1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender. I do, however, own the idea behind this particular fanfiction. And a golf cart. I also own that.

**Caution:** Rated T for language, mature content, and confusion.

**A/N:** Ladies and gents, I present to you a work of my mind twined in time with Avatar: the Last Airbender. I do hope you enjoy it. A quick warning, though… this might be a touch confusing for some. This is going to take a long time for me to write, and it is also extremely long in general. I hope you can stick with me on this non-profit journey. This is a preview for what's to come.

Please review when you can.

"_Hope is the dream of a man awake."_

_~French Proverb_

**Prologue: **Origins

Water.

Earth.

Fire.

Air.

Long ago, the world was kept in harmony with the balance of the elements. There were those who could use these elements at will. It was a mastery of great power in the technical skill called Bending. Benders, those who mastered the element of their calling, used their abilities in many different ways. Most to keep the peace- but there were those who sought nothing but more power.

So, to keep the balance in check, the Spirits created an all-powerful being. A being that could master _all_ elements. One who could flow like the Water. One who was as strong as the Earth. One who had passion and Fire within their soul. One who saw beauty in the very Air. One whose life would always renew so that they might tip the scales if ever something went wrong. This one was the Avatar.

As master to all elements, each life was tasked with learning to control them. Sometimes, the Avatar would have to make heartbreaking decisions. Sometimes, the Avatar would just get to _live_. But as time grew on, evolution occurred, technology improved, and the art of Bending began to fade into the distant background.

Soon, even the Avatar's powers faded. They slipped away with lack of use. Lack of need. And the new lives forgot the old. The people of the world fell into an ignorant bliss, forgetting the ways of old. However, there were those tasked with forever remembering. Tasked with watching over the Avatar in every new and coming life. Tasked with waiting for the day that the peace needed restoring. Waiting for the scales to tilt and groan as the dark began to weigh too much. They waited for the day to come. The day that they would need the return of _the Avatar_.

**tbc.**


	2. Beginnings part 1

"_Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." _

_~Seneca_

**Chapter 1: **Beginnings (part 1)

"You're kidding me, right?"

Two sets of matching blue eyes stared down at her unblinkingly. Sam's lips twitched slightly as he tried to keep a straight face. Her own gray gaze narrowed dangerously at the both of them. Her jaw clenched in agitation as they had their silent, three-person argument. Finally, the shorter girl let out a strangled sigh and rolled her eyes; breaking the contest of wills between the three teenagers. Sam muttered a quick 'thank you' and rubbed his burning eyes while his younger sister simply blinked a few times to regain the lost moisture.

"Oh, _god_," she shook her head, burying her face in her hands. "You're not kidding."

"C'mon, Amy," Kyana said, draping a sun-kissed arm around her friend's pale shoulders reassuringly. "It's not that bad."

Amy jerked away, brows shooting up to hair behind her dark bangs. "Not that bad?"

Then it was Sam to the rescue. "Hey, _yeah_, it's not that bad. I mean, you _are_ the fastest one in Coronado. No one can beat you!"

Amy simply slumped in her seat, letting her head fall against the table before them. The sun beat down on her fair skin as her two best friends buzzed and fussed around her. The two siblings hissed whispers at each other, Sam arguing while Kyana tried to talk him down.

"It's _just_ a race," he said, tossing his hands up. "I don't see the big deal."

"But I _told_ you we should've asked first," Kyana replied, face scrunching up in concern as she glanced at her downtrodden friend. "Now look… She's all upset."

"She's not upset!" Sam scoffed, looking Amy's way. "She's just… relaxing. Getting ready for the big race."

Sam was smiling like a goof, as if he's just solved the problem to world hunger. Kyana shook her head, threading her fingers through her long, brown hair. Looking up through a curtain of dark silk, Amy watched the two exchange gestures in a _loud_ silence that only someone close to them would even begin to understand. Luckily, she was part of the few—honestly, the only one—who could get them. Kyana's was obvious—she shoved her brother's shoulder, meaning 'You _idiot_'. Sam's movements, although simple, could have many meanings. One could say an awful lot with a shrug.

Giggling against the plastic coated metal of their lunch table, the brunette couldn't help the warm feeling of being with her two best friends consume her dread and frustration. She let out a long puff of air, shoving brown locks out of her face so that she could see the two better. They both blinked—almost owlishly—at her, and the sudden smile that was playing on her lips. Sitting up with a sigh, she stretched her arms above her head, and made a sound of contentment as her back cracked. They were still staring at her. Waiting.

She swung her legs over the seat and stood with a weightless grace. Confidence and a smile covered up the self-consciousness as she beamed at Kyana and Sam. Almost uncertainly, a slow smile began to uncurl on Kyana's mouth as well. Only Sam was left with a puzzled frown.

"Umm…" he ran his hand over his Mohawk, styled after the much-loved Noah Puckerman of Glee—Sam's favorite primetime show. "What just happened?"

"Lucky you, Sammy boy," Amy said, hands on her hips. "I just decided to walk away from my ever appetizing lunch—" she cast a wrinkled nose look at the steaming pile of goop on her lunch tray, "to be in this little race. And as usual, I'll win."

Sam's face brightened considerably. "Really?"

Amy resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and smirked mischievously, instead. Sam paled. "Yes. Which means that whatever you bet on me, I get seventy-five percent of."

"What?!" He shot up onto his feet from his spot on their table, blue eyes blazing bright. "No _way_! You only ever take twenty!"

"That's because normally it doesn't cut into Feed Amy time."

Kyana took a step back, not wanting to get between them. She had learned long ago to never get between them when they argued. As normally kind and welcoming Amy was, she was actually quite quick with harsh words and definitely had a sadistic streak—at least when it came to Sam. Their Prank Wars were known around the school, and generally ended untimely for Sam. Sometimes, Kyana would even get caught up in the crossfire—which, as it turned out, was _never_ a good thing for _any _of them. Especially that time her hair had been dyed pink.

Kyana took another small step back as the other two teens squared off. A few other students spared them a slow glance as they walked by, rubbernecking and lingering at the sight of Amy and Sam circling each other slowly. Some simply paused, saw, and then moved on having seen it many times before. Mostly freshman stopped to watch.

Suddenly, Amy's stomach grumbled, and she smiled sheepishly. Sam tried not to grin back as he straightened and looked contemplative. His eyebrow quirked up at her, and she shrugged.

"Considering your argument and the grumbly tumbly you have…" Sam cupped his chin, trying to look thoughtful. "I'll give you thirty percent."

"_Thirty_?" She scoffed, crossing her arms and stepping closer to Sam with her gray eyes narrowed. "Sixty."

"No," he shook his head, "forty is as high as I'm going."

"Fifty, and that's my final offer."

"What makes you think you can _make_ a final offer?" Sam countered, other eyebrow shooting up cockily.

"_Oh_, nothing…" She trailed off a moment, looking quite defeated before Kyana caught the smirk hiding as her head hung low. "Just the fact that if I refuse to race, you won't get any money at all."

"You're evil," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. Pursing his lips, his nostrils flared in frustration and his hands clenched at his sides. "Forty-five."

Amy's head shot up from looking at her shuffling feet, and she grinned quite cheekily. "Deal!"

Suddenly, Sam was whooping and jumping in the air, his fists pumping. "Let's go, fight, win!"

"Wouldn't it be go, _race_, win?" Kyana asked, finally stepping back to them as the onlookers decided to move on.

"Doesn't matter _what_ we put in the middle," Sam said offhandedly, pushing Amy along by the small of her back as Kyana followed. "As long as we go. And as long as we win."

