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Katara’s breaths are ragged, feeling so painful, it’s making her nauseous. Zuko had told her to count her breaths backwards by units of seven, hold for five, breathe out for seven. He said that she needed something, anything else to focus on.
She doesn’t speak for hours. It hurts to speak as if anything she could say – attempts to say – gets lodged in her throat. It feels so much worse than when she’d been trapped in the Si Wong desert, throat painfully dry and itchy from thirst.
“There’s a storm coming.” Zuko announces, his voice cuts through the silence. Katara can feel the storm in the air, prickling at her skin. But with her attention somewhere else entirely, she hadn’t paid attention to how severe it was and how close it was getting. “We need to land and give Appa a rest, anyway.”
Appa rumbles in agreement.
Right. They had flown non-stop for over a day. She needs to apologize to Appa. Make it up to him, somehow. Maybe give him several servings of fruit.
The weather is overcast with swirling, twisting clouds; mirroring the inner turmoil she feels – it wants to be released, clawing within her like some ugly, wretched thing. But – she doesn’t – doesn’t know how to release it without looking like – something inhuman.
Something her parents – her mother would be ashamed of.
Aang’s there too, and she can picture his expression of – she can’t focus on that right now.
It’s not long after they reach a cave that rain pours down across the landscape.
Katara sits and stares at the campfire Zuko started, her breathing isn’t as raggedly painful anymore. She watches as he begins to cook a basic meal of stew. She’s glad – relieved that he’s here, doing everything that normally fell on her shoulders.
The hurt and the anger she felt towards him is numb – gone, even. It has been, for a while, she admits to herself.
“…Do you think I did the right thing?” she asks. The guilt eats at her, weighing heavy in her stomach. She shouldn’t feel like this. Not towards that man – not a man. A deplorable monster.
Except he wasn’t a monster as she finally confronted him.
Why does it feel like she has to argue and convince herself?
Zuko turns to look at her. The firelight reflects in his eyes, making them especially golden. He turns from her and refocuses on the stew he’s currently slowly stirring. It’s oddly hypnotizing.
“…You’re the only one who can answer that.” Zuko finally replies. “Because there’s no answer I could give you that you would be happy with.” He shrugs half-heartedly. “Anything I say, you’d pick apart and question and it would only make you doubt yourself more.”
She hates that Zuko is right. She wishes the answer would just come to her far more easily than this. Was there even a right answer?
“…Here.” Zuko gives her a small bowl of basic stew.
Breathe in.
It smells delicious.
She’s afraid she’s going to puke.
Even though she tells herself she isn’t hungry, her stomach growls loudly in anticipation. Zuko doesn’t say a word as he settles against the opposite cave wall with his own bowl.
It’d be a shame to waste it.
Breathe out.
It tastes good, even as numb as she feels.
It warms her hands.
There’s so much relief that she doesn’t throw up what she’s eaten.
The silence between them is companionable. Appa is grumbling contentedly as he sleeps. In the morning, he’ll probably eat some of the plants outside. The rain hasn’t slowed down. The white noise of it is pleasant; it should be peaceful, with her element right there.
Images of Yon-Rha flash in her mind.
Icicles rising high, raining down – skewering --
The rain is not as peaceful anymore.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Her voice is a painful whisper, just loud enough to be heard. “I was – I was going to let him live.”
By saying it aloud, it was as if she were admitting it to anyone else who would eventually hear the story.
Zuko looks at her. There is no judgment or pity in his expression. There is sadness, as if he understands in a way only he could.
“I know.”
It’s just two simple words, but they encompass everything. The rawness, the ugly, and the guilt. The wounds are a little less severe.
She had seen how pathetic Yon-Rha was. The monster who had haunted her nightmares was nothing more than a sniveling, old man. He’d offered up his own mother. In that moment, she’d wondered what kind of person would do that? Katara had stopped the icicles just inches from him. And then let gallons of ice-cold water fall onto him.
He wasn’t worth it. But yet, her hunt for revenge had been satisfying.
She turned away, and then Zuko yelled her name – he was moving, ready to attack and defend, looking behind her.
Katara had reacted instinctively.
