#I was too little zutara never occurred to me until way later in life when I discovered fandom

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Getting closer to Avatar The Last Airbender live action, it’s a good time to say we are kataang shippers on this blog. Block me unfollow me zutara heathens.

[soopersara]

Why and when did you start shipping Zutara?

You want the long version or the short version? Just kidding! There really isn’t a short version. My history with ATLA in general is kind of a mess. 

I saw my first episode of ATLA around the time it was airing - I think it was in 2008 or so when Book 3 was almost done. Anyway, I was babysitting some of my younger cousins, my aunt told me that the boys were allowed to watch a couple of episodes of the show they’d been recording on the DVR. Cool. I’d never heard of it before, but if middle-school me didn’t have to come up with a ton of activities to occupy three little boys until their bedtime, I wasn’t gonna argue about it. 

So I got the boys settled in on the couch, hit play, and I watched my first ever episode of ATLA. The Western Air Temple. And HOLY BUCKETS, dude, I was hooked. Honestly, in a way, I started shipping Zutara right then and there. There was just so much emotion and tension between the two of them. And sure, it was clearly not a romance yet, but the whole point of the episode was Zuko trying to join the Gaang, and for me (then and now), Katara felt like the emotional center of the Gaang. She was the one who seemed to have the most personal history with Zuko, she was the one who was most opposed to him joining, and she was the person whose approval Zuko seemed to want the most. And... damn. I wanted to see that conflict play out and resolve SO BADLY. I wasn’t consciously aware of this at the time, but there’s an old saying that love and hate aren’t opposites, love and apathy are. And that was the first time I ever felt the truth of that statement and wanted to watch the enemies to friends to lovers dynamic play out.

But then my babysitting night ended, and my parents drove me home, and I spent the rest of my middle school and high school years back in my normal life in a house with one TV, no cable, and no internet. I couldn’t have watched the rest of ATLA if I wanted to, and I was unaware of... the majority of what was on the internet in general at that point, so I didn’t know that fandom was a thing. Also, my family has... poor taste in entertainment. They don’t like ANY fantasy/sci-fi, not because they had problems with the plots, tropes, or themes associated with the genres, but because they think that people who enjoy those genres are “weird” and because of that, they’ve never bothered to consume any stories in those genres. Which meant that they teased me for my tastes in stories. A lot. All the time. I wouldn’t have had the guts to watch ATLA in my house even if I had access to it. So I just let my brain run wild extrapolating story ideas from the tiny snippets of ATLA that I had seen and started never finished a few original stories with nuggets of inspiration drawn from the Zutara dynamic.

Then I went off to college a few years later and it occurred to me a couple of times that I could probably find ATLA and watch it online, but I never actually looked for it until a few of my friends in the dorms mentioned that they loved this old kids’ show called Avatar the Last Airbender. I waited until I finally had free time (the few days when I was stuck on campus after finishing finals), and finally got around to watching it. 

And watching ATLA was... not what I expected. Based on what I’d seen of the show several years earlier, I knew that Zuko started off on the wrong side of the war, but I wasn’t prepared to see him be such a raging jerk for so much of the show. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him the whole time but it was a I want to shake you and and tell you to pull your head out of your ass because I know how much better you will be later and I want that NOW kind of love. I knew based on the episode intro I’d seen in middle school that Aang was the protagonist, but I wasn’t prepared to see him drive so much of the show, since he was just... not the central character in the first episode I saw. And on some level, I knew that there had to be a lot of history as enemies between Zuko and the Gaang to cause the amount of animosity I saw, but I didn’t expect his joining the Gaang to come so close to the end. I thought there would be at LEAST a solid season with him as a Gaang member, not... half a season. 

So... I liked ATLA. It was good. The finale was a huge, beautiful spectacle that worked so well on an emotional level, but... there were enough things that niggled at me that I didn’t see it becoming a major interest of mine. At the time, I really only had media/stories that I revisited over and over and over because I loved them unconditionally and media/stories that was... too flawed or not compelling enough for me to revisit.

But ATLA was different. I thought it was going to end up in my list of “meh” stories that I liked but bugged me enough that I’d never go back to it. But I just. Kept. Thinking. About. It. And after a while, I started watching the show over. And over. And over. But those problems still niggled at me, and I didn’t really know how to articulate what my problems with the show were. 

