Chapter 18: You Remind Me Of Me

"Welcome home, Katara."

Katara's eyes traced the Mistress's face. Not much had changed in the features of the Kyoshi leader during Katara's absence. But the things that had aged were much more apparent because of this: fine lines appeared around the eyes, the mouth, in the forehead. Up close, Katara could see how sometimes the white paint didn't fully cover these signs of aging—how old was the Mistress now? Fifty? Bordering sixty? Her husband had died around the same time Katara had left.

Sooner than later, it would fall to Sokka and Suki to lead Kyoshi on.

On into what, was the uncertain part.

The part that had been Katara's job to figure out. Or, more to the point, define, what with her world-changing mission. Which she had so conveniently failed to accomplish.

"You didn't kill him," the Mistress said.

Katara swallowed. Sokka and Suki were silent, still presences at her sides. It was the four of them in that dim room, the Mistress on one side of the low table and the three younger warriors on the other.

I remember this, Katara thought. I remember when we came in here, sat like this, and talked about me. Except it had been about my Waterbending, something that completely changed my life.

As this will.

"No, I didn't," Katara replied.

"But you brought him back alive," said the Mistress, calm brown eyes moving on to rest on Sokka's face. He gave a tiny, affirmative nod. "The Emperor of Fire. He is currently being held in one of our imprisonment houses, I expect?"

Sokka nodded again.

"Under maximum guard."

"Twenty warriors for the Emperor and the Fire Elites on day and night duty," said Sokka.

Katara didn't like Sokka sounding so subservient.

The Mistress said, "He'll be useful, I'm sure. Maybe you didn't fail this mission as spectacularly as I had originally thought, Katara."

All she could do was nod.

"We'll get all the information we can from him first," the Mistress said. "Then we'll try to ransom him back to his country. If they don't want him back—which I find highly unlikely—then we'll have to kill him. Either way, we win. We have the upper hand now.

"But seeing as it is your fault in the first place that we have to deal with this problem," the Mistress stared hard at Katara, "then it will be your job, and your punishment, to extract this information from the Emperor. If all else fails, then it will be your turn, yet again, to kill him."

All Katara could do was nod.

"I'm sure you won't fail this time," said the Mistress. "The mere fact that I'm offering you a second chance should be enough to impart upon you the importance of this decision."

Suki found Katara curled up on the beach, the rising tide lapping at the bottoms of her bare feet.

"Remember we used to practice here all the time?" Suki said, settling on the sand next to Katara, and putting the giggling Suyan down so she could crawl around and play. The Waterbender's face was tucked between her knees, hidden from the world. "You, and me, and Sokka."

Katara was silent.

"Such good memories," Suki sighed, and permitted herself a faint smile at her daughter's antics, who was picking up grubby fistfuls of sand before letting it drift away in the wind. "And you're home again. Aren't you happy to be home again?" She rested a hand on Katara's curled back.

No answer, and then: "You should hate me," Katara said flatly.

Suki drew her hand away. "Hate you for what? For saving our lives?"

"For destroying Suyan's."

Suki was silent for a moment. "If I said that I was completely fine with what you did, giving up Suyan's identity to that Fire Admiral—"

"Then you'd be lying," Katara said, finishing for Suki.

Suki nodded. "Yes. I would. But I can truthfully say that I do feel a little—a little—"

"Betrayed?" Katara cut in. "Mad? Pissed? Angry as hell?"

Suki continued. "—a little relieved."

Katara paused for a moment. "Relieved?"

Suki laughed shortly. "You think I didn't know this would happen eventually? It was a constant, draining worry, every morning waking up wondering if the Fire Navy was going to arrive today to kill my daughter, and now that it has happened, I'm relieved that I'm no longer thinking 'what if', but 'when'. I knew it was going to happen, sooner or later." She shifted restlessly on the sand, "I'm not stupid, Katara. I may have fallen in love with your brother, something I'm not sure you're still okay with—"

"I'm completely okay with it!"

"—and gotten pregnant, and given birth to my own baby girl, but that doesn't reduce me to a doddering, middle-aged, glass-eyed housewife."

