Zuko's muscles tensioned at the sound of boots on the stone floor of the prison as they drew near, ready to spring up and rush the door if it opened. There was a brief flicker of hope for escape when a Dai Li agent appeared at the door of the cell, but that was snuffed when the agent only opened a hole in the rock of the cell and shoved a canvas knapsack through it. When it thudded to the ground, the agent looked at the Water Tribe girl with a curt, “Get changed,” before closing the hole and vanishing from sight.
The girl lunged forward, grabbing the pack and clutching it tight. Her brow wrinkled when she looked inside, the movement causing the painted gold moon to flake. “My clothes… Why did they…”
She wasn't talking to him but, before he could stop himself (and wasn't that the story of Zuko's life) he said, “It's probably so you're easier to identify if you…” he tried to think of the least distressing way to phrase it. He didn't want the girl to start crying again. “look like yourself.”
“Well, I'm not going to!” the girl spat, even as she gripped the pack like it was her only lifeline. Anger, Zuko supposed, was better than sorrow. Even if he was sure it would inevitably be turned back on him.
“If you don't, they'll probably come in here and make you,” he warned.
For a second, Zuko wondered if that could work in their favor. If a Dai Li entered the cell, they could jump him and either get the keys needed to escape or a hostage. But then he remembered the several points where Earthbending had been necessary to traverse the prison and discarded the idea. Besides, the Dai Li didn't seem like the type to get sentimental over their coworkers. But maybe…
Whatever train of thought his mind was about to go grinded to a halt when the storm of emotions crashed over the girl. Anger, embarrassment, horror, disgust all coalesced on her pretty face as she glared at him.
“What-” Zuko started to ask, only for the girl to cut him off.
“I can't change in here,” she hissed.
The redness in her eyes did nothing to detract from the appalled look she shot him. “You know why. I've heard the stories.”
Zuko snapped his eyes back to the wall in front of him, away from the girl. His face heated in shame, a duel sensation to the disgust that clenched his stomach. He knew the stories she was talking about. It didn't matter if the Fire Nation military supposedly held each member to a high standard of decorum that would prevent that from acting in such a grotesque way, Zuko was a fool about many things but even he wasn't stupid enough to think that thing didn't happen.
And now this Water Tribe girl -the same one he'd hunted, attacked and then spent a month fighting alongside of- was locked in a cell with him and clearly thought Zuko was capable of such an awful thing.
He swallowed, his mouth filled with a sour taste. Zuko wanted to tell her that he'd never do such a thing, that the very thought was repulsive, that even at his lowest, he would never consider the idea. He'd swear on his mother, his uncle, and what little remained of his tattered honor that Zuko would never -not even when they were truly enemies- allow that to be done to her. And that the only time one of his men had attempted it, they'd been met with a rare display of Uncle Iroh's fury. That man was a pile of bones on the sea floor now, and his men had learned to keep to ‘massage parlors’ for their pleasure whenever at port.
But would she believe him?
Zuko doubted it. And, even if she did, Zuko had never been eloquent enough to put all that into words.
So instead he turned and gave the girl as sincere of a look as he could manage. “I wouldn't look, Katara. I wouldn't do that.”
Katara… That was her name. He'd never said it out loud before but he liked the sound of it, the vowels long and smooth as opposed to the sharp, short sounds of traditional Fire Nation names.
He tried to ignore the soft scoff, even if it stabbed at his heart. But then Katara's face smoothed out just a bit more and Zuko wondered if that meant there was hope.
“Even if you wouldn't, that doesn't mean I want to change in front of-” she waved her hand at the cell's door with its open metal grating.
Zuko pressed his lips together, studying it. He could see the problem. The gaps were wide enough to stick a hand through, which meant anyone could see straight through. Even beyond that, Ba Sing Sa itself always made you feel like you were being watched. Down in this prison with its eerie, green crystal light beauty, that sensation was far worse.
He rose to his feet, trying to keep his movements slow and non-aggressive. Katara, who only two nights ago had left her back vulnerable to him and his swords, backed into a corner, never taking her eyes off of Zuko. So he gave her the widest birth possible until stopped in front of the cell door, facing away from Katara. He wasn't particularly tall or broad and Zuko had long feared he never would be, despite Uncle's insistence that he was following Ozai's growth patterns. But the door wasn't large either and, in this position, Zuko could block most of it.
