Well, number 2 was quick. I guess I'll have a few ideas now that I'm just starting out, but a few of them are getting quite tough to put into words. Nice short one-shot here, thanks for any reads/reviews (don't get ahead of yourself). Not a very original idea, I know, but I wanted to do a take on it.

"So… the Avatar State, huh?" she drawled casually.

"Uh…" he began, clearly caught off guard. "Yeah, the Avatar State," he paused to clear his throat, "what about it?"

"That's a pretty great power, right?"

"Yeah, I guess it is…" he offered, still wondering what could have brought on her latest round of questioning.

"Must be pretty difficult to control." Her gaze was cold and stony.

"Well, not really," he told her, truthfully, "I mean, not anymore," he tacked on weakly.

That seemed to sate her curiosity for the moment, and they lapsed into an uneasy silence. She stared hard at the horizon, and he marvelled at how, after almost 3 years together, she could still be as much of an enigma as she had been when they first met. She was wonderful and confusing, but he didn't mind. He afforded himself a low sigh, but remained wary of further interrogation and began formulating stock answers in his head. He had seen her like this before, and was sure that more was going on than met the eye.

He could understand why she might bring it up. He had used it just a few hours ago to extinguish an enormous inferno, caused by the latest group of rebels and dissenters. He had transported almost the entirety of a nearby lake to the village and had, with a minimum of effort, fought the fire until it was merely smouldering embers. He had then proceeded to put the water back, and it was as if nothing untoward had occurred at all. All in a day's work.

"How was it that you learned to control it again, exactly?" she prodded, after letting the silence linger, "I mean, you couldn't do it for a long time, could you?"

"Haven't I already told you this story?"

"Yeah…" she conceded, "but I'm a little fuzzy on some of the details."

"Well, I travelled to the Eastern Air Temple and, with the help of a spiritual guru, I opened my chakras." He was becoming curious as to why she was suddenly so intrigued by the Avatar State. She had never been bothered by it before, it was just a part of him, and she had accepted it.

"Oh…" she said, clearly not satisfied, "and how was it that you managed that, again?"

"I don't understand why you're asking me all these-"

"Just remind me," she instructed him, tersely. He could have sworn that he could hear the tiniest hint of irritation in her voice as she spoke, but decided to indulge her.

"Well, to open my chakras I had to let go of fear, guilt, shame, grief, lies, illusions, and earthly attachments." He listed off the points on his fingers as he spoke.

"Earthly attachments…" she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as she once again turned to stare at the horizon, presenting him with her profile.

At that point, the silence returned in full force. He couldn't remember the last time they had been so awkward around each other, but he could see her bottom lip shaking ever so slightly, even though the rest of her face betrayed little. He decided that something was definitely up, and resolutely decided to confront her about it.

"Hey," he called softly, "is something up?"

She continued to stare straight ahead, but afforded him an answer.

"No, nothing's up."

He arched a sceptical eyebrow, "Are you sure?"

She turned to look at him then, "Yes, I'm sure."

He could see that tell-tale shimmering in her eyes when she looked at him, and it spurred him on.

"You know if anything's the matter you can tell me about it, right?"

"I know." She looked to be turning away from him once more, but she evidently thought better of it and turned back to him.

"Did…" she started, her voice achingly quiet and wobbly, "did you let me go?"

He was absolutely dumbfounded at her question. None of his stock answers were for that. He simply gazed at her open-mouthed for what felt like minutes. When he finally composed himself, he swallowed before speaking.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" he gaped. His words were less than carefully picked, but he was hardly anticipating her question.

"Well, you always told me that I was your earthly attachment," she told him, before adding in a voice barely above a whisper, "I loved being your earthly attachment."

He could still only manage a confused, "Oh."

"You told me that you couldn't go into the Avatar State because you couldn't let go of me," she elaborated, "and I know it's selfish, but I really liked that idea. The idea that you couldn't let me go…" she trailed off. He nodded for her to continue.

"Well, now you can go into the Avatar State, so does that mean…" she didn't need to finish her sentence for the weight of what she was asking to hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Does that mean you let me go?" she asked meekly, looking at him through wet lashes.

He composed himself then, and was at her side immediately, wrapping his arms around her. She seemed to stiffen in his arms, before leaning into him.

"Of course not," he whispered reassuringly, "I never let you go and I never will."

"Well what am I supposed to believe? You couldn't go into the Avatar State and now you can, that means you had to let me go," she sobbed, her arms around his torso now.

"Well, you're supposed to believe me…" he chuckled. When he noticed that his attempt at humour had fallen on deaf ears, he became serious once more.

"Listen to me, letting go of you doesn't mean not loving you," he told her sternly, "if that was what letting go was, then I could never, ever have done that." She seemed to stop crying at that fervent declaration, and he drew her back to look at her face.

"Well, what does it mean, then?" she asked, but her eyes were already filling with hope, and he could see that.

"I'm not sure what it means," he admitted, "but I think it's something along the lines of loving you enough to let you go. It means loving you more."

"And what does that mean?" she asked, a teary giggle escaping her lips.

"Well," he began, trying to find a way to put it as delicately as he could, "if we were ever in a position where me being around was hurting you, then I would leave. If you wanted me to leave, I would."

"I don't understand…" she told him, though deep down she knew she did.

"If you ever wanted to leave me, I mean really wanted to leave me, then I wouldn't stop you. I wouldn't be happy about it, but if that was what you wanted, someone else I mean, then I would let you have it. I would let you have anything."

"Oh…" she managed. Inwardly she was chastising herself for ever believing that he might let her go. She knew she meant the world to him. He didn't let her forget.

They lapsed into silence once again, but this time it wasn't awkward at all. It was a happy, contented silence, one they had shared many times before. They were still tangled in each other's arms, but that was exactly where they wanted to be.

"Just so you know, Aang," she whispered, "I don't think I'll ever want to leave."

He laughed at that. "Well, that's good, Katara," he mumbled, smiling into her hair, "because I'm not sure I would be able to let you go."