"I never said you were—"

"Yes, but it's there in your tone." Suki said, gaze clear. Katara looked away. "You may be out there saving lives and fighting the enemy and getting scarred and bruised and hurt in ways unimaginable, sacrificing your entire self in the process, but that doesn't make you more experienced than me, Katara." There was no trace of jealousy or even the least bit of bitterness in Suki's voice—she was calm, unrelentingly truthful, laying out the facts for both of them to see.

"I don't think of it that way, Suki," Katara said softly.

Suyan sat back in the sand and laughed as the wind ruffled her soft, brown wisps of baby hair.

Suki sighed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry I let this out on you. You've been through things I could never imagine, horrible things that you probably don't want to talk about, or relive again—"

Katara smiled, weak but true. "Nothing as bad compared to what you had to go through."

"Hm?"

"Childbirth. How was it?"

"The most fucking painful thing I've ever experienced in my life."

Katara laughed, loud and ringing. "Was it worth it?"

And both of their eyes focused on Suyan; such a tiny child. Was this really the Avatar, the one who held the weight of the world on her shoulders? She looked back at them, clear, liquid brown eyes solemn, like she already knew it and she was ready—she'd been ready since the day she was born.

Suki smiled softly. "Yes."

Sokka slid open the wooden screen door, while Suki stood behind him, holding Suyan on her hip. Katara took a deep breath, and stepped into the house.

Warm, earthy scents swelled in her mind—smells of home—and she noticed the little things that had changed while she was gone. The rearrangement of the low table n the main room where they took meals, and more pillows scattered around, probably for the baby's safety.

"It's our house now," said Sokka softly, shrugging off his outer heavy robe and hanging it on a small peg in the wall. "The Mistress moved out soon after Suki gave birth."

Katara moved through the house, touching the walls, and saw that one ink mark she and Sokka had made on the wood of the floor when they had discovered the joys of ink and reading and writing. They'd been discovered, and punished—after two hours of scrubbing they still couldn't remove the black stain. It was still there, a memory of Yes, I lived here once.

And now I'm back.

"Your room," said Sokka, and he pushed back the door. Katara walked in, dropping her bag slowly on the ground. A weak ray of sunlight flashed through the window, illuminating the golden dust in the air.

Suki stepped in behind her, surveying the empty, still room. "You can stay with us for as long as you like," she said, and set the wiggling Suyan on the floor.

"Not that you'd want to," Sokka said, cracking a smile, "with Suyan's crying, after one night, you'll find that you'd rather sleep on the beach than in this noisy house."

Katara turned, and picked up Suyan, kissing her baby-soft cheek. "I'll stay," said Katara, and the Avatar beamed up at her.

Later that day, Suki accompanied Katara to the communal bathhouse fed by the natural hot springs. The other women were shy at first, after learning about where Katara had been and what she had been doing, but eventually old acquaintances were remade, news exchanged, with Suki doing most of the talking and explaining while Katara lay back in the water, enjoying the soft chatter of the women and the soothing warmth of the bath.

Blood and dirt and grime she scrubbed off, with Suki hissing sympathetically at scars and bruises and her broken arm. Katara pulled out her braid, and sighed happily as she ran the aromatic soap through her hair and over her body.

"Not much opportunity to take care of yourself while in the Elites, I suppose?" Suki said wryly, half-submerged in the water as Katara relaxed.

"Nothing like this," said Katara, smoothing back her hair. "Nothing like home."

When they reemerged from the bath, Katara automatically reached for her black uniform, lying on the floor next to her towel.

Suki's hand stopped her before Katara could touch it.

"You don't have to wear that anymore," Suki said softly, looking Katara in the eyes and drawing both their hands away.

"But—" and Katara didn't know what she was arguing for.

"It's dirty, and ripped, and covered in blood," Suki continued, taking Katara's arms and raising her up from her crouched position. "We'll burn it later. Don't think about it."

It was pathetic really, the worn black cloth lying in a heap on the ground. It wasn't even so black anymore—more a washed out gray, faded remains of something she would never have to deal with again. She wouldn't even have to think about it, as Suki had said. No more worrying at all.

