Chapter Text
Spring, Upper Ring, Ba Sing Se, Earth Kingdom
Katara Amaguk had a plan for her life. Each day planned to perfection, a series of lists from which she worked and lived, high standards for herself and all others in her life to meet. By the time she was thirty, she had established herself as the most requested doctor at the highest paying dental practice in the city, purchased her own place in one of the glimmering high rises in Ba Sing Se’s exclusive Upper Ring, and acquired quite the wardrobe of the most fashionable clothes. Hard work, determination, and the motto Don’t be nosy, focus on yourself had earned her all of this. Continuing down this path, she knew, would earn her her own practice by the time she was thirty-five and a comfortable future surrounded by only the most high quality friends and acquaintances.
She loved Ba Sing Se; it suited her. In the mornings, she would go for a run through the city, lush green parks whizzing past, glassy skyscrapers glittering in the sunlight. Like clockwork, this run ended at precisely seven-thirty every day, allowing her an hour to shower and change for work, and thirty minutes to jostle her way down the crowded sidewalks in order to nab a coffee from the most prominent cafe in the Upper Ring before work.
It was on one such morning, one like any other, that Katara’s routine was thrown off kilter.
Hurrying through the sun-drenched lobby of her building, she slipped through the gilded doors of the elevator and plucked her headphones from her ears just in time to hear a voice call out, “Hold the door, please!”
A press of her finger to the proper button, and the doors slid open once more, allowing a small, squat woman into the elevator. Dressed in simple clothing, the elbows of her shirt worn and looking in need of a patch, the woman, perhaps nearing her mid sixties, was entirely out of place. There was something in the way that she carried herself and smiled so broadly that sent a pang of loneliness through Katara’s heart.
“Thank you,” the woman said, aiming her grin at Katara.
Nodding in return, Katara sent a hint of a smile back. Not having had her morning coffee yet, socializing was an onerous task. She almost dreaded the forty-four floor ride up to her apartment with this out-of-place woman and her affability.
“I see you’re heading to the forty-fourth floor,” the woman continued, oblivious. “I’m staying there with my daughter for a few days. You look to be around her age. Are you married?”
Katara’s barely-surviving smile faltered. “No,” she said, affixing the tilt of her mouth once more and willing the elevator to hurry.
“Ah. Well…” A beat of silence. “I suppose you don’t need to be married these days if you’re able to support yourself. What do you do? My daughter works in marketing for a company here in the city.”
“Me too.” The lie slipped out unbidden and much to Katara’s own surprise. She supposed she was thrown for a loop by the older woman’s unchecked curiosity.
Thankfully, the doors slid open and Katara found herself nearly darting out of the elevator, throwing the necessary formalities over her shoulder as she went. But the woman followed, clearly headed for an apartment down the hall.
“I see we’re neighbors!”
Pausing outside her apartment, Katara willed herself to be just a little more patient and turned back with a smile. The other woman was staring at a bag of food perched outside the door; it contained Katara’s hastily ordered breakfast.
“It really is healthier to cook for yourself,” the woman said, not unkindly.
A halfhearted laugh. No sense in telling a perfect stranger of the shameful fact that she couldn’t cook to save her life.
“Would you like me to bring you some food?”
“Oh! Um. No, that’s okay.”
Confusion skittered across the old woman’s face.
“I appreciate the offer, though,” Katara rushed on, eager to not be horrendously rude. “Thank you. Have a good day.”
“Goodbye.”
Free from the obligation of early morning socializing, Katara punched in the code to her lock and slipped into her apartment. The clock on the wall told her that the forced interaction had cost her five precious minutes. She was going to be late.
Katara was never late.
Breakfast in one hand, coffee in the other, Katara slipped through the doors of the dental clinic and up the stairs to her office, hoping that nobody would notice she was only five minutes early today instead of her usual ten. There would be just enough time to eat a few bites of food and gulp down some much needed caffeine before she had to start her day. Heels clicking across the floor, she tossed her purse on her desk, exchanged her jacket for her white coat, and sat down at her desk, prepared to dig in.
A knock at her door threw another wrench into her morning.
“Doctor Amaguk, Mrs. Kim is here for her appointment.”
A chatty stranger in the elevator, a rushed morning routine after her run, her breakfast gone cold before even a bite was taken, and now her coffee would go cold right along with it. Of course her first appointment had to show up early. That just seemed to be her luck today.
Another knock.
“Doctor Amaguk?”
“I’m coming,” Katara called, throwing one last wistful look at her breakfast before heading out the door.