Kyana and Amy exchanged knowing glances, laughing softly at Sam's antics. The short brunette let herself be guided through the throngs of people who were hovering around in their little cliques and groups. A few eyed the trio as they passed by, and most of them smiled and waved. Everyone knew them, and they were liked by most. Only some looked upon them grudgingly as they went by smiling.

Eventually, they made it to the back parking lot, and Sam froze, causing skid to a stop as Kyana followed suit. He went stiff, eyes untrusting of people that walked by—until a shaggy, brown mop of hair caught his attention. He whistled, low and long, and Amy had to step away from him. She glanced around, dragging Kyana with her as she tried to look like she didn't know who he was. The shaggy haired one whistled back, a devilishly smooth look coming over him as he placed a toothpick between his lips and waved them over.

Sam whipped around, grabbing their wrists to tug them along. Amy dragged her heels, now extremely suspicious of what was going down. When they got around the corner of the building, there was Jason, the shaggy haired boy, and his crew. Suddenly, the small girl was pulling away and shaking her head rapidly. Sam turned to her imploringly, eyes big and begging.

"Nuh uh! No way. No how." She cast a cold glare at Jason as he chuckled, and Kyana joined her in the glowering. "I am _not_ having a rematch with him. Last time, he almost ran me off of the street—Into a dumpster!"

"Ames, it's not whatcha think," Sam stated.

"_You_ were the one who threatened him after!" She exclaimed, pointing at Sam and giving him a desperate look. "What happened to overly-protective-guy, huh?"

"_Amy_," he said softly, a small smile on his lips. "You're not racing, Jason."

"Oh," she sighed in relief, panic subsiding. "Good." She looked at the tall boy, and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Cause he's, yanno, kinda crazy. No offense, J."

"None taken," Jason shrugged, his piercing brown gaze moving beyond Amy and onto Kyana, who blushed nicely under his scrutiny. "Hey, Kyana."

She tugged on a long strand of dark hair, her tan cheeks stained pink as she refused to make eye contact. "Hey, Jason."

Amy and Sam glanced between the two, and then at each other with matching shrugs. Jason's posse sort of hummed in amusement behind him, but they fell silent when the tall boy shot them a cold glare. Amy took to teasing Kyana by quietly humming the kissing in a tree tune, while Sam nudged her, as his sister blushed more, trying to get her to stop.

Laughing, she finally ceased before she could get to the big 'G' of 'kissing', and held out a hand to Jason. "Keys."

"What?"

"Keys," she repeated, drawing the word out long and slow. When he still gave her that questioning look, she rolled her eyes, "Gimme your keys so I can race."

"Why? Don't you have your own?"

"I do," she nodded, hand still out and waiting as she wiggled her fingers. "But it's not with me. I took the bus today. So, _Jet_, gimme your keys."

With a deep sigh, he dug around in his pocket and plucked out a jingling ring of silver and gold. He reluctantly set it in the palm of her hand, and gestured over to where his baby was parked. Amy grinned, practically skipping over to the nicely polished ride, and slid into the driver's seat. The small group trailed behind, and Sam clapped as she turned her on and let her purr.

"So, who _am_ I racing?" She looked to Jason, stroking the steering wheel lovingly, even if it was only a temporary ride.

"_Me_," Came from next to her, and she looked over to see two crazy pigtails.

Amy let out a low groan, her head falling forward against the wheel. "Marissa? Again?"

"I'm not gonna stop 'til I beat you, Amy!" The sophmore exclaimed, gripping her wheel tight.

Sam scoffed; suddenly out in front of their revving vehicles. "No one can defeat Amy. She's the golf cart racing _champ_!"

Marissa's eyes narrowed, and her white, four-seater cart jerked forward as she hit the gas for a second. Sam jumped, yelping girlishly, and flung himself into his sister's arms. Kyana gave him a wary look and he laughed meekly, pulling away from her.

Trying to hide her amused smile, Amy pulled up beside Marissa and gave Jason a thumb up. He nodded, stepping out in the street, holding both his arms up as a signal to get ready. The world froze for a second, tension settling like electricity in the air, and Jason looked between the two racers.

"Down to Star Park and back," he muttered around the toothpick in his mouth. "Take any road you'd like. Don't get caught."

"Sir, yes, sir!" Amy mock saluted, a fierce look coming over her features. "Oh, and digging the Fonz look, Jet. Very retro."

He suppressed the urge to growl at her childishness, and grinned at her coldly. She held back her giggle at the irritation she'd so professionally caused, and winked playfully. Jason's rigid shoulders fell lax as he saw the teasing glimmer in her steal gaze, and he let out a quick, hot puff of air. He mildly thought of whining about her antics, but figured it would only add fuel to the fire. Instead, he dropped his hands, and the race began.

They took off, engines revving, and going the delightful maximum speed of thirty-five miles an hour. They were parallel going down the street for a long moment before Amy swerved, peeling off down an alleyway. Marissa tensed, pressing harder on the gas, willing it to go faster. She sped through a stop sign, barely glancing down the road as she zipped along.

Amy was nowhere to be seen as she sped along. She kept a keen eye out for the older girl, and for any police cars that could spot her. Wind whipped around her, mussing her already messy hair as she took a sharp corner, seeing the roundabout that was Star Park. She smiled brightly, realizing quickly that she'd gotten there first. Seemingly out of thin air, Amy's cart came skidding out from a side street just in front of her.

Marissa let out a snarl, seeing the amused grin on her competition's face as she glanced over her shoulder. When the brunette faced forward again, she hit the breaks and came to a screeching halt as the cop car circled the park. They both froze there at the thick stop line for a moment, watching the black and white vehicle turn down a different street before taking off all over again. Marissa squealed out first, taking the large circle on the inside edge. She glanced in her mirrors to see Amy close behind, practically drifting around. A pair of brown eyes widened in horror as their bumpers hit lightly, and sent them spinning out. Marissa let out a small scream, gripping the wheel tight and slamming on the brakes.

After they stopped and everything cooled down, they glanced up at each other. Marissa was pointing nose-first down the street they'd just came on, while Amy had her back to it. Running a hand through her short locks, she peeked back before flicking a switch on her cart. As soon as Marissa heard the beeping of the cart, she desperately sought to restart her stalled engine. Amy shrugged and waved as she started to speed backwards, guiding herself with the mirrors. All Marissa could do was let out a frustrated cry.

It wasn't long until Amy came rolling back up to the school. The tiny crowd that had gathered cheered as she came to an easy stop by the curb. Killing the engine, she slid out, both arms raised in triumph. Sam went gallivanting over, grin so wide it nearly split his face in half as he swept the small girl up into his arms. A giggle escaped her as she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, allowing herself to be spun around. Tossing the keys at Jason, he caught them without even looking up, and let a barely visible smile quirk his lips.

A sputtering of an electric engine caught their attention, and they all turned to the street to see Marissa sidling up to Jason's golf cart. Her face was downcast and withdrawn, and the normal toothy grin was gone, replaced by a terribly sad frown as she stopped her cart and stepped out. Sam set Amy down and darted over to the younger girl, preparing to gloat, brag, and severely rub it in. He would've tossed salt in the open wounds if it hadn't been for Amy grabbing him by the collar, using his momentum to surge her forward. Sam gagged and jerked back, propelling the brunette past him to meet up with her challenger. Marissa's _pigtails_ seemed to droop in disappointment as Amy cast a shadow over her in the afternoon light.

"Ya did good, M." She said, clapping a hand down on Marissa's shoulder. "You almost had me."

