A wooden dock teetering on the definition of "disrepair" sat on the river's edge, a half hour's walk downriver from where Sokka had investigated where Katara fell into the water. The investigation didn't result in anything—when it came to spirits it rarely did—and they were forced to move on.

The river here was wide and went by at a crawl, making the body of water closer to a lake than a river. Katara was more than capable of waterbending an icy raft for them to use, but, not knowing who was out fishing during the day, Sokka decided to be safe and use the ferry.

The man running the dock—if it could be called that—leaned against one of the poles poking out of the water, straw hat shading his face from their view. When Sokka and Katara drew close, it lifted, revealing a sun-tanned face and a crooked grin full of missing teeth. "Fare's three copper pieces." There wasn't malice behind his expression, but it wasn't friendly.

Without taking his eyes off the man, Sokka elbowed his sister. "Pay the man, Katara."

"Okay, okay! Here." She passed the money to the stranger. The remaining jingle of their coin purse was worryingly quiet. This better be worth it, Katara.

The ferryman took the money with a mumbled, "Thank'um," and led them to the boat. The boat, at least, was in better condition, though not by much. It listed to one side and water lapped over the edge when they passed by a particularly strong current. Despite all outward appearances, the man was a good seaman and maneuvered the boat with practiced ease.

However, glancing at Katara, Sokka saw her gaze never leaving the village as it grew closer. Her expression was worried—more than usual—and he nudged her. "Are you okay?"

She turned to half-face him, the sunlight resting on her with its color turned into a warm yellow as early afternoon drifted into late afternoon. "The water…it's so unclean."

"Been like this for 'while," the ferryman said from underneath his straw hat, though no one had asked him.

Sokka responded, his worry momentarily forgotten as he began to investigate, "What caused it?"

"You mean 'causing it.' " He lifted his head and looked at the two of them as if they were the stupidest people in the world. "The Nation, 'course."

"Oh." It wasn't a surprise for either of them, yet ever since Zuko joined Team Avatar, it was getting harder to lump every bad thing under the faceless banner of the Fire Nation. Ozai was to blame, sure, as well as every one of his soldiers who followed his orders, but that wasn't the whole population. They were in the Fire Nation now, and clearly not all its citizens supported Ozai.

"Shoulda known you two were loyalists," the man spat when neither said anything further, and gestured to their red and black clothing which starkly contrasted with his own threadbare clothes too dirty to tell what their original color had been.

"We're not loyalists," Sokka insisted.

Katara added, "Fire Nation soldiers killed our mother."

The man eyed them both for a moment, then said, "Ah, I see the resemblance now," and turned back to his work.

More water slapped alongside the boat, and it drew closer to the village. It wasn't far off now. "What exactly did the Fire Nation do?" probed Sokka. Maybe they could find out what they needed from him.

"What didn't they do? We used to be a big trading city, you know?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Ships from every port used to come here before the war, I'm told. We still did well when trade was restricted to Fire Nation only. But now…they've destroyed everything with their factories and taken anything of value. I'm convinced they're tryin' to drive us away. Ha!" He let out an unexpected laugh that made Sokka and Katara flinch. "Little do they know we've got nowhere to go!" He laughed bitterly with a tinge of madness edging in, the kind that only stems from hopelessness.

At that, he swung the boat around, and they were at receiving dock for the village. The man flung a rope around one of the many poles to fix the ferry in place. Sokka and Katara got off, and the ferryman asked, "Plannin' on staying the night here?"

They shook their heads.

"I'll stick around for a little while, then. Ferry you back, you see. No charge—the three coppers cover both trips."

"Thanks…uh," Katara trailed off.

"Doc," he replied with a small tip of his hat. "No problem. You two were my only fares of the day and I don't 'spect to see anyone else."

"What factories were you talking about, Doc?" asked Sokka. That sounded like a hopeful possibility.

"The ones upriver." He pointed but there was nothing to see but brown water and a faded blue sky. Eyeing them again, he said, "I hope you don't go stirring things up. Last we need 'round here is more soldiers."

"Besides the soldiers, is there anything else that could be a threat to the village?" Katara asked.

Doc frowned. " 'Threat'? Why do you care? Say, what are you doing in Jang Hui anyway?"

