It was supposed to be a peacekeeping mission.
That's what Aang had told her when they agreed to meet up with the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation representatives in the Fire Nation Palace Courtyard. It was supposed to be a sign of respect and willingness to compromise, a treaty to end the animosity between the two countries. It was supposed to heal the wounds of the war between them, to come together as the four nations and restore balance to the world.
Katara should've known it wouldn't be that easy.
They should've known there would be Ozai Loyalists and Dai Li hidden among the delegations.
Now, they are fighting for their very lives. Arrows whistle through the air from above—courtesy of the Yuyan Archers—eliciting screams of pain as they find their mark. Steel sings through the air among the roar of fire and grumble of rock and gurgle of water as they collide amongst each other.
With a flick of her wrist, Katara douses a fireball aimed at her before freezing the ground at her attacker's feet, causing him to slip and slide. She hears the sizzle of flames again and ducks just as a flaming fist swings overhead, where her head had been. She strikes out, sweeping her leg underneath another attacker's feet. He crashes to the ground hard enough that a sickening crack rings out, and he falls still.
Katara crouches down and scans over the battlefield. Sokka and Suki are back-to-back a little ways away from her, sword and metal fans flashing as they fend off their bending opponents—rather successfully, as well. Toph is busy taking care of the Dai Li, easily sweeping wave after wave of the corrupt earthbenders. King Kuei's royal guard follows her lead, raising the earth to trap them or cause them to sink into the ground.
Zuko and Mai are flanked by the firebenders still loyal to them, trying to fend off the Ozai Loyalists. As she watches, Zuko punches out, and a roaring tornado of fire blazes to life, incinerating all unfortunate enough to stand in front. Mai flings out her knives and stilettos with deadly accuracy. Blood sprays as traitor firebenders and earthbenders alike are felled.
And Aang…
Katara manages to catch sight of her boyfriend, surrounded by both Ozai Loyalists and the Dai Li. His movements are as light as air and fluid as water when he slips around the blazing fire and flying shards. With a thrust out from one hand, he sends the earthbenders flying through the air; with a firm clench of the other hand, firebenders are trapped up to their necks in earth. He is a whirlwind of the four elements, easily dispatching enemy after enemy with his mastery.
And in this moment, Katara doesn't see Aang, but the Avatar.
The breath in Katara's lungs leaves her.
(the war is supposed to be over)
She hears it before she sees it. With a sharp twist of her wrist, water from a nearby pool shoots out and hits the fireblast coming at her from behind. With another gesture, she slams the assailant with a spray of water, sending him sprawling into the waiting arms of Toph's earthen trap.
Katara breathes for a moment and looks up to see Aang surrounded by fallen earthbenders and groaning firebenders. He glances over and locks eyes with her, and her lips curl up in response to his relieved smile.
That's when she sees it.
The flash of movement behind him.
Katara screams his name as a spear plunges through his chest.
(lightning striking his hovering figure)
Her feet are sprinting, carrying her towards him before her mind is aware of her body's actions. Aang is staring down at the glint of metal protruding through his sternum with wide eyes, as though in disbelief.
(faltering)
His attacker yanks the spear out of him. Aang staggers, hands flying up and clutching at the (red red) wound. His agonized eyes find hers before he crumples to the ground.
(falling)
Before the attacker can so much as blink, Katara whips shards of ice at him in a frenzy. Two hit him in the knees, one stabs through his wrist and wrenches that cursed spear from his grasp, and one slices the side of his neck.
He falls down. He doesn't get back up.
She doesn't care.
"Aang!" Katara desperately scrambles over the debris blocking her path to him. As she gets closer, she sees the pool of red forming on the stones underneath his curled form. Panic chokes off her breath and blinds her with misting tears. "Aang!"
He doesn't respond.
That's when she notices the Yuyan Archers on the rooftops. They are all looking down at Aang with hungry eyes, with arrows of death pulled back on drawstrings and pointing down at the boy she loves.
