Chapter 23: Lead Me Through The Fire

Heaven bend to take my hand and lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer to a long and painful fight

"So," he started, a twisted smile on his twisted face. "how long have you been planning this, Katara?" They were alone again.

A vise seemed to grip her throat, but she knew she owed it to him to speak up, to say anything, to try and justify herself. "I wasn't," she said. "I wasn't planning this—I haven't been planning anything—"

He laughed, dry and dead. "I might have believed you, two hours ago."

She just stared at him. What was there to say? He stood ramrod-straight, his hands clasped behind his back, feet shoulder-width apart. Head high, chin up, eyes like fire. He stared back, across the room at her. She was still standing next to the tent door, both hands at her side, one dripping red onto the rugs on the floor. The fire light threw shadows throughout the tent, flickering on the blood she refused to see.

What did she look like to him? Defeated? Sad? Sorry? She hoped she looked sorry. She hoped he could see it, because she really was sorry. Sorry about everything that had to happen, sorry about everything she had to do, sorry about what had become of the two of them.

Truth be told I tried my best but somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
but the cost was so much more than I could bear

In the silence, she thought back, back the entire long journey they'd taken. Back to that first night when he'd caught her, brought her into a whole new world, separated her from her friends and family. She'd had no idea what was coming to her. She'd thought she was going to live in a cage for the rest of her short life.

But he'd surprised her, completely blown apart every idea of "Fire Prince Zuko" she'd held in her head before their encounter.

So many things had happened between them that Katara had been whisked off her feet and thrust into a thundering maelstrom of people and events and deaths and lives. It had rocked her world and shaken her until all she could do was hang on and just hope to come out of the other end alive.

But here she was, at the end of everything, still breathing and blinking and talking. Didn't that mean you were alive?

Though I've tried I've fallen I have sunk so low
I messed up, better I should know

So don't come round here and tell me I told you so

From the minute he'd been born, Prince Zuko had worked and sweated and strived to be everything his father and his country had wanted him to be. They wanted him to learn to read and write when he was still a toddler. So he did it, staying up late and staring at the elegant calligraphy letters that began to swim in his vision, staying up so late until he thought his eyeballs would implode from the strain. But he got it. He read everything he could get his hands on, from centuries-old tax documents to present-day essays and the writings of historians.

They wanted him to learn to Fire bend, to control the flame so he could hurt people and protect others. So at age six he stopped playing little games with the tumbling orbs of fire he liked to juggle and throw and laugh at. He began to spend hours in the training arena every day, going through hundreds upon hundreds of drills.

Then had come the painstaking, back breaking eternity of meditation. His childish self had disdained the calm, motionless practice at first, wanting to be outside running in the bright sunlight. In time, under the guidance of his uncle, he came to understand it and even look forward to the rest and relaxation and escape from everyday trials that meditation could give him.

Physical, hand-to-hand combat he learned, suffering bruises and on occasion, broken bones from his father, his various instructors, and once in awhile his uncle. Swordsmanship and spear throwing and archery were all on his list of Princely Things To Learn. And learn them he did.

But the things that hadn't been on that list, were these:

Friendship. The ability to laugh and talk and cry with somebody other than one's self. The companionship of a fellow human being, to ease the sorrowing loneliness that came with life. Uncle Iroh had taught him this in his own way, but, some would say, Iroh had been much, much too late in Zuko's life.

Compassion. The ability to care and touch something other than one's self. The deep, undying awareness of somebody's else's suffering and the soul-rending wish to relieve it. To sympathize with others, to feel empathy for somebody else's situation. To be a good ruler, compassion was necessary in order to aptly care for and govern one's subjects. But somewhere along the way, Ozai had forgotten about this useless little emotion.

Love.

We all begin with good intent, when love is raw and young
We believe that we can change ourselves, the past can be undone

Katara tried to remember what she had thought in the beginning of all this. What had she expected of him? She'd jumped feet first into murky water, unknowing if she would ever come out on top again. She'd gone in with the idea of I Can Change Him and We Can Start Over, naïve little ignoramus that she was.

