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Though time and habit forced Katara not to dwell on her loneliness, she sometimes found herself feeling as though she was still fourteen, alone and uncertain on a blank tundra. Sokka's death had arguably been harder than Aang's – he was the only one who knew what it was like to grow up in a circle of some fifteen families, igloos conjoined, not knowing when the next Fire Nation raid would take away more members of the tribe, not knowing how long Gran Gran's health would keep her alive and walking. The dread, thought Katara, was the worst part of the war. Not the damage, not the casualties. Dread was as common as snow back home, back then, when she was young and skinny and when Sokka thought he was president of the whole South Pole.
The dread made them both crazy in their own way. Sokka suffered well into adulthood. He would wake up, reach for Suki in the dark, his eyes wide and his breath sharp. He would walk around their apartment like a mad man, check on the twins in their crib, look over the balcony at the lights and people below. "Good," he'd say. He had insisted to live in a city his entire life, wanting to be where people walked and spoke and breathed. In the city, he could never be alone.
Katara didn't know it, but she went through the same sentimental tick with Aang. It was a habit that would repeat itself in yearly cycles for the decades they spent together. The threat of her old loneliness would bubble up like an old, angry soup, and Katara would wake up gasping, groping for her husband's arm in the dark. "Oh, good. Aang. Good." He would pull her close to his body, stroke her hair with his free hand while the other cradled her shoulders. "Don't ever leave, please," she begged, and though it was too dark to see, he could hear the tears in her voice. "Don't ever leave. Aang. Oh, Aang."
With Sokka and Aang both gone, Katara could only look forward to the occasional visit from her children. Healing patients and teaching at the healing school was enough to keep her busy in her old age, but her body was catching up with her, and her frailties often bit at her heels, a reminder that she was – in fact – no longer fourteen, no longer agile or full of energy. Her back had begun to stoop years ago, her hearing was beyond healing, and her eyesight was fogged with cataracts, a form that she could fix herself if it was ailing a patient, but that she couldn't fix on herself. Her life, full of contradictions and dead-ends, was watered down to this: healing patients, teaching lessons, and haphazardly offering advice when the opportunity presented itself. Death, thought Katara, was welcome. This thought in itself caused her months of frowning and sighs.
Yet, with Korra at her fingertips now, Katara suddenly felt at peace. Aang's presence was definitely in this girl, Katara decided, and the idea that Korra was her late husband's incarnation made Katara smile. Korra looked up shyly, noticed Katara's stare and her smile, and turned her attention back to her lap.
"Am I going to be okay?"
Katara was working on the girl's temples, shifting a string of spirit water through Korra's hair and just over her ears. The uncertainty in the girl's voice assured Katara that Korra's memory was shot – this was not the strong, sure girl running away from home three months ago.
"I'm still checking," Katara said. She tapped the girl's good knee gently. "It feels like two things are causing the memory block."
Bolin, standing at the door, asked loudly, "What two things? Can I come in?"
"It's better that you stay there," Katara called over her shoulder. She said to Korra in a low tone, with a smile, "Are you sure you don't remember him? He's quite a memorable boy."
"I don't remember anything," Korra disclosed. She knitted her brows, her hands kneading the hem of her comforter. "What two things are causing the block? Can you fix it?"
Katara led the water into the small basin she'd toted to the room. The splash echoed, and Katara focused her energy instead on healing Korra's left foot. She untied the bandages and asked Korra to look away. Katara used a deep red tea she had prepared earlier, good for cuts and skin. Korra looked at the tea and her eyes widened predictably. This treatment always looked like bloodbending.
Some of Korra's old mischievousness was beginning to make a debut. She crossed her arms. "How come you still have your bending?" she asked. "I can't bend. Is it because I lost my memory?"
Bolin and Katara looked at one another.
Korra sat up, her eyes frantic. "What? Why are you looking at each other like that?"
"It's Amon," Bolin said, just loudly enough for her to hear him. "A really bad guy. He took everyone's bending away."
"He succeeded for the most part," Katara said. "But he was a bloodbender. So when he came for me, I stopped him."
Korra laughed; it was forced and sudden. Desperately, she tried to sit up further, but the dull pain in her back grew worse, and she sat still, frozen, tears in her eyes. "You're joking," she said, grimacing. "Why didn't anyone stop him? I mean, isn't that what we have an Avatar for? This person clearly isn't doing his job if some creepy bloodbender can waltz up to the cities of the world and just rob every one of their bending!"
Katara raised a brow, the water falling back to the basin. Bolin slapped his forehead from the doorway. Unable to hear anymore, he turned around and left, his footsteps echoing in the small room.
"Korra," the older woman said, "tell me the last date you remember."
The girl was quiet for a few moments, her eyes scanning the ceiling for an answer, before she stated, with acute certainty, "Last I remember, it was August… I was with my parents in their igloo on the northern tip of the South Pole. I was fourteen. I remember I could waterbend. But now…" She looked at herself, covered in bandages, her body far different than what she remembered. The most notable changes were her breasts and hips, appendages she did not recall at all. She blushed and turned her face. "I mean… I don't know. My body. It's different. And it's not just that. I feel like I'm forgetting something important. My name's Korra. I'm from the South Pole. But there's a third piece too."
"You're the Avatar," Katara said softly. Korra dropped her jaw but didn't speak. "I know you don't remember," she continued. "I realize it may come as a shock, but you've known you were the Avatar since you were very young." Katara made a face, her brows downcast, her mouth pulled into a deep frown. This news was disturbing. Having the last two years of Korra's life disappear was one thing. But misplacing her identity? This made the matter more complicated.
Noticing that Korra was unable to speak, Katara continued, "The two blocks right now are spiritual and physical. You suffered a bad blow to the head while battling this man. But your connection to the Avatar State was also severed, possibly because you triggered it while fighting him. I am going to do what I can to ease the physical part – that is my specialty, and I believe you will get better with time. But the spiritual piece of this puzzle is yours. You have to find yourself again…"
Korra was crying, another activity out of her character, and Katara moved closer to the girl and took her into her arms. She patted her back and kissed her temples. Korra sobbed in heaves, her shoulders collapsing, her hands on her eyes. She was mumbling but it was indecipherable, and her tears spilled out from between her fingers, down her face, spotting the bandages and the comforter.
"You will be fine, my dear," Katara promised, holding the girl tight. "You are strong. This whole matter will be settled in a few days, possibly weeks."
"Why?" Korra asked crossly, pulling away long enough to wipe her face on her arm. She cried, "Why me? It can't be me."
Katara looked into the girl's eyes, a strange lustrous color, dark blue and grey, flecks of silver near the rims. The Avatar had to be in there somewhere, Katara thought. It would just take time.
"Be thankful you are alive," Katara said, drying Korra's tears with the base of her palm. "This is the perfect place for you to get better. Amon is dead. You have the world's only bender and greatest healer alive at your service. And you are surrounded by many people who love you."
It was then Asami appeared in the doorway, red-faced, with a small package in her arms.