Epilogue

The catacombs of Ba Sing Se would have been beautiful if they weren't acting as her prison. Crystals glittered like clusters of green stars from the walls and ground, bathing the room in a soft glow. Not far from her, Zuko sat hunched on the ground, staring at his hands. He had barely spoken a word since she had woken up to find them both trapped in the cave. Seeing Azula again must have really bothered him.

She sighed and hugged her knees to chest. "I wonder how long they plan on keeping us down here."

Zuko remained silent. He didn't even move, as if he hadn't heard her speak at all. She frowned and picked up a loose pebble, rolling it between her fingers. So much for trying to start a conversation.

Seconds passed, filling the catacombs with a silence that was as heavy as the weight of the ancient stone that trapped them. Katara exhaled a breath, watching her fringe flutter with the gust of air. It made her wonder what Aang was doing at the Eastern Air Temple. All of her friends had gone separate ways: Toph to visit her parents, Sokka to meet up with their dad, and Aang to train with whoever had tied that note to Appa. No one knew she was locked up in this cavern with Zuko. Only Momo, and she had no idea what had happened to the lemur.

"I should have seen this coming," Zuko muttered, more to himself.

"Hmm?"

"Azula," he clarified. "I was stupid to think that she wouldn't find me eventually." His voice took on a bitter tone. "She always gets her way. Always."

Katara bit her lip. "I'm sure there's a way we can still get out of here. Don't worry, Zuko, it'll all work out."

"Don't you get it?" he exclaimed, slamming his fist on the ground. "It doesn't matter anymore! There's nowhere to go, nowhere to run! Azula will always find me!" He hung his head, black locks veiling his face. "My father will always find me."

Katara dug her fingers into her tunic, her heart pounding with an inexplicable fear. "What are you saying?"

"I can't do this anymore," Zuko admitted in a hollow voice. "I thought I could change. I thought I could make my own destiny, but I will never be free of any of it—" his hand covered the scarred side of his face "—just like I will never be free of my mark."

She shuffled closer to him, placing her hand on his arm. "Hey, listen to me. You have changed. You've changed so much that I hardly recognise you as that angry jerk who attacked my village all those months ago."

A reluctant smile curved his lips. Katara took encouragement at the sight and moved her hand to cup his fire-ravaged cheek, turning his face towards her.

"You say it doesn't matter anymore if you escape," she continued, meeting his eyes, "but there is still hope, Zuko. We will get out of this cave and make things right, so please don't give up."

He averted his face, slipping free of her touch. "That's where you and I differ. You can see a life for yourself outside this cave, but I don't even know what I'm doing anymore." He hugged his knees to his chest, clenching his hands into fists. "I dedicated three years of my life to hunting the Avatar because I was told to. I loved my father, and I wanted to make him proud of me so that he wouldn't see me as worthless. Then one day I realised that the thought of capturing the Avatar made me sick. Every time I imagined turning that stupid, bald kid over to my father, I thought of the way he'd looked in Pohuai Stronghold: chained and terrified, like he knew he was facing a monster he couldn't escape. I thought of all those people I'd seen in the Earth Kingdom, burned and wounded because of my nation." His eyes found hers, and he reached out to run his thumb along her cheek, just brushing her lips. "I thought of you, and how you would never, ever forgive me if I surrendered your friend to a lifetime of captivity and suffering."

Katara inhaled a shaky breath. They were so close now she could see the different shades of gold that made up his irises, feel the heat of him intermingling with the warmth of her own body. For a charged moment they just stared at each other, and then he sighed and broke away.

"So I left it all. My dreams of going home, my desire to make my father proud. I gave it all up, along with my title as the Prince of the Fire Nation. I simply became Lee, a humble tea server of Ba Sing Se." He clenched his hands into fists. "But in the end nothing has changed. My past has caught up to me, just like I feared it would, and now I'm right back to where I started, trapped on all sides with only one way out." He gave a tired laugh. "I guess this is what my father meant when he told me that I would learn respect—that suffering would be my teacher. Because no matter how much I have tried to do what I know is right, I'm still just that scared, thirteen-year-old boy begging on my knees for mercy."

She extended her hand. "Zuko—"

His eyes met hers, and she could see the vulnerability, the pain. "There is no happy future for me outside these walls, Katara," he said frankly. "I'm just a banished prince with no home and nowhere to go. Nothing can change that."

Katara felt something hot sting the corner of her eyes. Slowly, she let her hand drop back to her lap. "So you're just going to give up," she said in a voice that trembled with emotion. "After everything we've been through, you're just going to stop trying."

Zuko looked down at his hands. "My father branded me with fire so that I wouldn't forget what happens to those who go against him. It was a reminder of the power he wields and the path he had chosen for me." He shook his head. "I've been such a fool. I thought I could escape my destiny: the banished prince, cursed to chase the Avatar forever. Now I see I was wrong. Like my mark, I can't erase my past, nor can I escape who I am."

