Author's note: This chapter and many of the upcoming chapters will start with a flashback, and then return to the present day Kataang story. The flashbacks string together across the chapters to form their own storyline and are always in italics.


Chapter 4

Ten years ago

The boy dashed down the narrow alleyway, dodging piles of refuse and ignoring the debris shredding his feet through the tattered soles of his shoes. Jeering shouts and pounding feet chased after him.

He darted around a corner, and around another, and then another, his breath coming in panting gasps. Down another alley, through a pair of rusted iron gates. Then he pulled up short.

Instead of another alley like he was expecting, the gates opened onto a courtyard bordered on three sides by the grim, unsmiling walls of tenement buildings.

The gallop of running feet slowed as a knot of six street punks squeezed through the gates. They fanned out before the boy, who stumbled away from them. He backed up until his shoulders hit the wall behind him.

The street punk with the upturned nose who towered over the rest was clearly the leader of the pack. A ragged green shirt—now mostly stained brown—hung from the punk's shoulders, and his knees showed through the holes of his pants. He slowly advanced upon the boy. "Lookee here, we caught'cha, din't we? Like an elephant rat in a trap." He hacked up a loogie and spat on the ground. A menacing grin spread across his face. "You blubber-suckin' water peasant."

All around the boy glittered eyes of green, so different from his own blue.


Two weeks after the breakup

Thunk thunk thunk

Aang groaned and rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head.

Thunk thunk thunk

He curled up into a ball and jammed the pillow over his ears. The pounding continued, but at least it was muffled now. Far away. Like he was hearing it through a dream. A bad dream. A bad dream that would never end.

Silence.

The knocking had stopped.

Part of him, the part that still felt something, was relieved. But mostly, he didn't care. He drifted. Daylight filtered through the blanket. Voices talking, indistinct. That probably meant something. But he didn't know what.

All he knew was the dull ache in his chest.

Then an explosion shook his room.

Aang sat up. The blanket slipped off his head. He blinked in the thin, gray light. Is it morning? he wondered without much interest. He squinted at the shreds of wood scattered across his bed.

Huh. Splinters. He plucked at the wooden shards. Why are there splinters on the blanket?

A hand grabbed him by the robes and shook him like he was a rag doll. "Get up, Twinkletoes," a stern voice commanded. "Stop moping around. You're the Avatar, and you've got a job to do."

He raised his head to find a girl in a cream-colored tunic and green robes standing over him. Milk-white irises behind a fringe of black hair glared at him without actually seeing him. "Toph?"

"Ugh. You smell like you've been marinating in your own sweat." Toph turned and addressed someone behind her. "Don't tell me you've been letting him stew in his room for the last two weeks."

"What was I supposed to do?" Sokka. Aang could hear him shrug as he spoke. "He wouldn't come out."

"You could have made him come out."

"Really? The Avatar?" Sokka snorted. "At least you're an earthbender. I've got nothin'."

Toph didn't say anything. She was probably staring Sokka down, blindness notwithstanding. Aang couldn't tell, though, since her back was turned to him. But it didn't matter. He didn't care. At least they had stopped talking. He was glad about that. The talking was a little annoying. Maybe they would leave him alone now.

"What?" Sokka finally said. He sounded defensive. "I made sure he had food and water every day. I left it outside his door."

"Are you serious? You couldn't just talk to him? Sokka, you're his friend."

"I'm his friend, but he wouldn't talk to me. Besides, I can't bust his door open like you just did. Which is why I asked you to come in the first place."

"You dragged me away from my metalbending school because Aang wouldn't open the door?"

"No." A pause. "Well, sort of."

Toph cursed under her breath.

"Hey. You're his friend, too, you know?" Sokka said. Then, in a softer tone, he added, "Aang needs his friends right now. He needs every one he can get."

Aang's eyelids began to droop. All this talking was making him tired. He slumped back onto the bed. Time to go back to sleep.

