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Chapter Text

Excerpt from Republic City Times

BREAKING NEWS: THE AVATAR IS DEAD

November 14, 131 AG

Avatar Aang, 42, has passed away. In an official statement from the United Republic Council, the Avatar passed due to an undisclosed illness that he had been battling for some time. Sources close to the Avatar say that he was surrounded by friends and family, including prominent leaders in our new Republic. Avatar Aang, the lone survivor of the massacre of the Air Nomads, the hero of the Hundred Years War and founder of Republic City, is survived by his wife, Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, 43, and their three children: Lieutenant  Bumi of the United Forces Navy, 22, Master Kya, 20, and Master Tenzin, 17.

The Avatar and Master Katara’s son, Tenzin, is now the only living air bender.

Representatives of the family have asked for privacy at this moment and those close to the Avatar have declined to comment. The Avatar’s obituary, written by Master Katara, will be published in the coming days. There will be a funeral where the public may pay their respects next week.

While it is nontraditional, all of us at Republic City Times are wishing the Avatar’s family the deepest condolences. Many of us here at the paper owe our lives to his heroic efforts and all of us are able to write freely without fear of prosecution in the Republic because of his work. Thank you, Avatar Aang. You will be deeply missed.

Any efforts regarding the search for his successor have not been announced.

135 AG, four years later

Tenzin read the letter again.

He drummed his hands against the table, letting each knuckle rap against the smooth wood as he took in every word. The sound bounced off the walls of his office, breaking up an otherwise baited silence. It was late, too late to be in City Hall, even for him. At first, when the door knocked, he thought it was Shane, the janitor, coming to take out his trash. But Shane went home at 2:30, and it was well past three.

He took in a long, tired breath.

“And you’re sure?”

Tenzin leaned forward in his chair. He looked up at the man who had been standing, silently across his desk with a complicated resolve. He needed to get a good look at his face, at his eyes, to know if he was telling the truth. There had been a few false alarms over the years, and Tenzin wasn’t risking another one.

“You’re absolutely positive?”

“Yes.” The messenger spoke without hesitation.

He was a junior member of the White Lotus. He’d risen through the ranks fairly quickly for someone without an inherited connection. Tenzin had met him a few times, though they’d never spoken directly until now. It struck him now that he was fairly young- though not as young as him of course, no one was in their work. Not anymore. But be it his lack of experience or his youthful pluck, the man seemed nervous under Tenzin’s gaze. Normally, this kind of thing irritated the Airbender, but today he appreciated it. They should all be nervous tonight.

“It’s been confirmed and reconfirmed by our sources.” The messenger said, standing up even straighter.

Tenzin looked back down at his desk, plucking the letter from a smattering of scattered pages. Among them in front of him was a bill he’d been drafting when the messenger came in. It had been his entire life for about a month, but that didn’t matter anymore. Tenzin knew right then and there that he’d be putting it and all of his other outstanding duties in a box and shoving them into the hands of a poor, unsuspecting Actolyte tomorrow morning. The council had said it was too soon for anyone else to take over, and until about an hour ago Tenzin was inclined to agree. Not anymore, though. He wouldn’t touch that bill for the next month, at least. Probably not even until next year.

“Who knows?” Tenzin asked. He slouched back in his chair, letting his feet poke out from behind the desk. How his father fit his looming body in this tiny room for all those years he’d never know.

“Only the members of the White Lotus who corroborated it and you, sir.”

“Okay.” Tenzin chewed on the inside of his cheek. After a few moments of silence, he cleared his throat to voice his first, and possibly only thought he’d had since unfurling the scroll. “Was… Master Katara one of the sources?”

“I’m not sure, sir.” The messenger replied. Tenzin sat up, slightly in his chair.

“Can you find out?” He asked, swallowing back a bite in his voice.

“Yes, sir.” The messenger said.

Tenzin nodded, and returned to the letter. This piece of paper should have looked almost identical to the other scrolls, but he could almost feel the energy radiating off of it, like the ink knew of its importance. The letter was written in code, a code delicately and secretly crafted nearly two decades earlier, and yet reading it now it felt too simple. It felt like it was glaring at him, taunting him. Like the message was clear as day.

“We’re…” The messenger, who was still standing in position, shifted his feet from side to side. “We’re waiting now for you call on how to proceed, sir.”

“My call?” Tenzin raised an eyebrow, gesturing with the scroll. “This mission was entrusted to the White Lotus. I’m not a member.”

“Until this is officially announced, you are still presiding over all matters regarding the… this mission.” The messenger corrected.

Tenzin ran a hand over his head. Perhaps it was a foolish notion to think that any of this could happen without him. In fact, he knew it was. Even still, it was nice to live in the fantasy of sending this man away and returning to his work like nothing had happened. Like the rest of his life had not just arrived at his door.

“Fine.”

“Should we alert the United Alliance, Master Tenzin?” The messenger asked, warily.

“No.” Tenzin said, sitting back up. The man’s idea all but snapped him out of his spiral of self-pity and loathing. He pinched the bridge of his nose, scanning his brain for the contingency plans he’d memorized years ago. “We cannot make this public until we’ve secured her safety. The UA is too big. This must be handled with immense discretion. Alert only senior members of the White Lotus. All mail should be delivered in person and then destroyed.”

“Of course.”

The messenger nodded, a new assuredness seemed to overtake his frame. He met his eyes with a serious understanding. Tenzin wondered, briefly, what he wanted from all of this. To join the White Lotus was no small feat, and to rise through the ranks would take a lifetime. It was comforting in a sense, to know with some certainty that they would likely cross paths many times again. Maybe one day, three decades from now, they could remember this moment together with some levity.

“We should continue this discussion in the morning.” Tenzin decided. “I’m sure you’re exhausted by your travels, you should rest. Let’s schedule a meeting with the rest of the team for first thing in the morning.”

“Of course.” The messenger bowed. “Goodnight, Master Tenzin.”

“Goodnight.”

Tenzin waited until he heard the footsteps fade away to sink back into his chair. His head should have been swirling, his hands shaking, but none of it came. His body felt numb, like all that it happened just passed through him. He was in shock, he realized, belatedly. It would all hit him in the morning. It would knock him down like a wave and leave him mangled and raw. But tonight it hadn’t quite settled.

Sighing longer and lower than all but one person alive, Tenzin forced himself to pick up the phone. The night was far from over. It was a new phone, one of the first of its kind. It was the kind of thing his father would have hated in his office. But it wasn’t his anymore. It was Tenzin’s. And he needed to make calls. Each click of the button, each press of the number rung out through the room, like an odd song or the clatter of his great-grandmother’s ceremonial beads.

“Uncle Sokka?” Tenzin said, upon hearing a groggy hello?

“Hey, I know it’s late but I need you to come to my office.” Tenzin continued. A small tremor found its way into the air bender’s voice, one he wasn’t anticipating. It was as if hearing his uncle’s voice flipped a switch in him, like it wasn’t real before now. “There’s a… situation.”

An ache squeezed Tenzin’s chest. He could practically feel nervous silence that had settled in the static. Sokka was waiting.  The airbender glanced back to his desk, back to the scroll that had already changed all of their lives, even if they didn’t know it. He took a breath and closed his eyes, prepared to recite the code back to the man who had crafted it. His mother always thought it was a little on the nose, but his uncle insisted that Aang would have loved it. 

“We’ve cracked the ice berg.” 

Chapter Text

Excerpt from Republic City Times

Aang Memorial Island Opens to the Public

November 11, 132 AG

This weekend will mark one year since the death of beloved founder of Republic City and hero of the Hundred Years War, Avatar Aang. To honor his memory, the Council of Republic City commissioned the construction of Aang Memorial Island off of Yue Bay. The site will be a museum that is open to the public and features rich histories including that of the Air Nomads, of Avatar’s past, and Aang’s work to build the Republic. The museum will also include some pieces of Aang’s clothing and personal writings which have been donated by Air Temple Island.

The museum, which open on November 14th to commemorate his passing, will be inaugurated with speeches from the Avatar’s close friends and family. This opening will feature the first public appearance for many prominent world leaders since Avatar’s funeral, including the Chief of Police Toph Beifong, who has taken an extended leave of absence, and Fire Lord Zuko, who has not made any official appearances outside of council meetings in over twelve months.

Others in attendance include Crowned Princess Izumi of the Fire Nation, master fire bender and sole heir to the throne. It has not been reported whether her rumored fiancé, Prince Kaito, will be in attendance. 

Our sources have not been able to confirm if Avatar Aang’s wife, Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, will be in attendance. Master Katara has not been seen in the United Republic since her son, Master Tenzin’s, school graduation last spring. Aang’s oldest children are not set to attend, as sources claim Lieutenant Bumi of the United Forces is currently deployed and Master Kya is reportedly working aborad.

Master Tenzin, 18, the youngest son of Avatar Aang, has been confirmed to attend, making his fifth public appearance as the only living air bender.

Three years later, 135 AG

Sokka was away when Aang first got sick. He’d been in the North Pole, visiting on a diplomatic mission for the South, trying to inspire camaraderie between the poles. It was apart of a multi-step, decade-long plan to solidify unity, if not legislatively than through trade and cultural exchange. He had no intention of combining the administrations, but getting everyone on the same page would produce a strong voting bloc. They had similar problems, required similar solutions, but had too many years of prejudice and resentment to see it. 

He was in a meeting when it happened. It was slow-going and unproductive. Aang always said that politicians spent hours talking and minutes actually communicating with one another. This was one of those times. Sokka’s aid came in quietly, bowing to each member as they passed. He’d been assigned this assistant when he arrived, a symbol of respect and good faith. He’d told her that she could sit in on as much as she wanted and help with drafts to gain experience, but otherwise he didn’t need much from her and didn’t want to waste her time with lunch orders. Also, he told her that she should only interrupt a meeting if someone was dying, everything else could wait an extra few minutes.

Sokka would never forget the look on her face as she wove her way to his table. She was clearly trying to keep it together, but the hike in her shoulders and the shake in her hands told him all he needed to. She tried to tell him in the hallway, but he quickly told her to wait. When it came to his family, things had to be handled delicately. Too much was at stake if one of them was in trouble.

Suki was on the line. Telephones like these were relatively new, but Sokka had ensured that one was installed in every major government building across the world, though he never anticipated what would technically be a personal call.

Her voice shook with an uncharacteristic tremor as she describe what happened. Aang had fallen during a training session with Tenzin. Just collapsed out of nowhere. He was awake now, but it was clear was very wrong. Sokka needed to come back. He asked what they knew. Suki said not much, that Katara was still working. But what she said next, her private, secret suspicion, would ring through his mind until the end of his days. It was the kind of gnawing thought, the kind of thing you didn’t dare ponder until well under the cover of night.

“But…” Suki hesitated, taking a careful breath. “He seems… calm. He seems prepared. I think something’s been wrong for a while.”

He didn’t believe it. Not at first. He also couldn’t believe that Aang couldn’t be saved. Be couldn’t accept that his time in the ice counted and thus his cosmic clock had run its course. But of course, it didn’t matter what he wanted. And in the end they watched him slowly drift away over the course of several months, as the spirit world took more and more of the man he’d known for thirty years until his soul found its way into someone else.

Sokka was in charge of all contingency plans. He had been since the war. He made plans with Aang, with Zuko and Kuei and Arnook and his father. He made the call not to tell the world until he was gone. He made the call to start the search a year later, though he wasn’t expecting results. He and Aang were the ones who put Tenzin in the Avatar’s council seat. They’d sent Tenzin in Aang’s place before, he seemed to be the only person that could justify speaking on behalf of the Avatar and the air benders. It was messed up that Bumi and Kya weren’t on the list, but after a world leader as integral to their shaky peace dies as Aang was, Sokka didn’t have time to debate the ever-present socio-cultural debacles of bending politics. They never objected, of course. They’d lived their lives as the second and third fiddle to their baby brother and his spirit-sent gift. They didn’t even ask.

Loosing the Avatar decades earlier than anyone expected was a global nightmare. But loosing Aang nearly destroyed his family. It was like a bomb went off, scattering them in different directions of anger and pain. His sister fled for the South Pole. Bumi took up a three year deployment at sea. Zuko didn’t come back to the palace for months.

Tenzin stayed in Republic City, of course. Sokka did too, he had to. The Republic had been Aang’s dream, he couldn’t bare to see it fall apart. Toph stayed too, though he was fairly certain she’d been planning to take her children and leave before Aang asked her not to. Aang had talked to each of them, privately, before he passed. Before their conversation, Toph was looking to sell their apartment, and after, she stopped. Sokka didn’t know what he said, and he didn’t know if he wanted to.

It was Sokka’s decision, to put Tenzin in power, to give him the desk and his father’s title, that made him the first to hear the news. By the time Sokka arrived to City Hall that night, the air bender had already brought out the very contingency plan that put him in that office. He looked so painfully normal, standing in his robes, his arrows practically glowing under the moonlight. He was comfortable here, already habituated to this warped reality. The first time Tenzin came to a meeting, when he was just recently thirteen, he’d looked like a fish out of water, unsure of his footing. But now there was no question this was where he was supposed to be. Sokka swallowed back a pang of guilt and fell in line.

The first thing Tenzin needed surprised him. He needed him to tell his sister.

Kya was the wildcard. She always had been, really. She was her mother’s daughter through and through. She had her passion, her fire and the generational anger that came from being a child of a lost people. But she had her father’s instincts. His patience, his kindness and his inclination to run.

In her defense, she tried. She stayed in the South Pole for a few weeks with her mother. She sang the mourning songs and cut her hair and prayed. But it didn’t last, it couldn’t. She had to go.

First, Kya worked in a clinic in Ba Sing Se. Then she returned to train in the North. And was taught by sages in the Fire Nation. And apprenticed with healers in the swamps of the Earth Kingdom. She never stayed in one place longer than a few months, but she always wrote home. Tenzin had her address on file, a small mobile clinic outside of Gaoling. It would take a day to get there.

Sokka didn’t ask why Tenzin didn’t want to get her himself. He knew why. It was the same reason he hesitated on the phone, why he could barely look at Sokka as they walked through the next steps, why he deflected every ask after how he was feeling.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

It was too early. Aang’s robes still carried the smell of sandalwood and incense from his morning meditations. It was all too soon. It was all too much. He couldn’t tell his sister. He’d have to face all of it if he faced her. That, and the fact that ever since their father’s passing, he and his sister couldn’t seem to spend more than an hour together before fighting. They were never on the greatest of terms in childhood, but it seemed like Aang’s absence only made it exponentially worse.

Sokka was on the first train the next morning. He spent the ride trying and failing to come up with a way to break the news. He could barely believe it himself. The rest of their lives had  begun. There was some relief in it, that she’d been found. He hadn’t met her, but he already knew her parents. They were nice people. They felt too young for this, but he supposed he’d been young too. Age didn’t help. It didn’t prepare you for loving an Avatar. None of it felt particlarly good, though. It just felt weird. Different.

Sokka’s heart pounded in his chest as he reached the clinic. It was operating out of a school, with tents set up on the field and in different classrooms. People wove around him without a second look as they rushed to their patients. Kya was doing good work here. And he was about to completely derail her day.

He saw her before she saw him. She was working on an old man with an injured ankle. He looked like he was in his sixties, a decade Aang never got to see. Sokka thought whenever he saw someone older than forty-two, himself included. It was unconscious. He was almost vengeful on his friend’s behalf. He’d been the same way when he surpassed his mother in age. Kya didn’t seem to mind, though. She was smiling as she worked, and the man seemed at ease under her care.

“Is there a healer I can talk to?” Sokka cleared his throat, wrapping a hand on the doorframe after she seemed to reach a stopping point in her care. “I’ve got a bad case of missed-my-niece-itis”

“Uncle Sokka?” Kya gasped. She rushed to hug him, almost knocking him back. Her years of training had made her into a real powerhouse. Their enemies should count themselves lucky she had vowed to take a path of nonviolence.

“Spirits, look at you kiddo.” Sokka pulled back, squeezing her shoulders as he took in his niece. She was wearing a traditional healer’s smock, the same kind his sister wore, with her hair pulled back in a traditional Water Tribe style. She was completely in her element. “How are you?”

“Fine, but what are you doing here?” Kya asked, raising an eyebrow. Sokka sighed. There would be no easing into this.

“Can we go somewhere to talk?”

Kya’s eyes widened with some sort of recognition. Silently, she led him to an emptier part of the school and found a vacant classroom. The room was tiny, only a few desks, chairs, and a chalk board. Kya leaned against the teacher’s desk. As soon as he closed the door behind him, any air of calm composure had dropped.

“Okay, what happened?” She asked, her arms crossed. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything is okay, but I have some news.” Sokka assured. He took a breath, collecting the loose speech he’d crafted on the ride over. “Kya, what I’m about to tell you will feel surprising. But-”

“They found her, didn’t they?” Kya cut him off. Her voice was even, her tone almost apologetic.

Sokka blinked. He couldn’t have heard her right.

“What?”

Kya straightened, unfolding her arms and let them drift to the side. Her eyes were wide with a wisdom he’d only seen in one other person.

“The Avatar.” She said, taking a step towards him. “That’s why you’re here. They found the Avatar.”

“Did Tenzin-” Sokka sputtered, his mind racing. 

“No.” Kya shook her head, bringing a hand to her temple. The assuredness that seemed to overtake her had dissipated, leaving a far more anxious water bender in its wake. “I don’t know why I know I just…” Kya took a breath, trying to explain. “I had this weird dream and I thought it was nothing but obviously…”

Sokka nodded, trying and likely failing to mask the unease that washed over him. Thirty years into this gambit, the idea of the Spirit World, of the magic of the universe and the powers that controlled it, still completely and utterly freaked him out. But in hindsight, he shouldn’t have been that surprised. Aang’s propensity to commune with the other side was not only because of his status as the cosmic bridge. It was hereditary, passed down through his air bender roots. There was no reason that it shouldn’t extend its terrifying reach into his children. Tenzin was going to be so pissed it wasn’t him.

“The White Lotus confirmed it a few days ago.” Sokka started, brushing past the confession he had nowhere to put. He switched into his more professional voice as he laid out the facts, which was far more comfortable. “Her name is Korra, she’s a four year old girl in the Southern Water Tribe.”

“The South?” Kya asked, a familiar flicker in her eye.

“The South.” Sokka nodded, swallowing back the lump in her eye. It was maybe the only exciting, only uncomplicated piece of this news. The Avatar was from the South. The Avatar was from their village in the South. Sokka may be uncomfortable with the way the universe had its claws in his family, but there was no denying this was Aang’s work. His last gift to Katara. And maybe it was wishful thinking, but Sokka hoped he’d been thinking of him too when the decision was made.

“She’s shown water, fire, and earth. Shockingly early.” Sokka continued, leaning against one of the desks. Kya did the same.

“Not air?” She asked, hesitantly. Sokka had the same question for her brother.

“Not yet… How are you, little bird?” Sokka asked, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder as he broke out an old nickname. “I know that this is a lot.”

“How’s mom?” Kya asked, instead of answering. She was deflecting, and Sokka decided she’d more than earned the right.

“She’s good. She’s really good, actually.” Sokka admitted.

He’d called his sister after he met with Tenzin. It was around five o’clock in the morning, but he knew she’d be up. Their normal sleep schedules had all gone out the window for at least the first year. They talked for about an hour. Mostly about the girl. Katara had met her the day the found out, insisted upon it. And because she was his sister, she’d already fallen in love with that little mess of curls. Sokka hadn’t known what to prepare for, they’d never talked about what it would be like to find the next Avatar, but apparently he didn’t need to prepare for anything. Katara had found it in herself to love her, and that was the end of the story.

“Tez and the rest of our family is being informed this week.” Sokka continued. He’d talked to Suki and was set to see Toph and Zuko in the coming days. He wasn’t sure if he was dreading it or excited. Sokka chewed on the inside of his cheek, debating on whether or not to say the next part. “We uh… we haven’t been able to get ahold of Bumi.”

“Figures.” Kya said, letting out something between a huff and a laugh. She stood up, stretching out her arms as if to shake out all that had settled during their conversation. “Okay. Do I have to do anything? How does this work?”

“You get to do as much or as little as you want.” Sokka explained. “There’s no rule book for this but… you should prepare yourself. When the news breaks, we can’t control how people will react.” He’d made a promise when they were born that he wasn’t going to mince words with his nieces and nephews, that he’d treat them with the respect and trust he’d craved as a child. Two and a half decades later, it seemed to be working out.

“What does Tenzin have to do?” Kya asked, putting a hand on her hip. “I imagine it’s not as much or as little as he wants.” She said, ruefully. Though she and her brother rarely saw eye to eye, when it came to his role, to the burden that had been sloughed onto him by chance of birth, she and her older brother were unwaveringly protective.

“It’s not.” Sokka sighed, apologetically. “I’m going to the South in a few days. There’s no pressure, but it could be… grounding to be there right now.”

“I’ll go.” Kya said, quickly. Sokka was almost certain she was going to say no, but he was grateful to be wrong. Ever the wild card.

“Great.” Sokka nodded.  “I’ll get you all of the tickets and specifics.”

“Thanks.” Kya gave him a small smile. A familiar anxious energy settled in her frame. He could see it in the shifting of her feet, in the hitching of her shoulders. It was eerily similar to the kind that festered in Aang after a long day of meetings. Sokka recognized it as the urge to flee.  “I… I think I need to get back to work.”

“Of course.” Sokka nodded, starting towards the door.

Kya paused her hand lingering on the door knob. Once they opened it, they’d have to appear normal, act like this conversation never happened. This would be the news that defined the decade, there was no room for error.

“It’s all going to change now, isn’t it?” Kya’s voice was hollow with a resigned understanding. This was the beginning of a new era, and with it a retiring of the old. Her father wasn’t the Avatar anymore. And they’d all have to face a new one with open arms.

“Yeah.” Sokka sighed. “Yeah, it’s all going to change.”

Chapter Text

Excerpt from The Daily Chatter

Trouble in Paradise? Fight Between Republic City Royalty Turns Heads

June 4th, 133 AG

Last night, patrons at Li’s Noodle House reported a loud fight between two of Republic City’s nepotic darlings, Master Lin Beifong and Councilman Tenzin. Though their respective families have kept them out of the public eye, rumors surrounding the nature of the relationship between the daughter of the Chief of Police and the son of the Avatar have swirled since their tenure at Republic City Secondary School, where both received top marks. Beifong, now reportedly at the top of her class in the police academy, was rumored to have thrown a drink at the newly appointed Councilman, who has recently inherited his late father’s position, before storming off.

Sources close to the pair have declined to comment on the nature of the argument and their romantic status, though it can be speculated that recent events may have complicated their relationship. As Councilman Tenzin is the last air bender, it is likely that the pressure to have children, something that has been publicly discussed since his bending skills were announced nearly fifteen years ago, can only have increased. Given Beifong’s aspirations and Tenzin’s new role, it is a reasonable assumption that the Avatar’s untimely death may have thrown their timeline off course.

Tenzin and Lin Beifong have not been seen together since their fraught meal. If you have any tips, please call into our gossip line.

135 AG, Two Years Later

Lin drummed her fingers against the briefing room desk. It had been a slow day at the station, the kind that made her miss her old beat in the twisted way nostalgia blanketed even the most mundane of memories. Detective work had been her dream since she could have one, but it didn’t mean that every day was like her fantasy.

Her team was stuck. They’d spent the better part of four months meticulously tracing clues, getting closer and closer to having concrete evidence against the leaders of the Terra Triad- but last week the trail went cold. It was an ambitious project, going after the founding families instead of their lower ranking thieves, but one Lin and her coworkers had, until recently, believed they could do.

Lin was exhausted. She didn’t like to loose, and she could feel the case slipping from her grasp. She could picture her mother’s reaction when they gave their report at the morning briefing tomorrow. She would tell them to just keep trying, to find a new angle. She would be patient in the infuriating way she always was, and it would drive Lin slowly insane.

Lin didn’t want a new angle. She didn’t want something different or out of the box. She was a woman of order, of routine and rigorous preparation. She wanted the plans she’d crafted over months to work the way she’d intended.

The lead detective on the case was putting up another map of downtown Republic City, pinning the spots they’d already searched for more clues with blue push pins. It was most of the board. One of the other members of the team began placing red pins on the places they hadn’t looked for any leads. There were only three bright spots in a sea of blue. Lin slouched in her seat. They’d need to come up with a new plan.

She was about to offer to interview their contacts again, when a clatter in the bullpen caught all of their attention. There was a scuffle outside, two voices growing louder and louder as they approached their conference room. One voice they all recognized belonged to their receptionist, Layla, and the other-

Fuck me. Lin cursed under her breath.

The detectives tensed, each reaching for their wires on instinct. Lin did too, but for a very different reason. She’d recognized the second with an unfortunate dread instantly, from the first muffled tone rang out.

The other voice was as familiar to Lin’s as her own. For most of her life, that had been a blessing. Though now, it was like a warped curse on them both. The earth bender’s heart skipped a beat. She should have seen this coming. Should have felt him before he even got through the doors. There was only one person alive that could sneak up on her.. There was only one person alive that could sneak up on her.

Tenzin rapped his hand on the door before opening it wide. Layla, spirits bless her, was behind him, nearly out of breath and rambling an apology. It seems the commotion was due to her noble yet unsuccessful attempts at corralling their visitor. It didn’t matter what she was saying, though. Lin couldn’t hear it. She was too consumed by the anger brewing for the man, the boy, who’d interrupted their meeting. She felt every detective shift their gaze to her. She sat up in her seat, forcing every muscle of her body to appear unfazed.

“Hi.” Tenzin gave a quick smile to the room, before turning back to her. “Lieutenant Beifong, could I borrow you for a moment?”

“We’re in a meeting.” Lin said, flatly.

One of the officers, a new guy, coughed, masking a chuckle. She knew why. Republic City loved to talk. It was good for police work. Terrible for breaking up with possibly the most famous man in the world. She’d get the rookie back later this month when they ran division-wide drills.

“I’ll be brief.” Tenzin nodded, entirely unfazed by her curtness. He gave that stupid crooked smile, as though he’d already won. Lin crossed her arms.

“Is it an emergency, Councilman?” Lin’s supervisor, the head detective, asked. He’d cleared his throat before he spoke, as though he was interrupting something. The head detective had commanded the room seconds ago. In a handful of words, Tenzin had turned the entire room on its head. That thing he had, that kind of control, the kind you possess by merely existing, was something she used to envy. Now it made her sad.

“Well not-” Tenzin stammered.

“Is it an emergency, Councilman?” Lin asked again, firmly. Tenzin’s mouth formed a thin line, which she still knew he’d lost, and he didn’t want to admit it. The detective sighed. “Okay then. Whatever it is, I’m sure you can wait it until we’re done.”

“I’ll be outside.” Tenzin nodded. To his credit, he left without another word.

After a few awkward shuffles, the meeting resumed as planned. If anyone had any particular feelings about Lin telling the last air bender to wait outside while they finish discussing their failing case, they didn’t make them known. Lin tried to push him out of her mind, but thoughts of the news he carried gnawed at the edges of her brain as she re-read the cold case files. Tenzin was many things. He was arrogant, self-sacrificing, stubborn, rude- she could go on. But the one thing she still admired, the one thing she could reconcile with, was that he knew that work came first.

Even more, he knew her work came first, always. Out of everyone, he’d always understood that best. Even better than her, sometimes.

Tenzin should have known that that would be her answer. That she’d never leave her team, leave a meeting, unless it was urgent. He’d never had that kind of power over her, not even when she’d marry him. Whatever secret he was carrying was not only bad enough that he came slinking to her, but it was so unanticipated, so confusing, that it had rattled him. And Tenzin didn’t get rattled. Not like this.

When the meeting finally ended, Lin was the first out of her chair. She was almost eager to learn what terrible problem had fallen onto his plate, what insane issue had come about that he’d seek her help. Still, Lin took her sweet time waltzing over to the waiting room. She didn’t need him to know about her curiosity.

Tenzin didn’t let her saunter for long, though. As soon as he saw her he was up and speed-walking to her side.

“Okay Tenzin,” Lin started. “Why are you- wait-”

Before she could even ask, Tenzin had gone past her to the first open door, their briefing room, and scanned the inside.

“This room looks empty.” He muttered to himself. The air bender stepped back out, grabbing her hand with a familiar squeeze before yanking her inside. “She’ll be right back!” He called, closing the door with a touch too much force.

Lin barely registered that any of it had happened. Normally, she didn’t let most people get in a few inches of her, but there was something about the inhabitants of Air Temple Island- past and present- that would always bypass that rule. Katara was a hugger. Aang was too. They raised very touchy children. And Lin was lumped in with them, for better or worse. Her hand was still buzzing from his touch as he started erratically shuffle around the room, closing all of the blinds with shaky hands.

“Hey, Tenzin-” Lin stood in the front by the podium, watching the tornado of yellows and oranges jump to every fan and turn it onto high, despite the relatively cool temperatures.

“Are there any recording devices in the room?” He asked, scanning room from the back.

“What-”

“Radios, microphones,” Tenzin rambled, growing impatient. He rubbed a hand over his head. “Anything that could be live?”

“Just the one on the desk-” Lin gestured loosely to the large police radio that lived on the front table. Before she could blink, Tenzin had ripped it from its post and smashed it on the ground.

“Tenzin!” Lin yelled. If there was anything she never though she’d see, it was Aang’s golden boy destroy government property.

He was about to stomp with his foot, as if for good measure, when Lin cut in. Without thinking, she grabbed both of his shoulders, shaking them slightly in the hopes of scaring off whatever had just posessed him.

“Tez,” Lin’s eyes darted across his face, looking for answers. Her voice didn’t have any malice in it anymore, just pure confusion. “What the fuck is going on?”

Tenzin met her gaze with a sort stunned expression. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d even looked at each other for this long, yet now it felt so familiar, so normal. For a moment, it felt like she caught a flicker, a glimmer of the boy she’d grown up with. The one who was terrified. The one who knew he didn’t have all the answers and wanted to try anyways. The one she fell in love with. He shrugged off her hands and took a step back, regaining the closed off composure she’d come to expect.

He took a breath.

“They found the new Avatar.”

Tenzin’s voice was low, but she could hear every syllable clear as day. Lin felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. She felt unbalanced, was unbalanced. For a single, fraction of a second, she felt like she might pass out. Her mind was racing as all of the pieces of the last few minutes clicked into places.

The air bender waited, letting her take it in. His face was almost apologetic. She wanted to turn away from him, to shrink away from his gaze, though why she wasn’t sure. Part of her felt he didn’t have the right to know how she was feeling. That’s not who they were anymore. Another part of her, the piece that knew his voice as well as she knew his own, still couldn’t handle the fact that this was their story. That this was how it ended. That this was how they kept going. 

Today, Lin heard Tenzin coming before she felt him. But that had always been true with him. It was like was never completely there. Aang wasn’t either, but he was different. Aang’s footsteps were like a dance. It was as if the air and the earth were passing him gently between one another, perfectly content to share. Tenzin’s were a battle, like he had to fight to stay on the ground.

That had been one of the worst parts, in retrospect, when Aang passed. She’d never feel that again.

Lin didn’t feel a lot of things after Aang died. Before it happened, when they were in that cruel waiting period when he’d told them it was going to happen but it hadn’t yet, she’d felt selfish for feeling anything at all. He wasn’t her dad. He wasn’t the only other earth bender in the world. She didn’t have to carry his mantle for the rest of her life. She didn’t have to train his successor.

All of her doubt over if she was allowed to mourn came to a halt after he died. The adults in her life had tried to prepare her, but nothing could have braced her for the experience of feeling a heart that had drummed so loudly for her entire life, stop. Loosing Aang was unlike anything she’d ever known. It felt awful beyond measure, wrong in every sense of the word.

Lin kept trying to remind herself that he wasn’t her dad, at first. As though that would’ve lessened the pain. He wasn’t her dad. He was Tenzin’s dad. And Bumi’s, and Kya’s. But it was his shoulders who she sat atop when she got too tired walking home on warm summer nights. It was his arms that she clung to the first few times they went out past the waves on Ember Island. It was Aang who taught her how to mediate and swim and whistle to birds in the tone that made them call back.

Lin spent most afternoons at Aang and Katara’s house. She and Su lived on the island as much as they did their apartment. That family, along with Sokka and Suki, created an ample support system for the Beifongs, making her childhood feel full and loud and abundant. Aang was a big piece of that. He was the piece, in a lot of ways. The glue that had concocted their perfect cobbled family

He used to do the same thing every time he came home. He’d come up the steps quickly, skipping the third, before opening the door softly and hanging up his bag. If Katara was home, he’d find his way to her and give her a hug and a kiss. And then he’d call for the kids.

“Kids, I’m home!”

And they never talked about it, of course, but Lin knew he meant her too. Aang wasn’t her dad. But for seventeen years, Lin was his kid.

The detective broke the silence first.

“How do you know for sure?” Lin asked, crossing her arms. She was a woman of order, a woman of facts.   It was how she’d always been. It was how she got through Aang’s passing and their breakup and all of her family’s complexities and now, how she would get through this.

“The White Lotus has confirmed it last night.”

“What…” Lin tried to grab one of the questions swirling in her brain, but the attempt made her nauseated.   She closed her eyes. “What do you know?”

“Her name is Korra.” Tenzin started. He was stoic, frozen in place as he recited a bulleted list of facts. “She’s four. She lives in my mom’s village.” There was a small relief in the final sentence, something Lin would be able to appreciate in the coming days, but not now. Tenzin leaned against the front table, across from Lin.  “I’m told she has a lot of energy.” He added, rubbing his face with a tired hand.

“Go figure.” Lin gave a small smirk. “So she’s already shown…”

“Three. Three of the four.” He sighed. “Not mine.”

Lin was grateful that he didn’t make her ask, though the tone in his voice was hard to discern. She wasn’t sure if it was more relief or dread.

“I thought…” Lin swallowed, staring at a small scuff in the floor as she formulated her sentence. “I thought there would be more time. Your dad said-”

“I know.” Tenzin cut her off. His shoulders had crept their way back up to his ears. “Which is part of why we can’t let this slip yet.” He explained, gesturing to the crushed radio beside him. Lin had forgotten about that chapter of her morning. “The world is still mourning this is… sensitive.”

“Alright.” Lin nodded, brushing past the excuse of the world instead of, say, him. Tenzin picked at his robe. Sighing, she took a step towards him, bridging the somewhat awkward, four foot gap between them that hadn’t been breached since she shook him. “What are you going to do?”

“There’s a protocol.” He explained, in an unenthused tone. “It was something they set up. We have to change some of it because it’s sooner than anticipated, but most of it works. I’m going to the South tomorrow.”

“And then?” 

Tenzin shook his head. 

“I have no idea.”

Lin frowned. She looked at the man in front of her. He looked awful. He seemed so tired, so worn by his birthright and all it expected. Lin and Tenzin, unlike their respective siblings, strived for the textbook version of perfection. There would be no alternative path, no way of carving into the world with one’s inner passion. There was a plan, they would accomplish it. The difference between them, for Lin, was that she wanted it to be real perfection, in and out, Tenzin only needed it to look shiny. Lin needed to feel in control, he wanted to appear in control, especially when he actually felt as though the world was crumbling around him. And he did it by shutting off, by hiding himself away and pushing away any vulnerabilities.

Lin would bet anything that he wouldn’t say those words again. Those freeing, wonderful words. The expression of doubt, of aimlessness, would be buried in this room. It would only live with her. She’d know he was lost, that he was scared, that there was no plan, no path. She’d hold it with him. And a part of her wanted to.

But that’s not who they were anymore. That’s not what she was for. And so, for that complicated, painful reason, those words stung more than she'd expected. His honesty crept its way into her heart and tugged at the strings that very voice had snapped.

This time, Lin snapped back.

“Are you bringing Pema with you on this trip?” She asked, a sort of sickly sweet poison seeping into her voice.

“Lin.” Tenzin deflated. The air in the room stiffened as he sat up straight, almost pleading.

“What?” Lin crossed her arms. “She is your fiancé, it’s a valid question.”

“She’s not coming.” He huffed, meeting her with narrowed eyes. He curious what game she was playing, but he wouldn’t find out. She wasn’t entirely sure. “She hasn’t met my mom yet and this doesn’t seem like the appropriate time.”

“She hasn’t met Katara?” Lin’s eyes widened in real surprise.

“My mom doesn’t come to Republic City anymore and I haven’t exactly had time for a vacation.” Tenzin stood up, defensively. “Is that a problem for you?”

“Kind of.” Lin shrugged.

“Kind of?” He gawked.

“Kind of it is, yeah.” She decided.

“How dare- You don’t- this-” Tenzin paced, already stammering with irritation.

“You asked, that’s my answer.” Lin said, matter-o-factly. “Tenzin, you have a good mom. Katara deserves to have met your fiancé. It’s weird that she hasn’t.” She smirked, a new, dangerous thought crossing her mind. “Unless you think she wouldn’t approve.” Tenzin stopped pacing. “Your parents did always like me more than either of your sibling’s girlfriends. Well, besides Izumi.”

“You know what, I’m not doing this.” Tenzin pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t meet her eyes.  “I came here to tell you that, now you know. I’ll send a check for the radio.”

“Why did you, Tenzin?” Lin called, sharply, as Tenzin brushed passed her. The question had been looming in her mind since the news. She’d know eventually. His uncle would tell her. Or her mother. She’d know before the public. She’d have time to prepare. It didn’t have to be him. “Why did you tell me?”

“Does it matter?” Tenzin countered, whipping back around.

Lin didn’t realize it did until he asked. Until she’d pushed him out the door, along with her best shot at any other answers. She wasn't sure why it did, but it did. A lot of things didn't make sense. It had felt like that for a while. This wasn’t supposed to be their story.

She nodded, slowly.

Tenzin stood for a moment, weighing his options. Lin waited.

“He’d want you to know.” Tenzin decided, rubbing his tattooed hand unconciously. His voice was soft, laden with shared memories, the kind that could never sour. “Your relationship with my parents, with my dad, had nothing to do with us. Even with…” He sighed. Lin hugged her arms tighter. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to keep this kind of thing from you. He loved you and he’d want you to know.”

“So… for Aang, then?” Lin asked, her voice uncharacteristically unsure.

Tenzin made a face, something she, surprisingly, couldn’t decipher. It was something of a resigned smile, a tired, complicated acceptance. 

“Sure Lin,” He said, turning to the door. “For Aang.” 

Chapter Text

December 14th, 135 AG, Present Day

“Status report.”

“We’re nearing the building, sir.”

Bumi hoisted his pack further up his back. In the faint light of his leader’s torch, he could see the outline of his team. Only ten people from his ship were selected for this mission. They’d been underground for four days, weaving through a web of tunnels crafted by their earth bending team. They were so close.

“Another two thousand meters, give or take.” Bumi added. By this time, he could see the map of the enemy base in his head when he closed his eyes.

“Report until we get there.”

Bumi respected his capitan. He was disciplined, predictable, steadfast. He was exactly who you’d want in charge if you wanted consistency. He was the opposite of Bumi. He looked at least a dozen times before he leaped. In another life, Bumi would have seen him as a mentor of sorts. He was two years older, just ahead of him on the career trajectory. He would’ve been perfect.

“Aye, aye, Captian Kaito.”

The only problem, was that he was engaged to the love of his life.

Izumi met Kaito a few months after they broke up. Bumi was off somewhere, nursing his broken heart on the boat. He poured everything into rising through the ranks that first year. Izumi, in turn, began international relations work. Kaito was put on her security detail.

“Fifteen hundred meters, sir.”

Bumi wiped his brow with a wrapped hand. They’d been walking in near darkness for days, only a small flame at the front. He hadn’t been this close to the light until now. It felt weird.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Kaito nodded in return.

Bumi didn’t think Kaito and Izumi would last. He was nice sure. But he was boring. He didn’t make her laugh. Bumi couldn’t understand why he didn’t try harder. Her laugh was the greatest sound he’d ever heard. There wasn’t a day of his life that he didn’t want to find a way to hear it again.

After the initial year of pain, Izumi and Bumi started to be friends again. Neither could pinpoint how or when or why, the just stumbled back into it. They’d missed each other too much. They’d spent so much of their lives intertwined in some way, it was too awful to break the string now, even if it was different. He started visiting, though he’d stay in his own room. She started writing him when he was at sea. They found a new rhythm. They didn’t talk about Kaito.

Until of course, they had to. He proposed after six months. And she said yes. And that hurt. Until then a small part of Bumi was sure he’d have another chance. That he could show her, somehow, that it all wasn’t too hard. That the good outweighed the bad. That being a son of the Avatar wasn’t too much of a conflict of interest for her country.

But of course, his hope for any sort of rekindling couldn’t last. Even if they weren’t going to get married, he’d have to let it go. Things didn’t normally sway his way like that. Not with his luck.

The baby, though, was a surprise to everyone.

“One thousand, sir”

Bumi cleared his throat. The earth benders keeping the tunnel intact pushed forward.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Kaito recited.

Bumi was the last one to learn about the pregnancy. He had been at sea. He was always at sea for the big stuff, it seemed. Which of course, had been apart of the point, but still. Bumi was set to arrive the United Republic’s Independence day celebration. His mother, ever a wise woman,  asked him to come home a day early. He obliged. She sat him down on the couch and told him. 

By the time he saw Izumi the next day, he had mustered the courage to congratulate her. The relief on her face at his acceptance was worth it.

“Five hundred, sir.”

Bumi was whispering now. It was almost pitch black now. He could feel the anticipation in the air as sweat trickled down his back. They were close and everyone knew it.

“Mhm.”  Kaito grunted in return. Bumi wondered, briefly, if his commander was thinking about her too. Probably not. Unlike Bumi, Kaito had the frustrating capacity to compartmentalize. Bumi thought everything at every moment all the time. He could do it all, show up and show out. Bumi liked to think it made him better. Probably not.

Izumi and Kaito hadn’t been married when they found out about the baby. They were engaged, sure, but still separate in the eyes of the Fire Nation. That part had been… complicated, for her country. Though the war was long over, conservative sentiments still had their teeth in the culture of the Fire Nation. And here was their golden child, their shining light, faltering for the first time in her life. Because of this, they decided to wait until the baby was born to wed. Let the world settle first. Zuko, Mai and the rest of the family ensured that anyone who qualms about their break from tradition dismissed them.

After he got over the initial shock, Bumi couldn’t believe that between the two of them, Izumi had been the one to commit an international scandal. Izumi didn’t like this joke.

“One hundred, sir.”

Bumi’s voice was barely audible. They started to hear creaks of people walking above them. A wave of energy seemed to rush through the line of soldiers.

Kaito wouldn’t respond now. He was listening for the voices they were about to meet at the end of the tunnel. Behind him, Bumi heard the clicks of unsheathed swords and the whir of water pouches being opened.

Iroh changed everything. He was the best thing that had ever happened in history, probably. He was funny and brilliant and kind. He was just the most perfect little guy. And Iroh made him realize that friendship was all that would be between them. That it was all that he wanted, actually. He just wanted to them, the two of them now, in his life. Bumi knew how to be an uncle. He knew how to help a young, overwhelmed parent. He knew how to help his friend. He’d watched his own uncle do it his entire life. Sokka was his third parent in a lot of ways. Bumi could do that.

Izumi and Kaito were supposed to get married one year after the baby was born. But then Kaito was deployed. And then there were attacks on the palace. And then Iroh got sick, and though he recovered they couldn’t have him around half the world.

And then… the unimaginable thing happened. The thing no one was expecting. And no one wanted to celebrate. Not for a long time.

“Fifty, sir.”

Bumi and the other soldiers gathered closer together. Soon, the earth benders would break through their mud ceiling and they’d be in the base of one of the most notorious anti-Republic organizations in the world. They couldn’t falter.

Kaito lit a small flame in his hand. In the other raised his fist, signaling them to stop. They waited. This was it. Go time.

Bumi never asked why they didn’t just get up do it one day. Why they didn’t elope in secret the way he and Izumi did when they were eighteen and thought that they’d be together forever. Bumi and Izumi didn’t talk about her love life like that. Even still, it made a man wonder.

His private, completely neutral opinion, was that she didn’t love him. Izumi was a lot like his brother, she was someone who liked to be in control. To check boxes. Kaito was the opposite of a wildcard.

“On my count.” Kaito signaled. The earth benders got in position. Bumi took a breath.

“3… 2… go!”

The fight was intense. It was intenser than intense, it was everything. Adrenaline was a drug, it took over his body, making all of his moves for him. Bumi was a skilled fighter. He didn’t hesitate, he didn’t blink, and he didn’t stop moving. He was like a leaf in the wind, bobbing and ebbing and flowing with the tide of the bodies around him. He was one with the motion. It was electric. All around him things were tumbling and tossing and falling and getting up, and he was doing the same.

It took thirty-four minutes to secure the base. Three minutes shorter than predicted. But the win, though satisfying, did not mean the day was over. After the initial victory, it was time to round up all of the information they could and send it back to the base. Bumi and two of the other officers, his friends, Han and Mei, were assigned to the office of the enemy’s leader. It was a high honor, a sign of trust that Bumi was trying and failing not to show meant an almost embarassing amount to him.

Kaito walked around on his final lap, stopping in each room as they took inventory with a familiar almost-frown across his face. He’d never show his satisfaction on the job, but Bumi knew he’d be writing home to Izumi the moment he was off-duty. He always put in too many exclamation marks, according to her. Bumi thought of it as his only vice.

“Report.” He said. Bumi and his fellow soldiers stood at attention.

“We’ve secured the final boxes, Capitan.” He explained. “All ready to be shipped off.”

“Good work, soldiers.” Kaito nodded. “Report back to the ship once you’ve handed them to the ground team. We’re sailing for the Republic tonight.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Bumi, Han and Mei relaxed as he turned his back. This mission had been in the works for the better part of four months. It was small, covert and a secret. This particular anti-Republic organization had spies everywhere, meaning anyone apart of it had to go dark until it was done. Suffice to say, there was an abundance of relief in the room. They’d done it. They’d actually pulled it off.

Han sunk back in an office chair, running a muddy hand through his hair. He, Bumi and Mei had all come up together from the academy. All apart of one of the first classes of non-benders, all there with something to prove.

“Ready to go home?” Mei teased, tying a final string on the last box. The delivery team would be up any minute to take the last of the files, but until they arrived they couldn’t leave them.

“Ready for a shower.” Han replied. Thankfully, none of their team was badly injured. They’d been preparing for this strike for months, and it had gone off without a hitch. Bumi couldn’t sit down, he was still buzzing.

“You can say that again.” Bumi sighed, examining his own, dirt-ladden clothes. “Let’s wrap up and do last checks. Han, anything else behind the desk? In the trash?They want anything.”

“Nothing of note.” He muttered, sifting through the waste bin underneath the desk.” Han pulled out a half-crumpled newspaper. “Oh, check it out they get Republic City Times.”

“Is it recent?” Mei asked, weaving her way around the desk. Bumi counted the boxes again, comparing this list to the list on each box. This was a big role and he didn’t want to make the delivery team wait because he got distracted. Even still, he could understand his friends temptation. They had been underground, literally and figuratively, for months.

“It’s… it’s from today.” Han said, almost excited as he smoothed out the pages.

“Any good headlines?” Bumi asked, over his shoulder.

His friends didn’t respond. In fact, they had been silent for some time now. Even though he wasn’t facing them, Bumi could tell something in the air had shifted.

“Guys?” Bumi turned. The relief and fatigue that had coated their faces just moments before was wiped clean off. In its place was a sort of complicated shock Bumi couldn’t decipher. They looked to each other and then back at him. “Guys, c’mon. What happened?”

A familiar sinking feeling reared its head in Bumi’s stomach.

“No one died.” Mei said, quickly. She knew where his head went, where his head would always go for the rest of time. She was good like that.

“Okay.” Bumi said, a sigh of relief washing over him. Still, he felt frozen in place. Whatever they’d read would change something. If he stayed here, he stayed in this moment. The second he moved it all changed, whatever it was. “So… What happened, then?”

“Just read it, buddy.” Han said, folding the paper and handing it across the table. The second it was out of his hand he sat back in a sort of miffed disbelief. Mei wore a similar look, leaning heavily on Han’s chair. Any weirdness they’d felt being in the office of a man conspiring to destroy their beloved shared home city had all but dissolved. All that existed now was this newspaper.

Bumi, never one to hesitate, opened it to the front page.

“Oh.”

Bumi read and reread the words, hoping that if he just did it one more time they’d change or sink in or do anything other than suck the air from his chest.

They didn’t.

In hindsight, he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that this would be the day, of all days, that the world found out.

His father always had a strange relationship with timing.

Excerpt from Republic City Times

BREAKING NEWS: NEW AVATAR FOUND IN THE SOUTHERN WATER TRIBE

December 14, 135

The White Lotus has confirmed that the new Avatar has been found in the Southern Water Tribe. In the four years since Avatar Aang’s death, which was commemorated last month with a number of celebrations across Republic City, an elite team selected by world leaders has been hard at work searching for the next Avatar. Though we were braced to anticipate at least a decade of waiting before the Avatar would be announced, the search was officially declared over just after midnight.

Currently, the world knows little about the new Avatar, and according to sources close to the White Lotus, this may remain for several years. Through the White Lotus, the new Avatar’s family has asked for privacy, and will not be disclosing their identities for sometime. However, given research out of Republic City University into the Avatar cycle, it is likely that this Avatar is a girl around the age of four. 

Avatar Aang’s family has declined to comment on this matter, but has reportedly already met with the White Lotus in the Southern Water Tribe, along with Councilman Sokka, Fire Lord Zuko, General Suki, and Chief of Police, Toph Beifong.

People across the world can breathe a sigh of relief tonight knowing that the Avatar cycle has continued, though our solace is not without its complexities and hesitations. We have only known a world with one Avatar, the one who led us into an era of peace. To many, it feels like tonight the sun has finally set on the age of Aang.

As a new dawn emerges, it is rational to be worried for what the future holds. To say that she has big shoes to fill would be an understatement. Even so, recent polls have stated that many Republic City residents are cautiously optimistic.

All of us at Republic City Times would like to be the first to say, welcome the world, Avatar. We can’t wait to see what you’ll do.

Chapter Text

Present 

Early mornings on Air Temple Island held some of Tenzin’s favorite memories. The fog from the Yue bay would coat everything in this thick cloud, almost covering the ground. The air would be thick with mist and salt, weaving around everyone with a gentle glide. The acolytes still used lantern light to get down to the pagoda for morning meditation, meaning that as you looked out there was a sea of soft glowing lights and orange robes peeking through the fog. He knew Pema was down there somewhere, walking along with her friends. Most mornings, Tenzin would join them.

Tenzin was hesitant to meditate with the group at first, he was nervous for a long time actually, after he moved back home. They left the city after his dad died. His mom couldn’t handle it. So she took her children and went back home. When they returned, just a few months later for Tenzin’s secondary school graduation ceremony, she stayed at Suki and Sokka’s and Tenzin stayed at Toph’s with Lin.

After the ceremony, Katara left. Tenzin stayed. He lived at Toph’s for the first few months. She would’ve let him stay forever, even if he wasn’t dating her daughter, but after a while he started to feel a pull to go back to the island. The acolytes didn’t ask, they were fairly self-sustaining, it was him who needed it. Tenzin hadn’t worn his father’s colors since the funeral. But his siblings were wearing them too that day. When deciding when to go to the island, it came down to the fact that most of his clothes were orange and yellow, and he didn’t want to be the only one in the room with them on. Not yet.

Tenzin moved back to the island in the fall. Lin was starting at the academy anyways. It was a time of natural transition. He moved into the dormitories. Sokka carried his boxes up the rickety stairs. He put his clothes away in his dresser as Tenzin went to meditation. He went with Tenzin back to their house, the one that sat empty on the other side of the island, to collected the rest of his things, the things he hadn’t seen since his dad was alive. It was an unceremonious homecoming. The acolytes, spirits bless them, had cleaned it regularly, so it only felt like a mausoleum. They worked quickly, scanning his room for any things he may want, and double checking so he didn’t need to come back until he wanted to. Sokka went into Aang and Katara’s room. He reappeared with a few photos and a shawl. Only later did Tenzin realize the errand was for his mother.

The next time Tenzin went into the house, he came alone. He needed a robe for a press conference, and frankly there weren’t many Air Nomad robes in existence that fit the bill. Zuko had been supplying Tenzin with his clothes, he had a plethora of robes in his closet from the years that Aang didn’t have a home base, but he was in a pinch. It was only then, in his father’s untouched closet, that he cried. He hadn’t yet. It upset his mother and angered his sister and terrified his brother. But he did then, finally.

After that visit, he forced his siblings to come back home and clean out the house. Sokka and Suki came over. So did Toph, Lin and Su. They had breathed as much life into that house as the people that lived there. Their mother came too. Though she didn’t stay on the island. Zuko, Mai and Izumi came with Iroh on the final day, to bid a final farewell to that chapter of their lives. The chapter where Tenzin’s family lived together, where they saw each other every morning and every night. Where his mother hummed to herself in the kitchen and his father danced along. It was a long, painful slog, but it was also beautiful. They told stories they hadn’t told in a long time and laughed at old jokes and soaked in the last sweet moments of that house, of that life that none of them could return to. 

Once they house had been boxed up, nearly year after Aang’s passing, Tenzin asked an acolyte family to move in. They were some of the only people on the island with children. They had arrived when their kids were babies. They were young and overwhelmed and completely and utterly inspired by his dad. They understood that yes, typically, the acolytes don’t have children, but they prayed for an exception. They said they would make it work, make anything work. They reminded Tenzin’s parents of themselves. Of two people willing an almost impossible reality into being. The house was just sitting there, empty and looming. It was frivolous and impractical to keep it. It’s what his father would have wanted. The acolytes were nervous, of course, but they obliged. Their children were getting older. It was time to have their own space. 

Tenzin swung a pack over his shoulder and took a familiar walk across the island. The stables were still over by his old house, a remnant of a time when there was only one bison calling it home. There was a pile of tiny shoes outside the door, all disorganized and muddy. He caught himself looking for his own, for just a moment. The thought was quickly brushed aside. He made the final turn to the stables and found the bison all snuggled together in cozy heaps of brown and beige fur. Tenzin made his way to the the last stall, the oldest.

“Hey, big guy.” Tenzin whispered, scratching the nose of his father’s companion. “Up for a little adventure?”

Appa grunted in return, stretching his joints and he lumbered out of the stable. Why Aang was gone and Appa remained was a bit of a mystery, and not one the animal was comfortable with. They doubted he’d ever really find peace with it. Tenzin thought about bringing Oogi, his companion, on this trip, but he decided not to. This felt like something Appa should be apart of.

By the time the sun set, Tenzin would be in the South Pole. The next time he stepped foot on Air Temple Island, he would be doing so having met the next Avatar. He didn’t know how to feel about it, not really. It had been easy, so far, to push away any real feelings he had and focus on the job, on containment of the news. But a few days ago, a reporter called asking to corroborate claims that the search had ended, and it was clear their window of complete secrecy was over. The public didn’t know who she was yet, and they wouldn’t, but the egg had cracked. There was a new Avatar. And he had to deal with it.

“We’re going to see Katara, buddy.” Tenzin said, rubbing Appa’s head. They’d just taken off, but the bison was taking his sweet time gaining air. It was still fairly early, and from the water you could tell the city was just waking up. “Are you excited?”

Appa grunted in return, which Tenzin knew meant yes, but I’m still mad you woke me up.

“We might see someone else too.” He mumbled. That was the other reason he wanted to bring Appa. To see if he’d recognize her. Tenzin wasn’t sure what that would change, but he wanted to try.

But just as they were supposed to gain altitude, to head off across the open water, Appa took an abrupt left turn towards the city.

“Hey-” Tenzin started. He had half a mind to try and rear him back on course, but that wouldn’t have worked. Appa didn’t follow his directions, or any directions really, since Aang died. He’d take you where you wanted to go, but it would be on his terms.

As they went further into the city, Tenzin started to realize where they were going. He knew before their descent who would be waiting for them. The knowledge should have relaxed the hike in his shoulders, but it didn’t. There only one person who Appa still listened to. His choice drove the air bender slowly insane.

