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

Imprisoned

There's something in the water
Starts a fire
Feel like I should warn ya
But I never learn

~ ~ ~

Sokka and Aang don't ask her, talk about, or mention Jet, ever, and for that Katara would wash all the dirty socks and make all the separate dinners the vegetarian and carnivore could ask for. Except they're also going out to forage, taking turns pitching the tent, shedding Appa, chasing down Momo to make sure he isn't getting fleas, and Katara's a little less grateful. She's never dealt well with idle time. Every lax second, she counts down until Aang and Sokka grow bored or does one of her chores wrong so she can do it again, the right way. Meditating might work for people like Aang when stress and trauma threaten to overwhelm them, but if she doesn't over-function her body, her mind will crawl deeper into the dark pit Jet's cruelty left in her soul and drag her down with it.

But she's careful not to hover, micromanage, or criticize. It's not in her nature to nag, she hopes. Idle time creates too much time to think, remember, drag her deeper into the ghost of a touch, the flame which wants to flicker, desperate not to go out.

Maybe that's why she latches onto Haru. Sweet and genuine, governed by his pain but not moulded by it like Jet, even if when he tries to take her hand she shies back, hiding her shiver of revulsion behind a quick shoulder pat and forced, tittering laugh. She isn't ready for something like that again, even the idea of it.

"I'm sorry," she says, flinging whatever she can at the wall and hope it distracts away from how awkward she feels. "about what I said earlier. I didn't know about your father."

"That's okay." He busies himself with two rocks on the ground in front of them. "It's funny, the way you were talking back in the store? It reminded me of him."

She's flattered despite herself. "Thank you."

"My father was very courageous." He isn't talking to her anymore, not really. His fingers spin the small pebbles as his mind drifts back to that day, five years ago. "When the Fire Nation invaded, he and the other earthbenders were outnumbered ten to one. But they fought back anyway. After the attack, they rounded up my father and every other earthbender, and took them away." His fingers stop manipulating the pebbles. "We haven't seen them since."

"So that's why you hide your earthbending."

"Yeah. Problem is ..." Before her eyes the pebbles lift from his palm and resume their dance in the air. "the only way I can feel close to my father now is when I practice my bending." The pebbles drop despondently back into his palm, and he crushes them with a single squeeze. Sand flies away into the ether. "He taught me everything I know."

Katara's fingers touch her treasured glass bead. Like Haru forgot her, she's taken back to her own crushing day of realising how cruel the world can be. "See this necklace? My mother gave it to me."

Haru looks over his shoulder before coming closer to get a better look at the carving. When he leans down she can feel his breath on her neck. "It's beautiful."

"I lost my mother in a Fire Nation raid. This necklace is all I have left of her."

"It's not enough, is it?"

Haru aches for his missing father, lives constantly in fear, yet even as he hides his bending, his true self, Katara finds his fear more truthful than hate.

And he's nice. When she has to have the concept of money explained to her, he does it gently as he picks his mother's discarded copper pieces from the floor. When he leads her, Aang, and her brother to the market he keeps them away from the stalls and sides of town reserved for the Fire Nation soldiers. They can legally go to those areas, but two watertribe citizens  would draw enough eyebrows without Aang tagging along. She just hopes the soldiers don't decide they want to slum it the same time as their shopping trip with Haru.