Chapter Text
This baby was different.
Katara was brushing Bumi’s teeth when the thought hit her, watching in the mirror as he struggled against her. He scrunched his face into expressions he knew, from experience, his father could not help laughing at, but that only made his mother smile. “Please, Bumi,” she said in a gently exasperated tone.
So often when she saw her six-year-old son, when he looked back at her with those big, blue eyes full of both adoration and mischief, Katara’s heart swelled, almost as if it were giving a little sob in her chest. She had lost sleep on countless nights for him, fed him from her own body, healed every cut and bruise, and never failed to reach for him when he called. Bumi had made what she thought was already a perfect life so much better, but he did not make it any easier. Almost every day Bumi managed to dart away from his parents, chasing after lemurs on the grounds of the temple, climbing up fruit trees he knew Katara had asked him not to visit without his father, surprising Acolytes and visiting officials alike with random, half-clothed appearances. At bedtime, he could be found bounding up the stairs of the temple on all-fours, crowing like a hog-monkey, and, since getting his own room, was often caught “practicing flying,” diving into pillows tossed on the floor, a blanket tied around his neck in a makeshift cape.
“He might not be an Airbender,” Aang would laugh to Katara after he finally put Bumi to bed again, “but he’s definitely got the spirit.”
Bumi had inherited a boundless energy from Aang that had exhausted Katara since before he was born. And it was this difference between Bumi and the new baby in her belly that struck Katara so suddenly and so completely that she gasped aloud while trying to brush Bumi’s teeth.
Bumi stopped his struggle, and his eyes widened in the mirror. “What’s wrong, Mom?” he asked around his toothbrush.
Katara breathed in quickly and smiled reassuringly at him. “Nothing’s wrong,” she promised, pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth. “I’m just thinking.” She wiped the foam off of his face and let her fingertips stay a moment on his cheek.
“About what?”
He looked so much like Aang when he was worried.
“How lucky I am to be your mom,” Katara said sincerely. She handed Bumi his little green cup filled with water.
“Mo-om!” Bumi giggled.
Katara smiled back at him. “Rinse, please,” she prompted, and Bumi, for once, did as she asked. He leaned over the counter to spit into the sink, and then handed Katara back his cup before hopping off of his stool and placing it once again in the corner of the bathroom.
“Is Dad making bao for breakfast? He said he’d make me bao for breakfast.”
Katara looked up from where she was tidying the sink. “I don’t know,” she said, “but he did say something about using up the rice we brought back from Gaoling—”
“No!” Bumi bolted from the bathroom, a blur of thick, spiky hair and orange pajamas. “Dad!”
Katara laughed out loud, now alone in the bathroom. But not completely alone. She retied the knot of her robe above the slight swell of her belly and made her way out to the hallway. By this time in her pregnancy with Bumi, it had looked like she was smuggling a small melon in her shirt. Within a few weeks, she had had to give up the heavy, snug clothes of the Southern Water Tribe and taken to wearing old robes of Aang’s. She’d pulled them on in frustration one morning before joining him and the Acolytes for lunch and had felt his eyes on her throughout the whole meal. She worried at first about how she should have asked, how they might have been sacred or had some rules attached to them, and that she would have to change back into her own tightly bound tunic. But after being picked up and rushed to their bedroom to spend a fair amount of that afternoon in bed, Katara learned just how much Aang appreciated seeing her in his clothing, and the robes became a mainstay for the rest of her pregnancy. They were so much more comfortable, free-flowing and cool, which was a big help especially in the last weeks few weeks before Bumi was born, when the summer heat bared down on the Southern Air Temple and Katara felt like she was carrying a small furnace in her stomach. She had enjoyed the small relief, and the way Aang told her how beautiful she looked in his colors of orange and yellow, and would only laugh and kiss her when she insisted she felt too sweaty and swollen to be beautiful. Still, Katara was glad that, with this baby, she would be wearing her own clothes for a while yet.