She turned, gently guided by Suki, and dressed instead, in a clean, green robe with a simple darker green pattern that had belonged to her sister-in-law, and tied it snugly around her waist. It was light, and fitted her comfortably, flowing down to cover her legs in a loose skirt. How long since she last wore a skirt, and not the black pants of the Elites? Oh yes. At the Lady Adia's party.

That party, where she'd danced with the Emperor Zuko, and Admiral Zhao, and she'd seen that strange painting in the hall, the one that looked like her and him together—

"Are you ready to go?" Suki smiled at the woman who had been watching Suyan, and picked her daughter up in her arms before turning back to Katara.

Katara nodded.
"Good," Suki said, and handed Suyan to Katara, and pushing her gently out the door of the bathhouse. "You wait outside for me. I'll take care of your old clothes and then we'll find Sokka and have some sort of lunch."

Katara stood outside, holding Suyan in her arms, taking most of the weight on her unbroken one. After awhile, a small stream of gray smoke came through the opening in the stove room of the bathhouse.

Katara thought she hated the smell of burning things.

A few minutes later, Suki came out, brushing her hands off. "Let's go."

Zuko stood outside, surrounded by warriors, his hands chained together in front of him. The Elites stood not far off, with their own guards. They weren't allowed to mingle on their daily trips outside—the Kyoshians knew better than to give the Fire Emperor and his soldiers a chance to hatch a conspiracy for an escape.

The fact that they were allowed a daily walk outside at all spoke volumes about the Kyoshians' treatment of their enemy prisoners. Zuko's cell was clean and had a small window and cot along with a blanket and pillow. Meals were brought three times a day, and while it wasn't exactly gourmet food, it was edible and filling and not poisoned, which was the most important part. Their imprisonment was undeniably humane and gentle; what Zuko and the Elites had in their cells (a place to sleep, a roof over their heads, and daily meals) was more than some of the poorer, free citizens of the Empire could claim for themselves.

Zuko knew for a fact that had one of the Kyoshi Warriors been imprisoned in the Empire, conditions there would have been much less comfortable.

Zuko shifted slightly, lifting his head to feel the slight, salty breeze from the ocean, and caught a look from one of his guards. The young warrior's eyes lingered on Zuko's scar—when he saw the Emperor looking back at him, he quickly blushed and turned away. He couldn't have been more than sixteen; seventeen at the most.

Zuko, unperturbed, looked away as well and something caught in the corner of his vision.

Two women, dressed in similar green robes, one holding a small child, were walking away from one of the buildings in the village complex, towards the other side of the empty square. Their path took them directly across Zuko and his guards.

What Zuko noticed was the woman holding the child. He didn't recognize her at first. And when he did, he wished he hadn't.

Because it was Katara, smiling softly at the baby in her arms. She didn't seem to see him at all, her attention on the woman (her brother's wife?) talking to her, and the child she was holding.

Her hair was down, something Zuko found vaguely foreign, and she was dressed in the colors and style of a culture not his own. The dirt had been washed from her skin, her cuts cleaned, her arm bandaged professionally and she seemed a stranger to him.

The woman next to her, her sister-in-law, noticed the group of warriors guarding a certain prisoner, and began to hurry along, taking Katara's arm and pulling her rapidly across the village central. Katara looked confused, asking silently (he couldn't hear her, damn it) why they were rushing—what was it that she couldn't see, that she couldn't remember—

She looked up, across the distance, and met his eyes.

He wondered what she saw in his face.

Then she broke the contact, clutched the baby girl in her arms tightly to her chest, and turned away. Her companion followed without comment.

Zuko's eyes trailed her all the way across the village square, until she disappeared into a wooden building.

"What are you staring at?" the young warrior from before said, bringing Zuko's attention back.

"Nothing," Zuko snapped.

"You were staring at Katara, weren't you?" asked his guard, a suspicious look on his unlined face.

"I don't have to tell you anything," said Zuko stonily, eyes staring straight ahead.

"Well," the guard said, "If you try to kill her, this entire island will have your head on a pike, Emperor or no."

