A/N: Day Three is here! Once again probably my favorite day.
"You can come up with the story tonight," said the little girl. She spoke over the raucous laughter and upbeat fiddle music playing right outside their window. Not for the first time in the past hour and a half, the sitter wished it would stop already. Hadn't everybody partied enough?
She didn't even know why there had been a party today chalking it up to the fact that everyone was in town at the same time and had nothing better to do. She'd gotten some good food out of it anyway, and she'd made some new friends and gotten to experience a little more Fire Nation culture. Beyond that, she really just wanted to get these kids in bed and go to sleep, and the way things were looking, they could ask for twelve stories in a row, and the party would still be going strong when she finished.
Right now, she'd prefer not to tell even one, but there were the eyes again. Even her brother looked a little more interested now after yesterday. Resigned to her fate, the sitter flopped into a wooden chair and sighed.
"I choose, huh? No princesses or vampires tonight?"
The boy shrugged. "Put them if you want, I don't really care. Just make it a longer story this time. You last two were way too short."
She blew forth a puff of air. "Right… okay, so this is a story about…"
She thought hard for a premise, but for all that she tried to be creative, everything that came to her was either boring or made no sense whatsoever ('chickens with backwards beaks? Is that really the best I can do? Man, I really am not creative at all, am I?').
"A story about…"
The sound of whirring broke through her haze and brought her to attention. She glanced out the covered window, just able to make out a few men with drinks in their hand and a single headlight shining through the fog. The sitter smiled, a lightbulb going off in her head.
"This is a story about motorcycles," she said. "This is a story about a man who rides a motorcycle and a… a woman who runs a small shop."
The children looked expectantly at her.
"…and their names were Zuko and Katara, of course."
It was the end of another long day at the bookshop. The kind of day that makes you feel like a stack of encyclopedias has been dropped on your head and you have to work through the pain to finish up before closing. Otherwise, you lose money. Being the sole proprietor of a corner bookshop meant an endless string of contractors trying to buy up the property, since according to them, the chain bookstores are just going to run her out of business anyway.
But Katara carried on through the strife, backed by a small, but loyal base of customers and an all-encompassing love of books that would have her chaining herself to the door in protest before she let any big time lawyers in suits take her store from her.
The very generous anonymous donations credited to her bank account once a month were also a big help.
The guttural roar of an engine peeling down the street reminded Katara that she had yet to thank her not-so-mysterious benefactor for his most recent check. She had an additional thought to again him again to stop sending them, because there was no point in investing in what any sane individual would call a worthless business endeavor. Of course, she'd learned long ago how useless it would be.
"I can afford it," he'd say, "and I'm not in it for myself anyway."
Katara smiled wryly. That was Zuko for you, good old people pleasing motorbike riding bad boy Zuko, who parked outside of her door with headlights blaring, and stepped off the curb like a black shadow outlined in white. Katara traced his form with her eyes and let out a sigh.
He was driving without a helmet again.
"How many times do I have to tell you," she called out when he entered, "more bike-related injuries happen when you aren't wearing protection than when you are."
"If I'm going at seventy miles an hour, and I get thrown off, I don't think a helmet is going to stop me from breaking every bone in my body," he said.
"Maybe not, but it'll keep your face looking nice for the funeral."
She slid off the ladder onto the carpeted floor behind her desk. Zuko was messing around with the chocolate bar display, and if Katara didn't know better, she'd think he was about to slip something into his pocket. She hoped if he did, he'd be nice enough to save it for later when she needed a snack.
His other hand fidgeted with his keys. He did that a lot of the time, and as easy to read as he usually was, that was something Katara could never figure out. He never had a set mood for it. He could be happy and joking or quiet and melancholy. Either way, that tiny slab of metal would be caught between his fingers, and he'd been running the pads along the smooth end in turn with the bumpy end.
He did it now while pointing his sharp gaze at the cookbook section, and unless he had some deep-seated hatred for cupcake recipes, there was something serious going on. Reputation for brooding aside, Zuko was never like this.
