a/n: i own nothing, i promise. everything belongs to bryke.
virgin air expands a dawning breath
as the sun rises over this new hearth.
heart fluttering synthesis nervous excited
steps into a new skin a new face.
i smile and wonder fates drift
this flowing floating river
a current all its own
with rebirth at every bend.
-Anonymous
Waking up on the forest floor, the only thought that enters his mind is well, that was quick.
The coppery taste of blood fills his mouth, which he spits on the ground, and he realizes after a moment that he seems to have an appendix. Huh. Unfashionable and not particularly useful—why does he have one again?
He pulls himself into a standing position with the help of a very nice tree—although he doesn't have time to thank it yet, he's far too eager to see what he looks like now—and once his vision stops doing intense gymnastics routines, he stumbles forward. Chancing a look down at himself, he's pleased to see that he's still clothed. Then he does a double-take.
"Ah! My arms are gone! I haven't got arms!" He squints, flaps his arms a few times, and comes to the conclusion that his sleeves are just too long. Which is a shame, really. Means his latest incarnation is a bit on the short side. Maybe he'll grow in time… "Wait." He tests out his voice again, and after babbling inanely for a while, he concludes that it's far higher than normal. What had happened? And—and what is wrong with his chest?
He stumbles forward more, then realizes he could just airbend himself to the nearest river and/or mirror to see just what's going on. He pushes his arms forward in proper form, but not even a wisp of air comes out. "Airbend," he says, because maybe his chakra needs a little push, "airbend!"
Nothing happens.
Too bad. He'd rather liked the element of air and flying definitely had its perks. He thinks for a while, trying to recall the cycle, but to no avail. He supposes that his forgetfulness stems from having to completely rearrange every molecule in his body again. How many times has it been now? Definitely more than ten but less than fifty.
He reaches a river in no time, but once he sees his reflection he nearly has a coronary because it means that he is no longer a he but rather a she. Bit awkward. He hasn't been a woman in nearly two regenerations—he wonders if going through the feminine motions had been what had made him-when-he-was-Kyoshi so angry. But he's not Kyoshi now: now he's a mildly tall teenage female with chocolaty skin and bright blue eyes and Water Tribe garb and brown hair tied back into a hairstyle he can't even begin to figure out. He has a feeling he looks like someone, someone important to him, but he puts it aside for now.
He supposes he may as well start using female pronouns, all things considered, and complains mostly about the difference in height from his last regeneration and lack of tattoos because damn, those had really been cool. In a few different tones of voice, he tests out some third person phrases: "That's the Avatar; she's the last of her kind. That's the Avatar; she can save the world! She's the Avatar, she travels with an animal comp—ah!" He'd thought he was forgetting something. "Raava!"
He—no, wait, she, he's a she now—looks up to the skies and is nearly surprised out of her wits when a flash of white rams into her, making her fall onto her not-nearly-padded-enough butt. "You aren't Appa anymore, are you, huh?" she asks, hugging Raava's newest form around the neck. Ha ha, she's a she too this time. "Hm. I think I'll call you…Naga. Suits you, eh?"
Appa—no, Naga—nods, like she's proud of her for coming up with a good name.
"As for me…well, that'll come in due time. Any clue of what year we're in?" Naga barks once. "Wait." Her brows furrow as memories come trickling back, reminding her that this isn't quite possible. "That can't be right—are you sure?" Naga looks offended, even for a polar bear dog. "How can that be? When I—when I left to fight Vaatu, it was in 118 AG. It can't be 170 AG now. Can it?"
She has to sit down for a moment, and luckily Naga is nice enough to catch her before she hurts herself. She closes her eyes in concentration as a dull pain begins throbbing behind her eyes, the memories flittering around in the back of her mind—
And then she remembers. Her body hums with suppressed energy and all of her nerve endings explode in pain as she remembers Sokka and Suki and Toph and Zuko and Katara and Bumi and Kya and oh Tue and La Aang had had children. He'd had another one on the way—Katara had been pregnant!
