'oh, you're all i taste, at night inside of my mouth'
written for zutara month 2017 - day twenty-two: [so many] regrets

'That's something we have in common.'

The phrase follows Zuko everywhere: through halls, around the gardens, into his dreams.

He thought, being back home, being surrounded by sweltering heat and regaining his honor, that he'd forget the icy blue of her eyes.

Yet, he distinctly recalls the way those eyes softened when he revealed the broken pieces of himself. His heart tugs at her quickness to forgive him, her eagerness to help him, the smell of lavender that came off her skin when she stood before him.

Katara recognized his pain because it was the same as hers. She flooded his veins with hope because hope filled her. She touched him: his mind, his heart, his soul. She understood him, which is more than he can say for anyone in the Fire Nation.

He prays— Agni above, he prays she still does.

It's been two months.

Reports of strange happenings in the Fire Nation's outskirts and colonies trickle through the palace. A blind, gambling girl runs amok. Some vibrant boy attends a school for just three days. There's a dance, two parents by the names of Wang Fire and Sapphire Fire. Zuko has his suspicions, but he forces himself not to care.

It's the stories of a waterbending spirit that make his breath stop.

By the turtleduck pond, Zuko tells his mother's ghost about it all:

"She healed the sick in Jang Hui. She cleaned the river, destroyed the metal factory there, and drove the soldiers away. Father's demanding information about her identity, but… The people are flourishing again. They're healthy again, thanks to her. I'm not opening my mouth."

He imagines his mother asking 'who is she, my son?' The Fire Princess was always an attentive listener, carefully following his stories when he was child, showing genuine interest in the things he had to say.

And Zuko bites his lip, his eyes clouding with tears.

When the tears leak down his cheeks, he fights a bout of regret, fights the urge to list every way he's harmed her and all the ways he can try to make it right. It's no use, anyway. He's the Prince. His place is here.

Still, despite himself, Zuko smiles, smiles at the tranquil water and the daisies that adorn the pond's edge.

"I think she'd love this place as much as you."

"This isn't what I pictured when I imagined you coming home."

Zuko's done everything he can to avoid being one-on-one with her, but Mai finds him at the edge of the turtleduck pond, despondently throwing chunks of bread to the quacking birds.

A pair of ducklings squabble over a piece, resulting in the smaller of the two tipping over and the mother paddling over with a warning squawk. He smiles, but Mai rolls her eyes.

"What is your obsession with this place, anyway? There's actual entertainment in the palace. General Chan is prancing about with his sideburns out to here." Mai holds up her hands on either side of her face. "You remember how he is."

She tries to tug him from the ground, but Zuko shrugs her off. "I don't care about Chan. Or his sideburns."

"Of course you don't."

"What does that mean, Mai?"

"You don't care about anything," she grumbles, blatant irritation all over her face. "You have everything you could want: thousands of servants, endless money, all the fruit tarts you can eat—"

"Everything you're listing, I've gone without," Zuko snaps, glaring at the rippling water. "It's not important to me anymore."

"Then what is? What's so important to you?"

Zuko looks up at her for a breath before his eyes narrow. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes!" Mai practically shouts, her arms crossing over her chest. "Since you can't be bothered with what I like, maybe if I know what you value, our conversations won't feel like pulling teeth!"

"Our conversations feel like pulling teeth because I don't want to have them." His voice is harsher than he means, but he's reached the end of what little patience he has. "I know it's a shock to you, Mai, but living as a fucking fugitive for three years changes a person."

Her expression stays blank, except for the wrinkle of anger between her perfect brows. Zuko dumps the crumbs from his lap into the pond and stands up, closing in on her.

"I'm not the little boy you had a crush on, Mai. I don't even remember that boy!" Zuko snorts derisively, his fingers subconsciously going to the left side of his face.

"Or maybe I do," he mutters, dropping his hand from his face. "Maybe I'm finding that boy again, the one who cared about people, and that's why I don't give a shit about your stupid pastries or find amusement in torturing the servants."