"Yeah," she let herself smile for a moment before sullenly shuffling her feet. "But winning is _winning_. No matter what, Amy."

Jason rolled his eyes, coming up to the both of them and draping an arm around Marissa's shoulders. "Easy, Tiger. How about we all just go get some grub, yeah?"

"Sounds good to me," Amy shrugged, turning on her heel sharply. "I'm _starving_."

A loud bell chirped overhead, almost deafeningly, and the small group groaned. They had raced through lunch. Literally.

Sam's golden skin paled as a chill ran down his spine. A thing layer of sweat covered his brow as a gurgling stomach rumbled. He gulped back his fright, and turned to face his beast. Amy glowered at him, her previously jovial stare turning into something cold and—worse, yet—_hungry_. He let out a squeaky, nervous chuckle, and ran his hand over his Mohawk in an uncomfortable habit. Kyana had to smother her smile with both hands when Amy took a step forward and Sam yelped helplessly.

"N-now, Amy…" He said, trying to make himself smaller in supplication. "Don't go getting all crazy. There's a simple solution to this."

He winced as she came closer, watching her move like a predator on the hunt. She prowled forward, arms crossed and eyes like slates of iron; he swallowed thickly. She was a panther pacing in its cage, he thought mildly before he remembered that he was supposed to be scared.

Then, she was so in his face that their noses touched. "What's your so called 'simple' solution, Sammy?"

He laughed again, glancing about at the amused faces that watched on, more nervous as he realized that no one was going to help him. He remembered the last time that Amy had gone to class hungry because of him, and he internally cringed as he recalled the beating he'd taken in Gym. Pulling away, he grabbed his backpack and dug around in a mad scramble, urgency tingeing his very movements. Amy cast a dry look at Kyana that had the taller girl nearly keeling over in a peal of giggles.

"Aha!" He exclaimed in relief, pulling out a paper bag. "My extra lunch! Specially made by Gramgram."

He held it out to her, and she blinked owlishly before hesitantly reaching out to take it. "Thanks, Sam."

He grinned; linking his arm with hers, as the group—disappointed in the lack of violence—broke apart, and he lead her back through the campus gates. "Not a problem, Ames. Anything for one of my girls."

A few of them laughed at that, knowing Sam and 'his girls' were simply the goofy football captain and his two younger sisters. Of course, they also knew of his deep-seeded infatuation with Yazmin, the head cheerleader. Everyone knew he wished she was one of 'his girls'. Kyana quickly got to Sam's other side and smiled as he linked arms with her as well.

At the back, Marissa huffed, feeling extremely left out and rather abandoned until the arm around her shoulder tightened comfortingly. She looked up at her childhood friend, and smiled unabashedly, the gap between her teeth showing. Jason allowed himself a little quirk of the lips, but otherwise kept a straight face. He guided her past his boys, going to walk next to Kyana as they headed into the bustling courtyard of the school.

"And _what_ have I said about racing those carts during school hours?" A commanding voice thundered, and they all cringed.

"Umm… Not to?" Sam said, silently praying for another warning instead of an actual punishment.

Amy rolled her eyes and elbowed him lightly. "To wait until after school was out so that, and I quote, you 'don't have to deal with the police causing a ruckus' if we get caught."

"Very good," Mrs. Wu, their principal, said as she descended the stairs of the Math building. "And Marissa, what have I told _you_?"

"To stop challenging Amy in golf cart races," she hung her head in shame, a faint blush on her cheeks. "Sorry, Aunt Wu."

Mrs. Wu seemed to soften like butter. "Oh, it's no problem, sweetheart. Just… _try_ not to do it again?"

Marissa nodded.

"Very well, then." She scowled at the rest of them, eyeing each person before she let out a sigh and waved her hand. "Get to class."

They scrambled to get away, everyone going in different routes. Amy snagged Kyana's hand and tugged her in the direction of their next class. The brunette followed willingly, laughing as the other girl tripped on the sidewalk and righted herself again.

"Wait," she paused, causing her friend to stumble a second time. "Amy, where's your backpack?"

Amy gave her a look that said a number of things. "Please. You should know better, Ky."

The slightly older girl sighed, shaking her head as they walked. "You did all of the work already, didn't you?"

"You know me!" Amy replied, bouncing breezily up the steps.

The two girls burst through the door just as the bell rang overhead. Glancing at each other, they made their way to their desks and took their seats. An older man stood at the front of the class, staring at them with wide, unblinking eyes. There was a strange, half-crazed twisting on his lips, and his white hair stuck up in several different directions. He was the epitome of the mad scientist.

"Good afternoon class," he croaked.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Barns." They replied as one, having spent the last few months mastering the simultaneous response.

He smiled toothily, clapping a few times before his expression fell serious. The class hushed, their stares matching the teacher's in intensity. He pointed to the board, and the students read it quickly, jotting down notes here and there. After a moment, Mr. Barns dropped his arm and adjusted his lab coat.

"Today, we will study the effect that chemicals have on color." He stated, all business until he cracked another lopsided grin. "Which means… We get to set stuff on fire!"

A few people cheered, the thought of playing with a flame in class bringing joy into their hearts. Amy perked up, her interest caught, as she spotted all of the watch glasses lined up on the desk their teacher stood behind. Each one had a various chemical within it, and she distantly wondered how easy it would be to get Mr. Barns to give her some for her and Sam's next Prank War.

Suddenly, all the lights were out and Mr. Barns had a lighter and a devilish smirk. He laughed loudly, his amusement bubbling to the surface, and every teen in the room slid back in their seats fearfully. He held the flame to the power and cackled as it burst and crackled to life. It wasn't very impressive, a standard orange, but the next few made up for it. They ranged from blue, to green, to purple, and back again.

The lights flicked back on, and the students sat in awe. Someone muttered a soft question, asking when he'd been transferred to Hogwarts, but the class soon fell silent. The only sound was of breathing and the ticking of the clock just above the door. That's when Amy's stomach growled, quite fiercely, in the stillness. All eyes turned to her, and she blushed a pretty shade of pink as a few raised their brows in question.

Mr. Barns tilted his head at her. "Hungry then, Amanda?"

"Starved," she said, patting her belly. "Didn't get lunch."

"Why not?"

"Golf cart racing. The usual."

A few students rolled their eyes, turning away. They'd grown very accustom to the strange antics that their fellow pupils got up to. Mr. Barns, however, appeared to be digesting the words. Tilting his head the other way, his gaze narrowed.

"Do you have food?"

"Um… Yeah."

"Then go to the back and eat it," he smiled, standing a bit straighter, as if he'd just solved all the world's problems.

"For real?" Amy's face got bright and hopeful.

"Yes," he nodded and turned to the board as Amy stood, making her way to the back. "Just take notes and pay attention."

She hesitated mid-step, pivoting back around to look past the staring eyes of her classmates. "Oh, Mr. Barns?"

"Yes?" He faced her, bushy brows high on his wrinkled forehead.

"Your coat is on fire, again."

"I know." He smiled contentedly.

The class spun on its axis, facing forward, and gasping as orange flames licked up the white of his sleeve. Kyana was the first on her feet, rushing up and plunging his arm into the sink and hitting the taps. Water cascaded out, and they all sighed in relief as the fire was quickly put out.

Amy sat in the back, exchanging an exasperatedly bemused look with her best friend from across the room. Tugging out the food, she settled in to happily munch on the food Sam had given her. She was oblivious to a dark gaze that was cast her way, but glanced around when her Spidey senses started to tingle. She met a pair of almost gold eyes, and waved at the dark haired girl with a food-filled grin.