She inhales sharply, fighting the urge to bury her face in her hands. Fifty-two years. She had said she'd be back soon, and she's been away for fifty-two years. She'd missed the birth of her son or daughter, Bumi and Kya's birthdays, wedding anniversaries, the possible deaths of his friends…
She's been gone for fifty-two years.
She's been gone for more than half a century, which means there's no time to waste now. "Naga!" she snaps. Naga whirls around. "I don't know where we are, but we need to get to Air Temple Island right now."
Naga cocks her head to the side and lets out a thin growl phrased like a question.
She feels like her brain is going to explode. This is Air Temple Island? The trees that surround her are the ones that Bumi and Kya had planted last week? No, wait. That had been fifty-two years ago. Good grief. She still can't quite wrap her mind around the fact that she's been gone for so long.
There's no time to think about it now, she tells herself sternly. And with that, she hops on Naga's back and yells, "Yip yip!"
Naga, instead of protesting like she'd expected, takes off at a run. In what seems like no time at all they've made it back to the temple that she'd built in her previous life. But it had grown so much in the last fifty-two years!
"You!" She whirls around to see a young woman dressed in a yellow and red tunic, almost like a homage to her past life. "What're you doing here? How did you get here?"
"Which do you want answered first?" Spirits, why does she have to be all cocky now? She schools her expression, stiffens her spine, and says, "I'm here to see Katara."
The woman, perhaps taken aback at how intimately she had said her former life's wife's name (say that ten times fast), takes a step back. "Master Katara is in hospice," she says evenly.
"Hospice?" But that can't be right. Hospice is reserved for the sick and dying. Her blood freezes in her veins at the implication. "She's dying?"
"She is over eighty years old, ma'am." Ma'am. That's a new one. "She's been ill for the last two years." Then the woman does a double-take. "You know, you look just like she did when she was younger."
Ah. That explains the familiar face of her latest incarnation. Guess Katara really was the last thing on Aang's mind when he regenerated. "I have to see her."
"She is on her last breath, ma'am." She should give the woman credit for her steadfast behavior, but now it's getting aggravating. "Only family is allowed in now."
"Well, that's good because I am family," she snaps, not able to take it anymore. "I'm the Avatar and I demand that you let me inside!" Without further ado, she digs her heels into Naga's sides, and the polar bear dog runs forward at a gallop, entering her past life's home with ease—although she scatters several people to the side as she does so. Luckily, Naga still has Katara's scent memorized, so they find her with relative ease.
She leaps off Naga and kicks the door open, startling the three teary-eyed people inside. But she has eyes for only one person, and for a second she's so caught up on memories of the past that she doesn't quite absorb what's going on.
Katara's once dark skin has paled in age, and her smooth face has spawned wrinkles. Her hair, once a rich brown, has whitened until no traces of its original color remain. She's gotten shorter, smaller, frailer, but her blue eyes, the ones her past life had fallen in love with, have stayed the same through all this time.
"Katara," she whispers. "Spirits, Katara…"
"Who are you?"
Startled out of her reverie, she turns around quickly and sees a brown-haired man in his sixties giving her a death glare. Next to him stands a tan-skinned woman with graying hair pulled back in a ponytail, looking apprehensive. But the real kicker is locking eyes with the fifty-ish balding man that looks exactly like her past life.
She feels sparks of recognition go up and down her spine.
"I'll ask you one more time, who do you think you are, breaking into our home during a time like this?" Bumi asks, advancing forward. He's probably trying to look threatening but she's gone head to head with Vaatu and his Dark Spirits so it kind of feels like a baby saber tooth moose lion is growling up at her. "How did you even get here?"
The only thing that she can think of to say is, "You've all gotten so old."
Kya looks about as dumbfounded as Bumi. "Who are you? Do we know you?" To Bumi, she says in an audible undertone, "Is she one of your bastards?"
"No!" the Avatar snaps, somewhat offended but mostly shocked at the language between the two siblings, who had been close when Aang had left. "If anything you're all one of mine."
Now they all look confused.
"Hey, kids," she says, feeling awkward all over again. "I'm your father."
The silence lasts for half a second—then Bumi says, "Bison bull", Kya stumbles back in shock, and her other child's eyes widen so much she's afraid they'll plop out of his head if he's not careful.
