Water

Fragile Alliance: Part 2

Somehow, everything felt both too fast and too slow all at once. Bits of debris rained into the water too fast, and Katara was too slow to dodge them. A warped piece of steel crashed into the waves just above her and skimmed by her arm, but Katara couldn't tell whether it hurt. And the flames, the smoke, the debris, they all lasted longer than they should while her lungs ran out of air and her heart raced faster than it should.

She was trapped. The surface was too far away for her to breathe, but too near for the water to properly shield her from the ongoing blast. And somewhere below her, Zuko was sinking, and even as time seemed to stretch out infinitely before her, Katara couldn't move fast enough for any of it.

She wasn't going to last. And Zuko was drifting away too.

Just as Katara's lungs ran out of air, there was a rush of clarity and light and energy. Her arms raised a bit, surrounding her in a pocket of air, and she felt her lungs fill up, then both hands swept overhead, forming a thick dome of ice. Bits of steel rained down on it, but the ice held fast, keeping the air in place, keeping the debris from striking her. And then, keeping one arm outstretched to hold the icy shield in place, she made a broad, scooping motion with the other hand, and Zuko's limp form began to rise from the depths.

By the time she came back to herself, he was draped over her back, big and heavy and motionless. And if his weight weren't enough to drag her downward, the hollow left behind by the Avatar State turned her limbs to lead. She was tired. The ice would shield her for a while longer, but as hard as she kicked, she couldn't seem to keep herself afloat, not with Zuko dangling limp over her shoulder, his weight dragging her downward.

It would be easier if she shook Zuko off. He couldn't help her swim back to shore. He was unconscious. Dead weight. Maybe even literally—Katara wasn't convinced that he was still breathing, and her own lungs, her own muscles were already straining to their limits to keep her own face above the surface. If she would just let him go—

With a tremendous effort, Katara froze an uneven cylinder of ice and tossed her free arm over it. She couldn't do it. She couldn't let go of Zuko. And if the ice could do even a little to help keep them both afloat, it had to be better than nothing.

For a little while, she just clung to her piece of ice, head hanging and kicking as little as she could while she tried to catch her breath. It wasn't enough. Even with the ice holding her up, she couldn't truly rest. Not yet. Not out here on the ocean.

Pressing her eyes shut in concentration, she swept one arm up just high enough to crack the husk of ice down the middle, then paddled furiously to reach the larger of the two pieces before she began to sink. This one, thankfully, was large enough to support her whole weight, and Katara hung limp from it for just a second before she turned on the spot, blinking through the smoke until she thought she could make out a clear path to shore. Though it looked like nothing more than an indistinct strip of gray in the distance, it would have to do. She had to make it that far.

Zuko's head hung limp against the hollow of her neck, and Katara did her best not to think about that. About anything. It took all her energy to keep the lump of ice from melting underneath them as she kicked her way across the bay, away from the smoldering wreckage, and toward a quiet, secluded scrap of coastline. There was no space left for thought. She knew that she had to reach shore as soon as possible. She knew that she had to do her best to stay out of sight.

She would rest when she got to land. Until then, she had no choice but to keep swimming.

By the time her feet made contact with solid ground, her muscles all felt like mush, and the ice keeping them from sinking was all but gone. She could have almost stood, but she hurt everywhere, and Zuko was far too heavy for her to carry. So she kept swimming instead, hauling them both forward until she could finally crawl out of the waves and collapse, water still lapping around her feet. That was far enough. It had to be.

For what felt like several minutes, all she could do was lie still on the rocky beach, aching and trying to catch her breath. She'd made it, somehow. She hurt everywhere, and she couldn't tell the pains apart—burns, cuts, bruises, they all felt the same right now.

They all hurt. And they all seemed equally likely.

It took a surprisingly long time before she remembered that Zuko was still sprawled on top of her, and she summoned all her strength to twist, rolling him to the side.

The motion, it seemed, jolted him just enough, and he started coughing, water spewing out of his mouth in short bursts. He was alive.

Shaking, Katara sat up, her breath coming a little easier without his weight on her chest. Uneasy relief flooded her from the bottom up. All that effort hadn't been for nothing. He was still breathing. Terrible as he sounded, he had survived.

