#major character death - canonical | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kjack89 · 5 months

Text

Say Don't Go

E/R, canon era. Some light angst for your Friday evening (or whatever your timezone equivalent). Implied canonical character death, blood mention.

The candle in the back room of the Musain flickered with increasing unsteadiness, its melted wax having long since overflowed from the holder. Shadows cast by its inconsistent light danced along the walls, accompanied solely by the sound of Enjolras’s pen scritching across paper and the methodic dull thud of Grantaire’s wine bottle as it was lifted to lips then returned to its place.

Without warning, the candle spluttered out, plunging the room into darkness.

“I suppose we should take that as a sign,” Grantaire said, a moment later, and Enjolras sighed.

“You may,” he said shortly, standing and fumbling to light another candle. “Would that my work ceased with the absence of light.”

He successfully lit another candle, lighting the room once more, and Grantaire just shook his head. “But does your work not bring light into the world of its own accord?” he mused.

Enjolras glanced at him. “Coming from you, that is almost a compliment.”

Grantaire laughed. “Only if we are in the business of considering drunken rambling to be complimentary.”

“Again, from you…”

Enjolras trailed off and Grantaire laughed again, a somewhat gentler sound this time. “That I suppose is the most potent sign yet that I should take my leave, before my words somehow bring offense, intended or otherwise.”

He stood and Enjolras glanced up at him. “You need not leave on my account,” he said.

Grantaire paused, something unreadable flickering across his face. “Truly?”

“Grantaire, if I made a point of removing you every time you caused offense, you would never again attend another Les Amis meeting,” Enjolras said patiently, already looking back down at his papers.

But still Grantaire hesitated. “There remains a difference between my presence at one of our meetings versus my presence here, after hours, with just you as company.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Grantaire worried his lower lip between his teeth before blurting, “Would you permit any other attendee of our meetings to stay late into the night with you in this way?”

“No other attendees are brave enough to attempt it,” Enjolras murmured.

“Or fool enough,” Grantaire countered.

Enjolras glanced up with a small smile. “That too,” he agreed.

Grantaire hesitated for a moment more before shrugging. “Very well,” he said, taking his seat again. “If you truly do not mind.”

“I have far more important things to concern myself with than how you choose to spend your evening,” Enjolras told him.

“Yes,” Grantaire said, reaching automatically for his bottle of wine. “I imagine you do.”

— — — — —

“Sit,” Grantaire ordered, in a tone that brooked no argument, pointing at a chair as he crossed to the washbasin, rolling his shirt sleeves up.

To his surprise, Enjolras sat without complaint, which in and of itself was evidence that forcing him to sit and stay still was the best move. Joly might have additional advice, but he had been swept up in the crowd after the National Guard had interrupted their assembly, leaving Grantaire alone to close his hand around Enjolras’s wrist and bodily drag him from the scene.

But not before Enjolras managed to get himself hit in the temple by the butt of a musket.

It was with slightly shaking hands that Grantaire managed to wet a cloth in the washbasin, and he took a deep, steadying breath before turning back to Enjolras, and the blood that matted the entire right hand side of his face. “I’m certain it looks worse than it is,” Enjolras murmured, though he didn’t quite meet Grantaire’s eyes as he said it.

“And I am certain that you do not find yourself in a position to determine as such,” Grantaire said, reaching out to tilt Enjolras’s chin just slightly with two fingers before finally reaching out with the wet cloth.

Enjolras winced at the touch and would have flinched away were it not for Grantaire holding his head steady. “I can do that,” he protested, his voice little more than a mumble, as Grantaire began washing the blood from the side of his face.

Grantaire made a small dissenting noise, his eyes not leaving the gash at Enjolras’s hairline. “You certainly can,” he murmured. “But I have little faith that you would if left to your own devices.”

“To be fair, you have little faith in just about everything,” Enjolras returned evenly.

A smile twitched at the corner of Grantaire’s mouth. “Well, save for—”

“Your full glass, yes,” Enjolras said, rolling his eyes. “Do you ever grow weary of making the same jest?”

“Haven’t yet,” Grantaire told him, straightening to return to the washbasin and rinse the cloth. As he did, Enjolras stretched and made the tell-tale signs of beginning to stand, and Grantaire whipped around instantly, scowling. “Did I say you could stand?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes once more. “I am fine,” he told Grantaire, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Grantaire pursed his lips. “I did not say otherwise.”

“Well enough to stand, at the very least,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Now that remains to be seen.” He pointed again at the chair before ordering, for a second time, “Sit.”

Enjolras sat, scowl firmly in place. “I think you are enjoying this,” he said, a little sourly, and Grantaire’s shoulders tensed as he hunched over the washbasin, the water in it pink with blood.

“You think that I enjoy tending to your wounds?”

Grantaire’s voice was quiet but Enjolras still flinched as if he had shouted. “I did not mean—”

Again Grantaire turned to him, his face impassive as he took his previous spot at Enjolras side, pressing the cloth once more to Enjolras’s head. “My preference would be that you not be harmed seemingly every time you get it in your head to set foot out your door, but my vote, it seems, does not carry much weight.”

Enjolras winced, though it did not appear to be from the pressure Grantaire was applying. “I—”

“What?”

Enjolras sighed. “I apologize.”

Grantaire blinked, his hand not moving. “There really is a first time for everything.”

For a long moment, they sat like that in silence before Enjolras rolled his shoulders and tilted his head, trying to catch Grantaire’s eye. “I do mean what I said earlier, though.”

“Which part?” Grantaire asked.

“That I can do this myself,” Enjolras told him, reaching up to rest a hand on top of Grantaire’s and the cloth still pressed to his temple. “You need not stay.”

Grantaire just made a small humming noise of what could have been agreement or dissent in equal measure. “I shall take that under advisement,” he murmured, making absolutely no move to pass the cloth to Enjolras or otherwise move.

Enjolras sighed, his hand dropping to his lap. “You shall be the death of me,” he said sourly.

A ghost of a smile flitted across Grantaire’s face. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

— — — — —

Grantaire sat upright, swinging his legs over to the side of the bed but making no attempt to stand. He glanced back at Enjolras, sprawled next to him, the light from the moon filtering through the window casting Enjolras’s usually golden curls with a silver sheen. “What?” Enjolras asked, something languid and almost sleepy in his tone.

“Nothing,” Grantaire said, his fingers twitching against the bed sheets.

A frown puckered Enjolras’s forehead. “And yet you look as though you are waiting for me to say something.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Perhaps I am.”

Enjolras sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Would it not be easier to tell me what you wished to hear?” he asked, something like frustration coloring his words. “I am—” For the first time that evening, even more so than when he had asked Grantaire to accompany him to his bed hours earlier, Enjolras hesitated. “You know that I am not experienced in this regard, so if there is any set of usual platitudes I should be offering—”

Grantaire let out a noise like a snort, shaking his head. “After all this time, you think I seek mere platitudes?” he asked, his voice low.

Enjolras rolled onto his side to face him. “Truth be told, I know not what you seek,” he said, matching Grantaire’s tone. “From me, from this, from any of it.”

Grantaire just shook his head. “All this time, I have sought only one thing.”

He said it simply, evenly, and Enjolras frowned, looking away. “That is what I feared most of all,” he said quietly. “That you should seek the one thing that I cannot offer.”

For one long moment, Grantaire just looked at him, something unreadable in his expression. Then he sighed and drew a hand across his face. “I know what you presume I wish to hear, but you are wrong,” he said. “Never have I expected to hear those three sweet words from your lips in this or any lifetime.” He leaned over so that his lips were practically against Enjolras’s ear. “I would settle instead for two.”

“Two?” Enjolras breathed.

Grantaire nodded. “Don’t go,” he murmured.

Enjolras shifted away slightly so that he could frown at him. “You wish for me to tell you to stay?”

Grantaire shook his head. “No. I wish for you to ask me not to go.”

Enjolras’s frown deepened. “I see no difference—”

“I suppose you wouldn’t, so used are you to having every request treated as an edict,” Grantaire mused, straightening once more. “And that is what telling me to stay would be: a command. You and I both know I have had no great success at following commands, even the ones given by you.” He paused, his eyes searching Enjolras’s for a long moment. “But while you have commanded many things of me, all of which I have failed, never once have you asked anything of me. So if there are only two words I could hear fall from your lips, it would be that request alone.”

Enjolras looked away. “Must I ask for something that is offered freely?”

Something tightened in Grantaire’s expression, but his voice was even as he replied, “Only so that the person offering knows that it is not he alone who wants it.”

Silence stretched between them for a long moment, broken only by Enjolras’s eventual sigh as he rolled over onto his other side, his back to Grantaire. “If you wish to stay, stay.”

Grantaire swallowed and nodded with unspoken understanding. “And I think it best that I go.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “If that is what you wish.”

— — — — —

Enjolras ground his teeth together, frustration palpable. “Go home, Grantaire.”

Grantaire just smirked, lifting the bottle of wine in his hand but not drinking from it. “Give me one compelling reason why I should,” he challenged.

“You are drunk.”

Enjolras said it flatly, his disappointment clear, and Grantaire’s smirk sharpened. “That has never hindered my staying in the past.”

