Letters from the Falling Sky
Summary: "Katara felt helpless. Aang didn't know he had a daughter." Things more complex than the war had finally torn them apart. In isolation, they take out their brushes, regret the past, and write. Kataang, Tokka. Rated M.
Author's Note: I promise all of you that the story will unfold with time. This is the answer to "What happened in their past? What did they fight about? Where is Aang? Why are they mad at each other?"
You're going to find out. I promise!
While the first few chapters will be a bit depressing, I'm hoping the tone will pick up a little bit later on.
I'm pretty sure Sokka will be next but I've also thought about Toph. There's a little surprise in the next chapter about the two of them, actually. Ah! The suspense!
Many thanks to those of you who submitted constructive reviews. Your comments are always, always appreciated, and truly do inspire me to update faster. Keep this in mind when you finish reading, you little scallywags!
-scorpiored112
.2.
He walked into a stony alley with his eyes downcast. It must have been the middle of the night, he thought. But he no longer kept track of time nor of dates. He merely knew it was dark outside. He was wondering around alone, turning things over in his mind.
Aang had received her scroll about three days ago. It had been sent by messenger hawk and had gotten to him pretty quickly. Mostly he spent his days in the Earth Kingdom now. Which, despite the ocean, actually wasn't that far away from the South Pole. He was currently residing with a mayor and his family to find better ways to govern their city, overrun with crime and prostitution.
Even if he was the Avatar, he didn't have the answers to everything. He was still only twenty-two years old and struggling with a few wars of his own. And just because unlimited wisdom was available to him didn't mean that he would fancy to use it. It was much like having a closet. If you didn't need it, or didn't fill it, it just sort of sat there.
He had read the letter exactly nineteen times through.
Aang, she's a beautiful little girl.
She calls you Baba, you know.
She might be an airbender.
With all the love I am capable of giving. Katara, and your daughter, Kya Lynn.
Your daughter, Kya Lynn.
YOUR DAUGHTER, KYA LYNN.
Your daughter. Katara, and your daughter, Kya Lynn.
There were no words that could properly capture his facial expression when he had opened the scroll and read it. Aang couldn't fathom what was happening. He had always known that Katara was keeping something from him—it started the day after she left—but he hadn't known the gravity of the secret. There was a little girl in the Southern Water Tribe calling him Baba. And Katara had kept him from that for what he guessed were a good four years.
How had she found him? How had she known he was here? He tried his best to push the thoughts around—to find an answer to something unanswerable, to wonder around aimlessly until the proper answers finally came to him.
Yet as he turned the corner to another narrow alley, he caught site of one of the mayor's older daughters gently closing the door of her room behind her. It was obvious that she was sneaking out of the house. And she made it even more obvious by screaming out slightly when he touched her shoulder and asked her where she was going so late into the night.
"Avatar Aang!" she breathed, placing a paled hand over her heart. "Goodness—you frightened me."
"Does your father know you are out this late?" He couldn't remember her name—the mayor had too many daughters to keep track of. She wasn't too much younger than he was—probably eighteen or something along that. Somewhat an adult, somewhat still a child. She was pretty, too, he thought, in her skinny little green dress and her flushed, excited face.
She didn't answer.
"Does your father know you are out this late?" he asked again, a little louder.
The nameless girl looked at him. He noticed dimly that her eyes were a sparkling hazel color. "Without any disrespect, Avatar Aang," she started, "but I don't need his permission. I appreciate your concern, but I think I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."
"Don't give me that," he stated awkwardly. "If you had any respect for me or your father, you wouldn't be wondering around in the middle of the night in this gang ridden city. You know as well as I do what kind of condition this dump is in."
She glared at him again; her face wrinkled. She furrowed her brows and crossed her arms and spat furiously, "You're not my father." And then she hissed, in a much lower tone, "What can a bachelor possibly know about parenting?" And then he knew that the respectful dialogue was simply a learned act.
He didn't know how to respond to this, but yet the news of Kya Lynn seemed to bubble to the surface anyway. Aang shook his head. "I happen to have a daughter." She looked up at him. Aang seemed to be talking more to himself. "Her name is Kya Lynn. She's a very pretty girl and I'm taking good care of her. I don't let her wonder around the streets alone." He saw her raise an eyebrow. "I visit her all the time and I tell her bedtime stories. I'm a good father. Your dad is a good father too."
The girl made a desperate expression and dropped her arms. He wondered if she knew he was lying.
"He called me here to fix the city so you'd be protected, and you are disgracing him by doing this. What was your name again?"
"Fa Ling," she responded in a whisper. Embarrassment dripped noticeably from her face. The night was over before it had even started.
She pulled her little green bag closer and turned back to the door. But she stopped suddenly and spun her head to him. "Please don't tell Baba," she begged. "You're right. But please don't tell him. Baba can't know."
She didn't know what she had said that made him divert his gaze to the floor. Aang winced visibly at the word 'Baba' and bit his lower lip to prevent it from wavering. "I won't," he answered. "I won't tell your Baba. Go inside now, Fa Ling."
