Chapter Text
Cover art by Ysa AKA @avenuecab ( Twitter / Tumblr )
(You can reblog/retweet this art on Tumblr / Twitter. Please do not repost.)
“Part of me was like, ‘whatever’. You know?
You know those days when you’re like ‘this might as well happen’?
Adult life is already so goddamn weird.”
- John Mulaney, “New in Town”
Something in him wanted to laugh.
And underneath his uncomfortably thick N95 mask, he was. The material was too hard as it pressed against the bridge of his nose. Last night, he was mentally preparing to wear it for 28 hours straight. A lot can change between yesterday and the time you were trying to check-in your bags at airport security during a pandemic, though.
Zuko sat just by the other check-in counter where there was an older man who was helping passengers check in their irregularly shaped bags. Heathrow Airport had never quite looked like this before. He saw plenty of people with their own suitcases and neck pillows. He saw white people incorrectly wearing their masks just below their nose. There were sanitation stations just about every four feet. There was a Caffè Nero, closed of course, on the other side of the check-in area.
Next to him was his trolley with his four large suitcases, a backpack, and a laptop bag. The seat to the other side of him was blocked off with a sign that no one was to sit there for the sake of social distancing; all of the seats in Heathrow Airport were covered in the same. Not too far from him was the long queue of other passengers who were also trying to check in with Ba Sing Se Airways. From where he was sitting, he could just about hear the same speech that was said to him not more than ten minutes ago.
He stared at the floor. He smirked at nothing, though no one could see it, and he chuckled.
“Fuck sake,” he whispered finally. “Of course this would happen. Fucking sh—this might as well happen.”
Zuko sighed and pulled out his phone from his back pocket. She shouldn’t have gotten far. It was only about half an hour since he got out of her car in the first place. But then again, he knew how June liked to drive. He found her phone number and dialled. She didn’t pick up. Zuko tried again. She picked up after the third ring with a grunt. He knew he would be on speaker, her phone connected to her car’s sound system.
“What now, Pouty?” said June.
“Yeah,” he said. “Listen, I’m—I’m going to need you to come back and pick me up again.”
Zuko heard the car’s horn. It was loud through his phone’s speaker and he had to hold his phone away a little. He cringed. He heard the screech of rubber against asphalt and he assumed it was June stalling to the side of the road.
“You what?” she said after a long pause.
“The airline fucked up. They told me so at the desk,” he said. “I’m stuck again.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said.
“That’s exactly what I said.”
“Why can’t you call a cab company? I’m already on the fucking highway.”
“Because I don’t fucking want to—!” he nearly yelled, though muffled by the mask. He stopped and sighed, forcing himself to calm down. His shoulders dropped. “Could-could you please just not make this more difficult than it is?”
June paused. Though he could not see her, he knew she was rolling her eyes. Zuko’s leg shook.
“Ugh, fine. But I’m charging you extra,” she said, exasperated through the phone. He could hear the car start up again on her end. “Listen, I’m already at the highway, next U-turn’s not for a while, have to stop for gas and shit, and traffic’s already picking up. I’ll be an hour and I’ll meet you at the same parking spot. Don’t make me wait.”
“Okay,” he said.
“And you’re buying our groceries for a month.”
Zuko rolled his eyes. “Whatever you want, June,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she said. “Don’t make this a habit.”
She hung up and that was that.
Katara could not quite place the feeling at the pit of her stomach.
Was it an impending sense of dread? Was it the sweet, heat of stomach acid bubbling up her throat? Her legs felt weak. Her knees would not stop shaking. The air tasted heavy, like rust—and somehow that made sense. She swallowed, and rolled her trolley to the desk as the socially distant man in front of her waved for her as she was next in the queue.
A dark skinned woman greeted her, half of her face covered with a thin blue mask and her locs neatly arranged to a bun atop her head with a small, neat green hat pinned to it, as all the other ground crew were wearing. From her eyes, Katara knew she was smiling. She hoped that the smile she gave behind her mask let the woman know she was doing the same.
“Passport, please,” said the woman. Katara presented her passport and her printed ticket, hoping to get her boarding pass. She drummed her hands atop the desk in a nondescript beat. Her toes curled inside her boots.
“Just you?” the woman asked.
“Just me,” she replied.
“Where are you headed off to today?”
“Oh, uh—Singapore,” she answered.
A pause. The woman raised a neatly done brow at her and blinked. Katara swallowed and grit her teeth.
“Just a moment.”
The woman picked up her telephone and dialled a number.
