ebb
Travel by ship is as tedious as Katara remembers. The passage of time seems to slow, and every interaction with the Northern sailors- limited as they are- serve as an ugly reminder of her last trip. There's a major difference, of course; now, she's the Waterbending Master to a reticent pupil. The Avatar's enthusiasm for training was never anything to write home about, but the prospect of training (with Katara, no less) on the limited space of the ship's narrow deck sends his motivation spiraling.
She scheduled their lessons for noon, but more often than not when the noon bell rings, she finds him meters above her, dangling from the sails' rigging amidst the wide grins of his sailor friends, clearly determined to test the limits of her already limited patience. When he does deign to join her, she has him work on forms, moving through positions like Octupus, Barracuda, Marlin- a decision he elects to view as a commentary on his skill level, rather than a necessity due to lack of space. She doesn't bother correcting him, and their lessons end in arguments more often than not.
When the ship finally glides to the bottom of the Su Oku River to stop in the port town of Pohuai, she breathes an audible sigh of relief.
That is, until she sees the fanfare. Confetti flutters in the air, and the gathered crowd erupts as he waves and smiles on his way down the ship's brow. Katara follows ten paces behind with a scowl like a thunder cloud. The Northern Water Tribe must have notified Pohuai of their imminent arrival- and made Katara's secondary duty as his personal guard that much more difficult. At least she doesn't claim sole responsibility there; a group of fierce-looking Earth Kingdom soldiers join her the moment his Holiness's feet meet dry land.
As the eager crowd threatens to swallow him whole, she shouts a warning over the burly shoulders of his new guards. "Don't stray too far!"
"Thought you weren't my nanny," he calls back coldly.
She has no wry response to that, and settles for watching him navigate the public duties of the Avatar with morbid fascination. Katara hasn't noticed a particularly patient streak in the man- how will that reflect in the performance of his duties?
But he takes it all in stride; kind and eager, enthusiastically greeting citizens ranging from fanatically weeping teenagers to old farmers, begging for a blessing of the spring harvest. On behalf of the farmers, he sends an eloquent plea to the Spirits. For the admirers, he flashes a charming smile and a casual wave. Katara rolls her eyes. With the warmer weather, he's shifted from sturdy, warm clothes to light trousers and a short kasaya that bares his right arm and pectoral muscle- and the crowd shares their approval with wolf-whistles and satisfied smirks.
She remembers with a start that he's an outgoing person by nature- that once, even she was taken in by his easy charm, that crooked smile. He has a knack for it, a calming demeanor that sets people at ease. His arrival in Pohuai was met with screams of delight, little Earth Kingdom flags waving furiously in welcome, but the people behind him are soothed from their frenzy- a sense of peace washing over them as palpable as the heat of the sun's late morning rays.
But, when they return to the ship for the night, he rips away his ceremonial kasaya as if it is rough-spun cotton, and not the finest silk the Air Nation has to offer. He drops heavily onto his bed, slams his door shut with a little blast of wind, and does not re-emerge until dinner.
Katara glowers at him over her plate. He skipped his Waterbending lesson for a nap. It must be exhausting to be so well-loved.
Despite his ease among the crowd, Katara can feel tension rolling off him in waves. In what she'll likely later consider a moment of weakness, she allows him to finish his dinner in peace before addressing her concerns.
"You don't have to stay with me," he grumbles as he disinterestedly pushes edamame around his plate. A clear dismissal. "I'm sure the ten guardsmen outside the door have my personal security under control."
She scowls. If she isn't a nanny, she has no intention of being sent away like one. "You missed your Waterbending lesson," she reminds him sharply. "We'll make up for it as soon as you're cleaned up."
"It's been a long day. I could use a break-"
"You had a break. We haven't practiced since we hit the Su Oku three days ago, and unless they know something I don't, I doubt those sailors taught you how to cover the gaps in your defense while you were jabbering about knots and deck seamanship."
He rolls his eyes, and that is that. They hand their plates to the scullion in uncomfortable silence.
The sun is sinking below the horizon as Katara waits for him to join her at the riverbank. He's dragging it out- to irritate her, no doubt- but the sounds of the port town, of the ships in the harbor and the water flowing past, remind her a little bit of home. She closes her eyes in an impromptu meditation session. Steadying her nerves before his 'Holiness' finds a way to test them.
