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soopersara · 5 months

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Zutara Week 2023: Day 5

Read it on AO3 | @zutaraweek

At the Western Air Temple, Zuko and Katara can't stop arguing. But at night, to let the others sleep, they go by different rules.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No. You?”

Zuko shakes his head. “Still not used to the snoring. I thought my uncle was bad, but between Sokka and Aang, there’s never a quiet moment after sunset.”

He’s lying. Katara has heard him jerk out of sleep enough times to know that he has nightmares, and she suspects that he’s noticed the same about her. But they’ve come to an understanding by now—they may not be friends, but after dark, they don’t have to be.

They don’t argue. That might wake the others.

They don’t ask too many questions. That might make them argue.

It feels like a delicate balance sometimes, but their nighttime truce hasn’t failed them yet. By now, it’s beginning to feel natural.

“The snoring doesn’t bother me too much. You get used to that pretty quickly when you grow up in a tent.” She peers at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m less used to Toph kicking me in her sleep.”

If he recognizes the lie, he gives no sign of it. Instead, he gestures toward the empty space farther down the terrace. “I made enough tea for two cups if you want some.” He raises his cup enough to give its contents a sniff, and his mouth pulls to the side. “It’s—probably a little better than last time.”

“Did you make two cups deliberately, or did you just forget how much water you needed?”

A shrug. “Possibly both. I think I used too many tea leaves last time, so extra water has to be an improvement. Right?”

She perches an arm’s length away from him, allowing her legs to dangle over the edge. “You taste it first. If it’s better than last time, then I’ll think about having a cup.”

“Fair enough.” He doesn’t immediately taste the tea, opting instead to look out over the moonlit valley while the cup steams gently in his hands. “Did I ever tell you that I’ve been here once before?”

“No. But I guess I’m not really surprised.”

She looks downward too, her eyes tracing over the ribbons of mist forming along the rivers and streams in the jungle below. He’s been traveling more than three times as long as she has. After so much time, it’s no wonder that his path has folded back on itself.

“Is everything the way you remember it?” she asks. So long as she doesn’t look his way, she finds that she doesn’t mind his conversation. He is more soft-spoken, more thoughtful than she usually gives him credit for, and if she doesn’t meet his eyes, the anger that would ordinarily roil inside of her lies dormant.

“Mostly. And not at all.” Zuko pauses for a sip of tea, frowns in thought, then pours a second cup and passes it her way.

Katara shoots him a sideways glance before accepting the cup. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean the temple hasn’t changed very much, but—I don’t know. I guess I look at things differently now.”

Her hands clench, and she drags her eyes down toward the valley again. It’s nighttime. As frustrated and angry as she might be, she can’t argue with him now. Not when it could wake the others.

Still, a sharp tinge of bitterness finds its way into her voice. “Why? Because you’ve just changed so much?”

If her tone bothers him, Zuko doesn’t show it much. Dryly, he says, “I’m taller than I was last time I came here. And I can see out of both eyes since I don’t have half my face wrapped up in bandages.” A pause, and when he resumes, his voice is softer than before. “I am different now. You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to, but I have changed. Maybe not as much as I should, but at least being alone with my thoughts sucks less than it used to.”

“Hmpf.” Rather than responding immediately, she takes a swallow of tea. Though the flavor isn’t spectacular—it never is when Zuko brews it—the tea is at least pleasant enough to drink. Pleasant enough that she can hardly complain about it, even jokingly. She’s had worse in dozens of small village teashops. “I’m still waiting for you to prove that.”

“I know. I’m trying.”

She spares him another sideways glance. The fact that he always manages to sound, to look so earnest unnerves her a little. She doesn’t want to believe him, to trust him, but at the moment, she can’t convince herself that he’s lying. At the very least, he believes what he’s saying.

Maybe that quiet conviction is the problem. Why is it that he can be so certain when she doesn’t know what to believe anymore? It doesn’t seem fair. She’s been on the right side all along. She ought to know who she can trust by now. Zuko shouldn’t have this sort of clarity when he’s only just realized that his nation is in the wrong.

Katara leans back on her hands. She isn’t going to argue with him, but she refuses to give him credit for any clarity either. They have their truce, and if the only way she can maintain it without ceding any ground is to change the subject, that is exactly what she’ll have to do.

“Of all the Air Temples I’ve seen so far, I think I like this one best. The others felt so much—emptier than this one.”

For a few seconds, she can feel Zuko’s gaze on the side of her face, but then he turns forward again. “I get that. The northern and southern temples are so high up that they almost feel untouchable. Like they’re so far away from everything else that no one should be able to reach them.”

“What about the eastern temple? What’s that one like?”

He glances her way again. “You haven’t been there?”

She shakes her head. “The others left me behind in Ba Sing Se when Aang went to visit.”

“Oh.” His voice is almost impossibly soft, and he presses his lips together briefly before clearing his throat. By the weight of the silence, she suspects that he knows exactly when that visit was, exactly what being left behind led her into. “I’ve only been there once myself. It was—more open than the northern or southern temples, I guess. Spread out across a few different mountaintops, and I guess the extra space just made it feel different.”

