Disclaimer: I do not own ATLA or LoK.

CW: injury

CHAPTER 10

"What are you doing here? Get back!" shouted a voice much louder than the rest, breaking through Zuko's numb thoughts.

He felt his head swivel toward it in slow motion, vaguely aware of unfamiliar hands poking and prodding at his skin—the medics had been persistent despite his feeble attempts to fight them off. Everything came sharply back into focus, however, when his gaze found the voice's target.

Suddenly, he was on his feet.

"Sir, we need you to sit down. Sir!"

Zuko tuned out the protests from both the medics and his exhausted muscles. More voices called after him as he weaved through crowds of onlookers in a dead sprint toward the blue-clad figure staring transfixed at the blaze. He ducked around uniformed bodies, nearly losing his footing for his efforts.

His hands were on her shoulders and yanking before his mind could catch up to his actions. Katara staggered backward, landing heavily against his chest.

He felt, more than heard, her sharp intake of breath. "Zuk—" she dissolved into a hollow coughing fit, and Zuko found himself holding her upright, arms wrapped securely around her middle while her body jerked under his hold. The friction caused by her movements made it increasingly difficult to ignore the ghost of flames still licking at his limbs.

The voice from earlier reached his ears from somewhere nearby. "It's not safe for you to stand th—young man, you need to get to a hospital!"

Disregarding that, he whirled Katara around and began to steer her away from the fray. "We have to move."

"Zuko—" More coughing. More friction. It took every ounce of Zuko's strength not to snatch his hands away. His eyes watered as he swallowed back his own coughing fit. The smoke was thickening.

"Zuko, let go of me," Katara rasped.

He winced but tightened his grip. "No."

"But, I can help!" She struggled into a bending stance. Off to the left, a stream of water burst forth from an unknown source. Zuko couldn't tell whether or not it was her doing.

"No, you can't." He removed one of his arms from her waist to take both of her wrists in his hand, pinning them behind her back and ignoring her indignant grunt. He peered anxiously at the nearest bystanders. None seemed to pay the two benders any mind, but through the smoke, Zuko could make out the concerned face of one of the medics who had treated him earlier watching them closely. He whispered something to his colleague, who turned abruptly and locked eyes with Zuko.

A sharp 'crack' split through the air, and suddenly all attention turned toward the fire. The building's foundation began to rupture, ensuing utter chaos around them. More panicked cries rang out, and debris crashed to the street. Katara worked ferociously to pull her wrists free, but it wasn't long before she was once again choking on smoke.

Zuko pressed his face into her hair, his voice dropping to an urgent hiss. "Katara, you can't let them see your bending."

She must have picked up on the desperation in his tone because she had gone abruptly still at his words. Around them, blasts of water that were decidedly not Katara's hit the building relentlessly. But even as the orange glow faded and the black haze around them lightened to gray, it was clear that help had come too late.

"There's nothing you can do," he said with more volume.

He couldn't see her face—her gaze was still fixed on the crumbling remnants of their temporary home—but after a moment, she nodded stiffly.

Zuko tentatively released one of Katara's hands and tugged the other in the direction of away—anywhere but here. She didn't resist.

They ran until the smell of smoke was only memory, and then some. Zuko had no idea where they were going—Katara had long since overtaken him once she had inhaled cleaner air. But while Katara seemed to hold endless stores of energy, Zuko's adrenaline was quickly fading. His skin prickled and stretched uncomfortably with every stride. It wasn't until he finally stumbled, his hand slipping from hers, that Katara skidded to a stop and whipped around to face him.

The thunderstorm in her blue eyes had him bracing for the inevitable barrage of questions. But it never came, because the storm gave way to alarm, and she was pulling water from thin air and kneeling at his side and how did she do that? When did I end up on the ground?