She hears his footsteps, the grains of sand sliding against one another, and her eyes snap open.
He nods a curt greeting; she nods one back.
Thirty minutes later, she is stripped down to her sarashi and leggings, and his rough cotton shirt is balled up among the reeds. They are dripping in sweat; the Earth Kingdom's heat reared its ugly head as an unexpected participant within minutes of the lesson's commencement. Still, the training is sorely needed. The gaps in his defense really are excessive, and more than once she is able to land a blow that the young man feels is more forceful than necessary.
"Do you think your enemies will ignore those easy shots?" she demands.
"Hopefully, my security isn't letting my 'enemies' get that close," he snaps back.
She bites her lip. Sparring sessions are one thing, but she's never actually been in a fight. It's her only fear- that she might react differently, might make the wrong move and cost the Avatar life or limb. She may not like him, but she doesn't want him hurt- doesn't want anyone hurt because of her- and she certainly doesn't want to explain failure to either Tribe.
He heaves a frustrated breath, and Katara realizes he has misconstrued her moment of self-doubt as irritation with him. Well, it's already been a moment of weakness, she grumbles internally. She'd rather he assume that she's angry with him than confirm that she's unsure of herself, so she wanders away, allowing the lesson to come to an end. He watches her plop down in the mud and dirt of the river bank and wrap her arms around her knees. Eventually, he sinks into the shallow water with a splash, floating on his back, eyes skyward.
After a while, he speaks again, eyes still closed. "You know, some of my friends in the North had a running bet that with you as my Master, I'd either become the worst Waterbender in history, or the very best." When it is clear that no clever remark is forthcoming, he continues. "They used to say you didn't deserve to be there, but after a while it became ridiculous to pretend you weren't outstripping every one in that training yard, even if you didn't have any real-world experience."
Her stomach swoops uncomfortably. His words hit a little too close to the mark, like he heard what she was thinking, and she doesn't like it one bit.
"What do you want me to say?" she asks, hoping she sounds diffident. "I worked as hard as any of them. Harder, even. And they still looked at me like I was the physical manifestation of Koh the Face Stealer."
"They were wrong,"
"I know; tell it to them." Her eyes are on the ground, watching as her fingernails scrape at mud. Shivering with displeasure at the feeling of it under her nails, but she'd rather feel that than whatever is happening within her chest.
"I did. Often."
She scrapes harder. "Am I supposed to thank you?"
"I just wanted you to know," he murmurs.
He stands suddenly, and water trickles down his torso like molten silver under the light of the waning moon. He trudges up the bank, snatching his balled-up shirt and yanking it over his head. "I'll see you tomorrow, Katara."
The detail of Earth Kingdom guards that joined them from Pohuai are a stolid bunch. Their conversations consist mostly of twitches in facial expressions; something as simple as the minutest flaring of nostrils having a world of meaning.
Katara finds them mildly irritating. The Avatar finds them utterly intolerable.
As if their itinerary was announced to the entirety of the Earth Kingdom, every port call from Pohuai to Omashu is met with cheering crowds and eager fanfare. Katara marvels at the public's ability to sniff out the Avatar's location. Half the time, she herself doesn't know when the schooner is making port.
The Earth Kingdom detail, under the command of the stoic Captain Fong, make each visit a nightmare. Her charge can't so much as clasp a reaching hand without several burly men knocking them apart, hafts of spears pounding into the dirt for emphasis. She brushes their behavior away as overzealousness; the Avatar considers it offensive in the extreme.
"It's my duty to help these people," he snarls at Captain Fong one evening. There was an incident at a fish market in a small coastal village, a week outside Gaoling- a fisherman gifted him a fillet of raw mahi (even though it's fairly public knowledge that he's vegetarian), and the Captain slapped it from the Avatar's hands like it was a bomb. "I can't do that if you won't even let me near them."
"Your safety is my responsibility," is Captain Fong's useless reply. Katara finds speaking with him somewhat akin to speaking with a piece of furniture.
