Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mako lays against the headboard of his bed with one hand behind his neck. The late morning sun shines through the window of his small studio apartment, bringing light to the particles of dust floating through the room. Mako’s a mess, but he patiently waits, watching the figure of the lean man standing at the foot of his bed.

Xing is taking a towel to himself, cleaning up after their early morning fuck. Mako watches, letting himself appreciate the sight. Xing’s a good looking guy: his body is toned and he’s got a handsome face.

“Yuans are on the dresser,” Mako says casually, eyeing Xing up and down. Not that Mako is up for another round, but he can appreciate the view. Xing’s just a few inches taller than Mako, but not quite as broad or bulky. Mako’s pretty sure he’s got water tribe heritage; his complexion is a cool brown and his dark hair is pulled up and back, showing off his undercut. Xing’s back muscles flex as he leans over and finishes wiping himself down.

“Thanks,” Xing replies. He tosses the towel to Mako and starts putting his pants on. 

Mako does a quick pass of the towel over his skin, but stays put. He’s got nowhere to be today. Might as well go back to sleep after Xing leaves. Xing buttons his trousers and picks up the wad of bills on the dresser.

“This is too much,” Xing says skeptically as he thumbs through the money, counting it.

“Are you complaining?” Mako asks with a tilted head.

“No. Tip me if you like, but I’m not putting it toward the price next time.” Xing faces Mako, leaning against the dresser as he folds his arms. He shoots Mako a wide smile and his blue eyes sparkle. Xing always had a good sense of humor.

“Who says there’ll be a next time?” Mako says, impassive.

Xing barks out a laugh. “Oh, there’ll be a next time, alright. You’re a regular. My favorite regular.”

“You probably say that to all your clients,” Mako counters. 

Xing laughs but doesn't disagree. As he pockets the yuans, the morning light hits his arms just so, accentuating the mottling of scars on Xing’s arm. They’re round, raised, and each about a centimeter in diameter—the tell-tale signs of cigarette burns, though they are probably years old. 

Mako refocuses his gaze away from the scars and back to Xing’s bright blue eyes. Whoever scarred Xiang, Mako doesn’t actually want to know. He would never actually ask Xing. It’s just an idle curiosity. No need to muddle their arrangement with something like concern.

Mako doesn’t indulge in much. He doesn't drink alcohol regularly (though he does down an entire bottle of cinnamon whisky after he finishes a job), no drugs, no gambling. He doesn’t hit the racetracks, he hates going to clubs and bars, he doesn’t really have friends, and he hasn’t been to a pro bending match since… Well. Not since the Fire Ferrets broke up. 

Paying for sex is the only form of recreation Mako allows himself.

Mako has no interest in pursuing a relationship, not a real one. He wouldn’t want to subject anyone to all this— his job, his foul moods, his run-down apartment… No one would be interested in him if they knew him, not really. 

But Mako’s only human. He gets horny. He gets lonely. And just because he can't bring himself to actually bring a guy or girl into his life for real , it doesn’t mean it just has to be him and his hand every night.

Mako could probably pick people up the conventional way—hit the bars, find someone eager and willing for a one-night-stand—but that has risks. Namely, the risk of someone wanting more. Mako can't risk someone catching feelings. 

So, if he wants companionship, and a little fun, his options are limited. Mako wants a person who doesn’t ask him personal questions, who keeps him company for a few hours, who gives him a good fuck and then goes on their way. The transactional nature keeps everyone’s feelings in check—it’s just business, after all.

Xing’s not the only person he sees. Mako’s got a small rotation, a few guys and a couple of women too. Xing’s probably his favorite though, even though, in spite of what Xing says, Mako’s probably not Xing’s favorite. Xing knows exactly what Mako likes. And Xing does overnights, which isn’t a service all workers offer.

Mako hates to admit it, but he sleeps better with a warm body next to him. It reminds him of—

Nope. Mako doesn’t want to think about his brother right now.

“Give me my shirt, will you?” Xing says. Mako reaches over the side of the bed and grabs the crumpled garment, feeling the soft texture of the woven fabric as he tosses it overhand toward Xing. Mako chuckles as it lands on Xing's head and he shoots Mako a petulant but teasing glare.

While Xing pulls his shirt over his head, there’s a knock at the door.

“You expecting someone?” Xing asks with a raised eyebrow. 

Mako shakes his head no, but there’s a pit in his gut. The only people who come knocking at his door are people he’s hired, like Xing, and… work. He’s not expecting anyone else so it’s almost certainly work. Fuck. There goes Mako’s plan for sleeping the morning away.

“Want me to get it?” Xing asks when Mako doesn’t move to answer the door.

“Sure,” Mako says with a shrug. If it’s work, he can guess who’s there; Zolt usually sends Shin when he’s got work for Mako.

Mako’s apartment is small. One room, the only doors are the entrance and the bathroom. Xing walks past the kitchenette and small dining table, and Mako swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He throws the sheet over his waist for a little modesty, just in case.

Xing opens the door and Mako can see Stupid Shin (a private title Mako’s given Shin, only in his mind) with his stupid smirk. Shin waltzes through the door like he owns the fucking place. Xing steps back, knowing there’s probably triad talk about to happen. 

Xing may not know exactly what Mako does for the Triple Threats, but he’s well aware of who’s who and knows better than to say anything in the presence of someone as high ranking as Shady Shin.  

“Mako, my man. Whatcha up to this fine morning?” Shin says with a sarcastic leer.

“What’s it look like?” Mako says, standing up, completely and unashamedly nude. He can’t bring himself to care what state of undress Shin sees him in. Mako doesn’t really care about what Shin thinks in general.

“Looks like you’ve been having a good time,” Shin says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and just a touch of disgust. Mako wonders if he could get away with lobbing a little fire Shin’s way. 

Mako walks to his dresser and starts pulling out fresh clothes. He pulls on his black pants and white undershirt. He looks in the mirror and runs his fingers through his hair. His reflection is clouded—the mirror is old and Mako hasn’t cleaned it in who-knows-how-long—which is just as well. Mako doesn’t like looking at himself much. If he looks at himself too long, he might start looking deeper. No sense in looking deeper. He already knows he won’t like what he finds. Why bother confronting it?

Also, sometimes, when he catches a glimpse of himself, he is wracked with the image of his mother. Another thing doesn’t like to think about.

From the corner of his eye, Mako notices Shin has averted his eyes, looking Xing’s way instead—no, not looking, sneering.

It’s too fucking early to be dealing with this.

Generally speaking, people in the Dragon Flats Borough don’t pay too much mind to who sleeps with whom. But plenty of people, even in the criminal underground, look down on sex workers. And some people, even here in Republic City, think that it’s unnatural to sleep with someone of the same sex.

Shin is one of those people.

Shin treads lightly on the subject around Mako—Zolt doesn't have those same hang-ups and even if he did, he’s too business-minded to allow such bigotry within the ranks of the Triple Threats. Mako brings in too much money.

But Shin might say something to Xing, and that pisses Mako off. Shin’s got a lot of nerve, barging in here like he belongs, then wearing his bigotry on his sleeve. 

A spark of protectiveness jolts through Mako. Xing doesn’t really mean anything to Mako—Mako has never had problems compartmentalizing that part of his life—but Mako still has a few tattered shreds of morality hanging by a thread. He’s not going to let Shin threaten or insult or shame Xing.

He scowls at Shin, a warning glance. “Shin, what the fuck do you want?” he asks in a sharp voice, hoping Shin will get the message to either cut to the chase or get out and mind his fucking business.

“Got work for ya. You going to be entertaining your company for much longer?” Shin asks, directing his attention to Mako again, acting like Xing isn’t even there. It’s just as rude and dismissive but at least the disgust on his face isn’t evident anymore. Mako starts pulling his jacket on and scowls deeper. 

“He was just leaving,” Mako says, dismissing Xing with finality. Xing doesn’t say anything in response; he just nods. He understands, he knows better than to hang around a guy like Shin for any longer than necessary. Not because of the barely concealed disapproval of how Xing makes his money, but because Shin’s been a key player in the Triple Threats for well over a decade. He’s not a guy to be trifled with. Xing quietly exits, shutting the door behind him.

“Ah, I see. Didn’t want to splurge on the boyfriend experience.” Shin leans against the scuffed up wall in the kitchenette area of the room. “You ever entertain any ‘guests’ that you don’t have to pay?”

“What’s the job?” Mako asks, sidestepping Shin’s taunts.

“Zolt wants to talk to you in person about this one.”

Mako hesitates. That’s not unheard of. But usually, Zolt sends a message with the details of the job—a piece of paper that, upon reading and committing the details to memory,  Mako immediately sets on fire with his bending. If Zolt wants to talk to Mako, that means the job is bigger, or more complicated.

“Fine. Do you know anything about it?” Mako asks. He mostly just wants to mentally prepare himself. If it’s a bigger job, there’s always more prep to be done: locations he'll have to find a way to access, names to learn, cover stories to concoct…

“No clue,” Shin says with a shrug. “He’s not letting anyone in his office, hasn’t since last night.”

Mako sighs and glances in the dresser drawer before he closes it, raking his eyes over the red fabric nestled between the other folded garments. 

Mako doesn’t wear Dad’s scarf much anymore, and he never wears it on the job. It’s a disrespect to his parents, to their memory. Mako knows they never would have wanted this life for him, and he’s sure that if they’re looking at him from beyond the grave, it’s with disappointment and horror.

Or maybe not. Maybe they’d understand. He wasn’t left with many choices. And when he did have a choice, he always made sure to choose whatever would protect his brother.

Mako pushes thoughts of Bolin away. Now’s not the time for Mako to think about all the family he’s lost and all the bridges he’s burned—not with Shin staring at him. Mako shuts the drawer with Dad’s scarf inside. 

He rides in the passenger seat of Shin’s hotrod and looks out at the street. The Dragon Flats Borough is quiet—though Mako knows that’s because Shin’s out and about. Shin’s probably got some shakedowns on the agenda later today. Business owners and homeowners alike, everyone hides in hopes of avoiding or delaying their payments and the threats that come if they can’t cough up the yuans.

Everyone except Lin Li. Mako smiles as they drive past the Everything But The Dragon! shop. She’s sweeping the porch, and when they pass by, she squares her shoulders, raises her chin, and stares daggers at them with a look that says, ‘ just try to shake me down. I dare you, fuckers.’

Mako likes Lin Li. He hopes her mouthy attitude doesn’t get her in real trouble with the Triple Threats someday. She’s fearless, but brash and careless. It’s bound to bite her in the ass one day. Still, Mako likes that someone in the neighborhood still stands up for themselves. And her shop is full of interesting trinkets, antiques, and curios. And she sells the good booze, imported and strong.

When they arrive at the headquarters, Mako’s hairs stand on end. The door is flanked by Mushi and Tokuga. Zolt usually doesn’t bother posting any muscle outside. Everyone knows to steer clear, and if they don’t, they’ll learn real quick when they step foot inside and see half a dozen guys ready to throw down with anyone threatening their turf.

Mako steps out of the vehicle and runs his fingers through his hair. His nerves are buzzing. Something’s off.

Shin stays in the driver’s seat. “See ya around, kid.”

“Seriously?” Mako snaps. “You drive me here then you’ve just gonna leave?”

“You can walk home. Or catch a cab. I got my own work.” Shin flashes another obnoxious grin and Mako crosses his arm as the Satomobile peels off down the street.

Mako sighs and stomps past the two at the door. They don’t try to greet him, they just open the door for him. Zolt’s expecting him, and everyone knows it. 

Mako’s unease turns to anxiety as he realizes there’s no one inside. What’s going on here? Where is everyone? Mako eyes the door to the back, where Zolt works. Normally there’s someone posted outside his door, but not today. Zolt must have dismissed everyone.

It reminds Mako of the days when the Equalists took over the city. After chi blockers raided the headquarters and took a few low ranking guys, all the Triple Threat’s usual hangs were deserted. Mako had barely managed to escape that day; he and Zolt had managed to fight their way out and narrowly avoid the fate of some of the other guys in headquarters that day. 

Mako shudders to think what would have happened if they’d taken him—if he’d lost his bending—but sometimes he likes to fantasize what would have happened if they’d taken Zolt. If that Amon guy had taken Zolt’s bending…

The fantasy doesn’t hold up well to logic though. If Zolt had lost his bending, he’d have lost his position as the boss. And someone else would have taken over. Someone like Viper—who hasn’t made secret his ambitions to run the Triple Threats. That wouldn’t be good for Mako. As much as he hates Zolt, hates being under Zolt’s thumb, hates being at Zolt’s beck and call; Zolt’s always held up his end of their deal. Zolt’s got some integrity, at least. Viper’s vicious and Mako doesn’t doubt he’d take extreme measures against Mako to either keep him on a short leash or take him for a ride.

Nope. Mako’s not interested in the idea of Viper running things at all. The best Mako can ever hope for is for things to stay exactly the same. In Mako’s experience, nothing ever changes for the better.

Mako takes a deep breath and pulls the door open, stepping inside.

“Mako. You're here bright and early,” Zolt says as Mako enters the room.

Lightning Bolt Zolt is an imposing man. He’s a head taller than Mako, with broad shoulders and a threatening frame. Even seated, he has a harsh presence. Zolt is at his desk, counting stacks of money. 

A lot of money.

“Shin said you had a job. Figured it was important if you had to brief me yourself.” Mako crosses his arms and swallows thickly.

“Important is an understatement,” Zolt says with a cruel smile. “This is the biggest job of your life, son.”

Mako tries not to flinch. He hates it when Zolt calls him ‘son’. Zolt loves to brag about how he ‘practically raised’ Mako, about how he thinks of Mako as family.

Mako doesn’t have a family, not anymore. Not really. The only family he has is…

His heart clenches as he thinks of Bolin for the third time today. He doesn’t usually let himself think about his brother so often. He’s got to get a hold of himself.

“Alright. What’s the job?”

“Actually, I’m gonna let the client give you the details.”

Mako freezes. That’s unheard of. Zolt handles the details of the job, the payment, and tells Mako what to do, either by message or in person. Mako returns from the job with the proof, takes his measly twenty-five percent share, and goes home to drink until he passes out. 

Mako never talks to clients. What the fuck is this job?

A woman steps forward from the shadowed corner of the room. Mako hadn’t noticed her before. She’s shorter than Mako, but she feels taller. She’s wearing what looks like a disguise. She’s got a long coat buttoned up to the chin and wears a newsboy hat pulled down to hide her face. But as she steps into the dim light hanging from the rafters of Zolts dark office, she lifts her chin and Mako sees her face. She looks familiar… Why?

“Mako,” the woman says in a deep, rich voice. Her lips neither smile nor frown, but somehow she seems smug and stern all at once. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Mako narrows his eyes and casts a questioning glance toward Zolt. Zolt gives him nothing; he’s turned his chair to face the two of them and simply flashes a wide, wicked smile.

“Can’t say the same since I don't know who you are,” Mako says with a frown.

“General Kuvira,” she states firmly. She clasps her hands behind her back and squares her shoulders. “Perhaps it rings a bell?”

Mako uses every bit of his willpower to keep his face impassive, but a sick feeling hits his stomach as he thinks again of Bolin.

Bolin has sent Mako one letter since he joined the Earth Kingdom Army. The letter arrived in Mako’s hands as all of Bolin letters do; delivered by Skoochy, a street kid they both knew in the before time—back when Mako and Bolin lived on the streets together. The letter was teeming with energy; strokes of his pen looked excited and enthusiastic. Bolins words in the letter were optimistic; he was excited and enthusiastic as he discussed Kuvira and Bataar Beifong; and about the work of some rich businessman-slash-scientist named Varrick, and about the work they would all be doing: de-escalating the revolts, improving access to technology, distribution of food and supplies to needier regions…

In his letter, Bolin had many things to say about Kuvira: her strength of character, her determination to bring peace, the charity she provides to every region they bring under control, her work ethic, her leadership and organizational skills. “She reminds me of Korra! She’s really passionate and believes in what we're doing!” And while the comparison to The Avatar wasn’t especially helpful—Mako’s never met her or any of Bolin’s friends—Bolin’s happiness practically radiated off the page. 

Bolin had been proud because he was going to be doing good.

Mako wishes he could feel any amount of pride over the man Bolin has become. Unfortunately, the only thing Mako can feel proud of is that he stayed far away from Bolin and Bolin grew up better for it. Mako’s always known Bolin is safer the further Mako stays away from him.

But…

Bolin had been gushing and raving about General Kuvira, about how passionate and good she is. Yet here she stands, in the secret, private office of Lightning Bolt Zolt, in the headquarters of the Triple Threat Triads, apparently seeking Mako’s services.

Nobody good ever hires Mako.

In any case, the proximity of this job, whomever the target might be, is far too close to Bolin for Mako’s comfort. 

“What's the General of the Earth Army doing here?” Mako asks calmly, trying not to let his voice shake. He doesn't like this. He doesn't like this at all.

“Let's not mince words or dance around the subject. I’m here to hire you. I've had my ear to the ground for quite some time, searching for someone both skilled and discreet. At first all I could find were rumors and hushed gossip. It took me a while to track you down, which is a good thing, I suppose. Don't exactly want to be well known in this line of work, do you?”

The question is rhetorical. Mako frowns and waits for her to continue.

“Imagine my delight when I found you! Bolin’s been a trusted member of my inner circle for some time now, and isn't it just a match made in the spirit world that his brother has the skills I need?”

Mako bites his lip. No mincing words indeed, Kuvira is viciously blunt and straightforward. Yet there's a threatening undertone to her every word. 

“Bolin has no idea what I do. And I've made sure it stays that way.” Mako tries to match Kuvira’s vaguely threatening tone.

“And I have no intention of telling him. No, if you pull off this job correctly, everyone wins. Bolin will be none the wiser, I will be able to promote him to an even more prestigious position, and you will get the payday of a lifetime.”

Mako’s heart is pounding. Something tells him this job is going to be high risk. That's the only way to get a high reward.

“Fine.” Mako says with his chin high. “Who’s the target?”

Kuvira flashes him a small, but cruel smile.

“The Earth Prince.”

Mako’s not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't that.  

But Mako's quickly able to put the pieces together. Not that he follows foreign politics closely, but his brother is involved in the Earth Army, so Mako keeps tabs of the progress the Army is making. Kuvira has temporary authority, legitimized by all the other world leaders. But once the aftermath of the Red Lotus revolution has been cleaned up, she's expected to peacefully transfer power back to the Royal Family. The only remaining member of the Royal Family, that is.

Sounds like she doesn't want to hand over power. 

“That’s a big fucking ask,” Mako replies. “Political jobs are extremely high risk. Heads of state are beyond high risk.” Mako's done a couple political jobs before, but those were just mid level executive positions in the local governments. Not a prince.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” Kuvira says without skipping a beat. “Four million yuans.”

Mako has to take a moment to process that. Four million. Four million. Mako can't even comprehend that much money. Of course, Zolt takes his portion first—’service and finder’s fees’, he calls them—and Mako only pockets a quarter once the client pays up. But twenty-five percent of four million is one million. One million yuans.

That's big money. Mako’s mind instantly calculates what he could do with that kind of money.

Mako contemplates several options. He can set aside a private, secret trust for Bolin, in case something happens to Mako. With that kind of money, Bolin would be set for a long time. Mako would have to find a way to launder it before depositing it into any such account, but luckily for Mako he’s got access to plenty of laundering methods through the Triple Threats

He could also use the money to protect Bolin further from Mako’s world: Zolt makes sure no one touches Bolin, but Mako is aware nothing is guaranteed. He could buy off plenty of people within the Triple Threats and the other triads to provide additional incentive to stay away from Bo.

And Mako could certainly get his hands on some emergency assets, in case his life goes south. Mako's not guaranteed any protection if something ever happens to Zolt, and he doesn't really have a contingency plan in place if someone else takes over. He could get false identities, a safehouse far away from the city, a Satomobile he could keep concealed in case a quick getaway is needed, and even a good lawyer on retainer, in case the police catch up with Mako and Bolin needs legal protection to prove he has no real association with Mako’s criminal activities.

Yeah. One million yuans. Mako can do a lot with that money. Mako can never get out, he’ll never be able to leave this life behind, but this payout can change the game. Mako can have more control, more options, more ways to keep his brother safe.

All he has to do is…

“I’d like to add an additional incentive.” Kuvira says calmly. “So we have a full understanding. You do this job, Bolin’s under my protection. Completely. If you get caught after this job, don't worry. As long as you keep your mouth shut, no one will trace anything back to me and I’ll protect Bolin from any consequences—from this job or from future jobs.”

Mako doesn’t love the idea of relying on Kuvira to protect Bolin, but he can’t complain about the offer. 

“If you don't do the job, however…” Kuvira pauses. “Well. If you don't do this job, I can't guarantee Bolin’s safety from anything. I'm still fighting a war, after all. Something bad could happen.”

Classic racketeering talk. Fascinating. Even the general of an army resorts to the same tactics as Shady Shin.

He doesn't have a choice. Not after Kuvira threatened Bolin and not when Zolt is sitting there, counting the cash from what is certainly Kuvira’s deposit, and definitely not when the payout is this big. 

“This is a huge job.” Mako says. “I've got a lot of prep to—” 

“I've got that under control.” Kuvira 's cruel smile grows wider. “There's a job opening for the prince’s security detail. It’s yours. I've pulled all the necessary strings—not directly, of course. None of it will be traced back to me. But you’ll be his new close protection officer.”

“Fine. So how do I get on his security detail, if you've got it all worked out?”

“You’re already hired. You're a freelancer, and you've come highly recommended. You start in three days. You’ll report to your supervisor at the Four Elements Hotel where the prince lives. Your supervisor will have your uniform and will brief you on the security situation. Prince Wu’s primary bodyguard stays full time in a room next to to the presidential suite. Pack light. Here.” She pulls a book out of a bag she has slung over her shoulder and holds it out. Mako steps forward and grabs it, glancing at the title: Security Operations: The Complete Training Manual. “I'd take the next three days to brush up on the jargon in the field so you seem competent.” 

“Fine.” Mako says. It’s not like he can say no. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Prince Wu is not fit to rule the Earth Kingdom and the President merely wants to put him on the throne as a puppet for his own agenda. The prince is an obnoxious, spoiled man-child and a colossal idiot. Since he’s been in protective custody, he’s done nothing but attend party after party, luxuriate away in spas, and throw money around like it’s nothing. Annoying, and also very public. He’ll also always have other security officers around, and they're all cops. If you want to get the job done without getting caught, you’re going to have to find a way to get him alone. ”

“What’s the timetable?” Mako asks with a frown. 

“You’ll need to do it before he’s crowned King. I only have a few more regions to bring under my control. I can’t delay, I’ll look incompetent. I’m estimating you’ll have four months, tops, before they’ll have his coronation. Shouldn’t be a problem for a professional like you, though.”

“How do you want it done?” Mako asks.

“I don’t care. Poison him, slit his throat, electrocute him, drown him in the bathtub, set him on fire, all of the above; I don't care how he dies. Just kill him.”

No mincing words, indeed.

“Won’t be a problem at all,” Zolt says, finally interrupting. “Mako’s got a spotless record. He’s pulled off every job I’ve ever given him, flawlessly. He’s got over twenty kills. He’ll get it done, I guarantee it.”

“Your guarantee means nothing,” Kuvira says in a biting tone. “I didn’t get to where I am by relying on meaningless promises from criminals.”

Mako is taken aback by her haughty emphasis on her last word. Kuvira—in spite of the fact that she's in Zolt’s office, hiring Mako—thinks herself above them, better than them. As if she’s not just as much of a criminal for hiring Mako as Mako is for doing his job. 

Mako supposes she is better than them. Mako’s the one getting his hands dirty.

“I trust,” Kuvira continues, “that the incentives I’ve outlined will be enough motivation for you to get the job done. Have we got a deal?” She smirks at him in a self-satisfied way that makes Mako want to set her on fire.

Kuvira holds out a gloved hand. 

Mako reaches out and grasps her hand firmly, shaking it as he nods.

“We’ve got a deal.”

Mako opens the door to Lin Li’s shop, and even though he’s gentle, the bell chimes as loudly as ever. Lin Li is behind the counter, ledger books open on the table as she does her accounting.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Mako. Saw you with Shady Shin earlier today. What’s that about? They pulling you on back on the ‘protection’ racket again?” Lin Li says as she places her pen in the crease of her book.

“No, ma’am. He was just giving me a ride,” Mako says casually. His eyes focus on her case of glass blown sculptures. They sparkle in the sunlight that shines through the tiny window behind the register counter. They’re all animals, and Mako admires the tiny fire ferret figurine.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure he’ll be around later. And I’ll tell him the same thing I told him last week.” She crosses her arms and smirks defiantly.

“What’s that?”

“That he can kiss my ass.”

Mako chuckles, though privately he worries about her hubris. 

Lin Li is a stout woman, Earth Kingdom heritage most prominently displayed through her jewel green eyes. She’s short, but nothing about Lin Li is small. She carries herself with power, she laughs louder than anyone Mako has ever met (well, not anyone. Bolin’s laugh always rivaled hers, back when Mako was lucky enough to hear it), and when she yells, the whole room trembles. She keeps her black hair long and braids it with ribbons of every color. Her mismatched outfit suits her, she fits right in with the hodgepodge of curios in her shop.

“So what can I do ya for, kid?” she asks with a wide grin.

“A bottle of Dragon’s Fire,” Mako says as he pulls out his wallet.

Lin Li’s face scrunches with disapproval. “Hmph. Finished a job recently?” she asks, judgment all over her face. Mako can’t blame her exactly, but it’s not really her business. Of course, something not being her business never stops her. Lin Li always says exactly what’s on her mind. At least she has the care to not name his work outright.

“No,” he answers honestly. He counts out the yuans and places them on the counter, but she makes no move to pull the bottle from the locked case where she keeps the alcohol.

Instead of further disapproval, her brows crinkle up with something much, much worse. Concern. Worry. Pity.

“What’s the occasion, then?” she asks carefully. 

“What does it matter?” Mako snaps, feeling irate. “You want me to take my business elsewhere?”

Lin Li doesn’t flinch. She never flinches. She’s sturdy and steady and Mako finds that infuriating right now. He may not work the protection racket anymore, but shouldn’t she at least be a little frightened of him? They dance around it, but he knows that she knows what he does for work. Shouldn’t that scare her? 

“You know, Mako. It’s not too late.” Lin Li bends down and pulls a key out of her pocket, unlocks the liquor cabinet beneath the counter and pulls out a bottle of Dragon Fire Whiskey. It’s a rich, honey-brown liquor in a wide bottle with a narrow neck. 

“Not too late for what…?” Mako asks with a frown.

“It’s not too late to get out.” She pushes the bottle across the counter. “You can stop, you can fix things, for yourself, for your brother—”

Mako grabs the bottle, turns and walks out briskly. He likes Lin Li. That's the only thing that holds him back from slamming the door behind him hard enough to shatter the glass. Instead, he shuts it hard enough for the ‘open’ sign to fall to the ground

Lin Li never holds back. But she has no right to talk about his brother. And she also doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.

Because it is too late. Several years too late. It's been too late since Mako agreed to Zolt’s deal.

“You want your brother outta this life? You want him to go make it big, learn pro-bending? You want to make sure he’s untouchable? I can make your dreams come true, son. On one condition…”

Mako had a choice. Escape with Bolin, shack up in the pro-bending arena, and spend the rest of their lives looking over their shoulders, living in fear; or…

Let Bolin go. 

Mako made the right choice. He’s sure of it. He was sure of it when Bolin wrote him that first letter telling Mako how training with Toza had been. Mako was sure of it the day he saw the Fire Ferrets play the first time. He was sure of it when he found out Bolin had somehow befriended The Avatar, and when Bolin managed to secure a sponsorship for his probending team from the heiress of Future Industries. He was sure of it when Bolin snagged a role in a mover and saved the damn president.

And Mako was extra, extra sure of it when Bolin left Republic City with the Avatar and started making a difference in the world. 

Mako saw it all from a distance, how much better off Bolin had always been without him. He was happy, healthy, and had made friends with some of the most powerful people imaginable.

And Zolt had always held up his end of the deal with Mako. As long as Mako remained under his employment, no one in the Triple Threats or the other triads went anywhere near Bolin.

Of course, Mako tried not to go anywhere near Bolin either. 

It was much easier, these days, to stay away from his brother. Bolin had left Republic City, thank the spirits. First, to travel to the south pole as he had take work as an assistant to his friend, the fucking owner of Future Industries. Then, to travel with the Avatar to find airbenders. And finally, to join the Earth Army. 

Mako couldn’t lie to himself. Part of him had seen an out—if Bolin wasn’t in Republic City, Zolt’s promise of protection meant almost nothing. But Zolt’s a smart and cunning man. He oh so kindly reminded Mako where they stood after Bolin left town to help the Avatar search for airbenders in the Earth Kingdom—

“I’m going, get your fucking hands off of me,” Mako says as Ping and Tokuga shove him forward.  He can feel his heart pounding in his ears. Bolin’s out of town. Far out of town. Out of Zolt’s reach. Whatever Zolt wants with him right now, Mako doesn’t have to worry about Bolin. Right?

Ping and Tokuga flank him as they take the narrow stairs that lead to the basement. The condemned warehouse is the perfect cover. It’s been rendered unusable by the spirit vines above, but its basement is untouched by any roots below. All manner of seedy activity goes on down here: the underground fighting rings, high stakes card games, and… interrogations.

Ping pushes the door open and holds it chivalrously for Mako, gesturing with a sick grin.

Mako walks through the doorway, and a chill goes up his spine. Not just because the room is well known to be cold (Viper keeps it that way anytime they have a, uh, guest in the room.) but because, well. They have a ‘guest’. There’s a man tied to a chair in the center of the room. He’s slumped over, his head limply leaning toward one shoulder, and has a brown sack over his head, so Mako has no idea who it is. Viper stands beside the chair, massaging his bloody knuckles—probably not Viper's blood, Mako guesses. His stomach churns.

“Mako, son, good to see you!” The sound of Zolt’s voice pulls Mako’s attention to the wall where he stands with Shin. There’s a slight haze of smoke from Zolt’s cigar. He and Shin casually lean against the stone wall, both of them sporting wicked smiles.

Mako doesn’t acknowledge the captive in the room. He swallows thickly and frowns. “What do you want, Zolt?”

“Oh, just wanted to have a quick chitchat. Have you had a chance to meet Kozue?” Zolt gestures to the man in the chair.

The name rings a bell. Kozue’s a bookie, he’s been around for a while. Mako never ran numbers with him—back when Mako took betting slips and cash, he mostly worked the pro-bending racket and Kozue has always worked the racetracks. 

Viper yanks the bag off Kozue’s head. He groans, rolling his head toward the other shoulder. He’s bruised and swollen, and there’s a nasty cut festering on his forehead.

“Why am I here?’ Mako asks, looking away. He doesn't like where this is going.

“Oh, I like I said. I just want to have a chat. Hey, here’s a fun little fact about Kozue. About a week ago, he started airbending. Isn’t that something?”

Mako really doesn't like where this is going.

“And you know, it’s happening all over, nonbenders suddenly airbending! Say, didn’t your brother just leave the city to travel with the Avatar to go find airbenders in the Earth Kingdom?”

Mako freezes. It’s never a good thing when Zolt brings up his brother. Mako stays silent. He’s not going to give Zolt any ammunition here.

“Well, Kozue here got a bright idea. When he started airbending, he tried to hide it. Thought he’d take all the cash from the last few races and run away to Air Temple Island. Figured it was his one chance to ‘get out’. You and I know better, though, right son?”

Mako crosses his arms. Rhetorical question. 

“Well, needless to say, we can’t have that happening. Kozue’s got just a little too much inside knowledge of our operations. Can’t have him stealing thirty thousand yuans and ratting on us. So Viper has been having a good talk with him, you know? It’s been fun.”

Against his will, Mako’s eyes flit to Kozue. Kozue coughs pitifully, blood sputtering out of his mouth. 

“Message received,” Mako says forcefully. Zolt knows he has less leverage over Mako with Bolin out of the city, but Zolt’s made his point. Mako tries to ‘get out’, he’s going to be the one in that chair. “Are you done?”

“Yeah, I’m done,” Zolt says with a smirk.

Mako heaves a breath of relief. He turns to leave, but Pin and Tokuga block the door. 

“Hold on, Mako. I didn’t say I was done with you .” Zolt laughs cruelly as he walks toward Mako, standing over him. Mako turns back to him and tries to calm his racing heart. “I’m done with Kozue. He can’t be trusted. He wanted out, so he’s gonna get what he wants. Finish him off,” Zolt says with finality.

Kozue suddenly starts muttering, it’s barely intelligible, but Mako can make out a lot of ‘no’s and ‘please’s.

“Really, Zolt?” Mako says with a raised eyebrow. “After all that, do you really think he’s ever gonna try to steal from you and run again?”

Mako hits the concrete floor before he even realizes Zolt had raised his hand to strike him. His jaw aches and his cheek stings and tingles where the back of Zolt’s hand had made contact. Mako is stunned for a moment before he slowly pushes himself up.

“Mako, son, you’ve been doing this long enough to know better.” Zolt crouches down and puts an infuriatingly gentle hand on Mako’s shoulder. “When I give you a target, do you question me?”

Mako doesn’t answer or look him in the eye. He tells himself he’s trying to catch his breath, not that he’s frightened.

“Mako? It’s a yes or no question.”

“No,” Mako says as forcefully as he can manage.

“When I give you a target, what do you say?”

“How do you want it done, boss?”

“Good.” Zolt stands up and gestures toward Kozue. “Lightning.”

Mako picks himself up off the ground and rubs his jaw. Viper steps away, clearing space for Mako to do his job.

Mako hesitates for a brief, gut churning moment as Kozue's whimpers and pleas become more desperate sounding. But Mako shuts the sound out, banishes all his thoughts and feelings, separates the energies within him, and holds onto them just like Zolt taught him. The longer he holds, the slower he circles his hands, the more electricity he charges up—the more powerful the blast will be. More power plus deadly precision, and Kozue’s heart will stop in an instant. Quick and clean. Minimal pain.

He discharges all the power building up inside of him and lets it fly. A white, hot flash brightens the room, a scream—the memory of which Mako will partition away in the recesses of his mind—fills the air, and the smell of burnt flesh hits Mako’s nose.

Success. Mako turns away from the lifeless body and makes eye contact with Zolt. Zolt has a wide grin and he waits for Mako to speak first.

“Do you need me to get rid of the body too?” Mako asks calmly.

“No, we’ll take care of that. Don’t you worry about it.” Zolt puffs his cigar and another haze of smoke fills the room. The smell doesn't quite overpower the scent of burnt flesh. “Listen, son. I just want you to know, our deal is good. I've got friends all over the Earth Kingdom. I'll make sure they know to keep an eye on your baby brother. Nothing’s gonna happen to him as long as you and I are in business.”

Zolt waits expectantly for Mako to respond. Mako’s heart starts pounding again. Even the thought of trying to get out is dangerous. Zolt has made himself very clear.

“Thanks, boss.” Mako feels like someone else has his voice, like he didn't actually open his mouth and speak.

Zolt tips his head toward the door, dismissing Mako. Ping and Tokuga move aside. Mako walks toward the door but is interrupted one more time. 

“Oh, wait. Shin, pay the man!” Zolt says. “Come on, Mako. A job’s a job! You didn't think I’d stiff you, right?”

Mako turns back to see Shin pulling out a wad of bills. If Mako had to guess, he’d say it’s the thirty thousand yuans Kozue tried to escape with. 

“Here you go, Mako!” Shin says with a voice too bright to pair with the smell of cooked flesh lingering around them. He counts out a pitiful amount of money. Not that it matters. Mako’s used to getting shortchanged. “This should be enough to buy a couple hours with one of those pretty boys you like to bend over. Or, wait, are they bending you over?” 

Mako doesn’t grace Shin’s mocking tone with a response. He doesn’t have to.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” Zolt says, his voice sharp.

“Uh…”

“Because it wasn’t particularly funny, in my opinion. And I don’t appreciate you making digs. We’re practically family here!”

“Sorry boss, I wasn't—”

“Mako’s half your age with three times as many kills. Do you see him making digs at you? A real man shows respect. And there’s no shame in a man knowing what he likes, not that it's any of your business what anyone gets up to in the privacy of their own bed. I've got half a mind to throw him at you in the fighting ring. Is that what you want?”

Mako hopes it's just a threat. He's not in the mood to fight. He could probably take Shin easy, but right now he wants to get out of here. He feels nauseated from the smell even as a horrifying, sick sense of gratitude swells up in his heart. Zolt’s twisted sense of loyalty has always protected Mako from idiots like Shin.

“No, Boss. Sorry, Mako. No hard feelings, it was just a little good natured ribbing, you know?” Shin’s voice is a little frantic.

Mako doesn't reply. He just snatches the pathetic number of yuans out of Shin’s hand, turns on his heel and heads out the door.

Mako slams the door shut behind him and books it out of the building. Once he’s outside, he leans against the wall, closes his eyes, and breathes deeply through his nose. He can’t get rid of the lingering scent, and worse, it's now mingling with the smell of the city streets. He doesn’t think about how familiar it is, about being eight years old and hearing the screams and smelling the burning and clutching Bolin's hand as they ran…

Mako realizes after a moment that his breaths are sharp, shallow and rapid. “Get it together!” Mako says out loud to himself. It’s not like he hasn't done this over a dozen times. Agni fucking kai. He can't have a fucking panic attack after a job. He’s nineteen years old. He’s been doing this for four years. He should be past this—

Enough. Mako pushes those thoughts back, far far back in his mind. He walks toward his street, book under one arm and bottle in the other hand. He looks at the whiskey; dragon motifs wrap around the edge of the label in shades of red, orange and yellow. It promises warmth and spice and temporary oblivion.

Mako stops for food on his way home, at Ba Mi Tang Dumplings, a cheap, crappy dumpling joint where the younger guys are always running numbers and collecting bets. Skoochy’s at the counter and he lights up when Mako walks in.

Of course, the only reason Scoochy really likes when Mako comes in is because Mako tips. He might as well, Skoochy is a pretty good pickpocket. If Mako doesn't tip him, Skoochy usually helps himself. Easier on both of them if Mako just hands the money over upfront.

“The usual?” Skoochy asks with a smirk. 

“Yeah. And a bag, too.” Mako places the whisky on the counter and slides a few bills to Skoochy, who grabs them up and gets a nice, sturdy bag.

“What's with the book?” Skoochy asks, glancing at Mako's arm.

“I'm studying for the University entrance exams.”

“Really?” Skoochy asks with a raised brow. 

“No.” Mako slides the book and the whisky in the bag. “Don't you know better than to ask me questions by now?”

Skoochy shrugs and hops down from his stool to give the kitchen Mako’s order. Mako leans with his back against the counter, keeping vigilant as always. Most people in the neighborhood know Mako’s off limits in terms of mugging, shakedowns, and general harassment; but Mako doesn't take chances. There's always danger lurking in this neighborhood.

Especially here. It’s not exactly neutral ground, but it’s neutral enough that some guys from the other triads hang around. Terras, mostly, but sometimes Mako sees guys from the Agni Kais and the Red Monsoon. It’s loud, a little chaotic, and you never know if a fight’s going to break out. Mako has no interest in getting caught in the middle of a fight here. He does occasionally fight in the underground rings for a few extra yuans if it’s been a while since he’s had a job. But Mako doesn’t get involved with street fights.

Still, in spite of the shady nature of the establishment and the threat of violence breaking out at any given moment, it’s a  good place to get information if you need to know what’s going on in the neighborhood.

When Mako returns home and enters his apartment, he stands in the doorway for a few moments, allowing himself to process the task ahead of him. He lays out a mental to do list.

1. Eat his lunch
2. Read as much of this security training manual as possible before nightfall.
3. Drink this entire bottle of whiskey and hopefully pass out until tomorrow.

Mako isn't sure how long this job is going to take, or exactly how he’s going to pull this one off. General Kuvira made it sound like it would be tricky for Mako to manage to get the prince alone so he can do the job. She acted like four months might not be enough time. Mako hopes it doesn't take that long.

Then again, maybe he should play a longer game with this one. It would be pretty suspicious if the Earth Prince got bumped off right after a new bodyguard was added to the rotation. And if Mako is going to be up close and personal with the prince’s other security officers, he’ll have to be extra careful not to get caught. Kuvira said she didn’t care, but Mako thinks ‘natural causes’ is the way to go with this one. An accident wouldn’t be believable, since the prince has a security detail to presumably protect him from accidents.

Most likely, Mako’s just going to have to improvise once he gets a feel for the setting and the people involved. Recon. Find vulnerabilities in his existing security arrangements.  And being on close protection duty, he’ll be spending a lot of time with the prince himself. He’ll be able to learn the prince’s schedule and routines.

He’s done that before, spent time with a target. Gotten to know the target. He once posed as a clerk in the mailroom at the corporate office of Kuem Enterprises for three weeks to pull off a job. The target had been the Chief Marketing Officer. Mako guesses the client for that particular job must have been the guy who got promoted to the position shortly after. 

Mako hadn’t had any problems getting that job done. Working in the same office building as the target, Mako had gotten a clear picture of his routines and was eventually able to pinpoint the perfect time to finish him off. He’d always had dinner alone in his office at the end of the workweek, pouring over focus group reports until well after dark. 

That job had specifics. It had to look like a heart attack. Poison was the weapon of choice. A highly concentrated dose of strychnine did the trick easily. 

That hadn't been easy to watch. But at least it had been quick. Fifteen minutes after the man took his first bite, and the job was done.

Mako meanders over to his sleeping space and pulls open the bottom drawer of his nightstand. He keeps a safe inside, platinum lined. He turns the dial and enters the combination, the anniversary of his parents’ death—a deadly date for the deadly contents—and lifts the lid.

Strychnine. Owl-wolfsbane. Concentrated oleander oil. Nightshade. Good old fashioned cyanide. And some poppy extract, for kindness. Mako much prefers pairing his poisons with opium. It lessens the pain.

Mako’s had plenty of jobs where poison wasn't an option—rival triads don't let anyone like Mako close enough to their food and drink to even try it, so he’s had plenty of jobs where he’s had to resort to break-ins, ambushes and violence. He always does his best to make it quick. 

Whether it's poison, lightning, or a swift neck snap, Mako isn't interested in making anyone suffer.

Not like the job he’d had where he’d been given instructions to make it look like a mugging. That had hit a little too close, considering that was how Mom and Dad— 

Nope. Mako pushes away thoughts of his parents as he carefully selects the bottles of oleander and poppy. 

Legend says that Fire Lord Azulon was killed with this combination, seventy-something years ago. Potent and peaceful, looks like the victim simply went to sleep and never woke up. If Mako is ever killed, he thinks this is the way he’d like to go. No fuss—he’d just close his eyes and succumb to sweet oblivion.

Mako carefully places the vials back in the safe, locking it, and mentally noting to bring them along in case he gets a perfect opportunity early on in this assignment. He sits down to eat his mediocre dumplings, cracks open the book and starts reading. He’s got a lot to learn and only three days to prep for the biggest fucking job of his life.

Chapter Text

Mako’s nerves buzz as he enters the Four Elements Hotel. He’s never been inside before. He’s not as familiar with this part of the City, the nicer parts of town. He’s spent plenty of time Downtown, and he’s familiar enough with the old-money Old Cranefish Town. But Harmony Park is where the richest of the rich go to spend their time and money—things which the high class seem to have far too much of. 

There’s plenty of smaller, less luxurious hotels, inns, and bed-and-breakfast joints elsewhere in town for the ‘regular’ people. The Four Elements is for the ultra-wealthy.  

Mako is a little star struck by the ritzy glamor of the lobby. Everything shines. Striking geometric designs in gold adorn the floor, ornate light fixtures hang from beautiful ceiling roses that must be handcrafted, and there’s artistic representations of all four nations everywhere—statues and paintings and vases and succulents and tapestries, just at a first glance.

It’s a little much, and yet… Mako likes all of it, which surprises him. He supposes that’s why the wealthy must have such things on display. It’s nice to look at, and when you never have to worry about the basic necessities, you can waste money and time staring at pretty paintings on the wall or enjoying the ambiance of a well-decorated room.

Mako meets the head of security, and just as Kuvira promised, there are no questions or concerns, just a simple “Ah, you’re the new close protection officer, good. Here are your uniforms and identification badge. Head on up to the penthouse and Officer Hira will show you your room and brief you on the day’s agenda.”

It’s a simple uniform, boxy and charcoal gray. Unassuming. Excellent for blending in. It’s perfect for security personnel, so they can keep a watchful eye on a charge without drawing attention to themselves.

The blending in might also be good for his real job. 

He takes the elevator to the top floor of the hotel. The presidential suite has large double doors made of a richly dark wood, and another security officer stands at the doors, her hands behind her back and her chin held high. 

“You must be Mako,” she says with her lips quirked into a small grin. “Welcome to Wu duty. They said you’re a freelancer? They’re getting desperate.”

Mako raises an eyebrow. “Desperate?”

“Yeah, they’ve been running his security through the police department, but not everyone is up to the task. His royal highness doesn’t make it easy. Lots of requests for reassignments. I’m Officer Hira, by the way, pleased to meet you.” She bows politely. 

“How long have you held out?” Mako asks.

“Oh, a few months now. But I refuse to do close protection. I’m strictly at the doors or advanced security sweeps.”

“That bad, huh?” Mako commiserates with her. Sounds like Prince Wu is a piece of work.

Obnoxious, spoiled man-child. Colossal idiot. That was what Kuvira had said. Sounds like her assessment might be on point. Unsurprisingly, of course. It’s not like Mako gets hired to deal with good people. Usually his targets have a long history of pissing other people off. Bad enough that someone decides to go hire a guy like Mako. 

“Yeah, he’s a lot. And has surprisingly little regard for his own safety! He just sort of does what he wants and goes where he pleases. Which is a pain in the ass for those of us who have to secure locations ahead of time. I once asked him if he could please give me three hours' notice before changing his schedule for the day so I could do a proper security sweep. You know what he said to me? He said that would ‘ruin the spontaneity’.”

“That’s great,” Mako says sarcastically. But already he’s calculating the possibilities. If the prince likes to change plans and go places that haven’t been properly secured, it might make for a great cover.

“Yeah, keeps us on our toes, I guess. Here’s the keys, and your room is over there,” she points to the next door down. “Normally the close protection officer stays in the second bedroom of the suite, but Prince Wu values his privacy and insists on having the whole suite to himself.”

Mako raises an eyebrow. “And his highness couldn’t be convinced otherwise?”

“No. He even got the president involved. Raiko told Chief Beifong that we had to drop it.” Hira frowns and crosses her arms. “Like I said, very little regard for his own safety. You can drop your stuff in the room, get changed into your uniform and then we’ll get headed out in about twenty. You and Qiao will be escorting the prince to Harmonious Haven Spa today. Get used to that place, he goes there a lot.”

Mako raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he’s a little, uh…” Hira doesn’t finish her sentence, but she makes a vague hand gesture and shifts her stance uncomfortably. “Well. You’ll see, I guess. Good luck in there.”

Mako’s not sure what she means, but he might as well get this part over with. No sense in putting off the inevitable. He heads into the room that he’ll be staying in for the next… Well, hopefully not too long. Less than four months for sure. Mako figures he’ll have a handle on everything and find a way to get it done within a month.

The room is nice. Nicer than his apartment. About the same size, but it’s just as ritzy as the lobby. There’s nice art on the wall, every corner is spotlessly clean, there’s a sofa, (Mako doesn’t own one), there’s a bedroom, for fuck’s sake. Mako gets changed quickly, slicks back his hair (he wants to look professional, after all), and looks in the mirror—the spotless, clear mirror. 

He only looks long enough to make himself presentable.

Mako takes care to conceal the small bottles of oleander and poppy in the pocket lining the inside of the uniform. He doubts he’ll get a chance to use them today—that would almost be too easy—but he wants to have them on hand just in case. Mako breathes in a calming, steady breath, steps back into the hallway. 

Officer Hira smirks when she sees him. “Well don’t you clean up nice! Well, any more questions before you meet His Royal Highness?”

Mako shakes his head no. Time to meet the target. Hira knocks on the doors and after a moment, they swing open and there stands the Earth Prince, Wu.

“Your Highness,” Officer Hira says. “This is Mako, your new close protection officer—”

“Ah finally! A professional!” The prince throws his hands in the air before grabbing Mako by his arm and pulling him into the suite. 

“Not that all the others are unprofessional— no offense intended, Officer Hira, you’re absolutely delightful! And easy on the eyes too,”   Prince Wu continues as he winks at Hira, keeping a tight grip on Mako’s arm. Hira frowns, but Prince Wu pays her no mind. “It's just that they're all cops, and it's always ‘I want to get back to solving cases’ this, and ‘I want to get back on my beat’ that. Anyway, that's the trouble with police-run protective custody, isn't it?”

Prince Wu stares at Mako expectantly, blinking his wide, earthy-green eyes, and Mako realizes that the prince is actually expecting him to respond.   Mako guesses a spoiled member of the Royal Family wants a yes-man. That's what Mako will give him.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Mako says simply.

Prince Wu smiles and Mako swallows hard. There’s mischief in the prince’s green eyes, and Mako is suddenly, very uncomfortably aware that the prince’s hand is still on his arm. He glances down at where the prince has a tight lock on Mako’s arm—Mako absently wonders how such slender fingers can have such a firm grasp. Prince Wu tugs Mako the rest of the way into the suite.

“Just call me Wu, big guy. No need for formalities.” He finally lets go of Mako’s arm and flops backward onto the sofa. “I guess Prince Wu is fine, if you want to be professional. But ‘Your Highness’ always rubbed me the wrong way. Ancestors help me if I become a ‘Majesty’. What about you? ‘Officer Mako’, ‘Specialist Mako', something like that?”

“Just ‘Mako’ is fine, Prince Wu.” Mako puts his hands behind his back, maintaining an air of professionalism in the face of the prince’s casual nature.

“Well alrighty then, Mako, pleasure to meet you and all that! Officer Hira, is the car ready? We’ve got lots to do today!” Prince Wu pumps up an eyebrow and smiles brightly.

Mako had expected a spoiled, petulant brat. And there’s certainly plenty of time for that. But as Mako’s eyes linger on the prince’s sprawled out limbs, his dark hair and the enticing smile plastered on his face, the only words coming to Mako’s mind are… Charming. Good looking. Alluring—

Mako can’t believe he let the thought slip through the carefully constructed boundaries in his brain. He should have hired Xing one more time last night, he must be pent up or something.

It’s not the first time he’s had a good looking target, but Prince Wu is something… extra. The lithe physique, radiant smile, those long slender fingers—

“Mako, pal, you’ve got some laser focus there!” the prince says with a smirk. Mako snaps out of it. Pent up. Yeah. That's all. “I’m very eager to see how this arrangement works out! Our first stop today is the Harmonious Haven Spa!”

“First stop, Your Highness? Do you have additional plans today? Because if so, I haven’t been briefed on them.” Officer Hira says, barely containing her frustration. 

“Oh, nothing specific, you know. Just thought I’d pop by Kwong’s Cuisine, then maybe catch a mover at the Songbird!” Prince Wu crosses his ankle over his knee, stretches his arms out across the back of the sofa and grins widely.

Officer Hira sighs. “I’ll secure the locations…” She rolls her eyes discreetly at Mako, as if to say see what I mean?

And he does, sure. But Mako is a little surprised by the casual decision to ‘pop by’ Kwong’s Cuisine. That place is the most prestigious restaurant in the whole city. Mako’s heard there's a wait-list for reservations, even for lunch, and they book out for weeks. He guesses princes are exempt from things like wait-lists.

“You know, Officer Hira,” Prince Wu says, casually playing with the end of the golden-yellow scarf draped across his shoulders. “Plain-clothes protection is still on the table. If you want, we can drop by a boutique, get you a ritzy dress, you could pose as my dinner date at Kwong's?”

“Not a chance, Your Highness,” Hira declines quickly. “I’m not your close protection officer, plus I'm not going to try and guard you in a dress.”

“Ugh, fine.” Prince Wu’s already relaxed body goes completely limp on the sofa as throws his head back in frustration. “Buuuuut…” he drawls out.

Prince Wu suddenly leaps back to his feet and is at Mako’s side in an instant. He gives Mako’s shirt cuff a tug and sweeps his eyes up and down the entirety of Mako’s body.

“Oh boy, oh boy. This uniform is not doing you any favors, big guy.” Prince Wu shakes his head in disapproval (which, c’mon. Mako didn’t pick the uniform. And it fits fine. He can’t possibly look that bad. Right?) and then throws an arm over Mako's shoulders. “Whaddya say? We could drop by the tailor, get you measured, pick out some nice suits and get them fitted. And you can blend in, pose as my drinking buddy!”

“Uh,” Mako’s taken aback and genuinely not sure how to respond. The prince is a few inches shorter than Mako, but his face is very close and he’s got a tight grip. Mako isn’t sure how to politely and professionally shrug out of the prince’s hold on him. 

“No thank you,” he settles on quickly. Given the way Officer Hira had reacted, Mako gets the sense that this is something that Prince Wu has offered several times to all his guards, and if they've declined, he should follow suit. 

Also, he has vials of oleander and poppy in his inner pocket. He probably shouldn’t relinquish his clothes.

The scent of the prince’s cologne lingers in Mako’s nose, citrus and spice and something else he can’t quite place. It’s incredible and Mako has to stuff away the urge to inhale deeply. He takes a step away, and the prince lets go.

Prince Wu is unfazed though, and simply flashes a grin. He pats Mako’s chest, his hand landing dangerously close to the vials he’s got in the inner pocket. “Oh, I’ll wear you down eventually, tough guy. Just you wait.”

Mako has never seen such a place as the Harmonious Haven Spa. 

Not that he’s never been in a spa before. He’s stopped into the Northern Spring Sauna in Old Cranefish Town on more than one occasion. Not to luxuriate away, of course, but to gather intel for jobs. The elders of the neighborhood often meet there to discuss business, and like all rich people, they pay little to no mind to the employees. So if Mako ever needs information about the most powerful families in that part of the city, he slips a few Yuans to the receptionist, the attendant, or the housekeeper.

He’s only done two jobs in Old Cranefish Town, so it’s not like he’s been to the sauna that much. But he remembers what Northern Spring was like. It’s an old fixture of the city, and the interior reflects that: timeless and rustic. Old Cranefish town is all old money. The families there have been there for generations, since before Republic City was a Fire Nation colony. Northern Spring reflects the values of the neighborhood—tradition.

And what could be more traditional than hiring someone like Mako to get rid of a rival? 

Harmonious Haven, on the other hand, is fairly novel and extremely high end. The decor is more modern: sleek, sharp, and minimalist. A new business for new money. Not that the Earth Prince is new money, exactly, but he has no roots in the city.

