A/N: There would be way, way more about this story.
But for now it's just a one-shot. An experiment. A testing of the waters.
It's just a little part of a big personal project that still has a long way to go before it's ready (*cough*to save anyone*cough*).
But this managed to come out in the meantime.
Yes, it's a modern AU (so no bending) and yes, it's Kataang (and it's rated for safety).
Oh, yeah, I don't own these characters, but you already know that. And the song at the end is by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.
Katara sat with the clicks and roars of the guns still ringing in her ears. The smell of blood, dust and fear still lingered, along with the shouts of her companions and enemies. The difference between them was blurry -as thin as a flash of either blue or red.
The darkness around her was the perfect canvas for each moment of that invasion gone wrong to replay before her eyes.
She saw the sadistic amber eyes of an heiress -a psychopath- with a flamethrower in her hand, bringing death with a smile on her face.
Guns kept firing, men kept falling and there was little, so little she could do.
He will come.
The horrified faces of Aang and Sokka replaced Azula's in the room shrouded with darkness. She saw Aang struggling to get to her before it was too late, she saw hands gripping at his clothes and keeping him away.
Katara sat, her head bent forward, badly cut locks of dark brown hair hanging limp around her face.
Her cheek stinged where the Fire heiress' nails had dug in, but it was barely an itch compared to the rest of her body. Her blouse was in shreds, the back of it burned along with her skin, her tights ripped up the side, stained with dull red where blood had dried hours ago.
There was nothing but darkness, pain and the cell where they kept her.
Katara didn't know what more they intended to do with her, but she knew it wouldn't be pretty.
He will come and get me out.
Katara found -somehow to her relief- that she couldn't cry. The rage of fire had dried her tears away. She knew without a doubt that her family would do whatever it took to save her.
The only problem was the meantime.
And Katara knew she had to be strong, but time had already lost its meaning and her cell was full of whispers.
Whispers that were so low she couldn't make out the words they were saying; only a rythmic hum that was somewhat comforting.
He will come. Hang in there, Katara.
She still wasn't sure what had gone wrong with her, but she had failed. All those years of training had served nothing: she had lost anyway.
Lost and captured; imprisoned where no one but her captives could find her ever again.
Or so they hoped.
Shouts, bangs and rattling of bars, once again. Doors shutting and gates opening... Only it was real this time.
And then light. A black silhouette against the whiteness of the world outside the cell.
Only it wasn't a young woman with an evil smile, this time.
A boy, instead, with clear grey eyes the color of worry and relief.
He came.
Katara's lonely room was full of voices, now -and they were real. There was Aang and his hands cool and soothing on her skin. His voice soft as he called her name and lifted her up. There was Sokka and his concerned rumbling and tears of relief. There was Toph and her triumphant smile, as she prompted them to hurry up and get out.
They all came.
The whispers had stopped when she'd seen him, and Katara had realized just then where they'd come from.
It was her. Murmuring his name, over and over.
Aang's lips pressed on her forehead, his hands removing the now-short hair off the stinging side of her face.
Katara managed a small, tired smile.
She knew he would come for her.
Hey little train! Wait for me!
I was held in chains but now I'm free
I'm hanging in there, don't you see?
In this process of elimination