Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or Legend of Korra.
A/N: Hello readers! I hope you're ready for a bit of drama, a bit of angst, and a bit of bittersweet hope. This fic was actually the first one I wrote when I became inspired by the LoK universe. Now, for anyone who hasn't necessarily been following the information as it's been made known to the fandom, then consider this fair warning, you may come across a few spoilers. If you don't want to know confirmed details about the series, then turn back now, or if you're like me and can't get enough information to quench your thirst, then please read on!
Enjoy!
Lifetimes
'Do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?' – Toph
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Korra looked up anxiously when the Water Tribe shaman entered the room. She locked eyes with the old woman, searching for hope, but finding only melancholic acceptance. Master Tenzin followed behind the shaman, his eyes dark with controlled grief.
The seventeen year old felt a vice squeeze her heart.
"How much longer?" asked the lithe, beautiful middle aged woman who had been pacing the circular main room Korra found herself confined in for the better part of nineteen hours.
"Anytime now. Before the sunrise," the shaman answered, throwing some feathers and fragrant roots into the fire pit before bowing her head in prayer. Tenzin opened his arms to the fidgety woman, holding her as she breathed heavily against his shoulder, fighting back tears. Korra kept her eyes directed on the heavy curtain across the room.
"Kya, where's Bumi?" Tenzin asked once the woman had calmed herself.
"Outside. He's been bending like mad since you went in to see mom," she answered. "He's not taking this well."
"I wouldn't expect him to," the airbender replied.
"You know what I mean," Kya huffed, the corners of her mouth barely crinkling in amusement at her youngest brother's stiff observation. "You should go talk to him. He never listens to me."
"He'd probably rather spar with you."
"The Southern Water Tribe is already grieving losing its most beloved Master. It hardly needs me and Bumi waterbending the village into the ocean."
Tenzin smiled, albeit a smile laced with sadness, then kissed his sister on the forehead.
"I'll go talk to him," he promised. "What will you do?"
"Go back to the hut. Katara will want to know what's happening."
"When did she arrive?"
"A few hours ago. She and Naku came straight from the North Pole when they got my letter."
Brother and sister stayed silent a moment longer, each preparing themselves for the duties that would befall them with the sunrise. Kya moved first, thanking the shaman for all her kindness before exiting the hut to go and speak to her daughter and son-in-law. Tenzin stayed back, turning his attention to the young, quiet Avatar. There was no need to tell Korra what was happening to the woman behind the curtain. The air around them was thick with death, and since Korra was the only human in all the world that could bridge the physical and spiritual planes, surely she had to know.
Master Katara was dying.
He approached his catatonic student, disturbed by her silence, her stillness. It was so unlike Korra. It merely affirmed for the airbender that his mother's time on earth was quickly dwindling. Reaching out, he squeezed the teenager's shoulder. She barely tilted her chin in response.
"You should see her."
She wasn't certain if it was her teacher's words, her own volition, the urgency against time, or something else locked deep within her soul that spurred her on, but Korra found herself pushing back the heavy woolen curtain and standing at the threshold of Master Katara's sickroom. The teenager took small, light, hesitant steps into the room, afraid to approach the lone bed tucked near the window, unprepared to see the shadow of death wrap around the soul of someone she loved so much.
Master Katara was still breathing, her chest rising up and down, but each intake seemed like a painful burden for the old woman. Soundlessly, Korra sat on the stool that Tenzin had occupied for the last several hours, afraid to touch anything else in the room, afraid to even look at her waterbending master.
Master Katara, the staple of her life. The old woman had been with Korra through everything, standing by her when she was announced as the Avatar to the Southern Water Tribe, disciplining her in the art of waterbending, encouraging her through the hardships of intense training, even chaperoning her as she studied under other bending masters. It had never really occurred to Korra that, as the years passed, Master Katara's hair got whiter, that the lines on her face deepened, that her steady steps became slower, and that her eyes tended to stare off into nothing, admiring visions only she could see. Every memory Korra had of her life in the Southern Water Tribe, Master Katara was there. The imminent loss of this reliable constant left the teenager feeling helpless and empty. It was the first time she had encountered death, her youth having been blessed with ignorance of this final stage in the mortal cycle.
