cognitive dissonance
The comfort Katara finds in Aang's arms quickly shifts to embarrassment. She's more or less trapped there now, unable to break the spell and wishing the hand softly stroking her hair didn't feel as soothing as it does.
When she lets go, she'll have to face the moment, stare it down. Thank him or answer his questions or endure pinkened cheeks and stammering (from both of them).
She draws it out as long as she can. After a minute, he lifts her, hands tucked beneath her knees to carry her away from prying eyes and into a tent hastily offered by a nearby merchant. In that darkened space, she finally releases him, and pretends she doesn't miss the imprint of his body against hers, his lingering warmth.
His eyes are on her, concerned, confused. And, yes, cheeks pink. She speaks before the stammering can start.
"I'm sorry," she says quickly. The embarrassment is so tangible, so palpable, it hurts. "I've never had to- I didn't know..."
Now, they both know - and so does everyone else- that she'd kill two people without hesitation, and that she'd fall to pieces immediately afterward.
Aang clears his throat. "You did what you felt you had to do."
She forces back a sob.
"You did," he insists. "Nobody's ever tried to hurt you like that before, have they?"
"Only sparring."
"This is different. It's a difficult situation. Impossible to say what should have or could have been done differently-"
"Seeking comfort in your arms when I'm supposed to be protecting you probably could have been done differently."
That blush again. When she realizes what she said- how she said it- she blushes, too. Her eyes drop to the floor.
"I didn't... mind," he murmurs.
A polite answer, but his eyes flicker to hers, and there's something growing under her heart that makes it hard to draw a breath. Makes her panic, makes her wish she were somewhere else. Avoid the feeling- don't look at it too hard.
"I killed them," she whispers instead, because it's another big feeling taking up space in her chest, and somehow it feels easier to deal with this than the other thing.
His moves for her, like he means to take her in his arms again, but stops himself, his face twisting with some emotion. Her stomach drops when she realizes its sympathy. He feels sorry for her.
"It's- I don't... no one blames you," he says.
"Really? You didn't kill anyone." Her tone is harsh, dubious, but she crumples a moment later, arms wrapped around herself as she bends over to keep it all in.
Guilty silence, and with a pang she realizes she's making him feel bad for showing the mercy she should have shown. For doing what she herself should have done. A bitter laugh burbles out of her, hiccuping and raw, and suddenly, he looks even more alarmed than when she was only crying.
The thought comes in a rush.
"You're too good for me," she says before she can stop herself. Another escaped laugh follows. "Spirits, I never thought I'd say something like that."
He doesn't look amused. "Me, neither. It's not true, anyway."
"Have you ever killed anyone?"
He stares down at his hands. "Yes," he murmurs.
"What happened?" she asks, then falters. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry."
"Maybe I'll tell you, one day. But, if it makes you feel any better, I reacted similarly to you." He frowns. "Worse, actually."
"It does make me feel a bit better," Katara mumbles.
A huff of biting amusement. "Glad I could help."
She takes a step closer to him. Does she deserve his friendship, the honor of protecting him, after this? After she failed so spectacularly, made a fool of herself and of him, too? The Avatar's Waterbending Master should be made of sterner stuff. And yet, he's looking at her like he'd pull her into his arms again if she'd let him (she won't), and that feeling returns, the one she tried to ignore. Suddenly, she's floating on the crest of it instead of diving deep. For a moment- with his eyes on hers, that concerned tilt of his brows- it doesn't feel as terrifying. "Thank you," she says.
He steps closer, too. Drawn in, maybe, by the softness of her voice, by the way she's more vulnerable now than she ever has been. His hand reaches for hers and she thinks she understands; this moment, the things crackling in the air between them, seemed to make more sense when she could still feel the warmth of his body against her. The tips of his fingers brush the back of her hand.
Light and the late summer breeze flutter into the tent, and Sokka and Suki are there, blowing past the fabric and crashing into the space with the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.
If Sokka saw, or noticed, he says nothing, only pulls Katara to him tightly. "Are you okay?" he demands, holding her at arm's length. "I couldn't find you after- Spirits, Katara, you scared me."