Katara wreathed her hands with the liquid without preamble, brows furrowed in concentration as she placed them against the side of Zuko's exposed thigh. He had no time to think about how much more of his clothing had been burned away before the phantom flames he had felt earlier became very real. He inhaled sharply through his teeth, the all-too-familiar hot knives dragging themselves across his skin at an agonizing pace.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Katara said, her voice low and soothing. But Zuko didn't look. He didn't want to see. Instead, he focused on the long curtain of her hair as she bent over her work. Between the dark strands, he could see that her eyes were rimmed with red, smudges of black makeup staining the skin around them. A slight flush dusting her cheeks was the only indication that she had exerted herself during their escape. She was lit with the same celestial glow he had seen the first time she healed him in the Spirit World.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he was certain Katara had not been finished when the water suddenly splashed back onto his leg with an unpleasant slap. She cursed under her breath and glanced at a point over Zuko's shoulder. His unspoken question was answered by the sounds of footsteps and conversation from somewhere behind him.

Zuko—with the grace of a newborn dragon moose—got to his feet. "You were doing that in the middle of the street?" The acidity in his tone was diluted by his short-windedness.

Katara shot him an icy glare before rolling her eyes. "You didn't exactly give me a choice."

The two men paid them no mind as they strolled passed, engrossed in a conversation about tattoos.

Katara watched them walk away for a moment before she hesitantly tucked herself against Zuko's side, gently taking his arm to sling it over her shoulder. He was suddenly hyperaware of how heavy his body felt, and he detested himself for it.

"Let's get to your uncle's."

It was slow going. The small patch of Zuko's leg that Katara had managed to heal wasn't enough to keep him upright. To his utter mortification, she practically carried him to Uncle's apartment.

Katara was silent other than the occasional cough. Still, he could feel the tension radiating from her as she shifted uncomfortably under his weight.

Zuko couldn't take it anymore. "I know what you're thinking." The words came out in a breathy wheeze, making him want to slam his head against the pavement. In his peripherals, Zuko could see her head turn toward him, but he kept his eyes pointedly ahead. She said nothing, which he took as confirmation of his words.

"You should know that I didn't start the fire."

Katara was once again facing forward. "Should I? It doesn't really matter."

It was Zuko's turn to look over at her. "It doesn't matter?" he asked incredulously.

She huffed but didn't meet his gaze. "I don't care whose fault it was. What's done is done."

"Well, it wasn't me."

"Okay."

Neither spoke again for the remainder of their walk. Part of Zuko wanted to tell her more—that he did the best he could. That earlier, he told her from experience that there was nothing she could have done to help. But that would mean admitting failure.

There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but Zuko had never been good with words.

He knew the tides had shifted the moment he was pulled away from the worst ten seconds of his life by Katara's firm hands.

Of course, the last thing he had wanted to do was lay bare for her his greatest shame, let alone to weep like a child about it. Not that the details of his banishment were a secret—but he hadn't minded the advantage of Katara's sheltered South Pole upbringing.

It's like she said, he thought bitterly. What's done is done.

But mere hours ago, he had been ready to embrace the change. He had waited up for her. He had wanted to.

And then there was that damned smell.

There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but he knew now that whatever fragile understanding that had formed between them had, quite literally, exploded in his face. How could he expect her to believe that he didn't light that building on fire to keep her trapped in this place?

A tiny voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like his uncle told him that she hadn't left him yet. Her cool body pressed against his—supporting most of his weight—was the physical reminder. He silently reprimanded the voice for allowing him to hope.

It wasn't until they were on the doorstep to Uncle's apartment building that they realized he probably wouldn't be awake to let them in.

Zuko rested against the side of the building—he was so, so tired—and looked on in fascination when Katara had her phone pressed to her ear with lightning speed. Even with Uncle's help, Zuko couldn't hope to figure things out as quickly as she did.

"Hi, Iroh. I'm so sorry to wake you, but we're outside. Can you let us in?"

Zuko could faintly make out a garbled response before the phone was back in Katara's bag as quickly as she had removed it.

