The room was far too big for the one bed it contained; a bed composed of an elaborate, wooden frame. The wallpaper was peeling in the high corners, but it was still a pretty pattern of squares. The floor was a light oak, which looked nearly white under the fluorescent bulbs. It washed out the entire room. The colorful, bustling city down below could not reach this single bedroom, which was deafeningly silent.

Councilman Sokka lay on the bed, sitting upright but lolling his head against the bed's wooden headboard. He looked peacefully asleep with his rhythmic breathing. Soft cream sheets were pulled halfway up his torso. His thin hair was as white as the pillowcase beneath it. His arms lay folded over his belly, the right hand clasping the left wrist, which was safe in a casted binding. His breathing was steady and easy; if one neglected to see his left wrist, the man would look completely healthy: his face full and his expression painless.

An old woman approached the lone bed. She wore a blue dress made for summer (the city could get so hot this time of year) and her white hair was combed smooth behind her in a long, low braid. She smoothly rested her hip on a vacant spot on the bed, and gently laid a hand on the knee of the man, who then immediately opened his eyes. Despite looking it, he hadn't been sleeping. He said nothing, his lips pursed in obvious worry, and waited for her to speak.

"How do you feel?" she asked with concern. She squeezed his knee, a vain attempt to show reassurance.

"I've been worse. Are we home? How did I get here?" Sokka asked with genuine interest in the matter.

"After you collapsed, we thought it best to get you far away from the South Pole when you learned what happened," she answered calmly, picking and choosing her words diligently.

"They didn't get her did they?" he suddenly demanded.

"She's safe. Zuko was able to keep them at bay until reinforcements arrived. They've all been taken captive."

"What? How? Katara, I told you—I told all of you—they cannot be contained. There isn't a prison out there that can hold them."

"And I've told you: we designed a flawless system. None of them can ever get out. Ever, Sokka."

Sokka looked away in obvious distrust. "I don't like it," he said, folding his arms, as if the motion made his stance unwavering. "As long as they're alive, they're a threat to Korra. And the world."

"What were we supposed to do? Kill them?"

Sokka said nothing but looked coldly at Katara, holding her gaze with a fierce expression that clearly meant yes.

"Aang wouldn't have allowed that," she said without hesitation, the fire behind her blue eyes sparking in passion.

"But Aang isn't here. And his rosy glasses are the reason Korra was in danger," Sokka argued. It was a low blow. Katara immediately retracted her hand from Sokka's knee and folded them in her lap. She went silent, having nothing to say. She knew there was no hope in convincing her brother, and she was frankly too tired to fight with him over it.

So instead, she turned the conversation back to him.

"How does your arm feel? Let me see it," she stretched out her hand, palm up, and he placed his in hers. At her touch he winced. She tutted.

"You need another healing session," she said, the judgement clear in her voice.

Sokka chuckled dryly, "You want to heal my pride along with it?"

"Something about that statement may have just injured your pride more," Katara smirked, the jest clear with her tone. She began to unbind the injured hand.

Sokka let out a real spurt of laughter. "Nice one, sis. Maybe you can be taught."

Katara said nothing but smiled kindly. Something about her smile seemed off—perhaps hesitant or too forced. Sokka cocked an eyebrow at her.

But she wasn't looking at his face. She was busy bending the water from her pouch around his mangled hand, which was truly a sight to see. The flesh on the thumb was slightly burned, but that seemed to be the least painful. A long laceration lined the entire back—gaping and red and flaming. Katara could just make out a spark of white against the pink and red: the metacarpals, exposed underneath the flesh. The muscle tissue on the palm side was al torn up—brush-burned and bruised, but not quite bleeding.

"Spirits, Sokka, which one got to you?" Katara began as she worked her water over the hand's mountains and valleys.

"I don't know...At first I thought it was lava, but since I can't find my sword either, I'm starting to wonder if I got too close to P'li's fire." Sokka shrugged.

Katara didn't respond at first; she was focusing all her energy on her brother's marred hand. After the glow of water had faded and she returned it to its canister and re-bandaged Sokka's hand, she spoke.

"You were lucky."

"I know."

…

"Katara, a progressive-thinker such as yourself must know the world no longer needs the Avatar. Her time as passed."

Katara faced Zaheer alone. The two were just ten feet apart and in deep thought. Sokka approached the scene warily. It was dark. Too dark to see clearly enough. He had to be careful.

"Like hell it has," Sokka responded, from the shadows. He was waiting for the right time to act since it had been Katara that Zaheer approached. Katara alone. Sokka snarled at the bald man; how dare he single out his sister.

"Balance is essential, and the Avatar disrupts that balance. Throwing so much power into the hands of one man is a dangerous feat. Look at how the world has suffered because of it!"

Sokka glared at the man. He said no words, but instead decided to let his boomerang do the talking. One sharp, hardly noticeable flick and Sokka's boomerang was sailing towards Zaheer, turning through the wind until finally crack!

The sharp metal edge made contact with Zaheer's left eyebrow and then fell gracelessly to the ground at Zaheer's feet. The bald man looked around for the source of the attack, and it was then that Sokka stepped out, his feet crunching the ice beneath his feet. They were in the Southern Water Tribe, not a full mile away from where the four-year-old Avatar lived. Her life was being threatened before she even comprehended life itself.

"Get out of here, Zaheer. You are not welcome," Sokka spat. Zaheer's eyes turned fiery. He cocked a haunting smirk at the siblings, blood just nearly gushing from his left eye brow. It had already coated his eyelid and was now trailing down his cheek. Head cuts always did bleed more.

"I didn't want it to come to this, but you have given me no choice," Zaheer's voice was threatening and his glare nearly terrifying, but Sokka held his ground.

"Two against one? Gladly," he said darkly, reaching his hand to the hilt of his sword. It didn't help that he knew Zuko was on his way and Tonraq was less than a mile away.

But just as the words came off his tongue, three new faces came into the light (the little that the moon offered). Sokka knew these characters by name, though he had never fought the Red Lotus. His grip on his sword tightened. They would need a lot of help.

"Remember this, Master Katara and Councilman Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe: I did ask nicely."

The ice beneath his feet suddenly turned to water.

…

"A brisket hoagie, please," Sokka ordered as he approached the stand of SandwichLord and Family.

Sokka reached for the small brown paper bag (with his right hand, mind you. Two weeks since the fight, and his left hand still wouldn't curl properly), and left the man a sizable tip in exchange. He walked down the cobblestones towards the ferry that could take him to Air Temple Island. He was supposed to be meeting Katara and his nephew there, but he didn't know why. Katara had just said "it's urgent" and Sokka demanded no more information.

He could just see the dock in the distance. Aang's statue was enormous even from here. He opened his brown sandwich bag.

I don't know what we're gonna do without you, buddy, Sokka thought to himself, reminiscing his friendship with the airbender. And he meant it, too. Aang kept the world in check. He was an amazing Avatar. An even better friend. What was the world going to do without him?

Sokka held the small, cylindrical sandwich up to his eye. The bread of the sandwich was coated in a soft, white fuzz. Mold. Sokka yelped in disgust, reminded himself why he never bought food from corner stands, and continued his walk to the ferry, after depositing the moldy sandwich in a nearby trashcan.

Sokka thought back to when he mentioned to his sister that they should have killed Zaheer and his followers. She'd been right in saying Aang wouldn't have allowed that. When Sokka was younger and Aang still walked the physical world, Sokka only saw Aang's persistence as a hindrance. The man could not form a backbone, no matter the situation.

And now as Sokka was settling nicely into old age, it was occurring to him that Aang's impenetrable optimism was the only tie that kept the world together, in peace. His refusal to fight (but also to back down) was an amazing quality. He believed in compromise; he trusted the good of others. And it kept everybody safe and happy.

Sokka was hungry. And Aang was gone. Why did everything seem so depressing lately?

And Sokka couldn't help but think that the Red Lotus had chosen a very specific time to form. Aang had moved on just over four years ago. And a lot had changed in that time: Sokka and Katara were living under the same roof once again (Katara didn't want to return to living alone, and Sokka hadn't realized how very lonely he was until Katara was back in his life). Toph had stayed in the city for a long time, but recently she'd taken to exploring the world. Who knows where is now—perhaps in some distant swamp or forest or village. Anywhere or everywhere, Sokka couldn't be sure. But when Toph was in Republic City, Sokka did often talk to her—the two had important city matters to discuss. But city was all they every talked about. The streets and the gangs and the crime and the this and the that…

It wasn't until Katara was back in his life that Sokka realized what he'd missed most about having Aang around was a friend. A friend like no other, too. Aang was such an inspiration. Where did the world stand without him? How could this new avatar—Korra of the Southern Water Tribe—compete with the greatness of Avatar Aang. Aang was a remarkable person—a fact that was only exaggerated in his Avatar state. How was the world going to function without him? If the past few weeks were any sign…

It didn't look like a bright future.

"A token for the ferry, please," Sokka announced to the stout man behind the counter. He hadn't even realized how far he'd walked, but he was suddenly on the dock.

"Just one?"

Sokka gave a short nod.

The man handed him a gold coin, and told him, "Ferry's set to leave in just three minutes."

Sokka gave his thanks and boarded the boat.

For some reason being on the water like this reminded him of his adventures as a child—with Aang and Katara and Toph. Another thing he hadn't known he'd missed: the water's steady ebbing and rhythmic swaying. It was calming. He really should get on the sea more often.

