The cooler
The guards talked as his feet bounced on the steps. Mostly Raspy talked, fighting for humane treatment while the other two laughed at him. The back of Zuko’s heels were rubbed raw after a few flights of stairs, but he didn’t predict he would pass out before reaching his new home. He woke up disoriented, lying on a hard suffice. At least he had a pillow and his hands were out of the horrible things. He still wore the gloves. They became part of his body, he barely felt its presence compared to the first few days.
With his fingers frozen he couldn’t firebend, but his other senses worked. He could still feel fire all around him. He wasn’t prepared how much worse his imprisonment could get. In the cooler, the absence of heat crippled him as if his limb was severed. His brain made orders and his body followed but nothing happened. Just a tingle where his bending used to be. How did Zuko allow himself to become so broken? Helpless? The prince to the Fire Nation was reduced to nobody. He wasn’t born to be nobody. His life felt impossible and he couldn’t even set it on fire.
Where is she? Will she ever be back?
Why did it matter? Why should he care? She was gone. He was exhausted, starved, thirsty, and alone. He didn’t dare dream someone would remember to check on him. He was abandoned. Hadn’t he always been abandoned?
He missed Uncle. He didn’t show proper appreciation for him. But Zuko was grateful. He’d show more appreciation if the old gasbag actually tried to help him to go back. Iroh was never in a hurry for the prince to regain his honor and return home. He was frustrated, and frustrated Zuko...well, he never did what he knew he should do.
He needed to get his self-pity under control if he ever wanted to get out of here. He’d reasons to get out of here. Ironically, he couldn’t face most of his own reasons. He forced his eyes to open. For a few seconds he thought he lost his control on his eyelids. His disorientation was further worsened by the total darkness. His eyes fell shut because it didn’t matter. Blackness awaited him on both sides.
Zuko’s quest for his redemption died with each hungry gargle in his stomach. He didn’t know how long passed. Was it an hour? A day? A year? It felt more like an eternity. He begged his remaining limbs to move when screaming and yelling didn’t work. Could his body heal? How long would it take? He was half-starved at the verge of giving up when he heard a door open somewhere above.
Was someone coming for him? How long would his happiness last? Were they coming to kill him? That too sounded sweet. For a few minutes he heard nothing. Then a spark of light grew bigger blinding him. He heard a feather like footsteps approaching. His heart stuttered in his chest. It can’t be.
She was here. She was back. His eyes focused on her form wrapped in a cloak, the light burning his eyes. He would recognize those footsteps anywhere. He didn’t need other senses to tell him it was her. But he was glad when she removed the hoodie and let him see her face.
She couldn’t see him. Her eyes darted around his dark room, searching for him. He was in a large cooler, tacked on the opposite side of the metal bars. The candle light reached halfway through the cooler. She hugged herself closer, frown deepening on her forehead.
“Prince Zuko?” she whispered.
No will to fight it, he closed his eyes at the sound of her voice. At the sound of his name on her lips. Why did she bother with the title? Why didn’t he want her to ever stop whispering the two words she whispered to him on this journey? He liked how it felt like a shared secret. Intimate. Did she also feel like that?
Katara walked around the small space, her arm moving up and down. The safety of darkness stayed over him. He didn’t know if he could talk yet. He wouldn’t embarrass himself by mumbling. He also didn’t know what to say, where to start. He would take the safety of the darkness and his silence. His cooler was the only room on the floor. The two walls either side of the cooler ended with the stairs Katara had taken. He definitely was on the deepest level the earthbenders could dig.
Why is she here?
She sighed, the sound echoing on the stone walls. “I don’t know why I bothered. What am I doing here?”
He felt better because she was conflicted. So, she didn’t know what she was doing? He didn’t doubt her honesty. On one hand, blaming what was happening on her was easier. His thoughts crashed and collided against each other. A part of him wanted to be her type of guy, and the other part wanted to run further than all that was mapped. At the moment her type of guy was winning, so he kept his mouth sealed. He couldn’t very well run, could he? He could barely keep his eyes open. His gaze was fixed on her as long as she was in the view and all thanks to sheer will to see her face.
Despite asking herself her intentions, she sat on the ground and placed the candle stick next to her thigh. Katara rubbed her arms, looking around. “It’s colder than I expected.” Then laughed humorlessly before her eyes widened and lips pressed into a thin line. Red colored her cheeks.
Spirits, she is beautiful.
The silence was comfortable and lasted longer than he thought her short-tempered nature could allow. He wished they stayed that way forever. Barely minutes passed before she spoke again, “Are you going to answer me? Don’t pretend you aren’t awake. I know you are.” She played with the hem of her cloak, muttering to herself. She wasn’t as quiet as she thought. He heard her words. No, more fitting, she growled the words. “If they didn’t lie to me.”
He couldn’t embarrass himself. He needed to check if he could talk first. It hadn’t occurred to him to do so. What if he didn’t get another chance? What if this was his last chance seeing her? Third time, right? What could he possibly say? Katara looked up, her eyes scanning the darkness. She leaned closer. He believed she may not only see him but his spirit as well. A hefty assumption I have one, the prince thought to himself.
“Do you know you have golden eyes that shine like lanterns in the darkness? I know you are there. You might as well talk to me… Okay, you don’t even have to say thank you. One time offer only.” She was Sokka’s sister through and through, sarcasm drenching her words. He remained silent. She lasted another few minutes before sighing. Zuko was glad she was like him, impatient. “Your eyes don’t glow. I’m not even sure you are there. They didn’t want me to see my own prisoner.” she gave a short disbelieving laugh which turned into a cough as she realized it was more serious than ridiculous. “Uh, because they heard who you are.”
