/ / /
a mission, and you think it could be purpose;
but don't forget to watch your back, or someone else might do it for you
She doesn't see Zuko or Iroh again for a while, as is to be expected. The old man would have needed some time to recover, and her group is significantly more mobile because of Appa, even if she assumes they're traveling in the same direction at all.
She does see him eventually and it's where she least expects. They stopped at a town where Fire Nation soldiers are stationed and something stupid in her reared its head.
She was restless again, so she decided to blame it on that as she slipped out of the inn and into the night, clad in black robes with a mask covering half of her face. The knife she's taken as a precaution alongside her waterskin seems like a good move when she almost gets caught by the patrol.
They've been showered with praise and attention wherever they go, hardly ever needing to provide for themselves, but even so, it's become hard to turn a blind eye to all the poverty and devastation they come across. People are starving all over the Earth Kingdom and soldiers abuse their power in more ways than just one. Katara knows it's stupid to risk putting her friends in peril, but she's also aware she'll go mad if she doesn't do anything.
The soldier camp is eerily quiet when she darts in. It takes a few tries, but when she finally finds the tent they use for storage, it's ridiculously unguarded. It just goes to show how much fear the Fire Nation has instilled in the villagers. She remembers Haru and his father and feels her resolve harden.
Her bag is nearly full of medical supplies and food when she hears voices at the entrance of the tent. Panic courses through her and all she can think to do is duck behind a wooden crate, before the two soldiers come inside. She looks around frantically, at a loss, and then she notices the string binding two of the tent's flaps together is coming undone. She watches it slip from loop after loop, frozen in horror, but then a gloved hand pokes through and beckons her.
Katara glances back at the two soldiers in unease, knowing she's trapped. Her brain scrambles to come up with something, anything, when she notices the hand has been joined by an unmistakable hue of blue.
She crawls to the small exit that's been made for her and quietly pushes her bag outside, before going out herself.
The Blue Spirit stares at her and even through the mask she can sense his reprimand. Before she can open her mouth and blow their cover, he's started tugging her away from the camp.
She struggles to move as soundlessly as he does, and when they're finally a safe distance away she stops trying. She's panting slightly, dismayed to see he's not even broken a sweat, and leans on the cold brick of the wall behind her.
"That was stupid of you," he comments.
"Aren't you supposed to be silent at all times, or something?" she retorts because this is not how she envisioned this night going and she's certainly not discussing her undeniable stupidity with him.
"You know who I am anyway."
"Whatever. I was just doing what you are. Why were you there in the first place?"
He shrugs, not providing an answer beyond that. Katara straightens up and fastens the strap of the bag over her shoulder. "Well. Thanks." She turns to walk away but he stops her.
"Don't do that again."
She scowls. "Why not?"
"You'll get yourself killed."
Her frown deepens. "Even if I do. So what?"
He doesn't have an answer to that and Katara leaves.
She's saved his uncle and now he's saved her. They're even, she thinks, and they can go their merry separate ways.
/ / /
someone up there is surely having a good laugh
It would seem fate disagrees.
It's the next town and she has the unsettling feeling he's here again. She doesn't have anything to base her suspicions on but there seems to be a certain presence in the air that she can't ignore. She's starting to grow wary he's back on his mission to capture Aang, and when that anxiety exacerbates enough, she knows she needs to make sure she isn't imagining things. She says nothing to her friends though, and that is probably what has her most puzzled of all.
She thinks she catches a shadow in street corners the whole way through town, but every time she turns her head to look, there's nothing. Right before they dart out of the village, her instinct gets the better of her and she weaves nonchalance into her voice as she says, "You guys go ahead. There's this stall I wanted to check out."
Sokka and Aang pay her half-assed excuse no mind as they continue their bickering and carry on, and she rounds the corner to a back alley.
Sure enough, Katara's right. He's there, leaning on a wall, the blue mask staring at her in a frozen grimace.
"Waterbender," he says in a low voice, and she nods in acknowledgment.
