So it turns out I'm a huge liar. I tried to stop writing, to focus on any of the numerous other things I should be doing right now, but I have obviously failed. My "break" from writing this story lasted all of two hours and I am ashamed to admit that I can't stop. I guess submerging myself in fantasy of my own creation (ahem, sort of) is my way of dealing with social isolation during pandemic times.

Thank you guys so much for the reviews! Seriously, I cannot express how excited I am when hear the ping sound my laptop makes that indicates I received an email (it's also really disappointing when it's just junk mail haha). Five weeks alone in a single bedroom apartment might be driving me just a little crazy - I'm an introvert and I never imagined I would miss any/all kinds of social interaction so much. There are still other people out there, right? ;P

That being said... please review! It makes my day and it makes me feel a little less like a reclusive couch monster.

This chapter was inspired by the song 'Between Two Lungs' by Florence + The Machine from their 2009 album 'Lungs'.

Disclaimer: I usually just pepper these randomly throughout my fanfics because I tend to forget them most of the time... I don't own Avatar or any of the songs I use for inspiration!

Here is chapter 8! I hope you like it!

Chapter 8: Between Two Lungs

…

Between two lungs it was released

The breath that passed from you to me

That flew between us as we slept

That slipped from your mouth into mine

It crept between two lungs

It was released

…

I have this breath

And I hold it tight

And I keep it in my chest

With all my might

…

The chirping of crickets filled the night, a distant hum that cleared some of the haze from her mind. He was so warm against her and she cursed her body for the betrayal; she was enjoying the heat, basking in his warmth like the clouds had finally parted and sun shone down on her skin once more after days of rain. When he pulled away, Katara shuddered at the sudden cold, his voice echoing in her ears. His eyes were still on her, unwavering, shining in the darkness. He was sitting above her now.

"What?" She breathed, barely audible.

"Come with me," Zuko repeated, sitting back on his heels. He held out a hand to help her up.

She eyed his hand suspiciously, "Where are we going?" What was going on? Where was the firebender going to take her? He seemed oddly calm, considering she had just held a dagger to his throat. Katara could have killed him – well, she couldn't – but how would he have known that?

"You'll see," Was all he said.

Hesitantly, she took his hand and he unceremoniously yanked her up to her feet. Still grasping her hand tightly in his, he turned and led her out of the tent into the night. He was pulling her along behind him, into the forest. A little voice in the back of her head was whispering something about caution and fear, but she ignored it, huffing as she quickened her pace to keep up with him. They trudged in silence through the woods, back towards the stream where they had been before. He looked down at their hands and glanced back at her. Belatedly, she realized in horror that, deep in thought, she had been tracing the metacarpals in his hand with her thumb. Suddenly flustered, she wriggled her hand free from his grasp with a scowl.

Their arrival at the stream was preceded by the gentle murmur of water trickling downhill. The sound pleased her, a calming burble that eased her anxieties and slowed her pulse. They followed the channel upstream until they reached a small meadow, a clearing in the forest. He stopped and turned to her, taking a deep breath.

"There's no honor in killing someone while they sleep," He chided.

She was caught off guard – he had brought her all the way out here to tell her off? She just blinked stupidly in response.

"If you want to try now, you can."

Katara's jaw slackened, not understanding. None of this made any sense. He had brought her out in the woods, to a stream where she could bend, so she could attack him? Was this a trick? Zuko was watching her, a hint of amusement in his expression that grew with each passing moment that she stared, not moving. He was smirking, now, and she was suddenly annoyed. He had tried to say she didn't have any honor – him.

"You really want me to try?" She raised an eyebrow.

Zuko nodded in response, the smirk still plastered on his face.

"Fine," Katara gave him a mischievous grin, dropping into a bending stance and lifting her arms. "But I won't go easy on you." She pulled water from the burbling stream and flung it at him. It felt good to bend again.

Zuko punched towards her, flames exiting his fist to turn the water into steam before it reached him. She pulled more water up from the channel, shaping it to a point and freezing it into an icicle. Before she could throw it at him, he was melting it with a fiery kick. Katara glowered at him as he continued to deflect, avoid, and thwart all her attacks. The ground below their feet was getting muddy as the stream water from her failed assaults soaked into the soil.

