Home

Wind bit at her face, and for a moment she missed the abandoned hair loops, but only a moment. Her nose stung and she was squinting against the cold, but she didn't raise her hood. She wanted to see everything.

The boat docked. That in itself was something of a feat. The captain was an exceptional navigator, and the winds had been on their side the whole journey. That was not so surprising. What was surprising was that there was actually a harbour for them to dock at. That was new. And she knew it was only the beginning.

An arm draped about her shoulder and squeezed gently. She stiffened, and did not turn to face him. He too had eyes only for the budding metropolis that spread before them.

It was still a peasant village when compared to the Fire Nation capitol, but in six months it had changed beyond recognition. Houses dotted a main street that opened out into a marketplace. Across the market square was a glittering fountain and behind that, towering in the distance, was a village meeting hall.

She could see it all with one sweep of her eye from where their boat nestled in the harbour, and yet she knew that somehow she had missed everything important.

'We're home.' Her brother spoke finally, his arm dropping from her shoulder.

'Yes.' Her voice was only just warmer than the air that bit their faces. His words brought back the memories, unbidden, of many painful arguments. The things he had said to her in the heat of the moment would not be easily forgotten.

'Home is where we belong.' She repeated his words back to him, as soft as he had said them loud, devoid of emotion as his had been full of rage. He reached out for her shoulder once more. She turned away and headed down the gangplank to meet her family.

There were countless hugs, kisses and embraces. It seemed the entire village and more had turned out to welcome them back. No, Katara had to remind herself. This group of women and children she knew all too well were not the entire village any more. Their family had grown.

At last, released from a stiff hug by Master Pakku, she glanced around. She had been right. Men she did not know were flitting about the docks, unloading Fire Nation spoils from the ship. Exuberant chatter filled the air as children glimpsed exotics they had never dreamed existed and men grumbled at the arrogance of the Fire Nation's charity.

Women she did not know hugged infants against them, their curious stares averting when she looked their way. There were babies in the village. There had not been a baby born in the village since before the men left for war. She had not been here to see them delivered. She didn't even know their mothers.

'Come on! Quickly! There is so much you must see before the celebration feast.'

'Aw Gran-Gran,' Sokka said from behind her. 'You didn't have to go throwing a feast just for us.' Many in the crowd didn't bother to hide their laughter.

'It's not for you. The Avatar has come to visit. Is that not cause to celebrate?' Sokka's face fell.

'Right. The Avatar. Of course.' He muttered.

As if on cue, a shadow passed over them and Appa mewled. Before anyone could blink, Aang had dropped out of the sky next to them, leaving Appa to land on a nearby hill. Toph, still onboard, cursed his abandoning her at the top of her lungs.

'Hi!' Ever cheerful, he grinned at the crowd. Many of the children who remembered him looked on with a mix of shyness and awe. Many who didn't giggled as he began toying with a puff of icy air.

Katara smiled, and was surprised she had to force it. What was wrong with her? She should be happy to be home.

Home was where she belonged.

They were given a whirlwind tour of the town, from their father's house to the healing huts, to the market to the main street. Finally, the gaggle of townsfolk following them the whole way, they were led up to the meeting hall for the feast. The whole town had really turned out this time, and Katara was shocked to see so many unfamiliar faces. She was even more shocked to realise that some of those unfamiliar faces were simply faces of people she knew, changed beyond recognition by the things they had endured.

Did she look like a stranger to them?

They were seated at the table of honour, so why did she feel uncomfortable with so many eyes on her? She thought she had been used to it by now. Stares had followed her cinnamon skin and chocolate hair everywhere in the Fire Nation, and those stares had been waiting to devour her. At least these were her people. So why would they not meet her gaze?

Sokka was chatting animatedly with several other young men. Katara had no trouble smiling this time. It had been too long since Sokka had had water tribe boys his own age to converse with. Aang and Toph were entertaining an enthralled group of children, and Katara caught more than one or two adults surreptitiously watching the bending display.

Many of these people, she had forgotten, had never seen anything but fire bend. Her own meagre efforts before she left the tribe did not count.

'Hey! Katara!' A young woman beckoned her over. Not one to be left out, Katara spared a glance for her friends, before heading over to the group of women. A few of them she recognised as girlhood friends slightly older than her. Others she didn't. They must be from the Northern Tribe.

'So, what's it like?' was the first question thrown her way.

