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"Don't make me kill you," Katara warned as he kept coming nearer. "I mean it, Zuko. I'll do it." She didn't know exactly how she'd do it, but she'd figure something out. If she had to. If he kept trying to follow her back to the others.
He didn't seem to hear her. Or to notice that she'd stopped, for that matter. He kept walking, his face fixed in a menacing glare as he bore down on her. "The Avatar? Where is the Ava—" He stepped on an uneven patch of ground, grimaced and clutched his side, and then slowly, almost gracefully, pitched forward. He made no effort to catch himself, and smacked face-first into the dirt, then lay still.
That was anticlimactic. Honestly, Katara was a little disappointed. She wanted to hit something, and Zuko's annoying, ponytailed head seemed like the perfect candidate.
But he didn't move. Didn't react. She wasn't even convinced that he was breathing.
It had to be a trick. He had to be faking it. Why else would he tip over right in front of her?
"Give it up, Zuko. You're not fooling anyone."
No response. And still no movement, though after staring a while, she could see the slight expansion and contraction of his back. He was breathing.
Katara edged closer. "Zuko? Stop faking, I know you just want to trick me so you can get to Aang."
A slight breeze passed, and his stupid, fluffy ponytail fluttered, but he remained both still and silent.
"Zuko?" She nudged him with her toe, and when that still earned no reaction, she pushed him over onto his side.
He was limp and stayed that way as she pushed him farther with her toe. Then she saw a patch of red in the dirt beneath him, almost the same color as his uniform.
Maybe he wasn't faking it after all.
"Ow."
Katara whirled toward him, pointing a stick at his chest to keep him from moving any farther. She probably should have sharpened it, she realized. Or found a stick that was heavy enough to use as a club. But she hadn't, and it was a bit too late for that now that he was awake. A regular, half-rotten stick aimed at his wound would have to do.
"Don't move any farther," she warned him. "Try anything funny and I'll end you."
Zuko blinked a few times. "That would suck," he rasped. But if he'd heard her warning, he couldn't seem to understand or remember it. After a second, he started to sit up. Then reality struck, and he clutched an arm around his middle and fell back to the ground with a groan.
Katara wanted to be cross with him. If he'd just listened, this wouldn't have happened. And if he was going to ignore all her warnings, she would be fully justified in carrying out her threat.
But he just kept groaning, and his face was almost ashen. If nothing else, it was reassuring to know that he couldn't move far. He couldn't attack her in this state. Or follow her if she decided to walk away and leave him lying here, one wrist tied to a log. Probably couldn't follow her, at least. He couldn't sit up right now, but he'd apparently come quite a long way before he finally collapsed.
"What happened to you?" she asked when he finally stopped groaning.
Not opening his eyes, Zuko frowned in thought. "Somebody rammed me in the stomach with something sharp."
"Like a knife?"
"Yeah, probably." He blinked a few more times before his eyes focused on her. Recognition flashed across his face, and he tried, a bit more successfully, to prop himself up on an elbow. He looked down at his wound and his brow furrowed. "Why are there bandages?"
Because after she'd moved him, even just turning him onto his back, the blood had started coming faster. Because he was probably going to bleed out otherwise, and it went against all of Katara's instincts to leave him to die like that. And maybe just a little bit because it was incredibly satisfying to cut up parts of his uniform for bandages.
Of course, she wasn't going to tell him that. She'd never say that he looked small and vulnerable and young when he was lying there, unconscious and bleeding to death. She crossed her arms, her stick dangling in one hand. "Because you passed out and I wasn't done yelling at you yet."
Zuko frowned for a second, then nodded. "That makes sense." He noticed the ropes wrapped around his wrist. "And the ropes?"
"Those are payback for tying me up a few days ago."
"Oh." He slumped back to the ground.
She was beginning to wonder if he'd hit his head at some point too. He was strangely calm about all of this.
"Where are all your firebender friends?"
"Don't have friends," he answered a little absently. "My uncle and crew are on the ship. I don't think they noticed when I snuck out of my cabin. They left without me."
Katara almost wanted to laugh at that. Served him right. If he was going to sneak around, it was only fitting that he be left behind because of it.
"Where are your friends?" he asked.
She felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. She wasn't used to being apart from them, but she'd almost managed to forget the loneliness. "We got separated," she answered shortly.
Zuko didn't need to know that they'd been separated because an angry platypus bear wandered into their camp, and all three of them had run off screaming in opposite directions to get away. She certainly wasn't going to admit that when the sun finally rose, she was so far away and had made so many twists and turns that she couldn't remember the way back to camp.
And even if she did remember the right way to go, she wasn't going to tell him.
"Hmm." Zuko's eyes closed for a few seconds, and he lapsed into silence. For a while, she almost thought that he'd fallen asleep. Then, "I have a thing."
