One

Katara knew that all good things had to come to an end, but this was too good, and it had ended too soon. For the past few months, she had watched her relationship with Aang crumble from a wonderful, lively union to a messy rubble of one sided respect. Her nights, which used to be filled with giggles and soft kisses by the fire, had become cold and lonely. Goodnight, honey, I love yous became nights spent in silence choking back tears. She had worked so hard—so damn hard!—to give him everything he wanted. She gave him space; she held his hand. She seduced; she abstained. But no matter what she did, it was never the right thing. It was always "Katara, please, I need" this or that.

It hadn't always been that way. Things were great at first—better than she ever could have asked for. She and Aang spent six long, happy years together after the war. Six years wasn't something to be taken lightly. Katara knew people who met and were married in that time. And it just didn't make sense! People didn't spend seven years of their lives together and then just decide it was over. Sure they'd hit a rough patch, but doesn't every couple have that?

Katara stood on the balcony of the house on Ember Island, bitterly recalling Aang's abrupt departure from both the island and their relationship. They had plans to spend the week there. To get away from everything—everyone. A whole week to ignore all of their responsibilities and just relax and enjoy each other's company. Though it was never said aloud—a whole week to fix it. But less than three days into their stay, Aang stood next her on this very balcony and said; "I have to go to the Earth Kingdom."

That in itself, in any other context, time or place, wouldn't have been a problem. They travelled almost constantly. But this was their week. They'd been planning this vacation for a month. "Aang," she'd said. "You're not serious, are you? You aren't making us leave halfway through— "

"I'm not making you leave," he cut her off. "I think it's better if you stay here."

His words stung. "So, this is how it ends?" Her voice was flat, emotionless. She fixed her eyes on the horizon, knowing that if she looked into his cool, grey eyes, she would lose her composure completely.

"I can pick you up on my way back. I'll get you back to the Southern Water Tribe before—"

"No." It was her turn to cut him off. With her eyes still on the water, she told him that she didn't want him to pick her up. She didn't want to see him. At least not for a while. "Just go."

She knew she hurt him, but she truly felt nothing but distain for him. For an hour she hated the man that her sweet, caring, good boyfriend had become. She hated that he demanded her attention and understanding, while simultaneously seeming indifferent to her needs and beliefs. She hated that he left silently, without pleading for her to forgive him. She hated that he was gone and he was still making her feel like she was the one in the wrong. She hated him for every night she laid awake, cold and forgotten in her corner of the bed they shared. She hated him for every time she fell asleep unsatisfied because he had gotten what he wanted. She hated him for every morning that she woke up feeling safe and warm in his arms. What an incredible lie that was. Now, Katara had come to realize that she was no safer with him than she would have been with anyone else. No warmer with him. Everything that she thought was special—everything that she thought the universe had created for just them—was a beautiful, terrible lie that she told herself because aside from Aang, all she knew was loneliness. He was the first person to hold her through a night. The first one to kiss her and tell her that everything would be alright.

Something within her chest pulled her to call out to him. To run up to him and kiss him goodbye one last time. Just to turn around and watch him go. But the heaviness that weighed down her very heart kept her frozen with her gaze cast steadfast on the mist that rose up from the sea.

And hours later, she stood on the very same balcony, a cramp twinging between her shoulder blades. She hadn't moved; had barely breathed. The sun had begun to set and the sky was set ablaze with a million colors that only shone over the Fire Nation. The uncomfortable warmth and dampness of the air around her made her thin, silk robe stick to the back of her neck. Her neck! She reached underneath her hair and unclasped the orange silk engagement necklace that Aang had so carefully carved for her. They had been riding out their engagement for going on two years. Aang said he wasn't in a hurry to get married. His patience had frustrated her. She wanted a wedding—she wanted the white dress and the flowers and the dancing and the wine. Now, she was grateful for his hesitance. If they had married before things fell apart, she would be forced to live a life of unhappiness. She held the pendant in her palm.

Happiness. The emotion that was furthest from her body at that moment. How she craved the naivety and hope that she held within her that morning. Just hours ago everything was fine! But it wasn't. Things hadn't been fine for a while, and she knew that. But, oh, how she wished it had been. She wished from somewhere deep, deep in her chest that she could be lying next to him, breathing on his chest and playing with his fingers. Like she used to. Like they used to.

But he was gone and she was here. Stranded. She didn't want to be here—not alone, anyway. The place reeked of bittersweet nostalgia. She hadn't been here in years; the last time her bare feet had touched Ember Island sand, she had been surrounded by her friends. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear Toph's laugh, feel Suki braiding her hair, smell Zuko's scent. But Katara did not close her eyes, because she knew that Toph's laugh had matured and Suki spent her evenings braiding her daughter's hair.

