Chapter 7: A Feeling Still Lingers

One day ago

So. Katara was soaking in a hot tub. In a Fire Nation airship. And Zuko was right outside the door.

The door that didn't have a lock.

Katara sank deeper into the water, and watched the door like an eagle-hawk.

...

Twelve hours ago

Katara was a master waterbender, and for the first time, she was joining the master class.

You'd think Master Pakku would have warned her, but nope. She'd have piled on the sea prunes had she known!

...Okay, maybe not the sea prunes. They really didn't appeal to her like they used to.

Yukon, the stoic middle-aged master, raised a wall of ground ice to block her whip. Katara had never seen a waterbender fight so much like an earthbender, and Yukon was good at it.

He cracked the ice under her feet. Again. It was a neat trick that always threw her off her stance, but put them on earthy ground, and she'd have him beat in twenty seconds flat.

But Danuv. Danuv. He was a new arrival from the north, having come just the day before. Thanks to that, Katara got a front row seat to his introductory spar with Master Pakku.

Master Pakku. Almost. Lost.

(He would have, had the match went on. At nearly seventy, Master Pakku's endurance wasn't the best. That was something they all knew. When he called the match to an early end, no one called him out on saving face. He had to preserve his strength.)

Katara struck up a conversation with Danuv, eager to learn (and a little jealous about) his techniques. She was delighted to discover that he neither a stuck-up nor a sexist traditionalist that thought women shouldn't bend. In fact, he encouraged teaching women to bend, although his reasons were more to do with self-defense.

The two of them had been talking about the implications of Katara's amnesia on her waterbending skill and muscle memory when Danuv said, "I have to ask. Does... Your husband, the Fire Lord. Does he... do anything you don't want him to?"

Katara gaped and flushed. "Ugh! You're as bad as Sokka!"

"We're concerned!" he said, lifting his hands placatingly. "He's the Fire Lord, Katara. He can do anything he wants." His brow dropped with his voice. "Does he?"

"No!" When Danuv looked at her skeptically, she insisted. "No. He doesn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! I'm fine, okay?"

Danuv averted his gaze. In an undertone that Katara probably wasn't meant to hear, he whispered, "That's what she always says."

...

Now

The silence was unbearable.

Fine, it wasn't that bad. After all, she and Zuko had slept in the same room before. They had slept in the same bed before. But that was when he was, y'know, incapacitated after being shot full of lightning?

They never used to have... This hanging between them.

They were a few feet apart in the same room they had first woken in. Unfortunately, the only extra bedroll that the family owned was the one Katara had left at Sokka's. Neither Katara's dad nor brother had come back to return it. So instead, Gran-Gran had produced an impressive pile of quilts and shawls and furs, and swaddled Katara in them.

It wasn't bad. Her makeshift cocoon was pretty toasty. It helped that she kept her parka on, unlike that first morning when they had woken up nude ahahaha nope nope nope.

Zuko, on the other hand, had taken the two-person bedroll. He had offered to let Katara have it, but there was no way Katara was setting foot in that bed. Besides, it was huge, and he was bigger.

Broader. Stronger.

Katara was going to stop thinking.

She tugged on the strings of her parka hood as if by shrinking the hole that revealed her face, she herself could shrink and escape. Briefly she considered if it was worse in Zuko's situation. He didn't remember anything about their friendship.

Yeah, but. He was the guy, so. The tension couldn't be the same for him.

Come on, Katara. You can do this. Just fall asleep. Have you met Zuko? He's the sweetest thing!

Yes. She knew that. But.

Hrnnnrhhnnghhnnhh.

Eventually, Katara stopped squeezing her eyelids shut and decided that thinking in circles wasn't resolving anything. She said quietly to the cold air, "Hey. You awake?"

There wasn't even a pause. "Yeah."

They had been here for what felt like an hour already. She bit her lip. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"..."

"...?"

"...I don't usually sleep well."

"Oh." She exhaled. "I'm not sleeping well now, either. Wanna talk?"

