Fear

The sky was lit with blue and orange. The flames reached up and out over the courtyard. Her eyes strained through the stark contrast of bright against dark, searching for a silhouette. His silhouette.

Azula stood above, glaring down at him. Katara frowned; Zuko had been right. There was something odd about the Fire Nation princess. She wasn't the same cunning, manipulative killer that hunted Aang down. She looked lost, frightened... betrayed.

"Where's your lightning?" Zuko taunted, arms spread wide. Katara gasped and quickly stepped forward. She wasn't seeing the agni kai anymore. At the mention of Azula's lightning, her memories transported her back into the crystal catacombs beneath Ba Sing Se. It was as if she were reliving the adrenaline rush through her veins as she bended the water into an octopus formation, fending off the Dai Li; the amazement and pride fueling her when she watched Aang enter the Avatar State; the horror when Azula struck him with that fatal blow; the complete helplessness when she saw him fall right before her eyes.

Zuko crouched and then his arms were together again in front of his chest, poised and ready. His movement brought Katara back to the present, but it didn't shake her uneasiness. Unknowingly, she shuffled forward until she was well inside the courtyard with the other two. "Afraid I'll redirect it?" he shouted.

Azula's eyes widened and her head tilted with a crazed excitement. "You want lightning?" she screeched. Katara winced; even her irregularly calm, soothing voice changed. It had a higher frequency, a more intense urgency. "I'll give you lightning." Her fingers guided her arms in fast but measured arcs, her body balanced, the technique well-practiced. Blue crackled around her body. Katara could feel the energy even as far away as she was.

Azula pointed. Katara only had time to hold her breath, praying to the Spirits that Zuko would be able to redirect, dodge, stop the lightning - it didn't matter to her what he did as long as he survived - before she realized the blue lightning was coming straight for her.

She dreamed that she couldn't save him.

His body was lifeless under her hands. The heat left him; he no longer burned like fire. She hadn't reached him in time. He'd passed when she was fighting Azula.

She hunched over Zuko's limp body, holding his face between her hands. "Wake up," she begged. "Wake up, wake up! Zuko, open your eyes, damn you!" Tears sprang to her eyes and she bent down, pressing her lips fervidly to his.

There was no response.

Behind her, blue fire raged.

He dreamed that he couldn't save her.

A couple yards away, Azula laid on the ground, her body raw and red. Horrified, he cradled Katara's head gently in his lap. Her cheeks were lightly flushed, as if she were still alive, as if she were still breathing.

"Katara," he murmured. Breathing became difficult. His vision blurred. "Katara, if you can hear me, open your eyes." He slipped his hand between her fingers. "Squeeze my hand."

She didn't move.

The stillness, the silence - it was deafening.

Zukos's eyes snapped open, then quickly shut. He hissed through clenched teeth, his chest burning. His entire body was burning. He struck out, narrowly missing Mai, wishing that he could beat the pain away.

She stirred at his movement, and concern crossed her face at the sight of him. "Zuko," she whispered, and reached out. He flinched when she touched his forehead, and she brought her hand back to her silently. Zuko knew that must have hurt her, but her face betrayed no emotion.

"Zuko, the healers," she pleaded, not for the first time. He said nothing, beginning to shake. Mai hovered her hand above his shoulder, not touching him. After a moment, she called out for the healers that had been assisting him earlier in the month.

His brisk shout overrode her command, and he continued through the night feeling as though his heart was physically being ripped out of his chest.

It's no different, he realized, from when I imagine her with Aang.

"Stay inside until we confirm your safety," the palace's chief of security ordered roughly, escorting Mai and Zuko into a poorly-secured storage room beneath the southern Watch Tower. Mai guided Zuko onto a wooden stool. He sat clumsily, groaning and clutching the fabric covering his chest. Briefly he wished that he had brought a pillow to support his back.

Mai snapped out a dagger from behind her and balanced it in her palm, facing the door. She leaned forward and swiftly locked it.

I hate waiting, he thought sourly. Zuko coughed thickly, then wiped blood away from his lips.

They could both hear it: the distant crashing and the fires; the yells of the guards still loyal to him; the terrorized screams of the maids that were stupid enough to linger outside of the safe zones. Zuko closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. He dimly smelt the fires, sensed their heat and energy. The individual scuffles came closer, the sounds of a miniature war grew louder. Closer. Louder.

