Chapter 16
Katara stood behind the prince with a hairbrush in her hands and wondered how she ended up in this mundane scenario. If someone was to look in from the window, the appearances would deceive. Her hand paused midair, unsteady. He was trying to relax his shoulders, but he was still too rigid. When her fingers touched his hair, he jumped.
“I’ve done this before,” she reassured him.
“It can’t get worse.”
“How short do you want it to cut?”
He leaned his head back, not quite touching her stomach, and looked at her. “How short can you cut?”
“Do you want me to shave it?”
“No,” he said, sharply.
Katara shrugged. “You asked.”
“No.”
“Short and low maintenance?”
After he nodded, she gently straightened his head. Her attempt to detangle the hair knots failed when the hairbrush lost half of its teeth. She decided to first cut off all the knots and then try to brush it and worry about the length. Katara chopped Zuko’s hair with a few breaks in between to rescue Tom-Tom from various close-to-death experiences.
Once his hair was free of tangles, without paying attention to her actions, she ran fingers through the strands to make sure it was smooth. Ever so lightly, he leaned into her touch. It was so subtle she almost missed it. Katara continued running her fingers through his hair longer than necessary.
“Are you going to tell me what happened to you?” she asked.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got all evening.”
“It’s a boring story.”
Katara reviewed her life and concluded there was too much excitement in it as it was. “I can use some boring.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“And you think I didn’t get that?” No matter which way she poked it, he didn’t respond. It took all of her maturity not to pull his hair. “How is your wound?”
“Healed.”
“So, what are you doing in Omashu?” She realized she spoke too soon. She didn’t want to know the answer.
“My uncle is here.”
Katara’s hands paused, not expecting that. “Is that good?”
“Considering how he almost died of poisoning, became a prisoner, and now you are about to trade with my sister, good isn’t the word that comes to mind.”
And he didn’t want to tell her what happened to him? “Start from the beginning and leave nothing out.”
“Katara.”
“Don’t. Did you see your uncle? Is he okay?”
He nodded. “He is fine now.”
“Did you meet your sister?”
Zuko huffed.
“Your girlfriend then?”
“Mai, please call her Mai.”
“What’s the difference?” She hated the sound of her own voice. What was wrong with her? She added before he could respond, “How long have you been here?”
“Not long enough to sleep.”
Was he trying to earn sympathy? Because that wouldn’t work. She snipped the air in front of his face. “Seeing how I’m holding the scissors, maybe you want to consider being more forthcoming? And maybe I’ll consider letting you sleep.”
“Violence isn’t always the answer, Katara.”
She grabbed his head and pulled it towards her to look at him. “You don’t have the moral ground for that answer, Prince Zuko. Now, talk.”
He didn’t talk. Every bit of information she pulled out of him like she was pulling out teeth. She knew he left out more than he told her, but at least she got some details of how he found his uncle. Some details. Like maximum three sentences? She couldn’t believe he even tried to bargain Tom-Tom for information.
Afte Zuko told her about his plan to rescue Iroh when the princess would leave the governor’s house and how conflicted he seemed when he learned who his sister was meeting, uneasiness trickled inside her.
“Zuko, I swear if I wake up and you and the baby aren’t here, I’ll hunt you till the end of days and beyond. Promise me you won’t interfere with our plans.”
“You don’t know my sister.”
“And I want to keep it that way. I don’t want to reveal our identity.”
“You don’t know my sister,” he said bitterly. “What you want won’t matter. This will not go according to your plan.”
Katara had to admit the moment she heard about the Fire Nation’s princess’s involvement, her stomach twisted into knots. She wanted to rethink their plan. It was a terrible plan to begin with, and now it was getting more complicated. But that didn’t mean she would allow Zuko to take Tom-Tom.
Another round of threats later, he worked his jaw a few seconds before replying. “I promise I won’t take Tom-Tom without your permission.”
“That was long and suspiciously specific.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “And no hidden agenda.”
Katara let his head go and continued cutting his hair. Her brain fired questions left and right in the silence. She frowned as another thing tugged at her mind. “Were you following me today?”
“Yes.”
“From the campsite?”
“Yes.”
