A/N: Currently listening to a HIV symposium online and since it's being recorded I thought just to edit and post this chapter. It's another short one which I'm sorry for, and it's pretty depressing, so double sorry? Enjoy! XD
To Guest review since I can't PM you, I want to say thank you for your question! Tbh I still haven't decided what I'm going to do with her, still improvising at this point, but I love your idea. I can't believe I forgot about that connection, but that's would defo add another layer to the story. Guess we'll see where everything goes.
Monday Night - Nightmare:
Katara's POV:
Running. I'm running. I have to catch her, I just have to! I can't lose her for a second time; I won't allow it.
My eyes are pinned on her kind, gentle face as she stands several metres away from me. Her body is turned towards me with her arms wide open, beckoning me for a hug. But she doesn't see the shadow creeping behind her. Or the glint of something shiny in the dark.
"Get away from her!" I shout, startling my Mum who turns round to face her murderer.
A single gunshot is all it takes for the world to shatter around me as my mother instantly falls to the ground with a thud.
Blood already seeps onto the floor. Dark red, sticky liquid pools around her as her eyes stare absently at the sky. No longer seeing. Not anymore. Her mouth hung open in half a scream. But she's silent now. Silent forever.
"MUM!" I shout loudly as I jerk up from the bed to be greeted with the darkness swirling around in my room, reminding me of where I am. At university.
My stomach lurches into my throat at the awful image that remains firmly fixed in my mind's eye. The same image I've conjured every night since the funeral. I raise a hand to my mouth as a harsh sob escapes me. And then another.
Large hot tears run down my cheek as I try to stifle my crying in case anyone hears, but my heart aches at Mum's loss. The way she died. Her pain. Her absence. More tears slide down and fall onto my duvet, soaking the fabric through, but the pain refuses to leave me, even though it's been over two weeks since it happened.
It just feels like I'm experiencing it again and again and it doesn't want to relent. It just wants to remind me how much I miss her. How much I love her. How much I want her back. 'I need to see her.' I decide and already formulate a plan to visit her grave tomorrow, not caring if I miss a full day of lectures.
"I need to see her. I just...need to." I whisper to myself as I hug my arms to my chest, willing for the remnants of my nightmare to leave me alone.
The Next Day:
It's a cold windy day when I step off the bus, back in my hometown. A single pink rose is clutched firmly in my hand as I make my way over to the dreary graveyard. A span of land so large that you'd wonder why they'd give so much to the dead who wouldn't know any difference. I suppose it's more for the families than anything. Or maybe it's a sign of respect. Honouring the life they led. The great things they did.
My feet falter slightly and I have to gather my wits before pushing forward, looking for the new gravestone. It was in the shape of an angel, because in many ways that's exactly what Mum was like. An angel who took care of us. My throat burns and I have to swipe at my eyes to keep my vision clear.
A few moments later I spot it. Still looking as new as it did last week. I tread carefully, as if worried I'd be disrespecting this sacred place. Its only when I'm less than a feet away from the headstone do my knees buckle from underneath me and my patellae hits the ground roughly. With a shaky hand, I stretch out my arm to the engraved writing:
Kya Aqua
Loving wife, mother and friend. Forever missed.
It's basic and simple, purely because Dad was too much of a wreck to think of anything else and both Sokka and I declined to amend it, too sick to the stomach to even think about an appropriate send-off. Yet, reading those words back now, it feels wrong and generic.
My hand drops from the stone to the ground, knowing that exactly 10 feet underneath me is the remains of my mother, although having covered the basics after rigor mortis in yesterday's lecture, I probably wouldn't recognise her now. A sense of nausea passes over me and I have to clutch my stomach to hold off a heave.
"This shouldn't have happened. Spirits, I'd do anything if you brought her back or at least let me see her one more time. Pl-ease." I beg, my voice cracking as I lean all the way forward until my forehead is pressed against the tombstone. "I just want you back Mum. I want you back so badly." I cry.
Minutes turn into an hour, before my tears finally dry and just as I rise to my feet, I catch the distinct sound of sniffling. My heart lurches at the sound, reminding me that I'm not the only one to encounter loss. No. As I look around at all the headstones, it hits me that many people have faced loss. It's a constant, never changing event. And yet, it's when they're taken too soon does the pain intensifies.
At the repeated sound of sniffling, I scan the graveyard, thinking that I could possibly give a grieving person some comfort. But the land is too large and the sniffling too faint for me to be able to pinpoint its exact location.
With hesitant feet, I find myself treading deeper into the graveyard, where the death dates become further away, starting with months ago and then eventually years ago. As I walk, I pass by a huge tombstone. 3 swirls arranged in a triangle are etched at its very top, it's so intricate and detailed that I'm tempted to pause and read the large stone, but the sniffling gets louder and without another thought, I continue to walk towards it.
Just as I round another stone, I spot a young-looking boy crouched at an old, cheap looking gravestone. His head is bowed so low that it practically touches the ground. But that's not what shocks me. No. It's that strikingly familiar orange beanie donned on his head. I cover my mouth with a hand. 'Is that Aang?' I wonder worriedly. I lift one foot, ready to go over to him, but my body freezes when he starts talking.
"It's been a while since I came here I know. I'm sorry. A graveyard isn't the most...easiest of places to visit." I hear him sigh as he lifts his head off the ground to lean back onto his heels. His eyes glued to the stone.