'What's what like?' Katara prepared herself for the onslaught of questions, and wondered idly where to begin. How did one begin to describe the world to a group of women whose worlds were all ice? Even if some of them had moved from one ice city to another.

'What's it like being back home?' Katara tried hard not to feel disappointed.

'What do you think of the town? I'm sure it's nothing compared to the Northern Water Tribe, but you've got to admit, it's impressive for six months work, right?'

'Yeah,' Katara smiled. 'It's a definite improvement on tents and Sokka's watch tower.'

'I heard that!'

'We're hoping to build a water temple next, to celebrate bending and the spirit of the Avatar,' Katara nodded. 'But the men say they need more benders. You should speak to Tupeq about it.'

'Tupeq?' she did not recognise the name.

'Tiriaq's father. He's in charge of architecture,' Katara glanced at the girl indicated. She looked almost pale next to the bronzed girls Katara recognised. But then Yue had seemed pale to her too.

'Tupeq came with Master Pakku from the Northern Water Tribe,' another girl was saying. 'Tiriaq came too. She got engaged to Aputuk last week. Isn't that exciting?'

Katara knew Aputuk. He had been the youngest warrior before Sokka, and had only just been old enough to go to the front. He had been a good friend of Sokka's. Katara glanced at Tiriaq again.

She was younger than Katara by a year at least. She reminded Katara a lot of Yue, but then that was probably just because Katara knew they were both from the North. The sparkle of a betrothal necklace caught her eye.

The girls – no, women – had moved on to chat about something else. Katara wasn't sure what. Her gaze swept the group. A dozen or so blue gemstones gleamed back at her on blue ribbon chokers. Unconsciously, her own thumb rose to caress her necklace. She was most probably the only woman – no, girl – her age not married. She wasn't bothered by it. But she was bothered by the fact that she wasn't bothered by it.

Katara excused herself and made her way over to Aang and Toph. They were still entertaining an ever-growing crowd. Someone called out for Katara to perform, but she declined. She did not need the fact that she was the only female warrior in the room emphasised more than it already was. Several of the men were watching her surreptitiously, almost as though she were a threat. Neither her father nor Sokka seemed to have noticed.

The celebrations ran late, taking advantage of the long summer daylight. But Katara retired early. She was tired, she said, and had missed sleeping on furs. Her grandmother led her back to their house and showed her to her bedroom. She was almost too exhausted to relish having her own personal sleeping space.

But she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned and poked at the fire but the room would never be warm enough. Eventually she gave up and let it die down, unwilling to look at the flames anymore.

Her family returned when dark eventually fell, and did not trouble to keep the noise down. It hardly mattered. She wasn't asleep. She had been thinking about her evening.

She wondered when betrothal gems had become so prevalent. When she had inherited her mother's, it had not mattered that she wore it everywhere. So seldom was a betrothal necklace given in the Southern Water Tribe, that there was absolutely no risk of anyone mistaking her for a married woman. Men were too busy providing, trying to survive, to spend time carving trinkets.

She knew that long ago, before the war, the Southern Tribe had been just as strict as the Northern, with social strata and arranged marriages to boot. But that had all fallen apart once the Fire Nation decimated their culture. There was just no point arranging political marriages when everyone was finding it equally difficult just to survive.

Katara had heard her fair share of romantic tales as a girl, of men who had come home from war after months of absence and proposed to their sweethearts. Or of women who had waited years in order to marry the men they loved.

Romantic marriages had fallen by the wayside after the most recent Fire Nation assault. With their tribe numbers under sixty, available women married available men and had children as soon as possible. There was no question of politics or love. Marriageable age gave way to child bearing age as their numbers dwindled further. No wonder Zuko had thought them savages when he first came upon them. All their cultural heritage had vanished.

She brushed that thought aside. She didn't want to think about him or men in general or marriage or children. She had been too young when the men had left for war, and after that it had seemed out of the question. So instead she had chosen the path of a warrior woman, and she would stick to that path. She had no regrets.

'It's not the same, is it?' Sokka's voice broke in on her thoughts. She rolled over and stared at him. He was leaning against the doorjamb of her room, his arms folded. He wasn't looking at her.

'No.' She rolled over once more, her back to him.

'It'll get better though,' she did not know whether she smiled at his optimism or her own bitterness. 'Give it time. It'll get better.'

'For you maybe. You belong here.'

'So do you. You're Water Tribe. You'll always belong here.'

'Home is where I belong,' she could almost hear the hitch in his breath as she repeated the words once more. She closed her eyes. 'I don't belong here anymore.'

