Disclaimer: I do not own ATLA or its characters.

The Hostage

Katara held out a hand to catch a falling snowflake. It hovered above her open palm, cold and ethereal, before she let it melt and trickle slowly to the ground below her.

"You used to do that when you were little," her father noted with a soft smile.

"Some things don't change," she murmured. "Let's go back. It's getting cold."

Hakoda nodded and stood from the bench. He was just reaching one hand out to help her up when a loud shriek rent the night air, startling both of them.

"What was that?" they asked in unison.

Another loud noise echoed around them, and Katara looked around wildly. "Its coming from outside the village."

Without a word, Hakoda sprinted on long legs back down the long alley toward his house, and Katara followed, her heart and mind racing. Her father skidded around the corner, nearly running headlong into Sokka and Suki, who outside the house, peering into the darkness the skirted the edge of town.

"That's gotta be Aang," Sokka said as another loud sound rumbled up the alleyway. "He went after the Spirits."

"Sounds like he found them," Hakoda said wryly.

"Then, let's go," Katara said, making for the edge of town.


Aang could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He ducked under a wing as it whistled over his head like a whip. With a smooth spin to gain momentum, he snapped his arms out, sending wall of air barreling toward the furious Spirit in a deafening rush.

Kiviuq's wings wrenched behind him as the torrent caught him, and he squealed in pain and rage. He head whipped his massive head around, his beak snapping and narrowly missing Tokala. The Northerner dove out of the way as Kiviuq bit and tore great rents in the snow, scrambling to reach him.

"Don't!" Aang yelled at Tokala as the older man stepped in close, his whale's tooth knife positioned above a vulnerable spot in the Spirit's neck.

Tokala faltered, his advantage lost. The great bird twisted out of the way with surprising agility, knocking Tokala onto his back and diving on top of him, obscuring him from view. Aang ripped a layer of snow off the ground in a flash, melting it and sending a flood of water to freeze Kiviuq in place. Tokala quickly scrambled out of the way, unharmed. He made his way over to Aang, dodging the bird's great wings as they beat furiously against the encasing ice.

"You can't hurt him. We still need answers," Aang ordered breathlessly when Tokala reached him.

"He doesn't share your reservations," Tokala observed, unruffled.

Aang ignored him, instead going before the furious Spirit, his arms spread wide in a gesture of peace. "Kiviuq, please. We can still solve this peacefully."

"Release me at once!" the great bird shrieked, words woven within a shrill cry.

"I can't," Aang said in anguish. "Not until you promise not to hurt anyone."

Kiviuq stilled suddenly. The movement- or lack thereof- was disorienting, and Aang took an involuntary step back. The bird's massive head lowered suddenly, glaring at Aang through furious brows. "I've already made a promise, Avatar Aang," his voice rumbled through his open beak.

A gust of wind swirled around them, through them, tearing at Aang's robes, and once more, the Spirit dissipated into a flurry of snow, sailing away, carried on the wind. The ice that had encased him now stood empty.

"That can't be good," Tokala noted wryly, and for once, Aang found himself agreeing with him.

"Be ready," Aang warned. "He's done this before; he'll be back."

They both jumped at the sound of many footsteps. Katara, Sokka, Suki, and Hakoda ran from the village, eyes wide with concern.

"What's going on?" Katara demanded as the group skidded to a halt in front of Aang.

"I found the Spirit," Aang said grimly. "He says we're looking for the same thing."

"And what thing is that?" Tokala asked, leaning forward with interest.

Aang grimaced. "A secret pact, now broken."

"What pact?"

"He wouldn't say."

"That's helpful," grumbled Sokka.

Suki looked around. "Where is he?"

"He'll be back," Aang said. "We don't have a lot of time; we need to be ready. I want to de-escalate this situation before-"

An explosion of wind battered at them, knocking all but Suki and Aang off their feet as Kiviuq fell upon them. His body, previously ghostly white, now bore hundreds of angled black markings, the strange semblance of many eyes. His actual eyes had shifted to a furious red, and his gull-like feet had morphed into great talons. Talons that now reached for Sokka, dragging him by the leg until Katara sent a whip of water that sliced him deeply. Sokka rolled away and drew his sword the moment Kiviuq released him. He expertly whipped the great blade at one of Kiviuq's wings, but Aang deflected the blow on Kiviuq's behalf with a whip of water.