"Okay."

After a few seconds of waiting if he would start, she said, "So, um. Have you ever been in a relationship before?"

"...No."

"How come?"

He turned his head away. "Avatar hunting didn't exactly leave me with free time. It's not as if there were girls who wanted to stay on a Fire Navy ship."

"And... if there was a girl you liked, what would you have done?"

"Uhh. Give her flowers? Watch a play? Eat food?"

"Oooh."

"Not that I don't like you! I just. I don't understand what's going on."

She laughed lightly. "Yeah. I get it, Zuko. I'm confused, too."

"Katara, I..." He trailed off. She waited patiently for him to start again. He spoke in a smaller, more tentative voice than before. "I don't understand. Why would you... Why would you marry me?"

She frowned. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do with the person you love?"

"You... You love me?"

That wasn't what she had meant to say, but... "I love you as a friend, Zuko. And as something more... Maybe I'm starting to."

It was quiet for a moment in which Katara was drowning in embarrassment before he rasped, "You're lying."

Her eyebrows jumped to her forehead. "No! I'm telling the truth!"

"You're lying. It's not." He swallowed. "It can't be true."

"And why not?"

He rolled onto his side, facing his back to her. "No one loves me. Not even my uncle." His tone was so quiet, Katara didn't dare breath for fear of mishearing. "I'm just a replacement for his son."

"Zuko," she said softly, heart breaking. "That isn't true."

"You wouldn't think so. Your family loves you."

Okay, that was the final straw. Katara wriggled out of her makeshift cocoon, braved the cold, and padded over to his (their) bedroll. At the noise she made, he looked over his shoulder, and his eyes, gold in the lamplight, became wide. His panic increased. "Wait— Katara— What are you—"

"Calm down." She unzipped the bedroll, slipped her self inside, and zipped it back up. Zuko had retreated to the far side of the bedroll, which wasn't far at all. She shimmied and wrapped her arm around his stiff torso. In the process, she also found a leg, so she hooked her leg around that too. It took what felt like ages, but Zuko slowly relaxed. She whispered up to him, or what little she could see of his face, "If there's one thing I know about Uncle Iroh, it's that he loves you. So much. You mean the world to him."

His words rumbled his chest. "I cost him everything."

"And he gave it because he loves you. We love you, Zuko. My whole family. Well, maybe not Sokka right now, but he did when he didn't have amnesia. And there's Aang and Toph and Suki, my dad, Gran-Gran, and Master Pakku. And me. We love you, Zuko." She buried her face into his shoulder. "Please. Believe."

After a minute, what felt like an arm hesitantly moved towards her waist. Despite all that she had initiated, Katara couldn't help but tense. This did not escape Zuko's attention. He pulled away.

"Zuko?"

Their eyes were meeting now. He gave her a half smile. "You should go back to your own bed. I know you're not comfortable with me yet."

He had noticed? "Oh." Katara cleared her throat. "Um, if you're sure."

He unzipped the bedroll for her. She shimmied her way out and back to her makeshift pile of furs. He sat up as she tried to worm her way inside, but it was difficult without the extra hand of Gran-Gran.

"Do you... want any help?"

"Yeah, um. Help would be appreciated."

Together, they managed to tuck her back into some semblance of a cocoon. It was shoddy work compared to Gran-Gran's neat swaddle, and Katara was pretty sure there was at least one gap through which the cold polar air could enter. She wasn't going to complain, though. Not after all the effort.

Zuko settled back down into his bedroll. It was silent except for their breathing.

She listened absently and let her eyelids droop. In no time at all, Katara fell asleep.

...

She woke to the sound of kitchen movement.

The light of day was gleaming in the ice walls, and Katara blinked at the room and found that she was alone. Zuko's bed was empty. She felt oddly disappointed. She pulled herself out of the blankets.

After a trip to the bathroom, she followed her nose—that smelled like creamed coffee—to the common room.