Mako meets Qiao, Prince Wu’s current bodyguard, whom Mako is replacing. Qiao gives him an overview of the building, its points of entry, the locations of all windows, and the employees. Prince Wu visits the spa at least once a week, and the entire staff has been vetted. 

Apparently being a prince is stressful, given how frequently Prince Wu ‘requires’ massages. And Mako was unaware, he notes sarcastically, that flawless skin is a requirement for royal duties. Prince Wu receives a number of treatments Mako has never even heard of. 

“Been on the force fifteen years,” Qiao says quietly but gruffly as they stand outside the private massage room, where the prince will apparently be for the next ninety minutes. “And I’m relegated to a glorified babysitter. About time they used all that royal money to hire someone outside the police department. It’s a waste of city  taxpayer money for the police to run his security, if you ask me.”

“You think so?” Mako asks simply.

“Yeah! I mean, I get why, they need the whole Earth Army to clean up the mess in the actual kingdom, and the president wants to open up new diplomatic channels or something. But come on. He’s not a United Republic citizen! Plus, we haven't dealt with a single attempt on his life. I hear they're close to shipping him back to Ba Sing Se, not a moment too soon.”

Mako nods politely. It’s obvious there’s slack in the current lineup already. Prince Wu’s current security officers are burnt out and uninterested in their jobs. This job is looking easier and easier by the moment.

Mako averts his eyes when Prince Wu emerges from the massage room. He’ll be entering the sauna next, to ‘sweat out the toxins,’ but that means he’s in nothing but a towel. Prince Wu stretches his arms high above his head and yawns. Mako does not stare at the way his hip bones are prominently peeking out just from the top of the towel. Spirits, Mako is definitely pent up. He’ll need to take care of that later.

Four hours and seven treatments later (including a hair appointment to fix the prince's hair back to its coiffed perfection), Prince Wu is finally finished and ready to leave. Not before he spends several minutes complimenting the staff, however. He winks and throws around flattery like it's nothing. He pulls out his wallet and personally tips each employee, finishing with the receptionist as they walk about the door.

Qiao bows politely, and there’s an expression of relief and gratitude as he officially hands over primary security duties to Mako. “Back to my beat, finally,” he says to Mako. “Never thought I’d say that!”

Mako opens the door to the satomobile for the prince, and slides in after him. Next stop, Kwong’s Cuisine.

“Have you ever been to Kwong’s?” Prince Wu asks Mako casually.

“No, Prince Wu.” Mako stiffly maintains his air of professionalism. 

“Oh, well you’re in for a treat! I know the chef personally and I’ve got a standing reservation at a lovely table in the corner, so prepare for the star treatment.”

Standing reservation? Mako was not aware that such a thing exists. That explains why the prince can stop by anytime he pleases.

It’s just the two of them, Hira is on location at the restaurant and Qiao is probably hitting the nearest bar to celebrate his freedom. Enclosed in the car, the aroma of massage oils is almost overwhelming—not in a bad way. It just hits the back of Mako’s nose and it's difficult to ignore. 

The prince prattles on about the menu—a fusion of delicacies from all four nations—while Mako glances out the window. Harmony Park could practically be a different city altogether when compared to the Dragon Flats. Every building is clean and undamaged, even those with spirit vines winding and entwining throughout the architecture. The people walk through the streets wearing flashy accessories that would get them mugged in the wrong part of town.

The Dragon Flats Borough is more dingy, dirty and run down. Most of the buildings that were damaged by the spirit vines were never repaired. And most people know not to walk down the street wearing jewelry with gemstones.

They’re dropped directly at the restaurant door. Mako exits first and sees Hira waiting. She approaches, and Wu waits before climbing out. 

“Restaurant is secure,” she updates Mako. “I’ll stay on patrol outside the building. You have fun in there,” she adds sarcastically. Mako feels like there's something he’s missing underneath her tone, but he’s not sure what she’s implying. Just that guarding the prince is annoying, he guesses.

Prince Wu walks into the building like he belongs there, and Mako supposes he does belong in the nicest restaurant in the city. More so than Mako, anyway.

Mako wonders how difficult it would be to tamper with the food and drink here. 

Prince Wu flashes a wide smile at the host of the restaurant, who greets them with a deep bow. “Your Highness, right this way.” Looks like the staff know who Prince Wu is by sight alone. He leads them to a small, but intimate table with booth seating in the corner. Prince Wu takes a seat and looks expectantly at Mako.

“Why don’t you join me, big guy?” Mako pushes away the heat threatening to creep across his face. Big guy. That’s the third time Prince Wu has called him that. It's so casual, it borders on inappropriate. Who talks like that? 

Mako's no stranger to nicknames—it's a time honored tradition in the triads, plenty of people earn nicknames. Two-toed Ping. Shady Shin. Lightning Bolt Zolt. But Mako doesn't have a triad moniker, and he definitely doesn't want one. Big guy? That's borderline ridiculous.

“I’m your close protection officer,” Mako reminds the prince with a frown. “I’m not here to dine as a guest.”

Prince Wu huffs a dramatic sigh. “Hira has secured the premises! And I’d be safer the closer you are, wouldn’t I? Plus, you need to eat!” Prince Wu pats the booth seat and smiles encouragingly. “C’mon!”

Mako stubbornly remains standing, putting his back to the column next to the table and placing his hands behind his back. If Prince Wu has a standing reservation here, he must frequent it. Routines are often where lapses in security lie. Mako takes note of his surroundings and begins mentally memorizing and cataloging the layout of the building, the faces of the staff, and he avoids looking at the prince directly. 

“Well fine, I’ll dine alone, again, I suppose— oh! Yuka!” Prince Wu calls out, waving his hand in the air.

A waitress scurries over to the table and greets the prince with a formal bow and a smile. “Hello your Highness. It’s wonderful to see you today. Can I get you started with the usual? Cucumber Aloe water?”

“Yes, Yuka, darling you are practically clairvoyant! Some spicy octopus fritters, too, please. Oh! And please, meet my newest bodyguard, Mako.” He gestures toward Mako with a flourish of a perfectly manicured hand and a sly smile.

“Welcome, Officer Mako—”

“Just Mako,” he interrupts, correcting her. “I’m a freelance hire, not police.”

“Oh! My apologies. Can I get you anything as well?”

“No, thank you.” Mako politely nods his head and straightens his spine, continuing to scan the room.

“I’ll be back shortly, your highness,” the waitress says. She briskly walks away toward the kitchen.

“I can’t believe it! No necklace, again, ” Prince Wu says with a soft huff and a pout. “You didn’t see a necklace on her, did you?

“I’m here to watch for security threats, not look at the waitstaffs’ accessories.” Mako keeps his head forward, facing out and away from the booth. He pauses, though. What a strange question for the prince to ask him. “Why?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Prince Wu says, lowering his voice. “But one of the line cooks is planning on proposing to her. He’s an immigrant from the Northern Water Tribe, she’s second generation Southern Water Tribe. They’ve been together for a couple of years and Achak showed me the betrothal necklace… But either he hasn’t gotten the guts or worse! He asked and she said no! He’s very worried about the traditional proposal, she’s a Republic City dame, so he’s nervous she'll be expecting something modern, like a ring.” His expression makes it clear he's deeply invested in the outcome of this proposal.

Mako stays silent. The waitress—Yuka—returns with a drink for the prince. “Your fritters are being cooked as we speak. What else can I get for you today, Your Highness?”

“Oh, Yuka, darling, I haven’t quite decided. I’ll let you know as soon as I do!”

It’s stupid, and pointless, but Mako pays attention, and there’s definitely no betrothal necklace. Yuka bows again and returns to her other duties. 

“Mako, my man. How do you feel about curry?” Prince Wu asks out of the blue, resting his chin on his fist.

“Uh. I don’t know. I like it, I guess?” Mako frowns. He already told the prince he wasn’t interested in dining here. He wouldn’t really know how if he tried, anyway. Looking at the other tables, there’s a huge assortment of cutlery and the meals are so small, and each guest seems to be eating with flawless manners that Mako is not sure how to emulate.

“This place does an Earth Kingdom curry with a Fire Nation twist. A chicken curry on a bed of lemon rice, but with togarashi. I bet you’d love it!”

“I’m not dining with you today, Prince Wu,” Mako says firmly.

“We’ll get it to go! Eat back at the hotel! Chef Khanh doesn’t usually allow to-go orders, but they make an exception for me.” Prince Wu takes a delicate sip of his drink and keeps his eyes on Mako.

“Not necessary,” Mako says calmly. He understood the terms of employment, he’s been provided a room at the hotel and is able to eat for free from the hotel’s kitchen. There’s no need for the prince to order something for him—

“Oh, humor me, won’t you? Or, what’s the problem, can you not handle spicy food?” Prince Wu’s face is completely innocent, but his tone almost sounds like a challenge.

“I like spicy food, that’s not the problem—”

“Then it’s settled! We’ll get you the chicken togarashi curry to go!” Prince Wu says triumphantly, leaving no space for argument. “Of course, the togarashi is nothing compared to how spicy the Ba Sing Se yellow curry blend is.” He leans back casually as if he were in the comfort of his dwelling in the presidential suite, rather than the most high-end establishment in town.

Wait. Did the prince just imply that Earth Kingdom curry was spicier than Fire Nation togarashi?

Mako makes eye contact with Prince Wu for the first time since arriving at the restaurant, and yes, he’s got a goading expression on his face, as if he’s trying to get Mako to argue with him. 

Hmm. Maybe the prince doesn’t want a yes-man after all.

“I’d have to respectfully disagree, Your Highness.” Mako raises his chin and continues scanning the restaurant. He deliberately reverts to the more proper title, because if he’s going to argue with a prince, he should probably make sure he’s showing proper respect. Right?

“Oh? Oh, I see. You’re under the incorrect impression that Fire Nation food is spicier than Earth Kingdom food. Well, it can’t be helped. Your file didn’t say, have you lived in Republic City your whole life? Or did you immigrate from the Fire Nation? Either way, it’s to be expected if you’ve never had the chance to taste authentic yellow curry.” Prince Wu shrugs disinterestedly.

“I happen to have Earth Kingdom heritage, Your Highness,” Mako says before he can stop himself. Spirits, what has gotten into him? Why did he say that? Prince Wu is trying to goad Mako on and he’s somehow succeeding. Mako hasn't talked about his ancestry in a long time. He’s never one to talk about all that—his past, his history, his father —not to anyone . And especially not to…

A target.

Mako stiffens his posture. He’s done this before. He’s spent time with targets. He’s talked to targets. He's gotten to know some of them. This is no different. This job may have the highest profile target he’s ever been hired to take out, but it’s the same as any other job. He just needs to do what he always does. Compartmentalize. Keep looking for the perfect opportunity to finish the job. Remember why he does any of this in the first place.

If you don't do this job, I can't guarantee Bolin’s safety from anything.

Mako recenters himself and mentally vows to avoid more interpersonal talk. 

“You don’t say! Well, I stand by my argument.” Prince Wu waves his hand dismissively. “Fire Nation spices are hot, to be sure. But it’s all flash and show! You take a bite and bam! Your mouth feels like it’s on fire in an instant. But you take a sip of tea or lychee juice and it’s extinguished as quickly as it ignited. But a Ba Sing Se yellow curry, when prepared traditionally, wins, hands down. You take a bite, and it doesn't seem like much, but then it sneaks up on you. It’s a slow burn, and once it takes hold, it’s impossible to put out that fire.”

Mako frowns at Prince Wu skeptically.

“Don’t believe me, tough guy? Fine. I’ll get the Ba Sing Se Curry to go as well. We’ll have a little contest back at the hotel— Yuka!” He waves down the waitress and she hurries to the table right away. “Yuka, sweetheart, I’m taking my meal to go today.”

“Oh… Uh. Well, I’m not sure if Chef Khanh will allow that, they don’t usually—”

“Nonsense! Khanh and I are dear friends, I’ll speak to them personally.” Prince Wu apparently will not be taking any further comment on the matter, as he picks up his drink, abandons his table, and abruptly walks through the dining room toward the kitchen.

Mako has no choice but to follow, but he’s taken aback by the sheer hubris of wandering into the kitchen at a place like this. Well, maybe the prince really is close with the chef, and this isn’t a concern? Yuka seems to be frozen in place, unsure if she is allowed to stop the prince. Who’s higher ranking in a Republic City restaurant? The heir to the Earth Throne or the Head Chef? 

Prince Wu rounds a corner that leads back to the kitchen and bursts through the double doors, somehow not spilling a drop from his glass in the process. He moves so swiftly and suddenly that Mako actually finds himself struggling to meet the prince’s stride without jogging.

“Oh, no. No no no. You are not ordering off-menu again, your highness.” A tall person in a white apron brandishes a kitchen knife at a cutting board and Mako’s starting to see what Hira was talking about, when she said Prince Wu had no regard for his own safety.

“Oh, now, Chef Khanh, don’t be like that! I’m not ordering off-menu, I’m simply ordering to go!” Prince Wu says as he stops short of weaving through kitchen staff bustling through the busy kitchen.

“Absolutely not. Dine-in only. You want fast food, go to Best Ramen. I hear they opened a new franchise location in Old Cranefish Town.” The Chef starts chopping some vegetables with their oversized knife, but Prince Wu is apparently unconcerned about the sharp object in close proximity to him. 

Mako didn’t think he’d actually have to guard the prince for real, here. And certainly not on his first day.

“Prince Wu,” Mako says sternly. To Mako’s surprise, he retreats back to Mako’s side. 

“Chef Khanh, I must insist. I’m certain an exception can be made for me? It will be our little secret. None of the other guests need to know! Please?” Prince Wu sounds genuine, but his ‘insistence’ is somewhat undercut by his pleading tone.

“Whatever. Fine.” the chef says, apparently not willing to endure the begging any further. “Just tell Yuka your order. I’ll pack it up, I guess.” They roll their eyes and continue their prep, no longer acknowledging Prince Wu or Mako’s presence.

“See?” Prince Wu grins at Mako, tugging on his arm playfully. “Just a quick little chit-chat and all is well. Oh! Achak!” He flags down one of the line cooks, Achak, apparently. The young man peers over nervously, his eyes darting back and forth between Prince Wu and Chef Khanh. He probably isn’t supposed to stop working, not even for a prince. But the way the prince had gossiped about the betrothal, Mako guesses it’s going to be hard to get him to leave well enough alone.

“Hello, Your Highness.” Achak bows. “What can I do for you?”

“You can give me a little update!” Prince Wu’s voice drops to a loud, breathy whisper. “Did you give you-know-who the you-know-what?”

“Oh!” Achak’s face turns red and he shakes his head ‘no’. “I uh… haven’t found the right time. I’ll do it, I just need to make sure the timing is right, and, uh…”

“Well, don’t wait forever!” Prince Wu says insistently. “Life is short, don’t waste time trying to make it perfect! Oh, are those my octopus fritters?” he asks as he observes another line cook plating up some food.

“Prince Wu,” Mako says as firmly as he can manage without sounding irritated. “We should return to the dining room.”

“Ugh, fine, ” Prince Wu’s shoulders slump in exaggerated despair.

Mako manages to coax the prince back to the table, but he continues prattling on and on. Spirits, he talks a lot.

“—so we’ll take the food back to the hotel, I’ll prove to you that your fire nation spices aren’t all that, and then after I was simply dying to see this new mover, Bender: Never Say Bend!”

Mako frowns at the prince as he takes his seat. “I heard that was terrible,” Mako says as he stands at his self-appointed post.

Prince Wu barks out an surprised laugh. “Ohhhh I see, we’ve got a mover critic in our midst!”

Mako lets a gruff sigh escape, “I’m not critiquing anything, I’m just telling you what I heard.”

“And that, my friend, is the problem! One critic writes one bad review, and suddenly no one wants to see it. Be a free thinker, Mako. Keep an open mind, see it for yourself, then make your judgment! Besides—” Prince Wu pauses to take a dainty sip of his beverage, “there’s something compelling about a truly terrible mover.”

“You’re joking,” Mako says with a raised eyebrow. “You like bad movers?”

“Of course! The cheap sets, the cringe-worthy writing, the flat acting, the awful special effects… It’s like an art form in and of itself!” Prince Wu leans back in his seat and fiddles with the end of his scarf. “Honestly, people need to get over themselves and just enjoy things. Whether it’s a powerful, tear-inducing masterpiece like Love of a Lion Turtle, or a low quality campy film like It Happened One Harmonic Convergence!”

Mako frowns, shakes his head and turns his head back to scan the room. The waitress, Yuka, returns to the table with the appetizer, takes the prince’s order, and assures him that both curry dishes will be sufficiently spicy just as he requested.

Mako averts his eyes when Prince Wu shoots him another look of mischief. Something about the way Prince Wu looks at him makes anxiety simmer deep in his gut.

Prince Wu munches on his fritters, prattles on and on about movers. 

“And we can't forget the origin of the mover industry. Nuktuk might have been little more than a propaganda tool, but it set the standards! Never understood why they didn't have a waterbender play the role, but that’s part of the charm, in my opinion. The ingenuity of the special effects was a novelty, and—”

Mako tunes Prince Wu out completely. He’d like to tell the prince to please shut up, he doesn’t want to hear about the Nuktuk franchise, because he very much does not want to think of his brother at the moment.

But unfortunately, it’s too late. Bolin’s smiling face is plastered in his mind’s eye, and it’s an uncomfortable, but necessary, reminder of Mako’s job.

Something bad could happen.

“Hey, did I lose you big guy?” The prince’s voice cuts through, interrupting the memory of Kuvira’s threat.

“I should focus on the security situation,” Mako answers, well aware his voice has gone stiff and cold.

Prince Wu seems startled, and for a moment, it seems as though he might actually stop talking. The silence doesn’t last for long, however. He abruptly changes the subject back to the spice debate, and Mako resists the urge to roll his eyes.

The presidential suite of the Four Elements is huge.

Mako barely had a chance to take in his surroundings when he’d been introduced to the prince, but now that he’s entered the room and the door is shut, the scope of it is apparent. Mako’s entire apartment could fit in the living area. Though that’s not saying much. Mako’s apartment is small by most people’s standards, even in the Flats.

Mako’s never needed much space. Why bother with anything bigger than a studio? He sleeps, he eats, he reads. He supposes he could use more space for workouts, but he also doesn’t have much furniture, so the living area of his apartment is bare, plenty of space to keep up with exercising.

Hira is posted outside the door. When the prince had announced that Mako would be eating with him in the suite, Hira furrowed her brows and averted her eyes. She finds Prince Wu irritating, Mako can tell, but Mako sort of feels like he’s missing something. She keeps teetering between annoyed and uncomfortable, or irritated and awkward.

Mako hovers at the bar seating in the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen. There’s a full kitchen in this hotel room. Why? There’s a kitchen downstairs, with full room service. And Prince Wu doesn’t strike Mako as the type to cook. 

Prince Wu carefully lays out the carry-out food; the curries are distinct, one yellow and one red. He makes a very big show of setting a glass of water in front of Mako.

“Now, Mako, ol’ sport, there’s no shame in needing to wash away the heat if it’s too much for you,” Prince Wu says in an obnoxiously patronizing voice. 

Maybe it’s stupid—Prince Wu isn’t long for this world, why on earth should Mako feel the need to prove something as inane as this? But he wants to make sure the prince knows that not only is Fire Nation food the spiciest, but also that Mako can handle the heat.

“Say, your file said you’re a firebender, right? Looks like this could use a little reheating here!” Prince Wu says, then stares at Mako expectantly.

Mako sighs and pulls some heat to his palm, ghosting it over the food to bring it back up to temperature. The prince’s eyes light up as the food lets off steam.

Mako resists the urge to preen at the prince’s reaction.

Prince Wu is seated on the bar stool, but Mako remains standing on the opposite side. Prince Wu doesn’t hesitate and digs into the red curry, barely a flinch. Mako follows suit, and the spice hits hard and fast. He stubbornly does not take a drink. Prince Wu’s eyes glimmer in the soft lighting and his grin makes the corners of his eyes crinkle happily.

A few more bites, and both of them simultaneously reach their breaking points, gulping down their water at the same time. Prince Wu’s laughter is almost infectious, as is his excitement that Mako is willing to play along with his little competition.

The yellow curry is next and damnit, Prince Wu was right. The heat sneaks up on Mako, burning his throat and tongue and no matter how much water he drinks, it lingers.

“You win,” Mako concedes. “This is spicier.” He points to the yellow curry, admitting defeat. 

“Of course it is!” Prince Wu says with a smug smile. “But enough torture. A palate cleanser!” He reaches for a fruit basket nearby and pulls out two moon peaches, offering one to Mako. Prince Wu takes a bite, skin and all. He wipes away some juice from the corner of his mouth and smiles brightly.

Mako takes a bite, relishing the sweet, tangy flavor as it finally extinguishes the spice on his tongue.

“Well, tough guy,” the prince says after he finishes off the rest of the moon peach, “I think we oughta get ready to hit the Songbird, don’t you think? I should get changed. I’ll meet you outside!” With almost no warning, Prince Wu bounds away, shutting the door behind him as he enters what Mako assumes is the bedroom. Mako’s not really sure why a trip to the mover theater warrants a change of clothes, but he guesses it’s an upper class thing.

Mako’s left in a fancy kitchen with two empty plates in front of him and a moon peach in his hand. He’s not sure if housekeeping takes care of such things, but he instinctively puts the plates in the sink all the same.

Prince Wu ate and drank first, with no hesitation, but he didn’t leave his food or drink unattended. Mako will have to watch closely for an opportunity, should it arise, to use the vial in his pocket.

Of course. He could watch for opportunities to get the job done by other means. He’s still convinced poison’s the way to go here. 

Mako steps outside the suite, and Hira nods at him. 

“He still planning to go to the Songbird?” she asks Mako with no fanfare. 

“Yes,” Mako answers as he crosses his arms. “Did you do a sweep?”

“Sure did,” she answers. “I’ll check everything out again before you two arrive. So. How’s your first day going so far?” 

“Fine,” Mako answers simply. “He barged into the kitchen during lunch. Completely unaware of all the knives around him. But other than that, no incidents.”

“Right. Yeah, he does impulsive shit like that all the time. Gotta keep a sharp eye on him, I guess. He seems to have taken to you quite well, though,” she says flatly. “Watch out for that, since he’s…” She trails off.

“Watch out for what?” Mako asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Well. You know. He’s…” Hira eyes him cautiously, studying Mako’s expression, though he remains impassive as he waits for her to explain. “I mean, he makes a big show of flirting with women when he’s in public. But it's pretty obvious he, uh. Swings the other way,” Hira says, as if it’s a warning. Like Mako should be careful around someone like Wu, who might… What? Be attracted to other men?

That's what Mako’s been missing out on?

“Is that why you don’t work close protection?” he asks, testing out the situation, hoping he’s misreading her.

“It’s not the only reason.” She shrugs. “But I’ve watched him run off a few of the guys assigned to guard him by getting a little too familiar with them. Anyway, he’s gotten started early with you. Already using the tailor as an excuse to get you out of your clothes and trying to get you alone in his room.” She makes a face that reminds Mako very much of Shin’s. Disdainful with just a touch of disgust.

Mako’s incredulous for a moment. He’s had Zolt looking out for him for so long, and over in the Dragon Flats it’s no secret that Mako is bisexual. But he’s in a different world now, a world where no one knows him and everyone assumes, for some reason, that he’s straight. So he’s taken aback by how quickly Hira has laid out her feelings and bigotry with no shame.

A hot feeling of protectiveness starts to boil inside him. Which is ridiculous, because the prince isn’t exactly going to be around for much longer. Why should he care if some miserable beat cop who hates her job has a problem with him for possibly being gay?

Mako doesn't actually care. Not about the prince, anyway. It’s the principle of the matter. Same reason Mako got snippy with Shin before he could make a mockery of Xing. It’s 174AG, in Republic City, for fucks sake. What is this, Sozin-era Fire Nation? People need to get over themselves.

Mako’s speechless for a moment too long, and Hira continues talking to fill the silence. “Hope I’m not scaring you off already. I’m just saying. He’s already practically hitting on you, so watch out.” She shrugs.

“I’m not concerned about it.” Mako squares his shoulders and averts his eyes. He drops his earlier veneer of congeniality and shifts to a colder presence. Mako might be here under false pretenses, but he’s not going to fake camaraderie with Hira if she’s going to wear her intolerance on her sleeve.

Hira raises an eyebrow and presses her lips in a thin line. “Well. Good, I guess—”

Suddenly, the double doors swing open, and Prince Wu strides out the door past Hira and Mako, seemingly unawares of the tension between them. 

“Alrighty, Mako-the-mover-critic. Are you ready for the cinematic masterpiece that awaits us? Remember, open mind,” Prince Wu says, tapping his finger to his temple. 

“I doubt I’ll be able to focus on the mover,” Mako says impassively. 

Prince Wu doesn’t falter, he simply flits close and tugs on Mako’s shirt cuff. “I don’t suppose I’ll convince you to sit with me?”

“No, Prince Wu,” Mako says, pulling his arm out of the prince’s grasp. “I’ll be standing to ensure there are no security threats.”

“So serious!” Prince Wu says sarcastically. “Well, no matter. Chop-chop! We don’t want to miss the show!” 

Mako avoids speaking as much as possible during the ride to the theater. There’s something lurching inside his chest as he listens to Prince Wu speak incessantly about any topic that comes to mind during the satomobile ride to the theater. Prince Wu is… not what Mako was expecting.

Is the prince spoiled? Mako supposes so, in a manner of speaking. Prince Wu clearly has plenty of money and doesn't appear to have done a thing to earn it. 

Maybe he does throw his unearned money around, but so far, Mako has only seen him throw money to tip service workers. Mako’s been known to overpay people who provide services and, uh, services. Maybe some people would think Mako throws his money around too. And why wouldn't he? He makes enough to get by. And he knows how difficult jobs like that can be, so yeah, when someone provides him good service, he tips them well.

Colossal idiot? Doesn't seem like it. Mako guesses it's pretty stupid to wander into a kitchen where everyone is brandishing knives, but the prince appears to be friends with everyone holding a potential weapon, so…

Also, Mako gets the sense that Prince Wu is sharp and clever. He seems to be good at talking people into things, at least.

Man-child? Maybe. He whines. He seems like he wants constant attention. He has no regard for Mako’s personal space, but… If Hira’s implication is correct, maybe the prince is flirting with Mako?

No. That can't be right. It opens a whole can of beetle-worms Mako doesn't want to deal with right now. 

All of this is irrelevant, he thinks to himself as they arrive at the theater. Whether or not he agrees with the client’s opinion of the target is besides the point. He's got a job to do, damnit.

Almost as if the spirit world itself was sending Mako a sign, Mako passes a Nuktuk poster at the entrance of the theater. He only allows himself a passing glance, but it’s enough to refocus his mind to the task at hand. 

He’s got a job to do. There’s too much at stake for Mako to let anything interfere. 

Chapter Text

Mako does pay attention to the mover, for the most part. It’s a romantic comedy, and it’s not quite as terrible as he had heard. The plot is a little absurd, but that doesn’t stop Prince Wu from enjoying it. The prince laughs at several parts, (some of which are not intentionally funny) he gasps at the ‘twist’, (which Mako had guessed in the first ten minutes of the film) and he lets out a long coo at the end when the protagonists finally share the long awaited kiss (as if it were a surprise that they’d end up together).

Mako hasn’t actually been to see a mover since he snuck in to see the first Nuktuk film. It was over the top, and the propaganda aspect was thinly veiled, but in a way, it warmed Mako’s heart. The mover was just like Bolin—a little goofy, not taking itself too seriously, and full of optimism. But when all was said and done, it had left a hollow ache inside him. Mako misses his brother, he always has, since the day they separated. Bolin is clearly better off without him, but Mako can't help his feelings. All he can try to do is push them down.

“Well, what did you think, big guy?” Mako’s grateful for the low light of the theater as he starts to feel his face grow warm at Prince Wu’s apparently permanent nickname for him. 

“It was fine,” Mako says, holding his voice steady and his expression impassive.

“‘Fine’, he says! You loved it, I can tell. I heard you laughing when Miki accidentally kissed the platypus-bear.” Wu says with a sly grin.

“Because it was fake looking. Not because it was actually funny.”

“If you say so,” Wu says, unconvinced. “Popcorn?” Prince Wu holds out the carton of popcorn he purchased from the concession stand. 

Mako shakes his head no. Wu seems very intent on feeding him. Mako’s not sure what to make of it.

“Alright, suit yourself,” Wu says, tossing a few pieces into his mouth. “Anyway, I thought the agni kai at the end had some pretty fun special effects, and you know the actor who played Li—his name’s Akar—he’s actually from the Northern Water Tribe and not even a bender at all! How ‘bout you, mister mover expert? What’s your critique?”

“I already explained to you that I wasn’t critiquing anything. And it was fine. Predictable, but fine.”

“Predictable? You say that like it’s a dirty word!” Prince Wu says with a dramatic gasp. “That’s what makes it so good!”

“Why? If you already know what’s going to happen, why bother watching at all?” Mako asks with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re joking, right? Mako, Mako, Mako… Just because you can guess what’s going to happen, it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the experience.”

Mako raises an eyebrow. “If you say so,” Mako says, copying Wu’s words. Mako puts his hands behind his back and attempts to pull some professionalism back into their interactions. “Should we return to the hotel, Prince Wu?”

The prince grins widely. “Hmmm, it is dinner time, I could certainly order room service, turn in for the night. But wouldn’t it be more fun to go on an adventure?”

Mako frowns. What on earth is the prince planning? “I don’t think that’s a good idea—” Mako starts to argue, but the prince is already strolling out of the theater. Mako has to hurry to keep up. Prince Wu is shorter than Mako, but his stride seems longer and he walks so damn fast.

Prince Wu weaves through the sparse crowd and leaves the building, and Mako has no choice but to follow. He could probably physically stop the prince from leaving, but he’s not sure about that. There’s no actual danger to his person right now, and Mako’s not sure what kind of scene a spoiled man-child would make in public if his bodyguard tried to forcibly drag him back to the car.

“Prince Wu, where exactly are you going?” Mako asks, feeling a little desperate and nervous. They’re in Harmony Park, so it’s unlikely either of them will run into trouble, but the sun is setting soon and the prince doesn’t acknowledge him. He isn’t even looking back to see if Mako is following.

Finally, Mako—against his better judgment—reaches out and places a hand on the prince’s shoulder. Mako doesn't grab him, just lays his hand there, but the prince freezes in place and turns quickly, as if he’s startled. The expression on his face is perplexing—moments ago, the prince was all smiles and playfulness. But as his gaze fixes on Mako’s hand on his shoulder, Prince Wu’s smile is gone. He furrows his brow, and his eyes narrow ever-so-slightly. Like he wasn’t expecting Mako to put his hand on him. It can’t be that much of a surprise. He’s practically running away from his security detail, about to wander the streets of the city. Does the prince really not expect his bodyguard to actually look out for him?

Of course. Mako’s not here to look out for the prince. Quite the opposite. But Prince Wu doesn’t know that.

Just as quickly as it came, Prince Wu’s serious expression is gone as he whips his whole body around to face Mako. All smiles and daringness.

“What’s the matter? Big, tough guy nervous about exploring the streets of Harmony Park? C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?” Prince Wu taunts.

Mako huffs. As if Mako could ever be nervous in Harmony Park. He’s from the Dragon Flats, for fuck’s sake. Walk on the wrong side of the street there and you’ll get knifed in an alleyway. Still, shouldn’t the prince have a little more regard for his own safety, even in this part of town? 

“Really?” Mako asks the prince carefully. “I could list the worst things that could happen. You could be killed, for one thing—”

Prince Wu waves his hand dismissively. “Oh please. You wouldn’t let anyone kill me.”

Mako scowls. Technically, the prince is right. Mako certainly isn’t going to let anyone else kill him, anyway. Mako’s not the only hitman in  the city, and he definitely isn’t going to let someone else cash in on the yuans.

Prince Wu smiles smugly and, seeming satisfied when Mako is unable to argue, spins on his heel and continues on. Mako sighs, glancing back at the theater where the prince’s car is waiting, where Hira is no doubt beginning to wonder where they are. It’s not like he has a choice, though. He follows the prince closely.

A hint of anxiety starts to simmer in Mako’s gut. This is Harmony Park. It’s the safest part of the city for someone like Prince Wu. And the prince’s spontaneity might actually be protective, to a certain degree. If no one can predict his moves, it’s harder to plan an attack. So yeah, rival triads probably won’t be able to pull off a hit here and now, right?

The prince zips down the street, turns a corner, flitting through the crowds aimlessly. Mako keeps as close as he can, sort of feeling like he’s chasing Prince Wu. How is he so fucking fast? Another corner, and the prince crosses at an intersection, and they are probably three blocks away from the car by now.

Wu stops abruptly, staring at a café. Mako catches up, glancing at what’s caught the prince’s eye. It’s a smoothie shop, and Prince Wu’s eyes are wide as he glances toward Mako with a grin. “I’ve found our destination for the evening!” he announces proudly.

Mako raises an eyebrow. “Really? A smoothie café? That’s your big adventure?” he asks, unimpressed.

“Not what you were predicting, huh? Funny, I thought you liked things a little unpredictable. Make up your mind, pal!” Prince Wu pushes the double doors open and strides in, Mako following behind. “Now, what kind of smoothies do you like, Mister Predictable? Oh, let me guess, probably a blend of Fire Nation fruit and Earth Kingdom fruit… Cherries and moon peaches!”

Mako pauses. He’s never actually had a smoothie before. There’s no smoothie shops in his part of town, and fresh fruit is hard to come by. When he does buy anything fresh like that he’s certainly not taking the time to make a smoothie. But… Cherries and moon peaches. Mako is hit suddenly, very suddenly , with a memory. The kind of memory you can smell and taste.

Mom made mochi once, filled with cherries and moon peaches. It must have been a special occasion, a birthday maybe? 

Spirits, he must have been young. He can almost feel the traces of the flavor on his tongue as he thinks of it. Mom must have worked hard, planning that dessert. Moon peaches are cheap enough, even for working class families like his own had been. But cherries are expensive. Imported from the Fire Nation. Only the wealthy eat cherries regularly. It had to have been a very special treat. Mako thinks it must have been the first and only time he had tasted cherries.

“Whaddya say? Lemme buy you a cherry-moon peach smoothie?” Wu asks.

“Yeah. Okay.” Mako responds simply. He might as well. He wants to taste those flavors again. Why not let Wu buy him a smoothie?

Wu looks surprised, then elated. “You got it, buddy!”

Buddy. Pal. Big guy. Tough guy. Mako’s head is going to start spinning from all these nicknames. Prince Wu orders them smoothies and Mako almost feels like he’s been defeated, the way he conceded to the prince’s offer. But…

“Here ya go!” Wu hands him the cup as he starts sipping his own. Mako stares at it for a moment, suddenly filled with trepidation. Which is ridiculous. He let Wu buy it for him, and he wants to taste it again… But what if it isn’t as delicious as he remembers? Would that ruin the memory?

Wu stares, raising an eyebrow at Mako expectantly.

Mako, feeling the prince’s gaze, closes his lips over the straw and drinks.

Mako didn’t need to worry. The flavor is just like he remembers. It’s not exactly the same, obviously, it’s a drink and not mochi filling. But the flavors intermingling on his tongue brings back a flood of memories—

He’s standing on a wooden step stool at the kitchen counter. Mom has the rice flour dough rolled flat. There’s a bowl in front of him, filled with cherry and moon peach filling—Mom had chopped the fruit up into tiny pieces and mixed them together, cooked them over the stove with sugar and water and starch until it was thick and gooey and the fruity smell filled their whole apartment. Mako holds a spoon and expectantly waits. Mom has a round cutter, she cuts out a circle of dough, picks it up with her cornstarch-dusted hands and places it in front of Mako.

“Okay, kiddo! Go ahead, a big spoonful, right in the center!”

Mako furrows his brows, dips his spoon into the bowl, and slowly, oh so slowly, scoops a heap of filling out. Oh no—it’s too much! It drips on the counter, Mako gasps. He had heard Mom and Dad talk about how much cherries cost, and it sounded like a lot. Did he ruin it? He jerks his head toward Mom, hoping he didn’t mess up too bad. He relaxes as Mom laughs softly.

“Oh sweetie, don’t worry, we can clean it up together!” She reaches over with a clean spoon of her own and scoops a little bit of filling off of the counter. She winks at Mako and licks the filling off the tip of the spoon. “Oh it’s so good! Here! Try some!” She swipes a little more from the counter onto the spoon and holds it to Mako’s mouth. He copies her and takes an experimental taste—flavor rushes over his tongue, sweet and tart all at once. It’s delicious.

“Incoming!” Dad’s voice calls out behind them, and Mako turns just in time to see Bolin running right at him. He braces himself as Bo crashes into the stepstool and clings to Mako’s legs in a hug.

“Bo, baby, don’t knock your brother over,” Mom says as she peels him off of Mako and scoops him up. “Does the birthday boy want to try some?” Mom holds the spoon to Bo’s mouth next. Bolin doesn’t hesitate. He snatches the spoon right out of Mom’s hand and jams it in his mouth.

“Whoa! Slow down, kiddo!” Dad says with a laugh. “You’re three now! Have a little restraint!”

It’s Bolin’s third birthday. Mom’s making a special dessert to celebrate, fruit filled mochi. Mako had his fifth birthday a couple of months ago, Mom made his favorite, cinnamon spice cake. But he likes the cherry-moon peach filling too. 

Dad doesn't even grab a utensil. Just sticks his finger in the bowl and eats it right off his own fingertip. 

“San!” Mom scolds Dad. “Use a spoon!”

Dad shoots Mako an ‘oh no, now I'm in trouble’ look, somewhat undermined by his laughter. Mako laughs with him as Mom rolls her eyes. She's smiling, though, as she plants a kiss to Bolin’s temple while he practically gnaws on the spoon—

“Hey, Mako, did I lose you there?” Wu’s voice yanks Mako back to the present. He holds the flavor in his mouth, the cherries and moon peaches intermingling in a way that makes his heart ache. There's a lump in his throat. He swallows it down with the smoothie in a single gulp.

“We need to get back to the car,” Mako says as sternly as he can manage, hoping his voice doesn’t betray the embarrassing flood of emotions that had just hit him. “No more adventures tonight.”

Wu takes a big drink of his own smoothie and shrugs. “If you say so, big guy. There’s always tomorrow!”

Mako bites back a sigh. Tomorrow. Today was ridiculous enough. How many more days is he going to have to go through this before he can finish the job?

They make it back to the hotel with no further distractions. When Prince Wu flits away and turns in for the night, Mako sort of feels like he’s left reeling. He doesn’t feel like he’s got a handle on the situation at all. He’s been watching and learning all day, trying to get a read on the prince and his security situation, but instead he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. 

First things first. Mako’s going to take advantage of the hotel shower—well, after he takes care of all those pent up feelings of arousal still lingering from his first impressions of the prince. Then he’s going to go over his options that have presented themselves to him thus far. Then sleep, and when he wakes the next morning, he’ll deal with whatever shenanigans the prince decides to draw them into and try to gather more information so he can plan to do his job.

He doesn’t let himself think of Prince Wu as he brings himself to climax in the low light of the bedroom. He doesn’t really let himself think of anything, because he really isn’t interested in thinking right now. He just hopes he can get this out of his system so he doesn’t have any more indecent thoughts about his target.

His shower is luxurious and he selfishly wonders if he can use some of his one million yuans to renovate his bathroom and get a proper water heater with a better shower head. Hot water and high pressure aren’t really things he’s ever considered a priority, but damn if it doesn’t feel good.

Mako’s not sure what to do with himself as he dries his damp hair and stares at the bed. There’s a radio on the nightstand, and for a moment, Mako considers turning it on. He decides against it, though, because he doesn’t want to listen to bending matches or the news, and why would he bother listening to music?

He flops into bed on his back and exhales a large sigh. He needs to organize his thoughts, to make sense of how he’s going to accomplish this job. The prince is energetic, flighty and impulsive, which Mako could use to his advantage. However, the places they visited today were public, very public, and Wu never left his food or drink alone. There’s always going to be at least one other officer and the valet driver in close proximity. But, Prince Wu had no qualms about abandoning them for an adventure, so maybe…

Mako closes his eyes and tries not to think of the adventure Wu had dragged Mako into. He wants to banish the flavors of cherries and moon peaches that still ghost his tongue. It's no use. They're still there and he can't stop thinking about that day, about Bolin's third birthday…

“Mako! Mako!” Bolin squirms out of Mom’s grasp and she releases him onto the floor. “Play with me!” Bolin trudges over and tugs on Mako’s shirt.

“No, Bo. I’m helping Mom make your birthday mochi,” Mako says seriously. 

“You’ve been a great helper,” Mom says with a wide smile. “But you can take a break to play, if you want!”

Mako looks hesitantly at the bowl of fruit filling, then back at his brother, who is practically jumping up and down as he waits for Mako’s answer.

“Can I…” Mako hesitates, not wanting to ruin the mochi. “Can I have more filling?”

Mom chuckles. “Of course, kiddo.” She scoops up a heaping spoonful and holds it to Mako’s mouth. He opens wide and lets her spoon it in, and it’s even more delicious than the first taste. His whole mouth is teeming with flavor—sugar and tang. He’d sort of like to just eat the whole bowl with a spoon. 

“Okay, go play with your brother,” Mom says. Mako hops down from his step stool as Mom gently nudges them out of the kitchen.

Mako follows Bolin into their shared bedroom, where a mess of wooden blocks is scattered all over the floor.

“What do you wanna play?” Mako asks Bolin.

“Make a tall thing!” Bolin says excitedly. Mako nods and gets to work. Bolin likes it when Mako stacks the blocks as high as he can go. Bolin sometimes tries to stack them, but he’s clumsy with them and always knocks them over before he can get them very high. So he likes it when Mako does it; Mako can get the blocks really tall.

Mako is careful to line up each block so the tower doesn’t lean and topple. Bolin claps his hands, excited to see the blocks towering over him. Mako likes the way Bolin laughs.

Suddenly Mako’s hand slips by accident. He bumps the tower and the blocks tumble, wood clattering loudly to the ground. One hits Bolin, and his laughs are replaced by cries. Mako’s heart sinks as he sees Bo clutch the side of his head. Tears are streaming down Bolin’s face.

“What happened?” Dad’s there in an instant, he rushes in and sees Bo loudly crying on the floor, rubbing his head. “Oh, no, Bo, did you get your head bonked? C’mere.” Dad scoops Bolin up in his arms and kisses the spot on his head he had been clutching.

“Uh oh,” Mom says as she pokes her head into the room. She’s blurry, and it takes Mako a second to realize that she’s blurry because he’s crying, too. “Did you get hurt too?” she asks Mako.

“I didn’t mean to!” Mako chokes out desperately. “I didn’t mean to…”

Understanding washes over Mom’s face. “Oh, I see. Did you knock the blocks onto Bo’s head?”

“I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t!” Mako repeats himself.

“Of course not. We still say sorry when we hurt someone, though, even if we didn't mean to. Come here. We can make it right!” She picks Mako up and he melts into her arms. She carries him over to where Dad is holding Bolin. “What do we say?” she prompts him gently.

“I’m sorry,” Mako says, feeling his voice crack and his lower lip quiver. He reaches out and rubs the bump on Bolins head. Bolin sniffles a couple of times, but Dad pulls out a handkerchief and wipes Bolin's tear-streaked cheeks and runny nose.

Bo rubs his head one more time, and just as quickly as the tears start, he's happy again. He squirms out of Dad’s arms and clambers to pick up some blocks.

“Mako, make another tall thing!” Bolin says, holding up the blocks to Mako.

“OOOhhkay, boys.” Dad's voice shakes with quiet laughter. “Let’s take a break from tall things for the night. Come on, the mochi is almost ready.” Dad tugs Bolin by the hand out of the bedroom.

Mom is still holding Mako. She brings her thumb to his face and wipes away his tears. “Oh, Mako, baby. Why are you crying?”

“I didn't mean to hurt Bo, I love him,” Mako says in a small voice. 

“I know. Sometimes we make mistakes and we hurt people, even people we love. But usually we can fix it by saying sorry and doing something to help them.” Mom pulls Mako close and clutches him tight.

Mako swallows thickly, and realizes with a touch of embarrassment that tears prick the corners of his eyes. He quickly wipes all traces of them away and turns over onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow. 

Stupid. His parents have been gone for fourteen years. He can't believe something as ridiculous as cherries and moon peaches could make him ache for them so much, so suddenly. But he is, he’s aching to feel his Mom’s arms around him and to hear Dad’s laugh—

Get it together, Mako scolds himself. Shut it down. Wall it away. They’re gone, but Bolin is still alive and well. And if he’s going to make sure Bolin is safe and happy and free to live his life, he’s got a job to do.

Mako has to remember what’s at stake here. He can’t let Bolin get hurt, he just can’t.

The next few days are just as much of a whirlwind as the first. 

Prince Wu seems to have endless energy. Some of his outings are pre-planned, with Hira and other officers doing security sweeps, securing the premises (thus making it very difficult for Mako to even attempt to do his job), and some of his outings are completely on-the-fly, spontaneous adventures, as the prince likes to call them (also making it impossible for Mako to do his job because he has no way to plan an attempt and they are always very, very public).

Restaurants. Shops. The tailor. And the spa, though thank goodness that’s just for a manicure, so it doesn't take long. He goes to Bender: Never Say Bend three more times. He goes to a small jazz club and regales Mako with all the knowledge he has about the artists playing (one of them had been a pro bender, once. Lost his bending to Amon. The Avatar gave it back, but by then he’d started a band and had made a decent living).

And on a whim, Wu decides to simply leave the establishments that the police have secured, and he just… wanders. Always into a crowd, and always with a look of mischief like he’s trying to frustrate Mako.

Tonight, they’re at a charity event in the Southern Water Tribe Cultural Center. It’s a no-go for Mako to do his job, because the food and drink are served from communal trays carried by servers, and the entire event is attended by high profile people, including reporters. Mako does his best to avoid getting in the background of any photos taken.

Not that he has to worry if he accidentally ends up in the papers—it’s not like he’s ever been close to getting caught or identified on any of his prior jobs. He prides himself on his ability to blend in, fit in, and leave no one any the wiser. 

He had even been the one to call emergency services during that job at Kuem Enterprises. Not until after the target had stopped breathing, but still. It was the perfect set up, no one suspected poison because the man had been a stressed out workaholic, and Mako continued working there for a couple of weeks after so that his absence wouldn’t have been noticed and raised any questions.

So Mako’s face would raise no questions or suspicions in these high-profile environments where the rich and famous are in attendance and the reporters and paparazzi are eager to snap a front-page-worthy shot.

And hopefully that doesn’t change when he finishes this job. Natural causes. Wu is a little young to go peacefully in his sleep, but Mako has enough knowledge of his medical history to know that the prince isn’t the most medically sturdy person in the world.

And as long as Mako gets the job done, the worst case scenario—he gets caught—will still achieve what he’s been trying to do since he was eight years old. Keep Bolin safe. Still. He’d prefer to be a free man after all this is over. Maybe use the payout to do that shower renovation he keeps fantasizing about as he gets used to the luxurious shower in his ensuite.

Wu isn’t far, Mako makes sure to keep a close eye on him. But he’s found a slightly more secluded spot, near one of the less popular exhibits. One featuring the prototype of an invention from an immigrant from the southern water tribe some twenty years ago—a desalination device next to its original blueprints. Not exactly as exciting as the exhibit about the Avatar. 

The prince has seemingly cornered a well-to-do woman wearing a swanky blue and silver dress. She’s gorgeous, with her hair swept into a half-updo, glittering with gem-encrusted hairpins as dark brown curls cascading down her back. Her blue eyes sparkle as Prince Wu showers her with compliments.

“You know, the only thing more stunning than your dress is your smile,” Wu says to the woman, leaning in a bit closer. 

She giggles, her smile spreading wider. “You’re too kind, Your Highness,” she says as she tosses a stray curl over her shoulders.

“Nonsense, I’m only speaking the truth!” Prince Wu says, sounding almost scandalized. 

Mako furrows his brows. Hira had said that Wu made a show of flirting with women in public. But he still isn’t completely sure of the prince’s sexuality. After all, Mako enjoys the company of men and women. Maybe Wu is just bisexual like Mako. Or maybe he’s not queer at all. Just because a guy comes off a little flamboyant (okay, a lot flamboyant) doesn't say a thing about who he’s attracted to. Hira said Wu got a little too familiar with some of the other men assigned to guard him, but some people are just touchy feely. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

Wu barely pays any attention to Mako the whole evening. He just flits from one conversation to the next, chit-chatting with all the wealthy, important people. It’s jarring, considering how incessantly Wu had been pestering Mako during the first few days of his employment. Not that Mako is complaining. He’s not.

Mako stays silent as he resigns himself to the fact that he’s going to be invisible and ignored all evening. He shouldn’t be surprised. This is Mako's first real event  where other wealthy folks are in attendance. The future Earth King has to hobnob with the elite. Mako’s just as invisible as the rest of the help. Whatever. It’s fine. 

Later on in the evening, Wu swirls a glass of rich, red wine as he leans closer to a different woman. She’s beautiful and glamorous, has shorter hair and is wearing a more traditional Earth Kingdom style gown in forest green and gold.

“You know, the only thing more stunning than your dress is your smile,” Prince Wu says to her, repeating his earlier line verbatim.

Mako resists the urge to roll his eyes. Though, this woman is significantly less charmed by the prince than the other woman. Or maybe neither woman was charmed, and this one isn't bothering to hide it.

Mako’s not actually sure how this event is a charity. Did they sell tickets? If so, how much of the money went to the food and the staff, how much went into the pockets of the organizers, and how little actually went to the Little Water Tribe Primary School—the supposed benefactor of this event?

It all seems wasteful. Not that all the other things Wu gets up to are particularly frugal. But seeing so many wealthy people in one place, sipping wine, socializing, telling themselves they're charitable while wearing clothes worth enough money for Mako to have fed himself and his brother for a week… It's a reminder that Mako is from a different world than Prince Wu. 

Wu sips his glass of wine here and there, nibbles on the occasional appetizer, and chats with a group of older men and women from the utility commission. Mako can't hear what they're saying over the hum of the rest of the party, but Wu laughs occasionally, flashes a charming smile here and there, and at one point bows and kisses the hand of one of the older women. She seems genuinely delighted by Wu’s attention, at least.

About two hours into the event, Mako notices a brief, subtle shift in the prince’s body language. Mako can't make out what was said, but the group of commissioners erupt into a roar of laughter while Wu goes completely stiff. A frown flashes across his face, just for a moment, then it’s replaced by the fakest smile Mako has seen on Wu yet.

Wu bows with a flourish and laughs (Mako can't hear it especially well over the noise of the rest of the party, but it probably sounds just as fake as his smile looks). He abandons the commissioners and makes his way toward Mako.

“I’m exhausted,” he says to Mako without greeting him. “This event has gotten tiresome. Escort me to the satomobile, please.” He’s stilted and doesn't touch Mako or hang off of him or pull on Mako’s uniform cuffs, and he doesn't call Mako by name—not even one of his casual nicknames he seems so fond of using.

He’s also speaking loud enough for the commissioners nearby to hear. They're the ones who organized this charity event. Mako may not be from this world, but he knows enough to know that Wu just insulted all of them by calling the event tiresome.

Confused, but equally eager to leave, Mako simply nods and the two of them walk through the crowd and out the door.

It's nighttime. Hira isn't here tonight—the whole event had security provided by the police, so there was no need—but the car is parked nearby and the prince’s valet driver sits and reads the newspaper while he waits for the prince to order him home.

“Well, big guy, how about another adventure?” Wu’s voice is bright and excited again, and he presses his shoulder against Mako’s upper arm. Mako is confused for a moment.

“I thought you were exhausted,” Mako says with a raised eyebrow.

Prince Wu shrugs dismissively. “So strange, the moment I stepped outside, my energy returned to me! Come on, my big, tough guy! Let's go!” He turns and begins to walk away and Mako feels like he has whiplash from Wu’s abrupt change in demeanor.

“Stop,” Mako says, grabbing the prince by his arm. Wu flinches the moment Mako’s hand makes contact, but he composes himself and whips around. There’s a petulant pout on his lips and spirits Mako can’t believe this is a grown man who is, presumably, expecting to take the throne. “You can’t just go wandering around on a whim like this,” Mako says sternly.

“Why not? I’m not a prisoner, much as the police department would like me to be. I thought having a freelancer on my security detail meant I’d have a little more freedom with a lot less grief about it.” Wu yanks his arm out of Mako’s grasp, but doesn’t turn to leave. He folds his arms and frowns deeply at Mako.

Mako resists the urge to roll his eyes. Prisoner. Exaggerate much? Prince Wu lives in a huge hotel room with his every need attended to and he can go where he pleases, provided he gives the police and his guards notice to secure the premises. His security detail is there for his own safety. What is wrong with this man?

Of course. Mako’s not worried about the prince’s safety.

Mako composes himself. “Fine.”

Wu’s face lights up, he turns on his heel and hurries off, forcing Mako to practically chase him again. He weaves through the crowds and keeps close to Wu as he strides forward, seemingly with no destination in mind. Mako’s getting better at keeping up.

They stop at an intersection as Wu ponders which way he’s going to go next. “Say, Mako, my man. You ever been to the top of Harmony Tower?” Wu asks with an excited grin.

“No,” Mako answers simply. Sounds like the prince has discovered his ‘adventure’ for the night. Once again, very public. Also very touristy. Republic City natives don’t usually bother going to Harmony Tower. Tickets are way too expensive and there are overpriced food stands and souvenir vendors everywhere in the park at the base of the structure.

Wu seems excited though, and Mako wonders if Wu has ever been to the top of the tower either. 

It’s quite the walk toward the tower, a good thirty minutes, maybe more. Surprisingly, with a destination in mind, Wu seems to slow down. Mako doesn’t have to chase him; Wu walks at Mako’s side as he prattles on about the history of the tower.

Mako already knows all the trivia that Prince Wu is throwing around, and all of them boil down to one basic fact—it’s a radio tower. Kind of boring, if you ask Mako. It’s just a radio tower with an observation deck near the top so the owners can sell overpriced tickets and make a profit off of tourists and bored wealthy folks—like Prince Wu. But, once again, Wu has no problem throwing his money around as he pays for two tickets for the elevator ride to the top of the tower.

The tower is a little impressive up close like this; it looks much taller. The sun has set by now, and the warm yellow light from the tower casts a glow over the small, but bustling park surrounding the area. Mako is a little surprised at how busy it is even though it’s rather late. Maybe it’s because it’s a weekend, or maybe it’s always this busy. It’s not like Mako has ever visited the park before.

