Disclaimer: I do not own ATLA or LoK.
CW: allusion to death + abuse
CHAPTER 9
Sleep evaded her. After hours of staring at the ceiling, Katara finally threw the blankets off herself and went to the window. She knew by the subtle pull in her blood that the moon was nearly full, but the scene outside could have fooled anyone else. It seemed that the glow of the city drowned out any discernible natural light.
As was typical—though she would never quite get used to it—the city was alive despite the late hour. Countless windows were lit, and behind many of them, Katara could see the bustle of movement. The blaring sounds of the rolling death machines cut through the air like glass. In the distance, a strange purple glow lit the roof of one particularly tall building. A packed bar buzzed with chatter across the street below, its crowd of patrons spilling out onto the walkway. The smell of smoke permeated Katara's senses, despite the protection of the dusty window. There was no lull in excitements to behold as her eyes scanned the endless scene. But amongst the constant activity, there was a certain, unexplainable peace that blanketed this place at night. She frowned, turning away from the window. How she wished that peace would claim her.
She spared a glance at Zuko, who had spent the better part of the night tossing and turning in a fitful sleep. At the moment, he was an undefined lump under a thrashing blanket, the only visible part of him one pale arm in a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the futon. Evidently, Katara was not alone in her restlessness. Tearing her gaze from the firebender, she moved to sit at the table, making sure to position herself so that her back faced him.
As if just not looking at him would make any difference.
Her attempts to quell her thoughts of Zuko's family and the implications of what little he had divulged of it were proving futile. The only concrete conclusion that she could draw was that Zuko's past was more…complicated than he let on. To dive deeper than that—well, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Immense relief had washed over her when he neglected to answer her final question of the evening, one that had slipped out of her before she could stop herself. Though she wasn't entirely sure that he heard her ask it. Even if he did, Katara doubted he would ever tell her.
What did it matter, anyway?The Fire Nation Royal Family history would not bring her any closer to escape.
Time for a distraction. She pulled out her phone, resting it on the table in front of her and using her index fingers to press the Google square. Her lips pulled up slightly at the corners. It truly had become her best friend.
'temples da ping guo'
The image changed, and in front of her now was a detailed map with numerous red dots marking what Katara assumed were temples. She sighed as she counted at least twenty of them in their general proximity. It was going to take forever to get to all of them. In fact, it wasn't even possible to get to all of them.
Maybe I can narrow them down. Her gaze found Zuko's black bag—the one she had rummaged through what felt like weeks ago but actually only four days ago—discarded on the floor near the table. She dug out the bound parchment and one of several writing utensils that littered the bottom of the bag. Flipping to a new page, Katara wrote out the characters for 'Promising Temples' in her elegant script at the top and silently thanked whoever from this reality decided to do away with inkwells.
Turning her attention back to the phone, she began pressing on the red dots at random. But after several minutes of doing so, her list of promising temples remained blank. She suppressed an exasperated sigh. There was nothing about any of them that stuck out. Of course, she didn't even know what to look for.
Perhaps it would be better to ask Iroh for a list.
And of course, her thoughts of Iroh inevitably led her mind back to what she wanted so desperately not to think about.
As if on cue, Zuko began mumbling in his sleep, the sound too muffled to decipher. Katara reluctantly swiveled around, only to find that he was no longer covered by the blanket. It was now a crumpled mound on the floor.
Thanks to the artificial light outside, the small apartment was never completely dark. She could see clearly that Zuko lay facedown, pressed into a cushion. He had unceremoniously thrown his pants over the futon's side, leaving him in a pair of undershorts. He hadn't changed out of his white tunic from earlier, which was now damp with sweat and clinging to the taut muscles of his back. One hand was fisted into his mess of dark hair, the other stretched in front of him as if to reach something unseen. Katara frowned at the odd angle of his body as he clutched hopelessly at empty air. Her gaze fell to his bare legs dangling awkwardly off the futon's end, and she felt a small pang of guilt upon realizing it was far too small for his towering form.
The cushion still swallowed his groans, but Katara could just make out that he was repeating the same sound over and over again. Inexplicably, she found herself standing to move closer to him. She crouched down next to the futon, near enough to see his shoulders' shaky rise and fall. Then, hesitantly, "Zuko?"
The firebender abruptly turned his body to face her, and Katara stiffened. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, his lips contorted into a deep grimace. A sheen of sweat glistened on his skin in the dim light. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding when it became evident he was still very much asleep.