Master Pakku was stirring the contents of a pot with his bending. He was also sneaking some of it straight to his mouth while he was at it. Gran-Gran was not fooled and shooed him to unfreeze the leftover stew. And, at the table was Zuko, peeling a white sweet potato with a furrow of concentration in his forehead.

He set down the current piece and looked up at her entrance. "Sleep well?" he said, smiling shyly.

Smiling.

"Y-yeah," said Katara, heart skipping a beat.

Zuko's eyes crinkled the slightest bit. "That's good. You were shivering. Later in the night. I, uh. Heated the place with... with my bending."

He was looking out for her. Warmth flooded her chest. "Thank you."

He looked so hopeful. "You're welcome."

As Katara proceeded to have a mini heart-attack, her brain processed her thoughts. If he was bending late into the night... "You didn't sleep!" she accused.

"I slept! Mostly. It wasn't that bad, the nightmares were—"

Katara marched over and hugged him around the waist.

Zuko... reciprocated.

The door opened five seconds later, revealing Sokka.

They tensed.

Sokka gave them a bleary glare. He facepalmed, keeping his hand over his eyes and waving the other hand weakly in their direction. "Keep your oogies where I can't see them."

Katara looked incredulously after Sokka. She shared the look with Zuko. Then they realized that their faces were very close, and they were still holding each other in their arms.

They sprang back.

Dad's deep belly laugh echoed as he closed the door behind him. "You look like a new couple again!"

Katara crossed her arms, facing the floor. "Dad."

"I call it like I see it." He clapped a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "Treat her well, Zuko."

Zuko's expression was cautious, if that was possible with flaming cheeks. Still, he responded, "Yes, sir, Chief Hakoda."

Her father grinned. "None of that. I'd rather you call me 'Chief Hakodad'."

Katara buried her face in her hands.

The ongoings of the kitchen continued without her. She lifted her head to see Gran-Gran coaching Zuko on how much fire the stew needed. Zuko was so focused he didn't even react to Aang coming in, who flittered between them and asked about their memories. Katara realized she now knew more about the weeks after Sozin's Coment, and they were filled with happy moments with Zuko and her friends.

As she sat at the table, for once not needing to do anything, Katara watched her newfound husband help out her family. The simplicity of the moment filled her with peace, and Katara thought, for the first time, they could work out this married thing.

...

Several hours later in the Southern Water Tribe synagogue, the Avatar opened his glowing eyes. The otherworldly blue light faded, and a shivering lemur scampered out of a stuffed panda-raccoon headpiece into the Avatar's yellow tunic.

"Uaaagh!" Aang groaned, nothing all like the mystical creature he appeared to be a moment ago. "It's no good, Momo! The spirits tell me they haven't seen the Memory Thief on this side of the world in ages! Literal ages!" He flopped onto his back. Momo patted his chin sympathetically. "Even her relatives say she doesn't like it here. I don't know what to dooooo."

He sighed a gust of wind that rustled the great indigo tapestries of the icy room's interior. The domed ceiling of the synagogue was not gilded with gold or overlaid with stones. Instead, an intricate story was woven into the ice, the tales of Water Tribe lore preserved with a temporal medium. One could pick out the creation of the seas, the First Hunt, and the princess who gave her life. At the very center of the dome was the likeness of Tui and La, so delicately formed that the koi scales seemed to ripple and glimmer with light. It was all translucence and edges, the sort of immaterial art that even the most detached and minimalist of monks would appreciate.

Unless you were Monk Whus He, thought Aang. That guy was so detached and unartistic, he even renounced the concept of a name.

Momo chittered inside Aang's tunic. Aang absently scratched his ear.

"Maybe I should talk to Guru Pathik at the Eastern Air Temple. Or Huu from the Swamp. They might have ideas."

Only, neither Guru Pathik nor Huu subscribed to postal services. They lived in the outskirts of civilization and by enlightened hermit policies of earthly detachments. Guru Pathik would respond if a letter somehow made it to him. Huu might not even know how to read.