She'd thought that their violent history didn't matter if they could just be together

So what if their countries had been at war for almost a century? So what if their families were mortal enemies? So what if there was no chance for the both of them?

She'd truly thought they could forget the past and change the future.

What had happened to that hopeful girl?

But we carry on our back the burdens time always reveals
In the lonely light of morning, in the wound that would not heal

Just when they had found oblivious happiness with each other, he'd gone and left to fight in the war. In the loneliness of his absence, Katara remembered why she was here. Why she'd been captured in the first place.

To be used. A means to an end. A pawn in his obsession, his quest for something greater. It was something she'd conveniently forgotten when she'd started to—oh yes—"fall in love".

The cliché phrase rang in her ears now like a mockery.

What had she given up in order to "love"?

Her principles. Her morals. Everything her parents had taught her about Right and Wrong. Her mission. Her goals. Her dreams. Her friends.

Aang I'm so sorry for what I did.

In essence, she'd stopped being Katara when she Fell In Love.

One part of her deluded mind still tried to justify her foolish actions. Isn't that what being in love meant? Sacrificing a part of yourself for something bigger? Giving up certain things in order to meet the needs of the one you love most? And in return, your loved ones will give back, will accommodate your needs in a perfect symbiotic relationship. It will all work out.

Except it hadn't.

It's the bitter taste of losing everything
I've held so dear

Her pregnancy had been the first clue. The desperate realization of What have I done?

The second one had been Zuko leaving for war. The crippling hurt that something was more important to him than her. That she sacrificed so much for him but he didn't think the same. That she did not come first.

Aang did.

How ironic, to be so jealous of a twelve-year-old boy who held more of Zuko's attention than she had. In a secret, disgusting part of her mind, sometimes she knew she wished that Aang didn't exist. Because if he didn't, then all these complications involving Zuko wouldn't exist. Then her guilt about loving Zuko wouldn't exist.

But if the Avatar didn't exist, then a free world wouldn't exist.

And, she would never have met Zuko if not for Aang.

How ugly of her to think that way, to place meeting Zuko before free world in importance?

The third; that evil, lie-spewing letter that had bared everything to the light. She could remember reading it, the freezing cold that had stolen over her mind, numbing her to anything outside of Sokka thrown out and Juiko dead. Then the confirmations from her guard and from Kaz that had cemented everything that she never wanted to believe.

It was this barrage of blow after blow after blow that she reeled back from and couldn't seem to regain her footing.

Heaven bend to take my hand, I've nowhere left to turn
I'm lost to those I thought were friends, to everyone I know

With nowhere left to go, she'd gone to the last person on earth with whom she could redeem herself.

Aang.

In the act of freeing him, she tried to find a way to free herself. To salvage her pride and her dignity. To save the last vestiges of Katara The Girl.

Had it worked? That remained to be seen as she waited for the judgment the Fire Lord would pronounce on her. As she waited to see if Zuko would still love her.

"Talk," he said. "Tell me you think what you did was justified. Tell me you think what you did was right. Tell me that you're sorry!" And now he was almost begging her for her apology.

So she gave it to him. "I'm sorry." She hoped he knew she meant it, that she wasn't saying it just to satisfy him. Although wasn't that the whole nature of an apology? To satisfy the one you've wronged? To hope that two simple words would make right everything you did wrong? It was all about satisfying the person.

Until it came to the point when you knew there wasn't anything left in your power to make them happy.

Zuko seemed to seize upon her sorry little admission like a frenzied man. "You're sorry? Your apology doesn't mean a thing to my country! It won't mean a thing to my advisors and commanders when I tell them that I lost the Avatar because of you! It doesn't mean a thing to me!"

Strangely, she felt disconnected with all those things he was spewing on about. Avatars, countries, advisors, war commanders, Fire Lords. What did it really mean to her anymore?

She was so tired of satisfying everybody else's needs.

For once, she wanted to think about herself, and only about herself. Not the wishes of some all-powerful Avatar or whiny older brother or desperate Fire Lord.

Only Katara.

So call her self-centered. See if she cares.

"You don't mean a thing to me," she said. The minute she said it, she knew it was a lie.

