Water

Freedom Fighter: Part 2

Fate had cheated Katara. She was fairly certain about that.

The walk was nice. Talking to Jet was amazing. He was handsome and charming, and his stories were interesting, and he listened to her. They explored the network of rope bridges and wooden platforms woven through the treetops, close enough that their hands brushed together from time to time. Katara didn't even mind that it made her insides flutter and her face burn. In fact, she kind of enjoyed it.

Yes, fate had definitely cheated Katara. That was the only explanation she could think of. There should have been boys like Jet in the Southern Water Tribe. Handsome and tall and charming, close to her age, and not her own brother.

At dinner, she made sure to sit right next to Jet. Sokka wouldn't stop shooting looks at her, pulling faces and making gagging noises any time Jet turned his attention her way. It boiled her blood a little, but she pretended not to notice. She was spending time with a very interesting boy with dreamy eyes and a dazzling smile. She would have time to freeze Sokka's feet to the ground later.

At the end of the meal, when Jet had meandered away to talk to a few of the other Freedom Fighters, Sokka stood up and stretched with an exaggerated yawn. "Well, guys, I think it's time for us to get some sleep. It's getting late."

Katara scowled. "Stop it, Sokka."

"What? I'm just making sure that we don't lose too much time. This whole trip is for you two." He sniffed, angling his chin upward. "I'm just concerned about finding proper training for the Avatar."

Katara crossed her arms and stared daggers at Sokka. "It's not even sunset yet. We can stay up a little longer."

Aang's face split into a grin and he snatched Momo up onto his shoulder. "Sounds great, I'm gonna go play with the other kids, bye!" The words ran together in a rush, and he was gone almost before he finished.

Sokka yelled after him, but if Aang heard—and he probably did—he didn't let it show.

Katara smirked. "Looks like you've been outvoted, Mister Strategy."

He scowled, but before he had a chance to respond, Jet sidled back over and perched beside Katara. "You know, there's a beautiful place not too far from here that I didn't get a chance to show you before. Maybe you'd like to—"

Sokka crossed his arms, staring venomously at Jet. "No time for that. We've got to get an early start in the morning."

Katara snorted. "An early start? You?" Sokka had woken up early today, and he'd probably sprout wings before it happened twice in a row. She smiled back at Jet. "I'd really like to see it."

It was Sokka's turn to snort. "Wish you'd been this enthusiastic about walking before."

Katara ignored him. Freeze his feet to the ground later. You'll have plenty of time to get even after this.

Jet led her over the rope bridges again, past the storerooms and the work huts and a few of the bunkhouses. She tried not to let her expression betray the fluttering in her stomach when his arm wrapped snug around her waist again and held her secure against his chest while he lowered them both back to the forest floor. This was nice. Then the pulleys creaked, and she let out a small squeal, burying her face in his chest.

Jet laughed and assured her that it was fine, the whole system just got a little noisy after every rainstorm. But she felt his grip on her shoulders tighten a bit more. Her heart went wild and her face warmed. Okay, this was more than nice. She liked Jet. She peeked upward and caught a glimpse of his smile. She really liked Jet.

When they reached the ground, Katara didn't want to pull away from him. It was nice being held like that. Even nicer when the boy holding her had glittering obsidian eyes and a small, crooked smile, and hair that caught the breeze and danced with it. She wanted to plunge her hands into his hair and let it run through her fingers. Would that be too weird? Probably. People didn't just go around fondling near-strangers' hair.

Maybe if she could think of an excuse. Yeah, that would work. Maybe she could make him a hat and help him put it on and then stick her hands in his hair.

Jet led her through the forest, sure of his step even as the sky began to fade toward sunset. He showed her how to spot Fire Nation traps buried in the undergrowth and told her what he and the Freedom Fighters had done to sabotage the Fire Nation military stationed in the forest. He told her about his village and his parents, and how the Fire Nation had taken all of it away, burned it all to the ground. How he and a few of the other children had fled and taken to the treetops for shelter, and over time, built themselves up into a real settlement, real warriors.

Her heart twisted, and she felt the empty space at the hollow of her neck where her mother's necklace used to sit.

