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Katara's glad Blue's putting her through drills tonight. She's desperate for the chance to turn her brain off, simply move between the stances he's been teaching her. Silence isn't something she's used to valuing, not when she was growing up in a community so small she could hear the newborns crying from her tent. Not now while sharing the small Earth City house with three rambunctious teenagers. Quiet comes with sleep. Wishing for it makes her stomach curdle. The last time she truly had silence to value was when she was locked in a tiny room with shackles on her hands. And then without shackles, but still silence would stretch between Pai Sho moves.

Zuko would whittle those long hours down as he read scrolls in his rock-salt rasp, lulling her into light sleep.

Blue's fist slips through her loose guard and stops just short of cutting up into her solar plexus, the tips of his fingers resting against her soft belly. He cuts her a look, then decides she hasn't learned her lesson and closes the hand into a tight, precise jab up into her stomach.

"Shit," she wheezes, moving back. That, more than her lax attention, causes Blue to start up. She can practically feel his wide, surprised expression behind the mask as she waves him off. "I'm fine. I'm fine. It's not that."

He ignores her and takes hold of her shoulders, pulling her up from her bent over position. Miming with his hand, he moves it up from stomach to chest to mimic his breathing in a smooth pattern, guiding her through the instinct to bend back over and gasp instead of keeping her airwaves straight and unobstructed.

She's a waterbender, she should know a hose with a kink in it can't run. But breathing is a firebenders domain, never something she's concerned herself with beyond her stamina for training.

"Okay, I'm fine." She pushes him back with a hand to his chest when he tries to stay. "I said I'm fine. Let's get back to training."

Blue crosses his arms, shaking his head.

"I said I'm fine. I can keep going," Katara gets out through gritted teeth.

He shakes his head again.

"Fine!" she snaps. "So, we're done with training? We can stop wasting our time going through stances I already know." She straightens up. "I want to go to the Lower Ring."

Blue actually laughs at her.

"You think I can't? You've been teaching me this for a few weeks, and it's not like I couldn't defend myself before. I think I'm more than ready to go out there."

Blue stops laughing when he realizes she's serious. Shaking his head more firmly this time, he makes an X across his chest with his arms.

Defensiveness rises in Katara, hot and ugly. "So, you'd rather keep coddling me? Don't you have duties you need to attend to in the Lower Ring?"

Blue shrugs, tilting his hand back and forth in his so-so gesture. Of course, it's all on his time. Whatever he decides is right or wrong, no real justice system he operates on, just whatever's caught his attention.

The idea that she's distracting him reignites all the frustration she's been carrying around for three days, ever since she ran out of Pao's. The fact she hasn't seen any Dai Li agents since is not a comfort. She'll wake in cold sweats after nightmares of waves of green and black bursting through the walls of their temporary home to swallow her, Sokka, Aang and Toph until there's nothing but a flat, listless sea. No sign they were ever there at all.

And now Blue is noticing how slow she's moving, how unfocused she is even as she pulls him away from his duties. Distracts him from the people of Ba Sing Se who really need him.

"We can go find some," she insists. It makes her feel sick, the idea someone out there might need him and she's keeping him busy.

Blue shakes his head again.

"Then I'll go find them myself. This city's big enough for two guardians. You take your ring and I'll take mine. The Blue Spirit and… and…" She can't think of a name right now, she's too worked up. Besides, these legends have ways of starting themselves.

She goes to move past him, but Blue steps into her path. She sees his tight shoulders, hands out and ready to catch her, and goes up onto her toes. He sees, adjusts his footing into something he hasn't shown her before. Likely for this very reason. But in teaching her to move, he's made the time to teach her how to escape.

She switches back and bolts into the end of the alley. The wall blocking the row of buildings off from the street behind is lowest there. A quick volt and scramble, and she'd be free of him. She makes it to the wall, prepares to pounce. Movement from the corner of her eye flashes and she lets go of the top of the wall as Blue bounds off Kwong's Laundry and Dye Emporium to tackle her. His body smacks into her shoulders instead of taking her at the waist, but the momentum from his dive is still enough to take them both to the ground.

They push and kick at each other until Katara manages to scramble back onto her feet. But she's too late to make a dash for it. Blue's between her and the exit, and without a run up she'll have no momentum to get her over the wall.

"Let me through." Her mask is crooked. Try as she might, she can't seem to tie it as good as he does.

To her surprise, Blue straightens, standing sideways on to gesture her past. Wary at first, she puts as much space between them as the alley will allow. He's too fast for it to matter much. A foot hooks around her ankle, and she's landing with a pained gasp on her chest. Blue moves around her as she wheezes, blocking the rest of the alley. He doesn't offer her any help to breathe this time, nor a hand up, waiting patiently as she gasps and heaves herself back onto her feet.

"What in the spirit's was that?"

