Archive of Our Own

The day is dreary and quiet as everyone takes shelter in their home from the bothersome showers that temporarily halt the busy life of Republic City. Regardless, Katara walks through the empty streets revelling in the feeling of her element surrounding her. The sound of rains beats along with her heart and the harsh noises of droplets hitting metal and banners make her feellike she can see with her eyes closed. The wind is low, barely even ruffling her long skirt and failing to make the water bender even the slightest bit cold. She feels alive while the city trembles and shivers.

Katara plays with the water dripping off the points of her umbrella, swirling the droplets through the air and freezing them into snowflakes before she drops them. They melt instantly as they fall to the ground, suffering immediately in the heat of the pavement. 

As she rounds the corner familiar neon signs flash at her. 

Zhao’s Convenience.

She smiles, skipping quickly to make her way under the red shelter above the door. She shuffles under it, slowly closing her umbrella and proceeding to push inside. The bell dings above her and she is greeted with the ever recognizable smell of fire lilies. Huge bunches of them lay at the table right by the door, ‘Bouquets to Go’ Zhao had called his newest idea. From behind the counter, she can hear the small box television blaring on about the weather. Over the buzzing of the old electronic device, she only catches half of what the news anchor says: April 30th 300AG marks the beginning…  A week of devastating showers like the world has not seen for more than a century…

Katara bends off the water that had seeped into her sneakers and pushes it to the flowers that are still confined to small pots on the inner windowsill of the store. She smiles as she looks around herself. The convenience store has become something of a comfort to her in the past few weeks since her arrival in the city. With no family and less than a handful of friends that lived here, the move-in was much more nerve-wracking than she had imagined. And yet, despite his bitter and headstrong demeanour, Zhao had given her somewhat of a calm sanctuary in the middle of the bustle of city life.

Today however, something surprises Katara. Something new has taken up space in this little store. 

Zhao grumbles out at the customer in front of the checkout, “What’s with you kids coming in at times like this, huh? What if I wanna close up? What if I’d like to watch the matches? 24/7 doesn’t really mean 24/7!”

The stranger, suddenly aware that he is not alone in the quiet, turns slowly. His head reveals itself under a black hoodie. He doesn’t look much older than Katara, but something beneath his skin has aged him, has put him through years of pain and forced him to accept the dark side of humanity before a child ever should have to know. Her eyes are drawn to the scar that has burned the left side of his face, it is red and glaring and almost grotesque. She resits frowning, he would misinterpret it as disgust. His eyebrow raises slightly as his eyes widen, finally taking in her appearance.

Katara isn’t sure why, but she can’t seem to breathe.

“Hello?” The man at the counter snaps, “Cash or card?”

The stranger turns around again, coughing and then mumbling out a response before he hands Zhao a crumpled bill. The owner complains about the state of the bill, but the boy isn’t listening. His head is turned slightly to Katara, watching her through the corner of his good eye.

Katara doesn’t realize how long she’s been standing by the door until the boy makes to leave. He meets her eyes one final time, lips pulling into a frown like he is trying to place where he’s seen her before, and then he pulls the glass door’s handle. The bell dings again and he is gone.

For very long, she isn’t sure what to do with herself. Her heart is racing in her chest but she isn’t tired, no, this is pain. Pain that she thinks she has never felt before. Or perhaps she has. If this feeling was new, she isn’t sure her heart would be able to handle the ache. This feels like soreness she has learned to hide.

She doesn’t know why she feels this way, she could not possibly have become infatuated with a boy she met minutes ago. But still. But still. The aching persists and her hands shake, her head feels heavy on her neck and she can’t find it in herself to just stand there. 

Something snaps in Katara. 

No. I can’t let him go. Not this time.

She jumps out of the store, Zhao yelling after her not to come back drenched in rainwater and dripping all over his floors. But she can’t hear anything, not even the rain anymore, all she can do is look for him. The stranger. The one that tugged her heart and made her soul ache when she barely knew him for seconds. 

There— she spots his figure turning the corner at the end on the street and she runs. The umbrella hooked on her arm thrashes against her leg as her feet splash on the puddles in the pavement. Faster and faster, she pushes herself, she can’t lose him. Finally she reaches the end of the street and rounds the corner, he is a few steps ahead. 

He stops, like he knows she is behind him.

Katara drops her run and stands, breathing heavily as the puddle of water at her feet soaks her shoes. The rain has drenched the rest of her. Everything about this moment makes her feel completely powerless to her element. 

“Wait. Please,” she begs.

The boy takes a deep breath and continues walking, never turning to look at her.

She scowls.

Katara walks after him, “I said wait!”

He doesn’t listen, making his way down the sidewalk. His footsteps are so light the water collected in the dents of the concrete barely stirs as he walks.

Now she runs after him, “Stop!”

He doesn’t make to turn down another corner. He doesn’t speed up. Like he wants her to follow but is too unsure of himself. He can’t figure out why a complete stranger yelling at him at the onset of a storm is making him question, making him falter, pulling him like she is magnetic. 

She catches up to him quickly, slowing down behind him.

She grabs his hand.