"Your uncle's doing alright?"
"Yes."
"You're still making the compresses?"
"Yes."
"He's eating?"
"Yes. Like I said. He's fine."
"Good." She hesitates and for a moment she wishes she could see his eyes, on the slim chance that would give away his intentions. "Are you still chasing us?"
"No."
"Then how come I run into you everywhere we go?"
"We're both making our way from the coast, Katara." She thinks he sounds mildly annoyed, though at what she has no clue. The sound of her name sends an unexpected shiver up her neck. She didn't think he even knew it. "You don't have to worry about that anymore."
"…Okay."
She stands there for a stiff second, blue eyes pinned on dark holes on a blue mask of the same shade, before she turns away.
Katara doesn't join her friends immediately. Instead, she stalls around a notice board, the familiar faces drawing her attention. The rewards for the capture of Prince Zuko and General Iroh are hefty enough to bait much less desperate men than the wretched sad lot around here.
She casts a furtive glance down the street. When she's certain no one is looking, she tears the 'wanted' posters away and rips them to shreds.
/ / /
and the joke is at your expense, but you don't seem to mind that much
The third time around, Katara is caught off guard and almost blows her cover.
It's a small street near the edge of town where she sees him. She's been trailing a safe distance behind the night patrol, leaving small packages of food on the doorsteps she passes by. She rounds a corner and nearly collides with the grotesque wooden mask, barely containing her yelp of surprise.
The Blue Spirit stares at her for a long second, and then gives a sigh –
– His Highness sounds almost petulantly annoyed to see her again –
– and gruffly hands her one of the bags he's been carrying over his shoulder. Katara stares at it dumbly. He gives a shrug, as if the crown prince of an oppressive military state helping the less fortunate on foreign territory is in no way a big deal. He holds the bag out more adamantly, shaking it slightly to communicate his impatience.
After a moment's hesitation, she takes it with a nod. Right now, the figure standing before her is more the elusive vigilante she's been hearing rumors of, and less the person she knows is behind the mask; she prefers thinking of him as some faceless bearer of goodwill anyway.
"There's two guards on the next street," she says in way of thanks, noting the direction he was heading in. The Blue Spirit looks back to where he came from, seeming to hesitate. Then he nods and swiftly snatches the bag back from her hands.
Before she can ask what he's doing, he deposits some of its contents near the closest doorstep. He doesn't wait for her as he repeats the action on the next few houses.
"Slow down, you'll catch up with the patrol," Katara hisses as she follows him. But he's emptied the bag faster than she can iterate on her protest. His stance is insufferably smug, and she crosses her arms with a huff.
The grimace of the mask appraises her before he points a gloved finger at her face. She frowns in confusion, and he points again, this time with a grunt. "I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with Monosyllabic Caveman language," she deadpans and even though she can't see his face, she can swear he's just rolled his eyes at her.
"You should get a better mask," he says, exasperated.
It's an interesting statement, coming from someone whose own mask originates from a Fire Nation Opera.
But Katara doesn't get the chance to retort with something smart. The Blue Spirit is already walking away.
/ / /
and let there be laughter, for some things cannot be explained
they can only be felt
The fourth time around, their run-ins have become so redundant, Katara actually laughs.
There's something else prompting her amusement. The Blue Spirit is crouching near a deserted stall on an empty street, one gloved hand petting a stray cat.
The image does not compute.
He immediately straightens when he notices her and if she didn't know better, she'd say he's embarrassed. But alas; it would appear animal cruelty is not present on his list of sins.
The Blue Spirit turns his head to survey the street, and then breaks his trademark silence. "You done for the night?"
Katara nods, openly confused by the question. But the Fire Prince, purposeful as ever, isn't making small talk; his intention becomes clear a mere second later. He gives a laconic nod towards the woods in an unspoken invitation.
She hesitates.