Mai laughs cruelly. "Azula's right. You really did turn into one of those Earth Kingdom peasants. What are you going to do? Renounce your title and settle down? Did you find yourself a little peasant wife, too?"

It hits too close to home, her jibe about a wife.

He prays for a life with Katara. But, the thought of her reminds Zuko why he's here, why he chose to leave with Azula. The dreams of her dying in his arms still haunt him— her broken breaths, her ragged tears, her bloody fingers grasping his shirt as the light leaves her eyes.

He made the right decision. It doesn't matter how much it hurts.

Zuko stays silent, his eyes falling to the ground, and Mai's tone changes to one of scolding.

"Worrying about those people is pointless, Zuko. You're the Crown Prince. Your job is to care about your nation, not the cannon fodder in the Earth Kingdom."

A day later, he learns the people in the Earth Kingdom aren't cannon fodder; they're kindling. His father is going to burn the entire world to the ground. Zuko might be the Crown Prince, but he's also the great-grandson of Avatar Roku— he should say something, right?

He doesn't, and shame sears his soul. But, Zuko stands taller when the eclipse comes and he faces his father, finding true honor.

As his war balloon surges in the wind, Zuko stares after the bison, his eyes locking on the speck of blue crouched in the animal's saddle.

Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.

He fought it at first. He denied it. He cursed the spirits day and night. Somehow, she'd found a way around his defenses, and now, this is all for her.

Live or die, he's going to help save the world, because she has to live in it.

He's going to save her.

Of course, she doesn't need saving. She can fight for herself, the prodigious waterbender that she is.

Zuko gets on his knees for her, offers himself to her, and water slaps him in the face. He falls back on his elbows, closes his eyes against the torrent, but the backs of his eyelids do nothing to block her out.

He wonders, almost aloud— how is it possible that she becomes even more beautiful with age? How does her skin look like melted chocolate in the candlelight? How does her hair shine even more than the red silk sheets across which it spills? How does she steal his breath with a kiss, stop his heart with a hiss, send tremors through his limbs by moaning against his lips?

Zuko sits back on his heels, his knees spreading hers, his hands skimming down the front of her.

Katara arches over the mattress, pushes her breasts into his palms, writhes when his fingertips tickle the insides of her thighs, dip into the slick heat between her legs, push inside her wet sex and curl slowly.

She says something, soft and keening. It's indecipherable, and he leans forward, kissing her sternum and her stomach, down to her hips.

"Tell me, my love," he murmurs, lapping her clit until she whines again. "Tell me what you want."

Zuko looks up, up her body, meets those blue eyes that see every fiber of his being. He holds her gaze and watches those blue eyes change.

They ice over.

The vision's gone. The stone floor of the air temple cuts into his skin and Zuko wipes water from his face. When he dares look at her, she's a picture of fury: chest heaving, cheeks flushed.

Because of the vision? Because of him?

Katara balls her fists, gulps for air.

"I want you to leave, Prince Zuko."

And, he can't blame her.

That night, tucked in the shadow of his stolen war balloon, Zuko dreams of her, of what she wanted in the vision.

He puts his mouth everywhere she asks, touches her in every way she demands, fills her up and pushes her over the edge of bliss. He follows, closing his eyes as the last drops of pleasure leave his veins.

When he opens them, Zuko finds himself staring up at the night sky, owls hooting nearby.

He wonders if Katara lied. He wonders if what she wants is this future with him, but, like him, she doesn't know how to reach it.

Despite his transgressions, despite his endless torment of them for so long—

"So, here you go, home sweet home, I guess. For now." Sokka holds open a door, gesturing for Zuko to go inside. "Unpack? Lunch… soon? Uhh— welcome aboard."

Zuko turns around in the middle of the modest room, smiling in a way that he hopes if friendly. He doesn't know though; he's never had a real friend. From the way Sokka shrugs and shuffles out, Zuko assumes he never will.

