Chapter 23: Amends

With Azula dead and her fellow assassins arrested, the civil war was officially over. There would be aftermath and a lot of political bitterness, but at least the world wasn't at blows with itself anymore. I would spend the better part of the spring healing from the burns that Azula gave me. My own hands were so damaged I couldn't use them to heal my other body parts for some time. I was miserable for about a month before I had the pleasure of seeing Grangran arrive from the North Pole. She brought Paku with her, and he was able to speed the healing process.

The coming of spring was boring for me because I couldn't do much. Grangran and Paku helped to hide me from a vicious public, most of whom wanted me dead after all the wrong I'd done. Then I was surprised by another visitor shortly after Grangran's arrival. It was Freda, the tall, blond-haired peasant woman who had been my friend before her people turned on the Royal Circle. Logically she should hate me, but for whatever reason, she was able to forgive. Our first meeting was awkward, and although I still felt lingering anger at the actions of her people, I certainly no longer hated Freda herself.

"You know," said the peasant during one of her visits, "thanks to your help in ending the war, things have gotten a lot better for my people."

"Don't thank me—I encouraged the war," I replied guiltily.

"Well, at least Beka and I are working again, and our wages are pretty good—"

I cringed at the memory of firing Beka; not because I felt my actions necessarily wrong in that instance, but because of the pain I knew I had caused her family. "Look," I stammered, "I'm really sorry I got rid of your daughter that way. It's just that—"

"It's okay." Freda's pale blue eyes were alight with sincerity. "I understand what you had to do. I understand everything—not just that incident."

"Really?" I asked, more than slightly dubious. "I didn't think I'd be welcomed home so graciously after all I'd done. But you're all so kind and…understanding?" I phrased the last part as question. Quite honestly it didn't make any sense to me that Freda could know the first thing abut my private struggles.

"I know more than you think," said Freda. Her eyes twinkled solemnly, and she took my hand. "I have the same illness as you."

Did she mean the Bender's Plague? "Illness? All I have is an attitude problem." I thought about all I had done, all my super-controlling efforts and all my private fears of being helpless. I was so ashamed now, but I still didn't even understand why I acted the way I did. I supposed it was my natural disposition to be a pushy and stubborn worrier.

But Freda told me something different. I didn't remember my mother as well I used to; as years flew by, my old memories were fading. Yet still I was suddenly overwhelmingly conscious of motherly love shining in her eyes, and the radiance of it began to sprinkle luminosity into the deepest, darkest corridors of my consciousness. Still holding my hand affectionately, the woman said, "You're not a bad person, Katara. Just like everyone else in this world—you're a hurting person."

"I don't see how my hurts affect my actions." It sounded too much like excuse-making.

"Well I'm not excusing anything you've done—Heaven knows you've caused my people quite a bit of trouble." Her face darkened for a moment. "I don't mean to rub on sensitive places, ma'am. I just want you to know. My parents both abandoned me and my six brothers and sisters when I was only twelve. I've never been the same since. Later on I found a Chaperon who I fell in love with. But he…" Freda hesitated… "Well, once he found out I was going to have Beka, he was gone."

"That's terrible," I gasped, my over-active sympathy on the patrol again. "How old were you?"

"About sixteen." She fought back tears. "Those things that happened…they did things to me. They made me realize that I was the only one left in the family who was strong and committed enough to take care of the others. And from that day on, I dedicated my life to protecting my people and my daughter, keeping them from making mistakes at any costs."

When Freda spoke of her parents' abandonment of her, I thought of mother's death and father's absence when I needed him most. When Freda talked about taking care of her siblings, I remembered the way I had taken control of most of my tribe. I thought of Jet and even Zuko when Freda mentioned her treacherous Chaperon. And then I considered her seemingly reckless participation in the peasant revolts, and compared it to my own violent defense of the nobility. Freda really did understand me. It wasn't the same as pity or sympathy. Sympathy was just feeling sorry for a person not as fortunate as me; empathy was feeling a soul connection to a suffering person, because I had experienced the same hurts. Empathy was what Freda and I felt for each other.

"Freda," I asked tentatively after a long silence, "can you help me?"

