Water

The Message

For all that Zuko had initially been annoyed by the group's noise, he found that he couldn't begrudge it on their journey back to the city. In fact, he was almost grateful for it. For as long as they kept up their chatter, Zuko could pretend to forget about General Bujing, about the letter tucked down the front of his parka.

At least for a little while, he could try to silence that part of his mind.

"What about the Cinder Night festival in the eastern islands?" Aang pressed excitedly. At some point in their flight, Sokka had taken over the reins, and the monk had been using his new position in the middle of the saddle to squeeze Zuko for information—most of it pointless—ever since. "My friend Kuzon and I went to that a couple of times, and it was a lot of fun. Does the Fire Nation still have that?"

"I don't know," Zuko said. His voice still felt a little stiff—it was hard, if not impossible to match the level of enthusiasm that Aang seemed to consistently radiate. But the fact that Aang only seemed to care about festivals and animals and century-old snacks made it a little easier to answer.

"How do you not know? It's one of the best parties in the whole world."

"Because I didn't grow up in the eastern islands. And even if I had, it's not like my father would've wanted us going out and mingling with the public."

"But that's the best part of any party!'

Zuko raised his good eyebrow. "Maybe for you. I've never been to a party that I actually enjoyed."

Katara snorted. "Is that the excuse you gave the general about music night?"

His face heated, and he glared at her. "I never went to music night because my crew sounded like a bunch of drunken badgerfrogs. Besides, they already hated me. I doubt that would have changed if I'd listened to Uncle and played the tsungi horn for them."

"So it had nothing at all to do with you dressing up as Masky while the general kept the rest of your crew busy, hmm?"

"Where did you get the idea that I—"

"Who is Masky?" Yue interrupted, her tone light and curious.

The complete lack of derision caught him off guard, and before Zuko could respond, Katara leapt back in. Damn it. He was lousy with people. He knew that. But how was he even worse with people when they were polite?

"Masky is a costume that a certain firebender used to wear to rob pirate ships and kidnap people," Katara said. She smirked across at him. "Or to attempt to rob and kidnap. I don't think it ever actually worked."

"No thanks to you," he grumbled, glaring at her. Then, in a clearer voice, he added, "And I keep telling you that there's no such thing as Masky. That's a name that you made up."

"It was either that or something a lot less flattering."

Zuko narrowed his eyes at her.

"I think it's a good name," Aang said brightly. "It's descriptive. And it's accurate."

"See?" Katara interjected, sounding just a little smug. "And besides, I probably did you a favor by coming up with such a brilliant new nickname. Obviously, you didn't want anyone to know that it was you dressing up and causing trouble, and this way, I'm not accidentally giving away your secret identity."

His brows furrowed. "That's definitely not how any of this works."

"Isn't it?"

With a scoff, Zuko shook his head. It didn't escape his notice that she'd been watching him fairly closely since they'd all passed the letter around and Zuko had tucked it away again. That wasn't terribly strange, but the fact that she was playing along with the conversation—adding to the distraction rather than pushing for more information—was enough to make him wonder a little. "I think I liked it better when Aang was interrogating me about parties."

"Really?" Aang perked up, then paused for just a second. Then, "Oh! Fireworks! Do they still set off the ones that look like dragons for the summer solstice?"

Zuko rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. That wasn't meant to be encouragement of any sort. "How would I know that? There were still fireworks when I was a kid at the palace, but that doesn't mean that things haven't changed since then."

"Have you been away from home for quite some time?" Yue asked.

"Yeah." His voice came out quiet, almost hollow, and he had to look downward. "Three years."

"I'm sorry. That must be difficult."

Clenching his jaw, he shrugged. "Banishment isn't meant to be easy." He could feel the quiet growing heavier on the air, and his hands tightened into fists.

Perfect. He'd been doing so well keeping his distance from the subject, and now he'd stumbled into it headfirst. It was only a matter of time before someone asked him the reason for his banishment, before the questions dug deep enough to find the link to General Bujing, and the whole, terrible story came out.