“Sure,” said Katara, taking in a deep, sharp breath. The woman was practically whispering to the phone and Katara could not hear from the other side of the plastic shield that was between them. The woman hung up the phone.
“It-it’s just a layover,” she tried to explain, gesturing with shaking hands. “Connecting flight’s with Jetstar to Manila, and—”
“Yes, I see…” said the woman, looking over Katara’s shoulder. The woman gestured for someone behind her. Katara turned her head to see that a tall, older white man, also wearing a thin blue mask, had materialised next to her. He was not wearing his mask correctly as the mask sat just beneath his nose. She took a step back.
“Madam, could you come with me, please?” he asked.
“I’m sorry?” was her reply. She stepped back and put a hand against her heart. Her head swiftly looked back and forth between Check-In Woman and Sudden Helper Man.
“Is… is there something wrong?” she asked the woman.
“Well, you see, madam—we’re very sorry to say this but it’s just that Singapore’s current travel restrictions state that only citizens and permanent residents are allowed into the country.”
Her jaw felt as if it had detached from her head and fell to the floor. Katara could only stare at the woman with big, blue, disbelieving eyes.
“But-but,” she started. It almost sounded as if she were about to laugh. Out of breath. “I-I’m not actually coming into the country, I’m just connecting—I mean, I-I’m not going into Singapore, I’m just passing through—”
“We understand but those are the rules, madam, I’m so sorry.”
“But it was your customer support that booked this flight!” she said, her voice steadily rising. Her throat felt tight. “I mean, h-h-how could they not have known—y-you people were the ones who gave me this flight!”
“Madam—”
“No! No, no, no! And you people have cancelled on me four different times in just as many months! You… y-you can’t just—” she said. The man tried to reach for her but she quickly put her hands up and stepped back in defence. Her eyes stung with hot tears and she hated how swiftly they appeared and ran down her cheek. Her chest rose and fell with her heavy breaths. She tasted acid at the back of her throat.
“Are you kidding me right now? Are you fucking kidding me?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“Madam, I am so very sorry to say this. It has been a common complaint throughout the day and we’re working hard to sort things out for you. If you just move aside and let us see what we can do to rebook—”
“Rebook? Are you joking?” Katara asked, cutting her off. “I don’t have anywhere else to go! I’ve been stuck here for four fucking months, I’m only here on a tourist visa—“
“Ba Sing Se Airways will, of course, cover your accommodation until such time that—”
“So I can be locked in a room on my own for weeks when I’ve already been doing that for the last four months?” she asked. She knew how loud she was being. She could feel the stares of the people still in the queue and knew that they were hoping against hope that this wasn’t the same case for them. But it was. And it would be.
Katara sniffled and stood in front of the check-in counter and leaned toward the plastic shield. She pleaded, “Please, I’m so, so sorry, I don’t mean to be difficult but I… I just want to go home.”
Check-In Woman pushed her glasses up her nose and looked to Katara with sympathy. Hers were kind but tired eyes. She has been on shift, having had to deliver the same news over and over again, to correct a mistake she did not make. Katara watched her shoulders sag ever so slightly as she maintained her professional equanimity.
Katara knew then that there was nothing left to do. The moment that the woman began to speak again, she closed her eyes and began to cry in earnest.
“Madam, I am very, very sorry but there is nothing that we can do. There are no direct flights with this airline going from London to Manila, and both Singapore and Manila airports are restricting flights from the UK. In Singapore, only citizens and permanent residents are allowed into the country,” she said. “Please collect your check-in baggage and a Ba Sing Se Airways representative will be in touch with you shortly about your accommodations.”
“But—” she tried once more but found no other words would come to mind and she could not find her voice. She sniffled again and shook her head. “Fine. Thank you for your help—and I’m sorry for raising my voice, I—”
“It’s alright, ma’am. I understand,” said the woman. “Please take care and keep safe.”
“So there’s nothing you can do?” Suki asked, with Sokka right beside her. Katara nodded at her phone screen.
“Nothing,” she said. “Not a damn thing.” She sniffled, her voice breaking. “Sokka, I’m out of money. And I can’t ask you and Suki for more—”
“Hey, hey—” her brother interrupted. “Don’t even worry about it. We’ve got you.”
“But Sokka—”
“Don’t but Sokka me,” he said. “Shut it. We’re taking care of you and you don’t get a choice about i—ah, fuck.” She could hear the distant wail of a baby in the background. “That’s Senna, hang on.”
Sokka pulled his earphone from his ear and leapt up and away from the screen.