"Whoa there," Toph said, making a grab for him before he could lay all the way down. Her hand caught the back of his head, and she pulled him by the arm until he was sitting upright again. "Huh. Feels like your hair is growing out," she said, running her hand over the stubble on the back of his head.

Then she hauled Aang to his feet. "Come on, Twinkletoes. Let's get you cleaned up."

Aang let Toph drag him to the doorway—what was left of it, anyway. She had blown the door off its hinges. Pieces of splintered wood lay scattered across the room. The wall now sported a ragged opening where the door used to be, and the slab of rock that had been Toph's battering ram jutted through shattered floor tiles. Jagged pieces of wood and tile dug into his bare feet, but the pain barely pierced through the numbness inside of him.

Sokka yelped as Toph grabbed his arm instead of slipping past him. "Yeah, you're coming, too," she said.

"What? Why me?" he protested as she pulled him down the hall along with Aang.

"He needs someone to shave his head if he's going to be presentable."

"Why can't you do it?"

"You're really trusting a blind girl with a razor?"

"Oh, right. You have a point."

Toph deposited the two boys in the bathroom and muttered something about "doing all the work around here" before stalking away. Sokka guided Aang to a chair in front of a mirror. Aang leaned forward with his arms propped on his knees, staring at the corner of the sink as the older boy lathered up the two-week growth of hair on his head and stubble on his chin.

"Oops, missed a spot," Sokka said, talking to himself as he massaged the soap into Aang's hair. "There we go. Gotta get it all covered. Gotta get every hair. Katara will kill me if I let you go out with a patchy shave."

Katara. Her name jolted Aang out of his stupor. For a moment, he remembered her blue eyes smiling up at him. He remembered that he'd once held his whole world in his arms. Then the hollow ache inside of him returned. His heart was once again as empty as her bedroom across the hall.

"Katara isn't coming back," Aang said woodenly, interrupting Sokka's chatter.

"What do you mean? Of course she's coming back," Sokka said with a nervous laugh. "It's not like she left forever. You know how Katara is. She can be hot-headed sometimes. She just needs some space to think things over. Cool off. She'll be back. I guarantee it."

I need some space, she had said to Aang, her voice sounding muffled and flat through her bedroom door. The door she had locked to keep him out.

"Katara's not coming back, Sokka. She left. She left for good."

Sokka snatched up the razor and started to shave back from Aang's forehead, his wrist flicking the blade in short, rapid strokes. "Uh, right. Well, I'm her brother. I've known her all her life. She'll be back. I know she will."

Even through the haze of his dulled senses, Aang could tell that Sokka sounded a little too sure of himself. Maybe even a little smug.

"What makes you say that?" Aang asked.

The other boy shrugged. "I don't know. Just a brother's intuition."

Suspicion bubbled up through Aang's muddled mind. He may be heartsick, he wasn't stupid. "Sokka. What did you do?"

Sokka scraped the razor—scritch scritch scritch—over the hair by Aang's temple before answering. "I may or may not have sent her a letter."

Aang groaned. "What did you say in the letter?"

"Not much. Just that you're not eating or drinking and you're wasting away like a starving saber-tooth moose lion."

"Sokka."

Scritch scritch scritch

"She'll be so worried about you."

"Sokka."

Scritch scritch scritch

"There's no way she's not coming back after reading—"

"SOKKA!" Aang shouted, his voice ringing against the walls.

The scritching stopped. The hand holding the razor froze.

"She's not coming back, Sokka," Aang said, more calmly this time.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do." Aang's burst of anger flared out as quickly as it had come. He was tired again. "You didn't see her that day. The day she left. You didn't hear what she said to me."

Sokka let the hand holding the razor drop to his side. "What did she say?"

"She wished she'd never fallen in love with me. She said it would've been better if we had just stayed friends."

Sokka set the razor down on the edge of the sink. He pulled up a chair next to Aang and dropped into it with a sigh.

