For a wonderful friend, Kawaii-lyn. Congratulations on graduating! ♥

TITLE: Surfacing
AUTHOR: RedNovember
CHALLENGE: NONE
WORDCOUNT: Definitely over 100--3000 ish.
BETA'D BY (thank you!): Melodiee
NOTES: Yes I know it's quite a bit longer than a drabble--call it a very short story or a ficlet. I just didn't want to make a separate "story" for a one-chapter 3,000 word thing 'cause that seems like cheating to me. And I like to keep my Stories space organized.

Surfacing

On the outskirts of the tiny village of Tishuan, there lived a water-witch. She'd arrived sometime after the War, and moved into the abandoned hut by the water's edge, off the path that led back to the main road. She made no trouble, coming into the market on occasion only to buy the essentials—a jar of salt, a packet of sugar, some mangoes when they were in season (but never papayas; she hated papayas).

The villagers treated her as they would treat anybody else, but perhaps with a bit more silent respect because rumors were rumors, and there was always a seed of truth in talk, no matter how crazy or unbelievable. The people of Tishuan, who were simple, honest folk, treated the water-witch well, and she treated them kindly in return. When the weather got bad—once, a freak storm during harvest-time—they came out in the aftermath to find their crops undisturbed, the water pooling obediently back into the lake, making a wet track around the fields, as if following an outside command. It was said water from the well at Tishuan tasted sweeter, better than the wine that filled Fire Lord Zuko's goblet in his high palace, and the lake swelled with fish in the summer.

Talk continued though, when the water-witch received special visitors in the summertime. A small patrol of soldiers dressed in conspicuous red armor thundered by the track—the villagers drew in their small children, hid in their houses, although technically it was peacetime, the Avatar's peace, but there was an instinctual fear and finger-clenching anxiety that came with the sight of those red helmets, the snorting rhinos—however, the men of the Fire Nation were turned away at the hut by the slight, blue figure of the inhabitant, her set, firm face shaking an emphatic no.

She refused to say anything to them, reported Shen, the village gossip and washerwoman, She just kept shaking her head until they left! Shocking behavior, acting like that towards a patrol of fully-armed Firebenders, even if the war was over.

She's brave, remarked the innkeeper.

Or just stupid, Shen grumbled, splashing a shirt in her tub.

But she wasn't really either, as most of the villagers knew. There was one more explanation, why the water-witch could stand up so forcefully to the Fire Lord's men and not be punished—she was the Avatar's friend, disappeared at the end of the war along with her brother—

It wasn't until the Fire Lord himself arrived that the people of Tishuan began to think there might have been more truth in those rumors than previously thought.

It was the high peak of summer, buzzing flies and waving stalks of grain. A lone rider on a rhino came lumbering down the main road, causing the children playing hide-and-seek in the berry bushes to squeak in dismay and tumble down the beaten track back towards the village.

Stop bothering, scolded one annoyed mother.

Fire soldiers weren't exactly an anomaly anymore—many had been discharged from the army following the end of the war, and a few wandered the land peacefully, stopping at an occasional village for food and rest before leaving the next morning, usually with a generous tip. They provided good business, these men without homes.

But his helmet! cried the son, his playmates chattering about him in agreement. Under his helmet, Ma—

His helmet what?

Under his helmet, Ma, his face—a scar—

By noontime, a small assembly of nervous villagers had gathered at the head of the trail leading down to the water-witch's hut. The adults felt foolish, huddling behind the trees, but nobody wanted to step out in the open to fully confront this—this—was it really the Fire Lord?

The rhino rumbled to a stop in front of the hut, a brassy, lowing growl coming from its tired mouth—the village children squealed and clutched their mothers' skirts, although they were quite a distance away from the rhino, the Fire Lord (if it was indeed Lord Zuko), and the water-witch.

The man on top of the animal swung down from the saddle, pulling off his helmet slowly—it must have been a horror wearing that thing, in this heat—his ink-black hair emerged, followed by—yes, it was him—a face scarred and scowling.

The children moaned and buried their faces while the adults looked worriedly at each other, what in the world was the Fire Lord doing here, was the water-witch in fact some sort of criminal, were they all in trouble, oh no.

I knew she was no good, Shen said, her calloused fingers wringing her skirts anxiously.

Shut up, scowled one of the farmers. We have her to thank for the year's harvest.

There'll be no harvest at all if she angers Lord Zuko and he ends up burning down everything he can get his hands on!

The audience watched anxiously as the Fire Lord approached the steps of the hut, hesitating for just a moment before knocking on the thin, wooden door.

The villagers could just see it swing open, revealing a curious, tanned face—then slam shut with a sharp crack, startling the birds in the nearby trees.

The Fire Lord looked surprised, before his face resumed its customary scowl and he knocked on the door again, with more force this time.

"Katara!" he called. "Come on, open the door!"

The villagers fluttered amongst themselves—it was her—the Avatar's friend—Master Waterbender, one who'd fought in the War—oh my—indeed—

The door to the hut remained resolutely closed. The Fire Lord banged on it several more times, growling and grumbling, even attempting to force it open with his body once.

