ch: the way the stars look in your eyes.
characters: aang, azula, katara, iroh, zuko.
notes: i wasn't gonna do this but then i did.

…

iv. eternal winter without your smile
think this over and just don't let it happen
…

There is something empty in her eyes as she shovels things into her backpack, trying as hard as she can to ignore the voice that floats around her. Katara has already made up her mind, and if he respects her, then he will leave her be, because this is her choice.

But he doesn't stop. "Katara, please," he pleads, tips himself over from where he is perched in Appa's giant saddle. Even the sky bison is aware of some presence, because he twitches and groans in even spaces of time, flaps his tail anxiously.

At least Zuko has stopped trying to grab her, trying to stop her. That had hurt the most, because Katara shuddered every time his hand passed through her as he made futile snatches at her wrists, desperate grabs to encircle her waist and keep her anchored. Part of her wanted him to animate with life and pull her into his embrace, but the rest of her had been so far out of his reach that she felt nothing but hollowness. Katara taps her nails against the bulge of her waterskin, feeling the fullness of it before she pushes it into her bag.

"Azula is dangerous, you can't go alone," he swivels his body as she hoists her backpack onto her shoulder, climbs up into the saddle with a flick of her hair, but as much as she wants to look away from Zuko, he is there, staring back at her avidly.

Katara thinks about the way his mouth felt on hers and wonders if she imagined it all because she wanted it so much, in that moment. She wonders how much she can get away with daydreaming with her eyes wide open and Zuko's golden gaze pinned onto her. She returns it with nothing but dark, dark eyes and an intensity that makes her feel strong. She should be thinking about nothing other than her strength going into this battle, but all that is on her mind as she watches Zuko is that she will be trying to dismantle his sister.

"I won't be alone," she says pointedly, holding his stare for a few moments, and she sees softness in his eyes before they harden and shift into translucence again. Katara backs herself out of the saddle and slides down to grab the reins, because she doesn't have to finish his sentence—he knows because it is he who will accompany her.

…

v. when the comets' music plays on
smokin' fire and lullabies and everything will change
…

Azula is fast, but Katara is faster.

Azula is insane, but Katara is deluded with hope, and there is nothing more powerful, nothing more truly insane than the belief that impossible things can still happen, with time.

Her fire is blue brilliance, though, Katara thinks, because whenever she slams a rolling wave of water at her, the fire that spills from the collision beads sweat along her shoulders, dripping down the trench of her spine. The only sort of fire she'd seen up close had been Zuko's fire, smoky wisps of clear blue that shifted into colorful reds. Azula's fire, however, is chilling and overwhelming all at once, and nothing at all like her brother's.

The Princess skates towards Katara, propelled by flame and each of her sickly laughs slowly unhinges something inside of her. Katara braces herself, stretches her fingers and feels the water underneath her feet, traces it like veins in the ground until she can sense the heart of it, surging only a few yards away from her.

Katara turns to look over her shoulder, eyes scanning the Coronation Plaza and the grate that tiles the floor nearby, and she can see Zuko; she hadn't been sure he'd follow her all the way here to watch this battle, she was sure it would hurt him too much, but he was standing there over the only source of water in the entire plaza. That, that was not a coincidence.

But something about his features drip into horror and Katara doesn't have the time to figure it out; heat blooms over her shoulder and she drops to the ground, blue fire jetting out in plumes over her head. He yells something, she's sure that it was him, and she's surprised to see Azula freeze.

"What was that?" Paranoia threads in her voice and she glances around Katara, and she takes the opportunity; her fingers flex and water floods the plaza across the ground, coils itself around her ankles and freezes up to the brace of her knees, and Azula gives a wild, caged cry.

Her insistent mumbles start out quiet, frantic as she tugs her hands in circles, rapid movements that concern Katara because there is no fire coming from her palms like she expects, but the waterbender only works on freezing, tries to pick through strategies. She is not ready for blood on her hands, but she does not know how to subdue Azula.

Something crackles against the sharp tips of her nails and Katara only has a few moments to realize, to recognize the static of lightning in her hands. She'd never seen a firebender create lightning before, and it glows like the blue of her own eyes.

"Katara!" Zuko's voice shatters her stunned silence, and it echoes so loudly that Azula has the nerve to look jarred once more, but it doesn't stop her. She points her fingers, a singular act of condemnation, and lets go of the cold blooded fire, manically precise control over it until it makes a jagged streak towards Katara.

Time slows for several seconds as it passes in front of her, each flutter of light and electricity in front of her preparing to wrap around her and electrocute her to her death, but red and gold streak past her.

For what drags on like an eternity, Zuko traps Azula's lightning in the cage of his chest, and Katara can almost smell the way his clothes burn. But she waits, because everything passes through, nothing is safe this way; she waits for the lightning to pierce through him and splinter her into pieces, and she feels tears drip like torrential rain down her face, because she hadn't been able to do this for Aang, and she does not want this on his shoulders.

It never happens.

Zuko drops in front of her, and he is so solid, so real that Katara feels an acute pain in her heart. But the corner of her vision flickers and Azula is moving towards her, and there is something of a storm brewing in her chest because Katara screams as she lifts an ocean of dirty water from the grate and sweeps it over the ground; it passes over Zuko, drenching him, and blasts into Azula, encompassing her.

And Katara freezes it suddenly, the Princess' entire body swept up in a wave carved from ice. She contemplates freezing her blood, icicles under her skin and watching her turn blue, like her fire, like Katara's eyes, like the ocean Zuko had dragged himself from, but she doesn't. Instead, she coils a water whip around the chain that holds the grate closed, tugs it towards her.