Wu continues to prattle on about the history of the tower, “So the metal benders worked together with technologists in an early display of cooperation following the bending supremacist movement, and—”

Mako glances at Wu and notices how the warm yellow light of the tower reflects in Wu’s eyes. Gold and green. 

Wu pauses. “You seem extra serious, big guy. Yuan for your thoughts?”

Wu is doing that thing again, tugging on Mako’s sleeve cuff and staring at him with wide, pleading eyes. And it’s not fair because Wu has been doing that all week except at that party and now he’s doing it again and—

“Hellooooo! Mako, Mako, do you read me, over!” Wu says, getting uncomfortably close to Mako’s face.

Mako averts his eyes and reaches for something to say.

“I was just wondering if you really couldn’t be bothered to come up with different pick-up lines for all those women you hit on this evening,” Mako blurts out before he can stop himself. Oops. That was probably unprofessional and uncalled for.

Wu doesn't seem fazed, though he does avert his eyes as he fiddles with his own shirt cuffs, smoothing out invisible wrinkles and brushing away imaginary dust.

“No, why should I?” Wu says, looking up as the elevator descends. “It’s not like it matters.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Wu says in a careful, measured voice. “If I marry a woman one day, it won’t actually mean anything. It’ll be a political match.” Wu shrugs as the elevator comes to a stop in front of them and its doors slide open. Wu steps into the elevator, handing their tickets to the attendant inside. Mako steps close behind and eyes Wu cautiously.

Wu is silent as the elevator rises; he’s staring out the glass window as the city below stretches out further and further the higher they go. Mako ruminates on that a little. If Wu were to become King and technically had absolute power, then in theory he could marry whomever he wanted. But Mako guesses that’s not how things work in that world… Treacherous webs of rivalries and alliances held in balance by family loyalties and bribes and thinly veiled threats of violence—actually, Wu’s world is a little more like Mako’s world than he initially thought. 

Wu would probably need to marry the ‘right’ woman to ensure stability, or else… Well. It doesn’t matter. Not if Mako does what he needs to do.

The elevator comes to a stop and the attendant opens the doors. Wu tips him (because of course he does) and strolls out onto the observation deck. He leans his arms onto the railing, looking down over the Harmony Park district of the city. It’s bright and bustling with nightlife—this is the part of town where no one fears going out after dark. Where panhandling is illegal; where anyone who doesn’t look like they ‘belong’ are, at best, escorted away, and at worst, arrested; where the residents have amassed plenty of wealth and have no need to resort to violence or property crime to get by.

Mako doesn’t find it that interesting to look at. He’s also disappointed to see that a safety cage lines the viewing platform. Not that he thinks he could get away with pushing the prince over the edge, but it’s not even an option. 

“What’s the matter, big guy? Don’t you like the view?” Wu looks over his shoulder. “Or—wait. You’re not afraid of heights, are you, tough guy?” 

Mako almost rolls his eyes. Wu’s got that sparkle in his eye, the one he had when he managed to goad Mako into defending Fire Nation food as being the spiciest. Mako doesn’t grace Wu’s taunts with a response. He simply walks to the platform railing and looks over the city.

“A whole new perspective!” Wu says as he peers over. “Sure is pretty.”

“Sure. Harmony Park is, anyway.” Mako turns his head to the side, toward the southern parts of the city. The darker, dingier parts. The Dragon Flats and the Green Meadows are far off, distant from Harmony Park, all the way on the other side of an inlet, such that the elite don’t have to worry about incidentally traveling through those parts of town. They can stay in their fancy, happy little bubble over here in Harmony Park, go to work in their offices downtown or central, and pretend like half city doesn’t live in poverty—

“Where are you from?” Wu asks, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

“I was born in the Green Meadows,” Mako answers honestly. That was a lifetime ago, but it’s true. Mako had been born to working class immigrants, making just enough to get by. And a little extra, to indulge in the rare luxury.

Like cherries.

Wu is quiet, studying Mako’s face. It’s windy up here, high above the city. Wu’s hair is blown astray, some of his curls poking out from the force of the wind. 

“Well,” Wu says, and his speech is slow and measured. “Looks like you’ve moved up. You’re certainly making a lot of money from this job.”

Wu turns around and strolls to the opposite side of the observation deck, looking down on the central district, where city hall can be seen wrapped in spirit vines. Mako doesn’t stray far, but he doesn’t stand at the railing. He’s not interested in looking at the city anymore.

Wu’s silence is a little unnerving, but Mako attributes it to whatever must have prompted Wu to leave the party and insult its organizers. He’s almost curious enough to ask what that was about. Almost.

“Say, sport, I’ve been dying for another smoothie from that shop we found!” Wu says suddenly, his voice upbeat again. “How’s about we go find it again? You can try another blend, you seemed very unhappy with the cherry-moon peach.”

“No, I liked it,” Mako says, hoping his voice doesn’t betray the emotions threatening to claw back up his throat.

Wu beams at him. “Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Great. Another ‘adventure’.

At the base of the tower, Wu is eagerly striding through the park, in the direction of the smoothie café they had stumbled upon a few days ago. As he reaches the edge of the park, he abruptly takes a turn—taking the scenic route, it seems.

“Prince Wu, what are you doing?” Mako says with a sigh.

“Paying my dues,” Wu says casually.

“What does that even mean—” Mako says, cutting himself off as Wu's heads toward the edge of the park, still in view of the other park-goers, but it seems like everyone is avoiding this particular area. Mako quickly sees why. There’s someone sitting against a street lamp; it looks like an old woman, hunched over and bundled up in a ratty purple cloak and a big green scarf. In front of her sits a glass jar with some change and a few bills tucked inside. Mako catches up to Wu and, once again, is struck by how impulsive the prince can be. 

“Shhhh,” Wu suddenly puts his finger against Mako’s lips in a shushing motion. “Don’t want to draw attention and get cursed by Old Dampa, do you?”

Mako almost laughs at him. “You’re joking right now, I hope,” Mako says, though he does keep his voice low. “Old Dampa is a scam.”

Wu waves his hand dismissively. “You can think that if you want, but I’m not taking my chances on getting cursed by an energybending witch!”

Wu approaches ‘Old Dampa’, and with a flourish and a bow, tucks a wad of bills into the jar. “Ma’am, please accept my humble offering. You’ll find six hundred yuans there. Easily divided by three, you see!”

The old beggar nods, and Wu gives a final bow before hurrying back to Mako’s side.

“That’s a lot of money to throw at a panhandler,” Mako observes.

“You say panhandler, or scam, but I say entrepreneur!” Wu says brightly. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mako asks skeptically. “And what was that about dividing by three?”

“Alright, fine. Old Dampa isn’t an energybending witch who curses anyone that doesn’t pay their dues…” Wu says despondently. “It’s just three street kids who take turns wearing the outfit. The other two are around here somewhere, they keep watch and distract any police that might arrest whoever’s wearing the costume. They have sticky fingers, too, so watch your wallet. But c’mon, that’s not nearly as fun or interesting as ‘energybending witch’!”

“How do you know it’s three kids?” Mako asks, incredulous. Most people who panhandle don’t bother to come to this part of town because you’re way more likely to get arrested. But the rumors of ‘Old Dampa’ are known in every corner of Republic City. Obviously ‘witch’ and ‘energybender’ are fairy tales, and most people don’t believe it. But it sure makes for a good story. This is the first time Mako’s heard it’s just street kids, though.

“Give me a little credit, big guy! I’m more observant than you’d think! Now come on, smoothie adventure, round two!”

Mako isn’t chasing Wu anymore. Wu grabs Mako’s arm and drags him through the city, amidst the crowds, under streetlights and past countless shops and restaurants. Mako, despite everything, looks forward to the flavor of cherries and moon peaches. It’s late, but they get there before close. Wu makes sure to tip the worker well, apologizing for ordering so late. 

“Wu?” Mako asks as they leave the café, realizing a moment too late that he’d dropped Wu's title when addressing him. How did that happen?

"What's up, big guy?" Wu says after he takes a slurp of his smoothie. His eyes are wide and curious, and Mako feels a little stupid for suddenly acting so casual with Wu. It's difficult, though, when the prince has almost no regard for formality or professionalism with Mako. All the nicknames and the teasing and the spirts-forsaken touching...

Mako stares at his straw, suddenly forgetting why he said Wu's name in the first place. He reaches for something to say again, to cover up the fact that he's suddenly thinking about the way Wu touches him... “Why did you hurry out of that charity event?” he ends up asking.

“I told you, buddy. I was tired.”

“And then you weren’t.”

Wu shrugs. “Guess those stodgy old commissioners were sapping my energy away! Maybe they’re the energybenders, huh?”

It’s a deflection and a non-answer. Mako supposes it doesn’t matter. Mako needs to stop getting so involved, he’s not even sure what prompted him to ask in the first place. 

Cherries and moon peaches dance across his tongue as he takes a sip of his smoothie—this time, he manages to control the flood of memories and emotions that seem to come along with it. He does let one image creep its way to the forefront. Little Bolin. Crying. Hurt. A reminder of what’s at stake. Why he’s here. What he has to do. 

But Mako’s distracted, suddenly. He feels something hot spreading through his chest as he looks at Wu. Wu’s looking off into the distance, and there’s something sad washing over Wu’s face. Like he’s... suffering.

“Where to next?” Mako asks. He should probably coax Wu back to the hotel, but maybe they could both use a distraction. Wu lights up and lists several late-night establishments they could visit. Mako isn’t particularly interested in any of them, but Wu looks happier, at least. 

Just because Wu isn’t going to be around much longer, doesn’t mean that Mako has to ruin any of Wu’s fun.

Mako’s not interested in making Wu suffer.

Chapter Text

It's been three weeks since he first walked into the four elements hotel, since he was left reeling by the energetic and sometimes reckless prince. Three weeks of spas and shops and fine dining and movers and clubs and parties. Three weeks of Mako looking for opportunities to get the job done, but to no avail. 

Mako is getting a handle on things. Barely, but he’s getting there.

Each location Wu visits takes Mako into the unfamiliar world of the upper class. Other wealthy patrons of the various establishments act as though they’re better than anyone else.They have their noses in the air and pretend Mako and the help don’t exist. Everything feels like a facade, like every person is wearing a mask, like every word spoken has hidden meaning. Everything shines and glitters—the gemstones all the wealthy women wear, the gilded floors, the vases and sculptures and chandeliers—but it all feels hollow. 

Wu flits around as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He smiles and laughs and flirts with every woman in sight… But the way Wu acts around all the women he hits on feels just as empty as every other part of this world. It’s almost maddening to watch. Why does Wu even bother? Half the women find his attempts at wooing them to be offensive, while the other half are simply dazzled by his title (and, presumably, his wealth).

And, frustratingly, the public spaces, police protection, and Wu’s surprisingly attentive approach to his food and drink—he never leaves his food or drink unattended—all seem to be working against Mako and the job he’s meant to do.

But Mako can work around this. He’s got a couple of plans in the works.

He’s always on the lookout for an opportunity to use the poisons. That’s still the preferred plan. At some point, Wu has to abandon his food or drink. The prince can’t stay vigilant forever.

But, just in case, Mako has a couple other options he can fall back on.

He’s considering tampering with Wu’s satomobile—but Mako really, really, wants to avoid that because it would also involve the death of Wu’s valet, or innocent bystanders, or himself. He’s rigged a bomb before, but it was on a boat, not a satomobile. He’d used remote detonator with just enough of a range that Mako could set it off without risk of personal injury, but the target—a cheating husband whose wife caught him and wanted to make him pay—had been alone in his motor-powered racing skiff, out in the bay, far enough that there was no collateral damage. (Except, possibly, the fish below.)

A satomobile in a parking garage is a different matter entirely. Mako can stomach the jobs he’s given, he can take out a target. But bystanders? Spirits. Mako doesn’t want that on his already ruined conscience. Not to mention the spectacle.

Mako’s not ruling it out entirely, just putting it on the back burner as a last resort.

Fire and electrocution are risky, because it’s very likely someone will intervene if they aren’t completely alone. It’s not a quiet way to finish someone off. It’d be a bright, loud display, and would risk being caught or or found out—Mako’s a firebender, if he doesn't protect Wu from any ‘accidental’ fire or electricity, it’s going to raise some questions.

There are several other things he could do if he could get Wu alone in his hotel suite. Strangulation, suffocation, drowning, and so on. They’d all leave behind evidence and he'd risk getting caught. But at least he could get it done quietly and without anyone seeing or intervening.

So that begs the question, how to get Wu alone? He’s let Mako into the suite a handful of times, but Hira or another officer is always just outside the door. How to get his other guard dismissed? 

Surely he couldn't seduce the prince. That's crazy. Mako has never had to resort to that before. Plus, in spite of Hira’s barely concealed disdain for Wu swinging the other way, Mako doesn’t actually know Wu is interested in men. Not for sure, anyway. 

Besides, even if Wu would be interested, it might open a can of beetle-worms Mako isn’t eager to explore. Namely, the fact that he’s worked very hard to suppress the attraction he feels toward Wu. It feels like it’s always simmering just under the surface. If he were to act on that attraction? Mako’s not sure he wants to cross that line. It sends his heart racing to even think about it—imagining Wu’s skin under his hands, the shuddering and soft sounds of pleasure he might let out, the taste of Wu’s mouth, the smoldering look in Wu’s eyes… Only for Mako to wrap his hands around Wu’s neck, cutting off his airway until—

Mako can’t even play out the thought to completion. Intermingling pleasure and business is never a good idea. Mako can only compartmentalize so much.  

No no no. No need to introduce sex into the equation. He just has to gain the prince’s trust. Just has to get him to be alone with him and no other guards. Lure him somewhere private when he wants to go on an adventure or get rid of his other guards at the suite. 

That's his best bet. Gaining Wu’s trust. Which shouldn’t actually be that hard, all things considered. Wu seems to trust him well enough already. He already treats Mako more like a friend than an employee.

And, Mako reminds himself, getting caught may not be ideal. But this isn’t about Mako. As long as he can ensure Bolin’s safety, he can deal with any consequences that might lie at the other side.

Mako figures another couple of weeks and an opportunity will almost certainly present itself.

Mako showers, mentally preparing himself for the day. There’s a charity auction on today’s agenda, but who knows what will happen by the end of the night. Wu might decide to skip the auction entirely and explore the streets until they find a ritzy speakeasy. Or he might make a splash by bidding extravagantly on a number of times, spending an excessive amount of money in the name of ‘charity’ (though, Mako  guesses the money won’t actually make a real difference in the lives of the needy). He might drag Mako around, showing him every piece up for auction and talking his ear off about them, or he might ignore Mako entirely as he schmoozes with all the rich, important people. 

Mako steps out of the shower in a billow of steam, closing his eyes for just a moment as the cool air hits his skin. He stands at the mirror in the ensuite, looking at his fogged silhouette of his reflection. He reaches out and swipes his hand across the mirror, leaving a dragging handprint in the moisture that clings to the surface.  

His hair is wet and matted to his forehead, and water drips down his bare chest. Mako leans forward, firmly planting his hands on the counter, and idly examines his own skin—he runs his fingers over the scar on his shoulder. He can almost make out the vague shape of the handprint that put it there.

Zolt had taken a special interest in Mako early on when Mako had started running numbers. When he’d learned Mako could firebend, Zolt had sent Ping to test him—if Mako could hold his own against Ping, then maybe he had some latent talent. Mako had just been a kid, but his inner fire was always ready to roar to life—when it meant protecting Bolin. All Ping had to do was look at Bolin funny, and Mako had taken him down in no time.

Zolt’s a firebender of a higher caliber, though. Mako's first lesson, he’d tried the same technique that knocked Ping down. The biggest, hottest burst of flame he could conjure. Zolt snuffed it out easily, and hit Mako, hard, with a tight, targeted flame. Too hot and too hard for Mako’s innate bending protection from fire to prevent the agonizing burn that Zolt had pressed across his shoulder. 

He would never forget, though, what Zolt had said after that, as Mako clutched himself in agony and tried to swallow back the tears of pain. Zolt had casually walked over, crouched down, and cast a dark smirk at Mako. 

“Up. We’re gonna do it again.”

“No, no… I can't, it—hurts, I can't—”

“You can, and you will. Or your brother’s next.”

Zolt had been right. When Bolin’s safety had been on the line, Mako had found a way to push through the pain, stand up, and fight back. Mako had been a quick learner. Even though he had never been able to get the best of Zolt or beat him, Mako had figured out how to hold his own. And he hasn't gotten burned since that day.

Mako has several other scars—nothing dramatic, but he’s been in enough matches in the fighting rings under the Triple Threat’s warehouse to have a few permanent mementos. Lacerations from ice, abrasions from hunks of rock scraping away his skin. But for every scar he had earned, he’d fought back and did twice as much damage or more. 

None of the waterbenders in the Triple Threats dabble in healing, and Mako doesn't like to waste the free clinic’s time if it's just superficial wounds. So the wounds healed naturally and scarred over, and he supposes every scar is a necessary reminder of what he really is—a fighter, a weapon, a killer.

His eyes trail over to the vials he had placed carefully on the counter. Mako’s instincts may have been forged in the fires of violence, but he had also been a quick learner when it came to the more distant, calculating methods of taking care of targets. With several discrete lessons from various herbalists and connections to a few opium dealers in the city, Mako had learned how to get ahold of the substances that are more readily available, and distill the ones that aren't. 

He keeps the bottles of poison in his inner chest pocket. He’s not worried about getting caught with them, because they're small and unlabeled. He makes sure he has them at all times, so he can discreetly add them to Wu's food or drink when the opportunity presents itself. He’ll find a time to use them, he's certain.

And if he doesn’t, well, he’ll resort to a riskier method. High risk, high reward. 

Bolin's safety. Not to mention one million yuans. Spirits, he still can’t wrap his head around that much money. The biggest payout he has ever received was that job at Kuem Enterprises. Even then, his share was only eighty thousand yuans. 

Not enough to live off of for more than a few months, though it was enough that he had actually been able to send some money Bolin’s way. 

Bolin had been, ostensibly, better off than Mako—Which was all Mako ever wanted for his brother. Mako had slept in the Triple Threat’s warehouse. It had been a while before he could afford a place of his own—Zolt paid him for jobs, but those first few hits were small-time, and Zolt baked in lots of ‘fees’. He eventually managed to secure a run-down apartment deep in the heart of the Dragon Flats, but it was in the most crime-addled block around.

Meanwhile, Toza had kept a roof over Bolin’s head, food on the table, clothes on his back, and had trained him to start pro-bending. Bolin had been safe, healthy, and most importantly, far far away from the Triads. Far far away from the the violence, from the crime, and from the death that came with the Triads. He’d been far, far away from Mako. And Mako's knew that was for the best.

And though Toza had taken Bolin in, it’s not like he had adopted Bo or anything. Toza's generosity could only stretch so far. So Mako had to send money Bolin's way if he wanted Bolin to have more than just barely enough to survive. Every yuan Mako has ever made felt tainted, like he’d be giving Bolin money soaked in blood—but he hadn't had much of a choice back then. No more choice than he has now.

Sometimes he does wonder. What would have happened if he’d tried to get out with Bolin, if he’d taken old Toza up on the offer…

Bolin cheers for Toza, his excitement ringing out loudly over the roar of noise from the stands. Toza knocks all three opponents into the drink, and the crowds of spectators give off mixed reactions—gasps and hollering and whooping. But Mako knows he needs to get Bolin out of here, far from the stands, from the arena, far from Mako’s bosses. Zolt and Shin are gonna be furious that Toza didn't throw the match, and if they find out Bolin had been talking to Toza, that Bolin had somehow convinced the old pro-bender not to throw the match like the Triple Threats had tried to force him to do… 

Mako isn’t sure how he’s going to get them out of this safely, but he grabs Bolin by the arm and yanks him out of the private box and into the hall outside the arena stands. Pabu squeaks in protest as he clings to Bolin’s shoulder, holding on for dear life as Mako pulls Bolin as fast as he can.

“He listened to me, Mako! I told him not to throw the fight and he listened!” Bolin’s excited voice rings through the hall far too loudly. Bolin is completely oblivious to the danger of announcing that so loudly. 

“You did what?!” Shin emerges from the private box, his face twisted up in anger.

Mako stands in front of Bolin, his heart pounding as Shin inches closer. Shin’s body is aggressive, though he’s not quite in a bending stance yet. Bolin clutches the back of Mako’s shirt and Mako can feel the trembling in Bo’s fingers as he realizes his mistake. 

The hallway feels like it stretches on forever behind them, and Mako’s chest tightens as he tries to map a quick escape. The halls are empty so they can't hide out in the crowd, and if they turn their backs and run for it, Shin will have a clear shot at them from behind.

Run, or stand his ground? What's going to protect Bolin?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that so loud…” Bolin’s voice is small and frightened behind Mako. Mako’s heart aches. Bolin just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could he? Of course not. Not Bolin, he’s too optimistic, he’s too kind, he’s too honest…

Mako had tried, he’d really tried. He wanted to protect Bolin from this life, but as soon as Bolin turned thirteen, Zolt said that enough was enough—that Bolin’s old enough to work the numbers game. And Mako’s not stupid, he knows that’s just the start. They’ll start out with making Bo run betting slips and cash, but it's only a matter of time before it escalates. Soon enough, he’ll get pulled into the drug ring, or the protection rounds, or they’ll have him doing burglaries or robberies. 

Mako hates it, hates that Bolin is getting pulled into this, hates that he’s got to choose between keeping Bolin alive, fed, safe; or letting him keep his idealism, his innocence, his happiness.

“Shin, back off,” Mako says with a warning. He and Shin have never liked each other, and Mako had always figured he’d have to fight him sooner or later. He had just hoped it was in one of the illegal fights under the warehouse, not here in the pro-bending stands.

“Your little shit of a brother cost us thousands of yuans, do you understand? Zolt’s gonna let the sparks fly.” Shin’s barely containing his rage, Mako can tell. Mako is ready, expecting Shin to throw water or ice his way at any minute.

“Toza’s the one who threw the fight. Maybe you should have given him a bigger bribe, clearly you didn’t give him enough if a kid could talk him into fighting fair!” Mako argues. He controls his breathing, pulls his chi just to his fingertips, ready to blast Shin if he attacks. 

“You two are more trouble than you’re worth! Your brother’s a mosquito-leech, it’s bad enough that you expect him to get the Triple Threat’s protection without working for it. But undermining our work?” Shin bends some water out of a canteen he keeps on his belt, but he doesn't attack yet.

Mako acts on instinct alone. Shin hesitating is the window he needs to throw fire, turn tail with Bo, and run.

They run as fast as they can, Mako throwing fire while Bolin trips Shin with a well timed stomp, bending a slab of the ground up in front of Shin’s feet. They slow him down, but Mako hears more voices coming from down the hall. Shin’s going to have backup.

Barely thinking, Mako pulls them into the nearest door and slams it shut behind them. He and Bolin both put their weight on it, holding it shut. He feels the door lurch behind him as ice shatters on the other side. Another hit, and they fall to the floor as Shin manages to swing the door wide open.

Mushi and Tokuga rush up behind Shin, giving him backup. Mako scrambles up to his feet into a fighting stance. He inhales slowly, getting control of his breath, just like Zolt taught him. Mako brings heat to his palms, ready to ignite. He feels Bolin ground himself, the stone floor trembling almost imperceptibly the moment Bolin’s chi connects to it. Pabu perches on Bolin’s shoulder and lets out a screech, bearing his tiny, sharp teeth in an attempt to intimidate their foes.

Shin lobs ice their way. Mako manages to keep a cool head as he throws fire to stop it. He’s focused and in control, but he’d have to put some distance between himself and the others if he wants to really bring the heat. He could do it, he realizes. They’re in the training gym, where the pro-benders practice between matches. There’s enough space here for Mako to really blast them with his bending. But he’d have to put distance between himself and Bolin, too.

Mako feels a swell of pride as he notices how fiercely Bolin holds his own against Mushi. Bolin’s earthbending is incredible—it always has been. Mako’s never seen an earthbender so light on their feet, but Bolin has the coordination to bend the earth within a split second of grounding himself. Mushi can’t compete with that, he’s too dug in and moves too slowly. Bolin can see his attacks and react faster than Mushi can even consider moving and adapting.

Unfortunately Tokuga is here too and if he gets within melee distance, it's over. He’ll chi block them and they'll be at the mercy of the Triple Threats.

Before Tokuga can somersault toward them, a fissure opens under his foot and he loses balance, falling in. It takes Mako a moment to process the fact that Bolin isn’t the one who bent the earth beneath Tokuga’s feet.

It’s Toza.

Toza positions himself in front of Mako and Bolin. Mako can hardly believe it. He’s fighting for Mako and Bolin.

No, not for both of them. For Bolin. Bolin's the one who apparently talked him into winning the match, because of course Bo could inspire someone like Toza, jaded and defeated, into standing up and fighting back. Bolin brought out the best in Toza.

Bolin always brings out the best in people.

Mako averts his eyes from his reflection as the foggy mirror becomes clearer and clearer. There’s something hollow inside him when he thinks of that day, the day he’d had to say goodbye. It had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, leaving Bolin with Toza. But he’d had to do it. It’d been the only way to keep Bolin safe and keep him out of the Triad life.

Mako sucks in a shaky breath and banishes thoughts of his brother. This job—and its uncomfortably close proximity to Bolin—has brought up too many memories, too many feelings, too much pain. Mako knows how to get rid of these stupid emotions. He’s got to finish the job. Get it over with. Then he can go back to the way things were, but with a safety net in the form of a million yuans.

Mako gathers the vials and exits the bathroom. He gets dressed and prepares for another whirlwind of a day with his flighty, impulsive, and frustratingly elusive target.

Wu casually peruses the items on display at the Stoneriver Auction House. Wu had talked Mako’s ear off the whole car ride here, going on and on about the history of the building—it was a theater, but it’s been bought and renovated for auctions. Despite the fact that the whole building had been updated, it has an old-world feel. The wooden walls, the lighting, the seating—it's all new but made to look antique. Fitting the focus of the auctions, it would seem. The Stoneriver specializes in antiques and artifacts.

Mako sees artifacts from the ancient air temples… He doesn’t know that much about air nation, but he wonders how such items can legally be sold. Wasn’t all that shit supposed to be returned to the airbenders? He doesn’t dare say a thing, though. He just stands nearby while Wu meanders about, weaving around the pedestals where the objects are carefully arranged in glass cases.

Wu doesn’t really seem interested in anything in particular, and he’s surprisingly quiet as he reads the display with the history of each item. There’s an ancient air nomad kite, apparently authenticated by a high ranking air acolyte, scrolls depicting waterbending forms, various pieces of jewelry said to have been worn by the Fire Nation royal family from before Sozin’s reign, and a dozen other pieces Mako can’t get a good look at.

Wu hovers for a long time at one specific item that seems to have caught his eye. It’s a stone carving, with incredible detail. It’s on a slab of stone, propped up to put it on full display. It's a couple of feet tall and wide, and the edges are jagged, like it had been torn from a rock wall the way one would tear a page from a book.

Mako doesn’t know much about artifacts or art, but even at a glance, Mako can see the signs that this is truly a carving, and not something created by earthbending—the tiny imperfections are clearly the marks of a chisel. It’s detailed and elaborate, with badgermoles and a village and a mountain range. Atop the mountains sit two figures under trees, separated by a valley. Though the slab itself is flat and there’s not much physical depth to the piece, the artist had a real eye for perspective—Mako sort of feels like he’s looking at a three dimensional sculpture.

It's sort of… melancholy, the way the figures are hunched over, looking across a chasm at one another.

There’s a sign describing the artifact, but Mako can’t get a look; Wu hovers in front of it, blocking Mako’s view of the writing. 

There must be two hundred people here tonight. Mako thinks this auction is for charity, but again, he’s a little unclear how anyone is actually benefiting, except for the rich people who get to pat themselves on the back for buying overpriced items. Maybe if they tell themselves their money is going to the needy, they can sleep better at night.

Mako’s thrown some of his money to the needy. The free clinic in the Flats serves anyone, regardless of their ability to pay. Mako sometimes gives a little to them, here and there. The healers there have patched him up from time to time, and he always pays for their services. But sometimes, when he finishes a particularly big job, he’ll find himself tucking a wad of bills into their donation bin. He’s not sure why. Maybe he’s trying to soothe his troubled conscience.

It’s never helped him sleep at night, though.

“Prince Wu!” A woman’s voice rings out over the crowd. Mako’s head jerks in the direction of the sound. There’s a young woman smiling from the side of the stage, near the entrance to the back room. Mako couldn’t guess her heritage if he tried. A mix of all three nations, he guesses. Warm, bronze-tinged skin contrasts against her rich black hair, and her eyes are a dark gray. The tassels at the hem of her ritzy golden dress sway as she waves at Wu excitedly.. 

Wu smiles widely—a real smile. (When did Mako learn which of Wu’s smiles are real and which are fake?) “Yang! It's so good to see you!” He glides over toward her, and embraces her in a friendly hug. 

She fiddles with the lapel of his forest green jacket as she pulls away. She glances at Mako for a moment, then back to Wu. “Who's the new suit?” she asks with a wry grin.

“This is my new bodyguard, Mako!” Wu waves his hand in a flourish. “Freelance hire, not police. Don't you dare call him ‘Officer’, he hates that.” Wu says to her, acting like Mako isn’t standing right here.

Mako bites back a huff. He’s gotten used to all these wealthy people pretending he doesn't exist, but he doesn't appreciate being talked about like he’s not in the room.

“Well, aren't you easy on the eyes, huh?” Yang says to Mako, and then she winks and he’s changed his mind. They can go back to pretending he isn't standing there.

“Hey, you have a boyfriend,” Wu says with a playful swat to her arm. “Don't be so greedy!”

Yang throws her head back and laughs in delight. “Oh, don’t mind me, just teasing!” She turns to Mako and bows slightly in greeting. “Nice to meet you Mako!” she adds, much more politely.

“Mako, this is Yang, she sings at a few of the clubs in town.” Mako nods quietly as Wu continues speaking to her. “Haven't seen you perform at your usual joints in the last few weeks, though!”

“Been busy helping my man get ready for this auction! He’s been working so hard, I've been trying to lighten the workload a little! Speaking of, got your eye on anything? I can give you an idea of the interest in the item, if you’d like.” She gives him a conspiratorial wink.

“Now that you mention it, that carving of Oma and Shu has really caught my eye!” Wu says, gesturing toward the stone slab he’d been staring at earlier.

“Really? I never knew you were a romantic,” Yang says with a smile. “Oma and Shu, huh? I haven't gotten much interest in that one, but that might be because…”

“Oh, I know. The implications.” Wu says, and Mako has no idea what implications Wu is talking about, but Yang nods in agreement.

A man’s voice rings out from the back room behind her as he approaches. “Hey, Yang, sugar, can you—oh, hello, Your Highness—” The man stops when he sees Mako.

Shit.  

Mako recognizes the man. Fuck, what’s his name? Juro? Jino?

“Jiro! What an incredible collection you have for this evening’s auction, I’m truly impressed!” Wu says happily. Jiro, that’s right. Damnit. Wu, fortunately, doesn’t seem to notice the recognition on Jiro’s face as he glances at Mako.

“Thank you, your highness! Uh, Yang, dollface, can you check in with the auctioneer? Make sure he’s got the lineup correct?”

“Sure thing, turtle-duck!” Yang says with a smile before giving Jiro a peck on the cheek. If Mako wasn’t mentally planning an explanation for his current ‘job’ to Jiro, he’d be fighting back the urge to gag at their nicknames.

Mako doesn't actually know Jiro that well. But he’s from the Dragon Flats and he definitely was on the other side of some turf wars when Mako was a kid. Mako can’t remember, was he with the Terras? Maybe the Creeping Crystals? It’s been years, but Mako is pretty sure it’s one of them. Fuck. Does he have any clue what Mako does these days? Wu seems pretty friendly with his girlfriend, what if he tells her, and she warns Wu—

“Come on, big guy. I wanna snag a good seat. You gonna sit by me?” Wu asks after Yang and Jiro disappear into the back room. So, Wu wants Mako to sit with him. Mako guesses this event isn’t important enough for Wu to ignore him.

“No, Prince Wu,” Mako says professionally. “I’ll be right over there.” Mako points to a spot at the perimeter of the room, where he’ll have an excellent vantage point of the venue to keep an eye out for potential threats.

Wu pouts, which Mako has gotten used to. What he hasn’t gotten used to is the way he almost backs down at the sight of Wu pouting. Spirits. 

Wu takes his seat and shortly after, Yang emerges from the back room and sits next to him. She’s leaning in and they talk and whisper and share the occasional laugh. Mako’s heart pounds, worried that his cover’s blown. 

When the bidding begins, Mako feels a presence next to him. He sees Jiro from the corner of his eyes. Jiro stands tall, but Mako can feel the nervous energy vibrating off of him. His formal gray and green suit gives off an air of affluence, but Mako knows for certain that this man doesn’t come from an affluent background.

“Hey, uh… Mako, right?” Jiro says. There’s an undertone of anxiety in his voice.

“Yes,” Mako says, trying not to let his own anxiety bleed through. 

“Right. Yeah. Uh, anyway, I thought you looked a little familiar. We’re uh… both a long way from the Flats, huh?” He laughs nervously. 

“We are,” Mako says carefully. “Did you need something?” Mako takes his eyes off Wu for just a moment to look at Jiro in his jade-colored eyes. Mako doesn’t detect any malice or accusation. Jiro simply seems nervous— very nervous.

“Yeah, I just wanted to say… I remember you from some uh… territory disputes, between Zolt and Jargala. I just wanna say uh, well, I been outta that life for a while now. And uh… No hard feelings, right?” Jiro blinks and swallows.

Jargala, that's right. Jiro worked for the Creeping Crystals. Mako has definitely had some run-ins with them, back when he was mostly on the protection racket. Jargala had tried to force her way into Triple Threat territory by sending her own muscle to squeeze protection fees out of the residents. 

“No, of course not. It was a long time ago.” Mako returns his focus to Wu, watching carefully as he and Yang continue chatting. Wu’s not making any bids; the carving of Oma and Shu isn’t up yet. 

“Okay, good, uh… Thanks… It’s just that… Well, Yang’s my girl, ya know? And spirits, I love her. But she sort of… doesn’t know. Where I came from, what I used to do… How I got the seed money to get this auction house up and running…”

Oh, Mako realizes. Jiro’s not nervous because he knows who Mako is and what he does these days… He just doesn’t want Mako to spill his secrets to his girlfriend.

“Say no more,” Mako says as reassuringly as possible. “My lips are sealed.”

Jiro is visibly relieved. “Look at us, huh? Really moved up. It's not easy to get out, you know. But I see how making the uh, ‘protection rounds’ would be a good foundation for security detail work. Someone will think twice before messing with the prince, what with you hanging around!”

Mako could breathe a sigh of relief. Jiro’s been out for long enough that he doesn’t know what Mako’s current profession entails. Granted, the Creeping Crystals are small-time, compared to the Triple Threats. They’re barely in the game. Jiro probably wouldn’t have known much about Mako’s real job even if he was still with the Creeping Crystals.

“I’m gonna tell her eventually. I don’t want you to think I’m like… Lying to her… It’s just… not yet, you know?” Jiro says nervously.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Mako says. “Discretion is part of the job. It’s none of my business anyway.”

“Right… Hey uh…” Jiro makes eye contact with Yang, who smiles broadly and blows him a kiss. Prince Wu is looking this way too, and he’s got a sort of wistful look on his face. “Look out for him, that Prince. he’s always been real good to Yang. She’s trying to break into a singing career, and royalty at her shows really helps boost her image, you know? Plus he’s always boosting her self esteem, throwing around compliments and whatnot…”

“You're not worried about another man throwing around compliments at ‘your girl'?” Mako asks skeptically.

Jiro barks out a surprised laugh. “Uh, no. Not him, anyway. He’s not, uh… nevermind.”

Mako can guess what he means. Not straight. Not interested in women. Mako wonders if Jiro knows that for certain or if he’s making assumptions like everyone else in Wu’s life. Mako raises an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you mean.” he says flatly.

Jiro blinks and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Right… Uh. Anyway, I gotta get to the back room, make sure everything is running smoothly. Congrats, I guess. On getting out, moving up, getting a proper job. It’s not easy, leaving that life behind, I know.” he shoots Mako an understanding look. “Looks like you got a good thing going for you. And thanks for your uh… discretion.”

“Don't mention it,” Mako says calmly. Jiro walks away and Mako breathes a sigh of relief. He didn't detect any dishonesty or undertones of threats from Jiro. Just genuine fear that Mako might tell his girlfriend about his sketchy past. Mako really couldn't care less about that. Farbeit for Mako to judge.

The bidding begins on the carving that Wu has his eye on, and Wu enthusiastically bids, engaging in a back and forth with a couple other interested buyers. Royal coffers go deep, though. Wu easily outbids the others and Yang lets out an excited cheer and claps when Wu is declared the winning bidder.

There's an afterparty, because of course there is; rich people just love to party, Mako has realized. Mako does his best to remain invisible while also keeping close enough to Wu. Yang seems to have his attention for most of the evening.

“I'm singing at the upper ring club in a few weeks!” Mako hears Yang tell Wu excitedly as she tucks herself into Jiro’s side. “You'll come watch, right?”

“The upper ring club? You bet! This could be your big break!” Wu says with a wide grin.

“I know! I'm so nervous.” She sheepishly looks up at Jiro and he smiles fondly at her.

“You've got nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart. You're gonna blow ‘em away!” he says confidently.

“Yes, absolutely! And I’ll be there giving you a standing ovation!” Wu says, clapping quietly but excitedly to demonstrate.

Mako’s heart pounds for a few, agonizing seconds. If all goes according to plan, Wu won’t attend this show. Yang won’t get that royal endorsement for her singing anymore. Mako’s not sure why that, of all things, is eliciting a strange feeling of regret for what he has to do.

He’s aware, obviously, that every target has connections to other people. Friends. Family. Romantic partners. Children. And he does an excellent job of partitioning the knowledge of those people’s existence far back in his mind. He doesn’t feel any sympathy for a target’s loved ones after the job is done. People die every day. Mako’s own parents died. Mako, to this day, has no idea who the mugger was that had altered his and his brother’s lives forever. If that person is still alive, Mako doesn’t particularly want their sympathy or remorse. It’s useless. It changes nothing. Mako’s parents are dead regardless.

Just like Wu will be. The prince’s friend might mourn him, but Mako feeling bad about it won’t change anything.

“We’ll pick up the piece tomorrow, late afternoon,” Wu says casually as they prepare to leave the afterparty.

“Why not tonight?” Mako asks with a raised eyebrow. “Or have them deliver it to the hotel for you?”

“Oh, I'm not keeping it.” Wu waves his hand dismissively as Mako opens the satomobile door. “It's a gift.”

“Really? You spent that many yuans on a gift?” Mako asks.

“Yes,” Wu says pointedly. “A gift for the University. The dean will love having it to display in the history wing!”

Mako puzzles that out for a moment. Wu had just dropped thousands of yuans on a gift. Thousands of yuans would be life changing for plenty of people. Wu throws it away on a single item from a ‘charity' auction, but then gives it to the university. It's somehow generous and selfish at the same time. Royal money lines Wu’s pockets, taxed from the people in the Earth Kingdom and set aside in a seemingly bottomless account for Wu to do as he pleases here in Republic City.

Of course, Mako can't judge the way a person obtains their money, all things considered. What's more ethical? Wu using earth kingdom taxpayer's money—to which he is legally entitled—to enjoy a frivolous but generous lifestyle; or Mako laundering blood money to set up a windfall for his brother?

Yeah. He's not really interested in a philosophical debate about that.

“So that's the plan for tomorrow? Should I arrange for a security sweep of the University campus?”

“I suppose so,” Wu says carefully. “It’s been a while since I’ve visited. I guess you’ll want to have Hira comb over the place. It’ll be good to be back, though.”

“Back?” Mako asks. 

“Yes, I was a student there, before…” Wu averts his eyes and stares out the satomobile window.

Oh. Before the riots in Ba Sing Se. Before the entire royal family was killed.

Mako doesn't know the details. He doesn't want to know the details. And Wu probably doesn't want to talk about the details.

Wu plasters a smile on—not quite fake, but more like he’s trying to force it—and elbows Mako. “You can meet Dean Shihan! She’s a real spitfire. Believe it or not, she and I are related.”

Mako frowns. “I thought… Is she in line for the throne…?” Mako asks, suddenly concerned that he might have to pull off another job so Kuvira can claim the kingdom permanently.

“No, no. Of course not!” Wu says, almost frantically. “She’s a very distant relative, my fourth cousin, once removed. She’s not from the royal side of my family. She was born into a lower noble family, but she left the Earth Kingdom a long time ago to travel and study. She’s not even an Earth Kingdom citizen, since she became a citizen of the United Nations. Nope! You’re looking at the last Hou-Ting, right here, buddy. The royal line ends with me.”

“Oh,” Mako says lamely. He isn’t sure if Kuvira would find such a person a threat to her agenda. Mako hopes not, all things considered. Wu seems insistent, anyway.

The royal line ends with me.

Wu has no idea how true those words are.

The next afternoon, they collect the piece from the auction house and head toward the University. Wu rambles on and on about what university life was like—the food, the classes, the radio shows, the debate nights, and most of all, the anonymity.

“So… No one knew you were a prince?” Mako asks with a tilt of his head. It’s incomprehensible to Mako that the man in front of him wouldn’t be bragging about being a prince to every person he encountered.

“Nope! It was like a fresh start! Mind you, I was so far down the line of succession, that plenty of people back home didn’t even think of me as being a real prince. Made it easy to ship me abroad the first chance they got.” Wu flashes a self deprecating smile at Mako. “I think my great aunt sent some of her Dai Li to spy on me, to make sure I didn’t completely embarrass the Hou-Ting dynasty. But it was the most freedom I’d ever had.” Wu averts his eyes and stares out the window wistfully.

Mako thinks back to the night when they went to the top of Harmony Tower. When Wu insisted he was treated like a prisoner. Mako thought he was just being dramatic. He can do as he pleases, go where he wants… As long as he has his security detail. As long as it’s pre-planned. As long as it’s within the city limits…

Even when Wu regarded himself as free, he still suspected his every move was watched. Perhaps Wu can technically do as he pleases now, and he could back then, but… maybe he’s more of a prisoner than Mako had initially cared to admit.

Mako can relate, he realizes with a startle. He’s not exactly a prisoner, but Mako hasn’t been free, truly free, in a long time.

“Did you… get a degree? Graduate, or whatever?” Mako asks awkwardly.

Wu blinks at him and shoots him a sardonic look. “Definitely not, big guy. It was mid-semester when I was put into Republic City Police custody.” Wu shrugged as if to convey such a thing was inevitable. “That was three years ago. I’ve managed to visit the campus every now and then, but classes are out of the question. And unnecessary.”

“Really? An education is unnecessary for… Ruling an entire country?” Mako asks incredulously.

Wu snorts a laugh, as if Mako is stupid, which Mako does not appreciate. “Oh, no no no. I’ll have ministers and advisors for that.”  

Mako frowns. “But, you’re still going to be the King, shouldn’t you—” he starts to say, but he cuts himself off because it’s unprofessional for him to argue with Wu like this, and it’s all irrelevant because Wu isn’t going to be the king of anything.

“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy,” Wu says with a smile that shouldn’t match the subject matter. “No one expects me to actually rule. No one wants me to rule! I was never supposed to be King. I was eleventh in line for the throne.”

Mako digests that tidbit for a moment. He knew Wu had been far down the line of succession, but he hadn’t realized just how far. Eleven people, in addition to the Earth Queen, had to die for Wu to be next to the throne.

And Mako knows well enough that everyone after Wu in the line of succession had been killed in the riots as well. It's just Wu, the last Hou-Ting…

When they arrive at the university campus, Wu sends his valet inside to inform the receptionist that they’ve arrived. The Dean is expecting them, and the archeology department will send a dollie out to collect the stone carving. In the meantime, Mako and Wu wait by the car. The trunk is open containing the carving and Mako looks at it more closely. 

“This particular piece was discovered in Ba Sing Se, hidden away under the palace. It was looted during the riots, and it passed hands a few times until it ended up here. Dean Shihan thinks it’s a genuine piece, carved and unaltered from the time period when the legend would have taken place,” Wu says as he notices Mako looking at it.

Upon closer inspection, it looks different from other depictions of the story of Oma and Shu. Mako can’t quite put his finger on why it looks different. Something about the way both of them are dressed, he thinks. 

“You're looking at that carving pretty hard, huh?  Are you a big fan of the story of Oma and Shu?” Wu asks, a sly smile on his face.

“I wouldn't say I'm a fan,” Mako says with a shrug.

“What do you know about the story, big guy?” Wu asks casually. 

Mako shrugs. “The basics, I guess? Not exactly something people around here talk about much. Other than ‘Secret Tunnel’ being a popular drinking song.”

“Right. ‘Two lovers, forbidden from one another’.” Wu says casually, quoting the song in a flat speaking voice. “Kind of macabre for a drinking song, though.”

“I guess,” Mako says disinterestedly. He hasn’t been in a bar or club in a long time, but there’s plenty to drink at the fight nights. It wouldn’t be an underground fighting ring without copious amounts of alcohol and a couple dozen spectators making a ruckus. The “Secret Tunnel” song is a favorite, particularly for anyone from the Earth Kingdom or anyone rooting for an earthbender. Probably because of how macabre it is. Nothing like a song that mentions dying to set the mood for a fight.

“You know,” Wu says casually, suddenly examining his own shirt cuff, picking off invisible lint. “There are some modern archeologists and historians who believe the original story of Oma and Shu had been altered at some point in Earth Kingdom history.”

“Altered? What’s the original story, then?” Mako asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well,” Wu says carefully, not meeting Mako’s eyes. “Some think that Oma and Shu were both women.”

Mako glances back at the carving. Now that Wu has said that, Mako can put his finger on what looks different about the carving, compared to other depictions of the legend of Oma and Shu he had seen throughout his life. Both of the figures are feminine in shape and dress, as far as Mako can tell for that era.

It’s fascinating, for sure. The idea that one of the world's most well-known tragic love stories might actually be about love between two women—it’s both affirming and depressing. Affirming because the legend is regarded as the most romantic story in nearly all the world. The message—that love is strong enough to literally move and shape mountains and stop a war— is ageless and universal as far as idealized visions of romance go. But not only is the story itself depressing—Shu died and Oma’s grief was what truly made her bending powerful enough to stop the villages from destroying one another—but the implications of altering it were horribly depressing too. Why alter the story, if not to appease the bigots in charge of the world?

Wu isn't looking Mako’s way. He’s staring off to the side, as if he’s very focused on something in the distance. He seems nervous. Maybe Wu is trying to get a feel for how Mako might react to his sexuality? (Assuming Wu is queer. He might not be. Mako refuses to assume like everyone else is.)

Is Wu giving Mako an opportunity…? A little extension of… trust? 

Trust. If Mako wants to finish the job, he has to gain Wu's trust, and this is a chance to earn some. The fact that Mako’s reaction is going to be genuine is irrelevant. If he didn’t feel this way, he’d lie and pretend. It’s all just a means to an end.

“I’ve always hated the story of Oma and Shu,” Mako says carefully. “Too depressing. But it shouldn’t matter if they’re both women. I mean, love is… love. I guess.” Mako hopes that’s enough to give Wu something to latch onto, something to trust.

Wu tips his head, and Mako thinks he might speak, but before any words come out, Wu’s valet returns with three people, an older woman and two younger men with a cart, presumably to transport the carving inside.

“Wu!” the woman says excitedly. “Oh, it's wonderful to see you! I was wondering if you’d pay me a visit before shipping off to Ba Sing Se! Oh, and look at this piece…” The woman takes stock of the carving, delight plastered all over her face.

“Dean Shihan, this is my new bodyguard, Mako,” Wu says, gesturing toward Mako. “Mako, Shihan, the dean of Republic City University.”

Mako nods politely as Dean Shihan grins widely at him. “It's a pleasure to meet you! Thanks for keeping His Royal Highness safe!” She gives Wu a wry wink and he rolls his eyes, though he smiles as he does so. Mako guesses there’s a joke between them, given the sarcastic way she used his title.

“Just doing my job, Ma’am,” Mako says professionally. 

“Look at this!” Shihan says excitedly, directing her attention to the carving again. “So well preserved! No signs of earthbending alterations, what a remarkable find! I can't believe this was hidden in the palace all this time!”

“Who would have thought something good would have come from the riots!” Wu says brightly. Too brightly. The Earth Queen was killed in the riots, along with every other member of the royal family. Of Wu’s family. Shihan’s smile softens to something sympathetic, but she doesn't comment further. No need to.

Shihan links arms with Wu, rambling on about how excited she is for the history and archeology departments to study the carving. Wu, strangely, seems more relaxed than usual. Mako hadn’t realized that was possible. Wu seems relaxed at all times, at least Mako had thought. But it seems Wu’s casual, laid back demeanor is something fake or forced. Even talking with Yang, with whom Wu seems to share a genuine friendship, Wu seemed to be putting on a show. 

Mako sees the facade slip, just a little, in the presence of Shihan. Mako can guess why.

She’s family.

Distant family, but family all the same. She asks Wu to come to her office, to sit with her and catch up. Wu eagerly agrees. And why wouldn’t he? He has nothing else planned today, as far as Mako has been briefed on. And Mako can sense how desperately Wu wants to be here, at the University.

Mako sees Wu relax more and more as he and Shihan reminisce about old family members—long dead and newly dead alike. Wu’s parents. His first cousins. His aunts and uncles. Grandparents. All dead. A few have been dead for years and years. The rest were killed in the Ba Sing Se riots.

Wu and Shihan don’t talk about that, obviously. But Mako can feel the fact looming over the cozy office as they laugh over tea. Family lost.

Family… Mako’s heart lurches without warning, and he has to swallow down the lump in his throat as the unwanted memories of his own family come to mind. Losing his parents. Saying goodbye to Bolin.

“All right, enough, enough!” Sparks fly as Zolt slams his fist on the doorframe. He looks to Shin, Mushi and Tokuga. “You three! What are you doing? These boys are like family! You don’t fight with family like this in public, it’s not dignified.”

Shin looks frightened; there’s scorch marks on the doorframe from Zolt’s lightning.

“And boys. I’ve gotta say,” Zolt says with a low growl. “I’m very unhappy with what happened today. I’m especially disappointed in you, little Bolin—”

“I told you he wasn’t ready!” Mako argued. Bolin would never be ready for this life. He was too good, too kind, too soft…

Zolt ignores him and locks eyes with Toza. “And you. You cost me a lot of money just now. That was a stupid move, you know, going back on a deal. I thought you were an honorable man.”

“I am, I just needed someone to remind me,” Toza says as he throws a wad of cash on the ground at Zolt’s feet. “Here. Count it. It’s all there. Now get out of my gym. I’m done doing business with you.”

Zolt picks the money up and stares at Toza thoughtfully. Then he locks eyes with Mako. “Come on, son.” Mako cringes. “Get your brother and come with me. We’ll talk about this back at headquarters.”

“Wait.” Toza blocks Mako and Bolin from leaving. “You boys have got some real bending skills. With a little training, I think you could go pro. I can fix you up with a place to stay right here in the arena.”

Bolin’s whole face lights up in a way Mako hasn’t seen in a long, long time. 

Shin barks out a laugh. “Sorry bum, but at least one of these kids knows better than that, right Mako?”

“Can we, Mako? Mako, Mako, please?” Bolin begs, desperate and excited.

Mako freezes. That’s too easy. Mako knows better than to try and get out. Whatever ‘talk’ Zolt plans on having with them back at headquarters, it’ll be nothing compared to what Zolt will do to them if they try to leave the Triple Threats.

“No. Come on, Bo. We have to go,” Mako says apologetically.

Bolin’s eyes are wet, but he swallows and sniffles and starts to step forward.

“Wait,” Zolt says suddenly. Mako turns back to Zolt and blinks questioningly. Zolt grins widely. “I just had an excellent idea. You know, I think maybe you’re right, Mako. Little Bolin just isn’t cut out for this life. I think maybe it’s for the best if you come back to headquarters with me and Bolin stays here.”

“No, it’s okay!” Bolin says frantically. “I’ll come with you, Zolt, Mako didn’t do anything wrong, it was me—” Bolin moves as if to run into Mako’s arms, but Toza places a firm hand on Bo’s shoulder, as if to hold him back.

Zolt steps forward, placing a chillingly gentle hand on Mako’s shoulder. “You want your brother outta this life? You want him to go make it big, learn pro-bending? You want to make sure he’s untouchable? I can make your dreams come true, son. On one condition…” His voice is low and rumbles in Mako’s ears.

“What?’ Mako asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Mako’s heart pounds in his ears. As much as Mako wants to convince himself otherwise, he knows what the condition is. He’ll stay on, he’ll do whatever jobs Zolt wants him to do. And there’s only one occupation in the ranks of the triads that matches the skills Zolt has been hammering into Mako.

“I’ve got some new work for you. Think of it as a promotion.”

Zolt’s been training him personally since the day Mako demonstrated his bending for the first time. Zolt’s taught him how to empty his mind and call lighting in an instant, he’s taught him how to control his breathing even when facing terrifying odds, he’s taught him how to control his emotions and stuff his feelings away to call up deadly, targeted flames.

Deadly.

It was only a matter of time, Mako knew, before Zolt would have Mako pulling off hits. Mako could try to fool himself into thinking he’d be on the protection rounds forever, but the truth is, Zolt’s been training Mako for this since Mako was ten years old.

But the offer to let Bolin go, to set him free, to get him out of this life… It’s a unique opportunity presented to Mako here. No one gets out. But Zolt is a man of his word, if he says Bolin is out, then Mako knows Bolin is really, truly out of the Triad life for good. 

Bolin gets out as long as Mako goes along willingly.

“Untouchable,” Mako says, summoning every bit of authority he’s able. “He’s out for good, and he’s untouchable. I know you never go back on your word, you’ve gotta swear it.”

“I swear it,” Zolt says solemnly. “I promise that Bolin here is completely off the hook. He’s out of the Triads for good, and no one will touch him. As long as you work for me.”

Mako swallows hard, frozen in place. 

He turns and looks at Bolin, at his wide, tearful eyes and the pleading look on his face. He looks at Toza, who—in spite of Bolin inspiring him—gives Mako a look of resignation. Toza knows what Mako has to do. And his offer to take in both of them is tempting, for sure. But what kind of danger would that bring to Toza and, worse, Bolin? Zolt would never let Mako go, not after he’d invested so much time and effort into training him. Zolt would come after Mako ceaselessly, and he’d make Mako pay, probably with blood.

