A/N: Back for Chapter 3, and a longer one this time. (But then, it was a really long play.)
Chapter 3: The Players
Zuko's beach house was, as expected, a vacation home fit for a Fire Lord.
The house itself stood at the very top of a sloping hill, a majestic cliff jutting from the exotic greenery of the landscape behind it. Tiered roofs of Fire Nation crimson edged in gold extended from one side of the sprawling building to the other, while it was fronted by tall windows that would ensure the most natural light from the sun during the day. The entrance was a set of enormous double doors, preceded by an impressive set of stairs, that would no doubt ensure any royal family member to emerge would stand higher than servants waiting for them below.
As they made their way up the beach from the glittering waterfront, the balmy air put Katara in a mood to do little more than lounge on the beach. However, there was too much to do unpacking and picking rooms, and by the time they were done the sun was near the horizon. Toph had staked out the biggest room for herself, while Suki invited Katara to bunk with her. Aang, meanwhile, who had gone on a little adventure with Momo around the island to check it out, returned with a couple of melons with a green outer shell and a ripe red flesh inside. Zuko called them watermelons, and the taste was enough to convince her they were destined to become a staple of their meals while they stayed here.
Everyone was feeling good if a bit dopey as they all wandered to their chosen rooms. Katara and Suki's room was a guest room of some sort Katara supposed, given that the single bed at the center, though spacious enough, wasn't quite as large as the room Toph had taken. The walls were also largely undecorated, though as she and Suki opened the drawers of the dresser and cabinet looking for fresh sheets for the bed, Katara came across a small collection of wall scrolls.
"Look at this," Katara said, turning one of the open scrolls around to show Suki.
Suki, who had found the sheets and was now holding a folded set, turned. "An ink painting," she marveled. "It must have been done by an old master, it's beautiful. Look, there's the artist's sign."
Katara turned it around to look at it again. The paper was slightly darkened with age, but the colors were still vibrant. A small stream bubbled beneath a cherry blossom tree, petals gently falling from its branches, some drifting along the current. Her eyes found the artist's name, in the upper righthand corner, signed with such a flourish she had trouble making it out. However, as she pulled the scroll open a little wider to see the name better, she found her eyes wandering to lines of text that appeared above it, in a more neat, legible style.
The River Su Oku in Springtime. Commissioned by the great Fire Lord Azulon, long may he reign. Next to it was a date, over thirty years ago.
Katara had known this was Zuko's family beach house, but she hadn't really thought about the history of it—the years spent here by relaxing royals while their armies murdered families and decimated the other nations. Unsettled, Katara carefully rolled it back up, replacing it again in the drawer.
"I bet they have scrolls like that everywhere," Suki said as she spread the sheets over the bed, smoothing the corners, "and just rotated them based on what Ozai or whoever wanted."
"Yeah," Katara said. "Probably." She shook her head, turning her thoughts away from the royal family.
It wasn't long before they had both changed into more comfortable night clothes, their shoes left by the door. "I'm going to go say good night to Sokka," Suki said. "I'll be back."
"Okay," Katara answered, already settled onto her half of the bed. She lay down just as she heard Suki's footsteps fading away down the long corridor, lying carefully on her side and staring at one of the undecorated walls. At last she closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on sleep.
"Please…"
Katara clenched her hand over the edge of her pillow. She wasn't going to think about it. She had—done what she needed to do. His own cruelty, his evil, had sealed his fate, and she had finally gotten justice, or revenge, or whatever it was. The wound of loss would never heal, but at least she could move on. She didn't have to live, knowing he was out there, happy and unpunished. It was over.
She forced her mind away, trying to focus on something else.
"I thought you wanted to talk about what happened before the invasion."
Katara's mouth twisted. She didn't want to think about that either, but—as her thoughts wound back to the Western Air Temple, Aang looking back at her with frustration and disappointment, against her will images spiraled in her thoughts, accompanied by a confusion of feeling. Aunt Wu's prediction. The silly cave of two lovers. The dance in the cave. That moment, before the invasion…
After Aunt Wu's prediction of her future, the thought of Aang had crossed her mind—not that it had meant anything, as even if the prediction could be trusted there were many powerful benders besides the Avatar in the world. She had mostly forgotten it, but the feelings that had filled her at the passing thought had been mixed—on the one hand, she already cared deeply about Aang. The three of them really were like family even then, and that bond had only continued to grow stronger. However, at the time she had usually felt more like she was looking after one of the kids from the village, and while Jet had turned out to be the slimiest jerk of jerks, she had to admit, if only to herself, that she'd always imagined love in her future to be a little more like that. Someone tall and a bit mysterious, who would swoop in and make her feel that he would make sure things were taken care of, rather than the other way around.
