Hope Arising
Summary: It has been a month since Aang failed to bring down the Firelord, and he's withdrawn into himself. When it comes to light that all may not be as lost as he thinks, can he pull himself together and save the world, or is he to far gone? KataraXAang later
The night was quiet, unbearably quiet, not a sound reverberated through the dark, forbidding mountains. High in the sky, the moon gazed stoically down upon the abandoned range, as twinkling stars dancing coldly all around. No birds flew overhead, no breeze dared whistle, the Western Air Temple was utterly silent.
Desperate to break the tortures stillness Aang let out a heavy sigh, and turned to stare at the plaster ceiling. It was white and uneven, just like he remembered, and had a large crack the reached down to the center of the wall in front of him. The walls themselves were still unadorned save a small ivory emblem hanging over his simple bed. Three spirals to represent the three spirits that the monks had paid homage to, the symbol of the Air Nomads.
Unable to fall asleep, Aang turned over facing the closed window. He couldn't believe how much this place had changed, and yet how much it had stayed the same. In over one hundred years the temple was still breathtaking. Though wild and untrimmed, the gardens were still blossoming, and though they were dusty from lack of use, the sanctuaries themselves were still untouched and beautiful. The echo chamber was still there as well as the enormous wind tunnels. It was almost as if there had been no war. He half expected and Elder to come and call him for midnight prayers any second.
He felt at home here, though he missed the Southern Temple terribly. He and Gyatso had explored the Western Temple so thoroughly when he had brought Aang for a visit all those years ago, that when they departed, Aang was sure he knew as well as its southern counterpart.
Gyatso he though with another sigh. Of all the things he had lost in this war, all the things that had affected him, Gyatso's death had probably hurt the most. The elderly monk had been his teacher, his mentor, his best friend. Even when all of the other Airbenders closed Aang out, Gyatso had always been there with words of council and forever ready to kick his butt in Pai Sho once he felt better. I never even said goodbye…
He flipped himself over, burying his head in the thin pillow. As comforting in its familiarity as this place was to him, it was still a cage. Here he couldn't escape his musings, here had to face head-on what he had lost, everything that had been taken away. Here he had to face the knowledge that he had failed the world. Again.
The Day of Black Sun, their one hope in defeating the Fire Nation, had been almost a month ago, and the entire thing had been a trap. Firelord Ozai's daughter, Azula, had plotted out their every move and countered it. They had lost over half of their men, and the rest, even Katara and Sokka's father, had been taken captive. But worst of all, was when Aang went to face the Firelord himself, his only chance of defeating Ozai, he was gone, hidden in some other part of the royal bunker. The eclipse had ended, and Aang along with all of the younger fighters, had been forced to escape on Appa to the Western Air Temple.
Since they'd arrived, Aang had thrown himself head first into his training. He kept up his Earthbending skills with Toph, finally learned to heal with Katara, and mastered the basics of Firebending with Zuko. But in training he could not focus, he would often stop in the middle of a move, lost in thought. This had gotten him burned more than once, resulting in mountain shaking fights between Katara and Zuko. She still didn't trust him, none of them but Aang did. But he was merely going through the motions of his fighting, there was no drive behind it, no purpose. He had lost his spunk, and everyone was worried.
He just wanted to get on Appa and fly away. Away from his loss, away from his hurt, and away from his humiliation. He had to escape the sweeping feeling of shame he got every time he looked at his friends, the aching pulsating guilt, or he would soon go mad.
He pulled himself out of his thoughts, and rolled out of bed. It was no use; he wasn't getting any sleep tonight. He crept in to the hall, and froze, listening, the wooden floor cold beneath his feet. He could hear Toph's light snores, and Katara's deep measured breathing coming from their shared room across from his. Creeping a little further down, wincing as a floorboard creaked beneath his weight, he could hear Zuko muttering in his sleep. Further down the hall Aang could hear Teo, the Duke and Haru snoring loud enough to bring down the mountain. The only person he couldn't hear was, "Sokka…"
Panicking slightly, Aang glanced up and down the hallway, when the window caught his eye. "Oh," he murmured to himself.
"Full moon tonight."
Pushing his thoughts aside he padded out through the door and onto the balcony. To his right sitting on a patch of ground illuminated by the night sky, was Sokka, oblivious to everything else, with his knees pulled up to his chest, staring longingly at the Moon. Aang looked away quickly as he saw a single tear make its way down Sokka's tired, lonely face.
Walking quickly away, Aang went to find his own place to think. None of them ever disturbed Sokka on the night of the full Moon, his night with his princess. They all understood his pain, and let him be, if only for that one night each month. He had loved her, and then lost her, now all he had left was her memory. Beneath his tough sarcastic exterior he was still pining for her, still blaming himself, still refusing to move on. They would never stop grieving for him, and he in turn would never stop loving her, his Moon, his friend, his Yue.
The scar on he back stretching uncomfortably, Aang made his way up several, winding, creaking staircases letting his feet take him where they would. Reaching a simple wooden door, he pushed it open and walked out onto another balcony, and seated himself on the edge of a rusting fountain. Glancing around he concluded that he was outside of one of the four elaborate prayer halls. Looking down at the fountain he was sitting on, he realized that it was one of the element fountains placed outside each hall. The monks, ever the believers in balance, had erected four fountains in the four corners of the temple. Scrutinizing the fountain through the layers of rust and grime, he was able to deduce that it was the fountain of Air and that he was in the northern part of the temple. The fountains of Fire and Water were in the western and southern parts of the temple, and the fountain of Earth which did not put forth earth but rather was made of it, was in the Eastern part of the temple.
Aang lay his head back against the empty basin, hating this place for all that it was. Empty. To him it stood like a beacon of what life had been like for him, what it should still be like for him, for his people. The Temple had once been proud, bright and bustling with life. Now it stood desolate, dark and empty…empty… empty….
He didn't understand. He couldn't understand, he wouldn't understand. Why did it have to be him? Why was he doomed to be the last of his kin, his family, his people? It wasn't fair! It wasn't right! Yet it was his fault, every bit of it, and he knew it. He had brought this doom on his people by only being born. The Fire Nation had come looking for him, and in doing so destroyed everything and everyone he had loved. Aang was the reason his people were gone, dead, empty…
Coming back to himself, he felt tears prick at the corners of his stormy grey eyes, and held them back. He wasn't allowed to cry, he had to be strong for the world, strong for his friends. Every one was counting on him, he wasn't allowed to break, he wasn't allowed to falter. No, not yet.
"I need help," he whispered as he drew in his knees and blinked his eyes furiously.
"I can't do this on my own…"
As the first tear escaped his control, a voice came from behind him, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"You don't have to…"