(two fingers pointing up at his convulsing form, trailing with smoke)
Katara lashes out at them with water whips, sweeping them off the roof by the dozen. A guttural scream is ringing through the air, a primal howl of despair, and it takes Katara a moment to realize that the scream is coming from her.
But even as she swipes wave after wave of the Yuyan Archers off their feet, even as her vision turns red with rage as she barrels through enemy earthbenders and firebenders, she knows that there's too many of them—already they are turning their attention towards her, hundreds of arrows aimed at her heart. She stumbles as a stabbing pain sears her calf, and she twists to see the shaft of an arrow sticking out from her leg.
But she won't stop. She can't.
She has to get to Aang.
She struggles forward and braces herself for the incoming wave of arrows, ignoring her brother's screams for her to stop!, when a powerful explosion of air sucks the breath from her lungs. She flattens herself on the ground, struggling to gasp in air, and squints up through the scattering arrows and brilliant sun.
When her vision clears, she sees Aang, standing tall and strong despite the blood flowing thickly from the wound in his chest. His eyes and arrow tattoos are all glowing white, and despite herself, Katara finds she can hardly breathe as he sweeps that (blank) powerful gaze over them all, and chills run down her spine at the sight of the Avatar State.
But instead of awe, she only feels the cold claws of fear slithering through her veins and gripping her heart. Not fear for herself, no, nor for her friends.
It is fear for him.
"This ends now," Aang booms, his voice layered with thousands of his past lives. With a casual sweep of his hand, all of the traitor firebenders and Yuyan Archers are trapped within rock. With another twist of his wrist, all the earthbenders' feet and wrists are trapped in ice, and he nods at Toph. Metal flies out and replaces the ice shackles, effectively stopping them from earthbending for good.
The battle is over.
But amidst the chaos of figuring out what to do with these traitors, Katara is the only one to notice the way the glow in his eyes flickers ever so slightly. She is the only one to notice the small tremors going through his hands as he subtly reaches for the hole in his chest. She is the only one to notice the way sweat slicks his brow and the way he wavers on his feet, as though it takes too much effort to stay standing.
So when he suddenly cries out and collapses to the ground, the glow of the Avatar State vanishing like a flame snuffed out, she is the only one to come to his side.
She grasps him and gently rolls him onto his side, only faintly aware that she's saying his name, over and over again. Aang's eyes are squeezed shut, pain etched deep in the lines on his face, and his breath comes in short, sharp gasps. His hands are pressed against his chest, blood spilling through his fingers and staining his paling skin red red red.
"Just breathe, Aang, breathe." Katara rips his sash off of him and wraps it around his chest and back, over the stab wounds. She isn't even sure Aang heard her through the agony, but then he gasps in a huge breath. His chest heaves as he gulps in air, and gradually the cadence of his breathing slows.
"With stab wounds, you must apply pressure as you heal the wound," she remembers Yagoda instructing. "It will keep them from bleeding out."
Katara rolls Aang onto his back. From her waterskin, she draws a stream of water that hums a cold blue as she presses down, down, down onto the wound. Aang convulses under her, his cries of pure agony tearing at her heart as he claws at her hands. Katara squeezes her eyes shut and presses down harder, trying to ignore the way the sash under her fingers grows darker and warmer with (his) blood and the way he twists under her and the way his screams rip her apart.
I'm sorry, Aang, she wants to shout, wants to scream. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry—
She probes his chi, and what she finds makes her want to weep. She bites her lip, trying to keep the tears springing up, and instead tries to focus on mending the ruptured arteries, healing the damage to his organs, draining the blood from his lungs.
His body has gone limp under her hands. She doesn't know what that means, doesn't want to think about it, but she can't help but hear over and over again, He's lost too much blood he's fallen unconscious he's going to—
"It's bad, isn't it?" Katara looks up to see Aang gazing up at her, his gray eyes solemn. She swallows, her mouth suddenly dry, and ducks her head back down so he doesn't see the tears burning in her eyes.
