Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender.

Story note: I guess this story would only make sense if it happened just after World War two, so that's when this takes place.

Ch.4

Zuko had the dream that night, and it was still as terrifying as the first time it came to him. The explosion, his friend being engulfed in flames while he laid useless on the floor, the ship sinking, water rising, unconsciousness, and waking up the only survivor of a ship you were in charge of, you were made to keep safe.

Zuko tried to stop his panting, tried to push the lump down in his throat, tried to ignore the sweat that plastered his clothes to his clammy body. Hot, but cold, he pried open the window overlooking his garden, and breathed in the refreshing night air. But soon the breath was caught in his throat as he noticed a solitary figure walking among the lilacs.

Her walk was lithe and slow, and her face was turned solemnly to the pale moon. Zuko sighed, feeling like he watched something he shouldn't, a private conversation which the girl and the glowing orb silently carried out.

Katara Drasinki let the chestnut waves of hair, normally tied up, hang freely down her back. She only had on a thin white nightgown, the evening being too hot to dress more proprietarily with a shawl or jacket, and no one was going to see her anyways. All the servants had been long asleep, the hour being past midnight.

Katara was restless; she did not want to think it was because of him. The reason was obviously the excitement of the party and Mrs. White's dessert having such a success, and then the servant's getting the leftovers of the delicious meal. The cake was so good too, and Katara had been so full afterwards it hurt to do anything but lie down. She hadn't felt that happy since her eighteenth birthday, the week before her mother died.

Feeling out of place, lonely, and yearning for her brother, Katara trudged heavily to her room. Zuko watched her walk back into the house, and wondered at her late night visit to the overgrown and very large garden. When she disappeared from sight, Zuko lay back down, but fear of the vivid dream kept his mind from gaining the unconscious state he wished.

Katara felt better the next morning, and Mr. Sidle could not get her to shut up about the "rolling hills of Poland and the amazing Tatras." From what Mr. Sidle picked up, the Tatras were a mountain of some sort, but he couldn't be sure, because occasionally when she got too excited she switched over to Polish.

"It is so beautiful, but you should see the valleys. The valleys are so big, and so easy to get lost in. Lasy, kwiaty, niebo, one są tak cudowny," Katara said, not watching where she was going, "niebo jest najwięcej cudowny. To kontynuuje na zawsze."

Zuko in the room they were passing thought someone was speaking gibberish, but realized the intricate sounds was another language, and he could think of only one person who would be speaking another language. He listened, and the strange sounds continued. They were gentle, almost musical.

"You'll have to go back to English dear," Mr. Sidle was saying, "I can't understand Polish." Wow, Zuko thought, when had Mr. Sidle become so informal as to call someone dear.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I hadn't realized," Katara exclaimed, "I just started rambling, and if I'm not paying attention…"

"It's all right; I think I got the general gist of what you were saying."

Katara inclined her head in a short bow. "Well I'll go finish cleaning the bathroom; the toilette you know needs a thorough rinsing."

"Okay," Mr. Sidle said, knowing she could have left that last bit out, "And don't forget to mop the back staircase, someone dragged mud in." Katara nodded, and with her bucket and supplies, went to carry out her servant duties.

The next day was Sunday, and Katara wanted to attend a Catholic service, but realized she didn't know where a Catholic Church was, considering most of England was part of the Church of England, not Catholicism. But there were other immigrants like her, and there must be a Church somewhere. Katara took up this matter with Mr. Sidle. He figured that one would be in London, but didn't know where. Rose or Mrs. White didn't know either, and Iroh was in the town, so she couldn't ask him, which left Zuko.

Katara nervously knocked on his door, and sucked in a breath. She wasn't sure if servants normally addressed their masters this way or not, but Mass was more important to her than convention.

Zuko opened the door and stared at her for a few seconds before asking, "Can I help you?"

"Um, I was wondering if you know where a Catholic service was. I asked everyone else, and no one seemed to know," Katara answered, firmly. She wanted to attend God's ceremony; she missed the comfortable feeling of being in Jesus's house. The first two months in London having not gone at all because her grandmother was such an emotional wreck. She couldn't be removed from the house without thinking she was going to get blown up.

"The only one I can think of is in London. I believe it was started by German immigrants, so it probably isn't in English," Zuko replied.

"That's okay. If you can give me the address, I would like to attend the service tomorrow," Katara said solidly, no wavering in her tone, her nervousness dissolved, her goal going to be achieved. She didn't feel like telling Zuko she had a governess as a child who taught her German.

"But it's in London, how are you going to get there? It's too far of a walk?" This girl had to be a little bit crazy if she thought she was going on foot. But her eyes were so clear, so firm in her resolve; he knew she'd find a way.

"I was thinking I could walk. I could just leave very early in the morning." It wasn't that far was it? When she came out here it wasn't that far of a drive. Only three hours. That was achievable on foot wasn't it?