Yon-Rha rushed towards Katara, his fist on fire. Before Katara could fully process it, wondering why he would even attempt such a foolish thing – his clothing was still soaked. All it really took was Katara yanking at the water in such a way, turning the water in his clothing to hundreds of needle-thin icicles once again – pulling at the moister in the air. Enough of the Moon was still out that she had unwittingly (or intentionally? She didn’t know) pulled at his blood, too.
Icicles mixed with his blood stuck out of him at every angle. Yon-Rha wheezed as he lay on the ground, an expression of shock on his withered face.
She could feel his life leaving him as blood pooled out onto the ground.
She was shocked by what she’d done.
She didn’t have a choice – she was only – she was defending herself! (Why did it sound like a pathetic excuse?) He deserved it. (Why did it sound like she was desperately trying to convince herself?)
He’d deserved it back then. He’d deserved it now.
Didn’t he?
Zuko grabbed her arm and pulled her with him. She was numb, she could hardly feel his grip. He was talking, but she couldn’t register what he was saying. His words were muffled by the thundering sound of her heartbeat in her ears.
Maybe there was some kind of twisted justice, there.
Kya had been murdered by fire; and Yon-Rha was killed by ice.
“…He’d still be alive if I hadn’t hunted him down.” Katara quietly says. Because she knows what people, angry and accusing will say. She hates that it’s Aang’s voice in her head speaking those accusations.
If no-one has discovered the body by now, perhaps the rain has washed everything away. It’s too bad the rain can’t do the same with her guilt.
“By that logic, your mom would still be alive if it wasn’t for him.” Zuko replies. “There are numerous ways things could have been different.
“The Southern Water Tribes, the Air Nomads, thousands of people in the Earth Kingdom…they’d all be alive if Sozin wasn’t such a power-hungry asshole. Azulon didn’t have to carry on his legacy, but he did. Ozai – he – Azula and I…we could have had a normal childhood, and my mother would still be here.
“…Yon-Rha would probably still be alive if he hadn’t decided to kill your mother. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered who took her because we could have staged a prison break to rescue her. Maybe he’d still be alive if I hadn’t decided to help you find him. If he hadn’t tried to attack you with your back turned, he’d still be alive. You were defending yourself. You showed him mercy, and he threw it back in your face.”
Katara nods, sniffling and wiping at the tears that start to fall. The guilt she feels isn’t as raw anymore. She feels less nauseous.
“He was one of your citizens.”
“…So are a lot of other people who have done just as terrible things, if not worse.” Zuko looks…resigned. He knows very well what the Fire Nation has done. “…I don’t know if all of them will be held accountable. If they ever will.”
She has learned that life isn’t black-and-white. She’d been naïve. Life is hardly ever fair when it comes to holding people accountable.
Katara had her justice, but she isn’t sure this is how she wanted it.
“I just…” her voice trails off, unsure of what she should say. Or what she’s trying to say.
“Do you want me to be angry at you?”
Wiping away a stray tear, Katara sniffs and shakes her head. She doesn’t know.
“…Do you think I should have forgiven him?”
“Maybe there’ll come a day that you will.” Zuko says it in a way that once again makes it obvious he understands in a way that only he could. He’s the only one who knows; completely understands in ways she’s not even sure Sokka can.
He doesn’t pressure her to forgive, which she highly appreciates.
Her stew is gone, now.
She thinks of how nice it is to not have to worry about the mundane tasks that have always fallen on her ever since Mom had died.
Ever since Zuko joined them, he’s helped with these tasks without prompting. She’d been annoyed and suspicious, thinking that it was some elaborate ploy. But that wasn’t the case. His helpfulness was simply just another aspect of him.
She knows a little about the Fire Prince, but Katara doesn’t truly know him. She finds that she wants to get to know who he is – who he truly is. She’d seen a preview of him in the Catacombs. She suspects that if she asks, he will tell her.
They lay on the cave floor and Zuko listens to the rain outside, Appa’s rumbling, and the crackling of their campfire. He hears Katara’s breathing but can tell she isn’t asleep.
“Zuko?” Katara’s voice reaches out to him. Speaking up to be heard over the din, but not loud enough to wake him just in case he was asleep.
Zuko hums his acknowledgment.
“Can you – can you talk to me? Please? About anything? I just...I need to focus on something else.”
