Chapter Three
It took a while for Aang to calm down, but eventually the sobs slowed into hiccups before coming to a stop. When the siblings look down at him, he looked about half asleep. Katara whispered, "Are you tired, Aang?"
He took a deep breath and nodded releasing her and Sokka to rub at his red eyes. "I think I could use some sleep, now," he murmured.
Sokka smiled at him a little, though it was obvious he held concern for the boy. "Okay, buddy." He turned to his sister. "Would you be willing to show him his room?"
Katara nodded before gently taking Aang's hand and lifting him to his feet. That zing of electricity arced in her arm again, but she did her best to ignore it as she led the sleepy boy to the guest room. She could hear Sokka clean up the kitchen.
Aang didn't protest when she didn't let his hand go. It was as if he now believed that he was safe with them. She was determined to help him, to become his friend at the very least. He was lost and needed someone he could come to if something was wrong. She really felt like they could be a family. If Aang didn't find his parents, she would remind him every day that he wasn't alone.
When the reached the end of the hall where the room was located, she led him in. Aang rubbed at his eyes again, looking ready to fall out again. Katara placed him on a chair and said, "Stay here, I'm going to find something for you to change into."
Before he could respond, she was out of the door, heading to Sokka's room. It was messy, but she managed to find a pair of gray sweats and a white t-shirt in his dresser. She was sure that he wouldn't mind in the least.
When Katara went back into the room, she saw that Aang's eyes were beginning to close, but he opened them wider when he saw the clothes. She murmured, "I know these are a little big, but the pants have a string you can tighten up. Are you okay with this?"
He cleared his throat and blushed, looking away. "Uh, yeah, yeah it's fine." His voice sounded a little hoarser than before. He seemed on the verge of collapse.
"Are you sure, Aang?" she asked, concerned about his behavior. "I can find you something else."
He looked up at her with a little smile. "No, really. That's okay; I like sweats."
Sighing a little, mostly in relief, she handed the clothes over. "There's a bathroom through that door." She pointed to the right side of the room, showing a door that was opened into it. " You can shower if you like. All extra toiletries are in the tall cabinet on the left side of the mirror. I want you to try to rest after you've changed. Call if you need anything."
She was almost out the door when his voice called her name. "Katara?"
The girl turned back to look at him. "Yes?"
Aang took a deep breath, closing his eyes, before looking back up at her with tears in his silver gaze. "Thank you," he whispered.
She smiled. "You're welcome. I'll see you later."
He nodded and she closed the door behind her, wondering why her heart soared at the sound of his voice, why his simple thank you was enough to send a flutter to her stomach. There was something sad and broken inside that boy. But at the same time, she could see someone who had gone through so much and yet showed a sliver of gratefulness that shined brighter than any star.
Now, more than ever, Katara wanted to find out what she could do to bring out that glimmer more often. She wanted to make Aang happy.
After Katara had left, Aang was in a hurry, wanting to get out of these disgusting clothes that he has been wearing for days on end. Sure, he had bathed when he could, but it was hard trying to find some place private enough to bathe. He wiped his eyes and stood up, quickly walking into the restroom and closing the softly behind him.
His silver eyes took in simple but beautiful washroom. It was designed to look like a beach, with a sun in the indigo sky as it set, waves lapping at the sands. It put him at ease a bit, since beaches were one of his favorite places, though more often than not, he preferred seeing it at sunrise. There was nothing more hopeful than a dawn at the edge of the world.
Taking a deep breath, he looked into a mirror for the first time in months.
And nearly gagged at what he saw.
He was so pale the blue veins could be seen. The bags under his eyes were dark, making his gaze look heavier than it should. Cheeks hollow from lack of sustenance. Even his light brown hair was tangled and dirt-logged. That was only his head, which was bad enough. He could feel the ribs poking against his skin, but he didn't think it was this bad. Aang felt sick, looking at his emaciated body, and he had to look away after noticing how loose his clothes hung off his frame. All he had seen was something ugly, like trash.
Shakily, he wandered to the tub, where he sat, leaning against it, as he tried to calm his breathing. How can Sokka and Katara take him in like this? If the mistress saw him, she would kill him for looking like a street kid.
He laughed hollowly. That was all he was right then, a street kid leaching off the kindness of others. Aang had no right to be here, he knew that, but damn it, for once he wished someone else would take care of him, even for a little while. Now that he was presented with that wish, he wasn't sure he wanted to take it. It seemed to good to be true.
Wiping his streaming eyes, he turned the nob on for the shower and got the water going, adjusting until it slightly steamy but not too hot. On shaky legs he stood and went to cabinet that Katara told him about, finding everything he needed. After everything was set by the shower, he slowly removed the clothes, feeling exposed though he was only one in there. He quickly went into the shower and closed the curtain. The rush of hot water on his skin made him tense a little, since the last time he had showered had been a couple weeks ago, but eventually his tender skin grew accustomed to the temperature. Aang took a deep breath, relaxing for the first time in days.
