Avatar: The Fire of a Thousand Suns - Zuko/Aang (4/5)
Title: The Fire of a Thousand Suns
Pairings: Zuko/Aang, Aang/Katara, Tenzin/Lin Bei Fong
Disclaimer: This story is based on the universe of Avatar: The Last Airbender and Legend of Korra, their characters, and their situations, none of which I own.
Summary: In the seventy years between the end of the Hundred Year War and the Equalist Revolution, the United Republic of Nations is formed, Republic City is founded, and love blooms between Avatar Aang and Fire Lord Zuko.
Chapter Rating: PG
Chapter Word Count: 3,500
Chapter Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Interlude | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5
Read on AO3
22 years ago, ASC 116
Dinner at the Fire Nation Palace was never anything short of a feast. Aang devoured his vegetable stew, salad, and plain noodles with delight, barely pausing to thank Zuko between shoveling food into his mouth, chewing, and swallowing.
Zuko watched on in amusement as he demolished plate after plate, though his smile did not reach his eyes. Aang’s visit to the Fire Nation this time around had been for neither a joyous occasion nor a much-needed respite. He was here to pay respects to the recently deceased Iroh, who had died peacefully in his bed with a proverb about life and death on his lips.
Sokka and Toph were scheduled to arrive early tomorrow. Katara had fallen ill a few days before she and Aang were to leave, and he had almost canceled the trip before she had demanded that he go without her.
“I’ll be fine with some rest, Aang. You know how stressful it’s been lately with the Northern Water Tribe’s nonsense. Iroh was a good man and a good friend. He deserves our respects. You’ll say something nice for me, won’t you?”
After some pushing, Aang had conceded, leaving the United Republic for the Fire Nation capital. Although he hated leaving Katara behind when she wasn’t feeling well, he had to admit that he was looking forward to getting away for a little bit. Even if it was for a grim occasion. Geopolitical politics had taken a turn for the worse over the past year, and he was tired of everyone looking to him for answers when it came to even the pettiest disputes. He was the Avatar, not a miracleworker.
But spending time with his best friend always lifted his spirits. Already, he felt much better, shifting his focus from his exhaustion and bone-deep weariness to the task of comforting his forlorn friend. Zuko was struggling to bury his grief and failing desperately at it. Aang read every forced neutral expression and too-polite utterance as clearly as he would have if Zuko’s face had been streaming with tears.
After dinner - during which Zuko had barely even touched his plate - Zuko excused himself quickly and quietly. Aang watched him leave, sympathy clogging up his throat. When he had visited in the past, Zuko had been so eager to spend time with him that they had hardly ever left each other’s sides. That he was seeking solitude now was worrying. But Aang respected his unspoken wish to be alone and retreated to his chambers.
After an hour of alternating between pacing, composing a letter to Katara, and trying to read the book he had brought along, Aang decided that Zuko had had enough time alone and that it was time to see if he could do anything at all to ease his pain.
“Hey,” Aang said. “How are you feeling?”
Zuko was quiet. The courtyard was cold, and Aang wished he had thought to bring his coat. He sat down beside his friend on the ornate stone bench, tucking his freezing fingers into the space between his thighs. Solemn and still, Zuko continued staring into the distance, seemingly unfazed by the stinging winter air. His eyes flickered over to Aang briefly as the younger man shifted closer, shivering slightly. Zuko made an aborted gesture, as if he had been about to wrap an arm around Aang but decided against it.
“Empty,” he said. “Cold.”
Aang knew that he wasn’t talking about the weather.
“I’m here,” he said.
“Yes,” Zuko said after a moment. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Warmth bloomed in Aang’s chest at the words, but his smile faded when he saw how serious Zuko looked. The sight of tears hovering stubbornly in the Fire Nation Lord’s eyes, already red and puffy from days of clandestine breakdowns, made Aang wince in sympathy.
“You,” Zuko said thickly, seeming to choke on his own words. “You and Uncle, you have always kept me going. Made me better. Taught me so much. Believed in me. I… After my mother left, before I met you - really met you, I mean - he was all that I had. I don’t know how to feel whole without him.”
A tear slipped down his high cheekbones, but Zuko didn’t even seem to register it. Before he knew what he was doing, Aang was reaching over with his fingers to catch it before it slipped off Zuko’s chin. Almost instinctively, Zuko reached up to touch Aang’s hand and press it to his cheek. He still didn’t look at Aang.