“No, it’s okay,” said Katara. “I’ll let you guys sleep.”
“We don’t get much of that right now anyway,” Suki replied with a little, tired smile on her face.
“How are you feeling?”
“Very pregnant, very swollen,” her sister-in-law replied. “Very tired of making sushi bake platters. But it’s been a hit, financially, so we can’t really complain, you know? So you don’t have to worry about us, I promise. Let us worry about you.”
“Thanks, Suki,” she said. “I just can’t believe this is happening.”
“It’s frustrating, I get it,” she agreed. “The airline said they’ll take care of accommodations, right?”
“They said so but I don’t know. Might be a long wait. It looks like there’s a lot of people this is happening to. My flight was supposed to leave in an hour.”
“I’m so sorry, Katara,” she said. “We’ll make this work, okay?” In the background, Katara could hear the distant wail of a child still crying, despite her father’s best efforts. Suki returned her gaze to the phone and said, “I’m sorry, I think have to go.”
“Yeah, of course,” she said. “I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow.”
“Be safe out there, alright?” said Suki. “Take care.”
“Bye, Suki.”
“Bye!”
Katara ended the call and pocketed her phone. She then reached for her hand sanitiser in her bag and applied a generous amount of the gel on her hands. She slumped down the cool, grey, metal seat and resigned herself to wait miserably in this airport for the next few hours, feeling more and more like Tom Hanks in “The Terminal”. In the worst parts of her imagination, she thought that that might be the situation she found herself in then—stranded in a foreign airport for months. And she didn’t even know how to do construction work.
Just then, as she mused silently while staring at nothing in particular, she noticed a presence approach her from the side.
“Excuse me,” said the stranger. “Hello.”
“Hi,” she said, inching away instinctively. The young man was wearing a thin mask and a face shield as well though. The distinct, large burn mark on his face made her think that he looked a little familiar. Like a distant story she could only just about remember. She raised a brow and crossed her arms against her chest. “You’re standing a little close, could you please not?”
“Sorry—sorry, I mean, I tested negative just yesterday. I can prove it, I just—” he said, stepping back and mimicking her posture with his arms across his chest, though it more looked like he was holding himself. She saw his thumb brush against his arm in a self-soothing motion. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with the ground crew. And just now.”
“You were eavesdropping on me?”
“A little bit,” he admitted. That made her quirk her head.
“Rude,” she said. “But why admit it?”
“I… well, I’m kind of in the same situation,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.
“You were going to Manila too?”
“Yep,” he said. “Been here for six months.”
“Alone?”
“Yep.”
“Damn, and I thought I had it bad—”
“It wasn’t that bad, actually,” he said. “My mom owns a house here, just three hours outside of London. I was there on my own for most of the whole thing.”
“Oh,” Katara considered. She looked away from him to the side and to the other, unsure of what to say next. “Well… okay?”
“This is… well, t-t-this is going to sound kind of really crazy,” he said. He was rocking back and forth, switching the shift of his weight between his one foot forward and the other. He could not look her in the eye. “But do you… maybe, just, I don’t know, want to, uh—how do I say this without sounding like a total creep, uh—” It was at that that Katara moved her head back and blinked rapidly at him. “Do want to stay in my house with me?”
“No,” she replied immediately. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What? Are you insane?”
“I know what it sounds like, just-just hear me out—” he tried, gesturing defensively with his hands. “But, man, if I have to spend one more month, one week, one day alone without there being anyone else there in the house to fucking talk to, I think I might actually lose my mind.”
Though he could not see it behind her masked façade, her mouth was wide open. Her jaw was practically on the floor. Big, blue eyes stared at him. She could feel herself shaking her head. “Tui and La, you’re actually serious.”
“Coronavirus, am I right?” he tried to joke, shrugging his shoulders.
“You don’t know if I’m positive.”
“You’re here in practically full PPE. I’ve seen you sanitise your hands twice in ten minutes just because you held your own stuff,” he explained. “I think I can take my chances with you. But I’d pay for a swab test for you, if you want.” A pause. “I’m… I’m kind of rich. Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“I…” he started. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t even know my name,” she said.
“Katara,” he said. “I heard the ground crew lady say it and the woman on the phone just now, I’m not like a stalker or anything.”
“You know that’s exactly what a stalker would say,” she pointed out.
“You can look me up if that helps,” he said. “My name is Zuko Ignacio.” He pointed to his face. “The scar’s pretty hard to fake.”
