Hey there! So, you guys absolutely melted my heart with all of your reviews on the last chapter and it prompted me to get this one done!

First, some shout-outs to some of my favorite peoples:

Waterpologirl42: You are so sweet! Quarantine has been super hard and writing this has been helping me get through. I'm glad my Zutara ramblings have been able to bring you some comfort! And, worry not, I promise you... there will be fluff!

amethystfirechik: I also kind of wish that the rest of the Gaang doesn't show up and we could just bask in Zutara moments forever, but the story must go on! I have many plans for this fic and I hope you keep reading to find out!

FictionallyFun: I just want to thank you for all of your reviews thus far, I have noticed and they bring tears to my eyes. The fighting scenes really are so difficult to write and I'm not sticking to any particular martial arts style so I don't have to do too much research haha. If anything, I'm using what knowledge I gleaned from Tae Kwon Do as a kid. Thank you so much for the advice! And let me know when you post something on here! I'd love to return the favor (:

libbylu: Grandad says thank you! And I do too - thanks for all the reviews!

Lileis, you have read my mind and it is very much appreciated! (:

To everyone who has reviewed thus far, I am so grateful! The feedback has been extremely helpful!

This chapter was inspired by the song 'Hiding' by Florence + The Machine from their 2015 'How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful'

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 10: Hiding

…

I think you hide

And you don't have to tell me why

You cry a little, so do I

…

Tell me I will be released

Not sure I can deal with this

…

I know that you're hiding

I know there's a part of you that I just cannot reach

You don't have to let me in

Just know that I'm still here

…

Zuko's chest was heaving violently, his breathing rough and furious. The greenery around him was aflame; he stood on a yellow patch of grass surrounded by black, smoking plant matter. The trees in front of him creaked and groaned as the char reached up their trunks. A strange sensation of something wet on his face made him pause and he realized, belatedly, that it was tears.

He had burned her; the image of her curled up in pain, cradling her hands, was vivid in his mind. It felt like the entire world was ablaze before his eyes and he could do nothing to stop the flames from consuming everything; just watch the destruction with tears running down his cheeks. His Uncle had been right – he still lacked control. When he lost his balance, he should have stopped, he should have controlled the flames, bringing them back in. Instead, he had forced the motion, overcompensating for his lacking balance, and relinquished control of his fire. He cursed himself again, and again.

Turning towards the creek where she knelt, her head bent to the ground as the water ran over her hands, Zuko forgot about pride and decorum – he was going to go to her and comfort her, whether she would accept it or not. It was all he could do. Whatever it was between them, he couldn't deny that he cared for her now and the thought that he had caused her such pain wrenched at his heart. Wrangling the rage and shame that were still bubbling in his chest with a couple deep breaths, he walked back towards her. If she heard him coming, she gave no indication.

"Katara, I'm-" He started as he approached, but then his gaze caught something as he stood over her kneeling form; her hands were still in the water, glowing with a soft blue light. "Katara…"

…

She tried to ignore his presence, hoping he would just leave. The pain had receded, but the shame was overwhelming; she honestly didn't know how she was going to live this down – how she was going to explain to everyone from now on why her hands were so badly burnt. She could paint him as a monster, but it would be a lie. Maybe she could just start wearing gloves, she thought, trying to reason through the dejection.

"Katara…" His voice was soft, uncertain.

"What?" She grumbled through her tears, scowling face still pressed to the ground. Katara wanted to yell at him, hit him, cry into his shirt, run away – the conflict was debilitating. So, she refused to move.

"Your hands…"

"Yes, I know," She seethed, "It's going to be a nasty scar."

"No… it's not," Zuko replied in a suddenly steady tone. This angered her – was he in denial? Was he trying to shirk responsibility for what he'd done? How stupid did he think she was? Her head snapped up to send him a scornful glare.

"How can you-" She stopped; he was staring, awestruck, at her hands. Katara followed his gaze and drew in a sharp breath. He was right, her palms were unmarred.

"Your hands… they were just… glowing." He paused, "You never told me… that you were a healer."

"What?" She pulled her hands from the water, examining them for any signs of the fire that she had just caught; there wasn't a mark on either of them. "A healer?"

"I heard stories on my travels… that some waterbenders can use their craft to… heal injuries. I never believed it though."

Her gaze slid up her arms as she thought of that morning when she had thrown herself into the water. How had she not realized? The red scratches that had covered her arms were gone.

"I… didn't know," Her voice was quiet, distant.