"Nothing!" Sokka tried to keep the panic from his voice. "Just sightseeing," he replied weakly, already thinking about where they could run. We shouldn't have come.

"We heard the village was in danger," Katara explained. "We've come to see if we can help."

The man's expression relaxed but remained somewhat cautious. "I sure 'preciate kids like yourselves coming here to help, but unless you brought money or medicine with you—and I know you don't have the first one," with a knowing smile, he patted his jacket where he had stored his payment, "I think your efforts would do best somewhere else."

"Medicine?" Katara asked, and Sokka knew their fate had been sealed. Hopefully, she'd remember you couldn't just water-heal people—or whatever it was called—without a lot of questions.

-o-0-

"You should have seen them, Aang. It was awful! Those poor people." They had gotten back as the sun had finished setting, and Aang and the others sat around the campfire to listen to Katara's and Sokka's day as they ate.

Zuko had made the meal. The rice was slightly underdone, but Toph said the meat was piping hot, so not too bad overall. There was some remaining fruit, but it had turned too mushy for Aang to eat with any enthusiasm so Momo got a nice meal out of it. The real treat was Zuko's tea, which seemed to get better with every pot.

A steaming cup of it sat beside Aang as Katara continued, "Their sick house was full, and Xu—"

"Xu—what a joke!" Sokka said. "The water must make them crazy—"

"Sokka!" she admonished him. "That's not funny." Back to Aang and the others, she said, "The unofficial leader of the town, Xu—"

But Sokka interjected again: "He's got the same teeth missing! How could he be Doc's brother?—identical or not."

"I don't stare at people's teeth, so I don't know," shot back Katara. "Does it really matter?"

"I suppose not," Sokka mumbled. "It's just weird."

"Who're you talking about?" Toph asked, a bit of annoyance in her tone.

"No one; just some guy." Katara waved her hand dismissively. "What matters is the people are sick—and getting sicker because the river is getting more polluted because the Fire Nation has a factory up the river."

"They're not drinking the water, are they?" Aang asked, glancing at the dark river below, shimmering in the starlight and village lights. It didn't seem all that dangerous now.

But Katara didn't answer.

"Don't they know it's bad for them?" Zuko said, not the only one sounding concerned at the thought.

Sokka pointed at him like he'd just won a prize. "Exactly what I said!"

"Xu told us it's almost impossible to get clean water," Katara explained. "There's a spring half a day away, but it's too far away to be the town's only source of water."

"Just move, then," suggested Toph. "Half a day away."

At this, Sokka's expression became more troubled. He gave Katara a meaningful look before replying, "It's…complicated, leaving your only home—even when it's for the best."

Aang looked down at his hands. He had left his home so quickly, only thinking about himself and not what was best. That was what he should have done: it's how the Avatar needed to think: what was the best option, even if it hurt?

"I didn't have a problem leaving home," Toph reminded them. Speaking to Zuko she said, "My parents wanted me to be, well, not me." She flashed him a smile. "I want to be there when they find out I helped take down Ozai. So much for their perfect daughter."

"It's different," said Katara. "They're protected by the river—or they're supposed to protect it. It's hard to tell." Her eyes grew bright in the firelight. "The river is inhabited by a spirit: the Painted Lady."

A spirit! Aang asked, "Do you think she can help save the villagers?"

"It's not like she's helped them so far," Sokka said, adding a piece of wood to the fire. "Probably doesn't exist."

"I can't believe you'd say that," admonished Katara.

Sokka grimaced but didn't address her, choosing to continue to talk to Aang: "Like I said, even if she does exist, she hasn't exactly done anything to stop the Fire Nation or heal the sick—which would almost be worse."

Aang frowned. "How?"

This time, Zuko was the one to answer: "Because it would mean she had the power to stop, or try to stop, the Fire Nation and didn't." He kept his eyes on the fire as he spoke. "It means she didn't care enough to try."

"Zuko." Katara said his name softly, and he raised his eyes only to meet hers and then fall back down again. "Sometimes," she turned to Aang, "hope is more important than anything. It's something to believe in, even when the odds are against it. A symbol like the Painted Lady gives the people here hope that things will get better."