The hygienist ran her through the woman’s complaints on their way down the stairs. Mrs. Kim was in her sixties and her teeth weren’t faring so well. She reported toothaches on both sides of her mouth. With this knowledge imparted upon her, Katara walked into the impeccably white patient room only to find herself face to face with the same woman from the elevator.
Smiling at her, big and broad as ever, the woman exclaimed, “You’re actually a dentist!”
Guilt rang hollow and loud through Katara’s heart. With shame coloring her face, she set about conducting the appointment as professionally as possible and found that Mrs. Kim’s open-heartedness and small-town friendliness soon swept away any awkwardness that had lingered. By the time the appointment was over, Katara found her cheeks pinking for a different reason as her patient thanked her profusely at the door.
“Thank you so much, Doctor. I was in so much pain and I was worried this would cost too much money. You know, my daughter is paying, so I wasn’t going to have this done if the cost was too high. But you’re so kind. ”
Rather abruptly, Katara found herself thinking of her grandmother in the Water Tribe village of Naamaruk, hours away off the coast of the mainland. Struck again by a different kind of guilt, the kind that hit like lightning to her heart, she found herself casting her first sincere smile towards the old woman.
“Your daughter must care about you a lot.”
“She does.”
“Doctor Amaguk!” The chief doctor’s voice shook like thunder through the halls of the clinic. Katara, headed home to change before meeting her friend Toph for dinner, froze. “May I have a word with you?”
As she turned to face Pakku, she realized that the others in the hall were determinedly refusing to look at the scene before them, eyes riveted too hard on charts in hands and pictures on walls. Heartbeat loud and racing in her ears, Katara met the cold eyes of her chief dentist and found what she expected: Disapproval spread across his face in the form of a sneer. The dome of his balding head shone faintly in the sunlight coming through the windows.
She despised him.
Opening the door to his office, he gestured for her to enter. She did so with apprehensive feet, heart plummeting into her stomach when she realized that he had Mrs. Kim’s chart pulled up on his computer screen.
“I was just glancing over this,” he said, sitting down behind his desk and making no move to offer Katara a seat. Apparently, it was to be a short conversation. No doubt he expected her to agree to his own recommendations without complaint. “This treatment is not rigorous enough.”
“I’m hoping to preserve as many of Mrs. Kim’s teeth as possible,” Katara said, clasping her hands behind her back and straightening her shoulders. “She’s still young.”
Pakku snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes.
“Is there something wrong with what I’ve prescribed?” Katara needled.
“You know for a fact that this patient will need implants or dentures sooner or later. You should have gone that route. The best defense is a good offense. You know that. I say it every day.” He stood up, placing his palms on his desk, and leaned in. “Aren’t you supposed to be one the best dentists on my staff?”
There was a threat there in his words, a dare to challenge him in his watery blue eyes.
“Come up with a new strategy, Doctor Amaguk.”
The smugness in his voice sent chills racing down Katara’s spine. A sneer twitched at her upper lip. Sharp pain in the center of her forehead told her that a tension headache was about to break loose.
“No.”
“No?” If he was shocked by her assertiveness, he didn’t show it.
“Mrs. Kim is my patient. I will plan her treatment the way I see fit.”
“I see.” There was a terrible pause in which Pakku stared at her, thin lips pressed together and face turning just the slightest shade of red. “Well, then.” He turned to his computer and set about scrolling through a dropdown menu on the chart. “I’ll just go ahead and make myself her doctor.”
“Excuse me?”
“If you won’t treat her correctly—”
“Correctly!” Katara’s rage exploded, a typhoon shattering through ice. “I don’t care how you treat other patients, but don’t touch mine!”
“Are you hinting at something?” Pakku growled.
It was all there, simmering under her skin. Eight years of watching as Pakku, the chief doctor of this dental practice deliberately took advantage of his patients in order to make more money. The words spewed out of her mouth before she could stop them, white-hot and angry. She derided his lack of ethics, set forth examples of how he ripped off his patients, and shouted that he had clearly forgotten the Hippocratic Oath. And when the rage receded, ebbing away like the tide on the beach in Naamaruk, Katara found herself with no regrets aside from the fact that she hadn’t called him out sooner.
He was shaking, face turned puce, hands gripping the edge of his desk. “How dare you look down on a doctor who has more experience than you! You—!”
“I’ll see myself out,” Katara snapped. “Don’t worry.” A laugh bubbled out of her that she couldn’t stop, hard and cold. “I can’t believe you dare to call yourself a doctor.”
Turning on her heel, she stormed out of Pakku’s office. His words rang out after her, shaking through the halls of the practice. She’d ruined herself, he declared. He’d make sure she’d never be able to find work.
