Chapter Text
As they fly away from Ba Sing Se, numb horror slowing seeping into each of them, Katara frantically bends the spirit water from her necklace.
There is some part of her mind that is screaming that she just watched her best friend, the boy she…. Aang die. That he must be dead, there’s no way anyone could survive lightening being blasted through them, spine to heel like that, it feels like she left her stomach somewhere in those caves in her rush to fly across the room to catch him because he was falling- he is so still and small in her arms and….
If this works, she thinks hysterically as she bends the water to the stomach-turning burn on Aang’s back, I will never say a bad word about being forced to study in the healing huts again. I will go back to the North Pole and commit myself to the study completely if this saves his life, please, please, please-
Aang’s tattoos light up briefly and he groans. She sobs in relief as he meets her eyes for a moment before passing out again as she pulls him close. But breathing and alive.
“He’ll live.” She tells the others, wiping at her face with her free hand as she holds him upright with her other arm.
Toph’s tight grip on the saddle relaxes slightly, the terror on her face fading. In front of them, Sokka’s shoulders slump in relief. The King still seems to shellshocked to acknowledge much. For now, the even breath she can feel under her hand and against her neck is enough to steady her.
/
Aang opens his eyes to find himself sitting across a pai sho board from Monk Gyatso, who is considering his next move and stroking his mustache.
Aang blinks. He… can’t remember how he got here or what his last move was. It’s like he missed catching his glider, the odd swoop caught in his stomach. Like he’s supposed to be somewhere else.
“Something on your mind, Aang?”
He looks up at Gyatso’s calm face. The odd catch in his stomach turns into a swell in his chest like he’s going to cry.
“I…. I’m not sure. I forgot.”
“Well, maybe concentrating on the game at hand will help the wandering thought return.”
Aang shoots him a small smile and looks down at the board. He doesn’t recognize the shapes on any of the tiles. He frowns.
Something floats by the window. Aang looks up and blinks at the odd shape. It’s gone as quickly as it came, but it hadn’t been a bison. The nagging thought bubbles up again, and he refocuses on Gyatso.
“I’m not supposed to be here right now.”
“Is that so? Where are you supposed to be?”
Gyatso slides one of his tiles across the board. It has an image of a lightning bolt on it. Aang’s foot aches suddenly and he rubs it.
“I’m… not sure.”
It sounds like thunder in the distance, but the sky outside is blue and clear. Perfect for flying. But no gliders swoop by. Aang frowns again, a hand absently coming up to rub at his chest. It feels tight, like taking a breath is suddenly impossible.
To the side of the board, Gyatso pours some tea, handing a cup over to Aang. He lifts it to take a sip, then pauses. He can’t pinpoint what’s wrong at first.
Then he realizes that the tea, though it’s steaming and a pleasant clear green color, isn’t hot. It’s not cold either, it feels like… nothing. There’s no smell from the cup either and the steam rising out of it leaves no impression on Aang’s face. He sets the cup down suddenly.
He stares at the lightning bolt tile.
“Gyatso, I think-“ he says slowly, still staring at the tile. “I think I’m dead.”
Gyatso quirks an eyebrow at him, lowering his hands and cup of tea.
“What makes you think so?”
“Because…” Aang pauses, the horrible grief from before crystalizing and sitting like a stone in his chest. “you’re dead.”
Gyatso nods.
“Ah, I see your dilemma.” He smiles gently at Aang. “But you are not quite dead, no.”
“What am I then?”
Gyatso sets aside his tea and folds his hands.
“Somewhere in between.”
“What should I do?”
Gyatso hums, considering, sliding another tile along the board before tapping it lightly.
“It would seem to me that you must choose to make a move.”
Aang sighs, slumping.
“I don’t know what moves there even are to make.” He stares at the board again, then sits up. “In pai sho, you said that there are always at least two moves any piece can make.”
He reaches out to touch a tile near him. “You can move forward-“ He slides it along the line. “-or backwards.”
“But you cannot stay still.” Gyatso finishes.
Aang thinks for a moment.
“So, I can either move forward-“ He glances to his right, out the door. He can see some of the monks passing by in the courtyard, light laughter drifting through the air. He swallows the lump in his throat. “-or go back.”
He looks back down at the board to find that it’s turned into a miniature version of Ba Sing Se, like Toph’s sandcastle.
Toph. Sokka. Suki.
Katara.
He’d forgotten them. He jumps to his feet, then hesitates. Gyatso watches him with an enigmatic smile.
Aang looks at the small city, then back to the distant sounds and view of the temple.
The temple, with the monks safe and well and not gone. His people. He could stay.
“Whatever choice you make,” Gyatso says gently. “it is yours alone.”
