Work Text:
Hassle
“Why don’t we just throw the scroll away since you’re so naturally gifted?”
༄.° ༄.° ༄.°
When Aang was a kid, he remembered the awe on some of his friends’ faces at the sight of him performing airbending tricks beyond his years. He remembered the smiles of Monk Gyatso as he told him it was essential he didn’t overexert himself and had fun learning the element while also encouraging Aang to ignore the limits that were defined by ones who’ve come before them all and find his own boundaries.
The other monks who observed his progress—which now he knew was also the result of them knowing he was the Avatar—watched as he advanced quickly among his peers, surpassing them far too early. While his friends started displaying accidental bursts of airbending around the age of four, Aang could already intentionally harness this innate ability to aid him with very mundane stuff. When he accidentally passed through the airbending gates successfully at five-years-old, the monks called him a prodigy with kind smiles on their faces and a glint in their eyes.
But being a prodigal airbender wasn’t going to help him now that he had to learn all four elements. In less than a year, by the way.
Aang sat on the riverbank, legs pulled up against his chest, arms wrapped around them and chin on his knees. His eyes were locked on the water as it streamed on and on, flowing peacefully down its path. A little further into the cover of trees was Sokka who was practicing with his boomerang while occasionally cheering for himself. And off to Aang’s right was Katara, her stance slightly too rigid as she practiced her waterbending with the scroll.
He tried not to stare at her as she attempted to manipulate the water. Because looking at her reminded him that he ought to be working as hard as she was on his waterbending. And while it had been a soothing idea two days ago, now he was wary of trying. Because what if it was just beginner’s luck that had allowed him to perform the bending forms until now? What if he tried again and it proved to be insanely difficult? How was he supposed to learn this brand new form of bending in such a short time frame while also maintaining his airbending and learning earth and fire as well?
And if Aang did successfully bend the water again, would he invoke Katara’s wrath again? Was it stupid of him to fear the idea so much? Probably, but the last time she’d yelled at him for waterbending with such ease, it’d nearly made him cry. He’d never before received a negative response to his talent. None of the Air Nomads had ever snapped at him for grasping a concept too quickly. None of his friends ever expressed jealousy or irritation when he showed them new airbending tricks.
So when Katara snapped at him, it had shaken him to his very core. He wasn’t sure how he was even meant to react to that. Would he have been upset if somebody else understood a bending form faster than him? Would he have reacted badly had one of his friends shown him a new trick he’d yet to discover or manage? He didn’t think so, but it wasn’t impossible, right?
The first time Aang tried to waterbend and immediately saw results, it had excited him. He was doing something new for the first time and it was working, after all! But it went deeper than that. Because if he somehow managed to learn waterbending with as much ease as he took to airbending, maybe it was really possible. Maybe it wasn’t a suicidal, hopeless quest to try and learn to bend all four elements in such a short time frame.
But if it was a fluke… what would he do then?
He shot another look toward Katara when he heard a small grunt of frustration coming from her direction. Her profile was visible to him, so he could see the slight downturn of her lips as she dropped her hands and let the water return to the river. She kicked the dirt with her foot and sent the waterbending scroll an aggravated look. Then her gaze traveled a little upward until her blue eyes met Aang’s.
He swiftly averted his gaze and focused back on the river, face feeling warm at having been caught staring.
Behind him, Sokka called triumphantly, challenging a nonexistent enemy to face him and his fierce boomerang skills. Aang forced himself to listen to his voice instead of wallowing in his own worries. Or on the silence that was coming from Katara’s direction now that she was caught apparently failing the waterbending move. Again.
A part of him wanted to get up and help her. Because while waterbending was new to him, he still knew the basics of bending in general. The monks had shown him the basics, they’d instructed and directed him toward Improvement, and that was something Katara never got, being the only waterbender of the south pole. But he held himself back from moving, internally cringing at the results that had earned him last time he tried doing that.
His eyes widened when he felt the air next to him being disturbed. When he tore them away from the river, he found Katara situating herself on the riverbank beside him, her legs folded under her. She didn’t look at him but at the stream, but there was a sad and defeated air around her, like she was beginning to lose hope in her mission to study waterbending. Somehow, this was even worse than her anger at him the day before.
“I don’t get it,” she said after a moment of silence. “When we fought the pirates yesterday I bended just fine. Why can’t I do it again now?”
Was he supposed to answer? Was she expecting him to explain this to her or was she just venting? He wasn’t sure how to respond.
Sighting, Katara brought a hand up to her neck, where her necklace was supposed to be. Her eyebrows contorted a little at the feeling of her bare skin greeting her once again. Aang could relate—he kept on looking at everything he owned and at Appa and Momo only to feel a wave of grief at the reminder that other than this little ragtag of items and beings, there was nothing left of his culture; and it hurt every single time.
“What if I’ll never really get it?” continued Katara after a moment. “We’re going to get to the north pole and find a teacher, but people take years to study bending, not to mention mastering it. And we don’t have years. And I know it’s not your fault, Aang, but you’re definitely going to get it faster than me. And then we’ll have to leave the moment you’re ready and I’ll be left without a teacher. Again.”
“Maybe we’ll find a waterbending teacher who’ll come with us,” he suggested hopefully. “Then we could both keep on learning together and we could look for an earthbending teacher at the same time. This could happen… right? I mean, you guys came with me. Who’s to tell someone else wouldn’t?”
Her lips tugged up a bit. “I guess that’s true. I just… I wish it were as easy for me as it is for you. I know it’s petty. It’s just that I’ve been practicing my waterbending ever since I was a little girl and I never got that far. And then you try it for the first time and it just immediately works.”
“It’s only because I have the basics. Katara, I had a bunch of teachers when I learned airbending and they taught me both about the element itself and about the foundation of all bending. If I had to figure it all out by myself it could have taken me double the time it did to master airbending. And then…” He wrinkled his nose as his mind explored this possibility. “Well, things would have been bad if I was stuck without an airbending teacher right now.”
Blinking rapidly, Katara whirled her head around to face him. “Wait, you already mastered airbending? But you’re—” She seemed to catch herself, cleared her throat, and then said, “I guess I always assumed mastering an elements would take a while.”
“Well, it took me twelve years.”
He smiled a little before his face dropped. Because he didn’t have twelve years to spend on each element now. He couldn’t take too much time practicing his bending anymore because he had to get a move on if he wanted to stop the Fire Nation before Sozin’s Comet arrived. And he had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to do that. What if the other elements were far harder for him to grasp than airbending? What if he tried a more complicated waterbending move and found himself stuck on it for months? He couldn’t afford this; the world couldn’t afford this.
Maybe he could work on his airbending and perfect it even more, to the point where it would be enough to face the Fire Lord. Then, once the war was over, he could actually dedicate himself to learning the other elements like his past lives. Although Avatar Roku did tell him he had to learn all of the elements before facing the Fire Lord, and he probably knew what he was talking about. He wouldn’t have sent Aang on a futile quest if it weren’t possible… right?
A wave of lethargy seemed to drown him. His shoulders sagged listlessly as he hunched down and leaned his cheek on his knees, facing Katara. He wanted to whine about how unfair it all was. He was twelve—he wasn’t even supposed to know he was the Avatar yet. And now the whole world was counting on him to stop this war despite the fact that it felt hopeless at times. Like right now, knowing how much he had to learn and having a deadline right around the corner.
His gloomy thoughts mellowed down upon seeing the dejected look on Katara’s face. Here he was, feeling sorry for himself, when Katara was sitting here, clearly looking for some type of comfort. She’d stolen that waterbending scroll so she could finally practice her bending properly and it wasn’t proving to work. And now she was trying to talk to him about it, and instead of helping he was absorbed in his own issues.
He could almost imagine Monk Gyatso’s disappointed face aimed at him.
“I’m sure all you need is a teacher,” he said, raising his head. “I mean, you did the water whip perfectly while fighting, it means your instincts are good. You just need someone to guide you. I’m sure once you find a master you’ll improve really fast.”
