Prompt 7: Safe

"This is all my fault."

Katara rolled her eyes at her husband's words, not surprised that he had found some way to put the blame on himself. Reaching over, she gathered his tattooed hand in her own, squeezing it tightly in reassurance.

"Aang, there's nothing we could've done," The Avatar made no response, preferring to keep his eyes glued on the tile floor of the emergency clinic. Cerulean eyes tried desperately to capture his gaze, but he was stubborn. He knew the moment he looked in to her eyes, he would break from the guilt.

Just an hour ago, the man had been completely fine. He had been attending a meeting at City Hall regarding the gang activity that had recently increased in the lower half of the city. His head was just about to hit the table in exhaustion when a council page had ran into the room, frantically searching for the Avatar. When Aang saw the boy's face, he knew that the news definitely wasn't going to be good.

Now his head was falling once again, but for a completely different reason.

"I shouldn't have let him start training yet," Aang's voice was low, heavy with the remorse he felt within his heart. "He's only eighteen. Most men don't join the United Forces until they are at least in their twenties."

"Aang, you know that's not true," Squeezing his hand once again, the waterbender ducked her head low to avoid speaking above a whisper. They weren't the only people in the waiting room, but they certainly were causing enough of a scene by just being there. "Bumi's the same age as most of the boys he's training with. Besides, age wasn't the reason he got hurt."

The Avatar clenched his jaw, knowing exactly why their son had been hurt during training.

"It's just not a fair fight."

Katara sighed, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb. "Don't let him hear you say that. Proving his capability to us is what made him join the Forces in the first place."

Aang shook his head, finally tilting to the side to meet his wife's light gaze. The stony color of his irises surprised her, their usual slate color darkened to what more resembled a stormy sky over the bay than anything.

"You aren't the one he's trying to prove anything to," His tone was bitter, the frustration he had been holding back for the past hour, finally coming forth in the form of his words. "I'm the one who he thinks isn't proud of him. I'm the reason he's always putting himself in dangerous situations."

Katara remained quiet, lips pursed as she tried to keep a level head. The blame game was something her and Aang often argued about, their rare fights usually stemming from who was guiltier than the other. But given the circumstances – with their son currently being healed by the exact element that had harmed him – she decided to let it go for the moment.

"Well," Katara sat up straight, her tanned fingers releasing her husband's and finding a new spot on the armrest of her chair, "There's nothing we can do about the past now. We can only focus on the future. We need to decide what we are going to do about Bumi when he gets healed up."

The Avatar slumped his shoulders, a heavy sigh escaping his mouth as he balanced his elbows on his knees.

"I want him to quit," Katara nodded, expecting that type of answer from her husband from the get go. "I never wanted him to join the UF in the first place. He needs to put his skills to good use here in the city where he'll be safe."

"Sweetie, that's not a guarantee," Aang shifted his eyes to her's, taking in the wry smile that appeared on her features. "He was in the city when he got hit by those ice daggers."

"He was training when that happened."

"Well, yes," Katara agreed, her hand moving to rest on the top of his shoulder. "But even if he hadn't been, this could have happened on the streets. People are attacked every day here, you know that."

"Those people aren't purposely putting themselves in dangerous situations."

"They also aren't nearly as skilled as Bumi is, either," Aang pursed his lips at his wife's words, flinching when she gave him another comforting squeeze. "Aang, just because he's not a bender doesn't mean we need to protect him all the time."

Aang huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew he was acting immature, but the overwhelming feeling of guilt that rose up in him was all too familiar. Bumi wasn't the first person he had failed to protect.

Katara knew this. She could see in her husband's eyes that this hurt went far beyond just Bumi's injuries. Taking note of this, she kept quiet – waiting for him to prepare a verbal reply to the statement she had made.

She didn't have to wait long before his shoulders slumped forward, the tension leaving them as he finally gave in.

"I know," His voice was quiet, his words full of guilt. "I know he doesn't need us to protect him. It's just hard having something like this happen and knowing that there are situations that he won't be able to overcome because he doesn't have the ability to bend."

The waterbender nodded in agreement, this conversation shaping up to be just like the ones they had had before. Whenever it came to Bumi, it always came back to this.

"You have no idea how much I want to keep him safe," Aang covered his wife's hand with his own, knowing how hard it was for her to sit back and watch everyone else heal their child. "But I can't hold him back. This is something he wants to do, Aang. Who are we to tell him no? Yes, he got hurt – but do you think when we he walks out of here, he's going to look at us and say 'I want to quit' and be done with it?"