For a moment, Katara could only stare at his flawless face. It hadn't occurred to her just how immediately her eyes tended to flit to the scar when she looked at him until it was no longer there to pull her focus. The man in front of her was…well, he was still Zuko. But she couldn't shake the feeling that his features seemed incomplete without his mark.
The mark of the banished prince…
She closed her eyes at the memory. Whenever I would imagine the face of the enemy, it was your face.
Katara felt her fist close tightly in an involuntary gesture to soothe the prickling in her fingers. She recalled the feeling of the prince's marred skin, the sight of his eyes falling shut as he unconsciously leaned into her touch. What if Aang and Iroh had shown up just a few moments later? What if she had gone through with an attempt to heal him? Would he have made the same choice?
"Please," croaked Zuko, shaking her from her thoughts. "Please…"
Without warning, he reached out, snatching her wrist. Katara's eyes widened. The hand was hot and clammy, but his fingers kept her in a vicelike grip when she tried to pull away. He continued to whisper the word to her in his sleep, and her breathing fractionally quickened with each passing second.
"Please…Father…" She froze.
"…I am your loyal son," he moaned softly. Then he was still, and Katara could feel her pulse hammering in her ears. The hold on her wrist began to slacken, but she found herself unable to move as she gaped at Zuko.
And suddenly, he was sitting up, and he was clawing at his face, and he was screaming. It was the kind of agonizing wail that made Katara's blood run cold.
Without thinking, she lunged forward and clamped her hands on his shoulders. "Zuko, wake up!" For good measure, she gave him a violent shake. "Wake up—it's not real!"
It took effort not to flinch away from the heat that radiated through the thin fabric of his shirt, but Katara could almost immediately see him begin to respond to her firm grip. His body trembled and heaved as he slowly came back from wherever his nightmare had taken him.
After several excruciating seconds, Zuko sagged under her hands, looking around wildly before his liquid gold eyes found hers. In the next instant, all they could do was stare at each other while he fought to catch his breath. Then, the comprehension of their relative positions seemed to simultaneously hit both of them, as Katara hastily removed her hands from him. He slumped further into the futon.
Katara sat back heavily onto the floor. Her stomach lurched horribly as the implication of what had just occurred set in—that her suspicion had been all but confirmed. Despite the scar's conspicuous absence from the face of the man in front of her, she could imagine it with perfect clarity. How it never seemed to her like a typical burn. How it looked as though someone had forced his face into a fire and held him there. How it was shaped…almost like a handprint.
To her horror, tears began to spring to her eyes.
"I don't want your pity." His voice was hoarse. Katara swallowed, refusing to meet the glare he leveled onto her. She wasn't entirely sure if 'pity' was the word she would use to describe her current state of emotions. He sighed and continued, "It was a long time ago."
Something cold settled over Katara when he didn't bother trying to deny what she now knew for certain to be true. There was a beat of silence before she hesitantly voiced her next question. "How often do you have dreams like that?"
This seemed to give him pause. When Katara finally looked up from her lap, his eyes were far away, brows knit together. "…Never, I guess. Until now."
She took a moment to absorb his words. Had her question about his scar triggered the nightmare? Her thoughts from earlier began to swirl back to the surface of her mind. The mark of the banished prince, cursed to chase the Avatar forever.
The realization felt like a kick to the chest. Zuko's father burned and banished him, sending him on a hunt for someone thought to be dead for a hundred years. What could he have possibly done to deserve that?
She couldn't take it anymore. "But why? How could—how could he—how could you—?" She gestured desperately toward him, and she knew by the resignation in his expression that he had understood the meaning of her jumbled words.
The silence stretched between them, until Katara added hastily, "You don't have to tell me."
Zuko pinned her with his gaze, and for what felt like several minutes, he seemed to scrutinize her. Katara shifted uncomfortably and made to stand, assuming his silence was her answer.
"You should get some sleep," he told her quietly, and when Katara turned to look at him, she could see the unspoken words in his eyes. Not right now.
She made to protest, but something in his drawn expression stopped her. It wasn't an outright rejection, but he had made it clear that she already knew more than he had ever intended. She was never supposed to learn this about him, let alone in the way she had.
Katara huffed, accepting the change of subject—partly for herself, to get Zuko's screams out of her head. She hoped he didn't notice the shiver rip through her as she made her way back toward the table.
"I can't. I'm trying to put together a list of temples to visit. We should be able to get to a good amount of the closer ones tomorrow if we leave first thing. I just have to ask your uncle which ones are more likely to…" She trailed off at the look on Zuko's face. He was just…staring at her. Again. This time, however, she could see a hint of something like melancholy etched into his features.