Eventually, she begins to notice the tension in the Avatar's shoulders each time the schooner's captain announces the intention to make port. Each time, she experiences an unbidden upswell of pity. Her opinion of him notwithstanding, he clearly takes his duty seriously, and to an extent, she can sympathize with the pressure he must feel to present the perfect Avatar to each city. Captain Fong and his henchmen are getting in the way with a single-mindedness that only a soldier can duplicate.
A few days before their arrival at the summit, they stop on the outskirts of Omashu, the oceanside edge of the great city. Katara halts Captain Fong before he and his detail can usher the Avatar down the brow.
"His Holiness will be allotted time to greet these people," she says in (what she hopes is) a commanding voice. She crosses her arms over her chest for effect, ignoring the wide silver eyes turned to her in surprise.
Captain Fong shakes his head the tiniest increment. "It isn't safe for the Avatar to be that exposed."
"Are the fisherfolk of Omashu a great threat to his Holiness's safety?"
"I don't know the fisherfolk of Omashu."
"Neither does he. That's the problem."
The Avatar watches their argument closely, eyes darting back and forth between each volley.
In the end, a grumbling Captain Fong allows an extra five minutes for a 'meet-and-greet', and Katara is rewarded with a polite inclination of her charge's head in thanks. For a moment, she feels accomplished. It doesn't last.
Petals line the streets as they walk through a bustling market. A young woman sighs dreamily when he walks past, giggling at the crooked smile he gives her. The older woman next to her, however, watches him with a carefully blank expression that sets bells ringing in Katara's brain. Her face is too devoid of feeling. Katara keeps an eye on her long after they've passed, but she never does anything but stare.
Her attention shifts when the Airbender greets a large family, clusters of children grinning and giggling. They have flowers to honor his visit, woven into bouquets and crowns and bracelets. A little boy, no older than two, places a dandelion crown on the kneeling Avatar's head, and in response, he scoops the boy up fondly with one arm.
A puddle splashes. The older woman darts past, one arm raised high. A dagger in hand, reflecting the dusky orange of the afternoon sun.
Katara pulls water from a nearby drink stand, ripping fruity beverages from coconut cups and sweeping them into a low whip that yanks the woman's feet out from under her before her knife can reach the Airbender's unprotected back.
The security detail is on her in an instant. There is a hoarse shout in protest from somewhere behind her. She doesn't have to turn to know who it was.
Katara doesn't see what the security detail does to the woman, and she spends the rest of the night grateful that she didn't. She tosses and turns, trying to untangle a confused welter of emotions. Captain Fong and his detail performed their job. It's what they're supposed to do. She shouldn't feel sorry for the woman. She shouldn't.
She forces herself to different thoughts. To the peaceful sound of the water lapping against the boat's hull.
But she lays awake, and all she can hear are the sounds of spear tips embedding in flesh. Too quickly, like the Captain and his men knew it was coming.
She can hear his shout of protest, too. The sharpness of his voice, the knife's edge of fear- fear for someone else.
"I warned you," Captain Fong declares grimly- and perhaps a bit smugly- when Katara meets with him the next morning. "I told you it was dangerous."
"Why did she try to kill him?"
"It may shock you to discover that his Holiness is not universally adored."
She almost laughs at the irony. "I'm more concerned with the fact that this is the first I'm hearing about any kind of threat to his Holiness's safety. You're acting like you already knew."
"I don't report to you."
"We share security detail," she reminds him through gritted teeth. "If you'd been more forthcoming with information, I wouldn't have suggested the meet-and-greet. Or, I could have reacted more quickly."
He grunts a begrudging approval. "Your reaction time was fine."
"What are you not telling me?"
But Fong's patience reaches its limit. "Ask him."
She does just that a few hours later, knocking reluctantly at his door.
"Who is it?" he calls. He sounds casual- too casual, and she doesn't trust it one bit. The last time she heard that tone from him, she'd found her lesson plan for their evening Waterbending session in the folds of his robe.
She swings the door open with a bang. He's leaned over a small desk, but at the sight of her, he drops something to the ground, kicking it under his rickety cot with a little gust of wind.
Her eyes narrow. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing. Passing the time."
"What was that?"
He kicks it further into shadow. "Is there something you wanted?"