And he hit her, so fast she almost missed it until the pain rocketed through her skull from the side of her head. She reeled, and didn't hold out her hands to cushion her fall. In that split second after the impact of his fist she felt the ground rising up to meet her and she let herself fall, thinking it feels so good to finally fall for real—

She hit the ground, but not before one corner of his writing desk drove into her abdomen, a fire spreading through her lower belly and into her heart.

She thought, oh my, as a wet splash of water broke inside and hit her thighs, the result of a fiery pain.

Katara lay there on the ground, body and mind numb, that hot-cold stream of water running down her leg. Is it red?

Zuko came closer, and almost as if moving in slow motion, he knelt beside her on the ground and stroke her hair gently; oh so gently.

"It doesn't make me feel better to hit you," he whispered as if it were a secret meant for her ears only.

She smiled and thought, You've finally figured it out, my dear. I'm so proud of you.

But all she said was "The baby is coming."

His hand froze on her brow. "It's too early," he stated almost stupidly. "It can't; it's too early."

She just shook her head and smiled.

Now he could see the wet stain spreading under her, seeping into the mats and rugs and pillows. Not urine—it was not the smell of waste, but a deeper, richer thing that flitted at the edge of his senses.

"He's not going to wait," she said.

Oh they turn their heads embarrassed, pretend that they don't see
That it's one wrong step one slip before you know it
And there doesn't seem away to be redeemed


Zhao strode into the camp, a shorter figure following next to him. The ex-admiral frowned at the sight that greeted him. The camp was a disorganized chaos, a jumble of lighted torches and shouting men. Was this what the great Fire army had come to under the rule of the new Fire Lord Zuko? Or was something else going on?

He stopped, his follower almost running into him.

Zhao grabbed the nearest passing soldier and demanded, "What is going on here?"

The terrified soldier took one look at the tall warrior in Fire Nation uniform who spoke with an awe-inspiring commanding tone and thought authority.

"The Avatar!" he squeaked. "The Avatar has escaped!"

A second passed as Zhao's face transformed from shock to anger to glee. This could work for me if I pull the right strings.

The ex-Admiral released the soldier who choked before scurrying off into the madness. Sokka threw off his cloak hood and stepped closer to Zhao. "Aang's escaped?" he said incredulously. "How?"

Zhao shrugged stiffly. "How would I know? I just found out, same as you did." The Water tribe boy was getting annoying. Zhao would be happy to see him go once his plan came to fruition.

Sokka stood still for a moment, going over this new information in his mind. Aang was free; that was good. But it might have been better if both Katara and Aang were in the same place at the same time. It would have made Sokka's rescue plan a bit easier. But no matter; once Sokka got Katara out of here, they could both go look for and join the Avatar.

"Where is the Fire Lord?" Sokka asked Zhao persistently. "We gotta find my sister first!"

Zhao shrugged him off. He had things to learn first. "We must meet with two of my contacts before we charge headlong into the Fire Lord's tent," he said brusquely. "We must know information and be prepared."

Sokka gaped but followed obediently. Be prepared for what?

Zhao ducked into a medium-sized tent, shadowed closely by Sokka. Inside were two men who were obviously related (father and son?) with one older and graying and one younger and energetic.

"Is this your… partner?" The older man stared at Sokka suspiciously.

Zhao smiled. "He is her brother," he said smoothly.

"Ah." The older man's face broke into a calculating smile. It wasn't pleasant to see, as Sokka shivered slightly. "Sokka. I am Huang, and this—" he pointed to his younger look-alike, "—is my son Sakai."

"Pleased to meet you," said Sokka stiffly.

Zhao, glad the pleasantries were over with, got right to it. "The Avatar's escape. What do you know of it?"

"It wasn't a one-man effort," Sakai supplied.

"Nor was it a one-woman effort, is what I'm thinking," Huang interjected, with an almost scary sense of glee.

"She's in the Fire Lord's tent this moment," said Sakai. "doing what, we have no idea."

"Except for the fact that the Fire Lord's wrath isn't something to be taken lightly." Huang said.