“I didn’t realize you kept it.” Tenzin said. He stayed on the bison, looking down at the figure standing in the street with a bag under her arm.

Lin smiled. There was a small white bison whistle on a string around her neck. Satisfied with the results, tucked it back under her shirt.

“Aang gave it to me for emergencies.” She shrugged. His father had few earthly possessions. He gave most of them away before his death, dispersing himself across their family and friends. There were so few items that the ones you did have became idolized in his wake. Lin would keep the whistle forever.

Without another word, Lin clambered up the side of the bison and fastened her pack beside his.

“You don’t have to do this, Lin.” Tenzin said.

He was a little stunned that this was happening, but the fog he’d been living in since they found out about Korra had thrown him out of sorts. He didn’t have the energy to fight this, and he didn’t want to. Their fight at the police precinct had been the longest amount of time they’d talked to each other alone in years. And even though they left with a resentment, he’d missed it.

“I needed a ride.” Lin said, dismissing any idea that this was for his benefit. “I don’t know if you know this but it’s hard to get South without a flying bison.” She was on the saddle, but she was on the side closer to him.

As soon as she was secure, Appa took off. They settled into a familiar silence once they got into the clouds. The sun was still rising, coating everything in a hazy array of oranges and yellows that slowly dissolved into blues.

They made most of the ride in silence, exchanging small talk here and there about her work or his. A few times, she asked for more information about the new Avatar, about her family and their family and what everyone knew. He obliged. In addition to his mother and hers, Zuko, Sokka, Suki and Kya were already there. Su was staying in the Fire Nation with little Iroh, Mai and Izumi, who were leading the country until Zuko’s duties South were complete. No one could get ahold of his brother. The Navy had said he was on a dark mission, meaning they couldn’t contact him. They didn’t know when it would be over.

The air began to shift from a soft breeze to a harsher wind, meaning they were nearing the South. Slowly, Appa started to descend, flying low and letting his feet flick the water for old time’s sake. Now that they were below the clouds, it was snowing on them. Soft flakes landed on Tenzin’s robes, making little spots on his yellow pants.

“My mom will be happy to see you.” Tenzin said, turing back to Lin. It was the closest he would get to thanking her for coming with him.

“I know,” Lin smirked. She’d put on her hood, her cheeks bright pink in the thick fur lining. “I’m wonderful.”

“Are you okay?” He asked. She was shivering, even though she was trying to make it seem like she wasn’t.

“Fine.” Lin insisted. “I’m not used to the temperature.”

“When was the last time you were South?” Tenzin asked. While they’d spent a lot of their childhood in the South, most of the time it was during the months of endless sun, when it never set. But she hadn’t been on that trip in a while.

Lin gave him a sort of nervous look, one he became all to familiar with reading.

“Oh. Right.” He sighed. Lin had come with their family after Aang died. They all stayed for weeks after the funeral, once it became clear that Katara was not coming back to the city. There was a lot that still needed to be done, of course, and a lot of their time was spent planning for the future. But mostly, they just be together. “That was in the winter too, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” Lin sighed, wrapping her coat tighter around her body. “I don’t remember it being this cold, though.”

“I don’t remember much of that at all.” Tenzin admitted. There were flashes of memories from that time. Of Zuko meditating with him in the morning. Of walks with Kya and Bumi. Of his mother shaving his head. Of Lin making him train with her, just so they could both do something. But there were gaps too, he knew that.

“Makes sense.” Lin shrugged.

The South Pole started to come into view. Appa grumbled, signaling they would be landing soon. Tenzin could already spot his grandfather’s house, just on the edge of town. Katara lived closer inwards, but finding Hakoda and Kanna’s home was a force of habit. Appa wouldn’t land anywhere else.

Without a word Lin swung her legs over the saddle and sat next to him. She didn’t touch him, didn’t put a hand on his shoulder or grab his hand, but she sat with him as they braced for landing.

“I’ll remember this, though.” Tenzin mused. Now, he could make out the figures of people, moving about their day on the ice. He imagined all of them knew now. “I’ll remember this forever.”

“Yeah.” She muttered. “Me too.”

Chapter Text

A few days earlier

“You’re early.”

Katara snarked as she opened her front door. From the first quick knock, she knew who was waiting on the other side. They’d agreed to meet an hour from now and walk over together, but it seemed he grew impatient. Either he was excited, or he wanted to get it over with. She guessed he was somewhere in the middle. She was too. Regardless, they were both up and dressed.

"Early seems to be in style these days." 

Sokka smiled, pulling her into a hug. Even through gloved hands, he was squeezing her tight. He was nervous.

“Little bird’s still sleeping?” Sokka asked, looking behind his sister for her daughter.

“Mhm.” Katara nodded, grabbing her bag and swinging it over her shoulder. “She knows where we’ll be. We can go.”

“We don’t have to race over.” Sokka added, walking just a step behind and Katara headed down a practiced road. We can have coffee or something.”

Katara stopped in place. She turned to her brother. His eyes, normally so certain, so sure, were riddled with doubts. She put a hand on his arm.

“Sokka.”

“Yeah?”

She took a breath, and so did he. Katara mustered all of the assuredness she had, trying to channel it into her brother. She had been strong for the both of them before, she could do it again. After all, she’d already met her. This was his turn. If they stalled, they’d never make it to that house, he knew that too.

“It’s okay.” She said, slowly. “It’s going to be okay.”

Sokka gave a small, silent nod. Together, they started down the path. The familiar sound of fresh snow crunching against her boots were like a song, a mantra, pushing her forward. As they passed through their town square, they were met with smiles and waves from passersby, some old friends, others new. Even as their small village grew into a budding city, they were still well known, still respected and remembered as the two kids who left and saved the world and kept leaving. Though now, she was certain, their title as most revered Southern Water Tribe folks was about to be revoked.

The extent of Katara’s fame, of her appreciation as a bender and a healer and a fighter for peace, was different here than anywhere else. The moment she stepped outside of the Poles, her narrative shifted.

Katara knew, from the moment she kissed Aang, that the first thing after her name would forever be about the Avatar. She would be the Avatar’s girlfriend, and later the Avatar’s wife, and then everything else. Then a healer. Then a master water bender. Then a hero of the Hundred Years War. He would be the first thing they said, forever. The world would see her as an extension of him. And she’d made peace with that. It was the price she paid for the life she loved. For the person she loved.

What she didn’t know, was that there was a title that would cut deeper. That would make her long for the flippant reduction of her accomplishments and the privileging of her love life over everything she’d done.

The title of the Avatar’s widow.

Part of her appreciated the term. It was so non-agentic. It was a verb. She was widowed. She liked the affirmation of its finality, of its rawness. Yes, something happened. Something was taken from her. She was a widow.

The first time anyone called her that was when viewing the venue for his funeral. The woman showing them around meant nothing by it, she was merely walking them through how the ceremony would go. First, the audience would take their seats, then typically it was the widow or widower who opened with remarks. That was her. The widow.

Katara was born into grief. She was a child of a lost place. Of a place that fought to survive. It made her happiness earned. She lived on the backs of the people who died protecting her. Not just her home or her way of life, but her tiny body. Katara was hope. Katara was a new life. She was their dream, she had to succeed.

“So…” Sokka piped up, after a while, breaking Katara from her trance. The house was still quite a ways a way, on the outskirts of the village, so they had a long walk ahead of them even though they’d passed the more populated part of town. “Zuko’s coming tomorrow?”

“He’s supposed to land tonight.” She said. They were walking in tandem, the crunch of their boots melding in a satisfying crunch. “With Toph, I think.”

“Oh. Good.” Sokka nodded. He was rubbing his hands together in his gloves, staring straight ahead. “Suki’s coming tomorrow too.”

“I know, Sokka.”

“Tenzin said he’s going to get here as soon as he can.”

“I know he will.”

“Still no word Bumi?”

“Not yet.”

“As soon as they we have contact, we’ll get him here.” Sokka said, though if that part was for him or for her, she was unsure. “So is Izumi-”

“Sokka.” Katara warned. She could sense his spiral from a mile away.

“I know.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling.” Sokka’s shoulders deflated as he rubbed a tired hand across his face. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do this.” He admitted, quietly.

“None of us do.” Katara explained, hoisting her pack further up her back. “We just have to keep doing it.”

Loosing Aang was not the slow, dwindling loss of her homeland, nor was it the violent rip of her mother’s murder. It was somewhere in between. It was raw and untenable. Toph once likened the feeling of ripping off your own arm. In the months after he left this world, Katara kept coming back to that. It wasn’t just having your own taken from you, but also the fact that you did it. You were apart of that hurt. You were the perpetrator and the victim. Toph would be remembered for her strength, but Katara always found her way of words to be equally inspiring. Because that’s what it felt like. It felt like her body and mind were betraying her, were changing her, irreparably. She wanted to scream out, to ask one limb why it would ruin the other.

Why are you doing that? Why are you doing that?

Katara asked a lot of questions towards the end. She asked the sky and Yue and her mother. She asked Aang’s body during healing sessions when she tried and failed to ease a sort of cosmic pain no one could explain.

Why are you doing that? Why are you taking him away? How could you?

It felt so senseless when he was dying. Katara felt like she was drowning, grasping for answers or solace or any semblance of understanding. It didn’t help that Aang was pretending to have reconciled it. He put on a masterful performance of acceptance for their friends and family. Katara couldn’t be angry with him for it, even though she knew it wasn’t true. She’d known him for more of her life than she hadn’t, she knew how to see the cracks in his facade. The quirk of his lips, the crease of his eyes, the way he’d pick at his fingers when he was nervous- a habit she hoped one day he’d find a way out of that he’d end up taking to his grave.

But Katara understood his facade. Aang was a dad. He had to be a dad. And a dad has to tell his kids that he’s okay.

Aang was a child of a lost place, too. And so were their children. But they hadn’t known loss like this before. Their grief was abstract, tangled in their hair and their veins and in the freckles on their skin. It would be one of the reasons they’d go gray early and have wrinkle lines before their peers and why sometimes in Autumn they woke up with an inescapable melancholy. Their grief was the reason they had a hard time grounding themselves, why they cheered louder for the Water Tribe’s team during sports games and why at different times, each of them tried to be vegetarian. But these things were not specific. Until now, their grief had been peppered across their lives, like air and water, they were ever-present.

But now their dad was dead. This was singular. This was not in the wind or in the sea, this was not a complicated feeling or the stories of their great-grandmother. This was not a lost place, this was an empty seat at their dining room table. This was the rest of their lives.

Something dark settled in Katara’s children after Aang died. They became cold and untrusting. They were brash and prickly. They didn’t laugh as loud or smile as wide, and she knew that that was to be expected. But the worst part was that they couldn’t seem to stand each other. It was as though they each became a reminder, a manifestation of all they had lost, of all they could not become. They were each other’s mirrors, and they couldn’t stand their reflection.

“Does she want to meet her?” Sokka asked, after a while. They had left town now, only a few houses were scattered in this part of the tundra, one of which was their destination. “Kya, I mean.”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t said either way.” Katara admitted. Her daughter arrived with her uncle the night before. Kya had a lot of questions, but hadn’t given much away to her own thinking. “Not without her brothers, that I know for sure.”

“Makes sense.” Sokka nodded, glancing at his sister with understanding eyes. He was doing the same.

In the last few months of Aang’s life, when everything moved so impossibly fast and yet the days felt so endlessly grueling, they talked a lot about the future. He had to, of course, he had to make arrangements, to use what little time and energy he had left to help craft a plan so that the world did not fall into chaos. But he also talked about their future, and how it was becoming only hers.

He talked a lot about what he wished for her. He wanted her to leave if she needed to leave or stay if she needed to stay. He hoped she stay close to family. He hoped she’d keep teaching. That she’d still laugh loudly and dance and hum songs while she did chores.

Aang only asked her to promise one thing, though. Everything else was a goal, a parting desire for her next chapter. The ask came in the middle of the night. They were both still awake, lying in each others arms just as they had for almost thirty years. Aang wrapped an gentle hand around her, mustering his dwindling strength to hold her close, and asked her to do something for him. She obliged. Anything.

He asked her not to be angry. She almost laughed. He clarified. He asked her not to let it consume her.

I can’t let this take you.

That’s what he’d said. I can’t let this take you. He looked at her with those ancient gray eyes, giving her a look that made her understand that he was a child of the universe, that he carried more in his frame than he’d ever be able to understand, and she understood. She could not die with him. That’s what he was asking. You cannot die with me.

She almost did in the first year. It was impossible not to. Katara felt frozen in place, trapped in the walls of that house. Her children looked to her with wide desperate eyes and she had no answers. It was only when her lungs filled with the icy air of her homeland that she could breathe again. That she could see more than a few inches from her face.

In time, she realized that she had to stay. Aang was a frequent guest of the South, but it was always hers. She could not die with him. She needed a smaller bed. She needed a room she decorated herself. She needed to be with her people. She was a child of a lost place. But a new place had been found. Katara needed to carve a new life, one that had echoes of her love, of the light that had burned out and left her in darkness, but was not consumed by it either.

Katara spent almost thirty years being the Avatar’s something. She would spent the rest of her life being the Avatar’s something. But in there, somewhere, she had to be something else. It was the only path forward, the only way. She could not die with him.

The South Pole saved her. It returned the favor. She had been their new life, and so they would do the same.

She still thought about him every day. Slowly, his presence became lighter in her head, and his memory was a welcome feeling instead of an unbearable weight, even on the days where he filled her every waking thought.

She knew he was here with him. This is where they’d found each other, where their adventure began. This was where their children were born. He was here. He had always been here with her. He was just around the corner, just out of reach, just below the ice.

Katara didn’t know that Korra would be here too. It made her believe in some of Aang’s acceptance. It made her feel better. It was proof enough that he had a choice in something, in the end. That it wasn’t just that he’d been ripped off this earth with little thought or control. This was his last gift to her. She’d share one more home with an Avatar. Though this time, they were of the same lost people.

It was fitting that when Sokka came to meet her, that they’d do it together. Katara had already met her. She couldn’t wait, once she heard the news. But her second visit was with her brother. And his first was with her.

“This is it.” Katara sighed, walking up to wrap her knuckles on a great wooden door. Sokka tensed beside her.

They’d met an Avatar together before, now they would do it all again.

“Yue give me strength.” Her brother muttered under his breath.

Korra was different. Katara wasn’t sure what she was expecting when they met. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, even. The little girl, just out of her toddler years, wasn’t like Aang or anyone else for that matter. She was herself, her wonderful, boisterous self. It took all of five minutes for Katara to want to be her teacher. She’d promised Aang she would be, and he told her she didn’t have to. Katara wasn’t sure, until she met the girl, that she could. Now though, she knew this was what was supposed to be. She would be a dedicated student, Katara could already tell.

Katara studied her brother during their visit. He had a habit of removing emotion from things when he wanted to, when it was too hard to feel and think at the same time. Right now, the world needed him to be pragmatic, and she feared that separating himself from it all might be his way through.

Immediately, Sokka was overwhelmed, which was a hard thing to do to him, but he made it through. He made small talk with Korra’s parents, he asked her questions about her toys and applauded when she showed him her moves. When she asked about his boomerang, he even took her outside to show her how it worked. When they returned, with the small Avatar comfortably on his hip, Katara knew that he would be okay. That he would approach this all with his big heart on his sleeve. That Korra was not the result of their great loss and pain, but someone that they would love as their own and protect not just as a global power, but as a little girl who was born with the same songs in her chest as they were.

“She’s…” Sokka started, almost as soon as they got out of earshot from the house. “She’s incredible.”

“She is.” Katara said, a small smile on her lips. “She’s really special.”

“And she’s… she's different” Sokka’s eyes danced, searching for the words. He met her gaze with a complicated understanding. “She has it.”

Katara took a breath.

Korra unique, she was herself, she was singular. Even still, there was something… familiar there. Not Aang, or Roku or Kyoshi or any of the others she’d learned about, but something. It wasn’t just energy, but a light, a knowledge that crept its way into the way she moved, the way she worked with water and earth and fire.  It was the thing that bound them all together, shining through in her.

She had it. That’s what Sokka was getting at. What felt hard to articulate. She had what Aang had. What made him feel otherworldly and chosen and spirit-sent. The thing that was a little bit inspiring and a little bit scary. The thing that put him in cosmic danger and also gave him a raw power that was entirely uncontainable.They understood, better than anyone, the gravity of what that meant. Of what would be asked of her. Of the pressure and pain of being a vessel of the universe. They’d just buried the man with her mantle because the spirits had decided that sparing him for one hundred years meant taking him thirty years later.

“I know.” Katara said quickly, pushing down a familiar dread. “I know.”

The good, the bad, the terrifying, she had it. Korra was the Avatar.

Chapter Text

Present

Zuko and Toph landed in the Fire Nation just after ten o’clock in the evening. They’d made better time than he was expecting, given the storm that awaited them in the South, but arriving at night was never his favorite.

“Finally!” Sokka whooped, clapping gloved hands together as they dismounted the boat. He’d already walked up the bridge to take Toph’s bags and lend her an arm. “I missed you guys.”

“Missed you too, bud.” Toph smiled, squeezing his arm as she looped hers around him. She’d grown gentler in the last four years, something that unsettled Zuko more than he’d care to admit. She’d been quiet most of the ride over, which he understood, talking mostly about their children and their jobs and avoiding the reason they’d dropped everything to travel halfway across the world.

“Did the Fire Nation have a shortage of coats before you left?” Sokka joked, judging Zuko’s ensemble. “Because it does now.”

“You’re hilarious.” Zuko rolled his eyes, huffing as he reached to grab his last pack. He and Toph had traveled alone and the boat was leaving as soon as they departed, without a return date.

Zuko was not a fan of cold places. His hands always dried out immediately, growing cracked and raw by the end of the first day of whatever trip he was on. Snow made him feel uneasy, it wasn’t enough that the clouds snuffed out the sun, they had to rain down on him with tiny pieces of ice as well. It was ancestral, born in his bones alongside his inner flame. It was in his nature.

Aang taught him to love the South, though. Aang taught him to love a lot of things.

That first visit back, after his best friend died and Katara fled and they followed, Zuko couldn’t stop thinking about all the times he’d been here and taken it for granted. The Water Tribe embraced him with a kindness that felt overwhelmingly unearned, but it was Aang that pulled him through the door. It felt hard, at first, to accept the offers Katara and Sokka made to each of their friends to visit with them. It was Aang who finally came to him and told him that he needed to come. That this was the way forward. And so he did.

So Zuko made a promise to visit year. And then he and Mai brought Izumi. Once the kids got old enough, Aang took their children sledding. Katara taught them how to weave. Sokka brought them fishing. And little by little like the palace and Air Temple Island, the South Pole became a haven for his tiny family. It was a place where he could take off his crown, where he could rest his head and embrace the imperfectness, the pain and rawness of all that they were trying to do, and breathe through it.

He should’ve known the Avatar would be here. Katara was the great love of his life. This was for her. And probably for Sokka too, a little bit.

“So Suki is coming tomorrow, Kya’s already here and Tez and Lin just landed,” Sokka explained, counting their family members off on his fingers. They were weaving through town on their way back to Katara’s new house. He’d only stayed here a handful of times, nothing in comparison to the hours he’d put in at Kanna’s.

“Lin? With Tenzin?” Toph asked, surprised.

“I thought said she wasn’t coming?” Zuko added, his brows furrowed.

“Don’t even get me started.” Sokka shook his head, somewhat dramatically. Zuko smirked. The familiar chill in the air brought back memories of happier times, of times coated with a nostalgic simplicity, though at the time they felt like anything but. The ice brought back visions late night talks around the fire and trips to the hot springs and parties seemed to never end. It made him feel better about it all, the knowledge that the next Avatar would share a love of this place even deeper than his own.

“I’m as surprised as you are.” Sokka continued, turning into the town square. Given the hour, most stores were closed, except a small pub at the end of the street. “But they’re actually talking to each other so I’m not going to push it.”

“How is Tez?” Toph asked. She used to call him junior, or baby twinkletoes, but both of those had been retired.

Sokka sighed, looking out across the tundra with a frustrated frown. The beads on his sweater eyes reflected the soft lights that lined the street, giving him an almost glittering quality.

“He’s hanging in there. He’s how he’s been.” Sokka decided. A familiar sinking feeling wedged it’s way into Zuko’s chest. “He’s tired.”

“How could he not be.” Zuko sighed, tugging at one of his gloves. “It’s admirable that any of them are even here. Not that they have a lot of choice.” He added, somewhat nihlistically. He’d made a promise to himself, once he became a grandfather, to live more positively. That all but ended when his model for such living died prematurely.

Sokka and Toph both muttered mhms of agreement as they turned the final corner to Katara’s place. As they approached the front door, it struck Zuko, suddenly, that when stepped inside he would be walking into a meeting about the Avatar, a living, real, tangible Avatar, for the first time in four years. For four years every search mission, every discussion or plan had been hypothetical. Yes, there was always technically an Avatar, but they existed somewhat symbolically, like a story or a ghost. They were not something you saw or held. Not someone who laughed or played. They didn’t exist in this world, because if they did, when they did, it would mean under no uncertain terms, that Aang was gone.

And now this Avatar was incredibly literal. He’d meet her in the coming days. He’d talk to her parents and watch her bend and have an opinion about what to do with her. Because this wasn’t metaphor or symbolism or figurative. She was here. She was the Avatar. Aang wasn’t anymore.

Aang was dead. And Zuko was, somehow, still alive.

“Tea?”

Katara was walking around the fire, offering a drink to everyone who had circled it. It was well past ten in the evening, but no one was going to sleep anytime soon. Sokka had just gone to pick up Zuko and Toph, meaning only Suki was left- and she’d given her blessing for them to begin. They had a lot to discuss, and not a moment to waste. Tenzin stifled back a yawn. The adrenaline of the last week was starting to catch up with him as he found himself settled in the fur blankets of his childhood.

“Thanks mom.” The air bender said, taking his cup.

“I can take that back to the kitchen, Auntie.” Lin shuffled beside him, standing up. Her presence, as predicted, had only delighted his mother. She hadn’t even asked him how it happened yet. “You can sit down.”

“Are you sure, honey?” Katara asked, hesitant to give her guest anything to do.

“More than sure.” Lin grinned, taking the tray. His siblings used to joke that she was the favorite child of their parents. Sometimes he was inclined to think they were right.

Katara settled beside her son, pulling a fur up over her legs. Tenzin wanted to relax beside her, but it felt harder than he wanted it to. She had always looked the same to him. He’d changed though. He kept changing. He didn’t have her deep shade of brown skin or her chestnut locks or her eyes. The winter rain in Republic City had made him pale, making his bright tattoos stick out against his skin even more than they already did. 

He hadn’t seen his mother in a few months, not since Bumi’s last leave. He didn’t mean to be gone that long. No one means to, but it happens. It used to be a sense of pride for him as a kid, that he would be the one who stayed. His siblings would go off, would take their home for granted, trade their loving family for the sea or some notion of pride, and he would stay. He would be the one to carry out the legacy. He saw how much his mother hurt when they left, he never wanted to do that to her. He wanted to be the one who was there. And he was. But she wasn’t.

“If it’s many people I can stay with Gran Gran and Papa.” Tenzin said, folding the blanket in his lap absent-mindedly.

Seeing her now was harder than he thought. It was awful, actually, showing up at her door knowing that they shared a mangled, twisted fate. They would train the next Avatar. Though Katara technically had a choice in it, Tenzin knew his mother. She’d do it. She couldn’t not do it. She was as tied to this as he was.

“What?” Katara’s eyes snapped open. “Tenzin, never offer that again.” She said, sternly.

“I just-”

“Sweetheart,” His mother gathered his hands in hers and held them close as she spoke in her native language. “Listen to me, you’re my son. I love having you here. It’s my favorite thing in the entire world. My favorite.”

Before Tenzin could answer, there was a knock at the door signaling the arrival of the rest of their party. His mother stood up, deciding the conversation was over, and walked to welcome them.

“I’m serious, honey.” She smiled, over her shoulder. “You know I love a full house.”

The air bender nodded in return. Katara was right, as she often was. Tenzin was raised in a full house. Rarely were the only people sleeping there the permanent residents. Lin and Su spent half their lives in his house. Toph had her own room. Izumi spent a handful of summers on the island. Not to mention the variety of wayward characters that cycled through. Tom Tom and Kiyi and Duke (he dropped the “the” in his twenties), and Han’s kids. His house was open to everyone, to every lost child of their old friends, to all who needed an extra hand or a bowl of soup or an ear. His parents gave it all, and they relished it. Katara still did. Tenzin could practically feel the way she lit up when she had people gathering her hearth, warming their hands at her fireplace. It was perhaps the only uncomplicated part of this evening. His mother was grinning as she ran to the door.

Tenzin got up to greet his family, but he waited to approach them.  He let them have their moment. He was good at that. Lin came back in, following the commotion, and stood next to him. They watched on together, lingering in the sitting room, standing stiffly as the people who raised them collapsed into each others arms.

As soon as Katara opened the door, she pulled them all inside and into her arms. Despite being a good few inches taller, Zuko sunk into his mothers embrace like he’d been waiting for that hug all day. Toph did the same, her hands crumpling the fabric of his Katara’s dress as she pulled her tight. Sokka wrapped his arms up around them all, locking them into the hold.

That group had something so specific, so special that as a kid Tenzin found himself jealous of the bond. They took each other as they were, no matter what. Tenzin’s siblings did not do that, not with him. Not at first, at least. As they grew up, it felt like his generation could achieve that too. And then he and his brother fucked it up by falling in love with two of the others. Lin shifted her weight beside him. He tried really hard not to think about how much of his life he’d done the same with her, but it was futile. Even without making eye contact, he knew she felt the same. They’d never have that again. That was gone.

“What are we doing?”

Tenzin and Lin both nearly jumped out of their skin. Standing behind them, lurking, was his older sister, grinning with mild satisfaction.

“Waiting.” Tenzin said, in a hushed tone. He was already irritated by her antics. “They just got here.”

“I can see that.” Kya nodded, taking a slow sip of her tea. She’d been meditating for the last hour, something Tenzin wasn’t aware she’d started doing.

“We’ll get started soon.” Lin offered, clicking her tongue the way his mother would. “I’m going to check on the kettle.”

Tenzin nodded, watching as she hurried back to the kitchen. Lin was more than a little antsy, she was always antsy when it came to the vulnerable stuff. When it became too much, as it was now, Lin pushed it all away and went for the next practical thing to do. He didn’t blame her, he was the same. And Aang’s passing had never been something they learned to hold together, any of them.

Now it was just Tenzin and Kya, watching as they held each other in the way no one else had, the way they learned to do for each other. Tenzin sighed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been alone with his sister. They saw each other enough, more than he saw his mother sometimes, but it was never just the two of them. They weren’t good at that. They never had been. They were supposed to have an older brother. He was the buffer, the bridge that made it all work.

Tenzin glanced at his sister. She was watching as their parents talk in hushed whispers, her face twisted with a complicated distaste. He understood. Sometimes they still kept secrets like their children were ten and not twenty-four and too innocent for whatever thoughts were escaping their mouths. They did the same when their dad was dying. They did it with a lot of things.

“What are you thinking?” Tenzin asked, his voice just above a whisper. He spoke in his father’s language, the language only he and his siblings were fluent in. It had been their secret, their code of sorts for as long as he could remember.“About the girl and just… all of it.”

Kya sighed, clutching her mug closer to her chest.

“I kind of hate this.” She muttered. “All of it.”

Tenzin glanced back at his family. Soon they would be coming in, ready to craft a plan with the optimism and radical positivity they’d all tried to adopt, with varying levels of success, in honor of his dad. There would be no room in that plan for their petty gripes. It was only here, only with her, that he’d let himself sink into despair. Maybe this is what they could do together. Maybe this is what they’d always given one another. She would give him her worst. And he’d do the same. That’s what they could do. That’s what they could hold.

“Me too.” Tenzin shook his head. Kya smirked beside him, pleased with his honesty. “I think I hate this.”

The last time Lin was in the South Pole, gathered around a fire like this one, it was because they’d lost an Avatar. Now, they’d found the next one, and she here she was. Katara’s house had always been a second home for her. The apartment she shared with her mother and sister was special, it was safe and warm and all of the things a home should be, but there was a magic woven into Air Temple Island. Katara and Aang’s door was always open, no matter what. Even when she was mad at Tenzin or in a fight with her sister, she could sit in their kitchen and find a good listener and a cup of tea.

The last time Lin was in the South Pole, Aang was gone, and Katara seemed to want to join him. Her auntie had taken Appa in the middle of the night, just her and her three children, with a course for her home. Everyone followed without asking if she wanted them to. They needed her for this next part, and none of them could bear to be apart. Toph and Su went over on a boat with Suki, but Lin offered to take Oogi. Tenzin hadn’t gone more than a day without his companion in ten years, it felt wrong to start now. That ride was the longest of her life. When she began, she wasn’t entirely sure she knew the way. Oogi did though, he knew how to find them.

The last time Lin was in the South Pole, she stayed in the big room with Bumi, Kya, Su and Tenzin. Their grandfather’s house wasn’t big enough for everyone to have their own space, but the kids hadn’t shared like this in a long time. On their childhood trips, she, Kya, Su and Izumi shared one guest room and the boys shared the other. They couldn’t stomach separating this trip though. Kya was having nightmares she was ignoring and Bumi had raging insomnia and Tenzin was barely talking. They couldn’t send each other away. So Lin slept on the floor, holding her sister closer than she had in a long time. She didn’t know where Katara slept, or her own mother for that matter. Her vision had been clouded, then. He’d been all she could see.

This trip was different. She was going to sleep on the couch. Tenzin was going to stay in his room, because he had a room here now. Because Katara didn’t live on Air Temple Island. She’d taken the magic with her.

Lin didn’t know this house as well, but the fur blankets felt the same. The fire felt the same, warm against her cheeks in the way only a fire in the dead of a Southern winter could feel. The tea was the same, as were the faces around the hearth, give or take. As soon as they settled in, Sokka jumped into planning mode, and the others followed suit. Lin had watched her family in meetings for most of her life, and in a lot of ways this was no different. Tenzin’s input, however, always surprised her. He’d been an elected official since they were eighteen, and even still a part of her expected to see that short mess of brown curls when she looked at him instead of the stalky arrow. She tried to pay attention, to follow the complexities of the next sixteen years, but it was hard to anchor. A lot was missing. They could all feel it.

Knock, knock, knock

Three raps against the front door silenced any debates. Everyone froze.

“Who could be here?” Toph whispered. She and Lin both pressed their hands against the floor, trying to source anything from any scattered rocks in the ice. It was a failed effort.

Before anyone could answer, the doorknob began to fiddle, as though the perpetrator on the other side of the door had a key. Zuko rose, his hands in an offensive position. Sokka put a hand out, signaling.

Hold.

They waited in baited breath. The world had become more dangerous in the last twenty-four hours. The world knew there was an Avatar. Any unknown had to be considered a threat. Lin prepared herself.

The door opened, and through stepped a man. He was in a red uniform, uncharacteristically clean and crisp. His boots were polished and his gloves a shiny new leather. He was the picture of professionalism. - except for his hair. Even pulled back, it stuck in every direction, ever-overgrown and untamed, despite all of his mothers chastising. It was Bumi. Of course it was Bumi.

“Don’t everyone get up at once.” The Lieutenant jested.

Everyone heaved a sigh of relief, still stunned, as he stepped inside. Lin heard Zuko curse under his breath as he brought a tired hand to his forehead.

“Bumi?” Tenzin blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? I read the paper!” His brother gawked, clambering toward’s the circle. He waved both arms out, dramatically. “Mama!” He cried.

Katara, still a bit surprised, welcomed her eldest into her arms. The two muttered in her native language, one that Lin was still, embarrassingly, not very good at. She caught pieces of their conversation, though it was hard to hear over Tenzin’s sputtering beside her.

“We’ve been trying to reach you for a week!” Kya clipped, from the other side of the fire.

“I’ve been deep in an undercover operation. I was literally underground!” Bumi explained, still riding the adrenaline of his entrance. “Oh, Tenzin, Kya.”

Bumi squeezed his mother’s arm and made his way to his siblings. Though Tenzin seemed reluctant, he let himself be tossed into a group hug. Slowly though, he seemed to relax into it. Tenzin clung hard to his brother’s arm, and Kya slumped deep into his shoulder. She hadn’t seen the three of them together in a long time. There was something about it that hurt now, that made it all feel more real. Here they all were, tossed back together like scattered pieces of a broken machine that had lost its engine.

“Thank the spirits you’re here.” Kya muttered, her face muffled by her brother’s shoulder. Though they were speaking in his father’s language, Lin had heard it enough growing up to follow.

“You think I’d let you guys do this without me?” Bumi smirked, though it was short-lived. He peeled back, straightening his brother’s collar. “Spirits. Tez, you’re not alone anymore. What the fuck?”

“I know.” Tenzin shook his head.“Very much, what the fuck.”

After his siblings left the hold,  Sokka, Toph and Zuko each gave the boy a hug. He was the first baby, and in a way he always would be. They felt a certain level of responsibility for the wild child that would never quite go away, especially now. She smiled, fondly, as they each welcomed him back. Just before he was going to sit, Bumi locked eyes with Lin- perhaps for the first time in months. He practically beamed.

“Is that Lin?” He gawked. “What are you doing here? Come here!”

Lin shrugged, pretending to be irked as the warrior tugged her into an embrace. They both squeezed too hard, as was their tradition.

“Lieutenant.” Lin smiled.

“Detective.” Bumi nodded, mock saluting.

Seemingly satisfied with his entrance, Bumi turned back to the circle.

“Now can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” He asked, waving a hand. “What are we supposed to do? What is this?”

“If you sit down, we can tell you.” Tenzin scolded, gesturing to the pillows around the fire. “We were about to talk about it.” Bumi shrugged, and obliged.

“Okay, here’s what we know.” Sokka began, once they’d res-settle. “One week ago, the White Lotus visited Chief Tonraq and Senna’s home and confirmed that their four year old daughter, Korra, is the Avatar. She’s displayed three of the four elements already, which is something we didn’t know was possible at this age.” He paused, making a face she couldn’t quite decipher. No one had moved or talked since he started the debrief.  The energy of the room had turned on a gold piece. “This information has been corroborated by the White Lotus along with myself and Katara.”

“By corroborated you mean you met her?” Bumi clarified. He’d switched into what Sokka deemed his military voice.

“Yes.” Katara nodded. Her voice had a levity Lin hadn’t heard in a long time. “She’s a sweet girl. Lots of energy. Right now, our top priority is keeping her safe. We weren’t anticipating seeing a new Avatar so soon, neither was the rest of the world.” She ran a hand across her braid, a habit she’d had as long as Lin could remember. “The next few years are going to be… delicate.”

“I mean, yeah.” Kya pipped up, picking at the coals with a piece of wood. “We have an Avatar but she can’t do anything. When will she debut?”

“We’re following a plan we made with your father.” Zuko cleared his throat. “We’re still going to attempt for that to be her sixteenth birthday, like the Avatars before him. He was fairly adamant about that part.”

“What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Bumi asked, fidgeting absent-mindedly with the edge of his blanket. He could never quite sit still. “People will start to put it together when a Water Tribe girl starts fire bending.”

“Yeah, we can’t exactly hide her for twelve years.” Kya added, sitting back against her hands. “It’s impractical.”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Sokka nodded, pulling out the notepad he always had on him. “Her parents want us to keep this as quiet as possible.”

“Well that’s delusional.” Kya snorted.

Lin locked eyes with Tenzin, who had a similar face of shock. It wasn’t like Kya to be snide like this, nor was it like her to want to get involved in politics.

“We are going to respect her parents wishes and keep her life as normal as possible for as long as possible.” Katara said, firmly. Bumi shrunk, slightly, in his seat.

“They just found out their baby is the Avatar. The ground just fell out from under them. We are the only people alive who understand what their lives have become and it’s up to us to lead them through it. They love an Avatar now. Everything is changing.”

The water bender pressed a hand, unconsciously, to her necklace. Lin took in every word. Her voice was strong, not a hint of the waver.

“Now I’ve met Korra, I delivered her mother, I’ve known her family for decades. She was already apart of my community but from this point forward she’s family. And she’s a child.” Katara continued, moving her hand to her heart as she stared out at the flames.

“None of us chose this and neither did she. I know this is hard, I know it’s confusing, but she’s in it with us now, end of story. She’s not a problem or something to fix. She’s our family now. We have to be gentle.” She turned to her two oldest children. “Do you understand?”

“Yes. I get it.” Kya huffed, blowing a loose strand of hair from her face.“Loving an Avatar sucks, can we move on.”

“We’re just respecting their wishes.” Tenzin asked, his shoulders already hiked up to his ears. They were two seats away from one another, but it didn’t matter. You could feel the tension start to simmer across the fire. “What’s so bad about that?”

Lin tensed. Across the circle, Sokka seemed to deflate. Katara rubbed a tired hand on her temples. It had been a while, but not much had changed, it seemed.

“I just was saying that they should know what they’re getting into.” Kya argued, matching Tenzin’s irritation.

“Dad wouldn’t want this to consume her life just yet.” Tenzin countered, growing taller in his seat. “I’m confident in that.”

Beside her, Bumi audibly cringed. This, she could follow.

“Oh no please, Tenzin, enlighten me.” Kya sat up on her knees, her voice sickly, condescendingly sweet. “Tell me all about what he’d say.”

Tenzin and Kya didn’t used to fight like this. They’d always pushed each other, tested one another like most siblings would, but it was never like this. And then their dad died, and it seemed that this was the only way they knew how to talk to each other. Something broke between them, and antagonizing became their only language. Lin didn’t get it. There was no reason they should blame each other for their pain, but they did. She hoped it would pass after the first year. By the second year Tenzin and Lin were already splintering, there was no space to fret over the inner workings of his family system. But that was all years ago.

A sinking feeling festered in Lin’s stomach. She’d hoped it would pass. She figured it had to. But it didn’t. Her mother had mentioned once or twice that they’d been having a hard time, but she hadn’t seen it in along time. And now she was right in the middle of it. 

“Kya come on-” Tenzin rolled his eyes.

“No no,” She continued, her eyes wide with contempt. “What would your dad say about this.”

Lin winced. It wasn’t often that she felt stuck, but right now, between them, it felt unavoidable. She found herself wracking her brain for something, anything that could deescalate, and came up short. It seemed everyone around the circle was dong the same.

“Hey-” Sokka started, attempting to quell their fighting, but it was too late. They weren’t kids anymore. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Tenzin crossed his arms.

“Isn’t it though?” Kya wrinkled her nose.

“Let’s just move on.” Teznin shook his head, trying and failing to ignore her.

“Why?” Kya scoffed. “Because you know I’m right”

“Spirits, just calm down.” The air bender lamented, pinching the bridge of his nose.“You’re being so immature.”

“Are you seriously trying to reprimand me right now?” Kya shook her head. Her brother shrugged, poorly feigning nonchalance.“Tenzin, I could throw you through a wall.”

“Okay, guys, maybe let’s take a breath.” Bumi offered.

“No, Bumi,” Tenzin said, evenly. His voice was icy cold. She barely recognized it. “If she wants to try she can.”

“Those are bold words for someone surrounded by ice.” Kya warned.

“Guys-” Katara warned, but her words fell on deaf ears.

“I’m not the one who quit.” Tenzin spat back. “Or wait, what are you calling it? Retirement?”

Okay. Lin sighed. This had to end.

“You little-” Kya started to stand, but was quickly forced back down by Lin. While cruel, Tenzin’s jab about her break from battle training did make subduing her much easier than it had been in the spars of their youth.

“Hey!” Lin yelled.

Now she had their full attention. She kept a hand firm on Kya’s shoulder, and pushed Tenzin back with the other. It was a little awkward, both because they were all on their knees, and also because all of the Air Temple Island siblings towered over her in height, but she held strong. She’d ended far worse fights with less.

“It’s fine.” Lin said, turning to each of them, forcing them to look at her eyes. They both seemed so shocked, so caught off guard that they were listening. “You’re both fine.”

The room was quiet. Bumi and Zuko had stood in the commotion, but now watched on as she talked them down from the proverbial ledge.

“Kya, knock it off. Tenzin, shut the fuck up.” Lin said, dropping her hands.“You’re both way too old for this and it’s embarrassing.”

Kya shrugged it off, retying her hair nervously as she slumped back into her seat. Tenzin, on the other hand, turned bright red, suddenly self conscious about the entire affair. Both seemed miffed, neither willing to make eye contact with anyone, least of all each other. 

“Let’s keep going.” Lin said, realizing she was still in some sort of loose control of the room. Her mother looked grateful.

“Right. Yes.” Tenzin coughed, still blushing as he stared at the fire. “We have a lot to get through. Sokka?”

Their unlce blinked. He glanced around for a moment, deciding internally if this was going to be the moment they discussed what just unfolded. After assessing it would not be, he cleared his throat.

“Okay…” Sokka started, finding his words.The warrior gave Lin a quick wink which Lin knew meant thank you, and snapped back into planning mode. “So, uh, as I was saying…”

And though to an outsider, it may have seemed impossible, they continued with the meeting. Tenzin, ever the compartmentalizer, continued to give feedback and information when necessary alongside everyone else. Kya had a harder time getting back into the saddle, but after about twenty minutes even she was contributing again as if nothing had happened. If there was one thing their cobbled family could do, it was rally. Lin was prepared to spend the rest of the night in her fog of nostalgia and unease, half-listening until it was time for bed.  She wanted to be here, she should be here, but it had been a long day and a longer night.

Of course, she wasn’t the only one who was having a hard time sitting with all of it. After an hour after the fiasco, Lin felt a rough hand tap her shoulder. Bumi gestured for the hall, and stood up. Quietly, Lin followed. The rest of their group was so wrapped up in a mild-mannered debate about hypothetical timelines, they didn’t take much notice of their disappearance.

Lin followed Bumi to the kitchen, still unsure of what was to come but eager to lean into the mystery. Katara wasn’t the only person who carried the magic of Air Temple Island, it seemed to be strong in each of her children, most of all Bumi. When they were children, she looked up to him a great deal, though not for the reasons people might think. He was a kid who had a hard time, a kid who was labeled difficult and loud and all in all too much. Lin was none of those things, his polar opposite in most ways. But Bumi knew how to have fun. He knew how to make anyone had fun. He saw the world in a way she didn’t.

As they grew up, against all odd their career paths began to converge and the boy she had little in common with became the man who understood what she was trying to do better than most. He knew what it was like to live in the shadow of a legacy, to want to prove yourself and to find it in service. He became someone who was easy to talk to, someone who wouldn’t judge her. His approval became everything, in a way, because he understood what it meant for her to succeed from the inside.

And then Tenzin broke up with her. And Izumi broke up with him. And he chose his brother. And she chose the princess.

And now, two years later, when he asked her to slip out of the meeting, she followed. He was still that guy, pseudo-older brother that was cool and broke curfew and let her drive when she was ten.

As soon as they shut the door, Bumi and Lin burst into laughter.

She didn’t even realize it had been mounting, or that she’d found it funny at all, but it seemed that the ridiculousness of all that was transpiring that seemed to catch up with her. Lin shook her head. It wasn’t funny, nothing about it was funny. They were in their twenties, that fight was a sign of deep emotion turmoil. And yet.

“Okay.” Bumi said, steading his hand on the kitchen island as he caught his breath. “Is it just me or did they get worse?”

“From when they were kids?” Lin raised an eyebrow. She leaned back against the counter, mulling. “Yes and no. They would have actually fought two years ago though.”

“Fair…” Bumi frowned. He waltzed to the burner and inspected the pot of tea over it. “So… this counts as growth, then?”

“Some, I guess.” Lin shrugged. Bumi poured two cups and handed one to her, which she took gladly. “I think they get a pass this week.”

“Yeah.” Bumi sighed. He cradled his own mug delicately in his hands. For a moment, a fraction of a second, he looked just like his dad. But Lin wouldn’t say that, she couldn’t.

“How… how are you feeling?” She said, instead. They didn’t really do this part, not that she really did this with anyone, but it felt like the kind thing to do. Also, she was curious.

“I don’t know.” Bumi admitted. He looked out the dark window, into the cold winter storm. You could barely make out the lights of other homes, bright glowing beacons in the snow. It occurred to her now that she didn’t even know how he got here. “I’ll feel better if I meet her I think. It’s weird.” He clicked his tongue. “What about you?”

“I feel weird too.” Lin chewed on the inside of her cheek. “But I’d feel worse at home so… here I am.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Bumi smiled. “Plus,” The warrior continued, moving to sit atop the counter. “I have to figure out how to wrangle those two hog monkeys, apparently.” He shook his head. “Thanks for that.”

“Oh it was nothing,” she said, shaking off the praise. “I’ve broken up playground fights worse than theirs.”

“Still, buggy.” Bumi said, using an old nickname. He sat back, letting his head rest against the tile wall. “That was great. We’re kind of a mess.”

“We’re doing okay.” Lin consoled.

They weren’t, but that wasn’t going to be solved tonight. She couldn’t fix that. She couldn’t fix much of anything, actually. But they could do something else. Just behind him, Lin had clocked the one thing that they could do to fix their immediate reality.

“Hey,” She motioned with her cup to the top shelf. A devilish smile crept across her lips. “Want to spike our tea?”

“Spirits, you’re my favorite.” Bumi whooped, his energy returning in tenfold. He jumped into action, grabbing the bottle of fire whiskey and uncapping it. Before pouring it into her cup, he hesitated. “I can’t be a bad influence anymore if you’re twenty-one right?”

“Nope.” Lin decided. “You’ve done all your bad influencing already.”

“Great.” Bumi grinned. After two generous pours, they clinked their cups and tasted their concoction. It was not the best thing in the world, but there were far worse things. Like trying to attack your sibling, for instance. Neither of them had done that tonight.

They both sat on the counter, shoulder to shoulder. In a few minutes, they’d have to go back to the circle, back to their confusing, muddled existence. Back to their family that was both overflowing with joy and also had the people that had completely and utterly destroyed their hearts. They’d started on near opposite paths, and yet now they walked the same road. 

Bumi sighed.

“It’s really good to see you, Linny.” He said, tousling her hair like he used to, the way he would when the world was small and the biggest people in it were him and Izumi.

Lin swatted his hand, almost on instinct.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too Boom.”

Chapter Text

A few months ago

THE FUTURE OF THE AIR BENDERS IS ENGAGED: INTERVIEW WITH THE SOON-TO-BE MR. & MRS AIR NOMAD

Master Tenzin, the twenty year-old United Republic councilman and sole living air bender, announced his engagement to Air Temple Island resident, Pema, 20. Our sources report that Pema arrived on the island at eighteen, eager to devote her life to the preservation of the Air Nomad culture. She and Master Tenzin reportedly met during a morning meditation and have been quietly together for about a year.

Though Master Tenzin has historically kept his private life out of the public eye, he and his fiancé have agreed to one sit down interview on the island with our reporters, with the stipulation that we do not discuss politics or the couple’s future (i.e, air nomad children).

So first of all, congratulations to you both! How are you feeling about the big day? Have you set a date?

Pema: Thank you! It’s all just so exciting. This will be the first public ceremony on the island in some time so there’s some pressure, but it’s a task we feel ready for. I’m looking forward to weaving together all of our customs. We already have some creative ideas to make sure all of the pieces of us are represented.

Tenzin: We’re hoping to have the ceremony in the spring. Everyone in the Republic will be welcome to attend.

Not all of our readers may know this, but Air Nomads did not get married. How are you feeling about this break from tradition? Were you thinking about your father’s choice to marry your mother when you proposed?

Pema: As an actolyte, it’s very important to me personally to make sure I am honoring the Air Nomads in every facet of my life, so ensuring that their legacy is incorporated into this ceremony is of the upmost importance.

Tenzin: My father’s people didn’t get married, but there are many aspects about their way of life that do not fit with how our life looks now. My father found a way to weave their beliefs into his life and that’s what I intend to do as well. They had similar traditions that we can draw from to ensure they’re with us in spirit.

Speaking of legacy, Tenzin, this will be one of the biggest milestones, both for the United Republic but also for your family,  since Avatar Aang’s passing three years ago. I’m sure that while this is exciting, it’s also bittersweet.

Tenzin: I feel confident that my father’s presence will be with us on the big day. And as for the Republic, I’m hoping that our ceremony can bring about some joy and healing for everyone. I know if he was here with us today he’d be excited.

Pema: The island was my home even before I was with Tenzin. The actolytes welcomed me in and became my family when I needed it and I will never forget that. We talk about Aang every day. He’ll be here with us.

I know I can speak for the Republic when I say we’re excited and grateful for you both. My final question before our tour of the island- Tenzin, you are a child of possibly the most known group in the world, often referred to as the Heroes of the Hundred Years War, how many big names we can expect on the guest list?

Tenzin: My extended family is invited, as is the rest of the Republic. We want this to be an inclusive event.

And barring the theme of inclusivity, is there anyone that won’t be getting an invitation? Political rivals? Exes, perhaps?

Tenzin: If you’re referring to the Beifongs, I can assure that that as close personal friends of my family, they will all be invited.

Pema: The more the merrier!

Present

The South Pole was always cold, but winters seemed to dial everything up a thousand notches. Bumi got on the first boat headed to the Water Tribe as soon as they docked, meaning he didn’t have time to grab any of his winter coats or supplies. The ride up had been… humbling, to say the least. It gave him time to think. Time to reflect on what was about to happen.

His siblings, it seemed, had not taken the same care in their approach.

Kya fled as soon as the meeting concluded, darting down the hall as soon as their uncle called it a night. It didn’t take long to find her though, there weren’t many places to go. It was still snowing outside, and even as a water bender, Kya had her limits. Bumi walked slowly down the hall of his mother’s house, taking in the decor and the photos on the wall. He hadn’t spent much time here, a few weeks here and there, but that was it. This wasn’t home to him the way Air Temple Island had been. The way Kyoshi and Caldera and Republic City at-large all still were. His grandfather’s house felt like home. It had familiar smells and sounds as it did when he was a kid. This house was different. It was a good different, it meant his mother was growing, was healing and moving and not stagnant in her grief, but it wasn’t home, not quite yet.

One of the first things Katara did when she bought this house, was install a healing room in the back for practice sessions and emergencies. It was outfitted with all the new toys and test dummies, the perfect in-house space for whenever she wanted to try something out. Bumi didn’t spend much time in here, naturally, but his sister did. It didn’t take much to guess this is where she’d go if she was in a funk.

“Hey.” Bumi said, knocking on the door as he opened it. Kya looked up from her post. She was sitting on the floor, running water through a practice dummy with it’s chi paths mapped out. She stopped, momentarily, at the sound. “Can I join you?”

“Sure.” Kya shrugged. She returned to her work, the soft hum of water bending filling the silence as he settled on the other side of the dummy.

“So…” Bumi cleared his throat. He hadn’t seen his sister, or any family, for that matter, in about five months. It felt longer than that, though. She seemed different, sharper, than she had been. But she’d been different for a while, maybe it was easier to think the change was recent, and not an old, four year-old wound. “They gave me your letters when we completed the mission. You’re running a division now? Big stuff.”

“I really just means more work. But yeah, it’s exciting.” Kya smiled softly, her eyes still focused on the model. She was running her hands over it’s chest, letting the water flow through the chi paths that started in the heart. “How was it? Being off the grid and all.”

“It was cool. Really cool.” Bumi sat back on his hands. It had been. It was also hard, not in the ways his job normally was, but in the silence. He’d been alone with his own thoughts for maybe the first time in his life, and he had to keep being with them. But that wasn’t for her to hold. “It’s crazy to be so… separated. To just shut it all off for that long.”

“Yeah.” Kya said, though there was something unreadable in her tone. “So, you’re okay?”

“Oh, come on-” Bumi rolled his eyes, prepared to shrug off her concern with a quip, but her look stopped him.

Kya met his eyes with something different. She was concerned.

“Just tell me you’re okay.” She said, firmly.

Bumi blinked. He forgot, sometimes, how much she’d already been through. How many of his wounds they shared. Kya was a healer, it was her job to put people back together. It was hard sometimes, likely on purpose, for him to remember that he’d been one of those people. She’d saved him before, back when he was younger and  more impulsive. She’d saved him. His dad had been one of those people too. But they couldn’t fix him. Not this time.

“I’m okay.” He said, earnestly. Bumi chewed on the inside of his cheek. “So… How’s it going with June?” He asked, eager to change the subject.

“Good.” Kya smiled, softly. Seemingly done with her work, she returned the water back into the bowl and wiped her hands on her dress.  “She wants me to move to the North.”

“You should.” Bumi encouraged, lounging back on one of his mother’s furs. “What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t know, everything.” Kya snorted. She laid down across the floor, propping her elbows up on a sitting pillow.

“Go for it.” He insisted. Bumi loved June, and even more than that he loved love. He loved big gestures and going for it, no matter what anyone thought. There had been a time where he would’ve changed everything for someone, every single piece of his life. He still would, honestly. “What do you have to loose?”

Kya thought for a moment, fiddling with one of her bracelets.

“I guess not much.” She shrugged. “I don’t have a ton saved for a big move like that.”

“Ask Tez to take out your cut of the house money.” Bumi offered. Their family home on Air Temple Island had been owned by their parents. After Aang’s death, it went solely to their mother, who gave the three of them joint custody of the property. When it was clear no one was going back, the actolytes who ran the island asked if he could buy it from them, which they obliged. For reasons entirely unclear, Kya never took her cut of the money. 

“He’s not giving that to me.” Kya laughed. Bumi sat up, frowning. How did they get here?

“He would, if you asked.” He offered, folding one knee to his chest. “If your finished yelling at him.”

“He started it.” Kya spat, sitting back up.

“Be gentle.” He chastised, without thinking.

“You be gentle.”

“I am gentle.” Bumi corrected. “I’m being gentle right now with you.”

“Well stop.” Kya crossed her arms. “I’m not a baby.” She said, in their mother’s language.

Bumi raised an eyebrow. He didn’t have a plan when he came in here, other than to reconnect with his sister. But now, it seemed, they were doing this. Outside, they could hear the wind whipping through the air, the storm was picking up.

Carefully, he moved the dummy out from between them and sat closer to his sister. For a training room, it was incredibly comfortable, adorned with pillows and blankets at every station.

“Fine.” Bumi clicked his tongue. He put a hand on Kya’s shoulder. “Think about it like this. We all get to go home after this. We can forget she exists for the next twelve years, if we want. Tenzin doesn’t.” Bumi took a breath. It had been the komodo elephant in the room all their lives. Tenzin would train the predecessor. This was what he was for. “And he is a baby.” Bumi added, earning a smirk from his sister. “So be nice to the baby.”

“I’m not a baby.”

Bumi and Kya both tensed, their eyes snapping to the now-open door. In the doorframe, was their brother, as chipper as ever, carrying a tray of tea.

“Did you hear any of the other part of that or just last bit?” Bumi asked, debating in his head which was the better answer.

“Enough.” Tenzin said, taking a seat on the blanket across from them. He shoved the tray in their sister’s general direction. “Here.” He said.

Bumi tried not to look surprised as he watched Kya assess the peace offering.

“Thanks.” Kya mumbled, taking a cup. He let out a not-so-subtle sigh of relief. You’d think they were four, not twenty-four.

“I’ll give you the money too. Obviously.” Tenzin said, taking his own cup. His face still warped into a serious sort of sour that Bumi didn’t like that he was used to. “Only reason I haven’t is because we all have to be there to take it out of the bank. You two don’t exactly visit.” He added, spitefully.

“This again.” Kya huffed.

“We’ll be there soon, Tez.” Bumi said quickly, trying to smother any lingering tension. He took the last cup off the tray. His brother brought three, which meant he’d either overheard them earlier, or made a very educated guess. “We’ll do it before the wedding.”

“Yeah it’ll be a reverse-gift.” Kya snickered.

“Oh, hooray for me.” Tenzin rolled his eyes. Though his tone was not the most positive, Bumi knew he was just as excited as they were. His little brother had a hard time with wanting. He could blame his air nomad roots, but it was deeper than that.