Katara's eyebrows crept closer together. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what he was talking about. She leaned back against the log she'd tied him to. "I'm sure you do."
"A thing for you," he elaborated, struggling against his ropes a bit, grimacing when he twisted at the middle. But somehow, he managed to reach across and roll up his right sleeve. "This thing."
She looked down, and saw her mother's necklace wrapped around his wrist, just like it had been when he tied her to that tree a few days ago. What an absolute jerk, keeping her necklace from her.
But then, rather than saying anything more, Zuko went suddenly and profoundly pale, his head falling back to the ground. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his eyes rolled back.
Katara shouldn't care. She knew that. She should be content to let him go. If he was dying, then there would be one less enemy in the world.
She didn't listen to herself. Kneeling at his side, she pulled back the edge of the bandages as he slipped out of consciousness. He was bleeding again. Apparently all the wiggling to show her the necklace had been too much and his wound had torn itself back open.
Frowning, she pressed her hands over the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.
There was more information to get out of him, she told herself. She had to at least find out how he'd gotten his hands on the necklace. And she couldn't do that if he bled to death.
"Welcome back," she said flatly when he woke the second time. She wasn't going to say anything more than that. He didn't need to know that she'd been sitting by his side for hours, doing her best to clean his wound without making it bleed again. He'd lost too much blood already.
And she certainly wasn't going to tell him that she'd actually been a little afraid. She didn't care, exactly. She didn't think that she did. But she didn't exactly want to watch him die. He didn't have to know any of that. He didn't have to know that she was just a tiny bit relieved to see him awake again.
Zuko blinked, then squinted up at her. His eyes seemed just a bit more focused than before, and he sighed. "So I wasn't dreaming."
"Dreaming about what?"
"Finding you." He lifted his head just a bit, just enough to peer down at the bandages around his middle and his hands resting on his chest. He frowned. "You didn't take the necklace back."
Katara's jaw tightened. She wasn't going to tell him that it was a test to see whether he'd give the necklace back without having to ask. That she was curious if a firebender could do something kind if it came with no personal gain. It was probably a stupid thing to test anyway. She probably should have taken the necklace back the moment his eyes closed and run far, far away from here.
"I was busy making sure you didn't bleed to death," she answered loftily.
"Here." He struggled a little bit, fumbling with the clasp, and when he couldn't seem to loosen it, he flopped his arm in her direction. "I don't want it. Didn't know it was your mother's when I found it."
Katara stared at him mistrustfully for a long moment before she took his hand and unwrapped the necklace from his wrist.
"I don't have anything from my mother," he said in a half-voice while her hand still lingered on his wrist. "You're lucky. Hold onto that."
Katara studied him, her hand still resting on his while the necklace dangled from her other hand. "What do you mean?"
"My mother is gone." He turned his face away, putting his scar in full view. "You're lucky to have yours."
She shook her head slowly as she put the necklace back on, the pendant finding its place at the hollow of her throat. "My mother died when I was eight."
Zuko looked at her again, and there was sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I thought—your village was all women. I thought one of them had to be—"
She settled back beside him, resting her back against the log. "And I thought the Fire Lord's wife had to be alive." She stared off into the woods, now beginning to grow dark. "I guess we were both wrong." Her hand rose to her throat and settled on the pendant. Just for a moment, she felt grounded again, like she wasn't lost somewhere in the Earth Kingdom with the Fire Nation prince lying wounded beside her.
With a groan of effort, Zuko pulled himself up until he was reclined against the log too, his hand pressed to his wound, and his face pale. "Why are you here?" he asked, voice barely over a whisper. "You could be looking for your friends."
That, at least, was a question she could answer honestly. "I don't know where to look," she admitted. "It's a lot harder to find my way in a forest than it was back home."
"Do you know which way you went after you got separated?"
Katara shook her head. "It was dark. All I know for sure is that I ran a long way."
Zuko nodded. "They'll come looking." He managed to pull his hand away from his wound and let out a sigh.
"What about your uncle?" she asked. She shouldn't care. She shouldn't be asking him anything, she shouldn't be speaking to him at all, but he couldn't hurt her right now, and talking to anyone, even him, seemed like a better option than silence. "Will he be looking for you?"
"Probably." His eyes slipped shut for a moment. "But I think I ran a long way too. It took a long time for the adrenaline to wear off after—" He motioned halfheartedly at the bandages, then opened his eyes again. "You were the first person I saw. Why did you help me?"
She held his gaze for a few seconds before she had to break away. "I haven't figured that out yet." She drew her knees up to her chest. "Don't make me regret it."
He was quiet long enough that she started to think he'd fallen asleep or drifted out of consciousness yet again. It wouldn't surprise her. If he'd lost enough blood to pass out once—well, twice, now—and he could barely sit up, it wouldn't be too unusual if it happened again. Plenty of worse things could happen too. With a wound like that, it wouldn't be impossible for him to fall asleep and never wake again.