Blue shoves her shoulder. Hard enough for her to stumble back, but she grabs the wall. He presses, shoving again, reminiscent of all those times her and Sokka would scrum together on the ice. Except this holds all the contention of when their playfighting devolved into real scraps that would only end in bloody noses and their father and Gran-Gran pulling them apart.

"Stop it!"

Blue goes to push her again. She springs off the wall, ducks into his reach and shoves with both hands on his chest. A surprised "ooff," breaks through the mask as he regains his footing. He beats his chest in a two-handed motion Katara has no trouble interpreting.

"You want some more?"

They fly at each other. Katara's too mad to think about stances, protecting her center or where the tendons and ligaments would sit under Blue's tight black clothing. Nothing about this is instinctual to her, not like her waterbending. Hurting someone isn't what she wants, but right now she wants to show Blue who he's messing with. She's punching and kicking wherever she can get an opening.

Somewhere in the chaos she loses her mask. Blue rips it off, snapping the strings and throwing it somewhere out of their warzone. Dazed, ears throbbing with the burn, a spot near her neck aching from a strike she failed to block. Three nights of poor sleep beginning to catch up with her. Blue's not nearly as fatigued. He pushes, demands more of a fight from her as he aims for the soft flesh of her legs, bruises her arms, and combines mad frenzied rushes with delicate footwork that has her trailing after him.

When he ends the farce of a fight it's precise and so quick she knows with a horrible understanding of shame that he could have done it at any time, whenever he pleased. He backs her into the wall, fakes for her face. She's so worked up she forgets all composure and throws her arms up to block the blow.

It never comes, and when she lowers her arms, the tips of his fingers are resting against her solar plexus.

Sweat streams down her face. Eyes stinging, she glares at him. "Do it."

His own chest heaves. Her stubbornness alone provided his workout, his breathing deep enough to drag him in and out of her space. Without the mask, they'd be face to face with the way he's leaning into her, trapping her with his body.

She's no stranger to his body against hers. It's how he talks, how he's trained her. First in his way of gesture and guidance, the fastest way to get up to a rooftop or down a wall, then in how to disengage from enemies stronger than yourself. She knows beneath the light black fabric he's clear angles and hard plains of pale skin. Possibly underfed, but sharp and deceptively strong, like taut wire wrapped around a tree trunk.

"Let me go, Blue," she pants.

She doesn't expect him to listen to her. What's more of a shock is she doesn't want him to.

Luck is on her side. When he pulls away, he does it on a sharp turn, collecting her mask from the alley floor while she takes a few precious seconds to pull her sweaty hair from her face and wonder where that thought came from.

Especially when she tries to take her mask back, and Blue immaturely pulls it away. She tries again, and, again, he pulls it away. "Give it back." He holds it out of her reach, apparently not done with taunting her. "I said give it back, Blue!"

He bats her reaching hand away and points at her, points at the mask, throws his arms up in the air, all of it accompanied by cut off grunts and harsh breaths she knows are being forced out between his gritted teeth.

"I get it. I let my mask get taken off."

His shoulders go rigid before he throws the mask on the floor. He comes to her again, but it's with none of the controlled intention he usually imposes. His pointing fingers jab at her stomach, ribs, chest, and neck, then at his own – all the places they hit at each other. He runs out of places, but his hands keep moving, frantic but without purpose, until they lock between them. Frozen by his inability to tell her what's wrong.

But that's why the expression is two minds think alike. They don't need words.

Carefully, afraid of spooking him further, Katara puts one of her hands on top of his. "I wasn't ready for a real fight. You knew that, but I wouldn't listen. I shouldn't have made you have to show me."

He goes still. Beneath her hand, she feels his tension dissolve. A sigh heavy enough to knock someone down escapes the mask.

Katara squeezes his fingers. "I shouldn't have made you do that."

His head whips back and forth as Blue points at himself.

"We're both sorry," she says. "Except only I was acting out of spite. You weren't the one looking for the fight."

His hand turns under hers, holding gently but squeezing after a moment. When his head tilts in concerned curiosity, she knows what he's asking.

Her voice cracks shamefully as she murmurs, "I think I've messed everything up."

Three days of guilt crash down on her shoulders. Blue senses it, and tugs on her hand. He leads her to the wall she tried to escape over and helps her up before using Kwong's building to scale higher. He leads them to the roof, where she can sit on the raised lip and feel the wind across her flushed, sticky face. She's not sure how he knew being somewhere other than that cloistered alley would help, or if he was also looking to escape how suddenly claustrophobic those stone walls had felt. Either way, he sits in his resolute silence and waits for when she's ready to go on.

"There's a reason my friends and I are staying in Ba Sing Se," she begins carefully. There's so much on her shoulders, Appa, the Dai Li, the Earth King, the impending Black Sun.

Zuko.

She's exhausted herself trying to keep track of it all, trying to keep the threads from crossing and tangling. "We could have moved on the night after the Earth King's party, we have enough reasons too, and only one real one that's keeping us here. But now I'm putting all of our work in jeopardy because I'm not doing the part I agreed to do."