Something happened to each of them when their dad died. And it wasn’t because he was the Avatar. It wasn’t because of what it meant for the world and for Tenzin and the pressure it put on each of them to be better and be carriers of a nation in all the ways that could mean. It was because their dad died. It was that simple. They had a dad, and now he was gone. And they were all still there.

Tenzin envied his siblings. He needed them desperately, and saw that as a weakness. He never reach out, never invited them to visit or to help. Kya hated him for it. Bumi tried not to let it bother him.

Kya was angry. She blamed herself for what happened. For not being able to save him. And she saw the peace that had settled in Bumi as a concession of some sort, and the anxiety that wreaked havoc in Tenzin made her guilty of her own grief. She’d lash out if they came close. They didn’t understand.

Bumi was numb. He pushed it under the rug. Unlike his siblings, he was familiar with the feeling of never being enough, of never having proof that you did what you were supposed to. He felt bad that Tenzin hadn’t realized that yet, but he couldn’t bring himself tell him that the doubt would never settle. Kya was unpredictable. For the first time in his life he couldn’t read her. She was like a starving animal or a wound that wouldn’t heal. So he did what he’d always done, the thing he’d learned from his father. He left. They blamed him for that. He understood.

A content silence had settled between the three of them. The storm, still racing outside, clattered against the windows. The sound of the wind mixed with the soft lap of the water in the healing pools around them, creating a symphony of noises so unique and yet so familiar it had lulled them into a precarious peace. A peace Bumi was about to break.

“Do you think…” He hesitated, trying to find the words. They hadn’t talked about it yet, not the three of them. They had to. “Do you think she’ll be like him?”

Kya tensed beside him. Tenzin leaned onto his knees, setting his cup down delicately.

“Do you want her to be?” He asked, earnestly.

“I don’t know.” Bumi mused. He twirled one bead on his bracelet. “It can’t tell if this is more grief or if it’s healing to be… nervous about the fact some piece of him is still out there.” He sighed. “Maybe it’s both.”

“Mom wants us to meet her tomorrow.” Tenzin ran a hand over his bald head. It had been years and Bumi was still not entirely used to the arrows. “She says it’ll help.”

“I think she’s right.” Bumi nodded.

“I had a dream about dad.” Kya pipped up. She’d been eerily silent in their conversation, which Bumi chalked up to the apparent weirdness of it all. Now, it was clear, she was mulling over this.

Tenzin locked eyes with Bumi, mirroring his complicated shock. They both waited for her to continue.

“It was before we found out about her.” Kya clarified. “I didn’t think much of it at the time, but when Sokka told me.. it fell into place.”

“What happened? In the dream?” Tenzin asked, eagerly.

Kya took a breath.

“We were here, in the South, on a boat out in the bay.” She began, closing her eyes as she spoke. “He was casting a line, which was funny because I don’t think that man has ever fished.” They all smiled, softly, at that detail. Bumi couldn’t imagine his father on a fishin trip, let alone holding a rod. “And I asked him why we were out here. And he said he were waiting. I asked him for what, and he said that I needed to be patient.”

“And?” Tenzin asked. There was a sort of desperation in his voice Bumi couldn’t blame him for.

“We caught a fish.” Kya sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Or- it wasn’t a fish, it was this… ball of light. But in my dream I understood it to be a fish.” She elaborated, her eyebrows knitting together.

“I wanted to keep it. To convince him to keep it.” Kya continued, her voice growing shakier. “He looked like he did before he got sick, but in my brain all I could remember was how much he couldn’t eat or sleep and I just…” She took a breath. Bumi put a hand on her back, rubbing small circles like his mother used to. She wiped her eyes and continued. “I begged him to keep it. But he wouldn’t. He made me let it go.”

A new silence enveloped the room. The storm had grown quieter, even as it raged outside. Even the water around them had settled. Everything was still.

“Huh.” Bumi said, at last. He unfolded his knee, which had gone tight and tense while hearing the dream. His whole body felt sore now, like it had been rigid. “Did he say anything else?”

“Just that he was sorry.” Kya said, deflating. She curled both knees to her chest and rested her chin on top of them. “Every time I dream about him, he says he’s sorry.”

“Does this happen a lot?” Tenzin asked. He was sitting as straight as a board, stiff in every movement.

“No.” Kya shook her head. “It did a lot at first, after he died. But he hasn’t… visited me in a long time.”

“Huh.” Bumi pondered.

Tenzin set his cup down, the ceramics clinking together seemed to break whatever quiet calm had descended across the room. All at once it seemed they could hear the storm and the water and the creaks of the house again. Bumi was endlessly curious about the scope of his brother’s abilities, but it was always hard to broach the subject with him. He’d been just scratching the surface of talking about it with his dad before he died.

“I’ve had a long day.” Their little brother said, standing. “I’m going to turn in for the night.”

“Tenzin, c’mon,” Bumi asked, reaching a hand up and beckoning him back down. “Just stay up a while.”

“No, Bumi,” The air bender sighed, unwilling to met his eyes. “I have a lot to do tomorrow. I have to get some rest.”

“Tez, come on.” Kya frowned. “Just a little longer?”

Though Bumi was impressed by her extension of the olive branch, their efforts proved to be futile. After smoothing out his robe, their brother still walked out the door.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Tenzin said, over his shoulder. “Goodnight.”

With that, he left. Bumi laid back down with a groan, frustrated with how it had all played out. They used to go on vacations, just the three of them. Now they couldn’t last more than twenty minutes in the same room.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell him at first.” Kya sighed, collecting their cups and stacking them back on the tray. “He can’t handle the fact that it wasn’t him that dad reached out to.”

“It’s good he knows.” Bumi said, sitting back up.

He wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t true. Tenzin needed to be a good Air Nomad, the Air Nomad, and yet the connection to the other side, to the spirits and all that came with that, had never been his strong suit. Aang was never worried about it, but Aang was gone. Kya, on the other hand, had always been spiritually inclined. It drove Tenzin slowly insane.

Bumi wasn’t entirely sure where he fell with it all, and for a long time he was comfortable with the ambiguity. Now though, it seemed, he was being forced to contend with that. He twisted one of his beads, debating whether or not to share just how much he’d been facing all of it.

“I have dreams about him too.” Bumi admitted. “But they aren’t like yours, it’s mostly just memories.”

Kya studied him, for a moment, eyes wide.

“How do they feel?” She asked.

Bumi thought about it. He wasn’t sure how much of that was normal, which is why he didn’t think much of them until now. His mother said she still had dreams about her mother, but they probably weren’t like his Kya’s dreams about her dad. Having the Avatar for a parent was a funny thing, and it seemed that didn’t stop.

“They feel good.” He said, simply.

“Yeah. Mine do too.” She smiled, faintly. Feeling satisfied with the tray, Kya sat back onto the blankets, her eyes staring straight up at the ceiling. “Okay, I promise I’ll be gentle with the baby.”

She left out that it was because of the dreams, and the fact that she got to see their father again and he didn’t. And that t it was because she knew, deep down, that this would be harder for him, and it would keep being harder. And that was because it was his tiny body that she used to carry on her back after long days. She left out the fact that it was because, though they were joking, he was their baby brother, even if he was acting like he was old and wise and grown up. That it was even more important, actually, because of that. She didn’t need to say that part.

“Thank you, Kya.” Bumi said, earnestly. He laid beside her, tracing the patterns of the wood ceiling with his eyes.

“But only if you promise not to be gentle with me.” She added. Shoving her elbow into his arm. “I can handle it.

“I know you can.”

“That’s not a promise.” She countered.

Bumi sighed. What she was asking was like oil in water. It was like fire to ice. There were things that could not mix, could not go together. Watching his siblings loose their father had been worse than loosing his dad. They were aimless, absent and angry. They were lost. Their lives had been destroyed, and they were only now putting them back together, one in a way that felt good and stable, and the other in a way that felt forced and muted. He couldn’t be cruel to them if he tried, not anymore.

The world had taken too much from his brother and sister. It had been so unkind to his family. So he’d be gentle. He’d choose that.

“I promise, Kya,” he lied.

He’d be gentle with them forever.

“Is this crystal?” Zuko asked, bringing down some glasses from the kitchen shelf. “What kind of glass is this?”

“Hm?” Katara looked over, from the sink. “I don’t know, someone got them for me.”

“Can we find out?” Zuko asked, glass still in hand as he settled beside Toph at the kitchen island. He passed her one. “This is amazing.”

“It can’t be that amazing.” Toph furrowed her brows, rotating the glass between her hands.

“Just feel it!”

Katara shook her head and returned to the task. She and her brother were doing the dishes. Zuko and Toph had offered, multiple times, but she wasn’t about to let her guests help on the first night of their trip, not yet. Her brother though, was a different story.

After the fiasco that was their first meeting, Katara was prepared to launch into another discussion with her children, but Bumi stopped her before she could start down the hall. He’d asked to deal with it, he’d promised to fix it. She let him try. All three of her children had been talking, without large upset, for at least ten minutes, so there was a start.

It was hard to say yes to Bumi, to give her child more to hold. It was hard to watch Tenzin and Kya look at each other with such contempt. All of it was hard. They were in so much pain, and instead of sitting in it with each other, they’d made one another the scapegoat, the punching bag. This wouldn’t be fixed in a night.

Still, it was nice to have a full house again. It was nice to have her friends at the kitchen counter. It was nice to be washing dishes for more than one person. There were parts of this, pieces of this, that felt like her old life. And it was nice to sit in that.

“I just really don’t like our glasses right now.” Zuko explained, leaning on his elbows. “Mai says I’m being paranoid but they break too easy. Iroh’s getting too big for the thick ones but I don’t want them to shatter around him.” He lamented. “Okay, I’m going to figure this out. Sokka, can I borrow your have a pen?”

“How is it possible that grandparenthood made you more neurotic?” Sokka teased, passing him a pen and paper. “I thought it was supposed to relax you.”

“To his credit, he is more relaxed than with Izumi.” Toph countered, setting the cup down. “Which isn’t saying much, because he was a ball of nerves.”

“Children are fragile. And impressionable!” Zuko huffed. “And Iroh sets a lot of things on fire.”

“He just needs an outlet.” Katara offered, leaning against the sink. “Izumi put him in judo, right?”

“It helped with getting his energy out, but not with the attitude.” Zuko slouched in his seat, running a tired hand through his hair. “He wants to go into the military.”

“To be like his dad?” Sokka asked.

“More likely to be like your son, Katara. He’s his total hero” Zuko lamented. Katara’s eyes narrowed. He put his hands up in mock-defense. “And Bumi is great, sure, but we’ve gone through three curtains in the last month because of Iroh’s ‘training.’”

“How does Kaito feel about that?” Toph asked.

Katara returned to her task. She learned a long time ago that weighing into Bumi and Izumi’s relationship, or lack thereof, only ended poorly. It was perhaps her hardest test of motherhood to let go when it came to her eldest, and one that she’d proved to have passed, not without tribulation. Whatever she felt or didn’t feel was right, she wouldn’t say it. Not anymore. That was her one gift to him, her one mercy. Right now, he seemed to have earned it.

“No clue.” Zuko said. Her friend, its seemed, had not come to the same conclusion when it came to his child’s love life. “I don’t really ask.”

“Father in law of the year.” Toph chided. Sokka laughed, all but abandoning his post to lean against the kitchen island.   

“He’s a very good man and a good father.” Zuko said, seriously. “If they ever decided to get married, though, I wouldn’t complain,” he added. “It would give me much less to stress about.”

They all knew that no matter what Izumi did, good or bad, traditional or not, it didn’t matter to her parents. She was their shining light, brighter than Agni himself. What the public thought about the whole ordeal was another story. And what the press had said about his baby, what it would keep saying if she didn’t get married, was enough to turn Zuko grey. He wanted to protect her from everything, all the time. And he couldn’t from this.

“Well, except for the cups.” Toph countered.

“And the curtains.” Sokka added.

“I hate both of you.” Zuko huffed. He splayed out across the table, dramatically. “Katara, give me something, what can I do? When does this end?”

“Izumi’s lapped my kids,” Katara said, turning back to the table. “I don’t know what advice I can give you as a grandparent or an in-law.”

“Bumi’s still a year older and Tenzin is getting married.” Zuko argued. She raised an eyebrow. “Please. You love giving advice, you have great advice.”

“What about me?” Toph countered, bumping his shoulder. “I have good advice.”

“I don’t like your advice.” Zuko sniffed.

“That’s because my advice is to let go.”

“Exactly.” Zuko shook his head. “Katara?”

“I mean,” Katara leaned on the other side of the kitchen island, “you just saw my adult children attempt to take each other’s eyes out so I don't think I’m in a position to give out sage wisdom.”

Zuko frowned, any semblance of stress or panic being replaced by concern. Sokka put a hand on her shoulder.

“They just need a moment,” Toph said, softening immediately. “This is hard stuff.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Katara sighed, twisting the rag between her fingers. “Your daughter stopped them.”

“She also didn’t tell me she was coming so,” Toph placed her hands on hers, stopping her fidgeting. “I’m not exactly parent of the year.”

“You know that was a snap decision.” Katara shook her head. The sight of Lin dismounting Appa sent a pang of bittersweet nostalgia through her heart. It was a surprise, but one that felt so indisputably right. She should be here. He’d want her here.

“They’ll be okay.” Zuko said, carefully. “They’re working it out with each other because they know they can. They know it’s a safe space.”

“It’ll keep getting better. You’re all doing great, I promise.” Sokka affirmed.

“Thanks, guys.” Katara muttered, though she wasn’t sure she believed it. She glanced at the clock, cringing slightly. “It’s getting late. We should probably start to wrap up.”

“Wow, yeah.” Sokka glanced up. He sighed, presing both hands on the table and standing.“Okay, the train to Hakoda and Kanna’s is leaving station.”

“Do you need anything before I go?” Sokka asked, doing one last scan of the room.

“We’re good,” Katara shook her head. He would have asked before, he always would have asked. Still, a part of him saw her different now. She’d been twisted in his head. This was his way of fixing it, the way he couldn’t when their mother died. He’d made her be brave then, now he it was his turn. He looked at her and saw his lost little sister. It was sweet, she supposed, but also made her want to break something. “Thanks, though.”

“Okay.” Sokka sighed, taking Toph’s arm under his and hoisting the bags in the other. “We’re off, see you guys in the morning.”

“Bye guys.” Zuko raised his mug from his place at the kitchen island. He was staying with her tonight. He always stayed with her. Katara turned back the dishes. “Bye Tenzin, see you tomorrow.”

Katara’s pulse spiked.

“Tenzin?” She called, whipping back around. Low and behold, her youngest child was about to walk out the door behind her brother, sheepishly trying to escape. “Honey,” She started, gently, trying to mask the pleading lilt in her voice. “I told you you could stay here.”

“There’s not enough room.” The air bender shrugged. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, scratching the back of his neck in a complicated assurance. He was so resigned, so stagnant. Katara’s heart ached in her chest at the sour look on his face. “This way Lin can stay in my bed. Everyone has enough space.”

“What happened?” Katara asked. She’d moved to the doorway and took his hands in hers. She remembered a time when she could hold his whole being on her chest. Now, she had to look up to meet his eyes. “Let me fix it,” she offered, rubbing his shoulder with her hand. “I can talk to Kya-”

“Mama.” Tenzin sighed, brushing her hands off. He picked at the strap of his bag as they idled in the doorway. “Please, let it go. It’s not a big deal.”

Katara chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“It is a big deal.” She pressed.

Tenzin hesitated, but he still turned away.

“Goodnight, mom.” He said, at last.

Tenzin passed Sokka and Toph, who had been waiting, uncomfortably, and walked out the front door.

“I’m sorry.” Sokka spoke up, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize-”

“It’s fine.” Katara said, curtly. She was holding her arms tight across her chest, the exhaustion of the week finally seeming to catch up to her. “Let him know I have granola here, for tomorrow. If dad doesn’t have vegetarian breakfast options.”

“Of course.” Sokka nodded. “See you in the morning.”

“Night.”

Katara walked back into the kitchen, where Zuko was still waiting, silently.

Her heart was pounding in her ears. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or scream. It didn’t make sense that this, out of everything, was what could get to her. And yet.

“Hey, Katara-“ Zuko was saying something, but she wasn’t listening. She turned back to the dishes, methodically drying each glass.

His face just kept flashing in her head. She’d asked him, she’d told him not to go and he did it anyways. He was supposed to be the one who listened. She was loosing him. He was getting married in three months to someone she’d never met. He wouldn’t do this to Aang. He wouldn’t do this he-

She dropped a glass.

“Fuck!” Katara cursed, throwing her hands in the air. “What the fuck!”

Katara squeezed her eyes shut. She was almost waiting for the tears to come, but they didn’t. She was just angry. Her knuckles, still wrapped about the sink rag, were white as she squeezed it.

“Hey-” Zuko started. He was up and next to her in seconds, an arm outstretched in case she became unsteady.

“I’m fine.” Katara put a hand up. She pressed a hand to her temples, trying to collect herself. “I’m fine.”

Zuko frowned, seemingly unconvinced, but listened.

“Why can’t he just-” Katara lamented, clinging to her shoulders. “I’m his mother and I can’t-”

“I know.” Zuko whispered, gently. He stooped down and collected the fallen glass, placing it gingerly beside the others on the counter. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Her heart was still thumping a mile a minute, but the tears still wouldn’t come. Katara took a deep breath and took a seat at the island. Zuko got a glass of water and set it beside her.

“He’s so lonely, Zuko.” Katara said, at last. She leaned heavy on the island, letting her head spill into her arms.  “He’s so lonely and he won’t let me in. I’m failing him.”

“You’re not.” He said, quickly.

“I am.”

Zuko thought for a moment, deciding his next words carefully.

“He thinks he has to carry it alone.” He said, staring ahead. “All we can do is show him he doesn’t have to.”

“He’s so much like his dad.” Katara lamented. All of her children were, in different, conflicting ways. “It’s incredible. And it’s infuriating.”

“Yeah, yeah he is.” Zuko smiled, fondly, for a moment. His face always grew softer when he talked about Aang. The universe separating the two of them felt almost as violent as separating the Avatar from Appa. They had been each other’s destiny, and now he was gone. He was like a splintered branch, trying to grow in a new pot. He’d get there, he’d grow, but it would be different

“But we got him to open up, didn’t we?” Zuko bumped his shoulder with hers.

“We did.” Katara sighed. She took a sip of water, slamming it  down slightly to hard against the counter. “Spirits, I’m a mess.”

“You’re not.” He countered.

“I am, but it’s okay.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Zuko said, a seriousness enveloping his face. “This is what friends do. This is what I’m here for.”

“Thanks, Zuko.” Katara smiled, sadly.

They had always been friends, always been good friends, but it had changed in the last few years. Sometimes, in her darker moments, she wondered if their newfound closeness was each other’s warped way of trying to find Aang in each other. She decided she didn’t care.

“And I know it’s not the best time... But Katara, I seriously I need the name of these cups.” He said, gesturing to their glasses. Katara snorted. “I’m serious! They just fell what like five feet? They didn’t even crack!”

“You’re completely ridiculous.”

“I’m practical.”

“Those things can coexist.”

Chapter Text

Tenzin woke up late. It was rare, these days, for him to wake up after the sun was already in the sky, but there was something about the South that always lulled him. His great-grandmother says it was because he was born here, though Tenzin is fairly certain it’s because of the cool rooms and the thick blankets.

He stumbled down the hall of his grandfather’s house, his wool socks puttering against the stone floors. Toph and Hakoda were already up, whispering in the kitchen over their morning tea. They got him a mug and explained that Sokka had gone to get Suki at the docks, but he’d be back to get him soon.

Everything about this felt like he’d stumbled back in time. It had been so long since he was a kid like this, sitting at a kitchen counter, waiting to be picked up. He could almost picture his father, their lunches under one arm and his work bag under the other, ready to shuffle them out the door to go to the Water Tribe children’s center for the day while they worked. He could see Bumi slink through the kitchen, grabbing a few snacks while Kya complained that he got to spend the day training, not taking into account the fact that they were ten and seven and he was about to be thirteen. The weeks they spent in the Southern Water Tribe each year were special, sacred, even, and about two lifetimes ago.

Tenzin got ready quickly, fastening each bead and tie with practiced ease. He’d gone back and forth for a long time on whether or not to wear Air Nomad clothes for today, and ultimately decided that putting it off was futile. This was the first day of the rest of his life, he should show up accordingly. By the time Sokka returned with his aunt, Tenzin was practically bouncing in the hallway. He wasn’t nervous, necessarily, but buzzing. He wanted to start.

“Look at you, Tez!” Sokka smiled, looking over his outfit as he came through the door. “Wow, he’s dressed up. Should I change? Is this something I should look better for?”

“She’s four, she doesn’t care, sweets.” Suki shook her head, coming in after him. She stopped in front of Tenzin, a complex look washing over her face. He’d gotten used to it, since his father died. It was a little bit of sadness and a lot of wishing they could take it away. “Oh, buddy.” She said, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Hey, Auntie Suki.” Tenzin squeezed back. “It’s good to see you.”

“I heard today’s the day, huh?” She sighed.

“Yeah.” Tenzin nodded, trying to ignore how his pulse spiked. “Are you coming today?”

“Oh, no.” She said, blanching slightly. Sokka put a comforting hand on her shoulder, which told Tenzin this had not been the easiest subject- which he understood. “I have some work to do today. I’m going with Toph a little later this week.”

“But good luck, okay?” Suki rubbed one of his arms, encouragingly. “I’m really proud of you, bud.”

“Thanks.”Tenzin nodded, picking at the strap of his bag absent-mindedly.

The walk over to his mother’s house was quiet. Sokka didn’t say much-or maybe he did, Tenzin wasn’t really paying attention. He just kept focused on putting one foot in front of the other. That was all he had to do.

When his mother’s house came into view, his siblings were already outside, as was another familiar face. Sokka let out a small laugh at the sight, picking up speed just a bit to join them. It seemed that sometime between last night and this morning, the sky bison had taken it upon himself to leave his stable by Hakoda’s and making his way to Katara’s house. He didn’t listen to anyone anymore. Upon seeing the warrior, Appa let out a grumble which Tenzin knew meant what took you so long.

“I didn’t know you brought the big guy.” Kya said, scratching one of Appa’s legs. She was wearing a fairly traditional water tribe dress today with a half moon embroidered on the front. Bumi was beside her, wearing what looked like one of Sokka’s old sweaters, though it was hard to see through all of the sky bison fur.

“I figured he deserved to be here as much as any of us.” Tenzin shrugged.

“Do you want to bring him today?” Sokka asked. He was at Appa’s face, scratching his nose as they made up for lost time.

“I don’t know.” Tenzin thought aloud. “What do you guys think?”

Kya and Bumi blinked, somewhat surprised that he was asking for their input. They looked between each other and then back at him.

“I think it could be nice.” Kya mused.

“We can call him to meet us, if it goes well.” Bumi offered. A familiar shiver ran down Tenzin’s spine.

If it goes well.

Tenzin wasn’t exactly sure what he was worried about. He wasn’t even sure if he knew what it going well could look like. He wasn’t sure if any of them knew. He didn’t know what it going poorly would be either. The worst thing had already happened.

“Is Lin coming?” Tenzin asked. He’d shoved both of his hands in his pockets and started playing with one of his father’s old marbles.

“She said she’s going to wait.” Kya explained, brushing the hair off of her skirt. “Go over with her mom in a few days.”

Tenzin could understand why she came to that conclusion, how she convinced herself that he and his siblings had more ownership over this moment than her, but he wished she hadn’t. But he couldn’t ask her to come with him. That’s not what they were anymore.

“Hey, okay, I’m here.” Zuko said, barreling out of the house. “Sorry I’m late, everyone- AH!”

Before anyone could respond, the sky bison leaped forward, knocking the Fire Lord off of his feet. Tenzin and his siblings stifled a chuckle, Sokka burst out laughing.

“Okay, okay,” Zuko huffed, getting up and wiping the snow from his pants. “I missed you too, buddy.”

“He never gives me a welcome like that.” Bumi crossed his arms in mock-upset.

“That’s because you want it too much,” Kya teased. “You need to pretend you don’t want the attention.”

“Alright,” Sokka clapped his hands together, walking with Zuko over to where the three of them had congregated. “Everyone here? Are we ready?”

Tenzin looked at his siblings, waiting for their confirmation, before nodding. In every other facet of his life, he took point. He was the air bender on Air Temple Island and the sole representative for his people in the council. He was, literally, the only man for his job. He had the most knowledge, the most weight on his shoulders.

Except here. Except with them. He was the youngest, the baby. And though they would never, ever say it, that meant he had the least amount of time with their dad, with the Avatar. It was a fact. He had five years less than his brother, three than his sister. And they didn’t care that he was an air bender, in fact in most cases that counted against him. He was their baby brother, and he would always be their baby brother. It was annoying, but it was also comforting. He didn’t have to decide anything alone here, they wouldn’t let him if he tried.

They started the walk over in silence, Sokka and Zuko in front, and the three of them walking behind.

“It’s really good of you guys to do this.” Zuko spoke up, a few minutes in. The tone had shifted on a gold piece as soon as they started off. It was as if they were all on the edge, on the precipice of the rest of time. “I know it’s…”

“Yeah, we know.” Bumi nodded. Kya normally hated when people spoke for her, but not him. Not with this.

“If you need to leave at any point, you can.” Sokka added, glancing back to make sure they all heard him.  “Senna and Tonraq won’t be offended. They knows this is hard.”

“We’ll be okay.” Bumi smiled his famous, crooked smile. He bumped Tenzin’s shoulder, shocking him out of his skin. “Right guys?”

“Yeah.” Tenzin forced out.

“I’m good.” Kya nodded. Her eyes were fixed at her feet, one step after the other.

“Okay.” Sokka nodded, a little too quickly. “Okay. Yeah. Great.”

He was nervous, anyone could tell. Tenzin almost felt compelled to apologize for the fact that this was his job, that his lot in life had led him to being the escort for the Avatar’s kids meeting the new Avatar. Zuko was nervous too, but Tenzin  knew that was more because he hadn’t met her either.

“Do you guys think this is a crowd where I can call her pops?” Bumi blurted out. “Or will that tank the mood?”

“Bumi.” Tenzin sighed. He knew he was trying to bring some levity, to bring life into their weird, silent trek- which was kind, but ridiculous.

“What?” Bumi stretched out his hands. “It’s funny. I’m hilarious.”

“Uncle Sokka?” Kya pipped up, ignoring both of her brothers.

“Yeah, kiddo?” The warrior turned around, his boots crunching as he pivoted. They were lucky that the snow storm from last night seemed to have stopped, meaning that instead of it falling between them, the world was blanketed with a beautiful fresh snow.

“Does she… does she know about who we are?” Kya asked, her voice small as she fiddled with her gloved hands. “To… an Avatar, I mean.”

Tenzin looked at Bumi who seemed equally surprised. He cursed himself, internally, for not asking earlier. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“She…” Sokka slowed down, trying to think of how to explain. Tenzin could practically hear the gears turning in his head. “She does not.”

“We should’ve done this earlier,” Zuko cursed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She knows that Aang was the Avatar, and that Katara trained him. But that’s… that’s all.”

“Bumi, Kya, Tez…” Sokka stopped walking, meeting each of their eyes as he started to explain. “After a lot of talk, we decided it would a lot for a kid her age to learn that her predecessor has kids.” He swallowed. “That he had a family that he isn’t with anymore. She’ll come to understand it one day but she’s too young.”

Tenzin took a deep breath.

“We understand.” He said. There wasn’t much else to say, much else to debate. It made sense. Whatever else he felt or wanted to feel didn’t matter.

“Do we?” Kya scoffed.

Tenzin rolled his eyes, a wave of exhaustion hitting him like an ostrich carriage. He was already over this.

“Kya, come on.” He huffed.

“She’ll see his arrow!” She argued, pointing to Tenzin. “Won’t she know what that means?”

“She’s four.” Tenzin barked. “She doesn’t know what a lot of things are.”

“She’s meeting you today the same way she met us and your mom, as people who are going to be apart of her world now.” Sokka explained, gently. “It’s imperfect, but we’re trying to honor her parents wishes.”

Kya was quiet for a moment, her eyebrows pinched together.

“She doesn’t know he was my dad.” She lamented.

Tenzin chewed on the inside of his cheek. This was the grief talking, he knew that. Grief that festered and ate away at her heart. Where his sister wore everything, every feeling on her sleeve. He buried them all deep, cut away the complexities and strived for practicality. She saw it as heartless. He saw it as the way he survived. How she couldn’t see that was a mystery to him.

“It makes sense, Kya.” Tenzin reasoned, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You have to see that.”

“Don’t pander to me like I’m a kid.” Kya said, shrugging off his hand.

“I’m not pandering,” He huffed, “you’re just being irrational-”

“Tenzin.” Bumi said, calmly. His hand was on his shoulder, firmly. He spoke in a sharp tone. “Leave it alone.”

“She’s the one freaking out!” Tenzin argued.

“I don’t care.” He said, curtly. Tenzin blinked.

“But-”

“We’re not doing this to each other.” Bumi sighed. “That was the deal, yeah?”

“He-” Kya started.

“Yeah?” Bumi echoed, meeting her eyes with a warning glance. Kya nodded. Tenzin did too, albeit a little defeated. “Okay.”

Bumi let go of both of their shoulders, and motioned for them to keep walking. Tenzin was still fuming, slightly, but tried to keep Bumi’s words in his head as he put one foot in front of the other.

“No one has to do this today.” Sokka said, as they started back up.

“We’re fine.” Bumi smiled, slightly forced. “Right guys?”

“Yeah.” Tenzin huffed.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Kya shrugged.

Though he was rising above, Tenzin still opted to walk slightly ahead with Sokka and Zuko for the rest of the trek. It was petty, sure, but it also kept him from wanting to attack his sister, so he chalked it up to a win. Besides, it was easier to clear his head without Bumi’s ramblings.

“What was the deal?” Zuko asked, after a while, pulling Tenzin from his trance. Sokka looked up, seemingly equally surprised by his voice.

“The deal…” Tenzin mused. He ran a tired hand over his head. He’d almost forgotten it, honestly. “It was a promise we made to each other when things got…hard in the first year. Anything dad-related is off limits. How we talk about him or don’t talk about him. If we go to memorial events or if we don’t.” He explained. “We can fight about anything else, but not him.”

“Huh.” Zuko clicked his tongue. “That’s a nice rule.”

“Yeah,  well.” Tenzin laughed, hollowly. “It would be better if we followed it, I guess.”

“You’re trying.” Zuko argued. “I think that counts.”

“You should ask them if I’m trying.” He shook his head. Tenzin glanced back, Kya and Bumi were talking, walking in perfect harmony as though nothing had happened.

“I think they’d say yes.” Zuko offered. Tenzin raised an eyebrow. “I know that you don’t always get along but I promise, you guys are doing fine.” The Fire Lord looked out across the tundra. They had reached the outskirts of town. In the distance were a few houses, spread apart. In one of them, was the Avatar. 

“Loss…” Zuko sighed, “it changes the way you are with your family. The fighting means you still care. If you just gave up when they made you upset, if you stopped showing them you were sad… that’s when you worry.”

Tenzin chewed on the inside of his cheek. Before he could respond, he felt Bumi’s arm swung over his shoulders.

“You okay, Tez?” Bumi asked, pulling him closer.

“Fine.” He said, freeing himself from the hold.

“Kya and I wanted to tell you thank you for bringing Appa,” Bumi continued, skipping up beside him. “Right little bird?”

“Yeah, yes.” Kya smiled. She walked up onto his other side, giving him a small jab with her elbow. “That was nice of you.”

“Of course.” Tenzin nodded.

It was the closest they’d get to apologies, and for maybe the first time he was okay with that. Their tiff didn’t matter. They had bigger metaphorical fish to fry today.

As they approached the house, Tenzin felt the pit in his stomach fester and writhe. His uncle took a breath, and knocked on the front door.

Bumi and Kya were right there. They were right by his side.

He just needed to put one foot in front of the other.

If Bumi had to use one word to describe today, it would be seven words, because today didn’t obey the laws of science or time or laws. He was meeting his father’s predecessor. His dad’s spirit, or rather the spirit that his father merely borrowed for his short tenure on this mortal plane, was placed in the frame of a girl from his mother’s tribe. And now they were meeting her, this girl who would be able to do the things his dad could do, the girl would be able to talk to his dad, one day, and get guidance from him.

That part was the weirdest, honestly. That his dad would be some sage, some priest-like figure for this girl. She’d have metaphysical problems and he’d give her metaphysical answers. Like a spirit or a ghost would. But that spirit would be his dad. His dad, the guy who taught him how to body-sled and climb trees and who he once saw break his arm by proving he could still do the mail-chute slide in Omashu at thirty-five.

And sure, he’d seen Aang be wise and spiritual in a way that felt otherworldly and at times a bit frightening, but he liked to think that those parts of him were the smaller pieces. That most of him was his cheery, overly-optimistic dad who at times moonlighted as a powerful bridge between two worlds.

It was hard to reckon with the fact that the universe had decided that the other piece was the most important part. That the spirit-y, scary part would be saved and passed on and the radiant, goofy, love-filled pieces would be cast away. The happy-go-lucky, dad-side of Aang would die prematurely because of the cosmic rules that declared the hundred years he spent asleep counted. That side of him was gone. That side didn’t get to see Tenzin and Lin graduate or see Kya master another healing form or Su learn to drive. Nope. Just the weird, other pieces would get to be passed on.

For this young girl, his dad would be a teacher and a sage. And if she was lucky, the other part would be there somewhere too. And he’d teach her the silly things that he should’ve been remembered for. That Bumi would remember him for.

Sokka knocked on the door. Bumi heard Zuko mumble a Fire Nation prayer under his breath.

“Hello!” A young woman answered the door. She had a big smile as she shuffled them all inside. “Let’s get you out of the cold. Welcome in, welcome in.”

“Hey Senna,” Sokka smiled back, giving her the traditional Water Tribe handshake. “Thank you for having us.”

“Good to see you too.” She nodded, before turning to the rest of the crowd. “Fire Lord Zuko, it’s an honor to have you in our home.”

“The honor is all mine.” Zuko smiled, shaking her hand. “And please, just Zuko is fine.”

“I’ll try.” Senna smiled. She turned to his siblings, who all stood up straighter. Bumi could tell she was trying really hard not to stare at Tenzin. After a lifetime of watching people try not to stare at his brother, even the not-staring became obvious. It didn’t phase him anymore. Senna reached out her hand. “You must be Tenzin, Bumi, and Kya. We’ve heard so much about you all. It’s so nice to put faces to names.”

“We’ve heard many great things about you.” Bumi said, when it became clear that neither of his siblings were answering. “Thank you for having us.” He grinned.

“Thank you for coming.” She nodded just a little too quickly. “We know this is… thank you for coming.” She echoed. Bumi smiled, gratefully. They all knew why they were here. “My husband, Tonraq, is in the back with Katara and Korra. I’ll lead the way.”

Senna started quickly down the hall. As they walked, Bumi took in the space. Their house was small, a lot like his grandfather’s in shape and decor. They had traditional tapestries lining the walls, and a small fire pit in the main room. It was warm. It was a home. This was a family’s home. And they were here to complicate that.

The hallway was narrow, meaning they walked in twos. Bumi ended up next to next to Senna, which he hadn’t meant to do. Then again, it was better than one of his siblings. His main goal today was to get them through this. He was holding onto their mother’s words. Meeting her would make this better. He just needed to get them through this. This would make things better.

“We have snacks, if any of you are hungry.” Senna rambled, as they walked. “I know it’s early but we have jerky and some crackers out-” she blanched, stopping short and turning to his brother “Wait- you don’t eat meat-”

“It’s alright.” Tenzin said quickly, wholly uninterested in having more attention. “I love crackers.”

“He really does,” Sokka said, backing him up. “He’s like, king of crackers.”

“Oh, oh good.” Senna relaxed.

They made their way to the end of the hall in a more comfortable silence. Senna slowed in front of the last door. Bumi felt his heart skip a beat.

“I’m going to go check in and let them know that you’re here.” Senna explained. “If you wait just a moment, I’ll be right back.”

As soon as the door closed, Zuko elbowed Sokka.

“King of crackers?” Zuko teased, making a face.

“I don’t know.” Sokka muttered. “I panicked. This is so weird.”

“Very weird.” Zuko nodded, quickly. “Very, very weird. I think I’m kind of freaking out. Do I seem like I’m freaking out?”

“No you seem really cool. Suave, even” Sokka consoled. Bumi glanced behind them, checking to see if Kya and Tenzin were paying attention. They seemed to be in their own respective worlds, for better or for worse.“Do I seem cool?”

“I think you’re both doing great.” Bumi pipped up, wiggling his eyebrows, mockingly. “Super suave.”

“Thanks, Boom.” Sokka winced, rubbing his temples. “You know we’re-”

“I’m twenty-six, guys. The big two-six.” Bumi said, making the numbers with his fingers. Sometimes, especially when things got hard, it seemed like he was forever sixteen in their eyes. Always the scruffy kid who needed saving of some sort. But he wasn’t anymore. “We don’t need you guys to have all the answers.”

Before either of them could respond, the door creaked open.

“Okay,” Senna started, “we’re-”

Just as she was about to let them in, a blur of blue whooshed past her and jumped onto his uncle’s legs.

“Sokka!” The girl yelled, reaching up at him.

“Hey kiddo, oh it’s so good to see you.” Sokka leaned down, scooping the girl into his arms. Bumi glanced around, watching as his siblings took her in. Here she was. After all this time.

“This is my daughter, Korra.” Senna sighed, sweetly.

"So buddy,” Sokka cleared his throat, focusing on the girl in his arms. “We have some people I’d really love for you to meet.”

Zuko took a breath beside him while Tenzin stood up straighter.

“These are my friends, Zuko, Bumi, Tenzin, and Kya.” Sokka said, pointing to each person. “Can you say hello?”

“Hello,” Korra said, softly. She settled deeper into Sokka’s chest. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hey, Korra.” Zuko said, finding his voice. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Bumi kept looking at his siblings, trying to read their cryptic faces. They were like their father, frustratingly hard to read when they wanted to be. Bumi was anything but unreadable, he was loud in every sense of the word. And maybe, sure, it was easier to focus on them than himself, to worry about their feelings instead of face his own, but this was what he’d promised to do. He’d look after them today. Tenzin and Kya were both in almost a trance-like state, frozen on the girl like she was a fire and they were moths.

Suddenly, like a spirit or a cruel joke, their mother appeared in the doorway. They had known that she’d be here. She’d told him, this morning, that this was where she was going, and even still it felt discombobulating. 

“Hey, everyone.” Katara said, calmly. He wanted to reach out to her, but hesitated. She wasn’t his mom right now. Bumi glanced at his siblings, who seemed to draw the similar conclusion in their heads. He assessed her from afar, he couldn’t not. She seemed at ease, happy, even. Though her presence threatened to send him spiraling.

“So, I see you’ve met our daughter.” Another person appeared in the doorframe. Now there were nine people in the tiny hallway, all shuffled together as they had perhaps the weirdest of meetings Bumi would ever attend. “I’m Tonraq. Thank you for coming.” He extended his hand to Zuko, who shook it firmly, and then to the rest of them.

“Of course.” Bumi uttered, when it came to his turn. Tonraq and Senna couldn’t be that much older than him, just a few years maybe. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.

“Honey, let’s let them sit, yeah?” Senna said, wrapping her arm around Tonraq’s.

Slowly, they spilled into a meeting room. Tonraq was high up in the counsel, and it made sense that he’d have a home office of sorts to conduct deals. Bumi took his seat beside Tenzin.

“We met at the Winter Solstice a few years ago, right?” Kya said, walking with Tonraq to the cushions.

“We did.” He nodded, joyfully. “It’s nice to see you again. You’re all so grown up.”

“Well, yeah.” Kya said, somewhat curtly, as she took her seat beside Bumi. “It’s been a while.”

“Korra,” Katara spoke up, saving them from whatever was about to transpire. “Honey, do you want to show them some of your pictures?”

“Yeah!” Korra smiled, scrambling out of Sokka’s lap to a small desk in the corner. She collected a few pages and brought them back to the group. Korra gave each of the pieces of paper to the newcomers, far more relaxed in their presence as they were in hers. Tenzin took his sheet almost mechanically.

“This is me and Katara in the snow,” She said, pointing to the drawing in Bumi’s hand. Her small fingers traced the page, where sure enough two figures, were sledding. “And this is me and my friends building a fort, and this is me bending fire!” She squealed. “Did you know I can do that? I’m the Avatar.”

For a fraction of a second, it felt like every heart on his side of the room broke. She was the Avatar. Not their dad. Not Zuko’s best friend. Her.

And then, for whatever reason, Bumi’s started to come back together. His mother was right. He needed to meet her. He needed to hear it. This person, this little girl with her whole crazy life ahead of her, was the Avatar. She needed their help. Her parents needed their help. He would help them. This would be the way through.

“We did.” Bumi said.“That’s very cool, Korra.” And he meant it. It was a lot of things. But it was also cool.

“I can bend water, fire, and earth.” Korra continued, leaning against his knee. “But one day I’ll be able to learn air. Katara says she knows really, really a good teacher.”

Tenzin tensed beside him. Bumi glanced at his brother, who was staring at his balled hands.

“I heard Katara’s going to teach you water bending.” Kya said, giving Bumi a small wink. It was hard sometimes, with it all, to remember that she was Tez’s older sibling too. “You know, she was my water bending teacher, too.”

“Really?” Korra ran up to her, her eyes wide. “You’re a water bender?”

“Yup.” Kya grinned.

“She’s the best.” Korra smiled. She beckoned for Kya’s ear, who obliged, leaning down to hear her secret. “Though sometimes she’s really serious.” Korra whispered, poorly. Sokka chuckled.

“Oh, I know.” Kya chuckled, smirking at her mom. “The most.”

“Do you guys bend anything?” Korra asked, whipping back around to Bumi and Tenzin.

“I don’t,” Bumi said, answering for them both. “But I do a lot of other things.”

“Like Sokka and my mom!” Korra clapped. “Do you throw a boomerang?”

“I can.” Bumi grinned. “I can show you sometime.”

“Cool!”

“Are you trying to poach my student, Boom?” Sokka asked, leaning over from his place.

“Hey,” Bumi said, putting up his hands, “some say your student becoming a teacher is the best form of flattery.”

“No one says that.” Kya laughed.

In all the commotion, the laughter and the levity, things started to feel okay. They started to feel doable. This wasn’t like their other trips South, but it wasn’t awful either. Senna and Tonraq and Korra felt like old friends, like family. They could do this.

But in the commotion, the laughter and the levity, Bumi had forgotten what he’d been there to do. Get them through the day. Get Tenzin and Kya through the day. Kya seemed alright, but he’d forgotten to watch the one person in the room who had, until now, done a good job trying to disappear.

“Wow.” Korra said. Her voice was softer than it had been, older almost. She was standing right in front of Tenzin, pointing the arrow on his forehead. Bumi looked at his brother, who seemed almost paralyzed. “These are really cool tattoos.”

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Everyone watched, waiting for his answer.

“Honey, it’s not nice to-” Senna started.

“It’s okay.” Tenzin said, quickly. “Thanks, Korra.”He leaned down slightly and let her trace the arrow on his forehead with her hand. He’d let dozens of kids do this before, but this felt different. She guided a tiny hand down each side, gently touching the blue pigment in his skin.

“My dad has tattoos too.” She said, taking her hand off of his head. “But he says I can’t get them ‘till I’m older. When did you get yours?”

“I…” Tenzin cleared his throat, trying to find an answer. “I was much older than you.” He decided. The answer ‘fourteen’ was probably not what her parents would want to hear- and he was a late bloomer.

Bumi wracked his brain for something, anything to say, but came up empty. He kept looking around the room, praying that someone would have an answer. No one did.

Korra was still fixed on him, tracing the designs on his hands.

“Such a pretty blue.” She muttered to herself.

“Thanks.” Tenzin whispered. He was blinking rapidly. “I… I’m going to use the restroom.”

Quickly, he moved out of her grasp and bolted out of the door. There was about a two second beat before Bumi, Kya, and Katara were on their feet.

“We’ll go.” Bumi said, meeting Kya’s eyes with a nod.

“I’ll come with you.” Katara offered. She seemed understandably hesitant to let them go without her.

“Katara,” Bumi said, brushing off the weirdness of calling his mother by her first name. “We’ve got him.”He said, in his father’s language. They didn’t talk in it that much anymore, but everything always sounded stronger in the dialect of the Air Nomads. It sounded truer, more honest somehow. “I promise. We’ve got him.”

“Alright, my light.” Katara nodded, speaking in Aang’s language. The words daughter or son didn’t hold the same resonance in their culture, so other terms of affection were often used in their place. Bumi liked that, it felt deeper. His mother sat back down with a new resolve. “Go help him.”

Kya wanted to hate her. She’d planned to, in fact. When her friends back in the Republic asked her about this trip, she said she was going for her family. Well, her mother, at least. Her mother would need someone to help her cook and and clean and substitute for her classes. Her brothers didn’t need her. She was supposed to be the one who could heal. The one you called if things went south. She used to be that person for Bumi. But he didn’t ask for her help anymore. Tenzin never had, and she doubted he would. She was supposed to be the one who could heal. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Kya wanted to hate her. She’d planned to, in fact. When she wrote to June, her girlfriend, and told her, she said she already did. June wrote back saying to keep an open mind. She also said that if she met her and hated her, that she’d hate her too. Because June was good like that. June was on her team. Also, June was a healer, so she didn’t need Kya to be a healer. Which was good, because she wasn’t a good one. Not anymore.

Kya wanted to hate her. She’d planned to, in fact. She planned to hated her on the walk over. She was prepared to when they got to the door and they met her sweet mother with her sweet smile, this poor woman now chained to such an unforgiving fate. She even wanted to when they met, and she jumped into her uncle’s arms like they were family. She actually hated her when own her mother came to the door. And when Senna got to call Tonraq a cute pet name and her mother was next to them, husbandless. Katara and Aang had nicknames too. They had a million. She hated Tonraq when he tried to be nice, tried to be friends or whatever he was trying to do. She hated that perfect little family. The family she was supposed to have. The family she couldn’t save.

But then Korra looked at her. She didn’t just look she beamed up at her, because she was a water bender. Because they were South Water Tribe water benders. The both of them. And she had those gorgeous blue eyes and the faintest smattering of freckles Kya knew were from being too long in the sun after a fresh snowfall. They shared a history. They shared a painful, hard history. They were both survivors, the daughters of a people who’d fought hard for their culture, for their bending, for them. They were both walking in the footsteps of her mother.

And she was just a kid. She was a little girl. Not some great being, not the reason for her father’s end or even her own beginning. She didn’t deserve Kya’s vitriol or guilt. She was just here, working with what she had. And she was so happy. So unburdened. So spirited in the way Kya remembered being, a lifetime ago. And they were going to ruin her, the world, that is. All of them together were going to stack a weight so insurmountable on her shoulders. She had a lifetime of unearned cosmic karma coming her way. She didn’t deserve Kya’s blame.

June had been right. She needed an open mind. June was right about a lot of things.

Not five minutes into their meeting, Kya decided that this could work. Korra could be apart of her family. She could love this girl like an auntie, the way all she did all of children in her mother’s community. Korra was special. She was a clean slate, a fresh start for the world. And that hurt, that was painful, but it was also something different. Something new. Korra was the Avatar now. She could get behind that. She could try. She wouldn’t hate her, at least.

Kya was about halfway through this revelation when the Korra decided to touch her brother’s tattoos.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. She couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about before- the only things that existed were Korra’s tiny hands and Tenzin’s sheet-white face. He looked like he was out of air. The room stilled, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Kya wanted to fix it, she wanted to do something, anything to protect him- and all of them- from whatever spirit-sent confusion this was creating, but she was at a loss. She couldn’t fix this. She couldn’t fix anything.

As soon as Bumi stood up, she was on her feet too. They communicated in a single nod. They had to go after him. This was why she was here. This was what they were for.

They found Tenzin just a few yards away from the house, leaning on his knees as he gasped for air. Bumi knealed in front of him, checking him for any injury that could have transpired in the thirty seconds since he left, but he was intact. Kya approached more cautiously, putting a gentle hand on his back as he heaved in and out.

Kya felt deeply. She grieved deeply. She let everything flow through her like a wave, and then let it wash away. Her brother didn’t. Tenzin let everything fester deep inside him until it did things like this. He saw her emotions as a weakness, when it was how she survived. How he didn’t see that was a mystery to her.

“Tez?” Bumi asked, putting both hands on his shoulders.

“Just give me a second.” Tenzin choked out. He was shivering as he tried to shrug them off. “Just a second.”

“It’s okay.” Bumi said, guiding him to sit down. He took off his coat and wrapped it around him, still keeping close. Kya sat beside them, keeping her hand on his back. They’d get pretty cold soon, sitting in the snow, but that didn’t matter right now. “You’re okay.”

“I feel so stupid…” Tenzin said, into his hands. “I don’t even know what I was hoping for. She’s- She’s nothing like him.”

“Oh, buddy.” Bumi sighed, rubbing his back.

“He’s not there.” Tenzin sputtered, looking ahead somewhere they couldn’t follow. “He’s not here. He’s gone.”

“Yeah, he is. And that sucks.” Bumi chewed on the inside of his cheek as he wrapped his arm around their brother. “But Tez, Korra wasn’t going to change that.”

“She doesn’t know anything.” Tenzin continued, picking at his fingrs. “Even in the air she doesn’t- she doesn’t feel like an air bender.” He cursed, starting to gasp again. “I’ve never- I can’t do this. I can’t do it!”

“Do what?” Bumi asked, his composure waining. “Do what, buddy?”

“I can’t train her!” Tenzin lamented, shaking slightly. “I don’t know how. I can’t do it. I don’t know how.”

Kya studied her brother. Medically speaking, he was starting to hyperventilate. Kya wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen an air bender loose control like this, and she didn’t want to now. She wasn’t winning any sister of the year awards, but she knew how to fix this. This, she could do. It’s what she was for.

“Yes you can.” Kya said, slowly. She shifted so that they were eye to eye. “You can, Tez.”

“No-” He shook his head.

“Tenzin.” Kya grabbed both of his shoulders, shaking them just slightly. He looked up at her. “Yes, you can.” She echoed. “She’ll be older, much older. And you’ll be older too and more experienced.”

Tenzin looked at her with those ancient grey eyes. They were full of such loss, such emptiness and fear that for a moment it seemed impossible that she’d ever been that angry at him. He was her little brother. And he was sad.

“It’ll hurt less one day.” Kya sighed, her voice breaking. She swung both arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. “I promise it’ll hurt less.”

“And if it doesn’t?” He asked, his voice muffled by her sweater.

“Oh, Tez.” Kya leaned back, brushing the tears from her face as she sat on her heels. She frowned. “You have to. I’m sorry. There’s no way around it. You have to, so you will.” She wished she had a different answer. A better answer. A kinder answer. But she couldn’t lie to him. This is what she was for. Kya tugged Bumi’s jacket further over Tenzin’s shoulder. “But I promise you, you’ll do great.”

“You’ve got this, Tez.” Bumi nodded, putting a hand on both their shoulders.“We know you do.”

They sat for some time, just the three of them in the snow. Three dots of blue and orange in a sea of white,  holding onto one another as if they were the only things keeping each other on this plane. Kya hadn’t spent this long this close to her brothers since her father’s passing. It ached like something she longed for and something that hurt.

“Okay.” Tenzin said, after a while. He would always be the one to end it, they knew that. He stood, slowly, wiping the snow from his pants. “Okay.” Bumi and Kya followed, ready to steady him. He winced at their worried faces. “I’m… I’m sorry.” He muttered.

“Oh, come on.” Bumi shook his head. “Please don’t apologize.” Tenzin stared at him, unwilling or too tired to push it.

“Then… thanks.” Tenzin said, softly. He pulled tighter on the jacket.“But I hope you know I’m good, I- I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“We know.” Bumi said, rubbing his pink hands together. He’d been without a coat this entire time, and he wasn’t about to ask for his back. Tenzin held it close, seemingly not ready for temperature regulation  and still dazed enough to not realize it was Bumi’s sweater. “Let’s get back inside, okay?”

“Yeah.” Tenzin took a breath. “Okay. Let’s go.”

With that, they made their way back to the house. They walked in tandem, the three of them in sync for maybe the first time in five years. This wouldn’t fix everything, just like Korra wouldn’t heal everything, but it was maybe the closest she felt to understanding her brother in a long time. And she’d been there. And she’d helped.

“We’re back!” Bumi announced. The adults they’d left behind all bolted up at their arrival with varying levels of stress. “Sorry about that.”

As they all took their seats, Kya mouthed he’s okay to their mother, who hadn’t been able to take her eyes off her youngest since his sheepish return.

“I have more crackers, if anyone is interested.” Senna offered.

“Actually, Korra…” Tenzin pipped up, much to everyone’s surprise. Kya was sure her brother would disappear, as he could with shocking success, until it was time to go home. “We brought a furry friend with us who’s been waiting outside.”

Kya glanced at her brother, who was similarly uneasy, but shrugged. Her younger brother was perhaps the most predictable of the three, but it seemed he still had a few surprises up his sleeve.

Tenzin leaned down, meeting Korra at eye-level.

“Would you like to meet him?”

The four year-old all but shot fire works from her hands.

After Tenzin was born, Aang met with Zuko and asked him to promise a few things. They did this every few years, a meeting between him, Zuko and Sokka to discuss how they would proceed if one of the world leaders were to prematurely fall. Sokka had tasked himself with keeping the contingency plans of every official deemed essential to the preservation of peace- the most integral among them, was the Avatar. Zuko never asked Sokka about how it felt having that job, thinking so intimately about the deaths of his close friends, of his family. It seemed like a hard burden to bear, one Zuko wanted little to do with, and he wasn’t alone. There was a reason Katara didn’t come, and it wasn’t because she wasn’t on the list. 

But this time was different. It was smaller, just the three of them. Zuko would remember every moment, every second of this meeting  for the rest of his life. Aang sat on the other side of his table in Zuko’s office, Sokka to his left. He pulled out two identical books, hand-bound. Aang explained that they had all thirty-six levels of air bending forms that were needed to become an air bender. They had his teachings, the instructions for how to give tattoos and the ceremony that followed. It even had burial practices and a few recipes. He explained that he wanted Zuko to keep one, and Sokka to keep the other.

Zuko asked why. There were many books like this on Air Temple Island, and more across different libraries. They’d scavenged the globe together for every remanent of his culture. Aang grew pensive. He glanced at Sokka, who seemed to understand. It took Zuko longer than he wanted to admit to get it.

There had been many books before, too. Across the temples and in libraries. They’d been abundant, everywhere. But things can change, even if you don’t want them to. Bad things happen all the time. Aang couldn’t afford to be optimistic, not with this.

Zuko asked why. Aang glanced up behind him, at the tapestry that hung behind his desk. It was a painting of his family, of him Mai and Izumi in the garden. He looked back at Zuko.

Just in case.

Ten months later, Tenzin was revealed to be an air bender. Whether Aang knew then, or not, Zuko would never know. A part of him must have, some spirit-woven piece of his friend must have peeked into the future and known to prepare, but regardless it didn’t matter.  Zuko took one book and Sokka took the other, telling no one of the meeting or what they now possessed. Every year that Tenzin grew, Zuko knew they’d need one less chapter, one less writing if disaster struck. But by the grace of the spirits, Tenzin became a master, he received his tattoos and life continued on. Until of course, it didn’t.

Korra was different.

Zuko would spend the rest of his life wishing for more time with his friend, but when he met her he started to long for time with him as a kid. It felt like such a shame that there was no one here to draw any kind of comparison, no childhood friend or parent, even, who could corroborate. He felt like a sort of grief-riddled detective, trying to parse out what was normal four year-old energy and what was a side effect of having the powers of a god. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted glimpses of the spirit she shared with a thousand other people. Actually, he was sure he wasn’t. It seemed like such a complicated role, even when Aang was an adult. It would be cruel to ask a child to carry such a weight. She would, one day, and then maybe he’d recognize someone else in her frame. For now, he would follow Katara’s example. He would be content with what was. He would pull up his metaphorical seat at the table and plan for the Avatar’s future, just as he always had.

