Disclaimer: How much do I own? Let me count the ways: none, zero, zilch, nothing, invalid, quantity x over zero, nichts, equal to the number of gills on my throat, greater than negative twelve and less than zero...

AN: You guys are great. I'm posting this chapter a bit early, thanks to lots of influence from a friend...who has kindly noticed that I'm not too fond of Jet. And, as the reviews illustrate, neither are you. But honestly, could Zuko have killed him like that? When he was (relatively) helpless and wounded? As much as I would have cheered him on, it would not have ended well. So he remains on the loose... Oh yes, and I've got an extra segment at the end of the chapter. It has no relevence to the story, so don't confuse it for anything important, but it would make no sense by itself. Read at your own risk.

AN: Okay, I'm reposting this. If you liked the part with Michael J. Fox (which had absolutely NO relevence to the story. It never happened. It was an idle musing that my eighteen year old brother had me post. DON'T CONFUSE IT WITH THE REST OF THE STORY!) You can find it in the Avatar's Guide to Problem Solving, which has just been converted into my official Omake/Spoof file (Which is what it was in the first place...).

Sorry about the confusion.

Chapter 9

Zuko released Katara, gently lowering her to the ground at the water's edge.

"Are you all right?" he asked her through the fabric screen that covered his mouth.

"I'm fine," Katara lied. She was obviously hurt - several bruises and burns flecked her skin, her clothes had been irreparably charred. Of course, he wasn't much better - his own clothes were burnt and stained crimson, the gashes on his back and side had reopened, and new burns marred his arms and legs and face. Fresh scratches thatched his arms as well, where Katara had tried to fight him a few minutes before. She looked at these with remorse.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry about..."

"Don't worry about it," Zuko insisted. "You were panicked. You didn't know what you were doing."

"I'm still sorry," she said, then hesitated. "Do you mind if I try something?" She stepped into the water until her feet were submerged.

"Go ahead." Zuko was intrigued now. Whatever she was planning, it involved Waterbending, and that was always fascinating. The movements that accompanied the art were spellbinding, perfectly smooth, graceful and serene...It suited her perfectly.

His wounds faded from his mind as he watched her pull a small sphere from the water, no larger than a pearl. She stepped forward and reached for Zuko, allowing her hand to hover just above his scored arm. Zuko watched in wonder as a cool tingling sensation spread through his wrist, intensifying in places where his skin had been broken or burned. Katara's eyes were narrowed in concentration as she moved her hands slowly across his arm, soothing away the pain of his injuries. The wounds still remained, though the water in her hand cleaned them of blood and debris, and they felt far more comfortable. After a few minutes, she stopped, finished with his arms, and offered him a hesitant smile.

"Is that any better?" she asked. Zuko nodded contentedly.

"It's perfect. Did you make that up on your own?" He had not forgotten her water purifying trick. Katara shook her head.

"Aang taught me. He learned it at the North Pole...It's supposed to speed healing..." she hesitated, and a blush began to creep across her cheeks. "...And can you take off your shirt for me?" Zuko was again reminded of how cute Katara could be when she was embarrassed. She didn't need to explain herself, but the request was awkward. Obediently, Zuko removed the now ragged garment. "Thanks..."

Zuko couldn't help smiling at himself. Katara was making a noticeable effort not to stare at his bare chest as she drew her hands across his wounds. She had seen him without his shirt before, but it had been a rather desperate situation, and modesty hadn't been much of a concern at the time. But her reaction was still quite satisfying.

Zuko made a mental note to keep up with his training.

Katara shifted her efforts to his back, soothing the wounds he had suffered during his capture. She followed the injuries to his shoulders, to his neck. Zuko bowed his head, allowing her to easily reach the knot that had formed on his skull, and better treat the fewer scratches that crossed his face. Her fingers danced just above his cheeks, but he could feel their cool ambiance within him. His eyes closed, his entire being suffused with comfort and peace.

For a moment he was blind to the harsh world, deaf to the roaring of the forest as it burned around them. They didn't matter. Nothing mattered, except for the two of them. And there was nothing in the world that could bring them apart.

As though she could read his thoughts, Katara rose onto her toes, bestowing a soft kiss on his lips, as mercurial as a melting snowflake. His eyes flickered open, gazing reverently into her clear eyes, and he leaned forward, more than happy to return her gesture.

"There you are!" The Avatar's voice froze him, a breath away from Katara, and pulled them both from the moment of serenity, reawakening reality. Zuko felt an unusual mixture of disappointment and relief to see Aang climbing across the creek's bank towards them. Katara's face had gained a rather cute blush in the last instant, and she was trying to compose herself. "Are you guys all right?"

"For the most part," Zuko took the liberty of answering.

"Did you run into Jet?"

"No. Did you?"

"Not yet. But he could be anywhere," he paused, suddenly noticing his friend's incriminating position. "Zuko, what happened to your shirt?"

"Nothing," Zuko said hastily, grabbing the garment from the ground.

"Right...you might want to put it back on before Sokka finds us." He sent Zuko a sidelong glance that reminded the Prince oddly of his uncle. Zuko shrugged and donned the shredded shirt, returning to his customary distance from Katara.

"Speaking of which," he said. "Does he have any idea where we are?"

"Not really. But he's with Appa, so it should work out." Zuko didn't really want to ask what the flying bison had to do with anything, considering that the sky was barely visible through the fiery canopy.

