Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. I don't own Zutara, either, though I hear it's becoming its own nation and will be declaring nuclear war on Kataangland pretty soon here. Haha, attempts at humor in the disclaimer. Gotta love ff.

This is a more serious look at Katara and Zuko's possible relationship, given the fluff that seems rampant.


What Would Really Happen in Zutara

Katara stepped back from the sheer weight of the heat pressing into her, raising a hand before her face. Her spine curved and she gritted her teeth, not wanting to lose control of the impulse to whip her arm around and pull water from the glass behind her, to counter this sweltering barrage with an icy water whip.

"Listen to me, Zuko…"

She didn't bother to finish, knowing he probably hadn't heard her. The air seemed to sizzle and the sweat trickling across her brow hissed into nothing. Katara's eyes sprang open and she took a rattling, heaving breath, her chest burning and her eyes itching. The air felt empty and she swallowed hard to keep her panic in check, knowing that if she struggled it would only incite him.

"Zuko…!"

The water in the cup had long dried up and Katara cast around for something, anything, to pull into her body. A spike of light shining through the tent door taunted her, reminded her of just how close water was. Zuko's blistering assailment of heat had blocked the entrance, making it impossible for her to reach beyond him and revitalize herself. Katara's desiccated skin pulled taut.

Terror and anger surged through her. She eyed the light feverishly and tensed, ready to explode out of this tent and drench herself in the sweet, damp outdoors.

A moment passed.

As suddenly as it had come, her panic subsided.

She raked her swollen tongue across her lips and brought herself back under control. Zuko had done this before. She could handle it. This would be totally okay.

"Zuko, stop! I mean it! It will be fine!"

The heat intensified and Katara pulled away, her back bumping against the table. She shut her eyes and clenched her teeth, drawing in a ragged breath. The inside of her nose shrank and cracked, and a sticky release bathed her lips. Katara brought her other hand to her face reflexively, but when her fingers touched the blood, it had dried into a smooth casing over her skin.

Alarms rang in the back of her head but she ignored them. She knew they were wrong. If he had hit her it would be different. She would have killed him if he had hit her. This was something he couldn't control. It was a remainder of his childhood, lashing out at his father by lashing out at her.

She could fix this.

With an effort she moved her hand to the side and squinted through the wavering air. The outline of Zuko's body stood before the entrance to the tent, half turned from her and perfectly still. Katara mentally recoiled to see how nonchalant he appeared, head bowed and fists at his sides, the only marks of his rage the minute shaking of his arms and legs and the iron set of his jaw. If she could only get over there and touch him, she knew she could calm him down.

She knew she could make this completely okay.