The people who had been so indifferent before now gawked as she breezed past. Katara ignored them all, set on stopping by some of her favorite shops on her way to meet Toph. She felt she deserved a treat. There was a pair of shoes in her online cart for which she’d been waiting for a promo code before ordering.
“No sense in waiting now,” Katara muttered. “I’ll need them for a job interview later.”
“You’re shitting me.”
Sighing, Katara swirled her wine, watching the deep red liquid form a mini typhoon in the glass. “Toph,” she said, “this is a nice restaurant. Can you please refrain from using expletives while we’re here?”
Eyes the color of sea glass, just the slightest bit hazy and half-hidden behind messy black bangs, rolled as Toph scoffed a laugh. “Please. What’re they gonna do? Kick out the heir to the Beifong fortune? Doubtful.”
“Still.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The restaurant had been Katara’s choice, another comforting splurge after her eventful day. Her other pricey purchase, a pair of glittery silver heels (the kind that only princesses wore in movies) sat in a bag on the table. Perhaps it wasn’t totally polite of her to leave them there, but she liked knowing that they were close. She liked peeking into the bag every now and then to admire them.
“Katara, what’s the motto you’ve lived by for the past twelve years?” Toph asked.
“Don’t be smug, Toph.”
Raising an eyebrow, Toph tapped her finger on the table, waiting.
A sigh. “‘Don’t be nosy and focus on myself.’”
“Exactly. It’s not like you to get involved to this extreme.”
“He was on a power trip! I’m a woman of conviction. For spirits’ sake, I’m a doctor!”
Toph, effortlessly elegant in her silk button down shirt and messy bun, made a rather inelegant noise before reaching for her own glass of wine. “What’s with the shoes, then?” she asked, prodding the bag with her free hand.
“They’re a gift to myself for doing what I should have done a long time ago,” Katara said, tipping her nose up in defiance and shifting in her seat. “The underlying message is ‘Better days to come.’ Besides, I need something nice for the inevitable stream of interviews headed my way.”
The conversation was interrupted with the arrival of their food. After making sure her friend was squared away, all necessary items within reach and laid out neatly, Katara tucked in to her own food, grateful to finally have an uninterrupted meal. Her growling stomach had been a reminder that she’d never eaten her breakfast or had her coffee this morning.
“What are you going to do?” Toph queried after a moment or two.
“Well, I don’t have enough money saved to open my own clinic yet. I’ll just have to find work elsewhere.”
It was a bitter realization. Pakku’s clinic had been the highest paying job she could find. Quitting might mean that she’d have to put off opening her own clinic another year or two. So much for her meticulous, well-thought out plan.
“I’ll put in a word for you with a dentist I know.”
“Thanks, Toph.”
A moment of silence punctuated by the clatter of chopsticks against plates.
“We’re going to be stuck working for other people forever, aren’t we?”
“What are you talking about?” Katara asked with a smirk. She sent a gentle, teasing kick to her friend’s calf under the table. “You have a cushy job at your dad’s law firm and you don’t even go to work seventy-five percent of the time!”
Toph grumbled something and shoved a wad of noodles into her mouth.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“You know I hate working for him and living off their money.”
“So find something else.”
“Like what?” Toph groaned and grabbed for her glass of wine again, frowning when she found it to be empty. “We have to find a way to escape this vicious cycle of working for other people.”
Her words cast a pall over the table. It hadn’t been something Katara had ever given much thought to. She’d always felt like her own woman, being able to provide so well for herself and lacking for nothing. What Toph said was true, though. They weren’t really free to do as they pleased as long as they worked for other people. And Katara’s deferred dream made her feel that much gloomier.
“Wanna get drunk after dinner?” she asked.
A victorious smile swept its way across Toph’s face. “I thought you’d never ask, Sweetness.”
Morning greeted Katara with harsh sunlight flooding through her open living room curtains, a sharp pain in her neck from sleeping on the couch, and a raging voicemail from Pakku berating her for posting something about him on the internet. Head pounding, dread and confusion creeping up her spine, Katara glanced over to her coffee table where her laptop sat open next to two empty wine bottles.
“Oh, spirits, no,” she groaned, reaching a reluctant finger out to hit a key.
The screen lit up, bright and making her squint as it compounded the pain of her hangover. Sure enough, there it was on her laptop, the result of her drunken night with Toph: A typo-filled message in the dental forum whistleblowing on Pakku’s practices.
“Shit!”