“Maybe… thanks, Aang,” she said. A moment later, she pressed her lips together for a second before determinedly asking, “What was that thing you said about the stances the other day?”
Tipping his head to the side, he bemusedly said, “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about…”
“Before I, um, yelled at you, you tried to give me advice,” she said awkwardly. Then she pushed herself to her feet with renewed energy, clasped her hands and looked at him hopefully. “Can you show me what you meant?”
“Oh, sure!”
With a puff of air, he floated off the ground and to his feet. He and Katara neared the edge of the water together. The moves from the scroll crossed through his mind as he chanced a hesitant look at his friend, apprehension still lingering behind. She was asking him to help, but what if she still got upset with him? What if his advice was wrong? What if it only made things worse for her? He didn’t want to sabotage her without meaning to, especially when she was already struggling even without his assistance.
Still, he tried not to show his unease as he looked away from the water in favor of facing Katara. She was his friend, he had to remind himself. She wasn’t going to be angry again because they were past that. And if they could train waterbending together again, he could keep on practicing until they found a proper teacher. It would probably be helpful, considering the fact that he was running out of time.
“Um… I’m not sure I’m absolutely right about this,” he prefaced warningly, “but I think the reason you’re having so much trouble is that you look at the stances in the scroll individually instead of seeing them as one swift move. It shows you the postures you have to go through to bend the water, but those are all a part of the same motion. You’ve got to connect them to each other. When you’re in the middle of a fight it’s easier because you don’t think about each stance—you just think about the combination. But while practicing, you try to do each stance perfectly and you miss the fluidity of the motion.”
Eyebrows furrowing in concentration, Katara slowly said, “So… I should focus more on moving between the stances rather on how well I’m doing each one?”
“I think it’s a mix of both,” he corrected. “You should know which form you’re leading to. You should hit them all as accurately as possible. But if you miss the in-between part, I think you’re just going to keep on struggling with it. Think of it like… like a dance!”
“A dance?”
“You have one big thing you’re trying to perform, right? And it has pivotal moments you need to strike. But the movement from one form to the next is still an integral part of the whole thing, otherwise it all looks stilted and disjointed. You should make the whole thing flow as much as you can until it looks like one big dance instead of separate poses put together.”
Katara nodded slowly. “I think I get it. You’re saying I’m not supposed to ignore the gaps between the stances. I can do that…”
He grinned. “Of course you can! Come on, give it a try.”
She looked wary, but still widened her stance a bit and turned to concentrate on the river. Taking in a deep breath, she stationed herself in the beginning form of the water whip and then froze. Her eyes drifted toward Aang uncertainly and he wondered if maybe she would prefer it if he let her try it without him watching her. Maybe it put her on edge.
“Just shift my way through the stances?” she said, as if making sure she got it right.
Aang nodded and clasped his hands behind his back as he swung up and down on his toes. He felt like his own anxiety regarding the approaching comet was being pushed to the back of his mind as he tried to look confident for Katara’s sake. He wasn’t sure how she’d take it if this approach to waterbending failed too. Honestly, he could almost believe he was more afraid she might still fail this than she was. Which was ridiculous and far too egotistical for his taste, so he tried to shove the feeling away and instead focus on showing his support and faith in his friend.
Anxiously, he watched as Katara finally moved. She held her hands before her, drew them back as instructed while shifting her weight from one leg toward the other, and then extended one hand back toward the river while once again shifting her balance. The movements were still a little fragmented but they were definitely better than they had been before. And the water seemed to agree with her because it moved accordingly and did as she’d intended, even it was still a little misshapen.
“You did it!” he cheered, clapping his hands.
She looked momentarily stunned. “I did? I did, right? It looked better this time!”
“Definitely! You should try it again! The more you practice, the better it can get.”
Instead of trying the water whip again, Katara dropped the water she was levitating to encircle Aang in a hug. He held still for a moment, afraid of driving her away. His face felt flushed and his heart seemed to speed up in his chest, beating against his ribcage. But eventually a grin bloomed on his face as he closed his eyes, hugged Katara back and wished for this moment to last as long as possible. Because for a moment nothing but her existed—not bending, not the world’s weight, not the war.
“Thanks, Aang,” said Katara as she drew back, face alight with exhilaration.
He hoped he didn’t sound as smitten as he felt when he said, “Sure.”
࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
Attachment
“I had to let go of someone I love and I just couldn’t.”
ᨒ⛰ᨒ
Was this entire fuss Aang had made really for nothing? He would have torn his hair out if he had any. He’d been so sure—that vision had been so crystal clear—that Katara was in danger. Yet the Earth King was so relaxed and certain everything was as it was supposed to be; that nothing was going on that could endanger any of them, including Katara. So could it be that he’d dragged Sokka away from his father for nothing? That he’d left Guru Patick without completing his Avatar State training for a false sense of dread?
He kept his head down, eyes trained on his feet, as he followed Sokka to their house. He couldn’t bear the thought of looking up and seeing the disappointment and frustration that would mar his friend’s face. It felt like a repeat of the incident they’d had while meeting Bato what felt like an eternity ago. Only now instead of preventing Sokka and Katara from finding their dad, he’d literally shown up to drag Sokka away from him. In a way, it was much worse.
And for what? He had nothing to show for this choice. Katara was probably perfectly fine. She’d be extremely surprised to see them all back when they were still supposed to be away. Suki and she would probably both try not to show how disappointed they were with Aang’s rash decision to drop everything just because of a stupid vision, although he figured they would also try to hide it from him because they were nice and wouldn’t want to make him feel even worse about the entire thing.
It was probably horrible that he was almost wishing for something to go wrong to justify his actions. At least then it wouldn’t look so stupid and he wouldn’t feel this guilty. Besides, eventually he’d have to admit to his friends that he’d left the guru without actually mastering the Avatar State. And without anything to show for it, it would just be the dumbest decision he’d ever made. He finally had the chance to learn how to control this enormously powerful state and he gave up on it. For a false alarm. If anything happened, at least he’d be able to use this disaster to excuse himself.
He truly was the worst Avatar: first abandoning his training and then wishing harm on the world.
His half-lidded eyes drifted a little sideways to Toph’s shadow. It stretched ahead of her so he could see the top of it slightly ahead of him. When he threw her a look over his shoulder, he found the girl dragging her feet, her cocky, loud and confident exterior appearing to be a little cracked. The expression on her face was difficult to read, but if he had to take a guess, he’d say she looked despondent.
Slowing up to match her pace, he said, “Hey, how’d things go with your mom?”
“Well, she wasn’t there,” she said flatly. “But I learned to metalbend.”
Aang’s steps faltered. “What?”
More slowly, like she thought he was hard of hearing, she said, “I—learned—metalbending!”
Apparently, the fact that metalbending wasn’t supposed to be possible was only a suggestion to Toph. Aang was probably meant to be surprised, but Gyatso always did encourage him to test the limits of bending. And if anyone was going to discover a new bending form, it was Toph. The girl was crazy talented when it came to earthbending. He wasn’t even going to question it. It was the first half of her sentence that really caught him off guard.
“That’s awesome, Toph. But, um, what do you mean your mom wasn’t there? I thought she wanted to meet up with you in the city.”
Actually, come to think of it, Sokka and he had found Toph making her way toward Ba Sing Se. Meaning she’d been outside of the city for some reason and trying to make her way back. She’d been all alone after, apparently, discovering metalbending. And somehow it must have been connected to her mother wanting to see her, right? Although her mother had wanted to meet up in Ba Sing Se, not outside the walls.
He stared at his friend when she narrowed her eyes in that angry way she sometimes did while angry. Her hair was messier than normal and her hands clenched at her sides like she wanted to punch someone in the face or throw rocks at an enemy. Or maybe at him, if she felt like disguising it as training. The point was—for someone who’d just branched into an uncharted territory of bending, she looked kind of upset and unhappy.
When Toph didn’t volunteer an explanation, Aang prompted, “What happened?”
“What does it matter?” she said sharply. “I handled it. It’s over. Just forget about it and let’s focus on finding Sugar Queen.”
“She probably really is with Suki,” he said reluctantly.
