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Aang moved like the wind.
Katara first noticed it when the girl lifted herself off the snowy ground with a gust of air, her clothes fluttering as she stood and peered up at the large iceberg she just emerged from. Her eyes were wide and gray, a color Katara had never known could look so warm and inviting, and she adorned soft yellow and orange fabrics so bright she was surprised they were able to meld together in such a cohesive, beautiful uniform. The gentle blue decorating the fair skin of her scalp was the most familiar, as it was a color Katara had come to know like the back of her hand. She had never seen the color inked into a person’s skin like this, though, and couldn't help but sneak occasional glances up at the arrow gracing her new friend’s head. It looked like moving artwork. But it was the combinations of these colors together–the gray, yellow, orange, and blue–that astonished her the most. This girl was so unfamiliar in everything down from her head to her toes. She stood out against the snowy tundra like a curling ball of fire. She was a juxtaposition personified, and it should have scared her to be in such close proximity to someone who deviated from all the norms she’d grown used to.
Yet there was also something so safe in the way Aang was different. She presented herself as if she was completely free from gravity’s tether, allowed to roam the world without a care, her attention-drawing colors and the curious twinkle in her soft eyes a testament to her freedom. So as Aang hoisted herself up to sit on top of her sky bison’s head with the help of the wind, peering down at Katara and Sokka expectantly with the offer of a ride, Katara couldn’t help but feel as though she was beginning to loosen the tether gravity had on her too.
—
Aang moved like the wind.
Over the course of their time together Katara had noticed that everything the airbender did was laced with a certain characteristic of freedom that she assumed had been inherent to the Air Nomads. It was in her smile and the way she so eagerly walked the world like trouble wasn’t waiting around the corner. It was in the way she ate, her cheeks puffed up with food and her shoulders completely at ease despite the fact they’d just freed a bunch of earthbenders from their metal prison. It was in the way she sat so peacefully fidgeting with her fingers, her focus completely drawn to whatever she held in her soft hands. And it was in the way she floated so easily to a standing position, her gray eyes falling on Katara with a sense of shyness so unlike her. Katara’s heart sped up at the warmth of her gaze.
“I made you a necklace, Katara. I thought since you lost your other one…” Her voice fell softly as she held up the necklace for the waterbender to see, a smile gracing her kind features.
The warmth Katara previously felt crashed into her body like a wave. She held the jewelry carefully in her hands, admiring each detail and feeling grateful at knowing each inch was woven with her in mind. Katara had never had a friend quite like Aang before.
“Thanks Aang! I love it.” She meant every word and more.
Sitting in Aunt Wu’s room with an array of equipment Katara could only assume were used for fortune telling filled her body with unexplainable anticipation and excitement. She knew Sokka was probably right about fortune telling not being an accurate depiction of a person’s future, but it wasn’t impossible, right? After all, if spirits and the Avatar could exist, then why couldn’t the ability to read palms and bone fractures? And Katara had so many questions and hopes, ones that she had desperately held on to ever since that day her mom died, that she couldn’t see the harm in allowing her imaginations to run wild under the firm confirmation of an expert like Aunt Wu. At least for a moment.
“So, do you see anything interesting in my love line?” She asked excitedly, biting her lip in anticipation of the answer. Both her hands were held in Aunt Wu’s, the old woman staring transfixed at them, her eyes moving left and right, up and down as though reading from the most interesting scroll.
Aunt Wu gave the girl a knowing look and smiled, “I feel a great romance for you – the person you are going to marry!” Katara nearly squealed.
“Tell me more!”
“I can see that she’s a very powerful bender.”
“Oh, that’s great! Can you tell what element he– wait, did you say ‘she’?” Katara paused, raising an eyebrow and leaning back a little as she peered at Aunt Wu suspiciously.
If the fortuneteller had been caught off guard by the girl’s correction, she didn’t let it show. Instead, she smiled and patted the girl’s hand as though she had expected such a reaction. “No, my dear. I’m afraid I must have misspoken. Forgive me.”
Katara peered at the woman, feeling as though there was something more that the fortuneteller was refusing to tell her, but the earnest twinkle in her eyes and the kind lines of her smile deterred that train of thought. Before the waterbender could bring voice to her questions, wanting to prod at her about that specific misspeak, Aunt Wu had already moved on, telling her with renowned interest the information another crease in her palms read. It was all quite exciting, she had to admit, and as the fortunetelling went on and the idea of the hypothetical man of her dreams became more solid in her mind from all of Aunt Wu’s confirmations, Katara felt her curiosity of the previous mistake fade away.