Her eyes narrowed in Zuko's direction. "What?"

He had been staring. Oops. "Nothing. I just—how do you do that?"

She tilted her head quizzically. "Do what?"

The door flew open before he could respond. "What a pleasant surprise!" Uncle gave Katara a smile bright enough for Zuko to wonder if he had not actually been asleep when she called. But then his eyes panned to his bedraggled nephew slumped against the wall and widened in horror.

Katara interrupted whatever he had been about to say. "Can you help me get him upstairs?"

No one spoke until they were safely inside Iroh's apartment. The man himself had taken up a position opposite Katara under Zuko's other arm. They managed to hoist the firebender up the three flights of stairs with relative ease between the two of them. Zuko, for his part, didn't complain. Though by the way his feet dragged, Katara wasn't sure that was by choice.

Katara briefly explained that there had been a fire and that Zuko had been burned. Iroh started to lead them toward the living area. "Let's put you on the couch. I think I have a first aid kit here somewhere." Zuko groaned. Katara shook her head, though Iroh was far too focused on his nephew to notice.

"Actually, do you have a tub we can put him in?"

He paused and gave her a questioning look, but then Zuko mumbled, "Waterbender."

Iroh regarded Katara as if seeing her for the first time. He gestured vaguely at her person. "You can…?" She gave him a small smile and nodded in affirmation.

For a moment, he stared at her, mouth agape. Then he squeezed her hand where it met his behind Zuko's back. "What an extraordinary young woman you are!"

Without further prompting, he carefully extricated himself from his nephew. He bustled down a small hallway that led to a door—likely the washroom. Katara felt her face heat and pointedly ignored Zuko when she felt his gaze land on her.

She readjusted his arm over her shoulders to allow for more of his weight, disregarding his grumbled protests. This close to him, an odd minty scent reached her nose. It was not a smell she would have associated with the injuries Zuko was currently sporting, but it was a welcome alternative to the more familiar burn smell.

They followed after Iroh to the washroom to find that he was already filling the tub with water. Katara noted with satisfaction that the tub was larger than the one that had been in their apartment. More water meant a quicker healing process.

"Would you like it hot or cold?"

Despite her confusion—how can he heat the water without firebending?—Katara answered "cold," at the same time that Zuko said "hot."

She glowered at him, then turned back to Iroh with a serene smile. "Cold, please. It's better for the healing process."

Once he had assurance from Katara that Zuko would be fine, Iroh made himself scarce. He left a spare set of clothes for each of them and promised tea for whenever they were finished. Katara thanked him warmly, and Zuko gave him a weak nod.

When they were alone, Katara helped Zuko lower himself to the floor, propping him against the door. She worked him out of his soot-covered shoes and paused to steel herself before slipping into the role of Professional Healer. "Okay. The hardest part will be this first part."

He sighed, and Katara had a feeling he knew what she was going to say before she said it.

"We have to, um, get these off." She gestured to his ruined tunic and pants, on which singed holes revealed raw, shiny skin underneath. Even in her brief examination, Katara could see that the fabric had stuck to his wounds in some places.

He grunted his acknowledgment, already lifting his hips and beginning to tug at his waistband. More burns spanned the tops of his hands and forearms. Katara resisted the urge to push them away. This was still Zuko, after all, and she wouldn't stop him if he insisted on disrobing himself.

While Zuko worked on his pants, Katara shifted her attention to where someone had already cut away some of the fabric from his sleeves. The burns on his shoulders weren't as severe, and she realized the minty smell came from some kind of ointment that had been slathered across them. She made quick work of the rest of the shirt, pinching it at the seams near his collar and tearing. Her fingers lightly brushed against Zuko's neck, and he sucked in a breath at the contact. Katara's hands stilled as she checked his expression for signs of pain. He would have passed as unfazed if not for the angry scarlet blush spreading across his face. He wouldn't meet Katara's inquisitive gaze.