“You’ll… You’ll still be here later, right?” Aang says, clenching his fists.
Gyatso nods and Aang takes the couple of steps needed to fling himself at the older monk for a hug. Gyatso hugs him back tightly. Aang doesn’t know how long they sit there, but there suddenly a feeling like someone has grabbed the back of his robe and is yanking him away. He tries to hold on tighter, but Gyatso slips away from his hands and…
…he wakes up in Katara’s arms, pain surging through his body. He’s aware enough to smile at her before she hugs him tightly. When he slips unconscious again, it’s a mere peaceful darkness.
/
It’s a full two weeks after Aang nearly dies when he does something beyond breathing.
Katara has taken to sleeping on a mat next to his bed, unable to bear being away, because what if, what if… she doesn’t like thinking about it.
Aang whimpers and shifts slightly. Katara nearly drops the plate of lunch she’d been eating in her haste to get to the other side of the room.
“Aang?”
He doesn’t respond. She places her hand on his forehead to find it fever-hot and damp with sweat. Her heart sinks. An infection of some sort must have set in.
His eyes fly open suddenly, looking around wildly. Katara grabs his shoulders to hold him down when he makes to move. His chest heaves. Aang finally focuses on her, but his gaze is fever-bright and glazed over. Between the soft fuzz of hair on his scalp and the flush of his skin, he looks unlike himself.
“Am I dead?” He rasps.
“No, no, but it was close. I brought you back with the spirit water.”
To her surprise, he goes limp, sudden tears streaking from the corners of his eyes.
“Why?” He whispers.
“What?” She doesn’t understand.
“Why did you have to bring me back?” His voice is thick through the tears. “I was with them, we were happy again, why couldn’t I stay this time-“ His voice cracks and he seems unable to continue.
Katara is frozen for a moment, her own throat closing up in sympathy. She turns and quickly puts together a tea with plants she’d foraged on the islands they’d stopped at. She forces herself to focus on making the medicine and not the small, torturous sounds coming from the bed.
“Here, here drink this.” She says when she finally has a cup brewed. Aang weakly tries to twist away from the cup at his lip, but she braces his shoulders, tipping his head back over her arm. “There we go, this will help.”
Or at least knock him out again long enough for a healing session. The tears and feverish jitters slow until he’s asleep on the bed again. She lets out a long breath. Then she pulls out her healing water and slowly works to find where the infection had taken root.
It's only after she is finished and satisfied that she allows herself to sit down and cry. (In this too, she limits herself- she thinks that if she doesn’t force herself to stop after a few minutes that she might never stop.)
Later, after he’s woken and been caught up on everything that happened while he healed, Aang finds her on the deck of the ship. It’s late, only them and a few night watchmen awake. Katara stares up at the moon, watching the light play on the water. Aang’s footsteps are oddly heavy on the boat, gait uneven to compensate for his burned foot.
He leans on the rail next to her. They stand silently for a moment, taking in the ocean.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asks quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“I know that Azula hit me with lightening,” he clarifies. “but what did that do to me?”
“As far as I can tell, it… hit you in your back and exited out your heel. You might have some stiffness in that leg for a while. The burns are mostly on the surface, thankfully. There were a few days where you had an infection and ran a fever, but I managed to isolate it. It will take some time, but you should feel fine eventually.”
“An infection?” Aang frowns. “You didn’t mention that before.”
“The physical kind, not a spiritual kind, not to worry.” Katara reassures him. “You were feverish and babbling for a few days, but it cleared up quickly.”
Aang turns to face her.
“What did I say?”
“Hmm?”
“You said I was babbling, but that didn’t sound good.”
“Oh, it was, y’know, mostly nonsense. Fever talk.” Katara waves a hand airily.
“And the part of it that wasn’t nonsense?”
Katara falters. They know each other too well for her to lie.
“I know you didn’t mean any of it, and it’s fine, I know-“
“What did I say?”
“It’s nothing, really-“
“It upset you, so it’s not nothing.”
Katara sighs, knowing that he won’t let it go now.
“When you first woke up again, you had a high fever and didn’t know where you were. I don’t know if you recognized me or not. You-“ She hesitates, glancing at him. “you weren’t happy with me for bringing you back.”
“What? Why?”
“You said that you’d been with-“ She swallows hard, trying to clear the sudden lump in her throat. “-with the other airbenders. That you’d been happy with them and upset that I’d taken you away.”
Aang looks horrified for a moment then concerned. He looks like he’s about to pull her into a hug, but thinks better of it with a wince.
“Katara, I-“
She reaches out and squeezes his hand.
“It’s okay, Aang. I know.”
They sit quietly together and watch as the sun comes up over the waves.