But after a while, his quiet rasp came again. "Do you have any water?"
She did. Not very much, but there was a little left in her waterskin, and she could sense a stream not too far away.
She offered him a few small sips, and there was another short period of silence. Then, "When I can walk, I'll find my uncle. He'll help you find your friends."
Katara stared at him. He didn't look like he was joking. She couldn't really imagine him ever joking. And it didn't look like he was lying either. She frowned. "Why?"
Zuko gave a small shrug and winced, clutching his wound. "Because you don't know why you're helping me."
She woke to the sound of rustling, and for a second, half expected to find Momo rifling through her belongings in search of treats. Instead, she found Zuko beside her, propped halfway up against the boulder, eyes wide and illuminated under the moonlight.
It took several long moments before she remembered why he was here, why she was with him, and even longer to realize that the rustling came from somewhere behind him. After last night, that noise was all too familiar.
She sat up with a gasp, and Zuko looked her way.
"What's tha—"
She shook her head and clamped a hand over his mouth. "Platypus bear," she said in the barest whisper. "It's close."
Zuko moved a little, then gasped, hand pressed to his stomach. Right. He was going to have a hard time getting away.
Fumbling in the dark, Katara untied the ropes around his wrist and grabbed his arm, hauling him upward. "Come on. Quietly."
For what felt like too long, he stared at her, then pushed off of the log. Straightening as much as he was able, he hobbled along beside her.
Katara could leave him behind, she realized. She could have left him tied to the log for the platypus bear to find, or she could release her grip on his arm and run on ahead. He'd never catch up. And the platypus bear would never come after her when there was easier prey so close by.
She could have. And yet she couldn't force herself to do it.
She told herself that it was because she'd worked too hard to bandage him up, because he'd offered to help bring her back to her friends. But a small, nagging corner of her mind disagreed. She tried to ignore the voice whispering, over and over, that there was something more to it. That she didn't like the idea of leaving someone behind when they could hardly walk, much less fight. She didn't, but even more than that, there was something—something else.
The rustling came closer, and then there was snuffling, and snarling. Katara fumbled for what little water she had left to fight off the beast. It was the only defense she had.
"Wait." Zuko's voice came soft and firm. He grabbed her arm, stopping her in her path. "Just stand still."
If she had been thinking, she would have taken it for a trap. She would have thought that Zuko was planning to push her into the platypus bear's jaws so he could have a chance at escape.
He did no such thing. Bracing himself against her as well as he could, Zuko walked around in a slow circle, setting fire to the undergrowth until they were surrounded. The light of the flames reflected off of beads of sweat on his forehead, and he rested against her shoulder, breathing hard, and clutching his stomach.
"Animals—don't like fire," he managed between gasps.
Katara wasn't sure she liked it either, but Zuko kept the flames in check, regulating the circle in time with his breathing.
Across the clearing, a platypus bear, bigger and meaner than she'd expected it to look, stepped out into the light and hesitated at the sight of the fire. It ventured closer, edging around them, looking for a clear angle, but found none. With every moment, Katara felt Zuko's weight fall heavier and heavier against her side, but she didn't dare look away from the beast baring down on them, not even to check if Zuko was okay. He had to be. If he wasn't, their best defense would break, and then—then Katara would have no choice but to leave him behind.
She didn't want that, she realized. It shouldn't matter to her, but she didn't want to leave him.
At last, the beast seemed to make up its mind, advancing although the flames still raged.
Katara uncorked her waterskin and held Zuko tighter. She may not know much waterbending yet, but she would do what she could. If nothing else, she would make it painful for the platypus bear to harm them.
Then everything happened all at once. The platypus bear swiped a huge paw at them, and with an agonized groan, Zuko swept forward to meet the bear with a plume of fire. The beast roared, rearing back away from the fire, and Katara, thrown off balance by Zuko's sudden movement, fell back, catching herself on her hands.
She didn't feel it at first. There was warmth—a lot of it—and she heard the crackling, but there was no pain. She watched Zuko buckle at the waist, then drop to his knees, and then when the platypus bear lumbered away, and Zuko turned back to look at her, his face pale and glistening in the firelight, she finally realized.
It hurt. Her hands, her arms—they hurt. She pulled them out of the flames, but not before Zuko's eyes went enormous and he grabbed her by the shoulders, hauling her forward.
"Katara?" he rasped, voice wavering as he got a glimpse of her hands.
It was only a glimpse, though. Katara bent over, scorched hands cradled against her stomach. It hurt. It hurt so much, and she could think about nothing else.
"Katara." Zuko's voice came clearer, firmer this time, and she managed to open her eyes a slit. He had found her waterskin, and he tried to push her up to get to her hands again. "You have to cool down the burns. That's the only thing that will help."