“Yeah. And I can’t wait to crash in on their girly day.”
He furrowed his brows in confusion. “Toph, you’re a girl.”
She snorted. “Technicalities. But if we have to use a guy to interrupt them, that’s what we have Sokka for.”
Aang glanced down at himself. “Um… what about me?”
“Could have fooled me, Twinkle Toes.”
He chuckled, enjoying the way Toph’s easy banter seemed to lighten up the dead weight in his stomach. Talking to his friends helped. It usually did. Even if they weren’t actually talking about the fact that he’d lied about mastering the Avatar State or about how stupid he’d been for dragging them to the palace to check on Katara needlessly. Toph didn’t even need to know he was grappling with something to help distract him from it.
Speaking of distractions…
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with your mom,” he said gently.
Her face contorted a little. “I don’t care.”
He went to rest a hand on her arm, then changed his mind. Not a single part of him felt like having his fingers broken. But there was just something so closed-off about Toph’s expression just then, and there was a tone of defensiveness in her voice, that Aang couldn’t help but feel like she was hiding the way she truly felt from him. And he wasn’t sure how to help without knowing what had happened. All he could do was offer to be there for her, but Toph wasn’t really one for physical touch, was she? Unless it was in the form of a punch.
Instead, he said, “Well, if you ever want to talk about it…”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she retorted, blowing her bangs away from her face.
They kept on walking toward the house. Aang sent Sokka’s back a look and quickly looked away shamefully as the weight of his guilt intensified. But when he tried to focus on something else, all that sprang into his mind was the Avatar State. The guru’s warning that he wouldn’t be able to enter it if he closed the seventh chakra. And instead of admitting to his friends that he’d given up on the universe’s cosmic energy to help a person who wasn’t even in trouble, Aang lied.
He felt like a coward. He’d run from the Air Temple after discovering the monks wanted to separate him from Gyatso, which was then followed by the genocide of his people. He’d lied to Sokka and Katara upon meeting them, claiming he had no idea who the Avatar was despite seeing how much Katara was holding out hope for the idea of his return. And now he was lying about something he knew he wouldn’t be able to conceal forever; something that could influence in which direction this war would go in the future.
Yeah, he definitely felt like a coward. But how was he expected to let go of a person he loved? It was ludicrous! He never expected to be asked to do such a thing to help the world. He knew war demanded a lot out of the people fighting in it, but he’d never guessed it would bare him of his attachments, too. There were only a small, scattered bunch of people alive now that he felt connected to on a deeper level. He liked a whole lot of people, seeing everyone as a potential friend. But he loved his friends; all three of them. How was he ever supposed to just let that go?
“The letter I got wasn’t really from my mom,” said Toph, her pensive voice piercing through his melancholic thoughts.
Shaking his head a little, Aang turned to look at her. “It wasn’t?”
“No. It was from my earthbending tutor back home and that guy who kidnapped us for ransom.” She waved her hand dismissively before he could fret over it and added, “They’re both stuck inside a metal box together. They can’t come after us. Unless someone gets them out, they’re going to be stuck in there for a long time.”
He decided not to comment on the fact that this could potentially be lethal. Maybe he could go find them later; make sure they weren’t suffocating or dying in there. Or he could let the Earth King know. Was this something he would care about? These guys didn’t really live in Ba Sing Se, but… they were Earth Kingdom citizens.
Toph obliviously plowed on. “Apparently, my parents paid them to find me and get me back home. They claim you kidnapped me, like I still have no free will and the ability to choose to leave home by myself. So I guess my parents never really changed their minds after all.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Happy now, Twinkle Toes?”
“Well… not really. I’m sorry you had to deal with that by yourself. I wish we’d shown up earlier.”
“Not me. Who knows how long it would have taken me to metalbend otherwise.”
“Okay,” he conceded. “I’m happy you discovered metalbending. But I’m sorry your parents still don’t see you for who you are. I wish they could see you the way we all do. Any parent with a kid that’s even remotely like you should be proud.”
Toph poked her finger into his bicep. “Don’t get all mushy on me.”
When he took in her expression, he was only mildly surprised to see more vulnerability than she was usually willing to show. It made him want to hug her consolingly without ever letting go. It just truly, genuinely baffled him how parents could miss such an integral part of who their child was, especially after seeing it with her own eyes. Even if Aang himself never had parents—or at least didn’t know or care to find out who they were—he was pretty sure this wasn’t the best example of a loving and compassionate relationship between family members.
Raising his hands in surrender, Aang said, “I’m just saying it would make sense if this upset you. And… you know, once the war is over”—he didn’t say: If we win—“if you’d like to go talk to your parents, I could come with you. If you want me to, I mean. You can try to explain yourself to them again. Maybe they’ll change by then.”
“They won’t.”
“They could.”
She sighed. “You know, one day you’ll come across a person who won’t fit in your perfect world where everybody is friends with everybody.”
He thought about Azula, with her unnervingly calculating eyes. He thought about Zuko, who’d blasted him with fire after Aang offered him friendship. He thought about the Fire Lord—whoever he might be—who was continuing waging war on the world and whom people repeatedly claimed was pure evil. He thought about Fire Lord Sozin, the one who’d ordered the attack on Aang’s people.
His faith that everyone could be convinced to change had long since left him. But he still held out hope that some people could. And he really, really hoped Toph’s parents belonged in the latter group, mostly for her sake.
Choosing not to speak his thoughts out loud, Aang just rubbed his head and said, “Maybe.”
“My parents will have your head if you show up at their house again.” For a split moment she was quiet, then she punched his arm, making him staggard sideways. “But… you know… thanks. I might just take you up on that, Twinkle Toes.”
Aang rubbed his arm but replaced his pained grimace with a smile. “Sure, Toph.”
࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
Remorse
“Sometimes the shadows of the past can be felt by the present.”
⚡︎ ☀︎ ⚡︎
Sometimes the universe just loved messing with him. Aang was sure of that. Why else would he end up alone with Zuko, glued relentlessly so he could barely budge, with nothing to do but tap his fingers on the metal bars of their prison. Zuko was right—at least they had air and weren’t suffocating to death on top of everything. But this wasn’t going to help them if nobody came looking for them any time soon.
He tried to think about his friends and what they would have done if they were stuck in this situation. But all he came up with was… well, blaming Zuko. They would have managed. Maybe not Toph—she didn’t have quite as much of a beef with the guy, but Sokka and Katara were less than thrilled about him. So had they been in Aang’s shoes, they would have surely blamed Zuko and claimed it was his fault this was happening in the first place.
But Aang, no matter how agitated and annoyed he was for having been ignored, honestly didn’t think Zuko did any of it on purpose. He probably really had no idea touching the golden egg would get them here. Otherwise, he would have made sure he wasn’t in the line of fire so only Aang ended up trapped. And Toph had confirmed that he had been telling them all the truth, so Aang believed Zuko wasn’t still trying to capture him and bring him to his father.
They were still stuck and incapacitated, though, whether Zuko had good intentions or not.
This only further proved to Aang that nothing good could come of firebending. They tried, they gave it their best shot. Aang tried to study from Jeong Jeong, which ended up with Katara burnt. They let Zuko join their group so he could teach Aang and suddenly his firebending faded to practically nothing but sparks. They came to these ruins to find out more and they found themselves attacked by an ancient trap.
It was more than enough evidence that the universe simply didn’t want Aang to learn firebending. He was completely okay with it. He had sworn off this element after the not-listening-and-burning-Katara incident, after all.
“Great,” muttered Zuko. “Just great.”
“Oh, now you find that positive attitude, huh?” said Aang.
Ignoring him, the teen said, “It’s like every single time I try to make the right choices, something bad follows. I defend new Fire Nation recruits? I get my face burned and an impossible task as my only hope of getting back home. I release your bison and suddenly I get really sick right before my sister shows up. I finally step up to my father and have a change of heart but my uncle is nowhere to be found. And now I’m trying to help you, yet I can’t firebend properly and we’re stuck in some… some kind of goo!”