She lets her suspicion go unanswered for the moment. "What do you know about the woman who attacked you?"
"Nothing. I've never seen her before."
"Why would she want to harm you?"
He shrugs. "It's not as if I thought I would never be disliked, but..." He tosses her a dry look. "I'll admit I didn't think it would be as common as it is."
"Your safety isn't a joke," she admonishes. "It's my responsibility.
"You sound like Captain Fong."
She doesn't care for the comparison. "I'm supposed to train you and defend you-"
"I never asked you to 'defend' me-"
"You'll never have to. I just want to know what we're getting ourselves into." A heavy pause, and then words slip out before she can pull them back. "I heard you shout. When it happened."
His fists clench at his sides, knuckles white. She spent the night reliving the sound over and over. Looking at him now, she's certain that he did, too.
"I didn't like that," he mutters. "Never wanted that. She could have gone to prison, or... something."
"Please, tell me what you know," Katara urges. "If I know what's going on, then next time, I could reach them first. Neutralize the threat before your rabid watch-dogs get there."
"I'm not stopping you."
"You're not helping me, either."
After a tense moment of scrutiny, he drops onto his bed, defeated. "Fine," he mutters. "How much do you know about Avatar Roku?"
"Next to nothing," she admits placidly.
"Shortly before he died, he removed Fire Lord Azulon from power."
"That, I did know. Azulon's removal created a vacuum that completely re-shuffled the balance of power between the nations." A shrug. "Or, so my brother once told me."
The young man nods. "Roku removed Azulon after he uncovered a plot intended to strip leadership from certain politicians' hands, and give it to those he felt were more deserving. He had plans to shift the balance of power in every nation- and to remove the Air Nomads from power completely."
Her eyes widened. "I didn't know that."
"Not many do." He picks at lint almost absently. "The details are complex, but let's just say that some people still hold a grudge against Roku and his supporters... and those people take the reincarnation thing very seriously. Combined with the fact that I'm an Airbender myself... they think my people are weak. They call themselves the Red Lotus- when they're organized enough to call themselves anything, which is rare."
"Let me make sure I understand," she recounts slowly. "There is an underground force that thinks you personally deposed their leader, and they're out there right now, enacting half-baked plans to kill you at any moment."
"Not just me- there are some other people they've been more than happy to take a swing at, but, yes. That's the long and short of it."
She grits her teeth. "You never thought to mention it?"
"What difference would it have made? We have no way of identifying who's involved. Lucky for you, disliking diplomats isn't a crime, and I'm not about to start pounding on doors for a popularity census to gather suspects, anyway." He gestures past his bedroom door. "This is the worst thing that's happened in years. Frankly, I'm more concerned with Fong's disproportionate response than anything else."
"That woman tried to kill you."
"And you stopped her before she got anywhere close. Job well done."
She ignores his bitter tone. "In the future-"
He cuts her off. "You did well today, Katara, and you don't need to do more."
Another dismissal. He's making it a habit, and she doesn't care for that one bit.
Out of spite, she picks an excuse to keep her in his room longer. "What's under your bed?"
"Laundry."
She leans down to get a better look. He shifts his legs to block her view, but it's too little, too late.
"I've never seen you wear green pants before," she notes offhandedly. "But I did hear Fong's lieutenant asking if someone mistakenly grabbed the Captain's trousers from the drying line."
The Airbender doesn't miss a beat. "Spirits, I hope he finds them. Hard to perform a security detail when you're not wearing pants."
A realization hits her. "The dried stinging nettles from my herb bag are missing."
"Probably for the best. I hear they cause a horrible rash."
A noise burbles out of her. A laugh. It shocks them both.
With her heart thudding strangely in her chest, she decides its time to leave. "Tuck the pants under the starboard capstan on the fantail. The wind blows that way- he'll think they fell from the line and got stuck," she tosses over her shoulder as she makes for the door. "And for Spirits' sake, wear gloves."
She doesn't wait for him to answer, but she still hears his exhale of breath. "Goodnight, Katara."
In a strange reversal of events, their arrival at in Gaoling is a subdued affair. There are no parades, no waving fans or adoring crowds to greet the Avatar, or any of the other Earth Kingdom leaders arriving from all over the nation. Captain Fong admits (after much shouting and stamping of feet and finger pointing) that the Avatar's journey from the North Pole to Omashu was used to flush out any attempts on his life- or the lives of any other politicians in the Red Lotus's sights.
