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He wasn’t breathing.
She’d rushed over to him, falling to her knees at his side as she turned him over into his back. Her water was already surrounding her hands all the way up to her elbows and it began to glow as she pressed it against his burning skin.
Push and pull, she willed as a sob broke free from her lips. Push away the lightning from his chakra, pull fresh blood towards the burn. Push and pull, yin and yang, Tui and La.
He still wasn’t breathing.
She might’ve refused to take healing classes while in the North but she still knew skills from her many years in her village. He wasn’t drowning, so she didn’t have to pull any water from his lungs before she spotted her mouth over his and breathed air into him. She continued like this for several moments: one hand healing with water on his chest, and then tilting his head and holding his nose shut when she forced air into his lungs.
Tears finally spilled free from her eyes as his lungs finally responded to her urging and his heart began to beat once more. He was still fighting.
She let her thumb stroke his cheek once before recovering her hand with water and pressing it over his heart, recommencing the steady push and pull between his wound and his heart. Push and pull, yin and yang, life and death.
It was just as their story was. He’d chased them around the world and she had sometimes fought and sometimes run. That’d been their push. The sacred middle ground, the intermission of their script, was their meeting in that crystal cave beneath Ba Sing Se. Part of her would always be there: two motherless children of different tribes, her fingers pressed gently against his scar, an offer of an unmarked future.
Of course, part of her would always hold that anger: of being betrayed by one so like her, who had taken advantage of her kindness, who had given his sister a victory that had led to another still, unbreathing boy with a lightning scar.
And thus began their pull. He was pulled away from his nation and towards her found family, and she pulled away from him, always keeping one eye on him. She did not, could not, force herself to trust him again. Not after he and Aang had redound their spark, not after he’d help save her father. Only when he’d seen her at her darkest and most enraged and stood behind her in his support, when others had chastised her, had she finally found her peace with him.
He had pushed and she had pulled. He had pulled and she had pushed.
She thought back to something he had said, in what felt like many lifetimes ago. You rise with the moon and I rise with the sun.
She should have listened to the truth he preached then, but at least she was listening now.
“Katara...”
Her eyes darted to his face at the sound of his voice, despite its weakness. She had to force her hands to stay on his chest in her surprise but was unable to keep in a happy sob.
“Zuko!” The words spilled out of her as freely as her tears. “You’re awake! You weren’t— you weren’t breathing, I was so scared you’d stop fighting—“
He tried to laugh, but the sharp intake of breath caused him to wince at the pain it caused. “Never.” He exhaled shakily. “Thank you.”
Still acting as noble as ever. She gave him a warm smile. “I think I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
His smile was small, but still visible and comforting. “You saved me.” He pushed his palms into the hard ground as he tried to sit up, but she pushed her hands back against his chest to stop him.
“Don’t move yet! You’ve not finished healing.”
His smile widened slightly as he let his head fully fall back to the ground and closed his golden eyes. “Whatever you say, Katara.”
She shook her head in resignation as she continued her work. She noticed that some of her tears had been added to the water and some part of her wished that they would work as well as the special waters from the North Pole.
“The lightning missed your heart,” she murmured as she moved her hands further to the center of his wound. Her healing had made his skin much cooler now, and he seemed to be regaining color in his face. She could feel his blood running more smoothly, and his chakra seemed to be clearer— but it would take time.
“Uncle Iroh taught me how to let the energy flow through me,” he responded, grunting as she finally let the water fall freely to the ground. She slid one arm under his lower back and wrapped the other around his upper chest as she finally helped him to sit up, and then stand. He was shaky on his legs, which was understandable. One of his hands moved forward to clutch at his abdomen while his other arm wrapped around her shoulders to steady him.
Katara watched as Zuko’s eyes drifted towards the screaming, weeping form of his restrained sister. Azula’s hands were bound behind her back with chains as she breathed fire through her cries.
“You beat her,” he stated, his voice full of respect yet with an undertone of rage. She knew the latter wasn’t aimed at her.
Katara nodded after a moment. “I had to, so I could go to heal you.”
His arm tightened around her at her words. “Katara, I— thank you.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder, not wanting to cause him more pain by hugging him closer. “Of course, Zuko.”
They stood in silence, faces hauntingly illuminated by Azula’s firebending as her wails echoed in the courtyard around them.
“You know,” Zuko said, causing her to look up at him in question. “The winner of the Agni Kai was to be the rightful ruler of the Fire Nation.”
Katara’s blood ran cold. “Excuse me?”
He looked down at her, his golden eyes glimmering with some hidden emotion. “Azula attacked you, which rightfully brought you into the battle. You won.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously at his smirk. “Congratulations, Fire Lady Katara.”
“You can’t be serious!”
He tilted his head slightly to the side. “Well, I could challenge you to another Agni Kai... but I think we both know you’d win.” The end of his sentence trailed off into a pained hiss as his muscles spasmed around his burn. A lot more healing would be needed before he was fit to fight again.
“The issue of who receives the crown can be put off to another day when you’re healed,” Katara reprimanded as she tightened the arm wrapped around his waist and began to guide him across the courtyard. “For now, we are finding your room and some more supplies so you can heal.”
“As you wish, Fire Lady,” Zuko muttered with a smirk as he leaned against her for support.
Katara rolled her eyes but stayed silent as she helped him up the steps to the palace. They’d have time to squabble over the right of succession later. All that mattered now was that Zuko was alive and they’d put a stop to Azula’s wrath. Once the moon rose, hopefully the war would be over.
She’d worry about tomorrow when it came.