Twenty-Two Days After Sozin's Comet


"Zuko."

Katara woke me with a shove so hard I almost fell out of bed. I groaned, wiping the crust out of my eyes.

"What?" I groaned.

I'd lost all concept of time since we'd been imprisoned—but she'd chosen to wake me up in the middle of a dream. And judging by how much of a sweat she'd worked up in the time that I'd been asleep, I must've been out for a few hours.

"I need your help."

I opened my mouth to protest, then promptly shut it. The look on her face was absolutely murderous.

I shook my head. I knew exactly what she was getting at.

It's better if I play dumb. "With what?" I asked, my voice raspy.

She pointed to the lone window in our cell.

She'd spent the better part of our afternoon and evening trying to waterbend the bars apart, jogging in place and using her sweat as her source of water, but it was no avail—she'd made some dents in the bars, but that's all they were, dents. And even if she'd succeeded, and if she'd managed to break the bars apart, the window was about the size of a mail slot, maybe a little larger. It's not like either of us would actually be able to fit through it.

And, even if we could—we were deep underground, somewhere in the depths of the Fire Nation prison system, sequestered away from the rest of gen pop. We'd be caught long before we ever found a way out.

I explained all of this to her, of course. But that didn't stop her from trying.

"Do you think, if we blasted the door with enough fire—"

"—you mean if I blasted the door with enough fire, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Humor me, okay? Just tell me—if we did that, do you think it would be enough, to melt the door down?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I mean… maybe, if we were in another prison system. But we're not."

"What do you mean?"

I got up from the bed, and walked towards the door. I created a small flame, and brought it up to the metal. As I did, the flame bent around the door, almost as if it was repelled by the metal. I put the fire out as quickly as I'd started it.

"I don't know exactly where we are—this cell isn't like anything I ever saw at Boiling Rock." I pointed to the door.

"But that metal, that's Fire Nation prison metal. I know that much from my father," I added darkly. "It's protocol, that when you take Firebenders prisoner, they have to be put in special cells."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning the metal is magnetically charged, so that whenever you bring heat to it, the source of heat rebounds. That way, you can't bend your way out. You'll go up in flames trying."

Katara shook her head. "There's gotta be a way."

I took in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

After I'd told Katara my theory about why Azula threw us in prison together—how Azula and my father were probably banking on Katara getting pregnant, so they could have a rightful heir to the Water Tribes—she'd oscillated between enraged and upset.

Now, she was purely manic, in a way that I hadn't seen her before. Not even when we went to find her mother's killer, or when Aang disappeared in the days leading up to Sozin's comet.

If I'd thought Katara was manic back then, those versions of her had nothing on the version standing in front of me now.

It was such a stark contrast to the Katara I'd seen the rest of our time in prison. I thought back to our first few days imprisoned together. How she'd spent most of it alone and sobbing to herself, before we finally got to talking.

And then came three days—no, four days—of straight talking, of us relaxing and enjoying each other's company, while we awaited certain execution.

And then came the sex. And that was a phase I wasn't ready to let go of.

You fucking idiot.

"Listen, Katara…"

I reached out to place my hand on her shoulder. She slapped it away.

"…believe me, if I thought there was a way out of here, I would've said it already. There isn't. And even if there was—we'd be right back in here, before we found our way above ground."

She shook her head furiously, fighting back tears as she did.

"I'm sorry. I know that's hard to hear."

"No, Zuko, it's not," she snapped. "Because I don't accept it."

And with that, she took a few steps forward, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and went back to waterbending at the bars.

"Katara," I groaned. "Seriously, give it a rest. The guard will be here any minute—"

"Good!" She kept waterbending as she spoke, the sweat hitting the bars with a clink every time she did. "Then I can bloodbend us out of here."

She was trying her best to sell it, to sound convincing. But I could hear it in her voice, and see it in her bending—she was exhausted. She barely had the energy to waterbend her sweat against the metal, much less something as taxing as bloodbending.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep?" I patted on the cot. "Get some rest, we'll give it a go tomorrow."

She stopped waterbending. She turned around, narrowing and fixing her gaze right on me.

"I've done nothing but rest for the last three weeks," she spat. And then she laughed. "Actually, that's not entirely true, though, is it?" Her voice dripped with venom as she spoke. "You and I have gotten up to plenty of fun, recently. Hell, we might even give your lunatic sister and psychopath of a father an heir from it!"