"We have more lives to protect than just the Avatar," Fong states gruffly. He's been in a foul mood for days; she has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with his inability to stop scratching at his trousers. "This was as effective a solution as any. Why endanger many lives when we can just endanger one?"
Katara is furious. "You used him as bait."
"We provided him with an elite security detail. I'd do it again."
In their weeks of traveling together, she's long since realized that there is no sense arguing with him, and as they follow the Avatar up the steps of the city hall to commence the summit, she finds herself irritable and short-tempered. Her charge is smiling, bowing and shaking the hands of his fellow diplomats, laughing as if there isn't an underground entity waiting for the perfect opportunity to kill him.
In spite of all the excitement (and her newfound fear that someone is going to murder her pupil) the summit itself is a monument to tedium. With stamina that would make an old-timer blush, the politicians tackle topics like grain shipments and farmer shortages for hours. They argue with the vigor of schoolchildren. At one point, she is certain a fist fight will break out over the suggestion to move Omashu's westernmost city limit a few feet back.
Captain Fong blanches when she leans in close.
"What difference does moving the city limit a few feet make?" she asks quietly, curiosity overcoming decorum.
It is several moments before he responds. "None whatsoever," he admits.
Her suspicions are confirmed. The politicians are dragging out the summit for no other reason than the fact that they like to argue. It explains the vein ticking at the Avatar's temple, though one could never tell by his patient and measured responses. He answers questions, weighs in on every topic with thoughtful suggestions, as if he's spent time studying each and every scenario.
Maybe he has. No telling what he gets up to in his room after their nightly Waterbending lessons. Even so, as the summit draws to a close, it's clear that he is looking forward to escaping that room.
"I'm very happy with the progress we made today," he commends the hall when two politicians finally sit down after coming to an agreement on an increase in toll prices. "Unless there are any other topics of interest, I believe that we have covered what we came here to-"
A middle-aged man stands, one heavily bejeweled finger raised to hail his attention. "My apologies, your Holiness. There is one final topic of discussion."
The Avatar nods, plasters that polite expression back on his face. "The floor is yours."
"We all heard of the attack on your life just days ago, and are relieved to see you in good health," the politician notes in a reedy voice. "Considering the importance of your safety, we would like to discuss the permanent attachment of Captain Fong and his soldiers to your party."
Katara reads the alarm on his face like a billboard, but his reply is calm, cool. "I'm sure that won't be necessary."
"Without a security force-"
"Master Katara could have handled that threat alone, without the esteemed Captain's assistance," he interrupts. "And I'm told that I'm fairly decent at managing my own personal security. I'm grateful for the Captain's efforts this past week, but, ultimately, I feel having a traveling security force is unnecessary. Anyway, it sends the wrong message with regards to my..." He struggles to find the word. "...Approachability. I'm the bridge between the Spirit World and physical world, not a king. A permanent security detail is not compatible with the image I want to project."
The politician whines. Literally, a high-pitched groan, like a dog. "But your safety-"
"Is well managed," the Avatar insists.
Another politician, a fierce-looking woman with a tight topknot, pipes up. "Let us not be blase about the threats against your life, Avatar Aang. The Red Lotus may be disorganized, but they need only get lucky once." She turns, eyeing Katara with speculation. "Master Katara, what do you think? Would you not find additional security measures beneficial?"
Katara is surprised at the sudden address- at the fact that her voice is specifically requested in a summit of the Earth Kingdom's elite. Her eyes flick to the Avatar's- his expression is neutral, but there's tension in the corners of his eyes as he waits for her answer. Her nails cut into her palm. She supposes the need for extra security depends on the severity of the threat to his life. He insists that it isn't serious. For the first time, she chooses to openly trust him.
"I agree with the his Holiness's assessment," she says finally, finding her voice. "Between the two of us, we are more than capable of handling any threats."
"Perhaps a smaller force than Captain Fong's-"
His gray eyes harden like steel. "Your concerns are appreciated, but my decision is final." The steel in his eyes is matched in his voice. This man brooks no argument- this man is the Avatar, not the impulsive boy who steals her inkwells to keep her from making lesson plans.
