A/N Yes, I killed Aang. Yes, I chose to write this instead of updating The Water Trials. No, I'm not sorry.

This is born from the hypothetical scenario of, "What if Aang had been killed in the final battle against Ozai?" It started off as sentences floating around in my brain and evolved into an exploration of grief for each member of Team Avatar (excluding Suki).

The formatting of this is inspired by the formatting of "all i know is gone (but i am not alone)," which is written by another user on this site, 1-800fangirl, and deals with Aang's grief throughout the canon series (oh, the irony). If you love all things Kataang or Maiko (or both!) and love delving into some heavy stuff, she has written some incredible fics that are worth giving a read.

Some important things to note about this particular canon-divergence:

-Aang dies, but Ozai lives (which is attributed to Zuko's vignette). I'd like to think that Aang manages to spiritbend Ozai, but the wounds from the physical battle are so great that Aang succumbs to them afterwards.

-The Final Battle takes place in the Fire Nation palace instead of the Wulong forest. Reason being is that I wanted Aang to die surrounded by his friends (yes, I realize I'm horrible, don't come at me). Just… use your imagination on the technicalities of it.

Anyways, this will be the last thing I post before having to go off the radar for a while, so be warned.

I'm actually really proud of this, and I hope you enjoy it as well.

DISCLAIMER: Avatar: The Last Airbender does not belong to me; all rights go to Nickelodeon and Bryke.

i. Toph: it was so much easier to be angry… why was it so much easier to be angry? (how long until the hardest rock cracks?)

She is angry.

Irritation courses through her with every antic her friends pull, every word that issues from their lips, every action they take. It grates at her nerves, burns in her stomach, gnaws at her patience. In a mere few hours, her friends have suddenly become an infinite fount of annoyances and frustrations.

Let it be known in the way she shouts at Katara when the latter tries to mother her. Let it be known in the way she jeers at Sokka's jokes, their feebleness and pathetic lack of quality laughable. Let it be known in the way she storms out of Zuko's royal meeting room, intentionally sending jagged rocks from the ground with each stomp of her foot to redecorate it.

Let it be known in the anger that stiffens Katara's posture as she screams back at her. Let it be known in the irritation that hardens Sokka's tone as he shoots back what he thinks is a witty retort. Let it be known in the indignant sputter of Zuko's voice as he chastises her for ruining (as if!) his meeting room.

Good. Let them be angry at her. Let their irritation surge through them. Let the contempt in their voices show as they shout back at her.

It gives her more to be angry about.

It is easier to be angry.

It is easier to scream back when they do. It is easier to let out all her pent-up frustrations and anger in barbed words and poisoned tones. It is easier to unload all the pain and rage she feels into several explosive shouts. It is easier to despise them for all they are and all they had been and all they will be.

It is easier, most of all, to be angry at him.

It is easier to be angry that he left them. It is easier to pretend that it was his choice, had always been his choice, to depart from them and go where none can follow. It is easier to act like he abandoned them, because then she could say he deserved to be despised. It is easier to curse him at night, when she brushes away bitter tears of loathing. It is easier to blame him for having to go and die on them.

It is easier to hate him than it is to miss him.

It is easier to hate that childlike, innocent laugh of his that echoes in her ears, long after its owner is gone. It is easier to hate the smile she remembers hearing often in his voice when he talked to any of his friends (but Katara especially). It is easier to hate his love for fun and all the memories she has of goofing off with him like the twelve-year-olds they are— were— had been. It is easier to hate his kindness, his compassion, his selflessness, his wisdom, his loyalty.

It is easier, when hot tears are streaking down her face and burning her cheeks in the solemn loneliness of night, to hate the memory of him all the more for leaving her as this pile of jagged, shattered shards of earth, because Toph Beifong doesn't do sadness and sure as heck doesn't do tears.

It is easier to go up to that statue (that Agni-cursed statue; she had never before despised stone so much), look up at where she thinks its eyes are (where his eyes would've been), and spit on the ground at its feet.

(she thinks he would've forgiven her for that act of insolence too)

(yet another thing to hate about him)

Most of all, it is far, far easier to hate him for penetrating straight through her defenses, reaching straight to her heart and becoming the first true friend she ever had.

She tells herself that she is angry, because it is easier to be angry.

But she is not sure she entirely believes herself.

ii. Sokka: they lost a savior… I lost a brother (and I failed to protect him)

Shing. Shing. Shing.

