Asymptotic
A/N: Bryke owns these. I should note that I think of this as a bit of an AU because to me, they feel a little out of character. I'm also not sure where it's going to go from here, if it's going anywhere at all.
Summary: Sometimes you find yourself reaching for someone you cannot touch. Kataangst.
She was in tears, and he was at a loss as to why.
Certainly, she had to have known this was coming. She had grown up around women with young children, had helped deliver their babies from the tender age of ten—in the Antarctic wilderness, no less. She had certainly not been guarded from the realities of how childbirth was accomplished, or how life about in the first place. And yet here she was, apparently surprised at the diagnosis the healer had handed down, in spite of the fact that the telltale nausea and inexplicable weariness had appeared so soon after they reunited and persisted well past what might have been explained by the usual sort of ailment.
Surprised…and upset. And as much as the former mystified him, the latter was quickly spiraling what should have been a happy day into a disaster, and he was falling behind the power curve.
"We've been so reckless," she sobbed, leaning heavily on the bureau, arms wound so tightly around her chest that it looked as though it might be painful, as though a fantastic amount of effort was required to keep her ribs together. "I was so careful for so long, but you were gone for so many months that when you came back…"
His eyes narrowed, storm clouds gathering.
"You've been careful?" he demanded. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Her expression changed, a combative wrinkle of the eyebrows, gaze cast darkly to the floor. The tears continued, but the sobs did not.
"Katara. Look at me."
She refused for a beat, and then suddenly whipped her head around, her long braid snapping neatly over her shoulder. There was something fierce about her now, something bright that rose above her devastation.
"Think about it, Aang. My parents' war, my grandparents' war is over, sure, but look at where we are! Just because we're not trying to tear each other limb from limb anymore doesn't mean the world is a safe place."
He stared at her as though he had never seen her before. "It's a whole lot safer than it was, thank you very much. You've seen it yourself! You've built some of it! You of all people know how much progress we've made."
But she shook her head, her large blue eyes imploring him to see reason. "Where have you been these last few months? All over this nation, all over the world, trying to diffuse conflicts that almost led to armed intervention more than once, in populated areas where even the slightest misstep could snuff out hundreds of lives. Is this the kind of world you want to bring your children into? Do you want to be like my father, leaving them behind because the world will always need you more?"
He flinched; she had struck a nerve. In her brightness, in her fierceness, she was fragile—trying not to break by breaking him instead.
"I'm not your father," he reminded her, crossing the room in one smooth motion to put his hands warmly on her shoulders, which shook at his touch. He regretted his next words before he said them, but it needed to be considered. "And that's not the only factor here. I'm the last of my kind. Right now, I'm the end of the line, and the day you took my hand in marriage you agreed to shoulder that burden with me."
Instantly, her fear crumbled to anger. "I said no such thing," she growled through gritted teeth, ripping her body away from him, and it took a great deal of willpower not to let his hands burst into flame as the heat rose in his face. He fought to keep his voice low, his usually careful choice of words falling away under the pressure of the emotion building in his chest, and stepped forward to grasp her by the wrist as she went to turn away.
"You didn't have to say it. You chose me, and you knew exactly what that meant. You knew it wouldn't be easy, and you chose it just the same. What choice do we have but to bring our children into this world?"
She shook his hands off, new tears forming in her eyes. The bitterness that rolled from her tongue with the words was just enough of a shock to pin him to the floor as she swept from the room.
"Well, we certainly don't have a choice anymore."