It occurred to Korra then that, as the Avatar, she herself had died over a thousand times, so really, death was not so new or frightening. But an Avatar did not remember their past lives. They lived strictly in the present, their memories of past incarnations existing somewhere on a higher plane where only the spirits could know them. Despite her training, the ruthless meditation exercises that Master Tenzin forced upon her everyday for the last three months, Korra was still unable to connect to the Spirit World and the knowledge of the previous Avatars. Powerless, she wished she could access those memories to help her cope with this uncomfortable moment.
She watched Master Katara for a few minutes, trying to find words or thoughts or prayers, but nothing came. She moved to leave the room when the old woman began to stir, her glassy eyes opening so very slowly and focusing on Korra, looking straight through her.
"Aang?"
Master Katara's voice was gravely and weak, the voice of someone dying. Korra knew that she should correct Master Katara, tell her she wasn't the old woman's dead husband come back to comfort her in her final moments. But then Master Katara's lips twitched in a soft smile that made her look decades younger, and her eyes began to gloss over with tears. So, the seventeen year old tenderly took one dark, wrinkled hand in her own and squeezed.
"Yeah, it's me," she whispered. It wasn't a lie, really. She was the Avatar, and one lifetime ago, she had lived as Aang, Katara's beloved husband. Korra did not resist when Katara shakily raised their joined hands to her mouth where she could kiss the girl's knuckles.
"I'm so glad," Katara rasped. "I'd hoped…I've wanted to see you again for so long. It seems I'm always trying to find you."
"I'm here. You found me," Korra answered, feeling as if she wasn't quiet within her own body.
"Have you come to take me to the Spirit World?"
Korra didn't speak. Her tongue was leaden in her mouth.
"I'm ready to leave," Katara sighed, her breaths hitching as she spoke. "We lived a happy life together, didn't we, sweetie?"
"Of course we did," Korra replied, leaning in closer to catch every word that her friend and teacher uttered. She had pulled their joined hands against her chest, squeezing the old woman's fingers in a desperate, futile bid to keep her tethered to the world. Katara closed her eyes, and Korra feared it was the end, but the old waterbender was soon blinking up at the teenager, scrutinizing her, seeing but not seeing.
"Tell me, do you think friendships can last more than one lifetime?"
It was an odd question, tinged with loss and hope, and somewhere deep within Korra's shattering heart, it echoed like a ripple into her spirit.
"I don't see why not."
The words came from a place Korra couldn't define, but she knew they were the right words when Master Katara smiled. She took a deep breath then and it seemed to Korra that she could see the old woman's spirit beginning to leave her body.
"I've always loved the feel of your heartbeat," Katara said softly, the frail fingers in Korra's grip caressing the spot over the girl's heart. "It always brought me…peace."
Peace. It was a dream she had strived for as a child, had fought for as a warrior, had claimed as a hero, and kept true as a guardian over the Avatar. It was her life's work, and in the end, it was her last word, her final comfort.
Korra felt her teacher's hand go slack in hers, watched as the old woman's plump body ceased breathing. The sickroom was filled with an ocean of sadness that receded like the tide, leaving a strange stillness and calm in its wake.
Korra was empty of anything. She couldn't speak, or think, or move. So she sat devotedly at Master Katara's bedside, keeping the old woman's hand clutched tenderly against her heart.
It was how Tenzin and Bumi found her an hour later.
While they respectfully covered their mother's body, they gently persuaded Korra to release Katara's hand, urging the seventeen year old to go to her parents' hut and rest. Without a sound, Korra did as she was asked, and left.
The whole of the Southern Water Tribe was present at Master Katara's funeral. Members of the White Lotus, the Fire Nation royal family, even, curiously enough, a waddle of otter-penguins came to pay their final respects. Kya, Bumi, and Tenzin were gracious, greeting all who had come to honor their mother. Korra stood close to her airbending master, saying little, her focus trained on the pyre where Master Katara's body lay. When it was dark, and Yue was shining in the sky like a polished sickle, the Water Tribe shamans began to chant, drummers beat out the funeral march, and every family present lit a single lantern, the orange glow casting strange shadows over the snow and ice. After the prayers and blessings, all that was left was for the children of Master Katara to say their parting words.
