icarus.

disclaimer: I don't own ATLA.

slow dive, follow me, always, endlessly.

hearts will shake

wide awake

love me til the tether breaks.

When Katara tells Aang that she has made the decision to stay in Caldera, she has not asked the Fire Lord.

Aang is laughing and talking of their travels to come, blushing deeply when he speaks of furthering their relationship and she can think of nothing else but how much she doesn't want to talk about this. She is squirming, hands twisted in the elegant silk of her robes. He mistakes her awkwardness for shy adoration.

The airbender has made another clumsy, hapless pass at the girl in blue; he has stretched up high on his toes to kiss her outside of the rooms where their friends are laughing.

She shifts her weight, then, just enough so that when she leans away, his kiss falls harmlessly upon her cheek. He is disappointed; a sigh escapes him and he stands awkwardly beside her for a moment, all wide grey eyes aching for affection and shining with unshed tears.

"I'm going to stay here in Caldera, Aang." She interrupts the tense silence with a chilly declaration of her intentions; the airbender does not know what to say.

She leaves him there, in silence, staring after the waterbender with eyes that have not seen enough summers to know that she does not love him. Her skirts shift the dust on the patio as she glides back indoors, strangely peaceful; hands clasped tightly against each other as she moves. Her knuckles are white; her nails leaving pinked-half moon divets on the backs of her palms.

The room she enters is full of laughter, her friends pink-cheeked and skinny, hair still brittle from lack of nutrition and fingers just a little too knobbly. But they laugh, all the same; weak with relief, ragged with exhaustion, just happy to be together. Sokka's chin has grown stubbly and Toph's knuckles are bruised, Suki is so wafishly slim that even the Water Tribe boy frowns a little when he feels her ribs.

Katara knows she doesn't look much better. A tormented mind has kept her awake for weeks, now; and an odd comfort has come from telling the airbender of her decision.

Distantly, she is aware of Aang snapping open his glider and fleeing. She swallows her regrets and paints a smile upon her face because there is no use in pretending she would have been happy with him.

For now, she needs to talk to Zuko.

The next time she sees the wayward, weary Fire Lord, they are sparring; it is early in the morning and neither of them can sleep past the sunrise. She can see the smudged bruises of sleeplessness under his flickering eyes, she wants to smooth the tips of her fingers in the hollows of his cheeks and somehow fix it.

There is an edge to him, today; a terseness in the pinch of his mouth. His usually calculated movements are sloppy with anger and emotion. The Waterbender holds her hands up in the middle of the spar, palms out, signaling for a pause. The Fire Lord nearly trips over himself in his haste to extinguish his flamed fists, sweat sliding down his forehead, hair falling into his eyes.

in that moment her heart slams to a messy halt in her chest; has he always been this handsome?

Almost choking on the sudden wrench of emotion, Katara clears her throat tidily before moving towards the Firebender, her hands extended towards him.

"What's wrong, Zuko?" Her voice is soft; he is not expecting gentleness from her. It makes him quiver and spill with a sudden rush of feelings; makes his knees shudder and give way and suddenly she is catching him before he hits the ground.

She is fearful for a moment, scanning his body for injuries; she is gloving her hands in water and searching through him to find the source of the problem. But when she sees his hollow expression, she lowers her hands and takes him further into her embrace.

He is shaking in her arms; he is shaking viciously, and her thin, muscle-hard limbs are barely enough to hold him still. She cannot count all of the scars that fleck his pale skin, she cannot bear to see the star-shape on his chest that reminds her of his sacrifice. Hasn't he given enough of himself?

They sit on the ground for a long moment, just the sound of the breeze stirring the grass around them and the rushing of Zuko's breath surrounding them. Katara opens her mouth to repeat her question, but Zuko beats her to it; leaning his head heavily on her shoulder for a moment.

"I can't do this. I can't do this alone. Everyone- everyone is leaving me. I'm not a ruler, Katara." He chokes a little on the tears rising in his throat; salt mingling with bile, fear clenching low in his chest. Katara says nothing at first, only smooths the hair from his eyes and hums softly under her breath to calm him.

He is only a child, after all; and moving from banishment to the monarchy cannot be easy for his mind to wrap around.