She tries to keep her tone light and the tremble out of her fingers and voice as she says, "It's not so bad. I can fix you up, no problem." Her voice cracks on the last word, and she silently curses herself for her weakness. "I can—"
His hand encircling her wrist stops her. She looks up to see Aang's eyes, ever gentle, ever kind, ever concerned. "You don't have to lie, Katara," he says quietly—and maybe that's it, the way he always, always makes her feel known, seen, heard, and how she's afraid it will be the last time.
The tears come unbidden then, and she squeezes her eyes shut and lets them run hot over her cheeks. She tries to speak, but the words are clogged in her throat—she can't bring herself to say it.
But he doesn't need her to.
(he never had)
The hand that encircles her wrist covers her hand and laces her fingers with his. He moves them across his chest until her hand rests over his heart—his trembling, weakly fluttering heart that makes her weep. With his other hand, he cradles her cheek, thumbing away her tears in wet smudges.
"Katara, please," he rasps. "Look at me."
Katara raises her eyes to his, those gray eyes visible even as her tears mist her vision—those same eyes she's gazed in the very first time she broke him out of the iceberg, those same eyes that kindled hope anew when he came back to her over the fallen city of Ba Sing Se, those same eyes that gave her hope and love and life.
Aang's eyes scan her face hungrily, as though he is trying to imprint her features in his memories. He tries to speak, but heavy coughs scrape deep from within his chest, and red trickles from the corner of his mouth. Katara feels the tears burning in her eyes and the sobs lodged in her throat, but she wills herself to keep her eyes on Aang. She holds him close, cradles his head against her.
Finally, the coughing fit passes. Aang reaches up again and cups Katara's cheek. "You're as beautiful as the day I first met you," he murmurs. "Thank—" He chokes again, blood spilling over his mouth, and she holds him close and silently begs him to stop talking, stop moving, but he determinedly pushes on. "Thank you," he gasps, "for penguin-sledding with me."
And then he smiles, as radiant as the sun even as the light in his eyes dim.
A sob bursts unbidden from her throat, and she presses her forehead to his. "Don't leave me," she begs him. She closes her eyes against her tears and takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Stay with me."
Aang's fingers trail over her skin, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ear, and Katara wishes she had another hand to reach up and hold it against her cheek and never let go. "Always," he manages to choke out. He coughs again, coppery liquid spewing from his lips, and a warm bloom spreads out in the sash underneath her fingers. His chest heaves as he fights for breath, and his gasps for air are ragged, as though it takes him too much effort to breathe.
And Katara doesn't know what to do except hold him close and press into kisses that taste like salt and copper and whisper prayers against his lips for the spirits not to take him away from her don't take him away from me again—
"Katara!"
Sokka and their friends pull up short when they see the two. Someone gasps—she isn't sure who. The next thing she knows, they are crouched around her and Aang. Toph's stricken expression as she presses her hands against the ground is almost enough to break Katara.
Sokka is the first to speak, his tone oddly subdued. "Is—is he…?"
Katara bites her lip again as the hot tears flow, and she looks away. Her eyes inadvertently land on the sash tied around Aang's chest, saturated with (his) blood, and she hears Sokka suck in a sharp breath.
"We need to get him to the medical bay," Zuko says grimly. Despite his matter-of-fact words, his golden eyes are filled with pain. "He's not going to last much longer out here." He stands and turns towards his royal guard to shout at them, the words lost to the wind.
"What can we do right now to save him?" Suki asks, a touch of desperation creeping into her voice. Out of the corner of her eye, Katara watches as Suki lays a firm hand on Sokka's shoulder, and a pang of grief hits her in the chest.
"We could cauterize the wound," Mai suggests, and Katara sucks in a breath in shock. Around her, her friends are all staring at Mai in disbelief.
"You mean we're gonna burn Twinkletoes?" Toph demands. Her hands are still planted in the ground, and she shifts like she's ready to attack Mai for her suggestion. "Your plan is for us to hurt him even more?"