Zuko didn't think that he could take that. There was a reason why he'd gone so long without telling anyone the truth. He didn't want to talk about it. Not now. Probably not ever.

Katara broke the silence first. "When you left home—where did you go first?"

"What?"

"I just—" She looked down at her hands. "I'm just curious. I mean, I know that you were looking for Aang and me. But—how do you even start looking for someone like that?"

His muscles relaxed a little. That was a safe enough question. A weird question, but safe.

Zuko gave a small, one-sided shrug. "Uncle decided where to go at first. I was—" Too sick to get out of bed. Convinced that I would die before I could focus my eyes well enough to read a map again. "—not really sure what I was doing for the first few weeks. It took about a month before I took over and we started searching all the Air Temples."

Her gaze seemed to intensify even further, and she leaned ever so slightly forward. "But which direction did you go first?"

He hesitated. "North. Why?"

Katara colored and looked away, leaning against the far edge of the saddle. "No reason. I was just—curious."

That was so transparent a lie that even Zuko recognized it. He had half formed a response when Yue interjected again.

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear that all of you had known each other for ages."

Zuko glanced toward Katara, and their eyes locked briefly. His pulse quickened. He didn't know about the others—he certainly didn't feel like he knew them well, but Katara—she was different. Zuko was no good with people, but he could manage with her. It felt like they understood one another.

"I guess—it sort of feels like it's been a long time," Katara said. "A few months isn't exactly short, and they were some very eventful months."

Zuko snorted. "There's an understatement," he murmured. Those few months had been all it took to persuade him to commit treason. To turn against his own mission, against Zhao, in order to help a former enemy. That was an extreme shift no matter how he thought about it. Even if he had begun down this path mostly to spite Zhao.

Zuko might have reached the same point regardless. Without Zhao's interference, Katara would have eventually succeeded in breaking the door to her cell, and one way or another, she would have found her way off the ship. Though he wouldn't have freed her, Zuko didn't think that he could have found it in his heart to take her prisoner a second time. He might have chased her for a time, but eventually, he'd have given up on ever capturing either Avatar. He'd have lost his purpose in giving up on his mission and turned to wandering instead.

The difference, he supposed, was that Zhao made it easier to change course. By threatening them both, Zhao had pushed Zuko right past aimlessness and into a new purpose. It was weird, but he thought that he might almost be—grateful for that. He still couldn't stand Zhao. He still wanted to stop him. But he couldn't imagine how else he could have ended up here, working alongside Katara. Uncomfortable as it was, he had to give Zhao credit for that.

"Hey," Sokka called back from his spot at the reins. "Look alive, guys. City walls up ahead. Is everybody ready?"

"Yep!" Aang called, holding up the scribble-filled map. "I have your drawings."

Yue nodded too. "I'm afraid we're later than I promised Father I'd return, but I suppose that's as good a reason as any for us to speak with him."

"Good." Sokka glanced back over his shoulder. "And Katara?"

She looked at Zuko again, then nodded. "As ready as we can be. As long as we can keep the hawk quiet until we get to the house, I think we'll be fine."

Zuko drew in a long, slow breath. He was less confident. Of the five of them, he was the only one who had even a chance at writing a letter convincing enough to make it to Uncle, and unfortunately, the only somewhat safe place for him to write a letter to Uncle was at the house where Katara and the others had been living. In the city. Right in the middle of the Water Tribe. Where he was still the enemy and more likely to be killed than given a chance to explain himself.

Katara had insisted earlier that it would be fine—it would be dark by the time that they returned to the city, and she'd go along to make certain that no one saw him, or if they did, to cause enough of a distraction to allow him to escape. Though the sky was rapidly growing dark, and Katara was the only person he trusted to make a real effort at keeping him hidden, Zuko was unconvinced about the rest. People knew Katara. People liked Katara. Who was to say that some acquaintance wouldn't stop them along the way to talk to her, only to realize that Zuko was definitely not meant to be there?