Now—now everything was all tangled up. Because she didn't not feel anything. The way her heart would occasionally beat faster, a strange buzzing in the tips of her fingers—but she couldn't escape the sense that if it were right, if it were meant to be, that she would know. And she didn't know. But, maybe that was for the best. After all, who knew if he would bring it up again—he might have changed his mind, now that she…
Suki finally returned, blowing out the lamps, and Katara closed her eyes, doing her best to sleep, even as her thoughts continued to churn.
Katara awoke the next morning feeling as though she had been run over by a komodo-rhino.
All she wanted was to roll over and go back to sleep, but she didn't want to feel like she owed Zuko if he covered for her again. So, even though Suki was still sound asleep, Katara quietly got up and, after getting dressed and running a comb through her hair, headed out to get started on breakfast.
Out back was an expansive courtyard, paved with enormous stone tiles wider than she was tall, and a great decorative fountain at its center. Though dry now, Katara could imagine what it must have looked like in its prime, clear pristine waters rushing down its side and glittering in the sun.
At the corner under the overhang, just where the courtyard ran up against the cliff side, she found some of the melons Aang had collected the day before. She picked one up, wondering if she could make a juice out of it. It would be nice to have something a little different and fun, while Aang was training with Zuko on his firebending—Zuko had a tendency to get so focused, he forgot to allow for proper breaks. She would have to be sure to watch that.
Katara stood up with the melon, and turned around to go—and nearly ran into a dark form in the gloom.
She flinched, the melon slipping from her grasp, but a hand shot out to steady it.
"Sorry," Zuko said gruffly, glancing away. "I didn't mean to startle you."
Katara was still trying to force her hammering heart back down her throat, and she heard herself say, a little snidely, "I thought firebenders rose with the sun. The sun's not even up yet."
Zuko looked away, his shoulders tense with a hint of defensiveness. "I couldn't sleep. This place..." His eyes wandered the courtyard, the old fountain, the high wall of the cliffside.
Katara remembered the ink painting in the room, and the history of this house. She was immediately sorry to have let herself fall into her old habits. She needed to stop treating Zuko like she was still punishing him for his past misdeeds.
"I guess it must not have the best memories for you," she ventured. "Coming here with your father, Azula..."
Zuko glanced at her, surprised, then looked away. "It wasn't... bad. It was before my father became the Fire Lord. Azula and I would play on the beach... It's the happiest I remember ever being with my family." His eyes were distant—then he shook his head. "But those days are long gone."
Katara still hadn't thanked him, for what he did in helping her find her mother's murderer. She hadn't told him that she forgave him, that she was glad he had joined their team, as their friend.
She hesitated, before tentatively opening her mouth to speak. However, before she could get out so much as a word, a loud, overdramatic yawn from the far end of the overhang cut in on the conversation.
She turned to see Sokka approaching, with Aang trailing just behind him. Sokka had his arms stretched out limply in front of him in a disconcerting way, like he was possessed by a deranged spirit.
"Foooood," he said in a long, haunting voice. "Breeeaakfaaaaast."
Katara wanted to throw the melon at him, but knew she'd be the one to clean it up afterward if she did. So instead she just satisfied herself with a glower. "Toph is wrong, your jokes do not get better when you're cranky, or hungry, or whatever it is."
Sokka rubbed his eyes, then wiped the drool from his mouth—real from sleep or manufactured for effect, Katara wasn't sure. "Toph is wrong. My jokes get way worse when I'm hungry. Way worse. And nobody wants that. So breakfast is in everybody's best interests."
Katara turned her back. Sokka wasn't normally up so early, but then, they had gone to bed earlier than usual, worn out from the day's travels. "Okay, okay," she said. "I'm making breakfast now. But you're getting yours last."
Suki had suddenly appeared from the hall behind them, and she snickered. "Wow, Sokka, that backfired fast."
Aang was watching her from behind Sokka, with an expression she couldn't quite read. His eyes flickered once to Zuko—however, when he saw her eyes fall on him, he gave a tentative smile.
She hesitantly smiled back. Then turned away as quickly as she dared, hoping no one would see the sudden color rising in her face. She headed on outside to make breakfast, glad for the distraction.
"You're not thinking like a firebender."