"Sorry," she mumbles, and when her eyes flash back to Aang's, she can feel the moment drifting away.
The festival comes to an abrupt end after that. It's challenging to resume festivities after disaster strikes, and as Katara is sitting in the chair in her room a few hours later, she can hear Oyaji berating Suki and her warriors in the street below.
"How could you let them escape?" he demands. "How will I explain this to the Earth King?!"
She should be helping, instead of lounging. Or sulking, as Yue would call it. She's not helping anyone curled up in an armchair with her arms wrapped around her knees.
Her mind hardens. She's better than this. She can overcome this.
She is out the door a moment later.
Suki spots her as she's leaving, waves her down, and Katara skids to a halt in front of her.
"I'm glad I ran into you," the warrior says stiffly. "I wanted to talk to you, if you can spare a moment." She dismisses her warriors and gestures for Katara to follow.
Katara does as she asks, arms behind her back, her bottom lip between her teeth. The warrior will no doubt tell her what she already knows. She steels herself for the harsh words. It's what she deserves, after all.
But Suki surprises her. "I'm sorry," she says. "You warned us about a threat to his Holiness. I should have taken it more seriously."
"You're apologizing to me?"
"I'll apologize to his Holiness when I see him next, but he's been busy helping calm some of the vendors-"
"No, no, that's not what I mean. I mean... you defended him. You went after them. You kept a cool head when I-" She trails off, embarrassed.
Suki stares for a long while, eyes guarded, and Katara wants to curl inward under her scrutiny. The warrior is what Katara wishes she could be- confident, strong. And Suki was an up close witness to Katara's failure. "Sokka told me what happened. Why you were upset." A gloved finger taps against the polished leather of one bracer. "There's no shame in showing mercy, and no honor in taking pride in wanton damage. A warrior should kill only if necessary, and there should be no joy in the act. You're a warrior, Katara, and today's lesson was the hardest a warrior can learn. Be kinder to yourself."
Katara doesn't know what to say- understanding is the last thing she expected. She nods briskly, eyes down.
Suki chucks her under her lowered chin. "His Holiness is lucky to have you- you're lucky to have each other. Take good care of him."
In a flash of green silk and polished armor, the warrior is gone, leaving Katara in the street with nothing but her words to ponder.
They leave Kyoshi Island the following day, amidst apologies and a great deal of hand-wringing from Oyaji. Sokka places his bag in Appa's saddle- grumbling under his breath about the unnatural act of flight- and jumps back down to say goodbye to Suki. The pair walk some distance away (no doubt to keep the sweeter half of their bittersweet parting private, Katara surmises with amusement).
She's leaning against the low wall of the saddle when Aang drops down next to her. He keeps a careful distance- has since yesterday- and she doesn't know what to make of it. "Ready to leave?" she asks, more for want of something to say than any real curiosity.
"I hate leaving under these circumstances, but there's not much sense staying." He picks at a scuff on the hardened leather, and draws a deep breath. "Are you... alright?"
"I'll be okay," she says. She means it.
Sokka returns (his breathing conspicuously ragged) and scrambled up Appa's tail. He tucks into a sturdy corner, nestled between two packs. "Ready," he announces grimly.
His shouts of displeasure are likely heard on the other side of the island as the bison leaps powerfully into the morning air.
Gaoling is a week's flight away, and Katara is grateful for the time and distance. After the events on Kyoshi, there is an air of uncertainty following them that she just can't seem to shake. She hates it. Before, traveling with Aang was something peaceful in its way, quiet. A home on the move, in a strange sense.
He's too gentle with her, too cautious after those stolen moments in the merchant's tent. And although the intention is appreciated, all she wants is move past it. His attentions rapidly grow tedious, and by the second evening of their journey, she's had enough.
Sokka is stoking the fire to begin cooking dinner, and Aang hovers on the periphery, still wary and unsure of the newcomer and how he should behave around him. He meditates on a nearby rock, sun-warmed and surrounded by tall grass. Their ordinary antics- the wry jokes, the common thievery- tend to slow a little when they're in mixed company, but Sokka presents an even more complex change to their dynamic that Katara can tell the Airbender doesn't know what to do with.