The congregation notices, too. They bow their heads, almost meek in their acquiescence.
"Thank you all for your time and preparation," he says firmly. That dismissal again. "I look forward to working with you again in the future."
Without another word, he bows and takes his leave, his ceremonial kasaya skimming the floor as he glides from the hall. Katara hurries after him. He is moving so quickly that in the chaos of the summit's end- all those politicians leaving their seats to mill about and mingle or further pursue unfinished arguments- she fears she'll lose sight of him. Her eyes sweep the hall, searching, until she finds him all but sailing through the huge double doors. He takes a sharp, unexpected left down a busy street, and Katara has to run to catch up with him.
"Hey," she calls, "hey! Slow down."
He ignores her, sprinting past shops and narrow streets, stopping finally in front of the stone wall that surrounds the city. He gives her a hard look. "Can you clear that wall?"
She takes a running leap, her fingers scrabbling at the edge until they find purchase, and pulls herself up. A gust of air sends dirt swirling, and she covers her eyes with one arm. When she opens them, he's cleared the wall completely, landing smoothly on the other side and holding a hand up to help her down. As soon as her feet hit the ground, he is off again, running on long legs to a distant tree-line. She matches his pace, pretends the speed doesn't wind her. A dozen questions dance in her mind- where are they going, why is he running, what is he running from?- but she keeps them to herself.
He finally stops several miles outside town, at the edge of a river that winds through the trees. He drops down the steep bank and into the water. Orange hand-spun silk flutters to the ground, and the young man dives in head first, re-emerging a few feet into the fast-moving current. He floats on his back as his breathing slows, the wildness in his eyes ebbing away.
She waits patiently, lowering herself slowly onto the pebbled bank.
After a while, he drags himself from the river and sits down a few feet away. "I'm sorry," he breathes. "I couldn't stand another minute-"
She doesn't say anything, doesn't think he needs her to. Instead, she rests her chin on her knees, and closes her eyes, and both of them let the wind pass over them as the sun sinks below the horizon.
They make a small fire, and Katara catches fish from the river for dinner while he forages for roots and mushrooms in the tree-line. She is acutely aware of the fact that they skipped his Waterbending lesson for the evening, but somehow, she can't bring herself to mention it. She does have questions, though, and the further into the evening they delve, the more she feels the weight of them at the tip of her tongue. Shyly, she glances over at him. He seems such a picture of ease, of relaxation, she is loathe to bring him back to reality.
"Ask," he says suddenly. "Just ask."
Is she so obvious?
"They're all over your face. Your questions."
"You're telepathic?" she grunts.
He laughs dryly, and leans back on one elbow. "No. You're just... easy to read."
She tries not to bristle at that, but she does have questions. She starts with the most obvious. "Why did you run?"
"You could have stopped me."
"That's not an answer."
He snorts. "It's an easy question."
She considers that. After a while, she shrugs. "If you wanted to get away, why did you let me follow?"
"I think you wanted to get away, too."
"Can't argue with that. Thought that one woman was going to skin me alive when I agreed with you."
He laughs in earnest.
She still needs answers, though. "How serious is it? This threat? Tell me the truth."
"I don't know. That's the truth."
"Roku thought it was serious," she notes. "Serious enough to depose a king. Maybe Iroh is involved-"
A firm shake of his head. "Not Iroh. No."
"How can you be so sure?"
"You'd have to meet him." A flash of gray, and his eyes meet hers suddenly. She can feel them like pressure, like the touch of a hand. "Thank you," he says. "For what you said..."
She bites the inside of her lip. "I didn't want Captain Fong- or anyone else like him- following us around for the rest of your training, but I'll admit that I'm worried I made a mistake. If we're making a mistake even now, being out here so unprotected. The city probably thinks I've kidnapped you."
"They will when they find the hidden note I left in my room."
Another burble of begrudging laughter escapes her, and there's a look on his face that makes her stomach swoop uncomfortably.
After a moment, his head drops back to the sand, and his eyes close. "That's the second time," he murmurs. When she doesn't reply- what can she say to that, anyway?- he opens one bleary eye. "We'll go back in a little bit. I just wanted... space. To breathe."
