Katara yawned widely the next morning, shuffling her feet as the girls walked to the dining hall. They'd be having all their meals with the factory workers.
While Katara knew that all these men individually were not bad people, she still could not help the feeling of anger that was growing, festering, inside her stomach as she looked at them. Her hatred for this entire factory made it difficult to focus on much else, but at least it distracted her from how weary and exhausted she was.
She'd spent the whole night healing people and separating out mud from water, leaving buckets of clean water at doorsteps. Her fingers were aching and her head was pounding. She was starved.
Luckily, Ratana was also yawning so no one assumed anything amiss. Though, from the dark circles and her puffy eyes, Katara knew she'd likely been crying all night.
They got in line for food, and as Katara was waiting for some coffee, there was a commotion down the line. One of the factory workers was arguing with a cook.
"What do you mean there are no scrambled eggs, man? I always eat eggs!" he cried petulantly.
"I don't know what to tell you," the cook said tensely, rubbing his face. "We don't have any."
"But, you always have some!"
"Not today, alright? I must have misplaced the batch of eggs that we got the other day and some jerk down in town bought all the rest from that batshit insane man. No eggs today," he said firmly. "We're also out of lettuce if you're going to make a fuss about that."
A factory worker near Katara snorted, "Baby."
Katara got her food and sat at a table with some of the workers she'd 'befriended' last night.
As they were chatting lightly over their morning sustenance, a man tiredly slumped into a seat.
"Oh, he's one of the watchmen. His shift just ended," A worker informed Katara. "Anything good?" he teased, "Or boring as usual?"
"Actually," The watchman frowned, "It wasn't a usual night. There's some activity going down in that stinky little town."
Ratana perked up two tables over.
"Oh, really?" Katara said, encouraging him on, giving him a wide smile.
"Yeah. Don't know why they decided to get off their asses today, but it seemed like they were cleaning that old statue of their stupid goddess or whatever. Lots of people seemed...healthier." he said, shaking his head. "Like something just came in the night and healed a bunch of people. It's insane."
Ratana dropped her mug. "She heard my prayers!" she said.
Jin jumped up, grasping her mug from the floor. As she stood, she hugged Ratana and placed her head on her shoulder for just a second.
"Thank the spirits," Jin murmured, a soft smile bobbing on her lips. Avizeh was pleased too, and while it was clear the factory workers looked uneasy, no one dared argue with these beautiful girls in front of them.
Katara tiredly sipped her coffee, trying to hide the grin on her face.
XXxxXX
The day's activities took the girls on a tour of the facilities with an in-depth explanation of how the weapons were made. If Katara were not so put out with the entire factory, she'd find it terribly interesting. She tried to remember a bit of it, knowing that Sokka would have been like a kid in a candy store here. He'd always discussed wanting to make his own weapons, and he would have asked a million questions. There were times that Katara almost forgot she was supposed to be hating the factory, such as when they got to see hot steel being poured into the molds and Katara was asked to use her bending to help by pouring hot water over the steaming molds and it made such a satisfying sound, but she regained her stony composure when she saw how much waste was poured down the drain.
She knew where that drain went.
After the long tour, the girls were split off with some of the more artistically-talented members in the factory to create little metal coins for each of the remaining girls in the competition. From what they explained, it was Ozai's idea. The girls would receive thirty of these at the start of the masquerade and give them out to whomever they wanted, such as if someone managed to guess their identity beneath the mask.
At that moment, Katara understood what Ozai was doing.
The ball wasn't a scheme to get something in or out of the palace, but rather, it was one big smokescreen. For as much uncertainty as there was surrounding the airbenders, Ozai was throwing this on as a sort of 'look, how could we be near war or a revolution if I'm still throwing balls' sort of action. To give a token would encourage those that wanted to collect. It was just another chance to rub elbows with the truly rich and forget about all the other issues, and they were using the girls as centerpieces.
It wasn't as though that was different from usual, Katara considered.
Still, she was the least excited by this idea. The other girls seemed cautiously optimistic. It was innovative and unique and it gave some amount of power to the girls at the ball. They'd choose who they gave the tokens to, not the other way around.
The girls would sit with an artist and try to come up with tokens for each lady. Then, each of the four designs would be put in front of the one who was making the molds, and he'd choose the best (easiest, Katara understood) one to create. He did have to go about making eighteen of them by the ball's start, which was not that far away.
They were encouraged to think of an animal or a flower or something girly that described each contestant. Sometimes, it was easy for Katara to think of an idea. She may hate the people and the institution making these coins, but for most girls, she wanted them to have a good design. She wanted to honor her friends.
