A/N: I've decided to try a new writing style. This probably won't be too good, since I just thought of it in the shower five minutes ago, but I'll give it my best shot.
No Hesitation
There is too much blood. Blood is everywhere. All over her stomach, on her legs, and all over the baby. Smothering it. It is dead. She is not.
Blind with pain and grief and fury and blazing indignation, he shoots fire everywhere. It consumes the bodies of the doctors and nurses, ending their lives in a torturous way. He does not care.
If he had looked anywhere but at her dulling eyes, he would have seen the people being eaten by the flames.
If he had focused his ears on anyone but his wife's weakening gasps, he would have heard the agonizing screams and sobs. He might have pitied them. But he did not. He had not heard them.
If he had taken a deep breath, not the shallow, panic filled ones he was taken now, he would have tasted the smoke. But he would not have coughed. He was a firebender. Used to the smoke. In this moment, however, he wanted nothing more than to be a waterbender so he could heal her. Stop the inevitable. Rewind time. Anything. He would do anything to keep them together.
If he had grasped at anyone but at her hand, twitching in his, he would have felt charred flesh, dead as a burnt forest. But it would not grow again, and neither would his wife.
She was dead. He had no emotion left. He was like the burnt forest, every movement taking twice the effort. They were not together.
And so it was with no hesitation that he shoved a handful of fire towards himself, and let himself be consumed by the flames that lead to death. To happiness.
They would be together soon.