A/N: Alrighty, I didn't have a beta for this. So please, please, please tell me if there are any typos or errors so I can correct them right away. xP For a little while my chapters might come a bit slower; I'm working on creating a new collaborative writing community with a friend of mine so a lot of my time online has been devoted to that project for the moment. However, once we're up and running I'll be able to write my fanfic more religiously. Never fear; I still expect to update at least once a week. :)

Thank you as always to my faithful readers and reviewers! 8'D

Summer Air

Chapter Nine

Zuko slept fitfully until noon. Whatever his dreams, he occasionally murmured incoherent phrases and names—including her own. When she reassured him that she was safe and sound, tending his injuries, it didn't offer him any comfort, sweat still beading his upper lip as he continued in restless slumber.

He was feverish when they brought him in, and it took her the better part of an hour to bring it down. Cool compresses still hugged his neck and forehead, the refreshing water held within replaced by her bending whenever needed. The rest of her energy and effort went to the delicate work of reconstructing his torn muscle.

Lunchtime rolled around and it was Satoru whose little footsteps intruded in her tent. While Katara understood her brother's concern, she couldn't help but think it was a rather insulting tactic to send her adorable nephew to try and make her see reason and eat something.

"Aunty Katara, I want sea prunes and you make 'em better than my mama."

"I'm sorry, Satoru, but I'm busy right now." She paused long enough to send the little boy a tired smile. "Did your father send you in here?"

He sheepishly nodded, hands clasped behind his back. "He said I should ask you nicely."

Seeing the chagrined expression on her nephew's face she dried off her hands and made her way to his side, although the hand that didn't settle on his shoulders was pulling back the flap of her tent. "Go tell your dad that I'm fine, and if you want really good sea prune stew, you should ask Miss Taka to make you some. She always made the best for me when I was younger."

Thankfully, Satoru was much more forgiving than an adult would have been of her rejection, scampering off with the thought of delicious sea prune stew already filling his head. She could at least appreciate the brief break he'd given her, rubbing her neck and shoulders and parting with a sigh before her attention was caught by movement in the corner of her eye.

"Zuko, you're finally awake," she breathed in relief when she saw his golden gaze trained on her.

"Sorry…" was his hoarse reply, continued only after he'd maneuvered into a seat, good hand flying to the washcloth that fell from his face with the action.

"It's hardly your fault. Besides, it looked much worse than it was. But be careful, it's still—" He reached for the still-mending shoulder and winced when he touched it, prompting her own grimace, "—tender."

"No, Katara. I'm sorry about your father."

She paled considerably. "You don't have to apologize for that."

"He saved my life," he continued, and she didn't know whether the pain in his voice was due to his shoulder or an echo of what was aching in her heart.

For a long moment she was torn. Zuko's injury had been her means of coping, of not facing the news that had already circulated through the village and left a quiet silence looming over the entire place. She still didn't want to accept that Hakoda wasn't just waiting to saunter through the gates before nightfall, with some roaring tale to tell of how he managed to fend off the danger until the rest of the men were safe. If she was told now that there was no hope…

But she'd rather face the truth than run from it, simply steeling herself against any tears that might creep into her eyes or her voice. "What happened?" she asked calmly, as she perched herself on the edge of the chair beside Zuko's bed.

He spared her no expense in his account. It was almost clinical the way he could relate every detail without flinching—until the end. But then again, his audience was a stone-faced young woman wholly resolved against letting even the slightest emotion pass through her expression.

The trip was going well. Too well, Zuko said. After melting most of the icicles out of the way, the group was able to navigate the maze with ease, no pigeon-wolves in sight and following Hakoda's instructions based on his prior experience. He'd been to the shrine inside, as it turned out, and knew exactly what they would find there. The stone gourd was in Sokka's possession, she was told, and the next location was simply scrawled on the wall: Xian.

But she didn't care about any of that.