"You of all people can feel he's dying!" Mai snaps at Toph, and Katara can't help the strangled sob at her words. Mai's expression softens ever slightly when she meets Katara's gaze, and suddenly Katara doesn't see the deadly girl with flying knives and stilettos, nor the former enemy she had to face during the war. Katara sees a girl who loves and is loved, a girl who will do anything to protect the ones she cares about—a girl who understands. "Maybe this is the only way we can save him."
Katara looks down at Aang, whose ragged gasps have now become wheezes. His eyes are squeezed shut, face twisted in agony. The beat of his heart underneath her palm has become erratic, weakly stuttering along as it tries desperately to keep him alive.
Katara can't even bring herself to regret as she says, "Do it."
Zuko, who had evidently been listening in on their conversation, shoots her a concerned look. "Are you sure?"
Katara's hackles rise at his questioning her, and she is about to snap at him when Mai levels a stern look at him. "She's sure," Mai says firmly.
"We all are," Sokka adds, with Suki and Toph nodding in the background.
Zuko still looks at Katara with that worried expression, like she is fragile glass about to shatter at even the slightest touch (and she hates it, hates how they all look at her like that, hates that they're worried about her when Aang's dying and she can't… she can't—)
"Okay." Zuko exhales, looking down at Aang with heavy eyes, and suddenly Katara realizes that maybe it's just as hard on him, maybe even more, because Aang's life is now in his hands (and maybe, maybe he's just as afraid of hurting him as they all are). "Okay."
Katara moves away as Zuko crouches down and unravels the sash around Aang's chest. (His) blood spills over Zuko's hands, and suddenly Katara remembers a time down in crystal catacombs, when he had betrayed them all, when Aang's blood had been on his hands. She tries to shove away the dark memories, because this time Zuko is saving Aang (but it's hard, it's hard when she can't see his scar without thinking of her mistakes)
(when she couldn't save Aang)
(just like now)
Zuko has only just laid his hands on Aang's bloodied chest when Aang murmurs something. Katara practically shoves Zuko to the side and bends down to press her ear against Aang's lips, desperate to hear what he said. "What's that?"
Aang drags his eyes open, and a chill goes through Katara when she sees Aang's eyes are unfocused, looking at something only he can see. "I see them," he breathes. "They—they're all here." A tear trails down his face. "Gyatso… Pasang… Tashi…" He reaches up with trembling fingers to the sky. "E-even Kuzon's here." A broken laugh escapes him. "They've come back for me." His chest heaves for breath. "They're—they're taking me home."
Katara gasps in a sharp breath, grief stabbing straight through her heart. "No…" She grabs his hand and presses her lips to his knuckles, barely aware of the hot tears sliding down her cheeks. "Aang, please… no…"
"Home," Aang whispers. "I want to go home. If only…" His hand shudders in her grasp, and his other hand drops limply to the ground. His eyes close, his chest falls, and for one horrible moment, Katara fears the worst.
Then his chest rises with a breath as Toph yells out, "I can barely feel his heartbeat!"
Zuko jostles Katara out of the way and places his hands on Aang's wound. The first orange flames that flicker to life reflect off of Zuko's eyes, making them look as if they too are made of embers. "Forgive me, Aang," he says, voice cracking as more flames join the first.
As Katara shrinks away from the fire and clamps her hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs, she hopes that Aang will forgive her too, for stealing him away from his family again.
Aang is pretty sure he isn't dead.
Pretty sure, because if he is dead he probably shouldn't be feeling this dull, throbbing pain somewhere deep in his chest that pulses along with his heartbeat.
Or what feels like his heartbeat.
He's not entirely sure if it really is his heartbeat.
He sees flashes of them sometimes—the Air Nomads. Sometimes he's riding alongside them on gliders, sometimes on Appa. Other times, he finds himself exploring the old grottoes carved in the mountainside. Still others, he is sitting with them in lessons with the elders, or playing airball with them, or riding the very same air scooters he had created.
