Before he could form a complete thought, the idea of protecting Katara, the instinct that could only be put into words following the fight, made itself Zuko's objective. Protecting his friends was the source of his bending's power, yes, but the statement accused him too, challenging his effectiveness as a protector.

He wouldn't fail.

The soldiers were in a standard wedge formation with the strongest fighter out front at the point, flanked by two others and supported by the final three in the back of the group. It was no mystery why the first soldier was chosen since he was head and shoulders taller than Zuko and was built like bulldog. 'Physical strength isn't everything, only intimidating,' Zuko recalled his uncle saying.

But, spirits, it helps sometimes.

He grabbed Katara's arm to pull her back before they attacked, but she resisted. "Zuk—" she started but cut herself off. Zuko hadn't noticed the puddle of water pooling around the soldiers' feet or how, despite the walkway grating, the water hadn't fallen through.

The air by where Zuko held her arm grew cool a split second before the water froze, trapping the six men's feet in place. They looked as surprised as he was; however, the icy hold on them wouldn't last long once they began to melt it. Still, it gave a much-needed respite.

Looking each man in the eye, Zuko held his hands at the ready. They were trapped, for now, and he could kill them if he wished.

Addressing the soldiers, Katara said, "The factory is flooding. The equipment is ruined. We're giving you the chance to leave here while you can. Warn the others, too; they can't be here anymore. You're poisoning this town, and you've got to stop."

To punctuate her remark, Zuko added, "You can leave here alive and never come back, or you can fight us and lose. Your choice."

Katara eyed him for a moment but then nodded.

The six men hesitated, then nodded as well, relaxing their shoulders as they did so. Then, each of the six pairs of eyes couldn't help but glance at something behind him and Katara. A flare of light reflected off the ice, and, whirling around, Zuko blindly firebended, hoping he was strong and fast enough to redirect the assailant's attack.

Though Zuko had covered most of their bodies with his fiery block, it did not cover them completely, and the oncoming fireball grazed Katara's leg. The familiar sick smell of burning flesh filled Zuko's nose.

Katara cried out and fell to her knees, holding her right thigh. A choking breath made it through Zuko's lungs while he stood frozen, listening to the pained gasps escape Katara. There were other sounds, he knew, but none that registered beyond the fact of their existence.

He looked away, dimly aware Katara had said something. Standing alone at the end of the hall was the soldier, the coward, who had run away only to attack when their backs were turned. Even now, he was shaking where he stood, yelling something that wouldn't change the fate he had chosen in attacking Katara.

Hot energy rolled through Zuko like a firestorm. It pulsed through his entire body, rejuvenating tired muscles and filling his body with feelings of power so boundless that his ability to kill Ozai, much less this worthless ant that stood before him, seemed as easy as a flick of the wrist.

The man firebended a stream of flame as Zuko strode forward. Zuko felt himself yell, felt the air carry his promise of pain as it pushed itself out of his lungs. Fire bloomed from his mouth, its heat no doubt turning his cheeks red. It easily overwhelmed the simple attack and continued toward the soldier. He was able to put up a weak defense to block the fire but not Zuko's kick as it connected with his diaphragm, sending him to the ground.

A wheeze of escaping air was quickly followed by a jerking gasp, and then another as the man tried and failed to catch his breath. When he tried to turn away, Zuko grasped his wrist and pulled him to his feet, feeling the limitless energy travel from his chi, down his arm, and into his hand. He could do it. He had the power. It was there, simply waiting to escape from his palm.

The man must have felt the heat radiating from Zuko's hand, or perhaps he was just afraid like all cowards were and wanted to escape, but, either way, he tried to rip his hand away. Zuko tightened his grip, letting the heat grow, and he felt blisters begin to form under his hand. The soldier would have to try harder than that if he wanted to escape with his li—

A shockwave hit Zuko so hard, it broke his grip, and he nearly fell over the side of the walkway. What was that? Whatever it was, it burned against his skin—

No, it wasn't hot. It was as cold like the waters up North, so cold that it felt like it burned you.

"Zuko!" an unmistakable voice shouted.

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Zuko looked around. There was very little to see because steam seemed to cover everything. It was like he had been thrown into the Spirit World Uncle sometimes talked about. There were no soldiers, no Katara, no furnace or factory.

Katara materialized from the warm fog, and she ran to him and grabbed his tunic, tugging him along. "Let's go! We need to go." She led him through the double doors and into the outer hallway.

What was she doing? He hadn't stopped them all. They'd be back just like that coward. "I need to stay. Finish—"

"No."