He wasn't attacking at all, she realized. Zuko had been on the defense the entire time, repeatedly blocking and dodging her strikes with ease. His arrogance irked her – why was he doing this? Was he trying to prove a point – that she couldn't touch him if she tried?

She pulled up the muddy water from the puddle at his feet and froze it around his ankles, running towards him with stream of water trailing behind her. As she whipped the water around her body, using her momentum to propel it forwards, he broke free from the ice around his feet and avoided the water, not breaking eye contact with her.

"Okay, what gives?" She yelled.

"What?" He was staring blankly back at her.

"What is this?"

"You tried to kill me." His tone was entirely devoid of emotion.

"I did, because you're trying to capture my friend and destroy the world!"

"Destroy the world," He repeated, amused again.

"Yes!"

"So that's why you held my dagger to my throat?"

She paused, wanting to say yes, but she knew that wasn't entirely true, "That's part of the reason."

"But you couldn't do it," He smirked.

Katara flung more water at him. He dodged it, sidestepping out of the growing puddle at his feet. Katara coaxed the muddy water to follow him and cling to his leg, grasping at his ankle. He shot fire down at it, baking the mud into a collapsing pile as the water evaporated out.

"Why?" Zuko asked.

She was breathing heavily now from both irritation and exertion, "Why what?"

"Why couldn't you do it?"

"I- I don't know. I wish I could have," Katara grumbled. "Why didn't you try to stop me?"

Zuko shrugged, "I wanted to see if you'd actually try. I never thought you would. You're too weak."

She growled at him and threw more water. This continued on for a while: her throwing attacks at him from all directions – water, ice, mud – and him blocking or avoiding them. Katara's anger faded to frustration then to defeat as the ache in her limbs set in. She was exhausted and she had hardly touched him. Had he truly been going easy on her this whole time? Since the very beginning? It was starting to get light now, the horizon was brightening, giving indication of the impending dawn.

"Fine," She mumbled, straightening, "I give up for now."

"You need a master and more practice." He replied, nonchalant.

"I know," Katara huffed in annoyance, " I want to find someone to teach me! Before you kidnapped me, I was heading north with Aang to find a master at the North Pole. I've never even met another waterbender." She was indignant. As if she didn't know that she needed someone to teach her; as if he would know anything about having to teach oneself to bend. He had probably grown up with the best private instructors in the Fire Nation – decorated military generals teaching him the basics of firebending. She had grown up with only the lingering memory of waterbenders. The last waterbender was taken from her village long before before she had realized her talent.

"I was going to find another waterbender to teach me, alongside the Avatar, "She continued, venom in her tone, "But now I'm heading south and who knows if I'll ever see Aang again."

"You will," Zuko promised, "When he comes to collect you and I capture him."

"I hope he never comes," She grumbled under her breath, crossing her arms.

"So you can stay with me forever?" Zuko smirked, mocking her.

Katara nearly choked at the hilarity, "I'd definitely find a way to kill you by then."

She was surprised when something that sounded like a suppressed laugh escaped his throat.

At length, she shifted her gaze, "I'm hungry," She sighed, "I'll find a way to kill you later. I'm heading back."

Katara turned back the way they came and he followed her in silence.

…

Zuko watched her back as she weaved through the underbrush, wondering what her other reasons were for wanting to kill him. Obviously, she wanted to protect her friend, but was she still angry at him for tying her up? Or was it something else?

They followed the stream back towards the campsite, neither saying a word. The sun was rising above the horizon, peeking through the trees. His Uncle would be awake when they got back, he thought, probably making tea. They would have to pack up the campsite and get moving soon; the bandit attack yesterday had thrown off his schedule and now they would have to make up time. The thought of the bandits still angered him, probably more than it should have, but dwelling on the past had never done him much good. It often just served to remind him of his many failures, of his disgrace. The past stung his pride and he tried to push the thought from his mind.

As he had expected, when they returned to the campsite, Uncle Iroh was awake and had gotten a fire going. A pot of boiling water bubbled lazily over the flames and Iroh reached to stir the contents of another pot next to it. The smell of food filled Zuko's nose and his stomach groaned in response. He realized, then, that he hadn't eaten last night and, in combination with the lack of sleep, his body was feeling weak. He had ignored the dull ache in abdomen when the waterbender had been attacking him; he couldn't show her any signs of weakness. She had to believe he was in control and there was no way out but for her to comply. If she thought she could beat him, she would certainly try to escape at some point and he couldn't allow that.