Zuko shook his head, scowling, "It doesn't matter, I still… I burned you. I lost my balance and I… I'm so stupid!" Fire erupted from his fists and she thought he was going to start setting trees on fire again.

It was an accident, she realized, watching him beat himself up; he hadn't meant to hurt her. Something like relief washed over her. Sighing, she turned her face back towards the ground.

"I got too confident," She mumbled, struggling against her pride, "It's not entirely your fault. I asked you to do the form at full-speed and I wasn't ready."

"No-" He started to growl, but she cut him off.

"Just, stop." Katara straightened, standing up to look at him. "It was an accident. We both got carried away. My hands are fine. Just… leave it, ok?"

She didn't want his pity. She didn't want to watch him beat himself up. She wanted to forget.

Zuko's eyebrow, the one on the unmarred side of his face, raised as the fire in his hands subsided then disappeared.

"Just… I'm sorry," He stammered, "It was an accident. Katara… I never meant to hurt you."

"I know," She breathed, surprised at the certainty of her words.

"It will never happen again."

No, she thought, it won't; she was done being weak and vulnerable. Her water skin had been returned and her hands were free. She was going to be better – stronger. Until she could get to the Northern Water Tribe and find herself a master, she vowed she was going to practice every day, every moment she could. Waterbending seemed to be the only thing that made sense lately, while everything she thought she knew was falling apart around her.

…

They didn't talk much for the rest of the evening. Zuko knew she hadn't quite forgiven him; her avoidance of him only solidified that notion. He wanted to apologize some more, he wanted to hold her hands, he wanted to look in her eyes and promise he would never do anything to hurt her again. Clearly, Katara didn't want to talk about it, so Zuko resigned to quietly seething in the corner.

He was the first to enter the tent that night, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not sleep. Guilt nagged at him. He had unintentionally burned people before, but he never felt good about it; it always brought back painful memories that left a sour taste in his mouth and an ache in his chest. But it had never been like this – he had never burned someone that he cared about, or even someone that was good. And he did care about her, he was beginning to realize.

Beyond the shallow attraction he felt towards Katara – she was beautiful, he couldn't help it – he had grown to appreciate the fiery determination in her eyes, cherish their witty banter, and treasure her empathy, her ability to make him feel human again. She was unlike anyone he had ever met – spirited, unwavering, and fierce, yet still compassionate and nurturing. Somehow, she had managed to sneak past the walls he had built around himself, walls that he had built to protect him, to hide his vulnerabilities.

When the tent flap suddenly opened, he shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep as she slipped into the shadows. He listened carefully, waiting for her to settle down. After a moment of silence, he hesitantly opened his eyes again to find her staring at him from the opposite side of the tent, her sapphire eyes glistening.

"You said you've heard stories about healers," She spoke in a quiet voice, "Tell me."

Zuko was quiet, shocked that she was talking to him again.

At length, he opened his mouth, "When I was travelling through the Northern Earth Kingdom, through the colonies, years ago… some of the sailors and traders in the port cities talked about it. I was in a tea shop with my Uncle, a couple months after… the duel," He chose his words carefully, "A sailor looked at my scar and said I should go to the Northern Water Tribe and have their healers take a look at it… I thought he was making a joke at my expense."

After a moment of silence, she whispered, tentatively, "Do you think… your scar can be healed?"

"I doubt it, it's been years now," His mouth was a hard line. He wished it were that easy to remove all the pain and dishonor; all the trauma that was so plainly displayed to the world on his face.

She continued watching him with a strange expression, "Would you… could I try? Would you let me?"

Zuko stared back at her, unsure of how to respond, the muscles in his jaw flexing with indecision. He had never let anyone get close to his scar; it was, perhaps, the pinnacle of his vulnerability. His scar represented everything he hated about himself, everything that was wrong with his life; his banishment, his dishonor, his shame, the disgust in his own father's eyes, his missing mother, the impossible task he had been given – all of the abuse and pain and suffering bundled into a mass of mottled flesh that disfigured his face, visible to all. But the lingering question nagged at him… could it be healed?

"I understand if you don't feel comfortable…" She was mumbling, "I shouldn't have-"

"Ok," Zuko interjected, his voice low and rough. He decided that he would never know if he didn't let her try, and if he was going to let anyone get that close to him, it would be her. "…You can try."

