Contemplation over Contemplations

By: Sophie LeBlanc

July 30, 2010

Dedicated to writers block.

Sitting in the Jasmine Dragon, Aang's tea cup emitted steaming warmth against his palms. He sat quietly around a circular table with his hands over his lap. Around the table, Sokka, Toph and Katara sat as well, conversing happily amongst each other. Aang did not contribute much to their conversation, having detached himself from their steady socialization. There lay a sheet of blankness upon his still face. Staring vacantly downward, his colourless eyes appeared dull and voided. Any level of expressional presentation was hidden under his impassive visage, giving the young airbender a lifeless appearance. He sat rigidly in his chair, with his shoulders hunched around his neck and his back arched tensely. Around him, many other Be Sing Se civilians sat quietly and chatted among family and friends. The atmosphere in the tea shop held a calming serenity, which assisted Aang in maintaining his contemplative state of mind.

Aang felt as if there were a billion Mosquito-Bees frantically buzzing around in his mind. They filled his head with an undying drone, pinching and stinging the inside of his brain. He felt numb and inert under the level of deliberation and deep mental activity he forced upon himself. All he could do was think about Katara, and the issue she currently kept from him. He didn't know how to think, or how to interpret Katara's actions – all he knew was the confusion and pain they brought to him. Regardless of how he attempted to distract himself, he couldn't shake his focus off what she had said – it glued itself to the wall of his mind, refusing to leave his conscious.

I still don't feel ready, he replayed for the hundredth time, scrunching his eyes and trying to decipher her words, I'm not ready to tell Aang yet.

The troubled Avatar sighed desperately; what did that mean? Was it bad? Was it good?

It had to be something horrible if she was going out of her way to keep it secret from him. Maybe she's sick, he thought to himself, really sick. The possibility made sense – her irritable behaviour, her earlier stomach sickness, that 'change'and 'weird feeling' she felt a couple days ago... He considered this new theory, wondering if he had finally figured it out.

Aang lifted his hazed eyes and looked to where Katara sat laughing and socializing with Toph and her brother. At once, he noticed how her beaming blue eyes glittered brightly in the light, sparkling like diamonds under the shinning lanterns that hung from the ceiling. Her copper toned skin shone impeccably without any blemish or hint of paleness. Across her face, Katara's smile beamed fully, with glowing white teeth and plump faultless lips. Her voice was clear and untouched, her hair was smooth and shiny, her overall appearance was very bright and lively, and as Aang came to notice all of this he realized that Katara was, as a fact, appearing positively better than she had been all week.

He lowered his eyes again and exhaled heavily. Discovering his proposition to be wrong yet again, Aang found himself in a level of frustration. Of course, he didn't desire or wish for Katara to be sick; all he wanted was to determine what the matter was and to be let back into the life of the woman he loved so much. He felt shadowed and uncertain, standing before a mirror with only half a reflection.

In his rejection and isolation, Aang found himself experiencing a deep hollowness and emptiness, as if he were suddenly only half alive – like a flower without any petals. Katara was the other half to his whole – like the connecting piece to a puzzle. He loved Katara with everything he was. She kept his heart beating, filling it with as much love as it would hold.

She was his oxygen under water, his warmth in the cold, his light in the dark.

Katara completed him, as a portion of his inner self.

Although now, in her secrecy, Aang couldn't help but feel disconnected and sense a degree of detachment from her. He couldn't comprehend why she would want to dislodge herself from him so easily, and put what felt like a distance between them. Why would she want to keep anything from him? What was there to keep? It didn't make sense, nothing made sense.

Staring into Katara's sparkling blue orbs, Aang wondered how she could be so close... but yet so far away.

"Aang, buddy!" Sokka suddenly called from directly beside the quiet airbender. "You've been pretty quiet. What's wrong – your tea not good enough?"

Aang's head shot upwards, as Sokka's voice drilled through his reflective reverie, closing off all his thoughts in a quick second. In his jolt, the tea cup he held in his hands jostled sharply, spilling its' sweltering contents over his lap.

"AH!" Aang's gasped as the boiling heat of the leaf juice burned against his thighs. "Ah! S'hot!"

"Here – I got it!" Katara offered promptly. She quickly raised her hands and bended the watery substance from Aang's clothes, removing its' steaming warmth from against his skin. The coloured water rose easily into the air in a flowing, thick, yellowish-green thread. Gracefully, she lowered the ribbon of tea back into Aangs' cup—which he had tossed upon the table in his urgency.