In the hallway, Katara relished the quiet of the early morning. Cool mountain air filtered through the open windows, carrying the sounds of birdsong and sky bison grunting for their breakfasts in the stables. The Acolytes would not have their morning meal for another hour, but Bumi, an early riser like Aang, could not wait so long to eat after waking up, so during their stays at the temple, Katara and Aang took to having their breakfast separately with their son. The hours she spent with her little family at the beginning of each day were still somewhat novel for Katara. She never got up as early as Aang did, not since they were kids, but as soon as Bumi had planted himself firmly, and unexpectedly, in her womb, she had slept every day through not only Aang’s morning meditation, but also tea and breakfast, and even, though only a couple of times on visits to the Water Tribe, lessons with her Waterbending students. At first, she was simply too tired to get up, but in the later months, Bumi moved so much in her belly, jostling up her insides, giving swift, sure kicks toward the outside world, that no matter where or how she lied down, she could almost never get a full night’s rest. The exhaustion felt so permanent that it was a relief when Bumi was finally born, and it became one of the many reasons she and Aang agreed to wait a long while before having another baby.
Now this baby moved with her. The quality of the movement was distinct, too, more of a flow through the fluid of her womb. It added to Katara’s energy rather than detracting from it. During lessons with her students, she could feel the way her baby shifted with her, curling into or away from her as she moved her weight through her stances. At night, Katara settled easily into bed, most often opting to lie on her side, facing Aang, so he could reach between them and place his hand above their child, on her abdomen. Where Bumi had once kicked at Aang, this baby almost probed, pushing slowly against his hand and then pulling back.
Aang looked up the first time it happened, startled, with wide eyes. “Is that okay? Are you sure—”
“Yes,” Katara said, taking his hand and placing it gently, once more, on her belly. She found the push and pull reassuring, knowing when she adjusted, the baby adjusted, too, when she settled into bed, the baby settled, too, and when she sat up on nights where the moon shone bright and full in the sky, the baby hung high and ready inside her.
Katara’s right hand reached out to caress Aang’s cheek. He looked up from her stomach to her eyes. She smiled reassuringly and smoothed his furrowed brow with her thumb. “The baby’s strong,” she said. “It’s just different.”
Walking through the halls of the temple, Katara had a theory about what might be the difference between her two pregnancies. She smiled as she mulled it over, her fingertips landing briefly on her abdomen again. She wished, not for the first time, that she could ask her mother about what it was like when she had her babies, what it was like when she had Katara. She wondered whether it felt the same as her baby now, like a promise pooling at the bottom of her belly.
The question now was whether to tell Aang, Katara realized once she reached the kitchen. From her position in the doorway, she could stare at him as he stood at the stove, dressed only in his trousers, holding Bumi up so he could peer into the pot while keeping an arm around Aang’s neck. Bumi scrunched his nose before turning away from the pot to look at his father.
“I still don’t think I’ll like it,” Bumi said.
“Aw, come on, buddy.” Aang gave Bumi a little squeeze. “I swear, it’s Uncle Sokka’s favorite. And it’s really good for Mom and the baby. We want them to be strong and healthy, don’t we?”
“But it doesn’t have any meat,” Bumi said. His eyes narrowed at Aang. “Is it really Uncle Sokka’s favorite?”
Aang spotted Katara leaning in the doorway and grinned at her conspiratorially. “It is,” he said. “Jook is the stuff warriors like Sokka are made of!”
“I’d rather have a fruit pie.”
Aang heard Katara stifle a laugh, but he kept his eyes on his son. “If you really don’t like it, I promise you can have a steamed bun instead. Okay?”
Bumi nodded eagerly. “Okay,” he agreed.
“And could you help me set the table?”
“Yes, Dad,” Bumi agreed again, struggling to get down.
“Thanks, buddy.” Aang set Bumi back down on the floor and watched him race out of the kitchen. Finally, he turned to greet Katara.
“Hey, you look happy,” he said, pulling her toward him for a kiss.
“I am happy,” she replied with a soft smile.
“Well, wait till you see this,” Aang said suddenly. He pulled away from her to leap into the air, reaching for the highest shelf in the kitchen. Katara hadn’t noticed the white box sitting above them. Aang must have hidden it late sometime the night before.
His air scooter dissipated, and Aang landed lightly on his feet in front of her, white box in hand. The insignia of the Southern Water Tribe had been stamped on the box’s lid. “A delivery for Master Katara,” he said. He wore the same wide, expectant grin he’d had since they met.
Katara’s amused expression was replaced with surprise as soon as she opened the box. She gasped. Inside was a pile of bright orange berries, plump and ripe and in perfect condition. “Fox cherries!” she exclaimed. She looked up at Aang. “But how? It’s so early for them.”
