Every Impossible Thing

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Author's Note: I wish I could say I proofread this, but, alas, I cannot. This has been sitting in my drafts for way too long, and I'm tired of looking at it. But probably still my favorite chapter so far, because Zutara.

A reminder about the setting: this is considered post-series AU, and disregards all comics and LoK. For this story, I do not follow any worldbuilding that takes place outside of A:TLA. I'm the author, you gotta deal with it.

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4. Stars

One Year Ago

The night was bright, densely lit by a fully waxed moon and large torches full of bender's fire. Casting a warm glow over Katara's balcony, the firelight glinted in and out of the winding metalwork of the iron railing.

Beneath her rooms was an outer courtyard and small garden, home to spices and seasonal fruits, with the apartments beside her and above spaced apart.

This slice of privacy was one of her favorite places in the palace. Her rooms were a respite from the labyrinthine halls of the inner court and the pressures of her work. It was also one of few places she could escape the prying eyes of Zuko's courtiers and staff. Privacy was a luxury for anyone who stood as close to the Fire Lord as she did.

Beside him, she lobbied and she pushed reforms. She advised, she dogged at dissenters, she labored into the night, head bent over scrolls and texts as she and Zuko made their plans. They worked until the candles burned low and daylight warmed his office. Everything could be better, and together they had the power to change the legacy of Zuko's dynasty. There was nothing more important than bringing the world into a kinder era. The work was slow and hard and demanding, but worth every sacrifice they made.

From all corners of the world, her friends were shaping the future. Aang and Toph appeared before kings and councils, chiefs and leaders. Sokka traveled between the Tribes, working to mend the chasm and prejudices that fractured the Poles. He sometimes joined Aang and Toph, or spent months at work with his father improving the conditions of the Southern Water Tribe. And from his seat of power, Zuko dismantled a tyranny.

Year by year, effort by effort, things crept in a hopeful direction.

That hoped warmed her, on peaceful, balmy nights like tonight.

Katara bent her chin into her hands, elbows planted on the railing of her balcony. The sleeves of her blue robes pooled around her forearms, hands and wrists bared to the muted heat of Autumn in the Fire Nation.

Zuko's palace in the caldera wasn't quite home to her, yet there was happiness for her here. She missed her brother and her father, whose visits were never long or often enough, her friends, and her home in the South. But she had worked and built a life for herself in the Fire Nation, one she was proud of.

One she would not easily give up – not for all the stars in the sky.

Zuko coughed delicately from behind to announce his presence. Katara turned, taking in the contours of his silhouette. He was all shadows and light like as he stood between her rooms and balcony, awaiting her acknowledgement.

"Well met, Fire Lord," she intoned formally, spine and shoulders straightened in exaggerated deference. She sketched a stiff bow, sweeping her robes back.

Katara laughed as Zuko frowned.

"Was that necessary?" he said to her as she rose and settled back into her own relaxed posture.

Katara grinned. "Yes."

Not thinking her display merited a response, Zuko shook his head and joined her. He curled his hands over the balcony's edge and stood beside her, shoulder to shoulder. He turned his face up. Above, the sky was a riot of light – the moon and the stars and planets all constant and silvery.

Katara didn't ask why he came, and he didn't offer any explanation; he didn't need to. They were together more often than not. Countless nights were spent just like this, in his rooms or in hers, anywhere they could share a quiet moment in the company of a friend.

Their public image had long ago been picked apart by relentless speculation and rumor. The Fire Lord could not have such a close female friendship without an undercurrent of suspicion; it was to be expected and quietly ignored. The gossip, as callous as it was, she found she could weather gracefully enough. Zuko had few allies and ever fewer friends in the palace. She couldn't leave him to be torn down all alone.

It softened Katara to think of all the years he had already spent isolated. Even in her tiny corner of the world, she had been surrounded by those who loved her. She would stand beside him, even if the entire world was turned against them.

"Nice night," she said as she bumped her shoulder against his. "Don't you think?"

He supposed it was. Simple pleasures like this were rare. To Zuko, it made the stars seem more beautiful than he supposed they were. It was a comfort to feel her shoulder beside his, to have this night to share with someone who could understand, even a little, the world be inhabited. The world that took and took and took, always demanding more from him.

She was more than he deserved, and more than he would have ever dared hope for.

"Do you see those?" Zuko asked, pointing toward a cluster of stars overhead.

"There?" Katara reached out a hand, fingers extended like she could scoop them up for him.

"Not quite."

Zuko moved to stand behind her, reaching both arms around to take her hands in his. She tensed for a moment, but relaxed as he lifted her hand to trace the shape he held in his mind.