The pause before the response was so long, Zuko hadn't been sure it was coming at all. The corners of his lips twitched upward. “Tell me when you're done.”
This time there was no reply but he heard the distinctive rustling of cloth as Katara began to change. Zuko's cheeks began to heat and he looked for something to distract his mind. His eyes slid over to the wall next to the cell door. The glow of the catacomb's crystals was soft and uneven, yet there was a vaguely person-shaped shadow cast on the stone all the same. When the shadow began to bend over, Zuko looked away. He decided to fix his gaze directly forward and count the crystal clusters on the wall across from the cell. It kept his thoughts from wandering.
Still, soon the quiet sounds of fabrics sliding against bare skin became too much and Zuko found himself asking, “Do you think they took yourself from your- from wherever you're staying?”
No need to make things more hostile by letting it slip that Zuko knew where she and her friends were living because he'd followed her back there on more than one occasion. It was a beautiful little estate, nothing compared to the splendor of the Fire National royal palace, of course, but clean and new-looking with a courtyard for the Avatar to train in Earth Bending with his new instructor and extra space for the massive sky bison to stretch out. There were also the walls that provided the illusion of privacy for the little group. Just the illusion though, as Zuko had found out first hand. If you were willing to climb up a story or two to the roof of a surrounding building, you could easily see whatever they were doing. Something that was certainly done on purpose by the enemies in the city that the Avatar was too stupid to see coming.
Zuko supposed that included him. After all, he'd spend plenty of time crouching on a rooftop waiting and watching as Avatar trained in the three elements he knew or tended to his bison, or the non-bender read through piles of books and scrolls, sharpen his weapons, tinker with bits of metal. He’d watch Katara as she practiced her own bending, usually on rainy days, something that -in a way- was more impressive than the Avatar's feats. Or when she sat at the windowsill of her bedroom to read, mend clothes, or brush her hair.
“No,” Katara said, the word sounding awkward. Like she didn't entirely want to say it. “This is the bag I stashed in the old maintenance tunnel I used to go through the rings so I could change at the end of the night. I figured it would be easier to explain why I was walking around alone at night as myself than as the Painted Lady.”
Katara didn't always make smart decisions. She sometimes slept with her window open, for example. And rarely noticed the attention she got on her solo -or, rather, less obviously supervised- trips through the Upper Ring's shops and attractions. Not noticing the Dai Li or other government tails was one thing, but pretty young ladies should have enough awareness of their surroundings to notice overly interested men. And, of course, she'd never noticed him.
Zuko turned around to see Katara was back in the blue Water Tribe garb he associated with her, complete with the blue disk necklace, and was scrubbing her face with the Painted Lady cloak. He'd only reluctantly admit to himself that he'd found himself curious about the necklace. He'd seen plenty of Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom style jewelry, and it looked nothing like either. More than once, Zuko had considered asking Uncle Iroh, who'd long been open about his interest in Water Tribe culture and Waterbending techniques, if he knew anything about it. But, in the end, showing that much curiosity in someone who wasn't the Avatar felt… wrong.
Katara let the cloak drop to the ground. Even in the cell's dim, colored lighting, Zuko could tell she hadn't managed to get all the face paint off. Her brow was still flaked with gold, the area around each eye was still rimmed with now-smudged khol, and the paint had stained stripes along the sides of her face and under her mouth. The stripes suited her. Zuko decided not to point them out.
She looked at him, lips pursed and eyes hard. She wasn't glaring anymore though, and her short, “Thank you,” didn't sound nearly as forced as her earlier words.
Zuko nodded and returned to the patch of ground he'd previously occupied. As he resumed staring at that wall, he decided that went as well as it could have. He wouldn't pretend this meant they were back to being partners on the nighttime streets of the Lower Ring but, at the very least, Katara hadn't attacked him when his back was turned.
Behind him, Katara let out a small gasp of surprise. When Zuko looked over his shoulder, he saw she was holding a brown water skin.