"They stole so much from my tribe too." The emptiness where the pendant should have been felt heavier than usual, and there was a painful tightness at the back of her throat. "They took all our benders away. And they killed my mother."

Jet rested a hand on her arm and peered deep into her eyes. "The Fire Nation is going to pay for all of this," he promised. "For my family and your mother and every other life they've destroyed in the past hundred years."

Something odd in his tone prickled the back of her neck, but before she had a chance to think about it, Jet led her out of the trees and to the edge of a wide, glass-smooth reservoir.

His hand settled on her back, steady and warm. "Here we are."

Katara's breath left in a rush, and she couldn't tell whether it was because of Jet's proximity or the way the setting sun reflected in the lake. Probably a little of both. "It's beautiful."

"I knew you'd like it." Jet's voice dropped, and Katara felt him lean closer to her ear. "It's so calm this time of night. It's even better when the moon is full."

Her stomach fluttered again and she looked back over her shoulder. He was close, and his eyes glimmered in the gathering darkness.

He leaned even closer.

The stalk of grass dangling from his lips moved as he moistened his lips.

Katara's heart roared in her chest. Was he about to—was he going to kiss her? Was she ready for that? What was she even supposed to do when a boy kissed her?

And then the stalk of grass poked her in the eye.

"Ow, ow, ow." Katara pulled back, cupping her hand around her eye.

"Shit." Jet spat out the stalk of grass and caught her wrists. "You okay? Here, let me see."

"Yeah, I think so." She blinked a few times.

Jet cupped her face and leaned down to study her. "Are you sure?"

Katara nodded, her face heating. Her fingertips brushed the back of his hand.

"Good." Jet's charming smile came back and he leaned even closer. "Let me try that again properly."


Zuko had won.

He'd fought Zhao with everything he had, every drop of rage, every ounce of skill and strength. And it worked. Zuko had won.

"Prince Zuko," Uncle called after him, and Zuko could hear the old man puffing as he trotted to catch up.

Zuko didn't look back. He couldn't. He couldn't stop, he couldn't slow down. His breath came too fast, too sharp, and everything sounded dull through the roar of his veins.

He had won, but he felt nothing resembling triumph.

The ramp echoed with his footsteps as he descended back to his own ship. Though panic coursed through his veins and every impulse told him to run, Zuko fought to keep his stride as even, as unhurried as possible. He had to get away from Zhao as fast as he could, had to get back to the safety of his own ship. But he would not run.

He had won the Agni Kai. He should have no reason to flee, but he couldn't seem to escape fast enough.

Zuko pushed past Jee and the other waiting crewmen.

"How'd it go, Prince Zuko?" Jee called after him.

Zuko ignored the question. "Set our course toward the Earth Kingdom coast," he bellowed back. Maybe if there was enough force behind the words, they wouldn't crack.

"It's nearly night, Prince Zuko," Jee said. "We won't make much distance—"

Zuko barely paused. "We've been anchored all day. We leave for the Earth Kingdom coast now." With that, he flung the door open and marched down the corridor, heart racing too fast, vision spinning at the edges.

He flung the door to the sickbay open with even more force. "Get out," he ordered the medic. "Now! Out!"

The wiry old man dawdled until Zuko bellowed again, voice crackling at the edges. The medic scuttled out, and Zuko slammed the door after him.

And locked it.

Breathing hard, Zuko leaned back against the door and slid down to the floor. He'd won the Agni Kai. He had bested Zhao fair and square, he had won a decisive victory. He could have marked Zhao, could have left permanent proof of his defeat burned into the commander's skin. But Zuko hadn't. He couldn't burn another person. Even Zhao.

Zhao didn't have so much restraint.

Bracing himself, Zuko raised his left arm so he could finally see the place where Zhao's final, livid attack had landed. A fist-sized patch of skin just below his elbow was already swollen and red, blistering from the center outward.

Zuko's stomach turned and he looked away.

The fight had been over. Zuko had already won, but that wasn't enough for Zhao. And when Zuko's back was turned, when his defenses were down and he was too flooded with relief at the fight finally being over to notice the shadow approaching behind him, Zhao had struck.