Sighing, he dumps his bag on the bed. The contents spill out, and Zuko picks up a portrait of his uncle. They'd been here once, over three years ago. He distinctly remembers the old man clapping his shoulder and telling him about destiny's mysterious ways.

Did Uncle have any inkling of the truth that statement held?

Zuko smiles again, privately, and sets the picture on the windowsill.

He's on the verge of praying his uncle is safe when he hears movement to his right. Zuko glances at the door, finding Katara leaning against the frame with a scowl on her face.

He tries to say something, but she beats him to it:

"You might have everyone else here buying your transformation… but you and I both know you've struggled with doing the right thing in the past."

She moves into his room, comes so close to him they might as well be back in the Crystal Catacombs.

"Let me tell you something, right now. You make one step backward, one slip-up, give me one reason to think you might hurt Aang—"

"I won't," Zuko says. His voice shakes, but she seems taken aback that he's spoken at all. He licks his lips quickly. "Katara, I'm not going to hurt him. You don't have to worry."

"I don't?" She glares at him, her face twisted up with anger. "You're the reason we lost Ba Sing Se, Zuko. You're the reason Aang fell, the reason he can't go into the Avatar State anymore, the reason the world thought he was dead! If you'd just come with me—"

"I couldn't, Katara! You would've been hurt!"

"I still was!"

She screams it, so loud his ears ache. For a second, he fears another jetty of water will steal his breath. Instead, Katara steps away from him, and what she says is more painful than drowning.

"I was ripped in two."

Zuko tries everything with Katara. He brings her iced tea in the morning, which she hates because he's terrible company. In the evenings, he helps with the dishes, which she resents, because she'd rather he'd helped her in Ba Sing Se.

She tells him that, again and again, doesn't give him the time of day outside of terse remarks and tense conversations when no one else is around.

I don't care what the spirits show us.

I trusted you.

And you betrayed me.

You betrayed us all.

If he argues back, if he so much as opens his mouth, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving him standing there with frustration tugging at his features.

Katara does trust him, though; maybe not with her thoughts, but with everyone else. She can deny it all she wants— She doesn't hover when he's alone with Toph. She laughs when he cracks a joke at Sokka's expense. She lets him leave the air temple with Aang.

She trusts him. Enough. Enough to give Zuko hope. Enough that he keeps trying.

"Pretty clouds."

Zuko glances over his shoulder at Sokka. His heart is pattering in his chest nervously, making his mouth dry and the task of finding anything intelligent to say near impossible. The best he comes up with, "Yeah, fluffy."

He doesn't know what to add after that. Zuko pretends to be busy with the furnace.

Sokka starts whistling.

"What?"

The outburst startles the warrior.

"What? Oh, I didn't say anything." Those sharp blue eyes flick around, scrutinizing everything but the firebender. "You know, a friend of mine actually designed these war balloons."

"No kidding."

"Yep, a balloon… but for war."

"If there's one thing my dad's good at, it's war."

"Yeah," Sokka shrugs, nonchalantly, "it seems to run in the family."

He's probably trying to make a joke, but frustration pipes up in Zuko's chest. He throws another fistful of fire into the furnace, wishing he would sink through the floorboards.

This whole thing is going swimmingly, he berates himself. Without the buffer of Toph or the thick-as-tar tension that comes with Katara, it's suddenly leagues harder to be around Sokka. All he can think about is rampaging through Sokka's village, chasing him and his sister and his best friend around the world, breaking his spear—

Zuko huffs and closes the furnace hatch. "Not everyone in my family's like that."

"I know, I know. You've changed."

"No, I meant my uncle," Zuko says, facing Sokka. "He was more of a father to me. And I really let him down."

For a moment, Sokka appears to be thinking. He tilts his head, his eyes flicking over Zuko's face. The Prince wonders what on Earth could be so interesting when Sokka finally breaks his silence.