She had left her home behind.

-x-

'I do not have time for all this pointless bickering!' Flames roared before him, and somewhere he felt a twinge of satisfaction as the noblemen before him cringed.

'That will be all for today!' He spat. They stared, their power plays of moments before forgotten. Then, one by one, they rose and left the audience chamber. The flames settled down and Zuko massaged his face with one hand. Someone chuckled off to his right.

'What's so funny?' He rose and descended from the throne, glaring at his Uncle.

'Oh nothing. I just thought you would have been pleased to have so many men vying for your favour.'

'It's not funny Uncle. The Fire Nation will never recover from one hundred years war if those men can't think of anything but their delusions of influence over me'

'On the contrary, Fire Lord. They appear to have considerable influence over your mood.'

Zuko growled and had to bite his tongue to stop himself breathing fire onto a priceless antique tapestry. He stalked down the hall, away from his Uncle.

'Where are you going?'

'To my chambers! I need rest.'

'You have a dinner appointment at sundown.' Another growl.

'Please tell me it isn't with one of the men I just insulted.'

'As you wish Fire Lord: It is not with one of the men you just insulted.'

'Don't humour me! Who is it?'

'Dong Mobao and most probably his family.' Zuko groaned.

'He'll spend the entire time trying to point out how well endowed his daughter is without outright saying it!'

'You do not know that.'

'Yes I do. It's the only thing that ever comes out of his mouth! Never mind that he actually dares to cut the girl off whenever I address her directly. Although I'm not surprised. She looks like she's never had to work or fight for anything, let alone think for herself.'

'She is a noble woman Fire Lord. It is not her place to work or fight.'

Zuko scowled. Not at what was actually said, but what was deliberately left unsaid.

'When did it get like this Uncle? I was only gone three years. I come back and the ruling class are fighting amongst themselves instead of actually ruling.'

'I am surprised you need to ask such a question. But if you still desire an answer, some would say it has always been like this and you were simply too young to notice.'

Another snarl, and he found himself at the end of the corridor. He went left, all too sharply, bashing his shoulder as he did so. He did not allow the luxury of a wince.

'Fire Lord Zuko, where are you going?'

'To my chambers!' he had said that already, hadn't he?

'Your chambers are this way.' Zuko hesitated only long enough to throw a glance over his shoulder. His Uncle was pointing down the right passage.

'To the turtle duck pond!' He shouted just as vehemently, and continued walking. He was eternally grateful his Uncle did not follow. He did not need the old man chuckling at the faint red tinge on his cheeks.

It was the third time he'd taken a wrong turn that week. Once he had been late for a council audience because he had somehow ended up in the kitchens. It had not mattered seeing as the Fire Lord was never late. Everyone else was simply early. But that did not stop it from irking Zuko. A Fire Lord should never get lost in his own palace. He had grown up here! How could it have possibly changed so much in the whole three years that he had been gone?

But change it had. His frequent unintentional detours were only the beginning.

He sat on the edge of the pond, cross legged. The gardens had been impeccably tended during his absence, and yet somehow he knew nobody had come here in the three years he had been away. He had come here at the first free moment, and found it a vision of perfection.

And yet it was a lifeless vision.

It had been his mother's favourite place. Nobody but he had come here since she disappeared. It was this place that had come to mind whenever he was taken by homesickness. It was this place that had symbolised everything he missed about home.

And when he found it in full summer bloom, yet inexplicably dead to him, he had known what he did not want to know.

He had fought for three long years to return home. He had struggled and bled and sweated the way he always had done. And finally, almost at the cost of everything he was, he had managed it. Only to find the place he returned to was not the place he had left. It had changed without him, or he without it. He wasn't sure which, and he was certain he did not wish to know.

He flopped back on the perfect lawn and stared angrily at the sky. Rain clouds hung low. He would get wet if he stayed out too long. A turtle duck quacked at his foot. He ignored it. The next instant there was more quacking and a splash. Water cascaded over his face in heavy drops and he snarled, sitting up sharply.

He glared at the water, registering too late that there had been no intention behind the watery assault. Only his reflection glared back at him. And he could not deny his disappointment.

He got up and headed for his rooms. He had to get ready for dinner.