Sokka felt sick to his stomach. So they thought Katara had let Aang go, and was now in trouble with Zuko for it. Made sense to him. But if Katara was in harm's way—

He made to leave the tent, but Zhao's iron grip on his arm stopped him. Huang and Sakai looked at him with an open curiosity.

"No rash moves," Zhao said, pulling the younger boy back. "We need a plan."

"What plan is needed?" Sakai said, almost crowing. "He'll kill her for what she's done, no doubt about it. What else do we need to know?"

Zhao and Huang exchanged a look as if to say, these young people. Always rushing to make mistakes.

"We need a plan, Sakai, a plan to bring the Fire Lord down." Huang said.

"We'll have him go down in history as the Fire Lord who let victory slip through his fingers because of his obsession with one woman!" Zhao said, eyes glinting with amusement. "He'll be known as an insane fool who's priorities are mixed up."

"Insane is a good one to go with," Huang said. "We'll say the Fire Lord went crazy."

"An unfortunate trait that runs in the bloodline," Zhao mused. "Anybody born from the family won't be able to be trusted with the country."

"So we'll need a new ruler, a new dynasty!" Sakai said, finally understanding.

"A new ruler… Fire Lord of the world, once we get this Avatar business cleared up," Zhao said dismissively, then smiled. "How does Fire Lord Zhao sound?"

"With High Advisor Huang by his side?" Huang reminded the ex-Admiral.

"And Commander Sakai," said the younger man, almost swooning with the possibilities.

"It's a good plan," said Zhao.

"A good plan," agreed Huang.

Sokka stood stock-still, amazed at the mere idea that these three men were plotting the death of their monarch who was not three tents away. Ambition can reward handsomely, but more often than not, it kills.

A harsh, almost animal-like scream pierced the night air and rendered the entire camp silent.

Every thought flew from Sokka's mind as he recognized that voice that had yelled at him so many times for teasing her, for not letting her play with him, for leaving his clothes all over the house floor.

Zhao, Huang, and Sakai froze in mid-conversation.

Then the Fire Lord's voice rang out over the shocked camp. "I need all the physicians and doctors in here now," he commanded with authority.

Talk began and messengers were dispatched to find the healers. All four men in Huang's tent poked their heads out and in the darkness could see doctors wearing the white of their profession being hustled and hurried towards the enormous tent belonging to the Fire Lord.

Zhao and Huang exchanged one look and nodded at each other.

"You stay here. I'll take Sokka with me to see what's wrong." Zhao said solemnly.

Huang retreated back inside, smiling as he thought of what was to come. He almost wanted to be in the Fire Lord's tent when Sokka found out exactly what sort of condition his sister was in. Oh, it'd be a night to remember.


Zuko could see his life crumbling before him as he paced the outer room of his tent, the hushed whisperings of the five doctors coming from the inner room where Katara lay in painful silence on his bed. After her first ear-shattering scream, she'd fallen silent. Whether it was from strength of will that she refused to let a sound past her lips or whether she just found no need to scream, Zuko didn't know.

First the Avatar gone.

Then the realization that Katara had betrayed him.

And now this.

He was just about to flip aside the curtain divider to check on Katara for the millionth time (much to the annoyance of the physicians), when two new guests entered from the outer door.

Zuko froze, one hand between the curtains as the two people he least wanted to see at this moment came in.

Zhao, and Katara's brother. His archenemy, and the boy who most definitely wanted him dead for "defiling" Katara.

Which one was more dangerous?

"Zhao!" Zuko hissed, whirling back to face his unwelcome guests. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I heard you were having some trouble with the Avatar," Zhao said greasily, in a calm voice as if everything was right with the world. "Thought you might want a bit of help."

Before Zuko could retort that he definitely didn't need any help from an ex-Admiral fallen from honor, Sokka spoke up.

"Where's my sister?"

"She's inside," Zuko waved one hand at the dividing curtain, "and she's busy. You can't see her right now."

"She's busy?" Sokka's response was incredulous. "She's hurt, that's what she is! The entire camp heard her scream! And you can't stop me from seeing her!"

