Written for iamartemisday for Zutara Secret Santa 2013! The prompt chosen was werewolf!Zuko, with some inspiration from "Um... I'm sorry. I thought this was my room."

He needs to get back to the apartment. He needs to get behind closed doors before the moon sets.

But everything's fuzzy, ever since that cart vendor chucked a bottle of cheap perfume at him – not an animal lover, apparently. He relies heavily on his sense of smell to navigate when in this form, but now he doubts even Uncle's distinctive herbal scent would be able to penetrate the cloud of rotting fruit and alcohol stubbornly clinging to his matted fur.

He comes to a stop in front of stoop. It looks similar to the building he's looking for, but then so do many others. He sniffs hopefully at the bottom step, snorting in frustration when he can't detect anything through the fog perfume. The building was yellowish, he was certain, but that does him little good now as presently everything is yellowish, or bluish, or just a muddy gray blend.

His ears prick up at the peal of a bell in the distance, indicating midnight, and he gallops up the steps to the door. The moon will set in minutes and time is running short. After a few awkward jerks on the handle with forepaws as he balances uneasily on his hind legs he manages to get a paw in between the door and the jamb, followed by his snout, and from there it's easy to squeeze himself through, his tail just narrowly evading being caught in the soft thud of the door slamming shut.

He slinks low to the ground and ducks quickly into the stairwell before the unobservant doorman, half asleep at his desk, can see him. The stairs he takes at a galloping run, four steps at a time, in his rush to the third floor where his uncle's new apartment is.

He still can't smell, but he remembers about how far the door is from the stairs, and the moment he's in front of it be begins to scratch frantically and whimpers more loudly than he should if he doesn't want to attract the attention of anyone else on the floor who might still be awake.

After what feels like eons but is probably less than a minute, he hears the door unlock and it finally creaks open...

.

-.-

-.-.-

It was after midnight on a weeknight, and some people were trying to sleep.

The fact that she was not presently one of them did nothing to mitigate Katara's annoyance at whatever confused drunken soul it was that was pawing at her door. This was a quiet building, with a median age of around sixty – a feature she was willing to pay almost half again in rent for. She shouldn't be having to deal with this, not after a long, frustrating day cleaning up after her newest research assistant's careless mistakes.

Katara raised her cup of chamomile tea to her lips, fully intending to call the super if the idiot out there didn't wander off in the next minute, when she heard a high pitched whimper. She paused mid-sip and turned around in her chair towards the front door, realizing that the scratching noises were coming from much lower than she would expect if it were your average drinking-age asshole.

Curiosity peaked, she stood up and approached the door, then raised herself up to her tiptoes to peer through the peephole.

She gasped at what she saw. "Oh no..."

Katara ran swiftly back to the kitchen to grab the butchers knife just in case this was some kind of sick ploy before unlocking the door and pulling it open.

"You poor thing," she cooed. The dirty, matted dog seemed to shrink in on itself at her appearance, despite looking to be at least as big as she was. Katara looked back and forth down the hall. Once assured that it was deserted she set the knife on the floor and knelt down so she was level with the frightened dog. Its eyes kept darting around nervously, confused.

Slowly as to avoid startling it, Katara held out her hand for it to sniff. It touched it's cold, wet nose against her skin before laying down and pawing anxiously at its face.

Her heart broke when she noticed the mottled skin where an ear should have been, extending down to its eye. She wished in that moment that whoever had done this actually had been waiting outside her door.

"It's okay, sweetie, I won't hurt you." She allowed her fingers to run lightly over his snout. The dog did nothing but look up helplessly at her with soft yellow eyes.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, scratching softly behind its good ear. "I don't have any dog food, but I'm sure I can find you something."

Katara backed up a little so there was room for the dog to move forward into the room.

"Come on puppy, everything's going to be okay," she coaxed.

It just sat there with worried eyes darting back and forth, up and down the hall.

She sighed and glanced at the clock just around the corner in the living room. "I need to be getting to sleep - it's a quarter past midnight - but I can't just leave you out in the hall by yourself."

They contemplated one another for another moment, his yellow eyes - one narrowed and surrounded by ruined, hairless skin – never leaving hers.

