Ch

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

(It's Ch.5) YAY! A Prime number!

Katara gave Kanna a hug, burying her head in her grandmother's shoulder, the affectionate gentleness welcome. Kanna looked the same as always, wrinkly and old, but there was a new brightness to her eyes, almost like the warmth that used to be there when they lived in Poland. Katara smiled, enjoying the eyes that always watched her so closely as a little girl.

"Have you talked to Sokka lately?" Katara asked, wondering how her fanatical brother was doing. Probably offending the teachers and skipping class.

"He's fine, just really hates the school. At least he's made a friend though, another orphan. During break he'd like to bring him down to visit. I said it was fine as long as he keeps his grades up and doesn't cause any trouble."

"Well I'll keep my fingers crossed about that," Katara replied sarcastically. Sokka getting into trouble was the only thing she could count on him to do.

"He seems to really like this boy, so I think he'll try to behave. His name is Aang or something like that. Odd name I think," Kanna said absentmindedly. And Sokka wasn't a weird name either?

"At least he's happier," Katara said, wishing whole-heartedly for them to be together as a happy family once again. But when she thought about it, she pictured one more person…

"But what about you?" Kanna asked in her aged voice, "Are you happy where you're at."

"I think I am," Katara said genuinely. She felt happy to be in the country, happy to work every day from morning till night, happy to work hard to earn money for her family, and happy to see him.

It was evening; the house was still, everyone asleep except one person. He was waiting. It was late and he was worried, and being worried about this particular reason annoyed him. So in general he was irritated at himself for being worried and then being annoyed for being worried. It was a whole complicated thought process that only a complex person like Zuko could have, no matter how stupid.

So Zuko sat in a chair close to the window, with a good view of the path to the back door. A book lay perched in his hands, Tarzan of the Apes, by Edgar Rice burrows. It was a book he used to read as a young boy. And when he was small, he used to wish he was him. Tarzan was strong and he saved people. His father didn't call him weak and like his sister better. And after he played Tarzan in the backyard by climbing trees and such, his father would make him feel ashamed by telling him only pathetic people lived in fantasy worlds.

Azula didn't play with dolls. She didn't play princess games with Ty Lee and Mai. They practiced acrobatics, horse riding, archery, even fencing! But fencing was one thing they couldn't beat or humiliate him at. Once, his father even patted his back after a match. That was the happiest Zuko ever remembered being; the day his dad actually did something that showed an ounce of affection. A pat on the back, and Zuko thought he could have flown to the moon. Zuko was better now, he was getting over it.

And there she was.

Katara glided up the path, staring at the huge floating orb in the sky. She had always felt close to the moon, even as a little girl. The moon was always there, something she could rely on to brighten the night sky. It was her friend, her lantern in the dark night sky. And the moon's children, the stars, were her friends also.

The night was still and peaceful, with just the tiniest hint of a breeze, making the flowers sway gently. The sky was ablaze. The moon and stars glowed with a bright ferocity, and Katara thought she could see Venus, the earth's sister planet, the evening star, sharing its light in the sky.

"Piękny wzrok," Katara breathed. It was the perfect night.

Zuko set his book down and turned off the lamp, but Katara saw a glint in the window before blackness enveloped the house. It was about time she showed up, Zuko thought irritably. Tomorrow would not be a good day for him. Being tired and aggravated was not a good combination for someone who had an emotional balance like Zuko.

And he was right. That morning was a very uncomfortable one.

Zuko barked at his Uncle when he tried to help him out of bed, snapped at Mr. Sidle when he pulled out Zuko's chair, and spilled hot tea all over his pants when he was trying to grab a slice of bacon. That was when Iroh lost it. He tried to hold in his laughter, for his nephew's sake, but just couldn't. The cause and effect reaction happened and Zuko, who was usually at fault for his own problems, stormed off to his bedroom.