Zuko and Aang had been working on Aang's firebending forms all morning. Sweeping movements of arms and legs, sometimes fast punches and kicks. Aang was at a point now where he was almost matching Zuko movement for movement—and so when he looked up at Zuko standing across from him just beside the old barren fountain, wiping the sweat from his face from all his exertion, he blinked in confusion.
Katara, who had been sitting in the shade of a pagoda near the courtyard, working on squeezing the juice from one of the melons into cups, paused to look over. Sokka and Suki sat a little ways down from her—they had done a little exploring around the island, but now they'd come back to lounge in the shade. Suki had been feeding Momo bits of fruit as she tried to get him to warm up to her more, while Toph laid on her back on the stone bench a little further down, hands folded behind her head.
Zuko had simply stopped everything right in the middle of a firebending form, and now he stood with arms folded, staring Aang down like a strict, wizened firebending master.
"What… do you mean?" Aang asked between breaths.
Zuko continued, "Firebending is about attacking—attacking, and attacking and never letting up. Every time you let the enemy get off a blast, it could be over. It's you or them."
Aang shifted, half looking away. He had risen out of his firebending stance, staring across the courtyard. "But it's not like I'm going to—you know—anyone. I'm an Air Nomad."
Zuko regarded Aang for a long moment, face grim. As though trying to decide whether to speak.
At long last he slumped, running an awkward hand through his hair. "Look," he began. "I know I should have said something earlier, but—when you face my father, there's something you should keep in mind."
He straightened, looking Aang directly in the eye. "I know the Air Nomads have their philosophies. About revenge, violence, killing. But—you're the Avatar, and it's your job to stop my father. Whatever you have to do."
Before Aang could reply, Zuko pushed on, "My father is too powerful to be kept in any prison. So—when we fight this battle, you're going to have to forget about being an Air Nomad. And be ready to end the fight—for good."
Aang's expression was unreadable—blank with surprise. Then, uncharacteristically, his features twisted with frustration. "Forget about being an Air Nomad? I'm the only one left! How am I supposed to rebuild if I turn my back on the monks' teachings? Every life is sacred, even your father's."
Everyone was watching now. Sokka put a hand to his head. "Tact," he muttered. "Zuko's strong suit."
Zuko didn't relent. "You can't rebuild anything if you're dead. Which is what you will be if you don't give my father everything you have."
Katara noticed Sokka was looking her way, as though expecting her to intervene.
Katara left the melons and climbed to her feet. She approached, hands raised in a calming gesture. "Look, Zuko," she began. "Just—back off for a second, okay? You don't need to be so harsh."
"I'm just saying what needs to be said," Zuko answered, though his voice was less aggressive, and he looked away, glaring at the far side of the courtyard.
Katara was standing next to Aang now. Her hand automatically went to his shoulder. "Just back off," she said again. She turned. "Aang—"
However, he wasn't looking at her. Instead, he suddenly shrugged out from under her hand, and stalked silently away, through the courtyard and beyond.
Katara watched him go for a second, too stunned to react. She glanced around at the others—but most of them suddenly weren't looking at her. Suki was focused on Momo, Sokka's eyes raised to the sky as though he were bored. Katara hesitated, then turned away from them.
Katara passed through the house to the beach outside. The sand was glittering white in the sun, yet the trees cast long shadows toward the water. Aang was there, standing with his back to her. As usual, he had been training shirtless, and the blue of his central tattoo was visible between his shoulder blades, interrupted only by the red, marred flesh of where Azula had struck him down with a bolt of lightning.
"Aang?" she said, approaching hesitantly. "Are you okay?" She added, "Come on, you know how Zuko gets. He's always so... direct. You've been working all morning, you should take a break. Come back inside, and I'll make you some—"
"You agree with him, don't you?" he said abruptly.
Katara hesitated. "I don't know, Aang. I guess I hadn't thought it through that far." She paused. Then added slowly, haltingly, "But, if there's not a way to—to lock him up, then—"
Katara stopped. Because Aang had finally turned to look at her—with an expression that was so hurt and angry and disappointed—
Without a word, he stalked past her, back to the house, leaving her to stand by the roiling surf, between the shadows of the trees.
Aang went back to training with Zuko. He followed Zuko's instructions, but he was quiet, subdued. Sokka tried cracking a few jokes to ease the tension, but when he was met with only unappreciative silence, he at last said something about wanting to check out the resort town. Suki was quick to join him. Toph was so little affected by the strained atmosphere that she had dozed off to sleep.
