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Chapter 2: Normal

The sun had long dipped below the horizon when they arrived back at camp. The sky was cast in darkness, heavy clouds blocking out the stars.

Katara had just awoken from a dreamless sleep—and yet, she still felt exhausted. Her mind and body heavy and weary.

As Appa descended, she caught sight of Aang below. Standing in the grass, gazing up at them anxiously, as though he hadn't moved at all since they had gone.

The moment Appa's feet touched down, Katara heaved herself over the side of the saddle. Aang opened his mouth to say something, but Katara stalked past him into the camp. She didn't pause, didn't look to see if anyone else was still awake. She saw the set-up tent just beyond the dark remains of an extinguished campfire, and made her way there. Tearing back the flap, she collapsed on the bedroll inside. She closed her eyes.

Voices from outside wafted back to her. Aang's voice—timid, worried. "Um. So, what happened?"

Zuko's voice came back, sharp and curt. "What do you think?"

The camp was silent then—or perhaps she just didn't hear it, as once again, sleep claimed her.

Katara awoke with a start.

For a moment, she sat in dim, gray light, with the vague sense that she had just woken from a nightmare, though she couldn't remember what it might have been about.

She tried to recall what she had been doing last. They were preparing for the invasion. They had been driven out of the Western Air Temple by Azula's attacks. But before that, Zuko had joined them...

She remembered.

A strangled scream, a liquid heavier than water splashing to the ground. Silence.

Katara bent forward, covering her mouth. Had she done that? Had she really used her bending to... kill someone?

There came a sound from outside the tent, a thump like someone throwing something down, and she jumped, glancing toward the flap. For the first time she heard the murmur of voices outside. A whispering breeze rustled the cloth, and the sudden line of sunlight around the edge made her squint and avert her eyes. It wasn't usually so bright out when she first woke up.

Sokka's complaining voice drifted from outside, followed by Suki's, which was airy and conciliatory. A dull grumble answered—Zuko's.

Katara's heart pounded as she gripped the blankets over her bedroll. What did they all think of what she had done? When she went out there, would they all fall silent, stare at her like someone had died? Like she'd done something terrible? What would Aang think?

For some reason, as she pictured their critical—yet almost pitying—gazes, the coldness in her chest turned to a flash of heat. She hadn't done anything wrong. They just didn't understand—the monster he had been. He deserved it, and worse.

Taking a deep breath, and carefully arranging her face in a calm, placid expression, Katara crawled to the entrance and drew back the flap.

The sun was higher in the sky than she'd thought, and again she had to blink and look away until her eyes adjusted. Her eyes drifted across the camp.

Zuko was sitting at a steaming pot of stew, carefully stirring—where she would normally be. Suki nearby was busy arranging the supplies, where the other tents and sleeping rolls had been stashed, ready to go on Appa's saddle. Toph was reclining lazily against a nearby rock, while Sokka stood with his arms folded, overseeing it all with a look of supreme dissatisfaction.

Katara's eyes found Aang last, who was over by Appa, carefully brushing his fur and rubbing his nose affectionately. He reached for a piece of fruit, tossing it lightly into the bison's mouth.

Katara felt a sliver of guilt—she had pushed Appa pretty hard the past few days.

Aang was the first to notice her. He looked uncomfortable for a second, his eyes sad—but then he gave a tentative half-smile. He turned around, as though to approach, but before he had gone even a step, suddenly the sun was blocked by a dark figure, arms folded over chest.

Katara blinked and looked up, to see Sokka scowling down at her, one eyebrow cocked, finger tapping impatiently against bicep.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good… morning," Katara said, avoiding his eyes, though the edges of her mouth were already tightening with defiance. She had expected silent looks of horror, maybe from Sokka even a quiet lecture somewhere when they were alone—but was he really going to tell her off like this? In front of everyone?

Well—that was fine. If he wanted a shouting match right here, she would give him one.