Press down. Scrape. Repeat.

Shing. Shing. Shing.

Nice and easy, now. Flick the wrist. That's it.

Shing. Shing. Shing.

The words from Sokka's father come back to him, as clear as the day he had spoken them, when Sokka had received his first boomerang—the one in his lap right now—and Hakoda taught him how to sharpen it.

He had thought he had lost it, during the Final Battle. He had thrown it at an approaching Fire Nation trooper, saving himself and Toph but also losing sight of it in the process. It had taken the Fire Nation soldier down from his perch on the airship, but it had gone down along with them.

But it came back to him. Just as it always had.

Unlike…

Sokka furrows his brow.

Shing. Shing. Shing.

Aang had been a bit like this boomerang, Sokka thinks. He vaguely remembers the joke he made about "boomerang" having an "Aang" in it (and that had been just that, a joke), but he sees the similarities between them. Both were reliable, always coming to his aid. Both had helped him get out of a pinch many, many times. But—most of all— Sokka knows that no matter what the circumstances would have been, they would always come back to him.

Until one of them hadn't.

Shing. Shing. Shing.

If he closes his eyes, he could still smell, no, taste the coppery scent of blood in the air. He could still hear the sharp gasps punctuating each sentence as Aang tried to speak through the blood (so much, so much, too much) spilling from his mouth and staining his paper-white skin. He could still see the light fleeing from Aang's (his friend's, comrade's, brother's) eyes, could see the tear stains on his sister's face as she cradled the airbender, could see the disquiet in Toph's expression and the stricken look on Zuko's face.

And he had been helpless to stop any of it.

He had watched his brother die in front of him, and he couldn't— no, didn't do anything to stop it.

(if he had been stronger, faster, noticed it earlier, then maybe, maybe, maybe—)

The officials had all gathered around them. They had offered empty consolations and void promises that the Avatar is at peace now, that he was finally resting in the afterlife. They sent up tearful prayers to the spirits for the safe passage of the Avatar to the next life.

Sokka bites back a scoff.

The Avatar. That's all he ever is and will be to the world: the Avatar. Master of four elements, savior of the Agni-freaking-world, martyred hero of the four (three) nations.

Not Aang, the boy who had daredevil tendencies and the attention span of a butterfly. Not Aang, the boy whose smile would have lit up even the darkest days. Not Aang, the boy who could laugh and play. Not Aang, the boy whom Sokka found annoying at times but secretly thought it endearing in its own way.

The world may have lost a savior that day… but Sokka had lost a brother.

And Katara…

Sokka frowns.

Contrary to popular opinion, he's not stupid. He had seen the way Aang looks at Katara, and Katara at Aang when she thinks nobody is watching her. He had seen Aang's attempts at courting her, and he had seen him evolve from awkward flirting to being as smooth as butter.

He would have griped about it when given the chance (of course he would, it's all a part of the brotherly conduct!), but… secretly? He had been thrilled by the prospect that he would actually call Aang his brother one day.

And… now…

Shing. Shing. Shing.

The funeral had brought on a multitude of conflicting feelings, but when he had looked around to see the sheer number of people who had come to pay their respects, the most potent was disgust. They didn't know Aang, probably never even bothered to learn his real name. They weren't paying respects to Aang, but the Avatar.

No, they had no respect for the boy, only the mantle of the hero.

(He loves Suki, but he feels that this is something not even she understands. She had gotten to know Aang, yes, but she had never gotten to love him, not like Sokka did.)

(Don't you understand? It's my fault!)

But maybe he is being hypocritical, Sokka thinks as he absentmindedly continues sharpening his boomerang. Maybe he is, because if Sokka had been faster, been better, had protected Aang… maybe then the funeral wouldn't have happened at all.

Maybe Aang would still be alive.

When he had seen Katara's devastated expression and the dead weight of Aang's body in her arms, he swore an oath right then and there: he would protect not only Katara but also Aang. He would defend them with his dying breath, and then get up again to keep fighting. As long as he is alive, he would never let anybody lay a finger on them ever again.

He had made that promise, and he had failed. Utterly. Completely.

Sokka looks down at his boomerang, which is now clean enough for him to see his reflection on its surface. An acidic tear drops from his eyes onto the weapon, burning a hole through it.

Some guardian he turned out to be.

iii. Zuko: a murderer lives while a child died… how is that fair? (but maybe I shouldn't be surprised)

It wasn't fair.