She gives a shuddering inhale. "Because I'm doing so much more, but I can't tell the others. They wouldn't understand what I'm doing."

She's quiet for a long moment, long enough for Blue to take her hand again and rest it in his lap. It's such a simple gesture, and so much more than anyone's offered her in months. She's ashamed by how badly she wants to lift his hand to her cheek, let him hold her up, give her something to sink into.

"I'm so tired." Her confession aches, like she's stretching out her legs after being bent for too long. "I'm trying to keep everything together but Aang's still devastated, and Sokka's so obsessed with seeing the Earth King he's barely remembering to feed himself, let alone help me. It's a constant battle to get Toph to go beyond pulling her own weight but I thought I was getting somewhere. Then the library happened and it's like she's shutting everyone out. I know she still feels guilty, even if she won't admit it. Aang was out of order to blame her, even if he was upset, and now he's desperate to do anything he can to take his mind off his problems. But he's searching for distractions, not helping with the workload."

Her breath has started coming sharp and fast, staggering in her chest. "Keep them fed. Keep things light. Keep Aang from spiraling. It's so much to carry and I can't find a way to lighten the load."

Blue releases one of his hands to make his two fingered looking motion at his eyes, before he reaches across and gently wipes a tear from her eye with his thumb.

"No one can see how hard this is." Her voice cracks. "No one wants to."

Blue's grip on her hand tightens fractionally. She can't let herself imagine he's doing more than letting her vent, that she's being listened to after weeks of shouldering so much of her own worries, biting her tongue because Aang's hurting, Toph's learning, and Sokka's working. As if she hasn't been doing all three of those things too and making sure everyone's fed and cared for.

She sniffs deeply, rubbing the heel of her hand against her eyes. "I'm so embarrassed. I shouldn't be wasting our nights with this. I'm sorry, I-"

Blue pulls her into his side, slinging one arm around her shoulders while putting a finger to her lips.

"I can't remember the last time I felt this lonely," she murmurs against his shoulder.

His hand rubs up and down her back, soothing and gentle. A presence. A rhythmic, warm reminder someone is there. No one's ever comforted her like this, let her feel heard, be held, without some lesson on perspective or moving on dogging the edges of the comfort so all that's left in the aching shell of her heartache is guilt for feeling it in the first place.

When she straightens away from Blue's embrace, she feels ten times lighter, like her shoulders could touch the stars fighting to break through Ba Sing Se's fog. She can't see his face, but hers flushes. "Um, thanks," she mumbles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Blue nods, and hands her the white mask. He stands as she fixes it back on and holds out his hand. After making a few adjustments to her knot, he takes off without a word, her moment of vulnerability tucked behind them. His warmth she carries in her chest like a torch connecting them as they hop the rooftops. She's happy to follow him, until she realizes where they're going.

She waits until Blue halts their process at a low roof, the district he's led them to cast in a long moonlit shadow. Katara looks up at the wall, then at him. "We're going to the Lower Ring?"

Blue shakes his head. She should have known better, but she couldn't help but hope he'd lift his tight rules. Though, she's sure if he did, she'd have felt more coddled than grateful. Perhaps he'd known that. Wouldn't be surprised.

Gesturing for her to follow him, Blue moves to the edge of the roof. The district officially ends at the line of buildings. Beyond a thoroughfare of back porches is a shallow moat bordering the Lower Ring's wall. There's no road, but the dirt path is trodden and rutted with cart tracks. Katara can see it from the paper lanterns hanging on the back porches, illuminating the many figures gathered in the open space. They chat and mill about, share unmarked bottles of dark liquors, while kids splash in the shallows of the murky moat water.

Her eyes widen as she takes in their shabby clothes and unkempt fashion. No one in the Middle Ring would dare look so out of place with the Upper Ring and its opportunities looming so close. "They're from the Lower Ring."

Blue nods. Their rooftop is narrow, but Katara's feet are much steadier than her first experience on roofs such as these. She and Blue perch in the shadow of the arch, watching the congregation of Lower Ring citizens enjoy the balmy evening.

"What are they doing here?" How did they get here was the better question. Upper Ring citizens could go where they pleased. Middle Ring citizens could slum it in the Lower Ring if they wanted. But Lower Ring citizens were under strict movement regulations. If they worked at any of the Middle Ring shops or factories, they were given writs to be shown at the border patrols. Children going to Middle Ring schools had to be picked up by assigned chaperones with their ID's ready to be scrutinized.

Blue points to a porch down the line of houses. Most of the congregation is gathered there, washed in the warm glow of lanterns bunched up. A center of sunshine to the pocket of dark city. She watches as more of the crowd mills towards that area, chatting amicably amongst themselves, but all of them hanging close by. She can feel the anticipation in the air, all of them waiting.

She waits too, unbearably curious to see what's brought all these people here, until the porch door slides open.

