/ / /
lean on me
(this version of you at least)
One lost sky bison and an Avatar's tantrum later – a tantrum that is called for, for once – they have made their way to Ba Sing Se.
The gang is tired and demoralized. The fact that they're told to sit idly and wait does nothing to lift their spirits, and Katara finds herself darting out nearly every night.
She knows Toph has noticed and is grateful for her discretion, now more so than ever. She doesn't think her nightly escapades would sit well with Aang, what with how desperate he is not to lose anyone else from the team, but she can't stand to sit in their comfortable house in the Upper Ring, even for the sake of his comfort.
The disparity between classes is disgusting in its obviousness and it makes this city all the more confusing. People here are forced to bury their heads in the sand about anything war-related, but even if they weren't, most of them are so deep in their own sorrow and poverty that they could hardly afford to pay attention to what's happening to the world at large.
Her black attire feels like a second skin now and as she runs across the rooftops, she feels close to free. She's careful to never steal too much to raise suspicion, but every time a hand reaches out to her from the mass of sick and injured homeless people in the Lower Ring, her heart tightens. She stays long after she's reached her limit and heals until her vision blurs, because no one here cares about them. Her exhaustion catches up to her quickly, but inside, she feels a new lightness that keeps her afloat through the long nights. She feels she is doing something important for once and that is more than enough.
Katara isn't surprised when her path eventually crosses with that of the Blue Spirit. He's been doing his own fair share of vigilantism, though not nearly as covert as her – he's managed to piss off some high-ranking officials already – so it comes as no surprise that she isn't the only one roaming the streets at night.
When he walks over to her, he doesn't say a word of greeting – he can't afford to speak in public, she knows – and just takes her bag. He rummages through it, then takes some things out of his own and places it in hers. It's medicine, she sees, surprised that he doesn't even need to ask what she's been doing. She thanks him quietly and doesn't comment on it when he starts walking by her side.
They come to an unspoken understanding. They meet in the Middle Ring around midnight, he keeps watch while she steals the necessary supplies, then stands on guard until she's done her healing for the night. Some nights, she accompanies him to the Upper Ring, where he breaks into nobles' houses and steals jewelry, in and out in a flash, like a shadow of the night. Where she gives food and medicine, he leaves coins. Together, she hopes, they're making a difference, no matter how small.
This time, he doesn't scold her for the risk she's taking, only briefly remarking she should preserve some of her strength in case she meets trouble on the way back. In return, she doesn't reprimand him for stealing and lets him accompany her to the gate of the Upper Ring (she won't let him see where the Avatar sleeps; that's a separate part of her life and she doesn't want to find out if it's one that's tempting to him; but he doesn't ask anyway).
They work side by side, rarely speaking to each other, and Katara finds it easier to weather her exhaustion when she has someone watching her back.
She isn't sure when she's stopped looking over her shoulder where Zuko is concerned. She isn't sure if it is in any way rational. Most of all, she's unsure if that change should be an unwelcome one, when it feels like anything but.
/ / /
I got you
Katara's late one night. Sokka had insisted on a game of Pai Sho and it had taken annoyingly long for her to lose – he is growing up to be quite the strategist, and she should have thrown in the towel sooner instead of losing track of time – so when she finally arrives at their meeting spot, the Blue Spirit is nowhere to be found.
She frowns and takes the route they had agreed upon the night before, and sure enough, she finds him a few alleys away from the warehouse they were going to raid.
He's leaning on a stone wall, looking almost as if he's been waiting for her, but something's not quite right. He's slightly slouching and his hand is resting on his stomach. The material of his clothes is dark and the alley is dimly lit, so it takes Katara stupidly long to realize he's been injured.
"Guards…" he rasps, and the raggedness of his breaths instantly puts her on high alarm. "Five of them. I couldn't…"
But she doesn't let him continue. She takes off her glove and presses it in his palm, urging him to hold onto his wound tighter, while she scans the street. They must still be close.
Zuko points in the opposite direction and she nods. They start walking as fast as they can, but it's only when he stumbles into the wall that she puts his arms over her shoulders for support.
He leads her through a labyrinth of alleys, until they're finally behind some worn-down teashop. He heaves a breath and slides down the wall. Katara crouches in front of him and swats his hand away.
"Stupid," she grumbles as she lifts his tunic and grimaces. It's a nasty wound and by the way he's rapidly bleeding, it's deep. She uses the time he has left in consciousness to scold him. "You couldn't have just waited for me. What are you doing, fighting five guards by yourself?" With no firebending, no less; the heir to the Fire Nation throne must in fact be an incredible idiot.
"I wasn't sure… you were c-coming."
"Quiet now."
She draws water from the waterskin she's brought and takes stock of the damage. But she hasn't brought anything else, and they have no gauze, nothing to stitch him up with. Zuko seems to realize that because he raises a feeble hand and points to a window two stories above them. "There."
