Katara gripped the side of the cliff, digging into the rough rocks with her nails, concetrating all her strength into climbing the mountain side. The first few peaks of the Fire Nation temple were peeking over the ridge but she was still struggling to the top; Zuko, a yard or so ahead of her, took hold of a rock and swung himself up onto the ledge. His body was gleaming with sweat, his ponytail slightly askew and his muscles tense from an entire day of climbing. He leaned back, gasping a little for air, but he would not let his guard down for more than those few seconds. He knew Katara was in like condition, if not worse, and looked down the cliff side to see if she was still able to climb the jagged rocks.
The fire bender had taken an immediate dislike to the rock wall they were forced to climb. It was unstable, unreliable, constantly showering debris onto the jagged ground below. The sight made him think of the weakness of the heart, of all the stupid, wavering beliefs that man based his dramatic actions upon. There was no true, solid ground in their hearts, just as the cliff held no promise of solid footholds. Their beliefs were scattered like waste whenever they were challenged, or beaten down into shaky foundations that were easily swayed by time and turmoil. If a man was to believe, he must put all his heart to it - or, in some cases, save himself the trouble of future conflict and not believe anything at all.
The water bender's hand gripped the ground next to Zuko's knees and she gave a giant heave, putting all of her main weight into her right arm. The result was something Zuko had anticipated; the rock gave way and Katara let out a frightened little gasp. The fire bender reached out to grab her arm, but she caught a different rock and shoed him away.
"I can do it myself," she hissed, crawling back onto the ledge. Zuko's fury simmered briefly, but he was tired from physical strain and in no mood for an quarrel with the girl he had spared from death.
"Fine," he hissed back, standing and walked towards the gleaming steps of the Fire Temple's entrance. Katara followed him, though the heat was making her sweat and she would rather have rested before moving on.
Zuko stopped before the Temple's doors and breathed slowly. The great, arching towers of the temple had been beaten down by the elements, the roofs broken in violently from the decay of support beams and the ferocity of winter storms. Vines, both dead and alive, hung from broken windows on the higher floors and birds had nested in the shattered rafters; all the glorious, majestic paintings of spirits and battles had been washed away with wind and rain, leaving the walls stained with unnatural color and dripping mud. The doors to the Temple were open, for Fire Nation custom was to never close the doors of a place of worship, lest prayers should never be received. Inside there was a draft of cold air running across the ground, which sped through the warm day and around both Zuko's and Katara's bare feet, causing a shiver to run up Katara's spine.
"This is a strange place," said Katara quietly as she walked up beside the Prince. Zuko turned, glared at her, and walked towards the doors without answering.
As she walked past the great stone gateway, as strange numb feeling entered Katara's body; the water in her veins seemed to cool and slow in motion, as if this broken temple held a sort of peace she was yet unaware of. The faint rays of daylight that fell through patches of roof and open windows gazed down at her like the soft eyes of an unknown god; a delicate, caring gaze, something she hadn't seen in a long time. Maybe it was the impact of light into the dark, dreary temple that gave her hope of rescue, of seeing Aang whiz around on his air ball again, on watching Sokka yell at Momo and Appa groan in the background...of seeing her father, his face finally cheerful, his eyes alight and void of worry. It reminded her of the water rushing through her veins, soothing, comforting. It reminded her of her mother...
Katara's eyes watered up suddenly as Zuko slowed in the midst of the temple. He turned to tell her something but stopped short when he caught the gleam of her eyes. His world screeched to an abrupt stop and he stood there, dumbfounded, stuttering blankly to say something. It had been years since he had ever seen anyone cry.
"You - why - are you -" then the passion flared back in his heart and he turned on her fiercely.
"Don't you start crying, damnit! What the hell do you have to cry about? You should be happy you're alive -"
"Well aren't you the sensitive one, Prince," snarled Katara angrily. "Can't I shed a few tears forthe departed every once in awhile?"
This answer something Zuko did not expect. He thought she would go on about how horrible it was to be stranded on this island, how she would be stuck here forever and that she'd rather die than live in this filthy place... or something else about as stupid as that. He was surprised to find that after years of accurately predicting the actions of everyone around him, she was the one who eluded his conclusions.