And Zuko? Katara hadn't been that close to him since his coronation, when she gave him a goodbye hug and they went their separate ways. Since then, she had been careful to keep her distance from him. She would greet him with a smile and a nod, hold amicable conversations across the dinner table, and sign her letters to him with an extra swish of ink under her name. Of course, she considered him to be a friend—one of her best friends, really—but she had always felt there was an unspoken rule that as the Avatar's girlfriend, she had to be wary of her relationships with other men. She couldn't risk rumors that she was cheating on Aang, so she largely withdrew from most of her intimate friendships regardless of how platonic they were.

Drifting from Zuko was one of the hardest things she had to do. Their relationship had been strange to say the least. She hated him, but eventually the hate gave way to a deep-rooted feeling of attachment. They had so much in common and understood each other on a level that she had never known with anyone else—not even Aang. But she loved Aang, and the world loved Aang. And Katara had to make the decision to appease both her family and the world.

Katara shook her head. Aang never told her she had to stop talking to Zuko. Or Haru. Or anyone for that matter. It was her choice to sever her relationships with all of her friends in order to—what?—uphold the greater good? Now looking back at it, it was all bullshit. She hadn't felt like herself since the war ended. At that thought, Katara laughed. Maybe she just didn't know herself—her real self. And suddenly, she felt a new emotion slowly spreading from her fingertips to her chest: relief. She exhaled and blinked a long, hard blink, as if to clear years of fog from her sight. I'm free, she thought. Free from the pressure of being the Avatar's girlfriend, free from all the constraints that she had placed on herself.

Breaking up was liberating. Sad, strange, and hurtful—but so incredibly liberating. She didn't feel better; no that wasn't the right word. Different, maybe. But not better.

Rolling her shoulders, Katara turned away from the sea and walked back into the house. She hadn't bothered to light any candles before Aang left, and hadn't been inside since, so the whole house was eerily quiet and dark. This used to be a place full of life and color, and seeing it this empty made Katara feel uncomfortable. The Ember Island house was one of the few places that Katara truly felt at home. Never had she felt a greater sense of community and belonging than she did in that house. Not even in the Southern Water Tribe. She imagined this was what it felt like to go back to an old home after moving to a new one. There were so many memories engrained into the wood that made up the walls and the furniture. Some of them weren't even hers to remember, but they sprang to life as she ran her fingertips along the door frame. For a brief moment in her mind, Katara saw a young Zuko and an even younger Azula playing with blocks on the floor. She saw a mother giving warm hugs and a father trying to hide a proud smile; a brother playing peek-a-boo and a baby sister giggling. She placed her own family there, wondering what it would have been like to spend a weekend with her mother within these walls. There would have been comfort food on the stove and card games in the living room.

Through the dark, Katara smiled. She felt silly for so fondly recalling something that never happened. Despite the embarrassment that crept up her spine, Katara decided that her mother would have very much enjoyed this house, and that they would have spent every weekend here together if they could. She sat down on the bed—the one that she and Aang had shared just hours before—and stretched her back. Just as her spine cracked, she heard a thud followed by a soft string of curse words coming from the living room.

In that moment, every instinct in her body that got her through the war came alive once again. Katara stood up without a sound and walked softly to the door of the bedroom. She was relatively familiar with the layout of the house, but not enough so to feel comfortable. Her pupils dilated, and her body steadied to a familiar state of muted panic. She could take whoever it was, and she knew that. This was her zone: the adrenalin rush that came with the threat of danger was comforting. She liked it. It felt like home.

The voice was still whispering a series of curse words, and was getting steadily louder—closer. Her eyes, now well-adjusted to the darkness, picked up a glow coming from the left of the door. Fire. She waited, her palm pressed to the wall, for the intruder to come close enough for her to strike. The air was humid—a decent source of water. She could easily bend enough from the air to freeze whoever this was. That was the plan. As the fireglow grew brighter, and the intruder closer, Katara calculated and steadied herself. She took a deep breath, then launched herself around the corner, and hit the intruder square in the chest with a gallon of water that she'd pulled out of thin air. The man hit the floor with another thud, and a harsh, guttural growl. Before she knew what was going on, Katara was on top of him, her foot pressed firmly to his chest and an ice dagger held in her hand—when had she made that? She didn't remember.

"Its me," the man said, still trying to catch his breath. "It's just me."

"Zuko?" Katara took her weight off of him and took a step back. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Its my house," he replied, sitting up. "I come here on the weekends some times." He raised his hands and wiped his face. "What are you doing here?" He rose to his feet tiredly, as if he had been haggard by weeks of rough seas.

