Somewhere, I wonder, somewhere, on the other side of this suffering and pain, there must be a land of joy and happiness. Maybe on the other side of the moon. For so much time the moon's light was the only company in my loneliness.
Now things have changed. He loves me, and his love is all that keeps me alive, more than the medicines they constantly give me, more than the nutritive IVs they connect to my arms, because I can no longer swallow.
He knows, and he will not tell me what he knows. Tonight the moonlight illuminates a sparkle in his eye which I unmistakably recognize, after having that same sparkle in my eye so many times. Silently, I beg him not to shed a tear. I realize, somehow, with that strange extrasensory perception one acquires after numerous encounters with death and countless more thoughts on it, that the moment I see a tear drop from his eye then I too will begin to cry. And I will choke, and then I will die. And he knows it too, he can read it from my mind with that ability particular to those who truly love each other.
I will not die with tears in my eyes.
He tells me: You will not die.
And then he smiles, the sparkle is gone, he squeezes my hand, and brushes my fingers over cool metal on his finger.
You will not die.
Katara did not know what shocked her the most about the person who had opened the door for her and her grandmother. She did not even know where to begin. Was it that he looked hardly older than Sokka? Or was it the shock of unruly, un-doctor-like black hair falling artlessly onto his forehead? No, it must be the scar: the mark which flamed across a third of his face, permanently narrowing one gold eye, consuming his ear. She knew it was silly, but Katara felt that the scar made him fearsome, despite his youth.
Kanna had scanned him up and down as well. Once more, she harrumphed.
The doctor opened the door wider to let them come in. "My uncle paged me to tell me you were coming," he said, taking his seat behind the desk. Noting the puzzled looks on the two women's faces, Zuko sighed. "My uncle, Dr. Iroh. From ER."
"You look hardly older than my granddaughter here, young man," Kanna said, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She examined the medical college certificates on the wall, impressive cream-colored giants with officious black calligraphy and a large red seal. Zuko quailed slightly under the formidable lady's scrutiny.
"I'll have to have a talk with Uncle later," he muttered to himself, "about referring every other person who walks in the door, to me." Ignoring Kanna's comment, he said, louder, "Why did Dr. Iroh send you up here?"
Kanna glanced at her politely smiling granddaughter, at her youth and vitality. She said, "Katara had fallen on her head. We got these scans." She handed the envelope slowly over to the young doctor. She did not want Katara to be in the room while Dr. Zuko examined the images. Kanna had an uneasy premonition in the pit of her stomach that something was seriously wrong, but she tried to convince herself it was only her elderly self being overly superstitious.
"I told my grandmother it's nothing," Katara put in, her chin tingling from anesthesia.
Zuko snorted as he put up the images on his illuminated board and flipped the switch. "You're not very graceful," he commented somewhat absently, examining the images.
Katara's polite smile immediately snapped. She was so shocked that this doctor had such poor manners that he insulted his patient that words failed her. Before she fully recovered herself Zuko brought his chair from behind the desk and came to sit right in front of the two women.
"Follow what I tell you to do," he said shortly. Katara nodded and he continued, "Stretch out your left arm all the way to the side, then bring it back to touch your nose, and back out to the side. As fast as you can."
Katara didn't see the point of the exercise, but she shot him a glare, his previous comment still unforgiven, and performed the maneuver. Zuko observed her and wrote some notes on his clipboard. She did the task fairly rapidly and touched the center of her nose almost all the time. Once or twice she missed by the barest centimeter either left or right, and once she hit her nose a little too hard. He made her repeat the exercise with her right hand and achieved similar results.
Iroh had been lecturing Zuko lately on his lack of sensitivity in seeing patients, so Zuko gave the two his best smile—which still ended up strange and grimacing. "I'll call you when I've finished analyzing these," he said, indicating the images still on the board. He opened the door for them and Katara followed her grnadmother out, her back stiff.
"Gran-gran, that was not a very nice doctor," she declared the moment they were in the elevator.
Kanna nodded her agreement. "Gran-gran, really, I'm okay," Katara said, affectionately taking her grandmother's face between her own hands when the older woman said nothing. "It was just a small scrape. Really. And you know Dr. Iroh said there wouldn't be a scar."