Aang looked delighted, clearly pleased with Katara’s reaction. “They’re the first of the season,” he explained. “Let’s just say I put in an early order with a contact of mine at the Southern Water Tribe.”
Katara raised an eyebrow. “So you asked Sokka when we were in Ba Sing Se?”
“I might have mentioned them during a break from the Council.” Aang checked on the fire under the stove and stoked it quickly with his bending. “It was all very secret. I had to hide them from that sneaky son of yours.”
“Of mine?” Katara laughed. “If he got being sneaky from anyone, it’s you.”
“Ah, of course, you’re right, Katara. Or should I say,” Aang paused and glanced the room before leaning toward Katara with a grin, “Painted Lady.”
Katara’s mouth dropped open in mock-offense. “That wasn’t being sneaky! That was helping people.”
“Don’t worry, Katara, you know I think you’re a hero for it.” Aang took the box of fox cherries from her. “But you’ve gotta admit, it was pretty sneaky of you.”
Katara crossed her arms and shook her head at him, trying to hold back a grin. “I guess we just have to hope this one comes out honest and not-sneaky, like you,” she said.
Aang stopped stirring the jook to look up at her and smile at the bump of her belly. “Hopefully,” he said brightly, and turned back to the stove.
Katara felt the baby shift within her then. First came the slow push out, and then the corresponding pull back in. She opened her mouth to tell Aang when Bumi came barreling back into the kitchen.
“Dad? I can’t reach the—Mom! Mom, look, Dad made jook,” Bumi said, trying desperately to hide his dismay.
“I saw,” Katara said, pushing back his unruly hair once he came near her. “Dad’s adding fox cherries to it, though, fresh from the South Pole! You like fox cherries, don’t you?”
Bumi visibly brightened and nodded his agreement. He took Katara’s hand in his. “Dad says jook is good for warriors.”
Katara glanced at Aang, who nodded at her eagerly. “It’s true,” she said, smiling and turning back to Bumi. “Your Uncle Sokka started eating it after we traveled the Earth Kingdom, and he grew a whole foot taller. All the best warriors are raised on it.”
“Just in the Earth Kingdom?”
“And in the Fire Nation.”
“Like Zuko?”
Katara once again looked to Aang. He shrugged.
“I actually don’t know what Zuko ate when he was little,” Katara said, squeezing Bumi’s hand, “but I’m sure he would tell you if you asked.”
“What about the Kyoshi Warriors?” Bumi asked eagerly.
“They almost definitely ate their jook,” Katara replied.
Bumi nodded and watched Aang thoughtfully for a moment, still holding Katara’s hand.
“Mom?”
“Yes, Bumi?”
“Dad says jook’s good for you and the baby, too.”
Katara nodded. “He’s right.”
“That it makes the baby strong and healthy.”
“Right again.”
Bumi considered Katara, and then the pot Aang was still stirring with his waterbending. “How?” he asked.
Katara tugged his hand and brought him to stand next to Aang with her. “You watched Dad make this, right?”
Bumi now nodded. “Yeah.”
“Then you saw the ingredients,” Katara continued. “There are only a few of them, and they’re all very simple, but when they come together, they become something with the power to give us strong bones and muscles. And that makes for a healthy baby.” Bumi grinned when she added, “And a strong warrior.”
Aang put out the fire of the stove with a small gust of air. “Do you remember when we were talking about the importance of breathing?” he asked Bumi, handing Katara a bowl of freshly ladled jook.
“Like in firebending,” Bumi said.
“Well, that’s one example, but I mean when you came with me to meditation, and we talked about controlling the breath?”
“Kind of.”
“It’s the same kind of thing. Your breath is power. When you breathe in, it seems like it’s just air, but when you breathe out, the air comes out as your energy.”
Bumi considered this and began to twirl on his feet, still holding Katara’s hand, having stood in place for so long. “And jook is power for the baby?” he finally asked.
“In a way, yes.”
Bumi nodded. Suddenly, he looked up, addressing both of his parents. “Is the baby going to be a bender?”
Aang and Katara immediately looked to each other, the same startled expression reading on both of their faces. Katara briefly opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, or ask Bumi where his question had come from, Aang sat on the floor in front of their son. He crossed his legs and took a deep breath.
“We don’t know, Bumi,” Aang said gently. “We don’t know how this stuff works. There’s a chance the baby could be an Airbender, like me, a non-bender, like you, or even a Waterbender, like your mom.”
