A/N: It really says a lot about Zutara that I still ship it, even though the A:TLA series has been over for like a bazillion years.

PS: Any mentions of Toph seeing are intentional, even if the surrounding characters don't notice.

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Chapter III
New Wounds

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"This isn't like you," Sokka says, after Aang and Toph have exhausted him out of witty one-liners.

Katara narrows her eyes at the horizon and juts out her chin, hugging her knees closer.

"Look, Katara, I know you don't like having him around—"

"Do you?" she asks, leaning her head against her arms. The creases of her knees are sweating and starting to itch, but both Toph and Aang have gone out to collect the meteorite (it's good practice, get on it—I mean now, Twinkletoes), and she isn't moving from this spot while Zuko is around. Though she's starting to regret both this position and the fact that Zuko is always around. He never goes into town, and he doesn't seem interested in anything other than breathing in the mornings, or breathing when the sun sets, or breathing before he goes to sleep. If she were an air-bender, she'd—

No. She digs the heel of her foot on the floor and, just as firmly, does not think of Zuko, breathless and afraid under her hands.

Sokka falters, wincing slightly, and steals a glance at Zuko. He's sitting down on his rock, back turned, and his usual morning exhalations are loud enough that Katara hears them.

He hasn't spoken a word to her since Toph fished them both out of the ground. It's been days; how many, she's not sure, but the moon has already shifted into another phase. Either way, she likes it better like this. No conversation means there are no arguments. No arguments means Aang is happy, and if Aang is happy then Katara can go on pretending she doesn't want to freeze Zuko inside an ice block and chop it in half. She'll come out of this war a great actress.

"No, I don't," he admits in a low voice, because the Southern Water Tribe never forgets, and Zuko hasn't been forgiven by either of them. "But that doesn't mean he's not useful. Look, Katara, Aang's finally learning how to fire-bend, and I'm – I'm actually learning something. I can actually disarm people, now, not just rely on my boomerang and my club. If Zuko hadn't told me—"

"Then we would've found out from someone else," Katara says, but the words sound fake even to her.

"We don't know that," Sokka murmurs.

She swallows, and looks at her brother's profile.

She still remembers the North Pole's long nights, the taste of the icy water, the crispness of the air. Even the memories of Pakku's cold words have grown warm by the time that has passed. What sort of man is Piandao, to teach both a prince and a civilian without concern? Pakku hadn't been as kind. The Southern tribe's only bender, and she hadn't been enough. If Aang's iceberg hadn't cracked – if Aang hadn't been there—

Ah, but Aang is Aang. What does Zuko mean for us, she thinks, and can't find an answer that doesn't end in tragedy.

If Zuko hadn't escaped the palace – if Zuko hadn't told them about Piandao – if Zuko hadn't snuffed out the first inkling of trust before it even had the chance to shine—

"I'm happy for you, Sokka," Katara finally says, and it's the truth. "And you deserve being able to learn. But Zuko betrayed us, Sokka. Aang nearly died, and—I can't forgive him. I can't."

"I don't expect you to, and I won't ask you to, either," Sokka says, staring at his hands. They're more callused than before, and even though Katara offered to soothe the burn, he refused, wearing a proud smile. She hasn't seen Sokka this giddy since Suki kissed him. The memory makes her stomach sink in sadness; she buries her face in between her knees and tries to remember all the colors of the Kyoshi fans. She doesn't think she gets them right, and her stomach roils again.

Sokka's hand presses into her shoulder.

"Just – trust him?" her brother tries, and gives her a light squeeze. Then he scrunches up his face: "Uh, no. No, that's really not the word for – tolerate him? Yeah, that'll work. Just focus on tolerating him!"

"I'm trying to," Katara lies, into her legs.

"That's the spirit," Sokka says cheerfully, and then smacks her on the back. He clears his throat and speaks in a wise, croaky tone: "For every time you don't throttle Zuko, you become one step closer to achieving the Katara State."

And here, she snorts, she can't help it. Sokka's grin grows warmer.

"Fine, Sokka. Come on, let's go see what a space-sword looks like."

They go.