"Are you okay?"

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed audibly. He still didn't look at her. "Yes."

Katara thought he might have been lying, but from what she could tell, she hadn't yet touched any of the more sensitive injuries on his torso. With a small shrug, she continued pulling the shirt away from his chest, careful to move slowly. She didn't run into any snags until she reached the area around his navel. It was there that most of the fabric covering the left side extending out to the bottom of his ribcage was completely plastered to the skin underneath.

As if to punctuate her concern, Zuko's breath hissed through his teeth. Katara's head snapped to the lower half of his body. He was running into a similar problem at the bottom of the leg she had half-healed.

"Just do it, quick," he gritted out.

"Are you sure? I think it might be better to…"

She trailed off when he took in a gulp of air, held it, then ripped the rest of his pant leg away from the wound underneath. He released the breath in a huff, and Katara recoiled when she saw that the movement had taken a layer of skin with it.

"Zuko! You can't do it like that!" And more to herself, she mumbled, "You'd think a firebender might know a bit more about burn care." She slid down to his legs to examine the wound. Yes, he had definitely made it worse.

He glowered at her down his nose. "Maybe people like you have this problem. Fire Nation fabrics aren't so low in quality that they'd get stuck to burns." If he was trying to be offensive, his pained croak ruined the effect.

"How unfortunate for you, then, Your Highness, that you've been forced to wear rags. But sorry, I'm not going to just rip your skin off."

Zuko had pressed his lips together in a hard line. Katara took his silence as permission to do it her way.

She bent a small globe of water from the tub and formed it into a disc. Tentatively, she lifted the edge of his tunic with one hand and wedged the water disc underneath it with the other. Using the disc as a buffer, she slowly peeled the material away from his skin, moving the water as she went. It successfully provided a barrier between the injury and the fabric. Before long, she was tossing the shirt aside with a smirk.

There was no response from the prince.

Katara sat back to do another brief scan of his body. His breathing had become shallow, and his eyes were screwed shut. He was undoubtedly in a lot of pain, given the sheer number of burns that peppered his skin. However, Katara was still reasonably confident that it would be an easy healing session. She'd seen worse burns—well, on Zuko himself.

"Come on. Let's get you in the bath."

Zuko seemed determined to stand without her help, but he ended up mostly crawling and mumbling the whole way about being treated like a child. He didn't see Katara roll her eyes behind him.

After he inevitably—if reluctantly—accepted her assistance, Katara guided him by his elbows into the cool water. She gingerly hooked her arms under his to lower him in, and why did you want to do this in hot water when your skin is already this warm?

He gasped in pain and fell roughly against the end of the tub with a splash when his left side's particularly grisly wounds became submerged. Katara took a moment to wonder why that side was so much worse. Besides his arms, shoulders, and the odd bruising on his back, his right side was mostly unscathed.

She got to work right away, setting the entirety of the tub's contents aglow to create an all-encompassing healing effect before pinpointing the more severe burns. She would never say it aloud, but she was enjoying this a bit. It was, after all, a great opportunity to hone her skills.

Zuko relaxed almost immediately, his breathing becoming more even as time passed. As she suspected, it was a simple process. And no scarring.

Leaning over him as she was, it occurred to Katara for the first time that Zuko was exposed entirely, save for the undershorts—which they'd had an unspoken agreement to leave in place. Her eyes roved over the hard planes of his pale skin. This was most certainly not the sixteen-year-old body that had looked rather malnourished under the Crystal Catacombs.

Clearing her throat, she attempted with middling success to shift back into her Professional Healer persona. His eyes were closed, but she doubted he would appreciate her ogling. Yes, it wasn't the first time she had seen Zuko this way since getting stuck here with him, but she hadn't been this close.

Well, maybe it wasn't a crime to appreciate the view.

Zuko was asleep by the time she was finished. Katara couldn't help but chuckle softly when she heard the tiny snores escape his parted lips. He looked utterly at peace, especially in comparison to how he had the night before.