He nodded. "I get that, but…what are we going to do? Can't you heal them?"

"It's not about that," Sokka said. "It's about whether we should. If Katara heals them—first of all, it would draw a lot of attention. A healer who uses water, only water, to heal them is like saying, 'Hey, Fire Nation, waterbender—right here! Come and get her!' " He pointed at Katara in rapid succession. "Second, if it is the water that's making them sick, and it probably is, they'll still drink the dirty water, making whatever risks we take useless—"

"Cause they'll keep getting sick," finished Aang.

"Exactly."

Why was everything so complicated? Something that was a seemingly simple problem with an easy solution had morphed into another, bigger problem. Helping people in trouble—that was easy—but what if helping them put more people in danger? What if it put his friends in danger?

"Why couldn't I just sneak in, heal them, then leave?" Katara asked. "I know it won't last forever, but it'll do something—hopefully enough until we stop Ozai and the Fire Nation from poisoning the town. The villagers won't know it's me, and we can go to the next village."

"Yeah, let's do that," Aang said. That was something they always seemed to agree on: never giving up on people in need.

Sokka rubbed his chin as if he had a beard to stroke. Unlike how he'd do it for fun in the past, it really did seem like he was deep in thought.

"That could work," assessed Zuko. "It'd still be risky—"

Shaking his head, Sokka said, "Too risky. You heard Doc, Katara. We were his only passengers today. Passengers asking questions, too. If we leave the morning after everyone inexplicably is healed… It doesn't take a genius to figure out we had something to do with it."

"But we can't just do nothing!" argued Aang.

"We are doing something, Aang," Sokka replied, his voice taking on a sterner tone not unlike his father's. "Defeating Ozai. That needs to be our focus. We can't risk getting caught this close to stopping him."

"Sokka's right," Toph said, her tone gruffer than usual. "I don't like it, but he's right. From what you've said," she gestured to the siblings, "the villagers aren't fans of Ozai, but that doesn't mean they won't inform on us. If you guys remember, the Dai Li would offer money for information—any information. I wouldn't be surprised if the Fire Nation had something similar, and these people would probably do a lot for some copper pieces."

Sokka looked to Zuko. "Is there something like the Dai Li in the Fire Nation?"

Zuko thought, frowning at the same time. "Not really—not that I know of," he corrected. "His focus—the Fire Lord's—has always been on the war over in the mainland." He furrowed his brow. "But I don't remember hearing about any sort of uprising or revolt that would require intelligence gathering methods like that." Almost baring his teeth as he spoke, he added, "Not that they'd tell us if there was."

"Still," Sokka said, returning to the rest of them, "with a Fire Nation factory so close, and with a few soldiers probably inside, it would be too easy to tell them about the weird kids asking questions, who came and left after a dozen people were healed overnight."

But…but… Aang thought scrambled to argue but nothing came to mind.

"So we all agree: it's too risky to heal them," Sokka proposed, and Aang, as well as everyone else grudgingly agreed except Katara. "Okay?" Sokka put his hands on his hips. "Promise you won't try to do anything."

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded. "I promise."

-o-0-

After they had packed it in for the night and one by one fell silent as sleep came, Zuko remained awake, staring at the low, pitched roof of his tent. Every now and then a breeze would cause it to flutter in an irregular flap, flap, fa-lap. But that wasn't the only thing keeping him awake.

He swore to himself that he would never mention it, his renewed fear of the dark. It was childish, something he had gotten over long ago, but here it was again: monsters creeped outside his tent, whispering nonsense in his ears. These monsters weren't dark spirits or beasts in his mind's eye as they had been when he was a boy; they were men, shadow men, whose forms shifted and scratched against his tent, threatening violence.

They weren't real, of course. None of it was. "Not real," he mouthed, not daring to make a noise. He held a flickering droplet of fire close to his chest, shielding it with his hand so no one else could see the light slip through his tent. He'd hold it until exhaustion took him over and the flame extinguished when he finally slept.

Darkness pressed itself against his tent wall, trying to seep in like blood through a bandage. It was patient, waiting for the light to dim before edging closer.