She takes her mother's necklace with her, stuffing it down her shirt when she's sure Zuko is watching, and then catches up with the rest of the group without looking back. Zuko remains behind, alone with Appa and Momo, and even though Katara burns and burns, she can't do anything to quench the fire.

What a terrible excuse for a water-bender, says a voice in her head. It sounds like Zuko's.

Piandao's house is beautiful.

Katara and Aang are given a tour of the grounds, while Toph watches Sokka work the chisel. She moans (I thought this would be more exciting) and mocks (that meteorite is sure looking good, Sokka!), and eventually sits down and plays with the leftover meteorite pieces.

Katara watches them from the dais she and Aang are sitting on, sipping on juice. It is fresh to the touch, flavorful and a little sour, and Katara wonders if she should ask for the recipe.

"You know, Ponytail, I could do it for you. Just like this," says Toph, flicking her fingers in the direction of the meteorite, "and I'd—"

Sokka's scream is high-pitched, as he sets himself between her and the rock. Piandao breaks away from the conversation with his butler, and stares at the two of them with a raised eyebrow. Toph must notice; she relaxes her taut wrists and grins widely, mimicking a fire-bender's posture instead. Katara doesn't know when she's had the time to learn them to such extent, but then she remembers Zuko's continuous exercises, and that Toph is more vigilant than any of them.

"You better watch out for the big bad flamey-o," Toph says, wiggling her fingers. For once, Katara is proud that the younger girl is so good at pretending, though she doesn't know what to feel about seeing Zuko's movements in Toph's body. Piandao watches her, too, swirling the drink in his cup around. "Here it comes! Whoosh!"

"No!" Sokka shouts vehemently, making shooing gestures with the hand not holding the chisel. "This is – I have to do it on my own! No fancy-bending! This is a non-bending area!"

"No, it's not," Aang complains, cocking his head. Katara wants to grab him by the shoulders and remind him that he isn't supposed to act like a bender in the first place. But Aang just turns towards Piandao, who is sipping his juice through a straw. His eyes are big and shiny. "Is it?"

Piandao's stare is sharp, as it sets on Aang. Katara sees Zuko's attentive gaze in him – the way Zuko had analyzed her body when they clashed, the way Zuko's gaze will always turn towards the slightest of noises. Suddenly, she's unsure if this was a good idea. Aang should've stayed behind, she thinks, and her posture must change, because Piandao's grey eyes slide into hers. They stay for a second, two, and Katara goes cold all over. Beneath her sarong, her water skin vibrates.

"No," Piandao says, and smiles at Aang.

Katara exhales through her mouth. The air that slides in between her teeth goes out in choppy parts, but it's quiet, and that's all she needs.

"No," Piandao continues, "we do not agree with such acrimonious rules."

"See, Sokka?" Aang says smugly. "You shouldn't be so acrimonious all the time."

Toph waits until Piandao is turned away before she trips Sokka.

Katara starts looking for escape routes, just in case.

More worthy than any man I have ever trained, Piandao had said, and Katara's first thought had been of Dad, and how happy he's going to be when they tell him. But her second thought had been of Zuko, and how angry she can make him if she mocks him with it.

Sokka is more worthy than Zuko, in Piandao's eyes. That, at least, serves as some consolation, even if she's known it since the day Aang slid out of the iceberg. She doesn't need a Fire Nation swordsman to tell her this. My brother is more worthy than you, Katara thinks proudly, risking a glance at Zuko's chewing mouth.

The half-empty teapot lulls for a sharp quarter-second, nearly falling off the rock stand Toph has bent for them. Katara hurriedly moves her gaze to the floor and releases her unwitting hold on the tea.

Toph gives her a look. Zuko begins to, as well, but stops himself mid-way.

"I still can't believe he knew who we were all along," Sokka mutters, oblivious to the tension, and throws a pebble into the fire. It cracks in half, unevenly split by the flames.

"Stop that," Toph says, and finally looks away from Katara. She shudders, dirty hands grasping at her shoulders. "They can feel it, you know. When they burn."

Sokka looks horrified, staring at the handful of rocks in his palm.

"Wha—no, they don't! Do they?" he asks, and drops them all at once just in case.

"Ha! The look on your face!" Toph snorts, falling back and rolling on the floor.

