Chapter Fourteen
Back in San Francisco, Sokka was just pulling into the lot of their house. When they parked, Aang could see the police cruiser in the normally empty space. The butterflies that had started almost as soon as they had left Suki's place were going crazy in his stomach. He wasn't sure why he was nervous. Katara had reassured him on the drive that the man was very sensible and smart. He would hear out Aang's story about why he was there and would be willing to help him.
Aang wasn't sure about that. Right at the moment, he was nothing but a former prostitute on the run from a psychotic woman who he hated and feared. If someone like the chief of police found that out, the truth, it was unlikely anyone would want to help him. Unintentional or not, he had killed someone, and the penalty for that was jail since he was over sixteen.
He would never forget holding that girl in his arms as she died. Violet had been so young to have her life stolen the way it had. How were her parents? Did they even realize their daughter was dead or had been kidnapped? Aang would never know, but he hoped that when they found it out, they would cherish her memory. At least she hadn't lost her virginity before she passed. That was something to be thankful for.
Sokka pulled him out of his thoughts by turning around in his seat. "Are you ready for this, Aang?"
Knowing what his friend meant, Aang wanted to say no, that he was nowhere near ready. He had the feeling Sokka knew that. But if he was going to get over his demons, this was on of the ways to do it. Taking a a steadying breath, he nodded and opened his door. The others followed his lead. The heat of the night was soothed by the cooling effect of the A/C, its hum low. Aang relaxed his shoulders a little. Somehow, he was beginning to think of this place as home.
When the three of them entered the living room, a man was waiting. On the coffee table were a couple of folders, which the man was studying. From his dark brown hair and blue eyes, he looked like an older version of Sokka with a small beard.
"What do you have there, Dad?" Sokka asked.
Mr. Rivers looked up, and though he smiled at the, Aang could tell that he was exhausted. His shoulders were slumped and weariness was all over his face. He said, "Work stuff, son. I'll tell you about it later." He closed the files and stood up, hand extending towards Aang. "I'm Hakoda Rivers. How are you doing, Aang?"
Aang stared at the hand, feeling some of his suspicions rise. It sounded stupid, but he couldn't bring himself to touch the man. While in that hell, a lot of men had come into his chambers. They only wanted one thing from him and they did everything they could to hurt him while doing it.
'This is Katara's and Sokka's dad,' his mind whispered in protest. 'He wouldn't do that to me. He's a police officer!'
'Yeah, well, so was the last one to take you,' the darker part of him said back.
Fear propelled him back a few steps, face draining of blood so fast it made his head dizzy.
Katara caught him, and it was then he realized he had been about to fall. "Aang, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly. Holding his body close, she pushed the hair out of his eyes. "You look sick."
Heart pounding in adrenaline, the only thing going through his mind was 'Run, run away!' And for once, Katara wasn't enough to stop his flight instinct. Aang pulled away from her, though his soul screamed when he did, but the urge to survive was stronger.
Sokka seemed to understand what was happening because he raised his hand at his father to back off. The man did, looking startled by the reaction Aang was giving in his presence. A small part of him was thankful to his friend for trying to help. Staying in the room seemed like a challenge, but when Hakoda backed away, a fraction of his fear melted away.
Katara approached him again, hands raised a little to show she meant no harm. She seemed to get what was going on now. Her beautiful eyes were sad. "Aang, it's alright," she said softly. "Dad isn't to going to do anything to you. He wants to help protect you, too."
He wanted to believe her, he really did, but he couldn't stop the suspicion that the man was like all the others who had hurt Aang before. He shook his head at Katara. "They hurt me," he murmured unable her meet her gaze anymore.
"Who did?" she asked quietly.
Aang glanced at Hakoda as he whispered, "People like him."
Katara looked at her father, hands lowering, as it seemed to dawn on her what he meant. She looked at him once more. "You mean law enforcement?" she asked.
Aang could understand her confusion. Law enforcement of any kind was supposed to protect others, as it was an oath they swore to uphold. But he had learned the hard way that a good number of them were fronts to get away with the crime. People wouldn't suspect anything was amiss when a police officer or investigator said there was nothing they could do for the lost person.