And each time the memories fade, no matter how happy it is, a pang of grief would always stab him through his heart. Or are they memories? He isn't sure of that, or really of anything at all.
All he is sure of is that he isn't dead.
The awareness comes slow, trickling bit by bit in the empty void he floats in. Sometimes he thinks he hears voices, familiar and warm, echoing through the murk; other times, he thinks he hears his name, a faint echo that fizzles out too soon. Sometimes, he thinks he can even hear crying.
Gradually, he finds he can make out little bits and pieces of conversations happening around him, and from time to time, he can even feel his body. Once he had been able to feel someone clutching his hand, their lithe fingers warm and firm as their hand surrounded his. That was nice.
But it isn't until he sees threads of green and red and navy and cerulean, bright against the darkness and shadows, stretching towards him, that he feels his soul stirring for the first time. It isn't until he runs towards it, drawn in by the comforting aura, that he feels his consciousness rousing for the first time.
It isn't until he reaches out and grasps those threads that he wakes up.
...
The first thing Aang notices when awareness returns to him is the weight of silky blankets piled up over him. His torso is bare, and clean bandages are wrapped around his chest. When he blinks away the bleariness in his eyes and sees the walls of red and black and gold and chandeliers of candles hanging above him, confusion clouds his brain. Where is he?
He tentatively tries to sit up and yelps as a sharp pain stabs through his sternum. Aang collapses back into the cushions and blankets of red, grasping at his chest and panting for breath. When the shock of pain passes, Aang just lays back with closed eyes and tries to breathe slowly and evenly, the way the monks had taught him.
"Take it easy. You've been out for a while."
Aang opens his eyes and twists his head to the side to find… "Zuko?"
Zuko gives him a mirthless smile from where he leans against the wall. "It's good to see you alive and awake, Aang." He uncrosses his arms and makes his way over to Aang's bedside, sitting in a chair Aang hadn't even noticed was there until now. "How are you feeling?"
Aang probes the center of his chest, where the throbbing pain is, and winces as a spark of pain ignites again. "Like I've been stabbed multiple times," he groans, laying his head back into the pillows.
Zuko gives a slight scoff. "Well, you're not entirely wrong," he says rather dryly, but there is a certain emotion in his eyes, an emotion that flashes by too quickly for Aang to see.
Aang squints at him, confused, but then shakes his head. "Wait… but what are you doing here? Don't you have Fire Lord business to attend to?"
Zuko waves off his concerns. "I actually got done with all the meetings for today. Just wanted to pop in quickly to see how you were doing." Though Zuko leaves it unsaid, Aang hears what he really means: to see if you were awake.
Aang glances up at him curiously before glancing down at his bandaged chest. "Then… what happened?" He reaches up and skims his fingers over the rough bandages. "I don't really remember much."
Zuko takes a deep breath, and Aang suddenly notices that his friend seems… tired. The lines of weariness and exhaustion on his face have only deepened, and his scar seems to sag even more than Aang remembers seeing.
"What do you remember?"
"I remember we were supposed to meet with an Earth Kingdom delegation as a sign of peace," Aang says, brow furrowing as he wracks his brain. "I remember that there was me, you, our friends, and King Kuei."
The Earth Kingdom King smiling upon them along with his escort.
"Then there was… there was screaming."
Explosions rocking the courtyard, chaos reigning.
"And then…"
Yuyan Archers aiming down from the rooftops, fire and earth flying through the air.
His voice falters. "And then…"
Pain searing through his chest, his hand coming away red.
Aang brings his hand up to the place where he had felt the pain. "I got hurt really badly, didn't I?" he asks quietly, already knowing the answer.
Zuko breathes out and nods solemnly. "None of us noticed except Katara," he says, guilt laced heavily in his tone. "By the time the rest of us got to you, you were almost… you were almost dead." He rubs his temples, suddenly looking far older than his nineteen years. "Not even Katara's bending could do much to heal you."
Aang glances up curiously at him. "Then… then how…?" Though he leaves it unsaid, Aang knows Zuko can fill in the rest of his question.
