Kiss THIS!

Standard spoiler disclaimer applies

For jazmin22, who wanted Katara to go back and heal Iroh. Enjoy!

30kisses challenge 27—Overflow

Excuse

She never could stand to see someone hurt. Perhaps it was in her waterbender blood, but every time a person was injured, be it enemy or friend, she could not just stay back and watch. Even as a child, she could not stand to see someone wounded. She would always rush to wherever they were, assisting either Gran-Gran or her mother in helping them heal. Her father told her it was one of the best qualities she could ever have, and he meant it, too. It was because of this that she ended up being the person she was today—she could never take it back.

It was also the best excuse she could come up with for why she was back here.

She wasn't wanted here, she knew that much, but she could not help it. Running off with Appa was perhaps the most foolish thing she'd ever done, but now she was here and she didn't regret it. Lying still where they had left him is the old man, barely breathing—the only indication that he was still alive is the slight rise of his chest, heaving back and forth with much struggle.

And beside him, collapsed from absolute exhaustion, desperation, and fear, is Zuko.

The younger of the two is bleeding, though only slightly, and his face tearstained and sun burnt. It's the face of someone who has tried, tried so very hard, but in the end—

He could not do it alone.

Her anger at him is gone; she wasn't for sure what she felt about the scarred boy before her, only that her anger, her hatred at him for not letting her help, had fled like the night sky. He looked so different from when she last saw him, the day before, or even all those months ago, back in the North Pole. His hair was different: there was no ponytail, but there was a choppy, almost shaggy, mess of hair there now, and it looks better on him, she thinks softly.

His face, his eyes, broke her, for in them is grief and lost and confusion and anger and a thousand other words she can't help but think of when she looks down at him, scarred and alone—or so he thinks. He doesn't know that his Uncle is well now, that he will live, thanks to her.

Or maybe he does, because out of nowhere his face has become calm, soothed…she knows that she should take her hand out of his hair, to stop petting him (he would have been mortified if he had been awake) but for some reason, cannot stop herself. It feels good, comforting people, to help them even if they don't want her help. She feels most at home, most like her element, when she can heal.

And there is a lot to this boy in her lap that needs to be healed, she knows, and that's the only good excuse she can come up with for why she kisses his forehead and leaves before he or his Uncle wake up. (They wouldn't've wanted to be in her debt, anyway.)

XXX
END

FRUITSEXUAL, YOU ARE LOVE!

(coughcoughcheckoutmyprofileandseethepictureshedrewmecoughcough!)

Jak