“Fine,” Enjolras said impatiently. “You are drunk and you are annoying me.”

Still Grantaire looked amused. “Again, never before have you found that a hindrance.”

“Well, I find it one tonight.”

Grantaire set the bottle down, propping his chin on his hand as he looked thoughtfully at Enjolras. “I don’t believe that you do.”

Enjolras scowled. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard what I said, unless you have suffered yet another injury, this time to your ears,” Grantaire said, before repeating, enunciating every syllable, “I don’t believe you.”

“You think that I speak falsely?” Enjolras asked, with a dangerous sort of calm.

Grantaire just shrugged. “It is less that I find your words false and more that I understand your meaning to differ from what you speak.”

Enjolras scoffed, looking down at the pamphlet in front of him. “I don’t believe even you know what that means.”

Grantaire’s smirk became brittle. “It means that you say one thing, knowing that I will understand what it is you truly wish to say but cannot allow yourself to.”

Now Enjolras looked up sharply, his lips pressed together into a flat line. “You know not of what you speak,” he said, the same dangerous edge to the words.

A dangerous edge that Grantaire did not heed. “Don’t I?”

“No.”

Something tightened in Grantaire’s face and he leaned forward, urgency in every line of his body. “I, who have spent every day of the past few years deconstructing every sentence you have ever uttered?” he asked quietly. “I alone who has spent uncountable hours at your side to hear what words you do not share with even your closest friends? You think I know not of what you speak?”

His volume had risen considerably by the end, and Enjolras just lifted his chin, meeting his glare coolly. “You have deluded yourself into believing this is more than what it is. You may lace your words with hidden meanings and double entendres, but that does not mean—”

Grantaire barked a dry, humorless laugh, scrubbing a hand across his mouth. “And now you accuse me of not saying what it is I think!” He stood abruptly, taking only a few automatic steps toward Enjolras. “My God, man, I could not be any more transparent with my thoughts, with my feelings, if I tried. I ruminate and I ramble and every thought that has ever existed in my head has seemingly also passed my lips, but you—“

He broke off, shaking his head, equal parts admiring and grudging. “Every word that passes your lips is weighed, measured, considered,” he said. “Each sentence as carefully constructed as any of your plans. And so I have taught myself to read between your pauses just as surely as your words, to find meaning in each breath and every hesitation. Call me deluded if you must, but do not sit there and tell me that I do not know of what I speak, in this instance at the very least.”

Enjolras said nothing, and Grantaire took another step towards him, reaching out for his hand. “There may only be two words I have ever wanted to hear, but it does not mean you have not said them in every way that matters. And that is why I do not believe you find my presence a hindrance, on this or any night.”

But Enjolras just pulled his hand away, his expression carefully neutral. “Go home, Grantaire.”

Grantaire’s hand fell to his side. “So be it,” he said. “But returning to my home will not change the meaning of any words said here tonight – or anything left unsaid.”

“I know,” Enjolras said quietly, so softly that Grantaire almost could not hear him. “I only wish that it could.”

— — — — —

There was no moon in the sky, and the only candle in the room had long since extinguished itself.

Still, Grantaire moved with practiced ease, finding his clothes where he had flung them a few hours earlier. He shrugged into his shirt, doing up the buttons with long, nimble fingers, pale against the stark blackness of the room.

Enjolras watched with hooded eyes as Grantaire tugged his trouser on and then stood, disappearing a little at a time under each additional layer, the hastily buttoned waistcoat, the sloppily tied cravat.

Neither man made any attempt to speak.

Perhaps all that needed to be said had been.

Or perhaps both feared breaking the tentative, unspoken truce that had led Grantaire again to Enjolras’s bed that night.

In any case, Grantaire turned to the door without sparing Enjolras an additional glance, and only then did he hesitate, his hand on the doorknob.

Without warning, he turned, crossing back to the bed and reaching for Enjolras, his hand gentle against the back of Enjolras’s neck as he pulled him up just enough to press a single long kiss to Enjolras’s forehead, the kiss like a benediction, a sacrament.

Penance and absolution in one.

His fingers carded through the wispy curls at the nape of Enjolras’s neck, but still he made no attempt to speak, or otherwise break the moment.

A moment that was not enough, and could never be enough, but the only moment that Enjolras had ever granted.

He held onto the moment as though he could somehow force it to be enough.

Then he straightened, and this time, when he left, he did not turn back.

— — — — —

Grantaire, roused by the silence, stumbled forward, his eyes fixed on Enjolras and only Enjolras. Just as always.

He brushed past the National Guard as though they were no more than mere specters, for in that moment, they were. One final impetus for the unspoken conversation that had ruled what little he had forged with Enjolras over the years.

“Do you permit it?” he asked, the simple question that defined their entire existence, that narrated the way their lives were forever entwined and hurtling towards this moment no matter what either man had tried to wrought along the way.

Enjolras’s answer to the question was as immaterial as ever, because Grantaire had always known what the answer was, or would be. Had known it as certainly as he knew that it would end like this.

His answer was in the soft smile Enjolras gave him there at the end of all things. It was in the gentle press of his palm against Grantaire’s, just as it had been in every kiss, every touch, every gasp wrung from Enjolras’s body. Grantaire had heard what he so longed to hear in every way that mattered, in the end.

He only hoped that Enjolras knew it, too.

There was no time now to ask, no time to speak, but so much of them had lived in the unsaid that it mattered not.

The final volley of gunfire sounded, but Grantaire did not hear it. His eyes were still fixed on Enjolras, and he heard but one thing, one final time:

Don’t go.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #canon era #developing relationship #sort of ish #major character death cw #canonical major character death #injury cw #blood cw #light angst #someone's inevitably going to get mad at me for calling this 'light' angst and you know what? I welcome it

54 notes · View notes

crabussy · 1 year

Text

the psychological horror created by Hasbro’s desire to sell more toys rather than honour the desires of the original creator resulting in an immortal alicorn princess of friendship doomed to watch her friends grow old and die without her is so interesting to me. by trying to cater to children more you have accidentally created a reality in which death of the main characters friends as she lives on for centuries is not just implied but confirmed. idk it’s fascinating to think about

#EVEN MORESO BY G5 #with discord in the comics clearly descended into misery without fluttershy #their absence speaks volumes #and I know kids are able to handle mature topics like death earlier than we often assume #but still it’s so strange to think about death of the main characters being canon and confirmed in the colourful pony cartoon #wild #mlp #major character death #character death #DONT GET ME WRONG I LOVED THE LAST EPISODE SO MUCH #it’s just !!!!! I wish twilight was growing old alongside them #I don’t like how much she looks like celestia too #she’s grown so apart from her roots it feels like it undoes much of her growth #at the same time it’s the best ending we could’ve hoped for all things considered #I JUST MISS HER ICONIC FRINGE

328 notes · View notes

goldstarknight · 30 days

Text

Dovin Baan & Tamiyo (2023)

My favourite Planeswalkers doing a weird JoJo pose. They probably wouldn't have been best friends or anything, but I can imagine Dovin helping Tamyio with her research and her inviting him to join the story circle. :)

Had a lot of fun drawing this one and imitating the JoJo anime style. ^^

#I'd also be delighted if WotC could stop killing off my favourite characters at the end of a major story arc. :)#As far as I'm concerned Dovin's death isn't canon anyway.#mtg #magic the gathering #magic: the gathering #mtg fanart #digital art #digital illustration #jojo pose #dovin baan #tamiyo #art #anime #planeswalker

20 notes · View notes

profoundbondfanfic · 3 months

Text

The Law of Equivalent Exchange

The Law of Equivalent Exchange by awed_frog @awed-frog Rating: Mature Word Count: 60k

“And what’s the point of it?” “Of love? There isn’t one. Loving is its own purpose.”

This fic is poetic and deeply touching in a way that truly just has to be experienced. It's just a breathtakingly beautiful love story.

Cas, Angel of Tears, is assigned to watch over two brothers, tied together and experiencing hundreds of lifetimes of sorrow and joy in preparation for some mysterious Heavenly plan. His mission is to watch over a green-eyed boy, to guide him into each next life. The human doesn't know, doesn't remember (mostly), but it's impossible to ignore the growing bond between them. Cas finds himself inexorably changed by watching the many lives he experiences.

The fic ties into canon (so you should be familiar with canon to truly enjoy it) to make some of the iconic scenes even more emotional.

It all comes together to tell an unforgettable story of love and devotion that had me crying by chapter 2, and it has a soft, beautiful ending that will stick with me for awhile.

#destiel #fic rec #50k to 100k #mature #canon verse #canon divergence #reincarnation #angst with a happy ending #historical #temporary major character death #slow burn #angel!castiel #trueform!castiel #human!castiel #bottom!dean #first kiss #first time #author: awed_frog #the law of equivalent exchange

66 notes · View notes

bloody-bee-tea · 3 months

Text

IntiMarch 2024 Day 14 - Be one with me

The prompt for this was "Be one with me"

Suguru warily watches Satoru fight the curse all on his own. That in itself is not strange–Satoru is the strongest after all–but the bloodlust–that’s new.