Zuko's eyes flash with that emotion again, that emotion Aang barely catches before it disappears. "I— We cauterized your wound." He drops his gaze down to his lap. "Didn't do much to heal it, of course, but it stopped the bleeding long enough to get you to the medical bay. And Katara was able to take it from there," he adds with a wry laugh.
Aang nods in understanding, but he still studies Zuko with narrowed eyes. There is something off about him right then, something that he can't place his finger on. Maybe it is the way he is uncharacteristically fidgeting with his robes, the way his voice has an odd quaver to it when he speaks.
There had been something off about his words earlier too, when he had talked about how they saved him. The way his eyes had flashed with that emotion. The way he had stumbled over his words. Even his laugh had held something odd about it, something that Aang can't place, something—
That's when Aang suddenly realizes the meaning behind Zuko's words.
"Zuko, did you…" Aang pauses, unsure if his choice of words are appropriate. But he had learned long ago that sometimes it was best to be direct, and so he presses on. "Were you the one to cauterize my wound?"
Zuko sharply looks up at him, his jaw dropping in shock. His eyes are filled with that same emotion that Aang had seen only in flashes before, and with it laid bare on Zuko's face, Aang suddenly realizes what it is.
Shame.
"I—" Zuko glances back down in his lap, and it's enough to confirm Aang's suspicions. Still, it takes him by surprise when Zuko mutters, "It seems even when we're friends, I can't stop hurting you, can I?" He scoffs bitterly.
Aang hesitates for a moment, and then he reaches out and lays a hand on Zuko's forearm, causing his friend to look back up. "But you didn't do it to hurt me," Aang reminds him gently. "You did it to save my life."
"I know," Zuko sighs, shaking off Aang's hand, "but it couldn't have hurt any less, could it?" He looks down at Aang's chest. "And now you'll have a scar there for the rest of your life." His eyes darken. "Just like the scar you got from the Crystal Catacombs."
(from my betrayal)
Aang breathes out and leans his head back, looking up at the ceiling and wondering how he could ease his friend's guilt. He glances over to see Zuko's eyes are closed in brooding silence.
A memory comes then, unbidden and clear in the silence, and before he knows it, Aang finds himself saying, "Did I ever tell you how we discovered Katara could heal?"
Zuko opens his eyes and glances over curiously at him, obviously wondering where Aang is going with his story. Aang continues, his eyes trained to the ceiling, "I had been impatient and wanted to learn how to firebend before any of the other elements." He brings his hands up to his face and imagines the fireballs in his hands now, the fireballs that he had wanted to learn to juggle after seeing that impressive feat. "I was excited to finally start doing tricks, like Kuzon had shown me a hundred years ago. Katara told me to take it slow, but…" He chuckles wryly. "I didn't listen.
"And then…" He clenches his fists shut, remembering the ripple of heat that exploded out as he thrust his hands out. "And then I burned her."
Aang unclenches his hands and looks over at Zuko, whose eyes hold the beginning of a realization. "I carried the guilt with me for a long, long time." Aang tilts his head back up towards the ceiling. "Katara forgave me soon enough but… I couldn't. I swore I'd never firebend again, because I didn't want to hurt her or anyone else again with it."
"But you learned to control it," Zuko interrupts. Aang looks over to see his friend staring at him intently. "You learned it held both life and destruction, and you learned how to use it to give and save lives."
"Only thanks to you," Aang says with a slight smile. He touches the bandages around his chest. "I'm just returning the favor." He gazes into Zuko's eyes, and in them, Aang sees his own reflection, bandaged and wounded. "You saved my life, Zuko," he says quietly. "And this scar right here"—he taps the center of his chest, lightly enough that it doesn't hurt—"is only proof that you would do everything you can to save the people you care about."
Zuko is silent for a moment as he stares at Aang, a plethora of emotions swirling in his eyes. Finally, he chuckles a little. "I guess I can't really argue with that." He stands and looks back down at Aang. "And for what it's worth," he says, his voice a little more gruff than usual, "I'm glad I did it so you didn't die."
