Chapter Text
In the middle of a field of lavender-lilies, possibly the most sleep-inducing meadow in all of the continent, surrounded by two soundly snoring siblings, the last Airbender found himself entirely and utterly awake. Worse still, rather than snatching scraps of rest from the unforgiving night, he found himself contemplating whether he had enough basic common sense to even call himself worthy of the title of Avatar.
On second thought, Aang mused, the sleep deprivation is probably making me a bit dramatic.
Aang hadn’t necessarily ever considered himself to be the brightest in the trio of travellers- that title almost certainly went to either Katara or Sokka, both brilliant in their own respective rights, and yet, he couldn’t help but think himself utterly stupid as he flashed back to the moments in which Madame Wu had given him his fortune. He told himself that he wasn’t sure why he had asked about a girl in his reading with Madame Wu, but he was at least bright enough to know that that wasn’t exactly the truth either.
Katara. Each time he drifted off into sleep for a few precious moments, he saw her there, stark against the dying embers of the volcano’s rage, as if the flames that had lined her silhouette had emblazoned her image directly onto his eyelids in that instant. Katara. He let his head roll to the side a bit, just enough so that Katara’s sleeping form drifted into his peripheral vision. A soft breeze passed between the two, carrying her scent of sea salt, linen, and snowberries.
He blushed when, through his sleepless haze, he registered that his own hands had called the wind.
His eyes drifted past her, first to the field itself, and then to the plumes of slope just barely curling through the edges of the dark sky, like ash gathering along the edges of an ink-stained piece of parchment. His expression darkened at the sight, at the way those wisps twisted upward like smoke around the horns of the long-extinguished dragons of old. Katara’s sleeping silhouette was backlit by the field of flowers, and further still, by those faraway fires… It reminded him exactly why he couldn’t spend his time exchanging wistful glances in fields.
Yes , Katara was evidently becoming an incredible bender, meaning that she did fit right in with Aunt Wu’s predictions, and yes , he… couldn’t deny anymore that he’d been seeing her in a romantic light for some time now, but he couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep flirting offhandedly as if it wasn’t starting to mean something. Couldn’t keep selfishly wishing that the two of them had met in a world where they could be something more than what they were now. The Airbenders had always taught him to be flexible, to bend with the breeze, and yet everything in him made him want to root right to the ground where Katara was sleeping and stick to her side, always.
He hated himself, a little bit, for the selfishness of wanting more than just brief sidelong looks and brushes of hands. His feelings weren’t quite concrete yet, that was for certain, but he could feel something tugging at him to follow her, something that was worsening by the day.
He hated himself, a lot bit, for wanting to wake Katara up and steal her away, tug her hand through the field and run with her until they found a world in which he was not the Avatar and the world didn’t need saving, but that world simply didn’t exist.
Katara jolted herself awake harshly, snapping to attention like a Water Tribe warrior at the sound of the morning bells.The moment her head had hit her lumpy, unforgiving pillow (which was particularly misshapen after she’d used it to smack some sense into Aang for putting himself in direct danger by fighting a volcano) the night before, she’d been plagued with visions of that fiery inferno. Of alternate universes in which she hadn’t gotten to Aang in time. Her sleep had been restless, too light to offer any real refuge, and her mood undeniably reflected that. She kept the hood of her sweater firmly over her face to hide from the light of the early morning stillness, and based on how hesitant Sokka and Aang were to approach her all morning, she certainly had a glower to match.
Katara packed up her things in tired silence, save for a few concerned glances and “How was your sleep?”s from Aang. She of course didn’t regret it, but she somehow felt oddly embarrassed for the way she’d ran to protect him without a second thought, as if she’d shown her cards too early. The three passed through a forest trail, with Appa ambling behind them and Momo swinging between trees overhead, until Sokka tripped over a broken, charred arrow tied off with Waterbender beads. Sokka took off almost instantaneously, words tumbling from his lips as he traced the signs of battle- a charred trunk there, a bootprint there, a scuffed rock. Behind him, Aang and Katara did their best to keep pace, stumbling occasionally even as Sokka remained focused as a hunter in a snowstorm.