Closer.

Louder.

This coup was not nearly as silent as the one orchestrated by his sister in Ba Sing Se.

Zuko's breathing sped up until his chest began to hurt. He tried to stifle the urge to cough. The radicals were right outside the door. Mai's grip on her knife tightened.

Suddenly the door burst open. An orange flame engulfed Mai as she threw the dagger into the open doorway. She didn't scream, but when the fire extinguished itself, she was on the floor, clutching her shoulder. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her lips were pinched into a thin, straight line.

Zuko stared at her, whispering her name. As he moved toward her, a figure stepped between them. Zuko blinked, trying to focus. The figure belonged to a large, burly man with massive hands attached to thick arms. General Wung. In Wung's arms, he gingerly held a dead girl, Mai's dagger struck inside her neck. Zuko couldn't recognize the girl's face.

"Fire Lord Zuko," Wung rumbled, voice gruff. "You will suffer for the pain that you inflicted upon your own people."

He laid the girl down reverently at his feet, the furious passion in his eyes never leaving Zuko's face. General Wung's gaze burned Zuko right down to the pit of his stomach. Zuko struggled into a fighting stance. He swung out his fist, but it was a wild blow. A weak flame shot toward the radical he was least expecting, but Wung caught Zuko's fist in his own, squeezing. Zuko groaned as the bones cracked.

Swiftly Wung whipped his arm back behind him, elbow bent at his side, while still holding onto Zuko. He let go at the last moment, Zuko crashing into a wooden shelf and knocking it to the ground with a tortured grunt.

Zuko wondered if this was how he was going to die; vulnerable, weak, and defenseless.

Blood bubbled up into his mouth. He spat it onto Wung's boots with disgust, but only felt more disdain for himself. The general didn't even notice.

Zuko's gaze passed over Mai, who was now in a sitting position but still hunched over. He didn't see her. In his mind's eye, he saw someone else. A girl, with light cocoa skin and lush brown hair. She was looking at him with blazing blue eyes, mouthing his name.

General Wung continued forward until he stood menacingly over Zuko's feeble position. His expression was murderous.

Zuko closed his eyes as another series of bloody coughing racked his body. He dimly heard someone call his name. His heart dropped, realizing the voice didn't belong to the young woman he yearned for. Reluctant with exhaustion, he opened his eyes again, vision cloudy.

Mai swayed on her feet, but she stood upright and confident. Her clothes were scorched, exposed skin pink. She glanced at Zuko, then at Wung's back. He hadn't turned, deciding she wasn't a threat. Mai jerked her wrist fluidly, but her aim was off, and instead of cutting the general's spine like Zuko knew she would have done, it sunk deep into his right bicep.

He barely let out a howl. Wung turned, calmly pulling the knife out of his arm. Blood dripped down to his fingertips as he dropped the dagger. The air shimmered, and then a gust of fire erupted from his palm. Mai flew off her feet and slammed against the wall opposite Zuko. When she hit the ground, her body was motionless.

Zuko puffed out a hot, bloody breath. He imagined her kneeling beside him. If she were here, he'd have the strength to get up. He'd have the bravery to fight back. He would want to protect her, because surely after he was killed, they would go after her. "Katara," he mumbled through gritted teeth, and suddenly just her name gave him the strength and bravery that he needed. "Katara."

He stood, inhaling. He needed energy. You rise with the moon, he remembered saying to her. I rise with the sun.

The sun.

Zuko narrowed his eyes and a slow smirk played across his lips. Wung growled, a guttural animal sound emanating from his throat. Zuko quickly sidestepped him, recalling the way Aang had showed him how to dodge and avoid. He had never mastered it, but the technique was useful now; Wung wasn't ready for it. The general stumbled forward as Zuko moved effortlessly around him as if he were splitting the air. Zuko raced out the door.

The rays of the sun beat down onto him and immediately Zuko felt himself being lifted. He felt like he wasn't entirely ill or useless. He turned in a slow circle, arms outstretched, absorbing the energy.