The delete button proved a fruitless endeavor. Prompted to fill in a password, Katara found that no such thing existed in her fragmented memories of the night before. Panic rising like bile in her throat, Katara lept from the couch, hands clasped in her hair.
“Shitshitshitshitshit fuck!”
A moan from behind the sleek designer couch signaled the presence of another person and Katara nearly screamed. Toph’s head bobbed into sight, her hair standing on end and her face contorted in pain.
“For fuck’s sake, Katara! Keep it down!”
“I whistle blew!” the blue-eyed woman yelped. “I’m a whistleblower! Oh, spirits!”
A groggy, “What?” was her only response.
“Dammit, Toph! I’m totally screwed!”
“Katara, what are you talking about?”
“I posted about Pakku’s practices in the dental forum, Toph. I’m never going to find a job now!”
A sickening, suspicious silence drifted between the two of them. Gradually, Toph heaved herself to her feet and shuffled around the couch. Sitting down, she patted the seat next to her, but Katara couldn’t bring herself to sit. She paced the length of the room instead, biting at her thumbnail and trying not to cry.
“You’re going to find work, Katara. I promise. And if you need help, I’m sure my dad can—”
“Toph, you don’t understand,” Katara said, coming to a stop next to the credenza. Her new shoes sat scattered atop it next to a treasured picture from her childhood. A nearly forgotten beach, her mother, her father, her brother…the four of them on their last family trip. “He’s going to ruin my reputation. I’m done for.”
An alert on her phone sent Katara’s heart reeling in her chest. No doubt it was a notification that her credit card bill was due soon. She could barely bring herself to look at it, the knowledge that she’d quit her job and destroyed her future a heavy weight in the back of her mind. There were bills to pay and…! Hands shaking, Katara glanced at the phone and found herself with a different sort of mortification than she’d been expecting.
Mom’s birthday stood out in bold letters beneath the date.
How had she forgotten?
Panic coursed through her veins, heartbreak shattered her anew as it had every year for the past twenty-four years, and all she could think was Escape.
“I have to get out of here,” Katara choked out as tears spilled hot and unexpected down her cheeks.
Toph stood up, alarm clear on her face. “What?”
“I’ve gotta go.”
“Katara!”
Grabbing the first clothes she could find, Katara changed in haste and tugged a brush through her hair, ripping several knots in the process. Toph was still standing in the middle of her living room, dumbfounded, as she scrambled for her purse and car keys.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.” The words trembled, barely made it out of her mouth fully-formed. “I’ve just… I’ve gotta get out of here.”
Toph called her name, persistent and insistent, but Katara ignored her, hurrying out the door. Huddled in the corner of the opulent elevator, she wiped the tears from her eyes and did her best to pull herself together during the descent to the parking garage. By the time she was buckled into the car, there was one destination in her mind despite the fact that she hadn’t set foot there in two decades or more.
Naamaruk.
Spring, the Water Tribe village of Naamaruk, Earth Kingdom
The waters of Naamaruk Harbor churned beneath the fishing boat, drowning out the chatter of the men aboard the ship and sending a welcome, cooling spray into Zuko’s face. Morning was still young and the waves were still high. He’d planned this day intentionally, accepting only one early job in order to take advantage of what was predicted to be a good morning for surfing. His board was waiting in the bed of his truck. His wetsuit was a nuisance of an additional layer beneath his tee and flannel, but rendered a welcome nuisance considering that it meant he was able to take some time for himself before continuing on with his jobs for the day. There were several vacancies today and he’d be busy until long after sundown.
It was nice to look forward to a well-deserved break in the middle of it all.
One of the few Fire Nation locals in a small Water Tribe village off the coast of the Earth Kingdom, Zuko had expected to find himself feeling wildly out of place upon moving here. The people of Naamaruk had welcomed him with open arms, though, and a certain sort of nosy persistence endemic only to people from a small town. He’d found that he fit in well, that nobody asked unwelcome questions about him, and that his desire to live simply and help where needed was something of a necessity.
Stepping off the boat, Zuko took a moment to negotiate the manner of his payment with Iseul and, having settled it, set off for his truck. On his way, he passed through the local marketplace. As he walked, people called out to him, greetings of “Good morning, Chief Himura!” and “Thank you for your help the other day!” erupting in his wake. He wasn’t one for the ceremony of their attention, but the villagers had always been kind to him, so he shared his small smiles with them and made sure to chat as he passed by those who wished for a little more of his time. Kindness had been something of a rarity in his life for a time and eventually became something he craved.
Naamaruk had allowed something to blossom in his soul. Something that often felt like hope and home.
