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 begin with a huge thanks to all of my faithful reviewers. Some of you have stopped reviewing (you've abandoned me, which breaks my fragile heart!) Hopefully I'll hear from you in this chapter. All of your comments—or most of them, I guess, in certain cases—make me smile. It's so good to know that you're following the story and that you're liking it. Makes me feel fuzzy inside. And encourages me to update!

So thank you, thank you, thank you.

I know that after reading this chapter and seeing how it ends, you're all going to want to kill me. But I promise you that I will update as soon as I can. Aang is coming soon, I swear it.

Happy reading,

-scorpiored112

.8.

Healers were a special type of person. They were passionate. And, on many occasions, dramatic and furious and upset with the world. Many of the healers in the Southern Water Tribe were older women, usually over the age of thirty. Katara was a special case in that sense. Only twenty-four and already at the top.

In fact, the only healer above her level was a woman named Koko, who was about twenty-seven years old. The relationship between the two great healers was commonly misunderstood, and a little dark to begin with.

Koko disliked Katara's bragging and Katara disliked Koko's quiet, suspicious nature. Out of the two, Koko was respected more for her age, but Katara could get the job done quicker and more efficiently. Both of them, in this instance, were fighting over who was going to save Toph's life.

When Katara entered the healing lodge after parting with her brother, she took immediate notice of two things. One: way too many healers. The Tribe only held about fifteen of them and they were all in there. It was both unnecessary and rather ridiculous.

Two: Koko was calling the shots. Which Katara didn't like. Ever.

So the first thing Katara consciously did was shove Koko out of the way—gently, or somewhat—and pull a string of water out from the spirit water basin. She placed her hands over Toph's shoulders and felt the diminishing levels of energy flicker out. It scared her, and when Katara looked up, she couldn't help but make a face.

"What is it?" Koko asked obnoxiously. "I told you—she's dying. That's why I went out of my way to pull you in here."

Katara asked, just as bitterly, "What were you doing this whole time?"
"Trying to keep her alive."

"Doesn't look like it," the younger woman retorted. "She's dying, for God's sake!" And then Katara unconsciously flipped around and screamed at all of the healers to leave the lodge immediately.

Many of them left without arguing because they weren't doing anything to begin with—not to mention that they all had a certain liking for Katara. But Koko held firm and refused to move.

"What on God's earth do you think you're doing?" Koko screeched in disgust as Katara physically pushed her out. "You need me in here! Do you think you can handle this yourself?"

"Yes."

"You aren't nearly as experienced as I am!"

"If you were half the healer you think you are," Katara spat furiously, "than you would have done everything you could before her heart started giving out! You wouldn't have ran around for help!"

"How dare you!"

Katara's hands angrily shoved Koko out of the lodge. Then she slammed the door shut and began crying. Toph was vanishing and there was so little she could do now.

No one knew how much her brother needed Toph except for her.

Koko and the others couldn't possibly grasp this. Toph was more than an Earth Kingdom citizen—more than some unfortunate patient. She was her brother's last chance at happiness.

She was Katara's little sister—just like old times—before the war. Before the love-making and lying and truth and blood and murders. Before the drama of sisterhood actually stepped in the picture.

Katara could distinctly hear Koko firing up the other healers outside, and she worried more when Sokka's voice bellowed over the crowd, "What's going on?" But she knew she had a job to do, and ignored everything. When Toph woke up, Katara wanted the lodge to be perfect. Everything had to be controlled.

There is a certain "air" about healing that becomes extremely personal. Only the greatest healers are able to do this. When someone is dying and you actually feel for them—you actually want them to live—you actually love them—then your own energy levels are placed aside. You do not care whether you "can" do this, but more so "how" you are going to do it. Katara placed her hands on Toph's forehead and focused her energies on the girl's organs, which were starting to slow down. Their metabolic processes needed help and it was easy to tell that Toph was going to need major healing sessions after this.

Something about being in the room alone with the earthbender also helped Katara realize something else: Toph had grown up. She was taller—although thinner—and more beautiful—although paler—than when she had last seen her four years ago.

As healers argued outside, Katara tried to focus on the healing session. It was going to be short and precise and intense. That is how Katara worked. That is what she found most effective.

