Forfeits, Fears, and Demigods

Summary: After a 100 year hiatus, Katara discovers her new editor-in-chief is the famed Avatar – only after she discovers he's sweet on her. If she wants to keep her job, no one can know about their office rendezvous, or Aang's secret status. Modern AU, Multi-Chaptered. Kataang, Tokka. Rated M.

Author's Note: I have three fictions on this website I feel inclined to apologize for: "Fortune Cookies," "Big City White Boys," and "What Happens in the Swamp" – all unfinished, all somewhat premature in their development. Before any of you jump to their defenses, believe me that as the author, I feel these fictions lack in dimension and artistic prose.

That said, I hope this story, in some way, will make up for them.

This is not to say that I do not intend to finish them (though I may never finish them despite the good intentions). Just believe me that I can do better (such a subjective word!).

And of course, love me, hate me – all the same – just review me, my dear readers.

Much love, your honored scorpiaux

The rumors that preceded Aang's arrival in the office were numerous, some bizarre, but all were fundamentally true.

Firstly, he was young. Some twenty-three years old – if even that – freshly shaved and freshly graduated from a prestigious university in the Fire Nation. Secondly, and contrary to this point, he was a direct descendent of the Air Nomads, the very people the Fire Nation Army sought to extinguish some fifty years ago. With the war newly over, and only a few descendants remaining, Aang was a living relic. He had sought refuge in the humanities and found it, the successful outcome of minority scholarships and funds, and so when Gaoxing Lunwen Press offered him an interning position, Aang jumped at the chance. The residing editor, an old Air Nomad by the name of Gyatso, quickly turned Aang into his successor over the course of a single summer.

There were other rumors, certainly – those of the frivolous variety. Aang was single and conventionally attractive. He shaved his head like the ancients did but wore modern garments. The small swirling arrow tattooed above his right brow moved with his expressions – and he was quite expressive, always grinning ear to ear except when consumed with his work. He made bad jokes and loved puns. He went to the gym. Not daily, but enough. He always wore a gray suit to the office with a pressed yellow or orange shirt. The only part of this ensemble that changed daily was the tie. Some humorous, some fashionable, some plain, Aang wore a different tie every weekday.

No one saw him on the weekends. No one asked about his family – though if anyone did, it would have been Gyatso. After Aang's interning summer, no one saw him during the fall season. He seemed to dissipate as quickly as he had appeared. Then, in January, Gyatso announced suddenly he had chosen a successor.

Then there were the snide remarks, the prejudice, the general jealousy.

Why had Gyatso chosen some lowly intern? Just because he hailed from the same race? After a summer of fetching coffees and wrestling with the copy machine, suddenly Aang was qualified to run an entire office. It was unfair to overlook those with more experience simply because they did not match Gyatso's esthetic ideal. This left many embittered in the office, but most notable was the busy-bee, and Gyatso's secret favorite (though, as it turned out, only the second favorite): the Water Tribe graduate, Katara.

At twenty-seven years, Katara was the youngest member of Gaoxing Lunwen prior to Aang's arrival. She had dedicated five years of her post-graduate life to the institution, which sought to bring cultural and historic facts to the public. All the books, articles, and journals published by Gaoxing Lunwen were educational. Editorial pieces were closely monitored and carefully evaluated before going to press. To date, and despite her age, Katara was quickly becoming the most prolific contributor to the press. Her sole focus was reviving the dying arts, educating what she considered an ignorant public, and – selfishly so, but true nonetheless – establishing a name. True to her heritage, Katara specialized in Water Tribe culture, history, society, and philosophy. But her secondary interest – and a quickly budding one, at that – was the world's underdog, the Air Nomads.

A year ago, Gyatso mentioned to the company that he wanted a young successor to take his place. He estimated a two year wait before making his decision, and at the time, Katara believed she was a certain choice. She was, after all, the youngest. And she and Gyatso were friends.

She spent Wednesday mornings in Gyatso's grand mahogany office, chatting over soy lattes about anything from grand historic events to the most recent applying authors. They discussed the weather, or Katara's eccentric brother – a freelance poet and painter newly embracing cubism and nudes. Gyatso often mentioned his late copy editor (Katara assumed they were lovers though Gyatso would never fess up to it) or old friends. There were days Katara mustered up the bravery to ask Gyatso about his generation, or the Fire Nation attacks, but his eyes would glaze over in a silent plea to pause.

Despite her interest and investment, Katara knew when to stop. In her five years with the company, she had yet to finish reading all of Gyatso's research.

In this respect, though she was interested in the new employee, Aang's arrival introduced a tension Katara had never anticipated. Here was this grinning young fool, younger than her and possibly stupider, already in a position she had dreamed of since her undergraduate days. She felt cheated, and the sentiment resonated deep because of her respect for Gyatso, a man she cherished like a grandfather.

He had broke the news to Katara first, and – not knowing how to react – she had politely left his office with a sour taste under her tongue. Gyatso had presented Katara with Aang's file. Outside of the handsome photo, his credentials were otherwise unremarkable.

A fellow office member shook her from her impending self-pity. Suki clasped Katara's shoulder and she jumped. "Why the gloomy face, hun? Long day ahead?"

"Something like that."

"What did Head Fossil want?"

"Don't call him that," Katara warned over the coffee pot.

Suki said with a wink, "Journalism seeks the truth, yes?"

"Sometimes we are misled, it seems."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Katara stirred in a packet of sugar. Without lifting her gaze from her Styrofoam cup she said, "Looks like Gyatso is calling back the intern."

"The bald kid?"

"Shaved." She hesitated, unsure how to continue. "He's only twenty-three."

"A baby," Suki stated. She reached for a cup herself. "He'll get eaten alive here."

"I don't doubt it."

Suki raised a brow and elbowed the younger girl in the ribs. "He was kind of cute."

"Suki, please."

"My apologies, O Sacred Virgin Water Tribe."

"Knock it off." Katara laughed despite herself and took a sip. She considered telling Suki of Aang's new position but decided against it. She would find out in due time.

The rest of the day continued on in a blur, the hours long and blending. The deadline for two projects was fast approaching, but Katara couldn't find the will to work. It was as if her finish line, once close and in view, had extended several hills away. Slumped on her desk, Katara threw her hands in her hair and considered her misfortune. She could forfeit her position to Suki. She could quit, right then and there. Gyatso probably expected as much. Or did he expect her to stay on board despite the fact her promotion had been thwarted, possibly permanently?

"He knows I live for this company," Katara hissed to herself. "That asshole."

She immediately regretted badmouthing her supervisor and, troubled, she looked at her blank screen. Suki was typing away furiously in the glass cubicle across from her, her mouth pouting in focus, a few stray strands of hair swaying with her darting movements. Suki's prose needed work. It was too raw, not artful enough. Gyatso complained of its dryness by complimenting its "stark honesty." Katara was sure she was the only one who knew this was intended as a criticism. That was so like Gyatso, avoiding addressing the problem head-on. That's where Katara was necessary. She was the force behind any changes that happened here.

Her office phone buzzed and Katara pressed the speaker, suddenly irritated. "I'm here. What does he need?"

"He says his intern is coming and he wants you in the office," the secretary reported.

"Right this second?"

"Yes, Miss Katara."

"Grand, grand. I'll be there soon."

Groaning, Katara slipped on her blazer and checked her face in her pocket mirror. She didn't want to look upset or pissed. She would greet this new arrival with the same respect and professionalism she always used with her coworkers. Even if it was unfair. Even if he was some foolish kid. "For Gyatso," she said to herself. She locked her office door behind her and made a path down the hall.