Zuko tells her about confronting his father, and about his declaration of training Aang to defeat him.
“He implied that my mother is still alive, out there, somewhere. But I don’t know if he was telling the truth.”
“…I’ll help you look for her when this is all over.” Katara says sleepily.
A quiet hope fills him. That maybe Katara has forgiven him of one of the biggest regrets of his life.
He tells her of Ember Island, of a time when his family had the illusion of normality and happiness. He talks to her until she finally falls asleep.
Something that Zuko doesn’t tell her is that a part of him is jealous of her. It sounds so wrong. Maybe in the future when things aren’t so confusing and raw for her, he’ll admit that he is jealous that she could kill her mother’s murderer.
When he’d confronted his father, Zuko could have killed him. Ozai was right there – defenseless without the Sun. It wouldn’t have been honorable. His father had killed his own father for the Throne. Zuko would have been like Ozai if he had. He wants to distance himself as much as he possibly can from the man.
The world saw Ozai as a tyrant, and the Fire Nation would have seen Zuko as just another tyrant.
Her dreams consist of Mom, burning and Yon-Rha bleeding. Sokka looks at her with horror. Aang looks disappointed. Toph is congratulating her and hands Katara a wrestling belt. Zuko is there, surrounded by glowing green crystals and he holds up a necklace and offers overly bitter tea – and then pirates surround them dancing and singing old songs from her Tribe.
Her nonsensical dream is hardly relaxing.
“So, did you forgive him?”
Aang’s voice shouldn’t be this grating. Not when he’s so wide-eyed and hopeful – looking at her with those eyes that only see the good in her. She’s on an impossibly high pedestal, and it’s not fair.
She knows that she’s going to fall from such a great height in Aang’s eyes. She will crash and crumble at the bottom, shattering that impossibly picture-perfect image he’s constantly insisted on holding of her.
Sokka is looking at her too. The words she’d said to him ring loudly in her ears. She doesn’t know what Sokka expects of her – will he see her differently when she finally reveals the truth?
“I…didn’t.” Katara admits. “I…” she takes in a deep breath, knowing she’s about to shred everything that Aang so obviously adores about her.
Will Sokka also be disappointed? Angry?
“We…we found him.” Katara takes a breath. She inadvertently bites her lip hard enough to taste blood and she swallows heavily. She must control herself. She’s mentally practiced for this moment of painful confession.
Her voice doesn’t exactly sound like her own as she tells the others what happened. Sokka’s eyebrows are furrowed with concern. Aang’s eyes are wide and filled with optimism.
Katara gets to the end where she admits that she killed Yon-Rha. It was obviously self-defense –
“How could you?!” Aang is yelling at her. His voice cracks with emotion and the child that he still is. As she knew would happen, the wonderful image of her Aang has held onto so dearly – desperately – has been thoroughly shattered beyond repair.
Knowing how he would respond and seeing it all unravel before her, Katara finds that she’s apathetic. Maybe everything that has happened these past few days has contributed to it. The exhaustion, and constantly trying to make sure Aang was protected from the worst that the world had to offer since he’s lost his people.
As Toph would say, she coddles Aang. After what Aang had told her; after this – Katara isn’t sure she can try to protect Aang anymore. Because he doesn’t seem to get it – as if he refuses to truly understand the undesirable situation they’ve found themselves in.
“I thought you were better than that!”
“Do not talk to Katara like that.” Zuko’s voice is calm and authoritative.
“This is because of you!” Aang shouts accusingly at Zuko, and his brow arches as Aang’s voice cracks with either his emotions or puberty; Katara can’t tell.
Sokka looks between Aang, Katara, and Zuko. He wants to say something, but Aang isn’t giving him the chance.
“You forced Katara into making a choice--!”
“Zuko didn’t force me into anything!” Katara isn’t yelling, but she’s very near doing so. Without really thinking of it or why she does it, she steps between Zuko and Aang so that all of his anger will be focused on her.
Aang looks at her, imploringly. “Katara, the Monks talked about revenge being something you can never walk away from…”
Aang’s voice drowns out, turning into white noise that roars in Katara’s ears. Her annoyance and anger start to rise. Aang sounds so desperate, as if she had jumped headfirst from a cliff. As if she had no plans for how she was going to land. As if there was no going back.
