He can't seem to keep any food down. From the lunch of the previous day, to the breakfast he has just attempted to eat, everything has come back up in a particularly unpleasant way; considering he had spent three years of his life on a ship, he doubts it is from seasickness.

He silently thanks Agni that no one has noticed yet, despite the fact that he hasn't been vomiting particularly quietly. He wouldn't be surprised if the entirety of the ship's crew despised him, and he'd rather not bring more attention to himself by letting his non-stop vomiting become common knowledge. Besides, he doesn't want to be thought of as only some coddled, privileged prince who pukes as soon as he steps onto a ship - he just hopes he'll be better by tomorrow, because admittedly, he rather misses being able to digest his food.

Yet, just as he thinks this, there is a knock at his door. He pulls himself together the best he can, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and mumbling a quiet come in.

The ship's cook - Ikuro, he thinks his name is - enters, a look of disgust momentarily flashing on his face before he covers it with a more concerned expression. The older man's face looks vaguely familiar, but in his current state, he doesn't dwell on it.

"Prince Zuko - are you okay?"

"Just call me Zuko, please. And yes, I'm fine." He replies, forcing a small smile despite the bile in the back of his throat.

Ikuro glances at the vomit-filled bucket that the Prince is holding, his knuckles white from clutching the sides and his face even paler.

"Are you sure?" He questions, raising an eyebrow expectantly; he is answered by a nod that isn't any more convincing than his previous reply. "There's no shame in illness. I'm not going to ridicule you. Besides, I'm the cook; I'd appreciate knowing if you can't keep my food down."

Zuko sighs, loosening his grip on the bucket and shaking his head. "It's not your cooking. And it's not seasickness either - I don't know what it is."

The older man purses his lips, lost in thought for a few moments before he finally speaks. "If it's not caused by anything physical, maybe it's something psychological. Troubles of the body often reflect troubles of the mind, Prince Zuko."

And suddenly, he's throwing up again, the cook's words reminding him far too much of his uncle, and of his own so-called metamorphosis just a few weeks ago. The reality of his situation, of the consequences of what he did back in Ba Sing Se and of his inability to do the right thing for his uncle, his father, his sister, all seem to crash down on him, all rolling in from the sentence on Ikuro's lips.

The Prince stills, breathing heavily into the bucket and still not looking up at the older man, in the fear that his uncle's eyes are buried within Ikuro's. Still, he gets ahold of himself eventually, forcing himself to meet the cook's stare.

"Sorry," Zuko mumbles, throat still burning slightly.

"Don't be. Is there anything I can do to help?"

He thinks for a moment, slightly unsure of why the elder's concern seems so much more genuine than a simple worker's duty to care for royalty. "Could you get the ship's physician, please?"

"That's a good idea, but this ship doesn't have a physician." Ikuro says, pausing for a moment before deciding to continue. "Your father didn't seem to have much concern for anyone on this ship when he assigned crew - or lack thereof."

The Prince parts his lips far before he's formulated a decent response, or at least one that doesn't sound affected by his father's lack of care. "No, he didn't seem to."

Ikuro is silent for a while, his eyes locked on the younger for a slightly uncomfortable amount of time. Zuko can feel himself being scrutinised, analysed, his features carefully examined to see if, under his hastily applied apathy, there is pain. The feeling makes his throat go dry.

Finally, the cook speaks. "I have a wide assortment of herbs and teas in my cooking space. I'll go and see if there's anything to help settle the stomach - perhaps mint."

The sympathy in the cook's voice stays with Zuko after Ikuro leaves his room, and makes him wonder if he found the pain that he was searching for.

—

In the few moments between waking up and opening her eyes to find a Fire Nation flag hung on the wall across from her, Katara finds herself strangely happy. Her bed is warm, soft, comforting, the once searing pain of all her injuries has softened to dull aching, and it feels like she's gotten more sleep in one night than she has ever since—

It is at this point that her mood diminishes. Since being imprisoned in the Fire Nation, since sleeping on the cold floor of a ship for months, since the image Aang's frail body lying broken in front of her was seared into her mind. She feels a strange sort of disgust with herself, to feel any sort of joy while Aang is dead, gone from this world, his life ripped far too soon from his small, thin bones. The black insignia on the wall seems to protrude from its red background, cutting into her vision; she gets out of bed.

As she walks through the corridors of the ship, she spots Ikuro walking in her direction; as soon as they make eye contact, he gives her a warm smile, speeding up slightly to greet her.

"Good morning, Katara. Did you sleep well?"

She lets herself smile. "Good morning - and yes, I did."

"Good, good. I was just about to make some mint tea, would you like some?"

"Yes, please." She replies. He gestures for her to come down to the kitchen with him, and she gladly follows him.

As the older man lights the stove to boil water, Katara notices how the flames make his auburn eyes appear warmer, softer, unlike the angry sparks she has found in most firebender's stares. He reaches for a small pot of dried leaves that emits a strong, minty scent when opened.