"Or should I say, good afternoon," he continued. He pointed back at the sun dramatically, and its notably high position in the sky. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Come on, Sokka," Suki said, from where she had rolled up another tent.

Sokka half turned away, throwing up his hands. "Fine, fine. Just sleep the day away. And we'll live the rest of our lives off Zuko's cooking."

Zuko scowled at his back, the edges of his good ear turning red.

Toph was idly picking her nose. "We've been taking turns cooking while you were away," she explained in Katara's direction. "Sokka's been a baby about it the whole time."

Sokka turned on her, scowling. "You turned the stew into a pile of black sludge. You could have killed us all!"

"I didn't think it was so bad," Suki offered.

Sokka frowned at her. "You told me you thought you were eating a bowl of roach-caterpillars."

She winced, shooting a glance at Toph.

Katara was still kneeling in the tent entrance, flap half pulled back. She stared out at them all, jarred by how strangely normal everything seemed. And yet—why shouldn't it be normal? She hadn't done anything wrong.

For the first time, Katara felt how hot and sticky she was, and she realized she was still in the same clothes she had been in the last few days. They suddenly felt out of place.

"Um," she began. "Just let me change."

She let the flap fall closed, and she heard Toph say lazily, "Suki's wasn't so bad. Burned snow peas kind of have a unique flavor."

"Sorry," Suki said.

"Don't be. Sokka being hungry and cranky kinda makes his jokes better."

Sokka grumbled to himself in an undertone. "Sokka, the idea guy. Oh Sokka, come up with another brilliant plan for us. Where do they think those ideas come from? Food is fuel. Good fuel equals good ideas. Bad fuel equals bad ideas. It's ideas one-oh-one."

Katara discarded the large black overshirt in exchange for her usual blue, light tunic. As she cinched the white belt around her waist, she felt immediately better. She also yanked the band holding her hair back out, letting it fall loose like usual. Her hair felt like a rat-viper's nest, but it would take too long to untangle now.

When she emerged, everyone was sitting around the campfire, Zuko in the process of ladling out stew. For all his complaints, Sokka was first in line, and kept prodding Zuko to add more, until Zuko finally drove him off with an irritated wave.

Katara approached carefully, first stopping by a water basin someone had set out to rinse her hands, then took the last of the crudely carved wooden bowls from where it had been left with the cooking supplies.

Nobody seemed to be paying her any mind—except for one. As Katara turned to approach the simmering pot, she noticed Aang, sitting with one of the old dried rice cakes they had left over from one of their forays into Fire Nation towns. He didn't seem to notice as Momo took an experimental nibble at the cake; he just watched her, as though waiting for something. When he saw her looking back, he tried again to smile.

Katara broke his gaze quickly and went to Zuko, kneeling. She glanced at the stew, and though it was similar to the kind she and Sokka had grown up with, the scent somehow had a Fire Nation spice to it. Guilty, with a hint of reproof, she said quietly, "I could have made this. You should have woken me up."

Zuko shrugged as he took her bowl, avoiding her gaze. "It's not a big deal."

As Zuko ladled out a large spoonful of stew, Katara watched him. She had been so angry—first, because she had really thought Zuko might change his mind, turn on them as an enemy again as he had in Ba Sing Se. Then, when he'd seemed to prove himself trustworthy, it had been resentment. After all he had done, all he had put them through, chasing them all over the world and burning villages in his wake, then helping Azula conquer Ba Sing Se and seize the Earth Kingdom in the process—for him to just have a convenient change of heart, without having to pay for any of that, it seemed unbearable.

But now that anger was gone—he had understood how she felt about her mother. And he hadn't just talked about it, he had helped her, stood by her at the critical moment. He had gone from being an enemy to a friend.

Zuko offered her the bowl, though his eyes remained slightly down, not quite meeting hers. She wanted to tell him, but now with everyone else around didn't seem the right time.

Instead, she only took the bowl, and said sincerely, "Thank you, Zuko."