"Are you hungry?" The dog blinked, and taking this as encouragement Katara stood up and made her way over to the kitchen. "I don't have any dog food, but I do have canned tuna, I think." She dug through her drawers looking for a can opener. "Do dogs eat tuna?" She paused, head quirked to the side, but then shrugged and moved to the cupboard to retrieve a can. "It's meat, of a kind, and dogs eat meat.. I'm sure it'll do for now, at least."

Once the can was open she dumped the contents on a paper plate and turned around, jumping when she discovered the large, dark dog standing in front of her, head hanging in a resigned stance.

Katara shifted uneasily. Standing the dog reached her waist – if it was on its hind legs it would probably – definitely - be taller than she was. "I, uh, hope you like fish," she said, shuffling around him towards the table just beyond the kitchen. She placed the plate on the floor before going to close and lock the front door.

By the time she came back the dog – who she now noted was a 'he' – had gobbled up the tuna and was gnawing on the remnants of the paper plate.

Katara knelt next to him and scratched between is ears as she gently extricated what was left of the plate from his mouth. She sniffed, noticing for the first time the smell of dime-store perfume clinging to his fur. It was almost strong enough to overpower the tuna on his breath.

Almost.

It was not a pleasant combination.

"Okay, dog. Next order of business is to get you a bath."

The dog perked up, evidently recognizing the word. In contrast to her past dog-bathing related experiences (she dog sat her brother's little pekingese from time to time before he was married, and that little thing howled like she was being murdered at the mere sound of a bath running), he stood up and wagged his tail, paws tapping against the tiled floor, unable to keep still in his excitement.

Bemused, Katara led him to the bathroom with it's tiny cramped bathtub that he could just barely stand up in and proceeded to wash his soft, short fur the best she could with an unscented bar of soap. The entire time he stood stock still, almost stoic, eyes closed against the shower spray.

By the time she had him rinsed and dried, and had taken a quick shower herself, it was nearly three am.

She found the dog at the foot of her bed, right at home and snoring loudly. After taking a quick look around her room and putting away anything that might make a tempting chew toy, she too fell asleep.

-.-.-

Katara fitfully led the dog back up the stairs to her apartment, struggling against the combination of his size and sulky unwillingness to cooperate. For all his good behavior last night his leash manners left much to be desired. He would drag behind, tail between his legs until she finally had to give a little tug so he would speed up to walk next to her before eventually slowing until he was dragging again.

She was supposed to be at work, but she couldn't leave a strange one-hundred-pound-plus dog alone in her small, completely un dog-proofed apartment all day. After two years it was about time she took a sick day. So, after calling to let them know she wouldn't be in, she slept in another leisurely hour, the dog pressed against her side. She then took him with her to pick up some dog food, as well as a collar and leash after a stern warning from a foot patrolman.

When she reached the landing, coaxing along the dog behind her, she was met by a jolly voice.

"It seems that someone has found themselves a friend!"

Katara and the dog both turned their heads to see her neighbor, an older gentleman who'd just moved in a week or so ago.

"Hello...um..." She trailed off, his name escaping her.

"Iroh," he supplied good-naturedly.

"Of course, Iroh. It's nice to see you again. Are you settling in okay?"

"Fine, fine," he said, stepping forward and boldly patting the dog on the head. "And who is this handsome fellow? I don't believe I've ever seen you with him before."

The dog tensed a little at the man's approach and Katara scratched the fur between his shoulders soothingly. "I'm not sure, actually, he kind of just showed up at my door last night – he seemed a little disoriented."

"Is that so," Iroh said, a distinct note of amusement in his voice as he looked at the dog, who was now wagging his tail and looking at the man expectantly.

Katara noticed. "He seems to recognize you. Do you have any idea who his owner might be?"

The man shook his head with a chuckle, and the dog's tail immediately drooped.

"No, I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea."

"He was so dirty when I found him, and with the scar on his face..." here the dog drooped even more "...I thought he might be a stray. But he's so well behaved, and he is such a beautiful dog..." and here his tail began to wag a bit again "... there must be someone who's missing him somewhere."

Iroh rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps. I'll keep my eye out and tell you if I see anything." He then gave a little bow of his head. "You have a lovely day, Katara, Zuko.".

