"I don't understand why it's such a big deal! I mean - I'm the Avatar - it makes sense if people want me to come to their events," Aang says, flopping down onto the ground with a huff. He cranes his neck, impatient for some kind of agreement from the figure sitting at the desk. Aang doesn't really like working in chairs, so he does most of his paperwork on the mats on the other end of the room, in the stuffy little Republic City apartment they're keeping for now.

Zuko looks up briefly, a bowl of noodles in his hand. He stays decidedly quiet.

Aang sighs in annoyance. He has a ton of paperwork that needs doing this week, considering the United Republic's first anniversary passed not two days ago, not to mention a bunch of people he needs to meet with over the next few days. He thought attending a few little inaugurations (relatively silly - one, a cabbage shop that seemed absolutely intent on his sponsorship for some reason, like he owed them or something, and the other, introducing a play in Republic City's first official municipal school) would be a nice distraction. Katara seemed pretty content with them so far, so he doesn't know why she's suddenly so grumpy about the Councillor's election party he attended this morning.

"I don't know why she's so annoyed about it," Aang carries on, "people wanna see the Avatar. What's so wrong with that? Yeah, maybe it has been a little hectic on that end this week -"

Zuko coughs a little. Aang's eyes swerve on him.

"Am I being unreasonable?" he asks, suddenly plagued with the idea that he might be, though still, he doesn't really get why. The tone of Zuko's interruption deflates him. Zuko isn't usually so quiet - even when they talk about Katara, who he is a little reluctant to be blunt about given their early history. So this is a little unsettling.

"Zuko? What do you think?" he prompts.

Zuko looks distinctly uncomfortable. He puts his bowl down, chopsticks placed carefully across the rim in proper palace etiquette. "Look at it like this - you've been to a dozen different inaugurations and ceremonies and whatever these past couple of weeks. It makes sense she would want to spend time with you, doesn't it?"

Aang huffs again and picks at the sleeve of his robe. "But we'd just be at a meeting together. That's not even fun."

Yeah, okay - it's starting to dawn on him what Zuko is getting at. They haven't seen much of each other for so long, him and Katara - Aang is busy here in the United Republic, and Katara has her duties down in the Southern Water Tribe. He mumbles, "Everyone wants me everywhere. It's not something I can control."

"I get it, Aang, I really do," Zuko says. "I know how important it is to keep up these things right now. But look at it from her perspective."

Aang cranes his neck up to watch Zuko behind the desk. He's done with his lunch and pulled a formidable stack of thick parchment in front of him. Before Zuko can start on his work and the moment is gone, Aang ventures, "It's not just that. I- I don't want them to feel disappointed by the Avatar. They all ask so nicely."

Zuko doesn't reply to that, only a slight nod of the head from where Aang can see it. Aang isn't affronted or embarrassed by the reaction. He's relieved, actually. It feels good just to say it out loud and maybe with someone else he'd expect some hurried platitudes, but Zuko, he knows, does get it.

He shakes his head, trying to shake off his mood with it. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right, Zuko. I'm gonna go find her. "

"Sure," Zuko says understandingly. Aang leaps up to his feet only to see him make an aborted motion, looking more uncomfortable by the moment. Something is pressing on his tongue. Aang waits patiently.

"Also -"

"What?"

"Nothing," Zuko says quickly.

"What?" Aang demands, feeling his mood lighten now. Zuko looks painfully like he wishes he hadn't said anything. Aang revels in his awkwardness. It never gets old how someone as awkward as this could have once been so fearsome to him. "What's up? Tell me."

"There's - well. She didn't say anything to me," Zuko adjusts his chair and it creaks loudly on the floor. He looks even more uneasy now than the time that he walked in on Aang and Katara making out behind Appa, something which really makes Aang doubt the truth to that statement. "There were a lot of girls there, you know, this morning, they were kind of… well," he coughs again, "when you're the Avatar..."