Electricity runs through her, shooting up her arm and straight to her heart but she can’t let go. He takes a sharp breath, his hand tightens around hers. Katara feels like she recognizes something, some feeling or some emotion. She isn’t sure, but she knows her head is aching, like she is barely surviving a fever, much worse now than it was in the store. Her soul is burning like she is being cooked by the spirits in a sacred vat of oil. Her eyes burn with tears, she doesn’t understand why she wants to cry but the feeling is clawing at her throat. And her hand, it is hot and painful and his skin is searing hers but she can’t let go. She is frozen into place. Standing still in the rain that terrorizes them.

“Zuko?” it rolls off her tongue.

Where did the name come from? Why does it feel… like home? 

“Katara,” his voice is broken with pain that she feels she’s caused.

He lets go. And he runs.

Katara stands in the rain, waiting for it to cool her down, but she is on fire.

Moonlight streams into the water bender’s room that night. There is an unwavering wave of fatigue that overwhelms her body the minute she returns home, but her mind is still bursting with confusion and her heart aches with a feeling she can’t place. The feeling isn’t fear, or anxiousness, or even distress. Katara can’t make it out it at all. But she knows it burns deep into her soul like it will only relent when she does something— fixes something. 

As her eyelids flutter shut, the clouds shelter the glowing light peering into her room and she is drenched in darkness. Sleep overtakes her much quicker than ever before, like it is not exhaustion pulling her under but an external force.

When her eyes open, she can tell she is far from home.

No, not far— It feels familiar. So familiar. Like the name is at the tip of her tongue.

Surrounding every bit of her vision are the largest clouds she has ever seen, like great giants watching over her as she stands in the middle of this heavenly sight. When she turns, she sees spiralling towers reach up to the sky like they are searching for spirits in the galaxy above them. From her spot she looks on to see two enormous mountains that lay the base to more soaring towers and delicately crafted abodes. Bridges stretch out at either side of her, long and winding towards the two other islands of the sky. When she spares a glance over the edge of the land she is on, the ground is lost to her. Fog sits at the circumference of the rocks underneath her like protection, a safety net from a miscalculated fall or a deterrent for invaders. A breeze flows through this haven that she thinks she can name— a temple. Yes, this is a temple.  

There is a sense of peace here that Katara has not know for very long. Tranquility thrives in this quiet sanctuary and it feels as if all the winds, all the clouds and every bit of the sky would execute all their energy to save the truly awe-inspiring home that is built in the air. And she knows — she just knows — there resides unending compassion, serenity, and acceptance in the great walls of this community. 

It fills her heart with a new feeling: something like nostalgia but she can’t understand why.

A blur of orange and yellow darts in front of her, wide smile coming to stop inches away from her.

“Hurry now! Avatar Yangchen is here!”

When Katara looks down she finds herself in a body she doesn’t recognize, small and younger and fairer.

A hand tugs at her wrist, “You can’t be late!”

She is dragged along through carved paths, past distinguished figures, and over the winding bridge to the final city in the sky. A long moan resounds through the air and Katara can’t place where she has hear it before. 

Her companion looks to the sky, finally dropping her hand and grinning even wider than before. 

As Katara lifts her gaze she sees a large round mass descending towards their place on the island— a flying bison. She remembers reading books about them, great creatures that weigh tons yet are the most gentle of all the ancient animals. Another deep noise echoes as the magnificent animal’s appearance grows from the size of a ball into all of its hugeness. As it lands, Katara doesn’t stumble under the sudden shift of the ground accommodating its weight. She wonders how her body is so accustomed to it, on top of all the other questions streaming her mind.

Two figures descend from the flying bison, walking towards Katara who has suddenly felt a compulsion to bow. When she lifts her head she sees that the tall woman’s hair starts a few inches away from a natural hairline and cascades down to her shoulder. At her head and hands there are blue arrows tattooed on her skin. Wide sleeves, a popped collar, and a circular pendant at her chest all come together to make her look as regal as ever. Her smile is the embodiment of comfort.

The woman calls out to her, Katara doesn’t recognize the name but her voice is under the compulsion to respond.

“Avatar Yangchen, I am so honoured to be chosen.”

“I hope that our time together will prove to be beneficial for you,” she nods slowly.

She turns and gestures behind her, “I trust that you two will aid each other greatly on your paths to mastery.”

Katara tilts her head to look around her as a small figure emerges from the Avatar’s shadow. Different from the woman, his head is completely shaven. The boy meets her eyes hesitantly, searching her face like he is looking for any indication of malice. It seems he is satisfied, seemingly realizing Katara holds only kindness in her heart, when he bows his head slightly and gives her a wide smile.

Katara’s vision blurs then.

The world shifts and pushes her forward through a blur of images. Colours and sounds speed past her so fast she can barely process what she sees before it is pulled away behind her. She sees travels through the sky. She sees afternoons of practices in meditation, quick reflexes, and defences. She feels water pushing through her fingers in play-fights in rivers. She smells sweet baked potatoes from short visits in foreign cities. She hears hushed conversations watching constellations glisten against the dark blanket of night.

Then she stops, her whole being is thrusted into a scene that stops Katara’s breath. 