Grinding his teeth in frustration, the fire bender reached into his pocket as Katara raised her hand to wipe her eyes. She felt a soft grip on her wrist and something cold was placed in her hand.
When she opened her eyes, her mother's necklace was lying in her palm. Zuko's hand was leaving hers.
She looked at him, bewildered, as his shoulders shook slightly. When his golden eyes met hers he seemed to falter and he looked away, squinting his scarred eye.
"You...that is yours. It's no use to me. The Avatar's long gone and you can't help."
It was as he stepped away from her he felt it, for the first time in his life; the soft, delicate touch, something of peace and comfort that he had always dreamed of yet despised for its beauty. Katara's hand rested gently on his shoulder and he turned, looking at her with one golden eye. But in his gaze there was no anger, there was no disgust. He was astonished, taken back by the magic that flowed through her, her subtle beauty, her perfect touch...
She walked up to him, face to face, making sure he could see her clearly. Something in the way his body tensed made her feel theflow of ragingfire that threatened tospill from him. It sparked on every inch of his body, the heat of his inner element, the fury he bound with fiery chains. Her hand was still resting on his bare shoulder, her clear, icy eyes staring into his scarred ones without fear. She could feel the flames pumping through him.
"...thank you, Zuko..."
Zuko realized he was shaking and stepped back, swallowing hard. He shook his head briefly, knocking all thoughts from his mind, and looked back at her with renewed intensity.
"We can stay here for the night. There are bedrooms upstairs that the preachers used to sleep in. I'll... I'll go outside and light a fire on the ridge. It's almost night fall...hopefully a ship will see it and pick us up." He left swiftly, determined to get away from her, and stumbled out onto the ridge.
Katara watched him go, trying to make sense of it in her mind. Zuko was terrible, brutal, apathetic to everything...but the moment she had put her hand on him he had frozen, gone wide-eyed. Could he feel the element in her the same way she felt it in him? A bender had to be like their element, or they could not control it. Perhaps the reason Zuko was so fierce was because he was fire bender...but no, that wasn't it. She had seen it, within the golden hue of his fearsome eyes. Something deeper, something that tore him apart each day and forced him into the mold of the monster he threatened to become.
But her thoughts faded with the falling sun and she ascended into the temple, tying the necklace around her throat and whispering a goodnight to the spirit of her mother.
You are weak.
Zuko threw his arm out and roared, sending a blinding flare from the ends if his fingers. The heat was intense and he struggled to keep it under his control. But the angrier he became, the hotter his passion, and the fiercer the fire that escaped him. Parts of his hands begn to burn, as well as flashes of skin on his upper arms.
You could've killed her.
Zuko thrashed about, tearing up the earth with both hands and feet, the fire consuming his confused body with the same ferocity it used to consume everything else around him. He moved so fiercely and precisely that anyone watching would have ducked for cover, fearing for their life. Moments before barreling into a large oak tree a sudden thought hit him and he stopped short, staring blankly at the broken, burnt bark.
No...I couldn't. I couldn't kill her.
The fire died down from his fist and vanished in a faint trail of smoke. His golden eyes stared at the tree trunk, as though hisquestion was directed at mother nature and he expected her to answer. From down the side of the cliff, he could hear the faint rumble of the waterfall. His eyes shook and he lowered his hand, both energy and anger disappearingwith the falling of the sun.
Why couldn't I?
He was dumbfounded by his own question. The sound of water thundered gently in his ears as he stared, blankly, his thought all focused on the unanswerable question. Did he feel guilty because of the Avatar? No, he had repayed his debt. And it would be much easier to travel without her, but...he...he could barely look at her, could not even imagine spilling her blood...
But I have hurt her, he reminded himself. He had grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back on the beach. That had been the first and last time he had mentioned the Avatar, and for some reason the memory of that fight sickened him.
Now he was completely relaxed, his arms hanging limplywhere he stood, still staring stupidly at the tree.
Why couldn't I?