"Try not to hurt him," Aang pleaded.

Hakoda frowned. "It may be too late for that," he said before leaping into the fray.

To Aang's dismay, it was an all out battle now, a dance between man and beast, the great Spirit skimming over the top of the snow with the speed and agility of a starling, wreaking havoc with his wings and beak and open talons. Suki flipped out of the way when Kiviuq tore at her, and his attention shifted once more to Sokka, who stood behind her at the ready, sword in hand. The Southern Warrior made a smooth upper cut with his sword, causing the bird to jerk backward to avoid the whistling blade. Suki took advantage of his momentary distraction to scramble onto the Spirit's back.

"What on earth are you going to do now?" Sokka bellowed at the Kyoshi Warrior, ducking behind Katara as she warded off the snap of the Spirit's beak by encasing it in ice.

But Suki was just as much at a loss as Sokka, and was thrown from the bird's smooth back seconds later, scrabbling at feathers as she fell. She landed on her back, the wind knocked from her lungs, and Kiviuq fell upon her like a bird of prey. Aang and Katara sent a combined blast of water at his chest, even as Sokka swung his sword at the Spirit in a deadly arc. Kiviuq avoided the water and dove under the sword, catching Sokka squarely in the middle and taking his right thigh in his curved beak. Sokka buried his sword deep in the snow to keep Kiviuq from dragging him away, groaning with effort.

"Sokka," Suki cried, leaping forward to flick a jab at the Spirit's unprotected eye. Kiviuq dropped Sokka and lifted himself in the air with a ponderous flap of his wings, whirling around to make for Hakoda and Tokala. Suki pulled Sokka out of the way, her eyes bleak at the trail of blood they left in their wake.

Hakoda swung his heavy club at Kiviuq's great shoulder before the bird barreled into him. He dove out of the way when Kiviuq made a second pass. "We need a plan!" he bellowed.

"Freeze him in place!" Katara yelled to Aang, her arms already sweeping out a wall of water to do just that.

"I tried that already," he yelled back. He sent a series of fast, powerful kicks at Kiviuq, a blast of fire emanating from each one. They landed in the snow with deafening explosions, but one caught Kiviuq across the back, and the bird shrieked with fury.

"What does he want?" Hakoda asked, panting. "Why is he doing this?"

But before Aang could answer, the group was forced to scatter when Kiviuq dove again, clawing the snow with his talons and whipping at them with his wings. Aang flung himself into a front flip, sending a powerful blast of air from his feet at the great bird. Kiviuq roared in anger when it hit him squarely in the chest, flailing as he tried to keep his balance. His talons tore at open air as he desperately tried to stay upright. Katara was close, too close, and Aang reached out to her in a panic as one of the bird's feet pummeled her, knocking her off her feet.

"Katara!"

He watched her fall, hands flung out to catch herself. He didn't see the other set of talons until it was already swiping across his chest, tearing through flesh as easily as fabric.

It was strange; he barely registered the pain. Barely noticed it at all. But he did feel his knees drive into the snow as he fell, felt the cold of the wind as it brushed his face, and the warmth of his own blood as it ran down his chest and stomach, dripping into the snow in a startling show of red.


Katara slid over to Aang, catching him in her arms. He fell back against her chest, head limp. She was relieved to see his torn chest rising and falling, but she knew she had made a mistake. She was a defenseless target, now. They both were. And the great Spirit knew it.

It had regained its balance by now, and its long neck twisted until it had her in its sights. It ran to her, head low, beak open and wings spread, and Katara had no choice but to fling Aang to the side and raise her hands to protect them.

But her father stepped in front of them. Tokala stood behind him, matching his defensive stance, his knife held low.

"I command you to stop!" Hakoda ordered imperiously, his voice echoing around them.

To Katara's great surprise, the great bird slowed and folded his wings against his sleek body. His eyes were no less furious, but an aura of interest surrounded him. "Who are you, to order a Great Spirit so?"

"I'm Hakoda," her father answered, chin lifting defiantly, "Head Chieftain of the Southern Water Tribe."

The Spirit tilted his head. "Head Chieftain," he repeated.

"Why are you attacking our village, Great Spirit?" Hakoda asked.

"You broke your bond."

"What bond?"

