The Fire Lord and the Stormwitch

Chapter 4 - Terrible and Wrathful

Katara didn't feel any pain. In fact, the healing water she was running over her skin felt cool and soothing, like the winds back home in the South. The others were asleep - she'd tended them before herself, despite their objections. In truth, Sokka and Suki's wounds were far worse than her own or Zuko's. Even hours afterwards both were still getting flashes of sharp pain, a residual effect of the damage the bolt-spirit had done to them.

Carefully, Katara removed the bandage from across her face. The cut had grazed the side of her eye, slicing diagonally downwards over her nose and mouth. It would be ugly if she didn't tend to it soon, so she quickly floated fresh healing water over and submerged the right half of her face. She sighed. Countless times, she'd put herself and her friends back together after a fight. She wished she could believe this would be the last, but she couldn't. There would always be another fight.

Someone moved behind her, slowly and with elevated heart rate. With the full moon rising in the sky, she could feel every drop of their blood. It could only be Zuko, as despite her immense healing talent Sokka and Suki were in no fit shape to walk, no matter how slowly.

"Hey," she said, not turning around.. "You should be resting."

He walked further into the room and sat heavily on the floor, letting his back and head rest against the wall. "Couldn't sleep," he said. He didn't say not after what we saw, but Katara understood nonetheless. She hummed in understanding.

In truth, Katara wouldn't be able to sleep either. The sight of herself, terrible and wrathful - that wasn't what she wanted to be. But that was who she'd had to be, in order to stop the Firelord. For so long, she'd tried to believe that there was another way. That she'd save everyone with peace and love and care. But when it had come down to it, the choice had been clear. Kill or be killed. Kill, or the world burns.

In the end, it was an easy choice. It always was.

Katara closed her eyes and felt the dread of another war threaten to crush her.

They sat in silence as she healed herself, the blue water tingling against her face. Zuko didn't say a word, but she didn't mind. She knew him well enough to know that he didn't want to be alone just now. The truth was that she didn't either.

Slowly, the gash on her face began to close, the bleeding coming to a stop. Katara let the water fall back into a large dish and took up a dry cloth. She dried her damp face, running her fingers softly over the scar the blade had left behind. When she was finished, she looked up at Zuko.

He looked tired. It was more than simply being fatigued or exhausted - it permeated every part of him. She knew that look well. The responsibility, the enormity of his task and the consequences of failure. They weighed on her as well. For a long moment they met each other's eyes, waiting for the other to break the silence.

"What... what was that?" Zuko finally asked. She didn't need to ask what he meant.

"I've never seen a spirit like it," Katara said. "Well, technically we didn't see it at all. It just sort of... enveloped us. Showed us..." she paused, hesitant to share her theory.

"Our fears," Zuko said, and Katara breathed in relief that he'd thought the same thing. "Our deepest fear."

"I think so," Katara said, but she knew what she'd seen. "I mean, it makes sense. You're afraid that you'll fail to keep the Fire Nation together-"
"No," Zuko said quietly. "That's not it."

"It... isn't?"

He shook his head, not meeting her eyes. "There's... this thought I have. I can't get it out of my head, and it gets louder every day. It's... what if I'm not the right person to lead this country? My father never raised me to lead, or at least not to lead well." He looked up at her, and his eyes were wet with desperation. "I don't know if I can do this, Katara. Every day's a little harder, a little closer to disaster. I don't know what I'm doing half the time, I feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark. I'm afraid all the time. Afraid that I'll give up, that I should give up. That everything will come crumbling down around me, and there isn't anything I can do about it but die. That... that my uncle was wrong about me."