"We're all here to help and guide you, Zuko. You're not alone in this fight." Katara fidgets slightly, moving her weight so that her legs aren't cramped. Shaking his head, he disagrees; she can feel the sorrow in the curl of his arms and the way his knees press to his chest. It is troubling for her to see the strong-willed firebender so vulnerable, so broken; but it is not the first time. And it will not be the last. So she tucks in his ragged edges as best she can, slim, tanned fingers skimming waxy, scarred flesh; she traces circles on his shoulders and tries to comfort him.

"Mai will be here, won't she?" She tests, and when a barking laugh bursts from his lungs, chafed raw with hatefulness, her eyebrows rise in surprise.

"She can't even look at me without resentment. I think she's going back to her family by the end of the week." The pale boy in her arms shifts, his jaw clenched.

"Resentment?" Katara echoes distantly, focused on the circles she is tracing on his back. Zuko expels a heavy sigh from his tired lungs.

"Azula had her imprisoned for helping me and your brother escape the Boiling Rock. I think she helped us with good intentions, honestly; but the time she spent there wasn't... pleasant." He lifted his head for a moment to rub his eyes coarsely, jaw working; Katara swore she saw a single tear slip down his cheek before he swiped it away.

She doesn't ask again. She knows better.

"I'll be here, Zuko." She whispers; so softly that he almost doesn't catch it.

"What did you say?"

"I'll be staying in Caldera." Katara spoke firmly this time, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Zuko launches himself from her arms at the sound of her words, eyebrows pinched together, forehead furrowed; he is confused and excited all at once, still trembling.

"You want to stay?" He chokes a little on the words, the sentence cracking slightly down the center as he readjusts, ears flaming red. He scrubs a hand through his hair awkwardly and glances away from her before speaking again. She nearly laughs at the Fire Lord's gentle childishness.

"I mean, of course you can stay with me, Katara." He coughs into his fist, and she lets a smile curve her mouth as they help each other to their feet; somewhere along their scuffle to stand, they grasp each other's hands.

Moments later, when they pause before re-entering the palace, they glance down at their joined fingers before letting go and walking through the doors together.

"How long do you want to stay?" Zuko is picking at the strands of hair too short to be pinned into his topknot; they are standing in her temporary suite of rooms and she is frowning at all of the god-forsaken red on the walls.

"I hadn't planned anything, really." She squirms a little under his golden-eyed scrutiny, and he chuckles softly.

"I just want to know if I should ask Uncle to find you a few blue tapestries for the walls or not. You know how he is; once he starts a shopping trip, he'll find every blue item in the market for you." The Fire Lord's voice is quiet and rasping and she cannot help the fluttering bird that is caged in her chest.

She knows the unspoken words that hang between them are what about Aang and what about your tribe and your future and-

"I was thinking of staying for a while, if that's alright." The waterbender murmurs, and unthinkingly, Zuko reaches for the girl's hand; his brow is pinched with concern, and he wonders if everything is alright.

"You know it won't be easy being here." Zuko whispers, and she manages a sloppy, inelegant shrug in response. when had things every been easy for them?

"I figure that I can help you... mend things." Fingers picking at the hems of her sleeve, she catches his wayward gaze with her own; when did they start to feel this strange uneasiness between them?

"I welcome your help, of course, Katara. But you have to know that this will be difficult. I've already had death threats; I'm sure you'll get some, too." Zuko's voice is soft with concern, the ruined side of his face inclined towards her; she can see the lines puckering around his eyes with stress.

"I know, Zuko. I'll take the risks. I want to help." She smiles at him, pressing reassurance into her mouth and letting her head bump into his shoulder affectionately.

She doesn't miss that his hand wanders to the fresh scar on his chest; doesn't miss the ache that surfaces deep in her own chest in sudden regret.

he has already given so much of himself for her-

But secretly, her heart thrills at the possibility of risks; her pulse quickens at the thought of a challenge. She has never wanted to be passive, she has never wanted to be a homely housewife. She was raised in the heat of war, and she feels she is meant to carry the warrior inside of her forever.

Sokka watches his sister talk with a strange, pained expression; he does not understand why she doesn't want to come home, why she doesn't want to hold the Avatar in her arms and allow herself to have a future with him.