Guiltily, Aang’s heart skipped a beat at the radiant warmth of Zuko, both under and over his cold fingers. He was so distracted by the sensation that he almost missed Zuko’s quiet words.
“Aang,” he said, trepidation written all over his downturned face. The dim light of the lanterns made his amber eyes glow like molten gold, and Aang could see his thick eyelashes from his vantage point. Even after years of stress and fatigue as the monarch of a war-sundered nation, his friend was so handsome. Azula had been physically attractive objectively (though Aang had not seen her since she had been taken to a sanitarium many years ago), but her beauty was that of a katana - fatal, and remorselessly so. Zuko was full of unwavering grace, with the dignified elegance of the flames that his firebending produced - passion and danger simmering beneath the surface but so masterfully controlled. Lost in tracing Zuko’s familiar features and noting the mild creases at the corners of his eyes that he hadn’t noticed before, Aang almost missed his next words: “Do you ever think of me?”
Aang blinked, confusion creasing his own features. “What do you mean? You’re my best friend; of course I think about you.”
“No, I mean…” Zuko said, clearly fumbling for words. “I mean, do you ever still think of me in that way?” At Aang’s surprised expression, his eyes skittered away, and he dropped the hand that had captured his cross his arms, almost as if he were struggling to hold himself in. “You don’t have to answer that. Never mind. It was foolish of me to bring it up.”
“I, uh,” Aang said awkwardly. He had not expected this topic to be breached ever again - not since he had rejected Zuko and somehow ended up in a whirlwind engagement with Katara. Regret was both too strong and too mild of a word to describe how he felt about those undeniably intertwined events. “Zuko, you, uh. After all this time, you still want me?”
Zuko laughed humorlessly. “You’re a fool if you think it’s that easy to get over you, Avatar.”
“Don’t call me that,” Aang snapped automatically. He hated when Zuko used his title instead of his name; it always sounded too much like mockery coming from his mouth. It harkened back to a time when friendship had not even been an option, much less the co-dependent, indestructibly fierce bond they had forged in the time since.
Zuko remained silent. Petulant. Fidgeting. Aang sighed. He supposed it was a fair question, though he loathed being reminded of the hurt he had caused his dearest friend so many years ago. Spirits, they had been so young and foolish. Aang stood by his decision to do right by Katara, but he wished it hadn’t come at the cost of Zuko’s pain. He saw now that it had been wrong to take advantage of Zuko that night, but he hadn’t been able to resist the greatest man he knew. There had always been an electrifying undercurrent of attraction between the two of them - still was, if he was being completely honest with himself - and back then, he had only begun to understand it. His eighteenth birthday, the balcony lights illuminating Zuko’s features in the most perfect way, it had felt like the right moment to leap without looking. Katara hadn’t even graced his mind. He hadn’t considered the consequences; the only thing that had mattered was Zuko’s fragile confession and how it had set Aang alight, mind, body, and soul. And then he hadn’t been in the right mind to think about anything but how beautiful Zuko looked as he writhed on those fancy silk sheets due to pleasure Aang was giving him. Each kiss they had shared had felt like a promise.
But in the afterglow, reality had sunken in, and Aang had known that he had to do the responsible thing. Though rejecting Zuko hadn’t even been the most difficult part. The worst part had been seeing Zuko’s face fall, as if everything he had ever wanted in life had been robbed from him. He had only glimpsed it for half a second before it was tucked primly behind a mask, but at the sight of that misery - the hopeless misery of dreams being extinguished - Aang had almost taken back his words. Except that would have been wrong as well, and the devastated expression would have resurfaced on Katara’s face instead.
In the war, Aang had been certain that he was in the right; he had known that no matter what he did, he would never sink to the depths of depravity that the Fire Nation practiced. He had recognized right from wrong as surely as he knew hot from cold. But having to choose between the two people he loved most in the world - and who loved him back just as fiercely - had been a moral dilemma he still pondered and doubted, though it shamed him something awful to admit it.
He loved Katara so much, and he was so proud to be her husband. Sharing his life with her provided him with boundless joy. She was caring, compassionate, and so resilient. She was so good for him, tempering him, serving as a voice of wisdom in the back of his mind, even when she wasn’t physically present.
But he would be lying if he said he didn’t wonder at times what his life would be like if he hadn’t turned Zuko down. If, that night, after Zuko’s hopeful inquiry, he had kissed him and held him as they drifted off to sleep, if he hadn’t woken up to an empty bed, if he had gone to tell Katara that he would be staying in the Fire Nation palace from then on.