In that time, Katara was exposed to a whole new range of emotions and sensations that had died along with her grandmother nearly a week ago. She loved Toph. She had missed her. And now Toph was dying, and Katara was going to save her, and things were looking bright for once, and maybe—

Maybe this would be her form of redemption.

So she worked and worked.

She placed various amounts of water over Toph's bare stomach, which was where the ultimate energy center existed. Slowly but surely, Katara could feel the movement. She saw Toph's fingers twitch slightly and then fall back on the mattress. Half way through the session, she caught the eyes of Kya Lynn's doll, placed by Toph's side, and stared at it.

And, strangely enough, Katara admitted to the little bison with a small smile—because she needed someone—anyone—to hear this, "She's going to live, Appa."

The bison replied with a noble, appreciative silence.

Katara became unmentionable happy when, after the span of ten minutes, the earthbender's energy levels began to stir underneath her skin again. When the glow from Katara's hands disappeared into Toph's body. When her heart gurgled to life and when her hand twitched enough to actually move up and touch her own forehead. When Toph moaned softly, almost like a child.

This is where we see the other "air" about healing. People do not gradually become conscious. They just wake up, as if abruptly interrupted during a trance.

"Thank God!" Katara started repeating—no longer to the bison, but to herself. "I knew it. I knew you wouldn't die on me, Toph. I swear I knew it!" And unconsciously, Katara hugged her, and then remembered her weak state, and their previous argument, and jumped back.

Toph placed her hand on the nearest wall and, realizing it was made of wood, frowned and turned to the healer's voice.

Her own voice cracked. It sounded old and saddened. She whined timidly, as if unsure, "Katara?"

"Yes."

"It's you?"

"Yes, dear," Katara prodded, grabbing Toph's pale hands. "it's me."

The lodge fell into a silence for a moment. Toph was surprised to find how much Katara's voice had changed in the four years she had been away. It was harder—empty, almost. And it was strange because Toph had always thought of her friend to be a passionate, distressed girl, whose voice was always full of life and energy and franticness.

"What happened?" Toph replied evenly. She tried in vain to sit up, but her back jolted and she stayed put, yelping out slightly in shock.

Katara ordered loudly, holding Toph's shoulder's down, "Don't move!" She fumbled uneasily with the blankets. "You need to relax. At least for another day or so." She paused, suddenly guilty with herself, and frowned regretfully. "I had no idea you were this anemic," the healer admitted, more to herself.

"Me neither," Toph answered. "I've only fainted once before, at my parents' house, after the whole…" She stopped mid-sentence and decided not to finish. Katara noticed amusedly that her voice had finally become more feminine. Toph was, at last, a young lady at the ripe age of twenty-two years.

"It looks as if you haven't been to any healers," Katara started, rubbing her arm and avoiding talk of their previous argument. "I mean, it's so, so good to see you"—Toph smiled here—"but I honestly wanted to see you in better health."

"That's good to know," her companion replied timidly.

Katara murmured, "But I don't understand it. Your anemia has been going on for a while, apparently."

Toph shrugged. Her shoulders looked delicate and breakable. "My parents don't believe in healers. They didn't bring them in."

"Why not?"

"Well," the earthbender admitted, "I actually told them I didn't want to see any."

"Why?" Katara repeated. "We do a lot more good than those damned doctors do." She laughed bitterly and gestured in an agitated way with her hands. "Let me guess! They've got you on iron pills and vitamins, don't they? How useless!"

Toph was silent, and suddenly Katara regretted being so cynical at their first meeting. Toph's whole manner took on a reflective quality and she stared ahead of her.

Then the earthbender turned her face and confessed quietly, "To be honest, I was afraid of running into you again."

There were many ways that Katara could have taken this.

What she didn't see was Toph's own embarrassment at admitting it—spurning it out into the open with so little effort.

So mostly, Katara took the whole thing offensively. Her eyes widened a little in surprise and, suddenly aggravated, she crossed her arms and whispered crossly, "I just told you that I'm happy to see you again."