Katara furrowed her eyebrows in confusion "Zuko?" she said to his back as he made his way towards the stairs, causing him to pause mid-step.

"My favorite nephew," he explained lightly. "Your dog bears and uncanny resemblance to him."

And he was again on his way. It was an odd thing to say, but then he was a rather odd, if friendly, man.

"Zuko," Katara repeated thoughtfully. She looked down at the dog, meeting his yellow eyes. "I suppose that's as good a name as any. Better than 'dog' at least, right?" The newly dubbed Zuko wagged his tail in agreement.

As she walked towards her apartment, the dog thankfully cooperating, the older man called up the stairs one more time.

"You might want to take him to the vet, by the way, to make sure he has a clean bill of health!"

And after that Zuko not only dragged behind, he dropped completely to the ground, face buried under his paws.

-.-.-

Luckily her assistant loved animals, and was more than willing to take Zuko to his vet appointment despite it being not even remotely related to his job description. Aang was a nice boy – he was only two years younger than her but had such a baby face it was difficult to think of him as anything else – and bright and eager, but his attention span needed a lot of work.

Katara was just sitting to her desk to do the write ups for the week's data when her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen before answering.

"Aang? Is everything going okay?"

"Oh, yeah, it's fine," he chirped on the other end. "Uh... they did kind of sedate him. He really doesn't like needles."

Katara cringed. "He didn't cause too much trouble, did he?"

"No, no – he was just, um, growling a lot. They don't think he really would have hurt anyone, but since he's so big they thought it would be best..."

She sighed. "Right, of course. Is there anything else?"

"Oh yeah! They wanted to know if you wanted to schedule an appointment to have him neutered"

Katara leaned back in her chair and fiddled with her pen. "I think we should probably hold off on that for now. It's only been a week – I don't want to do anything permanent like that if there might still be someone looking for him."

"Okee-dokee! So, I'll just leave him with Bumi's secretary when we get back?"

Bumi, or rather Doctor Bumi, was the director of the facility. He spent most of his time arranging funding, but Katara had interacted with him enough to know that he was extremely eccentric, an impression reaffirmed when he'd called her the afternoon after she found (was found by?) Zuko and insisted she bring her dog with her to work the next day. She couldn't get out of him how he knew she had a dog, especially since it had been less than twenty four hours ("When you get to my age you have your ways of keeping informed" he'd said enigmatically before cackling), but Bumi was known to often be aware of things he shouldn't so she didn't think too much of it. He was also known to be an animal lover. This way she wouldn't have to worry about what to do with Zuko while she was at work, so she agreed.

Although at this point Katara felt she could safely leave the dog at home in her apartment without having to worry about coming home to any destruction, Bumi loved having him around. She was also able to take him for a walk while she ate her lunch. So Zuko had been spending most of his time while Katara worked snoozing next to the desk of the director's secretary and frightening less welcome visitors with a well-timed growl.

"Mmhm, yeah, that's fine. Thanks again, Aang," she said absently, anxious to get back to work.

"No problem! He's such a sweet puppy. Well, when he's not growling.. which is a lot of the time. But his bark is worse than his bite, haha."

-.-.-

Zuko never growled at Katara.

So she covered the phone receiver with her hand and let out a little sigh of relief when the man at the animal shelter reported that there still had been no inquiries about a dog matching the description she'd given them. Over the course of just a few weeks the big, furry mutt had burrowed his way firmly into her heart to the point where the thought that someone might call looking for him filled her with dread.

She patted Zuko's head, which he was currently resting in her lap. He blinked his lopsided yellow eyes at her sleepily and yawned before nuzzling more firmly into the couch cushions he was spread out on, his long legs dangling over the edge.

"Okay, well... I guess I'll check back in a few days."

"You can if you want," the man on the other end said. "But it's been almost a month – at this point it's a pretty safe bet that no one's going to show up looking for him."

Katara nodded to herself, her lips turning up in a smile when Zuko leaned his head into her hand as she scratched behind his ear.

"Right. Thank you for your time." She hung up the the phone, humming a little to herself. She carefully removed herself from underneath the dog – her dog, really, and went to retrieve the leash. "Ready to go for a walk, boy?"