A woman strides out, ladle held aloft like a sword in battle. "Who's hungry?"

Two men, hands wrapped in thick towels, wrestle a huge, steaming cauldron through the wide-open door. The wood of the porch creaks underneath as they set it down before the steps, gleaming with a sweat Katara knows comes from hours spent bent over a cooking pot. They're met with an excited applause as the milling crowd condenses into a hodgepodge sense of order, forming what Katara realizes is a line. Bowl by bowl, ladle by ladle, the two men and the woman hand out soup and heels of bread. For the kids they have plums, nectarines and lychee berries rolled in sugar, which they scurry away from the adults like little treasures.

Afraid of being spotted, Katara reaches out from where she's ducked behind the high arch to tap Blue on his arm. "Why are we here, Blue?"

Having no such reservations, Blue perches on the fringes of the lamp light. Washed in golden orange hues, his mask and clothes so dark in comparison he looks like shiny coals touched by molten flame. His arm sweeps over the people who laugh, toast their bowls, their hosts. When he points at her, his hand stays out until she takes it and allows him to pull her up beside him.

From the higher vantage, she can truly see how many people have gathered for the back porch feeding. One in particular, standing head and shoulders above the rest, is a familiar, wide face. "How in the spirits did he get here?"

She doesn't realise she's said that out loud until Blue taps her on the arm. She points into the crowd. It's far to easy to pick the huge boy out. "That's Pipsqueak. I knew him back when he was a Freedom Fighter."

Blue looks at her, head tilted to the side.

"There's so many of them," she murmurs, moving her eyes across the crowd. They toast bowls of soup like they're a victory to receive. "So many who need more than what this city is prepared to offer."

Blue shakes his head. She's missed his point, though hers still stands. He gestures again, more pointedly towards the givers themselves. They're covered in sweat, the rags they've tied around their heads dark with it. One nurses an ache in his back from how long he's been stooped over, but he laughs and smiles with his team.

Blue gestures to them with one hand, then points back to Katara with another, before he brings the two hands together.

"Together," she guesses.

Blue nods, then flips his hand to face palm up. His gesture for a question. He wants her to see it another way.

"Not alone?" She tries, his point hitting her before the words are out of her mouth. If she weren't wearing her mask, he'd see the smile she has for him. "It's not just me out there. There are hundreds of people doing hundreds of small things like this." The indomitable spirit of the human will. Not even the Fire Nation could touch that. "Thank you."

Blue swings his legs over the thin beam, leaning against the arch and settling in to watch the festivities.

Katara indulges in the joy, catches snippets of conversations, listens to the children laugh and watches this stolen moment of peace and delight and full bellies for people who so often go without.

"We had evenings like this back home," she murmurs, afraid her voice could disrupt this pocket of charity. Then a man finishes his bowl and fits a fiddle under his chin. He begins a lively melody which chases the playing children, pulls the other patrons in with inviting fingers of swooping melody and a beat a woman with an animal skin drum picks up. "Our whole village would gather outside my father's hut. He's the chief, and even though he spent his days making sure his people had furs and food, he would take it upon himself to open our tent flaps and let an ocean of sea prunes spill out."

Blue chuckles huskily. He looks over as she settles down next to him on the roof. His fingers tap on his thigh, so naturally attuned to the music she's almost tempted to ask him to dance. He notices her watching and the rhythm stutters. The hand he was tapping rubs at his neck, and she realizes with a surge of affection he's embarrassed.

"I used to help him, until he and the other men left to go to war. Then my Gran-Gran showed me how to make the sea prunes."

Despite wearing gloves, a chill makes its way into Katara's hands and toes. You'd think for a waterbender she'd have better blood flow, but she's always been a victim of poor circulation. Her fingers could turn blue in a summer hot spring. But she doesn't want to disturb what Blue's brought her to, so she tucks her fingers under her thighs to try and get some heat back into her skin.

But, of course, he notices. With easy grace, he pries the hand closest to him out from under her leg. In the same action his other hand grips the bottom of his mask and tilts it, ever so slightly, up. Katara's not sure whether to gasp or ask him what he's doing. Neither, it seems. She stares as Blue tilts his mask up just enough to exhale one long breath across her cold fingers. Warmth floods her skin, both in her hands and across her cheeks, and she's infinitely glad she put her mask back on.

He inhales again, luxurious warmth following. A high whine rises from the back of her throat before she can stop it, becoming a gasp when something velvet soft brushes against her knuckles. Blue doesn't seem conscious of the action, pressing another barley-there kiss to the pad of her thumb.

Katara expected the clenching in her lower gut, the flood of warmth urging her to twist her hand around so she could cup his cheek and draw his lips higher, see how they'd feel against her own. What she didn't expect was the ache higher up, under her ribs, as she remembers the last time someone kissed her hand so reverently. There's no ship deck lurching beneath their feet and the spring air is flat and gentle, untouched by the storm that broke two people apart who were just starting to figure out what they were.

