My Guardian Angel
A Zutara Fanfiction
Kiwi Curry
A:N/ Wow. I know what you all are thinking. "OMGZZ, SHE ACTUALLY DID A RE-WRITE OF THIS." It's a miracle, I know, please hold your applause. Anyway… as I've been skimming through my past chapters (they suck XD) I've come to the conclusion that Katara shall not be deathly of afraid of any physical contact or any person for that matter. It kind of creeped me out. O.o
Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: the Last Airbender or else Nick'd be cranking those babies out once every other day.
Grew up in a small town
And when the rain would fall down
I'd just stare out my window
Dreaming of what could be
And if I'd end up happy
I would pray...
Breakaway – Kelly Clarkson
-x-
SUMMER
As soon as I opened my eyes I knew something was wrong. The light streaming through a crack in the curtain was a dead giveaway.
Hopping out of my cozy and unfamiliar bed, I stumbled awkwardly across the floor, confused at the sight of my bath robe hanging innocently on a hook. Snatching it I clutched it tightly to my body and pulled away the drape, sheltering my eyes from the unexpected light that greeted me.
Staring out the window with my mouth open I came to three assumptions:
1. This was not Maine.
2. This was not my house.
3. Oh my God, Sokka must have smuggled me here and knocked out whoever lived in this house.
The third one didn't make much sense, but hey, at 7 o'clock in the morning it was the best I could come up with. I decided to explore the house before whoever lived here came and found some random teenager moping around in their basement.
There was a large, dark brown dresser just begging to be opened; you could almost hear the little Cabinet Angels singing, "Open me, Katara! Open me!" from inside. Curious, I pulled out a drawer and was
surprised to find all my clothes lying in neat stacks. Chewing my bottom lip I sorted through them, waiting to find a bomb or something under some socks.
Great, I thought dryly, I'm becoming just as paranoid as Sokka.
Thinking of which, where was my clueless older brother? Shaking my head I grabbed a pair of crisp jeans and light blue T-Shirt before hurrying off to find a bathroom. I didn't have to walk very far; right outside the bedroom was a sticky note (pink) with my brothers' messy scrawl on it. Taking it down I read the nearly illegible words out loud.
"Hey Kat! New place in Florida! Woo hoo! Smiley face."
I blinked.
Huh. So Sokka really didn't knock anyone out. Darn.
I turned my attention back to the task hand and found another sticky (green) with a large, bulky red arrow pointing to a door to the left of me. I knocked politely on the ebony wood before cracking it open.
I was pleased to find a working faucet, with the promise of cool tap water and a clear head. The floor was bare, covered with bland tiles; they felt good on my sore feet.
Stepping in front of a cracked mirror hanging above the sink, I shied away from the sight. To be honest, I looked half-dead. My normal mocha colored skin was unusually pale, and my eyes had small black rings underneath them. I appeared to have fallen asleep with my hair in a pony-tail; strings of loose hair hung greasily from ever possible angle. My clothes really weren't much better; jeans with smudges on the knees and a crumpled white blouse.
I hastily flipped on the faucet, eager to watch all my uneasiness flow down the drain. Water calmed me, always has, always will, so maybe I could remember how in the world I had ended up in Florida.
Pooling the blissfully chilly water into my clammy hands, I splashed my face thoroughly before drying off with the sleeve of my shirt. Immediately I felt better, sliding to the floor to think. Suddenly the memories came flooding back so quickly I had to rest my forehead on the cool wall.
Of course, I thought to myself, tracing the markings of the plaster. Yesterday was out anniversary. How could I have forgotten?
It was really ours, but it was something we did every year. June 16th was the day my mother had died. We don't know how it had happened, (Dad still wouldn't tell us) just that two young police officers had come to our house late at night to tell us. I was only 5 at the time, Sokka 6; the mean had asked to talk to Dad alone, to explain what had happened and to go over some files.
I didn't understand why Dad and Sokka were crying. I remember asking Sokka were Mom was after he had lead me to the couch and helped me up. He didn't answer, just kept crying. The next morning I had woken up in my own bed with Hakoda sitting at the foot of it. He picked me up and began to cradle me, rocking me back and forth. When I asked him what was wrong, he petted me hair and told me Kanya wasn't coming back.
Ever since that day we've always celebrated the memory of Mom.
Another reminiscence hit me full in the face, one with Dad handing me a black jewelry case. "It was your mothers," he had said yesterday. "She would have wanted you to have it."
I clamored unsteadily to my feet, starting at the mirror, my eyes glued to the bulge in the left breast pocket. Shakily I fished out a blue band of cloth, a pendant attached to the fabric with a small metal ring. It had beautiful ocean waves chiseled onto the smooth surface. This had been on Kanya's prized possessions; Dad had made it himself when they were dating.
With a quivering hand I rose it to my neck, knocking off a good five minutes until I finally had it clasped. Breathing deeply I gazed at my reflection before smiling sadly.
I looked just like Mom.
-x-
After I had stripped of my filthy old clothes and dressed into my fresh outfit, I made a quick stop at the room I had first come out of and dropped off my garments before walking through another doorway that led to a kitchen. The room was stripped of any furniture, so I made myself comfortable on the floor. The carpet had a stain or two here and there and it smelled old, but other than that I couldn't complain.
I was pulling at a loose thread when Sokka came barging in carrying a large cardboard box. "Hey, Sokka, need some help?" I offered, standing up quickly.
Instead of answering he just lugged the crate to a counter and dramatically groaned, wiping sweat from his brow. Turning around he smiled and opened his arms wide. "Hey there, lil' sis! Isn't this place great? It was mom and dads first house."