It wasn't until Sokka's eyes passed the magnificent statue of Aang that he realized the boat had been moving. Once again Sokka had neglected to notice the goings-on of the world around him, and now he suddenly found himself disembarking the ferry and walking down the dirt path on Air Temple Island, toward the temple. He tried to get out of this funky gloom hovering around him, but he felt that all the anxiety and nerves that had been building in him since fighting Zaheer were now too full, and it was nauseating to know that the entire situation was out of his control. There was nothing he could do.

"Sokka!" Katara's enthusiastic voice sounded from the archway of the temple. She waved, despite Sokka still being several paces away from its entrance. Sokka suddenly felt so much better. Spirits, he loved his sister.

"Hi Katara," he greeted when he'd gotten a little bit closer. Despite having seen her earlier this morning, he hugged her. He hadn't realized how much he missed her.

"Come, come. Pema's made some small dumplings."

Sokka cocked a sad smile, "Meatless, right?" Spirits, he was hungry.

"Completely vegetarian," Katara answered, predicting Sokka's response and adding, "Don't feel too bad: I bought a bag of Val's Seal Jerky downtown today."

"Ya don't say! Well that's what you should've opened up with!" he remarked.

At the short, floor-table of the air temple, Tenzin and Pema were kneeling beside each other. At the sight of Sokka, they both rose and Tenzin greeted his uncle with a bow.

"Uncle: it's a pleasure as always."

Great, tan arms enveloped the bald, arrow-headed man in an enormous hug. "Always the serious one, my nephew. No need for bowing." Tenzin awkwardly hugged him back.

All four individuals took a place at the small table. A pot of floral-smelling tea was on the table, so Sokka took the liberty of pouring himself a small cup. He then caught Katara's eye and remembered to pour some for everyone. Close to 80 years old and he still hadn't learned.

As he poured the fourth cup of tea, Sokka opened up, "So, sis, why go through all this?"

Katara's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Something about her expression seemed nearly sad, actually.

"Wanna get straight to it then, huh? Well, all right." She paused; everyone eagerly waited.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking. Korra's life was threatened for the first time two weeks ago. Since she was introduced as the Avatar so early in life, I fear this may just be the beginning. Korra will face plenty of apposition, but there is no need for her to get a jump start on that."

"Previously avatars were told of their fate on their 16th birthday," Tenzin added. "Korra's case is most peculiar. She is able to bend three elements. There's no keeping this from her."

"Yes, Tenzin, that was my fear. We need to be straight with her. There cannot be any question of her right to know our plans for her. That is why I've made an important decision." Katara paused once again to gather her thoughts and sip her tea.

"I will go to the South Pole to guide the new Avatar."

…

Sokka was losing. He was actually losing. When was the last time Sokka needed help in a fight? In his teen years, he'd assume.

"Katara, how are you doing?" Sokka yelled to his left. He knew people were on their way; he just hoped they were quicker.

"I'm hangin'."

Sokka swung his sword to the left to break up flying icicles. The shards fell down just two feet in front of him. He ran forward, charging with the point of his sword out and struck to his right. He nearly grazed the shirt of Ming Hua, but she was too fast. In her young age, her agility and ability were superior to his own. He thought of Master Piandao. He needed to use his location to his advantage. Except that they were surrounded by water.

Maybe not quite so surrounded… Sokka thought.

"Katara!" Sokka suddenly shouted. "Can you bend a hole in the middle of this ice?"

"WHAT?!" Katara screamed back at him. She was busy tackling P'li and Gazan. Luckily, Korra's father had joined to help them and he was keeping Zaheer at bay.

"I need solid ground!"

"I'm a little busy!"

Where was a firebender when you needed one…

A flare of fire suddenly erupted in Sokka's peripheral. He turned. An inch from his face, a giant flame breathed. It completely consumed him.

…

Sokka stared into the great, stone eyes of Aang. He felt an ache in the pit of his heart for the airbender.

"You're not mad at me are you?" Katara looped her arm around his. They both leaned over the iron railing of the ferry, heading back into the city together. She must've mistaken his deep thought for anger or perhaps sadness.

"Of course not," Sokka assured her with a smile. "I'm gonna miss you like crazy though." He hated how whiney his voice sounded when the words came out his mouth.

"Come with me," she encouraged.

"Nah, my duty's here, and we both know that. With Aang gone and Toph missing… we're gonna need one last founder in this city. I have to make sure our vision prevails, Katara. It has to."

Katara beamed at her brother and rested her head against his shoulder.

"It's funny how things turn out the way they do," she nearly whispered, her eyes focused on the statue of her dead husband.

Yes. It really is.