He nodded, answering her question silently as he shook. Some of them...were monsters. A couple had thought strangling him while they took their pleasure was amusing. His butt throbbed just thinking about it, as well as his throat. Aang felt like he couldn't breathe. Remembering the hands that gripped his throat too tightly.
He couldn't really see their faces, but he could feel the disgust and shame emanating from the family, but oddly...it wasn't directed at him, like he feared. After a while, it was Hakoda who spoke. "That's madness," he muttered. Aang looked at the man. A hard blue gaze met his terrified grays. "I knew not all officers were nice, but to think they would hurt someone so young..." He took a step forward.
And that was when Hell broke loose. Aang screamed, "No, stop!" He scrambled backwards, and his side caught the corner of a glass side table, which was sharper than it looked. It tore a hole in his shirt and raked his side, the bruise getting a cut that wept blood. The lamp fell from the movement of the table. The glass broke on the wooden floor outside the rug.
Crying out as hot pain burned him, Aang fell to the floor, grasping his side and grimacing. Tears blurred his vision as he dropped his art supplies. Katara screamed, "AANG!" as she rushed to his side. Through the haze, he could tell she was crying.
He tried to speak, to tell her not to weep, but the pain in his side ran up the bruise and made his ribs throb. Instead, he whimpered, "Fucking shit."
Katara took a deep breath to steady herself and hastily wiped at her eyes. "Damn it," she muttered. The words were almost funny, since it was the first time she had said them in his presence, but the pain made it hard to laugh. She looked at the men in the group. "I'm going to take him to the hospital."
The thought almost made him fly out the house. "No, no hospitals," he grated out.
She stared at him sternly, despite her red eyes. "You're in pain, Aang. Do not argue with me!" Her voice was like a mother's, hard with worry and determination.
He looked at her pleadingly. "Please," he whispered through clenched teeth. "She can't find me. Katara, she'll kill you. And the others. Can't you help me?" He didn't even care if the others heard him, the pain was almost stopping his mind.
Aang didn't need to explain what he meant. He could tell from her eyes. The Mistress could not find him, and being in a hospital was a guaranteed way of discovering where he was hiding. She sighed in defeat and said, "I'll do what I can," before grabbing his free arm and pulling it across her shoulders. Aang felt like his side was on fire, but somehow he managed to his to get feet with her help. Katara said, "Let's go to the restroom, Aang. Everything's going to be fine."
Hakoda looked like he wanted to argue, but Sokka shook his head in warning, and the man stayed quiet, though it was obvious he didn't like it. Aang let Katara steer him down the hall to the bathroom, this one a different theme, completely underwater, with sea-green curtains, sea mammals and creatures jumping and diving in the depths of the ocean wallpaper. Even the sink was shaped like an inside out half-shell embedded in the green, white, and gold marble.
Katara closed the door with her hip and sat him down on the closed toilet seat before going to the bottom drawer nearest him. She began drawing out gauze, peroxide, cotton balls, a large Band-Aid, and tape. She looked at him apologetically. "I'm afraid you're going to have to take off your shirt."
He stared at her through the pain. It hadn't even occurred to him that he should do that, but now he realized that there was no choice. Still, he didn't want her seeing how thin he was, even if she had felt it under his shirt. "I-I don't think I can, Katara," he murmured, looking away.
She set everything down before kneeling in front of him. Her warm hands sent tingles on his face as she grabbed his cheeks, gently turning his wet eyes to her, and his heart thundered at the compassion in her gaze. Katara said, "It's okay to be scared, Aang. I understand that this isn't easy, especially after what that woman did. But I need you to trust me. I know what I'm doing. I want to be a healer as a side job." Her thumb wiped away a tear, her smile gentle. "Don't be afraid of me."
Aang swallowed, and came to a decision. If he couldn't trust Katara, then who could he trust besides Suki?
Slowly, he nodded, and let go of his side. Taking the shirt off was harder than he thought possible. He couldn't lift his arm up high enough and grip the hem without pulling at his wounded side. Katara seemed to understand his struggle because she asked him silently to push his arms out in front. Once he had, she reached over, grabbed the back hem, and pulled gently over him.
