A/N: Do I, a 20 year old full-time college student, have the time to be writing a multi-chapter fanfic? No, probably not. Am I going to undertake this task anyway? Yes, so please take it easy on me. Anyway, hello there, and thanks for taking the time to read this fic. In summary, this is an AU of what would've happened if Kataang didn't kiss at the end of A:TLA and if Katara and Zuko had gone on a trip to find his mother. Different than the comics of course, and slightly inspired by Tempest In a Teacup by AkaVertigo.

She has nightmares now. Granted, she's had nightmares for as long as she can remember. When she was little, she would dream of the Fire Nation soldiers, faceless as they were soulless, plundering her village, week after week, month after month, year after year. She'd dream of the way fire would dance across the igloos of her neighbors, taunting them as it disintegrated what little they had, and how, even when she and her family would huddle in their hut, bones aching and bodies chilly, with the only relief being the small kindling and flickering flames at her feet, she'd want nothing more than to spit at it than to admit they needed the warmth.

Sometimes in her nightmares, she can hear her mother, from over a decade ago, whispering soothing words in her ears. Her body still shakes like it did in her childhood; she can still remember how indignantly she'd cross her arms when Sokka would make some comment about how she needed to stop being "scared" all the time and just live a little (and she was not scared of anything by the way, she was cold, thank you very much and even if she was scared—which she wasn't—it would be completely justified). She made sure she said that any time it came up.

"Don't worry my love," Kya had whispered, far too long ago. "I'll never let anyone take you away." Many of Katara's old nightmares were that she'd wake up one day and find that her mother was wrong. Now she wakes up, frenzied and crying, choking on guilt and grief, because it turns out her mother was right.

But tonight, she knows she's going to have new nightmares. It's the environment she's in, the Fire Nation palace; a place she never dreamed of being in or belonging to. She clings to the red satin covers that surround her but she can't help but feel like she's intruding somehow. Which she isn't. Zuko told her that she could spend the night here and he'd sleep in an adjacent wing. It seemed a bit improper for him to share a room with her if it was just the two of them and he had been too lazy (or maybe he was trying to hide how much pain he was truly in) to explain the specifics of palace etiquette.

It was after the duel had finished. Azula had long since given up on crying and resigned only to lying on the ground, cold, drenched, but still breathing.

"I'll send someone out for her," Zuko said. "But for right now, we need to sleep. I'll take you to an empty room." Katara nodded. She could tell from his body language, the way his shoulders were slumped, the tightness in his voice, the way he forced words past his teeth that he was speaking through pain. No amount of sleep would cure the kind of exhaustion he felt.

Still, he escorted her to the room personally, and Katara could tell from the tenseness of his jaw that he was struggling just to walk without her help. Another image to disturb her when she slept. In a voice that was awfully detached for how close they'd become, he thanked her again for saving him and bowed before her. She stared, and when he didn't get the cue, she gave him a long and lingering hug, and tried not to draw too much attention to the fact that his body was still violently trembling under the surface of her touch.

Right now, she tosses and turns and buries her face in the rich, red pillows, but nothing can make the bed she's in feel welcoming, feel like a home, but she knows it's all circumstantial. The comet is still passing and, even though she was able to tend to Zuko's wound, he's in no condition to travel. He's still twitching and his reflexes seem to be lagging and every movement seems so labored and forced. She can only imagine what it'd be like if he had to explain to the others what had happened in the Agni Kai whilst in his current state. All the commotion wouldn't be good for him either and, unfortunately, he has nowhere else to go but here. The palace is where he lives. Briefly, for one fleeting moment, Katara wonders if he has nightmares too. Maybe in his wing, he's lying in bed, twitching from the lightning flickering underneath his skin, knowing that nothing will make him feel at home.

The sound of flames erupting from somewhere outside is enough to let her know that he's not doing that. At least not yet.

She swings one foot out of bed, and then the other, walking down the maze of hallways that make up the palace. It's all guessing, fumbling her way through the dimness until she finds the courtyard again, and Zuko is out there, watching as guards come to take Azula away. Katara's too far, but she can see how Azula's fighting it, begging and pleading for another chance to duel her brother and lashing out when she realizes her demands will no longer be obeyed. Katara can see it clearly now, what Zuko was saying about how his sister was slipping. Azula isn't even a shell of who she used to be. It's almost sad.

It's been a while since Katara's had new material for her thoughts, since Aang nearly lost his life in Ba Sing Se. She remembers how it felt to wake up, night after night on a Fire Nation ship and feel like the cool metal walls were closing in on her. She knows that this is an image that will soon be joining her inventory. She can only imagine what her mind will do now, with a vision of Zuko, writhing in pain, stamped into her mind, and the sound of Azula screaming in agony latching to her eardrums.

I'm not you Zuko! Azula yells, and though Katara doesn't have any context for that particular statement, her heart drops when Zuko shouts back, It's painful to be the failure for once, isn't it?

Azula is dragged away before the arguing can escalate further but Katara remains hidden behind a pillar, looking at Zuko while he watches his sister get detained. He's tense and shaking all at once; stiff and rigid like the earth, fluid and unreliable like lightning, until his head falls back, and he lets one long stream of breath leave his lips. The flames come from the back of his throat; they swirl from his tongue and twist up and out, into the air. He closes his mouth and inhales before he does it once, then twice more.

It's not anger, Katara thinks, the way most firebending seems to be fueled. He's not enraged and passionate the way she's seen him so many times before. He's letting the negativity out. He's letting his anger go.

Katara walks up, slowly and quietly as not to startle him, but he stops his ministrations anyway.

"I thought you were asleep," Zuko says over his shoulder. Katara shrugs and walks until she's standing beside him.

"You need to rest, Zuko," she says. She places a hand on his shoulder for a moment to comfort him, maybe for emphasis. Maybe she thinks it'll make her point stronger. "You were badly injured."

"I could've died today," he says, a reminder that Katara's comment was an understatement. He flicks his wrist up at the sky and a rush of fire follows an invisible trail that he's provided. For the first time, Katara sees firebending and doesn't feel fear.

"I'm sorry," she says, though it's for more than just the fact that he'd offered himself up as a human shield for her. She doesn't know what to say to him. It's going to be alright doesn't seem fitting. She's not even sure if it will. When the war ends she'll have a family to return to, a family that has loved her unconditionally for all of her years, while Zuko will be in a nation that once rejected him, and the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's unfair.

"When I was out there, I couldn't think," he says, breaking the silence himself. "My chest was caving in on my lungs—my heart wasn't beating fast enough. I couldn't think, I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. I thought I was going to die. And that's how I felt during Sozin's comet. That's how I felt on my most powerful day." The air is humid and carries the weight of his heavy words. It's calm. It's quiet. Katara doesn't know what to say.

Without warning, Zuko steps forward and throws another punch at the sky. Fire shoots from his knuckles. A grunt escapes his lips. The flames spiral up, gold and red and hot, before they dissipate into nothingness. When all the flames and smoke and heat are gone, Zuko drops to his knees.

Katara looks at his firebending, and now she feels pity.