Gyatso opened his eyes. And this was odd, because last he remembered, he was staring into a sea of Fire Nation soldiers, the ominous skull-like helmets facing him. He had been ready to make his last stand, staring death in the eye and accepting it.

His last thoughts were of Aang and the letter he'd left on his bed, in the dark, cold, vacated room.

I'm scared, the child had written. I don't want to be sent away on the elder monks' terms, and Gyatso understood. Aang was too young for all of this, too young to have to face the duties of the Avatar.

All Gyatso could feel in his last moment was relief that Aang had left, that Aang had escaped this senseless genocide of their people— and sadness, for Gyatso would no longer be able to guide him.

But— Gyatso digressed. It was this current situation that had Gyatso confused out of his mind. Because apparently, he wasn't dead. But he was certain he'd felt it; the burning hot flames of the Fire Nation soldiers, the hell that enveloped him in his final breath.

So… did the spirits wish him to live on? Had he miraculously survived?

No. The spirits weren't that generous.

He looked down at his hands— paws. white tiny little paws connected to thin lanky arms of white fur, a flap hanging off each limb. He'd seen these enough to recognize them anywhere, the small hands and wings of the flying lemurs that always circled the temples.

Then it clicked.

He was a flying lemur now.

He was a flying lemur now.

…

What the ever-loving heck?

Spirits, he was too old to deal with this. What was he supposed to do now? Why was he a lemur?

Gyatso took a deep breath. It wouldn't do to panic. For now, he would meditate, understand his situation, and then go from there.

As easygoing as he was most of the time, being a flying lemur probably warranted some serious thought.

Gyatso sat the best he could with his new tiny legs, resting his paws on the ground. His eyes closed, and he sank into his mind.

Okay. So he was a flying lemur now. He could accept that.

The question was why. The Fire Nation had attacked, and Gyatso knew that nobody escaped. Perhaps it was a gift of extended life from the Spirits? But none had shown themselves to him yet, so he didn't know. The spirits could be fickle sometimes, so Gyatso would probably have to wait a while before he could get his answer.

What was he going to do from now on? The temple was destroyed, no wildlife to be seen anywhere. Gyatso wouldn't find it hard to believe if the flying bison were completely wiped out as well— except for maybe Appa, who'd accompanied Aang. There didn't seem to be any other lemurs nearby either.

It hurt Gyatso deeply. The Fire Nation's complete disregard for life, the way they heartless wiped out every innocent soul here. It was never a fight; the Air Nomads didn't have any organized force to repel the Fire Nation. It had been every airbender for himself.

He allowed himself ample time to mull over the losses. The elder monks, who were fuddy-duddies but always had the Air Nomads' best intentions in mind, the monks-in-training who each aspired towards spiritual enlightenment and mastery, the children who frolicked the temple with their sky bison companions.

The children… oh god, the children were all slaughtered. Hot tears welled up in Gyatso's eyes. He could only hope that they were now at peace in the spirit world.

The sorrow swirled in his mind, settled into him, and transformed into red-hot rage. Anger. What right did the Fire Nation have to take everything away from them? What right did the Fire Nation have to take so many innocent lives? What right did the Fire Nation have to wage war on the world?

Gyatso should kill Sozin, unleash all his fury on Sozin, return everything that had been done to him and more.

It was unfair. It was unjust. It was…

It was what it was. A power-hungry man with no regard for the rest of the world, taking what he thought was rightfully his.

Gyatso felt the angry flames within him dying down, turning once again into deep sorrow. Sozin had taken everything from him and deserved to face judgement, but Sozin was still human, was in the end, still a life.

Gyatso was angry, but it would never justify taking a life.

Gyatso's stomach grumbled.

Oh. He was still alive; that meant he still had to eat.

Perhaps he could find a fruit tree somewhere…?

Surely enough, he found one. A peach tree, with ripe orbs of sweet juiciness, calling to him. Thank goodness.

As he sank his teeth into the fruit, he thanked the spirits that at least one tree had survived the Fire Nation's scourge. The fire as he remembered it seemed to consume everything.

