Author's note: Hi guys! Good to see you back. I wanted to say thanks for all the amazing support you guys have given me so far. It honestly has such a positive impact when I read your comments. A friend of mine lost someone close to them this week, so I was feeling sad. Writing, for me, is a way to process this kind of thing. To those of you who've been asking about writing your own stories - do it. What's stopping you? You might find that it helps you feel a little bit better. Right now, that can be very important. It feels good to be able to put an idea to paper. To tell a story. Knowing that reading this story might make someone feel something is so meaningful. Thank you. This week, we take a trip back in time - and into Katara's headspace. We might find ourselves tearbending...
This chapter's song is 'Atlas: Nine' by Sleeping At Last- it's such a raw, emotional song, and I think it perfectly fits this chapter.
Seven Years Earlier.
'Please don't do this - I love you.'
Failing to stop the tears from streaming down her reddened cheeks as she looked down at the desperate man on his knees in front of her, Katara forced her hand from Aang's grasp.
'I'm sorry, Aang…', she whispered, her voice cracking.
She managed to pull her hand away and turned, breaking into a run. As she did, she tried to no avail to tune out the broken sobs she had left behind her. Feeling a burning weight drop to the pit of her stomach, she rounded a corner as she left the courtyard and burst out onto the city streets.
She was out of breath, her tears getting caught in the back of her throat and making her cough, but still she kept running. Why, she did not know, but she couldn't stop herself. At least this way she felt like she was escaping all of this. She was running from the guilt, from the pain she knew she had caused. Did she regret what she had done? No, she told herself. This was the right thing to do.
She was trying to be kind. To herself, and to him. She couldn't ask him to abandon his life. His purpose. That would be cruel. It would be too much to ask. She may have hurt him now, she thought, but he would heal. She just hoped he could forgive her.
When she was young, she had said that she would never turn her back on people who needed her. She had learned, though, that sometimes people needed you t0 turn your back on them. Aang needed that from her. She couldn't go on living this half life with him any more. She needed to settle down. He needed to do the opposite. She couldn't provide him with what he needed, and to ask him to put her before the rest of the world was out of the question. She couldn't entertain that possibility. She couldn't ask him to do that because she knew that he would. And the world needed him.
As she ran, her mind flashed with images of the life that could have been. The life they could have had, had she not just ended things. Ended them. A home. Laughter. Early mornings and late nights. The crying of a child. Their child. She imagined holding a baby in her arms, staring into its grey-blue eyes and feeling nothing but the purest form of unadulterated, unconditional love. She imagined feeling Aang's hand resting gently on her shoulder as she cradled the child, filling her with a warmth that only he could. She felt safe when he was there. She wanted this life, this idea of a home, of peace and warmth. But she wanted it with him. Without him, there was nothing.
She reached the sea, and stopped running. Gasping for air, she stared out over the water as the breeze whipped up around her. His warmth was gone. She felt cold. For as long as she could remember, he had been there. They shared a past. They had, for the last five years, shared a present. Katara had always been sure they would share a future. The road ahead, she had thought, was one they would travel together. But their paths had diverged. She had driven a stake into the ground and, with biblical strength, ripped their single entity into fragments. She thought of the future and saw only a murky blackness. The uncertainty began to creep in. There was a part of her, she had hoped, that would feel liberated. That somehow, she would find peace in the nebula of uncertainty. But from the moment she turned away from him, she had realised that there was no liberation in this. She had trapped herself in a prison of her own making. The road she was to take was no easier to travel. But now it was one she had to weather alone.
She felt so angry. Angry at herself, for doing the right thing. Angry at Aang for a reality that wasn't within his control. She felt angry at the world. Every little thing, every moment that had led her to this moment. She could have screamed. She almost did.
As the sun made its way down over the horizon, Katara slowly reentered the courtyard. Unable to look up from her shoes for fear of being reminded of the events of the day, she crossed to the front door of the house the five of them shared.
She wondered what they were thinking at this moment. Each of them. She wondered what her brother would think. Would they turn on her? Would she find herself cast out for her cruelty? Would they think her cruel? Or would they see what she had done how she did? Would they recognise that it was in her best interests? His best interests.
The house was quiet. It felt empty. Cold. Nothing seemed to have changed, and yet everything had. The lights still glowed in the lamps on the walls but to Katara, the light they emitted fell second to the shadows they cast. Long shadows thrown across the walls and floors, flickering gently. These walls existed without feeling, without consciousness, yet she felt them staring at her. Staring with pity and shame and judgement. Her head hurt. Her eyes were raw. Her breathing was shallow. She felt tired. Thirsty.
She stood outside the kitchen, listening. Inside, Sokka and Suki spoke with hushed voices. She couldn't make out what they were saying. She rested her hand on the doorknob. The voices stopped. Slowly, she lifted her hand away, and carried on down the hall.
She just kept walking. Anything to avoid going back. She knew she needed to, but she couldn't seem to find the strength to do it.
As she passed Toph's room, she thought for a brief moment about entering. She thought she might talk to her. Of all of them, something told her Toph would understand. She would understand needing to leave someone behind, even when it hurt. Perhaps she would offer her the words she needed. She could hold her and let her cry. Let her release the weight she'd been carrying around on her shoulders for the past few weeks. She walked straight past.
She climbed the stairs to the second floor and ran her hand along a dark mark on the wall. When they first arrived, Aang had tried to fly his glider down the hall. She was coming up the stairs. He saw her and lost focus. They'd managed to get most of the mark from where the tip of his glider had scratched the paint off, but a smudge remained.
Katara choked back tears. Her fingers trembled as they slowly separated from the wall.
She thought she heard a sound come from the end of the corridor. The lamps on the wall were unlit. If there were someone there, she wouldn't be able make them out. Her voice trembled slightly.