And suddenly I realise that I'm intruding on something very private. 'I shouldn't be here.' I voice silently. I glance behind me, wondering what to do. 'If I go now then he'll hear me for sure. And I can't listen to this, surely? But...isn't it wrong to leave a friend crying when they're hurt?' I bite the inside of my cheek hard, torn on what to do.
"I'm so sorry for what happened. You didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve to have me as a son. It was all my f-fault." The boy's voice cracks as clear as day and I find my resolve crumbling some more over not going and comforting him. "It might have been years, but Mum, Dad it still pains me just the same." I nearly choke at those words while the boy presses his forehead once more to the ground. 'Oh no. Oh no, no, no. He didn't just say both. He can't be an orphan.' I think to myself in horror as my eyes fill up once more.
But when he lets out a strangled cry, I decide I can't just stand and do nothing. In five long strides I'm by his side on the ground, with a hand on his back. He jerks up and upon seeing me his face pales, but I don't give him time to say any more than his scared;
"K-Katara?! What are you-" I wrap my arms around him so tightly, cutting him off as I squeeze all my emotions into this embrace, willing for him to hear all the things I'm trying to convey. How he shouldn't beat himself up for whatever happened in the past. How I'm here for him. How he's not alone in his grief.
It's a full minute before he lifts his own arms to enclose them around me, burying his face into my shoulder as I clutch him close. Dampness seeps into my clothes a moment later which acts as the trigger to re-start my own waterworks.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I repeat, my throat clogged with emotions as I start rocking the two of us back and forth. After several minutes the boy's crying slows down to the occasional sniffle before silencing completely. I feel him shift beneath me, so I loosen my arms to allow him to pull away. His face is tired and slightly blotchy as he turns his head to the side.
"You weren't meant to know." Aang mutters. I bite my lip and drop my head in shame.
"I'm sorry. I just couldn't bear to leave you alone like this." I apologise regretfully.
"Why are you even this far out?" He follows up with, flickering his gaze onto me. I part my lips, but no words come out.
"I...this is my hometown." I finally say after several awkward seconds. The airbender's eyes widens comically as he gapes at me.
"You live around here?" He repeats in disbelief and for some reason I start to feel uncomfortable.
"Yes?" I say, sounding less sure than I should be considering that I've lived my last 18 years in this very city.
"But why were you...oh." He trails off to rub the back of his neck. I clutch my elbow while he runs a fingerless gloved hand over his covered head. Whatever storm that's swirling around in his head, it makes me feel obliged to say something.
"So, your parents?" I prompt as delicately as possible, but the boy still flinches hard.
"We should go." He mumbles and gets to his feet. As soon as he's up, I immediately notice a familiar looking pie set in front of his parent's stone and my breathing catches at the sight. "Katara?" Aang's voice suddenly breaks through my hazy fog and my eyes dart guiltily to the child genius.
"The pie was for your parents?" I whisper thickly. I watch as he crosses his arms in discomfort before jerking his head in a nod.
"Yeah, but I didn't mind sharing it with you. It's...an Air Nomad tradition to share it with people you care about." Aang utters quietly. The organ in my chest jumps at those words and I can't bring myself to maintain eye contact. Instead, I glimpse to the engraved words on the tombstone:
Mum & Dad,
Gone too soon.
Love you always.
My heart will never be the same.
The next time the wind dances I already know it's you.
A lump lodges itself in my throat at the heart-wrenching words. Short and to the point, yet still able to stab just as sharply. A gloved hand appears on my shoulder and finally I force my legs to move.
We start walking silently out of the graveyard. My eyes roam over my mother's grave as we pass by. The single rose I left looks ready to fly with the wind. Aang must've been watching me more closely than I realised as he suddenly stops.
"Is that your mother's?" He asks quietly. I give a rigid nod and watch in shock as he carefully goes over to the headstone.
He crouches on the ground and picks up the rose. I watch in awe as he brushes some dust off it before firmly inserting the long stem of the flower into the ground beside the stone. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out what looks like a string and ties the rose to a nearby weed, ensuring that the flower is secure and won't fly away. His eyes flicker up the headstone briefly before he pushes himself up to his feet and gives the lowest bow I've ever seen anyone give.
Intense feelings bubble through me and it's so hard to distinguish them as they mash into a huge fiery mess within me. So when the boy returns to my side, the only thing I can do is whisper the quietest thank you before we continue on our way out of the graveyard.
Just like last time, the sense that someone is watching us from afar pricks at me. I glance behind me briefly, but find no one, only hearing the fluttering of the wind. 'Paranoia really doesn't suit me, that's Sokka's thing ' I convince myself as we finally leave the sombre place.
A/N: Erm you guys alright? I hope that wasn't toooo depressing? But you did get a couple of nuggets of information. One's subtle. But the other is confirmation of Aang's parents being dead.
Next chapter is a flashback which you'll either enjoy or hate, well I guess it depends on how intrigued you are for the past. I'm still going to drop new plot points relatively slowly, but the next few chapters do contain a lot, so you'll be happy to know that some of the mysteries are coming to light soon ;) I might have time to post on Sunday, but after that my lectures and assignments start piling up. Anyway, thank you, thank you, thank you so much for all your words and interest in this story, I'm exceedingly touched. See you all later!
14/5/21