Chapter Text
Remarkably, by the time the next morning rolls around, Zuko’s fever has finally broken. “Hey,” Katara says quietly, smiling softly, when she notices him stirring.
Zuko yawns, sitting up, and mutters, “Hi.”
”Your fever broke sometime last night,” she informs him, “How are you feeling?”
”Less like shit,” he says, with a small smile.
”What an insightful analysis,” Katara says dryly, rolling her eyes.
”Thanks,” he smirks. He seems to be in a relatively good mood and Katara is more than a little afraid that, if he remembers anything that was said yesterday, the good mood will disappear. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He asks, a self-defensive edge to his tone.
”Looking at you like what?” Katara asks, in what she hopes is a breezy manner.
”Like I’m going to break, or- or something,” he says frustratedly, looking increasingly self-conscious. His next words are mumbled, “Did- did I do something wrong?”
Katara sighs, but that only seems to make him fidget nervously. “Do you- I mean, you said a few things yesterday, be-because of your fever,” she explains haltingly.
”Oh,” his eye is wide and anxious, “I’m sorry.”
”You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise,” Katara says firmly. Her voice wavers a little, however, when she continues, “Do you remember anything?”
Zuko’s face scrunches up in a mixture of concentration and confusion. “No... I don’t think I-” he cringes, burying his face in his hands, “Oh, fucking Agni. Please tell me that I didn’t do what I think I did.”
”Uh, that depends on what you think you did,” Katara laughs awkwardly, bending water back and forth between her hands, just for something to do.
”You heard that stupid fucking mantra, didn’t you?” He grits out, still not looking up.
It takes Katara a second to remember, but, when she does, she frowns sadly. “The one about Azula?” She deliberately keeps her voice soft, even though she would like nothing more than to proclaim her wish to throttle Azula with her bare hands.
Zuko nods into his hands, “Yeah. I’m- I’m sorry you had to hear that. It probably sounded really childish and stupid.”
“No, it didn’t,” Katara interjects swiftly, “I think I get it. She sounds really hard and scary to live with. If that made you feel safer, than it’s not childish or stupid at all.”
Zuko raises his head to look at her incredulously. He seems to struggle within himself for a moment before he seems to accept her answer. “Okay,” he sighs, “Okay,” he says for a second time, sounding much more confident.
Katara hesitates for a long moment, before taking the plunge and asking, “You said- you said something about your dad wanting to kill you. Was that real? I mean, was that something that actually happened?”
”Which time?” Zuko asks bitterly, looking away. The moment Katara had thought that she couldn’t feel any sadder for Zuko, he goes and says something like that? After a moment’s pause, he elaborates, “I think the time I was thinking of, was- was when I was ten.”
”My cousin, Uncle’s son, had just died and my father told his father, Fire Lord Azulon, to revoke Uncle Iroh’s birthright. Grandfather told him to kill me for daring to disrespect Iroh like that. Something about, ‘knowing the pain of losing a first born’, I think,” he tells the story in a deliberately detached voice, as if he were relating a tale that had happened to someone else.
”Your-your father couldn’t have possibly actually planned on killing you... right?” Katara questions, almost desperately, her voice wavering.
Zuko gives her a sad look, “When I confronted him on the day of the eclipse, he told me that he was happy to comply. It was my mother who saved my life. I still don’t know what she did exactly, but, the next morning, Azulon was dead and Ursa, my mother, was gone.”
”Is she-” Katara starts hesitantly.
”I don’t know. Maybe,” he shrugs half-heartedly, “All I know is that, when she disappeared, I lost my only support in the world.”
“I understand that,” Katara says gently, putting a hand on his arm.
All of a sudden, something appears to register and Zuko’s face drains of color immediately. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters quietly, “I think I just remembered something else. Did I- did I compare you to my mom?”
”Uh, yeah, kinda,”Katara shrugs.
Zuko pulls away from her sharply, the anxiety returning to his eyes. “I’m so, so sorry,” he stammers, bowing from where he sits, “That was probably really, really weird and awkward and I- I apologize for-”
“Zuko,” Katara cuts him off, feeling slightly guilty, when he flinches, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You were sick and scared and it was actually kind of sweet,” she admits, with a small smile.
He raises his head warily and Katara wonders briefly how she had ever missed how scared he is all the time. “I’m not mad, Zuko,” she promises.
”You’re not?” His voice is painfully small and unsure, even as he sits back up and looks directly at her.
”Nope,” she smiles a little. He looks immensely relieved and Katara blurts out, “Can I hug you?”
Zuko flushes, nodding shyly. She wraps her arms around him gently, though he still tenses automatically. After a moment, where he simply sits, he brings his own arms up to return the hug and allows himself to sink into the gentle embrace. “Thank you, Katara,” he murmurs.
”I’ll always help people who need me,” she says firmly, “especially friends.”
”Are we- are we friends?” Zuko asks, pulling back to look at her.
”Of course we are,” Katara assures, taking his hand and squeezing.
Zuko’s smile is shy and hesitant, but it lights up his whole face and, when Katara pulls him in for another hug, he doesn’t hesitate to return it at all.