Katara watched the training from the shade of the gilded overhang, but she wasn't really seeing it. Instead, she just kept seeing Aang's face as he looked at her. Aang, who would normally take any opportunity for a break to come over and talk to her, and show off what he had learned so he could hear her praise how well he was doing—Zuko wasn't one for giving much encouragement—didn't even look at her. He just followed the forms as Zuko instructed.
At last Katara got up. She had been thinking since they'd arrived that she would like to go through the house, and see if there was anything worth appropriating. Some of their cooking pots had been getting rather worn, and there might be something else useful. And she just needed some excuse to get away.
She found her way up to the attic first—though the sun was high overhead, bright and unobstructed by any clouds, the place felt dim and shadowy. Besides the dust motes drifting lazily in the air, visible in the bright sunshine filtering in through the windows, it was relatively clean. Just a few cabinets and boxes lined up against one wall, an old dresser against the other.
Opening the cabinet, she was met with a puff of dust, and she coughed. There was no cooking supplies visible, but a series of tied scrolls caught her eye. Not unlike those she had found in the guest room.
Curious, she unfurled one, and found it was indeed another ink painting. This was of the caldera of the Fire Nation capital, the jagged rim unmistakable. The heart of the volcano, the great and terrible place from which all the Fire Lords had rained terror down on the world—Katara shivered and quickly rolled it back up, stowing it away again.
Her eyes scanned over the boxes and crates, a few spilling over with unused silks and bags that might have been rice flour or other food supplies. However, a quick lift of the lid on the few closed boxes proved there were no cooking pots up here. She probably should have checked the kitchen first, but for some reason she felt more strange about raiding the house itself. As though the occupants might come back after all, and wonder where their things had gone.
However, Katara wasn't in any hurry to get back downstairs, where she would be close enough to hear the conversation as the training continued, and so she returned to the cabinet, picking up another scroll. She undid the string and unrolled it partway—and, in spite of herself, had to bite back a laugh.
It was a portrait of a baby. She immediately recognized the night black hair and deep gold eyes—apparently even Zuko had been cute at one point in his life. In contrast to Zuko's usual scowl, the baby was showing two little front teeth in a beaming grin.
Katara closed the cabinet, still holding the scroll, and wondered how much it would embarrass Zuko for the others to see it. She wasn't really in the mood just now, and the others probably weren't either, but she could hold it in reserve for later. Zuko was part of the group now—he would have to learn how to take teasing.
Smiling to herself, Katara raised the scroll a little higher, letting the end of the parchment unfurl all the way, almost to the floor, so as to see it all. Her eyes wandered automatically to the inscription half hidden at the top—and she froze.
Our young lord Prince Ozai. Commissioned by the great Fire Lord Azulon, long may he reign. May all the days of our young lord be filled with strength and plenty. The marked day was over forty years ago.
Katara stared at the picture. Slowly, she started to close the scroll. It was probably better if Aang didn't see this.
"Here you are."
Katara nearly jumped out of her skin. The scroll slipped through her fingers and clattered to the floor, and she spun.
Suki was standing there, with a bemused expression.
"What's wrong?" she asked. Her eyes flickered to the scroll, which had fallen in a jumble of parchment at Katara's feet, the painting side down. "What's that?"
Katara quickly bent to pick up the scroll, shoving the jumble of paper back into the drawer without looking at it. "Nothing," she said quickly. "Just—looking for some cooking supplies. Did... you and Sokka find anything interesting in town?"
Suki sighed. "Actually, yes. Apparently there's this play they're putting on, and Sokka's determined we're all going to see it."
"A play?" Katara said, frowning. "A Fire Nation play?"
Suki rolled her eyes. "Apparently it's a play about the Avatar's travels."
"Oh." Katara tried to process that, and couldn't.
Suki laughed at Katara's expression. "I don't know that anyone else besides Sokka wants to see it either, but I think he just wants to cheer us all up after, you know, everything earlier. You should see the poster, you look great."
Katara blinked. "Wait, I'm in this play?"
"You're in it," Suki said, shrugging, "and Sokka, and Zuko too, apparently."
Katara wasn't entirely sure how much she wanted to be locked in a room with all the others at the moment. Things felt so off with Aang, and she felt like they both needed more time and space before things would go back to normal. Besides—the whole idea just sounded strange.
"He's not going to take no for an answer," Suki warned.
Katara studied Suki's face, and despite what she had said about only Sokka wanting to see it, there was a certain gleam in her eye that made Katara certain Suki was ready to push for it every bit as hard as Sokka.
Katara sighed.