"Hey." Katara pressed a hand into Zuko's leather clad shoulder. "You okay?"
He closed his eyes.
"I'm worried about you."
Katara blinked. "Me? Why would you be worried about me?"
He had been coming close to meeting her eye. He had turned his head straight and was trailing up from the desk to her face. Her question made him stop, and pushed him away, but Katara wasn't about to let that happen.
"Come on, don't be that way," she said. "I know you like being the mysterious guy and all, but you can't just tell me something like that and expect me not to ask questions."
His fingers began to flex, and Katara thought he might break those keys if he wasn't careful. As it was, he looked like something deep inside of him was breaking, and Katara hated to admit that she wouldn't know what to do if that were true. If only Zuko was a little more open with her, or anyone for that matter.
"Look, can I just…" he stopped and swallowed. "I was hoping I could take you home tonight. I do have a helmet in the back and you can use it."
He had shoved both his hands into his pockets, which Katara could tell from the bulging he had bunched into fists. It was hard for her not to break the air of tension around them and laugh, but Zuko was just so cute when he got like this. His face turned even redder than the angry skin around that scar of his.
"My place is only a block away," she reminded him. "I can walk myself fine."
"Yeah, but… I'd feel better if you'd let me."
He wasn't going to elaborate. Not without being pressed. That was clear to Katara from all these months of knowing him, from the first time he came in to buy an obscure book on mechanics that none of those chain stores carried, to the day he worked up the nerve to ask her out for a cup of coffee, to the morning she received the first 'anonymous' check after those contractors showed up again to prod her about selling. He opened up only when he wanted to, and most of the time, he did not want to.
"Is there something you're afraid of?" Katara asked. It seemed like a good place to start, and the way Zuko bit his lip and flinched, she had every reason to believe she was on the right track.
"I don't know," he answered. "I just… I was talking to my sister the other day, and she mentioned you. I didn't like it, so…"
He wouldn't go any further than that, but he didn't really need to. Katara only knew Zuko's younger sister by name, and by his description of her as a cold, sadistic pathological liar who didn't have a single nice bone in her body. Not exactly the type of person you wanted to be around on a cold night in an empty street, but even if she really was as bad as Zuko claimed, Katara wasn't afraid. She had years of martial arts training, plus a trusty taser that her overprotective brother had bought for her when she moved out on her own. She could take one crazy biker girl if she had to.
And so she'd done what she could to calm Zuko's fears, eventually accepting a compromise where he got to walk her home. Much as Zuko loved that bike of his, Katara had never been all that keen on them. Too fast and too dangerous for her liking. She much preferred her own two feet, or maybe a car.
"Call me if anything funny happens," Zuko said at the door. He refused to leave until Katara swore it to him.
She went up to her apartment smiling all the way. It was a good thing Zuko had left when he did, because her blush was beating his by a longshot. One of these days, she swore she'd kiss that beautiful face of his. She just had to work up the nerve first.
Her apartment was small, yet neat, colored in shades of blue and white from the navy blue throw rug to the sky blue comforter. Katara threw off her jacket and her shirt, stripping all the way down for a quick shower before bed. The leftover noodles that would have been her dinner went in the garbage. She just wasn't in the mood to eat tonight.
In her favorite nightclothes, Katara walked into her bedroom, where a thick burlap sack was flung over her head, and a rough hand pinched a nerve in her neck before she could even think to try and fight back.
She came to in a groggy state, the sack still tight over her head, constricting her breathing. She was in the air, bumping up and down in time with the footsteps of whoever was carrying her. Katara forced herself to stay calm as soft voices unleashed vicious snickers, and at least one person gushed about how the 'she' was going to 'cut that girl's pretty face wide open.'
Katara swallowed, flexing wrists that had been bound by heavy rope. A quick check of her feet told her they were in a similar state, the rope tight around her ankles, which were numb from the lack of blood flow.
"Drop her," a harsh, female voice commanded.
Katara gasped as she was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. She squirmed around like a headless chicken, amid the laughter of the gathered men. A hush fell over them at once, and Katara could only guess that their leader had silenced them.
