-o-This chapter is dedicated to the scar on my upper-right arm.-o-

Sokka's prejudice against bending went deeper than the fact that he always seemed to get soaked with 'magic water' any time someone attempted to use it. It went deeper than the fact that when the last water bender had left the North Pole, a light in his sister's eyes had died, not to be reawakened for another two years when they met Aang. Sokka's dislike for bending was rooted firmly in his natural tendency to be a control-freak. It didn't bother him necessarily that he wasn't the one that had the ability to bend the elements; it bothered him that those he did know had little mastery over the elements they professed to control. It seemed to him that a bender was often a conduit for their element, not the other way around. How often had he seen Katara's anger get the best of her and manifest itself in some catastrophic display of her 'ability?' When Aang sneezed, he flew ten feet into the air—powerless against his air-bending outburst. Sokka resented that bending was seen as the ultimate strength in the world because more often than not, someone with little bending ability was viewed as more powerful than a non-bender, simply because of his or her "mystic abilities." Sokka resented the fact that he had trained for hours and hours with his boomerang, until the science of the act gave him perfect command over the misunderstood weapon...and still he was seen as inferior to those who had little ability but to prove that they could bend. The boomerang that set him apart from his companions as a non-bender also proclaimed a skill that they had little of, comparatively. Control.

He worked for hours to hone this skill—hours upon hours of throwing his boomerang with all his strength and waiting for it to return. Listening with his eyes shut for the 'swish, swish, swish,' that marked its approach; procrastinating until the very last second to reach up and snag it out of the air. He relished the strain in his muscles after he had just thrown it, and the sting in his palms that was the reward of his skillful catch. He loved the way his body calculated for him the direction and strength of his throw to maximize the damage or produce the easiest return path. Nothing was more rewarding than watching the surprise on his enemy's face when the weapon they had assumed missed came back and hit them directly on its target: the back of their unsuspecting head.

There was nothing "wishy-washy" about a boomerang--only calculations and physics. The boomerang would not work if it was damaged in any way, and so he was more careful than his bending companions, who (with the sometimes exception of his sister) had their weapon in never-ending supply. Sometimes he fought without his boomerang, because it was not appropriate for the situation. He had to learn to be flexible, to be strong, to be unbreakable, to never be surprised. His life depended on the ability to recognize when to use his machete instead of his boomerang, and when to throw both to the ground and use his fists. He had to know what to do, not just rely on instinct that could all to quickly turn feral.

An Earthbender could crush an enemy without thinking. An Airbender could accidentally push someone off the edge of a cliff—or worse, suck the air out of their lungs. It was idiotic to anger a Firebender or a Waterbender, for obvious reasons. Tempers flared and resulted in someone getting hurt. Benders lost control of their abilities too easily.

Sokka's talents were not like that.

You either dodged a boomerang, or you didn't. There was no middle ground, like only getting hit with the tail of a water whip. A boomerang was either hit or miss. That meant that when the sharp edge of the revolving weapon sliced across someone's skin, it had got its target. One little turn of the wrist was all the difference it took to alter a simple hit into a serious injury. The same calculations that brought the curved weapon back to him could sever vital muscles, could critically wound. Could kill someone, if it was needed.

He resented bending because a bender could say that his or her abilities had gotten the best of them. When someone died, a bender had the luxury to doubt whether or not it was really their fault.

When Sokka killed someone, he always knew it had been intentional.

-o-

The boomerang soared through the air, slicing through the wind in decisive, quick rounds. The young Water Tribe boy's eyes slit to narrow blue slivers as he watched his weapon come to the first curve in its path, his muscles tensing. The throw had been high. He judged the distance and jumped, catching the boomerang and landing in a quick somersault. He let the momentum of his tumble bring him to his feet again, where he quickly threw the boomerang again.

"Can I try that?" Sokka whipped around to find Aang reclining on his stomach on a rock he had no doubt bended himself, seeing how it contoured to his features. The young Airbender lifted himself to his feet and indicated vaguely the direction over Sokka's head. "You know, you're boomerang. Can I try it?"

A long arm reached into the air and snatched the weapon as it passed over him. Sokka looked down at the metal and bone contraption, then handed it over to the Avatar.

"No bending," he warned with a grin. "That's cheating."

Aang nodded seriously and gripped the end of the boomerang, imitating the way he'd seen his older companion handle the weapon. Sokka remained silent, letting Aang figure it out. A moment later the weapon was in the air, but instead of completing a perfect arc and returning to the thrower, it landed about ten feet to the left. Aang ran after it.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked, jogging back to the spot where he'd been earlier. His voice was more curious than disappointed. Sokka took the boomerang from his hands and demonstrated.

"You just threw it. You need to use your wrist more. Like...this." He moved just his hand slowly, and then showed how the arm moved with the wrist. He handed the boomerang back to Aang and indicated he should try again. Sokka stepped back, watching as Aang readied himself and threw it again. This throw was better, and it revolved quickly through the air. Sokka could tell that it would return correctly, and smiled at Aang's concerned look as he focused intently on its progress through the air. Sokka wondered vaguely what it would have been like if Aang had been just another boy in the village, learning these tricks from an "older brother" in the tribe.

"Oh!" Aang exclaimed, clutching his arm. The boomerang skittered harmlessly to the ground, and Sokka picked it up on his way to help his friend. His sleeve was torn and a thin line of blood dripped from a shallow cut.

"What happened?" Sokka asked, confused.

"I didn't expect it to actually come back!" Aang said, his eyes wide. "I didn't try to catch it until it was too late!"

Despite himself, Sokka laughed, and patted the younger boy on the shoulder.

"You better go see Katara about that," he suggested, and tried ignore the light that turned on in Aang's eyes at the mention of his sister. The Airbender ran off to be healed and Sokka followed at a slower pace, taking time to wipe the Avatar's blood off of his weapon.

It had been a long time since he had made a silly mistake like that with his boomerang. The war had forced him to grow up too fast, to learn the skill of a deadly weapon when he should have been penguin sledding. He watched for a silent moment as Katara and Aang interacted, and even from this distance he could make out the blush on their faces as the Avatar took off his shirt.

He turned his back to the camp and closed his eyes.

Sokka had killed with his boomerang. There was no going back about that, no denying it. The weapon had been cleaned of the blood it had shed, both of the Firebenders it had slain and the accidental cuts it had made. And yet…it was also a recreational tool, a tool that Sokka could release tension by. He watched as it spiraled into the sky, and despite it all, a smile slipped onto his face. He caught his boomerang and headed back into camp, welcoming the sight of his companions.

Yes, Sokka had killed. Fortunately, he had the knowledge that there were more important things, and the control not to let it get to him.

-o-Bleah…some parts of this I love, but other parts I absolutely despise. The whole situation with Aang and his arm actually happened to me, so I do kind of know what I'm talking about…kind of. Whatev. I love the boomerang guy! And to anyone that cares, my Smellershot is coming along...painfully slow. Don't worry though, it'll get up, eventually! Review if you will, please!-o-