That would be dangerous for both of them.

The bison landed surprisingly gently at the edge of the city, and as the others piled off, Katara dug through the haphazard pile of supplies at the back of the saddle until she managed to produce an empty shoulder bag roughly the same size as the hawk.

There was a bit of squawking and flapping before Zuko managed to calm the hawk enough to tuck her safely into the bag, but once she was enclosed, she quieted again.

Katara let out a slow breath, her hand resting next to his on top of the bag. "That was easier than I thought it would be."

Zuko grimaced. "I wouldn't count on saying that again for a while."

She rolled her eyes, and there was a pat as she gave his arm a light whack. "Come on, Mister Pessimist. We aren't going to get anything done with that attitude." She dropped down from the saddle, and Zuko followed a bit more cautiously to keep from squashing the bag full of messenger hawk.

"Got everything?" Sokka asked.

"Yes, Sokka," Katara replied, just the slightest edge of annoyance creeping into her tone. "Do you have everything?"

"Obviously." There was a brief pause, then Sokka stepped forward to give Katara a quick hug. "Freeze his ass to the ground if he tries anything funny."

"Sokka."

"I'm just saying." Sokka pulled back far enough that Zuko was able to shoot him a glare, which Sokka repaid with a presumably rude gesture. "Don't wait up for us."

"You either," Katara replied, apparently ignoring the silent exchange. She stepped back beside Zuko.

Just before the others turned to go, Yue spoke one more time. "Prince Zuko—in case I don't see you for a while, I need to thank you again. Your help means more than you know."

He felt his face go hot. "I, um—no problem." He broke off there, struggling for more words. Surely he was supposed to say more than that, wasn't he?

Katara's hands closed softly around his elbow. "Let's go, Zuko. This letter won't write itself."


A few weeks ago—a few days ago, even, the idea of walking into the city with Zuko by her side would have been unfathomable. It was still nerve-wracking. What if somebody saw him? From a distance, he was relatively inconspicuous—wearing a Northern Tribe parka, hood pulled up to cover his hair and part of his face—but his pants and his boots were still Fire Nation, and his face, while hardly one that anyone in the Northern Tribe would recognize, was very distinctive. If anyone came near enough to get a good look, they'd know that he was an outsider in an instant. And figuring out that Zuko was Fire Nation wouldn't take much longer than that.

Just the thought of that made her insides clench up. Partly because the idea of being caught harboring a firebender was—unpleasant, to say the least. But mostly because of Zuko. She didn't want anything to happen to him. Which was a strange enough realization in its own right. The fact that nothing about her protectiveness felt new to her was downright bizarre.

Of course, if anyone asked her, Katara would absolutely lie about it. She cared enough about Zuko to want him safe, and she didn't know exactly when that feeling had started, and frankly it was no one else's business but her own.

She kept close to his side and walked as quickly as she could without breaking into a jog. The sky was dark by the time they made it into the city, and the streets were illuminated by faint glimmers of lamplight shining through thick panes of ice, but it still wasn't that late. Not late enough to count on the streets staying empty.

She could feel the tension radiating off of Zuko too, and it took a surprising measure of restraint to keep herself from reaching for his hand. He was fine. He was keeping his head down, eyes fixed on the ground to keep more of his face hidden, but it wasn't like he was going to get lost. Still, she found herself thinking about it, and her hand occasionally swung a little closer to his, almost near enough to grab hold.

She managed to suppress the urge until they were within sight of the house, then grabbed his wrist, dragged him to the door at a near run, and pushed him into the house ahead of her. Once the door was shut behind them, she rested back against the wall for a second.

"Made it," she breathed. In the dark of the house, she couldn't see much more than a shadow where Zuko stood, but somehow, he still managed to look tense. She nudged his arm. "Relax. If anyone was going to catch us, it would've happened already."

