The Sea of Ice (Sun and Moon Book 2)

Chapter 29 - Perpetual Consciousness

The days blurred together as Zuko and Katara trekked farther and farther into the Deep Pole. Even Zuko's inner fire couldn't keep him warm--it only kept him from freezing. Though Katara said nothing and never complained, he knew she had to be twice as cold as he was.

The sun sank slowly over the horizon, and Katara stopped bending, her shoulders slumping slightly. Zuko wanted to help her, wanted to keep her warm and safe. She stepped off the sled and immediately dropped into another stance, the action so familiar by now that she could have done it in her sleep.

In moments she'd formed a makeshift igloo around their sled, and Zuko stood, hunched slightly in the low space. He breathed fire into the air, warming the area considerably, as Katara used her bending to keep the snow and ice from melting. They had no wood for a fire, unless they planned to burn their sled, and that wasn't an option.

Their sled was what kept them alive in the freezing tundra, the ice walls Katara erected around it helped preserve their body warmth. What little they had, anyway. The two benders set up 'camp' in silence, spreading furs and opening containers of food. They were almost out of the food Kanna had sent with them, but the meat from the wolf-leopard-thing Zuko had killed, and meat from several other wild animals that had attacked them, was far from running out.

With Katara's ability to form the snow into drinkable water, and Zuko able to heat it so it didn't freeze them from the inside out, they wouldn't starve, and they wouldn't freeze. At least, not yet.

Despite all that, it was still bitterly cold, with a chill in the air that seeped into his bones and never really left.

They ate without speaking--not that they ever really spoke. They didn't need to, not for the little things like when they would stop and how long they would sleep, or how to go about killing whatever attacked them that hour. They had spent too long together to need to speak for those things.

But the things that needed to be said, those were the things that filled the silences. The things that had Zuko more on edge every day, more confused. He'd given her up, he'd let her go. But traveling with her, in a world of ice and snow where they could both die at any given moment, Zuko didn't feel the sense of peace and stability he'd felt back in the Southern Water Tribe.

No, now all he felt was something that was incredibly familiar and yet very, very foreign. He wanted to protect Katara, wanted to keep her safe, make her happy. She had once again invaded every part of him.

He couldn't help but watch her, the way she moved, the looks on her face when she thought he wasn't looking. She was more like Kara than he'd thought at first. She had the same quiet kindness in her eyes, though it only showed up when she was looking into the distance. She spoke with the same cadence, the same sharp tones that he knew could become soft and smooth at a moment's notice.

The differences, though, were obvious, too. Her bending, for one. Katara was both stronger and weaker than Kara. Kara had been strong mentally, with a deep reserve of never-ending resolve. Katara, though, was strong physically, with most of her being dependent on her bending. Her resolve and deep wells of inner strength seemed to have deserted her--though her stubbornness was the same as ever, if not worse. That made up for her lack of emotional stability. He could see in her eyes how lost she was. Sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night only to find her watching him.

He would lay still so she wouldn't know, and sometimes he could see her face in the moonlight. Her eyes were sad, confused, and strangely guilty. Her posture was defeated, like she'd given up on fighting some unseen enemy.

But in the daylight, her anger was still sharp as any blade. This was ten times worse than traveling with Kara had been--at least Kara didn't REALLY have a reason to hate him. She'd just thought she was supposed to, and he'd been able to change her mind. Katara though... sometimes he thought she really did hate him. And then sometimes a look would cross her face that was so achingly familiar, like she was trying to decide if she should trust him, if she should open herself to him.

He remembered Kara's inner struggles, and he wished there was something he could do to change Katara's mind. Because the farther they travelled, the more times they faced dangers together and overcame them, the more he got to know the woman his wife had become...

The more Zuko realized that he'd never really let her go.

A part of him still loved her so much he hurt inside, and that part of him would never, ever give up trying to win her back. He hated himself all over again, for not trying sooner, for not realizing that the reason she stayed away was because she thought she had to. She was good at protecting herself.

Even from him.

But despite this realization, some of her 'habits' made Zuko very, very angry. For instance, her refusal to believe that he could do anything right, her stubborn, seemingly everlasting anger at him. They way she'd snap at him, or just completely ignore him.

It made him angry, and mostly it did so because it hurt him. He hated being hurt.

And then there were the times when she'd look at him from the corner of her eye, or glance up from doing something else and see him, and there would be a split second where the hatred and the anger were gone.

And in their place was something Zuko had never thought he'd see from her again, something wonderful and impossible. Because in those moments, he'd swear she was happy to see him. He'd swear she was still his Kara, his stubborn, strong-willed wife. In those moments, Zuko almost felt complete.

But then the moment would pass, and she would be Katara again, and Zuko would be even more lost and depressed than before.

He was getting sick of it. Forget the cold, forget the death threats and the attacks and the worry about Aang. It was his love for this woman that would kill him one day, he was sure of it. After all, once you've fallen for your enemy, there's nothing in the world that can protect you.

**__**

The man was pacing again. Aang knew he was a man, because he'd heard his voice before. The man liked to talk to himself.

He also liked to yell at Aang. Of course, there wasn't much the young Avatar could do about it, being stuck in his own mind still. He could feel his body cramping, and he was ridiculously hungry. Plus he itched, EVERYWHERE.

He tried using the meditation tricks the monks had taught him, tried to focus on anything BUT the feel of his body that wasn't his to control. But it was difficult.

Aang was tired. He couldn't remember ever being this tired, not even in the days before the invasion of the Fire Nation. He was so mentally exhausted that it was a miracle he was still awake.

He listened to the man's pacing, wondering if he'd learn anything useful today. He didn't know the man's name, and he didn't know where they were. He wasn't even sure WHY he was there.

But he had found out, from all the man's yelling and muttering to himself, that this was some sort of elaborate plan. The man thought that the Aradens should be leading the world, not the Avatar. Aang guessed that the man had kidnapped him out of anger. But why keep him here? And HOW was he doing it?

To those questions, the airbender had no answers. So he laid wherever he was laying, trapped in his own skin, and listened.

And did his best to forget that somewhere out there, his friends were probably worried about him. How long had he been gone? Months? Years?

And what about Zuko and Katara? Had they torn the world apart yet? Was Aang to late to save his friends? Had Toph... had Toph found someone else to laugh with? To practice earthbending with?

Aang felt like crying, but no tears pricked his eyelids. His body may as well have been asleep, for all the good it did Aang. Even emotionally.

With an internal sigh, the Avatar returned to his mind games, trying to force himself not to think about all of the things that plagued his perpetual consciousness.

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