**TBC.**


	3. Beginnings part 2

"_Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."_  
_- Winston Churchill_

**Chapter 2: **Beginnings (part 2)

"So then the lights went out, right?" Amy said, grunting as she held the punching bag in place. "Anddd… Cue the evil laughter."

"Oh, god," Sam threw another low punch. "He was _cackling_?"

Amy barked out a laugh, bracing her body better as Sam paused. "Like the frikken' Wicked Witch of the West."

"That's rich," he muttered, fixing the tape around his knuckles.

Sam looked the bag up and down a second, and Amy braced herself, seeing the gleam in his eye. Pressing herself against the pleather, she winced as he threw a plethora of punches and kicks at the hanging black sack. A few jabs, kicks, and right hooks later, he was panting softly as Amy leaned all her weight against the only thing close enough to support her. Sam leaned in too. His forehead rested against the opposite side as he tried to calm his breathing and pulse.

With a shaky hand, he reached around and patted Amy's arm lightly. "Your turn."

"Thanks," she said dryly, taking a step back from him and their shared object of tension release.

She barely gave him a moment before kicking to the side, her foot hitting harshly at the already worn center of the sandbag. Hiding a grin as her friend groaned from behind it, she jabbed with her left fist and then with her right. Her forearm rammed against the dark material, right where an average person's neck might be, as she swung her other fist low and landed a series of uppercuts. Shuffling back a step, she pivoted on her right foot, and swung the other leg around to send a mean kick to an imaginary jaw line. Sam gritted his teeth, fighting off the urge to just step back and run away screaming. For something so small, she was creepily—almost abnormally—strong.

"He caught on fire, yanno." She said nonchalantly, swinging round to dig her elbow into the bag.

Sam blinked in surprise. "_Again_?"

"Yep," she nodded, twisting again, her short hair fanning out as her right heel clipped the other side. "Full on Human Torch kinda thing. I'm telling you, he should have totally said 'flame on'. Would have added to the dramatic affect."

Peeking around the edge, he let himself grin at her straight face, their private joke bringing back old memories. "I thought _I_ was the Human Torch."

"So did I," she laughed, backing up a moment, only to let out an almost battle-like cry and surged forward.

Sam's eyes widened as he saw the hit coming. He didn't have anytime to react so that he could bare the weight of the attack. The hitch kick knocked him off his axis, sending him flying back onto his ass and the punching bag swung wildly to and fro. A few of the surrounding students applauded and laughed.

"Oi!" Their Gym teacher called, giving Amy a foul look as she stilled the swinger. "Stop abusing my bag! Why don't you two spar, and give someone else a chance with that thing?"

Blushing nicely, the two moved away from the practice bags, and onto the fighting mats. As soon as their teacher turned away, Amy had the gall to stick her tongue out at him. Many of the other teens in her class chuckled under their breath, and she did a bit of a twirl-and-bow for them.

Rolling his eyes, Sam charged with no warning. With an almost frightened gasp, she ducked his hook and swung round, her fighting style changing completely during the spar. Her movements were smooth, flowing together like a dance as she spun, back peddled, and then settled down into a defensive pose. A few people paused in what they were doing to watch the playful fighting that occurred often, but was always strangely new. Sam, himself, did a few movements, mocking his friend's. She quirked a brow and watched with an amused smirk. When he finally finished, she jerked her chin up as a cue, and he struck.

Copying her spin kick from earlier, he entered full force, ready to injure. Amy twisted forward to her right, gliding around like the air itself was propelling her past him. Two open palms met his leg, pushing it back around as quickly as it came. As he spun, he switched legs, and brought forth the same attack on her opposite side. Spreading her stance, she continued her turn right by pivoting on her back foot to spin and face Sam once more. Having dodged out of his reach, she was easily missed by the attack. His left fist came flying next, and she deflected it with another open palm and leant away from the blow.

He twisted, his momentum being spun the reverse direction. Amy grinned, lifting her leg to kick him square in the back and sent him stumbling forward. He growled, doing a one-eighty to glare at her harshly as she tried not to giggle at the unusually serious expression he wore. Noting that her guard was down, if only for a brief moment, he charged once more, resisting the urge to yell a quick 'for Narnia'.

The brunette's eyes widened as all her air left her; she tried to catch her breath while tumbling backwards. Nothing like a punch to the diaphragm to remind a girl to pay attention. Letting out an almost inaudible groan, she blinked away the black spots in her vision and slid back into her defensive position just in time to parry another chop aimed at her neck. Gripping his wrist, she torqued his arm around and gripped the back of his shirt as he turned, keeping him close. Panting softly, she wrenched his arm higher up his back and waited.

"Uncle!" He exclaimed with pain-laced surprise. "_Uncle_!"

Smirking once more, she released him, and the students watching clapped at their leisure. Both of them bowed, happy to please their audience once again. A group of girls giggling had Sam blushing hotly and averting his gaze as he turned to Amy.

"Do you always have to beat me?" He hissed under his breath, relieved when everyone went back to his or her own business.

"What?" She looked at him, head tilted as she stretched.

"You're always beating me in front of…" he made a meager gesture over his shoulder, and gray eyes followed to spot the small group of cheerleaders in their class period huddled together. Sam's face only enflamed more as she waved over at them, and the team captain smiled bright and waved back. The older girl gave Amy a questioning look before scanning Sam in admiration.

Amy simply shrugged before an elbow met her gut.

"_Stop_ having silent, girly conversations with the love of my life!" Sam hissed, pouting slightly as he crossed his arms.

She laughed softly, still cradling her stomach before she could finally form words again. "Well, if you'd just _tell_ her I'm sure she'd reciprocate."

"Yeah, right." He scoffed, running a hand over his Mohawk self-consciously. "She's the daughter of a big CEO, Ames. She wouldn't even spare me a glance. Besides, you never tell a girl that you like her; it makes you look like an idiot."

The brunette didn't have time to argue her own point before he was walking away towards the boy's lockers. With a long huff, she spun on one heel and headed to her own locker room as the teacher blew his whistle to signal the end of class. She'd barely gotten to the doors before a hand on her shoulder stopped her in place.

"Hey," a sweet voice said, and Amy turned to face Yazmin with a smile.

"Hi."

"Is Sam okay?" The girl asked with a frown, tucking silver locks behind her ear.

"He's just being a sour grape because I beat him again. No biggie." Amy chortled and Yazmin smiled.

"Did he—?"

"He's working on it," she replied mildly. "He really likes you, but he doesn't think you like him back. I _still_ think it would be a lot simpler if _you_ just fessed up. Ask _him_ out."

Yazmin's tan skin flushed, and her blue eyes darted around a bit. "That's just so…"

"Terrifying?" Amy asked, and the cheer captain nodded. "Yeah, but it gets the job done. Not all of us have boys chasing us around. We have to do the chasing. And, scary as it is, we have to put ourselves out there."

"Including you? I mean, I've seen the way you look at—"

"Maybe not so much me. This is really more of a do as I say, not as I do kind of thing…" she felt the dire need to change the subject. "I like the hair, by the way. Silver streaks look good. Very school spirited."

Yazmin laughed, twirling a piece of it around her fingers. "Thanks. I did it kind of on a whim. Just feels right, you know?"

Amy smiled. "Yeah. I get that."

Both girls jumped as their teacher's whistle went off again. "Ladies! Can you please get a move on? I'd rather not have to stick around after the bell rings."

