Merits Ch.40 - WIP / ignore
“Merits” Chapter 40.
Back to the beginning again
When Katara woke the next morning-still huddled awkwardly on the couch, having fallen asleep at her keyboard during her exhaustive research the night before-it was to the bubbling excitement that fizzed inside her.
From the bond.
Muttering swears under her breath, she looked around blearily before collapsing again.
An early riser, are we?
You never really cared for early mornings unless I woke you, the voice greeted her cheerily-and Katara didn’t miss the underlying hints about just how he did so, the warmth subconsciously flooding her cheeks.
But she was confused. And not just from her broken sleep.
We just ‘met’ at my accident, though, didn’t we?
But even as she thought it, she realised it wasn’t true-flashes of images, memories?, burst onto her mind’s eye: children sliding down an ice slide into a lake in summer; the feel of a pelt-skirt wrapped and bunched around her waist as she waded into a pond; waking to find a beautiful necklace around her throat-
She started.
What… when…
Those are your memories, he informed her; she felt her breathing hitching as it had the night before when he’d first spoken the word, ‘soulmates’.
But this looks-feels-too… too…
Katara stumbled over her words, trying to find one that fit the way the scenes affected her.
He was patient as she stuttered through her confusion.
Old, she finally decided, for lack of a better word.
Genuine, he corrected. It was a long time ago.
How long?
Katara felt his reluctance to indulge her curiosity, and tried not to prod him too much.
A hundred and fifty years ago, he finally replied. That’s when we first met.
She felt her mouth go dry.
Who and the what now?!
(BR)
Toph walked into her living room that afternoon to find Katara furiously typing on her laptop, completely focused, and occasionally muttering under her breath.
Her… pungent... breath.
Sniffing subtly and turning away from her temporary roommate, Toph put her hands on her hips and approached warily.
“So, Katara… I see you found the whiskey,” her foot tapped against something hard and round that shifted beneath her, “and the wine.”
“Yeah, so,” Katara retorted, and then-to Toph’s surprise-she seemed to look upwards and snap, “and you shut up! You… you…” her words receded into crazed mumblings again.
Toph’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline.
“Is everything ok over there?”
“Just fine, I said. Weren’t you listening?... No, not you… I am talking to TOPH. Go away!”
Toph blinked slowly and closed her eyes, giving a subtle tap to the carpet. Had she missed something?
No, no one else was in the room…
“Are you working on something?” she asked cautiously, mentally scanning the room for anything that may have triggered Katara to drink herself into such a state. A social drink at the club was one thing-but this was Katara, Katara!, completely sloshed. And talking to herself.
Aloud.
“School. History. My paper.”
Then Katara snorted, and seemed to reply to the ‘other’ presence again, “No, no more help from you. I don’t want any more of your ‘personal experience’ about my so-called past life, thank you… No, I’m not, I’m just saying that I need to back this up with research! … I never said that! Spirits, why are you still arguing with me! I never said I didn’t believe you!... Ok, you know what, fine. Why don’t you just write up the whole frikkin’ story and e-mail it to me then? Ok? Fine, good, whatever. I’m getting more to drink.”
Toph blinked again.
And heard a bottle glug-glugging as someone took wild, slinging swallows.
And quick as a light being turned on, Katara turned back to her again and perked up. “Oh hey, Toph. You’re still here? Want to grab a glass and join me? I was going to make breakfast soon.”
Her arms dropping into her loose hoodie pockets-where they manically texted Aang and Sokka with a blunt, “GET HERE NOW” on her mobile-Toph tried to smile. It wavered about around the edges, and she shrugged.
“Oh, how about we stay out of the kitchen today,” -away from the knives and stove--, “and go grab brunch outside at one of those fancy places you like so much? My treat!”
“Oh… ok, sure…”
Then her face pinched, scrunching up, and Toph heard her retorting hotly, “No, you are not invited!”
The witch paled, just a little bit.
But Katara sounded pretty chipper as she stood-wobbly-and shut her laptop, packing it haphazardly into her bag.
“So, is this semi-formal? Oh, will this place have wi-fi? I’m waiting for an important e-mail.”
Toph wondered briefly just what kind of wavelength her best friend was currently running on…
(BR)
As Katara eyed the menu, Toph, Aang and Sokka convened around the corner near the bathrooms.
“Ok, what the Hell did she smoke?” Sokka growled, peeking over Toph’s head to where Suki was babysitting Katara, trying to convince her no, she didn’t need any vodka in her orange juice, it was too early for screwdrivers. (To which Katara jubilantly cried, “You’re right! Tequila Sunrise for the bright & early girl!”)
“I don’t know! I woke up and found her like this in the living room!”
Aang, though, observed the scene and noted the way Katara’s head quirked to the side every so often, her expressions changing, reacting to…
Suddenly he realised.
Another person.