It’s almost unbearable to watch how he tears into the curse, how he clearly enjoys its form ripping under his bare hands and Suguru feels faintly sick.

“Satoru,” he calls out when the curse is nothing more than a mangled mess on the ground and it still doesn’t seem as if Satoru is going to stop any time soon.

But Suguru wants that curse for his arsenal, so Satoru is not allowed to exorcise it.

There’s a split second where Suguru fears Satoru didn’t hear him–or worse, decides not to listen–before his head snaps around to him. The motion is so animal-like that Suguru’s heart skips a beat.

“I want to have that curse,” he reminds Satoru, who continues to stare at him, unblinking, unwavering, as if he’s afraid Suguru could vanish the moment he takes his eyes off him.

“You always want curses,” Satoru finally pouts, his entire posture softening and he’s back to the Satoru Suguru knows.

A little lanky, a lot spoiled and more than pouty.

“Well, I have to keep collecting them, so I can keep up with you, don’t I?” Suguru mildly asks, as he holds out his hand, unravelling the curse and turning it into one of Suguru’s orbs.

In all honesty, Suguru is not sure an entire arsenal of Special Grade curses would enable him to keep up with Satoru. Not with how viciously he’s turned, recently.

“I would never leave you behind,” Satoru hisses out, something electric flashing through his eyes, even as he bounds up to Suguru, pressing into his side as if he were an overly affectionate cat. “You and I, we’re the strongest, after all. Only together.”

It used to be reassuring, when Satoru said that, but now a cold shudder runs down Suguru’s back. It sounds more like a threat now, like something Satoru will see through no matter what. Suguru doesn’t want to find out what’s going to happen should he fall too much behind Satoru.

“Together we’re the strongest,” Suguru agrees when it becomes apparent that Satoru is waiting for an answer and to distract himself from Satoru’s piercing look, he swallows the curse without preamble.

It fights its way down Suguru’s throat, making him choke on it, and all the while Suguru can feel Satoru’s eyes on him, following the path of the orb down.

It’s unsettling, to say the least, and for a moment Suguru thinks Satoru might attack him, tear the curse right out of him again, no matter what he has to destroy to get to it.

But as soon as that thought enters his head, the curse goes completely down and Satoru’s face smoothes out.

“Treat now?” he asks, brimming with his usual overflowing energy, all excitement and no murderous intent in sight, and Suguru swears one of these days he’s going to get whiplash by Satoru’s rapidly changing moods.

“Sure,” Suguru agrees, because he misses this and he’s going to cling to as many of these normal moments as he can. “But you’re paying, because you made a mess of the curse.”

“Rude,” Satoru huffs out but his eyes blaze with satisfaction and Suguru can’t tell if it’s because Suguru acknowledged the carnage he left behind or because he agreed to get something sweet.

It’s best not to ask, Suguru thinks and helplessly follows after Satoru when he leads the way to a café he scouted beforehand.

It’s such a Satoru thing to do that Suguru forgets all about his worry, at least for now.

~*~*~

“Something is off with Satoru,” Shoko says as she strides into Suguru’s room and Suguru sighs.

None of his friends know how to knock, apparently.

“Hello to you, too,” he gets out just before she sits down at the edge of his bed.

“Suguru, I’m being serious,” Shoko sternly says and Suguru sits up.

“Why do you think that?” he dutifully asks and tries to push his uneasiness away.

Something is definitely wrong with Satoru, but he’s not going to be the first to say that. He needs to figure out what the others have noticed, first, before he says anything.

It’s probably not that serious anyway, and just a normal trauma response or something. Things with Toji did fuck them over, after all.

“He’s–off,” Shoko says, waving her hand as if that could explain anything. “He’s–he’s never been cruel before,” she finally finishes quietly. “Reckless in his words, and mean, sure. But not like this. He’s deliberately aiming for things that hurt, in every conversation. You can’t even talk to him normally anymore.”

“What?” Suguru asks because that sure as hell is something he hasn’t noticed at all.

There are a dozen different things he finds off about Satoru, but this is certainly not one of them.

“Is he being normal with you?” Shoko asks and Suguru nods.

“Yeah, things are just fine. He jokes and banters like usual. He’s not being mean to me and he’s certainly not hitting where it hurts.”

And if someone could hit Suguru where it hurts, it’s Satoru. He knows him best after all.

“Huh. Maybe I just pissed him off then,” Shoko sighs out and relaxes slightly. “I have been kind of hard on him but it would be such a huge help to have someone else here who can heal. Not just himself, but everyone else, too.”

“But he can’t figure it out?” Suguru guesses.

“He can’t. Or he doesn’t want to, I’m not sure. Like I said, conversations with him are not very productive lately.”

Suguru wants to offer his help, but seeing as he’s the only one who cannot heal himself here, he doubts he could do anything for Shoko.

“Sorry,” he still says, and he’s not even sure if he’s apologising for himself or on Satoru’s behalf.

“Yeah, whatever,” Shoko quietly says. “As long as he’s fine. It was traumatic what you went through, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if it fucked him up, but we’d need to know to do anything about it.”

Suguru wants to say that he doesn’t think they are any more fucked up than they were before but then he remembers the absolute viciousness with which Satoru tends to pound curses into the ground lately and he bites his tongue.

He doesn’t even know why he feels as if he should keep this a secret but it doesn’t feel right to talk to Shoko about this, not when he hasn’t even confronted Satoru about it.

If anything Suguru really should talk to him first.

~*~*~

“Geto, a word, please,” Yaga calls out when Suguru is just on his way back to his room.

He doesn’t know where Satoru went off to after they returned from their mission but he guesses he’s going to find him in his room later anyway, so he quickly jogs over to Yaga.

“Yes?”

“What’s going on with Gojo?” Yaga asks, not beating around the bush and Suguru’s stomach churns uneasily.

If even Yaga noticed something off about him–

“What do you mean?” Suguru asks, playing dumb for now, and he probably shouldn’t shield Satoru, not when he could easily turn to all on them with that bloodlust he’s displaying lately, but it doesn’t feel right to Suguru.

Satoru hasn’t hurt anyone and Suguru will always be on his side.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed,” Yaga chides him but Suguru continues to play dumb.

“Notice what?”

Yaga lets out a harsh breath.

“Something about his energy is–off. Has been ever since that thing with Toji happened. You should have noticed, you two spend all of your time together anyway.”

Suguru’s breath catches in his throat; Yaga is right. Something about Satoru is definitely off, but Suguru was so concerned about his mannerisms, about how he behaved lately that he didn’t even notice that his energy is all out of whack, too.

“I–must have not been paying attention,” Suguru admits, though a tiny voice at the back of his head whispers that it’s more like he didn’t want to see. “I’ll ask him about it, alright?” he promises Yaga, who regards him for a moment before he nods.

“See that you do, we can’t have him going berserk on us,” Yaga finally says and then promptly marches off, leaving Suguru alone with his thoughts.

Unease settles around Suguru as he remembers Satoru’s manic laughter as he beats curses to a pulp and the fact that his own energy was barely distinguishable from that of the curse makes Suguru sick to his stomach.

He needs to find out what’s going on, or otherwise Satoru might leave him soon and Suguru isn’t sure he could stand that.

Satoru should be in his room, waiting for him after the latest mission so Suguru hurries, his feet carrying across school faster than they usually do and when he storms into his room, Satoru is stretched out on the bed. He looks over at Suguru when he enters, but even that is somehow wrong, because his body goes still for a moment, tightly controlled before it seems as if he spills himself out over the bed again and Suguru sits down where he stands.

Satoru is off.

“What is going on?” Suguru outright asks and is not surprised when he’s met with Satoru’s usual deflecting smile.

“What do you mean?” he asks, aiming for a light tone but Suguru is too worried to let it slide for now.

“You’re–”he helplessly waves a hand at Satoru. “Something is off, something is wrong, and I need you to tell me what it is, because otherwise I can’t help you.”

“Who says I need help?” Satoru asks, slowly sitting up, though his face is carefully blank.

“Who says you don’t?” Suguru shoots back. “Both Shoko and Yaga came to me to ask what the hell is wrong with you and I couldn’t give them an answer because I don’t know, because you won’t talk to me, but–Satoru, what happened?”

“What do you think happened?” Satoru wants to know, his eyes boring into Suguru’s and Suguru feels like crying.

“Your energy feels like that of a curse,” he finally whispers out, because it does, even though Suguru tried his best to ignore it.

But ever since that incident with Toji Satoru’s energy has been all out of whack and Suguru finally acknowledges it.

“Suguru,” Satoru starts but his voice breaks before he gets more words than that out and Suguru takes a deep breath.

“It’s not just that; it’s your viciousness, your cruelty, and your overprotectiveness,” Suguru goes on because that, too, is something that has changed.

They used to be together a lot, before, but now they are almost inseparable. Satoru sticks to this side like glue, never strays far away, always comes back within minutes, plastering himself all over Suguru. Suguru doesn’t mind it, but it’s–strange. And during fights, too. Suguru can barely do more than absorb the curse at the end, because Satoru is always right there, fighting before Suguru even gets a chance, snarling at him when he tries to call on a curse and it’s not right.