Mako knows what the right choice is here. He’s got to take this deal. It’s the only way to ensure Bolin is safe and that Bolin has a shot at an honest future

“Okay,” Mako says before he can talk himself out of it.

“NO!” Bolin shouts. He escapes Toza’s grasp and runs into Mako’s arms. Pabu is on Bolin’s shoulders chittering frantically as Bolin frantically pleads with Mako. “No, no, no! I’m sorry, I mean it! I’ll run numbers, I won’t mess up again, I promise!”

Mako slowly snakes his arms around his brother and hold him close. He glances up at Zolt, who has ushered the other guys out of the gym. Zolt casually leans against the doorframe, right by the scorch mark he left just a few minutes ago. Zolt doesn’t even look like he’s paying them any mind as he pulls a cigar out of his mouth and snaps a small flame to light the end.

“You didn’t mess up, Bo,” Mako says as gently as he can manage. I messed up, Mako thinks to himself. “You didn’t do anything wrong, that’s not what’s happening—”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll stay with the Triads, I don’t care what I have to do, but you can’t leave! ” Bolin argues.

“It’s okay, this is good. You’ll be safe and you can train to be a pro-bender like you've always wanted. Pabu can stay with you, Toza will look out for you, and I’ll make sure the Triads leave you alone, okay?” Mako says softly into Bolin’s hair as he holds him close. “No one’s gonna hurt you, I promise.”

Mako makes eye contact with Toza as Bolin weeps out a string of pleas to come back with Mako. But Mako knows this is what’s best for him. Toza frowns at him sympathetically.

“I’ll look out for him,” Toza says. 

Mako knows it’s true. He nods at Toza in thanks, ruffles Bolin’s hair, and gives him a tight squeeze. 

“I love you,” Mako says earnestly.

“I—I lo—I love you too!” Bolin says between his hiccupy cries.

Mako peels Bolin’s arms away, turns, and follows Zolt out the door.

Shihan and Wu burst out into a roar of laughter as they reminisce about Wu’s grandfather. Mako can’t remember what it’s like to laugh like that, especially over memories of family. He doesn’t even like to think about any of them, his parents or his brother, because it leaves him feeling empty and heartsick. He can’t imagine laughing when he thinks of them.

The rest of the evening goes by slowly, as, once again, Mako can’t find an opportunity to do his job.

That night, Wu drags Mako through Roku Plaza, following a small crowd that seem to be headed to the same bar. Mako’s keeps a lookout, but it’s just a bunch of college students. No danger, but also an ever-present hindrance to Mako attempting anything. Wu’s found their next adventure— a college speakeasy. Mako can hear the live music spilling out the entrance as the group in front of them enters.

The place hasn’t been swept or vetted, of course. And it looks like a little hole-in-the-wall place, more like something from the nicer parts of the Dragon Flats. It’s not dirty, exactly, but a haze of cigarette smoke clouds the room slightly. 

Mako wonders if there’s a back alley behind the building where he can lure Wu to finally get him alone. 

No one seems to notice or recognize Wu—though he is dressed more casually than usual. He doesn’t look like royalty tonight, dressed in a simple green shirt with long sleeves and a high collar; rather than the suits he typically wears. Wu’s just another face in the crowd, tonight. He sticks close to Mako though, practically hanging off of him as he regales Mako with stories of his college days when he’d come to this bar and dance the night away.

Wu bypasses the bar entirely and meanders over toward the dance floor in front of the stage. There’s no singers, this band is all instruments. The jazz music is loud and lively, and there are couples dancing and laughing together.

Mako scans the room—for threats, of course, but also for entrances and exits. There’s a hall that leads to an employee only area, and Mako guesses that’s the only back entrance. So much for luring Wu away somewhere private.

“Hey, my big, tough guy! How about a dance?” Wu asks, holding his hand out.

Mako stares at him, speechless and incredulous for a moment. Did Wu actually just ask that? Wu’s been casual, friendly, and yes flirty with Mako since they first laid eyes on each other. But asking Mako to dance…

“No,” Mako says firmly. “I’ve got to—”

“Yeah, yeah, bodyguard duties, keep watch, find a vantage point, blah blah blah. But this place is small and just a touch crowded, so I know I’ll be safer with you close by. And the dance floor calls, so you’re coming with me!”

“I can’t dance, Wu,” Mako says, exasperated. Mako has literally never danced before. Not alone, and definitely not with a partner.

“It’s easy, come on!” Wu argues. “It’ll be fun!”

“I’m not interested,” Mako says with a scowl.

“Oooh, you will be,” Wu says with a smirk. “Once you get a taste of my moves!” To demonstrate, Wu twists into a spin and then grabs Mako’s arm to pull him close.

Mako can stop this if he wants. But Wu’s caught Mako in a whirlwind, and he suddenly can’t catch his breath. Wu is close, too close. Their bodies aren’t flush, but Wu’s hands fly up to Mako’s shoulders clinging tightly as he pulls Mako further into the dance floor.

Mako worries, for a brief moment, that this could be bad, two men, dancing together in public. But Mako looks around and everyone else here is so plastered that they’re barely paying any mind to what Mako and Wu are doing. He also catches sight of two women dancing together, so maybe it’s not a big deal here…

The music has a fast tempo, and everyone around them seems to be doing a different dance—there’s no cohesive sequence or steps. Everyone is just… having fun.

Wu grips Mako by the waist to force him into position. Mako’s so surprised by the feeling of Wu’s fingers pressing against his hips, he can't help the small gasp he exhales. But Wu’s hands are gone just as quickly, and suddenly Wu is holding Mako’s hands, and his feet are moving and Mako isn’t sure what to do; he can’t easily pull away. There's too much of a crowd.

So, Mako moves with Wu, as best he can. He definitely can’t keep up with Wu’s steps, but he manages to find a rhythm with his feet, travel the floor wherever Wu leads him, and stay close. Wu’s fingers are like velvet against the calloused skin of Mako’s hands. Mako’s heart is pounding and Wu’s eyes sparkle with mischief. He’s delighted that he managed to make Mako dance.

Mako’s not sure what’s come over him, why he’s letting Wu lead him around the dance floor. But Mako’s having trouble pushing away those feelings that have been simmering under the surface for the past three weeks. Wu’s smiling and his curly hair bounces with each movement and everything about him is charming and enticing. Spirits. Mako was stupid enough to think about seducing Wu, but he’s suddenly worried about the opposite. Wu might very well succeed in seducing him, if he keeps up like this.

Mako lets his brain shut off all the calculations, all the machinations, all the frustration of plotting to do his job; and for a moment he’s just… Here. Now. Just Mako and Wu and some fun, loud music. Just the feel of Wu’s fingers and the sight of his soft green eyes and the smell of Wu’s cologne mixing with the liquor and cigarette smoke in the air and the sound of jazz blaring in his ears and—there are five senses, right? What’s the fifth sense? Oh yeah, taste. What does Wu’s mouth taste like? What would happen if Mako just leaned in, and…

The music slows suddenly—Mako and Wu must have started dancing at the tail end of the more upbeat song. Wu’s hands are suddenly around the back of Mako’s neck, and that’s all the warning Mako gets before Wu pulls their bodies close. Their chests are flush, and Mako isn’t much taller than Wu, But Mako has to tilt his chin down while Wu tilts his chin up for their eyes to meet.

He can feel Wu’s breath on his lips. Mako’s heart is pounding and he tries not to exhale as Wu leans his weight into Mako’s body. Mako’s suddenly, painfully aware that there’s something between them.

The vials in his inner chest pocket.

Mako pulls back quickly, feeling both flustered and panicked. Wu has this way of making Mako forget, forget why he’s here, what’s at stake, what he has to do. And forget that he has poison in the pocket on his chest. It’s fine, he tells himself, the bottles are unlabeled. Even so, he doesn’t want to hear Wu incessantly question him about what’s in his pocket if he could feel them through the layers of their clothes.

This is ridiculous. This shouldn’t be so fucking difficult. What’s wrong with Mako?

Wu’s frowning at him, and Mako huffs and narrows his eyes. “No more dancing,” Mako says as emotionlessly as he can.

Something flashes across Wu’s face; he narrows his eyes, purses his lips and tightens his jaw. Mako’s getting good at deciphering Wu’s expressions, but this one is a mystery.

Then the expression is gone, replaced by something easy-breezy as Wu’s face relaxes. He laughs, light and airy. “Sheesh, okay, okay! I get it, too embarrassed by your dance moves? For what it’s worth, I think your moves were just swell!” Wu says in a charming voice.

Mako rolls his eyes, which is disrespectful to royalty, but he does it anyway. Mako watches as Wu wanders away and finds the nearest single woman, drops an atrocious line, calling her gumdrop and easy on the eyes with a flirtatious wink. This girl seems annoyed with him at first, but he offers to buy her and all her friends drinks, and suddenly she’s just as flirtatious back.

Mako grits his teeth and breathes deeply. He doesn’t understand why Wu acts like this, like he’s trying to yank Mako around. He’s casual and friendly, he’s unpredictable and flighty, he’s frustrating and confusing, one minute he’s ignoring Mako and the next he’s hanging all over him and now he’s flirting with someone else and that shouldn’t make Mako feel anything, so why does his chest feel like it’s on fire? Why is all of this making Mako’s pulse race? 

He’s got to remember what he’s here for, what he has to do. He has to control his emotions, empty his mind, stuff all the feelings away, just like when he’s bending.

He’s got to get a handle on these feelings.

Chapter Text

The next day, Wu insists on Kwong’s for lunch. The dining room is full as always, but that’s not saying much. Kwong's purposefully has limited seating to maintain an air of intimacy for its guests. Waiters and bussers glide to and fro as the hostess takes Wu to his table.

They've been here a handful of times since Mako started this spirits-forsaken job three weeks ago, and every time, Wu begs Mako to sit. And every time, Mako refuses.

He should refuse today, too. But this time, Wu grabs his arm and practically yanks him down into the booth. Mako is always surprised at how firm Wu’s grip is—his fingers are so slender, but they’re long and manage to wrap surprisingly far around Mako’s forearm. It’s jarring, considering Wu isn’t very strong, but he manages to yank Mako around all the time anyway. Mako supposes it’s his own fault, perhaps he should resist more. But he doesn’t, not right now, anyway. He plops down in the seat next to Wu, about to protest.

He doesn’t protest, though, because Wu leans close to Mako and for a moment, it overwhelms Mako’s senses to have Wu so close to him again. His cologne, with its faint scent of sandalwood and citrus, hits Mako’s nose and he has to stop himself from inhaling deeply. Wu’s got a twinkle in his eyes, one that can’t be explained by the reflection of the chandeliers in the room.

“Look!” Wu whispers in a conspiratorial voice. 

Mako follow’s Wu’s eyeline and sees the waitress who served them on Mako’s first day with Wu. Yuka was her name, Mako remembers. She brings a plate of steaming food to a table across the room, spending a moment to refresh everyone’s cucumber-aloe water with the pitcher she holds in the other hand. 

Mako is continually impressed with the skills of servers and other workers in establishments like this. Wherever wealthy people congregate, the working folks seem to have a special level of patience and ability to multitask while maintaining a polite silence in the presence of the upper class, who’d rather the working class remain seen and not heard, so they can pretend the lower class doesn’t exist. 

Wu’s the exception to that, though. He loves to chat with everyone. Regardless of their station in life. Mako sees it all the time, servers and attendants and housekeepers all caught off guard by Wu’s incessant chatter and friendly disposition. Most people are too frightened to return Wu’s casual banter, but a select few let their guard down and Wu manages to build an easy rapport with them.

“Uh… What am I looking at?” Mako asks in a low voice, trying to match Wu’s volume.

Wu rolls his eyes. “You really should be more observant, mister-bodyguard. Her necklace!”

Oh, Mako sees now, especially as she turns a bit. A blue stone catches the soft lighting of the room. It hangs from a ribbon around her neck with accents of silver beads. Mako may have grown up in the United Republic, and he may not have any Water Tribe Heritage, but he knows that’s a traditional water tribe betrothal necklace. Looks like that line cook finally got the guts to propose.

“Oh,” Mako says nonchalantly. “Good for them, I guess?”

Wu rolls his eyes even harder this time. “Wow, can you at least pretend to be happy for them?”

“What?” Mako says defensively. “I said good for them!”

The waitress approaches their table with the pitcher and begins filling the glasses already sitting at the table’s place setting. She has a wide smile as she greets them. “Prince Wu, so good to see you! And you decided to sit down this time, Mako? Wonderful!”

“Yuka!” Wu says, resting his chin on his hand. Mako is still sitting next to him, but he can’t get up now, not with Yuka standing there and blocking his way. “Why, there’s something different about you today, though I can’t quite put my finger on it. New haircut, perhaps?”

Mako practically rolls his eyes at Wu’s attempt to fish for gossip.

Yuka giggles. “I know you knew about it,” she says, tapping the center stone with her index finger. It’s round and light blue, and there’s a design of a moon and waves carved into it. “Props to you for keeping it to yourself.” She winks at Wu, who delights at her praise.

“Oh it was torturous!” Wu says dramatically. Mako bites back a scoff. Wu is certainly prone to hyperbole. Wu leans in and takes a drink of his water, then adds, “especially considering Achak kept putting it off! He was so nervous!”

Yuka’s smile reaches her eyes as her whole face lights up. “He was shaking!” she says with a giggle. “He barely got the words out. But he did, and now we’re engaged!” She proudly tips her chin up just a tad, to show off her necklace just a bit more.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you,” Wu says dreamily as he rests his chin in his hand. “You have to tell me the whole story! I want every detail!”

Yuka giggles and regales Wu with the details of the proposal—a home cooked meal served by candlelight on the rooftop of Achak’s apartment, where they stargazed until he finally popped the question—and Wu eats up every word. All the while, Wu keeps close to Mako, gripping Mako’s bicep as though Mako is the only thing keeping him from swooning onto the booth seat at the romance of the proposal.

Mako swallows hard. He had expected Wu to act differently after last night, after he’d pulled Mako out onto the dancefloor of a college jazz speakeasy and pressed their bodies together and Mako panicked and pushed him away. Wu’s reaction had been weighing on Mako heavily as he wondered if Wu would stop treating him so casually.

But Wu is still grabbing Mako by the arm, leaning close, and acting like they’re friends rather than employer and bodyguard; so Mako must not have truly upset Wu when he pushed Wu away. And Mako is relieved. Not because he wants Wu so close to him. No, that’s not it. Because Mako’s current plans are predicated on Wu trusting him, on Wu letting his guard down and Mako getting Wu alone.

Still, even though he tells himself he doesn’t want Wu close, he has barely been able to stop thinking about the feeling of Wu’s body pressed against him—seeing him smile as he got lost in the music had all of Mako’s nerves buzzing in exhilaration, the way Wu’s fingers interlaced at the nape of Mako’s neck, and the way he had gazed at Mako… Something about it felt right.

What had Mako been thinking, letting that happen?

Mako can admit to himself that perhaps the rumors and whispers about Wu are true, and Wu is interested in men—in Mako. But Mako doesn’t think he can bring himself to take advantage of it. He should be careful not to let things go too far. If Wu thinks Mako might be interested back and it leads to something…

Mako really doesn’t want to cross that line. He’s afraid of what he might find on the other side.

After Yuka takes their orders—Wu ordered for Mako, drinks, appetizer, and lunch—Mako decides not to move from his seat. Perhaps sitting with Wu—maybe even talking to him— will garner more trust, repair whatever damage he might have done last night.

“Why are you so invested in their engagement?” Mako asks curiously.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s been the gossip of the whole kitchen.” Wu says with a shrug as he scoots his water glass closer to himself.

“Right. Is that because you know the chef? How do you know them so well, anyway?” Mako asks, wondering why Wu acts so friendly with a person who treats Wu like nothing more than an intrusive nuisance. 

Wu seems surprised by the question. “Oh, well. Chef Khanh and I had a couple classes together my first year at University. They dropped out when they decided to pursue fine dining instead.”

“And you two are… Friends? They've seemed… annoyed with you. Whenever you barge into the kitchen, that is.” Mako thinks back to his first day on the job, when the chef had immediately told Wu no when he tried to make a special request.

Wu waves his hand dismissively. “Acting grumpy is just their defense mechanism .” Wu leans forward and a smirk grows on his lips as he rests his chin on his fist. “You wouldn’t know what that’s like, would you?” Wu asks, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Well that isn’t fair. Wu is sidestepping a straightforward question and deflecting back onto Mako.

“I don't act… grumpy,” Mako argues pathetically. He doesn't, it’s just that he doesn’t bother pretending to be happy. That’s not the same as being grumpy.  

“Uh huh.” Wu shrugs and takes a drink of his water. “Whatever you say, big, tough, grumpy guy.”

Mako almost huffs and scowls in irritation, until he realizes that’s what a grumpy person would do. Mako feels his face flush in embarrassment, and averts his eyes as Wu’s grin grows even wider.

“Well what about your defense mechanism?” Mako asks, more accusingly than he means. “The jokes and the refusal to answer questions?”

Wu’s eyebrows shoot up, nearly hitting his hairline in surprise. Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say, Mako worries. But it is a little frustrating, the way Wu is so flippant and unserious and turns everything into a joke or a pickup line.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Wu says, proving Mako's point entirely.

“Right. Of course not.” Mako rolls his eyes. This is pointless. He’s getting nowhere. He starts shifting to get out of the booth, but Wu grabs his arm again, holding him in place. His grip is tighter than before. Wu’s perfectly manicured nails would be biting into Mako’s skin were it not for the long sleeves of Mako’s uniform.

“Khahn and I were both shipped off by our families,” Wu says cautiously. “They’re from Omashu, one of the noble houses.” Wu speaks quietly, as though this is a scandal to speak aloud. Maybe it is. Mako doesn’t know shit about noble houses in Omashu.

“So you two had a lot in common,” Mako observed.

“Yes, well, we had somewhat different reasons for getting sent away.” Wu says cryptically. “But it all boiled down to disappointing our families.” Wu relaxes his grip on Mako’s arm as Mako relaxes back into the seat and makes no indication of leaving.

“So… you're friends, but they just… act like they're annoyed with you?” Mako asks. Seems weird, but what does Mako know? It's not like he has any friends.

“Pretty much,” Wu says with a shrug. “We both know what it's like to be rejected by family. What about you, huh?”

“What about me?”

“Are you close with your family? High profile security gig is an impressive job, so I’d imagine they’re proud.” 

Mako feels a pit in his stomach. He definitely doesn't want to talk about his family. Wu frowns at Mako’s silence.

“I don't know,” Mako lies. 

He does know what his parents would think of his job. They're gone, but his parents would certainly not be proud of Mako. Maybe they’d understand the impossible positions he had found himself in, but they certainly wouldn’t be proud. They’d be horrified.

“You… don’t know?” Wu cocks his head in curiosity and confusion.

“I… lost my parents. When I was younger,” Mako says before he realizes what he’s doing. Why does Wu keep pulling all this out of him? His heritage, his family… He never talks about this shit. He barely lets himself think about it. Yet here he is, blurting out his history to Wu.

Wu’s face falls. “Oh. I'm sorry. That's… it's hard. I know. Do you have more family?”

Mako swallows hard. Bolin, he thinks, but he’s definitely not going to mention his brother. And as for other family… 

He’s pretty sure he has extended family out there, but… he doesn't know who they are. Where they live. How many relatives he even has. He only barely remembers being a child and overhearing Dad mention having parents of his own… and from what Mako does remember, it had sounded like they weren't on speaking terms. 

And Mom had never mentioned any family either. Maybe they were dead. Or maybe she hadn't been on speaking terms with her family either. 

After… that night… the night his parents had died, the police had tried to get information from Mako and Bolin about who next of kin might be. He and his brother had nothing to share. No names or locations or even a vague idea if next of kin existed.  It had just been him, his parents and Bolin for as long as he could remember.

Wu is staring at Mako expectantly, waiting patiently for him to answer. “I don't know,” Mako says honestly. “I think they might have been estranged. I don't know anything about my extended family.”

Wu frowns and Mako bristles because he feels like Wu is pitying him. Mako hates pity. It's pointless and it makes him feel… vulnerable. Like he’s small and helpless and the person pitying him thinks they're better off. Wu absolutely should not be pitying Mako. Mako should pity Wu, because he’s going to be… Gone. Mako’s going to—

“I was never officially estranged,” Wu says softly. “I still kept in contact with everyone until… Well. You know.” Wu gives a small, sad smile. 

Wait. Mako misread Wu. It’s not pity on Wu’s face, it’s… commiseration. He knows what it’s like to lose one’s family. He’s not pitying Mako. He understands Mako.

Mako’s heart flutters at the realization.

“In any case,” Wu says after a somber beat, “Chef Khahn certainly likes to pretend to be grumpy. But that’s just for show. So no one messes with them. So no one bothers to get too close. I suppose it seems easier that way. They act like a grump so they scare people off, then when they’re alone they can tell themselves it’s because they drove everyone away on purpose.” Wu speaks with certainty as he holds eye contact with Mako. Mako distinctly gets the feeling Wu isn’t just talking about Khahn.

Mako blinks and resists the urge to get defensive. Mako doesn’t do that. Right? He doesn’t drive people away by being an ass. He chooses to be alone. But he isn’t trying to lie to himself. He knows he doesn’t deserve… companionship. Friends, family, love… Mako doesn’t get to have any of that. He’s done horrible, awful things, things that would make any decent person run for the hills. 

Wu has no idea. If he knew… He wouldn’t be trying to get Mako to laugh or dance with him or tug on his arm or buy him smoothies or press their bodies together—

“How can you possibly know that?” Mako says as emotionlessly as possible. “It seems like you’re making a lot of assumptions.”

“I can just tell,” Wu says without breaking eye contact. “I notice when someone is putting on an act.”

Mako blinks as Wu gazes at him another second or two—though it feels like an hour. Then Yuka is back at the table with their food, and Wu is back to gushing over her engagement. Mako slouches back and tries to ignore them, scanning the room for security threats until she leaves them to the appetizer.

“Sooo…” Wu drawls out with a bright and mischievous grin. “You’re already sitting, why don’t you have a bite?” Wu gestures to the spicy octopus fritters Yuka had brought to the table. 

Damnit, normally Mako’s not sitting right in front of the food. But it smells delicious. Before Mako can answer, Wu picks up a piece with his chopsticks and holds it up to Mako's mouth.

Mako feels his face threatening to warm. Wu is actually trying to physically feed him with chopsticks. 

Mako frowns; there's that look in Wu’s eye again. Like he's trying to push Mako’s buttons. Like he’s daring Mako to say no.

Mako takes the chopsticks from Wu’s hand. He’ll try a bite, but he certainly isn't going to let Wu feed him.

“Well?” Wu asks expectantly. There's a smug smirk on his face.

“It's good,” Mako answers honestly after he finishes chewing. “Not very spicy though.” He adds.

“Well. You know. It’s just fire nation spicy,” Wu says, barely containing the glee in his voice as he tries (and fails) to sound blasé.

Mako can't help the huff of a laugh that tumbles out of his mouth. Wu’s teasing words distinctly call back to Mako and Wu’s first day together when Wu had incessantly pestered Mako into comparing curry dishes from the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation. 

Wu’s smile softens into something more wistful as Mako tries (and fails) to cover his laugh with a cough.

Wu rests his chin on the palm of his hand, elbow on the table. He stares at Mako expectantly, his eyes darting from the plate of food and back to Mako again.

Mako rolls his eyes and takes another fritter for himself. He’s already seated and eating. He might as well enjoy himself a bit.

For now.

More is the only word Mako can think of to describe how Wu acts now. 

He’s more casual, ( Mako, my man! Buddy! Pal! All while lounging on the sofa of his suite or the booth at a fancy restaurant) more spontaneous (Mako’s getting a little tired of chasing Wu around Harmony Park, though Wu has expanded his ‘adventure’ radius to include Roku Plaza and Old Cranefish Town, with the occasional visit downtown), and more flirty (that part, Mako is noticing more and more after he let himself admit that Wu might have been flirting with him in the first place).

He still throws his arm around Mako, grabs Mako by the hand far too often, stands too close, but he seems to at least have figured out the line with Mako after their dance a week ago. He hasn’t pressed his body against Mako’s since that night. Much to Mako’s disappointment—

No, wait. Relief. Right. He’s relieved because he doesn’t need Wu pressed against him, not when he’s keeping poison in his pocket. Relieved. Not disappointed. 

Mako had hoped he’d have finished the job by now. And if he’s honest with himself, it’s not that he hasn’t had any opportunities. It’s just that they haven’t been certain. Maybe he could have coaxed Wu somewhere completely private during their most recent trek around Harmony Park. Or maybe he could be more aggressive about Wu’s food and drink, trying to lure him away so he can get a chance to tamper, instead of passively waiting for an opportunity. 

But it just doesn’t feel like a surefire thing, and Mako knows he’ll probably only have one shot. He wants to make sure the timing is just right. He wants—

“Mako, look at this!” Wu tugs on Mako’s arm and watches the display of bending on the makeshift stage in the park. The earthbenders put on a lavish display of dancing that incorporates the strong, sturdy stances that are the cornerstone of connecting to and bending the element of earth. 

The Earth Kingdom Harvest festival was something Mako hadn’t attended in a long time. Not since… childhood. 

It’s an odd feeling, seeing the fresh food on display, the games and prizes, the performers. Mako remembers being little and sitting on his dad’s shoulders as they watched the Earthbenders put on similar shows. They had figured out Mako was a firebender very early on, when he was a baby, but Dad had always made sure Mako felt connected to his Earth heritage. The harvest festival must have been important to Dad, for Mako to remember it so well.

Now he stands here with the Earth Prince, who marvels at the dance much like Mako used to marvel at it as a child. Mako wonders what Dad would think of that.

Mako is silent as Wu continues on, pointing to the performers. “They call it ‘The Dance of the Badgermoles’, because back in the old days, they actually had trained badgermoles dancing with them!”

“That seems impossible,” Mako says with a frown. “How could anyone train a badgermole to dance? Aren’t they blind? How would they even see what the trainer is trying to teach them?”

“Mako!” Wu says with a theatrical gasp and a hand to his chest. “How closed minded of you. You know the great Toph Beifong herself is blind, and they say she played with Badgermoles as a child!”

“Did she dance with them?” Mako asks with a raised eyebrow.

Wu narrows his eyes and frowns. “I… don’t know. Maybe! Can’t rule it out! But just because they can’t see doesn’t mean they can’t learn to dance. I’m sure they can feel the rhythm!” Wu argues, shuffling his feet in some kind of facsimile of a dance.

Mako ponders that for a moment. It’s probably true, now that he thinks of it. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Mako shrugs in defeat.

Wu beams at him, and Mako feels his face grow warm at the sight. Spirits, why does that keep happening?

“You know Mako, I admire your ability to admit when you’re wrong!” Wu says.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mako rolls his eyes. “How much later will this festival go on?” Mako asks, feeling antsy all of the sudden. 

“Come on, we have to stay ‘til the fireworks!” Wu says in a pleading tone. “They go off just over the harbor right after sunset.”

“You like fireworks?” Mako asks carefully.

“I love fireworks,” Wu says forcefully.

Mako sighs in resignation. There’s a heavy police presence here today, including Hira and other former members of Wu’s security team. Mako doesn’t have any hope that he can even consider an attempt here. He’s trying to build enough of a rapport with Wu to entice him somewhere private or leave Mako alone with his food or drink, but Mako’s starting to doubt his plan. The Prince already treats Mako like a friend, but Mako doesn’t feel like the trust is there. 

Mako knows Wu is friendly and casual with so many people he comes across. But Mako can see there’s still a facade of camaraderie that Wu takes care to maintain with everyone he comes into contact with. Mako has only seen Wu relax and let that down a handful of times.

Staying for the fireworks means that they won’t return to the hotel til after dark, and that means Wu will retire to bed immediately upon returning to the hotel. The presidential suite will be locked and one of the rotation of officers on security duty will stand watch outside the door for the night shift. Mako will have to wait ‘til tomorrow to try again.

Oh well. He might as well enjoy the firework show, if that’s the case.

After the sun sets, all the festival goers make themselves comfortable as they wait for the fireworks show. Many people have brought picnic blankets or folding chairs. Wu manages to snag a seat on a stone bench. Mako sits next to him because… well, he’s not sure why. He’s been doing that more and more, sitting with Wu instead of standing and checking for threats. He's still on high alert, but there are officers everywhere here and Mako is probably better off staying close to the Prince. 

Yeah. That's why.

When the fireworks start, Wu is delighted . His eyes light up and Mako can see the reflection of the bursts of light in Wu’s eyes. It reminds him of…

It's the Lunar New Year, and Bolin had begged to see the fireworks. They had snuck into a festival just after sunset, finding a good vantage point to see the explosions of color in the sky. 

“That smells so good…” Bolin says wistfully as glances at a food stand. It’s selling kebabs, and the smell is amazing. “Do we have enough money to get some…?” Bolin looks up at him with pleading eyes. Mako’s heart lurches. He doesn’t need to check his pouch. He knows there’s not enough there for overpriced festival food. There’s barely enough for instant noodles from the corner store.

“Sorry, Bo. Not tonight.” Mako says, guilt and shame swirling around in his chest. Bolin barely contains his pout, but it’s quickly replaced by excitement as the firework show starts. Mako can barely pay attention, though. He keeps glancing at the food stand. Maybe…

“Bo, you stay right here,” Mako says sternly. “I mean it, don’t go anywhere, okay?”

Bolin looks at him with wide eyes, and nods slowly. Mako hurries away, lurking between other festival goers to make himself as small and unseen as possible. He carefully approaches the food stand, taking care to give a wide berth as he circles toward the back.

He creeps up to the stand, watching the owner closely. She’s got her back turned from the plate where the freshly grilled kebabs sit. Mako holds his breath, and carefully, oh so carefully, snatches two of the skewers from the plate. He turns on his heel and rushes away, quick and quiet as can be.

Not quick or quiet enough, it seems. There’s a yank on his scarf that pulls him back, and his heart nearly leaps from his chest in panic. He almost attacks, his fight-or-flight instincts taking hold, but he manages not to as he tries to escape the grasp.

“Just where do you think you’re going, you little thief?” The voice of the woman from the stand bellowed out, though it was barely audible over the bangs of the fireworks. Mako doesn’t respond, he just holds his scarf with his free hand to try and pull it free from her grasp. For a heart wrenching moment, he imagines unwrapping the scarf and leaving it behind to escape. Dad’s scarf. It’s all he has left of Dad, he can’t—

“You’re coming with me to the security station,” the woman says threateningly. “The police can deal with you.”

Mako feels panic rising up in his chest. No, no, no. Not that. He had barely gotten himself and Bolin out of the orphanage where the police had dumped them two years ago, after Mom and Dad had…

Mako can’t let anyone take him or Bolin back there. The caretakers were cruel and he’d seen too many kids get bloody and bruised from their ‘discipline’ when one of them would dare to do something like try and sneak into the pantry to get a few more scraps of food after being underfed all day.

Mako had gotten Bolin out as soon as he could manage. Sleeping on the streets was a different kind of horrible, and panhandling and dumpster diving weren’t exactly dignified ways to get by—but at least no one was hurting them.

Mako’s about to open his mouth, try and talk his way out of this, give the kebabs back and hope to the spirits—or the ancestors or the past lives of the Avatar or whatever higher power had abandoned him—that she’d let him go.

But before he can get a word out, a lanky man in a blue jacket saunters up

“Hey! There you are. Been looking everywhere for ya.” The man speaks casually, as though he and Mako go way back. A trickle of cold fear spreads down Mako’s spine. He and this man don’t know each other, but Mako recognizes him. He’s one of the Triple Threats. A Triad racketeer. Mako has seen him around, shaking down people for money. Mako has done everything he can to steer clear of the Triads. How fucking unlucky is he, that one is going to stroll up to him right now?

The woman narrows her eyes skeptically. “How exactly do you know this kid?” She asks angrily.

“Oh, this is my nephew!” The man lies breezily. The woman looks unconvinced, and rightly so. Mako is clearly not related to this man by blood—everything about him looks like he’s Water Tribe. “Come on, buddy. Let’s leave the nice lady alone. Don’t worry Ma’am. I got it—” He hands her a few yuans, enough to cover what Mako had grabbed. She frowns, but shrugs and shoots them both a displeased look. 

“Teach your ‘nephew’ he’s gotta pay before grabbing something.” She returns to her stand, watching over her wares more vigilantly than before.

Mako isn’t sure what to do. The man has a smile that sends chills down Mako’s spine. Mako swallows and resists the urge to throw fire and book it out of here. But he can’t, it would create a scene, and he can’t risk it. He also can’t run back to Bolin, and lead this guy right to him, nor can he run away and leave Bolin alone.

The calculations all lead to undesirable results, no matter what variables he adds.

“Name’s Shin,” the man says. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“What do you want from me?” Mako says in the most biting, intimidating voice he can manage. He knows it’s undercut by the fact that he’s ten years old and scrawny, but he hopes his scowl makes up for his voice nearly cracking.

“Not much, really. I was just thinking it looks like you could use some help. Maybe a little work, earn a little cash, so you don’t have to swipe snacks like that?”

Mako freezes. Mako avoids the triads, and he knows better than to get involved with the triads, to work for them.. Especially the Triple Threats. He knows they’re bad news. He knows they’re dangerous.

“I’m not interested,” Mako says as firmly as he can manage. 

“Hold on there, kid. Now listen, I’m usually a pretty charitable guy, but that’s kinda rude, don’t you think? I mean, you kinda owe me. I pulled you outta some hot water there, and you won’t even listen to my offer?”

Mako’s heart is pounding. Can’t make a scene, can’t run away, can’t run to Bo, what else can he do?

“Here,” Shin says, holding out a few more yuans. “Go get yourself and that little kid—what is he, your brother? Go get yourselves some sweets. My treat.”

Mako’s not stupid. He doesn’t take the money. But he’s now frightened. This man—Shin—has been watching him. How hadn’t Mako noticed? He knows about Bolin. It’s going to be hard to protect Bo if the Triads have got their eyes on them.

“Come on! Just take it. And know that there’s more where this came from. It’s easy money. What do ya know about the numbers game, kid?”

Mako eyes the yuans, and allows himself to glance back at where Bolin is standing in the distance. The fireworks burst overhead, bright and festive. When was the last time Mako could feed Bolin something hearty and filling and fresh like these kebabs, and follow it up with a pastry for dessert?

Mako’s heart pounds in his ears. He knows enough about the numbers game and the gambling rings. He’s seen other kids running betting slips and money to and from bookies. It doesn’t look difficult or dangerous, but he also knows the Triads are involved in much more nefarious activities.

Still, the promise of money coming in—money Mako didn’t have to beg for—is tempting. Too tempting. 

Mako frowns and locks eyes with Shin.

“Okay. What do I need to do?”

The fireworks burst in the sky, lighting up the sky with streaks of every color. Wu is fixated on the display, his eyes wide and bright. He makes little gasps of delight at some of the more elaborate explosions, and he’s got a soft smile on his parted lips. He looks… content. Happy, even. Mako never saw the point of fireworks, but he liked the way it made Bolin’s face light up. 

And now, he still doesn’t really get it—honestly, the loud booms and bright flashes of light in the sky make him want to avert his eyes and cover his ears—but he likes the way Wu’s face is lighting up right now. It makes his stomach flip and flutter.

Mako breaths in a deep, quiet breath and peels his eyes away from Wu. He’s got to stop staring. 

Suddenly, a woman’s voice is shrieking in anger. Mako looks over, ready to spring into action if there is some kind of security threat, but it’s just a woman with a mobile food cart… yelling at some kids. Her voice is shrill as she towers over them, cornering them against a nearby tree and making it difficult to run away.

Three kids’ clothes are tattered and frayed at the edges, and it feels sickeningly familiar—patches sewn on inexpertly, mismatched stockings. Their faces are weathered and their hands are calloused; they stand there empty handed and ready to run as the woman admonishes them for attempting to steal the cookies from her cart.

Wu notices the commotion, too, and apparently decides to intervene. He scurries over to the cart and Mako follows behind Wu as quickly as he can. He’s not sure what Wu is planning and for a split second, Mako thinks Wu is going to raise his voice at the woman running the cart and make a scene. 

Instead, he loudly asks for six cookies, pays her handsomely, and immediately turns around and presents them to the kids. He crouches down to their level as he carefully holds the bag of cookies out to them. The fireworks continue, illuminating the children’s hesitant and frightened faces.

“Now make sure you share,” Wu says to them in a firm voice. “Two for each of you, got it?”

The children look like wild animals ready to dart away at the smallest sign of movement. The smaller two look at the taller child, quietly asking permission. The older one nods carefully, accepting the bag of cookies. The three children scurry away, whispering excitedly amongst themselves as they disappear into the crowd. Wu turns back, completely ignoring the glare from the cart owner and flashes Mako a charming grin.

Mako can’t help the warm rush of affection that washes over him, nor is he expecting it. His body feels a strange sort of euphoria as he observes Wu’s generosity brightening the faces of children that remind Mako a little too much of himself and his brother. 

Mako stuffs it down the second he notices it. No, no, no. Just because Wu likes to treat people as if they’re best friends, and give money to panhandlers, and buy cookies for street kids, it doesnt change a single fucking thing. Mako’s still got to—

“Hey, big guy!” Wu says as he turns back to Mako. Wu tips his head curiously, a rainbow of light illuminating his face as the fireworks continue on. “You okay there? You look a little dazed!”

Mako coughs out a reply of fine, Wu shrugs, and returns to the bench where they sat before. Mako’s heart is pounding. 

It doesn’t change a thing, nothing Wu can say or do will change a thing. Nothing Mako might feel changes the facts, and the facts are: he has a job to do, and if he doesn’t do it, his brother is in danger.

Mako is a city dweller, through and through. He was born in the ironically named Green Meadows , he played on the industrial equipment with other children while all their parents worked, he lived on the streets for years, he is adept at navigating the complicated layout of Republic City’s streets, he knows which alleys are safe and which to avoid, and he can survive on his street smarts with ease.

Mako’s experience with wildlife is strictly limited to lizard-crows, rooster-pigeons, spider-rats and other creatures that thrive in an urban environment. 

And because he has never been to the Republic City Zoo before, he finds himself pretty much out of his element. Rabaroos, tigerdillos, turtle seals, hog monkeys and a wide variety of other animals lounge peacefully in the habitats, which are arranged in such a way that the guests can view the animals safely from behind fences or glass.

Wu, however, is more in his element than Mako could have imagined.

Wu flits from exhibit to exhibit, marveling at the creatures. There’s a zoo keeper with an iguana-parrot, giving guests the opportunity to feed it, which Wu excitedly and enthusiastically takes part in. There’s a pond with turtle ducks which Mako is certain Wu would swim in if it were an option, given how excitedly he leans forward. And there’s an impressive conservatory with a botanical garden. 

As soon as they enter the garden area, three butterflies flock to Mako, landing on his shoulders. It almost startles him, and he carefully shakes his shoulders to shoo them away.

It keeps happening, however, as they stroll through the garden. Everywhere he turns, butterflies dance through the air, right toward Mako.

Mako huffs, not quite annoyed, but a little inconvenienced. They keep flapping their wings near his face and ears.

Wu purses his lips as he tries to hold back laughter.

“I don’t understand why they keep landing on me,” Mako says with a scowl as he gently waves his hand through the air to send them scattering through the garden.

“It’s because you’re a firebender,” Wu says as he walks toward Mako slowly. He carefully reaches his hand up, extending his index finger and coaxes a bright orange monarch butterfly onto him.

“What does that matter?” Mako asks with a raised eyebrow.

“You run a few degrees hotter than the rest of us,” Wu explains. “Butterflies need to stay warm to fly. They’re attracted to your heat, that’s all.”

That’s sort of interesting, Mako has to admit to himself. Mako holds a hand out toward a flower bush nearby, where a bright blue butterfly has landed. It flits over to him immediately and lands on his knuckle. It’s interesting how bright it is. The monarch butterfly, too. Several other butterflies are darker in color, in shades of brown. Camouflage, Mako can guess. Blending in. Making themselves look like the tree bark where they rest. What purpose could the bright colors serve?

“You know a lot about butterflies,” Mako observes. “Why are some of them more colorful than others?”

“Aposematism,” Wu replies. “It’s a warning to predators that they’re poisonous.”

“They’re poisonous?” Mako asks, suddenly worried about having them land on him.

“Relax, tough guy. Poisonous to eat. Plus, most of them aren’t even poisonous, they just mimic the colors of other poisonous creatures.”

“Oh… What about the ones that have spots on their wings?” Mako asks, gesturing to one that landed on his upper arm. Its spots resemble eyes.

“More mimicry. The eyespots make them look like a dangerous predator, like a cat-owl. Butterflies are fragile. It’s their only defense mechanism.”

“Why do you know all of this?” Mako asks.

“Oh, just a few zoology electives at the University.” Wu shrugs as if that’s no big deal. “Come one, shake those butterflies off and let's go see the badgermoles next!”

Later, Mako holds back a groan as Wu leans his elbows onto the fencing that overlooks the badgermole habitat and serenades the badgermoles. He coaxes them out of the caverns that serve as their sleeping shelters with an off key rendition of a children’s nursery rhyme, “Where Has My Badgermole Gone”.

The badgermoles seem quite content to listen to Wu sing, even swaying along— dancing? Wu did insist badgermoles could dance. 

Mako’s never even seen a badgermole in person before, but here they are, practically dancing right in front of him and several other Zoo patrons.

Mako might find Wu’s singing voice a little grating, but the Badgermoles love it.

Mako has had a few moments, here and there, where he thought he could simply drag Wu into an alleyway and finish him off before anyone could interrupt. Wu keeps yanking him around, though, literally, as he grabs Mako by the arm and pulls him to and fro. Mako doesn't feel like he’s chasing Wu anymore, but he definitely isn't in control of the situation.

It’s frustrating. Mako is starting to feel desperate. He doesn’t like that feeling. He’s never had this much trouble finishing a job before. He supposes it was inevitable, this being an extremely high profile job that he has to approach carefully, but still. Why can’t Mako just get this over with? Mako has been at this for several weeks now, and it’s only going to be a few more weeks before Kuvira absolutely returns. Probably even less time than that, given how focused and determined she had seemed when she hired him.

And today, it’s made glaringly apparent how little time he has left.

Prince Wu doesn’t get invited to many meetings with other heads of state. Why would he? He’s a spoiled rich boy luxerating his days away, what business could the President have with Wu? But when it comes to important matters of the Earth Kingdom, it seems President Raiko must bring Wu into the meetings.

Mako’s heart pounds as he and Hira escort Prince Wu into City Hall, to the large meeting table in the main room. Wu takes his seat, lounging just as casually as he does anywhere else. Only this time, there are important people frowning at him in disapproval of his casual attitude.

President Raiko sits at the center of the U shaped table, more stern and stodgy than the photos in the paper do him justice. On either side of him, four men in traditional Earth Kingdom garb, all with hair of varying shades of gray and wrinkled faces with no laugh lines. Ministers and advisors, it seems. The men who plan to actually rule the Earth Kingdom, while Wu is little more than a figurehead. A puppet.

Mako wonders if Kuvira has plans for these advisors at the table. Maybe she’ll hire Mako to kill them too, once he takes care of the prince. (Assuming Mako doesn’t get caught.) 

The meeting is terribly boring as the President and the Earth Kingdom officials discuss things like tariffs and infrastructure expansion and budgeting. Wu barely seems to pay attention, and certainly doesn’t contribute. Then, the meeting takes a troubling turn—

“We’ve received word that Kuvira has made… Considerable progress.” The president says carefully. “She has one region left to bring under her purview: Gaoling. It’s expected that the Mayor will agree to her terms willingly, because she has taken control of the surrounding mountain range…

“The surrounding mountain range?” We asks, raising an eyebrow, suddenly engaged with the meeting topic. “The only thing of interest in the mountains beyond Gaoling is—”

“She’s moved on Zaofu,” one of the ministers says with an impassive face. The shape of his mustache accentuates the deep frown he’s had perpetually since the start of the meeting.

“Zaofu?” Wu’s posture changes instantly as he sits tall. “Zaofu is independent. Even my great aunt didn’t make any moves to control Zaofu. Suyin Beifong would never allow it.” There’s concern in Wu’s voice.

“My understanding,” President Raiko says hesitantly, “is that Suyin Beifong is currently… Detained.”

“What?” Prince Wu stands up, nearly toppling his chair over. “That’s not… She can’t do that!”

“She can, actually,” another advisor says calmly. “She has detained many people during her campaign to unite the Kingdom for you. Most of them are the very rebels that would see you meet the same fate as your family, so I suspect you’d be happy that we have empowered her to do so.”

“Suyin Beifong is not a rebel, or Red Lotus, or a threat to the crown or the Kingdom!” Wu argues with narrowed eyes.

“No, but the land Zaofu resides on is technically within the borders of the Earth Kingdom.” The oldest of the advisors says carefully. “She is, by the letter of the law, within her rights to bring it back under the sovereignty of the Crown.”

“But I—”

“Prince Wu,” the fourth advisor says in a sugary sweet voice, as if he were speaking to a child. “Zaofu is General Kuvira’s home. It’s quite natural for her to want it under the sovereignty of the Kingdom she serves. If it troubles you so, you are welcome to make a decree declaring Zaofu’s independence again, once you have assumed the throne and have absolute power.” 

“In fact,” The president says, “We expect that to be quite soon. General Kuvira has estimated that she’ll return to Republic City in three weeks. At that time, we will officially hold your coronation, General Kuvira will transfer power back to the royal family, and you will return to Ba Sing Se. With your trusted advisors, of course”

Wu is stunned into silence by the men’s wordy eloquence. He stops arguing and sits back. 

Mako’s insides churn slightly. These men have no idea. No idea that Wu will be gone soon, and that Kuvira would likely see them dead before allowing them to advise her on anything. 

Mako isn’t politically minded in the slightest. But don’t they see her machinations? Annexing an independent state and imprisoning its leader seems like an act of aggression that any political leader worth their salt shouldn’t tolerate. But the president of the United Nations seems perfectly happy to allow her to do so. 

Perhaps these advisors are too blinded by their happiness at the possibility of Zaofu being brought back under their power to realize Kuvira’s aggression is an act of defiance against the crown, against them. Maybe they’re going senile with old age. Or maybe they don’t care, about the Earth Kingdom, the monarchy, peace…

The president can’t be that stupid, can he? He can’t think that he and the other world leaders can simply give a person absolute power and then expect them to hand it back over. 

Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he just wants to placate anyone who’s in power over the Kingdom. It likely doesn't matter to him if that's Wu, these advisors, or Kuvira… Mako imagines, if the president has any political clout, he’s got contingency plans in place, so he’s prepared no matter who is in charge.

After the meeting, HIra leaves first to do a quick sweep of the street. Mako stays nearby as President Raiko approaches Prince Wu. Wu stands from his seat and glances at the president impassively. 

“Prince Wu,” President Raiko says in a slightly more upbeat tone. “I wanted to offer use of the presidential box at the Pro Bending arena this evening! My wife and I won’t be able to make it to the game and we’d hate for the seats to go unused.”

“Of course!” Wu says, plastering on a wide, fake smile. “How generous, thank you! Yes, I’ll gladly take advantage of it.”

Wu’s fake smile leads Mako to believe that Wu is well aware that the president is just trying to soothe his ruffled feathers. 

Wu is uncharacteristically silent as they exit city hall. The car is parked across the street, Hira standing nearby, waiting for Mako and Wu to indicate that it’s time to go. Instead of waving it down, Wu apparently decides to briskly cross the street to walk over to it.

Wu’s footsteps are heavy and his whole body seems tense.

“Wu, are you… uh… okay?” Mako asks carefully as Wu trudges down the steps and across the sidewalk.

“Of course!” Wu says brightly. Too brightly… Mako can’t see Wu’s face as he leads Mako forward, but he can hear that the cheer in Wu’s voice is fake. Wu reaches the edge of the sidewalk while Mako does his best to keep close.

“You sure?” Mako says as Wu steps off the sidewalk to cross the street. “You don’t seem—”

A horn blares, and tires screech, and Mako doesn’t think. He grabs Wu by the arm and yanks him back off the street just as a satomobile drives past, right through the space Wu had occupied a fraction of a second ago.

The satomobile peels off, the driver yelling some expletives, but it’s gone in an instant and Mako realizes after a few heartbeats that he’s got Wu tucked against him, with Mako’s hands gripping Wu’s arms tightly. Mako’s frozen in place and his heart is pounding. Why did he do that? Why did he pull Wu out of harm’s way? That could have been it, he could have reacted two seconds slower and the job would be done.

Instead, he has Wu pressed up against him, again.

Wu pulls himself out of Mako’s grip in a huff. “Why did you—” Wu cuts himself off with a frown. “You didn’t need to do that.”

Mako’s taken aback. Seriously? Wu’s annoyed with Mako for saving his life? 

“That car would have hit you if I hadn’t—” But Mako can’t finish his thought because Wu has turned on his heel and is walking across the street again. No cars fly past this time, but it’s not like Wu is crossing carefully, considering he’d almost gotten killed…

“Wu, wait,” Mako calls out, frustration and desperation bleeding through. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to the car!” Wu says, no longer injecting fake happiness into his voice.

Mako catches up with Wu, his heart still pounding. He still doesn’t know why he did that, why he saved Wu. Protected him. That was colossally stupid. What was he thinking?

Mako wasn’t thinking. It was just a reflex. Yeah, that’s it. It’s a natural reflex to pull someone out of harm's way. It all happened in an instant and Mako was just acting on instinct. It’s not like he was consciously trying to save or protect him! It was just—

Mako also doesn’t know why Wu seems upset about it. Obviously he’s distressed about Zaofu, but the way he yanked himself out of Mako’s grip… just a few weeks ago Wu had grabbed Mako by his hips and danced against him. Now he’s pulling away.

He’s supposed to earn Wu’s trust, find a way to get him alone. Mako would think saving Wu’s life would certainly garner him a little trust. Or at least gratitude.

But Wu is silent. No thank you, no fawning over Mako, no calling him buddy or sport or big tough guy. The entire ride to the hotel, Wu simply stares quietly out the window, brows furrowed and something close to a petulant pout on his lips.

And when Wu enters the suite, he doesn’t invite Mako in for dinner or ask him to keep him company. He just storms up to the door, throws it open and closes it behind him as he goes inside, saying he’ll be out in time for them to catch the Pro-Bending game.

“Wow. Never seen him pissed off like that,” Hira says, sounding almost impressed. “Guess he’s mad that he’s finally got to go back to Ba Sing Se.”

“What do you mean?” Mako asks with a frown.

“Oh, you know. Responsibility isn’t his strong suit. Plus, I’m sure all his advisors and the nobles will be throwing eligible women at him. Something tells me he’s not going to appreciate that.” Hira’s voice is steady without an audible hint of disgust, and Mako can tell she’s learned over the last few weeks that he’s not interested in gossiping about Wu.

Is that really what’s got Wu worked up? That his upscale life  with an approximation of freedom is coming to an end? That he’ll have to go to Ba Sing Se, be King, marry a woman simply because she’s a good political match and continue the royal line…?

Maybe. Still. He seemed more upset about Zaofu than anything else.

The car ride to the bending arena is silent as well. Mako’s not sure he can say or do anything, not with Wu’s sudden shift in mood. Truthfully, Mako’s not excited to go to the Pro-Bending Arena either. Too many memories. He was in a seating box when he watched Toza win that match, the one that changed the trajectory of his and his brother’s lives…

Mako makes a mental note to avoid drawing attention to himself. He’s not sure if Toza is at the arena these days, but he should still be careful since he’s been here before.

“Wu, are you… Okay? You’ve seemed really off since the meeting.” Mako asks once they are seated in the privacy of the presidential box. Mako could have stood guard at the door, but Hira’s on the outside and he wants to figure out what’s gotten into Wu, why exactly he’s so irritable all of the sudden.

Wu huffs. “Zaofu… She annexed Zaofu, I… I just can’t believe she did that.”

So it’s all about Zaofu? Not his impending coronation or everything he’ll have to face if he returns to Ba Sing Se? He’s really just concerned about Zaofu.

“Why do you care?” Mako asks with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve never even heard you talk about… Well, anything about governing the Earth Kingdom.”

“I care!” Wu said, his voice pitching up. “I may not be under any illusions that I’ll ever… rule, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care!”

“What do you care about Zaofu for, then?” Mako asks, confusion hitting him. “I mean, Kuvira is… doing good. Bringing resources and technology to all the areas she brings under her control. All you do is… I don’t know. Have fun.”

“Well excuse me if I want to spend what little time I have here enjoying myself and living my life!” Wu says, his voice pitching up defensively as a petulant pout forms on his lips.

“Do you even want to be king?” Mako snaps, surprised at the sudden desperation in his voice. “What have you ever done for the people of the Earth Kingdom, or Zaofu?”

Wu’s eyes widen and Mako realizes that he’s being argumentative and disrespectful. He practically yelled at a prince. What the fuck has gotten into him?

“Sorry,” Mako says stiffly. “That was out of line.”

“No, you're right. I… I deserve it. No one ever talks to me like that.” Wu frowns. “I know everyone thinks I'm a joke. And I’m aware I’ve never really done anything for the Earth Kingdom, and I can’t imagine myself being a truly good King. Honestly, I know I deserve to—” Wu abruptly stops, averting his eyes, and doesn't finish his sentence.

“You're not… a joke,” Mako says pathetically. “You… never expected to be next in line. But…” Mako struggles. Wu never asked for this. For any of it.

The realization hits him harder than he expects. 

Mako can tell himself that all his targets have it coming. Cheating spouses, cut-throat corporate executives, rival triads, corrupt politicians… It’s not like they were innocent. One way or another their actions led to someone hiring Mako to end them. 

He’s having a hard time telling himself that with Wu. Wu, whose family ‘shipped him off’ to distance them from him. Wu, who never had any intentions of taking the throne. Wu, who cares about his friends, and sings off key, and loves dancing and bad movers, and buys candy for children, and—

Mako feels sick.

“Why don’t you just abdicate?” Mako blurts out before he can stop himself.

Wu blinks at him incredulously. The box is silent, save for the noise of the crowd in the arena as everyone hypes up for the coming match. 

Abdicate. That’s a thing monarchs can do. If Wu abdicated, Kuvira could just take the kingdom and no one would be able to stop her. And maybe Mako wouldn’t have to—

“It wouldn’t change anything,” Wu says, frowning.

“What do you mean?” Mako asks. “Of course it would. If you abdicated, you could—”

“It wouldn't change anything,” Wu repeats. “Even if I did, I’d still—” Wu cuts himself off and snaps his gaze away from Mako and focuses on the arena. 