"But you have changed!" she argued, gripping his wrists, even as tears threatened to fall from her lashes. "Look how far you've come!"

He just stared at her with those sad, golden eyes, and for a moment he looked so tired, so shattered. "Can't you see, Katara? My father is always going to control me. He's marked me with a curse I can't escape, because the only way to stop following his orders is to fight him, and I—" he hung his head in shame "—I don't know if I can."

Because I'm still his son. Because some scars run too deep.

The unspoken words lingered between them, making her heart ache for this boy who had been so hurt and abused, even though all he had ever wanted to do was the right thing. He had no idea of the strength he could wield; the strength she had seen him show in those moments where he had struggled free of the shackles his father had created. As the Blue Spirit, Zuko had been able to do whatever and be whoever he wanted. He had proven himself to be a true hero in her eyes, full of determination and courage. Now there was no mask to hide behind. Now, he was just Zuko: scarred, banished, and broken, and she could see that he was losing hope.

He was losing all faith in himself.

But Katara knew better. Because she could see that the heart that drummed inside his chest was the same as that of the masked warrior who had been her silent companion; that the hands that had cupped her cheeks as he kissed her were the same as those that had wielded dual dao swords to save her life. Zuko was the Blue Spirit, and in that she knew he was wrong to think there was no hope. She just had to make him view himself the way she did: as someone strong and beautiful; someone who was capable of great courage despite his vulnerability.

"Maybe you could be free of it," she said, shifting onto her knees and looking at him earnestly.

A crease formed on his brow. "What are you talking about?"

"Your mark. Maybe you can be free of it. I have healing powers—you've seen me use them before."

Zuko shook his head. "It's a scar. It can't be healed."

"You don't know that." She leaned closer, pulling the blue bottle out from inside her tunic. "This is water from the Spirit Oasis at the North Pole. It has special healing properties." She gripped his hand. "I—I think it might be able to heal you."

Zuko's fingers trembled within her hold. "Katara, you can't possibly want to waste this on me. You don't even know if it will work."

"It doesn't matter," she said, shaking her head. "You think that you've been cursed because of the mark your father has given you; that you will never be free to live the life you want. Well, I'm going to show you that you're wrong." She smiled through her tears, gripping his hand tight. "I'm going to heal you, Zuko."

His gaze sought hers, and she could see the fragile hope blossoming within him like the pale shades of dawn. For a moment they just stared at each other, hands still clasped while her free hand clutched the vial of Spirit Water. One breath, two breaths; the seconds passed and then Zuko bowed his head and closed his eyes. It was a quiet act of surrender, and her heart thumped against her ribs as she reached out to touch his scar, letting her fingers caress the warped, ruined flesh.

So much pain. So much hurt. She didn't know if she could heal it—this scar that went beyond flesh and bone to the battered, lost soul within. She just knew that she had to try, if not for her own peace of mind then at least for Zuko. She would not let him give up on himself.

Sucking in a deep breath, she uncorked the bottle hanging around her neck and let the Spirit Water surround her hand where it shone with a blue, mystic light. He flinched slightly as she placed her palm against his scar, but she murmured for him to relax and closed her eyes, focussing only on the power of her bending.

Heal, she whispered in her heart, feeling the water connect with the scarred tissue and damaged nerves. Become whole again.

Nothing happened. Her mouth went dry with panic and she opened her eyes. Zuko stiffened a fraction and she saw the eyelashes on his right eye flutter against his cheek, as if he were fighting to stay calm. That was when she felt the overwhelming rush of response from the twisted path that joined with his scar, like a floodgate being released. Energy flowed through her in a dizzying surge, more powerful than she had ever experienced. It was as if she were cradling a gnarled, beating heart in her hand; there was so much life, so much pain. She didn't know where to begin, but her instincts showed her how to smooth out the contorted roots; how to mend the fractured ties of his nerves and command scarred tissue to envelop itself in a new skin—one that was smooth and pale and without blemish. It was a slow and draining process, for the scar was years old and had buried itself deep into his core of identity, but she knew that she could not turn back now. She had to keep going.

Zuko trembled slightly as the healing water spread further under her guidance, working its way into his damaged eye to unseal the half-closed lids and encourage dark lashes to grow from newly formed skin. It was a strange sensation, for the healing light of the Spirit Oasis water blinded her to most of the transformation taking place, but she could still feel it as if it were her own face being healed; feel the tiny hairs breaking forth like spring buds to arch and curve above his left eye, painting a dark strip that was identical to the one on his right; feel the way his ear slowly uncurled from its crumpled state and knitted together new flesh, so that it was a perfect mirror of its counterpart. She could feel everything, and it was with a shaky breath that she let the last of the Spirit Oasis water absorb into his skin. His pale, perfect skin.

Katara stepped back, dropping her hand to her side. "It's done," she said with a tired smile.

