Supernaturally
I said I was going to post this a while ago, but I kept waffling. I wasn't sure how I felt about this, and it's something of an experiment. This morning, I just said screw it, and here it is.
Title: Supernaturally
Characters: Aang/Katara
Rating: K+
Summary: Aang doesn't know who this woman is, but what he does know is that he sees the old Katara trapped inside. All he wants is to see her freed, and he'll do everything he can to bring the old Katara back.
[at ff.net]
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Even when they were together, it always seemed like Katara had been just out of his reach. There was a barrier that kept Aang from knowing her completely, and at times he was conscious of her erecting it purposefully. Demanding that he keep his distance. He knew there was a time when she didn't have that barrier, where she would move entire oceans to keep obstacles out of their way, but after the war-when she would have done anything for him during it-she was too distant, too often trapped in her own thoughts.
They were busy yes, but they could have made time for each other. She was a ghost, and he was always left with the faintest impression of her. The real Katara, the one he'd known, was always running off to help someone else, showering her attention on the needy, the downtrodden, the diplomats and the kings, and he ran after her. She was only running because she was scared, and if she slowed down, he could help her. He could bring her back to who she was.
That woman who stood in front of him with Katara's skin and Katara's eyes and Katara's smile was not Katara. That was someone else. So he chased ghost-Katara through hallways, closing doors and barring windows to trap her where he could get his arms around her, but it was like she could melt through the walls, and when he closed a door, she managed to slide through it anyway. He chased her underneath tables, and walked across the backs of chairs. He would catch a glimpse of her disappearing around the corner and sprint after her, calling to her, but only the not-Katara was there. This witch in Katara's skin with dark, brooding eyes and harsh words.
This one, he would try to side step because he knew his Katara was still there. The girl with the kind smile and unburdened heart, laughing as she skipped down the stairs, light on her feet. He'd see her dancing by a bonfire at a festival, or swimming at the beach. Sometimes he'd see her with Sokka in the South, and he'd approach her like he would a scared animal. Sometimes he could catch her, but never for long. She'd evaporate too quickly, and she'd leave quicker the tighter he clung, so he learned not to hold so tightly, but that didn't make a difference either.
At night, he never saw her. Night belonged to the witchy not-Katara skin-stealer, and she would pervert Katara's beautiful art until it resembled a macabre dance of death aimed at him. Those nights were scariest because he could tell the ghost-Katara still lingered in that shell. She was trapped, and that knowledge would only fuel him, and he would only fight harder to coax her out. He'd battle her water with his wind and call out to her, the ghost-Katara, the real Katara, the beautiful Katara, his Katara, but that only angered the evil witch Koh-Katara, the body stealer, and made her fight harder.
They went penguin sledding, and he could see ghost-Katara beating on the shell, demanding to be let out, and she would, briefly, be allowed to enjoy the fun of sliding down a hill on a penguin. They screamed and yelled, and he was reminded of the first time they went, where she taught him how to encourage the penguins with the fish. They would be sliding down the hill, going so fast, seeing nothing but white, and they would scream and laugh, and the ground would rush up to greet them.
But the she demon, banshee witch, not-Katara, Koh-Katara, body stealer was the one who waited for him at the bottom of the hill. He'd touch her shoulder, and she would turn around, and he'd only catch the faint essence of his Katara, ghost-Katara. He was losing her, and no amount of pleading was bringing her back. His resistance only made the witch demon stronger.
"Would you give it a rest?" she banshee demon witch Koh-Katara, the body stealer would ask.
"No. I can't."
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A/N: Hmmm. I don't hate Aang. I just think, in some ways, he's horribly equipped to deal with the darker world he was shoved into. This is Aang trying to understand the person that Katara's become after the final battle. It's a play on the phrase "shadow of your former self," and this is the Katara that Aang wants-the Katara she was when he first met her. Not sure how well that came through.
On one hand, it's admirable how strong Aang stands with his beliefs. He knows who he is, the type of person he wants to be, and he's not going to compromise on his beliefs. Unfortunately, this can make him willfully blind, and I can see it causing friction with his friends, especially those who've changed a lot. I'm trying so hard to be fair to Aang; it's not always a bad thing that Aang wants Katara to remember who she was at the start of it all. Sometimes a little reminder is helpful. But at the same time, when it comes to deeper emotional issues/scars, I wonder just how good at understanding them he would be. He'd try, there's no doubt about that. Just not sure about his success rate.
