This chapter is derived directly from Book 3, Episode 16 "The Southern Raiders" and most of the dialogue is taken from that (let it be known across the land that they are not my words...). But of course I sunk in my claws and made it messy and twisted. Oopsie.
ASC 100: Mere days before the coming of Sozin's Comet.
Yon Rha.
The name became a steady anthem in her mind, skirting around the edges of her thoughts without reprieve. Yon Rha. Her mother's killer. The rain poured down around them and Katara let the name follow the quick, heavy drops that resounded in her ear.
YonRhaYonRhaYonRhaYonRha. Yon Rha.
Where they hid, they had a clear view of the man as he made his way from town back to the small house where he lived with his grizzly mother. He was withering away. His face was beginning to sag with age but the angles that played at the sun-touched skin were sharp and cutting, making him appear gaunt, and she knew without a doubt that his scowl was permanent. His body had become skeletal from malnutrition and though the signs of developed muscle from his days in the navy still showed in his arms, it was more than obvious that the man had become frail beyond his reputation. Seeing him so touched by the hardships of wartime, it was almost enough that she could see him as a real person just like everyone else.
But he wasn't like everyone else. He had taken her mother from her, and that made him so different.
Firebender or not, he had become an ember that was fighting for its breath of life in a dying mantle (easy enough to snuff out).
"Nobody sneaks up on me without being burned!" The basket of vegetables fell from his hands as the man turned suddenly and blasted a stream of flames at a bush behind him that had aroused such suspicion in his narrow-minded paranoia. The immense blast engulfed an entire tree, fighting against the rain to consume at the foliage.
Katara quirked an eyebrow at this. The old man had more fuel left in him than she had imagined—but of course, what else could she expect from a firebender?
The duo remained silent, waiting, and along the path Yon Rha seemed to have decided he'd simply imagined the rustling that had frightened him into his aggressive defense. She counted five breaths before the murderer lowered his fist. He bent down and plucked the fallen food from the dirty, wet earth and almost immediately as he had turned his back to walk the other way, his foot caught against their trap (beneath her mask, her eyes narrowed with a viciously satisfied smile). The old man stumbled and fell face-first into the mud in front of him. As he pushed himself up, a gust of fire licked at the ground before him, causing the man to jolt away from the offending flames.
Before him, Zuko stood in a wide stance; eyes hard, fists ready. "We weren't behind the bush." He advanced on the old man who cowered on the ground like a pathetic slug fearing the sun. "And I wouldn't try firebending again."
The coward could do nothing but cower pathetically, his voice shrimpish. "Whoever you are, take my money. Take whatever you want. I'll cooperate."
She'd waited long enough. Katara approached the man, staring down at him with hate prevalent in her hard blue eyes and she pulled the black mask away from her face as she revealed the scowl to him. "Do you know who I am?" Her voice was lethal.
"No." His voice quaked. "I'm not sure."
Wrong answer. "Oh, you better remember me like your life depends on it! Why don't you take a closer look?"
For a moment, there was a stagnant pause where all the pitiful shriveled husk of a man could do was stare into her eyes. "Yes," he said at last, "yes, I remember you now." It wasn't her imagination that his eyes narrowed, lost in a memory or perhaps a victory. "You're that little Water Tribe girl."
Now tell me, who is it? Who's the waterbender?
There are no waterbenders here. The Fire Nation took them all away a long time ago.
You're lying. My source says there's one waterbender left in the Southern Water Tribe. We're not leaving until we find the waterbender!
It's me. Take me as your prisoner.
I'm afraid I'm not taking prisoners today...
Yon Rha gulped back fear—selfish fear at having been found out in his wrongdoings. The coward. Lightning struck somewhere in the distance and for a moment, their world was bathed in unforgiving white light. He looked so old.
"She lied to you. She was protecting the last waterbender."
The young waterbender's emotions felt overwhelming—so much so, that she wouldn't allow herself to dwell on the fact that (if she were really listening to what the man was saying) it was her fault, in some ways, that her mother had fallen victim that day.
The news did not sit well with the man and his eyes widened in shock. "What? Who?"
Then suddenly, Katara spun around. "Me!"