It was on their way back to the entrance of the maze that calamity struck. One of the men stumbled and scraped his arm on an icicle. 'Just a scratch,' he had insisted, but it soon turned into more than that. While he wasn't badly injured, the scent of blood brought the pigeon-wolves out in droves. Before that there had been a tremulous hope that the Fire Nation's repeated attacks had decimated the predatory population.

Zuko held his bandaged shoulder as he explained that because he held the flame that lit the way, the animals targeted him first. When he fell to the snow under the weight of the one that got his arm, the light went out and all hell broke loose. His best estimation of what happened was that some of the men managed to drag him to safety as Hakoda drew the rest of the creatures the opposite direction, back into the heart of Amarok.

"After I burned my shoulder to stop the bleeding, everything went black. I guess you'll have to ask Sokka about the rest," he told her with a frown, still massaging his wound.

It took a moment for her to find her voice, uncertain at first if it would crack under the pressure of the clamp squeezing her heart inside her chest. "He wouldn't tell me anything."

"Give him some time. He's the Chief now. It's probably hard for him to accept."

It was her turn to frown, finally breaking her oath to maintain her emotionless façade. "I don't think anything's official…" Was Sokka really going to take the job? He was so young, and— But Zuko was wincing again, and she was reminded that she had a duty to her patient. "Lay back down and I'll work on your shoulder some more."

He was already reclining again but shaking his head at the same time. "If you don't mind, I'd rather just…rest awhile. I feel like I haven't slept well in a long time."

It's because you haven't, she wanted to say. Neither of us has. But she bit her tongue.

"Sure, get some rest. I'll go fix something to eat. It'll be ready when you wake up."

"Thank you, Katara."

Of course, she had no plans of making them dinner at all. Her steps beelined straight for her brother's tent.

She was surprised to find him alone. Suki and Satoru were both still at Taka's, probably taking an afternoon nap following a filling lunch of sea prune stew. Or rather, that was the explanation she conjured up, for when she entered the tent, her brother didn't say a word.

"So you're going to be the Chief," she began softly, after she'd taken a seat across from him, legs folded and hands on her knees.

"Well, I didn't think you wanted the job." He cracked a half-smirk.

"I'm being serious, Sokka. Are you sure you're ready for something like this?" She wore a perpetual frown.

After a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair. For once he was wearing it down. "I've been ready ever since they left me as the only warrior in the whole village."

"Oh, give me a break. We were kids then!"

"Come on, Sis. You know as well as I do we grew up pretty fast without either of our parents around."

She simply frowned some more. Lately, she'd been realizing just how much growing up she still had left to do, no matter how mature she might have been for her age back then. Finally she opted for a quiet, "You're still young, Sokka. And you've got Suki, and your son, and another child on the way—"

"And they support my decision. We always knew it would come to this someday. Look, I'm just as upset that Dad is gone."

"It hardly seems like it!" Now she was coming unraveled, on her feet and pacing, one hand across her chest and the other toying with the end of her hair. "You come back from this nightmare and just tell me he's dead and shove me into a tent with Zuko!"

"Katara, calm down." Her latest outburst had more than likely drawn the attention of a passerby or two outside of the tent. "He needed a healer and you're the best I know."

"Right. I forgot there actually is something I'm good at."

"Is that what this is about? Because you didn't get to come along like you wanted to? After the way things turned out, I'd think even you could realize it was for the best that you stayed behind," he muttered angrily.

She knew he was right, and even the sight of her brother growing perturbed was enough to help her rein in her temper. "No, it's not about that, Sokka." But only a little bit.

"Then what? Sure, I appreciate your concern, but not when it comes with expectations. And don't try to deny it. I'm sorry that you're just about the only one who has no idea what you want to do with the rest of your life, but I'm not about to let your insecurity talk me out of doing what I know I should. I'm happy to lead our people in Dad's stead. I'm happy to stay in the South Pole with my family. I'm happy and I just wish you could be the same."

She was in tears by the time he was through, but she stubbornly refused to let them spill down her face. "How can you be happy about anything when Dad is dead?!"

"Because he didn't die in vain!"