“You’d still what?”

“The match is about to start,” Wu says, ignoring Mako completely.

“Wu,” Mako says forcefully.

“Mako,” Wu says just as forcefully. “How about you stop worrying about the politics and you just do your job.” Wu furrows his brows and frowns at Mako.

Do your job.  

Wu has no idea what he’s saying. If Mako just does his job, Wu will be dead.

Wait. When did Mako start thinking in terms of ‘if’? He has to do this. There’s too much at stake. Bolin…

It's not fair, Mako finds himself thinking unexpectedly. He’s not sure why that thought crossed his mind—nothing about Mako's life has been fair. He learned that a long time ago. He hasn't bothered to internally rail against that unfairness in a long time.

But right now, it feels really, really unfair. 

Mako starts calculating, inserting variables and hoping for a more desirable outcome. What if Wu abdicates? What if Mako warns him that Kuvira wants him dead? What if he makes a run for it and tries to… what, find Bolin? Rescue him? Get him and run away together? 

Every scenario Mako concocts feels dangerous, risky, impossible, or pointless.

Because if Wu lives, it doesn't matter if he abdicates or not. He’s still the last Hou-Ting. He’d still be a threat to Kuvira, or to the Red Lotus, or to the anarchist rebels… They all want him gone, by virtue of his birth, his bloodline.

Someone is going to finish him off eventually. Regardless of what Mako decides to do. And if he decides not to do his job, he’s sentencing his brother to death.

No matter how he looks at it, the only thing he can do is…

Kill Wu.

Mako doesn't say a word the rest of the evening. He’s afraid of what will happen if he opens his mouth. Because right now, the same words keep circling through his head, repeating themselves like a mantra.

I have to kill Wu. I have to kill Wu.

I have to kill him even though he doesn't deserve it. I have to kill him even though he never asked for all this. I have to kill him even though I love him—

The realization startles him enough for his breath to catch. No, no. That's not right. It can't be. Mako doesn't actually have feelings for Wu, that's insane. No way, it's not possible—

But… As Mako watches Wu, the rest of the world fades into the background. The Pro-Bending match becomes a distant muffle as Mako’s eyes trace over Wu’s melancholy expression. He doesn’t want Wu to suffer. He likes it when Wu smiles. He likes the feeling of Wu’s body pressed against him. He gets a wave of affection every time Wu demonstrates his generosity. His chest grows hot and protective when he thinks of harm coming to Wu. His heart feels like it’s fluttering when Wu gives him that sympathetic look of the shared experience of loss. His body buzzes in exhilaration when Wu is happy—

Mako has never imagined what being in love must feel like. Why would he? He’s been careful to compartmentalize, to keep himself closed off so he can’t hurt anyone by dragging them down into his world. But he doesn’t have to imagine, he realizes. It’s happening. This is what it feels like. The longing and the wanting and the belly flips and the chest that feels like it’s on fire. 

I have to kill Wu even though I love him.

It’s the most painful thing he’s felt since leaving Bo. Since his parents died screaming.

Love has only ever brought Mako pain. 

Chapter Text

Wu’s coronation has been scheduled, his advisors have begun planning the ceremony, and the president has made arrangements at City Hall. In little more than a week, Kuvira will be here. And Wu hasn’t been doing much of anything. He’s been partying and flirting and dancing, but Mako can see that every smile is fake. He’s still been going out, but there have been fewer impromptu adventures—Mako feels like he’s going crazy, because he’s missing these stupid adventures Wu takes him on. 

Mako knows his window is closing. He’s got to get this done soon. He’s procrastinated long enough. He keeps fighting back those feelings, pushing them deep down so that he can just clear his fucking mind and get this over with.

Mako has decided that getting caught isn’t a concern. He just has to get it done. Forget the poison. He needs to get into Wu’s room and just do it. If he gets caught after the fact, so be it. At least the United Nations doesn’t have capital punishment. Maybe life in prison would be a nice retirement. 

Of course, knowing Zolt, Mako probably wouldn’t get so lucky. He’d probably pay someone off to get Mako out. Keep Mako on his leash, at his beck and call. Or, wouldn’t it be funny if Kuvira—once she took permanent control of the Earth Kingdom—managed to extradite him. Capital punishment is still widely used in the Earth Kingdom. Naturally, she’d be under political pressure to try and execute the person who finished off the last Hou-Ting. And Mako wouldn’t be able to expose her as the one who hired him. Not with Bolin under her authority.

Mako tries not to imagine a public execution with Bolin watching. He’d rather hang himself in a prison cell than have that happen.

There would be a positive side to dying for his crimes. They say your soul passes through the spirit world after death before moving into the unknown beyond, into the afterlife. Mom and Dad’s souls would be long gone, but maybe Wu’s would be there. Wu would hate him and Mako’s sure Wu wouldn't forgive him even if Mako begged; but if Mako could see him again, maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad.

So essentially, it doesn’t matter if he gets caught or escapes, if he’s free or imprisoned, if he lives or dies; it doesn’t matter because Bolin would be safe. If he got caught, Bolin would know, of course, he’d learn all the horrific things Mako had done, but he’d be alive.  

Mako’s going to do it tonight, he’s decided. Not more fucking around and hesitating and waiting for the perfect moment. 

After the dinner party Wu has to attend tonight, Mako’s going to get rid of Hira. He doesn’t want to kill her too, so hopefully he can just knock her out and force his way into Wu’s room. Mako might have to resort to violence—bending maybe, or just his bare hands—but he’ll end it as quickly as possible. He doesn’t want Wu to suffer. 

The dinner party is in the suburban edges of the Harmony Park District, at the home of Commissioner Chao, a member of the utility commission overseeing water and electricity operations in the city. Mako really fucking hates the Utility Commissioners. They’re always tossing around thinly veiled insults and contempt, treating the help like they’re nothing, and Wu always seems uncomfortable around them. 

Commissioner Chao is exceptionally unpleasant. She’s the kind of person with her nose in the air at all times, complaining about trivial things—the sparkling wine at a reception is either too chilled or not chilled enough. A server made too much or too little eye contact with her. Her valet parked too close or too far from the venue. Mako dreads escorting Wu to any event that she’ll be present at, and he is especially miserable now that he’s here at an event she’s hosting.

Mako lurks in the corner of the large, lavish dining hall in Commissioner Chao’s mansion, barely listening as the guests chit-chat about inane things. Mako idly wonders how a government employee can afford such a huge home—maybe her husband makes a lot of money. Or maybe she’s involved in some shady business dealings. Plenty of politicians in the city have triad ties, though Mako is pretty sure she’s not on Zolt's payroll.

“Well, I heard The Avatar is missing,” Chao says with her wine glass in the air. “No one knows if she’s even alive.”

“Now now, don't be so dramatic!” Another commissioner says. “I happen to know she’d been sending letters to her family. But she was dishonest about where she was, claiming to be in the city!”

“One has to wonder what her motivations were.”

“Young folks today are always talking about ‘finding themselves’. My grandson is always trying to get out of responsibilities that way. Perhaps she’s simply avoiding her duties as Avatar!”

Mako feels an indignant ball of anger well up in his chest at their gossip. Mako knows from the news and from a letter from Bolin that the Avatar had been badly injured. Acting like she was a spoiled child who simply didn't want any responsibilities was a pretty fucking big misrepresentation.

Wu is silent, barely picking at his food, swirling his wine glass but never taking a sip.

“You must be terribly upset, Your Highness,” one of the men at the table says. “It’s unlikely The Avatar will be in attendance at your coronation, given no one even knows where she’s run off to.”

“Oh I’m hardly worried!” Wu says, plastering on his fake smile and leaning forward. “It’s not as though the Avatar’s presence is necessary.” He sits casually in his chair, just as he always does, slouched slightly as he leans forward and puts his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his interlaced fingers. Mako knows by now that placing one's elbows on the table is poor etiquette. But Wu also knows that. He’s intentionally displaying poor table manners.

“True. Still, it’s unbecoming. The Avatar is supposed to bring balance, and she’s off traipsing around who-knows-where!” 

“Yes, and let’s not forget the mess she left behind. I’m still financially recovering from the spirit vines that overtook my factory," Chao's husband says with a wrinkling of his nose.

“Compared to the Legacy of past Avatars, it’s been a very disappointing era, hasn’t it?” Chao says after sipping her wine, her focus zeroing in on Wu’s elbows.

“The return of airbenders strikes you as a disappointment?” Wu asks with a tip of the head, interrupting their string of complaints.

“Of course not, but it’s not as though she meant for that to happen. An accident. Not like her predecessors' legacies. Avatar Aang founded the United Republic of Nations. That was no accident. Avatar Kyoshi’s accomplishments were also quite intentional, in spite of her… proclivities.” She sneers, distaste evident on her face. An all-too-familiar sight.

Mako scowls, though not a single person at the table pays him any mind. He’s just as invisible as the rest of the help. He can’t escape bigots, no matter where he goes. At least after tonight he won’t have to see any of these assholes again. Mako swallows, refocusing his mind, turning his plans over in his head. Once this dinner is over, once he and Wu return to the hotel, Mako will finish this job once and for all.

“Kyoshi’s… proclivities.” Wu repeats, his voice dripping with ire. “You’re referring to her relationship with her bodyguard?”

“Naturally,” Chao says as she takes a sip of wine. “No disrespect toward her. But it was quite scandalous, I imagine. Perhaps it would have been better, at the time, for them to simply keep that to themselves.”

“You certainly have some opinions on Avatar Kyoshi’s life,” Wu observes.

“I simply think it tarnishes her legacy a bit, all things considered. She was The Avatar. Engaging in a “relationship” with a woman.” Chao says, putting air quotes around the word relationship. As if Kyoshi’s relationship hadn’t been real. “She should have focused on her Avatar duties instead of carousing around like that.”

“Perhaps,” Wu says casually, “Avatar Kyoshi would have had some things to say about you neglecting your duties.” Every guest at the table jerks their head in Wu’s direction, some of them gasping quietly in surprise.

“I beg your pardon?” Chao’s eyes are narrow and angry. “I’ve never once neglected my duties as a member of the utility commission. It’s rather rude for you to imply otherwise.”

“Ah yes, you haven’t neglected your work, it’s just that you’ve conveniently neglected the code of conduct required of you.” Wu swirls his wine glass again, studying the pale gold liquid intently as he speaks. “Tell me, Commissioner Chao. How much does your vote cost? Do you only take bribes from triads, or is your integrity available for anyone to purchase?”

The table goes silent. Mako knows enough about this world, these people, the upper echelons of society, to know that Wu saying such things outright is a social debacle. These people don’t do that. They tiptoe around, they gossip, they’re subtle.

It’s why Chao’s comments about Kyoshi, which might seem harmless enough to the untrained ear, are akin to a slap on the face. As long as she keeps her bigotry veiled, she has plausible deniability in polite company. And suggesting her words might be harmful is viewed as an overreaction, because she didn’t outright say anything incriminating.

“Now see here,” Chao’s husband stands up, red faced and fuming. “That’s an outlandish accusation you’ve made!”

“Would you say it’s more, or less outlandish than if I were to point out that you're sleeping with your wife’s secretary?” Wu says as if it’s a common subject to discuss at dinner. The table breaks out into hushed gossip, murmurs as the other guests act scandalized by Wu’s directness. Which is bizarre to Mako, since they act more scandalized by Wu outright saying such things than they do at the very likely possibility that what Wu accused them of is true.

Still, Mako realizes that in this world, the upper class, in politics, it’s brave to break social mores to shut down someone’s bigotry.

A stupid rush of affection washes over Mako. It’s ridiculous, because it’s not like Wu was defending Mako, he’s just defending himself, since the jabs at Kyoshi’s sexuality are clearly meant to target Wu himself. 

Mako has to shove that feeling back down, because he’s got a job to do.

Abruptly, Wu stands. “Dinner has been delicious. Please give my compliments to the chef. It’s too bad the company ruined an otherwise delightful meal.” Wu promptly turns and walks away. Another level of directness that will likely bar him from any more social occasions with this particular circle of individuals.

Mako has to hurry to keep up his pace with Wu, who briskly walks out of the dining room, ignoring a butler who attempts to open the door for Wu. Wu grabs his jacket off of a coat rack by the door and drapes it over his arm. He exits the front door with Mako following as closely behind as possible.

It's dark out by now, and Wu hastily hurries down the walkway toward the detached garage and driveway, where Wu’s valet awaits him in the car.

“Wu?” Mako asks against his better judgment. “Are you… okay?”

“I'm fine.”

Mako knows that's a lie. He’s clearly upset, but what can Mako do about it? He shouldn’t do anything, but he hates this, hates seeing Wu like this, downcast and despondent. Wu’s only got a few hours before Mako has to… Spirits. Mako doesn’t want him to spend his last night miserable.

“You really put the Commissioner in her place.” Mako says, hoping the compliment will brighten Wu’s mood.

“Hm,” Wu hums absently, scarcely responding.

“Was all that stuff you said true?” Mako prods further, hoping to break Wu out of his melancholic state.

“Of course. It's not like it was a surprise to anyone. Plenty of people at the table already knew. I just said it out loud.” Wu shrugs as if bribery and adultery are common occurrences in his social circles. They probably are.

“Oh. Well. Everyone seemed shocked," Mako observes.

“Of course they did. It’s completely taboo to blurt it out like that. But who cares? It's not like it matters.”

“What doesn't matter?” Mako asks, furrowing his brow

“What I say, what I do. None of it matters.” Wu's voice is uncharacteristically steady and low.

“Why would you think that?" Mako asks with a raised eyebrow. "O f course what you say and do matters. And I'm glad you talked to her like that, even if it was… Bad etiquette, or whatever. I mean, it's hard to speak up for yourself with people like that…” 

Mako huffs in irritation, thinking of all the times he’s had to endure comments, particularly from Shin. Mako didn't always have Zolt there to put Shin in his place, and especially when Mako was younger, he didn't feel like he could speak up and defend himself. It was awful.  

“It's just…” Mako continues “I know what it's like, that's all.”

“No you don't.” Wu says curtly.

“What?” Mako blinks, taken aback by Wu’s response

“You don't know what it's like, so can we not do this?” Wu sighs. “This thing where you act like you care or understand?”

“...What?” Mako furrows his brows, trying to understand Wu’s meaning. “What do you mean, I don't know what it's like? Why would you—”

“You're straight.” Wu interrupts Mako bluntly. “So please don’t pretend like you know.” 

Mako stops in his tracks, hesitating. It’s not the first time someone has assumed he was straight. Maybe he should tell Wu… no. Why should he care about this? He's going to kill Wu. Tonight. This entire conversation is ridiculous. Mako should just shut his mouth and focus on what he needs to do. Get Wu back to the hotel, get Hira out of the way, and kill Wu. 

Instead, Mako’s stupid mouth opens and blurts out, “I'm bisexual.” 

Wow, that was idiotic. What the fuck is Mako thinking? This always happens with Wu. Mako blurts out so much personal shit to this man.

Wu spins around and faces Mako with an oddly defiant look in his narrowed eyes. “No, you're not.”

What? That’s not the reaction he was expecting.

“Uh, yes. I am.”

“You're lying,” Wu says with irritation in his voice.

“Why would I—” Mako pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Why on earth would I lie about that?”

“Because you—” Wu cuts himself off and falters. “I mean, obviously I'm—and you're trying to…” Wu scrambles for his words. “Well obviously you've figured out that I'm gay—not that you need to be some kind of detective to guess that— and you're…”

Wu doesn't finish his sentence, he just lets it hang in the air.

“Well, I'm not lying.” Mako folds his arms and scowls.

“You pushed me away! That night, at the speakeasy. I thought you might… I tried to dance with you and you played along until I got too close and then you pushed me away!” Wu’s voice is growing frantic as he explains himself. 

Mako’s heart pounds. “Because… I'm your bodyguard, I didn't want to…” Mako reaches for a reason that doesn't incriminate himself. “…complicate things.”

Wu huffs. “I can’t believe you… Now you want to…?”

“I want to what?” Mako asks, confused at Wu’s frustration.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” Wu says forcefully. 

Once again, Mako’s caught off guard. What? Where did Wu get that idea? Why would he—

“I wasn’t suggesting that!” Mako balks. “Spirits, Wu. Just because I’m… Well it doesn’t mean I want to—”

“I want to go back to the hotel,’ Wu interrupts, saving Mako from having to lie and say he’s not interested in Wu at all. Mako’s completely thrown off-balance by Wu’s behavior, his accusations. 

They walk to the car, the ride back to the hotel, the elevator ride to the top—they’re all terse and silent. Mako’s head is swimming.

They approach the door to the presidential suite where Hira awaits their return.

“You're back earlier than I expected, Your Highness,” Hira observes.

“I'm not feeling well,” Wu says curtly.

“Oh. Well, should I send for a healer?” she asks with a tip of her head.

“That won’t be necessary. In fact, you’re dismissed for the evening. Mako’s going to handle security overnight.”

Mako’s taken aback. What? Wu never mentioned that. What is he—

“Uh, what do you mean?” Hira raises an eyebrow. “Is that—”

“I’ve decided to hire Mako on as full time close protection,” Wu says, much to Mako’s confusion. No such decision was made, what is Wu doing? “In preparation for my return to Ba Sing Se and for the time when Republic City Police will no longer handle my security. So you’re dismissed.”

Wu’s voice is forceful in a way Mako hasn’t heard often. Mako is still puzzled by Wu this evening, but it suddenly occurs to him that this is it. This is the opportunity he’s been waiting for. Wu has just dismissed Hira. No other security is on site except for hotel security on the ground floor. Mako won’t be interrupted, he’ll be able to—

“Are you sure?” Hira asks Mako, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Of course.” Mako says simply. “I’ll take it from here. Enjoy your evening off duty.” He keeps his voice and his posture in a perfect display of professionalism.

Hira eyes the two of them suspiciously, then shrugs. “Alright, security is yours for the night. There will be an officer arriving at the hotel in the morning to handle any security sweeps needed on location for your plans tomorrow.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Wu stares at her expectantly without entering the suite. She looks confused for a moment, but finally turns and leaves her post to head toward the elevator. She gives them one last wary glance before the doors open and she steps through.

Now that Hira is gone, Wu unlocks the door and enters the room silently. He leaves the door wide open, which Mako assumes to mean that he should follow him. But Mako’s feeling confused and overwhelmed by Wu’s behavior. He’s acting closed off and erratic. He’s not making sense. Mako closes and locks the door behind him and watches as Wu pulls a bottle of wine from the entertainer’s beverage station.

“Uh, Wu? What was that about? Why did you dismiss Hira? What’s going on with you?”

Wu doesn’t answer. He pulls out a wine glass and pours. He fills it well past the point that a wine connoisseur would deem ideal. Mako’s never seen Wu drink more than sips, so he’s perplexed about how much wine he’s apparently planning to drink.

Maybe if Wu drinks to excess, Mako’s job will be easier tonight.

“Wu, are you just going to ignore me?’ Mako asks, frustrated. “Why are you—”

“I’m going to take a shower before I drink this,” Wu interrupts.

Mako blinks in confusion. “Uh. Okay…?”

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” Wu repeats his earlier statement. Mako is no less flustered by the statement as before, but he manages to reign in his reaction.

“I know, I didn't think—”

Wu simply turns and walks away. Out of the living area, into the master bedroom. He shuts the door, and Mako hears the click of a lock. Mako is still for a moment, trying to understand and process what Wu is doing. He hears another door shut, the door to the ensuite, and then the sound of running water.

Mako stares at the glass of wine.

This is it.

He said he would do this tonight, and he expected to have to resort to violence. But he can follow through with his original plan. Poppy and Oleander. The painless combination of deadly poisons that will simply make Wu fall asleep and pass peacefully. Mako might not even get caught, it would look like natural causes. And if anyone suspects poison, it’s nearly impossible to prove as long as Mako gets rid of the evidence.

Mako approaches the door and listens to make sure Wu isn’t going to burst out at any given moment. He holds his breath and hears the sound of the shower, and notes the ways he can hear the water splashing on the tiles irregularly. The sound of Wu, in the shower, water hitting his body before splashing onto the floor. 

Mako won’t be interrupted, not for several more minutes at least. Knowing Wu, maybe a half an hour or more.

Mako approaches the beverage station. The lone wine glass sits on the lavish countertop, a deep, blood red wine in the glass. Perfect. The poisons are colorless, but they aren't quite tasteless. But red wine masks the flavor seamlessly, the full, rich flavor concealing the bitterness better than a white. 

Mako reaches into his jacket pocket. Two vials. Unassuming, unlabeled, but he knows which is which by sight alone. Mako’s heart pounds. It’s going to be painless, Mako tells himself. Wu won’t suffer. He’ll fall asleep. No pain. He won’t suffer, he won’t suffer…

Mako starts to unscrew the lid of the poppy extract, but he has to pause. His hands are shaking. If he opens them like this, he’ll just spill liquid. Mako sets the vials down on the surface next to the glass of wine. He takes a deep breath and flexes his hands a few times, trying to steady the trembling. It doesn’t work. 

That’s fine. He leaves the vials on the table and unscrews the first one, letting the surface steady his grip and keep the vial upright. He removes the lid, carefully setting it down next to the vial. He opens the other bottle the same way. Deep breaths, Mako reminds himself. This has been the most difficult job he’s ever taken, but right now, getting it done is easy. He just has to pick up the vials and pour them into the wine.

He stares at the poison, at the glass. The dim light of the suite reflects off of the glass in a way that is hauntingly beautiful. He clenches his fists again to control the shaking. More deep breaths, and this time he looks deep within, clears his mind, gets control over his chi, wills his body to behave the way he wants. 

The trembling finally stops.

Mako still hears the splash of water on the tiles behind the doors.

He picks up the first vial. 

He holds it over the wine.

All he has to do is tip his hand. Pour it in. so simple. So easy.

His hand doesn't move.

Okay. He’s calm. His mind is clear. But that's not enough, it seems. He needs motivation.

He forces himself to think of Bolin.

Bolin. Bolin crying in Mako’s arms. Bolin lighting up at the sight of fireworks. Bolin bringing out the best in everyone he meets. Bolin growing up, achieving his dreams to become a pro-bender. Bolin befriending the Avatar, becoming famous, traveling the world, making a difference, doing good…

Ever since the night their parents were killed, everything Mako has done was for Bolin. Mako loves his brother so fiercely, so deeply, and if something were to happen to him, Mako knows he wouldn’t be able to go on. 

Kuvira’s words ring in Mako’s head. Something bad could happen.

Just pour the fucking poison in the wine, Mako tells himself. 

Wu won’t suffer, he’ll just sleep, no pain, not like how Mom and Dad died, quick and easy, just do it, just…

Tears well up in Mako’s eyes. He blinks them away as best he can, vision blurring. He swallows the lump in his throat. Guilt and shame wash over him, though he can’t tell what from. The fact that he’s hesitating when his brother’s life is on the line? The fact that he’s determined to do it anyway even though Wu never asked for this, did nothing to deserve it except be born to the wrong family? 

Mako feels like his heart is being ripped in two. Maybe Mako should just drink the poison. Maybe Kuvira wouldn't harm Bolin if Mako simply died before he could finish the job. 

Maybe the whole fucking world would be better off with Mako gone.

Mako’s hand is steady as he holds the poison over the wine, and he can still hear the splashing on the tiles. 

He pulls his hands away. 

He can't do it.

A horrible feeling spreads through his chest. He's been lying to himself for so long. Told himself he had been procrastinating because he was looking for the perfect moment. But the perfect moment is here and now, and he just can't fucking do it.

He loves Wu too much. 

Mako puts the lids back on the vials and tucks them back into his pocket. He walks to the sofa and sits down, hunching over with his elbows on his knees and his hands in his face.

Mako has put Bolin in danger. He has to do something. He's already pondered all the options and none of them would work, as far as Mako can tell. How can he warn Bolin without tipping off Kuvira?

She’ll obviously know Wu is still alive by the time she arrives, but would she wait before following through on her threat? Bolin would come with her, right? He’s expected to be at the coronation. If Mako could just get to Bolin, he could just tell him that his life is in danger… Or, what if he tells Wu? Warns him? If he tells Wu that Kuvira wants him dead, he could do something to better protect himself. If the world knew what Kuvira was, if Bolin knew, he could protect himself from her—

Mako feels the lump in his throat return. It's so risky. He hates that he’s gambling with Bolin’s life. It’s not fucking fair.

Mako tries not to think of his parents. Of what they would think of him. He knows they’d be horrified at all the things he’d done. But would they be horrified now? He’s taken so many lives, all in the name of protecting Bolin, of keeping his brother safe. But now he decides to risk Bolin’s life because he’s selfishly in love with Wu? He loves his brother, how can he possibly decide his love for Wu is more important?

What would Mom and Dad say, if they could see him right now? All his memories are filtered through the eyes of a child. Mom was gentle and kind and safe, and she always seemed like she knew the right thing to say. Dad was sturdy and steady and fun and affectionate, and he was always quick to swoop in and fix problems.

Would they be angry that Mako wasn’t doing what was necessary to protect his brother, their child? Would they tell him he’s selfish, that he’s already done horrible, awful, evil things, but stopping now just because he has feelings is an unacceptable risk to Bolin’s life?

Or would they… understand? Maybe Mom would hold him and wipe his tears and tell him she loves him anyway. Maybe Dad would ruffle his hair and kiss him on the head and tell him the exact right answer for how to deal with this horrible mess his life has become.

The faint sound of water running and splashing stops.

It’s silent for some time. Minutes pass and Mako hears footsteps coming from the bedroom. Finally the door opens. Wu pads out, wearing a plush bathrobe. His hair is relaxed and curly, his eyes are soft in the gentle light of the suite. Mako just stares at him silently, overcome with so much regret and longing and terror and pain that he feels like his heart might stop.

“Wu,” Mako manages to croak out. He’s not sure what he’s going to say. But he has to tell him, right? He has to tell Wu the truth, about why Mako’s here, about how dangerous Kuvira is, about how Bolin is under her thumb and Mako’s terrified for his brother’s life.

“Mako, don’t.” Wu frowns and walks over to the wine, staring at Mako intently. “Just stop.”

“No, Wu, you need to listen—”

“I don’t need to do anything! You need to stop! Stop making me feel like this, like I’m going crazy! Stop acting considerate, stop acting like you care and that you like me and that—” Wu sucks in a sharp breath as he cuts off his own rambling. “I just… I meant it. I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Mako scoffs, feeling frustrated that this is the third time Wu has said he's not going to sleep with Mako. Of course Wu isn't going to sleep with him, nor should he!

“Why do you keep saying that?” Mako asks, still seated on the sofa. “I never suggested that we—”

“I would have, if you'd decided on that tactic right from the beginning!” Wu throws his hands up in the air. “When I first met you, I didn't care if you actually wanted me or not, it would have been fun! But then you had to go and start acting like you actually cared… Spirits help me. I don't want you like that anymore. Not if it's not real!”

Mako is struggling to understand Wu’s logic and follow Wu’s train of thought. He tries to speak but the words are stuck in his mouth. He needs to tell Wu to warn him, but Wu’s barely letting him speak, rambling how Mako is lying about caring—

“I just… I just have one question.” Wu’s eyes go downcast as he reaches down and picks up the wine glass. “Will it hurt?”

Mako blinks. He furrows his brows, suddenly feeling like he’s on the verge of something unsettling—

“Because I have nightmares, you know?” Wu continues, his voice pitching up frantically. “About how my great aunt died—slowly gasping for breath.” Wu clutches at his throat. “And about the riots and the way they killed the rest of my family. I just… The pain, that’s all I’m scared of. Will it hurt?”

“Will… what hurt?” Mako asks, his mind suddenly blank as he senses he’s miscalculated and misunderstood something here.

Wu snaps his head in Mako’s direction, brows furrowed and an angry, indignant frown on his face. 

“The poison you put in this wine!”

What?

Shit. Fuck. No, no no no. No way, how could Wu have known? And why isn’t he…? Wu’s just standing there, holding the wine glass, like he’s still going to drink it even though he thinks that Mako—

“You know what? Nevermind. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I’ll just lose my nerve,” Wu says, and he tips the glass into his mouth, drinking quickly. He downs half the glass in one drink before setting it down with a sharp intake of air.

“I didn’t poison your wine,” Mako says with horror and desperation. He doesn’t understand, why would he still drink it if he thought that Mako had poisoned it?

Wu scoffs like Mako is being disagreeable. “Mako can we stop pretending? I’m not stupid. I know exactly why you’re here. I knew it the second I saw your fake employment file, before you even set foot in this hotel. And you’ve had those vials in your pocket since day one.”

This is insanity. Wu knew. He knew the whole time. He knew Mako’s plans, and he knew Mako has been carrying poison, and he thinks Mako went through with it, poured the poison in his wine and he drank it anyway. Wu thinks he’s going to drop dead, painfully, any moment. 

No. No, no. 

Mako’s hesitation is gone as he gets up and hurries over to Wu. Wu doesn’t even flinch. He just squares his jaw and glares at Mako silently.

“No, no, Wu, I didn’t poison your wine, I… I couldn’t!” Mako scrambles to pull the vials out of his pocket and drops them on the surface. They clatter on the marble counter and roll slightly before coming to a stop in front of Wu. “They’re full. I didn’t use them.” Mako says, his voice shaking. He needs Wu to know that he’s not about to die right now.

Wu is silent as he stares down at the vials, then back up at Mako suspiciously.

“Oh, for spirits’s sake—” Mako grabs the glass of wine and chugs the rest of it down in one drink like Wu did. “There. See? I didn’t poison it. I swear.”

“Why not?!” Wu asks, his voice pitching up in confusion and, weirdly, outrage. “You were alone with the glass for at least twenty minutes! What, did you have trouble unscrewing the lids or something? Wha—”

“I couldn’t do it, I just… I can’t do that to you, Wu.” Mako’s heart is pounding.

“This is crazy!” Wu says angrily. “Why wouldn’t you just—” 

“You’re right, this is crazy!” Mako says, his own voice growing loud and frantic. “If you’ve known the entire time why I was here, why didn’t you… Tell someone? The police? The president? Your advisors? Anyone?”  

“Why bother? I’ve been a dead man walking for three years.” Wu says, almost shouting. “The moment the Red Lotus sparked a whole revolution against the Monarchy, I knew I wasn’t going to live long! And I could tell from the time I met General Kuvira that there was no way she was going to hand over power to the likes of me! Zaheer's followers, revolutionaries, Kuvira—Sooner or later, someone is going to kill me!”

Mako’s stomach twists in alarm. Not only has Wu known this entier time, he…

Expects it.

Wu expects to die. He’s completely resigned to it. It’s horrifying, it’s unacceptable. Wu is so bright and kind and generous and friendly and fun, and he's just ready to die at any moment. Wu doesn’t deserve to die, and he certainly doesn’t deserve to expect death to come for him at any time.

“So I figured,” Wu continues. “I might as well make the most of my time! Live the life! Do whatever I want! At least what I can get away with in police custody. And when I saw that ‘Commander Guan’, Kuvira’s number one lackey, recommended a private security officer for the job, I thought ‘hey, this won’t be so bad! Less police custody, a little more freedom. So what if Kuvira obviously hired him to kill me? Maybe I can have a little fun! ’”

“Fun,” Mako repeats incredulously. “You knew Kuvira hired a hitman and you decided to have fun.”

“Yes!” Wu says defensively. “Why waste my time fighting off the inevitable?”

“So you just… let me work for you. You let me escort you all over town, you let me eat with you, dance with you, and—”

“I thought you were trying to seduce me!” Wu says frantically. “And believe me, at first, I was game! Why not go out with a bang?” Wu lets out a huff of a laugh at his own words. “But you pushed me away, so I figured you just chickened out of that tactic!”

Mako lets out an upset sigh, unable to articulate his jumble of feelings. “I pushed you away because I had the vials in my pocket. I thought you’d notice them, that I’d have to explain, and I—”

“I noticed them long before that night,” Wu interrupts. “I’m not an idiot! I mean, I certainly wasn’t going to make it easy for you to poison me! But then you had to go and…” Wu wraps his arms around himself in a tight, defensive hug. “I kept telling myself you were faking it all, you just wanted me to let my guard down. You were just acting like you cared.”

“I wasn’t acting,” Mako says softly, heart aching. He told himself he was just trying to get Wu’s guard down, but he’s cared about Wu for a long time. Longer than he’d like to admit. Mako’s brain has a flurry of thoughts blowing around, and he can barely catch hold of any of them. Wu takes a step toward him, minimizing the distance between him and Mako. Mako can’t think, can’t talk. 

The words are on his lips. He doesn’t know if he should say them, if he can say them.

But spirits does he want to…

Wu’s staring at him, with some suspicion. Not enough suspicion, all things considered. But Mako has already said so much, too much, and he might as well tell Wu everything…

“I love you, Wu.” There. It’s all out in the open now. Mako’s job and Mako’s feelings. 

Wu’s eyes widen, suspicion falling from his face. Mako doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but there’s something warm and ardent on Wu’s face. Mako swallows as he waits for Wu to react.

“I changed my mind,” Wu says softly. 

Mako doesn’t know what he’s talking about, what he’s changed his mind about, but Wu is closing the distance between them. Mako holds his breath, as if he’s trying to make time stand still. Wu inches closer and closer and Mako can feel Wu’s breath in the space between them,

Mako’s pulse drums in his ears and he parts his lips, exhaling the air he’d been keeping inside. That's all the invitation Wu needs.

Wu pitches forward and their lips meet, and Mako feels the world crumble to pieces around him. There's nothing but Wu, and Wu overwhelms all of his senses—he smells like soap and he tastes like wine and his body is steady while Mako trembles. Wu moans into Mako's mouth and Mako can't even look at him because he knows he'll be destroyed if he looks into Wu’s eyes.

Wu’s hands find their way to the back of Mako's neck, and his soft fingertips send shivers down his spine. Mako’s heart might leap from his chest were it not for Wu pressed against him.

Something inside of Mako snaps. He clutches onto Wu by the waist, feeling the sharp lines of his hips and noting the way Wu gasps into his mouth when he tightens his grip. Wu’s body is completely flush with Mako’s, and Mako feels Wu grind into him—

Oh. Mako just realized what Wu changed his mind about.

Wu swallows up every noise Mako makes. Every nerve in Mako’s body feels like it could catch fire. Wu’s pulling Mako closer, gripping his shoulders by the fabric of his uniform. Wu peels his body away from Mako, much to Mako’s disappointment, but then he realizes that Wu is leading him toward the open door to the bedroom.

They pass through the threshold and Wu breaks the kiss long enough to fall backwards onto the bed. Mako goes with him, bracing his hands on either side of Wu’s head. Wu’s hands leave Mako’s shoulders and deftly start unbuttoning the stays on Mako’s shirt. Now that he’s laying on his back, Wu’s robe has fallen open, ever so slightly, exposing skin in a way that feels much more indecent than all the times Mako has seen him barely covered by a towel at the spa.

Mako can’t stop himself; he tugs at the ties on Wu’s robe while Wu unbuttons the last buttons. Mako snakes his hands inside the robe, running the pads of his fingers along Wu’s ribs. Wu lets out a shudder at the sensation and Mako wants more, more. More of Wu’s shudders and more of Wu’s skin and more of Wu’s mouth and less clothing between them. No clothing between them. 

Mako shrugs off his jacket and Wu tosses it aside. Mako peels his lips away from Wu’s just long enough to yank his undershirt over his head. Wu’s fingers find their way to Mako’sbelt and Mako sucks in a gasp when Wu palms over his arousal through the fabric— spirits Mako can’t take it anymore.

Wu arches his back and the robe falls the rest of the way open. Wu presses his cock against Mako’s and damn that fabric in the way, Mako really needs to get his pants off.

Wu’s hands wander and rub and caress Mako’s chest, and suddenly Wu flips them with an unexpected force, considering how slender he is. Now Wu is straddling him, his robe open but still hanging off his shoulders, his body on display.

Mako yanks Wu’s robe down from his shoulders and runs his hands down Wu’s arms, relishing every inch of velvety soft skin. Wu finally shrugs the damn thing off, and thank the spirits he pulls Mako’s belt off, unfastens the buttons of his pants, and together they pull them off completely.

Now they’re both completely bare—everything laid out for each of them to see. Their bodies, of course, but their secrets too. Wu knows. He knew the whole time. Mako’s job, the reason he’s here, Wu knows it all and Mako’s never felt more naked than he does right now. He’s so exposed, and he’s never done this before. He’s never been honest with someone, he’s never loved someone and let them know him like this.

Mako knows Wu’s secrets too. His loneliness and how he’d completely given up, resigned to having his whole life controlled, having no say in anything, not even his own death. Wu has worn a mask the whole time Mako has known him, slipping occasionally and giving Mako a glimpse of who Wu really is. But that mask is gone now. Wu’s just as exposed as Mako, though, unlike Mako, Wu has nothing to be ashamed of.

“Mako,” Wu says in a breathy, sultry voice that sends another wave of arousal and longing through Mako’s body. “What do you want…?” 

“Anything, anything you want to do,” Mako says in a desperate plea. He means it. Mako’s not even sure what he himself wants. He’ll do anything Wu wants, anything Wu asks. 

Wu shudders as he exhales a quiet breath. Wu leans in and presses his lips to Mako’s ear, sending a wave of goosebumps down Mako’s body. He moans and whines as Wu drags his lips along the jawline and down the side of his neck. He reaches the collarbone and Mako gasps sharply as Wu nips lightly at the sensitive skin.

Wu’s hands wander down and the combined sensations of Wu’s lips and teeth on his collarbone while his hands caress down his sides are almost too much. Mako moans out loudly as he grips the bed sheets tightly.

Wu gets a hand between them and Mako gasps as Wu grips his cock tightly, his perfect hand with its long slender fingers wrapped around the length. Wu starts stroking in a slow, steady rhythm, and Mako finds himself rocking into it.

“Mako…” Wu’s breath ghosts against Mako’s chest. “Mako, do you want… do you want to fuck me?” Wu asks quietly, and there’s such hesitation and trepidation in his voice, and it makes Mako worried because there was nothing enthusiastic about the way Wu asked. 

Mako grabs Wu’s face in his hand, bringing his chin up so he can stare into Wu’s eyes. “I can, but… I usually don’t…” He’s careful with his words, if Wu wants that, he’ll do it, without question. But now that Mako has Wu’s fingers wrapped around him and Wu’s cock pressed against him, Mako can’t help but imagine what Wu would feel like inside of him. “Do you want to fuck me?”

Wu’s face relaxes, much to Mako’s relief. “Yes, definitely yes.” Mako swallows hard, his arousal pulsing under the attention of Wu’s hand.

Wu rolls off of him, fishing in his nightstand drawer, producing a small bottle of oil. Instinctively, because he’s done it that way for years, Mako rolls over onto his hands and knees.

“Whoa, hey, big guy,” Wu says softly as he nudges Mako into facing him. “Not like that, I want to see you, please?”

Mako feels his face grow hot even as something grateful wells up inside of him. This is new, Mako’s never—

Wu gently shoves him onto his back again and wastes no more time. He slicks his fingers up and presses another kiss to Mako’s lips. Wu’s hand is between his legs, searching. The oil is cool and Mako shudders at the sensation of Wu expertly circling his fingers around his entrance.

“This okay?” Wu asks, like it matters. Like Mako is deserving of consideration. Mako nods, another rush of affection overwhelming him. 

Mako clenches his eyes shut as he feels Wu’s finger breech him. Wu is generous with the oil, slicking him up inside and out as he slowly thrusts in and out of Mako. Another finger, and then Wu curls them, hitting Mako’s sensitive nerves just right. Mako lets out low whine and jerks his hips slightly, seeking more.

It’s not long before Mako is softly begging, “More, Wu, fuck, please, more…”

Wu gets a third finger inside of him, and it’s so good, the way Wu seems to know exactly what Mako wants, exactly what he likes. “Touch yourself,” Wu commands, and Mako obliges.

Mako draws his legs up to give Wu easier access and the angle gives Wu more leverage to press firmer, deeper. Mako gasps as Wu curls his fingers in a particular way, sending a jolt of pleasure through him from the inside out.

“Fuck me Wu, please, please—”

Wu pulls his fingers out, dragging them along Mako’s prostate one last time, causing Mako to throw his head back into the pillow. Wu slathers the oil onto his cock and presses his slicked up erection against Mako’s opening.

Wu is met with resistance, but Mako relaxes into it. He’s stretching and burning and It’s overwhelming as Wu fully sheaths himself inside and leans his head down to pepper kisses along Mako’s neck and jaw.

Wu is slow at first, watching Mako’s every reaction as he pulls out slightly, then presses back in. Wu’s hands are braced against the mattress on either side of Mako’s head. Wu brings his head back down, pressing his lips against Mako’s, kissing him deeply. The newness of this catches Mako off guard. He’s done this plenty of times, but never like this, never being held, being kissed.  

Mako's heart hammers in his chest and he feels it, feels everything. He can feel the pleasure building into something bigger and brighter than he has ever felt before. Wu’s lips don’t leave him and Mako knows he’s moaning and whining into Wu’s mouth but Wu seems intent on smothering the sounds Mako is making. Not to keep Mako quiet, but to weave Mako’s sounds with his own.

Wu rocks and thrusts and rolls his hips steadily, and Mako can barely move except to grope desperately at Wu, clinging to his back. Mako’s cock is pressed tightly between them, slick with precome and sweat, getting just the right amount of friction and stimulation with each motion.

Mako is on the brink, he’s teetering over the edge. It’s too much, he’s going to—

Mako’s climax rushes through him, pulling from his center tearing outward. He erupts between them, and lets out an unguarded sound that he’s fairly certain has never come from his throat before. With anyone else, Mako might feel humiliated at the way tears trickle from his eyes. But with Wu, he just feels relief.  

He knew from the moment he met Wu that he wanted to touch Wu like this, to be touched like this. But Mako didn’t actually know what it would be like; he didn’t realize how it would feel; he couldn’t have anticipated the waves of affection and the desperate need to cling to Wu.

The aftershocks are overwhelming, and Mako breathes in a huge gasp of air when Wu finally pulls their lips apart. Wu mashes his forehead against Mako’s as they cling to one another—Mako gripping Wu’s back and Wu clutching Mako’s face—and then Wu is coming and the sounds he makes are everything Mako didn’t know he wanted to hear.

Mako can barely catch his breath as he and Wu pant through the ebbs of pleasure. Mako’s brow is sticky with sweat and tears have dripped down into the folds of his ears and his release coats his stomach. Wu peppers kisses all over Mako’s face, spending extra time and attention to the corners of Mako’s eyes. He kisses Mako’s mouth again, and it’s like kissing the ocean with Mako’s saltwater tears on Wu’s lips.

There’s no going back from this, Mako realizes with a painful lurch of his heart. Mako thought he couldn’t have killed Wu before? Now that he’s had Wu against him and tasted his lips and fallen apart with Wu inside of him, he can never do it. 

Mako knows there are a million things he should say, things he needs to say. Things like you need to run away from me and never look back, and please don’t ever leave me, and we can never be together, and lets run away together, and—

“Mako…” Wu finally speaks, his voice a careful whisper. “I love you too.”

Mako’s startled by the words. He sits up, prompting Wu to sit back on his haunches. “No, no, Wu, you don’t love me—”

“Yes I do!” Wu says, his lip jutting out slightly into that indignant pout, the one that Mako has started crumbling at the sight of. “You can’t just tell me how I feel!”

“Wu, you don’t know me. You can’t—”

“What do you mean I don’t know you? I know you better than you ever realized!” Wu asks, flabbergasted. 

“No, Wu, you really don’t,” Mako says firmly. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Wu scoffs. “I know you weren’t lying, when you told me things about yourself. Maybe I don't know everything, but I know enough! I mean, what else is there for you to tell me? What your favorite color is? C’mon, Mako.”

“Wu, you don’t know what I’ve…” Mako closes his eyes, wishing he didn’t have to do this, wishing he didn’t have to lose this brief moment of happiness. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“You’ve killed people,” Wu says, and Mako’s sure he meant to sound confident but Wu’s voice shakes as he says it. “Right? You’re not an amateur. Kuvira wouldn't have hired an amateur.”

Mako’s heart pounds. He has to tell Wu everything now. Even if it means Wu runs away and turns him in to the police.

“I’ve killed twenty-three people,” Mako says, more bluntly than he means. 

Wu’s eyes go wide. Mako’s shame wells up inside of him and he resists the urge to cling tightly to Wu. Wu should have the chance to get away if he wants to, even though Mako selfishly never wants him to go.

“Twenty-three,” Wu repeats in a breathy, disbelieving voice. “That’s—how long have you been doing this?”

“Since I was fifteen,” Mako answers. Wu’s cautious disbelief vanishes and is replaced by something horrified.

“You were a child when you started!?” Wu’s shocked.

“Wu, I haven’t felt like a child in a long time. Not since I was eight.”

“You were eight when… your parents died?” Wu hands find Mako’s chest, resting his palm on Mako’s beating heart. “You’ve been on your own since then?”

Mako’s tears threaten to return as a lump grows in Mako’s throat. He wasn’t alone, not back then…

“I have a brother,” Mako chokes out. “He’s two years younger than me and I… I took care of him.” Mako tries not to let the tears spill. He hates talking about Bolin. It always hurts.

“You were a child taking care of a child, and you—how did you even start doing this?”

“I work for a Triad. The Triple Threats. I started working for them when I was ten, I didn’t have many choices, I had to take care of him and it was steady money and—”

“Mako,” Wu climbs Mako’s lap with his legs bracketed on either side of Mako’s hips. He clutches Mako’s face in his hands. “Oh, Mako… That’s… You were so young! You never should have had to—”

“I have to tell you something,” Mako says desperately. “Kuvira, she hired me, you were right about that, but… there’s more.”

“More?” Wu lets go of Mako’s face and rests his hands on Mako’s shoulders instead. Mako’s never had this before, someone holding him like this, listening.

“I made a deal with my boss when I was fifteen. I started doing hits, and my brother was out. Untouchable. Completely off limits to the Triads. I had a chance to get him out, and he had an offer to stay at the pro-bending arena.”

Wu furrows his brows. “So you… let him go.”

“I had to, I couldn’t go with him and I couldn’t make him stay and go down the same path as me, he’s… He’s good. He’s a good person and he was better off without me, and I did what I had to do to protect him.”

“And…” Wu says softly. “If you tried to get out… they’d go after your brother.”

Mako nods. “But Wu, you need to know—My brother, he’s… His name is Bolin. He’s done amazing things. He was a pro bender, and friends with the Avatar and a mover star and—”

“What!?” Wu interrupts, almost falling off of Mako’s lap. “You’re not serious. Your brother is Nuktuk? Mako, that’s—” Wu cuts himself off, a realization settling across his face. “Bolin. He joined the Earth Army. He’s all over the recruitment posters and he works side by side with General Kuvira…”

“She threatened him,” Mako says in a whisper. “When she hired me. She promised to protect him from any fallout if I was ever caught, but she threatened him if I didn’t get the job done.”

Wu flinches minutely, which Mako feels is an underreaction to the entire situation. But Wu corrects immediately and leans in closer to Mako.

“We have to do something, get him out of there, get him away from her—”

“I know, I’ve been over it a million different ways in my head but I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to—”

“Oh Mako…” Wu presses a kiss to Mako’s lips. It’s nothing like how they were kissing before—that was all desperation and wanting—Wu’s kiss now is soft and affectionate. “I don’t know either, but… Ancestors help me, I love you and I’ll do anything I can, I’ll—”

Mako interrupts Wu by kissing him again. Now that he’s felt Wu’s lips against his, he wants more. “I love you, I don’t understand how you could love me back, and I don’t know what to do, I’m so scared and I feel like I’ve sentenced my brother to death and—”

“Kuvira and her whole inner circle are supposed to come in for the coronation,” Wu says, his eyes focused as he brings his finger and thumb to his chin in thought. “What if I… President Raiko always wants to placate me with whatever inane things he thinks will make me defer to him. What if I told him I wanted Bolin to come to the city right away? As soon as possible? To play some major role in the ceremony, and practice. Or just that I want to meet him because he’s a mover star or something? Raiko would do that if he felt I'd be a more amenable puppet for it.”

Mako’s pulse races. “It’s so risky. Kuvira might figure it out, and I…” Mako takes a deep breath. “I had a time limit. She wants you gone before the coronation, so she can just keep her power without fuss. Every day it gets closer and she must know something is off.” Mako suddenly, alarmingly , wants to bury his face in Wu’s neck and hold him. Be held. This new vulnerability is terrifying and Mako doesn't know how to deal with it. He doesn't know how to ask for such things.

Mako doesn't have to, though. Wu wraps his arms around and holds him tight. How does he know what Mako wants at this very moment? Mako never noticed, but Wu has known how to read Mako the entire time he’s known him.

“I wish I could say it’ll all be okay,” Wu says as he runs his fingers lightly through the back of Mako’s hair. “I don’t know what we’ll do, but I want to help you, to figure something out…”

Mako leans into Wu’s embrace, burying his face into Wu, just like he wanted. Mako can’t remember the last time someone held him. Comforted him. He’s been alone for so long, hiring people like Xing to take the edge off his miserable loneliness, pushing away people like Lin Li who dare to remind him of all he’s lost, isolating in his shithole of a home to hide away from anything that might bring him joy, because he knows he doesn’t deserve any better.

“Hey, big guy. We should get cleaned up, yeah?” Wu gently pulls away and cradles Mako’s face in his hands. Wu runs his thumb under Mako’s eye and wipes away a stray tear that Mako hadn't noticed escape. “Then we’ll come back to bed. Get some sleep. Figure things out in the morning…”

Wu’s lost it, drinking wine he thought Mako had poisoned, letting Mako into his bed, telling Mako he loves him… Inviting Mako to literally sleep with him.

And Mako knows deep down that none of this will end well. But he’s had a taste of happiness and he wants to savor it as long as he can. And maybe, just maybe, he and Wu, together, can figure out a way to keep Bolin safe.

For the first time since he was eight years old, Mako lets himself hope.

Chapter Text

Mako hides behind Dad. His heart is racing. Mom’s against the wall, and the mugger holds a flame close to her, too close. Bolin clings tightly to Mako's arm, biting into the skin almost painfully. Mako’s too scared to even cry.

“Just empty your pockets and no one gets hurt,” the man says. Mako can’t see his face, he’s just a scary shadow in front of the orangey-red glow of the dagger-shaped fire. Mako doesn’t know how to do that with his firebending, maybe if he did he could help…

Dad’s calm, so calm. He stands in front of Mako and Bolin, and Mako knows it will all be okay, Mako just has to do whatever Dad says. 

Mako clutches Dad’s scarf, the scarf that Dad had just wrapped around him a few minutes ago. 

Mako had thrown a fit before they left the house that evening. He didn’t want to wear his coat, it wasn’t that cold out. Mom and Dad gave up after Mako had refused. But later, when the sun went down and it got cold, Mako started shivering. Dad didn’t say ‘I told you so’. He just bent down and wrapped his scarf around Mako’s neck.

Now, Mako holds on to it tightly, clenching his fingers around the fabric so hard that his knuckles are white.

Dad pulls his wallet out of his pocket, but it drops out of his hand. The mugger startles, but holds the flame steady. Mom’s got her head turned and her eyes clenched shut at the heat. Mako feels Bolin whimper as he squeezes Mako’s arm.

“Pick it up! Slowly!” the mugger shouts at Dad. Dad’s got his hands in the air and slowly crouches down to pick up the wallet. Mako is shaking.

“Mako, you run when I say,” Dad says softly. “You hold onto Bo’s hand and you two run and don’t look back.”

Mako doesn’t understand… Dad’s going to protect them, right? Why will Mako and Bolin have to run? Mako feels tears welling up in his eyes and his heart pounds in his chest.

“I said pick it up!” the mugger shouts, and the flame jumps. Mom cries out in pain.

“Mako, run!” Dad shouts. 

Everything happens so fast, it’s a blur. Dad’s moving fast toward Mom. The mugger lashes out with big flames, bigger than anything Mako has ever made with his bending. Bigger than Mako could try to stop—

Dad told him to hold Bo’s hand and run, so Mako yanks Bolin and runs as fast as he can, as fast as he can without making Bolin fall. They run down the street, hand in hand. Mako can hear Bolin panting, and Bo almost stumbles, but Mako holds tight and stops him from stumbling so they can keep running.

Screaming rings out through the air, and even though Dad said not to look back, Mako can’t stop himself. He looks over his shoulder just as the screaming reaches its peak. He’ll never be able to forget it—the bright orange light from the fire, the awful burning smell, the sharp, short shrieks of pain.

He keeps running, he holds Bolin’s hand tight and he runs as fast as he can. Bolin’s crying but Mako knows they have to get far away, somewhere safe.

Mako sees an alleyway and runs toward it, trying not to yank Bolin off his feet. They stop running and catch their breath for a moment, and Mako knows he shouldn’t, but he peers around the corner.

He shouldn’t have looked. The fire is dying down and the mugger runs away, panicking at the horrible scene. It’s dark as the fire goes out, but the dim street lights illuminate enough to see their bodies fall to the ground—

Bolin wiggles out of Mako’s grasp. “Mom? Dad?” Bolin’s voice is small and frightened. 

No, no, no. Bolin shouldn’t see this. Mako grabs his brother and hugs him close, pressing his face against Mako’s chest, covering his ears with his arms as best as he can. He holds Bolin and hides him from seeing Mom and Dad, their burnt, limp, lifeless bodies…

Mako feels like he could get sick. 

“Don’t look back, Bo,” Mako says with a shaky, tearful voice. “Look at me.”

Bolin glances up at Mako, tears streaming down his face. 

Mako doesn’t know what to do. He pulls Bolin back into his arms. He feels so small. Mako holds onto him tightly. He holds onto Bolin and he doesn’t let go. Not right now.

Mako’s eyes open, and it takes him a moment to get his bearings. He has a body tucked against him, and he clutches tightly, still half in his nightmare where he holds on to his brother with all his strength. The rising sun has freed Mako from his nightmare, his memories. The memories he forces himself not to think about during his waking hours, which, unfortunately means that sometimes they surface while he’s sleeping.

But he’s awake now, and he can make himself forget again.

It’s Wu he’s holding, Mako realizes. Wu’s back is tucked against Mako’s chest. The light of the rising sun is mostly blocked by the bedroom curtain, but there’s enough for Mako to see the shape of Wu clearly up close. Mako lifts himself up carefully on his elbow, peering over at Wu’s sleeping face. His mouth is parted, every muscle in his face is relaxed, and the ends of his curly hair stick out. This is what Wu is like before he fixes himself up, before he dresses himself in finery and coifs his hair to perfection. A little messy, a little unrefined, and with quiet snores.

