Chapter Text
Sokka makes a long, high-pitched sound, and Zuko finally cracks open his eyes after spirits know how many hours of meditation.
“Katara! Katara! Look!” Sokka exclaims, far too excitedly for what Zuko can only assume as early morning. There’s no telling, really, what with the polar nights now well upon them.
Katara shoots up, having, at some point in her sleep, tilted so far that she became horizontal. “Wha—what? What happened?”
“Soil! It’s fucking soil! In the middle of—I haven’t seen warm soil in…I’ve never seen warm soil!”
“Sokka, shh! You’re waking up the entire village!” Katara chides between yawns.
Sokka all but leaps to her, grabbing her by the shoulder to shake. “No, you don’t understand—with their help, we could plant during the thaw—plant! Do you hear me?”
“Do you hear yourself, Sokka?” Someone hisses as she emerges from a tent. “We don’t need Fire Nation help!” She spits.
Zuko’s gaze finds Katara’s from across the flame, his entire body feels frozen over, even as every ember in him crackles with the bonfire. But then he sees the moment the words sink into her mind like a stone in water—
“Hey, wait a minute,” Katara whirls around to the lady holding a large pot in her hand. “You don’t get to say that when you were in there all night and not out here keeping our fire alight!”
“Katara! Have you forgotten the mother you lost to them?” Another voice, male and quivered, retorts.
Katara almost snarls. “And last night, I might’ve lost my only brother if it were not for them.”
“Enough.” And every head snaps to the old woman appearing from the igloo, Iroh holding her by the arm.
Zuko blinks. He hadn’t even realized that Uncle had disappeared.
“You would do well to remember that the vegetables in your pot are their gifts, Ilah,” the grandmother says.
“But Kanna—”
Ah. Gran-gran.
She raises a hand. “I will not lose another family to the Fire Nation nor to the frigid winters, but they are refugees, as I’d like to believe my son is, somewhere in the world—you do not need to trust them, but we shall extend the same courtesy.”
Zuko’s hands flex on where they rest on his thighs, fighting the urge to squirm, but his skin itches from the glances now directed at him. Some cold. Some curious. It makes him think of that one time he went to the zoo.
But when Iroh joins him again, Zuko can feel his presence in the fire—solid and unnerved. I’m here, he hears it in the sporadic snaps of the flame, and he feels his jaw unclenching.
Distantly, he muses if this is how the turtleducks felt. When Azula poked them with sticks and laughed too hard, and they scurried to him. Zuko wonders if his silence felt as safe as Uncle’s.
A mittened hand grasps his shoulder, and a steaming bowl of soup is thrusted right under his nose. “Eat, young man,” Gran-gran commands. “If you’re going to be staying, then you should learn to stomach the local delicacy—fair warning, it’s not for the faint of heart.”
Zuko takes the offering with a quiet thanks, and when he looks up, Katara is watching him with an otherwise blank expression—save for the playful glint in her eyes.
Unfortunately for her, he’s had it once before as a result of Sokka’s horrendous attempt at recreating Gran-gran’s stew. So, when he takes a spoonful to his mouth, Zuko barely flinches, and soon, he wordlessly lowers his clean bowl like a champ.
Uncle, meanwhile, seems to be struggling.
“Zuko,” Iroh whispers. “What is this…thing?” He asks, sounding perfectly offended by the chunks of squishy blobs.
“Sea prune,” Zuko replies, and decidedly does not meet his eyes.
Just because he finished his portion doesn’t mean he wants more.
Sokka plops down beside him. “You finished it!” He exclaims, and Zuko can’t decide if he sounded more amazed or horrified. Then, “That’s—I respect, General,” he states, nodding in approval.
“Just Zuko,” he reminds him, not really correcting.
“Right, just Zuko,” Sokka grins. “Anyway, don’t mind them, they’re—it’ll take a while for them to warm up…” And then, already halfway laughing at his own joke, he adds, “Get it? Warm up?”
Zuko sighs, pained. “I really wish I didn’t…”
“Aw, c’mon! It was good, Katara, tell him—” But Katara slowly shakes her head. Sokka groans, “You guys have awful humor!”
“Mn,” Zuko gives him a noncommittal. “I’d rather hear your theory on planting.”
Sokka’s face instantly lights up, threatening to dim the bonfire. “Right! Planting!” He rubs his two palms together. “So, we have about four months of what we call a thawing season—now, don’t think it’ll be warm! It won’t, not even warm enough for us to till, but some very resilient native plants will flower during that time ‘cause we’ll have enough sunlight.”
