Author's note: Hello everyone! I'm actually updating on time this week :p This is another mega-chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. Please please PLEASE comment/review/let me know what you think! I LOVE hearing from you all (seriously, it makes me so happy) :D

Disclaimer: I don't own any avatar characters (as heartbreaking as that is for me)

Zuko couldn't sleep at all that night.

Earlier, he'd spent the evening roaming the corridors without purpose, just reflecting on the day. It had been the first time since he'd left home that he felt truly, genuinely happy. Although the circumstance was clouded with secrets and dishonesty, for those few hours Zuko had felt entirely, euphorically free. And Katara had been the key to that. She might have even been the reason for it, or at least part of the reason.

As he walked he didn't see the icy walls or the dark, dank corridors; he saw her eyes, bright, alive, blue like the sky. Sokka's eyes, Zuko had noticed, were also blue. But they were like the ocean, more black than blue, and stormy. His eyes held the darkness while his sister's held the sun and the stars and everything in between.

Half-sister, Zuko mentally corrected himself. Zuko felt a kind of pride that Katara trusted him enough to share such sensitive information. It completely explained the Prince's attitude towards the Empress. And even if Zuko didn't agree with it, he could understand where Sokka was coming from. Zuko hadn't lost a mother, but he had lost a sister and basically his Uncle. He had experienced loss, and he knew how much it could mess you up. Plus, Mistress Reya's death had only been months ago. He wasn't surprised by the Prince's cruel and violent tendencies, nor his obsession with sparring. He had to put his anger into something.

Zuko had been the same way. After Azula died, Zuko undertook an unhealthy dedication to his training. He went through teachers as quickly as he went through shoes (his spurts of frustration showed up at the most inconvenient of times, often manifesting themselves in uncontrollable explosions of fire) and when he wasn't sleeping or eating he was practicing. He was privately mentored by his father in princely matters, but they both knew it wouldn't matter if they couldn't end this war.

So Zuko had hatched this mission and worked every single day to set it in motion.

And now he was willing to give it up for the very person it targeted.

This is what kept him up at night.

He hadn't made a conscious decision to abandon the mission. He still had to stop the Water Empire; he had to stop this war before more innocent people lost their lives. But something had to change, because he knew with renewed certainty that he couldn't go through with killing her.

What would his father say?

You're weak, Zuko. You've failed me, your sister, and your nation. He would probably be disowned.

His mother would be more understanding. She once confided in Zuko that before she was brought to marry Ozai, she had been in love with a boy from her village. When she was chosen to become Fire Lady, she wanted to refuse for her lover's sake. But when his life was threatened, she made the decision to desert him to join Ozai in marriage. "But I learned to love and respect him," she told Zuko. "Life has a funny way of showing you what you really need, even if it isn't what you want."

Ursa was the wisest, most kind-hearted person he knew, and in a way, the Empress reminded him of her. Kya obviously loved Katara passionately if she was willing to make a deal with a firebender, the sworn enemy of her own country, just for her daughter's protection.

Zuko wondered if his mother would do the same for him. He knew she loved all of her children and would protect them to the ends of the earth, but she was also protective of her country and her people. Even if it wasn't the life she would have chosen for herself, she had adopted it wholly. Zuko couldn't imagine her in some little town, the wife of a farmer or blacksmith. She belonged in a throne, ruling a country, with his father by her side.

The image of his mother sitting on the throne shifted subtly in his mind. No longer was she dressed in long red robes, surrounded by fire, but sheathed in blue armor, a fortress of ice around her. Kya had the same look of determination on her face, of regality. But then she smiled, and the image shifted again, and Katara was watching him, her eyes sparkling as they'd done that day, and Zuko realized that he couldn't see her anywhere else, either. She was born to rule, whether or not her people believed it.

Zuko rolled over on his pallet. How could he take the throne from her? Even if he figured out a way to spare her life, the Water Empire could not be allowed to continue. It would have to be disbanded, and that would destroy her. He remembered sitting in her room, the patriotism subtle but strong, unyielding in the emblems that decorated her door and the shades of blue fabric that draped over her bed and floor. Like her mother and his, she loved her country. She wouldn't give it up. Zuko wouldn't give his up, either. How would this ever work?