Equal amounts of frustrated anger and concern for Katara rose up. The fight they'd abandoned still called to him, urging to finish what he started, but it was noticing Katara's limp that allowed concern to win out. "Are you—?" he asked urgently, though to his ears he sounded angry. And so what if he was?

"I'm okay," she panted. "It's just a burn." They were walking quickly down the hall. Running would have been better, but it looked like that was all she could manage at the moment. It was more than a simple burn, but saying otherwise wouldn't help. They needed to get someplace safe first.

"Are you okay now?" she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on the door at the end of the hall.

It was an odd question to ask—of course he was okay! But it was then that he looked down at his hands and arms, and he saw the steam that had filled the room was coming from himself. The last of it floated off of his body and his now-dry clothes, trailing after him a few steps before dispersing into the air.

Zuko stopped, followed by Katara a few steps later. "We've got to go!" She waved her hand emphatically.

An alarm started up, a siren well-known to any military man, former prince or not. It signaled deadly danger and an oncoming threat. The hairs on the back of Zuko's neck raised, and his pulse spiked.

He started forward again, but stopped almost immediately when Katara took a step and stumbled to the floor. Going to her side, Zuko knew there was no time to say anything or for her to protest further that she was fine, and he hauled her up, putting her arm around his shoulders like the night before. She's killing herself helping those villagers.

They arrived at the short flight of stairs. He could be fast or he could be careful. He chose the former, taking hold of Katara's legs and lifting her off the ground. Her body shook, and it was no wonder: his hand had touched her burn. "Sorry!" he grunted, feeling the hot, wet skin momentarily brush against his palm.

After descending the stairs, he went to set her down but heard a shout behind him. His head snapped over to the voice. A silhouetted figure was running in the hall, but whether it was running towards Zuko or away, it was impossible to tell.

He quickly turned down another hall different from the one they had first navigated when they arrived, but it was out of the soldier's line of sight. Deciding to run to add more distance between them and the soldiers, Zuko kept carrying Katara and went as fast as he could, ignoring the pain he knew she must be feeling. Katara had her arms around his neck, holding tightly, her breath loud in his ear along with his own.

One of the doors along the hall had a sign marked Exit, and Zuko shoved the door open with ease. Then they were outside again in the cool, mountain air, though they had exited on a different side of the building. Rocks and craggily boulders Katara couldn't climb came out from the door in a V, creating a virtual fence with one way out: the water.

The half-moon shone faintly, its light only just illuminating the slow, dark river lapping at the shore a few steps away. The alarm could still be heard, though it sounded more like a kind of whistling wheeze of a dying beast.

"Zuko."

He set Katara down. She stood with all of her weight on her left foot and kept an arm on Zuko's shoulder for balance. Zuko glanced up and down their sliver of a shore. There was no boat or material to fashion one.

"I—I don't know if I have the strength to waterbend another," she confessed, her voice trembling from pain, fear, or exertion—or all three.

"You've got to, Katara." As strong as he was with firebending, there was no way he could manufacture anything to escape with. As much as Fire liked to escape, it rarely took on passengers.

More shouts came from the interior of the building. They sounded louder this time.

"Katara…" Zuko repeated, not bothering to hide the insistence from his voice. They'll be here any second. And then they would have to fight spirits knew how many soldiers. He opened his mouth to say, "Please," but that would be a waste of breath. She was exhausted and injured; why was he asking more of her?

"Okay," he finally said. He led her to one of the rocks large enough for her to hide in its shadow. It wasn't much; if any soldier took more than two steps from the door, they would see her, but there was very little else she could do.

Zuko took a breath and let it out. "I'll take care of it." He tried to say it as he imagined Katara would have: full of kindness and soothing confidence that made you believe everything would be alright, no matter what. Still, the words felt hot and angry as they left his lips.

"Zuko…" Katara whispered. She looked up at him, but didn't finish her sentence. There was simply no other option, no other points to argue, no other words to say.

I will protect her.

Leaving her there, Zuko stepped back into the moonlight, drawing his dual swords with no more than a slight scraping sound as they left their sheaths. It had been too crowded in the factory to use them, but at least there was more space to move around here.

And here, a mere ten paces away from the exit door, Zuko stood, swords drawn and eyes fixed on the door. Most of the energy that had buzzed within him had disappeared, though Zuko's heart still beat rapidly like an animal throwing itself against its cage. He let out another breath. He had to stay focused.