Katara felt as though she left Aunt Wu’s room with more questions than before. There was so much she still wanted to know and so little time to ask it all. She determined that she would be back to prod more at the beautiful picture the fortuneteller had painted of her future life. She knew she was being a little ridiculous, grasping onto futuristic predictions, but she reasoned it was good to want to know what to expect of the future man who would fulfill Aunt Wu’s prophecy. So as she took her seat next to Aang and Sokka with a pep in her step and listened to the fortuneteller give Sokka quite the miserable reading, she couldn’t help but laugh. Now that one felt too realistic.
But as she watched Aang stand up and follow behind Aunt Wu to the prediction room, something unfamiliar and unpleasant manifested inside her gut. Sokka attempted pestering her into eating a curd puff, proclaiming through a mouth full of food that they were surprisingly delicious, but this new feeling made her appetite fade away as quickly as it had appeared. She really hoped Aunt Wu wasn’t giving Aang similar predictions about some man and romance. The airbender deserved to be happy, of course, but she couldn’t even picture in her mind a person deserving of Aang. She was so sweet and considerate, so rare and special beyond her Avatar status. There was truly no one quite like Aang in the world, and therefore there was truly no one deserving of her.
As Sokka’s pestering began to break Katara’s thoughts, she shook the annoyance away for now and took the curd puff her brother was waving in her face. There was really no reason for her to worry, after all. Aunt Wu’s credibility wasn’t definite and any prediction Aang could have would probably be Avatar-related. Everything would be just fine.
“Man, sometimes I forget what a powerful bender that kid is.”
Katara’s stomach lurched at his words, her mind immediately taking her back to Aunt Wu’s mistake. “Wait, what did you say?”
Sokka shrugged. “Nothing. Just that Aang is one powerful bender.”
“I can see that she’s a very powerful bender.”
As Aang stood overlooking the furious tendrils of smoke that had previously been violent streams of lava, Katara struggled to take her eyes off of her. What she had just done was nothing short of incredible. The way she had jumped high in the air and used her momentum to whirl the wind to her advantage, swinging it over the melting heat before inhaling and exhaling as much air as possible to blow the remaining danger away. It was phenomenal and by far one of the most powerful displays of bending power she’d ever seen. Aang took her breath away.
Katara had witnessed Aang in action several times during their journey together and knew better than anyone that she could move and fight like the wind. But today she saw her become the wind. She called upon air and prevented absolute disaster using advanced airbending moves that she made look so easy, almost as if she was the wind herself. It was beautiful and brave and perfect.
“I can see that she’s a very powerful bender.”
Aang coming into her life had changed her world in more ways than one. She'd never met another bender before, let alone a bender whose element was sowed and woven deep into the very essence of their bones. Air was characterized in every move Aang made, in every word she said, and in every breath she took. It came as naturally to her as being gentle and kind, and Katara knew she would never meet anyone quite like her.
“I can see that she’s a very powerful bender.”
Staring at her friends’ back, her signature yellow and orange robes flowing gracefully against the invisible wind, Katara felt a lurch in her stomach, her breath gathering at the base of her throat in a suppressed gasp. Her heart thudded loudly against her chest, and she snuck a curious look beside her to see that Sokka had, fortunately, not noticed her abnormal reaction to such a minor comment. Slowly, she let out an exhale and returned her eyes to Aang. The airbender was still overseeing the dying lava, her stance strong and immovable as though in preparation to fight Mother Nature again. A ridiculous part of Katara wished to see it again, just so she’d have the memory to fall back on. Aang made airbending look like a dance.
“I suppose she is.” She finally replied, her voice sounding breathless even to her own ears.
—
Katara wished she was an earthbender so she could bury herself deep into a dirt-filled hole and live the rest of her life in underground burrows. Anything to save herself from the embarrassment flushing her face and body. She thanked the spirits that their light was slowly dying, if only to hide the absolute red monstrosity that was her face.
Aang walked distantly behind her, her footsteps so light that Katara briefly wondered if the girl was even behind her at all anymore. She risked herself a glance, peering discreetly over her shoulder at the girl who was, thankfully, still following but with her head downcast. The weak flame she held gave off enough light for Katara to be able to make out the redness of her cheeks, and she immediately turned her head back forward, feeling another rise of emotion at the sight.