She guessed it the moment she saw him, but the reassurance helped her relax. “Wait, how did you know where I was?”
He didn’t reply so long as she walked around to face him. He looked at her with curiosity and...and disappointment? What was that look in his eyes?
“You don’t feel it,” he said softly, a slight flush creeping up his neck.
Her brows drew together, trying to figure out what was happening. “Feel what?”
He shook his head.
Katara folded her arms across her chest. “Do you think I’ll let it go because you shook your head? Feel what?”
Now he was looking everywhere but at her.
“Zuko!”
“Do you call that hiding?”
To be fair, she had thought the same thing when the rebels camped at the nearest cliff. But that wasn’t the discussion. “How did you know I was still in Omashu?”
Zuko looked at the outside world through the thin curtains, as if gathering his thoughts. Katara was sure in the time it took him to reply, Tom-Tom could have gotten married. “I could feel you were nearby and finding the rebels wasn’t that difficult.”
Huh?! “What do you mean you can feel when I’m nearby?”
“I don’t know what I mean, I’m telling you what I know.”
“You aren’t making any sense.”
But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense to her. That time when she needed to leave him on Appa going had felt like a physical pain, as if the mental wall she put between them was real. And there was the fact she had been angry for weeks and how it dissipated the same day he arrived. And then there was her healing ability, or lack thereof. Katara didn’t want to think about other tiny details falling into their places.
Zuko tilted his head to the side. “It makes sense to you.”
She shook her head. Then the liquid gold of his eyes lost its shimmer, and she amended the direction her head was moving. “Since when?”
“Since you saved my life.”
“And?”
“And?” he asked in confusion.
“What else?”
“Isn’t it enough?”
Her brain didn’t have enough capacity to deal with it. This wasn’t good. Yet so many things made sense. The way she felt as if they had known each other forever. How comfortable she was with him. How she missed him. Even now her fingers itched to touch him, to be nearer than she was. And both of them knew that wasn’t normal. She had never heard of such a thing. And it quite surprised her he hadn’t hunted all the Spirits in the world to find answers, because it was five seconds since she found out and Katara was ready to march to the nearest door to the Spirit World and demand answers.
“And?” Zuko asked.
She looked at him and jumped in her skin, at the focus with which he regarded her. Katara blinked. “And what?”
“And your thoughts?”
“I’ve not been able to use my healing abilities at all unless you are around.”
“I already know that.”
“Also, I’ve been very irritable and constantly angry and then last night I felt like I could breathe again. How close were you when you felt it?”
“Felt what?” he asked.
“Where I was.”
After a long pause, he answered, “It never stopped.”
Did he not go that far or there was no limit? What did it mean? Why? Was it a side effect? How long before it wore off? Would it? Who was going to answer her questions? “What are we going to do about this?”
“I thought you would know what to do.”
She shook her head. “Whatever this is, no one warned me about it either. Have you tried to talk to any Spirits?”
“You think I’m the one who talks to the Spirits?”
Okay, that was very unlikely, but he spent time there, didn’t he? It was a valid question. She glared at him. “Have you talked to your uncle about it?”
He looked at her like she lost her mind.
She looked at him like he had lost his mind. “Why aren’t you burning down cities searching for answers?”
“To which questions?”
“Zuko!”
“Which cities do you want me to burn?”
The sudden surge of fight drained out of her as another thing occurred to Katara. “Did you feel I was moving away?”
It looked like he wouldn’t answer, but he inclined his head in a manner you might call a nod.
“What does it feel like?”
“Are you done cutting?” he asked instead of answering.
Katara shook her head absentmindedly and walked back behind the chair. The sound of scissors snapping became the only sound in the silence that stretched between them. Followed by occasional baby sounds from Tom-Tom. After he discovered the existence of scissors, he forgot all about Zuko. At least for now. Of course, Katara couldn’t give him scissors, which almost caused a commotion. Of all the strange heros, a piece of paper had saved the day. She felt a little terrible for teaching him how tear paper to pieces. Now, Tom-Tom sat next to a pile of shredded paper, and soon there would be no paper left intact in the house. Katara’s hands moved faster as she cut the remaining hair. It ended up too short to grab, but long enough to run fingers through. She brushed hair off his shoulders, before running over his scalp one last time.
