I. Love. Avatar. No lie.
Title: Nostalgic
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Nothing really. Implied slight Kataang, implied Zutara.
Warning: None, unless character death bothers you
Spoilers: Set post final battle. No real spoilers.
Summary: Aang had dreamt death before, but never did he imagine it felt so...warm.
So this is death, huh? It's not so bad.
I'll admit that I've imagined my own death before. On a few occasions, I've even dreamt it so real I felt as if I wouldn't wake up. I'd always wake with a jerk from those dreams; sweat rolling down my face, my throat with that familiar ache in it that gives away that I've been screaming my head off. Always someone would be there, asking if I was okay and offering a cool rag or some fresh water.
I'd always shake them off, politely of course, and make an excuse to be by myself for a while.
This isn't like that. Not like those pain filled dreams or those silly—because that's what they really are—ideas I once had of my death. This is different.
It's almost…nostalgic.
Technically, I have died before. Hundreds of times. I can't remember them though. Yet, something tells me, it's been like this before.
"Aang, hold on," I hear Sokka whisper. His voice is choked, breathy like he'd taken a hit to the throat or chest. He probably did, I wasn't watching. "Hold on Aang, Katara's on her way." I hear him whisper again.
I don't think he means it, the whispering. But…he really should speak up a little; I can't hear him that well. I try to tell him but blood blocks out my words and I go into a coughing fit. It's a little painful, but I feel numb to everything at the moment.
"Sokka, you need to lie down." Toph's voice this time. She sounds unusually soft. I force open an eye to see the blurry hand of my earth bending sensei rub Sokka's arm in a comforting manner. My eye drifts again and I smile. At least they won't be alone.
"I'm fine," he whispers again. "He's the one we should worry about."
I can feel footsteps through the earth. (Toph's teaching was thorough.) A soft thump, with the heel barely touching the ground. It's so unlike sensei's steady steps, and only slightly different than Sokka's proud, half-grounded ones. Peace flows through my head as I smile at Katara's soft, swift heartbeat-thumps echoing across the room.
There's a sharp pain in my chest when I realize I'll be leaving her behind. I wonder how she'll make it. I've seen Zuko look at her in that way a couple times, so I know she won't be alone. Maybe I'll halt the whole reincarnation bit a few days so I can beat it into that prince the importance of taking care of her. And that she likes apples. Yeah, he'll need to know that, too.
"Aang!" Her voice. I know it's screaming—for my sake, although the thought of that just hurts—and I feel a little ashamed that it sounds so faint and far away. Shouldn't I suffer the screams of my comrades? My dearest friends? It's the least I can do, leaving them like this. I can't make my ears work, and it's a little depressing.
In the dreams where I died—painfully and brutally, not quite as half-peaceful like this—with her near, I would always open my eyes to see her one last time. Tears would overflow and leave dirty trails down her, usually ash covered, face. I'd tell her I love her and that I'm sorry. It'd all be so tragic, yet so romantic that I knew if I ever did die with her here, I'd make sure to act it out.
I don't.
The last time I saw Katara she was smiling. She was happy despite it all. It's for this reason I keep my eyes closed. I keep her smiling face in my mind as I hear her voice so faint again. She may hate me for not saying goodbye, but it's not like it's forever. I'll see her again. After all, the avatar will always need a water bending teacher.
So this is death, isn't it?
This is dying.
Surrounded by everyone who's cared for me for who I really was, not just the title.
Teachers, friends, family.
Love.
It really is a good way to go. It almost feels like going home.
It's kinda funny, to be honest. I never thought death would be so warm, or have such soft lips.