Satoru used to love to fight together.

“What happened?” he forces himself to ask, even though he’s certain he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“Toji happened,” Satoru says after a moment. “Toji happened and I died.”

“But you got better,” Suguru harshly says, because Satoru figured out how to heal himself.

“You can’t heal death, Suguru,” Satoru quietly whispers and Suguru feels as if he’s being choked. “I died. And then–”

“You turned into a curse,” Suguru brokenly finishes for him and buries his face in his hands.

“Suguru, I–” Satoru starts but he falls silent without ever finishing his sentence.

It’s not as if there’s a lot to say. Satoru is dead. What Suguru sees now is just a–a manifestation of energy, desperately trying to remember how to keep a human appearance.

“How?” Suguru’s voice is scratchy but he refuses to acknowledge the tears rolling down his face.

“Regrets,” Satoru carelessly says. “I was supposed to be the strongest. We were supposed to be the strongest. And I–I think the last thing I remember is worrying about you. I couldn’t protect you, you weren’t safe and I–maybe I carried that over.”

It would certainly explain some things, Suguru thinks with a bitter laugh.

“You’re unravelling,” he whispers and Satoru slides down the bed, comes closer to Suguru and now that he knows what to look for he sees how inhuman his movements are.

“It’s hard, remembering how to keep a human form when I could be anything,” Satoru admits. “I’m slipping, sometimes; it’s as if there’s a new set of instincts and I don’t know how to deal with them very well yet. It’s not as if I could ask anyone to practise with me.”

Ice-cold fear grips Suguru when he thinks about how he could lose Satoru; how he lost him and yet could still do so again in the future and his hand shoots out, tightly gripping Satoru’s wrist.

It feels the same as always under his fingers, but maybe Satoru is just concentrating very hard right now.

“Be one with me,” Suguru urgently says, his fingers probably tight enough around Satoru to hurt.

If he still feels that kind of thing.

“Huh?”

“You’re unstable, and Yaga already noticed that something with your energy is off. I can’t help with that, not even by practising with you. But if you–if I absorb you your energy will always be masked with mine. You’d be tethered to me, I could keep you stable.”

It’s a reckless suggestion; Suguru has trouble absorbing Special Grade curses and Satoru is bound to be stronger than that. There’s no guarantee that Satoru will maintain his personality, that being absorbed won’t change him but Suguru has to try.

The thought that he could lose Satoru for real–

“So you can keep me on a leash?” Satoru almost growls out and his eyes blaze an electric blue.

“So I can protect you,” Suguru immediately gives back. “So you don’t leave me.”

It almost feels as if Satoru’s skin is burning under his hand, but Suguru doesn’t dare to let him go, too afraid that he’ll slip right through his fingers.

“Absorb me, huh?” Satoru whispers after a moment, leaning in close and pressing his lips to Suguru’s throat, following the trail a curse normally takes.

His obsession with watching Suguru swallow the curses lately makes a lot more sense all of a sudden.

“Please, Satoru. Don’t leave me,” Suguru urges him and a shiver runs down his back when Satoru chuckles against his skin.

“I turned into a curse because I didn’t want to leave you,” he quietly says and Suguru bites back a moan when Satoru nips at the skin right at the base of Suguru’s throat.

“You don’t mind?”

“Mind what?”

“That I’m a curse now?”

“Why would I mind something that keeps you at my side?” Suguru gives back and really, it’s as easy as that.

As long as it means Satoru can stay, Suguru wouldn’t mind anything.

Instead of answering Suguru, he feels a tug on his own energy; Satoru urging him on to use his technique and Suguru doesn’t have to be asked twice.

Satoru is by no means weak enough for Suguru to forego the subjugation, but Satoru comes willingly so it’s easy to transform his energy into one of Suguru’s orbs.

But instead of swirling black and gold, this one is bright blue, just like Satoru’s eyes.

Suguru’s eyes burn again when he looks at the orb and he briefly cradles it to his chest, wishing to protect Satoru no matter what, before he plops him into his mouth and swallows him down.

Satoru goes down easy, easier than any other curse Suguru absorbed and the assimilation process is over in a heartbeat.

Suguru doesn’t feel any different, though the knowledge that Satoru is now his in a way that can’t be explained, can’t be reversed makes him go hot all over.

He feels a tug on his own energy again–clearly Satoru is impatient as hell–and Suguru quickly calls upon him. Satoru manifests at his side a second later and Suguru can tell that he’s more stable.

“It does help,” Satoru says, sounding almost surprised and Suguru huffs.

“You think I would lie about that?” he demands to know and can’t help but to sway close to Satoru. “I would never. I want you to stay, after all.”

“And I will. Until you die, I’ll be here,” Satoru promises and leans close, his eyes burning.

Suguru meets him halfway, knowing exactly what it is he wants and he can’t even blame his own technique for that; Satoru is too powerful for him to completely control. He can maybe make suggestions, but Satoru will have to follow them willingly, or not at all.

And this, apparently, is something he does willingly.

When they part, Satoru grins at him.

“And? Do I feel human enough?” he asks, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes and Suguru chuckles.

“You feel like you,” he simply says, because it doesn’t matter to him if Satoru feels human or not.

As long as it’s him, nothing matters to Suguru.

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #curse!gojo satoru #so technically there's a major character death #canon divergence #angst #hurt/comfort #getting together #unhealthy co-dependency

29 notes · View notes

goldenavenger02 · 9 days

Text

and i will try (to fix you)

"So, what are you asking, exactly?"

"You taught me everything I know about waterbending, not to mention you're the strongest waterbender I know," Aang explained, her cheeks filling with a flush as he reached over to tuck a stray hair behind her ear before asking, "so, will you teach me how to heal?"

OR: 5 times Aang tried to heal someone with waterbending and 1 time he did.

(This is so long only because I am neurodivergent and don't know when to stop yapping about random lore things, like water healing and yet I still get ages wrong in the fic. I'm not fixing it, Lin is now older then Tenzin and that just has to be okay with everybody because I am not changing it.

This is also my birthday fic to myself! My birthday isn't until Wednesday, but I will be starting my summer job then which will make me 90% offline and I will not have time to respond to comments like I usually do.

With that, I hope you all enjoy this very, VERY, long fic and now, on with the story!)

1. The Question

"Hey, you okay?" Katara asked softly, breaking Aang out of his thoughts as he sat on the balcony of the high-end inn that King Kuei insisted on putting the three of them in while they were in Ba Sing Se for the next week, his legs dangling in the air.

Aang didn't know how to answer that; the war had just ended a month ago but his gut was still tight with guilt even though he had ended things as peacefully as possible.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," he finally spoke, resulting in her taking a few steps forward and resting her hand on his shoulder; he couldn't deny how gorgeous she looked even in the dim light of the setting sun with the last rays shining in her ocean-blue eyes.

"You can ask me anything."

"Toph and Zuko want to continue teaching me earth and fire bending," he looked down at his hands and the intricate blue arrows marking the backs of them, "and I know that no matter how hard I try, even the most peaceful option can still ruin lives but if there's something I can do to make up for it-"

"Ozai needed to go down," Katara cut him off, moving her hand off of his shoulder and rubbing soft circles on his upper back, "you stopped him without killing him, which is a lot braver than what the rest of us would have done."

"I know, but… there are people in the Fire Nation, in the Earth Kingdom and the water tribes that have lost family and friends in this war because I wasn't here to stop them, and even after I got out of the ice, people still died."

He watched as her fingers trailed off to the pendant of her necklace for a few moments, like it always did when she was reminded of her mother, before her gaze returned to him.

"So, what are you asking, exactly?"

"I didn't spend as much time with Yagoda as I should have to teach anyone and most of what I know is self-taught," Katara explained after a beat before raising her eyebrow, "you're sure that you want me to teach you?"

"You brought me back to life," Aang pointed out, trying not to think about the starburst of a scar on his back, "you also saved Zuko's life. I don't know about you, but that sounds at the very least like someone who can teach me the basics."

"Can I think about it? I just…" she let out a breath of air, finally taking her hand off of his back and folding her elbows over the balcony railing before resting her head on them, "it's not that I don't want to teach you, but I don't want anyone to start seeing me differently."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to just be seen as a healer, and I know that you would never see me that way, but…"

"You're worried about what others might think," Aang filled in the blank and watched as she nodded against her folded arms, "I understand. I don't want to pressure you, I just…it's stupid."

"No it's not," she reached one of her hands towards him and squeezed it in hers, the pressure reassuring him that the guilt tightening around his heart wasn't unfounded, "if you have to damage something, you want to be able to help fix it. That's not stupid, Aang."

"It's not?"

"No." She stood up straight for a moment, to press a kiss to his cheek, before resting again on her elbows with their hands firmly clasped around each other's until long after the sun went down and their eyes had the reflections of stars in them.

Despite all of the feelings swirling around Aang, the pure joy won out as Katara continued to squeeze his hand and the moon started to softly illuminate the balcony; at the end of the day, they had won the war, their closest friends were all alive and thriving in the beginnings of rebuilding.

And above it all, he had won Katara's heart and she had won his.

