The Lilac Horizon Between a Blue Sky and a Red Earth

Anticipating and Ignoring

His pain has festered, driving him to obsessively finish every last bit of paperwork without even a grumble. He requires constant distraction, to avoid thinking, particularly about Katara. During the past several weeks, he's placed Suki's disablement with the blame of his immense guilt and grief, but now that she's made a full recovery and returned to Kyoshi island, he is left with his gnawing emptiness. Zuko is no fool; he knows what he is missing.
His mind occasionally returns to his young friend, Lin, who he occasionally receives word from via his uncle, who visits at least a few times per month. Zuko can tell he is concerned. He's always concerned. Sometimes Zuko thinks his uncle was never able to stop seeing him as the ponytailed, angsty teen, judging by his attempts to pacify him with words of wisdom as he always has. Uncle Iroh knows one thing for sure- it is virtually impossible to force someone to realize something by simply telling them. You must provoke thought, whether it be by a question or a proverb or a strangely worded analogy that hints at discoveries of lifelong truths. The problem he discovered many years ago was that Zuko was too hurt to think much about anything other than restoring his honor that he truly believed would, in due time, numb his pain.
That's not what he needs right now. Zuko is facing a different kind of pain, one that Iroh acknowledges with a warm, weighted hand upon his shoulder. There is no sting of rejection this time, no sharp regret jabbing at his ribs, but instead a numbing ache that spreads through his ribcage like embers eating through the middle of a piece of paper.
He knows Katara ran away from him. That in her mind he remains as nothing more than a shameful mistake. If there's one thing she learned from Aang it's how to maneuver defensively and avoid confrontation, although while she and Zuko worked together this new knowledge seemed completely absent. With him, Katara was as he remembered her to be. With Aang, she was less than what she is. Somehow, this thought saddens him further. The fearless Waterbender, the girl who he had risked his life for, the girl who had rescued him and nearly killed him so many times, the one who had placed herself between countless threats and her loved ones on so many ridiculous occasions was shying away from him as if she were nothing more than a lapping current in a puddle.
A tear slips out as he begins to understand. If she has been reduced to a puddle, rippling with gentle air currents, he could not be the one to evaporate her completely. After a single pathetic moment of realization, he realizes that the Fire Lord is sobbing the ugly, traumatized sobs he's only heard once before, from his sister, chained to an iron crate above a thrashing flow of groundwater. His uncle yanks him into a familiar hug, a sort of understanding, forgiving hug that says everything that is needed to be said. How he does this, Zuko doesn't know. Why he does this, however, is known to them both.
In this singular vulnerable moment, as the Fire Lord finds himself weeping uncontrollably into his uncle's lapel, he begins to understand that losing a father is not so different from losing a son, and that maybe having a son wouldn't have to be so different than this.

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Weeks pass, unbeknownst to Zuko. He is the perfect diplomat, impersonal, impersonating a professional politician. He sends ambassadors left and right, numbly patting the world back into shape. He hears absolutely nothing from Katara and Aang, but about six weeks after Suki's return home Zuko receives a beautiful scroll inviting him to her wedding, which is expected to take place in a little more than a month, in the botanical gardens of Ba Sing Se.
This good news only brings short-lived joy when he realizes that Katara has undoubtedly received an invitation as well. His chest swells momentarily in anticipation, but his happiness fades when he realizes that, should they see each other, she'd be the perfect stranger. She would arrive, flawlessly done up and accessorized, and not notice him sat at the front of the room, equally done up, wearing too much cologne in his silly attempt to impress his friend since adolescence, much like a school boy sitting up a little straighter when the pretty girl walks by. He would watch Katara slow dance with the boy who saved the world, and eventually, she will become his queen, and he, her Avatar. Who would choose to be Fire Lady when they could be the mother of a world reborn?
He registers his loss feverishly, a wave of bitterness sweeping over him unexpectedly. Who would ever choose to be Fire Lady? Who would ever choose to be his Fire Lady when they could be basking in the freedom the world offers?
Zuko drops the invitation into a desk drawer and slams it, neglecting to think about it any further, but he already knows the answer to his own question.
Nobody. Nobody would. Especially not somebody like Katara.