Except it wasn't the storm. Not really.

The same prickling sensation of disaster skitters up Katara's neck, and she jerks her hands back from Blue's grasp. He makes a startled noise, before immediately shuffling away, holding his hand out to her apologetically.

"No, you didn't- something's wrong," Katara says.

He goes on high alert, looking around with her as he seamlessly swings off the beam to get his feet back under him. She goes the opposite way, crouching behind it as she scans the crowd. But neither of them know what they're looking for. All they have is Katara's gut feeling. But she's a waterbender, she knows when storms are on the brink of breaking.

"There," she whispers.

As she points, a dark cloud of black and green descends upon the soft orange light. The laughter of the Lower Ring revellers dies as if candlelight is being smothered. Mother's call their children back to them, tucking them against their skirts. One boy protests that he dropped his gifted sweets, but he's shushed with promises of more later. Katara's not sure it's a promise which can be kept, but spirit's damn her if she won't try.

"What's the meaning of this?" The voice is clipped and so severe, Katara isn't sure if it's male or female. Dai Li are cultural police first and people second, their robes are symbols of power. The sex underneath is irrelevant to the uniform's cause.

"A good time." It's the woman who comes marching down off her porch, ladle stained brown and dripping a path behind her as she goes right up to the Dai Li agent. "One these people were invited to. There's no laws being broken here."

"The Earth King's decree states gatherings of this nature must have a permit before being allowed to go ahead."

The woman's husband is behind her now, a solid wall at her back. "He going to come here and tell us himself?"

The Dai Li agent's lip curls downward. "It is his right to decree the laws. It is ours to see it is followed."

Dissatisfied grumblings ripple through the gathered refugees. Katara doesn't miss how the Dai Li agents shift under the discontent. They're out in a greater force than their usual pairs. Katara counts at least fourteen accompanying the woman, and that's only what she can see. Who knows what's lurking in the shadows?

"Supervision is required. We wouldn't want anything getting out of hand." The Dai Li agent surveys the refugees with a disdain Katara wants to slap from her face. These people have just as much right to food, laughter, and community as anyone. "We will have to shut this down."

"We still got people to feed," the Middle Ring man growls from behind his wife. Huge fingers flex, itching for something to swing at the smug agent's face. So, not an Earthbender. Doubtful any free citizen in Ba Sing Se is. Anyone eligible to fight will have been conscripted off to the military front, or brought into the Dai Li.

"You have citizens out past their curfew. Their staying here breaks Ba Sing Se order code GP7-3633."

"So, the Earth King would rather keep to a code you Dai Li made up then see his people fed?" The man asks loud enough for the whole crowd to hear.

Discontent turns to hostility. Katara understands the Earth man's tactic and curses him for it. Numbers or not, she knows what will happen if this mob of non-bender's goes up against these Dai Li agents. Blue feels it too. He's vibrating with coiled anticipation beside her.

The Dai Li agent twists halfway, speaking into the ear of the agent beside her. He nods and relays the message to the other agents. Whatever she said ripples through them. Body's straighten as shoulders go back. Hands covered in stone level at hips as elbows cock and become loose.

"We have to do something," Katara hisses, turning to her rigid companion. "Blue, they're going to-"

Blue isn't beside her anymore. The rooftop is empty beside her.

Movement has Katara ducking back, looking frantically into the crowd below to see where the danger is.

"If you do not vacate these premises immediately, you will be taken into the custody of the Earth King."

"Go on and do it," a voice from the crowd yells. "I got a few things to say to him!"

"We have questions you aren't bringing to him!"

"We have rights!"

Maybe the Dai Li aren't as in control of Ba Sing Se's population as they thought. Not surprising; the less the Lower Ring inhabitants have to lose, the less they can be controlled. Even now, it's boisterous young men who yell, their friends banding around them while families retreat from the growing fire.

"Detain these offenders to the Earth King!"

The first wave of Dai Li agents surge into the cooking pot's light. Stony fingers grab the rim and wrench the pot away from the generous family, it's remains sloshing thick and syrupy over the sides. They heave to tip it into the dirt, straining against the many meals left inside.

A shriek of metal fires off the cauldron. The Dai Li agents trying to tip it over cry out, stumbling back as sparks ricochet off the bronze. The other agents spring into action, searching for where the offending missile came from, heads searching the stunned crowd of Lower Ring citizens. So focused, they miss another hail of fire raining down from the shadow of the wall, invisible until it strikes the cauldron and ignites in sharp pops.

"Search the crowds!"

But as the Dai Li approach, a line of pops burst up from the ground, cutting the agents off from the increasingly uneasy crowd.

Katara's head whips from the people to the wall. The moon's behind it, casting the stone in shadow. She can't find Blue in the mounting chaos, not when the startled cries of the citizens grow more and more out of control by the second. All she can do is follow the trajectory of whatever he's throwing to ignite the Dai Li's wrath. They jump as plumes of smoke and sparks burst up from the ground at their feet, mimicking a lively jig the watertribe sailors would dance to back on the ice. But there's no fun here as they shout to corral the bystanders, seize the offenders.