Uncle had done his best to block the attack, but the old man still stood at the sidelines of the arena, and he could only move so fast. Zhao's flames landed lower and to the side of his intended target, but they found their mark in Zuko's flesh all the same. Zuko had turned, intent on retaliation, but movement brought the pain to the surface, and suddenly Uncle's attempts to restrain him were unnecessary. The moment the sensation of the burn struck, Zuko wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else, anywhere Zhao couldn't follow.

Zuko tipped his head back and fought to bring his breathing back under control. The burn wasn't that bad. It was deep, and it hurt, but he could still move his arm and flex his hand. Sort of. Movement made the pain worse, but he could still do it. The fact that he'd been burned in an Agni Kai again shouldn't matter. He'd won this time.

But his pulse wouldn't listen, and it kept racing against all reason. It was stupid, but every time he came close to convincing himself that he was okay, his mind twisted up his first Agni Kai with his second, and it became hard to breathe again.

Stop it, he ordered himself. Zhao isn't Father. You won and Zhao had no right to do this. Unlike Father. Father had abided by the sacred rules of the Agni Kai, and Zhao hadn't. This one wasn't Zuko's fault. He would be fine if he'd just get up and get back to work on his quest for the Avatar. And if he was lucky, this burn might even heal properly.

He couldn't be sure how long it had been when he finally pulled himself together enough to rifle through the cabinets for burn salve and a roll of bandages. Too long.

A soft knock came at the door. "Prince Zuko? May I come in?"

Zuko's jaw clenched, and he kept working, slowly cleaning the burn. "I'm fine, Uncle."

A pause, and Zuko could picture Uncle in the corridor, hovering by the door, concern and pity all across his broad, lined face.

"We are making good time," Uncle tried again. "Lieutenant Jee tells me that we may sight the Earth Kingdom shores as early as tomorrow evening."

Zuko let out a breath. He'd heard the engines, but he'd been too occupied with the burn on his arm to feel when they began to move. "Zhao isn't following us?"

"No. One of his lieutenants informed me that they have orders to hold their position until further instructions arrive."

A bit of the tension in his shoulders drained away, and Zuko sagged back in his seat. Good. That would mean a head start of a day at least. A day wouldn't make much difference on its own, but if Zhao's orders sent his fleet somewhere—anywhere—away from the Avatar's trail, it would be enough. That was all that mattered anyway. If Zuko could just stay a few steps ahead and capture the Avatar, Zhao could do whatever he wanted. Zuko would be home, and Zhao would still be at sea, bound to Father's orders.

Uncle let the silence linger for several long minutes before he attempted to break it again. "May I open the door, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko drew a long breath. He wasn't certain that he was ready to see anyone, even Uncle, but he couldn't lock himself in the sickbay forever. He'd have to come out eventually. Maybe that would be easier if Uncle came to him first. Slowly, he nodded. Then he realized that the door was still locked and Uncle couldn't see him nodding.

"Fine," Zuko croaked, and Uncle's keys rattled in the lock. Zuko turned his face away from the door and started dabbing salve onto the burn again.

The hinges creaked with rust as Uncle let himself in and hovered, watching in silence until Zuko finished with the salve and fumbled for the end of the bandages with his right hand.

"May I?" Uncle asked, gesturing toward the bandage roll.

Zuko peered up at him from the corner of his eye and finally nodded. His right hand wasn't coordinated enough to manage the bandages anyway. He leaned back in his chair, staring straight ahead at the rust-stained cabinets as Uncle bustled silently over and set to work dressing the wound.

"They think I'm a failure," he said under his breath. "The crew. Even more than they did before."

Uncle met his eyes for the briefest moment, but his expression didn't change. "They know that you won."

Zuko shook his head a fraction. "If they know that I won, they know that Zhao burned me. And that I ran away." With his free hand, he picked at the label on the burn salve jar.

Uncle's hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed. "You did well, Prince Zuko. You fought with honor."

"I lost my honor. Beating Zhao didn't bring it back."

The grip on his shoulder tightened. "Zhao cannot bestow honor. He has no honor of his own. If he had, he would have accepted his defeat." Uncle stared down until Zuko finally met his eyes. "You fought with honor, my nephew. You are not defined by your past, and today you proved it."

