A/N: I've been re-watching Avatar while I wait for the next LoK episode. I've been really into Zutara again and I thought that for all the Blue Spirit/Katara stories out there, there aren't enough Zuko/Painted Lady ones. Cue AU (canon divergence) where Zuko gets tired of being home with a crazy sister and an homicidal father (and with his favorite uncle in prison), so he slips out of the palace through the 'secret river' Aang talks about in The Headband, and meets with the Gaang. This was supposed to be a one-shot but then I saw all the possibilities and … yeah.

.

.

Prologue

.

.

The river is brown and the sky is dark. Katara feels sad and she doesn't know why.

"We can't see even see the sun," Sokka complains, but he pulls his master schedule and says that they need to move on already, they don't have all day. The fish they buy are anything but fresh, but her brother gives her a look and she knows she'll have to spend some time cleaning out the rotting parts.

A boy asks her for food, looking up at her; from where she stands, she can see the hollow of his collarbones, the split of his dry lip. She fists her hands and picks purple berries on the way back to where they've left Appa. She makes sure to slip the biggest ones into her pocket without anyone seeing.

In another place, Zuko packs a bag and visits the prison. He hasn't hugged a wall for so long in a while; when he gets to Iroh, he is tired and his legs are cramping up, but he assumes the rightful sitting position. His back is straight. His hands are open, resting on his knees. He asks for forgiveness and tells him he is going to leave.

"I'll be back for you," he promises, in a whisper. Iroh says nothing and it hurts far more than if he cursed Zuko out.

The boy slips out the same way he got in, and this time he knocks out the guards as he goes out (he feels a small dab of satisfaction when he thinks of Azula's face, twisted and angry and blue, like her fire). He sinks deep into the prison's sewer and holds his breath as he dives. Zuko breathes through his mouth when he emerges, always quiet and always attentive. He's done things like this before, but this is different. Perhaps because he's never wanted to leave the palace; just return to it. The irony of escaping home doesn't get lost on him.

He melds one iron bar off and melds it back after he's out of the pipe. It's a long and arduous task but he doesn't want anyone to know how he got out. He doesn't want Azula to track him down, her long, sharp nails slicing across the air when she sets into position, flexing her fingers once, twice, crackling in the air.

When Zuko finally reaches the outer walls of the Caldera, he pulls a cloak out of his bag. It's dark-red, non-descript, cheap. It's got nothing of regal. It's perfect.

He lets his hair fall across his forehead and thinks, this is it.

"We used to be a fishing village," Xu (or Dock or Bushi) says, strangely lucid for a few moments. Katara looks up from her cup of tea, a bowl rudely cut out of stone. It's a little cold and a little too watery, but she doesn't complain. Sokka and Toph are arguing about what's more important – potty breaks or waking up earlier? Toph loudly states that she's going to potty break him if he doesn't shut up soon. Sokka turns a little green and sips the rest of his tea quietly. "The lands around us are not as fertile as before, and the sun hasn't come out in weeks." He looks behind her head, into the sky, into the clouds. "We've lost the protection of the Painted Lady."

Katara asks him about the Painted Lady and he tries selling them a figure of her. It's nothing fancy, nothing like the neat, polished figurines she's seen in Ba Sing Se, but when she takes it and turns it in her palm, she's surprised at the detailed red marks across her face, across her shoulders. Her back has two small ridges, a slow curve for a shoulder blade. For a doll made out of cheap fabric and wood, she is beautiful.

She buys it despite Sokka's and Toph's complaints about spending unnecessary money.

"Who was it who bought three feet of paper just to write a schedule?"

"She's got you there, ponytail."

They return to Appa, empty-handed because all the medicine is shipped straight to the factory, and make changes to the schedule for a while. Toph is the first to fall asleep; Sokka is the last. Katara doesn't. Instead, she gets up and stares at her hands, feeling helpless. And then her eyes catch onto the figurine, dully staring ahead, her quiet smile knowing.

Of course.

It takes him two hours to get to the farthest eastern point of the Capital. He knows the small village well – it's where he used to catch the boat to Ember Island, before. Thankfully, it's been long enough that the villagers don't find it strange for a boy to request a boat. The only captain who'll take him is old and tired and tells him he'll only take him until Crescent Island. Any further and they'll be trespassing into Earth Country and he doesn't want to meet any fire-benders on the way. Zuko takes it; he pays him immediately. He doesn't know where he's going, exactly, but he does know he wants to get as away from the Capital as possible.

"Wake me up when we get there," Zuko says, and leans against the side of the boat. He doesn't take his swords out of his back, even if it is uncomfortable.

"Give it half a day or so," the captain replies, "the waters have been calm lately."