The sack was removed, and Katara's eyes burned in the dim lighting. She appeared to be in a warehouse of some kind. Seagulls were crying overhead and a bell was ringing in the wind. Ten large, hairy men in enough leather to kill a thousand cows crowded around her. Their eyes and their leering grins spoke of obvious and despicable intent. If Katara could just get her hands and feet free, she'd deal with them all in quick order. As it was, the best she could do was a defiant glare.
Their leader was a young woman, as young as Katara to her great surprise.
But no, it wasn't really that surprising, because Katara didn't need a name or anything else to know who this was.
"Azula," she whispered.
The woman smirked.
"It seems my brother has told you about me." She stepped off the seat of her bike to walk around her captive. "Too bad he wasn't smart enough to keep you away from that apartment of yours. He should've known I'd find out where you live. I have eyes and ears all over this city."
Katara scowled, her teeth bared as if to challenge her. Azula laughed.
"Oh don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. Not yet anyway. I'm just waiting for my brother to show up. Then we'll see."
"Why are you doing this?" Katara snapped at her, lunging at Azula's feet, though there was nothing she could've done beyond spitting on the other woman's boots. "Why did you kidnap me? How is that going to help you with… whatever it is you want?"
Azula sank to one knee, and pulled Katara's chin up with one long finger.
"I guess you haven't figured out yet how much my brother cares about you. I know he's the only reason that eyesore of a shop is still running. It would've sunk months ago if it wasn't for him, so don't tell me you think he'd invest in just anyone's failure of a business."
Katara snapped her teeth, almost getting the tip of Azula's finger before she pulled away. Azula walked back to her bike, decked out in streaks of blue flame and painted black and gold.
"You're just going to stay here with my friends until Zuko shows up," she said, her eyes gleaming. "Don't worry, I promise they won't hurt you."
'Not yet,' was the obvious message behind the smile she wore.
She turned away, letting her gang close the circle around Katara. She fought against her bonds harder than ever, but that just seemed to make them worse. Though she could just about reach her back pocket, her taser was back at home, and they may have even taken it with them, just to be safe. Gravely voices hissed in her ear, and sweaty palms reached down to grasp her arms, and in this pitiful, vulnerable position, Katara was helpless, of all but to look to the sky and wish she was dreaming.
A blinding light filled the room, and an engine roared over the men's shocked cries. A motorbike flew through the air over a shorter man's head and landed hard on the ground by Katara. The driver needed a good five feet to break, but then he whipped right around in the direction of the men and stepped on the gas. Like flies, they scattered, some of them tripping over their own feet to avoid getting run over.
The rider stopped in front of Katara, who processed golden eyes and a helmetless head of black hair first, and then the knife blade running through her bonds.
"I knew she was up to something," Zuko muttered to himself. "I shouldn't have left you."
He freed Katara's hands and went to work on her ankles.
"Worry about that later," she said. "Let's just get out of here."
When she could walk again, she hopped onto the bike behind Zuko. She cast aside her distaste with motorbikes for now. Getting out of this crazy place alive was the most important thing, and she'd take a potential death trap over Azula any day of the week.
An engine that wasn't Zuko's revved up, and when Katara turned, Azula was on her bike, a demon's grin on her face as she lifted off the brake and careened in their direction.
And of course, she didn't wear a helmet either.
Katara clung to Zuko. "Go. Go!"
He went. They exploded out of the warehouse, bits of wood flying through the air and catching onto Katara's hair. Azula was hot on their trail, coming closer and closer into Zuko's rearview mirror. Zuko sped up, so fast that Katara thought her arms might come out of their sockets. To counter it, she held Zuko tighter, and even though she was on a motorcycle going a hundred miles an hour with a psychopath chasing after them, and any second now, any one of those things could kill violently kill her, a small part of her couldn't help noticing how hard Zuko's body was to the touch.
'Focus Katara,' said the sensible side of her brain. 'You can lust after Zuko later. Right now, focus!'
