(Zutara) Hold it Gently; My Heart Burns For You

The Waterbending Scroll

Watertribes... Tell them.... Warn... Fire Nation... South.... Southern...."

Impossible to keep her thoughts straight. The ache just won't go away. No amount of sleep can steady the erratic, painful drum at her temple. Not enough water to drink. Can't dispel the searing scratch of her throat.

And cold. Always cold. No matter how many of her furs she wraps herself in.

She wouldn't be cold in Zuko's ship. Those pipes were a spirits-send. Maybe she could ask to go back to her cell, snuggle down in those blankets. He could read to her again, soothe her with that low octave his raspy voice can drop to when he's content and secure.

No, she can't go back. She escaped.

Didn't she?

This is what freedom is. Travelling with her friends. Off the water. Sick.

Curled up without the comfort of another body sitting against the wall, intent on making sure she's okay. Putting wet compresses over her eyes when the old ones dry out. Through the pulsing aches, she can conjure the image of Zuko, chin tipped to his chest as he dozed.

A new ache pulses in her heart. Didn't know fevers could cause those. Dozing with Zuko carries her through the long nights. She can't truly sleep, not when Sokka's fever has gripped him for a week and shows no signs of breaking. He needs her.

"Warn... Watertribes... Fire Nation... Protocols..."

What did she need to warn them of again?

The Fire Nation were planning an attack!

No, wait, they'd already done that. For a while now.

Moth-wasps buzz in her ears. No peace. At least in her cell she could count on it to be quiet. Quiet and always warm.

Warmth blooms now. Beside her, behind her closed and aching eyes. Comes closer, kneels down in front of her. She forces them open a crack; vision blurry as she stares joyfully at the soft glow burning in his hand. "You came back."

"I said I would, Katara," a soft voice murmurs. The other hand holds something small and shiny. She can only spare her energy for the light.

"You always came back, even when I feared you wouldn't." She laughs softly until it becomes a pained cough. "I begged you not to go."

A confused tilt to his head casts a shadow across her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"I begged you not to go... said I'd be alone... Was a lie." Her throat is dry as a bone when she swallows. "Truth... scared. Scared you wouldn't make it. Scared you'd leave... or get another..."

She can't get her eyes to focus, but something is off about his face. He always had the capacity to be gentle, even when he tried so hard to bury it under layers of brooding and wrath. But his face is too soft now, open and concerned.

And something else. She reaches up, and when she cups his left cheek, he leans into it without hesitating.

"Where... is it?"

"Where's what, Katara?"

"Where's... your scar?"

He recoils. Stupid. She knows not to bring it up. The slightest affiliation and he turns away. Conscious act or nervous compulsion? Sometimes she thought she knew. But he's just let her touch it, like it meant nothing at all, like it wasn't even there.

Something presses against her lips. Did he bring her water? He always brought her water, and she opens. It's not water. It's hard and cold.

"Suck on this. It will make you feel better," a dejected voice instructs.