Not that he didn't know that before. On the contrary, Zuko knows, probably more than most, just how unfair the world can be; he had the literal scar to prove it, given to him at the all-too-young age of 13.

But this… this is the first time where he truly believed it with every fiber of his being. This is the first time where the mere thought of the injustice of it all raised his hackles and found him seething fire, cursing at Destiny, or Fate, or whatever it was that Aang believed in.

Because if it weren't for Destiny, Aang would still be alive.

He had faced what he believed was his destiny. He had faced the self-proclaimed Phoenix King Ozai (abuser, monster, murderer) and put an end to his tyrannical terror over the world… and had somehow managed to take away his firebending while also sparing his life.

And what was his reward? Gruesome wounds that were too great, too fatal, for even Katara to heal. Unimaginable agony as his body slowly shut down. Dying slowly, painfully, alone.

Zuko leans his head back, allowing the crown of his head to touch the wall behind him, and stares up at the ceiling.

And through it all, Aang had been calm. Accepting. Even with Katara sobbing over him, even with Toph screaming threats at him and Sokka denying the reality of the situation, Aang had looked straight into Zuko's eyes… and smiled.

(He thinks, perhaps irrationally, that it would've been better if Aang had cried in hysteria or screamed in anger at the unfairness of it all, because then Zuko would know for sure that Aang didn't want to go, and that peaceful look in his eyes only made everything worse because it meant he was okay with it and how could anybody be okay with it?)

Aang had smiled at him, and all Zuko could think was unfair, unfair, everything about this was unfair.

He had only been a child. He had only been a child, Zuko thinks, but then he realizes that no, he wasn't, not really—for what child would willingly give his life for the world? What child would lie drowning in a pool of his own blood, choking on it, staring at Death's maw, and still have the strength to smile?

What child would risk everything just to spare the life of his enemy?

And thus was the greatest injustice of all.

A man who deserves nothing but death, whose list of atrocities would condemn him to a thousand deaths and more, is still alive, while a boy who deserved anything and everything but death, whose list of sacrifices extended far beyond the realm of this world, had added his life to that same list.

Worse yet, the boy who had been killed by that man (monster, murderer, dictator) was the one who had decided to spare his life.

How could this be considered even remotely fair? How can Destiny judge them both and decide the one who gave everything to save the world should give his life, while the one who took everything to subjugate the world should be the one to take it? How could it, in good conscience, tell the boy with a heart too big for his own good to spare a murderer's life, while it whispers to the man with no mercy and compassion to add the ichor of the Last Airbender to the murals painted with the blood of the other Air Nomads?

Zuko wishes for many things. He wishes that Aang hadn't been given a choice at all, wishes that Fate would've forced his hand in killing his fath— Ozai, wishes that Aang would've struck before the Phoenix King did—

(A part of him, as hard as it is to believe, is grateful that Aang spared Ozai's life. It is a horrible, horrible feeling that repulses him, and he feels guilty that he even feels this way, but he cannot deny it. As much as Zuko loathes him, hates him, a miniscule part of him feels sick to think of him dying.)

(But was the life of his friend worth it? Never.)

He watches the sun dip underneath the horizon, its rays of light slowly being snuffed out by the cold black abyss of night and death, and lets the essence of fire in his lone tear sear his scar.

It just isn't fair.

iv. Katara: everyone I've loved, I've lost; is it worth loving again? (do I deserve to?)

She knew that her mother's death was all her fault.

Katara had thought that it had been her fault for not running fast enough, not being strong enough, not being courageous enough. But then she learned that Kya had died protecting her, protecting the last waterbender by claiming herself as the one. Maybe it should have made her feel better, but in learning this, extracted from that pitiful man who had murdered her in cold blood, Katara couldn't help but feel that it was worse.

Because Kya had died for her. Because that meant that her mom's death was on her.

The raw ache never really went away; it would be numbed, buried underneath the endless chores she had thrown herself into taking to just stop thinking, stop feeling, stop aching, but at night, in the secrecy of darkness, it came back.

It always did.

As time went on, the sharpness of grief had dulled slowly, but it was still there. It was only when a young airbender had—quite literally—dropped onto her lap that the ache had almost vanished entirely at times. The last year had been the best she has had since her mother died… and all because of Aang, who—by chance or Destiny, she was more inclined to believe the latter—had been given to her.