"That's very reassuring," he said dryly. Then, after a pause, "Is there someone else here?"

She could hear the rustling too, and though he wouldn't be able to see it, she shook her head. "No. That's just Momo. He doesn't like the cold very much." Crouching, she clucked her tongue. "Momo! Come here, buddy. Don't make me step on you in the dark." As soon as the lemur approached, she scooped him up onto her shoulder and began feeling her way along the wall. "There should be a lamp right over—"

Behind her, a flame flickered to life, and she turned back to find Zuko holding a flame in one hand with the hawk in its bundle still tucked under the other arm.

He raised his single eyebrow at Katara. "What?"

Pursing her lips, she looked away. The little golden flame dancing over his palm was pretty, but she wasn't about to tell him that. "Sometimes I still forget that firebending can actually be useful."

With an irritated huff, Zuko stomped past her. As he held his flame up to the wick of the lamp, he said, "I'm still not convinced that waterbending can be."

"Hey!" She elbowed him. "I'm not trying to insult your bending."

"So what are you trying to do?"

Katara watched the flame dancing between his hand and the wick, then fading away from his hand as the lamp warmed and burned a little brighter. "I'm just saying—I've seen a lot of firebending in my life, and there have only really been two people who don't make it seem—terrifying all the time." Her eyes flicked toward Zuko's. "I'm starting to think that I might enjoy learning some of it."

He held her gaze for just a moment or two before he looked away. "You should probably worry about your own element first."

"I know that." What, did he think that she was asking him to teach her? Because she wasn't. Definitely not. The fact that she enjoyed sparring with him didn't mean that she wanted him to become her teacher.

Yet.

She scratched Momo under the chin and snuck a quick glance at Zuko. Firebending was a long way off for her. She knew that. There was no way of knowing when she'd get around to learning how to firebend, or where she would be when that happened. But right now—if she had her choice right now, Zuko would probably be her first choice for a firebending teacher. Or possibly her second choice. It depended on whether she could find the general or not. He seemed like a good teacher.

Zuko was a little red, and he cleared his throat. "Can I let the hawk out, or is the lemur going to try ripping out her feathers or something?"

"Oh!" Katara grabbed Momo off of her shoulder, dropped him on her bed, and closed the door. "Now we don't have to worry about that."

Zuko rolled his eyes, but then opened the bag and produced the very rumpled and dazed-looking bird before taking a seat on the mound of furs by the low table in the center of the room.

Katara pulled their writing supplies down from a shelf before joining him at the table. He'd pulled the message tube back out, and he seemed fixated on the letter's contents again. Not in a good way. His shoulders were hunched, and his brows furrowed—much like when they'd all taken turns reading the letter earlier.

She wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder—just enough to remind him that he wasn't alone—but she shoved the impulse back down. "Have you thought about what we're going to tell your uncle?" she asked instead.

He didn't seem to hear her.

She poked his arm. "Zuko?"

He jumped. "What? Did—did you say something?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I asked what we were going to tell your uncle."

"Oh." He swallowed visibly, then shoved the letter away and dug through the writing supplies for a fresh piece of paper. "I—um. I'm not sure yet." His forehead kept creasing and uncreasing like some other thought was still consuming him. "I don't know if Zhao has censors going threw the fleet's letters when they arrive or not. I don't want to get Uncle in trouble."

"What would happen if he did get into trouble with Zhao?"

Zuko sighed and rubbed his eyes briefly before selecting a brush and a jar of ink. "I don't know. Nothing good." He paused. "I really don't want to think about it."

That was beginning to feel like a pattern today. Nothing was simple. Nothing was easy to deal with, or even to face. It was all big and complicated and scary. And if all of this scared Katara, then she couldn't even imagine how Zuko felt. It was his nation they were fighting, his uncle trapped in the thick of the enemy fleet, and his safety being threatened from every side. At least the rest of them could rely on the protection of the Northern Tribe. Zuko—he barely had anyone.