Deciding not to wake him, Katara drained the tub, grabbed her change of clothes and shuffled down the hall to where Iroh sat waiting at the small kitchen table. He stood the moment she emerged, eyes expectant.

"He's okay. He's asleep now."

Without warning, Iroh surged forward, tugging her into a bone-crushing hug. "Thank you so much, Katara."

Katara pulled back first and smiled. "It really wasn't as bad as it looked."

He shook his head. "He would be much worse off without you."

She didn't know how to respond to that. Instead, she held up the clothes he had given her and asked, "Is there somewhere I can change?"

Iroh glanced toward the washroom, brows knit together briefly before realization crossed his features. "Ah, right. Feel free to use my bedroom." He turned to busy himself with the tea kettle. She thanked him, grabbing her bag off the table before making her way to the open door leading from the living area and closing it gently behind her.

The bedroom was simple; most of the space was taken up by the bed itself. Its bedding was white and neatly made. In the far corner next to the window were a chair and a small bookshelf. Katara smiled at the sight of Mushi curled up on the chair, fast asleep.

Despite her desperate need to bathe, Katara quickly changed into what she now realized were women's sleep clothes. She briefly wondered why Iroh would have such things in his possession, but her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her phone buzzing. It was her coworker, Meili.

"Hello?"

"Katara! I've called you a million times. Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

How does she know? "Uh, how do you know—"

"I heard this really weird sound from somewhere outside. Then my Citizen app told me there was an explosion. I checked it, and it was your address! Is—did your apartment just fucking explode?"

Katara recalled when Meili had gotten on the train with her. She must have lived nearby. Though the bit about the Citizen app was a mystery. And, explosion? "I'm not actually sure what happened. I wasn't home."

There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then Meili said in a much smaller voice, "Was Zuko home?"

"Oh. Yeah, he was. But he's okay."

Katara heard an audible sigh from the other girl. "Do you need somewhere to stay? You have renters insurance, right?"

Do we need somewhere to stay? …Renters insurance?

"We're still sort of figuring things out right now. I'll, uh, let you know? Thanks for the offer." She meant that sincerely. Katara was glad that the other version of her had a friend like Meili.

"Of course! And, by the way, don't forget that you can tell me anything. It sounds like you're dealing with some things right now, and I just want you to know that I'm here for you."

Yes, she was definitely glad for Other Katara. "I appreciate that." Oh. She nearly forgot. "Oh, Meili? I think I'm going to need to take more time off work…"

"Ah, yeah. I figured. I would tell you that you're already pushing it under normal circumstances, but I think these count as extenuating. I'll let Wei An know for you."

"Thank you so much for doing that." Katara couldn't imagine trying to sort all of this out on her own.

"It's the least I can do. And, hey, just a heads up. The company might not allow you to have PTO after a certain point. Depending on how long you're gone, you might have to take a leave of absence."

"Um, I understand." She didn't.

"Okay. Listen, if you need anything at all, call me."

"I will."

They exchanged goodbyes and ended the call. When Katara looked at the phone again, she saw several messages and more missed calls. All were from Sokka.

'Did you make it home?'

'Hellooooo'

'Earth to Katara'

'I just called Zuko and it went straight to voicemail. Don't make me come over there'

'If you don't call or text me in the next 5 minutes I'm calling Mom'

The last message was from three minutes ago. She frantically wrote a response. Katara was still recovering from the first interaction with her mom.

'Sorry just seeing these I am fine'

Almost immediately, he sent her back a small image of a thumbs up. Katara breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't ready to ruin the evening she'd had with her family.

Mushi, awoken by her conversation, had started scratching on the door. Katara let him out and made her way to the kitchen table, where Iroh had placed a cup of tea and a small plate of cookies. Zuko was evidently still sleeping in the bathtub.