Aang smiles a little. "I'm glad for that as well."
Zuko smiles back—rare and fleeting, but he smiles. "Speaking of Katara," he says, "I'll go and get her. She'll be really happy to see you awake." His smile disappears, and the light in his eyes dim a little. "We had… a lot of close calls when you were unconscious. She was really scared for a while." His eyes become shadowed, and Aang can see how worried he had been as well.
Aang swallows, suddenly feeling guilty even though he knows logically it isn't his fault. Before Aang can say anything, Zuko dips his head in a nod, and with a rough, "Hope you get better," he is gone, disappearing back into the palace.
Aang brushes his fingers against his wound again and winces at the small flare of pain. He sighs and lets himself sink into the blankets.
He really hopes so too.
...
A bang startles Aang out of his dozing. He shoots upright into a sitting position and has to stamp down a cry of pain. His hand flies up to hold the wound on his chest, a knee-jerk reaction like it would help ease the ache.
But when he looks up, he forgets the pain, forgets the feel of the rough bandages under his hand. In fact, he forgets how to even breathe.
Because standing in the doorway of his bedroom is Katara.
Aang barely manages to gasp out a surprised "Katara—!" before she flings herself at him, knocking them both down into the bed. Her mouth is locked hotly onto his, and he is distantly aware of the tremble of her hands on his shoulders, of the hot wetness that presses from her cheek to his. He gathers her in his arms, burying his hands in her hair and pulling her close.
Her kisses are desperate, frantic, and Aang scrabbles to respond to her, trying to give her what she needs. Again and again, she kisses him, breathes him in as though not getting enough of him, and so he tries to be enough for her.
Finally, she breaks away and frames his face with trembling fingers, her eyes hungrily scanning his face as though worried he will disappear within her arms. That's when Aang notices the tears trailing down her cheeks, the way her lips tremble as she presses them in a thin line. "You're awake," she whispers.
Aang reaches up and gently curls his fingers over hers, meeting her gaze. In her blue eyes, he sees an oceanic depth of emotion, of despair and fear and grief and hope. "I'm awake," he whispers back.
His words seem to break a dam within her, and suddenly Aang finds himself being crushed against Katara, her body shuddering with sobs that reverberate through his body where they're pressed together. He can feel her heart's rapid, fluttering beat in his own chest, her tears wetting the side of his neck, her desperate fingers clawing at his back as if to reassure herself he is here.
She must've been terrified, Aang suddenly realizes. A pang of guilt hits him when he realizes she had to watch him go down—again. But he shoves away his own feelings; he has to make sure Katara is okay. And so he folds his arms around her again and ducks his head down towards her ear.
"Hey, it's okay, I'm here," he murmurs. Again and again, he whispers his reassurance and soothing nothings in her ear, and gradually her breathing slows and deepens. Calms. Slowly, she shifts out of the crushing grip, but she seems reluctant to let go, and Aang is reluctant himself to let her go.
"Thank the Spirits you're okay," Katara whispers tremulously, reaching up and caressing his cheek with one hand. With the other, she's stroking his hand, tracing the arrow there. "I was so scared…" Her voice breaks, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath. She buries her face in his neck.
A stab of guilt, stronger this time, goes through Aang, and he drops his eyes down to their hands. He gently moves his hand out of her grasp and envelopes her fingers with his. "I'm sorry," he says hoarsely.
He feels Katara shaking her head. "It's not your fault." Her other hand reaches up and alights over the center of his chest, right where the wound is. Feeling her shift in her mood, Aang reaches up and laces their fingers together. He guides their hands across his chest so her palm rests over his heart.
Aang breathes out. "I know it isn't," he murmurs, lowering his eyes. "But it hurts to see you hurting… because of me."
To that, Katara doesn't say anything.
For a long moment, the two just sit there and breathe in the silence. Aang can feel Katara's body slowly unwinding with each breath he takes, as though her body is finally, finally realizing that he's safe, that he's alive. Still, the somber mood hangs over them, like a storm cloud lingering after a hurricane has passed.