It was a disaster. It was just as he had said. Despite the fact that the dinner itself was in lieu of an audience at a more appropriate time (schedules had not been permitting), Dong Mobao's entire family were present. Zuko was not surprised. Dong himself seemed to have no interest in discussing machinery and metalwork exports as Zuko had intended, and instead alternated between flattering Zuko and flattering his own daughter. Dong's wife giggled every time Zuko opened his mouth and the daughter in question said nothing, even when Zuko directed questions at her. If she was able, she would answer with a smile and a nod. If not, Dong would cut in.

Her father was not wrong to be proud. As he painstakingly pointed out, her skin was alabaster perfection. Her hair was darker and silkier than the black silk napkins that adorned the table, and her gold jewellery complimented her just as well as the napkins' trim. Zuko could not restrain a smile at the look on her parents' faces should they realise he was comparing their little china doll to a table napkin.

She was like his garden, he suddenly realised. Kept in a state of perfection while he fought his way back here, she was everything she should be, and just as he had remembered women of the Fire Nation. But somehow, now that she was within his grasp, her beauty was dead to him.

And he suddenly could not stand the sight of her.

'You'll excuse me.' he stood suddenly, cutting Dong off in his attempt to draw Zuko's attention to the large heirloom brooch which was dragging the neckline of his daughter's robe down almost tastelessly low.

'I have an urgent diplomatic matter to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your dinner.' They had all stood when he did, and he left the room. Moments later, his Uncle was at his elbow.

'Zuko!' No Fire Lord, no nephew. His Uncle must be angry. 'What are you doing? You will not make friends in the court by abandoning your engagements.'

'Don't talk to me about engagements! That's about the only thing Dong hasn't explicitly implied tonight!' Zuko hissed back. He stopped dead and glared as his Uncle chuckled.

'This is not funny!' Zuko snarled.

'Zuko, what is the matter with you?' The laughter had gone from his voice.

'There's nothing wrong with me!'

'You have not been this angry since…' It seemed his Uncle had figured out what was wrong with him.

'I fight for three years for my honour, for my throne, for the right to call all of this,' he gestured at the same tapestry he had almost fried earlier that day. 'Mine again. And now I have it. I wanted to go home, and now I have! Why am I not satisfied?'

He had not directed the question at his Uncle. He did not want his Uncle's wisdom. But the man would give it anyway.

'Home is where you belong.' Iroh said cryptically. Zuko narrowed his eyes.

'Are you implying that I don't belong here?' his voice was so soft, but his Uncle stood his ground.

'It is just a proverb Fire Lord. Are you implying that this is no longer your home?'

Too late Zuko realised that he had implied just that. His face twisted into a scowl, his anger turning inward. With a yell of frustration he stormed passed his Uncle.

'I have no time for your cryptic proverbs!'

For two hours he stormed about his rooms snatching things and dumping them about with little care for their well being. He did not want to think about any of it, and yet it would not be quelled any longer.

He had been angry, certainly. Angry that the water tribe boy would come between him and what he desired even after the war had ended. But he had understood. He knew all too well what it was like to wander without a home. He knew what it was like to miss the place of your birth, to feel that everywhere you went you were intruding, so obviously out of place by your very appearance. He would not be the one to force that pain upon her. And so he had let her go.

He had watched her sail away and he had done nothing to stop her. He hadn't known then that she was taking so much with her.

There was a knock at the door. He bid them enter. His Uncle stood in the doorway and stared at his hastily packed bag.

'Going somewhere?'

'Ready my ship.'

'As you wish, Fire Lord Zuko.'

-x-

They saw one another, as they so often had done, at a distance. He saw a hairy monster in a blue sea above him. She saw a metal monstrosity in the reflected blue below.

They met halfway, as they had been forced to do so often. The bison landed on the deck of the ship and she was off its back in moments. She did not run. Neither did he. Now that push came to shove, both were too proud to admit the reason for their being there.

'How…' he had to work very hard not to stutter. 'Was your home?' genuine concern, both for her and for the state of the village he had once terrorised, leaked through his regal air.

'I never got there.' She replied, and both could not help feeling they had misunderstood the other entirely. But it didn't matter because the next instance they were in one another's arms and everything was alright. No kisses or words were exchanged. There would be time for that later. In that moment they were just content to belong in the comfort of the other's embrace. Home.

---

AN: Inspired first by the notion that Katara and Zuko are alike in that their involvement in the war means that by the time they can return home, it probably won't be home anymore. I decided the idea was stupid though, until the pastor at my church spoke on home and belonging the very same day I thought of this idea. I'm not one for supernatural stuff, but I figured that was a sign if ever there was one.