Aang looked at him from the corner of his eye and frowned. This really did sound bad when he put it like that—and it made Aang wonder, not for the first time, about Zuko’s scar. But he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this wasn’t really Zuko’s bad luck that was acting up this time. Maybe now it was his own. He’d promised not to firebend yet he found himself a teacher and was all ready to try this out again. Maybe this was the world’s way of telling him not to go back on his word.
And really, he wasn’t supposed to. He’d hurt Katara. Had she not been able to heal herself with water, her hands would have been scarred forever, just like Zuko’s face. Was it just that Aang didn’t have the constant, visible reminder of the damage he’d caused? Was that why he was allowing himself to break his promise? Or maybe it was just the weight of the world’s hope and faith resting so heavily on his shoulders, basically screaming in his ear that he had no other choice but to learn firebending.
Drumming his fingers lightly, he asked, “What did happen to your uncle?”
“None of your—ugh…” Zuko cut himself off and groaned. “Sorry. I may have just… betrayed him. Azula asked me to help her in Ba Sing Se. My uncle advised me against listening to her. And… well, you know how that ended.”
Yeah, it was kind of hard to forget the fact that he’d been shot with lightning and ended up dead for a few minutes there. The close call—if it could even be called that when it had clearly been far worse—left him with nightmares he kept on waking up from, gasping and forced to wipe tears off his face. Not because he’d been dead—although that wasn’t the most cheerful thought to linger on—but because for a moment there… the world was left with a total of zero living Air Nomads.
He kept on unwillingly imagining what the world would have looked like had Katara been unsuccessful in reviving him. Because without the Air Nomads, there would only be three nations left. And even if they survived this war, balance would never truly be restored to the world. He knew that with only him left behind the world still only had three nations, but at least there was hope for his people to rise again, right? He would probably not get to live to see the sky filled with airbenders, bison and lemurs, but it could happen. Someday, far ahead.
Zuko cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry about that, by the way.”
“It’s okay.” It really was—at least, he wasn’t blaming Zuko. It was always Azula who crossed his mind whenever he thought about that. “I only died a little.”
“What?”
“What?”
“You died? I thought you were fatally wounded and Katara healed you before it could get worse. I didn’t think you actually died!”
Aang tried to shift his body but the glue wouldn’t allow it. “It wasn’t for too long. I think. That’s what they told me later. I was sort of in a coma for a few weeks after that. Woke up on a Fire Nation ship they took over. It was a bit disorienting.” And if that was putting it mildly, Aang decided he didn’t care. “Anyway, it was fine.”
His new friend didn’t seem to agree. “What do you mean, it’s fine? THIS IS NOT FINE!”
He would have shrugged if he could. “The important thing is that Katara’s okay, you’re okay, I’m okay—everyone’s okay. Although… it’s not all that great that we’re stuck right now.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Zuko grumbled. “How can you just brush aside the fact that you died?”
Aang let out a noncommitted hum.
“Great, just great,” he said again tiredly. “I’m stuck here with a suicidal eleven-year-old.”
“I’m twelve. Actually, I’m a hundred and twelve, so you should really show some respect to your elderly, young whipper-snapper.”
Zuko groaned miserably.
They both fell silent after that for a while. The sun shining brightly above them started its descent and crawled across the sky toward the earth. Aang glanced at it every once in a while, remembering Jeong Jeong’s lesson about concentrating on the sun, its heat. He could almost feel a burning sensation under his skin the more he thought about it, and it made him twitch and wriggle uncomfortably to try and get rid of the energy building up inside him. It also earned him some weirded-out looks from Zuko.
Eventually, Aang got sick of the silence and said, “You know, your uncle always seemed nice. And he gave me some good advice when we worked together to get to you and Katara.”
“Yeah, he does that,” said Zuko fondly, with a hint of melancholy in his voice. “Normally, he’d offer you tea along with it. But I’m guessing you didn’t have time to sit around.”
“Um… not really, no.” He bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated his next move, then timidly asked, “What happened to him after Ba Sing Se?”
Zuko sighed. “He was imprisoned in a Fire Nation prison right outside of the capital. I went to visit him a bunch of times but I kind of yelled at him instead of, you know, begging for forgiveness like I should have been doing.” With a bitter laugh passing through his lips, he added, “And despite all of that, he still helped me for some reason.”
“Because he loves you. He cares about you, Zuko. That’s what you do for the people in your life who are worth it. You… you support them even if they give up on themselves.”
He thought about his friends who had forgiven him for his mistakes every time, even if they were hurt by his actions. Like when he’d hidden the map to Sokka and Katara’s dad. Or when he’d yelled at Toph in the desert to blame her for Appa’s theft. Or when he’d burnt Katara. He knew they all cared about him. But it somehow still stunned him how they were so willing to forgive him for some pretty bad decisions on his part.
Shaking his head, the firebender told him, “I wish I knew to appreciate it before it was too late.” At the alarmed look on Aang’s face, Zuko hurriedly explained, “I think he’s fine. He escaped his cell by himself on the day of the eclipse. I ran over there to bust him out but he wasn’t there. Now I have no idea where he is or if I’ll ever see him again. If he’d even want to see me again.”
“I’m sure he will,” said Aang.
With a scoff, Zuko murmured, “Yeah? I wish I could be as sure as you.”
Aang thought about Katara. Katara who had never minded him firebending, either before or after he burned her. She’d forgiven him for that almost instantly, and then sided with everyone when they said he had to find a firebending teacher. and if she could forgive Aang after only knowing him for a short amount of time, he was more than certain Zuko’s uncle would be willing to so the same in a heartbeat.
“Well… I forgave you after you hunted me for months,” he pointed out.
From the corner of his eye, he could just barely see Zuko closing his eyes. “Yeah, you’re a strange kid.”
“I always knew we could be friends,” he chirped lightly. “You should have never doubted me. I have this Avatar wisdom thing going on, see?”
“That’s not a thing.”
“Can you prove that?”
It was quiet for a few moments. The sun was almost completely gone, the sky above them painted warm colors that stretched out all around. It kind of reminded him of fire too, and Aang wondered if there was any chance his friends disliked the sunsets for the very same reason. They never showed any signs of not appreciating the beauty of it, but maybe he just hadn’t noticed. Did Katara care? Would she care once he actually started firebending? Would she flinch away or step back to safety? Would she let him show her what he was learning or would she shy away from him?
Would his friends possibly see him as an enemy once he started firebending? After all, they grew up recognizing firebenders as the enemy…
Adamantly shaking out these thoughts, Aang said, “So I have this Avatar wisdom thing—”
“Quit it!” snapped Zuko. “Just—just try to figure a way out of this, okay? There’s got to be something we can do.”
So they just silently wrecked their brains for a solution, neither one chiming in with any ideas.
࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
Separation
“Some of our troops were taken… I need to know what I put him through.”
🪭 🪭 🪭
In Zuko and Sokka’s absence, Aang trained a little more with Katara and Toph on his waterbending and earthbending. And, of course, he had his firebending exercises to work on as well. And ever since the two boys returned from—apparently—a Fire Nation prison with Katara and Sokka’s dad, Suki and some guy none of them had ever met before, Aang had to deal with Zuko’s relentless lessons that were meant to make up for the time they lost.
In other words, Aang was exhausted.
His muscles were protesting every single move he made, his brain was muddled from the number of bending forms he had to keep in mind while also keeping them separated so he wouldn’t mix them up accidentally. He had to repeatedly go out to forage for something to eat that wasn’t meat. And on top of all of that was now the crushing guilt he felt every time his eyes landed on Hakoda because of the fresh memory of leaving all of the people who’d volunteered to fight during the eclipse behind.
More than failing to find Fire Lord Ozai, what had caused Aang to tear up once it became apparent that they weren’t successful with their invasion plan was that he was leaving good people behind. All of these allies were there, putting their lives at risk for the sake of helping defeat the Fire Nation. And Aang’s one job—his one mission—made the whole thing crumble. Because without the Fire Lord, the war couldn’t end. He’d failed and others had to pay for it with their freedom.