"I guess it doesn't matter," she said. "We're not going to say anything that would get him in trouble."

Zuko snorted. "You're way too optimistic."

She shrugged. "Someone has to be. How else would we get anything done?" She reached across the table. "Can I see that letter again?"

With a small grunt, he passed the letter to her, then began playing with the brush, testing its still-dry bristles against the table.

Katara skimmed the letter as quickly as she could. At least none of its contents surprised her this time—not the grandiose posturing over whether Zhao or Bujing ranked higher in the Fire Lord's opinion, not the thinly veiled insults they hurled at one another, and not even the suggestion that everyone else was expendable. Zuko had taken the time to explain that part—how General Bujing had once sacrificed an entire division of new soldiers to win a battle and won the Fire Lord's approval in the process. It was chilling, she couldn't deny that.

But she remembered the way that Zuko had reacted to the letter. How he'd frozen at the mere sight of it, and how it had taken him an agonizing amount of time to finally unfurl the letter. There was something else there, something deeper than the contents themselves seemed to explain.

"Zuko?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

She felt him look her way. Then, "I guess. Doubt I could stop you."

Katara allowed the letter to roll back up. "Why did the letter bother you so much?"

"Are you kidding?" In an instant, his voice had gone tight enough to crack. "You saw what he said. What he's willing to do to people. You can't think that I'd—what kind of monster do you think I am?"

"What?" Her voice came out much higher than normal. "I never said that you agreed with him. That's not even close—"

"So what did you mean?"

"The name on the letter," Katara answered. "As soon as you saw it, you froze up. Why is that? You hadn't even read what he said yet. How is this General Bujing so bad that even his name bothered you that much?"

His mouth opened and closed a few times, and he looked away. "It's—I told you what he's known for. Isn't that enough?"

"It could be." She kept her voice soft. "I don't think that's it, though. It just—it really seems like there's more to it." Her hand accidentally slid a little closer to his, and she didn't try to pull back. "Anything you can tell us will help."

His hands clenched into fists. "You wouldn't understand."

She wanted to be angry. She wanted to inform him that she wasn't stupid—that she couldn't understand if he'd never give her a chance, and that wasn't her fault.

Instead, she jutted out her chin. "Try me."

"Ugh." He ran a hand over his hair. "It's just—General Bujing is what Zhao wishes he could be. He's—ruthless. And competent." He paused. "My father values Bujing's opinion so much that disagreeing with him once was enough to get me banished."

Katara's stomach dropped. "What? That's why you were—but that was three years ago. You were—what, thirteen back then? You were a kid."

"So? What, you don't think kids ever get punished for making mistakes?"

"Not like that," she said, barely over a whisper.

It made her feel a little sick just to think about it. One mistake—which wasn't even a mistake, as far as she was concerned—shouldn't be enough reason to rip anyone away from their family, much less a kid. It should have been impossible, but the pieces began to fall into place in her mind all the same. She imagined a younger version of Zuko arguing with General Bujing over the awful plan to sacrifice new recruits, possibly even standing on his tiptoes to keep from looking quite so small, then freezing midsentence when he noticed the Fire Lord in the doorway. She imagined the punishment being handed down, Zuko being bustled onto a ship along with his uncle, then suffering the horrific burn to his face, probably in a training accident of some sort. She imagined the ship speeding northward, finding Imiq, who healed the wound as well as she could, then turning back to the south so that they were miles and miles away before Zuko recovered enough to take command.

It made sense. She hated that it made sense. Katara was torn between wishing that she knew enough to fill in all the empty spaces and wishing that she could forget all of it. That she could pretend that she didn't see the flashes of the past in his eyes.

"Well—I was," Zuko said harshly. "Maybe the Fire Nation is different from the Water Tribe. But I know the Fire Nation, and you don't."