Katara felt her slippers sink into sand just as Sokka called back that the trail had gone cold. There was a sting in her chest at the thought of the number that must’ve been added to the death toll, only for her spirits to soar at the sight of a torn Water Tribe sail splitting the horizon ahead. She sped up, outpacing even Sokka, willing the outline of a ship to be more than a mere mirage. Katara’s slippers catching against the rough splinters of shrapnel did little to deter her, the shouts of Aang and Sokka fading into the wind as she surged again, only to come to a sharp halt once she made out the carvings on the ship’s hull.
Water Tribe. Her mind hadn’t been playing tricks on her.
Heavy steps, followed by ones so light they were almost indiscernable, altered her to Sokka and Aang’s presences. The former’s keen eyes caught what Katara hadn’t. “Dad’s carvings. It’s from his fleet,” Sokka breathed, relief at the evidence that their father hadn’t simply dropped off of the face of the arctic the minute he’d faded from view. “I’m going to go check for clues, so I can establish a timeline. You and Aang should stay out here- we don’t know how stable the boat is yet.”
“Are you serious? ‘Establish a timeli -’” Sokka disappeared before Katara could finish her eye roll and mocking imitation of his uncharacteristically formal language. Still, she was far too overcome with emotion to argue with the latest installment in Sokka’s endless attempts at claiming leadership. She sank into the sand, leaning back against Appa, who had curved instinctively to shield her from the blustering early-morning sea wind. Aang slumped beside her, his easygoing smile not quite reaching the look of concern in his eyes.
“Before you try to distract me from speculating about whether my dad’s ship is somewhere in a wreck like this one, don’t bother.” Katara’s attempt at a lighthearted chuckle seemed to catch on something invisible in her throat, coming off as a soft cough that only led to Aang skeptically raising a single unfairly perfect eyebrow. “I’m easy-breezy. Waterbenders are adaptable, and all of that.”
She waved her hand as if swatting away his concerns before he could even voice them, only to lift up a spray of sand that somehow swirled its way into her nose, which prompted a sneeze that had Momo yelping in surprise. The little monkey lemur skittered away from his place on Katara’s shoulder onto Aang’s, eyeing the former distrustfully as if she was a moment away from letting loose another unexpected sneeze.
“Traitor,” Katara seethed. Momo hissed right back at her, a sound she was sure was akin to a curse in monkey-lemur-speak. Aang’s eyes, alight with mirth, met hers, and she couldn’t hold back giggles at the ridiculousness of this silly little creature and his fickleness. Still, Katara felt oddly guilty for laughing when sitting directly across from evidence of yet another battle waged and lost by her people at the hands of the Fire Nation. She said as much, and Aang shook his head, tipping his chin skyward as his words took on a faraway quality.
“I’m learning pretty quickly that finding times to laugh even in a world where everything serves as a reminder of tragedy becomes the new normal in wartime, whether we want it to or not.” Aang’s half smile held all the unsaid words of a grieving survivor. “You shouldn’t beat yourself up over it.” His words took on his more typical mischievous tone. “You should beat yourself up for losing a water fight to an Air monk.”
Katara’s brow wrinkled, her sleep-adled mind not quite catching up. “...But I’m not losing a water figh-”
Her words were punctuated by a splash of water right to the face. Aang had darted to the shoreline in his typical feather-light way, his hands still cupped in the shallows as he chuckled at her steadily rising rage. She was oddly grateful that Sokka was so caught up in exploring the wreckage- if he was here, he would certainly join in, and she had to admit that she liked these rare moments of just her and Aang. At the very beginning of their journey, it had been a recurring fear of hers that travelling with Aang and Sokka would quickly become tagging along with a pair who wanted nothing to do with her, but Aang had done nothing of the sort. Sure, him and Sokka were undoubtedly the closest of the three- there had been plenty of long lakeside chats and hikes where the two had surged ahead, or heated debates Katara wasn’t made a part of- but Katara still felt as though there was a place for her here, still felt as though she was listened to and valued. She secretly valued these stolen moments with just Aang, held onto the memories and ran her hands over them like well-worn river stones. Even more so, she held onto the times Aang looked at her the way he was looking at her now- a grin on his face with eyes that shone with something still unidentifiable when they met hers.