Katara had witnessed the whole thing, being about to walk into the dining room with a plate of fresh biscuits, and could only wonder at why Zuko was in a horrible mood. Katara, trying to be helpful, carried a tray upstairs containing a few biscuits, butter, strawberry jam, and some more tea. Silently, she set them outside Zuko's room, where he was mediating and before turning away, she knocked on the door. Zuko thinking it was his uncle, grumpily opened the door and was further annoyed by seeing no one. But he saw a fleeting glimpse of brown hair and noticed the tray on the floor…

Katara hurried down the stairs. She would rather Zuko think Mr. Sidle or Iroh gave him the food, not the Polish servant, but then again didn't servants do things like that? It was common for servants to give food to their masters, wasn't it? Mother used to eat breakfast in bed. But mother was kind of eccentric. She ordered baguettes from France, curry from India, rice from Japan. Once, for a show, she bathed her horse in champagne. That was one thing that really got the neighbors talking. But Katara loved all of it. Every single strange thing her mother did she loved.

Thinking about fond memories, Katara walked to the music room for the first time with her dust bucket in hand. Walking into the room, Katara felt a rush of pure joy. Music, her passion! The walls were decorated with pale gold wallpaper containing a scene of Angels peacefully playing the harpsichord. The piano was stunning, sleek mahogany with intricate Fleur-de-lis patterns. It was and antique, probably originating from the early eighteen hundreds, and for the rest of her life she would think it easily the most beautiful piano she'd ever seen.

But what caught Katara's breath and made it hard to breath, was the smooth leather case in the corner. Without a second thought she knew what it was. The shape was so recognizable, something she would never be able to forget; the shape of a violin.

She walked towards it, praying fervently that the instrument she yearned for, wanted with her soul, was in the container. Solemnly, she untied the stale brown ribbons. Gently, she opened the case, and there lay peacefully a violin. Katara stood and stared at the beautiful instrument, and then held it for the first time in four months. Katara picked up the bow tossed carelessly in the case, and strummed a note. The instrument was horrifically out of tune, but that was easily fixed by adjusting the pegs in the pegbox.

Katara not knowing how to start wanted to play everything at once; Mozart's sonatas, Dvorak's concertos, Mendelssohn's poignant melodies.

Katara strung a note and then another, not yet knowing which song to play, but it formed with each passing note. And the song that formed was Ysaÿe's sonata no.3 "Ballade". The haunting song started slow, quiet, almost undecided. Katara played, the music echoing the feelings she felt. And she forgot who she was, where she was, what she was supposed to be doing. All that mattered was the music; to play the next note.

Zuko heard it, sitting by the window. He heard a beautiful, haunting sound laden with emotion. Iroh heard it also. Sighing contentedly, he sat still and listened to the music floating peacefully to his room. Right now, he would not disturb the young lady to ask her how she could play with such talent, passion, and feeling.

Zuko softly walked to the room where the sound was coming from, listening to the hum of notes building slowly, expressively. He opened the door an inch, and saw Katara standing with her back to him, playing like she was a thirsty man in the dessert with water. She played louder, faster, the notes rising, climaxing to a peak erupting from somewhere apart of her. And Zuko could only stare, wondering how, and why?

She ended the song, quickly, abruptly. It was over and before Zuko could turn away, she looked startled straight at him.

"I'm sorry," she yelped, "Please don't send me away. I just wanted to play one song. I'll never pick it up again, I'll never play it again…I'm sorry."

"No!" Zuko exclaimed, surprising himself, "You can't! You must keep playing. Why wouldn't you keep playing?"

"I'm only a servant sir, and I am not permitted. I'll never do it again," Katara said walking towards the door, leaving the instrument she loved.

"It's okay. I don't want you to stop, it was really…beautiful," Zuko said struggling with the words to say. This was not really his area of conversation.

"Thank you," Katara said softly. The last time her playing had been called beautiful was at the winter recital, a month before they were attacked. Alesky Yavinki told her she sounded like the last King's songbird. She didn't know if he actually meant it or not because he was in the process of trying to court her. The parents thought it a "suitable match" and a "smart match." She was rich, so was he and a high ranking army officer. What more could a young girl like Katara want? Love. And her grandmother was the only one who understood.