“I think of you all the time,” Aang said finally, unwilling to disguise the resignation in his voice. “It is not something I’m proud of.”
Quickly, Zuko tried to disguise his crestfallen expression quickly under a pitifully thin veneer of apathy. “Then there is no hope for us,” he said.
Aang’s heart sank. Did he have to go through this again? Say no to something he truly wanted? Hurt his best friend for the sake of loyalty? Not for the first time, he wished things were different. The violence of war he could handle. The impossibility of diplomacy he could handle. The politics of city-building he could handle. But he could not cope with loving two people so much and having to choose one over the other - at the cost of the other.
“Zuko,” Aang said gently. There never was.”
Silence reigned in the small space between the two war heroes as something died in Zuko's eyes. Though Aang could not identify the emotion, he was sorry to see it go.
“Tell me, Aang,” Zuko spoke, so quietly that Aang had to lean closer to hear him properly. “If I had gotten to you first… If I had romanced you before Katara had… Would I have won?”
Aang closed his eyes, every muscle in his body heavy with uncertainty, guilt, and regret. He didn’t want to answer the question. He refused to speak anything but the truth to Zuko, especially in matters of the heart, but he did not want to contemplate what Zuko was suggesting. But he could not simply tell Zuko what he wanted to hear. “It’s not a competition. I’m not a thing to be won.”
“You’re the only thing worth having in this damn world,” Zuko burst out. Aang glanced up in surprise, meeting Zuko’s furious eyes. The anger filling them wasn’t aimed at Aang, though; it was directed inward. Aang tilted his head, and Zuko seemed to shrink into himself. “Answer my question,” he whispered. “Please. I need to know. I need closure.”
“I don’t have an answer for you,” Aang said honestly. “Believe me, I wish I did. But I won’t lie to you to make you feel better.”
Zuko cursed, a string of expletives that sounded unnatural coming from his proper mouth, the royal accent making the words seem filthier than they really were. “You’re so good it hurts, Aang. You’re so good.”
Aang looked down at his lap and closed his eyes briefly. These were not words he wished to hear. He knew that he was not a bad person, but he did not deserve that kind of praise - especially not from somebody who knew his flaws so well (and had known them even before he had learned of his more commendable traits, really).
“If I were really good, you would never hurt because of me.”
Though their arms pressed tightly against each other, the space between them felt like the endless, yawning chasm between two towering cliffs.
Aang felt like he was falling, directionless. Nothing he said or did was right. It stung bitterly. The Avatar was supposed to be a moral guide for the world’s citizens, but he could not even figure out what was right for himself. Not for the first time when it came to Zuko, he felt intolerably lost.
“I need you like fire needs oxygen to survive,” Zuko was whispering, his voice cracking. Aang could feel him trembling against him. “It’s not… It’s not healthy. I don’t want to push you away. I can’t bear to lose you too. It would break me.”
“You won’t lose me,” Aang said fiercely, because it might be the only thing he could give Zuko with absolute certainty. “Ever. Zuko, you won’t. I swear.”
“Yeah,” Zuko said, and Aang couldn’t tell if he believed him or not. Head bowed, Zuko continued, “My flame for you will never die. But it is time I stopped feeding it.”
Aang nodded in acceptance, though the words left him feeling oddly bereft.
“One last kiss?” he said in a weak attempt at a joke. It came out decidedly less lighthearted than he had intended and much more like a plea.
Zuko looked at him, sadly contemplative. His eyes were so gold and a well of emotions so complex and labyrinthine that Aang couldn’t even begin to untangle them. He could spend a lifetime trying. No. He wished that he could. A lifetime with Zuko…
“Yes, I think that would be fitting,” Zuko said finally, as if he needed to justify it to himself.
Their lips met, and though it was not an Earth-shattering kiss in and of itself, it crumbled Aang’s resolve and rocked the foundations on which he had built his life. It had been ten years since he had last been intimate with Zuko like this, but something about it felt unerringly familiar. Zuko was hot and tender and possessive and terrified all at the same time. But more than anything, the kiss rang of desperation. With his lips and his tongue, Zuko pressed hope and despair into Aang’s very being, the line between the two blurring until it was nearly indistinguishable. The corners of Aang’s closed eyes felt wet, but he wasn’t sure whether the tears were ones of joy or despair.
Zuko cradled either side of his face with unbridled reverence, so warm and so giving, blinding Aang to anything other than this moment.
