Closer
...
You shimmy shook my boat leaving me stranded all in love on my own.
Do you think of me? Where am I now? Baby where do I sleep?
Feel so good but I'm old, 2000 years of chasing taking its toll
and it's coming closer.
...
They realise that they were much too young far too late.
They were too young to get married. Too inexperienced of the world, of life, of each other.
They were far too young to have a child – another life to protect, to nature, to bring happiness to when they could barely do those three things for themselves or each other.
He is seventeen when they wed and barely eighteen when their son is born. He doesn't know how to be a man when he is only a hair's breadth away from childhood himself. He is unsure of how to be a good husband and father when Bumi cries or when Katara asks for his help. Aang realises all of this with a horrible sense of dread and with a painful contraction of his heart. He just doesn't know.
One long look into Katara's eyes and he knows she feels the same. It is not quite regret they feel, but shame – shame at the defeat of something which they both thought would be easy. But Aang is an Airbender before he is the Avatar and he shies away from his wife – from his best friend and confidant – and refuses to voice his pain. He feels surprise when her mouth opens and the words, the accusations and the threats do not come out, but instead her mouth closes and she continues on her way. Katara has always been honest with him and it pains him now that she uses silence to hide from him.
Guilt churns his stomach whenever he is summoned away from his wife and child. It twists his gut every time he realises that it is because he is glad to be away from the crying, from the sleepless nights and the long silences that make up his home life. Aang feels disgusted with himself every time he has to send a letter back saying he will be "just a few more days" because of the relief he sighs out at being able to stay away.
The tension is thick whenever he returns to their home on Air Temple Island. He loves Katara and he loves Bumi but a small part of his heart wonders if it's enough.
...
She is twenty-two when she quietly whispers through the darkness of their bedroom that she can't do this anymore.
"I love you more than anything," She whispers, the pillow becoming wet beneath her cheek and her hand shaking as she rests it over his heartbeat. "But we can't do this right now."
She feels the breath he inhales and then shudders out as a sob. His voice is weak when he replies. "I'm sorry I dragged this out for so long. I'm sorry I couldn't bring myself to be strong for you and say it first."
The lie in silence, sorrow buried deep into their very souls. Katara cannot remember the last time they had made love and desperately wants to now – she is unsure if it is as a parting gift or a last ditch effort to try and save something – but she cannot bring herself to roll into the space his body would make for her. She is scared of the possibility of conception, scared that she will have to stay with him, scared that she will not want to leave.
The first pink shades of sunrise light the room mere hours later and she is aware neither of them have slept a wink. Aang rises first and leaves the room without so much as a backward glance. She hears the door to Bumi's room open and the gentle murmur of Aang's voice as he soothes the child. It is an hour before she rolls from their bed, she looks over her shoulder at it while she bathes and dresses for the day, wondering if last night will have been the last time she ever lay in it.
"I've asked the Acolytes to go off the Island for the day," Aang says when she enters the kitchen. He is standing at the window facing Yue Bay, Bumi in his arm as he feeds him chunks of fruit and the long line of his back rigid. "We have a lot to talk about, huh sweetie?"
She smiles weakly because she knows even after they somehow sort all of this that they will still be them and they will still love each other.
...
They are twenty-three and twenty-five and have somehow made it all work. It is painful but it is a trial that they must endure.
The Island is still both of their homes and for those out with their closest friends and family it is not apparent that they have split. The decision to keep it all quite had been hard but had been the best thing to do – they had Bumi to think about. The call for Aang to take a new wife would be great and this would easily damage the small boy. It would have been hard for Aang to agree to such demands when he still had such strong feelings for Katara and she for him. They attend parent-teacher meetings and school events together and have an easy camaraderie at social events in the City and wider regions.
However, besides from these occasions they do not spend much time together. Their lives are scheduled carefully, with Aang in the City while Katara is at home and vice versa when she travels to deal with her own affairs regarding training and teaching. Bumi is disappointed that they rarely get to spend much time together as a family and they are not sure how much the young boy actually realises is going on.
It is hard and it is painful, though. Longing glances happen far too often and it is difficult to remember why they had agreed to split when Bumi would come bounding into a room, lively and excited and demand that they both listen to his newest song or show them a fantastically imaginative drawing. He is such a handsome little boy and the perfect mix of them both that he wis sometimes a heartbreaking reminder about the life they were meant to have together.
Their families and friends find it difficult to understand. Some think they are too perfect to not be together. Others are confused about their living arrangements. Sokka refused to speak to either of them, hurt that he hadn't be able to get through to them and help.