"I know, dear, but I'm an old woman, and we worry," said Kanna, smiling back at Katara. She desperately hoped that her fears were nothing more than a grandmother's overly concerned fancy, but she had had many years of experience. And intuition generally was right.
…
A few days later, the phone rang while Kanna was making dinner. Both Sokka and Katara were still at school so she turned the heat low on the stove and picked up the insistently ringing device.
"Hello," said a familiar young man's tenor. "I'm Dr. Zuko, from Ho Miu Ling Hospital."
"Yes, I remember," Kanna said warily, her heart speeding up. Anxiety made her stand up straighter and press the phone hard to her ear.
"I've reviewed her test results," he said shortly. Kanna couldn't tell from his voice what his next words would be; he was almost emotionless, almost apathetic, and it irrationally irritated her. "I think you had better come in today."
That was all, and the phone line buzzed dead in her hands as she realized that the doctor had hung up even before she had said anything.
She finished cooking as quickly as she could, haphazardly adding spices and ingredients and not tasting anything, nor really caring if anything became burnt. Her mind blocked everything except one thought: that of Katara, of her smile, and her smarts, and her similarities to both her parents. Kanna missed both Hakoda and her daughter-in-law every day, and her heart ached to think of how proud they would be of their daughter.
By the time she had hurried to the hospital the sun was just barely starting to set, despite the early hour, and there was a chill nip in the air. Wintertime, I can feel it in my bones…literally, Kanna thought ruefully to herself. The sterile, fluorescent interior of the hospital felt colder than the atmosphere outside, despite the hallways being full of doctors, nurses, technicians dressed in blue, red, and green scrubs and gowned patients wheeled on gurneys from room to room.
Kanna knocked on the plain door of Dr. Zuko's office and it opened after a few moments. Papers filled with a scribbling, small hand lined his desk and a stack of manila folders sat on another chair next to his own.
"Here," Dr. Zuko said shortly, without preamble, lighting up his display board. On it were the brain scans Dr. Iroh had previously shown Kanna and she peered at them near-sightedly. The doctor tapped on two pictures, one each from the normal brain and one from Katara's. "You can see how the normal brain stem is more active than your granddaughter's. That, and the symptoms you have described—the loss of appetite, the clumsiness—mean spinocerebellar ataxia."
"Spinocerebellar ataxia," Kanna repeated slowly, looking intently at Dr. Zuko. "Those are big words, doctor."
The young man sprawled into his chair. His light brown eyes were heavy lidded from exhaustion. He'd been on call for fifty-two hours and explaining diseases no one really understood, even in the medical community, to an old woman was not high on his list of fun activities he enjoyed. Which, admittedly, were quite few but that was besides the point. "It's rare. Neurological degeneration." He sighed, Kanna's sharp glance not missing anything. "She's losing function in her brain stem, which controls involuntary and voluntary movement. You'll notice that her clumsiness becomes worse…she'll miss things when she's going to pick them up, her aim will be totally off. The first thing she will lose is her ability to walk freely. Eventually she will no longer be able to speak, write, or even swallow."
"Tell me that she will live," Kanna said in a low voice, repressing the strange tingle in her eyes.
Here, even Zuko paused. He was tired, and usually never cared too much for his patients, but telling an elderly lady that her granddaughter was very sick stirred something even in him. He rubbed his eyes and sat up a little straighter. "The disease progresses differently for everyone," he said. "She has anywhere from two years to ten years."
"Ten years," said Kanna softly. "Ten years. She'll die at the grand old age of twenty-nine. Now tell me that there is a cure."
Zuko knew from the way that Kanna said her last sentence that even she knew there was none. "There is no cure. Or any documented case of recovery," he said.
Kanna was silent for some time, although she felt like crying, which she hadn't done since Hakoda had died. "But please…I don't want to tell Katara yet," she said. "I want her to enjoy her time while she can. We'll tell her later."
The doctor nodded. "It's completely up to you," he said. "She's your granddaughter. But she should be coming back for check ups every two weeks or so. I'll have a better idea of her prognosis by then. In the meantime," he said, scrawling something on a pad of paper, "get this prescription filled. Twice a day with food. It will help with the clumsiness."
The older woman stood up and carefully put on her coat. She gave a curt nod to the doctor and left the office slowly, ponderously making each step down the stairs. Walking, moving, breathing…it was all so natural, something not to be thought of, and yet how could such a basic part of Katara just be taken away like that?