"I'm not sure why you want to stay here." His voice is dismissive, cold, even, and she flinches a little. He is hurt by her news. She understands.

"Zuko wants me to act as an Ambassador between our Nations, Sokka. It would be dishonorable to refuse him. And I could really do some good-"

"You'd be able to do some good at home, too, Katara. Where you belong. With your people." He snaps shortly, and she can see how tightly the boy is wound; all tense, shivering muscles, fear burrowed deep in his wide blue eyes.

He longs for normalcy, for family; he longs to be home again and to marry the girl he loves. He wants to settle into his role of training to become Chief, to help prepare the village for the winter months ahead.

She knows what he wants.

"Sokka, I have to do this," She whispers, thin words spiderwebbing from chapped, cracking lips. "I have to."

"La, Katara, it's dangerous. Do you know how many people here hate us? Want us dead, even?" Sokka hisses through clenched teeth, and the girl feels her shoulders curve inward and her fingers dig into the soft underbellies of her palms because she is wondering where her playful, silly brother has gone; she is wondering how they all grew up so quickly.

He has hollows under his eyes and fear in the lines of his face; these things were not there before, his frown is so severe that it threatens to tear at the edges.

All she wants is one more joke about his rumbling stomach; one more complaint about Aang's meat aversion.

"I don't expect you to understand, Sokka, but someone needs to stay and help fix things." Defensive, the girl juts her chin out stubbornly and crosses her arms tight against her chest. Her brother sighs. He recognizes the determined slant of her mouth and the fierce look she's giving him.

He knows she won't return home with him.

"I really hope you know what you're doing, Katara." Shrugging, he turns away from her, drained of any energy he might have had to argue.

"You know I never turn my back on anyone that needs me. And Zuko needs me right now."

"But what about Aang? And the tribe? We need you, too." Sokka's voice is tired, now, and she can see the confusion and rejection in his eyes.

"I can't just go home yet, Sokka. I'm not the same person I used to be. I don't think I can ever be that person again." She murmurs, hands twined in the cotton of her ice-dyed training robes.

Sokka sighs again, because he knows this. He knows her soul is aching for more, to do more, to help more; to be more.

"I guess Aang is a little young for you." He shrugs, teasing about as much as he is able to, and Katara laughs a little, shoving him.

"You think?"

They exchange a thin smile at the ghost of sibling banter that bubbles between them.

Sokka still slings his arm around her shoulders protectively before he leaves and asks her to visit as soon as she is able.

She curves her mouth in a smile but remains silent, because she cannot make promises she can't keep.

It is difficult, at first, for her to adapt to the ways of the Fire Nation, a challenge to keep her sharp tongue in check. She has traded her blue cotton robes for silvery-light silk that Iroh procured for her; she wears her hair down, now, the braid long forgotten.

Most of the nobles respect her. Some want her dead.

Luckily, she has a penchant for staying alive; she can feel the weight of poison in liquids and has more times than she can count bent the entirety of Zuko's cup out of his goblet and into the fireplace, watching the darkness of the death it brought fade away.

She doesn't sleep much anymore, either; there have been more than a few assassins that have graced her window late at night. Zuko notices the bruised smudges under her eyes but does not comment; he has ones to match.

He never says it out loud, but he is grateful for her; grateful for the blood bending, the ice daggers, the fight that burns in her still. He knows he would be nothing but an empty, hollow shell without the late-night talks by candlelight when they are both struggling with nightmares that rattle their lungs with screams.

Somehow he knows that without each other, they would both be dead.

They do most things together, now; moving in synchronization, as if they are still fighting in the war together, back to back.

They bend their heads over paperwork and drafts of new laws; they go over lists of council members and scratch out those loyal to his father. They pick through the members of his guards. They weed out those that they can; and then they shut down the weapons factories, converting them instead into makeshift hospitals, homes, and glass-walled gardens.

She makes a point to visit the lower-class communities, bringing her healing wherever she goes, opening clinics; teaching nurses to be gentle and what herbs work best for what diseases. She enjoys the work, flushing with a smile when she leaves for the day in her old, threadbare robes that are beginning to be too small for her.

