Disclaimer: I own nothing. Belongs to Bryke.

Saviour

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When you came to us, as stoic and silent as ever, we could see that beneath that armour of rage you were broken. In those cold amber eyes, we saw the glaze of misery and guilt. From your twisted mouth we heard the words of a man who has nothing left but his own tortured memories.

It was I who came to you on those long, cold nights; I who held you close to me and listened to your pain.

I who kissed your lips when you cried and held your hand when you shook with fear and cooled your fury when you screamed and yelled and raged.

I who protected you.

I remember the way you tried to keep me out: those cold words that you threw at me until I would cry. I remember the first time I tried to hold you and the way you shoved me back:

Why don't you just die, Katara?

Do you know how I wanted to when you said that to me?

But that first night…the night when I found you alone in the moonlight, huddled from the darkness, curled in the crook of a tree trunk. How I'd touched your face and you'd let me: how you'd watched me with those sad, sad eyes.

I'm sorry.

I love you.

And it was that moment that I knew you would heal.

I thought that you would heal.

Because I thought our time together meant something. Every time you held me, every time you kissed me I thought it meant something. Every time my fingers brushed your skin and my head rested on your shoulder, I thought I could feel that internal wound that scars you so heal. Feel the tissue creep inch by inch over the festering sore.

But things change, don't they, Zuko? The world cannot go on without change.

I didn't notice at first: there was a war going on, how could I have noticed such an insignificant shift in your demeanour? Still, even now I wonder how I missed that you would no longer kiss me in the morning when we woke next to one another. How I missed that you no longer trembled when our skin brushed. How you would wander off alone at night when you felt sad: you no longer had want or need for my comfort.

And when the war ended, you went home: you did not ask me to follow. When I visited you, I was not embraced. That cruel twist to your bitter lips did not curve into the smile I had come to love. Your cold, sun-coloured eyes did not glitter with the mischief I thought lay beneath.

I remember that day very well.

Zuko?

I think you should leave. You're not wanted.

Why?

Never again will I feel your warm fingers curl around mine. Never again will I feel your lips press against my hair, nor will I hear the familiar intake of your breath when you take in my scent. I will not wake to trace the contours of your scar. I will not fall asleep beneath the stars, knowing, trusting, that you will keep me warm.

That contorted clench of ice that serves as your heart remains unmelted…

Because I could never save you, no matter how I tried.

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