Aang winced the entire time until the shirt was gone. After his arms were lowered, one resting on the counter, Katara took a peak at the messed up side, and her eyes widened in fear and sadness. "Oh, Aang," she murmured. "What-what happened to you?"
He swallowed back the bile rising in his throat before replying. "The Mistress's thugs." He didn't tell why he had gotten them in the first place. He couldn't admit that he was a murderer, no matter who had forced his hand. Aang was guilty of it, since he could have fought harder to stop that gun, but he had been unable to.
The bruise was starting to turn a sickly green and yellow color, which began at the upper part of his ribs and extending to his hip. Other bruises over his torso were already yellow and fading but that one was the largest. The ribs were bruised, he knew, but he didn't want the Mistress to find his location. The hospital was out of the question.
Katara gently touched the large mark. When Aang winced, she hummed. "Ribs are definitely bruised." She looked up at him with a frown. "You said you were on the streets for a couple of weeks?"
Aang nodded, breathing slowly. "Yeah. After escaping from the brothel, I trekked across the country. It had taken a while to reach the city, but I couldn't go home. The Mistress would probably look for me there when she found out I had escaped. What money I had, I used for the bus to get here. I-I had to steal to survive, Katara. Sure it was mostly fruit, but I still feel kind of guilty."
Pausing, he had to stop to order his thoughts. Katara said, "Aang, don't worry about it. You had to do what you could to survive. I can't fault you for the things you had done, and I am not going to reprimand your choices." She gathered the cotton and peroxide, checking out the cut. "The cut's shallow, so it won't require stitches, but I think it's best to wrap your torso so the ribs can start healing properly."
It was going to hurt, but he agreed, and Katara got to work. At the first touch of peroxide, Aang nearly screamed at the burn. The cut was shallow, but it stung like a bitch slap. Gritting his teeth, he did his best to hold still as she dabbed at the bloody cut, slowing the flow, before putting the Ace bandage on it. It covered the whole wound, nice and snug.
"Okay," she said, "now the ribs." She helped him raise his arms again. Starting at the bottom, she wound the gauze upward, making certain the strong tape was secure. She wrapped the cloth on the opposite shoulder, went down once more, then taped it underneath his other arm. The whole process was a little painful, but when finished, the relief was almost immediate. He exhaled slowly, swallowed, and opened his eyes.
His lips went dry. When had she gotten so close to his face? She was holding her hand to the finished wrapping. Her eyes met his, and some kind of current went through his body. The pain vanished as they stared at one another, and he couldn't help but think how nice it would be to kiss her. There was a flush to Katara's cheeks, and she said, "All done. Try not to push yourself too much. Okay?"
Aang nodded, and it seemed as if she was holding her breath, waiting for something to happen, but right then a knock came to the door. They jumped apart, blushing, and he cursed himself silently. He wasn't ready for a relationship. Besides, there was no way she would ever go for someone like him. Katara was beautiful and he was...under average, skinny, and scared. Yes, he knew that last thought was ridiculous, but it was true. If he got together with someone, even someone as nice as Katara, she would want to take the next step sooner or later.
He doubted he ever could.
They must have been too quiet because the knock came again, accompanied by Sokka's voice. "Is everything alright in there?"
Aang cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, everything's fine." But a part of him felt like that was a lie. It was like a moment in time where nothing mattered but him and Katara. It scared him how much he was really beginning to like this girl. If Sokka hadn't jumped in, Aang wasn't sure what would have happened.
Sokka's voice answered back. "Good. I have a new shirt with me, Aang. I got it out of your bag. I hope you don't mind." There was guilt in his voice, like he had done Aang wrong by going through his stuff.
Aang grasped his bracelet, taking comfort in the beads. Maybe he should have been defensive of his personal belongings, but in truth, he didn't mind. With them, he knew they wouldn't steal anything from him, even if he had had something of value. He said, "That's fine, Sokka." Then he surprised himself by adding, "You can come in."
