"Mai broke up with me," said Zuko one day during a healing session.

Katara let the water fall from her hands and looked at him. "Oh," she said finally, furrowing her brows as she processed his unsolicited statement. "I'm sorry." She pulled the water back over her hands and continued. She focused her mind on the pulsing water, hovering it over Zuko's chest as it began to shimmer with healing energy. "Aang and I broke up last week," Katara offered in response as she moved the water over him.

"How did that go?"

She resisted a shrug as she pressed the healing water onto his wounds. "Okay, I guess." Katara bent the element against his skin, running the energy through his wounds and letting it loosen his chi. "I mean, what can you say about a relationship that felt like it lasted a lifetime? Somehow you thought you were supposed to be together, it doesn't work out, and you're not sure what to feel."

Zuko groaned as the water hit a sore spot. "Empty?" he suggested through gritted teeth. "Like you're suddenly missing half of yourself?"

"Maybe," she murmured absently. Katara was silent as she pressed her hands gently against his skin. Zuko sucked in a breath, but relaxed as the soothing energy circulated throughout his body. Katara watched the sapphire glow absorbing into and rejuvenating his skin. She smiled when she saw the last of the bruises finally lift, and Zuko's pained expression loosened. "Is that it?" he asked after a time.

"For now," she replied, helping him sit upright. "There's still a bit of internal damage. I can feel some blockages."

"So can I," said the firebender, grunting on cue and gripping his abdomen. "It's like there's a dagger stuck in there sometimes."

"Sorry about that. There's nothing else I can do right now," Katara said with a shrug. "We'll have to wait until the full moon. I'll try to unblock the rest of your chi with bloodbending."

He eyed her. "Is that going to hurt?"

"Probably," she responded, stifling a grin.

Katara watched him as he shifted uncomfortably on the lounge, trying to find a sitting position that didn't give him a bolt of pain. She searched her mind for something to lighten the mood. "You know, Aang actually was convinced that you and I were—"

"An item?" Zuko guessed.

"Yeah." Katara started to laugh, recalling its absurdity. "Can you believe that?"

The Fire Lord shared her laughter. "Really? Wow." He smirked as he added, "It took me this long just to get you to stop hating me. Remember when you wanted to kill me?"

Katara gasped emphatically as heat flooded her face. "I never wanted to kill you!" she replied. After a thought, she added sheepishly, "I just wanted to scare you a little bit."

"Well, it worked." He chuckled lightheartedly, perhaps taking joy in her embarrassment. "Good times."

"Has there been any news on the attackers?" Katara asked, abruptly switching the topic.

The jovial look left his scarred face. "No," Zuko replied, seemingly embarrassed. "My agents couldn't find anything or anyone. It's like the group just vanished into thin air."

"They'll be back," the waterbender said grimly.

Zuko stared into the distance. "Tell me about this Hana."

"Hama," Katara corrected. "She was a waterbender from the Southern Water Tribe. Many years ago, she and a bunch of other Southern benders were captured and imprisoned." She paused, watching for Zuko's response as she added, "But she later escaped."

Surprise flickered across his face. "How? Fire Nation prisons are impenetrable."

"Bloodbending." Katara shivered at the thought. "She, uh...she figured out how to bend the liquid—the blood—in the elephant-rats in the prison and manipulate them. Then she used that on the guards." She swallowed against the lump that was forming in her throat. Her memories of that wicked waterbender were fresh in her mind, even nearly three years later. Katara's heart dropped like a stone as she recalled the destructive devices of her element. She gritted her teeth, detesting Hama for corrupting the art of waterbending. "I learned how to bloodbend from her. I thought it was a great resource at first, but after experiencing it for myself..." Katara paused, suddenly feeling a little nauseous at the memory. How she wished she could erase that part of her history, and wished she'd have never learned that corrupted art. "I swore that I would never use it. Fighting people is one thing, but to actually control them like that, to have that kind of power..."