Maybe there isn’t.
“Did you not hear the part where I was defending myself?” Katara snaps sharply. Aang looks shocked that she’d cut him off. “I was going to let him live, but he’s the one who chose to attack when my back was turned!”
“He’d still be alive if Zuko hadn’t put you up to it! The Monks never encouraged violence of any kind--”
“Stop it!” Katara yells, swiping her hand furiously in a downward motion. The grass withers as she rips water from it and ice spreads across the ground. There is such a divide; a disconnect that Aang can’t seem to grasp, and Katara wishes that Aang would just understand.
“Just stop talking about the Monks! I am not a Monk!”
Now, Katara is yelling. She’s exhausted, frustrated, and furious. The ugly wound has been ripped open.
“Katara, this isn’t you!”
“You don’t know me, Aang! You refuse to see me!” Katara jabs a finger at herself.
“I do know you! That’s why I’m telling you – the man who killed your mother, if you had just forgiven him—"
“Aang, seriously – you need to stop.” Toph steps in, putting a hand on Aang’s arm.
“Katara, I think you should –” Zuko’s voice is close but so far away in her ears. She feels his hand touch her shoulder in an attempt to get her attention.
But he’s cut off when Aang argues.
“No!” Aang insists. “Katara – you’re good, kind, and gentle.”
He sounds desperate – as if he’s trying to convince her as much as he’s convinced himself.
Aang has always seen the good in her. It can be such a wonderful quality to look for the good in people. But refusing to see the negative can be so grating. Seeing only the good in someone only sets them up to fail disastrously when they inevitably disappoint.
He’s refused to see her – the bitter rawness that brings out the worst of her ugliness. The part of her that is capable of doing something cruel. Doing something she never thought she ever would – even if it was in self-defense. The person who is angry and fights and willing to draw blood with her words.
The Bloodbender –
Aang’s words are more like a taunt. ‘This isn’t you.’
She’s tried to be gentle. It’s as if she’s been forced again – she’s partially responsible for this, Katara knows. But Aang has forced her here, the grip he has on her – he hasn’t let her go.
Her tears are hot, rolling down her face. “Just because you could get over the deaths of your people like they don’t matter doesn’t mean I have to get over mine!”
The words slipped out – she didn’t mean to say them. They were harsh and cruel, and entirely unnecessary. She doesn’t know if Aang feels grief the same way she does. She’d seen him cry a few times, but – his grief has never seemed to match up with hers. He was able to move on so much more easily.
Is that how the Monks were, or just how Aang simply is? Is he able to let go and forgive so much easier than she ever could?
With grim realization – she’s never truly asked. She’s offered up communication and support. But Aang had seemed fine – maybe he wasn’t – maybe he pretended that everything was okay when he was hurting just as much.
Aang stumbles back as if she’d slapped him with an ice-shard-filled water whip.
“Whoa, Katara…” Sokka doesn’t seem to know what to say.
Toph’s mouth is open in shock.
“Come on, guys we need to calm down.” Suki is speaking in a commanding yet soothing tone of voice, trying to get everyone to not argue.
Aang is crying now, too. He looks at Zuko. “Everything was better until you came along!”
“That is not true—!” Katara starts to defend Zuko. But Zuko places a hand on her shoulder. He doesn’t have to say anything for her to understand that he’s willing to let Aang yell at him. He shouldn’t have to feel that obligation.
But Zuko’s expression is different this time – a look of sadness – a silent look of comradery. Zuko says so much with his silence. There’s a hint of disappointment, but it doesn’t seem to be directed towards her.
His expression shifts to Aang, briefly – as if knowing that there will be an unwanted, burdensome but highly necessary conversation in the near future. It’s better to happen sooner than later.
“Katara, that was – I think we all need to calm down, like Suki said.” Zuko says seriously, looking at her. He turns to Aang. “Aang. We should-”
A gust of wind as Aang airbends away from them cuts him off.
Aang always runs away.
And this time, she had been the one to make him do it.
Bitter guilt claws at her. She never wanted to hurt Aang. She should have talked to him earlier – instead of ignoring it and pretending his feelings were just a fleeting thing. Had this conversation with him before it caused everything to erupt between them.