It was dark out when the play was due to start, and they all made their way as a group toward the glowing playhouse entrance. In their usual Fire Nation clothes, they strangely didn't stick out at all amidst the rowdy kids and teenagers. Aang had found a hat somewhere to hide his arrow tattoo.
Zuko was hanging at the back looking broody, and Katara paused, then found herself falling into step beside him.
"Have you seen these people perform before?" she said, keeping her voice low so Aang wouldn't overhear. "What kind of plays do they do?" She was nervous—this was a Fire Nation play after all, and given their experience with at least one Fire Nation school on one of the eastern islands, they knew the Fire Nation was taught a very different version of the last hundred years. They could make out Aang to be some kind of horrible monster, and Aang hated people seeing him that way.
Zuko grimaced. "My mother always took us to see them. They make a joke of everything—Love Amongst the Dragons was the worst."
Katara glanced at him, curious. "Your mother?"
Zuko huffed and looked away. "Yeah," he said reluctantly. "She always liked going to plays, even the stupid ones like those. Love Amongst the Dragons was her favorite."
"Oh, that's… nice." She glanced at him again in some surprise. For the longest time, she had been convinced Zuko had only brought up his lost mother in the catacombs below Ba Sing Se in order to trick her into letting her guard down. Now she knew better, and she would have liked to hear more about Zuko's mother—but dragging anything even vaguely sentimental from Zuko was like pulling a badger-crab from its den. Zuko didn't know what had happened to her, whether she was alive or dead, and Katara imagined it still had to feel like an open wound.
Katara didn't know if that was better or worse—to be left wondering, if she could still be out there somewhere, rather than knowing for certain. The idea of thinking someone might come back when they never would was heartbreaking—and yet, at least there was a chance, a spark of hope to cling to. When Katara had lost her mother, there had been no room for doubt, or hope. Only later had she started listening more closely to the legends of the Avatar—how he would end the war and restore peace, so no other families would have to be torn apart.
Katara looked ahead, and noticed Aang had glanced back toward where she and Zuko were walking. His expression was hard to read—then his mouth tightened slightly, as though frustrated by something.
Katara felt something suddenly tighten inside of her, and she looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. She felt her hands close into fists at her side.
The theater inside was huge, with endless rows of seats all filled with people buzzing with excitement, all facing a large, curtained-off stage at front. Fire Nation nobles chatted, while children raced back and forth in the aisles, and rich teens slouched and crunched on various Fire Nation snacks from the concessions stand. On a second level around the sides stood another tier of seats, the overflow sections, and they entered from the one at the very back. The section was nicely isolated from the others—they didn't want to draw attention to themselves—and they all moved toward the seats.
Aang had fallen a little behind, and so as Katara followed Toph to sit down, Zuko sat down beside her, with Aang coming up last. Aang stood there in front of the last seat for a moment, and somehow Katara could feel his eyes on her, as though he wanted to say something. However, Katara kept her eyes pointedly fixed on the curtain below, and at last he sat down.
Sokka and Suki came in to take up the row behind them, Sokka spreading his arms out across the back of the seats, slinging one casually around Suki's shoulders.
"Why are we sitting in the nosebleed section?" Toph complained as the lights dimmed. "My feet can't see a thing from up here!"
The curtain started to rise, and Sokka shushed her, leaving Toph to huff in annoyance, arms folded.
Down below on stage, two figures were revealed sitting in a flat prop boat, amid a series of blue panels, shaped and painted to resemble ocean waves. One was a portly woman with a long braid down her back, her hair fixed in loops, while the other was a thin pole of a man with a wolf tail, both in clothes of blue and white. They swept tiny short oars back and forth in a circular motion that vaguely resembled rowing, though the oars were too high to reach the fake panels of water.
The two actors were far too old and looked nothing like Katara or Sokka, but it was clear who they were supposed to be, and Katara sat forward, intrigued in spite of herself. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned back to see Sokka gesturing back and forth between the stage and the two of them with wordless excitement. Katara couldn't help but grin a little back. Maybe this would be fun after all.
The actress let out a woeful sigh. "Sokka, my only brother," she pronounced, "We constantly roam these icy South Pole seas, and yet never do we find anything fulfilling!"
The man replied, "All I want is a full feeling in my stomach. I'm starving!"
There came laughter in the audience as Katara glanced back at Sokka, and he at her. She was sure that he was thinking what she was thinking—that this was not a promising start.
"Is food the only thing on your mind?" sighed the actress, still in the same breathy, overly dramatic voice.
The man replied doggedly, "Well, I'm trying to get it out of my mind and into my mouth. I'm starving!" He turned to look at the audience hopefully, waiting for the laugh, which the audience granted him.