The alarm droned on for a little while longer and was suddenly silenced, letting the death throes of the factory ring clear in the air. A minute later, smoke began to rise from the building, blotting out the stars, and periodic bangs and cracks could be heard over the river. Somewhere further up the shore there were shouts and voices that drew Zuko's attention, but none of the owners made themselves seen. After the noises died down, small boats appeared at a distance, dark silhouettes floating down river toward the village lights.

Zuko stared at them in silence, watching them grow smaller and more insignificant. The men were not the only things floating in the river: trash, equipment, and other things he couldn't identify were in the water. So much for cleaning the river.

"Zuko?"

He turned. Katara was propped up on the rock she had hidden behind. Her hair caught the moonlight, but everything else was veiled in darkness. Despite that, her voice alone was enough to derive her meaning.

Sheathing his swords, Zuko replied, "It looks like they're leaving," and went to her. "Are you okay?"

Her head bobbed up and down. "We need to leave too, but…I need to create a raft and I don't know if I can right now—but I'll try," she added quickly. "Just help me to the shore and I'll—"

"You need to heal yourself first. If you don't treat your burns, it'll turn bad," he replied.

"If it's not safe to drink, I don't want to use it for healing wounds, but I can still bend it into something we can stand on to get back to everyone."

"Okay, fine. Let me do this first." Zuko knelt, seeing where her black and red Fire Nation clothes had burned away, where the skin glistened with a mixture of blisters, and, further towards the center of the burns, where the wet and dark wounds looked close to black.

Zuko took off his red outer shirt and tore off the short sleeves, then ripped the back into four strips as wide as his palm. After tying two of the strips together, he began to wrap Katara's leg, making sure to tie it tight enough to stay on, but not too tight. Every soldier in the Fire Nation was taught basic bandaging. It was not meant for more than keeping soldiers fighting until a healer could see them, and hopefully, it would do the same for Katara until they could find some drinkable water.

Except for a gasp when he made the final knot to fix everything in place, Katara didn't make a sound. The remaining two strips, to be used for later if need be, Zuko wrapped up and stuffed into Katara's pocket before he had her take hold of his arm to lead her to the river.

Water lapped at their feet. Katara closed her eyes and let out a trembling breath. It must hurt more than she's letting on, Zuko thought, and stiffened his arm so that it would be as strong and as stable as possible for Katara to rely on.

With one hand, Katara drew up a line of water like a short cord of rope, then let it fall back into the water with a similar hand movement. Keeping to a rhythm, she raised her hand up again, drawing more up this time, and let it back down. This continued, her slow pattern never wavering as more and more water was worked into a larger and wider wave, but Katara's grip on Zuko grew tight, and her breathing came more rapidly until, with a grunt of effort, she shot her hand out. Traveling like a ripple, the water froze into a small—much smaller than before—piece of ice. It floated, bobbing gently along, already being tugged by the current.

"Katara…"

"Go," she breathed.

He helped Katara lower herself to the ground as gently as he could before he ran over to the ice raft. The raft was nearly square, roughly as wide as Zuko was tall—no, smaller—and thick enough that there wasn't an immediate concern of it cracking if two people stood on it. Zuko stepped into the water and maneuvered their cold transport so that it was partially run aground.

"I don't think I can waterbend us there," she said wearily, almost apologetically.

"You've done more than enough," Zuko reassured her. "I'll figure out the rest. You just need to get onboard."

Katara nodded and let him guide her to the raft, getting on in such a way that the whole thing didn't tip over with the unbalanced weight.

There were at least two strokes of luck so far this night: first, the soldiers had left the factory by a different exit. Apparently, his threat of leaving alive and Katara's warning about the water were enough to stop them from looking for a fight.

That man… 'Waterbender scum.' Why did he come back? Familiar rage found Zuko again. He tried to kill her!

What if he had? What if Zuko had failed? Katara, as strong as she was, gone.

The imagined outcome sent a shock through his body, which was itself confusing. The soldiers had tried to kill him too—lots of people had tried to kill him before; that wasn't new—but, still, it seemed to go against reason to be more afraid for someone else's safety than his own. It felt odd and yet…not. In fact, it felt right to do it.

So why did Katara stop him mid-fight like he had done something wrong? That was the most puzzling thing of all. How could there be anything wrong with protecting someone as good as Katara?

Zuko blinked. How did I get thinking about this?

Thinking back to the current situation, the second stroke of luck this night was the fact that they needed to go downstream rather than against the current. Except to make sure the raft stayed away from the shore, all he needed to do was watch for the part of the bank they needed to return to in order to get back to camp.