It shouldn’t have taken this for everything to be settled between them. There’s no coming back from this. The idealized version of Katara has been forever altered in Aang’s innocent perception of her.
She wishes it had been different.
Such a large part of her doesn’t care, but there’s an underlying guilt whispering that she should.
It’s not a place she’s willing to return. It’s a bitterly harsh fact that she is willing to live with and Aang must accept.
She tempers down the gnawing guilt. Katara decides that she will apologize for what she said – but not for what she did.
Zuko sighs. “As I was saying, we should take some time – and um, talk things out when emotions aren’t so high. My uncle would have a saying for this situation…”
“Katara…”
“…What do you want, Sokka?” Katara wipes at her face and dries her tears with waterbending.
Without prompting, Zuko pulls Toph away with him, though she gives half-hearted protests – as it that was expected of her. Toph could escape if she wanted to.
“Fine, I’ll go – but you have to carry me.”
Zuko accepts and bends down so Toph can climb on his back.
He then asks Suki to help him with something. Katara appreciates him all the more for that. Suki gives Katara a sad but assuring smile as she leaves. She also gives Sokka a look – gentle and firm. They already have their own silent communication.
Sokka simply nods, standing stiff and awkward. As if unsure what to do with his hands.
She is ready to fight and argue if she must. There is a bitter bite in her words. “Do you think Aang’s right about me?”
“…I’m sorry.” Sokka’s voice is guilt-ridden. “I…didn’t think about how Mom’s death affected you.”
Katara bites back her words – there are so many responses she wants to say – hurt and bitter barbed words that will pierce deeply and be near-impossible to remove.
But she looks at Sokka and takes in his expression. He looks hurt and so young, like the boy who was with her when their father left them behind to fight in this War.
Katara keeps her voice even. She doesn’t accuse but states a fact. “You never had to think about it.”
He’s looking at her with those eyes. Maybe Sokka is truly seeing her. The girl who had to fight and survive. The girl who’s mother died in her place. The girl who undeniably had blood on her hands.
Sokka grips his arm in the way he does when he’s thinking.
“…You should have had my side.” Katara says after a moment. Her voice holds no emotion, but the tears are still there. “She died because of me.”
There’s a heavy silence between them. Only the sounds of the ocean and the distant cries of seabirds are what fills the air.
Sokka is the first to speak, his voice quiet. “You’re my sister…I wish you didn’t have to feel obligated to face him. You shouldn’t have had to – I didn’t want you to…” Sokka’s brow furrows and he bites his lip. “…I didn’t want to lose you, too.”
There’s more than one meaning in what he says, Katara realizes.
His voice cracks ever so slightly. “It’s a man’s job to protect his family – and – I wanted to protect you. I’m not doing a very good job of it, am I?”
She’s drained, and so, so exhausted from fighting.
They’re all kids, who have been unfairly shoved into this War and scrambling trying to figure out how they will survive.
“I shouldn’t have said that about you loving Mom.” Katara replies, and she pulls her brother into a hug. “I’m sorry.”
Sokka’s grip around her is so strong. It’s a familiar feeling of home, where she is warm and safe.
“I’m still me,” she promises, and can feel Sokka’s obvious relief, the tension he’d been carrying releases, and he tightens his grip. It is comfort she feels, knowing that Sokka holds nothing against her.
Katara finds Zuko in the courtyard, training with his swords. He and Suki prepared dinner, but he’d come out here to train, saying it was because he didn’t have an appetite.
Against the backdrop of the setting Sun, he seems…handsome and regal.
Katara brushes the unbidden thought away with mild regret. Now is not the time for such thoughts.
She calls out and waves to him, and Zuko pauses to look at her.
“Uh, hey.” He sheathes his swords so effectively and silently. “Is there something wrong?”
Katara shakes her head and smiles. The exhaustion has mostly left her, thankfully. “I wanted to tell you this earlier but didn’t get the chance.”
She runs up to Zuko who looks both startled and hesitant as he catches her in his arms. She holds tightly onto Zuko, and his hold is assuring.
Zuko has seen her – what she’s capable of. Everything – and he’s stood back and let her make her choices and stayed by her side through it all.
“I forgive you.” Katara says, truly grateful.
Zuko’s hold tightens, an embrace of quiet relief.