He heard the rebels form a circle around them, their boots dragging across the ground and kicking up dirt. They didn't even try to sneak up on him. They probably figured that he would surrender. Zuko opened his eyes, glaring at all of them from beneath his lashes as he turned. He counted each head; there were about thirty men and women dressed in black, cloth covering their faces.

He blinked, and in that short moment, he saw the beautiful colors of fire. The reds, the yellows, the oranges. The blues, the purples, there was even a tinge of green. Fire was energy, it wasn't destruction. The dragons and his uncle had taught him this lesson. These radicals, he realized, they were destruction. But Zuko? He was energy.

Zuko sucked in a breath, then opened his mouth wide, a jet of flame exploding from his lips.

Mai gazed at Zuko as he slept, a brush, parchment and ink pad in front of her. She scribbled a quick letter to Katara. She informed her of the situation with the radicals' latest assassination attempt and Zuko's physical condition. Part of her dreaded what might happen if Katara were to come to the Fire Nation. Mai knew that Zuko felt something for the waterbender. She didn't know Katara well, but she could only guess that that something was reciprocated.

But she loved Zuko enough to do anything that meant he would heal. Mai marked the message as urgent, then tied it around a hawk and watched it fly out the window. She imagined what was left of her relationship with Zuko fly with it.

The only light was provided by a few weak candles scattered throughout the room. Katara's vision slowly adjusted as her eyes rested upon Zuko. The royal red sheets were tangled at the foot of the bed. He was curled in on himself, fingers mindlessly raking across his bare chest, causing red lines to form on his skin.

She sighed, her heart opening at the sight of the one man she missed the most, yet constricting when she realized just how much he was suffering.

Katara was about to open the drawn curtains and allow moonlight to filter in when a cool, slim hand grasped hold of her arm. She turned and came face-to-face with the pale white complexion of Mai's solemn, oval face. Her dark eyes were unreadable. "Take care of him," she said quietly. There was an odd pitch in her tone, as if she were giving up something important to her by saying that.

"I will," Katara promised. After pushing aside the curtains, she opened the window and a gush of the cold night air rushed in, cooling the hot humidity of the room. It lifted her long hair off her shoulders, hovering for a moment before settling down again.

"Close the window!" a heavy, groggy voice demanded behind her. Katara hurried to Zuko's bedside. As she brushed a sweaty lock of hair out of his fever-crazed eyes, she saw Mai slip out the door.

"Oh, Zuko," she murmured, fully taking in his physical condition. His wan skin clung to his bones. He looked cold, but he burned like the fire he created from his hands. She placed the back of her hand against his forehead-

Zuko caught her wrist, holding it a little too tightly. Even when ill, he had incredible strength. She winced at the slight pain, prying his fingers away. She bent over until her lips brushed his ear, murmuring sweet nothings. He blinked rapidly and slowly tryied to focus on her face. "Katara?"

A chill ran up her spine when hearing the way he said her name. She leaned back, smiling, then lightly pushed him to roll over onto his back. Katara pulled one of two vials from her neck, bending the water from the Spirit Oasis in the North Pole. She transferred it from her palm into Zuko's chest, praying that the special properties of the water would have the same effect on Zuko that it had on Aang. Zuko stiffened and bit his lip before the lines from his perpetual scowl relaxed, the pain quickly disappearing. She couldn't help but smile again. He looked like he did when she saw him three months earlier: young, happy, and at peace.

As she continued with the healing session, Katara frowned. "Internal bleeding," she said to herself, thinking aloud. Her frown of confusion quickly turned into one of frustration. The spirit water wasn't working as she hoped. Blood didn't flow correctly through his wounded heart. His torn lungs were full of blood and water. The knotted energy caused by the lightning constricted his muscles and slowed the healing process. He was dying.

Zuko was dying.

She bit her lips. What if she tried blood blending? Perhaps she could fix- No. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the idea. That could only make Zuko's injury worse.

Or it could heal him.

"What are you thinking about?"

Katara raised her gaze, half of her face hiding behind her hair. She didn't moved as he tucked her bangs behind her ear, his eyes never leaving hers. She tried to smile at him, but knew in the way his expression remained still that it wasn't reassuring. Tears threatened to stream down her cheeks. It was as if she were with Jet again; here she was, helpless as someone she loved was dying beneath her hands.

