A/N: Day 7! Late, but I still can't believe I was able to do all seven prompts!

Rating: K+
Word Count: Roughly 1,200 (How I managed to get it from 500+ to this is beyond me)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender


Aang gritted his teeth, forcing himself to swallow back a scream.

A soft glow filled the room, and he dug his nails into the mat, squeezing his eyes shut. During healing sessions, there was always a moment of excruciating pain before the relief came, but to the young Avatar, the moment seemed to stretch out into forever.

Thankfully, the initial torture did indeed turn out to be temporary, and Aang finally relaxed, almost falling forward in relief. He sighed contentedly as the water moved across the full extent of his burns, soothing them until he felt nothing more than a tolerable stinging sensation.

After a few minutes of this, Aang heard a soft swishing sound as Katara bent the water she used back into two nearby pots. He watched as she made her way across the room to retrieve some supplies, her back to him.

He swallowed guiltily. They'd both faced near-death situations countless times, but he had never seen her like this before. The rigidness in her posture, her clenched fists, the roughness in her usually graceful movements—she was obviously more upset than usual, and it didn't take a genius to guess that he was the reason behind it.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked. It was hardly more than a whisper, but he knew that it was loud enough for her to hear.

Katara stiffened, hesitating briefly before replying. "That was probably the stupidest thing you've ever done," she said curtly, avoiding both his question and his gaze as she turned on her heel and walked briskly back to her spot behind him, arms full of bandages and ointments. "At least you had the sense to make sure it was your back that took the damage," she muttered, the hard edge still present in her tone.

Aang averted his gaze as the afternoon's events rapidly played out in his mind once more: the rebels, the flicker of fear in her eyes, his instinct to protect her, the flash of fire, the split-second searing pain that came right before the darkness. In hindsight, there were so many other ways he could have saved her, but as he had proven earlier, rationality tended to take a backseat in times of panic. What he did was stupid, yes—crazy, even. But if the outcome was her being unscathed . . .

He sighed. "I'm sorry for worrying you. But I can't say I regret doing it." His words were met with a pregnant silence as Katara continued to focus on nothing else but tending to his injuries.

Aang bit his lip; bottling up her emotions and distracting herself with work were his girlfriend's defense mechanisms against things that would otherwise break her. She was only postponing the inevitable, of course, but the Avatar didn't dare push her. Trusting she would let it all out in her own time, he sat there quietly, eyes trained on the wooden floorboards. After all, they were both insistently hiding the pain they knew the other was already aware of.

They stayed like that for a while: Katara methodically bandaging his burns and Aang resisting the instinct to wince every time raw skin came in contact with the ointment. As good a patient he was, however, she was a far better healer—her movements were deft but gentle, never pausing. So when she came to an abrupt stop a few seconds later, Aang's heart sank. She had reached her limit; something had finally broken her.

True enough, the young man felt the touch of her careful fingers lingering on the very edge of the spot where Azula's lightning had passed through him. Knowing what she was thinking, he turned, looking over his shoulder. Her ocean eyes were filled with anguished tears that she was trying in vain to blink back.

"Don't cry, Katara." He slowly adjusted his position so he could face her fully, clenching his teeth as agonizing pain shot through him at every movement.

"No, don't move," she told him, but the Avatar obstinately ignored her, not stopping until she was directly in front of him. There were beads of sweat on his forehead from the effort, and the healer shakily flicked her hand to bend them off.

"You're so stubborn," she chided him half-heartedly, shaking her head.

The corner of his mouth pulled up in a half-smile. "I know."

"I didn't say that was a good thing." Her tone was clipped, and the expression on her face hardened once more.

He sighed, his gray eyes pleading. "Katara—"

"I almost lost you, Aang. Again," she said, her voice breaking. The tears she had been holding back leaked out as she closed her eyes, and Aang was sure she was reliving the nightmare that had occurred all those years ago in Ba Sing Se.

"Hey," he said gently, trying to comfort her with his voice alone. "I'm still here," He did his best to muster up a reassuring smile.

She drew in a shuddering breath. "By sheer luck."

"No, by you," he corrected. "You saved me so many times, Katara. Could you really blame me for wanting to return the favor?"

"Well, it's an awful way of returning it," she snapped, slamming a palm down onto the mat and making him flinch. Regret instantly filled her blue eyes when she realized what she had done. "I'm so sorry, Aang, I just—I don't know what I would do—"

"Shh, Katara." He moved his good arm to place a hand on top of the one next to him.

Her shoulders slumped in exhaustion. "You saved me today, Aang. And you almost died doing it." Her mask of anger had finally disappeared, exposing the pain and vulnerability she had been trying to keep to herself.

Aang gently stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. As much as he would have liked to deny what she said, lying to her would be useless. "True," he admitted. "But you want to know why I did it anyway?"

She looked up at him, and he easily recognized the sapphire eyes that had greeted him when he awoke from the iceberg, the same relieved ones he saw after she brought him back from the dead. They cautiously searched him for the truth, even more striking in comparison to the muddy trails sweat and tears had left on her dirt-coated face. The Avatar smiled at her softly—she was hardly the picture of perfection at the moment, yet there was an undeniable beauty about her that no amount of filth could ever cover up.

"You mean the world to me, Katara," he said, holding her gaze. "Just the thought of you . . . dying . . ." He choked on the last word, shaking his head. "It's unbearable. I'd throw myself in front of a rebel to save you anytime."

"I'd do the same for you," she whispered, her face only inches from his.

His mouth twitched. "I know. Because that's what you and I do, Katara. We save each other."

Katara cracked a small smile at his words, leaning in to gently brush her lips over his. "We do."


A/N: If you're wondering, yes, it was a Mockingjay reference.

'Til next year! :)