The first hospital they open with paid positions is a huge success; Katara herself has seen to the training of the employees.

Her insight has proved vital and important. The Fire Lord finds that her discussions in council meetings are articulate and clear, and many of his advisors respect her. Zuko watches her intelligence and creativity blossom into confidence and maturity, watches her speak eloquently at meetings, at events, engaging the common people in the streets with joy and decency-

He also finds that she is growing more beautiful by the day. Her tired thinness has finally given way to a bright, curving woman, nearing sixteen, hair long and curling and eyes glittering. The sunlight of the Fire Nation has been good for her almond skin; it has a rich, sun-kissed deepness to it now, and there are strands of amber in her hair that catch the light when she turns her head.

Somewhere along the way, they have begun an easy companionship together; Katara finds that more often than not, their hands are entwined when they are alone. She realizes that his hair is reaching his shoulders, sleek, framing his sharpening jaw regally; somehow, he is taller, and his spine is straightening with confidence, shoulders broad with strength.

Sometimes, if he catches her unawares, she feels a little dizzy looking at him; he has always been handsome, but now his presence is mildly overwhelming.

When they host public dinners with the nobility and the traditionalists, Zuko has started seating Katara at his side. They sneak hidden grins at each other and whisper jokes back and forth when the noblemen, stuffy in their high-necked robes, aren't looking. But she always manages to charm them anyways, with her wide, honest smile and flattering banter.

Zuko misses her presence when she does not accompany him places. He tells her he thinks she was born to be a leader, and she blushes at the praise; neither of them miss the slight insinuation in his words that he can't do this without her and he can't imagine her leaving.

When a ball is thrown in honor of the Avatar and his companions nearly a year after the end of the war, the group of ragtag friends reunite; to Katara's delight, Aang bears no ill will towards her. If anything, he is cheerier than ever, eager to show off his airbending tricks to the nobles and to entertain the children present. She does not miss that Toph arrives with him- and leaves with him.

Sokka arrives, as well, with Suki on his arm. Suki is warm and friendly and a welcome sight for the waterbender; they gossip at length, Suki's wise eyes flicking between the waterbender and the Fire Lord intermittently, a knowing smirk growing on her mouth.

It is as if they are performing a complicated and practiced dance, the two benders; Zuko moves through his guests carefully, making a point to speak to everyone with a warmth and confidence he had not possessed before. When he forgets a name or face, it is Katara he inclines his head towards gently, who touches his elbow and murmurs a name into his ear; discreet and effortless.

She, too, moves about the room, mirroring his motions as she greets the guests that have come for her.

All of the old friends stare at her in shock as Zuko gestures for the waterbender to join him on the royal dais seated immediately next to him, Iroh flanking his other side. Suddenly, they all realize in tandem that while her robes are a lovely ice-blue, they are fashioned in the Fire Nation style; high neck, trailing sleeves, her hair pinned up.

Zuko gives an eloquent speech that thanks everyone for attending, especially the most honoured guest, Avatar Aang. He pauses for a moment, inclining his head respectfully to the bald monk before gesturing to Katara.

"In the time that Master Katara, Ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe, has been our guest, we have gotten much accomplished. I'm pleased to say that our economy is flourishing after the closing of our weapons factories; we have adopted new aqueducts throughout the Nation to assist with the growing of our food." The slightest of smiles crook the corner of his mouth upward.

"Thanks to her assistance, we will begin to undo centuries of hate to become the great Nation that we always were meant to be; alongside our friends and neighbors. Let it be a symbol of how Nations can collaborate to help each other in these troubling times; let it be a lesson to all."

Zuko's words echo throughout the hall for a moment, a silence following his last sentence. But before long, everyone present erupts in applause; Katara flushes at the praise, and nobody notices how he tucks his hand into hers.

Nobody except Sokka, who keeps the information to himself; he watches his sister with hawk-eyes and prays to La that she knows what she is doing. He tells her how proud he is, how proud their father is; but he also frowns at her and says he wishes she would come home.

She is happy to see her friends, happy to hear their laughter; she hasn't realized how much she's missed them. The waterbender dances with each of them; with all of them at once, even, telling jokes and sharing memories and drinking a little too much firewhisky.