"I think your uncle would be proud of you." His voice is upbeat, encouraging. It makes Zuko flicker with pride. "Leaving your home to come help us? That's hard."

His pride falters. Zuko's shoulders sag. "It wasn't that hard."

"Really? You didn't leave behind anyone you cared about?"

"No."

Zuko bites his lip. His answer was quick, too quick. He turns away, resting his elbows on the war balloon's railing, and prays he can find something else to discuss before Sokka presses him.

But, he's still tongue-tied and the Water Tribe warrior is sharp.

"You just… came after someone you cared about," Sokka says, knowingly.

Did Katara tell him? Zuko squints at the clouds, swallowing his nerves. "Um, no?"

"You're a great liar."

In the corner of his vision, Zuko feels Sokka staring at him, one brow hooked upwards. His bare arms are crossed. He's cocky, daring Zuko to elaborate, even though he already knows. Or has a feeling. Or maybe he doesn't know anything, and he's waiting for Zuko to confirm it so there'll be fresh gossip around the campfire.

Zuko risk a glance in Sokka's direction. "I'm… not telling you anything."

"Fine," the warrior shrugs.

"Fine?"

"Yeah, fine. Keep it to yourself." That smart-ass smirk reappears, bringing thick silence with it. Sokka looks at him and Zuko glares back, until Sokka's expression shifts to one of suspicion. "So, Katara's just… you didn't, in the Catacombs… nothing—?"

"What?!" Zuko catches Sokka's meaning almost immediately and nearly falls over at the implication. "Shit! No! I've never touched her." Then, he's bright red and sweaty and stammering way too much. "I mean- I— Not yet. I haven't yet. I haven't touched her, but— Um… At this point. At some point—"

"What."

"What?" Zuko squeaks, gulps down oxygen like it's water.

Sokka's on his feet in a second, closing the bit of distance between them. "Not yet?! Are you planning on it or something?" His fingers fist Zuko's shirt. "That's my little sister!"

"It's not like I purposefully think about it!" Zuko scrambles. "These crazy, spirit visions keep fucking with us and I—"

"Wait. Wait…" The expression on Sokka's face goes from fury to confusion, then light slowly dawns in his eyes. "Oh, god. Holy fuck. You're soulmates." He lets Zuko go then, rubbing his forehead. "You're Katara's soulmate? You're her soulmate!"

Zuko cringes and tries to back away, now that he's free, but Sokka looks at him funny.

"What are you doing?"

"Uhm… jumping overboard before you throw me overboard?"

The warrior shrugs, "Can't say I wasn't considering it."

"See?"

"Well, not anymore. I thought about it when you said 'yet.'"

"Oh. That's… understandable." Zuko forces himself to relax, then clears his throat." So… you- you know about the soulmate visions?"

"Yeah. I started having them in the Northern Water Tribe."

"What happened?"

"She turned into the moon."

"That's… rough, buddy."

"It's okay." Sokka flops down on their bags, again. "I knew going into it… Soulmates aren't always for life. I was meant to protect her, and I did, until I couldn't." His eyes cloud for a moment. "I think people can have more than one, sometimes. Even without them, I think people can find happiness."

Zuko swallows. "Are you? Are you happy?"

"Mostly. I have my sister, and Toph and Aang are good friends. I'm happier when I'm with Suki, but… that's another woman I've failed." Sokka glowers at the floorboards. "Azula has her."

"She won't always, Sokka. The war will end. Look, we're already making one thing right by going after your dad."

A hesitant smile forms on Sokka's lips. "Aang's positivity's rubbed off on you, huh?"

"Maybe a little," Zuko says. He turns back to the furnace, opening it and stoking the flames again. "Or, maybe it's Katara, and all her hope."

That hope follows him through the Boiling Rock.

