As it turns out, tomorrow—or at least the tomorrow as they had planned it—doesn't come. The entire canyon shaking awakes Zuko, and a fine layer of dust coats him as he sits up on his cot. Stumbling to the slab of stone filling his doorway, he pounds his fist against it.

"Toph? What is going on?" He doesn't receive a response before he's suddenly thrown to the floor, landing roughly on his right shoulder. He scrambles to his feet, frustrated and gathering a superheated flame between his hands to weaken the rock, but it's unnecessary. A man he'd seen in passing, dressed in Earth Kingdom greens, suddenly lowers the rock.

"Where is Toph?" Zuko demands, rushing out of the room as soon as he's able.

"She's fine, they're all fine, but we need to leave. It's not safe here anymore." His words are punctuated by yet another quake that rocks the entire hall and splits the stone walls into pieces as if the very cliffs were rejecting the structures. The other man—Zuko searches his brain for a name, coming up with something starting with an H—uses his apparent earthbending to rejoin the splitting stone, but it seems to strain him.

"And it's definitely not safe here. Go." Zuko isn't sure how much he trusts the earthbender, but he does what he orders, running down the hall towards the open space of the training area, now decimated by whatever force was destroying the temples. He just barely avoids a gargantuan chunk of rock that breaks away from the ceiling, sending flames against the ground that repel him forward faster than he can run. He lands unsteadily on his feet in the open, gawking at the sight before him.

Fire Nation war balloons hover in the wide space of the canyon, and the source of the shaking becomes apparent as he watches explosives shoot from them and collide with the various Air Temple structures. Dust and smoke clouds the air, obscuring what must be even more ominous balloons hovering nearby.

"Everyone is this way!" Haru exclaims, already running towards a crumbling barricade that shields Aang's group from the barrage. Zuko starts following him, but as an all too familiar form comes into view from the debris, he finds himself skidding to a halt. Haru doesn't look back, and he feels fire churn in the pit of his stomach as Azula's voice—shrill and unstable, so far from the way he remembers it—rings out over the sound of the explosions.

"Brother!" She calls, and he's already running towards the Avatar's group, predicting her oncoming blast from her perch on the nearest balloon before she delivers it, "I must admit, when father ordered me to kill you, I was shocked!" If the situation weren't so dire, he'd roll his eyes at her obvious jab regarding their father's lightning attack.

"Although, I shouldn't have been." He barely hears her as she fires a column of heat that he just barely gets in front of and deflects before it can completely destroy the barricade, "You're not even worth his time anymore. Not even good enough for father to get rid of personally."

"Leave, Azula. I'm giving you one chance." Is his only reply as he tries to shift his weight to accommodate for the splitting ground beneath him. The temple is only a few well-aimed blasts from falling off of the cliff completely, but he refuses to run from her this time. He's grown to become a better man—a better person—than he was before, and he has faith that that's enough to best Azula.

"Zuko!" A familiar feminine voice, full of fear and panic and a thousand other emotions he can't decipher in that moment, calls for him. He doesn't have the luxury of turning his head as Azula's next blast catches him off guard and explodes in front of him in a flurry of heat and power. It crumbles the ground beneath him and knocks him through the heavy stone barricade. Appa's white fur meets his back and he's grateful for the thick fur that cushions his fall, groaning as he slides to the ground below. Something feels broken in his side, perhaps his ribs, but adrenaline dulls the pain enough for him to slowly push himself onto his hands and knees. Katara gingerly lifts him off of the ground, seeming to sense the pain emanating from his ribs and avoiding touching him there.

"Come on, let's go." She says over the roar of Azula's flames and Appa's incessant groaning that makes his emerging headache throb painfully. He shakes his head and pushes away from her, only one hand lingering on her waist.

"You go. I have to do this." She's protesting before he can finish his rebuttal, and he tries to silence her, but there's too much chaos for his response to have any effect. The entire structure shivers, and he knows he has no time to explain to her why he can't run from Azula. None of them would understand, anyway, Zuko realizes as he looks to each member of the group gathered around the panicking bison.

