Synopsis: Aang recieves a vision of the future during the storm in which he freezes himself and is presented with a choice: Envoke the Avatar State and remain frozen for one hundred years or drown and reincarnate so the next Avatar can save what remains of his people post-genocide. The choice is not easy. It takes a full cycle to bring the world back to peace.

Author's Note: So I literally haven't written fanfiction since I was thirteen, fourteen? But, I rewatched Avatar: The Last Airbender and watched The Legend of Korra for the first time this last year and, man, let me just tell you how hard those shows hit. I am a huge Korra fan. (I know, I know, it has it's flaws writing-wise, but I really just love Korra.) I also love learning about new or different Avatars. And I got to thinking, what if Aang had died in the storm? And how different would the world be? Also, swampbenders. I love them. Leave your thoughts.

BOOK ONE: AIR
AVATAR AANG

We will be together for all of your lifetimes.

i.

Aang leaves the Southern Air Temple filled with anger and guilt. Angry because Gyatso would let them take him from his home and guilty because anger was not something airbenders were ever supposed to indulge.

Appa's fur grounds him. It's soft and coarse beneath his crossed legs and a comforting source of heat as he flies closer to the South Pole.

He's too consumed with his thoughts to notice the storm approaching. Too consumed by possibilities and responsibilities. He's just mastered airbending. Monk Gyatso held his hand as they tattooed his skin blue and wiped the stray tear he'd shed when they reached his forehead and the pain grew unbearable. Now they expect him to master three more elements. What kind of pain would that bring? How would he manage it without his friend to help him?

Aang doesn't expect he'll be a good Avatar. What kind of Avatar runs away from home? Anger twists through him like creeping crystal and he dances around the edge of it as he entertains where he'll go so that the monks never find him.

He's close to the Southern Water Tribe. He could hide there and find a master to teach him how to waterbend. He'd always wanted to go penguin sledding and the South Pole was full of otter penguins. Or he could fly all the way to the Northern Water Tribe and see the dancing aurora lights in the sky and eat seaweed noodles until he puked.

With a giant blue arrow on your head?

Even if he replaced his orange robes with a traditional parka and snow boots, his arrow would be a dead giveaway. Not even his hair would cover it completely if he grew it out. And no one with airbending tattoos and a flying bison could learn waterbending without being the Avatar. Word would travel and the monks would drag him to some hidden corner of the world and stomp out everything that made him Aang and fill him with other Avatars.

Yangchen's resilience. Kyoshi's strength. Roku's compassion. Definitely not Kuruk's recklessness but maybe his charisma or loyalty. They were all accomplished Avatars, but he doesn't want to be Yangchen or Kuruk. He wants to be Aang. He wants to choose his own path and make his own choices. The monks want to take that–and Gyatso–from him.

The rain pulls him from his mind. Appa moans below him when a streak of lightning splits the sky too close for comfort.

"Hang on, boy," he whispers and the anger in his heart is replaced with fear. He's never seen a storm so fierce.

It's too late to turn around so Aang guides Appa as best he can through the growing winds. He tries to shift the storm away from them with swats from his glider and swirling movements of his arms but the storm is as stubborn as a badgermole and ten times as strong.

Another clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning nearly strikes Appa in the side. His friend groans and dips to avoid the blow. Only they're much lower than Aang thought and the waves are much higher than they should be.

Water covers his head. It's a shock and not even his airbending can keep him warm. The water burns his eyes and it seeps through his skin into his bones.

He's floating. Only the tips of his toes can feel Appa but he seems so distant.

Airbending doesn't help him much underwater. The current is too strong and he's too slow to make much of a difference.

Aang had never been able to really bend anything besides air. The monks had used toys to determine he was the Avatar, not a test of the elements, but he should be able to bend water now, when his life depends on it.

He draws knowledge from a scroll he read in the air temple library. It'd been a southern bending style scroll and he twists in an attempt to maneuver himself in a spout that would push him above the waves. He shoots upward, his ascent jerky, and his head pokes above the surface.

Air rushes his lungs and he gasps, floundering, before he sucks in another breath and a wave shoves him back down.

There's no way he can bend his way out of this. Not by himself. Not at twelve years old.

Not unless—

A white glow bleeds into the edges of his vision. It chases away the cold in his veins and suddenly Appa is beneath him, sturdy and strong.

He places his fists together and crosses his legs. An air bubble grows around him, expanding.

The glow has nearly overtaken all of his vision when he feels a grip on his shoulder.

"Come."

Aang opens his eyes with a sharp inhale. The scent of salt and rain is gone, replaced with the tangy, salty smell that oddly reminds him of the way the baby bison smelled when they picked their lifelong friend. He's surrounded by barren trees and a gray sky. His feet sink into dark mud.

"Aang."

The young boy turns. Behind him, a man in deep red Fire Nation robes looks down at him. His hair is snow white and his eyes are a deep amber. Aang has never seen this man in his life, but he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt who it is.

Placing one fist on a flat palm, Aang bows.

"Avatar Roku."

The older avatar bows in return. For a moment, Aang forgets that he was drowning in the South Sea seconds ago.