She wished she knew whether that was a good thing or not.

At last, the coughing came to an end, and Zuko's eyes opened a slit, just enough for his hazy golden irises to find Katara's.

Instinctively, she leaned away, out of his reach. She wouldn't have needed to. He blinked only once before his eyes rolled back and he went limp once again.

Good. At least if Zuko was still unconscious, she didn't have to decide on her next steps yet. She could take a little more time to rest.

Letting out a slow breath, Katara tried to lean back on her hands, but pain jolted outward from the center of her palms. With a gasp, she pulled her hands into her lap and cradled them together until the pain subsided. The skin was red and swollen, burned from her palms halfway up to her elbows. She should have guessed as much.

Slowly, gingerly, she edged her way back to the water and plunged her hands in. Maybe it wouldn't help. Maybe the salt would just make the burns ache more, but she had to try something. She'd made it this far. She couldn't let the pain win now.

Clenching her eyes shut, Katara willed away the sharp, throbbing ache. Through her eyelids, she thought she saw a glow, and the ache faded.

That probably didn't mean anything. The small relief from the cool water on her burned hands probably just made them feel better by comparison with the rest of her—all the cuts and bruises and sore, strained muscles. But when she opened her eyes, her hands were smooth and brown again, like the burns had never been there at all.

What? She dropped back to sit by the edge of the water, and immediately regretted it when a few of her bruises hit the rocky, uneven ground too hard. But her hands were fine. The burns were gone. She hadn't imagined them, had she?

Frowning, she pulled a tendril of water out from the ocean and held it against a particularly nasty bruise by her elbow. As she watched and willed the water to do it again, there was a faint bluish white glow, and when she pulled the water away again, the bruise was gone.

How long had she been able to do that?

She checked herself over for other bruises and burns, holding water against each of them in turn until the water went bright and the pain faded away. Even a shallow gash that ran from her shoulder halfway down to her elbow closed up at the water's command. At times, the saltwater stung so badly that her eyes watered, but one by one, she wiped away each and every injury she could find.

When she was through, Katara could hardly move. Aside from the tired ache in her muscles, nothing hurt anymore, but her energy was spent. Exhausted, she pulled her knees up to her chest, and her eyes drifted back to Zuko, still lying motionless beside her. His hair had come loose from its binding and it hung in glossy black streaks down his neck and across his face, and little rivulets of red water streamed out of a wound just behind his ear.

He could have died. Katara had to wonder how aware he'd been of that danger. He'd known that someone was plotting to destroy the ship with them both inside—Katara didn't have to strain her mind very far to guess whose idea that had been. Zuko had known the extent of Zhao's anger just as well as Katara. Better than, probably. And yet he'd still spared the time to come for her. He'd gone out of his way to free her from the cell and lead her as close to safety as he could.

Had he expected more time? Was that it? Did he think that they had all the time in the world to make their escape? That would make the most sense. If Zuko thought they'd be able to make a clean escape, then maybe he'd been planning to imprison her again as soon as they were free. Or maybe he'd been planning to let her run just far enough ahead to lure Aang out of hiding so he could finally capture them both.

But he'd taken the shackles off when she asked. He'd called her by her name. He'd shielded her from flames for the second time in a single day, and he could have drowned for his trouble. He very nearly had drowned,and his shallow, rasping breaths still didn't sound encouraging.

She watched him for a while, the steady stream of blood leaking from the wound on his head, and the slight, shuddering movement of his chest when he breathed.

Don't ask me that. If I have to answer, we'll never get out of here in time.

He must have known how little time they had. He must have known how close they were to being blown into a million tiny pieces, how much better his chances of escaping unscathed would have been if he'd gone alone. And yet he hadn't left her behind. He hadn't even seemed to consider it.

Katara couldn't understand that. Zuko was a firebender. Saving her life was the last thing he was supposed to do. Nearly getting himself killed over it was even worse.

A shiver ran up her spine, and she curled inward, wrapping her arms around herself. In the waning afternoon, still half-soaked, she was cold, but that wasn't all of it. She could have died. She'd come so close to the edge, and if it weren't for Zuko—if he hadn't come for her, she wouldn't have broken the door down soon enough. If he hadn't led her through the dim, unfamiliar corridors, she would have walked straight into the explosion. If he hadn't held back the flames, she would have burned.