Just then there was a movement from the pallet next to his, and Jin turned to face him, her eyes sleepy slits. "Zuko? Are you awake?"

"Yeah, sorry," he apologized, though he didn't know what for.

One of her hands slithered out from under her blanket and threaded through his. She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb, and Zuko felt a mix of comfort and uneasiness as she smiled at him.

"Go to sleep. Whatever you're worrying about can dealt with tomorrow."

Zuko tried to smile back. "You're right."

Her eyes closed and, in a few moments, her lips slackened with sleep. But their fingers remained intertwined, and Zuko watched them feeling inexplicably guilty, as if her skin would leave a permanent mark on his.

So in the very last moment before he drifted to unconsciousness, he pulled away and tucked his arms around him. Granted, it was a little lonlier this way, but oddly enough he felt pleased with himself, as if he had finally made his decision.

Katara and Toph were almost late to their lesson the next day, a fact that Sokka took upon himself to point out to Master Udan loudly and repeatedly. Katara kept her head down as she entered the room and sat at her desk, and avoided looking up for the first few minutes of class. She didn't know what to do about Zuko. She could physically feel him sitting there, only a few feet behind her, and she felt as if her feelings were written plainly on her face.

She didn't know where they stood. The only thing she knew with certainty was how she felt about him, and about them, and honestly, it scared her. Not only the strength of her feelings, but also what they meant; the implications, the consequences if anyone found out. It was insanely dangerous, and she knew she was being incredibly selfish for even entertaining the idea of telling Zuko how she felt.

But she couldn't help it. It was different from Loka, the servant who had left her cold, disappearing without any explanation. If anything that was a meaningless fling, a child's curiosity that had gotten the better of her. Sure, she had liked him; he had said pretty things to her and gave her attention she didn't get from anyone else. But had she loved him? No.

Not saying that she loved Zuko. Because she didn't.

At least, she didn't right now.

She glanced behind her, trying to disguise it at a general survey of the room, only to find that Zuko was watching her. His lips spread into a half-grin and she tried to fight her own smile tugging at the side of her mouth.

But I think I could. Love him.

Someone coughed pointedly, and Katara looked at Toph, who was staring her way with wide eyes, as if to say, Obvious, much?

She tried to focus on her work for the remainder of their lesson, but it was difficult. Master Udan was talking about geography of the South pole, a topic she was already familiar with, so she let her mind wander, acutely aware of Zuko's eyes on her back the entire time.

As they left the room after Master Udan dismissed them for the day, Katara caught up with Zuko, who was trailing Sokka. She tugged on his shirt sleeve and he stopped, giving her an amused look.

"Can I help you, your Highness?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact you can," she replied, grinning at his formal address. "I have some furniture in my room that needs to be moved, and I request your assistance."

"I am happy to oblige."

"Can I help?" Toph asked, suddenly appearing beside them. Both of them glanced down at her, and Katara could hear the fake innocence in her voice. She knew what they were doing, and this was either her way of giving them a warning or trying to be a nuisance, just for fun.

"Uh, that's okay Toph, I think we can—"

"I can help, too," another voice chimed in, and Sokka, already halfway down the hall, turned around. "I'm probably stronger than Zuko, anyway."

Katara sighed and shot Toph a nasty glare. The girl smirked up at her, pleased with her performance.

"I really don't think that's necessary, but thanks. Both of you."

Toph shrugged and walked towards the staircase.

Sokka followed after her. "Suit yourself, but don't come crying to me when you realize you need my help, because I'll be busy. Doing—something. Something tough and manly." Even Sokka must have realized how stupid he sounded, because he blushed and hurried down the hall.

Only when he was out of earshot did Katara look up at Zuko. "Sorry about that. Toph's kind of a pain sometimes."

Zuko shrugged. "Yeah, well—wait." A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. "Does she—does Toph—know? About us, I mean."

"What about us?" Katara asked, half-teasing, half-wondering what he thought 'us' actually meant. The tips of his ears bloomed red and he looked down at his feet.

"Just, you know, that we were out yesterday. Outside the palace. Alone. That's all I mean, I guess."