She couldn’t explain it, but Aang’s presence had recently started to feel different. Not in a bad way, of course, but Katara would often catch herself fixating on minor things, such as the beautiful way in which her eyelashes rested on her cheeks when she was meditating or how sometimes whenever she walked by Katara could get the faintest whiff of the most comforting wind-kissed scent. She’d even find herself transfixed on the map of Aang’s tattoos, wondering if she’d ever be able to get close enough to trace and make out the intricate designs she had noted made up the beautiful arrows. She had even asked Sokka once if he’d ever noticed how Aang had this cute little habit of scrunching up her nose whenever she was in deep concentration during their bending practices. Her brother had merely rolled his eyes at her and asked her why he would ever be paying that much attention during their training sessions. (She’s your pupil, Katara.”)
Really, all of these new discoveries about Aang were starting to fog up her head. She started entertaining ideas she’d never once thought about with another girl before–not that she knew many other girls her age before she met Aang–such as holding her hand and delicately outlining the blue-inked arrow with the tip of her finger as she asked the airbender how the tattoos were done, and kissing her cheek just for the fun of it.
Perhaps she should have taken these intruding thoughts as a warning sign to be more careful around Aang until she got this all sorted out, but alas she didn’t and ended up voicing one of these daydreams under the guise of escape and survival. Reading the legend of the first two earthbenders had unlocked a tapestry of images in her brain depicting her and Aang as a couple kissing innocently in the darkness of a secret tunnel, their deeply-rooted care for each other acting as their key to finding one another in the ever-changing cave maze. It was a ridiculous picture, no doubt, but one that just wouldn’t leave the recesses of her mind, and as their light source began to dim and they began rattling their brains with ideas of finding the way, she uttered the only idea she truly had on her mind.
“Well, what if we kissed?”
The shock on Aang’s face had made her want to eat her words. It was a stupid idea, she knew, but to have the airbender express so vocally how utterly opposed she was to the idea made a knife of disappointment stab and twist within her gut. She felt exposed and humiliated, and before she could hold her tongue, she was responding to Aang’s protests with far too much anger (“Well I don’t know which I’d rather do!”).
Now the two of them were walking as far apart as their flickering light source would allow them to without one of them being shrouded in darkness. She mentally kicked herself for suggesting such an idea and making Aang uncomfortable. She hadn’t even meant it, honestly.
“We’re going to run out of light any minute now, aren’t we?” Aang’s voice echoed in the open cave. Katara turned to face her, finding the airbender’s face covered by shadows created by their pitiful light source. Somehow, even in what must be the worst lighting in history, her face still looked kind, peaceful, and painfully pretty. Against her better judgment–and at the encouragement of the butterflies fluttering around her stomach–she approached Aang.
The details of how it happened were fuzzy, but she didn’t really think she cared. All she knew was that when the two of them finally leaned in and their lips touched in the complete darkness of the cave, she felt a heavy weight lift from her person, setting her free from a burden she hadn’t known she’d been dealing with, but knew had been following her her whole life. The kiss was merely a touch of the lips, ending as quickly as it happened, but the effect was evident. As the two parted, she noted the rosy shade coloring Aang’s cheeks under the emerald lightning. She looked pretty, but that was nothing new. What was new was the way in which she now looked at Katara. There was a trace of hope and something else flashing behind the beautiful depths of her eyes, but the waterbender didn’t allow herself the time to figure out what exactly that something was. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest at the sight, but her throat clenched with something akin to fear. She parted from Aang quickly, choosing to divert both of their attention to the glowing green crystals littering the cave ceiling. Before the airbender could get a word in, Katara turned on her heel and began running down the tunnel toward the exit. A part of her wished she had reached for Aang’s hand again to pull her along with her, but she quickly shook that thought away.
As sunlight finally broke through, she smiled and sighed against the feeling of wind brushing delicately against her. The wind felt extra soft and delicate today, whispering in her ear and floating on the surface of her skin, making her feel tingly. It reminded her of the quick touch of Aang’s lips.
Aang was like the wind.
—
“Just get out of here! Run!”
She couldn’t. As the winds swirled violently around them, darkening the sky and creating a vortex of desert sand, Katara felt her feet root themselves to the spot, as if her body physically rejected the mere thought of following Sokka and Toph to safety. She watched as Aang became tense with the anger of a hundred Avatars–her anger–before dropping her staff. The wind surrounding her condensed into a sphere.
This was too much. She was hurting. She was in pain. Katara couldn’t run.