"Zuko, we don't have time to argue about this, Toph and Haru made a tunnel we can leave and Appa—" His hands tangle in her thick hair, fury burning in him when he feels a few locks are brittle and scorched, and he silences her with a desperate, firm kiss to her frantic lips. He swallows the surprised squeak she lets out before pulling away, not looking back to see Hakoda's mouth turn down into a firm frown or Sokka's shocked gaze turn into an aggressive glare at his back. There's nothing he can say to them, not while Azula's scorching blue flames are turning their last defense to ash, and he knows that even if he'd had the most serene scenario possible, he probably still wouldn't have much to say. Let them process that as they wish.

Zuko breaks through the curtain of smoke Azula had inadvertently created, using the unstable debris as leverage to fling himself towards his sister's perch. He manages to grab hold of the rough fabric of the balloon's outer layer; using one hand to dissipate the plume of azure fire that Azula attacks him with. He pulls himself onto his feet to stand atop the balloon, and Azula leaps to meet him, every movement accented with powerful flames that fan around her like feathers haloing from a bird in flight.

The fact that they're much better matched isn't lost on Azula as attack after attack doesn't land, and her frustration only makes her flames larger. He lets her tire herself, defusing each blast she lobs at him until she's panting and her carefully tied hair is falling to one side with wild strands whipping around her face. Yet she laughs—cackles, he corrects himself, something is wrong with her and he finds himself standing on his toes as her unpredictability puts him on edge—and continues her assault until he gets close enough to land his own punch on his tiring opponent.

Their fists meet in an explosion of heat and energy, sending them flying in opposite directions. Zuko lets out pained grunts each time he impacts the unforgiving surface of the balloon, feeling his abused ribs shift painfully and when he tumbles awkwardly in an attempt to stop himself his head collides with the immovable force of the balloon. He hardly has time to focus on the blinding agony resonating from his forehead before he finds himself falling through the chilled morning air. It could almost be considered peaceful, all the noise and chaos fading as every passing particle in the air comes into sharp clarity and the stars in his vision sparkle brilliantly.

It's all interrupted as flames lick at the edges of his bangs, singeing them, and he turns his head to see Azula attempting to continue their fight, even as they both fall to what could likely be their deaths. He tries to respond, balling his hands into fists, but the lack of grounding combined with the full body agony throws off his aim and his retaliation misses by a wide birth.

And then there's a grip on the back of his tunic pulling him down onto something solid. He's engulfed in Katara's familiar presence as she hugs him close and watches his sister's descent with what he can only call protective fury. He watches with her as Appa weaves through the residual smoke, finding a sigh leaving his lips when she saves herself by repelling against the scorched wall of the canyon. If she were in any right state of mind, she might have been in pain, but instead she smirks at him as he disappears from her view. He can only note just how similar that smirk was to their father's, cruel and pompous, and how she was playing right into his game. She had been just as much a victim as he had been, falling for the idea that one day he would stop baiting them with his love if only they reached far enough. He pities her, seeing her still so obviously reaching so far.

"You're in for it now, Sparky." Toph murmurs. It draws Zuko's attention off of his introspection, and he finally bothers to look around at the other people sitting in the saddle with him. The group is far smaller now, cut down to Aang, Sokka, Toph, Katara, and Suki. He locks eyes with Suki, having an entire conversation in just one gaze. She's furious with him, her knuckles white as she grips both the edges of the saddle and Sokka's hand. Zuko's eyes follow the line of her arm to the tribesman, finding no less fury in him. In fact, the only people who seem to be happy to see him—and he's not sure one of them counts when one can't technically see—are Toph and Katara.

"Where should I start?" Zuko asks tiredly. He doesn't hear the answer as darkness veils his vision, unconsciousness claiming him swiftly.

Ember Island is a picturesque place. Pale sand borders the sea, the grains fine enough that it's particularly soft to the touch, but still being dense enough to not be kicked up by the wind and tossed onto those on the beach. The waters are clear enough to see straight to the bottom of the seabed, and the vibrant, colorful fish of the Fire Nation waters freely swim through the depths. Beyond the beaches, there are fields of lush grass that are shorn short in the more residential areas but grow long on the outskirts of the island. The temperature is much like the rest of the Fire Nation—humid and warm—and there's a constant wind that circulates the island that keeps it from being stifling. Overall, it could be considered a paradise.

