ii. chill


That evening, he writes a letter to Katara, and while his pen scribbles, he starts to realise the impact of his absence –– or lack, thereof. It makes him consider his own worth. What is the point in the Avatar's existence when the world is at peace? It's a bizarre feeling, when one's purpose is simply to fight. But Aang has never really adjusted after the war.

Snow has blown into the room. He slams the window shut, shudders, and draws the curtains. Looks back at the letter, and decides to give up for now. Whatever excuses he might have, whatever stories he has to tell; they can wait. After all, he has no idea where to begin. He wonders if Katara knows about the miscarriage, or if she's been just as oblivious.

Aang sleeps restlessly.

Tosses and turns, and his dreams are empty.

Did they die as children? If Aang had never met Katara and Sokka, would they be the better for it? Once Lord Ozai was down, none of them were the same. So close during the war, they all dispersed and hurriedly went their separate ways. As if being near to each other was too much of a reminder. Their childhood is what hurts most.

It is good to be of service. The weather continues to be harsh, and Aang obediently follows orders. Helping civilians, old and young, seems the main priority at the moment. And he doesn't mind. Some of the other officers help as well, and it's fun. At times, Aang is even asked to display his Airbending techniques, to which he obliges.

The cold does not suit him.

He catches the chill effortlessly. Snotty-nosed, runny eyes, and coughing, he returns to headquarters with a heavier head than before. Aang is teased for this, and it's nice that the officers feel they have that liberty with him. He grins at their remarks, rubbing his eyes dry.

The paperwork isn't too difficult, but spending the rest of the day with his head down doesn't help. Every now and again, Aang has to grab an emergency tissue, lest he humiliate himself and disgust those around him. He almost misses the east; it's warm, hot sunshine, desert lands, a different place, a calmer place with less frenzy.

He is interrupted when an officer says Chief Beifong wishes to see him. Aang stands, and he is led not to her office, but one of the interrogation rooms. He hasn't been in one before so excitement swells up in him. To his surprise, there is somebody being interrogated. Aang watches him through the mirror, before absentmindedly turning to Toph.

'You wanted to see me?'

'I hear you've got the sniffles, Twinks.'

Aang blushes a bit. 'Maybe.'

She finds this very amusing. 'Should wrap up more.' Aang raises a brow at her reference to the previous night. 'Thought you might find this interesting. This loser has been causing problems –– theft, mainly –– and we managed to get him. Finally. You ever questioned a criminal before?'

'Uh, not that I recall.'

'Great! This'll be your first. Don't worry. We'll be right here. Unless you need somebody to hold your hand.'

'I have a hunch I can manage.'

Toph twitches a smile, and then gestures to the doorway to her right. 'Through there. My colleague will meet you, and he'll give you instructions on what to do. We want to find out who else has been involved.'

Makes sense. Aang nods and opens the door. Like Toph said, an officer meets him on the side. The criminal's name is called Akio, twenty-three years of age; estranged from his family for some time; affiliated with a group which still remain a mystery. Hence the interrogating.

Aang enters the interrogation room confidently. He's conscious of the fact that Toph can sense his every move, and she will note everything he says. When he approaches the table, Akio looks up, and Aang can't help but smile. He is young, and he has kind, blue eyes.

'Aren't you the Avatar?'

'That's right,' Aang sits opposite him. 'You're Akio. I just wanted to have a little chat.'

'Well, I've got nothing. Your friend tried that.'

'You mean the officer who just left? Actually, he didn't try at all. I've been given the pleasure to question you myself. Hey, I'll let you in on something.' Aang leans forward, and whispers, 'This is my first time doing this.'

Akio raises his brows. 'Seriously?'

'Mhmm.' Aang softens his expression, and actually takes sympathy. 'It must be tricky trying to make the right decisions. Especially when you're young. When I was a kid, I was very hurt about something––something which happened to me personally. Fortunately, I had loyal, good friends to ensure I didn't make any mistakes in my anger. I know you must be feeling lonely, that you just want to get on with life; but I want you to be reassured that I'm here for you. So, whatever you need to say, take your time.'

'Why would I tell you anything?'

Aang holds his gaze. 'That's up to you to decide. But I promise you, regardless, we'll keep you safe. Nobody can hurt you.'

For a while, Akio is silent. He watches Aang intensely, sizing him up, and Aang allows him to. There is only a six-year difference between them. Yet he feels so much older. He is much older. Compared to this boy, Aang is ancient, and his wisdom goes back centuries.

Perhaps that's why Akio decides to open up.

As soon as he starts talking, Aang listens and doesn't interrupt.

'My father came home some days––a lot of days––and he was drunk. It was a sort of gradual thing. I don't know if my mum thought it'd all blow over, but she stuck with him. Even when he started, y'know––' he inhales, '––knocking her about the place. I was only small then. So, my mum made sure I was out of the way before he got home. I was sixteen when my sister was born. And I'd try to distract my dad from her and my mum––sometimes I fought back. But things got worse when my sister died.'