Having lived most of his childhood in the center of the Fire Nation, the sea had called out to him immediately upon his move to the village. It was open, it was free. It was an entity that welcomed his need for solitude when he needed it and provided a steady stream of work so that he could afford to live. There was peace in this corner of the world. Happiness. Things he had only known in fits and starts for quite some time.
Surfboard finally retrieved, Zuko turned towards the beach, contentment washing over him. He’d found what he needed here—a family of sorts, friends, steady work. There wasn’t more he could ask for, all things considered.
The wounds festered, both old and new. By the time Katara arrived at Gran Gran’s house in Naamaruk, she was aching for the hugs she’d gone so long without and a bowl of steaming seaweed soup. Gran Gran’s house was empty, though. Dark. Further down the hill, Sokka’s was as well. Lonely and feeling somewhat desperate for her family, Katara did her best to ignore the hollowness in her heart that grew sharper and twisted deeper the closer she drew to the beach.
In the village proper, she stopped by both the hardware store and the supermarket and found them lacking in either her brother or his wife. Baffled and dejected, Katara shut herself back in her car and considered her options. She could drive another three hours home and return to the shambles of her life, or she could wait for her family to show up and hopefully find some sort of consolation. Not for the loss of her job, really, but for the raw, reopened wound that was the loss of her mother.
She’d been able to ignore it every year by throwing herself into first school and then work. But now she had nothing. No distractions. There was only the lack of a familiar face in this countryside village and the melancholic call of the beach which had heralded her mother’s final days.
Water glittered in the sun, just visible through the gaps between buildings. Despite herself, Katara heeded the call of it, leaving her car in its spot in a rather vacant parking lot and taking slow, begrudging steps towards that fateful shoreline.
Her new shoes seemed an absurd contrast to the sand, the heels puncturing into the damp, compacted grains. She found herself pushing on, though, until the sorrow became too much and she had to sink to the ground. Arms wrapped around her shins, she allowed herself a few silent tears. As the memories of her childhood washed over her, a blanket of clouds drew its way across the sun. She remembered this beach bathed in sunlight. Sokka’s laughter, her father’s enthusiasm, her mother’s only waning moments of strength spent on a photograph taken by an old man who’d had in his company a small boy—a small boy who had made silly faces until Katara would smile.
Not much had changed in the town or here on the shore. Twenty-odd years and it felt as if the place was stuck in time. What the draw was for Sokka, Katara couldn’t understand. There was too much hurt here in this tiny little village.
Drying her eyes, Katara kicked her shoes off and set them aside. If she couldn’t see her brother or her grandmother, perhaps her dad could bring some comfort on this day. As she rose to her feet, she dialed his number and watched a lone surfer in the water. He was waiting for a wave she suspected wouldn’t come just as she waited for her father to answer her call.
He answered on the final ring, voice cutting through the line with warmth and happiness. “Katara!” The delight there was a punch to her gut. Evidently, he didn’t remember.
“Hi, Dad.” She prayed the sadness in her voice wouldn’t carry through.
“What’s going on? I don’t usually hear from you unless you have news.”
Another wave of guilt plowed over her. It seemed she wouldn’t be escaping that feeling. “I suppose not,” she admitted quietly. Water lapped at her feet, drenching the hem of her pants.
“Well, what’s going on? Anything to report?”
Shame now. Scalding hot and relentless. “Nothing,” she lied. He’d be so disappointed in her if he knew.
He laughed, jovial and bright. She almost hated him for it. Almost.
“You should come have dinner with us soon, little penguin. We’d love to see you.”
“That sounds good, Dad. We’ll plan for it.”
“Alright. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
Feeling more alone in her sorrow than ever before, Katara returned to where she’d been sitting. She’d only paced a dozen or so feet away during the call, but the return to her little stretch of sand revealed something rather distressing—her shoes were missing. Except for the lone surfer, the beach was deserted. Disbelief flooded her body and she let out a small shriek of annoyance and distress. She suspected the answer was in her drenched pant hems.
Her shoes had been swept away by the tide.
Frantic, at a loss, having had nothing short of a horrible twenty-four hours, all she could do was jog helplessly up and down the shore, eyes sweeping the gentle roll of the water for her coveted shoes. They’d been so expensive!
Turning to make her way down the beach again, Katara found herself face to face with the surfer. His surly face was framed by damp, dark hair, his left eye marked by a prominent scar. Startled, she opened her mouth to apologize, but was cut short when he thrust a sparkly object in her direction.
“My shoe!”
He blinked.
