How Do I Loathe Thee?
Warning: Content is highly unedited and subjected to blatant/annoying mistakes. Please point them out and then feel free to continue to point… at me. With laughter. (Will edit when less sleep deprived.)
Chapter Four: I Hate the Way You Drive My Car (Part Two)
Katara drove. She forced her entire being into the task, gripping the steering wheel as if it were a lifeline. She was upset, understandably. Sokka had crossed an especially dangerous line, and she was in no mood to spare Zuko from the residual blast of her revenge, innocent or not. He'd still, after all, said horrible things to her the very first time they'd met. She had no reason to believe that he wouldn't still treat her with disdain were his hand not forced.
He may have been relatively nice and patient during the tutoring session, but that wasn't enough to write him off. He was still getting something out of his, and it was entirely likely he'd want nothing to do with her once this date came and passed and he no longer had to bend to his Uncle's will. 'I'll probably have to start looking for a new tutor tomorrow,' she groused, chancing a half-glance to her right.
Sure, he seemed innocent enough now. His scar was hidden in the peripheral view she had of his face and without it he looked… exactly like the kind of stuck up prep she tired her damndest to avoid. It pained her to admit it, but he was one of those effortlessly handsome kind of boys, the kind everything came easily to. True, his hair style and clothing seemed specially crafted to distance himself from that persona, but it was still there- she was sure- resting just below the surface. Katara knew he had to work in his Uncle's shop, and his entire life was essentially a mystery to her… but there was something in his behavior at times that screamed "I'm better than you".
She shook her head. Yes she was angry, but she wasn't a judgmental person... or at least, she tried not to be. Zuko may have half the looks of the type of guy she hated, but that didn't necessarily make him one. And the scar was probably a character building event in his life, if nothing else. Of course, who knew if he milked it to get sympathy out of girls? A handful of the rumors she'd heard suggested he wasn't exactly a novice when it came to playing games with the fairer sex. Katara scowled. There was no telling what was true anymore, last year, a good portion of the rumors floating around the halls had been about her, after all, and the year before that, more still. They were all bunk.
Eventually, the silent duo pulled up in front of a small bistro called Cabbage Alley, so named for the street it was on. It wasn't the usual fair of the high school crowd as it was nowhere near the local theater, which was the central hub of teen activity in the town. Still, it wasn't a bad looking little establishment. Tea lights wrapped around the overhang of the roof and around the hand railing of the outdoor patio, funky paintings hung on the walls inside heavy with colors and designs popular in the seventies, and mod-looking furniture sat in the waiting area just by the front door.
Zuko stiffly followed Katara in from the car, hastily wiping his nerve-sweaty hands off on his pants. Figuring she'd had enough quiet time to cool down, he chanced to say, "Never been here before… it looks nice."
Katara barely acknowledged him, only sparing a slight shrug as she told the hostess at the podium that they were a party of two.
The hostess smiled brightly at the couple, and pointed to a chalk sign which cheerfully told them, "Seat Yourself".
She threw the young woman a smile and took a sharp turn to the right, to a smaller, closed off dining room, catching Zuko off guard. A waitress appeared almost immediately with a carafe of water and two menus. After assuring them she would be back momentarily to take their orders, Zuko and Katara were utterly alone.
"Come here often?" Zuko tried.
"Sometimes," Katara replied airily, studying the menu like it held the answers to Monday's history quiz.
Zuko found it hard to muster up any focus on his end. He rapped his fingers on his knee and glanced around haphazardly at the odd décor. "Uncle would love this place," he muttered.
Katara flattened the menu on the table and gave Zuko a sharp glare. "Could you maybe stop bringing up your uncle? It's awkward, and I'm trying really hard to not be angry right now. You're making it difficult."
Zuko gulped and nodded, "Sure." He glued his eyes to his own menu with a renewed determination, though when the waitress finally arrived to take their orders, he only half-remembered what he'd pointed at.
