Teehee. I get the feeling my writing style stinks. But if there's one good thing about it, it's that it's versatile. I can write almost anything—nothing particularly well, but I can write it. Humour, fantasy, emotion, you name it. Horror (well, and smut) is the only thing I refuse to write, so I don't know if I'd be good or bad.

Anyway. You try to enjoy. D

I do not own Avatar, nor do I claim to. This is the work of an admiring fan, and no commercial use is being made of the characters, settings and plots of Avatar: The Last Airbender for personal benefit. Any intelligence related to and including Avatar: The Last Airbender is the sole property of their creators and shareholders. Pheonee is simply too hopelessly, rabidly obsessed with the awesomest-of-awesome that is Avatar.

"Where is he! He should have been back hours and hours ago, but do you see him? No. And is anyone doing anything about it?! NO!"

Sokka was pacing up and down the front porch. Surprisingly, the Fire Nation palace had been built conveniently close to a forest, or maybe the forest was built near the palace, but either way it was easy walking distance to some fresh green air, and the whole gang had taken advantage of this and gone on separate bushwalks during the day. They had agreed to all be back by five for rest and recreation, then dinner. Of course, Aang was not back. We know where he is, but Sokka, Katara, Toph, Zuko, and half the palace didn't. (The other half doesn't care, so they don't count.)

"Relax, Snoozles. It's only half past. So he's a little late, no biggie, he'll be back for dinner. The cook promised him infertile egg-and-cream sauce on those juicy stalky thingies, it's his favourite. He's not going to miss that. Besides, he probably caught sight of some random bush critter and fallen in love with it and wants to take it home. Or maybe some pigeon-squirrels had a fight over a birch-oak seed and he has to settle it. Whatever it is, he's probably lost track of time. It's easy to, when you're the avatar." Toph was utterly undisturbed by Aang's marginal lateness, having experienced plenty of it when her parents were held up at work.

"But," said Sokka, then stopped to think.

He thought.

"Fine, I'll stop worrying," he growled at last. "But if he isn't back by quarter past six, I'm sending out a search party."

"Push the deadline for sundown," said Toph lazily. "Probably about when he'll realise it's time to get cracking."

Sokka groaned. "Fine."

Of course, Aang was not back for dinner.

And of course, he was not back before dark.

Zuko, Toph, Sokka and Katara were in one group, with Zuko lighting the way, Toph clearing the way, Sokka worrying and jumping when he stepped on twigs and they cracked, and Katara calling out his name.

"He fancies you," Sokka had said, not noticing his sister's guilty blush. "He'll come running if he so much as thinks he's heard you."

And so loudly was Katara calling, Aang hearing them could not be far.

"Aang!"

He started. It was Katara's voice. Suddenly, he realised it was dark, and his friends would have been worrying about him.

How selfish I was, he thought sadly.

Slowly, he got up. He was stiff and cramped from sitting in the same position for half the day, and his face and collar cracked with salt, but he made his way toward the sound.

He tested his throat with a murmur, cleared it, and raised his head and his voice.

"Here!"

There were yells of anewed energy and lots of snapping twigs as the party of four scrambled toward the yell.

Katara was first to reach him and collapsed upon him with a sob of worry. He staggered a little, and though he willed himself not to cry, the tears spilled forth anyway, as he felt Katara's familiar, gentle, tender hug.

The hug he might never feel again.

They both cradled each other and cried, and the other three shifted for they were not so capital at these soppy moments. Zuko shifted the most and told himself things Zutaraians would be delighted to hear.

Presently they got back to the palace and sat down in one of the many living rooms, the one closest to the Gaang's quarters.

Aang insisted he was fine, refusing to speak of the day and bade for them to forget about it. Puzzled as they were, they spoke no more of it, and Aang was led to his room for a late dinner.

He tasted tears once again as the door snapped shut and he was left to his dinner. A small flame issued from his fingertip and over the meal set upon the table where he sat, but he had not a single unit of strength or will left in his body that could be spared for things as trivial as eating. So empty and helpless and deprived he felt, with Katara so close and yet so far, that all he felt he could do was sit there for the rest of the night. Even lying down to sleep felt beyond his power at that moment.

So he didn't sleep, but thought.

He spent the whole night thinking about that day's events, replaying that kiss, that hug, over and over in his mind. He wondered what he ought to do; his friends would worry if he simply sat in his room for the rest of eternity, and thought, which was what he wanted to do. He also could not tell Katara how much her affection meant to him, not now she had chosen another; it would either tear her heart two ways or his right apart.

Finally, as the sun peek over the horizon, he decided to bid his time and pretend. He had always been good at pretending. He had had to pretend it hadn't hurt to have his arrows done, and pulled that off quite successfully; and he had had to pretend he wasn't unhappy when his twelfth birthday party had been called off ("You are the Avatar. Avatars do not waste time with such childish folly") so he would not appear immature or whinging, and no one suspected anything else. He had pretended to be someone he was not in order to sneak into the Fire Nation during the war (he would never forget how uncomfortable and bothersome hair was, although it did keep his head warm), and if that had been less than perfectly pulled off he wouldn't be sitting here contemplating the pretends he'd done.

And now he had to pretend everything was fine and he wasn't living as though there was no more to live for, because the two things he had ever desired in his life had been snatched from him; his childhood, and Katara.

He didn't know if he could do it. He had never been able to pull off pretends that involved Katara directly.

He heaved a long, great sigh and looked at the rising sun. He would have to.

For many minutes he stared at the sun. It was so perfect, so whole, so knowing and sure. All it had to do was get up each morning, walk across the sky, and step down in the evening. There rarely were any complications of that ball of fire.

Suddenly, Aang blinked. The bright circle was suddenly marred by a black dot, tiny at first but growing more noticeable all the time. His eyes following its progress, he stood up, just in time to catch the message the hawk dropped into his hands. In half a second the scroll was open and he was reading rapidly, not noticing the bird in its stumble out of the window and flutter back where it came.

As his eyes raced across the page, he felt a mounting feeling that hybrided between dread and excitement. Here proved the perfect excuse to run as far away from Katara's beautiful face as he could, and yet it could well cost him his life. He looked up from the scribbled letter wildly; had he any time to tell his friends? The letter was urgent; and yet he would have to go through the breakfast room for his glider, anyway, and that would be where most would be situated. Immediately he was running from the room, down the stairs, into the breakfast room.

Yeah, more suck. xD Just stay calm D If you don't like it, tell me. But if you don't tell me how to improve it, I can't and you'll just sit here hating it forever. xD