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"Can’t sleep?”
The voice that comes from behind her startles her slightly, and when she turns around, her eyes finally peeling themselves away from the wading waters of the shuttering sea, she sees it’s only him.
He steps closer, now, fully out and onto the airy balcony before sitting beside her with his knees drawn up to his chest. She wonders, for the moment, if he can feel it too.
“No,” she finally replies, her voice barely a whisper as her eyes flit up to the sky.
Smoldering clouds blur out the sight of the moon; an odd, hazy sort of film overlies the ink of the sky. Three days. That’s how much time they have until the comet finally comes in. It was to come in a fit of rage and fire and even that was an understatement: thinking that they were actually ready to face the end of the world.
“What do you think will happen? I mean… after it’s over.” Katara’s voice is quiet, wary yet full of question. She doesn't understand, either, what it was about this boy that makes her words tumble out so vulnerably, but before she can stop them, they are stolen away by the wind.
For a moment, by the way he stands within such heavy silence beside her, Katara thinks that maybe he doesn’t even know himself. That is, until he speaks up and surprises them both. “I don’t know. I guess we just… try to forget.”
It wasn’t unusual for them to find themselves like this: an open sky before them with the lingering loom of a battering war pumping through their veins. It was always quiet, always… oddly calming. Katara never thought she would so much as breath the same air as the prince, but now, she dared to bare herself before him.
“Do you think we could ever really forget?” She asks, and she finally tears her gaze away from the moon to look up at him, his own eyes seeking out that same question, it seemed.
A breath before he speaks. “Do you want to?” His question is so simple, yet it leaves her confused.
“I…” she starts, but stops before she can finish. Did she want to forget the war? More than anything, she wishes she could forget it all. The loss of her mother, her father’s years of absence from their life as he fought through the war. But, she also realizes, a lot of good came of it. They may not know what the future holds — for the next three days — or for the rest of their lives. But, she does know that she doesn’t want to forget. At least, not everything.
“That’s a really loaded question.”
A puff of air escapes passed his lips in a rush that she thinks is a sort of laugh.
“What?”
“Nothing, you just — you asked me first. If I thought we could forget,” he says. “My answer?” He’s slow this time, licking his lips as if he’s wiping away the taste of her question. “You can if you want... I think. If you don’t want to forget, then you’re never going to be able to.”
She lets his words sink in before asking once more. “Do you want to forget? After everything that’s happened…. do you want to forget?”
His answer came quicker than she anticipated. “No.”
She turns to look at him, then, really, and truly look at him head on. His hand lifts to graze the left side of his face, and she begins to understand. “Everything that I’ve been through has made me who I am today. It’s made me… stronger. I need my past to remind me of why I can’t, and never will be like that again.”
For a moment, they sit in silence. This is the most she has ever heard him speaks openly about his past— to her directly, or just in general. She finds, alarmingly, that she doesn’t actually mind listening.
“I see.” It’s the only response that she feels fits. “Are you scared?”
Another one of those puffs falls passed his lips, but this time, he looks away. “More scared than I’ve been about… anything.” He lifts his head, then, and for a second, she thinks he’s finished. But then he turns to her with a more serious expression that pools tightness into her belly. “My father absolutely cannot win this war. If he does… I don’t know what will happen, but it won’t be good. For the rest of our lives we will be fighting for a day we won’t ever get to see.”
Silence.
“What day?” she asks.
“Freedom. We won’t ever see freedom and I can’t sit by and watch the entire world go through anything else like that again. Everyone has suffered enough, and a lot by my own family's hands.” He turns away to look down at his hands, then, and she knows what he’s thinking.
Bad idea or not— considering she’s never really touched him before— she reaches out and grabs his hands. To her surprise, he doesn’t pull away, but she watches his eyes close.
“You were different.” She starts simple. “You’re different now each and every day. You’re not that person anymore, and you never will be again. You said it yourself. Your past doesn’t define you.”
Zuko’s eyes were wavering, though somehow they keep their connection with her own. It was as if he was seeking out something more, something deeper, before his eyes fall away completely. It happens before she realizes it, but he’s pulling away, the skin of his hands sliding against her own until not even their fingertips touched.
For a moment, she thinks she’s upset him. But, after a lingering quiet, he speaks up.
“You don’t know me. Don’t even pretend to try and understand me.”
He’s right. But, the way he speaks isn’t that of anger, but of a pure and utter pain. He tries to hide it, but she notices. And she looks at him, searching out his stare until she finds it and holds him there.
“I don’t need to know you to know that there’s good in you.”
She leaves him with that, her eyes narrowed slightly and as she shifts to stand. Her eyes catch sight of the waves in the distance once more. “We all make mistakes, Zuko. But it isn’t about that. It’s making sure we know how to move passed them — move forward. Accept what you’ve done and move on. It’s the only way you’re ever going to find peace.”
If he had anything to say back, he doesn’t say it. Instead, only the wind follows her back inside. And, for a second, she turns to see him still sitting there, only his eyes, too, have found the waves now. “You should try and get some sleep. We start traveling tomorrow.”
The door closes between them.
She doesn’t sleep that night.