"Of course, dear," she smiled. "But with what?"

"With…saying I'm sorry," I stammered. I needed to tell my friends how guilty I felt. I needed to repent. I knew there was nothing I could do to make it up to them—what with all the death I was responsible for—but I had to tell them how I felt.

"Oh. You mean making amends," said Freda. "Yes, I can give you a little advice. But the process is really between you and the person you offended."

Thus, for the remainder of my recovery, I spent hours discussing things with Sokka, Toph, and Zuko. The four of us would sit together almost every night, warmed by Iroh's best tea and the roaring fireplace, talking about our relationships. The discussions were unpredictable, and they could be rather scary. We could end up saying almost nothing, or yelling savagely at each other, or crying in each other's arms, or getting really crazy with games and jokes if Sokka was in an energetic mood. How they found it in their hearts to forgive me, I'll never know. But the permeating theme of our gathering was plain, messy honesty. I became practiced in the art; giving up my self-protective masks and withholding much less than I used to. I talked about Aang sometimes, about how much I missed him, and the others told me how they had coped with the terrible loss. I was, however, moving on from the grief as my community of friends got stronger. When I thought about things I had done wrong to my friends, I took one of them aside and we would privately discuss it.

I remember one time I was speaking with Toph alone. "Look, I don't really know how to say this, but…I'm sorry it seemed like I never really liked you."

Toph laughed. "It seemed that way? Let's face it—you never really liked me."

I scratched my head uneasily. "Yes…but it wasn't you, Toph. I just have some issues with people who don't listen to me. You were always so rebellious."

"Thank you. That's a big compliment."

I shook my head, smiling. "Anyway, I was wrong to mistreat you. I still don't know why exactly I want to control everything, or how the impulse can be stopped."

"Well, Sugar Queen, I'm sure you'll figure it out." The earth bender girl gave me an affectionate thwack on the shoulder and walked away grinning.

I even allowed myself to be honest with Zuko. My relationship with him was never as steady as some of my others, and I only had a faint idea of why. Sometimes I wanted almost desperately to be close to him. Other times I would get strange thoughts in my head that drove me hastily away from him; thoughts I couldn't justify; thoughts of how handsome, complex, and fascinating he was. After giving a short sigh at his intense eyes, my mind would be shocked. How could I think such things? Ashamed, I would become distant again for some time. But then I got to thinking about how much I owed him for his heroism, for his refusal to judge me, and for the things he'd taught me. I'd get close to him again. It was a difficult pattern, and I wasn't willing to keep it up.

At last I was well enough for travel. The scars on my arms and hands were completely gone. However, a scorch mark on my shoulder and several on my chest would probably remain there for years. I told Grangran and Paku that I would like to come and visit the North Pole. Of course I invited the gang too.

"Alright," Sokka said, folding his lanky arms. "We'll come. But only on one condition."

"What?" I asked, dreading something embarrassing.

"When we get there, you can't do all the tribe's work."

I laughed. "Don't worry, Sokka. This mother hen is done trying to guard a nest of eggs twice her size." In my heart, I hoped I could hold myself true to those words.

When we arrived in the North Pole, the tribe gave us a celebration party. Sokka, Toph, Zuko, and I trudged down the gangway from the steamship and came into the midst of a crowd of compatriots all holding torches, candles, or lanterns. There were tables set out on flat ground, filled with all sorts of good food; there were huge bonfires where people sat around and told stories; there were tall poles with colorful lanterns hanging down form them, lighting up the a makeshift stage where a funny play was staged. There was an abundance of smiles and laughter. Of course, many people eyed me darkly and refused to be in any way friendly; but many other people congratulated me for turning away from Azula. My heart swelled with happiness.

The night was long. We partied, ate, laughed, and talked far past midnight. Then slowly all the guests turned to go home. The party coordinators stayed behind to clean things up. I stayed as well, lounging by the last dying fire and trying to keep warm in the wintry air. Even though it was almost summer, the North Pole was still frigid. I wistfully watched the colorful lights dancing on the snow, while silence fell on the almost-empty party grounds.

"This looks familiar," said Zuko, coming over to warm his hands.

"Zuko. I didn't know you were still here," I said. Then I thought about what he had said. "What's so familiar about this?"

"Oh, just the cold and the tiredness. Reminds me of a few months ago at the start of the winter. The war was at a standstill. Everything seemed dead and icy."

I remembered it well. Just before Zuko's attack on the caves, I was still distraught about losing my Dad and Aang. I'd wandered in the wilderness all night. "I would have frozen to death that night," I said out loud. "Good thing that scout covered me and lit the fire."

Zuko looked at me at quizzically and gave a short laugh.

"What?" I asked, wondering if I said something wrong.

"Nothing." He was in an elusive mood tonight.

But I was persistent. "What? Come on, tell me. Give!"

Zuko shrugged and asked, "Well…what else do you remember about that night?"

I thought back. "Oh. When I left Azula frozen to the wall, I ran away thinking somebody was following me. They must have given up, though. Or else I was just imagining it."

"You weren't imagining it. I followed you." Zuko looked away, rubbing his hands together out of embarrassment. "It wasn't your scout that lit the fire. It was me."

I was shocked. I clearly recalled the warm woolen blanket sheltering my body, and the excited little red tongues of fire at my feet. Those small comforts had meant the world to me after such a horrible day. But it didn't make sense. It was one thing for Zuko to welcome me home after I agreed to help him take down Azula. But before that, when I was still his enemy?

"I don't get it," I confessed awkwardly. "Why would you do that? Why didn't you kill me or bring back so someone else could?"

The Fire Lord sat down beside me, letting the warmth from the dying fire creep up his legs. He said, "I wanted to kill you."

"What stopped you?"

"Aang. I remembered his advice about revenge. I never thought I'd be such a goody-goody," he said with a wry smile. "And as for taking you prisoner, it wouldn't have been strategic." He hesitated. "I felt like you needed to make your own decision. If you came back, I wanted it to be voluntary."

"Okay. Then what was the point of following me?"

"Maybe you could lead me to Azula."

"Is that all?"

Zuko stared, surprised by the question. I was surprised myself. What did I want Zuko to say? Confused and sleepy, I moved forward to get closer to the fire. But the ashes were dying down, and even the party coordinators were going home to get out of the cold. I shivered.

Wordlessly, Zuko moved closer and put an arm around me. I leaned into him, relaxing. I remembered, almost laughing, that there was a time when even touching Zuko disgusted me. I once threatened to take his life, and only days later I had come far enough to be able to give him a gentle hug. It was a small gesture in return for his helping me find the Southern Raiders. Perhaps even back then, when Zuko gave me those words of advice on Appa's back—perhaps even then, these feelings welling up inside had been alive.

"I know how you feel," the Fire Lord had told me after I refused to destroy my mother's killer. "When I let Appa free in Ba Sing Sey, I actually got sick because it was so unlike me to help the Avatar. I still ended up betraying you and Uncle. But that sickness really was the start of my personal renaissance. Maybe this will be a renaissance for you, too."

At the time I didn't think so. Now I did. I thought again about everything Zuko had done for me, saving my life when I didn't deserve it; not out of desire for control, but out of sacrificial love. That love had been challenging, insulting at first. But I was changing. Love was revolutionizing the way I saw everything. I stared up into Zuko's intense eyes. "You always were a revolutionary," I stated in a low voice.

"Oh, I not completely revolutionary," he answered, gently brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "Not all Revolutions end in Renaissance. But all Renaissances start with Revolution."

My heart and body was filled with a sleepy, mystical feeling. I could feel Zuko's hot breath on my skin. Then tentatively, I gave him a kiss. He returned it passionately, his arms wrapping around me. Our lips broke apart. The strange moment passed. Then I lay down on the ground to stare at the stars. Zuko stayed beside me, his momentary passion having faded into placidity, but keeping one arm under my head for comfort.

For a long time we stared up at the stars.

"Still cold?" asked Zuko.

I stretched and gave a yawn. "No. You warmed me all up."

Zuko rose and helped me to my feet. Then he turned and went back to the steamship, leaving me to wander back to Grangran's house and the peaceful, restful silence that resided there.