A/N: I've had this scene bouncing around my head for a while. Feels good to finally let it out into the world.
This scene references Episode 17, Season 3 of Avatar: The Last Airbender. All credit and ownership to the creators.
It's too bad if a heart lacks fire,
and is deprived of the light
of a heart ablaze.
The day on which you are
without passionate love
is the most wasted day of your life.
-Omar Khayyam
.
When the play is over the group heads for home, their dragging feet and slumped shoulders a symbol of the night's events - well, besides Sokka, who is too wrapped up in Suki to be bothered by much of anything right then.
Zuko hangs back and waves them on when they stop to wait, claiming he's forgotten something and will be right behind. But as soon as they're out of sight he doubles back to sit on the sandy beach just beyond the playhouse. There are things bubbling beneath his skin that he needs to be alone to work through, and he can't do that within the clutter and chaos of their well-meaning chatter.
He only intends to sit for a moment. But then the moment stretches into minutes, and Zuko finds himself welded to the sand, watching the waves lap in and out of the shore in a sort of trance and wondering, for perhaps the millionth time, what he has gotten himself into.
"Want some company?"
He jumps, and twists his neck so sharply the muscles throb in complaint. Katara stands a few feet away, her hands clasped in front of her and a solemn, pensive look on her face.
"Sorry," she says when he doesn't answer, her features dropping at his less than pleased reaction. "I just thought… " she trails off and shakes her head. "Never mind. I'll go if you want."
She starts to leave, and Zuko forces himself to find his tongue. "No," he says, and she stops in her tracks. "Stay… please."
Katara hesitates, then shrugs and settles herself on the sand beside him. There is silence for a while, before she sighs softly. "So that kind of sucked, huh?"
Digging his toes deeper into the coarse sand, he gives a jerk of his head that could pass for agreement.
"Still..." she continues, in a tone laced with uncertainty. "We shouldn't let it affect us too much, right? It's just a stupid play. It doesn't mean anything."
Zuko can feel her studying him. He wonders who she is trying to convince more. But in the end he only shrugs and mutters, "Right."
"At least Toph was funny."
The corner of his mouth twitches at that. Zuko allows himself a brief smile, picturing the diminutive Earthbender as a huge, hulking wall of muscle. In one way it is absurd, but in another, he has no difficulty imagining Toph that way at all.
"I don't think Aang much liked being played by a woman."
Zuko's smirk stretches. Katara's words are something of an understatement; the Avatar had been fuming all through the play, and even now, long after he has stormed off, the air still prickles with his sense of indignation. Zuko can't really blame him. "Well, duh," he says, picking up a broken fragment of shell and tossing it into the waves.
"What do you mean, duh?"
Zuko finally turns his head to look at her. The confusion in her voice is mirrored on her face, and he can only shake his head at her naivety. How can someone so talented be so blind? "You really don't know?"
The faintest colour rises to her cheeks, and he wonders if perhaps he is misreading the situation. "Don't know what?" she asks, her gaze skittering away from his.
"That he loves you."
The words fall heavily into the oppressive night air. Zuko watches her intently, and catches the brief flash of guilt in her eyes before she manages to mask it.
Katara cards a hand through her hair, an unconscious motion. "I do know. And I love him too. Just…"
"Not in the same way." He finishes the sentence for her. Her shoulders slump, and her gaze drops to the sand, but she doesn't attempt to correct him.
After a moment she takes a deep breath, and squares her shoulders. "It's just a crush," she says confidently, and Zuko's eyebrow lifts. "Once Aang realises… once he understands what's at stake, he'll do the right thing. He'll unblock his chakra and enter the Avatar state and all this - " she makes a sweeping gesture at the bay, the water, and herself - "will be forgotten."
He tilts his head, studying her. In the moonlight, with the reflection of the water flickering in her eyes and her dark hair tumbling loose around her shoulders, she is astonishingly beautiful. Zuko thinks it would take a stronger man than Aang to forget someone like her. But he doesn't say that. He just shrugs and grunts, "Maybe."
As if his curt answer is a personal challenge, her eyes lift to his with a spark of defiance. "You'll see," she says, throwing the words down like a gauntlet.
Her spine has stiffened, and she looks to be waiting for his reply so she can parry it once more. Instead, Zuko turns to look back out across the bay. He lets the silence fill and stretch between them until it becomes a writhing, living thing, then says, "They didn't get you right either, you know."