Why? He wasn't supposed to do things like this. He was supposed to be an enemy.

But she'd told him to prove that he was better than Zhao. This—this proved it.

She couldn't decide whether she was grateful that he was unconscious or not. On the one hand, she didn't have to admit that he'd proved her wrong. She didn't have to decide whether to thank him. But on the other, she couldn't ask why he'd done it. The uncertainty, the confusion, they were stuck with her for as long as his eyes stayed closed.

She couldn't wait for him to wake up either. She knew that. So long as there was even the slightest chance that this had all been a miscalculation, that he'd taken her to safety just to try to capture her again, she had to get away.

She looked his way again, at all the cuts and bruises and burns she could see. The one just behind his ear was particularly bad—it kept seeping blood, and she had a feeling that whatever had struck him was the reason he was unconscious. The reason he'd come so close to drowning.

Slowly, without thinking, Katara pushed herself up to her hands and knees and scooted a little closer to him. She didn't owe Zuko anything. He'd saved her life, and she'd returned the favor once. There was no reason to do anything more.

She summoned a bit of water from the ocean and held it against the back of his head, willing something to happen. Maybe it wouldn't work. Maybe she could only heal herself, and this was just a waste of precious time and effort. But as she concentrated, the water started to glow, then a point of brighter light traced along the edges of the wound until the skin underneath was whole again.

The water dropped out of her control, and his eyelids flickered but refused to open.

Good. Katara held her hand a few inches over his chest and felt for any remaining water in his lungs, then slowly, carefully, guided it up and out. Once he'd coughed his lungs dry and his ragged breathing began to steady, Katara staggered to her feet.

There. She was more tired than before, but she tried to tell herself that it was worth the trouble. Zuko was going to live. And now they were even again. He may be better than the rest of his countrymen, but he wasn't the only one who could save an enemy's life.

As she started picking her way along the shoreline, she pulled the water out of her clothes and let it drop to the ground. She'd lost her Water Tribe outfit at some point, but she'd probably have a better chance of blending in without it. If she could risk going into the village. With Zhao's crew milling around the town, that might be too dangerous. She might be better off to turn straight for the hills and find some secluded part of the forest to hide in until the firebenders left and she could begin her search for the boys.

Slowly, achingly, she turned and started up the slope. It would be a long trek over the first few treeless hills before she found shelter in a forest, but she could make it. And by morning, if she was lucky, the ships would be gone. She could return to the village for help after that, and everything would be fine.

Including Zuko. As long as he didn't do anything stupid when he woke up, he'd make it.

I could not save my son. Katara heard the general's voice in her ear, and she stopped short. But I hoped to do better for my nephew.

Eyes inexplicably burning, she clenched her hands into fists. She shouldn't care. It wasn't her problem if the general thought that Zuko was dead. She'd already saved Zuko's life. She didn't owe him anything more.

Except—she glanced back over her shoulder, at Zuko lying limp on the rocky beach, still soaking wet.

Except maybe this wasn't for Zuko. The general cared about Zuko. He'd been kind to Katara, and he'd stepped in to shield them both when Zhao tried to burn her and Zuko pushed her out of the way. Maybe pointing the general in the right direction was a favor for the general, not for Zuko.

She shook her head. She couldn't even fool herself into believing that. But she couldn't separate a family, Fire Nation or not. She was a better person than that. She had to be.

Letting out a slow breath, she turned to follow the shoreline back toward the village.


"This is truly a tragic day for our nation." Zhao made some semblance of an effort at sincerity. "I feel for your loss, General Iroh."

Iroh stared out over the wreckage. He couldn't tell how long it had been since he last moved. Hours, possibly. He had no strong inclination to ever move again. What was the use in leaving this spot when his nephew—his son—was gone?

The universe had a cruel sense of justice. Taking away the innocent and leaving behind the guilty—there could be nothing crueler. Even the scorched scrap of pale blue fabric that had washed up at his feet as though to confirm the second loss could make little impact now.