"What happens if I try to kill you?" Zuko turned his direct gaze on the younger man, who looked away quickly. Zuko was not sure what he was trying to accomplish by intimidating this warrior, but it felt good that he still had some sort of power and influence, however petty and insignificant it all was.

He hoped he wasn't developing an inferiority complex.

"Alright," an older warrior said gruffly, yanking on Zuko's arm. "Time to go back inside."

Zuko didn't protest as he was lead back into his room. It was warmer inside—but he missed the crisp air on his face, and the feel of golden sunlight, however weak it was now they were heading into winter. He almost asked for a little more time outdoors, but that would have been too similar to begging, and the Emperor Zuko, worthy royal descendent of a long line of prestigious rulers and mighty warriors, never begged for anything.

Not even for freedom.

Katara had gone the entire day in a haze of happiness and release. It seeped into her very bones, this satisfaction of simply being home.

Night descended upon the island as she sat alone in her room, looking out the window at the thin sliver that was the moon tonight. Sokka and Suki had fallen into bed as soon as they'd fed Suyan and gotten her to quiet down and sleep. The entire house was silent.

Now she allowed herself to remember her punishment and her duty. The dread and reluctance (and fear?) crept back into her mind, pushing away the warm feelings of the day and replacing it with trembling weakness.

She would be the captive Emperor Zuko's caretaker. She would feed him, and bring him anything he needed within reason. She would drug all his food and water with the Guozhe plant, so his Firebending would be caged and stilled.

This was her punishment, to stare her mistake in the face, and be reminded constantly of all the things she had done wrong.

It was, possibly, the worst chastisement the Mistress could have thought up for Katara.

Katara wondered what Zuko would do as soon as she stepped into his cell. Scream at her? Beat her? Attempt to kill her?

She wondered if she was allowed to fight back and defend herself.

She wondered if she would try to.

She wasn't going to find out by sitting here in the dark, alone. Better to attempt the first meeting at night, when there would be no one else around to witness her humiliation. Sokka would be worried for her; he might try to stop her from going in order to protect her. Suki would want her to go armed to the teeth with weapons with which to defend herself.

Sliding open the screen door with as little noise as possible, Katara walked out under the moonlight, down the path towards the prisoners' hut.

In the main entranceway before the individual holding rooms, Katara found the supplies and food set out already. She crushed the Guozhe leaves with the pestle before dribbling the juice into the water pitcher for the Emperor. It was hard work, preparing the mixture with only one hand; her broken arm lay useless in its sling.

The smell of the Guozhe juice made her light-headed; she couldn't imagine drinking it, day after day, and having your bending, the most natural, spiritual part of you, cut off and removed. It would be like losing a body part.

It was dark in the small corridor leading to the cell at the end of the hallway. She lit a small lamp with a match, and set it precariously on the tray of food and drugged water.

As she reached the barred door, she set the tray down on the floor. The light flickered, and she caught a glimmer of movement inside the cell. Then his eyes opened and stared straight at her.

Katara looked away; it reminded her of an animal—the calm, calculating look of golden intensity he directed upon her. It was decidedly unnerving. He wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be angry—he was supposed to throw himself at her, railing and cursing and screaming his wrath.

But he sat inside his cell, on his low cot, and stared.

She hated it. And she knew this was punishment, of the most torturous kind.

Her hand trembled as she picked up the flickering lamp and set it beside her on the floor. Zuko's eyes moved—and she realized he wasn't staring at her anymore. He was staring at the tiny flame inside the glass cage. Finally freed from his intense glare, she could read in his eyes the obsession, the utter hunger he had for the fire.

He must be cold, Katara realized. He's without his Fire bending for the first time in his life—he must be cold.

Reaching into her belt to pull out the key, she unlocked his door. It swung open silently, and she bent down to pick up his food.

There was a moment here, a small window of opportunity comprised of mere seconds, when he could have moved faster than her eye could follow. He could have delivered a crushing blow to her head, grasped up the lamp, and set the entire building, and the rest of the island, on fire. He could have regained his freedom.

But he sat there and she knelt down, sliding his tray over the ground towards him. Zuko didn't move to touch it, and after a few heartbeats, she stood to leave. So this was the extent of their interaction.

