Air - Five years, three months, two weeks, three days

Katara cut the soldier's throat and it was like she was cutting herself loose of something heavy and real. She left the arena floating high above her stumbling, battered body, watched as she collapsed just a few steps into the doorway, heard the pounding footfalls and her name on well-known lips. She smiled for him before she let herself lift into the darkness. The very least she could do for him was smile.

For a long time she watched a thousand shades of black rise and fall and rise around her. Sometimes she drifted near and could almost touch the silk sheets clutched in her fists or the calloused hands smoothing over her cheek. Probing fingers wiped salve where she was burned or stitched her together where she had come apart. There was knocking and harsh voices and silences that stretched out tensely enough that she thought they might snap. She listened quietly while he pleaded and soothed. She swallowed broth when it was held up to her lips.

Mostly, though, she drifted far. She drifted back to every nightmare she had ever had, to dip her toes through the moment Umako tied his necklace around her throat. She drifted forward across every birthday Koan would never have or ever wry smile Mai would never give. The world felt lovely and cool when she was drifting, tingling gently against her rubbed raw heart. She didn't mean to stay, but she did. She drifted for a long time, watching shadows grow and dissolve, building new faces each time.

When the knock came again, she was watching Umako read her letters. Zuko scowled and opened the door a crack. Umako scowled and crumpled the letters in his fists. "Whore," he said, his voice thick with venom.

"Leave us alone, Aang," Zuko said through the crack, his voice thick with venom. "No one asked for your— hey!"

Aang shoved his way through the door and Zuko stumbled back. "Get out of my way, Zuko," Aang said. "I'm serious." He held his staff loosely in his hand. Smoke curled from Zuko's clenched fists and he glared at the servant girl who hovered nervously in the doorway. The girl wasn't looking at him though. She peered past the Fire Lord and the Avatar towards the couch where Katara lay. Her gaze was gentle, worried, but then something blurred and the shadows rose up and a second face wavered over the first, its gaze was hard and disgusted.

"I'm sorry, Fire Lord, but I had to say something," she whispered, eyes downcast.

"What smells like Southern Rat?" she hissed, looking her up and down.

Aang's face went pale when he saw her. He dropped to his knees at her side and took one of her wrists in his hands. There was an ashen cast to her skin that reminded her of funeral pyres. Mai's funeral would have been done in the Fire Nation way. She hadn't gone. She had been a prisoner in the mountains.

"Katara," Aang said sharply. "Wake up."

Zuko grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away. "Leave. Her. Alone," he snapped. "She's fine. She's healing." Aang's mouth dropped open, his expression twisted halfway between incredulity and outrage. Somewhere, somewhen, slow heavy footsteps circled her again and again and again. Whatever they'd tied over her eyes was rough and foul-smelling. There was a low, dark chuckle. The footsteps did not stop.

"Healing? Zuko, she's practically comatose! Noe says she doesn't eat or sleep—"

"Noe doesn't know what she's talking about, I make sure she eats—"

"Are you joking? There's obviously something wrong!"

"You don't know what you're talking about." There was a darkness in Zuko's voice that only ever bubbled to the surface when he was afraid. "She'll snap out of it— she always snaps out of it. She just needs a day or two—"

"Zuko, it's been five days!"Aang's voice was a slap, an explosion, a knife slicing through flesh. Katara twisted the words around in her hands, testing the feel of them. Five days. Five days. It stung like it was true.

Zuko's face fell and he jerked his fingers through his hair. "She always snaps out of it," he said, his voice small. Umako leaned back against the wall behind them and tilted his head, regarding her.

"She won't snap out of it," he said. Somewhere, somewhen, a little boy laughed. Katara's heart rattled in her chest.

Aang reached out tentatively and lay a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "How often does this happen?" he asked, his voice low. Zuko sighed and sat on the edge of the couch next to her and pulled a blanket up higher. He brushed a lock of hair away from her face and he took a fistful of her hair and yanked.

"She won't snap out of it," Umako sneered.