She wasn’t sure if the others understood, and she recognized that she was only on the cusp of understanding herself, but she knew full and well that Aang and Appa shared a deep connection, one that was embedded into the essence of their souls. They had never been apart for as long as Katara had known them, and she watched firsthand how Aang had latched onto Appa following the weeks after she discovered Monk Gyatso’s skeleton and learned the fate of the Air Nomads. They needed each other for more than just companionship, but for the reminder that they weren’t completely alone.
When she realized Appa was gone, Katara saw the way her shoulders had fallen with all the pent up rage and grief that’d been simmering beneath her surface. It was the first time the mask had slipped, and Katara wanted nothing more than to piece all the broken back together. But she knew she couldn’t, and that Aang needed to feel this anger. At least for now.
As she began rising into the air, Katara found her footing again. She began walking, not really sure what her plan was. All she knew was that she needed Aang to know she was still here, and that she would never run or leave her. She stepped into the sphere of wind, not minding the harshness with which the winds whacked at her and tried blowing her away. After everything she’s done, everything she’s meant to her, Katara couldn’t fathom turning away right here. She was not letting go. Not ever.
When Aang glared at her with furious glowing eyes at her touch, Katara didn’t flinch. She didn’t back away, and she most certainly didn’t let go. Not ever. Rather, she pulled. Gently coaxing Aang’s feet back to the ground.
It’s okay. I’m not leaving. You’re not alone.
Katara knew she couldn’t piece together all that was broken, but for now, she was okay with just simply holding all the shards together. And she held tight, hoping her airbender could feel every ounce of love and care in the embrace.
It’s okay. I’m not leaving. You’re not alone.
I love you.
—
Whenever Aang fell, there was always this sense of control that came with it.
Katara knew she never had anything to be worried about when she was in the air because Aang would always swoop up at the last second with her glider in hand, laughing mischievously at Sokka’s panicked-stricken face. She would even sometimes whisper to Appa to go for a dive whenever they’d been flying for too long and were becoming bored, and although the initial jolt was terrifying, it always resulted in the four of them laughing and feeling more energized to continue their travels. Flying was horrifying, but when Aang and Appa were in control it sometimes felt safer than walking on land. The sky was their home, their domain.
But when Aang fell this time, it was different. She fell fast and hard, like gravity had finally gotten its hands on her and was eager to bring her down. There was no sense of control in her movements and the air around her was in no hurry to cushion her fall, the cruelest betrayal. She was truly falling.
Her limp body was all Katara could focus on as she raised her arms and summoned all the water within her reach to bring her over to her friend. Her mind hardly registered the muffled screams and shouts of the Dai Li agents falling victim to her desperate attempt at getting to Aang. They didn’t matter. Aang needed her. She was falling.
The relief she felt when she finally caught Aang was short-lived, quickly replaced by a sense of dread and grief-stricken nausea. The airbender didn’t stir. Aang was constantly moving and fidgeting and dancing. She couldn’t stay still for the life of her even when they were thousands of miles up in the sky atop Appa, who’d roar in delight when the airbender would finally take her glider out and begin souring alongside her companion to let out some energy. But now she was so still, cold, and vulnerable.
Katara felt sick and she, herself, couldn’t move.
She raised her head to take in the sight of Azula and Zuko closing in on them. She knew she needed to stand and fight, lest she die in these catacombs, but the thought of letting go of Aang even for a moment and risking her condition worsening was just as unpleasant. She tried focusing on their surroundings in hopes of finding a way to escape, but her mind felt foggy and heavy. The prince and princess’s footsteps sounded muffled and far away as they drew closer, and suddenly all she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat beating against her chest and the horrific lack of Aang’s heart doing the same. She meekly hitched her ear closer to the airbender’s face, hoping to feel the soft graze of her breath against her cheek, a sign of life. Nothing.
She hardly registered what was happening when a powerful orange flame covered her view of the Fire Nation siblings and an old man stepped in front of her. He screamed something back at her, and she recognized the words, but her mind was in no state to process them. But she had her opening. With the man, who she was at least able to recognize as the prince and princess’ uncle, blocking her and Aang from them, she knew this was her opportunity to escape. Summoning all the strength she didn’t know she still had, she commanded the water and rose with Aang in her arms, praying to any spirit that would listen that it wasn’t too late.
