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: There is no way I can express to you how much I appreciated the various private messages sent to me in regards to this fiction. I apologize gravely for the wait and—in an effort not to bore you all with my silly little life problems—give this chapter openly and proclaim in plain view that I am already working on the next one.
This chapter is admittedly much shorter than the other twelve.
-scorpiaux
.13.
Sokka sat cross-legged in front of Kya Lynn and smiled at her. But he stumbled back when the girl pounced on him and hugged his shoulders and neck tightly, greeting him with a warm, slow kiss on the cheek.
But she caught herself and then remembered, pulling away from him with a brush of pink over her face. She laughed awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.
"Sorry, Sokka," she began, voice cracking and face just barely regaining color. "It's just that...it's just...really good to see you again."
"I've missed you," Sokka replied, holding her at arm's length. He searched her eyes suddenly, realizing that they had fallen into a bright silvery color—much brighter than before. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in reference to her reincarnation. "When we were on Black Crane's Rock a few days ago?"
Lynnie's shoulders shrugged and then she took to fixing Sokka's collar, pulling it upward towards his ears. "I've been busy," she said. "I've learned a few things. There are facts you need to hear about before Kya Lynn takes over completely."
Sokka's voice was tight. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," the girl informed, still fussing with the collar, "that I've found some information that may prove itself useful to us." She looked up at him, heart heavy, and sighed in a distressed manner to herself. "This is going to sound bad," she warned. "But I can't mince words right now, Sokka." Her expression was distant. When the words came out again, they were slow and thought-provoking. "I want revenge. I've been thinking about it ever since I woke up here. Who would have imagined? Katara—my mother! Or Lynnie's mother." She shook her head. "For a long time, I couldn't say anything to her. I kept phasing in and out of the Spirit World. It was disgusting..." Lynnie trailed off and shrugged again. "I always knew life wasn't fair. But it hurts...because death isn't fair either."
"I know it isn't."
"I loved you," she said on impulse with a sad, vague smile. "I loved you more than anyone I had ever met. But that was my last life cycle—to see you. To know you." She sighed inwardly once more and bit her lower lip. "Each cycle we see something new. We learn something...But I loved you so much, Sokka."
"I know you did," he replied, trying to cope with the fact that his four-year-old niece was the messenger. "I loved you, too, Suki. I still do." He hesitated. "...I always will."
"No," Lynnie muttered. "No, Sokka. Please don't say that."
He was taken aback at this, but said nothing.
"That was my last cycle," she clarified. "When I was Suki from Kyoshi. Now I'm Kya Lynn from the Southern Water Tribe."
"What are you saying?" he asked blatantly, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
Lynnie stood up and pointed to Sokka's chest. "You can't keep loving me. It won't be worth anything." Then she sat on her knees, smoothing the cloth over Lynnie's small, thin thighs. "You have Toph now," she reminded. "And it's time we both forgot, Sokka. It's time to put this all behind us."
Her words angered him. Sokka's blue eyes flashed in her direction, catching her gaze and holding it with his. His fists tightened. "Toph won't replace you," he said, but it sounded empty and frightened—as if the anger he was feeling meant nothing. He put his hands on her shoulders and faced her. "For God's sake! How can you even think that? Do you think I can just—just...leave you? Just forget?! I'm not that heartless!" He fought to regain control of his tone. "Suki," he mumbled, "how could you?"
"You aren't being realistic" Lynnie commented in response to this. Sokka noticed that her voice was growing higher, pushing between Kya Lynn and Suki. The girl stared at him, fiercer this time, and stated factually, "I'm not saying Toph has to replace me. Just that she's herefor you now. She's available. She needs someone and so do you, and I'm fond of her, Sokka. I always was." Lynnie paused and then stated, as if remembering something, "And please don't give me that shit about being heartless!" She shook off her uncle's hands and stood up abruptly. "If you had anything inside you at all, Sokka, than you would have prevented this from happening." She held her arms out and gestured about the living room of Katara's igloo, which was just as barren as it was four years ago. "Look at this place!" Suki's deep voice demanded. "Look what you've done to your sister, Sokka! Look at what you did to me." The little girl pointed to herself. "Kya Lynn—from the Southern Water Tribe—this next cycle—didn't know her father for the first four years of her life because of you! Because you couldn't forgive."
Sokka's eyes narrowed when he turned his face. This admittance bothered him. For once in a very extended period of time, he wished that he was deaf and blind and mute—unable to see what the world had thrown at him.
"Lynnie wasn't able to bendall this time, Sokka, because she was haunted with the tormented reincarnate of a non-bender! Haunted because—instead of trying to do something about the damn bastards who killed me and your father—you gave up and pouted! You should have taken action! You were supposed to be the leader—you should have done something."