The real Sokka leaned forward in his seat, glaring at the stage with righteous indignation. "This is pathetic," he hissed. "My jokes are way funnier than this!"
Katara didn't think she'd ever seen Toph so delighted with anything, and she laughed out loud. "I think he's got you pegged!"
The actress Katara ignored her brother, instead standing up in the fake boat and directing her gaze skyward. "Every day, the world awaits a beacon to guide us, yet none appears! Still, we cannot give up hope!" The woman spread her hands dramatically, gesturing from one end of the stage to the other, then finally clasping them together at her chest. "For hope—is all we have!" She continued, "And we must never relinquish it, even... even to our dying breath!" She collapsed back into the boat, throwing her arms over the side and sobbing in earnest.
Katara could hear Sokka and Suki snickering behind her, and she glared down at the stage. She muttered in outrage, "That's just silly, I don't sound like that." She glanced around at the others for support.
However, Toph looked happier than ever. "Oh man, this writer's a genius."
Even Zuko, who was sitting with his arms folded beside her, couldn't quite seem to suppress the hint of a smirk that twitched at the corner of his lips. Only Aang, she noticed, sitting just beyond, stared down at the stage with an unfathomable expression, unsmiling.
Katara, whose hands had been half raised defensively, slowly let them fall back to her lap. Everyone else was still looking down at the stage, but her eyes lingered on Aang, who was watching Katara's stage self. He didn't look up, even to give her an apologetic smile.
Katara turned her eyes back to the stage. The colors flashed—Aang's character was introduced, and Aang was roused enough from his distant mood to scowl at that fact that his role was apparently being played by a girl, while Toph laughed more heartily than ever. However, she wasn't really seeing it.
Katara did know how important hope was, what it was like to be without it—those days and months after her mother had been taken from them were still the darkest she could remember. But she'd never thought of herself as the hope advocate of the group, who couldn't seem to shut up about it. But—was that what Aang had been expecting of her? To somehow give him hope, that he wouldn't have to kill Ozai after all?
Katara stared down at the stage, arms folded across her chest. Aang's angry, hurt expression circled around in her mind, again and again. It wasn't fair. The situation wasn't her fault, and it wasn't her job to tell Aang something that wasn't true, just because he wanted it to be.
It was surprising just how many events the play managed to cover. Zuko was in it of course—the actor's petulant outbursts and constant raving about honor was almost as bad as actress-Katara's crying speeches about hope, but while Zuko grimaced, Katara wasn't in the mood to gloat. Bumi made it in, as did Suki and Kyoshi Warriors, and even Jet, which shook Katara out of her thoughts long enough for an embarrassed cringe. Sokka got emotional when actress-Yue showed up.
Then the curtain was rising for the first break, and they were all walking out to stretch their legs.
"So far this intermission is the best part of the play," Zuko grumbled.
Sokka wasn't happy either. "Apparently this playwright thinks I'm an idiot who tells bad jokes about meat all the time!"
Suki smiled—her portrayal had been brief enough that she hadn't had anything to cringe about for long. "Yeah," she agreed. "You tell bad jokes about plenty of other topics."
Sokka tore off a piece of a fire flake with his teeth, chewing grumpily. "I know!"
They'd all come outside to sit on the stairs, the only light from a series of softly glowing gilded lanterns hanging around the pavilion. Zuko stood leaning against the railing, his arms folded, while Sokka and Suki sat near the bottom steps together. Katara had taken up a spot at the top, but now she climbed back to her feet.
"We should just go back to the house," she said. "There's no point torturing ourselves for another two acts. This play is completely stupid."
"Yeah," Zuko agreed gruffly, pushing himself up from the railing to stand next to her. "I don't need to see any more either."
Sokka blinked, and in spite of all his complaints, didn't look so anxious to go. "But, it could get better. And we've already paid for it." A thought seemed to occur to him, and he stroked his chin, narrowed eyes shifting back toward the direction they'd come from.
"We're not leaving," Toph said stubbornly. "I haven't even been introduced yet!"
"Which you'll be grateful for if we leave now," Katara insisted.
"I think we should stay."
A brief pause, before eyes turned back toward the bottom of the stairs.
Aang was standing there, and Katara looked to find he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. At last his gaze shifted away.
"Sokka's right," Aang said slowly. "We've already paid for it anyway."
Katara stared back at him, and suddenly she couldn't push away the sense that he wanted to stay purely because she had been the one to suggest that they go. She glanced at Zuko, hoping he would have more arguments on the subject.