Zuko watched helplessly as Katara grappled with her memories. It was deeply unsettling to see the valiant waterbender in such distress as she recounted the past, and Zuko longed to be able to comfort her. He easily remembered his own near-fatal bloodbending encounter a few weeks back, and remembered watching in horror as Katara bloodbent the murderous Yon Rha some years ago. Katara was a fierce but benevolent spirit, and Zuko knew the dark art of bloodbending went against everything she believed. He could see now the trauma it created in her, could see how much she hated and feared having such a power, and he desperately wished he knew how to take away that pain.

"You know," he said, leaning forward and eyeing the fresh sunlight pouring through the window, "I've been going stir-crazy the last few weeks. Would you want to join me out in the garden?" He looked at her and waited for an answer. Katara met his gaze, but there was a faraway look in her eyes, like her mind was still stuck in her memories. "I bet the turtle-ducks are hungry," added Zuko with a smile.

Katara blinked as she returned to reality. After taking a moment to absorb what Zuko had said, she too smiled. "Yeah, okay. That sounds like a good idea."

It was a beautiful early afternoon. Sunlight splashed onto the clouds smudged against the sapphire sky, and the colourful blossoms set the garden aglow. Zuko delighted in hearing the breaths that escaped Katara's lips as she took in the scene. "Nice, huh?" he prodded.

"It's gorgeous," the waterbender said in awe.

He staggered to the far side of the garden, towards the private park. The front of the gardens were manicured and were the site of many public dealings, but farther behind the palace was a quieter and more natural setting. It was where the Fire Lords and their sages meditated, and where Zuko used to feed the turtle-ducks with his mother and sister (when she was a little less insane). Zuko seldom liked to visit this place because of its history. He hated thinking of his mother and the fate she suffered at the hands of his own father. He hated being his father's son, growing up in the shadow of a tyrant. Zuko often found himself lost in such moments of self-loathing, especially while recuperating from his most recent injuries.

"Zuko, you're not your father," Katara would assure him. "Ozai was a treacherous coward, but you are brave and strong and kind. In spite of everything, you found your own path, you helped end the war, and you're rebuilding an entire nation. And you've made a lot of people proud. You've made me proud."

Katara followed him to the pond and helped him to the ground. Soon she knelt beside him and waited. Slowly a small family of turtle-ducks paddled out, squawking as they ran right up to Zuko. He withdrew a small pouch from his pocket and opened it to reveal a mix of seeds and specially baked bread rolls. He held them out to Katara and offered the first pick. She took a roll, broke off a piece, and gingerly held it out towards the pond. She clicked her tongue to draw the attention of the turtle-ducks, but they were more attracted to Zuko and his mother lode of bread. He spotted a flicker of disappointment in Katara's face, so he broke off a piece of bread and tossed it in front of her.

"What—?" Her question was cut off as a swarm of ducklings rushed her. She was stunned for a second, then burst into laughter as the little creatures gobbled up the bread Zuko had thrown and begged Katara for more. The waterbender surrendered her bread roll, letting it fall from her hand and watching as the ducklings dashed for it.

Zuko smiled to himself as he watched, savoring the sound of Katara's laugh, and the way her face crinkled when she smiled, and the joyous glimmer in her sapphire eyes...

Something within him stirred, and in this moment he realised how truly fond of Katara he had become. Of course, Zuko admired her immensely and was grateful for her aid, but there was something much greater at work. He found himself craving her presence, and when she wasn't near he didn't feel quite the same. They'd spent a great amount of time together lately, talking and reconnecting and filling in what their previously strained acquaintanceship forbade. They shared all of their deepest feelings, regrets, fears, and traumas, shared all the darkest things which had never before been unveiled to another. Katara listened patiently and openly as Zuko unraveled his entire history before her, and he in turn listened to hers. Each was quietly in awe of the other's resolve and their ability to overcome their adversity, and each gained a new respect for the other.

Zuko looked on as Katara played with the turtle-ducks, and he realised how content he was. He had managed to salvage some good moments from his childhood and thought about them often. But now it occurred to him that he was never as happy, genuinely happy, as he was in this moment. Observing the glee in Katara's face, the delicate way she handled the turtle-ducks, her melodic laughter—

And the way she seemed to glow as the sunlight hit her, highlighting the gloss of her chestnut-coloured hair and illuminating her blue Water Tribe dress against the dark red backdrop of the Fire Nation palace—

It all looked perfectly natural, perfectly in place, almost as if this was where she belonged.

