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When Zuko goes out to the turtleduck pond for a brief respite between his meetings, he isn’t expecting to find Katara sitting there, her head resting on her folded knees. He knew that she, Sokka, and Aang were going to be travelling back from the South Pole for an upcoming diplomatic conference in Caldera, but he wasn’t sure when they would arrive, and he certainly wasn’t expecting to find Katara just hanging around in the garden. It’s a welcome surprise, though, and he likes that she feels at home here enough to do so.
She spots him and gives him a subdued little wave. Zuko is tired, stiff from spending all day sitting in an uncomfortable chair poring over documents, and in a bad mood – turns out, fixing a country is messy, arduous, endlessly frustrating work – but it’s still immediately clear to him that something is wrong. The Katara he knows would run up to greet him with a hug.
He gives her a nod in response, and sits down next to her.
“Hey. I didn’t know when you’d be arriving. Did you have safe travels?”
Katara nods. “Everything was fine. We just got here an hour ago. Sokka and Aang are unpacking in their rooms, but they’re not exactly the quiet types, and after a whole day stuck on Appa together, I wanted some peace. Is that okay?”
“Be my guest,” he shrugs. “I mean, I guess you are. Uh. But I mean – metaphorically. I mean you can come here whenever you want. To the pond, that is. And, uh, in general.”
Okay, so social skills have never been his forte. Plus, there’s something about Katara that always has him feeling a little flustered.
“Smooth,” Katara comments dryly.
He shrugs again, pulling out the piece of day-old bread that he had hidden in his sleeve for the turtleducks. “Long day. Lot of talking,” he says, and it’s not even a lie.
Katara hmm’s sympathetically. She doesn’t ask him any questions about the meetings, which he’s honestly grateful for. They sit there in silence for a while as he tears the bread into small pieces. She quietly holds out a hand. He quietly drops some bread pieces onto her open palm. They quietly feed the turtleducks for a few minutes, until the silence becomes too awkward for even Zuko to bear.
“How was home?” he asks. It’s a neutral enough question, yet Katara seems to flinch minutely.
She lets her eyes drift over the water, a far-off look in them; the line of her mouth is worried. “Home,” she murmurs, as if sounding the word out.
After a moment, she seems to shake herself off with some difficulty. “Home was good. It was great,” she smiles. Zuko isn’t fooled. That’s her “caretaker Katara” smile, the one she plasters on when she’s hiding her troubles because she thinks she needs to worry about everyone else.
“Katara,” he says, firmly but not unkindly. “What’s wrong?”
It’s a testament to how bothered the waterbender is that she caves immediately, her face crumpling into a picture of unhappiness.
“It’s just… you know how the Northern Tribe was going to send people over to help us rebuild?”
Zuko nods. “Did they not keep their promise?”
Katara looks down, almost embarrassed. “No, they did. That’s kind of the problem. They’ve done a great job and spared no effort. They’ve built bigger homes and palaces and fortifications. Everything looks... different now.”
The way she says it, with no excitement at all, indicates she doesn’t see this as an improvement.
“And that’s... bad?” Zuko nudges.
She shrugs. “I suppose it’s not. Sokka was losing his mind over it. He was over the moon - no pun intended. He thinks it’s amazing, all the– the architecture and mechanics and progress.”
“But you feel differently?” Zuko ventures.
“No, no,” Katara hurries to say, with a guilty expression. Then, after biting her lip for a second, she admits. “Well… yes. It’s just… it looks nothing like the village I grew up in. All the igloos are gone. Gran-gran’s home. The otter-penguin cliff. The snow wall that Sokka built. And there are so many new faces – a lot of Northerners moved down South permanently. Which… is good, I know it’s good,” she sighs. “I don’t want our tribe to die out. I know this will help them. I just…”
She looks up at him, her expressive blue eyes filled with sadness. “I feel like I never really went back home. The place I remembered is just… gone.”
He doesn’t know what to say, but his heart hurts for her. He knows all too well what it’s like to long for a place you can never go back to. But he doesn’t want to dismiss her pain by sharing his own; sometimes, he has learned the best thing you can do is just listen.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “It must have been hard to lose your childhood home.”
She takes a ragged breath in, hugging her knees to herself as if she’s cold (which she never is, not in the Fire Nation anyway). One of her hands trails over the water, drawing lazy circles in it – drawing comfort from her element, Zuko thinks.
“Aang doesn’t get it,” she says, a little sadly. “He’s a nomad. He thinks home can just be everywhere. He doesn’t believe in material attachments. But I just…” she shakes her head. “I don’t know why I can’t let it go. But I just can’t.”