He glanced up, startled, and she gave a hesitant smile before standing and going to sit in the circle. Toph, who had apparently already slurped up her bowl, burped beside her.

"So what are we doing?" Toph asked, tossing her empty bowl aside.

Zuko had joined them in the circle, sitting on one of the empty logs with a bowl of his own. Sokka was already sneaking back around for a second helping, but at this he paused.

"Well, not that camping out doesn't make me feel all nostalgic for the good ol' days, but—a place with actual beds might be nice. And we'd be more secure if we weren't so out in the open. Of course, we'd probably be packed up and gone by now if we didn't have certain delays…" He shot Katara and Zuko a pointed look.

Zuko ignored this, and said, "I think I know a place." He took a bite of his stew, swallowed, then continued, "Ember Island. Nobles and generals stay on the island to relax, and their families, too. Our family owns a beach house there."

Toph snorted. "Oh, that's a good idea. Let's just camp out next to a bunch of Fire Nation bigwigs."

Zuko scowled. "The point is, no one would think to look for us there. My father used to take us when Azula and I were kids, but he hasn't been there in years. And it's not far from the capital."

Katara took an experimental sip of her soup—it was sharp and spicy like all Fire Nation food, but not in a bad way. She swirled the liquid until she found a piece of meat, spearing it into her mouth and chewing.

Sokka stroked his chin in thought. "Did you say this was a place all the Fire Nation brass go to relax? Like a tropical resort?"

"Yeah," Zuko said slowly. "A resort. There's festivities, games, parties, that kind of thing. Security tends to be pretty lax, they aren't on the lookout for enemies there."

Sokka considered for a second longer, before he nodded once. "Okay, you've convinced me. The Fire Lord's old house it is!"

Toph shrugged. "I guess I'm always up for a vacation."

"It's not a—" Zuko started to say, then sighed.

"Okay," Suki said. "Sokka and I can go get the supplies stashed out in the woods—Sokka insisted on keeping them there."

"There could have been an attack!" Sokka insisted. "If we had to get out of here fast, better to have some place to go to get something. Since we couldn't just fly out on Appa." Again he gave Katara and Zuko a look, and Katara wondered if he was ever going to let it go, or just keep milking the complaints for all they were worth.

Suki took his empty bowl, setting it down over by the cooking supplies, and deftly shepherded him in the direction of the woods.

Katara watched them go. And as she gazed at Sokka's slightly hunched shoulders, an unexpected prickle of guilt needled at her.

Then you didn't love her the way I did.

It wasn't fair, what she had said. She could still see his shocked, hurt face in her memory. She ought to apologize—make sure he knew she didn't mean it. Yet somehow apologizing felt like she would also be apologizing for what she had done. And she wasn't sorry.

Zuko had just finished his bowl, and he stood. "I'll take care of the last tent," he said, turning. Katara glanced back, seeing that hers was the only one still standing.

"Oh," she said, half-standing. "You don't have to—"

"It's okay," he said gruffly. "You can... go help Aang with the saddle bags."

Katara glanced toward the circle of logs, and noticed for the first time that Aang was no longer sitting there with his bowl. She hadn't even noticed him slip off.

"And while you're all doing that, I'm just going to stay here, and get a few more minutes relaxing time in," Toph said, lacing her hands behind her head.

Katara glanced at her. Toph's eyes were closed, perfectly relaxed. Toph added, "And don't give me that look, sweetness, you know I'm going to be doing more work than all the rest of you combined when we go. Someone has to make it look like no one was here."

Lecturing Toph was the last thing on Katara's mind. Instead, it occurred to her that Zuko might be helping Aang—who probably wanted to talk to her, alone. She wished for once Toph really would come help with the saddlebags, but Toph was looking far too comfortable to have any thought of moving. And this probably wasn't something she could avoid for long. So, sighing to herself, Katara reluctantly made her way toward Appa.