He evaluated the factory exit one last time, door still wide open and empty, then pushed off, almost tipping them over in the process. Spirits, it's small. Quickly enough, the current took hold and drew them along at a lazy pace.

"Are you okay?" Katara asked, her back to him and looking off the bow—if you could call it one.

"Yes," he replied, frowning. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because you didn't seem yourself back there, fighting like that."

The still-angry part of him wanted to reply, So you think you know me now? but instead he said, "I've fought you a lot."

"Yes, but I've never seen you use your fists like that or just, I don't know, act like that before. You were yelling and screaming, Zuko."

"I know."

"I…" she said, suddenly looking unsure and hesitant to continue, but she did: "I guess it just scared me a little."

Katara's confession added to his confusion. "But I was—" he began.

"Fighting them back, I know," she interjected, turning to him and jostling the ice below them. "I didn't think you were turning bad or anything, but you are still changing, Zuko. You said it yourself: you're still trying to figure out what's right and wrong. I don't want you making a wrong decision because—"

"Because I was protecting you? I told you where I stand on that."

She nodded, but it looked like she wanted to say more. Quietly, she said, "I know, and thank you. It might have started like that—protecting me—but you were hurting that boy—"

"That 'boy' was going to kill you."

"He looked your age."

"No—" he started, but then thought about it: the haphazard appearance, the weak and unskilled bending. Before Katara had said anything, Zuko would have recounted the memory of the fight as with one ten years his senior, but now…. He shook his head. "Doesn't matter."

"You were hurting him when he had given up, and you didn't see me before I poured water on you. You didn't notice that I had flooded the factory either. That's what I'm saying, Zuko. You were focused on fighting him, not protecting me."

"He almost killed you."

"I'm alive because you protected me when he first attacked." She set a hand beside her wrapped leg.

"I was just…just…" The right words didn't come, and the ones that did didn't tell the whole story: "He hurt you, and I was just— I don't care who he is. He wanted to kill you."

Katara's brow had come together as he spoke, and she didn't say anything right away after he finished. Then understanding crossed her face, and then something else Zuko couldn't identify. She nodded once before turning back to face the river ahead.

That's it? He waited for her to say something else, but she remained facing forward. Is she waiting for me to say something? Apologize? Azula did that sometimes—not talk to him until he needed something and was forced to ask for forgiveness for whatever he did that offended her. "I'm not going to apologize for what I did back there." Katara twisted around to see him. "The only thing I'm sorry for is that I wasn't able to stop you getting hurt. But I won't ever apologize for hurting people who want to kill you."

There was that look again. Was it guilt? Embarrassment? She nodded once. "Okay," she said simply, looking him straight in the eye. And while he couldn't tell exactly what she was feeling, she didn't seem to disapprove of him, though she certainly didn't agree either. Then with a tired blink of her eyes, she turned back around.

They quickly arranged themselves so that Katara remained facing forward while Zuko sat cross-legged near the back and parallel to the length of the ice raft, allowing him to easily view the shore they sought to eventually return to as well as the upcoming rocks that could quickly chip away at the ice if they weren't careful. It wasn't much, but he also found a length of wood to push off rocks if they got too close.

Zuko watched in the following minutes as Katara's head repeatedly fell and jerked up as she woke. He was tired too, but this wasn't his second night of intense bending on little sleep.

Careful not to rock the boat too much, he scooted closer to Katara so that his right shoulder was up against her back.

"Hm?" She craned her neck to face him, her eyes half-closed and fighting to stay open.

"You're falling asleep," he said, keeping his voice low. "Here." Zuko nudged her a little with his shoulder, inviting her closer.

After half-turning so her shoulder rested against his, Katara set her head on top and mumbled, "Thanks," before falling into a deeper sleep.

Strangely, her head felt both heavy and light as it rested on Zuko's shoulder, and he caught himself staring at the nest of tangled and singed hair messily tied back. He looked away, but the pressure of her body against his remained. Despite the fatigue he knew was present in his muscles, it felt like every one of his senses was wide awake and focused on that touch, that connection with Katara. His face flushed with sudden warmth and the feeling traveled to his entire body.

He wanted to hold her.

The urge was so strong, his body shifted a little, like he had been physically struck by the feeling. He wanted hold her and care for her as she had cared for him not too long ago.

His heart pounded, and he looked down at Katara again, unable to keep away from her peaceful form. A section of hair had fallen in front of her face, but he didn't make a move to brush it away. He didn't dare move and risk waking her.