So when he felt the first of what would have evolved into many yawns if he continued to stand on the balcony build up, he maneuvered his hand out of hers, scooched over and planted his feet firmly on the ground, speaking as he turned toward the door.

"We should get some sleep."

"You're right, but Aang?"

"Yes?" He turned back around to see her grasping onto her upper arm as she spoke.

"I'll teach you, how to heal."

If it had been any other time of day, he would have thanked her over and over with uncontrollable excitement, but he was exhausted so he settled for pulling her into a hug, "thank you, Katara."

"You're welcome," she insisted, squeezing tightly for a moment before he pulled away to see a mischievous glint in her eyes, "and I know who you can practice on."

…

"Katara? You're sure about this?" Sokka's voice wavering hit Aang with a pang of doubt even as he overexplained his thought process, "not that I don't trust you or anything, of course I trust you, but my leg is almost back to a hundred percent and-"

"If it goes wrong, then I'll take over," Katara cut off his ramblings as she gathered her supplies from the other side of the room, "but unlike Zuko, you'll actually tell Aang and I if something feels off."

"Yeah, I guess I have him beat there," Sokka shrugged as he sat down in the wooden chair, propping his left leg on the ottoman, "have you heard anything about how he's doing?"

"As far as I know, he's back to usual activity."

"So he gets to go back to normal a month after getting his insides fried like fire flakes, but I still have to use a crutch when I'm nearly better?"

"Mai and the royal physician are keeping a very close eye on him and will alert me at the first sign of things going south, but he insisted on getting to work on repairing the Fire Nation," Katara elaborated, her hands expertly guiding the blade that was removing the old bandages around his leg, "also, he wasn't the one who refused to let me look at his injuries for five days."

That comment made Sokka go quiet, no longer a distraction to Aang's shaking hands as he knelt down beside Katara with full access to the injured limb decorated in the final stages of healing bruises.

"I'm not gonna hurt him if I do this wrong, right?"

"No," Katara insisted while bending the water out of her water-skin and holding it in between her palms, "the worst you could do is nothing, and like I said, Sokka will tell us if something feels wrong. Won't you, Sokka?"

"Yep."

"Okay."

"Are you ready?"

Aang nodded, and bent the small current out of her palms, holding it in between his own as he awaited her instructions.

"Healing wounds with water, it uses the water as a catalyst to redirect the energy paths in the body; by focusing more energy on the wounded area, it accelerates the healing process. That's why Sokka is actually able to put some of his weight on his leg instead of all on the crutch."

Aang nodded, absorbing her words as he bent the water over one of the yellowish-green bruises on Sokka's lower leg, his hands hovering over it as his tongue slipped out with concentration.

"Can you feel the energy in the bruises, how it's all tensed up under the skin?"

Aang shook his head, allowing Katara to gently guide his arms upwards toward Sokka's thigh, "what about now? The energy in his upper leg is loose and flowing because it was mostly uninjured, but…" she trailed off, guiding his palms back down towards the bruising, "because his leg was broken here, it's tighter and at a near stand-still."

Aang furrowed his brow; he had bent energy just last month when he had removed Ozai's bending, but all he could feel under his palms were the ends of the hair on Sokka's legs being pulled toward him in the water.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't feel anything." He finally stuttered as he slumped backwards and pulled his knees to his chest, allowing Katara to take the water from his palms and focus on the bruising.

"Yagoda said it can take months to learn how to feel the energy inside someone else's body, that it can be subtle if the wound isn't as severe."

"Seriously, Aang," Sokka spoke up, clearly trying his best to add to the reassurance that his sister was giving him, "my leg is almost completely healed. You'll get it with a fresher wound, I know it."

Aang still couldn't help but sigh, rest his head on his bent knees and wrap his arms around them while Katara worked miracles like it was the easiest thing in the world.

2. A Second Chance

The trip to Ba Sing Se ended up ending three days earlier than expected when a messenger hawk from the Fire Nation flew into Katara's window at the inn with a loud call that had Aang rubbing his eyes in confusion next door.

It took ten minutes for her to open his bedroom door, dressed for the day as she announced while adjusting her water-skin, "we need to get to the Fire Nation."

Katara had always been the one who kept Aang and Sokka on track throughout their travels and always remained serious when the situation required it, so he knew it was bad the moment her eyes met his and after pulling on his own clothes, went straight to Appa to get him ready for the trip.

By the time he had the saddle and reins tightened and his luggage in the saddle, Katara walked over with a determined stride, throwing her bag into the saddle with ease.

"Sokka is staying to finish the last of the discussions with King Kuei and Suki is on her way here to help out." Katara explained as she climbed into the saddle, her face set with a fixated worry that Aang knew all too well.

He didn't hesitate to lift himself onto Appa, flicking the reins with a "yip yip" and waiting until they had passed over the lower ring of Ba Sing Se before finding it in himself to ask, "it's Zuko, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," Katara's strained voice filled his gut with a nauseating worry, "you'll get to practice healing him after all."

That statement only filled Aang with even more dread as they streamlined towards Capitol City.

…

"Are you still having trouble breathing?"

"The royal physician really shouldn't have scared Tao and Mai like that, or you two-"

"Zuko, that is not what I asked," her snappy tone not only had Aang sitting straight up in the chair, but also stunned the newly crowned Fire Lord into silence, "you're lucky Tao sent for me and that I know how to redirect excess energy in the body."

"Wait, you do?" Aang spoke up, getting a quick smile from Katara as she continued to hold the water just above the scar tissue that matched his own to a T.

"It's part of healing; you can direct more energy to a injure to heal it, but an excess of tense, jumbled up energy can cause more harm than good so you may need to pull some away," she explained before making eye contact with Zuko who was raising a confused eyebrow, "I'm teaching him."

Aang stood up to get a closer look; they had arrived to a tense chaos that had resulted in Katara tell him to stay back while she took care of the pressing issue of Zuko struggling to breathe along with the muscle spasms, but now that the dust had settled, she silently took a step to the side so he could observe.

Despite happening a month ago and the healing that Katara had provided multiple times a day for the first week after it had happened, the lightning scar was still jagged and an angry red that started at the bottom of Zuko's chest, traveled up into his right shoulder before snaking around to his back.

It was all too reminiscent of blinking up at Katara before awakening weeks later with bandages covering a good chunk of his body and dark hair covering the top of his skull in a way that made his stomach churn.

"Alright, Aang," Katara's voice brought him back to reality, reminding him that he was not in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se, as she hovered a small stream of water in between her palms, "are you ready to give it a go?"

"Y-yeah," he stuttered before shaking his head and trying again, "yeah, I'm ready."

"Okay," she nodded, bending the water toward him slowly so he could take control, "Zuko, considering your internal organs are what we're working on, you really need to let us know if something doesn't feel right."

Aang could see Zuko fix his jaw and grip the edge of the blanket with a stiff nod that made him sweat, but he pulled in a long, deep breath and awaited instruction.

"Start at the shoulder and work your way down slowly. I worked out most of the energy in his chest, but there's still a lot at the entry point. It shouldn't overwhelm you if you don't rush."

Aang nodded, holding the small amount of water over the red markings on Zuko's shoulder; it wasn't like Sokka's leg, he could feel the energy Katara was talking about in the form of jumbled, irritated nerves under his fingers even if they felt impossible to get to.

He closed his eyes, trying to picture the energy twisting around itself that was causing his friend more pain than necessary and only starting to untwist it with his fingers once he was sure that he had a good hold on it.

"You're doing great, Aang," he heard her praise as he opened his eyes for a few minutes before her voice moved away from over his shoulder, "Zuko? Are you still with us?"

"Yes."

"Feel any different? Less tense?"

Zuko pulled in a breath that sounded a bit shaky, but when he nodded in agreement to Katara's question, Aang relaxed, closed his eyes again and continued to slowly move downward toward the base of the wound.

The twisting only grew under his fingertips as he moved downward as his forehead became sticky with exertion, but he pressed on.

"Aang?" Katara asked as he found himself biting the inside of his cheek while trying to untangle a particularly strong bunch of energy, "do you need a break?"

"N-no, I'm okay."

"Aang, I really think you need to take a break." She tried again, her voice still gentle but no longer asking, but Aang shook his head, using the water in his palms to pull at the twisting that was trying to knot itself inside of Zuko.

"I've almost got it, just let me-"

He rose in the air, eyes and arrows glowing in the reflection of the Dai Li armor, and focused his eyes for a brief moment on Katara as he continued to beam upwards.

Only for a shock to fill his entire body and send him falling to the ground as he lost consciousness.

Aang pulled away from the lightning wound with a large 'splash' as the water fell from his palms and onto Zuko, Katara and the bed but all he could focus on was the tightness in his throat and the pressure in his lungs.

"Aang-"

But before he could hear any of them out, he stood and ran out the doors even after hearing someone call out his name, trying desperately to catch his breath while it lodged in his throat.

"It's over," he tried to reassure himself as he slid down against the wall, pressing his eyes against his shaking hands, "y-you're not there any more. It's over."

He swallowed harshly to try and remove the lump in his throat and managed to pull his teary eyes from his hands before Katara walked into the room.

