakers and shamans of her tribe.

Sokka feels none of the nostalgia, nor extends any of her courtesy. "Look, I hate to be the wet blanket here, but since Katara is busy, I guess it's up to me."

She glares at him before pointedly relaxing back into Lily's work on her hair. Makes it perfectly clear, she's content to stay as long as Aang wants.

"We need to get to Omashu," Sokka presses. "No side-tracks, no worms and definitely no rainbows."

Chong plucks a chord that rings sharp until he adjusts his fingers, creating a richer, fuller sound. "Wow, sounds like someone has a case of destination fever. You're worried too much about where you're going."

"You got to focus less on the "where" and more on the "going"." Lily gestures around them as if the universe knows, accidentally tugging Katara's hair in the process. "Am I right, sister?"

Katara's not sure why the lesson extends to her. "Uh, sure." She catches her brother's eye, sighs. "Sokka's right. We need to find King Bumi, so Aang can learn earthbending somewhere safe."

Chong plucks the off note again. "Sounds like you're heading to Omashu." When he plucks again, it harmonises to the sound of Sokka's frustrated groan. Chong looks confusedly at his lute, shakes it, plucks the chord again and shrugs when it sounds normally. "There's an old story about a secret pass right through the mountains."

"Is this real, or another legend?" Aang asks.

"Oh, it's a real legend," Chong laughs without a hint of irony, standing up and gearing his lute for a song. "And it's as old as earthbending itself:

"Two lovers,

forbidden from one another,

the war divides their people

and the mountain divides them apart!

Built a path to be together!"

The song comes to a jarring halt. "Yeah, I forget the next couple of lines, but then it goes…

"Secret tunnel!

Secret tunnel!

Through the mountains,

secret, secret, secret, secret tunnel!

Yeah!"

The nomads, having jumped to their feet and started dancing the moment Chong begun, clap as he rings off the final chord. Aang laughs and claps raucously along.

Normally, that would be enough to get Katara going, but her heart's off its beat. Deep down, she feels a push in her that is missing its pull. She's been holding a rope she thought was tied to a future, except something in Chong's song has cut the rope. She looks at Aang's cheerful face, trying to find it. Nothing.

Sokka's scowling, not paying attention to her sudden distress.

She's never felt so hollowed out before. Like something is missing. She jumps up when Sokka announces their departure, eager to get away from any mention of lovers and wars and the feeling of that missing piece in her soul.

Lily's eyes follow her as she mounts Appa, the woman's eyebrow lifting knowingly with the two fingered wave she salutes their departure with. Katara gets the feeling it's just for her.

Watching and Waiting

All she has is their first encounter. If that's anything to go on, the Blue Spirit likes skulking around the Middle Ring. So Katara brushes off her skulking skills and drags out her shopping trips as long as she can conceivably convince the others hauling food takes. Unsurprisingly, Sokka and Toph don't even question her. Toph's barely set foot in a kitchen her whole life, let alone provided her own meals, and Sokka's taken on the responsibility of how they'll break through the Dai Li to get to the Earth King. Interest and disinterest serve her well with them. Unfortunately, without the freedom to look for Appa as he'd like, Aang's taken to glomming onto Katara whenever possible.

"You take so long, Katara. I can come and help you carry," he'd offered in that heartbreakingly earnest way of his.

Of course, Toph never helps. "Yes, please, take Twinkle Toes out of here so I don't have to listen to his feet dragging anymore. It's like two fat beetle snakes doing the nasty."

And, naturally, only the chance to make a joke gets Sokka to lift his head from the tenth draft of his meeting proposal. "Is that a beast with two backs or just one big back?"

"Oh, there's something big, and it's not it's back."

Despite being nearly fifteen, Aang's face exploded into a blush. His tooth aching sweetness in the face of Sokka and Toph's cackling was the perfect cover for Katara to slip free. But night's swiftly fallen, and she's seen no hide nor hair of the Blue Spirit. No flash of blue, no shadow darting about the Middle Ring's alleys. She's posted up in one now, leaning against the wall just inside the mouth so she's still washed in the glow of the lamp swinging out front of Kwong's Laundry and Dye emporium.