But nothing happens when I fall asleep, the reasonable part of Zuko's mind argued. Nothing ever happens. But that didn't shake the insistent belief in the existence of the darkness' agents preying upon him. During the day, it sounded so implausible, impossible, stupid, but at night, the confidence in which he held those statements failed.

Enough of this. He let the flame sputter and die, and he let his eyes adjust to the darkness, though there wasn't much to see besides faint silhouettes of foliage moving across the side of his tent like a bad shadow play. "—challenge—" whispered a voice by his ear before it was snatched away into nothingness. The walls, fabric though they be, seemed to move closer with every flutter of wind. The ground outside his tent crunched with an odd footstep—

That couldn't be my imagination. He sat up and held his breath, heart pounding and ears straining to recapture the presence he had detected.

One second.

And then another.

Then, much more quietly this time, there was another footstep: the gritty sound of dirt underfoot that couldn't be covered up, no matter how quiet you were.

Zuko felt for his swords by his side and slid them into his palms as quietly and quickly as possible. Ducking to avoid his head from hitting the top of the tent, Zuko got up and let his ear rest by the canvas covering. The already faint sound was getting quieter. He had to move.

The tent flap parted when Zuko pushed against it, letting one eye glance into the darkness. It was surprisingly well-lit with the partial moon hanging just above the ridge line. No one was there.

A branch snapped to his right behind his tent and someone whispered something he couldn't make out.

Taking a step, Zuko peaked out from his cover, a sword held tightly in each hand. There were boulders and small sage bushes, but no one—

A small cascade of pebbles slid down the path Toph created earlier that day, all rolling on top of each other for half a second before returning to rest. It wasn't big or especially loud but it was more than enough to draw attention to the slight figure quietly cursing while making their way down the trail.

Zuko glanced back at camp before following. Half of him was already telling himself off for not waking up Katara, Sokka, some—Is that Katara? He did a doubletake but the person had already left his view. He wasn't sure—Why would she be sneaking around?—so he took one last glance back before sheathing his swords and scrambling after her.

He had done his share of sneaking around as the Blue Spirit, but the small ridge they were on was mostly bare of brush which caused small sounds to bounce off the rocks. It wasn't long before the figure moving below him stopped and lifted her head his way.

It is Katara!

Her wide eyes shone brightly in the moonlight before they narrowed, and she hissed, "Zuko! What are you doing?"

Me? "What?"

She winced and made a sharp downward movement with her hand. "Shh! Come here."

As he reached her, she said in a hushed whisper, though clearly annoyed, "Why are you following me?"

"Why are you sneaking around?" he shot back, matching her demanding whisper, but before she replied, the answer was already there: "You're going back. You're going to heal—" He abandoned the thought and focused on the more important one: "Why did you lie?"

"I didn't!"

"You said—"

"And I meant it!" She hugged herself in the cool evening. Glancing at the river below, she added, "I changed my mind."

"You could have said something. You told me that it's okay to disagree unless you start lying—"

"I didn't lie!" she insisted, raising her voice. She looked around and softened her tone: "I started thinking about everything and the village and the children—younger than us! Some of them are so sick, Zuko; I don't know if they'll make it before we stop Ozai." Gesturing to the village's lights, she said, "They shouldn't be the ones who pay for our mistakes."

"No," he admitted quietly, "they shouldn't."

Moonlight, though weak, splashed across Katara's face as she faced Zuko. Her regularly bright blue eyes had turned inky black in the light, and her brown hair was charcoal against the night sky. But she is still beautiful, he realized with a sudden lurch of his stomach. Still. When had he first noticed it?

"And," she said, a sudden thought occurring to her, and she reached for a small pouch hanging at her waist, "before you say anything about people recognizing me… You remember the Painted Lady?" After opening it, Katara let Zuko peer in to see several dark, pea-sized objects.

He gave her a quizzical look. "The spirit that didn't do anything."

She closed the bag and corrected, "The spirit who protects this river."

"Uh huh," he replied, still not certain what she was getting at.

"There was a statue in town," she explained, "and she's supposed to look like a young woman with face paint on. Red face paint." Katara shook the pouch. "I was able to find some reddish-purple berries I can make a paint with. If it's dark, no one will know the difference."