This is what you could’ve had, his mind chanted relentlessly. This is could have been yours. And then, You fool. And, You will never get enough of him.
Never.
Surfacing, Aang gasped. His heart was racing so fast he thought it might leap out of his chest altogether and land in Zuko’s. Wrapped around his, where it belongs, his traitorous mind whispered.
Zuko followed Aang’s retreating face automatically before catching himself and standing up abruptly, putting a proper amount of space between them. Immediately, Aang mourned his warmth and his proximity. He repressed the urge to stand up and pull him into an embrace. He knew it would be accepted too easily, and then who knew what would come of it. He would not do that again, not to either of them.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the…”
Aang’s gut wrenched at the way Zuko choked on his words. He had come here hoping to help Zuko with his burdens but had inadvertently added to his pain.
“If you need anything,” he said, and found that he too was having trouble finding his words. But he wanted Zuko to know that he was here for him. He needed him to know. “Please.”
Zuko understood. Zuko always understood him, at his best and at his worst. He nodded once, and turned, his hands clasped stiffly behind his back.
“Thank you, Aang,” he said so quietly that Aang almost didn’t catch it.
“No,” Aang said, but his tongue felt numb and useless in his mouth. No what? No, don’t thank me for hurting you. No, don’t thank me for adding to your troubles. No, don’t thank me for breaking your heart. No, don’t thank me for being your friend. No, don’t thank me for only being able to be your friend. “Just,” he said stupidly. “Please. I’m here. Always.”
“I know,” Zuko said.
Aang watched him go and felt like he was once again trapped in the ice - freezing, immobile, and completely helpless.
When Aang returned home, Katara seemed to have made a quick recovery, her pallor no longer frighteningly ashy. She was still tired and had been instructed not to exert too much energy, though, so Aang spent his first day back at her bedside, reading her favorite novel aloud and trying to feed her soup. She kept swatting his hand away and insisted that she was perfectly capable of feeding herself.
She fell asleep after lunch, in the middle of chiding him about cleaning up the dishes. Aang spent the next hour and a half absentmindedly tidying up the house and struggling to get things sorted out in his head.
After Katara awoke, they had afternoon tea and Aang told her about the funeral. Over a steaming cup of jasmine tea, he told her that Zuko had decided to give up on pursuing him romantically. So you don’t need to worry anymore, was unspoken.
“Well,” she said, and Aang could hear the relief in her voice as clear as day. “Good.”
Aang nodded, not knowing what else to say. He didn’t know if he should tell her about the kiss. It seemed cruel to upset her when she was ill and bedridden, but he hated keeping secrets from her. That he even still had feelings for Zuko felt enough like betrayal each and every day.
But Katara had always been so shrewd. Eyes narrowed, she said, almost hesitantly, “What aren’t you telling me?”
He couldn’t lie now. He had to tell her.
“We kissed,” Aang whispered, staring at his half-finished teacup.
He was not ready for Katara’s reaction: With a shriek, she threw her finished cup at the wall and began sobbing into her hands.
Alarmed, Aang put his own cup aside and reached over to hold her.
“You can’t do this, Aang,” Katara choked. Her entire body was trembling in his arms, and she seemed unable to decide whether to wrench away from him or press further into the embrace. “Not anymore. You can’t just go around doing things like this. You’re with me. If you don’t want to be with me, tell me, and of ocurse I’ll fight you, but I’ll let you go if that’s what you really want. But you have to talk to me. You’re married; you can’t just go around…kissing other people. It’s dirty, it’s underhanded, and it hurts so much that our vows mean so little to you. If you want him, go. Don’t do this to me. I can’t take it anymore; I have so many other things to consider. Things are different now. I can’t do this alone, but I would rather raise a child alone than raise one in a broken family.”
Aang froze. “What? Wait, what?”
Katara lifted her head, eyes stony with resolute defiance as she looked him right in the eye.
“Aang, I’m pregnant,” she whispered.
“Oh,” was all Aang could say.
He had no idea how to voice any of the myriad feelings that had suddenly assaulted him. Shock, wonder, fear, excitement, worry, joy, and sorrow warred within him.
“Oh. I. Oh, Katara, I-”
And with a sinking heart, he thought of Zuko and the question he had posed about winning, if things had happened differently, earlier on in their lives. The thought of relationships being compared in such stark terms had repulsed him at the time, but perhaps he had jumped to conclusions. Because if love and devotion was a competition, Aang knew for certain that with Katara’s announcement, Zuko had just lost.