The fear's easier to stomach, with visions of her smile and her laugh. Even when he's caught, and anxiety threatens to drown out everything else— he'll be sent home, he'll be executed— Zuko leaves little room in his thoughts for anything but her, anything but getting back to her with Sokka and Hakoda and Suki all in one piece.

Agni, if they could just find Hakoda. Zuko breathes out a fire-laced curse, curling up tighter inside the cooler.

His fingers are freezing, trembling as he tries to hold a flame above them. He gives up, stuffing his hands under his arms and spitting fire through his teeth.

Remember your breath of fire, Uncle's voice echoes. It could save your life out there.

Zuko rests his head against the metal. "I will," he murmurs, shivering.

He forgot how taxing it is, though, keeping his body and blood warm enough to live. His eyelids are heavy, and getting heavier. Zuko breathes in, calls heat and chi into his lungs, but all he gets is steam through his nostrils.

It'd be so easy to sleep.

So… so easy…

"Don't close your eyes, Zuko." Katara's command rings loud and clear.

Zuko bolts awake, blinking against the sudden change in the light, in surroundings. He's dressed in blue furs, with leather gloves and boots. Snow surrounds him, dusts his eyelashes and melts in his hair, but somehow he's warm.

He warms further when he looks over the tops of a dozen penguins, spots Katara among them, hears her giggle flutter across the snow to tickle a laugh from him.

"Okay," Zuko pushes through the flock to reach her. "Don't close my eyes. What else?"

She produces a fish from a satchel at her waist and tosses it to a chosen penguin. "Don't let go."

"Okay, Katara." The snow, the squawking birds— they're gone, but he answers her anyway, breathing fire in ragged gasps. "I won't let go."

"Promise?" Katara's smiling up at him, holding his left hand in both of hers.

The finest, blue silks adorn her. Her hair cascades from a golden, crescent pin. Around her neck, she wears that familiar moonstone, held there by an intricately carved, silver band.

Zuko thumbs the betrothal stone's curved edge, then his fingers move to her jaw, brushing up into the dark curls falling around her shoulders.

He smiles. "I promise. Whatever you want."

"What he wants—" The vision changes again, to a landscape full of carnival lights and snowflakes and joyous life. They walk in the middle of it all, dodging families and lovers and children alike. Zuko looks up and grins at Kya, who sits on his shoulders and points at different carnival games.

Katara keeps the pace beside him. She has a fussy toddler clinging to her cloak and she pats the boy's head. "—is for you to breathe fire again."

She stops beside a booth, stooping to the child's level, "Is that it, Lu Ten? Do you want Papa to be a dragon, again?"

The little boy nods, fists rubbing his puffy eyes.

"Dragon," he commands, all nasally and weepy, but slowly growing more enthusiastic. Lu Ten jabs a pudgy hand at his father. "Be a dragon, Papa! Dragon!"

Zuko gets a pointed look from Katara, "Please? I know we talked about not spoiling him like K-Y-A—"

"I can spell!" The princess crosses her arms defiantly, glaring down from her perch on Zuko's shoulders.

The Fire Lord laughs, "Yes, you can, my darling. You're so grown up!"

He winks at Katara, then strokes Lu Ten's chocolate hair to get the boy's attention and breathes a tiny dragon into existence. It dances from Zuko's lips around Lu Ten's head, flickering and glittering. The boy's eyes widen, so bright and golden, completely delighted.

Zuko makes another, then another, listening to Lu Ten giggle. He clings to the vision when it finally fades, breathing in, breathing out, building the heat in his body and forcing himself to stay awake in the frozen cooler.

For his son. For his daughter.

For Katara.

He hears Sokka's voice in the hall, and Zuko prays he's found Hakoda. He prays they can leave this place behind and he can run back to the air temple, beg for forgiveness, for a chance from the waterbender.

And that's when he knows—

Sokka's wrong. Happiness can't be found without Katara, not the kind of happiness he finds in the dreamt future, not the kind of happiness he feels when she belongs to him.

She's the warmth, the very fire, within in his soul.