He didn't know how long he stayed under the spray, but after a while, he started washing up, starting with his rats nest of hair. The smell of sandalwood drifted into his nose. He found out he liked the scent very much. After his hair was rinsed out, he took a new washcloth, added some vanilla scented body wash, and lathered his body in a foam that was pleasing as well as calming.
His mother used to smell like vanilla, whenever she made house-baked cookies. It reminded him of happier times, and though it made him sad to think about her, it also made Aang feel closer to her than before. Once the suds were rinsed off, Aang turned off the water, reached a hand out, and grabbed the towel he had placed on the toilet before wrapping it around himself.
Though slightly cool now with the water off, he had to admit that he was starting to feel better. Aang refused to look at himself again as he left the room. The cooler bedroom made him shiver, but that was manageable. Since running away, he had gotten used to sleeping in cold places, and this house was warmer than the streets.
Aang was about to dress when he realized something embarrassing: he didn't have a clean pair of boxers. Groaning, he thought about what to do. He could always wear clothes without them, but it made him uncomfortable, in more ways than one. He didn't want anyone to know about his silent fear about someone stripping him. It wouldn't do.
Sitting on the bed, the only thing that came to mind was to either borrow a pair of Sokka's (which made him shudder in slight horror), or he could ask Katara to wash his. The thought made him blush, but at least it would be his boxers that would fit better. Judging by the clothes, they would hang off of his thin frame as it was.
Katara it was then. Taking a deep intake of breath, he walked over the door, slightly opened it, and called, "Uh, Katara?"
The sound of footsteps were immediate, which made him wonder if she was sitting closer than he had thought. Her beautiful face came into his field of vision, making his heart stutter before pounding away at his rib cage like a trapped animal. Aang wanted to slow it down, but as long as he remained hidden, there was no way she would notice. Right?
She smiled at him, though her eyes were full concern. "What do you need?"
Aang cleared his throat. "I, uh..." He looked down and, god was his face burning, mumbled, "I don't have a clean pair of...um...boxers."
Katara's look of concern faded to one of amusement, which only made his face worse. "Do you need a new pair?" she asked.
He sighed heavily. "I was wondering if you could wash mine, along with my other clothes. They could use a good washing." Feeling red as a damn tomato, Aang wanted to bash his head against something hard. Would a doorjamb be enough to cause amnesia?
She chuckled, smiling. "Sure, Aang. Let me grab your pack and-"
"No!" he said a little forcefully. She looked shocked and maybe a little hurt, and now he really wanted to bash his head in. He coughed awkwardly. "I meant, I can get it. Just wait there." He looked down, feeling shame. This girl only wanted to help him and already he was making her regret this choice. He just knew it.
Sighing, he mumbled, "Sorry," before closing the door until it was ajar. Locating his backpack, he opened it up and grabbed the few changes of clothes he had with him, including the boxers. When everything was collected into a plastic bag from his stock, Aang was about to move away when something caught his eye. Looking down, he saw the one piece of his father he had left. Vowing to come back to it, he went to the door, opened it, and gave Katara the laundry.
He said, "Sorry about earlier. I just..." Not knowing what to say, his voice trailed off, hoping she would under how hard this was for him.
The hurt he had seen was gone from her gaze as she took the bag. She smiled gently, making his stomach feel funny. "Don't worry, Aang. It's okay." Nodding at the bag, she added, "I'll have these done in about forty-five minutes. Think you can wait that long?"
He nodded. "Yeah, thank you."
Katara nodded. "No problem. I'll be back." She moved away before he could say anything else.
Closing the door all the way, Aang went back to his pack and knelt, towel still wrapped around him like a shield. Reaching in, he brought out an old turquoise bracelet. Interspersed are Japanese letters, five in all. He had memorized the meaning of each one years ago. His father had made it for him before Aang's fourteenth birthday. In order, the scripts said: live, love, heart, strength, light.
To him, his father had said, was to live life, love with everything, lead with your heart, and find strength in the light.
Tears pricked his eyes when he remembered that day, when his father had presented this to him, saying that no matter where they were or how lost you feel, home will always follow. He brought the turquoise to his chest and thought about home, where his parents are, and really hoped they were here in the city. Aang had come so far already, but he knew finding them was going to take time. Patience was the key.
Putting the bracelet on, he felt a smile tug at his lips, even though tears stilled leaked out from his lids. Fingering the beads that held so much meaning, he whispered, "I'll find you, Dad. I promise you and Mom that we'll be together again." He swallowed heavily. "I love you both."
He hugged the bracelet...and wept.