"Look, I don't know what's going on between you and Katara. All I know is that I've been around the two of you ever since we found you in the iceberg. I've seen how you act around each other." He grimaced. "Even when I didn't want to."

Aang didn't respond. He heard the words coming out of Sokka's mouth, but they didn't have anything to do with him. Sokka was talking about two people who no longer existed.

"What you and Katara have is really special. I care a lot about Suki, but we don't have what the two of you have. I can't think of anyone who does."

What we had was special, Aang wanted to say. But we don't have it anymore. It's gone. It's been gone for a long time.

"And something like that doesn't just go away," Sokka said quietly.

Something like that doesn't just go away…

Aang was back on the docks of Hai Bian, standing before Katara.

"If we had just stayed friends, this wouldn't be so hard!" she shouted as tears streamed down her face.

Could it be true? Did Katara still love him?

But if she still loved him, why was she leaving?

Then Katara was saying goodbye. Walking onto the ship, with the pack containing her belongings slung over her shoulder. She didn't look back.

Aang stared into the mirror of the bathroom in the house in Ba Sing Se. Dull gray eyes gazed back at him. The lather covering his head had started to drip down the side of his face. Part of his blue arrow showed through the uneven spots where Sokka had scraped away his hair. His head was a sad patchwork of soap foam, scalp, and stubble.

"Even the brightest flame dies out someday," he said to Sokka.

The other boy tilted his head to one side. "Is that something the monks used to say?"

"No. I'm speaking from experience."


Three months after the breakup

"Breathe in," Aang said.

He inhaled, the crisp winter air filling first his nose and then his lungs, a cleansing breath that chased away—if only for a moment—the thoughts that had plagued him for the last several months.

"Breathe out."

As he blew the air out through his mouth, he was joined by a chorus of exhales from the Air Acolytes seated before him. He took comfort in meditating with the Air Acolytes, surrounded by the rhythm of their breath. It helped him feel less alone.

Aang didn't start meditating again until sometime after Toph dragged him out of his room and forced him to face the world as the Avatar. At first, she and Sokka went with him to every conference, flanking him like guards against nosy officials and fending off uncomfortable questions about Katara. Aang was also well aware that his friends were making sure he didn't slink back into his room to wallow in his misery.

Toph left Ba Sing Se once Aang proved that he was capable of feeding and dressing himself without slipping into a funk. Now that Aang was functioning again, Sokka was more than happy to get back to poring over designs for new inventions with Earth Kingdom engineers. Without his friends constantly hovering over him, Aang suddenly found himself with a lot more time on his hands. Alone.

When Aang was by himself, he remembered Katara. Giggling into his neck, their tickling contest merely an excuse to get tangled up in each other. Listening patiently, his partner in diplomacy, while he talked through thorny political problems. Her fingers stealing into his palm, somehow always able to sense when he was nervous or overwhelmed. Kissing him to wish him a happy birthday as they enjoyed the feast she had prepared for him and their friends. This year, his birthday had been a quiet celebration with Sokka and Toph. No one mentioned Katara.

He found himself straining to hear her footsteps. His eyes hungrily latched onto every glimpse of blue. Then he would remember that she was gone.

And she wasn't coming back.

When he started to spiral into despair, he would meditate. Try to, anyway. But closing his eyes no longer brought him the peace that it used to. The guilt that he'd been able to put out of his mind, a muted whisper that he had been able to ignore, now roared through him like a ravenous dragon.

Aang thought he had moved on, left his shame in the past. But an innocent question from an Air Acolyte over the summer had caught him off guard.

"Have you ever let go of someone you love, Avatar Aang?"

That question had sent him back to the time he awoke on a captured Fire Nation ship, his shame as fresh and raw as the wound on his back. He hadn't meant to give an answer to the Acolyte. Yet he had—with his eyes. He had glanced at Katara. The moment she met his gaze, he could tell that she saw something there. Something she didn't need to see. Something better left in the past.