Katara looked up at him, biting her lip. She nodded before slowly, if not hesitantly, making her way across the tent. He sat up to face her, crossing his legs. He could feel the frown on his face, the tightening of his brow and the clenching of his jaw, anticipating the discomfort. Momentarily, he considered sitting on his hands, just in case, but decided against it – he wouldn't hurt her again, ever.

She was on her knees before him, eyeing his face. Uncorking her water skin, she whispered, "I don't know exactly… how it works. Just, um… bear with me."

Katara reached out, her hand coming dangerously close to his face, and he fought not to flinch, not to shrink away from her touch. Her fingers hovered over his scar for an imperceptible amount of time and she looked into his eyes, as if asking his permission once more. His nod was terse, trying to contain the boiling mixture of emotions that were stirring inside of him.

He drew in a sharp breath at the slightest sensation of her fingers brushing against his cheekbone. She pulled away instantly, concern knitting her eyebrows as if she had hurt him.

"It's fine," He muttered, his frown deepening as he attempted to regain his composure once more.

Her touch was gentle, so delicate that he could hardly feel it. Her fingers trailed down his scar as her eyes followed. When she started to apply pressure, though, he moved before he could think, a reflex that made him rue the decision not to sit on his hands. He grabbed her wrist and yanked it away. Katara gasped as she lost her balance and tumbled forward into him, crashing into his chest.

…

Katara tried to stop the heat flooding her cheeks as her face rested against his pectoral muscle. He was still grasping her wrist, breathing heavily into her hair. She knew this – letting her touch his scar – was a big deal for him, but she hadn't realized the extent of his anxiety over it. His reaction had been lightning fast and she immediately regretted having put him in this position.

"I- I'm sorry!" She whispered, "I shouldn't have-"

"No, I'm sorry," His voice a low growl, "No one… has ever touched my scar…" He released her wrist.

Surprised, she pulled back slowly, "No one?"

He shook his head, averting his gaze, "I haven't even touched it since it healed and stopped itching so much."

She realized, then, how much this meant to him – how much he trusted her to do this. The conflict and uncertainty that had been threatening her sanity since that night when she had sought comfort from him stirred again.

"Zuko… I'm sorry, I didn't…"

He shook his head again with another deep inhale, "It's not your fault. Stop apologizing."

"I just thought that maybe it would work and I wanted to see if I could actually do it," She was stammering, she knew, "And I should have known that you would be sensitive to me touching it and-"

"Katara." His stern voice quieted her, "Please, I… I'll sit on my hands this time."

She fought the urge to smile at the idea of him sitting on his hands, then she caught the look he was giving her. His eyes were a smoldering molten gold and the intensity of his stare forced her lip between her teeth. The muscles in his neck twitched, as if he were battling to maintain control. What was it about him that confused her so? Why did she dizzy under his gaze? She could admit that Zuko was attractive, even with the scar that marred his features – but was that all it was?

Whatever this was between them, it was dangerous – electric. The part of her that was inexplicably drawn to him was demanding acknowledgement and refused to be suppressed any longer. It was a part of herself that she was unfamiliar with, that she had little understanding of. Despite the warnings – the alarms going off in her head, screaming that this was a bad idea – she had to know more. Heat rushed to her face at the thought, but she was suddenly determined to try, to break through his barriers.

She sighed, "You don't have to sit on your hands." Katara reached out and grasped his hand in hers, dragging her eyes up to meet his gaze, "Are you sure you want me to try this?"

Zuko inhaled and closed his eyes, nodding.

Tentatively, she brought her hand up to the unscarred side of his face, cupping it in her palm. She felt the muscles in his jaw tensing under her touch.

"Do you trust me?"

His eyes shot open, but he didn't hesitate when he answered, "Yes."

Absentmindedly, her thumb brushed over his cheekbone before she released him.

"Just… tell me if you want me to stop, ok?"

Katara brought herself up to her knees and pulled a stream of water from the skin at her waist, while he watched her intently. She considered what it had felt like when she had unknowingly healed herself earlier; surely, it would be different healing another person. Focusing all her energy on her element, on his scar, on her task, she moved the water around, lacing it between her fingers. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she approached his face, the sound echoing in her ears. As if to hold him steady, her other hand found its way to his right shoulder.

The water on her hand made contact with his scar and, suddenly, she could hear another heartbeat, hammering even more rapidly than her own, drowning hers out. Zuko's hand flew up to cover hers on his shoulder, squeezing her fingers. Her eyes widened when her right hand took on a blue luminescence, and the water glowed. Zuko's eyes were on her, his brows knit together, but he no longer looked angry or tense; he looked vulnerable. Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were burning into her and even though her hand was illuminated, the only light she could see was the reflection in his golden irises; a fire that danced with the blue glow, enveloping it.