He hears her suck in an involuntary breath. When she speaks, her voice has lost its bluster. "You think so?"
"Yeah." He chances a glance at her, and finds her watching him like a hawk. He tries not to let it distract him from what he wants to say. "You're not fawning, or a cry-baby. And your hope isn't a flaw." He draws in a deep breath; runs through the words in his head before speaking them out loud. "The ability to hold onto hope, even when it's darkest - that isn't weakness, Katara. It's strength."
She drinks in his words, her lashes glittering with unspilt tears. "Did your uncle teach you that?"
The question stabs him in the raw part of his chest where all his guilt and regret sit like an undigested meal. Zuko winces. "My uncle taught me everything I know," he says, dropping his head to scowl at the ground between them.
He expects her to get up and leave at the sign of his anger. But to his surprise she scoots closer. He freezes, unsure; when her fingertips reach for his hand, he only just resists the automatic instinct to pull away. Holding himself still, he watches as she places her palm tentatively over his. In the moonlight, the contrast in their skin tones isn't as striking as it is in daylight.
"He must be so proud of you."
"You don't know that." His voice is rougher than he intends it to be. He clears his throat and tries again. "You can't know that."
She sighs. "You're right that I don't know your uncle as well as you. But…" her hand tightens around his. "From everything I've seen, and everything Toph has told me, it's obvious how much he loves you. He wanted you to find your own path, and you've done that. How could he not be proud of you?"
Her words are uncannily similar to Toph's. Zuko isn't sure what to make of that. He stares at their interlocked fingers, holding his breath and shifting just a fraction to adjust his grip. She doesn't pull away.
He is struck by a sudden awareness that they may not get another moment like this. No battles to win or prisoners to rescue or Avatars to assist in saving the world. Just the two of them, alone, sharing their thoughts to the darkness and the moon. A furious need to seize the moment rises up his throat. "About what happened, that night in the cave," he begins, then curses himself when he feels her stiffen. She tries to pull her hand away but he tightens his grip and clings on. "I want to say - "
"It's okay, Zuko," she cuts him off. "It doesn't matter."
"It does matter," he responds roughly. "You showed me kindness and compassion and I threw them back in your face." He hangs his head, self-loathing cresting him like a wave. "I regret that day so much Katara. I… wish I could go back and do things differently."
There is a long silence. Zuko doesn't dare look up. He's not sure he can bear it if she rejects his apology, even though he knows it's nothing less than he deserves. On and on it stretches, pressing against Zuko's eardrums. He tries to focus on the gentle lapping of the water or the distant sounds of revelry coming from a nearby bar. But all he can hear is Katara's soft breathing next to him; all he can concentrate on is the pressure of her hand in his.
Finally, just when he's about to blurt out something, anything, to break the silence, her fingers move against his. "My Gran-gran," she says, and Zuko has to press his lips together to refrain from exhaling in relief, because her voice is soft and warm and that can only mean good things. "She used to say that carrying regret in your heart is like attaching an ice anchor to your canoe and expecting to hunt down a tiger seal."
He squints, trying to picture the analogy. It reminds him of something his uncle might say.
Katara tugs on his hand, bringing his attention back to her. "You can't change the past, Zuko. But you can decide what you're going to do about it in the future."
"I know what I'm going to do," he says, trying to speak with the surety of the leader he is supposed to be. "I'm going to teach the Avatar, and then I'm going to help him defeat my father and sister. I'm going to restore balance to the world."
To his complete surprise, Katara throws her arms around him. Zuko is taken back, and only just manages not to stagger under her sudden weight. His heart thuds, but before he can process the fact that she is touching him she has already pulled away.
"I'm so glad you've joined us," she says, and she is smiling, a warm, genuine smile that makes Zuko's heart lift. "I always knew there was good in you."
He feels as though some of the burden he's been carrying around with him for years is washed away by the sheer force of her belief in him. "Thank you, Katara," he says, bowing his head solemnly. When he lifts it again, her face seems closer, somehow. "I'm glad too. And I'm glad…" he swallows. "I'm glad you're here."
A brief flash of confusion lights her blue eyes. "Where else would I be? It's my job to help the Avatar too."
"I don't mean with the Avatar." He coughs, feeling his face heat. "I mean here. Now. With… with me."