"It's a wonder that the disaster spared so many lives," Zhao continued. "Considering the damage to the ship, I would have expected the engines to go sooner than that. I know it's not much of a consolation, but—"

Iroh knew better than that. The engines had been damaged, but those repairs were complete before they ever approached Pohuai. Even before that, the damage to the engines hadn't been enough to set off so much as a stray spark. The hull had been the real danger, and that could never have caused such a catastrophe. That could never have brought the ship down without further meddling.

No, none of this was an accident. Iroh had spent too much of his life serving the Fire Nation, living amongst its royalty and its commanders to believe in such 'accidents'. And he knew enough about Zhao to know exactly who had put the plan into action.

Anger would come. It would take time, but sooner or later, Iroh's grief would make way for rage that would tear Zhao apart. For the loss of his nephew and, to an extent, for the loss of the young Avatar as well. With Zuko gone, Iroh had no family left. With Zuko and Avatar Katara both gone, he could see very little hope left for the world.

But for now, there was only grief. Raw, burning emptiness in the center of his chest where his nephew should have been.

Iroh never should have left him alone. He could have warned Zuko, could have pulled him from the flames and spared him. At the very least, he could have gone along with him so Zuko didn't have to make the journey into oblivion on his own.

"Damn this northern weather." Zhao shifted and stamped his feet. "Barely cold and still there's snow."

Iroh didn't look up to see what the admiral was talking about, but a lone flake drifted past his eyes and settled on his sleeve. He watched it. There was nothing else to be done.

The little snowflake was imperfect, asymmetrical and ragged along the edges, but there was something else about it. Something odd. Something—almost unnatural. Iroh couldn't place what it was exactly. But then he exhaled, and the snowflake shivered but didn't melt. Iroh held his breath, and the flake seemed to reshape itself.

It wasn't possible. Iroh was probably imagining things, probably skirting the edge of grief-induced madness. But he had to know for sure.

He looked back at Zhao. "With respect, Admiral, I would prefer to be alone. I will reach a decision about the Northern Water Tribe after I have had a chance to say my goodbyes."

"Of course, General Iroh." Zhao bowed low, a mockery of respect if Iroh had ever seen one. "I will await your decision eagerly."

Iroh nodded, then frowned after Zhao's retreating back. Snow could not fall without clouds in the sky, nor when it was this warm, and more than anything else, it could not survive a firebender's breath. He knew better than to hope, but there was only one explanation he could think of. Only one place the unnatural snow could have come from, and only one person who could have summoned it.

He waited until Zhao was gone, until the stretch of surrounding shoreline was completely abandoned before he moved. Slowly, cautiously, he turned on the spot, searching the spaces between boulders, beneath bushes, and in tufts of thick undergrowth.

Then, from between two thorny bushes, a small and tired face encircled by unruly dark curls poked out at him.

Iroh's breath caught in his chest. For an instant, he could neither believe nor trust what he saw. Avatar Katara should not have survived. His mind was probably just playing tricks on him in a desperate attempt at believing that Zuko had survived as well. He'd seen scraps of the young Avatar's blue dress floating in the water, after all.

But this version wore her green tunic, scorched in places along the hems, and when she tried to wave, a thorny branch scraped her arm. She winced, and Iroh remembered how to breathe. He was fairly confident that he would not have imagined that.

He took a step closer. The poor girl was disheveled and exhausted, but remarkably she appeared otherwise unharmed.

"Are you all right?" Iroh asked quietly, still several paces away. "Where is—"

She held up a hand to stop him coming any closer. Iroh obeyed.

He's that way, she mouthed, pointing north along the coastline. Then, without pausing for a response, she wriggled her way backward through the bushes, ducked from one boulder to the next, and began to run up the hill.


Her legs felt like lead. She'd managed a short burst of running, just far enough to get out of sight, but now her energy was depleted again. Every plodding step seemed to take more strength than the last, and no matter how far she walked, the crest of the hill crept farther and farther away from her.

Still, she kept going. Exhausted or not, she couldn't stop. She had to put as much distance as she could between her and the still-smoking husk of the ship, between her and the firebenders who'd tried to kill them. Between her and Zuko. Exhausted or not, she had to reach the forests on the other side of the ridge so she could keep herself hidden. Even the general, as grateful as he had seemed to see her, as relieved as he had been when she pointed him toward Zuko, couldn't be trusted. He was still Fire Nation. He was still Zuko's uncle. Relief and gratitude couldn't change that.