She was listening to another person.
He closed his eyes and sighed.
“What?” demanded Sokka, very worried about his sister’s condition.
“Two things,” said the Guardian tiredly. “One, she needs to stop drinking-that’s just plain aversion to all the stress she’s been under.”
Remembering what he’d heard from Toph about how Katara had reacted when he’d abandoned her, years before, it was obvious to him. But the other part was still a hunch…
Toph and Sokka paused, reflecting, before making affirmative noises in the backs of their throats.
“And the second?”
“She really is talking to someone.”
“Yes, to Suki--,” began Sokka, but Aang shook his head.
“No, on the inside. Toph, can you lend me your ‘sight’ for a second?”
Snorting, Toph crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Use your own, mine’s expensive.”
“Toph.”
He waited a moment, glaring with displeasure at her.
Then, as if she could truly feel Aang’s disapproval, she relented.
“All right, all right….” She huffed, and took a wide-legged stance, putting her hands together for a moment. “Make it quick, this looks awkward in public,” she groused, and felt him place a finger on the sensitive spot between her eyes.
“Thanks,” he said, and she could hear the gratitude-and grin-in his voice. He closed his own eyes.
The dark-haired witch huffed and blew her loose bangs from her eyes.
It started like a slow stream of liquid leaking from a hole before it latched onto Aang’s finger and raced up his arm into his own third eye.
It was more powerful than he’d been expecting; he winced and swayed for a second. “Packs a punch,” he mumbled.
“Sorry, I forgot how much of a lightweight you are, Twinkle Toes.”
“Almost got a read on it,” he said, ignoring Toph’s jibe. “Aha. Gotcha,” he said, smiling.
“And!?” demanded Sokka, frustrated he didn’t have two sweet clues what was going on.
Aang was practically beaming. “Katara’s talking to her soulmate!”
“Her what?”
“Her soulmate,” repeated Aang as if it was the most wondrous, magical, best thing in the world, his grin brightening as he felt the intensity of the energy that was rippling off Katara. “Wow, I’ve never felt a bond that strong before. It must’ve been building for…”
Heart beating loudly in his chest, he realised exactly what it meant; and what it explained.
Toph nudged her head against his finger as his voice trailed off. “Oy.”
“Aang? What were you about to say?”
“… for centuries,” he finished, more quietly.
Sokka straightened and peeked over at his sister again.
“… so she really is this Yue person? From the legend?” he asked sadly. He’d held out hope, however tenuous, that somehow it wasn’t his baby sister who was supposed to save the world; who wasn’t really the one being hunted by demons; who was just his sister that he looked out for, protected, and wanted to help in any way he could, because that’s what overprotective big brothers did. But this? This was bigger than him. And he just didn’t know how to fight it. Sokka felt his pride wounded by the acceptance that he couldn’t defeat this danger; and that he’d have to let her fight her own battle. Literally. And this acceptance scared him.
Aang nodded, his hand drifting down from Toph’s forehead-she did not shiver when it accidentally trailed down her cheek, (obviously)-to rest against his side.
“Her chakra pools are deeper than mine or Toph’s,” he said, as if this explained everything. “Combined.”
The witch’s shoulders slumped and she took a deep breath to clear out the last of the chakra singeing that resonated in her skull from the transfer. A by-product of the exchange; and one of the reasons she was reluctant to share with others-not that she’d ever made public knowledge of that particular side-effect with anyone other than Jun. The risk was too great that it could be used against her.
Squaring her shoulders again, she tilted her head to the side to crack her neck loudly.
“It can only mean one thing; she’s a Spirit. Again,” she tacked on the ‘again’ as an afterthought.
“So that soulmate she’s talking to? Is that…”
Toph couldn’t help it, she grinned, baring her canine teeth. And just barely held back from grinding her boot into the eatery’s plush rug in frustration.
“One. Sneaky. Bastard.”
(BR)
Sometime that night, when she couldn’t sleep, Katara lay on her bed staring at the ceiling.
It had been a very strange day.
And her buzz was wearing off.
Oy, she called out to her companion.
Yes?
Why won’t you tell me your name?
You already know me.
She frowned. I can’t remember you. I can only see bits and pieces. It’s like specific things are missing. There are holes.
Maybe you tried hard to forget me, once.
Then why are you back again now?
Maybe I couldn’t forget about you.
That’s a pretty cheesy line. What’s next? ‘Is Heaven missing an angel?’ she giggled to herself.
Not Heaven, Earth, he corrected.
So do we know each other? Are you real?
Yes, and yes.
So how come I haven’t seen you yet? I feel like I should know you-you’re close, aren’t you? It felt like being in Ba Sing Se made me closer to you.
I wish we could be closer.
Ignoring the warmth in her cheeks-it had to be all the alcohol in her bloodstream-Katara closed her eyes and sighed. So what do I get to see in my dreams tonight? Are you choosing this time, or am I?