Momo chatters alongside her, and steals a slice of mango while she's wheezing.

Aang laughs with an open mouth, eyes crinkling. Katara tries to let the moment pass, because it's been a while since she's seen Aang tearing up with laughter—but then she notices Zuko's eyes narrow with mirth when he presses the palm of his hand to his mouth, and that's it. He doesn't deserve this joy – if she can't have it, he certainly can't, either.

"I am so glad you guys find it in yourselves to laugh," Katara says, glaring at each of them in turn. She tries to skip over Zuko, who is sitting between Aang and Toph, but she's not fast enough; she still sees him look up, eyes yellow in the firelight. But it's easy to pretend she doesn't.

"What's wrong now, sweetness?" Toph groans, and throws a pebble on the fire, listens to it crack.

Everything is. More worthy than any man I have ever trained, Piandao had said, and then had proceeded to chase her brother across his carefully-kept yard. His butler had gone a bit green towards the end, but Katara's plight had been far greater than a few chopped-off bamboo trees.

Sokka might have a brand new sword and a brand new self-assurance, but the drawing of Piandao's form is still imprinted in her skull. She had been so close to bending his little creek into ice spears when Sokka was at Piandao's mercy. The sword had been shining in the sun, and then the shadow cast by Sokka's jaw had erased the white glint. His Adam's apple had bobbed, up and down, and Katara, frozen behind the beautiful wooden fence, had thought: I can't lose anyone else to the Fire Nation.

"Don't needle her, Toph," she hears Sokka mutter.

Katara closes her hands in her lap and tries to think of anything unrelated to blood, dripping down polished metal, or congealing in a blue dress. Katara wipes it off her mind like she's drying the dishes.

Opposite of her, Zuko shifts, and it takes all of her control not to glare at him. Because if he weren't here, it would be easy enough to explain—she's scared and insecure and he's one of the largest parts of the problem. But Zuko is here, and there are things she won't discuss with him present. Things that she once thought he would understand.

The teapot tips again. She breathes in and lets go, even though the water beckons.

"Katara, everything turned out okay," Aang says, after a few seconds of silence. There's a juice stain on his vest, and she tries bending it off until she realizes it has long since dried. "Sokka got a shiny new sword—"

"And a new Pai Sho tile," Sokka cuts in, looking smug, and Zuko's good eye widens in surprise. "Granted, I haven't really figured out what to actually—"

"A Pai Sho tile?" Zuko cuts in, nearly breathless. It's the first time Katara hears him speak in days, and the moment curls. It is as if she's like finding out their milk has gone spoiled, and they have nothing left to drink for breakfast. Her face scrunches up reflexively, and the teapot lulls. "Let me see it."

"Whoa, Pouty, easy on the grabby hands," Toph says, frowning at him. The rocks in her hand drip to the floor, one by one. "There are only two thieves on board, and you're not one of them." Her voice sounds like a warning. Katara frowns at her in confusion. But Toph just turns to Katara with a smile, dropping her chin into her dusty hand. "Right, Sweetness? Tell him."

"Please," Zuko implores, seemingly not having heard Toph. His wide eyes are on Sokka, and the teapot bursts.

A piece of metal whizzes past her head, and Aang blows off another one headed straight for his face. Toph shrieks and raises one wall of rock, while Sokka curses and narrowly avoids a shard.

Zuko stares at her, hand still grasping Sokka's shoulder. He's open-mouthed, and there is a thin cut going from his cheekbone to the tip of his good ear. A few beads of blood grow full and heavy against his pale skin, and her dinner almost goes up her throat as they go down his face.

"Katara?" someone asks.

She bends the tea off of herself wordlessly and rises to her feet.

"I'm going to bed," she announces, surprised at the exhaustion in her voice, and walks off without looking back.

Please, she echoes angrily, and stays awake for hours on end.

The sky is still dark by the time she drags Aang off to practice. The sun rises while they head downhill, and Aang gets two water whips to the face because he can't stop yawning. Katara hides her fatigue a little better, though not by much. Her stamina dries under the sun; she wonders if Zuko is already up, legs crossed and breath steady.