Katara raised her brows at him as the door opened and Sokka came through. Once he saw the bandaging, he winced, closing the door softly behind him. "Bruised ribs?"
Aang nodded. "But I'll be fine." Shame made him lower his head. "I'm really sorry about what happened out there, guys." He met Katara's and Sokka's gazes. "I know, intellectually, that your dad wouldn't do that to me. It's just..." Pausing, Aang was unsure how to put it into words. How could he explain the terrors he had faced against people who were supposed to protect? On instinct, his hand went to his throat, feeling the phantom pain from large hands cutting off his air.
Looking at Sokka, he could tell the other boy had some idea of what had happened before. Katara, too, seemed shocked when her eyes locked on his pale hand. "God," she whispered, closing her eyes as if in prayer. "How could someone be so-so...?"
"Sick?" Sokka finished, coming to sit on the edge of the tub, holding the shirt for Aang to take. Aang took it gratefully, trying to put it on, but the green material refused to cooperate. Sokka gave him a hand, being gentle with his pulling. "That would be a fitting word, at least one of the nicer ones."
Once Aang had the shirt on, he gave a grim smile and a weak chuckle. "Yeah, that's one way of putting it." He twiddled his thumbs, taking a breath to calm his racing heart. "I wasn't the only one there who didn't want to be. The mistress, she didn't take just random people. They had to be exquisite, one of a kind, people who would bring in the most profits." He reached up, touching under one eye as he said, "She...she said that my eyes were unique."
Katara stared at him, making him feel flustered, but the sadness in her gaze seemed to reach somewhere deep inside of himself. Aang wasn't sure what the feeling was, but it was strong, and in that moment he realized that she understood. She understood what being different meant. Her hand went to her feather-beaded bracelet, still snug on her wrist. It made him wonder why she wore it so much.
She said, "Aang, you're a human being and, yes, your eyes are amazing, but that doesn't make you anybody's property."
"She's right!" Sokka claimed. "No one deserves that kind degradation. I wouldn't wish it even on my worst enemies."
Aang looked down, grasping his hands. "I know. I'm not trying to make it sound all about me. It's the others I'm worried about." It had occurred to him before, back when he was on the streets, but now the worry for the others came at him hard. Were they okay? None of them had aided his escape, but that didn't mean the mistress was going to be easy on them. Some of them were just kids, even younger than he had been, and the girls were the easiest ones to take control of.
"I shouldn't have left them," he murmured guiltily, closing his eyes. Aang ran a hand down his face, feeling older than his seventeen years. "They're going to be punished for something I did." Some of them might even be dead.
Sokka grabbed his shoulder and Katara took his hand, making Aang feel some of his guilty burden alleviate. He took a deep breath. "Maybe...maybe someday we can help rescue them," she said. "We're going to find out if your dad is there."
Aang nodded, but a small piece of him still thought his father was dead. However, the hope that had glowed in his chest was growing slightly brighter at the mention of him. If he was alive, they will save him. Speaking of dads...
He looked at Sokka. "Is your dad angry with me?" He disliked the idea someone being mad for his actions, reflective as they were. The last thing Aang wanted was for Mr. Rivers to be annoyed.
Sokka shook his head. "If anything, he feels bad for scaring you."
Aang sighed in exasperation. "Damn it," he muttered, rubbing his hair. There was only one thing left to do. Rubbing his eyes, he held, breathed in deeply, then stood up. The siblings followed his movements. He looked from one to the other as he spoke. "I'm going to try that again."
They exchanged looks. "Are you sure, buddy?" Sokka asked. "Dad understands if you're not ready-"
Aang cut him off, determination fueling his heart. "No, Sokka, I have to do this. The least I can do is apologize." It scared him, but this was a step he had to take to beginning healing. After taking a calming breath, he asked, "Is he in the living room still?"
"No," Sokka said, shaking his head. "But he said that if you wanted to talk, he would be in his room."
The thought made him uncomfortable, but it was too late to back out now. He nodded, and the three left the bathroom. As Sokka led the way, Katara grasped his hand, lending him her strength. That was something he was becoming accustomed to. She was his rock, despite only knowing her for two days, but it was true. She grounded him.