What would you like to see?
You, she declared firmly. I need to know who’s following me around all the time bothering me and stopping me from stabbing werewolves with the silverware.
It was a plastic knife! You would have done more damage to yourself than him!
Still. Spoilsport.
You may have cut yourself if it broke!
Katara felt eyelids becoming heavier, even as they were already closed, and her body relaxing under her comforter, in spite of the chastising her soulmate was giving her.
Hey, I think… I want to try and remember you, tonight, she said, yawning.
The voice paused in his ranting.
You?...
Show me something that will remind me of you. I want to know who I’m bound to. This is a lifetime deal, isn’t it? She asked, thought, wondered a bit sadly. Why can’t I remember you?...
On the other end of their bond, Zuko recognised the longing again in her tone, her loneliness, the true desire to connect to him again.
His heart beat a bit harder and he swallowed, considering what he could possibly show her that would jog her memory.
And it came to him a moment later, as his fingers reached into his coat pocket nearby, and pulled out a treasured memento.
All right. He took a deep breath. I’ll show you.
So try and remember me, Katara.
(BR)
"You are not as I expected," she whispered their second night together as she again lay atop him, their breath slowing in the warmth of her furs.
"Hmm?" he asked as the sound drew him from drowsy contentment. "What did you expect?"
She lay silent for a time, one hand idly stroking the curve of his shoulder. "My Gran said…" she started, then paused and continued. "In her youth, your kind attacked our tribe. We call it 'The Terror.' Gran is the only one left who remembers… she used to tell stories - warnings."
She again paused and He bent his head to nuzzle her temple, keeping his teeth carefully away from her skin this time. The gesture was affectionate, not meant to draw blood and instead a way to deepen a kiss between lovers - between mates - but he knew now was not the time. "What stories?" he asked instead.
She shifted to look at him, drawing her head back and meeting his eyes for a moment before dropping them, studying his skin under her fingers. "She spoke of demons with empty eyes who stalked the forests and the plains. Our tribe is of this land, we know its every shape, but your kind could move through it without ever leaving a track. We'd have no warning of your attacks, and we would find bodies slashed open and drained of blood in the mornings."
"It wasn't me," was all he could think to say, but she met his gaze, the memories of her tribe in the depths of her eyes.
"You are of your kind," she said simply, and he had no answer to that but held her eyes without challenge and eventually she sighed and dropped her head slightly.
"I wish I knew what that meant," she whispered. "You say you're not a demon but you're of Gran's legends." She moved her hand to cover his, stroke his fingers lightly. "You look human - a foreigner at least - but I saw your claws." She looked up at him again. "I felt your teeth."
This time He looked away, fighting to keep his hand relaxed in her grip, to not curl his fingers into his palm. "It is as you say," he said finally. "I am of my kind - a hunter, a predator. My kind stalks and preys -" he looked back at her, saw the conflict in her eyes " - but we don't always kill." He slid his claws out slowly then, the blunt human fingernails elongating into talons, thin and sharp and glinting pale in the dark. Her fingers remained laced with his, even as her eyes widened and he held his breath for her reaction but she remained motionless. He moved his thumb to gently stroke the back of her hand, brushing its callused pad and smooth claw against her skin.
"We are like your wolves, in a way," though he hated that comparison, "we take what we need to survive. But we are also like you." She looked up at him then and he dared tighten his fingers around hers, curl them so that the tips of his claws met her knuckles as she shivered. "Some of us take more than we need."
He prayed she wouldn't ask further, wouldn't ask what he had taken; he feared his answer, feared her reaction, the bond still so fragile between them even as it pulsed deeper every day. She finally nodded and dropped her eyes to his fingers still entwined in hers and he drew a deep breath before he moved his other hand to stroke her hair, move his claws delicately over her scalp, her neck.
"You did need me," she finally whispered, surprising him. "And you took only what you needed, that time."
He nodded stupidly, even as she didn't look up, and he cupped her jaw in his hand so that his claws rested on her cheek. "I would never hurt you," he whispered, and realized suddenly that it had become true. His innards lurched but her eyes held him, drew him from the confusion and into her and he stroked the skin of her cheek gently. I won't, he promised, I won't ever hurt you.
(BR)
Katara’s breathing slowed at the images, the feelings, the memories he evoked.
That was me, she whispered internally.
Yes. You’ve always been beautiful.
And you. You’re there, too. But it’s so foggy! I can’t see you properly, but I know it is you. I can feel it is you.
Her frustration, her earnest desire to remember him, spurred him on to share more with her.
Are you ready for more?
Yes! Damnit! And one where I say your name!
… then please remember this…
(BR)
Another time…
***
"Do you…" she whispered into the dark as he explored her body again with his lips, scraping his teeth lightly across her skin as she shivered.