Even in all the visions, he's never seen a smile that compares to the one Katara has for her father. Her joy is palpable, lighting up her face and the air temple. It lifts him up.

Then sends him crashing back down.

Katara corners him on the walk back to his room.

It's late. Moonlight slants through the air temple's columns, making everything glow an eerie blue. He's buzzed from the whiskey Chit Sang lifted from the prison's stash of contraband and caught off guard. Zuko thought she went to bed hours ago, when the younger members of the group meandered to their beds.

"What is it?" he mumbles, a palm braced on the wall to stay balanced.

She's quiet, and Zuko swallows a jolt of fear that maybe she's been hurt, maybe she can't speak from the shock of it.

He steps closer to her, a stride away. "Are you alright, Katara?"

Hesitantly, with her eyes flicking between his, Katara bobs her head.

"Yes," she says. She licks her lips, then looks down. "I dreamt about you."

"What?"

"While you were gone."

"Oh." Zuko's slow to process this. Whether his thickheadedness is caused by the alcohol or sheer disbelief that she's actually speaking to him, without insulting him, remains unclear.

Like he did during the flight to the Boiling Rock, Zuko responds with something less than articulate. "Okay. Um— I hope it was a good dream, I guess."

Katara sort of shrugs, sort of nods.

"I took you penguin sledding," she tells him. Her blue eyes focus on his glazed gold. "Then, we ended up at a wedding, which… I think it was ours." Katara scrunches her brows as color rises on her cheeks. "I woke up after that, and fell back asleep. We went to the Moon Festival. Kya and Lu Ten were a little difficult—"

"I don't know if they were difficult. Lu Ten just wanted me to breathe fire," Zuko cuts in. He can't help but smile. His son's giggle still rings in his ears. "He was probably tired. Kids always get fussy when they're tired."

"You saw it, too?"

"I… think it was more of a vision, less of a dream," he murmurs, eyeing her curiously.

Her features have furrowed into a troubled look; the lines between her brows are exaggerated by the ghoulish moonlight. It's like a knife in his gut.

For him, the visions have been a symbol of hope. He can be someone better, someone worthy of being hers. But, Zuko realizes now, that no matter what amends he's tried to make, for her, the visions will always be some cruel joke. That's what she said in Ba Sing Se, isn't it? She asked for a handsome, Northern warrior and was given him.

She also touched his face and talked about healing him and called him honorable… but that was before he betrayed her.

Zuko exhales, hard, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, Katara, for everything. I am. I don't know why the spirits matched us, I just—"

His voice breaks and embarrassment flares up, stoking the anger that simmers beneath the surface. He knows it's self-loathing, self-hatred that's been beaten into him, burned into his skin; still, Zuko unleashes it on her.

"What do you want me to say, Katara?" He snarls. "I was trying to protect you! Do you know what Azula would've… If my sister had even the smallest inkling that you meant something to me… I didn't want to walk away from you, Katara. I didn't want to hurt you, but she would have."

"I was protecting you, Katara. That's all I was trying to do, because no matter what you think of me, no matter what you tell people about me, I want you to be happy. I don't care if it's with me or- or—" He throws his hands into the air, flippantly and furiously. "Or Suki!"

His chest heaves with heavy breaths.

"I just- I just want— I don't know. I have so many regrets, Katara, but—"

Zuko shakes his head. He should go. He should cower in his room until he's slept off the liquor and his temper. He huff, making fists, quelling the fury long enough to escape.

He's not halfway around her when she grabs his wrist.

"What about you?" Katara asks, staring up at him. "Don't you want to be happy?"

There's such intensity in her voice, in her eyes. Her fingers soften in their grip, delicately brushing the inside of his wrist. It's a jolt to his system, taking him back to the catacombs, when she cupped his cheek and brought him back to life, when he'd fucked it all up by leaving her.

Agni, does he hate himself.

Zuko yanks his wrist free. "I'm never happy."