Katara's arms thrust out, halting the falling raindrops and creating a shield above the three of them. Her breath heaved in and out of her heavy-falling chest with a latent wait, and then without warning, she sent a forceful stream of water at Yon Rha. Halfway through her attack, however, the stream shifted into a barrage of sharp pointed daggers of ice, each gleaming viciously as light hit their deadly tips. Yon Rha crouched in fear, as though he could seem any more pitiful, and he knew in that moment that his life would be over. He only feared the impact. But the ice daggers never made contact with his skin, and his eyes slowly turned upward with the realization. As their gazes clashed, her expression softened and the daggers melted away to mere droplets as they fell to the dusty ground.
The pitiful, feeble man fell to his knees in a pleading gesture. "I did a bad thing! I know I did and you deserve revenge. So why don't you take my mother? That would be fair." A weak smile spread over his thin, crinkled lips and Katara wondered how he could possibly smile (much less joke) about something like that. He didn't understand the pain; he didn't care.
Yon Rha was oblivious to the creeping pools of water that receded from him back to Katara's reach. He was oblivious to the magnetic buzzing she could feel at her fingertips, keeping her from leaving. She knew his apologies were empty and written in selfish fear rather than remorse, and he was just oblivious.
"I've come to realize that with war comes casualties." Small rivulets of water began to creep up her leg to her forearm, winding their way around her form. "My mother, for instance, was a casualty."
"Please—"
"And now you will be, too."
The old man's eyes widened. He tried to blink, but as he did, his body was gripped by something he couldn't see—something that could see every bit of him, and he could feel it pulling at him, stretching him. Kneeling on the ground, all he could do was stare in paralyzed horror as a long, thin stream of red water (was water red?) was drawn from his throat. A strangled gasp escaped his lips, the sound akin to one who was drowning but there was no water to invade his lungs.
The red liquid flew to Katara's outstretched hands and spun, needle-thin, between her palm in twisting and curling shapes, blending seamlessly with the clear water she had been manipulating. Her eyes locked on his, and he drew back at the danger that churned behind their surface.
He didn't even blink. The needle-thin stream of blood burst into his chest, piercing his lung in an instant.
Their eyes met (Zuko watched from the side; hoping that he was imagining the entire disaster) and Yon Rha's mouth formed words as his mouth moved wordlessly, pleading for reprieve, pleading for pardon, begging for forgiveness. But she knew. She knew he was not sincere in his pleads. He begged for a guilty conscience, and he pleaded for a clean slate—but he had ruined her life. He had destroyed her entire childhood. He murdered her mother.
How dare he ask that?
"If it eases your pain, you might be seen as a martyr."
A burst of red exploded from the near-center of his chest, popping with a sickly smack, and much to the effect of a destroyed war-balloon plunging toward the ground, Yon Rha felt his chest gasp and wheeze and ache for air at the intrusion and he fell to the ground face-first in the thick muddy slop that the rain had left behind. Katara looked on at him for what felt like an eon—and she burned from the inside, her chest aching for more. It wasn't enough—not with the pain he'd inflicted on her. Not with the years of sadness and anger that he'd released on her family. He had destroyed them and this was not enough—
-/-/-
Her eyes were closed when they approached her. Aang's running feet pounded against the dock and Katara sighed. She kept her face tilted towards her lap as the cool ocean water lapped at her toes.
"Katara, are you okay?" Aang asked it in such a concerned voice that she almost wanted to answer honestly—she almost wanted to tell him everything and explain just how not-okay she really felt. But instead, the angry pinch in her brow deepened and she schooled her lips to form a blank line.
"I'm doing fine."
"Zuko told me what you did." He didn't sound accusatory, but at the words, her eyes flew open and she spun, still sitting, to pin her gaze on Zuko. She was careful to make sure that she looked impassive (far more so than she really felt) but he wasn't even looking at her. He was staring out at the water as the setting sun splayed shades of orange and red across the glassy surface.
"Or what you didn't do, I guess." She looked at Aang this time and he was smiling softly at her as though that would help her feel reassured. Zuko had lied. And that was why he wouldn't look at her. The waterbender looked away once more, staring out as the prince was doing and managing to look much angrier than him. "I'm proud of you," Aang finished.
"Don't be proud. I wanted to do it."
The young Avatar accepted her confession with tense content—he was simply happy that she hadn't done more. He was perfectly happy believing their lie (and it truly was theirs). "You did the right thing. Forgiveness is the first step you have to take to begin healing."
Katara pulled her feet from the water and stood slowly, taking a moment to herself before she turned to face them. Her eyes were dark with anger. "But I didn't forgive him." This time when she looked past the young boy to the silent firebender, he was looking right at her as though he had expected her to do just that. Neither of them smiled as they regarded each other with the heavy weight of their secret looming above them. "I'll never forgive him."