My face burned. She was so far away from me, in the cell. Ever since I'd told her my theory about the bloodlines, she'd recoiled from my touch, as if she couldn't stand to be within a few feet of me.

What I would give, just to be close to her again.

"So, as nice as it's been—" she jerked her thumb behind her back, "I'm going to get back to trying to find us a way out of here. Okay?"

And with that, she turned around, and went right back to waterbending.

I looked at the back of her head as she did. I had the curves of her body memorized by now, from all of the times we'd had sex, but still—it was something completely different, to watch her waterbend. Even for as tired and malnourished as she was—as we both were—I was mesmerized, as I watched her slash at the metal bars.

"Katara."

She didn't stop. She kept slashing at the metal bars.

"Can we talk about this, please?"

She sighed. She turned around. "Talk about what?"

"This!" I pointed at her, and then to myself. "Us, I mean."

She raised an eyebrow. "What about us?"

It stung, but I tried my best to ignore it.

"Look, Katara—I'm sorry, okay? I should've told you my theory sooner." She scoffed, but I continued. "But that's all it is—a theory. For all I know, we could wind up being executed tomorrow. We haven't seen my father or Azula since we got here, I have no idea what they're planning…"

She shook her head. She was fighting back tears.

"No, Zuko, it's okay." Her voice finally softened. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself."

She finally moved away from the metal bars. She plopped herself next to me on the bed.

"My whole life… as scared as I've been, I've always had hope. Even when things looked really bleak, I never stopped fighting or believing, that there would be a way to win this war. And, I just—these last few weeks…"

She trailed off, her words hanging in the air.

I thought back to a few weeks ago, when we'd seen the Ember Island Players. How they spoofed Katara, and made her out to sound (her words, not mine) like a "preachy cry-baby, who can't resist giving overemotional speeches about hope all of the time."

And then I thought about the version that sat in front of me, in our dank fire nation prison cell, drenched in her own sweat from trying to waterbend us out. I thought about how for the first time in three week weeks, this was the first time I'd seen that same fire in her since we'd gotten to prison.

At least, outside of our bedroom activities.

I felt a sharp pang in my chest. It hit me then, as she sat across from me, the exhaustion plastered across her face.

Whatever feelings I had for her, however much I wanted them to be reciprocated—I was an outlet. A distraction, a tool, nothing more than a means to an end. A way for her to get off and take her mind off of how objectively fucked of a situation we were in, mind-melting orgasms be damned.

How fucking foolish of me.

"I'm sorry I've been such a distraction," I muttered under my breath.

"Zuko."

She said my name gently, but I couldn't bring myself to look at her. She grabbed my chin, and forced me to look at her.

Behind her eyes, I saw a glint of something. Fire, lust, I couldn't really tell—but all things considered, I was realizing how fine of a line it was, between the two.

Before I could think better of it, I wordlessly closed the space between the two of us. I reached around and grabbed her hair by the fistful, drinking her in, my kisses hungry and desperate and wanting for her.

And, fuck, was she reluctant at first.

"Wait—I just…"

"Katara," I breathed against her mouth.

She bit her lip, looking up at me, practically squirming in my lap.

I knew her body well enough to know her cues at this point—that while she had her convictions and her mind was set on channeling whatever energy she had left into breaking us out of there… she couldn't help herself. That—try as she might—she was wet, aching to have me inside of her again, if only for one last time.

The words spilled out of my mouth before I could think better of them.

"Please. One last time." She was so close, I could hear her heart racing. "I need you."

And with that, she caved.

Our bodies collided together as we melted into one another, kissing and somersaulting on the bed with forces so far beyond wherever we'd gone before that we ricocheted off the cot and across the cell. She was panting, still sweaty from her attempts at waterbending the metal bars, while I worked the fabric off of her body and pulled it over her head. Why did we even bother with clothing, anymore? It wasn't like there was anybody there to see us.

I ran my fingers against her bare skin. She'd fallen on her side when we stumbled off the bed, and I was already seeing the beginnings of a bruise.

But Katara either didn't notice or didn't care—she was too busy pulling my trousers down, then working the shirt off over my head, as she trailed kisses from my neck to my collarbone, finally making her way down towards my fully erect member.

She was about to work her mouth around my cock, when I remembered—I was her tool. Not the other way around.

"Wait," I whispered gruffly. She raised an eyebrow, and I pushed her back, a little harder than I meant to.

She cried out—from pain or from pleasure, I couldn't really tell—but when I plunged my tongue into the folds of her clit, her reaction was all the confirmation I needed.