So then I finished college and moved in with a friend. And after she introduced me to a few shows I’d never seen before, I decided to return the favor and introduce her to ATLA. And after that rewatch, I finally started picking out and trying to articulate some of my problems with the show. Two of the first things I realized were that I HATED Maiko as presented in canon (it reminded me too much of my high school classmates whose romantic relationships alway boiled down to “I hate spending time with him/her, but I’m horny.” UGH. I don’t know how many times I had to restrain myself from yelling, “JUST BREAK THE F*CK UP, YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY TWO HORNY TEENAGERS ON THE PLANET.”), and Kataang was... meh. I didn’t hate the idea of them being together eventually, but the development felt half-assed and the kiss in the finale was WAY too sudden for me. I finally remembered that I liked the idea of Zuko and Katara together way back when I first saw The Western Air Temple, and because the internet has a creepy way of reading my thoughts, Pinterest started feeding me Zutara fanart. I. Loved. It. Knowing that I wasn’t the only one who wanted them together was AMAZING (keep in mind, this was like... 2016. I came SO late it’s unreal).

I decided that I wanted to write a Zutara fanfic at some point, then got the idea for an Avatar Katara AU now my mega-slow updating WIP, A Tale of Ice and Smoke. And I started writing it. And posting on FFN. Then some of my scrolling through Zutara content on Pinterest led me to Zutara metas (which reinforced a lot of the conclusions I’d reached about my own issues with the story and helped me identify a few others that I’d noticed but hadn’t been able to express) and other people’s fics, and I started reading those while posting the first few chapters of Ice and Smoke. Then I finally created my own Tumblr and started getting more and more involved in the fandom. When I say that I fell ass-backward into this fandom, I mean it.

So. TLDR: I started either started shipping Zutara in 2008 when I saw one episode (to this day The Western Air Temple is still one of my favorites), or I started shipping it in 2016 after thinking about the show way too much, and deciding that fixing a lot of my problems with the series would most likely lead to Zuko and Katara being together. 

[bulletproofteacup]

Trust and Caution

[Summary]: Katara and Zuko struggle to survive, thrive, and find each other after the world as they know it has ended. Zombie!Au, steambabies, and of course, Zutara. 

[a/n]: Of course, the wonderful @somuttersthesea beta’d and gave great feedback and support. Thanks!

[rating]: M for violence later on. Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve turned into a snowflake and I don’t really do much angst anymore. But I’ll probably kill someone off....

[A/n]: Using the prompts from Zutara Smut Week 17, I decided write a fic without any of that. I’m just trying to get back into the swing of writing. If you like this, please like, comment, or reblog. Constructive Criticism is also welcome; it helps me become a better writer :)

The silence is eerie, but she’s used to it now. 

It used to scare her, the way a bustling, teeming city went as silent as death. At night, the wind whistling through empty streets used to keep her tossing and turning; she had to teach herself not to look out the windows after dark (the shuffling dead, wandering after dark could banish any desire to ever sleep).

But she’s used to it now. 

These days, Katara walks quickly, purposefully, and carefully. The streets are empty for now, but that doesn’t mean they will remain so. Hours of careful watching has taught her to be wary of empty streets and the illusion of safety. She’s watched empty streets fill with lumbering bodies in minutes, watched careless survivors die because they weren’t careful enough. 

Katara was careful. Her eyes swept the street, searching for any sign of the impending horde. Her apartment was just around the corner, but even safety within her grasp couldn’t make her careless. 

She drums her fingers nervously on one leg, clutching the spout of her water flask.There is a metal bat strapped to her back for emergency, one she hopes never to use. The baby wiggles a little and she pauses for a  moment to catch her breath and rub her belly.  “We’re going to be just fine.” she whispers, more for herself than her baby.

In a way, she’s almost grateful to be pregnant. Being alone in this city of death would be enough to drive anyone crazy; having someone to protect has kept her going long after everything else has been halted by death. But the unfortunate reality is that her baby is weeks away, perhaps days (definitely days, judging by the pain shooting up her spine on a regular basis now), and it’s taken a toll on her. Katara can barely waddle away from the undead and she hasn’t been able to rely on her father since--

She swallows. She can’t even think of the d-word yet. 

Four weeks ago, her father had left on a quick afternoon supply run and never returned. Katara had waited faithfully, but she wasn’t sure how long she could keep on waiting for the men in her life to reappear. Her father wasn’t the first man who hadn’t made it back to her. Three months ago, almost four now she thinks as the baby jabs her ribs, Zuko had promised over the phone that he would find her. She promised to wait for him. Since then, the phones had gone down, the internet had dried up, and the people who had evacuated had returned as the undead. For almost four months, she endured fear and terror and death, but had remained faithful to her promise and to her husband. 