Even when she slid down beside him and told him "it's okay", he still found his chest rising and falling faster as he wiped tears off of his cheeks.

"You didn't hurt anyone, we're all okay," she insisted, gently pressing her palm against his upper back, "are you okay, Aang?"

"I s-should be past it now," Aang stuttered, leaning closer against her chest and taking in the sound of her calm, deep breaths to try and slow his own, "it was months ago."

"But you're not. Injuries like that, especially ones that are so fresh, can be really triggering. It happens to the best of us, okay?"

'You're not there. It's over.' His mental reassurances were doing nothing to calm the rapid 'thump' of his heartbeat as he finally managed to get himself to voice his concern to Katara.

"Can we take a break? From you teaching me about this?" He pleaded as he made eye contact with her, "I just…I think I need a bit longer to recover."

"Of course," Katara nodded instantly as she pressed a soft kiss to the back of one of his shaking hands, "we'll take as long as you need."

3. Beginning Again

It was supposed to be a simple trip to Omashu, for more discussions about rebuilding and bills and financial aid that would inevitably fall on Zuko's selfless shoulders.

But the uprising of Ozai supporters throughout the nations had only steadily grown in the two years after Zuko had taken the throne, so when it was revealed that all five of them needed to make the trip to Omashu, it didn't take long for them to settle on traveling together with the Kyoshi Warriors as part of the security force.

For the first couple of days, as they all crowded around a campfire while telling jokes and eating their dinners, Aang couldn't help but find himself longing for the days that they had all traveled as a group.

But it also reminded him that after they finished their business in Omashu, they would go back to being separated as they resumed their duties around the world; while Aang would be forever grateful for the financial support he had received from the other nations to preserve the Air Temples as historical landmarks, it also was a painful reminder that he was the last of his people.

On their third and final day of traveling towards Omashu, the skies opened up and poured relentlessly on himself, Katara, Sokka and Appa in the air and the Kyoshi Warriors walking alongside the caravan that held Zuko and Toph, which only continued to add to his growing sadness.

"I get why Zuko is in the caravan, he can barely breathe without someone trying to assassinate him," Sokka complained as he wiped what looked like a cup of water off of his head and onto Appa, who protested with a growl, "but Toph can stick it out with the rest of us."

"She does love the mud," Katara chuckled fondly, bending the rainwater out of her clothes to no avail, "but no matter how much she doesn't act like it, she's also got a target on her back due to her family."

"But Aang is still in the rain, and he's the Avatar!"

"I like the rain," Aang shrugged before reaching forward and scratching against Appa's wet head, "and Appa needs company."

He did not want to think about the storm that had transpired the night he left the Southern Air Temple, and he really didn't want to think about just how tightly he had held Appa's reins in his palms as they were pulled down by the relentless waves.

But before either of the siblings could add to his statement, the sound of an explosion rang out from under them, resulting in Aang gripping the reins so Appa would turn only to see the caravan turned over on its side while the perpetrators started to approach the smoke.

"Katara, Sokka, go get them out!" Aang shouted before grabbing his glider and joining the Kyoshi Warriors on the ground, sending a group of five to the ground with a blast of air before beginning to use his staff to propel them away.

They were severely outnumbered, no matter how many people were chi-blocked by the warriors, all while lightning seared the sky and the rumble of thunder overwhelmed their ears.

Aang hoped that he would be allowed to be involved in the interrogations of the attackers when all of this was over, because why anyone would go through with their plans as rain pounded on armor and had to be continuously wiped from their eyes was beyond him.

He winced at the smell of heavy smoke prevailing despite the downpour, because it meant that the caravan was more than likely rigged, that there was a double agent involved with the transport who could be taking down the Fire Nation from the inside.

But the most distressing part to Aang was that someone had seen the fourteen year old and the eighteen year old getting inside with smiles on their faces, with very long lives and long legacies ahead of them, and went through with an assassination anyway.

No one could see his tears through the rain as a part of him, maybe one of his past lives, demanded that he use the other elements and enter the Avatar state in order to end the ambush in that moment.

The slash of a sword ripping into his upper arm and coating his orange and yellow clothes in red would have been the turning point if a wave of fire hadn't erupted beside him and he was met with the bruised and soot-covered, but very alive, face that belonged to none other than Zuko.

Aang nearly cheered with relief until he saw the grave look on that same dirty face that he sent out another wave of fire.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He demanded, propelling the fire further with a blast of air.

"It's…it's Suki," Zuko stuttered while deflecting a swipe of a sword with his heavily armored wrist, "it's bad."

That's all it took for Aang to glide back into the sky and go to find the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors in the midst of the ambush; the aggressive rain drops did nothing to help him see in the crowd of green, gray, black and red as it dripped off of his skull and into his eyes.

But when he saw the green and yellow behind a rock wall and a flash of blue and white holding one of the warriors tightly in their arms, he knew he had found the right spot and descended inside of the wall.

"I'm gonna go find Katara." Toph insisted as soon as he landed and vaulted over the top of the rock wall, allowing Aang to crouch down beside Suki.

Zuko wasn't lying when he said it was bad; her armor across her stomach was badly slashed and along with it was a growing puddle of dark red that was starting to drip onto the muddy ground.

"I-I know you stopped learning, but is there anything you can do?" Sokka pleaded with a hand in her hair and the other clasped around her slack ones, the rain doing nothing to mask his tears.

It had been two years since he insisted that he needed a break, but his memory clasped tightly onto what he had learned in the month after defeating Ozai.

"I can try." Aang nodded and started to pull the rain out of the sky in order to form a small stream like the one Katara always kept by her side.

As he held it over the gaping wound, he could have sworn that he heard Sokka begging for Suki to "stay with him", the same way he imagined him saying it to Yue, but he did his best to block it out as he closed his eyes to focus.

The only way she was going to live was if he focused on the wound.

Not the fact that the first time he had done this, he had felt nothing. Not the fact that the second time he had done this, he had been left with a panic attack so intense that he had nearly given up on the practice.

'I cannot lose anyone else.'

And with that solemn thought, he pushed down and began to try his best to stabilize any of the veins and nerves that he could, pulling the tired energy away to bring in some that was more alert.

His forehead coated in a sheen coat of sweat when he heard two sets of footsteps run towards them, followed by the familiar shout of his girlfriend, "I'm here! I'm here!" before she settled in beside him.

When he heard the cork on the water-skin pop open, he expected to be pushed away.

"Aang, keep doing what you're doing." She demanded, which surprised Aang, but he did what he was told and kept his eyes closed as he continued to push and pull with the rain water in his palms.

"Her heartbeat is starting to steady."

"Stay with me…stay with me…"

"They…they got away…"

"I think she's almost stable."

That statement had Aang opening his eyes, bending with one palm and blowing into the bison whistle with the other before they started the precarious transport of Suki while her light, shallow breathing echoed against Sokka's chest.

…

Aang had stood on a similar balcony two years ago when he asked Katara to start teaching him how to heal, the two of them bathed in the final rays of the day.

As Aang stood in the first few rays of the morning, he wasn't surprised to be met by Katara looping her hand in his and standing by his side; he was starting to get taller than her, but she just had to reach across to grasp his hand.

"Suki's gonna be okay," she assured him, tucking her hand against his jaw so he was face to face with her ocean-blue eyes that were unable to mask the exhaustion from hours of healing, "you saved her life."

"I didn't save her," Aang pulled his gaze away, feeling Katara tense in her grip on his hand, "that was all you."

"You stabilized her before I got there. She…" Katara trailed off and never finished her sentence, but he knew what she meant.

In the heat of the ambush, Aang had been the only thing that stood between Suki and death's doorstep and in doing so, he had completed the goal that he wanted to accomplish when he first asked Katara to teach him.

"Thanks, Katara." Aang smiled, trying to ignore the throbbing in his upper arm from where the bandages hugged it too tightly.

She dropped his hand and turned towards the door, her gaze lingering on him for a few beats.

"Meet me inside, when you're done?"

"Yeah," Aang agreed, but he found it in himself to take a deep breath and ask, "Katara?"

"Yes?"

"If you're okay with it," Aang turned to meet her eyes, blinking with unfounded curiosity in a way that made his heart melt, "I want to get back to learning how to heal."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive," he stopped to reach forward and grip her forearm gently before tacking on, "Sifu Katara."

Aang was nearly swept off of his feet when she pulled him forward against her lips; she tasted like the rainfall and the ocean, successfully taking his mind off of the angry pulse of his arm as the sun rays continued to dry out their clothes.

4. By Force

The diplomatic visit to Omashu continued with one of the other Kyoshi Warriors, who was named Reina, taking over Suki's duties.

Unfortunately for Aang, that meant having to try his best to stay awake while various dignitaries droned on and on about financial aid they still hadn't received from the Fire Nation, even though Zuko had made it abundantly clear that the money wasn't there due to Ozai tying their economy into their military, all while his arm throbbed painfully against his sleeve.

The long gash that had adored his clothes in red hadn't seemed important when he was faced with the gravity of Suki's wounds and Sokka's pleas, but two days past the ambush and the few futile attempts of using the river water to heal it had resulted in him looking at the world with tired, feverish eyes while the injury worsened.