When they approached the campsite, Iroh's gaze met his then flicked to the waterbender, a surprised expression on his face. "I was wondering where you two had gotten to," the old General declared. "Hungry? I'm also making tea."

Zuko sighed, slumping down to a seated position next to the fire. Katara stood for a moment, apparently unsure of what to do, but eventually took the spot on the other side of the fire, as far away from him as she could be.

Iroh handed each of them a bowl and a cup of tea. Katara thanked him quietly before digging into the food. She must have been hungry too – she didn't look up from her bowl once.

"We need to get going soon, Uncle," Zuko announced, "We weren't supposed to stop for this long."

"Don't worry, Prince Zuko," the old man responded, "We still have plenty of time. I heard about the bandits…"

Zuko's gaze shifted to the waterbender, whose face darkened but otherwise showed no indication she was listening.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help," he continued.

Zuko dismissed the apology with a wave, "It was taken care of. The soldiers?"

"Aiguo caught a blade in the shoulder and lost some blood, but the wound is being taken care of," Iroh informed him, "Speaking of which, I should go check on them and tell them we're preparing to leave."

Zuko rolled his eyes; his soldiers had been entirely useless when the bandits attacked. They would probably make better time if they just left the injured man behind with another soldier and continued on. He watched as the retired General grabbed the pot of tea and some cups and walked off into the woods.

…

Katara inhaled the steam coming off her tea, reveling in the sweet, floral scent of jasmine. Prince Zuko was an ass, but his uncle wasn't so bad. The man had said few words, past a simple introduction, since their meeting but he seemed pleasant enough. She wondered whether his reluctance to speak with her had anything to do with his discourteous nephew.

Their breakfast was simple – rice with cabbage and egg – but she was so hungry, she practically inhaled it. Her fruitless morning fight against Zuko had tired her out and her stomach had been paining her since they had first arrived in the meadow.

She tried to ignore what the two men were talking about while she ate her food; mention of the bandits had caught her attention, but she pretended not to hear. Truthfully, the anger and pain she had felt from the previous day had now transformed into a dull shame. She hadn't even been able to defend herself. Sure, her bound wrists didn't make things any easier, but she had been completely caught off guard and she froze in fear. She'd hardly put up a fight. And then, when Zuko had given her all the water she could need and told her to attack him, she couldn't even land a single strike. Was she even worthy of a master?

She looked up to find it was just her and Zuko sitting across the fire from each other; the old man had disappeared while she was nursing the growing sense of chagrin in her chest. Zuko was still eating and paid her no mind. She considered getting up to dismantle the tents, but decided against it – why should she help her captor with kidnapping her? Scowling, she watched the fire and thought about her friends. What were they doing right now? Were they still in Omashu? Were they trying to find her? How was she going to prevent Aang from getting captured?

"How can you be so sure that Aang will fall for your trap?" The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop herself. "He is just a kid, but he's not an idiot. He knows you're doing this to lure him out and capture him."

Zuko looked up at her, surprised she had interrupted the quiet. "I'm going to have to make it look like he got lucky. He'll find you alone and he'll lower his guard."

"And what if I tell him to leave me? What if I tell him that it's a trap and that he doesn't have to worry, that I'll be fine?"

"Then I'll have to hurt you to convince him," A look of mischief passed through his gaze. He returned to his food. "I don't think your friends would leave without you, and the Avatar certainly won't- I've seen the way he looks at you."

She ignored his comment about Aang and responded blunty, "I don't think you'd hurt me. Not really."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because you didn't - you haven't. You've had plenty of chances... I know you weren't attacking before, I'm not stupid. And all those other times, when you told me to block and move my feet… you were going easy on me. I tried to kill you this morning… If you wanted to hurt me, you already would have." She crossed her arms and gave him a smug glance.

Silence resumed. He stared down at the fire.

"Why?" She asked.

"Why what?" He scowled back, finally meeting her gaze.

"Why do you fight me like that… like you're trying to teach me something?"