Zuko didn't move at first, but then slowly, tentatively, he reached up to touch his face. A shudder went through him the moment his fingertips made contact with his cheek, and then he was touching what should have been the disfigured outline of his left eye, his eyebrow, his ear. A choked little sound escaped his lips and he turned away from her, his whole body trembling.

"Hey," she said in alarm, taking a step forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

The dark veil of his hair shifted as he looked at her, but this time there was no crimson slash to skew his features—no cursed mark peeping out through the strands of black. He was whole. He was more beautiful than she had thought possible.

"It's gone," he whispered, almost as if he didn't dare to believe it could be true—as if he thought that any moment this dream would be snatched from him. "It's really gone, isn't it?"

She nodded, and her heart ached for the way he touched his face again, almost in wonder, like a child discovering a new texture that was both strange and wonderful. There was such vulnerability in the small smile that curved his lips, such hope and peace. Katara felt tears spring to her eyes.

"I told you it would work," she said, clasping his hand in hers. "Maybe your father did mark you once, but whatever scars he's caused need not define who you are, nor should they determine what your future will hold." She intertwined their fingers, staring up at him through tear-filled eyes. "I believe in you, Zuko. Do you believe in yourself?"

He held her gaze for a moment, and then he pulled her into a tight embrace, clutching her close as he buried his face into her hair. She felt a sob choke her throat and wrapped her arms around him, wanting to feel his heart; to know with a surety that the beating rhythm that gave him life was one of renewed hope and not surrender.

"Thank you, Katara," he whispered.

She smiled and gripped him tighter, nestling her face against his chest. It seemed hours that they stood there like that, just holding each other. She didn't want the moment to end, but then he pulled back just enough to wipe the damp trails from her face, letting his hands cup her cheeks. She moistened her lips, stomach fluttering as she looked up into his golden eyes—those beautiful eyes that had once been the characteristic of her enemy yet now were the only colour she wanted to see. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered his face and pressed his mouth against hers, capturing her lips in a kiss so tender it made a part of her want to cry.

"I don't deserve you," Zuko murmured, resting their foreheads together. "I don't know if I'll ever deserve you, but I'm glad you followed me that day when I lost Scratch. You helped to remind me of who I am; of who I've always wanted to be."

"And I'll keep reminding you for as long as it takes," she said fiercely. "I'll follow you to the ends of the earth if I have to."

Zuko's mouth twitched into a smile. "Is that a threat?"

She linked her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to brush her lips against his. "It's a promise."

Pale gold locked with blue, and he opened his mouth to speak when part of the wall was suddenly blasted away, sending jagged bits of rock whistling past them and blinding her vision. When the dust had cleared, Aang and Iroh were standing with them in the catacombs, lit up by the unearthly green light of the crystals.

"Aang!" she cried, rushing towards the airbender and throwing her arms around his neck.

Dimly, she was aware of Iroh doing the same to Zuko, but then there was a gasp. She broke away from Aang to see the old general staring up at his nephew with wide eyes, taking in the unscarred cheek and perfectly symmetrical features.

"Zuko," Iroh said with open awe, "how—your scar, it's—"

"Gone," Aang finished for him, also staring at the prince in wonder.

Zuko shifted self-consciously and once more touched his hand to his face, as if to reassure himself that the skin had not reverted back to its twisted, ugly state. Then he just smiled at Katara.

Aang's gaze flickered to hers. "It was you, wasn't it?"

She nodded. "I used the Spirit Oasis water on his scar. I didn't know if it would work, but I had to try." Her voice softened. "I don't regret it."

Zuko gave her a swift glance, and for a moment their eyes met, whispering the unspoken words that they were both too shy to confess aloud. Friendship, trust, love. She could feel the emotions blooming between them, growing stronger with each passing moment. Then Iroh was speaking again and the connection was gone. Zuko was averting his face, and Aang was tugging on her wrist, telling her that they had to go, and it was all just happening too fast.

"No!" Katara exclaimed, digging her heels into the ground and turning back to the prince. "I made a promise that I'd always stay with Zuko." She extended her hand towards him and flashed a cheeky grin. "Even if that means I have to sometimes force him to follow me."

An answering smile curved Zuko's lips and he closed the distance between them. They both understood he was accepting more than just her hand when he intertwined their fingers. This time there would be no hiding, no running. This time he would embrace his past and future head on, not as the Blue Spirit, but as the banished prince of the Fire Nation.

And Katara would be right there beside him.

Phew! It seems like it's been forever since I completed a chaptered fic. I'd like to thank all of you who supported me while writing this fic. My updates have been sporadic and I have made you wait far longer than I ever intended for this epilogue. I'm very sorry for that, but I hope you enjoyed the story!

Oh, and if there are parts of this epilogue that seem familiar that is because I used some sections from the one-shot 'Healed' (taken from the Sun and Moon collection) to describe Zuko's healing process. I know it's kind of cheating, but I felt like it just worked. Plus, it's almost 4am and I want to get some sleep, lol.

In any case, thanks again for your support! Until next time! :)