Alec's days in the Southern Water Tribe settled into a comfortable routine, a stark contrast to the tumultuous life he vaguely sensed he had once led. The cold, crisp air, the endless expanse of snow and ice, and the warmth of the community slowly began to feel like home.
He learned to fish with Sokka, his heat-sensing ability proving surprisingly useful in locating fish beneath the thick ice. He helped Kanna with daily chores, his quick mind finding efficient ways to manage tasks that had been done the same way for generations. He even found himself enjoying the quiet evenings, listening to Kanna's stories and the crackling of the fire.
Yet, beneath the surface of this newfound peace, a restless current stirred. The fragmented memory of fire, laughter, and a scar, triggered by Katara's waterbending, lingered. It was a persistent itch, a puzzle piece he couldn't quite place, but knew was vital to his forgotten past. He found himself watching Katara more intently during her waterbending practice, hoping to catch another glimpse of the elusive memory.
Katara, unaware of the profound effect her bending had on Alec, continued her daily practice with unwavering dedication. She was a natural, her movements becoming more fluid, more confident with each passing day. She would often seek Alec's quiet presence, finding comfort in his silent observation, sometimes even asking for his opinion on her forms, though he could offer little in the way of technical advice.
One crisp afternoon, the sun, a brilliant orb in the pale sky, cast a dazzling glare across the snow. Katara was practicing near a small, open pool of water, her movements more advanced than Alec had seen before. She was attempting to create a water whip, a difficult technique that required immense focus and control. She pulled the water from the pool, shaping it into a long, shimmering arc, then tried to snap it with precision.
Again and again, she failed. The whip would collapse, splashing back into the pool, or it would fly wildly, uncontrolled. Frustration began to build in her, a visible tension in her shoulders.
Alec watched, his breath held. He felt the familiar tremor in his mind, the faint stirring of the forgotten. He focused on Katara, on the water, on the energy she was expending. He felt a strange pull, a resonance with the raw power she was trying to harness.
Finally, with a frustrated cry, Katara put all her strength into one last attempt. She pulled the water with a fierce determination, and this time, it responded. A long, powerful whip of water shot out, arcing gracefully through the air, before snapping with a sharp crack against a nearby ice formation. The impact sent shards of ice flying, and a triumphant smile spread across Katara's face.
As the water whip snapped, a jolt, sharp and electric, shot through Alec's mind. The crack in the frozen lake of his memory widened, and a torrent of images, more vivid and fragmented than before, flooded his consciousness.
He saw fire. Not the gentle warmth of a hearth, but aggressive, attacking flames, orange and red, streaking through the air. He saw figures, shadowy and indistinct, chasing someone, or something. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and the roar of fire. He saw himself, caught in the middle, disoriented, confused.
Then, a face. A young man, his features contorted in a mask of anger, a burned scar marring his left eye. This burned face was wreathed in fire, his hands launching furious blasts. The image was fleeting, a terrifying snapshot, but it burned itself into Alec's mind. He saw the boy, Zuko, his face twisted in rage, seemingly attacking him, or at least, attacking in his direction. He heard a voice, sharp and accusing, though the words were lost in the cacophony of the memory, but the anger was unmistakable. He was angry at me. The thought solidified, cold and hard.
The memory was so real, so visceral, that Alec could almost feel the heat of the flames, hear the distant shouts, taste the metallic tang of fear. It was a scene of chaos, of pursuit, of betrayal. The scar, the fire, the anger – they all coalesced into a terrifying narrative, one where he was the hunted, and the scarred boy, Zuko, was among his pursuers.
And then, just as quickly as it came, the memory receded, leaving Alec gasping for breath, clutching his head. The pain was excruciating, a thousand needles pricking at his brain, but beneath the pain, a profound sense of clarity began to emerge. He remembered. Not everything, not yet, but enough. Enough to know that the fire, the scar, the anger – they belonged to a past where he was hunted, and Zuko, the scarred boy, was his enemy.
Katara, alarmed by his sudden distress, rushed to his side. "Alec! What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
Alec looked at her, his eyes wide with a mixture of pain and revelation. He saw her, not just as the kind girl from the Southern Water Tribe, but as a beacon of safety, a stark contrast to the terrifying images that had just assaulted his mind. He saw the water, the element that had brought him here, the element that now, more than ever, felt like a refuge.
"Fire..." Alec whispered, the word feeling foreign on his tongue, yet resonating with a deep, unsettling familiarity. "They were... chasing... with fire... and a scar... he was angry..."
Katara frowned, confused. "Fire? Chasing? Who was angry? Did you hit your head again?"
Alec shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind. The memory was gone, but the feeling remained – a sense of profound fear, a deep-seated prejudice against fire, against those who wielded it, and against the scarred face that had burned itself into his mind. He looked at Katara, at the water swirling around her, and a desperate urge, a primal need for protection, surged through him.
Without conscious thought, his hands moved. From his right palm, a small, controlled flame flickered into existence, a vibrant orange that danced with an inner life. From his left, a stream of water, pulled from the very air, coalesced and swirled, a miniature vortex of pure, crystalline blue. Fire and water, held in each hand, perfectly balanced, perfectly opposed.
Tears streamed down Alec's face, hot against his cold cheeks. He didn't know why he was crying. Was it the pain of the memory? The confusion of his fragmented past? The fear of what he had just seen, of what he had just become? Or was it the sheer, overwhelming burden of a truth he couldn't yet comprehend?
Katara gasped, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. She stumbled back, her own waterbending forgotten. She had never seen anything like it. Fire and water, held by the same person, at the same time. It was impossible. It defied every law of bending unless .... He is Avatar.