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Zuko had never been afraid of bending before. The earth never gave him any reason to fear it. Nor did air, though mostly because the threat of airbending was nonexistent for the majority of his life. Even fire, though it burnt his flesh and marred his skin for the world to see on full display, never instilled fear in him. It was never the element itself that haunted him.
He wasn’t naive. He knew the elements were vast, and the level of control some benders wielded was extraordinary. Lightning was once seen as something impossible to bend, something from legend only, and yet his family excelled in it. When he first witnessed Toph bend metal, he was dumbstruck to say the least.
But water -- he never considered the full extent of water bending. He supposed, in some part of his mind, healing was its elite skill. To be able to manipulate the fluid inside one’s body and stitch it back together from the inside out.
He never considered that skill could be used in reverse.
He joined Katara on her mission to find the Southern Raiders, knowing full well he was in the company of a master of her element. Katara was one of the best, he knew: from experience in battle with her, as well as from the fact that she’d been entrusted to carry on the Avatar’s training. She had to have been an exceptional bender to be given the role of his waterbending master.
He stood beside her as she manipulated the ocean to wash the crew away into the sea, and a part of him was waiting for her to show signs of fatigue as she formed extensions of her arms to battle stray sailors left on board. She was a master, yes, but she was also younger than he, had little to no sleep, and she had been pushing her limits for the better part of the evening, surely even through the adrenalin her exhaustion must catch up to her?
Inside the ship’s hold he watched as she dropped her arms, thinking she finally let some of her guard down, her body weary. This is what he was here for, to be there for her when she needed backup. She lowered her arms, her body falling into a crouching stance, her hair falling in front of her face --
He watched her fingers twitch, and then the remaining crew each grew rigid, their eyes wide in horror, their arms locked against their side before contorting in a way so grotesque and inhuman it hurt Zuko to watch them. He turned back to Katara in confusion but realized with a shock that she was manipulating them.
All of the crew but the captain fell to the ground, unconscious, until only he remained, and Zuko brushed through the prickle of fear beginning to cloud his mind.
She let him go, dropping his body when she realized it wasn’t him.
They returned to Appa in silence, beginning their journey to find and face Yon Rha in silence.
As the sky began to lighten with the sun Katara finally met his gaze. The circles under her eyes were only emphasized by the hollow look of her face, making her look gaunt though the hard set of her jaw told him she was still set on her mission.
“There was a woman,” she began, her voice dripping with hatred, “from the Southern water tribe. She was a waterbender, and she was one of the final ones taken prisoner by the Fire Nation.”
Zuko knew she was talking about the raids on the South Pole to eradicate any chance of there being a new Water nation avatar. The raids that killed her mother and took them on the journey he and she were now on.
“She learned to find water wherever she could. Humidity in the air, moisture in nature. Sweat from the human body.”
Zuko felt his body tense up, waiting for her next words, knowing what they were before she said them but fearing their truth.
“Blood.”
Katara’s eyes were closed, shut tight against the truth of what she was saying.
She was scared, too.
He waited for her to speak next, but she didn’t.
They found Yon Rha. Zuko watched the realization of who she was hit him in the face; he watched as Katara stopped the rain dead in its tracks and turn them into shards of ice as sharp as glass and launch them full speed at him. He watched her dissolve them back into liquid just before they pierced him.
They left him crying on the cobblestone.
The ride back to the Western Air Temple felt a kind of peace in the air between them.
“Does fire scare you?” she asked, looking behind them with a hollow expression in her eyes. “Knowing how much you can destroy with it?”
Zuko thought about it, feeling the heat of his scar as if it was brand new again.
“No,” he answered.
“But…” she trailed off.
He looked at the sunset alongside her. “You know how I got my scar, right?”
He saw her shake her head in his peripheral vision, so minute in movement she wasn’t sure he did. He nodded.
“Uncle allowed me to sit in on a war meeting, and I spoke out against allowing an entire Fire Nation town to be sacrificed for the sake of the war. For disrespecting the General, I was challenged to face him in an Agni Kai.”
The scar over his eye burned with the memory, but his face remained smooth. Impassive. He’d made his peace with his past.
“I disrespected the General’s words, but I did so in the Fire Lord’s war room, so I faced him in the Agni Kai.”
Katara inhaled in shock. “The Fire Lord -- your father?”
He didn’t respond to the shock in her voice, nor did he mince his words. “I refused to fight him. I begged for his forgiveness in front of the entire audience, and he marked me for my insolence.”
She turned her entire body to face him and only then did he look back at her. She tentatively lifted her hand to his left eye, and he closed his eyes, giving her permission. Her fingers were cold against his mangled skin.
“I could be scared of fire because of what happened to me,” he said. “Or because of how people like my father and my sister choose to wield it.”
He opened his eyes to find hers swimming with unushed tears. “I certainly have reason to fear it,” he admitted, “and I think for a long time I was . I hated myself, anyways, and maybe the fire coursing through my veins only fueled my rage. Maybe that’s why I took up swords -- so I could fight without relying on something so deadly that was used against me.”
But then Zuko’s lips curled into something akin to a smile. “But I don’t.”
“Why?” she asked. “It’s caused so much pain and devastation, Zuko. It’s ruined so many lives -- yours, included.”
“Because,” he said, “of people like Uncle.”
She stopped, her chest rising and falling with emotions brimming just under the surface.
“Uncle reminded me time and time again that fire isn’t always bad. Fire isn’t just a way to keep a thirteen year old in check; it illuminates the darkness. It warms a cold room. It can make a delicious cup of tea,” he said, smiling.
A tear slipped over Katara’s cheek.
“But…” she whispered, looking at her hands, “I’ve forced people….” She clenched them into fists against her thighs.
“You’ve also healed people,” he interrupted. “You’ve saved lives, Katara. You’ve brought people back to life. You’ve fought with it, yes, but to protect villages, to preserve entire cultures .
“Water is a part of your life, Katara,” he continued. “You can’t be a master if you’re scared of your own power.”
The Temple was in their sights now, and Katara shook her head. “I don’t know how to get past it,” she admitted.
Appa landed on the earth and Zuko stood and stretched before placing a hand on Katara’s shoulder. “It isn’t the element that creates fear but the wielder. Water has been used against you but you’ve survived. Take that, and remember that.”
Zuko jumped off of Appa’s back, but before he walked back towards their camp he looked back at Katara.
“You’re a good person, Katara. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise, not even yourself.”