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 freaking love Aang. I am such a huge Aang fan that it is ridiculous. I'm pretty sure that if he were real, I would kidnap him and keep him in my closet. Or under my bed. So I know that I treat him poorly in this chapter, but it's for the general good of the story.
(Um, yay! Reference to chapter one—go back and read the first line!)
I was never really one for Maiko but I guess it's sprinkled in here in a cutesy little way. I'm also not one for OC's but they're useful. Keep an eye out for the symbolic reference of Aang "contaminating the ocean."
And I PROMISE you that the next chapter will be up quickly. I know you will be anxious to read it. I also know that I'm honestly looking forward to writing it! Love scene, anyone?!
-scorpiored112
.9.
He was not a man of habit, let alone of happiness.
And this whole turn of events was slowly destroying him inside. Aang couldn't deny it anymore—he was not a fighter, and he was sick of fighting. He was not a father—but there was a child calling him Baba in the South Pole. He hadn't been a lover for four years—and seeing Katara again…
Seeing Katara again was like setting eyes on the sun and then drowning in the ocean, blinded and winded and shocked—utterly paralyzed from the shoulders down. Aang couldn't lie to himself and say that he hadn't missed it.
In all honesty, he often dreamt of kissing her again, and how she would take it.
And what she would say.
And if she would kiss him back.
And the size of her mattress in her grandmother's igloo, and if it could still fit two people the way he remembered it did once long ago, when they had done nothing but take a nap in the middle of the day. Aang remembers smelling Katara's hair while she was pretending to be asleep. Then one of her eyes had opened and she had grabbed his face and kissed him. Sokka unintentionally walked in and yelled at them for not putting a "do not disturb" sign on the flap door. All three of them were embarrassed and happy and laughing.
It was before Sokka had started to hate him—before his obsession with Katara dampened to something shameless and dark—before he had unknowingly fathered a child that Katara had raised alone, without his notice—and especially before he had realized what an idiotic coward he was for not fixing the conflicts between them earlier.
Mayor Chang and his many daughters took notice of the Avatar's jittery mood and did everything they could to find out what exactly was bothering him. But actually, every time Fa Ling or the Mayor himself asked, Aang would reply with his daydream smile and murmur, "I'll be leaving soon."
It was mostly because, inside, he was still in disbelief.
The city remained out of shape but Aang no longer cared. He had family duties to attend to, and just the notion of actually having a living, breathing family excited him and drowned him in his Katara-related happiness and his fatherhood-related fears.
He was still obsessed with Katara and found it hard to grasp the concept of returning to her again.
Why else would he have written thirty scrolls and then proudly shipped them off? Why else would he still dream about her every night—feel her breath against his cheek, her teeth against his ear—the ways she usually teased him when they were younger?
Aang wrote on an empty scroll the morning of his departure, It is so good to be in love. And then added, because it looked nice, a little heart with the characters for Katara and Kya Lynn inside. Underneath, I'm a good father.
The way this looked on paper made him smile and so he rolled up the scroll and decided immediately that he would take it with him.
His bags were packed and he had tidied up his room. Aang stood up straight and looked at the sun rising lazily into the clouds—a swell of peace rising. He quickly pulled at his backpack and pushed the door of his room open when he was met, once again, by none other than the mayor's nosiest daughter, Fa Ling.
They both stopped for a moment as the girl blinked uneasily into his chest. Then she stared up at him, rosy-cheeked, and mumbled distinctly, "Good morning, Avatar. I see you have your things ready."
Aang smiled politely and ran a hand through the slight brush of hair that had peeked out of his head in the past couple of days. If he remembered correctly, Katara liked his hair, and that is why he had decided against shaving it.
"Yeah—I'm ready to go," Aang replied joyously. "I'm still missing that shirt I told your mother about, but I guess I'll be okay." He laughed softly to himself. "It's no big deal. Take care, Fa Ling."
The girl looked unbelievably upset when he turned to go. "We've really enjoyed having you with us," she answered slowly, looking up at him. "It's such an honor. It really is, Avatar Aang, I mean, to actually—"
Aang's laughter interrupted her. "I get it."
She returned his hasty bow and, when he had straightened himself, cleared her throat.
"I guess you'll be leaving now."
