IV

"FOOL!"

He grimaced as the brute-like thing struck him, trailing deep gashes along the side of his face. Blood slithered from the wound as she snarled, roughly grabbing his chin with her leathery hands. She forced him to stare into her glaring, feral eyes. He wanted so badly to clamp his eyelids shut, to look away from the fire that burned there, threatening to consume him. However, she had hypnotized him, and he could by no means tear his gaze from hers.

"Fool!" she repeated. "How could you have made such a mistake? You knew better! You knew she would be there! You knew her duties! You knew you would need to distract her beforehand! Didn't you?"

Finally the trance broke and he glanced down. She struck him again, digging deeper into the previously wounded flesh. "DIDN'T YOU!"

Her victim nodded weakly and she struck him once more. He cried out. She snarled. "I shouldn't let you live after this," she said. He nodded. "I should murder you and take your life instead." Once more he nodded. "Do you think you deserve another chance?" He didn't respond. She hit him again. "Do you?" He whimpered a small 'no' and she continued.

"No, you don't. Not at all. But, I'm feeling so gracious that I'll give you one more chance. But, considering your absolute stupidity, I'll have to think this one out more laboriously than the last." She rounded on him, having taken to pacing during her short monologue. "Leave, now, before I change my mind and kill you where you stand."

Without a second thought he obeyed, tearing from the doorway and the ever present stench of death that lingered whenever she was near. He bolted down the hallway, not caring if anyone saw him and the primal fear that lingered in his gaze, the blood that poured down his cheek from being struck so many times in the same place.

And for a moment he mused that she had impeccable aim, and would no doubt kill him on the first try if he screwed up once more. He ran to his room quickly, requesting towels from a servant on his way. He needed to heal himself, quickly.

The Fire Lord sat meekly by Katara's bedside, praying for her to be alright. The physicians had told him that she had drunk a poison–a poison meant for him. He gripped her limp hand tighter, feeling the tears prickle at his tightly shut eyelids. He mourned a woman that wasn't yet dead, knowing that somehow, someway, she had known there was poison in that wine and had taken it in his place. She had known that wineglass was meant for him and had risked her life for his.

She had loved him enough to do that for him and he had doubted her affections. Now he only wished he could've taken it back; he wished he could've told her that he still cared and always would.

Now he feared he would never have the chance.

Aang stepped into the room and Zuko glanced up at him. He noticed Sokka behind him, tears streaking his face; Aang's was surprisingly stoic.

Three years ago he would've called the Water warrior weak. But now, after having been through war and battles and pain, he understood that weeping was a way of expression that needed to come about at some point in a man's life. Sokka was upset and he was showing it. Zuko understood that, now.

Aang reached a steady hand out to touch Katara's forehead. She didn't flinch and that worried Zuko. She was sleeping too deeply to be normal.

"How is she?" Aang asked. Zuko shrugged, willing the tears away. Unlike Sokka, who took no shame in crying in front of people, Zuko had always been trained not to cry. And even though he had grown out of that and begun to allow himself pain, he still wasn't humble enough to cry in public.

He swallowed hard as he looked up to Aang.

"She took the poison for me..." He said it quietly, almost whispering. Aang glanced up at him, and almost startled look that confused Zuko flashing across his eyes. He looked to Sokka and then back at the Fire Lord.

"You don't know that, Zuko," he said. Zuko sighed, dropping his head into his free hand, gripping Katara's lifeless fingers once again with the other.

"Yes, I do."

Silence met his declaration and he looked up, catching Aang staring at Sokka. His eyes slid slowly to the other man, who stood somewhat slumped, the pain still eminent on his face. It seemed as if a silent argument raged between the two. He glanced back at Aang.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked.

Aang's gaze didn't falter, though he answered in a strong, commanding tone. "There was something about Katara that we've never told you, Zuko."

Sokka snarled. "NO! You can't tell him! It's not our place!"

Aang stared at him steadily. "And whose place is it then, if she dies without telling him herself?"

"She isn't going to die!" Sokka cried.

Aang didn't waver. "And if she does?"

"Don't say that!"

