Somewhere I Belong

"I wanna heal, I wanna feel, like I'm close to something real; I wanna find something I've wanted all along: somewhere I belong."
"Somewhere I Belong" by Linkin Park

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Even in his dreams Zuko was not granted peace. The supposed future that stupid play had shown them earlier was playing over and over in his head—only his version was so much worse. He dreamed of Azula and Ozai—of lightning and blue fire swallowing him and everything in their path. He heard the cheers of the audience as he died and saw their faces sneering at him; their expressions twisted into sickened grimaces as they scoffed at him for even thinking that he had any right to the throne. After all, if his own father couldn't even love him, how could anyone else?

In other flashes he saw the deaths of his new allies; their charred and battered corpses littered a path to a triumphant Azula and Ozai's feet. His uncle was lying lifeless in his arms, and Zuko howled in despair.

"Nooo!" he cried as he jolted awake, sweat gathered on his brow.

His heart pounded in his ears as his head swirled; the vestiges of his dream still lingered over him like a heavy fog. Adrenaline pumping and nerves frayed, Zuko summarily decided to give up on sleeping. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and raked a shaky hand through his hair.

It was just a dream.

Zuko gripped the edge of the mattress and inhaled, then exhaled loudly. He focused on that singular act alone and attempted to regain his composure, but that anxious knot in his stomach would not relax. He needed to get outside and get some air, or maybe try to meditate—anything to calm down.

Not even bothering with his shoes or shirt, Zuko padded out into the hallway and out of the house. He had no exact destination in mind; instead he just let his body run on auto-pilot while he mentally focused on keeping himself from unraveling. Before long he could feel the coarse sand beneath him, but it wasn't until a cool sensation washed over his feet that he willed himself to stop moving. He had made his way to the edge of the private little beach near the house, where the waves were rolling lazily onto the land. The sea's undulations were repetitive and hypnotizing, and Zuko couldn't help but stare out at the water and inhale deeply. The smell of the salt air filled his lungs, reminding him of his days at sea; it anchored him. He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes, and repeated the process a few more times.

In all his time in exile, Zuko had secretly grown to love being at sea. Water was not his element, true, but he had a healthy respect for it. There was something about the sounds and the motions that made him feel at peace. Soon the panic induced by his nightmare was beginning to drift away as each wave lapped at his ankles, and Zuko was able to feel his heartbeat slow to a relaxed, even pace.

He plopped down in the sand, not caring whether or not his pants got wet, and folded his legs and continued to stare off at the ocean. So much had changed in such a short span of time that he hadn't been able to really digest any of it. Ever since joining the Avatar and his little band of misfits, Zuko had been busy—trying to regain his Firebending, taking care of that damned assassin, helping Sokka rescue his father, training the Avatar, and fighting off Azula whenever she attacked. And he did all of this while trying to fit in with his enemies-turned-allies, who—for the most part—had accepted him. All except one:

Katara…

Sighing, he rubbed his temples with the pads of his finger. Of course she was the least likely to trust him out of everyone; he had been prepared for that. What he hadn't been prepared for was the true depth of her anger and her hatred of him after what happened in Ba Sing Se. On his first night with the group she had come to his room privately to threaten him if he ever dared to step one toe out of line, and it had legitimately made him nervous at the time.

What was it Uncle had said: "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned"?

He wasn't kidding.

Ever since he made the decision that day in Ba Sing Se to join his sister, he had been at war with himself; lost and confused by how he could be so unsatisfied with what he had convinced himself was right for all these years. He had finally returned home every bit the triumphant and loyal Fire Nation Prince that everyone had expected, but he wasn't happy. He didn't feel right, and it left him frustrated and angry. It had taken weeks to come to terms with the fact that he really had changed and what he had been fighting for wasn't what he needed anymore. What he needed was to join the Avatar—to help restore balance to the world so that all the horrible things he had suffered and had seen others suffer during his banishment could be changed. This war was pointless and it needed to end; so Zuko decided to do just that by going after the Avatar and joining him.

He hated what he had done to Aang and to Katara, and most of all what he had not done for his Uncle. But there was nothing he could do to change his past transgressions. All he could do was seek their forgiveness and try to prove to them that he was a new person willing to be their ally. And while Aang hadn't said outright that he was forgiven, the young boy had made it clear that he had accepted Zuko in some small way, which brought Zuko some comfort. Katara, however, had been so dogged in her opinion that nothing he did seemed to sway her; it made him desperate and frustrated. She was the last holdout in their little group and, for whatever reason, it was her forgiveness he wanted most.