Personally, Katara is determined to change nothing. It took months for she and Aang to grow comfortable with one another, and that time spent at each other's throats forced them to accept the other at face value- a privilege that's been denied to her most of her life. She has no intention of going back to the way things were. She strides over to Aang, and tilts her head toward the brackish creek behind her in invitation.
"Are you sure-?"
She shoots him a withering look. "Am I sure about Waterbending?"
"I just don't want you to feel pressured to do anything before you're-"
"Get in that creek, Aang, or so help me..."
Sokka watches the exchange in alarm, and the alarm only grows at the ferocity of their sparring match. It isn't that Katara has something to prove- she knows she's more than capable- but the match provides the opportunity for a reminder. That she's strong, and powerful. Still human, of course, still ready to crumble, but just as ready to build herself back up stronger.
She doesn't give Aang the opportunity to be gentle, and he is forced to respond to her ferocious attacks in kind. By the end of the match, the creek bed is awash with water and mud, tree limbs missing and craters in the earth scattered here and there, big enough for Sokka to lay down in. They're filthy and sweating and exhausted, but grinning, and the wall between them- that careful caution- is broken.
It takes the entirety of the trip for Sokka to stop speaking with unnecessary honorifics. On the fifth night, while Katara reads by the fading sunlight in her tent, she can hear a muted conversation between her brother and Aang.
"It's a Southern dish, your Holiness," Sokka is saying. "Normally made with sea prunes or salmon if you can get it, but it tastes just as good without the meat."
"It's delicious," Aang says politely. His Avatar voice. She feels a swell of irritation. When they're traveling, he's supposed to be just Aang.
He goes to bed shortly afterward (Sokka won't let him do the dishes no matter how many times he insists he wants to help), and Katara stomps from her tent while her brother is scrubbing the pot they picked up in Kyoshi's market.
"Stop calling him that," she says without preamble. "He hates it- I know I've told you that before. You're making him uncomfortable."
Sokka sets the pot down, frowning. "I'm sorry. I don't want him to be uncomfortable, I just- I don't know how I fit in to this equation, Katara," he admits. He shakes his head. "It's like the two of you are speaking in code all the time, when you bother to communicate aloud at all. I don't know what to do with it."
"You're only reinforcing that isolation by insisting on that stupid custom," Katara counters harshly. "If you won't stop calling him 'Your Holiness', then I'm not going to respond unless you start calling me 'Master Katara'."
"No disrespect to your many accomplishments, but I will not be calling you that."
She jabs a finger at him. "This is the only time he gets to be himself, and not the version of him that everyone else sees. The greatest respect you can show him is to not interfere with that. His name is Aang. Use it."
Sokka is still glowering at her the following morning, but when Aang asks to help clean up after breakfast, her brother hands him the dirty pot with a tentative smile and says, "Sure... Aang."
Gaoling is hot. Katara always forgets. It's location as a port city never fails to trick her into believing there will be a lovely breeze off the water, a cool, temperate place to relax. Instead, it creates an oppressive wave of humidity that settles over the city like smoke. Her tunic and leggings stick to her unpleasantly, and they are in the city for an hour before she decides that a change in outfits is essential for her mental health. She leaves Aang under Sokka's careful watch, and marches down the main street, coin purse in hand.
She's perusing the selection in a high-end boutique when an older woman- clearly wealthy- glides in, greeting the shopkeeper in a sing-song voice and airily demanding the services of the seamstress. The woman has a bevy of handmaids and servants trailing behind her like sheep to a shepherd, but Katara starts with surprise at the young couple that drifts in after everyone else. The young man is missing his right leg, replaced instead with a strange-looking contraption of metal and wood. The young woman at his side keeps her head down, hiding clouded green eyes.
Blind, Katara thinks immediately. She recognizes the cloudiness of the irises from an illustration in one of Yagoda's books, though she's never seen it in person before. The girl is diminutive- she can't be taller than five feet- but muscles flash under the sleeves of her tunic that bely her small size.
She's still lost in thought, pondering the causes of that kind of eye condition (congenital, most likely), when the young woman stomps unerringly over to her, easily avoiding the tables of fabric and racks of ready-to-wear dresses to stand before Katara with her arms crossed.