He didn’t expect his anonymity could last this long. He thanked the spirits he was immobile otherwise he couldn’t have stopped his reaction when she opened the clasp on her water skin. “Now I’m worried I’m talking to an empty wall. I’ll check if you are there very quickly. Any last words before I do it?”
What was she up to? He was more curious than afraid. Did she think soaking him in water could make him answer her? The prince’s lips twitched. He wasn’t smiling a second later when water from the water skin slithered between the bars like an extended finger. He was perfectly still whether he wanted or not. The water finger reached his bed and poked his side hesitantly.
He heard Katara let out a relieved sigh. “That’s a good start. At least there is a warm body.” The water finger traveled upwards, past his face and circled his ponytail. “Well, the ponytail does fit the prince… So, you are just as ungrateful as ever? ‘Thank you, Katara, for saving my life,’” she mimicked him unsuccessfully. He didn’t speak like he had a hot potato in his mouth. “‘Now that I owe you one I’ll stop hunting your friend.’ No? Nothing? I surely brought these apples for nothing. Why do I ever bother?”
She got up and left muttering to herself. If this was the last time he saw her, definitely not how he wanted it to go. Why was he so bad at everything? Why couldn’t he get it right for once? Why--
The door in the distance, which closed with a bang not a minute ago, opened again. The darkness receded as the candlelight grew. Katara clutched this candlestick, her brows drawn together angrily. Her mutters were louder and inaudible, he only understood a few words--silly ponytail, ignorant bastard, ungrateful idiot. He was all of that. But ‘silly ponytail’? He snorted in his mind. His ponytail wasn’t silly. Her loops were…her loops were… it dawned on him he had nothing negative to say about her loops. Turned out, he’d lots of positive things to say.
She put the candlestick on the ground. Waterbending, she brought a bag of apples and laid it close to his bed. Without uttering another word she left, leaving the candle behind. Even in anger, she couldn’t help her kindness. He was the worst kind of bastard. Why was she still here? How long would she stay? Would she be back? When? His agony lasted past compelling his arms to reach the apple, begging his mouth to eat it, and the candle burning completely.
But she came back.
“I need to run and this feels like a good place to run, at the moment. Not that you are asking questions. I know guards aren’t coming around. I brought you water, food, and more candles. Oh, don’t mention it. You are welcome.”
Could a person faint because their heart tried to break out?
She sat in the same place as before. She will-drew a newspaper from her cloak. He recognized the style. She’d the Fire Nation state run newspaper. How did she get it? What was she doing with it? What was Katara running from? Why was this the place she wanted to run to? What was she still doing here? He couldn’t ask her the questions yet. He didn’t lose his ability to talk. After he ate his fifth apple, he checked. Both checking his voice and eating apples were a bad idea without water to drink. The apples were ripe, sweetness gluing his lips together. And his voice was just a croak.
Better to let her think he was ungrateful rather than make that sound again. After he drank that bottle of water thanking her would be his priority. He already had a talk with himself. He thought his first question would be why did he save her, now all he wanted to know was what she was doing with the Fire Nation newspaper. Was it some sort of new torture technique? The best torture he had gotten so far. Katara’s soft and clear voice was soothing like swimming in warm, calm seas. She read the entire newspaper to him, got up and left without a word.
The candle burnt. His thirst drove his arm to pick up the bottle without much begging. He drank it. It took half the candle before he was able to bring more food towards him then realized with no water he couldn’t eat. He had to wait for her again. And again, like a clockwork she appeared on top of stairs with the newspaper under her arms and a bag of food over her shoulder. She brought more food and more water. She asked no questions. Just read the newspaper from front to back and left.
He stewed in his thoughts the rest of the time. He practiced talking and what he would say. He sounded stupid moment he said her name. He couldn’t even get past her name. What was wrong with him?! I wish Uncle was here. He always has ideas, even if his ideas are mostly ridiculous when it comes to the opposite gender. After a small consideration he decided probably it was better he wasn't there.
The next time she came, he had no more excuses not to talk. He was getting stronger. All thanks to her. He was alive all thanks to her. He needed to speak. He sat on the bed, his head against the cold wall. He still had trouble walking, two steps and he was on the ground. Zuko watched her and the longer he watched, the less sure he was of everything. His head was full of contradicting thoughts. At times, he felt like his brain trying to burst from his skull.
He heard the light footsteps before she brought the light back in the room. He figured out each candle burnt about five hours. He made sure before she got back he was in pitch blackness. The candles were saving his life as the food was. He needed to be close to heat to heal properly. In the coolness he was too broken to be fixed. In the light he always found hope.
Katara sat on the ground next to the candle. The usual place. The usual time. He had no idea if that was true but he had a pretty good guess. He knew she was sneaking here to see him, which meant she surely used the cover of night to visit him. By his approximate calculations with the rate of candle burning, she came around the same time.
She read the newspapers as usual but as she finished the news part of it, she spoke to him, “They don’t write anything about you in the papers. How could they not wonder what happened to you? It’s not like many people know I saved your life and now you are our prisoner.”
He thought about it since she started reading the news to him. In his world, no news was good news. He listened each day for the sake of Uncle. They had set up a few measures for these kinds of cases. He was glad yet again Katara without even understanding what she was doing she was helping him. Or, did she realize what she was doing? Was she trying to bind him with debts so he gave up chasing the avatar?
“You know I can hear you breathing, right?” she asked. She closed the newspaper and looked up. She was looking in the right direction, little to the left and she would look him straight in the eye. “It’s louder and stronger. You are recovering fast. That’s good.”
The thank you was on his lips but before he uttered a word she was gone.
And she didn’t come back.
And she didn’t come back.
And she didn’t come back.