Yet Katara couldn't enjoy any of it. None of them could, really, with the presence of that kiss hanging over them. It had been tame compared to their other kisses, quick and chaste, but it was enough to broadcast to everyone there that it was not their first kiss. It was too comfortable; too familiar. It spoke of too many kisses before it.

"Katara, what…what happened?" Zuko groans out, instinctively reaching down to his side and feeling the bruises. She stops his hand before he can do too much damage. It's the first time he seems coherent enough to speak to her, his gaze more focused than any of the times he'd stirred during their travel to Ember Island. He'd managed to guide them, somewhat, in his semiconscious state, but he hadn't responded to any questions. His ribs were battered—possibly broken—coupled with slight burns on his wrists and arms from dispelling his sister's attacks. He also quite plausibly had a concussion, which explained his previous incoherency.

"Don't touch your ribs. I've set them, but bone takes a long time to heal, even with my bending." She could only heal him in short bursts when she was doing such intensive repairs, and it only took a few minutes for her to tire and her chi to expend itself. Even with their unnaturally linked chi, she couldn't heal him any faster than she already was.

"Where—" He breathes out, his eyes flickering around the room and realization dawns on him. Red drapery, red carpets, red sheets.

Fire Nation. His brain helpfully supplies as his eyes finally settle on Katara. Smells like ocean. His thoughts are still fragmented and scrambled, but he manages to spit out, "Ember Island."

"We didn't have anywhere in mind to go, but you managed to led us here." The look on his face shows that he doesn't recall any of his instructions, and she's convinced that he at least has a mild concussion. She'll have to focus equally on healing that, as well as his bones.

"Where is everyone? Aang? Is everyone okay?" She pushes the unwieldy bangs out of his eyes and sees the deep, purpling bruise on the right side of his forehead.

"You're the only one who has a scratch on them." She answers, hand hovering over his bruise. Zuko makes a noise in response, reaching up to take her hand and clasping it between two of his own. He toys with her fingers, tracing down from each knuckle to fingernail.

"Why?" Katara asks, the question making far more sense in her head than it did to Zuko.

"Why did I fight Azula?" He questions back at her, his thumb pausing halfway down her left ring finger.

"Kiss me in front of them." His eyes—so intense and unwavering that she feels her skin prickle uncomfortably—stare into hers in answer. He doesn't need to verbally tell her why, and he doesn't get the chance to.

"Katara, come on, we need to—oh." Sokka stands in the doorway, gripping the aged wood tightly as he appraises Zuko and his gentle hold on Katara's hand, "He's up."

"Not right now, Sokka." There's a conversation in there that Zuko knows he's missed, looking between the siblings, "This is no time for your stupid duel threats." The tribesman huffs loudly, his arms crossing his chest and his mouth opening as if he's about to rebut her, but Zuko interrupts him.

"He wants to duel me?" There's more amusement in his tone than there probably should be, "It wouldn't be a very fair fight."

"Well, yeah, but I'd wait for you to heal first. Then I'd kick your butt." Sokka chimes, but Zuko shakes his head. He instantly regrets the movement as his entire world spins out of focus.

"I meant it would be unfair to you." Zuko mumbles, gripping his head and blinking, "And I'm not going to fight you over your sister. She's not something to be won in a swordfight." She seems to respond well to that statement, resting her free hand on Zuko's bare stomach. There's enough space between her hand and his ribs, but it still makes him instinctively jolt.

"Whatever. I'm not buying your whole noble gentlemen act." This was exactly what Zuko had feared when he had decided telling everyone was for the best. He knew he would lose some progress with them, if not all of it. He had never gotten particularly close to Sokka, not like he had with Katara or Aang, but the loss of his wavering trust still hurt in a way he hadn't expected.

"Sokka, I know you must hate me because of the past and—" Sokka makes a noise between a groan and a shriek that makes Zuko's jaw snap shut.

"Past or not, you were getting it on with my sister!" Sokka says, flailing his arms about animatedly, "I don't care who you are, I'm going to duel you over that!"