Dinner trudged on and seemed practically to last forever. The conversation was strained and usually fizzled out within two exchanges. Zuko pulled at his collar; so far, he'd made every attempt –Katara wasn't having it.
Zuko picked at his food (some curried rice dish) and sighed. "So," he said at length, "What movie did you want to see after this?" He hoped it wouldn't be anything too girly. Katara didn't seem like the chick-flick obsessing type, but she seemed keen on spiting him, so he wouldn't be surprised.
"Actually," she shrugged with forced nonchalance, twirling her fork in her angel hair pasta, "I was thinking that we skip the movie."
Zuko perked up. Was the torture almost over? "Does that mean you want to call it quits after this?"
"No," she said with a blithe wave of her hand. "Of course not. I'm having a great time."
The boy wasn't the most attuned to the female psyche, but he was pretty sure she was lying. "You are?"
"Sure!" Katara reached across the table and, much to Zuko's shock, patted his hand. She smiled and tilted her head to the side. "I completely understand what you were saying before. And I was thinking to myself, why force you to sit through some movie you'd hate, when we could go to a party we'd both enjoy?"
Zuko arched an eyebrow. "A party," he parroted incredulously.
"Oh yeah," she nodded. "My friend Haru is having a small party at his house tonight. I was thinking we could go. It would be fun! There'd be music and dancing and friends –it will be great!"
Zuko was not fooled. Sokka had filled him in on a couple details about his little sister, beyond her love for field hockey and Twix bars. She was notorious for avoiding parties (Sokka's exact phrase was "buzz-kill"). This seemed as woefully out of character for her as how nice she was being to him. Still… she must have a good reason for throwing herself into something she didn't particularly like. And he wanted to get on her good side. Calling her out would not achieve that. So, knowing he would probably regret his decision in the morning, and knowing more than likely, that one of the Wattribe siblings would be chewing him out the next day, Zuko Nations agreed.
Though it was barely eight o'clock by the time they arrived, the party was already starting to get rather lively, probably coinciding with the setting of the sun some forty-five minutes earlier. The deep base overshadowed the song and Zuko could feel it rattling through his chest as they walked up to the door. Exposing herself as the partying novice she was, Katara reached for the doorbell.
Zuko stopped her. "Don't bother, no one will hear." Against her protest of how rude it was to barge into someone else's home, Zuko opened the unlocked door and promptly side-stepped one of the nameless football jocks who'd evidently over-done his pre-gaming, as he stumbled over stone-cold-drunk. Zuko scowled, and steadied Katara's arm as he fell against her.
"What a jerk," he muttered; hand still on his date's arm as she struggled to step over the large mass of the giggling linebacker on the floor.
"Takes one to know one," she muttered back, pulling her arm out of his grasp as soon as she was steady on her feet.
Zuko glared at her, he couldn't help it. And it seemed like Katara's painfully obvious ruse was no longer a priority for her as she promptly turned heel and disappeared into the kitchen. Zuko ran a hand down his face, regretting the party invite ahead of schedule. He was ditched, and given the sense of chivalry beaten (lovingly) into him over the years by his old-fashioned uncle, he knew he couldn't just leave without her. So, he resolved himself to wait it out. It was one night. He could handle it. Katara Wattribe could do her worst, but he wasn't about to give up.
Dodging dancing party-goers (who were actually flailing more than anything else), Zuko wandered around the main level of the house, too intimidated to go down into the basement or into the upper levels lest he walk in on some disturbing sights (years of attending similar functions taught him at least this much caution). Eventually he found the beverage table, and after some hunting (and a near miss with the dubious smelling red punch), he managed to get himself a drink sans-alcohol. Having something to hold in his hands made him feel less awkward, and everyone would assume he was drinking with the rest of them.
It was best, he knew, to keep a level head. Katara was fast on her way to doing something really stupid, he had a feeling, and it wouldn't do for him to be a drunken mess when she'd undoubtedly need him later. Still, he sighed, casting a longing glance and the large collection set up for easy access on the table, and the keg in the corner, after everything he'd been through, he sure as hell could use a drink.