They stopped at the door together, silent. Aang's heart was pounding like crazy. He looked at the two. "You guys can go."
They looked surprised, like they couldn't believe his words. "Aang, we want to be there," she said.
"I know," he said, squeezing her hand. Her fingers were somewhat calloused from making jewelry, but still soft as silk. He didn't want to let go, but he did. "But I can't let this fear rule me. I have to face it. I can't heal unless I start."
Katara and Sokka exchanged looks before he said, "We'll wait out here. You can do this, buddy."
Katara kissed his cheek, smiled, and backed away. A tingling sensation in his face made him suspect he was blushing, but he focused on the task as hand. He knocked on the door before he could talk himself out of this.
Mr. Rivers called, "Come in."
Aang entered.
The room wasn't too big, but there was space. Everything was organized, from the king size bed in the center of the far wall, the knick knacks, cologne, and watches on the mahogany dresser, and a black filing cabinet next to a desk with a laptop. Mr. Rivers sat on the chair, once more looking over some files. Aang was slightly curious as to what they were about, but decided some mysteries were best left alone.
Mr. Rivers turned around in his chair, looking right at him. "How are you doing, son?"
Aang looked around, taking the pictures of family. There were a lot pictures of Hakoda as a younger man with a beautiful woman by his side. She looked a lot like Katara. It must have been her mother, back when she was alive.
Once more he focused on the man in the room, and somehow seeing the pictures of the woman and her family made it easier to see him as person, not as a threat. He cleared his throat. "I'm better, sir."
Hakoda chuckled tiredly, waving his hand. "No need for the formalities, Aang. Hakoda will suffice, or Mr. Rivers is okay too." He leaned on his elbows, linking hands together. He studied the teenager intently. "I'm sorry for scaring you earlier. I only want to help you."
Aang nodded, feeling anxiety start to slip away. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Rivers. The reactions were automatic with me. I've, uh, had a hard couple of years."
Hakoda nodded in understanding. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Sokka said you were looking for your parents. Is that still the case?"
He took a deep breath, thinking his answer through before saying anything. "I was told they were here," he said slowly. "A friend of mine told me my mother was, at least. Suki Fronds?"
The man looked surprised. "I didn't know you two were friends."
Aang smiled, thinking of his sister. "We're more like siblings, actually. We kind of adopted each other after she came to New York. My parents became hers since she doesn't have any."
"Yes," Hakoda said sadly, leaning back. "I know all about her real parents. I had no idea about you, though. She had only mentioned about a boy who had disappeared two years ago."
He thought about that. It must have been painful for Suki to think about him gone. There had been times when he believed that she would help find him. His dad had taught them a little about tracking. But when no one came, that hope had slowly diminished until nothing remained. It must have frustrated her, not knowing how to help.
"Yep, that would be me," he muttered.
Hakoda was silent a for a few moments, then he asked, "If you don't mind my asking, what happened?"
Aang wasn't sure how to respond to that. He wiped his hands on his jeans. "It's...complicated," he mumbled, crossing his arms and looking down.
The man shifted his weight. "Were you kidnapped, Aang?" he asked kindly.
His head jerked up in panic. "I-" He couldn't finish his sentence. Of course if the siblings had figured it out, either one of them could have told their father. The door suddenly seemed like a mile away.
The man sighed in frustration, raking a hand through his hair. "Damn, I did it again," he muttered before looking up again. "Aang, Sokka told me his suspicions, but I don't want you thinking anything bad about it. We only want to keep you safe, I swear."
Aang took a good long look, heart beginning to slow down. The sincere worry in the other's eyes were calming, almost like his daughter's but without the spark he felt with her. And like Sokka, he exuded an inner strength while at the same time smile lines were visible on his face. The man must have smiled a lot, even after his wife's death.
Just like that, the panic was gone. Hakoda was a protector, and Aang was being ridiculous. He sighed, then nodded. "I believe you. Yes, I was kidnapped. But I escaped a couple weeks ago. I was..." Swallowing, he forced the words out of his throat. "I was forced into prostitution." He closed his eyes, wondering if the man would be disgusted by him now, but he pushed on. "I hated it, and because of it, that's why I don't always like being touched."
