9Title: Flicker
Disclaimer: Characters, etc. belong to Mike and Bryan. I write this purely for entertainment purposes.
Rating: K+
Summary: A follow-up to the Ember Island Players, in which there's lots of talk about hope. Unbeta'd.
Forgive me, for I don't know what I gain,
Alone in this garden of pain.
Enchantment has but one truth:
I weep to have what I fear to lose.
Gethsemane—Nightwish
Flicker
A warm breeze flowed through the summer air as Katara lightly padded across the deck, stopping just before the stoop and crossing her arms. The moon illuminated the front of the vacation home eerily, a desolate scene before her as she watched the leaves of palm trees sway to and fro, small creatures chirping into the night.
Darkness had fallen over the village several hours ago and the other occupants of the house had gone to bed shortly after their late dinner, after departing from the theatre house. Aang had continued to fume over his character portrayal; Sokka prattled on about the "special effects" (poor Suki enduring the brunt of it); Toph simply sat with a smirk on her face, ribbing each and every one of them; and Zuko had remained silent for the majority of their dinner. Katara had commented once in a while, glancing at intervals at the brooding Firebender and wondering of the storm brewing behind those molten eyes of his. When she removed her sights from Zuko and made her rounds around the table, she noticed Aang's gray eyes fixated on her, a steady stream of jealousy, anger, and some other emotion she couldn't place radiating off him. Not long after their tense eye contact, he stood from the table, declaring that he was finished, and stalked off down the hall and to his bedroom.
"What's eating him?" Sokka had pointed at the boy with the barren pigken drumstick in his hand.
"He's still mad about the play. Twinkletoes will eventually get over it." Toph then yawned, outstretching her arms and removing her feet—which Katara had scolded her to remove from the table earlier—and then stood. "Anyway, I'm pooped guys. Off to bed. Goodnight."
A chorus of 'goodnights' rang through the room and gradually the remaining people soon called it a night and retreated to their bedrooms, everyone except Zuko and Katara, who was cleaning up the kitchen.
"Do you need any help?" she'd heard his raspy voice from behind her. He reached beyond her and put the last of the dishes in the basin.
"Thanks, but I got it."
"You sure?"
"Yes, Zuko. I've been doing this for a long time. I know what I'm doing." She had been slightly annoyed yet perplexed by his needed reassurance, but she chalked it up to his current mood, as he usually took her answer in stride and left it at that. If she needed further assistance, she would call him back. Lifting her wet hands from the basin and drying them on the rag in her apron, she turned to him, frowning. "Is there something wrong, Zuko? You weren't very talkative at dinner."
"I'm never talkative at dinner," he stated from his spot where he leaned against the counter.
"Don't be like that. You know exactly what I mean." She put her hands on her hips. "You've been brooding since we got back from that stupid play."
"I am not brooding," his hands clenched against the counter-top, knuckles whitening from strain. Abruptly, he pushed himself from the counter and began heading toward the foyer.
"Where are you going?" she yelled, now rather irate.
"For a walk. Don't wait up." And with a loud thud, the door shut behind him.
Now a few hours later she stood outside on the deck, her body tense with concern and her teeth worrying a hole in her lip. She knew she was doing exactly what he asked her not to do, but she didn't care. He couldn't have gone too far, she surmised, stepping down the stoop and onto the concrete. But then again, he's been here before and probably knows all the little nooks and crannies of this place. Her instinct was to go look for him, but she only knew a small portion of the area and the way to the theatre house and a few grocery haunts. Zuko could've gotten anywhere in the hour he'd been gone. She didn't want to get lost while looking for the hot-headed Firebender nor did she want the others to wake up to find two members of their group missing and go into a panic. Sighing, she sat on the bottom step and waited. If he even thinks to come back at sunrise, he's getting the lashing of a lifetime.
As her head lolled on her shoulder, brushing against the railing, she heard the crunch of a twig and quickly jolted into a bending stance, startled by the sound. Standing with her arms raised in a tentative striking position, she slowly lowered them as she gazed into those damn eyes of his.
"Were you trying to give me a heart attack?" she hissed, arms lacing tightly across her chest.
"I thought I told you not to wait up?" he whispered just as fervently, lips now pursed in frustration.
"I-I was going to," she stumbled a bit, anger coursing through her, "but I didn't think your little walk would take so long! I know your upset about the play—
"—I am not upset about the play!"
"Oh, really? Then tell me why it took you two hours to go on such a mild-mannered walk, your Highness."
His face darkened and, not wanting to play this particularly game with her, tried to walk past her only to be blocked. He moved left, she moved right. He moved right, she moved left. So on and so forth this went until finally he just threw his hands up and began walking away from her toward the beach.
"Zuko!" she followed after him at a quick jog. The two teens eventually reached the hill that lead down to the beach, where the lulling crashes of the shore directly contradicted their current moods. "What is wrong with you?" She had now caught up to him.
He stopped in the middle of the path, almost making her to knock straight into him. He didn't bother to face her as he answered, "I don't want to talk about it. Go back to the house."
"No! Not until you talk to me." She grabbed his shoulder and attempted to pull him around, only for him to shrug her hand from off him. "I thought…"
"You thought what?" A heated glance at her and a trail of duck-goose pimples rose along her arms.