She calls you Baba, you know. Gran Gran told her to call you that.
"Are you okay?" she asked uneasily. "Avatar Aang, is there something I can do to—"
"Go inside now, Fa Ling. I won't tell your father."
All dressed up with no place to go, she slipped into the doorway without another word. Aang stood there and felt his gut doing flips beneath his skin.
"Why wouldn't she tell me?" he asked in reference to Katara, turning away from the house into another street. Although he wasn't ready to go back to his temporary lodgings just yet, he knew he had to. The scroll was there, and going back would mean reading it again. Reading her name again.
With all the love I am capable of giving. Katara, and your daughter, Kya Lynn.
"Why wouldn't she tell me?" he asked again while passing a brick wall. He fumbled with his keys for a moment before turning the lock and going inside. Darkness enveloped him as he lazily lit the lamp with a string of firebending. He picked up the scroll and held it to his nose.
It smelled like smoke and perfume. It smelled like Katara.
Immediately after their argument, he had tried desperately to fix things between them. But he was still a little confused—a little embarrassed, and though he had written her about thirty scrolls with the admittance that it was his fault for rushing them—that it was his fault that Suki and Hakoda had been killed—his fault Sokka had blamed her—that it was his fault the resistance had been stalking them…he hadn't actually sent a single one.
Thirty perfect scrolls lay in a bag he carried with him everywhere. He had confessed everything to her in those letters: everything was his fault. Everything. And he loved her, and didn't she know that? And what about all the years they had spent together—did they mean nothing? When he missed her, which happened often, he would take them out and read them.
He had written, those thirty times, among everything else, with tears stinging his eyes, I love you, Katara. I'm sorry. There's nothing left to say. Can't we put this behind us?
He had written them and kept them for fear of rejection—or worse, complete ignorance. He was afraid that if he did send them, she would send nothing back. And yet she had sent him this without any initiation.
She calls you Baba, you know. Gran Gran told her to call you that…you probably think I miss you. But I'm telling the truth this time.
Remembering his letters made him feel like a complete idiot. She hadn't said much of anything else—nothing about her brother, nor of Toph, nor much about Kya Lynn, for that matter. She told him her grandmother had passed away. She taught waterbending sometimes to little kids their daughter's age. She told him she was constantly tired and lethargic and had tried in the past to contact him but didn't really know how to go about it. She said she wanted a fresh start; but she hadn't apologized.
Things were complex now, and though Aang knew this, he felt there was only one simple answer: he had to go down there himself.
He had to face Katara. He had to see his daughter who, somehow, looked exactly like him.
There was an evil doubt inside that asked Aang if this was the truth. Do you really think, it scolded him, that it's your child? Katara's young. She's pretty. Honestly. Do you honestly think it's yours?
But something else told him she was. And the fact that she—apparently—had his eyes and face and grin made this all too clear for him. Most Water Tribe men were dark, and he knew Katara wasn't the type to sleep around. It was his fault they had slept together in the first place, as initiation for their later arguments—a chain that had ruined the friendship of four close friends.
Aang fell into the rumpled sheets of his bed and looked at the ceiling of his room. He knew he shouldn't have lied to the mayor's daughter, but suddenly he didn't care. If Katara hadn't lied and kept her pregnancy a secret, he would have proved to be a good father after all. And he was prepared to go there now and be a model figure anyway.
Although he knew he felt sad, he also felt furious. Katara didn't have to right to keep him from Kya Lynn all this time. But then he also felt angry at himself, and a little angry at their daughter for being born so quickly, after only one try. When the anger settled—as it settled in cycles—he felt nothing but a looming vacancy. He felt empty.
Mostly, he felt ashamed.
"I'm a good father," he said into the darkness, detesting the sound of his voice. "I am a good father. She calls me Baba."
From the nightstand next to his bed he took out a torn sheet of paper and picked up a pencil.
I regret this late notice, Mayor Chang, he began quickly. But I have news that there is an extreme need for my help in the South Pole. Although I know your city is…
He stopped writing. He looked down at the scrap of paper and made a face.
"I can't just leave," Aang stated dumbly, balling the paper in his fist and throwing it against the wall. "I should write her a letter instead. I'll tell her I'll come as soon as I can. I'll tell her I forgive her and that I'm sorry."
A soft knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked out the window to confirm the time. "Who is it?" Aang asked loudly.
There was a slight hesitation. "It's me," the feminine voice explained. "It's Fa Ling."
Aang didn't answer. He lazily tried to fix the sheets over his bed and prayed that this wouldn't take too long.
"Can I come in?"
The door creaked open regardless. She stood there in the fancy kimono she had worn earlier that day. He wondered briefly where the tight green dress had gone.
"Can I help you with anything?" he asked, running a hand over his shaved head. "It's late. You should be asleep."