Zuko saw the conviction in Uncle's eyes, heard it in his voice. He could only stand to maintain eye contact for a second before he had to look away. Uncle didn't know what he was talking about. Zuko's past was all that mattered.

He shook his head. "We'll be back on the Avatar's trail before Zhao leaves the bay. I'll get my honor back the right way."


Sokka wasn't waiting up for Katara. No, that would be silly. It wasn't like she'd just disappeared with the slimiest guy Sokka had ever had the misfortune of meeting. Again. It wasn't like Sokka was concerned that the slimy jerk had been making eyes at Katara all afternoon, and all evening. Or that Katara had been making eyes right back at him.

Fine, so maybe Sokka was waiting for Katara to get back from her weird evening expedition with Jet. And maybe he'd tried to follow them and lost their trail right after he reached the forest floor. Tracking was different here than it was at the South Pole, and none of Jet's little friends were particularly helpful. The kid with the bow wouldn't talk to him at all, and the short-haired girl who hung around with the archer kid accused Sokka of being a snoop. Which—maybe he was. But he had very good reasons. Sokka didn't just snoop because he felt like it, he snooped for a purpose. And weird strangers who insisted on hanging around with his sister alone seemed like a very good reason to Sokka.

Seriously, there was something just—off about Jet. He hadn't even reacted to Sokka's insults. And Sokka had thrown a lot of insults over dinner. That was weird. Normal people didn't just take it when strangers made scathing remarks about their stupid hair and their stupid face and their stupid eyebrows. Normal people didn't just ignore the guy doing the insulting and keep chatting up his sister. That was rude. And more importantly, it wasn't natural. People were supposed to get angry at insults, or at least express annoyance. Like Zuko. That guy knew how to properly respond to an insult.

Wait, no. Sokka was not going to use Zuko as his standard for normal behavior. Yuck. He shook himself a little. Zuko was the enemy, and therefore he was the opposite of a normal person, even if his outbursts were exactly the sort of reaction Sokka wanted.

Maybe Katara was a better standard. Yeah. Katara had been pissed about all of Sokka's remarks about Jet. Sokka didn't like her insistence on defending Jet, but at least she knew how to react like a human. Jet should have been just as annoyed as Katara about the constant needling.

The creepy bastard. Sokka didn't even want to know what he and Katara were up to right now.

Stupid Jet and his stupid cool swords.

It was well after dark when Katara finally slipped back into the room and stepped over him to get to her own sleeping bag.

Sokka sat up, arms folded. "Where have you been?"

Katara yelped, and a rope of water whipped out of her waterskin and smacked him in the face.

Sokka groaned and cupped his hand over his nose. "Katara, what the hell?"

She made a series of enraged noises and what he could only assume were very rude gestures in the dark. "What am I doing? What are you doing sitting in the dark waiting for me?"

"I happen to be making sure that a certain sister of mine doesn't make any stupid mistakes with a certain slippery character who lives in a tree."

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "Jet is a good person, Sokka. Stop with the stupid nicknames."

Stupid nicknames. Sokka's nicknames were genius. It wasn't his fault that Katara had bad taste. Besides, Jet didn't deserve a glorious Sokka-bestowed nickname. Slimy Bastard would do just fine.

"He's up to something, Katara. I don't know what, but he's bad news."

"You're jealous."

Sokka spluttered. No, he wasn't jealous of that viper-rat. Just because he thought Jet's swords looked cool and he wouldn't be above borrowing them—possibly permanently—didn't mean that Sokka was jealous. "Well, I hope you had fun with your new boyfriend, because we're leaving in the morning. Bright and early. Maybe even before Mister Slimy Bastard rolls out of his tree."

Katara put her hands on her hips, and although it was too dark to make out her features, he could feel her glaring. "He's not—I mean—we're not—" she made a frustrated little grunt and stomped her foot. "Jet needs my help tomorrow. There's a village near here that's overrun with firebenders, and he told me that he wants my help to get rid of them. So—there." She rustled around a bit near the head of her own sleeping bag.

"You've got to be kidding, Katara. You can't trust that idiot."