"Sokka." Katara warns, but it falls on seemingly deaf ears.

"I mean if you don't want to duel, I can challenge you to a—what's it called—Agni Koi?"

"Kai." Zuko corrects, but doesn't otherwise answer him, leaving most of the bickering to the siblings. The conversation descends into nearly incomprehensible squabbling that makes Zuko's head throb, and he shifts to look out the window at the land he knew so well. It was dusk, the sun hanging just above the horizon, and he can make out Aang, Suki and Toph slowly making their way up from the adjoining beach. They seem settled, the path up to the beach house being worn enough to indicate that they'd walked it several times, and he wonders how long he'd been out for.

"Aang is going to want to talk to him." Zuko turns his head, looking back at the two of them to find Sokka staring him down far less playfully, "He seemed pretty serious."

"Zuko has a concussion, he's not in any condition to—" The Prince waves off her words. Injured or not, he had never let that deter him from his duties. As far as he was concerned, attending to the Avatar was his only duty at this point in time.

"I'm ready to talk." Sokka nods, leaving the room before Katara can try to convince him otherwise. Silence follows, veiling the room and making the remaining pair shift awkwardly in it. Aang was unpredictable in his reactions, his boyish nature and his upraising under the monks making it difficult to predict which side of his personality he would side with.

"Zuko." As it turns out, he sides strongly with the monk's teachings, being as calm as Zuko has ever seen him when he speaks, "We weren't sure you were ever going to wake up." Aang says evenly, looking him over. Although the strange calmness was foreign to him, he recognized the tightness in the boy's posture. He looked like he was prepared for a fight, shifting on his toes with his hands held at his sides and fingers spread wide. He could transition into any number of air bending forms from that stance.

"This doesn't change anything, you know. I'm still your firebending teacher." Zuko sighs. It seems to put Aang somewhat at ease, and he stills his feet. His hands don't relax, though, and those are far more dangerous.

"I know." He leaves it at that. Katara tries to add her own input, reaching out as if to touch him before thinking better of it and recoiling, and the conflict on her face is so painful for Zuko to see that he can't stand to look at her. Instead, he stares out the window to watch the retreating sun. Neither of them had been privy to the conversation Aang must have shared with Suki, but they're sure Aang knows far more than what their kiss had alluded to.

"Then it's settled." Zuko's simple words say just as much as Aang's had, and Katara can do nothing more than sigh. Their world was already complicated, and they'd seemed to have succeeded in somehow tangling it up further.

It was something that was better left in knots, Zuko decides.

Katara's moans, his name on her breathless lips, become dreamlike memories to Zuko, something he wouldn't believe were real if he couldn't still feel her smooth skin under his when he imagined her at night. He throws himself into training Aang to fill his time and when the comet comes, he's so confident in his pupil that he doesn't once fear defeat. And when Zuko feels he might be dying after Azula's lightning strikes him, Katara is there, like a spirit poised to guide him to the other side. He's not entirely against the idea. Things would be easier then, at least, yet she brings him back and just as he's sure he's finally free of the confusion and the knots and the pain, he's back.

Days pass as he recovers, both mentally and physically. His body feels beaten beyond repair, the nerves in his extremities still reacting more sluggishly than he'd like due to the lightning's damage, but his mind is what is truly frayed. Not only is the stress of the incoming coronation weighing on him, but he also can't help but repeatedly hope that it's Katara's face he'll see when a servant pushes open the doors to his chamber. It never is, and he knows it's for the best, but his craving for her refuses to believe it.

He shrugs on his outermost robe, securing the sash around his waist, and he can't help but pause as he catches sight of the pale scars on his wrists. They were faded and far too light for anyone to notice if they weren't looking for them, but he feels a startling ache in his chest as he traces the inside of his wrist with a thumb. A servant is tying his hair back into a tight topknot when Hakoda's form appears in the doorway. Zuko sees him in the mirror, eyes flickering nervously between his own reflection and Katara's imposing father. He swallows nervously.

"You're dismissed." Zuko fumbles with his words, brushing the servant off.

"My lord—" Zuko shakes his head to silence the budding disagreement. His topknot is hardly perfect, the servant trying to rush to finish, and when he leaves Zuko feels his hair start to fall.