He knew all of his friends felt horrible about this too. Teo’s dad was left behind. As well as Haru’s. The Duke was left without Pipsqueak, the only one he truly knew well among them all. And, of course, Sokka and Katara’s dad chose to stay with them all, ripped away from his children once again. And Aang had allowed it to happen, deciding to fly away on top of Appa instead of suffering the same fate as the adults.
And he knew—he knew—he wouldn’t have really been subjected to the same punishment as the others. The Fire Nation didn’t care how young he was because he was their main enemy. Even if others could inflict severe damage, Aang was the face of the forces fighting against the Fire Nation. He was twelve but people looked up to him so he’d lead them through these battles. It was his job to finish this war, and the Fire Nation would likely not treat him with kindness if he were ever captured.
I’ll keep you alive, Zhao had told him once. But just barely.
The thing was that captivity struck a deeper chord with Aang than it did with his friends. Yes, these were their friends and family who got taken away so it ached to think about. But to someone like Aang, who grew up with the concept of freedom at the very core of his culture, it was a different kind of ache. Trying to wrap his head around trapping people and restricting them was difficult. He knew it happened—they’d rescued Haru and his dad from prison, after all—but that didn’t make it any less unfathomable.
Telling himself that captivity was better than being dead helped to an extent, but it wasn’t much. Aang had been strapped and locked up by Zhao for barely a day and it was one of his worst memories. It had felt like someone was cutting him off from who he was and what he cared about. Not just physically, although he had been kept away from his friends. But mentally… well, for the first time in his life he’d truly felt confined.
And now more people were in that position, and it was all his fault. And while Hakoda and Suki were now back with them, roaming free once again, there were more people still locked up. And every time Aang came across his friends’ dad, he found himself ducking away and avoiding him. He didn’t really think the man would blame him for it all, but that didn’t matter, did it? He was just a reminder to Aang. A reminder of all the people who were still being imprisoned. People he hadn’t even thought of trying to rescue.
Why didn’t Sokka ask him to join him and Zuko? Why did they go alone? Did Sokka secretly blame Aang for his dad’s capture? Did he not trust Aang not to mess up the escape plan, so he decided to take the guy he was still tentative around instead?
Dragging his aching body away from the open space Zuko and he had been using for their firebending training, Aang rubbed his eyes with a fist and yawned. From the floor below him he could hear Tao, Toph and Katara chatting lively. When Hakoda’s voice joined the conversation, though, Aang grimaced and sped up a little. He needed to sleep. A little bit of sleep to fuel him before Toph decided it was time to work on his earthbending.
Oh, man, he was so tired…
He climbed up a staircase to a small balcony and went to cross it briskly only to widen his eyes in alarm. To his right, the air shifted as something pierced through it and sailed directly toward his head. Instincts kicking in, Aang altered his balance so his feet pressed more firmly against the ground, then punched his hand up to create a column of earth. A second later he heard a small thud as something hit the earth before clattering to the floor.
“Oops,” a familiar voice said from beyond the earth column. “Sorry, Aang!”
Bending the earth back into place, he focused on Suki. She smiled sheepishly as she came closer and picked up a red fan from the floor—what had been tossed in his direction. He smiled back and tried to make his heartrate lower back down. But hey, at least he felt a little more awake now. Absently, he also wondered whether Toph would have been impressed with the swift reaction or not.
“Hey, Suki. Are you training?”
“Yeah. It feels like one of the only things I can do right now. I’m sorry I threw this at you—I didn’t hear you coming,” she said, raising the fan a little.
Most people didn’t. Toph could tell he was approaching through her earthbending but the rest tended to be surprised whenever he showed up. Sokka once told him it was because he walked too quietly. Aang had responded by saying that with how much they had to sneak around, it was a good thing.
“It’s all right,” he said with a shrug. Glancing around, he asked, “Where’s Sokka?”
Rolling her eyes, Suki went back toward the center of the balcony and resumed a fighting stance. “Toph made him go hunt for food because he promised he would and instead went to get his dad and I.”
“Oh.” He watched her as she moved for a moment. “Hey, where did you get the fan from?”
“It was on the Fire Nation princess’s airship. I, um, borrowed it. It doesn’t feel the same as the fans we use back home. They were heavier and sturdier than this. One hit could ruin this thing. But it’s still familiar, I guess. It makes me feel like…” She trailed off a little and her eyes hardened. “Like the girls are still with me.”
Aang’s shoulders slumped a little. He almost forgot that Suki was the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors. Not forgot forgot. But just… forgot what it meant. Zuko did tell him once he and Sokka were back that Hakoda and Suki were put in the prison they’d gone without the rest of their groups. They’d been separated from the rest because they were the ones leading their respective groups. And now they were here but the people they fought side by side with were still behind bars.
They knew the weight of the guilt Aang was dealing with because they were going through the same thing. That was what he forgot about.
Looking at her now, Aang internally winced. Suki was moving with surety and the kind of decisiveness she always carried herself with. But the grim determination on her face was different. She didn’t just look like the idealist he and his friends had met months ago. There was a familiar spark of grief in her purplish eyes; one that Aang knew from all of the times he thought about the people he’d lost, whether they were dead or held captive.
Seeing her practicing by herself, without her usual entourage of girls, was off-putting. He could almost picture them in his mind, moving in perfect tandem with her. The few times he got to watch the Kyoshi Warriors training together, he’d marveled at their unity and how well they worked together. They moved like they were a part of the same entity, connected in ways that were invisible to his eyes.
But now she was all alone and it seemed unnatural.
Ignoring the exhaustion in his very bones, Aang said as enthusiastically as possible, “We can train together if you want.”
“Aang, we have very different types of training,” she said amusedly, lowering her fan a little as she turned to look at him again. “I don’t see you training with Sokka.”
“Although he does like to try attacking me from behind during training.” He swiftly airbended the fan out of Suki’s grip and into his hand. “It doesn’t matter, though. I’ve never tried to learn how to fight without bending before, and it’s never too late to learn new things. This could be fun! Besides”—he unfurled the fan and used it to send a strong gust of air toward the canyon—“I could always implement different types of bending to different techniques.”
Suki’s eyes crinkled. “I guess that’s true. Okay, sure. Come over here.”
“Great!” He skipped forward and placed himself next to Suki, only a step or two behind her. “I can’t wait to tell Sokka you agreed to train me without making me wear the warrior outfit he had to put on. I wore it once and I kind of couldn’t move.”
She chuckled as she took the fan back from him. “I’m guessing you didn’t have it measured for your size then. It doesn’t matter—I mostly just wanted to see the look on Sokka’s face when he had to wear a dress.”
Aang’s own mirth lasted for about a minute longer before his weary body reminded him that he’d just finished a training session with Zuko and had more to look forward to. So why in the world was he willingly subjecting himself to an extra session with Suki? He didn’t feel as balanced as he usually was, his movements were slightly sloppy and every time he blinked, he could feel his eyelids resisting against his will to open them back up.
But then he took a look at Suki’s face. She looked a little more at ease now that she wasn’t practicing by herself. When she explained some of the moves to him, there was a spark in her eyes, like this familiar territory was soothing her. This was no substitute for the friends she grew up with on Kyoshi Island, but it was helping her. So Aang pushed past his lethargy and copied her movements to the best of his ability while constantly reminding himself not to airbend.
“They were captured because of me, you know,” she said after a while. “The girls and I never really thought of leaving Kyoshi Island until you guys showed up. And then I convinced most of them that it was time to leave and do our best to help with the war. Some of them stayed behind, but most agreed to come even though I could tell they weren’t too comfortable with this idea. I didn’t make them come with me, but I feel like I pressured them into it. And now look what happened—we were all captured by the Fire Nation. They still are.
“I will get them out of their prison, though,” she added fiercely, winding her arm in a complicated move that made Aang falter a little. “I know I will. I’ll find a way to find them. Either before the war comes to an end or after—they’re going to be free again. At least they’re together. At least, I hope they all are. They can keep each other safe. Maybe they’ll manage to escape on their own—I wouldn’t be surprised if they do. And if they can’t set themselves free, then at least they’ll keep their spirits up.”