"Impossible," Kya says, still looking a second away from a heart attack.
"Prove it," Bumi says at the same time. "I was nine when Dad left. Tell us something that only we would know."
"First off, Boom," she says, and Bumi pales at his old nickname, "you were not nine when I left. You were seven. You used to sneak egg cookies before dinner and got a bad grade on a science project. Kya, I called you my little princess because when you were small all you wanted to be was a princess. I told you before I left that I wanted you to be my good girl. And as for you," she says to the child remaining, "I never got to know you because I've been gone your entire life. I left when Katara was four months pregnant."
The silence is overwhelming. Bumi and Kya's jaws hang low. Her last child steps forward and brushes his hand over her face, then quickly retracts it. "Tenzin," he says, his voice breaking as he takes a step back. "I'm Tenzin."
"Tenzin," she repeats, committing the name to memory. "It's good to finally meet you, Tenzin."
But before she can embrace her children—Aang's children—Katara sits up on her bed, and she doesn't remember moving but finds herself next to Aang's wife. "I'm back," she says quietly, trying not to cry. "I'm back, Katara."
Katara graces her with a toothy smile, and this time she does start crying. "I knew you would be."
"I'm sorry," she says, because apologies are all she can admit right now. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…I didn't mean to be gone for so long."
"But you saved the world," Katara says, her voice raspy. "And you've r-regenerated, too." Katara's hand comes up and strokes the Avatar's face. "You h-have hair now and everything."
"They told me you're dying," she whispers, cutting to the chase.
"Yes," Katara replies, and she seems to have come to terms with her mortality. Too bad the Avatar hasn't. "I'm dying."
"I can heal y—"
Katara shakes her head, sinking back down into her pillows. "Don't," she says simply. "I have lived a long life, I'm ready to move on. I'm ready to see Sokka and Suki and my parents again."
She's crying, and so are Kya and Bumi and Tenzin. "Mom," Kya mewls, and she has the urge to hug Aang's daughter but can't bring herself to move, "please don't go…"
"Kya," Katara whispers, "will you still love me when I'm gone?"
"Y-yes."
"Then I'll still love you. And be with you." Katara lifts her hand toward Bumi, who grabs it in his. "I'm proud of you, Bumi. I love you so much."
Bumi crumples over her hand, sobbing.
"And Tenzin—" Her words cut off with a series of coughs. "O-oh, honey, I love you. Never doubt that."
"Don't leave us," the Avatar pleads while Tenzin weeps. "Please, Katara. Please don't go."
"I'll never leave you," she says, looking at all of them with nothing but love in her eyes. "I love you all."
One hour later, she dies.
And while the children cry and people rush in and out of the temple making funeral arrangements, all the Avatar feels is numb because she'd never thanked Aang's wife for going penguin sledding with him.
"I'm not staying."
Bumi and Kya's heads shoot up at her declaration. Tenzin, whose head had been up originally, doesn't move, but his eyes widen to comical proportions again. "What do you mean?" he asks.
She scuffs her foot against the marble floor. "I don't belong here," she says honestly. "Don't deny it."
Kya bites her lip and Bumi looks down at his hands. Tenzin fusses with invisible dust on his robes (so similar to the ones of her past life's). But no one jumps to deny it. No one says for her to stay. She'd expected that but it still hurts.
"Look, I..." She doesn't know how to phrase this without coming off as offensive, but the actions of Aang's children over the last few days have been anything but cordial. "I have been here for a week and none of you have said more than five words to me. I've counted. Hello and goodbye don't count."
"What did you expect?" Bumi asks bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest. "A hero's welcome?"
"I don't know what I expected," she snaps, losing her temper. "I didn't expect to be gone for fifty-two years, regenerate, or to have my—or to see Katara die in front of me. Sure, I left you, but you have to believe that I had every intention of coming back and—"
"Save it." This time it's Kya who speaks. "I believed you would come back for a long time. Mom told me—she said you knew where that evil spirit was, that it wouldn't take you forever to beat it. Why did it take you fifty-two years? Admit it. You forgot about us."
