Work Text:
Katara had always been fascinated with fire. When she was a kid, she would sit in front of the flames for hours, staring into them, watching the way they danced, the way they dispersed up, glittering embers into the night sky. She would spend all night staring until the fire sizzled into a glow, and even then. Sokka used to tease her about it.
“You’re adopted, you know,” Sokka would say. Katara would always protest. “No, it’s true. Why do you think you’re so obsessed with fire? You’re from the Fire Nation.”
“Am not!” Katara would flick water at him with her bending, which was still emotionally-charged and far from refined. Sokka would laugh.
But that was before. Back when the war was an abstract concept to the siblings. Back when the war hadn’t touched them. When the Fire Nation hadn’t raided their village and killed their mother. Before Aang had uprooted their lives. Before they became instrumental in ending the war.
Sokka would make no such jokes now, even if Katara still spent most nights zoning out, entranced by the fire. Even if the crown prince of the Fire Nation has quickly gone from an enemy to an ally. To a friend.
“Katara?” Zuko’s soft voice called to her from her side. She hadn’t even heard him sit down. “What are you thinking about?”
“Everything is going to change tomorrow,” Katara replied.
“I know,” Zuko said, picking at the grass below their feet and tossing some into the fire. The fire hissed and popped, sending embers and billowing smoke upward. “Are you scared?”
Katara considered lying. He’d see through that, and what was the point? They were all terrified. “Yes, but I know we can win this. Aang can beat your father. We can beat Azula.”
“Are you sure you want to come?”
“Of course, Zuko,” Katara said with a comforting smile towards the boy who always found ways to surprise her. “I’m honored that you want me by your side.”
“There’s no one else I’d rather fight with.”
Katara smiled. Tentatively, Katara rested her head on his shoulder, not taking her eyes off the fire. He sighed contently and a little shakily. No other words were said; no other words had to be said. They were both grateful for the presence of the other at the moment, and whatever would happen tomorrow would happen.
Katara had always been fascinated by lightning. She loved the way it illuminated the stormy sky and left a faint glow that burned for a few seconds. She liked the way, if it was close enough, you could hear it crack the clouds open as it struck. She didn’t see nearly enough of it in the south pole. On the occasions they did see lightning, it was almost always masked by low hanging, blackened clouds, and ferocious rain. It was hard to see the beauty of the white-hot electricity burrowed in your home, hoping the winter storm didn’t freeze you inside. Sometimes, though, if a lightning storm hit in the afternoon, she’d sit outside until her mother physically forced her inside, just to watch the way the entire sky would flash.
Katara fell in love with lightning in the earth kingdom. She’d never experienced a temperate summer storm before. She was pretty sure hot air and curious rain that would start light, as if testing the ground, before kissing it, was her new favorite combination.
“We should probably land for the afternoon,” Toph mentioned on Appa’s saddle. “There’s going to be a storm.”
“It’s just a little rain, Toph. Nothing Appa can’t handle, right buddy?” Aang chirped, petting the sky bison’s wet, musty fur.
“There’s going to be lightning.”
“How do you know?” Katara asked, feeling her fingers tingle with excitement of seeing the phenomenon.
“I can smell it.”
“Smell it? How?” Sokka asked.
“I don’t know, I just know that whenever this smell accompanies rain, lightning follows.”
“Are you sure you’re not just smelling Appa?” Sokka offered. The bison grunted.
Aang weighed the options of Toph’s warning. “Better safe than sorry,” Aang decided, bringing the bison down to the earth.
Toph was right. The lightning first struck nearly 10 minutes after they’d set up camp. Katata’s let out a happy gasp and stared upward at the whimsical bolts shooting outward. Aang couldn’t help but notice the way the lightning reflected in Katara’s eyes, making them even more stormy than usual.
Katara wasn’t noticing Aang, though. She was noticing the way two strikes met in the middle of the early evening sky. They looked like the outlines of lovers greeting each other the way only lovers do. Katara sighed dreamily, thinking of a time without war where she could have that. A little electricity would be nice.