"I was actually going to make jasmine, but Prince Zuko seems to have some sort of stomach bug - can't keep any food down - so I decided on mint. Calms the stomach."

Katara purses her lips, not wanting to profess her utter hatred for Zuko and possibly offend the cook. She responds with a resigned "Mhm," - translated, in her head, to good, he deserves all the stomach bugs he gets (and more) and I hope the tea only makes it worse.

He seems unbothered by her short reply as the water in the teapot begins to boil. Breathing in the aroma of the tea, an idea seems to enter Ikuro's mind.

"Being a waterbender and all, do you have healing powers?"

She raises an eyebrow at the sudden question, but nods nonetheless. "Yes, I do. Why?"

"There isn't a physician on the ship, and I doubt mint tea will help the Prince very much. Is there any way you could try to heal him?"

She feels her lips part in surprise, her attempt at not professing her hatred of Zuko suddenly becoming far more difficult. "I don't heal stomach bugs."

Her voice sounds far too harsh, but she finds that she doesn't quite care. Ikuro, however, notices and frowns. "Have you ever tried?"

"No, but- my healing only works with injuries. Not things like stomach bugs."

Ikuro lets out a chuckle. "Well, there's no harm in trying, is there?" He takes the tea pot off the stove and hands her three tea cups before she can argue otherwise. "Come on, we can drink our tea in Zuko's room."

The smell that fills Zuko's room as they enter is enough to make her wish she had put up a fuss and told Ikuro she hated Zuko and refused to help him. The room is humid and uncomfortably hot, and on the bed sits Zuko, drenched in sweat and unnaturally pale, his hands gripping a bucket on his lap that she'd rather not know the contents of. She gathers that he must be feeling extremely unwell (good - he deserves it), considering he doesn't even realise she's there, and instead attempts a smile at Ikuro and thanks him for the tea.

She crosses her arms, anger swelling in her chest as she observes how nice he is to Ikuro, and how the poor cook has completely fallen for his facade. It is at this moment that Zuko seems to notice her - his eyes widen as she shoots him a glare, and his face disappears into the bucket as he vomits, only his sweat dampened hair visible, and his body shaking violently each time he groans out.

She suddenly doesn't have much of an appetite for her tea. Ikuro shoots her a look of almost desperation, as if pleading with her to heal him; she purses her lips.

The room grows quiet again as Zuko lifts his head, wiping his mouth and looking somewhat humiliated. "Sorry."

She folds her arms across her chest. "Is it contagious?"

She expects him to scowl or snap at her or perhaps throw a fireball in her direction. Instead, he pushes his hair out of his face and avoids eye contact, mumbling a quiet "no.", though there's still a tinge of indignance in his voice. He pauses and he glances up at her again. "Why are you here?"

His voice isn't particularly accusatory but raises her eyebrows, ready to snap at him that she was going to help, actually. Before she can, Ikuro hands the black haired boy a cup of steaming tea. "It's mint." He says. "And Katara is here to try to heal you."

His hands tighten around the tea cup he's been handed and his eyes widen slightly, and Katara knows he's thinking back to the crystal catacombs - how could he not, after talk of Katara healing him? She pushes the memory out of her mind, not wanting to think about it, especially when he's sitting across from her.

Still, Zuko seems uneasy. "Heal... what, exactly?

Ikuro chuckles. "Well, maybe you aren't as sick as I thought, if you've forgotten that your stomach bug needs fixing."

The Prince catches on, and his body visibly relaxes. "Oh - I mean, sure, if she's okay with it-"

Katara lets out a sharp, humourless laugh - she seems to be getting quite good at those, at least when Zuko's around. "Of course I'm not okay with it."

Her eyes follow how his jaw clenches, his voice more aggravated now, "Then why are you here?"

"Because," Ikuro steps in before Katara can reply. "you've been vomiting non-stop since yesterday lunch - and yes, I've been hearing you since then - and there's no use in you being on this ship and leading this mission if you're cooped up in your room throwing up. Katara is the closest thing we have to a physician on this ship," he glances at her, "and she realises that it's in everyone's best interest, including hers, to heal you."

Both teenagers slouch slightly at the cook's explanation, but the waterbender glances at a bowl of water that Ikuro has placed next to the teapot, and decides to get it over with. She scowls pointedly at the Prince and bends the water onto her hands, letting herself enjoy the feeling of her element for a moment, before striding over to Zuko.

She crinkles her nose as she gets closer. "You smell awful."

He seems to grit his teeth, and mutters a sarcastic "thanks."

She narrows her eyes and moves the water near his stomach; he reaches for the hem of his shirt, but she grabs it before he can, pulling it up past his stomach and making him jolt in surprise.