Chapter 5
Pairings: Zuko/Aang, Aang/Katara, Tenzin/Lin Bei Fong
Disclaimer: This story is based on the universe of Avatar: The Last Airbender and Legend of Korra, their characters, and their situations, none of which I own.
Summary: In the seventy years between the end of the Hundred Year War and the Equalist Revolution, the United Republic of Nations is formed, Republic City is founded, and love blooms between Avatar Aang and Fire Lord Zuko.
Chapter Rating: PG
Chapter Word Count: 3,500
Chapter Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Interlude | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5
Read on AO3
22 years ago, ASC 116
Dinner at the Fire Nation Palace was never anything short of a feast. Aang devoured his vegetable stew, salad, and plain noodles with delight, barely pausing to thank Zuko between shoveling food into his mouth, chewing, and swallowing.
Zuko watched on in amusement as he demolished plate after plate, though his smile did not reach his eyes. Aang’s visit to the Fire Nation this time around had been for neither a joyous occasion nor a much-needed respite. He was here to pay respects to the recently deceased Iroh, who had died peacefully in his bed with a proverb about life and death on his lips.
Sokka and Toph were scheduled to arrive early tomorrow. Katara had fallen ill a few days before she and Aang were to leave, and he had almost canceled the trip before she had demanded that he go without her.
“I’ll be fine with some rest, Aang. You know how stressful it’s been lately with the Northern Water Tribe’s nonsense. Iroh was a good man and a good friend. He deserves our respects. You’ll say something nice for me, won’t you?”
After some pushing, Aang had conceded, leaving the United Republic for the Fire Nation capital. Although he hated leaving Katara behind when she wasn’t feeling well, he had to admit that he was looking forward to getting away for a little bit. Even if it was for a grim occasion. Geopolitical politics had taken a turn for the worse over the past year, and he was tired of everyone looking to him for answers when it came to even the pettiest disputes. He was the Avatar, not a miracleworker.
But spending time with his best friend always lifted his spirits. Already, he felt much better, shifting his focus from his exhaustion and bone-deep weariness to the task of comforting his forlorn friend. Zuko was struggling to bury his grief and failing desperately at it. Aang read every forced neutral expression and too-polite utterance as clearly as he would have if Zuko’s face had been streaming with tears.
After dinner - during which Zuko had barely even touched his plate - Zuko excused himself quickly and quietly. Aang watched him leave, sympathy clogging up his throat. When he had visited in the past, Zuko had been so eager to spend time with him that they had hardly ever left each other’s sides. That he was seeking solitude now was worrying. But Aang respected his unspoken wish to be alone and retreated to his chambers.
After an hour of alternating between pacing, composing a letter to Katara, and trying to read the book he had brought along, Aang decided that Zuko had had enough time alone and that it was time to see if he could do anything at all to ease his pain.
“Hey,” Aang said. “How are you feeling?”
Zuko was quiet. The courtyard was cold, and Aang wished he had thought to bring his coat. He sat down beside his friend on the ornate stone bench, tucking his freezing fingers into the space between his thighs. Solemn and still, Zuko continued staring into the distance, seemingly unfazed by the stinging winter air. His eyes flickered over to Aang briefly as the younger man shifted closer, shivering slightly. Zuko made an aborted gesture, as if he had been about to wrap an arm around Aang but decided against it.
“Empty,” he said. “Cold.”
Aang knew that he wasn’t talking about the weather.
“I’m here,” he said.
“Yes,” Zuko said after a moment. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Warmth bloomed in Aang’s chest at the words, but his smile faded when he saw how serious Zuko looked. The sight of tears hovering stubbornly in the Fire Nation Lord’s eyes, already red and puffy from days of clandestine breakdowns, made Aang wince in sympathy.
“You,” Zuko said thickly, seeming to choke on his own words. “You and Uncle, you have always kept me going. Made me better. Taught me so much. Believed in me. I… After my mother left, before I met you - really met you, I mean - he was all that I had. I don’t know how to feel whole without him.”
A tear slipped down his high cheekbones, but Zuko didn’t even seem to register it. Before he knew what he was doing, Aang was reaching over with his fingers to catch it before it slipped off Zuko’s chin. Almost instinctively, Zuko reached up to touch Aang’s hand and press it to his cheek. He still didn’t look at Aang.
Guiltily, Aang’s heart skipped a beat at the radiant warmth of Zuko, both under and over his cold fingers. He was so distracted by the sensation that he almost missed Zuko’s quiet words.