Both of them flushed nicely, stifling their mirth as they quickly scurried through the green door and into the locker room. The teacher rolled his eyes, glancing at his watch with a sigh before retreating out of the gym and into his office. Amber eyes glinted in the empty gymnasium, and a man stood with a deadly ease from his spot on the bleachers. He gazed at the girls' locker room door, absently rubbing a finger across the long, angry scar that cut a line through his left brow and down the side of his cheek.

"Zain!" The boy looked over, seeing his P.E. teacher standing there, looking like a flustered fish. "Go get changed, would you?"

He nodded, walking down the bleachers silently, like a lion on the prowl. Sweeping his bangs out of his golden, dangerous eyes, he cast one more glance at the opposite door before walking away. His fists clenched and seemed to flow from within as he thought about her smile. As he thought about how unfair everything was.

* * *

Her muscles burned. Her heart raced. Her lungs ached. Her skin was hot, even as she cut through the cold of the water. Her body rotated, giving her more speed as she sprinted the last fifty meters. She was coming up on the end of it, palm outstretched as she glided in for the big finish. She emerged panting; her goggled eyes darted over to the other lanes before she let out a whoop of triumph. No one else was in yet.

Heaving herself up onto the side of the pool, she laid back and panted numbly, her feet still dangling in the cool, blue water. Laughter met her ears, and she looked up at her coach, who simply pointed to the giant time board on the side of the pool. Amy almost squealed with delight. Not only had she come in first, but she'd also beat her best time. If she hadn't been so thoroughly exhausted, she was sure that she would be doing her Happy Dance—a ritual generally reserved for Sam after a winning football game.

Suddenly, there was something tugging on her ankle, and she yelped shrilly. Sitting up rigidly, she glared down into the water where Kyana was treading quietly. The tan girl giggled, and so did a few of the other swimmers who had rolled into finish not long after she had. A nice blush painted her already flushed cheeks, and she kicked at the water, splashing a few of them. Kyana went for her feet again; ready to yank her back into the water, but Amy pulled them away to tuck her legs under her.

"Alright, alright," Mr. Burgess interrupted the deviants, and grinned at his co-coach—Kyana and Sam's uncle Palmer. "Good job today, everyone. You have a three hundred cool down, and then you're out."

The team groaned in unison, but nodded. There was _no_ arguing with the coach on intervals or distances. Amy was about to slip back in, when he clapped a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him blinking in slight confusion as he beamed down at her.

"You just do a quick hundred," he said, pride in his gaze and voice that he usually only reserved for his son or the water-polo players. "Great job, Amy."

She smiled, sliding into the chill liquid, and paused at the bottom of the pool. With a strong push, she shoved off the ground, streamlining until she hit the wall. Coming up for a breath, she touch-turned and shot back out, taking a slow and easy couple of laps, alternating strokes where she could. Reaching the wall, she pulled herself out, and climbed to her feet.

Water rolled off of her, mixing with the sweat that clung to her skin. She ripped her goggles and swim cap off, shaking her head like a wet dog and letting it cascade around her shoulders in dark, almost black, wetness. Padding over to the bleachers, she grabbed her towel and started drying out her hair. She smiled brightly as the rest of the swimmers climbed out too.

"Good job, today." Kyana said breathlessly, taking the towel Amy held out for her. "You smoked 'em."

"Yeah," she giggled, tugging slightly at the sleek, black of her swimsuit as it stuck to her skin. "It _was_ pretty epic."

"Don't be _too_ humble," Kyana chuckled, sitting on the metal seat to stare up at her best friend.

"Oh, never!" Amy replied jokingly, still ringing out her short hair.

They stood there, chatting and laughing, and a few other joined in; most of them unable to resist such a charismatic personality. Suddenly, Amy stumbled forward a step as one of the other girls shoved by. Cold golden eyes met her wide silver ones, and the shorter girl smiled meekly.

"Sorry," she said, a faint blush on her cheeks. "Was I in your way, Ashley?"

"_Yeah_, actually, you _were_." She snapped bitingly, her black hair hanging in her narrow face.

"Geez, no need to be rude," Kyana said, sliding to her feet, blue eyes glaring.

Ashley rolled her eyes with a snooty huff. "Whatever. Just because I'm not going to bow and kiss Her Majesty's feet—"

"I'm royalty?" Amy asked in mock surprise, trying to defuse the situation before it got too out of hand. "That's so cool."

A few people laughed, but most of them stayed silent, sensing a growing tension between the two girls. Ashley scowled, taking a slow step forward and crossing her arms over her chest. Never wavering, the brunette leveled with the raven, her normally warm gaze turning to steel. They both squared off for a second, the apprehension rising as Ashley's irritation peaked.

"Where to hell do you get off?" She hissed, stepping even closer.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're such a cheat, you know that?" A zing of satisfaction rolled through her as Amy slid back a step towards the pool.

"Okay, _now_ I'm confused." Amy held her hands up passively. "_What _are you talking about?"

"You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about," she snarled, backing her up more. "I _know _what you _are_, Amanda."

"A teenage girl with delusions of grandeur?" A spike of panic shot through her, but she didn't know why even as sarcasm dripped from her voice like venom. "What I _am_? Ashley, I don't know what's wrong with you today, but I'm—"

"I know _what_ you _are_," she stated again, adding a shove into the mix.

That's when Amy felt it. A familiar sense of fear as she stumbled back. She'd always been nervous and wary around Ashley and her brother, but this was full-on 'she's going to kill me'. The floor was slick with water, and suddenly she wasn't stumbling—she was _falling_. Ashley's gaze widened, and she went to reach out for her, but it was too late. That surge of heat she'd felt from the shove was enough to make her tremble and turn away from those outstretched hands.

Amy faintly heard a scream. She didn't know if it was her or someone else, but she knew that there was no stopping her decent. She heard the crack of her skull against cement; a sickening sound that made her gut wrench. She felt it too, and she barely had time to cry out in pain before she hit the water. Her mind raced a moment, trying to piece together what had just happened, but as she sank, all she could think about was the fact that she couldn't breathe and—_oh_, her head hurt. The dark claimed her mind then, and she sank like a rock, welcoming Death's cold embrace.

**TBC.**


	4. Awakenings part 1

_"What we hear while we are asleep continues to resonate with us upon awakening." _

_~ Henry Reed_

**Chapter 3: **Awakenings (part 1)

The ice bit at his skin, even through the layers and layers of clothing that was draped around his young form. Flashes of a storm ran through his mind, and his hands clenched, as if trying to catch the memory of lightning and rain. An echoing groan sent a wash of hot air all around him, thawing his sleep away and melting him into wakefulness. He'd been here before—_lived_ this moment already. More memories flooded through his minds eyes, but they went so fast that they only thing he could get was a sense of achievement and love. He felt so very loved.

A part of him was lost, though. He could feel every part of him. All of his past selves and—future selves? He had those? Was he dead then? No, wait; he couldn't be dead if he had been reborn. Different every time, but still the same. Right?

But apart of him was lost. The _present_ part of himself. He shifted, and the ice sent shivers down his spine as he forced his gaze open wide. Kind blue eyes shined down at him, filled with surprise and concern. His lips quirked into a smile. He knew that delicate, tan face. Those fierce blue eyes. That long, silky mane. He knew her. The lost part of him new her, too—but the version was different and so were the emotions. Love but no passion. _His_ Katara—he knew her so well—but _her_ Kyana. The lost part of him was so confused, but he wasn't.

He was back at the beginning, waking from his cold one hundred year slumber. He was twelve again, and unmastered, but in his mind and heart he _knew_. The lost didn't. The lost didn't even know of her abilities. She would, though. She would come to know everything. Eventually. Just as his journey had, the lost's journey would be a grand adventure full of twists and turns, and he could feel the lost's still hidden power. She was so strong. She would be the strongest of them all.