Destruction is afoot in a town that must have looked so peaceful before whatever monstrosity has been brought here. Her eyes are pulled to the looming shape that towers above the residences. A dark spirit. It hurls its gloomy fists to the homes, swallowing them in otherworldly evil and dissolving the infrastructure. 

Shouts echo around her and she finds herself stuck in place. Her foot is caught under a fallen rock, the wind billows against her skin and the earth below her grumbles in distress. Katara struggles to free herself, shouting for help and looking to the sky for the bison that now seems to be her only hope. Her body is aching from wounds she feels just now, the bone in her leg proving to be the strongest source of pain. Her hands dart outwards to bend air against the rock, but the soreness in her arms restrains her from completing the forms properly and her panic restricts her flow of energy. 

A cry resounds in the air. Everything stills. Katara’s head snaps up.

In the hands of the evil spirit is the boy. Her heart stops. She doesn’t know why, but she thinks her world might end now.

She reaches out. 

He is consumed by the darkness.

“No!”

Katara jolts awake. 

Her hands come to clench at her bedsheets as her eyes dart around her bedroom in the darkness. She tries her hardest to place herself. As she looks down she notices the clothes of orange and yellow that clung to her figure just moments ago are gone. She lifts herself up to a sitting position to look to her mirror and a wave of relief washes over hers when she recognizes her reflection. 

She takes a few more breathes, helplessly trying to calm herself, before she reaches over to her phone on the bedside table.

4:15 am.

She groans, a strong headache coming on almost immediately. She shifts in her bed again as she makes to lay down. Katara bends the water from her jug, pulling it into a small ball and pushing and pulling at the liquid to calm herself. 

As she stares into the water that glistens under the uncovered moonlight, her mind tries its best to make sense of her dream. She’d seen things she’d never learnt about or experienced and yet it all felt so familiar. It felt like she was watching her own memories, not playing the part of a character. There was a feeling like nostalgia, so strong and yet so foreign when she recalls the faces and landscapes. 

And then she thinks of the boy. Shy and sweet and caring. From the many moments that sped past her, she could piece together a decade she had spent with him. Learning, growing, playing, and something else… 

Loving?

She blinks, moving her hands to rub at her eyes.

Never before has her mind conjured such beautifully painful dreams. 

Katara thinks only the heart-aching reality of life is to blame, that this is not some dream, but stolen memories.

☼

The yellow light of his old bulbs burns into Zuko’s eyes as he trudges into his studio apartment the next night. 

His mind is still reeling from his encounter with that girl— Katara — and the strange dream he had afterwards. He shouldn’t press himself to think much of it. But he can’t get her out of his mind. He can’t forget how her touch felt against his hand. How empty he felt when he let go. How he felt he was being pulled back as he ran away. 

He thought he could find solace in his sleep when he returned home but he was met with a rollercoaster of emotions that tugged at his heart. The dream made him feel like he was on top of the world and then instilled in him a sense of fear that scared him more than he can ever explain. 

He saw a life with a girl he didn’t know and yet everything about her felt comfortable. The few conversations he could make out told him how they grew together. The first few hushed talks were hesitant and tender like childhood crushes always are. The next were filled with bated breath, mindless babbling and confessions with the right amount of cliche that all teenagers dispense. And finally, were the ones that were filled with promises, hope, forgiveness, and warmth.

But everything was tarnished by the end of it all. The grabbing, the pulling, the aching, the fighting, the carnage, the monstrosity.

He shakes his head, trying to rid his mind of the memory of all-consuming darkness. 

It’s a few hours later, still much earlier than his usual bed time, that Zuko finds it very difficult to blink away the stinging fatigue in his eyes. The essay he’s trying to complete is proving to be more and more difficult with every minute he tries to keep himself at his desk. He looks to the word count in the corner of his screen, praying to everything watching over him that he’s somewhere near finishing.

500 words.

He groans, slamming his head forward onto the desk. Then, he thinks that perhaps a nap is exactly what he needs to recharge his brain and get him energized for the rest of the night. Finally, he sits up from his desk and stretches before throwing himself onto his bed. The deafening sound of the rain hitting the city with all the strength nature can dispense lulls him to seep. 

It takes seconds for him to slip away from consciousness, like some supernatural force is pulling him under.

His eyes open to an expanse of pure white. A clear blue sky, dotted with barely any clouds, fills his vision. In front of him is a shoreline but it is nothing like he has ever seen before. White. The sea in front of him, though dark and shifting like always, is so different because it is decorated with shards of ice floating atop its surface and stretching out to the horizon. Much larger, closer to the coast, are ice bergs that Zuko thinks must be five times his size or more. 

A chill runs up his spin as the wind around him picks up, blowing light brown hair into his face. His hair. His brows furrow in confusion as he looks down to the thick blue and white clothing he wears. Dark mittens protect his hands and, over top of what seems to be his insulated pants, is a parka dyed the colour of the sky. It is decorated with fur and traditional embroidery. The patterns mesmerize him and a feeling of homesickness spikes into his heart like the frigidity biting his bones. He peers in closer, like if he can just make out the meaning of the swirls and shapes he can figure out where he is and what must be happening.

“Can you believe that!”

His head snaps up to his left. 