"What?" she asked, apprehension coloring her tone. The screams echoed once again in the back of her mind.
After a moment's hesitation, he spoke slowly. "Shouldn't you be making dinner plans?"
Katara opened her mouth, then closed it again. It was just about the last thing she had expected him to say. Using her obvious surprise to his advantage, Zuko took a deep breath before he stood to face her.
"Look, I know how important it is to you that we—that you get out of here. But…I don't know if that's going to happen anytime soon. You and I both know it won't be as simple as standing in some spiritual room and…doing what, exactly?" His voice faltered over the question, betraying a hint of desperation.
Katara kept her expression carefully blank. "So, you're saying we should just give up."
Zuko chewed his lip. "No… I'm saying that we're here for a reason. I know you don't trust me, and I'm not asking you to. I just think you should consider that this is where you're supposed to be right now."
Katara released a sigh. His words were undeniably coated with sincerity, but she knew Zuko's selfish reasons for saying them. He wanted to investigate what his uncle had told him. Suddenly, Zuko's father's occupation didn't seem so humorous. And the knowledge of his proximity…she wondered with no small amount of alarm if Zuko was so conditioned that he would attempt to seek the man out.
After everything, she couldn't find the energy to blame Zuko for any of it. Maybe it was out of pity, or perhaps deep down, she felt just as pessimistic about the prospect of the temples being their ticket home.
But she couldn't begin to wrap her head around the notion of…just letting things play out? How could Zuko, after he was the one who told her that Azula had set a trap for her friends, expect her not to do the most in her power to get back to warn them?
Katara didn't want to admit to herself the next thought that crossed her mind but found herself thinking it anyway. Was it egotistical to wonder if they would even go through with the invasion without her? It wouldn't be the first time Aang had put Katara before his duties as the Avatar.
She hadn't realized Zuko was waiting for her to say something until he cleared his throat and spoke again. "Katara, you have to believe me when I tell you that you will regret it if you don't see your mother."
"You don't know that," she muttered, though part of her knew that he was right. The other, larger part of her, was terrified.
"I do. If there is one thing I'm an expert in, it's regret." His gaze dropped to the floor, and though his hair covered his expression, Katara could hear that same pain laced in his voice that she had heard when he spoke about his uncle.
Katara and Zuko felt it at the same time. They both turned toward the window to see that the sky had begun to lighten in a telltale sign of approaching dawn. The pull of the moon faded away. And that was when she knew there was no point in debating herself any longer. Assuming she would be back in her own reality by the end of the day was simply denial.
Steeling herself, she turned back to the firebender. "Do you think your uncle could help me get a dinner reservation?"
Though Katara might have imagined it, she thought she saw him fight a small smile.
As it turned out, Iroh was more than capable of procuring her a dinner reservation for that evening. He had been delighted when Katara called him later that morning and assured her that it wouldn't be any problem. "I just have to make a quick phone call. A friend of mine owes me a favor. I hope you like pasta!"
She hadn't had the faintest idea what that meant but wasn't about to look a gift buffalo yak in the mouth.
After Zuko had bid her a subdued farewell and left for his shift at the tea shop, Sokka called.
"So, Mom and Dad are kind of on their way, and I don't mean to rush you but—"
"Oh! Right, sorry. I didn't tell you. We have a reservation for 7:30 at…" Katara checked her notes from her conversation with Iroh, "Ill Buko?"
She was met with silence. "Sokka? Is that okay?"
"Did you just say 'il Buco'? How in the hell did you manage to get a reservation there? Even I know about il Buco."
"Actually, um, Zuko's uncle helped me. So, you're okay with that?" It was impossible to gauge his tone without seeing his face.
"Are you joking? I'm more than okay with it! Why don't you invoke Zuko's familial connections more often?"
Katara inhaled shakily at that but stifled the response with a nervous chuckle. Why, indeed?
"Anyway," continued Sokka, evidently oblivious to his sister's discomfort, "I'll relay the message. Dad's going to be over the moon. Let's meet at your place after work, and we can head over there together."
Katara once again caught herself nodding to the empty room before she quickly replied, "Sounds good. See you tonight."
With that, she was alone with her thoughts and the crushing gravity of what she was about to do. She sank down onto the edge of the bed. In a few hours, she would see her mother again.