And that. That just brought Aang's thoughts back to Toph. Her letter should be halfway to Gaoling by now. If the amnesia wasn't caused by a spirit in the South Pole, how was Toph doing?

Aang hugged Momo. Toph was fine. Fine. She was with her parents!

...Yeeeeaaah, not the best reason.

Momo was screeching in Aang's arms, so he let go. Gaoling and the Swamp were only a day's flight from each other. If there really wasn't a memory spirit lurking in the South Pole, Aang was due for a visit to the Earth Kingdom.

"But," he mumbled to his lemur. "That means I have to leave. Do you think they'll be okay without me?"

Chitter, said Momo. His glassy green eyes reflected Aang's profile, and he patted Aang's chin encouragingly.

Aang smiled. "You're right, Momo. I'll give it one last shot. The night might have some spiritual activity."

...

Per Aang's request, everyone stayed at the Chief's House that night. Sokka and his father brought the bedrolls back and took the Chief's room, leaving Katara and Zuko to share a room again.

Zuko was still very confused.

Sokka was no longer hostile, which was disconcerting but not unanticipated. The rest of the family was just nice, and Zuko didn't know what to do.

Except whatever he can to keep earning those smiles, which didn't stop coming. Life... was actually kind of good.

Since he was officially part of the family, could Zuko call this home? They said that his time here was some sort of vacation, but maybe it didn't have to be just that. Uncle was surely a better Fire Lord, anyway. He was supposed to have the throne.

Then Zuko could stay here, and help Gran-Gran out with the chores.

Maybe he was loved. Maybe Katara was right after all.

She came into the room, and Zuko noted that she was empty-handed. He asked her, "I thought you were going to get the extra bedroll?"

Katara pulled off her boots at the entrance. "I was, but. I was thinking. Would you sleep better if I slept next to you?"

He jerked involuntarily. "Katara—"

"I know, I know, it's weird, but sometimes it works. Sokka used to do this for me after... after Mom."

Zuko rubbed his neck uncomfortably. "I'm not your brother, Katara."

She said simply, eyes and voice clear and unwavering, "I trust you."

...

Zuko's nightmares still woke him in the night. He breathed heavily, eyes flickering, hands reaching for Mom. However, when he tried to extend his arms, he found that his arms were already occupied.

Katara slept on, by his side.

Zuko watched how little puffs of fog escaped her nose with the rise and fall of her chest. Slowed his breaths to match hers. Shifted and curled around her.

Zuko slept on, by her side.

...

The Avatar lasted about five hours into his meditative night spirit watch over the house before he nodded off.

He jerked awake when his body pitched forward, hands wheeling alarmingly. Yikes, if he wasn't an airbender, he might have fallen off the roof!

He righted his lotus sit, sensing and waiting until dawn broke. Light spilled softly over the horizon, shining pink and yellow hues across the gleaming snow. The sleepless night ended, and location-based spiritual activity was nowhere to be found.

...

Zuko woke with the sun and Katara in his arms for the second time in working memory. Unlike the first time, he understood where he was, and that this was where he was wanted to be.

...

Katara woke to find that she was still wrapped up in Zuko.

"Good morning," her husband said.

"Good morning," she replied, stifling a yawn. She beamed at him. "Sleep well?"

Zuko smiled. "Yeah. Thank you."

...

Sokka, on the other hand, was neither awake to appreciate the sunrise nor had any desire to be. In fact, he would have been very happy to sleep till noon, but Chief Hakoda quite literally yanked the bed out from under him.

"Rise and shine!" said Dad cheerfully. "It's laundry day!"

Laundry day? Laundry had no business with Sokka—

No.

He tried to distract Dad by telling him about all the things he newly remembered this morning. Wow, wasn't his scheme to trick the Fire Sages brilliant? And sure, Zuko did try to chain up Aang on the winter solstice, but Zuko was different now and he respected that. Also, he's learnt his lesson and won't cause property damage ever again, so could the council please change his punishment to something less... emasculating?

Dad cuffed him on the head and pushed him— quite literally; Sokka's boots made grooves in the snow— into the women's communal chores hut.