Someone she loved.

"There's internal bleeding, torn tissue," she informed Zuko hesitantly. "The water from the Spirit Oasis isn't..."

Zuko's face remained calm, neutral of emotion. But his fingers tightened into a fist, wrinkling his bed sheets. "Am I dying?"

Katara took a deep breath and answered, "Yes." Her heart broke. "But maybe-"

She stopped, her voice shaking. Zuko struggled to sit up, groaning. He placed his hand atop Katara's where it was resting in her lap. "Katara," he whispered. He pleaded with his eyes. Fierce, golden eyes. Trusting eyes.

"I could try... blood bending," she muttered. In a rush, she cupped her palms around Zuko's burning face. "But it could make things worse. I haven't bended blood since... since we hunted Yon Rha..." She was determined to make him believe that this was dangerous. She wanted him to tell her that she couldn't do such a foolish thing to him when his life was on the line. "I could kill you."

Zuko's eyes lazily closed and he tilted his head into Katara's left hand. He wrapped his fingers around her other wrist, then lightly brought it to his lips. Katara's skin tingled where he kissed her. "I trust you."

She nodded. Hearing him say those words gave her more courage than hearing Aang call encouragingly out to her before she began training to become the Chieftess of the Southern Water Tribe. Katara gently guided Zuko down until he was once again flat on his back. Her hands poised over his bare, scarred chest, she demanded, "Tell me if I hurt you."

Zuko didn't respond, waiting. She looked toward the moon, imagining the immense power she had held on those two occasions in which she had bended the blood in someone's body; in which she had had complete and utter control over another person. She moved her hands fluidly, inches above Zuko's chest. His body stiffened and his wide eyes watched her with slight apprehension.

Katara could feel the blood. It was warmer than regular water, more alive. Her eyebrows creased together as she tried to sort through his internal wounds. A painful hiss escaped Zuko's lips.

What if this didn't work? What if she were only making things worse? Fearful for Zuko's life, she stilled her left hand above him, holding his blood in place. She scrambled for the second vial and pried it open with her teeth. She remembered healing Aang after Azula had shot him with lightning. She could do this, couldn't she? She brought Aang back from the dead. She could keep Zuko among the living. She could save him.

Her mind flashed to a world where he wasn't alive anymore: she marries Aang, and he is absent at their wedding. She has her first child, and he isn't able to take on the role of a godfather. Sokka gets married, and he isn't the best man. Toph falls in love, has a daughter. Katara's first daughter finds a boyfriend. Her second son becomes a soldier. Republic City rises. He isn't there, for any of it.

Katara's breath caught. Would she really marry Aang? Somehow, she was beginning to think that maybe she wouldn't. If Zuko was alive, maybe-

She glanced at the moon again, both for assurance and to stop herself from thinking any farther. Suddenly she knew what to do. She bended the blood and water together without thinking about what exactly she was doing. She felt as if Yue was beside her, and before she realized what she had done, her hands were once again in her lap and the scar on Zuko's chest wasn't so horrid.

The color slowly seeped back into Zuko's face. He was asleep, comfortable and relaxed. Katara glanced out the window in curiosity. She wasn't sure if the spirits had guided her or not, but either way... Thank you.

Katara watched Zuko for a few minutes to ensure he wouldn't spontaneously die, tucking the bed sheets around him. When she moved to stand and leave, she found her fingers intertwined with his. Surprised, she looked at Zuko's face, expecting him to be asleep.

His eyes were open. They bore into hers with an indecipherable passion. His mouth formed words but it took a few tries for him to speak. "Thank you."

She nodded, smiling, and found her own eyes were beginning to water. Katara bent her head in embarrassment, then stood.

Zuko's hold on her tightened. He tugged her lightly, pulling her to him. "Stay."

Katara's heart jumped. His hand was warm around hers. Where their skin touched, Katara tingled. She saw him gaze at her intently. The familiar flutter in her stomach erupted into an unfamiliar heated longing as she crawled beneath the covers.

She laid her head on his shoulder. As she fell asleep, dreaming of his fiery gold eyes, she didn't think of Aang.

Neither did he.

He woke up with their fingers intertwined. As he awoke, looking into her bright blue He didn't think of Mai.

Neither did she.