I own nothing
He watched them.
Everyday he made sure they were okay, that they weren't hurt or too hungry. He was their keeper.
Aang. The word meant light. Aang was the light for the people. He was more concerned about others then he was for himself. Aang cared for everybody, especially Katara. He loved her, and He knew that. He even welcomed it. One more person looking after his little sister.
Katara was strong. Strong-willed, with a strong body and a strong heart. She stood for what she believed in. She was a rebel, a dreamer, the one who searched for love, the one who wanted it most. He loved her more then he loved anything. She was the world, his baby sister.
Toph. She was still the new girl in his eyes. She wasn't trusted yet. Yet he knew that she was a fighter. She fought her parents, her enemies, herself. She fought against stereotypes, especially ones for those who were blind. Toph was proving something, had her own agenda. He liked her for it.
And for himself? Sokka was the self-proclaimed warrior. The protector. He was the one who had the passion, the one who cared the most. He had experienced love, then had lost it. That had made him stronger. He cared for many things, things he wouldn't admit even to himself.
They became stronger. They would win.
Winning was a slow process. They first had to convince people that there was a war to fight. War was upon them, and still people refused to believe it. Their sons, husbands, and fathers died. Still nobody believed.
How do you convince people like that?
He watched as Aang tried to tell them about the evil of the fire nation. The idea had once been as much a part of Sokka as his own heart. Now he had to forse himself to believe it.
Could a whole nation really be evil? Was it only a most of the nation? Or even just some? Were they evil because they were born that way, or because they were to frightened to fight back?
Zuko had fought back, and had paid the price. Zuko wasn't all bad, Sokka knew that now. He wondered if anybody was all bad.
And day after day they lived. They learned how to fight, how to co-exisist. They fell in and out of love. They played, they cried. They were only human, they had feelings. They got hurt.
Day after day Sokka watched the little band. The group that had met under incredible odds. The people he would trust with his life.
He watched them.
But who watches the watchers?