"So your plan is to pass yourself off as a spirit, heal people, then leave?"

"Yeah." She frowned, apparently unhappy that he was not accepting her plan without question. "Problem?"

She must realize if she's caught or they see through her disguise it affects us all, right? Rubbing his tired eyes, Zuko replied slowly, "I'm just thinking about the villagers drawing conclusions about you and Sokka." He glanced at her, and saw her expression. There was a reason why she left in the middle of the night. And if they think the Painted Lady is real… "The disguise will help," he weakly agreed.

The corner of her mouth lifted up into a small, amused smile. "I thought so."

Looking her up and down, Zuko didn't observe that she had done anything else to disguise herself. Even though she looked different at night, he had had no problem identifying her. Paint or no paint, she still walked, talked, and looked like herself. "Is there anything else you're using for a disguise?"

She hesitated. "I'm going to change my hair and maybe find some clothes."

"Any ideas on how you're going to get those?" Zuko asked, thoughts of breaking into shops already presenting themselves to him. In the past as the Blue Spirit it wouldn't have been a problem.

"I'll figure out something," she answered casually. Seeing his dubious reaction, she added, "I didn't ask you to help me, you know," and turned away, continuing down the slope.

" 'Help'?" Zuko exclaimed. More rocks tumbled by them as he pursued her. "I'm not helping you; I'm trying to stop you from getting us found out!"

"I'd like to see you try to stop me," she said over her shoulder. Her teeth flashed in the light before disappearing again.

Zuko growled. Why does she have to be like this? But rather than thinking of a good retort, he focused on keeping his footing until they made it to the river.

When he arrived, Katara was standing at the water's edge a step or two away from him. She twisted around. Once again, the moonlight lit up her face, her twinkling eyes, and her bright, easy smile.

"I think it's good you want to help," he persisted, "but you have to think about Sokka and Toph and Aang. Keeping out of villages keeps us safe."

Any humor she had had washed out of her. "And if those people die before we can stop Ozai?" She pointed upriver. "What does the future look like to them?"

"I…" Was it wrong to think of his future as more important than others'? Or what about Aang's future? Katara's?

"I'll be back soon."

Zuko closed the distance between them in a single step. "Let me go. I won't stop you." He gave her a pointed look. "Promise."

Katara's eyes narrowed. "I said I meant it before."

"I do too."

Then, after a moment in which it felt like she might say no—Zuko wasn't quite sure what he would do if that happened—her body relaxed, though she looked annoyed. "Fine. You can come, I guess."

There was some degree of relief but not as much as Zuko hoped. He wanted to ask her if she always got what she wanted, but that seemed true enough without waiting for an answer. Instead, he said, "But there's no ferry running at night."

Katara gave him a look usually reserved for her brother. "If only we had another way to get across."

-o-0-

Zuko watched as Katara bended an ice raft just large enough for both of them. It appeared to be a single piece of ice, impossibly smooth, and as cold as the ocean. Its sides curved up to form a shallow bow and they climbed aboard. Zuko crouched down and looked up at Katara whose feet were firmly planted, waterbending them across the river. The ice raft was a far cry from the Fire Navy ships, though, and they didn't cut through the water so much as bounced on top of it as they approached the village lights.

Fortunately, the town shut down at night, and only sparse oil lamps lit any part of the dock Zuko and Katara stepped onto when they arrived. Small waves lapped at the supports sticking out of the water, and ambient creaks and groans of the wood in response made the night not quite silent.

Katara gestured him to follow and led him through the various decks and rows that made up the ramshackle town. The way Katara had described it, Zuko thought it was a simple town down on its luck like it had been when he last visited. Instead, dark and abandoned homes greeted him. Shelters—they couldn't very well be called "homes"—had walls made from a mixture of scrap metal and planks of wood. What made it worse was some places looked like they were still lived in.

And then Katara stopped at a low building. It was one of the few with light peering out the shaded windows, looking for help or perhaps just letting people know someone lived on inside. Zuko wanted to ask what her next move was, but this place, over any other, would have people awake to hear strange voices in the night.

Katara jerked her head to the left, and they went around to the dark side of the building. This was the windward shore, evident by the stronger waves knocking against several boats tied to the dock.