"You didn't need to do that." Hakoda says, stepping into the room and shutting the doors behind him. It's a feat with how heavy they are, but Hakoda is powerfully built.

"I figured this would be a private discussion, Chief Hakoda." Zuko hastily adds his proper title. He was mere minutes from being crowned Fire Lord, he needed to grow accustomed to formal niceties. Hakoda smirks, stepping up to stand behind Zuko and tugging out the useless tie in the young ruler's hair.

"Yes, but I'd rather not make you late to your coronation. I don't intend this to be that long of a talk." Zuko fidgets as Hakoda gathers Zuko's unruly hair into one large hand easily. The topknot he forms is perfectly centered, and he even manages to capture those few stray strands that usually try to free themselves.

"Thank you." Zuko says, fretting with the hem of his sleeve, "About me and Katara—" Hakoda sighs heavily, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Doing that with someone's daughter without asking their father's permission was dishonorable." Forced, heavy words leave the monarch. He's had too much time to think about this.

"I can't say I would have agreed to it, but I also can't say Katara would have listened to me." They both smile somewhat fondly at that, "Are you two still…" As poised a man as Hakoda is, he suddenly seems awkward, looking off to the side and waving his hand absently. A flush rises to Zuko's cheeks.

"No." Zuko answers too quickly with a hint of bitterness, "I've heard rumors about her and Aang, but me and Katara? Not anymore." Too complicated. It had been too complicated then, and it was impossibly complicated now.

"Then maybe I should be having this talk with him." Despite how dryly Hakoda says it, the small upturn at the corner of the man's mouth tells Zuko that it's a joke. Yet it still makes something jealous burn in him despite having no right to feel such a way. Aang was good for her. It would be easy with Aang, and Katara deserved that after so many struggles. They all deserved that, he muses, idly flicking aside one of Mai's hairpins.

"Maybe." Hakoda's smile dies, turning to a concerned frown.

"You still feel something for her." Hakoda says. A halfhearted denial is falling from Zuko's lips before he can even understand what he's saying.

"I can't afford to." Hakoda doesn't dispute that. The man is a tactician, he knows how to analyze a situation and Zuko knows that he sees how complicated this is. He'd seemingly been willing to let that slide, though, with how leisurely he'd approached the situation. With a distant feeling of awe, Zuko wonders if Hakoda had been coming to give his blessing.

"Your son was going to duel me over her, after all." Zuko sighs exaggeratedly, standing from the vanity and stepping away. He flattens wrinkles in his robes that don't exist, "I can't afford to take that risk." Hakoda chuckles, nodding.

"Very true. You're a smart boy." There's a silent understanding between them as Zuko bows respectfully, following the older man to the door, "Smart enough to handle this." Hakoda opens the door for him and Zuko's brow furrows as he tries to understand which this he means. The duties of the Fire Lord? The trials of rebuilding a nation? His tumultuous maybe-relationship with Katara? He doesn't seem to be planning on explaining further, and Zuko doesn't prod, heading down the hall to finally meet his destiny.

The crowning hairpiece seems to weigh more than he'd ever thought it would, making him hesitate for just a fraction of a second before he rises to his feet and says the words he'd practiced repeatedly as he tried to push Katara's gaze from his brain. Aang's presence should be a comforting one, his kind smile bearing nothing but good will, but all Zuko can focus on is how he envied the Avatar. Why he envied him, he decides not to dissect.

The cheering of the crowd, all dressed in greens, reds and blues of the separate nations, seems to die as he finds Katara in the crowd. She's not looking at him, her eyes trained on Aang, but it's the strained smile on her face that tells him all he needs to know. They both live in cages, their roles defined by what their duties require of them, hers is just far less gilded.

The End

A/N: Here we are! The most unhappy ending I've ever written in my life, but what are you gonna do? I'm really happy to have written this with all of your support, and I'll probably write another Zutara story at some point, but this is it for now, at least as far as the main story goes. There will be an epilogue added fairly soon as an eleventh chapter. It might be much shorter than the actual chapters, though, as it is an epilogue. ~ Jiggle.