Aang pictured all of the fighters who’d participated in the invasion. He hoped all of that was true for them too. That they were together. That they had each other’s backs and were safe for now. And the second he got the chance to, he’d get them out. They were going to be free again because he couldn’t imagine leaving them there for longer than they were forced to. Sokka and Zuko had been the ones to liberate Hakoda and Suki, but he wouldn’t miss freeing the others; next time he was determined to be there and help, too.
“I think that’s enough for one day,” Suki said, sounding much more chipper. She placed a hand on Aang’s shoulder and smiled. “You’re a fast learner, Aang. I’d be impressed, but it’s not really surprising after you learned to bend three more elements this quickly, is it? By the way, I never got the chance to thank you. Avatar Kyoshi showed up while I was imprisoned to give me back hope right as I was starting to give up in there. So thanks for that.”
She left quickly after that, leaving Aang’s mind reeling as he tried to comprehend the fact that his past life’s spirit had shown up before Suki. By the time he managed to find his voice again, the warrior was already halfway down to the floor below the balcony.
“W-wait, I didn’t actually do anything!” he called after her, then shook his head. “Ugh, whatever. Sleep now.”
From two floors below, Toph’s loud voice exclaimed, “Twinkle Toes! Time for some more training!”
He moaned in despair.
࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
Loss
“You're feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?”
⚔︎⏾⚔︎⏾⚔︎
Aang stared after Katara and Zuko’s distancing figures and internally wailed and raged. Because this whole thing felt so incredibly unfair.
He wished he could call after Katara and find the right words. He wished there was anything he could say to make her anger addled mind clear up enough that she could see this wasn’t the way. He wished he knew how to make all of this hurt less, so she wasn’t so consumed by this need for revenge. And Zuko’s encouragement wasn’t exactly helping him achieve any of that because he was only adding fuel to the fire. Well, he was a firebender.
It hurt him to be on the receiving end of Katara’s glare as he refused to relent on this. But what else was he supposed to do? Let her go after the man who had caused her all of this grief? Maybe under different circumstances he would have, but there was so much rage and pain in her voice that it made him feel like this could potentially cause more harm than good. Had this been about closure, maybe… but not revenge. This was never a good idea.
And right now, he couldn’t offer her any comfort, could he? Because to her, he was the bad guy preventing her from reaching her goal. But—but Sokka was siding with him! Sokka was Kya’s son, just like Katara, and he agreed that this wasn’t a good idea. If he could see Aang’s point, surely this was the right way to go, right? Maybe Katara just needed some time to cool off.
Speaking of Sokka…
“Are you okay?” he asked, turning his head toward the older teen.
“What me? Yeah! Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. I’m fine,” said Sokka casually. “Are—uh—are you?”
Was he?
The Western Air Temple had been blasted with bombs by Azula, so the place was now even more destroyed than it had been after the initial attack on his people a hundred years ago. All of the history he hadn’t managed to retain from within its walls was possibly gone forever now. Just… out of the blue… another piece of his culture was targeted, very possibly because of him. Again.
Once again, their group had to be separated because of circumstances beyond their control. Katara and Sokka were cut off from their father once more, like they hadn’t just reunited with him. Aang hoped the group they’d left behind was safe, but he had no way of knowing that for sure and it was kind of driving him insane because he kept on wondering whether he liked it or not.
And, of course, Katara was mad at him because he wouldn’t let her ride Appa toward a quest for revenge. And it was kind of tearing him up inside because what kind of person caused this much grief to the person they claimed to love?
“Yeah,” he said eventually, patting Appa’s head absently. “Yeah, I’m fine too.”
He and Sokka glanced at each other, then looked away. From the corner of his eye, Aang could see his friend beginning to swing his hands back and forth awkwardly.
“Was I wrong?” he asked timidly. “Should I have just let her take Appa?”
“Aang, I sided with you. I don’t think she should go looking for that man any more than you do.”
“Right. I just… I don’t know. Maybe she’s right?”
Sokka gave him a deadpan look. “Are you saying she was right to say we didn’t love our mom the same way?”
Eyes widening and hands flailing before him, Aang spluttered, “N-no! Of course not! I know that’s not true. Of course you loved your mom, too!”
Thankfully, Sokka didn’t look offended. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at his feet thoughtfully. “Look, a part of me really, really wants to find the man who killed our mother and take his life in revenge. If anyone deserves it, it’s him. But… I don’t know. I honestly don’t remember that much about my mom, but I do know she wouldn’t want Katara or I to avenge her. She’d want us to help end the war to help the world. Not to make someone pay back for what they had done. Not like this. I think you were right to tell her no.”
Stepping closer, he elbowed Aang’s side and more lightly added, “Hey, don’t let your feelings for my sister cloud your judgement. She shouldn’t go down this path. I think you did good.”
Aang’s entire body seemed to set aflame as he let Sokka’s last few sentences compute in his brain. All thoughts of the ruined temple and their stranded friends left his brain as mortification and embarrassment flooded his system. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself or what to say. So denials just ended up tumbling out of his mouth in quick succession.
“Right…” Sokka drawled out, cutting Aang off at last. “I’m just gonna stop you right there because you could probably go at it all day. All I’m saying’s that you made the right call.”
His body still felt incredibly winded up, but Aang forced himself to take in a calming breath and nod at Sokka’s words. He could probably freak out about Sokka knowing about his feelings toward Katara some other time. Right now they had bigger fish to fry. So he tore his gaze away from Sokka and focused on the place where Katara and Zuko had disappeared off to together.
“She isn’t going to give up that easily, is she?” he said.
“Of course not. It’s Katara. You know, the same person who stole a waterbending scroll when she couldn’t buy it fair and square.” Sokka shuffled his feet a bit and folded his arms again. “Sometimes I do wonder, though…” He stiffened a little. “Never mind.”
“What? What is it, Sokka?”
There was a fractured look in the Water Tribe boy’s eyes as he confessed, “I wonder if maybe Katara does miss Mom more than me.”
Aang frowned. “It’s not a competition, you know. You both miss her—it just shows in different ways.”
“But it’s more than that. I don’t… I don’t remember our mother the way Katara does. I think she has this perfect image of her in her head. But me—I don’t have that. It’s been such a long time since I last got to see Mom, and I guess the years just sort of made me forget. I can’t remember what she sounded like or what lullaby she’d sing us to sleep with. But Katara remembers. I know I loved her; I still do. But without all of these memories of who she was… without anything to remember her by… I don’t know, I guess it sometimes feels like I’m mourning an idea instead of a person.”
The Southern Air Temple flashed through Aang’s mind. Not as it had been a hundred years ago, but as it was now, after the decimation of his people. He thought about the last glimpse he’d caught of the Western Air Temple the day before, as they were flying away. He’d seen both those places before the war—when they were full of life and joy and people. But now every time he’d think of them, the freshest, most clear memories would always be of abandoned buildings, empty rooms and dusty skeletons.
And with time, he knew, the memories of the past would fade even more. No matter how much he wanted or tried to hold on to them, they would slip right through his fingers. Because memories were like that. It was impossible to hold on to them forever. He hated this fact because it meant that the more time passed, the more of his culture was being lost forever; forgotten by him and the rest of the world.
“Sometimes all we can do is hold on to what we do have,” said Aang eventually, and he hoped his voice wasn’t as hoarse as it felt. “The nature of memories is that they fade away. So you just have to protect the ones you do have and hope they’ll last for as long as possible.”
Exhaling tiredly, Sokka muttered, “Yeah, I guess.”
They both fell silent then. Sokka looked out at the open sea visible from their vantage point, his gaze distant and his face contemplative. Aang alternated between watching him and focusing on Appa as he carded his fingers through the bison’s fur. He almost wished for Toph to show up so she could somehow elevate the atmosphere. But she was probably busy with her own stuff right now.
“We should keep an eye on her,” said Sokka after a long time.
“On Katara?” Aang gave him an uncertain look. “You think she’d still just take Appa?”
“Remember the pirates, Aang.”