Katara raced after him, eager to join the fight. Water arced through the windswept air as Aang rushed through waterbending forms with near perfect execution. Katara had found as of late that one of the biggest problems with teaching Aang all of her forms was that he now knew every single one of her tricks- as a result, sparring with him had quickly become akin to sparring with a mirror. Luckily, Katara was nothing if not competitive, so she’d thrown herself into learning new ways to execute the limited forms she knew. Aang smoothly shot a spray of water her way with a sharp elbow move that whipped up sea foam in a carefully shot breeze, and she saw her opening.
Somewhat clumsily, she stepped forward, angling her kneed in a crude imitation of Aang’s graceful movement. Hand up. Elbow out, then snap forward. She wasn’t quite sure if an Airbending movement would work on water, but she figured that the different forms of bending were at least somewhat interconnected, and her gamble paid off. Rather than being pushed by air, she sent the sea foam in front of her spraying through the air in an arc similar to Aang’s with nothing more than her bending abilities. She hit her target, accidentally giving Aang a bushy foam beard and a bit of white bubbly hair, and rather than snorting increduclously or retaliating, Aang threw his head back and laughed, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. He tugged off the upper portion of his robes, wiping his face as he chuckled, and Katara felt heat paint its way across her cheekbones, suddenly all too away of the striking figure he cut against the pale blue sky. His muscles flexed distractingly as he patted his chin and the crown of his head, and Katara had to look away, feigning sudden interest in a passing heron-crane.
“Y’know, if you’re going to mimic my bending forms, you might as well do them right.” Aang slung the now-dripping upper portion of his robes over his shoulder, shaking his head as if devastated by the butchering of his people’s traditions. Before Katara could banter back with a snappy retort, Aang was behind her, hands hovering over her forearms. “Can I-”
“Mhm,” Katara nodded, her eyes fixed at a far-off point in the horizon. Her traitorous heart hadn’t beat this quickly since before Jet had been revealed to be evil incarnate, and when she risked a glance backward, she was caught off guard by the complete lack of teasing in Aang’s expression. Katara had admittedly expected a smirk, or at the very least a raised eyebrow and an eye twinkle, but Aang’s look of genuine focus made her pray even more desperately that he hadn’t caught on to the blush on her face. She’d had crushes on Sokka’s friends before, fleeting ones that rarely lasted more than a month, and she knew that this was all it was, but that knowledge did little to calm her still-raging heartbeat. Aang’s had just begun to lightly brush her wrists, redirecting the angle of her arms, when a loud shout rang out, echoing along the cliffs that lined the ocean clearing.
Katara did her best to stifle an irritated sigh. Sokka.
“You have about three seconds to get your hands off of my sister before I restart the Avatar cycle.” The threat was obviously a lie, but Sokka’s cocked head and crossed arms conveyed enough legitimate anger for Aang to drop Katara’s wrists and step backward as if her skin had turned blazing hot. Oddly embarrassed, Katara did the same, her blush intensifying out of shame rather than the nervousness that had prompted it. She was just about ready to call Sokka a scrap of blubbery seal jerky, but Aang beat her to the punch as his eyes narrowed, suddenly focused. Katara saw it just seconds after him- a thin still-bleeding scrape lining Sokka’s cheekbone that could’ve only been made so precisely by a recently sharpened blade.
“Not sure if I’m the one that should be worried about my safety right now,” Aang retorted, his tone easy and relaxed, and Katara internally cursed herself for her sting of irritation at his lack of effected-ness following their close proximity. “Did the ship fight back? What happened to you?”
It wasn’t Sokka’s voice that answered, but rather, a low, gruff one that had played a role in so many of her childhood memories. A lumbering figure emerged from the side of the wreckage, resting a single hand on Sokka’s shoulder, and even as Aang tensed, prepared for a new foe, Katara felt her face light up in joy.
Bato.
“I did,” Bato grinned, standing strong, and Katara felt as though a ghost had returned to life.