"That won't make much of a difference," Katara pointed out. "If Appa can't land. We'll need to find a clearing or something."

A shadow emerged from the smoldering remains of Jet's hideout, fingering a small vial. Jet approached it, frustration etched across his features. One of his arms hung uselessly at his side.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. The other figure only examined the vial placidly, most of its face obscured by a silk mask.

"Amazing," it observed idly, turning the vial to examine from all angles. "The kinds of things that can survive such a fire..."

"You were here the entire time!" Jet seethed. "Why didn't you stop him? You wanted him dead, didn't you? Why didn't you-"

"I did not interfere because I chose not to," the other said calmly. "I have no use for his corpse just yet. And, if I recall, it was your responsibility to keep him imprisoned."

"The chains you gave me broke! You said they would be able to hold him!" The other figure rolled its eyes and tossed a mass of steel cord at his feet. The bonds were scorched, but otherwise undamaged.

"You have no need to blame me for your faulty knot work."

"You told me that he'd be helpless. That he wouldn't fight back."

"I said no such thing. Only that the girl is his weakness. A fact which, may I note, proved more than true. While you threatened her, he was harmless. While you had her with you, he wouldn't dare touch you. Yet you chose to let her run off."

"And the things you told me to say-"

"I never instructed you to say anything to the girl. I gave you information. How you chose to use it was your own blunder. Knowledge," the figure observed sagely, drawing a sword with feline grace, examining the weapon. "Is a deadlier weapon than the sharpest blade." It turned its cold, dark eyes to the rebel. "You have nobody to blame for your failures except yourself."

"You promised that the Fire Nation wouldn't touch the valley."

"But it didn't. Prince Zuko was exiled two and a half years ago. In fact, there is currently a handsome bounty on his head, to be paid by none other than the Fire Lord."

"You're working for him?" Jet demanded.

"Funny. A few minutes ago, you weren't concerned about my employer."

"You filthy traitor! How dare you help the Fire Nation? How dare you use me-" the figure laughed.

"That's right. I used you. But it seems that you have proved yourself incompetent. I have no further need for you."

"No, you don't!" Jet snarled, drawing a hooked sword with his uninjured hand. "You're going to fix this. You're going to pay for what you did."

"You are out of time. Goodbye, Jet."

"Katara!" Sokka cried, nearly tackling his sister as he rushed forward to hug her. "You're alive!" He had been planning to say 'you're all right,' but that phrase didn't exactly qualify. Burns, cuts, and a very large bruise on her side were visible through her thoroughly shredded clothes. Her hair had become a few inches shorter in the last few hours, when the end of her braid strayed into the fires.

But who cares what she looks like? She's alive!

Zuko was in an equally ragged state, though the cut on his side had finally stopped bleeding. Aang was significantly better off, with only a few minor burns and singed clothes.

He wasted no time in gathering bandages from their supplies and beginning to wrap Zuko's wounds. Meanwhile Aang tended to Katara, using some Waterbending technique he had learned at the North Pole. Sokka privately swore never to shortchange any form of Bending again. Aang, Zuko, and Katara's painful coughing was remedied when they had something to drink. Sokka and Aang helped the other two into Appa's saddle, and they took to the air.

It didn't take long for Zuko and Katara to explain what had happened...though they didn't add any unnecessary details about the more incriminating moments.

Katara, especially, wasn't excited about telling anyone how many times she had allowed Jet to kiss her. It had been necessary-she had needed Jet to lower his guard before she could escape, but there was nothing comfortable about his zealous affection. Every time he touched her, every fierce kiss he planted on her skin, was rewarded with a deceptive smile. She tried to play into the illusion, thinking only of Zuko, of his reserved adoration and his gentle lips... Jet certainly had charisma, but he didn't respect her.

He felt nothing, really, except bitterness and anger and infatuation and spite. The loss of his parents had mutilated his heart and left a hideous scar on his soul. Yet, as much as Katara tried, she couldn't bring herself to honestly hate him.

She pitied him. Feared him.

But she couldn't really hate him.

"What's going on?" Zuko asked several hours later, as Appa was beginning to descend from the protective cover of clouds. He kept his voice soft, so not to wake Katara, who was now draped comfortably across him in the confines of sleep. Amazingly enough, Sokka had allowed the proximity. It seemed that his opinion of Zuko had softened slightly in the last few hours.

"We need more supplies," Sokka pointed out from the bison's head. "And there's a town down there."

"Is it that urgent?" He was far from admitting it, but Zuko wanted to put as much distance between Katara and Jet as possible.

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Aang chimed in. "Your clothes are in shreds, and we don't have any spare sets. And we're out of bandages, and aloe, too."

"And we don't have much food left either," Sokka added.

Typical... Zuko thought idly.

A bison in the sky wasn't difficult to follow; it flew in a generally straight line, high over smooth terrain.

Cold eyes traced the beast's path through the heavens, pausing for a moment to glance at its destination.

A small town, at a crossroad. Large enough to allow four teenagers to lose themselves in a crowd. Small enough to avoid the Fire Nation's suspicion.

The shadowy figure spurred its mount into a gallop. It would take at least a day's hard ride to catch up to the Avatar, but it was now clear that reaching the small group was likely.

It wasn't perfect.

But it was all too satisfying.