#learned outside of air you think he wouldn’t have took bumi to sokka for formal training

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The way they should at the very made s2 of lok abt korra and the crew going on a journey to relearn the elements and maybe she meets the lion turtle and diss a way to give ppl back their bending back because it was just block by chi bending and at the end it would lead to her giving lin and everyone their bending back if they wanted it back then it would lead into the next season which the conclusion would be the air bending boom or he giving back power could bring the boom on.

[kdinthecity]

Unexpected

OK, I did not expect this one to come out so angsty! This is for Day 7: Unexpected Visits, and it’s super sad! I’m just warning you. I promise I will follow with Day 8: Spice where Katara visits a sex shop... ooh fun!

I’m actually writing this one in another author’s universe. So, if you don’t like mine, go read hers because it’s way better. So @until-my-last, I hope this is worthy of your awesome Zutara fic, Time Heals Wounds.

Did I warn you that it’s sad? Also, it’s Kataang. I know! So sad! And no cheating, only bonding between Katara and Zuko. Like serious bonding. Oh, and Ume is Zuko’s wife, an OC from Time Heals Wounds.

There were lots of things about turning thirty-five that Katara hadn’t expected.

 First, the recovery after her last pregnancy. It had been hard. Harder than she expected. Harder than the other two. It took much longer for her to feel normal again. And she was unexpectedly relieved when Tenzin weaned. Like this whole baby thing was just so taxing on her—physically and emotionally—and she would be juuuuuuust fine to be done with it.

 But she knew Aang would want more.

 She didn’t expect to get pregnant again so soon, though.

 Her hormones were such a mess, but she really did want to hit him when he said, “That’s great news, Katara! Another chance for an airbender!” It didn’t help that he said it in front of Bumi. Who by now had passed the age where bending ability was typically revealed—or not.

 Tenzin had been such a fitful baby that she was almost certain he’d turn out to be an airbender. The same week she found out she was pregnant, he learned to walk—no, wander. Her little nomad child, she’d come to think of him. Except that she was so very tired in these early stages of pregnancy that she didn’t want to chase a toddler. Surely this had been easier with Bumi and Kya, hadn’t it?

 It was also the same week that Aang was called away to weeklong peace proceedings in Ba Sing Se. The Earth Kingdom was worse than the Fire Nation at maintaining the peace, she decided. They always needed Aang’s help. Then again, King Kuei was no Fire Lord Zuko. And Zuko would probably not ask for help even if he needed it.

 But then her dear friend did ask for help—when she least expected it. And he was there to offer help—when she unexpectedly needed it.

Aang’s one-week trip turned into three weeks which wasn’t altogether unexpected. She would’ve graciously accepted this as typical Avatar duty, if only she hadn’t been so tired—and hot. Did she have these hot flashes last time? It wasn’t even summer, yet. At some point, bending away her own sweat wasn’t worth the energy or the effort.

 Thankfully an air acolyte took a break from her ceaseless praying to lend a hand with the kids. Katara knew she would never have that kind of devotion. Aang probably deserved someone who did. And someone who didn’t resent the idea of having another baby.

 Surely these thoughts were just the hormones talking. She loved her children. And she loved this new life inside her just the same. Didn’t she?

 “Uncle used to say that if you frown too much, your face will stick that way.”

 Katara nearly fainted. But not from hormones. From the sound of his voice.

 “Zuko! What are you doing here?”

 “Well, I realized that I’ve never met Tenzin. So it’s been over a year. And Izumi wanted to see Bumi and Kya. It’s dreadfully boring at the palace.” His tone was uncharacteristically upbeat. The crease in his brow gave him away.

 “No siblings, yet?” It was a personal question that she disliked when people asked her. Especially since she heard no airbenders, yet, instead. But this was Zuko, her best friend. Surely he wouldn’t take it personally.

 Except that unexpectedly, he did, thus confirming her suspicions. “Ahhh, no—um…”

 “Zuko, what is it? Is Ume OK?”

 “She’s uhh—well, we’ve tried, of course. But I think something’s wrong. Not with that. I don’t care about that. She’s just tired all the time. And short of breath. Do you think you could…?”