Zhao crossed his arms, a waiting smirk on his face as Zuko realized what Sokka was about to do. The Water tribe boy moved to part the curtains but not before the Fire Lord leaped in front of him and shoved him back.

"I said not now!" Zuko hissed.

"I don't have to listen to you!" Sokka yelled before scrambling back up.

Zhao merely watched from his corner. So far, everything was going exactly the way he wanted it. Sokka was consumed with worry about his sister. As a result of that, he was getting angry at the Fire Lord.

Love. Such an easy emotion to twist and use.

Zhao brought Sokka here for a purpose, Zuko thought to himself, watching the older man from one corner of his eye. There's something else going on here.

But before any of the men could make a move, a weak voice came from the other side of the curtains.

"Sokka? Are you there?"

Both Zuko and Sokka froze at the sound of Katara's voice.

"I'm here to get you out," said Sokka, almost weak with relief at the fact that his sister was still alive and lucid enough to recognize his voice.

Then she surprised him. "Not yet, Sokka."

"What?"

"Not yet. I'll be ready to leave in a few hours but I need the doctor's help right now."

Sokka's voice was almost childish in its questioning. "What do you mean, Katara? Can't I come in and see you?"

"No," her voice was firm. "I'm—I don't look too good right now."

"It doesn't matter—"

"No, Sokka." Katara's voice was getting fainter and fainter, yet it was still firm in her urgency. "Promise me you won't come in, no matter what you hear, until I say so. Do this for me, please."

Sokka stood so still, his eyes focused at the origin of Katara's voice, his body almost straining to get up and go. Then his shoulder's slumped in defeated agreement. "Alright. I promise."

"Thank you," she whispered through, so softly they could barely hear it.

Sokka slouched onto one of the cushions littering the floor, closing his eyes as he settled in for the wait. Zuko stood, head still cocked for any further notices from Katara.

Zhao grimaced. It was all going wrong at the last second! Sokka was supposed to find out about his sister's condition, then grow so angry at Zuko that the Water tribe boy killed the Fire Lord. Then Zhao would kill Sokka in a fake fit of rage at the death of his monarch. After that, both Katara and the baby would die of mysterious complications.

He hadn't counted on Katara intervening. He hadn't counted on how Sokka loved his sister so much that he would do what she said, even as she lay hurt in another room.

And Zhao couldn't just straight out and tell Sokka that his sister was pregnant with the Fire Lord's child, and probably currently giving birth. Sokka had to see with his own eyes, come to the conclusion by himself, to fully reach the level of anger needed to kill the Fire Lord.

Zhao uncrossed his arms and stood straight up. Fine. Then he'd have to do everything himself.

He would kill the woman and the baby first. Because it wasn't the brother or the Fire Lord who presented the most danger to Zhao. It was the unborn child. Because the minute that baby was born, every chance of the throne "accidentally" falling into Zhao's hands would disappear. Once the baby was born, he or she would be the definite heir to the crown of the Fire Nation, and Zhao would pass into miserable obscurity forever. Kill the child and the woman in one stroke, and then take care of Zuko and Sokka. He would do it now, fast enough so that once the Fire Lord and Sokka realized what Zhao was doing, they'd both be too late.

Zuko caught the quick flicker of movement as Zhao's hands moved into position for one of the many Fire bending techniques used to deliver a quick blow to a person's vital organs. The Fire Lord moved to defend himself, sure that Zhao would attack him first, then kill Sokka and Katara.

But Zhao bypassed Zuko without a second glace, hands shooting forward and letting go a blast of roaring fire through the curtains and into the inner chamber.

Zuko threw himself at Zhao, face bloodless in anger and fear, trying to stop the ex-Admiral, but the fire was already on its way and he was too late, too late.

Sokka stood up, leaping towards the burning curtains, yelling something Zuko couldn't hear but maybe it was Katara's name, over and over again.

A scream came from inside the burning room.

But it was a male scream, an octave lower than a female voice.

Zuko turned. Through the flickering remains of the curtain, he could see one of the blackened and burned doctors writhing in his death throes on the ground. The other doctors huddled in a corner, arms up to shield themselves from any further attacks.