"Where am I?"

"You are in the Spirit World. I brought you here so that we might speak."

Aang nods but he doesn't quite understand. What is so important Roku would pull him from the Avatar State into the Spirit World?

"I don't have much time to explain. Your body is still in danger in the physical world but you need to know the effects your decision will have. The Avatar State is a defensive mechanism designed to endow you with the strength and knowledge of all your past lives." Roku pauses. "When an Avatar is untrained, the Avatar State can be brought on when the Avatar is distraught or in danger."

"Yes, Avatar Roku. I was–I was using the Avatar State in the physical world. I was drowning. I couldn't bend my way out by myself."

Roku nods slowly. "If you allow the Avatar State to overcome you, you will freeze yourself in the water."

Aang frowns. "Oh. How will I get out?"

"Someone will have to discover you."

"How long will that take?" he asks slowly.

"It'll be best if I show you."

Roku steps forward. He raises his hand, places his thumb on the boy's forehead, and Aang sees.

It'll take one hundred years before he's found. A girl–her eyes are blue, bluer than any sky or ocean he's ever seen, and they make his heart ache–and her brother find him. They tell him of a Fire Nation invasion. The slaughter of his people. He learns that he ran away hours before the genocide. If he freezes in the iceberg, he will be oblivious as Gyatso is forced to use his bending violently. As the boys he was raised with are cut down like trees. He sees a blind girl who listens and waits. She's his earthbending teacher. The greatest earthbender in the world! A boy with a scarred cheek who teaches him firebending and learns from the original masters with him. He sees the lion turtle, another comet, and he sees a marriage and three children and a magnificent city.

Aang steps away from Roku's hand. The vision fades. He clings to the shade of the girl's eyes, but it slips like sand through his fingers. He finds himself missing something he's never seen, someone he's never met, someone who isn't even born.

The young airbender's head dips. "I understand," he says. "If I use the Avatar State, I won't be able to help my people and the world will be unbalanced for the next one hundred years. But…"

"If you deny it, your soul will fade and the next Avatar will be born."

Aang's throat feels tight. It's not fair, he thinks. I want to do things. I want to meet the girl with blue eyes. I want to see Gyatso again.

His hands flex at his sides. Above all else, he wants to go home.

Then he realizes that home–with the airy hallways filled with the scent of just-baked fruit pies and chirping lemurs–is burning now. His people are fighting for their lives. Most will die. Some will live. Those who do will run and hide and live what's left of their lives in the darkest corners of the world, terrified that one day the Fire Lord will return and finish what he'd started.

And he is choosing whether his single life is worth the price it will cost to save it.

He knows his answer, even as Roku begins to speak again.

"If you use the Avatar State, you will have the strength of all the Avatars that came before you. But you also have our knowledge. As the Avatar, you needed to understand the implications of this choice. It is yours and yours alone, but we will stand with you no matter the choice." Roku's voice is soft and wise and Aang wishes he could wrap himself in it and stay here, alive, in the Spirit World forever.

"I understand, Avatar Roku."

Aang raises his head. His eyes burn. Roku looks at him with eyes so sad that it threatens to swallow Aang whole. Is Roku sad because Aang is? Where do the other Avatars end and he begins?

It doesn't matter.

"Can you take me back?"

"Of course." Roku raises his hand again. Before it touches the boy's shoulder, he stops. "We will be with you until the end."

The water and the ice flood back. His body stays warm.

Aang pushes the light away and curls his fingers in Appa's wet fur. His bison has gone still beneath him.

His chest burns and aches. He's an airbender trapped in an endless ocean, surrounded by more water than he could possibly fathom.

I don't want to go, he thinks.

He can feel hands all around him, hundreds of Avatars arriving to guide him to the Spirit World.

In the end, he is not alone.

ii.

The statues in the temples flare, filled with a burst of light. Firebenders across the world pause to watch the display, to watch the light spill from the towers that's brighter than any flame they could create with the comet's power.

They stop. Their generals told them what would happen when the Avatar died. Some feel joy. Others feel darkness swallow their heart.

Monk Gyatso's hands fall from their defensive pose when he sees the tower light up. His blood runs cold. He'd had hope that Aang had made it to safety, that he'd be able to stop Sozin—

He'd hoped too much. A soldier charges him with a stream of fire. There's so much that Gyatso is sure the world is burning.

He has nothing left to lose.

Gyatso inhales through his nose, closes his eyes, pushes out and seeks out the air in their bodies.

If he is to die and his Avatar–his son–must die, then so would they.

Twenty firebenders to press forward. Even he is not strong enough to defeat them all.

His only hope now is that he and Aang are reunited in the Spirit World.

iii.

Somewhere is the Foggy Swamp, a baby cries.

A mother coos at her newborn. She looks to her husband, whose eyes are wide with wonder as he looks at his daughter. She's their firstborn and the most magical thing he's ever seen.

"She's beautiful," he says. His voice catches on the last syllable.

The mother nods in agreement and tucks her pointer finger under her baby's chin. Big green eyes stare up her.

"Welcome home, Kei."

tbc.