She beckoned him closer put her face next to his. "We can go through the back entrance," she whispered, her words loud and warm in his ear. "I need to put the paint on first. See if you can find something to put over my clothes. We'll put back whatever we find."

That answered that question. Nodding, Zuko left to explore the nearby buildings, though he didn't dare stray too. Attention split between staying quiet and performing his assigned task, Zuko thought he got lost one time, only for him to turn the corner and recognize the light from the hospital acting like a beacon on the darkest shore.

He returned with a wide-brimmed straw hat as the only useful object he could find. It would hide her face as long as she kept her head down. In turn, Katara showed him her makeup. It was an odd pattern, made worse by the fact that it looked like she used her fingers to apply the berry-based paint. Nonetheless, it helped obscure her features.

She also showed him what items she had found: a torn blanket and some netting full of holes. She tied the blanket around her like a shawl wrap Zuko remembered seeing his mother and other ladies wear around the Palace. Undoing the ties that kept her hair in check, Katara let the rest of her hair fall to her waist and sat the straw hat Zuko provided over her head, the netting around the edge to change her appearance even more. Katara looked to him and raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question.

Altogether, she looked like an entirely different person. Zuko nodded his approval, though it wasn't like she needed it. Even so, she smiled. Thanks, she mouthed.

"I'll watch for trouble," he whispered, and she walked through the back door of the hospital, the lightweight netting flowing along behind her like a ghostly afterimage.

Stepping into the darkest part of the building's shadow, still making sure to keep close to the window in case Katara called, he waited and listened. The darkness creeped and crawled, but the faded moonlight and the knowledge that Katara was just around the corner helped keep it back.

Surveying the vacant decks, Zuko searched for anything out of the ordinary, but only flapping tarps or clanging windchimes disturbed the scene. The last of the moon disappeared over the trees and mountains, leaving the darkness to itself. Zuko pressed closer to the window, seeking warmth from the chill that had suddenly crept up.

A man's voice, weathered and withered, leaked through the open window: "Thank you, Lady."

Zuko's eyes darted to the source, but it was obscured by a sheet covering a window that had been cracked and broken by spirits-knew-what. He reached out, careful to dodge the fragmented glass, and pulled back the curtain.

There, sitting on the edge of a bed to his right, was Katara. Occupying the bed was an old man, older than Iroh, maybe as old as Grandfather was when he died. His skin was almost as dark as Katara's, probably caused by working in the sun every day—as a fisherman? ferryman? trader? It was impossible to tell.

Katara held his hand in both of hers, and she smiled at him through her veil in a way that made it seem as if they had known each other for years. It was such a warm expression—and strangely familiar. With some shame, Zuko remembered that it was the same one she gave him not that long ago when she was healing him; and, at the time, he had treated it as condescending pity.

"Thank you for believing in me. Now," she replied to the old man, patting his hand once more before setting it down at his side, "feel better."

"I already do, Lady. I never doubted you would come." The man's voice wavered. "I never did."

Smiling once more, though it seemed sadder that time, Katara stood and went to the next bed across from the old man so that her back was to Zuko.

A girl slightly older than Katara was sat up in bed, watching her with wide eyes. Her voice was full of suspicion when she asked, "You're the Lady of the River?"

The straw hat bobbed once.

"Prove it."

Dipping her hands in the bowl of water on the side table, Katara then drew them out with softly glowing water clinging to them. She let the girl appreciate the sight before saying, "I can help you."

Still cautious, the girl nodded her assent, and Zuko felt himself edge closer to see better. Katara placed her hands, still covered with water, on either side the girl's neck and bowed her head. Though he couldn't see Katara's expression, the girl's changed soon enough: it looked like a weight had been taken off her shoulders and her whole body relaxed.

But Katara wasn't done yet. Her hands remained where they were for another few seconds while her patient waited, her expression changing from elation to eagerness as she bounced her legs up and down. Finally, Katara let go, and the remaining water soaked into the girl's clothing.

Katara started to say something, but the girl leaned forward and gave her a hug. "Thank you! Thank you, Lady."