There was silence for a long time before Hakoda spoke. "Aang, I'm so sorry."
The anguish in his voice was surprising. When Aang looked at him, Hakoda seemed to be struggling with himself, like he wanted to hug the teenager but didn't dare. He continued, "I can't imagine the pain you've gone through. It must have been horrible."
Aang licked his lips, biting the bottom one. "You could say that."
Hakoda sighed, wiping his face. "Do you know who ordered the kidnapping?"
Shaking his head, he said, "No. I only know she's about nineteen years old, and she went by Mistress or Highness. None of the slaves or servants know who she really is."
Hakoda nodded pensively. "Where did she take you?"
"These goons of hers took me to some countryside. It was about a week long drive. There weren't a lot of roads, mostly forests and farmland, as well as a small town." What the hell? He was telling the chief of police details that would put everyone he cared about in danger. Might as well send up a flare. He closed his mouth before any more information chimed out.
Hakoda seemed to understand his struggle because he stood and walked over to him, gazing at the wedding picture of him and his wife. "Do you know what happened to Kya?"
So that was her name. "Sokka told me she died in a hit-and-run when he was eight." Where was he going with this?
Hakoda nodded, grief in his eyes but face blank. "I was off duty that day. This was about a year before I became chief. A criminal was in a car chase with a few cruisers from my unit. Kya was out on her afternoon jog since she worked as an online architect." He chuckled a little. "That woman had serious artistic talent. She was the one who began teaching Katara how to start bead-work." The small smile faded as he continued. "The kids were still in school when it happened. Kya was crossing the street near our house. The car came and rammed into her. She died on impact."
Aang looked at the picture, visualizing the scenario in his mind, and winced. A life snuffed out for no good reason, a life that seemed to be full of joy and love, to be taken in a nanosecond. In an instant, Aang knew how the man must be feeling. Gathering his courage, heart aching, he placed a hand on Hakoda's shoulder. The man looked surprised when his gleaming eyes met Aang's.
He said, "You blame yourself for what happened." It was a statement, not a question.
The man swallowed, wiping his hands wit his fingers. "I was out at the store to get groceries, Aang. If I had been there, she wouldn't be dead. I could have protected her." He choked up, hiding his face his hand.
Squeezing his shoulder, he said, "It happened fast, I'm sure. Even if you had been there, both of you could have gotten hit. Or maybe you might have saved her and died instead. Maybe both of you would have lived." He lowered his hand and Hakoda looked at him as Aang continued. "A lot of possibilities could have happened, Mr. Rivers, but dwelling on the 'what-ifs' won't change anything." He looked down, realizing of his words. It made him realize that he couldn't think that way either. The 'what-ifs' of the past shouldn't take control of the 'what-ifs' of the future.
He had to find his own way.
Hakoda took a steadying breath. "I suppose you have a point, son." He gave a little smile, looking at another framed photo. In it, Katara and Sokka looked maybe six and seven respectively. "When we had the kids, our lives got both difficult and more loving." He touched the frame, as if caressing his family. "I love all of them. Kya would be proud of these two." Aang met his gaze when he looked over. "I'm sure she would have helped you, too."
Aang nodded, choking on his emotions. "She must have been a wonderful woman."
"She was," he murmured. "She's the main reason why worked harder, to help prevent anymore disasters like that one. The kids took her death hard, especially my daughter. Katara is so much like her, it's like I'm watching her duplicate. Kya had a deep sense of community and love. She was a healer, one who knew which herbs worked with which ailment. She did that in her spare time. Even doctors have been baffled by the miracles she made."
"Is that why Katara took up healing?" Aang asked curiously. He remembered just a little bit ago how she had handled his wound and ribs. The pain was all but gone.
"Yes, at least one of the reasons." His proud expression was strong on his face. "Just like her mother, she wants to help others. She studies herbs and medicines, of all kinds, so even when she becomes a jewelry maker, Katara can use her talents to heal."