He shook the thought from his head and checked his watch. Eight-thirty. He groaned. It was going to be a long night.
Throughout the evening, Zuko caught flashes and glimpses of Katara and every time he thought he was about to catch up to her, she disappeared again like a mirage. 'That's it,' he thought. 'Katara and Sokka must have a gene that enables them to appear and disappear at will.'
As if to prove this point, an arm latched around his shoulder. "Zuko! My man!" Sokka cried jovially. He patted Zuko's chest with his drink. "What brings you here? I thought you and Katara would be half-way through that new vampire movie by now?" Then his smile turned dark. "You didn't ditch her, did you?"
"N-no!" Zuko sputtered, "Of course not! She wanted to come here instead! I swear!"
"Oh," Sokka shrugged, pacified as ever. "In that case, let me introduce you to Suki! My lady love!" With that, he seemed to reach out at random into the crowd and pull her out. She looked a little startled, but mirthful as she batted playfully at Sokka's hand.
Zuko appraised her. "So you're behind all this."
"What?" she balked. "Oh no. This is all Sokka. I don't even know half of what he plotted in order to take me out tonight and I don't want to know, because I'm sure it would result in me wanting to hit him, and I'd really rather just enjoy a night out in public with my boyfriend. So whatever he did to you, I'm sorry, but please, for my own sake, I don't want to hear it!" With that, she grabbed onto Sokka's arm and dragged him away in to the mass of pulsating, dancing bodies.
Once again, Zuko was left alone. To brood, as was his natural state these days.
Not many people could be prevailed upon to talk with Zuko, who seemed to radiate agitation and anger in enough mass to form an impenetrable force field. Well, almost impenetrable. One person made it through, and Zuko had to give the kid some credit. You had to have balls to walk around with something like that on your face, and Zuko felt himself an expert on such matters.
"So," the mustached kid said as he leaned against the wall beside Zuko. "You are that transfer kid from last year, right? Zook or something?"
"Zuko," Zuko replied.
"Right," the boy said with a twitch of his facial hair, "Zuko. So, is it true, are you some deviant from the west? Because if you are, I might have to ask you to leave my party. Can't have the cops called, you know."
Zuko groaned. "No. That's not true." He looked at the kid in the eye. "Those are just rumors. The truth is that I transferred here. There is no big mystery. It's really boring, actually."
He shrugged. "Figured as much." He stuck out his hand. "The name's Haru, and I guess this is a little belated, but welcome to town."
Unsure of what else to do, Zuko shook his hand. "Thanks…"
At that moment, a loud crash rang out from the kitchen, followed with a shrill cry that sounded too much like Katara for Zuko to not go investigate. Nodding in apology to Haru, he pushed past the boy and hurried to the source of the commotion. Sure enough, there was Katara in the thick of it. Her shoulders literally heaved with anger, and beside her on the floor lay a broken plate. Her fists were clenched almost bone-white.
A guy that looked vaguely familiar to Zuko was trying his hardest to calm her down, his shoulders hunched and his arms outstretched towards her, palms up. "Kat, baby," he slurred over the toothpick between his lips as he stepped forward. "I don't understand!"
She slapped his hand away and stepped back. "Don't come any closer to me you lying sack of shit!" Her voice wavered, overwrought with rage, and, if Zuko's hunch was correct, tears.
It was time, he decided, to intervene and get his date out of there.
"Katara," he said loudly. It rang out awkwardly, as apparently the fight had caused the rest of the party to quiet down considerably. He licked his lips tentatively before continuing, having successfully diverted all attention towards himself. He moved cautiously towards her, with the care one might take when trying to sooth and capture an injured bear. "I've been looking all over for you," he said gently, ignoring everyone else.
She looked extremely confused, her moistened eyes started at him uncertainly. Mascara dribbled pitifully down her cheeks. "What?"