The city bustles around her but she's removed enough to watch it pass. Only the occasional Earth Citizen approaches, sometimes looking for directions, others asking her if she has any matches to light their burner. She's used to the people of her tribe asking her, taking no for an answer because they know the daughter of Hakoda doesn't smoke. Feeling like she has to explain herself to total strangers - total strangers who approach her like it's nothing and are walking off before she's finished - is a rather surreal experience.

"Help!"

A voice breaks the descent of Katara's concentration into boredom. She bolts upright from leaning against the wall.

"Stop them! Theif!"

She's sprinting towards the voice before she's fully registered where it's coming from. She doesn't need to look far. A figure clad all in black bursts from around the corner, mask swivelling this way and that as they clutch a bag to their chest. Likely looking for any Dai Li agents. It swings past her, but the thief takes off in the opposite direction. Recognising her or simply a threat presenting itself, Katara doesn't know, but she gives chase all the same.

And loses her target just as quickly. They have a superior knowledge of Ba Sing Se. Ducking through the streets, skidding around corners Katara almost misses in her haste. She has to stop frequently to get her bearings, relying on witness accounts before she realises the Blue Spirit is heading for the wall into the Lower Ring.

She'd have lost him inevitably. She can't cross that boundary without risking anything getting back to the Dai Li. Panting, snorting from the chase, she glares up at the divider of this huge city, hating it for a new reason as it towers over her like a laughing bully who's pushed her down.

But stone isn't alive, isn't moveable like water and air. She could glare at it all night and get nowhere. So, she turns and drags her sorry self back towards the Upper Ring gate.

A throat clears at the mouth of Kwong's Laundry and Dye emporium. She hadn't planned on passing, this was simply the quickest way back to the tram station. But the Blue Spirit's there, waiting with arms folded, one shoulder leaning against the wall, looking for all the world bored as they wait for her.

"How did you..." Katara narrows her eyes. "You knew I was there the whole time."

It's not a question, but the Blue Spirit nods.

"And you let me stand around for hours instead of showing up?"

Another nod accompanied by a shrug.

"It's rude to keep a lady waiting."

A chuckle quickly becomes a cough as the Blue Spirit shakes their head. It's husky and undoubtedly masculine. She files that away.

"Where'd the bag go? What did you do with it?"

He spreads his hands in front of him in the empty air before standing off the wall and gesturing into the alley as if to say he has nothing to hide.

"I'm not wandering into a dark alley with you at my back," Katara scoffs.

The mask tilts curiously – If a blank screaming water spirit can be curious. He straightens, hands on his hips and twists to look into the alley himself, back at her, then holds up three fingers. Somehow, he appears smug as his meaning dawns on her.

"I went down there knowing those men were following me," she grumbles. "I trapped them."

He tilts his head again. She can feel him regarding her story, weighing it up against the girl standing before him now. What does he see? What made him trust her to send her to the Lower Ring? Was it even trust, or something more, something she won't understand if that mask stays in the way?

"Why did you send me to that tea shop?" she demands, outright.

Unlike their first meeting, he's ready for her and polices his body language. She can't tell anything from his stiff shoulders, rigid back, or blank screaming mask staring down at her.

"You sent me there, and you're not going to tell me why? That's not how this works- Hey!" she calls when he turns his back on her and stalks into the alley. She doesn't give much thought to giving chase. She's been searching for him for a week, he's not getting away so easily. "Do you have any idea what they are? You're against the Fire Nation, right? Do you know you're protecting the Dragon of the West and the heir to the throne?"

The Blue Spirit stops when he reaches the alleys dead end and turns. But his mask tilts above her head, surveying the dank slice of privacy he's delivered them into. He wasn't running, she'd raised her voice.

You've got a fire in you, Katara. Gran-Gran's words ring in her head. If the stories are true, the Blue Spirit is the only person who could possibly hate the Fire Nation more than she does – or Sokka.

Except, he nods at her. "So, you do know? So why send me to them?" She's already asked this question and it's getting her nowhere. "Look, the second I saw him I wanted to turn tail and run to the Dai Li. You know what they'd do if they discovered Firebenders in their city?"

The Blue Spirit nods once.

"The old man may not look it, but they're both dangerous. And the prince is… unrelenting. He chased us to the ends of the earth and back again, and he just happens to be in the city the same time as the Avatar?" Katara shakes her head at herself, at the ludicrousness of where her traitorous heart has led her. "And I… didn't. I didn't go to the Dai Li. Not-" she holds up a hand when the Blue Spirit tilts his head at her. "-not because he isn't doing anything wrong. He's lied to me before. I won't be so blinded again. I didn't go because you helped me. Are you vouching for him?"