"You should have healed Zuko, too," Aang says, while Katara heals the bruise on his forehead. The water around her hand bubbles up at the sound of his voice, and Aang stiffens, but doesn't relent. "Katara, this isn't like—"

"Don't tell me that," she interrupts, letting the water drip down her arm. Aang's head is pale and clear like the clouds crowding in the distance. "This is exactly like I am."

"No, it isn't!" he exclaims, lines drawn between his eyebrows. The step he takes is unsteady, his foot sliding on the moss-covered rocks, but it still puts distance between them. A trill of regret chimes inside Katara at the sight of such hastily-put distance. "You're nice, and you're kind, and you always help people!"

"Zuko isn't a person, Aang," she hisses, before the meaning of her words sink in. Her face flushes and she backtracks: "I mean—well, yeah, he is a person, but he's not a good person! And the last time I checked, we didn't go around saving people who tried to – who wanted to—"

The water curves around them when she sighs and drags a hand down her face.

Aang's arms are crossed, his expression starting to soften. The signs of faraway forgiveness are easy enough to spot; she has long since learned how to recognize his face's landscape.

"But you didn't even apologize," he mutters, and begins making his way to the riverside. "I know you didn't mean to explode like that—"And then he stops, water at the ankles, and turns to her again. His frown is hard, suspicious. "Actually, what was up with that? I've never seen you do that."

Her face goes hot. Wide golden eyes and drops of blood return to the front of her mind.

"It just – it just happens, sometimes," Katara stammers, a little queasy. "It's how I broke you out of the iceberg, too," she adds, trying to steer the conversation into different waters.

Aang's face twists even further. A mix of hurt and disbelief.

"So you were angry." His shoulders slump, and his voice lowers. "Is it because I wanted Zuko to join us?"

"Oh, Aang," she says, and moves over to set a hand on his shoulder. His skin is soft and warm; her fingers are pruned and cold. "I'm not angry at you."

"But you're angry all the same, aren't you?" Aang asks. His eyes are wide enough to mirror the dawn sky.

The breeze rolls around between their legs, and Katara suppresses a shiver, but the goosebumps spread across her skin anyway. Aang looks at the rising sun, and breathes out. Katara almost expects to see a wisp of smoke, and then recalls Zuko is the only one who does that. She wonders if he'll teach Aang to do it, too.

"Yeah," she whispers, hand dropping to the side of her hip. "I guess I am."

They return to the camp in silence. Sokka greets them with a yawn and a rolled-up bedroll, and tells them it's time to move on to another place.

"I guess we should stop for a new teapot on the way," he mutters, rubbing at his eyes. Katara frowns at him, hands tight around her clothes, but decides not to take the bait. She doesn't want to blow up again – not minutes before they have to share close quarters for an undetermined amount of time.

Appa's saddle feels smaller than ever. Katara spends the whole time staring at the landscape beneath them, trying to follow the rivers. Aang and Sokka argue over maps while Toph sprawls out and sleeps. Zuko stares at the Pai Sho tile in his hands, turning it over and over like he's trying to wear it out.

"Okay, so," Katara says, staring at the canyon unfurling beneath them, "I know there's a pond nearby, and that we can get shade during the day, but isn't this a little—?"

"The word you're looking for is creepy," Sokka finishes, looking up at the stone pillars. "And yeah, it is. Creepy, I mean – it's definitely super creepy."

"You guys are pansies. I like it just fine," Toph says, grinning.

"You would," Sokka returns, tapping his knuckles against the closest pillar. A few pebbles fall down – one hits her brother on the top of his head.

"You're right," she laughs, and bends the pebbles onto the top of the pillar again, while Sokka's hand rubs across his sore scalp. "I would, and I do."

Katara rolls her eyes and throws the remaining bedrolls over the saddle's end. Aang floats over to help her with the rest of the supplies, staring at her like he's trying to figure her out. Katara pretends not to notice; she hands him the cauldron with a smile, and slides down Appa's tail like she's sliding down a wave.

The fur catches onto her boots and she stumbles, a bit – and Sokka catches her by the arm, eyes wide.

"Thanks," she says, balancing the clay bowls against her chest.