"Sokka! Listen to me!" Aang roared. Zuko jumped. The Avatar had never gotten so angry in his presence. Sure, he'd involuntarily activated his Avatar's Spirit, but this was different. This was pure, unbridled anger wrought from pain and frustration. This wasn't a matter of the Avatar. This was pain that Aang felt as a teenager standing beside his indisposed friend's bedside. This was frustration at Sokka for harboring some secret for too long and for being to stubborn to let it out before it was too late. And at the sound of it, Sokka stopped and stood deathly still, waiting, like Zuko.

Aang closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, emotions were finally evident in his gaze and for a moment, Zuko was reminded of the boy he had first chased so many years ago. He remembered that Aang was only fifteen.

"Sokka, listen," he said again. "I would rather Zuko not have a false guilt weighing on him for the rest of his life if she dies. Also, I don't want him angry at her for not telling him if, in the instance of her death, we have to tell him afterward. If she dies, and understand that it is a hypothetical situation that I am hoping won't happen, I want him to be able to grieve in truth like the rest of us, instead of knowing that we lied to him for years."

His eyes pleaded with Sokka, though his voice was steady. "Please, Sokka, let us tell him so that he can move past it and mourn as a man should."

The way the Avatar spoke of Katara's death made it seem imminent, and Zuko couldn't handle that. But he knew that there was some great secret that needed to be told. So instead of erupting in a blind fury, he sat, waiting.

Finally Sokka nodded, knowing he had been defeated. "You tell him. I'll go..." he trailed off, shaking his head and walking out the door, leaving Aang and Zuko with Katara.

Aang sighed and pulled a chair around the other side of the bed, slumping into it with no grace of the Avatar that had just so majestically convinced Sokka. He reached for Katara's other hand and sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Zuko... there's something Sokka and I... and Katara and Haru... and Suki and Jet and Misu never told you or Jun."

The Fire Lord stared at him. "Why?"

Aang sighed. "She asked us not to. I suppose she... wanted to protect you." He glanced down at Katara's limp form. "She always wanted to protect you."

Zuko nodded. "So what's the big secret?"

Aang looked at him, brow furrowed in what seemed to be worry. "Zuko..." he sighed again. "I suppose there's no other way but to just say it:

"Katara was–is–an assassin. And a spy."

The Fire Lord stared at the Avatar, then looked at the form of the girl before him. The girl he so deeply loved yet could not find the strength to say so. "How? How can this be?"

Aang replied, "She has been for quite a few years now. She infiltrated several armies, and came here from the rebel camp between the Air Nomads and the Water Tribes. At first she didn't think she'd get absence leave for the celebration last night. When we got word that she had, we told you immediately."

Everything fell into place. That was the reason for her continued absence from the Council. That was why her letters had been so cryptic and hard to understand. That was why Sokka and Aang continually avoided the subject.

"Why didn't she tell me?"

Aang shrugged. "She knew you wouldn't let her. She said you'd tell her 'No' and be done with it. She did it to protect you but in doing that she had to hurt you. I told her that once–that she was hurting you, I mean–and she said it was better than you being dead. I couldn't really disagree with her."

Zuko looked back at Aang. He bore his gaze into the younger man's. "What protection do I need?"

Aang raised his eyebrows. "You're the most wanted man among bounty hunters and assassins, Zuko."

"None have come for me."

"None have gotten as far as you, you mean. We've prevented that. Or rather, Katara has. She's nearly wiped out a quarter of the bounty hunters this side of the Kasekagi Mountain Range. And none have seen hide nor hair of her. None know who she is."

"But she is known?"

"And feared among bounty hunters, yes. She's the hunter of hunters, you could say."

Zuko glanced back at her. "What is she known as?"

"Pardon?"

"Her alias, what is it?"

"Oh, that. Shashi."

Zuko smiled. "Moonlight. A symbol of her strength." How beautiful, like her.

Aang rose, walking over to him and laying a light hand on his shoulder. "She'll be okay, Zuko."

"I hope so..."

Aang sighed, and after standing for a few more moments, he left, closing the door quietly behind him. Zuko laid his head on Katara's shoulder, feeling her breathe slowly and evenly in her sleep. The tears came unbidden as he whispered her name.

"Katara... My shashi..."

Author's Note: Not nearly as many words as I wanted. But I think it turned out rather nicely. That's really all I have to say.

God Bless!

Luci