Katara, for her part, was almost grateful for the exhaustion clouding her thoughts. If she was too tired to think, she was too tired to wonder. If she was too tired to wonder, then she didn't have to ask herself why Zuko had done it. Why he'd thrown her out of the way and tried to shield her from the flames, why he'd risked his own life to get her off the ship in time. Why he'd done any of it when he had no way of knowing that Katara would return the favor when things went wrong.

She couldn't bear to think about any of that. If Zuko had saved her so he'd have another chance to capture her, it would hurt. She didn't want to know why that possibility was so painful. They weren't friends.

And at the same time, it was even worse if Zuko didn't have any ulterior motives—if he'd discovered something like a conscience. If he'd only saved her because it was the right thing to do. The world was already too complicated without a Fire Nation prince deciding that he wanted to be a good person.

Worst of all, a small part of her suspected that Zuko might be able to make that choice. He listened to her. He questioned himself. He went out of his way to be better. If he'd changed his ways—

She stumbled over a grassy lump and caught herself on her hands.

Too tired to even feel the sting, she pushed herself back up again. She had to keep going. The sun was sinking closer to the horizon, its heat waning even as her forehead dripped with exertion. If she couldn't find shelter soon, it was going to be a very long, very cold, very restless night.

One step at a time, she picked her way slowly up the hill, keeping her eyes fixed downward, planning each step like it was the most important thing in the world. In a way, it was. Right now, each step was all she could think about, all she could spend her energy on.

When she could finally see over the ridge and down into the trees on the far side of the hill, she allowed herself a moment to rest. Finally. Finally she was getting close.

From somewhere above her, a screech tore through the air. Katara almost didn't look up. It was probably a bird of some sort, nothing worth her time or her precious remaining energy. But she turned her head anyway, shielding her eyes against the setting sun. The thing was small and furry, with big, pointy ears, and—

"Momo!" she screamed, and the lemur rocketed into her arms.

Tears welled up as she squeezed Momo, pressing her face into his soft fur. She'd missed him. She'd missed him so much, and if Momo was here, then that had to mean—that meant that—

Holding Momo tight in her arms, she turned in a slow circle, squinting and blinking into the brightness of the sky. The boys had to be close, they had to be. Momo never strayed too far away from Aang if he could help it.

There. Way, way up, almost directly above her, Appa was circling his way down.

Katara's throat was so tight that it hurt to swallow, it hurt to breathe. As she watched them coming closer and closer, she held onto Momo for dear life. She couldn't be imagining this. If Momo was here, then Appa and the boys had to be real too.

Almost before the bison hit the ground, Sokka launched himself out of the saddle, and then he was running, and Katara thought she was running too. She crashed into him, laughing and crying at the same time, tears streaming down her face and blurring her vision.

"You're here," she sniffled into his shoulder. "I can't believe it, you're really here."

Sokka's skinny arms wrapped even tighter around her. "Yeah, we're here. Where else would we be?" His voice wavered a little bit.

Katara leaned against him. She wasn't sure her legs could hold her anymore, but it didn't matter now. She could cry, she could collapse, she could do anything, and Sokka would be there to catch her.

But for now, all she could do was hold on, clinging to him with all the strength she had left to prove to herself that this was real, that he wasn't going anywhere. That she wasn't alone. That she didn't have to figure out any plans without their help.

It took a long time before she could finally open her eyes and raise her head enough to see Aang hanging a few steps back. She wiped her eyes and tried to straighten.

"Hi, Aang."

"Hi, Katara."

She managed a wobbly smile and motioned him over. She couldn't quite bring herself to pull away from Sokka, but she squeezed Aang's hand. "I really, really missed you both."

Sokka poked her in the shoulder. "That's enough of the weepy stuff, got it?" He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffed. "This is a good thing. No crying about good things."

She laughed, the tears still blurring her vision. Of course he'd play the tough guy and pretend he wasn't crying too. "Shut up, Sokka." She squeezed him again.