"Don't make me burn my way in, Katara!" he finally called, standing back and running a hand through his hair.

"You wouldn't." The slightly muffled reply came from inside.

"Try me."

"Fine, I will."

Lord Zuko placed a flat palm against the thin, dry wood of the door. Almost immediately smoke began to issue from under his fingers, the area around his hand glowing red. At this sight, the village children squealed and the adults patted their heads nervously.

When flames began licking at the wood around the Fire Lord's hand, the door sprang open again, although the villagers still couldn't see the water-witch—what was her name, oh, Katara—and an exasperatedly scolding voice drifted out with the smoke: "Why can't you ever control yourself, Zuko; at this rate you'll end up burning down the entire village—"

The farmers murmured darkly amongst themselves, but before Katara could continue, the Fire Lord had shoved his way inside against her protests ("Hey! You can't do that—hey!") and slammed the singed and still-smoking door behind him.

The villagers and children stood stick-still, looks of confusion (or horror) on their faces.

The door sprang open again, the head of the Fire Lord sticking out to stare directly at them, a terrible scowl on his scarred face. "GET BACK TO WORK!" he roared, before the witch's voice rose from behind him, in the hut: "Zuko, you monster! For the love of all that is holy—leave them alone—"

One of the village children wet his pants as they all raced back to the safety of their homes.

"You better have a good explanation for all this," Katara said tightly, one foot tapping ominously against the wooden planks that made up the floor of her home. Zuko stood in the corner, shaking off dust as he removed the shoulder plates of his armor.

"Blasted thing," Zuko said, throwing the metal to the floor. Looking around, he spied the one chair Katara had in the house and sank down onto it gratefully, the wooden pegs beneath him squeaking in protest.

"Stop ignoring me!"

"Hypocrite," he said easily, tilting his head back to study her with that gaze she always found so disconcerting. "If you hadn't ignored all my messages—I even sent a troop of soldiers out here to deliver a letter to you, but apparently—you being the ungrateful peasant you are—you just kicked them off your porch like you tried to do me."

"You come barging into my house and then proceed to insult me," Katara huffed as if she hadn't heard any of what he had just said, pacing the floor in front of him, "you watch yourself, Mr. High and Mighty Fire Lord—I have an entire lake at my disposal right outside my door."

"In case you haven't noticed, Miss Rude and Ungrateful Water Peasant, we are smack in the middle of an uncommonly hot summer, and," One finger went up to point at the sky through the shingled roof, "the noon sun is straight overhead, which would make me the default winner if any sort of battle did take place."

"Oh, you're so sure of yourself, aren't you?" she said snidely.

He stared back at her without any sort of expression on his face. "Stop acting like a child."

"Stop telling me what to do! That's always been your problem. You—you think you can just order everybody around and everybody'll listen to you, just like that, but—but you can't, you just can't—"

"Aang's wedding is in a week."

Katara froze. Zuko ran his eyes over her face, as if drinking in every emotion he could see there.

She melted, her limbs beginning to move again, her face resuming her previous scowl. "Yeah. I know."

"So you read the letter my messengers brought?"

"Before I ripped it up and burned it to ashes."

"I thought you liked Toph."

" 'Like' is a broad term."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning anything from 'I put up with her' to 'On occasion I want to wring her pathetic little neck, but I manage to control myself most of the time.' "

Zuko raised an eyebrow. "Then let me ask this: aren't you happy for Aang?"

She gritted her teeth. "Yes."

"… really?"

"Yes! Yes I am happy for him!"

When his expression didn't change, she clenched her fists at her side and all but yelled, "OF COURSE I'M HAPPY FOR HIM!"

He backed off. "All right, all right, don't hurt yourself."

Katara paced again, tugged on a bit of her hair, bit the knuckle of her right index finger, and then snapped around to face him. "And before you ask, yes I am jealous. But no, I'm not jealous of Toph, no matter what you might think."

"Call me a skeptic, but I find that increasingly hard to believe." He mimicked her, purposefully raising his voice squeaky-high: "On occasion I want to wring her pathetic little neck—"

"Shut up," she said scathingly. Then she flopped to the ground, back against the wall opposite from him. "I'm jealous," she began, "Of the fact that my best friend is getting married. My best friend, who's two years younger than me! In fact, he's getting married to my other not-so-best friend, who's also significantly younger than me. And my brother! My idiot, good-for-nothing brother, who could never get a date in his life—he got married a year ago, to a wonderful, strong, independent woman warrior—I mean, I love my brother, but really, what were the possibilities of him getting married before me—"

Katara stopped, taking a deep breath. "And I was supposed to marry a powerful bender! Not Toph! She never went through the trouble of visiting a fortune teller, the hard work of getting your palm read—"

Zuko held up a hand. "Wait a minute. I feel like we should be discussing this at a birthday party in front of a warm fire, sipping hot chocolate and giggling every time the word 'penis' is mentioned. I feel like a teenage girl listening to this. Don't you feel like a teenage girl, saying this?"