Beside him sits a girl his age, short hair reaching under her ears, adorned with beads, and framing her amused smile. Her face is round and her brown skin contrasts the blinding reflected light that surrounds them. The blue in her eyes hauls his heart like it is a lost object at sea. 

They are leaning against a mass of snow and Zuko only now feels the wetness and cold of it seeping into his clothing. When he gazes behind her he sees a scenery he never before thought he could find beautiful. Large frosted mountains extend out farther than his eyes can make out, they ascend into the heavens like they are meant to be a passage to another world. 

She giggles and he loses control of himself. Everything following this plays out like a scene, like he is a puppet and the audience at once. He has yet to know the puppet master.

“I’m surprised Avatar Kuruk isn’t being hunted by all the fathers of the world. He’s broken too many girls hearts.”

“I guess that’s what happens when you fuel a sixteen year old boy’s ego enough to start a bonfire.”

She gives him a dumb stare, “Oh and you’re what? The wise elder of our tribe?”

He grins, “Precisely.”

She rolls her eyes at that and pulls a teasing grin, “You know, my sister was telling me you’re gaining quite a devoted following too…”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Why?” he asks, as if it is the most bizarre thing he has ever heard.

She blinks at him for a minute, searching his face. He simply watches her. She throws her head back, laughing at his naivety.

“What!” he exclaims, quick to agitate as always. 

The girl pulls her mitt off and begins to list off her fingers, “You’re acknowledged as the strongest warrior of all the boys. Your father is the highest ranking general in our navy. Your mother is the most accredited healing teacher. All the elders think you’re the most respectable child they know. Every girl — and every boy frankly — swoons over your good looks. Need I go on?”

He shakes his head slightly, “Oh… I never really thought about that.”

“Of course, you didn’t. You’re not very perceptive when it comes to your perfections.”

Perfections? He doesn’t understand.

She shrugs her shoulders and continues, “Well, in their eyes you’re completely perfect. They’d all do your bidding at the drop of a hat. How does it feel to have all the power at your fingertips?” she teases but there is a glint of seriousness there.

His brows furrow, frown pulling onto his face, “I don’t care about any of that. I only care about you.”

Her face falls, amusement completely gone and replaced by a twinge of sadness, “Maybe that’s what’s holding you back.”

“What?” his tone is sharp, like he is at the brink of total fury just at the implication that she may not be good for him. That could never be. Never. 

She is everything to him.

“They say the chief will choose you for his daughter next full moon.”

His eyes bulge but he does good to blink away the shock. He takes off his right glove and reaches for her hand.

“I’ll refuse.”

Her hand tightens against his, “You know you can’t do that.”

How could she say that? Was this some long-winded joke he wasn’t getting?

His eyes search hers and only find melancholic candor.

His head tilts in confusion, “W— What? Are you just… expecting me to marry some princess I don’t even know? Because someone else wants me to?”

“You know I—”

“No! I can’t. I can’t give you up for some— some random brat.”

She hisses his name to scold him for speaking ill of their superiors. 

“I don’t care,” he scowls, looking away, “I don’t care what anyone has to say.”

“Listen to me…” her other hand comes up to rest at his cheek and she pulls his face towards her, “You should think of your family.”

“My family can’t ask me to sacrifice my happiness.”

“If you won’t sacrifice your happiness for your family then who will you sacrifice it for?” she says softly, like it is the simplest thing in the world.

His eyes sting again, different from the sting of fatigue. A tear rolls down his cheek, a hot contrast to the cool air around them. 

She relents, seemingly decided that it was wrong to push him to confront this unsurmountable obstacle. He is still too tightly strung to her. 

They sit in the silence which is disturbed only by his sniffling and the shifting of his clothes as he wipes away at his leaking eyes. Misery and hopelessness devour him. He feels like he is losing everything at once for a sin he never committed, because she is pulling away for no reason. 

She had mentioned before how loving someone means letting them go, and he had nodded along. But he never accepted it. Maybe he is selfish, maybe he adores her much more than any human should, maybe his devotion is truly unyielding like the kind in the stories the elders would tell them as kids. He can’t let her go, not for power or wealth or someone else’s happiness. 

After several long moments, when the breeze has cooled his warm face, she moves closer to him.

“Hey,” she wipes away his tears and places a kiss at his cheek, “Let’s head back okay? They’ll notice we’re gone.”

He nods slightly.

“Get the sled ready. I want to see the sun set.”

As he steps away and her hand slips out of his, his heart rate picks up. When he runs down the hill of snow, feet pressing into the endless feet of white and back facing the burning reds and oranges that begin to seep into the sky, he thinks something is wrong. He shoves the thought away, not wanting to make a saddened day soured further by anxiousness. 

Minutes later, he stops at the sled, pulling at the handles and the ropes. He realizes how he had lashed out, how he had been irritable and unfair to her. He wants to apologize, the argument playing over in his head again and again.

Then, he hears the rumbling. His hands drop everything. And he runs. 

Back up the hill.

Towards the sunset.

To save her.

But a boy can only run so fast, even a warrior. And he can only bend away so much from an avalanche, a force of nature. And he can only dig so much when it is all over, the snow stilling in place. And he can only scream for so long before his throat runs dry and the chilling wind seers his lungs. 