But Zuko had not come for her and now she was beginning to fear that he would never would. Like her father. 

 Katara stopped at the corner and peaked around it. Nothing in sight. It was a straight shot to her building. She made a run for it (really, she made a waddle for it). 

Since the outbreak, Katara had been lucky. Her apartment building had mostly been filled with young couples and single workaholics. Anybody who hadn’t already been on vacation or simply disappeared had evacuated at the first opportunity. Except Katara. She had waited. Her father had arrived after a few weeks and they’d waited together. 

Now, she was alone again. 

Zuko would never come. Her father would never come back. If she waited her too long, she’d end up like them--dead and devoured or dead and shambling. 

Katara slips into her building, avoiding the lobby and going straight for the fire escape ladder she’d left down. She climbed carefully, mostly because there was a baby in the way and her balance just wasn’t what it used to be. A silly macabre thought occurred to her. Even the neighbors who had evacuated had returned before her husband had. They’d come back as the undead, but that was besides the point. At this point, gallows humor was the only humor left. The entire world was dying, dead, or undead. Sometimes, Katara felt like there was already a noose around her neck; the only thing left to do was fall. If she didn’t laugh about it, then she’d cry. 

She climbed each level until she reached the third floor, fighting vertigo and nausea. She slipped into the apartment that had belonged to her next door neighbors. Ty Lee and Mai had been in Tokyo with Azula when everything fell apart; it was hard to look at familiar surroundings and wonder if, even now, her friends were mindless zombies. But it was even harder to walk into her own apartment and see Zuko’s things still hanging in the closet, his pictures still hanging on the walls. It was painful to walk past the nursery, still half decorated and waiting for her husband’s strong, callused hands to finish hanging shelves, finish painting, finish creating what should have been the first home for their child. 

She knows that their baby will never sleep in that nursery. As soon as that baby comes screaming into the world, Katara is going to leave this city of the dead. Out there somewhere, she’s going to find a place where Zuko’s daughter can be raised in safety. 

~***~

Trust is a complicated concept for Zuko. 

He can trust the shamblers to always go for the throat, he can trust his fellow survivors to save themselves first, he can trust Sokka to always have his back, but trusting himself is hard. 

Trusting himself means that he needs to believe that he can make it through each day. Trust means that he needs to believe he will find Katara alive and well, waiting with a daughter in her arms. Trust means he needs to believe that everything is going to turn out for the best. 

Otherwise, he’s going to end up like the poor idiot who blew his brains out this morning. 

His name was Teo and after watching his father die, he’d given up completely. 

Sometimes, it takes everything in Zuko not to do the same. 

The entire world has turned upside-down overnight and he just wants an escape from this nightmare. He inhales deeply, which is a mistake; the room smells like copper-iron blood and shit. He gags and makes the second mistake of meeting Teo’s glassy eyes. Zuko turns to flee, passing Sokka on his way out of of the little cabin where Teo ended his life. He leans over the porch railing and empties his stomach into the bushes. 

When he’s done, his brother-in-law is leaning against the wall. His face is dark and haggard, but he’s not surprised. Neither of them are. 

“We need to keep on moving,” Sokka says eventually, “Day light is burning.”

Zuko wipes his mouth on his sleeve. The smell is still stuck in mouth. Somehow it’s worse than the smell of the shamblers. The stench of death is nasty to begin with, but at least the zombie smell isn’t fresh. Usually. He shudders and thinks about the little girl he’d killed last night; the evening before she’d given him one of her last cookies and he’d helped her mother gather enough firewood to get them through the night. Her blood was still warm when it gushed out of her body and onto his hands. 

“Zuko,” Sokka says sternly, “Stay with me.”

He shakes the memory away, turns to face his brother-in-law. “We should bury him.” he says. 

Sokka’s lip curls and snarls, “I’m not wasting my time to bury somebody who offed himself.”

It’s not Teo that Sokka is angry with. He’s remembering Yue, who chose to end her life instead of fighting to survive. He’s remembering the way they found her, dressed in her pajamas, candles burning in the corners of her room, her hair soft and gleaming in the dying sunlight, an empty pill bottle sitting on her nightstand. Yue may have died peacefully, but it was Sokka who found her choking on her own vomit. It was Sokka who held her after the life had left her body, sobbing into her hair. But it was Zuko who made sure she wouldn’t come back again. 