The bird hissed. "You allowed great evil into this land, Head Chieftain Hakoda. Evil that has been dormant for thousands of years." His wings flapped once, beating angrily against the air. "I have been searching, but perhaps I should have directed my attention to you. A leader is responsible for the transgressions of his people."

Hakoda stood tall. "I will hold myself accountable, if you tell me what I'm answering for. No vague words or half-answers."

"We do not speak of it."

"How can I uphold an agreement I don't even know the terms of?" Hakoda questioned with an undercurrent of frustration.

The Spirit roared with fury. "It was the responsibility of your people to guard the secret! You have forgotten too much, Head Chieftain- but someone has remembered. There is a price to pay." The bird rolled his massive shoulders. "And it will be paid. You sent the Avatar to waylay me. You attacked me. You dishonored the accord. We will not have peace." His head rose high above them in preparation to strike.

Hakoda raised his arms above his head, and the Spirit stilled once more. "We didn't send the Avatar to waylay you- we're investigating, too. Aang said we're searching for the same thing. He must be talking about the death of Ambassador Katsuro. I'm guessing his death was not from natural causes?"

"As unnatural as it comes," the Spirit intoned angrily.

"You said there is a price to pay. If I pay it, will you leave the others alone? Will you let them continue their search?"

"Dad," Katara interrupted. "Wait. There's another way-"

Her father waved her off, shaking his head minutely to silence her.

The Spirit tilted his head. "Your terms?"

"They find Katsuro's killer and bring him to you," Hakoda said. "You keep me as collateral, and release me when the killer is found."

Behind them, Katara could hear the sound of Sokka struggling to reach them, his cries of protest wrenching at her heart.

The air was heavy with tension as the Spirit considered. Finally, he straightened, his wings spread imperiously above them. "You have until sundown tomorrow. If you fail, I will not only keep you; I will lay waste to your village, your people. Take these terms or leave them."

Hakoda nodded grimly. "We accept."

"Dad, no!" Sokka cried.

The Spirit flapped his massive wings once more, assaulting them with a percussive thud. Katara curled protectively over Aang, waiting for the bird to strike. But when she looked up, the Spirit was gone. And so was her father.


Katara swept the leftover plates and food from dinner off the kitchen table. "Put him here," she ordered Tokala, who had carried Aang from the scene of the fight.

Tokala grunted with effort as he set Aang's lanky body on Hakoda's rough hewn table. When he straightened, his parka was coated with Aang's blood.

She turned to her husband. He was pale- so pale- and his blood poured from him, coating the dirt-packed floor and clogging it with red.

Reaching beyond the walls of her father's house, Katara pulled water to her, coating her arms as she prepared to heal him. Sokka and Suki made their way through the front entryway, his arm slung over her shoulder for support. He, too, looked pale, but in better condition than Aang.

"I'm sorry, Sokka," Katara said brusquely as she leaned over her husband, tearing his robes out of the way. Stopping the bleeding was a priority; he'd already lost so much. "Aang's condition is more serious. You're going to have to wait."

"I'll take care of him," Suki said. "I can bind wounds." When Katara nodded at her, Suki led Sokka away, into the living room.

Katara guided water to her husband's chest, where it lay in shreds, and sent the water into his skin. Aang's eyes tightened in pain, and he cried out. She clenched her teeth against the sound of his agony.

"Your dad," he groaned.

Of course he was worried about her, even now. "It'll be okay," she muttered brokenly.

He reached for her face, his hand trembling, but she pulled away.

"Don't move," she ordered him desperately. "Preserve your energy. Your wounds are serious."

"You don't need to do this alone," Tokala said from behind her. "There are other healers."

"Bring them."

He nodded and left without another word, and Katara was lost to skin and muscle and bone, blind to the world around her. Aang's breathing was ragged, his muscles clenching and unclenching at each rise and fall of his chest.

"Hang on," she begged, pressing the water deeper. "You're okay," she soothed. "It'll be okay."

"Not worried," he murmured, barely conscious.

She almost laughed, but her fear for his life was all-consuming, so instead she leaned closer to him, gathering what comfort she could in their proximity. A tear rolled off her chin, mingling with the water, and she blinked in surprise; she hadn't even realized she was crying.

She focused on his chest to the exclusion of all else, until the bleeding stopped, until his muscle began to knit back together, weaving itself back into place slowly, draining her energy little by little with each healed fiber.

