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Maybe she should have gone after him.
The thought weighed on her ever since her last interaction with Aang. A fight. He’d stormed away, and the only reason she hadn’t chased after him was that Zuko had pulled her back. But maybe she still should have gone. She hadn’t, and now he’d vanished.
Katara was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Zuko at first, moving to stand beside her. They’d all been preparing the camp for the night, Sokka valiantly telling jokes to try and lift the somber atmosphere. Afterward, Katara had drifted away, unable to fake composure for the others. He seemed to know that she didn’t want to talk, and Katara found that despite her melancholy mood, she didn’t mind Zuko's quiet company.
Zuko slowly edged nearer, until his shoulder touched hers.
Katara had noticed some things about Zuko. She’d observed him more than she’d like to admit to anyone, including herself. She’d assumed it was because she hadn't trusted him at first, but a nagging little voice in her head now told her that wasn’t quite true.
Not the full truth, anyway.
Katara knew that Zuko had to be coaxed into group hugs, and that he seemed to prefer physical distance. But she suspected he somehow craved closeness, too, because ever since she’d hugged him after their search for Yon Rha, he was often near her. When he helped her cook or clean. When he handed her tea. When he sat beside her at the campfire. Or when they just stood beside each other, like right now.
She had not seen Zuko getting this close to the others during everyday activity. There was something deeply satisfying about being the person he trusted this way, and when he inched closer still, her pulse quickened, her stomach starting to flutter.
That was also a recent development, this feeling in her stomach.
Zuko’s knuckles brushed hers, and her heart burst into overdrive.
Had it been an accident? Or had he actually meant to—did he want—
His pinkie lightly tapped her hand, and Katara’s eyes went wide, heat warming her face. She peeked quickly up at him, but Zuko was staring rather determinedly up and in the other direction, patches of deep pink on his unscarred cheekbone.
Pulse jumping, Katara opened her fingers. Just slightly.
And Zuko immediately slipped his palm into hers, wrapping her hand up securely into his. He squeezed lightly, tentatively; and Katara, feeling strangely buoyant, strangely dizzy, returned the pressure, unable to control her small, shy smile.
A boy had never held her hand like this before.
She didn’t want to assume anything by it, but the wriggle in her stomach refused to be ignored. Katara glanced up again to see him still flushed and avoiding her eye, but with an undeniable smile of content. And just a hint of triumph.
Fighting the sudden urge to giggle, Katara curled closer into his warm side.
Zuko was here.
She’d never been more glad for that.