His guilt, his failure, which stayed with him like the scar on his back.

But she wouldn't leave it alone.

"What does it mean to let go of someone you love?" Katara had asked, in front of the war monument with the crystals and flames—the symbols of his failure in the crystal catacombs.

Aang had tried to explain. He had tried to tell her what he had done, what he had put off until he was left with no choice but to finally give her up. He had told her as much as he could bring himself to tell.

But he couldn't bring himself to tell her the entire truth. His shame was too great.

Iroh was the only person who knew what had happened. And even then, it was just a version of the truth. As Aang earthbent a passage into Katara's prison three years ago, he had told Iroh his dilemma. That to master the Avatar State, he had to let go of someone he loved, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He hadn't mentioned Katara by name. There had been no need for Iroh to know the details—Aang had only been looking for advice from the old Fire Nation general. And at the time, Aang had no inkling of how devastating the consequences of his decision—to not let go of Katara—were about to become. But even though he had let go of her in the end, he had done so in the worst circumstances possible. And he had paid the price.

Ever since his catastrophic failure in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se, Aang had buried the truth about his decision deep within his heart. A secret he kept safe from judging eyes. A secret he sometimes thought about, when prodded by an unwelcome reminder. The truth about his decision—and its consequences—had wounded his spirit, leaving a scar that was every bit as real as the one on his back.

The scar on his spirit ran deep, entangled with shame. Unhealing. Whenever anyone tried to examine it too closely, he skittered away from the subject like a hermit crab seeking safety in the shadows.

But the few times he did try to talk about his decision, guilt and shame robbed him of his voice. The unhealing wound on his spirit could not be exposed. It could not be seen—by anyone.

Not even Katara. Especially not Katara.

If she knew the truth about his decision, she would blame herself for causing him to abandon his training for the Avatar State. For causing the fall of Ba Sing Se. For causing his death. She would blame herself when the responsibility was his and his alone.

Aang couldn't bear to see Katara do that to herself. He couldn't bear to see the weight of his decision crush her spirit. Because seeing that knowledge destroy her would destroy him, too.

Even so, ever since the fall of Ba Sing Se, he had told her more than what he could bring himself to tell anyone else.

But though he had tried to answer her question without actually answering her question, she'd seemed to sense that he was holding back.

Maybe that was when it had really started—the beginning of the end. Maybe he had lost her trust that day. And love without trust could not survive.

"Breathe in," Aang said, seeking freedom from his heavy thoughts in the lightness of air.

But his breath failed him. He could not quiet the voice inside, which he thought he'd left behind when Yue's waves washed him ashore on Crescent Island.

You failed, the voice told him.

You failed the Earth Kingdom.

You failed the world.

You failed Katara.

The people harmed and lives lost weighed heavily upon Aang's heart. Fire Nation troops marching into Ba Sing Se, taking what they wanted from the people. Families, torn apart. Pockets of rebellion, stamped out beneath the Fire Lord's ruthless heel.

Aang could have turned the tide of the war back in Ba Sing Se. He could have rooted out Azula's influence and defeated the Dai Li. Ba Sing Se would not have fallen. Azula would not have warned the Fire Lord of the plans for the invasion. With the might of the Earth Kingdom army at his back, Aang would have vanquished the Fire Lord on the Day of Black Sun, bringing the war to a swift conclusion with hardly a fight.

But instead, he had lost to Azula and Zuko in the caves under Ba Sing Se. He had died. Katara had brought him back to life, but the world had still suffered. His friends had suffered.

Katara had suffered.

All because of him.

Aang exhaled into the silence of the meeting hall, his breath shaky.

Katara had been in danger, he reminded himself.

He could have waited, he supposed. He could have let Katara go, forgotten her for a moment or more, and opened the final chakra to unlock the Avatar State.

But he couldn't do it.

He loved her too much. He couldn't bring himself to let her go.