Title: Supernaturally
Characters: Aang/Katara
Rating: K+
Summary: Aang doesn't know who this woman is, but what he does know is that he sees the old Katara trapped inside. All he wants is to see her freed, and he'll do everything he can to bring the old Katara back.
[at ff.net]
----------------
Even when they were together, it always seemed like Katara had been just out of his reach. There was a barrier that kept Aang from knowing her completely, and at times he was conscious of her erecting it purposefully. Demanding that he keep his distance. He knew there was a time when she didn't have that barrier, where she would move entire oceans to keep obstacles out of their way, but after the war-when she would have done anything for him during it-she was too distant, too often trapped in her own thoughts.
They were busy yes, but they could have made time for each other. She was a ghost, and he was always left with the faintest impression of her. The real Katara, the one he'd known, was always running off to help someone else, showering her attention on the needy, the downtrodden, the diplomats and the kings, and he ran after her. She was only running because she was scared, and if she slowed down, he could help her. He could bring her back to who she was.
That woman who stood in front of him with Katara's skin and Katara's eyes and Katara's smile was not Katara. That was someone else. So he chased ghost-Katara through hallways, closing doors and barring windows to trap her where he could get his arms around her, but it was like she could melt through the walls, and when he closed a door, she managed to slide through it anyway. He chased her underneath tables, and walked across the backs of chairs. He would catch a glimpse of her disappearing around the corner and sprint after her, calling to her, but only the not-Katara was there. This witch in Katara's skin with dark, brooding eyes and harsh words.
This one, he would try to side step because he knew his Katara was still there. The girl with the kind smile and unburdened heart, laughing as she skipped down the stairs, light on her feet. He'd see her dancing by a bonfire at a festival, or swimming at the beach. Sometimes he'd see her with Sokka in the South, and he'd approach her like he would a scared animal. Sometimes he could catch her, but never for long. She'd evaporate too quickly, and she'd leave quicker the tighter he clung, so he learned not to hold so tightly, but that didn't make a difference either.
At night, he never saw her. Night belonged to the witchy not-Katara skin-stealer, and she would pervert Katara's beautiful art until it resembled a macabre dance of death aimed at him. Those nights were scariest because he could tell the ghost-Katara still lingered in that shell. She was trapped, and that knowledge would only fuel him, and he would only fight harder to coax her out. He'd battle her water with his wind and call out to her, the ghost-Katara, the real Katara, the beautiful Katara, his Katara, but that only angered the evil witch Koh-Katara, the body stealer, and made her fight harder.
They went penguin sledding, and he could see ghost-Katara beating on the shell, demanding to be let out, and she would, briefly, be allowed to enjoy the fun of sliding down a hill on a penguin. They screamed and yelled, and he was reminded of the first time they went, where she taught him how to encourage the penguins with the fish. They would be sliding down the hill, going so fast, seeing nothing but white, and they would scream and laugh, and the ground would rush up to greet them.
But the she demon, banshee witch, not-Katara, Koh-Katara, body stealer was the one who waited for him at the bottom of the hill. He'd touch her shoulder, and she would turn around, and he'd only catch the faint essence of his Katara, ghost-Katara. He was losing her, and no amount of pleading was bringing her back. His resistance only made the witch demon stronger.
"Would you give it a rest?" she banshee demon witch Koh-Katara, the body stealer would ask.
"No. I can't."
--------
A/N: Hmmm. I don't hate Aang. I just think, in some ways, he's horribly equipped to deal with the darker world he was shoved into. This is Aang trying to understand the person that Katara's become after the final battle. It's a play on the phrase "shadow of your former self," and this is the Katara that Aang wants-the Katara she was when he first met her. Not sure how well that came through.
On one hand, it's admirable how strong Aang stands with his beliefs. He knows who he is, the type of person he wants to be, and he's not going to compromise on his beliefs. Unfortunately, this can make him willfully blind, and I can see it causing friction with his friends, especially those who've changed a lot. I'm trying so hard to be fair to Aang; it's not always a bad thing that Aang wants Katara to remember who she was at the start of it all. Sometimes a little reminder is helpful. But at the same time, when it comes to deeper emotional issues/scars, I wonder just how good at understanding them he would be. He'd try, there's no doubt about that. Just not sure about his success rate.