"I know that," Toph blurted, spilling out excuses. "I don't mean it like that, Katara—I swear to God I don't. I'm just saying that…I mean—"

She cut herself off again and felt around for the nearest object, which was typically what Toph did when she needed something for her fingers to chew on. Kya Lynn's bison happened to be the wringing toy of choice in this case and so she grasped the doll firmly and held it in her lap.

"What do you mean?" Katara asked, unintentionally sounding hurt.

She watched as Toph squeezed the bison, thinking. Contemplating. She watched her wedge her lower lip between her teeth. She heard the lodge fall silent and give way to the noises outside.

"What do I mean?" the patient began slowly. "You know you're one of the greatest healers in the world. You know that my parents would have brought you in."

Katara was oblivious. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Ha!" Toph squeezed the bison a little more. "After all the words between us?" Her tone grew submissive when she continued, still thinking this over. She was not one for impulsiveness and didn't want anything to come out the wrong way. "After everything you said to me? And what I did to you…to you and Aang…and now…" Her hands stopped. "Your daughter…"

Time stood still for the second time that day when Katara saw Toph's useless eyes drip water—the way the tears fell from her eyelids and slid down her pale, waxy cheek.

Time stopped and the lodge stopped and Katara stopped and thought—honestly thought and thought—about what had happened those four years ago. She had never blamed Toph. She had blamed herself. But thinking about it now, and seeing Toph cry in front of her, suddenly sharpened the manner.

If Toph had kept her mouth shut after the murders, everything would have turned out for the better. Sokka wouldn't have known. He didn't have to know, Katara thought now, about what she and Aang had done.

And her daughter!

For some reason, when Toph had said this tiny word—this insignificant phrase—Katara's chest tightened and her hand pressed into a fist. Kya Lynn could have grown up with her father around her, hugging her and kissing her and showing her his real bison instead of this little fake one.

Toph wiped her cheek and refused to talk for fear of her voice cracking again.

Katara saw her feel the buttons over Lynnie's doll. Those were supposed to be his eyes. Useless button eyes that were dark and blind. Toph's fingers looked remarkably white and fragile.

"Does she ask about her father often?" Toph asked suddenly, clearing her throat and trying hard to steady herself.

"No," Katara confessed. "She's never asked about him—until Gran Gran died. I don't know what brought it up."

"What is her name again?"

"Kya Lynn," the healer stated monotonously. "It's plain. We just call her Lynnie."

"She must hate it."

"I know."

Toph lifted the furry doll from her lap and held it close to her face, feeling the rough leather stitches that expertly held the thing together.

"Is this supposed to be Appa?"

"Yes."

"You did a good job of it."

"Gran Gran made it," Katara muttered. Inside she wondered who should take the blame for the fight four years ago. She was not listening to Toph talk. She had somewhat forgotten Toph altogether, and the noises outside were dismissed in the same manner. Katara spoke without thinking. "I told her not to make one but she did. Lynnie takes it everywhere and talks to it. I don't know if it's a boy or a girl—it always changes. She even told me that Appa was a pretty name for a girl."

Toph paused uneasily. "Did she give it to me?"

"Yes."

The cot creaked with Toph's weight as she turned her body towards the wall. Her back jolted again but she didn't pay attention to it. Her head was killing her. The atmosphere was killing her. The lodge was too warm and too tribal and smelled of cedar bark. And Katara was thinking.

Katara was honestly thinking.

And Toph didn't like that. Ever.

It always led to bad decisions and poor mistakes and Toph knew, before Katara said anything, that she needed an apology. She felt horrible. Things were coming together too fast and Toph was too weak to deal with it all.

"You just saved my life," the earthbender said to the wall. "You didn't have to, but you did."

"I know."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," Katara said, touching her own forehead. "No one deserves to die. Especially when people love them." She looked at the bison that Toph still held tightly in her hands. "Even my daughter has started loving you," she said, and smiled a little, but didn't know why.

"Thank you," Toph stated fluidly. "Thanks so much, Katara."

"It's okay."

"I hope you know that I'm sorry."

Katara didn't answer. She waited and stiffened her back, as if possessed.

"It wasn't right—nothing was right," Toph muttered. The mere act of speaking was taking a toll on her, but she didn't care. She needed this. This was redemption.