Golden eyes stared back at her blankly, the fire between them flickering in the reflection. There wasn't hate or animosity in those eyes, but something else, something that strangely reminded her of her childhood - cold nights that she sat awake, snores echoing in the tent around her as she stared at a cup of water, willing it to her hands. He stayed quiet but maintained her gaze.

"Why?" She asked again, her voice barely a whisper, "What's the point?"

"I don't..." he cut her off, shifting his gaze to the flames, frowning. At length, he muttered, "That first time… when the water hit me and I saw you running- when I realized you were the last waterbender..." His voice was strangled, like what he was saying was something he didn't really want to share, "the determination in your eyes reminded me of myself when I was younger." His softened tone, his admission, shocked her.

"What- you?" She stumbled over her words, not understanding. How could she remind the Prince of the Fire Nation of himself? As much as she didn't want to admit it, he was a powerful bender; so much so that it frightened her, especially after this morning when she realized that if he actually tried, she couldn't touch him. What was he saying?

"I trained every day for hours, until I couldn't lift my arms. I got to where I am by sheer force of will. I had no raw talent, I wasn't naturally gifted like the rest of the royal family. I failed more than I succeeded, but I didn't stop."

Katara almost snorted in amusement at the thought of a young Zuko not being able to firebend, but she stifled it.

"And so, you want to… train me?"

"Look, I don't know how to explain it, ok?" He grumbled back at her and they sat in silence for a while.

"I never would have thought that you aren't a natural." She finally said.

He looked back at her, the slightest ghost of a smirk returning to his face.

"Not that you're all that great or anything," She corrected herself, not meaning to compliment him. "I'm still going to beat you."

Something that resembled a chuckle reverberated in his chest, as if nothing else needed to be said. And nothing was. After another drawn out silence, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire between them, Zuko's uncle emerged from the woods.

…

They were back on the road in the hot sun, making slow progress thanks to the soldier that his uncle called Aigou. His uncle had always gone out of his way to make everyone in Zuko's crew feel welcome. The retired General learned everyone's names, ate with them on occasion, hosted music nights and game nights to "boost morale" – Zuko suspected it was less about morale and more about Iroh wanting someone to drink and play pai sho with, but it seemed to work. The soldiers respected and appreciated Iroh; they feared Zuko.

He had always told himself it was better to be feared than loved – and it was. There was no power in love. Fear motivated people, commanded their loyalty, and molded them into pliable tools for his use. The disadvantage of instilling fear was that it was a lonely existence. Zuko never joined in on any of the game or music nights; the single time Iroh had forced him into it, half the participants suddenly remembered they had something else to do and left. It didn't really bother him much – playing board games and the tsungi horn would neither help him capture the Avatar nor improve his firebending or swordsmanship. Activities like that were just distractions.

Though, every once in a while during moments of weakness, he did find himself wishing he had someone. He had his uncle, of course, but Iroh was family. The old man felt some kind of responsibility towards him as an uncle and, Zuko surmised, also to his own son; as if aiding him in his hunt for the Avatar would be sufficient to fill the void in Iroh's life of a lost child. He cared deeply for his uncle – maybe even loved him, if that's what it was – but sometimes he wished he had someone who wanted him, who chose him given other options. Someone, anyone, who liked him for who he was. His gaze drifted over to the waterbender in the saddle of the rhino next to his. He abruptly shook his head, chastising himself for even considering such a ridiculous notion. She didn't like him at all; she hated him for who he was. Just this morning she had contemplated murdering him in his sleep.

And yet, something about her intrigued him, drawng him to her. It stirred deep down in his chest – a sentiment that had been looming in the shadows of his heart for years. He squashed it decisively. Whatever he felt about the waterbender didn't matter. His honor mattered and she was no more than a means to an end.

Zuko scowled and spurred on his rhino; the girl in his periphery was distracting him, annoying him, and he had to put some distance between them.

"Hey, are you… um," She started to say.

He glanced over his shoulder to snarl, "Leave me alone, waterbender." Then he was riding to the front of the procession, intent on getting away from her and her feigned concern.

"I have a name, you know!" She called after him angrily.