Unbidden, wisps of black snow pervaded her memories. The sound of her father's thundering footsteps as he sprinted ahead of her, pulling aside the curtain at their hut's entrance. The smell of burning flesh…
Another wave of nausea sent a shiver through Katara's entire body. However, this time, the knots in her gut only tightened the longer she attempted to wait it out, and she knew she had reached her tipping point. She made it to the washroom just in time to empty the contents of her stomach. She spent several minutes curled up on the cold tiles, focusing all of her mental effort on controlling her breathing and quelling the sudden dizziness.
When it felt safe to rise, she did so slowly, gripping the edges of the water basin for support. Her head still spun slightly with the effort, but her vision cleared once she was standing upright.
The reflection in the mirror had seen better days. Her skin was sallow, eyes red-rimmed and shadowed underneath. She was in desperate need of a change of clothes.
Katara stared at her for a long time. Could she pretend to be this person? Suppress the memories of her own past to keep up a facade for this indulgent fantasy? Is it worth it?
A voice that did not belong to her whispered, Of course it is.
Sweeping the sweat-dampened hair out of her face, Katara exhaled and turned away from the mirror to set to work on rectifying her appearance. She deliberately prolonged the process, taking time to explore the vast array of beauty products that littered the washroom. It was a welcome distraction. By the time she had returned to the front room and changed into a dress that was as close as possible to Water Tribe blue, Katara was satisfied to find that she had successfully killed a few hours.
The lack of sleep was beginning to catch up to her. She gingerly stretched herself onto the mattress, careful not to wrinkle the dress. Maybe if I rest my eyes for just a few minutes…
Katara jolted awake when the front door opened, relaxing only slightly when Zuko stepped inside. Evidently, she had done more than rest her eyes.
"Hi." The word became a yawn as she said it.
"Hello," he said, before taking in her appearance. "… You're wearing makeup." It wasn't a question.
Katara felt her brows pull down. "Um…yes."
It looked like he wanted to say something else but thought better of it as he averted his eyes. Katara watched him set his black bag on the floor near the futon—she hadn't noticed he had started carrying it with him—and remove his shoes to place them neatly on the small rack by the front door.
"My uncle says that you're in for a treat tonight," he ground out with forced enthusiasm, moving to perch on the futon's edge. He looked exhausted.
"It was very kind of him to help me."
Zuko sighed and offered her a tiny smile. "That's Uncle…how are you feeling?"
Katara could only manage a shrug, her nerves beginning to get the better of her. If Zuko was home, that meant it wouldn't be long before Sokka would come to pick her up.
He nodded solemnly, and an unspoken understanding seemed to pass between them as they lapsed into silence.
Katara wasn't sure how much time had passed when Zuko gathered a change of clothes and strode into the washroom. It occurred to her then just how little privacy they had available to them in the tiny apartment. Sure, her home at the Southern Water Tribe had been roughly the same size, but Zuko hadn't been one of its occupants, and there were more options of company to keep. She lay back and listened through the thin walls to the sound of running water, and Zuko's contented sigh as he stepped under its caress.
Was this going to be Katara's life for the foreseeable future? She found herself scanning the cluttered room, eyeing the stack of clothes heaped at the foot of the bed with a frown. It would take the better part of an afternoon to wash all of those in their small tub. Her gaze moved to the growing pile of dishes in the kitchen basin, and an image invaded her thoughts: Katara washing the dishes with her waterbending while the prince of the Fire Nation stood next to her, blowing on them with hot air to dry. She imagined him getting overzealous with the heat and her own chastising words about damaging the plates' glazing. A humorless laugh escaped her lips. Was she doomed forever to play House with Zuko?
The water shut off in the other room, and Katara half-listened to the firebender's shuffling movements. Absently, she released a vaporous breath and froze it into delicate ice crystals, twirling them around her fingers.
Domesticity aside, she knew she could speak for both Zuko and herself in expressing her disinterest in the forced familiarity that the two had already begun to experience. Zuko was her enemy. There was never supposed to be so much gray area on that front. But Katara was quickly learning that it was impossible to avoid each other—in every sense—in such close quarters. If there would be no more nightmares and no more confrontations, other inevitabilities were sure to come.
With a wave of Katara's hand, the ice crystals became sharp points. She flicked her wrist, and they flew like tiny daggers toward the wall, only to stop just before making contact and melt away with another subtle hand movement from the waterbender.
She let her hand drop when the washroom door creaked open, filling the apartment with a plume of steam. Zuko emerged from it, carding a hand through his dripping hair. He surveyed the room briefly before settling once again on the futon with a defeated grunt.