Katara had always been fascinated by lightning. But now, standing in the courtyard of the Fire Palace, as a forceful blue current barreled towards her, Katara wasn’t fascinated. She was terrified. Paralyzed by fear and shock, Katara thought back to that afternoon in the earth kingdom when she wished for something electric. This wasn’t what she had in mind. Katara's throat closed up when she saw Zuko jump in front of the bolt, catching it in his chest. She screamed as he fell, and then, out of his arm which had not made harsh contact with the cobblestone, a dazzling blitz shot into the blood-red sky.
Katara was unsure what happened, or if Zuko was alright, and with Azula hysterically advancing, she didn’t have much time to think. Still, she thought, the force was hauntingly beautiful.
Katara had always been fascinated by the flames which came from candles. She liked the was the smallest flame could light up a room. She appreciated the way the tiny flare was always underestimated. These flames danced more dimly than those that roared from campfires or the ones that blazed from buildings. These flames didn’t boast, and yet they could burn you just as easy. Katara saw herself in these flames.
Katara was running on fumes. Her fingers ghosted across the tip of the flame and watched as it scurried away from her. It wasn’t a super dangerous activity if you knew what you were doing, and she did. Her father had scolded her for doing so as a kid, and Sokka would smirk, mouthing “firebender” and her until she got embarrassed and stopped. He made her feel like being a firebender was a bad thing. Sokka wasn’t in the room to tease her now, and even if he was, nothing could convince her that being a firebender was a bad thing anymore. Not when a firebender,
the
firebender, her fire bender, was resting in the ginormous bed behind the desk she sat at.
Zuko was sleeping. Katara was able to heal him well enough, to close the wound and control the electricity which coursed through his veins. She still had a lot to heal before he was back to normal, though. No matter how gifted her healing abilities were, time and repeated sessions would be needed.
She’d stopped working water through his chest a few hours ago. The palace medic offered to help, but Katara wouldn’t let him. Palace officials and servants suggested they watch over him for a bit, saying they prepared her a room, but Katara refused. She didn’t trust any of them. Zuko had offered her the bed, saying he’d be happy to take the large couch if it made her more comfortable, but Katara told him he needed to rest, and eventually, he drifted off to sleep.
She needed to rest, too, but she was wired. Her mind was on Aang and Ozai. He’d won. They received word just before Zuko fell asleep. Her mind was with Sokka, Toph, and Suki, who were okay, but bruised and broken. Her mind was with her father, her grandmother, and people all over the world who’d been affected by the war. More than anywhere, though, her mind was with Zuko, who breathed raggedly behind her.
Why did he do that? She wasn't nearly as important as he was. She would’ve been angry if she died. La knows she’d take advantage of being a spirit if not to enact revenge on Azula, then to at least haunt her brother for fun. An entire nation wouldn’t have fallen apart if she died. Zuko was valuable. As a Crown Prince, as a bender, to her.
Katara’s fingers twiddled over the flame more aggressively the more she thought about what she would’ve done if she hadn’t been able to heal Zuko. How, in the span of a few weeks, had he built a home within her heart, and inhabited every nook and cranny in her life that she never realized was empty?
Katara’s mind wandered off of the flame she had been entranced by, and her strong-willed desire to never listen to what her father told her not to do, came back to bit her. Her fingers dipped too low and too slow, and the flame viscously attacked her. Katara yelped, pulling her fingers away, shaking them furiously. The skin blistered almost immediately and molted at the edges. Dammit.
The covers rustled behind her, and a soft moan from the firebender's lips stirred something within her she’d only ever read about.
“Katara? What are you doing?”
“Nothing!” Katara said too quickly, shutting her fingers into her palm. She drew in a quick breath as the pain seared through her, but she didn’t think Zuko noticed. “Up for another session?”
“Did you sleep at all?” Zuko asked, slightly disoriented. His voice was raspier than usual, and Katara wanted to think about how cute he was, but all she could think about was how thankful he was that he was alive. He was going to live.
“I’m fine. I needed to stay awake in case…something happened.” Whether that "something" would be an attack or an injury complication, Katara wasn’t sure, but she wanted to be prepared either way.
“No, you need to rest," Katara ignored Zuko, bringing a watery glove to his chest. “No, Katara,” Zuko said, grabbing her wrist. Water nearly spilled, but Katara bent it back into the pail. “Rest.”