 “Of course, Zuko. I’d be glad to take a look. Is she here?”

 “No. She didn’t feel up to the journey. I—of course, we have plenty of room for your family at the palace. Come whenever is convenient. Stay as long as you like.”

 “Aang is in Ba Sing Se right now, but when he gets back…”

 A flurry of activity interrupted their conversation. Bumi practically tackled Zuko with a laughing Kya trailing him. Ten-year-old Izumi then appeared with a drooly Tenzin perched on her hip. Katara marveled at how much the young firebender had grown, her childlike features fading into a womanly beauty. There were definite traces of Zuko in her appearance, but glimpses of Ume, too.

 “I heard you’ve been training with the sword, Master Bumi.” Zuko ruffled the seven-year-old’s crazy crop of hair.

 “Yes sir, but I’m hardly a master. I sometimes train with Uncle Sokka… when he’s not busy.”

 “Hmm, you need a master, don’t you?” Zuko’s eyes flickered to Katara, but she didn’t have a good answer to his unspoken question. She taught Kya waterbending, but it was true that Bumi’s own training had been neglected.

 “Yes sir.” The disappointment in the child’s voice was answer enough, though.

 “Tell me, Bumi, have you ever fought with two swords?” Zuko redirected.

 The boy’s chin lifted, and his eyes sparkled. “Like at the same time? That’s impossible!”

 “Well, you have two hands, don’t you?”

 Katara fought the urge to say that her son might not have two hands after swordfighting lessons with Zuko. She could tell, though, by the way his eyes lit up and how Izumi rolled hers that he didn’t get to do this often, if ever.

 So Zuko went off with Bumi, Izumi and Kya practiced their bending moves together, and Katara put Tenzin down for a nap. Suddenly it was very quiet, and she had time for herself. It was most unexpected, and she honestly didn’t know what to do with herself. She decided to prepare the guest room for their unexpected visitors in hopes that they would stay awhile.

 Later that evening, a giddy, sweaty Zuko shooed her out of the kitchen and offered to make dinner. It was such an unusual gesture. Aang never made dinner. She didn’t even expect Zuko to know how to cook. He was royalty, after all. The bigger surprise, though, was that he cooked them meat. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed it—how much it reminded her of home. She didn’t dare ask where it came from, although Bumi answered soon enough.

 “Mom, Fire Lord Zuko took me hunting!”

 “Oh, he did, did he?” She shot her friend a look of warning. It was one thing to teach Bumi the swords, but hunting encroached on their family values.

 Zuko just shrugged. “It wasn’t really hunting. The animal was already hurt, so we kinda… put it out of its misery? I’m a terrible hunter anyway. I couldn’t hit a moving target if I tried.”

 Somehow Katara doubted that. She was about to expound on her reprimand, but Izumi spoke first.

 “Ew, Dad. Can we not talk about our food like that?” She made a fake choking sound. “I think I’m going to become a vegetarian.”

 “Cool. Can we trade families then? Because I want to eat meat everyday!” Bumi popped another bite into his mouth, beaming proudly as he did.

 It was a most unfortunate time for “morning” sickness to hit. Katara quickly excused herself from the table. She didn’t expect Zuko to follow her.

 “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“ He held back her hair. He actually held back her hair. She held back her tears.

 After she had recovered, both from the retching and repressing, he continued in a calm and soothing voice, “I didn’t mean to make you sick. I didn’t think… of course, if you never eat meat—“

 “No, Zuko, it’s not your fault. I-I’m pregnant.”

 “Oh.”

 She couldn’t read his expression much like she could read her own emotions in that moment, either. She wondered why he had to be so nice, so helpful, so… perfect. Scarred, yet flawless.

 That was ridiculous, though. Nobody was perfect. The only reason people would overlook each other’s imperfections was if love had made them blind.

 Suddenly, Katara saw the situation all too clearly.

 “I’m tired. I’m going to bed. You and Izumi are welcome to stay, of course. Just make yourself at home.”