'I'm sorry.'

'She was only a baby. Pneumonia. And I thought things were shit before that, but everything sort of spiralled afterwards.' Akio goes quiet, eyes distant. 'I walked out; didn't have anybody, so––' he shrugs. 'I stole things, sure; looked out for myself. That was before I met…' he trails off, looks at Aang briefly. Then his expression contorts, and he leans over, pressing his forehead to the table. 'He looked after me. Fuck it, I didn't have anywhere else to go.'

Aang comes over, rests his hands on Akio's shoulders. 'I'm sorry. I––'

'My mum went crazy. After she lost her.' Raising his head, the boy sighs heavily. Exhausted. 'Can't stop thinking about her; she was so small. Too small.' Aang squeezes his shoulder.

'Thank you. The more you tell us, the closer we are to understanding what happened to you; who you've become involved with.'

'Am I in trouble?' He cracks, tears spilling from his eyes.

On cue, the door opens, and an officer gestures Aang to leave. He glances at Akio, who looks at him desperately for help. 'No,' he says, 'You aren't. I'll make sure of that.'

Aang is not met with congratulations. In fact, when he leaves the room, and comes face-to-face with Toph, he can't read her expression. But her voice is cold, like ice; sharp on her tongue. 'Resume your work,' she says, and there's no invitation for argument.

Without a word, Aang walks past her, eyes on her face, trying to decipher anything. But she's unusually stoic, and he's thrown with a feeling of despair. Had he made a mistake? Say something wrong? What had he done in order for Toph to treat him so coolly?

He can't resume work. Toph must be mad to think he can, what with everything that has happened. By the end of the day, he's sore and tired and possibly dehydrated from the cold. However, he doesn't intend to clock out of work until he's checked if everything is okay.

Around evening, he boldly approaches her office door, and enters.

Only to have interrupted a meeting.

Two officers look at Aang in surprise, whereas Toph just looks irritated. 'Sorry,' Aang says, 'I just need to have a quick word with––'

'It's fine,' Toph says, standing. 'These two were leaving.'

Both officers escape the room abruptly, giving Aang a puzzled expression. Toph folds her arms, and waits for Aang to speak, which makes him uneasy. It's as if she is punishing him with silence. Which gives him all the more reason to ask what is going on.

Aang closes the door. But doesn't step any closer.

'I wanted to ask about Akio.'

'Who?'

'The young man I questioned earlier.'

'What do you want to know?'

'You're letting him go, right?'

Toph laughs. It's short. Humourless. 'That's not how it's done. We'll be holding onto him for a while; he has yet to offer us any valuable information. You didn't do too bad of a job, though. Bit too much touchy-feely going on. That's where you were––mm, disappointing.'

'I never said I was an expert at this, Toph.'

He stops. Because this is beginning to sound tense; like an argument, and he really doesn't want an argument.

'Just––he seems to have had a rough time. With his sister, especially.'

Toph does an amazing job at covering her emotions. But she slips; briefly. For the slightest second. And all Aang can see is that. The slip. The second in which her eyes go wide, and agony rips her in two. Aang freezes. Because the image is gone as soon as it came.

How could he be so stupid?

Of course this hits a personal spot. Toph, too, has lost.

This is close to home. Too close to home, but nobody can ever know, and his heart breaks for her.

'I know.'

She turns her back on him then. Aang won't dare intrude. He lets her recover. Or, recover as best as she can. There is so much pride to protect. But it isn't easy to recover. Even if it's temporary. Aang swallows, breathes, takes a step towards her. Reconsiders, and presses his back to the door.

Now, he isn't sure whether to leave. Does she need space? Will she do something he would rather not witness? Aang realises that the years they have spent apart have developed them to the point of barely recognising each other. He watches, waits, breathes harshly.

And all he wants to do is cuddle her.

Wrap his arms around her body, and just cuddle her. For as long as she needs to be held. To hold her tightly, so tightly, pushed against his chest, for him to cling to her, and never let go. He wants to tell her––I know. It's okay, and I know, and I'm here for you.

Talk to me about the pain.

Let me soothe the wound.

'Is that all you wanted to ask?'

Aang hesitates. Then, 'Yes.'

'You can go home, if you like. I know you're sick.'

'I––' What about you? '––actually wanted to wait until you were finished.'

She faces him, recovered, but perhaps not. 'All right. I'm nearly done, anyway. You'll have to wait, though.' Toph can feel his relief, and she doesn't know if she's relieved as well.

By the time her shift is over, Aang is waiting by the door; expectant, happy to see her, a question in his eyes. She gives him a brief acknowledgement before they leave together, and while he expects nothing to be resolved this evening, he can't help but feel nervous.