"What?" He asked, looking at her for a moment, her eyes vivid despite the dark.
"Do you… want to taste me?" she asked, her voice sounding small and he froze, his pulse pounding in his ears. "I can feel… that you want to."
"Always," he whispered brokenly, not daring to move except to grip her tighter. "Always." Guilt rose in him as he remembered all the times he had tasted her, in the depths of night, in the dawn's chill, feeding on her when she couldn't remember, couldn't resist; it clawed at him as he remembered the taste sliding across his tongue that very morning.
"You can," she whispered, and the trust in her eyes burned.
"Are you sure?" he asked "I don't -"
"I know you want to," she said, raising her hand to stroke his cheek and the touch, too, burned. He lay his forehead on her smooth stomach and tried to control his breathing, tried to control the lust that rose in him, even as her words broke him. "I want you to."
When he could trust himself again, he nodded against her skin, feeling her muscles clench and ripple, the blood coursing too thin and too deep there among her sleek planes. "Yes," he whispered, and raised his head to look at her.
Her eyes held fear but also curiosity and beside it that trust that gnawed at him, but she nodded and smiled and tipped her head slightly. The lust rose in him again at the sight of her throat willingly offered to him, the sincerity throbbing to him along their bond, and he slid up her to cup her cheek in his hand. He rested his forehead against hers and felt her close her eyes and they lay together for a long moment, her heartbeat drowning his senses.
He kissed her temple gently, then scraped his teeth along her skin, letting his fangs elongate with his need, glide along her cheek as he dropped his hand to caress her shoulders and she shivered, turned her head into his lips. He kissed her deeply, warmly, tongue sliding along hers and coaxing her to feel his fangs, the way they changed the shape of his mouth, and he almost bit into her there before he broke the kiss and moved along her jawline to her throat. His hands were busy, stroking and teasing and she slid her fingers into his hair, clung to him as her breath came faster and she tipped her head back.
He closed his eyes again to subdue the lust, then kissed the thin skin just over her pulse, slid his teeth along it, licked gently at the spot as she quaked. "Zuko," she whispered, tugging at his hair, and he spread his jaws to nip gently at her.
Her skin parted easily as she gasped, the tiniest of gashes but he watched blood well up from it, lifted his head and met her eyes for a moment before bending to lap at it. She shivered under his tongue, then cried out and he poured all of his being into this moment, her body beneath his teeth and his hands as he suckled and stroked and tried not to tear into her, devour her and own her like he soon would.
He nipped her again as she climaxed, gasping and panting and clutching at him and he drew it out as long as he could, teeth and tongue and hands and mind working together for her, for this woman whose soul called to his even this close to him.
He continued to lap gently at her neck as her breathing slowed and soon the punctures sealed over and he savored the last of her blood as she pulled him up for a gentle kiss. He smiled softly at her and gathered her into his arms and lay his head in the crook of her shoulder. She sighed deeply with him and soon she slept, but Zuko remained awake all through that night and the dawn's gray, thinking and hoping and regretting.
(BR)
Katara lay stock-still in bed, now wide awake.
Katara? She heard-felt him ask, concerned at her lack of response.
She ignored him.
She was still shaking.
It couldn’t be true.
Katara? Are you ok? Do you remember me now?
Oh, yes, she did.
It was slamming into her with the force of a storm-stirred tide, the images and memories and feelings throwing her entire world view for a loop.
Her time in the Tribes, a century before. His offerings, his wounds, his ministrations, his claws, teeth, her heartrate sped up as she remembered his mouth-
Her time at work and school, sharing an office, arguing, fighting, him chasing after her after she left the club-was lured from the club, she now realized, by something…--her visit to her apartment with him and Suki, her mind was whirling madly as more memories filtered through again-
--and, suddenly she gasped, the explosion!-
Then… things became muddled.
So very, very muddled.
Katara was left reeling, gasping, her fingers gripping her night shirt as she tried to calm herself.
It was too much.
Far too much.
Why hadn’t she remembered this before?
Where was the deluge coming from?
Katara could hear and feel Zuko’s agitation at her continued lack of reply, but struggled as the rest surfaced and sank in her mind’s eye, images, feelings, bobbing up for her to catch a glimpse only for them to sink again before she could grasp the meaning behind them.
Katara?
Katara!
Katara!
She shook her head and winced-hangover, right.
You drank too much, he huffed.
It was celebratory, she argued.
What could you have been celebrating so vigorously that you wouldn’t share with even your closest friends?!
Feeling her patience snap under the stress, Katara grit her teeth and mentally yelled at him.
My stupid period came, you jerk!
…
Uh…
That’s a good thing, she snarled menacingly.
Of course, uh, yeah! Yay… uh… periods... ?
And though he tried to keep it to himself, Zuko was worried Katara may have heard him mumbling about her crazy mood swings not having changed a bit in the past 15 decades.