And with that, all she could hear were Zuko's pained words. He saved my life. He saved all their lives. If only she could have been there…

"Katara," her brother finally said, reaching for her shoulder. By now more than a few tears had graced her cheeks. She jerked away before he could touch her. "Katara, don't let it be in vain for you. He died to save all of us, and Toph, and the whole world."

Yet the dam had broken and as the floodgates of her tears opened wide, the last thing she wanted to hear was that her father had died for her.

Her only retreat was her tent. Zuko was sleeping, so she was able to curl up on her pallet of furs and cry into her pillow with abandon. All of her pent-up grief came tumbling out; she cried more than she imagined she ever had since her mother died. Everything her brother had said cut her to the quick, knowing full well that she was unhappy with the solitary life she'd chosen away from friends and family and sequestered in the North Pole. That even he – goofy, fun-loving, comedic Sokka – could see through the veil of her escape was devastating.

It was only a few minutes into her silent sobbing that she felt the touch on her back. Gentle and imploring, it barely startled her but was more than enough to bring her bleary-eyed focus from the cushion of her pillow—to find Zuko standing over her.

"You went to see your brother?"

She pulled her knees up when he took a seat on the edge of her pallet and nodded, futilely wiping the back of a wrist across her tearstained face.

"Did he tell you what happened?"

For a split-second she contemplated shaking her head, but realized he had told her. Her father had saved everyone. That was all she needed to know. Reluctantly she nodded, and when Zuko opened his arms she immediately moved into them for a tight hug where she could bury her face in his good shoulder and cry all over again.

He was warm and strong, and that was comforting enough to keep the more violent sobs at bay. It helped that she knew he understood her pain to a certain degree, having lost his mother when he was young himself. She didn't say anything and the hand that stroked her back as she cried told her there was no need.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispered when she drew away, wiping at her nose with her sleeve.

"You shouldn't apologize. I'm sure you probably needed that."

She was able to slightly chuckle at that, agreeing wholeheartedly. "Yes, even I have stupid girl moments where I just lose it and look awful afterward."

"I think you look just as beautiful as ever."

If she hadn't just cried her eyes out, she might have burst into tears all over again. Instead, she blushed as brightly as a fire lily and sat a bit straighter, putting just a smidge more distance between them. "Thanks."

He seemed to notice her discomfort, shifting away from her with a hand massaging his shoulder again. "I know this may be a bad time, but would you mind maybe working on my shoulder again? It's still a little tight." Whether it truly was or he was simply giving her something to do, she jumped at the opportunity.

As she worked her bending through his sore muscle, she finally was able to concentrate on the task still at hand. "What was the name of the place we're supposed to go next again?"

"Xian. It's at the Western Air Temple. I only know that much because there were records of when it was destroyed in the Fire Nation archives. I'm not sure if we'll find anything there but it's where we're headed."

"Maybe as the home of one of the Immortals, it would be protected…" But it was only a small hope, since she'd seen firsthand the decimation the Fire Nation had caused across the world.

"We can definitely hope so. If nothing else, we ask Aang for help after all, right?"

"That's right; I got a letter from him while you were gone."

"Good news or bad?"

She grimaced slightly and removed her hands from his arm so she could fetch the letter and show him. "Both, I guess. I think we should probably get going as soon as you feel up to it."

"Are you sure—" And she knew he was thinking about her mourning again.

"I'm sure."

They chose to leave at dawn the following day. Sokka was there to meet them, and he handed over the gourd they'd retrieved from Amarok. It joined all the other relics wrapped safely and stowed away in Appa's saddle.

"I'm sorry I won't get to be there for the official ceremony," she told her brother as she gave him a hug. Truthfully, she'd only remembered the village would be holding one after she'd made her plans with Zuko the night before.

"Saving the world is a bit more important than drums and dancing, don't you think?" he quipped, before shooting Zuko a look over her head. "Take care of her. I still need her to deliver Suki's baby. I may be the Chief soon but there's still no way I'm doing that."

She had laughed, Zuko had smiled, and they'd shared a look over her brother's shoulder. They'd certainly learned a lot about looking out for each other and their journey together had hardly begun.