He tried to escape, but the wooden door had already been shut. Sokka knew because he slammed head-first into it. Ow.

Ignoring his smarting forehead, Sokka closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Shifted a foot and pivoted.

"Just... tell me what I need to do," he said wearily, to all the hair loopied people around him. There was not a single manly facial hair in sight. Sokka's emasculation had begun.

It was like when the men went to war, he supposed, making Sokka was the only boy older than ten left behind in the village. However, at least then, the women didn't look at him quite so judgmentally. He did whatever manly stuff he wanted to do, all the time. There were little boys to make warriors out of.

And, okay, fine. He knew that women could be warriors too, and great ones in special cases, like if they had bendy powers or grew up in Kyoshi. But that didn't mean Sokka was okay with this complete role reversal, or that he wanted to be the special case of the man who did laundry.

At least the women here had left him to his own devices, mostly. They demonstrated how to wash fur and a tunic, told him they would check his work later, and gave him space.

He scanned his to-wash pile and picked out a sock. It was small and nearly worn at the toes, like it belonged to a child. Should be easy, right?

He held it up.

Aw, yuck!

That wasn't even his sock!

Sokka pinched his nose and dropped the sock into the tub. It fell with a splash.

There.

Washed.

No, wait, he mused as he fingered his beard. He was supposed to use soap, right? And do that scrubby motion thingie with his hands?

But the sock was so small. Surely it didn't need the scrubbing, right? Just a bit of soap and voila—

AHA!

He dumped the bar of soap into the water.

Hmm. It wasn't dissolving fast enough.

Well, anyway, nothing a little stirring couldn't fix. And some heat, too!

Sokka was stirring the sixth test of his brand new, very efficient mode of washing clothing when his concentration (and his humming!) was rudely interrupted by voices from outside the hut.

"No, Anaok, I really think I shouldn't—"

"Come on, Prince Fire Lord Zuko sir, I am not washing with freezing water again!"

The room stiffened as the door swung open, revealing Zuko in all his pale-faced, punishment-free glory. He was with a puffy-cheeked girl who stood with hands on her hips, staring defiantly at all the people who might dare protest.

"Nice of you to join us," Sokka deadpanned. Zuko's gold eyes swiveled to him and his washtub. The single brow of Prince Fire Lord Zuko sir shot up.

"What are you doing?" hissed Prince Fire Lord. Sokka suddenly felt embarrassed and tensed, anticipating, "You are a dishonor to menkind!". However, what Zuko actually said was, "You're going to make the stains worse!"

That. Had been distinctly unexpected. Sokka looked down at the parka where it floated among suds and other decidedly non-soapy bubbles. He squawked, "I thought the heat would help!"

"I'm royalty, and even I know that you don't boil bloodstained clothing!"

At this, the females in the room stabbed Sokka with their eyes. Sokka felt slandered. "Oh, you think you can do better?" He mocked with sweeping bows. "Mister Pampered Prince Fire Lord! King of the Perfectly Laundered Socks! You probably have whole hordes of servants just to iron your royal undies. Slaves, too!"

Zuko's eye twitched.

He rolled up his sleeves, stalked to a tub of cold water, and snagged the bloodstained hunter's parka from Sokka's tub. Offended, Sokka grabbed it back, and they played parka tug-of-war until Zuko threw his hands up. He grabbed a different blood-splattered parka and began washing. Scrubbing, like the women had demonstrated.

It was effective, to Sokka's dismay.

But Koh hath no fury like a man whose pride was at stake.

Fifteen minutes later, all the women had angled themselves to discreetly observe this very intense, very manly, laundry washing competition between the Fire Lord and a homegrown Water Tribesman.

The Tribesman was winning. At least, his washed pile was growing faster. It was easily double the size of the Fire Lord's, which was not an inconsiderable size itself. That may or may not have something to do with the fact that the tribesman simply dumped clothing into the water, gave it a mighty stir, and pulled the clothing out.