When they went outside to see Appa, his side of the room was still abuzz with nervous energy. He kept looking at Senna and Tonraq, trying to gauge if they knew the significance of what they were trying to do. It seemed like they didn’t as they followed their daughter, racing after her with her tiny shoes and a hat that she was fairly insistent on not wearing. Zuko wondered if they did, if they knew what the young son of the previous Avatar, the lone air bender and future teacher of their child, was trying to test, if they’d let him. In the commotion, Katara looped her arm through his, and held tight. He squeezed back, silently affirming her unease. Sokka came up behind them, squeezing his shoulder as he passed. They were all nervous. All buzzing with anticipation for… something. Or nothing. Probably nothing. 

They all went outside. Tenzin brought two fingers to his lips and whistled, long and low. Nothing happened, for a moment. Katara broke from their hold and stepped forward. From her pocket, she pulled out a whistle, and blew into it. In three seconds, they heard a familiar grumbling.

Katara turned back, smiling forgivingly at her son.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” She smiled.

“It’s fine.” Tenzin crossed his arms, miffed as his siblings snickered behind him.

Appa came down gently, far kinder with his entrance than he had been this morning. He lumbered up to the water bender, who met him with a big hug. 

“Oh, look at you.” Katara cooed, scratching his nose. “Hi honey. Oh, I missed you.”

The rest of the party watched on, letting them have their moment. Zuko wasn’t sure the last time Appa and Katara had been together, which sent a pang through his chest. They used to see one another practically every day. Every day for thirty years. He was the only creature alive who’d spent more time with Aang than her.

Zuko looked at the newcomers, who both were in the sort of shock and awe he’d become accustomed to when it came to Appa.

“Korra, do you want to meet him?” Katara asked. Zuko took a deep breath.

The young Avatar stared out, suddenly hesitant as she watched from behind her father’s leg. Zuko made a face at Sokka, who shrugged.

Without a word, Tenzin broke from his siblings and approached her, reaching out a hand.

“We can go together.” He offered. “I promise, he’s friendly.”

Korra took it, tentatively, and they slowly approached the beast. It was maybe the calmest he’d seen her all day. Which could mean a lot of things, he kept telling himself. Even though he wasn’t as spry as he once was, a sky bison was still as sky bison. Still, Sokka, Bumi and Kya stilled beside him, watching cautiously.

“Korra,” Tenzin said, leaning down to meet her eyes. “This is my friend Appa.”

“He’s so big!” She giggled.

“Yeah.” Tenzin shook his head. “Yeah he is.”

The air bender gently took her hand and guided it to his nose. Appa grunted, blowing back her hair which made Korra laugh even harder. She wasn’t afraid, and he wasn’t disinterested. Zuko had known the sky bison a long time, but that didn’t mean he could read him. They watched, in baited breath, as the two got reacquainted.

It was then, in that moment, as he watched the air bender and the sky bison and the Avatar, now three different beings instead of two, that he remembered that meeting, over two decades ago. He’d thought the just in case period of his life had ended. He thought that worrying like this was over. But it wasn’t. Tenzin was alone now. And he was young. Too young. And vulnerable. He needed them to be more. He needed Zuko to be more. He needed Zuko to have that book of his father’s teachings and a contingency plan and all of it so that he could teach her. He needed to be her teacher. And Zuko needed to be ready for anything else. Just in case.

“She seems to really like him.” Tonraq laughed, as Katara and Tenzin were helping Korra climb up Appa’s legs. Bumi and Kya had joined them, much to her amusement.

“It seems he does.” Zuko mused.

“He was Aang’s… right?” Senna asked. Zuko and Sokka shared a look. “I’m sorry if that’s- I don’t mean to overstep but I’ve been doing research and Appa comes up quite a bit.”

“It’s okay.” Zuko said, gently. “He was Aang’s Avatar companion. They’re animals that bond with the Avatar. They love and protect them their whole lives, most of the time.”

“Oh. That’s very nice.”

“It is.” Sokka agreed, though there was a lilt in his tone. Appa hadn’t been the same since Aang died. He was increasingly unhappy with the fact that he was here and Aang wasn’t. They didn’t think he could get over it. Zuko put a hand on Sokka’s shoulder. “It’s very nice.”

“Tonraq, Senna,” Bumi called. All of them were in Appa’s saddle now, peeking out over the rim just as Zuko had done a thousand times over. “Would it be okay if we took Korra on a little ride? I promise it’s completely safe.”

The couple exchanged a hesitant look.

“It really is. I promise you, Appa is very gentle. ” Katara assured, sliding down the bison and rejoining the group. “But we understand if you don’t want to.”

“Go ahead.” Senna said, after Tonraq nodded in agreement. “Just a short ride.”

“Yay!” Korra squealed.

They took some time getting into position. Korra insisted on helping hold the reigns, which led to her being in Tenzin’s lap on Appa’s head, and his siblings riding in the saddle.

"You ready?” Tenzin asked.

“Yeah!” Korra grinned, shaking the reigns with a practiced hand. “Yip yip!”

With those words, they were in the sky. An Avatar and a sky bison in the air for the first time in years.

Zuko’s heart skipped a beat. It skipped several beats. He wasn’t sure he was still standing. He would have convinced himself that it was fake if Sokka and Katara hadn’t been beside him, wide eyes and jaws dropped.

“Did she just say…” Zuko dared.

“Yeah.” Katara sighed. “Yeah she did.”

“Maybe it’s an Avatar thing?” Sokka mused.

“Yeah.” Zuko shook his head. It could be something. Or nothing. He wasn't sure which he wanted. “Maybe.”

Chapter Text

The Fire Nation palace had two wings. One was public. It housed meeting rooms and lavish guest rooms and banquet halls. The other was private. It is for family. It had always been for family, but this was perhaps the first time in at least three generations that it felt like it. Izumi grew up with warmth and care and attention. She was the heir, she didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter. But she was loved while she did it. That was because of her parents, of course. But it was also because of Katara and Sokka and Toph and Suki and Ty Lee. And Aang.

It was all, in a sense, because of Aang.

The call about her, about the new Avatar, came early in the morning, just after dawn. Izumi and Zuko had been sparring, a habit they developed in her childhood and were not inclined to give up. She’d been there when her father heard the news, standing just behind his chair as he clutched the radio. It was Tenzin on the other line, his voice strong, even through the static. He recited the code, that metaphor Bumi thought was a hilarious, and the room fell away.

Everything changed. She’d seen her father in pain before, she’d watched him get tossed around by every wave of grief over the last four years, but this was different. This was something new. He left a few days later on hesitant feet, only grounded by Toph’s presence and the trust that Mai and Izumi would hold down the fort at home. He left. She stayed. And yet the room never really came back into view. She still felt like she was there, hearing those words.

The Avatar was back.

“Mom!”

Izumi blinked. The sound of her child’s voice snapped her back to reality. Her hand was still wrapped around her spoon, but her congee had long grown cold. Iroh was across the table from her, sitting on his knees in his chair in the way he knew wasn’t allowed, waiting expectantly.

“What is it, honey?” Izumi asked, letting the spoon fall back into the bowl. Her mother, who was seated at the head of the table, exchanged a worried look with Kaito by her side, but Izumi brushed passed it.

“Can Auntie Su walk me to school?” Iroh asked, leaning across the table. Other days, she’d correct the behavior, but she didn’t have it in her today. “Dad said I had to double check with you.”

“Is that okay with you?” Izumi asked, turning to the teenager seated beside her son. Su was staying with them until her mother came back from the South Pole. Though the fourteen year old insisted that she would be fine to go, Toph decided that it was too much, and thus the swap was made. Izumi was secretly grateful. She rarely had one-on-one time with, as Bumi affectionately called her, the favorite. 

“I offered.” Su shrugged.

“Yeah, sure.” Izumi sighed. She set a hand on her bowl, slowly reheating it. “Of course.”

“Yay!” Iroh cheered, returning to his congee happily.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Most mornings did with a seven year-old, of course, but this felt particularly out of focus. Since Kaito just got back, he was the one who got Iroh ready for school, who checked his book bag and buttoned each button on his coat. Izumi didn’t love their arrangement, she didn’t love how his role took him away from them, how it made things like morning breakfast and getting ready for school a novelty. She didn’t like that she was final confirmation on if Su could take him to school, and all of the implications that came with it. But it was their life. If there was anything she’d learned in the last seven years, it was to take it one day at a time. One day it would be different, that wasn’t today.

Izumi, Kaito and Mai walked Su and Iroh down to the gates. Iroh attended a primary school in Caldera, just a short walk down the road and into town. A guard would follow behind them, of course, but it was independent enough to quell his borderline-wild-child spirit for now.

Izumi knelt down, pulling her son into a crushing hug. There was a time where his entire tiny body fit in her hands. Time was moving too fast.

“Have such a good day.” Izumi murmured, straightening out his hair as they pulled back. “I love you so much, Iroh.”

“I love you too, mama.” He grinned. She wanted to bottle that sound. 

Izumi stood up, meeting the teen at nearly eye-level. In a twist no one had predicted, Suyin had shot up in the last year. It was a little surreal. Izumi used to spend her summers on Air Temple Island, which often involved a lot of babysitting. Su used to be the baby on her hip, perfectly content to stay back with her and Bumi while the others ran amuck in the yard. In a lot of ways, that didn’t seem to change.

“When you get back we’ll go over your history homework.” Izumi said, brushing a hair from Su’s face, which the younger girl swatted. “Don’t think I forgot.” She winked.

“I finished it.” Su insisted, wrinkling her nose.

“You didn’t.” Izumi smirked. Just because she was missing school, didn’t mean a kid was going to return behind on her watch. “I checked.”

“You used to be fun.” Su grinned.

“When?” Izumi raised an eyebrow. Su rolled her eyes and took Iroh’s hand, deciding their walk had begun.

“Bye.” Su called over her shoulder, shaking her head with a small grin.

“Bye Su, bye Iroh!” Izumi called. “I love you!”

Watching them walk down the road, hand in hand, brought a pang to her chest she wasn’t expecting. She’d rocked them both to sleep, watched their first food and first steps. Su was the last baby. Iroh was the first. And he was hers.

The first person Izumi told about the baby, was Aang.

It wasn’t supposed to be like that, it was supposed to be her fiancé or her best friend or her parent. But Izumi found out the day before she was sent to Ba Sing Se on a diplomacy mission, It was a test of her capabilities, her first real shot at proving herself on a global stage, not as Zuko and Mai’s daughter, but as herself. It was too important to miss. Aang, as fate would have it, was at the same summit. In hindsight, Izumi knows that they’d planned this. They would have never let her go off all alone, not one of them. She hadn’t planned to tell him. She hadn’t planned to tell anyone. The enormity of it all, not just for her but for her family, for her country, for the baby and all that it was destined for, was too much to hold. She was a planner, she looked before she leaped. And now she was in the deep end, treading water.

Izumi had gone to take a late night walk on the palace grounds, hoping to clear her head or find a sign or think of anything else, and there he was. Aang was surprised to see her, but happy for the company. He couldn’t sleep either, it was something about the moon. He commended her on her performance. Things were still just a little off-kilter back then, it all had been since she broke up with Bumi. Aang didn’t hold it against her, but that was never the problem. She thanked him, earnestly, but he could tell something was wrong. He gave her the look, studied her with those ancient grey eyes, the kind that made her certain that he was apart of the universe in a way she’d never be able to understand, a way that was worth the deifying and worship he received. He asked her if anything was on her mind. She told him.

Aang broke into the biggest smile. He pulled her into a hug. He told her how excited he was. And then he saw her face. He saw her fear, her doubt. He sighed.

I was your age when we found out about Bumi…

He’d said simply, his voice soft, almost far away. Izumi took a breath. She’d nearly forgotten. He shook his head, fighting a nostalgic smile. She hung onto every second, every word.

The adventure you’re on, growing up while teaching someone how to do the same, it won’t always be easy, kiddo. But Spirits, is it amazing. It’s so incredible, Zooms. And I promise you, we’re all here. I am here for you, always.

He spoke in that sappy, sweet sort of way he saved for talking about his family. It was exactly what she’d needed. Izumi made him promise not to tell anyone. He didn’t. He kept that secret until he died, and she would do the same. He didn’t get to keep any of the other promises he’d made that night. So that moment would be theirs. That advice would be hers.

They waited until Su and Iroh had gone out of view to walk up back up to the palace. They didn’t always do that, but they did today. The walk was silent, which Izumi didn’t mind. She’d spent so much of the last week in her own head, it was easier to think this way.

“Okay,” Mai sighed, as they got to their wing. “I have to go.” She was already dressed her traditional regalia, ready to enter the day as their Fire Lady. She squeezed Izumi’s shoulder, gently. “We’ll have tea later, okay?”

Izumi frowned. That was her mother’s way of saying you’re doing a terrible job hiding your melancholy, and I’m not letting you get away with it.

“Yeah.” She nodded. Izumi wasn’t dressed for a meeting of any kind. Later, she’d have to change, have to put on the crown and all the adornments that came with it, but not yet. “Good luck, mom.”

Izumi and Kaito walked to their bedroom. He was a patient man. He was kind, he listened, he was open. And with that, if she didn’t want to speak, he wouldn’t try to coax her to. Kaito had been gone for four months. It had been the longest stretch in some time. It was the job. It was what he was meant to do. Izumi was no stranger to this, not anymore, and neither was Iroh. Still, it was both a surprise and a comfort to see his things occupy his nightstand again.

Early in their relationship, Izumi and Kaito had taken to reading the morning paper together, exchanging pages and circling interesting stories for one another. It was precious time, their time. It was one of the things she missed most in his absence. Today, it felt like a sort of respite.

“What do you have on the docket today?” He asked, as they settled in. They were back in bed, each on their side, with different spreads of today’s Fire Nation Times.

“A couple meetings.” Izumi muttered, scanning the top stories. Normally, she prided herself on her knowledge, on her ability to recite every topic, sup-topic and attendance list, but not this week. This week was under an inescapable fog. “I promised my mom I’d rescue her she’s in a trade meeting.”

“Oh, she detests those.” Kaito commented. Izumi wrinkled her nose, but she didn’t say anything. He was from Shuhon Island, one of the richest and most powerful regions in the Fire Nation, and sometimes his noble upbringing showed in his vernacular. Izumi was no better, but she was fairly certain most of her formal prose had been snuffed out by her mother’s general distaste for it and her Republic City family’s teasing. But Kaito didn’t have that. He’d become what he was supposed to, and at no point had he doubted the track. Not in primary school or boarding school or the academy or on the ship.

“What about you, love?” She asked, instead.

“Not much today, honestly.” Kaito sighed. Though many would celebrate the vacation, he was already growing antsy. “I was going to try to spar before Iroh comes back and then I was thinking of showing him the third kata.”

“We did the third a few weeks ago, I’m sorry.” Izumi frowned. Her heart sunk, just slightly in her chest. It was a hard reminder for them both. “But you can show him the fourth.”

“Right. Of course.” Kaito said, shaking his head. His jet black hair had grown long on the mission, down to his shoulders. She knew he’d likely cut it soon, but she hoped he wouldn’t. “That’ll be fun, then.

“Yeah.” Izumi pursed her lips. To his credit, he was a quick to correct. She tried to return to the paper, but the words started to grow fuzzy on the page. For the umpteenth time, Izumi took off her glasses to wipe them on her shirt.

“You didn’t sleep very much last night, did you?” Kaito asked, noticing her frustration. He folded one leg under the other, turning to her side.

“I’m fine.”

Unconvinced, Kaito took the glasses from her hands. She let him. Cradling them gently, he grabbed a cloth from his nightstand to clean them.

“It’s just…” Izumi folded her hands in her lap, struggling to grab onto the words that had been swirling in her head all day. “They’re meeting her. Right now. Literally, right now. My dad and Sokka and Toph and… they’re meeting her.”

She didn’t let herself say Kya or Tenzin or Bumi. She couldn’t take it. It felt like the floor was dropping from under her just thinking about it. All she could picture were their faces at his funeral. She wondered if it felt like that again, or if it felt like something else. She hoped it was something else.

“Do you wish you were there?” Kaito asked, pensively.

Izumi paused. Her story, in a way that was both universal and singular, began with the Avatar. She was the descendant of one and had been a confidant of another. Aang was electric as he was ethereal. It was his kitchen where she learned to cook, his table where she laughed the hardest. And now that was gone.

One piece of her wanted nothing more to rush there, to return to the familiar ice and snow, a place she once pictured herself spending her summers, a place she thought her children would know better than she knew it herself. Another part of her wanted to run the other way. She’d already watched her father mourn his best friend. She’d watched the person she once considered the most important in her life collapse in on himself. She watched the family that had raised her, loved her, protected her, shatter. She couldn’t do that again.

“I don’t know.” She admitted. Kaito wrapped her hand in his and squeezed it. Their bedroom was decorated in a fairly tradition style with Fire Nation colors and art adorning the walls. But it differed in a few pieces, namely the Water Tribe tapestry that hung above her dresser and the Air Temple Island quilt that laid across their bed. There were parts of her that were not from here, parts of her that lived across the world in ways that were hard to understand. A few of those pieces were together right now, and she wasn’t.

“Your dad is able to meet her because of the what you’re doing here.” He insisted, shifting closer to her side of the bed. “You’re doing good work.”

“I know, and thank you, but…” Izumi folded her legs to her chest. “I think it’s just hard. I really wanted to work with him, you know?”

Her voice was quiet as she said the last truth. Because that’s what it was, at the end of the day. There was an unwillingness to let go of that last promise. I am here for you, always.

Loosing Aang was an inescapable weight. It blanketed every piece of her life, coated everything in a dull endlessness that felt impossible to get out of. And it didn’t stop. His passing didn’t just color her present, but it completely changed her future. Her father used to say that as long as he and Aang were in agreement, he knew he was doing something right. And sure, they didn’t always see eye to eye. The Avatar was idyllic, and so was her father. But they worked together for peace.  The light that her father had followed as he followed Agni had been snuffed out. And now someone new had taken its place.

“I was so excited to get to work with Aang.” Izumi continued, letting the wistful excitement overtake her, for only a moment. It had been so painful to picture for so long, but now it offered some form of solace. In another life, this would’ve been her life. “Just to get to brainstorm and solve problems the way he and my dad used to.” she explained, tracing circles in Kaito’s palm as she spoke. Pinpricks started in her eyes but they wouldn’t fall.

“I was so ready for that.” Izumi sighed, fighting the crack in her voice.  “He was going to show me the way.”

“And now you’ll show her the way.” Kaito said, the realization dawning.

She knew it was selfish. She knew that a lot of other people lost more in the fallout. Bumi, Kya and Tenzin had never been the same. They were just on the precipice of becoming who they were supposed to be, and that was stolen from them. But she could tell Kaito. That was something she hadn’t realized she’d appreciate. He wasn’t apart of her complicated web. She could speak more candidly.

“Exactly.” Izumi muttered.

Kaito thought for a moment, carefully folding the newspaper they’d long abandoned and set it on the table before he turned to her. He was a quiet man, a thoughtful man. He measured his sentences with the care and grace of someone who’d been taught only to speak when spoken to. It made her a little sad that he hadn’t found a way to turn it off, even with her, but it helped in these moments. When he spoke, he meant it. Kaito collected both of her hands in his.

“You should go.” He decided.

“What?” Izumi blinked.

“You should go South.” He elaborated, the ever-present wrinkle between his eyebrows relaxing just slightly. “You’re going to lead together, one day. It makes sense that she get to know you now while she’s meeting everyone else.”

“I don’t know.” Izumi sighed, leaning back against the headboard.

She didn’t know what was waiting in the ice. None of them did. But they’d all gone. Kaito said Bumi practically ran off the boat as soon as they docked. He’d been brave. He’d faced it. But he’d always looked before she leaped. He didn’t know how else to be. She thought everything through. She planned. Or at least, she used to.

“I can come with you.” He offered, almost hesitantly. “And we can bring Iroh. We haven’t done anything as a family, as the Fire Nation family in a long time.”

Izumi knew what he meant. Kaito had a knack for politics. He knew what they wanted, what his role was and how to play it. The press around even the implication of the next generation, of the heirs meeting the Avatar would be incredible.

“Iroh is too young for this.” Izumi insisted. That much was clear. The time Iroh and Aang spent on the same plane was brief, but meaningful nonetheless. His favorite bedtime stories were still about Uncle Aang.

“We don’t have to tell him everything.” Kaito said, brushing a hair from her cheek, gently.

Izumi closed her eyes. She tried to hone in on what she feared. She used to be pragmatic. She used to trust her instincts. But in the last few years that had waned. She’d worked so hard after her son was born, after her wholly unearned fall from grace in the eyes of her nation. She’d been rigid, traditional and in control. She’d been perfect. It felt like she’d taken a seven year nap, and now this had woken her up. What was she afraid of? What could be worse than what had already happened?

For not the first time, she wondered what Bumi would say. Izumi always felt a little guilty, picturing the advice he’d give her. They were still friends, sure, but it had been different for long time. They couldn’t completely leave each other’s lives, that was impossible, but they couldn’t get back to what they’d been. That doesn’t mean she didn’t still rely on him, or at least the rose-colored version that lived in her head.

She could almost picture it, his nose wrinkling as he flashed that famous crooked smile. He’d make the face that made him look so much like his dad as he shook that unruly mop of hair swaying back and forth that dashed any resemblance.

He’d ask her what she had to loose.

She’d ramble off a series of what ifs.

He’d brush it all off, not in a callous way, but in one that was optimistic.

Besides that. He’d say. What do you have to loose?

“Okay.” Izumi sighed, opening her eyes.

“Okay?” Kaito’s eyes widened.

“Yeah.” She nodded, warily.  “I’ll talk to my mom and the advisors. We’ll go.”

"Okay." Kaito nodded. "I'll make arrangements for a ship."

"Great."

They were meeting the Avatar.  

Chapter Text

Sokka

“It’s unbelievably cold.” Zuko groaned. He was at the back of the pack, dragging his feet as they wound the last corner to the restaurant.

“It’s not that bad. You’re fine.” Sokka called back, entirely undeterred.

“Yeah, Grandpa,” Toph snarked, tugging his arm closer under hers. “Just relax, you needed to get out of the house.”

“I am already out of the house.” Zuko groaned. “Far out of the house.”

“You can stop complaining” Suki shook her head, pushing open the great wooden door to reveal a bustling restaurant inside.“We’re here.”

They’d left this afternoon for a what was a routine safety check of Katara’s academy. There was still discussion of where and how Korra would train, but if the academy was going to be on the table, which Katara hoped it would be, it needed to be inspected. Sokka and Katara had volunteered, but everyone decided to come. The inspection ran long, as every activity did when the whole gang, Zuko, Suki, and Toph, decided to tag along, meaning the sun had long set when they reemerged. Sokka had suggested they get dinner out, and his sister was quick to agree. There was a great spot just down the road she’d been wanting to show them, anyways.

Though Zuko was reluctant, he was always going to come. It seemed they were back in the era of traveling as a group. Over the years they ebbed and flowed out of a pack mentality, never letting one another get more than an arms-length away. They had been like that for a long time after the war ended, mostly because people kept trying to kill Aang and Zuko, but also because it was hard to be apart. There was no one else who understood what they’d been through, and now it seemed it was like that again.

The waiter gave them a big u-shaped booth in the back, and Katara ordered for the table, getting everyone a bowl of stewed sea prunes and a round of drinks. Sokka bought another quickly after. Conversation flowed as it often did with the five of them, fast and overlapping. They talked about their children, about the politics of bending and if it was getting better or worse, about their homes and when it was time to get a chair that was better for their back, about Ba Sing Se and if Kuei stepping down was a good idea, about Suki’s new skincare routine and the new bill that had come across Zuko’s desk. In any other company, the flip-flopping between personal and political, everyday chatter and international secrets, would be whiplash-inducing. But not here, not with them. This had been their lives for thirty years.

When they were together, stuffed into one booth, shoulder to shoulder, there was a part of Sokka that felt stuck in time. It was like he was back in his twenties, trying hard to keep a world they’d so gingerly put back together from falling apart. And some of that was because none of them were getting enough sleep and the few rounds they’d had were hitting harder than they used to in their youth, but mostly it was what they brought out in each other. By the time dessert rolled around, it felt like they’d rolled back twenty years.

And yet, all the time had passed. And that was impossible to ignore when they were sitting in a cozy booth in the back of a restaurant in his home village. His village had had no restaurant twenty years ago, or building big enough to hold it, for that matter. The art on the walls was made by a local artist, a person whose parents didn’t have memories of the war. The world was different now, better now, but the feeling remained.

“Apparently they’re opening another Lee’s noodle shop on main street,” Toph raised, picking at the last of the berry cobbler. Most of the other patrons had left or were beginning to leave. It was getting late, even for their standards, but they didn’t want to break away just yet.

“Another?” Sokka scoffed, slamming his drink down with just a touch too much force. “The noodles aren’t even that good. We don’t need another.”

“I don’t know the wait time is pretty bad.” Toph scrunched up her face, musing. “And it’s closer to City Hall.”

“Still.” Sokka shrugged.

“You’re acting like you won’t go.” Zuko teased, smiling slightly from across the booth.

“But it’s the principle of the thing.” Sokka put up his hands, in mock-defense. A small thought danced across his brain, one that would never quite go away. “You know who’d agree with me?”

Everyone around the table sobered, for a fraction of a second. And then, they broke into sappy, nostalgic smiles only reserved for one person.

When they were together, stuffed into one booth, shoulder to shoulder, there was a part of Sokka that felt stuck in time. And yet, the time had passed. The world was different now, but the feeling remained.

“Well then we’d be saying you’re both wrong.” Toph smirked, crossing her arms.

Just after he passed, it felt hard to bring him up at all, especially around Katara. It all felt too heavy, too terrible. But not talking about him wound up feeling just as hard. It was a gnawing feeling, like something had been trapped in Sokka’s throat. He felt him in every breeze, every sunrise and sunset and laugh. Ignoring all of that, every little piece that called out, would be shutting out the world. So they all pushed through, not all at once, but bit by bit, until it became normal. He had brought each of them together, after all. As long as they were here, he would be with them too.

“You would.” Sokka laughed, lightly. “And still, he’d agree. He’d hate the new one so, so much.”

“And he’d hate the second lane on main street.” Suki added, squeezing Sokka’s hand under the table. 

There was a chorus of mhms and chuckles that made Sokka realize they hadn’t done this in a long time. For all of the reasons, it had been a long time since they were all together, since they mused on what he would think or do or feel. It felt good. It felt right.

“And he’d hate Tenzin’s wedding singer.” Toph said, boldly, breaking the silence. Sokka nearly spit out his drink.

The topic of Tenzin’s wedding had been… sensitive since he announced his engagement. Though he had outwardly congratulated him, it was kept Sokka up at night. The crux of the issue, was that he was doing it because he was supposed to. And as the son of a father who left him with a mantle and a responsibility too great for his tiny shoulders, the idea that the baby he once rocked to sleep was doing anything because he had to hurt his heart. But as a politician, as a keeper of the peace and advisor to the great rulers of their new world order, he understood it from every single frustrating angle. Tenzin had a cutting pragmatism that Aang had lacked. Sokka used to wish, naively, that the Avatar would be more practical. Now, he saw that it was his optimism that had saved him. And it it was the very thing Sokka wished for that was dooming his son.

“Okay,” Suki slammed her drink against the table. “Who is that?”

In all of the commotion of the last few weeks, the conversation of Tenzin’s wedding had been put on the back burner, but now it seemed to be spilling out.

“Tenzin’s what?” Zuko asked, eyes widened.

“He has a wedding singer?” Katara asked, overlapping the Fire Lord. Sokka turned to his sister, resisting any look of pity or concern- she’d hate that. Tenzin had done a scarily good job keeping his life and his family separate, though the miles and miles of ocean separating him from his mother had helped.

“It’s new.” Sokka started, slowly. Katara’s face was still a wash with muted pain. She fidgeted with the napkin in her lap as she listened, intently. “We saw her at the bar the other night and he pointed her out.”

“I think it’s one of Pema’s friends?” Toph added.

Suki leaned across Sokka to whisper to his sister. “She’s awful.” She muttered.

“She’s not awful, she’s just…” Sokka wracked his brain, trying to find any kinder words, anything to quell his sister’s worries, but came up short. “Okay, yeah, she’s awful.”

“Oh, but Aang would be so fake-positive about it.” Zuko added, from beside Katara, a laugh already escaping his lips.

“Yes!” Toph chuckled beside him. “And it would drive Katara insane that he didn’t say what he was thinking.”

“He wouldn’t drive me insane.” Katara wrinkled her nose.

“Yes,” Toph shook her head, taking a sip of her drink. “He would.”

Not too long ago, no one would have dared to push Katara on anything to do with Aang. In his passing, she became a guardian of his memory. They believed, at first, that this was alright. She was his spouse, his life partner, the mother of their children. Sokka talked himself in circles deciding what he did and didn’t deserve to feel. And the others did the same. But in giving space, they left Katara in her grief. It wasn’t until a particularly late night, just a week before the second anniversary of his passing, that Katara broke down, practically begging them to push back. The moment would live in Sokka’s bones forever.

I can’t hold him alone. She’d said. He would never want this. We all loved him. Just hold him with me. Hold him.

And with trepidation and many mistakes, they started to do it. They held him. They took claim to his memory, to his voice and his thoughts and his wishes. They gave each other permission to keep loving him. To keep being his friends, his family. And Katara was of course his widow, she was still the person who lost their co-parent and who had an empty spot beside her in bed. But Sokka was his friend. And that mattered. He could hold him too.

“You’d be in a whole thing.” Toph smirked.

Sokka relaxed, slightly, when he caught Katara’s lighthearted eye roll. Toph was the best at walking the line with her, always had been.

“You guys would have one of those fights where you both pretended it wasn’t happening the entire time.” Sokka added, sitting up at the revelation. “It would just be these weird tiffs all night.”

“We didn’t do that.” Katara scoffed..

“You did, honey.” Suki shrugged.

“You really did.” Zuko agreed, slouching back in his seat.

“And then he’d talk around it all night.” Sokka said, growing more excited. “He’d ask each of us very diplomatically like,” He clearned his throat and straightened his back, putting on his best Aang voice. “‘What did you think of the ceremony? I really value your input as a friend and leader.’”

“‘I gotta say Toph,” The earth bender added, doing her own performance. “‘I’m feeling really conflicted about this singer. As someone with an acute sense of hearing, how do you think it’s affecting the tone?’”

The table broke out into a fit of laughter. They’d needed this, each of them. In a week that had been so fraught, that had kicked up so much and had been so laden with loss, it was good to get what Aang would say was ‘happy air’ into the lungs. If there was one thing they’d all learned from their friend, it was that grief didn’t always have to look one way. It wasn’t always lonely or sad or bitter. Sometimes it was loud laughter instead of sobs. And it could be both, it would be both, but it was this too.

“Those are both terrible impressions.” Zuko laughed, shaking his head as they started to settle. They’d have to leave soon, most of the patrons already had, but they didn’t want to just yet.

“Because yours is spot on.” Sokka accused, raising an eyebrow.

“Mine is incredible.” Zuko said, crossing his arms.

“No,” Katara pipped up, “Mine is incredible.”

Katara’s was, actually. Though she didn’t have the deepness of his voice, she was really good at getting his tone, his intonation and the little quirks in his language that came from having learned it a century ago. Aang used to do a really good Katara impression too. Sokka couldn’t remember when or how they’d figured that out, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t do hers anymore.

“Yours is better than theirs, that’s for sure.” Suki mused. “But we all know he’d let her sing anyways.”

There was a chorus of mhms and chuckles that settled the table.

The world didn’t remember Aang as a person. His image was more god than man. And sometimes, with all of the fanfare and legacy and literal pedestal they put him on, it was hard to remember this part too. That he had a dislike for chains and he hated cars and was impatient. He had pet peeves and petty grudges and made snide remarks. He had baseless opinions and lost bets and was had a terrible poker face. He couldn’t sell anything, couldn’t hustle, had minimal street smarts despite spending years on the road. He wasn’t perfect, not by any means. And that was what they had to remember. They had to hold the man.

“Maybe Katara can put a stop to it.” Toph thought aloud. “None of us want to be honest.”

“Isn’t that your whole thing?” Katara chided, raising an eyebrow.

“Not with Tenzin about his wedding.” Toph argued.

Her point was also Sokka’s and Suki’s and Zuko’s. Tenzin was one of their babies, his fraught relationship with Lin didn’t change that. Nothing could. And they’d all been there, standing at his side as he became the last air bender. It was hard to tell someone no to anything after that. Thankfully, until now, Tenzin had asked for very little. Now, all he wanted was their support. There wasn’t a world where they told that kid, their kid, that he shouldn’t do what he thought he was supposed to.

“If he listened to me he wouldn’t be getting married.” Katara said, simply. Suki squeezed Sokka’s hand harder under the table. Zuko did a terrible job masking a face of alarm, which Sokka understood. “I can’t weigh, in I haven’t met her.”

“Still?” Toph asked.

“Still.” Katara sighed. To her credit, she appeared on the outside to have accepted her fate, but Sokka knew his sister better than that. Everyone around the table did. This was the woman who once convinced the leader of the last standing pro-Ozai militia to give up the location of his hideout in fifteen minutes. She could get anything out of anyone, and she didn’t settle for less. This was eating her alive.

“Pema’s sweet.” Suki said, attempting to soothe her frustrations. “She’s a very sweet girl.”

“She’s better than Kaito.” Zuko muttered, spitefully. Sokka raised an eyebrow, privately regretting ordering that last round. The Fire Lord was a petty drunk.

“Zuko, be nice.” Sokka chastised.

“I am nice.” Zuko huffed, sitting up in his seat. “I am very nice to the bland man who lives in my house.”

“It’s been seven years.” Katara argued. She was shaking her head, but Sokka could tell she was fighting a smile. She wasn’t normally tickled by his antics, but she always appreciated his comments against Izumi’s husband-to-be.

“And I’ve felt every single one.” Zuko sighed, resting his head against a tired hand.

“Spirits, I can’t believe he’s this much of a lightweight.” Toph tsked. “You’ve grown soft in your old age.”

“I’m four years older than you.” He scoffed in return, but it was no use.

“It’s getting late,” Katara clicked her tongue. “We should probably be getting back anyways. Come on, Grandpa.”

Slowly, Katara and Zuko shuffled out of the booth. Suki and Toph slipped back in, but Sokka lingered.

“You want help getting him back?” Sokka asked. His sister glanced at him, a small irritation sweeping her face, but quickly dissipating. Their dynamic had shifted in the last few years. She wouldn’t say yes. He knew that. And still, he’d ask. 

“Nope.” She said, predictably. “We’re good.”

Katara fastened the last button of her coat and beckoned Zuko to do the same. After a few goodbyes and confirmations of tomorrow’s activities, they were off. Toph and Suki agreed to one more round for last call, and Sokka settled back in beside them. It was late, the moon shone high in the sky outside. It was always brighter in the South, but it seemed particularly strong this week.

“We need to stop being this judgemental when they get married.” Suki muttered, after a while.

“She’s a very nice girl.” Sokka sighed, saying what was true. The air felt stiff, almost heavy with the weight of each word. “She’s really great.”

“I don’t think they’d be together if he was here.” Toph said, frankly.

Sokka could practically feel the weight in the air, all that had been looming, fall onto his shoulders. It was a suffocating thought, one he wouldn’t contest.

“No, they wouldn’t be.” Sokka agreed. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “But he’s not. And Tez seems… he seems grounded with her.” Suki rubbed his hand under the table. “And she seems happy. That’s all we can ask.”

“Spirits, I miss him.” Suki sighed, leaning on his side.

Sokka nodded. It was all he could muster, really. Missing him felt like drowning. It felt like someone had taken something. Like they’d burned down his house. It felt like so many awful things, and yet it felt like none of them. It was something entirely new, something he was entirely unprepared for. He leaned his head back against the booth, feeling the cool wood against his the back of his shaved head. Briefly, he lingered on the realization that Aang would’ve felt this the same way, his bald head brushing against the grooves on the back of his chair in the same fashion.

The thought wasn’t surprising, though. He was Sokka’s brother. He saw him everywhere.

“Yeah.” Toph mumbled. Her hands rested on her ring, a piece of the space rock that she wore on her thumb, which she’d had Aang engrave before he passed. Sokka still didn’t know what he’d carved on the inside of the piece, but he knew she didn’t take it off. “He’d like her. So we should like her” She decided.

“I can get behind that.” Suki agreed. It was getting late. They’d have to leave soon, though they’d be okay with it. Their booth was beginning to feel all too spacious.

“Me too.” Sokka sighed.

He knew in his bones, just as they did, that he would. Aang would have loved her. So they would love her. 

Kya

Kya slept in the same guest room at her mother’s house every visit. Besides Katara’s room, it was the largest bedroom in the house. If they were younger, her brothers would have fought her tooth and nail for it. Her father would have told them to switch each night of the stay. Her mother would have encouraged them to have an open debate. But there had never been any reason to fight over this room, they had never stayed at this house all together. They had been together in the years since their mother moved, sure, but normally they were scattered. Tenzin used to stay in a hotel with Lin, make a vacation out of a family holiday, Bumi normally crashed on the couch, giving the last bed to Su or Izumi or whoever else came through the door.

Kya didn’t even know which room her brothers slept in when they visited their mother on their own. It was probably this one. They were probably also awoken by the sun through the far-too-thin window shades, they probably also had to get a second blanket from downstairs in the middle of the night. They were probably equally unsettled by all of the pieces of the guest room that reminded you it was just that- a guest room. No matter how many seats she had brought to the table, their mother’s house was not there own. And Kya new, deep down, that this was a part of getting older. That she would have felt this way eventually regardless. But it was hard to separate from the thing that pushed her mother out of Republic City.

If she didn’t dwell on it and all of its inconsistencies, the guest room was nice. The bed was big, the windows too. Her mother had put a lot of her father’s books in here, so it was far more orange than other parts of the house. Kya missed that the most in her travels. There was not enough orange in the world. The walls were lined with tapestries, art work that her grandmother, the first Kya, had made when she was around her age. There was a picture across from the bed of her family taken during Tenzin’s first Winter Solstice. Kya doesn’t remember the trip, but it looks nice. They look happy. It’s always photos like this that make Kya’s stomach flip, though. It’s hard to grasp the fact that by the time they were just a year older than Kya when it was taken. They had all of the kids they would have. They were in what would become the last stage of their collective lives. Her life felt like it had just gotten its footing, like it was just spreading its wings.

Kya had taken to picking a book from her father’s collection to read before bed. She hadn’t done that before, but it felt fitting now. The one she had selected was a collection of teachings. It was meant for monk or nun around a decade into their mastery. Air Nomads were always supposed to keep learning, always strive to be more in tune with the rest of the world. Kya tried to do that too, as best she could. The nun who’d written this particular set of teachings had a very clear vision on what was good practice and what was not. Kya appreciated the personality. She’d lived around the same time as her dad had. Kya wondered, briefly, if they’d ever crossed paths. Probably not.

Just as she was beginning to wrap up her chapter for the night, Kya heard a knock at the door. After a curious come in, Lin stepped sheepishly inside. Her pack was slung over her shoulder, almost comically small for how much she must’ve had to put in for this winter trip. Kya raised an eyebrow.

“Hi.” Lin said, after a pause. She seemed nervous, which was interesting more than anything else. A Beifong didn’t startle easily.

“Hey.” Kya sat up in bed, folding one leg under her arm.

“So…” Lin scratched the back of her head, avoiding eye contact. “Your mom is forcing Tenzin to sleep here tonight.”

“Cool.” Kya snorted. That was likely not a pretty conversation. Though most of the world would say otherwise, of all of their children, Tenzin was the most like his mother- stubborn to a fault.

“He was being weird the room and I didn’t want to make him sleep on the couch,” Lin sighed, slumping her shoulders. “So I told him you said I could crash in here.”

“Oh,” Kya nodded, realizing the ask.“Yeah, sure.” She moved over, making space on the bed.

“I can go to Hakoda’s.” Lin offered. She hadn’t moved from the doorway, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

There was a lot that changed after Aang’s death. There was the obvious, but then there were the less immediate things, the pieces Kya lost in the fallout. One of them, was Lin. No one said it, no one would, but everyone knew why Lin and Tenzin broke up. Tenzin needed to check boxes. He was the Last Air Bender, a heavy title with heavier expectations. Kya didn’t know all it, she didn’t know what he said or how it happened, but she knew in her bones that he did it because he loved her. It was the same reason he never offered his siblings the council seat. They could get out of it. They could be rid of this life in the way he could not. He thought that freeing them from his fate was the way he could save them from his pain. It wasn’t true, of course, but it was love all the same.

Even if her little brother hadn’t completely complicated their relationship with Lin Beifong, Kya wouldn’t have seen her much. Though Sokka had taken up her mother’s mantle and had a family meal every week, meals where Tenzin and Lin skillfully alternated dates, Kya was always traveling. She made a point of it, made a life of it. She was always somewhere else. Always trying to be something else. She didn’t go home easily. The meals she longed for, the table she wanted to gather around, was long gone.

But in her running, in her training and seeking and searching for more, Kya had left her behind. The girl who used to walk home from school with her, who was at every birthday and new years and bending ceremony. She taught her how to braid her hair and how to be an older sister and used to let her borrow skirts for parties. There was a time when Lin wouldn’t have thought twice about sharing her bed, and now she idled in the doorway.

Kya frowned.

“No, don’t be silly Linny,” Kya shook her head as she opened the covers. Reluctantly, Lin clambered inside and pulled them back over the both of them.

Kya studied the girl. It had been some time since they last spoke. She looked so grown up now, almost the spitting image of her mother. There were small pieces of her father too, the mystery man that was nowhere in Kya’s young memory, but who Bumi, when asked, would say that she laughed like him. Lin was strong, she always had been, but she mostly muscle, with broad shoulders that made it clear she was not to be messed with. Still, there was a gentleness in her eyes, one Kya had missed.

“Can I ask a question?” Kya asked, after a while. They’d settled into a mildly awkward silence, neither ready to go to bed, neither sure what to say. She understood, of course. They’d just spent the last hour discussing their meeting with Korra and what to do next with little consensus. Suffice to say, they were all a little burned out.

“Sure.”

“My brother?” Kya snorted. Finally, she could bring up what she’d wanted to ask since they touched down. “Of all the modes of transportation, you picked his?”

“It was the fastest way to get here.” Lin huffed. She turned away, her face already a beet red.

“Sure, Bug,” she smirked, using an old nickname in a sing-song voice.

“He’s getting married, Kya.” Lin rolled her eyes, already 

“I know. You can miss people in a lot of ways.” Kya countered, snuggling into the bed with a smug look on her face. “I, for one, am rooting for your platonic rekindling”

“No one says that.” Lin sighed, shoving the older girl back to her side of the bed. When Kya laughed in return, Lin smiled slyly. In seconds, they had slipped back into the rhythm they’d known all their lives. It was so easy for them, even after all this time. It made the chasm that had formed between her and her younger brother feel all the more impassable.

“So… how’s June?” Lin asked. She’d found the book Kya was reading and was flipping through it, gently. She was never much of a reader, but when it came to air bending she had always made an exception.   

“June’s good.” Kya sighed, picking at the frayed edge of her blanket. “We’ve been writing back and forth since I got here. I think she’s worried about me.”

“Whatever could she be worried about?” Lin said, sarcastically, without looking up from her page. “We’re an incredibly mellow, non-combative group of people.” Kya chuckled.

“I think she wants me to ask her to come up.”

“You should.” Lin nodded. She’d opened the book to an illustration. There were four masters, two nuns and two monks, all doing the same motion together. A perfect blend of oranges and yellows dancing across the page. She traced each one with a tender hand. “She’s been before right?”

“She has.” Kya sighed heavily. “But that was different. It was just my mom.”

“She already knows most of us.” Lin continued. “You two have been together off and on for like four years.”

“I know.” Kya drew her legs up to her chest.  “I just… she’s dating with the version of me who lives on the road.” She explained, twisting a strand of her hair. “She loves the me who’s free spirited and nice and likes to go dancing.”

“You’re not that version right now?” Lin raised an eyebrow. Kya made a face.

“Does it look like I’m going to go dancing?”

Lin closed the book and put it gently to the side. Kya could practically hear the gears turning in her head as she decided what to say. She turned to her, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“She was with you when your dad passed.” Lin said, softly. “I was there, I saw how you two were. She knows that this is… complicated.”

“That was different. Loosing your dad is normal-person-complicated.” Kya countered, leaning back against the headboard. “We’re meeting the new Avatar, it’s not fair to put all of that on her.”

“I still think it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“Maybe.” Kya shook her head, unconvinced. “You’ve never had to think about this. You didn’t have to introduce anyone to Avatar-level crazy, you and Tenzin were both born into it.”

“You don’t know what I have and haven’t had to think about.” Lin pouted.

“What does that mean?” Kya raised an eyebrow. This, was interesting. Normal-person interesting.

“It just means you don’t know what I’m up to.” She said, vaguely.

“Lin.” Kya’s eyes widened.

Lin blanched, realizing what she’d said, what she’d admitted. But it was too late.

“No-”

“Lin!” Kya gushed, sitting up.

“No- no!” Lin shook her head. “I didn’t say anything!”

“Yes you did!” Kya squealed. “You’re dating someone!”

“Shut up!” Lin shouted, shoving the older girl away.

“Tell me!” Kya pleaded.

“No!”

“You have to tell me.”

“Are you five?” Lin scoffed.

“Please!”

Before Lin could defend herself again, there was a knock at the door followed by Bumi poking his head in.

“Do you guys want go out with me and Tez?” He asked.

“Yes!” Lin said, trying to leap out of bed, but Kya was too fast, yanking her back.

“No!” Kya shouted. “No she doesn’t we’re staying here. Bye!”

“Okay!” Bumi shouted back, slightly bewildered. “Agni, have mercy.” He muttered, shutting the door.

Kya looked at Lin with a satisfied smirk. The younger woman sighed, conceding defeat.

“It’s new. It’s really new, okay?” Lin started, her eyebrows pinching together. She looked nervous, a feeling that looked wrong on her frame, like it didn’t quite fit.

“Okay.” Kya started, slowly. She hadn’t anticipated this. Stubbornness, sure, resistance, always, but not anxiety. Lin had always been fairly… solid with this kind of stuff, even after she and Tenzin broke up. Something was different. Kya studied her face, looking for traces of understanding in her averted eyes.

It hit her all at once.

Oh.

“Linny.” Kya smiled, gathering her hands and holding them tight.

All of a sudden, time had stopped. And Lin was six years old crawling into her bed after a nightmare. She was thirteen and Kya was doing her makeup for the first time. She was seventeen and braiding her hair for her father’s funeral in the style of his ancestors.

“I loved Tenzin too, okay?” She stammered, fidgeting under her gaze.

“I know.” Kya said, quickly.

She bit her tongue, willing herself to be patient. Lin had been there when she came out, in fact she was beside her at the dinner table. She’d watched Kya sit up in her chair, call on all of their attention and muster every ounce of courage she had stored in her wonky teenage body. She’d watched it go well. Kya had hoped, of course, that any of the kids she grew up with would one day join her, but she honestly didn’t expect it. But now, here they were. Here she was, strong enough to walk on her own. There was a pang in Kya’s chest, an echo of guilt for leaving Lin to figure it out by herself, but it was far overshadowed by her pride.

“I really, really did.” Lin sighed, growing softer. “And this is like that… but it’s also different. Good different.”

“That makes sense.” Kya said, honestly. Her hands were still cradling hers, holding tight as she spoke. The bed felt like an island, like a cocoon of their own creation. It was just the two of them.

“And it’s not a big deal, but I just don’t want to tell everyone right now.” Lin added, drawing a leg up to her chest. “There’s enough going on.”

“I won’t tell them if you don’t want me to.” Kya nodded. She studied the girl once more, taking in that precious face that used to follow after them across the island. She’d always been so sure of herself, even then. “But… can I say something?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you, Linny. A whole lot.” Kya pulled the girl into a tight embrace, holding her with the weight of every hug she’d lost on the road. Lin squeezed back. “And I missed you.” She added, hoping Lin’s shoulder muffled the catch in her throat.

“Yeah,” Lin mumbled, her voice growing softer as they pulled apart.

“I guess I missed you too.”

Chapter Text

Bumi

It had been a long day. It had been a long few months, really, but Bumi was really focused on the last day. The debrief after meeting Korra was… fine. There wasn’t much to discuss right now other than that she was, in fact, the Avatar and that at some point, the world would want them to say something. But they weren’t going to say anything tomorrow, so they were all let off the hook for the afternoon. Bumi spent a few hours futzing about the house, trying to keep himself busy by tinkering with the leaky faucet in the bathroom and doing the dishes he’d forgotten that morning, but after a while the cabin fever set in. By nightfall, Bumi was downright antsy. He had to get out of the house, and he knew just the person to break out with.

Lin’s surprise appearance was feeling more and more spirit-sent with every passing moment. She was strong and smart in ways Bumi never would be, and even more than that, she was fun. If he could get her on board to come out, Kya would be quick to follow. It would be a classic hang out, the old gang back together. Old times.

“Hey-” Bumi started, opening a guest room door with a quick knock. He’d been expecting to see the earth bender, but instead was met with a familiar yellow tunic and blue arrow. “Oh.” He said, before stopping himself.

“Hi.” Tenzin started, already irritated. He seemed to be in the middle of some project, pieces of paper splayed out across his bed in an organized yet haphazard manner. Bumi cringed. His brother gestured to the empty room, his room. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“Yeah, actually.” Bumi said, honestly. “I was looking for Lin.”

“She’s in Kya’s room.” Tenzin answered, shortly.

“Oh nice.” Bumi nodded, trying and failing to think of something else to say. There really wasn’t anything else.

He wasn’t not close with his little brother, they just had little in common anymore. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. He and Kya left, Tenzin stayed. That was the order of things now. There had been a time, a lifetime ago, when he and Tenzin were close. They talked about all sorts of things, the harder stuff and the fun stuff. He was even comfortable enough to ask for advice with Lin. Back then, the physical distance between them didn’t seem to change how they operated. But then everything changed. And Tenzin had to be more. And Bumi kept leaving.

“Well, bye” Bumi cleared his throat, and started to close the door. He got his answer, he didn’t want to take up any more of his time.

“Wait.” His brother called. Bumi paused, raising an eyebrow. Tenzin sat up on the bed, his face unreadable. “What were you going to ask her?”

“Oh, no it’s fine.” Bumi shook his head.

“You don’t think I know the answer?” Tenzin dared.

“Well, I don’t think you’ll say yes.” He countered.

“Just ask me.” Tenzin stated. He was almost calculated now, an unfamiliar stubbornness rearing its head.

Sometimes, Bumi forgot his brother was a politician. That was his job, and had been for four years. He convinced people to see his point of view, to give them what he wanted. He made speeches and went to fancy parties and jumped through every hoop required of a nation of one.

“Fine.” Bumi huffed. “Do you want to go down to the bar with me?” He spelled out.

“No.” Tenzin said quickly, returning to his work.

“Yeah, okay, there we go.” Bumi said, matter-o-factly. He wasn’t even disappointed. It was just a fact of life. He started to close the door. “Bye now.”

“Well- wait.” Tenzin called. In two seconds, he was up and at the door. Behind him, the papers that had fluttered up were settling in his wake. He took a breath. “I- I can go.”

Well, that was new.

“Are you sure?” Bumi asked, warily. This still felt like a dream, or a poorly attempted prank.

“Yeah.” Tenzin said, feigning confidence. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

“Okay.” Bumi shrugged. He suddenly felt entirely out of his depth.

While Tenzin changed, even after he insisted what he was wearing was fine, Bumi decided to check and ask if the girls wanted to come with them. He came to their room under the guise of inclusion, but after their bizarre declining of his invitation, Bumi realized he’d really, really hoped they’d say yes. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend one-on-one time with his brother, it was that it never worked. Neither felt particularly fulfilled afterwards, not more seen or heard or validated in anything. Bumi often left feeling guilty. Tenzin was a reminder of what they’d lost, and he knew it.

By the time Bumi returned, Tenzin was waiting by the door, expectantly. He’d put on one of Sokka’s old sweaters, a new pair of navy pants and a beanie covering his arrow. He looked good, he looked like a man. He’d put thought into the outfit, into his clothes and his shoes. Bumi had a flash, a memory, of the amount of time it used to take Tenzin to do his hair in the morning. He was always so particular. 

Also, he was, it seemed, nervous, really nervous. Tenzin was wringing his hands together, something they’d all gotten from their father, and trying really hard not to look like he’d been anxiously awaiting his arrival, as though there was a world in which Bumi left without him. In that instant, a switch flipped. Tenzin was his little brother. His little, anxious, stunted brother who held the world on his shoulders because it was what was left to him. And he was waiting by the door.

“So the girls said no.” Bumi said, putting on his shoes. “It’s just us.”

“Great.” Tenzin said, quickly.

Bumi wondered, as they stepped into the brisk cold air, that Tenzin had also hoped that the girls would come. Probably yes. Lin had come with him, of course. She was still the glue of their little operation, even after all that had happened.

The walk over was… fine. They talked a bit about the cold, and how neither of them were used to it anymore. They talked about their mom’s new house, and how the decor was so different. By the time they got to the bar, Bumi was ready to be inside, opening the big wooden door with an eager hand.

The Iceberg was the only bar in the village. It was an energetic place, often hosting late music which went late into the night. Bumi used to sneak in on vacations with some of the local kids, convincing whoever’s older sibling or cousin was behind the bar to give them a round of drinks. It rarely worked, but when it did, they felt like kinds. The alcohol was only part of why Bumi went, though. It was one of the first social places that sprang up after the war. It was a signal that their community was growing, building, and here to stay. They wanted somewhere to celebrate, to blow off steam and laugh loudly outside of their own home. It was hope.

Bumi and Tenzin found a table in the back, away from the bar but close enough to the commotion so that they could still hear the music. They barely had time to decide who was going to the bar before they were spotted.

“Look who it is!” Koko, a big, burly man and the owner of the bar, came over almost immediately and slapped Bumi on the back.

“Koko, hey, how’s it going?” Bumi beamed, shaking his hand with the traditional Water Tribe greeting. Tenzin reached over, confidently, and did the same.

“Going well, Boom.” Koko smiled. “Hey, Tez, it’s been a long time.”

“It has.” Tenzin nodded. “Good to see you.”

A lifetime ago, during the war, Sokka had taught him as apart of his child-army. The last line of defense. Like all of those boys and their families, Bumi had grown up knowing them like cousins. Like most people from their original village, they treated their parents like they were spirit-sent. Being a son of Aang had its pressures, but being a son of Katara was mostly perks.

“What can I get you guys tonight?” Koko asked, grabbing a pad of paper from his pocket.

“I’ll have whatever local brew’s on tap.” Bumi said. “What is it?”

“Winter Pines Ale.” Koko recited, turning to his brother. “Tez?”

“The same.”

“Perfect.” Koko clapped his hands together. Just before leaving, he leaned in, speaking just above the music. “I heard about everything, if you guys need any help know that we’re all here. She’s a great kid, we’ll take care of her.” He winked.

“We know.” Bumi said, forcing the strain out of his voice as he squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks, Koko.”

“Of course.”

Koko came back quickly with the drinks and another knowing look, something prideful and something deeper. He was a child of war, a teenager of rebuilding and an adult of whatever they were doing now. He knew as joyous this was, it was also terrifying. The last time a little girl from their village did something no one thought she could, Bumi’s grandmother died. Koko had been there. His dad died a few years after that, at sea. He knew it was both.

Bumi took his first sip, letting the foamy bitterness envelop his senses. His brother was doing the same, looking out across the crowd with an abject wistfulness. Bumi wondered, briefly, how often he got to get out like this. He wouldn’t ask, not now- Tenzin would only get defensive. But it was something to think about.

“So…” Bumi cleared his throat, realizing that neither of them had said a thing since Koko left. “You’re getting married.

“Yep.” Tenzin nodded.

Cool. This was about as fun as he’d pictured so far. It wasn’t that his brother wasn’t fun, it was more that he didn’t let himself just be. He’d had a taste of life, a small sliver of adulthood before the world asked him to be more. It hadn’t been enough. And now he was this.

Bumi set his drink down, leaning on his arms across the table. Tenzin was straight as a board, taking almost mechanical sips as he perched on his stool.

“Are you scared?” Bumi asked, saying the first thing that came out of his mouth- a blessing and a gift.

“What?” Tenzin blinked, already flustered.

“I don’t know.” Bumi shrugged. “Just curious.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Tenzin said, clicking his tongue. For a moment, it seemed that this was all he’d say. And Bumi was okay with that, with the silted silence. The band wasn’t half bad tonight. If his brother needed to sit in silence, bopping slightly to one side and then the other, that would be okay.

“Were you scared?” Tenzin asked, suddenly. Bumi’s eyes widened, unsure. “When you and Izumi…”

“Oh.” Bumi sighed.

When they were eighteen, he and Izumi had conducted a bonding ceremony. It wasn’t marriage, per say, but it wasn’t not. Though the Air Nomads didn’t get married, this ceremony was a symbol of their devotion, a promise to be together across lifetimes. They were technically still bonded, committed to one another in the eyes of the Spirit World. He wasn’t sure how to undo it, there probably wasn’t a way.

“No, I guess I wasn’t.” Bumi smiled, fondly. He hadn’t thought about that misty summer morning in a while. It was the first time he’d seen her in his culture’s colors. She looked so beautiful in orange. He cleared his throat, pushing away the memory. “Are you guys doing the commitment ceremony?”

“We’re going to try.” Tenzin scratched his head under his hat, absentmindedly. “We’re incorporating like… three cultures into one ceremony.” He explained, slumping slightly in his stool. “I said we should do them separately but the council thinks a public display is better.”

“Why do they get a say?” Bumi asked, a bitterness coating his words. The idea of the council meddling in his family’s life was not new, and very unwelcome.

“It’ll help in terms of having more weight in decisions both domestic and abroad.” Tenzin explained, though his tone was soft. He fidgeted with his glass. “There’s only one of me, so, everything I do has to count.”

“I guess.” Bumi muttered, unconvinced.

“You know the council arranged mom and dad’s marriage too.” Tenzin offered. It was a weak defense, and they both knew it.

“I know.” Bumi said, studying his brother’s face.

He did. He’d been born about a year later. He’d grown up alongside their parents, more than his siblings. He watched them stumble through their twenties as they raised children and put a world back together at the same time. He knew that he was the failed part of the council's project, too. He didn't care for it. 

“But you don’t want to be like them.” Bumi asked, cautiously. “Do you?”

“No.” Tenzin said, quietly. His face was lined with a frustrating resignation. “But I have to make… compromises.”

“Okay,” Bumi sighed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Koko nod, and he signaled for another round. They’d be here a while. “Well, as long as it’s a compromise and not getting steamrolled.”

“It’s not.” Tenzin affirmed, just a little too quickly. “Pema isn’t really someone to mess with.”

“I know she isn’t.” Bumi smiled, softly. Pema was a force. She moved to Republic City at eighteen years old with nothing but one of their father’s books. She came to the island because she believed in peace and humility and wouldn’t take no for an answer. She became a lead Actolyte by the end of her first year. She wasn’t someone you could push around. “Tez, I’m talking about you.”

“Well I’m not either.” Tenzin insisted. For tonight, Bumi would believe him.

Koko set down the drinks, which Tenzin took graciously. They were Bumi’s silent display of affection. His signaling that he wanted to stay. Tenzin’s acceptance was the same. They were having a nice time.

“So…” Bumi raise his glass. “To compromises?”

“Yeah,” Tenzin laughed, lightly. “To compromises.”

Before Bumi could ask another question, make another attempt to delve into his brother’s anxious inner life, the band started to strum a few chords of a song that seemed to get people’s attention - including, to his surprise, his brother.

“Oh, I love this song.” Tenzin quirked up, a small smile spreading across his face.

“Really?” Bumi blinked.

“I want to get closer.” Tenzin said, his eyes fixed on the band as he stepped away from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

With that, he was off. Bumi had been so stymied that all he could muster was a half surprised I’ll hold down the fort. Tenzin seemed undeterred by his shock, and slinked through the crowd to be closer to the band. They were covering what Bumi started to realize was a very popular song, as nearly every patron was singing the chorus. Bumi had been so wrapped up in Tenzin’s experience, he’d forgotten how long it had been since he went out like this. He’d been underground and off the grid for months, and seemed to miss this new hit. His brother hadn’t though. He was up with the rest of the young twenty-somethings, bopping his head to the beat and balancing his beer as he swayed.

It struck Bumi that he hadn’t seen Tenzin like this, maybe ever. He’d jumped from being his weird little brother to the haunted heir of their father’s culture. In Bumi’s mind, his brother occupied that depressing little box, one almost too sad to sit in with him. He had become a ghost, someone tied down, like he was stuck to Air Temple Island like there was a chain around his ankle. But seeing him now, seeing him light up by something as normal as a song, watching him sing along with his peers, he realized that was not the case. Bumi used to think that leaving, that his choice to go, was what growing up was. What moving on was. But now, it seemed, he had put the wrong brother in the box of grief and ghosts.

As the song wrapped up, Tenzin slinked back to the table, weaving between patrons with a spirit-sent ease. He didn’t air bend often outside of training, but Bumi could always tell when he used it in the smaller ways. He could with their dad too. It changed almost every single part of how they moved through the world. He found it fascinating.

“They’re pretty good for a cover band.” Tenzin said, as he returned to his seat, a newfound energy coating his frame. “Pema’s going to freak out. She’s been a fan of the Phoenix Feathers for years and just this summer they’re finally getting popular.”

“Oh wow. I’ve never heard of them.” Bumi said, still taking in this new side of his brother.

“They’re great.” Tenzin nodded, almost animated. “I can send you a few tapes to take back on the boat.”

“I’d like that.” Bumi nodded, earnestly. He’d memorize every song.

Before they could keep talking, a familiar voice called his name from the bar. Bumi tried his best not to look unsettled, as did Tenzin.

It was Tonraq. Waving at them from a group of guys that had just come in.

Bumi was prepared to wave, and leave it at that, but it seemed the father of the Avatar was eager to come over. He said a few words to the men he was with, a group Bumi vaguely recognized, before hustling over.

“Hey Tonraq.” Bumi smiled, politely. “Nice to see you.”

“Hey guys.” The man gave them both the traditional handshake, and a pat on the shoulder. “How’s your evening going?”

“Good.” Tenzin nodded, almost mechanically. A tightness had returned to his shoulders, one Bumi was not keen to see. “Great.”

“Good.” Bumi echoed. “Well we won’t keep you-”

“Actually, can I sit?” Tonraq said, interrupting his kind way of saying please leave. Bumi made a face at Tenzin, who shrugged.

“Sure.” Bumi said, somewhat defeated. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see him, more that until now, Tonraq and Senna occupied a different, very specific, very complicated box in his mind that he didn’t want to see in any other context. That, and he was getting to know Band Enthusiast Tenzin.

Tonraq grinned, pulling up a chair from another table and seating himself between the two brothers. He was a big man, bigger than Bumi, but not as tall. Though, most people standing next to Tenzin seemed shorter.

“Are those are your friends?” Bumi asked, trying to fill a now entirely awkward silence. Tonraq still hadn’t said why he came over, and he was increasingly wearing on Bumi’s patience. This was supposed to be their one night to forget about, well, Tonraq. And here he was.

“Yes.” Tonraq said, quickly. He was rocking his glass back and forth in his hands. “Yeah. Those are some of the guys I trained with.”

“Oh nice.” Bumi smiled, glancing back at the group. Now it clicked together. He’d met many of them before at his mother’s academy. “You trained here?”

“I trained first in the North,” Tonraq cleared his throat. Everyone in the South knew his story, and it wasn’t one Bumi was all that interested in. It wasn’t his business. “But when I moved I entered the program under Sella.”

“She’s incredible.” Bumi nodded. He glanced at his brother, who had gone quiet since Tonraq’s arrival. He seemed more disinterested than he did particularly wounded or traumatized, which was a step up from their last encounter.

“She is.” Tonraq smiled, entirely oblivious to the mental gymnastics his counterparts were performing. “Bumi, you’re in the UF right?”

“I am.” Bumi said, somewhat surprised by the question. “This is my eighth year.”

“Wow, eight already.” Tonraq exclaimed, clapping him on the back. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-six.” Bumi shrugged. He spent so much of his time surrounded by soldiers, that a number like eight wasn’t that surprising. “But I joined when I turned eighteen so the milestones kind of sneak up on you.”

“Liking life at sea?”

“It’s great.” Bumi nodded, taking another big sip of his drink. “I’m on leave right now. Good timing, I guess.”

“How was your deployment?” He asked. Tonraq had leaned in, listening intently, which only made Bumi more unsure of why he came over.

“It was good.” He said, fidgeting with his hands. Bumi didn’t normally spend this much time talking about himself, and he didn’t love it. “I mean, intense but you know, part of the job and all that.” He said, hoping to stave off any more praise or interest.

“He actually just returned from a five month operation.” Tenzin pipped up. Bumi blinked. “Stopped a high level plot before it started.”

“Impressive.” Tonraq said, eye brows raised.

“It is.” Tenzin affirmed.

Bumi tried to catch his brother’s eye, to try and understand why he’d say any of that, but Tenzin was fixed on their new guest. Bumi felt the heat rise in his face. He didn’t even realize his brother had been tracking anything to do with him, much less what mission he’d been on.

“You know I thought about it,” Tonraq said, leaning back in his stool. “Before meeting Senna, I mean. But decided I needed to stay here.”

“Well that’s as important, I think.” Bumi said, earnestly. He made eye contact with his brother.  Tenzin made a predictably muted face. “The staying and everything. It’s just as important.”

“Yeah.” Tonraq said, wistfully.

For a moment, a brief glimmer, Bumi thought that this would be the end of it. That Tonraq was just being polite, and now he was going to leave them alone and let them forget that he existed. But that would have been too lucky for him.

“I’ve been wanting to touch base with you all, just spend more time together and do more things like this.” Tonraq explained, leaning both arms against the table. “I think it’ll be good for everything.”

“For sure.” Bumi said, waving Koko over for another round. He didn’t know how to explain that likely, after this weekend, he would not see him or Kya for months, if not years. They were not bound to him by duty, nor did they want to be. Kya had come here for their mother. Bumi was here for all three of them. Tonraq and his family was not apart of their equation.

“We’ve been working with your mom and your uncle which is amazing, they’re incredible,” Tonraq continued, waving his hands. He was a hand talker. “But we’re all pretty close in age too and so I thought…” He ran a hand through his hair, his beads clacking as they shook. “I don’t know. I thought this could be good too.”

“No yeah, we get it.” Bumi said, honestly. “This is super new and super confusing.”

“I actually had some questions, if that’s okay?” Tonraq asked, hesitantly. Bumi’s heart skipped a beat as Tonraq turned away from him, and to his brother. “For you, Tenzin.” He added, as though he needed to.

“Oh.” Tenzin sat up, his face unreadable. “Yeah.”

“Actually,” Bumi cut in, metaphorically gearing up, “we’re trying to relax and I’m sure my mom would be able to answer better than us-”

“No, it’s fine.” Tenzin interrupted. Bumi gave him a concerned look, which he ignored. Instead, he turned back to the man, shoulders squared. “Go for it.”

Tonraq looked between them, both mildly reluctant and defeated, before deciding to proceed. Bumi was ticked off, mostly. Tenzin was having a good time, and now the universe decided he couldn’t. Again. But he tried to see things from his brother’s point of view. His voice was still ringing in his head from earlier.

There’s only one of me, so, everything I do has to count.

“So,” Tonraq cleared his throat. The edges of his glass where his hands had been had formed spots of ice. “When does she… what’s the order?” He asked, brushing back his hair. Any air of calm or ease he’d possessed before was gone.  He was stressed, tired, and scared for his family. That, Bumi could understand. “I know for- I know before it was air, water, earth, fire.”

“That was for Aang.” Tenzin started, gently, saying what Tonraq couldn’t. “It changes every time depending on where they’re born. For her it’ll be water, earth, fire, air. We’ll train last.” He added, taking a small sip.

“Oh.” Tonraq nodded, thoughtfully. “When did you bend air? I know that she’s young but she’s bent the others and I wasn’t sure if it’s later.”

“I was ten months old.” Tenzin answered.

“But our dad knew earlier.” Bumi added, nostalgia getting the better of him.

“How?” Tonraq asked, his eyebrows wrinkled together.

“He said he could feel it.” Bumi started, his voice growing thick with feeling. “I really don’t know how. But we all kind of could, actually.” He turned back to his brother. “It  just… it feels different.”

“Is Korra like that? Different?”

Tenzin and Bumi shared a look. The truth was, she was different. But not like Tenzin had been. She didn’t feel like him or their father. She wasn’t an air bender, not yet. But that wasn’t something they’d share with her father.

“The fact that she can bend three at her age is already unprecedented.” Tenzin said, instead, dancing around the question. He pressed a tattooed hand against the table, speaking in his most politican-esk voice. “Most Avatars didn’t start bending the other elements until they were declared at sixteen. There’s no rule book for this.” He nodded, reassuringly. “She’ll bend air when she needs to. She’s not an air nomad so it’ll be different.”

“Okay.” Tonraq said, taking it all in. He clasped and unclasped his rough hands together on the table.

“Any more questions?” Tenzin asked, a single shred of irritation leaking into his voice. The band was playing their final set of the night, one of their original songs that was getting just a few of the local patrons excited.

“Well…” Tonraq started, seeming even more unsure than before. His eyes flicked from Tenzin’s head to his hands. “Will she get…”

“It’s not off the table,” Tenzin started, scratching his forehead. “But typically Avatars outside of the Air Nomads don’t get tattoos.” Bumi raised an eyebrow, surprised by his nonchalance. Typically actually meant never. Not once ever. But Tenzin seemed to be leaving it open ended, probably, shockingly, to fuck with him. Tenzin rubbed the blue on his hands.

“To get the tattoos means ascribing yourself to our way of life. Historically, the Avatar doesn’t want to do that.” Tenzin added. “She’s Water Tribe. She’s going to keep being Water Tribe. Also, by the time I’m training her she’ll be in her late teens. Typically you get the tattoos at thirteen.”

“Wow.” Tonraq blanched. He was trying very hard appear unfazed, and it was not working. “Okay.”

“But again,” Tenzin added, taking a final sip of his drink. “Not off the table.”

“Alright.” Tonraq stood up, suddenly eager to leave. “I should probably get back but uh… thanks guys for talking with me.” He said, earnestly, squeezing each of their shoulders. “I hope that we can hang out again soon.”

“Great.” Bumi waved. “Take care.”

“Yeah, bye.” Tenzin nodded.

They both watched, in baited breath, as a sufficiently shaken Tonraq returned to his friends. They all got a table on the other end of the bar, on the other side of the band.

As soon as it seemed that Tonraq was out of earshot, Bumi burst out laughing. He couldn’t believe what he’d watched. In a few careful words, his brother, his timid, goody-two-shoes of a brother had completely rattled a seemingly steadfast man.

“Not off the table?” Bumi wheezed. He steadied himself on the countertop, nearly falling out of his chair.

“It’s not impossible.” Tenzin shruged. He completely composed, but his crooked grin was giving him away. He was enjoying himself.

“You started training when you were two” Bumi wiped a tear from his eyes, collecting himself. “And it took you twelve years to get tattoos. Theres no way.”

“Miracles can happen.” Tenzin put up both hands, in mock-defense. “Maybe she starts bending tomorrow. Who knows.” A small laugh escaped his lips. “She really liked them.” He chuckled.

“That poor man.” Bumi shook his head. He could still see Tonraq from across the bar. His entire body seemed tense, largely, he would wager, because of them. “He’s so stressed out. You couldn’t have just told him no?”

Tenzin met his gaze with something new. There was a wildness in his eyes Bumi hadn’t seen before.

“Oh Bumi,” Tenzin clicked his tongue. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“I guess your right.” Bumi laughed, lightly. This was the Tenzin that listened to a band before it was cool. The one who cared about what he wore, even if it was to the only bar in his mother’s small town. This was the Tenzin who was confident. The one who would have absolutely soared if his life had gone another way. It was as crushing as it was exciting to meet him for the first time.

“He does seem like a sweet guy, though. And a good dad.” Tenzin added. He was looking across the bar, examining Tonraq with a mixed look. “I feel a little bad that I didn’t make him feel better.” He admitted. “I also kind of don’t care.”

Bumi blinked.

“Yeah.” He started, slowly, searching for the right thing to say. Tenzin didn’t get dark or uncaring, at least not with him. He and Kya would sometimes, but mostly aimed at each other. He appreciated the honesty, even if he didn’t particularly love the apathy that had settled in his brother. Bumi leaned back in his stool. “I don’t think you need to.”

Tenzin nodded, which was the closest they would get to acknowledging the mild absurdity that was his life. That wove him and Tonraq together with the ceratinty that they would know one another for the rest of their time on this plane.

“Do you think we need to pay?” Tenzin asked, instead, glancing at the array of glasses they’d collected.

“With Koko? No.” Bumi mused. He dug a coin pouch from his pocket, and pulled out a few Water Tribe pieces. “But we’ll tip. Always tip." Bumi added, in their father's language, with a small smile.It was a habit their dad drilled into each of them. Even if you don't have to pay for the meal, you tip your server. No one ever needed the Avatar to pay for anything, but Aang insisted on tipping. Aang always tipped.

“Always tip.”  Tenzin smiled. "I forgot about that." He itched his arrow, absentmindedly. "I mean, I tip, of course, but I forgot about how dad said it."

"Well," Bumi cleared his throat, "now you'll remember."

"Yeah." Tenzin nodded. He seemed so much lighter than normal, so much freer it was startling. "Yeah, I will."

Chapter Text

Izumi

The boat ride to the South Pole was colder than she remembered. She had spent every Solstice here for eighteen years. She used to dream of it. But it had been a long time since she’d felt cold winter air like this. Iroh refused to come above deck once they hit Arctic waters, and after some attempts at negotiation, Izumi went back up with Su- who’d insisted on coming. Kaito stayed below with their son, ensuring that it was his inner fire keeping him safe. Izumi used to stand above deck and watch the South Pole come into view. It was her favorite part of the journey. It stung more than it should, that it was so foreign to her son. She had grown up thinking that her children would have a deeper connection to the Poles than she’d ever be able to articulate.

Zuko and Toph came to collect them at the docks. Her father seemed sturdier than he had when he left, but the South had always been a good look for him. Zuko whispered something to Toph as they docked, causing her to shove his hand like they were kids. It wasn’t just the South that brought it out of him. Izumi forced out a hello, trying to stifle the pang in her chest.

As soon as they stepped on solid ground, Iroh was at his grandfather’s side, talking animatedly about all that he’d missed in his days away. Zuko scooped him up, though he was getting a bit too big to cradle, and listened with wrapped attention.

As soon as Su called to her mother, Toph collected her daughter in her arms with a familiar fervor. There was almost a desperation in her arms, a need to hold, to protect, all of her at once. Their embrace was possibly the only thing that reminded Izumi of why they were here. There was a new Avatar. The world had changed. And with it, all of them.

Kaito, Izumi and Iroh were staying at the official residence of the Fire Nation in the town square. Every capital had guest houses for the other world leaders as an act of good faith and diplomacy. Izumi had never stayed in it, not once in her childhood. It was only after the break up, after Iroh, after Aang, that she stayed there. It was nice. It was big and clean and had the colors of home. But every morning, Izumi half-expected to wake up in Hakoda’s guest room, the one she shared with Lin and Kya, all smushed together under furs piled high.

Her father offered to stay with them too, he’d even brought his bag to the docks, but Izumi didn’t let him. She couldn’t take that from him, not now. Since Aang passed, Zuko had spent a lot of time in Katara’s house. First, she thought the visits were check-ins, ways to quell his nervous mind and ensure that she was alright. Overtime, she realized they were just as much for him as they were for her. He missed Aang so profusely. It was physically painful for him, she could see it in his face. But going to Katara’s house, reading Aang’s old books and sharing stories, it helped. She couldn’t take that. Not now.

They arrived long after dark, when the moon was high in the sky and most of the lights and fires had gone out. Kaito thought that they should wait until the morning to go to Katara’s, but Izumi knew that they’d still be up. This wasn’t real until she saw them. She couldn’t come all the way here, breathe this air, and not see her Auntie.

Kaito was nervous on their walk over, the way he was always nervous in the company of her extended web of family. She understood. It was Bumi’s family too. He had been the great love of her teens and the boy who she once thought she’d spend the rest of her life with. Even though the three of them now were more than cordial, sipping tea with his mother was another step. Izumi squeezed his gloved hand in hers as they walked. Just one foot in front of the other.

They could hear the house before they opened the door. The chatter was almost electric, as though the warmth was radiating off of it. A familiar longing bubbled in Izumi’s chest as nostalgia flooded her senses.

“Look who we found!” Toph grinned, breaking through the commotion.

It was a different house, but it was just as she remembered. Suki and Tenzin were at the fire, looking over papers with cups of tea. Sokka and Katara could be heard in the kitchen, bickering lightheartedly. Lin and Kya were engrossed in a game of cards as Hakoda and Kanna looked on. And at the center of it all, calling back to his mother as he brought another heaping tray of snacks to their guests, nearly spilling with every step and yet somehow keeping it steady, was Bumi.

He froze. So did she. And then he broke into that famous, crooked smile.

“Uncle Bumi!” Iroh yelled, breaking their spell. He wove through both of his parents and into Bumi’s arms, who, wisely, had tossed both trays to his mildly peeved brother in anticipation. 

“Iroh!” Bumi smiled, tossing the boy into the air before holding him close. “Oh I missed you, kiddo.”

“I missed you more!” Iroh laughed. 

“Mama!” Bumi called, in his mother’s language. He turned back to Izumi, and winked. “Zooms’s is here.”

“Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness!” Katara yelled, bolting from the kitchen with her arms out. Before Izumi could respond she pulled her into a crushing hug. “Oh my sweet girl. Welcome back, my love.” She muttered, in her native language. Izumi squeezed back. Katara had been at the palace just a few months before, but she was a firm believer in a big reunion.

“Hi, Auntie.” Izumi smiled. She breathed in the familiar smells of her furs and her hair. “I missed you so much.”

“Iroh! Come here, baby!” Katara knelt down, opening her arms to the boy, who happily leaped into her lap. “Look at you! You’re so tall.” She cooed.

The rest of the hugs and hellos followed, each as grand and warm as the last. Kaito tried to welcome each of them with a handshake or half-hug, but that was quickly thwarted. They were a touchy group, and he would not be an exception.

In all of the commotion, Izumi realized she hadn’t actually said anything to Bumi. It had been over five months since she’d seen him, which had become more normal in the last few years, but tonight it felt much longer. She found him in the back of the crowd that had been created by the door, leaning against the wall as he looked on.

She made a face at him, and he made one back. Without a word, they both wove away from their family and into the kitchen. They’d both be caught in a matter of minutes, they always were, but she needed to see him. His life had just turned upside down. She would’ve been there, in a another life. She would’ve held him close and quelled his fears and kept the peace between his siblings so that he didn’t have to. And that wasn’t what they were to each other anymore. And most of the time that was okay. But this week… his life turned upside down. And she wasn’t there. She needed to talk to him.

The beaded door clacked as they slipped into the kitchen.

“It’s good to see you, Zooms.” Bumi started, clearing his throat.

“You too, Bumi.” Izumi nodded, taking him in. The sea had changed him, it had for a while, but it was more noticeable right now. His hair was longer, tied back in the style his uncle often wore, with two new beads- both yellow. He had a new scar, one on his chin, that she’d ask for the story about later.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“Don’t be.” He clicked his tongue. She assumed he was taking her in too, noticing the new glasses and the bags under her eyes.

Bumi was like no one else she knew. He was kinder than a lot of people gave him credit for. He had every opportunity to be cruel, and at every turn he went the other way. He’d had a hard teenhood A difficult early twenties. But as he approached his mid twenties, it seemed the dust had finally settled, and the man stepping out of it was one she was eternally grateful was still in her life. They’d tried to stay apart, to hate one another the way you were supposed to hate someone who broke your heart, but they just couldn’t. It felt wrong without him. It was like if she stopped bending. It wasn’t something she knew how to do. They needed each other in a way that felt desperate.

That was harder to explain to Kaito than she was expecting. And then Iroh came along so quickly, and that’s what they talked about. She didn’t need to convince him of anything, then. They were linked, forever, through him. For Kaito, that translated to meaning that they had something deeper than whatever she’d had her in rose colored youth with the Avatar’s son. Privately, Izumi knew it wasn’t that simple. Iroh was her son. He was everything. And he was hers. And she loved the pieces of Kaito thats he saw in him. And yet.

“So-”

“Izumi, thank Agni you’re here.” Kya started, bursting into the kitchen. Lin and Su were trailing after her, already slipped into her very practiced role of the littlest sister. The water bender walked between Izumi and Bumi to get the kettle, entirely guiltless for interrupting their conversation. “We have so much to discuss.”

Izumi glanced at Bumi, raising an eyebrow. He shook his head, amused more than he was annoyed.

“I’m listening.” Izumi laughed, leaning against the counter. It was as if seven years had collapsed in a single minute. There was no time to ease or catch your breath with this group. It was everyone and everything, all the time. And she’d missed it more than she could express.

“Okay.” Kya whipped back around, slamming her glass on the kitchen island with anticipation. “Guess how Lin got here.”

“Kya.” Lin groaned. She’d hopped up on the kitchen counter, and covered her face with her hands.

“Appa.” Kya continued, ignoring her pleas. “With Tenzin.”

“What?” Izumi gawked.

“I know.” Kya shook her head. She poured five cups of tea, pushing the first across the counter to Izumi.

“Lin!” Su pestered, scrambling up to sit beside her sister. “You didn’t tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Lin snipped. “And besides, Izumi doesn’t need to know this.”

“Wait,” Bumi pipped up, brows furrowed as he reached for his cup. “I didn’t know this.”

“How did you not-” Kya started, rolling her eyes. “Never mind.”

“No one tells me anything.” He argued, putting his hands up in mock-defense.

“We do, you just don’t listen.” Tenzin argued, opening the curtain to join the fray. He poured himself a cup of tea and sat beside Izumi. Out of everyone, she saw him the most. That would keep being true, probably for the rest of their lives. They were on similar paths, similar destinies with similar results. That, and they were also the culprits of the great rifts in their generation. They were the people that broke off the relationships. They frayed the edges of their delicate relationship. With that burden, came a sort of comforting respect.

Izumi tried not to stare, but it was hard not to try and read the younger man. He seemed shockingly at ease, at least right now. She’d get the rest of the story later.

“What else,” Kya muttered. She’d finished off her tea, grabbed one of her mother’s bottle’s of Fire Whiskey and poured it into her cup. “Oh, your dad is in a bidding war for a set of plates?”

“Glass.” Bumi corrected, holding out his glass. He’d joined Lin and Su on the counter. Lin also took a cup. Su tried, much to her sister’s amusement, but was left dry. She would always be their baby.

“Glasses, I guess?” Kya shrugged. “It’s taken over a weird amount of the week…”

“There was seeing the Avatar.” Tenzin added, sarcastically. To her surprise, he also accepted the whiskey, and took a generous pour.

“Well obviously,” Kya spat back. “But I’m talking about the stuff that didn’t make any of us unstable.”

“We’re stable.” Tenzin argued. Izumi watched as Lin, Bumi, and Kya all made a face- of varying levels of pity and confusion.

“You broke a radio.” Lin said, matter-o-factly.

“I said I’d pay for it!” Tenzin sputtered.

Izumi didn’t know this story. She didn’t know a lot of their stories anymore. But she knew this. She knew this house and these people and they knew her - even if some of them were a little sharper now.

In the commotion that erupted, Bumi caught her eyes and grinned. He was thinking the same thing. It hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

There were parts of her that were from here, parts of her that lived across the world from her, parts that were hard to understand. But right now, those pieces were together. And it was home, as much as the palace. As much as Ember Island.

As much as Kaito.

Katara 

“And then what happened?”

Iroh was sitting up straight on her bed, eyes wide and wrapped with attention. He reminded Katara so much of his mother. And his grandfather, sometimes.

“The hen ran all the way home.” She concluded, hoisting him back into her lap. “Making it just before dark.” She added, kissing him on the forehead.

About an hour ago, the boy had pulled on her sleeve, asking to play. Katara was never one to say no to that offer. He also asked Suki and Toph to come, which wounded her, but she got over. After a lot of pillow fighting, she managed to coax him into a more mellow activity. Suki and Toph stayed, which led to all of them smushed into her bed.

“But what about the wolf?” He wrinkled his brows, puzzled.

Katara smiled. She was hoping he’d ask that.

“The wolf found a little boy to gobble up!” She yelled, tickling him all over.

“Ah!” Iroh squealed. His laughter was so sweet it was contagious.

“Tell it again! Tell it again!” He begged.

Iroh beamed up at her with those spirit-sent golden eyes. She would’ve told it a thousand times. Just as she was about to, there was a soft knock at the door.

“You know we’ve been looking for him.” Zuko called, leaning on the doorframe.

“I know, that’s why we’re hiding back here.” Toph joked. She was lying across the foot of the bed, more content than she’d been in days. Katara knew it was because Su was here now. All her babies in one place. She knew the feeling.

“Someone’s jealous.” Suki muttered in the Earth Kingdom’s language. Toph smirked.

“It’s way past his bedtime.” Zuko huffed.

“You’re no fun.” Katara teased.

Before Zuko could retaliate, another figure joined him in the doorframe- one far less relaxed.

“Hi- oh,” Kaito blinked, suddenly nervous. He was always nervous around Katara, not that she did much to change it. “I- apologies I was just here to get him for bed.” He said, stilted.

“Of course.” Katara nodded, kindly. She turned to the boy, who was still snug in her lap. “Okay, come on Iroh.” She hoisted him to his feet, and coaxed him out of bed. “Listen to your dad. Time to go.”

“No…” Iroh frowned, crossing his arms like his grandfather would. Katara leaned down to meet his eyes, and brushed his hair from his face.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay my love?” She assured. Iroh nodded, sadly, and gave her another hug.

Iroh met his dad and Zuko, holding both of their hands as they started towards the door.

“Goodnight Auntie Katara and Suki and Toph.” Iroh called.

“Goodnight, my light.” Katara called back, overlapping with Suki and Toph’s farewells.

Katara sighed. Sometimes she felt like they could have had one more. Just one. After the world had settled and their children were older and life felt clearer. But then she thinks of what that would look like now, and she thanks the spirits they didn’t.

Katara shut the door and slumped back into her bed beside Toph.

“How come only you’re Auntie?” Toph asked.

“It’s because I’ve gone gray.” Katara lamented. “It’s a sign of respect since I’m aged.”

“It was like five hairs, you’re fine.” Suki clicked her tongue. She sat up, clapping her hands together as she started for the closet. “You need to help me pick dress, I can’t keep wearing the same thing again.”

“No one cares, really.” Katara insisted, for the umpteenth time. In the chaos of getting here, Suki had only packed a few weather-appropriate items, which she’d exhausted by the end of the second day. Despite everyone’s reassurance, it was slowly irking her.

“Tell that to your Aunties.” Suki muttered. She started looking through the dresses on the hanger, pulling things she liked.

“They should just to stay here.” Toph said, after a while. “They came all this way.”

“Izumi would never, not anymore.” Suki sighed.

“She knows she’s welcome.” Katara insisted. She pulled the furs up over her legs. “If it’s Kaito who’s keeping her from us I’ll kill him.”

“You know it’s her.” Suki said, turning around. “He doesn’t seem like that type. We raised her better.”

“Well it’s still not fair.” Toph muttered.

“Agreed.” Katara mused.

“Well when Tenzin and Pema have kids you can make them stay here.” Suki said, smirking.

“Oh don’t say that.” Katara shook her head. “Tenzin shouldn’t have kids yet. He’s a baby. They’re both babies.”

“You were a baby when you had babies.” Toph countered.

“And so I know.” Katara argued.

Suki pulled a dress from the back of the closet. Katara blanched. 

“What is this?” She asked, an excited smile spreading across her face.

“Suki-”

“This is hot,” Suki drawled. “You never wear this!”

"I wear it, just not around you. When would we go to an event that warrants this?”

“I don’t know a dinner party, the bakery, anywhere. I, you need to wear this.” Suki sat on the bed, cradling the dress like it was gold. She put it in Toph’s hands, describing it. “It’s like sort of a skin-tight situation, with beads and a low, low neckline. It would go with like a silvery pair of earrings, and maybe those boots she has, the leather ones.”

“Alright, alright enough.” Katara snatched the dress, and swiftly put it back on its hanger.

“Please just tell me you wear it sometimes.” Suki lamented. “I need to know you wear it.” 

“I wear it when I go out with Noriko and her friends.” Katara admitted. “We go dancing on Thursdays.”

“Where do you dance around here?” Toph asked, stymied.

“A town over.” Katara shrugged.

The two women were quiet. Katars shifted in her seat, collecting the dress and folding it in her lap. She could feel their eyes on her. Suki made a face, squeezing Toph’s hand with a tightness Katara didn’t recognize.

“What?” She asked. She felt so young when she was with them, but she felt young when she danced too.

“Nothing. Nothing honey.” Suki cleared her throat, wiping her eye with a nervous hand.

“We just…” Toph took a breath, reaching out for Katra’s hand. She rubbed her thumb into her palm. “You haven’t danced in a long time, Katara.”

Katara chewed on the inside of her cheek. She thought of him every time they went dancing. The first time she stepped foot into the bar, she nearly turned back, but her friends held her hand and swayed beside her and requested her favorite song. And she still talked to him on her long walk home, hoping that Yue would deliver her messages to wherever the spirits had stored his soul. But it was easier the next week. And the next. And on the fifth night out, she took up a man’s offer to dance. And he wasn’t very good, and she was rusty, and it didn’t feel like him at all. But she still tried.

“My mother died at thirty.” Katara started, staring at her hands. She’d been toying with how to describe why she kept going, why she kept putting one foot in front of the other. Her children were most of it, but there was something else too. Something buried deep, born in her bones. “Her mother at thirty-nine. I’m forty-five. I am the longest living woman in my maternal line in over a hundred years.” Katara met Suki’s eyes with a newfound confidence. “I owe it to them. I can’t waste away. I have to keep going.”

Suki and Toph moved to either side of her, holding her close like they used to when they were young and their problems were impossibly big and the only thing on their shoulders was the fate of the world.

“We’re really glad you’re dancing, Katara.” Toph whispered.

Chapter Text

Bumi

The couch was too soft. That happened to soldiers after coming home. Bumi spent most of his time sleeping on a thin mattress in the metal hull of a boat. His body had become accustomed to that. He’d adapted. Adapting to normal life… that was harder.

He could’ve roomed with Tenzin. It’s where he’d stayed before their mother dragged his brother back. home He’d set up in the room without asking, which puzzled Bumi before he belatedly realized that it was literally Tenzin’s room. Because he’d actually lived here. Really lived here. At least for a little while.

Bumi turned his couch pillow over. For the umpteenth time he pulled out his pocket watch and held it out to spot where the moonlight was trickling in through the window. It was two o’clock in the morning. They’d said goodnight over three hours ago and he’d had no luck. Resigned to his fate, Bumi decided to take advantage of the peace and quiet. In all the commotion of the last week, he hadn’t been able to get to his favorite place yet, and this seemed as good a time as any.

He wanted to go to the hot springs.

Bumi swung his legs over the couch and put his hair into a haphazard wolf’s tail. Quietly, he stumbled down a dark hallway and into the linen closet to collect the things he’d need for this midnight journey:  his coat, his throwing knives for emergencies, a torch, a towel and a bathing suit. Thankfully, he found a bathing suit that was likely Sokka’s or Zuko’s, since there were the only men who stayed in this house consistently enough to have clothes for every season. It made Bumi feel bad. His boxes were in Sokka and Suki’s basement, they had been since they sold the island. Being at sea as often as he was, Bumi didn’t exactly have a home base of his own. It had just been easier to move them there. But now it had been years, and he’d yet to settle in his mother’s home. He needed to do that.

With his gear collected, he gathered his courage and entered the tundra. The South was his favorite place on earth. It was ridiculously gorgeous in every season, including the dead of winter in the middle of the night. Even with a bitter cold burning his cheeks as he walked down a practiced route, he couldn’t help but feel captivated by the landscape. There weren’t many lights on at this time of night, meaning that the snowy hills were only lit by the moon and the stars.

The hot springs were a collection of naturally occurring springs in the South. After the war, they were turned into a national park, which was good for tourism, but bad for the youth of the South, because they now had official business hours. In his teenhood, Bumi had broken in many times, in a variety of different circumstances. At first, it required a mildly perilous trek around to the back of the park, a route that went through what was often referred to as “Polar Bear Dog country.” Now, you just needed to know how to pick a lock.

Bumi crept into the main lobby, taking off his coat and putting it under his arm. The building had been built around the hot springs, allowing them to be used year round. He changed in the men’s dressing room, only because it had heated floors that made the idea of taking off layers in the winter more appealing. Once he was in his suit, he headed down the empty hall. His favorite of the room was on the end. It had a great window that overlooked the tundra, and in the distance, the glittering town. Bumi twisted the handle, eager for his peaceful night of solitude and reflection.

He should’ve known that wouldn’t happen. The people in his family had a peculiar relationship with timing.

Bumi froze in the doorway. He wasn’t the only one with this idea.

“You’re kidding.”

In the spring, her amber eyes staring up at him, was Izumi.

She seemed as surprised as he did, her eyebrows creeping up her forehead. Bumi blinked.

“I can go.” He blurted. Pink was rising on his cheeks, which was frustrating because this should be fine. They were friends, or at least they said it enough times to try and make it true. In the end, they were probably kidding themselves. They weren’t friends. They didn’t hang out like they used to or share like they used to. Because they’d never been friends, they’d always been more. And now it had been too long and it was too awkward and Bumi couldn’t hold it. 

“No, no. You should stay.” Izumi said, standing up. “I can go.”

“Don’t.” Bumi said, quickly. This was hard. Logically, one of they should leave. This wasn’t what they did anymore. But it was hard. Sending her away would feel wrong, even now. Even after it all. They’d grown up beside one another. She was at every event the fun ones and the less fun. She was at every birthday, every ceremony. When things went bad, they were put in the same safe house, told to be quiet and hold his siblings while they’re parents went off to save the world. That wasn’t something that went away, even if they stopped being more.

“I mean…” Bumi picked at the towel in his hand. “This one has the best view, and you’re already in, so.”

Izumi relaxed, her face melting into a small smile.

“Okay.” She said, sitting back down. Bumi nodded, and started to put his stuff beside hers. In her pile of towels and coats, was something he recognized. Bumi laughed lightly, picking up a small silver key.

“I didn’t know you kept it.” He said, cradling it gingerly.

On one trip South when they were sixteen, Izumi had decided she had enough of his dangerous antics, she declared that she would find a better way in. Bumi thought it was a fool’s errand. If there was one thing he learned that winter, it was never to doubt the princess.

“Are you kidding?” Izumi shook her head. “It’s a prized possession.”

“Fair enough.” Bumi shrugged.

He slipped off his shirt, something he’d been leaving to do until the last moment. Izumi turned to the view, but she couldn’t completely mask the twist in her face. For a fraction of a moment, her eyes focused, as they always would, on the nasty scar on his chest. When he was nineteen, he’d been in a fight at sea- a bad one. He almost died. He barely remembered the event or the aftermath, but she did. She remembered every moment, and she would for the rest of her life. Bumi didn’t know how to fix that. They broke up that year, meaning the traumatic memory served as a sort of warped parting gift to their relationship. Life was good before the scar. Everything went wrong after.

That was true about a lot of things that year, though. It was the year his father started to get sick, even though he didn’t tell anyone, and wouldn’t for several years. It was the year Tenzin and Lin started dating officially. The year his sister declared she would be moving after graduation to train in the South. The year his mother took on more work abroad, meaning that she was home less and though they’d never talk about it, he knew she blamed that choice for not noticing his father’s ailments sooner. Privately, Bumi didn’t think it would’ve mattered. If the spirits want something, they get it.

Bumi stepped in, letting the water cover his chest, and with it, put away the memories of another time. He leaned back into the water, letting his head dip back into the steam. The tension that had worked his way through his shoulders was already starting to dissipate.

“So… you can’t sleep?” Izumi asked. She’d brought a thermos of tea, because she was the smartest, most responsible person he knew, and passed it to him. The spring wasn’t small, but there wasn’t a ton of room between them, about an armslength. “It’s the bed, isn’t it? The same thing happens to Kaito.”

“I’m on my mom’s couch, but yeah.” Bumi sighed. The tea was a classic Fire Nation flavor, a strong spiced blend that cleared your sinuses. It tasted like the summers he spent learning how to throw knives with Mai. “Is he up too?” He mused, cautiously. He wasn’t even sure why he was asking. 

“Tonight? Surprisingly he’s not.” Izumi explained, taking the thermos back and taking a sip. “I think its the temperature.”

“A good South Pole sleep is lethal.” Bumi affirmed, resting his arms on the side. Izumi nodded in agreement.

Bumi chewed on the inside of his cheek. There was something more, something else here with them. Izumi was staring out the window, looking out across the tundra. She’d twisted her long black hair into a topknot, a style he hadn’t seen her wear before. Her eyes lingered West, out by the outskirts of town. Her eyes were practically glowing in the dim firelight.

“You met her today, right?” Bumi asked, gingerly. . He was sitting across the spring, but he was close enough to see the nervous knitting of her brows together.

“I did.” Izumi said slowly, turning back to him. “Your mom was right. I do feel better now that I have.” She continued, twirling a loose hair absentmindedly between her fingers. “I don’t think I can explain it to Iroh, though. I can barely explain it to myself.”

“Mhm.” Bumi nodded, brushing his hair out of his face. “I think it helps to remember that she really is just a kid. She’s not apart of our… ness.”

“Our ness?” Izumi raised an eyebrow.

“You know, the craziness. The running and the fighting and the every part of our lives being political fodder or ruin.” Bumi smirked. “Our everything.” He concluded. “She’s three generations away from the war. Like Iroh. Her parents didn’t fight in it. It changes things.”

“I guess it does.” Izumi said, simply. She took another sip.

“How are you, besides all of this?” Bumi asked. They hadn’t seen each other in months. They hadn’t spent time alone to talk like this in… longer.

Izumi thought for a moment, resting her arms against the edge.

“I’m alright. I mean, it’ll be better now that Kaito’s back. Having him gone this much is…” She turned back to the window, chewing on the inside of her cheek like she would when they used to do their homework together. It was a rare face, one she made when she didn’t know the answer. “I don’t know. It feels like it’s not good for Iroh. I feel like I’m still figuring out how to do this with a kid who only sees his dad a few times a month.” She sighed, turning back him with a new lightness. “He missed you too, obviously. But in a normal way, not in an abandonment way.”  She added, somewhat jokingly.

“I missed him too.” Bumi smiled, shaking his head. “And Iroh will be okay. He’s a smart kid. He understands.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t want him to understand.” Izumi lamented, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Spirits, I sound like your mom.”

“Agni, don’t say that.” Bumi wrinkled his nose.

“I do.” Izumi laughed. “I think I’m on her side now with the whole navy thing.”

“It’s a little late to change that, sorry Zooms.” Bumi chuckled, shaking his head. “Okay, how are you doing? You just talked about Iroh.”

“How he’s doing has a lot to do with how I’m doing.” Izumi shrugged.

“I know, but he’s not having our experience of this, thankfully.” Bumi moved closer. He wanted to put a hand on her shoulder, but hesitated. “I mean, obviously it’s not like Tez, but this is a new chapter for you too.”

Izumi frowned. Bumi, of course, was referencing the fact that in time, she would be working with this new Avatar. This was the Avatar that would define her rule, not Aang. In the coming years, Korra would work with Fire Lord Izumi, whether they wanted to or not.

“I’m okay.” Izumi said, carefully. “I think I’m still sort of reeling, but it’s okay.” She sighed, drawing both knees up to her chest. “I feel like I just got woken up from a really long dream and now we’re adults. Everything felt so big when we were kids but now looking back it was so simple.” Izumi stared into the steam rising up in the water.

“Yeah.” Bumi took a heavy breath. “But it never feels that way at the time. I’m sure we’ll say the same thing about now one day.”

“I’m sure we will.” Izumi mused. She took another sip from the thermos, taking her time. “So… my dad said things were a little difficult when you went to see her.” She said, after a while.

Her eyes were wide with a sympathetic curiosity. She wanted to know. She wanted to help. It was nice. It should’ve been nice.

And yes, they were friends. They saw each other. Her son called him Uncle Bumi. And yet… something felt different this time. They hadn’t been in the South Pole together in almost a decade. They hadn’t been here together since his father was the Avatar and life was smaller and the biggest person in it was her. Bumi wanted to tell her. He wanted to talk endlessly with her in the way they used to. But that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t her job to hold all that plagued him. Not anymore. That was the deal now.

Bumi took a small sip from the thermos, the familiar spices, once a comfort, now another reminder of all that he’d lost.

“It was as good as it could be.” Bumi decided. This wasn’t for her to hold.

Izumi clicked her tongue, discouraged.

“Boom.” She said, moving closer.

“What?” Bumi asked, feigning normalcy.  Izumi made a face. Bumi turned away. “This isn’t-” He shook his head, staring at his hands in the steaming water. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Bumi. I know.” Izumi said, patiently. Slowly, she put a smooth hand on his shoulder. Hesitantly, he met her eyes. He wanted to drown in them, two perfect shining pools of amber. “But I’m asking.”

And maybe it was because they were in the South Pole. Maybe it was because he missed his dad and his childhood and the version of himself that made her laugh louder than anyone else. Maybe it was because he was tried. Maybe it was because he didn’t feel like he could talk to his siblings about his. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe it was all of these things. But probably it was just one. The thing that had been true their entire lives.

There was very little he wouldn’t do for the princess.

“I don’t know.” Bumi sighed, slipping further into the pool. He kept his eyes focused out into the dark tundra. “I really don’t. I think I’m okay? I feel like I’ve spent the last four years trying to not think about this and now we’re here. And I don’t know…” Bumi swallowed, running a nervous hand over his head. “I guess I feel how I felt when my dad died but also how I’ve always felt with this stuff. Like… it’s new but also it’s really not.”

“What’s not new?” Izumi asked, gently.

“I feel useless.” Bumi admitted, sitting up and stirring the water around him. It didn’t move away in gentle waves like it would have for his mother or sister or father. It moved like it was disrupted. Like it was repelled. Like it didn’t recognize him.

“I feel completely useless.” He said again, trying to stifle the ache in his throat.  “Kya is so angry and my mom is putting on this whole front and Tenzin is getting the most important job of his life put on his back again and I can’t do anything to stop any of it. They need…” Bumi bit his tongue. He sighed, his fists had formed tight balls under the water. “They need something and they don’t have it.”

“And you think you should’ve been it.” Izumi clarified. She’d sat beside him, listening intently as he barred his soul. Her eyebrows were pinched together in thought.

“I think that I’m not helpful.” Bumi wiped his hands across his face, trying to breathe out the weight that had settled on his chest. “I just-”

“Bumi, no, stop.” Izumi interrupted him, suddenly. She’d been so gentle, the sharpness in her voice almost surprised him.

“What?” Bumi blinked. Izumi’s mouth formed a thin line.

“You being an air bender would not save them.”

Izumi spoke with an absolute confidence, one that reminded him that her title of princess was merely a placeholder. Bumi blinked, completely caught off guard. He sat up straighter.

“I don’t think that-” He rambled, almost embarrassed to hear his deepest insecurity said so loudly. “I wasn’t going to say that.” He defended, weakly.

“Really? You really weren’t thinking that? Don’t give me that.” Izumi asked, crossing her arms. She wasn’t taking it. She took a breath, taking another sip from the thermos as Bumi waited in baited breath.

“Look, Boom, you are exactly who you need to be.” Izumi continued, meeting his eyes with steadfast compassion. “Would it be nice if there were two air benders right now, of course. But Tenzin also needs someone to lean on, and he wouldn’t be able to do that if you were in it with him like that.” She continued, drawing a knee up to her chest. “Whether or not you can bend has always been completely out of your control and not your fault.”

“I know.” Bumi said, quietly. He felt like he’d been caught, which in a way he had. She’d unknowingly found him on the precipice of true spiral and yanked him from it.

“Do you?”

“I do.” Bumi said, his voice a little stronger.

Because he did. He did know, logically, that this was the case. It was his burden to carry, the thing that would define his life in many ways. That didn’t go away, in fact it only got worse when his father passed. He had a few good years of peace with his lack though, in the middle. He would again, just maybe not now. But he didn’t need to wallow in it either.

Izumi stared at him with a fervor like she was trying to look through his eyes and into his mind. After a moment, she turned away, seemingly satisfied with her assement.

“Okay.” Izumi settled back, leaning against the edge. Her eyes were closed as she slipped further into the pool. “Because we’re not doing that again. We’re twenty-six. You’re you. And that’s enough.” She declared.

“Thanks, Zooms.” Bumi said. It didn’t fee like enough, it never would, but it was what you say.

“Don’t thank me, just get out of that loop.” She corrected.

“Alright. Alright.” Bumi laughed, lightly.  “I’ll try.”

“You better.”

They talked for hours. Some of it was heavy, some of it lighter. Bumi admitted that he didn’t know if his siblings would ever truly get along again, and Izumi revealed that she thinks her father wants to retire, even if he hasn’t admitted it to himself yet. It felt like it always had, and it also felt completely different. It was a new dance they were doing, but to the tune of the one they’d done all their lives. Regardless, as they finally stepped out of the hot springs and back into the cold winter air, the weight that had settled atop Bumi’s chest had lightened.

The sun was just creeping over the horizon as they started the walk home. They’d talked all night, yet Bumi felt more refreshed than he had in months. 

“Tomorrow I was thinking of taking Iroh penguin sledding.” Izumi asked, as they started to round the corner to his mother’s house. Though he offered many times to walk her home, Izumi insisted that she could handle the handful of blocks to her residence- and that his offers were verging on offensive. “Would you want to come?” She asked.

There was a sparkle in her eyes that he hadn’t seen when she arrived. She seemed as awake as he was, as light and fueled by their talk.

“Are you kidding?” Bumi said, a little too loudly for the morning. He didn’t care. He was smiling from ear to ear. “I’d love to!”

“I was thinking of going to Sparkler’s Peak.”

“The Peak?” Bumi stopped in his tracks, aghast. “No way. It’s the Valley or nowhere.”

“What’s not to like about the Peak?” Izumi argued, mock-offended. “It’s the best spot by a lot.”

“I actually can’t believe you’d say that to me.” Bumi huffed, putting both hands up.

“I can’t believe you’d pick the Valley!” Izumi pushed.

“The Valley is perfect!” Bumi argued, a small laugh escaped his lips. “It has big hills, small hills it’s-”

There was a man approaching his mother’s front door. Bumi dropped his hands, his carefree attitude falling away with it. The man was in a military uniform, though it could’ve been stolen. Nothing could be ruled out, not with so much on the line. In half a second, everything shifted.

Izumi, who’d realized just as he did, looked at him with a similar wariness. Bumi put a hand up, moving Izumi behind him, and she didn’t fight it. Though often they were trained in tandem, in this moment Bumi knew his role. It was likely the man hadn’t seen her yet, and thus didn’t know who she was. They’d keep it that way.

They had found a new Avatar. And she was a child. The world was in a precarious moment. That made people dangerous.

“Can I help you?” Bumi asked, firmly. The man was just a few yards from his mother’s door, now stopped short. He looked surprised to see them, but not scared. A good sign.

The man approached them and put a hand up in salute.

“I have a letter from Commander Rho for Lieutenant Bumi.” He said, holding a small scroll in his hand.

“That’s me.” Bumi said, still on edge. “Lieutenant Bumi. Squadron 5522. Badge Number 02212005.” He rattled off, almost unconsciously. He stood straight up, trying to make himself as big as possible as he read the man’s body language. Behind him, Izumi was turned to the side, trying to do the opposite.

The man re-read the address, and looked back up.

“It’s confirmed.” The man passed him the scroll. “This is for you, sir.”

“At ease.” Bumi said, taking it quickly. “That’ll be all. Thank you.”

“Of course, sir.” The man saluted, and started back towards town.

Bumi watched until he turned down the road that led towards the harbor. Once he was out of eyesight, he turned to the scroll in his hand. It had a large URGENT signal on it. It looked worn, having traveled a great distance to get to him. The person who sent it had mailed it two days ago. That was a bad sign.

“I’ve never heard of a Commander Rho.” Izumi said, as he unfurled it. They hadn’t spoken since he left. Her voice was different now, far more reserved than the laughter that had consumed them both just minutes ago. It was almost whiplash inducing.

Bumi clicked his tongue, reading the message with a furrowed brow.

“That’s because he doesn’t exist.” He sighed. He should’ve said more, but his brain was working a mile a minute. The world had changed in these sentences.

“It’s a code.” Izumi realized. “What does it mean?”

“It’s a warning.” Bumi frowned. He closed his eyes, forcing his mind to quiet. He had to think. To be smart. They’d already lost two days.

“Okay, you need to home and wake all of them.” Bumi started, turning to Izumi with a newfound steadiness. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Bring everyone over to my mom’s. Don’t make any stops. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” Izumi reached for his arm. Bumi stopped. “Where are you going?”

Bumi sighed. He squeezed her arm in his. The scroll was in his other hand, burning like the first ember that brings down a forest or the first arrow shot in war.

“I’m getting the Avatar.” He admitted. “We’ve officially got a problem.”

Chapter Text

Lieutenant Bumi,

You’ve been summoned to resume your post. Operation Early Bird is a go. This weekend you will be assigned to your new posting.

Good luck.

Commander Rho

It was a simple code. Bumi hadn’t had time to think about anything particularly crafty in his haste. He’d made it on the ride to the South Pole from the docks of Republic City. He had a lot of time to think then, and in that time he realized that they needed more than the plans Tenzin was likely dusting off. The world knew about the Avatar, that meant something like this would happen. Someone would try something, try to play super villain and throw off the balance of the world. It was a cheap shot, trying to take out a kid. It was the secret reason they didn’t normally reveal the Avatar until they were sixteen.

Ergo, they were already behind. They needed more ears and eyes than the other guys. So earlier this week Bumi sent out some messages. He had a special group of people for things like this. People he could trust who didn’t always life on the straight and narrow. It was important to have friends in the gray area. Though now he was a solider, his teenhood had led him to… interesting places. Most people were still willing to talk with him, which made stuff like this easier.

And so he sent the messages and he sent a code, including one for his uncle, to keep them all in the loop.

You’ve been summoned to resume your post - I’ve heard word of a plot happening. They’re coming.

Operation Early Bird is a go - you must protect the Avatar. And okay, that part was clever, Korra was early.

This weekend-  that’s obvious.

Good luck - whoever’s after Korra is bad news. This is a real threat and not to be underestimated. Expect no mercy.

Bumi waited until Izumi turned the corner into the main part of town. His hair was cold and brittle, the dampness turned to ice from the hot springs, which now felt a lifetime away. He took a breath, tucking the scroll into his pocket and assessing, for the umpteenth time, the plan he’d half-formed in his head. One step at a time. He could almost hear Kaito’s instructions in his head. Focus on the next right thing, the rest will follow.

Bumi needed to get the Avatar. But first, Bumi needed to tell his house that they were receiving the Avatar. That was the next thing.