The headache that was accompanying the pain wasn't helped as yet another person, he was pretty sure that he had been introduced as a general but Aang's mind was fuzzy, all but screamed at Zuko over some sort of funding that had been temporarily pushed back by a few months.

"-all these people are still suffering because you keep pushing us back to fund the Southern Water Tribe rebuilding efforts and the Air Temple restoration project!"

"I'm sure that you understand why their bills are getting priority, given their history with the Fire Nation despite you insisting that it's favoritism." Even in his feverish haze, Aang could hear the bite in Zuko's voice

"If the Earth Kingdom had lost all of our benders or if there was only one Earth Kingdom citizen left due to a hundred years of war that was caused by the Fire Nation, he would prioritize us higher," Toph added, her voice unusually calm, "and he has already given Omashu and Ba Sing Se hundreds of thousands to restore and rebuild."

He could have sworn that someone said his name, but he rubbed his eyes before looking up, only to see several sets of eyes on him.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I was simply asking if you would be okay with the Fire Nation skipping a few months of financial help on the Air Temple Restoration project in order to even out the payments to the water tribes and the Earth Kingdom."

"I don't have a problem with that," Aang responded, his mouth growing dry with every word he spoke as his head started to spin, "I mean, all of the nations have been so generous with their donations that I can probably restore the entirety of the Southern and Northern Air Temples with the funds I have. The Eastern and Western ones suffered a significant amount of damage, but if I focus on the north after I finish the south, I shouldn't need more payments for at least the next six months."

"So, it's been decided by the Avatar himself," the general's smug face was enough to pull anger from Aang despite his hazy vision as it clicked that he had been used against Zuko, "the Fire Nation will pause their payments to the Air Temple Restoration project until after the Northern Air Temple has been preserved."

"Very well."

Aang winced as he was hit by a wave of nausea and rested his head against his hand, trying to will it away with closed eyes.

"Next order of business, I want to…is he okay?"

"Aang?"

"You okay, buddy?"

"Hey, I think he's going to…"

Aang could feel himself fall forward as his vision spotted into darkness and his hearing ceased.

…

When he finally blinked himself awake in the dim lighting, he wasn't surprised to see Katara's concerned face; he didn't know if it was the fever or the small shed of light in the room that made her eyes look like they were glittering.

"Hey, sweetie," she whispered, reaching over to the side before pressing something blissfully cool against his cheek, "welcome back."

"Did I…" he winced at the scratch in his throat that he tried to clear to zero avail, "did I go somewhere?"

It was only when Katara wiped her eyes on her forearm that he realized that the glitter was actually tears and that the tears were for him.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"That one guy was angry about funding and I felt really sick the whole time."

"You got injured in the ambush," she filled in, still gently pressing the cool cloth to his face, "were you taking care of the wound?"

"I tried to heal it, with the water in the river," Aang explained, only to get a soft shake of Katara's head as a response that made him flush with embarrassment, "not my wisest move."

"River and rain water can work in a pinch, like when you stabilized Suki," she started to explain as she pulled the cloth away before gently cutting through the clean, thick bandages around his bicep, "but for future reference, you really want to use clean water so it doesn't get infected."

He nodded, wincing at the bite of the sting that made its way through his left arm, before finding it in himself to fill the silence.

"I'm sorry for scaring you, Katara. I'm sorry for scaring everyone, but especially you."

"It got us out of "let's scream at Zuko for five hours", so I doubt they'll hold it against you," she explained with a quick smirk before her brow furrowed in concentration, "as for me, try not to scare me like that. Okay, sweetie? I like you too much."

"Understood, Sifu Katara," he insisted, eliciting a small laugh out of her, "do you need to go back?"

She shook her head with unwavering determination, "I'm not leaving you until I know you're better, and that's final."

Aang couldn't help but smile with relief as she leaned in for a quick peck on her lips before returning her attention to his inflamed wound.

5. Refusal

Republic City always felt like a breath of fresh air to Aang.

While places like Ba Sing Se, Capitol City and Wolf Cove felt so isolated in their own traditions and practices, The United Republic was the best of all the nations all in one place.

It was the closest thing he had to a place he belonged in a world without airbenders.

It had taken several long years to bring the small city called Cranefish Town into the largely populated Republic City, but with the support and financial aid left over from the Air Temple Restoration project, it became a reality.

It certainly helped Aang's case by having the Kyoshi Warriors, the Fire Lord, the newly elected Chairman of the United Republic, the chief of police and most importantly, Katara, on his side.

But today, he and his wife weren't in the city on political business; with Sokka and Suki insisting that they take Bumi and Kya off of their hands, they were finally taking some time to enjoy themselves for the first time since Kya was born a month ago.

"I've missed this, you know," Aang insisted, his fingers wrapped tightly around Katara's in the midst of the bustling crowd outside one of the new Fire Nation restaurants, "just us."

However, he was met with a soft sigh, "you have work, don't you?"

"I just need to get some crime reports from Toph so I can discuss it with Zuko and Sokka next week," he insisted with a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, "it should only take five, ten minutes," another sigh that had his hand lingering back down to hers, "after that, I am all yours. I swear."

"I know, I know…" she sighed, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

"Hey, Katara," he spoke gently, the same way he did when he got out of their bed to soothe their daughter so she could continue to rest, "what's wrong? What did I do?"

"It's nothing, you didn't do anything, it's just stupid hormones."

Aang had a feeling that it was more then the lingering effects of postpartum hormones, but he had learned after Bumi that it was Katara's signal that she did not want to talk about it, so he pulled her in by the shoulder and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her head, "five minutes and then it's just us, okay? No work, no bending, no stopping bad guys, just me and you."

"Okay," she nodded, her ocean-blue eyes still shiny with tears even as she tried to change her demeanor with a fake smile, "let's go see Toph."

The police station wasn't far from where they had wandered to after putting Appa in the care of the farmers who watched over the traveling animals while their owners toured Republic City.

However, when he held the door open for Katara before following closely behind her, he expected Toph to look up from her desk in the middle of the room and sense their presence, or to be met by one of the officers telling them that she was out on a case.

Aang did not expect to see Toph sitting in a chair in the middle of the room with a towel held to her forehead as a trickle of blood dripped down the right side of her face.

"Toph!" Katara shouted in shock, making Toph wince as her unseeing glance was tilted up at the ceiling.

"Hi to you too, Sugar Queen, Twinkletoes," she greeted, her voice strangled from the pain, "give me a minute and I'll get those reports to you."

"Are you- you're hurt, Toph," Aang sputtered as he walked over and set his hand on her bent knee, only growing more alarmed when she didn't shove him off with her free hand, "what happened?"

"Oh, the usual, ran off after a group of vandals, missed the curb and-" she cut herself to smack her hands together, only to grimace from both the noise and taking the towel off of her forehead which she promptly returned to the jagged gash.

"Did you get checked for a concussion?"

"It's not a concussion, Sweetness. All I did was eat shit in front of new recruits," Toph waved her free hand with dismissal, "since then, the new guys don't want to take their eyes off me or let me do my job, but I'm thinking about asking my councilman buddy if he can make some legislation about officers being barefoot because I cannot see jackshit in these stupid shoes."

Aang took a glance down at her metal boots, built just like the rest of her armor, before looking back up at her; before he could respond, however, Katara's water-skin was all but shoved into his palms.

"Toph, where are the reports?"

"Second drawer of my desk, left side, at the top. Can't miss them."

"I'll go get them. Aang here is gonna take care of that gash." Katara insisted with a wink of encouragement before disappearing into Toph's office and leaving him in disbelief with the water-skin as the lingering recruits filed off into their own areas of the building.

"Do you know what the hell you're doing, twinkletoes? And don't think that I don't remember the ambush and the comet."

Aang wanted to retort that in the years since the ambush, he had become a pro at healing Bumi's skinned knees, but he knew that it would only raise Toph's doubt and result in some very clever retorts, so he just responded with a simple, "yes, I know what I'm doing."

"I'll just wait until Katara gets back, if that's okay. Besides, it's funny to get all these new recruits to squirm," despite the pain lines around her mouth and what looked like tears in her eyes, her grin was wide enough that Aang felt comfortable slinging his wife's water-skin around his shoulder, "Kaito told me two of them passed out once they saw the blood."

"Glad to see you're in good spirits, at least," Aang couldn't help but smile, but there was a flicker of doubt across Toph's face that left him asking, "unless there's something that you want to tell-"

"I'm pregnant."

"Oh, well, congratulat-"

"The father isn't staying," Toph rubbed her eyes with her free hand and if she hadn't been crying before, she definitely was now, "and I don't know if me falling hurt the baby, not to mention it wouldn't have even happened if I wasn't wearing these spirts-damned shoes-"

"Hey, hey, Toph," Aang cut her off, moving his hand off of her knee to her shoulder, "Katara and I are here for you, okay? We'll help you figure it out."

"Help her figure out what?" Katara questioned as she approached with the stack of papers in hand, "and I thought you were gonna heal her."

"I need to talk to you, in my office, alone," Toph explained as she stood before Aang could open his mouth, "don't worry, Twinkletoes, I'm not gonna arrest her."