Aang nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "My daughter is waiting for me," he explained happily. And suddenly, for reasons unknown to him, he touched Fa Ling's shoulder and exclaimed, "Wait a sec—before I go—I have to show you this!"
He rummaged around in his backpack as Fa Ling waited for him. Aang produced a small, hand-crafted air bison doll. It had leather stitches and two large, pink button eyes that stared out of a tuft of even pinker hair.
"Oh," the girl whispered. "It's a lovely…uh, well—what is this, exactly?"
Aang held it up, as if witnessing a phenomenon, and turned it around in his hands. "It's a bison!" he replied cheerfully. "I made it myself—won't she love it? It's pink for a reason. Lynnie must like pink. All girls do." His facial expression hardened when Fa Ling looked up at him.
"Well—all girls do like pink, don't they?" he asked desperately, examining the little bison again. "They have to—I'm sure of it. Pink is a girl color, isn't it? Just for girls—Lynnie has to love it."
Fa Ling handed him the doll and smiled tenderly. "I'm sure she will," she stated, only because that's what he wanted to hear, and because she had taken a special liking to Aang in the short weeks he had been with her family.
"And check this out," he continued, pulling out a large box of chocolates. "That's for Lynnie too—I have a bigger one for Katara already in Appa's saddle. I mean—well, I'm not really sure what kind of chocolate they like. I'm pretty sure Katara liked those strawberry ones—you know what I'm talking about—right? But I got them twenty of each kind that the store had, just to be sure." He looked at the box and frowned. "I might need a bigger size," he added miserably. "Lynnie might like chocolate. What if I run out?"
"You'll be fine," Fa Ling replied dreamily, clasping her hands together. "She'll like these, too."
Aang put the box of chocolates and the doll away. He felt around the inside lining of his tunic and pulled out a small, square box. Fa Ling sighed desperately at the vision and bit her lip.
"You're going to propose!" she exclaimed, hugging him without his consent. "Oh! All of this is so romantic!"
Aang raised a brow as he composed himself. "They'll like everything?"
"Of course—they both will." Fa Ling sighed again and threw her weight on the wall behind her, as if all of these little explanations of love were shaking her. "Katara is so lucky," she added, and blushed and turned her face.
The small hallway outside of Aang's temporary room was silenced for a matter of seconds as he put all of his trinkets away and got his luggage ready again. Aang traveled light and the only thing he was seriously afraid of losing was the ring. Three thousand gold pieces wasn't cheap and—price aside—he knew Katara was going to adore it. She had always liked jewelry.
He gave Fa Ling a final bow and thanked her for listening to his rambling; he explained that he was nervous but not terribly, and that is why he had needed someone to talk to. He thanked her for her comments and hoped she would listen to her father even after the all-powerful Avatar left them.
She thanked Aang for being extremely handsome and romantic—she also commented that the world needed more young gentlemen with his mindset, and blushed for the third time that evening.
Before Aang left, Fa Ling gave him the shirt that he thought had gotten lost in the wash.
She admitted that she had taken it a while ago, but had finally decided stealing was wrong, and wanted to return it to him. Awkwardly—and rather confused and a little disgusted—Aang made his way to Appa and unloaded his things. He saw one of Fa Ling's hazel eyes peering out of a window. But when he blinked, she was gone.
He was going to miss being so closely observed, he thought.
Sunrise gave way to midmorning and Aang flew on his oldest companion to one of the most remote places in the world. His whole trip wouldn't take more than six to ten hours, depending on weather and breaks and other such nuisances. Both Appa and Momo weren't as active they had been four years ago, and Aang knew that he needed to be thoughtful. He considered both animals to be Southern Air Temple antiques that needed to be treated with delicacy and gracefulness.
Two hours passed as Aang looked blankly at the reddened sky above him.
He thought of Katara's letter, which he had also placed in the lining of his tunic. That, and his proposal ring—those were the two most important possessions on this expedition to the South Pole.
She calls you Baba, you know.
You probably think I'm lying, but I'm telling the truth this time.
Remembering this, Aang looked at the box of chocolates and the little bison he had spent days making. He frowned decisively.
Appa grunted in discomfort as Aang steered him to a nearby beach clearing on what looked to be a small Earth Kingdom island.
There, Aang bought more gifts for Kya Lynn—these included, but were not limited to: children's books, more stuffed animals, a whole collection of "Little Miss Mai" dolls that were crafted to look like the Fire Lady, a little pack of false jade beads, a set of scrolls and wooden brushes, and a small, caged, unknown species of bird.