"Oh, right," Katara said, not sure whether or not he was saying what he wanted to say. Or what she wanted him to say. "Yes, she knows about that. She was in my room when we got back, waiting for me."

Zuko's good eye widened at this, but Katara shook her head. "It's fine. I trust her."

He seemed appeased by this, so Katara nudged him with her shoulder and they started towards the stairs. They kept up a stream of chatter about meaningless things, like Master Udan's lesson, and Sokka's recent order for a new space sword.

"30 inches?" Zuko laughed when she told him how big it was going to be. "Is he even going to be able to lift that?"

Katara suppressed a laugh, her shoulders shaking. "Probably not. I'm thinking he's compensating for something, if you know what I mean."

Zuko sighed. "You're not wrong." When Katara looked at him, not quite sure what to make of this, he shrugged. "I've dressed the guy like, 20 times. I've seen things."

Katara shuddered. "I really didn't need to know that. He's my brother, for Spirit's sakes!"

"Half-brother," Zuko commented as she turned the knob to her room.

"True."

Katara entered first then held the door open for Zuko who walked in hesitantly, hands in his pockets. He looked around as if he were seeing it for the first time, like he hadn't been in there twice before.

"I promise nothing's changed since yesterday," Katara joked.

"I know it's just…well, this is the first time you actually invited me in here. The other times your maid let me in—what's her name?"

"Ani."

"Ani, right." He walked over to her dresser and rifled through the various jewelry boxes and combs sitting on top of it. "You might want to tell her not to let strangers into your room anymore. You never know who can be dangerous."

Katara rolled her eyes. "I think I can handle myself. But I'll keep that in mind." I actually should have a talk with her, Katara thought. The woman was nice and always did her job well, but she was almost too nice. She had a certain reputation around the castle, and many of Katara's other servants said she was a bit naïve. But for all her questionable characteristics, she was kind, and had never given Katara reason to believe she couldn't be trusted. Still, she made a mental note to talk to her about boundaries.

Speaking of, Zuko didn't seem to have trouble crossing hers, because when Katara turned around she saw him looking through her armoire.

"Hey!" she said. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Why do you have so many pairs of socks?" Zuko asked, holding up a particularly ratty pair of brown woolen ones.

Katara stalked over and grabbed them from him, trying to keep the embarrassment off her face. At least he hadn't opened the drawer below—there were private things in there she wasn't comfortable with him seeing, much less touching. "It gets cold here in the winter. Besides, I don't think I gave you permission to go through my things!" She stuffed them back into the overflowing drawer—she really did have a lot of socks—and shut it, having to shove to get it closed. Zuko laughed at her, and had their tiff been about anything other than socks, she might have gotten mad. But as it was she started laughing too, and they both cracked up, clutching their stomachs, and stumbled over to her bed where they both collapsed in a pile of lingering giggles.

Katara rolled her head to the side, looking at Zuko's profile. In the shimmering light of the candles in her room, his scar seemed to blend into the shadows, almost disappearing into her dark blue bedspread. Her hand twitched, longing to reach out and touch the angry burgundy skin, but she held it back. Zuko turned his head towards her, and she realized that they were entirely too close. She could feel his warm breaths washing over her skin, making it tingle. She faced the ceiling before her blush could give her away, hoping, like his scar, that it was hidden in the darkness.

"Zuko?" she said. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Mm-hmm," he murmured softly, the sound no louder than the faint crackling of the candles.

"It's kind of personal." There was some hesitation this time before he said "Okay," but Katara went for it anyway. No time like the present. It was something she'd been longing to ask ever since she first saw him out on the ice, during the trials. Back then it was just an errant thought, a passing wonder, but it had festered as she got to know him better, and now she wanted an answer and explanation. Even though she hadn't revealed her feelings for him, she still felt as vulnerable as if she had divulged all of her secrets. It felt uneven, even if it was just in her own mind.

"How did you get your scar?"

It was not a question he liked to answer, especially to people who could potentially use it against him. So he didn't say anything at first, even though the explanation was on the tip of his tongue, ready to go, like he wanted her to know. Some deep part of him did want her to know, wanted her to know everything. But the true answer to this question would reveal too much. Still, he didn't have to lie completely.

