This is it, ladies and gentlemen! The last piece of the Olympic AU! Thank you for all of your enthusiasm and support for this! Doing the separate Olympics fic is still a thiking-in-progress...I would really have to expand the story quite a bit and learn a lot more about the Summer Olympics and swimming and such. I'm pretty busy this year, but it's a maybe on my list. Any help with research and the like is encouraged. Once again, thank you so much for giving me a lot of feedback on this! Please enjoy...

15. Wonderland

"Don't be nervous," Zuko smoothed the strands of dark hair back and appraised her, from her white swimming cap to her bare feet, shivering slightly on the rubber mat despite her jacket wrapped around her lithe form. "Are you ready?"

She heard the cheering echoing from down the hallway from the stands mixed in with the eager voices of the reporters. Sokka's voice could be heard even from inside what she called the "Olympic green room," roaring terrible rhyming slogans. Cameras clicked and whirled as a microphone screeched. The smell of chlorine seemed stronger than ever.

"I...I don't know." she whispered, mindful of her competition nearby. "I'm so..."

"Katara," he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "This is your first race. This is the fifty metre freestyle. You're amazing at speed, finesse, power. You made it through to the finals. You'll do wonderful."

"Five minutes, swimmers!" the intercom boomed. "Five minutes!"

"Wait," Katara grabbed Zuko's arm just as he began to lead her to her mark. "What place did Mai get on her first one?"

Zuko paused and hesitantly muttered, "Second. Silver."

She felt her chest grow cold and her palms sweat. "Oh."

He shook his head as they made their way out of the hot, small room. "Katara, don't think about it. I shouldn't have told you."

They walked into a burst of light and color and cheers that filled the large arena. She felt faint and her knees began to wobble. Cameras flashed and perople were talking a mile a minute as they walked down to her number, Katara trying to keep up a confident, if not impassive facade. She was mindful of the wet floor beneath her. There was no need to slip and potentially hit her head when she made it this far. The girl could see it on the news, the headline bemoaning Newcomer loses chance to slippery floor. She glanced to her right and saw Jet, smirking and striding smoothly as if walking down an aisle, with Mai with her chin proudly lifted and a slight, self-asssured turn of her lips. The crowd was cheering so much that she felt her echoes float down to shake her bones.

Oh, God, I'm here. Katara realized as her feet reached the edge of the pool. The Olympics.

"Let me help you." Her jacket slipped off her shoulders softly and she watched as Zuko carefully folded it over his arm. She gazed down at the clear, blue water, fidgeting. "Good luck, Katara."

Her throat closed. "Zuko—" She felt a twisting sensation in her stomach and something rising in her mouth.

"Swimmers are approaching their marks..."

He hugged her quickly. "When Pakku showed me a tape of your practice, I knew you had great potential to come here. I'm glad that you're here, that you're my student. I—"

"Coaches, off the pool area!"

Zuko flushed and waved as he retreated to the sidelines. "Got to go. You can do this, Katara."

Katara crouched down, ready to dive. Goosebumps were up and down her arms.

"They're getting ready—"

Mai was at her side, face intense. Her black hair was neatly tucked into her white cap, her sharp cheekbones exuding seriousness.

There had been no taunts, no shoves, no tripping. Mai was too serious, too mature for that. She knew the media would play up the "romance rivals" up. Katara felt a deep respect for the girl next to her.

"Hey," said rival said, voice too soft for the cameras to catch, but loud enough to hear above the constant claps and shouts. "Heard you were pretty good. You did make it to the finals."

Katara would have shrugged if she wasn't so determined to hold her position. "Thanks. You did well, too."

An eyebrow rose. "Thanks. Just to let you know, when the US is doing the relay, we have a pretty good chance of winning first while working together." The water splashed beneath them in a small wave. "But as this is an individual race, only one of us can really bring back the gold here."

"Don't be so sure," Katara answered. "There are, after all, about thirteen other chances."

Mai made something between a chuckle and a snort. "Touche. You're not a bad competitor."

"Back at you."

"But, remember, I've been competing longer than you."

Katara turned her face back to the pool. "Remember what they say about beginner's luck."