She dropped another splash of stale water on his head. "And you need to stop acting like every person we meet is evil. He wants your help tomorrow too. He said something about wanting a fresh pair of eyes and someone with knowledge of how the Fire Nation operates outside this forest." She paused as though to make a point. "I was nice enough to suggest you."

Sokka couldn't help but feel a little flattered. He had been paying pretty close attention to the Fire Nation soldiers they'd faced so far. And he'd gathered some useful information about them—by yelling at the crown prince, but nobody else needed to know that part.

He didn't like it, but his curiosity was piqued.

"Fine," Sokka grumbled, shaking the water out of his hair. "But we're leaving as soon as his dumb mission is over, got it?"


Katara didn't want to believe it. She couldn't believe it, except for the fact that Jet wasn't denying anything. He wasn't even trying to deny it. When Sokka accused him of one atrocity after another, Jet didn't so much as waver. He almost seemed proud.

It made her feel sick. Sokka had acted fast enough, but it had been close. The harsh, sulfuric scent of the blasting jelly still clung to the insides of her nostrils, and her ears still rang from the explosion. Another minute, and the people would have been washed away with their village. Another minute, and Sokka would have been washed away with them.

"Let him go," she ordered, uncorking her waterskin. Her eyes flicked toward the sky. Still no sign of Aang or Appa. The other Freedom Fighters were probably putting up enough resistance to slow him down.

Jet turned back to her, his dark eyes cold. "No. He ruined our plans, Katara."

Her breath caught in her throat. Our? She lashed at his hand with a rope of water and succeeded in knocking one of his swords loose. "Let my brother go now. I don't want any part in your plans, Jet."

Sokka squirmed, but the ropes that the big guy, Pipsqueak, had used to tie him to the tree held tight.

Jet sneered and idly stooped to pick up his fallen sword. "Don't you want revenge for what they did to your mother? Don't you want justice?"

Katara's throat tightened. She'd been wanting justice for six whole years. But this felt nothing like the justice she'd always longed for.

"Killing families isn't justice, Jet," Sokka said. "What part of drowning kids and old people sounds like justice to you?"

"They're the enemy! The whole Fire Nation is the enemy!"

Katara couldn't respond. Hearing Jet brought back all the images she'd tried so long to forget—of her mother's body and the man who stole her away. But this time, Jet had tried to turn things inside-out. This time, she was one of the attackers.

If Sokka had been any slower, this could have been an echo of her own childhood. There might have been a little girl in this village, left behind to mourn and search endlessly for her own mother's killer. Just like Katara.

"They're civilians," Sokka fired back. "Just like our mother was. Just like your family was."

Jet gave up on Sokka and turned toward Katara again. "You agree with me. I know you do." His eyes narrowed and he stalked closer. "Deep down, you know I'm right. They all deserve to burn in their own flames."

Rage washed over her, and she hurled another blast of water at him. If she knew any earthbending, she'd be throwing rocks too. "Let Sokka go!"

Jet sidestepped the attack and loomed closer. "Or what? You told me yourself that you aren't much of a fighter. You haven't been trained. I have."

Not much of a fighter yet. The fury built higher and higher, and Katara sent sharper attacks his way. "How dare you? You lied to me, Jet!"

He dodged to the side, swords whirling to break apart the blasts of water. "I offered you a chance to get what you wanted."

"No!" Her voice came out brittle, and she felt flashes of clarity—the sort she'd only ever felt in the Avatar State before. Not now, not now. She couldn't trust Jet. If he knew who she was, he might try to use it against her. "You tried to make me into a monster!"

Jet's eyes narrowed, and he rolled across the ground to stay clear of an even larger blast. He sprang back to his feet, but this time, he wasn't headed toward Katara. Swords raised, he darted back toward Sokka instead.

It broke over her before she could stop it, before she could even think. The calm, the slowness, the clarity. Katara swung her arms around, and a wave whipped up from the river behind her and swung in a smooth arc to engulf Jet. Another small motion, and a spear of rock burst from the ground, slicing through Sokka's ropes. He made a rather undignified, high-pitched noise, but recovered himself quickly and scrambled out of the way before the wave smashed Jet against the tree in his place.

The clarity was gone as quickly as it had come, and Jet stared at her, wide-eyed.