I raised my eyebrow at that. "Really?"
"Yeah," Sokka said. "No one's lived here since they moved out to Maine." Then his expression turned to one of concern and he asked hurriedly, "Are you okay? You conked out after the airplane ride."
I touched the bags under my eyes. "Airplane ride?" I asked incredulously.
Sokka scratched his head. "Don't you remember? After we got through with the – the anniversary Dad got us to get all our things ready for the move."
I stared.
"You know… the move we've been planning for the past few months?" he prodded further.
Still didn't ring a bell.
"For Yue's sake, Katara, it's all you've been talking about!"
Something suddenly clicked.
"Oh, that move," I said, momentarily flushing for being so forgetful. "But… I don't remember anything after Mom's anniversary."
Sokka sighed. "Look, you were probably just really tired. You were half-asleep on the plane and Dad had to carry you here once we got out of the taxi. The truck with all our stuff just got here a while ago, but Dad wanted to get your room finished first."
"That makes sense," I mumbled. "But what about that bed? I've never seen it before."
"It's been here since they moved out. I'm surprised you didn't wake up sneezing with all that dust collected on it."
I was about to punch him in the arm when I heard a heavy thump come from upstairs (we have an upstairs?). Sokka grinned sheepishly before jogging off in the direction of the noise. Not wanting to be caught alone again, I followed.
After reaching the top of the 14 stairs, (alright, I counted a few steps. So what?) I couldn't figure out which room my brother had run in to. I wasn't about to start poking my head into random rooms of my parents' old house, so I tapped my foot impatiently, waiting for a clue.
"Ouch! Be careful Dad!"
I smirked in victory. According to my calculations Sokka was in the room at the far end of the corridor. Walking swiftly down the hallway, I leaned casually against the door frame, quirking an eyebrow.
Dad was sprawled out on a low beam below the ceiling, trying desperately to unscrew a broken chandelier from the small metal ring it was hooked to. Sokka had one foot off the wooden ladder we had gotten in Maine, arms outstretched to hand Hakoda a screwdriver.
I whistled softly, causing Dad to almost loose his balance. He swayed uneasily as a I ran under the towering figure, ready to help him down. "Hey sweetie," he almost sang, choosing to wrap his arms around the beam instead of fall into the arms of his not-so-strong 15 year old daughter. "I see you're up."
I nodded, my eyes still glued to him. "It's a really nice house," I said conversationally. "Sokka said it belonged to you. Was it true?"
"He-hey!" Sokka sputtered, swinging his other leg so his foot was firmly planted on the ladders' rung. "It's not like I lie or anything!"
I shrugged. "I could argue with you there, big brother."
Hakoda laughed before carefully easing himself down. Once he was back to the safety of the floor, he smiled and wiped his hands on his trousers before turning back to me. "Want to help bring some boxes up? I don't think your brother can handle much more," he joked.
"Sure."
As we were leaving, ("What, no 'Thank you so much for your help, son'?") Dad said quietly, "Your necklace is beautiful, by the way."
-x-
"Whew!"
After I had helped Dad carrying in our faded old leather couch, I sat down, sinking comfortably into the pillows. For the past few hours I had helped bring in the heavy and more expensive stuff with Sokka and Hakoda, switching evenly between the two. Now the house was almost full; the truck still had a thing or two tucked into its dark corners.
Dad and Sokka came in, our white fridge scraping on the already broken tile. Normally I would have hit both on the backside of their heads, but seeing as we were going to get it replaced, I saw no point in doing so.
I waited for the pair to put down the fridge before stepping into the kitchen. "Hey Dad? Mind if I look around the house?" I asked.
"Uh-huh, sure thing Kat," he said absentmindedly.
I grinned. "Cool. Thanks."
As I walked through the house I tried not to find a piece of stale bread and leave crumbs in every room I'd been in. This place was huge! I'd already counted three bedrooms, three bathrooms, and quite a few closets. After I climbed back upstairs, I found a room I hadn't noticed before. When I pushed on the wood, it opened without a sound.
Peering into the room I gasped. The room was spotless and horribly empty, as if waiting for someone – anyone to relieve its loneliness. As I walked slowly on the polished floor, trailing my fingers over the crests embedded into the wall, I could tell I had found the perfect place to begin my paintings once again.
There were two panes of glass, stretching from the floor to the ceiling, overlooking the backyard I had never seen before. My feet didn't seem to touch anything as I glided to the window. Gazing out at the scene below me, I felt… better. Like I didn't know what to expect when I moved from my frosty homeland to the foreign lands. From Omashu, tucked away in the coolness of Maine, to Ba Sing Se, a large and powerful city nestled in Florida.
A large oak tree dominated most of the yard. With my nose pressed against the glass I could vaguely make out the line of a crude swing in the fading light. It was attached to the top-most branch, swaying lightly in the gentle summer breeze.
I didn't need to ask to know that my father had made that swing.
As Dad's voice floated up the stairs, calling me down, I took one last look at the room, breathing deeply. Yes, I thought as I slipped out the door, this will definately work.
-x-
A:N/ So… do I win anything? XD
I've been working on this for the past few weeks, and I'm much happier with the outcome. Don't worry, Katara'll start school in the next chapter. Or… just go shopping for new school supplies. Either one could work. I'll be going to Arizona in two days, so I leave you with the first chapter of a hopefully better version of My Guardian Angel.
OI, I really, REALLY hate apostrophes. I fail at grammer. D: