Instability

Summary:Katara's life as a subordinate slave for Azula's Uranium factory takes a turn for the worst when a new recruit arrives, and shows her that disagreeing isn't necessarily disobeying. Kataang, Tokka, Multi Chaptered, AU, rated M.

Author's Note: Some age changes. Katara is still 17 (hopefully you all remember that from chapter one!) but Aang is only one year to six months younger.

I thank you all for your wonderful reviews and regret that I haven't been able to reply to most of them...however, I am certain that all my readers know that I value their input even more than I value my own.

Happy reading, you lovely brains, you!

-scorpiaux

She gave him a pair of latex gloves and showed him how to spread the powder on the conveyor belts into small, plastic tablets. She explained to him with an acute briefness that these were called Uranium Capsules. But, other than some encouraging nods or disgruntled frowns when appropriate, they said very little to each other.

Perhaps part of the silence was that Aang felt tired and filthy with himself for being here. Another part of him wondered what had happened to the four elders...what had happened to Gyatso, most importantly, and if the horrible guards in this factory were treating the elders with respect and gentleness.

"You're missing the tablets," Katara warned, nudging his side with her elbow as she worked. "Get your head into this, kid. If you mess up, they'll come after me. And that's the last thing I need right now."

"Right," he returned with a sincere genuineness, shaking his head. "Sorry."

He saw Katara watching him from the corner of her eyes.

There was a peacefulness in this girl that Aang couldn't help but notice—it was in her voice, in her movements, in her very mannerisms that he had only been exposed to for a number of hours. She worked with a strange aura of meditation about her...a certain air of calm that seemed quite familiar to Aang. It reminded him, in part, of Gyatso.

But he still did not know her well enough and, therefore, he didn't speak of his four elders, or the other worries that were burrowed in his heart.

"You just missed another one," she observed, frowning. "What's your name again?"

"Aang," he replied, clumsily stuffing powder into a small tablet. He found it strange that she could forget so easily—he had already committed her name and scent and relative breast size to memory. "Sorry," he repeated in reference to his sloppy fingers. "It's just that I'm not used to this, Katara."

Her back appeared to stiffen when he said her name.

He continued with somewhat of a foolish grin, "But, I'll get the hang of it eventually."

"Hopefully."

This seemed to settle into a mutual conversation piece between them. And Aang, who didn't fancy to think of what had happened to his four elders, continued with the intention of talking to this girl to forget the things that had already happened to him in this short length of time.

"How long have you been here, Katara?" he asked her, amused to find that she—again—paused a little when her name escaped his lips.

"Some five years," she replied, hesitating. This answer seemed to shock him, but he continued working anyway, keeping his eyes on the tablets before them. "It was hard at first," she added, "but, we got used to it."

"You and your brother, you mean."

"Yes."

"He seems like a nice type of person."

"...Yes. You will like him—at least, in the amount of time you will stay with us."

"I already like both of you," Aang said.

Katara's new arrival closed another capsule and placed in back on the belt, flicking his wrist a little bit so that the plastic tablet bounced and landed again.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," his companion murmured spitefully. And though she didn't mean for it to sound bitter, the effect of her comment lingered there with him. He placed the rest of his tablets on the belt as softly as he could, looking up at her each time he completed one.

"Do you like this factory, Katara?"

She responded immediately, "Just as much as I like hell," and noticed that he had finally grown used to fattening the tablets. He was actually working at a much faster pace than she was, darting his fingers with a delicate but mechanical ease through the ground chemicals. She felt a strange sensation of envy and amazement when she turned her gaze back to her own work.

"What?"

"What, 'what'?"

"You were looking at me," he stated, grinning a little broader than before. Then he turned to her and—to her astonishment—winked obnoxiously and nudged her side with his elbow. "See? I told you I'd get the hang of it."

Unaccustomed to flirtatious behavior, and uncertain as to what she should do in return, Katara continued working as a rush of warmth flooded her chest and face. She was reminded of her older male clients, and the various things they had done to her when alone. In complete honesty, she had never experienced anything as powerful—or as subtle—as Aang's gesture then, and she was confused as to how she should take it.

"Your hands are shaking," he pointed out suddenly, his voice gaining a softer, gentler quality. "Are you okay?"

She looked at her open palms to find that her fingers were—in fact—trembling without her consent. Aang was staring as if about to do something, and her tablets—as well as his—went down the belt as empty shells in a pile of would-be innards.

"I'll be fine," she managed, grabbing a handful of powder and diverting her gaze. "I mean—I...well, this..." She looked at her hands again, finding refuge in a lie. She stated lightheartedly, "No worries. This always happens, Aang. Result of the uranium, I guess."

"Oh," he said, though it was obvious that he didn't believe it for a minute.

Some time passed, and then Katara found that working alongside this new arrival was somewhat rewarding. Unlike when working with Sokka, there were always new things to talk about with Aang. He seemed like a well-rounded—though considerably foolish—kind of boy, and he made it apparent with his obnoxious flirting gestures that he liked her. Katara tried hard to avoid this, and when her hands started shaking, she would excuse it as faulty health. Then she would swear a damnation at her anatomy and her flighty heart for fancying this ridiculous mess of human.

A loud screeching noise on the intercom interrupted their tranquility. Katara's working space was but a small, dark room with a few chairs surrounding a conveyor belt and a square hole that passed for a window.

"SWT-909," a voice hissed over their groans, "This is your warden. I am requesting a hearing with you. Please leave worker SAT-5 with SWT-908 and come to my office immediately."

Katara, eyes widened now, dropped a half-finished tablet on the belt and blinked.

The voice cleared its throat and continued, "That is all," before leaving the chamber completely silent, with a ringing, bothersome echo.

"Shit," Katara spat with some difficulty. Her face was tight when she looked at Aang again. There was some sort of restless desperation in her eyes—in her manner now—that convinced him before she said it. "This is bad."

"I'll go with you," he offered. "Who is SWT-908, anyway?"

"Sokka—my brother." Oblivious to Aang's gawking, Katara slipped off her latex gloves and ran her fingers through her hair. "This is really, really bad," she stated, more urgently this time. "What can the warden want with me?"

"Maybe she wants to reward you for working so hard," Aang murmured, shrugging. But he looked up when he heard a high-pitched, cynical laugh coming from Katara.

"You don't know what it's like here," she murmured back. "You don't get rewards—only punishments."

"Well," he replied regardless, "I certainly think you're a good worker."

Katara threw the gloves away and gave Aang a sideways glance.

"You taught me all this, didn't you? And we had a good time. So, you're like a healthy balance of work ethic and the dialogue of a conversationalist."

"Okay," she said at the doorway, looking at his clumsy smile. "Thanks, Aang. I guess."

Aang nodded contently.

"I'll send my brother in." Then Katara grinned at him, which—had she seen it—sent shivers throughout his entire frame, worse than the shivers that had caused her hands to shake. She closed the door after whispering, "Wish me luck," with a barely audible breath.

In the darkness of this working chamber, Aang could sense his blood flowing to each limb with a furious quality. It was a very strange occurrence, but it pleased him nonetheless. There was something about his fellow worker that he had seen very little of after the war had started.

Life, Aang thought. There's life in her. It's just been muffled out. He contemplated the meaning of life in regards to Katara as he filled a Uranium Capsule that would surely be used to kill an unsuspecting soul in the near future.