"It's okay," Katara repeated.

"No," Toph said, blinking furiously, "no, it's not okay. I shouldn't have listened to you two in the dressing room. I shouldn't have told Sokka."

"Toph—"

"It was none of my business to begin with." She found the strength to sit up and pull her legs to her chest. The bison sat between her lap and her stomach, listening. "I'm such an idiot. Sokka never loved me. He still doesn't. What would he want with me, anyway? Some freakish blind girl?"

Katara crossed her arms nervously. Toph began to gesture with her hands. They both wondered where the energy was coming from.

"I thought—guess what I thought, Katara, because you're going to laugh—I thought that by some crazy turn of events, by telling him what he wanted to know, he would love me back! And I thought—by listening to you and Twinkle Toes in the dressing room—I would learn something. But I've learned nothing. These past four years have killed me."

"Toph, you really don't have—"

"Nothing's happened. When I listened to you guys I felt gross and when I told Sokka I felt worse. And then I heard you and Aang leaving each other and it killed me. And then Sokka gave me more shit about how I killed Suki. That's why I'm sorry, Katara." Her voice was dying out. Toph's knees gave way and she fell back on the cot soundlessly.

"Toph, you really should—"

Toph exclaimed softly, "I'm sorry. That's why it's not okay. I've told you—I've learned nothing."

Katara placed her hand on Toph's forehead and held it there, noticing the rise in temperature. "It'll be okay," the healer promised lamely. "That's all behind us now."

"You just saved my life," the earthbender finished. "You didn't have to. You could have let me die."

Katara observed her desolately. "I forgive you," the healer answered, as if Toph should have known this.

"But—"

"I accepted your apology even before you said all of this," Katara continued. "I don't think I ever hated you, dear. You've always been like a little sister to me."

Toph bit her lip miserably.

"I would never let you die," the woman stated regardless. "Don't ever, ever think that."

"…Okay."

"I forgive you."

Toph didn't answer, once again for fear of her voice cracking.

"It was all a big mistake," Katara finally added loudly. Her eyes scanned the shut window. "Everyone makes mistakes. It's not like we're perfect—you know that."

"Yes."

The lodge was tossed into another silence. Energies flowed throughout Toph's body in waves. For some reason, both of them felt renewed. The lodge felt fresh and clean—and the air—the cold, bitter, South Pole air—had a promising quality to it now. It moved inside the room and spread itself over the walls, drifted between them like a whisper.

Toph concluded, as she felt her eyes closing, begging for sleep, "You know," she started smoothly, "I don't know why, but I feel so much better."

Katara wiped her face with the back of her hand. "I know what you mean."

"And you know something else?"

Katara stood, noticing that Toph was getting ready to rest and that her presence there was a disturbance. "What's that?"

The girl admitted, lying on her back, "I don't think I ever hated you, either, Katara."

"That's certainly good to know," the healer laughed.

"I mean," the earthbender continued, "you just…saved me."

The waterbender shrugged and smiled, her hand on the door. She said without faltering, "Healer's are a special type of person," and turned to go, before Toph interrupted her again.

"Katara?"

"I'm still here."

"Aang is coming soon."

"I know," the waterbender stated. "Very soon."

Toph was smirking, and Katara almost wanted to laugh at it: it was so perfectly placed. Just seeing Toph trying to tease her made their situation worth while. The earthbender inquired silkily, "Are you looking forward to it?"

There was an uncomfortable pause where Katara shifted her weight. She replied after some thought, "I think it will be difficult."

"He loves you," Toph said immediately. "He always did."

"I know."

"Do you love him?"

"It will be difficult," Katara returned quickly, in order to close the conversation. "I think you should get some sleep."

Toph pulled the animal furs to her chin and held the bison doll close. She nuzzled against he warmth of her pillow and took in the aroma of the lodge. So tribal—too tribal, in fact—but balmy. Harmless. For once in a very long time, her world was beginning to feel comfortable again. The universe was coming together in pieces. Things were falling in place all at once.

She listened as Katara gently closed the door behind her and drifted off into a deep, unconscious sleep.