But a broken boy, he can cry for much longer. And he can withdraw from all the concern and affection in the world. And he can spend years blaming himself. And he can force himself to live a life just for the happiness of others, because his happiness has been stolen forever.

When Zuko wakes this time, his chest feels heavy with the weight of a heart that has hurt far more than anyone can bare.

☾

Katara thinks she never wants to sleep again. 

These dreams feels like nightmares now. She thinks that a spirit has taken to seeing her suffering. It lures her into a slumber, tempts her to stay in a dreamworld by showing her wondrous sights and a bewitching boy, fills her with feelings of loves so meaningful that they ache her heart, and then rips it all away at the very end. 

She hates watching it all. She hates being fooled. And most of all, she hates that she’s addicted to these other lives she gets to live out. But the latter is easy to drown out if she lies to herself. 

Now, when she lays into bed it is out of spite. She tells herself that she’s spent enough time on the internet learning about lucid dreaming to force her subconscious mind to bend at her will. She will not be a slave to whatever force is wrenching her heart around for amusement.

When her eyes fall closed, she repeats the steps she’s watched a dozen videos about. And it works for a short while, she can control the landscape her mind is making and she can see herself as she knows she does. She can walk through a whimsical city she has constructed, a sight pleasing and free of the horrors of the dreams from days past.

But it does not work for long. A darkness begins to envelope her mind’s vision. She struggles against it, but fails. Everything dissipates and the strength to fight her mind slips away.

Katara sees a different scene now, not like any of others that had been pushed onto her.

There are rolling fields of wild green grass and a forest that lines the outskirts of a village she thinks is hers. The air is crisp and fresh, the wind is strong. If she strains her ears, she can hear the crashing of waves onto the coast. The sky is lined with large cumulus clouds that decorate the atmosphere like wisps of cotton candy. In front of her is a sizeable plot of land, the groomed and tended nature of the soil tells her it is a small far. Short recurring clucks come from the edge of the land where a small red henhouse is kept.

It is her house, but it doesn’t feel like home.

A voice pulls her away from the scenery and out of control.

“What are you doing?”

Her body turns and she’s greeted with a menacing grimace from a woman standing at the doorstep of a small cottage.

“Going out.”

The woman steps out, eyes narrowing at her, “I told you to stop seeing that boy.”

“I’ve never listened to you before, why would I now?” she bites out.

“I’ve seen where he sneaks out from to see you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” poison rises in her throat.

“He is on the wrong side.”

“I don’t care about war.”

“You will when you suffer the losses of it.”

Katara’s mouth pulls into a frown. She leaves anyway.

When he meets her past the edge of her town, far far away from his, she embraces him like it’ll be the last time. Because she knows in the back of her mind it will be, no matter how badly the depths of her soul want to deny it. They’re too young to run away, too poor to start over, too abused into submission to ask for a haven for them both.

But when he holds her like this, tight and secure, and presses his lips to her forehead, she forgets everything. And when they walk to the coastline, she is grateful that his warm hand distracts her from the decisions they are forced to make. 

Later, when the sun has set and they sit in the darkness, basking in the presence of one other, he speaks.

“Forgive me.”

Her eyebrows raise, “For what?

“I didn’t mean for this. For any of it,” his hands fist at his sides.

She shakes her head, “You don’t have to say anything. We don’t have the privilege of making our own life choices.”

She thinks of the woman at her doorstep, the feeling of her fist colliding onto her head, the sound of shouts that make her ears throb and the punishments that purple her skin and make her bleed.

“No,” He heaves a breath, “Please, just listen.”

He needs this.

“My father forced all of his sons to join Chin after he conquered our land. He’s weak, just a farmer with barely anything to give up,” he scoffs, “So he gave up his sons. You have to know, I wouldn’t do this. I don’t want to fight for him.”

Her eyes search his.

“I just had to make sure you knew. I don’t—” he pauses, “I don’t want you to have the wrong idea. If anything happens, if I can’t explain myself later.”

Her eyes widen and her hand tightens against his, “Nothing will happen.”

He shakes his head, “I’m a soldier. I don’t know if I’ll come back.”

Her heart drops.

“No. No you will come back to me,” her voice breaks as she speaks, “I can’t— I can’t lose you because of a stupid war you’re forced to fight for.”

He looks away.

“You can’t abandon me. Please, come back.”

“I can’t make you a promise I can’t keep.”

Her face screws up as she fights tears from falling.

She rests her head against his shoulder. She lies to herself, tells herself that he said he promised her, because it is so much easier. 

And when he walks her back to her town in the dead of night she kisses him with desperation that she hopes conveys exactly how much agony she feels. He tells her to be brave like she always has been and to be strong enough to move on. She gets mad and tells him there is no one else for her. He laughs and says he has always loved how stubborn she can be. She says she is serious and he tells her he knows. He apologizes again, and then he leaves.

On the walk to her home, she feels a month pass by her. The seasons blur together as the landscape outside of her home changes to growing leaves and flourishing crop. 

When everything stops, her body is jolted into action. Adrenaline bursts through her and she needs to go. She needs to see him. She turns away and runs, but she isn’t aimless. She takes the path opposite the forest, through the town, and by the sea. Her heart is hammering in her chest, not from the exercise, but from the fear. 