Appa let out a disturbed rumble as Katara limped closer, her arms wrapped securely around Aang. Sokka and Toph raced to meet her, but the earthbender’s footsteps were quick to slow. Katara noticed her plant her feet more firmly into the ground, her eyebrows knotting angrily as though blaming her senses for not picking up on what really just wasn’t there. It didn’t take long for the relieved look on Sokka’s face to plummet too, his eyes moving wildly as he took in every detail of their current state from Aang’s burnt clothing, Katara’s red-rimmed eyes, and the horrific stillness of their resident airbender’s chest.
There was a silent question written on both Toph and Sokka’s faces, one that the waterbender didn’t think she had the words or will to answer. Luckily she didn’t have to as Appa’s rumbling began to transform into anguished cries and roars, his big frame thrashing wildly as he landed his eyes on his rider. That was answer enough.
—
Katara thought she knew what love was.
She knew she loved Sokka. Her brother motivated her and kept her grounded. Where he was too stubborn; she was more open-minded, and where she was too trusting; he was more observant and critical. For the longest time, Sokka was her entire world and she was his. They had no one else, no one who could put their lives on the line in the way they would for each other. She knew she loved Sokka because that’s how it had always been. Sokka and Katara.
She knew she loved her father. The day he left had been the second worst of her life. She cried until her throat felt sore and no more tears would come, and she spent weeks hiding her face in the soft fur of her Gran-Gran’s coat, asking her when he’d come back and how he could possibly leave them like this. She never got a satisfying answer, of course, and quickly learned that it was no use asking anyone when things would get better because they had all lost hope that they ever would years ago.
She knew she loved her mom. It was a fact as true and unchangeable as the sky being blue and the South Pole being cold. Her love for her mom was the driving force behind everything she did and accomplished, and she was aware of it. The weeks and months following her mother’s death had been the most painful she’d ever experienced, but when she came out of it on the other side she had promised herself that she would pick up where her mom had left off. She’d protect Sokka and the village children, elderly, and vulnerable. She’d take on more chores than before so her mother’s efforts could still be felt among her village, and she’d stay awake late at night to practice the waterbending forms her mother had complimented her on so much. She’d do whatever she could to ensure her mother was never forgotten in heart, spirit, and physical efforts, because she didn’t think she could stand the thought of her mother’s memory, love, and light fading away just like everything else damaged by the war.
Katara thought she knew what love was, and she thought she knew who she loved.
But this felt different.
“Dad wanted me to come check on you. We’re all eating up deck.” Sokka sounded from behind her, causing the girl’s hunched over frame to jump slightly beneath the oversized Fire Nation robe she wore. She heard the heavy metal door slam shut as her brother’s footsteps drew further into the room. She didn’t greet him with a reply.
“We’re all really worried about you.” He said and silence stretched between them as he waited again for her to say something. She could hear his feet shuffle from side to side as he cleared his throat, “The invasion plan has been reupdated. We’re hoping to run it by you during dinner, if you show up.”
Katara again did not reply, instead grabbing a nearby clean bucket of water and scooting it closer to her. She reached for the blankets covering her airbender and pushed them down so she had access to Aang’s foot. Last night she discovered the scar on her heel, somehow having missed it in all the chaos of them hijacking this fire navy ship and the attention she already poured into the one on her back. She cursed herself when she saw it and immediately began healing the jagged skin in short sessions so as to not overwork the area. And now, it was time for another session.
As the water on her hands began to glow a faint blue, Sokka let out an exasperated sigh. “Can you at least say something?” Silence.
Katara threw herself into her work, hoping he’d get the hint that she was too busy to entertain a conversation. This scar was luckily not as physically severe as the one disgracing Aang’s back, though the energy was almost just as mangled and weak. She could only hope that since it hadn’t been the area where she’d been struck, it would take more easily to her touch.
She closed her eyes, directing all her senses to what she could feel through her healing hands. She knew from having worked a few sessions on Aang’s back that she had to start slowly, identifying the areas within the wound that were the most vulnerable and making sure to keep them from infection while carefully reaching into the mangled energy within the body. It was a slow, agonizing process that made Katara want to weep at the lack of immediate results, but she’d sooner rather die than give up.
From beyond her eyelids, she could hear Sokka let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t do this.”
Her brows furrowed and her eyelids tightened in concentration, “Don’t do what?” she grumbled.
“Don’t shut us out. You’re not the only one worried right now.”
“‘Worried’?” She scoffed, opening her eyes and watching as the glow of her water faded. She blew a small strand of hair out of her field of vision before tossing the now dirty water into another bucket nearby. Aang’s foot looked no better than before and that fact seemed to only add to her growing frustration. Why was her healing failing her now? “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course I do. It’s not like you haven’t done this before.”