"Oh," Aang says. Oh. He feels the heat rising quickly in his face and tries as discreetly as he can to cool down, to divert it away. He scratches the back of neck, feeling a little stupid. "Oh. I mean I guess I do enjoy the attention -"

"Aang, you - our only air nomad representative, I might add - skipped a meeting with our newly elected councillors to go," Zuko says emphatically. "I had to deal with that guy who thinks we should reintegrate the City into the Fire Nation by myself."

Embarrassment warms the back of Aang's neck. "I did? Right. It's just one meeting out of a dozen. Sorry, Zuko. I didn't even think about that. I'll be there next time." He laughs nervously, and thumbs to the door. "Katara - gotta go - thanks."

He stops short, one foot out of the door. "You know, you're not half bad at relationship advice."

Zuko half-glares at him from behind his papers. "I didn't say anything that wasn't obvious."

Halfway out of the house, Aang stops in his tracks again. The realisation hits him. He darts back in, poking his head through the door. "Wait, was Katara really jealous?"

Zuko groans and puts his head in his hands. Aang, suddenly hot in the face, takes that as his cue to leave for real. Whew.

It's almost been a month here in the Earth Kingdom, and it's only getting harder to figure out what's going on. Aang knows he should have gotten somewhere by now. Even the meditation itself is more difficult to concentrate on, his focus constantly being pulled in other directions. He thought it was the monsoon rains affecting him at first, but they've pretty much stopped by now and he's still getting nowhere. He hasn't been able to tell anyone as much either, neither Katara nor Zuko or the officials that he's liaising with at Bakai. As far as they're aware, he has made it into the Spirit World a few times - which is true - but they don't know how much work that has actually taken. And he's still nowhere near finding the namazu Spirit - he's been hanging around, asking around the Spirit World itself, but this Spirit seems like it's actually intent on evading him at every opportunity.

The meditation takes a lot out of him. It's something about the air here - it's stiffer, sadder, unwelcoming. Aang isn't surprised about that, but it does take its toll. He hasn't seen Katara in a couple of weeks, their schedules clashing horrendously; whenever Katara's done with her shift, the air is finally calm and cool enough for Aang to start meditating. He managed to catch Zuko briefly a few times, flying out to Daoshu routinely to clear his head, but honestly, he doesn't know if that's doing him more harm than good.

Because - he really can't deny it now - seeing Zuko so much feels weird. The moments they get with each other are brief and unfulfilling, but at the same time, Aang feels like he should be fleeing them. Like he shouldn't be there. Because all he wants to do when he's there is tell him. It's the first time he's been around Zuko this long for years now, and it's so easy to slip back into old habits. Whatever it is they had. Whatever it is in that man that makes Aang feel known, understood in his presence, and of course, the endless glee that fills him whenever he gets to ruffle Zuko's feathers a bit.

It shouldn't make him feel this elated, and it should not make him yearn for so much more than he has already.

What on Earth could he tell Zuko? What could he possibly say, and what would it even achieve? They're good. They are. They already have something far more precious than he could have ever imagined, and no matter how flirty the Fire Lord gets with him (if that's even a thing, and not some cactus juice-level hallucination that Aang's mopey brain is creating for him), that's really all it's going to be.

It doesn't matter. Not in the least because Katara is the start and end of everything, and he can't imagine any of it without her. Which is a different kind of mindlessly wishful daydream.

Ugh.

But he can deal with all of that later. Today, the only thing on the agenda is enjoying himself. It's the Summer Festival in Daoshu - two days of food, dancing and crowds from every corner of the province, at the full moon of the hottest month of the year. Zuko had dropped in their last little chat that the councillors were debating whether to even hold it this year, but he's glad they came to the right conclusion. It's better to keep up traditions. Normalcy. People need it.

He needs it. His only plan is to wander the streets of the Festival with Katara, doing nothing except checking out the sights, and eating whatever smells good.

Aang wanders into the main street pretty early in the morning. It's bright out here - he loves seeing the colours of the flags and the stalls, bright reds, blues and oranges littered amongst a sea of rich emerald green, Daoshu's signature colour. Earth Kingdom festivals are the best. Especially down in the south here, there's a freeness of spirit in the air that nothing in the Fire Nation or Water Tribes match. It reminds him of the air nomad festivals.