“Aang,” he said, trepidation written all over his downturned face. The dim light of the lanterns made his amber eyes glow like molten gold, and Aang could see his thick eyelashes from his vantage point. Even after years of stress and fatigue as the monarch of a war-sundered nation, his friend was so handsome. Azula had been physically attractive objectively (though Aang had not seen her since she had been taken to a sanitarium many years ago), but her beauty was that of a katana - fatal, and remorselessly so. Zuko was full of unwavering grace, with the dignified elegance of the flames that his firebending produced - passion and danger simmering beneath the surface but so masterfully controlled. Lost in tracing Zuko’s familiar features and noting the mild creases at the corners of his eyes that he hadn’t noticed before, Aang almost missed his next words: “Do you ever think of me?”
Aang blinked, confusion creasing his own features. “What do you mean? You’re my best friend; of course I think about you.”
“No, I mean…” Zuko said, clearly fumbling for words. “I mean, do you ever still think of me in that way?” At Aang’s surprised expression, his eyes skittered away, and he dropped the hand that had captured his cross his arms, almost as if he were struggling to hold himself in. “You don’t have to answer that. Never mind. It was foolish of me to bring it up.”
“I, uh,” Aang said awkwardly. He had not expected this topic to be breached ever again - not since he had rejected Zuko and somehow ended up in a whirlwind engagement with Katara. Regret was both too strong and too mild of a word to describe how he felt about those undeniably intertwined events. “Zuko, you, uh. After all this time, you still want me?”
Zuko laughed humorlessly. “You’re a fool if you think it’s that easy to get over you, Avatar.”
“Don’t call me that,” Aang snapped automatically. He hated when Zuko used his title instead of his name; it always sounded too much like mockery coming from his mouth. It harkened back to a time when friendship had not even been an option, much less the co-dependent, indestructibly fierce bond they had forged in the time since.
Zuko remained silent. Petulant. Fidgeting. Aang sighed. He supposed it was a fair question, though he loathed being reminded of the hurt he had caused his dearest friend so many years ago. Spirits, they had been so young and foolish. Aang stood by his decision to do right by Katara, but he wished it hadn’t come at the cost of Zuko’s pain. He saw now that it had been wrong to take advantage of Zuko that night, but he hadn’t been able to resist the greatest man he knew. There had always been an electrifying undercurrent of attraction between the two of them - still was, if he was being completely honest with himself - and back then, he had only begun to understand it. His eighteenth birthday, the balcony lights illuminating Zuko’s features in the most perfect way, it had felt like the right moment to leap without looking. Katara hadn’t even graced his mind. He hadn’t considered the consequences; the only thing that had mattered was Zuko’s fragile confession and how it had set Aang alight, mind, body, and soul. And then he hadn’t been in the right mind to think about anything but how beautiful Zuko looked as he writhed on those fancy silk sheets due to pleasure Aang was giving him. Each kiss they had shared had felt like a promise.
But in the afterglow, reality had sunken in, and Aang had known that he had to do the responsible thing. Though rejecting Zuko hadn’t even been the most difficult part. The worst part had been seeing Zuko’s face fall, as if everything he had ever wanted in life had been robbed from him. He had only glimpsed it for half a second before it was tucked primly behind a mask, but at the sight of that misery - the hopeless misery of dreams being extinguished - Aang had almost taken back his words. Except that would have been wrong as well, and the devastated expression would have resurfaced on Katara’s face instead.
In the war, Aang had been certain that he was in the right; he had known that no matter what he did, he would never sink to the depths of depravity that the Fire Nation practiced. He had recognized right from wrong as surely as he knew hot from cold. But having to choose between the two people he loved most in the world - and who loved him back just as fiercely - had been a moral dilemma he still pondered and doubted, though it shamed him something awful to admit it.
He loved Katara so much, and he was so proud to be her husband. Sharing his life with her provided him with boundless joy. She was caring, compassionate, and so resilient. She was so good for him, tempering him, serving as a voice of wisdom in the back of his mind, even when she wasn’t physically present.
But he would be lying if he said he didn’t wonder at times what his life would be like if he hadn’t turned Zuko down. If, that night, after Zuko’s hopeful inquiry, he had kissed him and held him as they drifted off to sleep, if he hadn’t woken up to an empty bed, if he had gone to tell Katara that he would be staying in the Fire Nation palace from then on.