His head rolled on the table, his eyes closed, and Katara's hands shook above him. "A little longer. A little longer."


Sokka watched as Suki tore another of his father's sheets, laying it in long, thin strips on the furs that covered the floor of the small living room.

"I'm going to have to ruin your pants," Suki told him.

"Not the first time I've heard you say that," he said through labored breaths.

Suki paused in her ministrations to glare at him.

"Sorry," he grunted.

She pursed her lips. "Give me your knife. Don't be such a baby," she snapped when he hesitated. "I'm not going to use it on you. It's to cut the fabric."

He handed his knife over to her, and there was the sharp sound of fabric tearing as she split his pant leg up to the waist. She pulled the fabric apart and examined him, her hands soft on his thigh.

"I'm sorry about your father," she said. She leaned back on her heels and reached for a nearby pitcher of water. Water poured after over his wound, and her eyes tightened at his sharp intake of breath from the pain. "We'll get him back," she promised.

He only nodded, mouth shut tight against the torrent of things he wanted to say.

When Suki was satisfied the wound was clean, she reached for the linen to bind it, wrapping the long, thin sheets around his leg professionally. He winced when her movement jostled his wound. "Try not to enjoy this so much," he groaned.

Her glare returned. "You think I'm enjoying it?"

"I think you're enjoying it more than I am-"

"You're lucky you didn't lose your leg."

He blinked in surprise at her vehemence. "You're lucky you didn't get eaten by a giant Spirit."

"I had it," Suki snapped, leaning over to grab another strip.

It was Sokka's turn to glare. "You jumped on his back. Did you even have a plan?"

"Did you?" she countered furiously. "You just threw yourself in front of him."

"The situation wasn't ideal," he agreed, wincing when she firmly tucked the tied ends of his bandage away.

She leaned into him to poke him firmly in the chest. "If you had trusted me, you wouldn't be sitting here with half your thigh muscles hanging out."

"I do trust you, but you shouldn't have taken that chance."

"It wasn't chance," she said sharply. "I know what I'm doing."

"Its not a question of competency-"

Her hands went to her hips. "What, then? You thought I couldn't get out of the way in time?"

"I'm sure you could have."

"Then, you thought I couldn't protect myself?"

"No!"

"What then?"

He flung his arms into the air in exasperation. "I didn't think at all, Suki! Okay? I saw you fall- I saw you on the ground, and I..."

"You what?"

"I didn't think," he said again. "It wasn't a thought process. It was knowledge, ingrained. If you had gotten away, I would have been there. If you hadn't, well... I would have been there, too. I couldn't leave you."

She fell silent and her eyes met his with a look he hadn't seen in over a year. But he felt it, under his ribs and low in his stomach. Her lips parted slightly, and his heart rate increased in anticipation. He felt her hand brush against his chest, just over his heart, and he covered it with one of his own. If this was all she was willing to give him, he would accept it and hang on desperately.

But as soon as it began, it ended. She blinked in realization, her eyes wilder than he had seen them even during the Spirit attack.

Suki rolled away from him quickly, standing. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." He forced himself not to reach for her, not to beg that she come back.

"I didn't- that shouldn't have happened-"

Sokka scowled. "Don't say that."

She frowned and looked down at her hands.

"Can we talk about this, please? Please, Suki."

When she didn't respond, he felt the anticipation of moments before crumbling beneath him like broken stones.

"Is this how it has to be?" he asked. "Eight years gone, just like that?"

"This is what you wanted, Sokka," Suki said softly. "You ended it. Not me."

"What if I was wrong?"

She looked down at him sadly. "You were."


Aang was just starting to return to lucidity when Tokala returned. Katara looked up from Aang's wound, taking in the group of three nervous-looking young women he had brought with him.

"My niece personally trained each of these women," Tokala said by way of introduction. "Amka is a very proficient healer."

Katara nodded wearily. "Not that I don't appreciate the help you've brought, but I could use her help, too."

"She's still in mourning," Tokala protested. "She's in a delicate state right now."

Katara was too exhausted to argue. "I need one of you to help me with him," she said, nodding with her chin to Aang. He still lay on the table, one arm cast over his eyes.

One woman nodded, rolling her sleeves up professionally, the nervousness of moments before lost as she bent to examine him.

"The other two can help with my brother's wounds; he's in the living room."

"We'll see to it," one of them answered, her voice soft. She strode from the room, her companion right behind her.

