He smiles from across the table as he moves another piece on the board. Aang sits and looks down at the table, thinking over his piece placements, analyzing his strategies. And yet, at the same time, he can't shake this nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

This feels right… and so very, very wrong.

"Is something the matter, Aang?" Aang looks up to see him smiling down at him, although there is a small crease in his forehead, like he is faintly puzzled. His gray eyes shine with concern, and for the moment, the apprehension in the back of his mind eases.

Aang turns to look down at the board again, frowning at the current piece placements. "Yeah, no, everything's fine. It's just…" He trails a finger thoughtfully over one of his Pai Sho pieces. "The way your strategy works, you've trapped me everywhere else. The only thing I can do now"—he moves the tile one space forward—"is to either move forward"—he slides the tile backwards—"or go back.

"And I don't know which would be the better move," Aang continues. He slumps in his seat, looking down at his hands. "As much as I try, I can't see where either move will lead."

His opponent's eyes twinkle mysteriously. "Quite the dilemma you've found yourself in, I would say."

"Yeah," Aang sighs. He slumps back down and looks out the window. A breeze had apparently picked up, swirling a leaf around. Beyond, he can see his peers, his friends, laughing and playing with the airball.

For some reason, the sight only brings back that cold apprehension that only seems to intensify by the moment. It is a sense of displacement, of wrongness, that pervades his instincts, a voice deep within his soul that is calling to him, warning him.

And yet, at the same time, the sight fills him with a comforting warmth he hadn't felt for a long, long time. It is a sense of belonging, of rightness, that settles deep in his bones and grounds him to this present, and that?

That feels very, very wrong.

Aang frowns to himself again, looking back down at his hands. There was something missing, he knows, something that he can't remember. He can feel it lurking on the edge of his consciousness, poking and pricking at him, but for the life of him, he can't remember what—

(fire)

(smoke)

(screams)

Aang jolts up on his feet almost unconsciously, nearly knocking the pieces out of place. He stares down in shock at his opponent, who merely looks up to him. In his eyes, Aang can see the truth so clearly that he couldn't believe he'd forgotten.

Aang struggles to find his voice again. "You… you're dead," he manages out.

His opponent nods.

Aang stares out the window, where he sees his friends laughing as they bent a leaf to the wind, almost like nothing had ever happened. Now that he looks again, he can see there is a slight shimmer in the air, a dream-like quality to his surroundings that makes him feel he isn't really there. "You're all dead."

When he turns back to his opponent, Aang sees his sorrow and his compassion in those gray eyes, and a stab of grief hits him in his chest, as sharp as ever. Even after all this time, even after he thought he had come to terms with his loss, it never got any easier.

(tears)

(grief)

(rage)

"Then… then what does that mean for me?" Aang demands, not caring to hide the quaver in his voice. "Is this even real? A memory? Or am I really…" He can't finish the thought.

He doesn't need to.

His opponent rises to his feet and hides his hands in the folds of his robes. "No, no, you are not dead," he quickly reassures Aang. "Not quite, anyways."

Confusion clouds Aang's brain. "'Not quite'?" he repeats.

"It is true you have entered the Spirit World," the elder concedes, "but you're not fully alive, nor fully dead. You are, shall we say, at a crossroads."

A crossroads. Aang shudders as the words bring back memories of crystals and ozone and lightning, of scorching pain and overwhelming guilt and fatal mistakes. Before he can stop himself, he mutters, "I've never had much luck with crossroads before."

To his surprise, the elder only chuckles with amusement. "It happens even to the best of us." He looks down at Aang, his eyes softening. "You were only a child."

To that, Aang has no response.

(how would he, when he already learned to forgive himself?)

The elder folds his hands back into his robes. "It is true that you aren't alive or dead right now," he concedes, "but your decision may very well change that."

Aang gives a start when the implications of his words sink in. "Wait, so you mean… I can choose?"

His opponent nods again. He reaches over the table and places a finger on the tile Aang had been contemplating over. "You can either choose to move forward"—he slides the tile towards himself, before sliding the tile back towards Aang—"or go back."

That's when Aang notices the doorway behind his opponent. It seems innocuous enough, with a simple sandstone archway that lined the opening. A soft but blinding light fills the entirety of the opening, a warm yellow glow spilling on the floor. Just beyond, Aang can hear the sounds of his friends laughing, the joyous sound echoing through the chamber.