Mako relaxes the arm he has draped over Wu’s side. He brings his hand up to the side of Wu’s sleeping face and carefully runs his knuckles against Wu’s perfect brown skin.

He starts at Wu’s jaw and trails his finger up toward his temple, feeling the combination of soft skin and rough stubble. Then he touches Wu's hair, carefully feeling the soft waves, combing his fingers through the strands.

Wu stirs and Mako freezes, not wanting to wake Wu up. He doesn't want this moment to end, he doesn't want to face the consequences of what he did last night. 

Fuck. He slept with Wu. 

Not only had he slept with Wu, but Mako had told Wu everything —the truth about what Mako is, why he’s here, what’s at stake, and his feelings for Wu. He’d fully expected Wu to run. Turn him in. Recoil in horror.

But Wu had just… held him. Loved him. Mako certainly doesn't deserve it, but it was so easy to let it happen.

Wu made it even more impossible for Mako to kill him. And that means Mako is in an impossible situation. He doesn't know how to protect Bolin like this. Kuvira will be here in several days, and Mako hopes that he can get Bolin out of her clutches before it's too late.

Wu stirs again, this time shifting and turning over. He presses his face into Mako’s chest, and Mako feels the brush of his eyelashes against his skin as his eyes flutter open. Part of Mako is sure Wu will regret last night, that he’ll scramble away from Mako in horror. Wu should do that. 

Wu tips his chin up and slowly blinks awake while looking at Mako. Mako holds his breath, his heart pounding suddenly as he knows that last night had been too good to be true—

“Morning, big guy,” Wu says instead, a small, sleepy smile on his face. 

“Wu…” Mako says, a tremble breaking through into his voice. Wu reaches a hand out and places it gently on Mako’s face, rubbing the soft pad of his thumb over Mako’s cheek. Mako closes his eyes and relishes the feeling of being touched so tenderly.

“It feels early…” Wu says, pressing his body closer to Mako. Wu’s skin is warm, and Mako gives in to the impulse to clutch onto him tightly. “I guess it’s dawn, huh? That thing about firebenders rising with the sun…”

“Yeah,” Mako says softly. “It’s true, usually. The dawn always wakes me up no matter what.” Mako holds back a shudder as Wu trails his fingers down to his side, lightly caressing his ribs. 

“Hmm,” Wu hums contently. Mako’s heart pounds as he waits for the inevitable. For Wu to slip away from him and escape when he has the chance.

It doesn't happen. Not yet anyway.

“Are you… okay?” Mako asks carefully, afraid to hear the answer.

Wu’s brows scrunch up delicately. “‘Okay’ seems like a… subjective word right now.” He pulls away from Mako slightly and sits up, stretching his arms high above his head and yawning. It shouldn’t make heat curl in Mako’s core, but Wu’s sleep ruffled hair, bare skin exposed, and sheets pooled in his lap in a way that looks utterly enticing. How does looking at Wu always do that to him?

“Yeah,” Mako agrees softly, averting his eyes. “I’m not sure what okay even means, if I’m being honest.”

“I don’t think either of us has been okay for a while…” Wu says, reaching his hand out and brushing aside some stray hair from Mako’s forehead. The light brush of his fingers against Mako’s skin makes him shiver, and he wants to lean into it, to feel Wu’s touch more.

Mako’s still propped up on his side, leaning on his elbow, but Wu lightly shoves him by his shoulder to coax Mako onto his back again. Mako goes easily, so easily, and when Wu leans down and presses his lips against Mako’s, he gives in to that too. Wu straddles Mako’s waist; Mako’s hands find their way to Wu’s hips and he holds on tight. Wu’s kiss is slow and lazy, and Mako never knew there were different ways to kiss—hungry and desperate, gentle and tender, or leisurely and intoxicating. Right now, Wu kisses Mako like he wants to savor it, to draw it out as long as possible.

After who-knows-how-long, Wu pulls back, sitting up on Mako. He doesn’t weigh much, but he’s solid and sturdy on top of Mako’s abdomen. Wu traces his hand down Mako’s cheek, then his jaw, then his neck. His hand trails along further, tracing the muscles from Mako’s neck to his shoulder, and hesitating over the scar.

Mako doesn’t say anything as Wu examines the scar, but he notes the slow realization that forms in Wu’s eyes as he splays his fingers out slightly to match the handprint shaped scar to his own hand. 

“Who did that to you?” Wu asks softly.

Mako heaves in a slow, deep breath. “My boss. The leader of the Triple Threats. They call him ‘Lightning Bolt’ Zolt,” he answers quietly.

“How old were you…?”

“Eleven.”

Wu’s eyes grow wide. “Why? Why would he—”

“To teach me a lesson,” Mako answers.

“What possible lesson could this teach?” Wu says, his voice steadily rising in indignation.

“To push through the pain.”

His fingers trail all over Mako’s upper body, tracing the rest of the scars with increasing distress. “And each of these?”

“Fighting ring,” Mako answers. Wu raises an eyebrow.

“That’s real? I thought that was made up for the movers.”

“No, it’s real. Sometimes I’d need extra yuans, and that was the easiest way for me to earn a little on the side—”

“What? Why would you need extra yuans… Doesn’t your… job pay well?”

“Sort of…” Mako says, shifting uncomfortably. “My cut isn't very big,” Mako admits. He’s really laying it all out for Wu, isn’t he?

Wu’s brows knit together and he’s silent for a moment as he contemplates that answer. Mako’s skin tingles where Wu’s fingers have been caressing him. Mako’s breath betrays him as he exhales shakily at the feeling of Wu’s touch.

Everything about this morning feels surreal. Like a fantasy his mind might make up to dissociate from all the horrible things he’s been through. If the feeling of Wu’s weight wasn't so tangible, if Wu’s eyes weren't so sharp and clear, Mako could mistake this for a dream.

“How much for me?”

“What?” Mako blinks, not understanding Wu’s meaning.

“How much was your cut going to be for killing me?” Wu asks, and Mako’s stomach churns anxiously again. There's no trepidation in the way Wu asks the chilling question. With everything that’s transpired, Wu’s either very brave, or very stupid. And Mako knows by now that Wu isn't stupid.

“A million yuans,” Mako says carefully. “She was going to pay four million, and I get twenty-five percent, so—”

“Twenty-five percent!?” Wu's voice is teeming with indignation. “You're the one doing the work, and your boss takes three-quarters of your earnings? That's unbelievable!”

Mako suddenly has to stifle a laugh that threatens to escape. After all that, after learning the whole truth and facing the reality that Mako is supposed to kill him, Wu's outrage is about wage theft, of all things. It’s bordering on absurd.

“It's not like I do it for the money,” Mako says lightly. It’s odd, the way they're talking about this. Mako feels a weight lifting from his chest with every passing moment.

Not that any of this is actually funny, but Wu is making something hopeful rise up inside Mako's chest. Talking about his work so candidly and discussing the possibility of getting Bolin out of harm's way is making Mako feel, for the first time in his life, that he might have a chance. A chance to get out with his brother safe and sound. A chance to leave it all behind. 

It's dangerous to think that way. In spite of the hopefulness, Mako still feels uneasy, knowing that things will probably go horribly, terribly wrong. He has to let that unease stay just under the surface to temper the blind optimism that's threatening to take over.

“A million yuans is a lot, though,” Wu says casually, still sitting on top of Mako. Wu might as well be talking about the weather, or what his plans are for lunch. There's not a hint of fear in his voice. “What were you going to do with it?” 

“I had a few ideas,” Mako says, his heart pounding. “Contingency plans if things ever went south—a car, fake IDs, a safehouse somewhere outside the city. Or maybe a bank account for my brother. A lawyer on retainer for him, in case I'm ever… caught… None of what I've done should fall on him.”

Wu frowns. What's he thinking? Second thoughts about whatever it is that’s started between them?

“You weren't going to spend any of it on yourself?” Wu asks with a raised eyebrow. “Nothing a little bit… selfish?” 

Mako swallows. It’s weird for Wu to ask that. But everything about this is weird, so what does Mako know? 

“I’d probably fix up my apartment,” Mako says cautiously.

“Boring,” Wu says in a disinterested tone. “ One million yuans, and all you can think of is home renovation? Come on.”

“What? I want a nicer shower,” Mako says defensively.

“Mako, if I were to die, I’d want my death to mean something!” Wu sits forward and presses an index finger to Mako’s chest. “If I was watching you from the spirit world, I’d want to see you spend it on something indulgent.”

Mako is about to call Wu crazy, to tell him he's really losing it to talk about his own potential death like that, but suddenly Wu’s lips are on Mako's neck again and Mako can't help but gasp. Wu's soft lips and clever tongue drag down Mako’s neck, and Mako is achingly hard in no time flat. 

Wu’s arousal presses against Mako’s stomach as he drags kisses further down. Wu hesitates for a moment, then lifts his face just enough that his breath ghosts against Mako’s skin. 

“Well?” Wu asks in a sultry voice. “A million yuans. Something indulgent. Go.”

Mako can’t quite put his thoughts together, not while he’s so heady with arousal, so he says the first thing that pops into his head.

“Glass sculptures,” Mako blurts out. Wu lifts his head and raises an eyebrow. Mako isn’t sure what Wu was expecting Mako to say, but when he thinks of indulging in something, he thinks of all the beautiful glass-blown figurines and sculptures in Lin Li’s shop. He loves the way they sparkle, and the colors that splay across the wall where the sunlight shines through them. He’d buy them all, if nothing else in the world mattered.

Wu contemplates Mako's answer for a moment.

“You’re something else, you know that?” Wu says quietly. Then he brings his lips down to Mako’s scar. Wu kisses it gently. Lovingly. Like Mako’s a child who just needs a kiss to make everything better again. Mako tries not to let his heart ache with longing for a simpler time, when a kiss really could make his world right.

“I love you,” Mako says before he can stop himself. His voice is raspy and his heart is pounding in his ears, but Wu simply drags his kisses lower and lower…

Mako’s ability to compartmentalize any of this has already been destroyed, but as Wu works his tongue all the way down to Mako’s hardness, he loses his senses. Wu’s presence bleeds into every part of his consciousness. Every feeling Mako has bites and gnashes and gnaws its way free from where he’s been trying to keep it caged in his heart.

For now, every frightening thought and all his unease are banished as he just lets himself feel good.

He doesn't deserve it. But he lets it happen. He closes his eyes and lets out a shaking breath as Wu’s lips tease at him, then he lets out a loud gasp as Wu’s mouth envelops him. He’s quickly overwhelmed by the sensation as Wu’s clever tongue curls around his length. His body is buzzing all over, and heat starts curling in his core. He looks down and sees Wu bobbing his head mercilessly at a steady pace. His heart leaps in his chest as he yearns for more.

Mako pushes himself up by an elbow so he can see it all, because he doesn’t want to miss a moment. Wu’s curls hang down over his forehead, so Mako reaches down and runs his fingers through Wu’s hair, pushing his bangs back. Wu’s lush green eyes look up through his lashes, igniting Mako’s desire further, if that’s even possible. Mako almost loses his composure right then, especially as Wu brings his hand between Mako’s legs and gently fondles Mako’s balls, and the stimulation is too much.

Wu’s completely focused on him, on bringing Mako pleasure. Not because Mako’s paying him, but because he loves Mako. Wu loves him, Wu loves him—

It’s enough to send Mako over the edge. Wu’s hands and his mouth and the fierce look of desire in his eyes—they all work together to overwhelm his senses, and he’s suddenly coming in Wu’s mouth faster than he can warn him. Wu doesn’t miss a beat, and he swallows every bit of Mako’s release as Mako pulses in his mouth.

Mako has to catch his breath as he stops clutching at Wu’s hair. Wu’s curls fall back down across his forehead, and Mako notices how carefully Wu releases his cock, taking care not to overstimulate the sensitive head. Mako tugs Wu back up toward his face, and Wu goes easily.

He pulls Wu back down for a kiss, groaning as he tastes his own climax lingering on Wu’s tongue. Fuck, he wants to touch Wu, go down on him, make him feel as much pleasure as as he just gave Mako. 

He reaches down, getting a hand around Wu’s cock, relishing the way Wu moans into his mouth as Mako starts stroking. He pulls back and nudges Wu toward the edge of the bed. Mako quickly climbs down off the side of the mattress, sinks to his knees, and nestles himself between Wu’s legs. He licks his lips and looks up at Wu, heat blooming across his face as he feels vulnerable at Wu’s feet. Wu is sitting up and brings an encouraging hand to Mako’s cheek, stroking Mako’s face gently with his thumb. Mako closes his eyes and leans into Wu’s touch, overcome with affection, suddenly.

Mako reaches up and clutches Wu’s hand, bringing Wu’s palm to his lips. Mako presses a kiss to Wu’s open hand, and Wu exhales a contented, shaking breath. 

Mako wants to make Wu feel good, he wants to show him how much it means to Mako for Wu to freely give him so much love and tenderness and affection and consideration. He presses a kiss to the head of Wu’s cock, and wraps his hand around the base. The moan Wu lets out sends pleasant shivers down Mako’s spine.

He strokes in a steady pattern and flicks his tongue along the underside of Wu’s cock. He teases with his tongue and lips until Wu is panting heavily and gripping at Mako’s head, holding for purchase. He brings his eyes up and watches as Wu’s face slowly surrenders to the pleasure. Mako pays close attention, memorizing every shift in Wu’s expression. 

Mako feels a sense of pride and triumph at how quickly he brings Wu to climax. He’s got less experience at this act than he’d like to admit—normally his partners get off while fucking him—but Mako swallows without choking and Wu’s cry of pleasure is enough for Mako to feel like he’s done well.

It’s Wu’s turn to catch his breath as Mako releases his cock and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Mako stays on his knees and patiently waits for Wu to regain his composure.

“Oh, Mako…” Wu says with fondness in his voice. “You’re incredible…” Wu cradles Mako’s face in both his hands, gently tipping his chin up and leaning in for a kiss. 

More tears well up in Mako’s eyes and Wu’s thumbs wipe them away before they can fall. The way Wu looks at him, the way Wu speaks to him, it's almost too much.

After a few heartbeats of silence, Wu stands, pulling Mako up with him. “You okay?” Wu asks softly, not calling attention to Mako’s displays of emotion, but checking on him anyway.

“Yeah,” Mako says. “I’m okay, I…” Mako wants to say he loves Wu again, but he doesn’t know how often is too often to say it. He nervously swallows the words down, but then Wu says it again.

“I love you, Mako.”

“I love you, too.” The words still feel strange as they roll off his tongue, but there's something liberating about them too.

Mako finds his pants where they had been discarded on the ground and puts them on as he watches Wu wander over to the dresser. 

Wu’s narrow frame is deceptive, considering how easily he had pulled Mako into bed and pushed Mako onto his back. He’s certainly not weak. There's tone and definition in his back and his arms. Mako hasn't let himself look too intently before, but now he catalogues Wu’s form in his mind, taking note of every inch of brown skin on display—

“I can feel you staring,” Wu says teasingly without even glancing over his shoulder.

Mako’s face grows hot and he averts his eyes as Wu pulls on a slinky, silk robe. “Sorry,” Mako says, feeling sheepish.

“Don't be,” Wu says. He turns to Mako and runs his fingers through his curly brown hair, taming some of the more unruly locks. “I like it when you stare. I always wondered if you liked what you saw or you were just sizing me up.”

“I always liked what I saw,” Mako says carefully. He had certainly been sizing Wu up too, but usually attraction and affection won out over the logistical planning of murder.

“You were multitasking,” Wu says lightly. “Planning and enjoying the view at the same time.” He flashes Mako a mischievous smile, the one that makes Mako’s heart race.

“You're too casual about all of this,” Mako points out. “It’s not a joke.”

Wu’s smile falls slightly, and guilt washes over Mako briefly. He doesn't want to ruin Wu’s fun. Jokes and deflection are how Wu’s been dealing with all of this—losing his family, feeling trapped, facing death.

“Sorry,” Mako murmurs. “I wasn't trying to—”

“I was multitasking too,” Wu interrupts. “Trying to figure you out, and enjoying the view.”

Mako feels his face turn red and Wu’s smile returns. Wu always seems delighted that he can make Mako blush.

Wu meanders casually out of the bedroom and into the main living area of the hotel suite. Mako slowly follows, leaving the rest of his clothes on the floor. He stands in the doorway as Wu slowly walks toward the beverage station.

The vials are still there. Mako left them behind when Wu took him to bed. The wine glass is empty, the stain of red wine dried in a circle in the bottom of the glass, and Mako feels an unpleasant chill down his spine as he remembers Wu defiantly drinking it down, ready for death.

Wu picks up the tiny vials, holding them up to the light and examining them closely. Mako leans in the doorframe and observes, more anxiousness filling him. It brings a lump to his throat again, imagining Wu’s fear he must have felt, thinking it was certain death.

“It wouldn't have hurt,” Mako says carefully. Wu turns, blinking at Mako in confusion. Mako continues, “that one’s poppy extract.”

“Opium?” Wu asks for clarification. Mako nods, stepping closer to Wu. “Well. That's certainly a way to go, I guess.”

“It’s how I’d want to go,” Mako says. He’s thought that plenty of times, but he has never said it out loud before. Wu frowns slightly, holding his hand open with both vials resting on his palm. He closes his fingers over them, then walks past Mako, back into the bedroom, sliding open a drawer in the dresser, and depositing the vials inside.

Mako just watches, observes Wu’s movement and facial expression. Wu seems determined, but not confident. He shuts the drawer and lifts his chin, making eye contact with Mako.

“They shouldn’t be out in the open,” Wu says simply. 

“You aren't going to get rid of them…?” Mako asks softly. “Dump them down the drain?”

Wu averts his eyes. “No, maybe we better… hold onto them.”

Hold onto them? Why? Mako can't imagine Wu wanting to poison someone. He also doesn’t know why Wu would simply trust Mako not try to use it again.

He doesn’t know why Wu trusts him at all. He can’t wrap his head around the fact that Wu loves him.

Wu returns to Mako, gently placing one hand on Mako’s bare chest and running the other hand along Mako’s bicep. Wu tips his head up to press a kiss to Mako’s lips. It's brief and chaste, which is another kind of kissing Mako has no experience with.

Slowly, Mako lets his hands wander to find Wu's hips again, tugging him close. Wu presses his face against Mako’s neck, and Mako holds onto him like his life depends on it.

“I want to help you,” Wu says into Mako’s neck. Mako's hairs stand on end and his heartbeat quickens. “Your brother. We’ve got to get him away from Kuvira.”

“I don't know what to do,” Mako says. “I've thought about… getting caught.”

Wu’s brows furrow at Mako’s words. Mako loves the way the high bridge of Wu’s nose crinkles up when he’s annoyed with something. Mako doesn't mind being the subject of Wu annoyance with how cute Wu looks when indignant.

“Are you asking me to… To turn you in? You want me to run out of here and tell everyone?” Wu asks, displeased. Mako can tell Wu certainly doesn’t want to do that, but…

“I don’t know. If I turn myself in, or if you do it, either way I could expose her, but I don’t know if Bolin would wise up and get away from her before she could do something to him. It’s risky, plus…” Mako takes a deep breath. Letting himself feel this way for Wu has opened up far too many ways for him to lose someone he loves. “If I’m off the job… She’d still…”

“She’d send someone else after me,” Wu says softly. “I’m still…” Wu tips his head down and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “I'm still on borrowed time.”

Mako imagines someone else killing Wu. Viper or Shin, breaking into the suite and drowning Wu with their bending or gutting him with an ice knife. He clutches Wu protectively, sickened by the mental image.

“We could fake my death,” Wu says, huffing a small laugh against Mako's neck. “I don't know how that would work, without a body. But if I was ‘dead’, your brother would be safe, you could collect your payment, and then we could… I don’t know. Run away together?”

“I’ll never get away,” Mako says gently into Wu’s hair. “If I go to prison, Zolt will just use his connections to get me out and keep me under lock and key. If I try to run away, he’ll find me. He’s too powerful.”

Mako knows his voice is wavering as reality starts sinking in. Nothing will work. There's no way Mako sees this having anything other than a painful, unhappy ending with someone he loves dead.

He isn't sure how he'll go on, if it comes to that.

“Well, if faking my death is off the table…” Wu says, pulling back and looking into Mako’s eyes, “I can ask Raiko for the illustrious Nucktuk to come to my coronation… tell him I need Bolin early to rehearse. Something like that.”

“It's so risky.” Mako swallows back a lump in his throat. “And I don't know what kind of hold Kuvira has on him. I don't know if she’d let him, or if she'd suspect something…”

“The only other thing to do is wait,” Wu points out. “Wait for her to bring Bolin to the coronation.”

“She’ll know before she arrives that I didn't do it,” Mako says, his voice cracking. “I might have a chance to get to him, or… If she decides I’ve already taken too long…” The indecision is paralyzing him, making him feel like he’s diffusing a bomb on a timer. One wrong move and everything explodes, but if he doesn’t do anything it explodes anyway.

Wu’s hands are on Mako’s sides, clutching him gently. His face is still pressed into Mako’s neck and his breath is warm and ticklish against the sensitive skin.

“Wu?” Mako asks after it’s too silent for a bit too long.

Wu doesn’t speak. He lifts his chin and presses another kiss to Mako’s lips, this one feels hesitant and uncertain, which is also unfamiliar to Mako. Wu pulls back, but his gaze drops downcast, his brows gently furrowed. It makes Mako nervous—does it mean Wu is having second thoughts? Every kiss so far has been confident, and Wu has always been bold and forward with Mako. But now… Is this it? Will Wu come to his senses and kick Mako out or turn him in…?

It’s quiet for a few more heartbeats. Then Wu lifts his chin and holds eye contact with Mako as he finally speaks.

“If you decide to kill me, go heavy on the poppy. Really knock me out.” 

Mako is speechless and slack jawed as Wu walks away and shuts himself in the bathroom. Mako’s breath catches in his throat as he processes what Wu just said. He wishes he could find the words to explain to Wu how he can't do that. He can't kill Wu. Not after last night. 

Fuck, who is Mako kidding? He never would have been able to do it. Not after he first laid eyes on Wu and felt his heart hammer in his chest at how pretty and friendly and fun Wu had been. 

But Mako also can’t comprehend why Wu wouldn’t just send him away.

Mako can't act like Wu is that crazy for being so resigned to his own death. Mako himself had been compelled to drink the poison last night and bring his own life to an end. Still, it's different. Mako deserves death. Wu doesn't. He shouldn’t be so okay with it.

Mako sighs, heads back into the bedroom, collects his clothes, dresses himself quickly. He feels awkward, suddenly. Should he wait for Wu or return to his own suite?

He’s standing in the living room, paralyzed by indecision, when there's a knock at the door. 

Mako’s heart races, unsure of who’s on the other side. It’s most likely an officer, a part of Wu’s police security team. Mako wonders how incriminating it will be that he’s in the suite. Hopefully not at all, since Wu had claimed to hire Mako permanently and his close protection is supposed to be on-site in the spare room of the suite anyway.  

Mako straightens his back and steps over to the door, peering through the peephole.

On the other side is a fierce and formidable officer, and Mako would recognize her anywhere.  

Police Chief Lin Beifong. 

Mako knows who she is because she’s infamous in his world. She’s tough on triads and incorruptible. Zolt has mentioned several times how much he’d like to get rid of her so that one of his dirty cops can take her place, effectively giving him full control of the police force. But she’s unyielding and powerful and won’t be taken down so easily.

Mako opens the door and lets her in. She’s shorter than Mako expected, but it’s soon clear why she’s in charge.

“You,” she said, her voice sharp and authoritative. “You’re the freelancer the prince hired. Mako, right? You wanna explain to me why you allowed His Royal Highness,” she uses the title sarcastically, “to dismiss his door security last night?”

Before Mako can answer, Wu exits the bedroom. “Chief Beifong!” Wu interjects. He's fully dressed and his hair is still a bit unruly, but he’s sauntering in with his usual casualness, like she’s a dear old friend who’s stopped by for tea. “It’s been months since you paid me a visit! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Officer Hira says you practically ran her off last night.” Chief Beifong says angrily. “Do you have a death wish or something? It’s bad enough you've invented increasingly annoying ways to slip every security officer assigned to you when you're out on the town. Now you're happy to take risks in the middle of the night while you're sleeping?”

Wu makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Oh, Chief. You worry too much.”

“Are you completely delusional?” she asks harshly. Mako flinches at her tone, and he’s a little surprised. So far, Mako has seen most people in authority tiptoe around Wu, telling him what they think he wants to hear, but wrapping it up in layers of condescension and double talk. Chief Beifong is… Unusually direct. 

Wu doesn’t flinch at all. He meanders over to the kitchenette, starts making tea, and doesn’t even bother acknowledging her comment on his sanity. 

She exhales a sharp sigh, then looks at Mako. “Well? Do you have anything to say about this?”

Mako swallows hard. He can handle talking to her, to the highest ranking member of law enforcement in the city. How many times has he had to come up with excuses on the fly about why he was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, come up with a cover story? This is no different, even if he feels like shrinking under her judgment.

“I had the situation under control,” Mako says as professionally as he can.

She narrows her eyes, looking him up and down. Assessing him. He feels small under her harsh gaze, and she’s silent for too long as she sizes him up.

“I’ll bet you did,” she says with a scowl.

“Relax, Chief!” Wu says brightly, pulling her attention away from Mako. “With my big, tough bodyguard here, the chances of me getting assassinated are almost zero!”

Chief Beifong is not amused by Wu’s flippant tone.

“Don’t dismiss my officers again. You can do whatever the fuck you want after your coronation and they ship you off to Ba Sing Se. But while you’re under Republic City Police protective custody, my officers stay where they’re assigned.”

Wu is unperturbed by her harsh words and demands. “Fine, yikes. You’re in a mood today.”

“I’m taking a leave of absence, starting today,” Chief Beifong says, averting her eyes, staring daggers at the floor. “So I won't be here to correct your idiotic mistakes. Don't dismiss your security again.”

“A leave of absence?” Wu says with a tip of his head as he carries a mug of tea into the living area. “For how long?”

“I don’t know. It’s none of your business. Indefinitely.” Her words are sharp and choppy and her tone is outraged.

“Ah. Just taking some time off, huh? Doing some traveling?” Wu asks, casually blowing away a curl of steam from his mug.

Chief Beifong’s expression is several different shades of irritated, but Wu doesn’t shy away from the anger in her gaze at him.

“I hear Zaofu is nice this time of year,” Wu says as he sits down in an armchair, leaning back in his casual way.

The Chief freezes in place, narrowing her eyes at Wu. It takes Mako a moment to understand what’s happening here, what Wu is inferring from her abrupt announcement that she’s leaving her job indefinitely.

Chief Lin Beifong.

Suyin Beifong.

“Suyin Beifong is currently… detained.”

They're related.. they're sisters. And Kuvira has done something with Suyin since she took Zaofu by force a couple weeks ago. 

“Kuvira will be here any day now,” Beifong says, omitting Kuvira’s rank and title as General. “Don't be stupid while I'm gone. Your Highness.”

Wu doesn't respond. He simply sips his tea.

The Chief rolls her eyes and turns to leave. As she walks toward the large double doors to leave the suite, her hands hover over the door handle. 

She zeros in on Mako, frowning at him. “Your shirt’s buttoned wrong,” she says after a few heart-racing seconds. Then she flings the doors open and slams them shut behind her.

He can tell by the way she spoke… She knows.  

The first person they saw after last night read them too easily. Mako hadn’t considered anything before he let Wu lead him to bed, least of all how they were going to conceal the fact that they’d had sex. Wu is supposed to be Mako’s employer, and while Mako is reasonably certain that his official employment status as a freelancer means this isn’t actually a contractual problem, it would certainly raise eyebrows if anyone found out.

Plus… If it gets back to Kuvira that they’re sleeping together, she might decide Mako’s conflict of interest means he won’t get the job done. And who knows what she’ll do to Bolin?

“She knows we had sex,” Mako says, his voice shaking.

“She was a detective for a long time before she was chief of police. Not much can get past her…” Wu says. “I guess we made it easy for her though.”

“This could be bad, if anyone finds out about us…”

“Yeah, but on the plus side, if she, or anyone, suspects anything or notices something off about us, they’ll assume it’s that. Not, you know. Your job,” Wu says in a reassuring voice.

“What if it gets back to Kuvira? If she realizes—”

Wu’s brows furrow. “I don’t think it will, not from Lin. But would it be bad? Maybe she’d think it was part of your plan.” Wu sets his tea down, stands and walks toward Mako. He brings his hands to Mako’s chest, and presses another kiss to Mako’s lips. 

“If it was part of my plan, I’d have already…” Mako doesn’t finish his sentence, but an intrusive thought invades his mind's eye, of Wu underneath him in bed, of wrapping his hands around Wu’s neck and finishing the job. It makes him feel sick.

“Right. While I was sleeping,” Wu says, holding eye contact with Mako. Mako brings his hands up to Wu’s unruly curls, brushing them away from his forehead. He’s still surprised and a little horrified that Wu actually fell asleep in Mako’s arms last night. He should have been terrified to be vulnerable like that with Mako.

“Wu…” Mako’s voice comes out shaky and raspy.

“If you don’t want anything getting back to Kuvira, then we have to be careful,” Wu says as his fingers find Mako’s buttons. He deftly unbuttons and rebuttons the jacket to correct Mako’s error. “Act normal. Like everything is just as swell as it's always been. Since we don’t know who might be watching.”

“So what. Back to the spa? The mall?” Mako wouldn’t mind that, except that he’d be left with his thoughts for far too long while Wu is off getting some ridiculous treatment or getting fitted by a tailor. Mako stupidly wishes for another adventure where Wu drags him somewhere unexpected and brings some fun and happiness into his life. He knows it’s selfish, with his brother’s life hanging in the balance, but a distraction would be welcome right now.

“No,” Wu says, lowering his gaze.  “I have to meet with my great aunt’s old secretariat. He’s in charge of the coronation. We’re supposed to have lunch today to go over the details of the ceremony.”

“And you’ll… Ask about Bolin?” Mako says hesitantly. His heart pounds as he worries about all the ways everything can go wrong.

“Of course,” Wu says softly. “If that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know if it’s what I want, but I don't know what else to do…” Mako says, anxiousness churning in his gut. 

“I’ll be careful. Everyone thinks I’m a shallow joke. Grand Secretariat Gun included. It’ll just be another inane demand from the spoiled Prince Wu.” Wu shrugs as if it’s inevitable that he must be seen as a mockery to the Earth Throne. Mako doesn't like it. 

He’d heard it from Kuvira first, that Wu is some kind of man-child. Then Officer Hira complained about how Wu spends his time. All the rich, snobby, upper class people that Wu constantly has to schmooze with are always putting Wu down and throwing thinly veiled insults his way. Can’t they see the truth? Wu is so much more.

“I love you,” Mako says breathlessly. It’s getting easier and easier to say.

“I love you too. I’m going to fix my hair and then we’ll head out.” He flashes a grin at Mako, and curls his finger in a come over here motion. “You should fix your hair too. You’ve got sex hair. No wonder Lin figured it out so easily.” 

More huffs a laugh. He knows Wu is teasing, deflecting, making light of an awful situation. It makes Mako want to play along, be a part of the joke. Mako doesn’t know how to do that, but when Wu manages to make him laugh, Wu’s face lights up in a way that makes Mako’s heart flutter.

Wu wanders back into the bathroom, and Mako follows. In an unfamiliar act of domesticity, they share a mirror, Wu coiffing his curly bangs to tamed perfection and Mako applying pomade and slicking back his hair along its natural part. 

Mako and Wu lock eyes with each other’s reflections. Wu winks at him after running his fingers through his own curly locks, and Mako feels a swell of affection and nervousness as he mentally prepares for whatever happens today.

“Your Highness, I will do my best to see that your request is fulfilled,” Grand Secretariat, Gun, says. “But this is, uh, rather late notice…”

Gun acts frightened of Wu, but Mako can’t imagine why. No one else seems intimidated by Wu’s title or position. Then again, Wu mentioned that Gun used to work for the late Earth Queen. Mako has heard she was a cruel person, harsh and unpredictable. Working for her must have been frightening… But surely this man can see Wu isn’t cruel or vicious like his great aunt?

Even when he acts like a spoiled prince, he’s never hateful.

“It’s my coronation!” Wu says in a petulant voice. “There’s already several elements lacking from the planning: the badgermoles, the earthbending drummers, the chests of finery, the acrobatic bell ringers,” Wu counts each of them out on his fingers. “I think it’s the least you can do to ensure this one request!”

“Yes, yes, of course, Your Highness… I’ll see to it—”

“Immediately!” Wu says in a demanding voice. “Be sure the message reaches Bolin himself! I don’t want it getting lost by an administrator or deemed unimportant by the general.”

“Yes, yes, of course… I’ll see to that right away, your highness…”

Gun shuffles away, hunched over nervously. He sees Wu’s shoulders relax from how he had them squared. Mako wishes he could put his arm around Wu, but that would be a bad idea out here in the open in front of city hall, where the coronation is supposed to take place.

When the planning for the coronation is finished for the day, Wu guides Mako out of the building by yanking on Mako’s arm—just like he always has. It’s familiar and comforting, and now there’s meaning behind it that wasn’t there before. 

Mako feels troubled at the memory of the last time they were here—it wasn't long ago that Wu’s advisors and the president told him that Kuvira had taken Zaofu and imprisoned Suyin Beifong. When Wu dropped his mask and became angry with Mako for pulling him away from traffic. Wu had been expecting it even back then, hadn’t he? Perhaps he thought Mako would push him in front of a car instead of pulling him to safety.

“There isn’t much else we can do, is there?” Wu asks quietly. Mako shakes his head. There really isn’t. They have to wait and hope that Bolin will arrive before Kuvira. And then…

Now that Mako is thinking about it, his stomach twists itself into knots. There’s so many ways all this could go bad and he’s really not prepared.

If Bolin arrives, if he sees Mako, recognizes him (Fuck, it’s been so many years. Would his brother recognize him at a glance anymore?) and doesn’t immediately alert someone that something is wrong… Then Mako has to talk to Bolin. Tell him what’s going on. Tell him… the truth?

And then what?

Mako and Wu return to the hotel, and Hira stands at the door, scowling at Mako—Chief Beifong must have chewed her out when she’d learned Hira had agreed to leave door duty. She says nothing, though, simply putting her hands behind her back and lifting her chin as they pass her and enter the suite.

“We got her in trouble,” Mako says, the slightest twinge of regret hitting him after they shut and lock the door.

“No, I’m the one who got her in trouble,” Wu says with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t dismiss her. I did, because I wasn’t sure if…” Wu wraps his arms around himself and lets his sentence in the air.

“If what?” Mako asks, confused.

“If you’d… Do something to her. Knock her out. Or worse.” Wu’s head is tilted down but his eyes look up at Mako hesitantly.

That had been part of Mako’s plan. He didn’t want to kill her, but he knew he’d have to do something so she wouldn’t interfere. 

“You were protecting her,” Mako says as he realizes the depth of Wu’s kindness.

Mako is struck, once again, by how good Wu is. He was expecting to die, and he made sure no one else would get hurt. And not just someone, but someone who had a history of being subtly but undeniably prejudiced against Wu.

Because that’s who Wu is. He wants to help other people, even if they’ve been unkind to him. Not hurt them, like Mako has done his whole life. 

Mako is a weapon; Wu is a shield.

“This might sound stupid, all things considered,” Wu says, changing the subject and cutting through Mako’s thoughts. “But Yang is supposed to be singing at the Upper Ring Club tomorrow night.”

“We should go, then,” Mako agrees, understanding instantly what Wu is suggesting. “Keep up appearances. Plus… She was really looking forward to having you there.”

Wu pauses for a moment, and Mako looks back at him. Wu’s got a look of delight on his face, like Mako said something beautiful.

“You have to hear her sing. She’s incredible,” Wu says after a moment.

Suddenly, Mako feels torn as he thinks of Jiro, of Jiro’s history, and how he practically begged Mako not to say a word about his triad ties because Yang didn’t know. Mako hadn’t thought twice about keeping that information to himself, because why would he bother telling anyone? But if he and Wu are… Whatever they are, maybe he owes it to Wu to be honest, since Wu is such good friends with her. Or does his promise to Jiro supersede that? 

It’s confusing. Mako’s never had someone before, not like this. He doesn’t know how to navigate all these little ins and outs of a… What is this thing between them? A relationship?

“You look freaked out about something, big guy,” Wu observes. Mako feels his face grow red as he remembers how easily Wu has been able to read him this whole time.

“I don’t know if I should say it,” Mako says honestly.

“Really? After laying all the metaphorical cards on the table last night? It can’t possibly be worse than that.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s about Jiro. I just don’t know if it’s my place to say something.” Mako drops his gaze to the floor as Wu closes the distance between them. 

Wu reaches up and drapes his arms loosely atop Mako’s shoulders, as if this kind of intimacy were the easiest, most natural thing in the world. Mako’s fingers itch to reach back and wrap his arms around Wu and tug him closer. His heart pounds as he gives in to the impulse, and a small thrill rushes through him at the novelty of being able to simply touch Wu like this.

Wu leans in closer as Mako tightens his grip, and presses a kiss to Mako’s cheek. “I’m going to guess. Jiro’s hiding something, isn’t he? From Yang?”

Mako shouldn’t be surprised at Wu’s sharp powers of observation. Or maybe Yang already suspects something and has merely confided in a friend. Either way, he’s less conflicted in divulging what he knows.

Wu continues as Mako contemplates the situation. “If you know something… Does that mean it has to do with triads?” Wu’s voice drops quieter. He brings his hand to the back of Mako’s neck as he searches Mako’s face for answers. 

“Yeah. It’s not… It’s not as bad as—you know— me,” Mako says, trying to sound reassuring. “It was a different triad, and he’s out now. But he recognized me from back when I used to…” Mako trails off. Wu knows he’s killed people. For some reason, he feels nervous about telling Wu that he also used to do shakedowns for protection money.

“When you were doing different work? Before your boss had you doing hits,” Wu says, completing Mako’s sentence for him. Wu really reads him too easily.

“We both used to do protection rounds,” Mako says, averting his eyes “For different triads, but our paths crossed a few times.”

“Protection rounds…?” Wu repeats in a questioning tone.

“Shaking down homeowners and businesses for protection fees.”

“Protection from you,” Wu surmises correctly. “Racketeering?”

Mako holds back the urge to wince. Another item in his long list of offences.

“Yeah. I don't know everything else he got up to, but I guess he scored big and managed to get out. He’s from a small time triad, so it would have been easy for him to leave it behind.”

“Yang knows he’s hiding something from his past,” Wu says carefully. “She’s mentioned it to me before. She’s not stupid. She doesn’t know what he’s hiding, though.”

“He loves her, he’s just… scared of what she’ll think,” Mako says, unexpectedly defending Jiro. He’s not sure what compels him to do so, but he understands what Jiro must be feeling.

Wu smiles. “Yang loves him, too. She doesn’t care about his past. She just wants a future with him.”

A silence hangs heavy between them as Mako realizes they aren’t talking about Yang and Jiro anymore. And that begets an uncomfortable question.

Does Mako have a future with Wu?

Even in the best case scenario, where everything goes perfectly and no one gets hurt or killed and Mako manages to leave the triad for good and doesn’t end up in prison… Wu will still go back to Ba Sing Se. He’ll have to take a wife for a consort. And Mako will be… what will Mako be? Where will he go, what will he do? Will he have Bolin back in his life? Will Bolin forgive him for every awful thing he’s ever done? Will Wu want him in Ba Sing Se? What would Mako be, a concubine? That’s common for Earth Monarchs, Mako is pretty sure. 

Mako can think of worse ways to spend the rest of his life. 

It’s stupid to even think about. Why bother imagining a future that definitely won’t happen?

Because the best case scenario is just a fantasy. There’s no way Mako can have a future with Wu and Bolin… Mako can’t imagine Wu wanting to bring Mako back to Ba Sing Se. Bolin would never forgive him. Not after every awful thing Mako has done…

He’s again wrought with anxiousness over seeing Bolin.

“Hey, big guy. What’s on your mind?” Wu asks, cutting through Mako’s spiral of thoughts.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I don't like it. I don’t know if Bolin will listen to me. I don’t know how to keep him safe. I don’t know what will happen after. I can’t see a future where everything turns out fine,” Mako admits.

“You can’t plan for everything,” Wu says softly. His fingers glide through Mako’s hair in a way that’s intimate and comforting. “One thing at a time. We get Bolin away from Kuvira. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Wu is right. He can’t plan for everything. Mako hates that, he hates having things out of his control. But what else can he do? He takes a deep breath and holds onto Wu tightly. 

Mako keeps close to Wu at the Upper Ring Club. They sit together at a small table front and center to the stage. Wu barely sips on a cocktail in his usual fashion, while Mako has foregone any beverage, even water. He’s here to keep Wu safe, that’s it.

It’s all a little surreal, the way things are between him and Wu. He’d abandoned his personal hotel room and slept in Wu’s bed again last night. Wu had ravished him with kisses and he’d fallen apart at Wu’s touch. Then, Mako slept with Wu in his arms once again, and woke up with him pressed against his chest. They hadn’t left the suite all day, only emerging when it was time to visit the club to see Yang sing.

The Upper Ring Club is the most exclusive establishment in the entire city. The wealthiest of the wealthy come here to party and hob-knob with one another, the doors only open after dark and they have a very exclusive member list. No one becomes a member without going through a stringent application process—invitation or recommendation from an existing member, interviews, membership fee payments, and a waiting period. 

Of course, some people can bypass some of the steps—Wu had the owner offer him a membership by virtue of his royal status alone. And Mako knows that several triad bosses are admitted to the club without membership through bribes and blackmail—so they can meet with politicians and secure deals, buy votes, and intimidate anyone who stands in their way.

Zolt never visits the club, fortunately. He prefers to operate in less conspicuous locations, which is part of the reason the Triple Threats are the most powerful triad in the city. By operating in the shadows and rarely showing his face, Zolt can inspire fear and foreboding by hiding behind a shroud of mystery rather than public threats.

Yang is the opening act, and she’s incredible. She’s a beautiful woman, Mako noticed that the first time he saw her. She’s wearing something more demure and classic tonight—a slinky black dress with silver accents. Her voice is sugar-sweet as she sings an intoxicating song with the gentle harmony of smooth jazz in the background.

“You showed me the way
When I was someone in distress
A heart in search of happiness
You showed me the way”

“You can pick your jaw up off the floor,” Wu says, leaning forward across the two person table toward Mako. Mako peels his eyes away from the stage and finds Wu smirking at him, the green in his eyes reflecting the stage lights. Wu takes a casual sip of his drink. “Should I be jealous?”

Mako rolls his eyes, even as he feels his face warming. “She’s a good singer,” Mako says halfheartedly, leaning back in his seat and hunching in on himself slightly. He crosses his arms and goes back to scanning the restaurants for threats.

“And very pretty, too,” Wu points out. Mako narrows his eyes suspiciously, feeling like he’s being entrapped. But Wu is barely holding back laughter. He’s not jealous. He’s teasing. Mako blushes, and lets himself play along.

“You think she’s pretty? Should I be jealous?” Mako asks in his best attempt at a joking tone. He feels ridiculous, but Wu’s surprised laughter is worth it. 

“My sky was so gray
I never knew I'd feel a thrill
I couldn't dream a dream until
You showed me the way”

Wu returns his attention to Yang. She winks at Wu and blows him a kiss during the pause between verses. Maybe it’s pointless to feel this way, but Mako is glad Wu gets to be here, to see her sing. The last time Mako and Wu saw Yang, Mako thought Wu wouldn’t live long enough to see her perform here. 

“The moment you found me
The shadows around me
Just disappeared from view
The world became rosy
Each corner so cozy
Darling, all because of you”

Wu smiles and Mako sits back up, alert, because he’s still a bodyguard in spite of everything that’s transpired between them. Perhaps he’s even more of a bodyguard now, since he’s fully committed to protecting Wu instead of harming him.

“You showed me the way
And if I've learned that love can be
A paradise for you and me
Here's all I can say
You showed me the way”

As the song wraps up, Mako catches a glimpse of Jiro in the back of the club, applauding and cheering loudly. He seems excited and proud as Yang takes her bow and exits the stage. Then Jiro’s demeanor changes abruptly. A woman approaches him and the color drains from Jiro’s face. Mako recognizes the woman easily. Jargala Omo, the leader of the Creeping Crystal Triad.

Maybe Jiro didn’t actually get out like he said he did.

Jargala has a couple of thugs with her, all well dressed and blending in, but it’s clear from the way they stand near Jiro that he has no choice but to leave the club with Jargala.

“Mako? What’s wrong?”

Shit. Mako shouldn’t get involved. Not with everything else going on. He’s got to protect Wu, and he has to get Bolin to safety once Kuvira arrives in town, and getting involved in an inter-triad conflict, for a gang he’s not even a part of, would be very counterproductive to everything he’s trying to do.

But Mako senses something is very, very wrong, given the look of fear on Jiro’s face. He doesn’t owe anything to Jiro, so why does he feel the urge to slip out the back entrance and make sure nothing horrible is about to happen to him? 

“Remember that thing we talked about, about Jiro’s history?” Mako asks, leaning in closer to Wu so he doesn’t have to speak too loudly to be heard over the next song. “He just left out the back with his old boss and a couple of thugs.”

Wu’s eyes go wide as he suddenly scans the back of the club, fear darkening his face. “Really? Where? Should we… I don’t know, call security? The police?”

“Jiro might get arrested, if we do,” Mako says. “Maybe I should…” No, Mako really shouldn’t get involved.

“Hira’s at the door, if you check on him, I’ll be safe with her,” Wu says, and Mako notes the way Wu doesn’t ask, doesn’t demand. He lets Mako decide if he’s going to get involved or not.

Mako is compelled to do something. Wu cares about Yang, she’s a friend, and Jiro seems to genuinely like Wu. How can he let any harm come to these people who see Wu for who he really is?

Mako nods at Wu, who quickly gets up and returns to Hira’s side. Hopefully he’s making up some excuse for why Mako is stepping out the back.

Mako swiftly and quietly weaves through the crowd, following where he saw them go toward the back, walking past the club employees as he finds a door that clearly leads out to the back of the building.

He cracks the door open to assess the situation at hand. The door leads to a back alley. It’s late, and there’s no light from the moon or stars. The narrow corridor is lit by a single lantern, bracketed to the wall next to the door. 

He sees Jargala and her two thugs, cornering Jiro against the alley wall. Mako quickly scans the rest of the alleyway and sees no one else. It’s just them, alone in a dark, secluded back alley. Bad news for someone getting cornered by triad thugs. Mako is quiet so as not to alert them that he’s there. 

“You said we were done,” Jiro says desperately. “I paid my dues!”

“Yes, and I was more than happy to say farewell when it seemed clear that you’d amount to nothing and come crawling back to me.” Jargala smooths out a wrinkle from the woven pink fabric draped across her shoulder. “But you’ve shown some competence with that auction house, so I’ve decided to change the conditions of our mutual separation agreement.”

“But—but… I’m legit now, I can’t start fencing stolen goods and laundering money for you!” Jiro says in a pleading tone.

“You were never legit,” Jargala says sharply. “Did you forget how you got all the money to renovate the building? Once a gangster, always a gangster.”

“No, I’m done with that life, I’m not going to—”

“I really hoped we didn’t have to do this the hard way…” Jargala says in an exasperated, disinterested tone. “Boys, I think Jiro here needs a little more convincing,”

Her thugs close in on Jiro, and something snaps inside Mako. Instincts take over and he steps through the door, slamming it shut loudly enough to startle all four of them. “Hey!” Mako says with a raised voice, sharp anger simmering underneath. “Get away from him, now!”

Jiro’s face flashes with relief as Mako steps out of the shadow of the building into the dim lantern light.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jargala asks in a biting tone. 

“Take your second-rate lackeys and walk away,” Mako growls in a threatening tone as he slowly approaches them, ready for a fight. 

The tension is thick in the air as the two men wait for orders from their boss. Mako can feel the way they dig their feet into the ground, connecting to the earth and ready to throw concrete at a moment’s notice. 

Mako pulls his own chi from his core, bringing heat to his hand so he can ignite his inner fire at a moment’s notice.

“Wait, boss,” one of her lackeys says, recognition flashing over his face. “I know this guy, he’s—”

“That’s Zolt’s pet firebender! The assassin!” the other thug interrupts.

“Really? Well I’ll be damned,” Jargala says with a huff of a laugh. “What’s the Triple Threat’s hitman doing, wandering into this alley?” 

Mako freezes, momentarily aware that they just named his profession out loud in front of Jiro. He pushes the thought away to deal with the situation at hand. 

“Get the fuck out of here, Jargala,” Mako says, hoping his use of her name will impart how serious he is.

“This is a Creeping Crystal matter. I can’t imagine Zolt gives two shits about what I do with my guys. Why are you even here?” she asks, then realization washes over her face. “Oh… Are you here on a job?”

Mako has already threatened her three times. He flexes his hands and ignites, bringing fire to his fingers. “Last warning.”

Jargala is silent for a moment as her thugs look at her, waiting for orders. The light from Mako’s flames reflects in her eyes. There’s a calculating expression on her face as she contemplates whether it’s worth it to get in a fight with Mako.

“We’re not done, Jiro,” she says over her shoulder. “I’ll give you some time to think over my offer. We’ll be in touch.” She gestures with a nod of her head for them to leave Jiro behind and walk out of the alley. They begin walking away, and Mako breathes a sigh of relief.

“Nice to finally meet Lightning Bolt Zolt’s protege,” Jargala says over her shoulder, malice in her voice. “Good luck on your job, whoever the target is.”

They make their exit quickly, rounding the corner. Mako holds his breath for a moment as he hears their footsteps fade away into nothing. He’s left alone in the alleyway with Jiro. Mako extinguishes his fire and turns back to Jiro, who still has his back pressed against the wall.

“Are they right?” Jiro asks, fear still plain across his face. “You’re… you’re him. The assassin for the Triple Threats—” Jiro cuts himself off, and his eyes dart back and forth as if to look for an escape.

This is the reaction someone should have when they realize what Mako is. What he does. Terror, horror, revulsion. Not how Wu acts with him. It’s a good reminder, Mako realizes, that he’s a danger to anyone around who gets close. Wu’s love and affection made him forget, but anyone who sees Mako for who he really is should be looking for any chance to run away.

“I don’t understand, if you’re… him, then why are you working for the prince, what are you—” Jiro’s eyes grow wide as realization darkens his face. “Wait. No… He’s… Wu’s your target, isn’t he?”

“It’s not like that,” Mako says calmly, taking a step forward. Jiro flinches.

“Fuck, I’ve heard about Zolt’s hired killer, but I never knew who… You’re gonna kill Prince Wu, oh no, oh no no no—”

“I’m not,” Mako says honestly. “Look, it’s… complicated. But I’m not—”

The door swings open behind him, and Yang’s voice rings out through the alleyway. “Jiro? I’ve been looking all over for you! What’s going on? What are you two doing out here?”

Mako holds his breath. He doesn’t know if Jiro is going to lie to her or come clean about his past, but he’s almost certainly going to tell her about Mako’s job. 

Jiro peels himself away from the wall and swiftly hurries past Mako, rushing into Yang’s arms. She yelps in surprise at how tightly he clutches her. “C’mon baby, we have to… We’ve gotta warn him —” Jiro looks back at Mako, fear in his eyes, but his posture is protective as he shields his girlfriend. 

“Wu knows,” Mako blurts out. “About me. Everything.” Jiro is just waiting to run inside and warn Wu, and that’s fine because Wu already knows it all. But if someone else hears…

Jiro’s brows furrow in confusion and skepticism. “He… Knows…? But he’s still—”

“Wu knows what? Hey! Jiro, look at me! What’s going on?” Yang asks, her voice pitching up in concern. Jiro doesn’t take his eyes off Mako in spite of Yang’s demand.

“It’s complicated,” Mako reiterates. “But I'm not gonna… I’m not gonna hurt Wu.”

Yang peels herself out of Jiro’s arms and turns toward Mako. She squares her shoulders and tips up her chin confidently. Jiro’s hand lands on her shoulder, like he needs to hang on tight or else Mako might steal her away and kill her. He can’t blame Jiro, he’s frightened and Yang is defiantly stepping toward a callous murderer. Of course Jiro wants to drag her back inside to safety. 

“Alright, you tell me what’s going on, then. What do you mean you’re not gonna hurt Wu? Wait—” Yang’s brow furrows. “Something was different between you two, I could see it from the stage… Are you two…? Did you… Are you together…?” her voice trails off as realization hits her, though of a different variety than Jiro’s. Fuck. Apparently he and Wu are far too obvious, because this is the second person who guessed they slept together just by looking at them.

Mako pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m going back inside. You’re welcome, by the way,” Mako adds. Of course Jiro is justified in his horror at who Mako really is, but Mako chased off the Creeping Crystals for Jiro. He’s not expecting a thank you, of course. Mako is a weapon, and you don’t thank a weapon, even if it saves you.

Mako pushes past them and returns inside. His body buzzes with anxiety as he searches for Wu and Hira. His heart doesn’t stop pounding until he sees Wu and gets visual confirmation that he’s safe and sound. Coming here might have been a mistake. Mako thought it would be relatively safe, since Zolt never bothers to visit. But he should have known other triads would have a presence here, and that someone would put together who he is and why he’s here.

Wu sees Mako from across the room, and his gaze is uncertain, searching for signs of what happened outside. Mako quickly crosses the floor, weaving past other guests, and gets to Wu’s side as quickly as possible.

“There he is! My big, tough guy. Let’s head back to our table, I don’t want to miss another thing!” Wu seamlessly slips away from Hira and pulls on Mako’s arm to lead him back to their seats. The music is loud and vibrant, and some guests have started dancing. Mako half expects Wu to drag him to the dance floor as well.

“Where’s Jiro?” Wu says, leaning close to Mako as they walk toward their table. 

“He’s fine. I chased off his old boss and her guys, and Yang came out looking for him. But his boss… they recognized me,” Mako says, leaning toward Wu’s ear. “And they weren’t quiet about it. Jiro knows.”

“Shit . If he tries to turn you in—” Wu abruptly turns on his heel and heads toward the back. Mako sighs, even as affection bubbles within him. Chasing Wu around is familiar. The circumstances have changed, but Wu is still the same impulsive, flighty, spontaneous man he met a couple of months ago. Even if Mako feels like a volleyball being lobbed back and forth, he’ll follow Wu anywhere.

Wu throws the door open, revealing the back alley where Jiro and Yang are in a heated discussion. Yang’s head swivels in Wu’s direction, and then she locks eyes with Mako. She knows. Jiro told her, Mako can tell by the fear and anger on her face. Mako can’t be surprised, Jiro thinks he’s protecting Wu, protecting Yang, by telling her. He cynically wonders if Jiro bothered to tell her about his own past, but he knows that’s ungracious. Like Mako should be judging anyone.