And then as she sits hidden behind foliage she sees, miles away surrounded in an open field with only the mountains and trees as spectators, a tall figure standing in the face of an army of a thousand men: Avatar Kyoshi.

Her eyes search the soldiers, she is looking for him.

But nothing can stop what comes next. 

The Avatar breaks apart the land with her sheer cosmic force. Earth splits open, sea barely floods the crack before she pulls lava from the centre of the planet. She pushes her arms forward and wind, with the strength of a thousand lionturtles, pushes away her home from the wrath of imperialism. 

The land — island— is free. 

She drops to her knees as her blue eyes meet his golden ones, on the front lines. 

When she reaches toward him, she is pulled away. The woman she’s come to hate shouts in her ear, promising pure torture for her disobedience.  

Katara wakes. An ache fills her body, like her soul was pried away from her whilst she slept.

She wants to be angry, she wasn’t able to control her subconscious. But the sadness stops her. She feels empty. And all she can do is sit up and stare blankly at her wall in the darkness that is not disturbed even by moonlight.

☼

After all that he has seen, Zuko understands. He sees these dreams for what they are: memories of the few lives of thousands that his soul has lived through. He remembers the stories his mother would tell him, the proverbs his uncle still repeats every time he visits his nephew’s dingy apartment. His soul is speaking to him, showing him all his lives. He doesn’t understand why.

He doesn’t know why all his dreams are focused on girls with perfect smiles and strong hearts. And all of them, despite the different faces, it’s all her. He knows it. One soul that he has kept falling for over and over again. It is her, who emanates a glow that calms him and watched him with blue eyes that guide him into a feeling of serenity he has never known before. It is her, that has pulled him into her arms and stolen away his whole being. It is her, who he keeps looking for and living for.

Tonight, he retires early. He wants to see her again. 

Everything about her brings him home. A home he hasn’t felt yet— at least in this life. 

When his eyes close, his soul rouses and pulls him all the way away from consciousness.

This time, his dream begins in action.

His feet follow a pattern his mind has memorized, and in the sweetest way possible each repeated step has conditioned his heart to jump that much more with the acknowledgement that he will soon see his summer love — No, his life’s love.

For once, in these confusing and shocking dreams, he recognizes his surroundings: the tall palm trees that bend and sway in the warm breeze, the coastline that greets the clearest ocean he has ever seen, and the luxurious housing dotting the land coming into his vision as he speeds down the path. Ember Island unfolds around him. 

He turns the corner and rounds the back of the market to the part of the coast that is always abandoned. The sand here is darker, rocks litter the beach and too much of an infestation of plant life. No one of the upperclass visits here, should they even know of its existence, and so it has become their hiding place. 

His eyes search the sandy scape before he spots her. He runs towards her, quick feet pushing sand into his toes despite his downtrodden leather sandals.

She turns to him and smiles, but it is weak.

He tells himself it is nothing, only because he misses home so much.

“Are we sparring today?” his grin is wide and earnest, eager to teach and shower her with all the knowledge that she desires.

After her family had moved to the island — nobles looking to expand their business to fishing ports — the girl had trailed the edges of the coast for many days before she stumbled upon his favourite part of the beach. He had found her here. And she saw in him, for the first time in her life when looking into someone’s eyes, no prejudice or arrogance. There, upon seaweed littered sand, their relationship had blossomed.

Slowly, he had begun to teach her all that she was deprived of given her high status as a lady: fighting, crafting, cooking. They had developed a routine, meeting here once a week for as long as she could till she thought the hours would run too long and someone would notice. And even in their stolen moments, too short to ever get in all the time he wanted with her, he was content. He was happy to have her, as much as she would give.

“Or we could go see the acting troupe rehearse— from afar of course, don’t worry, no one will see us. They’re telling Avatar Roku’s story, I think you’ll like it.”

She shakes her head slowly, the melancholy showing through easily.

“What’s wrong?” gone is the amusing tone, concerns wraps around his throat like a vice and his voice comes out strained.

“This has to end between us,” her hands clench at the fabric of her long silk dress.

And the dread in his stomach turns to acid. His heart sinks in his chest so fast that if he had half the ability to think coherently he would wonder how it became so heavy. His fingers twitch, and then they are pulled into fists. He isn’t angry at her, no, he could never be angry at her. He is angry with himself. Because only he could have ruined something so special. His fault. His mind races. Where did it all go wrong? Did he cling to her presence too often, like a parasitic creature thriving in a selfish existence? Did he press too hard in their chaste kisses, like the butting head of a bull? Did he hold her too tight, like the grip of a deadly snake? Was he so inconsiderate that he wasn’t human at all?

“Please. Don’t forget me. Don’t forget what we shared. Don’t forget that I loved you.”

Love?

His heart stops. And when it beats again it is racing.

“What do you mean? I don’t understand,” his voice is desperate, his soul is aching.

She shakes her head, biting her lip hard enough to break through flesh because she is so desperate to not break.

“Please,” he begs, “Please speak to me.”

She looks away, hands coming to her eyes to wipe her tears faster than they can fall, like they are acid that will burn her.