Zuko wakes up with the start of a migraine. He slept with his neck at some weird angle, with his shirt undone and halfway off, but his boots still on. His mouth tastes like cotton swabs and the yellow rays of sunlight assault his eyes, like daggers stabbing through his skull.

Even more painful: Glass shatters near his head.

He bolts upright, every atom protesting the sudden movement. He's ready to blast whoever's behind him when his eyes finally focus.

"Katara?"

She's frozen now that he's staring at her, but in her hand is a broken teacup, and the other, the matching saucer. On his bedside table, is a tray of steeping tea and a second cup, which holds sweet-smelling amber liquid.

"Sorry." Katara remembers how to breathe. "I- um— I thought, well, you're usually up with the sun, and you didn't show for breakfast, so I thought you might be… sick?" She shuffles back and forth on her feet as she talks. "But, I can see that you're fine, so I'll just be—"

Katara eyes the door, but Zuko groans as he sinks back down in his bed and she stops in her tracks, brows arched high.

"Are you…?" she asks. "Are you fine?"

"I think I'm hungover."

"Oh. Well, the tea will definitely help with that."

"Yeah. Probably." He rubs his eyes wearily, trying to get at the throbbing between his temples. It doesn't help, but Zuko finds some relief in the darkness behind his eyelids. "Katara?"

"Mhm?" She's still there.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I'd like to go back to sleep."

"Okay."

Zuko peeks at her. "That's hard to do with you hovering."

"Oh! Sorry." Her eyes go wide. "Well, if you— if you need anything more… more tea or some food… just holler, I guess. I'll be… around, You know."

Katara immediately drops the shards of broken glass on the tea tray, stealing glances at him as she scuttles towards the door. It leaves him bewildered. Last night they were arguing and yelling and— No, he was yelling.

"Wait."

She does, with her back to him, the door part way open. Her fingers still clutch the handle, keeping it where it is. All Zuko can see is her profile, but Katara's swallow is audible.

"Why?" He sits up, despite the throbbing in his head. "Why are you here, Katara? You hated me yesterday. You cornered me last night. I can't even begin to understand it! You go between hot and cold, wanting to talk civilly, then letting disgust play out all over your face when—"

"Tui and La, will you shut up?!"

She surprises him, stuns him silent, which must be exactly what she wants, because Katara sucks in a deep breath and latches his bedroom door again. She puts her fists on her hips and walks towards him.

"I don't hate you," she says. "I never hated you."

"You're very convincing."

Her eyes narrow with a challenge, flicking up and down him. It's only when color rises on her cheeks and she bites her bottom lip— somewhere around the point of her gaze on his abdomen— that Zuko wonders if something's happened that he missed.

He opens his mouth, turning red, but Katara shushes him again.

"Don't," she snaps. "I don't hate you, Zuko. I was angry with you, but I wanted to talk about that last night, civilly. I was confused. I was nervous. I was… trying to find where to start. I wasn't disgusted. By anything."

"You looked it," he argues.

"Well, I wasn't!" Her nostrils flare with a hiss. "You took me off guard! It's all so dizzying, all these different ways I see you…"

Katara pinches her lips together, then moves back to the tray of tea and pours a cup. Zuko can see her mind working at a hundred miles a minute, probably searching for that starting place, again.

She dumps two sugar cubes in the cup, then gestures at his bed. "May I sit?"

His good brow shoots up, then his eyes flick down the mattress. Zuko can't form a single thought. He's stuck on the vision he had when he first arrived, the one of her splayed out on red sheets, pleading his name and tugging his hair. Eventually, his brain thaws out and he shifts so his back is against the wall and there's room for her on the end.

Katara climbs on beside him. Her feet barely dangle over the edge and she slouches back against the same wall as him. If he so much as shifts, his shoulder will bump hers.

Zuko's pulse is thunderous in his ears. He tries to ignore it, fights to calm down by watching her slender fingers circle the lip of the teacup. Katara brings it up to her mouth and slurps up a tiny bit.