Katara had been about to make a retort about their accommodations being beneath his princely station when a knock sounded at the front door. Before she could move, Zuko abruptly stood to open it.
"Sokka, what's up, man?" he exclaimed, moving aside so that the ganglier man could step through.
Sokka made a show of breathlessness as he hunched over and gripped the doorframe. "Oh, you know, the usual. Just relishing in the fact that I don't live in a walkup."
Zuko grasped her brother's hand before pulling him into a quick one-armed hug. "I don't know. Seems like you could use the exercise," he replied with a smirk.
Sokka slugged him in the shoulder in response, and both men snickered. Thunderstruck, Katara could only gawk at the interaction. Is he…?
She quickly snapped her mouth shut when they turned to her. "Hey, sis. You ready to go?"
Katara swallowed her astonishment and forced a smile. "Yeah," she said, standing up as she spoke.
Behind Sokka, Zuko seemed to come back to himself, his eyes widening as he stared at the other man's back. The firebender stumbled over to the table and sank slowly into one of the wooden chairs, rubbing his temples as he did so.
He visibly jerked when Sokka turned to address him again. "What's with the sweatpants? Aren't you coming with us?"
Zuko's gaze slid over to Katara, and for a moment, he said nothing. He kept his eyes on her when he eventually said, "No."
Sokka looked between them, confused. "But, didn't your uncle get us the reservation?"
"Yes," Zuko replied simply, and another lengthy silence followed. Zuko seemed to notice that the siblings were waiting for further explanation, and he continued with a put-upon sigh. "You two should spend time with just your family."
"Are you sure? Mom's expecting you."
Katara's lips started moving before she knew what she was saying. "Mom and Dad will be here all weekend, right? Zuko can tag along on another day." Shut up, shut up, shut up!
Katara bit down hard on her tongue, and Zuko made no attempt to conceal his bewilderment at her words. His mouth opened and closed again, and some part of Katara's addled brain wanted to laugh at his resemblance to a fish.
Sokka paid the sudden tension no mind as he nodded. "Right. That's a good idea." He turned to face Katara fully. "Well, we should head out. The F isn't running, so we have to walk."
Katara nodded dumbly and shuffled after her brother toward the door. "Good luck," Zuko murmured as she passed, too low for Sokka to hear.
Sokka, it turned out, walked at a pace rather too leisurely for Katara's liking. The closer they got to the restaurant, the more she could feel the adrenaline shooting through her veins. She couldn't decide if she wanted to get to their destination faster or turn around and run back the way they came. Her brother's easy chatter went mostly unheard over the rush of blood in her ears. For a distraction, she tried to focus on her surroundings—on the cracks in the walkway, the rumblings of trains deep underground, the warm breeze hitting her face. But her efforts were fruitless, and they ambled through the crowded streets at Sokka's infuriating pace for what felt like ages.
Her brother's voice broke her from the white noise of her mind. "Looks like we beat them here."
She looked up to see a bright green facade with floor-length windows that opened onto a lively patio. The area was sectioned off with planters the color of tropical Fire Nation seas, each overflowing with unfamiliar flora. The words 'il Buco' were set into an ivy wall at the top of the building, its vines falling elegantly over the windows and door frames. The restaurant was packed, and a small line formed at the set of double doors leading inside.
Sokka stepped squarely into her line of sight. "Don't forget to act surprised when they get here." Worry flashed in his eyes—evidently, her apprehension on the walk over hadn't gone unnoticed.
Katara attempted a reassuring smile, but she was certain it ended up appearing as a lopsided grimace. "Right."
The next several minutes were spent in silence, with Katara staring at nothing in particular and Sokka glancing anxiously at passersby as they leaned up against a planter. She had just begun talking herself into making a run for it when Sokka loudly cleared his throat. "Showtime."
Katara would have been worried about the sudden return of her nausea except that her stomach was now empty. She screwed her eyes shut, only to snap them open a moment later at the feeling of a light squeeze on her arm.
She was met with blue eyes, and for a moment, she thought she was back in the apartment, staring at her reflection. Then the reflection smiled warmly, and Katara could see the laugh lines crease her expression, the streaks of silver in her short dark hair which revealed a familiar—but changed—face, no longer a vague image frozen in time.
Katara flung herself into waiting arms and felt the woman stumble at the impact. She inhaled an unfamiliar floral scent that she knew the moment she did so it would be burned forever in her memory.
"Mom," she breathed, and her knees nearly buckled upon her comprehension that she was now taller than the woman in her embrace.
