Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to Avatar: the Last Airbender. This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.
This story is set about ten or so years after the finale.
Homecoming
The conflict in the Hei Sha district drags on another full month before at last an accord is reached. The treaty is formalized in late spring, as the fragile blossoms of the spring cherry fall in heavy, white showers that swell and ebb in accordance with the whims of the wind. Aang stands at the heart of the palatial gardens and turns his face against the sun, into the breeze which rises cool and sweet from the east.
The queen-mother extends an invitation to him. "Will you not remain among us, O Avatar?" she asks politely. "We shall feast on this day and all the days remaining in this month, so that we might celebrate the peace you have brought us. It would give us great pleasure if you were to join us for this time of joy."
Alone before the queen-mother in the ornate throne room, Aang bows at the waist, his hands folded in an approximation of the Hei Sha salute. He straightens. The queen-mother's face is elaborately painted, her eyes obscured by the fall of her veil; respectfully, he looks instead to her hands.
"I'm honored by your invitation," says the Avatar. "I have seen much of your district over the last few months, and where there is no war, I have seen beauty, and where there is war, I have seen the promise of beauty. I have spoken with many who are cruel and given to hate, but I have also met with generosity and grace, and I have seen others met with the same kindness of spirit."
He smiles at her hands, folded so neatly in her lap. He thinks of another woman, a beloved woman, whose hands are calloused and more graceful by far.
"But I would like to go home," says Aang.
"Then go," says the queen-mother, "with our blessing and our gratitude. May your journey be swift and the path clear before you."
Aang bows again. "Thank you."
"You have no need to thank us," says the queen-mother. "It is we who must thank you, O Avatar."
And she bows so her forehead touches the polished stones at her feet.
*
Aang finds Appa curled up in the shade of the outer wall, paws tucked against his belly. He opens his eyes at the sound of Aang's whistle. He grunts.
Aang reaches up to scratch Appa's ear, his fingers nimbly parting the fur. Appa closes his eyes and wriggles closer, butting his head against Aang, who laughs and dances away.
"Let's go home," Aang says.
Appa yawns and beats his tail against the ground, stretching his legs out one by one. He whuffs deep in his throat.
"Me, too, buddy," Aang tells him. "But we'll be home soon."
When Appa kicks off the ground, a cloud of dust and white cherry petals rises beneath them, dancing in erratic circles around the courtyard.
*
The districts of the Earth Kingdom pass, green and brown and speckled with riotous color, and now he is crossing the ocean. Aang flies alongside Appa for an hour or two, riding the currents and creating his own to mimic the movement of the waves so far below. Soon the open ocean will begin to vanish beneath a layer of ice, growing thicker the further south they fly.
Aang watches for the first flash of white on the horizon and thinks of: the way her mouth creases when she is angry and will not speak of it. The fluid curve of her spine and the rippling of her arms as she assumes the octopus form. The way his name cracks in her throat when she laughs: Aang! Her fingers on his throat, her lips at his jaw, her hair brushing his cheek, loose and dark and scented faintly of oranges: perfume, a wedding gift from Mai.
On the horizon, a trace of ice.
"Almost there," he tells Appa.
Appa growls and turns with the current, his head angled toward the horizon.
*
His arrival is fortuitous: her students break from class to mass together near the edge of the practice ground, running along the ice and shouting up at him as they wave their greetings.
"Welcome home!" they shout, their small voices growing large as Appa draws near, circling lower and lower. "Welcome home! You're home! Welcome home!"
Appa drops to the ice with a muffled crunch and to the delight of several of the younger students, immediately flops down onto his belly, one leg casually stretched out as if in welcome. They waste no time in racing to Appa and up him, their fingers latching onto his fur.
Aang twists his arms and rides the breeze down, winter coat fluttering gently about him. He taps down on the ice with practiced ease.
"Welcome home!" a student shouts, now perched high on Appa's shoulder.
Katara stands before him, her wrists settled on her hips, hands turned out. She arches her eyebrows. He cannot stop smiling.
"I was in the middle of a lesson, Aang," she says.
"My apologies, Sifu." He means to bow to complete the joke, but instead he twists his hands just so, calling a breeze to help him along so that he crosses to her in two steps instead of five.
Katara cups his face in her hands, her fingers chill against his cheek. "Twenty ice pulls and I'll consider your punishment complete," she tells him. Her cheeks are chapped high along the ridge of bone, where the wind has whipped the skin dry.
"That sounds fair," Aang says and he kisses her.
A child laughs. "Hush!" another student scolds. "And don't point!"
They separate, Aang fumbling an apology. Katara guides him down to her again.
She slips her hands down his throat and around his shoulders, drawing him close to her. He touches her waist; his thumb presses into the hollow of her hipbone, muffled and obscured by the fall of her fur coat. She smells faintly of sweat and beneath the sweat, of ice and the scented oil she uses to smooth her hair. Aang buries his face in her shoulder.
"I'm home," he says.
Katara kisses his ear. Her breath is a sudden warmth blooming against his jaw.
"Welcome home," she says.
This story was originally posted at livejournal on 08/21/2009 in response to the 08/21/2009 prompt for Kataang Week (Summer 2009 Edition), "reunited."