Yeah, Avatar. Again. Do I really hate this series that much? Anyway, I've seen a lot of stories about people from our continuity/timeline/reality/etc. in the Avatar timeline. Here's my two cents.

His whole body ached. He tried to move, but every muscle screamed for him to stop.

What the hell?

His senses had been dulled and he couldn't see at all. He could feel a faint wind gusting past, and… voices? Muffled sounds. He kept trying to move. The soreness wouldn't subside, but he could feel his body start to respond to his commands.

Where am I?

"…nk he …ov…" Muffled speech again. His senses focused. Forcing his eyes open caused him to wince. Light blasted him from all directions. More talking… The words were more distinct now.

"He just twitched again," a young boy's voice reported. Scott? No, it's different…

"Is he all right?" A girl this time. His age maybe? Or a little younger?

"I didn't see him move," another boy, this one older, said skeptically. He felt something… Just something. It was touch. It took all his concentration just to distinguish his senses.

What's going on?

"Don't poke him!" the girl scolded. Fantastic.

"How else am I supposed to tell if he's alive or not?" the older boy asked.

"Poking him doesn't help!" the girl snapped back. I agree… "Are you okay?" the girl asked, "Can you hear me?" Her voice was lighter now. Kind and sincere. He tried to respond, but couldn't speak. He forced himself to inhale, then exhale. With a sharp, pain filled grown, he forced his arms underneath him. "He's getting up!" He forced himself to sit up.

Blurry shapes and colors dashed back and forth across his vision. The breeze was stronger than he realized. "Are you okay?" the younger boy asked. No, not really. The many blobs of color became three blobs of color; two blue ones and one orange one.

"Come on!" the older boy demanded, "Speak up already!" The colors started to take on shapes. The more they started to settle, the wider his eyes got.

"Nuh…"

"He's trying to say something!" the girl said. Faces started to form. The clearer the faces, the foggier his thoughts became.

"N-No way…"

"What was that?" the older boy asked. He could see clearly now. He recognized the boy staring back at him. This is impossible!

"No way."

"Are you alright?" the girl asked. He recognized her too! A dream? Is this a dream or…? Could this be some kind of sick joke? "If you're hurt, you can tell us. We'll help you."

What the hell's going on here?

…

…

…

"What the what?" The older boy asked. He was Sokka. Sokka had dark brown hair, blue eyes, and was darkly completed. He was one of the blue blobs, wearing a heavy fur coat died blue. His expression was harsh, but also inquisitive. His eyes would quickly dart to any movement.

"Are you hurt?" the girl asked. She was Katara, the other blue blob. She was Sokka's sister, and looked like it. Though, unlike Sokka, Katara had a much softer expression. She seemed genuinely concerned, though there was no way she knew the confused and weak individual before her.

"Wait a minute." He looked himself over. He moved quickly enough to cause his muscles to tense up again and he winced.

"Don't hurt yourself," the younger boy, Aang, said. He looked as young as he sounded, he was only twelve. He wore orange and yellow robes and had a shaved head. On his head and hands were blue arrow tattoos. His grey eyes also shown with concern.

From what he could tell, he was all there. He still had his slick black hair, his thin but strong frame, and he could only assume he had the same brown eyes. He was wearing his blue jeans, black t-shirt, navy blue hooded jacket and running shoes. This was a surprise, but a good one since the last thing he knew he was asleep in his pajamas. This situation was confusing and uncomfortable as it was, it didn't need to be embarrassing too.

"My name's Katara," Katara told him. I was afraid you'd say that. "This is my brother, Sokka. And this is Aang," Katara said friendlily, gesturing to her companions, "He's the Avatar."

"Katara!" Sokka snapped, "He could still be a Fire Nation spy!"

"That'd be news to me," he groaned, "But a little caution might not be a bad idea in the future…"

"What's your name?" Aang asked cheerfully.

His mind was still pretty well scrambled. It took some effort to process the question. Now to answer it… What is my name? He thought hard. "Tom. My name's Tom Rindi."

"Tom Rindi?" Sokka scoffed, "What kind of a name is that?" Katara jabbed Sokka in the side to shut him up.

"Ignore my brother," Katara said, almost more to scold Sokka that to advise Tom, "I think it's a nice name."

"Me too," Aang agreed.

Well isn't that cute, Tom thought sourly, I've introduced myself to cartoon characters! Well, I guess I'm either unconscious, drugged, have lost my mind, or have stepped into someone's bad fanfiction…

"Where are you from, Tom?" Aang asked.

"I doubt you've heard of it," Tom said dismissively.

"Well what nation is it in?" Katara asked.

"Probably haven't heard of that either."

"Oh, come on," Sokka groaned, rolling his eyes, "There are only four nations! Are you from the Earth Kingdom, Water Tribes, Air Nomads, or do I need to throw you off this bison because you're Fire Nation?"

"Sokka!" Katara scolded.

"None of the above," Tom said plainly.

Katara turned back to Tom. "Well you have to live somewhere," she said worriedly, "Or was your home destroyed by the Fire Nation?"

"Look," Tom groaned, rubbing his head, "It's a long story, one I don't fully understand yet." Or rather, one I don't understand at all yet… "More importantly, where am I?"

"You're in the sky!" Sokka reported.

Thanks, Tom thought sarcastically, I noticed.

"We're on our way to Omashu," Aang told Tom.

Much more helpful. Judging from the temperature and those winter coats, that'd mean this should be just before 105. That's a long way from the end. Or does that have nothing to do with it? I can feel, so this isn't a normal dream if it is one at all. "I don't suppose you have any idea of what happened to me…"

"No, sorry," Katara said apologetically.

"We found you unconscious in a field," Aang told Tom, "All you had was this." Aang produced a black backpack. Tom recognized it, it was indeed his.

Tom took the backpack and looked through it. Normally his school backpack filled with books and the like was now filled with light camping gear. Someone, his subconscious or otherwise, was going to great lengths to push him along a particular path. Among the effects in the pack Tom noticed his own personal paperback copy of Niccolo Machiavelli's The Prince. No doubt about it. What am I supposed to be here, Tom thought angrily, a Greek chorus?

"Well, if you have nowhere to go," Katara started, "You can travel with us until you can find your way home!"

"That's a great idea!" Aang exclaimed.

"That's a horrible idea!" Sokka exclaimed with just as much vigor, "We don't know anything about this guy! He could still be Fire Nation!"

"I don't mean to impose…"

"Not at all," Katara said happily.

So I am to play the part of this group's Greek chorus. Should I wait this story out, try to accelerate it, or throw these three to the wolves and end this all now? What is this world? How did I get here? How do I get home? I'll have to find out these things for myself… because I have to get home… to her.

Sort of an odd thing, this. I like it. This is far more experimental than I expected, but I suppose I've never planned a story in this great detail before. I have high hopes for this one. We'll see.