But it only lasts a moment before she trails after him. The warning voice in her head has since dulled to a quiet hum, and she hopes this won't be the time her intuition betrays her. (After all, he has had ample opportunity to assume his former role of the Avatar's persecutor, but as of yet, he hasn't even uttered a word to ask about him. She briefly wonders why that is.)
Nevertheless, Katara voices her thoughts – just for good measure – once they've reached a small clearing not too deep in the forest. "Do you seriously expect me to believe this is a coincidence? That you aren't stalking us?"
"There's nothing you can do about it even if I was," he replies bluntly, and she ponders whether she should be intimidated.
But then he makes a fire and hands her tea that tastes horribly, yes, but she doubts it's poisoned either way, so she takes it and sits down on the ground.
The Blue Spirit sheds his mask and then he's Zuko again. Katara is absently glad she can see his eyes once more, though when she can no longer pretend he's someone else, the fact of her presence here becomes that much harder to reconcile with.
She ignores the unsettling feeling by inquiring about his uncle's health. That's how she finds out the two of them have parted ways and that surprises her enough to have her question his next course of action.
"Where are you going next?"
"Don't know."
"What are you going to do?"
"Don't know that either." Zuko sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He sighs a lot, Katara's noticed. "I have never really thought what life would be like if there wasn't a war going on."
"You want the war to end?" She tries to keep her surprise out of her voice, but doesn't quite succeed.
He gives a laugh then, but it's a weak, humorless sound. "Of course. Seeing all the devastation around here tends to do that to a person."
Katara leans back on her palms, studying him curiously. His hair has gotten longer. "Well, you'd probably be back in the Fire Nation. Ruling."
He looks at the fire. "I doubt that."
His eyebrows are creased in a way that makes her want to ask about his banishment, but she keeps silent. She doesn't know what this is, but she knows they aren't there yet. He glances at her before quickly looking away. "Do your friends know about this?"
Katara doesn't know if he means her sneaking off at night or her talking to him, but the answer's the same either way. "No."
"Would they…" He clears his throat. "Would they disapprove?"
It strikes her as an odd thing to ask. But it's a question she doesn't know the answer to, and she thinks maybe that's why she's kept it to herself.
"I don't know," she says honestly.
Zuko accepts her reply without pushing, and she thinks maybe he isn't the only one who doesn't know what they want. If her nightly escapades – meek attempts at a good deed that isn't as boisterous as most Avatar business tends to be – have a point to them at all, it's finding some semblance of a purpose that's entirely her own.
His next question is just as ludicrous, though in an entirely different way. "Have you ever had papaya?" He rummages through his bag and produces two pieces of fruit, and Katara has to fight really hard to contain her smile.
That night, Zuko brews a second pot of tea. It's just as bad as the first one, but she stays until the last drop is finished.
She wonders about what her friends would say if they could see her. Some part of her wants to keep this to herself though. She's not sure why, but maybe it has to do with the fact that somewhere in the middle of her third cup of tea, the boy from across the fire has stopped looking like the Fire Prince. Somewhere along the line, he has started looking like just a boy, one that just happens to be on the other side of this war that is still going on.
One that has to be painfully lonely in his directionless travels, in a way she sometimes feels too when she's alone at night and thinking of her mother, in a way that all broken children are.
For the first time ever, she bids Zuko goodnight before leaving.
/ / /
maybe we're simply old friends who've only just met
The fifth time around, Katara finds herself fighting a ridiculous thought: he's been waiting for her.
Absurd as it may be, there's nothing else to explain what he's doing, leaning on the wall behind the same stall as before. She doubts it's the cat he was looking for.
But there is a box of Earth Kingdom tea in her satchel, one she's brought in case they run into each other again tonight.
(It would be nice if they didn't have to drink one of his attempts; he puts in too much hibiscus and the end result is sourer than what she can politely stomach.)
Maybe the notion is ridiculous. But it would appear, it is also mutual.
/ / / / /
Author's Note: Ah, this is my favorite one yet. Liked it? Let me know. Hated it? Let me know all the same. Thank you to the people who have reviewed/followed/favorited this story! You guys make my day.