With the tension of the moment sufficiently broken and the shock of the breaking plate forgotten in favor of more pressing matters (finding more alcohol and badgering whoever had control of the i-Pod to choose a better song), the party resumed its previous unruly volume. Zuko sighed in relief.
"Come on Sweetness," he murmured, coaxing her to him. "It's time to get you home."
Her friend with the toothpick wasn't having any of that. "Hey, pal, we were talking!" He made to grab Katara away, but Zuko was faster.
He took her by the shoulders and moved himself in front of her. "Yeah, and now I'm taking her home. Is that concept too difficult for you?"
"Yeah, and what makes you think she wants to go with you?" the guy sneered, apparently forgetting the unflattering name (not to mention plate) that Katara had hurled at him not a minute earlier.
Zuko felt her fingers clench into his shirt. In a small voice, Katara said, "Zuko, I want to go home."
Zuko huffed at the toothpick guy, realizing that Katara had made his point perfectly. Then, cradling her shoulders, he marched them out of the kitchen and through the mess of drunken bodies in the living room. She was warbling on her feet and used him as a sort of crutch. He didn't need to smell the alcohol on her breath to know she was practically wasted. Obviously, she was in no fit state to drive.
They were about to reach the front door when Katara froze. "Oh god," she uttered turning a sickly shade of green, "I hafta-" With that, she took off in a precarious run to the small half-bath in the entryway, tossing out a 'friendly' couple as she dove for the toilet.
Zuko followed after her and crouched down beside her, shutting the door with his foot. Throughout the course of the night, her hair had managed to escape the confines of her bun, so he pulled it away from her face for her. She gave him a grateful half-glance before heaving her dinner into the porcelain bowl.
After emptying her stomach of more contents then it seemed capable of holding, she sat back on the floor and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I think that's the last of it," she said morosely, sounding more like herself.
"Feeling any better?" Zuko reached a hand down to help her up. She graciously grabbed it with the hand she hadn't wiped her mouth with.
"Yeah, I think so." She kept her eyes downcast, obviously mortified.
Zuko shuffled on his feet. "Look," he said. "Why don't you clean yourself up? I'll just go wait for you outside, and when you're ready, I'll drive you home."
"Sure," she said, "Thanks." Then, after a moment, she added. "I'm sorry… for all this."
Zuko dipped a shoulder as he ducked out the door, "Don't worry about it."
He shut the door gently and made his way to the front porch. The cool, fresh night air was a welcomed reprieve from the stifling atmosphere of the party (not to mention the bathroom). Realizing he hadn't checked the time in a while, he pulled out his phone and was surprised to find he'd had a missed call. "Wonder what Uncle wants," he muttered allowed, flipping his phone open and dialing up his mailbox code. As the message played, his eyes widened and he nearly dropped the phone.
Katara chose that moment to come out. She patted her dress and gave him a timid smile. "Thanks for in there," she said. Then she noticed how visibly upset he looked. Her brow creased. "Is something wrong?"
"I need to get to the hospital. Now."
After a brief battle over the car keys, they made it into the car. Zuko had every intention of taking Katara home, then driving to the hospital in his own car, but she refused.
"Please, Zuko!" she begged. "I can't go home right now, I still reek of alcohol and I can barely stand straight! If my dad catches me I'm dead!"
"Yeah, well, you should have thought of that before!" he growled. He was no longer in any mood to put up with her antics tonight. He had other things to worry about now.
Her glare froze. "I'm not getting out of this car. I refuse. You can't make me. If you want to get to the hospital tonight, you're going to have to take me with you."
"I can't believe you!" Zuko slammed is hands against the wheel. But, he realized, he had to contain himself. The last thing he needed was to let his anger get him into a careless wreck, especially in the mayor's car with the mayor's daughter, especially with how much his uncle needed him… He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Alright. Fine. You can come with me. But don't expect me to babysit you all night, got it?"
Katara staunchly refused to reply.