“I think of you all the time,” Aang said finally, unwilling to disguise the resignation in his voice. “It is not something I’m proud of.”
Quickly, Zuko tried to disguise his crestfallen expression quickly under a pitifully thin veneer of apathy. “Then there is no hope for us,” he said.
Aang’s heart sank. Did he have to go through this again? Say no to something he truly wanted? Hurt his best friend for the sake of loyalty? Not for the first time, he wished things were different. The violence of war he could handle. The impossibility of diplomacy he could handle. The politics of city-building he could handle. But he could not cope with loving two people so much and having to choose one over the other - at the cost of the other.
“Zuko,” Aang said gently. There never was.”
Silence reigned in the small space between the two war heroes as something died in Zuko's eyes. Though Aang could not identify the emotion, he was sorry to see it go.
“Tell me, Aang,” Zuko spoke, so quietly that Aang had to lean closer to hear him properly. “If I had gotten to you first… If I had romanced you before Katara had… Would I have won?”
Aang closed his eyes, every muscle in his body heavy with uncertainty, guilt, and regret. He didn’t want to answer the question. He refused to speak anything but the truth to Zuko, especially in matters of the heart, but he did not want to contemplate what Zuko was suggesting. But he could not simply tell Zuko what he wanted to hear. “It’s not a competition. I’m not a thing to be won.”
“You’re the only thing worth having in this damn world,” Zuko burst out. Aang glanced up in surprise, meeting Zuko’s furious eyes. The anger filling them wasn’t aimed at Aang, though; it was directed inward. Aang tilted his head, and Zuko seemed to shrink into himself. “Answer my question,” he whispered. “Please. I need to know. I need closure.”
“I don’t have an answer for you,” Aang said honestly. “Believe me, I wish I did. But I won’t lie to you to make you feel better.”
Zuko cursed, a string of expletives that sounded unnatural coming from his proper mouth, the royal accent making the words seem filthier than they really were. “You’re so good it hurts, Aang. You’re so good.”
Aang looked down at his lap and closed his eyes briefly. These were not words he wished to hear. He knew that he was not a bad person, but he did not deserve that kind of praise - especially not from somebody who knew his flaws so well (and had known them even before he had learned of his more commendable traits, really).
“If I were really good, you would never hurt because of me.”
Though their arms pressed tightly against each other, the space between them felt like the endless, yawning chasm between two towering cliffs.
Aang felt like he was falling, directionless. Nothing he said or did was right. It stung bitterly. The Avatar was supposed to be a moral guide for the world’s citizens, but he could not even figure out what was right for himself. Not for the first time when it came to Zuko, he felt intolerably lost.
“I need you like fire needs oxygen to survive,” Zuko was whispering, his voice cracking. Aang could feel him trembling against him. “It’s not… It’s not healthy. I don’t want to push you away. I can’t bear to lose you too. It would break me.”
“You won’t lose me,” Aang said fiercely, because it might be the only thing he could give Zuko with absolute certainty. “Ever. Zuko, you won’t. I swear.”
“Yeah,” Zuko said, and Aang couldn’t tell if he believed him or not. Head bowed, Zuko continued, “My flame for you will never die. But it is time I stopped feeding it.”
Aang nodded in acceptance, though the words left him feeling oddly bereft.
“One last kiss?” he said in a weak attempt at a joke. It came out decidedly less lighthearted than he had intended and much more like a plea.
Zuko looked at him, sadly contemplative. His eyes were so gold and a well of emotions so complex and labyrinthine that Aang couldn’t even begin to untangle them. He could spend a lifetime trying. No. He wished that he could. A lifetime with Zuko…
“Yes, I think that would be fitting,” Zuko said finally, as if he needed to justify it to himself.
Their lips met, and though it was not an Earth-shattering kiss in and of itself, it crumbled Aang’s resolve and rocked the foundations on which he had built his life. It had been ten years since he had last been intimate with Zuko like this, but something about it felt unerringly familiar. Zuko was hot and tender and possessive and terrified all at the same time. But more than anything, the kiss rang of desperation. With his lips and his tongue, Zuko pressed hope and despair into Aang’s very being, the line between the two blurring until it was nearly indistinguishable. The corners of Aang’s closed eyes felt wet, but he wasn’t sure whether the tears were ones of joy or despair.
Zuko cradled either side of his face with unbridled reverence, so warm and so giving, blinding Aang to anything other than this moment.