It was then that he came up with the hair-brained scheme to help Katara seek vengeance on her mother's killer. What made him think that was going to work, he had no idea, but he had to do something. Katara had accepted his offer, and it had been an interesting "field trip" to say the least. But on their way back she had become quiet—too quiet—and he wasn't sure what she was thinking. So it was to his complete and utter shock that when they returned she had forgiven him. He couldn't believe it. The relief that flooded over him was tremendous and, for the first time since he joined the Avatar, he felt a little lighter—as if a weight had been lifted.

Now if I could just get Uncle to forgive me, he thought sadly, as he picked a random shell out of the sand and threw it into the water.

"Can't sleep?" a voice asked, causing Zuko to jump and break his line of thought.

He looked up and was stunned to realize that Katara was standing just a few feet from him, dressed in Fire Nation garb.

"Didn't mean to startle you. I thought for sure you would have heard me approach." She smirked, her hands planted on her hips.

"You didn't startle me," he lied, trying to maintain some dignity.

How she always managed to catch him off-guard was unusual. Zuko was many things, but not the kind of man who could be easily startled. Katara, however, was an exception to the rule. She was an enigma—unpredictable and surprising. Without even trying, she seemed to slip past the walls he had so painstakingly erected around himself. While she was different, she wasn't wholly unsettling, just… strange, and it often left him feeling confused on how to act around her.

"Uh-huh, right."

"You didn't!"

"Whatever you say—your majesty." Katara gave him a small, mocking bow.

Zuko folded his arms over his chest and huffed. She was impossible.

"What are you doing out here anyway?" she asked, her voice breaking through the silence again.

"Couldn't sleep," he admitted. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep either." She turned to stare out over the water, crossing her arms over her middle and clasping her elbows.

Now that they were on somewhat better terms, Zuko felt more comfortable studying her without the threat of brutal retribution. Her long brown hair was completely loose and cascaded down her back, billowing softly in the slight breeze. It was still odd seeing her in Fire Nation colors, and he was surprised by how well they suited her; although blue would always be her color.

They hadn't really talked much since rejoining the group, and Zuko found it somewhat odd how her attitude seemed to almost change overnight. She was less defensive and even cordial toward him, as though she were relieved to finally be past the grudge she had held for so long. Clearly she was still anxious, as made evident by her being out and about by herself at night. He wondered if she was trying to shake off her own inner demons as well. Judging by the look on her face, Zuko concluded that she must have been lost in thought.

"What?" Katara asked suddenly, returning her attention to him.

"Nothing." He shook his head and turned to face the water again. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

She sighed. "I-I don't know. Too much on my mind, I guess? I was feeling anxious and being near the water makes me feel better."

As if to prove her point she moved in closer, stepping far enough into the ocean so that when the waves came rushing in, the water reached half way up her calves. She then began to bend the water toward her, twirling her wrist to make the tendril of water spin slowly in the air.

"Oh, that would make sense, I guess."

"What about you?"

He tensed for a moment. In his reverie he had managed to successfully forget about his nightmare, which had been the whole point of coming outside, but when she questioned him it all came crashing back. He shuddered despite the warm summer night.

Dropping her hands, Katara ceased her bending and sat down next to him; keeping a few inches between them. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He grimaced and shook his head. "I… I had a nightmare is all; it's not important."

Katara reached out and placed a hand on his arm; her touch was soft and cool. "The play got to you too, didn't it?"

He nodded, face tight. His golden eyes scanned the seas. That damned play had summarily dispatched any little bit of confidence Zuko had left in himself. The fact that his own people cheered the Avatar's downfall—his downfall—disturbed him more than anything else. It wasn't their fault; he knew that. A century at war had greatly skewed their perspective; however, knowing and understanding that did not make him feel any better.

"I wonder if my people will be able to accept me when all this is over," he said aloud, not really expecting an answer.

"It's going to be difficult for them, at first." She let her hand fall from his arm and turned her gaze back on the water. "I'm not so naïve as to think that if we defeat the Fire Lord suddenly everyone is going to get along. Even I am well aware of the fact that ending this war is just the beginning—of what, I don't know, but this isn't something that is going to change overnight."