It didn't hurt as bad as she'd thought it would (as long as she kept her emotions blinded and her heart numb), not bad at all.

Just as she was about to close the door and relock it, he spoke.

"Leave the lamp in here, will you?" he asked. Katara couldn't detect a single trace of emotion in his voice. It wasn't even a question—he stated it, demanded it.

"Why?" So you can burn the house down and escape?

"Because I don't like the dark."

"There's the moon," she replied, angling her head towards the slight window. Milky-white light drifted in.

"Leave the lamp in here, will you?" he repeated, exactly the same as before.

"There's moonlight," and for some reason, she was offended, even angry at him.

A pause. Was he going to attack her for the blasted lamp?

"The moon isn't mine," he said slowly. "The fire is."

It was oblique, and subtle, and confusing—so it made perfect sense when she picked up the lamp and slid it inside to him, within arm's reach.

He didn't say thank you, and she didn't reprimand him for not doing so.

Katara left him and the light, traveling back down the hallway in perfect darkness.

Zuko wasn't sure about anything except the fact that he didn't know this woman.

Her name was Katara and she was a soldier in his army, a loyal, trusted friend, and she kept her hair tied back.

Her name was Katara and she was a Kyoshi Warrior, a Waterbender, and she kept her hair loose and free.

Again, he wasn't sure why he'd insisted on keeping the lamp with him. Except that he was cold, and the warmth left his body whenever he drank that cursed water. He supposed he could just stop drinking it—but then he'd be dead in less than a week, and then how could free himself and his soldiers? Alive, he still had his physical fighting skills, and a working, thinking mind.

He was more unsure of why she'd actually agreed to leave the lamp here with him. Except that something he'd said must have rang true to her—the moonlight was cold, and he needed the fire like normal humans needed to breathe air.

He leaned forward and pulled that tiny, flickering flame towards him, picking it up and setting it on the bed next to him. It was so very, very small, but as he put his hands against the glass, he thought he could feel just the slightest tickling of warmth.

Or maybe he was just imagining it.

I'm never going to forgive you, he thought to her in the darkness. And before I leave, you're going to find out how long never is.

"It's so good to have you back," said Suki, painting her face carefully in the mirror. She was getting ready to teach her first class of the morning, to a small group of newly-initiated Warriors who wanted more sword training. "Usually I have to scramble everywhere to find somebody to watch Suyan."

"That's all I'm good for?" Katara teased, bouncing her niece on one hip. Suyan happily sucked on a lock of Katara's hair. "Babysitting?"

Suki, her eyes leaving the mirror for a second, smiled at Katara. "Of course not."

Katara smiled back, and Suyan gurgled, reaching for her baby-sized cup of water. Her small, chubby hand grasped, and the liquid inside spilled over the wall of the small cup—at the last minute, Katara threw out a free hand and pushed it back in. This was the third time this morning.

Suki's eyes widened at the sight of this as Katara softly sighed and picked up the cup like a normal person for Suyan to sip.

"Fascinating," Suki muttered, before turning back to the mirror. "Sokka won't believe me."

"He doesn't believe in this hokey-pokey magic stuff," Katara said over her shoulder, holding onto the cup so Suyan wouldn't accidentally drown herself in her eagerness to drink.

"He believes it now, seeing as his own daughter is the Avatar," Suki murmured absent-mindedly.

"And he was so reluctant to back when I first found out I was a Waterbender," Katara said, a bit petulantly.

Suki shrugged, buckling her sword to her hip. "Maybe he was jealous that you had special powers and he didn't."

Katara was silent. She'd never thought of that.

"Curious," Suki said, fixing her headdress. "How strange is it that you can Waterbend while your brother can't? Doesn't it usually run in families? Genetics, or something of the sort?"

Katara focused on the water in the cup hand and dribbling into Suyan's mouth.

"You were found on the beach together, seventeen years ago," Suki mused. "Together, but without any sort of identification. You had the same hair color, the same eye color, so we all naturally assumed you were related."

Katara didn't like where this was going.

"But what if," Suki continued, "you weren't actually brother and sister, but—"

"Stop," Katara whispered.

Suki fell silent.