Katara nods and helps him to his feet. It takes them incredible effort and when they've finally crawled inside the dark room, Zuko collapses.
She rallies to the narrow hallway and lucks into the bathroom on her first try. The cabinet is sparsely stocked, but it's enough for her to work with.
Zuko's sprawled on the floor, breathing heavily, and she slaps him sharply so as to not let him pass out. She removes the mask from his face and gently guides his arms over his head. But she quickly discovers she can't lift his torso, in part because he's heavy, in part because it will make everything worse, and she only briefly hesitates before cutting his shirt open.
"Waterbender," he rasps but she tells him to shut up. His eyes are half-lidded, but he struggles to keep them open, fixing them somewhere to the left of her head.
Katara's lip is trembling slightly, but she forces herself to concentrate. This isn't so bad. He'll be okay. It will probably scar, but he'll be okay.
Her hands glow blue, and she feels the tissue coming back together, the bleeding stopping an excruciating eternity after. When she's triple-checked there's no damage to his liver, she carefully stitches the wound up and leans back on the leg of the bed, wiping the sweat off her forehead, breathing heavily even though she hasn't exerted herself nearly as much as she has the previous nights she's spent healing in the Lower Ring.
"Don't do that again. You'll get yourself killed."
His eyes are closed but he manages a wry smile. "Even if I… do. So, what."
"Shut up, Zuko." But she's smiling as well. Because she, Katara, and Zuko – the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe and the crown prince of the Fire Nation – have somehow come full circle.
He seems lucid, but what he does next convinces her he must be running a high fever. He doesn't sit up or open his eyes, but his hand reaches, and grabs hold of hers. Katara sits, unmoving, and forces herself to breathe.
She stays the entire night.
/ / /
is this…?
It takes her a while to retrace her steps in the light of day, but she eventually finds the teashop. She tells herself a mix of excuses – a touch of Toph greeting her more smugly than usual this morning, combined with concern about Zuko's wound – but she knows that's not the entirety of it.
(Her lies of self-reassurance have gotten way too easy to see through. She'll have to work on that if she's to preserve some modicum of sanity.)
It is Iroh who greets her at the door and sits her at a table. She orders their special and weaves her fingers together, looking around anxiously. Zuko darts out from the back eventually, but he stops in his stride when he sees her.
"What are you doing here?" he hisses as he brings her tea and puts it on the table with a slight slam.
She gives him an unimpressed look. The idiot is on his feet barely twelve hours after taking a blade to the gut and he has the nerve to scold her?
"I'm here for some tea." She shrugs and takes a sip. The tea is surprisingly delicious.
Zuko notes her surprise and scowls. "Uncle made it." He looks over his shoulder, before leaning closer. "You'll blow our cover."
"I don't see how."
His irritation doesn't seem to be backed up with solid arguments and she grins victoriously. "How's your injury?"
"It's fine," he bits out in a low voice. "Not here. And it's Lee."
Katara blinks at him. "You don't look like a Lee."
"Yeah, and you don't look as though you're a pain, but here we are."
She smiles into her cup. If he's insulting her, then he's certainly recovering.
"I have to get back to work," he grumbles and strides off. Katara follows the stiff line of his shoulders with a frown; he'd barely stopped by her table for a minute.
Before she has the chance to ponder the possibility that Zuko is avoiding her – maybe he had been lucid last night after all – someone sits in the chair next to her and wipes all thoughts of the Fire Prince out of her head.
"Hey, Sweets." She turns her head at the voice, abruptly feeling her blood boil. His crooked smile is mere inches from her face, the ever-present blade of grass hanging from one corner of his mouth, and she gives a disbelieving yelp, nearly falling over in her chair. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Jet?!"
His grin widens and he inches closer. Katara leans as far back as she can.
"Say, how do you feel about joining me in a mission? For good old times' sake."
Katara stumbles over her words; Jet has grabbed hold of her hand. Thankfully, the Spirits have some mercy on her because the next moment they send Iroh over to the table. "How are you liking your tea, fair lady?"
"Uh, fine. Great. It's amazing, really." Katara snatches her hand back forcefully and lifts her teacup to her mouth with a feeble laugh.
Iroh beams at her. "You're too kind." He leans down with a conspiratorial smile. "The secret ingredient is love." He straightens up and turns towards Jet. "Would you like anything to drink, young man?"
Spirits, no. Katara's face goes pale when Jet's arm goes to rest on the back of her chair. "You want to know what I would like?" His mouth twists in a smirk and his eyes trail over Iroh's shoulder where Zuko has reappeared from behind the counter. "Justice."
Before she can register what's happening, Jet is on his feet with a sword in each hand. Zuko pulls his uncle back and whips out his own dual swords – from where, Katara has no idea – and next thing she knows, chaos ensues. The other customers are on their feet, pinned to the walls of the teashop in horror as Zuko kicks a table at Jet.