(BR)
Back to the beginning again
When Katara woke the next morning-still huddled awkwardly on the couch, having fallen asleep at her keyboard during her exhaustive research the night before-it was to the bubbling excitement that fizzed inside her.
From the bond.
Muttering swears under her breath, she looked around blearily before collapsing again.
An early riser, are we?
You never really cared for early mornings unless I woke you, the voice greeted her cheerily-and Katara didn’t miss the underlying hints about just how he did so, the warmth subconsciously flooding her cheeks.
But she was confused. And not just from her broken sleep.
We just ‘met’ at my accident, though, didn’t we?
But even as she thought it, she realised it wasn’t true-flashes of images, memories?, burst onto her mind’s eye: children sliding down an ice slide into a lake in summer; the feel of a pelt-skirt wrapped and bunched around her waist as she waded into a pond; waking to find a beautiful necklace around her throat-
She started.
What… when…
Those are your memories, he informed her; she felt her breathing hitching as it had the night before when he’d first spoken the word, ‘soulmates’.
But this looks-feels-too… too…
Katara stumbled over her words, trying to find one that fit the way the scenes affected her.
He was patient as she stuttered through her confusion.
Old, she finally decided, for lack of a better word.
Genuine, he corrected. It was a long time ago.
How long?
Katara felt his reluctance to indulge her curiosity, and tried not to prod him too much.
A hundred and fifty years ago, he finally replied. That’s when we first met.
She felt her mouth go dry.
Who and the what now?!
(BR)
Toph walked into her living room that afternoon to find Katara furiously typing on her laptop, completely focused, and occasionally muttering under her breath.
Her… pungent... breath.
Sniffing subtly and turning away from her temporary roommate, Toph put her hands on her hips and approached warily.
“So, Katara… I see you found the whiskey,” her foot tapped against something hard and round that shifted beneath her, “and the wine.”
“Yeah, so,” Katara retorted, and then-to Toph’s surprise-she seemed to look upwards and snap, “and you shut up! You… you…” her words receded into crazed mumblings again.
Toph’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline.
“Is everything ok over there?”
“Just fine, I said. Weren’t you listening?... No, not you… I am talking to TOPH. Go away!”
Toph blinked slowly and closed her eyes, giving a subtle tap to the carpet. Had she missed something?
No, no one else was in the room…
“Are you working on something?” she asked cautiously, mentally scanning the room for anything that may have triggered Katara to drink herself into such a state. A social drink at the club was one thing-but this was Katara, Katara!, completely sloshed. And talking to herself.
Aloud.
“School. History. My paper.”
Then Katara snorted, and seemed to reply to the ‘other’ presence again, “No, no more help from you. I don’t want any more of your ‘personal experience’ about my so-called past life, thank you… No, I’m not, I’m just saying that I need to back this up with research! … I never said that! Spirits, why are you still arguing with me! I never said I didn’t believe you!... Ok, you know what, fine. Why don’t you just write up the whole frikkin’ story and e-mail it to me then? Ok? Fine, good, whatever. I’m getting more to drink.”
Toph blinked again.
And heard a bottle glug-glugging as someone took wild, slinging swallows.
And quick as a light being turned on, Katara turned back to her again and perked up. “Oh hey, Toph. You’re still here? Want to grab a glass and join me? I was going to make breakfast soon.”
Her arms dropping into her loose hoodie pockets-where they manically texted Aang and Sokka with a blunt, “GET HERE NOW” on her mobile-Toph tried to smile. It wavered about around the edges, and she shrugged.
“Oh, how about we stay out of the kitchen today,” -away from the knives and stove--, “and go grab brunch outside at one of those fancy places you like so much? My treat!”
“Oh… ok, sure…”
Then her face pinched, scrunching up, and Toph heard her retorting hotly, “No, you are not invited!”
The witch paled, just a little bit.
But Katara sounded pretty chipper as she stood-wobbly-and shut her laptop, packing it haphazardly into her bag.
“So, is this semi-formal? Oh, will this place have wi-fi? I’m waiting for an important e-mail.”
Toph wondered briefly just what kind of wavelength her best friend was currently running on…
(BR)
As Katara eyed the menu, Toph, Aang and Sokka convened around the corner near the bathrooms.
“Ok, what the Hell did she smoke?” Sokka growled, peeking over Toph’s head to where Suki was babysitting Katara, trying to convince her no, she didn’t need any vodka in her orange juice, it was too early for screwdrivers. (To which Katara jubilantly cried, “You’re right! Tequila Sunrise for the bright & early girl!”)
“I don’t know! I woke up and found her like this in the living room!”
Aang, though, observed the scene and noted the way Katara’s head quirked to the side every so often, her expressions changing, reacting to…
Suddenly he realised.
Another person.
She was listening to another person.
He closed his eyes and sighed.