"Not often," Zuko said, tracing the curve of her cheek. "Every few months maybe." His voice was suddenly stubborn, defensive. He took her hands, rubbing the heat back into them. "She just needs a break sometimes. I take care of her, I make sure that she eats, that she's okay. She'll snap out of it. She just needs time." Aang came up next to Zuko and pressed his fingers to the underside of her jaw.

"I was meditating this morning and I…" he set the back of his hand against her forehead, then her cheeks. "I don't think this is like that. This is even worse than when we found her." The darkness broke over Zuko's expression then bloomed outward until it covered the entire room. Lost in the blackness, there was a moment when she couldn't hear anything except the footsteps.

Aang's hands kept moving, pressing firmly on her belly, smoothing down the length of her arm. "There's something wrong, I just can't quite—" Suddenly, he reached up to press a thumb against the center of her forehead.

The world went white.

Katara's back arched, her mouth opened, and she screamed. She screamed? She could swear she could hear more than her own voice crying out, all of them whirling summersaults in her head. Seven bolts of lightening pierced her through and it was like a spark to powder. Every inch of her body was numb with cold, the gentle tingle was an electric jangling raging across her skin. She tried to screw her eyes shut against the light, but the brilliance shining from Aang's face blasted straight through to her heart.

Aang jerked away, stumbled over his feet and fell, gasping huge gulps of air. Zuko had her bundled into his embrace.

Katara drifted.

"What did you do?" Zuko snarled as Aang staggered to his feet. He groaned, clutching his head with both hands.

"Shit," Aang mumbled, rubbing his temples. "Shit." He sprang forward, grabbed a fistful of Zuko's robes and hauled. Zuko stumbled to his feet, clutching Katara to him tightly. "Water," he said. "We need as much water as we can get, enough to submerge her in." He looked up at Noe, who was still hovering at the door with her hands clapped over her mouth. "There has to be a lake or river nearby, anything!" he said as he hauled Zuko towards the door. The girl nodded and stepped out of the way.

"There are thermal springs beneath the palace. The entrance is nearby—"

Zuko stopped, adjusting his grip on Katara. "Tell me what the hell is going on, Aang!"

There was a Fire Nation soldier standing at her feet. He laughed as he slid a hand from her ankle up to her knee.

"I'll explain as much as I can, but we have to move, Zuko. She's dying."

So many pairs of eyes, too many pairs of eyes, peered at her from the depths of the gloom.

Zuko ran.

Aang spoke quickly as they went, but his voice wavered and shimmered, too distorted to hear. Instead, Katara listened to the quick rasp of Zuko's breath and to the enduring drum of his heart. It lulled her, the busy sound of Zuko being alive. Mai rolled her eyes as she kept pace with them.

"For now."

The walls around were made of stone and carved ice and every doorway they passed led to a room with a crib.

She had known there were hot springs beneath the Palace, but never visited them. The cavern was dimly lit and shaded lanterns cast a gentle, golden glow. "Dimly lit hallways were more your style, if I remember correctly." Mai dragged knives across her skin and watched something too crimson to be blood bead along her arm. Zuko pulled off her robes with quick hands, leaving her in her under wrappings, then stripped off his own shirt. Aang was already wading into the nearest pool, bare from the waist up.

"In here. You'll have to hold her up." Zuko scooped her into his arms and climbed down into the spring. He sat them on the lower ledge and arranged Katara in his lap, her back against his chest. Zuko combed his fingers through her hair and tied it into a messy braid. Aang pressed his fists together and his eyes closed

"I don't understand," Zuko murmured. "My healers said she was fine."

Aang's mouth twisted, but he didn't open his eyes. "They wouldn't have known to look for this. I wouldn't have even known to look if it hadn't been for…" He paused and squeezed his eyes more tightly together. "Most people's chakras are never completely clear. Blockages come and go; there's always something we're working through." The arrow arching over his forehead began to glow and the light flowed down his neck, over his shoulders, into his hands. He opened his eyes and they shone the same white-blue. He reached out and pressed two fingertips to the center of her forehead. There was no blinding light this time, but a line of gentle warmth fell from the top of her head, through her neck, and stopped at the base of her throat. Her entire middle felt still and cold, but a flicker of heat settled at the base of her spine. "Water," Aang murmured, touching her hip. "Fire," he touched her stomach, "and air." He pressed his knuckles to her heart. His hands felt hot against the chill of her skin. "They're all stopped. No movement, no chi. She's already slipping away."

