Relief
She was breathless.
Fear crept up her spine. Anxiety trickled down her arms and came to rest in he fingertips. Her head spun. Her mind was in a drug-induced fog. "Drink this," they'd said. "It'll help with the pain." She should have known better. She knew that she needed to be in her right mind. But the pain—she had no idea that anything would ever hurt so bad. She cursed herself for being so weak.
She thought that after a year of marriage, they would have been able to move past these arguments. He just didn't understand. She hated bloodbending just as much as he did. And here he was, yet again, blaming her, hating her, because she'd used it once...years ago.
She tried to blink away the fuzziness; blinked so hard that her nose scrunched up. Everything kept going out of focus. And she was beyond frustrated.
Her husband didn't understand, but she knew someone who did: the man that she had shared so much pain with. They had grieved together. They'd held each other and cried together. They understood each other.
She tried to sit up, but a pair of strong hands pressed her shoulders back against the pillow and held her there. She fought against him with every bit of strength she had left in her, but his voice came gently to her ears. "Katara, you have to lay down."
But one night, while her husband and his wife were asleep, and they had come together to talk about things, they let themselves slip away.
An exasperated sigh burst from her lungs in protest. His face was blurred, but she knew that he must be giving her that look; the one he always gave her when he was disappointed in her. She hated that!
She kissed him first.
She heard a cry; a pitiful sound, really, coming from a new set of lungs. She yelped back, and the hands on her shoulders gave her a squeeze.
His hands pressed against her.
"We have a daughter!" He whispered, and kissed her forehead.
"We shouldn't do this," she whispered, exhilarated, not wanting to stop.
In a blur, she saw them carrying her baby away. Panic swept through her. "I have to see her!" She cried. "Let me see her!"
"I have to go," she told him as she put on her night dress.
They handed her the baby, tiny and pink and warm. She shook her head, again trying to clarify her vision. "Hi baby," she whispered, her heart fluttering.
She'll never forget the look in his eyes as she left him.
"Look at Mama," She sighed. The baby opened her eyes.
His eyes were gold.
Her eyes were gray. Katara breathed a sigh of relief.