Chapter Text
drip
Zuko knew something had jolted him awake, and so began to blink sleep from his eyes. The wooden slats of the window were worn and cracked with neglect, and was doing little to keep the gleam of the sunrise out. He could see the entirety of the room without having to lift his head and saw nothing out of the ordinary. The spring morning was bringing in a chilled breeze that shivered him further awake. Zuko was quick to realize it hadn’t been the reoccurring blue flamed dreams that had been the culprit. Instead it had felt like –
drip
This time the droplet landed not on the pillow, but on his good cheek. Zuko wiped at his face as he got up on one elbow. A piece of the ceiling above, the size of an outstretched hand, was a shade darker than he’d noticed the night before. Another small drop landed on his forehead and he grunted in annoyance. The roof would need new tiles perhaps, before another spring shower could worsen the structure to a moldy, leaky mess if it wasn’t already.
That’s just great.
Zuko huffed as he sat up. He knew their landlord wouldn’t lift a finger. In fact, there was a better chance that his own lackluster, patched up job would see the ends of the building before renovations would ever be implemented.
He dreaded moments like these, reminding him that he was no longer of royal standing. The suffering didn’t come from enduring the simple tasks so much as it did with the fact that they were the tasks of a laborer. A non-consequential commoner. The hardly-there-mat they called a bed led to fitful sleep and a sore neck, and the room was a bite sized portion of what he’d grown up in at the palace. It was just as he’d endured during the years at sea, but now with no title or even a crew.
Every one of his senses were bombarded with things he couldn’t quite get used to in Ba Sing Se. He hated the smells of the cooking oils that permeated the streets. He hated the dust that constantly made them feel gritty and dry; hated the sounds of yelling commoners and children below. If he allowed himself to become even somewhat comfortable out here, if he allowed this to become something of a home, he feared becoming resigned like Iroh. Wouldn’t that be a form of betrayal to his nation? He would rather take a bolt of lightening than let that happen.
In his naive years, their bloodline had always felt like a lucky draw in life. Now however…his luck seemed to have been a mere illusion his mother had delicately kept alive in their childhood.
As the darkness faded away, so did any chance of more sleep. There was no point in staying in bed to sulk, as tempting as it was. The day would start a bit sooner than usual. There would be tea and simple fried fish and rice. And then, another day of work as Lee the server.
…☼...
Uncle Iroh was thriving in the quaint tea shop that seemed to be his in all but name.
The customers came for his new brews and engaging company. Word was spreading of the genial old man who was bringing a touch of high end class to the middle ring. There was praise and recognition that came with a man like his uncle, almost inevitably so. It worried Zuko, because when was it ever a good sign when he was being the cautious one of the two? It seemed to be happening more and more these days. If it was all somehow part of a calculated long term plan, Zuko had no insight to Iroh’s train of thought as usual.
Zuko scowled as more people crowded into seats for the afternoon rush.
“Nephew! Make yourself useful!” Iroh was already deep in conversation with a kindly regular before Zuko could utter a response. He took a tray and marched over to the nearest table to take orders.
Browns, greens, blacks. The day passed in a drab blur. Scooping tea leaves, pushing in chairs, sweeping the floors. It was all easy enough; at least there was that. Eventually in the lull of the early evening there was a moment of calm. This was usually when he ate a meager meal, but his sour mood and thoughts had led to a loss of appetite. How could he ever truly relax surrounded by faces of the enemy?
Zuko looked out the open doors for some relief of –
blue
Zuko stilled mid-step. He shed Lee’s monotonous face as trained instincts kicked in. He hadn’t imagined the flash of color outside the store, he was sure of it. He didn’t know what that meant, what it might lead to, but Zuko had never been one to think things through. For now the only word screaming internally was follow.
As calmly as he could, Zuko half-shouted out that they were running low on something – jasmine leaves he thinks – and ran out into the street before another second threatened to take away his lead. A crowd of greens and yellows surrounded him. Had it been a low flying bird? No, no he was sure it hadn’t been.
blue cloth like waves
He turned left, towards the markets and alleyways that were now as familiar as the back of his hand. His eyes led as his feet followed. Faster and faster through the slow crowd. A man with a cart of cabbage blocked his path and in haste, Zuko pressed hard against the wood to project himself around it. His right foot almost slipped on a stray cabbage leaf and the old man yelled after him rather loudly. Feeling frustrated as he ran, Zuko felt flames threatening to burst from his fingers. It was in that a moment of annoyance when he turned and saw her.
There stood the waterbender in colors so distinctly out of place that it had his heart thrumming with something akin to nostalgia. A breath of his old life in the new. The last time they’d seen each other, they’d parted on somewhat amicable terms. But now months later, he tried to find his parting words foreign and flimsy. If he allowed that, perhaps he could pretend they’d never been uttered.
Zuko realized he would be visible head-on if she turned around. Even in earthbender attire, his scar would be immediately recognizable. He quickly stepped into the shadow of a shop’s awning. He could smell the warm ingredients of the dumpling meats and vegetables behind him, recognizing it as one of the larger establishments in the area that his uncle was quite fond of. From there he watched as the waterbender looked into a stall of fruits. She was still faced away and close enough to a deserted alleyway that a well timed push could separate them from the crowd and…
Then what? What could he do here and now? He forced a deep breath to reduce inner flames to embers. Zuko knew if the waterbender felt threatened she would never go down without a fight, but his swords were wrapped up under his mattress. Fire would be immediate trouble and out of the question. With the Dai Li lurking everywhere, there couldn’t be the risk of exposure on his part.
The girl was beginning to wander again, arms full. He guessed she was finishing up to leave the marketplace. Zuko’s eyes widened. Would this day be graced with luck after all? The peasant could lead him directly to the Avatar’s base. It would be a chance at something that had been lost for so long. Whatever was making him falter – perhaps his parting words which in fact had been genuine at the time – was suppressed with thoughts of home. He decided he would follow. Whatever happened, he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t.
“Would you like something young man?”
Zuko turned his head, halting mid-step. A man stood with cooking utensils, watching expectantly from behind a counter.
“Everything is freshly made. Our vegetarian options are very popular!” He clarified loudly.
“Not interested,” Zuko muttered angrily, dismissing his distraction with a grunt. As his eyes adjusted back to the movement of the marketplace, he tried to spot the waterbender again. She had slipped away, true to her element’s capabilities. Had she changed her direction last second?
He knew he was openly glaring at this point but it couldn’t be helped. The monorails, he thought suddenly. Of course the Avatar would be housed in the upper rings. He realized: She must be going back past the tea shop. With nothing but urgency fueling him, Zuko failed to realize that the waterbender had walked in half a circle into his blind-spot towards the dumpling shop instead of returning to the main path as he’d predicted.
Unfortunately for Zuko, there were a couple factors that couldn’t have been predicted even with all the luck in the world: He couldn’t have known that Katara had skipped breakfast that morning due to mounting stress; that in his momentary distraction, his scar had been obscured from view and detection; and that Katara was carrying a heavy heart and in want of a distraction, had decided last minute to remain in the marketplace a while longer to fill her belly.
Their bodies roughly collided when Zuko stepped into the waning sunlight. Something rolled away to his left, lost to the moving feet of oblivious citizens. He froze at the sound of her familiar gasp. When he looked down, his amber eyes widened with mirrored shock before he steeled himself for whatever would come next.