"Are you okay?" He blinked, Katara's voice—young once more—sending butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

Blinking again, he felt his control drain, and felt the new him coming forth. He felt her panic at the strange world she was viewing and knew that it would take time before she was ready to become what she was born to be…

* * *

Amy coughed, hacking up the water in her lungs as the strange vision of her friend decked in Eskimo clothes cleared. Her gray eyes burst open, and she arched off the pavement, sitting up with her back ramrod straight. Kyana was there, hair dripping once again as she rubbed her friend's back to help calm her. Breathing in short pants as she retched up more water, Amy shook uncontrollably, and forced back the tears in her eyes.

She still felt as if she were lying on a slab of ice even as a large wool blanket was draped around her quaking shoulders. Concern warmed her as words of comfort fell on her muffled ears—she couldn't hear past the high-pitched ringing of near death. Her mind throbbed as she faded in and out for a moment, her knees curled up to her chest, and her hair hung, heavy with water, in her face.

"We need to call an ambulance," Coach Palmer said, his eyes hard, but his voice cracking with worry.

"N-no," Amy whispered. No one heard.

"Did you see what happened, Kyana?" Both coaches were looking at her, knowing she'd give them a straight answer.

The brunette looked torn. All she wanted to do was comfort the friend she cradled so carefully in her arms, but she knew she had to do the explaining. Amy was in too much shock. The _team_ was in shock, hovering by the bleachers and whispering frantically to one another. Kyana glanced at her friend and then over her left shoulder, seeing one of the Lifeguards keeping a firm grip on Ashley's limp arm. The girl looked horrified at what she'd done. Finally, Kyana cleared her throat, turning to face her impatient coaches, and opened her mouth to speak.

"It was an a-accident," Amy murmured.

Suddenly, all eyes were on the injured girl, and a silence so potent it was smothering fell upon them. Gray eyes looked up, pupils dilated in such a way that she looked half-crazed. The coaches frowned, and Mr. Burgess knelt down, placing his hands comfortingly on the small girl's shoulders.

"What happened, Amanda?" He asked calmly, watching as she blinked rapidly. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"It was an accident," she stated more firmly. "Ashley push me, but I slipped. She couldn't have—"

Her voice rasped out and she couched harshly into her hands. Burgess looked up at Palmer, and the tan man nodded down at him. Letting out a slow sigh, the older man stood, excusing himself to go deal with Ashley. Amy watched, feeling a strange sense of pity, before she blinked and stared down at the backs of her hands—anything to keep her mind off of the whole freshly-kinda-dead thing.

"We should get you to a hospital," Palmer said, but Amy wasn't paying too much attention. She was far too busy squinting at the blue arrows tattooed on the paleness of her hands. "Amy?"

"What?" She looked up, head jerking, and she winced as searing heat sailed through her skull.

"We're going to take you to a hospital."

Amy tried to protest, but her voice failed her as her lungs wrung themselves of any excess water. Kyana was there in an instant, rubbing her back soothingly, mumbling strings of assuring nonsense. Coach Palmer frowned, reaching out as the teen coughed to help her to her feet. The world swayed a moment, dancing under Amy's bare feet, and she wobbled—teetering on long legs until a strong hand caught under her elbow to steady her. Blinking past the dizziness, she looked up at her coach and took in his grimace.

"C'mon," he said, ushering her towards the gate doors that would lead them out of the aquatics complex. "Let's get you out of here."

Kyana went to follow, but her uncle shook his head.

"Stay here, Ky." He said, his authority overriding his affection for once. "Randy is going to want to talk to you."

She froze looking over at the other aforementioned coach as he glowered, quite red-face, at the raven-haired attacker. Kyana watched as the girl shrank in on herself, gold eyes darting madly over at the limp form Amy had become, and the olive color of her skin paling to something sickly. Kyana frowned as Burgess snapped at her, and Ashley cringed, looking back up at him.

"I really think I should go with you," she insisted once she finally tore her gaze away.

Her uncle paused, looking over his shoulder at her. "Kyana. Stay here."

Biting her lip, she nodded. Standing there, still dripping wet, a spike of fear ran through her. What if Amy hadn't woken up? Kyana gasped, her hand falling over her heart as her chest ached. A searing sadness swept across her, and tears filled her blue eyes. With trembling, jerky movements, she made her way over to the bleachers. A swarm of teammates were with her then, asking questions and patting her back, offering words of well done.

* * *

Amy stumbled a bit, but coach Palmer held her up easily. She glanced up at him blearily, seeing the oddity of his normally smiling face curled up in a frown. Tan hands guided her along, a cold pressure through the blanket on her already icy skin. When he veered left, she followed. When he practically carried her through green double doors and down a hallway, she made no protest. As they made their way across campus, she couldn't help but stare at the backs of her hands. It was more than staring. It was gawking. Squinting. Searching. The faint blue arrows had long disappeared.

She only looked up when she'd realized they stopped. Blinking, she scanned the room blearily, hardly recognizing it until she spotted the older man sitting behind a large desk; a cup of tea in hand. She was in the Nurse's Office, she noted in silence. Looking up at her coach, she tilted her head in question, but he shook his and pressed a finger to his lips. As his hand dropped back down, she followed it with her eyes, seeing the White Lotus ring he bore. He was talking to Mr. Ian—a teacher at the school, and apparent after-school-nurse—but she didn't catch the words they exchanged. It was like she was still underwater, or like they were from _Peanuts_.

Suddenly, Mr. Ian was taking her hands and smiling kindly as he guided her over to a chair to the side. She winced and pulled away when he shined a light in her eyes. He muttered a quick apology before lifting her chin and flashing the light again, having her trail after it with her gaze. After that, he asked her a series of questions, all of which she answered with ease.

"Well, Jim," Ian said, standing to face his colleague. "She doesn't seem to be concussed. Why don't you go call her grandfather and tell him what happened?"

Palmer nodded, giving Amy a fleeting glance of concern before he rushed off.

She was staring at her hands again when Ian looked her shaken form over. He smiled gently, pulling his chair over so that he could face her comfortably. When he cleared his throat, she looked up, much like a frightened animal, and the old man frowned.

"Are you alright, Amanda?" Ian asked, his voice low and calm as he tried to sooth her.

She paused, as if trying to process it, and then gave him a tired smile. "I think so. Just a little shell-shocked."

"That's understandable," he chortled, stroking the gray scruff on his chin as he smiled amusedly. "It's not everyday that we hit our head and drown."

"Thank _god_," she giggled back.

There was a moment when they fell into silence, the otherwise empty office leaving a heady nothingness around them. Ian cleared his throat again, cutting through the thick quietness as he offered a small grin, and reached over to grab his teacup. He took a long, savored pull from the small, china dish, and let out a content sigh before setting it back down.

"Let's check that goose egg on your head," he said; Amy nodded and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

Ian's face turned serious with the job at hand, and he combed through her hair gingerly. His fingers navigated the back of her skull, and he pressed hard on one spot, causing Amy to jump and let out a sharp yelp. Grinning triumphantly, he pulled apart her hair to get a better look, and to make sure that she wasn't bleeding. Within moments of presses here and there, he retracted both hands, and settled them on his thighs as she peeked up at him through a curtain of wet tresses.

"You're in luck, young lady," he told her, his voice a gruff calmness that gave Amy a strange sense of security. "You don't seem to need stitches."

She slumped in relief, quiet pleased that she wouldn't have to go to the hospital.