Aang is just beginning to doze off when Katara suddenly speaks.
"You stopped breathing two days ago."
Aang glances down sharply at Katara, whose eyes are unfocused. The hand on his chest has tensed up. But Aang has a distinct feeling that Katara needs to tell someone, has needed to tell someone for a long time, and so he pulls her close and listens.
"It was… I was scared, Aang. I was so scared." She looks up to him with wet eyes and whispers, "I thought I'd lost you."
Aang swallows hard. Katara snuggles in closer to his side, her fingers on his chest twitching a little. "It helps when you're close, though," she murmurs. "It helps to hear you breathe, feel your heart beating under my hand." Her hand relaxes. "That way I know I haven't lost you."
Aang lets go of Katara's other hand and winds his arm around her, pulling her against his side even more. Katara melts into him, her body fully relaxing for the first time since she came into his room—maybe even for the first time since he had fallen unconscious.
"Katara…" Aang pauses. Breathes. "How long was I unconscious for?"
Katara closes her eyes, as if seeing all the days blur together behind her eyelids. "A week."
Aang exhales heavily. He looks over and sees Katara's face twisted with pain, as if trapped in a waking nightmare. He pulls her closer still. "I'm okay," he says again, touching his forehead to hers and feeling her unsteady breath against his lips. "I'm okay," he repeats.
And with his words, Katara's eyes begin to clear.
They sit in silence for a long, long time, just the two of them. Breathing. Living. Healing. Katara burrows herself into Aang's neck and kisses the pulse bounding in his throat—another reminder that he's alive, he's okay. She exhales shakily and leans her head against his shoulder. He twines their fingers together and kisses her hand, his heart heavy in his chest.
At some point, Aang feels the atmosphere shift subtly, growing a little heavier, a little sadder, before Katara speaks again. "I'm sorry."
Aang glances at her curiously. "Sorry? For what?"
Katara doesn't meet his gaze. "I know how much you miss the Air Nomads," she says, voice barely audible. She shifts against his side. "And I'm sorry… for taking you away from them again."
Confusion clouds his brain, and Aang pulls away to grasp at Katara's shoulders. She's still avoiding his gaze. "What? What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?"
Katara pulls her hands away from him and twists them in her lap. "Before you fell unconscious," she says quietly, "you said… you said you saw them again. Gyatso, Pasang, Tashi. Even Kuzon." Aang stiffens, but with what emotion he doesn't know. Katara finally, finally looks up at him, and Aang is shocked to see tears brimming in her eyes. "You said you wanted to go home."
Oh. Aang breathes out, closing his eyes. Oh…
"I'm sorry for—for taking you away from them again," she says unsteadily. He hears her inhale shakily. "But I—I couldn't live with myself if—if you—"
Aang's hand folding around hers stops her, and she looks up to him, startled. Slowly, Aang brings her hand up to his lips and gently kisses it, keeping his eyes on her. He reaches over and grasps her other hand, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles over the back of her hand until she stops shaking.
"It's true that I miss them," Aang murmurs, "and I wish more than anything that they were here with me right now." A trickle of familiarity starts in the back of his brain, and he finds himself saying, "But you are my home now. All of you. And I think…" A flash of gray eyes. "I think Gyatso would want me to be happy here with you."
"You really think so?" Katara's eyes peer up at him, vulnerable and desperate and…
Hopeful.
A flash of memory passes through his mind then. Of an elderly man, sitting at a table that holds a Pai Sho board. Of two doors, one that glows with soft light and another that disappears into the unknown. Of the colorful threads that have led him home.
Aang smiles softly. "I know so."
And when Sokka and Suki and Toph barge into his room later and pile onto him with laughs and tears (and sometimes both), when he sees Zuko's and Mai's relieved expressions from the doorway, when he holds Katara in his arms and kisses her tears away, Aang knows for sure that he's right.
He is home.