However, though Zuko was scowling, his shoulders were slumped in resignation. He sighed.
Katara turned her back. "Fine," she said coolly. "I guess if you want to see yourself as a girl some more..."
Sokka clapped his hands together. "Good. Glad that's settled. These guys don't have to be exactly like us to be good, I'm just saying I wish my guy at least knew how to tell a joke."
As the others all filed back in, trailing after Katara, she heard Toph say, "Just accept it, this guy did his research. You guys just don't want to accept the truth."
"It'll get better," Sokka said, glancing around at them. "It has to get better."
The play didn't get better.
The second act was more of tearbending hopeful Katara, meat-obsessed Sokka, and Aang winking at the audience with a heavily eye-shadowed eye as he—well, she—twirled about the stage. Actor Zuko had, for some reason, switched to a ridiculously long wig, and actress Azula, whose costume consisted of varying shades of pink, easily outwitted them all.
Katara did have to admit though, Toph was right about one thing—the playwright had done his research. As the scene shifted to their arrival in Ba Sing Se, beginning with Azula's drill, the actor playing Jet reappeared again. He staggered about the stage, in a crude imitation of Jet's brainwashing by the Dai Li. As a large rock prop floated down from the ceiling, and the actor stretched for it comically, crawling beneath it until he was concealed from view, Katara decided she'd had enough.
Katara rose from her seat, carefully edging past Zuko and Aang back out into the aisle.
"Hey," Sokka whispered, waving to her. "You're getting up? Can you get me some fire flakes?" He added after a moment of thought, "Oh, and some fire gummies!"
Katara didn't answer him, just made her way back up the steps. Sokka was already back to watching the play.
Though the night air in the Fire Nation was always balmy, Katara felt a chill on her skin. She couldn't stand seeing Jet's death turned into a joke. He had once tried to do something horrible—but he still hadn't deserved to die the way he had. In his final moments, he had been fighting on their side, and he had faced his fate with bravery and strength.
Under the pavilion, Katara leaned her hands against the balcony rail. The moon was full above, casting the tropical trees in deep shadow. Unexpectedly, thoughts of Jet stirred another memory.
You sound like Jet.
Katara slowly closed her hands around the railing. She glared out at the dark water. Then, slowly, she took a breath, forcing herself to relax. Thinking about any of this wasn't doing her any good. They needed to focus on Aang learning his firebending. And Aang needed to... find in himself a way to adjust to what he needed to do about Ozai. At least there was still a little time. Aang would need to face him before long, before the war could drag on much longer, but maybe in a few days, a few weeks, he would find the answer in himself.
Katara knew she should probably go back down to the play before they started wondering where she had gone, but she didn't. If the playwright's rendition was as accurate as it had been so far, it might also cover the fight in the catacombs, and she didn't want to see Zuko's betrayal that had led to the city's fall turned into something played for laughs. She had forgiven him—but it hadn't been funny then, and it wasn't funny now. And Aang... Aang's death. That had not been funny.
She didn't know how long she had been standing there when she heard the quiet scuff of a shoe. She turned, startled, only to see it was just Aang. He was alone.
Katara turned away quickly, staring back out at the water again.
"Is the second act over already?" she asked politely. Though she tried to keep her gaze fixed on the water, she couldn't help but glance at him out of the corner of her eye.
His shoulders were rigid, fists clenched at his sides.
Katara felt herself tense in response. Was he really going to confront her about what she had said about Ozai here? Or was it just because she'd walked out early—was he going to tell her she was just mad because she hadn't gotten her way?
Aang approached the railing, to stand a little ways down from her. Then, without saying anything, he suddenly took off his disguise hat and threw it crumpled to the ground.
"Argh!" he exclaimed, throwing himself against the railing, arms folded. "I hate this play!"
Katara blinked, too surprised to react. After a moment, however, she said cautiously, tone kinder than before, "I thought you wanted to stay."
"It's stupid," he said. "You were right, I wish we'd just gone back."
Katara, glad that this wasn't about Ozai, felt her hand automatically reach toward him, touching his shoulder briefly. "It's okay, Aang. It's just a play." She added, "I guess it got me a little upset, too. I didn't like the way they were making fun of someone dying—what happened to Jet... wasn't funny."
Aang glanced back at her again, surprised. His face once again tensed in a frown of frustration, but then his eyes darted away, expression guilty.
"Yeah," he agreed at last. "It wasn't."