"What was I supposed to do?" Sokka screeched crossly, fighting the urge to tear up. "Two of the most important people in my life were killed. I couldn't face them!" He threw his arms into the air, gesturing with his hands. "I couldn't even think clearly!" he exclaimed. "Things were happening too fast—I...I could have...I should have—I..." He bit his lip miserably and looked up, using the only technique he knew to prevent himself from crying. His niece recognized this deliberate motion almost immediately.
Lynnie rubbed her eyes and said, at a much softer volume, "I'm sorry," though she knew she didn't need to apologize. But in this, they both new, was a new chance. A different set of actions that would provide a more acute outcome. Lynnie looked at the man before her and blinked. "You can still avenge me," she started. "And Chief Hakoda."
Sokka had fallen in on himself, knees up with elbows resting on top of them, head down. She heard him choke back a sob before he looked up and wiped his face and asked desperately, "How?"
She touched his shoulder; her hand felt dense and cold—heavier than it should have been. "There were two," she said, ignoring the confused expression on his face. "I've gained insight since then. I thought they were men, but they weren't. One man, one woman. The woman was still young and he had pressured her into doing it. She was the one who cut your father's neck." Her voice was shaking. She looked at her shoes and continued hurriedly, before the urge to converse wore away, "The man...caught me off guard."
Sokka also diverted his gaze angrily. He mumbled a string of curses and swears that went on indecipherable.
"Sokka," the girl answered quickly, "I don't have much time. Just listen to me." Since her voice was fading, she moved close to his ear and whispered with some difficulty, "This is impartial," she began. "Look for an orb and a line. They are still planning something, because we are together now. Or rather...you guys are together now." Lynnie grimaced suddenly and sighed, touching the fabric over her stomach, as if a sharp pain had struck her there. "Not much time," she pressed. "Katara and Aang both know who I'm talking about—Agh! God...this—this is starting to hurt."
"What can I do?" Sokka asked, once again out of desperation.
"Forget it," she said. "Forget about me."
"Suki?" The warrior's voice was overstrung. "Suki—Suki, talk to me!" He shook the child again, harder than before. "Suki! Don't leave me yet. Please. Suki!"
But when he looked at Lynnie again and held her shoulders in his fists, the silvery tint in her eyes had brushed into a dull gray. Her expression was visibly slackened.
And the igloo, in the medium-sized expanse, underneath the dome that Katara had bended to protect herself and her daughter from the gossiping women of the tribe, seemed to empty out. The chill returned and blew fiercely on Sokka's face. Lynnie, meanwhile, in her uncle's grasp, blinked a few times and then asked her Uncle Sokka if he could please pass her the tea cup that was half full. She was thirsty and hungry and told Sokka she'd like some fish for breakfast.
"Fish?" the warrior asked, searching the child's face desperately. "But—you were just...I was just...we...were..." Sokka made a face. "Suki?"
"What's a Suki?" Lynnie asked innocently. She wiped her running nose on her sleeve and looked up at him. "I need a tissue," she said, wiping her nose again.
It had ended just as quickly as it had began, forcing them both to remember the things in this reality. Sokka was curious as to what he needed to do now, and Lynnie was curious as to what her uncle was about to do. For a short time, they said nothing to each other, and settled in this quiet understanding of things beyond their comprehension.
"Right," her uncle murmured finality. "...Uh, don't do that...with your sleeve." He revealed an embroidered handkerchief from his front coat pocket and pulled at Lynnie's nose awkwardly, making a face when the cloth returned to him wet.
"Thanks!" the child exclaimed, sniffling. Then she looked about the igloo and back to her uncle again, noticing a red tint in his eyes. She cocked her small head to one side, sending the two braids to single shoulder. "Uncle Sokka," she stated quietly, "are you okay?"
He pressed his hand over the bridge of his nose. The low couch they were seated on suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable. "I'm fine," he calmed. "But it looks like you're getting sick, Lynnie. I'll tell Katara to make you something warm to drink." He swirled the remaining tea in Lynnie's glass and looked up at her again. "This is cold," he observed.
"I'm not sick!" Lynnie protested, taking the handkerchief from her uncle and blowing into it again. She blinked a few times and inhaled deeply, as if about to sneeze, before wiggling her nose and trying to stop it.
Sokka put his finger under her nose to aid in the effort. But Lynnie sneezed regardless—sneezed to her full extent, sneezed as loudly as Sokka had yet to hear from her small, delicate frame.
When he opened his eyes, he was plagued with two images.
The first—a recollection—of a boy he met ten years ago, who had sneezed in a similar manner and sent himself flying.
The next image of a large hole in his sister's abode, right in front of him—his clothes blown to one side, his hair yanked out of its makeshift binding, and Lynnie...Lynnie wiggling her nose outside, as he saw her there, through the very hole in the igloo, sitting in a pile of snow, laughing like a small and mischievous imp.