Katara's eyes widen. She blinks several times, as if processing his words, then says, "I wasn't sure you'd even want me here, to be honest. After all," she arches an eyebrow, though her voice is soft. "Aren't I just a lowly water peasant unworthy of your royal fireness?"
He flinches, cringing at the reminder of his past self. "I don't think like that anymore," he says, praying she will believe him. "I mean it Katara, I don't."
"I know." Her lips curve upwards again. The tension lifts, and Zuko feels the cold steel bars clenching his heart loosen their grip. "Still," she adds thoughtfully. "That doesn't mean you always have to want my company either."
"I do," he says hurriedly, relief making his tongue looser than it normally is. "Want it, that is." He flushes when he realises how that sounds. "I mean you. I want you." Somehow, that's even worse. Katara's eyes are like saucers and Zuko winces, wishing he could rewind his own words. "What I'm trying to say is I like your company," he finishes in a rush, then presses his lips together to prevent any more stupidity escaping his mouth.
He expects her to retreat at his painful awkwardness. But she doesn't. She just sits there and looks at him, as if unsure what to make of his speech. The moon drifts from behind a cloud, and its pearly light reflects in her eyes, making them glow. For a moment, the sheer beauty of her steals the air from Zuko's lungs. This is Katara in her most natural element - sitting by the ocean beneath a full moon, with the push and pull of the tide at her feet, potent and primal. A true waterbender.
He drinks in the sight of her, greedy as fire. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he gives voice to the question that has been on his mind all night. "So…. was it all just their imagination?"
She blinks. "Was all what just their imagination?"
He swallows. His next words are not much more than a mutter, and she leans closer to catch them. "The part about you... having your eye on me?" He can feel his cheeks reddening, and wonders if his emotions are as painfully obvious to her as they seem to him. "Did the Ember Island Players make all that stuff up, or...?"
Katara draws in a slow, even breath. Instead of answering, she turns to look out over the bay. Zuko holds his breath, feeling as raw and exposed as an open wound beneath the weight of her silence. He tries to brace himself for anything she might say, any possible combination of words that could make up her answer, but -
"I hated you," she says at last, quietly, and he isn't prepared at all. The words slam into him, sucking the air from his lungs, and for a moment it is all he can do to keep his face blank. Zuko clenches his hands into fists, shame and guilt and longing igniting like flames in the pit of his stomach, burning away whatever feeling had been growing there.
He glances down at himself, mildly surprised to see that he is not in fact bleeding out onto the sand. "Right," he hears himself say, his voice tight, remote. "Of course, that makes sense, I didn't mean to - "
"No, Zuko, listen," she reaches for him, her body leaning into his, blue eyes wide and pleading. Their brightness breaks through the barrier he is hastily trying to erect around himself. "I said hat-ed. As in past tense. Did. Was." She blows out a frustrated breath that wafts across his face. "What I'm trying to say is that I never expected to be here with you, feeling anything, ever."
He waits, hardly breathing.
"You were supposed to be the enemy," she says. Her eyes glaze over, and Zuko knows she is seeing him as he once was, the menacing fire prince who chased them from one end of the earth to the other. He finds himself wishing he could reach into her head and replace the image with something, anything, else. "You were the enemy, until one day you weren't. And I didn't know how to feel about that. Then, after Ba Sing Se, I thought I could never trust you again." He flinches, and she catches the action. Her hand moves to touch his forearm, a soft gesture. "But then I realised I do trust you. That you are my friend, despite everything. And now…"
He sits frozen, heart hammering like a war drum in his chest. "And now?"
She drags her gaze to his. "Isn't it obvious?" she asks, and he wants to shout that no, it isn't, but she goes on before he can find his tongue. "Tonight, when Aang kissed me, I didn't feel anything. Even after all this time, it doesn't compare to what you've made me feel in just a few weeks."
Her words scramble in his brain. At first, they make no sense. Then - "Aang kissed you?" he blurts out, a nameless emotion blooming in his chest that makes him feel hot and tight and very much inclined to pull Katara towards him - but before he can process it, the rest of her comment filters through his fogged mind. "Wait, wh-what?" Zuko flushes, embarrassed by his stutter, but Katara only smiles gently.
Her hand lifts until it reaches his shoulder, warm and steady. She waits until she is holding his gaze, then says in a clear, firm voice that reminds him of a wave sighing onto the shore, "I'm saying it wasn't all in their imagination."