She bumped into Dr. Iroh in the lobby. "Ah, it is good to see you again," he said warmly, bowing to her.
Kanna looked at him, and Dr. Iroh must have seen something in those aged eyes, because he placed an arm on her shoulder and led her to the chairs in the waiting room. "Why don't you sit down, and talk for some time," he suggested gently. "And also I know the perfect thing for this—some nice, hot tea."
"Tea would be nice," Kanna admitted. She was a tough old woman, and normally would have harrumphed Iroh's generous efforts, but all Kanna wanted to do right now was, in fact, drink down that steaming cup of tea which Iroh was bringing over right now.
She sipped the scalding refreshment, and felt it burn her tongue a bit. Iroh chuckled softly. "You might want to wait for it to cool down," he advised, his tone light and joking. "Tea loses its true charm when it is too cold, yet when cooled down a bit I feel as though the flavors have had a proper time to really infuse."
Kanna gave her companion an incredulous stare. "You spend a lot of time thinking about tea, don't you," she commented.
"I find tea to be the best of friends…comforting, always there for you, and asks for nothing in return," Iroh said seriously. "But we should not talk of tea when I mean to ask you about your lovely granddaughter. Is her cut healing up nicely?"
Kanna nodded. "You're right," she said, "there is not any scarring." She paused a moment, then went on. "I…we got the results of Katara's tests back."
"And?" Iroh prompted gently.
"He said—he said it was spinocerebellar ataxia." Here Kanna took a hasty sip of tea, hot though it still was, so she might have some excuse for the unnatural shine in her eyes.
Iroh took her hand. "That is an unfortunate diagnosis," he said sadly, shaking his head. "It is not even understood amongst us doctors. But I do not see your granddaughter with you."
"I don't want her to know…yet," Kanna said. "I don't want to give her the burden of this disease. She's barely nineteen, doctor! She's hardly had a chance to live. She's so bright. She has so much in front of her."
"I know Katara is very strong," said Iroh. "But do not keep this from her for too long. She is also a very smart girl and she will figure it out."
Kanna nodded and gave a small smile. "She is quite smart. But just…not yet. I'll tell her later, after…. For now…" she vaguely waved the script that Dr. Zuko had given her. I just want her to live a normal life. Like every nineteen year old girl should. I want her to worry about boys, about her exams, about what to wear in the morning, about how Sokka teases her. For now I don't want her to think about this disease.
…
When Kanna finally came home after visiting the pharmacy both Sokka and Katara were already home. The sun had set some half an hour ago and Katara was already at the stove, her hair messily tied back and an apron casually flung over her neck.
"Welcome home, Gran-gran!" she said cheerfully, hugging her grandmother and giving her a kiss on the older woman's weathered cheek. "You've been gone a while, I was worried."
Kanna scanned the happy face of Katara, and smiled widely. "Nothing to worry about. I just came from the hospital."
Katara's brows came together in momentary confusion, but then two fingers touched her chin where a small bandage still protected the stitches. "Oh Gran-gran, did you go because of those silly brain scans?" she asked, stirring a pot of soup.
"Yes, I did, and…you were right! Nothing's terribly wrong. Just some young women sometimes experience clumsiness at your age…hormones you know," replied Kanna, her heart sinking. She hated lying to Katara, who nodded thoughtfully.
"See, Gran-gran, you worried for nothing," Katara said, taking the medicine that Kanna held. "So if I just take this medicine then I should be fine, right?"
Gran-gran nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
…
A week later Katara returned to Ho Miu Ling Hospital for her first check-up with the neurologist. "Stay outside," Dr. Zuko said brusquely to Kanna.
"Fine," Kanna whispered, "but remember—I've not told her about the disease yet. So don't you dare." Braver men than Dr. Zuko would—and, in fact, have—shrink under the fierce glare that Kanna sent his way. Slightly ruffled and definitely scared, Zuko returned to his office.
Katara met him with a narrow-eyed expression she must have clearly picked up from her grandmother. "Would it kill you to be just a little more polite?" she demanded. "You were so mean to my Gran-gran!"
"I'm a doctor. And so I know what's best," Zuko replied. At this point Katara's eyes were nothing more than the tiniest slits of blue and he commented, "That look does not suit you."