Upon her approach, Iroh settled across from her with his own cup of tea. "You both are welcome to stay with me tonight, but I don't think I'll be able to accommodate you for much longer than that."

Katara nodded. He didn't need to explain himself. Even if his apartment was bigger than the other one, three people were too many for the limited space. "That's okay. We'll figure something out."

Iroh looked appalled. "Oh, don't misunderstand me. I'm not just going to throw you out on the street." He chuckled. "I'll arrange another living situation for you. And whatever else you need. I'm here to help."

Katara thought about what Meili said about renters insurance and PTO and Citizen apps—logistics that she could never hope to understand. She was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for the man in front of her. "Thank you. For everything." She met the kind gold eyes, so similar to his nephew's. "The dinner was wonderful."

He smiled and pushed the plate of cookies toward her. "Oh, it was no trouble. I'm happy you enjoyed yourself."

They sipped their tea in companionable silence for several minutes. The cookies were almond—Toph's favorite if she remembered correctly.

Her thoughts drifted. Things had become so much more complicated. Was it right to leave this place without fixing things for Other Katara?

No, it wasn't. She knew that.

Her guilt intensified when she thought about that carefully-organized calendar in her phone—the one she hadn't looked at since getting stuck here. She'd skipped almost an entire week of work. How much had she missed? Even if this wasn't real to her, it was to someone.

Selfishly, she reminded herself that staying to smooth things over for Other Katara would give her more time with her mom.

She had just started to wonder if Zuko managed to recover any possessions amongst all of the chaos when Iroh spoke again. "Did my nephew cause the fire?"

Zuko sat up slowly and examined his wrinkled fingers. He'd been asleep for too long, but aside from the slight stiffness in his neck, he felt no pain. He rose quickly and changed into the clothes that sat folded on the edge of the tub.

Bracing himself, he checked the mirror. No scars. No evidence that anything had happened. He shook his head in amazement. Katara was good.

Out in the kitchen, Uncle was speaking. Zuko decided it was probably time to make an appearance. He was halfway down the hall when he heard Katara's reply.

"I wasn't there to see it, but no. He says he didn't do it, and I think I believe him."

Their heads turned when they heard him approach.

"Zuko, you look as good as new!" Hearing the relief in Uncle's voice felt a little like being stabbed, but all he could really think was she believes me.

Zuko kept his eyes on the woman seated across from his uncle when he responded. "I feel as good as new."

Once Uncle had ushered Zuko to the table, served him tea, and force-fed him an almond cookie, he asked the inevitable question. "Can you tell us what happened, exactly?"

And so he did. In as much detail as he could, he explained that he had been waiting for Katara to come back from the dinner when he smelled something like rotten eggs. But he couldn't find the source of the smell. Apparently, he hadn't been the only person to notice it, because he heard footsteps and yelling. Why would spoiled poultry cause people to evacuate a building?

A flash of recognition crossed Uncle's face at that, but he said nothing.

Zuko had been getting ready to follow the others when he felt the first explosion. He hadn't known where it came from, but he smelled the smoke. He left the apartment then and had started to make his way downstairs when he saw the flames on the floor above him. It wasn't a particularly big fire—easy to extinguish with his bending.

So instead, he ran upstairs. But when he attempted a heat transfer to put out the fire, it didn't work. He tried again—maybe he'd done it wrong. When it didn't work again, he tried slashing through it to block and smother it. There was no change. He tried over and over, but he couldn't do it.

He didn't tell them how much that had scared him.

When Zuko had decided there was nothing he could do and turned to leave, he felt the second explosion—of course, that time he'd been standing in precisely the wrong place. He'd managed to surround himself with his own fire before getting burnt to a crisp, but the left side of his body had been exposed to the blast, and he was launched backward. He didn't know what he landed on, but he hit something hard. The next thing he knew, he was being pulled out a window. There was a lot of yelling and flashing lights. He'd been handed off to the medics when he spotted Katara.