He spots a familiar face - the over-enthusiastic site manager from Bakai. "Hey! Akash!" he calls out. "Is Katara here yet?"

Akash almost jumps in shock. "Avatar Aang!" He tries some kind of bow, before Aang hastily stops him with a hand. "She is, I saw her back near the stage," he points in the direction where the music is louder; a fast, repetitive drum beat echoed by probably a hundred performers.

Aang quickly thanks him and makes his way through the crowd. A few people recognise him, and he returns all smiles duly, but no one stops him - it's common knowledge now that the Avatar is around these parts, doing some kind of 'enquiring' with the Spirits.

Aang takes in his surroundings as he searches for Katara. He can't help notice how much his spirits lift looking around at the festival. The crowds are thick, full of painted faces laughing and chatting, and so many screaming children that it makes laughter bubble out of him with the sheer life of it all. This is his duty - to protect this. He makes his way along the wide avenue. The tantalising smells of street foods mingle together in the air, from bustling carts. A painter with a grinning half-done canvas stands surrounded by a dozen other faces (Aang spots a couple of Avatars, the stark blue painted arrows sticking out like a sore thumb against the more muted bumble flies and designs.) A few stalls down, a sculpting class is taking place, crude shapes being forced out of rock by determined mini-earthbenders. The increasing frequency of the vast tapestry-like Daoshu flags hanging down from each lamppost - two little white triangles of mountain surrounded by lush green - tell him that he's nearing the main stage.

He's almost there, wondering idly whether he should get a couple of barbecue sticks for himself and Katara, when a bright-eyed woman catches his eye, her own widening in recognition. She's struggling with a crying child bustling in her arms. She looks alert, a little frenzied, and Aang notices another kid pulling on her skirt, ice cream-sticky fingers making a mess of the fabric. She looks ready to give up.

Ah - it won't hurt. He can't help it. He sidles over, the woman's saucer eyes following him, until he's easing the baby out of her arms, talking nonsense at it and cooing (he's not new to this). Despite her awestruck smile, the woman doesn't let herself be distracted, taking the moment to attend to her other child, wiping the ice cream from between his fingers.

"Oh - !" She says, "Avatar Aang. Thank you - what a pleasure to see you," while the kid repeats the name to himself, in clueless thought.

Aang blinks at the child in his arms, who looks up at him, eyes flitting, no doubt trying to make sense of this tall orange presence, and forgetting to cry in its curiosity. Aang smiles.

Of course it has to be at exactly this moment that Katara slips out of the thickening crowd and spots him. Aang realises, in a weird kind of dismay, that she's leading Zuko behind her by the hand.

Crap.

Katara reaches him, already laughing giddily, but Zuko just raises his eyebrows with an amused smirk.

"Still kissing babies?" he says simply. Katara just laughs harder. She's practically bouncing on her toes, waiting her turn to be able to hug him.

Aang hands the baby back to the mother (with many more kisses to its tiny head, looking pointedly at Zuko who just rolls his eyes with a smile), brushes away her thanks, and sweeps Katara into his arms.

It feels like a lifeline. He breathes in the smell of her hair, and honestly it smells a little like a hospital, but it doesn't matter, because she's here, and the tensions flows out of him like water, her arms squeezing around his shoulders like they're doing so for that express purpose. Katara's hugs say I love you better than anything else in the world can. When they part slightly, her eyes say the same.

"Hi," she says breathlessly. "When did you get here?"

Aang isn't above a brief kiss in the middle of a crowd, and then he answers her questions and asks some more in return. It's crazy how long they've managed to go without seeing each other, despite being in the same city. From the corner of his eye, he can see that Zuko has kind of melded into the background since the hug - not partaking in the conversation. He seems uncertain. It's unlike him.

"Zuko," he says, "what's on your mind?"

"Nothing," Zuko says, observing their surroundings. "Just confirming that the only reason you're here is to feed your ego by getting attention from strangers," he says easily.

Aang smiles winningly at him, despite himself. "Again, Your Fieryness, this isn't the way to deal with your jealousy."