"I can do it." She informs him angrily; it feels stupid as soon as she says it, since being able to lift someone's shirt up a few inches isn't exactly impressive, but she needs something to be angry about, or else she'll get angry about Ba Sing Se, and she'd rather not think about that right now. Not with Ikuro in the room and not with Zuko right in front of her, his body uncomfortably warm like the flames that licked Aang's skin, Aang's dead, cold skin, starkly pale against the ground of the catacombs—

She grits her teeth and places her hands on his stomach, watching as the water glows bright blue, noticing how he stiffens a little at the cold temperature of the water. She glances up and accidentally catches his eye, her attention automatically focussing on the marred flesh that surrounds it, reddish-pink and textured and hideous in a painful looking way. It reminds her far too much of the crystal catacombs, and this time she can't seem to push the thought away because she looks into his eyes, his golden eyes of Fire Nation royalty, and underneath all the tiredness and discomfort, she sees malice and cruelty and blood. She sees fire in his eyes, not like the warmth of Ikuro's, but fire that burns, burns out laughter and trust and life, burns and never stops burning, destroys everything in its path. She pulls away from him, her hands shaking.

"I can't heal him." She says, still staring at him with wide eyes.

Ikuro frowns. "Why-"

"I can't help people who are faking it." She spits out, voice louder and more venomous,

"I'm not faking it." Zuko argues, irritated.

"And why should I believe you?" She snarls, voice far too loud. "Give me one reason why I should trust anything you say to me - go on, I dare you."

She glares at him and fire in his eyes seems to die; it sinks into his skull and guilt replaces it, and she feels sick satisfaction fill her stomach at the way he bows his head in shame.

"That's what I thought." She snaps, bending the water back into the bowl with too much force. She parts her lips before wondering if what she's about to say is too much, but suddenly, the way Aang's bones sounded when they cracked on the floor of the catacombs fills her head and she remembers that if Zuko hadn't gone with his sister, it would've been three against one instead of two against two and they could have beat Azula; remembers that if Zuko hadn't betrayed her, Aang would probably still be alive, and would probably be sitting next to her on Appa right now.

She spits the words out as if they are poison, her voice quieter this time, somehow more dangerous.

"You're a disgrace, y'know that, Zuko? You're absolutely pathetic."

For a split second, she swears she can see him flinch at her words, his face suddenly blank, closed off, his gaze avoiding her own. She blinks, and it's gone; he stares at her with his eyes alight, and she knows she can see the malice, the cruelty, the blood in them, can taste it in the back of her throat. She bends the water back into the bowl with too much force and walks towards the door.

"I never needed you to heal me anyway!" He yells, voice raw with anger.

She looks back at him, making sure he sees the hatred in her eyes, the fire raging behind sapphire blue. "It's a good thing I didn't, then." She snaps, striding out and slamming the door behind her.

She doesn't know if he was referring to the crystal catacombs or now, if she was referring to the crystal catacombs or now. She isn't sure that it matters.

.

She feels the urge to cry as she sits in her bed.

She should be satisfied that she's shown the prince she wants nothing to do with him, should be pleased that she's made him feel guilty for what he did. And he deserves it, La, he deserves all the guilt and shame and self-loathing in the world - but something about the way he flinched, like a wounded animal or a sick child, had made her feel like a monster. She knows that he should flinch when she insults him, should be disgusted with himself when she calls him things that he knows are true; and yet, when those cruel words left her lips, it didn't sound like her own voice. It sounded like the voice of someone full of hatred and bitterness and anger, someone withered and miserable and callous.

Maybe that's who she's becoming. Maybe that's who he deserves to talk to. She feels sick to her stomach either way.

She remembers the first time she said his name; his Uncle had been shot by Azula's lightning, and Zuko held the old man in his arms, called out his name with raw pain in his throat. She had offered to help, reached her hand out, used his name to try to establish some kind of momentary peace. He shot hissing flames in her direction and roared out for her and her friends to leave.

She sighs. Maybe some small part of her had always believed there was good in him, that a heart covered in rot and fury still held love somewhere; believed that if she just showed him kindness, tried to help him, heal him, soften his sparks with cool water, then he would somehow change. Maybe, deep down, she always trusted that he wouldn't hurt her - not really.

The second time she says his name, it's when she calls him a disgrace.

Maybe that's a good thing, if it means that that small part of her that believed in him, trusted him, is gone.

ー

uh.. i'm BACK again hello! i haven't updated for four months but at least that's better then two years i guess? i've been trying to write non-fanfic stuff lately but i have important mock exams coming up so i've been super stressed and studying all winter break, and when i get stressed i start writing fanfic so... voila another chapter.

ANYWAY there's finally been a zuko katara interaction woohoo! Even though katara despises zuko at this point and will keep on despising him for quite a while... that's what you all get for reading a fic that has 'very slow burn' in its description lol. This fic is gonna be real long but I am determined to finish it (one day) so stick with me and my slow updates xoxoxo thank u

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Faves n reviews are greatly appreciated :)