Kya pet her hair and chuckled. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. "Surprise!"
…And Katara nearly fell apart at the sound of the voice she hadn't realized she had forgotten the sound of. She scarcely noticed when her mother released her, only for her to be pulled into a second pair of arms.
"Hey, kiddo," rumbled Hakoda. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" He pulled away to hold her at arm's length, and his grinning face melted into one of concern. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
Katara's tears flowed freely and silently. She would not have noticed them had they not blurred her view of the man in front of her. She scrubbed at her face to clear them away but shortly discovered that her efforts were futile. Her mother's soothing hand landed on her shoulder, and it took every ounce of strength she had not to crumble completely under its weight.
She dully registered Sokka's teasing tone. "Damn, Katara. A few months apart, and you're a mess!" She sniffled and looked up just in time to see both of her parents shoot him murderous glares. The half-true words were yet another bleak reminder of her situation, and the tiny sob that escaped her was evidence that she was decidedly not keeping up appearances.
Feeling three pairs of eyes on her, she straightened. "I'm sorry, I just…" How could she possibly find the words? "I just missed you so much." More than you could ever know.
"Oh, honey." Kya enveloped her in another hug, squeezing her tighter than the first time. From his place next to her, Hakoda ruffled her hair. "We missed you, too." And that was when Katara knew that Zuko had been right. She would have never forgiven herself for missing this.
"Well, I'm starving," announced Sokka. "Can we go inside now?"
Kya pulled a small tissue from her bag and gently swiped it under Katara's eyes. "We'll have to get you some waterproof mascara." Something clenched inside Katara's chest as she offered her mother a tight smile.
Steeling herself, she turned to lead the way into the restaurant. Sokka caught up to step ahead of her, and Katara remembered that he was supposed to be the one leading. "It was a bit overkill, but nice job on acting surprised," he whispered.
Behind them, Hakoda clapped his hands together. "I still can't believe you managed to get us a table here, son. You'll have to pass our thanks to Zuko's uncle."
They waited in line for several minutes. Katara was grateful that her parents seemed to notice that she wasn't yet ready for conversation. She took a few more steadying breaths as they stepped through the double doors.
The inside of the restaurant was decorated similarly to the outside. The ivy motif extended along every wall but one, which was occupied by shelves of bottles of varying sizes and shapes. In front of the latter wall was a counter lined with strange-looking spouts. Much like the place she had been to with Zuko, Katara noticed an atmosphere of organized chaos in the dining room as waiters flitted from table to table, dodging trays of food. She watched her brother approach a small podium, where a woman received him cheerfully.
"Hi. We have a 7:30 reservation for Sokka." He had to yell for her to hear him properly.
"Sokka…" the woman paused, her face turned downward as she stared intently at something Katara couldn't see. "I'm sorry. I don't see your name here." She gave Sokka an apologetic glance before looking past him at the next group of people waiting to approach the podium. He spluttered indignantly and was about to turn his wrath on Katara when he was interrupted.
"Ah, Iroh's guests," said another voice, and a burly, mustached man rounded a corner to greet them. "Welcome, welcome!" He vigorously shook each of their hands before leading them away from the now-flustered hostess and into the crowded dining area. Sokka raised a brow and glanced at Katara, who merely shrugged in response, still not entirely confident in her ability to speak without dissolving into hysterics. Upon entering the dining area, she understood why it was so difficult to get a reservation at il Buco. She counted only six tables in the room. To her puzzlement, they were all occupied.
However, the confusion was short-lived because the man led them straight to the back, where he pulled aside a curtain and ushered the group through it. The curtain opened into a small, private room. Unlike the rest of the restaurant, it was sparsely decorated. A polished wooden table on which a large bouquet of yellow flowers had been placed as a centerpiece took up most of the space. At each seat was an elaborate place setting with unfamiliar-looking utensils.
Hakoda let out a low whistle at the same time that Sokka said, "Wow." Kya made to sit down, and their host hastily pulled her chair out before doing the same for Katara next to her. Once they were seated, he plucked the folded napkins from the table to rest them across their laps.
"My name is Luca, and I will be taking care of you this evening." As he spoke, he moved around the table, hands deftly overturning glasses and pouring water from a pitcher into each one. "We will be providing you with a very special tasting menu with wine pairings. Does anyone have any allergies or dietary restrictions?"
Katara had no idea what any of that meant, but she followed Sokka's lead and shook her head. Hakoda shifted in his seat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Oh, I'm not sure we can afford—"
Luca cut him off with a wave of the hand. "It's on the house. Friends of Iroh's are friends of ours. I'll be right back with bread and appetizers." He was gone before anyone could protest.