Zuko is happy, too; pleased that she is having a good time and feeling so warm inside every time she smiles.

At the end of the night, almost all of the guests have left for home; feet aching, bellies full, ready to retire for the evening. The band has continued to play music throughout the evening, and they haven't stopped yet; the servants are collecting plates and tidying as the last of the guests filter out.

It is Zuko and Katara that linger in the quiet stillness of the evening. There is no one but the flickering of the fireflies watching the Fire Lord extend his hand to her and bow neatly at the waist before asking for a dance, no one but the servants to see the kiss he presses to her knuckles. She flushes prettily in the moonlight as the candles around them begin to flicker out, and they are wrapped in each other as the music sings through the night, a slow, intimate dance of souls.

The next time Sokka is in the Fire Nation, it is nearly a month later; and it is because his sister has been attacked. Aang flies him and Hakoda there himself on Appa, and the whole gang is present; faces devoid of any emotion but an ever-present, heart pounding fear. They make it to the Fire Nation within days of the attack.

The day they land, it has been exactly one year since the end of the great war.

They file into the palace, tired and bedraggled; a deadly silence has fallen over the halls, and even the servants are whispering as they lead the guests to their rooms. Each of them pats Sokka comfortingly on the shoulder as they decide to leave him to his sister; even Hakoda, who decides, in that moment, that Sokka needs to confront this crisis even more than he does.

When her brother rushes to Katara's suite of rooms, his heart slamming messily against his ribcage, he finds her white-faced and listless against her pillows. Zuko, hair tousled, wearing burnt, torn, mangled robes, is nearly asleep in the chair next to her bed.

He doesn't look as if he has bathed or slept in days.

When Sokka slams the door behind him, the Fire Lord jolts awake; nearly falling out of his chair.

"What happened, Fire Lord?" The water-warrior boy snaps, and Zuko rubs his face with both hands, sighing heavily.

"Nice to see you too, Sokka," He mumbles, leaning over and peering anxiously at Katara for a moment before sitting back down with another heavy sigh that rattles his entire body.

"We were ambushed in public. It surprised us all; even her. And she's never caught unawares. One of the attacker's knives caught on her arm, she dropped to the ground almost instantly-" He struggles to keep himself composed, here, his throat suddenly thick.

"-and she's been in a feverish sleep since. She can't heal herself. She can't do anything." Sokka notices how exhausted the ruler looks, a fairly fresh bruise blossoming across his cheek, eyes hooded and haunted with anger.

"The attacker?" Sokka asks, one eyebrow quirked. Zuko's eyes slant towards the Water Tribe boy, his mouth a terse, hateful slash. Sokka notices that the firebender's sleeves are rolled to the elbows and there are splatters of dried, dark crimson on the pale skin.

His Dao swords rest by his feet, equally as stained.

he left none of the attackers alive; he can remember their bodies, burnt, mangled, torn to shreds-

"Dead," He rasps, jaw clenching minutely.

he can still smell the blood, the burnt flesh-

"I should have left them alive, for questioning, of course, but-"

but they shouldn't have touched the girl he loved.

"Good. I'm glad. They deserved to die." Sokka mutters bitterly, interrupting the Fire Lord.

Zuko straightens, suddenly, sucking in a long, low breath through his teeth. Sokka watches as the other teenager smooths a cool expression across his face and rolls his shoulders back in an effort to conceal the pain curving his spine. He recognizes the deadly chill of the Fire Lord's eyes, the strain in his shoulders; he can see the bright, vicious hate that burns just behind the illusion of calm.

"We need to get a healer from the Water Tribes to see her. She can't make the journey herself, being this weak, but there's nothing that seems to break the fever. It's definitely poison, and it's in her blood, but I'm not sure how fast it's working." Zuko rises, kicking aside the swords on the ground and beginning to pace.

"Good thing I sent for one from the Northern Pole, then." Sokka can't help the snarky tone that invades his words, can't help but feel a little furious at the other boy.

"You probably think this is my fault, don't you?" Zuko asks, pointedly, twin yellow cat-eyes focused on Sokka's reaction. When the water-warrior fumbles for words, the Fire Lord shrugs; the weight of the world rests on his shoulders in that moment.