"I thought we had come to an understanding… after our little field trip."
His eyes didn't leave hers, and the moment seemed to go on for an eternity before he continued down the path. The anger remained, but not with the same intensity it held before, and she proceeded behind him, feet sinking into the dark sand.
She paused at the bottom of the hill, watching as he moved to sit on a rock near the edge of the shoreline. He picked up a stone from somewhere near him and threw it sidelong, the small piece skipping haphazardly across the water and sinking after six skips. As he went to find another rock, a smile found its way to her face as an idea manifested inside her head.
"You know, there's this old wives' tale in the Water Tribe, that however many skips a rock makes across the water, that's how many children one will have."
Zuko had stopped when she had begun to speak. "Is that so?"
"Mmm hmm." She winced slightly as she stepped on a stone protruding from the sand. Crouching, she dusted it off and extracted it, then flicked it out across the water.
"I guess that means three for you." He stood straight up now, no longer searching the sand. She noted that he had a handful of rocks and shells. Reaching a hand out, he offered, "Care to take another turn?"
"You first," she said, stepping toward him.
He lifted one flat stone from his hand, inspecting it thoughtfully and then threw it out at the water. She observed his lips moving silently as he counted before he declared, "Five."
"Does this wives' tale make the rocks add up?"
Katara's face belied her thoughtfulness. "I don't know. It's never addressed."
"We have a similar tale," he started, referring to the Fire Nation, "that if a candle flickers during a wedding ceremony, however many times it flickers is the number of children the couple will have. Though, I have heard this same tale applied to misfortune, too. If the candles snuff out before the end of the ceremony, a tragedy will befall the couple within a year's time."
"Why does everything here take such a dark turn on things that're supposed to be happy?"
"I guess because happiness is not often found here."
She noted how his face darkened considerably at this, seemingly recalling his own unhappy memories. It was momentary as he eventually straightened up and pulled his shoulders back, emitting a long, weary sigh. Katara received the same feeling she got in the cave, the downtrodden attitude, the unresolved anger of someone who's experienced too much in too little time. She understood to a point, but it was the hopelessness of his formerly slumped shoulders that left her reeling.
Swallowing her apprehension, she finally asked, "I know you're upset about the play, but that's all it was, Zuko. A play."
He eyed her, sighing. "It's not just a play, Katara. It's an attitude. An attitude that's going to remain long after Aang defeats..." He paused, seemingly lost in thought. "Long after Aang defeats Ozai." Zuko tossed the handful of rocks out at the water, the distinct kerplunk echoing eerily off the cliffside. "A century of indoctrination to reverse. That's not going to be an easy change."
"No one said it would be easy, Zuko, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try."
"We? Do you hear yourself, Katara? There's no 'we'. It's me. How do I go about incurring such a change? You saw the play! They hate me! My people cheered at my death!" He threw his hands up, exasperated. He returned to his seat on the large boulder protruding from the sand, that defeated hunch to his shoulders returning, and laid his head in his hands. "How do you know he'll even be able to do it?"
Eyes narrowing angrily, she stalked toward him, sand kicking up around her feet. "How dare you even say that? You have to have hope, Zuko! Or is that too hard a concept to grasp for someone who formerly would gladly exterminate entire nations?"
Within seconds, Zuko stood at his full height, mere inches from her—slits for eyes and a seething rage simmering beneath them. "I. Never. Wanted this. I have never condoned genocide. Whether you want to believe that or not is your choice. But I know my father and I know exactly what it'll take to stop him, and it doesn't exactly leave me full of your precious hope." He stalked away from her, roughly brushing against her shoulder as he past her.
She remained there for a long while, gazing out at the water and shuffling her feet in the dark sand. Noticing the sun rising in the distance and wrapping her dressing gown tighter around her, she sighed and began the trek back to the beach house. When she reached the house and entered, she made her way to her designated bedroom, stopping in the hallway a moment to look in the mirror. Her eyes were watery with unshed tears and lack of sleep, the hollowed half circles beneath them more pronounced than usual. She swiped the heel of one hand past each eye, and decided to sleep it off. The others could fend for themselves if they wanted breakfast.
Before she made it to her room, the door to her right peeked open and she saw him. Their expressions were identical, sleeplessness and unresolved tension coming off them in waves.
"Goodnight, Katara."
"I think you mean good morning," she stated irritably. Opting not to dig herself further into his angst (or their angst, she wasn't quite sure anymore), she made to take a step only to have a hand wrapped around her arm, stopping her. "Whatever you want, it can wait. I would like to get some sleep before the sun has completely risen," she tried to wrench her arm from his grip. "Let. Go."
"I'm sorry," he then whispered, keeping his voice low. She noted that it was raspier than usual, and she briefly wondered if he had actual slept a bit or had waited for her to return.
He came fully out of his room, letting go her arm and leaning against the door.
She rubbed her arm and was about to start to her room again, only to stop herself this time.
"Isn't there anything that gives you hope, Zuko?" The question was more rhetorical, and she honestly wasn't sure if she wanted to know his answer.
Not hearing him say anything, she walked away and finally reached her door. As she went to close the door behind her, she heard him say, "The fact you have hope gives me hope."