But all of the strife doesn't matter. Their son is happy and that is what matters.
...
It has been five years since their agreement to split when they make love again.
It has been coming. Electricity sparks between them whenever their eyes meet when they pass in the kitchen; he watches with a furrowed brow when she talks with other men at galas in the City; her eyes linger on his back when he stands across a room.
He arrives back on the Island early from a trip and she is lying on a sofa in the living area in a scandalously short nightgown with a book clutched in her hands. Katara sits up, a raspberry coloured flush spreading over her cheeks. He glances at her before looking away, his hand coming up to rub his chin awkwardly. There is a tense moment where they stare at each other and then all of a sudden...
He is pressing her into the bed they used to share and she is pulling at his robes, the buttons firing off to clatter along the floor. Aang is broader than she remembers, the muscles of his chest more clearly defined and the once sparse hair there coarse against the palm of her hand.
Katara is not the teenage girl he married anymore and he can't help but groan out her name into the crook of her neck as his hand ghosts over a plump breast and over the defined curve of her waist. She is a woman and he is a man and they aren't stupid kids anymore and they are still just so in love with each other.
Each thrust into her body is punctuated with a benediction of her name. Katara's lips are a searing heat against his throat and her nails a sharp prick of pain on his shoulder. The sheets become twisted in Aang's fist by her shoulders, his nose is buried in her hair and he almost cries because it still smells like his favourite shampoo. He wants this; he wants to feel her body against his, he wants her lips on his own, he wants to be in love with her.
He wants this.
He wants to be with her.
"Aang," Her voice is soft, pleading and so close to his ear. "Oh, Aang. Please."
"What?" He groans against her collar bone, his mouth trailing down her chest. His lips close around the erect peak of her nipple and he sucks for a moment before releasing it with a loud pop. "What do you want?"
"You. I only want you."
...
She is almost twenty-eight when she discovers she is pregnant again. They have been taking it slow – working at building their life together again as man and wife and as a family. Bumi is overjoyed that he gets to spend time with both his parents at once - they are still unsure over whether he truly realised what had happened.
The panic that sets in quickens her hearts and clouds her mind. She is unsure whether the intense nausea is morning sickness or dread. She is scared. Scared for the easy relationship they have managed to form again, scared for the stability they have finally been able to give to Bumi. She is frightened for the sense of normality that has finally returned between her friends and family.
This could destroy their marriage all over again.
She considers the alternatives – mostly she considers getting rid of the unborn child, getting rid of the problem before it even has time to fully bloom. But there is a voice in her head, a tiny little voice, and it cries out "what if it's an Airbender?".
The guilt wracks through her and she feels humiliated that she is contemplating the idea for a second.
Katara cries when she tells Aang, unable to stop the sob from bubbling up through her chest and throat. She did not hide her fears, letting them spill out in a rush of gasping breaths and shaking hands. He holds her close, rubbing his cheek against her own and managing to pull a watery laugh from her when his bread scratches against her soft skin.
"It'll be okay," He murmurs, his lips brushing against her temple. He swallows roughly. "I'm scared too."
...
But it is okay. They are older. Wiser.
They know who they are. They know each other. They have no expectations to be woefully destroyed. There is no humiliation when one of them finds it hard to cope with their baby girl. There is no guilt when Aang announces he needs a day away from the Island, no frustration when Katara hands over the crying girl to him so she can simply go and stand in the quiet solitude of the Bay. They realise that these were mistakes in their past and try their hardest to learn from them, rather than repeat them.
This time, their relationship only strengthens. There is no widening void between them. It is not easier this time, nurturing a life, but together they feel like they can accomplish anything.
...
Baby Kya grows and learns quickly – much quicker than Bumi did – and it is with a heavy heart that Katara realises that she misses having a baby. She misses the shared grins between herself and Aang whenever Kya would do something for the first time or make a particularly adorable facial expression.
She is thirty-two and her mind flashes back to a night ten years previous as they lie in bed when their lives had fallen apart. They are drowsily wrapped around each other in the darkening bedroom and Katara hopes that this will be a more pleasant memory to replace the one she had been thinking about.
"Sweetie?"
"Mmm," His mumbled reply is quite and gruff but she knows he is listening.
"I want to have another baby," Katara holds her breath. She feels the staccato tempo of his breathing as her words are digested. His heart pounds against the line of her back.
"Okay," Aang replies finally, kissing the sliver of skin that peaks out at the neckline of her nightgown before letting out a shaky breath. "Okay. I love you."
"I love you too."
...