"I figured as much. When will your healer be here?" Zuko tucks the sheets around the girl with hands that visibly shake, eyeing Sokka with narrowed slits; he looks as if he is fraying at the seams, and Sokka doesn't feel the least bit sorry for him.

"Tomorrow."

There is a strange, eerie silence then, and Zuko tucks his hands into his ruined robes and seems to notice the blood on his arms for the first time, looking mildly ill.

"You know she loves you, right?" Sokka blurts, unable to maintain the awkward quiet between them. Zuko swallows noisily, the tips of his ears turning red, stiffening considerably.

"She wouldn't be here if she didn't. I know she wants to save the world and everything, but she's risking her life for you. She loves you."

"And you don't approve, do you?" Zuko's voice is hollow and haunted and weary, as if he has aged in these moments past any hope of youthfulness. Sokka pauses.

"I think she's in a lot of danger here. Here, it's like she's flying into the sun; about to catch on fire at any moment."

"You don't think I can protect her."

"Clearly, you can't," Sokka snaps, hand flying to his boomerang; surging with an anger that Zuko flinches subtly at, he has never seen the warrior-boy so furious. Unexpectedly, the firebender does nothing; merely bows his head to the wrath of his friend.

"She's my baby sister, and we've looked after each other since our mom died. If you can't handle keeping her safe, you don't deserve her." The words acerbic, Sokka turns on his heel to leave.

At that moment, the doors rattle and gust open with a sudden burst of air. Aang stands beyond them, brow creased with frustration at what he had just heard. He glances between the two older men, mouth curved downward in disappointment.

"Arguing does nothing to help this situation," Aang folds his hands together serenely, frowning. Sokka colors slightly at the statement.

"Sokka, Zuko's done everything he can do to help Katara. I wouldn't have been able to protect her anymore than Zuko has. The attackers sprung on them out of nowhere, they were surprised, and nobody was expecting a poisoned blade." Aang reasons, and Sokka crosses his arms tight over his chest but frowns unrelentingly.

"And don't forget, he already almost died for Katara. He fought his own sister, Sokka." Aang says reverently, under his breath in an attempt to be secretive- but the Fire Lord still hears him. His hand wanders to the star-shaped scar on his upper abdomen and for a moment, he can feel the air crackle around him.

"Eavesdropping as always." Sokka muttered, face pink with shame, shoving past the airbender to leave the room.

As the door slams shut behind the furious water-warrior, Aang puts his hand reassuringly on Zuko's shoulder.

"He'll come around, Zuko. I know he really respects you. Sokka just took this hard... Katara's been all he's had his whole life." Aang says quietly, and the Fire Lord manages a ghost of a smile at the wisdom the boy beside him has within him.

"Thanks, Aang."

"Yeah, of course, Hotman!" He grins, and the tips of Zuko's ears go red again; he scowls deeply. He suddenly regrets thinking that the younger boy had any wisdom.

"You know, it's about time you retire that."

"Okay, okay. I'll call you Fire Lord Hotman instead." Aang laughs, bowing a little in obvious mockery; Zuko rolls his eyes and shakes his head, huffing.

"In all seriousness, I'm really glad you and Katara are together. I was upset at first that she didn't want to be with me, but I understood over time that we just weren't a good match. You guys mesh really well." Smiling encouragingly, the bald monk moves from the Fire Lord to the bedside of the waterbender, perching on the edge and gathering her hands in his.

"It's a shame I never had a knack for healing. I'd fix her right up." He muses, his expression falling. Zuko smiles dimly, shrugging; he is thoughtful for a moment, continuing his pacing.

"You know, we're not actually together together. Not yet. I hadn't asked her." Zuko murmurs softly, scrubbing his hand through his hair awkwardly, his cheeks pinking. Aang looks up, shocked, storm-grey eyes wide.

"We were all so positive you had already! She sat next to you at the gala and everything-"

"A formality for the sake of appearing unified. She chose to do that, actually," Zuko shrugs again, shoulders rising and falling mournfully.

"I was going to ask her if she wanted to...uh... be with me... a few days after the attack. I had everything planned. But that didn't exactly work out." Turning away to face the window, his face flashes with agony; his teeth grinding slightly, screwing his eyes shut against the relentless images of her body crumpling to the ground.

