ARC 2: A War Divides Their People

DAY 13: Candles

With the snow melting and his men preparing for travel, there is a lot to consider.

There are far too many things between them.

Katara's involvement in the war and his own conflicting feelings, have muddled everything up (something tells Zuko that marrying a Water Tribe savage and having her bear his children will not end his banishment anytime soon). He should interrogate her and yet he makes love to her night after night. He doesn't struggle for answers or vital information (though he knows practically every stupid thing Sokka has done in his entire life).

Part of him is eager to see the end of this stormy detour, but this silent bubble of contentment will only last as long as they are stranded in the mountains.

Zuko finds himself praying for more snow.

In the chaos and commotion of packing, nobody has remembered to administer her bending suppressant. Katara can hardly believe her luck. She feigns sleep for hours in an effort to remain out of sight and out of mind (which is not so difficult after all, overwhelming exhaustion still drops in on her from time to time) and amazingly, it works.

She's almost sad to go. Zuko has spoken so long and at such great length about his Uncle that she is almost eager to meet General Iroh herself. And yet she knows she will never escape is she stays that long (surely someone will remember her presence at some point). She fears she won't have the will to escape much longer; sometimes she wonders if anything really exists outside of the two tents that have been her entire world for weeks (for so long she's been fighting so hard; it's so easy to forget the strain and be with Zuko).

Katara touches her necklace and reminds herself of why she must fight.

At some point, she actually drifts off to sleep. When she wakes again, Zuko is meditating by the fire. A dozen candles surround him, each growing and shrinking steadily with his breathing.

Firebending is so different, she thinks, just like everything else about them. His strength comes from his breath, hers depends on the cycles of mother moon. And yet she is so tired of thinking in terms of black and white, fire and water, Fire Nation and Water Tribe.

Katara slips out of the blankets and goes to Zuko because she knows this will be their last night. Tonight she will escape (or she will be in chains and her freedom will be lost forever).

Katara straddles him, breaking his trance. He doesn't seem surprised.

"Everything will change." he says, as if she is reading his mind.

"We have right now." she tells him, drawing his mouth down for a kiss.

He hesitates. Indecision is clear on his face. It makes her sad to know that he has been feeling this too, the realization that this perfectness cannot last outside their little tent.

"Zuko," she says, and repeats his name until he looks at her, "Right now, there is no war. Right now, there is no Fire Nation or Water Tribe. Right now, there is you and I and spirits help me, but I love you."

There are tears in her eyes (she thinks there might be some in his too).

"Katara," he says, and his voice is so full of pain, "We can't do this."

But she doesn't care, kissing him hard on the lips (telling the truth has made her giddy and defiant and she feels like she could take down a dozen men and still carry Zuko home for supper).

"Do you love me?" she asks.

He doesn't even try to lie. "Yes." he says, returning her kisses with bruising fervor and then they don't need words anymore.

They have the presence of mind to blow out the candles, but little else. Their love making is more like fighting, but it seems inconsequential at the moment (though they will both hurt tomorrow and smile at the memory in the days to come). Their second time is softer, more passionate (they don't bother keeping their voices down on this final night in the mountains); the third is quiet and slow, shallow thrusts coupled with soft admissions of love and yes, right there, Zuko.

And yet, it all comes to an end.

Katara lies awake, long after Zuko's limbs have stilled and his breathing has steadied. He murmurs her name from time to time in his sleep and it knocks the breath out of her chest each time. She thinks about how tomorrow night, when she will sleep alone and far away from the shelter of his arms (she doesn't cry).

Katara forces herself to rise out of the bed, don her clothing (though she wears Zuko's shirt because her's is lying on the floor in pieces). She rummages through the trunks of his belongings, settled temporarily at the farthest edge of the tent, and unexpectedly finds her things. Katara laces on her boots, pulls her Water Tribe tunic over Zuko's. She leaves her turtle-duck hairpins at the top of the trunk (he'll find them in the morning; leaving him something in lieu of a goodbye is better than nothing at all).

She adds a log to the fire, pulls blankets over her prince. She blows him a kiss, then falls into a bending stance.

Long distance bending is not easy, but Katara will force her body to obey. She conjures up a fog, sags from the sudden exhaustion. Her stomach flips and she fights back nausea (an unexpected reaction, but there is no time to worry about it). The guard outside the tent is disarmed with a quick water whip and she steps outside. Katara is kind enough to drag the guard inside, instead of leaving him to hypothermia. She is quickly on her way.

The snow is slushy beneath her boots and the moonlight shines through the fog (she hasn't seen the moon in longer than she can remember). Katara bends a path clear of snow and quickly makes her way past the camp and through the hundred yards to the tree line.

Katara has no food and no mount, she is weakened and heartbroken, but she is free. She grins, prepares herself for a rigorous hike and—

A sentry sounds the alarm.

She jumps, whirls, but there is no sentry remotely near her. The man's shout is cut off mid-sentence. Katara disperses the fog.

She expects Earth Kingdom forces, maybe Water Tribe warriors, anybody who would have been a friend and ally.

She finds bandits instead.

Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation, even a vaguely looking Water Tribe man stalk through the camp. Weapons gleam in the moonlight, one man is pulling a woman out of a tent and covering her mouth before she has a chance to scream (they spare her, but slit the throat of her male companion).

Bandits. Mercenaries. Rapists (there is only reason they'd spare a woman solider).

Katara turns her back on the forest and her freedom and screams her battle cry. She thinks of Zuko, asleep and vulnerable in their tent, and leaps into battle.