His mind was racing a mile a minute, tracing every possibility, every outcome, everything that could’ve led to this. He was practically buzzing as he turned into the house, barreling through the front door.

Bumi was going so fast, he practically ran over his younger brother.

“Bumi?” Tenzin asked, raising an eyebrow. He’d been tending to the fire, already up and in his dress clothes. In one part of his brain, a memory from another time, Bumi understood that he was up to meditate.

“Hi. Hey.” Bumi blinked.

“What’s going on?” Tenzin asked. His voice sounded smaller than it had in a while. Bumi hesitated. His heart was still racing. He needed to breathe. He needed to act like a solider. That was harder when your little brother was looking up at you with sleepy grey eyes.

But he wasn’t just his little brother. He was an air bending master. He was a member of the White Lotus. And as head of everything that had to do with the Avatar, he was in charge of this mission.

“I got a message.” Bumi said, fishing the scroll from his pocket and placing it in his hands. Tenzin inspected it, gingerly. “I think there’s a plot against the Avatar. She’s in danger.”

“Okay.” Tenzin said, studying the scroll. He must’ve read it three times over, painstakingly stealing away all that he could from between the lines. He turned back to his brothers with a new seriousness in his brow. “What’s already been done? What do we need?”

In another life, Bumi could see Tenzin feeling threatened by his intervening. He could feel jealous in some twisted way, or insecure in his own leadership. But he didn’t. He didn’t care about that sort of thing. He was practical. Pragmatic. He could keep his feelings out of this sort of thing. It was a skill their father never mastered, one he appeared to be born with. He would do what needed to be done, always.

“Izumi has gone to get her family. We need to get Korra and everyone else and meet back here.” Bumi explained, sighing deeply. “I’m sure you have a protocol for this sort of thing?”

“We do. We’ll need to alert the White Lotus, but keep it small. I have the lists and contacts in my room.” Tenzin said. He massaged the arrow on his hand, absentmindedly. “Can you… can you get her? I’m just worried about being… conspicuous.”

“Of course.” Bumi said, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. This was his mission. His call. Bumi put a firm hand on Tenzin’s shoulder. “Wake everyone else. I’ll be back soon.”

“Will do.” Tenzin affirmed, starting down the hall. He stalled for a moment, turning back with a sudden levity. “Wait… how did Izumi already know this was happening?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Time and place.” Bumi hissed, ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks.

“You’re not getting out answering because there’s an international emergency.” Tenzin smirked.

“Shush.” Bumi waved a hand, pestering him as he went to the door. “Just shush and go.”

Tenzin

Tenzin knew this would happen. Not in the way that his father may have. Not in the way that his sister had predicted her return, or his mother may have had a feeling about it. He knew because it had happened before. Over and over.

It happened to his father. To Bumi when he was a baby. And Kya. And himself. It happened again after his father died. Someone wanted to see if they could do it. Wipe out the Air Nation. Evidently, they couldn’t.

When things are shakiest, when things are new or unknown or different, people try things. They always do. His father would say that it came from fear and pain, that we should embrace them with understanding.  His father would’ve already forgiven them. Tenzin wasn’t so sure. All he knew is that it would happen. Someone would come after Korra. And not just to scare them, not to spur anything, but to wholly and completely change their lives. They would take her or kill her. Neither was an option he was comfortable with. So Tenzin made a plan. He made more than one plan. He made versions of versions with stipulations and backups and every trapdoor they may need. Because he knew this would happen. Not because the spirits warned him, but because he was practical. Pragmatic. He would do what needed to be done.

Tenzin walked down the hall briskly, passing his sister’s door to the one at the end of the hall. Kya and Lin would be up in a few minutes, but for now they’d be able to keep sleeping. As he approached his mother’s door, Tenzin started to become less and less sure. The feigned control he’d managed to cobble together with his brother was quickly falling away. It felt familiarly like when he had to call Sokka the night this all started. Telling his mother would make this real. For now he could almost pretend it was a dream or a game like the ones he and his siblings used to play. But it wasn’t. And they didn’t have time for him to dottle like this.

Tenzin didn’t spend that much time in this room. It was smaller than the bedroom his parents shared on Air Temple Island. That room was bright with soft oranges and pale blues. The bed felt gigantic, with a big fluffy blanket and down pillows. He spent countless mornings snuggled in the center of it, his parents and siblings on either side. That room was light. It was the feeling of utter calm that could only exist resting with his family in the odd hours before the world needed them. This room was nice too, though the bed was smaller. The art on the walls was still both Air Nomad and Water Tribe, though the amount of pillows on the bed told you which of his parents was still hanging onto their nomadic tendencies of only having what you need, and who wanted more pillows on the bed. There was one desk, one chair and a schedule posted of her classes. It was a room that was distinctly his mothers.

Tenzin took a breath, and crept inside. His mother stirred almost instantly. She was one of the only people that heard him when he walked, no matter what. 

“Tez?” Katara asked, squinting up at him as he took a careful seat at the end of the bed. He forced himself to meet her eyes. This wasn’t supposed to be the hard part.

“Hi mama.” Tenzin started. He was speaking in his mother’s language, the Southern Water Tribe dialect. Things felt easier to say in her tongue, sometimes. They became clearer to him. More honest.

“Hi honey.” Katara said, her voice cracking slightly in the early morning. She sat up and collected his hands into hers. She gave him a knowing look. For a moment, Tenzin was sure she already knew.“What happened?”

“Bumi got a telegram from Commander Rho.” He explained, staring into both of their hands. He had no desire to watch whatever her face would have to harden into.

Katara was silent for a moment. She knew the code, everyone who needed to did.

“Okay.” She said, after a while. “We need to get Korra.”

“Bumi’s already bringing her.” 

“Oh, of course he is.” Katara said, clicking her tongue. For a second her voice was thick with emotion, but she quickly shook it out, clearing her throat. “Alright. I need you to go to your grandpa’s house and bring them all over.  I’ll wake the others and put on some tea.”

Tenzin nodded, but neither of them moved. Katara slept with the curtains open, meaning that the sunlight Was starting to stream into her room. The sun was just beginning to stretch over the horizon, its rays  crossing the sky in deep oranges and yellows. Tenzin studied them for a moment, hoping they would make him feel better or different or anything else at all. Nothing came.

He took a breath, and met his mother’s eyes. They were like his sister’s, steadfast in a way he never seemed to garner.

“Are you…” Tenzin sighed, pinching his eyebrows together as he searched for the right words. Katara waited. “Are you ready for all of this? All over again?”

Katara chewed on the inside of her cheek. She glanced out the window too. Tenzin watched as her eyes changed, as she found something in it.

“No.” Katara answered, honestly, turning back to him. “But I wasn’t the first time either and we got through it.” She shook his hands in hers. “This is what we do.”

Kya

There was something special about the early morning. As a water bender, Kya wasn’t supposed to love the hours when the moon started to slip away and the sun peeked up its head. But she wasn’t just a water bender, she was an Air Nomad. Aang was very steadfast in that, even before she was born. He believed that just as not every member of the Water Tribe could control their element, the same could and should be said for his people. She was an Air Nomad too.

Kya’s childhood was peppered with memories of the rising sun. Of dew collecting on the wooden rails of the pagoda on Air Temple Island. Of incense wafting up around her father as he settled on his mat. Every child was invited to meditate with him, though Lin took him up on the offer the most after Tenzin. Kya went a lot too, though now she wished more than anything that she’d gone more.

This wakeup call was not one of those sessions, it was far from it, but there was something auspicious about it all the same. That couldn’t be shaken from these early hours, not for her. They belonged to her father. They were sacred to him, and so that they would remain. It felt like a good sign to start now, though Kya wouldn’t say it aloud. If they started during his time of day, they were sure to be on the right course.

Still, this was not how Kya thought today would go. She was supposed to help out at her mother’s school today. Maybe practice a new healing technique. Help her mom out with dinner. Read to Iroh for a bit in the evening. That was the day.

She knew this would be a day, eventually. This sort of thing happened to the Avatar. It happened more than people thought, more than the world would ever know. If people really knew how often the Avatar’s life was seriously threatened, they would freak out- or at least that’s how her uncle described it. Regardless, she knew this would happen. Just not now. Maybe it was foolish, but she assumed they’d have more time.

But no. This morning she and Lin were awoken at six and told that a meeting would be taking place at six fifteen. That only meant one thing, at least it did now.

Kya was put in charge of tea. She didn’t take it personally, she wasn’t a Lieutenant or the Chief of Police or a war hero. Instead she tended to the fire, she gathered cups on trays and brought them out to their new guests, placing each in their hands with a tender squeeze. This wasn’t how anyone wanted to start the day.

Sokka, Suki, Toph, Su, Zuko, Izumi, Kaito and Iroh had all arrived. They were still waiting for Bumi to return with the Avatar, the weight of their absence growing heavier with every passing second.

Kya put the last four cups - one for her brother, Senna, Tonraq and Korra if that was her thing, in the center and took a seat by Izumi. She had her cup in one hand, the other rubbing circles in her son’s back. He was spread out on the floor, his head in her lap. Katara offered to put him down in her room, but she wasn’t eager to part with him until the threat level was discussed. While they were all still waiting, the princess took to looking at a collection pictures that were set up in the corner of the sitting room. There was a small painting of his grandmother, a painting of Yue, a photo of Anik, a boy Katara and Sokka had grown up with who passed in the war, and in the center, his crooked smile beaming up at them, was a photo of his father. It was taken when he was forty, before his body began to betray him and everything went wrong. He was at a festival, wearing his robes and his beard neatly groomed. There was always a stick of incense wafting or a lit candle beside him. 

For others, the picture could be haunting in a time like this. A reminder of how painfully mortal an Avatar can be. But for Kya it was the opposite, it only strengthened what she knew. Her dad was here. They would figure this out.

While they waited, her family started to assemble the plan.Watching them work was almost spiritual. They wove through each other in a way that was only crafted with time. Sokka brought an attention to detail that was otherworldly, her mother held the big picture like a lighthouse in a storm. Suki had an unparalleled strategic eye, Zuko was contrarian when it was needed, and Toph kept them all grounded. in added when she could, seeing things the others couldn’t. Izumi asked questions when it was helpful and Tenzin came with the original plans memorized. They were working off of a plan they’d made decades ago, one that had to be tailored and changed, but could work all the same.

Bumi came back forty-five minutes passed six with a throughly freaked out family in tow. Tonraq looked like he’d aged five years and Senna had a sort of death-grip on her daughter in her arms. Kya felt a twinge of guilt as she saw them, remembering the ill will she’d wanted to send their way. It was hard to remember sometimes that they’d never done this before. They didn’t know what it meant to be related to an Avatar. Now they would. This was their first time. It had been her entire life.

“We took the long way, on the perimeter.” Bumi said, breaking the silence as he took off his coat. She watched his eyes dart around the room, doing a headcount. “We weren’t spotted.”

“Senna, Tonraq, good morning.”  Katara said, bringing them both into a firm hug. She put a tender hand on Senna’s back. “Is she asleep?”

“Yes.” Senna blinked. You could still hear the crackle of the morning in her voice, a reminder of the hour. “Yeah, she’s still out.”

“Okay.” Katara nodded, turning back to the crowd.  “Can we make some room, please?”

“Yep.” Kya stood, a blanket already in hand. She’d planned for this. This was her job today. “You can sit here.” She motioned to her spot, next to Izumi and her sleeping son. It was enough space for the family, that didn’t seem eager to separate. Reluctantly, they settled into their spot at the fire. On one side of them was the heir to the Fire Nation, and on the other, was Tenzin. What a lineup.

Kya settled two seats down, between Bumi and Lin, watching as they made a face to one another that she couldn’t quite decipher. They’d lived in such different worlds her entire life it was hard to remember now that they sat in the same one.

“So,” Senna started, clearing her throat. She was so far from the carefree woman they’d met a week ago. This person was shaky, brows knitted together. “Bumi explained a bit but I just… I’ve never- we’ve never- what’s going on?”

Kya watched as the room paused, deciding who would bear the weight of explaining to this little family just how close they are to total precarity. At last, Sokka sat up a little straighter. He’d been in charge of contingency plans since the end of the war. He knew how to do this.

“We believe that there is a plot to seize the Avatar.” Sokka said. He spoke in an even tone, one of someone who’d prepared for this. Kya noted that he said Avatar and not Korra. It was a kindness, a feigned separation for them. It wouldn’t change anything, they all knew that. 

“As we discussed, this was always a possibility, something that would happen at some point. Like everything we’ve seen from Korra, it seems this is a little earlier than anticipated. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t ready.”

Zuko, Suki, Toph and Katara, who sat on either side of him, nodded in agreement. They were all painted with a learned understanding, a grit and groundedness their new friends lacked.

Tonraq held Bumi’s note, cradling it in his hands gently as he read and reread it.

“Who sent this to you again?” He asked. His voice was sharp, though it was sanded with fear.

“I’m not allowed to know.” Bumi said, once again. He’d already explained this. He ran a tired hand through his hair. He was still wearing pajamas, he hadn’t had time to change. “That’s the point of this kind of thing.”

“But you can confirm it’s valid?” Senna asked. Korra had settled in her lap, still sleeping, miraculously.

“I made the code.”  Bumi continued, speaking across the fire. “As soon as we heard about the Avatar I put out some feelers with my contacts across the different networks. If anyone heard anything they had to send me this.”

“And we can make a real plan of attack from this?” Tonraq asked. He had his wife’s hand in his, holding it like it was all that tethered him to this plane. “It’s not much.”

Sokka made a face, somewhere between a twisted excitement and slight offense. Kya couldn’t hide her small grin. They had no idea. Her family could make a plan from the whisper in the wind. From a dream. From a prayer.

“We have a plan.” Katara said, confidently. Her voice steadied the room, the only other sounds coming from the crackling fire. “The good news is that we have the upper hand, we know that something is coming. That isn’t always the case. We planned for this as a possibility and all of us are prepared to do what’s necessary.”

Sokka cleared his throat, gathering the pages they’d written and handing them to the couple.

“The original plan we are basing this off of was drafted by Katara, Zuko, Suki, Toph, Aang and myself.” He explained.

“Avatar Aang made this plan?” Senna asked, her eyes widened. She held the pages with a newfound reverence.

“He had a lot of experience with this sort of thing.” Suki added. “He wanted us to be prepared.” Her face was pinched, just slightly, at the mention of him. It always did, and always would. She had spent her life worshipping one Avatar and had befriended another. She didn’t find it fair.

“I’ll be going back to Republic City to ensure security to other World Leaders and learn what I can about the plot.” Toph continued. At the mention of Aang, Toph pulled Su, who was seated beside her, a little closer. “If we’re lucky, we may be able to catch this before it comes.”

Senna and Tonraq both listened intently. Senna was brushing the hair from Korra’s face almost rhythmically.

“The rest of you will break into two teams, each prepared to act like they may have the Avatar.” Toph continued, speaking in what Sokka called her chief voice. “With decoy teams, this means that even if they know where we are they won’t be able to predict where she is and hopefully we’ll be able to break them up.”

“We know that it’s a lot, but we’ve run through each possibility and this is our best chance.” Zuko continued, passing his mug between his hands. “We’re confident.”

The room was quiet as they waited for them to take it all in. This was a new dynamic. Before, these sorts of things would be settled amongst each other. But they weren’t the Avatar’s family anymore. She was someone else’s. They got to decide. Or at least, they got to think they did.

The fire popped and crackled between the Avatar’s parents, and her family. 

“Tonraq, you seem like you have something to say.” Toph said, after a moment. His face was lined with something akin to frustration, and from her clear assessment of his heartbeat, she wasn’t having it. Her voice was still gentle, forgiving almost, but held a warning.

Kya’s eyes narrowed, trying to discern his face in the new morning light. She knew this kind of man. He’d fought hard for what he had. He was in line to be chief. He thought himself to be strong. But Kya was a healer. She’d watched these kinds of men at the bedside of their children before. None of it prepares them. None of it is enough. In most cases it’s worse. They cannot save them from this. That was what she heard in his voice. He was still trying to find a way to save her. He didn’t know he couldn’t yet. Maybe this time, but not all of it. He could not save her from being the Avatar.

“I am grateful to you all for helping my family, for helping Korra.” He started, slowly. The air began to shift in the room. Bumi straightened beside her. Kya clenched and unclenched her jaw. “But.. I don’t feel comfortable with someone who’s taken a vow not to kill protecting my daughter.”

Kya blinked. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t even thought about that. One by one, everyone’s eyes shifted to Tenzin. He was seated next to Tonraq, who had yet to meet his eyes.

Because he's a coward. Kya thought.

“You can just say his name.” She said, instead.  “I don’t know why you had to dress it all up like that.”

Tenzin didn’t like mornings. He was like their mother in that way. She could see it in him now, in the way his body slouched over his criss-crossed legs. He was feeling heavy, more tethered to this earth than he normally was. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this.

“Tenzin is one of the best fighters I’ve ever known.” Bumi continued, mirroring her fierceness. Both of them had leaned forward, almost daring him to say something more. “Korra would be lucky.”

“I understand that,” Tonraq started, patiently. He still wasn’t looking at their brother. “But he’s still-”

“I’m not going to be protecting Korra.” Tenzin said, interrupting him. He turned to face him, his ancient grey eyes steely with conviction. “I’ll be in a separate safe house.”

Kya watched as Sokka clenched and unclenched his jaw. She could practically hear the gears from their side of the room turning, trying to find a way through this conversation that ended better than this. They couldn’t.

“But for the record, I haven’t taken the vow.” Tenzin added, turning to the fire. He took a breath, longer and lower than any other  living person could. “I am perfectly capable and comfortable with doing what is necessary.”

“Wait, I don’t understand. If he says he fight, shouldn’t he be protecting her?” Senna pipped up, breaking the stilted silence. “He can literally take air out of a room!”

“I hear you, I really do,” Sokka cleared his throat, speaking gently. “But that’s not the protocol.”

“But if we’re saying he can fight, shouldn’t he be there?” Senna asked again. “Aren’t we past the protocol at this point?”

Kya cringed. Beside her, Bumi folded one leg up to his chest and Lin stared at the fire. The elephant in the room had grown three sizes, and Tonraq and Senna were quickly loosing any empathy points they’d gained since walking in this morning. The answer was so obvious, almost painfully so. It was the answer that had shadowed their childhood. The reason each of them carried something lost within their frame. They were the children of a lost place. They lived in a haunted house they could not leave.

“As you know,” Tenzin started, calmly. The lilt in his voice was almost snide. . “I am the last air bender. It’s just me.” He sighed, motioning across the circle to his family. “They’re trying to say it nicely, but that’s it. They can’t afford to loose us both.”

Against her better judgement, Kya stole a glance at their mother. She couldn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t watch a mother listen to her child so pragmatically discuss their own worth and their own death, but she could look at her hands. They were clasped around Suki’s, holding them tight.

“Then… are we splitting our resources?” Tonraq asked, a familiar pain practically drowning his words.

Kya chewed on the inside of her cheek. She wanted him to stop talking. She wanted them all to stop talking. She wanted to scream. She felt like a child again, sitting beside him while adults talked about her baby brother like he was a prop or a doll. She could still remember the meeting about whether he’d go to school or stay home and focus on bending. Her parents would’ve never let it happen, but it was still a conversation. It was maybe the first time she realized that he was not theirs, nor would he ever be. She’d felt helpless then.

She felt that way now. She watched as he closed in, made himself smaller with doubt and self-loathing. He hated this. He hated mornings. Kya could picture it, him in that nondescript house with some random White Lotus security detail. He would be all alone. He would be all alone. Again.

“I’ll stay with Tenzin,” Kya said.

The room stilled. Around her, eyes went wide and shoulders stiffened, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was looking at her brother.

“That way you can switch whoever was going to stay with him to Korra.” She continued, breaking away to look at Tonraq and Senna. “I’m actually the one that took the vow of nonviolence to honor my people, so you wouldn’t want me in a team anyways.” She shrugged.

Tenzin looked lighter now than he did before. He fidgeted with one of his bracelets, the beads clattering together as he made cautious eye contact.

“Are you sure?” He asked. His voice was smaller than before.

Kya nodded. She would become sure. She was here. They would figure this out.

“Yep.” Kya said, swallowing back any creeping doubt. She turned to her mother, feigning a calm. “Put me in, coach.”

Katara’s face moved into something unreadable, something calculated, before she softened. It would be her silent blessing, her silent forgiveness. Kya wasn’t supposed to fight. That was her gift to her mother, as it always had been. She wouldn’t have to worry about Kya. But Kya was a sister to just as many people she was a daughter.

“Okay.” Sokka started, refocusing the room for the umpteenth time. “If we’re all alright with this, I will continue.”

Tonraq and Senna looked at one another, before turning back to the group. Kya could’ve cared less what they decided. She was going with her brother. She couldn’t leave him in that house.

“We are.” Senna said, taking a shallow breath.

Sokka nodded, making a final note to his pages.

“I am going to say this once and only once.” He began again. Kya sat up straight, ignoring the new pounding in her chest. “Zuko, Katara, Suki, Senna and myself will be with Korra. Tonraq and Bumi will be our decoy team and Kya and Tenzin will be in a safe house. If you are attacked, send up a flare. The White Lotus will be patrolling the city, and one of their scouts will see you and intervene. We can’t afford to alert anyone else to our presence otherwise. Do we understand.”

One by one, they affirmed.

“Alright.” Sokka said. “Let’s do this.”

Without another word, he tossed the pages into the fire.

Chapter Text

Bumi

Bumi was buzzing. He always got like this the night before a mission, no matter what. His first commander said it was the battle calling him, that in the old days he’d be seen as an omen. He was pretty sure it was just a combination of anxiety and adrenaline, but he’d take it. His mother’s house had become a base of sorts, with many people coming and going as they prepared to leave. They’d go tonight to their respective safe houses- the real house with the Avatar, the decoy, and Tenzin’s. Until the sun set, there was little to do but wait.

Bumi spent most of his time entertaining the kids. Korra and Iroh. It should’ve freaked him out more, the living, breathing reminder of what they had to loose, but in actuality it was grounding. She was who they were doing this for. It made the other stuff, feel easy. He still wasn’t Tonraq’s biggest fan, but he couldn’t hold Korra to that.

Around noon, after Sokka’s trip to the weapons shed in Hakoda’s backyard and another round of finishing touches on the plan was about to commence, Bumi was sent to find his mother’s maps of the area.

He should’ve known that someone was in there. He hadn’t seen Izumi or Kaito in around an hour, if he really thought about it. He hadn’t exactly been avoiding them, but he wasn’t exceptionally keen on spending time was a trio.

He really should’ve known to knock. But again, he was buzzing. The battle was calling him. His brain already felt bright and loud and tunneled. He didn’t think to.

As soon as he opened the door, he realized his mistake. Izumi and Kaito were standing by the window, speaking in harsh whispers to one another. Izumi’s face was twisted in a way he hadn’t seen before, and Kaito had his familiar scowl splattered across his face.

Bumi stood in the doorway, frozen.

“Oh fuck. I mean-Sorry.” Bumi cringed, rambling. His mind was completely blank. “I was- I was looking for something for my mom but I’ll just come back.”

“Thank you,” Kaito said, taking a steady breath. “that would be-”

“No. This is his house, he can be wherever he wants.” Izumi interrupted. Kaito finally met her eyes, slightly annoyed. Her face was flushed.

They’d been fighting.

Bumi looked between them, debating in his head what made the most sense. He really should’ve just left. He should’ve turned around and pretended not to notice anything. But he couldn’t do that. His dumb mouth.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Bumi offered, taking a careful step further into his mother’s room. “We have some of the best security details available for Iroh. And if it makes you more comfortable I can even switch. They’ll have enough power at the decoy house now that Lin is staying too.”

Izumi’s frown melted, momentarily. Kaito only seemed more annoyed. Okay. One out of two.

“That’s- thank you.” Izumi blinked, pushing her glasses back up her nose. Her ears burned pink. “Thank you but that’s not-”

“Izumi, Iroh and I are going back to the Fire Nation.” Kaito interrupted. His arms were crossed over his chest, his shoulders broad. He wanted to feel big. He wanted to remind Bumi of his rank. Cool.

“No, we’re not.” Izumi countered, her shoulders sneaking up back to her ears. “We’re talking about it.”

“I’m um…” Bumi thought for a moment, garnering his strength to push through the air of tension ahead. “I’m just going to grab what I need and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“We are trying to have a conversation.” Kaito continued, forcing patience. “Perhaps you could look once we’ve finished?”

“Take your time.” Izumi said, ignoring her fiance. “This can wait.”

Bumi nodded, staring at the floor as he practically ran to his mother’s desk. Quickly, he peeled through each of the cabinets until he found the scroll he was looking for. Izumi and Kaito stood in a stilted silence on opposite sides of the room. His heart thumped against his ribs as he rifled through the pages, ignoring any mess that he made. He’d pick it up later. This was one version of his own personal nightmares.

“Thank Tui.” Bumi muttered, in his mother’s language, as he found his prize. He straightened, ready to leave and never come back, maybe ever. If there was one thing he really, really didn’t want to do, it was get involved with these two. He and Kaito had a real work relationship, and it felt like he was so close to having Izumi back again. He couldn’t risk that.

But he’d never seen her like this. Izumi wasn’t snappy, she wasn’t snide. If she was mad, she’d say it. If she was angry, she’d make it known. She didn’t swallow her upset or her grief or any of it. 

Bumi paused at the door, turning back to them. This was a bad idea. He didn’t care.

“I um… I am sorry for interrupting, but Kaito, I just want you to know that we are really, really good at this.” Bumi said, honestly. He gripped the scrolls a little tighter, his heart still thumping loud. “I just mean, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know you know our chances, I’m sure you’ve assessed this, but…” His eyes flitted to Izumi. “People have tried to hurt us since we were kids, and our parents before that. We’re still here. This isn’t like our missions. This is different. It works because we’re together.” He took a breath, his shoulders sagging. “Okay. That’s all.”

Neither of them spoke, but Izumi nodded a slient thank you. Bumi left quickly, closing the door softly as he went.

As he walked back down the hall, he could still hear them, picking up where he’d found them.

“Did you really have to be that rude to him? He’s not under your command right now. We’re guests here.”

“We’re having a conversation.”

“Are we? It seems like you’ve made up your mind.”

“It doesn’t make sense, Izumi.”

Bumi tried to shake the interaction from his brain, to forget about it and pour all of his energy into the mission, but it lingered. He was never good at compartmentalizing. His brother could do it easily, tuck everything into the place that it needed to go. Bumi never understood how. He was like his father in that way. He felt everything, all of the time.

About an hour after Bumi found the scrolls, Izumi and Kaito emerged from the room, feigning normalcy. He was back sitting with Korra and Iroh. He’d poured them bowls of his mother’s soup, and was monitoring mealtime as they talked through the different forms they’d learned. Both seemed fairly content, despite the circumstances. Korra liked to learn, and Iroh liked having a captive audience. Izumi gave her son a quick kiss on the cheek, said something about forgetting gear at their official residence, and made a bee-line for the door. Everyone seemed to buy it, or at least had bigger fish to try to let it be.

Bumi studied Kaito as slowly made his way over to them. His face was awash with exhaustion and frustration. No resolution had been made, that much was clear. Bumi wasn’t going to bring it back up, it wasn’t his business. Kaito sat beside his son, brushing the hair from his face, gently.

“Would you like some soup, Kaito?” Bumi asked, clearing his throat. There was enough going on in the room that no one else had noticed his awkwardness or his melancholy.

Kaito stared at him for a moment, pensive with a look Bumi couldn’t discern.

“Did you ask her to stay?” He asked, suddenly. Bumi blinked.

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

Before Bumi could ask further, Korra spilled half of her bowl. By the time he cleaned it up, Kaito was gone, but the question remained.

Izumi

One of Izumi’s earliest memories was something like this. They weren’t in the South, they were in the Earth Kingdom, but it felt the same. It always feels the same. They had all gathered for a festival. Something went wrong, as it does. Someone wanted to hurt her family, as they do. The rest was hazy, only flashes and feelings as the days blurred together, but the parts she remembered had one common thread. Her family was there. Everyone came together to figure it out. 

That time, she was taken to a safe house. It was a small building in a tiny village the outside of Ba Sing Se. Her father stayed in the city with most of their crew. She didn’t remember their goodbye, but he did. Every time they were in Ba Sing Se together, her father would get this look. She couldn’t read it before Iroh, but now she could.

Her mother went with her, then, along with Toph. They kept the team small to attract less attention. There was some debate, she remembered vaguely, about Katara coming with them. Now, she knows that it was because she was pregnant but the world didn’t know yet. Ultimately, she decided stay too, fearing that leaving with the children would attract more attention. Izumi didn’t think about that part before Iroh either. Now it carried new weight.

That time, it was just Toph, Mai, Izumi, Bumi and Kya. Toph and Mai guarding the door, the children in the back room. It was the three of them, Bumi by her side and Kya in his lap in a dark room. They were supposed to be quiet, but as they were soon learning, Bumi had a hard time following rules. Izumi remembered being pretty freaked out, and the moment they turned off the lights Kya started fussing. She didn’t know how to make it stop, she was going to panic, but just before they could reach the tipping point, Bumi declared he was telling a story. He was four and she was three, a time when the year apart still mattered. He pressed Kya to his chest, breathing with her as she settled. He told them about a palace made of ice, a fish, and a princess who turned into the moon. Izumi fell asleep that night to Yue’s story, certain that her light would protect them.

The next morning, things had blown over. The great evil had been banished, at least for now. Her father had been injured, not badly, but it kept him and Katara in the city and left Aang to retrieve them. And it was probably her imagination, coloring her memories as time passed, but the way she remembers it he picked all three of them up in his arms. Whether that part was real didn’t matter. What mattered is that he was there, and she was safe. Aang meant that things were safe. Always.

That night kept crossing Izumi’s mind. There had been countless times since then, closer calls and higher stakes, but for whatever reason that time kept coming up all morning. It was so prevalent, Izumi found herself stealing glances to Aang’s memorial table, hoping the picture would tell her what it was supposed to mean, if anything at all. What did he want for her? Why now? What was she supposed to do?

Izumi did what she had been trained to do, she fell in line. She offered support when she could, putting the hours of training to use. They had a plan in place for Iroh, as they always did, and though they hadn’t discussed it, she assumed Kaito would stay with him.

For a commander, Kaito seemed possibly the most out of his element. He was quiet through the meeting, focused on their boy who slept across both of their laps. After a while, it became almost concerning. He came from a fairly traditional Fire Nation family. He went to good schools with strict rules and a clear trajectory. He wasn’t supposed to speak out of turn. His silence meant he disagreed- although with what she couldn’t be sure.

It wasn’t until after lunch that Izumi would finally learn what was stopping him. He wanted them to leave, to flee and let everyone else figure this out. He couldn’t fathom why every member of the Fire Lord’s line should be in such danger. Izumi didn’t realize that was something she had to explain.

Kaito and Izumi worked well. They looked good on paper. They shared many things, big and small. They loved to read, they loved the theatre, they both had a passion for politics. Kaito was brilliant and responsible and driven. He was a strong person, and he saw her strength too. He understood her. Part of their agreement, their understanding, their love, was that they asked for little of each other. She didn’t ask him not to go on his missions, and he didn’t judge any choices she made with Iroh in his absence. Until now, she thought that it went both ways.

When Izumi returned from the Fire Lord’s residence, calmer and clearer than when she’d left, Kaito was waiting outside for her. She frowned. He looked so young right now. She didn’t often think that about him, but right now she felt it. He looked tired, too. And a little lost. For a moment, she wanted to brush past him, leave him in the cold. She didn’t.

Kaito reached for her gloved hand. She let him take it in hers.

“Can we please try again? Talk about this?” Kaito asked, softly.

“I agree that Iroh should leave with you.” She started, choosing her words carefully. It felt easier to breathe out here, in the snow and the silence. She met his eyes with a newfound forgiveness. “But I need to stay.”

“Izumi, the Avatar is not its own nation anymore, it does not require the same support as before.” Kaito sighed, repeating what he’d said inside. “This was your life, Izumi, Avatar was apart of it in a big way. And yes, this Avatar will be apart of our lives one day but there’s no reason to raise the stakes right now. I want you to leave with us.”

Izumi chewed on the inside of her cheek. Their relationship was built on respect. On trust. On a shared understanding of what they needed to be for the world to continue. Only now, it was becoming clear, they had very different visions for that. Her story, in a way that was both universal and singular, began with the Avatar. His did not.

“One day, our son will be the Fire Lord.”

Kaito seemed perplexed, but he let her continue. She took a breath, speaking from a truth she hadn’t said until now. In so many ways she felt like she’d known Kaito all her life, yet right now it felt like they were meeting for the first time. She thought about Yue. About the safe house. About Bumi and Kya and Toph. About Aang and the feeling of being carried in his arms.

“One day, during his reign, something bad will happen. Something so bad, he’ll need help from the Avatar.” She continued, standing taller. “And when that happens, I hope and pray that she helps him. That she protects our baby.”

“But if we don’t help her now, if we don’t save her now,” Izumi felt a small, familiar ache creep up into her voice. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to find the next one in time. And when the bad thing happens, he’ll be all alone.” She took a breath, closing her eyes. “This isn’t me raising the stakes, these are the stakes. The world cannot afford to exist without an Avatar. Not again.”

Kaito was quiet for a moment. Around them, snowflakes fell from the bright cloudy sky. They’d have to go in soon. They’d have to reach an agreement out here.

“I understand that. I do.” He said, quietly, staring at the horizon line. “I risk my life every day because I believe in the United Republic. I believe that it is a good thing, the right way forward after all of the pain our nation caused. I do that because I believe in protecting those ideals and the people making them real. It is a job.”

Kaito turned back to her, his amber eyes burning.

“What you’re doing… what you’re wanting to do… it’s too emotionally charged. I want to trust you but I just… I’m just terrified of what could happen.” He cleared his throat, squeezing her hand in his. “I know bad people, I hunt bad people. These people are trying to kill a child. They won’t blink.”

“That’s all the more reason I need to stay.” Izumi urged. Kaito made a face she couldn’t discern.

“Can I speak candidly?” He asked, firmly. Izumi nodded, cautiously. Kaito took a breath. “You’ve talked about how the world cannot afford to loose the Avatar. And I agree. But… they can’t loose the Fire Lord either.”

“It’s very unlikely that my dad would-”

“Your father cannot rule if something happens to you.” Kaito said, interrupting her. His words cut through the air like arrows from the Yuyan Archers, shocking and unpredictable. Izumi blinked. He’d thought a lot about this. Kaito shook his head. “If you are in the field, he will be conflicted in his mission, and you will both be in danger. There is a reason family members aren’t allowed on the same force in the UF.” He closed his eyes.“Aang’s death nearly destroyed him. He would not be able to move on if you got hurt on his watch, or Agni forbid, if he lost you. Look at me and tell me that’s not true.”

Izumi was silent. He’d been there, when Aang died. He saw what it did to her father, just as she had. He was a practical person. Pragmatic. He knew what they needed to be for the world to continue. She couldn’t refute this.

Kaito gathered her hands and pressed them to his chest.

“I am begging you, Izumi.” He pleaded. “If you trust them as you say you do, know that they will protect her.”

Izumi felt her heart sink. Through the door, she heard the murmurs of her family, of the people that had held her and protected her with everything they had. She turned back to Kaito. She would loose something if she left, she would loose something if she stayed.

They’d done this without her for a long time now. They could do it again.

“If anything changes we’ll come back.” Izumi said. She stared at her hands, a feeling of shame creeping into her chest.

“Of course.” Kaito sighed. The relief in his voice was palpable.

She wished she felt the same.

Tenzin

The sun was setting. They’d leave for their posts as soon as it fell below the horizon line. It was finally time. The house was electric, budding with a twisted sort of anticipation as everyone suited up and began to say their goodbyes. Tenzin was dressed in Water Tribe blues with a cap over his arrow. If they were looking for him, it wouldn’t do much, but having him in oranges felt too foolish. It was protocol, his father’s protocol. He’d follow it.

Tenzin wound his way through his mother’s house, checking and re-checking off every last step on their plan in his mind. For this next part, he’d need his sister. Why she vouched to stay, he didn’t understand, but he didn’t have time to mull or parse through it right now.

“Kya!” Tenzin called, knocking and opening her bedroom door. “Sokka wants to brief us and-”

Inside, sitting beside his sister, was Lin.

“Hey.” She smiled. The earth bender was putting the straps on her special shoes, the ones that let her bend and unbend the soles off. Next to her, Kya was tying water pouches to her hip.

“I thought you were going back to Republic City.” Tenzin said, before thinking. He prided himself on looking before he leaped, but tonight, he gave himself a pass.

“I was.” Lin started, standing up and shaking out both feet. “But I figured you guys could use some help.” She shrugged. “Sokka’s got me on the decoy team.”

Tenzin blinked.

“Really?” He asked. His voice sounded smaller than he wanted it to. This shouldn’t be the kind of thing to shake him, to touch him in the way it was now. But it was.

“Yeah.” Lin sighed, brushing a loose hair from her face. “I… I couldn’t just leave, you know?” She muttered. He nodded. “And I know how to do this stuff, and your brother and Tonraq clearly need a buffer.”

“You’re telling me.” Kya laughed. For a moment, Tenzin had forgotten she was there. Normally, with stuff like this, she would have inserted herself by now, but she’d been quiet. Her face was lined with an ease he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Thanks, Lin.” Tenzin said, finding his voice. They were about an arms-length away. He wanted to close the gap. He wanted to hug her. But that wouldn’t be fair.

“It wasn’t for you.” Lin corrected, though there was no malice, no bite to it.

“I know.” Tenzin said. His voice was thick as he spoke, his eyes threatening to mist.

He did. It wasn’t. It was for the Avatar. It was because that’s who Lin was. And that wasn’t the point, that wasn’t why this moved him. In the years since his father’s death, he’d been so lonely. He’d been alone, certain that that’s how he had to be. But today he’d been anything but. Today they showed up. And not just his mother and the people who rallied around his father, but his people too. Kya was here. Bumi was here. Lin was here. They were still here. They could hold it together, just for today.

“Okay, party room!” Another voice spoke from the doorway, breaking Tenzin’s spell.

Bumi grinned, leaning against the doorframe.

“Are we all ready?” He asked, clasping a firm hand on Tenzin’s shoulder. “How are we feeling?” He asked, earnestly.

“Oh I’m peachy.” Kya smiled, jumping from the bed.

“Just overjoyed.” Lin smirked.

“We’re ready.” Tenzin nodded. Momentarily, Bumi met his eyes with a nervous stare, but he quickly dashed it away.

“Great.” Bumi nodded, clearing his throat. “Okay, well, Lin and I have to go to an undisclosed location now.”

Lin straightened, pulling a pack over her shoulder.

“Us too.” Kya nodded, making her way to the doorway.

They were supposed to go, supposed to head out the door and into the unknown, but for a moment they all lingered. They hadn’t lingered like this in a long time. Tenzin looked around, their faces each lined with a feigned confidence. Another family, another group, might be more nervous. They might be more realistic. But this wasn’t what they were to each other. This isn’t what they did. In every other blink, Tenzin felt like he was ten years old again, holed up in a safe house with this group while they waited for their parents to save the world. It was their turn now.

Bumi reach his arms around them, pulling all three into a group hug.

“I love you guys.” He muttered, resting his head against Kya’s. “I’ll see you after this blows over, okay? Drinks on me.”

“Love you too, Boom.” Kya muttered, giving him a squeeze as they let go.

“Bye Bumi.” Tenzin nodded, giving his brother a small smile. "Love you." 

He turned to Lin. He wanted to tell her how much this meant, not because it was for him, but because it wasn’t. Because she was who she was. Because her very presence here made him feel calmer. Safer. Because he’d be a better fighter today knowing she was out there. But that would be for him.

Instead, he reached out a hand. Tentatively, she put hers in his, and they shook hands in the traditional way of the United Republic.

“Don’t die.” Tenzin said, squeezing her calloused finders. Lin smirked.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Chapter Text

Sokka

They waited until the sun had set and the moon was high in the sky. One by one, each group left, going different directions to their respective safe houses. Kya and Tenzin were going North, up into the mountains into a reliable little home they’d used before. Bumi, Lin and Tonraq went West, hunkering down in the decoy house. To a trained eye, it would be the perfect spot. It was out of town by the coast, meaning any water benders had the advantage. It was fortified, decked out with all the new traps and toys. It’s where you’d go.

Sokka, Suki, Zuko, Katara, Senna and Korra went South. They moved last and walked slow. Korra was given medicine to help her sleep and placed in a basket on Katara’s back. They each had other, identical packs just in case. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best option. Their house was the furthest away, in the tundra. It was flat, you could see in every direction for miles. It looked to be a one story house, but there was a hidden bunker installed.

Sokka had done this before. This sort of thing happened in clusters. There was a pattern to it, to the pain and the attempt at power. He’d studied this kind of thing enough to find it. You couldn’t prevent it. You can’t prevent scared people from doing dangerous things. But you can prepare. Aang understood that.

The first time he did this without Aang was harder than he expected. He’d predicted it. Every cluster for assassination attempts has an inciting event. Normally it’s a regime change or the birth of an heir. The Avatar dying… that shook up the world. No one tried anything on Bumi and Kya. No one looked far enough ahead to think about their children and their possible gifts. Everyone looked at Tenzin, though.

There were two attempts on his life in the first three months. The first was impulsive. Tenzin took them down himself. The second they caught early, put Tenzin in a safe house and waited it out. Sokka was with him, so was Toph. They didn’t talk much. He seemed relatively unfazed, or at least he was trying to be. When it ended and the threat had been captured, Tenzin left quickly and caught the end of that night’s Republic City council meeting. Sokka went home and cried in his wife’s arms. They’d done it. They’d saved him. And he’d who’d become all he’d been told he would have to be.

This time was different too. This time felt lighter. The last time Sokka was so focused on Aang’s absence he couldn’t see what was in front of him. His people were here, still. And with them, he was there too. He had to be.

Though the circumstances were dire, Sokka felt hopeful as they arrived at the safe house. It was a nice building, lots of furs and a pot of water where Zuko could make them tea. This actually could be a nice weekend, or maybe not nice, but not terrible. That was sort of his bar. Not terrible. Really, it was the company that was making him see the light at the end of the tunnel. There wasn’t a group of people that Sokka felt safer with than his family. They’d do what they needed to, he’d seen it before. They would again, but for now it felt like they could take half a breath.

He could feel it in each of them, too. There was something sickly nostalgic in the air as they went into motion. They’d all felt it during the planning sessions, and again as they went through their protocol. They worked in tandem, moving without needing to speak, weaving around each other like the tide. Sokka locked eyes with Zuko for a moment as they passed in the hallway, shutting each of the windows and checked the doors, and he could tell with complete certainty he was thinking the same thing.

Look at us. All over again.

It hurt. It stung. It was unreconcilable that the person they learned these skills for wasn’t with them anymore, but it was a beautiful thing to use them for his successor. It felt like he’d planned it. Like he was looking down at them with that knowing crooked smile, just a little full of himself at arranging all of this.

Sokka made his way back to the main room. It was a nice living room. Normal looking enough. There was a fire pit, a kettle, and some sitting pillows. They’d all taken off their packs and moved them against the door. Katara, Senna and Suki were seated around the unlit fire. It was almost a normal scene. Katara had passed a sleeping Korra back to her mother and Suki was unpacking her fans. They both gave him a small smile.

Zuko came back in and moved a stack of blankets, revealing a small door underneath a mat that led to the secret second floor.

“Okay,” Sokka whispered, gaining their attention, “Senna, it’s time to go below.”

Senna gave him a panicked look. Her eyes were wide with exhaustion and fear. Sokka cringed. Right. Not every member of this little crew was living the same complicated flashback. Senna had no memories of safe houses, she had no context for their melancholic sighs and smiles. She was just here. Holding her child.

“Shouldn’t we all stay together?” Senna said, holding Korra’s tiny body tight on her chest. She looked around the room, hoping to garner support. Sokka made a face at Katara, who wore an empathetic frown.

There was a stilted hesitation for a fraction of a moment. They hadn’t quite anticipated this. Senna needed to trust them, or this would all fall apart. She probably still did, but she was scared. That was an issue. You can’t prevent scared people from doing dangerous things.

“Senna,” Katara whispered, gently. The water pouches on her hip clacked softly as she sat up on her knees. “Sokka and Suki will be on the first floor, Zuko and I will be on the second floor with you.”

“Why?” Senna asked, her voice getting slightly louder. Zuko winced, slightly, to Sokka’s left.

Sokka sighed, gingerly sitting down next to his wife at the unlit fire pit. They were all still in their coats, as they wouldn’t be able to light it. They’d remain in the dim light of the moon. He closed his eyes, trying to picture what it would be like if this was his first time doing this. If this was his kid and his new life and everything he’d known had been pulled out from under him. He thought about the scraggly kid they pulled out of an ice berg. About his sister and her tendency to leap into danger. About the year he spent flying across the globe with them, trying and failing to predict the perils that awaited him. 

“Because it’s protocol.” Suki said, as it became clear others didn’t want to be as firm. She was holding one of her smaller fans, shifting it between her hands. She was growing impatient. Even in the near-darkness, he could see Senna’s mouth form a thin line. She was unamused.

“Do better.” She said.

Sokka and Suki made eye contact, her request was clear, fix this.

“Because he’s the Fire Lord and she’s Master Katara.” Sokka said, shifting his pocket watch in his hands. “This how we do this.”

Senna’s eyes narrowed. Sokka turned back to his watch. They were loosing time. His response was blunt, but he didn’t want to lie. In situations like this, Sokka had to be practical.

“Believe me,” Zuko sighed, sitting beside him. “He won’t budge, I’ve tried.”

“If Zuko wants to stay, he has to play by my rules.” Sokka shrugged. It was true. The world could not afford to loose the Fire Lord. If he was going to protect the Avatar, he had to be protected too.

“There’s no version of this where they’re on the outside.” Suki insisted, snapping her fan back into it’s hold with a satisfying click.

“I can’t exactly go to the United Republic and explain that I lost two of its founders doing a security detail. Also I like them and I like them alive.” Sokka said, using Suki’s native language. He took his wife’s gloved hand in his. “Suki should also be in there but she won’t.”

Sokka skipped over, as he often did, the fact that he was also a founding member of the United Republic. Obviously, in a very real, practical way, the world could not afford to loose the Fire Lord. That was simple. That was easy to explain to Zuko. What was less simple, was that Sokka could not afford to loose him either. Or his sister. Sokka could not afford to loose Katara. There was not a world where she was on the outside if he could help it. Not when they were fifteen, not when they were forty-five. She knew his alterior motives, she had to, but she let it be. That was her small mercy to him.

Suki fell into that category too, but she saw through him and called him out on it.

“Hey, you married me,” Suki smirked, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “You knew what you were signing up for.”

“I still don’t-” Senna stammered, still unconvinced. “I just- I can’t-”

“Okay.” Suki started, putting a hand on Senna’s back. Being straightforward and being more casual both didn’t seem to be effective. “Senna, we are taking this incredibly seriously. We are following rules that have worked. This works.”

“Every time?” She asked, strained.

“Like eighty-six percent of the time.” Sokka muttered, honestly.

Senna’s eyes widened. In the moonlight, Sokka could see the whites of her eyes grow.

“Eighty-six?” She blanched.

“Sokka!” Suki hissed.

“Senna.”

Katara was suddenly in front of the young woman, both arms around her. In between them, her child slept soundly. Her voice, though low, quelled the room. They all waited in baited breath.

“Look at me. Not my brother.” She continued, in their native language. Katara clicked her tongue, disappointed. “Listen, I know. I know what you’re feeling. I have done this before. You have to trust me. You have to trust us.” She rubbed her shoulders, a small ache flooding into her voice. “This was my life, okay? This was my whole life. I know how to do this.”

Senna took a breath. She held her daughter close, and turned away.

“It’s not safe.” She muttered, quietly. Sokka and Zuko made eyes at each other. That was harder to refute.

“I know. I know and I’m sorry.” Katara continued, sitting back up on her heels. “But honey, my babies are out there. They are protecting her. If I thought for one moment that they couldn’t do this, that they could actually kill my children I would send them home.”

The room was quiet. Katara spoke with a definitiveness no one could refute. Though she would be remembered for her water bending talent, Sokka privately thought that his sister was one of the best speakers and politicians they’d ever seen. Her conviction was a weapon of its own, singular in its design.

Katara brushed a stray hair from Senna’s face, gently.

“My babies are out there, Senna. And I’m here with my brother and my best friends.” She looked, briefly, around the room. Sokka nodded. “If I thought any of us couldn’t do this I would send them home.”

“If there’s one thing we know how to do, it’s protect an Avatar.” Sokka added, smiling. “We’re pretty good at it.”

Slowly, Sokka, Suki and Zuko stood, hoping the others would follow. They needed to get the Avatar inside. Every minute they spent out here was a minute that they could be caught. They could do it, fend off the intruders with a sleeping child behind them, they’d done it before - that didn’t mean Sokka liked it. He felt his heart beating in his ears. They didn’t have time for this.

“I still… I’m still just not sure.” Senna started again, rambling. “What if they can feel that there’s a bunker? What happens if we can’t get out?”

Suki fidgeted beside him. She was growing impatient. Sokka took a breath.

“I promise,” He repeated, “we’ve tested this and-”

“I know you’ve tested,” Senna said, shakily, “but I just-”

“Aang used to pray.”

Zuko’s voice rang through the room. It wasn’t like Katara’s, calm yet bold in its presence, but like a zap in the air. It was like a shock, like a bolt coming down. Senna stilled.

Slowly, Zuko crept up to Katara and Senna, kneeling in front of her.

“When people were after my daughter and I started to buckle, we’d pray.” Zuko continued, softly. His gloved hand picked at the patch on his knee. He was in old clothes, inconspicuous clothes. They weren’t comfortable. He kept his glowing eyes fixed on the young mother. “Aang would pray for my child, even when they were after him.”

Sokka felt Suki’s hand wrap around his. They stood frozen in place, wrapped in their friend’s tale. Zuko rarely spoke of Aang. He’d share a story when prompted, or add to one already being told, but he wouldn’t bring him up of his own volition. Sometimes it felt like they’d buried him beside the Avatar. They were bound to each other, their destinies intertwined, and one stopped breathing.

“I can teach it to you, though I’m sure that Katara can pronounce it better.” Zuko added. His voice grew warm at the mention of their friend, like it was sweetened by his name, coated in honey. “But… we have to go downstairs.”

After six painful seconds, Senna nodded, hesitantly. Zuko reached out a hand, and she gingerly accepted it. Together, they stood, and walked to the bunker’s entrance.

Katara went down first, giving them both an assured nod. Senna passed Korra to Katara, and with a newfound courage, climbed down the ladder. Zuko went to go last, giving a small and perfectly awkward wave as he climbed down.

Sokka moved to close it behind them, staring down at Zuko on the rungs. He’d need to lock them inside once it closed.

“Thanks.” Sokka said. He wanted to say more, to convey how much he knew that took, but they didn’t have time.

“Don’t thank me.” Zuko shook his head. “It was all him.”

Sokka shut the door, heard the click, and moved the mat and blankets back on top. Now it was just the two of them, prepared to sit in silence for hours as they waited and listened. They’d take sleeping shifts in a few hours, but they would both be too wired now.

Suki started on one wall, Sokka started on the other, and they’d pace. Back and forth, back and forth. It kept you alert and awake, less chance of dozing off or growing bored. It was practiced. They’d meet in the middle, squeezing each other’s hands.

It was a clear night, not much snow, not much wind. Everything was still. That was good for them, though it made the sounds of their own feet shuffling all the more present. Sokka was in his head, checking and scanning and rescanning as he counted each step. Fifteen minutes after they locked the others underground, Suki caught his hand as they paced, causing him to stop.

“Do you know it?” She asked, quietly. “The prayer?”

Sokka sighed, long and low. It had been a long time.

“Yeah.” He muttered.

“Can we do it?”

“Yeah.”

Sokka cleared his throat. He hadn’t spoke in Aang’s language since his funeral. He’d never been the greatest at it, but he held on to whatever he taught him.

“May this child be healthy.” Sokka whispered, letting ancient words spill from his tounge and into the arctic air. Suki repeated him. If Aang wasn’t here before, he’d be here now.“May this child be safe. May this child be happy and peaceful.”

Suki nodded, and let go of his hand.

They kept pacing, echoing the prayer under their breath as they walked.

Lin

“You really should get some rest.”

“I’m fine.”

Lin rolled her eyes. Bumi had been badgering Tonraq since they arrived at their safe house, and still he didn’t budge. She popped open her pack, which was identical to everyone else’s and began to unfurl her sleeping bag next to the fire pit. They’d all be sleeping in the main room, for safety reasons. She wouldn’t be using hers for three hours, but it was better to be prepared. Tonraq’s was still in its bag.

“We sleep in shifts so that everyone is always on alert.” Bumi reasoned, tossing his bag out and laying it beside Lin’s. “You can’t help if you’re overtired.”

“I am fine.” The man said, through gritted teeth. He was seated on a pillow facing the door, watching it with a fervor that did not support his point.

Bumi made a face at Lin, gesturing to their super fun decoy house partner. She sighed, and moseyed over to him.

“Tonraq, I promise” Lin said, standing between him and the door. “I’ll wake you if the wind changes direction.”

“I can’t sleep.” Tonraq said, moving to see around her. “I have to be ready.”

“Okay.” Bumi clapped. She glanced back, watching as he shimmied into his sleeping bag. “Well, I’m going to sleep. You two have fun.”

“Night, Boom.” Lin said. Tonraq didn’t say anything.

A fake safe house is a lot like a real safe house, with a few minor tweaks. Instead of being covert, you must look like you’re trying but failing to be covert. You need to be safe enough to act like you have the Avatar, but not enough so that they don’t find you. You’re not allowed to start a fire, but the light can be on in short spurts. You should lock all the doors, but you can talk at just above a whisper. And you should have a trap door to a bunker that you will defend with your life, but will be completely empty, aside from the sacks of flour stuffed down there that are relatively the same shape and size of people, if anyone is able to sense it- which is rare.

Lin took off her thick outer coat and boots, revealing her specialized shoes. Her mother had been testing metal shoes with removable soles for the force for some time. These were prototypes, but Lin was comfortable enough with them to break them out for this mission. She walked across the small living room, tapping each board until she found a weak spot by the back wall. Carefully, she bent out each nail and picked up about seven boards. Once the boards were out of the way, a thick layer of gravel was below it, and below that, snow. Lin stepped into the hole she created, bending the soles off her shoes and letting her feet root into the dirt and onto the ice. She stepped a few times, firmly, with her eyes closed. Lin could get a picture, she had to get a picture of what was around her.  Lin could practically hear her mother’s voice in her head.

The ice will be harder. It’s always harder. But not impossible. Find the spots that’ll work with you.

“What are you doing?”

Lin opened her eyes. Tonraq had turned in his chair and was watching with an unconstrained curiosity. She studied him for a moment. Lin didn’t know Tonraq very well. They’d met, briefly, in her childhood. She’d gone with Aang and Katara’s family to the winter festival when she was fifteen or sixteen. She didn’t really remember it, nor did he. They’d remember each other now, though.

“I’m listening.” Lin responded, shifting her feet for a better angle. She closed her eyes, thumping her feet through the gravel and straight onto the cold hard ice below. Her soles stung but she was getting a good read.

“Listening to what?” He asked again. Lin opened her eyes, and he was hovering over her, looking into the hole in the floor.

Lin clicked her tongue in a mild annoyance. Lin didn’t know Tonraq very well. She knew his type. He was a big man, someone who took charge. He was also a family man. Both were bad to have in this position. This wasn’t his mission, and they’d separated him from his wife and daughter. Having Tonraq here was smart, it was a good move on Sokka’s part. To convincingly play the protectors of the Avatar, they needed a family member. Still. She would’ve picked Senna for herself, fighter or not.

Lin gingerly stepped out of the hole in the floor. Her feet were getting too cold, and she couldn’t risk them being numb this early. She needed a new way to do this.