"There are some P.E. uniforms in the back," he commented, noting the way she shivered. "Go put it on in the bathroom over there, and I'll make you a cup of tea."

"Okay," she stood and sort of waddled over to the big box of leftover sweats in the back. "Thank you."

Snatching up a shirt and pants, she continued on her trek into the restroom, locking the door behind herself. She peeled herself out of the swimsuit as fast as possible, and yanked on the spare clothes even faster. Her heart was racing; she tried to remember what she saw, and why she saw it. Running a shaky hand through her hair, she willed herself to calm down. Bracing herself against the sink, she exhaled slowly, and let her lungs sit empty a moment before breathing in. Her pulse slowed, and she leisurely looked up at the mirror fixed in front of her.

A bald boy with arrows tattooed on his skin and her gray eyes stared back. She blinked and the image was gone, but her pulse rate was back up. Reeling away, she scrambled for the door, and escaped the solidarity of the restroom.

She exited; suit in hand, her bare feet padding quickly across the tiles until she was back at Mr. Ian's desk. He smiled up at her, holding out a small china cup, and gestured to the empty seat next to him. She took it shakily, and then reached out and grasped the delicate dish. He watched her out of the corner of his eyes as she slowly took a drink from it, and then hummed her content.

"What kind is this?" She asked; her gray gaze fogged over pleasantly, their previous panic gone.

"White jasmine with a touch of peach." He replied softly, sipping his own with a smile. "There's a touch of ginseng for relaxation."

"It's delicious," she muttered, cradling the cup in her palms. "Soothing."

"Yes," Ian nodded. "I find it's the best way to end the day—a warm cup of tea."

Amy smiled faintly, eyes straying from the curling steam above her cup to the older man's slightly wrinkled hands. Tilting her head, she stared dazedly at the White Lotus ring, silently wondering if it was simply a staff thing at her school. Maybe some sort of club. Her attention was abruptly yanked to the door as one of her classmates came barreling through.

Glancing up, she was caught in an eye-lock with the high school's resident rich, brooding, and troubled bad boy. The senior stared at her, gold eyes skittering across flawless pale skin, and she shifted awkwardly. Her jaw went weak as she spotted the angry, garish burn over Zain's right eye. How had that little line evolved into such a monstrous scar? Blinking, the ruined skin faded back down to its moderate, dangerous form.

"_Jesus Christ_," she hissed, burying her face in her hands, and willing her eyes to stop playing tricks.

Mr. Ian hovered about her, concern for her well being far outweighing the pleasant surprise of seeing his nephew. "Are you alright, Amanda?"

She nodded, sitting back up tiredly so that she could smile with feeble reassurance, "yeah, I'm okay… Just still a little shaken."

Ian hesitantly accepted her answer, patting her shoulder before looking to the other man in the room. "Zain, what can I do for you?"

"I need an icepack," he replied, voice making Amy's hair stand on end, as his gaze pinned her in. "Someone pulled a muscle."

"I'll go grab one," he scurried off to the back, and leaving Amy to squirm under the intensity of a smoldering amber gaze.

"What're you doing up here?" He asked, voice low and gravely, and she had to shove down the shiver that wanted to erupt over her body.

She finally looked back up at him; her steady silver clashed abnormally with the burnt gold of his irises. Gulping, she gave him a quick scan, trying to make sure he was _him_, and not some crazy version her mind had morphed him into. Checking off a mental inventory, her gaze darted all over him, just to make sure. Dirt coated cleats? Check. Grass stains on his white football pants? Check. Jersey wrinkled in that just-tackled way? Double check. Sweat rolling down from his just-rolled-out-of-bed hair to his cheek? Check. Eyebrow cocked, looking at her like she's crazy? Check—

"Oh, right," she snapped out of it, internally shaking off her nerves as she gave him a wary look. "Your sister pushed me. I slipped and fell into the pool. Clipped my head pretty good on the way down. Drowned. Woke up with a chest full of water, hacked that up, and then came here. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

Zain scowled at her terse tone and crossed his arms, "My sister pushed you?"

"Yep," a bitter smile spread across her face as she conversed with him. He wasn't exactly her favorite person in the whole world. "There was something about me being royalty before that, but with the head trauma and all—I just _can't_ seem to remember that well. All sort of, you know, hazy."

He could taste the dry, sardonic lilt to her words, and his scowl deepened, "But apparently the trauma didn't fix any of the _preexisting_ damage."

A gleam lit up in her eyes, and a flame of anger began to burn softly under her skin. Zain wanted to smirk, quite enjoying the enraged reaction he could always coax from her with just a few words. He wanted to smirk, but he couldn't. At least, not when her jaw was clenched like that, and the room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. She was about to speak—probably a snarky retort with an incredibly witty undertext—but she was interrupted by a giant heap of green shirt and tan skin squeezing her close.

"Kyanajusttoldmewhathappened," Sam muttered against her neck, and she leaned into the embrace; her previous irritation was completely forgotten. "I'm so happy you're okay."

She was assaulted by the scent of chocolate and sweat, and the feeling of being smooshed by the tons of football gear Sam still had on from practice. Patting him awkwardly on the back, she winced as he squeezed too tight. After a few moments of just holding her close, Sam loosened his grip, face still buried at the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

"Alright, big boy…" she grunted softly as she pushed him back. "I'm fine. You can let go, now."

He hesitated, giving her one more squeeze before letting her go, "You're sure you're alright?"

"I'm _fine_," she said with a laugh, watching the concern in his blue eyes get washed over with relief. "Just a little bump. It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Ian walked back in, tossing the icepack at his nephew, who caught it without glancing away from Amy and her friend. "I can assure you, Amanda, drowning isn't nothing."

"God, I can't believe you _drowned_," Sam said, raking his hands over his face as the stress returned. "You weren't _breathing_."

Sighing in exasperation, she gave her teacher a dry look. "_Thanks_, Mr. Ian. Now he's gonna be freaking for, like, a month."

"Amanda," he had a wry smile on his lips. "It's good he's here to worry. If not, I have the distinct impression that nothing would slow you down."

"Slow me down?" Her head tilted.

"Yes," he said, coming to sit down across from her. "Amanda, you need to take it easy for a while. No overexerting yourself."

Her face scrunched up, not liking the idea at all, and went to argue when Palmer walked back in.

"I got a hold of your grandfather, but unfortunately he can't come take you home." He said, scowling deeply before nodding at his godson in greeting.

"Um, hello, it's called the bus?" she added slowly, as if they were all extremely daft. "I take it practically everyday? To _and from_ school, I might add."

"It would be best if you were escorted home," he stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. "At least today."

"At _least_?"

Her question was ignored as Sam quickly volunteered to take her 'to and from' for as long as they saw fit.

* * *

She sat there, black hair hanging in her face, and she shook uncontrollably. Oh, _god_, what had she done? She'd almost revealed herself. She'd almost _killed _her. She'd just been so _mad_ seeing her _stupid_, smiling face. How _dare_ she be happy when others were suffering? Wasn't she supposed to keep the balance? Well, where the _hell_ had she been when—

A sharp bang had her jumping, and she peeked up through her wet hair at the empty room. Glancing around, she took in the principal's office, taking it all in, and counting anything and everything she could use as a weapon. Another bang had her looking over at the door, and voices rose from behind it. She cringed, picking at her nails nervously as there was a sudden pause in conversation. Her body unconsciously leaned toward the noise as she tried to make out words, but she sprang back a bit in surprise as the deer swung open. Mr. Mueller, her principal, poked his head in, giving her a stern look before a slightly shorter figure was bustled through the door. Her gold eyes widened at the sigh of her brother, still in his football uniform.