Some time passed—Zuko wasn't sure how long it had been—and the Sun hung lower in the sky. They had run out of bread to toss and things to say, and reluctantly decided it was time to head back in. Zuko had a meeting in the morning, he reminded himself, and Katara had to reconvene with Aang and Toph. Katara rose to her feet first, and when she leaned down to offer her arm, Zuko insisted on getting up on his own. He struggled to his feet, forgetting how stiff his muscles still were. Katara turned to lead the way back into the palace. Zuko followed at first, then fell back and hovered near a patch of fire lilies. When she hadn't stopped to check on him, he quickly plucked a flower, hid it behind his back, and caught up to Katara.

When they crossed the threshold into the parlour, his eyes hadn't adjusted from the sunlight. The room was dim, and the outer edges of his vision seemed to glare, but he made out a round figure seated in the parlour.

"Uncle?" asked Zuko as the now familiar figure came into view.

The old man stood and turned, a grin appearing on his face when his nephew neared. "Zuko," he exclaimed, at first opening his arms for an embrace but pulling back as he sized up the young Fire Lord. "You're hurt. What happened to you?"

Zuko exchanged a glance with Katara, hoping she would respond eloquently for him. When she didn't, the firebender said simply, "There was an attack a while back. It's no big deal." He gave a stiff, awkward shrug.

Iroh's face wrinkled with concern. "Why haven't I heard of this?"

Zuko glanced down for a moment, feeling a twinge of guilt for keeping his uncle out of the loop. "We've been trying to keep it quiet. We still haven't found the attackers, and we don't want to stir the public into a frenzy."

The elderly firebender tilted his head as he considered this, and nodded approvingly. "Wise move," he acknowledged before pulling a face and adding, "But you still should have informed me."

"Next time," Zuko said with half a smirk.

"What brings you here now?" asked the young Fire Lord.

"I just came down to make sure everything was okay," replied his uncle, "and to help you with the military meetings."

Zuko gave a dismissive chuckle. "I think I've got it handled, Uncle."

"No, you don't. Who's the general here? You might have thousands of men at your command, but you still don't know what to do with them."

Zuko's cheeks started to redden, and he opened his mouth to argue, but quickly thought better of it. His uncle was right—he was always right. Zuko admitted to himself that he still faltered sometimes in his leadership, and his uncle had more experience than anyone on his staff. He also had to admit that he had not fully recovered from his injuries yet, and wasn't always as sharp as he should be.

Iroh grinned, accepting his nephew's silence as surrender. "We should outline our plans before tomorrow's meeting."

Katara stepped up beside Zuko and said, "I'll leave you alone, then." Before turning away, she she advised gently, "Don't overdo it tomorrow, Zuko—take it easy. Remember to listen to your body. If something hurts or doesn't feel right, let me know and we'll schedule a healing session."

"Thanks, Katara."

She touched his shoulder lightly before disappearing down the hall.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zuko noticed his uncle also watching her leave. When she was gone and Zuko turned back to Iroh, he quickly started to feel warm with embarrassment, especially as a curious, knowing glint trickled into the old man's deep, golden eyes. "What?" Zuko cautiously asked.

Iroh's grin seemed to broaden, and he angled his head peculiarly, but whatever was on his mind was determined to stay there. "Nothing," he answered innocently. "Now, about those outlines. Let's discuss it in the boardroom, shall we?"

Iroh let his nephew lead him into a large, bunker-like room at the end of the left corridor. He had been in the council chambers hundreds of times, and it always took him back to when he was a war general. Iroh had a bittersweet feeling about his history. He was proud of his accomplishments, but ashamed of having been on the wrong side of the war. He deeply regretted his role in the war and all the devastation he contributed, but perhaps what Iroh hated most was that he couldn't see the damage until it affected him. The ruins of the war were none of his concern—they happened outside of his world. But when he lost his son in the fray, his eyes were opened, and Iroh saw then everything that was wrong. He partially blamed himself for the death of his son for many years. If he hadn't gotten so swept up in his loyalty to the Fire Nation, he would have seen the havoc it was creating, he would have tried to stop it, and his son would still be alive.