Oh. Oh. He's suddenly finding it a struggle to draw breath. Zuko watches as Katara leans towards him, closer and closer until her face takes up the entirety of his vision, blue eyes larger than the moon. Part of his brain wants to analyse what is happening, work through what she just said - Aang kissed her - and decipher the true meaning behind what she's telling him.
The other part just wants to feel her lips on his.
Zuko makes himself hold still, allowing her to traverse the distance between them. His fingers itch with the need to pull her closer, but he resists. He wants this to be her decision. Her conscious, rational, totally independent -
Her lips brush his, feather soft. A shudder runs through him and Zuko gasps, his hands shooting out of their own accord and landing on the soft swell of her hips. His thumbs brush bare skin and he feels blood pulse in his fingertips.
"Katara - "
Her lips return to his, and this time he responds instinctively. His hands slide up her sides and he pulls her against him, their mouths searing together. Zuko knows he should hold back, should be careful not to frighten her. But her soft warmth is so enticing, and the scent of her so intoxicating, that he quickly finds himself losing his head. When the tip of her tongue slides over his lower lip, he groans aloud.
She pulls back, eyes wide. "Are you okay?" she asks. There is genuine concern in her voice, as if she's worried she might have hurt him. If he hadn't been so worked up, he might have laughed at the irony.
"I'm fine," he says, trying not to sound too ragged. "It's just…" he glances at her from beneath his fringe, trying to read the emotions on her face. She is blinking owlishly, worrying her bottom lip. Zuko stares at the plump, glistening flesh, then drags a hand over his face and decides to throw caution to the wind. "It's just you're so beautiful and I want you so badly." He hears her shocked intake of breath, and winces. Good one, idiot. "Sorry. I didn't mean to - "
"I thought I did something wrong," she says. Zuko snaps his head up, incredulous.
"Wrong?" he shakes his head in disbelief. "No Katara, you could never - "
She practically throws herself at him, cutting off his words. With a grunt Zuko falls backwards, knocked off balance, and Katara follows him, her palms landing either side of his head as he sinks into the sand. Her lips find his again and Zuko reaches up to tangle a hand in her hair, wrapping his other around her waist and pulling her against him. When he parts her lips with his tongue, she responds eagerly, and Zuko groans again in the back of his throat.
When they break apart, he is breathing steam. "You could never do anything wrong," he finishes haggardly, trailing his lips to the shell of her ear and feeling her shudder against him. The sound she makes when he kisses her pulse point shoots straight to his groin. Zuko tries to reign himself in, afraid that the strength of his own need will overwhelm her.
He pushes himself up, and she moves with him, her arms threading around his neck and nuzzling the side of his face. The scarred side of his face. Zuko freezes when he realises where she is touching, but Katara doesn't even flinch. Her lips kiss a trail from his temple to his jawline, then drop to imitate the kiss he gave her against the hollow of his throat. He sighs and drags her closer, tilting her chin so their eyes meet again.
"You don't have to - "
"Shh." She touches a finger to his lips, then pulls it away with a giggle when he tries to kiss it. The sound is like an elixir, and Zuko forgets about being embarrassed, forgets that he never, ever lets anyone touch him there; forgets about everything except the feel of her in his arms. He kisses her almost desperately, turning so she is the one beneath him, supporting her weight with one arm and using the lower half of his body to anchor them. His spare hand traces her outline, and he murmurs appreciatively at the softness of her curves under his fingers, gentleness that belies the strength he knows she possesses. She responds by clutching at the front of his tunic and dragging him closer.
Zuko is rapidly losing his mind. More of his blood rushes south with every one of Katara's moans, and he feels lightheaded and dizzy. When her hips shift to press against his erection, he groans aloud.
She breaks the kiss to look up at him, and he lets out a shaky breath. "That was a good sound," he says hoarsely. "I promise."
"I know." She smiles, but he catches a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes that sobers him instantly.
"What is it?"
She shifts slightly, and he grits his teeth. "I'm just… not sure I'm ready for that yet," she says.
Zuko nods, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "It's okay," he says, then loosens his arms and sits back, willing his blood to cool.
Katara pouts. "I didn't mean we should stop kissing."
He gives a strained laugh. "We can keep doing that, if you want. I just need a moment."