Tenzin spoke first.
"She was a master waterbender, a renowned sifu, a peacemaker." His voice cracked, the words catching in his throat and making him sound very unlike the strict airbender that was his reputation. Right now, he was a son in mourning.
"She was a wonderful grandmother," Kya added, her arm wrapped snuggly around her daughter, the younger woman wiping away her tears furiously.
"She was a perfect mother," Bumi grunted, his voice breaking under the strain of his grief.
And that was all that needed to be said. Tenzin looked to Korra and nodded. Without acknowledging him the seventeen year old approached the pyre. Her movements were mechanical, far too precise and not at all passionate. Taking her stance, she slammed her foot onto the ice, breaking it away from the shore so that the pyre began to float out to sea. Using her limited power of airbending, Korra pushed the small flow further out, and then, with a sweeping kick and double fisted strike, she set the pyre on fire, using her firebending to encourage the flames to lick at the dry wood and seaweed. The tribe watched as Master Katara's pyre drifted out into the ocean, set ablaze under the crescent moon.
"She was my Forever Girl," Korra whispered, speaking more to the wind than to anyone, her voice heavy with anguish.
Catching her words, Tenzin inclined his blue eyes sharply upon his wayward student, shocked. No one save he, his brother and sister, knew that their father often called their mother his 'forever girl', a private and cherished endearment. But Korra had been Aang once, and although she did not carry his memories, surely her spiritual training would allow her some access to the memories of her previous lives.
She was a long way from enlightenment, but the Master Airbender felt that, perhaps, Korra had at last set foot on the path to the Spirit World.
He moved to speak with her, but Korra turned and walked away from the burning pyre, her eyes full to bursting.
But she never cried.
It took five days of nearly non-stop flying on Tenzin's sky bison to return to Republic City. The trip was uneventful, nearly lifeless, and it worried Tenzin that Korra was acting so unlike herself. She kept quiet, tucked into a corner of the saddle as they flew, sleeping most of the time and eating very little. She was clearly affected by his mother's death, a cloak of sorrow seeming to rest over her shoulders, but the teenager stubbornly refused to allow herself to truly grieve. Korra kept her pain locked away, rejecting its existence. Tenzin knew that Korra's actions were harmful, not only to herself as a young woman, but also to her very function as the Avatar. If she could not find a way to move on past her grief, to accept not just Katara's death but also that she had no control over it, then her chakras would be bogged up, and her spiritual energy would be unable to flow. She would never become a full Avatar.
"I can see the island," he announced, his own heartache already lightening at the thought of being with his family again. Korra just nodded, staring blankly at the Republic City skyline. "Korra, I want to talk to you when we land," he said, his stern tone promising a long lecture. She didn't even protest, as was her normal routine, just nodded.
As they approached Air Temple Island, Tenzin could see a figure standing beside a hulking white mass, waving up at him as he descended.
"Is that Bolin?"
At the mention of her friend, Korra looked over the edge of the saddle. It was Bolin, standing with Naga near the gardens, waving at them like a crazed moose-lion.
"Tenzin, you're back!" the teenager exclaimed, his eyes bright with eagerness.
"Is everything alright?" Tenzin wondered as he dismounted his bison.
"Oh, yeah, of course! I mean, nothing's wrong really, just well..." he scratched the back of his neck, a nervous gesture that Korra always found cute.
"Bolin," Tenzin stressed, towering over the teenager.
"Well, you see," he started, taking a deep breath, "when you were gone, Pema –"
It was all Bolin got out before Tenzin was rushing past the boy and into his home, using his airbending to accelerate his run. A bit stunned by the odd behavior of the staid airbending Master, Korra shrugged and went to pat Naga on the nose, glad to see her oldest friend.
"So what about Pema?" she pressed as Naga licked her under the chin. Bolin shook Korra out of her glum daze when he took hold of her hand. His green eyes were bright with excitement, and he was flashing her that devastating smile that had broken half the female hearts in Republic City.