Katara's moving before she really knows where she's going. Sliding down the tiles, her feet hit the ground and she takes off at a sprint for the crowd. She catches herself right before she bursts out into the open. Blue's nowhere in sight, but she doubts together they could take on possibly twenty Dai Li.

She spins on her heel and heads for the shadow of the wall. If Blue's up there he'll see her, watch her back. The instinct is solid in her belly as she plunges into the water at the walls base. Sour refuse makes her want to retch and weep for joy at the same time. She was right, this moat isn't for drinking. Most likely it acts as a refuse deposit for the Middle Ring. Which means it has somewhere it needs to go.

Foul, grey water clings to her legs. Screams echo at her back. Katara focuses on them as she splashes noisily up to the wall. There, tucked neatly into the stone, five metal bars as long as her body stand sentinel between her and the Lower Ring. She grips them, hoping for shoddy work or neglect. But this is the Middle Ring and the bars barely rattle. What she wouldn't give for someone who could bend metal.

She wastes time with a glance over her shoulder. Whatever Blue's doing, he can't do forever. He'll run out of ammo, or the people will spook. Without a way out, they'll drive forwards into the Dai Li. Tui knows what will happen then.

Water thick around her legs, Katara asks Yue for help, then plunges her hands into the water. Waterbending is too fluid, too noticeable in a place built on the ethos of holding your ground. It's harder without the motions to guide her, but Katara widens her stance, deepens her breathing, and finds how to make the water know she's there. It sharpens around her hands, like she's dunked her fingers into a tub of knives. Is this how it always feels right before she turns it to ice?

In a ridiculous moment of clarity, she realises the only person she's ever frozen is Zuko.

Katara focuses on the cold, stinging cut of the blades she's forming, not the firebenders warm touch. Water slithers higher up the bars, until they're level with her chest. She remembers losing Aang at the oasis, remembers how weak she'd felt when it was only her against Zuko. Now a tide of panic rises at her back, pulled, and pushed by forces of greed and power.

One moon took Yue right from Sokka's arms. Katara will not lose more, not when she knows she can stop it.

The water slithers until it's level with her eyes. Katara squeezes them shut and, roaring with anguish she's not let herself feel, slices clean through the bars with a single clench of her fingers.

Eight out of the ten bars topple like dominos into the water. When she pulls her hands free, eight out of her ten fingers bleed.

There's no time to give it any thought. "This way!" Katara yells, sprinting from the murky water. "Everyone, through the grate!"

The pops and hisses of Blue's trajectory changes. Instead of keeping the Dai Li back, it begins to hem the Lower Ring citizens towards Katara's opening. Katara moves for the mothers holding their children to their skirts first. Her mask must be a mud splattered, deranged thing in the midst of all the chaos. She forces her voice to be gentle.

"Come with me, there's a way out."

"The Dai Li-"

"The Blue Spirit is fighting them. He won't let them hurt you, but we have to go."

The mother hesitates, holding her child close to her chest. "The Blue..." Her terrified green eyes recognise the name. She bundles the crying child closer, then reaches for another, a boy no older than nine about to be swallowed by the chaos.

Katara leads them to the grate and under the wall. She hates leaving Blue, but there will be bars to cut on the other side, she's sure. It's pitch black but there's only one way to go, and judging by the splashes echoing all around them, it wasn't only the woman and her children who followed Katara. She presses on. It's so dark she runs head-first into the bars before she sees them. The mask bites into her chin. She feels blood, ignores it, and grips the bars. They wiggle.

Thank the spirits for bureaucratic incompetence. With a forceful shove motivated by a little water, the bars give enough for the woman to slip through. Katara's starting on freeing more when chilled fingers grasp her own.

"Go," the woman insists, bracing her shoulder against the bars. She's forcing all her weight into the aged, rusted metal as Katara stands there, dumbstruck. "Go back for the others! We'll get these open!"

The boy is by her leg, twisting and pulling with all his small might on another bar.

Already wasting precious seconds, Katara spins and sprints back down the tunnel. Bodies press into her from the other way, crossing in front of the thin beam of light that guides Katara back into the Middle Ring, flickering in and out like screaming phantoms. She pushes her way through, praying to Tui and La these people can get away, not clog up the tunnel before the bars can be loosed. But she has to get back to Blue, make sure he's okay.

Exploding back out into the Middle Ring, Katara's blinded by a flash sailing over her head. She dives into the mucky water on instinct, watching the lantern burst apart against the bank, the thin paper going up like a dry forest under a firebenders hands. More follow. Blue aims for the Dai Li trying to rush the banks, more paper missiles flying. He must be off the wall, snatching lanterns where he finds them.