At this Zuko raised his head and slowly rolled himself onto his feet, stretching leisurely, and then trotted over to her. He still wasn't exactly fond of the leash, but he no longer dragged behind her. He now limited his show of distaste to a put-upon sigh when she hooked it to his collar.

Out in the hallway they met Iroh on his way in, both of them recognizing his distinctive scent of tea and patchouli before actually seeing him. Zuko snorted and plopped down into a sitting position as the old man approached.

"Why if it isn't my favorite neighbors. Good afternoon Katara, Zuko." He chuckled to himself and reached out that pat the dog, completely unfazed by his low growl.

"Zuko," Katara scolded. "That's not how you greet people." Zuko huffed and slumped a little so he was staring at the ground. "I'm sorry Iroh. I don't know why he does that."

Iroh waved her off smilingly. "He's probably just protective of his new mistress," he said with a strange wink. At this Zuko looked up, and almost seemed to glare. "I highly doubt he's a danger to anyone – if for no other reason than that he knows it would upset you."

Katara raised and eyebrow at the level of insight Iroh was attributing to a dog, but didn't argue.

"You're right, he just likes to put on a show of being tough. He's really very gentle, if grumpy." She rubbed the dog's head fondly, who for his part seemed to be finished with the conversation, because he stood up and stepped impatiently towards the staircase.

Iroh laughed again. "I should let you two be on you way. I believe there will be a full moon the night after next," he said thoughtfully. "Well, goodbye."

Katara just shook her head – every conversation she had with him seemed to end with his saying something befuddlingly odd.

-.-.-

Zuko had been acting very oddly all day. Actually, he had been acting oddly ever since his evening walk the day before. When he wasn't pacing around the apartment, often underfoot as Katara attempted to go about her usual Sunday cleaning routine, he was trying to climb into Katara's lap, apparently forgetting or ignoring that fact that he was bigger than her and making it very difficult for her to concentrate on what she was reading as he sniffled at her hair and tried to lick her cheek.

"What is wrong with you today?" she said as she once again pushed the dog off of her. It was just now getting dark and the evening news played in the background as she attempted to read her email."Why are you being so clingy?"

In response Zuko licked the palm of her hand and rested his head on her shoulder, causing her heart to melt a little She set her tablet down on the coffee table so she could wrap him in a hug.

"You are such a sweet dog," she said, placing a kiss over what was left of his left ear.

Zuko sighed in contentment and laid down so he was half in her lap. Katara smiled fondly and decided to let him be. Heavy though he was, his warm weight was comforting, and together they dozed off in front of the flickering television screen.

When she woke she was alone. The television was off and around her shoulders was a soft blanket she kept draped over the head of a little-used rocking chair in the corner. With light from the moon streaming in through the window between the gap in the curtains she could just make out the room about her.

"Zuko?" she called groggily, wondering where he could be. For the past few weeks he'd been glued to her side every night and it was disconcerting to wake up without him nearby.

She sat up, pushing the blanket to the floor. "Zuko? Where are you?"

But the now familiar sound of claws tapping against the tile floor didn't meet her calls. She stood up and flipped on the nearest light switch, squinting against the bright light. "Zuko!"

From room to room she searched, more frantic at each moment.

He wasn't here, he wasn't anywhere in the apartment. She flew around, searching for any sign of a break in. The door was locked but the deadbolt was undone, though she was almost certain she'd locked it when she and Zuko came in from his evening walk. Her keys hung in their usual place on a hook just outside the kitchen, but the apartment key was missing from the ring. Instead it was on the floor just inside the front door, as if someone had slipped it under from the other side.

-.-.-

-.-

.

Uncle is already gone by the time Zuko wakes up, off to wherever it is he's always disappearing ("top secret old people business" he sings with a chuckle whenever asked). It feels strange waking up here, on this couch made from brown leather rather than artificial suede that sinks under his weight rather than firmly supporting it. In an apartment with a familiar layout but different scents and accents. In a body with long fur-less limbs that smells and hears much less but can see colors that he'd almost forgotten existed in his month of exile.

He groans, which comes out sounding like an almost dog-ish whimper, and blinks blearily at the leather collar sitting right at eye level on the coffee table where he'd placed it after Uncle helpfully pointed out that he still had it on. A pang shoots through him at the thought of his master–no, Katara – and how she's reacting to his disappearance.