"Holy shit," said Sokka incredulously.
His mother narrowed her eyes at him briefly before she nodded her agreement. "We owe Zuko's uncle a huge debt for this." She turned her gaze on Katara. "Speaking of which, where is Zuko tonight? I'd hoped you would bring him."
Katara swallowed. "Oh, um—"
Sokka interrupted her. "He wanted us to get in some family bonding time."
Kya grinned, her focus remaining on Katara. "That's very considerate of him. I do want to see him, though, so make sure to invite him along this weekend if he isn't busy. We have to thank him and his uncle properly for this meal!" Her voice had taken on a tone of mock severity. Katara felt her head bob up and down, deciding then that she would do just about anything for the woman next to her.
Luca returned with a covered basket, which Sokka and Hakoda dug into the moment he set it down. It was filled with various types of sliced bread and rolls. He then held up a bottle of what Katara assumed was wine—though it looked nothing like any wine she had ever seen. He poured a small amount of the dark red liquid into Kya's glass, prompting her to try it. Once she nodded her approval, Luca poured more into her glass and filled the rest of the glasses. Katara immediately took a sip of hers in the hope that the drink would calm her nerves. She didn't expect the bitter taste and nearly choked on it, prompting an amused snicker from Sokka.
Two more servers filed into the room, balancing a large platter of various offerings between them. Once it was placed in the center of the table, Luca explained each type of dish that made up the sampler. None of it sounded familiar to Katara. Despite her growling stomach, she didn't feel much like eating, but it felt wasteful not to indulge.
She grabbed one portion of each dish and had been about to take her first bite when her father spoke. "So tell us about the big job, Katara! Trying to get details out of you over the phone is like pulling teeth."
Katara met Hakoda's gaze, and for the first time that evening, took a moment to really look at him. To her surprise, he looked almost exactly as he had when she last saw him three years ago, even though he was more than a decade older. This version of her father was clean-shaven, though he kept his hair in the same style as the one she knew—minus the hair beads, she noted with slight disappointment. Katara felt her face heat when she realized she had been staring at him without answering his question. His eyes twinkled with amusement.
"It's, um, going well." She took a swig of wine and wracked her brain for any kind of notable detail from the single day she had gone to work. "I like my coworkers?" she added lamely. Her voice sounded small to her ears.
"Oh, please. Katara is just being modest. She's crushing it. Five months in, and she's already in talks to get a promotion," said Sokka proudly. Guilt squeezed her insides. That might not still be the case after she had neglected to show up for a week.
"That's fantastic news, sweetheart!" said Kya, her voice muffled by a bread roll.
Hakoda shook his head slowly, beaming. "First, you graduate top of your class, and now you're getting promoted less than a year into your first post-college job."
"We're so proud of you," her mother added, squeezing Katara's hand.
Katara took a shaky breath, her gaze dropping to the table. It was too much—just one glaring reminder after another that these were the other Katara's parents and the other Katara's accomplishments. She was a master waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe, helping the Avatar save the world. But they could never know this about her. Tears pricked once again at the corners of her eyes, but they went unnoticed as Luca arrived with the second course and a second bottle of wine.
As the meal went on, Katara's mood improved. Whether that could be attributed to the steady flow of wine or the delicious food, she wasn't sure. She mostly just listened as Sokka told her parents the crazy stories from his architectural drafting job. It sounded like his boss was a demanding sort. More often than not, Katara's eyes were trained on her mother. She did her best to memorize her facial expressions and the sound of her laughter. Questions directed at Katara became more answerable with every sip of her drink. By the time dessert arrived, her vision was rather out of focus.
Sokka groaned. "I could eat that seafood linguine every day for the rest of my life."
Hakoda laughed heartily and patted his stomach. "I feel the same about the veal piccata." Katara had not paid attention to the dishes' names, but she wouldn't have minded eating anything off that menu for the rest of her life.
Kya rolled her eyes and shot Katara a look before picking up one of the small, cream-filled pastries on the dessert platter. She examined it for a moment before dropping it back onto the platter with a sigh. "Too full. Can't do it."
Sokka flung his hands up indignantly. "That's not the right attitude. Where's your second stomach?"
"Second stomach?" Katara asked, her words slurring slightly.
"You know, you have your dinner stomach and your dessert stomach. Your second stomach!"