When she walked past him, Katara placed a soft palm against Zuko's arm. He'd thought by the look in her eye that she was going to say something (and she almost had, but that was a conversation for another time). When she was gone, it was just Zuko and Aang alone as the night began to set in around them and the Avatar watched his waterbending master walk off with a smile on his face and Zuko pitied the boy. Even in all the time he'd spent chasing him, he had never pitied Aang (he had envied him and hated him, but pity was a new emotion).
He was so hopeful. "You were right about what Katara needed. Violence wasn't the answer."
"It never is." He was obviously pleased by Zuko's words, and Zuko pitied him more as his guilt began to chew at his chest.
If he knew the truth…
"Then I have a question for you." Zuko turned to Aang, and in a sudden flash all the humour melted away from the young monk's face. And justly so. "What are you gonna do when you face my father?"
-/-/-
Her footsteps were silent on the soft grass, but he was a master at stealth whereas she was merely a novice and he'd heard her coming before she could even see his form. She drew back the tent flap that sealed him away from the world and ducked as she allowed herself entrance, neither needing nor seeking permission. Her legs curled beneath her as she sunk to the tent floor and though his back was to her lit by the small flickering of a lone candle, she knew he was paying avid attention to her sudden appearance.
"Why did you do it?" She asked, without any allusion to the subject that she inquired about. She knew that he would know. She had been unable to think of anything else since they'd returned from the dock, and from the vacant, haunted look in his eyes, she knew he had to (it was luck that he was usually so stoic because if he weren't, the others would have wondered).
"Would you rather I told him?"
"No," she admitted. She didn't ever want Aang to know—he didn't want any of them to know, truth be told. "But I want to know why you didn't."
"How you deal with your own demons is your decision. He doesn't understand that yet, and he doesn't yet see how the world isn't all black or white. If you choose to, it will be your choice to tell him."
"And if I choose not to?" The question rung through the air, unspoken and teeming with powerful energy.
Zuko merely shrugged. "Then he won't know. Your pain is your own. Avatar or not, he has no say in how you deal with it."
But they both knew he would never respect her choice if he knew the truth. Aang had promised he would, but they both knew that he clung too tightly to his monk-like ideals for peace and the importance of every life to really accept her decision that had marked her forever as a killer. He was too naive and she was the shining beacon of hope in his childlike eyes. His goddess couldn't be anything less than perfect, not if his morale was going to rescue their world from this endless despair.
Katara's fingers twisted together and she stared at the tan flesh, unable to meet his eye. "Are you disappointed that I did it?"
After what seemed like forever, Zuko turned around to face her. She'd been expecting to see the empty expression that the Prince displayed so casually but instead she was met with soft eyes and a tender frown that left no hints to how he was feeling. (Was he angry? Disappointed? Sad?)
"I-I think I had hoped that you wouldn't. But no, I'm not disappointed. I would have done the same." He would have done it if she hadn't.
He was breathing in time with the small flame and she matched the rise and fall of her chest to his.
The prince sucked in a breath and the small flame surged. "I need to know what you're thinking now." He'd noticed in her like she had in him the way the last day's events had weighed on her soul. She finally met his gaze-after all he'd done for her, she owed him her honest answer and the respect of her attention.
"I don't regret it, Zuko. I want to regret it, but I don't think I ever will."
"Why did you choose to do it?" He had wondered since it happened but he had wanted to wait until she was ready to tell him on her own. But patience had never been his strength, and his curiosity burned deep in his veins.
Katara sighed. "It didn't feel like a choice. I felt like I had to." She didn't know how to explain the inexplicable call that she felt when the moon was full above her and the way it pulled her bending to the man-the puppet-and she couldn't explain the muddied feeling it created in her mind, how it disoriented her and left her unable to resist.
She definitely didn't know how to tell him that she'd enjoyed it.
Zuko nodded and he said nothing more.
More than an hour later she took her leave. As she moved to stand, she laid her small cool hand against his warm knee and whispered, "Thank you." He didn't reply, but he gave the slightest grim smile and his eyes remained closed.
She crept out of the tent and back to her own and fell into her sleeping mat but her eyes remained open and she did not sleep. Back in the dim light of his own small tent, Zuko's eyes opened slowly. His face showed no expression, but there was a strain in his honey coloured eyes.
He blew out the candle.