Katara takes his hand, and slips other one back into Zuko's. "Anyone hungry?"

Just like that, Katara and Zuko devolve into a conversation about whether fire flakes or Daoshu's crunchy lentils are better, something so fascinatingly intense that it could almost give Sokka a run for his money. Aang makes them promise to get mango ice afterwards, regardless of the outcome of their debate.

The place is vibrant, and so are his friends. Aang tries not to let the familiar dread of the last few days creep up again. He has more than Spirits on his mind. He doesn't want to be on edge today, but as they walk, he realises there's something almost more miserable about it when they are all together. He shakes his head in an effort to push it to the back of his mind. Because with Katara strolling so easily between the two of them, it's almost easy to imagine that she knows. That she gets it. That she wouldn't care.

By mid-afternoon, it becomes too hot to stay out, the heat seeping into every surface and emanating it back like a fire. Since the regular hangouts in town are closed for the festival today, they find themselves relocated to the government guest quarters of Daoshu where Zuko is staying. The lychee juice has been acquired, the Pai Sho board set (though none of them are really the kind of people that have the patience to sit through a whole game, as they soon remember), and each person caught up on the minutiae of the others' jobs here.

It's clear to Aang now how much they all really needed a break.

By the sound of the birds outside, it's early evening when the conversation slows for a long moment. Aang sinks back, content with the quietness. Katara is poring over Republic City newspapers, strewn on the jute mat with half her limbs sprawled over Aang. Zuko had someone bring them over a few hours ago, when he saw how her eyes had lit up at their mention. Of course, Aang thought. Daoshu, big industry, better communications. The town hall kept foreign papers for their records, while Bakai couldn't. He kind of wishes he had thought of it. But then again, he hasn't managed to keep up with anything himself these last few days.

Zuko, a little further on the mat, seems content to just lay there, soaking up the last rays of the sun coming from the open balcony doors. It must be almost as hot here as it is in the Fire Nation. Or vice versa. Aang's not sure how the seasons work here yet, though someone did try to explain it to him. There's six of them, apparently. Zuko stretches a little, shed of his thin layers of robe so he's just in loose trousers and a tunic. Out of all that garb, he looks alarmingly like he did when they were teenagers; the intense few months at the beginning of the United Republic when he would come back to the apartment at the end of the day, ignore every one of his meek assistants, and just collapse right into a couch.

"What's the news of the day?" Aang says lightly.

Katara shifts against him, her voice lazy. "Oh, the same as usual. A lot about the aid work here." She squints at the paper, which rustles in Aang's ear. "The new bridge almost completed in Republic City. Cabbage company acquiring lots of little shops fast."

Katara gasps suddenly. She sits, up, eyes boring into the paper clutched in her hand. Her hair slips out of its loose hold with the movement.

"What? What happened?" Aang asks. He spares a moment to smooth the leather tie out of her hair and fasten it around his own wrist. His stomach twists with apprehension; the initial news of the earthquake still fresh in his mind.

"It says there's a case for - they're making a case for bloodbending," she says.

At this, even Zuko blinks out of his reverie. "Who is?"

"A few healers - scholars - from the Northern tribe," she says, reading fast. "They want to study whether bloodbending can be used for medical purposes." She blinks, eyes widening. "This could change everything. I can't believe I've never considered - "

Zuko leans up on his elbow, brows furrowed. Aang draws his eyes away from how the movement stretches the fabric over his chest. "Really? You worked so hard to get it outlawed, didn't you?"

Katara looks like she hardly hears him, her eyes scanning the piece again. Finally, she puts it down slowly. "In Republic City, sure. But there isn't any law against it in the North. It's too rare. Wow. I- I have to get more information on this when we get back. This could be huge."

Aang glances at Zuko, who looks equally confused. He says, "But it's so dangerous."

Katara nods, "I know. Of course it is. But I've been thinking about different ways of healing a lot, lately," she glances at Zuko, "and bloodbending is so powerful. There's so many possibilities." She looks a little dazed.