Katara scoffed and let the ice dagger in her hands melt. "He didn't even bother to tell you." She folded her arms across her stomach and turned her back to the man gathering himself at her side.

"Where's Aang?"

"On his way to the Earth Kingdom." Her voice came faster and louder than she intended. She wasn't quite startled at the sharpness of her own voice, but she had to admit it felt good to sound as angry as she felt.

From behind her, Katara heard a flame ignite with a quiet puff and the creaking of the weathered floor boards. A soft, flickering light cast shadows through the hall. This amount of light would have been negligible if her eyes hadn't been accustomed to the dark, but in that moment, the gentle glow was all but blinding and it stung her eyes—or was that from the tears she was holding back. "There wasn't another riot was there?"

"Its not 'official' Avatar business." Her throat tightened. Her voice wavered.

Embarrassment.

"Oh." Zuko's voice was soft. Hoarse almost.

"Yeah." Her arms dropped to her sides as she turned around. "I'll get our—my—stuff from the bedroom so you can have it." She brushed past him on her way into the master bedroom. The red silk sheets and gold trimmed pillows always seemed so—seductive to her; like something out of a racy romance story. Zuko followed behind her, gently protesting that she could sleep there, that she didn't need to move her things. But Katara didn't want to sleep in that room. Not on those sheets. Not on those pillows.

As Katara stuffed her clothes into her wide brown bag, Zuko made his way around the room lighting the candles and lanterns that his mother had painstakingly chosen to compliment the furniture and curtains. He rounded the padded bench at the foot of the bed, and his toes stepped on something hard and round. Crouching down, he took the intricate piece of jewelry in his palm. Swirling circular patterns were carved into a smooth, white alabaster shell that had been smoothed into a perfect circle. An orange ribbon about two fingers wide was threaded through a curved hook. Though he wasn't familiar with all Water Tribe and Air Nomad traditions, he knew well enough that this was an engagement necklace. And it shouldn't be on the floor. He stood up without a sound and held the pendant in his open hand.

Katara looked up from her bag and paused for a moment, her eyes fixed on his hand. "Yeah." And she continued packing as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "I just have to get my things from the bathroom and I'll move to the next room." She disappeared into the lavatory and came back a minute later with an armful of soap and brushes and perfumes bottles, which she dumped into her bag all at once. She was clearly not in the business of caring too much. And the piece of jewelry that Zuko held in his hands was most likely the reason for that. "There." Katara put her arm through the strap of her bag and slugged it over her shoulder. "Sorry about this. Again, I'm so sorry."

"No," Zuko said. "Don't be. I didn't tell anyone I was coming." He lit a candle on the bedside table and then made his way around the bed again. "You might want this." He held out the engagement necklace, and she stared at it again.

"No. I don't." She turned to leave.

Zuko closed his hand around her necklace, like he'd done so many years ago. "I'm sorry."

Katara sighed and turned back around. "No," she said. "Don't be. He didn't even bother to tell anyone we were coming here." She looked at him for the first time in what felt like years. His hair was long now, and his face was trimmed with the shadow of a beard. He looked thin—too thin for someone running a country. He mustn't have been eating much any more; she knew the feeling. He looked, to be frank, to be the human equivalent of threadbare—worn nearly through in some spots. Faded and fragile. His eyes were tired. He needed sleep. "I don't want to talk about it. Maybe tomorrow. Over breakfast. I'll cook." Each sentence was almost added as an afterthought.

"You don't have to," he said.

"Talk about it or cook breakfast?"

"Either. Both."

"I'm going to have to talk about it eventually. And I haven't been able to freely use a kitchen since I was here last." She nervously rubbed her thumb along the side of the second knuckle of her forefinger. "So, tomorrow over breakfast?"

Zuko nodded and gave her a quiet whisper of a 'yes.' Then said goodnight as Katara headed out the door into the next room.

Without undressing, Zuko laid on the bed, Katara's necklace still in his hand, and wondered silently to himself what went wrong? He had hoped that Katara and Aang would make it, unlike himself and Mai. Mai had been there for him after the War, and it was hard enough to let her go when the time came and the romance was gone; but Aang had been with Katara through the war. Through the hardest, most insane time in her young life! And for it to be over so suddenly—he couldn't imagine how she must feel. He wanted so badly to help her; to say the one right word that would stop all the hurt he knew she was feeling. But she was in her bedroom and that would be inappropriate. And she probably didn't want to hear it from him. She hadn't talked to him—had a real conversation—in years.

It took a moment for the reality of the situation to sink in to his mind. He was alone on an island with one of his best friends. He needed this—and despite the circumstances, he was grateful that she was there.

And in her room just down the hall, Katara laid in her bed, silently thanking the spirits that Zuko was there with her too.