"By the time you get there the service will be over, and then you'll have to walk home in the dark. London isn't exactly the safest place to be during the night." Yep, this girl was crazy.

"I know!" Katara exclaimed, "I could catch a ride with Mr. Tiller. He mentioned something when he visited the other day about having to get some tools for his store!"

"He'll leave really early in the morning though and won't be back until late in the evening. You can't be in London all day and not have something to do. There are people who'd take advantage of an idling foreigner." Damn! Why did he even care?

"I'll visit my grandmother, she'd like that," Katara replied calmly, "And when I come back, I'll go through the back door like I always do, walk up the back stairs and go to my room…Do I have you permission to leave?"

"Yes," Zuko said clearing his throat, "But with or without my permission you would have gone anyway wouldn't you?"

"Yes sir," Katara answered. "Have a good evening." She bowed, but couldn't hide the smile spreading across her face. Were servants allowed to smile in front of their masters? Oh well, she did anyways.

Happily, but sleepily Katara waited for Mr. Tiller and his truck. It was still very dark, considering it was 4 am, but Katara didn't feel frightened in its black depth, just excited. Zuko wasn't. He couldn't understand why he was worried. There were some very bad streets in London, but she wouldn't aimlessly wonder onto them, would she? It's not like she'd never been in London before, but it was easy to get lost and even living there for two months wasn't enough to be even remotely aware of the streets. Mr. Tiller was a good man and wouldn't desert her or anything, but he was very preoccupied and if she went missing or something he wouldn't know until late that night.

Katara stood cheerfully as Mr. Tiller pulled up in his truck, no anxiety weighing her down, except for the always constant nervousness about Sokka. He was a magnet for trouble, which was his own fault.

"Hey little lady," Mr. Tiller said in his thick accent, "Just hop in the back. It should be comfortable enough with all the sacks and such lying around."

"Thanks sir," Katara said climbing very unladylike into the vehicle, "I really appreciate it."

"No trouble at all," he replied happily, "Any time you need a ride just ring me on the telly."

Katara smiled and settled contentedly against what appeared to be a bag of potatoes. The journey to the city was pleasant and peaceful. The morning was chilly, but the crisp air felt good and helped clear Katara's head. Well, that's the sensation is aroused, but her head was still very much full when they arrived. The three hours spent passing hills, forests, cottages, and stunning clear streams made Katara feel very serene.

A beautiful brook that flowed close to the road greeted them by bubbling excitedly as they passed. Birds chirped saying hi to the new day. Squirrels ran impatiently up trees collecting nuts. Rabbits glided effortlessly through the greenery, occasionally grabbing a blade of grass to chomp on. The nature in this country foreign to Katara was flawless, and for once she felt connected to her surroundings.

When they got about an hour from London the roads were brick and houses were not so infrequent. In fact, country stores and houses were quite common, always in sight as they traveled under the piercing blue sky. It seemed as if it was effortless for England to produce such beauty, but going into London she knew otherwise. There were the dirty alleys, boarded up houses, and dingy shops. There were the grimy men who hung out in the pubs just waiting for a chance to shout out vulgar things to a young woman. But she would be fine. She was just going to Mass and then to her grandmother's. Plus some of London was very beautiful.

Katara loved seeing new parts of the city, good or the bad, and the part they were traveling through now was not lovely but it was not appalling either. A house with pretty flowerpots in the windows was smashed between two with collapsing roofs. A pretty boutique shop with colorful dresses on display was a block away from a dank ponshop.

This part of town was made up of equal parts of beauty and the foul, and Katara just focused on the beauty. She waved at a group of girls playing with dolls on the sidewalk and said hello to a young man who tipped his hat to her.

"Can I drop you off here lass?" Mr. Sidle asked, "Where I need to be going is just around the block."

"That's fine. The church is only a few blocks from here and the service doesn't start for another hour," Katara replied as Mr. Sidle helped her out of the back, "I'll see you later then. We'll meet here right? Tonight at seven?"

"Yep. Have a good day then." Mr. Sidle hurried off down the street, a slight limp to his stride.

Katara joined the large crowd of people on the sidewalk and barely had to walk she was shoved so much. Welcome to London. Welcome to the overpopulated areas and the people who don't care if they pushed you down. But today she didn't care about the man who said nasty things to her or the woman who told her to go back to her own country.

Because when Katara stepped into the German Church, she felt for the first time that she was home.

The high stain class windows, the alter, the statues of Mary and Jesus were all familiar. The service was lovely, and it was in German, but she could still understand it. After the mass ended, she had about an hour before her grandmother expected her, so she stayed in the church and prayed. It felt nice to be free for one day from the feelings surrounding her. The church, the service, it was all the same as if she had been in Poland. And today she felt as if she was finally coming to some kind of agreement with this foreign country. After all, she couldn't deny that the country was beautiful.

End

Next chapter we will start at the respected Mrs. Drasinki's apartment.