Aang breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Ka—tara," he stuttered. Awkwardly, as he said her name, the young Avatar felt a sort of hesitance take over him, as if his voice had suddenly gotten stuck in his throat and he were choking over her name. He quickly hit a hard fist against his chest, clearing his throat with a gruffly grunt.

"Nice one, Twinkle-Toes." Toph congratulated from where she sat across the table. "Way to waste a cup of tea."

Aang smiled weakly in response, now rubbing his numb legs.

"That's okay, Aang," Sokka said confidently, wrapping an arm around his brother's shoulder. "Next one's on me."

Aang cocked an eyebrow. "Sokka," he said questioningly. "It's just tea."

"Iroh!" Sokka called into the kitchen.

"Sokka!" Katara hushed reproachfully. "You can't just call across the room like that!"

"Sure I can – I am the Admiral."

"There're other people in here!" She urged.

From behind the tea shop's kitchen counter, Iroh suddenly popped his head into view. He carried a black tea pot and was shelled in a colourful apron with 'The Jasmine Dragon' embroidered across the chest in a lacy, decorative font. Recognizing Sokka's familiar voice, he walked over to their table and greeted his friends warmly.

Sokka patted the blue arrow that ran across Aang's bald head. "We have a bit of a problem," he informed. "Aang spilt his tea."

The Avatar sighed. "It's just tea," he pressed apathetically for a second time.

Iroh shook his head gravely. "No matter its significance, a problem should never be ignored." He offered wisely, "—especially spilt tea."

Turning around, the grand tea maker left to retrieve a clean tea cup for Aang.

Quiet in his seat, Aang's eyes suddenly widened in unexpected realization. Suddenly, as he began drifting off into dense reflection once again, Iroh's inspirational words echoed boldly through his mind: No matter its significance, a problem should never be ignored. Aang recognized that Iroh had been speaking over his obsession for tea upon giving this advice, but, nonetheless, quickly came to realize that his old friend was right – any problem, no matter its magnitude, needed to be dealt with. Any degree of problematic circumstances should never be left to impose stress or pain upon anyone's conscious. Problems and issues did not help anyone; they only left people in anxiety and worry. Without resolution, life would be chaos.

Taking in Iroh's simple wisdom, Aang came to this new understanding. He looked over at Katara and understood, now, what he needed to do – he couldn't drive himself to insanity by ignoring the problem any longer; he needed to directly speak with Katara.

Of course, Aang accepted that confronting Katara would be difficult, and much easier said than done, but he understood that if he wanted to resolve anything, he would have to walk through his hesitation and speak to her about the present situation. To dwell in endless confusion and anxiety was not healthy for any one person. Talking everything out was the only way to clear his conscious, and rid himself of his unyielding nerves. It was time that Aang took things into his own hands.

Iroh returned with a fresh cup of steaming tea.

"I hope you like it – it's Ginseng tea, my favourite," he said to Aang.

"Thanks," Aang returned, taking the fresh cup.

After handing away the tea, Iroh moved his golden eyes to Katara.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything? You haven't tried any of my teas since your arrival," he asked her, recalling the many times the family had come for tea in the past couple weeks of Katara and Aang's visit.

"No, thanks," Katara replied lifting the hand that lay across her lap and waving it in polite rejection. "Not today."

Looking into her eyes, Iroh lifted a sceptical eyebrow, but did not press the matter. His gold gaze leaked deeply through Katara, giving her an awkward sense of visibility. For an instant, she felt naked and revealed as she stared back into his eyes. Abruptly, though as nonchalantly as she could manage, she turned her head, detaching herself from the connection they fleetingly shared.

Iroh dropped his gaze and bid the group evening. He turned around and sauntered away, humming a bright melody to himself under his breath.

"So Admiral, tell Katara some more about your new position," Toph pressed on Sokka, laying an emphasis at his imposing ranking. "I'm sure she isn't finished hearing everything to do during the day."

Hearing her name, Katara lightly rattled her head back and forth, shaking herself from the awkward sensation she momentarily experienced and back to reality. "Yeah..." she said, joining back into the conversation. "Yeah – isn't it a little difficult for you to really do anything Sokka, what with you not being able to bend and all?"

"Pfft" Sokka waved off, "I can still fight – I have the whole sword thing going on you know—and besides—" he added leaning back and crossing his arms complacently, "—the war ended eight years ago; it's not as much that there's anything to prepare for now. It's more that I just give orders and make decisions."

"If you can even do that," Toph smirked.

Katara chuckled. "Yeah, when have you ever posed as a good decision maker?"

"I make plenty of good decisions!"