Katara's attention turned to the young woman assisting her. "See here?" She pointed. "I'm working on knitting this back together, but I'm starting to lose my hold."

The girl gently moved Katara out of the way. "Rest for a moment," she ordered quietly.

Gratefully, Katara stepped back, wiping at her forehead with the backs of her bloody hands.

"What was it?" the girl asked.

"Claws," Katara replied shortly. "A Spirit."

The young woman blanched in sympathy for Aang. Reasonably, Katara mused. His wound was gruesome-looking, and the thought of the pain the Spirit must have caused him was turning even Katara's stomach.

Aang removed his arm and opened one bleary eye. "What's your name?"

"I'm Chenoa."

"Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming."

"It's my duty to serve."

"I appreciate it all the same."

With Aang's healing in Chenoa's capable hands, Katara was allowed a brief respite. She leaned against the door frame for a moment. When Tokala went to assist her, she waved him off irritably. "I'm fine." He may have helped Aang, but she hadn't forgotten his refusal to work with her.

"Please, allow me to-"

Katara set her jaw. "I said I'm fine."

"I understand that you may have reservations about me, Master Katara," Tokala said earnestly, "but I assure you that I mean you no disrespect."

"Does now really seem like the best time to address this?" Katara snarled.

Aang leaned up on one elbow, concerned, and Chenoa focused on his wounds with the single-mindedness of someone avoiding an uncomfortable situation.

Tokala bowed slightly. "Fair point. But, we may not get a better one. We're in the middle of a crisis, and the South's Head Chieftain is being held hostage. Someone needs to step into a leadership position."

"One guess as to whom you're going to nominate for that role," Katara bit out.

"Is there another more qualified than I?"

"Many."

Aang winced as Chenoa's fingers probed particularly deep into one of his cuts. "Tokala, this isn't the time for a political move."

"It's not a political move!" Tokala protested angrily. "I told you I would do anything to help my people- and my people are in trouble. I could be of service in Hakoda's absence."

"So could I," Katara countered.

Tokala faltered, eyes darting to her. "You?"

She crossed her arms over her chest with a smirk. "Hakoda is my father. I grew up here."

His face reddened. "It's- you can't-"

"Why not? Because I'm a woman?"

"That, and you're busy healing your husband; as is your duty!"

"You're out of line, Tokala," Aang snarled, standing against Chenoa's murmured protest. His knees buckled, and he caught himself on the edge of the table.

Katara had to hide a small smile at his fervor, though she didn't doubt that at least some of that fervor's origin could be traced from their recent argument. "Aang- please, can you get back on the table?" When he complied with a grumble, Katara turned back to the Northerner. "We have less than thirty hours before that Spirit returns. I don't need to tell you what's at stake. Put your reservations about working with women aside, because you're going to need my help."

Tokala crossed his arms stiffly. "I have no objection to your assistance with the investigation. I just don't think that you're qualified to-"

"Can you just-" Katara spluttered irritably. "Just don't. We need to get moving. Not that I care about your comfort, but let me set your mind at ease: I'm sure my father already has protocol in place for an unexpected absence. I'll trust you to do whatever is needed to get the Council moving in the right direction on that. In the meantime, I'd like to examine Katsuro's body, and we need to interview Katsuro's widow."

"My niece is still in mourning," Tokala snapped.

"I'll be gentle." She flicked her hand at him dismissively, a small part of her secretly reveling in ordering him around. "Go on. You have much to do and no time to waste. And let the police station know that we'll be on there soon; I want to examine the body as soon as I'm done here."

Tokala's teeth ground together. "Should you not wait for your brother and husband?"

"Neither of them have proven particularly proficient healers, and, anyway, they need rest," Katara argued. "They're both healing from major wounds. They'll need at least a few hours of sleep before they do anything else."

"I'll be alright," Aang protested quietly.

She sighed. "Please, Aang. You're not even close to healed. Rest- for me."

Aang held her eyes for a moment, then dipped his chin in acquiescence.

"On that same note," Tokala mused darkly, "we need to mobilize the Warriors to prepare for the defense of this village."

"You can do that at the Council," Aang said. "We're trusting you to do the right thing, here, Tokala. Don't abuse that trust."

"If that will be all," Tokala said through gritted teeth. He didn't wait for a response before turning in one heel and marching from Hakoda's house.