"It was so…nice…and I think if you stopped playing, it would be like sending an angel who fell to earth back to heaven." Oh shit, where did that come from? That did not come out exactly as he hoped. In response, she turned a bright shade of red and inclined her head slightly to the floor.

"Okay, I won't stop. But please, for now, don't tell anyone," Katara said shuffling towards the door. Zuko let her pass, but not before he saw the tears glinting in her large brown eyes, for happiness or sadness of the past, Zuko could not be sure.

Katara sat in the shade of a large elm tree in the late July heat and rinsed the laundry of the house. Zuko and Iroh were in London on a business trip, and would not be back until the beginning of August. Katara did not see much of Zuko in the two weeks that followed their meeting in the music room. Mr. Sidle after a conference with Iroh, decided it was time to clean the attic. And this project kept the servants quite busy, since it seemed as if stuff had been thrown in and nothing ever taken out, probably never cleaned since the house was built!

It was interesting though, because there were some very unique objects that were extracted from the layers of dust and debris, including something Sokka would like very much; a device that had a scrubber on one end and a plunger on the other. It was crafted to plunge the toilette and clean the sink at the same time. It obviously didn't work out very well.

The thing that caught Katara's eye though, was a dress, a black dress. It was old-fashioned, way out of style, with a high neckline, too long also. But she could change that, she could alter it. The smooth, creamy fabric, the flawless stitching was too wonderful to waste. Katara addressed Mr. Sidle about acquiring the dress, paying for it with part of her paycheck, and he agreed, knowing Zuko or Iroh had not brought it along and would not mind. It was evidently a prior owner's. He would of course later inform Iroh on this transaction and give Katara's money to him.

And so everything in the attic was accounted for and listed. The junk was thrown away and anything of interest or value kept for Iroh's inspection. A lot of the stuff they gave away before he could look at it because he would insist on keeping most of the random pieces of rubbish. Iroh definitely did not need any more antiques or nick-knacks. His room was littered with old vases, books, tea-sets, pictures, figurines, even a white rabbit coat and matching hat.

Iroh, in London, was actually browsing through an antique shop as the servants worked so hard to clear the litter in the house. Zuko was following along, taking a break from the endless talks with lawyers and such. His father at the moment was in jail for all his Hitler support and escapades with that crew, and being his one and only son, Zuko couldn't leave him to rot, as much as he wanted to. Azula wouldn't be joining them for this business trip. She would come on the next in the fall. But knowing Azula's fickleness, she was probably claiming nothing was her fault and father abused and threatened her to get his way. She was, of course, always the victim.

Needless to say, this whole thing was a mess and was going to take a lot of time to sort through. So, Zuko wondered through the shelves of antiques, thinking over all this, not really looking at what he saw. But moping towards a glass case, the afternoon sun glinted off an object serenely contained inside it. The object was a necklace, with a charm of a black and gold violin hanging on the chain.

"It's very pretty isn't it," the owner said noticing Zuko's interest in the object, "Very old too, and expensive."

"I'll buy it." And that's what Zuko did.

Two days later driving home in a Rolls Royce, Zuko carried a little package in his pocket, no one knowing about it except him. Zuko knew who he wanted to give it to, but he didn't know when or if he would ever have the chance to.

End! REVIEW!!

If you want to hear the song Katara was playing, just look it up on google video by typing in Ysaÿe's sonata no.3 "Ballade". My favorite version is the first one that pops up, the seven minute one. It doesn't actually show the person that's playing it, just a picture of a guy holding a violin.

By the way, I have seen a pure white rabbit coat. It must have needed a whole field of bunnies to make that monster. It was scary…very long and furry. I probably could have hid inside it.

Timeline:

Late June: Zuko comes home. Early July: Church outing. Few days after Church outing: Violin scene.

Mid July: Zuko and Iroh leave on business. Early August: They come home.