Mai grinned slightly. "We'll see, Amaruq. Let's hope they get on with starting this before our banter becomes as tasteless as those comentators' up there."

Katara laughed, just as the buzzer rang, shooting right through her ears. She jumped, a split second too slow.

Her dive wasn't as smooth as she wanted it to be, but at least she was in the pool. The cold water shocked her, right down to her bones, but she kicked her feet and shoved her arms forward as hard as she could. She heard faint screeches and more clapping through the water. Mai was swimming hard, her arms and legs cutting swiftly through the water just a few feet in front of her. The other woman from Hungary on her left was steadily moving closer towards her shoulder.

The cheers were pounding into her ears. The water was slapping and smacking harshly, still too cold. Her hands were shaking. Almost everyone was ahead of her.

Calm down.

She closed her eyes, took her mind away. What did she have to lose?

She opened her eyes slowly. The sounds dimmed. The water played silvery light across her dark skin. She looked down and glimpsed colorful Olympic emblems strewn across the concrete floor. With enough imagination, they could become coral and fish. She was seven years old, her hair streaming in the water, her chubby legs kicking very gently against the glass-like surface, her arms reaching for an imaginary treasure chest. Her mother was laughing as she tried to swim with her legs locked together like a mermaid, then gently corrected her arms and tilted her chin. More gently, Katara. Be the water.

Be the water.

The water seemed to be flowing in and out through her lungs and mouth and nose, despite she knew in the back of her mind that she was breathing automatically in time like a heartbeat. Her swimming cap was a tad askew, but she let her hair tap her face like seaweed. The water moved gently against her, but did not fight as she carefully cleared a path for herself.

Her mother pretended often that she was a dolphin, a whale, a shark, and they raced each other. She often paddled right past her mother, giggling softly in her mind in delight.

Just like that.

Past one, two, three, four, five.

She flipped smoothly against the wall, one of her favorite childhood tricks that she used to impress her parents and Sokka. Her hair spun gracefully as she did. She enjoyed watching that, but it really wasn't the best time.

She was ahead. Third.

Katara swam, her cap finally coming off in the water. Her hair, still in a ponytail, flowed behind her. It did not matter. She felt free.

Her hand reached out. For the first time, she realized she was quite alone. Should she look back?

Her fingers gently touched the wall.

A second buzzer sounded. The water nearly shivered.

She burst out of the water, and an explosion of noise nearly gave her heart failure as someone was yelling her name. She stared stupidly as the others came up and pushed back their goggles and tossed off their caps, staring. Zuko was gaping at her. She looked at the scoreboard, but her goggles were full of water. She shoved them away, allowing them to dangle past her neck. She looked around, and realized that her swim cap was still at the bottom of the pool. Should she get it? Or will someone else? Everyone was hollering like mad, and cameras were flashing in a frenzy, and well-dressed people with microphones were rushing at her.

Oh.

She dimly hauled herself out of the water, watching as the water streamed off of her heavily. She freed her hair with a bit of a struggle, trying to not snap the strands.

"Katara!"

Arms were around her, lifting her into the air. She shrieked, and presently heard faint laughter.

She stared at her coach, still in a slight daze. "How, how, did I do?"

He rolled his eyes and hugged her tighter. "Katara, you won. I dare say you broke a record."

"Me?"

"Oh, God, you didn't realize you—" He kissed her, hard. She laughed, startled, against his mouth as the video cameras pointed directly at them, and the reporters wrote furiously in their notepads. Katara heard a clattering sound and realized his clipboard had dropped right onto the floor. He pulled away and touched her still chlorine-touched lips.

"That one," he said as he drew away from her. "Was a six-point-oh."

She laughed, a shocked burst leaping from her mouth. "You made a joke."

He stood back, his jacket soaked, hands clasping hers. "Was it bad?"

"It was better than Sokka's." She told him. He echoed her laugh and kissed her again, then paused when he spotted the horde of journalists waving their hands at her. "I think you owe a few people interviews."

"Oh, no." She wailed and covered her face.

Zuko shook his head, grinning, and wrapped her in a towel. "Come on, Katara. Let's go see those scores."