Katara was on the bed, unharmed, as the dying doctor on the floor had taken the full brunt of the attack. She was pale and sweating, the sheets under her soaked with blood. She hadn't given birth yet.

Zuko turned to look at Sokka, at the expression on the other boy's face as he realized why exactly his sister was surrounded by doctors.

But Sokka wasn't looking at his sister. He was staring at Zhao, who was still on the ground from Zuko's attack.

"You—" Sokka could barely choke out the words through his blinding anger. "You tried to kill Katara!"

Zhao smiled, a hellish expression of evil and acknowledgement.

"I—I trusted you!" yelled the now full-enraged Water tribe boy. "You said you were on my side! You said you would help me rescue her!"

Zhao wheezed, still smiling. "Didn't you parents ever teach you not to trust strangers?"

With a cry of disbelief an anger, Sokka drew the blade from one of Zuko's swords on the ground next to him, and raising it high over his head, brought it down into the chest of Zhao, who was in the middle of trying to escape. The sword went into the struggling man with a sickly sound, and then the blood drained from Zhao's face and his dying eyes stared up at the ceiling. Blood foamed at the corner of his mouth.

Zuko stared at Sokka, who was panting, hands still wrapped around the handle of the sword. How many times had Zuko himself dreamed of doing the very same thing? Of killing his most hated enemy? Yet in the end, he hadn't been the one to do it. Oddly enough, he was okay with that.

Sokka didn't seem to register the fact that he'd just killed a man. Letting go of the stuck sword, he rushed through the remains of the divider until he reached his sister's side.

"Katara! Katara, are you alright?" He knelt, eyes staring imploringly into her face.

"Sokka—I thought I told you not to—not to come in," she gasped, breath hissing in and out of her chest.

"Zhao just tried to kill you! He tried to burn you!"

"I know, I know, is the—is the doctor okay?" She meant the doctor who'd been in the way of the fire meant for her.

Sokka didn't seem to hear her words. "I—I killed Zhao, Katara."

"What?"

"I killed him, Katara. For trying to kill you."

Her eyes, glazed over with pain, stared up into his face. "You what?"

Before he could answer, something seized her body, a contraction that had her screwing her eyes shut and shuddering, trying to ride it out. Blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth as she her lip in an effort not to cry out. The doctors began to whisper and surround her again, one of them taking Sokka gently by the arm to lead him away so the doctors could help her without distraction.

Finally, Sokka seemed to notice the swelling of her stomach and the blood staining her legs. His eyes widened in astonishment, then in realization as to her condition. He resisted the doctor's pull. "Katara!" he cried out. "Katara, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you trust me?"

But she didn't register his words. She was in another world, a world filled only with blood and pain as her body was seized with another wave of shudders.

"Katara!" But the doctor lead him out. Sokka could see finally that his sister wasn't going to respond to his words, and the news that she was pregnant and actually in the middle of giving birth seemed to numb him to the point that he followed directions like a dumb animal.

Zuko watched as the doctor gently laid Sokka down outside, the other boy's eyes staring up at the night sky in a way that was much like Zhao's dead look. Lying their on the ground, the Fire Lord could see the Water tribe boy begin to cry, silent tears leaking from the corner of his eyes.

Zuko turned away, then strode back to the group of doctors, once again taking command.

"We have to move her to another tent; this one's coming down," he ordered. He was right, as the flames from Zhao's ill-conceived assassination attempt were still eating away at the cloth tent. "Pick up the cot—one of you on each side—and then come with me."

Before leaving, Zuko pulled aside a soldier. "Get somebody to clean up the dead body in there," he said, jerking a thumb at his tent. "And get all my stuff out, before the whole thing goes up in flames."


Huang and Sakai sputtered in indignation as a crowd of doctors bearing a bloody cot strode into their tent, commandeering the space.

"What—what is this?" Huang said in anger. "We're not a hospital! Get out!"

The Fire Lord walked up until he was looking the older man in the eye. Huang almost shrank back from the simmering anger in his ruler's face.

"Zhao is dead," Zuko stated plainly.