So of course Destiny had seen it fit to take him away from her too.

She stands in front of the unyielding, cold statue of Aang that had been placed in the center of the palace courtyard (blood, blood, pooling everywhere, seeping from his ravaged torso, staining her skin and soaking her clothes as she presses down, down, down). She looks up to his eyes, half-expecting to see the lively gray eyes that were always lit up with adventure, always ready to have fun, always filled with adoration whenever he looked at her.

Instead, all she gets is an unyielding gaze that looks back at her. Cold. Stony. Lifeless.

A sob rises from her throat.

She had thought it had hurt when her mother died. She had thought that the stabbing grief and sharp pangs in her heart had been agony. She had thought that the burning in her stomach on some days and the icy numbness on other days were painful.

All of that is nothing compared to the pain from Aang's death.

Every fiber of her being is on fire, every nerve stretched raw to the point of snapping. Her heart is boiling in lava, her lungs fill with ash and smoke and dust and ozone, burning her from the inside out, and she is choking, choking and trying to call out for help, trying to breathe and no one is around to help her breathe—

And she hadn't been strong enough to save the one person who would've helped her.

Just like how she hadn't been strong enough to save her mother.

She carefully cups her hand over the statue's right cheek, pretending that it is really him and that he is blushing and stammering something or other and squirming under her gaze—

But if he were really here, would she have deserved it?

When she closes her eyes, she could still see his yearning, his want, written plainly on his face as he confronted her about the kiss at the Invasion. She could still hear the confusion and undertone of frustration in his voice after she told him she was "confused." But, most of all, she could still see his heartbroken expression as she rejected him, imprinted on the insides of her eyelids with haunting clarity.

She let twin trails of bitterly burning tears carve paths down her face.

Hadn't the whole idea of pushing him away been to prevent her from feeling what she is feeling now? Wasn't keeping him at an arm's length in the event of his death supposed to keep her from drowning, drowning, drowning, drowning in regrets and grief and heartbreak and agony?

When he had confronted her on that accursed balcony, all she could think about in that moment was the white lightning splitting the air, the ozone and smoke and scent of blood pervading her nostrils, the horrible, horrible sight of Aang's dead weight plummeting to the ground.

That one moment had shattered her entire world, and she spent weeks—no, months—trying to pick up those broken pieces and put herself back together and vowed never again. She had pushed him away because never again could she ever let herself feel that way. She had thought, if she kept Aang at a distance, if she didn't let him into her heart and steal it, if she didn't give her whole heart to him, then it wouldn't hurt so badly.

But now, she realizes that she had already given her whole heart to him. Now, she realizes that he had taken it all for himself, and she never realized it before because she trusted him so much, so intimately, so willingly, because he was always there, had always been there next to her, so she couldn't feel the ache in her chest from its absence.

Now, she realizes that it would have hurt just as much as it would have had she let herself love him freely.

(but knowing this makes everything worse because instead of cherishing their last days together, instead of tightening her grip on him, she had let go entirely and pushed him away, had abandoned him to face Ozai alone and left him to die alone—)

If she had known back then… if— if she had realized how much it would hurt and how hard it would be to breathe without him, then she wouldn't have… she would've…

But Destiny had given her a chance, hadn't it. Back in the catacombs beneath Ba Sing Se, it had given her a taste, a warning, of what had been yet to come. But instead of heeding it and drawing closer to him, she had feared it and shoved him out, locked him out of her heart and denied him the one thing that would've brought solace to the both of them, and now—

Now, he is gone for good.

Katara carefully traces the contours of the likeness of his face, tears of hellfire searing her cheeks.

Is she forever destined to lose the ones she loves? Is she destined to search the world endlessly, yearning for love, and then have it in her grasp only for it slip through her fingers like water (blood)?

Her mother, the light of her childhood, taken from her. Aang, her (no, don't say it, don't think it), her best friend, her everything… gone. Just like that.

And she knows she deserves it.

How could she deserve to love again? How could she, when she sent him to his death without having the basic dignity to confess and show him and hold on to him when his time was slipping away? She was— is a coward and a fool, and all this agony eating away at her, burning her, carving her out—all of it is what she deserves.

No. She doesn't deserve to love again. Not now, and not ever again.

(hand weakly grasping hers, eyes dulling with every second, chest heaving weakly as he fights for breath, blood bubbling from his mouth)

(tasting the coppery liquid on his lips and the acrid tears from her face)

(gentle squeeze)

("I love you.")