"What the—"

Katara wasn't satisfied with that. Jet was stunned but still free. He was too dangerous for that. With a slow exhalation, she drew the water up from the grass and froze him in place against the tree.

"You don't know anything about me, Jet." She couldn't keep her voice from shaking a little. "You never will."

Sokka pushed himself back to his feet and ran to her side, club and boomerang bared. "Let's go," he said, voice firm. "Aang should be back with Appa any minute."

Numb, Katara nodded. She cast a final glance back at Jet, just long enough to see the look of shock—almost hurt—on his face before she jogged to catch up with Sokka again. She'd been so sure. So sure that Jet understood her, that deep down, he knew exactly what she was feeling. That there was a place in her life for him, and that there was space in his for her.

Sokka, to her surprise, said nothing. Aang found them even before they reached the bottom of the hill, and Sokka took his place near the front of the saddle while Katara settled in at the back. She wrapped her arms around herself and curled up in a ball.

Aang looked back over his shoulder. "Is everything okay? Do we need to go back and deal with Jet, or—"

Sokka shook his head. "No, Jet's taken care of."

Aang turned a concerned look on Katara. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Let's just get out of here while we can." The ice would hold Jet for a while, but the rest of the Freedom Fighters could still come looking for them. As much as she didn't feel like travelling, she was even less interested in facing another fight.

Aang made another worried face, but he snapped the reins and called Appa up into the air.

Katara felt Sokka's eyes on her and she curled up smaller. He wasn't gloating, which was nice. It felt weird, though.

"What? Just say it or stop staring."

"Say what?"

Katara groaned and let her head thump against her knees. "That you told me not to trust Jet."

Sokka made a thoughtful noise. "I did tell you that."

She looked up long enough to scowl at him.

"But," Sokka added, holding up his hand, "We got out. And that slimy bastard won't forget what happens when he crosses the Water Tribe any time soon."

That didn't help as much as Sokka probably intended. Katara felt her face heat, and her voice dropped near a whisper. "He saw me go into the Avatar State, didn't he?"

Sokka rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. I think he did."

She bit her lip and stared over the back of the saddle at the receding forest behind them. Jet could tell anyone. It would be bad enough if the Freedom Fighters found out who she was, but if any of them were ever captured, word could spread to the Fire Nation, and then—

Then it wouldn't just be Zuko chasing them. If word got out that there was another Avatar, there would be hundreds of new pursuers after them. Older and stronger and more dangerous than Zuko. Everywhere they turned would be Crescent Island all over again. She didn't know enough bending for that.

"Well," Sokka offered, "Think of it this way. Maybe he doesn't know what he saw. And he did get his ass kicked pretty good. I bet nobody will believe a word he says if he tries to give it away. They'll think it's just an excuse." He put on his best imitation of a girl's voice. "Oh, sure, Jet, you big, tough, chunk of man. I'm positive that you could never lose a fight unless some weird glowing person attacked you and froze you to a tree." He shrugged. "We'll probably be fine. What's he gonna do, spread rumors to the flying squirrel foxes?"

Katara forced a small smile and turned to watch the forest growing ever smaller behind them.


Author's Note:

I wanted to prove that I could do something resembling romance, but it's too early for real Zutara, and I can't resist the urge to kill the moment, so you're welcome for Jet's stupid piece of grass poking Katara in the eye. But more importantly, Jet is a jerk. A jerk with a horrible, tragic past, but a jerk nonetheless.

And Zhao is even worse on the jerk scale. I hate him so much.

Anyway, updates! I am making good progress on the next few chapters, but at this point, I can safely say that Chapter 17 won't be ready by next week. If I dropped everything and just dove into editing, maybe, but I'd rather keep up my momentum on drafting so I can finish another batch of chapters and have another weekly update spree in a while. In the meantime, I'm planning to finish up a Zutara oneshot to post next week just so I can say that I had a 10 week long posting streak. Because that's an accomplishment as far as I'm concerned. Ice & Smoke will be back as soon as I have Chapter 17 & 18 both ready to post (and I'm 3/4 done with drafting, so the wait shouldn't be too long)! Hope to see you all back for the next update!

Reviews are always appreciated!