The blood drained from Huang's face, and Sakai gasped behind him. "What—how—"

"He tried to kill her," Zuko inclined his head toward where Katara lay. "And her brother didn't take so well to the idea."

Huang was wringing his hands in desperation. "My Lord—my son and I never meant any harm—Zhao was obviously out of his mind—we were going to tell you tonight—we've been nothing but loyal and faithful to you—"

Zuko stared at them with an incomprehensible gaze. "Get out. Get out before I think of another reason to execute you both for treason."

Huang and Sakai both scurried outside.

Once they were far enough away from the tent, Huang shuddered. "To be truthful, I'm glad we left."

"Why?" Sakai asked. "They just took over our property!"

"Giving birth is a bloody business, son." Huang shook his head. "I wouldn't have wanted to stay and watch it."

"How do you know?"

"Common sense, idiot," Huang snapped. "And I've heard your mother whine about it one too many times. You were, apparently, an abnormally large baby."


She was surrounded by disembodied voices, probing hands, and a beating red wash that throbbed against her closed eyelids, rendering her head an aching mass of confusion.

I have a headache, she thought before that unbelievable contracting pain seized her abdomen and caused her insides to twist in a silent scream.

Not just a headache.

Katara opened her eyes to the sight of strange faces peering down at her. She was distinctly aware that she didn't know the name of a single one of them, but supposed that they were here to help her. Otherwise, Zuko would never have let them in. Strange, how, even after everything had happened, she still trusted him enough to protect her.

Her mind flashed back to her stilted conversation with Sokka. She'd been half-conscious at the time, unsure of anything. But if she remembered right, Sokka had told her he'd killed a man. Zhao, the one who'd tried to steal Zuko's throne and apparently had tried to kill her too. She didn't know what to think of it, as another contraction seized her abdomen. She was too tired to think about it.

"What—what happened to the doctor on fire?" she managed to squeeze out.

One of the doctors hovering over her looked uncertain before opening his mouth. "He was badly—he was injured, burnt, you understand—pretty bad—"

Then a second doctor cut the first off, saying, "He's doing fine. A few minor burns and blisters but he'll be alright."

The first doctor looked uncomfortable but nodded and then moved off, out of her line of sight.

Katara knew the second doctor had lied just to make her feel better. How sweet of him.

Another stranger came before her, leaning down with a concerned look on his face. "The Fire Lord wants to see you, madam. Do you feel well enough to talk to him?"

Katara wondered if she had the power to say no to the Fire Lord. She imagined what she would say. I'm busy giving birth right now, could you hold on for just a second?

The absurdity of it made her giggle out loud, which caused several of the doctors to look at her with shock and a bit of apprehension. Was the pain getting to her head?

But she just nodded and said, "Let him in."

In the next moment she felt a hand on her forehead and those burning gold eyes that had frightened her so much at the beginning but were now looking at he in worry and concern and was that love she saw?

"How are you doing?" he said.

She wanted to laugh again. Was this a bad sign? Laughing in the middle of childbirth? It must be a bad sign. "How do I look?"

"Bloody."

She sobered. "That's—that's not so good, is it?"

A shake of the head above her.

She tried to smile, really, she tried. "I'm sorry we fought."

His hand stilled. "I'm sorry too."

Another choked laugh. "We sound so pathetic."

A nod.

Was she crying? She felt something wet on her face. Maybe it was Zuko's tears, mixed with her own. "I'm sorry about—" her breath hitched from another seizing pain, "—about the Avatar. I know you won't forgive me but I'm s-sorry I had to do it." I'm sorry there was something more important to me than you.

"I'm sorry I lied," he whispered, coming in closer, his scarred cheek brushing her tear-stained face. He knew he had to finish this up soon; her eyes were beginning to glaze and lose focus, the pain taking her far away from him to a place he could not follow. "I'm sorry we couldn't have a happy ending."

A choked gasp escaped through her chapped lips and she let out a cry of anguish, her body straining to push and let go.

A doctor's quiet murmurings and gentle push at his arm pulled Zuko away. He turned, entire body tense and shaking before striding out of that tent, away from his love and away from everything his life could have been.