“There are rocks under the snow.” Lin explained, once she realized he was still waiting for an answer. “There’s less of them, but they can still tell you a lot when you’re working off a strong base. The foundation of this house is gravel, so.” She continued, shifting her weight from one foot to another. He waited, nodding earnestly. “It’s kind of like echolocation. Like bats.”

“Oh.” Tonraq mused, staring into the hole. Satisfied, he sat back in his chair.

Lin shook out both her legs, and got back on the rocks. She couldn’t get a read like this. It was too sparse. Lin closed her eyes, and pictured the rocks becoming one clear picture. Below her, they formed a slab, marbled with black, grey and white from the pebbles they came from. Lin stepped across the new smooth stone. A small smile escaped her lips. It was perfect.

“Will that be enough?” Tonraq asked, still turned in his chair. Lin raised an eyebrow. At this point, he could just turn all the way around, but that was his journey. “Could you use that in a fight?”

“If I had to.” Lin shrugged. “But I have some things if it comes to that.” She said, lifting up her jacket to reveal the cable holster on her hip. 

“You brought cables all the way here?”

“Katara keeps them in her shed.” Lin explained. She’d picked them up before they left. Katara had a whole shed for all of her friend’s toys. She was a healer, but she was also a child of war. That breeds preparation.

“Oh.” Tonraq nodded. He had two knives strapped to his back, in addition to two water pouches on his sides.

“Yep.” Lin nodded, resuming her work.

With the new slab, she was able to get a much better picture of what they were dealing with. She could feel the ocean waves hitting the nearby port with ethereal force. She could feel the closest houses and make out the faint movements of the families inside. She could feel the small patter of an arctic fox waking up for the hunt. And she could feel Bumi and Tonraq, one with a steady heartbeat, the other racing a mile a minute.

“Can you see the other safe houses?” Tonraq asked, quietly, after a while.

“It doesn’t work like that.” Lin muttered, turning away. She stepped off of the rock and over to her pack. She needed a drink of water and wanted to escape this line of questioning. “They’re too far away for my seismic sense in the ice.”

“Are you sure?” Tonraq pleaded. If Lin hadn’t just felt the force of his panic, of his real anxiety and fear, she may have shut him down. She was an officer, he was a warrior, they knew what they were in for. But the look on his face was so stricken, so tired, it was hard to shut him down. 

Lin found her water bottle and took a drink. Gingerly, she walked passed a sleeping Bumi and back to the very disgruntled man who had stationed himself across the room.

“Tonraq, we don’t know because that’s part of keeping ourselves safe. It’s easy not to give up information when you don’t have it. Otherwise someone would bend.” Lin said, stepping back on the stone. She dug her feet back into it, letting it hold her up as she took another sip. “This way, no one even has the opportunity. We take away the choice. It’s protocol.”

“I know it’s protocol.” Tonraq snapped, slouching back in his seat. “I’m asking if you could look past that for a second.”

Lin straightened. Her eyes narrowed. They didn’t know each other very well. He didn’t know that that was not how you speak to a Beifong, nor is it how you talk to someone doing what they’re doing. At every turn he’d complained about their plan, refuted it and argued against some part of it like he had any experiencing in what they were doing. She knew his type. They were in her class at the academy. They were in the office. They were not in her family. 

Lin rolled her shoulders back.

“Aang made this plan.” Lin said, letting her voice grow as a new fire bubbled in her chest. She gestured to the room. “It was his idea.”

“I know.” Tonraq replied, scowling.

“Do you?” Lin snapped.

Tonraq’s eyes widened that made her certain he wasn’t used to people talking to him like that. Well, neither was she. Lin stood taller, steadfast in her conviction.

“That should hold a great deal of weight to you. That should mean you trust me. And you trust the protocol.”

“I do.” He nodded. Lin stepped off the rock and back onto the wood. Tonraq shrunk, slightly back in his seat. She’d caught him off guard. Good.

“He made this for his kids. Which, in this specific instance, included me. He made this for me.” Lin continued, thumping her hand against her chest. Her voice threatened to break at the end, but she stifled the ache in her lungs. She met his eyes with an unforgiving glare. “Ask me again if I believe in the protocol. Ask me.”

“I’m sorry.” Tonraq blurted. Lin blinked. She half expected him to fight her on it. Instead, he ran a shaky hand through his already teased-out wolf tail and stood from his seat. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know why I snapped at you I- I guess I do.” He took a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how to do this. I thought that I knew what it would mean to protect my family, to keep us safe but this… I’m still finding my footing.” He admitted, his tired eyes turning an awful shade of desperate.

Lin took a small step back. Talking about feelings was never her favorite activity, and dads talking about their daughters was even less so. This was a Katara conversation. Or Sokka, even. Suki. Maybe Bumi. Zuko would love this kind of thing. Kya for sure. But not Lin. That was not her forte.

“Look…” Lin started, grasping for the next word. She thought about what her mom would say as she mechanically passed him the water bottle. He accepted graciously, taking a big swig. Lin cleared her throat. “Um… my guess is that they won’t come until four, if they’re coming. So you might as well sleep until then. You’ll feel better if you sleep, and you’ll be a better asset.”

“How do you know that’s when they’re coming?” Tonraq asked. Lin crossed her arms, picking at one of the iron clasps around her forearm.

“I’m a detective and it’s an educated guess.” Lin explained, glancing back at the door. “The harbor closes at three and the first boats start to leave at five. It’s the window.” She surmised, shrugging. “So if I’m right, there are a solid five hours before anything interesting happens. You could spend at least three of those asleep is you go to bed right now.”

“Okay.” Tonraq nodded, hesitantly. She could practically see the gears in his head turning as he mulled it over. She held her breath.“Yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll go to bed.”

“Great.” Lin said, sighing of relief.

Lin and Tonraq didn’t know each other very well. He didn’t know that she grew up in Aang and Katara’s house as much as her own. He didn’t know that he taught her to swim and how to whistle to birds in a way that makes them call back or how to climb the tallest trees on Air Nomad Island. He didn’t know that Aang for all of them meant safe, that Avatar meant light and love and so many good things that it made these parts, the scary parts, feel easier to do. He didn’t know that when he tried to pick apart Aang’s plan.

And honestly… Lin didn’t really know that either, or at least that it would hit such a nerve. The anger consumed and left her so quickly, she was honestly still disoriented as she went back to her slab of gravel. When he questioned Aang’s plan, she had felt an overwhelming, almost suffocating need to defend him, to protect him like he’d done to her. He wasn’t there to talk it out with Tonraq, to explain all of the reasons why it was their best, least violent option, so she had to. She had to protect him from this man who knew nothing of Air Temple Island, of what a vow of nonviolence really was and what peace meant to a nomad. Lin was his kid. She’d keep him safe now too.

Tonraq took out his pack and put on the opposite side of the pit, across from hers and Bumi’s.

“Goodnight.” Lin whispered.

“Goodnight, Lin.” Tonraq whispered back. He’d put up his hood, but she could still make out his pensive stare. “Thank you.” He added.

“Don’t thank me yet.” She thought, but nodded instead.

Lin closed her eyes, hitting the rock with enough force to send a rhythm deep into the ice and out onto the ocean. Nothing yet. They had a long night.

Bumi, a few hours later

Bumi was still buzzing. He was able to drift off thanks to numerous nights at sea crammed below deck with dozens of other soldiers, some talking, some snoring, some inexplicably playing a tune on the harmonica, the list goes on. When Lin woke him up for his shift he was expecting Tonraq to still be haunting their little house, but he was out cold.

Ever the perfect student (and mild teacher’s pet), Lin had woken him up after four hours, not three. Bumi noted her project, discerning its use fairly quickly as he began to pace. Five steps one way, five the next. Never too many to leave your back unprotected, never too few not to get a good view. It was a quiet night, a still night. Not too much wind. He’d be able to hear anything.

As they neared four o’clock in the morning, Bumi started to step more carefully. He’d noted the ideal window, if they were going to come it would be now.

For perhaps the first time, someone in his family had a good relationship to timing.

Fifteen minutes past four am, Bumi heard a different sound. A new sound. It wasn’t like a normal step, but it was distinctly human. They were coming from the water, five meters away. They probably thought the lap of the waves the harbor would mask their steps, but Bumi spent most of his time at sea. The ocean was his friend, it gave them away quickly.

Bumi woke Lin up first.She stirred quickly, and with one look knew what he was asking. He got Tonraq up next, putting a hand to his mouth before he was able to call out. He was in a high-energy mood, which was about to be very helpful, but was not yet. In an instant, he snapped into form. Bumi could tell from the look in his eye he wasn’t in the presence of the same anymore. This was a warrior.

Quietly, they both ran over to the hole in the floor. Lin was alread onto the slab, pressing both hands and feet against the stone. Bumi kneeled beside her, waiting.

“How many?” He whispered.

“One.” Lin said, her eyes still closed.

“Bender?” Tonraq asked. He’d uncapped both water jugs, and kept his eyes fixed on the door.

“Definitely,” Lin nodded, digging both of her hands deeper into the rock. “But it’s… hm.” She made a face Bumi couldn’t read.

“What?” He asked, puzzled. Lin let out a small snicker, which caused both Bumi and Tonraq to raise an eyebrow.

“Oh man.” Lin shook her head. “My mom will be annoyed she missed this.”

“What does that mean?” Bumi asked, still slightly bewildered. He was wracking his brain, trying to think of the last time he saw the great Lin Beifong snicker.

Lin opened her eyes and dislodged herself from the rock. She stood, wiping the dust from her hands. They both stood, waiting for her call. Lin stepped out of the hole, moving past both of them and towards the door.

“It means prepare for long range fighting and have a lot of water ready. And probably take a step back.” She said, taking off her jacket and unlocking her cables. Lin got into her metal bending stance, and the others followed. Bumi took the first throwing knives out of their holster.

Lin slammed her foot against the floor, and behind them the entire gravel slab lifted into the air. It hovered, lying in wait.

“This is about to get interesting.”

Chapter Text

Kya

Kya and Tenzin walked to the safe house in silence. She could picture what he was thinking about. The plan, the Avatar, their parents, his fiancé. He’d sent a letter to Pema earlier that day. She’d seen it in the pile of mail when she sent a letter to June.

Tenzin definitely wasn’t thinking about himself. That’s why Kya was here. Her task was to keep him safe. In a lot of ways that had always been her task, though she’d tried to shake it at nearly every turn. This time though, she came at it with wide open arms. But she was also thinking about forgiveness. She was thinking about what she could forgive. What her mother could forgive. What her brothers could forgive.

The safe house was almost nice. It was up in the mountains at the base of the range. With a clear sky like they had tonight, it would be a beautiful view if they were allowed to open the curtains. Kya sat on her sleeping bag and sipped a thermos of tea they’d brought from the house. They were supposed to take shifts sleeping, but Tenzin’s muttering had long dashed that plan. For an air bender he could be incredibly loud sometimes.

“I don’t like this.” Tenzin said, pacing back and forth. “It’s too quiet.”

“Quiet is good, Tez.” Kya muttered, into her mug, for the umpteenth time.

“Not like this.” He sighed.

Kya set down her tea and studied her brother. It was hard to discern what was instinct from years of work in global politics and a lifetime of being someone who was occasionally hunted, and what was normal Tenzin spiraling. The jury was still out. Kya stood up, stretched and adjusting the water pouches on her hips. Deciding it was better to be safe, she joined him in the pacing. Neither was going to sleep anytime soon, that much was clear.

As they walked, Kya took in the room. She hadn’t paid much attention to the walls until now, but they had a lovely design. The tapestries that hung over the windows were beautifully done, depicting winter spirits and arctic animals. They were mesmerizing, and they were something else.

“I just realized why this is so familiar.” Kya whispered, her eyes lighting up with recognition. She was turning back around, and Tenzin was too. They’d meet in the middle in five steps. “We’ve been in this one before.”

“What?” Tenzin said, raising an eyebrow as he passed her.

“This safe house.” Kya said, gesturing to the room. “They used it before. When some stuff was going down when we were kids.”

“Oh.” Tenzin muttered. They’d made it to the other wall, and were walking back to one another. “I don’t know if I remember that.” He said.

“You were like three, so that makes sense.” Kya shrugged.

“What happened?” Tenzin said, after a while. His back was to her, but she could feel the anxiety rising in his voice. “To us, I mean.”

“Oh. Nothing.” Kya said, remembering their last stint here. It was fairly uneventful, she didn’t remember it until she saw the weaving. “Mom caught them and it’s mom so…” Kya ran a hand down her braid. “She won.”

“Of course.”

“It was weird, though.” Kya continued, turning back around as the memories started to flood in. She hadn’t thought about any of it in a long time. She fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist. “They tracked us using this really specialized technique. It’s heat-based, though any water and fire benders can use it. Some people don’t even think it’s real.”

“What, like it’s made up?” Tenzin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s hard to do, so for a long time it was though that those who could do it were touched by spirits. But they weren’t.” Kya furrowing her brows as she tried to remember. She’d studied it in the swaps of Ba Sing Se, and again in the North, but that was years ago. “They were just really, really patient.”

“How did mom figure it out?” Tenzin asked, turning back around.

“She can do it.” Kya explained. She ran a hand against one of the walls. Below the wood, she could feel the ice, almost like it was calling to her. “She recognized the style and caught them with it before they found us.”

“Huh.”

“She tried to teach me, once. Afterwards.” Kya continued, thinking aloud to herself more than anything else. She could remember it all now. The safe house. The fight. The weeks that followed.  Clear as day. Though there was something nagging at her. Something was missing. Something was different. Why now?

“It’s like something’s in the air…”  Kya muttered, clearing her throat. She’d stopped pacing, her arm still out against the wall. “It’s like the heat from your body is…” Kya furrowed her brows, pressing her hand harder against the wall.“Like it’s being… pulled.” She tugged her hand back, flexing it. Some piece of this was missing. Something was different. Something was.

Something was out there.

“Oh no.”

Kya blanched. The safe house wasn’t all that reminded her of that attack. Someone had tracked them, maybe had since the beginning. They didn’t need a map or a spy or a guide, they could feel them. That was the sensation, that’s what was different. They were using their bodies against them. Kya could feel them too now. But she was too late.

“Get down!” Kya screamed.

She dove at her brother, pushing them both against the floor. In front of them, the wall shook and then toppled in on itself. Tenzin and Kya quickly scrambled up through the debris. The house was completely torn in two. Everything was covered in a thick haze.

“Shit!” Tenzin cursed.

He started to bend the air away. Kya was still getting her bearings. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Everything had happened so fast.

Kya closed her eyes. She could feel the water around her. The snow and the ice wanted to work with her. They would show her the attacker. Kya took a few steps forward, listening until she found the quick steps of the woman coming towards them. In one move, she caught her legs. It wasn’t a perfect move, but it seemed that the woman couldn’t see through the haze they’d created either. They still had a chance. They could-

Tenzin was clearing the path. He was clearing the fog.

“Wait!” Kya screamed. 

The woman got free the moment they could see. Kya’s eyes widened. She wasn’t like anyone Kya had met.She was taller than most, with a very specific tattoo on her forehead. She’d heard the stories, the tales of the man who could firebend with his mind, but this was the first time she’d seen the skill in person. Kya was decidedly not the biggest fan. Everything else aside, it was pretty cool. And she was hot. But that was a thought for another day.

Tenzin and Kya, to their credit, were a good team. Tenzin fought with calculated precision. Kya made up for the years she’d spent away from combat training with a ‘home-field’ advantage. They quickly learned how to bob and weave around her blasts, and were coming in on her. Her forehead was what was most sensitive, they just needed a window. With one look, Kya knew she and her brother were on the same page.

Tenzin sprinted towards her, hoping to distract her while Kya gained higher ground. It was working, for a moment. Kya climbed up on what used to the their safe house, ducking behind debris as she found her best angle. Every other second, she looked back down at her brother. She wasn’t more than a few feet of the ground, but it felt too far away. Tenzin seemed unfazed. He was an aggressive fighter. He’d always had been more comfortable with offense than defense, which she found ironic. He was actually slightly terrifying, moving faster than anyone else alive could. He could slip around her blasts with unflappable grace.

Kya should’ve seen it coming.

Tenzin had a habit of becoming too fixated on his goal, on cutting away the rest of the world. He wouldn’t stop, no matter what. In evading one blast, Tenzin failed to see one of the last standing walls begin to topple behind him. Kya watched in slow motion as a block slammed against his shoulder. It wasn’t as bad as it could be. It would bruise, but likely not break. But it was just enough to make him loose his balance, for a fraction of a second.

But of course that’s all it takes. A fraction of a second. The attacker saw it too. She had a sickeningly smug look on her face as she wound up for the next blast. It would hit him square in the chest. It would kill him. If Kya jumped now, she could take her out, but not before she hit Tenzin. She’d left him open. She’d done this. She felt bile rise in the back of her throat. This would be over in seconds.

Kya spent a lot of today thinking about forgiveness.

Her father was good at forgiveness. He was merciful. He saw the pain behind the anger and then the light behind the pain. He walked muddled people back into the sun, time and time again. Kya wasn’t Aang. She held the same set of core beliefs, followed the same diet and read the same books, but she was not the last air bender. She was his daughter. The daughter of a lost people, of two lost peoples, they are not burdened with the same nature. They do not need to forgive. They can let the anger linger and lurk in them. It will not consume them, as it has nothing to feed on. Kya dreams of places she’s never been. There is nothing to root this anger to. It only lives in her bones.

Before he died, Aang asked his daughter to forgive herself. He’d asked her to stop trying different cures months before. She still tried them when he fell asleep. For his sake, for his peace, she promised him she’d try. She lied.

Kya was not willing to forgive the spirits for his absence, nor was she willing to forgive her hands for being unable to save him. In the last four years, she learned she was not willing to forgive a lot thing. She couldn’t tolerate the pain. She was the daughter of a lost place. She could not loose more. She would rather be lost herself.

Tenzin would understand that. He’d have to understand that.

Her brother was off balance, grabbing his shoulder through gritted teeth. He didn’t see the attacker wind back up. Even if he had, there was no time. Kya took a deep breath, and pushed herself off of the wall.

The water bender landed between them, her feet planted in the ice. Kya lifted as much water as she could from the floor. She didn’t have enough time for a real wall, there wasn’t any time at all.

“No!”

Tenzin screamed out behind her, but his voice was quickly eclipsed by something far louder. The blast cut through her wall like it was a knife through a blade of grass.

The blast hit Kya just below her ribs.

Tenzin would have to understand. She could not forgive any other outcome.

It had to be her.

Bumi

Lava. The man was bending lava. Fucking lava.

Bumi felt like that was cheating, and he said as much several times as they fought. The attacker seemed to think it was pretty funny, but his fighting partners did not. Thankfully, with three against one they were able to take him down with a quick coordinated attack. Lin did a lot of the heavy lifting, literally, but with Tonraq extinguishing his blasts and Bumi’s sporadic fighting patterns, they were pulling their own weight. Tonraq was a pretty good fighter, even by UF standards. He didn’t hesitate where a lot of other fighters would have. Lin was beyond incredible, but that wasn’t a surprise. She was a scrappier fighter than her mother, less precise, but faster. Bumi liked to think of himself as fairly skilled. He didn’t hold anyone back. He was still slightly impulsive, but he’d learned how to channel that sort of energy into action.

In the end, they were able to knock him out and tie him up without killing him, though it was abundantly clear Tonraq wanted to. This was not before he sent a final blast out, which knocked both Tonraq and Bumi through a wall and into the cold.

“He’s secured!” Lin called out, through the new hole in the wall. Between this and the floor boards they’d really taken the safe house apart from the inside. “Everyone okay?”

“Yes.” Tonraq said, groaning as he stumbled back to his feet. They had both skidded hard against the thick ice, which unlike its brother, snow, was not a forgiving surface.

“Are you okay, Buggy?” Bumi asked, forcing himself to sit up as he used an old nickname. His head was pounding and his jacket throughly ripped up.

“I’m okay.” Lin said, poking her head back out. In the moonlight, Bumi could see some scuff marks and dirt on her face, but no visible injuries. He let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in. “Boom? You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Bumi nodded, moving to stand. As soon as he put weight on his left leg, it gave out below him. Tonraq, spirits bless him, caught him before he could go crashing back onto the ice. “Ow, okay, less good.” He muttered, through gritted teeth.

Bumi leaned against Tonraq as they walked back into the house, very gingerly. Inside, the damage from the fight wasn’t incredibly extensive. They’d managed to keep the attacker outside until the very end in the name of protecting a fake bunker. The man was tied up in the corner, out cold and in new platinum cuffs and bindings. For good measure, Tonraq took it upon himself to encase him in a sort of ice-prison. Bumi didn’t think it was necessary, but he didn’t object.

Meanwhile, Lin examined Bumi’s leg by one of their candles. He cringed, already fairly certain of what she would say. He was, unfortunately, very familiar with this feeling.

“It looks like it’s broken.” She frowned, clicking her tongue. “We should go to the meeting point and see if anyone is back.”

“I’ll send up the flare.” Tonraq offered, already moving back towards the hole in the wall. The door felt useless now “The White Lotus will be looking for it.”

“Thanks.” Lin said, still staring at Bumi’s leg.

“I don’t like this.” Bumi muttered, leaning back on his hands. He was still buzzing, adrenaline from the fight would likely follow him into the next day. It was always hard for him to shake it off. “I want to warn the others, or something.”

“I know.” Lin muttered, sitting back on her heels. She was still in her special shoes, which creaked as she moved. “They took our bait, though. That’s a good sign.”

“Yeah.” Bumi muttered, brushing stray hairs back into his wolf tail. It had all gone quiet again. Too quiet. He almost missed the wind. “I still don’t like it.”

“Well-”

Before Lin could finish, Tonraq barreled back into the room, far shakier than he’d been before. He’d been walking so quickly, he stumbled over some debris, still finding in footing as he started to talk.

“You need to see something.” He muttered, wringing his hands around each other. He looked between the two of them, his face awash with anxiety. “Now. Right now.”

Lin nodded. In one sweeping move, she tossed Bumi’s arm around her shoulders and lifted him to his feet. Together, in a panicked silence, they followed Tonraq back outside. He’d lit the flare and stuck it on a pillar in the sand, shining above their safe house so that the White Lotus couldn’t miss it.

Bumi looked out towards the town. He was half expecting to see an army of some sort, marching towards them and promising their imminent doom. Lin was scanning the coast, searching for signs on the water of disturbance. They didn’t find any. 

“What are we looking at, Tonraq?” Lin asked, just above a whisper. Though they’d won the night still felt long from over. They were not out of the woods, not by a long shot. Suffice to say, their patience was limited.

“Look. There.” Tonraq pointed North, up towards the mountain range. “Who’s up there?”

Bumi squinted, following his finger. Sure enough, in between two lower peaks there was bright burning spot. A fire. Bumi froze. They knew that house. They’d been there before. That was a safe house. Their safe house. Lin tightened her hand around his wrist. She was connecting the same dots as him. For a fraction of a second, he thought he could be wrong. But he made the mistake of glancing a her. Her face had gone pale. He was right.

Bumi’s heart fell from his chest. A sickening sinking feeling enveloped his stomach. He felt faint. He couldn’t see. Everything was suddenly hot and freezing and spinning. His mouth went dry.   

“Oh no.” He muttered, softly. His throat ached with every breath. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“Is that-” Tonraq stammered. He was standing beside them, so tense his shoulders were hiked up to his shoulders. He ran a tired hand over his head. “Is that where my daughter is?” He pleaded, speaking in their native language. Bumi was barely listening, he could barely hear, but the strain, the ache in Tonraq’s voice pulled him back down to the ground.

This was happening.

“It’s not…” Lin started. Her grip on him started to loosen as she spoke. Her heart was beating hard in her chest. “It’s not your daughter.” She whispered.

For a fraction of a second, Tonraq looked relieved. Bumi understood, or he could understand, maybe, one day. Not today though. Not right now.

The energy, the panic that had built up since they crawled back out of that spirit-forsaken hole in the wall and gazed up at that horrid mountain finally came to a crux. Bumi’s heart felt like it was being ripped from his chest with every beat. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to get to them.

“No-no-no-no-” Bumi stammered. He broke from Lin’s arms and tried to run, his eyes fixed on that smoldering dot, a bright terrible beacon against the moonlit snow and stars.

His leg gave out almost immediately. He only made it three steps before crashing back against the ice. It stung, but he could barely feel it. He’d crawl to them if he had to.

“Bumi stop-” Lin pleaded, gathering him in her arms. She pulled both of his hands from the ice, forcing him to stop his stumbling.

“That’s Kya and Tenzin!” Bumi screamed. He tried and failed to get up, ignoring the shooting pain that flared in his leg. He kept his eyes on the red dot. “It’s Kya and Tenzin I have to-”

“Bumi-You can’t-Hey! You can’t walk!” Lin shouted back, shaking him, slightly. Bumi was taken aback, but it brought him back to earth. Lin’s eyebrows were knitted together, almost pleading. “Stay down.” She whispered, loosening her grip.

“Sorry…” Tonraq cleared his throat, kneeling beside them.  Lin hardened. Bumi couldn’t turn to him. He couldn’t look away from the dot. “How do you know it’s them?”

“Because we’ve been there before.” Lin muttered. “It’s a standard safe house. They’d never use it for the Avatar.” She added, trying to reassure him.

“They’re in there.” Bumi said again, trying to stand. “I have to-”

“I’ll go.” Tonraq said, catching his shoulder. Bumi was too surprised to fight it as he guided him back to the ground. In seconds, Tonraq had snapped back from his stress and spiral, and returned to the solider they’d fought with. It was almost whiplash-inducing. Bumi blinked. Tonraq kept a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go see what they need. You two wait for the White Lotus. We’ll meet back to Chief Hakoda and Kanna’s place. I’ll handle it.”

“Okay.” Lin accepted, before Bumi could refute. She reached out a hand, shaking Tonraq’s arm in the traditional greeting of the Southern Water Tribe. “Good luck.”

They watched, silently, as Tonraq ran towards the mountains.

“We need to go back inside.” Lin muttered, once it was clear he was out of view. She hoisted them both up, practically dragging Bumi back inside. She placed him by the fire pit, but he was barely there. His heart was pounding in his ears. His cheeks stung from dried tears turned cold by the icy air.

“Lin, you should follow him.” Bumi said, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “We need to-”

“We have to wait for the White Lotus.” Lin said, firmly. She was watching their attacker, one hand on her cables. “It’s protocol.”

“But I need to-” Bumi ran a nervous hand through his hair. He felt crazy. He felt everything. He felt nothing. His little brother and sister were out there, alone, on fucking fire and he-

“Lieutenant.” Lin said, sharply. Bumi froze. His spiral halted.

Lin took a breath, her shoulders creeping back down from her ears. She clenched and unclenched her jaw, frowning.

“We have to focus.” She started again, speaking with a firm, but even tone. “This is a high risk situation. Kya and Tenzin are two incredible fighters. And they have a lot to fight for being together. All we know is that something happened.” She crossed her arms against her body, cradling one against the other. Bumi frowned. She glanced back at him, her grey-green eyes sharp and sobering. “You need to take a deep breath. I need you here.”

Bumi paused. She looked disappointed. Bumi hated that. He hated that face. It made him feel like he was fourteen and accidentally ate all of Little Linny Bug’s pitted dates. It made him feel young. Too young.

“Okay. You’re right.” Bumi nodded, forcing air to flow out of his lungs. He sat up straighter, propping his leg up with one of their cushions. “What’s our game plan?”

“The same.” Lin shrugged. “We’ve secured the criminal. Now we’ll wait for the White lotus. Then we’ll back at your grandfathers.” She sighed, taking a seat beside him at the unlit fire place. “And we trust Tonraq. He’ll get to them, and he’ll get them back to the house.”

Bumi wiped his hands across his face, wiping away the tears and smoothing back his hair.

“I should’ve gone with them.” He lamented, into his palms.

“We didn’t know.” Lin said. She was staring at her hands, which were balled into fists in her lap. Still, she spoke with an assurance he didn’t have. “There was no way to know.”

“We were the decoys.” He sighed, a strain creeping into his voice. He didn’t care.

Lin didn’t say anything, there was nothing more to say. She leaned her head against his shoulder, the way she would when they were small. They’d started on near opposite paths, and yet now they walked the same road. The road that made them the decoy team. The road that made them successful. The road that led away from his siblings and their house that was on fire.

Bumi craned his neck, hoping to catch another glance of the red dot in the mountains. He couldn’t.

He was the decoy. They were supposed to be the decoys.

Tenzin

Tenzin’s first sparring partner was his sister. Though Lin quickly became his favorite training buddy, Kya was still technically first. He was five, she was about to be eight. His job was to weave around around her. Her job was to practice a new move. Their parents were monitoring them, ensuring their safety. Tenzin was afriad at first, though his father insisted that it would be alright. Kya was his sister, she wouldn’t hurt him. He wasn’t sure.

One might think that because he was three years her junior, that the young water bender would take it easy on him. Bumi certainly would, and did with Kya when the roles were reversed. She didn’t. She was aggressive, taking every opportunity that presented itself. At first, it scared him, opening him to the possibility that his father’s words were not gospel, that he could be wrong. It didn’t necessarily feel like she wanted to hurt him, but she definitely wanted to win. She gave him everything she had. She forced Tenzin to dig deeper, to be better.

That never changed. Not on the mat or anywhere else. She did not go easy on him or baby him or do anything an older sibling may feel inclined to do with the youngest in the family. Bumi was different. He was classically an older brother. He was kind, he teased them, he didn’t let them go in his room for many years. Sometimes he ate the rest of their food. He gave Tenzin books he thought he’d enjoy. He had a slight air of mystery in his teens. All of that stuff. Kya was a very good middle child. She knew how to fly under the radar. She was talented, good in school, had friends. She was the child their parents didn’t need to worry about.

She was not necessarily what Tenzin considered a big sister. She was his older sister, she made that clear, but she was distinctly the middle sibling. Kya would not bend for her little brother. She would not concede, not in a match or when picking a flavor of ice cream. They spent their childhood in unspoken competition over most things. They rarely saw things the same way. Overtime, Tenzin came to value that. It made him work harder, be more creative, get out of his own head. She seemed to like it too.

Kya pushed him. She forced him to be better. And even when they were fighting, when she gave him her worst, she in turn took his. In being petty and annoying and awful, she let him do the same. That’s what the gave to one another.

When Kya left after her graduation, Tenzin realized he really, really valued it. She went off to refine her healing abilities, and he stayed here. And then their world fell apart. And their competition didn’t feel as light hearted anymore. And he was tired. And she was angry. And it was easier to act like they shared an older brother, and were not themselves in the same dynamic.

Tenzin didn’t know why she volunteered to come with him. At the time, he wrote off as a way to slight Tonraq. She really shouldn’t be protecting the Avatar, she’d spent the last four years away from combat training. But she could’ve been on the decoy team. Or working with the White Lotus. Or back in the Republic, looking for clues with Toph. But she’d volunteered to go with him.

Tenzin wouldn’t have wanted most people to go with him. He didn’t want to split resources away from Korra, for one. Also, he didn’t like the idea of anyone he loved swearing to protect him at all costs. They’d done it before, many times, but never any of his people. Never his siblings or Lin or Izumi. This was new.

But Kya didn’t baby him. She didn’t go easy on him. She wasn’t gentle. He couldn’t picture her killing anyone, and he certainly knew she wouldn’t be dumb enough to get herself killed. She’d stay in her lane and he’d stay in his. Same as always.

Suffice to say, Tenzin didn’t see this coming.

It happened in slow motion. He was grabbing his shoulder, scuffed up and throbbing. That was his mistake, he realized belatedly. Before he could blink, Kya was throwing herself from the wall and landing between them. He knew what was going to happen before he heard the blast.

Tenzin could hear a lot of things better than most people. That was a piece of air bending people didn’t realize. He was literally connected to the wind. Aside from their father’s last breath, this was the worst sound he’d ever heard. The laser cut through the water wall with a sickening hiss and landed on his sister with a deafening scream.

“No!”

Tenzin screamed. It was too late. He was too late. His heart dropped as Kya fell to the ground in front of him, the wall of water crashing around her unceremoniously. His pulse was pounding in his head. He was dizzy. He was in shock.

“Whoops.” The attacker muttered, smiling sickening to herself.

Tenzin met her eyes with a newfound rage. He’d literally forgotten she was there. Not anymore.

“Well, that was meant for you.” She continued, clicking her tongue. She straightened, winding back up for another shot. “Okay, at least this time your friend won’t get in the way.”

He wanted to kill her. He’d never wanted that before, but he did now. He really, really did.

“Enough!”

Tenzin screamed. In one swoop, he leapt over his sister, gathering as much wind as he could and landing a blast on the attacker. It happened so quickly, she wasn’t able to deflect or recover. He saw her eyes before she was hit. The bravado had dropped. For the first time since the fight began, she looked scared.

His father had done a good job teaching people about the Air Nomads. He hadn’t done as holistic a job teaching people about air bending. There was a reason their people lived with intense discipline. They had the most dangerous gift on the planet, yet people often wrote them off. Their beliefs kept them in line, they kept them connected to the spirits and the rest of the world.

But Tenzin wasn’t an Air Nomad. He was the son of one. He was the son of two lost places. He was the last air bender. That could mean whatever he wanted it to.

The attacker flew back, tumbling across the ice and landing ten meters away.

Tenzin settled back on the earth, breathing hard. He scanned the snow, looking for her. Sure enough, there was a small figure in the snow. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing, but she wasn’t going anywhere. That would have to be enough for now. He didn’t care. The spirits would have to forgive him.

“Kya!” Tenzin screamed. He bolted back to his sister, skidding against the snow with his knees. “No-no-no-”

The laser had hit just below her ribs. Already, her coat was soaked with red. Thank the spirits, she was breathing. Tenzin let out a small sigh of relief. 

“What did you do?” Tenzin muttered, bringing her into his lap.She started to stir, her eyes fluttering open with a pained expression.

“She was-” Kya stammered. She was breathing too fast. She needed to stay calm. “She was going to- she-”

“Okay, okay.”  Tenzin said, shushing her. His heart was beating a mile a minute. He needed to fix this.

Tenzin scanned the area. Their house had been completely torn apart. Most of it was still on fire, smoldering around them. The White Lotus would have seen this, so would everyone, so they didn’t need to send a flare.

Gingerly, he started to take off Kya’s coat so that he could see the extent of the damage. She tried to fight it, wincing in pain.

“Stop.” Kya said, through gritted teeth.

“I need to see, I’m sorry.” Tenzin said, peeling the coat from her body. It was soaked in a thick sheen of blood, dying the white fur inside a deep red. Tenzin took off his own coat and started to apply pressure to her wound.

“No. Get. Her.” Kya said, between labored breaths.

“I don’t care about her.” Tenzin said, an ache creeping into his voice. “Fuck.” His hands shook as his coat started to turn red beneath his fingers. This wasn’t enough. This wasn’t working.

Kya lifted a hand and brought it to his shoulder. She squeezed it, lightly.

“It’s okay.” She said, in their father’s language. Her bright blue eyes had a forgiving look. This wasn’t good. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not it’s-”

Tenzin cut himself off. There were footsteps, fast footsteps, barreling up the hill towards them. If he was less distracted he would’ve heard them sooner.

Without looking, Tenzin threw one wave of wind behind them. He didn’t have time for this.

“Get back!” He screamed, turning to face their new attacker.

“It’s me!” Tonraq yelled, stumbling slightly and putting both hands up. Tenzin blinked.

“It’s Tonraq!” He yelled. The man looked worn, a few scrapes and tears in his jacket, but otherwise unscathed. Some part of his brain registered this as confirmation that the decoy team had been visited as well, that this was a coordinated attack, but he didn’t have the space to think about it further.

Tonraq approached them cautiously, kneeling beside him.

“What happened?” He asked, panic lacing his words as he saw Kya’s state.

“She got hit what do you think happened?” Tenzin snapped.

“Teznin. Tenzin.” Kya said, breathlessly. She brought her hand back to his arm, hissing as he reaplied pressure. “You need to calm down.” She said, still speaking in their father’s language. Tenzin didn’t love that. It’s what their father did in the week before he died. He only spoke in their language. No one knew why.

“Calm down?” Tenzin said, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “You got blasted by a laser what are you talking about?”

“Shh.”

Kya closed her eyes. She let go of his shoulder and summoned a small circle of water. Gently, she pushed his hands off and lowered the water into her wound. Tenzin waited with baited breath. She pressed her hand hard against the wound, groaning in pain as she healed herself.

“What are you doing?” He whispered, as the familiar whirring of water stopped. Kya’s hand fell loosely beside her. Whatever she’d done had taken the rest of her energy. 

“I slowed the bleeding.” She said. Her voice sounded far away. “We only have a few minuets before the frostbite sets in. You need to get me to mom, now.”

Tenzin’s eyes widened.

“What?” He squawked.

“I’m not playing around, Tenzin.” Kya muttered, her eyebrows knitted together.

Tenzin inspected the wound. In place of the gaping hole in her abdomen, there was now a thick slab of ice. He moved a hand to touch it, but hesitated.

“Did you… freeze yourself?” Tenzin asked, bewildered.

“It’s experimental I’ve read-”

“Oh so you’ve read about it so you’re an expert.” Tenzin said, sarcastically.

Now he could kill her.

“Shut up!” Kya spat. She looked up at him with a familiar annoyance. Kind of a good sign. “She hit major vessels. I had two minutes left Tez. Two.”

“Now you have what?” He scoffed.

“Closer to ten.” She said, somewhat satisfied.

Tenzin frowned. The blood from her wound had spread all over her shirt and on her hands. He could be mad if he wanted, but they both knew that. She would’ve died. She would’ve died here.

Gently, Tenzin put his coat back over the wound.

“You’re still bleeding.” He lamented, softly. His shoulders were hiked up to his ears, and probably wouldn’t come down.

“It’s not a perfect system.” Kya sighed, shakily. Her eyes drifted from his face to their new visitor. “Tonraq, please secure miss laser face.”

“No, Tonraq heal her.” Tenzin shook his head. He met the man’s eyes for the first time since his arrival. He seemed almost surprised. Can you? Just in the meantime?”

“No.” Kya stammered. For someone propped up on his knees, bleeding out in the arctic mountains, she was speaking with a lot of control. “You need to make sure the White Lotus get her.”

“You need help.” Tenzin frowned.

“This can’t be for nothing.” Kya said, her voice strained.

Tenzin hesitated.

“I’ll do it then.” He decided. “Tonraq, can heal you while we wait?” They both turned to the water bender, who had remained silent.

“I can’t.” He said, his voice above a whisper. “I don’t know how to heal.”

Tenzin nearly blacked out. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill a lot of people today.

“What?” Kya squeaked.

“Yes you can.” Tenzin said, his voice firm. “Yes you can. You’re going to try.”

Gently, he set his sister back onto the snow. With hesitant hands, Tonraq lifted water to her wound. They waited for a few seconds as a murky-sounding whir filled the air.

“Ow-ow- okay stop. Stop.” Kya stammered. She swatted at his hands, her face twisted in pain.

Tenzin’s heart sunk even further into the snow. Kya met his eyes with a knowing look. Tonraq of the Northern and Southern Water Tribe never learned to heal. She was going to die because the father of the Avatar didn’t complete his training. And then Tenzin would kill him.

“I’m so sorry.” Tonraq said, his eyebrows knitted together.

“So what now?” Tenzin snapped.

“She needs to go, now.” Tonraq started, his voice even with a new confidence. He was a warrior, allegedly. He could work under pressure. “I’ll secure the attacker and wait for the White Lotus. They must be coming, considering we could see you from the harbor. You two need to going, I’ll catch up with you.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah.” Tenzin said, taking a deep breath. It was a sound plan. The only plan. “She’s um…” Tenzin squinted into the distance. She was still there, sprawled out. “She’s over there.”

Tonraq nodded, and started off toward the attacker. Tenzin turned back to his sister. Her breathing was shallow, but there. They could do this. Kya pushed him. She forced him to dig deeper. Be better.

Slowly, Tenzin knelt down and slid his arms around her knees and her back. Kya mustered the strength to swing her arm around his neck, clinging limply. She winced as they stood. He couldn’t imagine the amount of pain she was in. She was probably in shock. She had to be, to still be awake.

They started down the mountain on foot, back towards the glowing city below. For most of their lives, she’d been taller than him. Only in the last few years had that shifted. Thank the spirits. It was nearly six o’clock in the morning. The sun would be rising soon, its beams waiting just under the horizon. With every step he felt her body shift and flinch, wholly uncomfortable with the ice cube she’d stuck in her stomach. 

“I’ve got you.” Tenzin whispered. He wasn’t sure if she could even hear him, her eyes glazed over as she stared up at the stars. His jacket was tied around her waist, half-succeeding in protecting the wound.

“I know.” Kya muttered. Her eyes drifted to his shoulder, where the block had fallen and torn his shirt. Below it was likely a small scrape and the forming of a bruise. Tenzin didn’t even feel it. “How is your shoulder?”

“It feels fine.” Tenzin said, honestly. He couldn’t feel it at all. They were nearing the bottom of the mountain now. All they had to do was make it to his grandfather’s house. This was a coordinated attack, they were probably all apprehended by now. His family would be there. They had to be.

“That was really stupid.” Tenzin said, though any hint of a joke fell flat on his tongue. He still didn’t understand why she jumped. Why she picked him.Kya didn’t baby him. She didn’t go easy on him. She wasn’t gentle. He couldn’t picture her killing anyone, and he certainly knew she wouldn’t be dumb enough to get herself killed. She was supposed to stay in her lane.

“No it wasn’t.” Kya muttered.

“The frostbite thing was stupid, then.” Tenzin corrected. A small smile crept across Kya’s face.

“This was a little stupid.” She sighed.

“Glad we agree.” Tenzin mused.

They were close to town now, nearly there. Kanna and Hakoda’s place was picked as the meeting point, the safe point, because of it’s location and it’s legacy. There was an unspoken rule about Kanna’s place. If the attackers knew it, they’d be less inclined to strike. If they didn’t, it was still fairly inconspicuous. It was at the edge of town. Just a few more minutes of walking. They could do it.

“Can you tell June that I love her.” Kya said, suddenly. He was prepared to spend the rest of the walk in silence. There was no wind this morning, meaning he could hear every single step, every heavy crunch on the ice.

“What?” Tenzin blinked, looking down. Kya looked the same. She was paler, with streaks of blood from her hands or his on her face and in her hair. But otherwise, she looked the same. Nothing had changed to spur such confession.

“Just in case.” She muttered.

“You haven’t said it before?” Tenzin said, forcing the joke from his lungs. He was in a mild denial. Maybe he was also in shock. “That’s concerning.” He laughed, flatly.

“You’re funny.” Kya sighed, shakily. She looked back up. The stars were fading, making way for the sun. “You know what I mean.”

“You can tell her yourself.” Tenzin said, walking faster. “Just hang on.”

Chapter Text

Katara, a few hours earlier 

Katara didn’t pace across the floor of then bunker. Her brother said it was the perfect method. Zuko did it, because of that. Her brother thought that if you kept walking you wouldn’t get tired, that if you minimized the amount of time in your turns you could always see them coming, that if you did this and that and this and not that, nothing bad would happen. If you prepared, it would go your way.

Katara didn’t think it was that simple. She never did, really. But she certainly didn’t think so now. It was a good strategy for him, it kept him awake and in the zone. Katara stood in one place. In this bunker, she picked the wall across from where Senna sat with Korra in her lap. They were in her sight, as was the ladder that led down to their little one-room situation. She didn’t have a philosophy about standing. She liked being comfortable in the space. She liked being a step and an arms-length from everyone in the room. She liked being able to watch. That felt like enough of a reason.

They’d spent the first hour downstairs praying. It wasn’t clear when they stopped, they never really did, only made it quieter. Senna managed to fall asleep after a while. Korra woke up at one point, but was hushed back down and given more herbs. It wasn’t the best, but it wouldn’t hurt her long term. And being awake for this would be worse. That, Katara was certain of. She knew from experience.

After the prayer, when it was clear Senna would be alright and needed to sit with herself, Zuko started to pace. He never asked Katara to join him, though he wouldn’t have objected. After a while he stood with her, the nervous energy cleared from his system. The floorboards creaked above them, a sign that Suki and Sokka were still making their rounds.

Zuko rested against the wall beside her, bumping her shoulder with his arm. 

“So,” he started, his voice just above a whisper. “Kya and Tenzin seem to be getting along better.”

Senna was within earshot, but she seemed to be trying to rest, her eyes pinched tight together. There was only one candle lit, so Katara could barely make out Zuko’s face. The flame rose and fell with the sleeping Avatar’s breath. Katara watched it. They weren’t prepared for the kind of power that had settled in her.

“It seems like it.” She sighed, bumping his arm back. “I’m glad they have each other. I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“We wouldn’t let that happen.” Zuko said, quickly. His eyes were also on the flame, and slowly his breath began to sync with it. She wasn’t sure if that was conscious.

“I know, but you know how he gets.” Katara sighed, hugging her arms to her chest. 

Zuko had always been the friend she didn’t know she needed. At first, it felt like it was just chance. He’d be the one to find her when she was having a bad time at a party or be the one to ask for a consult when she was feeling lonely. But overtime, it stopped being happenstance. He started showing up. And she started letting him in. In time, she forced him to do the same. He became the kind of person that could hold this stuff.

After Aang passed, that didn’t falter. All of their friends fell apart and tried to put themselves back together again. They’d all loved him with a fervor. With something that couldn’t be contained. It hit them all in different ways.

Sokka and Suki stepped up with the kids, pouring their grief into being the thing Aang and Katara’s children could hold onto. Mai did the things no one thinks of. She helped with the little stuff. She did chores around the house and gave Katara the confidence to make a space that was just her own. Toph kept Republic City alive. She didn’t let the dream die with Aang. Katara wasn’t sure if that was her plan, at least at first. All she knew is that she did. Toph and Aang were the keepers of each other’s secrets. She held his pain, and he held hers. She was supposed to find him in this life, and now he’d left it.

Zuko did something else. Zuko did not scaffold. He did not keep Bumi’s things or visit Kya at her new post after she went back to work. He didn’t move Tenzin into Air Temple Island or buy Katara new kitchen supplies or force the Republic City Council to continue to work in the image of the Republic laid out by its founders. He was not a life raft. He was not the beacon or the buoy or the light at the end of the tunnel.Zuko was drowning, right beside her.

Zuko sat in the grief, and did not ask her to change. Almost immediately, Katara felt a pressure to move on from the rest of the world. There was work to be done. A new Avatar to find. A social order to maintain. And the thing was, she could do it. Without Zuko, she probably would have. She would’ve pushed it all down, like she’d done before. She would’ve been brilliant, their shining light and beacon and buoy, like she’d done before. She’d turn her pain into action, her grief into the new wave of change and promise and hope, like she’d done before. She was Katara, Master Waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe, Hero of the Hundred Years War. She could do anything.

But she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to ignore it. And force it down. And dismiss it. Because it happened. And it was awful. And it wasn’t fair. She wanted to sit in her grief. She wanted it to wash over her in big, glorious waves. She wanted to cry and scream and make bad art and be challenging. She’d earned it.

Zuko stayed in the South Pole for a long time after Aang died. Katara wasn’t sure how long, exactly. The first year was a complete blur. At first, everyone was there. And after Tenzin and Lin’s graduation, everyone had to stay. Zuko went back with her, though. He stayed even after Mai went back. He slept in her new guest room. They made the meals from her childhood. They drank a little too much. They sang songs, terribly. They cried. They talked about Aang a lot. He was in every other breath. His loss was suffocating them both. Together, somehow, they found a way to breathe that didn’t make them feel like they were dying.

Katara wouldn’t have felt a thing in that first year if she hadn’t gone back home. Zuko was a big part of that. He was, and would remain, the friend she didn’t know she needed.

The Fire Lord turned to her, his eyes practically glowing in the candle light.

“Mai and I were thinking of taking some time to travel, after Tenzin’s wedding.” He started, speaking softly. Katara already knew what was coming next. “There are a few spots that I’ve wanted to visit for a while. You should come with us.”

Katara’s eyes narrowed. He did this, every so often. They all did. They didn’t like her being alone out here. It was sweet, if not irritating.

“Your council isn’t going to be happy about that.” She mused aloud, instead of answering.

“They won’t.” Zuko shrugged. He couldn’t pretend to care. It was more exhaustion that came from the thought of his council than anything else. Katara clicked her tongue.

“Izumi’s ready, Zuko.” Katara whispered back.

In the last four years, it had become more and more clear that the crown was not fulfilling their friend in the way it once had. He’d brought his country into an era of peace and acceptance. He’d built something sustainable, something good. And he’d done it with Aang.

“She’s too young to take it on.” Zuko shook his head.

“This is what she’s worked for.” Katara urged.

“I can’t ask this of her.” He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was not the first time they’d had this conversation, though never this directly. “Not just because I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“I disagree. I think doing this would let your people know that our peace is not stringent on the people who created it. Which they could use right now.” Katara argued. “Also I think you deserve to put it down. You’ve done you’re time, Zuko.” She brought a hand to his shoulder. “You’re allowed.”

Zuko didn’t say anything at first, only leaned back against the cool stone.

“You know,” he started, speaking in his native language. Katara raised an eyebrow at the change. He was hoping Senna wouldn’t know it. “I could say the same about you.”

Katara followed his eyes to the sleeping Avatar. She stiffened.

“That’s different.” She muttered.

“Is it?”

“Very.” Katara said, firmly. She tightened her arms across her chest. It was. Teaching Korra felt cosmically natural. It was the first thing that made sense in a long time.

“Okay.” Zuko clicked his tongue. “What if we make a deal. I’ll retire when she completes her waterbending training. Then we’ll go on a trip.”

“I’m not third wheeling you and Mai around the world.” Katara wrinkled her nose.

“Is that not what me and Sokka did for most of our teens and twenties with you and Aang?” Zuko argued, a small smile creeping across his face.

“I’m a widow now, so it’s far more tragic.” Katara decided. Zuko shook his head.

“Just think about it.” He asked, honestly.

“If I say maybe, will you stop talking?” Katara asked, half-joking.

Zuko kept talking, but something pulled at the edge of Katara’s concentration. It was a flutter, the feeling of rushing water. She closed her eyes. They were surrounded by ice. The ice would work with her. But she wasn’t the only one. Far from it. Katara pressed her hand against the wall. It was made of stone and plaster, but the ice was beyond it. It would work with her. She felt it there, calling to her senses in a way she could never explain.

They weren’t alone here. She could feel them too now. The attackers weren’t going fast, but they were coming, drilling through the ice. They’d been caught.

Shit.

Zuko stood beside her, waiting with a patient frown. Any allusion of calm had dissipated. Senna hadn’t noticed their concern yet. Katara turned, and in one look, he understood.

“Senna.” Katara said, turning to her. She looked up with wide eyes. “Okay, you’re going to go upstairs and lock you and Korra in the back room, okay?” Behind them, Zuko started up the ladder, unlocking the door and banging for them to open it. Katara brought her to her feet. “Right now.”

“What’s happening?” Senna asked, her eyes darting across the room. Nothing had changed, at least nothing she could see.

“They found us.” Katara sighed. She helped readjust Korra, placing her on Senna’s back and tying her back into her slip. “We need to move. Now.”

“Okay.” Senna nodded. For the first time this evening, she didn’t push back. Katara was relieved, but she also almost wished she had. A piece of her had broken tonight, the part that believed the world would be kinder to her daughter than it had been to her. That was the promise of her generation. They didn’t fight in the war, but their parents did. They grew up in a place that was war-torn. Their children were not supposed to know that kind of pain. Korra would. Senna learned that tonight.

Katara pulled Senna into a firm hug. Over her shoulder, Katara saw a glimpse of Korra’s sleeping face. She was so young. So new. She looked a little like Kya when she was a baby. A wisp of brown hair and a beautiful rounded nose. Katara let go, squeezing both of Senna’s shoulders, hoping that some of her steadiness would seep into the young mother.

“We will protect her.” Katara said. “I promise.”

Senna nodded cautiously and started up the ladder. Katara turned back to the wall, pressing a hand against the smooth stone. Zuko was behind her, waiting for her call.

“Talk to me guys!” Sokka yelled from the floor above. He was peering down the hole into the bunker. Suki was likely still upstairs, protecting the room that Korra and Senna would be in. It was apart of their protocol. They had a backup plan for their backup plans.

“They’re tunneling in.” Katara answered. She stepped back from the wall, uncapping her water pouches. “We have a minute, maybe two.”

“Anytime now, Sokka.” Zuko said, standing in position beside her.

“What you think I’m going to jump down this ladder?” Sokka scoffed. He was descending slowly, taking his time one each rung. “I have a bad knee!”

“I think this is the time to risk it.” Zuko yelled back.

“You risk it.”

“If you’re done bickering,” Katara yelled, over them both. “We’re about to have company”

“We can multitask.” Sokka joked, getting in position beside her. “What’s our move?”

“Bait them,” Katara had already decided. This was her call, her mission. Though Sokka held the contingency plans, Katara was in charge of this part. This was her domain. “Get them up the ladder and away from the house.”

“No chance we can just collapse this in?” Sokka asked, looking around the bunker. It was tempting.

“There’s at least one water bender.” She sighed. “They’d get out.”

“Wonderful.” He muttered.

Right on schedule, the wall began to shake and crack. Dust fell from the ceiling as the entire room shook, snuffing out the candle. By the time Zuko lit the room with a flame in his palm, the attackers were drilling through, destroying the wall as they waited in baited breath. Zuko was bouncing beside her, itching to attack. They had to take their time here, he knew that. Still, his habit of striking first, asking questions later still reared its head from time to time.

With a loud crack, they made their way in. Katara squinted through the debris as rocks and ice flew everywhere. When the dust settled, two figures emerged. The first was a young woman with long black hair hanging down. She was small with piercing features and stark dark eyes. It was clear that she’d been the one drilling through, as in place of arms there were two streams of water.

The other figure, was a man. He was strong, steady on his feet even as he stepped through rubble. Between the fact that his hands were still in gloves and there was a sword strapped across his back, Katara  would bet he was a nonbender. She glanced at her brother, who was making his own assessment.

“Master Katara. It’s an honor, truly.” The woman stepped out of their hole and onto the stone of the bunker. She bowed, slightly, though her voice was slick and cutting. “Because of you I was allowed to learn our craft.”

“Glad to see you’re using your skills wisely.” Katara spat back.

“You know what we’re here for.” The man said, stepping out to join his friend. He took down his hood, revealing his green eyes and dark brown head of hair. They were both in Water Tribe garb, but Katara would bet neither were local. “If you give us the Avatar now we can save everyone a lot of trouble.”

“She’s not here.” Sokka shrugged. His hand was tight across his sword, though he kept it sheathed. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“We can still talk this out.” Zuko said, taking a small step forward. “Trust me, killing the Avatar-”

“Oh, Ming-Hua, they don’t know who we are. Well now I’m embarrassed. ” The man interrupted. His voice was even, steady. He shook his head. “My name is Zaheer, and this is my friend. And we don’t want to kill her. We want to train her. Make her see her true purpose, that can only happen in the Order of the Red Lotus.”

Katara stiffened. She’d heard rumors, whispers of what happened to the fractured White Lotus over the years, but never had any confirmation. This was not a group of restless people or an impulsive decision. This was an organized threat.

“Oh thank the spirits.” Sokka said, sarcastically. “They only want to kidnap her and make her evil, not kill her.” He drawled. “Well then by all means.”

“You mock me, but your words deceive you.” Zaheer countered, taking another step in. He wasn’t deterred. “You see what we’re doing as evil, what you’re doing as good.” He motioned to himself. The way his sleeve sagged told Katara he had a set of throwing stars in each. “But the world is far more complex than your black and white thinking. You trick yourselves into thinking that order is balance, when it is only control. The true order, is freedom.”

“That sounds more like chaos.” Zuko countered. Their new guests were pressing in, believing they were gaining the offense as they played right into where Katara wanted them to be. They’d attack soon, they could all feel it. The mounting tension in the air giving them away. 