…

Katara emulated the expression on Zuko's face without even realizing it – she worried for a moment that he was rubbing off on her. She didn't know why she bothered to try ask him if he was okay, she didn't care. It was entirely reflexive. In her peripheral vision she had noticed him looking at her, then he glowered and ran off. Something akin to annoyance rose in her and his sharp response only heightened it. He used the term 'waterbender' like it was a pejorative, a derogatory term. It wasn't; she was proud to be a waterbender. That, though, bothered her less than his unwillingness to call her by her name, like she was something lesser than he, not deserving of a name.

Iroh rode up beside her, clicking his tongue and shaking his head, "You will have to excuse my nephew," He sighed, "he has always struggled to control his temper."

"Why is he like that?" Katara asked, the frustration in her voice was palpable.

The old man wiped the perspiration from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, "Prince Zuko has had… a difficult life."

"How difficult of a life can a prince of the Fire Nation possibly have?" She asked, scornful.

"Oh, I don't presume to suggest that life in the royal palace is comparable to life in the war-zone," He stammered, as if worried he may have offended her, "It's just that... Prince Zuko has never had a good relationship with his father."

"The Fire Lord?"

The old man nodded, wiping his neck.

Katara remembered what Zuko had said – yelled, really – when she had him frozen to a tree the other night: I'm banished… I have nothing.

"I guess he did mention that he had been banished," She pondered.

Iroh seemed surprised by this, "Did he tell you why?"

"No," She turned to watch the prince at the head of the cavalcade, obviously still fuming as the muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed, "Why? What happened?"

The old man just shook his head and replied, "I shall leave that for Zuko to tell. It is his story, after all."

Suddenly, feeling like a child anxiously awaiting story time, Katara's imagination went wild. She hadn't really considered it before: what could he have possibly done for the Fire Lord himself – by all accounts, a tyrannical monster – to banish his own son? Images of a young Zuko drifted through her mind; standing in front of the smoldering remains of a palace, setting dignitaries aflame. It was going to be one of those things that would bother her immensely if she didn't find out, she knew. She would wonder about it endlessly, going through all possible scenarios in her mind. If Iroh wouldn't tell her, she'd have to get it out of Zuko himself, which, quite frankly, seemed unlikely at best.

Katara sighed, resolving to try ask him later on – perhaps when he had cooled down again.

…

Zuko could feel her eyes on him; she had been staring at his back for what seemed like hours. They hadn't spoken again during the ride but he had noticed her conversing casually with Iroh, though, he couldn't make out the words. When they finally stopped for the night, he noticed her sidelong glances as he put up the tent. Over dinner, he caught her gaze across the fire pit. Her eyes darted away, but he saw – the look in those sapphire eyes was not one of contempt but of regard, like she was trying to read his mind or gauge the fiber of his character.

Throughout the rest of the evening, she stared, avoiding eye contact whenever he turned to look at her. It annoyed him. They said nothing. It wasn't until she got up from the fire pit and went into the tent that he could relax. He waited until he thought she must be asleep to enter the tent. It was dark inside and his eyes hadn't quite adjusted from looking into the fire, but he could make out her figure in the corner. He removed his shirt and dagger, placing them closer to his side and away from her this time, lest she suddenly find the intent to actually kill him.

He lay down and closed his eyes, trying not to wonder what she was thinking when she stared at him like that.

…

She listened to him enter the tent; the rustling of his clothes and the dull clink of his dagger on the hard ground. Eventually his breathing steadied. Curiosity nagging at her, she turned to him. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed.

"You said yesterday that you were banished…" Her voice escaped her lips in a whisper.

His eyes shot open, gaze fixed on the ceiling of the canvas tent. He pulled in a ragged breath.

"Why?"

"Why was I banished?" He clarified. His tone was thick with emotion, which startled her.

She nodded. In the dark, she could make out his face twisting into a frown as his brows knit together.

"I don't like to talk about it." He responded bluntly.

Katara had anticipated as much, but she was persistent, "Well, whatever terrible thing you did… it's not like my opinion of you could get much worse."

He glared at her from across the tent.

"I'm just saying," She shrugged, "Your secret is safe with me." Inwardly, she cursed herself for making such a promise so casually.

"It's hardly a secret," Zuko grumbled in response, "Pretty much everyone in the Fire Nation knows."

She waited, expecting him to continue. When he didn't, she prodded, "So…"

Zuko sighed in annoyance, "I refused to take part in a duel that I had accepted."