For a brief moment, Katara wondered if that was another strange revelation about this reality—that everyone had two stomachs. But Hakoda laughed and shook his head. "I think that's just you, son."
Too soon, Katara found herself standing—albeit a bit wobbly—as she followed Sokka out of the restaurant. The four of them thanked Luca profusely before stumbling out into the street and saying their goodbyes.
She was pulled into another of her mother's tight embraces. "Come by our hotel tomorrow when you're done with work, okay?"
Katara nodded into her hair. "I love you."
When she reluctantly pulled away, Hakoda placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "Love you, kid. See you tomorrow."
Once Sokka had given them each a hug, they turned in the opposite direction of where Katara needed to go. She watched their retreating backs until she could no longer see them.
Her brother looked up at her from his phone. "Hey, I'm going to meet up with some friends at a bar near here. Do you want to join?"
She could already feel herself sobering up, and the night's emotions were beginning to gain on her. "No, thanks. I think I'll just head straight home."
He pursed his lips. "Okay, if you're sure. But at least let me call you a rideshare or something. I don't want you to walk back alone at night."
"Sure, Sokka," Katara said dismissively, too exhausted to ask what a rideshare was.
She watched him tap away at his phone until he looked up at her. "Two minutes." Two minutes until what?
Katara had her answer shortly when one of the death machines rolled to a stop in front of them. Her eyes widened. He expects me to get inside one of those?
The answer to her second question became clear when Sokka opened the door for her. She turned a panicked look to her brother, but he was once again focused on his phone. With a gulp, she slid into the black leather interior of the machine. A man cast in shadow sat in front of her, his hands gripping some kind of wheel. "Sokka?" he asked.
"Yeah," her brother answered from outside. "Text me when you get home." She nodded.
"By the way, thanks for putting this all together. It was so much more than I could have asked for." She could hear the smile in his voice.
"It was all Iroh," she mumbled.
"It was you, too. I'll see you tomorrow." He shut the door, and she was alone with the strange man. She bit back a yelp when the machine started moving and gripped the seat for dear life.
"Ma'am, can you please put on your seatbelt?"
"Uh…" Katara fumbled with the strap that she prayed was the seatbelt, tugging it over herself and putting it through a slot on her other side. When she felt eyes on her, she looked up and started at the sight of the man's face, visible through a small mirror at the front of the machine, staring at her strangely. He looked away quickly when she caught him, and they rode in silence.
Katara spent several minutes trying to decipher the various buttons and dials at the front of the machine before eventually giving up to watch the scenery race by out the window. She supposed these death machines weren't so bad from the inside. If anything, it was a perfect diversionary activity while she delayed the inevitable thoughts about her evening with Mom.
The man had to stop several times to let other, faster machines pass. They flew by in a blur of blinking lights and blaring noises. After the fourth stop, she heard him mutter, "What the hell is going on over here?"
It seemed that the closer they got to their destination, the more lights and horns appeared. Eventually, they could move no further. All of the blinking machines had stopped in the middle of the road, creating some kind of blockade.
"This is as close as I can get. Do you want me to let you out here or try to go around?"
Katara was already opening the door. "Here is fine. Thank you."
"Sure. Have a good night." As soon as the door was closed again, the machine took off down the street and out of sight.
It was when Katara began walking in the direction of the blockade—the direction of the apartment—that she realized something was wrong. The air was becoming thicker as she walked further, but not with the humidity she was just beginning to get used to. At first, her throat itched with only a vague discomfort. It gradually worsened until each breath felt as if she was being scorched from within. Before long, she began to cough violently, clutching at her chest. Her eyes watered, and she had to squint to see through the rapidly-solidifying haze of smoke. Its familiar smell burned in her nostrils.
The cold dread set in when Katara reached the source of the smoke. A woman wearing some kind of protective gear approached her. Over the cacophony of people shouting, she could hardly hear her say, "What are you doing here? Get back!"
Katara ignored her and stared unseeingly at her and Zuko's apartment building, now engulfed in flames. The shouting voices suddenly sounded far away, and Katara didn't immediately register the set of hands that forcefully pulled her backward.
AN: It was about time to give Katara a whole chapter. :)
I know that was another big delay between updates. I should be getting back to a more regular update schedule now that real life has slowed down a bit. To the reviewers I told I would have a chapter up by the end of the weekend: my perfectionist brain got in the way of that. I hope you're sticking with me and that this whopper of a chapter made up for it!
All of your comments are such wonderful mood boosters - keep them coming, please! The continued support of this little story means the world to me.