Aang isn't sure what he thinks of this, if he's honest. Katara is normally so vehemently against the notion of bloodbending - but she has that expression on her face now, determined and shrewd, and Aang couldn't bring himself to discourage that even if he wanted to.

Zuko sits up too, now. "Aren't you the only person who can bloodbend?"

"The only person in record," Katara says. "If I supported them, this could gain traction. I know a few healers who are good enough benders to be taught… So it's not implausible." She brings her knees up to her chest, smoothing down the light fabric of her skirt.

Even without healer training, Aang can see plainly how it would be useful: in surgeries, the ones too delicate and precise for even the best tools, probably even to administer medicine. It does make his skin crawl a little to think about it, but he sees her point. It's not that he's against it (hell, he knows what it feels like, he has reckless teenage inquisitiveness and a girlfriend just as curious about bending styles as him, to thank for that). But even then, it feels - felt - like something they shouldn't have done. Something so private it was almost violating.

Katara swirls a long, twirling droplet out of the lychee juice next to her, eyes distant. "I can think of half a dozen patients right here who could have been saved with better…" She blinks and shakes her head. "I haven't done it in a long time - that kind of power, I don't know whether I could. But my comfort isn't as important as saving people..."

Aang could contend that - but he decides not to. This is her process - and Zuko, too, seems to agree because he prompts her with a nod of encouragement.

"If- if you want to try it, you could do it to me," Zuko says suddenly.

"What?" Aang sputters. Does he know what he's saying?

Katara looks at him with the same bewilderment. "What?"

Zuko sits up straighter, "It might… help you figure out how you feel about it." He gives Aang a sidelong glance. "I know you hate the feeling, right? So," he shrugs, like it should be obvious, like it's no big deal for him to be offering himself up for invasive experiments.

Katara looks helplessly at Aang, but he's not sure whether it's to ask for him to step in or to ask for permission. It's a little frightening how Zuko can still think so instrumentally sometimes. Aang doesn't like pondering what could have made him think like that.

Aang breathes out after careful thought. "Go ahead," he says, "If you're sure."

Katara directs Zuko to sit in front of her. From Aang's position lying on the ground, he can see them both half-shrouded in the fading daylight. Katara's body leans against him; a warm weight.

"Uh, okay, just sit still," Katara says, a firm whisper, and though the effect seems to work on Zuko, who straightens up his shoulders, it's lost on Aang, who can see the confidence weighing up in her posture, not faltering but not solid either. "Give me your arm," she says. Zuko does.

Katara pushes up the loose sleeve of Zuko's tunic. His forearm looks pale and long under hers; the scar on his wrist barely visible. Katara furrows her brows and poises her hands.

Aang watches the minuscule movement of her fingers. He watches Zuko's face.

Zuko gives a rough startled breath, his body stiffening.

"Are you okay - ?" Katara says, almost a whisper, her eyes large and face wide open in sympathy even as her arms below are creating a sweeping arc of movement. "Is it - ?"

Aang can't look away from their faces. Wait. He doesn't know why he feels like he should be looking away -

"Yeah," Zuko breathes. "I can feel it." He swallows; Aang can see the tension rise from his chest.

He ventures, "What does it feel like?" His voice is quiet to match theirs. Katara's expression is bolder now, but he finds his gaze drawn back to Zuko's face, and marvels at how freely he lets her do that to him.

"It's weird," Zuko says. "It's- it's inside my body- kind of- it doesn't really hurt or anything, but I can't control -" His eyes draw along his own forearm, chasing the movement. He looks up at Aang for a moment and snatches his gaze away just as quickly.

Aang feels heat creeping up his own neck. He really was staring, wasn't he?

Why on Earth does it feel like he shouldn't be watching this?

Katara is getting more of a hang on it. Aang can only just make out the focus in her eyes, in the slight tilt of her head. It makes him almost shiver a little. She draws her hands up, towards Zuko's shoulder; the movement rolls it back, though Aang can't tell whose movement.

They don't make contact but they don't need to; it's plain to see the care she imbues into each tiny movement, like a caress. If Aang closed his eyes, he could find a thousand other moments where she looked like that, none of them involving Zuko or bloodbending.

