A/N: This is my first foray into Avatar fanfiction. I have other projects that I need to be working on, but this bunny was just begging to be written ever since I saw the episode The Southern Raiders. Zuko has long been one of my favourite Avatar characters, and the events of that episode puts him in an interesting situation where his internal conflicts are concerned. This is an attempt to capture those internal conflicts.

Better Than Me

I am ready to forgive you.

Those were her words to me, spoken several hours ago as the sun set. Perhaps in the past few days I showed Katara something that enables her to no longer bitterly accept my presence here. Perhaps in the past few days my actions have convinced her that I have changed and that I am needed in this group whose duty is to help the Avatar.

There is one thing that I am unsure of tonight.

I do not know where I stand.

Katara has proven that she is stronger than I can ever be. I set out with her to find the Southern Raiders because I honestly believed that she needed closure. She needed justice. How many years has her anger against the Fire Nation been burning inside her? Too many to count. By taking her on this journey to find her mother's killer, I thought I was doing her good, finally allowing her a chance to heal old wounds.

Now, I'm not so sure.

The waves lap gently against the shore of Ember Island. Not far from where I sit is the spot where Azula, Ty Lee, Mai and I once built a fire and revealed our deepest feelings to each other. It seems like lifetimes ago.

Mai…

I stand, swiftly picking up a nearby rock and throwing it as far as I can. My eyes try to follow it as its path forms an arc through the air and hits the surface of the water, sinking beneath the rolling waves. I can barely see it through the dark of the night.

I can remember the words I left her as clearly as if I were composing the letter this moment. How much did I hurt her when I left? I am afraid to know the answer. Leaving Mai that message, knowing that I was betraying her was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, even harder than facing my own father. Yet, she must have overcome that feeling of betrayal somehow. She turned her back on my sister in order to protect me, sacrificing her freedom so my friends – Mai's own enemies – and I could escape.

I stoop to pick up a second rock and hurl it into the waves.

"I'm guessing that throwing rocks isn't helping," a light voice says behind me.

It's Katara. I turn to see her sitting quietly on a rock, hands folded in her lap. I shrug sheepishly.

"No." I pause. I can't help but wonder why she is here. "What do you want?"

She purses her lips together before speaking again. "I wanted to talk to you," she says. There is caution in her voice; it's almost as if she doesn't quite know how to speak to me without sounding bitter.

I pick up another stone and roll it back and forth between my hands absentmindedly. "Why?"

When I look across at her, I can see that her eyes have hardened. She looks frustrated.

"Zuko," she says firmly, "I meant what I said when I told you that I was ready to forgive you."

She doesn't need to tell me again. Her actions and her words have proven that already.

"I know."

I can't understand why I'm having trouble accepting her forgiveness. Up until now, Katara has only shown me two sides: her bitter and unforgiving side and her furious warrior side. Only once before now have those traits softened – when we were both imprisoned under Ba Sing Se. I don't have to remind myself that I threw that sympathetic, caring nature she had shown me back in her teeth only moments afterwards when I betrayed her.

Maybe I'm so used to her being angry and untrusting towards me that I can barely see her any way.

No. I don't have to trick myself – I know it's not that.

She's been watching me, her expression carefully veiled until now. When I look back at her, there's something in her eyes that tell me she looks hurt.

"You don't believe me?" she asks quietly, turning her head away.

"No!" I respond immediately. As if to enforce that answer, I close the distance between us and find myself standing right in front of her. "I believe you," I say. And I do, I really do.

But some part of me continues to shy away from it.

My hair has fallen into my eyes again. Defeated by my confusion, I sit down beside her and brush my hair out of my face. There are no clouds in the sky tonight; a crescent moon shines down, bathing the beach in silver light. Somehow, the light feels cold against my skin. For many years, this symbol of the Waterbenders has been an enemy. But today, it has changed somehow. It is no longer a bitter enemy. Perhaps like the Waterbenders, it brings the power of healing with its silver glow. I want to believe it, but part of me refuses to accept it.

Katara has fallen silent. She is sitting still, staring out at the waves as they continue to lap against the sand of the shore. She looks lost in thought. I consider getting up and leaving, but for some reason I feel obliged to stay. Katara does not say anything, nor does she look at me.