"Yeah, right," Toph joked sarcastically, taking a mouthful of tea, "Or the time you brought home those Skunk-Tulips, and they sprayed all over you when you tried to pick them – that was also a very good decision."

"They were for you – I thought they were Panda-Lilies!" Sokka protested in his defense. "Common! They look almost the exact same!"

"Or that time you bought that bottle of cherrysider when you and Toph came to visit us back home, and it ended up having extracts of cactus juice in it – that was a good decision." Katara added, crossing her arms contentedly and eyeing her brother smugly.

"It looked tasty!" Sokka protested in his defence.

"I remember that," Toph exclaimed, recalling the memory. "Good times, good times."

Sokka rolled his eyes, taking a gulp of tea.

"Well," Katara continued, "despite those odd moments you've had, you have always been the 'idea guy', Sokka." She looked at her brother appreciatively. In the back of her mind, she took a subtle notice to Aang's quietness.

Satisfied to finally be getting some credit, Sokka smiled. "See, there you go. I have some good qualities."

"Yeah," Toph agreed with a leering smile. "You're only good quality."

Although she couldn't see him, and despite he knew she was only teasing playfully, Sokka squinted tightly at Toph in condemnation. She grinned, spreading a wide smile across her cheeks. It beamed so brightly, it seemed to lighten the black sheets of hair that hung on either side of her flawless face. Her shadowed eyes illuminated dazzlingly for Sokka, placing a grin he couldn't resist upon his grown face. He suddenly felt as if his arms and legs had turned into soft water-pipes, leaving him robbed of his strength with a giddy weakness.

"Just kidding," Toph charmed.

Drinking their tea, the family continued chatting happily amongst each other, reflecting over treasured memories and moments shared together. Aang contributed a minimal share of conversation throughout their remaining time at the tea shop that evening, though predominantly carried on isolating himself in his own quiet, reflective world. Toph, Katara, and Sokka all held an individual awareness of Aang's deep silence, but did not acknowledge his behaviour aloud. Toph was especially attentive of Aang's behaviour, as she could feel all the twisted and intense strain coiled deeply into his core, vibrating loudly against her bare soles. She wondered what was on his mind, but after a moment of brief contemplation she found that she already knew, after remembering what Aang had overheard Katara saying that very morning.

"Well, I'm going to bed." Katara said with a yawn as Aang slid the front door closed behind her.

Sokka lifted his head and cocked an eyebrow from where he lay already floppily sprawled across a couple of green floor cushions. "Why? It's so early."

"I'm tired," Katara stated simply. With yet another yawn she turned around and hunched towards the stairs. She waved a hand over her shoulder. "Night, everyone."

A heavy silence fell over everyone as she left the room. Only the buzz of the stillness could be heard, until Sokka broke the lengthy pause.

"What's with her?" he asked with a deep, fatigued yawn. "How could she sleep? The sun's not even dow—" though as he spoke, his voice was suddenly cut off by a deep rumble of snoring that had suddenly erupted from his chest. His head fell limply back against the pillow, his mouth gaping open in what was already a deep slumber.

With the night dawning on them and Katara already upstairs, Aang saw a perfect chance to put his plan into action. With the timing so impeccable, he figured the spirits were secretly aiding him in his efforts; encouraging him with this ideal opportunity.

This was it – he didn't have to worry himself anymore; he was about to get some answers.

A burst of adrenaline suddenly flashed through his veins in a wave of hotness, surging his heart forward into a jumpy, irregular rhythm. It hammered frantically against his chest, like a Platypus Bear raging against cage bars. In its pounding viciousness, harsh vibrations bounced through his frame, until he thought he could physically feel his feet bouncing off the floor. With his muscles strong with the adrenaline that pumped through his skin—though weak with the weight of his mind—Aang managed to lift a heavy foot from the ground. He took a deep breath, swallowing his nerves and edged closer to the stairway and Katara above. Though unexpectedly, as he took another courageous step forward, something bumped against his chest, forcefully blocking his path.

"Where do you think you're going, baldy?" Toph asked sceptically from where she all of a sudden stood directly in front of him, palm pressed assertively against his upper frame. Though she pressed the question, Toph already knew what Aang was generally up to. In her rootedness, she simply wanted to hear him admit to his plans and confirm her suspicions allowed.

At this abrupt interruption, Aang's breath caught short in his throat.

"Er – to bed," he coughed, his eyes wide with jolt.

"You don't think I can feel your heartbeat?" She asked rhetorically, pushing him back a step with the extension of her fingers. "Where are you really going?"

"To bed," he repeated falsely. He began to feel slightly uncomfortable with her inquiring and the way she cornered him with questions.