(hand slackening in her grip)

Katara presses her lips to the cold, smooth stone of the statue's cheek and closes her eyes, letting her tears burn her hollow.

v. Aang: tragedy has befallen you, but you will rise from the ashes; weep not, my friends, for I will always be with you (this is my penance for abandoning the world)

All four of them open their eyes to a blank landscape.

As far as they could tell, there was nothing around them except a black void (but not really, because they can still feel something hard underneath their feet, like a ground, but there was no distinction in color between that and the sky). One by one, each rises to their feet and glances around at each other. Despite the darkness, they find that they can clearly see each other, and they somehow know intuitively that they are dreaming.

"Where are we?" Sokka's voice echoes in the empty space, and he frowns, glancing around uneasily.

Toph is frowning, eyes fixated on the "ground" at her feet. Katara notices and approaches her warily. "Toph?" she calls out tentatively.

Toph lifts her gaze and locks eyes with Katara, and the waterbender gives a start, because unlike the blank gazes the blind girl would give her, this one is actually focused on her. Toph frowns again, her expression twisting, before she walks towards Katara and tilts her head up, as if looking at her face. She frowns again, and Katara then realizes that Toph's eyes were darting around, as if taking note of her face. "Katara…?"

"What is it?"

"I… think…" Toph frowns again before turning her head towards Sokka and Zuko chattering in the background. "I think I can see you."

"You… what?"

"I see you," Toph repeats, annoyance flaring at Katara's dumbfounded expression. "Like, with my eyes."

Katara says nothing in response to that, so great is her shock.

Toph turns away from her and takes several steps before stopping and frowning, scanning the landscape around her. "Where are we?"

"That's what I want to know!" Sokka shouts back, waving his arms comically. Next to him, Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperation showing on his face.

Suddenly, a bright intensity shines from a particular direction. Reflexively, they all shield their eyes from the glare, squinting and trying to see where it is coming from. As their eyes slowly adjust to the bright light, they see that the light is gradually creeping towards them.

And in the center, walking towards them, is a lone, silhouetted figure.

As the figure draws closer, his features are gradually revealed in the light: asymmetrical orange-and-yellow robes; brown Fire Nation school uniform pants; soft facial features that indicate he is not yet a man; and sharp gray eyes that hold only peace and tranquility in their depths.

Most telling of all, however, is the bright blue arrow that marks his bald head.

Katara's breath hitches in her throat; Sokka's eyes bulge out of his head, and his jaw drops open; Zuko only stares in wonder; and Toph's eyes flash with a multitude of emotions, her expression all the while betraying a dumbfoundedness.

The light that had kept pace with the newcomer continues on even when he stops, wrapping around the black void and enshrouding them in a brilliance that, though bright, does not hurt their eyes. For a moment, they simply look at each other: four friends on one side, in disbelief, and one on the opposite side, gazing at them with a soft, knowing smile on his face.

"Hey."

Toph is the first to break the silence. "Twinkletoes…?" She peers up at him, hope warring with disbelief on her face. "Is that really you?" For a moment, all four of them hold their breath, wanting to believe with everything in their souls that it is really him, that it is really Aang standing in front of them and smiling as though nothing had ever happened.

Aang inclines his head, his smile never wavering. "Yeah."

And just like that, the spell breaks.

Toph's expression shifts. Without warning, she charges forward, her teeth bared in a snarl as she hurls a fist at him. It makes contact with his jaw with a bone-shattering crunch!

"Toph!" Katara cries out, horrified, while Sokka springs into action, looping his arms under her armpits and hauling her away from Aang.

Zuko takes two steps forward before halting, his uncertain gaze flitting between the two siblings who are trying to restrain Toph and the fallen airbender, as if not sure what to do.

"Let me go—!" Toph snarls, writhing in Sokka's grip. "Let me go, Sokka, let me at 'im—"

"—are you insane?" Sokka bellows over Toph's growls and curses. "That's Aang, why would you—"

"Sokka. It's okay." A quiet voice draws the two Water Tribe siblings' and the Fire Lord's gazes over to the fallen airbender. Even through the sudden act of violence, Aang's serene expression hadn't changed one bit, but now, he is looking at Toph with a gaze heavily layered with sadness.