When the hour was up, the oldest woman present inspected their work. One pile was a bit smaller than an experienced woman washed in that same amount of time. The other pile was five times that. The elder sniffed an article from each pile. Made two very different faces.

Fire Lord Zuko smugly steamed his pile dry, Anaok having volunteered to sort and fold. ("So warm," she moaned, smooshing her face into freshly laundered pants.) In fact, so fond was Anaok of folding Zuko-dried laundry that she convinced the other straggling launderers to let the Fire Lord steam their washed clothing as well.

Many women went home with snuggly laundry and great gossip that day, bar those whose laundry was regretfully done by Sokka.

Five hours later, Sokka was still scrubbing the stubborn bloodstains out of the boiled parka, under the stink-eye of a very angry mother.

...

Yunok's ice-cracking move was proving more difficult than Katara had first imagined. Ground ice was firm and unyielding, and breaking it without giving the opponent a warning sound was tough. She had to melt the edges below the surface of the ice before she gave the pieces a snappy upward shove.

It didn't help that she was targeting the ice under Master Pakku's feet, and he was resisting her. He said maintaining the solidity of one's foothold was supposed to be second nature. He shifted his weight slowly, at least, giving Katara the time to puzzle it out.

However, the puzzling out thing wasn't working so well. Dizziness compounded in her head. Katara grimaced and stopped bending the ice for a moment to steady herself.

"Katara, the cracks are freezing again— Katara, focus!"

"Sorry, Master Pakku, I just feel a little—"

She retched on her spit. A wave of nausea hit.

Katara vomited onto the ice.

...

It was a frenzy.

Master Pakku had bent them both at top speed in to the Chief's House with one hand and maintained a camouflaging snow trick to hide their rush with the other. He found Suki, shouted at her to get Yanneh, and paced anxiously in the next room as the senior healer examined his granddaughter.

Yanneh ran the glowing water across Katara's bare skin. Her graying eyebrows jumped to her forehead.

...

"Why now," Katara moaned, palms pressed into her eyes. "Why now."

Suki rubbed circles into Katara's back. The new patient had redressed and put her parka back on. "To be fair," said Suki sympathetically. "It's better than if it happened before."

"It shouldn't have happened at all," she groaned. "Suki, I don't think we can deal with this."

"Katara," said Suki. "You are one of the most amazing, caring, badass women I know, and I grew up on Kyoshi." She squeezed Katara's arm. "You can do this."

They stepped through the curtain into the common room. Per Healer Yanneh's request, the family had not yet set the table for lunch and waited for her to say whatever it was. Aang chewed his lip nervously. Zuko's face was laced with concern.

Katara swallowed.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She got it over with.

"I'm pregnant!"

.

Silence.

More silence.

Then an upheaval.

The first to reach her was Dad. He was scrambling, yelling, and swinging her around, and through the blur of sensation she could feel the tremble in his hands. There more limbs, grasping at her, and the incoherent babbles of Aang. Sokka's jaw had dropped where he was being supported by Gran-Gran. And Pakku, stiff-backed Master Pakku, was breathing shallowly, tears dripping down his wrinkled and liver-spotted face.

Inexplicable joy bubbled inside Katara, washing away all apprehension and unvoiced cries.

I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. I'm going to have a child.

Wonder and warmth surrounded her on all sides, but then her eyes honed in on the lone figure at the fringes. There was only one person who wasn't shouting or sobbing or smothering her, and it was the same person whose opinion most mattered.

Zuko stood apart from them all, expression dazed and faint.

His voice was just as.

"Are we sure it's mine?"

.

He got snowballed in the face for that.

Author's Note:

*dumps a terrifying amount of responsibility onto poor Zuko's shoulders and runs. ends up in Uncle Iroh's Ba Sing Se teashop.*

Sokka doing chores is my spirit animal. It's not that he can't do them. He just keeps trying to come up with innovative ways to do them.

And! I have a tumblr now: hiniwalay. Follow for updates or strike up a convo. =D