The tension dropped from Katara's shoulders, and she saw Aang visibly relax. "We have a lot of work to do," she muttered. "Let's see to this injury." She strode back to the table, grabbing up some water and weaving it around her hands. But when she leaned forward to assist Chenoa, her mouth dropped open in surprise. "You did all this? Just now?"

Chenoa flushed. "Yes, Master Katara."

Katara's brows furrowed in scrutiny. The muscle fibers in each wound were neatly healed, and Chenoa had even begun neatly knitting together some of the bottom layers of skin. Even under the best of circumstances, Katara would be hard-pressed to manage healing that quickly. "This is impressive work, Chenoa. Where on earth did you learn this?"

"I was trained by Healing Master Amka," Chenoa explained softly. "Though, I'm still learning. She uses techniques beyond what is taught in the healing houses of the North. Techniques she invented herself."

"That's amazing," Katara breathed, her fingers probing Aang's chest lightly. "It would have taken me hours- maybe days- to get this far."

"It feels a lot better," Aang noted.

Chenoa smiled, her cheeks flushed with pride. "You'll still need to rest," she told him. "But, I can probably have this healed to the top layer of skin within the hour."

"That's amazing," Katara repeated. She turned at a rustling sound at the door.

It was Sokka and Suki, followed by the other two healers. Sokka stood unassisted, without even so much as a limp.

"Quick work," Sokka explained, tilting his head toward the young women in compliment.

Katara looked at them almost helplessly. "Did you two get trained by Amka as well?"

They nodded.

"Well, I'm going to have to get a lesson from her myself," Katara said. "But, business first. Suki, you and I are going to head to the police station. We need to examine Katsuro's body."

Sokka frowned. "What about me?"

"You need to rest," Katara told him.

"But I feel fine-"

"Can you please not argue?" Katara complained exasperatedly. She tapped her lips thoughtfully. "I'd hate to ask more of you than you've already given, Chenoa, but if there's any way you'd be willing to assist us with Katsuro's examination, it would be greatly appreciated. We could use your expertise."

"Of course," Chenoa said with a bob of her head. "Elu and Kasa can finish up with Avatar Aang."

"Then, let's go."


An hour later, Aang poked and prodded at his newly healed chest as Sokka guided Elu and Kasa to the front door. His fingers traced the three evenly spaced lines that now ran from his left shoulder to his right ribs. The healers had assured him that the scar would fade with time, but Aang was doubtful, looking at the bright pink lines. He sighed. Another scar; another lesson learned.

If he had stayed focused, if he had ignored the danger Katara was in, he would have easily avoided his own brush with Kiviuq's talons. But his attention had been solely on his wife in that moment. The scars would serve as a reminder of that lesson for the rest of his life.

Maybe Katara was right. Maybe there were times he would have to rearrange his priorities, and Katara would fall to the wayside. It wasn't a particularly uplifting thought, and it sent his mood spiraling.

Sokka strode back into the kitchen and leaned against the wooden counter top. "Are you alright?" he asked solemnly, nodding toward Aang's chest.

"Yea," Aang grunted, his hands still tracing the scars. "Fine. You?"

"Yea."

Aang frowned. "I was talking more about your dad."

Sokka looked down at his boots. "Oh."

"I wanted to talk to Katara about it, too," Aang sighed, "but other things came up."

Sokka pushed off the counter to pace the small kitchen. "Why would he do that?"

Aang blinked in surprise at the outburst. "Who?"

"My father," Sokka explained irritably. "There had to have been a different way."

"I'm sure he did what he thought was best."

"If we had defeated that Spirit, we would have been able to investigate this without an ultimatum," Sokka argued. "He forced our hand; the stakes are higher than ever now."

Aang rubbed the back of his neck. "'Defeating the Spirit wasn't going so well for us."

"My dad, Katara, Suki, and Tokala were still fighting."

"With you and I bleeding out in the snow."

Sokka regarded him hesitantly. "I've seen you fight and defeat far more dangerous adversaries than that one. What happened? Why didn't you go into the Avatar State, or... something?"

Aang crossed his arms uncomfortably. "Because we needed to talk to him, not fight him. Fighting him got us nowhere but two serious injuries and a missing man. I went into the Spirit World looking for answers, and all I got was more questions. If we hurt him- or worse, killed him- we'd never get what we need."