The Blue Spirit nods a little more emphatically.

"Why?" But she shakes her head when he begins to lift his hands. "No, no, no. I can't read gesture."

His arms fold moodily over his chest, his body becoming the perfect example of a flat, unimpressed expression. When that doesn't change for a full minute, she sighs. Accepting her silence – with an air of smugness she's sure she isn't imagining – he goes back to miming what is unmistakeably a tray.

"You're vouching for him because he serves tea?" Katara laughs when the mask bobs. "That's it? I shouldn't turn in a war criminal because he serves tea? What, is he really good at it?"

The Blue Spirit flattens his hand in the air between them and shakes it back and force. Not really, he says without saying. Zuko's only friend in the city, if he even knows he's being looked out for, and even he can't say there's any credit to his hosting abilities.

"Good or not, I'm going to need more than that." She copies his stance, folding her arms across her stomach.

The Blue Spirit shrugs, but his shoulders move towards her, and she gets the sense he's curious. How do you plan to get it?

"I suppose…" If that was what he was asking. It's impossible to tell, but he's made it clear he won't speak. His identity is his currency and like the rest of this city, he doesn't have enough to spare. So, he must be local. Local enough it's too risky for his neighbours to know of his nocturnal activities.

Interesting.

Uninvited to her thoughts, The Blue Spirit gets a taste of his own medicine as he grunts in frustration. He lifts a hand pointing his first and second fingers in front of his eyes, then turns them out to Katara.

"Eyes," she guesses. He does it again. "Watching. You think I should watch him?"

The Blue spirit nods.

"And I need to do that instead of you just telling me why I should."

The Blue Spirit nods again, more perfunctory than the last before he repeats the watching gesture then moves his pointing finger down. He hesitates over her heart, then seems to think better of it and stops at her stomach, clenching the hand into a fist.

"I need to see it to believe it." Her heart may have gotten her in trouble, but her gut has never steered her wrong. He's incredibly perceptive to have guessed that, though she supposes someone who's spent the better part of a week skulking around alleys isn't an advocate for thinking things through. "Fine."

The Blue Spirit straightens up with a nod, satisfied.

"Hang on," she calls when he makes to leave. He pauses, hands on the wall he's about to scale up, looking at her. "If I'm going to watch him, you're going to show me how to do it, so he doesn't notice."

The mask tilts before a scoff and a shake of the head implies an imminent departure.

"Hey!" Katara runs over to grab the back of his black shirt before he can shimmy out of reach. "He's not going to be his true self if he knows I'm watching," she manages to get out as she wrestles him back onto the ground. He's not so much fighting her as trying to squirm out of her grip. "I need to be discreet and I can learn that from the guy who tracked me for hours without me noticing!"

His squirming stops. A defeated sigh is punctuated by the hollow thunk of the mask knocking against the crumbling brick work. He lets her help him climb back down, brushing off her steadying hands. Without stopping he heads for the low wall at the back of the alley, but when she moves to follow, he holds up a hand.

Scaling to the top, he pauses at the peak to look back at her. With one hand he holds up three fingers.

Two.

One.

He slips over the wall, his pounding feet fading almost entirely before she understands.

Lesson number one has already started: Don't lose the target.

Four Months Previously:

The Cave of Two Lovers

Her ribs ache where Aang tackled her, but not enough to warrant wasting water on a healing session. It doesn't offer much, but if their fire runs out before they get out of these caves, the meagre blue glow of her healing could drag a few extra minutes of sight for them.

He holds their last torch ahead of her now, guiding their procession of nervous benders and a jittery Sky bison through the dark tunnels. Appa's apprehension spreads to her, and only by looking at the fire held aloft in Aang's hand can Katara cling to any semblance of calm.

It reminds her to scratch a prayer into the next piece of snow she can get her hands on, one of thanks.

I feel the sun on the back of my neck and remember to be thankful.