"What are you looking at?" the girl demands.
Blunt, Katara thinks wryly, and ready to fight. She's burning with curiosity as to how a blind girl caught her staring, but she can admit that she was also being impolite. "You," she answers honestly. "Your eyes. I'm a healer, so it was professional curiosity, but I apologize for being rude."
The young woman frowns, clearly not expecting Katara to openly admit to her mistake. She chooses another topic. "What are you doing in here, anyway?"
"Shopping," Katara explains. "I'm not dressed for this weather, and I was looking for something to wear that's breathable and easy to move in."
Whatever answer this woman is expecting, it wasn't that. A dozen expressions flit across her pixie-like face, from disbelief to irritation, finally settling on mild interest. "Ask my mother. Fashion is her forte." Without looking, she points imperiously with one finger directly at the wealthy older woman, still chatting happily with the owner and seamstress on the other side of the shop.
Katara wrinkles her nose. "Something tells me that your mother and I are not operating on the same budget."
"Perceptive. She's not operating on the same budget as most people. Or even on the same planet."
A snort of amusement. "At least she's nicely dressed."
"Don't admire her too much," the girl warns, "or she'll think you're another charity case and offer you a job as a chamber maid. You won't care what she wears when you're washing her back every night."
"I appreciate your concern, but I have a job already."
"Not with Poppy Bei Fong." The girl makes a wide, demonstrative arc with her hands, dripping in sarcasm. "She's the darling of Gaoling."
Katara smiles, hopes the girl can hear it in her voice. "And who are you?"
"Toph. That's my husband over there, Tao."
At the sound of his wave, Tao walks over, surprisingly nimble, and greets her with a wide smile.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Toph, Tao. I'm Katara. Maybe you can help me find-"
Toph's eyes widen. "Did you say 'Katara'?"
A pause. "I did."
She is wondering if she made some kind of mistake- if her name was recognized, if she's put Aang (or herself) in danger- when Toph grins.
"Finally," she says triumphantly. "Do you know how long I've been waiting?"
"You've been waiting for me?"
"Not you, specifically." The tiny girl actually bounces with excitement. "Come to the Bei Fong estate before dinner time tonight, alright? And tell his Cosmically Majestic Holiness that he better be ready to train."
She bounds out the shop door without another word, leaving Katara dumbfounded. "What just happened?" she asks no one in particular.
Aang insists on wearing his nicest kasaya, the one with five sashes instead of the usual three, and Katara and Sokka find themselves obligated to match his level of ceremony. Sokka pulls on his finest tunic, trimmed with hand-carved wooden beads, and Katara secretly delights in the opportunity to wear a dress she'd purchased that very day. After the shopkeeper caught her rubbing the fine fabric between her thumb and forefinger with longing, she convinced Katara to take it home.
"Just treat yourself, dear," the older woman had murmured. "Wouldn't it be lovely to wear something so fine?"
The only other dress Katara has is her mother's, which she adores, of course, but Gaoling's heat makes the decision between the two easy. Her new dress slides on like water, the silk smooth and cool against her skin, and suddenly she recalls that it matches the beads Aang gave her on Kyoshi Island perfectly. After some nervous deliberation, she braids them into her hair.
When she leaves her room, Aang looks up from his idle inspection of the vase on the foyer table, and starts with surprise. His hip catches the table corner, sending the vase shattering on the floor.
"Nice," Katara notes dryly. "I'm sure that wasn't expensive."
He slides the shards away with one foot. "You're wearing the beads."
"Oh... Yea, I am." She hopes to sound nonchalant, but she can feel blood rising to her cheeks.
Sokka makes a noise of disgust from behind them. "Let's go," he says, stomping past irritably.
In size alone, the Bei Fong estate puts even the Northern Water Tribe Palace to shame. Probably in staff, too, because everywhere Katara looks, there is a servant, a chef, a gardener, a guard, all hurrying from one place to another like the cogs of a well-oiled machine.
"Spirits," she breathes, "how much money do they have?"
"Their wealth is rivaled only by the royal coffers in Ba Sing Se," Sokka mutters under his breath. "Lao Bei Fong's great-grandfather built most of the highway system for the Earth Kingdom, and Lao himself is a famous engineer and entrepreneur. Textbook 'old money'."