Aang smiled back, knowing what kind of person Katara is. If her mother was anything like her, it was no wonder she was so protective. "I think she'd make a lot of lives better."
They stayed silent for a long time, and Aang for once didn't feel threatened. If anything, now that the panic was gone, it was peaceful to stand there, looking at the man's past through the photos.
Finally, Hakoda turned to him. "Aang."
He looked at him. "What?"
"I know the thought of that place scares you, but when you're ready to talk about it, maybe shutting it down, I'll be ready to help you."
Aang frowned, thinking of all the other kids trapped in that hellhole. "I want to see it stopped. That woman is dangerous. She can't continue to hurt people." He closed his eyes, her face floating to the surface. And right then, he came to a decision. "I want to get physically and mentally stronger. But I do want to do one thing to at least start the process."
He stared at Aang intently. "How's that?"
Looking Hakoda right in the eyes, he stated, "I have a photographic memory. I can draw what she looks like."
Hakoda smiled gently. "That would help in the long run, but Aang, don't let it be your main focus. There may come a time when you have to face her again. I want you to remember to take care of yourself, to get stronger, like you said. You have to prepare yourself."
Aang knew he was right. If there was a chance to face that monster again, he had to be ready. "I guess so." He yawned, feeling drained. He hadn't realized it before, but he felt so tired after such a day. He was ready to get in some PJ's and call it a night.
Hakoda noticed and placed a hand on Aang's shoulder. He didn't move away. "You should get some sleep. We can talk more another time."
Aang nodded. "Thanks, Mr. Rivers. I honestly thought you wouldn't want me around after learning...what I was."
He shrugged nonchalantly. "You were forced to be something you hated. At least you made it out." He showed the teenager to the door and gave a gentle smile. "Get some rest, son. You've had a long day."
Smiling in gratitude, he opened the door, and left. The siblings were still there, looking tired but alert. They looked up, saw him smiling, and rushed to hug him. He wrapped his arms around the siblings tightly, feeling happy. Katara whispered, "Everything went well, I take it?"
Aang closed his eyes contentedly. "Even better than that."
They stayed in their huddle for a long moment before Sokka said, "Okay, enough mush." They laughed a little before breaking apart and yawning. Sokka stretched his arms up. "I don't know about you two, but I'm exhausted. I swear Summer vacation doesn't last long enough."
It was then Aang remembered. "Oh, man!" he moaned, slapping his forehead. "School? I'm supposed to be a Junior this year! How am I going to catch up?" While underground, school had seemed like a dream. The summer he was taken was the year he was supposed to start ninth grade. He had missed two years.
Katara laughed a little. "Aang, relax! We can figure that out later." She smirked at him. "I didn't think school would be something you'd want."
He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Yeah, like being underground was a highlight. After all of that, school sounds like heaven." Honestly, he would rather be inside a classroom learning. At least he knew there was safety there. Besides, he wanted to go to art school after graduation and earn a degree in designs.
Katara rubbed her lips. "Good point."
Sokka shrugged in agreement. "I guess that's fair. But for now," he yawned, "bed time." He wandered away, leaving the two alone.
Aang wanted to bring up that moment in the bathroom, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Wiping his hands on his jeans in a nervous habit, he said, "I'll see you in the morning, Katara."
Katara nodded, looking a little nervous, and maybe a little disappointed? But she smiled at him, said, "Goodnight," softly, then walked away. He headed to his room, changed into his sweats and t-shirt, then climbed into bed. Rubbing his eyes, the clock read a little after ten, but he was so sleepy it didn't matter.
A step had been taken today, despite the initial fear, and the healing process was beginning. Maybe everything would work out. He would get started on the drawing as soon as possible. The sketch book and drawing kit were on the dresser. Sokka must have put them there while Katara was helping dress his wounds. He didn't mind the bandages; he was hardly aware of them.
Once comfortable, it didn't take long for sleep to claim him. Maybe, just maybe, things would turn out okay.
As long as he had hope.
Sorry for being so late, but I hope this chapter makes up for it. I don't know when I'll have my internet back on, but rest assured that more chapters are coming your way. Thank you for your patience!