Sokka hasn’t been himself for a long time; these last few months have felt like years, but even that won’t be long enough for him to truly accept Yue’s decision and absence. 

He searches for the right words to say. “His father would have wanted that.”

Sokka scowls. They stand in silence for a long time. This bothers Zuko; he’s used to the sounds that two dozen survivors make as they weather each day and difficulty. After the chaos of last night, most of their group is either dead or separated. And now, with Teo dead and cabin walls splattered with his blood and brains, it’s just the two of them. 

Finally, Zuko speaks, “I’ll burn the cabin.”

Sokka shrugs, “It will attract shamblers.”

Zuko nods and replies that they’ll be long gone by the time the fire really gets going. His brother-in-law nods. “Good,” Sokka says, “We’re too close to stop now.”

In unison, they turn their heads toward the skyscrapers looming in the distance. Katara promised she would wait. Zuko swallows and prays that he will find her alive. The odds of a heavily pregnant woman surviving are slim, but his wife is a fighter and he trusts her more than anything. He won’t find her laying a pool of her own vomit; his wife is the kind to go down swinging. 

Zuko digs his wallet out of his pocket. He’s been recording the days and this is how he knows Katara’s due date was last week. If she’s alive, there’s a good chance she’s already given birth. Even more reason for her to be alive, even more reason for him to trust that she has made it this far. 

Zuko just has to keep fighting to stay alive; everything will be okay when he finds his wife. 

He takes a deep breath, pats Sokka’s shoulder, and then returns to the body of his friend. 

[kdinthecity]

Unexpected

OK, I did not expect this one to come out so angsty! This is for Day 7: Unexpected Visits, and it’s super sad! I’m just warning you. I promise I will follow with Day 8: Spice where Katara visits a sex shop... ooh fun!

I’m actually writing this one in another author’s universe. So, if you don’t like mine, go read hers because it’s way better. So @until-my-last, I hope this is worthy of your awesome Zutara fic, Time Heals Wounds.

Did I warn you that it’s sad? Also, it’s Kataang. I know! So sad! And no cheating, only bonding between Katara and Zuko. Like serious bonding. Oh, and Ume is Zuko’s wife, an OC from Time Heals Wounds.

There were lots of things about turning thirty-five that Katara hadn’t expected.

 First, the recovery after her last pregnancy. It had been hard. Harder than she expected. Harder than the other two. It took much longer for her to feel normal again. And she was unexpectedly relieved when Tenzin weaned. Like this whole baby thing was just so taxing on her—physically and emotionally—and she would be juuuuuuust fine to be done with it.

 But she knew Aang would want more.

 She didn’t expect to get pregnant again so soon, though.

 Her hormones were such a mess, but she really did want to hit him when he said, “That’s great news, Katara! Another chance for an airbender!” It didn’t help that he said it in front of Bumi. Who by now had passed the age where bending ability was typically revealed—or not.

 Tenzin had been such a fitful baby that she was almost certain he’d turn out to be an airbender. The same week she found out she was pregnant, he learned to walk—no, wander. Her little nomad child, she’d come to think of him. Except that she was so very tired in these early stages of pregnancy that she didn’t want to chase a toddler. Surely this had been easier with Bumi and Kya, hadn’t it?

 It was also the same week that Aang was called away to weeklong peace proceedings in Ba Sing Se. The Earth Kingdom was worse than the Fire Nation at maintaining the peace, she decided. They always needed Aang’s help. Then again, King Kuei was no Fire Lord Zuko. And Zuko would probably not ask for help even if he needed it.

 But then her dear friend did ask for help—when she least expected it. And he was there to offer help—when she unexpectedly needed it.

Aang’s one-week trip turned into three weeks which wasn’t altogether unexpected. She would’ve graciously accepted this as typical Avatar duty, if only she hadn’t been so tired—and hot. Did she have these hot flashes last time? It wasn’t even summer, yet. At some point, bending away her own sweat wasn’t worth the energy or the effort.

 Thankfully an air acolyte took a break from her ceaseless praying to lend a hand with the kids. Katara knew she would never have that kind of devotion. Aang probably deserved someone who did. And someone who didn’t resent the idea of having another baby.

 Surely these thoughts were just the hormones talking. She loved her children. And she loved this new life inside her just the same. Didn’t she?

 “Uncle used to say that if you frown too much, your face will stick that way.”