“Please...” his throat feels tighter than ever, “Why are you leaving me?”

“I don’t want to,” she manages to say between soft cries, hands still covering her face, “I don’t want to but I have to. I have to.”

His eyebrows crease together, “But why? Why?”

“My parents...”

“Did they see us?”

“No.”

“Did they notice you’re sneaking off all the time?”

“No.”

His expression darkens, “Did they hurt you?”

“No!” she exclaims, she swallows back the pain that is reaching up from her chest to claw at her throat, “No... They...”

He waits. 

“They’re marrying me off.”

His world breaks into a million pieces.

“For— For business. For their future. For my future.”

“No—”

“I can’t fight it.”

“But you will,” he pleads, “You’ll fight it. For us.”

When she doesn’t respond he presses on, “Won’t you?”

Her hands come to his and tighten, “How can I fight my fate?”

“You told me once your fate is with me.”

Her shoulders fall and she clenches her eyes shut, another pang of guilt hitting her heart. 

“We can leave. We can run away and we can build a new life and we can be happy.”

“I cant abandon them.”

“They’re selling you off like a prize!”

“I can’t leave.”

“Why?” his voice comes out like a shout.

She takes a sharp inhale. She rubs her thumbs over his knuckles to soothe him— like he is the at the brunt of the universe’s decisions.

“I owe them too much. I can’t betray them like that.”

“Owe? They’re your family! You don’t owe them anything.”

He won’t give up. She knows it. She clenches her eyes shut and sighs. She gives in to her last resort.

“I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

He steps back, his hands pull out of hers.

His eyes narrow, “Why wouldn’t I understand?”

She looks away. She can’t face him.

“It- It’s different for me. My world is different. It’s not easy, it’s not just,” she releases her breathe, “It’s not just fishing and farming and raising a family. My life isn’t that simple,” she seethes the last word out.

He frowns, hurt evident on his face, “You don’t mean that.”

She clenches her teeth.

“Of course I mean it. You didn’t think this could work between us did you?”

He shakes his head, he can’t recognize who she’s become.

“Grow up. Life isn’t a fairytale put on by the Ember Island Players.”

He turns and walks away.

And Zuko wants to scream, he wants to say not to leave. Despite everything she has said, Zuko knows she doesn’t mean it. He knows her words are meant to drive him away— to make a permanent parting easier. He wants to fight the fate her family has  forsaken her to. 

But he can’t command his body no matter how much he tries. 

The world dissolves as his heart stews in the poison of hurt.

Zuko wakes in his room, wondering how he let himself walk away from her— his home.

✾

The fifth night, despite all that Katara and Zuko have seen — separation and monsters and death — , is the very worst.

This time they are fire and water, sun and moon, yin and yang. 

They live through a war that kills their people, burns their skin, scars their souls and leaves them hopeless. They fight against each other and even in the dream they can feel the scorching of their restless souls as they do so. The betrayal hurts more than anything their dreams had shown before, because Zuko had tried but not hard enough and Katara had believed but with too much good faith. The trusting afterwards is harder than the fighting because she learned how to hate him. But he persists in his search for her friendship again, stubborn like he always has been. And it works, and soon he is let into her heart. He waits for her to find her way to him and only if she wants. He never tries for anything more because he never wants to push her — he never wants to ask for more than she will give. And she is pulled into him, closer and closer until the proximity is so little their souls light bonfires in their hearts in anticipation.

But they miss. And they move on. And away.

When he is wed, she can barely look at him. Before he speaks his traditional vows, words of dragons and eternal fires, he searches the crowd for her blue eyes. And when their gazes catch each other, she is speechless. Everything in her wants to protest, to tell him to stop himself from choosing a fate he will grow to detest. But she can’t move and she can barely breathe. And when he signs away his life, every bit of her being drains away. At the banquet that begins when the sun dips into the horizon, she can’t bear to be there any longer. She lies to the others, she says she is sick, she runs away and she hides herself in red silk sheets in a guest bedroom that she wants to drown in a tsunami. She pushes her face into the pillows to silence her cries.

At her wedding, he smiles with force. He sees his best friend promise his life to the girl that he let slip out of hands. He regrets coming, because he knows how it will hurt him to watch and how it will ruin her to see him there. But he had to, he had to come for everyone else. And when the feast is set and he catches her eye from the far side of the long table, he tries his best to look away. But he can’t. She is hypnotizing, even when her face pulls into a frown and her eyes water. He breaks away, to make it easy for the both of them. When he returns home, his training courtyard is ablaze with fires of anguish, from midnight to twilight.

They watch it all unfold.

She sees a life she has lied herself into being grateful for. 

He sees a life he has built for the sake of the world.

They listen to a hushed conversation exchanged at a balcony over a glistening turtleduck pond. They feel the suffering of years bear down on their young hearts. They hear the promise he makes.

When they wake, they are both crying.

✾

Today, she decided, nothing would deter her from seeing him. Even if she had to wait all night in the street. Even through the worst of the weather forecast. 

She can’t let him go.

Now she stands by the convenience store, rain beginning to pick up speed as she eyes up and down the street before peering into the window. 