Zuko's grip tightened around her waist and a pair of hands tightened around her neck. "But you can fix her." Aang frowned.

"I can help," he said slowly, "but Katara has to fix it." He lay his left hand on the top of her head and his right hand on her shoulder. Umako sat across from her with his feet dangling into the pool. His lip curled as he caught her eye.

"She won't snap out of it."

"I'm sorry, Katara," Aang whispered. "I think this will hurt." Mai peered over Umako's shoulder.

This already hurts.

Aang's fingers contracted over her forehead and he forced her head back. His fingers tented over her heart. He pushed and something inside, something feeble and quickly growing cold, rose up to respond. The shadows writhed and descended, smothering everything except for her and Aang. He tilted his head and looked past her body, saw her where she drifted.

"Katara," he said. Katara's heart pounded in response.

"Aang." Her voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed and magnified a thousand times.

"Tell me about the guilt."

There wasn't room to refuse. The images rose unbidden and poured out of her mind. The selfish, dogged way she pursued mastery of waterbending. The desperate, thoughtless way she buried herself in Umako's touch. The easy, casual way she slid Koan into anyone else's arms. The moment she gave him to Mai and sent them out to face the funeral fires.

Aang's face fell.

"We can tell you it wasn't your fault every day until the end of time. But it doesn't do anything unless you believe it."

Aang tilted his head and a hundred faces filled the world, crowding out the images pouring out of her mind. Sokka, Zuko, Iroh, Hakoda, Koza, Kanna, Toph, Aang.

"Isn't there anyone left?" he murmured into her heart. "Isn't there anyone you care enough about to come back to?" Again her answer came unbidden, strong and clear. Yes. "Then it's time to forgive yourself."

It wasn't like a sigh, or a breath of relief. It was more like a cut, like hacking off her own dead limb. It didn't happen all at once, but in fits and pieces. But when it was done, she opened her hands and the guilt dropped away.

The frigid feeling pulsed and contracted up into her stomach. Katara groaned and doubled over, clutching her middle. Aang wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"It hurts," she moaned.

"I know." He rubbed her back. "Tell me about the shame."

This time it wasn't images, but sensation that broke over her like waves cresting in the ocean. Cool hands touched her hesitantly, reverently, smoothed the hair away from her forehead to kiss her there. They hadn't had sex, not on their wedding night, not for months afterward. He spent their nights building her trust in him, learning her mind and holding her hand. He didn't take anything she wasn't willing to give. He was her friend before he was anything else.

And then there were hot, bruising hands clawing down her back, clutching her hips, tugging at her hair. Like a match to powder, they were an explosion. It hadn't taken much more than gold eyes on hers to coax her to lay down in his bed and give him everything she had left.

Whore, he whispered. Whore. Umako's eyes were hard and narrow. You treat her like some back-alley whore.

"No." Aang raised his arm, Umako's gaze dissolved, and Aang's wide eyes were there instead. "That's not who you are, Katara. And that's not what he thought of you."

"He was right." The darkness swirled and started to contract around Aang's face, but he raised his hand again and it fell away.

"You love Zuko," he said. He took her hand in his and the darkness continued to fade, pulling away from her. "That's nothing to be ashamed of." Katara scrubbed at her face and Aang pulled her into the circle of his embrace. "Let it go," he whispered into her hair. "Come back to him. Let it go."

The shame was something thick and slimy on her skin. She trembled, but she raised her hands. The water from the spring began to glow and slid up to cover her head. The darkness drained off of her in wave after sickening wave, and when the water ran clean there was warmth in her belly, but throbbing icy agony in the center of her chest.