"I know you're lying." Toph said, feeling his untruthful vibrations.

Aang gulped inaudibly. "I'm just going up the stairs." He hedged cautiously, now avoiding the complete truth, careful not the let any total dishonestly slip last his lips.

"Why?"

"To... go to my room."

"You don't feel very tired. Are you?"

"N-no," he forced honestly.

"Then why are you going to your room?" Toph pressed stubbornly, urging the truth past his teeth in her stubbornness. She stood silently, awaiting Aang's answer. All the unsteady vibrations that emitted from his trembling body shook up her legs with such energy she wondered if her own body would start shaking in their force. Toph knew that squeezing the truth from Katara wasn't in Aang's best interest. She knew that Katara needed time to gain a level confidence and readiness before speaking to Aang, and that questioning her would only bring her into a state of uncontrollable panic. Katara couldn't be forced into the revealing her pregnancy – it was something that had to be done when she was ready, and when the time was right. Toph had succeeded in assisting Katara develop an eased and calmed mentality over the pressures her childbearing brought her – she wasn't about to let Aang ruining that.

The clouded airbender stared desperately into Toph's shadowed, white eyes. Conflicted, he no longer knew what to say. Should he continue to hedge around the truth, or just come clean? He did not want Toph preventing him from carrying out his well thought-out and premeditated plans, so admitting the truth and revealing his plot to confront his wife didn't appear best, as he knew Toph was aware of Katara issue. Although, lying wasn't really an option, as he knew Toph would be able to feel any lie he attempted. He didn't know what to do – either way Aang found himself staring at a brick wall.

With a sigh, he bowed his blue arrow in defeat, accepting Toph's win.

"Fine," He said tonelessly. "You're right – I wasn't going to bed."

"Why were you really going to your room?" She repeated, urging the complete truth from him. "What's on your mind?"

"If you honestly didn't know, you wouldn't have stopped me from going upstairs." Aang countered swiftly.

Toph blinked, thrown on her heels.

"Fine," she said, taking use in the straightforwardness and candour that Aang had suddenly given their conversation. "You're right – I pretty much know what you're thinking, and I just thought I'd tell you that it's a really bad idea. I wouldn't go talking to her about it, Aang."

"How did you know?" He asked, amazing that she had guessed his very plan.

"We're earthbenders," Toph said, crossing her arms. "We're direct, and face things head on—and I'm not an idiot; I know you overheard part of our conversation this morning, and I can feel your heartbeat – I'm smart enough to put two and two together. It's no wonder you're as stressed as you are; you know what they say about eavesdroppers."

"So, what's going on then? What can't I just go talk to her about it? How about a little communication around here!"He said, his voice rising over the loudness of Sokka's groggy snoring in his temper.

"M'afraid I can't tell you that," Toph stated with a level of arrogance in her coolness.

Aang's eyebrows curved in annoyance and heated anger. "Why not? Just tell me what's going on, Toph!"

"I can't say," Toph replied firmly, putting her hands solidly on her hips in his elevating rage.

Aang lifted his hand and pointed an accusing finger at Toph's face. "You're keeping a secret Toph! Just tell me – it's not that hard! What's wrong with Katara?"

Toph stood in a level of hesitation.

"There's nothing wrong," she evaded, deciding to allow Aang a little sense of reassurance with what information was safe to reveal.

Aang paused.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice lowering back down in volume. "I heard Katara saying that she wasn't ready to telling me something... there's can't be 'nothing' wrong."

"Seriously, Aang, just never mind," Toph huffed. "Everything's fine – you'll find out soon enough."

At yet another evading response, Aang began to soak in a helpless gloom. Within himself, he could no longer grasp anymore strength to fuel his rage. He felt bare – bare of anything except a certain sadness that now spread throughout his body. By hearing that there was nothing wrong and everything was fine he now held merely pieces of the whole picture, which, in his desperation for answers, only made him ache more painfully for the complete image. The sparkle in his ashen eyes quivered mournfully under his black lashes. As he opened his mouth to speak, he felt a painful burn in the flesh of his throttle. Thick tears of pain and sadness brew rapidly behind his dense grey eyes, daring to spill over his warm cheeks as they edged along the rims of his eyes.

Although he knew Toph couldn't see him, Aang looked desperately into her eyes. He opened his mouth, feeling the ache in his throat amplify, and tremblingly spoke. "Toph, you can't possibly understand what I'm going through right now. I love Katara with every life that I've had. She means more to me than anyone will ever know. I feel so weak, and helpless. This isn't right. I can't breathe anymore because I know there's something wrong with her and everyone seems to be keeping it from me. I can't live under the stress this is putting me through. Please, I just really need to know what's going on..."