"I don't remember," she says through gritted teeth, "what happened that day that I fought Vaatu. All I know is that I woke up, both Raava and I had regenerated, and fifty-two years had passed. I don't know if I spent the last few years lying in that forest, I don't know if he wiped my memory, but I swear that I would never have abandoned or forgotten you." An idea suddenly strikes her like a brick to the head. "But I'm back now! I'm back now and we can start over!"
"The deed is done," Bumi says quietly, showing a little bit of respect for the first time. She, Tenzin, and Kya turn to look at him. "You're back now, sure, but you're not our father. Hell, I only had a few years with him, so did Kya. Tenzin never got anything but bedtime stories about him. You can't just come back and expect us to call you Dad like we didn't miss fifty-two years with y—with him."
A sad smile flickers on Tenzin's lips. "Bumi's right," he says simply, still managing to sound kind despite the heartbreak laced in. "And…well, I have my own life. I'm married, I have three kids—one on the way."
"Mazel tov," she says in a language even older than the lion turtles. At Tenzin's confused look, she clarifies. "Congratulations."
"Thank you. As I was saying, Kya lives with her wife in the Northern Water Tribe. Bumi is a commander in the United Forces. You—your past life was our father. He did many great things, he saved the world, he married our mother, he had us…" He sighs, as if Aang's past accomplishments are too vast to list. "You've just regenerated, and…well, I think you should carve your own path now."
She blinks at them slowly, grabbing her stomach out of pure awkwardness. "You guys really don't want me to stay, do you?" It's meant as a joke, but after a while no one denies it, not even Tenzin—the only one of Aang's children that seems to be on her side.
"Okay," she says, her voice creaky and hoarse all at once. "Okay, then I'll leave."
She walks slowly out of the room, her hands spasming at her sides, hoping that Bumi or Kya or Tenzin or somebody will come after her and beg her to stay. She doesn't know anyone in this world—and the people that were so important to Aang have just wordlessly kicked her out of the house. She feels like a small child again, needing someone to wrap her in a hug after a bad day.
No one comes after her, so she runs to Naga, wrapping her arms around her friend's neck and burying her face in the polar bear dog's shaggy white fur. Her shoulders heave but tears refuse to leak from her eyes. She's too proud for that—she won't give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
"Naga," she says once she's finally pulled herself together. "We can't stay here. I don't want to go through time, not yet. I don't think either of us are strong enough for that."
Naga lets out a rough woof that sounds like a sigh of relief.
"But we do need to get out of here."
Naga nods and cocks her head to the side in a strangely human expression, reminding the Avatar of the times when she'd been Wan and Raava had been able to manifest herself into human form. As time went on, she'd joked about someday having the Avatar reincarnate into an animal and having herself reincarnate into a human so she could save the day once in a while.
Shaking those thoughts away, the Avatar bites her lip hard enough to draw blood and swings herself onto Naga's back. That way she gets a better vantage point of the flickering lights of a city just across the bay—Republic City, it'll be called, Zuko laughs, because I think we need a little democracy to go along with all of the monarchies of the present day—and marvels how much it's grown since she-when-she'd-been-a-he had left fifty-two years ago.
Tenzin's right, she thinks. She needs time to grieve but overall needs a fresh start. Once she's moved on—even though the concept sounds impossible because her heart feels like it's been strapped to a booster rocket—she can find herself a name, look for friends (for companions), travel through time...
(She can't imagine travelling without Katara or Sokka or Suki or Toph or Zuko though.)
"Alright, Naga," she says, gathering the attention of her friend. "Let's go to Republic City."
Naga takes a few steps backward for a running start, then explodes forward, her paws thundering against the soft grass while the Avatar hangs on for dear life. A familiar kaleidoscopic portal opens up in front of them, and they leap into it.
And then, aside from the stunned bystanders watching from the windows, there's no proof that they've ever been there at all.
end notes | okay, so thank you all so much for the frankly amazing response to the first chapter (two reviews, one community add, one favorite, and six follows). you're all incredible! *blows you kisses*
as for this chapter—what'd you think? good? bad? drop me a line and let me know: and remember, constructive criticism is especially welcome! :)