Her brother's shoulder shifts as he lets go, and Zuko's standing half a step behind him, a hand hastily lowering to his side; he turns away and stares at the landscape in a way that reminds Katara of Piandao. The cut on his face is still there. Why wouldn't it be, she asks herself, feeling stupid.

"You're welcome," Sokka says, and makes finger guns at her. She shifts her gaze to him. "After all, we wouldn't want to break any more—"

"And now you're just being an idiot," she huffs, stomping off to set the bowls on the floor.

"It's not my fault you can't handle my wit, Katara," Sokka calls out, and Toph trips him. "Hey!"

"Don't needle her," she mimics, deepening her voice. Then she points a finger in his general direction. "How about you follow your own advice, Ponytail?"

"I'll have you know that my advice—"

Katara tunes them out, focusing on the food supplies instead. The few moon peaches that survived the trip roll out of the closest bag, and Momo swipes one with practiced ease, chattering away as he flees towards Appa. Katara lets him, but only because they still have enough food for a few days.

"What's cooking, Katara?" Aang asks, stealing the moon peach from Momo and putting it back. Momo cries out, and Aang turns to him and gives him a reproaching look: "No, Momo. You had one already."

"Sokka bought some komodo rhino sausages, so I guess we should eat those before they go bad," she says, over Momo's complaints. The meat feels soft in her palms as she sets it over the wooden slab. "If I make rice to go along with it, can you make some dumplings for yourself?"

"Sure!" Aang says, grinning, and digs into the burlaps. The movements of his hands are purposeful, but his eyes glance at her in the in-betweens, and his voice picks up speed: "Hey, um, what if we pickled cabbage to go along with the rice? There was this old lady in the market who said it was a Fire Nation delicacy – she said they fry it and mix it in with the rice, or something! I'm not entirely sure."

He scratches at his neck, a little stiffly, and then claps his hands together.

"Hey, I'm sure Zuko would know how to do it! We can ask him, I bet he wouldn't mind—"

"Aang," Katara warns, swirling water from the pond onto the cauldron. It looks clear enough, but she'll have it boiled first, just in case. She looks over her shoulder, spots Zuko's tiny form in the distant field of pillars, and proceeds: "I don't need you to play peacemaker."

"You sure, Sweetness?"

Katara can't help but to stiffen in alarm. Toph snorts, climbing out of the ground, and sprawls against Appa's belly. The rice bag lies against an unwashed cabbage, and the sight makes her wish they'd never took pity on the vegetables' merchant.

"I never knew you liked cabbage this much, Toph," Katara replies, as frosty as the water.

"I don't. It tastes as bad as it looks," the girl says, picking her nose. "That's the whole point of fried rice, though. The cabbage sneaks by without, y'know, completely destroying your tongue. Besides," she points out, turning her face towards Katara, "aren't you always getting on my case for not eating enough greens?"

"Yeah, Katara," says Aang, with a decidedly forced smile. "We could even save the rhino sausages for later and go full-on vegetarian! Didn't we have some leftover carrots? We can always ask Zuko to grill—"

"You can grill them, can't you, Aang?" Katara interrupts, maintaining a steady voice. "You know how to fire-bend already, don't you? You're already good enough to light our campfires. How about you grill the vegetables yourself?"

"Rancorous," Toph coughs, into a closed hand. Katara glares at her, inwardly wondering how Toph knows a word that has more than two syllables. Toph blinks innocently, mimicking shock. "I must be catching something."

"Look, I … I don't think that's such a good idea," Aang says, staring at the floor. "I haven't really—I mean, I have, but—maybe we should just forget about this."

Toph shifts to frown at Aang, hand touching at the ground.

"Why's your heart beating so fast, Twinkletoes?"

Aang's spine goes straight, then curves. His shoulders are so tiny.

"I haven't—I haven't really fire-bent yet," he replies, in a low voice that floods with shame. Katara feels her chest clench with a need to hug Aang and never let go, until: "Zuko wants me to master breathing, first."

The moment shifts. Toph stares straight at Katara, eyes wide. Her fingers press into the ground until they go white.

"Uhh, Sweetness, you'd better not—"

"No," Katara says, getting to her feet. Toph's face twists. "You wanted me to talk to Zuko? Let's go talk to him."