Guards guide them into something that looks suspiciously like a throne room (they're not royalty- she asked), and they all bow low in greeting to Lao and Poppy Bei Fong.
Lao leaves his seat immediately, gliding to Aang and placing a hand on his shoulder like they're old friends. "Avatar Aang, how honored we are to host you. I must admit this visit comes as a surprise- we were disappointed to miss you at the Earth Kingdom summit this past summer."
Aang's smile is as vacant as his response. "The pleasure is mine, of course. These are my associates, Katara, my Waterbending Master from the Southern Water Tribe, and her brother, Sokka, ambassador of the same."
"What brings you here?"
"Me." It's the young woman- Toph. She marches into the room like she owns it. Her husband Tao follows behind, and though he is smiling, there is something less warm about him than when Katara last saw him. "They're here for an Earthbending teacher."
Lao blinks, his eyes wide. "My daughter-" He presses his lips tightly shut. Then, he pulls Toph into a hug, drawing her close as Poppy Bei Fong appears to wrap her arms around them both.
"You bring honor to our family name," Poppy chirps, her eyes watering. "We couldn't be more proud."
When they release her, Toph marches right up to Aang, lengthens her spine to her full five-foot-nothing height, gives him a wide smirk, and says, "Well?"
He bows low. "I'm honored to make your acquaintance, Master Toph. I hope we're able to come to an agreement that suits both of us."
"Oh," she says wickedly, "I think we'll get along fine."
They spend a week in Gaoling while Aang and Toph hammer out the details of her employment. Katara hates the weather, but it's difficult to complain; they stay at the Bei Fong estate in the absolute lap of luxury. She doesn't see much of Aang or his new prospective teacher- busy as he is with negotiations- but later in the week, she discovers that her early morning schedule, and her love of quiet, secluded places, is shared with Toph's husband, Tao.
He is tucked away under a pagoda surrounded by sweet peas, the aroma so alluring Katara is certain it drew her there with some unknown magic. She steps lightly into the pagoda, and there he sits, attention focused on a book on the aesthetic principles of architecture. His false leg rests against the lattice railing, and when he sees her, he hops over to it, as if to hurriedly reattach it.
"I hope you're not doing that on my account," she says gently.
He pauses, smiles sheepishly. "It makes some people uncomfortable."
"Good thing none of those people are here now."
"Yea," he chuckles, "good thing."
They sit quietly, Tao pretending to read his book and Katara pretending that the silence is comfortable. After a while, though, Katara can't bear it. "I hear from your mother-in-law that you intend to stay behind. Is that true?"
The smile fades. "If circumstances were different-" a guilty look at his leg- "I might have tried harder to join. But, I have a lot to occupy my attention and time here. My father works for Lao- that's how Toph and I met- and she and I have our own interests to look after. A school she wants to found. I'm working on developing a blueprint for it. It's going to be state of the art- I'm working on improving the indoor plumbing-"
He babbles on and Katara listens intently, nodding here and asking questions there. She gets the sense that he finds the conversation reassuring, and she can't blame him- imparting one's wife to the company of strangers for an undetermined amount of time would be daunting.
"Well, that's all well and good for you," she says, "but... won't you miss her?"
Tao bobs his head. "I will... but I'm happy for her, too."
"We'll do our best to return her to you in one piece," she promises reassuringly.
He laughs again. "I'm more concerned about you returning in one piece. She's rough around the edges but she has a good heart, underneath it all. Try to remember that when she's getting under your skin."
Toph and Tao's goodbye isn't flashy. A quick hug, a squeeze of the hand, but Katara finds it sweet and intimate. Moments later, Toph is kicked back comfortably on Appa's saddle, and they're off, leaving Gaoling (and its miserable temperatures) far behind them. They don't have anywhere in particular to be- for once, their next engagement being the Tribal Meeting in the North Pole, over a month away.
When Aang politely asks Toph if she has a place in mind for them to begin Earthbending training, the girl shrugs and blithely replies, "Anywhere there's rocks."
They settle in one of the deep canyons on the outskirts of Omashu a few days later. Rocks to spare.