"I know," she admitted bleakly. "Forgive me, Avatar. It's awfully rude to clunk in unannounced, but…"
"But what? I've already told you," he repeated, "I'm not going to tell your father about—"
"Oh, no. No—goodness, it's not that. It's not about my father at all." She seemed distracted. Her gaze wondered around the guest room as if she had seen it for the first time. Aang thought she must like him, in a schoolgirl-crush sort of way, as he often thought when he met young women around his age that refused to leave him alone.
"I'd like to get some sleep," he said bluntly. "I think you could use some too."
"It's about your daughter," she blurted after some difficulty, pulling at her kimono. "I just wanted to ask you…I mean, it's kind of silly, really—don't think me nosey, Avatar. But…I'm just curious. I didn't know you had a daughter. No one did."
Aang grunted in discomfort, still sitting on the edge of his bed. He admitted silently to himself that Fa Ling was cute. She had shiny, long black hair that she wore down, over her shoulders. It looked a lot like Toph' hair, he thought suddenly. When she spoke her lips made quick, awkward movements. He didn't want to talk about his daughter now, but he knew she probably wouldn't leave easily if he refused.
"Well," he answered flatly, in an attempt to close the conversation, "it just so happens that I do. And for the record, please don't go blabbing it to everyone you see. I'd like to keep her protected, if you don't mind."
"Right—of course. From the resistance."
"Yes," he answered. "Yes. From the resistance."
"How old is she?
"Four years old," he mumbled plainly. "Good night, Fa Ling."
She reached for the back of her neck. It was too dark to see if she was blushing, but he could safely guess that she was. "Can I ask one more thing?"
Thoroughly bothered, he nodded out of politeness.
"Who is her mother? Who is your wife?"
She saw his back stiffen in the slight light that came in from the hallway and the lamp. "What is it to you?" he murmured directly. "I think you know too much already. Please go to sleep. It's late." Again the politeness prevented him from saying what he truly felt. He wanted to slap her face and tell her that it was none of her business that he and Katara weren't married, and that they would have been, if it wasn't for him.
"It isn't that one waterbender, is it?" she asked quickly, playing anxiously with her hair. "Kya is a Water Tribe name."
"Go to sleep," he ordered, meeting her gaze. "If you don't leave, I'm going to tell your father."
"Of course," she replied quietly. "I'm sorry, Avatar."
"Please go to sleep."
She rubbed her arm and bowed. "Of course. I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—"
"Fa Ling," Aang breathed, "I forgive you. Now please go to bed."
She made a face and dropped her head. He saw her disappear into the hallway without closing the door. He couldn't help but feel she was a ridiculous girl, and he hoped that his own daughter wouldn't grow into some one as blunt or as rude as Fa Ling.
Aang had become a cynical sort of person over the course of four years. He was sick of this polluted city as well as the mayor's overbearing daughters. Even if he had already been here for two weeks, he was starting to feel a little unwelcome.
He grabbed another sheet of paper—this one had a tea stain on it—and sharpened the pencil.
Write Katara a letter. Leave Mayor Chang's city ASAP. Dream about meeting Kya Lynn.
Seeing his hand write her name gave him goose bumps.
"Why didn't she tell me?" he asked aloud for this third time that night, burying his face in his hands. She called him Baba. She was in the South Pole waiting for him. He and Katara had created a little girl who Katara had named Kya Lynn.
And the weight of the world fell onto Aang's shoulders like a series of rocks and stones. He didn't know that, many miles away, a young Water Tribe woman he loved was also having trouble crying. He didn't know that her brother was suffering another tragedy of his own in a foreign country. Although he knew that they needed each other, he didn't know what he was prepared to do about it.
All he knew, at this hour in the middle of the night, was that he could not write to Katara first. Instead he wrote a letter to Sokka on a good, clean sheet of paper with one of Mayor Chang's fancy fountain pens.
He wrote, unlike Katara, slowly, and with much thought. The Avatar was a stranger to impulse.
…I don't know what to do. I was so confused about how to contact her. You know something crazy? I wrote her thirty letters, but didn't send a single one!
I know that I haven't written anything to you at all, Sokka, but you were mad at me the most out of the four of us. I remember you called me lots of things and attacked me with your club. I know you were angry about Suki and Hakoda. I'm sorry, Sokka. I'm sorry that the resistance was there. But you have to understand that it wasn't my fault…
He wrote more and more. The paper was filled up halfway, but he kept going.
...Katara needs us now more than ever. She needs me for Kya Lynn and she needs you for Gran Gran. I know you hate me. I know she still probably hates me too. But it's just an argument that got out of control. I know people died, Sokka. I'm not a complete fool, although you may still think I am.
I'm sorry I slept with Katara and I'm sorry the resistance was after us. I'm sorry for all the other things that got in the way. Maybe we can go back to the way things used to be. You and me and Katara and Toph. Remember? The fearsome foursome?
After he finished, he rolled up the paper and tied a ribbon to it. He decided it would be best to send it first thing in the morning.
Aang slept a restless sleep. But when his eyes did close, and when his movements finally stopped, he dreamt about airbending with his daughter. He dreamt about holding Katara again.