"I'm a young woman, thank you very much," she glared up at him.

"Oh, yeah," Zuko said, standing up and looking around him in distaste. "And you're really going to get a whole bunch of marriage proposals, hiding out in a nowhere dump like this."

"It's not a 'nowhere dump'", Katara said icily, also getting to her feet. "The people here are very nice."

Zuko scoffed. "Peasants."

"At least they're not egotistical monarchs with megalomaniac god complexes," she shot back.

He walked across the room as if he hadn't heard her, approaching the frail wooden frame of the bed covered by a thin straw mattress. The Fire Lord sat down on the worn blue blanket, an uncertain, indecipherable look on his face as the frame creaked warningly under him.

"You're like a hermit," he said, turning to face her again. "You have no chances out here, aside from the limp collection of farmer boys in that village. Honestly, what kind of high quality, respectable man would drag himself all the way out here just to find you?"

His golden eyes slid away at the last part, and Katara's blue ones widened.

A silence descended upon the cabin.

Zuko worried at a loose thread on the blanket with one finger; Katara continued to stare.

After a few more moments, she cleared her throat, and slowly sat down next to him on the bed, gently enough that nothing squeaked or made a noise.

"He'd have to be off in the head," she said quietly.

"Absolutely deranged," he replied, just as softly.

"Insane," she agreed.

Another minute of nothing.

Then Zuko stood up, rotating his shoulders, still not meeting her gaze. He made a sort of ahem noise in his throat and said, "Come on. Aang wants you there for his wedding. Kept going on about needing another bridesmaid or something."

"Only if I get to pick the dress colors."

"Uh-uh," Zuko said, shaking his head as if all hope had long been lost, "Toph's already done that."

"She's blind."

A pause. "Exactly."

Katara clicked her tongue in sad horror. "I can already tell this wedding's desperately in need of my help."

"Good," Zuko said, heading for the door and shifting into his armor, "Let's go then."

"What?" she squawked. "But I—but I'm not ready—my stuff—"

He stalked back, picking up the one thing other than the bed and the chair in the hut—a large, worn-out blue pack, and he heaved it onto his shoulder, turning for the door again. Then, as if on second thought, he whirled around, yanking the blanket from the mattress, sending a flurry of dust into the sunlit air.

"Anything else?" he said.

"Well—no, but—wait—"

"All right. Come on then." He led the way out the door which had a newly singed black handprint planted in the middle.

Katara closed her gaping mouth and trotted after him, watching as he settled his helmet back on his head. Without another word, he lifted her up by the waist (she held in a shriek) and perched her on top of the rhinoceros. She wavered from side-to-side for a few shaky moments before he leapt on in front of her, her pack and blanket swinging from one armored shoulder. He made a slight sound with his mouth, gently tapping the rhino with his heels, and they began to move at a steady pace. Katara kept her eyes on the lake and the hut which had been her home for these past few months. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a sight of two of the village children flashing away in the bushes. Probably running back to the village to report their sightings.

"And about that fortune teller," Zuko began after a few moments in silence, the gait of the rhinoceros rolling gently beneath them, "don't tell me you actually believe in that kind of thing?"

Katara shrugged slightly before she remembered that he couldn't see her, and probably couldn't feel her through the armor.

"Well," she said, eyes on the tall, waving stalks of grain they were passing by, "that depends."

"Depends on what?"

"Depends on whether or not I find a powerful bender. Preferably male. And good

looking. And rich."

Zuko mumbled, a noise that resounded strangely in his metal helmet.

"What was that?" she asked.

"I said, I'm a powerful bender."

She covered her surprise (and a bit of a warm feeling developing in her chest) by quipping back, "And real modest too."

"And I'm male."

"I sure hope so."

"And seeing as how I'm Fire Lord, I'm probably the richest man on the planet."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, you're going to make me faint."

"And I think I'm justified in saying that I'm not bad looking either." But this last statement wasn't said with the same confidence and arrogance that had accompanied the previous ones, though he tried to hide it. That blasted scar, Katara thought.

"With that monkey helmet you have on, I beg to differ," she said.

He shrugged, shoulders moving up and down. She wished she could see his face. "I'm not really saying anything except—except—" he faltered, and she urged him to keep going, come on, just say it, just say it, "Except, you know, stop moaning about the Avatar because you were never going to get him in the first place anyway."

She said dryly, "Thanks, Zuko."

"I'm just saying there are bigger fish in the ocean. More powerful ones."

"Thanks." This time she meant it. She slipped her arms around his waist, and as they began moving off the beaten path back onto the main road, she slowly rested her head against his back, warm from the sun.

Comments:

-Zuko's desperately OOC, but I consider this an improvement as this is the first thing I've written for the past 4 months.
-Much thanks again to Mel for betaing on such short notice; I'm an ass for giving my betas like 2 hour deadlines and Mel puts up with my overdramatics and moaning and groaning and she's amazing.
-CONGRATS ON GRADUATING LYN.
-Yaay! Writer's Block now beginning to lift. I see hope on the horizon.