"Alright," Toph says, stretching as Katara and Sokka unload the packs from Appa's saddle. "Let's get to work."
Katara is as shocked as Aang when it becomes obvious that the nuances of Earthbending elude him. He copies Toph's positions, devotes the whole of his attention to her teachings. Meditates, tries, and tries, and tries again. The rocks remain deaf to his efforts.
Tao's note on Toph begin to make more sense, because the more Aang tries and fails, the sharper Toph's tongue becomes. "I've never nudged anyone gently in my life," the Earthbender declares when Katara suggests a lighter touch in the classroom setting. "I'm not about to start now."
By the end of the week, though, Aang and Toph hit a stride, and while he doesn't take to Earthbending the way he did air and water, he makes notable progress.
She's proud of him, of course, but the canyons of Omashu offer about as much water as the Great Desert, and she finds herself pushed to the wayside. That, coupled with her new role as a captive audience to Toph's teaching methods- wildly different from her own- makes her approximately as pleasant to be around as a sabre-tooth moose-lion. The longer they stay, the shorter her fuse becomes. Sokka starts to avoid her altogether, all but hiding behind Toph, who, while not precisely uncaring about Katara's sore temper, is also completely unfazed.
"Are you dehydrated, is that the problem? You guys came and found me," the girl says brusquely one afternoon. "If you don't like sharing Aang, you probably shouldn't have invited me."
Katara sputters and fusses and stamps her foot, marching away to a little secluded spot- a narrow gap in the canyon walls that opens into a high-ceilinged cave- and cursing the hardheadedness of Earthbenders. Eventually, though, in the seclusion of that cave, she comes to a realization that stops her anger in its tracks.
Toph is right.
Damn her, Katara thinks angrily. She doesn't want it to be true, and obviously won't admit it to anyone but the lizards currently keeping her company. But it's true, nonetheless.
Before Sokka and Toph joined, she and Aang spent their time alone, answering to no one but each other- and sometimes not even that. They'd come to depend on one another, to understand one another- tilts of heads and quirking eyebrows serving in place of entire dialogues. With their new companions, a head couldn't tilt and an eyebrow couldn't quirk- long glances couldn't be exchanged- without Toph or Sokka grumbling irritably about it.
She misses him. Misses his proclivity for thievery, for pranks, for general chaos that makes spending time with him- even doing mundane tasks- thrilling.
He doesn't act that way with other people around. He's more formal, less himself. More like the Avatar he never wanted to be.
Predictably, her epiphany does little to improve her mood, and after a while, she stomps back to the camp as the sun is dipping below the horizon, to help Sokka with dinner in an attempt to take her mind off things.
"We're out of food," Sokka announces the moment she returns. "We'll have to go into the city tomorrow to get more." A wrinkled nose in Toph's direction. "I underestimated how much a fifty pound girl would eat."
"I am one hundred and twenty-seven pounds of pure muscle, thank you very much," is the Earthbender's lofty reply, "and I need fuel."
"Well, no fuel for tonight. Sorry."
Katara climbs a raised ledge and hides there for the rest of the evening, knees tucked under her chin as she watches the fire burn low. Sokka and Toph are discussing machinery- animatedly- when she hears pebbles clacking to her right.
It's Aang, crouched on the edge of her ledge. The fire makes his face look fiercer than it really is, turns his gray eyes black. "Hey," he greets her.
Her head drops back to her knees. "Hey."
"Haven't seen much of you this week," he notes quietly, sitting down next to her.
"Not much need for a Waterbending Master in a rocky canyon."
"Doesn't mean I don't want the Waterbending Master around."
She feels some of the jagged edges of her temper rounding down a little bit at this admission, and scoots closer, giving him a once-over. She hasn't seen much of him, either, and her eyes drink in the sight of him like water. He's shifted from his Air Nation kasaya to a sleeveless linen shirt- one that had sleeves at the beginning of the week, she recalls.
"Where's the rest of your shirt?" she asks.
"Under a rock at the bottom of a gorge."
After he mutters something about being lucky he's not under the rock himself, she takes a closer look at him. He has bruised bags under his eyes, and cuts and scratches all along his hands and arms.