"Sounds like it was a gas leak," said Uncle once Zuko had finished.

"I remember my brother mentioning something like that while we were at the Northern Air Temple. He said that natural gas is flammable. I'm pretty sure he used it against the firebenders that attacked us while we were there," said Katara.

Uncle pursed his lips and nodded. "It's not an entirely uncommon occurrence here. You were very fortunate, Zuko."

He didn't feel particularly lucky but decided not to argue.

Katara spoke again quietly. "Did everyone make it out?"

"Yes." Zuko could say that confidently—he'd checked with the medics.

"That's wonderful news," said Uncle. Zuko offered him a small smile in response. From the corner of his eye, he could see Katara staring at him.

Once they'd cleared away the tea and cookies, Uncle set the living area up as a temporary sleeping arrangement. He laid a mat across the floor, piling it with blankets and pillows. Extras were placed on the futon. Katara made a beeline for the mat on the floor and gave Zuko a look that dared him to just try challenging her when he attempted to object. Resigned—though secretly grateful—he took the futon.

Uncle bid them goodnight with promises that he would do whatever he could to help them get back on track.

Zuko settled into the cushions, and despite his earlier bathtub doze, he could feel sleep tugging behind his eyes. Before it could overtake him completely, he peeked at Katara sprawled on the mat below.

"Thanks for believing me," he whispered.

She didn't reply, but he thought he could see her lips quirk in the dark.

"And I want to hear about the dinner."

"Tomorrow."

Satisfied with her answer, he let sleep claim him.

When he opened his eyes the next morning, Katara was already awake. The sun was high in the sky. His inner fire hadn't woken him up.

She was at the stove, making some kind of doughy concoction in a pan. She turned when Zuko approached. "Pancakes. Your uncle taught me to make them."

He looked around the room. "Where is he?"

Katara's focus was back on her pancakes. "He went out in the hall for a phone call. He didn't want to wake you."

Rubbing his eyes, Zuko plopped into a chair and gave Mushi, perched on the table, a scratch on the ears.

"We should probably talk about your slip-up yesterday," Katara said after a moment, her back still facing him.

"My slip—oh." He had almost forgotten about his—rather, the other Zuko's—moment with Katara's brother. "I don't really know what to say."

"Why do you think it's happened to you twice now but not to me?" She flipped one of the pancakes as she said it. Some of the batter splattered to the floor, only to be swiftly devoured by Mushi.

"I don't know."

"No theories?"

He supposed he hadn't thought much about the 'why' as much as the 'how often'. Would those little incidents become more frequent the longer they were here?

"No."

"I have a couple." She was stacking the pancakes on a small serving platter.

Before either of them could say anything else, the front door opened. Uncle was finished with his call. "Oh, that smells delicious, Katara." He sat down at the other end of the table. "Good morning, Zuko. Sleep well?"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks."

Katara set the platter down along with three plates and forks. Uncle rose to grab a butter dish and a small bottle with some kind of brown liquid inside it from the counter. "Make sure to try it with some butter and maple syrup," he said jovially.

For several minutes the only sound was the scraping of forks on plates. Zuko assumed that Katara had decided to table their conversation for later.

Uncle's phone rang again after a few minutes. He answered it from his seat.

"Hello again."

There was a muffled response from the other end.

He beamed. "Fantastic! I'll let them know."

Zuko looked at Katara, who was watching Uncle with a confused expression that likely mirrored his own. Uncle put the phone down, his grin still in place when he looked between them.

"Good news. I've arranged for you to stay with your mother and sister."

Zuko and Katara simultaneously choked on their pancakes.

AN: Couple of things to note:

PTO = Paid Time Off (in case anyone needed to know)

Citizen is a real app

Thank you so much for all of the kind comments on the last chapter. Those of you who have continuously reviewed: I love you, genuinely. Bit of a transitional update with not as much excitement, but I'd love to hear some thoughts!