Before his train of thought, one that would surely lead to no where pleasant for him (guilt, worry, more guilt), can get any further three purposeful knocks at the front door interrupts it. He rolls off the couch, landing on all fours out of habit, much to his chagrin, and quickly digs through the travel bag that sits next to the couch right where he left it a month ago before deciding to go out for a walk – against his Uncle's advice, who was no doubt trying to teach him a lesson by not claiming him that first morning.

After finding and pulling on a shirt Zuko goes to the front door and opens it without bothering to look through the peephole to see who it is.

He should have. In front of him stands his mast – no, Katara – her eyes still rimmed with red though it's evident that she's taken great pains to pull herself together. Her hair is brushed and pulled back and she's dressed in a flattering pair of slacks and a simple blue blouse.

Zuko's mouth goes dry. As a dog he'd been convinced that she was the kindest and smartest and best smelling person he'd ever met, but now seeing in his human form he has another superlative to add to the list : most beautiful.

He can't take his eyes off of hers, mesmerized by the clear, bright blue that he'd never been able to appreciate before, and for a moment she seems similarly mesmerized. But then he ruins it.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" he blurts. This causes young woman to furrow her brows and cross her arms.

"My boss gave me the morning off," she says flatly, eyes slightly narrowed. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

Zuko coughs. "I'm, uh, between jobs..." He feels his neck flush and catches himself start to rub at the back of it uneasily. They're both silent, he awkwardly shifting from foot to foot as she sizes him up.

"Your eyes are yellow," she says. It sounds like an accusation.

He jerks up one shoulder in a shrug. "My mom always said they were gold," he says lightly. Katara says and does nothing in response.

"So, how can I... uh, help you?"

She sniffs and holds out a piece of paper. "You uncle slipped this under my door – it says you might know something about my dog. You are his nephew, I'm assuming."

"Yes, that's me." He tries to smile, something he wasn't very used to doing before he spent a solid month as a dog. "Zuko, the nephew." Cold sweat threatens to form on his forehead.

"Maybe we should sit down?" he suggests in a voice that squeaks towards the end, and he steps aside to make room for her to come in. She cranes her head a little to peer into the apartment but doesn't make any move to enter.

"Some tea maybe?" He suggests weakly. She doesn't respond, but he fumbles towards the kitchen anyway, stubbing his toe on an end table. "I think he has chamomile..." he calls.

He hears the door close and her low heeled pumps click tentatively towards the living room.

"Chamomile is fine..." she says slowly.

A kettle of water is set on the stove and Zuko is retrieving a couple of mugs.

"Great!" he says a little too loudly. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at making tea, though my uncles says I'm improving..."

There's no response. After just a few moments the silence feels almost oppressive.

"Katara?" he calls out. He turns around and jumps a little when he finds Katara standing about a yard away from him, a leather collar dangling from her fist.

Her voice is low, dangerous. "Where did you get this?"

Shit. "Get what...?" he tries to say innocently.

But she's having none of it. "What did you do with him?"

Zuko winces a little at the edge in her voice.

"I can explain –"

She backs him up against the counter, which he clutches with both hands to keep himself upright.

"Then explain."

This girl isn't much more than half his size, but the look in her eyes tells of someone who knows how to cause pain.

"I'msosorryI'mZukoImeanZukothedogitwasalljustabigmisunderstanding-" The kettle's whistle pierces the air, cutting him off. Katara takes a step back and he swiftly moves to turn off the burner.

"What?" At least some of the anger seems to have been pushed out by confusion.

Zuko turns back to her. "Um..."

She shakes her head and hold out a hand for him to stop. "Barely a word of what you just said made any sense. Start again, slowly."

He scratches the back of his head and sighs.

"I have a... medical condition..."

.

the end

(bark bark)

A/N, because people are expecting more and I feel bad? Sorry, that was really the end! I seem to have this thing for ending stories right at the very moment a new relationship dynamic is formed, which probably says something about me psychologically? I guess I just always prefer the movie to the spin off series. For all intents and purposes this is the end of this self contained story, although I'm not totally averse to writing some drabbles in this universe on my tumblr and am highly susceptible to bribes.