Zuko stared at her, rather taken aback by her somber tone. Usually she was the blindly optimistic one, and suddenly he wondered how much of that was for herself or for her companions. She was always surprising him with different sides of her personality that he wasn't used to seeing around the others. Beyond the willful, hopeful, kind, mothering girl was a darker, skeptical, distrusting, and judgmental young woman. Katara completely and utterly perplexed him, but it was these dueling parts of her nature that made her seem more human, more conflicted—just like him.

He noted the dark expression on her face and it made him uncomfortable, though he was grateful she wasn't crying—not like before. After confronting Yon Rha, Katara's brave face finally cracked and Zuko had been totally unprepared for it. Sure, he had seen Katara cry before, but this was different. It was as if she had never really cried in all the years since her mother's death and she chose that moment to let it all out. Seeing and hearing her sob like that—it made something within him crumble. He had done the best he could to comfort her; imitating the way his mother used to rub his back when he was upset, though he was terrible at it. He didn't like seeing Katara cry and it relieved him when she finally calmed down some time later, but he wasn't entirely sure he had been much help, even though she had thanked him like he had.

"You're staring at me again." She crossed her arms over her chest—the dark expression gone—and cocked an eyebrow; a small smirk played across her lips.

"I was half expecting some speech on hope or something," he blurted out.

Real smooth there, Zuko.

"I am NOT always going on about hope!" she bleated, sticking her nose in the air. "Besides, there is nothing wrong with being optimistic."

"Sure, whatever you say, Hopebender," he mocked, purposefully egging her on. Seeing her so somber unnerved him and taunting her was the best way he found to take her mind off of what bothered her. Conveniently, it served as a great distraction for his own internal issues.

He realized a little too late that he probably should not have been taunting a Waterbender when they were surrounded by her particular element—at night no less—but he was feeling rather reckless. His intention wasn't to actually piss her off, but provoking Katara would allow him to blow off some of the lingering unease from his nightmare, and with him she never held back.

"Well it's better than being some angry jerk, Jerkbender!"

She really was easily riled. Zuko smirked, unable to hide his amusement, which only seemed to fluster Katara even more.

"Wipe that smirk off your face before I make you!" She shot to her feet and glowered down at him.

He knew she wasn't actually angry at him, but he knew how to push her buttons. And nothing quite got Katara into the sparring mood like a few potshots to her pride.

"Is that a challenge?" He followed her to his feet, dusting himself off.

No sooner had he said that she was calling the water to her and sent it flying toward him. He countered, easily dodging and punching forward, blasting fire in retaliation. She twirled away from his blast toward the water where she gloved her arms and started slinging water whips at him. Steam exploded all around them as each crack of her water whips connected against his own whips of fire.

They traded off attacking and defending, fire meeting water, sizzling and steaming in the night air. Katara dodged and weaved, freezing the water as a shield against his fire kicks.

Despite himself, Zuko found that he enjoyed sparring with the Waterbender. Thinking back to the other day when she faced Yon Rha, he was glad to see that she seemed to be back to normal. When she came face to face with her mother's murderer, Katara was a seething fountain of rage and pain, and it showed through her bending. Anytime he had come up against her in the past she had fought with all of her heart, never holding back, but this—this had been so much different. For the first time he saw intent to kill in her eyes and stance. It put into stark contrast all their previous battles. She was always fiercely protecting the Avatar, and that made her fight, but she never had the desire to hurt or kill. It spoke volumes to just how powerful she could be if pushed far enough, especially at her most vulnerable. Ever since their first real one-on-one fight at the North Pole he had been amazed by her skill. Before she had barely been able to perform the most basic bending forms, but now she moved with the grace and confidence of a master. Not that he would ever say that to her face; she had a big enough ego as it was.

"Take it back!" she cried.

"Take what back, Hopebender?"

Crying out with frustration, Katara charged and brought a great surge of water with her. Zuko tried to move out of the way, but he was too late. Maybe he had overdone it a bit calling her names, but he hadn't expected such retaliation so quickly. It amazed him how easily she was able to call on such a large volume of water so effortlessly, but he had little time to stare in awe before the water barreled over him and sent him tumbling back onto the beach face first.

He sat up, coughing and sputtering, and spit out sand. Fine, if that was how she wanted to play it then it was on. He jumped up and was ready to charge back when he noticed she was doubled over laughing.

"What are you laughing at?" he snarled.