“Ignacio, I… I know that name,” she said. “Your sister is Azula Ignacio.”
“Yep,” he replied curtly.
“Your dad—”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I know who my dad is.”
“Are you serious?”
“About… about my dad being—?” he said, his brows furrowed, perplexed. She cut him off.
“No, about the house.”
“Oh,” he said, his posture relaxing. “Yes. Yeah, actually. I am.”
“I… I’m going to be honest,” she said. “Your plan is… insane—but, man, I have to say I’m kind of tempted. I don’t know if I can last a few more weeks alone either.” A pause. Katara bit her lip. She turned away from him and spoke to herself aloud, saying, “What am I doing? Why am I considering this?”
“I can pay for everything, money’s not an issue—”
“Must be nice,” she commented.
“What I’m trying to say is… it—it would be nice to just have someone else around. Literally just about anyone else.”
“Then why me?” she asked. “Why not ask someone else?”
“You’re the only other person in here who’s alone and my age, I think, so maybe it’ll work? And we’re trying to get back to same country so, you know. We might understand each other a bit better. And it’s not a big house or anything but too big for one person,” he explained.
“How do you know how old I am?”
“I guessed,” he said. “20s, right?”
“I’m 26,” she answered.
“And I’m 28,” he said. “And we’re kind of—uh, literally in the same boat. Same flight and everything. 11:40 to Singapore connecting to Manila, right?”
“You’re… this is crazy, no offence,” she said. “But holy shit, I’m probably also losing my mind for even considering this.”
“I’ve been here on my own for longer,” he explained. “More brain damage that way.” Katara almost smiled. Zuko continued, “I mean, you can always change your mind and go to the accommodation they’re promising you. Any time you want. I… I’m not trying to kidnap you or anything.”
“Are you this lonely?” she asked.
“Aren’t you?” he asked. Katara could not think of anything else to say then.
Zuko then bowed his head and held himself tighter. She could tell by the way his knuckles tightened around his arms.
“You know what, forget it,” he said, stammering quickly. “I-y-you don’t have to do this. I-I-I can just go—I just… It was just an idea, it was a stupid idea, I-I thought I might ask, that’s all. I-I’m sorry for bothering you. Sorry. Sorry.”
Before she could say anything else, Zuko ducked his head and was wheeling his own trolley away. He did not look back at her once. She watched him walk toward the other end of Heathrow Airport, far away from her. Katara stared, mouth agape behind her mask.
After a few more moments of stunned silence, she took her phone from her pocket. She dialled Suki’s FaceTime number and her sister-in-law picked up after two rings.
“Katara?” Suki asked, her voice almost whispering. It was 4AM in the Philippines and she could barely see anything but the outline of Suki holding the phone up while Sokka was rocking a now sleeping Senna in his arms. “Is something wrong? Are you okay?”
She looked back to the young man at the other end of the airport. From this distance, she could see he was looking at his phone. Her heart was racing in her chest.
‘What am I doing? Why am I doing this?’
“Katara?” Suki asked again. Katara took a deep breath and exhaled.
“So, this is going to sound insane…”
Zuko wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
He replayed the conversation in his head over and over again like he was putting himself through his own personal hell loop. His toes curled inside his boots and his leg shook uncontrollably. June had not replied to his texts. Part of him wondered if he should just wait by the parking spot, out there in the cold, so he could at least suffer without having her bear witness.
“Fuck, what was I thinking?” he muttered to himself. “Stupid, stupid, stupid—”
But he stopped when he watched that same young woman wheel her trolley. Was she walking towards him? He could only stare, unblinking. Maybe she wasn’t walking towards him. Maybe she was just going to Caffè Nero—yes, it was closed, but he had no business judging her actions. She could do whatever the hell she wanted, right? But the more she walked, the more it looked like she was headed straight to him.
Zuko swallowed.
“Hey,” she greeted.
“Hey,” he said, looking up at her, not knowing if he should stand. He could feel that his hand was shaking.
“This isn’t some kind of… weird… convoluted… pick up social experiment, is it?” Katara asked. “Like, you’re not trying to hit on me, right?”
“N-no, I—?” he answered. He stared at her, brows furrowed. The look in her eyes was deadly serious. “What?”
That answer seemed to satisfy her for some reason.
“Okay…” she said. “I talked to my brother and sister… and yes, it’s ridiculous and crazy… but—”
“You’ll… you’ll do it?” he said, voice rising.
“I assume you have your own washer and dryer?”
“Of course,” he replied without hesitation.
“Then I’m in.”