"My dad might still be here, though," Sokka muttered.

Aang crossed the kitchen to lay a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We'll fix this, Sokka. It's not over. Katara and Suki are investigating, and once we get some rest, we'll be out there, too."

Sokka shot him a sly look. "We could always skip the resting."

"I can't imagine a faster way to make my wife more irritated with me than she already is."

"Katara's always upset," Sokka grumbled under his breath.

"She is right, though," Aang countered. "We need to be in fighting shape." He eyed Sokka sympathetically. "I promise you; we will do everything we can to save your father."

Sokka looked away. "I know."


Katara and Suki marched up the steps to the police station, Chenoa in tow. The large building was shrouded in darkness, edges and corners in sharp relief thanks to the illumination of the nearby street lights. When they reached the top of the stairs, a familiar face held the doors open for them.

"Kele," Katara said in surprise. She hadn't been expecting him. Grimly, she remembered their awkward parting earlier yesterday afternoon.

"My father sent me," he replied. "He would have come himself, but he's busy with the Council."

Suki scowled, but declined to comment. "Are they ready for us?"

He nodded. "The officers on duty are waiting for you."

Within a few short minutes, the group stood in the frigid cold of the mortuary, huddled around Katsuro's body. The room was a pristine white, sharp scalpels and tools of the trade positioned neatly on clean counter tops. Katsuro lay across a slab of granite, the modesty of his body preserved under a thin linen sheet. Without preamble, Katara slid the sheet off of him. "Chenoa, you take that side. I'll check this side."

Chenoa nodded, leaning over Katsuro with her eyes closed.

Kele and Suki poured over Katsuro's file once more, leaning over the folder to examine the details of the initial autopsy, swapping theories and musing in thoughtful silence over the information before them. Katara closed her own eyes, pulling water from a nearby sink and getting to work. She wound her way through skin and tissue, veins and arteries, feeling her way through his brain, through his heart. No scarring, no contusions. No growths or abnormalities. No signs of damage. Perfect condition. She guided her hands over his lungs, frowning when she found those organs in similar condition. She repeated the process again, and again, and again, each time approaching it with a fresh perspective, a different mindset. Searching for something. Anything.

And there was nothing.

After over an hour, Katara dropped her water-coated hands in frustration, water pouring to the floor. "It makes no sense," she muttered under her breath. She turned to Chenoa, eyes still closed, bare hands pressed against Katsuro's cold abdomen.

Suki walked over to her. "Anything?"

Katara shook her head, a little vein at her temple betraying her frustration. "There's nothing wrong with him that I can see."

"Are we absolutely certain it wasn't the Spirit?" Kele asked cautiously, his hands tucked behind his back. "I mean, he's already proven a willingness to cause harm."

"Have you ever seen a Spirit attack?" Katara replied. "They smash, bite, claw. Destroy. This one was particularly aggressive. If Katsuro had been killed by him, there wouldn't be enough left of him to fill a thimble."

"And anyway, we know it wasn't this Spirit," Suki added. "He said that we're both looking for Katsuro's killer."

Kele crossed his arms, grumbling. "Maybe he was trying to mislead you."

Katara leaned against the counter. "It just makes no sense," she said again, ignoring Kele. She watched as Chenoa chewed her lower lip, hands still pressing and prodding against Katsuro's navel. "Sorry, Chenoa. Are we distracting you?"

Chenoa opened her eyes, pulling her hands away and shaking her head. "No, Master Katara."

"Have you found anything?" Suki asked.

Chenoa shook her head. "I still have to do the liver and pancreas, but everything else is in perfect condition."

"Do you want my help?" Katara asked, already making her way over to the body.

"If you'd like," Chenoa answered politely. "You can do the pancreas while I do the liver. Then, maybe we can switch."

Darkness was incrementally losing its grip by the time they finished their inspection. Suki and Kele were both slumped against the wall of the morgue, Kele fast asleep, Suki battling to keep her eyes open. When Katara finally pulled away, Suki looked up at her. "Anything?" she asked.

Katara shook her head with disappointment. "Nothing."

Chenoa stepped back as well, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. "I'm sorry, Master Katara."

"We've kept you awake for far too long," Katara said, going to the younger girl and rubbing her back with a sympathetic hand. "Let's get you home."

Suki pushed rudely against Kele, his head still slumped back, mouth open. He jumped in surprise. "What is it? Did they find something?"

