A/N: Again conceived through PMs with Liledhe. I'd tell you to get out of my head- but your being there is working wonders for these drabbles!
Leaving
The middle-aged man stood just outside his tent as the sun rose over the frozen tundra, watching as his crew loaded the last of their ships, hating himself for what he was about to do. But it was necessary. The world beyond his home needed his help. And if he didn't stand up with his allies, who would?
He thought he heard movement within the tent; he glanced at the entrance, wondering if his children were there after all. They had run off soon after the decision had been made early that morning to answer the call for help from the Earth Kingdom armies. No one had seen them since. He didn't want to leave before seeing them; they were his life. His sole joy now.
It was for them that he was doing this. He hoped that one day they'd understand.
His mind turned from the activity on the ships to the face he hadn't seen in years: Kya. The woman who had brought some peace to his warrior's heart. The woman he had killed.
He wasn't the one who had actually done the deed of course- but it was his eagerness, his lack of care, that had caused it. Why else would the Fire Nation come to their little village? So soon after he'd been making enquiries into a waterbending teacher? It was no surprise that the Fire Nation had thought that his wife was the bender, especially if it had happened as he thought it did.
Katara, running to him with news of a man in their house.
Running back, calling for help- too little, too late.
Holding his wife's burnt and broken body to him, deaf to Katara's screams; Bato had later told him it was this that had brought the rest of the warriors running.
There was no way Kya would tell them that the waterbender they sought was her own daughter. Nor would she condemn anyone else to a life of imprisonment. So she took Katara's place.
And paid dearly for his mistake.
Hakoda looked up as someone approached him- he looked into Bato's familiar face, and took some comfort.
"We're ready, Hakoda." Silence; both men knew that though the ships were ready to depart, not all of their crew were.
"Just give them a few minutes, Bato. They know what time we're leaving. They'll be here before midday." Bato nodded, but Hakoda could tell that he wasn't as sure about this as he was.
Time crept past as the men watched the shadow of the tent- and their own- shrink over the snow, counting down to the time they were to leave if they were to have the best chance of getting past the Fire Nation ships that patrolled the waters further along the route they were to take. Hakoda noted that the days had gotten even longer as they moved towards Midnight Sun. He calculated how many days were left before that time, wondered why he had told the men that they would not be returning to the South Pole after helping this village. He'd burnt the tent he had shared with Kya, but the memories still haunted him. Was he really leaving to help the war effort, or to run away from his memories?
He didn't know. Not anymore.
The shadow of his tent disappeared. Bato said nothing. Hakoda sighed, knowing that once again, his duties as Chief came before those as a father.
He stalked off towards the ship and the waiting villagers, kind enough to leave him to his solitude before. They all knew he was waiting for his children; the eyes that met his were heavy with sorrow.
"I'm sorry, Hakoda," he turned towards the voice; Kana stood next to him. He smiled briefly at the old woman whose child he had murdered.
"No. I am." She took hold of his hand, squeezed. They were not going to have this argument again to worsen this already tragic day.
Hakoda turned to the assembled villagers, waiting as they said farewell- perhaps forever- to husbands, fathers, brothers. Sons. Men.
He watched Tullik embrace his youngest daughter, his pregnant wife. They stood together for a minute, then he turned away. His wife stood proud, watching her man as he left to defend his people. Another family the Fire Nation had separated.
He watched as Tikaani strode through the crowds, looking neither left nor right. He ignored his comrades, heading straight for the ship. No one to say farewell to. Not anymore. Another man the Fire Nation had shattered.
He watched Bato embrace his sister, Miki. Ruffle the hair of her newborn son. Beside him, he saw her husband, Yakone, almost break as he said goodbye to the family he had just started. Almost heard the whispered plea for vengeance his wife undoubtedly added to help him stand proud. Clearly saw the remembered ghost of a beloved father murdered in raids past. Another family the Fire Nation had brought grief to.
He watched Arrluk wait for the woman who would not come. For she still blamed him for the sons they had lost when they had gone out to war years before. He watched as the man finally gave up hope, walked slowly towards the ship. Another man the Fire Nation had broken.
He watched Siki broke down as her youngest child turned away and walked towards the ship. He never looked back. A boy forced to become a man long before his time.
Another family the Fire Nation had torn apart.
He would not stand back and do nothing as they did it again.
He gradually became aware of a disturbance to his far left; two figures running across the snow. Hope grew, filling his chest.
"Dad!"
His children flew through the crowd, almost mowing him down as they dove into his arms. He fell to his knees, Sokka in his left arm, Katara in his right. Sokka was so big now, proudly wearing the war paint of a warrior. But he knew he wouldn't be allowed to go. Katara beside him, wearing the hairstyle of an adult, holding back her tears as he brushed his hand over her hair. Twelve and thirteen, and he was leaving them. His babies no longer, yet always so.
"You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?"
"Of course not, Katara. I was waiting for you."
"After you beat the Fire Nation, you're coming home, right?"
"I promise."
"Good."
Sokka was silent. Hakoda knew what he wanted to hear.
"Sokka, you're the man of the village now. It's up to you to look out for your family." The boy looked up at him, ecstatic at finally allowed to feel like a man. Hakoda wondered what kind of world they lived in now, that parents were forced to help their children grow up long before their time.
"Katara, look out for your brother. And keep up your training." She nodded. Her fingers went to her mother's amulet. Hakoda prayed she never found out what had caused Kya's death- that was one burden he'd be glad to spare his baby girl. He saw a tear roll down her face. "It's going to be alright, Katara. You'll see." The hand she had wrapped around his arm tightened, then relaxed.
Empty promises. Their staple food now.
But she surprised him. She looked up at him, refusing to wipe away the tears swimming in her blue eyes- so like her mother's.
"I know it will. The Avatar will come and beat the Fire Lord. Then you can come home again." He smiled at her hope- ever since she was little, she always imagined that the Avatar, that heroic figure of her childhood stories, would ride in and save the day. That belief had only strengthened after Kya's death. He hoped, if only for her sake, that this war didn't take everything from her before she accepted the fact that the Avatar was gone.
"Yes, baby. Then I'll come home." He stood and watched his children, then looked around at the village he was about to leave. He had said his farewells to them already- looking at the faces around them, he saw that many were about to break. He would not prolong their pain. Instead, with a final salute, he walked away.
Felt Bato fall into step just behind him.
Watched the faces of his men move closer as he approached them.
Felt the rocking of the ship as he boarded.
Gave the orders to leave.
He must have done it right, for the boats began to move.
Looked back at the shore.
Saw the image that would be burned into his mind for years to come. His tiny village, nestled in the arctic tundra. His people standing in the open, looking out at the boats. Some had already given way to their grief; one could only be strong for so long.
Sokka in his war paint, standing tall and proud. Katara, still not giving in to her tears, but with one arm wrapped around her brother. Both of them looking out to sea, to the world that called their father away from them, to the war that had scarred them.
To the father who had no choice but to abandon them.