Aang passed off the water-skin and took a seat outside of the office with the crime reports in hand.

He wasn't sure how long he sat in the near-silent police station and while he was glad that the crime rate was low, he was also growing antsy in dreading anticipation no matter how much he tried to fall back on his meditation lessons he had received as a young boy.

But with one creak of the door opening, he found himself on his feet as Katara walked out while still talking to Toph.

"-really need to take it easy, though. I'll talk to Sokka about the shoes when we pick up the kids."

"I'll be more careful, but I won't promise to take it easy. I do have an entire city to keep in check," Toph insisted with a small, red line marking the place where the jagged gash had once been, "but thank you, for everything."

"Of course," Katara insisted, pulling her into a hug that Aang watched from a few steps away until his wife grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the group hug with a "come on, sweetie."

In the warmth of the group hug, Aang couldn't help but feel twelve years old for a few peaceful but brief seconds.

6. Bittersweet

It had been a very long day in Republic City.

He no longer found himself getting involved with the police force unless he was dropping in to grab the reports for Sokka to look over at the monthly meeting between the two of them and Zuko.

Zuko hardly showed up to them any more, growing much more reserved like he had been as a tenager after the recent passing of Iroh, but they still left a spot for him that was more often than not taken by Mai in his place with yet another apology for his absence.

This time, however, the three of them had gone over the reports to find something chilling encased neatly in between the vandals that always seemed to rise every time Toph put the last ones away as well as the growing tensions between benders and non-benders.

The name "Yakone" had come up many times over the years; a man who had deep ties to the criminal underworld of Republic City, but Toph had never been able to get together a rock-solid case against him; Aang knew that no matter how desperate she got to put Yakone away, that what he was reading had to be reality and in that reality, his stomach clenched.

"At least a dozen witnesses to his bloodbending?" With the way Sokka's voice cracked like a teenager as he read it aloud and his face adopted a grayish tone, Aang knew that his thought process was similar to his own, "but it's been outlawed for years. The last known practicer died a long time ago."

"Aang, I hate to ask you this, but is there any way that-"

"No," Aang cut Mai off, unable to hide the snap in his tone despite her obvious reason for asking, "Katara would never be involved with something like this."

He did not mention the nights during the first few years of their marriage where he woke up to her lurching out of sleep in a cold sweat with blood dripping from her nose; neither of them needed to know how much her experience with Hama still haunted her.

Mai had nodded and moved on, but Aang still thought about it through the rest of the meeting and on the way home; he knew that Toph would be bringing a new charge and with it, a new arrest against Yakone, but he also knew that there was still a chance it wouldn't stick.

But he didn't have to think about that tonight.

The biggest thing he had to worry about on the safety of Air Temple Island was if Tenzin had gotten so caught up in toddling behind Kya that he had received yet another black eye from hitting it against the dining room table.

That only made him opening the door to Bumi cackling as he swung the sword that Sokka had gifted him a few months before on his birthday while Kya threw small but impressive snowballs at him that much more shocking.

"What?" He started, instantly gaining Kya's, who dropped a puddle of water around her feet, and Bumi's, who lowered the sword with a look of surprise and guilt in his eyes, attention, "is going on in here?"

It did not surprise him when the eleven and five year old instantly pointed at the other one with a simultaneous shout of "he/she started it!"

"Okay," Aang sighed, taking a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose before redirecting his eyesight at his daughter first, "Kya, I want you to go get a couple of the towels and clean the water off of the floor," he waited until she walked to the laundry room before turning his attention on his eldest son, "Bumi, where are your mother and brother?"

"Mom's been really quiet since she got back from getting some groceries in the city, she's in her room and Tez is…he was just in here, I swear."

Aang took one look behind the large bookcase and was met with a bright set of gray eyes and two hands reaching up towards him in response.

"He's back here because swords and waterbending aren't exactly baby proof." He explained while reaching behind the bookcase to pull his youngest child out, who was thankfully unharmed in the latest show of sibling rivalry.

"Tenzin is nearly three, he's not a baby any more."

"Maybe not, but he was frightened enough to wedge himself between the wall and the bookcase."

"How do you know that he didn't do it because he was exploring?"

"Bumi, enough," Aang cut the back and forth before it grew out of hand, "you need to put that sword away in its case and when your mom is feeling up to it, all of us are going to have a long conversation about when to use our abilities, bending or not. Do you understand?"

"Yes, dad."

"Okay. Did you three get dinner?" He didn't know what kind of day Katara was having or what could have caused her sudden silence, but he could try and gauge it by if the kids had been fed before eight p.m.

"Mom made sea prune stew, but she let me help with the dumplings." Bumi's excitement, despite the trouble he was still very much in, was infectious and filled Aang with joy as he pictured the scene in his head, "did you want some, dad?"

"No, I'll find some food after I talk to your mom," Aang insisted, pressing a kiss to his head, "go get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay," Bumi agreed, hugging him with the sword free arm and he hugged back with the Tenzin free arm, "goodnight, dad."

"Goodnight, Bumi."

It didn't take long for Tenzin to get settled in the small bed next to Bumi's, eight was pushing it for his bedtime, and while Kya insisted that he read her two of her many, many books that covered her bedroom, she too was out like a light by the time he was halfway through the second one.

But now that all three of the kids were asleep, it left Aang with nothing to do but slowly make his way into their shared bedroom and get to the bottom of the tension that was filling the silence.

"Katara?" He whispered toward the lump in the bed with the blanket over their head, only getting a slight shift in response, "Katara, it's me."

"Aang?" No longer clouded by the shaking of sobs, but the crack in her voice made it clear that she had been in distress and he hadn't been here to hold her in his arms.

"Hey," he muttered, only seeing the reality of the situation when Katara lifted the blanket off of her head and met his gaze with red, puffy, watering eyes, "I'm so sorry, I should have been here-."

"It's not…" a shudder wracked her body as she sat up and pulled her knees to her chest which had Aang climbing on the bed and pulling her all too cold frame against his body, "it's not your fault."

"What happened?"

"Toph brought me in today."

"What?"

"She wanted to know how Yakone…Hama's been dead for years, so her next logical suspect was…but I swear, Aang, I didn't-"

"I know you didn't," Aang cut her off, pressing a kiss against the side of her head, "I know that you, who spent so many years getting it outlawed, would never do that."

"Thank you. For believing me."

"I would be a horrible husband if I didn't," Aang responded, getting a soft laugh as he interlaced his hand in Katara's, "I'm helping Toph bring him in tomorrow."

"Did she ask you to?"

"No, she doesn't even know I'm coming, but I need to make sure he ends up behind bars."

"You don't have to piss Toph off for me," Katara insisted, wiping her face on her wrist, "just knowing that she actually has enough evidence to get him put away is enough."

"Hey, I'm the Avatar, remember?" Aang questioned with a soft smile on his face, "I have to make the world safe and that includes my world." With that, he rested his hand on the back of her neck before gently pulling her in for a long, warm kiss.

At least, it would have been if he hadn't heard the small whimper of pain escape from her lips when his hand grazed her left shoulder so he could have a better hold on her.

"Your shoulder is hurting again?"

She had injured her left shoulder years ago while the two of them were in the Fire Nation to help with the birth of Zuko and Mai's daughter, Izumi, but she had ended up being one of the people holding off yet another assassin attempt that had resulted in her getting thrown against the wall.

Seeing her that injured had terrified Aang in a way that still haunted him even now, knowing that he could lose Katara to a few firebenders despite her own power and the very powerful people that she kept close.

Katara had delivered Izumi two days later and despite the joy filling the nations, the two of them didn't know that the injury to her left shoulder would result in a constant state of pain that varied in severity by the day.

"It's not that bad right now," she insisted, but Aang still got up and plucked her water-skin from the nightstand, "sweetie, we both know that doesn't work."

"It helps though," he pointed out, bending the water out of the water-skin and holding it over the permanently twisted nerves, feeling her slump in relief under his fingertips as he worked out the tension that would inevitably be back, "is that better?"

"Just…hold it there, for a bit longer."

"Whatever you say, Sifu Katara." That nickname always got her to smile, even on her bad days.

"I'm not sure you can still call me that," she said around her infectious grin, "you've been healing skinned knees for ten years now."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"I didn't say that."

Her shoulder was as relaxed as he could get it, so he bent the water away and back into the water-skin before climbing into their bed beside her, letting her rest her head against his arm.

"I'll call you whatever you want me to call you," Aang whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead as her eyes fluttered shut contently, "goodnight, sweetie."

He listened to her soft breaths in the darkness for a very long time that night as guilt clawed at his heart for never being able to take away her pain permanently, that her physical pain had limited her from using the majority of the training she had fought so hard to be included in back in the North Pole and that her mental anguish from being forced to manipulate his blood was still impacting her so negatively all these years later.

Aang could only hope that making sure that the last blood bender would remain behind bars for the rest of his life would bring just as much relief as the water had brought her that night; more importantly, he desperately hoped that Yakone's imprisonment would bring Katara permanent relief from the anxiety that was seemingly always holding her tightly in its grasp.

17 notes · View notes