Suki shook her head.

"What are we going to do now, then?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

Katara shrugged. "Keep going. On to the next thing."

"What's the next thing?"

"Food, first," Suki said as they made their way out of the morgue. "Deadline or no, we need to eat. We can get something for Sokka and Aang."

Kele stepped ahead. "Asuna's restaurant is the only place open this early. What will we do after food?"

Katara raised one brow. "We will go bring it to Sokka and Aang. You will set about organizing our interview with Amka. Assuming your father hasn't done so already."

Kele stiffened. "I have some reservations about that."

"Oh?"

"My cousin just lost her husband," he said, turning down the avenue to Asuna's restaurant. "Subjecting her to an interview- making her relive that experience- is cruel."

Katara straightened her parka and smoothed down her hair. "Were they very much in love?"

"It wasn't about love," Kele grumbled.

"How is marriage not about love?"

"It was an arrangement between two parties-"

"How romantic," Katara muttered under her breath.

"It certainly wasn't ideal for Amka," Kele admitted, "but it will still pain her to speak of her husband's death."

They stepped inside the restaurant, barren at the early hour, and a tired-looking waitress made her way over to them, a frown on her lips. "Kele," the waitress said firmly. "Now's not a good time."

"We're not here for a visit," Kele promised. "Just food."

"Is my aunt alright?" Katara asked, concerned.

The waitress gave Katara a sympathetic look. "She's okay, but this morning isn't going well. I think she'd rather you not see her this way. She's tucked away in her room, in the back. Won't let anyone in." She cast her eyes between the group. "I'll grab you some fry bread to take home." She bustled into the kitchen, lost from view.

Katara crossed her arms over herself. "Has Amka ever looked at my aunt? If her students are as skilled as Chenoa, Amka herself might be able to do something no one else has been able to do with regards to tundra sickness."

Kele blinked in surprise. "No. Katsuro would never have allowed her to do something that... pedestrian. He wouldn't even let her eat at Asuna's restaurant."

"'Pedestrian'," Katara repeated as Suki flashed him a dirty look. Even Chenoa had to hide a scowl from her sweet features.

"His words, not mine," Kele explained quickly. "He let her take on pupils-" he nodded to Chenoa "-but he felt that actual healing of the common folk was beneath her station."

"That's ridiculous. Healing is a tradition for her people. He really refused?"

Kele shrugged, but Katara could see the tense set of his shoulders, and she realized he had stronger feelings on the subject than he let on.

Suki sniffed disdainfully. "He sounds like he was charming."

Before Kele could respond, the waitress shuffled back to them with an armful of wrapped bundles. Katara could feel the warmth rolling off of them. "Thank you for coming in," the waitress said. "I'll let her know you stopped by."

They thanked her, stepping out of the restaurant and making their way back to her father's house. There was a silence between them, a discomfort that no one wanted to address, but as they stepped around the corner, Hakoda's house in sight, Katara sighed. "We need that interview, Kele. Soon."

His shoulders tensed once more, but he nodded curtly. "It's still early. It may take a couple of hours to organize."

"Make it quick, please," Suki said. "We don't have time to waste."

He nodded again, stepping away from them, but he paused. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. "May I... I'd like to be present. For the interview."

Katara and Suki eyed each other, an unspoken understanding passing between them. "That's fine. If Amka wants you there. But, you'll be there for emotional support, not as the interviewee. If you can't keep quiet, you'll be asked to leave," Suki said firmly.

Kele bowed in thanks, a minute bend at the waist. Then he turned away, wind ruffling the white fur that lined the bottom of his parka, and continued down the street.


Sokka was awake, hands wrapped around a mug of tea, when Katara and Suki arrived home.

"You didn't sleep at all, did you?" Katara accused him.

He shook his head bashfully. "I can't."

Suki sighed. "I hope you don't regret that, later."

"Me, too. Did you have any luck at the morgue?"

Katara sank into one of the empty chairs. "None whatsoever."

The room fell into silence, each of them staring at their hands or the table top, or anything that didn't force them to face the harsh reality of their circumstances.

Katara started when she felt her brother's hand, still warm from his tea, cover hers. "We'll get him back, Katara," Sokka muttered fervently. "We will."


A/N: read and review please!! Loving seeing your thoughts and theories as the story unfolds!