She knew that. She did. But her hands hurt so much that the thought of spilling water across the burned skin made her almost scream. She wrenched out of his grasp, keeping her burned hands out of his reach.
Zuko clutched his wounded middle and pushed himself up a little straighter, squinting into the darkness, his ponytail whipping along as he searched. "I'm sorry, Katara, but we have to go. There's a stream over there, maybe that will help."
She wasn't listening, not really, but she felt his hands close on her elbow, just above the highest peaks of the burn. As he guided her to her feet, she heard him gasp in pain. She should be worried about that, she thought dimly. She'd been concerned about him moving too much or too fast just a little while ago, and now she couldn't remember why.
"Just a little further," Zuko whispered by her ear, breathless, and Katara couldn't tell which of them he was trying to reassure.
She felt the stream's presence before she saw it and dropped to her knees by the water. It hurt. She didn't want to put her hands in the water—what if the cold made them hurt more? But she had to do something, and a part of her mind knew that Zuko was right. She had to cool down the burns if they were going to heal.
Beside her, Zuko crumpled, holding his stomach, his breath shallow and reedy.
She couldn't think about that. All she could think about was the burns on her hands and how she wished that they would stop hurting. She plunged them into the water, wishing for relief with all her strength. And then the water went bright around her hands.
"I'm sorry," Zuko whispered between thin gulps of air. "I'm sorry, Katara. This is my fault."
Katara pulled her hands out of the stream. They didn't hurt anymore. It was too dark to tell by sight, but the heat was gone, and the pain, and the stiffness—it was almost like they'd never been burned at all.
She stared disbelievingly into the black of the stream. She didn't know that she could do that.
Then she heard Zuko's struggling breaths, and she came back to reality. The burns weren't his fault. She never would have gotten them if she hadn't fallen. And now they were gone, wiped away like they were never there in the first place. He had to know that.
She turned his way, and by the light of the fire still burning in the clearing, saw his face in sharp relief. He'd lost all color, and his eyes were unfocused. Katara lifted his hand a bit and saw the blood leaking through the bandages again.
"Sorry," he gasped. "Take care of your burns. Just that. Just your burns."
She held her hands up in front of his eyes. "They're better, Zuko. See? I think I healed them."
He blinked and tried to focus on her face. "I'm so sorry."
Katara shook her head. He was slipping. She wasn't going to let that happen. With a frown of concentration, she drew a bulge of fresh water from the stream. "You didn't do anything wrong. You saved us." With her free hand, she clasped his shoulder. "And I'm going to find out if I can return the favor."
For lying under the open sky, Katara was surprisingly comfortable when she woke up. She was snuggled up against something—no, someone—warm, and she would be perfectly happy to stay there, head resting on what was probably a shoulder, listening to the heartbeat under her ear. But the arm wrapped around her waist was tense, like its owner was too afraid to move.
She raised her head just a bit, and found Zuko's wide, golden eyes staring down at her, his expression fixed in something halfway between surprise and terror. And judging by the tension in his arm, in his face, he'd been holding that expression for a while.
Fine. She'd get up if he was that uncomfortable. With a yawn, she sat up and stretched.
"Good morning," she said through the yawn.
Zuko blinked at her, then cleared his throat and pushed himself upright too. "Good morning," he croaked.
"What's that face supposed to be?"
His eyes remained wide, too wide, but he shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Katara raised an eyebrow at him.
"Um—" He rubbed the back of his neck. "What—why—"
She waited, watching his cheeks flush pinker and pinker by the second. It was nice to see some color returning to his face, even if it was prompted entirely by embarrassment. Whatever she'd done with her healing powers must have helped compensate for the blood loss if he could blush like that.
He rubbed at where the wound used to be in the middle of his stomach and glanced downward. "I—um." He swallowed. "What happened? Wasn't I hurt?"
Katara nodded slightly. "You were. How do you feel?"
"Better." He rubbed his stomach again. "I can still feel it—it aches a little, but I'd barely notice." Zuko looked deep into her eyes, his expression filled with the purest wonder and surprise she'd ever seen, especially on him. "How?"
She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "I think I have healing powers."
"Why would you use them on me?"
She had to think about that for a while. "Because it felt right. Because the platypus bear would have gotten us both if you hadn't used your firebending to scare it away." She peered at him from the corner of her eye. "Because you'd lost so much blood that you weren't listening to me when I told you that you saved us, and it wasn't your fault." She offered him a small, lopsided smile. "And I wasn't done yelling at you."
She caught a hint of a smile flashing across his face, then his gaze crept down toward her hands, and he let out a slow breath. "You're really okay."
She nodded. "And now I think I'll save the yelling for later." She snuck another look at him. "If you meant what you said about helping me find my friends. And if you promise not to try to capture Aang."
He met her eyes for a second and blushed before he had to look away again. "I promise."