This is what you could’ve had, his mind chanted relentlessly. This is could have been yours. And then, You fool. And, You will never get enough of him.
Never.
Surfacing, Aang gasped. His heart was racing so fast he thought it might leap out of his chest altogether and land in Zuko’s. Wrapped around his, where it belongs, his traitorous mind whispered.
Zuko followed Aang’s retreating face automatically before catching himself and standing up abruptly, putting a proper amount of space between them. Immediately, Aang mourned his warmth and his proximity. He repressed the urge to stand up and pull him into an embrace. He knew it would be accepted too easily, and then who knew what would come of it. He would not do that again, not to either of them.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the…”
Aang’s gut wrenched at the way Zuko choked on his words. He had come here hoping to help Zuko with his burdens but had inadvertently added to his pain.
“If you need anything,” he said, and found that he too was having trouble finding his words. But he wanted Zuko to know that he was here for him. He needed him to know. “Please.”
Zuko understood. Zuko always understood him, at his best and at his worst. He nodded once, and turned, his hands clasped stiffly behind his back.
“Thank you, Aang,” he said so quietly that Aang almost didn’t catch it.
“No,” Aang said, but his tongue felt numb and useless in his mouth. No what? No, don’t thank me for hurting you. No, don’t thank me for adding to your troubles. No, don’t thank me for breaking your heart. No, don’t thank me for being your friend. No, don’t thank me for only being able to be your friend. “Just,” he said stupidly. “Please. I’m here. Always.”
“I know,” Zuko said.
Aang watched him go and felt like he was once again trapped in the ice - freezing, immobile, and completely helpless.
When Aang returned home, Katara seemed to have made a quick recovery, her pallor no longer frighteningly ashy. She was still tired and had been instructed not to exert too much energy, though, so Aang spent his first day back at her bedside, reading her favorite novel aloud and trying to feed her soup. She kept swatting his hand away and insisted that she was perfectly capable of feeding herself.
She fell asleep after lunch, in the middle of chiding him about cleaning up the dishes. Aang spent the next hour and a half absentmindedly tidying up the house and struggling to get things sorted out in his head.
After Katara awoke, they had afternoon tea and Aang told her about the funeral. Over a steaming cup of jasmine tea, he told her that Zuko had decided to give up on pursuing him romantically. So you don’t need to worry anymore, was unspoken.
“Well,” she said, and Aang could hear the relief in her voice as clear as day. “Good.”
Aang nodded, not knowing what else to say. He didn’t know if he should tell her about the kiss. It seemed cruel to upset her when she was ill and bedridden, but he hated keeping secrets from her. That he even still had feelings for Zuko felt enough like betrayal each and every day.
But Katara had always been so shrewd. Eyes narrowed, she said, almost hesitantly, “What aren’t you telling me?”
He couldn’t lie now. He had to tell her.
“We kissed,” Aang whispered, staring at his half-finished teacup.
He was not ready for Katara’s reaction: With a shriek, she threw her finished cup at the wall and began sobbing into her hands.
Alarmed, Aang put his own cup aside and reached over to hold her.
“You can’t do this, Aang,” Katara choked. Her entire body was trembling in his arms, and she seemed unable to decide whether to wrench away from him or press further into the embrace. “Not anymore. You can’t just go around doing things like this. You’re with me. If you don’t want to be with me, tell me, and of ocurse I’ll fight you, but I’ll let you go if that’s what you really want. But you have to talk to me. You’re married; you can’t just go around…kissing other people. It’s dirty, it’s underhanded, and it hurts so much that our vows mean so little to you. If you want him, go. Don’t do this to me. I can’t take it anymore; I have so many other things to consider. Things are different now. I can’t do this alone, but I would rather raise a child alone than raise one in a broken family.”
Aang froze. “What? Wait, what?”
Katara lifted her head, eyes stony with resolute defiance as she looked him right in the eye.
“Aang, I’m pregnant,” she whispered.
“Oh,” was all Aang could say.
He had no idea how to voice any of the myriad feelings that had suddenly assaulted him. Shock, wonder, fear, excitement, worry, joy, and sorrow warred within him.
“Oh. I. Oh, Katara, I-”
And with a sinking heart, he thought of Zuko and the question he had posed about winning, if things had happened differently, earlier on in their lives. The thought of relationships being compared in such stark terms had repulsed him at the time, but perhaps he had jumped to conclusions. Because if love and devotion was a competition, Aang knew for certain that with Katara’s announcement, Zuko had just lost.
Chapter 5