“Wu!” Yang rushes over to Wu, pulling him away from Mako. “Wu, is it true…? is Mako—is he here to—”

“Shh, hey, everything’s okay, don’t worry. It’s a long story, but—” 

“He’s here to kill you! How can you say that’s okay!?” Yang’s got tears in her eyes. Another normal reaction. Jiro and Yang are reacting the way Wu should have reacted.

“I know it sounds bad, but he’s not—”

“And you slept with him, too? When I saw the way you were looking at him, I was actually happy for you, but if he’s—”

“Yang, stop,” Wu commands in an unusually stern tone. She startles at his sudden tone, but shuts her mouth and waits for Wu to explain himself. She’s watching Mako from the corner of her eye, hypervigilant as if Mako might burn them all to death here in this alleyway. The fear in her eyes reminds him of his mother’s, in her last moments… It makes his breath catch.

“I love him,” Wu says confidently.

“But he’s here to murder you! You’re not even trying to deny it! Wu, you can’t possibly—”

“I’m not going to kill him,” Mako says, interjecting. 

The alleyway is silent, though Yang is still clutching Wu protectively.

“Really?” Jiro asks skeptically as he steps forward to huddle close to Yang. “How do you expect anyone to believe that?”

Jiro’s got him there. He doesn’t expect anyone to believe him. He’s telling the truth, but it’s not like he’s earned anyones trust.

Wu pulls himself out of Yang’s grasp and returns to Mako’s side, clutching onto his arm. Mako wants to throw his arms around Wu and hold him close, but he holds back.

“It’s been months , and he had plenty of chances,” Wu explains. “And it’s all more complicated than you know. It’s okay, Yang, really. He won’t hurt me.”

Wu’s right on that count. Mako never intends to hurt Wu, not if he could help it. The way Wu phrased it, though, reminds Mako that Wu still thinks Mako might go through with killing him, but that he trusts Mako to make it painless. Mako hates it, because there’s no way he can kill Wu and it makes something deep within his heart hurt that Wu still thinks he’s as good as dead. But he’s glad that Wu understands that Mako means him no harm. 

Yang frowns and bites her lip. “He’s a criminal, he’s with a triad!” Yang says desperately, and Mako sees the way Jiro flinches behind her.

Wu lifts his chin, staring at Jiro expectantly. Jiro owes Yang the truth, if he really loves her. Mako’s pretty sure, anyway. What does he know? He loves Wu, and Wu knows the truth, but he and Wu have only been together like that for a couple of days. Maybe Jiro would be better off, in the long run, hiding his past from Yang. If he can really put it behind him.

“Yang, sweetheart…” Jiro’s voice is shaky and hesitant. Yang turns toward Jiro, eyes wide and waiting. “He’s not the only one.”

“Wha…?” Yang says, confused.

“I… I used to work for a triad. I never—” Jiro glances toward Mako frantically, then back to Yang. “I never killed anybody! But I used to work for the Creeping Crystals…”

Yang’s eyes go wide in surprise.

“I got out, or… I thought I did. I went legit with the auction house, I haven’t been a part of that world for years, but… My old boss. She decided I wasn’t done. She and her lackeys took me out here to rough me up, to force me to work for them again…” Jiro’s eyes soften as he looks at Mako. “Mako saved me, he ran them off…”

Yang’s brows furrow as she processes what Jiro just said. “I always knew… I just knew there was something you were hiding from me. But I never thought it was… that!”

Jiro flinches and averts his eyes. “I know, baby. It’s bad, It’s real bad, I—”

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” Yang says, her voice pitching up. She grabs him by both of his arms and pulls him close. “I love you! I don’t care if you have a sketchy past, I just wanna be with you!”

“Aren’t you… Aren’t you angry with me?” Jiro asks, incredulous.

“Of course I’m angry!” she says, lightly swatting his upper arm. “Because you lied to me about it!”

Jiro’s posture relaxes and he lets Yang pull him into a hug. 

“You big idiot… What if something happened to you? I don't know what I’d do without you!” she says tearfully, burying her face in his chest.

Mako feels the urge to pull Wu back inside and give them privacy, but he can tell they’re both hyper-aware of Wu’s presence. If he tried to take Wu from their sight, they’d both freak out.

Wu huddles closer, nestling himself against Mako’s arm. Mako glances down at him, studying the way his eyes shine in the night, reflecting the light of the single lantern in the alleyway. He’s happy for his friends, even if it will probably take a lot of time for Jiro to earn back Yang’s trust.

“Is it true, Mako saved you?” Yang says, wiping away a few tears as she looks at Mako warily.

“Yeah… He scared them away…” Jiro says looking at Mako with the same wariness.

“Not for good,” Mako says cautiously. “Jargala won’t take no for an answer easily. She’ll be back.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Yang says confidently. “Together, no more secrets, you got it?” She points a finger into Jiro’s chest in a scolding motion.

“I’m sorry for ruining your big night,” Jiro says, his voice teeming with shame. “I never meant to—”

“You didn't ruin anything. The only way you would have ruined my night is if I came out here and found you hurt, or worse.” Yang assures him. She turns to Mako. “Thank you,” she says, and Mako feels intensely awkward because she’s still terrified of him and she is obviously worried about Wu, but she’s thanking him anyway.

“Mako’s a good person,” Wu says with unwavering confidence. “I’m safe with him. I trust him.”

Yang appears unconvinced as she scrutinizes Mako. She’s right to be skeptical, because Wu is wrong. Mako is most definitely not a good person. 

There’s a tense moment of silence before Yang finally says, “Okay. If you trust him, so do I.”

Jiro looks more uncomfortable than Yang with that assessment, probably because he’s heard so much about the Triple Threat’s hitman. The sad thing is that Jiro, even being from that world and knowing who Mako is, has no idea the extent of Mako’s crimes. Some of his contracts were known by the criminal underground, but a significant portion of his jobs were secret. Jobs where he left no trace of his involvement, where it looked natural or like an accident. Jobs he specifically had to pull off in a way that didn’t look like a hit at all.

Twenty-three people. And he remembers every one. Jiro probably only knows about a few.

Fuck. Jiro knows. Yang knows. Jargala knows. Two of her lackeys know. Mako’s on borrowed time here. At this rate, it won’t be long before he’s completely outed. Zolt’s going to realize Mako’s not going to finish this job. Kuvira’s going to realize it too, though hopefully not before he can get Bolin to safety.

From there, it’s only a matter of time before the authorities know, and then who knows what’s going to happen? Will he be arrested? Will Wu try to protect him? Will Zolt get to him first, or use his connections to get him out of jail? What will happen when Zolt gets his hands on Mako? Nothing good, that’s for sure. Mako remembers Kozue, the airbender that tried to steal from Zolt and escape the Triple Threats. Somehow, Mako imagines his fate will be much, much worse once Zolt gets to him.

“Mako?” Wu’s voice pulls Mako back to reality. “Come on, let's go home.”

Home. It should sound strange, to imagine returning to the hotel and thinking it’s home. But being with Wu does feel like home. Like all the feelings of safety and love he used to have when he’d had a home with his parents and brother. 

If it’s only a matter of time until Mako’s world falls apart around him, he might as well enjoy going home one more time.

Chapter Text

It’s the middle of the night and Mako’s been tossing and turning. He wakes fully as his heart starts pounding in his ears. There are too many thoughts running through his mind right now—he’s terrified to see Kuvira again, he doesn’t know what will happen when Bolin lays eyes on him, not to mention what Zolt will do to him as punishment for failing to do his job. 

Mako turns over and stares at Wu sleeping beside him. It’s dark and quiet, but there’s just enough light for Mako to see Wu’s sleeping face. Wu is beautiful, if a little inelegant with a wet spot of drool on the pillowcase where the corner of his mouth rests. His loose curls stick out slightly, and Mako loves them. Wu’s polished, perfect, coiffed and refined look is certainly attractive, but it feels special, getting to see Wu like this.

Wu’s face is relaxed and his body is curled up under the blankets—he looks warm and safe and cozy. Mako would like nothing more than to shut off his racing mind and curl up with Wu, but he feels his heart beat harder as his worries start to overwhelm him. It’s only been a few hours since Wu and Mako were in the alley with Jiro and Yang, who had stared at Mako with horror—the kind of reaction Mako deserves. Part of him thinks Wu should have listened to them, that Wu should have let Yang pull him to safety, far far away from Mako.

And yet…

Wu insisted that he was safe with Mako. That he trusts Mako. That he loves Mako.

Wu isn’t afraid of Mako, even though he should be. Wu falls asleep in bed with Mako, he lets Mako undress him, touch him, kiss him. He lets himself be completely vulnerable with Mako, and the trust it requires is not lost on Mako.

It doesn’t feel real, the way Wu loves him.

Mako holds his breath and listens, relishing the steady sound of Wu’s breathing. He watches Wu’s chest rise and fall, and he can barely stave off the deep, intense longing that rises within him. Mako has always slept better with a warm body next to him. He sometimes hires someone to provide that service, but he’s never dared to do something so intimate as hold them in the middle of the night. And yet the urge is there; he wants to curl up in Wu’s arms, cling to him like his life depends on it, press his face into Wu’s chest and let himself be held and loved. Mako’s never felt like this with anyone else he’s slept with.

Mako holds back the urge to grab Wu and press their bodies together, and instead he reaches out and touches Wu’s hair, letting the strands slide through his fingers as he gently combs through them. Wu stirs at Mako’s touch, and Mako feels remorseful right away. He didn’t mean to wake Wu, it’s so late—or early, depending on how you look at it—and one of them should get some sleep, at least.

“Mako?” Wu’s sleep-addled voice is like music to Mako’s ears. Wu reaches his hand out and touches Mako’s face. It’s dark, but Mako can imagine that Wu sees how anxious and exhausted he is.

“Sorry,” Mako murmurs. “I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“I don’t mind being woken up by you, tough guy,” Wu says softly. He nestles in closer to Mako—and oh how good it feels to have Wu’s perfect body against his own—and presses a kiss to Mako’s collarbone. It sends a wave of arousal through Mako’s body, and he can feel heat curling in his core.

They’d already fallen apart together when they’d returned to the suite after the terrifying incident in the alley behind the upper ring club. Both of them had been so keyed up; they’d torn into each other the second they were alone behind the doors to the suite. 

Wu had been eager and desperate, but he’d still been so loving. The way Wu touches Mako is like nothing he’s felt before—so careful, thoughtful, considerate and tender. Not that Mako has ever been treated badly during sex, but no one has ever cared about him like that.

“Is this good? Do you like this?” Wu had asked between kisses as his hands dragged lower and lower down Mako’s chest. And then Wu had touched him, stroked him, brought him to the brink of climax, and held him through it all. And after, Wu covered Mako in kisses and repeated “I love you, Mako” again and again.

Mako shivers at the memory. Wu kisses Mako more, trailing his lips up Mako’s neck and igniting Mako’s desires again. Mako wants him, his arousal grows and his heart rate steadily increases. But they’d already had sex this evening. Is it okay to ask for more? Wu gives and gives and Mako isn’t sure where the line is; he isn’t sure if he can ask Wu to give him pleasure again.

The whole thing leaves Mako feeling a bizarre mix of deep, soul-crushing affection, and a sense of paralyzing anxiousness. How does this work? How can he keep accepting Wu’s affections without knowing what he’s doing?

“Mako, what’s wrong?” Wu pulls back, reading Mako’s doubt. His eyes grow wide as he wakes fully, alert to the world now.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Mako admits.

“Oh I think I can say with complete confidence that you know exactly what you’re doing,” Wu says, pressing a kiss to Mako’s shoulder this time. Mako huffs a laugh, partly at Wu’s quip, partly at the tickling of Wu’s lips against the sensitive skin.

“Thanks, but that’s not what I meant,” Mako says, his body relaxing more and more under Wu’s attention.

Wu pulls back, blinking in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“I just… I don’t know what we are…” Mako says, searching for the words.

“We’re together?” Wu offers up, and it’s not a declaration, but a question. A chance for Mako to define what they are.

“Yeah. Together,” Mako agrees. “I don’t have any experience with that, though.” Mako can’t imagine being a good boyfriend, or partner, or whatever words they might use to describe their relationship. He has no idea how to love someone like this and not fuck it up somehow.

“Me neither,” Wu says carefully, and there's a vulnerability in his eyes that makes Mako’s heart ache. “But I understand the theory. We’re there for each other. Right?”

Mako nods in agreement. He’s never done this before, but that’s the idea. People in love, they help each other, they support each other, they care for each other…

“You look worried,” Wu says, his voice radiating warmth. “You can't sleep? Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m… nervous. I guess,” Mako says, trying to maintain control over his voice. He wants to hold back the tremor threatening to bleed into his words. 

Wu frowns and furrows his brows, scrutinizing him. Mako realizes with a wave of disbelief Wu can tellwhen Mako’s not being completely forthcoming. It sends Mako’s heart fluttering as he continues to be surprised by how well Wu knows him. Wu’s paid such close attention to him, to his moods and mannerisms and words, that he can look past every layer of armor Mako has wrapped himself in.

“Nervous… or scared?” Wu asks carefully.

“...Scared,” Mako admits, extending some trust, shedding a little armor and letting Wu in. Just saying it out loud lets his body relax slightly. “Terrified. I just feel like everything is going to go wrong.”

“I’m sorry, I wish I could fix everything,” Wu says through lowered eyes. Guilt washes over Mako, because Wu shouldn't be concerned with fixing Mako’s problems.

“None of this is your fault,” Mako says softly.

“I know that,” Wu says as his brows draw up in concern. “I just love you and I want to help you however I can…”

Wu is kind and gentle as he props himself up on an elbow and leans forward to kiss Mako. He starts kissing Mako slowly and tenderly. Mako’s heart starts to race as the kiss deepens and Wu carefully climbs on top of him. Wu cradles Mako’s face with his hands and slots their lips together—Mako groans as Wu’s teeth scrape against the inside of his lower lip.

“Maybe I should help you get your mind off things…” Wu whispers against Mako’s mouth. “Would you like that?” Wu traces his fingers down Mako’s arm, giving him goosebumps.

“Yes…” Mako says, closing his eyes and letting Wu overtake his senses. “Is that… okay?”

Wu answers by bucking his hips down, pressing his arousal against Mako’s. 

Mako knows he doesn’t deserve a single bit of this pleasure. He’s tempting the spirit world, he’s sure. There has to be balance in the world, doesn’t there? Mako has done horrific, evil, unforgivable things. He’s got a moral debt that he’ll never be able to repay. And yet, he digs himself deeper into debt by taking things he hasn’t earned.

He hasn’t earned Wu’s affection, his attention, or his love…

If he keeps accepting Wu’s love, he’ll have to pay for it, one day.

As Wu trails more kisses along Mako’s jaw, Mako lets out a shaking sigh. Maybe he’ll pay for this one day. But now? Now he just wants to give in. He wants to feel good.

It isn’t long before Wu has Mako writhing in pleasure and clutching tightly at the bedsheets. Wu kisses him, presses their bodies together, and rolls his hips over and over and over…

Mako grips Wu’s hips and bucks up, matching Wu’s pace. Everything else fades away as he closes his eyes and surrenders to it all, blocking out the little voice in his head warning him that he can't have this, not really.

Mako climaxes first, but Wu’s not far behind. Afterwards, they’re panting and holding each other tightly, and Wu nuzzles his forehead against Mako’s cheek.

Is this what it’s like, to be with someone? He wakes up in the middle of the night, wrought with anxiety and fear, and he’s met with love, affection, comfort, and pleasure instead of bone-crushing loneliness. He could never have been this vulnerable with anyone he paid to sleep with him, but with Wu, he can.

Wu cleans them both up with a towel nearby, and he’s just as gentle and tender as he always is when he touches Mako intimately. Wordlessly, Wu lays beside him, pulling Mako’s body close. Mako rests his head on Wu’s chest, finally falling asleep with his ear pressed over Wu’s beating heart.

He tries to forget that he doesn’t deserve any of this.

A couple of days have passed, and Mako’s getting more anxious by the moment. He and Wu both wait for any word that Bolin will arrive ahead of Kuvira, but Mako is starting to feel as if the walls are closing in on him. Wu attempts to comfort him, but Wu’s affection can only do so much.

Mako imagines a few different scenarios, and all of them end poorly.

Bolin might completely ignore or reject him. He might take one look at Mako and decide to turn him over to the police. Or Bolin might actually be willing to talk to Mako, but not believe anything Mako says about Kuvira. Why should he, after all? If Kuvira has been doing good things, in Bolin's eyes, why would he take Mako’s words over hers?

Wu is more anxious in his own right as well. Mako can understand why. Up until a few nights ago, Wu had expected he wouldn’t live to his coronation. He’d expected death, but death hadn’t come. What is someone supposed to do, when they’d planned to die, and then they have to live?

Wu’s been good at living like there’s no tomorrow. Now he’s actually taking his future and safety more seriously. He doesn’t want to leave the suite except when he has to. 

Mako is more than happy to stay hunkered down in the hotel room, and he doesn’t miss going to stupid social events with people who hate Wu and mock him. Though he does stupidly miss doing things with Wu in the city—things like getting smoothies and exploring the Harmony Park district. All the little adventures Wu loves to take him on.

But they can’t go on any adventures right now. Not with their secrets already trickling out into the world. Mako’s work will surely be exposed sooner or later, and the fact that he and Wu are sleeping together has already become the worst kept secret with anyone they encounter. 

Still, being stuck in the suite isn’t the worst thing in the world. Wu helps him take his mind off things, helps them both forget what lies ahead.  

“So what is your favorite color?” Wu asks, picking up a dumpling and popping it into his mouth. Mako raises an eyebrow at the unprompted question.

“Uh… Red, I guess,” he answers honestly.

“Hmmm, a little predictable, don’t you think?” Wu asks, his voice veering into a teasing tone. “A firebender who likes the color red. I’m a little surprised that it’s so unsurprising.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Mako says, picking up a dumpling and turning it over, gently blowing away the steam that rises from it. Wu had ordered dumplings from room service after asking Mako what his favorite food was. And Mako has to admit, he might be ruined for cheap dumplings forever. The dumplings from the four elements are exquisite.

“Why red?” Wu asks, and Mako kind of wants to answer, wants to tell him about the red scarf he keeps but never wears… But it hurts so much to talk about, and Mako just wants a moment of not hurting. 

So he shrugs instead.

“What’s your favorite color?” Mako asks. “If you say green, you’re a hypocrite,” he adds, trying to match Wu’s teasing. He’s finding he likes the teasing and banter that falls from his mouth when he’s with Wu. It makes him feel normal.

“As a matter of fact, it’s orange,” Wu says pointedly. “And I happen to look quite good with a splash of orange in my outfits, at least on a neutral palette! I should have gotten airbending. I think I could pull off their traditional robes, don’t you?” He flashes a bright grin at Mako.

Mako laughs. “Sure, if you say so.” Wu would probably look good in anything. Also Wu looks good in nothing.

Wu chatters on, and Mako finds himself lost in the sound of Wu’s voice and the color of his eyes and knowledge that Wu cares about such simple details. Has anyone else ever asked Mako what his favorite color is? Not since he was a child. But Wu does want to know, and he wants to know Mako’s favorite food so he can feed him what he likes, and he wants to hear about other inane things like his favorite season and animal and music.

It's so easy, Mako realizes grimly, to forget what awaits them outside the walls of the hotel room. If he had no other care in the world, he might suggest to Wu that they simply stay here forever. But that's not possible, not with his brother's life at stake.

Mako feels uneasy, even as he feels so at ease with Wu.

Eventually, they must leave the suite. Wu must meet with his advisors and Grand Secretariat to finalize the plans for the coronation. Mako gets a sick feeling whenever he thinks of it. The Coronation looms closer and closer, and so does Kuvira’s deadline. 

Wu gets ready for the day in the large master bathroom, while Mako gets dressed in ‘his’ room. He moved his belongings to the spare room in the presidential suite, and endured Hira’s disapproving glare the whole time. She knows… Mako is certain. She hasn’t said anything yet, though. Mako’s not sure if that’s good or bad.

He still needs to coordinate with her on security measures, and he’s taking his role more seriously than ever now. He’s sort of a real bodyguard now, he guesses. And he wants to make sure Wu is safe. So he’s doing the job as well as he can.

He steps out of the suite after informing Wu he’s going to discuss the security arrangements with Hira. She’s sitting on a stool today, thumbing through a newspaper. It’s not exactly a problem for her to pass the time with some reading. Still, it makes Mako feel nervous. 

She’s still angry with Mako and Wu for getting her in trouble with Chief Beifong, but Mako heard that the Chief is long-gone by now, so it hardly seems fair for her to continue acting sour over it. Still, it doesn’t escape Mako’s notice that she looks at him differently now. Apparently he and Wu are incapable of being subtle. Mako could kick himself, because if they're that obvious, it's only a matter of time before the rumors get out of hand and reach the wrong people.

At least he’s used to the leering. Shin looks at him with disgust all the time. He hates it, but he doesn’t let it rile him up anymore. He won’t let Hira bother him either.

“Almost ready to head to City Hall?” she asks, barely glancing up at him.

“Yes, did you get the all-clear from the team on site?”

“Yup.” She folds the newspaper, closing it carefully. “City Hall’s security reported that they’re ready.”

“The police need to do a sweep, too,” Mako says, a protective feeling heating up in his chest.

“I know.” She narrows her eyes and frowns. He gets the feeling that she’s still upset with him for convincing her to abandon her post. “You’re extra concerned with his security these days.”

Mako eyes her nervously, uncomfortable with the sharp observation she’s made. It’s true, of course, but the increasing number of people who know about his affair with Wu is making him anxious. 

The more people who notice, the more likely it is to get back to Kuvira. And if she decides he’s not going to get the job done, Bolin might be in danger.

“I'm just doing my job,” Mako says stiffly. 

“Right…” She shakes her head. “It’s a huge conflict of interest, you know.” She crosses her arms disapprovingly.

Fuck. Can't she have the discretion to not call him out so blatantly? Maybe Wu should come out here. He’s great at changing the subject and flipping people's judgements back on them. All Mako knows how to do is deny.

Mako narrows his eyes at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies.

She rolls her eyes. “Look, I’m not an idiot. I know why you and His Royal Highness actually dismissed me the other night. Do I really have to tell you that sleeping with your charge is way over the line?”

Mako gives her an appraising stare. She’s got a history of blatant discomfort with Wu’s sexuality. But she’s remained meticulously professional in spite of it. Oddly enough, Mako gets the sense that she’s expressing concern about the conflict of interest, and nothing more.

“There’s no conflict of interest clause in my employment contract,” he says, which is obviously not the point. 

“You have to know it’s a bad idea, though, right?” she says with a frown.

She has no idea how bad of an idea it is. 

“It’s complicated,” he says instead. 

“I’ll bet,” she says, standing and placing the newspaper on the seat of the stool.

“Have you met General Kuvira?” Mako asks, changing the subject.

“Yes, once. When I was first assigned to the prince’s security, when she had officially been given authority to reunite the kingdom.” She averts her eyes and blinks quickly, drawing her brows up in concern.

“What do you think of her?” Mako asks.

“She’s… Stern. Commanding.” Her short, terse answer piques Mako’s interest.

“And…?” Mako asks.

“And nothing. It’s not my job to let my personal judgments affect my work. It’s why I’ve stayed on Prince Wu’s security detail all this time, in spite of… Well.”

“You don’t trust her,” Mako points out carefully, sidestepping her discomfort at Wu’s (and Mako’s) sexuality.

“No, but…” She looks back toward the doors to the suite. “It’s his problem, keeping her in line once he’s been crowned and he’s ‘ruling’ from Ba Sing Se.”

Mako takes a deep breath. He can’t reveal that Kuvira wants Wu dead, not now, not without exposing his job. But Hira has been a good security officer, in spite of her prejudices. She needs to be on high alert around Kuvira.

“When she gets in town for the coronation, keep an eye on her around the prince,” Mako says carefully. Hira furrows her brows in confusion. “We have to be extra careful when she and her people arrive.”

Hira purses her lips and gives Mako an uncharacteristically agreeable look. “I will. You don’t think she’ll… try something, do you?”

Mako’s not sure how to say ‘yes, absolutely, I know it without a doubt’ and not reveal his real job. “I’m not ruling it out,” he says instead.

Hira nods, and Mako can’t explain exactly why, but he feels relieved. She might not like that he and Wu are sleeping together, but she’s been more on top of his security than anyone other than Mako. If she knows to tread carefully around Kuvira, Mako will feel a little better when the time comes to face her.

Wu exits the suite and dons a bright, sunny smile. Mako can see the worry behind it, but Wu’s smiling face brings him comfort anyway.

“Well, all ready to go? We’ve got a coronation to plan!” Wu announces loudly. Mako notices Hira rolling her eyes slightly, but her posture and professionalism doesn’t change otherwise.

When they arrive at city hall, it’s not the news they were hoping for. 

“You’re Highness,” Gun says, rubbing his hands together in a nervous tic. “I did my best and exhausted several avenues, but my people were unable to contact the mover star you’d hoped to have at the ceremony.”

A pit of dread forms in Mako’s stomach.

Wu bolts upright in his seat and plants his hands firmly on the table. “What do you mean you were unable to contact him?”

“Well, I sent several radio messages and telegrams, but we were only able to get in touch with General Kuvira’s administrative officer. I was informed the Corporal Bolin will be unable to arrive early, as his current work is too important—”

“That’s unacceptable!” Wu says haughtily. “I explicitly said not to involve General Kuvira in your request—”

“I had no choice, there was no one else to contact!” Gun says fearfully. “But I was assured that they are all in route and he'll still arrive along with the General and her delegation the morning of the ceremony! I’ll be sure to discuss your wishes with him immediately upon his arrival! He can still play a role and—”

Wu abruptly stands and storms out of the meeting room, and Mako follows him. They step just outside City Hall, where Wu paces near a cluster of spirit vines. 

“Was this a mistake? Should we have—?” Wu bites his thumb nervously.

“I don’t know,” Mako says. “There was nothing else to do. But Gun said he’ll be here the morning of, so…”

“We just have to get to him quickly,” Wu sighs sullenly, his usual theatrics gone. “Mako, I hate that there’s nothing else we can do, that I can do… I wish I could… I dont’ know. I should… I should have more power than this, shouldn’t I? My great aunt could get anyone to do anything!” He steps closer into Mako’s space, and there’s an openness on his face. “What good is it, for me to be next in line for the throne if I can’t…”

“You never expected to be next in line for the throne, it makes sense that you wouldn’t have as much power to wield,” Mako points out, trying to comfort Wu. 

Wu wants to help Mako so much, he comforts him and makes him feel like maybe the world isn’t such a dark, bleak place. Mako is terrified for Bolin, but it’s not Wu’s fault that their plan isn’t working. He needs Wu to know that.

“And I’ve heard about your great aunt. I’ve heard she was cruel. You’re not cruel; you’re kind.” Mako wants to reach out and kiss Wu, even though they’re out in public.

“I love you,” Wu says, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Let's go back inside. Finish your meeting.” Mako says, then quietly adds, “I love you too.”

Mako’s nerves are shot as the clock feels like it's running out. He’s worried out of his mind for Bolin’s safety, but all he can do now is wait.

Mako and Wu have been sleeping together for a few days now.

Not just sleeping together. Literally sleeping together.

Mako has hated sleeping alone for as long as he can remember. He’d gotten used to it over the years, but he doesn’t hate it any less.

He remembers bedtime when he was a child, when his parents were alive and they lived in an apartment in the Green Meadows. They’d put Mako and Bolin to bed in their shared room, but Mako used to wake Bolin up and beg to climb into bed with him. Sometimes Bo didn't want Mako in his space. So Mako would sneak out of his room and try to get in bed with Mom and Dad.

Mom and Dad used to listen to the radio in the living room before heading to bed for the night. They'd sit on the sofa, Dad with his arms around Mom, and they’d talk about their day, about the music playing, about work and their plans for the next day or weekend. 

Mako would crack his door open and wait until they went to bed—if he’d come out of his room before Mom and Dad went to bed for the night, one of them would coax him back to bed, rub his back, sing him a song to try and get him back to sleep. And that was wonderful—Mako desperately longs for the kind of safety he felt dozing off with Mom’s fingers smoothing his hair or Dad’s hands rubbing his back.

But he liked climbing into bed with them more, and if he waited until they were settled in for the night, they wouldn’t make him go back into his room. They’d let him climb in and sleep safely nestled between them.

So he’d hold his breath and wait, watching them through the cracked door. They’d laugh and kiss and sometimes they’d slow dance in the small space of their living room. And they’d walk down the short hallway, past Mako and into their bedroom. Mako would wait as long as he could stand it before creeping into their room. They were usually still awake, reading in bed together. Mom would shake her head and sigh, but it was always with a smile on her face. She’d pat the space between her and Dad and Mako knew he was invited to curl up between them.

He always sleeps better with someone next to him. And Wu has welcomed him into his bed. It’s not even the sex, it’s just comforting to have someone there.

It’s… nice. There’s something warm and safe about sharing a bed with Wu. And there’s something so beautifully mundane about it. Dressing down, climbing into bed together, kissing goodnight… Like he’s just a normal person with a normal life. And then the morning routine—getting dressed, showering, primping in front of the mirror together. 

It feels like a dream. It also feels foreboding. It can’t last, right? Nothing happy ever lasts, in Mako’s experience.

“Mako?” Wu’s voice drags Mako back into the present. “Come to bed?”

The way Wu asks, so earnestly, gives Mako a fluttery feeling in his heart. 

“Yeah, of course,” Mako says, climbing into bed. Everything about this feels perfect, too perfect. Mako crawls over to where Wu is laying on his side. Wu’s wearing a soft nightshirt, and he reaches out to pull Mako in closer for a kiss. Mako lets Wu have his way with his lips, and when Wu pulls away, he reaches up and runs his fingers through Mako’s hair.

They lay down together, Mako resting his head against Wu’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. He clutches Wu carefully and closes his eyes. 

He shouldn’t let his guard down, but it’s so, so easy.

“Lightning bending, huh?” Wu focuses on Mako, leaning closer with curiosity shining in his eyes. “I've never seen lightning bending before.”

“And hopefully you never do,” Mako says, frowning. “It's dangerous. Lightning branches out easily. If you're too close when someone is lightning bending, there's always a risk of getting hit.”

Mako and Wu lay in bed together, Wu tracing his long finger across the contours of Mako’s bicep. Mako shivers slightly at the ticklish sensation. Wu is silent as he contemplates Mako’s response.

Wu has been careful with Mako, tiptoeing around certain subjects, but when Mako casually mentions he can bend lightning, Wu is interested.

“It sounds scary,” Wu admits quietly. 

“Yeah, it's definitely nerve wracking. But I…” Mako hesitates. Wu doesn't really ask Mako about all the details of his unsavory past. And Mako has never really talked to anyone about it before. “I had to learn.” Mako adds simply.

“Had to?” Wu’s eyes crinkle with concern. “Or else…”

“I needed to learn so I could work the protection rounds,” Mako says. The protection round gave him a better stream of income, though it still wasn't quite enough to really feed both himself and his brother. But it was more than his jobs as a runner earned him, and it was better than nothing. 

“Mako…” Wu inches closer, clutching Mako’s arm gently. “I wish you hadn’t had to…” Wu’s voice trails off.

Make resists the urge to bristle at Wu’s voice. Mako hates being pitied, and Wu’s voice is veering toward pity. But it’s not pity, is it? It’s… Love. Wu loves him. Wu wishes Mako hadn’t… suffered. And it’s frightening, for sure, to let Wu in on all that suffering, to be vulnerable with him.

He’s never let anyone see him vulnerable, not since he was a child. Mako is scared to keep going like this, to open up completely. But it’s so tempting, so enticing, that he can’t resist. He wants to crawl up with Wu and let himself be held.

“I wish I hadn’t had to either,” Mako confesses quietly. Wu responds by clutching Mako tighter.

“My parents died when I was young,” Wu says suddenly. Mako’s heart lurches to hear it. Mako knew Wu’s whole family had been killed in the riots, but he hadn’t realized Wu’s parents had been among those who’d died long before. “I don’t remember them very well. I was only three.”

“I’m sorry,” Mako says in a whisper. 

“It’s just happenstance. Random.” Wu speaks with a hint of anger in his voice.

“What’s random?” Mako asks, confused. 

“That I grew up safe and taken care of and you… weren't.” Wu nuzzles his face against Mako’s shoulder. “I got lucky. We both lost our parents, but I was born into a royal family, I still had… family. People taking care of me. While you were…”

Mako swallows hard. He knows he’s been unlucky his whole life. That’s just how life works, Mako knows by now. He did what he had to do with the cards that had been dealt to him.

“It’s not fair,” Wu concludes.

“Maybe. It’s how it is though.”

“Surely it doesn’t have to be like that.” Wu sits up and leans over Mako, staring intently into his eyes. “What would have made it better? What would have saved you from all of this?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it before. This is just what life is like, I guess.”

“Someone should have taken care of you,” Wu says, his voice wavering. “I can’t stand the thought of you being eight and having no one there for you.” It sounds like pity in Wu’s voice.

“It’s too late to change any of that now,” Mako says with a frown.

“For you, but… I see them. The kids. The ones who panhandle in Harmony Park. And it’s not just them, they’re all over the city, kids who either don’t have anyone to take care of them, or whose parents can’t or won’t take care of them. No one… No one’s doing anything about it.” Wu’s rambling is punctuated by sharp swallows as he seems to be fighting back tears.

“No, that’s just not how things work.” Mako says softly. It’s every person for themselves, where Mako’s from. Hustle or be hustled. 

“I could do something,” Wu says, his brows furrowed. 

“Like what?” Mako asks.

“I don’t know,’ Wu admits. “I never thought I’d…” Wu averts his eyes.

“You never thought you’d be King,” Mako finishes Wu’s sentence. “Hey, look at me—” Wu lifts his eyes and Mako sees guilt in his eyes. As if Wu has anything to feel guilty about. He’s kind and generous and he was put into a situation he never expected. How could he have known he’d be next—and last—in line for the throne? Before his entire family was killed, he was simply a University student.

“None of this is your fault,” Mako says softly. “You never thought you’d be expected to take the throne. Fuck, until last week, you thought you’d be dead by now.”

Wu leans down and kisses Mako carefully, slowly and leisurely. When he pulls back, he reaches a hand up and strokes Mako’s cheek. Mako closes his eyes and leans into the touch, relishing it, trying to block out the voices telling him he doesn’t deserve it, trying to forget the fact that there’s no way this will last.

When Mako was young, life was simple. They hadn’t had much; Mako, Bolin and their parents lived together in a small, two bedroom apartment in the Green Meadows industrial district. He and Bolin had their own beds in their shared room, and a handful of toys.

He sometimes wonders what happened to all their belongings, after Mom and Dad were gone. The officers who had found Mako and Bolin had discovered them cowering and frightened in an alley not far from where their parent’s bodies were discovered. There was no next of kin. There was no one to care for them. So they’d been allowed to pack up a few clothes and were sent to a foundling home. 

Mako had gotten Bolin out of there as quickly as possible. It had only taken a few days for Mako to see how horrible the conditions were to collect Bolin in the middle of the night and escape with nothing more than the clothes on their back. By that time, their old apartment had been emptied out and put up for lease. Mako’s whole world—his parents, the safety and shelter of their home, the small comforts that had made his life wonderful—gone within a couple of weeks. 

Well, not his whole world. He had Bolin. Dad had wanted Mako to keep Bolin safe. And that was the only thing that kept Mako going.

Now, Mako has just one thing left from his old life—Dad’s scarf. He doesn’t wear it. How can he? Dad would be horrified at all the horrible things Mako’s done. It would be disrespectful to his memory to wear it anymore, especially while he’s on a job. 

Instead, he has it tucked away in the rest of his belongings that he brought with him when he started this job. He glances at it when he happens to go through his things, such as when he’s getting ready for the day or dressing down for sleep. 

Wu hovers in the doorway to the second bedroom as Mako is pulling out some sleep clothes. Mako can feel Wu’s eyes trailing over to the bright red fabric.

“Never seen you wear that,” Wu says as he meanders into the room. Trepidation overcomes Mako as he sees Wu’s hand reach out toward the scarf. Wu doesn’t pull it out, though, he just strokes his fingers along the fabric once, then pulls his hand away. “What is it?”

“It’s a scarf,” Mako says quietly. “I don’t like to wear it… It belonged to my dad.”

“Oh,” Wu says, understanding washing over his face. “Do you… remember him? Your dad? Would you want to tell me about him?” Wu asks carefully.

Pain floods Mako’s chest at the mere thought of Dad, most of the time. Mako tries so hard to forget, to repress the grief that accompanies any talk of Dad, or of Mom. 

“You don’t have to!” Wu says, waving his hands frantically. “Just. If you want to.”

“He was from Ba Sing Se,” Mako says, and it's odd to speak about Dad aloud—he literally can’t remember the last time he discussed his parents with anyone. “He was so… fun. He could make anyone laugh, and he…” Mako starts to feel choked up. “He loved my mom so much, he was always telling her, and he’d always read with me and—” Mako shuts his mouth. It’s too much to think about, to remember what he once had and how much it hurt to lose.

Wu’s arms are around him in an instant, clutching him close. Mako buries his face in Wu’s hair and inhales. Spirits, they had loved each other.

Dad sets two small bowls of jook on the kitchen table. It smells delicious, and Mako gets especially excited when dad sets a bowl of kimchi out for him and Bolin to spoon onto their breakfast.

“Careful, boys, this is a little spicy,” Dad says as he sets spoons out for them. Mako eagerly leans forward and scoops a generous helping of the kimchi into his bowl—he likes his breakfast spicy. Bolin is more cautious, putting only a small spoonful onto his own jook. 

Bolin still has to sit up on his knees to reach the middle of the table. Mako is big enough that he can sit at the table like a grown up—even though his feet don’t reach the ground and the table is only chest level. Still, he likes being this tall, especially now that he’s eight years old. 

“Good morning, boys,” Mom says as she walks into the kitchen. She’s wearing a robe and has a sleepy smile on her face. Dad always gets up early on Saturdays and Mom sleeps in—and tomorrow it’s Dad’s turn to sleep in while Mom gets up.

“Morning, beautiful,” Dad says, and he gives Mom a big grin. Mom giggles, and Mako rolls his eyes as Mom steps into Dad’s space and gives him a kiss on the lips. Gross.

“I want a kiss!” Bo shouts indignantly. Mom and Dad press their foreheads together and laugh, though Mako doesn’t know what’s so funny. Mom goes to Bolin’s side, bends down and gives him a loud kiss on the cheek. Bolin laughs and rubs his face where Mom’s kiss tickled him.

Mako cringes a little when Mom goes to his side next. He’s getting a little old for kisses from his mom, he’s pretty sure. But she spares him from too much embarrassment by kissing him quickly on the top of his head. 

Dad spoons some jook into another bowl and presents it to Mom with a flourish.

“Mmmm, smells good, sweetheart.” Mom takes the bowl and holds it close to her face so she can inhale and enjoy the scent. Instead of setting it down on the table and eating it, she places it on the counter next to the stove, and wraps her arms around Dad’s shoulders. Dad puts his hands on her waist and tugs her in close. They kiss again and Mako resists the urge to gag. 

Bo barely pays attention to Mom and Dad, he’s eating his jook quickly, taking lots of breaks to chug his glass of water. He didn’t put very much kimchi in his bowl, but it’s too spicy for him anyway. 

“Slow down, Bo,” Mako warns him as he sees Bolin eating too fast. “You’ll choke.”

“I wanna play!” Bolin says, and then he quickly spoons the rest of his breakfast into his mouth. He always eats so fast. Once he’s done, he takes another big gulp of water and hops down from the table, barrelling back into the hall toward their bedroom.

“I want my own room,” Mako says, leaning back and crossing his arms, feeling grumpy. Bolin plays so loud and he’s so rambunctious. Mako kind of just wants to read and Bolin’s always making so much noise that it distracts him.

“Mako, sweetie, you still don’t like to sleep alone,” Dad points out. Mako’s face heats up with embarrassment. 

“I can sleep alone!” Mako argues.

Mom lets out a small sigh and bites her lip. “You know what, someday maybe we can move somewhere bigger and you can have your own room. But you have to share with your brother right now.”

“But,” Dad adds, putting his arm around Mom’s shoulders as they present a united front. “If you want a break from him, you can go read in the living room. Maybe you can even read to me! How does that sound?” 

“Fine,” Mako says with another eyeroll. 

“I know it’s hard being a big brother,” Dad says, walking over to the table and crouching down to Mako’s height. “But one day, you two will be best friends!”

Mako lets out a disagreeable grunt and continues eating his breakfast. Dad shakes his head and stands tall, walking back over to Mom. Mako tries to ignore Mom and Dad as they lean against the counter, with their hands all over each other and doing gross stuff like rubbing their noses together and spoon feeding each other. Ugh.

When Mako had been a child, he hadn’t really understood how special his parents were. He took it for granted that they loved each other, that they were a perfect match, that they got along well and treated each other with patience and kindness. Mako took it for granted that they had been so good for each other, that they’d been so good to him and his brother. He’d been lucky, the first eight years of his life. His luck ran out, but while it had lasted, it was so, so good. 

Wu is silent as he holds Mako through his sorrow. Mako feels lucky again, to have Wu, to be held by Wu. To be loved by Wu. How much longer before this luck runs out?

The night before the coronation, Mako is a mess. Every worry tumbles around in his head, discordant and confusing. He can't hone in on one specific worry, so they all work together to give him this dread deep in his stomach. He tries not to panic or freak out, but he's pacing the suite like a crococat. He tries to still himself, standing at the foot of the bed in the master bedroom and watching Wu. 

Wu sits on his side of the bed, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His posture is stiff and Mako notices the way Wu bites his lip and stares at the floor. He’s nervous too—as he should be. Kuvira will be here tomorrow, and Kuvira wants Wu dead.

Mako runs a shaking hand through his hair as he imagines all the ways tomorrow could go horribly wrong. But what can he do? He feels like he’s gone over every option, every angle, and he can’t figure out how to guarantee Bolin’s and Wu’s safety.

“Hey, my big, tough guy,” Wu’s voice pulls Mako out of his panic spiral. Mako blinks a few times as he lets the sight of Wu’s soft green eyes draw him back to the present. “Come here. You look like you’re about to climb the curtains.” Wu pats the space next to him.

Mako bites his lip and considers sitting, but he sort of feels like he’s going to tear his hair out and crawl out of his skin if he doesn’t keep moving. How can he just sit when it feels like the world is about to crumble around him?

After he’s silent for too long, Wu stands and pads over to Mako, throwing his arms around him.

“Mako, hey… I know, I know,” Wu says softly as he gently pulls Mako back toward the bed. “I’m scared too, but all this frantic pacing around isn’t going to help anything.” Wu lightly falls back to sit at the foot of the bed, reaching out and clasping his hands around Mako’s.

Mako forces himself to take a deep, steadying breath, then slowly sighs it out, leaning down as Wu pulls him. Wu flops backwards as Mako tumbles forward, catching himself with his hands on either side of Wu’s shoulders.

“I just wish I knew what was going to happen,” Mako says. Wu grips Mako’s face with both hands and pulls him down into a kiss. 

Kissing has become routine in a way Mako had never expected. Wu’s kisses still thrill him, still fill him with affection and desire, but now they’re starting to become second nature. He doesn’t question Wu’s kisses anymore, and he doesn’t question his own impulses—he simply kisses Wu whenever the mood strikes him. Mako never knew what he was missing out on, all those years he’d gone without kisses like this.

The normalcy of the kiss anchors Mako to something real and safe. It calms his racing heart and lets him push his fears down for the time being.

“Me too, big guy.” Wu says as Mako pulls back slightly to catch his breath. Wu runs his fingers through Mako’s hair, and Mako leans into it, closing his eyes and just feeling. “I wish I could do more. All I can do is offer a distraction.”

“I wouldn’t mind a distraction,” Mako says, pressing his lips against Wu’s neck.

“Distraction it is,” Wu says, his voice low and sultry as he runs his soft fingers down Mako’s sides.

Wu’s very good at distracting Mako from his worries. Mako shouldn’t be surprised, hasn’t Wu been distracting himself from all of his own worries? Distractions are Wu’s specialty. 

Wu props himself up on his elbows and scoots all the way up on the bed, and Mako follows, crawling on the bed toward him. Wu hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and slowly starts to pull them down. Mako reaches up and pulls them down the rest of the way, freeing Wu’s cock and sending a wave of arousal through Mako.

Wu reciprocates and deftly removes Mako’s clothes, and it’s not long before Mako has Wu pinned down, kissing him deeply. Mako grips the soft sheets as warmth spreads through his body, from his head to his toes.

Wu moans softly into Mako’s mouth, and the vibrations of Wu’s voice send a pleasant chill through Mako, from the base of his skull to the end of his spine.

Without warning, Mako feels a rush of guilt. What right does he have to fall into bed with this beautiful prince, while his brother’s life hangs in the balance? Why should Mako get to enjoy all this affection and comfort and pleasure when he hasn’t done a single thing to earn it?

Wu’s fingers and lips and tongue all work in conjunction to send Mako into ecstasy once again. Mako clings to Wu tightly, holding for purchase as if something might yank him away the second he lets go. He’s less than a day away from his world changing forever, so it really does feel like something or someone might tear Wu away from him forever…

Mako blocks all those thoughts out. No, he doesn’t deserve all this pleasure, no, it can’t last, but how can he say no? He wants to be more like Wu, and enjoy whatever small comforts he can.

And Mako makes sure to reciprocate every bit of pleasure Wu gives him, and he tries to enjoy the gratification that always accompanies Wu’s pleasure. Mako doesn’t deserve Wu, but he can certainly make sure Wu gets all the pleasure he deserves. And there’s something so satisfying about seeing the effect he can have on Wu. He’s learned exactly where and how Wu likes to be touched, and it's certainly a nice boost to his ego to hear Wu cry out his name.

Once they’re both spent, they lay in bed together, panting through the aftershocks. Their limbs are tangled together and Mako clings tightly to Wu. Mako’s breath slows in tandem with Wu’s, and he can feel Wu’s racing heart start to slow down with each beat. Mako’s mind isn’t exactly calm and quiet, but after releasing all the tension built up inside him, his thoughts feel more manageable.

Wu adjusts his positioning to pull the covers over both their bodies. He relaxes, gently resting his hand on Mako’s shoulder as they both lay on their sides and face each other.  Mako pitches forward and presses a kiss into Wu’s hair, the curls tickling his face.

“We should try to sleep,” Wu says into Mako’s neck.

“You’re right. I don’t know how much sleep I’ll be able to get, but—”

“Hey,” Wu interrupts. “There’s nothing else you can do tonight except get as much rest as possible for tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Mako doesn’t know what will happen tomorrow. Everything might go horribly, terribly wrong. He has this sinking feeling that he’s going to lose everything. But when Wu presses their bodies together and the solid warmth of him anchors Mako back to the here and now. Wu’s right; the only thing he can do to make anything better is to sleep. 

He tries to block out all the thoughts rushing around in his head, holds Wu close, and closes his eyes. He fully expects it will be a fitful sleep, full of tossing and turning, full of nightmares and wakefulness, but he lets Wu’s presence overwhelm his sense in hopes that he’ll be able to fall asleep and stay asleep, leaving him well rested for whatever he has to face tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Mako stands nervously in the ballroom of the Four Elements Hotel, his heart pounding despite his best efforts to remain calm.

The symbols for the Earth Kingdom Army adorn banners hanging down from the walls and balcony. There’s appetizers and drinks, and several important people in attendance. It’s a welcome party, all in all. The president and First Lady, all of Wu’s advisors, several politicians that Mako recognizes but can’t name (though Mako does note that Commissioner Chao is nowhere to be seen.) It’s certainly an event where Wu is expected to hob-knob with the elite.

It’s familiar, but not in a good way. His least favorite outings have been events like this, where he’s forced to watch the political maneuverings of high society. He’d rather be exploring the streets of the city with Wu clutching his hand, or hunkered down in the hotel room where he and Wu can tangle their limbs together and hold each other tightly and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist…

None of that today. Kuvira will be here soon. Mako’s on high alert, worried about what’s to come.

“Perhaps we should greet her at the train station,” Mako hears Wu say to the President.

“There’s no need, Your Highness, Grand Secretariat Gun and a small delegation will greet her and her top officials, then a motorcade will bring her to the hotel.” President Raiko raises an eyebrow. “After this little meet and greet, we’ll head over to City Hall and begin final preparations for your coronation this evening… Is everything alright, your highness?”

“Of course!” Wu lies. Mako knows when Wu is lying and putting on a show, and it’s in full force right now. Wu’s terrified. Mako would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified too.

Mako keeps close to Wu, but notes that Hira is nearby on high alert too.

Kuvira’s delegation arrives late morning, with less fanfare than Mako had expected. 

Kuvira marches in with her chin held high and a calm neutral expression. The glimmering light of the ballroom’s chandeliers reflects off of the metal on her General’s uniform. The harsh, deep greens of the Army attire makes her sufficiently imposing without being show-y. It’s much different than the first time he saw her in the low light of Zolt’s office.

Mako’s eyes dart around, but there’s no sign of his brother. Mako watches vigilantly as a few soldiers enter the ballroom, but no Bolin in sight. He’s got to be here—

Mako’s heart stops as Kuvira approaches, accompanied by Grand Secretariat Gun. Gun is looking terrified, clutching his hands together and clenching them nervously.

“Prince Wu, you remember General Kuvira,” Gun says, biting his lip. “I, uh, spoke with her about—”

“There’s no need for you to be here,” Kuvira interrupts Gun and Gun flinches slightly. “You have plenty of other business to attend to.” Kuvira turns her head away from Gun to dismiss him. He nervously backs away and returns to the rest of Wu’s royal cabinet.

Mako holds back the chill that threatens to shiver through his body at the sight of her so close to Wu.

“Prince Wu. You're looking well.” Kuvira doesn't acknowledge Mako at all. He tries to hide how frantically he’s looking for Bolin.

“Why thank you, General Kuvira, you're looking good, yourself!” Wu cranks up his charm into overdrive, but Mako knows how frightened he is. Mako wants to drag Wu away, to put himself between Kuvira and Wu and threaten her so she never puts a hand on Wu—but he has to find Bolin…

“I spoke with Grand Secretariat Gun as soon as we arrived. He mentioned your request.”

“Request?”

“Yes, for the mover star, Corporal Bolin, to participate in your coronation ceremony. I'm sorry to say that won't be possible.”

Mako feels a pit in his stomach.

“What?” Wu huffs in a display of irritation. “Why's that?”

“There’s been an accident.” Kuvira doesn't take her eyes off Wu, there’s no doubt she’s talking to Mako.

“An accident,” Wu repeats, and Mako can hear the shaking in Wu’s voice. 

“A tragedy, really. He was such a promising, loyal soldier.”

Mako starts to feel the world turn foggy around him.

“He was working with my science officer, assisting him. They’d made an exciting discovery. Renewable energy from spirit vines.” Kuvira speaks calmly and clearly, never taking her eyes off Wu.

“Kuvira…” Wu's voice is not confident or charming anymore. It's full of terror. Mako should rush over and pull Wu away from her. But Mako can't move. It's like his limbs are trapped in mud.

“Unfortunately the vines’ energy proved more volatile than they expected,” Kuvira says, and her eyes go downcast for a moment, as if she is truly saddened or regretful. “There was an explosion, about a week ago, on the train as we traveled from Gaoling. We believe both died instantly, which is a mercy, in its own way.”

Wu’s posture is stiff; all traces of his performance of being charming and easygoing are gone. “You—”

“It's been wonderful catching up with you, Your Highness.” Kuvira interrupts. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some errands to run before the meeting with you and your advisors. There’s a security deposit I need refunded.”

Her tone is calm and professional, and her words are carefully chosen. She doesn’t look Mako’s way, but it’s clear that she’s taunting him, she’s gloating. She’s just barely acknowledging the hit she placed on Wu, presumably referencing her payment to Zolt. She’s confident and cruel and Mako starts to feel his vision tunnel…

Mako doesn’t hear Wu speak, but he realizes after a moment that the whole world has lost its sound, and it’s like nothing around Mako is real.

Suddenly, Kuvira’s eyes are on Mako. Her expression is cold and emotionless, but it snaps Mako back to reality for a moment.

“You might want to check on your bodyguard,” Kuvira says, fixing her gaze back to Wu. “He’s looking a little pale.” She turns and walks away without another word.

Wu spins around and is at Mako’s side in an instant. Wu’s hands are on him, he’s tangentially aware, but he can’t feel them, not like he usually does. 

An accident.

No. No no no. It’s not real. It’s a dream, a nightmare. It has to be. He’ll wake up any minute now.

“Mako, Mako,” Wu’s speaking to him, he realizes, but it’s muffled, as if Mako is underwater.

A tragedy.

“C’mon, big guy, we’re going back up to the room—” Wu pulls on Mako’s arm, and he goes with him easily. He somehow manages to put one foot in front of the other, even though he can’t feel his legs.

An explosion.

Mako is in the elevator, suddenly. The steady dings punctuate the air as the elevator presumably carries them to the top floor. Mako leans against the wall as his knees give out.

“Hey, I’ve got you, come on, we’re almost there,” Wu says as he grabs Mako’s arm and drapes it over his shoulders, hoisting Mako back up before he can fall to the floor.

The elevator reaches the top floor and the doors slide open. Mako leans on Wu slightly as they step into the hallway. The presidential suite isn’t far, and Mako is absently aware that Hira is standing posted at the door.

“Your Highness! What’s wrong with hi—”

“Just help me get him inside!”

“Is he hurt?’

“No, he’s not injured, he’s just…”

Mako is inside the suite now. They deposit him on the sofa.

“Prince Wu, Mako, wha—”

“Can you leave us alone, please, Officer Hira?” Wu’s voice is steady and polite.

“Beifong chewed me out the last time you—”

“Just go back to your post. Outside the door,” Wu says in a more forceful and commanding tone.

Mako is absently aware that the door shuts and he and Wu are alone in the suite.

Died instantly.

“Mako, Mako…” 

Mako’s eyes refocus. Wu sits next to Mako on the sofa. He reaches over with both hands, bringing them to Mako’s face. He turns Mako’s head to look toward him and holds tight. Mako lets his eyes close, hoping that when he opens them, none of this is real.