He hunched his shoulders and looked into his bison’s nearest eye. “I mean, I know she did it before. But—but this isn’t like stealing some inanimate object. He’s a living being and he’s my friend. I already had him stolen once. She wouldn’t actually try to take him behind my back…”
With a slightly guilty look, Sokka shifted his weight away from Aang and said, “I nearly did.”
“What?”
“Hey, how else was I supposed to get to the Boiling Rock? It’s not exactly nearby.” Still, he raised his hands in a show of surrender and added, “I know I didn’t actually take him in the end, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I should have asked for permission beforehand, too.”
Aang stared at him in befuddlement. He’d never even considered the fact that maybe Sokka’s first instinct had been to take Appa to a dangerous Fire Nation prison rather than Zuko’s war balloon. Maybe because he didn’t want to believe one of his friends would ever willingly risk Appa’s safety without even asking if Aang was okay with it. Then again, he would have probably said yes anyway, especially if he knew it was because Sokka wanted to rescue his dad.
He tried not to imagine how wrong things could have gone had Sokka actually taken Appa. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he’d already lost Appa once. Or maybe because they were discussing losing loved ones and their memories, and Appa was the only one besides Aang who still remembered. Whatever it was, Aang could feel his brows furrowing and he had to bite his lips to keep them from tugging down into a deep frown.
Sokka would have done whatever he could to keep Appa safe, he knew. He’d been there when Aang broke down after the sandbenders stole his friend right from under his nose. He knew how much his bison meant to him. The possibilities of what could have been still flitted through his mind, but Aang countered them with the promise that Sokka cared and he wouldn’t have rested until Appa was returned to him, safe and sound.
Releasing some of the tension in his body with a sigh, Aang said, “I forgive you.”
He chuckled a little when Sokka pulled him against his side, offering him a much-appreciated side hug. It made his grief over the temple elevate a little and his worries regarding Teo, Hakoda and the rest mellow down. And while he was still concerned about Katara and what she might do, he figured that even if she tried to take Appa without his permission, he’d still forgive her for it. She was mad, but she wouldn’t let anything happen to his bison any more than Sokka would.
“Come on,” said Sokka, his tone lighter. “Let’s go keep an eye on your girlfriend—”
“She’s not my girlfriend!” protested Aang.
His friend shrugged nonchalantly and flippantly said, “Whatever.”
“I mean, we kissed that one time, but—”
“What? When did that happen?”
Using the wind to push himself faster, Aang hurriedly called over his shoulder, “Wow, we’re taking so long. I’ll just go on ahead. Bye, Sokka!”
“AANG! Get back here!”
࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
Alone
“I can’t believe a year ago I was still frozen in a block of ice. The world’s so different now.”
࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
They would notice soon. It wasn’t hard to miss the fact that the Avatar was missing from the celebration going on in the plaza. Music, laughter and chatter flowed all around as people mingled together. The Fire Nation citizens in the crowd mostly kept to themselves, and the others didn’t seem to mind that, but some did tentatively reach out to people from the Water Tribes, the Earth Kingdom or the swamp. The festive air the entire thing emitted permeated through the air, like a fresh breeze.
Aang let one of his legs dangle over the top of the roof of the Fire Nation palace, where he was currently sitting. His second leg was bent close to his chest and he hugged it loosely while keeping his gaze locked on the crowd below. His new yellow robes—something Zuko had insisted was made for him the second the war was over—billowed lightly in the wind, shimmering gold under the rays of sun beaming down on him from above.
The fact that so many different people were finally sharing the same air without trying to attack each other brought a small smile to his face. To him, he knew, it’s been less than a year since he last saw people from the different nations mixing together without a looming threat. But for all of them this was a new experience. Only truly old members of society could probably remember what the world used to be like before the war.
His smile dimmed and evaporated as his eyes darted from one person to the next, searching the crowd intently; hopelessly. He knew what he was looking for wouldn’t be found. He knew it was a pipe dream, an unrealistic wish, a fantasy he had to let go of before he shattered completely. But he still let his gaze rake over them all, taking in their red kimonos, green tunics, blue armors and, unfortunately, wooden breastplates and meager leaves. From time to time he also spotted the deep green of a Kyoshi Warrior.
They all bore different faces but shared traditions, ideas, cultures, history with men and women just like them. They had their communities to go back to even once the celebration of Zuko’s coronation was over and done with. They had families and they had friends and they had homes. They bustled about, relieved that the war was over and sticking to their people, who shared in their joy.
But, of course, no one in the plaza wore yellow or orange. No one had a skip in their step. No one jumped far above everyone’s heads to try and spot a friend in the thick crowd. No one was tattooed. No one.
No one matched Aang.
Logically—realistically—he knew no magic would take place during the aftermath of the war that would bring back his people. He knew they were gone—he’d seen more skeletons of Air Nomads than he would have liked. More than anyone would have liked, really. But upon coming outside to join Zuko in front of the crowd earlier, the realization of that truth seemed to smack him in the face all over again. Because he found himself facing a sea of people—friends and strangers alike—and suddenly the missing ones became so glaringly obvious to him.
It had been such a punch to the gut after finally beginning to rediscover the peace he’d been hoping to find at the end of this war, that the second he could, Aang ditched the celebration. He was planning on getting back down there; he really, really was. But for just a little while he needed time to digest this and mourn. Mourn for the ones who would never get to see a balanced world again. Mourn the ones who wouldn’t be able to greet Aang if he wanted to go home.
Considering what the Southern Air Temple had in store for him, Aang figured that was a big if right now. He could happily live his entire life without once more seeing Monk Gyatso’s skeletal body surrounded by the remains of his attackers.
Yeah, stuff like that made him feel his age. His true age, including his time in the iceberg.
“Hey, Aang.”
He blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his thoughts, and tore his eyes away from the crowd and over to the newcomer. Newcomers, actually. He stared at his friends as they climbed up the tiled roof toward the ridge, where he was sitting. Behind them he could see a platform of earth that Toph must have bended to help them all up.
Suki had one arm around Sokka to help him climb despite his broken leg. Zuko kept on glancing back at the people below them, like he was afraid someone would look up and find him avoiding everyone else. Toph seemed to have the least amount of trouble moving about, probably because the tiles were essentially earth, so she seemed to have been the one chosen to carry a fancy-looking tray with a wide assortment of food. And Katara was ahead of them all, climbing and reaching out on hand toward Aang.
He readily bent forward and helped Katara up before she could slip straight off the roof. Once she was situated comfortably beside him, her blue eyes focused on him with all the intensity in the world and something sad flickered in them.
“Guys, what are you doing here?” asked Aang. Then, because it suddenly sounded extremely rude to him, he added, “Not-that-I-mind—!”
“We noticed you disappeared, and Toph said you were up here,” said Katara. “Are you okay?”
“Sure!”
Her eyebrows quirked upward. “Aang…”
Before he could say anything else, she brought a hand up to his cheek. For a split second he was confused by the action and his face started feeling a little hot, but then he realized the touch felt a little off. When he brought his own hand up to his face, it came back damp. Oh, so he’d been crying. That kind of made sense.
Wiping his tears away quickly with the back of his hand, he looked away from Katara and back at the people milling about the plaza. Red, green and blue greeted him once again and his shoulders slumped. Still, he didn’t let himself tear up any more. This was a good day! His friend was declared the new Fire Lord! He was supposed to be celebrating!
He startled at the sound of Sokka yelping sharply, followed soon by Suki grunting. When he turned to look at them, he found the Kyoshi Warrior helping Sokka regain his balance after nearly slipping.
“You just had to pick this place, didn’t ya?” Sokka drawled out. “You couldn’t have chosen somewhere more easily accessible. No. It’s always high places.”
“He’s an airbender, Sokka,” said Zuko. “High places are his thing.”
“He’s right,” agreed Aang.
Sokka just grumbled incoherently as he and Suki finally made it to the ridge. Toph sat down next to them, her expression blank and her hands holding the tray over her thighs. Wordlessly, she offered Aang a peach and he offered back a small, “Thank you” as he took it. Sitting down on Aang’s other side, Zuko sent one last look toward the plaza and then focused on Aang.