“What?” demanded Sokka, very worried about his sister’s condition.
“Two things,” said the Guardian tiredly. “One, she needs to stop drinking-that’s just plain aversion to all the stress she’s been under.”
Remembering what he’d heard from Toph about how Katara had reacted when he’d abandoned her, years before, it was obvious to him. But the other part was still a hunch…
Toph and Sokka paused, reflecting, before making affirmative noises in the backs of their throats.
“And the second?”
“She really is talking to someone.”
“Yes, to Suki--,” began Sokka, but Aang shook his head.
“No, on the inside. Toph, can you lend me your ‘sight’ for a second?”
Snorting, Toph crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Use your own, mine’s expensive.”
“Toph.”
He waited a moment, glaring with displeasure at her.
Then, as if she could truly feel Aang’s disapproval, she relented.
“All right, all right….” She huffed, and took a wide-legged stance, putting her hands together for a moment. “Make it quick, this looks awkward in public,” she groused, and felt him place a finger on the sensitive spot between her eyes.
“Thanks,” he said, and she could hear the gratitude-and grin-in his voice. He closed his own eyes.
The dark-haired witch huffed and blew her loose bangs from her eyes.
It started like a slow stream of liquid leaking from a hole before it latched onto Aang’s finger and raced up his arm into his own third eye.
It was more powerful than he’d been expecting; he winced and swayed for a second. “Packs a punch,” he mumbled.
“Sorry, I forgot how much of a lightweight you are, Twinkle Toes.”
“Almost got a read on it,” he said, ignoring Toph’s jibe. “Aha. Gotcha,” he said, smiling.
“And!?” demanded Sokka, frustrated he didn’t have two sweet clues what was going on.
Aang was practically beaming. “Katara’s talking to her soulmate!”
“Her what?”
“Her soulmate,” repeated Aang as if it was the most wondrous, magical, best thing in the world, his grin brightening as he felt the intensity of the energy that was rippling off Katara. “Wow, I’ve never felt a bond that strong before. It must’ve been building for…”
Heart beating loudly in his chest, he realised exactly what it meant; and what it explained.
Toph nudged her head against his finger as his voice trailed off. “Oy.”
“Aang? What were you about to say?”
“… for centuries,” he finished, more quietly.
Sokka straightened and peeked over at his sister again.
“… so she really is this Yue person? From the legend?” he asked sadly. He’d held out hope, however tenuous, that somehow it wasn’t his baby sister who was supposed to save the world; who wasn’t really the one being hunted by demons; who was just his sister that he looked out for, protected, and wanted to help in any way he could, because that’s what overprotective big brothers did. But this? This was bigger than him. And he just didn’t know how to fight it. Sokka felt his pride wounded by the acceptance that he couldn’t defeat this danger; and that he’d have to let her fight her own battle. Literally. And this acceptance scared him.
Aang nodded, his hand drifting down from Toph’s forehead-she did not shiver when it accidentally trailed down her cheek, (obviously)-to rest against his side.
“Her chakra pools are deeper than mine or Toph’s,” he said, as if this explained everything. “Combined.”
The witch’s shoulders slumped and she took a deep breath to clear out the last of the chakra singeing that resonated in her skull from the transfer. A by-product of the exchange; and one of the reasons she was reluctant to share with others-not that she’d ever made public knowledge of that particular side-effect with anyone other than Jun. The risk was too great that it could be used against her.
Squaring her shoulders again, she tilted her head to the side to crack her neck loudly.
“It can only mean one thing; she’s a Spirit. Again,” she tacked on the ‘again’ as an afterthought.
“So that soulmate she’s talking to? Is that…”
Toph couldn’t help it, she grinned, baring her canine teeth. And just barely held back from grinding her boot into the eatery’s plush rug in frustration.
“One. Sneaky. Bastard.”
(BR)
Sometime that night, when she couldn’t sleep, Katara lay on her bed staring at the ceiling.
It had been a very strange day.
And her buzz was wearing off.
Oy, she called out to her companion.
Yes?
Why won’t you tell me your name?
You already know me.
She frowned. I can’t remember you. I can only see bits and pieces. It’s like specific things are missing. There are holes.
Maybe you tried hard to forget me, once.
Then why are you back again now?
Maybe I couldn’t forget about you.
That’s a pretty cheesy line. What’s next? ‘Is Heaven missing an angel?’ she giggled to herself.
Not Heaven, Earth, he corrected.
So do we know each other? Are you real?
Yes, and yes.
So how come I haven’t seen you yet? I feel like I should know you-you’re close, aren’t you? It felt like being in Ba Sing Se made me closer to you.
I wish we could be closer.
Ignoring the warmth in her cheeks-it had to be all the alcohol in her bloodstream-Katara closed her eyes and sighed. So what do I get to see in my dreams tonight? Are you choosing this time, or am I?