"That's it?" She knew there must be more to the story, "Why did you accept in the first place?"

"I had to... for my honor," He paused, "I stepped out of line in war meeting and questioned a General."

"You had to fight a duel for asking a question?" None of this made sense to Katara. Iroh had made it seem like a much bigger deal.

"I didn't ask a question," He hissed, "I spoke out against one of the Fire Nation Generals about his plan to use new recruits as a diversion."

"That doesn't sound like something terrible," she thought out loud.

"It wasn't," Zuko growled defensively, "I was trying to protect my people. His plan was cruel and it punished young, untrained soldiers for no good reason."

"So you had to accept a duel against him," She surmised.

"I thought so. But I was wrong," He exhaled, "The duel wasn't against the General... it was against my father."

Katara sat up so suddenly, she got dizzy, "What? Against your father – the Fire Lord? How old were you?"

"Thirteen."

"Why would your father expect you to duel him at thirteen?"

"Because I disrespected him."

"By trying to protect your people?" She breathed, "That doesn't make any sense. Did you know you were supposed to duel your father?"

"No. Not until the duel was about to begin... when I turned around to face my opponent it was my father that stood across from me…" Zuko's voice was strangled, "I couldn't fight him."

"And he banished you for refusing to fight him?"

"He said I was a coward for refusing to fight- That I didn't have any honor. The duel, an Agni Kai… can only end when one person… burns the other…" His tone wavered, like he was trying to wrangle his emotions.

The implication of his words brought tears to her eyes. A sudden ache in her chest made it hard to breathe. Unbidden, thoughts of that day in the South Pole – of her mother – swirled in her mind; The charred skin filled her vision.

When her voice came again, it was somewhere between a choke and a whisper, "Your scar…"

Zuko abruptly turned away from her.

His attempts at wrangling his emotions seemed to be more successful than hers; she was utterly failing. Unsolicited tears streaked her cheeks as her vision blurred. She was in the South Pole again, opening the tent flap, feeling the heat of the flames, smelling the burnt flesh. A poorly stifled sob translated into a series of pitiful whimpers.

"Why are you crying?" Came his voice through the blurry darkness, tone softer than she had heard before.

"I- It just… That's so awful," Her voice broke from a whisper, "I can't help but think… It just- for some reason… it reminded me of my mom."

"Your mom?"

She nodded, sobbing this time, "Sh-she was killed… in a Fire Nation raid. She was b-burned… in front of my eyes."

Zuko was sitting up now, his eyes wide.

"I just can't-… your own father?" She stammered through tears and sobs that racked her to her core.

"Katara…" The sound of her name, soft in his raspy voice, quieted her as her breath caught in her chest.

A lump formed in between her lungs. Before she could think, she was moving; he was too. They met in the middle as she collapsed into his arms. He cradled her head in one large hand while she nuzzled into him instinctively, sniffling with an occasional sob. His hand grasped the back of her shirt in his fist, while she pulled him close, squeezing herself into him.

After a moment, it was hard to tell who was comforting who; his face was in her hair, then on her shoulder, his breath ragged and uneven. Hers was pressed under his neck, then leaning against the top of his head, inhaling the sweet smoky scent in his hair. His skin was burning hot, flaring every time he stifled what sounded like a sob. Muscles tensed and relaxed, a back and forth like the ebb and flow of the tides. She alternated between rubbing patterns on his back and grasping his shoulders. He was stroking her hair, wrapping his arm around her, his palm pressing into her lower back to keep her steady.

They stayed that way for an indefinite amount of time, like in their embrace they had found a little nook where time no longer existed and they crawled into it, content to just remain. Katara couldn't remember lying down. She couldn't remember when she stopped crying or when Zuko's breathing returned to normal. It was as if everything had slowly faded into a quiet stillness – a warm, comfortable nothingness that enveloped them both. At some point, a deep slumber took hold as fleeting breaths passed between them, drifting from consciousness in a tangle of limbs.

Awh, cuddletime :')

The beginning of this chapter was hard to write. I'm still working on writing action scenes so they aren't too repetitive (she did this, he did that, etc.)

Please please please let me know what you think! (Send a lonely couch gremlin some love?)

Hope everyone out there is staying healthy and isn't developing agoraphobia!

...

With love,

A Storm