 Katara nearly fainted. But not from hormones. From the sound of his voice.

 “Zuko! What are you doing here?”

 “Well, I realized that I’ve never met Tenzin. So it’s been over a year. And Izumi wanted to see Bumi and Kya. It’s dreadfully boring at the palace.” His tone was uncharacteristically upbeat. The crease in his brow gave him away.

 “No siblings, yet?” It was a personal question that she disliked when people asked her. Especially since she heard no airbenders, yet, instead. But this was Zuko, her best friend. Surely he wouldn’t take it personally.

 Except that unexpectedly, he did, thus confirming her suspicions. “Ahhh, no—um…”

 “Zuko, what is it? Is Ume OK?”

 “She’s uhh—well, we’ve tried, of course. But I think something’s wrong. Not with that. I don’t care about that. She’s just tired all the time. And short of breath. Do you think you could…?”

 “Of course, Zuko. I’d be glad to take a look. Is she here?”

 “No. She didn’t feel up to the journey. I—of course, we have plenty of room for your family at the palace. Come whenever is convenient. Stay as long as you like.”

 “Aang is in Ba Sing Se right now, but when he gets back…”

 A flurry of activity interrupted their conversation. Bumi practically tackled Zuko with a laughing Kya trailing him. Ten-year-old Izumi then appeared with a drooly Tenzin perched on her hip. Katara marveled at how much the young firebender had grown, her childlike features fading into a womanly beauty. There were definite traces of Zuko in her appearance, but glimpses of Ume, too.

 “I heard you’ve been training with the sword, Master Bumi.” Zuko ruffled the seven-year-old’s crazy crop of hair.

 “Yes sir, but I’m hardly a master. I sometimes train with Uncle Sokka… when he’s not busy.”

 “Hmm, you need a master, don’t you?” Zuko’s eyes flickered to Katara, but she didn’t have a good answer to his unspoken question. She taught Kya waterbending, but it was true that Bumi’s own training had been neglected.

 “Yes sir.” The disappointment in the child’s voice was answer enough, though.

 “Tell me, Bumi, have you ever fought with two swords?” Zuko redirected.

 The boy’s chin lifted, and his eyes sparkled. “Like at the same time? That’s impossible!”

 “Well, you have two hands, don’t you?”

 Katara fought the urge to say that her son might not have two hands after swordfighting lessons with Zuko. She could tell, though, by the way his eyes lit up and how Izumi rolled hers that he didn’t get to do this often, if ever.

 So Zuko went off with Bumi, Izumi and Kya practiced their bending moves together, and Katara put Tenzin down for a nap. Suddenly it was very quiet, and she had time for herself. It was most unexpected, and she honestly didn’t know what to do with herself. She decided to prepare the guest room for their unexpected visitors in hopes that they would stay awhile.

 Later that evening, a giddy, sweaty Zuko shooed her out of the kitchen and offered to make dinner. It was such an unusual gesture. Aang never made dinner. She didn’t even expect Zuko to know how to cook. He was royalty, after all. The bigger surprise, though, was that he cooked them meat. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed it—how much it reminded her of home. She didn’t dare ask where it came from, although Bumi answered soon enough.

 “Mom, Fire Lord Zuko took me hunting!”

 “Oh, he did, did he?” She shot her friend a look of warning. It was one thing to teach Bumi the swords, but hunting encroached on their family values.

 Zuko just shrugged. “It wasn’t really hunting. The animal was already hurt, so we kinda… put it out of its misery? I’m a terrible hunter anyway. I couldn’t hit a moving target if I tried.”

 Somehow Katara doubted that. She was about to expound on her reprimand, but Izumi spoke first.

 “Ew, Dad. Can we not talk about our food like that?” She made a fake choking sound. “I think I’m going to become a vegetarian.”

 “Cool. Can we trade families then? Because I want to eat meat everyday!” Bumi popped another bite into his mouth, beaming proudly as he did.

 It was a most unfortunate time for “morning” sickness to hit. Katara quickly excused herself from the table. She didn’t expect Zuko to follow her.

 “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“ He held back her hair. He actually held back her hair. She held back her tears.

 After she had recovered, both from the retching and repressing, he continued in a calm and soothing voice, “I didn’t mean to make you sick. I didn’t think… of course, if you never eat meat—“

 “No, Zuko, it’s not your fault. I-I’m pregnant.”

 “Oh.”