"Just come and see," he urged, and Korra couldn't find the strength to argue, even though all she wanted to do was curl up with Naga in the stables and be miserable. Letting him lead her, Korra found herself being taken into the air temple and down the corridor she knew led to the nursery. The door was open, but Master Tenzin's tall frame was blocking the view into the room. Bolin slipped into the nursery, past the rather astounded airbending master, pulling Korra behind him. "You're not gonna believe it," he bragged.
And Korra didn't believe it.
Mako was sitting in a rocking chair, swaying back and forth to the gentle melody of a music box that was playing on the windowsill. His angular features, often so cross and somber, were softened as he regarded the cooing saffron bundle in his arms.
"Daddy!" Jinora and Ikki cried, rising up from their spots on the rug, bottles of ink and brushes being swept aside as they abandoned their artwork to hug their father. They clutched at his robes, held onto his legs, laughing and talking over one another, trying to tell him the story of how Mako came to be holding a baby. Shocked, Tenzin just patted his daughters' heads, keeping his eyes trained on Mako.
"It happened four days ago," Bolin explained. "Meelo and Jinora came for Mako and me at the arena when Pema went into labor. We brought a doctor with us. He said the birth went very well. She screamed a lot, though." At the memory, Bolin shuddered and Mako shot his brother a stern glance, reminding the younger sibling to keep any distressing memories about Pema's labor to himself.
"It's a boy," Mako said as he stood from the rocking chair to present Tenzin with his fourth child, bouncing slightly to keep the infant content. His steps were calculated, light, like when he shadowboxed, and he held the baby tenderly, as if his arms were made for that singular purpose. Korra couldn't remember ever seeking her friend so peaceful.
"Mama named him Hakoda." Ikki informed proudly.
"You were supposed to let Mom tell him," Jinora mumbled, rolling her eyes at her sister's excitable chattering.
Gently, Tenzin took his son from Mako, adjusting the baby in his arms. He swept his blue gaze over the boy, taking particular note of the baby's hands and feet, seeking any sign of illness and finding none.
"He's really soft," Ikki whispered, her voice filled with awe.
"You were soft, too, when you were this small," Tenzin answered. A few tears were slipping out of the corners of his eyes as he bent forward to kiss the baby on the brow. "Where's Pema?"
Mako walked towards a door on the far side of the nursery and opened it. Peering into the adjoining room, Tenzin saw his wife propped up on their bed, warm blankets tucked around her, a salt spattered bay breeze wafting in the window and teasing the loose tendrils of her hair, and several bouquets of wildflowers on the table beside the bed. Meelo was curled up beside her, snoring like a baby armadillo-bear and kicking out with his left leg every now and then.
He entered the room quietly, taking in the healthy glow of Pema's face and deciding that she was recovering very well. Though he moved lightly, when he sat beside her on the bed, the shift woke the woman from her nap. She smiled adoringly at her husband, her brown eyes twinkling with pride to see him holding their new son.
"I missed you," Tenzin said, leaning forward to kiss her.
Korra, Bolin, Mako, Jinora and Ikki were standing in the doorway, watching the scene silently, though Ikki did make a choking gag when her parents kissed.
"You're well?" Tenzin asked.
"Yes. The boys have been taking very good care of me," Pema praised, her eyes falling on the baby in her husband's arms. "I named him Hakoda, after your grandfather," she whispered, mindful of the sleeping Meelo.
"I know. Ikki told me."
"Is that alright?"
Tenzin couldn't speak as more tears fell down his cheeks. Reaching for him, Pema took his face in her hands and wiped the tears away, but more came. She offered her husband a sympathetic smile, wanting to be strong when he couldn't
"You're mother?"
Tenzin didn't need to tell her, his loss was completely exposed in his eyes. Mindful of the baby, Tenzin leaned his head against Pema's shoulder, buried his face against her neck, and sobbed. Pema held her husband close and let him mourn.
Not understanding what was happening, Ikki tentatively wandered into the room and pulled herself onto the bed, sitting at her mother's feet. Jinora, however, comprehended what must have happened while her father was in the South Pole. She began to hiccough as she fought her own tears, twisting her fingers in her tunic and biting her lower lip.