They drove in silence, Zuko tensely hunched over the wheel. It was still early yet, not quite a quarter of eleven. It made sense; he tried to tell himself, that she wouldn't want to go home. Her father was likely still awake and keen to inspect her after what was, evidently, her first date. If she went to him in her current state, she would probably never be allowed to leave her room again. And if it wasn't for the chance that Zuko might also be held responsible, he would have gladly allowed it to happen. Yhe world would be better off, he was sure, with the wrecking ball that was Katara Wattribe on permanent house arrest.
"Quit gunning the engine like that," Katara snapped.
Zuko glanced at her. "I know what I'm doing." He gunned it again, just to spite her.
"It's an old car!" She argued, "You can't just do that, you'll wear it out! God, don't you know how to drive?"
"If you don't like my driving, maybe you shouldn't have gone on that little drinking binge tonight," he snapped back. "Then you could be driving, going home, and leaving me alone!"
"God, you are such an asshole!" She screeched, tossing her hands into the air as though she was done with the whole thing.
"Yeah and you're such an angel yourself," he drawled sarcastically, successfully shutting her up.
Once at the hospital, Zuko did his best to ignore Katara. As he said, he was not going to baby sit her. She was on her own. He checked in at the front desk, to find the room his uncle was in. Katara stood nervously behind, chewing her bottom lip and twisting her hair between her fingers.
"Is she with you," the tired receptionist asked, gesturing vaguely to the fidgeting Katara.
Zuko hesitated. "…Yeah."
"Her name?" She snapped her gum impatiently.
"Katara Wattribe."
"She family?" The nurse seemed thankfully oblivious to the fact that she had the same last name as the mayor, and continued on with the registration process as distracted as ever.
"No."
"Okay," the brunette's head bobbed. "She won't be allowed in the room, but she can go to the fourth floor waiting area." She dug in a side drawer for two badges, then printed off the clearance stickers with their names on them. "Here, take these with you and keep them on you at all times. You'll be asked to leave the area if you are caught without them."
Zuko nodded. Then he turned to Katara, threw the badge around her neck and said, "Come on."
They rode the elevator in silence. To her credit, Katara looked sufficiently bashful, almost ashamed.
'Serves her right,' Zuko thought, as the elevator arrived at their destination. Without a second thought, he took off in a near run to room 456. He paused though, once he reached the door, and turned to Katara who'd struggled to keep up with him. She looked miserable and a small grain of pity forced its way into Zuko's conscience. "I'm sorry," he said, gruffly. "But you're not allowed in the room. You'll have to go to the waiting area just down the hall." He pointed down the way and then disappeared behind the door.
Katara stood in a half-daze for a moment outside the door before she finally willed her feet to walk in the direction Zuko'd told her to. She'd started having second thoughts about her decision the moment they'd gotten out of the car. Standing awkwardly behind him as he checked them in only made it worse, as did the elevator ride. Of course, what really clinched it, what really made her feel like the lowest of the low, was when she finally arrived in the waiting area and noticed the large red sign hanging over head: "HOSPICE".
She felt like throwing up all over again.
The lone girl paced. She thumbed through the old magazines, and even tried to pay attention to the practically muted late-night news show playing on a suspended television in the corner. Nothing could distract her from the wretched feeling pooling in her gut. Of course the one night she decided to be bad, the one night she decided to exact revenge, to get even… Of course it would be the night things royally blew up in her face. She hadn't meant to force herself into such a personal family crisis, but surely if Zuko had told her why, exactly, he had to go to the hospital; she would have understood and gone home…
Then again, the way she treated him, was it really any of her business? He had no obligation to tell her anything, especially after the way he'd helped her escape that awful party. She was a horrible person, there was no denying it. Tears dribbled down her nose as she held her head in her hands, hunched over on the uncomfortable waiting room bench.
She noticed the smell of coffee first. Then the cup and hand that offered it to her.
Zuko had a grim, otherwise unreadable expression on his face. He sat down next to her, rested his head against the wall, and stared blankly into the middle distance.