Katara jolted at the reminder, immediately knowing what Sokka was referring to. Her heating frustration was now cruising at a low boil. “This isn’t like Mom and you know it.” She snapped, finally turning to face her brother. The sight of him dressed in Fire Nation armor both hurt and infuriated her to see, but it was a comparatively easier sight to behold than Aang’s precious form lying deathly still on the bed, so she narrowed her eyes at him and hoped he’d get the message that she didn’t want to have this conversation.
“But it is, isn’t it?” Sokka rebutted, ignoring her glare and gesturing with his hands as he spoke, as if the gestures somehow cemented his point, “When Mom died you shut yourself off from everyone for months and ignored all of our attempts to reach you, and I get it. I was hurting and angry too. I understand that you need your space to grieve, Katara, but now isn’t the time to start distancing yourself. The invasion plan could still work. We’re so close to the end and we-”
“Is that really all you care about?” She interjected, her tone coming off far more harsh and clipped than she intended, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Sokka froze mid-sentence at her interruption, his eyes wide and confused as he stared at her. She scoffed at his confusion before turning her attention back to Aang. There were still so many wounds and bruises littering her body that Katara sometimes didn’t know which ones to focus on besides the worst of the worst. For the meantime, she decided she’d pay special attention to the small lesions scattering her torso. At least those she knew she’d be able to heal.
Sokka, sensing that she wasn’t in the mood to elaborate, decided to push. “What do you mean ‘is that all you care about’? Ending this war should be all of our top priority. I know things are looking down right now, but we can’t afford to lose hope. Isn’t that what you’ve always said?” The low boil was now seething, her vision momentarily blurring as she lifted her airbender’s covers again to access her abused stomach. Her fingers clenched at the blankets, her knuckles whitening.
“You think I’ve lost hope?” She murmured. Her throat clogged at the devastating sight of the lightning scars tracing Aang’s stomach. They shouldn’t be there. “I’ve spent every waking hour trying to keep her with us and you think I’ve lost hope?”
She could practically hear the wheels turning in Sokka’s head, his mind working to see how best to approach this situation. After what felt like a minute, she felt a hand land on her shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that if Aang were awake-”
“Aang nearly died.” She interrupted, her hands shaking as she finally released her hold on the blankets. Her grip had left an unflattering clump in the fabric, but she paid it no mind. She felt Sokka lift his hand, probably scarred from the harshness of her tone yet again. She contemplated apologizing–he didn’t deserve that–but found she didn’t have the words. Rather, she summoned water to her hands, hoping to bury herself in her work again to avoid having to confront that mistake on top of the million others already plaguing her mind. She could have saved her. She should have seen it coming.
The water covering her hands quivered noticeably, as if mimicking the whirl of emotions clouding her mind and taking over her body. For a moment she wondered if her waterbending was acting up as a result of her own instability, but then realized it was her own hands shaking rather than the water itself. Still, that wouldn’t do. She needed to be focused and balanced–for Aang’s sake. She squeezed her eyes closed, taking a deep breath to gather herself. When she opened them, the water was in position and she allowed herself to breathe for a second at this very small, miniscule victory. Now wasn’t the time for any doubt in her ability to stay by Aang’s bedside to rise. She needed to do this. From the corner of her eye, she could see Sokka’s wide-eyed expression at her explosion and the pathetic display of her emotions affecting her waterbending. It’d been so long since water had gotten the best of her. She didn’t like that he was there to witness it. Discreetly, she raised a shoulder to wipe away a tear that had begun making its way down her cheek.
She let her hands fall onto Aang’s stomach atop a batch of purpled skin, her water accumulating its faint glow, the only visual sign she had over the past few days that something was happening as she attempted to weave and sew broken chi back together again.
Perhaps she had immersed herself too much into her work again to properly focus on anything else, but soft sniffles began accompanying the noise of Aang’s deep, labored breathing and the flow of water. As the noise registered, she thought briefly that she was crying again and nearly cursed herself before realizing that the noise was coming from behind her. She didn’t risk turning around, not wanting to take her eyes off of Aang’s painstakingly slow healing wounds but also not wanting to scare Sokka with the fact that she knew he was crying. He never took well to that.