She releases her hold, and Azula collapses into a puddle of gasping, wheezing fire. Katara ducks behind her, loops the chain around her wrists and freezes it to the ground, chest heaving. But Azula's eyes don't move from the unmoving figure splayed along the ground, and Katara wonders whether Azula's insanity enables her to see her brother's corpse.

Katara wonders if she is insane (she hasn't stopped crying, yet, because she can't, she doesn't even know why). She crawls over to Zuko, hands raw and soaked with water, hair dripping over her shoulder, and when she curls herself next to him, passing her hand over the space above his body, her fingers shake. She wants so badly to clamp down on him and see, to know if this is another illusion, but she wants him to stay this way—sacrificial and barely breathing in her mind's eye.

She slams her hand down onto his chest and he groans painfully and it is solid and he is alive. Katara cries as she slips water in between the burned fringes of cloth, covers another scar on his chest and drips her own tears onto his body. (And she wipes them away, because she can touch him.)

Pressure knots under his skin and she holds her water still for a few seconds before it dissipates; Zuko lets out a sigh of relief, the tension draining from his body immediately, and his eyes open—brilliant, comet-bright yellow. Maybe, maybe she sees the shadow of a smile on his lips, smooth and pale, but it is his hand that reaches up to touch the side of her face.

His hands are so warm, and Katara cries even harder.

"I've always wanted to do that," he mumbles, the words smeared between the lazy movement of his lips, and Katara marvels over the way he speaks, the sound of his voice from his lips. His lips.

She teeters over him before she crushes her mouth down over his, tears blinking from her eyes and falling onto his cheeks, and his hand slides into his hair at her sudden movements. Zuko freezes against the feeling of her lips, but he relaxes after a moment, and Katara lets her head tip to the side, rest in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

"What, touch me?" she whispers shyly, flushing.

"Protect you," his fingers tap out a soothing rhythm against her skull, hair tangled in his nails and the callousness of his fingers, "I have been trying ever since we met, and you have been hurt so many times…"

Katara doesn't have the strength to pick herself up and kiss him the way she wants, so she turns her head against the line of his jaw and presses her lips there. "I'm not now," and it is I love you, in her own way, without saying those words, it is thank you.

His arm curls around her waist and Katara thinks she would rather die than let go of him now.

…

vi. and it's me and you, alone
my love is right here for you when you need it
…

She wants to call it pride swelling in her chest, but it is something so bitter and selfish that resides there when Aang shows up and her fingers are laced between the spaces of Zuko's.

"I didn't know Fire Lord Ozai had other children," Aang says, leaning in to peer at the narrow, scarred face watching him back with similar interest. Zuko tilts himself back and Katara is pulled back with him, simply because she hasn't stopped holding his hand or touching his cheek or kissing the frequent pout of his mouth, not since he trapped lightning in his chest and became so very real to her.

"I'm not exactly a family favorite," he announces with a wry smile, shifting slightly but careful not to displace Katara's weighty presence at his side, a notion that she appreciates. "I, um, Katara told me that you traveled with my uncle, General Iroh."

It is marginally strange to be in the Fire Nation Royal Palace, but all at once, she feels like she is right where she belongs. Something in Katara's chest warms and cracks, spilling heat into her skin, at the thought of Iroh seeing his nephew again. She doesn't speak of what she and Zuko have, how long they have known each other, because it should be exceptionally radiant, the way they are interconnected.

"Iroh taught me firebending," Aang grins, lines his body with a stance that Katara has seen dozens of times, and pushes his hand forward. Fire curls out, jetting towards the two of them, but it splits before it reaches them, heating around them and dissipating.

Katara feels him shift and when she turns her head, he is smiling like a ghost, and she flexes her grip on his hand just to make sure he is still there; he looks up at her with those sunshine eyes and she knows, and she is glad.

Heat spikes at her side, and Katara manages to look away from the sharp contours of his face towards the curtained entrance. "He came to the capital with me to square things away!" She rubs her thumb along the back of his hand, and lets go of his hand because she has thought of this moment for so long.

Iroh stares as if he has seen the ghost of his very own son (and perhaps he has).

Neither of them quite move as much as they collide, as much as Zuko's arms fling around his uncle's stout shoulders and Iroh's hands fist against the thick material of his robes, scratching along the bandages Katara had pulled tight around his abdomen.

Aang takes a few steps away, and Katara sidles up to his side to watch the two of them. She wonders if there are questions that brim on the edge of Iroh's lips the way there were when she'd first looked into the depths of the ocean and Zuko stared back at her. "I kind of wish you traveled with us, Zuko," Aang laughs, a nervous tint in his voice, "it would have been a lot easier."

Katara smiles, thinking of not-quite kisses and gentle touches and snow prints and transparent fire. "He was there, every step of the way."

The Avatar eyes her curiously, but Katara knows, and Iroh knows, and Zuko knows; that is all she needs to keep her content.

…

notes: i wrote this at 5am so take it with a grain of salt, i'm just saying, friends. so a lot of people left comments about continuing this and i thought about it, and at the time i was pretty against it. but the other day i had a flash of brilliance (or maybe insanity) and this came to me. i hope this is a better ending than the last! someone asked me about the title, and i just really like space and i spend a lot of time thinking about it, and i thought about how comforting looking at the stars can be even though they're tremendously far away.