“From the spire of your golden tower, yes it would, Lord Zuko.” Zaheer smirked. Sokka gave the signal, almost imperceptibly, but Katara caught it. They were ready. Zaheer stood back, preparing to unsheath his sword. He grinned. “You’ll come to see the truth. In time.”

Zaheer unsheathed his sword, making a big swing in their direction, but Sokka was prepared. Their blades clattered together, glinting in Zuko’s firelight. Ming-Hua launched at Zuko, who deflected her move quickly and tossed another back. They were in too close of quarters for this to last. They needed to get out into the open, away from Korra.

Katara made the next move, hitting Zaheer, taunting him as she ran back to the ladder. The hope was that he’d follow, thinking they would split up to protect the Avatar. Thankfully, he took the bait, following Katara as Sokka and Zuko continued to fight Ming-Hua.   

Zaheer was quick, practically flying up the ladder after her. Katara bolted out the door, catching a glimpse of Suki in her periphery. Zaheer didn’t notice her, running after the water bender, sword out. If they were lucky, he would be assuming they were going to where she was hiding. Katara ran like she was running to the Avatar, her boots pounding on the ice, kicking snow up around her. He was fast, but his hubris clouded his judgement. Katara knew this kind of person well. His fighting style was precise, but not intuitive. He was self taught, only learning from masters later in his life- likely when he joined the Red Lotus. Whatever he was doing before he’d done alone. That bred resilience. That pushed the limit. He wouldn’t hesitate, she could read it on his face.

But he was someone who’d become comfortable with winning, too. He was in charge of this operation, or at least he thought himself that way. She could use that. Zaheer sent out a wave of throwing stars. He had good aim, but Katara was faster. She lept up, letting the ice push her into the sky. As she landed, she sent a wall of ice towards Zaheer, which he cut through with his sword.

They stood in the tundra, facing one another. Behind him, she could make out their safe house. She had to keep him busy, and hope that Zuko and Sokka would do the same with Ming-Hua. Separating them was their best bet, it didn’t mean she liked it.

“If you surrender now, no one has to get hurt.” Katara offered, one last time.

“I was about to say the same.” Zaheer smirked, gesturing to her with his sword. “From my vantage point you’re the only one of us with anything to loose.”

“Was that a threat?” Katara scoffed. She dove at him, trying to catch his feet in the ice, but he evaded her. “You think I should fear you because you want to kill my family?” She asked, again, her voice cutting. Zaheer launched at her again with his sword, but she jumped back. “Do you know how many people have tried that?”

“You shouldn’t underestimate us.” Zaheer sneered, catching himself as she pushed him back. Katara wanted to create some distance. She brought up a wall of ice, pushing herself back and up to gain higher ground.

“Trust me, I’m not.” Katara said. She let the water spin around her, creating discs of ice from the stream and launching them towards him. He evaded some and cut through other’s with his sword. One caught him by surprise and though he managed to slice through it, it nicked his eyebrow. Katara smirked. That would scar.

Zaheer brought a hand to his face. That moment of hesitation was all she needed to push him back onto the defense. She kept the discs coming, walking closer and closer so that they became more difficult to evade.

“Let me explain.” Katara started again, her voice breaking through the sound of whirring water and metal hitting ice. She was close enough now to see a small alarm in his eyes. “You’re not special, Zaheer. You preach about freedom, yet all I can hear is the whine of someone who wants more.” Zaheer stepped back, finding his balance. His eye was pinched shut because of the cut, but he was starting to adapt. Katara kept coming. “You’re not the first person to disguise a moral obligation with your own personal desire for power and you won’t be the last.”

Zaheer found his footing, evading her blasts and pulling a smaller knife from his leg. He tossed it at her with intense precision. It grazed her shoulder, but didn’t hit anything more. Katara bit her tongue, not giving him the satisfaction of her pain.

“I could say the same about you,” Zaheer said, standing taller with satisfaction. He was smiling, but it looked a lot more like gnashing his teeth. He mock-saluted. “Oh great Master Katara. The healer. You preach peace, you ban blood bending, you build hospitals, yet you married an Avatar. A being created to enforce order. To control through violence.”

Katara evaded his next knife, catching it in ice and hurling back towards him.

“Because what you’re doing right now is so peaceful?” She asked.

“Some tasks must be done, even if I don’t care for them. A means to an end.” Zaheer argued. She’d put some distance back between them, but he wasn’t going to let it keep for long. He started back, running towards her and evading her moves. “Your husband certainly understood that. Aang was pledged to nonviolence, yet he had to solve his problems with force quite often.”

Katara’s heart jumped at the mention of her husband’s name. For a split second, she faltered.  Zaheer lept over her attack, flipping backwards and landing on his feet. Katara’s eyes narrowed, composing herself. He’d studied her form, that much was clear. She’d need to get more creative.

“Aang didn’t kill people.” Katara argued, stepping back to her feet. Her head tilted to him. “Can you say the same?”

“You claim not to yourself, right?” Zaheer frowned, his face twisting. “It makes you feel higher than the rest of us, who aren’t given as many choices.”

“There’s always a choice.” Katara insisted. She needed him to keep talking while she thought of a new approach. He was experienced with fighting waterbenders, had likely been training with his partner. His own style was inspired by both Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation styles of non-bending fighting. He was likely a child of the diaspora, a member of their very Republic. He was most comfortable when he was on the offense. 

Katara smiled. That was her in. He needed to let his guard down. He needed to be on the offense. She needed to fight like an air bender.

Katara jumped, landing on her hands and swinging her legs low. As her legs spun around, she kicked the snow up around them, creating a thick cloud of fog.

“Death is a natural part of our world.” Zaheer countered, diving through the fog. Katara was ready for him. With every swing, she evaded, but didn’t fight back. He couldn’t see much in the fog, making each move more impulsive and less precise. Still, he felt in control. “Denying that is to be out of sync. These lines… it’s  why we must do this.” Zaheer continued.

Katara let him get close. Zaheer was an arms-length from her, his sword even closer. He grinned in unearned satisfaction. 

“You are a talented fighter, you live up to your legacy.” Zaheer lectured. Katara tried not to roll her eyes. “But your hesitation, your vow not to kill, that weakness is what’s prohibited any of you from reaching your full potential.”

Katara smirked. He was a talented fighter, but only that. He had no idea what he’d done. She almost wanted to laugh.

“Wanna bet?”

Katara waited until he reached back with his sword, ready to swing hard. Only then, in the moment just as he was about to strike, did she act. Katara dropped into the snow, avoiding his blade. With his weight pushed forward, she took the opportunity to grab his back leg, encasing it in ice. Zaheer lost balance, realizing his mistake. Katara caught his other leg, driving them further into the ice. She grabbed his wrists with her hands, leaping back and dragging them with her. His hands were frozen behind him, his legs buried in the snow. He was trapped.

Katara picked up his sword, which had clattered on the ice beside him. She inspected it carefully. It was beautifully made with steady hands and great care.

“You made this, didn’t you?” She asked, examining the characters etched into the side. It was the Earth Kingdom’s language, as she predicted.

“What?” Zaheer sputtered. He was trying to get out, but he couldn’t.

“You should’ve stuck with this. You could’ve made a name for yourself.” Katara continued, gesturing to the sword. She tossed it to the ground away from them. “That kind of patience isn’t something that can be taught.”

“This isn’t over.” Zaheer said, through gritted teeth. “As we speak my team is-”

“Your team is what?” Katara scoffed. She put a hand on her hip. “Was their plan better than yours? For their sake I hope so.”

“You have no idea-” He said, struggling against her hold.

“Oh, but I do.” Katara said, cooly. She approached him, leaning down to his eye level. She brought water into her hand and made a sharp spike, a blade of her own. “You may see my restraint as weakness but trust me it would be so easy to do this.” Katara’s voice was cutting. She brought the blade in front of his face, letting his fate dangle in front of his eyes. “That is what makes me stronger.”

“You won’t do it.” He spat. Katara laughed, dryly.

“You need to do more research.” She said, standing up and letting the water fall in her hand. “I try not to kill. I fought in a war, Zaheer. I spent decades protecting my family from people like you.” She turned back to him, her eyes glowing still in the waning glow of the moon. “Look around. We’re in the middle of the Arctic right now. There’s nowhere for you or your friends to run I couldn’t find you.”

Katara picked up his sword again, gesturing to her attacker. He’d thrown her husband’s name in her face. He’d acted like he understood something she didn’t. He tried to kill the Avatar.

“Go on,” Katara said, taking a step closer. “Give me a reason.”

Zaheer turned away, his bravado all but gone. She wasn’t going to do it, but she didn’t like the way he’d talked. Like he knew them. Like he was playing the long game.

“Katara!”

A voice rang out through the tundra. Katara looked from Zaheer, back to the house. Suki was bounding towards them.

“Are you okay?” Katara yelled back. “What happened?”

“We got her.” Suki said, slowing to a stop as she approached them. “We’re secured. Are you okay?”  Her eyes darted to the sword in Katara’s hands, an unusual sight, and back to Zaheer. Her eyebrows quirked with curiosity, but she dashed it.

“Fine.” Katara sighed, tossing the sword into the ice with a clatter. “I got him.”

Zaheer laughed from his chains.

“I knew it.” He sneered. “You never had it in-”

Suki hit him in the back of the head. He wouldn’t die, but the pressure point she tapped would keep him out cold for the next day. Katara blinked.

“He seemed preachy.” Suki shrugged.

“Let’s get going.” Katara said, shaking her head.

Suki brought platinum cuffs, which she strapped to Zaheer’s arms and legs. Together, they carried him back to the house.

In the safe house, it seemed that the boys had similar luck. The house was scuffed up and had new water stains and scorch marks, but was otherwise intact. The other attacker, Ming-Hua, was unconscious and in cuffs in the corner. They set Zaheer in the opposite side of the room. Zuko had lit the fireplace, where a fairly distressed Senna now sat with Korra. Katara let out a small sigh of relief.

“Everyone okay?” Katara asked, coming in.

“We’re okay.” Zuko huffed. He and Sokka were around the fire, one slumped over the other. “Well, okay-ish.

“He dislocated his shoulder.” Sokka explained. He’d broken out the first aid kit and was stabilizing his shoulder across Zuko’s chest.

“That makes it sounds like it’s my fault,” Zuko huffed. “It was little miss octopus arms over there.”

Katara shook her head. She kneeled down beside them, glancing over all three of them for any other injuries. Besides the shoulder, Zuko seemed unscathed, aside from a few new bruises. Sokka had a scrape across his chin, but seemed okay. Suki was similarly relatively unscathed.

“I mean I didn’t dislocate my shoulder and I also fought her, so.” Sokka smirked, propping up his friend.

“You’re a real class act, you know that.” Zuko hissed. There wasn’t a bite behind his words, though. They were all still buzzing, a complex mixture of relief and anxiety coating each of their frames.

“Okay, breath in, and out.” Katara instructed, getting her hands in place around Zuko’s shoulder. “Okay on three.” Zuko nodded. Katara pressed hard, preparing.“One-”

With a single pop, Zuko’s shoulder was back in.

“Ah!” Zuko gritted his teeth. He took a stifled breath.  “That was not three.”

“She never does it on three.” Suki mused, behind her. She’d gone back out to light their flare, signaling to the White Lotus where they were and that they needed assistance.

“Alright, you’ll be okay for now.” Katara said, inspecting his shoulder. The water around her hands was now serving a very different purpose. “But you still need to get it checked.”

“I’m okay.” Zuko huffed, rolling it back and getting a feel for the rotation. “I’m good.”

“So,” Senna cleared her throat, getting their attention. Katara straightened. She had no idea how much of this she saw. Hopefully none of it. Her hands were shaking, but she spoke with an even tone. “What happens now? Can we go back home?”

Katara frowned, and made a face at her brother.

“Not until we can confirm the threat is neutralized.” Sokka explained.

“How do we do that?” She asked, an ache finding its way back into her voice.

“We wait for a call from the others and from Toph.” Suki sighed, stretching out her arms. “We gather information and we assess.”

“For now, we go to the next safe house.” Katara added.

Senna’s face fell, slightly, but she nodded.

Quickly, Katara and her team gathered their things and pulled out their map. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but they’d been compromised. They needed to keep moving. There was another safe house, one that was in town. It wasn’t the first choice, but it was best for now. It would be harder to sneak up on them closer to town without rising suspicion, especially as the sun got higher in the sky.

Though they hadn’t slept, Katara felt wide awake. She was running on pure adrenaline, but that had always gotten her far. Her task was checking the back rooms and gathering any supplies they’d left behind. She was so wrapped in her own thoughts, that she didn’t hear Sokka come in until he was beside her.

“Hey.” Sokka smiled, softly.

“Hey.” Katara nodded.

The sun was just beginning to rise, coating the room with a soft glow. They’d had the blinds shut before, but there was no point now. 

“The Red Lotus.” Sokka echoed. The syllables sounded wrong on his tongue, like he was spitting them out. “I didn’t realize they were so… organized.”

“Neither did I.” Katara frowned. She tightened the last strap on her pack.

“I don’t like that.” Sokka frowned. He was fiddling with the strap of his own pack, tying and retying the knot. “I don’t like being surprised.”

“I know.” Katara nodded. “Neither do I.”

She was still buzzing, eager to keep moving and push Zaheer’s taunting words out of her mind. Before she could go, Sokka reached out, putting a hand on her pack.

“Wait.” Sokka said, gently. His eyes flickered to her shoulder, where a small spot of red had coated her torn jacket. She’d forgotten. He frowned at the stain. “Just let me wrap it if you aren’t going to heal it.”

“It’s fine.” Katara huffed, yanking her pack out of his hands. Undeterred, Sokka poked her wound with a gloved hand, causing her to pull away. “Hey!” She hissed.

“Fine?” Sokka raised an eyebrow, somewhat satisfied.

Katara glared at her brother. She wanted to kill him. But instead, she conceded. It wasn’t worth it to bleed across the tundra.

“Be quick.” She said, clicking her tongue.

Sokka nodded. He took a bandage out of his pack as she peeled off her coat. She could heal this in a few minutes, but they didn’t have that kind of time right now. Or at least she didn’t have the mental space to think about herself.

Sokka worked quickly, gently pressing the cut together as he put a cotton pad on it and tied the cloth around her arm. Katara looked out the window. In the distance, she began to make out her village, just waking up in the sleepy sunrise. She felt a small pull, the moon leaving the sky.

“Something feels off.” Katara mused. Sokka looked up, understanding washing over his face. She wasn’t talking about the cut or the sun. Zaheer had talked about his team. They had no idea how many people that could mean. How many people wanted the Avatar gone. How many they could know.

She felt it in her bones, a gnawing anxious feeling. The reason she was buzzing. Restless. It was highly, highly unlikely that they were the only people attacked.

“I know.” Sokka sighed. He checked the tightness of her bandage, and stood back up. He swung his back against his back. “The only thing we can do now is stick to the plan.”

“Right.” Katara said, picking up her own pack.

“They know what to do.” Sokka said, squeezing her other shoulder. He wouldn’t say her kids names, not now. “They can do this.”

Katara nodded. In her head, she gave a silent prayer.

They knew what to do. That’s what scared her.

Chapter Text

Bumi

Bumi was never good at the waiting. In fact, he’d made it a habit to be the one they were waiting for. He was the one his parents had to worry about. The one his father waited up for, ensuring that he got home safe if he missed curfew. The one his mother prayed for at night when he told her he was going off to sea.

When he was a teenager and he got hit, hard, his family spent days not knowing if he was alive or dead. He wasn’t proud of it. It wasn’t a good look. But regardless of his guilt, it meant he didn’t have a lot practice with this. He was never the one waiting.

Lin and Bumi arrived to Kanna’s first.

It made sense, considering the distance that Tonraq, Kya and Tenzin would have to go. Hakoda and Kanna lived at the edge of town, their house marking the beginning of the village. Bumi and Lin had walked all along the coast, evading the town, that was just waking up. They didn’t need to raise suspicion, freak anyone out who didn’t need to know. This was a precarious time, the world didn’t need more fodder for their panic. They’d make it back to the house just as the sun was beginning to rise. He felt it on his back, creeping up the horizon.

Lin got to work quickly. She started a fire, propped Bumi’s leg up on a pillow and positioned herself at the window. Hakoda was out, patrolling the village with the White Lotus. Kanna was staying with friends, just in case anyone tried to mess with her home. Though Bumi doubted anyone would try, Kanna’s house was sacred. It was a haven.

Bumi watched the fire. His leg was screaming at him, howling a familiar tune. Lin splinted it, but other than that they couldn’t do much. Any other medicine would make him drowsy, and he couldn’t fall asleep until he knew what happened to his siblings. He wasn’t good at waiting.

His mind began to wander. The wave of panic had somewhat subsided, giving way to more grounded, concrete thoughts about his reality. They made him miss the spiral. One memory in particular kept probing in his mind.

In the United Forces, there is a story. It’s a cautionary tale, really. In the inaugural year of the UF, a family of fighters joined. Mom, dad and their two adult kids, a son and a daughter. They all went on the same boat. They wanted to fight together for the Republic. The first year of the UF was dicey, fights were common and many of the boats were still finding their footing. When their boat was inevitably attacked, the father broke protocol to protect their son, who got hit badly. Then the mother broke it to protect the father, and the daughter to protect the mother. Only the son survived. From then on, no two family members were allowed on the same boat.

When Bumi joined, he found that rule a bit divisive. His family fought together all the time. It’s how they won the war. Having more skin in the game never seemed like a terrible thing. His parents certainly made it look easy.

He didn’t think that anymore. Instead, all he could think about was the son. The son who’d probably thought he was going to die, and who lived in the place of his family. Bumi realized, as he stared into the flames, that he didn’t know what happened to the son. The story ends with the death of his family. Because that’s the end. That is the end for the son too. They died in his place. That was the story.

Bumi turned away from the fire.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Bumi said, suddenly. Lin almost flinched at the noise. Neither had spoken since they left their safe house. He surprised himself too.

Lin broke away from the window and turned to him. The adrenaline and the panic of the last few hours seemed to have worn off and given way to a new exhaustion in them both. She met him with tired eyes.

“It’s okay.” Lin shrugged.

“Thanks for getting us back.” Bumi continued, earnestly. He tried to shift his leg, wincing as he sent a wave of pain up from his knee. Lin’s eyebrows knitted together. “You saved me.”

“No problem.” She insisted, turning back to the window.

“I mean it. I-”

“Okay, yes I get it.” Lin huffed. Her ears were pink. “Don’t get soft on me.” She mumbled.

“For sure.” Bumi grinned. Some things never changed. Lin was not a feelings person. She made Tenzin look like he wore his heart on his sleeve.

Lin drummed her fingers against the window ledge.

“They’re taking a long time.” Lin muttered. Her eyes were glued to the mountain, looking for any sign of life.

“They’ve always been slow walkers.” Bumi joked, though it fell flat on his tongue. He sighed. “They’ll get here.”

Lin didn’t say anything else. There wasn’t anything else to say.

Bumi was not good at waiting.

Tenzin

The walk to their grandfather’s house was tantalizingly long. It was agonizing. Tenzin felt Kya getting heavier and heavier as she loosened her grip. His hands would get warmer as the blood spilled form her and onto him, and then colder as it froze in the air. His feet trudged on, one foot in front of the other. He knew the way to Kanna and Hakoda’s  by heart. It was as much a home as any place. He could get there with his eyes closed.

Tenzin talked to her every few minutes, getting sparse and sparser responses. It felt like they’d been walking for hours, when actually it was probably only twenty minutes. At some point Tonraq caught up to them. He offered to carry her, but Tenzin refused.

The walk felt like it was in slow motion. Everything that happened once they went inside happened twice as fast.

Tonraq opened the door and Tenzin practically ran in, a newfound strength getting him through the doorway. A wave of warmth hit him hard, which reminded him he’d tied his jacket around his sister. He knew how to regulate heat, but it seemed he’d forgotten. He was freezing. The next thing that hit him, was his brother.

“Oh my- what happened?” Bumi yelled. He tripped over himself as he ran up to them. Tenzin half-noticed that his leg was in a splint. Slowly, Tenzin sat down. He barely registered himself doing it, but suddenly they were both on the floor.  He was still holding their sister close, unwilling to put her down.

“Kya? Kya!” Bumi screamed. What happened? Tenzin, what-”

Tenzin felt his ears start to burn. A wave of shame ran over him. Bumi was kneeling over them, cradling their sister’s head in his hands. It was painted with streaks of blood, probably from Tenzin’s hands. He’d never seen this look on Bumi’s face before. So stricken and horrified. He’d brought him their sister. Their sister who was like this because of him. Because he wasn’t fast enough.

“She got hit by a combustion blast and then gave herself frostbite to slow the bleeding.” Tenzin muttered. His throat was hoarse.

“What?” Lin gawked. He blinked, turning to her. She looked okay, relatively unscathed. Besides Bumi’s leg, it seemed that their team had made it out. Only Tenzin managed to fail.

“It’s experimental…” Kya muttered.

Slowly, Tenzin set her down by the fire, propping her head up with a pillow. There was some small relief, some triumph in getting here. They’d made it. Tenzin sat back on his heels, letting warm air fill his lungs.

“That’s too much blood.” Bumi muttered, peeling his blood-soaked jacket from Kya’s stomach. “Tenzin how much has she lost?”

“A lot?” Tenzin said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He should’ve been tracking that. Bumi would’ve tracked that. “I don’t know. I-It was unclear.” He took a breath. “Where’s mom?”

“She’s not back yet.”

Bumi said it. His voice was fast, the accent they shared, the one they often found ways to hide that was muddled with their father’s ancient intonation and their mother’s harsh syllables and the twang of the Republic all mixed together, was spilling out in full effect.

Tenzin nearly keeled over. His vision started to go fuzzy. He would’ve passed out, if Kya’s hand wasn’t still firmly around his wrist. It had slipped there during the walk, and she hadn’t let go. It was the only thing keeping him here.

“What?” Tenzin screamed. He was louder than he wanted to be. He didn’t care. “Fuck!”

“Well Tonraq can start, can’t he?” Lin offered. She’d grabbed a set of towels from the linen closet, because she was a problem solver and not a sister-murderer, and had pressed them against Kya’s wound. Already, they were turning red.

“He can’t.” Tenzin said, through gritted teeth.

“What?” Bumi said, turning slowly to the water bender. He’d been kneeling across from Tenzin, watching with a pensive frown. Now, all eyes were on him. 

“I’m not trained.” He said. The phrase sounded like it hurt to say, like it had cut up his insides as it crept up his throat. Tenzin hoped it did.

Bumi looked like he’d been punched in the face. And he was someone who got in a lot of fights as a kid. Punching him was a bad idea, even metaphorically. He was not someone who took that and walked away.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bumi roared. If his legs wasn’t injured, Tenzin thought he could’ve lunged at him. “You know how to bend water but you don’t learn how to heal?”

“I- I’m sorry.” Tonraq said, honestly. He put up both hands.

“You should be!” Bumi snapped.

“Guys, she’s cold. Really cold.” Lin said, calling the attention back to Kya. Tenzin put a hand on her forehead and cringed. “She’s hypothermic. That shouldn’t have set in yet. That takes hours.”

“She applied ice inside a wound, it could’ve sped up the process.” Tenzin huffed.

“It’s okay.” Kya whispered, listlessly. Her lips had a small tinge of blue. “It’ll be okay.”

They watched in abject horror as her eyes started to glaze over and her head started to rock to one side. Her hand slipped from his wrist. She was out cold.

“Kya?” Bumi shook her, slightly, but she didn’t budge. “Kya!”

For a fraction of a second, the world stilled. Something took over Tenzin. It was like he was watching the scene play out, watching himself freeze. There was one way that this could go. One story this could become. This could be the day they lost their sister. The day their family, that had already fractured under the pressure of one untimely loss, was shattered into a million pieces.

No.

Tenzin was not as spiritually connected as he let others believe. He didn’t know the spirits in the way his father did. He did not find a comfort in the breeze the way his ancestors had for centuries. He was too tied to this world to find solace in the clouds. He was not a healer like his mother or his sister. He was not a free spirit like his brother or his father. He was not inventive like Sokka or Toph. He didn’t command a room like Suki or Zuko or Lin would, one day. He was someone who thrived in order, in control, in the politics of Republic City and the murky world of international affairs. He was good at being what they needed. He was like a chameleon, morphing into what was necessary. He was a nation of one. A problem solver.

A fixer.

Tenzin blinked. In a second, he was back in his body. He was watching his brother jostle their sister, trying to get her to open her eyes. He was watching Lin’s hands start to shake as the towels got darker and darker.

They needed this to be fixed. They needed someone to take their feelings out of it. Tenzin could do that. He was good at that. He was the person who went to council meetings in his father’s place as he was dying. He gave speeches in his name, over and over. He did interviews and presentations and dinners. He could be whatever people needed him to be, no matter what. It didn’t matter how it felt. He was a nation of one. He could do anything. He was a fixer. 

In the back of his head, a small voice screamed out, panicked in the way a little brother would be for their older sister. Tenzin snuffed it out. There wasn’t enough time. There would be, one day, for all of it. Just not today. That’s not what they needed.

“We need to get her to the tub.” Tenzin said, loudly. Everyone turned to him, their eyes wide with mild surprise. He turned to the water bender, his breath steady. “Tonraq, you’re going to try.”

“I think we should wait for your mother-” Tonraq started.

“Nope. I do not care.” Bumi said, flatly. “I don’t care. We’re doing this plan.”

Tenzin moved to pick up his sister, but Lin put a hand over his.

“Tez.” She said, gently. Her eyes darted to his shoulder. “I can carry her.”

Tenzin followed where her eyes had landed. His shirt had been ripped open to reveal a dark red and purple splotch that had found its way across his collar bone and over his shoulder. The skin hadn’t broken, but it wasn’t pretty, to say the least. He remembered, vaguely, being hit by falling debris before this entire nightmare started.

Before Tenzin had time to response, Lin had gingerly lifted Kya into her arms and hurried down the hall. Tenzin followed, turning on water and filling the tub. They didn’t waste any time with her layers or theirs, meaning everyone - including Kya- was still in their fighting clothes. Tonraq and Bumi came in, one looking far less assured than the other.

“She said something about the decay while we were walking over.” Tenzin explained, steadying himself on the sink. Without pressure on the wound, the water was already turning red. They needed to act fast. "All you have to do is keep it from spreading.”

“Okay.” Tonraq nodded, clearing his throat. He leaned over the tub warily. He put his hands into the water, and took a breath. Slowly, a timid glow appeared. “Okay.” He sighed.

“What can we do?” Lin asked. He was standing above him, monitoring with a hesitant eye.

“Talk to me.” Tonraq said. His voice sounded different now, far calmer than before. The same thing happened to Tenzin’s mother when she healed. It was a good sign. “Tell me about something. Anything. It’ll distract me from… this.

“We can do that. We can do that easy.” Bumi rambled. He was leaning against the tub by Kya’s head, watching her closed eyes with a nervous frown. “I love to talk. I love talking. I mean, what’s there not to love about-”

“Bumi.” Tenzin said, cutting him off.  He wanted to be gentle, but it was harsher than he’d meant it to be. “Who attacked you guys, anyways?”

“A lava bender.” Bumi answered. His eyes were still fixed on Kya. “Between that and your combustion person, it seems they created quite the team.”

“They only sent one to each of us though.” Lin mused, crossing her arms tight. “That doesn’t make sense. If they knew where we were, why not just take us out one at a time so you could stick together?”

“It could be a distraction.” Bumi thought aloud. He slumped against the tub, running a tired hand through his hair. “A way to get us away from-” He caught himself, eyes wide. Tenzin and Lin both tensed. Away from the Avatar. Korra. The child of the man who was very shakily saving their sister’s life. This was not distracting. Bumi cleared his throat, hard. “You know what, probably they just got stretched too think. You know how that is, hard to plan these days, people are so busy…”

Tenzin made a face at Lin, signaling to help get onto another topic. She was on the opposite side of the room, shifting weight from one foot to the other as she wracked her brain. Tenzin tried to think of something, anything to say to distract Tonraq but his mind kept wandering. He couldn’t break from at his sister, the sinking feeling returning. He tried to push it back down, but it wouldn’t budge. He’d failed her. He’d failed. She was here because of him. Because she’d come with him. Why did she do that? Why would she do this?

“Bumi,” Lin said, clearing her throat. Her voice was softer now, encouraging even. “Tonraq’s never heard the story of the time you stole that car.”

“Oh right.” Bumi nodded, slowly. Tenzin could practically see the wheels in his head turning, forcing normalcy into his breath. He sat up straighter. “It’s a classic.”

Bumi began, albeit a little shaky, telling a story he’d told a dozen times over. Tenzin and Lin were in it too, and could chime in from time to time, but nothing could compare to the way his brother could spin a tale. Lin knew that. Telling the story calmed him down, and with it the room. Tonraq seemed to find some sort of stride as he spoke, his shoulders loosing some of their tension as Bumi gained a steadier and steadier breath.

Tenzin turned to Lin, and nodded. She nodded back. It was as close as they would get to thank you and your welcome.

Tenzin was not the only fixer. Lin was too, in her own way. It wasn’t her identity the way it had become Tenzin’s, but she had it too. She didn’t panic when others would, didn’t need to be carried if others couldn’t keep going. She was tough, inside and out. That was their difference, always had been. Tenzin wanted people to think he had it together, Lin just did.

Lin didn’t cry at his father’s funeral. Neither did he. They just stood where they were supposed to stand and spoke when they were supposed to spoke. On that day, it felt like the kindest thing anyone had ever done for him. It was like she was saying, you don’t need to carry this for me, and I won’t make you carry it with me either.

This felt a little like that too. This whole trip did. They wouldn’t talk about it, wouldn’t cry or hold one another. But Lin would stand beside him while he was trying to fix it. And she wouldn’t hold it with him, but she wouldn’t make him carry it alone either.

By the time Bumi finished the story, the mood in the bathroom had shifted from a tunnel-vision-inducing panic to an air of unease. Tonraq had been working for twenty-ish minutes, and nothing had changed in either direction. Tenzin didn’t think that was bad, but he knew enough about healing to know it wasn’t necessarily good either. Lin and Bumi knew it too.

“Are we sure there’s nothing else we can do?” Tenzin asked, breaking the weighted silence that had fallen over them.

“I think I’m holding off the spread but I can’t tell if I’m fixing it.” “I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay, just keep working.” Bumi insisted. He was far less angry than before, but the edge remained in his voice. He turned back to Lin and Tenzin. “They’ve got to get here soon, right? One of them, at least. We’re well past when we were supposed to check-in.” 

“Unless they were also attacked.”  Tenzin said, without thinking. He blanched, meeting Bumi’s warning eyes. They needed Tonraq to stay focused. “Which probably they weren’t. Because you were. And we were. So.” He lied.

Their fragile peace was faltering. Though he hadn’t said anything, Tenzin watched as Tonraq tensed in front of him. If he made even the smallest mistake, it could be over.

Tenzin picked at his torn shirt, fraying the already singed edges. Katara wasn’t here, which means that their base was attacked and they fought them off, or they were attacked and they didn’t. Either way, she wasn’t here and she wasn’t going to be here. They needed a new plan.

“Okay.” Lin muttered, stepping off of the wall and running a tired hand through her hair. Tenzin raised an eyebrow. “We need a new plan.”

“We need my mom.” Bumi huffed, slouching back against the tub. He winced as he moved, his leg twisting involuntarily. Tenzin frowned. He couldn’t believe he was this coherent.

Lin hesitated. For a fraction of a second. Tenzin caught it. He watched as she tensed, fidgeting with her shirt, twisting the frayed edge between her fingers. He met her eyes.

People used to say that his parents had their own special language. That they could communicate without speaking. That in a single look, they could have an entire conversation. It was the kind of thing Tenzin would’ve dismissed, if he hadn’t seen it himself. They really could just talk in a look. In one purse of their lips or one crinkle of an eye, they could say it all. Tenzin and his siblings found it mildly irritating, if not slightly isolating. That was, until he realized he could do it with someone too. With Lin. It was slow, something that happened overtime and habituation. It wasn’t a symbol of love or something spirit-sent, it was because they spent nearly every day together for nineteen years. It was a habit. It wasn’t something he could shake.

Lin made a face. She met his eyes with a rare uncertainty, the admittance of something she’d previously prepared to keep secret. Tenzin’s eyes widened, connecting the dots. As if confirming his suspicions, Lin nodded, silently.

Quietly, Lin and Tenzin stepped just outside of the door. Bumi noticed, but didn’t think much of it, turning back to Kya.

“You know. You know where they are.” Tenzin asked, his voice just above a whisper as they shut the door.  “Are you sure?”

“I looked at the notes.” Lin shrugged. “I know it’s against the rules but-”

“We had no backup plan.” Tenzin said, finishing her thought. They were close together, neither able to stray too far from the door. He rubbed his shoulder, absent-mindedly. “If they attacked us then they definitely attacked them.”

“I’ll check both safe houses, the first and the backup.” Lin nodded. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, like she did when she was nervous. "I would've gone earlier but I- it was against protocol and I thought they'd be back, they were supposed to be back and I-"

Without thinking, Tenzin pulled Lin into a hug. She tensed at first, but slowly she relaxed into it, finding the embrace that they’d perfected in the last nineteen years. He’d never felt so grateful to someone. Where he’d failed, she’d succeeded. She’d picked up the slack. She’d carried it.

“Thank you.” Tenzin said, his voice muffled by her shirt. Pinpricks started to form in his eyes, dampening the spot on her shoulder. “Thank you, so much.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Lin said, gruffly, as they let go.

It was a little awkward, but that was okay. Tenzin would be okay with that. Though she was right, there was no certainty that anyone would be back in time, but for the first time since they came through the door, Tenzin had hope. Real, genuine hope.

“Okay.” He took a breath. “Be safe.”

“You too.” Lin smiled.

With a quick wave, she’d gathered her things and bolted out the door. Tenzin turned back to the bathroom, slipping back inside silently.

“Where’s Lin?” Bumi asked, turning. He could always hear when he was coming, he was the same with their father.

“She went to get Katara.” Tenzin explained.

“How-” Bumi started, his eyebrows knitting together as it dawned on him. “She knew.” He said, eyes wide.

“She likes a backup plan.” Tenzin shrugged. Bumi broke into a smile.

“That she does.” He laughed, his voice flooded with pride. “Wow. Lin Beifong, a rule breaking liar. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Neither did I.” Tenzin mused.

Slowly, he made his way over to the tub. If Tonraq had questions - which, he definitely did - he didn’t voice them. His eyes were focused on his hands, who’s glow had gotten steadier. Tenzin settled beside his brother, making sure to weave around his leg. Gently, he brushed a strand of hair from his sister’s face. She looked almost peaceful in the daylight that streamed through the window.

"I mean, thank Yue." Bumi sighed, long and low. "Did you hear that, little bird?" He said, turning to their sister. "You're going to be okay. Mom's coming. Mom's on her way."

Chapter Text

Sokka

“We should send someone to check on them.”

Suki broke the calm silence that had taken over their new safe house. She was seated across the dining table, staring into her cup. Zuko had brewed some tea before he and Katara went into the back room with Senna, which she was holding tight in her hands. Sokka took another sip of his tea. Between them was a letter from Toph. It had been sent to the White Lotus and delivered when they came to collect Zaheer and Ming-Hua.

Toph’s investigation had concluded that the attack was instigated by the Red Lotus. They had the coordinates of their first safe house, Tenzin and Kya’s safe house, and the decoy- though they weren’t able to confirm Korra’s actual whereabouts. What was the most interesting, was that the plans she’d uncovered seemed to have initially involved many more people. The team that was supposed to attack their safe house was originally five people, not two. Whatever happened to minimize the attack definitely threw them off and led to their incredible lack of success. This gave Sokka hope for the other two teams. If this was who they sent after the Avatar, they may have not been attacked at all.

Sokka glanced up at his wife. Toph’s report stated that they didn’t have the address for this safe house, but he couldn’t quite relax yet.

“They could be waiting for that.” Sokka muttered, thumbing through Toph’s report. She’d been able to uncover a lot in just a day. She really was the best.

“Who?” Suki shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “Their leader is in custody.”

“It just feels…” Sokka scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know, unfinished.”

Everything about this felt off. It felt like one piece of a larger puzzle. They’d find out why  one day, he could feel it in his bones. The other shoe would drop. He just didn’t know when.

“They were supposed to have a more coordinated attack. They’d planned for more people and more power.” Suki argued, pressing a hand against the scroll. She wasn’t wearing her makeup to remain inconspicuous, but she still looked like a general. “Obviously, whoever fell through was the brains of the operation. And the restraint.”

“Which is even more reason to stay here and wait for further confirmation.” Sokka argued. He didn’t like the idea of splitting up more than they already had. Something in his gut told him this wasn’t over.

“If they were going to be attacked, it would’ve already happened.” Suki reasoned. She sat back in her chair, arms folded tight across her chest. “I’m giving it one more hour, then I’m going.”

“Okay.” Sokka sighed. He didn’t want argue with her. Suki was right, as she often was. Though the Red Lotus would probably strike again one day, this chapter was probably over. He leaned his elbow on the table, slouching his chin against it.

Suki was rereading one of Toph’s letters, her eyes dancing across the page at lightning speed. Her hair was tied back, but a few strands had slipped out, framing her face. She was wearing one of her parkas, a beautiful deep blue with a small pattern stitched in the front. She was so focused, her eyebrows pinching together just slightly.

“What?” Suki asked, raising an eyebrow. She’d caught him staring.

“Nothing.” Sokka sighed, leaning further into his hands. His voice had grown sickly sweet. “I haven’t been able to see you in action in a while, is all.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Suki wrinkled her nose. She put down the paper and took another sip of her tea.

“I mean it. We used to fight together all the time back in the day.” Sokka drawled. He reached across the table and squeezed her hand in his. Both of their pals were both rough, calloused and dry from the cold, but he didn’t care. “No one gets kidnapped anymore.” He huffed. Suki raised an eyebrow. “Zuko used to get kidnapped every other week,” he explained.

“I remember. It was awful.” Suki shook her head.

“Oh it was a complete nightmare.” Sokka agreed. He laughed, a boyish grin spreading across his face.“But you are just so dreamy when you’re in command.” He added, slipping into her language as he leaned across the table. Suki chuckled, meeting him in the middle and cupping his cheek.

They’d been together for over three decades and every kiss with Suki felt every bit as magical as the first.

“You have a very warped memory of that time.” Suki whispered, pulling away. He was so close to her face now that he could see every freckle, every knick and scar. He’d memorized all of them a long time ago.

“I have an accurate memory of that time.” Sokka corrected, sitting back in his seat. They both returned to their scrolls, comparing Toph’s recommendations with their plans to figure out a way to proceed. Soon they probably would be able to let Katara and Zuko come out, maybe even let Senna and Korra go home. The storm seemed to have passed. The nightmare was over.

Or, at least it was. For five seconds.

Knock knock knock

Each hit against the door rang out through the room. Sokka and Suki stilled, making panicked eye contact.

Knock knock knock

Each pound was harder now, more desperate. They bolted up from their seats, silently moving towards the door. Sokka grabbed his sword and Suki unfurled her fans. No one was supposed to know they were here. Toph had said the Red Lotus didn’t know about this house, but nothing was certain.

The door handle started to move, they were trying to break in but to no avail. The mystery visitor stopped trying, growing silent, which was even more worrisome. For a moment, Sokka was certain they were going to try another entrance. He turned around, scanning the boarded windows for signs of new movement or sounds.

Suddenly, Suki grabbed his hand, he whipped back around, following her eyes to the new, softer sounds. The locks were moving, clicking out of place as the attacker undid every chain from the outside. A metal bender.

“I knew they should’ve been platinum.” Sokka muttered, cursing under his breath. He and Suki both got into offensive positions, prepared to meet whoever was on the other side.

The door opened slowly. Sokka tightened his grip on the sword. Suki took a deep breath beside him. They were ready.

“It’s me!”

Lin Beifong, not a new attacker, bolted inside. She had both hands raised up as she yelled her name. Sokka blinked.

“It’s Lin! It’s me!”

Sokka stood up, lowering his sword. His heart was pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him with nowhere to go.

“Give the passcode.” Suki instructed. She was still in position. When protocol was broken like this, you had to give the signal that it was of your own accord, not forced out of your or a trap. Sokka turned back to the earth bender, his eyes wide.

“Momo ate the peaches.” Lin said, lowering her hands. It was the right signal, it meant all was clear. If she’d said it in any other language other than the air nomad dialect, it would mean it was a trap.

Suki let out a deep breath and put her fans back into their cases. Lin closed the door behind her. She was still breathing shortly, her face flushed. Aside from a scrape on her face, she seemed relatively unscathed- which was a relief. However, her presence remained incredibly alarming.

Sokka and Suki approached her, warily. A dozen scenarios were running through his mind, none good.

“Lin.” Sokka said, carefully. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “What happened?”

Lin

The Beifong’s lived in the apartment below Sokka and Suki for Lin’s entire life. She spent a lot of her childhood scrambling up the steps that connected them and taking refuge in the upstairs apartment. Sometimes it was for their good snacks. Others it was to escape her sister, who used to follow her everywhere like a lost turtleduck. A lot of the time, though, it was just for their company. Sokka and Suki were two of the coolest people she’d ever met. They liked cool music and had cool art and when she was old enough, they took her on cool trips and taught her cool non-bending fighting styles.

Above all else, they were cool because they trusted her. They treated her with the respect her mother had instilled that she always deserved. The didn’t treat her like a kid, they didn’t question what she could handle. They trusted her.

When she volunteered to stay at protect Korra, no one batted an eye. Her mother commended her. Sokka and Suki did as well. It was what she was trained for, what she could do. And she did. She beat the attackers. She got Bumi home. She did it. They were right to trust her. They would be proud.

None of that mattered anymore, though. It didn’t matter how well she’d done, how effectively she’d fallen in line. All of that flew out the window. The only thing she could see now was Kya’s sunken eyes, fluttering closed.

Sokka asked what happened. Lin took a deep breath.

Watching their faces twist from confusion into dread as she told them what happened was one of the worst things Lin Beifong had ever had to witness. Even through her boots, she could feel their hearts racing a mile a minute.

“Tonraq is working on her now?” Suki asked, after Lin concluded. Her eyebrows were knitted together, her voice taught. Sokka had started to pace halfway through her description, and had paused an arms-length from them.

“Tonraq is trying, but he can’t heal.” Lin repeated. She felt an ache or a sob creep up her throat but she forced it back down. “He can’t heal.”

“Okay.” Suki nodded. She gave Sokka a look, shaking him from whatever thought-spiral he’d been in. He ran a shaky hand through his hair.

“Lin.” He said, putting a firm hand on her shoulder. For a moment, a wash of pride spread over his face. “You did an incredible job.”

Lin looked down, only nodding in response. She couldn’t thank him for this.

“Okay.” He cleared his throat. His face hardened. “Let’s get her.”

Lin followed as Suki and Sokka started down the hall. With every step, she felt the pressure mount in the air. She’d been so focused on getting Katara, she’d forgotten what it meant. What this moment would mean. She was bringing news of an injured child to their parent and asking them to fix it. The anticipation was suffocating.

“Kya will be okay.” Suki muttered. Her voice was just above a whisper. She meant it for her husband, likely assuming Lin couldn’t hear.

“We don’t know that.” Sokka said, morosely.

“No,” Suki agreed. The pit in Lin’s stomach deepened. They arrived at the door. Suki took a breath. “But that’s what we’re going to tell her.”

The backup safe house did not have bunkers like the original or the decoy. Instead, it only had a back room with an intricate lock. Suki took out a key and fiddled with it until she heard a satisfying ‘click.’ Lin caught a glance inside. It was a small room, with only a few pillows and a candle to light it. Senna and Korra were seated on the back wall, both asleep. Katara and Zuko were perched in front of them, coming out of the shadows as the door opened.

“Katara, Zuko, can you come outside for a moment?” Sokka said, in as even a voice as possible. Any stress or panic he’d displayed as she’d told them what happened had been quickly tucked away.

Zuko and Katara exchanged a fearful glance, and walked out quickly.

“Someone start talking.” Katara said, as soon as they shut the door. Both she and Zuko were fixed on Lin, confusion sweeping their faces.

“Both bases were attacked.” Sokka started. It was only now that Lin realized just how small the hallway was. They were all crowded by the door, just inches away from one another. It was too close for this conversation. “They were successful in taking down the attackers, but they were hits. Kya-”

Lin watched as all the blood drained from Katara’s face.

“No.”

Katara gasped. Reflexively, Suki caught her arm, bracing in case she needed it.

“Kya is alive,” Sokka said, quickly, “but she was hit by a combustion blast.”

“No, no no no-” Katara muttered, bringing both hands up to her face.

“It seems she stabilized herself in the field with an ice technique.” Sokka continued. Lin admired his ability to give all of the information so concisely. Her report had not been as fast. He took a breath, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Tonraq is working on her now, but you need to go back.”

Katara’s eyes widened, dread washing over her in heavy waves. Without another word, Sokka pulled his sister into a hug. She accepted, holding tight to his parka as they embraced.

“I’m so sorry.” Sokka whispered. His face was tight, wracked with pain and stress and everything else that he’d stuffed down to get the information out. “I’m so sorry little bird. She needs your help. I’m so sorry.”

Lin stared at her feet, feeling suddenly intrusive on such a personal moment between the siblings. Little bird was Kya’s nickname when she was little. A term of endearment used by her parents and her older brother and her family in the South. Lin didn’t think much of it, until now. It had been Katara’s. Kya inherited it from her mother, like she had most things.

Katara wiped a stray tear from her face, taking a deep breath as she gathered herself.

“Is she talking?” Katara asked. Sokka and Suki both paused. Dissatisfied, the water bender turned to her. “Lin. Is she awake?”

Lin straightened. Everyone’s eyes shifted to her.

“She wasn’t when I left. But she had been when they arrived” Lin said, forcing an evenness to her tone. It wasn’t good news. She was really over giving bad news. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, honey.” Katara’s eyebrows crumpled together. She reached out and ran a hand over Lin’s head and tucking a stray hair behind her ear, the same way she used to do when she was young. “Thank you for getting me.” She said, earnestly, cupping her chin. “Thank you so much.”

Lin only nodded in return. With that settled, Katara turned back to the others, who were explaining something about a new letter from Toph. Lin was still somewhat stunned by the thank you, though she really shouldn’t be surprised. Lin was not only one of Aang’s kids. She was Katara’s too, in a lot of ways. No matter what was going on with her and Tenzin, Katara made sure Lin knew that she was welcome in her house.

Katara was her auntie. She was going to keep being her auntie, even now.

“One of you should go back too.” Lin blurted, calling back the attention. The others stopped talking and turned to her, eyes wide. “I can take your place.” She added, clearing her throat.

Lin was not a healer. She was not a shoulder to cry on or someone who knew what to say. Her superpower was knowing what she could handle, even when others didn’t. She knew that she could know the whereabouts of the other houses. She knew that she’d never reveal their locations, even in the face of pain or violence. She knew she could die protecting the Avatar. She knew she could die protecting Tenzin.

She could handle staying back. She could not handle, she was realizing, watching Katara save someone. She’d done that before, in many ways. She’d sat at Aang’s bedside. She’d talked with him as she worked and helped where she could. She was there, and it didn’t change anything.

No one batted an eye. Suki and Sokka nodded. Later they’d commend her. Lin would accept it begrudgingly.

“Zuko.” Katara said, turning to the fire bender. He’d been relatively quiet since Lin arrived, listening intently. “I’ll need help with temperature regulation.”

“Of course.” He said. His voice was low, almost gravely. Zuko was seldom hard to read, but in this moment Lin couldn’t place him.

“Alright.” Sokka said, calling the attention. The plan was set. It was time for them to leave. Quickly, Katara and Zuko gathered their things and headed to the door. Sokka squeezed both of their shoulders, firmly. “We’ll come as soon as it’s safe.”

The door slammed closed and Suki locked it behind them. Suddenly, Lin felt weak on her feet, the adrenaline and nerves of all that had happened suddenly catching up to them. Sokka and Suki both seemed shell-shocked, both frozen in place. Lin didn’t move either, unsure of where she should be. They’d tell her, soon. It felt like Zuko and Katara had taken all of the energy with them, and left this room with a suffocating anxiety.

“Fuck!” Suki cursed, holding her head in her hands. Lin barely moved at the sound. Nothing at this point could rattle her. Sokka started to walk to her, but she put out a hand. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I just need a minute.” She sighed, wiping a tear from her face.

Sokka only nodded, giving his wife her space. Instead, he walked to the table and began rifling through scrolls. Lin went with him, standing by his side as she didn’t know where else to go. She recognized the handwriting as her mother’s scribe, Lian, who’d been writing for her for two decades. His hands shook as he went through the pages, he was looking for something, but Lin wasn’t sure what. She didn’t want to ask. She thought staying back, selfishly, would be better. It wasn’t.

“Did the same person attack you, Lin?” Sokka said, suddenly. Lin blinked. “The combustion bender?” He clarified. He was still thumbing through the pages. Some were new, some older. It seemed her mother had assembled a hefty report on the attackers, a group known as the Red Lotus.

“No.” Lin said, forcing air back into her lungs. “It was a lava bender.”

That entire ordeal felt like it was a lifetime ago. Lin pressed a hand to the scrape on her cheek, if only to remind herself that it had all happened a few hours ago.

“Hm.” Sokka mused. He pulled out his notebook, the one he kept on him at all times, and started to jot something down.

“Do you think they knew where she was? Korra, I mean.” Lin asked, picking up one of her mother’s notes. There was little else to do now, it seemed. Sokka was the kind of person who stuck to the course. Lin swallowed back the lump in her throat. “Just… since they attacked the decoy house and yours.”

“We don’t know.” He said, writing something else down. They were both still standing, though he was leaning heavily onto one leg. Sokka had had a bad knee since the war ended, it flared up from time to time.“My guess is that they made an educated guess about Korra and that they weren’t sure where Tenzin was.”

“They attacked us thinking we had him.” Lin said, the realization rushing through her. The attacker was never there for Korra. He wanted Tenzin.

“That’s what I think.”  Sokka sighed. He was always honest with her, no matter what. He’d been that way for all of them. “Though, because of their… message, it may just have been for leverage, not to…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Sokka looked over to Lin with unbiased eyes. “Is the lava bender still alive?”

“Yes.” Lin answered, quickly.

“Okay.” Sokka closed his notebook with a clap. “Then we’ll get concrete answers out of one of them.”

Lin only nodded. She wondered, briefly, what his answer would have been if she’d said no.

Suki came up to the table, putting a gentle hand on her husband’s back. Whatever she’d needed to do to process her frustration about Kya, she’d done it. She looked completely in control now, everything else tucked away.

“Lin should go inside.” Suki said, softly. She gestured to the back room, where the Avatar and her mother slept.

Without another word, Suki took out her key and fiddled until it clicked. Inside, Korra and Senna were still asleep in the candlelight. Lin stepped inside, taking in the space. She saw the pillows Katara and Zuko had used, beside the candle. She took off her glove and pressed her hand to the floor. It would be harder from here to get to anything, but not impossible if she needed to.

Lin continued to walk around, trying to find pockets with more rocks underneath. Finally, she found one, just by the door. She could still see Suki and Sokka’s shadows, pacing in front. At first, she could only make out some of their conversation, most of it was muffled.

“-and this is my fault.” Sokka whispered, suddenly. His voice was thick with emotion.

Lin froze. She wasn’t supposed to be hearing this. She wanted to move back, but this was the first spot where she could get a clear feeling of their surroundings. She was at an impasse. On the other side of the door, she could feel their heartbeats, one beating far faster than the other. All at once, Sokka sunk to the floor. It seemed he was unable to hold it all anymore now that his sister had left. Suki jumped to his side, catching his arms in hers as he crumbled into her side.

“I never should’ve let her go-”

“It’s not your fault.” Suki said, her voice firm.

“Spirits, please don’t do this. Please don’t take her. Please don’t take her.” Sokka muttered, over and over again. His voice was quiet, but Lin could make out a few words in his language. “Please don’t do this to them.”

Lin stood up, and sat back on the cushion. This wasn’t for her. Sokka was a man of action, of direction, of doing the next right thing. He didn’t falter or bend, not when people needed him. He held Kya and Bumi when Aang passed. He held all of them.

But here, in the early morning, in the arms of his wife, he was falling apart.

For maybe the first time, she wished they hadn’t believed she could handle it.

Katara

Katara would remember the next several hours in flashes. There were flashes of things that happened, in theory, but they were discrete, not a continuous spin of memory like normal. This used to happen a lot when she was younger. After she had Tenzin it was a little like this. And when Bumi was hurt in the United Forces. And when her brother was injured in an attack after the war. And when Aang was struck by lightning. And when her father left. And when mother died.

It was like she wasn’t steering the boat, like she let someone else take over. It wasn’t great, she knew that, but it was what was. It got her through.

She didn’t remember running to the house. That would be lost to time. To panic. To trying to hamper down the hysteria of what she’d been told because her baby needed her. It would be lost to trying to forget the fear in Lin’s eyes or the shakiness of her brother’s voice or the sheer horror of the fact that this was and remained her story. Those thoughts were drowned out by prayers, prayers she’d forget saying, asks of the universe that would not be remembered. Most of them were for Aang. They would always be for him now. In the panic and pain and horror she took some solace in the fact that he was out there, with the spirits. That Kya had someone on both sides who would move mountains to keep her here.

The first thing Katara would remember was opening the door. She and her brother had built this house for their family. It was a gift to their grandmother for the sacrifices she’d made, for raising them in the place of the people who were supposed to. It was for their father too, but it was Kanna’s house. Katara had picked out the doorknob. It was a brilliant silver with little designs around the edges. It was the kind of thing that they never would’ve been able to think about before. It was frivolous, unnecessary, expensive. At the time, Katara saw it as a sign of change. Things were changing for good if it meant her grandmother’s door looked like this.

The next flash was of her sons. No one heard them come in, so Katara and Zuko wove their way to the main bathroom. Tenzin and Bumi were both crowded around the rim of the tub, watching Tonraq work with skeptical eyes. They both turned when she came in, meeting her with those big, expectant eyes. Bumi’s leg was propped up, an injury that hadn’t made its way to her ears yet, which should be a good sign. Tenzin had an angry bruise on his shoulder. They looked so young in these moments, so unsure, so in need. They were her kids, even if they were out impacting the world as she was. They needed their mom.

Tonraq didn’t turn. He didn’t stop what he was doing as he rambled at her, muttering about how he wasn’t sure what was working and if it was at all. Katara barely heard him as she knelt to his side. On her command, he stopped, taking his hands out of the murky water and sitting back on his heels. He kept talking, telling her something she barely heard. Whatever he was trying to explain she’d learn soon enough.

The next series of flashes were all Kya. Katara had been healing people since she was fourteen, her own friends and family, and nothing would prepare her for saving her children. Working over the body of one of her kids felt like working on herself. It felt like trying to fix your arm with itself. It felt like ripping yourself in two and stitching yourself back together. It was a level of awful only made kinder by the fact that she was the one who got to be in control. She was not looking on, powerless, she was the one who was working. If Kya was going to be saved, it would be because of her. That was the double edged sword. It had to be her. If Kya was going to be saved, it would be because of her.

Kya, to her credit, saved her own life. The ice block she plunged into her stomach stopped the bleeding in the major arteries that were shot open for long enough to give herself a chance. If she hadn’t done that, no one would have gotten to her in time. Tonraq, to his credit, stalled any decay from spreading because of the ice. He didn’t fix anything as much as he prevented.

Katara wouldn’t remember the next several hours. At some point, she asked everyone but Zuko to clear the room. He stayed, regulating the temperature of the water and getting fresh bowls and bringing her tea. Sokka, Suki and Lin were still at the safe house, and would be until they could confirm with Toph and the White Lotus that the threat had passed. The only thing that she could see, was her daughter.

Kya would live. Katara would make it so. She would will it into being.