What would you like to see?
You, she declared firmly. I need to know who’s following me around all the time bothering me and stopping me from stabbing werewolves with the silverware.
It was a plastic knife! You would have done more damage to yourself than him!
Still. Spoilsport.
You may have cut yourself if it broke!
Katara felt eyelids becoming heavier, even as they were already closed, and her body relaxing under her comforter, in spite of the chastising her soulmate was giving her.
Hey, I think… I want to try and remember you, tonight, she said, yawning.
The voice paused in his ranting.
You?...
Show me something that will remind me of you. I want to know who I’m bound to. This is a lifetime deal, isn’t it? She asked, thought, wondered a bit sadly. Why can’t I remember you?...
On the other end of their bond, Zuko recognised the longing again in her tone, her loneliness, the true desire to connect to him again.
His heart beat a bit harder and he swallowed, considering what he could possibly show her that would jog her memory.
And it came to him a moment later, as his fingers reached into his coat pocket nearby, and pulled out a treasured memento.
All right. He took a deep breath. I’ll show you.
So try and remember me, Katara.
(BR)
"You are not as I expected," she whispered their second night together as she again lay atop him, their breath slowing in the warmth of her furs.
"Hmm?" he asked as the sound drew him from drowsy contentment. "What did you expect?"
She lay silent for a time, one hand idly stroking the curve of his shoulder. "My Gran said…" she started, then paused and continued. "In her youth, your kind attacked our tribe. We call it 'The Terror.' Gran is the only one left who remembers… she used to tell stories - warnings."
She again paused and He bent his head to nuzzle her temple, keeping his teeth carefully away from her skin this time. The gesture was affectionate, not meant to draw blood and instead a way to deepen a kiss between lovers - between mates - but he knew now was not the time. "What stories?" he asked instead.
She shifted to look at him, drawing her head back and meeting his eyes for a moment before dropping them, studying his skin under her fingers. "She spoke of demons with empty eyes who stalked the forests and the plains. Our tribe is of this land, we know its every shape, but your kind could move through it without ever leaving a track. We'd have no warning of your attacks, and we would find bodies slashed open and drained of blood in the mornings."
"It wasn't me," was all he could think to say, but she met his gaze, the memories of her tribe in the depths of her eyes.
"You are of your kind," she said simply, and he had no answer to that but held her eyes without challenge and eventually she sighed and dropped her head slightly.
"I wish I knew what that meant," she whispered. "You say you're not a demon but you're of Gran's legends." She moved her hand to cover his, stroke his fingers lightly. "You look human - a foreigner at least - but I saw your claws." She looked up at him again. "I felt your teeth."
This time He looked away, fighting to keep his hand relaxed in her grip, to not curl his fingers into his palm. "It is as you say," he said finally. "I am of my kind - a hunter, a predator. My kind stalks and preys -" he looked back at her, saw the conflict in her eyes " - but we don't always kill." He slid his claws out slowly then, the blunt human fingernails elongating into talons, thin and sharp and glinting pale in the dark. Her fingers remained laced with his, even as her eyes widened and he held his breath for her reaction but she remained motionless. He moved his thumb to gently stroke the back of her hand, brushing its callused pad and smooth claw against her skin.
"We are like your wolves, in a way," though he hated that comparison, "we take what we need to survive. But we are also like you." She looked up at him then and he dared tighten his fingers around hers, curl them so that the tips of his claws met her knuckles as she shivered. "Some of us take more than we need."
He prayed she wouldn't ask further, wouldn't ask what he had taken; he feared his answer, feared her reaction, the bond still so fragile between them even as it pulsed deeper every day. She finally nodded and dropped her eyes to his fingers still entwined in hers and he drew a deep breath before he moved his other hand to stroke her hair, move his claws delicately over her scalp, her neck.
"You did need me," she finally whispered, surprising him. "And you took only what you needed, that time."
He nodded stupidly, even as she didn't look up, and he cupped her jaw in his hand so that his claws rested on her cheek. "I would never hurt you," he whispered, and realized suddenly that it had become true. His innards lurched but her eyes held him, drew him from the confusion and into her and he stroked the skin of her cheek gently. I won't, he promised, I won't ever hurt you.
(BR)
Katara’s breathing slowed at the images, the feelings, the memories he evoked.
That was me, she whispered internally.
Yes. You’ve always been beautiful.
And you. You’re there, too. But it’s so foggy! I can’t see you properly, but I know it is you. I can feel it is you.
Her frustration, her earnest desire to remember him, spurred him on to share more with her.
Are you ready for more?
Yes! Damnit! And one where I say your name!
… then please remember this…
(BR)
Another time…
***
"Do you…" she whispered into the dark as he explored her body again with his lips, scraping his teeth lightly across her skin as she shivered.
"What?" He asked, looking at her for a moment, her eyes vivid despite the dark.
