oneshotssss!
TWO ONESHOTS. ENJOY. :)
Title: Another Tortured Heart
Rating: pg
Character/Pairings: Katara/Zuko, Mai/Zuko
Word Count: 878
Summary: "You don't deserve Zuko." Someone had to say it. Someone had to be the strong one.
I'd like to see how you interpret this one.
.x.
If she said anything just yet, it might have swallowed her alive.
So she doesn't-just because she can't. Locked in her throat, the words clumsily knotted and twisted around her heart. Without speaking, she grabbed the other girl by the arm and nodded to the door so they could talk alone. In the empty hallway she controlled her raggedy breath, but she barely believed it. Barely believed herself.
"You don't deserve Zuko."
When she let go of Mai's arm, she didn't have to look to know her fingers were reaching for her sleeves, her eyes narrowing and blood running cold. No, she felt it, knew it, dreamed it. But the raven haired girl stopped short when she saw the waterbender stand still, unflinching. Blue eyes drowned in honesty, intense and true.
"No one does," Katara whispered, "Nobody in the whole world."
As the words found their way out, her confidence grew. They crawled out, and she felt so painfully empty after they left. "You see, there is nobody like Zuko. He used to be nothing. B-But, he's fought for where he is now. And he still is. No, Zuko doesn't give up. He's not a winner. He's a fighter."
Katara breathed-"But you know the biggest thing about him?"-and felt herself slightly smile.
Her body choked on the memories, but she didn't show it. She could only think of her secrets. No one will know about their trip that glinted like a knife, a mission for vengeance, and how Zuko never left her side. He didn't stand in front, not in the back, just right beside her. He didn't have to speak the words she couldn't, he didn't have to touch the man she didn't want to, and he didn't have to care so much.
But he did.
"He has a big heart."
And he can run faster than lightning, she remembers. He let lightning pierce his body, bruise and batter him. He has a scar on his chest because of her. He ached for her, she knows. Katara wanted to tell her this, wanted to show the world, but that's something that will never happen.
"Zuko cares. He really, and truly, cares. Probably more than he should. When he cares about someone, he will fight and bleed and do whatever it takes without a second thought. I don't think he ever thinks things through, but that's because his heart does everything first."
"I know."
Snapping her head up, Katara narrowed her eyes and curled her fist. Stepping forward, she jabbed her breaths and words.
"No, you don't. You really don't."
Her words bruised Mai. Beat her.
"Like I said, you don't deserve him. Maybe you're worthy enough to be with him, but I don't think you're worthy enough to say you really love him. If you loved him, you would never leave him. If you loved him, you would try and try and try to understand him, even if you never will. If you loved him, you'd know."
Like a bloody slap to the face.
"You'd know that someone like Zuko doesn't deserve to be hurt. Ever. You can hurt other people, for Spirit's sake, I don't care if you hurt me, but you don't to him."
Battered and broke.
"Mai, I'm telling you, if you love him, don't hurt him. Love him like someone you could never be with. Love him, talk to him, believe in him. He doesn't deserve less. So if you want to be with him...you better want it. I'm telling you...I'm telling you because Zuko needs this. But you need to know, too."
She paused, stepping closer, as if to clean the blood from her fists.
"Walk in that room and fall in love with that man, not the one you think he is, and I'll promise you'll never stop."
Mai nodded, eyes blinking behind a curtain of black bangs. Slowly, Katara laid a hand on her shoulder, smiling for her own sake
"He's in there, the door to the left. I think he may need some help with his bandages and robes. I...I think he needs you."
The knife girl gave a nod, a silent thanks, still thinking, still absorbing.
"Go," she ordered Mai hoarsely, her lips smiling, but hands shaking violently.
.x.
Don't cry, Katara. Don't cry.
But she does, even if the war is over and his coronation will be soon. With her back against the wall and her knees curled to her chest, the red and gold of the palace blurred. She hates it, hates her heart that is all tied up and hurting, hates herself for not being strong enough to break through it, and hates how this isn't fair. Everything she said was true, and that hurt the most.
This was for him. He gave her something priceless--his life--and she simply needed to repay him. So she had to give him the best. This is the only thing she had to give. (She wished she had more. But there was another boy who took most of it.) Someone had to say it.
Someone had to be the strong one.
Her heart needed to know that he'll be okay.
(Zuko deserved to be happy, he really does.)
Even if she won't be.
.x.x.x.x.x.
Title: Not Strong Enough
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,073
Time: takes place directly after the Southern Raiders, but before Ember Island Players.
Summary: In all honesty, she knew, she wouldn't have been strong enough unless he had been there.
She knew if she spoke, the words might fall into the ocean below them.
Zuko knew, too.