They stayed like that until the girl parted. "Thank you, again. Are you here to heal all of us?" She gestured to the rest of the hospital. Zuko adjusted his angle and saw close to six other bed-ridden patients, either very old or young, watching them or sleeping.

"I'll do my best," Katara choked out. "But you feel better?"

"Oh, yes! I guess it's true what they say about your healing abilities."

"Yeah," Katara answered with a subdued tone. Zuko didn't blame her. It was best not to go into detail about the Painted Lady and her abilities.

Moving onto the next patient, a small boy younger than Aang, Katara offered the same bedside manner as before. Zuko looked on, forgetting his role as lookout as he watched her work. Some patients required more convincing to be touched by a spirit, but they were all seen to eventually.

It wasn't until the last one was taken care of that Katara appeared tired. Her eyes, when Zuko saw her look up from under her hat, were bloodshot and her face was flushed. Despite the exhaustion, she made sure to check in with each person once more before she left out the back door.

"Everything okay?" she whispered. Her voice tight and wavering like she was about to cry.

"Yeah—are you okay? Sit down." But Zuko looked around and saw there was nothing to sit on besides the bare wooden deck.

Katara waved her hand dismissively. "I just want to go home. Back, I mean." She rubbed her eyes. "I want to go back to camp."

But she wasn't just tired; she really did seem like she was on the verge of tears. "You helped them, Katara. When we stop the Fire Lord…" he trailed off, watching the sadness build itself up. Her chin quivered, and she wiped away an invisible tear. "It'll be okay. We will come straight back here after we stop Ozai and I'll stop the factory and you can heal them again—for good this time," he offered.

Rather than stopping her tears, his words made Katara put her hand to her mouth, close her eyes, and silently shake her head. What happened in there that changed everything? He'd watched her almost the entire time—what could it have been?

"I didn't heal them," she said, though her words were muddled by tears and a hand still partially covering her mouth. "I couldn't." She wiped the tears from her cheeks, but it was only a momentary solution and fresh tears flowed freely to replace what was lost. "Whatever is in the water—dirt, trash, metal—it's in them too deep—"

"We can get Toph here and—"

Katara shook her head. "You don't get it. It's in everything, every part of them. Trying to rip out the metal, if it is metal, would probably kill them. Not to mention the pain they'd be in." When she said "pain," she glanced back at the hospital beside them.

"Are they in pain now?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It was the least I could do. I don't know how long it will last." As an afterthought, she muttered, "So much for the Painted Lady, Lady of the River—whoever." Seeing his concerned expression, she said, "It doesn't matter. They'll be cursing me as either a fraud or the Painted Lady soon enough."

"Katara—"

Waving her hand, she said tiredly, "I just want to sleep. Let's go back."

Nodding once, Zuko gathered up her disguise and returned the things they took, making sure that a pile of netting, a hat, and a blanket matching the description of the Painted Lady wasn't found next to where she was last seen.

Katara was tired, and Zuko tried suggesting they borrow one of the boats to limp to the shore, but she shook her head. "I can do it." She waterbended a new piece of ice, but it was more of a floating platform than a boat, and it was much smaller than the earlier one. As before, Zuko crouched down, but he had nothing to hold onto other than the edge of the raft. He should have been thankful that Katara was propelling them forward slower, but water constantly splashed overtop and soaked his feet.

Standing by his side, Katara continued to waterbend against the river's current. Her legs shook, and she stumbled only once before Zuko reached up and laid a hand on her back and took hold of her clothes, the only handle he could use to pull her back from the water in case she fell. Besides that, he could only watch her struggle, himself helpless to assist.

They made it back, but that amount of bending must have taken more energy than Zuko had thought, and she fell to her knees stepping from the ice-raft to shore. She stood and stumbled again over something unseen on the ground, and Zuko caught her arm.

"Here." Zuko took her arm and put it over his head, taking on a portion of her weight. Because of their slight height difference, he had to stoop some, but she was surprisingly light. She slumped against him without a word, her skin cold against his.

The moon had long since set, making the steep slope and path in front of Zuko nearly invisible. He only knew where the ridge was high above him because it was where the starlit sky met the impenetrable darkness.

Katara's breaths were soft and rhythmic next to him. Looking over, Zuko saw that her eyes were shut too. Is she sleeping? He didn't know it was possible to sleep while standing, but it certainly seemed like she was.