"You'll get your chance, I promise." Aang's voice is soft, and Zuko scoffs at first (typical); but the quiet assurance in the monk's voice almost makes him believe that it's true.

Nearly two weeks pass before Katara wakes from her fever-sleep. The healer works day and night with the girl, easing the poison from her veins, lifting the fever from her brow. The day that the fever finally breaks, everyone celebrates with weary, hollow eyes.

She is groggy and slurring her words between dreams; the healer promises everyone that she can begin to start healing herself from this point, that she is growing stronger by the day. Zuko has only left her side to bathe and change his robes, otherwise, he has slept every night for a few sparing hours in the chair beside her bedside.

Toph sits by her and mumbles that she needs to wake up or else because Snoozles is going to eat all of the food, and his public affection for Suki is grossing everyone out, and everyone needs her-

Suki brushes Katara's hair and dutifully braids it every morning, silent; every so often she has to swipe a tear away.

The gang agrees that Zuko has to sleep, has to eat; they take shifts trying to care for the stubborn, grumpy Fire Lord. Even Sokka pushes some food towards the scarred teen, muttering under his breath about stupid firebenders and my sister should never date anyone ever.

Aang and the others commend the weary firebender gently for his attentiveness. Hakoda, especially; he pulls the Fire Lord aside and thanks him softly for everything he has done for both himself and for his only daughter. Zuko stumbles through apologies, voice thick with shame, face coloring, but the Chief only pulls the teenage ruler into a hug and claps him on the back soundly. They exchange knowing, emotive glances, and Sokka quietly steams in the corner.

Zuko is the first to see her when she wakes, early, early; before the sun has risen. He watches the bedclothes stir with motion and nearly slips from his chair with relief; his chest is tight with emotion and he chokes for a moment on the hope soaring inside of his stomach.

She is staring up at him with clear, blue eyes; darker than the depths of the ocean.

He is frozen for a moment, staring, for a moment considering that perhaps he is dreaming.

"How long?" Katara murmurs, spidersilk-thin words through chapped lips. somehow she knew she had been gone for some time, somehow she could feel the distance- she could see the sorrow in the pools of exhaustion beneath his eyes, the hollows of his cheeks-

"Two weeks." When he says the words, he hardly recognizes his own voice; strained, as if he is barely allowing himself to hope even now.

She reaches for him almost immediately, eyes bubbling over with cold, blue-fire tears; she is grasping at his hands with what meager strength she possesses, whispering his name over and over again, her voice crackling with disuse.

He cannot bear the distance between them and suddenly he is beside her and they are holding each other, eyes wet with tears and clutching at each other's hands feverishly. He cannot stand how brittle-thin she has become, how her hands shake; he remembers this horrible weariness from the war.

"I'm so sorry, Katara, I should have been quicker-"

"-I should have dodged the blade-"

"-I'm so sorry-"

They are apologizing in a flurry of words too quick for understanding, muddled by sorrow and relief.

Katara curls into the Fire Lord's chest and cries. She is chastising herself for not being faster, for not healing herself, for leaving him for so long, for worrying everyone. He bites down on his lower lip- his teeth catch and he can taste the blood- and mutters furiously into her hair that no matter what, she should never, ever blame herself.

As the first rays of light peek over the horizon, she has quieted in his arms; her breathing is steady, and he has to keep glancing down at her to make sure that she's still awake. Selfishly, he wants to keep her all to himself until the sun rises. He wants to tell her of his heart, but he remains silent. It is not the time, he reminds himself, she is not yet herself.

He wants terribly to kiss her but he doesn't; so he presses his mouth to her forehead lengthily before murmuring that he is going to fetch her friends and her family. It takes all of his carefully established control to slip from the bed and let his fingers pass through hers; her eyes are deep, dark pools of sadness as she releases him.

He is both a little ashamed and a little afraid of the wanting that burns inside of him and he thinks it is an ugly, selfish thing, his desire.

Unsurprisingly, Aang is the first in the room when Zuko tells them she has woken; he bursts in with gale-force winds, leaping up by her side like an excited badger-mole and wrapping both spindly arms about her.