“Thank you so much! I’m—!” Grasping the shoe to her heart, Katara found herself with the sudden realization that he’d only handed back one shoe. “I’m sorry, but,” she took a step forward, he retreated half a step back, “you didn’t happen to find the other one, did you?”
“No.” The word was rough and raspy. Perhaps he had a cold. The water around Naamaruk wasn’t exactly warm—spring was still in full swing and the wind was more than a gentle whisper.
Tucking a lock of hair back into her braid, Katara did her best to smile. “Seeing as how you found this one, do you think you could help me find the other? I’m not normally one to ask for favors, but—”
“There are always people like you,” he interrupted, scoffing. “Guess that’s why the saying ‘Save a person from drowning and they’ll ask for your belongings’ exists.”
Dumbfounded, Katara felt her mouth drop open. “Excuse me?”
“I didn’t find your shoe. It floated onto my board. Do you have any idea how startling that was? Who even wears shoes like that?”
Crotchety. That was the best word she could find to describe this man. Crotchety and flat out rude.
“I’m sorry,” Katara repeated, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “I’m not usually the kind of person to ask for help. I’m barefoot, though, and my car is parked in the village. Could you please…?”
“No. You’ll be fine. Move.”
And he swept past her with his surfboard, clearly intent on heading back to his own life.
Entirely taken aback, Katara stood there, her single glittering shoe clasped in her hands. It was all she could do not to yell insults in his wake. Several paces away from her, however, the surfer paused. She watched his shoulders heave beneath his wetsuit with a sigh. Without a word, he turned and kicked his own sandals in her direction. They landed the right way up in the sand, the words Do not steal. Bathroom use Jasmine Dragon Cafe printed across the tops.
“Are you kidding me?”
He scowled. “Go barefoot then.”
Barefoot! How was she supposed to drive home barefoot? It was hours back to Ba Sing Se! The indifference in his eyes posed a challenge to her. Feeling spiny and bristly, Katara shoved her feet into the sandals and then watched as the surfer walked away without another word.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered at his retreating back.
The street housing the lot where she’d parked her car was quiet. Thoroughly set on heading home, Katara was on her way to the lot when she was deterred by the unmistakable sound of a child wailing. Alarmed, she poked her head around the corner and found two children alone on the sidewalk outside of a vacant building, a girl who was sobbing uncontrollably and a boy with a rather familiar wolf tail tied in his hair.
“Tarkik!”
Turning at the sound of his name, the little boy’s face lit up with a big, brilliant smile so much like his father’s that it made Katara ache.
“Aunt Katara!”
He barreled towards her, little arms wrapping around her in a fierce hug that squeezed her stomach uncomfortably tight. Just up the hill, a man with a surfboard paused to observe the scene, but Katara was so caught up in the moment that he escaped her notice.
“What’s going on?” she asked, extracting herself from her nephew’s embrace and crouching in front of the girl. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“She’s fine,” Tarkik said, shoving his face near the girl’s. “She’s only upset because she hit me in the face and my tooth came out!”
“What?!”
A new decibel of wailing was reached in that moment as the girl held out her hand. Resting in her palm was a rather bloody tooth. Judging by the state of it, Katara needed to investigate the loss immediately.
“Do you remember what I do?” she asked her nephew, reaching for his face. “I’m a dentist, right? I need to take a quick look at your mouth. Open wide.”
The boy did as he was told, but was immediately distracted by the task of elbowing the girl as she let out a screeching cry. “I’m fine, you baby!” he exclaimed.
“Tarkik!”
“Sorry!” He opened his mouth wide once more.
Katara found herself breathing a sigh of relief. It was only a baby tooth and the damage didn’t look too bad. Still, it would be better to have it checked out in a clinic properly. She’d pay for it and explain to Sokka later.
“Is there a dentist nearby?”
“Thirty minutes,” Tarkik responded. He gave her a mad sort of grin. “Dad hates it. He curses a lot on the drive there.”
“Where are your parents today?”
“In the city with Gran Gran Kanna. Mama hasn’t been feeling too well lately.”
If Suki wasn’t well, it was news to Katara. And Sokka was constantly texting her about everything under the sun, trivial matters or not. Come to think of it, though, he hadn’t even mentioned he’d be in Ba Sing Se today, much less with Suki and Gran Gran. Frowning, Katara asked, “Who are you with while your dad and mom are away?”
“With-with me and m-my big sister,” the girl interjected through her tears.
“Is your sister home?”
“Noooo.” Another wailing cry.