Sokka pauses, looking at Aang incredulously. He is not the only one: Katara and Zuko, too, turn their disbelieving gazes on their friend. "Are you crazy?" Sokka cries. "She just hit you!"

Aang merely levels a calm gaze on Sokka as he rises from the ground, dusting himself off. "It's okay," he repeats quietly. Sadly. "Let her go."

Sokka turns a disbelieving gaze towards his sister and Zuko. Katara looks to be struggling with protesting against Aang's order, staring at him with wide eyes. Zuko fidgets uncomfortably, glancing to and fro, as though not sure whether to speak up.

Sokka gazes into Aang's calm, quietly sad eyes. He gauges the airbender, trying to see his angle, trying to make sense of what on Earth could possibly have compelled Aang to make such an insane request—

He breathes in. Out.

And releases her.

Toph is on Aang in an instant. Katara lurches forwards in a half-step, unconsciously taken over by her protector instinct, arms half-raised in a bending motion. Zuko grasps her by the arm, reminding her of the present, and Katara halts, staring at the scene with wide eyes.

Punch after punch is thrown by Toph, battering Aang ruthlessly, and still, Aang takes it without a word of protest, not even raising an arm to defend himself. Every time he is knocked down, he simply rises to his feet again and lets Toph unleash all her rage on him. With each blow, each crack! that resonates, Katara's heart stops. With every fist that connects, Sokka's protective instinct rises, and he fights it down. With every hissed curse that Toph utters, Zuko winces.

"You— you idiot!" Toph shoves a foot in Aang's midsection, earning a breathless umph! from him. "How could you—" She snags him by the throat before hurling him down, and Katara's breath catches. "—just—" Her foot connects with his ribs, and he rolls away, using the momentum to spring up to his feet and stand there patiently. Toph charges him again and flings out her fist, connecting with his shoulder with a force that leaves him sprawling and Sokka wincing. "—leave us?" she finishes with a roar. With each additional blow thrown, however, the power behind it lessens, as though her will was dwindling.

Finally, she barrels into him, but instead of getting knocked over, Aang catches her. She weakly pounds her fists into his chest, her strength all but gone, and she pants, "How could you…" Her shoulders shudder, and with a start, the other three realize that she is crying, flaming tears scorching her skin. "How could you leave us?" Toph's voice breaks, and her fingers dig into his robes, clenching at them, as if afraid of letting go.

Aang encloses his arms around her small frame (so small, so very very small) and dips his head, murmuring into her ear. "I never wanted to… I'm so, so sorry, Toph, I never meant to…"

Toph's expression twists further, misery etched in every line on her face. "You… idiot…"

"I know." Aang's cloud-gray eyes are sad and knowing. "I know."

Aang sinks to the ground along with her, murmuring platitudes in her ear as she cries into his chest, and Sokka, Katara, and Zuko can only stand there in awe (and maybe with more than a few tears).

Sokka steps forward now, carefully, tentatively, and gets down on his knees in front of Aang. The airbender looks up, gray eyes locking with blue, and for a moment, the two men simply regard each other.

"I—" Sokka's voice breaks, and he flinches, trying to gather what he is going to say. Aang's eyes steady him with their unwavering gaze, and he tries again. "I… just wanted to say, Aang… I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I let you…" He chokes up, averting his eyes from the airbender's in shame, his own acrid tear trailing from his cheek. "… let you die."

A hand on his shoulder compels Sokka to look up into Aang's eyes, gentle yet hardened with stubbornness. "Don't be."

Sokka raises his head, confusion flooding through him. "... what?"

"Don't be sorry," Aang repeats, the assertion in his voice startling. "It was my choice, Sokka. I chose to sacrifice myself." Aang shakes his head. "There's nothing you could have done to stop it."

"But—"

"But nothing," Aang interrupts. "I made the choice to do so. Besides…" His lips twitch amusedly, and suddenly he looks far, far older than he is. "If Destiny had deemed it my time, then it was my time."

"But Destiny isn't fair!" The sudden, impassioned outburst from Zuko draws everyone's attention to him, and he stands there, staring at Aang in disbelief. "It shouldn't have been your time, Aang, not yet. You deserved better." He shakes his head. "It's not…" His voice catches in his throat, and he only shakes his head again, fiery tears falling from both eyes.

Aang looks pensive for a moment as he contemplates Zuko's words. "You're right," he concedes. "It's not. But, then again,"—the ghost of a smile flits on his face—"a lot of things in the world aren't fair." He absentmindedly turns his attention to Toph. "Like forgiveness."