"Go ahead, show them what you can do. Firebender," Jet hisses and then they've flung the door out of its hinges and are dueling out on the street.
"You're just confused, son," Iroh is trying, but Katara stares in horror. She has half a mind to jump in and end this nonsense before Zuko's reopened his wound, but they're going so fast she'd be lucky if they don't cut off one of her limbs.
She tries, nevertheless. "Cut it out," she yells as she flings two water whips and pulls them apart, coming to stand between them.
"Get away, Katara." Jet wriggles out of her whip and lunges forward. "The Fire Nation is trying to silence me. It will never happen!"
Katara freezes him in his stride. "Don't be stupid, Jet. You'll get arrested."
He snarls at her and spits out the blade of grass to the side. "You should be helping me! Have you forgotten what these bastards have done to you? You used to fight alongside me once!"
"Yeah, because I was almost as deluded as you." She lifts a hand, but Zuko pulls her back.
"Step aside, waterbender. I've got this."
There must be some testosterone at play here and Katara wants to pull her hair out of frustration for not being able to yell at him that he'll rip his stitches.
Thankfully, the Dai Li appear shortly after – she never thought she'd be glad to see them – and Jet is hauled away, yelling in anger.
Zuko is seething, and she is, too, but then she sees a dark splotch expanding on the front of his tunic, even though he hasn't taken a single cut from Jet's blades. Katara hastily flings herself in his arms and embraces him tightly. He's rightfully shocked and tries to wring himself free, but her grip tightens. "You're bleeding," she hisses in his ear, and he promptly stills.
/ / /
traveled far and wide
and still a long way to go
Katara lets go of him and turns carefully so that his front is hidden from view, but in all the commotion nobody's paying them any attention. The customers are out on the street, shaking their heads as they're commenting on what they've just witnessed, while Iroh is trying to make light of the situation. She yanks him back inside, and not too gently, but he barely protests.
"Moron," she fusses after she's dragged him to the small apartment upstairs. "Absolute moron."
Zuko glares at her. "What, you're angry I beat up your boyfriend?"
Katara points a warning finger at his face. "Don't be smart." She then points to his bed. "Lie down."
"N-"
"Lie the fuck down, Zuko. Or I'll give you a wound to match and this time, I won't heal it."
To his credit, he obeys, but not without making it known he isn't happy about it. "How do you know him?" he grumbles finally.
"It was a long time ago," she mutters as she works on cleaning the blood away. Zuko's abdomen tightens under her touch, and she tries very hard to avoid his gaze. "He tried to convince me we have things in common. And we do, I guess. But he's insane and a jerk."
"I'm a jerk too," Zuko points out after a moment of silence and Katara frowns, unable to connect the dots between those last two statements.
She chances a glance at him then. He's staring at her intently, as if trying to drill his eyes into hers and piece something together. She keeps her face expressionless. "If that's what you want to believe."
Zuko looks away. His jaw clenches and unclenches a few times before he finally spits out the thing that's obviously bothering him. "You didn't tell me the Avatar lost his bison."
Katara frowns, genuinely surprised. They don't talk much during their nights of vigilantism, and it hasn't once crossed her mind that this could even be something he'd want to discuss. And it's a part of daytime Katara's life, anyway, not the Katara that's currently stitching his wound back up.
She tries to keep her voice even. "I thought you weren't interested in the Avatar anymore."
Zuko shrugs, but she can see his mind is hard at work. This unsettles her.
"What are you going to do next?" she prompts.
"What do you mean?"
Katara rolls her eyes. "You don't strike me as the type to spend the rest of your life in an Earth Kingdom teashop."
He glares. "And you don't strike me as the type to play nurse for the enemy."
The needle in her hand pierces the skin of his abdomen as sharply as her eyes do his. "Are you? The enemy?"
Zuko leans his head back down and scoffs. He looks uncertain. Katara tries to tell herself that could be a good thing.
"I haven't thought about what I'm going to do," he says but he's frowning and avoiding her eyes in a way that tells her maybe all he's been doing is think about it.
"You know," she starts carefully. "My friends can be a lot to deal with. But" – and at this he looks at her – "they can also be very understanding."
Zuko blinks at her as he catches onto her meaning. You can come with us, is what she's saying. He seems to get it.
They fall into silence, and for the life of her, Katara can't figure out what's going on in his head.
But she's closing up his wound for the second time in a day and maybe that means he'll consider what she's silently offering.
Maybe. That's a hopeful word.
Because maybe he won't see this as his chance to renew his pursuit of the Avatar. Maybe he'll choose their side. And she tries not to think of it that way, but just maybe, if he does, he'll do it for her.
But it's also a scary word. Because Katara can't tell what Zuko is thinking, and she has to consider another possibility:
That is, maybe… maybe he won't.
/ / / / /
Author's Note: Coming up next: The Crossroads, aka DRAMA :) Let me know what you thought!