"Uncle."

Iroh roused from his thoughts and turned to his caller. "Yes, sorry."

"You were thinking about the war again, weren't you?" his nephew asked sympathetically, casting his gaze around the various nostalgic effects in the room.

The elder frowned and gave a single nod. "Yes."

"I do that too," Zuko said somberly. "I wish none of it had ever happened." He raised his eyes to the Fire Nation map mounted on the wall, staring at it defiantly as he added, "Everyone makes mistakes. What matters is how we correct them."

Iroh glanced at him, surprised to have heard that come from the troubled young Fire Lord. He's certainly come a very long way, he thought fondly. "How have you been these last few weeks, nephew?"

"I could be worse," Zuko replied plainly. "If it weren't for Katara, I wouldn't be here at all. She's been amazing," he finished with a soft chuckle.

"You've become good friends, I gather," Iroh ventured lightly, putting a careful emphasis on 'friends.'

"You could say that, yeah."

"Maybe a little bit more, Zuko?"

A trace of alarm flickered across his nephew's face. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Iroh grinned, having already received his answer. "I was watching you in the garden. You seem very happy together."

Zuko's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "We're not together," he said, his voice taking on a defensive inflection. "We're just friends."

Iroh studied him intensely. Zuko had become good at concealing his emotions, but Iroh always knew better. The fresh, rosy tint in his cheeks, a certain gleam in his eyes, and the way the corners of his lips threatened to curve up into a smile, and Iroh knew. "I don't remember the last time I've seen you look so well and happy, Zuko," said the elder, watching as the Fire Lord allowed himself to relax and smile. "When were you planning on giving her that fire lily?"

"Oh." Zuko reached back and pulled the flower from his belt. His eyebrows furrowed sadly when he saw the lily had crumpled a little. "I forgot about it."

"You really like her, Zuko," said Iroh, not even pretending to frame as a question what he could plainly see.

"I think so," the younger firebender responded, turning the fire lily over in his hands. "I never expected this to happen." He sighed. "We've spent our whole lives as enemies. Then I ended up joining the Avatar and trying to prove myself, and she still hated me." As Zuko studied the lily, he bit his lip and laughed weakly. "I remember when all I ever wanted was for her to stop hating me. All I wanted was to redeem myself for her. And when I did, I was over the moon." He looked away from the flower as he added quietly, "Now, all I want is to be closer to her, and I don't know how."

"Have you tried just talking to her?" Iroh asked. "She's a sensitive, intuitive young lady, and talking can work wonders."

His nephew shook his head. "Earlier today, she laughed at the thought of us being together. She thinks it's ridiculous. I could never talk to her about this." Zuko was quiet for a couple of minutes as he played with his thoughts. Then, he looked back up to his uncle with an indiscernible facial expression. Iroh couldn't tell whether he looked giddy or desperate. "I'm not even sure it's real," he said in a lighter tone, sounding almost relieved at this thought. "Maybe I'm just not thinking straight. I have been sick for the last few weeks—"

Iroh frowned as he listened to his nephew try to shove away his feelings. "Zuko, it's not healthy to dismiss something like this. This is the happiest I've ever seen you. I can see it vividly in your face—and in hers. I think she likes you, too, but she may be as afraid as you are."

Zuko kept his eyes fixed on the flower in his hands, and Iroh couldn't tell whether he was listening. Iroh leaned in, trying to get him to meet his eyes. "Talk to her, Zuko."

Finally, his nephew did meet his gaze, and gave a curt nod. "Okay," he said in a small voice. "I will."

Iroh leaned back, content in his victory. He rose to his feet and ambled to a desk against the wall, pulling open a drawer and digging through its papers. He took a few scrolls back to his nephew, and started unraveling them. "Now, about those outlines..."