He thinks of one dark hand on his cheek and says nothing, just curls his body tighter.

Katara's hands are shaking as she washes her face clean of sand and red paint. The sky is dark and heavy but she feels the pull of the moon, feels the adrenaline rush. She's so worn, so tired, after spending the night healing the sick, but she's never felt as good. She slips into her sleeping bag and closes her eyes.

The following day, the village is cheerful, and they set a statue of the Painted Lady in the middle of the plaza. Katara smiles and feels a little smug (although she'd never admit it to anyone), until Sokka opens his mouth.

"Without her, they'll just go back to where they were," he says, and Katara gives him a look. Deep down, she knows he's right. The fact that she's tired and sleepy and she hasn't seen the sun ever since they got here only makes it harder for her to admit he is.

That night, she gets up again. Toph's eyes flicker, and Katara's breath gets stuck on her throat but, ultimately, the younger girl doesn't wake up. Instead, it's Aang who does. Katara wonders if this is the price to pay for impersonating a spirit – having to run from an excited Avatar as he spouts nonsense about being friends with spirits. She doesn't want him to find out she's not the Painted Lady – she's just Katara. But she's doing the best she can.

Aang catches up to her eventually, quick air-bender boy that he is. Katara expects him not to understand, expects him to drone on how she lied to everyone, but Aang doesn't. She's surprised – and then remembers Aang is the best one in their group at lying.

The two of them sneak into the factory and wreak havoc. Aang looks far more amused than he should be, and Katara almost wants to remind them that this is for the greater good, not for their personal diversion, but then she decides it's best if she doesn't.

"Get up, boy," the captain says, leaning over. Zuko's hand is on one of his swords immediately, the other on the floor, ready to propel him up, ready to fight. The old man doesn't even blink, just reaches a hand to help him up. Zuko doesn't take it.

"Where are we?" he asks, a little too commanding for just a regular boy.

The sea wolf gives him a glance and points behind him. "Jang Hui. We passed Shu Jing a while ago."

"I thought you would take me to Crescent Island, at least," Zuko argues.

"The Avatar was sighted in Hanggai Village just last week. He infiltrated a school there." The man takes a puff out of his pipe and makes a face at the other islands, the ones further away. "The island is crawling with fire nation army. I'm not going near it." Then, he turns and looks at Zuko. He speaks with agonizing slowness, like a man who does not know if what he will say is right or wrong: "What about you, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko feels his ears burn. "If you knew, why did you accept bringing me here?"

"I feel that this war has gone on for long enough." His eyes stick on the scar. They are brown, dark. "Perhaps this will change things. Perhaps it won't." Another puff, another cloud of smoke. Zuko is reminded of Iroh, of the steaming cup between his hands. "It won't hurt to try."

"If you tell anyone where I am, you will be branded a traitor for helping me. It won't matter if you say I threatened you or coerced you." His voice is tight. "You'll die a dishonorable death."

"Honor is overrated," the captain says, and waits until Zuko is on the dock, walking away, to fire up the engines.

Sokka and Toph have found out about everything by the time they get to camp. Katara is greeted by Sokka with an angry dialogue and a lot of arm-waving. They're packing up – she's in the middle of thinking furiously about what she can do to make them stay – when fire nation soldiers head into Jang Hui.

"Did you even think this through?" Sokka asks, and Katara screams into his face about never turning her back on people who need her.

"If being the Painted Lady is the only way I have to help, then I'll become the Painted Lady and I will help them!"

She starts heading down the ridges when Sokka grabs her by the arm. Katara becomes ready to hiss and roll her shoulder away when he says he's going with her. Eventually she folds, because they are brother and sister and because she can't make it on her own. No matter how much she tries to, she is only a water-bender and she can't take fifteen soldiers on her own.

Not yet. Maybe one day. For now, however, only the Painted Lady can take fifteen soldiers on her own.

It's the noise that makes him halt. Zuko sets the thick foliage aside and glances down below. He can't help but to grimace – Jang Hui is in the middle of an army visit. He sits down, lets his legs hang off the edge, and tells himself he doesn't really feel anything, as he watches the metal hooks bite onto the house foundations, bringing them down. Zuko is a terrible liar.

He takes in the numbers. There are about twelve of them, all wearing the customary uniform for the islands – sleeveless tops for the heat and humidity. If memory doesn't fail, that's General Mung in the front. Ruthless and proud and competitive, but not half as good as Zhao. He wonders if he can take them all. He's good, but he's not that good, and there is no way for him to win if he only uses his swords. Zuko fiddles with the collar of his cloak, indecisive, but overall calm, and he's about to jump off the edge and into the water—he could do it, he could kill them if he tried hard enough—when he sees her.