Katara looked at him uncomfortably. Even if she wanted to rest, was she supposed to sleep on the couch? It was big, too ornate, and not nearly enough softened by years of people sitting on it for her to get a good nap in anyway. She’d rather be awake.
“Zuko, you need to let me keep working on this.”
“I think you might die from exhaustion if I do, and then what was this all for?” Katara winced. “Rest, please. Just… get in,” Zuko motioned to the other side of the bed.
Katara thought about denying him again or placing herself on that ugly gold couch, but when he pulled back the red blanket to reveal soft satin sheets, Katara almost drooled at how comfy it looked. She padded her way around the bed that really was ginormous, and crawled in tentatively.
Zuko was closer to the center of the bed than he was when she left his side, wasn’t he? Katara was too tired to read too much into it. All she knew was that this bed was big enough for at least four full-grown Water Tribe men, and somehow she and Zuko ended up in the middle. Not quite cuddling, but too close for it to be accidental.
Katara wanted to be near him, to reach out and touch him, to remind herself he was still alive. All the trauma the war had inflicted on them hung in the air with a thick stench that rotted katara’s nose. So much was still uncertain, but they’d won. She should be relieved. She was relieved, but she couldn’t help the tears the spilled. Katara did her best to remind silent.
Then what was all of this for? Zuko's words rang in Katara's ears. It was as if him referencing the event made it all the more real. He knew what he was doing when he stepped in front of the lightning. He knew he could've died, yet he still took the risk to save her. A broken sob choked out of Katara's mouth. She shook front the cries that ripped through her.
Zuko pulled her into his arms without talking or asking. He didn’t need to ask, though, not when it came to Katara. Not only because she trusted him wholeheartedly now, but because somehow they were always on the same page. If he moved for a glass, Katara was already holding it out for him. If she slipped off Appa’s saddle, Zuko had already grabbed her hand. She pulled herself deeper into his arms, not wanting the feeling to leave, as embarrassing as that was.
“Why?” Katara cried.
“Why what?”
“Why’d you do it? Why’d you jump in front of that lightning?” Her breath hadn’t slowed or calmed. Her face was still wet.
“You could’ve died,” Zuko replied as if she hadn’t needed more of an explanation.
“You…I…So could you! Zuko if you died, the fire nation would be in shambles.”
“There's still time for that,” Zuko said with a humorless chuckle.
“No, you could’ve died, and all just to save me. I'm just a peasant from the Southern Water Tribe. I'm dispensable, but you...you—”
“You’re not dispensable. Not to me," Zuko cut her off quickly. "Or Aang, or Sokka, or Toph, or Suki. I— we— need you.” Zuko grabbed Katara’s hand roughly, giving it a squeeze, which should’ve been reassuring, but she cried out as the new tender skin rubbed against his hand. He brought her palm to his face to examine the rigged skin of her fingers. “What happened?”
“I played with fire,” Katara said, unsure how to explain her obsession with an element that wasn’t her own. Katara tried wiggled her fingers away from Zuko, but he held them tightly. “Zuko, stop looking at them like that, it’s fine. I can heal them.”
Zuko, softly, and more apprehensively than Katara had ever seen, brought the pads of her fingers to his lips to press a kiss to the jagged tender tips. Katara wanted to yelp again, but not from the pain this time. Her heart jumped so high she thought it was going to come out of her throat. Katara wanted to ask a million questions. She wanted the moment to continue, but Zuko flipped his hand, and the candles in the room went out. They were only illuminated by the pale pink light that radiated from the moon and the still-red sky from outside.
“Rest,” Zuko said again. He didn’t let Katara out of his grip like she thought he might. Instead, he snuggled her closer. Katara never thought (and much to her dismay she had thought about it) that he’d be a cuddler. She could get used to being proved wrong. “Thank you, Katara.”
Katara squeezed his hand, which still held hers, knowing that anything she said would give her away completely, and ruin the most perfect moment she’d had in months.
Katara had never understood her fascination with fire. It made her feel like an unagi out of the water, but here, in the future fire lords arms, she started to realize why she loved the element so.