Katara was clutching her sides, trying her best to catch her breath. "N-nothing!"

He growled and stood up. Steaming the water away so it was easier to dust the sand off, Zuko turned and started to head inside.

"Wait!" She ran after him and caught his wrist.

"What?"

She seemed naturally shocked that he was angry.

"I'm sorry, it's just… the look on your face, with all the sand…"

She was still trying to stifle a giggle, and Zuko found it hard to stay mad with her when she was giggling like that—even if it was at his expense.

"Here, you've still got some sand in your hair."

Zuko stiffened as she let go of his wrist and began dusting the remaining sand out of his hair. She was awfully close to him, and he could smell the ocean on her, along with the hint of something sweeter that he could not place. He was suddenly brought back to that moment in Ba Sing Se when she touched his scar. He had never let anyone touch him like that before, but something about this girl made him feel comfortable enough to drop his guard, and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that.

She seemed to realize too late their proximity, for when her eyes met his she quickly pulled her hand away as if she had been electrocuted.

"There, all better!" she said, trying to play it casual; as if her actions were totally normal.

She took an awkward step back to put some space between them.

"Ah. Um… thanks," he responded gruffly.

The silence between them was tense. Zuko wasn't sure what to say. He was never the confident one when it came to the opposite sex, but Katara especially baffled and frustrated him. At least with Mai he managed to come up with something to say, even if she barely registered any real interest in it. Guilt made him wince as he remembered his ex-girlfriend who he had not-so-kindly dumped via letter. He was going to make it up to her someday, he just had no idea when.

"You know I didn't mean to make you angry," Katara admitted, her voice cutting into his thoughts. She had spoken somewhat softly, digging her toes into the sand as if she were embarrassed.

"Huh?"

"The look on your face just now. You seem upset and I thought maybe it was my fault."

"Oh, no. I was just thinking about stuff again." He rubbed the back of his neck. Am I that easy to read?

"I know I haven't been all that nice to you, but when and if you feel like talking, I would be glad to listen." She looked down and away shyly. "It's the least I can do after all you've done for me."

Again, he was struck speechless. This was not the Katara he was used to interacting with. Angry, verbally abusive and mocking Katara he could handle—this kinder, gentler Katara was new to him and left him feeling a little lost.

In his short time interacting with the Avatar's group, Zuko had learned quite a bit about the Waterbender. She may have been insufferable—what with her scoffing and shooting nasty looks at him every chance she got—but beyond that, she was the glue that held the group together. She cooked, she cleaned, she mended, she trained, she healed, and always, always worked on making sure everyone was happy. It was something that baffled and awed him all at once. She was not just shouldering the burdens of war and of traveling with the Avatar, but she took it upon herself to take care of the others. She was always putting everyone else before herself; thus Zuko knew Katara's willingness to listen to him was genuine. She was trying to be his friend now and that was exactly what he wanted.

When she looked up at him expectantly, he smiled. He was doing that a lot lately. "You'll be the first to know."

She beamed proudly at him and nodded.

"We should probably head back and try to get some sleep, especially since you 'rise with the sun'," she teased.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he said, and they both started heading back up to the house. "Besides, I have an Avatar to train in a few hours."

Quietly, they sneaked back inside so as not to wake anyone. They reached Katara's room first, and she slipped inside. She was just about to close the door when he put his hand on the door to stop her. Katara blinked at him, confused.

"Thank you," he said simply. It was all he could think to say.

Once again she smiled at him. "You're very welcome."

"Well, then," he began awkwardly, "good night."

"Good night," Katara whispered, closing the door.

Moving away from her door, Zuko headed back down the hall to his room. Once inside, he flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He finally felt tired enough to sleep, and despite the fact that neither he nor Katara had really talked about what had brought them outside in the first place, Zuko at least felt better; knowing that she wanted to be his friend gave Zuko a small sense of pride.

Her acceptance of him finally made him feel like he really belonged with this strange group of kids who were trying to change the world. It was a feeling he had never really experienced before—belonging—and it felt good. It reminded him of when his mother was around. It felt like home. He finally had a purpose—a true and clear purpose—with no conflict and no uncertainty. He knew what needed to be done and he would give his all to see it through, just like the rest of his new friends. Yes, they were friends, even if he would never admit it out loud.

Yawning, Zuko rolled over onto his side and drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep. He was finally at peace for the first in his life.