"Aang," she gasped. Aang's hands were tight around her shoulder.

"I know," he whispered, "I know. You're doing so well. There's only one more. Tell me about the grief."

It was like asking about the stars in the sky, about the sand on the beach, about the salt in the ocean. One by one a thousand hearts turned away and disappeared. Her mother's body turned red and black against the fresh powdered snow. Jet's cocky smile gone slack and crooked. Zuko's face turned away from her as she chose her husband over him. An explosion of light as her son burst into flames. Her father's boats fell over the edge of the horizon. The steel in Umako's eyes as he inspected the marks left by her lover. Aang's handwriting scrawled on a tearstained page.

I can't.

She clutched her hands against her heart and struggled to breathe through her tears. "People you love," she whimpered, "always leave." Aang wound his arms around her, crushed her to his chest.

"Katara," he sighed, and she could feel the sadness weighing on his shoulders. "Katara, it's not true." She shoved him weakly.

"It is!" she screamed. "It is!" Hakoda put her hand in a stranger's. The soldier shoved his hand up her skirt. Aang's letters slowly faded in frequency and length until the silence between them stretched to span years. Aang pulled back so that he could see her eyes.

"I loved you," he said, his voice suddenly rough. "And… and that changed, but it didn't go away." He leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead. "No one you love ever really goes away."

One by one, everyone she had lost became smoke, which became light, which swirled gently around her. "Love never stops," he said, touching his thumb to her chin. "Only changes." The light pulsed, then contracted sharply into a shadow outlined in brilliance. Katara squinted and shielded her eyes, but through her fingers, she thought the shadow might have been a girl. A girl with dark hair and brown skin who scowled like Zuko with a temper like the sea.

"Let it go," Aang said, "and see where this all ends up."

Grief was a wound, always bleeding, always there. It had been there for so long that Katara wasn't sure anymore who she was underneath it. But the grin on this girl, this little blue-eyed girl… Katara raised her hands and pressed gently against her own heart. The water sank deep, knitting together what had come apart. And it hurt, and it scared the hell out of her. But Katara let it drop away and let herself hope.

Her eyes opened at the same moment that his did and slowly Aang pulled his hand away. There was a long minute when all she could do was blink. The three of them were alone in the room, no specters appeared to taunt her. The shadows stayed where they were, flickering in the torchlight. Aang was breathing heavily, his eyes wide and suspiciously bright. Zuko's hands moved gently over her hair. He whispered her name.

Katara burst into tears.

She scrambled to turn, splashing them all with water, and wrapped her arms and legs around Zuko as tight as she could. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, sobbing messily as Zuko held her tight.

"It's okay," he whispered. His voice caught and he cleared his throat. "We've got you. You're okay. It's going to be—"

"I'll do it," Katara blurted, wiping clumsily at her eyes. "I'll do it. I'll marry you."

Zuko's jaw dropped and the flames in the torches along the walls jumped three feet into the air. "I— what? Are you—?"

"I'm sure," Katara interrupted and cradled his face in her hand. "Of course I'm sure. I love you. I'll do it. I'll marry you."

Zuko stared for a moment and then crushed his lips against hers. Katara laughed despite herself and gave him the moment, twining her fingers into his hair. But then she pulled away and disentangled herself gently from his embrace.

"I'm in my underwear right now," she said, reaching for Aang's hand, "but I'm going to give you a hug anyway." Aang grinned and wrapped his arms gently around her shoulders. "Thank you," she whispered and Aang's grip tightened.

"Always," he murmured back and kissed her hair.

And everyone who had died was still dead. But Katara had hope.

A/N: And thus ends the Water Cycle! This chapter was insane to write, up until like Wednesday I didn't even have a solid idea on what I was actually writing about. Aang is honestly not my favorite character on the show, so it was a struggle to get him in and do him justice. But then once I had it I literally did not want to let it go. This just might turn out to be one of my favorites!

To those of you who reviewed, I'm in the process of responding! I definitely appreciate all the love!

Happy Easter!