Disclaimer: Why would I, a lowly fan, possibly even entertain the idea that these characters and world are mine? *grovels*
A/N: This is pretty much the only Kataang piece I've ever written, probably because it's about the scene from their relationship that touched me the most. And because I've shivered many times trying to imagine what it must be like to be in the Avatar State.
Anchor
He felt the rage rise up in him, stronger than normal. By now, he was learning to recognize the difference between his own anger and the torrent of fury that broke all boundaries that he hopelessly tried to erect.
He knew when it was happening. As it was happening now.
The terrified cries of the sandbenders echoed in his ears, as if from far away. He could hear them pleading, apologizing. But they were not sorry…they were just afraid. There was no real remorse in the pleading.
How could they ever have taken Appa from him? How could they take his oldest friend and treat him as if he were an object, to be sold to the highest bidder?
Memories flashed through his rapidly clouding brain; Appa cocking his head to look up at him with innocent brown eyes, the moist tongue lifting the apple gently from his palm. The slow, undulating power of the bison beneath him as he flew, the low moans that actually had meaning to them when you paid enough attention. The loyalty. The friendship. The one single presence that had been with him since before he had worn his airbending master's tattoos. The one single creature who was his friend and guardian and guide. For life. Gone.
He hardly noticed when his feet left the ground. The fearful yells of the sandbenders were receding behind the whirling roar that filled his ears and pounded in his head. They were not sorry.
He'd show them sorry.
A thousand lives, a thousand lifetimes of power boiled up from somewhere deep inside him, filling every inch of his skin until it felt like he could hold no more. His vision misted over, blazing with light. Against the light, images were flashing almost too fast to see, images of the past and present. And images of Appa, there to fuel his fury until there was no other outlet for him to send it except at the sandbenders. He did not stop to consider who else could be hurt, or what the consequences might be. He could not rationalize that far.
Calm was a word he no longer understood.
He sucked in a breath, ready to unleash it all, every bit of strength and sound and fury in one devastating attack.
Touch.
Someone was touching him.
His first reaction was more anger. But then the trickle of surprise forced its way through. Someone was daring to touch him now? Like this?
The touch became a grip. And then a pull.
Why listen? Why stop? Appa was gone. Gone. He wasn't stopping now, not even for—
Katara.
He felt his eyes widen; his white eyes blinded with light and rage. Her name pierced straight through him like a shock of water, like a breath of air. And somehow, with that realization came awareness.
What am I doing?
The pull was gentle, but firm. Tender, but strong. Pulling him down, pulling him back. Reeling him away from the edge of a cliff, bringing him back to the surface when he was drowning.
An anchor. Holding him tight; to reality, to emotion, to friendship. To hope.
He let himself go, he let the fury go. He sank back down, feeling a kind of terrible, immense relief when the power left him.
She held him when the overwhelming rage gave way to grief. When the limitless power of the Avatar found its outlet in simple tears, rather than destruction.
She was the only one who would have faced him in the throes of his fury. The only one who would have risked it all to be his anchor when he needed one most. The only one who would hold him and understand without speaking that what he needed most now was her arms around him.
He had known that face hovering over him as he woke from the iceberg was special.