“And if you can’t tell, I’ve never planted anything in my entire life—but with this!” He gestures to the fire, and then to him. “With you? Maybe potatoes? I don’t think we’ll have enough sun time for rice. I will have to do research on vegetables… but potatoes…” He rubs his chin thoughtfully.
Iroh hums, considering. “It takes a long time to grow seeds, and it’s too cold here for the potatoes to sprout.”
“Drat,” Sokka pouts.
“We can find old potatoes on our replenishing trip—if they can sprout on the way, we can plant them before they freeze over?” Zuko thinks aloud.
Sokka’s frown deepens, but it’s Katara’s voice that cuts through. “You’re…leaving?”
Zuko turns to her. She’s still in her spot opposite him. “Some of us will have to, eventually, just for a while… to keep the ship from the watchlist. We can get more supplies from the Earth Kingdom while we’re there.”
Katara doesn’t meet his gaze when she asks again, “How long will that be?”
“Two weeks? Three?”
“And when will you be going?”
He tries to follow the line of her sight, maybe then he’d know what she’s thinking about, but he finds nothing more than soot and ash—perhaps she’s just worried about Sokka freezing again.
“Not any time soon,” Zuko assures her. “Most likely nearing the end of the polar nights.” Don’t worry, the words cling to his tongue. I got you.
And it’s as though she hears his unspoken promise anyway, because Katara’s face laxes, and a small smile sits on the corners of her lips.
“Zuko, you should rest,” Iroh says, and the moment the words leave him, Zuko is suddenly aware of the exhaustion gnawing at him from the inside. “Go, I will keep watch.”
“Will you be okay? I can stay,” he offers with a yawn.
Iroh clicks his tongue. “I may be old, but I’m still in my prime, nephew.”
That pulls a smile out of him.
In both lives, Iroh is a powerful firebender and a great general, but Zuko had seen him fight, then, and now he’s still not sure if he could ever win against his uncle.
Rising, Zuko twists this way and that, stretching himself. “Still… I’ll send Zora over.”
At the name, Iroh grins, and Zuko rolls his eyes. Unbelievable. Must he one day fight for his spot in Uncle’s heart against Zora, of all people?
Then again, better Zora than Azula. At least the former will share.
“Night, Uncle,” he tosses the word carelessly, already making for the village entrance, just as Sokka and Katara pass, carrying pelts.
“Oh, Zuko, where are you going?”
Zuko.
She called him by his name.
“Uh…” He grapples with a reply—anything at all that doesn’t sound infinitely dumb. “Yes,” his mouth moves.
Fuck.
“I mean, the ship—for some sleep,” he quickly corrects.
Zuko.
He’s forgotten how nice his name sounds coming from her lips.
“Let me take you,” she volunteers, dumping her portion of the pelts onto Sokka’s already towering pile. And before Zuko gets the chance to politely decline, she struts away, leaving her sputtering brother behind.
He’d offer to help, but Katara is waiting for him. “Sorry, buddy,” Zuko grimaces as he runs after the girl.
“Is this okay?” Zuko asks once he catches up to her, and at Katara’s inquisitive hum, he clarifies, “You coming with me.”
“Why won’t it be okay?”
Lifting one brow, he lets her see his growing smirk. “Moon berry wine?”
Katara blinks. Then, understanding, she pokes her tongue out at him. “Not that easy, fire boy.”
“You wound me, water girl,” he places his hands over his heart in mock-hurt.
She laughs, and it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard—like a lullaby pulled from the deepest, most cherished nooks of his memories.
“Besides, I’m here to keep an eye on you.” She walks in front of him, hands clasped behind her back. “In case you get lost.”
Zuko snorts. “Katara, I can see the ship from here.”
“And what if you’re tired from all that firebending? We can’t have you falling asleep out here!”
“I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“Or what if you need help navigating the ice? Your one eye hasn’t healed yet.”
“I still have one eye, water girl, not none.”
She turns to him, then, arms crossed over her chest and a challenge on her face. “It’s dark,” she argues.
It’s really hard not to smile. Will she ever know the power she has over him? A single word, and he feels his fire answering her the same way it would answer him.
Zuko jerks his head once.
Katara pivots and gasps.
Before her, somehow, Zuko has conjured two neat rows of little flames, hovering above the snow, illuminating their path.