 “I’d prefer not to travel at night if that’s alright. We’ll head back first thing in the morning. I appreciate your hospitality.”

 His tone was so formal and his expression so stiff, it was like she was talking to the Fire Lord and not a dear friend. Had he also noticed the shift that had occurred between them, albeit subtle? She couldn’t very well sort through these muddled thoughts and emotions, not in her current state. Perhaps it would be best if she slept through his departure the next day.

 Little did she know what darkness lie ahead in the night and what new light would be cast on their relationship by morning.

 She expected to drift right to sleep, but a slight cramping sensation kept her awake. She blamed it on the meat… at first. Then the pain intensified. Then there was blood. Then water—her hands coated in it, glowing, healing. Then stillness. Then screaming.

 She almost felt like she was outside of herself watching the scene unfold. This couldn’t be happening. No. This wasn’t happening.

 She must have fallen asleep at some point because she woke up the next morning in his arms. She remembered what had happened, but she didn’t remember him.

 “Zuko, wha—“

 “Shhhhhh. It’s OK.”

 Her throat felt raw, so she knew she had been crying—a lot. Still, she managed, “I k-k-killed my baby.”

 Zuko tightened his grip on her shoulders. “What!? Of course you didn’t! These things… just happen. It’s nobody’s fault. You even tried to save your baby. I saw your healing water.”

 She sighed deeply and buried her face in his chest. “But I d-d-didn’t want to be pregnant again. Not so soon. Not when Aang—“ She couldn’t finish. It sounded too selfish to say out loud. But the pressure had become so overwhelming. She couldn’t promise airbending heirs to her Avatar husband no matter how much she wanted to—no matter how hard she tried. She felt like a failure of a wife—and a mother.

 She saw Zuko’s jaw clinch, and she knew what he must be thinking. She didn’t want to portray Aang in a bad light. It certainly wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t even here.

 That’s right. He wasn’t here.

 But Zuko was.

 She nestled deeper into his warmth, his comfort. It was what she needed, and she admitted to herself that she needed it from him. Somehow she knew that Aang would grieve the loss of their child, the chance at another airbender. He would grieve for her. But Zuko—he would grieve with her.

 I’m sorry. That’s something we have in common. It seemed like only yesterday that he’d spoken those words in a cave full of glowing green crystals.

 “It gets easier,” Zuko said suddenly.

 “What?” His words shook her from her reverie.

 “S-s-sorry. That’s not very comforting, I know. I shouldn’t have—“

 “Ume,” she whispered before she realized the name had escaped her lips. The same thing must’ve happened to her—to them. Guilt overtook her. She shouldn’t be here clinging to Zuko when he had a sick wife back at home. She quickly released him and moved away from the bed.

 “Katara, I’m sorry if I did something wrong, I—“ There was pain in his voice and sadness in his eyes, like he was still very much the boy in the cave. But he wasn’t, and they had come so far since then. They were closer than she’d ever expected to become with someone from the Fire Nation, a former enemy, the Fire Lord, even.

 “No, Zuko, it’s fine. You’re… I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve been… perfect.”

 She reached out to take his hand and gave it a small squeeze. Her gaze then drifted to the stained bedsheets, and her vision blurred with tears. A warm hand cupped her face, and a calloused thumb swiped across her wet cheek. His touch felt nice, but as she leaned into it, confusion and clarity struck her once again.

 “Zuko, why are you here?”

 “Because I heard you screaming in the night.”

 “No, I mean, why are you here?”

 “Oh. I came to ask you for help.”

 Yes, of course. She sighed and pulled away.

 “And because I wanted to see you.”

 His statement and his smile were so genuine that her tears flowed freely now. There was something so painfully beautiful about this moment they shared together. She would never want to relive it, but she would cherish it all the same. She shuddered at the calm comfort of his next words.

 “Hey. You go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll take care of cleaning up in here. OK? Then, you get some rest, and I’ll get some breakfast ready for when the kids wake up.”

 Yet again, unexpectedly perfect. Or perhaps perfectly unexpected?

 With Zuko, it was always a little unclear.