She hadn't thought it was possible to feel so much pain at one time. Had all the mothers of the world experienced this before her? Majin, her own mother, and countless other women?

How did they survive? She thought, hands gripping blindly at the sheets. Because I don't think I'm going to.

Zuko had been here awhile ago. She didn't know if he'd left or if he was still here somewhere. The faces of the doctors above her were mere blurs, gentle hands patting her slick brow or lifting her had to swallow water. Ah, that cool, soothing liquid slipped down her throat and she begged it silently to douse the fire raging inside her.

Another vise gripped her stomach, almost causing her to arch off the bed in reaction. Then, with less than a minute of relief, it came again, her limbs locking with the strain. Her mouth was open—was she screaming? She couldn't hear herself, much less the frenzied scrambling of the doctors around her as they began to realize what was happening.

All of a sudden, this was it, the utter mindlessness of the red hot heat and the squirm of life inside, the last final WRENCH and it was done she was free and off the ground and disconnected from life.

Distantly, past the drumming in her ears, she could hear the wet thunder, the drip-plash of droplets impacting on the tent, the rich smell of water and life permeating the air.

It's raining.


Zuko had heard one final wail from her before she'd fallen silent inside the tent. Then the quiet was replaced by the harsh squalling of a child. Zuko waited. It was all he could do right now. He couldn't talk or move or yell or cry. He stood outside in the storm, water seeping into his armor and his clothes and his very skin until he couldn't escape it.

After a million years, one doctor came outside. Red was splattered over his white shirt, Zuko noticed dimly. The expression on the doctor's face was one of… shock?

"It's a boy," said the doctor, who then looked like he wanted to say something more, but stopped.

Zuko continued to wait patiently. The entire world seemed to have slowed down for him. Even the raindrops fell slower, hitting his face before sliding off his chin and onto his shirt, dribbling through the cloth until the cold touched his skin.

The doctor swallowed, seeing Zuko's obvious anticipation. "There—there were difficulties. You understand—the child was more than a month early—not good—added to the injury she received that caused her to go into premature labor. The child is fine—she is, is not so—so good." The doctor continued to choke out the words. "You have a few—a few minutes."

Zuko walked inside, droplets clinging to every part of him that was exposed to the elements.

It's raining.


Sokka noticed the wet splattering that turned the dirt under his feet into sticky, grimy mud. He noticed it turning the dawning sky into a gloomy, dark gray. He noticed it sliding down his face, mixing with the tears he thought he'd stopped crying.

Then he saw Zuko. There he was, the Fire Lord, standing outside a tent, staring down at a bundle of something in his arms.

Sokka's heart skipped a beat as he began to run, faster and faster until he could see the color of the thing wrapped in blankets and held in Zuko's arms.

The Fire Lord looked up as Sokka neared, an emotionless look on his face.

"Is it—is it—" Sokka could barely get the words out.

Zuko held out the baby silently for Sokka to take.

Sokka, with more care than he could have ever thought possible, took the warm package and cradled it to his own chest. Then he looked down, and almost dropped the child.

The baby's face was all cream-colored new skin, soft to the touch. Except for one thing. An angry red birthmark that started at the inner corner of one half-closed eye, seeping across the brow and the cheek until it ended on the side of his face.

"How—?" Sokka started, mouth going dry. This was impossible.

Zuko shrugged, almost nonchalantly. "I don't understand it."

"Scars aren't—scars aren't genetic."

"It was a hard birth. There were complications. She fell before, hit the desk, which made her go into labor early. Anything could have happened to make it." The Fire Lord's face was a mask of stone.

Sokka didn't like the mechanical way Zuko spoke about Katara. "Where is she? Is she doing alright? Has she seen the baby yet? Has she named him?"

"She's dead."

A wet raindrop splashed onto the baby's scarred face, making him whimper in discomfort. When his bearer didn't move to reassure him, the child began to cry in earnest, the loud wailing that every baby's lungs puts forth. Pay attention to me! I'm wet and cold!

Sokka's sightless eyes just stared over the movements of the fussing child, unseeing and uncaring.

It's raining

-

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Lyrics from Sarah McLachlan, "Fallen"