"It's heavy, all this. Isn't it?" The question is out before she realizes she even thought it. Before she remembers that she's not supposed to care. That his safety and his Waterbending are all that's supposed to matter to her. But now it's out, and her lips are still moving, tongue still forming words. "You love people, but you hate being the Avatar. You smile and wave and bless the crops and kiss the babies, but I've seen the look on your face after."
His eyes are wide with surprise, and she knows she's said too much.
She masks her fear with a drawl, and squashes down a feeling she won't look too hard at. "You're an easy read, too."
A hard swallow. "It's not real, any of it. I'm not who they think I am. They're thinking of Roku, a real Avatar with real political accumen."
"Everybody starts somewhere-"
"I don't want it." He sits up suddenly. "They don't even see me- they see him, or Kyoshi, or everyone who came before. They want me to be like them. To be like the legends, but I'm just a man. I'm doing my best, but I don't know how to be what they want me to be."
Katara frowns. The words are different- the scenario, too- but the feeling is the same. The anger, she understands. That feeling that she's always a step below what they were expecting. A lump of un-molded clay.
"I can't say it'll get better," she sighs. "I don't know. I can only say that, maybe... Maybe it'll get easier. Maybe things will make more sense, maybe we'll have a better understanding-"
"What 'we'? We've never been 'we'. You've never let us."
She falls silent. It's true, she hasn't, and now she's wondering when 'him vs. her' became 'we'. Became 'us'. How it's happening so easily, like they're still sitting on that bench in Yagoda's healing house, two years ago.
"Tell me what I did," he says suddenly. "None of the Northerners would ever tell me the truth."
Her anger returns with a vengeance. Bitter, choking. Nearly a thousand days as a pariah in a world away from home, only allowed a seat at the table when they realized he'd be back, and so would his questions. Does he deserve an explanation?
Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. But here they are, walls stripping slowly away, brick by brick, and by the light of their dying campfire, she can't muster the effort to keep putting the bricks back after they tumble to the ground. "You tried to help me."
A long, confused silence. "... What?"
"We sat on a bench in the healing houses, and I said I wanted to learn combat, but they wouldn't let me."
"I remember."
"And then you did something- said something. Told them to let me. I don't know."
He blinks. "I... mentioned it Arnook. Asked him why you couldn't... Said that, maybe, not every tradition deserves preservation."
The sudden meekness in his voice infuriates her.
"They made me pay for it," she snarls. She feels her shoulders rise with tension, and forces them back down. "Made accusations against me. Turned the entire Tribe against me. The only reason they let me fight at all is because they knew that you were coming back- they knew you'd wonder why I wasn't in training. Because you made some throwaway comment, an afterthought, probably, that I should get to play in the snowdrifts with the boys."
His mouth is agape, horrified. "I didn't know. They never said- I swear, I didn't know-"
"Of course you didn't. How could you?" Tears threaten to fall. Under her crossed arms, she pinches at her skin to keep herself under control. "But I've been alone for over two years, and even after all that, it wasn't my own merit that put me where I'm sitting now. It was you, and your throwaway comment, and the fact that you don't even know the kind of impact that you have, and now, I'm learning that you don't even want it."
"Why would I want this?" he demands. "I can't do anything without it impacting people in ways I never expected. Look at what happened to you- and Spirits, if you believe a word I say today, believe that I never meant for them to treat you like that. But I never asked for any of this-"
"I never asked for it, either."
"But we have it, and I just... I wish you didn't hate me for it."
"I want to hate you," Katara murmurs. "I've tried to."
At her tone- at the admission that surprises even Katara- his eyes widen. With hope, with confusion. "What now, then?" he asks softly. "Where do we go from here?"
"I don't know," she admits. "All I know is that I can't stop thinking that we're not as different as I thought we would be." Blue meets gray in the deepest of twilight, and once again, there is nothing left to share but the truth. "Maybe it isn't enough, but it's better than it was before. It's all that I have. Not friendship- not yet- but... an understanding."
"An understanding," he repeats after a long moment of silence, a weighted extension in time. Then, a smile, crooked and warm. "It's a good place to start."