"Ursa Major," he said, guiding her fingers over each starry edge of the constellation. He cupped her hand between his two, moving them from point to point, star to star. They moved down the long stem and around for the base, forming the body.

Like those stars, she could feel everything within her burn. Where his fingers touched, every nerve seemed to hum with anticipation.

"Ursa Minor." His breath was a whisper against her ear. He inhaled the clean scent of her damp hair, freshly washed and hanging down her back like in a dark curtain.

She shivered as one of his hands released hers, traveling down to rest against her waist. His touch against her was careful. Testing her, she thought.

Is this okay? Is this allowed? it asked.

He turned his face to burrow into hair. Katara gasped, gripping the edge of the balcony. She scrambled for thought, to answer his asking question before her body melted against his and made the decision for her. In fragments she sorted through the details that had to be considered.

Mei and Aang.

Katara and Zuko had not spoken about it in depth, but Mei had been gone for almost two years. It was clear he did not expect her to return. And she hadn't, not in the months or years to follow. Since, Zuko had done his best to ignore the scrutiny that cropped up in Mei's absence.

He did not belong to anyone but himself…and maybe, she thought, to her.

In the end, it was Aang who had brought them to this moment. He saw what grew between his friends and could not let it sleep between the three of them unacknowledged.

He confronted it long before she had the courage to.

"You love him, and you can't even see it," Aang had said. His words were plain-spoken, free of accusation. Her own would have been ugly, filled with all of the hurt and betrayal she could summon.

"You're wrong," she said.

He took it for denial, urging her to open her eyes to what was happening – to them, to her heart, to their friend and to each other. Couldn't she see? How could she not understand?

His goodness turned her whole body hot with shame. It burned her, but not enough to go on pretending nothing had changed. She could see the thing Aang accused her of overlooking. She could feel it, too, like a sunrise from her childhood in the South. Like that golden light as it crept over ice, shining and warm. So gentle and so hopeful, so different from what she had once mistaken as love.

When Aang said she loved someone else and didn't realize it, he was wrong. She could see it. She knew her heart had grown away from his. She couldn't remember what it felt like...to believe she once loved him.

Aang always said he knew her best, but sometimes it seemed he hardly knew her at all. It seemed he never saw how much of her was fire, how much of her burned.

"I love him." Her admission rung through the room, echoing wall-to-wall and back. It dropped between them like a fallen dish. Irreparable. Forever a broken thing.

It was a truth acknowledged for the first time. It was an end. It was also a beginning.

Months had passed. Aang left the Fire Nation shortly after their exchange, Zuko only aware that something between his friends had changed. He didn't ask, and Katara shared only the barest of explanations.

She dove headlong into her work, keeping the truth quietly in the back of her mind. In snatches she tried to sort through it, turning it over and again like a puzzle as it rubbed her emotions raw. She considered, she reviewed, she tried to understand what it meant and what came next. Weeks passed, and then months, as Katara was left with the same realization she started with.

She loved Zuko. If she was being honest, she had probably loved him for a long time.

After the war, they had only been the barest of friends. But years together, sharing the same burdens, quietly changed things between them. Maybe a part of her had always been drawn to him. Their elements could not be more different, but a thread of understanding always seemed to exist between them. It was as though their minds inhabited the same space and only they existed within it.

Instinctually, they orbited each other like twin planets. Like the moon and the sun.

When she had been determined to track down Yon Rha, Zuko hadn't stopped her. She didn't trust him enough then, but he did not press her. He knew which demons dogged at her heels. He allowed her to contend with them, the grief and the anger and the hatred. He did not preach to her or judge her.

Zuko saw every vicious thing she felt...and he accepted her. He stood beside her as if to say, I'm here with you. Do what you need to do. Whatever the outcome.

It was part of what she needed to let go. Not of everything and not forever, but there, in the rain and with him, she closed a chapter.

So much had changed. So much was different.

Zuko pressed one soft kiss to her shoulder, sweeping her hair aside. He moved slowly. Like a careful dance, he took his first step and awaited hers. His other hand went to rest on her hip.

"Can I stay?" he asked.

The next move belonged to her. She half-turned to regard him.

His eyes were dark beneath his bangs, golden almost in the shadows of his face. He looked down at her, his expression free of everything but his naked longing. For more months than she could remember, that desire had strained and tightened between them like a bow's string.

It felt like she could reach out and touch that hunger. He wanted her, and she wanted him. It was so simple; it was hers for the taking. All she had to do was accept.

Softly, she answered. "Yes."

Katara took a last look at the endless freckling of stars overhead, at how bright they shone. At how they burned.

She drew him in.