“Hmm.” She exhales and takes another sip of tea. “I wonder if I’ll ever get the chance to see it.”

“I’m sure you will, someday.”

“What, are you some kind of optimist now?”

He shrugs. “You and the others have always managed to find a way before. I don’t see why this would be any different.”

Katara narrows her eyes. The same ember of frustration that has been sitting in her core flares up again, but this time, she can’t quite manage to contain it. “Oh, so that’s it? You decided to join us because you were tired of being on the losing side?”

“What?” His brows furrow.

“You keep telling us that you’re just here to do the right thing. I don’t think that’s true. If you really wanted to do the right thing, you could have started a long time ago.”

They’ve tread this ground before. She knows what’s coming—he’ll insist, yet again, that he’s trying to be a better person, then she’ll push back, and the cycle will go on. They’ll argue over and over, and it will never end unless he gives up or finds a way to finally change her mind.

The trouble is that even she doesn’t know what that might take.

There is a sort of melancholy that comes over his face, and his shoulders hunch. “I’ve been telling you the truth.”

A bitter laugh claws its way up her throat. “You keep saying that. Do you really think repeating yourself is helping anything?”

The tired defeat in his eyes feels like it should break her resolve, but Zuko just shakes his head and looks out over the valley again. “You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to.”

“You really don’t get it, do you? I do have to believe you. Everyone here is my family, and if you’re going to be around them, I have to trust that you’re not going to hurt them. And—” Despite her best efforts, her voice begins to wobble. “And I can’t trust you.”

“Oh.”

For what feels like a long time, that is all Zuko says. She thinks she sees his hand hover hesitantly toward her shoulder once or twice, but he never quite makes contact. She can’t decide if that’s better or worse. He cares enough to want to comfort her—or enough that he wants to make it look that way—but he’s either too disingenuous or too frightened of her to actually try.

“It was you,” Zuko says at long last, not quite looking her way.

“Excuse me?” She can still feel the heat in her own voice, and she stares daggers at him.

He clears his throat. “The other reason I came here. I mean—I did want to help. I still do. But—” He looks down into his teacup. “I had to leave home. By the end, Father just wanted to see the rest of the world burn, and I was tired of walking on eggshells to keep him from turning me into an example for everyone else.”

That figures, she wants to tell him. He’s the son of the Fire Lord. Sooner or later, life with his own family was bound to become too painful, too dangerous to bear. But the fact that he had no choice but to flee does nothing for his trustworthiness.

Zuko isn’t finished yet. With a sigh, he rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. “It took me a while to realize that I couldn’t run away unless I had somewhere else to go. But as soon as I did, I thought about what you said to me in the catacombs, and—I guess I felt like I’d finally found my place.”

Her temper spikes. Maybe he’s telling the truth, or maybe he’s not, but it doesn’t really matter. True or not, the idea that he’s here because of her just hurts.

She slaps her teacup down and pushes back from the edge of the terrace. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare act like what happened in the catacombs mattered to you.”

Zuko rises just a moment after her. “Katara—”

She starts marching back toward her own room. If she has to stew in there alone for the rest of the night, she will. Anything to stop this conversation.

“Do you remember what you said to me?”

She fixes her eyes straight ahead. Just keep walking. Sooner or later, he has to give up.

“You told me that you thought I’d changed. And I had, a little. But now things just keep changing, and if I can’t stop that, I want to at least have some say in where I’m going.” He pauses, almost like he’s hoping that she’ll turn to face him again. “You thought I could be a better person. I wasn’t back then, and maybe I still haven’t gotten there. But I want to. Whoever you thought I could be back in Ba Sing Se—I’m still trying to figure out how to be that person.”

Katara stops walking, and her hands tighten involuntarily into fists. She wants to believe him. That fact surprises her more than she wants to admit. A person like him, like the better version of him, would make everything better. He could take an immense weight of responsibility off of her shoulders if only his change was real.

Maybe if she could shake free from the mistrust that has gripped her for so long, she would find that it is. That Zuko really is better now.

“Please,” he adds, voice soft. His footsteps come just a little closer, angling to one side where he can make out her face in profile. “I just want to know what I’m still doing wrong. I’ll fix it all if I can, I just need to know where to start.”

She shakes her head. “Nowhere. Don’t you get it? You aren’t doing anything wrong, it’s just—” Her voice wavers, then breaks. “It’s just that I believed you once before. I don’t think I could take it if I messed up and trusted the wrong person again.”

With one last, surprisingly light step, Zuko comes close enough to touch her shoulder, and this time, she feels the soft, warm weight of his hand. “You weren’t the one who messed up in Ba Sing Se.”

Though she is still both furious and hurt, she can’t help but lean into him. “What difference does it make whomessed up? I almost lost one of my closest friends. And I did lose someone else who I wanted to be my friend.”

She can only see him from the corner of her eye, but he appears briefly stunned by her candor. Then, instead of retreating as she expects, he offers her a tentative hug. “I’m not going anywhere this time. Not unless you want me to. If you ever decide to give me another chance, I promise I’ll be right here waiting.”

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