"Sweetness, I'm warning you—"

"Katara, no," Aang pleads, "it's different from water-bending, he – he knows what—"

"Listen to me, Sugar Queen—"

"He knows we haven't got time, Aang!" she hisses, livid. "The comet is coming! Ozai will kill everything! And if he plans on just wasting our time with breathing instead of actually teaching you like he said he would, then I should just—"

"You should what," Zuko says from behind her, voice as dry as the canyon they're in.

Katara freezes, heart hammering in her chest. Toph smacks her forehead, then groans, a long thing that only adds to the awkwardness. Appa replies with a short huff, one leg twitching, and Katara finally manages to will her body into turning around.

Zuko's eyes are almost flashing. Hands closed, shoulders tight, and chin straight, he stares down at her in a way that makes her want to sweep him off his feet with a water whip. A few steps behind him, Sokka looks at her, then at Zuko. His hand rests on his sword's pommel, open but tense.

"You should what?" he asks again, through grit teeth. The pitch of his voice is so low she can barely make out the words. Sokka's voice has already broken, but not even her brother's throat works as well as Zuko's.

"Just watch the way you speak to my sister," Sokka mutters, as he walks around Zuko to sit next to Toph.

Zuko's eyes dart down to the sword resting at Sokka's thigh, but they linger for less than a second – the next one, he's glaring at her again. The air is thick and warm, and her whole body feels dry. How long has she gone without blinking? Her eyes are prickling. Her mouth is dry, too; she feels it when she swallows.

"Guys, let's not do this again," Aang says, staring at the rising fire.

"I'll bet you two copper pieces the cauldron's gonna blow," Toph tells him.

"You should what?" Zuko asks again, the tendons in his neck taut and prominent like the square cut of his jaw. Katara half-expects to see smoke billow out of his mouth. "You should banish me from the group? Was that what you were going to say?"

No, she thinks, I'd never stoop as low as to strike you at your weakest point. And then her conscience rolls along, telling her: ah, but you're not sure. That brings her back half a step, her eyes widening as they maintain contact with his. The golden reflection lowers to the hitch in her throat, then lowers to the spot between her open mouth. She almost sees regret flashing across the warm glint of his eyes.

"Of course not!" Aang says, and floats to his feet.

That puts her back in her spot: conscious, and ready to attack.

"And if it was?" Katara asks, despite her thoughts, and extends one arm in front of Aang. From the corner of her eye, she can see the way his face shifts into abyssal disappointment. But the lightning scar on his chest, still rough and pink, doesn't allow Katara to manage anything but aggressive defense.

Zuko's eyes don't move away from her, but they widen, and if Katara ever got around to slapping him, this is what she imagines his face would look like. Her blood thrums in her veins at the sight, hot and fast.

"Right," Zuko spits, after changing his expression into the sort of anger she knows best. There it is, she thinks, almost hungry; if I didn't hate you, I'd almost miss it. "I don't know what I expected from someone like you."

"Really?" Katara scoffs, voice high. "Because I think I do. You expected us to forgive you because your Uncle hasn't – has he, Zuko?" she asks, finally managing to find the words she's wanted to tell him for days. Ever since she was made-up to look like a spirit; ever since he was pushing a Fire Nation general's face into the dirt. Both actions were stock-full of selfishness—she'll lie to the others but not herself—yet only hers were in the name of justice.

"Don't you speak of things you don't understand," Zuko says, and this time there's a small sliver of fire inside his mouth. She sees the light before his lips touch closed, but it still burns across her body.

"I understand plenty! What were you doing in Jang Hui? Because you told me you weren't tracking us," she accuses, relentless like the water running down a fast river. His shoulders relax at that, like he's readying himself to roll out of harm's way. But in the end Katara is a master; she'll make it hard for him. "You want to know what I think, Zuko? I think that when you found us, you also found an excuse to keep running away from all of your mistakes—"

"Katara, that's enough," Aang whispers, looking away from her, and Katara's breath catches at the back of her throat. With that, the silence lowers upon them like the night's chill.

"Yes," Zuko says, bottled flames sucking up the air inside him, "it is."

And when he walks away first, into the field of pillars, all Katara sees is the cut dragging across his face.