The easiest by far was Toph's, since her family had their own animal.
As the man Katara was bouncing ideas off of began to sketch within the small circle, he cleared his throat.
"Can I ask you a question? Is Lady Bei Fong-"
"No."
"No I can't ask you?" He looked up. "Or no as the answer?"
"Both."
"You don't even know what I was going to ask," he said, scoffing.
"Oh, but I do. It's a no," Katara bit out. She might be a bit annoyed with Toph presently, but she would still defend her honor.
"Hmm," the factory worker said, but Katara got the feeling he did not believe her.
The rest of the day was spent playing board games or playing instruments with the workers again. Katara stayed her time, and tried to be less obvious she was displeased.
As night fell, Jin revealed she was given a bottle of sake by one of the head factory workers and she invited the girls to her room. While part of Katara longed to be able to sit with these women and giggle about their days and get drunk from the sweet intoxications, she had a job to do.
Last night she'd done the easy sort of healing; broken bones, bruised ribs, collapsed lungs. She'd had plenty of practice with those sorts of things before. Plus, to encourage muscle or bones to stitch back together underneath skin, while unpleasant for the receiver, was not a difficult task. She just needed to focus her water there and it was simple.
You know what was harder? Healing illness and fever. There wasn't anything for Katara to latch on to. It was untouchable. Illness was an overall feeling and it was something she was not used to healing. However, this is what ailed most and she'd be a pretty shitty spirit stand-in if she couldn't do that.
She was not about to admit defeat.
Her first patrons would be Ratana's parents. Those two, who gave themselves to their town tirelessly, deserved to be able to continue doing so. Depending on how the night went and how confident Katara was, she even wondered if she'd be able to heal Dock. Was it possible for her to fix a brain that was shattered, the most abstract of illnesses there was?
She brushed the dirt off of her robes and painted her face, and as she slipped out onto her patio, she heard the girls laughing from one room over.
Ratana deserved some happiness. Let them have it, she thought. She did this so others did not have to.
XXxxXX
"You okay, Princess Katara? You look a little pale."
"Just tired," Katara said firmly. "Sorry, what were you talking about?" she asked, putting on her most interested face and leaned in, taking another gigantic drink of coffee.
Last night had been more exhausting than the first.
There were many times she'd wanted to give up. Times when she thought that maybe certain illnesses just could not be fixed or that she'd done all she could do. Times when she imagined she was not skilled enough and would have to leave the job half-done.
That was not in Katara's personality, however.
She was not sure if she'd healed everyone, but she knew she'd given her everything. It was clearly affecting her – she felt ill herself. Of course, she did; she'd spent the entire night using a lot of energy and had maybe nabbed an hour of sleep at the end of it. She was looking forward to the ride back to the Palace tomorrow, where there existed all the time in the world and it was as dull as Earth Kingdom mathematical presentations, so Katara could just sleep it off.
"Maybe if you're lucky, the Painted Lady will come and visit you tonight," the watch guard said with a hint of humor.
"More activity?" One of the workers turned to the guard who'd sat with them yesterday, surprise coloring his face.
"Yeah, I think she healed most of their sickness last night. Or the rest of 'em. They're practically ecstatic. They're throwing a festival, last I saw."
"All because of a spirit?" one guard said, scrunching his nose. "No one actually believes they exist...right?"
A few of his comrades around the table gave half-hearted shrugs. Katara scowled at him. Those who denied the existence of spirits were looking for bad accidents to befall them, or for a spirit to leave him out in times of need.
"Can you believe how much an entire village can be affected by one lady - I mean, spirit?" Katara asked. "I think it's fantastic."
"Sure," one of the guards said unsurely, "I mean, that town needs it. I hope she's around to stay."
"Huh?" Katara blinked.
"Well, the place will go right back to how it was if she skips a night of her voodoo," the guard said in a factual tone.
"You...they..." Katara floundered. "But look how much happier they seem!" she argued sharply.
"Yeah, today. Tomorrow it will be right back to how it was. People will continue to be sick. They can't afford food or water, no more than we can. I mean, seriously, this is just like patching a hole with tape. It's bound to come undone eventually."
Katara seethed in her spot.
As much as she wanted to punch this guy, he was right. She could fix to her heart's content, but without food or without water, and not a single delivery but something sustainable, it was all for naught.
"Maybe she'll use her spirit magic to make them immortal or something," the non-believer teased, wiggling his fingers.
"Spirit magic doesn't work like that, Chen!" the logical worker said, hitting him on the back of the head. "I think it's more like this," he said and waved his arms around. The pair broke into sniggers.