So she doesn’t. From behind the reigns on Appa’s head, her eyes are heavy and her mind is gone, somewhere else. With a beaten heart, abused from all the emotions and all the confusion, she tightens her grip until her knuckles are white and she knows it’s still there. Something stirs from behind-and at that moment, she wants to hate him. He brings the memory back. His presence makes her remember the man is still alive and her mother is not until she can feel it. It’s in her stomach, in her hair, between her fingers, behind her head, everywhere.
He takes his time.
“I almost did it,” he is quiet and sitting next to her now, “I almost killed him myself-for you.”
Katara doesn’t say anything, barely acknowledging him. Slowly, he reached for the reigns, just so she can rest. She needs it. Instead, he feels familiar fingers wrapping and lacing around his arm, nails and bottled up anger digging into his forearm.
Zuko didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He let her hold on tight, her small frame exhausted and completely miserable. It was like she was falling, desperate and lost, her body flung into the air until her bones cracked and her screams were swallowed down. So he let her hold on, one hand on the reigns, the other clung to his arm, tight and locked.
She needs this.
(She is strong, she is breaking-he is there.)
.x.
Spirits, she was sick of hating.
Yet, it still came and came. That night, on her bed, she hated again. She hated the sleep that didn’t come, the dreams that never happened, she hated a man and not a boy, herself-she hated it all. Kicking her sleeping bag, she clumsily punched her pillow, curls of hair messily spilling around.
They had returned from their mission. She forgave him. She had hugged him!
For that, he shouldn’t be in her thoughts. Not tonight. Not anymore. This shouldn’t be yet another tally, another mark for the long list of countless, sleepless nights where he would invade her mind and not leave. He had a habit of doing that. Tucking her legs up, she shut her eyes and tried to forget.
But, she still wondered, would he be waiting outside her tent all night long again and tonight?
.x.
In between the sudden shock that there was a body flying at her-Zuko, of all people-and rocks crumbling from the ceiling, the first thing she had noticed was she hadn’t felt the ground once. What she had felt was a warm body underneath her, the shock of the collision softened by locked hands around her waist.
A sane person might have screamed, might have noticed that rocks were flying and a battle was outside the temple, or even a somewhat sane person might have not noticed anything at all.
And of course, as she lay in bed and remembered this, Katara knew she was not this sane person.
No, Katara clearly remembered one detail as they rolled and tumbled away from her death-his breath. She could remember how his face had buried itself in the nook of her neck and her hair, his breath hot and rushed, tingling down her skin. He took each and every blow of the fall.
His cheek had grazed hers.
Then he was on top of her, bodies and skin and clothes mashed together, and oh how the spirits hated her, his leg was in between hers, his hand warm and uncomfortable under her chest. She’s never been this close to someone-not in this position that is.
Katara brought the pillow to her face and tried to muffle the memory out.
.x.
Katara hadn’t slept properly for the last three nights, and she blames Zuko.
Sitting up in frustration, she rubbed her eyes and sighed to the night that didn’t pass fast enough. With one hand, nimble and delicate, she ran her empty fingers into the deep lines carved in her mother’s necklace. Looking left, looking right, she can see discarded pieces to her black outfit she wore earlier.
They had used Toph’s gambling money to buy the outfits.
With Zuko, she had so many secrets. Like sweet little candies, bitter and tart, they could fill her pocket. She imagines herself one day, old and knowing, able to take out one of those candies to share with some curious (or foolish) soul. Just slip her hand into her pocket, neatly reaching in and picking out the little candy. She would take it, roll it into the palm of their hand, whispering and letting go.
But, with Zuko, she knew this wouldn’t happen.
Who was she tell the others about her mission with Zuko? She would just have to clumsily hold it all down. About how he had stayed up all night for her, how he always stood next to her, picked her up by the waist to help her into the air vents so they could find their information, looked a murderer in the eye just for her, cared, and how he didn’t give up (even if she was ready to).
In all honesty, she knew, she wouldn’t have been strong enough unless he had been there.
The thought terrifies her and she just can’t explain it.
.x.
“Zuko?”
This time, when she steps out of her tent, the only difference than before is that it’s the middle of the night. He’s there, sitting on a rock, head tucked and shoulders sagging. “Y-You still look awful,” she concluded, this time her lips tugging up in pity and an awkward smile, “What are you doing?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he answered, rubbing his eyes, “What about you?” Something moved her feet, and she found herself sitting down next to him. “Me either.”
Softly, he turned his head, asking with the tremble of his eyes and the fall of his smile.
Because of..?
“No,” Katara locked her fingers around her knees, “Because of…you.” The waterbender paused. “Why did you do it? Why did do all that for me, even after how I treated you?”
His answer was a hand to her back, so warm and safe.
“Why did you offer to heal my scar?”
She leaned into his hand, and he held her up.
(This is why she forgave, she remembers.)