It's cute. She's cute. Zuko smiles at her, that lopsided, silly smile he always hides away, and teases her. "I thought that was for me."

"Oh…" She glances sideways, blushing like she just remembered. "I meant for both of us to have some, but, um…" Katara nods towards the pieces of porcelain on the tea tray, then holds her cup out in offering. "We can share."

He gawks at her. He wasn't expecting that. Or any of this, really. Katara pushes the tea towards him again, and Zuko takes it, sucking down a copious amount to wash away the taste of cotton.

"It's good," he remarks, giving the cup back to her.

Katara smiles. "Thank you. I copied your technique."

"And I copied my uncle."

"Well, I suppose we have him to thank for this delicious cup," Katara toasts, taking another sip before lowering it to her lap as silence descends.

She fidgets again, and Zuko watches her lick her top lip clean. She catches him staring. They both flush.

"So—"

"—Zuko, I—"

They cut off at the same time, staring at each other before looking away quickly, like spooked rabbits. He plays with the edges of his tunic; Katara traces around and around the cup. His mouth is open, looking for something to say, but Zuko remembers what she said about wanting to talk and he lets her go first.

"Zuko…" Katara starts hesitantly. "I… I'm sorry."

"You- you're sorry?" Zuko gasps, utterly bewildered. "What are you sorry for? I— I was yelling at you last night. I was- I— I've done so many th—"

Katara offers him the teacup again, her fingers brushing his as he takes it. It's easier for Zuko to stare down at her hands, at their hands. Her skin against his is like an electric shock and he misses the feeling when Katara lets go.

"I'm sorry," she repeats. "I'm sorry for judging you, and I'm sorry for how I've treated you."

"Katara, it's— you haven't—" Zuko swallows. Where is she going with this? "Katara, you don't have any reason to apologize."

"But, I do."

Zuko shakes his head, confused. His thoughts swarm with all the wrongs he could list off. He's about to; he wants to. He needs her to know that she shouldn't be sorry. That he is.

"All this time, since you sided with Azula in Ba Sing Se, I've been holding it against you," Katara says. "I didn't want to hear your motive. I didn't even want to talk to you. I managed to convince myself that you didn't care, that, soulmates or not, you're only here to get at Aang and wreck us all… but…"

She meets his gaze, her jaw clenched, her brilliant eyes so soft and completely consuming. "You lied to me last night."

"I- I did?" he chokes.

"You said you're never happy, but that's a lie. You're happy in the visions, in the future."

"Yes, but—"

"No. Don't," she tells him. "Don't try to excuse my behavior. I've been punishing you. I've been telling myself all these lies so I'd stay angry and—" Katara looks down, chewing on the inside of her cheek and her breath hisses through her nose.

Zuko waits, scrutinizing the left side of her face in search of answers.

"You were protecting me in Ba Sing Se."

He nods, "Azula's ruthless, Katara, and I had this dream, about the lightning, except it hit you instead of me and it felt like a warning. Azula— She'd hurt you just to hurt me. She'd kill you if—"

"I know," Katara cuts him off. Her eyes are on him again, wide and glistening. "You chose me, you valued me, over yourself and everything you wanted. Then, you committed treason to help Aang. You do more than your share around camp. You're best friends with Toph. You look out for Sokka. You went with him to rescue my dad… You could've died, Zuko."

She looks like she might cry. Zuko lifts his hand from his lap, intent on covering hers, but he hesitates. His hand falls, his fingers curling up and forming a fist on his thigh.

Katara stops his heart by grabbing his hand herself.

"You care," she says.

"I do." So much that it hurts.

"And you're still giving me a choice?"

He swallows, thinking of how much it will ache if she chooses someone else, ignoring the pain as it flares up in his chest.

"Always," Zuko murmurs, entwining his fingers with hers. "As long as you're happy, I will be, too."