Zuko flinches.

"Kindness. Compassion." Aang raises his eyes to meet Katara's. "Love."

Katara's heart stutters.

Aang gently extricates himself from Toph's embrace and stands, stepping slowly towards the waterbender. The other three watch them, the tension between the two master benders thick in the air.

Aang stops only a few inches away, gazing up at her. A flicker of uncertainty passes through his eyes, and Katara's heart contracts as she thinks of the cause, the reason behind it.

Breathe. In. Out.

Aang gives her a shy smile. "Hi, Katara."

She breathes in—

—and rushes forwards, crushing him into a hug. Aang lets out a startled oomph!, but in the next instant his arms are around her and he is here, really here in her arms and not dead or dying (sticky liquid oozing from his torso as she tries so hard, so so hard to save him why couldn't she save him—), and she burrows her face into his clothed shoulder, letting herself cry her burning tears freely.

"—'s okay, Katara." Aang's soothing voice reaches her ears. "It's alright, Katara, I'm here." Again and again, he murmurs his comfort, and spirits how much she missed the sound of his voice.

It could have been days, or hours, or even minutes, but then (too soon), they part from their embrace. Aang reaches up to wipe away the salty raindrops on her face, and Katara flattens her hand against his, holding it against her cheek and not wanting him to let go.

Aang's eyes take on a teasing look. "Whatever happened to being confused?" he murmurs.

Katara laughs, her voice more than a little watery. "I was being a fool and a coward." I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Aang thumbs away the rest of her tears, chuckling bittersweetly. "Well, that's something we both have in common," he teased. All too soon, his expression dissolves into a more serious look. "But, Katara…" He gives her a look that makes her heart sink to her stomach. "Can you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"Promise me"—Aang's hand squeezes hers—"that you'll let me go."

Katara recoils from him, horror flaring. "What? I— no." Katara shakes her head incessantly. "No. No!"

Aang merely gives her a sorrowful look. "I don't want you to hang on to me, Katara." He traces circles on her knuckles with his thumb. "If you don't let me go, you'll never be happy."

"I don't care." Her voice is thick with tears, and she hates how weak she sounds. "I couldn't… I wouldn't ever be able to be happy without you."

Aang is aware of just how big of a hypocrite he is in the moment, telling her to let him go for her own sake; the past Aang, the alive Aang, would've jumped for joy upon hearing her words. But that was before, when he had been young and naive. Now… now he understands its importance. Now he understands what it really means.

"Yes, you can." Her bloodshot, tearstained eyes find his, and he gives her a sad, knowing smile. "I know you can. You are so, so strong, and you deserve to be happy." Katara begins to shake her head, but Aang stops her. "No, listen. You deserve to be happy and live. I don't…" Aang bites his lip. "I don't want you to give it up for me." He squeezes her hand. "You have so much life ahead of you… and I don't want to see you waste it all on me."

Katara shakes her head again, eyes desperate. "But—"

"We'll see each other again," Aang interrupts, smiling bittersweetly at her. "And when we do, it will be for forever."

"Forever?"

"Forever," he affirms. He squeezes her hand again. "But, until then… promise me that you'll keep living. Promise me that you'll keep loving."

Katara is silent as she gazes into his eyes, her stubbornness warring with a newly kindled hope… the hope of a new life. Finally, she sighs. "Okay." She closes her eyes, a new trail of tears glittering down her face. "Okay. I promise."

As she utters her words, the brightness around all of them suddenly dims, fading rapidly. Katara feels Aang slip out of her grasp and opens her eyes in a panic to see him step away from them. She reaches towards him, but he is too far, too far. "Aang! Wait!"

"I love you guys." Aang's voice rings out as the landscape rapidly darkens to black. Through the dimming haze, all four of them could see his bittersweet expression. "All of you are so strong, and I know you can make it. Just promise me… promise me that you'll be strong together." He rakes his sad gaze over them. "Promise me that you'll make it together, as a family."

There is no time. There is no time— everything is going dark so fast, too fast, but as the world falls into darkness around them, they all hear Aang whisper one last thing, resonating in their hearts:

"And remember that I will be with you... always."

xXx

In the days after they had met Aang in their dreams, they had come back together, if only to honor the airbender's last wish. They had drifted apart, torn asunder by Aang's death, but Agni curse them if they didn't at least try to mend their broken relationships.