Katara stood up abruptly.
"Where are you going, Princess Katara?"
"I think perhaps I'll go see the infirmary," Katara lied, but in truth, she could not stand another second.
"That's for the best. You look awful."
In her heart, she knew that making everyone immortal was illogical. That couldn't be done. She had to protect these people after she'd left.
It was clear where the issue was stemming from, even as all the workers skirted around it. The factory was the root of the issue.
Which meant, simply, it had to go.
Before Katara could exit, there was great fanfare. Katara watched as Zuko came in, smiling and waving.
Ratana slipped up behind Katara, grasping her forearm hard. The other girls joined Katara's side, watching silently as Zuko said a few words and shook a few hands.
Soon, he'd turned his attention to the girls waiting.
"Prince Zuko, I need to talk to you alone," Ratana said. "Or, err, Katara can be there too. I want her there," she said, linking her fingers into Katara's.
"Later tonight-"
"No." Ratana might have a sharp wit, but she'd never used it on the Prince, nor taken this tone with him. "Now."
Zuko was so shell-shocked that he just blinked and nodded. "Alright...I uhm, follow me."
Katara would let Ratana talk. This was Ratana's town and her fight, even if Katara was aiding. Zuko led them to a meeting room. Katara sat silently and watched as Zuko motioned for her to speak, worry creasing his forehead.
Ratana started but immediately started crying.
"Should I-?" Katara started but Ratana shook her head.
"No, no! I can do it," she said and managed to take a few deep breaths.
The next half an hour was spent with Ratana describing in horrifying detail the state of her hometown. She spared no ugly truth from him, and Katara watched as Zuko's face grew clouded and dark as she spoke. Many times, Katara wanted to add something in, but that would mean admitting to Ratana that she was masquerading as the Painted Lady, as well as telling Zuko of her nightly trips and activities, some of which were illegal.
When Ratana had finished, Zuko sat for a moment. "I'm glad you told me about this. I'm quite disturbed by this account."
"What are you going to do?" Ratana asked. Zuko offered her a handkerchief and she accepted it, dabbing her eyes.
The answer was obvious, Katara thought.
But, Zuko shook his head. "I will have to think about that. But I assure you, something will be done."
Ratana seemed pleased by this, but Katara hardly was. The pair were excused back to their activities and Zuko had other things to be doing. After making sure Ratana really was fine, Katara doubled back to catch up with Zuko.
"Zuko!" she said, storming after him.
"You were unusually silent during that meeting, Katara," Zuko said. "I am surprised you had no opinions to add."
"You have to close down this factory. Now," Katara said firmly, pressing her hand into her fist. Zuko gave a light laugh.
"Ah, there it is."
"Is this a joke to you?" Katara demanded, "Something funny?"
"No! Spirits-" Zuko backtracked, eyes wide. "It's not that easy-"
Katara felt her mouth go dry. She pulled her emotions back in. She could stand there and fight until she was purple in the face, but Zuko was not going to listen or do anything worthwhile. He'd send them some food, maybe, and an apology.
If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.
"Of course, Prince Zuko," Katara said, lip quivering, "May I be excused from the day's activities? I'm feeling a bit ill."
Zuko inhaled, eyes concerned, and stepped forward to place a hand on her forehead. He rested it a moment longer than needed and seemed regretful when he pulled back. The feeling of his warm hand stayed in her memory.
"You are quite hot," Zuko said, then choked. "I mean...warm...ill...sick. Sickly," he said, nodding once. "Yes, go and rest in the hotel, please."
She felt her heart flutter at the tone underneath his attempt to be cordial. It was fear, for her, for this sickness.
She bit her lip, wanting to say more, but unsure what to say. Besides, she needed to go and rest up.
She had big plans tonight.
XXxxXX
Katara sliced across the padlock with her waterbending, catching the chains before they clattered to the ground. She hid against the wall of the factory as a searchlight roamed over the uneven grass, highlighting the space an inch away from her toes.
Silent as a feather falling on snow, she slid into the factory.
The steam caused her to sweat immediately. She knew that they warmed and heated the metal during the night to pour during the day, with only a skeleton crew around to make sure there were no accidents.
There would surely be a few tonight.
She came to the first vat, her plan being to flood the entire factory. Destroy their material. Mangle it, make it unusable and completely unfixable.
She pulled water from the damp air, making it a sharp water-whip. Just as she was about to create the first blow, righteousness digging deep in her heart, there was a low laugh.
She spun, furious and terrified, just as someone said:
"I knew it."