As Katara released what must have been her fifth batch of water into her dirty bucket, she basked in the smidgen of success she felt at seeing Aang’s once battered torso return to a smooth, pale plane of healthy skin. Bruises and lesions were an easy feat, but she needed the reminder that her healing efforts were not in vain. She began reaching for Aang’s bandages, intending to remove them just so she could continue the grueling work still needed on her back wound, but stopped short when she remembered Sokka was still in the room. Finally, after what must have been close to an hour, she turned around to meet her brother’s eyes.
Sokka was no longer standing, having moved to sit criss-crossed on the floor a few yards behind her. He had removed the offensive pieces of Fire Nation armor from his person, the ugly metal heaps laying in a pile beside him. His eyes were downcast, his mind clearly off somewhere else as he toyed with a seam on his pants leg. Katara had full on intended to tell him to get lost so she could attend to Aang, but the sight of him hunched over with a vacant, vulnerable look in his eye gave her pause. She didn’t know how to approach this.
He didn’t seem to notice she had turned around, so she cleared her throat. “Uh, Sokka?”
His head shot up, his eyes going wide at the sight of her, almost as if he had forgotten she was there too. His face would have been comical in any other circumstance, but recently it was difficult to find anything worth laughing at. And in any other circumstance, the words she’d need to bridge a recently-made gap between him and her would be ready at her disposal. But, as what was starting to become a very unfortunate and annoying pattern, she was at a loss again. Everything just felt so broken and fragile, nearing on hopeless if her airbender didn’t start improving. She just didn’t have it in her to fill their silence, so she stood up from her spot at Aang’s bedside, casting one last examining glance over her form, before making her way over to her brother. He watched her curiously, probably not believing that she was finally moving more than a few feet away from Aang, before schooling his expression as she sat beside him, their knees touching.
Neither of them spoke for the first few minutes, the two of them sitting there preoccupied with their own thoughts as they watched the steady rise and fall of their unconscious friend’s chest. It was both a reassuring and stressing sight.
Katara’s eyes didn’t stray as she felt Sokka gear up to speak, his throat clearing loudly against the silence of the room. This time, she didn’t feel any of her previous frustration flare at the idea of him prodding at her. Rather, she just felt exhausted. “I uh-” He began, sniffling quietly and shifting on the floor uncomfortably. Deep talks had never been his strong-suit and she felt the ghost of a smile grace her lips at the familiar quirk of his. “I just-uh. I just wanted you to talk to me.” He whispered, his voice hitching slightly as the sentence left him. “It’s been really hard these past few days not having you talk to me.”
She couldn’t explain why, probably due to over-exhaustion, but tears began welling in her eyes, blurring her vision for what felt like the millionth time that day. A lump in her throat threatened her ability to reply and her lips quivered with the effort to force it down. She didn’t feel like crying anymore. “What do you want me to talk to you about?” She whispered back to him, grateful that they were speaking at such a low volume so as to better hide the emotion that would have coated her words.
Sokka sniffed again. She couldn’t see his face, still keeping her eyes on Aang’s sleeping form, but she could guess that he too was trying to hold back tears. “Anything. Everything. I don’t know. I just want you to talk to me.”
“Okay.”
Silence stretched between them once again, except this time neither of them had the expectation that it was going to be broken. The two sat together once more with the only sounds between them being the battered breathing from Aang and the distant waves of the ocean water keeping the ship afloat. Katara briefly wondered what time it was, remembering that Sokka had initially come to her to inform her that it was time for dinner. A dinner which he knew she wouldn’t be joining. Her mind unhelpfully wandered to her father and his crew, then to Toph, Appa, and everyone else she hadn’t seen since locking herself in this room with Aang. She wondered what they’d been doing this whole time while she took on the precious job of keeping the Avatar alive, and then felt another wave of anger flow through her at the thought that they were most definitely discussing Aang’s condition as nothing more than an obstacle to their well thought-out warfare goal.
As if sensing the negative thoughts troubling her, Sokka draped a comforting arm across her shoulders and she leaned in, resting her weight on him. Everything was becoming too much. She didn’t know if she could carry it all if Aang continued to not show the necessary signs of improvement. She didn’t know if she could continue keeping everything to herself, pushing her feelings to the side so as to not get in the way of their greater purpose. She was barely standing on her own without Aang to lean on, and she didn’t think she wanted to keep trying anymore. For once, she just wanted to fall and let it all out. And if Sokka’s words from before were true, then this was as much an invitation as she was going to get.
Her voice was hoarse from her silent crying, but she didn’t have it in herself to be embarrassed, “I think I care too much about Aang.”