Thirty minutes to the nearest dentist and hours from the best doctors in Ba Sing Se. What had her brother been thinking when moving here? Glancing around the street, Katara spied a small pharmacy and fished some money from her purse. “Here,” she said, pressing the bills into her nephew's hand. “I want you to go into that store and get me some gauze, okay? It will help stop the bleeding. Then come right back here. I’m going to try to calm your friend down.”
Tarkik was gone in a flash, but Katara hardly had time to turn back to the sobbing girl before the commotion summoned a young woman from a cafe. Blowing past Katara, nearly shoving her out of the way, the woman pressed her hands to the little girl’s face. She completed a rushed once over before erupting into a thousand questions all at the same time, most of which were along the lines of, “Kiyi! Did you hit him again? I told you that you have to learn to control yourself! How could you do this? The Amaguks are going to kill me!”
Prompt as ever, Tarkik reappeared, holding out the gauze to his aunt. Ripping open the package, Katara pressed some of the material into the boy’s mouth before intervening in the scene.
“He’s okay,” she announced to the woman, stepping behind her nephew and resting her hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I promise. I got him some gauze and—”
“Who are you to say that?” The woman turned to her, gaze razor-sharp and nearly accusatory in nature.
Tarkik mumbled something incoherent and then pulled the bloody gauze from his mouth and repeated in calm, clear tones, “This is my aunt Katara. She’s a dentist.” Though she couldn’t see his face, Katara thought she detected a hint of pride in his voice. It sparked a little flicker of warmth in her heart.
The suspicion in the woman’s eyes flickered into curiosity before she glanced down at Katara’s borrowed shoes. “How did you get the toilet slippers from my cafe?”
Looking at her feet and feeling somewhat abashed, Katara chuckled. “It’s… kind of a long story.”
“I see.” Straightening up, the woman sent a flustered glance towards the crying girl. “Kiyi, for spirits’ sake. Get yourself together. He’s fine.”
“I honestly am!” Tarkik said, swinging his arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Ms. Himura, can I take Kiyi to play the claw machine? Maybe I can win her something to cheer her up!”
His request was met with pursed lips and a sigh. “Fine. But be back in an hour. I have to feed you both dinner.”
And just like that, Tarkik was tearing down the street, Kiyi in tow.
With a roll of her bright gold eyes (a shade which looked familiar but Katara couldn’t place), the woman offered her hand. “Azula. I run the Jasmine Dragon.”
“Katara.”
The woman’s hand was hot but not clammy and almost unnaturally smooth.
“Come inside and have something to drink. It’s on the house.”
“I’m fine,” Katara protested. “Really. I should…” Text her brother about cleaning out her nephew’s mouth with a solution and head home.
“Please. You were kind and…understanding with my sister when I was…not. It’s the least I can do.”
Katara sighed, thinking about the hours-long drive back to Ba Sing Se. She wanted to mind her own business and leave. This impromptu trip had been ill-fated from the start. Something underneath the other woman’s rigidity, however, spoke to an eager desire to display kindness. It reminded Katara of the patient she’d met in the elevator of her building. It reminded her of her Gran Gran. Heart softening, she nodded and followed the woman into the cafe.
Homey and eclectically decorated, the Jasmine Dragon was filled with books and plants. The table which Azula urged Katara to sit at was home to a book with her name on the byline. Curiosity tingled at the back of Katara’s mind and she shoved it down. She was not going to get involved in this damn village. She was going to have her obligatory coffee and leave.
“Have you ever been to Naamaruk before?”
“A few times.” Katara hoped her curt answer would be enough to quell the line of questioning.
“I’d never been here before I moved here. But after my mother passed away, well…” Pausing in her coffee making for just a moment, Azula adjusted her posture and then continued on in a very matter of fact way. “My mother loved the sea here. She used to tell me stories about it when I was a child and it seemed to me like the best place to raise my sister. The city isn’t a kind place.”
The frankness with which she talked about liking the village spoke to something in Katara. The shared loss of a mother made her soften with sympathy. By the time a cup of coffee was plunked in front of her, however, the woman had put up some sort of shield, one that Katara felt she was only able to see due to her own habit of putting up one much the same.
“This place is too far from everything,” Azula admitted dismissively, waving a hand through the air. She made herself at home in the chair across from Katara and nudged the cup of coffee closer to the brunette. “We don’t even have a dentist. If there was a clinic, people would be lining up. There are a lot of old people here, you know.” Her sharp eyes flicked over Katara’s face once more. “If you’re ever interested, I can give you a recommendation for a clinic location.”
Discomfort with the route of the conversation seeped into Katara’s body. Seeking a way out of the conversation, she took a sip of the coffee and found that she had to choke it down. Rancid in flavor, the coffee was the worst she’d ever had. How was the woman staying in business?