As soon as Mr. Mueller stepped out and shut the door again, she was on her feet and buried in his embrace. He tensed a moment before he ran his fingers soothingly through her long hair and held her closer. She sniffled against his shirt, and his arms tightened around her small frame as the voices rose outside once more. Amber eyes looked down and locked with tearful ones, and he pushed her away gently, holding her at arms length.

"You shouldn't be here," she whispered, as if afraid the other men outside would overhear. "Dad must be furious."

"Oh, he was," Zain muttered, his face morphing into something fierce and protective. "He hasn't hurt you, has he?"

Ashley suddenly went from a sniffling mess to an irrational fury. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and she stood stiffly in his grip. "What are you talking about, Zain? Father would never hurt us. He _loves _us, Zain."

"Would someday who loves you do _this_?" He hissed, pulling her small body closer, and twisted her arm over to reveal finger-shaped scars on her forearms. They passed it off as an oven burn.

She jerked away from him, face drawn up in a sneer, and a warning spark in her eyes. "He _loves_ us, Zain. He told me so."

"Was that before or after he hit you this last time?" He snarled back, and then gestured to his scarred face. "He told me he loved me when this happened. Said it would never happen again. That was three days before he slugged me so hard I couldn't see straight. That's _not_ love, Ashley. I don't know _what_ it is, but it's _not_—"

"_Stop it_!" She screeched, and it was ear splitting in the otherwise empty room. "Shut up, Zain. _Shut up_."

They glared at each other, her body quivering and shaking like a lost, little lamb. He grimaced, wanting to reach out to her. To take her close and keep her safe. He wanted nothing more than to keep her safe. Jaw clenched tightly, he took in her breathless form, and watched as steam rose off of her still damp skin. She was looking at him like he was the enemy. Like he was the one who hurt her. Like it was his fault. He supposed it was, in a way. _He_ may have left his father's home, but his sister was still trapped.

After a long moment, he sighed helplessly and looked away. Running his fingers through his mussed hair, he turned away from her in frustration. He couldn't talk to her about this. Not here. Not if he didn't want people to know about his and Ashley's… abilities.

Rubbing his face grimly, he glanced at her and decided for a change of subject. "You pushed Amanda into the water?"

Ashley didn't relax, but at least she stopped steaming. "Yes. She was laughing. It wasn't right."

"She was laughing so you pushed her into the water?"

"I didn't mean to push her that hard. I was just so angry, and my Bending—"

"You _used_ your Bending?" He interrupted, face contorted into a shocked outrage.

"I didn't _mean_ to," she replied lamely with a bit of a shrug. "It just _happened_."

"Do you have _any_ idea what could've _done_?" He hissed.

She cringed, nodding reluctantly.

"She's perfectly aware of what she could've done," a deep, commanding voice said from the doorway, and Zain went rigid as he looked up to meet his father's gaze. "Hello, son."

"Father," he replied tersely, hands curling into tight fists as the older man strode in and rested two hands on Ashley's shoulders. She beamed up at him, her shaking never stopping.

Zain watched in abject horror as that bright smile faltered as large hands dug in painfully. "I'm sure you're aware of what this calls for if the girl does, in fact, Awaken?"

He met his father's gaze coldly. He quaked internally with fear for his baby sister. With anger. Gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw ached, he jerked his head almost imperceptibly. Complacency was key. And he'd do anything to keep Ashley safe. Anything…

* * *

"—_really_ not necessary." She muttered as Sam pulled up in front of her house.

Sam just smiled and kissed her cheek gently, patting her shoulder. She gave him a dry look, knowing he'd been tuning out her grumbling the entire ride home. With a roll of her eyes, she smiled faintly, and climbed out of the car.

"Thanks," she muttered. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"No," he said sternly, a grin playing on his lips to lighten his worry for her. "I'll see you right here at seven."

Her eyes narrowed, and she pursed her mouth in annoyance. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"In the morning," he smiled brightly as she walked away, waving over her shoulder. He waited for a minute, watching as she climbed the stares to her front door, before he drove off.

Amy turned, tracking the rustic Toyota as it pulled around the corner and out of sight, before she let herself collapse on her front patio. She sat, staring at nothing, and fighting fiercely against the harsh tremors that wanted to overtake her body. Jaw clenched tight, she struggled past her shakiness and took a deep breath as she stood. Stumbling over to her door, she jerked it open, and couldn't help but smile as she was met by a large mass of fur and a slobbery tongue.

"Hey Appa," she giggled as the large dog balanced on it's hind legs and licked her pale face. "Miss me?"

He barked, yipping his confirmation.

"Well good," she muttered, patting him softly as he plopped back down to all fours. "I missed you too."

He snuffled curiously at her, nosing her hand as she stopped petting his head. Her face fell for a second as her mind strayed back to what had happened that day, but quickly lit up once more as Appa licked her from wrist to elbow. Giggling, she scratched behind his ears playfully, and he buried his face against her hip. He nudged her, and she laughed again, stumbling to the side as the abnormally large dog nuzzled her and coaxed her further inside.

With a bemused roll of her eyes, she strode past the threshold of her home, shutting the door behind her. Strolling through the foyer, she turned to go down the hallway towards her bedroom. She was accosted by a monkey lunging up and into her arms. She almost screamed, but settled for jumping out of her skin as the pet Lemur settled against her. He made a sort of cooing sound; she scoffed and gave him a sour look.

"Like _that's_ gonna make scaring me any better?" She asked, jokingly serious. "You are _not_ getting any peaches with dinner, buster."

The monkey whined pitifully, big eyes growing larger as it pleaded with her. Appa followed not too far behind as she continued the trek to her bedroom. Chuckling, she scratched the Lemur's head comfortingly and tapped his nose.

"Don't be silly, Momo." She said, opening her door, and letting Appa slip by to jump onto her bed. "Of course I'll give you a peach."

He purred happily, leaping away from her to curl up with Appa on her comforter. The large beast grunted in a bit of annoyance, but didn't bother trying to shrug the monkey off. Amy smiled at the picture as Momo hid himself under Appa's light fur, much to the St. Bernard's chagrin. He grunted again, looking up at Amy with imploringly big eyes, and she shrugged.

"Don't look at me. You're the one that lets him use you as a jungle gym," she chortled as he huffed at her, grabbing her towel off the back of her door. "I'm gonna hit the shower."

Toeing her shoes off, she padded across the hall, and into the brightly painted restroom. As she flicked on the light switch, the pale yellow walls momentarily blinded her, but she proceeded—knowing the room like the back of her hand. She glided across the tile floor and over to the shower. Reaching inside, she turned the hot water on, twisting the knobs until it was just the right temperature.

With a soft sigh, she dragged a hand through her hair, wincing when her fingers brushed over the large lump on the back of her head. With a grimace, she disentangled her fingers and began to pull the P.E. uniform off. She shivered as the air touched her bare skin, and quickly slid into the shower where the water was waiting.

She submerged herself under the spray, head tilted back as the water cascaded down her. Almost scorching drops rolled off of her pale skin, and she reveled in the slight twinge of pain. It made her feel like she was definitely still alive, and suddenly, she felt sick all over again.

"Oh, _god_," she whispered, shivering as she concaved over under the onslaught of heat. "_Oh, god_."

Her eyes were squeezed tight in panic because dying wasn't something that occurred everyday, and _somehow_ she knew her heart had stopped—even if it was only for a second. Tremors ran through her as she collapsed on the cool white floor of the tub, trying her best not to think about death or the strange things she'd been seeing since she'd experienced it first hand.

TBC.


End file.