"Aang," she murmurs. "Are you alright?"
"Just tired. Battered. Bruised."
"Tired, I can't help with," she says. "But battered and bruised..."
He looks at her questioningly, and she indicates with one hand to the cuts on his hands and arms. When he nods his agreement, she reaches far to pull water from the pitcher near the fire. A few minutes is all it takes to soothe the angry scratches and dark bruises on his arms and abdomen, and then she moves to his hands, drawing them into her lap for ease of access. There's a scab across his knuckles, and a strawberry on his left palm. She swipes her fingers across them both gently, water pooling in the dirt below.
"That's better," she says when she's finished.
His voice is low, almost sleepy. "Thank you."
His hands are still in her lap, and without thinking, she draws her thumbs across the backs of them. He stills for a moment, eyes darting up to hers. They're both sitting cross-legged, leaned so close together that their foreheads are almost touching, and for a moment she can almost forget that Toph and Sokka are arguing about the uses of steel versus iron ten feet below them.
She looks down at their intertwined hands, at the golden glow of his skin in contrast to the russet of hers. "I've missed you," she whispers. A confession easier to make when she's not looking at him.
"I know. Me, too."
"What are you two doing?" Toph demands suddenly from the fire. "Are you holding hands?"
Katara drops his hands guiltily. "No," she insists. "Just healing some cuts."
The Earthbender's response is a dubious grunt. "Well, come down, Aang," she orders after a moment. "Time for a good night's sleep. Can't believe I'm saying this, but you've earned it."
Omashu's market is packed, the sun beating down on sweating bodies, and the threat of the Red Lotus returns to Katara's mind in full force. The relative safety of the canyons caused the threat to drift out of focus, but she feels it again, feels her heart thudding uncomfortably in her chest. Toph and Sokka bicker good-naturedly about the food they plan to buy, and Katara sends them off to do their shopping- but not without a stern reminder of the threat they face.
"It could be anyone," she warns. "Please, pay attention, and come find us if anything feels out of place."
Toph wraps her arm around Sokka's neck- a miraculous feat, considering he's well over a foot taller than her- and tells Katara not to worry. They're out of sight moments later.
"Well," Aang says with a quirked brow, "looks like we have the morning to ourselves."
The smile she sends back to him is the widest in weeks.
They spend the morning wandering the markets. It feels like before, Katara thinks as Aang sweet-talks a woman with a pastry cart into giving him a free moon cake. He offers to split it with Katara, but as she's reaching for her half, he stuffs it in his mouth suddenly, laughing around a mouthful of dough and red bean paste, "Share my spoils? What, are you crazy?"
The morning is like a step back in time- like the weeks they spent walking from Gaoling to Chin, just two adults with no (remembered) responsibilities, set loose on unsuspecting Earth Kingdom citizens. Katara feels freer than she has in a month.
Aang is gambling with a street scammer- who swears that he's running the only honest gig in Omashu- when Katara spots Toph and Sokka making their way down the street. She waves at them to flag them down, but Sokka can't see her around the packed bodies, the crowd moving with the flow of traffic. Grumbling, and with her eyes still trained on Aang, she goes to follow them and haul them back.
That is, until she hears their conversation.
"They're in love," Toph is saying, aghast.
"It's not that bad," Sokka defends. "They were alone together for months and nothing ever happened. At this rate, they may never."
"Unrequited?" she gasps. "You bastard."
"What was I supposed to do?"
"Warn me, at least. How do you sleep at night?"
"A lot better now that you're here, actually, because it's not just me and the two of them anymore..."
They keep walking, blissfully unaware of Katara and her existential crisis as she halts in the middle of the street, mouth open.
Love? Is that what they think?
She laughs nervously, drawing strange looks from passersby as they part around her like a river around a stone. "Love?" she asks aloud. "That's... impossible."
But she's remembering that feeling- the one under her left ribs when he held her in his arms on Kyoshi, or even last night, with his hands in her lap. "I've missed you," she'd murmured, but he's been with her the whole time, so what did she really mean, exactly?
Her fists clench. Her jaw tightens. "That is impossible."
Really, though, a small voice awakens in her mind. Is it?