Because if he didn't save her, she could have been lost forever. If he didn't save her, he would have betrayed her. And he would have betrayed himself.

So Aang had chosen to save Katara over achieving the Avatar State. He'd had no other choice. He had done it to protect her. But in the end, he still had to give her up. And then, she'd been forced to watch him die. The Avatar, the hope of the world—her closest friend—had died in front of her eyes. She'd spent weeks trying to heal him, weeks that often felt hopeless, not knowing if he would ever wake up. But her pain hadn't ended with his awakening. Afterwards, every time she discovered he had been injured, she would relive that dark time in her life. She didn't have to say anything for him to know this. He could see it in her eyes.

Aang had left the guru and the Avatar State to protect Katara, but he had ended up hurting her anyway.

All because he hadn't been powerful enough.

Everyone had depended on him, and he had failed them.

He had failed Katara.

And for that, he could not forgive himself.

"Breathe in," he said. He barely noticed the uncoordinated pattern of inhales from the Air Acolytes.

What was more, he had hurt Katara again. Driven her away. First on Ember Island, and then, a few short months ago, for good.

Aang loved Katara too much. He loved her with the love of his lost people, a love that was reborn in his love for her. But it had been too much for her. It was a love she couldn't return. It was a love that had overwhelmed her.

And so she had left.

The past haunted Aang. He had to let it go, somehow. Let go of his choice at the Eastern Air Temple. Let go of the catacombs of Ba Sing Se.

Let go of Katara.

Even though Aang had let go of their relationship on the docks of Hai Bian, he still loved her. But he had to find a way to let go of her completely. Because now, she was just another part of the past.

Her eyes, gazing at him with wonder as he rose above the crystals beneath Ba Sing Se.

Aang had thought that burning the symbol of his past would bring him release. He'd hoped that when he had set that wretched strip of cloth on fire and watched it disintegrate into ash, he would be free from his guilt.

Tears, streaming down her face as she clutched his dead body.

But he wasn't free.

Her gasp as she flinched away from him, hand on her mouth, on the theater balcony.

The guilt stayed with him anyway.

Her face, filled with pain, before she turned around and walked onto a ship and out of his life.

"Breathe," he told himself. He couldn't get enough air. "Just breathe."

"Avatar Aang?"

Aang blinked his eyes open.

Several faces stared back at him. Yee-Li, an Acolyte who wore her hair gathered in a tail over her shoulder, peered at him with concern. "You missed a few breath prompts. Is everything okay?"

He gave his head a little shake. "Yeah. I'm fine." But he couldn't banish the guilt weighing down his heart. "You know what? I think that's enough for today. Let's plan to meet again next week."

A teenage boy with a mop of dark hair in the second row raised his hand. "Um, Avatar Aang?"

"Yes, Jian. What's on your mind?" Jian was one of three boys who had joined the ranks of the Air Acolytes in Ba Sing Se, and he diligently attended every meeting and every meditation.

"The Air Nomads were…nomads, right? Didn't they travel a lot?"

"You're right. We traveled all the time."

"I know you have a lot of duties as the Avatar," Jian said. "But I was thinking, since we're learning to carry on the practices of your people…would it be all right if some of us joined you in your travels?"

Aang clapped his hands together. "That's a great idea! I can't bring everyone with me all at once, though. We could do a rotation, with maybe three people at a time."

As Aang made plans to travel together with the Air Acolytes, a new excitement began to build within his heart. Flying on Appa with Sokka had been awkward and uncomfortable, with both of them trying to pretend that it had been just the two of them all along. Whenever there had been a lull in conversation—and there had been many—Aang allowed himself to sob quietly into the wind. After a while, he stopped crying. But his heart still ached, since everything about flying—even the clouds themselves—reminded him of Katara.

But now he would have new companions. His people may be gone, but they lived on in him and the Air Acolytes.