Aang was brushing through Appa's fur again, and didn't seem to notice they were supposed to be getting ready to go. He was staring intently at the back of his hand on the brush, the blue arrow tattoo, as strands of old fur fell away.

Katara picked up another brush from the open satchel on the ground, this one more like a comb for finer work. She began picking at one of the clumps.

Aang still hadn't said anything. Maybe she'd been wrong, maybe he hadn't been wanting to talk. Or maybe he kept thinking about what she had done, and couldn't think of anything to say.

Katara couldn't take the quiet anymore, so at last she said, "Um, it's too bad Azula drove us out of the Western Air Temple. It was nice to get to see some more of your heritage. A temple on the bottom of a cliff—the nuns must have been amazing airbenders."

Aang was still staring at his hand. But then he blinked, and glanced her way. He smiled hesitantly. "Oh—yeah. You should have seen some of their techniques. They used to have these special dances—it was kind of like waterbending." As he talked, he had pulled the brush away, gesturing with his hands as though to demonstrate. Then he sighed, and his shoulders sank a little. "Except it's half gone now."

Katara winced—she had forgotten that part. Azula's leering features swelled in her memory, delightedly unleashing bombs and fireballs on the priceless relics of a people hers had all but extinguished.

Katara couldn't think of anything more to say, so she just kept brushing.

"Are you okay, Katara?"

He spoke suddenly into the quiet. As her eyes flickered over to look at him, she found he was staring at her with gray eyes wide with concern. His hand on the brush was no longer moving.

For a moment, something seemed to flare to life inside her. A flash of cold, and hot both. She had to force a smile. "I'm… fine, Aang. I feel better. Relieved."

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low. "Are you sure there isn't anything you want to talk—"

"I said I'm fine," she repeated, more forcefully, hand clenching over the brush.

Katara hesitated, and didn't look at his face, afraid to see the hurt there. She took a deep breath through her nose, then said, "It's okay, Aang. Everything is okay. It's over now."

"...Okay," he said at last.

After a moment, she heard his footsteps trailing away through the grass, and she turned to watch him go. Since the invasion, whenever they were in a safe place he always opted to wear his air nomad clothes. He wore them now, the orange cloth over one shoulder, a single yellow sleeve, his tattoos fully visible.

As she thought about the failed invasion, an unexpected memory surfaced in her mind. Standing atop one of Sokka's underwater machines, as Aang made to go fight the Fire Lord, looking young, small, and yet, strong and determined too. Suddenly leaning close to her...

The heat rose in her face, and she looked away.

Katara took a slow, steadying breath through her nose, then turned instead to the camp, where the bowls were scattered about. She should get them washed and the cooking supplies packed up. She didn't want to leave it to Zuko—she liked to keep them organized so they would transport safely. She trusted Zuko more now, but she didn't quite trust him that much.

Katara walked away from Appa, keeping her eyes focused on the camp.

A/N: Ah, logistics.

At the end of The Southern Raiders, Zuko actually takes Katara to the old beach house first, I would guess to give her some time to be alone for a while, then goes and gets Aang. I decided here that, because it takes more time to take care of Yon Rha, it's much later when Zuko and Katara return, so Zuko decides just to head back to camp. I'm not sure if they'd already all predetermined to go to the beach house ahead of time or if it was something Zuko just decided, but I guess according to this version in canon Zuko dropped Katara off there, then went and explained his plan to the others.

Also I know the gaang might seem insensitive here—the way I picture it when Katara came back, they got together and had a little conference about how they should act when Katara woke up. Aang suggested 'nice' and Sokka suggested 'normal,' and as Suki and Toph sided with Sokka, Aang got outvoted.

If you have a moment, let me know what you think so far, and hope to see you in the next one! (Incidentally, to anyone who's interested, this story is already posted in full on Ao3 under the same name, so feel free to check it out if you would rather get the full story now. This mirrored version will feature a few minor revisions and edits, but nothing too major.)

Posted 9/26/22