But wait.

It did consume everything. Gyatso didn't remember there ever being a fruit tree here. So…

How much time had passed? Gyatso observed the cracks in the temple's spires, the decaying stone and ruins dusted with snow.

He needed to check something.

Gyatso spread his wings, feeling the familiar sensation of wind flowing around him, letting his wings catch the air like his trusty glider had once.

It was a freeing experience, to once again soar through the sky, but he was grounded once more when he spotted it.

Gyatso ducked under the tarp, into the collapsed building, the surrounding familiar to him. This was the last place he remembered seeing as a human, the place where he made his last stand. Over the faded red armors of legions of Fire Nation soldiers, there it was.

His body.

It had to be his; the burnt yellow cloth barely covering a skeleton, the wooden necklace still strung around his neck worn and faded.

Gyatso would be lying if he said he didn't feel sick.

The peach in his stomach seemed to rise through his throat, threatening to come out as puke.

He'd… thought about it, before, knowing he'd accepted his death, remembering the pain of flames searing his skin. But to see it…

He hoped that someone would be by at some point to give him a proper burial…

It had been a few years since Gyatso became a flying lemur, and he could say that it was not a terrible life.

He didn't like the lemur's diet of bugs. All life was precious, and this was one teaching he'd never give up on. But the peach tree didn't have an infinite number of peaches, so he tried to conserve where he could. He was pretty successful.

There were a few more trees here and there on the land surrounding the temple, and Gyatso heavily took advantage of them. It would probably be best if he didn't leave the temple after all; flying lemurs weren't naturally spotted anywhere other than the temples.

And then, one day, someone came.

It was a Fire Nation ship; that much Gyatso was sure of. He briefly contemplated mugging them of their food and supplies if he couldn't do anything to get rid of them

(They'd taken his home, his people, his life; what was a few scraps of food to that?)

But he decided against it in the end. He shouldn't bear a grudge; they were Fire Nation but they seemed so far unassociated with Sozin and the people who burnt down his home anyways.

The one leading them was too short, too young, too angry. The teenager's face was constantly morphed into one of anger, and if the bandages obscuring half of his face were anything to go by, he probably had a good reason for it.

Another old, wizened man was at the forefront but behind the teenager, and Gyatso found himself interested in him. The old man, Iroh, had wisdom befitting his old age. Gyatso would've loved to have a conversation with him under better circumstances, sharing a cup of tea.

But that wasn't possible now. Gyatso couldn't speak; he could only make little chittering noises.

So he watched.

They left after scouring the place up and down, and Gyatso went back to his solitary life as a lemur.

It had to be maybe four or five years later that Gyatso saw anymore life in the Southern Air Temple.

This time, he could cry.

It was Aang.

Sweet little Aang, looking exactly like he had before, like nothing had changed.

Aang had survived. Aang was still alive! Aang was back…

This must've been why Gyatso was still alive. Aang was still 12, Aang needed guidance. And Gyatso wasn't sure if he could provide it, being a flying lemur now, but he'd try his damned hardest if it meant somewhat lightening the burden on the boy's shoulders.

Oh, poor Aang.

If he was hearing correctly, Aang had been stuck in an iceberg for 100 years. A whole century. Everything had changed. Especially the temple.

As the boy looked reminiscently at the wooden statue of Gyatso, Gyatso himself wanted nothing more than to approach Aang and give him a hug, let him know that he was here, and even though everything had changed, some things still stayed.

But could he even say that? He himself had changed, case in point: he was a lemur. It was heart-crushing to know that Aang had to face this.

And the boy was still in staunch denial, it seemed. His friends were kind, hiding the truth of the temple's fate from him with some quick thinking, and cheering him up with a few rounds of airball, but even they couldn't hide it forever.

Well.

Gyatso knew Aang loved the lemurs and bisons. Maybe seeing Gyatso wouldn't quite bring him the comfort it would if Gyatso were still… Gyatso… but, well, seeing a lemur would still cheer him up somewhat.

Gyatso couldn't resist sneaking up on them while they were in the room of Avatars though. Their expressions of fear and caution were priceless.