The crowd has thinned. Stragglers helping to keep the Dai Li back are what remains. Pipsqueak's roars can be heard as he pushes back against a tide of stone. One of his wrists is clamped. The other arm swings like wrecking ball at any agent foolish enough to try and get close.

He's amassing a crowd of them. They beat against the wall he creates between them and the innocent citizens. He's so focused on keeping them back, he doesn't notice the ones circling around. Katara sees the trap closing, cutting him off from the escape.

A lantern sails down, trying to warn the huge boy. But Blue's aim is interrupted by a stony fist crushing out the flame. Pipsqueak's window narrows.

"No!" Katara reaches for him and the water listens. She didn't mean it, but a wave crashes over the bank. It bisects the ground between the huge boy and the Dai Li trying to flank him, sweeping the startled agents up in a ruthless current. Water splashing against Pipsqueak's legs startles him back into reality. He sees the closing jaws of the trap, the Dai Li trying to right themselves, and the girl reaching for him.

Those small eyes narrow in confusion, then he's breaking, bolting after the last of the Lower Ring citizens into the tunnel.

"Stop them!" The Dai Li woman is roaring at her sodden agents. "Get them into custody or you're all dismissed!"

Katara's barely listening, looking for where Blue fell. Was he still on the wall? She couldn't pick out which splash would have been his. The water's not that deep. Or was he by the houses? There was too much flying stone to track, too many yells and screams for her to pick out his familiar husky drawl.

"You gotta get going!" A rough hand grabs her and hauls her off her feet. She's whisked like a leaf on the wind over a thick shoulder and plunged back into darkness.

"What-" Katara gasps as a huge shoulder blade jabs into her stomach.

Pipsqueak's pace is unrelenting, bouncing Katara all the way down the tunnel, except he's so massive she's ping-ponged between his back and the wall. Her ribs ache by the time he bursts out into the low light of a midnight encased Lower Ring, but he doesn't stop.

She can't see any of the other refugees. Everyone's booked it, scattering before the Dai Li can give chase. She should have frozen the tunnel behind them, make the Dai Li have to go to the nearest border. But that would give her away completely.

It would cut Blue off completely.

"Pip-" Katara cuts herself off with another gasp of pain. She took some knocks and Pipsqueak's pace doesn't slow for a good twenty minutes of running. She didn't think someone of his size could keep up such a pace, but the lights of the wall recede behind them, the night becoming cool and dark.

The moment Pipsqueak finally sets her on her feet, she's trying to dash back the way they'd come. She has no chance fighting the hand he clamps around her arm, yet she tries. "Whoa, girlie. Quit fighting." She doesn't. Blue might be hurt. He might be captured by the Dai Li. He needs her. She needs to get to him. "Katara, quit it for a second."

Her name freezes her in place.

A deep chuckle defrosts her quickly enough, but Pipsqueak turns as she whirls on him. "Don't think that mask can hide some of the best waterbending I've ever seen. Yet I've only ever met one Waterbender." His smile is shameful. "It's good to see you again. Freedom Fighters stick together I guess, the real ones at least."

She doesn't have time for a guilty trip down memory lane, not when she needs to get halfway across the Lower Ring. "Where's Blue? Did you see him?"

Pipsqueak shakes his head. "No, figured that was the point."

She shakes her head, already at the mouth of the alley Pipsqueak's deposited them in. "Get out of here, Pip. Stay low for a few days, you're not exactly inconspicuous."

He grins. "Will do, Kat. Hey," he calls as she's about to dart away. "The Lower Ring has too many people crammed into it for this to be forgotten, no matter what is or isn't in Ba Sing Se. He won't be left behind after what he did."

She's ditched the mask, and her black tunic. She can't risk carrying them around with the Dai Li rampaging through the Lower Ring. One stop and search, one forced look in her bag, and she's done for. She already waterbent, but if she's just out, minding her own business, they have little else to connect her to what happened. Logically, she knows she needs to get to one of the sky trams, skip the Middle Ring altogether, and get back to the villa.

Not until she knows Blue isn't out there on his own.

"Psst."

She freezes at the voice, but her hope is dashed when a small boy with mud on his pants creeps into the light at the edge of an alley. On closer inspection, Katara sees he isn't just dashed with a healthy layer of dirt. He's caked in the stuff. And it's still wet.

"If you need a clean, Kwong's is the best place to go, but who has the money for Middle Ring luxuries? Shaeko's due east of here is far cheaper." The boy recites this twice before he bows and scampers away.

Of course.

She has to force herself not to flat out sprint east. She walks jumpily, starting at every alley mouth. Blue would be ashamed of her lack of decorum. Well, if she finds him, he can scold her then.

Shaeko's Laundry hut is squat and wide, stained at the foundations after years of laundry spills. It doesn't bracket onto an alley, smooshed tightly between two other buildings like a large man in an aisle seat on the tram. She doesn't dare call out, not when Dai Li could be anywhere. She doesn't think she could, her heart's thumping, throat raw like she's been screaming for hours.