Finally, I decide to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Why… did you want to talk to me?"

She exhales softly, her eyes closed. "I wanted to thank you, Zuko," she says, "for what you did for me. And I wanted to apologize for the way I've been treating you ever since you joined our group. I didn't have the right to treat you like that, especially when Aang… when everyone else trusted you. I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "There's no need to apologize. You don't have to be sorry. It's me who should be sorry."

Katara turns and raises an eyebrow questioningly. "You've already proven yourself. You don't need to do more than that. Aang's right. We do have a choice."

I clench my fists. "I'm still the one who hunted you down mercilessly. I'm still the one who betrayed you in Ba Sing Se."

"And we've forgiven you for it."

I groan and suddenly I'm on my feet and I can't remember how I got to be standing several paces away from her, my back turned. There is a pause before she speaks again.

"What?"

How can I tell her? How can I explain even to myself why I am having such difficulty with this?

I hear soft footsteps in the sand and she places a hand on my shoulder. "Aang was right," she says. "I should have listened to him before, but somehow I know I would not have renounced my anger at Yon Rha if you hadn't brought me to him. Violence is not the answer. It never should be." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her determined expression. I try to turn away from her again, but she catches my arm and pulls me back. "I am on the right path now. Some day, I may forgive him for what he did. I've had time to think about it." She hesitates and her eyes narrow. "But that's me. You… You're struggling with accepting what Aang said, and don't deny it because I can see it. Forgiveness isn't something that is easy for you – is it?"

There is no way I can dodge her question. "Part of me is happy to accept your forgiveness, Katara," I say slowly, "but another part of me questions it. In your place, I would have killed Yon Rha. If I were in Aang's place, I would kill the Fire Lord—"

"That's a different matter entirely," she interrupts, her voice hollow.

"No." I hesitate. "No, it isn't."

Katara bows her head. "Aang told me what you said. You asked him what he was going to do when he faces your father."

"He's going to have to kill him, Katara. There's no other way."

"But you know Aang. He will put every effort into finding another path. He doesn't see things the way you… the way the rest of us do."

My hands curl into fists. I know what she meant to say.

I am completely devoid of forgiveness. I have admitted it in my own words when I told her that I would have killed Yon Rha if I had been her. No, I don't see things the way the rest of them do. That fact alone still divides us, in more ways than one.

"Zuko," Katara says quietly. She sounds cautious.

"Yes?"

"Does this… does this have anything to do with the guilt you feel about your uncle?"

I bite back a growl and turn away.

"No." My voice is flat. I won't admit it to her, but Katara is right. She found the soft spot that is the source of much of my confusion.

I expect her to press forwards with the line of thinking, but she doesn't. Instead, she tilts her head and looks up at the crescent moon.

"He will forgive you," she says quietly. "Just wait and see." She smiles slightly and looks at me, her expression sad. "But I think your first step towards that would be to forgive yourself."

Without another word, she turns and walks slowly across the beach. I watch her leave. She has such faith that Uncle Iroh will forgive me. I can't see why. I hurt him more than I've hurt anyone… even Mai. He placed so must trust in me and then I threw it back at him in his teeth. I've tried to shut out the guilt that has plagued me since Ba Sing Se, but I can't do it any longer.

I think I'm beginning to understand what my uncle told me about the crossroads of my destiny. I've made more mistakes than I thought I ever could in my life. I can still feel the repercussions of my choice at Ba Sing Se, even though I've tried my hardest to correct it. But it's just one mistake after another. I'm not sure how much longer I can last with my decisions.

Have I ever made a good decision? I've grown up in a family driven by rage and anger in a merciless country. Try though I might to change myself, I can never feel like I'm succeeding. I will never be able to be like Katara, or Aang or any of the others who can feel the forgiveness. They live and breathe it. I run from it.

If you want to say that Katara has shown me just one thing in these past few days, it would have to be that she is a stronger, better person than I can ever be. What she did when we had her mother's murderer held captive required more strength than facing an entire fleet of Fire Nation ships. I've learned that violence is not always the answer and I want to believe it to be true, but something in me resents it. I try, but I fail.

I am envious of those who can believe it. People like Katara. People like Aang. People like my uncle. They are better than me. And I can only hope that some day, I can be like them.