Four months after the breakup

After Appa landed outside their house in Ba Sing Se, Aang and Sokka helped the Air Acolytes down from the sky bison's saddle.

"Thank you for taking us with you on your diplomatic mission to Yu Dao, Avatar Aang," said Hei-Won. She and the other two Acolytes, Jian and Yee-Li, bowed before Aang in gratitude.

"It was my pleasure," he said, returning the bow. "Thank you for coming with me."

"Now that we're home, I could use something to eat," Sokka said, stretching his arms over his head. "I heard there's a new beef noodle place on Siao Chi Street. Oh yeah, they have tofu noodle soup, too. Wanna go check it out?"

"Sure, I'd love to." Aang turned and beckoned to the Air Acolytes. "If you don't have plans for the evening, come and join us! This would be a great time to relax and talk about the trip."

Aang had been traveling with the Air Acolytes for only a month—with a different set of Acolytes each time—but what had started out as a welcome change of pace was beginning to settle into a comfortable routine. Spending time with people who loved his culture and eagerly drank in his stories about his friends and family made Aang's heart soar with joy. It didn't hurt that spending his time and energy teaching the Acolytes helped take his mind off of Katara, too. Even though, deep down, he wished she was there with him as well.

"Of course! We would love to come!" said Hei-Won, her short braid bobbing as she nodded her head.

"But isn't Siao Chi Street on the other side of the city?" Jian pointed out.

"That's no problem when you've got a flying bison," Sokka said, slapping Appa's flank. "Everyone back in the saddle!"

But before Aang could do more than hoist Yee-Li up onto Appa's leg, a courier riding an ostrich horse thundered down the road toward them and skidded to a stop in front of Aang.

"Urgent message for the Avatar," the courier said, thrusting a scroll into Aang's hand. "Apologies that it didn't arrive sooner. Storms on the coast delayed the hawk that was carrying the message."

After the courier galloped away, Sokka sidled up next to Aang. "Hey, isn't that Zuko's imperial seal?"

Aang ran a finger over the raised edges of the flame insignia stamped into the hardened wax. "I think it is."

Then he broke the seal and unfurled the scroll. "'Dear Avatar Aang,'" he said, reading aloud. "'May this message find you well. I, Fire Lord Zuko, request your assistance in an urgent and delicate matter.'"

"He doesn't need to sound so stiff," Sokka complained. "We're his friends. This Fire Lord business has really gone to his head."

Aang shrugged. "I'm sure he didn't write this himself. It must have been one of the scribes."

"If you say so," Sokka said, waving his hand dismissively. "Anyway, what's the big emergency?"

"'A dispute over the control of trade routes has arisen between the Fire Nation and the other nations of the world,'" Aang said, continuing to read. "'The trade routes in question span territories that the Fire Nation has invaded in the past, so discussions surrounding this problem are like a powder keg waiting to explode. A trade conference addressing these issues will be held on the eighteenth day of the first month.'"

"The eighteenth day of the first month? That's only four days from now," Hei-Won noted.

"'I request your presence at the trade conference to facilitate negotiations regarding this sensitive matter,'" Aang continued. "'My minister of commerce will attend in my stead, because I am not certain my presence would be welcomed in—'"

Aang stopped reading. Not because the message had ended, but because his mouth had gone dry.

His heart thudded in his chest. Four characters in bold black ink stared back at him from the parchment.

"Well?" Sokka said, nudging Aang with his elbow. "What does the rest of it say? Where's this big, important meeting?"

Aang swallowed, but his voice still came out thick. "It's in the Southern Water Tribe."


Author's note: Hi there and thanks for reading! Real life has decided to hit me with a sledgehammer, so I'm going to update with a new chapter every two weeks until things settle down. I have several chapters written already, but I need to stay a few chapters ahead of posting, and once a week is too fast - for now. If I can catch back up with writing, I'll go back to once weekly updates. Yes, yes, I know how this chapter ended, and I'm sorry! ;)