"My father gave it to me."

He heard the faint intake of breath, felt the shift of the bed as she sat up, saw her blue eyes peer down at him. "Zuko.…"

"It's not what you think," he said. "When I was younger, I did something stupid and dishonorable. My father taught me a lesson in a way that I wouldn't forget." He touched the skin around his left eye with the tips of his fingers, feeling the ridges and burnt edges like a crumpled scroll laid flat, but permanently and irreversibly indented. He would never forget.

"Stop!" A thirteen-year old Zuko shouted, stepping in-between his father and uncle as an arc of fire came down at them. Zuko ameteurly bent it around himself and the old man, feeling the heat of the flame skirt dangerously around his elbows. "Please Father, I beg you, have mercy!"

"Zuko, no," Uncle Iroh moaned, crouching behind the boy. Zuko stood steady, staring up at the Fire Lord.

"He just lost his son, Father. He is in pain. He doesn't know what he's doing."

"Stand aside, Zuko," the Fire Lord commanded, a dense ball of fire swirling threateningly in his hand. "He has made his choice."

Zuko took a step forward. "You cannot kill him."

There was an outbreak of murmurings as the Fire Lord stared down at him, the grimace on his face deepening with every noise of disapproval from his audience. "You dishonor me, Prince Zuko. I am the Fire Lord and I am the law. As such, I will carry out punishments as the law demands. Now. Step. Aside."

But Zuko came closer to the throne, looking up at his father with desperation, yet determined not to back down. Uncle didn't deserve death. He was mourning. Surely his father could understand that.

"Don't kill him."

The Fire Lord squared his shoulders, his expression unreadable. "Are you willing to take his place, then?"

Zuko stared up at his father, wide-eyed, every nerve in his body numb. He wouldn't kill his only son. He couldn't.

The look in his eyes said differently.

Uncle Iroh was crying something from his position on the ground, begging the Fire Lord to kill him instead. Zuko heard the faint conversations of the Fire Sages to his right, discussing the appropriate proceedings. But it was his mother's voice, soft but firm, that cut through the din.

"Ozai, no." It only took those two, small, simple words, for the fire in his father's eyes to dim, though the flame in his palm still burned with vigor. His gaze fell on her, standing behind Iroh and Zuko with one arm outstretched, as if she could protect them both with just her touch.

"Very well," he said. "There will be no death today." There were some cries of outrage and others cried with relief. Zuko looked back at his Uncle, expecting to see peace in his aged face. But what he saw was far from it. The old man looked more worried now than ever, if such a thing was possible.

Then his father continued. "But you will both be punished for your insolence and crimes against your nation."

His Uncle was banished from the Fire Nation.

And Zuko received his scar.

"Zuko," Katara said again, softly, bringing him back to the present. The room was darker now and as Zuko looked around, he realized the candles had already burnt halfway in the past few minutes. He must have done it while he wasn't paying attention. At least Katara hadn't noticed. She was staring at him, her eyes swimming with tears, lip quivering. It was the saddest he had ever seen her, and the fact that she was more upset than he was made him sit up.

"No, it's okay," he murmured, and cupped her cheek, wiping away a fallen tear with the pad of his thumb. The touch was so intimate, and happened so suddenly, he froze there for a moment, shocked. Katara was blinking rapidly, trying to hold back the rest of her tears, too emotional to realize what he had just done, so he dropped his hand.

"It's not okay, Zuko. A father shouldn't hurt his child like that."

You're one to talk, he thought, but couldn't say the words aloud. Things with her father were more complicated than he knew. Still, he wondered if she realized that she should take her own advice.

"I'm sure you'd have scars, too, if you couldn't heal yourself," he pointed out gently. Katara sniffed and wiped her nose and eyes with the back of her hand.

Then, to his surprise, she nodded. "I know I would."

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, letting her words sink in. It was the second time she'd acknowledged her father's abuse, but this was the first time it really seemed sincere. It was more personal, deeper.

"I've known it for a long time. I just never wanted to admit it to myself. Until I met you," she said, looking up at him. She wasn't crying anymore, but her eyes were still ringed with red, her nose pink at the tip. "And I decided that I didn't want to lie to myself anymore."