"Do you… want to taste me?" she asked, her voice sounding small and he froze, his pulse pounding in his ears. "I can feel… that you want to."
"Always," he whispered brokenly, not daring to move except to grip her tighter. "Always." Guilt rose in him as he remembered all the times he had tasted her, in the depths of night, in the dawn's chill, feeding on her when she couldn't remember, couldn't resist; it clawed at him as he remembered the taste sliding across his tongue that very morning.
"You can," she whispered, and the trust in her eyes burned.
"Are you sure?" he asked "I don't -"
"I know you want to," she said, raising her hand to stroke his cheek and the touch, too, burned. He lay his forehead on her smooth stomach and tried to control his breathing, tried to control the lust that rose in him, even as her words broke him. "I want you to."
When he could trust himself again, he nodded against her skin, feeling her muscles clench and ripple, the blood coursing too thin and too deep there among her sleek planes. "Yes," he whispered, and raised his head to look at her.
Her eyes held fear but also curiosity and beside it that trust that gnawed at him, but she nodded and smiled and tipped her head slightly. The lust rose in him again at the sight of her throat willingly offered to him, the sincerity throbbing to him along their bond, and he slid up her to cup her cheek in his hand. He rested his forehead against hers and felt her close her eyes and they lay together for a long moment, her heartbeat drowning his senses.
He kissed her temple gently, then scraped his teeth along her skin, letting his fangs elongate with his need, glide along her cheek as he dropped his hand to caress her shoulders and she shivered, turned her head into his lips. He kissed her deeply, warmly, tongue sliding along hers and coaxing her to feel his fangs, the way they changed the shape of his mouth, and he almost bit into her there before he broke the kiss and moved along her jawline to her throat. His hands were busy, stroking and teasing and she slid her fingers into his hair, clung to him as her breath came faster and she tipped her head back.
He closed his eyes again to subdue the lust, then kissed the thin skin just over her pulse, slid his teeth along it, licked gently at the spot as she quaked. "Zuko," she whispered, tugging at his hair, and he spread his jaws to nip gently at her.
Her skin parted easily as she gasped, the tiniest of gashes but he watched blood well up from it, lifted his head and met her eyes for a moment before bending to lap at it. She shivered under his tongue, then cried out and he poured all of his being into this moment, her body beneath his teeth and his hands as he suckled and stroked and tried not to tear into her, devour her and own her like he soon would.
He nipped her again as she climaxed, gasping and panting and clutching at him and he drew it out as long as he could, teeth and tongue and hands and mind working together for her, for this woman whose soul called to his even this close to him.
He continued to lap gently at her neck as her breathing slowed and soon the punctures sealed over and he savored the last of her blood as she pulled him up for a gentle kiss. He smiled softly at her and gathered her into his arms and lay his head in the crook of her shoulder. She sighed deeply with him and soon she slept, but Zuko remained awake all through that night and the dawn's gray, thinking and hoping and regretting.
(BR)
Katara lay stock-still in bed, now wide awake.
Katara? She heard-felt him ask, concerned at her lack of response.
She ignored him.
She was still shaking.
It couldn’t be true.
Katara? Are you ok? Do you remember me now?
Oh, yes, she did.
It was slamming into her with the force of a storm-stirred tide, the images and memories and feelings throwing her entire world view for a loop.
Her time in the Tribes, a century before. His offerings, his wounds, his ministrations, his claws, teeth, her heartrate sped up as she remembered his mouth-
Her time at work and school, sharing an office, arguing, fighting, him chasing after her after she left the club-was lured from the club, she now realized, by something…--her visit to her apartment with him and Suki, her mind was whirling madly as more memories filtered through again-
--and, suddenly she gasped, the explosion!-
Then… things became muddled.
So very, very muddled.
Katara was left reeling, gasping, her fingers gripping her night shirt as she tried to calm herself.
It was too much.
Far too much.
Why hadn’t she remembered this before?
Where was the deluge coming from?
Katara could hear and feel Zuko’s agitation at her continued lack of reply, but struggled as the rest surfaced and sank in her mind’s eye, images, feelings, bobbing up for her to catch a glimpse only for them to sink again before she could grasp the meaning behind them.
Katara?
Katara!
Katara!
She shook her head and winced-hangover, right.
You drank too much, he huffed.
It was celebratory, she argued.
What could you have been celebrating so vigorously that you wouldn’t share with even your closest friends?!
Feeling her patience snap under the stress, Katara grit her teeth and mentally yelled at him.
My stupid period came, you jerk!
…
Uh…
That’s a good thing, she snarled menacingly.
Of course, uh, yeah! Yay… uh… periods... ?
And though he tried to keep it to himself, Zuko was worried Katara may have heard him mumbling about her crazy mood swings not having changed a bit in the past 15 decades.
(BR)