After one hour of shopping, he decided to buy himself a cup of caffeinated tea.
"Lookin' kind of jittery today," the teahouse server commented immediately. "You wouldn't happen to be Avatar Aang, would you?"
"That's me." Aang's voice wavered slightly as he placed his hands on the counter. His face was tight. He mumbled to himself, "There has to be something else I can get—what else do girls like, for God's sake? She could have mentioned that. She barely mentioned anything." He looked up at the confused boy before him and proclaimed clearly, "She really could have told me more. I know nothing. How am I supposed to get her something suitable if I know nothing? She's always been vague like that."
The server looked at him with an open mouth. "Uh…whatever you say, Mister Avatar."
"The problem," Aang clarified, gesturing madly with his hands, "is that I don't say much to begin with. Whatever I do say ends up coming out wrong and that's probably why she left me. She calls me Baba, for God's sake. How the hell am I supposed to know what girls like?" Aang took the cup from his listener and stared into it.
"Uh—well—"
"I think I'll be okay—It's all under control! There's nothing to worry about."
The boy stared, as if bewildered, and touched the back of his neck. "Mister Avatar," he began nervously, watching as Aang's hands trembled. "I wouldn't be drinkin' that stuff if I were you. It's only gonna make those jitters worse. Jitters—or girl trouble...or a hangover, if that's what this is…"
"Two boxes of chocolates is enough. And a bison. She'll like Momo, too. I think I should be fine." Aang added as an afterthought, smiling pathetically, "Yes, I should be fine. What do you think?"
"Well…" The boy held up his hands and sighed. "Just take it easy, I guess." He looked at the counter quizzically and raised a brow. "Mister Avatar, that cup of tea was three copper pieces. You just gave me a blue scroll and some little black box."
"Oh—right. Don't touch that."
Aang fixed the mistake distractedly and gave the server the right amount of change, this time paying attention to what his hands were doing. "She probably still hates me," he mumbled. "What the hell am I supposed to do when I see her? God! This is so confusing. Horrible. I blame myself." He looked up again. "I also blame you. I blame the world. But I got her a ring. She'll like it, I'm sure—though there's a chance that she won't take it. She probably won't even want it."
"…Uh."
"I'm fine! I've already told you." Aang's eyes were twitching uncontrollably. The boy stared at him as though he were some kind of drunkard. "I love her—and she hates me. So it's all under control!"
When Aang finally turned to go, some of the tea spilled out of his cup and landed on his boots. There was a stagger in his step and his face had tightened even more. He didn't seem to notice the tea.
"Mister Avatar!" the server shouted after him. "That girl you're all nervous about better be one hell of a knockout! Will you bring me back a picture?"
Aang didn't answer because he didn't hear him. His head was screaming and his skull was throbbing and only about half of the tea actually made it to his lips.
Appa was saddled with a whole load of new presents. He groaned again in discomfort, but Aang didn't answer. He took off his shirt though the air was considerably colder on the beach. His skin was burning up and when he felt his forehead, he was surprised to have his hand come back to him covered in sweat.
The priority was getting back on Appa to finish the flight, but suddenly Aang felt sick. Nothing was right about his movements—his fingers were awkward—his limbs were strangers—and even his voice was failing on him. The whole universe was fogged, and somehow he knew—without even attempting the process—that no previous Avatar could help him now.
He felt his frame shivering. He put his shirt back on but it didn't stop.
Desperate, he crawled into his winter parka, but that didn't help either.
He cursed obnoxiously under his breath. Waking up early had already slowed Appa and Momo—they were both asleep and suddenly their master envied them. The result was a distressed sigh as Aang sauntered aimlessly along the shoreline.
He watched the water.
Which brought thoughts of Katara.
Which forced his stomach to tighten into bulbous knots.
Aang couldn't take it any longer. He purged his breakfast and the caffeinated tea he had drank moments ago into the water. He observed the pool of vomit underneath him, some of which had landed on the sand, and—sickened with himself—coughed up another round.
He fell to his knees—bent over and grabbed his stomach—cursed some more. His eyes squeezed shut and refused to let the midday light enter him, refused to look into the ocean that he had just contaminated. He couldn't stop trembling, and when his stomach had emptied itself, he merely gagged flavorless saliva and tried hard to keep his clothes clean.