Toph had been the first to step forward.

She had stood in front of all of them and confessed, confessed until her throat was raw and her tongue was dry, and then she confessed some more. She confessed of her anger, her pain, her hatred, but, above all, she confessed of a little girl who had lost her best friend and didn't know what to do.

Each had followed in quick succession.

Sokka spoke of his guilt over not being able to protect Aang. He spoke of the monk, the boy (so young to die, too young to die), the man (because he wasn't a boy in his wisdom and maturity) who had become the closest thing to a brother to him. He spoke of the endless annoyances (but that's what all brothers bring to the table), but he also spoke of the love he had for the young monk and the shame that eats him (if I had just been faster, gotten there earlier—). Finally, he spoke of his most secretive hope: that he would've been able to actually call Aang his brother one day.

When Katara had heard that, tears had sprung anew in her eyes, but she made no effort to wipe them away.

Zuko had shared with them the fact that Aang had only been a boy who had been forced to face a man, a murderer. He shared the cruel, cruel irony of the spirits who had deemed Aang his fate, had shared his embittered heart and his disinclination to believe in what Destiny had deemed just. He shared his cynicism, which had only heightened following the death of the one so kind and so selfless, and his dashed faith in the goodness of the world (for how can the world offer up a boy to be sacrificed at the altar of war?).

Finally, Katara got up and talked. She talked about Aang, her best friend, her love, her life, her everything. She professed of the kindness of his heart, the gentleness of his soul, the compassion of his nature. She testified of his growth into the man he would've grown up to be, his maturing into the Avatar he was always meant to be, yet also of his love of life and fun and laughter. She reminisced of his selflessness, of how he would never turn his back on anyone in need and take up the world on his shoulders, alone if he had to. She talked about how utterly good he had been and how much the world didn't deserve him (a fact that Zuko—well, all of them, really—seconded).

Most of all, she told them of how much she loved him and still loves him. She told them everything, from the innocent brushing of lips in the Cave of the Two Lovers to the surprise kiss on the submarine right before the invasion. She recounted their very last heart-to-heart before he had to face his destiny, the utter heartbreak and rejection left on his face as she fled from him, leaving him to die alone, alone, alone. She confessed of her endless regrets, all the what-ifs and what-could-have-beens that run through her head, the condemnations and accusations that repeat in her head with no rest and how she pushed him away and abandoned him and how sorry, so very sorry she was and how much she wished (rewind, rewind, rewind) she had the chance to say I love you I love you I'm so sorry so very very sorry please Aang I'm SORRY—

By the time she was done, she was a gasping, sobbing mess, her tears engraved mercilessly into her cheeks as she finally let out all her grief in a keening wail. Without a word, the other three gathered around her in the center of the room and wept along with her, finally, finally, mourned together.

Alone, their tears were tongues of fire, branding hatred and shame and anger and regret into their faces. Together, they were healing waters of release, soothing their broken spirit, filling the hollows carved in their cheeks, mending the holes in their hearts.

In time, Toph would learn to let herself miss her first friend and let go of her mask of anger. In time, Sokka would come to know that it wasn't and still isn't his fault, that Aang chose to do it and wouldn't have allowed anyone to protect him (how could he blame himself for someone else's choice?). In time, Zuko would accept that the world is unfair in its cruel, unjust way, but it never stopped Aang in doing what was right, and Zuko would do well to follow his footsteps. In time, Katara would let herself live and love again, because that was what Aang wanted for her (and to settle for anything less is to spit on his sacrifice).

In time, they would mend their broken family.

They have all faced unspeakable horrors that the normal man could not even begin to comprehend. They have faced tragedy after tragedy, been beaten mercilessly into the ground, spat on and left to the merciless reign of war. They have loved many and lost many more, have stared death in the face, and have felt the grip of despair. Each time, they had gotten up, but with each additional burden, each new tragedy, each loss, it had become harder and harder to rise.

And with the loss of their savior (their friend, their brother, their love), they did not believe that they had the strength to rise again.

But they do. Their flames burn brightly still in the darkness that tries desperately to snuff them out. With every loss, every tragedy, every horror they are forced to experience, their flames dim and cool; but they always flicker back to life, brighter and more revitalized than ever before. And when they burn together, they spring forth from the ashes in a roaring inferno; and even Death cannot darken their light.

They are the True Phoenixes.

And they would rise again.

FIN.