Chapter Text
The forest presses close, damp and heavy with twilight. We’ve been walking since returning from the village, circling through the same ridges, the same empty gullies. No trace of Teorin. No trace of Zuko. No Cat. Just dirt, sweat, and silence.
Rain against my skin. A caress on my cheek. No. Not real. Just memories.
My skin buzzes with them. Memories upon memories all piling on. My chest feels tight as it something slams into my side, but there is no real impact. Just the sensation. Not real.
The burn flares again, hot and wild. I hold back my hiss. The world blurs at the edges, colors too sharp, sounds too loud. Every memory I’ve ever burned into my muscles hums at once, jumbled and wrong.
And all the ways to fix it are gone. Missing. I didn’t find them fast enough.
I fall behind. No one notices at first. Sokka’s arguing with Toph, Katara’s snapping back, Aang’s scanning the treeline.
And then I stop.
I press my palms to my face, but it doesn’t hold back the shaking. It’s too much. The fire. The pain. No Teorin or Cat to help hold back the flood of memories. Every time I blink, I feel a dozen other moments of hurt, all clawing at me, screaming for attention inside my head.
I hear a sound. Too raw. Too broken. It takes me a second to realize it’s me.
The sobs tear out before I can stop them. Another memory hits, and I stumble. Fall.
“Lev?” Katara’s voice, sharp with alarm. She’s suddenly there, crouched in front of me. I can’t even look at her. Her hand brushes my shoulder.
And everything stops.
The jagged edges collapse, the memories cut out, and I’m falling—not into panic this time, but into stillness. Reality crashes in so fast it feels like being snapped into place. Relief crashes through me, dizzying, overwhelming.
I shut my eyes as my body recalibrates, just letting myself feel the dirt beneath me. The arms. No rain, no water that’s not there.
Just me. Here.
Toph gasps. “His heartbeat. It just went from wild to level… in ten seconds.”
“What does that mean?” Sokka demands, voice cracking. “Was he—was he about to die?”
“No,” Toph says slowly, frowning hard. “Not die. Just… it’s like she flipped a switch.”
Katara pulls me against her, steadying me. I sag into the contact, all strength gone. My body knows before my mind does: it’s safe. Finally safe.
A sigh rattles out of me, half a sob, half a laugh, and then the weight slams down. Two nights without real rest crash down like an avalanche. I’m asleep before I can fight it, before I can explain, before I can even breathe out Teorin’s name.
Katara looks down at me, wide-eyed. “What in the world is happening to him?”
Silence answers her, heavy as the night.
Katara eases me down, trying to figure out what’s wrong. Aang brings her a wet cloth that she rests on my forehead. “I don’t think he’s sick,” Katara finally says. “His temperature settled again. It’s not a fever, just a weird spike.”
“Then what is it?” Toph asks.
“I’m… not sure,” Katara admits. She pulls the hand that had been resting on my arm back.
I shudder immediately, my body seizing like I’m about to bolt even in sleep. My breath catches sharp in my throat.
“Wait,” Toph blurts. “His heart—there it goes again. Spiking all over the place.”
Katara freezes, then lays her hand back on my shoulder. Seconds later, I melt. My breathing evens, my muscles slacken, the tension drains away.
“…that’s not normal,” Sokka whispers. “That’s—what even is that?”
Katara hesitates, pulls her hand back again. Same result—panic, shaking.
Aang leans forward, uncertain. “Maybe—maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s just… touch.”
He places a tentative hand against my arm.
The reaction is immediate. My body steadies, breath smoothing out, heartbeat settling like a stone in water.
They all look at each other.
“So, if any of us is touching him…” Katara says.
“He’s fine,” Aang finishes. “And the moment we let go…” Aang pulls his hand back.
My breathing spikes.
Toph exhales. “His heart just went wild again.”
Sokka frowns, unsettled. “That’s still creepy. Really creepy.”
“It’s not creepy,” Katara snaps, sharper this time. “It’s survival. Whatever this is, he needs it.”
Silence hangs heavy. “So, does that mean we are done searching for the day?” Toph asks.
“It was almost time to camp, anyway,” Aang says.
Everyone moves except Aang as they get camp ready. Sokka starts a fire, but all through the motion people are glancing back at me and Aang, whose hand is clutching my arm like he’s scared I might break. (Which, fair.)
“So… what are we supposed to do with him?” Aang says softly.
Toph tilts her head toward him. “Someone’s gotta stick to him until sunrise.”
Katara nods grimly. “We’ll take shifts, whoever is on watch duty. One of us stays close, keep contact. Just enough to keep him stable.”
Sokka makes a face. “So… like babysitting?”
Toph smirks. “More like anchoring. He floats off if no one holds him down.”
“I’ll start,” Katara says firmly. Her hand replaces Aang’s, steady on my sleeve. “You three get some rest. I’ll wake you if he slips again.”
Aang hesitates, reluctant to pull away, but finally nods. “We’ll make it work. He’s one of us now. At least until Teorin’s back.”
The fire settles into embers.
Katara stays first. Her hand doesn’t leave my sleeve, even when her head dips with exhaustion. Every time she pulls away, my breathing falters, so she shifts closer, resting an arm on me. It’s steady work, but steady is what I need.
After a while, she nudges Aang awake. “Your turn.”
Aang slides in quietly, placing his hand against my arm. The reaction is immediate. I steady, muscles unclenching, face slackening into something close to peace. Aang’s eyes widen, soft with guilt. He whispers, “I don’t think he’s faking. Not even a little.”
Katara just shakes her head. “I know.” She lies back down, finally allowing herself to rest.
Hours later, Toph takes over. She doesn’t bother with gentleness, just plops down beside me and rests her hand on my shoulder. She snorts when my heartbeat instantly evens out under her senses. “Figures. Drama king can’t even sleep without an audience.” Still, she doesn’t move. After a moment, quieter: “Doesn’t matter. He’s calm. That’s enough.”
Sokka’s last. He grumbles the whole time, muttering about how this is weird and creepy and “definitely not in the boomerang warrior handbook.” But when his touch keeps me from twitching awake, he grows quieter. Staring into the fire, he mutters, almost to himself, “Guess he really does need us. And if Teorin doesn’t come back…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Yeah. We’re screwed.”
By dawn, they all know the truth. I don’t stir once, not while someone is near. And every one of them, in their own way, accepts the unspoken deal: until Teorin is back, they’ll keep me anchored.