Where is he?

Her mouth opens on its own, the last shred of her control ready give up and call his name, until a purple petal drifts down from above. Katara's hands cup the last of its journey into her palm, fingers shaking around its delicate edges. She looks up, spots another like a snowflake caught in the sunset. It's coming from above Shaeko's, from the higher rooftop looming over the shabby building. She's climbing the front window before she can stop herself, hauling her battered body over the lip and scanning the next wall for footholds. Her nails bleed as she grips the stone. Blue taught her better, but her fingers are already bleeding, and a blue mask is swinging out over the edge, reaching down for the hand flying towards him.

They grasp each other like two pieces of a puzzle being put back together. His hand grips her arm and hauls her the last few feet onto the high rooftop. Her legs gave up during the climb, tumbling their bodies together. She grips his tunic; he holds her at her waist. They stumble together until they can right themselves on the flat tiles. Neither let's go.

"You stupid, reckless, mad dolt!" Katara scolds, his black clothes scrunched up in her fists.

He points at her, shaking his head as he fights to supress his chuckles. Right back at you. Their laughter holds the serrated edge of just how badly that could have gone. Katara feels the blade of disaster against her throat, and clings to Blue tighter. His hands go from holding her to wrapping around her. Before long they're clinging to each other, panting like lovers instead of two criminals.

She wants to take his mask off. No, she wants him to take it off for her. Adrenaline still coursing through her blood, matching the rapid beat of his heart against her hands. Her mask is already gone. Spirit's it would be so easy. But if even after all this he can't part with his secret, she knows it has to be about more than her. She can respect that, no matter how much she aches to know who's under the mask.

Fingers tilt her chin up from where its nestled under the mask. Though she can't see the eyes, she can picture the concern as he makes one of the gestures she's learned to read so well.

"I'm okay, Blue." She has to take a few deep breaths, but she is. "What about you?"

He's still holding her, though one hand has drifted up to rest against her neck, his thumb rubbing smooth, unconscious circles against her jaw. His study of how true her statement is is careful, unrushed, before he determines its truth. His realisation of what he's doing is a slow one. The gentle swirl of his thumb stops first, the effect running down his fingers, up his arm. He pulls away from the embrace entirely, nodding at her.

Their moment of near disaster which brought on his tenderness is over, with it the night. "I need to go."

He nods.

Neither of them moves.

Katara takes the initiative to go, but a hand snaps out, catching her wrist. Blue turns her hand in his then pries her fingers open. In her palm he places two flower stems. One is bare, the bud of the flower naked. The other is missing one petal, the rest a crumpled purple mess. Blue hisses when he sees what his grip has done, looking around as if he could find the fallen petal and put the flower back together again.

But Katara smiles at the malformed flower, fingers curling around it protectively. "Thank you."

Blue stops his searching, rubbing the back of his covered head with one hand. He takes the flowers back as she climbs back onto the street, needing both her hands free.

"Throw it," she calls up to his mask.

But Blue disappears.

"Hey," she calls. Those flowers were a gift. Silly and broken as they are, she wants them. "Come back!"

She jogs to the alley two buildings down. She's looking for a handhold back up when the fingers stroke softly across the back of her neck. Blue hangs upside-down, legs wrapped around the drainpipe above the bakery. "So smooth," Katara laughs as she realises it was always his intention to lead her there.

Blue's upside-down shrug is lopsided and ineffective, bringing another laugh and an unfathomable surge of affection from her. In the morning she'll feel soppy, and silly, and over-emotional. Right now, she laughs and blushes as Blue angles his body towards her, swaying until he's able to grasp the back of her head to steady himself with one hand, threading the mashed purple flower behind her ear with the other.

He lets go, swaying back. His thumbs up looks like a thumbs down to her. She shakes her head, realises how it looks, and nods as her shoulders shake with silent laughter. He nods back, then, unnecessarily adorably, waves goodbye.

She waves until he's dragged himself up and out of sight.

It feels like a blink between the moment Katara flops onto her bed and the mad hammering on her bedroom door. She groans, grabbing her pillow to roll back over. Sharp pain burns along her fingers. Smothering her yelp in the pillow, Katara sits up, looking with a stab of horror at the slashes decorating her slim fingers.

The Middle Ring. The cookout. The Dai Li showing up, and Blue…

"Katara!" The rattling on her door hasn't ceased. "Katara, wake up!"

"I'm up, Toph," she calls out, still staring at her hands. The slashes are deep where her fingers had wrapped around the bars and fainter at the tips. A particularly nasty one runs horizontally across her palm.

"You're gonna want to get out here, Sugar Queen," Toph sounds uncharacteristically anxious. "We have a guest."

Katara rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you, Sokka, and Aang can handle it."

"It's not just anyone, Katara." Toph never calls her by her name. Katara's bleariness, already fading, vanishes with the Earthbenders next words. "It's Long Feng, and he's asking for you."

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