Katara hissed but held in her response. I'm the bigger person here, she reminded herself, you shouldn't let some arrogant doctor get such a rise out of you. She sat up a little straighter and more dignified in her chair.
"How are your sympoms?" Zuko asked, business-like, no warmth or even care in his tone.
Katara shrugged. "I don't feel any different than a week ago," she said. "I'm still clumsy but I think that medicine is helping." Zuko was silent for a few minutes, writing in her patient chart.
"You don't look like you're from around here," he said, glancing at her dark skin, chestnut hair, and blue eyes.
"And I'm from Shui Guo originally, so what?" said Katara. She did not much like this doctor, with his rude, prideful speech and utter lack of consideration for her, the patient. "You don't look like someone from Ba Sing Se either." Most people in Tu Guo, where Ba Sing Se was located, tended to have light brown skin, dark brown or black hair, and typically had green or brown eyes. Zuko, who was slim where native Tu Guo citizens ran to stocky, and who had very fine black hair which contrasted with his very fair skin and narrow golden irises, definitely stood out from every other citizen in Ba Sing Se.
"My… family is from Lie Huo Guo," said Zuko. "Definitely better than this dump of a city. Anyway I heard that Shui Guo is full of peasants. Are you one of them?"
"What?" Katara screeched indignantly. "Did you just call me a peasant? Who do you think you are, you arrogant…you—you—" Sadly, Katara could not find just the right words to describe the person in front of her, and she sputtered angrily.
"Ouch, that hurt," Zuko muttered in his usual slightly husky monotone. "Good thing I'm in a hospital."
She glared at him, her fists balled, and forced herself back to civility. Not that this guy deserved it. "Can we just get on with the exam?" she said quietly.
Katara submitted herself to Zuko's exam and when she left they were both in a bad mood.
"He's so annoying!" she declared to her grandmother.
"She's so irritating!" Zuko said angrily to his door.
The door to his office opened some time after Katara had left. "You know this place is really uncheerful," came a perky voice. Zuko groaned mentally. Ty Lee Kyung, MD, was one of those perpetually happy and bubbly people that inherently dark people like Zuko did not get along with. On the other hand that same ebullient nature helped her as a pediatrician and she was easily one of the most popular doctors at Ho Miu Ling.
"What, is the aura here too black or something?" said Zuko waspishly.
Ty Lee nodded seriously, twirling her long braid thoughtfully around her finger. "Really, Zuko, your job as a doctor is to encourage people that they are going to live. But when sick people walk in here they feel like they will just die!"
Zuko snorted. "I don't care what you say, there is no way I'm painting the walls of my office pink. Or putting up pictures of unicorns and rainbows on my door."
"Well no, you couldn't do that, silly, because that's the way my office is decorated," said Ty Lee cheerfully. "But maybe you could—"
"No, Ty Lee, I really couldn't," said Zuko firmly, irritation roughening his voice. "Why give people false hope? Now if you don't mind—or hell, I don't care if you do mind—but I've a lot of work to do, so please leave me alone." He deliberately bent his head to concentrate on his work, but he heard Ty Lee's good-bye.
Once she had left Zuko let out a long sigh and massaged his temple with his fingers. Seeing Ty Lee, whom he had known since they were both very young, brought back childhood memories that Zuko didn't particularly want. His fingers encountered the scar that disfigured a third of his face and he shook his head in disgust. At that moment his pager beeped, and he went to find his uncle.
"Yes, Uncle?" said Zuko with some patience. Iroh was one of the few people that Zuko attempted to control himself around, because he was fully aware of exactly how much the older man had done for him.
Iroh looked at him seriously. "You are not going to like this, nephew," said Iroh, sipping at his tea, "but your sister Azula is coming to visit tomorrow."
A/N: Hey everyone thanks for reading this chapter! I tried to find the actual names of the different kingdoms—Lie Huo Guo is Fire Nation and Tu Guo is Earth Kingdom obviously. I couldn't find the word for the Water Tribes so I tried using the Cantonese word for water, Shui.
In retrospect I realize I probably should have made Ty Lee the nurse and Mei a surgeon, given her canon thing with knives and all that.
But I hope you all enjoyed the Zuko-Katara interaction…don't worry, it gets better from here.