"We are," said Katara. "We are."

There was no way to explain how she knew it except the simple fact that she did.

"I'm sorry," Suki said after a pause. "I never doubted it, you know. Sometimes—sometimes my thoughts run away from me."

"I know," said Katara, and she forgave Suki.

Soon afterwards, her brother's wife left to teach lessons, and Katara stayed in the house with the baby. They played for a bit—Katara held Suyan by the hands and bade her walk around the house, tottering through rooms and making a few narrow misses whenever she lost her balance.

Then they went down to the beach. Several villagers smiled at them on the way there, and they stopped a few times when others wanted to carry Suyan for awhile, and make conversation.

Whatever they did, Katara kept her eyes averted from the prison house. They took the long way around, skirting the small building and crossing to the other side of the square in order to reach the beach. Suyan took no notice—it just meant more people to meet, more interesting things to see.

Katara wondered if Zuko could see her from his room.

They spent the morning at the beach, scrabbling over sand dunes and shrieking when the waves touched their feet. Heading back up to the house for lunch, Katara met Sokka coming from one of the meeting houses.

"Hey!" he called, jogging over and waving a quick farewell to the group of warriors he'd been talking with. Sokka scooped Suyan from Katara's arms and onto his shoulders.

Katara, feeling curiously light and empty without Suyan's weight in her arms, stepped forward quickly and engulfed Sokka in a hug.

Sokka, surprised, swung Suyan down from her perch on his shoulders, and hugged Katara back with one arm.

"I missed you," Katara murmured into her brother's shoulder. Suyan, clutched between them, giggled.

"Making up for lost time?" Sokka grinned, and ruffled his sister's hair.

"Yes," she breathed.

And suddenly, Sokka realized that this was more than an I'm happy to see you hug. It was, he could tell now, a Tell me you love me too hug.

So he did.

"I love you."

Katara sighed and said, "The feeling's mutual."

They separated slowly, and walked back up to the house. Sokka carried Suyan against his chest.

"Did you have a fun morning with Auntie Kat?" Sokka crooned to his daughter.

Katara made a face. "Ugh, don't call me Auntie Kat," she said, waving her unbroken arm at her brother. "It makes me sound so… old."

"If you're old, I'm old," said Sokka, grinning. "And I'm only nineteen, you know."

"Are you and Suki going to have any more kids?" Katara asked.

Sokka seemed to contemplate this for a moment, then he shrugged. "Depends on how this one works out," he said lightly, kissing the top of Suyan's head. But there was an unnamed tenseness in her brother's shoulders.

How this one works out.

Suyan was the Avatar. She was hunted by the Fire Empire. Maybe she'd live to see her second birthday. Maybe not.

A sudden image of two burning yellow eyes appeared in Katara's mind.

She shook it off. What Sokka had said could mean anything. If Suyan… didn't survive, then would he and Suki have more children, to try to replace the one they'd lost? Or would they give it up, and refuse to let go of their grief? If Suyan did survive, would they have more children? But Suyan was the Avatar; any child born of the same parents would be overshadowed by the first sibling's fame, glory, and power. It might be kinder to the unborn siblings just to keep Suyan as an only child.

They reached the house at the same time Suki did, sweating and hungry from her morning practice.

They prepared a light lunch together, the four of them by themselves in their cozy, quiet house.

Katara watched her small family, and wished they could stay this way forever.

"How did your day go?" he asked her in the silence of the darkness.

Katara was so surprised she dropped the tray; the water pitcher shattered on the floor and the drugged liquid seeped out, staining the mat.

"What?" she asked incredulously.

"I said, how did your day go?" There was no expression on his face.

Shocked, she stammered, "Fine."

"Same here," he said.

Katara looked closely at his features for some trace of mockery or sarcasm. She found none.

"Why are you talking to me?"

"Simple," he said, moving forward to pick up the unharmed plate of chopped vegetables and bread from the ground. "There's no one else to talk to."

"You should hate me."

"Who says I don't?"

Katara told herself she had been expecting this, but couldn't help flinching.

He saw this, and snapped off a piece of carrot in his mouth, chewing slowly. After he swallowed, he continued, "You tricked me, lied to me, and betrayed me. The only thing you haven't done yet is kill me."