The man sighed, shaking his head and giving his wife a rueful smile. "No, he's probably going to make a joke about all this."

"I'd be worried if he didn't."

Aang was about to reply when the doors of the waiting room swung open, the force causing them to bang against the wall harshly. The desk lady on duty pursed her lips, standing from her chair to scold whoever had just roughly handled the doors – but her words fell flat when she realized who had just entered the room.

"Is he okay?" Sokka's voice was full of fear, his wolftail now hanging haphazardly down the back of his neck from the run he had made from the docks to the clinic. Beside him, Tenzin and Kya stood - both mirroring the anxiety that their uncle was projecting.

Katara was quick to nod her head, the gesture gaining a sigh of relief from her older brother. "He's doing fine. I haven't gone back to check on him yet but the healers told me that he just needs a few stiches. They didn't get him here quick enough for the skin to be healed completely."

Sokka released another puff of air, glad to hear that his nephew was going to be all right. "That page gave us a scare. You're lucky Aang was able to convince me to go pick up the kids."

At their mention, brother and sister stepped forward – still hesitant of the situation at hand. While the nine-year-old Tenzin seemed to be responding more to the nervous energy his uncle was giving off, Kya's wide eyes were full of knowing fear.

"Is he really okay, Mom?"

The waterbender in question nodded, pulling her daughter by the blue silk of her robes, into her embrace.

"He's fine," She murmured into the girl's ear, feeling the tension leave her tiny shoulders as she fully relaxed against her mother. Katara patted the brown curls at the back of her daughter's head, kissing her forehead gently. "I didn't mean for everyone to get so scared. He didn't look that bad when he was brought in."

"Just a few cuts?"

Katara chuckled wryly at Tenzin's question, smiling as the boy moved closer to his father so he could lean on him. "Well, more than just a few. Quite a lot actually – but he was smiling."

"Dummy," Kya muttered, coaxing a laugh from her mother as she was released from her embrace. The twelve-year-old rolled her eyes at her eldest brother's previous actions, but Katara could tell that the words secretly relieved her.

They sat for a few minutes, waiting for news of the boy's condition to come forward. It was moments like this where Katara found herself cursing the clinic's policy against relatives working on their own kin. Her frustration was short lived though. At long last, the doors that led back to the healer's rooms swung open to reveal the source of trouble himself.

"Hi family!"

Bumi could barely get the words out before he was being smothered with hugs.

"Whoa," The wild haired boy chuckled, wincing in slight pain as the bodies wrapped around him disturbed his stiches. "Be careful, I'm fragile."

"Good thing," Katara murmured, tightening her grip on her son. "If you weren't, I would have to water whip some sense into you."

"Ah, Ma," When everyone but Katara had released him from their grip, Bumi wrapped his arms around his mother, returning her embrace. "I only looked away for one second. I didn't realize he was going to throw daggers at me!"

From the various cuts and stiches that the young man had accumulated, one could easily see he hadn't been paying nearly as much attention as he should have been when training, - but the smile on his face showed evident satisfaction.

"See? I'm still in one piece," Bumi released his mother, widening his arms so that she could look him over. "No need to worry about me."

Aang shook his head, wrapping a firm arm around his son's shoulders.

"Bumi, you're lucky you weren't seriously injured."

The man rolled his eyes at his father's words, shrugging out from beneath his arm. "I know, Dad. But this at least proves that I can handle myself."

Kya's brow rose at her brother's words, a smirk appearing on her features.
"I don't know about that, Bum. You did land yourself in the clinic."

"But I'm breathing, that's all that matters."

Aang and Katara shared a look, both rolling their eyes at their son's attempt at nonchalance. They personally preferred him with all his limbs and working lungs, but obviously that wasn't on the boy's list of priorities. After a few words with the lady at the desk, the family finally made their way out into the hall.

Sokka slung an arm over his nephew as they walked down the hall together, telling him some story that involved a sword and a moose lion. The Avatar and his wife followed slowly behind, both watching as the nonbenders interacted some distance in front of them.

"He doesn't need us to keep him safe," Katara murmured, reaching down to secure her husband's hand in her hold.

Though Aang hated the fact, he nodded at his wife's words.

"I don't think he really ever has."