“How do you do that?!” She cheers, running to the end of the pathway, but with each step she takes, another set kindles.
Zuko shrugs. “Firebending.” And he receives a snowball thrown at his chest for it. “Oh, you’re going to regret that.”
Taking a handful of snow, he hurls it at Katara, who squeals, shielding herself with her arms. She laughs, already aiming at him with another, and Zuko deflects it with a wall of fire.
“Hey! No fair!” She protests, indignant.
“Always agree on the rules before the duel, not during,” he drawls, picking up more snow. Then, voice lowered, he says, “Run, water girl.”
Katara yelps, then takes off with a howl. Zuko counts to ten before he chases after her. And even with the darkened sky, his trail of fire gives her away—as long as he keeps his eyes on her, they will never snuff out.
Sensing him nearing, Katara shrieks. He reaches out, just until his finger grazes the flailing end of her hood, but she turns, and in her shock, stumbles.
Zuko snatches her by the arm and pulls her inward, breaking their fall. They tumble, his arms wrapped protectively around her as his hand holds her head close.
By the time they’re sprawled, a giggling mess under the southern lights, his flames had disappeared.
“You cheated,” Katara states, breathless.
“You threw it first,” he argues back, heatless.
They lay there in silence for a while, watching the auroras glide above them. The sky is littered with stars like a million glittering dust.
And a voice in his head echoes: You wielded them for this.
Zuko turns his head to where Katara is staring up with the loveliest smile he’s ever seen.
This is his life now.
And what a wonderful life it is, even if only for a while—
Three years.
Three years until Aang appears. Three years until he needs to let her go. But until then—
“Zuko.”
“Hm?”
“What’s your favorite firebending trick?”
He shifts back to the sky, considering. Then, “Fireworks, I think.”
She props her body up on an arm, watching him with utmost seriousness. “What’s that? Is it like the fireflies?”
Zuko shakes his head. “No, they’re—so, you shoot fire into the sky, and when it bursts, it’s colorful.”
“Wow, that sounds magical,” she sighs, flopping back down, her face toward him. They’re looking at each other, and Zuko is trying his best not to pull her into him again.
“Can you do it? The fireworks?” She asks.
“Sure,” he replies. But then her eyes turn expectant as she bats them at him. Zuko laughs. “Uh, they’re usually done for birthdays. Or other events, like weddings—so I’ll make you a deal,” he says, and her brows reach for her hairline. “When you give me those moon berry wine, I’ll give you fireworks.”
Katara snorts. “Fireworks for wine?”
“For earning your trust,” he clarifies. “I think that warrants a celebration?”
“You’re ridiculous,” she huffs.
“And yet, you’re here…” he trails, finding it difficult to believe the fact himself.
Katara makes a soft sound, “Here,” she agrees, then, wincing, she adds, “And keeping you from your rest—sorry.”
“Don’t,” he softly chides. “Who needs sleep when they can have snowball fights with a water girl?”
She rolls her eyes as she stands. He really, really, desperately wishes he could hold her again.
“Come on, fire boy,” she nudges his leg with her own.
Groaning, Zuko peels himself off the snow, belatedly shuddering from the cold. Odd. It was perfectly warm a moment ago…
They talk all the way to the ship, until the shell door opens for them.
“Look who’s back,” a female voice trills as they step into the ship. “And hello, miss Katara, where’s your cute brother?”
Zuko shoots her a look. “Zora…”
“What? I’m just being honest,” she defends, raising her hands in mock-surrender.
“Uncle needs you to keep the fire going—but if you can’t behave yourself, I’m sending Kyung,” he warns, narrowing his eyes at her.
“No, no! I’ll be a good girl,” she grins, and Zuko does not believe her one bit. Then, turning to Katara, she asks, “Are you staying with Zuko? If you’re sick of him, we can walk together?”
Stay, he wants to beg her. Because he’s greedy—spirits, he knows he’s greedy—please, stay…
Katara looks like a mote of dust floating about the air. Not quite settling, not quite fleeing. She glances at him, and their gazes meet.
Zuko tilts his head and, unable to help himself because he’s a helpless, greedy man, he takes the smallest step to the side in a silent offering to let her pass through.
Yet, she sees it. Understands it.
A smile blooms on her face as she skips toward him. Then she says the words Zuko has died and fought the cosmos to hear:
“I think I’ll stay.”