He thinks of his uncle's stories first, and of the water-bender girl second (he doesn't know why).

Zuko's not a superstitious person, but his arms tense when the Painted Lady leans, striking across the river's tepid and brown water.

The air around her deflects the first two soldier's fire balls. She pads onto one of the docks and the wind blows. It's all it takes to make them flee. She's faster, though, striking at their ships, embedding them into the walls of the canyon. The battle with the lower-ranked officer is over in less than one minute. Zuko watches her movements and feels as though he's supposed to remember something.

Mung, however, has a title and an ego. He remains behind even as his soldiers run for the boats the Painted Lady has not yet destroyed. He spins and delivers a fire arch, a little weak, and in the following second she is high above him, her dark hair whipping. He doesn't have time to avoid the burst of the dock, and he is thrown into the water. Zuko unwillingly leans forward, as Mung swims in his direction. It's the only part of the canyon that is sliding, the only part of the canyon anyone would be able to climb on this side. Zuko curses and gets up, runs to the side as he mechanically reaches into his bag, searching for his mask. Mung can't see his face. He'd recognize him immediately.

The general reaches land and doesn't give up despite the frightened shiver of his arms. Zuko holds his breath and stills; he doesn't want Mung to hear him.

The Painted Lady nears, walking across the water, and Zuko thinks he hears someone shout out a name in a worried fashion, but then Mung fires at her. He feels his fingers tighten – but the Painted Lady raises one hand and a wall of murky, dirty ice comes up. The fireball sizzles precariously, vanishing with a hiss. Mung does it again, and again, but she doesn't stop walking.

"—tara! Stop!"

This time, Zuko is sure someone is shouting; he can hear the echoes. But he pays no mind and just presses against the tree tighter, one hand inside his bag and the other closed tightly. The Painted Lady falls from the water and into the ground, gritting her teeth. Only now does Zuko notice how small she is. How small her shoulders are, with their many red lines. From under her hat, he can see her red-tinted chin, the way it juts out when she curses Mong.

"You will never return here," the Painted Lady says. Her voice is pitched deep and angry, but nothing like he thought a spirit would sound.

Mung is on the floor, when she turns away, sinking into the river once more, and then he raises his hand, widens his wet eyes, targets the space between her shoulder blades –

No.

She's halfway into the water, sunk until the waist, when she hears the sound of struggling from behind her. It's drowned out by Aang's voice, who's been calling her from the docks since she's followed after Mung, but it's still loud enough to make her turn. She finds the general's face being pushed against the rocks, his chin bleeding, his right arm twisted backwards. It's still fuming. Katara feels her stomach drop when she realizes she was about to be shot at. Stupid, she thinks, and the water around her turns to ice without her meaning to. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The other man's face is hidden by the hood of his burgundy cloak, but his arms are tense and immobile. She knows he knows how to disarm a man, and clears her throat quietly, trying to reach a lower pitch again. He's clearly not a native – he's far too well-fed and fit for Jang Hui. Katara decides that it's best to return to the docks before Aang calls her again, but she wants to know. More for curiosity than fear; after all, he's just demonstrated himself an ally of the Painted Lady. She bends herself out of the water once more, carefully closing the distance.

"Stay back," he says, gruffly, pulling on Mung's arm a little harsher. The older man grits his teeth and groans. "I've done nothing to offend you, spirit."

Katara could recognize that voice anywhere. With no previous thought, she bends a water whip at his face; he can't even see it coming, because of the hood.

"Shit," Zuko lets out, in a whisper, when the fabric falls down. He's not even concerned about her. Instead, he pushes Mung's face deeper into the floor, making sure the other man can't see who he is.

It takes all her focus not to arrest him to a tree, all her focus not to slide a disc of ice into his neck.

"Spirit," he says, without looking into her eyes, "let us go."

She steps aside, makes a hand motion for the water, signaling the boat waiting a long way back. "Your soldiers are waiting for you," she says, icy cold like the water around her feet. "What are you waiting for?"

Zuko lets Mung go in a smooth movement, pulling down his hood as fast as his sister's lightning. Mung doesn't even wait – he dives into the water and swims to the boat, looking every bit like a sea-lion in a panic. Katara follows him with her eyes until he's gone, and then she turns to Zuko. He's standing up, staring into her eyes. It amuses her that he's not afraid of a spirit. He wouldn't, she thinks. Even after the North Pole, he wouldn't be afraid of a spirit. But she's not a spirit. She's a water-bender and she is angry and he is there.

"Give me one reason not to drown you," Katara says, and Zuko's eyes finally widen in recognition.