He was here. They'd found her.

"Yeah, yeah." Keeping an arm draped around her shoulders, Sokka squeezed back. He craned his neck a little to look over her head and down into the bay. "You know, we had this whole plan to get you out. It was gonna be awesome, but—I guess you did pretty good yourself."

"Hmm?" Katara's eyelids were beginning to feel very, very heavy.

"The ship. We saw the smoke, but I had no idea you blew it up."

Oh. Drawing in a shaky breath, Katara looked back. By now, there was almost nothing left of the ship, just a few spikes of steel standing up from the waves and smoldering remnants of the docks. Nothing that resembled Zuko's ship. Nothing that would even be recognizable if she hadn't been there for the explosion.

She shook her head, and her voice came out small and raw. "That wasn't me."

"The Avatar State, whatever."

"Still wasn't me, Sokka."

He looked down at her, brows furrowed. "You—" With a sigh, he shook his head. "Whatever. At least we won't have to worry about Zuko anymore. A few less firebenders in the world is always a good thing."

Katara shook her head again. Her eyes prickled a bit, and her inhalation was shaky, but everything else felt steadier.

"Zuko survived too."

She didn't have the energy to dwell on the reasons for that bone-deep relief. In fact, now that the boys were here, now that she was safe with them, she didn't have the energy for much of anything. She stood as straight as she could, pulling away from Sokka by just an inch or so.

"Can we please get out of here? Right now?"

She felt Sokka's gaze turn her way, but thankfully he didn't ask any more questions. She didn't think she could answer any of them.

"Yeah. 'Course we can."


Everything was dark. Everything hurt. Thoughts and snatches of sound kept drifting past him, but no matter how hard Zuko tried to catch them, they slipped through his fingers and spiraled away, out of his reach.

Maybe this was just the way things were going to be now. A world of darkness, a world of hazy pain and indistinct voices around him. Maybe it wasn't so bad. At least there was warmth. At least there was stillness. He couldn't remember much of that before.

Something cool and damp dabbed his forehead, and Zuko tried to pull away, but even that small movement hurt his head and his midsection. His eyes squeezed a little tighter shut.

Oh. That was why it was so dark. His eyes were closed.

It took a surprising amount of effort to pry his eyelids open, and when he did, he had to press them shut again. The world was entirely too bright. A few seconds passed before he tried again, and he blinked until hazy shapes started to take form around him.

Who was that hovering over him? The gray hair, the beard—

"Uncle?" he croaked, his throat raw and his voice weak.

"I'm here, Prince Zuko. You're safe."

Was he? He couldn't remember much, but safety sounded foreign to him. What had happened? He remembered a ship—his ship? Then a pungent smell, then keys rattling, then a warm, slender hand clasped in his, and flames.

So many flames.

Too many.

Then, after the flames, a brief, dreamlike flash of blue eyes staring down at him.

That was all he could think of. Those eyes, that face, that hand clasped in his own.

"Uncle, where is Katara?"

Uncle's eyes widened just a fraction, and a hand came to rest on Zuko's shoulder. "She is safe, my nephew. Safe, and a long, long way from here."

He wasn't sure why, but when Zuko let out a slow breath, his chest ached a little less.

"Good," he whispered, and his eyes slipped shut again.


Author's Note:

So that part where Katara reunites with the boys? I cried at least three separate times while working on that scene. I'm turning into a sap, but I'm also just really friggin' proud of how all the buildup over the last *checks notes* uh... 15-ish chapters led up to EVERYTHING in these last few.

(I will admit that part of mereallywanted to keep Zuko and Katara together, but I just... couldn't imagine Katara agreeing to that quite yet. Don't worry. They'll meet up again ;) )

There are a ton of other things I could yell about on this chapter (and the last few that I haven't said much about), like the fact that Zuko had his big change of heart in a town called 'Crisis' or the fact that Katara never once referred to any part of the cell as 'hers' (but she eventually claimed the EK outfit as her own), but Zuko considered it hers from the beginning, or—you get the point. I have a lot I could ramble about. But I'm forgetting a lot of those things, so I'm going to leave it there.

I really hope you all liked it! I'm so happy that I finally got to post it, and I'd love to hear what you think!