(he's almost forgotten what their laughs sound like)

Then he feels a tug deep in his gut, pulling him the opposite direction, and he turns to see another doorway behind him. This doorway was similar to the first, with the exact same archway lining it. But unlike the first doorway, this doorway's opening leads to a hallway that disappears into darkness. As he approaches that doorway, he can hear whispers, voices vaguely familiar but too faint for him to discern.

Aang turns back to his elderly opponent, who merely appraises him with a raised eyebrow. "So…" He takes a few steps forward, biting his lip in contemplation. "I can either move forward"—he points at the doorway of light—"and be with everyone again, or I can go back"—he jabs a thumb over his shoulder—"and wake up, and…"

And lose you all over again. The words are there, unspoken but undeniable, and though he doesn't say them, he hears them all the same. And from the looks of his companion's expression, he hears them too.

(is it worth it, losing them again?)

The elder sighs and moves around the table to stand in front of Aang. Aang realizes he now stands eye-to-eye with the elder when once, a long time ago, he had to crane his neck up to address his mentors. "It's not my place to sway you one way or another," he tells Aang. "There are both good and bad parts of each decision, and they both hold unknowns. It is up to you to make the choice."

Aang turns to look back at the doorway shining with that soft, warm light that called to him, beckoned him to regain all he has lost. He hears the children's laughter, sees the warm sunlight glowing in the opening, smells the fresh breeze drifting through the windows. If he listens closely enough, he swears he can even hear Kuzon's and Bumi's boyish laughs.

There is nothing more that he wants to do than to run towards them, to find them and all his friends and become Aang again.

But then he feels a tug in his soul, stronger than ever, pulling him back towards the other doorway. He hears them calling his name, growing louder by the second, remembers their names and faces, sees them reaching out for him.

Toph. Sokka. Zuko.

Katara.

Aang gasps as his vision returns to him. He looks over to see his elderly companion, who only gazes at him with understanding, as though already knowing what Aang is going to say. Aang says it anyway.

"I need to go back."

The elder nods. "That's what I thought you would say."

Aang glances down at the lone tile on his board, the white lotus tile that he spent so much time contemplating over. A wave of doubt suddenly swamps him, and before he can stop himself, he finds himself saying, "But I guess… I just don't know if it's really the right thing for me to do." He sighs, slumping down in his seat. "I mean, I know what'll happen if I move forward… but I don't know what's waiting for me when I go back."

His opponent hums thoughtfully in response. Aang looks up to see the elder smiling down at him. "We all fear what we don't know; that's only natural," he says reassuringly. "But sometimes, it's only when you go back and face it"—he slides Aang's tile back one space—"that you begin to see the whole picture."

That's when Aang sees it.

The lotus flower.

His elderly companion straightens before walking over to him. "You have already grown so much, and you still have so much more to learn and experience, and so much more to live for." He looks down at Aang, his gray eyes twinkling. "It takes a leap of faith to face what you do not know. But sometimes, the only way for you to truly move forward is to go back."

Aang mulls over his words. He isn't entirely sure he understands his mentor's words, not really. But they cling to his soul with its steady truth and settle in his bones with a conviction that feels right.

Finally, Aang looks up to his elder. "Gyatso…" He pauses, not sure of what he wants to say next. "When all of this is over, when I've done everything I needed to do… will you be waiting for me?"

Gyatso smiles, the gentle glow of the Spirit World softening his features even more. "Of course I will, Aang. I will always wait for you."

Aang doesn't realize how much he needed to hear those words until he hears them. Tears of relief inadvertently spill from his eyes, and he finds himself falling into his mentor, his friend, his father, clinging to his robes and burying himself in his familiar embrace. "Thank you," he whispers, over and over again. "Thank you."

When Gyatso releases him and Aang finds himself at the doorstep of shadows, he only glances back one final time to see Gyatso nodding with approval, pride shining in his gray eyes.

(i will always wait for you)

When he finds himself walking down the dark hallway, he hears his friends, his family, all calling his name, all pleading with him to come back, come back, and he picks up the pace, rushing towards them.

(i'm coming, i'm coming)

When he sees the differently colored threads (green red navy cerulean) weaving their way towards him as the world falls away into darkness and shadows, he reaches for them, knowing that they're reaching out for him.

(i'm coming back for you)

When he wakes up in his friends' embrace, he lets himself melt into their love and worry and berating because they care, they care, and he almost can't believe he ever doubted it was the right thing to do.

(i'm here)

And when he grows and makes mistakes and matures and builds his own family and learns to live and laugh and love again, Aang finally understands what Gyatso meant all those years ago.

And it feels like coming home.

a/n you could probably find a lesson in here somewhere but don't ask me what it would be lololol