Everything ached. Even his crotch and thighs started stinging him, commending attention to a somewhat dormant part of his body. He repeated, over and over again, "What is wrong with me?" and actually expected a response.
But the squawking of the unknown bird he had just bought was the only noise besides his own.
The rocks that were set on the beach were smooth and when the ocean's water crashed against them, they made soft, muffled noises that melted into a loud, avoidable silence.
Aang collapsed into a fetal position and moaned into the sand—drunk with imaginary evils that he had somewhat forgotten until this instant.
No longer a fighter or a father or a lover—but a child. Forced to grow up too soon and too fast and in the wrong universe. War had stained him. His hands reeked of Hakoda and Suki's blood and it no longer mattered—nothing mattered. No amount of presents would fix things. No amount of tearful confessions or letters or admittances would bring Katara back to him.
And his daughter!
It was for Kya Lynn that Aang staggered to his feet and wobbled uneasily to Appa, reviewing the gifts he had just recently purchased. The bird squawked in its cage restlessly and woke Momo, who joined in the chirping—Appa grunted and countless waves crashed against the shore. Aang held his ears shut and shook his head.
"Quiet!" he cried helplessly. "Momo—shut it, will you?"
His lemur chirped and cocked his head to the side.
"God—you're driving me crazy! All you ever do is make noise! You know what? Here's something—you're grounded!" Aang blinked and crossed his arms. "Go to your room, young lady."
The Avatar's shoulders slackened. Indeed, he was aware of this new, violently ill state he had just entered, but the world was dark and filmy and he no longer cared about what he was doing or if his clothes were clean; the beach was abandoned and talking often helped him think and reason with himself. He took a deep breath.
"Don't try to argue with me," Aang warned, pointing at the animal. "It's no use! No—Katara, don't try to soften the matter! The girl's eating too much candy!" He paused reflectively and shut his eyes. He nodded to himself. "Well I know that I'm the one who bought the chocolates in the first place"—he punched his chest with both hands—"but the girl needs some discipline…listen, Katara, why don't you just…well—I don't mean to...and even if you think of—darling, those are obviously crocodile tears."
Aang glanced quickly at Momo. He forced his voice down an octave. "Never mind your mother! I said: go to your room. Now."
Suddenly his face took on an exhausted quality to it. Aang feel to his knees and touched Appa's nose. He looked at the bison lovingly and cooed, "Don't listen to your mother. You can get your ears pierced if you really want to. You'll look lovely either way, Lynnie. Now, Katara, why do you have to be so strict?" Appa made a rumbling sound inside of his throat. "Don't worry, Lynnie. Baba's here. Katara, leave the girl alone, will you? So what if she's had too much candy?"
He wobbled over to the screaming bird and pressed his face against the wire cage. "Is this how it's been for four years?" he asked the feathered brute. "I should have been here sooner—your mother is acting horribly. Pay no mind, darling. Come sit in my lap. I brought you chocolates. Play with your 'Little Miss Mai' dolls, Lynnie. They were expensive. But not terribly. Come on now."
And then in an act of blindness and stupidity, Aang opened the cage and watched as the bird darted out and flew away. It immediately stopped screaming.
Watching this, Aang seemed to wake up. His rambling trailed off and left him in a confused and altered state of mind.
He realized the matter now. Nothing had changed—he was still nervous, and he still felt sick. But it was almost evening, and the priority hadn't changed either. He knew he needed to get back on Appa to finish what he had started.
He left the empty cage and the bag of bird feed on the sand, far from were he had gotten sick and emptied his stomach. Appa obviously detested the added weight and Momo detested the loss of his newest singing companion. The noises no longer bothered him. Aang knew now that he only needed two things: his purpose and reason. The scroll and the ring.
He took off into a darkening sky without looking back. And then for some reason he thought about Fa Ling's promises.
You'll be fine.
Katara is so lucky.
By the time he arrived, the South Pole snow had taken a bluish hue because of the darkened sky hovering above it. The ice was somber and nearly soundless. Aang felt like a thief with suspiciously acquired gifts as he trudged through the tundra, still a mile away from the village.
But he remembered only this: it was so dark, and when she appeared, he wondered briefly how she had known he was coming.