Zuko pressed his palm against her shoulder. The contact felt like a burst of lightning, or a rain shower on a hot summer's day, and Zuko reveled in it. This was the first time he'd been able to touch her like this, so freely, without worrying about repercussions or propriety. It bothered him slightly that they could only do this in the privacy of her room, but at least it was happening. This was happening.

"You shouldn't, either."

Zuko, who had been leaning forward, paused. "What?"

"You shouldn't lie to yourself anymore." For an ignorant moment, he thought she was talking about them. About what they were, what they could be. And then he thought maybe she meant what they couldn't be, and he was taken back to last night. Outside of this room, they could never work; it was completely improbable. And then, when he saw her gazing at him hard, resolutely, he realized she was talking about something else entirely.

"No. No, I'm not lying to myself, Katara. My father did what he had to do to teach me respect. He helped me." Zuko moved back, putting space between them. But Katara shifted closer, her expression dogged, and reached for his hand, which he pulled away.

She only looked hurt for a second before determination returned. "Zuko, don't you see? That is exactly what my father has been doing to me for years."

"Our fathers are not the same!" Zuko said, his voice rising.

"No, they're not. But yours should not have hurt you like that. You said you were young. Don't you see? That was wrong of him."

Again with the right and wrong. The two were already beginning to blur in Zuko's mind, and this did not help to clear things up. He had never considered his father's action wrong: he had deserved it. He had spoken out inappropriately. He had dishonored his father, who had shown mercy by not killing both him and his Uncle. His father was a good man. Hakoda was bad. Dangerous. He abused his daughter when she didn't do anything and said it would make her stronger.

"I have to go," he muttered, and stood up.

"Zuko, please," she said from her bed as he hurried to the door and flung it open, stalking down the hallway and up the stairs.

She didn't understand. She didn't know the full story. But he did, and he saw everything. He saw it all perfectly.

Katara was the one that couldn't see.

And just like that they were back to not talking. This time, however, took its toll on Katara.

As days passed she found herself going through the motions—getting up, eating, classes, audiences, eating, training, sleeping—without any purpose. Her mother recruited her to help prepare for the War Summit, and Katara spent hours making decorations and overseeing the servants as they cleaned. Because of this, Katara ran into Zuko more often than she would have liked. And every single time he brushed right past her without as much as a blink in her direction.

She missed him. She missed his friendship, and she felt horrible for the way she had spoken to him about his father. But she did not regret what she said, because it was the truth. It was too easy to see the denial in his eyes, to hear the excuses he made for his father's actions. She had once been the same way. Now she knew that it was cruel for a parent to leave such a physical and emotional mark on his child. She couldn't imagine what Zuko had done to warrant such an attack, but whatever it was, Katara knew it was not justified.

If any of her family noticed her bad mood, they didn't say anything. Katara figured she was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. A few times Katara thought her mother might breach the subject, but she never did, maybe understanding that Katara just needed her space.

Toph, however, was not so insightful.

"What's your problem, Sugar Queen?" she asked Katara a few days later as they were walking back to her chambers after her lesson.

"Nothing."

"Liar. I can tell."

"How?" Katara snapped, glancing down at the girl. She said things like this all the time, accusing Katara of lying or keeping things from her without any proof. She was always right, too, although Katara couldn't explain how.

"I just can."

Katara sighed and picked up the pace, hoping Toph would get the message and leave her alone. But she matched Katara's strides and irritatingly followed her all the way to her room. Katara tried to shut the door on the girl but she put a hand on it as it was about to close, forcing it open with unpredictable strength.

"Listen, remember that deal we made a while back?"

Katara did remember, but she said no anyway, just to annoy her.

"I want to go see my friend."

Katara tilted her head. "I'm afraid you don't have any bargaining chips anymore, Toph. Zuko's pissed at me. I don't think we're friends anymore, so you don't have any secret to keep."

"Oh," Toph chortled, "that's where you're wrong. I might not have any beef on you, but I got plenty on Sparky. And I don't think you'd want some of his dirt to be dug up, if you know what I mean."

