Avatar: The Conduit

Chapter Twenty-One: Revelations

It felt good to be back on the open sea with a clear destination in mind. He might not have known what exactly was waiting for them in the desert, but it didn't stop the feeling of elation coursing through his veins.

They had been sailing for a week and a half, making only one stop along the way and making good time. The weather had been acclimable and nothing had stood in their way. Zuko was anxious to arrive at their destination. Their time was running out. They only had five weeks left to reach their destination, and he was clinging to the notion that what the Conduit had told him was true, that the destiny of the prophecy could be changed.

For all he knew, she was lying to save her own skin. But Zuko didn't think so. It would have been too easy for the Conduit to kill them both. She could have been done with them and stolen away to hide for another century.

The only thing Zuko didn't understand was why. Her power was so strong it was tangible. Zuko had never felt anything like that before. If she was so powerful, it would have been easy enough for her to conquer the world. I'm not even sure Aang can compete with her. But Uncle thinks the Avatar might be able to stop her if we need him to. Zuko couldn't help but wonder what else his uncle knew that he hadn't told them about.

He recalled his solo encounter with the Conduit and wished he had asked more questions. But he had been so paralyzed by fear his only focus had been getting out of there alive. Getting back to Katara.

He had told her where they were going after they had returned to the ship. Katara had pressed him, and he had said his uncle had mentioned the location and its deep spiritual connection to him before. She had believed him, and the guilt was starting to eat at him. She would have been furious if I told her the truth, Zuko thought. But she'll be even angrier when she finds out you lied to her, a small, rational voice told him. I'll figure it out.

He was kicking himself mentally for it. He had lied impulsively, without thinking it through, like he always did. His desire to protect her had won out over logic and reason. Zuko knew retrospectively that it was dangerous to let his emotions control his decisions, but the water tribe princess was clouding his judgment about more than just the Conduit.

It had taken five days to travel back to the port on Beast. They had travelled from dawn until dusk, stopping only for food and bathroom breaks. Both of them had been eager to get back on the right path.

Every day he had relished the feeling of her in his arms, the sea-salt breeze smell of her hair, the warmth of her back against his chest, and the way she leaned against him, head tucked against his neck, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Every night they slept entwined in the same bedroll.

It had started out innocently enough: simply sleeping side-by-side, only touching where they had to due to the limited space. They had just wanted to keep the awful nightmares at bay. But on the third night, after two nights of waking up entwined together anyway, Katara had slipped into the bedroll beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

From there, it just seemed natural. She would be pressed against his chest, fingers knotted in his shirt or resting against his neck, her fingertips curling into his hair, her cool breath against his throat; he would have her wrapped in his arms, one hand tracing the dip of her spine along her lower back, the other pressed to her hair. Neither of them were plagued by nightmares as long as they slept alongside one another. It had become a rhythm, a pattern, one he had feared would end when they returned to the ship.

But she surprised him when, on their first night back, he had settled into his futon already missing the feel of her beside him, and she had entered his quarters, a timid, almost shy atmosphere around her. Zuko had lifted himself up and asked her if she was okay. Katara had nodded and fiddled around with her mother's necklace for a moment before shyly asking if he would mind if she slept in his room with him. Because of the nightmares, of course. No, he didn't mind at all. She had slipped into bed beside him and nestled herself against him, one cheek pressed to his bare chest. Her hand had settled over the star-shaped scar on his abdomen and he had run his fingertips across her shoulder. Her fingers caressed the ridges and grooves of the scar until she had fallen asleep.