'Hello?'
Nothing.
Must have been her imagination. She made her way slowly down the corridor. She stood outside their room for a while, her forehead pressed against the door. It was cool against her flushed skin. She wondered if there was anyone inside. She hoped there wasn't. She couldn't see him now. She couldn't be confronted with what she'd done.
She slowly pushed the door open.
Empty.
Breathe. She crossed the room, taking care to avoid the floorboard she knew was creaky. She opened the window, just a touch. Appa wasn't outside, where he usually slept.
She sat on their bed. Their bed. Everything in this place was theirs. Not hers. Ours. Or, at least, it was.
As she sat there, her mind adrift, her attention was taken by the moonlight streaming through the window. Silver daggers cutting through the ebony, illuminating the corner of the room, just to the left of the door. A worn spot on the floor. His glider wasn't there. She stood and quietly closed the shutters.
The room was plunged into dark. A dark so all-encompassing you might confuse it for oblivion. A total dark, hiding scars, tears, hiding all feeling. Her eyes scanned the void.
She felt alone.
She thought about him. Happy thoughts, sad thoughts. She remembered their first kiss. She remembered their last. Sat on the end of their bed, she thought of the first time they'd shared it. She thought of his warmth. The gentle rise and fall of his chest as he slept. She would lay her head on it and listen to his heart beat. She would lie there and make sure he slept before she did. The night times could be difficult for him sometimes. She wondered what he was doing now. She wondered if he had left early. She lay down, curled up on the bed. It felt so big.
The first time they had shared the bed was the night they had moved in. They had spent years sleeping on mats, or Appa, or the ground. Katara had been almost 19. It had felt unusual to have a place of their own. Somewhere lasting. Permanent. She could tell it had made Aang uncomfortable at first, but she knew he would grow to appreciate it. At least she hoped he would. That night he had slept soundly. Maybe he was tired, or maybe he just felt safer there, holding her.
'I love you' he had whispered before they drifted off.
'I love you too'.
Lying in the dark, curled into a ball to warm her chest, Katara finally let go. She let herself cry. The tears were silent. No frenzy, no panic. No fear. Just sadness. She cried and cried and cried until her eyes ran dry. Then she lay there, face buried in his pillow, silently sobbing into the fabric until her chest hurt too much to go on. Her hitched breathing was shallow, her nose too stuffy to properly draw breath.
She didn't know how long she had been lying there when she decided to get up. It could have been days for all she knew. She felt the wooden floors, cool underfoot. She opened the shutters. It was day. She was thirsty.
The kitchen was empty. She poured herself a glass of water and felt the liquid run down her throat into her belly. The cold was soothing. She was going to have to get used to the cold.
'Katara?'
A voice from behind her startled her. She hadn't heard anyone enter the room.
She turned. It was Sokka.
'Hey.'
'You ok?'
She nodded. She couldn't bring herself to say that she was. Or that she wasn't. She didn't know what she looked like, but she had an idea.
'Did you sleep at all last night?'
'No.'
'Oh.'
They stood in silence for a moment. She couldn't look him in the eyes. Sokka took a step towards her. She moved towards the door. He looked disheartened.
'Katara.'
She didn't say anything, but looked back towards him.
'If you need me - any of us. We're here.'
'Ok.'
Another silence.
'He's not angry with you. You know that, right?'
'Ok. Yeah.'
Not wanting to embarrass herself, she turned and left the room.
How could he not be angry? She thought for a moment. Perhaps sadness had proved so overwhelming that there was simply no room for anger. No energy for it. She wondered where he had gone yesterday. Where he had spent the night. Where he was now. Would she ever see him again? Don't be silly. Of course you will. Would she?
She had nothing to do but think. She went back to their room, and shut herself away with her thoughts. Aang had cleared most of his stuff out. He must have done it while she was out the day before. So soon. Why? Maybe he just wanted to give her the space. Maybe this was easier for him than it was for her. He wouldn't feel the guilt at least. She went over and closed the shutters again. The room was back in darkness. She felt safer in the dark. Nobody could see her. She couldn't see herself.
She sat back down on the bed. Then she lay down. Extending her arm out into the dark and closing her eyes, she hoped somehow he would be there to take it. Or perhaps, someone else would, and lead her far away from this place. From all that she had caused. She knew she had hurt him. She wondered whether their relationship could weather this storm at all. She didn't think so. This felt so final.
She didn't say goodbye the next morning. She had wanted to, but forces unknown kept her in that room. She kept herself in there. Toph had called through the door.
'Katara. Come say goodbye. Katara?'
She hadn't responded. In fact, save for the occasional collapse into tears, she hadn't spoken since she saw Sokka the morning before. By now, even her crying had become silent.
She peered out of the gap in the shutters. They were stood in the courtyard. Aang looked sad. He hugged them, one by one. Toph, Suki, Sokka. She saw him look up to her shuttered window. She wondered if he knew she was watching him.
She hoped he would come back. But then again, perhaps she didn't. She couldn't think straight.
She watched him leave. She watched as he waved, Appa climbing ever higher into the morning sky. She stayed there, peering out, as he slowly became a blinking dot on the horizon. The others turned and went back inside. She kept staring. Finally, he was gone. He was gone.
She put her back to the wall, eyes readjusting to the darkness. She sunk, slowly, towards the ground and curled herself into a ball. She put her head to her knees. She didn't cry. She couldn't. She felt numb. She felt nothing.
'Katara? You ok?'
Katara looked up.
'What?'
Aang smiled gently.
'You went somewhere there.'
'Oh. Sorry. Yeah I'm fine.'
She laughed breathily.
'Sure?'
'Yeah. You were starting at the beginning…'