Disclaimer: I do not own ATLA.

Thanks to Evile Ravynne Queene of Glasse, Guest, Shojobaby, harmonicmonic, LovinZuko, Sun Daughter, the 3 FCP Judges, and AbsolutelyAbbie for reviewing:)

America, 1861

Katara's dress swirls at her feet as she turns to watch her brother stomp across their tenement housing. "What do you mean you were fired?"

Sokka scratches the back of his head. "I wasn't fast enough and was slowing down production. But it was to damn hot in the room. All of us were sweating. They were planning a strike next week, though it probably won't go well for them."

Katara sighs, resting herself in a chair, her chocolate curls pooling over her shoulders. "What are we going to do? Father forbids me to work in a textile mill, and there are too many immigrants like us trying to find jobs."

"We can try to venture west? I've been told that San Francisco is an up and coming city."

"Can you hear that?" Katara says suddenly; her hoop skirts gather dust as she hurriedly makes her way to the small framed window.

Sokka angles his ear to the window she is looking out of.

"Nothing, I hear nothing," Katara repeats.

"I don't un-"

"No clipping of carriages, no bustling of the Boston citizens. There is no talking or movement of any kind. It's like a hush has fallen over the city. Can't you hear it?"

Sokka moves to stand behind her, looking above her hunched body. Many people are crowded around a newspaper stand. Many are franticly looking up from the front page to a person standing besides them. New and old immigrants, businessmen, and household women are all converged together. No one is saying a word.

One form poking out of the crowd catches Katara's eyes. His cap is tucked under his arm, a solemn frown is plastered on his face, and he repeatedly folds the newspaper back and forth, creasing it. "Aang!" Katara yells, waving her hand back and forth to get his attention. "Aang! Up here."

"Miss Katara," he says formally, bowing slightly, "have you heard the grave news?"

Both her and Sokka answer him with a questioning frown.

"Not only have the Southerners seceded but now they've fired on Fort Sumter." Aang pauses, collecting his thoughts. "We are at war with our brethren."

America, Late 1861

Zuko wants to volunteer; he does not want to pay three hundred dollars as a scapegoat, forcing a poor citizen to take his place.

"You're an idiot, Zuzu."

His suite wrinkles as he slouches against the wall. His back hits into a portrait of a long dead relative. "Thank you for your unnecessary opinion."

"You're going to die," Azula says not looking up from her tea cup.

"I know how to hold a gun. What are you going to do for this war effort, knit?"

She taps a finger nail against the china, finally turning her piercing gaze on him. Her straight black hair is tied back in a blue ribbon. She is already showing her support. "Father will be most disappointed. Who will take over the family business?"

"Please Azula, you have been secretly running his railroad company for ages. I want no part in the back handed deals you participate in."

"If you die, I'll say 'I told you so.'"

"It's comforting to know you'll be present at my funeral."

"But why even bother?" Azula asks, looking up and seeming genuinely confused. "This war will be over in a few months, let some measly half rate immigrant fill your place. We won't be missing any of them since they keep coming. Or what about the poorer rats that live in the dirty slums? I'm sure there are enough people there to fill a whole regiment."

"I want to help."

"How honorable of you, Zuzu. Maybe you'll help improve the army and make sure we don't suffer another terrible defeat like the one at Manassas."

Zuko clenches his hands into fists. "You wouldn't understand."

He steps away from the wall, proceeding to walk towards the door and grip the gold plated handle.

"You're going to do it then," Azula says at last.

"I am," Zuko says sincerely, the knob already turning in his palm.

Quietly, Azula whispers, "Good luck."

America, 1862

Dear Little Sis,

Training is going well. The rifles we use are cumbersome, nothing like the pistols we used to use when shooting rats on the ship.

Everyone is really getting along here since we are all from similar walks of life. There is a rich man here though, which surprised most of us enlisted folks. The colonel says he'll make a fine general someday; he'll probably make the rank of first lieutenant in a few months. You would like him Katara; he's not snobby at all. We've become friends.

I heard that dad's regiment is starting to fight out in the western theater. It may be our turn soon.

Write back soon.

Love,

Sokka

000

Dear Brother,

I've tried signing up for a nursing course sponsored by Miss Dix, but she promptly dismissed me before I even said one word. I tried to make it clear that I have had experience at a local clinic in our neighborhood. She wouldn't listen.

It's so frustrating living in a man's world. I want to help the war effort, but my hands are tied.

Aang is afraid he is going to be drafted. I'm so worried for him; I told him to flee to British Canada, but he doesn't want to leave this country.

Please end this war soon.

Love,

Katara

000

Dear Little Sis,

Don't do anything stupid. I hear the hesitation in your writing. You know exactly what you can do. You are, aren't you? Please don't. Don't make this war harder on me or Dad. Stay safe back in Boston.

Zuko, the man I was telling you about before, has taken me under his wing. I'm finally getting a hand at using bayonets and pulling off multiple deadly shots before reloading.

Don't do anything stupid!

Love,

Sokka

000

Dear Brother,

When I arrive, call me Kato.

Love,

Katara

Zuko is the first person to greet Katara- no, Kato -with a warm and pleasant smile. Like Sokka stated in his letters, Zuko bears the insignia of first lieutenant, a higher ranking than his comrades. His features are sharp and alert, his golden eyes alight with possibilities; his black hair is slicked back out of the way.

He is very handsome; Katara is too selfish to think otherwise. But as Kato, she sticks out her hand and tries not to buckle under his hard grip.

Katara is not signed up to be a main soldier, and Zuko kindly directs her to the medical facility, a rough field hospital converted from an old hotel. Sokka's stern eyes never leave her back as she walks onwards to find the head surgeon.

Zuko's hair is an inky, shaggy mess when he pulls her into the shadows that night. His fingers grip her arm to tightly, but he quickly releases when she groans in a sudden spark of pain.

"I know you're a woman," he says, blunt and to the point.

Katara sucks on the inside of her cheek before she responds. She tries to deepen her voice and cover her chest slightly. "I don't know what you are insinuati-"

"You have the gait of a woman, Kato. Luckily, it wasn't to noticeable when you arrived. But I still noticed. If you want to learn to be a man, I will teach you."

"Why are you helping me?" Katara asks quickly, dropping any suspicions that she is a man. "You should be dragging me to the General to have me punished."

His golden eyes cut across her face. "I am not a cruel man. Besides, I have a hunch that if my sister was a kinder person, she would be in a similar position." His steady golden gaze latches onto her eyes, her startling blue eyes. Zuko's lips quirks upwards. "What's your real name?"

"Katara," she whispers. It will be the last time her birth name is spoken aloud.

Hesitantly, Katara walks back to their training camp, leaving her true identity behind. Katara is dead, buried and left behind in the hands of another soldier. She is now Kato, a man and a medical surgeon.

So this was orginally only going to be a oneshot, but AbsolutelyAbbie's amazing review convinced me to write some backstories on the characters. Hope this came out alright! What I've been studying in APUSH the past couple of weeks helped me write this chapter.

If you want a chapter more focused on Zutara, I am very open for writing a third chapter...

Please Review/Favorite/Follow:)