Toph comes next, with Suki following closely behind. One by one, they pile onto her bed, embracing her; each of them laughing and crying all at once until they can't distinguish the emotions. Hakoda leans against the wall beside Zuko as they observe the squirming mass of limbs, a chuckle rumbling low in his chest.

Sokka is the last to straggle through the door, bleary eyed, rubbing at his face and yawning widely. Katara wriggles her way from the tight grip of her friends to reach for her brother, and when they embrace, the silence pulls taut and thin around everyone.

A low, keening sob yanks from the Water Tribe boy, and he is muttering apologies under his breath- nobody can quite distinguish what for- and then the others fold him into the group-hug.

Somewhere along the way, Iroh has also entered the room; and he joins Hakoda and Zuko against the back wall. The three of them sip at the tea that he has brought in on a tray, quiet relief seeping through each of them.

It is a few days before she is well enough to stand on her own; and even so, she leans heavily on Zuko's arm as he guides her through the gardens to feed the turtle-ducks in the warmth of late afternoon.

He hates how frail her grip feels, how he can watch the bones in her wrist clicking uncomfortably underneath her flesh; for the first time in their relationship, she is almost completely dependent, so he accompanies her most places. Iroh is the only other person he trusts enough to walk with her; Sokka has let her fall, before (on accident, of course), and Aang is too easily distracted for Katara's quiet, lengthy walks around the palace gardens.

Every few minutes, he encourages her to find a place to sit and rest. Most times she argues with him; now, she sighs resignedly and lets herself pool onto a bench by the turtle-duck pond. He can feel the weariness in her every movement, so he lets his arm fall gently about her shoulders so she can lean just the slightest bit against him.

"Did you miss me, Zuko?" The words are a mere breath, catching on her chapped lips before the wind snatches them away. He almost laughs at the question.

"Very much," The Fire Lord murmurs, tilting his head so that his mouth presses to the smoothness of her hair. A shudder sends goosebumps down both of her arms; he does not miss this subtle movement, doesn't miss how her lips curve in the slightest of satisfied smiles.

"I don't think I can do this alone, Katara. I don't think I can do it without you." His voice is soft; he tries to hide the slight cracking of his voice, tries to hide the vulnerability, the pain that invades his tone.

She curves subtly into his chest, letting her mouth skim the porcelain skin of his throat; his arm falls to her waist and tightens there.

"I've done a lot of thinking on these walks of ours." She quips, folding her fingers into his. A simple motion; they've held hands a hundred times before. But this time feels different; separate, somehow, from all the rest.

"Oh?"

The water tribe girl's lips thin for a moment as she thinks silently, the breeze shifting her hair.

"Sokka wants me to come home." Her tone is short. Zuko's spine stiffens at the words. "He thinks it's time that I help him with returning our homeland to its former glory." He can hear the boy's anxiousness for his sister's return in the phrasing, can feel the chill of the southern waters in the way her mouth turns downward as she speaks.

"And do you want to go home?" Carefully neutral, the Fire Lord keeps his voice as even as he can manage. Katara reaches up to push stray strands of hair out of her eyes before answering.

"I want to see my family, yes," She pauses here, swallowing.

"-but I don't think I could ever leave you alone again, Zuko." Turning in his arms, her blue eyes are clearer than the skies above them. He tries not to hope too much, but he can't cage the fluttering bird in his chest.

She reaches up, tentative fingers moving gently against his cheek, and he bows his head to meet her. They rest that way for a long moment, forehead to forehead, and she whispers his name.

"Zuko, I don't ever want to go anywhere without you."

Noses bumping so slightly, mouths curving with smiles, they kiss softly in the dusky glow of the approaching sunset.

"You'll never have to." He answers the unspoken question hanging between them, and their hands twine tightly together, knuckles white; somehow, this was always how things were meant to be.

When the ship leaves for the Southern Water Tribe a few days later, both Zuko and Katara stand at the bow; they face the cresting waves with the sun warming their faces.

Sokka gripes quietly to himself about how he didn't mean for her to take her boyfriend home and sisters are the worst but even with his arms crossed tightly against his chest, his eyes soften when he looks at them.

-nightfall26