Katara typically avoided black coffee, but was thankful for it nonetheless and sipped it carefully. She wanted to say something, anything, to break the awful silence that hung between them, but she couldn't think of what. 'Sorry', sounded trite and not nearly powerful enough to encompass the depth of her remorse. Thinking up anything more complicated only threatened to give her a headache. She almost broke down into tears again from sheer frustration. At herself. At the situation. At Zuko's stalwart silence.
"It's my cousin."
Katara almost spilled her coffee, and nearly convinced herself that the soft, wispy voice she heard couldn't have been anything but her imagination. Zuko, after all, hadn't moved, hadn't looked at her. She kept an eye on him though, just in case he spoke again, determined to be ready for it.
"His name is Lu Ten." He spoke again, and this time Katara saw the evidence of it on his lips.
She stared down into her drink, the dark reflection of her face wavering in the ripples. "I know… I know this won't mean much, but for what it's worth, I- I'm so sorry." She gripped the Styrofoam cup tighter so her nails left little half-moon indents.
Zuko sighed, "I know." He let his head fall to his chest and tilted it to look at her. "I know ."
It wasn't a bevy of discussion, the regular level of 'talking it out' she normally required for such instances, but Katara believed that he understood. And that he knew what she meant. She nodded, grateful to him and took another shaky sip of her rapidly cooling drink. The bitter taste of it mixed with the salt of her tears, and the unsavory culmination, she thought, reflected so perfectly how she felt on the inside.
"What's he like?" she found herself asking. Half surprised to find she was genuinely curious and not just trying to break the unnerving quiet.
She glanced at Zuko, who looked as though he hadn't heard her.
Then he spoke. "He was a soldier. And a good man."
The spent the next hour talking in hushed tones, until the older and haggard form of Iroh appeared, silently beckoning Zuko to his side. He returned sometime later, his fists clenched and his eyes red. He sat down silently beside Katara again, and held his head in his hands, hunched over his knees.
Wordlessly, she placed a hand on his back. He stiffened for a moment, but didn't move it off. Eventually, she could feel the tension leave his muscles. She leaned over him, wrapping her arm him so that it rested on his arm, and placed her cheek on his shoulder. He sighed, and it seemed to run through his whole body. She pulled him closer as he began to shake with the effort of his silenced tears. They stayed like this throughout the night, until they fell asleep, still locked in their clumsy embrace.
(Long) Author's Note: This chapter is a big'un (comparatively, at least). Wanted to make it up to you all after I got it out a little late. And yeah, it kind of took a dive in the humor aspect here, but worry not- comedic relief will return next chapter. Cross my heart and hope to die. Speaking of which…
Yeah, I just went there. I just brought Lu Ten to life and killed him. Point blank.
(For those of you who are confused, just in case, I suggest looking up the definition of "hospice". It will help.)
Some of you are probably wondering what I could possibly be thinking, as the death of Lu Ten is a huuuuuge leap in development for Iroh's character, because common A:TLA knowledge dictates that if his son lived, Iroh would still be a gung-ho general, crowned price of the Fire Nation and all that (in canon, at least, and whatever the equivalent in my fanon universe is… kukuku).
My response to you: Have a little faith. Mama Doily knows what she's doing… And also, hey, a little bit of Zutara Angst Fluff! (If something like this can qualify as "fluff"…)
Next chapter up: "I Hate the Way You Stare". Katara's trouble with Haru's party has only just begun, and Zuko's in for an incredibly awkward morning after. With elections coming up, everyone's game to be victimized by a little slander… Enter Ace Reporter Zhao Spades and his mutton-chops of truth and justice!
No ETA as of yet, but, like always, feel free to check my profile page for more info. For further riveting details about my life/fics, I also have a livejournal, linked through my "homepage". Friend me. I'm lonely. –cries-
Oh, and lastly, you're reviews are always welcomed and highly encouraged. I would really like to hear your opinions on this chapter, especially with the heavy ending…
Sorry for talking your ear off! Much love to you all!
-Doily-