She doesn't want to think about Zuko's rasping voice right now, trapped in tunnels supposedly built by two forbidden lovers. Her determination to not do so spreads so far, she wonders if she even believes if Chong's right about the legend. He couldn't remember the lyrics, after all. Probably something he got mixed up with another story, one as far from this cave, lovers and, most importantly, her, as possible.

She's with Aang, her friend who dove into a crumbling wall to save her. Method and her bruised ribs notwithstanding, she's with one of the people who loves her most in the world, on their way to the other.

In this instance, Katara's ready for the journey to be over, excited for the destination and fresh air and not feeling like the world is about to collapse on top of her.

And it's that moment she chooses to look beyond the flickering light of the torch. "Aang, look!"

Appa's charging for the exit before the words finish leaving her mouth, as, if not more, excited than her to be out of these caves. Her hopes die as she runs for the door, only to find herself in a huge chamber, with no other way out but the one they came in through.

She sees the two raised beds of stone, the long, boxes covered in dust, untouched and determined to stay that way, and has the realisation as Aang reverently whispers it aloud:

"We're in a tomb."

He goes closer to the coffins. Huge stone edifices to the two people laid to rest in this hallowed, buried place. Katara wants nothing more than to turn and head back the way they came, put as much space between them and the people she knows must be in those final resting places. Seeing them for herself brings forth the empty feeling she'd been pressing back, feels it try to break free the deeper into the caves they dared walk.

Like it was demanding to be heard. By her, one half of this piece. Something pulling her in. Chong's voice rings in her mind like a hook through a poor fishes lip as Aang beckons her closer.

"It must be the two lovers from the legend," he says like she hasn't already come to that terrible realisation.

She goes, swallowing the lump in her throat. "These pictures tell their story."

A ship. A storm. Pai Sho boards and cups of tea. A flick of the lips that only hint at a smile. A world of white surrounding two figures; one wreathed in flame, the other a halo of dark ocean water.

Those pictures form a story in her mind. A story - not even a real story; a fantasy, a coping mechanism of the very real captivity she suffered - she shakes away, focusing on the tiles in front of her.

"They met on top of the mountain that divided their two villages ..."

Oceans apart; stubborn waters. Stormy tropical seas.

"The villages were enemies, so they could not be together. But their love was strong, and they found a way."

Don't go.

You'll realise you're not as strong as you think you are, and I'll be alone.

"The two lovers learned earthbending from the badgermoles; they became the first earthbenders. They built elaborate tunnels, so they could meet secretly. Anyone who tried to follow them would be forever lost in the labyrinth."

Always press forwards, flow around your opponent. Nothing opens to someone who allows themselves to be pushed backwards. Bend like the willow until the moment to snap back presents itself.

Their love moved mountains.

Journey, not destination; Lost in a labyrinth.

"But, one day, the man didn't come. he'd died in the war between the two villages."

You only get stupid when Zhao's involved, and stupid Zuko is a reckless Zuko.

"Devastated, the woman unleashed a terrible display of her earthbending power - she could have destroyed them all. But, instead, she declared the war over. Both villages helped her build a new city where they would live together in peace."

She shouldn't feel like her heart is sticking to its downward beat, waiting for the other half to join. Her journey had no end except the one she made.

Never let me see you again.

She made her destination before this cave. And if she feels lost in a labyrinth, it's only because she is, here in the real world. Not in a world of her imaginings where she keeps helplessly looking for that spark in the darkness, a place where a confused heart burns for someone who isn't coming back.

Aang watches her until he realises she isn't going to read the last lines of the story. "Forged in war, strengthened by love. A love which shaped the world. The woman's name was Oma and the man's name was Shu. The great city was named Omashu as a monument to their love... Huh, I wonder if Bumi knows that's where the name comes from?"

Katara reaches out to touch the inscription. "Love is brightest in the dark."

She thinks fleetingly of sunbeams in dark ocean water, before turning away from the tomb. Aang's looking at her like she's his sun, his stars, his way towards the light. Her surge of affection for his complete trust in her is followed by a stroke of genius that leaves a sinister aftertaste in her mouth. It might not be the most ethical motivation, but she'll show this unnamed ache in her chest who's going to decide who's destiny.

Aang is her friend, she loves him and trusts him as completely as he does her, if the way he's looking at her is any indication. Of course, she cares more about him than Zuko, but she only knows the firebenders kiss.

What does it matter how the journey is started if the destination is the same? She'll prove to her treacherous heart who's in control of her journey.