Rubbing the nape of his neck, the teen said, “So… you just decided to let me handle all of that by myself?”
“It’s your coronation.”
“We’re celebrating the end of the war—not just me becoming Fire Lord. You know that. These people are looking for you too.”
Aang leaned his chin back on his knee. “I’ll get down there soon, I promise. I just… needed a moment.”
“Which is the best idea you’ve ever had, Twinkle Toes,” said Toph. She popped a berry into her mouth and added, “If I have to hear one more person asking me if I need help finding my parents, I will cause a diplomatic scene.”
“This is really not the day for that,” Zuko told her wearily.
She swallowed the berries and said, “Fine. I’ll reschedule all the maiming. How’s next week working for you?”
Zuko rolled his eyes to the sky. Suki and Sokka chuckled a bit.
Sighing, Katara shook her head at their friends and grabbed one of Aang’s hands, placing it between both of her own. He stared at it as she squeezed comfortingly, then watched as the light, dry breeze ruffled her dress, making it lap at her ankles. He squeezed her hand back.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
He bit the inside of his cheek and finally said, “I miss the other airbenders.”
The others all went silent. Their eyes locked on him, care and compassion shining deeply in them as they waited for him to speak more. Well, except for Toph, who kept on staring ahead at nothing in particular while munching on the berries. But her expression appeared to be softer than before and Aang knew she was paying attention as well.
“I’m happy the war is over. I’m happy we can move forward from here and that everyone is happy and so ready to work on fixing everything that’s been damaged over this century. And we’re all alive and that’s kind of amazing to think about. But… but it just hurts. Because I don’t know what’s going to happen now.
“And… and it’s up to me to make sure my culture doesn’t just disappear entirely, isn’t it? No one else can share personal experiences about it. But I don’t remember! I don’t remember all of our festivities or traditions or historical events! These lessons were always the most boring ones! I never thought I’d be the only one left to share this information, so I never paid it as much attention as I should have!”
“Aang,” said Suki, “nobody expects you to—”
Raising his voice a little, he dropped his peach accidentally and sharply said, “But they do! All of the people who actually care about balance probably know it means bringing back the Air Nomads. And if I’m the last airbender, that’s kind of all up to me! And it’s also still kind of a part of the whole Avatar thing I’ve got going on. But how am I supposed to single-handedly restore everything that was lost when I don’t even know everything there is to know in the first place?
“Besides, I can’t even fully concentrate on that right now because the world just came out of a war that lasted a hundred years. So there’s bunch of stuff to take care of fix and work on. And that’s going to take a long time. And nobody is going to just let me disappear so I can go to the Air Temples because I’m supposed to help the whole world, not just one quarter of it. And none of them cared that they turned to a twelve-year-old to finish this war, so none of them would care about it now.”
Sokka reached around Katara to rest a hand on his shin. “Aang, we care.”
“But you all have family or a home to go back to,” he intoned dully. “Even if your families suck or if your homes aren’t perfect and need some tweaking, you still have them. All I have left is dead bodies and ruins. And now the war is over so we don’t need to travel anywhere together anymore. And… I just… I…”
He bit his lip and looked back at the crowd. Fresh tears unwittingly streamed down his cheeks as he muttered, “I don’t wanna be alone.”
Katara let go of his hand a moment before a pair of arms firmly wound around him in a tight embrace. He shifted his body a little, bringing his leg down, so he could lean into the touch and bury his face in her neck. His entire body wrecked with the force of his sobs now that he was letting his grief flow through him more freely, but he still didn’t make much of a sound beyond a bit of sniffling. With one hand, he fisted the fabric of Katara’s clothes. He wasn’t sure whether he was trying to ground himself or make sure she didn’t go anywhere. Either way, this helped.
And then someone else engulfed him from behind and a hand squeezed in and tried to offer as much comfort while being unable to reach any further into the hug. Sokka’s voice cracked as he called: “Scoot over, guys! Injured warrior coming through! Aang, I’m coming, buddy!” And since he couldn’t see, Aang had to guess that the leg that was kicking his dangling one belonged to Toph.
They stayed like that for a while. Until Aang’s body stopped trembling. Until the devouring grief became easier to bear. Until no more fresh tears came out. Until his muscles started protesting this uncomfortable position—so he figured his friends were having an even harder time, yet there came no complaints. Until his grip on Katara loosened a bit.
No one said anything when he finally drew back. They let go but remained close when he closed his eyes and just concentrated on his breaths. In and out, in and out; the rhythm soothed him and the air made him feel more like himself again. Some more tension left his body when Katara took his hand again and he willingly carded his fingers through hers before opening his eyes to look at all of his friends.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.
“Someone hit him for me,” said Toph.
“Ooh, ooh! I’ll do it!” said Sokka eagerly.
Katara shot him a look over her shoulder. “Sit down, Sokka. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Someone,” insisted Toph.
It was followed by a light pat on his back from Zuko that couldn’t possibly pass for a hit. Indeed, Toph looked unimpressed but didn’t protest. Aang didn’t even have the energy to throw his firebending teacher an annoyed look.
“I think there are some old records stored somewhere in the palace,” said Zuko. “My great-grandfather wanted all of your people gone, but maybe he also wanted to have evidence of this ‘accomplishment’.” He said the word like it was the most absurd thing in the world. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure if I look, I can find some information about your people. Not nearly enough, but… some.”
Aang perked up. “Really?”
“Maybe the Earth King will have more,” added Sokka thoughtfully. “If not him, then maybe our pal Long Feng had a stash of hidden scrolls about lost-civilizations. Honestly, who can tell with this guy. Anyway, it’s worth looking into, right?”
“Going back to Ba Sing Se,” Toph grumbled. “Yee-pee.”
Tapping her chin, Suki took a seat next to Sokka again. “I don’t think we have anything about airbenders—sorry, Aang. But Kyoshi Island will still always welcome you if you feel like taking a break. We can make sure nobody bothers you while you’re there.”
Smiling tenderly, Aang sincerely said, “Thanks, Suki.”
She smiled back warmly.
“And,” said Katara, drawing his attention to her with a soft squeeze of his hand, “of course you won’t be alone, Aang. I don’t know about everyone else, but I don’t plan on going anywhere. You are family.”
“Thought we’ve established that ages ago,” muttered Sokka before his voice brightened and he added, “but yeeeaah! Wherever you go, we go. I guess unless something happens that means we have to split up, but you know, under normal circumstances.”
Katara shot her brother an unimpressed look. Aang’s smile widened.
“Well, I have a nation to look after now,” said Zuko awkwardly. “But I’ll show up when I can. And you can always come visit.”
“Someone still has to work with you on your earthbending,” stated Toph. She put the tray on her knees and crossed her arms defiantly. “There’s room for improvement and I don’t trust anyone else to do it. Everyone else just doesn’t have the spine to push you enough.”
Suki blinked. “That’s… nice.”
Shrugging, the earthbender said, “Someone has to be tough with him from time to time, honey. And that someone is me.”
“Hey, what about me?” said Zuko.
“Eh, you turned soft the longer you spent time together. Soon enough you’ll be afraid to tell him when he messes up a move so you wouldn’t hurt his feelings.”
“Um, Toph? We’re not trying to hurt his feelings,” said Katara in exasperation. “The aim was to teach him.”
“I don’t see the difference.”
“Ha-ha, very funny.”
Draping his arm over Suki’s shoulder, Sokka asked, “When’s it my turn to train him? Is there a schedule I can see? I have some really important lessons for the Avatar too, you know.”
“Like that?” said Suki.
Whispering loudly, he answered, “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet, I’ll get back to you later.”
Aang watched them silently as they kept on bickering around him. He slowly lowered his head until his cheek was resting on top of Katara’s shoulder. The wind was drying the tear tracks on his cheeks, which he was grateful for. There was a light feeling in his chest, like a heavy load had been lifted off his heart at long last.
Surrounded by his friends—his family—he found he could finally breathe again.