Hearing his heartbeat echoing in her head, she gently glided her hand over the scar, careful not to apply too much pressure. Belatedly, she realized that she was holding her breath as she released it with sudden disappointment, letting the water fall from her hand – it wasn't working.

"Damn it," She cursed under her breath, "Zuko, I'm sorry I got your hopes up-"

"Katara." He was breathing heavily, still holding onto her hand atop his shoulder, when he reached around her and pulled her onto him. She yelped when she stumbled into his lap. His skin was hot against hers, like his whole body was burning up. Her heart was drumming in her ears again as she felt him between her legs. For some reason, unbeknownst to her, tears filled her eyes.

He took her hand in his and guided it to his face, placing her palm flush against his scar. He held her there as she rubbed patterns into the mottled skin with her thumb. A groan escaped his throat as he pressed into her touch and the sound reduced her to a series of breathy gasps. Then she was taking his hand from around her waist and placing it on her cheek. His thumb strayed towards her mouth, stroking the width of her bottom lip.

Zuko pressed his forehead to hers and they stayed that way, neither daring to move or speak, afraid to break the trance. Only when he whispered in the space between them, did she return to reality.

"Thank you…"

She realized, then, that whatever this was between them, extended much deeper than the shallowness of mere infatuation. They were inextricably linked somehow and a foreboding feeling in her gut reminded her of the thing she had been desperately trying to ignore: He was still the enemy.

…

When they finally detached, they were both breathless and tired; the emotional comprehension and sudden release that Zuko felt with her palm pressed against his scar was enough to exhaust him. Sentiments that he wasn't sure he was ready to give name to were swelling in him and it took all his willpower to pull away from her before things went too far. She seemed simultaneously relieved and disappointed at their separation but graced him with a small smile as she turned to crawl back to her side of the tent.

Silence ensued as they caught their respective breaths, no longer sharing the same air. An electricity still surged between them and Zuko pondered how her bottom lip had felt under his thumb – and how it would feel between his teeth. He heard her breathing steady as she shifted her body, turning away from him.

"Goodnight, Zuko…" she whispered into the corner of the tent.

"Goodnight, Katara."

He lay awake for a while longer, staring into the darkness and wondering how he was going to reconcile whatever it was that he felt for her with his plan to hand her over in exchange for the Avatar. Eventually, his eyelids grew heavy and he floated off to sleep; dreaming things he would soon forget.

…

Waterbending truly was the only thing that made sense anymore; it was the only thing she knew. The arbitrary lines she had previously drawn that distinguished black from white had blurred into an expansive gray area, one that she found very difficult to navigate. But the way the water flowed with her movements, obeying her every will – the way it felt – was both familiar and enduring.

It was their seventh day in the saddle and she spent the entire time, as she had vowed to do, twirling the water around her, holding it in place, freezing and melting it. The first day had been hard, to say the least; after an hour or so of controlling the water, she was fatigued, nearly falling asleep atop the Komodo rhino under her. The second day was a little easier – Iroh had told her something about the importance of qi and eating breakfast as he prepared a filling morning meal – and her stamina had indeed improved.

Every chance she got, she was working on either her stamina, maintaining command over her element for extended periods, or her control, fine-tuning her movements and refining her connection to the water she wielded. When she was bored, she would make shapes from the ice; they started off as spheres, cubes and pyramids, but progressed into crude little ice figurines – people, trees, flowers. Occasionally, she would send a tendril of water out to whip at the backside of Zuko's unsuspecting rhino when she thought no one was looking. He always seemed to catch her, though, and watching him try to hide his smiles and suppress his laughter with scowls and grunts had become another favorite pastime of hers.

She could no longer deny that she cared about him; since she had touched his scar that one night, something had blossomed between them. They trained together every day, they sat down next to each other for meals, talking, laughing, and making jokes – as much as Zuko tried to maintain his rough exterior, she was getting a pretty good idea of what he was like on the inside. He was funny in the kind of way that wasn't funny at all – his jokes were terrible but so much so that it was humorous and kind of adorable. He still had his moments where he brooded and wanted to be left alone, and she had learned to know when he needed space. Zuko had started to learn when to be wary of pushing her buttons – she had a fiery temper that rivaled his at times.