"I have a crazy idea..."

Watching and Waiting

Zuko is much easier to keep up with than the Blue Spirit. That tends to happen when the target doesn't know he's being followed.

Despite Blue's unorthodox methods, which Katara isn't entirely convinced weren't an attempt to get rid of her, she was able to follow the ripples of his presence: Heads turned, marks on the floor, laundry settling on a washing line concealing an open alley, scuffs and prints. All of it eventually leading to a smug masked man reclining in an alley on some broken crates, waiting for her to find him.

She supposes she should have been more specific but it's still insulting. She's of the Southern Watertribe, she knows how to track prey. What she doesn't know how to do is keep from being discovered while she hunts.

She does her best, and so far, it seems to be working. Zuko hasn't noticed her all day. Not when he helped his Uncle prep the tea blends in the morning before cleaning the tables before opening. Not when he was on the move, which turned out to be a trip to the market to pick up fresh ingredients. She thought she was on to something when he took a bag to the Middle Ring check point, only to spend hours going from house to house as the banished prince dropped off tea.

Iroh's gaining a name for himself outside of the Lower Ring. Good for him, but it doesn't alleviate Katara's suspicions. All it really does is put an ache in her feet and another kink in her already tired back.

All she needs to do is think of Aang, of Zuko overwhelming her at the North Pole, and she's locked back in. She barely risks blinking in case he finds a way to slip away from her. Snakes and worms both slither and she's been bitten enough times because she was foolish enough to trust Zuko. He's not getting an inch from her until she's sure with everything in her being he's no longer a threat to her friends.

Keeping her distance, Katara tracks Zuko's delivery progress throughout the Middle Ring. He isn't hurried, perhaps mindful of jostling the tea in his basket, perhaps seizing the rare opportunity being out of the stuffy shop. He seems to be enjoying being anonymous in this city. His life depends on it, but it's so hard to reconcile that with the banished prince who'd sit across the Pai Sho board from her, desperate to go home.

Yet, when he passes the buildings into a spot of soft spring sunlight, he tilts his head up. Eyes closed. Breathing in the common moments of life everyone else is so eager to move beyond.

Could he really be at peace in this life? Could he really be telling her the truth?

She snaps herself out of the ridiculous notion. Firebenders enjoy the sun. A brief moment of reflection after an afternoon's work doesn't change what he is. And what he is, is-

Gone.

Somewhere in her observations, Zuko slipped away from her. Cursing to her spirits, she approaches the intersection she'd let her attention wander from. Opening onto a square, she curses again when she realises there are four possible ways he could have slipped off to. His basket was still clinking, perhaps she can ask around for the tea delivery boy, trust in the fame Iroh's brews are generating to lead her back to-

A hand lands heavily on her shoulder, spinning her around. It's quick enough to back off before she's got the cap off her water skin, her hands lifting the water defensively.

Zuko tracks her readied hands with a raised eyebrow. He's leaning against the wall, long body half in the sun, face in shadow. "Shouldn't I be the one who's jumpy?" His gold eyes pierce through the gloom, right through her. "Considering I'm the one being followed?"

Her hands flop to her sides. "You saw me?" The water sluices back into her skin, sounding like a thundering ocean in Katara's ears as the futility of her day dawns on her.

"Since we crossed into the Middle Ring, yeah," he answers, finding great amusement in her growing mortification. "You're really so bored in Ba Sing Se you have nothing better to do than trail after me all day?"

She determinedly does not answer the last question. Agni will freeze over before she reveals anything about Aang, his training with her and Toph, or their slow going with the Earth King to him. "How?" She'd been using everything Blue taught her. How in the four Nations had Zuko spotted her?

The corner of Zuko's mouth ticks up, turning his amusement wicked. "I have my ways."

Her cheeks redden. "Ways my butt. You'd have to have eyes in the back of your head to have spotted me at the gates. What, you have a sixth sense? Did one of the guards tip you off?"

"What if someone did?" Zuko's enjoying this immensely. He's not trying to hide it, giving her the queerest notion he's messing with her, that there's a joke she's not in on. Mercifully, he takes pity on her. "I grew up the heir to a Nation's throne. I've been taught how to spot assassination attempts since I was a child."

It's the kindness with which he ribs her that's even more unsettling.