“All done. You can wash now.”
Katara cleaned up while he was in the bathroom. She was glad for Tom-Tom. It gave her something else to think about. He was getting sleepy, which made him irritable. Every few minutes he let out a scream, fighting with everything in front of him. Katara held him while she went back to check on the dinner. She tried a few things to get his attention. Nothing worked until Katara let him help her stir the pot.
Zuko walked back in the kitchen and halted to a stop, towel still on his head. He stood in the doorway, looking mystified. He coughed a few times, blinking rapidly. The prince seemed to have cleared his thoughts because he marched to the chair. She glimpsed her handiwork when the towel slipped down. The haircut suited him… Katara turned around, eyes wide. All of this was too much. Her mind was tearing apart. One part wanted to ignore all of it, and the other pushed her to dwell on every detail.
They ate dinner without talking, as if both too freaked out to interact. Probably from the same realization. After they ate dinner, Tom-Tom wouldn’t let her go. She ordered Zuko to do the dishes, half expecting the prince to blow up from indignation. He looked like he might just do that, but he got control of his emotions. With a self-satisfied smile, Katara walked out of the room.
Katara let Tom-Tom lay his head on her shoulder and they swayed around the room as she hummed. It had worked for the last few days to put him to sleep, and she hoped this time would be no different. In a few minutes, Tom-Tom was asleep. She turned around to go to the bedroom and found Zuko watching her with wide eyes. He looked different with that haircut. She shouldn’t have let him wash or cut his hair. Spirits… This was bad. This was very bad.
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he muttered, pivoted and disappeared back into the kitchen.
“Sure?” she whispered to the empty air.
Katara used the owner’s kid’s bed for Tom-Tom and left the bedroom door ajar to hear if he woke up. Hesitating at the door, she looked around the room. He was still in the kitchen. The energy between them felt confused and awkward and full of questions. Should she even go to the kitchen? Conversations with him weren’t exactly walking in the sunshine. She could sit here. Wait and think about it. She snorted at the thought and covered it too late.
Her foot moved on its own accord. She was in the kitchen before she decided to move. Zuko stood at the sink. Both hands outstretched and covered in thick foam of dish soap. The sink itself looked like a white cloud exploded on it. Katara leaned against the doorway and observed him. The prince looked utterly lost. The more water he added, the bigger the cloud grew. Some of it spilled on the counter, soaking Zuko’s shirt. Zuko’s borrowed shirt.
She barely held her laughter as she spoke, “Have you ever washed anything in your life?”
He muttered something, but she was too far to hear it.
With little effort, Katara pulled out water from the shirt, then picked up the tap and washed down the dish soap from his arms. Handing him a hand towel, she pushed him towards the chair. “Go sit on the chair. I’ll finish it.”
He seemed too stunned to react, following her instructions without protest. She washed the remaining dishes. His gaze never left her back.
“So you are going back?”
“To get Iroh out.”
“With your girlfriend’s help.”
“Look, she isn’t really my girlfriend,” he said in frustration. “She is just a friend I’m helping.”
“You already explained it.”
Really, Katara? Seriously?! Ugh!
“It seems I didn’t,” his voice came right behind her, making her jump from the closeness. When did he move? She sucked in shallow breaths, her heart racing. Why was he so close? How did they move from awkward to I-can’t-breathe? “Your tone is misleading.”
“I’m just concerned over my assets. Wouldn’t want you to die before I collect my favor.” She attempted a breezy matter-of-fact tone and sounded anything but.
His chuckle fanned her hair. He leaned in closer. “From prisoner to asset, what glorious deeds do you think I committed?”
She stared at the closed shatters covering the outside world from her. Her fingers tightened against the sink. If it was possible, he even moved closer. She couldn’t concentrate. Not when he was so close. He needed to move away. She needed to think. The words were out of her mouth before she could filter it. Now wasn’t exactly the time for another hot topic, but it was the only thing coming to her mind to push him away.
“Nothing yet, but training Aang in firebending will be your glorious act.”
“Huh?!” and he was across the room from her.