"Holy fuck, Zuko—"

She clasped her hand over her mouth, whatever attempts she made to keep her moans at bay feeble at best. Her legs shook as I lapped at her cunt, tasting her warmth and drinking her in.

If this is the last time—you better give her one hell of a sendoff.

"I just want to make you feel good," I breathed against the insides of her thighs.

I worked my fingers into her pussy. Her legs clenched around my hand, her body shaking, as she doused me with cum. An almost animalistic cry escaped her throat as she did.

"I—I think I'm going to…"

I clamped my hand over her mouth, muffling out the sounds of her cries as she came, because for all we knew, the guard could be right around the corner.

She barely gave herself a second to recover from her orgasm. She yanked my hair by the fistful, pulling me up away from her cunt and forcing my lips to crash back against hers. Her hips moved in tandem with mine, her warmth positioned so the tip of my cock was teasing her entrance. All the while, she was trailing kisses down my jack, my neck, slowly making her way until she was biting my ear, before whispering in it.

"Tell me how badly you want this."

Chills went down my spine. She'd already brought me to the edge, with nothing but dirty talk, and the pleasure of watching her cum.

And it was then that I realized just how royally fucked I was.

"I'll always want this."

I knew, the second I plunged inside of her, the second those words came out of my mouth, the second I felt her cry out as her pussy tightened around my cock, as I thrust in and out of her while she dug her nails into my back—I knew, then and there, that there would never be a "last time." That we were fooling ourselves to say otherwise.

No. Katara and I may have been each others' firsts, and we may not have had anything to compare it to—but we were goddamn liars, if we said we weren't going to do this again.

"Fuck, Katara—"

I was at the edge, positioning myself to pull out, before I could spill myself inside of her. But she stopped me.

"Don't," she commanded.

There was a sharpness in her voice. It registered a split second before I came, the wave of ecstasy washing over me, threatening to drown out the nagging voice in the back of my head, the one that said, why the hell would she do that?

Afterwards, we lay in bed awake for a while, neither of us saying anything. I finally worked up the nerve to rip the band-aid off.

"So…why the sudden change of heart?"

Her fingers were laced in mine. She mindlessly ran her thumb against my knuckles, and thought for a moment before responding.

"Because I realized—if we're going to keep hope alive, and get out of here in one piece… getting pregnant with the Firelord's grandchild might not be a bad idea."


Katara was a terrible liar.

She was trying her best to sell it, so I gave her a pass, and didn't press any further. We didn't say another word about it, after we finished having sex. Instead, we silently re-dressed, waited for the guard to come, and drop off our one meal of the day. And as he did, to her credit, Katara made no attempts to bloodbend him.

He slid the tray through the metal bars, like he did every morning. Katara and I brought the tray down, sat on the ground, and subsequently ate, like we did every morning.

Except this time, there was a palpable tension in the air, but one entirely different from the one we had before our first time having sex. No, that ship had long sailed.

This tension was something else. Something in a league of it its own, that I'd known deep down for weeks, but wasn't yet ready to admit to myself.

I watched as she slurped her porridge. She looked the opposite of lady-like as she did—and yet I'd never found her more beautiful.

Yeah. I was so screwed.

As it turned out, we would have to wait to address the elephant in the room between us. Because as I watched her eat, I noticed as her spoon scooped up a small scroll of bamboo parchment along with the grains, and in a knee-jerk reaction managed to grab her wrist before she could swallow it.

"Don't eat that."

Her eyes widened as she looked down at the spoon. She tossed the bowl of porridge to the opposite side of the cell, and frantically unrolled the parchment paper.

She glanced it over once, twice, three times, before she finally threw the parchment at me. "I can't understand a word of this. Can you?"

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have been able to. But I recognized the message hidden inside of the characters, haphazardly scribbled on the parchment paper.

I look up at her, and tried my best to keep my voice steady.

"Well?" she asked.

"It's my Uncle. He's sending us a message."

It was an inside joke that Uncle and I shared when we said our goodbyes, the day of Sozin's comet.

"I've re-conquered my tea shop, and I'm playing Pai Sho every day," I read aloud, keeping my voice low, even though the guard was long gone.

"Which means…?" Katara trailed off. I could see the gears turning in her head, and watched as it clicked into place, the realization hitting her.

She remembered, when she'd found us in the Jasmine Dragon, all of those months ago.

"Do…do you think this means—"

"—that my Uncle freed Ba Sing Se, the day of the comet?" I nodded, my heart racing. "Yeah, Katara. I do."