"A moment, huh?" she smirks at him, and he runs a hand ruefully through his hair, wondering if she is going to be the death of him.
"If you keep looking at me like that, it might be more than a moment," he warns, and her smile stretches, teeth biting down on her bottom lip and eyebrows arching impishly.
"Looking at you like what, Prince Zuko?"
He growls, and is just about to say to hell with his overheating blood and reach for her again when a sound catches his attention. He pauses, tilting his head to listen, and hears a faint but familiar voice drifting through the air towards them.
Katara hears it at the same time he does, and her eyes go wide. "Is that - Aang?" she sits up abruptly, like a child caught doing something they shouldn't. Her hair whips him in the face as she looks back and forth frantically. "Aang, where - ?"
"Relax," Zuko says tightly. "He's miles away. He can't see you."
She stills, then flushes, deep enough to see even in the moonlight. "That isn't - I'm not - " she takes a deep breath, then tilts her chin in that expression of defiance he's always loved. "I'm not ashamed of my feelings for you, Zuko."
He swallows thickly. Say something, idiot. He opens his mouth, but the words don't come, and before he can make them Katara is talking again.
"But Aang is really vulnerable right now." She casts a sidelong glance at him, as if afraid of his reaction. "And he's going to need all his focus on training for Sozin's comet. It wouldn't be right to distract him before the battle. Not with everything that's at stake."
Zuko chews his tongue. A dozen different responses well in his chest, but in the end he only clenches his teeth and gives a jerk of his head. "Right." He gets to his feet, glaring in the general direction of Aang's voice. "Of course."
Katara rises too, her movements smooth and graceful. Zuko can sense her trying to catch his eye, but he stares resolutely into the distance. "Zuko…" she begins, and he hates the new note of uncertainty in her voice. The knowledge that he has just spoiled something rare and precious stews like acid in his gut. He wants to turn and take her in his arms, to kiss her soft lips and feel her melt against him like she had moments ago. Before the Avatar interrupted. Before reality came crashing back around his ears.
Instead he stands there, stiff and awkward, letting the chill of the night steal the heat from his blood. "It's fine," he hears himself say in a cold voice.
Katara shifts restlessly. "Zuko I - "
"I said it's fine," he snaps, spinning to face her. His gaze lingers just long enough to take in her kiss-swollen lips and tousled hair, before he averts his eyes and glares into the darkness. "You're right. The war is more important. We can't afford for Aang to be distracted. Besides," he adds, tasting bitterness in his mouth. "Who'd believe it anyway? The Avatar's waterbender kissing the disgraced prince of the Fire Nation?" He gives a humourless laugh. "It's ridiculous."
"Zuko - "
He turns away, not wanting her to see the expression that must be showing on his face. The Avatar's voice is louder now, close enough to make out the three clear syllables of Katara's name. He must be hurrying back in their direction. Zuko wonders if Aang will try to kiss Katara later, and if she'll let him, then grits his teeth as a wave of jealousy washes over him that is terrifying in its potency.
"Zuko - " Katara tries again, and he feels her hand fall on his shoulder. He shrugs off her touch without turning.
"You should go. Quickly, before Aang gets here."
There is a long silence, and he hears her sigh. "Okay," she says in a small voice. "If that's what you want."
Zuko closes his eyes, listening but not really hearing the gentle swell of the tide coming into shore. It's hard to believe he was holding Katara against him just moments ago, feeling the tremors course through her body at his touch; that it was only a few minutes since he lost himself in her wide blue eyes, drowning in their depths as she offered him a forgiveness he'd never thought he could deserve...
And now? You're ruining things, as usual. The voice is Azula's, snide and mocking as it slinks into his mind. Just like you ruin everything. Honestly Zuko, is there anything in life you can't turn into an embarrassing failure? The Avatar, Uncle Iroh, now this -
"Shut UP!" he yells, the loudness of his own voice making him jump. It is like a slap to the face, and he blinks, awareness of where he is crashing over him. The stupidity of his reaction, of letting his jealousy of the Avatar get between the one good moment, the one beautiful thing that has walked into his life, crests over him, and he spins around so fast he stumbles.
"Katara!" he calls out her name, ready to apologise, to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness for the stupid way he has behaved.
But in the pale flood of moonlight that blankets Ember Island's shoreline, Katara is nowhere to be seen.
A/N: I'd love to know what you think. Peace and love 3