A thick fat tear rolled slowly down the side of his face, glistening in the light cast down from the ceiling candles.

The blind woman stood quietly for a moment, bewildered and lost for words.

Taking over his previous anger, she could feel a new emotional vibration course through Aang's quivering body. It held a level of mellowness to it, though carried a decipherable depth. It slowly seeped through Aang's veins, spreading weightily through his body. It seemed to weigh down his heart, bringing a spiritual heaviness to him and his soul. Toph recognized his new vibrations as a great sadness, and although she couldn't see the tears that fell down Aang's cheeks, she guessed as much from the intensity of his changed emotions.

Toph's brow lifted in profound sympathy for Aang, now realizing that she never fully understood the profoundness of the situation. Physically feeling his pain, she could see a measure of the heartache he experienced. On a level of reality, she came to realize that Aang had no honest guess as to what was going on – for all he knew Katara was falling out of their love and moving on in her life.

She cringed at what that consideration would have brought to Aang's conscious.

In the nine years that Toph had known him and all the moments they shared together, she had grown to love Aang very much. First as a teacher, but soon later as a great friend, Toph and Aang held a deep connection of their own. The two were like siblings – sharing a similar love to that of a brother and sister. Witnessing Aang in such a horrible amount of anguish pierced Toph to the depths of her essence. In his pain, she held a deep sorrow for Aang. She felt sensitively weaker, as if her rock-hard soul had suddenly melted into mud.

She stood quietly, taking in Aang's coursing tension. Every beat of him heart, and every distressed vibration that radiated from his flesh, hammered forcefully against Toph again and again, drilling the bottomless anxiety he endured farther into her conscience.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump...

Anguish, anxiety, pain...

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump...

Concern, distress, fear...

Against the distraction of Sokka's endless, nasally snoring, Toph was pulled further and further down into Aang's emotions. She was drowned deeper in the utter sympathy and understanding she felt for her brother. Even though she hated to show it, it tore her rooted-self apart. She couldn't stand the pain and struggle Aang bought to himself. She had to help him – she had to tell him...

But was it right? Was it right to tell Aang?

In her love, all she wanted to do was cease Aang's crazed emotions and bring him back to a level of easiness, where there was nothing to worry about and he no longer lay crushed under the strength of his static thoughts. With just two simple words, Toph held the power to do just that, although, was it in her place to do so? It was Katara's destiny, and her responsibility to reveal the news. Toph could see the disclosure of Katara pregnancy to be a very special moment, though it was something that needed to be shared between Katara and Aang when the time was right. Katara was intended to bestow him with the incredible and miraculous sensation of fatherhood that would sweep him away into weightlessness. It would be wrong of Toph, and not in her place, to spoil that magical moment for Aang – but if that magical moment wasn't shared soon, Aang stood sure to lose what level of rationality he still withheld, and even as a blind woman, Toph could see that.

"Aang," she whispered, utterly conflicted. "I..."

Toph's lip began to tremble. Around her dank, gloomed eyes, her facial muscles were tense and coiled her anxiety. Standing frozen in uncertainly and extreme contemplation, she opened her mouth again. Playing around her tight lips where the words to lift Aang from his anxious mind.

"Er—" Toph stuttered unfathomably yet again, torn between what she knew to do, and what she wanted to do – between what was right, and what was wrong. With the room now coated in silence, she clenched her fists together. Aang's heartbeat drilled violently against her feet, reminding her time after time.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump...

Pain, fear, worry...

The pause extended over them, where nothing but Aang and Toph's heavy breathing could be heard in the deadly silence around them, painting the still room in their tension and strain. Finally, Toph lowered her head with her eyes closed in a level of collected seriousness and final decision.

"No," she stated morally, determination layering her solid voice. "This was never meant to happen; you were never meant to overhear anything. I'm sorry Aang – I'm sorry you overheard our conversation, and how much pain it's putting on you. I never anticipated how badly it would affect you... although I can now understand how it would. But, trust me when I tell you not to worry; everything's fine, better than fine – you'll be laughing at yourself for getting this worked up... so relax. She'll talk to you, just wait for it."

At that, Toph turned her shoulder without a second thought and walked up the stairs, leaving Aang alone to absorb her last words in the deafening silence of the night.

I have absolutely no rights to Avatar; The Last Airbender, but I do, however, own this story.

© Sophie LeBlanc

© Sophie LeBlanc 2010