Zuko made a sharp turn left, onto a densely populated street. Katara buried her scream in his jacket as he swerved this way and that, missing people by a hair's breath, while behind him, Azula was much less subtle, and only avoided running into anyone herself because Zuko had scared them off. They went up a wooden ramp, over a small car and back onto the street. Sparks flew off of Zuko's tires.
They came upon another empty side of the docks and bumped along on poorly placed plywood. Azula was closer than ever before, close enough to grab a fistful of Katara's hair if she wanted to. She seemed too busy trying to run them down to consider it, and any second now, she would be level with them.
"She's coming!" Katara yelled, and if Zuko answered, she couldn't hear it over the engines.
The next move he made, Katara would be beating him over the head for later. The end of the dock was rapidly approaching, and if he didn't turn now, he was going to run them into that yacht up ahead. Zuko changed course, just a tad to the right so they could fly up the ramp onto the boat's deck. Azula followed, caring even less for collateral damage than Zuko did. Katara was pretty sure Azula deliberately ran down that empty drink cart that Zuko dodged, just to show what she was going to do once she caught them.
"Zuko…" Katara lowered her face, so that just the sky and the top of Zuko's head were visible. Then she closed her eyes.
"Hold on tight," he said.
Katara didn't think she could hold on tighter than she was, but she managed it somehow without breaking Zuko's back, as he skidded to a halt right in front of the rail at the stern. They stopped an inch away from going over, but Azula wasn't so lucky.
She had maybe a second to process what was happening before she went over, her scream cut off when she hit the water. She surfaced with an even louder shriek, cursing the names of Zuko and Katara as Zuko restarted the engines and got them both out of there.
He didn't take Katara straight home. He drove them over the beach into the mountains, stopping at the edge of a cliff where the rising sun was like a pale jewel in the sky, and even a night person like Katara could appreciate the beauty of it. She stepped off the bike on wobbly legs and shielded her eyes with her hand.
"Wow…"
Zuko's taller form cast a shadow over her.
"I'm glad you like it," he said. "I guess this is part of my apology for getting you into all that. I'll put the rest of it in your account first thing tomorrow."
Katara glanced at him over her shoulder. "It wasn't your fault, you know."
Zuko shook his head. "I should've protected you. I knew Azula knew about you and that she'd try to do something to you to get to me."
"And did you forget that I have a black belt?" Katara asked teasingly. "They got the jump on me, and they probably would've done the same to you. I'm just glad that you showed up when you did. I'd probably be toast if you hadn't rescued me."
She faced him, hands clasped behind her back as she stood up on tip-toes.
"So, is it okay if I thank you for saving me?"
She brought her face closer to Zuko, her lips slightly parted and her eyes lidded. Zuko was trembling, and his hands were on the keys, but he wasn't going to run from her, and she wasn't going to stop. With warm breath on their faces, their lips joined together, and-
"Oh no, no way!"
The boy jumped out of bed, spreading his hands out in front of him multiple times to make his point.
"What's your problem now?" asked the sitter, who didn't quite like being interrupted when she was on a roll. That film reel she'd seen the other day was still fresh in her mind, and they were just a couple of seconds away from the ending scene too. Why couldn't he just wait before complaining?
"There is no way I'm listening to a kissing story. No way, no how."
"Yeah!" shouted the little girl, standing with her brother for perhaps the first time since she'd been alive. "Kissing is gross!"
"Super gross," said the boy.
"Mega gross!" agreed the girl.
"Ultra gross."
"Grosser than gross!"
"The grossest gross that ever grossed!"
"Alright, alright!" The sitter was just about to tear her own hair out. "I won't tell anymore kissing stories, okay?"
The kids thought it over.
"Well …okay!"
"Okay!"
The boy jumped back into bed and pulled the covers over his head, feigning snores as his sister tried her best to copy him. They both played at sleeping for some time, until their phony snores tapered off and their breaths evened out. By then, the music outside had slowed to a stop, and the guests were saying their goodbyes. The sitter walked out of the room as the firelight faded, and she shook her head at the sleeping children.
"Kids…"