"Firebender!" the water tribe boy whispered loudly. "Nobody make a sound!"

"You're making a sound!" the girl retorted no less quietly.

"Shhh!"

"That firebender won't know what hit him."

And Gyatso resisted the urge to laugh, because Spirits, how had they inferred that he was a firebender of all things?

Even more priceless was the excited shout of "Lemur!" from Aang, exuding innocent childish joy. As Gyatso ran, Aang's ringing laughter echoed in his ears. Gyatso committed it to memory.

It made what Gyatso had to do next so much harder.

Aang… he didn't accept yet what happened to the temple. And he needed to if Aang was to move on.

So with a heavy heart, Gyatso ran to where his body was, Aang hot on his trail and joyful.

The joyful laughs fell silent.

"Firebenders…? They were here?"

"... Gya… tso?"

Oh, Aang sounded broken. Gyatso felt terrible.

Aang fell to his knees looking so small. He looked like not the Avatar, not a master airbender, but just a broken boy that had everything taken from him.

Aang shut down.

And then Aang rose again.

Gyatso almost cursed. The Avatar state. He probably should've had more caution when showing Aang… Gyatso may have accepted his own death, but Aang had not.

The winds turned torrential. Gyatso was too light, he couldn't get close— but even if he could, what could he do? There was no way to prove to Aang that he was Gyatso, and Gyatso was once again hit with how inconvenient and unfortunate the circumstances were.

He could only watch as the girl, Katara, comforted Aang, grateful that Aang had found a family.

Aang was truly… the last airbender.

As the three children made their way back to the Avatar's chamber, Gyatso gathered a selection of the best fruits from the nearby trees. It was a gift, a sign of gratitude to the water tribe boy, who'd helped comfort Aang when Aang was crushed by the fate of the temple.

And when they were leaving, Aang declared Gyatso would be his new pet.

Eh. Gyatso could live with that. He wondered if it would be too weird to play Pai Sho as a lemur. Probably.

And Aang needed as many reminders of home as he could get.

Besides. Gyatso quite liked the name "Momo." It was cute.

Aang made one last run around the Southern Air Temple, reminiscing. Sometimes, his face was a picture of sadness, reminded that his home was burned to the ground and things he knew and loved were gone… but sometimes, a light nostalgic smile graced his face, old memories coming to light.

Gyatso reminded himself that to Aang, a few days ago, the Southern Air Temple was still teeming with life and airbenders in training. It was a beautiful place of spiritual enlightenment. And now, it was no more than ruins.

The abrupt change must've been jarring.

There was one last thing that Gyatso needed though.

Perched on Aang's shoulder, he chittered, pointing one thin arm towards his old room.

The Pai Sho table was worn, but still stood proudly in the center of the room, tiles strewn haphazardly over the board.

Gyatso leapt down and picked up the White Lotus tile.

"Momo? What's that?"

Gyatso dropped it into Aang's open palm, and knew Aang had no idea what it truly meant. But he could see in the way Aang's eyes grew moist, the way another sad smile flitted over his face, that though it may not have represented the White Lotus Group to Aang, it meant something else, something more.

Aang looked at the tile and remembered all the times that Gyatso would somehow put this tiny, fragile, and insignificant piece in the center of the board, in the thick of battle, and still come out with an overwhelming victory over Aang.

Aang looked at the tile and remembered flinging fruit pies at meditating elder monks from a high-up balcony, Gyatso laughing beside him and patting Aang proudly on the head.

Aang looked at the tile and remembered airbending training with Gyatso, feeling free while flying in the sky on a glider Gyatso gifted him; going through forms as Gyatso watched and corrected him.

Aang looked at the tile and remembered Gyatso, and that was enough for him to take the tile.

He tucked it into his Air Nomad robes.

"We'd better get back to Katara and Sokka, Momo."

Gyatso once again perched on Aang's shoulder, and, with his tiny lemur paws, patted Aang on the head.

It had a different effect than Gyatso patting him with his large, warm, wrinkly hand, but achieved the same goal just as well.

Aang smiled.