 She couldn’t read his expression much like she could read her own emotions in that moment, either. She wondered why he had to be so nice, so helpful, so… perfect. Scarred, yet flawless.

 That was ridiculous, though. Nobody was perfect. The only reason people would overlook each other’s imperfections was if love had made them blind.

 Suddenly, Katara saw the situation all too clearly.

 “I’m tired. I’m going to bed. You and Izumi are welcome to stay, of course. Just make yourself at home.”

 “I’d prefer not to travel at night if that’s alright. We’ll head back first thing in the morning. I appreciate your hospitality.”

 His tone was so formal and his expression so stiff, it was like she was talking to the Fire Lord and not a dear friend. Had he also noticed the shift that had occurred between them, albeit subtle? She couldn’t very well sort through these muddled thoughts and emotions, not in her current state. Perhaps it would be best if she slept through his departure the next day.

 Little did she know what darkness lie ahead in the night and what new light would be cast on their relationship by morning.

 She expected to drift right to sleep, but a slight cramping sensation kept her awake. She blamed it on the meat… at first. Then the pain intensified. Then there was blood. Then water—her hands coated in it, glowing, healing. Then stillness. Then screaming.

 She almost felt like she was outside of herself watching the scene unfold. This couldn’t be happening. No. This wasn’t happening.

 She must have fallen asleep at some point because she woke up the next morning in his arms. She remembered what had happened, but she didn’t remember him.

 “Zuko, wha—“

 “Shhhhhh. It’s OK.”

 Her throat felt raw, so she knew she had been crying—a lot. Still, she managed, “I k-k-killed my baby.”

 Zuko tightened his grip on her shoulders. “What!? Of course you didn’t! These things… just happen. It’s nobody’s fault. You even tried to save your baby. I saw your healing water.”

 She sighed deeply and buried her face in his chest. “But I d-d-didn’t want to be pregnant again. Not so soon. Not when Aang—“ She couldn’t finish. It sounded too selfish to say out loud. But the pressure had become so overwhelming. She couldn’t promise airbending heirs to her Avatar husband no matter how much she wanted to—no matter how hard she tried. She felt like a failure of a wife—and a mother.

 She saw Zuko’s jaw clinch, and she knew what he must be thinking. She didn’t want to portray Aang in a bad light. It certainly wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t even here.

 That’s right. He wasn’t here.

 But Zuko was.

 She nestled deeper into his warmth, his comfort. It was what she needed, and she admitted to herself that she needed it from him. Somehow she knew that Aang would grieve the loss of their child, the chance at another airbender. He would grieve for her. But Zuko—he would grieve with her.

 I’m sorry. That’s something we have in common. It seemed like only yesterday that he’d spoken those words in a cave full of glowing green crystals.

 “It gets easier,” Zuko said suddenly.

 “What?” His words shook her from her reverie.

 “S-s-sorry. That’s not very comforting, I know. I shouldn’t have—“

 “Ume,” she whispered before she realized the name had escaped her lips. The same thing must’ve happened to her—to them. Guilt overtook her. She shouldn’t be here clinging to Zuko when he had a sick wife back at home. She quickly released him and moved away from the bed.

 “Katara, I’m sorry if I did something wrong, I—“ There was pain in his voice and sadness in his eyes, like he was still very much the boy in the cave. But he wasn’t, and they had come so far since then. They were closer than she’d ever expected to become with someone from the Fire Nation, a former enemy, the Fire Lord, even.

 “No, Zuko, it’s fine. You’re… I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve been… perfect.”

 She reached out to take his hand and gave it a small squeeze. Her gaze then drifted to the stained bedsheets, and her vision blurred with tears. A warm hand cupped her face, and a calloused thumb swiped across her wet cheek. His touch felt nice, but as she leaned into it, confusion and clarity struck her once again.

 “Zuko, why are you here?”

 “Because I heard you screaming in the night.”

 “No, I mean, why are you here?”

 “Oh. I came to ask you for help.”

 Yes, of course. She sighed and pulled away.

 “And because I wanted to see you.”

 His statement and his smile were so genuine that her tears flowed freely now. There was something so painfully beautiful about this moment they shared together. She would never want to relive it, but she would cherish it all the same. She shuddered at the calm comfort of his next words.

 “Hey. You go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll take care of cleaning up in here. OK? Then, you get some rest, and I’ll get some breakfast ready for when the kids wake up.”

 Yet again, unexpectedly perfect. Or perhaps perfectly unexpected?

 With Zuko, it was always a little unclear.