“I understand,” Zuko rasps. Katara looks up at him, a little surprised – but of course he understands. When has he ever been able to let go of his home?
“It is not a bad thing,” he says, carefully, “to have strong roots. Some people are able to leave their history behind; others carry it with them wherever they go. You are a daughter of the Southern Water Tribe. It is forever carved within you.” He gestures at her necklace, and she touches the carved ivory almost subconsciously. “I am a son of the Fire Nation, and I always knew that. Even when my home had lost its way, I knew I couldn’t forget who I was. It doesn’t make you a bad person, Katara. It isn’t selfish to know who you are.”
Some of the sadness seems to lift off of her, but she still looks troubled. “Yeah, but where does that leave me then? My dad has settled back down and is so committed to our new home. And Sokka, well, he spends more time on Kyoshi Island now than back at the Pole anyway. But where does that leave me? Where do I go if I can never go back home?”
Here, part of him wants to say. You could stay here with me. He has missed Katara a lot – her strength, her kindness, her relentless optimism. Often he thinks that with her by his side, trying to steer his kingdom the right way wouldn’t be quite so hard. But he knows that’s not the answer she needs. He sits in silence for a few moments, tossing some breadcrumbs to the turtleducks. He wishes he was better at this. He wishes he could channel Uncle Iroh and know exactly what to say.
“If it helps,” he begins after a while, “Sometimes I feel like I never came back home either. I know it’s not the same as your village – the Palace was still pretty much the way I left it – well, perhaps a little bit more, uh, burnt down–” he fumbles, but it’s alright, because it draws a chuckle out of her. He wonders if she’s remembering it too, their fight against Azula.
“But what I mean is,” he tries again, “It was not the way I remembered it. I came back home, but it wasn’t the home I missed. Sure, it’s the same city, the same palace. But my mother wasn’t here. Most of my family is imprisoned. My uncle went back to Ba Sing Se.” And you guys left, he stops himself from saying. He knows he has no right to keep them here, but Agni, he misses his friends like a phantom limb. Who knew, he wonders, that there could be friendship like this out there?
“I guess what I’m saying is – maybe home doesn’t need to be the place you grew up in. Maybe home could be the people you grew into yourself with.”
He’s still not sure if that was the right thing to say, but then Katara smiles at him, a soft, bright smile, like the sun coming out from the clouds (and if his heart skips a beat in his chest, well, nobody needs to know).
“I think I like that idea,” she murmurs. “Thank you, Zuko.” Then her smile turns into a teasing grin: “Look at you, being all wise and stuff! Trying to steal Iroh’s shtick?”
“Ha ha,” Zuko says flatly, putting on an obligingly grumpy face, which makes Katara laugh again. He’s not sure if it’s with him or at him, but he doesn’t really mind as long as she’s not looking sad anymore.
“I mean it though,” she says, turning serious again. “Thank you. Maybe it’s okay that my home has changed, as long as I have Sokka and Dad and Gran-gran. And now I also have Aang, and Toph, and, well–” she flushes ever so slightly as she speaks “--you.”
He supposes it shouldn’t be so unexpected – they did save the world together after all – but it still takes him by surprise, flooding his heart with warmth. Katara considers him home. Suddenly, his day doesn’t feel so heavy and tedious anymore. He’s going to hold this thought with him through his last council, and well into the night.
He gets up, brushing breadcrumbs off his robes. “I should probably go. Will I see you at dinner?”
“Oh, I don’t know, am I invited to share the mighty Fire Lord’s repast?” she teases.
He rolls his eyes dramatically. “Not with that attitude, you’re not.” She sticks her tongue out at him, then laughs again, finally sounding back to her old self.
He’s about to turn to leave when she calls for him: “Hey, Zuko?”
“Yeah?”
“You know that the same goes for you, right?”
He frowns, feeling like he’s missed a step. “I don’t get dinner with my attitude?”
She rolls her eyes at him, but he can tell she’s amused. “No, you doofus. I mean that – you know – if you ever need a little piece of home… well, I’m here.” She smiles, her cheeks going slightly pink. “I just mean… well, I hope you know– I can be. Home, I mean. For you. If that’s what you want.” It’s fascinating to see her be the one fumbling for a change, but Zuko can’t even make fun of her for it, because suddenly his throat feels very tight.
“Yeah,” he chokes out, inadequate as always, but he hopes Katara knows what he means. He thinks she does. He swallows, willing the lump to go down, and clears his throat.
“I’ll see you at dinner, then.” He bows slightly.
She nods at him, a small, fond smile on her lips. “I’ll see you at home.”