"Hey," Bolin whispered, crouching down so he was eye-level with the girl. He put a large hand on her head, smiling sympathetically as she cried quietly. It only took a few moments before Jinora threw herself against the earthbender, her arms wrapping securely around his neck as she planted her face against his chest. Bolin hugged Jinora, rocking back and forth, whispering promises of walks in the park and swimming and visits to the central library over the coming days, little things that would make her happy.
Mako watched Korra as she watched the others. His golden eyes narrowed as he observed the complete numbness in his friend's expression. The fire in her was extinguished, replaced by cold marble, a stone that didn't feel anything. Korra often spoke with great respect and fondness of her waterbending master. Surely she must be suffering, too. Worried, he reached for her, touching her shoulder as he had many times before.
"It's OK to be sad," he told her. He squeezed her shoulder, feeling her tense, watching as the tiniest spark of emotion came to the surface. But Korra, obstinate as always, quashed it. She shrugged Mako's hand off her body and turned away from the bedroom, marching out of the nursery, fighting every tear that begged to be freed.
It was overcast when Korra returned to Air Temple Island. The waters of Yue Bay were choppy and there was a strong gale sweeping along the island, perfect conditions to practice airbending.
It had been three days since Korra and Tenzin had returned from the South Pole. After marching out of the nursery that day, Korra had decided to stay with Mako and Bolin for a while rather than return to her dorm on the island. During those three days she had thrown herself into training, practicing just before dawn and continuing until long after dusk, her body so sore she slept dreamlessly, only to rise in the morning and start all over again. Her focus was intense, even intimidating, and Bolin had joked that she was starting to get worse than Mako. Korra's response to the wisecrack was to freeze Bolin to outside of the arena.
Naked.
During the lunch rush.
She was pushing herself too hard, though, and it wasn't until the team's coach, Toza, told her he wouldn't let her compete in the next match until she walked off whatever was eating at her that Korra decided it was time to return to Tenzin and his family. She knew Tenzin would lecture her on her behavior, harp on her to let herself grieve Master Katara's death and then move on. But Korra couldn't find the strength to mourn. She couldn't find anything. There was an emptiness inside of her, an ache that couldn't be soothed. No amount of tears, or meditation, or even fighting, could fill up the hollowness that Master Katara's death had left in the young Avatar's heart. Korra knew this. She also knew she wouldn't be able to make her airbending master understand. Still, there was no point in avoiding the man, Better to face Tenzin bravely and let him lecture her until his face turned purple, and then return to numbing her pain as she tried to move forward.
"Hello?" Korra called, entering the cavernous main room.
"Hi, Korra!" Meelo exclaimed as he sped past her on an air scooter.
"Hi, Korra! Bye, Korra!" his sisters echoed together as they also raced by on air scooters, heading outside.
"Korra! I'm so glad to see you," Pema greeted, hugging the girl as she entered the hall. "Your timing is perfect. I'm going to get Tenzin."
"But –"
Pema left the teenager in a flurry, calling out to her husband. Taking a deep breath, Korra prepared herself for the lecture that was sure to come her way. She knew Tenzin must be upset with her for not contacting him for three days. He would stare her down, make her feel guilty for not adhering to her airbending exercises, and he would nag her for not confronting her feelings about Master Katara's death.
She didn't want to hear it.
"Korra," Tenzin greeted when he entered the room. Standing straight, Korra didn't dare lock eyes with her master. She bowed respectfully, hands clasped before her, and waited for the inevitable. "Pema and I need you to watch Hakoda for a while."
Well, that was not what she had been expecting.
"What?" Korra asked, startled out of her respectful bow.
"It'll only be for a half hour. We're just going to the shrine," Pema said as she put on her coat.
"The shrine?"
"At my father's statue," Tenzin said. "We're going to pray."
"And Hakoda's finally fallen asleep. He's been so fussy that he needs all the rest he can get. So please, would you mind watching him until we get back?" Pema asked.
Korra couldn't say no to Pema. The woman was so kind and nurturing, just like her own mother. Besides, it was only one short half hour. Korra could watch a baby for that long.
"Sure. No problem."
"Thank you."
Pema kissed Korra on the check before joining her three elder children outside.
Tenzin lingered behind a moment, studying Korra, scrutinizing her and chastising her without saying word. Korra took all of his silent criticism in stride. She knew she deserved it.