"You!" Katara hissed, storming up to Zuko, pressing an ice-knife against his throat. "What are you doing here?"
It was only as she focused on him in his entirety that she realized he was not wearing nightclothes or Prince clothes, but his Blue Spirit ensemble. The mask was pushed upon his head, his swords dropped by his feet.
"Are you going to turn me in?" she asked in a cold tone, tilting her head, "Or just here to watch?"
Zuko's eyes flickered to the knife as though to say, 'so we're threatening princes now', but he did not resist her. She knew he could. This in itself made her release her grip, just an inch.
"Well," Zuko said in a low tone, "When I arrived, the first thing I heard from the head of the factory was about some odd things going on in the town below. About how their sick were being healed, how they now had food and water, and how they were praising the Painted Lady. Funny how she appeared right when we did?" Zuko said, raising an eyebrow. "And I had the thought...hmm, that seems like something Katara would do. Then, after you and Ratana talked to me, you gave up your argument much too quickly. Suspiciously quickly. And I thought, damn, she's not going to something stupid and illegal, is she? But, here we are."
"More than you're doing," Katara spit, stepping back. "You're going to let those people down there die to protect your precious metal workers!"
"Despite what you think, I cannot just snap my fingers and close down a factory!" Zuko said. "I'm not the Fire Lord, I don't have that sort of power! Did you honestly think I'd do nothing?"
Katara did not want to think so, but she gave a grumpy shrug.
"Katara...I was finding a solution. The people down there aren't just my people, so are the people here. I'm not trying to choose one over the other! Most of these people are just workers. Low-class, pay-day to pay-day workers with families they haven't seen in years! They aren't choosing to purposefully do this, they don't have a choice!" Zuko said. "I have to do the best thing for both groups."
"One group is inches from death!"
"So, what, you're going to..."
"Destroy this place," she said.
"You know what happens if you break that there?" Zuko asked, pointing to the steaming tank, "It spills down, probably through the floor. Do you know what's below us?"
Katara blinked, unsure.
"Bunks. You'd be killing hundreds of innocents and yes," Zuko held up a hand before she could argue, "They are innocent."
"So you're going to drag me away then?"
"I'm here to help. Prince Zuko cannot destroy a factory, but the Blue Spirit can," Zuko said, grinning.
Katara stared at him, flabbergasted. He saw her face and laughed. "You thought you'd get all the fun, huh?"
"But you just...said..."
"I was going to suggest you're not so obvious about it," Zuko said. "I mean, c'mon...you steal a crate of eggs and a crate of eggs arrive in town? I'm surprised that you haven't started a civil war, Katara," he said, a hint of aggravation in his tone. "You destroy this in a clearly obvious way, who do you think the workers will blame? A spirit?"
He shook his head, pulling his mask back over his face. He motioned for Katara to follow. He led her to the boiler room and picked the lock with his swords and the door swung open. He confidently walked over to one of the pieces of machinery that kept half of the foundry chugging away.
"If we corrode the pipes away here and let water in, it will fry the mechanics and it will shut down all of the machinery. It would take weeks to fix, but I'll have a solution by then." He shrugged. "It's not boom-flashy, but it works. It will work," he said, nodding to Katara.
Katara wasn't sure she believed him, but she focused on the water inside the pipes. She worked to freeze the water, making it push against the metal pipes. She could feel the resistance and tightened her grip. She was shaking by the time she burst the innards, and she released the water back to liquid form.
There was a spark and a hissing noise as smoke rose from the machine. The sound of the factory lessened; Katara ran back out to the walkways to see one-quarter of the factory cease to move. It was like someone had just paused it.
"One down, three to go," Zuko said.
Katara nodded, throwing herself back into work. By the time she was finished, all the machinery in the building had stopped its movement and the temperature had dropped twenty or so degrees, the fires having snuffed out and the metal cooled. Katara made sure to internally fry a couple other pieces of equipment, but it was much easier and more effective than her original plan, she was ready to begrudgingly admit.
"Now, nothing will tie back to you," Zuko said teasingly, poking her shoulder. "And tomorrow the factory will close. I just had to figure out a reason. The cost to fix this place will be astronomical and I'm sure my father will see the logic in shuttering the doors. Plus, I've lined up jobs for the workers, so they're not out of a job."
He led her to a trap-door. She followed, up onto the roof with him. Now, as the smog from the factory was disappearing, Katara could see the hint of a full moon peeking out behind the clouds.
"You didn't really do much," Katara said, "I believe I did the heavy lifting."