There. If the clothing is right, it’s him. He stands by the counter awkwardly, eyes flitting from one corner of the store to the door and back. He is waiting too. 

When their eyes meet, Zuko stops his fidgeting. He walks out finally, Zhao grumbles something to his back that Katara can’t make out. He pushes the door open and joins her under the little roof by the store door.

His brows are raised and his mouth almost pulls into a pout, like he is begging her to stay, to never leave ever again.

She has to squeeze the fabric of her dress into her hand to stop herself from reaching out to him again. 

“Zuko,” Her voice is hesitant, like she has never said it right before and this time she must.

“Katara,” He breathes out, like he’s been waiting to call for her for all this time.

They stand, in the shelter of the building as the neon signs burns into the sides of their eyes. But their pupils are blown wide despite the unrelenting light, they’re watching each other like they can’t risk looking away.

Loud smacking at the window pulls their gazes away. They look to the old man in the shop.

“Go home! It’s a thunderstorm!” comes his muffled voice

They look to each other. They cannot walk away.

Zuko gestures. He walks. And she follows.

The water hits their heads and wets them down to their bone. The droplets are sharp and fat, they smack against their skin in anger like the world is upset it took them so long to find each other. But they never falter, they walk in silence in the rain as their souls burn alive.

Finally they stop at a park that looks like it should be more alive but carries only the feeling of dreary days past. The awful weather has chased everyone away, but here stand Katara and Zuko side by side but not looking into each other’s eyes. They are drowning in the downpour and it feels like their hearts are holding onto the last bits of air left between them.

“You saw the dreams,” her voice drifts to him.

“Yes,” he swallows.

“Our souls found each other. Everytime.”

Zuko’s eyes are pinned to the lake in front of them. He can’t speak, his throat is clogged and if he tries to clear it he thinks he’ll break completely.

“Why— Why is it so… easy this time” Katara breathes out, like the question has been clawing its way out of her mouth for so long.

Zuko eyebrows furrow, looking down at the ground between them.

“In the dreams we saw. Every other time. Every other life. We were pulled apart or killed. Why is it so easy now? Why do we get to be neighbours in the same city with no war or feuds or distance? Why do we remember what we had? Who we were? Why this life? What made this life so different?”

“Fear,” Zuko speaks for the first time in so long.

“What?”

“Fear is what made it different,” Zuko lifts his head, staring her down directly and the pain in his eyes hurts Katara more than the dreams had.

He continues. 

 “Every other life, we still found each other. We became friends, and learned and grew and relied on each other and… hugged and kissed and loved. We loved each other. Even in the face of being pulled apart by obstacles too strong for us to surmount. At the end of our lives, we died in love with each other, knowing what it felt to have each other. But the last time…”

Katara knows what he’ll say, she had come to the same realization almost right after waking up. Admitting it made her chest ache. She wanted so badly for there to be an easier truth. A lie she could tell. Just like she did for years in her last life. Just like he did.

But Zuko doesn’t run from the truth anymore.

“The last time… We were separated by choice…” Zuko takes a deep breath and turns to Katara, “We fell in love, but we never had each other. And we were too scared to break that fragile friendship we struggled to forge. So we put on brave faces and said our good bye’s. We convinced ourselves we could live out the rest of our lives under masks of happiness— That if we tried hard enough, the masks would seep deep enough into our skin and help us accept our lives apart. We thought we could laugh with others and not think of the smiles we shared. We thought we could cry to others and not think of how we would console each other. We thought we could start families and not think of what our family would look like.”

Katara breaks. Hot tears scorch her skin as they trail down her cheeks. She feels like she is burning up in the midst of this cold storm. And she shakes her head, as if denying their mistakes would erase them. 

Their last life was filled with so many wrong choices the universe has gifted them finally with a much easier opportunity to seize.

He swallows, “Katara, I— I’m sorry, if I had just—”

“No,” she says quickly, “No. I don’t want to hear it. I won't let us condemn ourselves.”

“You don’t blame me?”

Her head shakes slowly, brows furrowing together, “Never.”

“You don’t care that I walked away? That I didn’t try harder? That I lied to keep everyone happy?”

“I don’t care.”

“How?” he asks, and his voice barely makes it out, "How can you be so forgiving? Even now. After all that."

“All I care about is that you kept your promise,” Katara smiles weakly with all of the little energy left in her.

Zuko hesitantly places his hands on her arms while his thumbs rub comforting circles. She shifts towards him, hands coming to fist his sweater.

“I didn’t know if I could,” his voice is unsteady when he speaks next, like his throat is tight with the need to cry, but he wants to be strong for her. 

“But you did. You kept your promise. For me.”

He nods, water blurring his vision which he hopes is rain but knows is tears.

“Then promise me again.”

He tilts his head in question.

“No matter what happens this time. No matter everything the world throws at us.” Her voice comes out cracked, “We won’t run away. It’ll be perfect this time. Promise me.”

He pulls her into his embrace, resting his head by hers.

Katara clutches at his chest, part of his sweater crumples under her fingers and the skin at his neck is doused in her tears, mixing with rainwater. His arms are wrapped around her and his hands hold onto her tight and secure like he’d fight the entire universe before he’d let her go again.

“I promise."