Katara knelt down next to Aang when she heard this and put her bowl aside. There was the slow push and pull from the baby again as she looked into Bumi’s wide, blue eyes.
Bumi shifted restlessly from one foot to the other as he processed his father’s words. “Do you want the baby to be a bender?” he now asked.
Katara couldn’t help herself. She pulled Bumi into her and held him tightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “All we want,” she said slowly, pulling back slightly to see the confused expression on his face, “is for the baby to be like you. Happy and healthy and good .” She smiled when she saw he was only more confused. “You have such a good heart, Bumi. Whether or not the baby is a bender, what matters is that they have a good heart, just like you.”
Aang’s eyes were soft as he reached out to embrace Bumi, too. “And whether or not the baby is a bender,” he added, “they’ll be our family. And we’ll love them just as much as we love you.” He tickled Bumi’s belly and grinned when the little boy laughed. “So much.”
Bumi’s expression was now bright, his wide grin showing off the missing tooth he had lost the day before. “And I’ll love her, too,” he said to his parents, almost as though he were making an agreement with them.
Aang paused. “‘Her?’” he asked, suppressing a laugh.
“I told Mom,” Bumi explained, now wriggling free from his parents’ reach, “I only want a baby sister. No brothers.”
Aang turned to Katara, and she nodded once in confirmation.
“Bumi—”
“Can we eat now? I’m starving!” Bumi took the bowl Katara had placed on the floor and once again bolted out of the kitchen.
He sounded so much like Sokka, both Aang and Katara burst out laughing. They were still laughing as Aang helped Katara to her feet, and they began gathering the rest of their breakfast.
“We’re definitely going to have to talk about that, aren’t we?” Aang asked.
“Of course,” Katara replied. She laughed when she heard Aang’s sigh, coming up behind him and circling her arms around his waist. “But we can leave it for later. You have a Fire Lord’s visit to plan, and I’ve got a class to teach today.” She heard Aang murmur in agreement.
“You know, you’re really wonderful with him,” she said quietly.
Aang turned to face her. “Bumi?”
Katara looked up at him with her wide, blue eyes and nodded.
Aang looked down at her with the goofy, completely unselfconscious grin of his. It only got more disarming with time, leaving Katara blushing even now. “It helps that I have you to learn from,” he said.
Katara shook her head. “No, I mean it. Everything you just said came from you.” She rose on her tiptoes to kiss him once, on the cheek. “You’re a really good dad, Aang.”
Aang gathered her up in his arms and held her tightly in response. It was just the two of them alone in the kitchen.
But not completely alone.
Katara wanted to ask him if meant what they had said to Bumi, about the baby being a bender. Really, she wanted to ask if he wanted the baby to be an Airbender. Whether he’d be disappointed if the baby were a Waterbender.
Looking up at him, though, she knew there was no reason to ask. They had talked about it so many times before, and she had heard the sincerity in his voice and the way he looked into Bumi’s eyes, his gray meeting the blue Bumi had inherited from Katara.
The impulse to ask disappeared quicker than it had appeared, along with her impulse to voice her suspicion, her theory about the new baby. They would see. There were months, years, even, to know for sure. That was plenty of time to let go of any expectations, and there were plenty of more important things to worry about in the meantime.
“Dad!” Bumi called from the dining hall. “I tried it!”
Aang pulled back from Katara, keeping his arms around her as he called back, “And?”
“I want my steamed bun, please!”
Aang laughed and let go of Katara. “I tried,” he said ruefully. “Now if I want you to keep calling me a good dad, I’d better feed our firstborn.”
“That might be a good idea,” Katara said.
Aang glanced at her from where he was searching for the steamed buns. “You go ahead, Katara, I’ll be there in a second.”
“All right,” she agreed. She gathered two more bowls of the jook and the box of fox cherries, glancing down at them just as she was about to enter the dining hall. She turned back around. “Aang?”
“Yes, Katara?” She couldn’t see him behind the table in the middle of the kitchen.
“I love you.”
An arrow and two gray eyes popped out from behind the table, softening into the adoring look he only ever gave her. “And I love you.”
“Dad!”
Aang’s eyes widened in alarm. “Just a second, buddy!” He ducked down to resume his search.
Katara finally left the kitchen, bringing the fox cherries to her son, her stomach bouncing with her laughter, and the baby in her belly swimming along the current of new emotion.