“It’s good,” she lied through her teeth.
“Really?” Azula cocked her head to the side and quirked an eyebrow. “We’re more known for our tea.”
Tracking the gesture of the other woman’s hand toward a wall filled with dark tins, Katara felt embarrassment tingle at the base of her spine. Shaking her head, she took another sip of the coffee Azula had made and repeated her compliments. It didn’t matter what she thought of the coffee. She was going to mind her own business and leave.
Drying his hair with a towel and resituating the fall of his shirt against his damp torso, Zuko pulled his phone from the counter and glanced through the messages that had accumulated during his time in the water. There were at least a dozen of them, people requesting his help with yardwork, tutoring, home repairs, an extra hand on the fishing boats… It was easy to agree to every request. Only a few minor scheduling negotiations were needed and acquired his clients’ approval without issue. The people of Naamaruk were willing to be flexible for good work. And he was able to provide that quality work at a rate most contractors wouldn’t consider.
A final message rolled in as Zuko was agreeing to help Ms. Amaguk replace some loose floorboards in her house in a week’s time. Coincidentally, the message was from the same woman’s grandson, Sokka. It hadn’t taken too long for Zuko and Sokka to become friends, though it had taken much longer for Sokka’s wife and Zuko’s sister to see eye-to-eye. Both mechanically inclined and gifted with a proclivity for working with their hands, the men were quick to bond over some repairs done to a boat and had become drinking and fishing buddies not long after. Sokka was a good person, solid and hard working, though his sense of humor often left Zuko feeling baffled.
Hey, man, read the message headed up by Sokka’s wide grin and bright blue eyes. Your part’s at my shop. 120k Earth Kingdom silver for pickup. Still in BSS but you can take the box and leave the money in its place.
Zuko snorted. It was an astronomical price and he knew Sokka knew it.
Sea water washed from his hair, a fresh change of clothes suitable for an afternoon at the gutting decks, Zuko headed out the door. Stepping into his boots gave him pause.
The memory of the shoe thief wavered in his mind. She’d had a pretty face and horribly sad eyes. He’d been caught up in staring at her from out on the water when her ridiculous shoe had drifted across his board. Ostentatious and shiny, he’d nearly mistaken it for a salmon and would have if it weren’t for his knowledge that salmon didn’t live in the Naamaruk sea.
Up close, he’d nearly thought she was a local. Something about her had been strangely familiar. It was as though he’d seen her face a dozen times throughout his life. But the brand name on the shoe he’d found and the quality of her clothing told him she wasn’t from Naamaruk. She’d never asked for his help with home repairs or stopped by the supermarket when he was covering for Suki. She was nameless, unknown. And he’d treated her persistent requests for help in finding her other shoe as though she was the fussy city dweller he’d made her out to be.
A twinge of regret twisted his stomach. He should have helped her. He should have done more than kick a dirty pair of bathroom slippers her way. She’d been frantic and the sadness in her eyes had plucked at a particularly painful thread in his soul.
It had been too much to bear, that strange hint of a tragic connection with a woman he’d never before met.
As he tied his laces, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was on her way back to the city. He’d sent Azula to help with Kiyi and Tarkik so that the blue-eyed woman, so obviously desperate to leave the village behind, could finally be on her way.
She must be, Zuko told himself. And then he thought no more of it as he headed back into the village on foot to pick up his camera part from Sokka’s shop.
80k Earth Kingdom silver, he fired off in a text to his friend as he walked. It was a routine, usually one they performed in person. Sokka would name an outrageous price, Zuko would intentionally low-ball him in return, Sokka would fire back with… The vibration of his phone prompted him to pull his phone from his pocket.
Yup. There was Sokka’s usual response.
What! Man, you’re totally insane. I’m hardly marking you up for delivery at all. 100k EK silver.
Shaking his head and biting back a smirk, Zuko rounded the back of Sokka’s shop and pulled the spare key from his pocket.
You shouldn’t be charging me for delivery at all, Sokka. You didn’t deliver anything. 95k silver.
The part was tucked away in Sokka’s desk drawer, along with a pair of suspiciously small socks that had Zuko wondering when had been the last time Sokka had done something even remotely akin to cleaning up after himself. It had been years since Tarkik had worn socks that small. Leaving the money in place of the box containing his part, Zuko closed up the shop and was halfway up the street when Sokka’s response rolled in.
Fine. 95k, but you owe me one.
Caught up in his response, Zuko didn’t notice as he breezed past the woman from the beach, hardly ten feet of distance separating both oblivious parties.