Sokka didn’t seem surprised that she had spoken. Maybe they both knew she still had something to say and he was just waiting for her to gain the courage. “I don’t think you do,” He replied, his voice soft in a way she had never heard from him before. A part of her wanted to sit up to look at him, to see the softness in his voice reflected in his face, but she didn’t dare deprive herself of this physical closeness. “I think you care about her just the right amount, actually.”
A lump rose in her throat once again, only this one wasn’t backed by tears. One of her hands toyed with the fabric of her robe, needing something to keep herself occupied as she gathered the courage to continue. “You don’t understand,” She whispered, her voice sounding breathless and pleading, willing him to pick up the meaning behind her words, “I care for her in a way I know I shouldn’t.”
That felt like the understatement of the century. All her life, she had been surrounded by a loving community, one which she cared so deeply for and where knew she was needed and cherished. And yet, despite the love she felt radiating from her village and close family, she had never once seen a girl fall in love with another girl. Not even during their time in the Northern Water Tribe or Earth Kingdom had she seen such a thing. Perhaps it was an outcome of the war. She knew from her Gran-Gran’s stories that the world used to be a much safer and open place, that people used to be able to travel free from one nation to the another without fear, and live their lives without cause for concern of judgment and retribution. The war had changed all that, according to Gran-Gran, and perhaps people who felt things the way Katara did decided to hide along with everyone else. Perhaps it was naive to still believe in the peaceful world from those childhood stories, childish even to think that conflict wasn't always brewing behind the curtain all along, but hope was all she had. It was miniscule, far-fetched even with the current situation, but maybe in a world not in war she could meet more of those people.
(Maybe Aang was one of them. She hoped so.)
Sokka didn’t respond, though his silence wasn’t judgmental, that much she could tell. She knew he was waiting for her to continue, to clarify exactly what she meant. She just didn’t know if she could. She blinked hard, inhaling and exhaling in imitation of how she’d seen Aang breath when falling into deep meditation. Her voice caught in her throat but her words were clear and sure, “I think I love her.” That felt like another understatement.
The only indication she had that Sokka heard her was his arm on her shoulder wrapping more tightly around her, as if wanting to keep her by his side in light of this confession. A spark of hope flickered in Katara’s core. Her hands grew clammy as she waited for him to say something, her bottom lip finding its way between her teeth to bite at anxiously. After what felt like an eternity, Sokka unwound himself from her and Katara willed herself to not allow her hurt and disappointment to show on her face as he turned his body to face her and she reluctantly did the same.
“Are you okay?” He asked, reaching over and grabbing her hands in his, “You’re shaking.” It was only then that Katara realized she was, in fact, shaking slightly in her hands. She wondered for a second if Sokka was grossed out by how clammy they were and wished silently that he would make fun of her for it. At the very least for a bit of normalcy. Instead he embraced them fully, flashing her a smile that she’d never seen from him before. It was a combination of relief, gratitude, and pride. The tears and lump returned and the spark of hope in her core grew to a decently sized flame.
“I think so,” She started, allowing her voice to quiver and crack as tears ran down her cheeks. Again. Sokka made no move to wipe them away and neither did she. He tilted his head at her, as if to tell her that it was okay, that she could finally let it all out. He wasn’t going to judge her. He wanted to hear it all even. She grinned through her tears, and this time when she spoke, she felt a large weight lift itself off her chest. “I love her, Sokka. I really, really do. She makes me feel so light and free, kind of like the wind. Whenever she looks at me I feel like she sees all of me, all the flaws and pain, and she accepts it all anyways. I want to hold her hand all the time, but I’m so scared of losing her. That thought of her not waking up drives me crazy, and a part of me wants to shake and scream at her for making me feel this way because we’re in a war and all of our attention should be on ending it–you were right about that, I know–but I can’t help but feel that even if this war is declared over, if it means her life must come to an end, that that would be no victory at all. I love her, selfishly so. And with the invasion coming up, I feel like I love her too much.”
Her cheeks heated up at the end of her confession. She couldn’t believe she had just said all that out loud with Aang no less than a few yards away from her for that matter. She dipped her head, trying to suppress the relieved smile that had implanted itself on her face, but it was no use. It felt too good to let that all out. She felt like she was floating on wind for the first time since Aang was struck down. She heard Sokka chuckle good-naturedly and she looked up to see him grinning just as brightly. It was in moments like these, with his smile so big, that she could see Mom mirrored in his face.
“Then it’s kind of like I said,” He whispered to her, pulling her in for a tight and very much needed hug. “I think you love her just the right amount.”