Seeing this side of Zuko was like seeing the boy – the man – he may have been, and the thought tugged on her heart strings; they got along surprisingly well. In another world, one where the war had never happened, she wondered whether they would know each other. What would they be like without the trauma and loss that the hundred years of conflict had caused? Would they find each other?

Katara found herself forgetting that she was his prisoner, thinking of him more as a friend than her captor, and only rarely was she reminded of the reality. He really did seem like her friend, that is, until he backed her up against a tree during training, or when she woke up in the morning snuggling into him for warmth. They had reached a new equilibrium – one that she was quite content with – and she tried to suppress the dread she felt with regards to its inevitable end. She often wondered if he could be convinced, and what exactly it would take, to cease his hunt for Aang.

…

Zuko cursed as his rhino tried to buck him off for the second time that day. He turned to glare back at Katara, who was whistling and looking up into the canopy like she hadn't noticed. His scowl turned into a smirk as she caught his gaze and broke into a mischievous smile. After a couple days of this infuriating trick of hers, he had found a way to counter it; he would ride up alongside her rhino and, with a heated hand, give it's rump a sharp slap, sending it bounding ahead while she bounced in the saddle. He hadn't had fun like this since he was a child – long before his banishment.

They were finally entering the Shi-Fen Swamp and Zuko was trying to avoid thinking about the unavoidable decision he would have to make in the near future. Katara rode beside him, staring in amazement at the huge trees that obscured the sky in a dark green canopy.

"I've never seen so much green before," She breathed.

Zuko smirked, "That's not surprising, considering you come from a block of ice."

Katara splashed some water at him, laughing at her own expense, "There's more than just ice at the South Pole! We also have snow and water and sometimes there's… rocks." Her grin was infectious.

"Rocks," he repeated, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Well, what's the Fire Nation like? A... pit of fire?"

Zuko nearly chuckled, but suppressed it with a scoff, "More like a pit of vipers."

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" Katara teased, feigning surprise.

He scowled and looked away, trying to hide his embarrassment from her – Zuko had never been the funny one, at least not intentionally. She just giggled behind him, a sweet sound like raindrops on the roof after an extended drought that calmed his nerves.

"It's weird, though." Her voice quieting, "Something about this place feels so… alive."

Uncle Iroh rode up behind them, "Prince Zuko, perhaps we should think about finding somewhere to stop for the evening. It's hard to see the sky, but I believe we've been riding for close to 7 hours."

He nodded and began looking for a decently flat site where the land rose above the standing water. Katara pointed out a spot with a couple roots protruding from the ground and they decided that was probably the best they were likely to find. She was helping him set up the tent, when an eerie quiet filled the air.

"Zuko," She said through the silence, "Listen. The birds stopped chirping… and I can't hear any frogs."

He had noticed it too.

"I keep getting this feeling like we're being watched." Katara whispered.

A shout echoed through the air around them and they both turned. Aiguo, the soldier that had been injured during the bandit raid was grasping onto a tree root, trying to shake off a vine that was snaking around his calf. Then, snakelike vines erupted from the water and the trees around them.

"Katara, get behind me," He yelled, but her back was already pressed to his, water flowing from the skin at her waist.

Before long, he was sending out blasts of fire, burning the vines that darted towards them, as if they had a mind of their own. Katara was at his back, whipping water around her as she sliced through the green tendrils.

"What is this?" She breathed, heavily from behind him.

"I don't know," He growled back, "Just stay close to me."

His Uncle Iroh was standing over Aiguo, along with some of the other soldiers, sending flames up to meet the approaching vines. Zuko shifted his gaze back a moment too late as one of the vines swerved by his fire and snaked around them, pulling Katara flush against his back. He felt her move to cut through the vine with her water, but it was too late; They were being dragged away from the others through the swampy water.

So this chapter felt a little clunky to me and it was kind of hard to write; though, that might be because I had to take multiple writing breaks to look over a bunch of sea level rise models and that may have thrown me off my flow a bit... What do you think? Clunky? How can it be improved?

I might go back later and edit a few details (I have a tendency to re-read chapters I have previously posted and add/subtract things here and there)...

Also, what did you guys think about the scene where she finally touches his scar? Was it too much?

What about the time skip? Was it awkward? I realized that I need to keep things moving otherwise this story will turn into something that's like 100+ chapters, and I'm far too excited about what I have planned for the next few chapters to put it off any longer (:

Please let me know what you think! Review?

...

With love,

A Storm