"Who says I won't?" she shot back.

"I do," he said. His eyes were cold, calculating. "You're too weak. It's not that you won't kill—you just can't."

The conversation was hard, halting. It was like they were complete strangers again. It was like they were starting all over, from the very beginning, in their new roles and new places on this foreign new stage. Her as the captor, he as the prisoner. But the things they talk about—these things are personal and relevant only to them.

"And wasn't it," he continued, "your original mission to kill me, if I remember correctly?"

"You remember correctly," Katara gritted through her teeth.

"So why haven't you done it yet?" he asked, more to himself than to her. "Unless, of course, you and your little rebel friends will be needing me for something."

Now his voice had begun to mock and taunt her.

She hated it, but this nasty banter they were exchanging was far better than the ugly silence of before.

"Let me guess," Zuko plucked up another carrot from the plate, "You plan to ransom me back to my own people, yes? You'll cut a deal with my uncle—my freedom for peace between your island and the Empire."

She clenched her jaw hard. "We're not that stupid," she snapped. "Like we'd ever trust your word on anything. The minute we hand you back over to your uncle, an armada of Fire Navy ships will appear on our shores."

"True," he allowed. "So what are you going to do then? Just kill me, and hope that in the ensuing confusion in the Empire to find a suitable heir, you will be able to launch your attack on us, free those poor little Earth Kingdom refugees, and repopulate the world with your Waterbender progeny?"

Katara narrowed her eyes at him. "You forgot bringing the Air Nomads back to life."

"Oh yes," said Zuko, smirking. "Can't have your perfect world peace without those tricky little Airbenders, can you? Four elements to create a holy balance and all."

"You've figured me out," Katara snapped. "Yes, I'm going to kill you, and then I'm going to defeat your almighty Empire and create world peace for everybody! Is that so unworthy a goal?"

"No," he said, flicking a piece of imaginary dust from his sleeve. "Just unattainable."

"How so?"

"You remember," Zuko said, meeting her eyes again. She held onto his gaze determinedly. "that you can't kill me."

Back to the beginning again.

Katara shook her head and growled audibly. This argument would go nowhere. Swiping up the lamp with one hand, she stomped from the cell, slamming the metal-barred door closed behind her.

"Leave the lamp here, will you?" he called after her. She didn't need to turn around to know he was smirking.

"No!" she yelled back, and it was the answer he'd been expecting.

Still, after she left, he couldn't help but wish that she might have let him keep the fire tonight.

No matter. His anxiety in the dark wasn't the issue here. He reveled in the fact that he had achieved what he had set out to achieve. He'd gotten under her skin. Katara would be thinking about him all night, and the next day, if his intuition was right. She'd be eager to finish this argument and to defeat him.

His words would stick in her mind. She would keep coming back for more and more and more—until he pushed her over the edge.

He would make sure there'd be nobody there to catch her when she fell.

A/N: This chapter was a bitch to write. I had a few people edit it for me on livejournal, and they caught quite a few embarrassing mistakes for me—thanks to those of you who did, you know who you are. Most of what I was doing in my spare time was reading other people's stories... and so here be a list of the ones I really ejoyed:

Emperors & Queens by Mystikat ( 50 ways in 50 sentences to bring a Fire Nation Prince and a Water Tribe Peasant together. A series of One-Liners focused on the Zutara relatioship. I highly recommend this. So much meaning in so few words, it hurts. )

Moments In Passing by PallaPlease ( Again, 50 One-Liners, like above, but describing the relationship between Katara and Aang. I'm a Kataang shipper on the side—and this made me go OH. Even if you don't ship Kataang, I still suggest checking it out; it's that good. And read her other stories. Yesh. )

The Infinity Legend: Limitations by Lady Windsong (A fairly popular Zutara story—all I can say is, why doesn't it have more reviews?)

I recc'd a few more stories when I updated the latest chapter of These Circumstances; go there for more.

One last thing: Who saw the season finale? And if you did, what did you think of the Zuko/Katara fight?

It just about screamed ELEMENTAL SEX to me.