Katara watched Aang briefly, trying to figure out what he was thinking. From the first day they'd met, Aang had always been bright and cheerful, and she'd thought she always knew how to cheer him up on the rare occasions he got discouraged. In bending training, Aang always responded best to encouragement, so she'd tried to tell Toph. But then there were moments when the pain reached so deep, the burden of being the Avatar so heavy, that she didn't know what to say. When he had accidentally burned her with his firebending, when he was afraid of what he became when he went into the Avatar State, when he lost Appa, when the Earth Kingdom fell. And yet, he'd pulled through—because he hadn't been alone. She'd been the first to make sure of it.
"What's wrong, Aang?" she asked softly.
Aang sighed. His head was resting on his folded arms, but now he lifted it to look at her. He glanced away again, toward the water. "Can we… talk about the invasion now? You know, before."
Katara didn't move—and she wasn't sure what she felt. She had avoided any conversation about this, almost dreaded it even, with all her tangled uncertain feelings. But she had been wondering if it would come up again, if Aang would even want to talk about it now. Apparently, he did.
Still not sure what she was going to say, she said cautiously, "Okay."
"After," he said haltingly. "...We kissed. I thought we'd be together. But we're not."
Katara didn't answer. She stared hard at the moon beyond the bay, the bright white light casting shadows along the rocky shore.
"Why not?" he asked. He hesitated, then added slowly, chewing on the words as though they had a bitter taste, "Is it because you just see me as a—as a little brother?"
Katara blinked, startled by this conclusion. She turned to look at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"
He turned to glare sullenly out at the water, arms folded again, shoulders hunched. "That's what you said," he muttered.
Katara was thoroughly confused now. "I didn't say that, Aang. I never said that."
His shoulders tightened. "In the play," he said, still not looking at her. "That's what you said."
Katara stared at him in disbelief. She wondered what in the world could have incited her play-self to make such a comment, and then wasn't sure she wanted to know.
"Aang," she said at last. "That's not me. That's an actor."
Aang straightened, and he spun to face her. "But it's true, isn't it? Otherwise you wouldn't keep avoiding it."
Katara did her best to tamp down her rising frustration. "Aang, I'm avoiding it because there's a war going on, and I don't know what I feel. This just isn't the right time. When the war is over—"
"But we don't know when the war will be over!" Aang burst out. "We decided—we decided I won't be ready before the comet comes. When will I be ready? It could be years from now!"
Katara stared back at him—shocked and appalled in ways it took a moment to unwind.
"Aang, you can't just—is that your solution? To—what you're supposed to do? Aang, the world can't afford for you to put this fight off indefinitely. You might not be ready now, you need more training with firebending—but Zuko is right, you're going to have to try to be ready sometime." She heard herself add, "You already know running away doesn't solve anything."
Aang flinched. His eyes darted away from hers. At last he added quietly, "Of course you'd side with Zuko."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.
He stared back at her. "Katara—don't you see what's happening to you? Can you—really think it's just that easy, to take another—"
Katara didn't let him finish. The same flash of anger she had felt as she stood by Appa when Aang had asked her in that soft voice if she was okay flared anew, only this time she didn't try to squelch it. She took a menacing step forward, and when she clenched her fists, the entire bay seemed to tremble.
"What's happening to me? Aang, nothing is happening to me." She hesitated for just a moment, before she surged on. "But you know what I think? I think you want there to be something wrong. Because the Air Nomads said all life is sacred, you want me to tell you I feel bad about killing that monster, that I wish I hadn't done it. Well, I don't feel sorry, and I won't."
She hesitated. Then she added in a lower voice, some of the anger draining away. "I value life, Aang. I valued my mother's life, and I value yours. I just—wish you would value ours, too. Because you know if we lose, Ozai wins. And we die. Will it have been worth it?"
Katara didn't look at him, didn't try to see what his expression might be. Instead, she only turned and left the balcony, returning to the jarringly bright room above.
A/N: Long chapter. (And we didn't even manage to finish the play.) I've been wanting to keep these early ones fairly short, but sometimes there's not a good cutoff point.
I'll admit I've always been interested in Katara's side of Kataang leading up to the ending. While the show makes Aang's perspective and feelings clear, the progression of Katara's isn't so much—how aware she actually is of her feelings as early as the Cave of Two Lovers, what Katara means when she says 'I'm confused,' if she always intended to get together with Aang after the war was over and at this point just didn't want to distract him from his fight with Ozai, or if she really was uncertain of her feelings and it's in the finale she finally figures it out. This story has been a nice excuse to explore at least one possibility.
Thanks for reading! If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and hope to see you in the next one!
Posted 9/28/22