"I'm not saying that it didn't happen. I just think that it's—it's awful." She clenched her hands together and fixed her eyes on them. "You were right to argue with General Bujing. He was wrong to try to sacrifice people. Why were you punished for being right?"

He scoffed. "General Bujing won that battle. His plan worked. So who was really right?"

"Still you, Zuko."

For just a second, he stared at her, brows furrowed, but then he sighed and shook his head. "That—that really doesn't help us with the letter."

Resting her chin on one hand, Katara spun the coiled letter on the table with the other. "So you think."

There was another pause as he seemed to pull his attention back to the present. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she said, turning the letter the rest of the way around so that the names by the seal faced Zuko. "That based on what you told me, this General Bujing guy probably has most of the Fire Nation Navy terrified for their lives."

Eyebrow raised, he gave a single nod. "And?"

"And if they're afraid of him, they wouldn't dare to interfere with his letters."

"Probably not," Zuko answered after a pause.

"So—could you maybe mimic his handwriting? If we can make it look like General Bujing is writing to your uncle, then we can get away with being a lot more direct inside the letter."

He frowned, then picked up the letter and studied the script. "I'm not—I don't know. I'm not great at forgery, but he's not exactly a master calligrapher." He shot a quick look at Katara. "I mean—it might be worth a try."

She smiled as he picked up the brush and opened the little bottle of ink. "See? I knew there was a good reason for me to come along with you."

He rolled his eyes at her and bent over the fresh sheet of paper with the brush. After a considerable pause and a few smooth, precise brushstrokes, he finally spoke, though he didn't look up. "Thanks. For—coming along with me. If I was doing this alone, I'd just make things worse."

Absently, Katara reached out toward the hawk and stroked its glossy wing. "I think the same goes for all of us."

Zuko froze, and for a moment or two, she felt him watching her, searching the side of her face, before he finally turned back to the paper again. "You're never going to make sense, are you?"

She was tempted to answer—she wantedto say that she already made sense and that Zuko was the confusing one—but he'd spoken so quietly, so matter-of-factly that she didn't think she needed to say anything. She didn't think she should. Not right now.

Instead, she watched his brushstrokes as he copied General Bujing's even, boxy characters, half mesmerized by the precision of each movement. He was good at this. Really good. In a strange way, it almost reminded her of watching him fight as Masky—controlled and confident, even down to the smallest details.

This was different. Good different. It was—nice to see him like this, focused and at ease.

It was almost enough to make her want to keep things just like this for a while longer.

"How's this?" Zuko asked after a few minutes, pushing the paper closer to her.

Katara looked back and forth between the original letter and Zuko's copy. If she didn't know better—if she hadn't been watching Zuko as he copied General Bujing's signature—they would have been practically indistinguishable. "I wouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"Hopefully that'll be good enough." He gave a small, satisfied smile.

Though it wasn't the first time she'd seen a flash of it, his smile still took her off guard. Her face felt a little warm, and she smiled back at him. "Of course it's good enough. Between my idea and your fancy royal writing, we can't go wrong."


Author's Note:

Why do I love the idea of Katara gradually picking up bits and pieces of Zuko's past and coming up with a less-than-accurate concept of what actually happened so much? Because I love it. Especially because Katara has such a strong tendency to believe the best of everyone that she tends to put the details she knows into the least-awful picture that she can imagine, and every time she gets a little more information and has to realize that Zuko has been through A LOT worse than what she initially imagined, her protective side kicks into a slightly higher gear than before. And every time that Katara is even a little bit nice to Zuko, he becomes a little more protective over her, and... it's the best kind of vicious cycle I can imagine.

We're still on an every-two-weeks update schedule, and even though I was hoping to switch to weekly updates at some point soon, I think that I'm going to keep my update schedule the same for the forseeable future. I may have decided to write for the Zutara Big Bang again this year, so keeping things spaced out is my best shot at avoiding a hiatus. So I'll see you back here in two more weeks, and in the meantime, reviews are always appreciated!