Katara stilled. Toph has secrets about Zuko that I don't know? Was her first thought. And then, ashamed that she was so pathetic, she realized that she didn't want these secrets, whatever they were, to get out. Toph was right—if they were as bad as she insinuated, it could mean trouble for Zuko. And even if he hated her now, she didn't hate him. She still liked him. A lot. And that meant she would be willing to do almost anything in her power to keep him safe.

She wasn't happy that the girl was blackmailing her, but should she really expect anything less? Besides, they had made a deal, and Toph had kept her side of it. And it surely wouldn't hurt to get out of the palace and away from Zuko. She didn't know how much more of his constant cold-shoulder she could take.

So she relented. "I have to go check on a sea bass order from our supplier for the War Summit. We can go today, if you want."

In response Toph dropped her hand from the door. "I'll see you in an hour."

Katara rolled her eyes and slammed the door in Toph's face.

XXXXX

Sure enough, exactly an hour later there was a knock on Katara's door, and she opened it to see Toph standing there in a travelling cloak. "Are we going incognito today, or…."

Katara wished they could just go without people worrying about where she was, but she decided against it, especially today when her mother was so busy with preparations. She didn't need the added anxiety of not knowing where her daughter was. Still, she donned a dark cloak and travelling clothes instead of her royal garb. At the main doors she let the guard know where she was going and who with, and they went down the steps and off the palace grounds.

Since it was the afternoon, there wasn't the bubbling energy of the morning crowds, but a heavy sort of congestion that had Katara shoving people aside with her elbows. Toph followed closely behind, not interested in the various stands and shops today as she had been last time.

"This is where you're meeting him?" Katara asked, standing in front of the Golden Temple, a hand shading her eyes from the blinding sun as she looked up at the tea shop's sign.

"Yup. I'll be quick," Toph said, already mounting the steps.

"Take your time. I'll be down at the port."

Katara waited until Toph was safely inside the building before heading down the street towards the water. The couple she was meeting were experienced fishermen, a husband and wife who ran one of the more quality establishments on the fish market. Kya had ordered twelve barrels of both sea bass and catfish, but apparently there was a shortage of sea bass this season, and Katara was making sure they'd be able to provide.

They didn't recognize her as she approached them so she made small talk, getting a feel for their characters before introduced herself. They were amiable people, kind both before and after they knew who she was. She liked them immediately. They were also very affectionate with each other. Throughout the whole conversation they maintained contact with each other, as if they were communicating through touch. It made her jealous. It also made her think of Zuko. They didn't have what these people had: Trust. And Love. And years of learning and growing with one another.

By the time they parted, Katara was positive that they would make good on their shipment, and would tell her mother no less. Plus, she had learned that they were friends with Loq, the head cook, which only helped her opinion of them.

When Katara walked through the doors of the Golden Temple, she was nervous not to see Toph right away. Lilit came over to embrace her with a wide smile on her face, saying it had been entirely too long since Katara had last visited, when in reality it hadn't been all that long. But she didn't mention this.

Then she spied Toph in a table at the very back of the shop, leaning forward as if she were intently listening to someone. And then Katara saw who sat across from her.

She did not recognize him. But his appearance did trigger something in the recesses of her memory, like the face of a person who you know you walked passed once but didn't give a second glance. She gave Lilit another hug then went over to them.

"I'm almost done here," Toph said before Katara had even taken a breath. She was about to speak, maybe to introduce herself or something, but Toph help up a finger, silencing her. Katara let out a slow, controlled breath, glaring at the girl.

"Are you sure about this?" Toph asked the old man sitting across from her.

He smiled and Katara noticed that half his teeth were crooked and the other half were missing. "Yes we are!"

While Toph's demeanor was serious and alert, the old man sounded jovial, as if everything was one big joke to him.

"Now, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" he asked Toph, and instead of getting a snarky anwer like Katara expected, Toph gestured between them.

"Katara, this is Bumi. Bumi Katara." Then she stood up, pushing her chair back a few feet. "I don't like this at all. But I trust you, Flopsy. Don't make me regret it."

The old man started cackling as Toph grabbed Katara's elbow and pulled her out the door and back into the hustle and bustle of the Capital.