"I came early and looked up the schematics of the machinery to make sure it would work! I had to break into like five rooms." Zuko made an affronted nose. "Plus, I had to make sure you weren't about to be tried for treason."
He leaned against a smoke-stack. He lifted his arm, inviting Katara to sit next to him.
It was hard to pretend she was still completely mad at him, and hard to ignore this night, where things seemed like they might just be alright.
She slid into the space he offered.
"And the town?" she asked. From their vantage, it was a speck on the brown expanse.
"I figure that you can go down tomorrow and teach the people how to clean the rivers. With the factory gone, it will be easier. It will take time, but soon they'll be able to fish from there again. Build an economy. In the meantime, the Fire Nation will provide aid. They'll be alright," he assured, leaning against her so that his head rested on the crown of hers.
"Good," Katara said softly, "That's all I wanted."
"Oh, come on, you liked it," He teased. "You like the thrill of it all."
Katara sat her hat to her side and lifted his mask off, noticing how his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were darkened. "It doesn't just seem to be me," she said, fingernails trailing lightly over his cheek. "Prince Zuko, does destruction of property, breaking and entering, and criminal activity turn you on?" she asked, moving so that she was kneeling in front of him, her legs over his leg that was stretched out.
Zuko laughed, trailing the edge of his tongue over his teeth. "Kettle black, Katara," he said, but did not deny it. He leaned in, digging his black gloves into her hair, pulling her in to kiss him. He did so hungrily; as though he were starving and she was an apple in a desert. Katara pulled herself onto his lap, pushing herself closer to him, refusing to have an inch of space between the pair.
One of his hands dropped to her thighs, digging into her skin and shoving up the fabric that pooled around her. Goosebumps raised on her leg as it was exposed to the cool night air.
Zuko leaned back against the smoke-stack, moaning as he bucked up into Katara. His breath was warm as she nipped his lips, a shiver running down her spine, need coursing through her.
If she were going from the competition soon, shouldn't she go out in a bang?
As she was about to lift her dress over her head, the moon revealed itself completely from the clouds.
She froze, pulling back and breathed sharply.
It was very obvious in that moment where she was and what she was doing; about to disrobe on top of Prince Zuko on the edge of the roof of the factory they'd just destroyed. The terrifying thing was that the moon, as it often did, urged her on and made her feel like a different person. Like a person who would do this.
Zuko's face was smeared with white and red paint. He seemed to realize where the pair was, as well.
"Uhm..." he said, the fog clearing from his gaze.
Katara sat back on her haunches, breathing heavily. She'd begun to pull up his shirt, or it had rolled up in the mess of hands traveling all over, and his stomach was on display. She swallowed hard, looking down.
She'd of course seen Zuko shirtless before, and knew that he had more scars than just the obvious one. She had really only ever asked about the one on his face, all the others fading away into obscurity. There was one that she'd unearthed, near his rib-cage, and the puckered edge of it was illuminated by the moon's beams.
Katara touched it gently and she felt Zuko's abs harden beneath her touch.
"Where, uhm, what was this from?" she asked, trying to find a reason to stop what they were doing. And, she was actually curious.
Zuko covered his hand with her own, his fingers trailing the length of it.
"I'm not sure, to be honest," he said, blinking. "Well, I mean...it's been there for as long as I can recall. Never healed exactly right. My mom says when I was three I was playing with some swords left out when my dad was in a meeting and managed to get myself good."
Katara grinned at the idea of it, chuckling. "Ouch."
"Yeah. Luckily I guess, I don't remember it happening. I've always just grown up with it there," he said. "None of my scar stories are that exciting, not battle-worthy. Just stupid shit."
"Even that one?" Katara asked, her gaze flickering up to his facial scar.
Zuko winced visibly and Katara regretted even bringing it up. "That one especially," he said, his voice low and gravelly, "Stupid, but worth it."
Katara pressed her lips together. "Are you going to tell me one day?" She wasn't trying to press him, but she was curious since he'd said it wasn't how she imagined it. Her curiosity was piqued even more so. However, she understood that this was delicate, more so than recalling an incident with a katana in his youth.
"I hope so," Zuko said honestly. "We should probably sleep. In our own beds. Right now," he said, quick to clarify. Katara swallowed, knowing it was best.
She let Zuko walk her back to her hotel room. But, she was not ready to sleep.
She was itching in a way she couldn't describe. It was partially from Zuko and from that want, but there was something else bothering her.
Why had the real Painted Lady forsaken this town?
She did not know what she planned on doing, but Katara was pulled out of her bedroom window for the second time that night.