"You're three days late for your training," he finally said.
"I thought you might want to spend some time with your family," Korra offered with a shrug of her shoulders. "You know, with the new baby."
Tenzin clearly didn't buy her excuse, nearly rolling his eye.
"We won't be long," he told her, moving to leave.
"You got nothing to worry about," Korra assured. "Say a prayer for me while you're out there."
Tenzin turned sharply on the teenager, his blue eyes steely, near to bursting with frustration.
"You know the words. Say them yourself."
Korra accepted her master's harsh retort, hating that he was right. It wasn't his responsibility to lift her sorrow. She would have to find a way to do that on her own. Rebuked, Korra waited until she could no longer see the airbending family before deciding she had best make her way to the nursery to make sure Hakoda was still in his crib. Halfway down the hallway, however, a shattering cry broke the silence of the temple. Rushing to the baby's crib, Korra looked down at Hakoda, his little fist waving in the air while his toothless mouth was open wide to emit a sound that was absolutely grating to the teenager.
"Don't cry," Korra shushed awkwardly as she rocked the cradle, hoping the motion would soothe the baby. It didn't. Insistently, Hakoda kept crying. Korra made faces at the baby, funny noises, jiggled his rattle under his nose, but nothing quelled his cries.
"Hey, Hakoda, check this out!"
Pulling a bead out of her pocket, Korra stuck her tongue out in concentration as she placed the bead in the middle of one palm and held the other over it. Using her limited airbending skills, she managed to manipulate a small cyclone that trapped the bead and made it swish in a circle between her hands. Laughing at the trick, Korra turned to the baby only to find that he was completely not amused by her feat, still crying away. Defeated, Korra let the bead fall to the floor.
"I should have known. That trick never works."
Korra was at a loss. She didn't know how to take care of a crying baby, she wasn't maternal. Spirits, even Mako had more maternal instincts than she did. Still, the crying was grating, and in a desperate act, Korra picked up the baby and held him close to her body, bouncing up and down like she had seen Mako do before, hoping to shush the infant.
She nearly dropped Hakoda when he did stop fussing.
Stunned, Korra looked down at the baby. She was cradling him against her chest, his tender head dusted with downy dark hairs nestled perfectly just above her left breast. For the first time since learning about his existence, Korra took in Hakoda's features. Indeed, the baby had inherited a great deal from his Water Tribe blood. His skin was darker than his brother and sisters', and his cheekbones were more angular than round, if a bit pudgy. The little hair that was on his head was black, and his eyes…
Korra stopped breathing.
She knew those eyes. Blue as the ocean at dawn, round and large, almost like a cat-owl's, and framed by ebony kissed lashes. And the light that shone out of those blue eyes was sparkling and devastating, like being struck down by a bolt of lightning made out of sunshine.
'I've always loved the feel of your heartbeat.'
Hadn't Master Katara said that, looking up at her with those same trusting eyes?
A flash of memory, of many memories, both her own and not her own but always with those unmistakable blue eyes, reached down deep into the emptiness that had haunted Korra's spirit for so many days, and filled it with pure, devoted adoration.
'Some friendships are so strong, they can even transcend lifetimes,' a voice reverberated in Korra's mind. She did not question where the words came from, only acknowledged that they were true.
"Hello, Katara," she said, her heart overwhelmingly full, the tears she had refused to release for days trekking down her cheeks like cleansing caresses as she tucked the baby closer to her chest. "It's me. It's Aang. You found me."
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'Love is a form of energy and it swirls around us…it is still inside of your heart, and it is reborn as new love,' – Guru Pathik
I know, sad right? But there was a little uplifting hope at the end there. Honestly, I don't want this scenerio to play out in the series, it would be such a downer. However, for that reason alone, I think some rendition of this idea might actually happen. Bryke are very good about keeping a solid foot in reality when it comes to this amazing fantasy world they've created.
On a final note, thank you to everyone who left a review to my first story, Introduction. I wasn't able to message some of you a personal thanks, so I want you to know that your words and encouragement were appreciated.
If you'd like, please take the time to leave a review. No flames, please and thank you!