Thoughts drifting to the hike ahead, he pulled Katara closer so her weight was moved from his shoulders to his waist. It was going to be a difficult climb if he was carrying around dead weight, and he needed to keep a hand free to light the path. "Katara." He jostled her a little but she didn't stir. "Katara," he said again, and she raised her head.

"Sorry. Think I fell asleep," she mumbled.

"I know. You need to stay awake. I need your help. Can you stand? You can lean against me, but I need to make a light, and I don't want to burn you."

She nodded but didn't move. Her eyes had closed again.

"Katara."

She started with a little jolt.

"Come on." Letting go of her arm that had been slung over his shoulder, Zuko freed his hand and straightened his back. With a small twist of his wrist, a flame bloomed, instantly setting their surroundings in an orangish light with long shadows that jumped and skipped, dodging the revealing light.

"We could stay the night here," Katara suggested, squinting and rubbing her eyes.

Zuko looked back to assess their surroundings. "Sokka would have a fit he caught us." Finally, he spotted Toph's path. It was further upstream than he thought.

"It's okay. We'll be gone in the morning. We could use Appa," Katara said.

That doesn't make sense. Appa's not… He checked back on her. Her eyes were closed again. Oh. "Hm," he replied to appease her. He did his best to gently guide her to the beginning the trail, but she was stumbling over rocks and nearly twisted her ankle. The best thing that came out of that was it roused her more.

"Are you sure we shouldn't just risk it and wait?" she said again.

Zuko hadn't recalled the path being that long; it must have been a trick of the darkness that made it seem so high up. "We'll be okay. We'll just take it slow." Leaving Katara's side, he stooped and waved his flame across the trail. "I can see it just fine." He beckoned her to follow. "Come on."

She hesitated just long enough for Zuko to think she would put her foot down and say no, but Katara stepped to his side, her arm hooking around the crook of his. "You better not make me fall," she said, glancing at their dark surroundings. The air was cool, but Zuko suddenly felt very warm—or maybe it was just by comparison—Katara ran cooler than he did, right?

Why did it matter? And how long had he been standing there? "Er, yeah—I mean, no." He cleared his throat. "I mean, I won't let anything happen to you." The intensity with which he said it was surprising, but he supposed it shouldn't have been.

With a small tug of his arm as a signal, Zuko stepped forward with his left arm extended and held the orange ball of fire lighting their path. Katara stuck to his side all the way, and, after his initial nervousness, Zuko found that along with the firelight, her presence repelled the old fears from setting in.

Katara's feet dragged which caused her to almost fall several times throughout their hike, but they reached the top without incident. Their campfire welcomed them with smoldering embers left from dinnertime.

Pushing Katara along like she was a sailor after a few too many drinks, Zuko led her to her tent. She mumbled something unintelligible, crawled into her mat and under her blanket, and promptly fell asleep, leaving Zuko alone.

He watched her breath come slow and deep, at peace. Her face was relaxed, less of a worried healer and more like a girl. With a jolt, he realized how creepy it was watching her and hustled out of the tent, making sure to fasten the entrance shut.

It felt darker outside without the moon, without light, alone. Zuko cupped his hands and conjured the smallest spark he could that would light his way back to his own tent. Laying back down, sleep far from his mind, he recalled Katara's words: I couldn't heal them. Maybe if the villagers moved to another town or stopped drinking the water they could recover, but if nothing changed… If nothing changes, he thought, how are we any different from what Father is doing? He thinks the glory of the Fire Nation is more important than these people—aren't we saying the same thing about stopping him?

Yet this couldn't be—and wasn't—the only town whose fate rested on the outcome of Aang's fight with the Fire Lord. Team Avatar couldn't risk losing their element of surprise if they were found out. But…still…seeing those people in the hospital… It made him want to act, to do something to help them directly. Like Katara.

Even if it was only helping their pain for a little while, at least she did something, he thought covetously. They would be leaving tomorrow, so there wasn't time to do anything even if he wanted to. And what could I do?

That question, so ruthlessly adept at making one feel powerless, stayed with him as sleep enveloped him for the rest of the short night.