After an eternity, she drops her hands slowly. Zuko releases a long breath and Aang with him.

"Okay," Katara says. Her voice sounds parched. She tries a smile that doesn't work. "Good. Thanks. I got it. It's not so bad. I- I'm gonna go get some water." She almost leaps up from between them in her rush to get out of the door.

Zuko looks stupefied. When he notices Aang watching, he clears his throat, adjusting his sleeve. Even if Aang didn't know personally what a strange transgression it felt like, Zuko's whole aura says as much.

Aang knows not to ask about it, but he can't help reaching forward. He drags his hand down Zuko's arm, squeezes his shoulder and stays there.

It's quiet, and Katara's expression lingers in his mind, clinging to his brain like the sweltering heat. Nothing is unsafe right now. It would be so easy to just…

She tiptoes back in. It's dark now, but nobody makes a move to light any lamps. They find other things to converse about, treading softly around random topics.

Katara drops her gaze every time Aang tries to hold it.

Aang wakes to the sound of hawkers and birds at dawn and the blissful scent of fresh morning air. He blinks past the remnants of sleep. Katara is fast asleep on his arm, which is wedged uncomfortably against the floor mat and a cushion. Right - they're in Zuko's guesthouse. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a sharply dressed Zuko stumbling out. There are formalities and events scheduled on the second day of the festival. Zuko's probably going to make some kind of speech.

The second time he wakes up, the room is noticeably warmer. Katara stirs next to him. They dress and leave for the festival, walking down to the main avenue in silence.

Katara speaks first. "Um, last night," she says. "I'm sorry for making it about my - I know we were all there to have a break, but when I saw that in the news, I just couldn't get the idea out of my mind."

"Katara, it's alright," he says, kindly. He knows she's a little unsettled.

They're both avoiding the Fire Lord-shaped elephant in the room. What he desperately wants to know is whether any of it is for the same reasons.

"I think you might be onto something big," Aang continues. He stumbles over it a little, "I think it's -it's good to get out of your comfort zone with healing. This earthquake's made it clearer what the important things really are."

"I can't believe Zuko let me," Katara blurts, unable to hold it in.

Aang swallows. "I can," he says. "I think he'd do anything for you."

Katara draws her brows, a little too indignant. "What do you mean?"

Aang laughs lightly. "He's clearly invested in you figuring all this out," he starts. "And I dunno, it doesn't surprise me that he trusts you so much."

Katara looks down at her feet. "Yeah, you're right. Still, it feels -" She's struggling with the words - not a common occurrence. "I just - it surprised me," she finishes unceremoniously.

"Yeah, I know," Aang says. "But I don't think he'd do that with just anyone."

Okay, he has to say something. This is his chance. There is something going on.

He tries hard to swallow down the nerves. "I kind of think -"

"What?" Katara says sharply, much too quickly.

"Uh, nothing," Aang says. "Nevermind."

Down in the centre of the city, the bustle is just the same as yesterday. Aang leaves Katara engrossed in an apothecary stall to go find the iced mango that they so unfairly forgot about the day before.

It happens quickly. Aang is standing under the shade of a tall clay structure at the edge of the street one moment, craning his head to search for the ice cream stall. In the space it takes to blink, the foundations give a heaving jerk, in a motion Aang feels in every bone in his body, and the whole thing tumbles. A split second later, a hundred thunderous crashes erupt in all directions. Screams fill the air. Aang catches most of the rubble around him on instinct, swerving it out of the way of the crowd.

He steps off the ground, about to shoot into the air to see where his help is needed, looking for the densely crowded main avenue, when a force that feels like the power of a monstrous wave bludgeons into him, knocking him out cold.

The next time he opens his eyes, everything is starkly quiet. Strangely, his body doesn't feel injured from the fall. It doesn't feel like anything. He blearily wonders what he's looking at and watches the vast, black thing in front of him come into focus.

It's a giant, unblinking pupil. Aang jumps up. He's standing nose to nose with an enormous catfish, the size of three main avenues. The namazu Spirit.