"Plus, you're not that sneaky."

"I'm plenty sneaky," she defends hotly.

Zuko gestures to the space between them, then in front of his eyes. "Clearly. Where'd you go?" He chuckles when she glares at him. Another change, how little he polices his amusement. She'd like it better if it weren't at her expense, she could finally find out what it's like to laugh with him. "Not that I'm not flattered, but why are you following me, anyway?"

"I…" This easy-going, calm Zuko has thrown her. Why is she hesitating? She isn't the one who's committed war crimes worthy of needing watching. "I was deciding for myself if you were serious about restarting your life here."

Zuko cocks his head down at her, brows pinching together thoughtfully. "Huh, makes sense."

"Don't get defensive. You've done nothing but lie to me- wait, what?" Katara cuts herself off, blinking up at him.

He's back to being amused by her, eyes crinkling at the sides. "It makes sense. It's all I've got, but what good is my word to you?" His expression lightens with an idea and he pivots to the basket at his feet. Fishing inside, he draws out a tall clay cup sealed tightly. "I actually have one thing. One of our customers cancelled their order."

He proffers the cup to her.

"Tea?" she asks.

"It's literally the last thing Uncle and I have left." He shrugs. "And it's all just hot leaf juice to me."

"Don't let Iroh hear you saying that," Katara says as she takes the cup. It's warm to the touch and she wonders if Zuko did it just then, just for her.

He ducks his head. "Too late. Apparently lugging boiling hot tea in boiling weather will deepen my appreciation for it."

"He sent you out to steep?" Katara takes only a little pleasure in the way Zuko's eyes glitter, his tell-tale sign right before he huffs. So, not entirely done with his reservations. She peels the cap off and a fruity scent wafts from the sweating rim. A new blend?

"He did." Zuko's busy bundling the basket onto his back. "Well, waterbender, I have more deliveries to make. Wouldn't want you to faint on the job." He nods pointedly at the cup.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she takes a sip – and immediately spits it out. "Blech! Papaya? Are you serious?"

Zuko's already sniggering as he walks away. "Oh, was I not paying attention?" He swivels to walk backwards, already almost losing her in the crowd milling around between them. "Keep up. Maybe another order will cancel."

Four Months Previously:

The Cave of Two Lovers

Sunlight bathes and blinds her. Still, she runs head on into open space free of solid, halting rock, never fearing the mountains sudden drop. Head clear. Heart full of fresh air. Thank you, she thinks idly as the sun warms the back of her neck when she spins, arms wide, relishing in wide spaces. To no spirit in particular because her spirits only hear the prayers when given to the ice.

Sokka's hug is powerful and desperate, clinging to her as if he fears the bards will drag him with them on their never-ending journey. She laughs and hugs him back, but Chong sets upon him like a lazy panther-cat when he's freed. The pink flower crown sits lightly atop her brother's dusky, dark head, setting the light blush ablaze on his cheeks.

Katara steps aside, because watching Sokka squirm with the effort of not unloading what she can only imagine is the last of his patience over the bard is the distraction she needs as Aang, bidding Moku farewell, looks at her over his shoulder.

"I hope you learned a little something about not letting the plans get in the way of the journey," Chong is saying, scooping Sokka up into a hug.

Katara chuckles as her brother locks up, muttering something she can't hear.

"The journey is the best part."

Katara hadn't heard Lily approaching. She watches her husband embarrass Sokka with a content fondness. Quirks and eccentricities, for better or worse. Katara idly wonders if Chong ever has moods, if he goes broody when he loses at Pai Sho, if they ever play it on their travels.

"I'll be sure to remind him," Katara says, nodding as her brother finally disentangles himself from Chong's hug.

But she feels Lily's eyes on her and turns. "I wasn't talking about him." She winks and takes her husband's hand before he can be too taken with his lute. "Enjoy it, honey. Who knows when you'll find each other again."

"What was that about?" Sokka asks. Whether he's forgotten about it, or pointedly ignoring her rising eyes, he still has Chong's flower crown on his head.

"I have no idea," Katara murmurs as she avoids Aang's eyes for the second time.

It was enough. The faintest brush of his lips against hers. All she needed. All she needed to know whatever feelings she had for Aang, and what feelings she had for Zuko, were not the same.

Whatever they were.

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