It’s a nightmare, right? Like the nightmares he still has of his parents, screaming, then silent as they fall dead. Any second now, he’ll wake up…

“Look at me, Mako, look at me,” Wu says. His voice is clearer, the feel of his hands on Mako’s face is the only thing anchoring him to reality. Mako slowly opens his eyes. Wu’s brows are drawn up, creasing his forehead, his green irises are glistening with tears. 

Mako opens his mouth to speak, but the words get caught behind a choking sob.

“Oh, Mako, I’m here. I’m right here. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Wu wraps his arms around Mako and pulls him close. Mako buries his face in Wu’s neck and another sob erupts from his throat.

Not a nightmare. He can feel the world growing sharper, more tangible by the second. Died instantly. Died. Dead.

Bolin is dead. 

Mako has fucked up. Monumentally, he’s failed so catastrophically. This was inevitable, he realizes. From the moment Wu threw open the doors to the presidential suite and dragged Mako into his life, Bolin’s fate had been sealed. Mako hadn’t seen it then, he hadn’t realized that Bolin was doomed. He thought he could do it, he thought it was a logistical matter, to simply calculate the least risky, most effective way to eliminate the heir to the Earth Kingdom. 

If he’d realized, back then, that he could never hurt Wu, then maybe he could have had a chance. A chance to protect his brother. But he was too late. It’s too late.

Wu’s arms are around him and that’s the only reason he doesn’t collapse in a sobbing heap on the floor. 

He isn’t sure how long they sit on that sofa, Wu holding Mako, Mako sobbing into Wu’s neck. He clutches at the lapel of Wu’s jacket and Wu strokes his back, murmuring softly into Mako’s hair. Murmuring things like I’m so sorry, and I’m here, and I’ve got you.  

Tears don’t come easily for Mako, usually. But ever since he took this job, tears have escaped more often than any other time in his adult life. But this full body, chest shaking, wet faced, dripping nose sobbing has only ever come two other times that he can remember. After his parents died, and after he left Bolin to become Zolt’s hired killer. Both times, he’d sobbed alone.

This is the first time someone’s held him through it.

No one ever held him like this. No one until Wu.

Mako isn’t sure how much time passes as he desperately clutches at Wu and buries his face into Wu’s neck. It could have been a few minutes, or it could have been an hour, but eventually his body can’t sustain the sobbing anymore. It’s just sharp, irregular gasps as he tries to take in enough air. Wu’s fingers are gripping him tight and Mako can feel the warmth of Wu’s breath on his scalp where Wu’s mouth and nose are pressed into Mako’s hair. 

“Mako…” Wu whispers, “ Mako, I’m so sorry.”

Mako opens his mouth, hoping his voice comes back and not more wracking sobs. 

“It’s not your fault… It’s mine—” Mako says, his voice hoarse. It’s Mako’s fault, it’s all his fault, everything. Dad trusted Mako to keep Bolin safe. He couldn’t. Mom wanted Mako to be good. He wasn’t. Bolin wanted to make a difference in the world, to make the world a better place, to help people—and now he can’t. 

“Mako, listen to me. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault,” Wu says, pulling back and gripping Mako by the shoulders. 

Mako can’t make eye contact with Wu, he lets his eyes fall downcast. Mako feels the tears trying to well up again, but he’s not sure he has anything left in him to cry out. Wu’s wrong, dead wrong. He doesn’t fully grasp Mako’s monumental failure, he doesn’t understand. All those years of murder, all the horrible things he’d done, they were justified, but only if Bolin was okay.

With Bolin dead, it’s all in vain. Every person he’d poisoned, electrocuted, drowned, burned… They died for nothing. Twenty-three people, dead. Twenty-three sets of family and friends mourning for the loss of a loved one. Twenty-three times his hands have been stained with blood, twenty-three times he’s ruined his soul beyond repair, twenty-three times he’s dishonored and disrespected his parents’ memory… All for Bolin, and now, all for nothing.

It’s all his fault. He should have—

“Look at me, Mako. It’s not your fault. Here—” Wu pulls out a handkerchief and gently wipes Mako’s face dry. “I’m gonna get you some water, hang on.” He stands up and hurries to the kitchenette.

“I should have drank it,” Mako says in a hoarse whisper.

“What?” Wu says as he walks back with a glass of water.

“Nothing,” Mako lies. He shouldn’t have said that out loud, not to Wu. Wu, for whatever reason, loves him. He shouldn’t tell Wu what he regrets now. He should have given in to the impulse to drink the poison when it had struck him—had that only been last week, when Wu had drank the wine that Mako didn’t poison, when Wu had kissed him and held him and loved him like he’d never been loved before?

“Here, drink,” Wu says, holding the glass of water out. Mako doesn’t want it. He feels like he could be sick and isn’t sure he could keep it down. But Wu has a frightened look on his face and Mako knows he’s a mess. He’ll upset Wu if he refuses. So he accepted it and manages to choke down a sip. He sets it down on the coffee table, and tries to ignore the disapproving look from Wu at how little he drank.

“The coronation.” Mako’s heart pounds as he remembers that Wu is expected to meet with his advisors and Kuvira.

“I’m not going,” Wu says firmly. “You can’t go, not like this. And I’m not leaving you.”

“She’s… She’s going to—she’ll use it against you. She’ll try to seize power–”

“I don’t care about that!” Wu practically shrieks. Mako wonders how thin the walls are, and if Hira can hear Wu’s voice. “I don’t care. She can have it! She can have the whole kingdom, I never wanted any of it anyway!” Wu’s eyes are full of angry tears as he stands over Mako, his hands fisted at his side. 

Mako can feel the lump forming in his throat, and he doesn’t think he can sob anymore. His body is too tired. Everything inside him hurts too much.

“Come here,” Wu says, his voice calmer, softer. He unfists his hand and holds it out to Mako. Mako slowly reaches out and puts his hand in Wu’s. Wu’s hands are so soft, so slender, and so deceptively strong. 

Mako is in the worst agony of his life, and yet he feels sort of numb, like he’s been so overwhelmed with pain that he’s gone into shock. But Wu’s touch feels good, and maybe Mako will feel guilty later, about how it staves off his misery—doesn’t Bolin deserve to be mourned? Doesn’t Mako deserve to be in pain? But for now he takes whatever shred of comfort he can latch onto.

After all, whatever comfort he has, it won’t last. He’s known this whole time that love only brings him pain.

Wu manages to get Mako to eat, though he can’t stomach much. He manages to choke down a few bites of rice and a small cup of bone broth. Wu isn’t happy with how little it is, but he doesn’t push Mako to eat more.

Wu has shut them away in the suite, refusing any visitors—at one point slamming the door in Gun’s face after telling him he’s not to be disturbed for any reason. Hira’s got a key to the suite, but she doesn’t use it. Wu’s normal melodramatic theatrics have shifted into viciously fierce aggression toward anyone who tries to pass through the threshold. Hira probably isn’t sure how to deal with it.

Mako feels sort of frozen, like he’s in a daze. He keeps hoping that maybe this is a nightmare, but he knows this is real.

It’s his fault. All of it. He did horrible, awful things, and now the universe or the spiritual powers are punishing him. He’s paying for every terrible choice he made—every life he’d taken, every unearned comfort he’d stolen. 

If only it had been Mako who died. It should have been him. Not Bolin. Mako. Mako should be dead right now, and Bolin should be alive. The world would be a better place that way.

There’s banging on the door, and Wu emerges from the bedroom, dressed down in lounge clothes to indicate he has no intention of going anywhere or doing anything. Wu looks angry and his footsteps are heavy as he hurries to the door to yell at anyone who hasn’t gotten the message yet that Wu isn’t to be disturbed.

Wu throws the door open. “I said I’m not to be disturbed for the rest of the—”

“Prince Wu!” Hira’s voice is sharp and irritated. “You two have been in here for hours. Do you have any idea what’s happening?”

“I don’t care,” Wu says, crossing his arms stubbornly. Hira glares at him, and Mako can see her calculating something in her mind. After a moment of contemplation, she squares her shoulders, then forces her way past Wu and into the suite.

“Hey!” Wu says frantically. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You need to hear this, Your Highness,” she bites out as she approaches the radio. She flips it on and adjusts the dial until the static clears and a voice can be heard through the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen! I'm coming to you live from City Hall, where Earth Kingdom General Kuvira has just taken over what was supposed to be a coronation ceremony for the next in line to the earth throne! Naming herself “The Great Uniter”, General Kuvira has declared the Earth Kingdom is no more! She has stated she will now rule over all the states she has united under a new banner, the Earth Empire!”

Earth Empire. It’s just like Mako thought. Kuvira may have wanted Wu dead so she could seize power without interference, but with Wu hiding away in his hotel suite, it’s not much effort for her to name herself the ruler over a new nation. How can the rest of the world leaders push back against her when the only remaining heir to the throne refuses to attend his own coronation?

A recording plays after the reports.

“It was the corrupt, negligent monarchs that caused the Earth Kingdom to descend into such incredible disarray. It's taken me three years to get it back on track, and there is no way I will allow it to slip back into the dark ages. Even now, the supposed heir to the throne can’t be bothered to attend his own coronation ceremony, choosing instead to luxuriate away like the spoiled brat he truly is.”

“I'd like to make an announcement to the world: the Earth Kingdom is no more, the monarchy has no authority. I have created a new Earth Empire, and I will continue to lead it into the future myself, bringing about a new era of prosperity for my people. And let me assure my fellow leaders of one thing: Anyone who crosses our borders or stands in our way, will be crushed—”

Wu shuts off the radio, cutting off the recording of Kuvira, biting his lip in worry.

“Prince Wu,” Hira says, irritation all over her face. “Do you fully grasp what this means? She’s taken power, she’s—”

“I don’t care!” Wu says, an air of petulance to his words. “I don’t care about that, about her—”

“Look, Your Highness, I’m not going to pretend to know much about politics, but—”

Mako can’t quite focus on what Hira and Wu are saying. It’s all sort of fading into the background. Everything’s falling apart. Kuvira has killed Bolin. She’s seized control of the entire Earth Kingdom, renaming it an empire for her to rule over, like some kind of dictator. She’s terminated her contract with Zolt, Mako assumes, and Mako’s going to pay for it.

Wu has no power. He never really had power, but now, there’s not even a pretense of power. Perhaps there’s an upside to all this—if Wu has no power, is he even a threat to Kuvira anymore? Would she even bother to attempt to harm Wu now? She has a low opinion of him to begin with, and the only reason she’d hired Mako to remove Wu from the equation was so she could take power without a fuss. But now, she’s simply taken what she wants. Maybe there was a fuss or pushback from the other leaders at first, but as far as Mako can tell, she has all the power she wants. It’s not like Wu is challenging her.

Maybe Wu will be safe from her.

“What’s wrong with him?” Hira asks, snapping Mako out of his daze. It takes him a moment to realize she’s talking about Mako.

“He just lost someone,” Wu says, his voice growing increasingly frantic. “Hira, I appreciate the update, but I meant it. I don’t care. Just leave us alone, please?” Wu asks in a desperate voice.

“...Fine,” Hira says in a resigned voice. “I’ll check in on you in the morning.”

She leaves them, and Wu frantically locks the door. He holds the door handles for a moment after the tumblers click into place, pressing his forehead against the door as if he needs to collect himself for a moment.

“...Wu?” Mako’s voice comes out raspy and fearful, but all he wants is to bury his face into Wu again.

“I’m here,” Wu says, hurrying to Mako’s side. “I’m right here. It’s getting late, come here…” Wu tugs Mako to his feet, coaxing him through the bedroom door and into the master bathroom.

Mako feels like his body is moving on its own, simply doing what Wu directs him to do. Wu helps Mako undress; he turns on the shower and they shed all their clothes, stepping in. Mako closes his eyes and feels the perfectly hot water stream down his face. Wu is whispering softly, telling Mako he loves him, and that he’s not going anywhere, and that he’s sorry.

When they’re clean and dry, Wu leads Mako to bed. He pulls him in and wraps his limbs around Mako, pressing their bodies together.

“Wu…” Mako whispers hoarsely.

“Yeah?” Wu tips his head back and looks in Mako’s eyes, searching. “What do you need, what can I do?”

“I…” Mako isn’t sure what to say. Because in truth, there’s nothing Wu can do. Not really. Because what Mako needs, Wu can’t give him. He needs his brother back. He needs his parents back. He needs to turn back the clock. He needs to go back to a time when he was young and innocent and safe.

Mako’s heart lurches in pain again as a realization sweeps over him. 

He can have what he needs, in a manner of speaking. He can have his brother. His parents.  

They say your soul passes through the spirit world after death before moving into the unknown beyond, into the afterlife.

Wu stares at Mako expectantly, waiting for an answer. He can’t tell Wu what he really needs. So he’ll tell Wu what he wants. And he’ll have another brief, unearned, undeserved moment of comfort, of happiness, of love, before he has to do what he needs to do.

“I want you,” Mako says, and he presses his lips against Wu’s, tasting him and memorizing the feel of his lips.

Wu’s uncertain as he stills at Mako’s kiss. He pulls away, pressing his fingers against Mako’s lips. “Mako, are you sure?”

“Please,” Mako says, resorting to begging. He doesn’t deserve it. But if Wu will have him, he’ll take what he can get.

Wu is silent for a beat, considering what Mako has asked for. Mako hopes he’ll say yes. Mako knows he shouldn’t expect it, but…

Wu answers him by pressing their lips together and running his hands along Mako’s collarbone. Mako shudders in pleasure at the touch and lets the physical sensations block everything out—his sorrow, his grief, his regret, his pain.

Wu gives him everything he wants. Wu slides his perfect slender fingers inside Mako, he envelops Mako’s hardness in his mouth, he works his fingers and tongue in tandem until Mako is panting and begging and writhing… And it keeps all the horrors at bay, for the moment, and Mako lets go and he practically sees stars as he topples over the edge into his orgasm.

Before Mako can reciprocate, Wu has a hand on himself, tugging furiously at his length until he finishes while Mako catches his breath.

They lay together, breathing through the aftershocks. Mako clutches Wu tightly, terrified of what has to happen when he lets go.

Mako dozes off, getting a bit of sleep in the comfort of Wu’s arms. He doesn’t sleep well, and when he stirs awake, it’s still the middle of the night. Wu is asleep, and Mako holds his breath as he watches Wu for signs that he’s really out.

When he’s certain Wu won’t be woken by the slightest movement, Mako peels himself away, padding quietly to where his clothes had been discarded on the floor. He dresses quickly, though he forgoes the uniform jacket and simply wears his undershirt.

He quietly tiptoes out into the living area and locates a pad of paper at a small desk against the wall. He pulls out a pen and starts writing, taking his time and choosing his words carefully and intentionally.

When he finishes his note, he creeps back into the bedroom, silent and cautious. He folds the note carefully and lays it down on the night stand on his side of the bed—how did that become his side of the bed in such a short time?

Then, he carefully, slowly, silently pulls the dresser drawer open, removing the two vials that have been hidden there for the last week. Mako pockets them, and turns around to look at Wu one more time.

He’s beautiful. Mako’s heart aches for all that could have been, if things had been different. If he and Wu had met under different circumstances, would they have fallen in love so easily? Maybe, or maybe not. But he imagines in another world, they could’ve had a chance.

Not this life.

Maybe in another life.

Mako resists the urge to kiss and touch Wu once last time. He doesn’t want to wake him. It’s the middle of the night and he’s completely out of it. This is Mako’s only chance.

He creeps out of the bedroom and into the spare room, where all his personal clothes and belongings are. Mako pulls his own jacket on, fastening the stays and adjusting the sharp collar. He looks at the rest of his belongings. He doesn’t need much. Just Dad’s scarf. He indulges himself just this once, and wraps it around his neck, feeling the familiar weight of it. He feels safe, if just for a moment.

Mako takes a deep breath, pats his pocket to confirm that he has the vials, and quietly exits the suite.

Hira’s outside, and she looks at Mako with confusion when he creeps out quietly, pulling the doors shut so slowly that there’s not a single noise.

“What are you doing?” Hira asks, brows furrowed.

Mako takes a deep breath. He knows what he has to say.

“You were right,” Mako says magnanimously. 

“About what?”

“It was a bad idea. A conflict of interest. I made a mistake.”

Hira bites her lip and eyes him warily. “Really? So… What does that mean?”

“I ended things with Wu,” Mako says. And it’s only half a lie, because his note certainly does end things between them, even if Wu hasn’t read it yet. “And I quit.”

Hira’s eyes grow wide. “Really? That's… surprising, I guess.”

“Yeah, well. I have to do it. Listen, I know you don't… care for him, but… Kuvira’s still out there, and—”

“Hey, I'm not gonna pretend I like him. But I do my job well. One lapse of judgement aside…” she says, referring to leaving her post the night Wu had dismissed her. “Nothing's changed, as far as I'm concerned.”

“Thank you,” Mako says. And he means it. He knows Hira will stay on top of security, even if she finds Wu irritating and is disgusted by their relationship. “Take care of him. He’s… not what everyone thinks he is.”

Mako walks down the hall, ignoring Hira’s look of confusion. He boards the elevator, and when the door closes, he squeezes his eyes shut to stop more tears. 

“Goodbye, Wu,” Mako whispers now that he can't be heard.

Wu opens his eyes slowly, drifting out of an uneasy sleep.

Every morning, Wu has to recalibrate to the current reality he lives in. His family is dead. Great Auntie Hou-Ting was murdered by radicals and the rest of his family perished in the riots that followed. Wu survived only because his family had sent him away for being an embarrassment to the royal lineage, and now he’s the last in line for the throne. He’s a dead man walking, he’s destined to join the rest of them sooner rather than later. Everyone thinks he’s a joke—his advisors, his security team, every politician he’s ever spoken to, the public at large—everyone thinks he’s nothing more than a stupid, vapid socialite who, at best, might make an agreeable puppet. Everyone, that is, except Mako—

Everything from yesterday comes rushing back to him at once. 

Mako, Mako, Mako—

Wu’s whole heart aches in a way that he didn't realize was possible. Wu may have lost everything, but somehow Mako had lost more. Wu is overcome with the urge to fix things, but he knows it’s not possible. Mako lost the one thing that he’d been fighting for since he was a child. Wu barely has any power, and even if he did have power and could wield it competently, you can’t bring people back from the dead.

What a huge fucking mess. 

Wu sits up, realizing the space next to him is empty. 

“Mako?” Wu’s heart pounds as he looks around, listening for where Mako might have gone off to in the suite. He’s met only with silence.

Wu climbs out of bed and finds his clothes that he had discarded carelessly on the floor last night. He’s got to find Mako, he’s got to help him through this, he’s got to—

Wu’s heart stops.

The dresser drawer is open. The one with the poisons. The poisons meant to kill Wu. Wu glides over to the drawer quickly, his heart beating again but now thudding painfully in his ears. He checks the drawer. They’re gone. The poisons are gone. Wha—

Wu glances around the room. Before his brain can supplement a hundred different reasons that the poisons would be gone, he sees something on the nightstand that wasn’t there last night. A piece of paper, folded up neatly. Wu rushes over to the nightstand, the one on Mako’s side of the bed, and picks it up. Wu’s name is written on the outside of it…

With shaking hands, Wu unfolds the paper, and is met with a full letter taking up the entire page. He rakes his eyes over it, reading it and trying to stave off the panic rising within him.

Dear Wu,

I'm so, so sorry. For everything. For all the pain and fear and anxiousness I brought into your life. I know you’ve always acted like everything was swell, but I know you must have been scared for most of the time you've known me. 

I've fucked up so many times throughout my life, and I've caused so much pain, taken so many lives, and now my brother is gone because of my mistakes. It’s my fault he’s gone, not yours. You did what you could, and I’m so grateful for that.

I want you to know how much I love you, and how glad I am that I met you and got to be with you. When I was with you I felt happier than I had in years. I don’t think I could have ever killed you, you know. I think I started falling in love with you the second we met.

And as much as I love you, as happy as you’ve made me, I just can’t live with myself anymore. That’s not your fault either. It's just the way it is. I’m sorry to leave you like this, but I think we both knew that we wouldn’t be together for long. You’ll be better off without me anyway.

Be careful. Kuvira or someone else opposed to the monarchy might still try something. Keep close to your security guards and take care of yourself. If I'm watching you from the spirit world, I want to see you safe. I wish I could be the one to keep you safe, but I'm in no shape for that anymore. Someone else will do a better job than me. Don't make it difficult for them to protect you, okay? 

And don’t worry about me. I told you how I want to go. It’s gonna be painless. I’m leaving, going back home, taking the vials with me and by the time you read this, I’ll already be gone.

For the record: you’d make a great leader. You care about people. That’s important. You’re a good person and you’re going to make the world a better place, one way or another.

I’m sorry again. I love you. Goodbye

-Mako

Wu has to reread the letter several times before its meaning, its implications fully sink in. 

Goodbye. It’s a goodbye letter. It’s… oh spirits. The poison. ‘I just can’t live with myself anymore.’ It’s a suicide note. No, no, no, no!

Tears flood Wu’s eyes and he has to put the letter down. He’s gonna hyperventilate, he just knows it. His breaths come in sharp and painful and shallow and he’s crying and—

Wu crumples to the floor, leaning against the side of the bed. He draws his legs up and buries his face in his knees.

How could this have happened? Wu was there for him, holding him and comforting him and loving him and yet Mako still decided that he had to… Wu had been preparing himself for so many outcomes of this entire mess, but Mako deciding to take his own life was not one of them!

This is Wu’s fault. He’d kept those stupid little vials—why? So he could use them on Kuvira? So he could make Mako use them on Kuvira? What was Wu thinking? Maybe if he’d dumped their contents down the drain, Mako wouldn't have… he wouldn't have…

Wu suddenly leaps to his feet. What if Mako’s not gone yet, what if he just left? Wu rushes out of the bedroom, through the living area, all the way to the entrance of the hotel suite and throws the doors open with all his might.

“Your Highness?” Hira says, startled. She’s at her post, like nothing’s wrong, like Mako’s not—

“Mako. Where’s Mako?” Wu asks frantically. Hira’s nose crinkles up and Wu is so sick of her looking at him like that but he doesn’t even care right now, he just needs to know if there’s any chance that Mako is still—

“He left last night, Prince Wu.” She has her eyebrow raised in confusion. “He said that he’d… quit. That he already ended things with you.”

“What time?” Wu asks, desperation filling him.

“Hours ago. Just after midnight. Prince Wu, what’s going on? I thought… The way he spoke, he made it sound like you already knew—”

“Well I didn’t!” Wu snaps at her, immediately feeling guilt wash over him when she flinches. He adjusts his tone. “I didn’t. He left me a note, and now he’s…”

It’s been several hours since Mako left the hotel. He’s already gone. He’s gone, oh spirits, he’s gone.

Wu wants to be in denial about it. He wants to shake Hira and tell her to call the precinct and send officers out to go look for Mako, on the off-chance that he didn’t go through with it yet. He wants to think that Mako’s still alive, that maybe he’ll change his mind, that maybe he’ll come back, or maybe the police can find him and—

But Wu can’t do that, can he? He can’t send anyone searching for Mako, not without showing them the note. And he can’t show anyone the note, can he? Mako had said incriminating things in it. How can Wu explain any of it to Hira? He can’t tell her why Mako was here! He can’t have police officers searching for him, regardless of if he’s alive or dead.

And deep down, Wu knows Mako must be gone already. It’s been too long. If Mako had changed his mind, he’d have come back by now. He’s gone. 

“Prince Wu?” Hira has her brows drawn up in concern, and isn’t that rich? She’s barely tolerated him from the day she came onto his security rotation, and now she’s going to act like she’s worried about Wu! 

“Nevermind!” Wu says, waving his hands frantically. “I just. I didn’t realize he had decided to leave in the middle of the night. I—” Wu averts his eyes and tries not to let the tears spill out.

“Are you going to be okay? I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I know you two were… Well. Look. Breakups are hard.”

Wu almost wants to laugh. She’s relating to him now of all times? It’s for the wrong reason, but she’s showing a smidge of empathy. Unbelievable. And he can’t even be honest with her and let her sudden near-tolerance comfort him. 

“I’m fine,” Wu lies. “You’re right. Breakups are hard. Things got… complicated. I better—”

You’d make a great leader, Mako’s letter had said.

Mako is… gone. But he’d been the only one, really, to believe in Wu. And Mako’s life had been eye-opening for Wu in a way he hadn’t expected. Wu had started getting… ideas. Things he could actually do if he became King. Ways he could help people, kids like Mako had been. Wu had started thinking about all the families who live in poverty, and he’d been haunted by thoughts of Suyin Beifong wasting away in a cell somewhere. He’d been stoking a rising fire of indignation at what Kuvira had done…

Kuvira had hired Mako to kill Wu, and she’d threatened Mako’s brother, and then followed through on that threat. And then she’d simply taken control of the Earth Kingdom, threatening anyone who might try to stop her. And Wu had known she’d never hand power over to him, he’d known she’d probably have him killed, he’d known she was the type of person to crush anyone who stood in her way, but it had never made him this angry before. 

But now, Wu is angry. He can’t let Kuvira get away with all this, can he? He has to do something!

Wu takes all his sorrow and anguish and guilt and tries to redirect it into something constructive. Hira stares at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“I’d better focus on being a better ruler,” Wu says finally. “Can you secure City Hall? I’m going to arrange a meeting with my advisors and the President, to figure out what to do about Kuvira.”

“Uh. Yes. Right away, sir,” Hira says, shock plain across her face. Sure, Wu has been less than competent all this time but he’s got to do something now, doesn't he? To make up for all the ways he’s failed so far. He failed his family, his country, Mako…

What could Wu have done differently? How could he have saved him? 

Wu squeezes his eyes shut, pushing back the tears. He’s good at that. He’s good at pretending everything is just peachy. He’s been doing it for so long, smiling and having fun and enjoying what he can; it’s second nature by now. He can still do it. He can pretend like he isn’t devastated or terrified. He can meet with the president and his advisors and make demands and insist that they do something about Kuvira. He can leave all his sorrow in the hotel suite, and only return to it in the dark of night when he’s alone and can cry his eyes out without anyone seeing.

He can make Mako’s death, his life, mean something.

Mako sits on the floor of his apartment in the dark. He’s got his back against the side of his bed and his legs drawn up to his chest. He hasn’t been in his apartment in three months. It feels surreal to be back here. There's a layer of dust coating every piece of furniture. The dust and the quiet all make it feel unfamiliar. It’s not home anymore. Was it ever? It had always just been a roof over his head.

He’s alone. He hasn’t been alone yet, to sit with all his feelings. Wu had been there every second since Mako got the devastating news that his brother is—

Mako shakes his head, letting a couple of tears escape. He’s cried so much already. How does he have any tears left in him?

He’s got the vials next to them, but he doesn’t open them yet. He isn’t having second thoughts, just needs a minute. 

He holds Dad’s scarf, running his fingers over the woven fabric. Mako had been such a brat that day, the day his life had changed for the worse. He’d thrown a fit about wearing a coat outside. Mom and Dad had argued with him, tried to coax him to wear it. But he’d stubbornly refused because it wasn’t that cold out and he hadn’t wanted to lug it around. 

But it got colder, and he’d shivered, and Dad had wrapped his scarf around Mako without so much as an I told you so. That’s the only reason Mako had Dad’s scarf, the only reason the scarf hadn’t burned with his parents. Because Mako had been difficult for his parents. They had always been patient and loving and gentle, and he’d put up a fight over something so trivial.  

Sometimes, Mako blames himself. They’d stopped walking when Dad gave him the scarf. What if they hadn’t stopped? Maybe the timing would have been different and they would have missed the mugger entirely. Mako knows, logically, that is an unlikely scenario. That mugger had been waiting for someone, Mako can guess. He would have targeted them even if they’d passed the alley a few minutes sooner.

Still, right now, it’s hard not to blame himself for everything. It feels like they’re all dead because of Mako. 

Mako clutches the scarf tightly. “I’m sorry…” He whispers softly as more tears fall. It’s not enough to be sorry, but it’s all he has.

Mako would be lying to himself if he said he isn’t afraid to die. Everyone’s afraid to die, he’s pretty sure. He’s watched life leave people’s eyes so many times, and there’s usually fear, especially if they know what’s happening to them. That’s why he’s going to use the poppy extract. It’ll put him to sleep. He won’t feel anything. Maybe he’ll pass through the spirit world and see Bolin, if he’s still there. And then into whatever lies beyond. His parents are there, and even if there’s nothing after he takes his last breath, he’ll still be with them.

He lets himself sob a few more times. He holds Dad’s scarf to his chest and cries and wishes it’s all just a horrible nightmare. He knows it’s not, but he can wish, can’t he?

Enough dilly-dallying.

He wipes the tears away and stands up, laying the scarf on his bed and walking toward his small kitchen table. There’s a cheap bottle of whiskey in his cabinet. It’s not the good stuff—it’s watered down and weak—but it’ll mask the taste.

He holds the vials in his hand, clutching them tightly. He’s not shaking like he was when he tried to poison Wu’s wine. He’s ready—

There’s a loud crash as Mako’s door flies open. He drops the vials, which roll across the floor and he instinctively gets into a defensive position, but it all happens so fast— Shin and Tokuga and Mushi bust through the door. Mako almost slings fire at them but Shin has the jump on him and envelops Mako’s hand in water, freezing it instantly. The sudden cold makes him suck in a sharp breath, and before he can exhale and bring heat from his core to melt the ice, Tokuga rushes over in a flash. 

Tokuga jabs Mako a few times and Mako’s arm goes limp— fuck, he can’t move that side of his body, he can’t bend, he can’t—

Rock flies at him and pins his limp arm against the wall. Tokuga jabs him a couple more times and Mako is helpless, he can’t bend, he can’t fight, he can’t—

“Mako, my friend! We were waiting to see if you’d come back to the Flats! Zolt’s had folks keepin’ an eye on your usual haunts all day. He wants to have a word with you.”

“Let me go!” Mako struggles against the earth that Mushi bent at him, trying to wrench himself free. This can’t be happening, he can’t let Zolt take him, not after—

Tokuga pulls a small bottle out of his coat pocket. He and the other two lift their shirt collars up to cover their mouths and noses, and suddenly Tokuga sprays a red mist directly into Mako’s face. He isn’t prepared for it and he’s too late holding his breath. He chokes and sputters as the mist burns in his nostrils.

The world goes fuzzy at the edges, then it goes totally black.

Mako comes out of his drugged state slowly. Everything is murky, and he’s not quite sure where he is, when it is… He doesn’t even have a sense of his body yet—

No, wait, he does. Aching shoulders is the first thing he notices. Tingling in his hands. His neck is sore on one side and his legs are cold, so cold.

He slowly opens his eyes. There’s one light overhead, but it’s not very bright. There are shadows creeping out to the edges of the room—

Mako’s senses return, and he realizes with panic that he’s under the Triple Threat’s warehouse.

No, no, no, no, no…

He should have been quicker. Why had he sat there and sobbed into Dad’s scarf? If he’d just drank the poisons as soon as he shut the door to his apartment, he’d have been dead by the time they broke in. But he’d stupidly allowed himself to grieve all he’d lost, all he’d ruined.

They’d been watching his apartment. Of course they had. How could Mako have been so stupid? He was just so overwhelmed with grief and sorrow and regret, he hadn’t been thinking straight. All he could think was that he needed to be far away from Wu when he drank the poison—he didn’t want Wu to find him or see him after he died.

Mako glances around, trying to control his breathing so as not to hyperventilate. Firebending comes from the breath. A panic attack means no chance to use his bending. 

There’s no one in the room. It’s empty, and he can’t hear anyone or anything over his own breath and the panicked beating of his heart thundering in his ears. His hearing might still be muffled from being drugged, too. He’s got to get a handle on himself.

He breathes deeply and slowly, and the gas he was drugged with seems to wear off as all his feelings and senses get clearer and sharper. 

He’s sitting up in a metal chair. His hands are bound behind his back with metal as well—handcuffs, if Mako had to guess. No one in Zolt’s crew is adept at metal bending, so unless he enlisted help from one of the other triads, he probably used cuffs. Mako’s ankles are each shackled to the chair legs, as well. No rope, of course. He could set rope on fire, free himself or have some kind of weapon. Heating up the metal won’t do much good. He’ll scald himself before he can heat it enough to get to a melting point.

Mako tugs at each restrain experimentally. Everything’s tight. The handcuffs feel like they're attached to the chair, and the metal is almost skin tight. He’s not going to slip his hand or feet through, even if he tries to dislocate a joint. He rocks the chair. It doesn’t budge. He can’t lean over very well to see, but it must be screwed into the floor. 

Mako’s heart starts to pound again. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Once his panic seems to subside, he holds his breath and listens. Voices. He can’t make out what they’re saying, and it’s so muffled and faint. They’re probably upstairs. Maybe they’re talking about Mako, about their plans for him. Maybe they’re not talking about Mako, because it’s somewhat routine and mundane to have a captive in the basement, to make them wait for their horrific fate—Maybe they’re talking about the weather, or what to have for dinner, or who won the latest pro-bending match. All while unconcerned and unperturbed that Mako is down here continuously bouncing back and forth between being calm and rational to being on the verge of a panic attack.

Breathe. Deep breaths.

Mako doesn’t bother shouting. He’ll waste his energy. Zolt will come down here when he feels like it. He tries to relax his muscles, make little micro adjustments to his positioning so that he doesn’t completely lose feelings in his extremities. His upper back and shoulders are under the most strain, with his hands behind him and being unable to shift his arm placement. His back and his thighs are uncomfortable, but not in terrible pain. They’ve taken his shoes, and his bare feet are cold enough to start feeling numb against the concrete floor.

Mako has no idea how long he’s down there. He tries not to panic, he just tries to keep his pain minimal, and tries not to lose his mind as time passes. He tries not to think of what they’re going to do to him. He tries to let his mind wander somewhere else.

But there’s so few places it can wander. His grief is still so painful, so fresh. Just thinking of Bolin makes his heart ache and tears form behind his eyes. He can’t afford to start openly weeping now—not because he doesn’t want the Triple Threats to see him cry, but because he needs to conserve his energy to endure whatever they have planned for him. If he starts crying, he’ll dehydrate faster. His nose will stuff up and it will be harder to breathe. If he starts sobbing, his body will lurch and ache even more.

So no thinking of Bolin, or Mom, or Dad. 

He thinks of Wu. Beautiful, fun, ridiculous Wu. He thinks of the smell of Wu’s cologne, he thinks of the feel of Wu’s skin, he thinks of the sound of Wu’s voice, the taste of Wu’s lips, the soft green of his eyes…

Mako closes his eyes and just makes himself think of Wu and all the wonderful things they'd done together. All the adventures he’d taken him on—the smoothies, the tower, the zoo, the speakeasy…

Yes. Wu. He can get lost in thought and endure time passing if he thinks of Wu. 

He’s doing well, he thinks. He doesn’t know how long he’s down there, but he manages to doze off, even. Get a little sleep. Real sleep, not the drug induced coma he’d been in when they’d brought him here.

He’s not sure how long he’s out, but he’s awoken by the sound of footsteps. Panic starts rising in him, but he wills it away. Panicking will only make it worse. He’s got to stay calm.

The door opens. Shin steps in first, but only to hold the door open for Zolt. Zolt’s got an unlit cigar in his hand. There’s laughter from all the guys behind him, like they’re all walking in after a good joke. Viper, Ping, Mushi and Tokuga filter in after Zolt, and Shin closes the door.

Their laughter dies down and no one speaks while Zolt lights his cigar. He takes a puff, and the smell of smoke hits Mako’s nostrils. Zolt only smokes the finest, most expensive imported cigars from the southern Earth Kingdom. Mako never cared for the smell, but it’s not as harsh as cheap cigarettes the other guys smoke. Mako can almost smell hints of bittersweet chocolate and coffee mingling with the tobacco.

“Mako, I can’t believe I had to bring you down here,” Zolt says after a few heartbeats of silence. 

Mako doesn’t respond, even though he wants to bite back and lash out.

“I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to figure out what the fuck happened, here. You’ve pulled off every job I ever gave you, but this one seemed to give you trouble…” Zolt casually meanders over to the wall on Mako’s right and leans against it.

Mako doesn’t say a thing.

“I’m not saying it shoulda been easy,” Zolt continues after Mako’s silence. “And I know the client’s timetable progressed a bit faster than originally planned. But three months was more than enough time, I think…” He glances over at the others. “What do you think, boys? Three months was enough, right?”

“I think the job woulda been easy,” Viper says with a laugh. “He didn’t even need to come up with his own cover! I coulda done it on the first night.”

“Maybe Mako got distracted, Boss,” Shin says. “You know what they say about that Earth Prince. Maybe he was just Mako’s type!”

Mako holds back the raging fire that wants to erupt at Shin. His breath catches involuntarily, and he feels a sick shiver inside of him, knowing he gave them too much of a reaction. 

“I think Shin might be right, but that should have just made it easier,” Zolt says with a chuckle. He turns his cigar in his fingers before taking another puff. “What gives, Mako? You couldn’t take him out while you had him in bed?”

Mako closes his eyes and takes a slow, steady breath.

“I gotta say,” Zolt steps forward, standing over Mako. “I’m very disappointed in you, son.”

“I’m not your SON!” Mako snaps, blurting the words out before he can stop himself.

Zolt scowls, and he slaps Mako across the face with his free hand, sending a percussive thud through his head. Mako’s jaw aches and his face stings, and the shock of it has him breathless for a moment.

“You got mouthy the last three months, didn’t you?” Zolt says. “I thought we had an understanding. I thought we had a good thing going! I took you under my wing, I protected you, your brother—”

“Shut up,” Mako chokes out. Bolin. Bolin’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone—

Zolt backhands him across the other cheek, and Mako can feel the sharp cut of Zolt’s ring break the skin.

“Don’t you fucking interrupt me! I was saying, I took care of you! I made sure you had enough cash to live comfortably, to enjoy your whores and your drink, and enough extra to send little Bolin’s way—”

Mako’s body shakes with an involuntary sob.

“And what thanks do I get? The biggest job ever, the biggest payout ever, and you couldn’t do it. You cost me four million yuans, do you understand?!” Zolt’s shouting in his face now.

“Three million,” Mako says softly. His head’s hanging limp and he keeps his eyes shut.

“What was that?”

“Three million,’ Mako spits out, lifting his head defiantly. It's a stupid thing to say, to argue about, but the words fall out of his mouth as he thinks of Wu's indignation at how little Mako is compensated for such horrific work. “My cut is twenty-five percent. One million was mine.” 

Zolt actually laughs. “You dumb son of a bitch. Did you actually think I was gonna give you a million yuans? You hearin’ this, boys?” The others laugh along with him.

Mako squares his jaw as Zolt and the others laugh at him. The cut across his cheekbone drips blood. His whole face is stinging. Zolt's right. It was incredibly dumb of Mako to think he'd get all that cash. No way Zolt would have ever given him that much, given him the means to get out of the triad life...

“Mako, I know the deal. It was never about the money, it was about your brother. Your dead brother, I’ve been told.” Mako can't help the shaking sobs that wrack his body at the cruel reminder of what he’d lost.

”The client informed me of your failure and it’s consequences when she demanded I refund her fucking deposit.” Zolt presses his cigar against Mako’s shoulder, and his shirt only protects him for a microsecond before the searing pain shoots through him.

He knows it’s going to end poorly, but his reaction is almost out of his control. He intakes a sharp gasp of air, and he exhales a blast of fire.

Zolt swipes his hand across the flame and disperses it, then reaches out and grabs Mako’s neck, squeezing tight. 

Mako’s blood pounds through the veins, fighting to reach his head. He is tangentially aware he’s making a pitiful croaking sound as he desperately tries to breath through Zolt’s strangling gasp. Mako’s vision tunnels and he sees sparks before Zolt lets him go.

Mako hyperventilates immediately, gasping in short, shallow gasps of air.

“Don’t try to bend at me again,” Zolt says in a warning tone.

“Just kill me already,” Mako says between breaths. He doesn’t want to go this way, tortured to death. He wants to fall asleep with dad’s scarf and never wake up.

“I’m not gonna kill you, son. I’ve invested too much in you.” Zolt interlaces his fingers and stretches them out, cracking his knuckles. “Alright, boys. I’ve got work to do. Get him to the cell.”

Mako feels panicked again. He thought he knew what to expect, that they’d beat him to death in this chair. But Zolt’s not planning on killing him, he’s planning on imprisoning him? To what end?

Tokuga approaches first and jabs at Mako several times, chi blocking him again. His arms and legs go limp. Viper produces a key and unlocks the shackles that hold him to the chair. He and Shin heft Mako up and don’t give him a chance to try and walk. They just drag him across the room as Mushi earthbends an opening on the other side of the room. Mako’s knees scrape painfully across the concrete as they walk through it and into a rough hallway, clearly made through earthbending recently. Ping brings a flame to his hand and leads the way, casting light through an otherwise pitch black hallway.

They turn a corner and there’s a solid metal door. Viper unlocks it and swings it wide open, and it’s just a small, empty room, save for a chain bolted into the ground with a cuff attached to the other end. They dump Mako in unceremoniously and clamp the metal cuff around his neck. He lies on his side on the floor, hands still bound behind his back and metal shackle around his neck and ankles weighing him down.

And then they leave.

It’s pitch black, which is horrifically disorienting. He’s chi blocked, so he can’t bend a flame for light. He can’t roll over and lay on his back because of the way his hands are bound. He’s too limp to sit up. So he just lays there, joints and muscles aching, his forehead resting on the cold concrete, blood still dripping from his cut, and the burn on his shoulder radiating pain outward.

He’s so, so tired. He always worried he’d end up here some day, but he hoped he’d meet a swift end. Instead, Zolt’s going to keep him. Like an animal, a pet. Collar and leash and everything. What does he want to keep Mako alive for? Is there a real purpose, or is he just intent on punishing Mako? Drawing out his pain for as long as possible?

He closes his eyes, which makes the pitch black of the room less maddening. Deep breaths, he forces himself to breathe—slow and steady. He lets his mind wander back to thoughts of Wu. He imagines Wu’s hands caressing his body, Wu’s lips against his skin, Wu’s arms wrapped around him and holding him tightly…

He dozes off, and gets a small reprieve from the ache and pain in his body and his heart.

He is scarcely aware of what’s happening when he’s violently brought out of his sleep. 

“Time to wake up!” Shin delivers a switch kick to Mako’s gut, forcing Mako to let out a pained, sputtering cough.

His eyes hurt from the light that Ping brings in as they unchain him and drag him back out before Zolt. The chair is gone. They just drop him on the floor in the middle of the room. Mako sits up on his scabbed knees and blinks a few times to try and adjust to the light.

“Mako, son, did you have a nice time-out?” Zolt asks with an infuriating smugness.

“Just get it over with and kill me, already,” Mako chokes out, his voice cracking from disuse.

“We already said that’s not gonna happen.” Zolt looks disinterested. Like this is boring for him. “You know, it’s a real shame about your brother.”

Mako squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t think about it, he just can’t. It hurts too much and it’s sadistic of Zolt to talk about it. He’d rather they just start beating him.

“This all could’ve been avoided, you know. If you’d done your job,” Zolt says with a despondent sigh. “And now we can’t even try to salvage the contract. You know, you could’ve come to me, let me know you couldn't do it. We could have worked something out! Shin and Viper could have finished the job before it was too late.”

Mako tries to bite back a sob, but it escapes, making his chest shake. Mako sees Zolt’s expensive shoes meander in front of him. He crouches in front of Mako and gently lifts Mako’s head with a finger under his chin. Mako has no choice but to look Zolt directly in the eye.

“I’ve always looked out for you, haven’t I Mako? I could have helped you. Instead, you just putt around until you went and got your brother killed—”

“Stop, please, just stop,” Mako says as his tears start up again.

“Stop what? Telling you the honest truth? You got your brother killed.” Zolt pulls something out of his jacket pocket. It’s a newspaper. He holds out the front page for Mako to see.

There’s a story about how General Kuvira has taken the Earth Kingdom and declared it her Empire. And just beside it, a picture of Bolin. It’s from the army recruitment posters, which Bolin had been the face of when the campaign to bring stability back to the Earth Kingdom had started. Above the picture, a headline: NukTuk Star, Bolin, Perishes In Service Of The Earth Army. 

Another sob wracks Mako’s body. He can’t read the print of the article because the tears in his eyes make his vision too blurry. He clenches his eyes shut, not wanting to face the photo of his brother, smiling, happy, proud, alive.

“Hey, hey! Stay with me here, son. I know your sweet baby brother was the only reason you kept working for me. And I know you’re spiraling, probably trying to figure out a way to get yourself killed as quick as possible here. But I’m telling you, you’re not gonna die yet. You’ll still be useful to me, as an example—”

“No!” Mako snaps. “Just fucking kill me already! I’m done, I’m done, I’m done…” Mako can’t stop himself from sobbing sharply. He doesn’t want to keep doing this, to keep suffering… The second they give him a chance he just wants to end it.

“No, Mako. You’re not going to die yet, you hear me?” Zolt’s voice is gentle. Like he cares. Like he’s trying to comfort Mako. It makes all of Mako’s emotions twist up inside.

Everything hurts, his body and his head and his heart—he just wants it to stop. He just wants to go to sleep and not wake up. It’s not fair, it’s not fair—

“Take him back,” Zolt orders the others. Shin eagerly approaches Mako, and Mako snaps, blowing a flame toward Shin. Maybe if he fights back hard enough they’ll have to kill him. Yeah. That’s it. Fight to the death. That’s what Mako has to do.

Shin protects himself with a swipe of water from his canteen, but he doesn't attack Mako. Everyone freezes, silent as they wait for orders from Zolt. They’re not allowed to kill Mako. They have to wait for permission to attack.

Mako’s whole body hurts and he can’t feel the sun, but he’s not chi blocked anymore, so he pushes through the pain and gets up from his knees. With his hands bound behind his back, he can’t balance properly but he brings his leg up, then back down in the widest swipe of flame he can manage without falling to the ground. Shin dodges and parries with his water, and Mako turns to the others, assessing who he can try and lash out at next. Tokuga holds his weapons tight, Viper seems ready to defend, Mushi is dug into the ground… And Zolt simply stands there, an amused smile on his face.

Mako grits his teeth and decides, on a whim, to make a run for Mushi first.

He doesn’t make it. He hits the ground, hard, after something wraps itself around his ankle. A water tendril, he realizes. He doesn’t know if it was Shin or Viper, but without his hands free to catch himself, his chest bears the full impact of the fall, and his head hits the concrete hard enough to bring more tears to his eyes

“You done, Mako?” Zolt asks, like Mako is a child throwing a temper tantrum. “Go on, boys. Get him to the cell.”

Mako can’t even fight back, his chest hurts and he’s still trying to catch his breath. Mushi manhandles him, picking him up with a hand under his arm, dragging Mako away again, toward the dark hall—

“Wait!” Zolt’s voice rings out through the room. “Don’t want him to get bored, do we? Here—” He tosses the newspaper toward them. Ping catches it. “Something to read.”

They drag Mako back into the dark room, tossing him on the ground and chaining him to the leash on the floor. Ping tosses the newspaper on the ground nearby, and once again, the door shuts and Mako is in the pitch black again.

His hands are behind his back, but now that he’s able to move, he decides to try and shimmy his arms to his front instead. He’s flexible enough, even with the sharp pain in his chest and head from his fall, and the painful burn on his shoulder.

With his hands in front of him, he flicks a flame to life, bringing light into the small, empty room. He’s suddenly wrought with an intense sense of claustrophobia, knowing he’s underground and there’s no escape.

He breaths through his panic, forcing himself to remain calm, and keeps his flame alive. He glances to where the newspaper lays on the floor across from him. He can’t stand up—the chain attached to his neck is too short—so he shuffles over on his knees to look at it again.

He forces himself to look. Bolin looks so strong, so proud. He wears an earth army uniform, his hair is meticulously slicked back as he beckons the viewer to commit to joining the military and restoring Peace on Earth—

Mako doesn't pick up the paper—his hands are still bound together by cuffs and he’s afraid he’ll burn the paper if he picks it up while keeping the flame at his fingers alive for light. So he sits on his knees, looking down and reads the article. It discusses all of Bolin’s accomplishments—pro-bending champion, mover star, companion to the Avatar, and esteemed corporal for the Earth Army. It also divulges details of his… end. An explosion on a train, like Kuvira said. He was assisting the science officer, Iknik Blackstone Varrick, in an experiment on spirit vines. Then, tragedy struck and—

Mako extinguishes his flame, an afterimage persisting in his eyes for several seconds. He can’t read that anymore. He can’t think about Bolin, about his final moments. Spirits, he hopes it was quick and painless. Mako doesn’t know anything about spirit vines, about what kind of power they hold and what an explosion involving them might be like. But if the universe has even a shred of kindness toward Bolin, it would have been quick and painless. That’s all Mako can handle thinking, if he start imagining his brother in pain—

More sobs shake Mako’s body painfully. His sternum hurts, and he’s got a lump on the side of his head. He still has a cut on his face and a cigar burn on his shoulder, and he’s certainly going to have bruises on his side where Shin kicked him awake. He’s not sure how many more injuries he can take. 

He can bend, and for a moment, he wonders if he could kill himself that way—self immolation? As much as he hates to admit it, he’s too scared to try. He’ll likely pass out before he can finish himself off, and his innate protection from his own flame would be difficult to actually kill himself…

He can’t strangle himself in here, not with the length of the chain. Maybe he could smash his head into the wall—no, that won’t work. Electrocution? Generating lightning and guiding it toward his heart instead of around it? It could work, but he’s worried he’ll have the same problem he might run into with fire. Reflexes, innate survival instincts. He might succeed only in injuring or maiming himself.

He has no idea how long he's been down here. He has no clue how long he was unconscious when they first drugged him, or how long he had slept. The newspaper has a date on it, but who knows if it's from today? 

He closes his eyes and tries to feel the sun. It's difficult, down here, underground, but he thinks it's there. He can sort of feel its energy with his chi, so he can guess it's daytime, but he's not sure how early or late in the day it is.

Mako carefully lays down on the hard, cold floor in the pitch black, closes his eyes, and tries to ignore all his pain so he can fall asleep.

He wakes with the dawn, he’s sure of it. Now that the drugs have left his system entirely, he's attuned to the daybreak again, even underground. It's disorienting since it's pitch black, but it's there. The sun has risen. 

He’s probably been here for a day. He missed daybreak yesterday because of the drugs in his system, but everything feels sharp and clear now.

That's somewhat unfortunate, because it means everything hurts worse than before. The burn wound on his shoulder throbs with his heartbeat—fresh pain a couple times each second. His lips are painfully chapped and dry, and his stomach gnaws at itself in hunger. There’s pain in his chest and his side, joints aching where he's been bound, his head is pounding, and the cut on his face stings. It's not cold enough for him to get frostbitten, but it's cold enough that his toes and fingers are slightly numb in a painful sort of way.

The newspaper must be nearby. With a pained groan, Mako pushes himself up so he’s sitting. The chain hanging from the cuff around his neck rattles, the weight of it painful on his chest. He’s sure he’s got bruises from his fall, but that’s the least of his worries right now. 

He brings a flame to life again. The newspaper, the one with Bolin’s smiling face—the face that will never smile again—lays nearby. He almost wants to set it on fire so he doesn’t have to look at it, but burning an image of his brother feels wrong on many different levels. So instead, he looks away from the paper and keeps his flame alive for warmth.

He breathes and brings feeling back to his fingers and toes with his breath and his fire, and he wonders what he can do to bring all of this to an end.

Fighting back is all he has left. He knows he doesn’t stand a chance, he’s counting on it. He just has to make them use deadly force.

It’s disorienting, being in the dark like this. He has no idea how much time is passing, but as restless as it makes him, he can’t bring himself to look at the newspaper. He can’t think of Bolin right now. He’s got to focus on how to get out of this mess.

Eventually, they come for him. Ping comes through with a flame of his own, and what a pitiful sight Mako must be, huddled up in the middle of the room with one small flame. He can’t even lean against the wall because the chain that keeps him bolted to the center of the room is too short.

“Alright, Zolt says you gotta eat,” Shin appears behind Ping with a bowl. He carefully sets it on the ground, just in front of Mako. Shin is on guard if Mako tries to attack. Mako’s looking for an opening, sure, but he’s in pain and he can’t stand up. If they take him back out into the main basement room, he can fight and force them to attack, rather than just subdue. But here, he’s not going to accomplish much except more bruises and pain.

There’s plain, white rice in the bowl, and Mako is starving. He’s not a stranger to hunger, but because he spent so much of his life desperate for food, all his instincts tell him to eat while he has the chance. He’ll need his strength, right?

He thinks about protesting, but his hunger wins out. He extinguishes his flame and reaches out, picking up the bowl and brings it to his mouth, eating slowly. Because he’s not a stranger to hunger, he knows better than to eat too fast. 

He feels all their eyes on him, and he can’t even bother to feel humiliated. At least they didn’t force him to eat it off the floor. He just looks down and eats directly from the bowl.

“So, Mako, how are we feeling today?” Ping says brightly. Mako doesn’t answer.

“You know, it’s a real shame,” Shin has one hand in his pocket as he casually leans down and picks up the newspaper. “I always had a soft spot for that brother of yours. Too bad he bit it.”

Mako clenches his eyes shut. They keep tormenting him by talking about Bolin. It’s worse than the physical pain they’ve inflicted on him. Not to mention, Shin’s a liar. He hated Bolin—or rather, he hated the fact that Bolin never had to do any work because Mako kept him out of the game.

Mako finishes the rice, awkwardly scooping the last clump of grains out and eating them out of his hand. He sets the bowl down toward Shin and keeps his eyes down. Being alone in this dark room is maddening, but Shin mocking him is worse.

“Kinda thought you’d put up more of a fight,” Shin says as he picks up the bowl. “You know, Zolt only said you had to eat, but if you ask real nice and say pretty please, I’ll give you some water too.”

“Fuck you,” Mako says in a rough, biting tone. Apparently, that’s all the goading Shin needs. Before Mako can react, Shin bends water at him, covering his face. Panicky reflexes set in as Mako holds his breath, tries to call up a flame to his hand, tries to yank his head back to pull away from the water—but Shin’s control over his element is disciplined enough that Mako can’t find relief, can’t breath, no air, he’s drowning, he’s—

Shin releases the water and it splashes to the ground. Mako sucks in a few sharp, desperate breaths, trying not to hyperventilate but failing spectacularly.

“We’ll be back later,” Shin says with a smug grin. They file out of the room and lock Mako in the dark once more. He’s still gasping for air and now he’s wet and freezing. He’s got to get control of his breathing, warm himself up…

Mako feels like he’s slowly losing his mind with each passing moment in the dark, his whole body screaming in pain; and the only relief he finds is when he dozes off, huddled in a ball on the floor.

He can barely keep track of the time, but he can feel the sun, so he knows when each day passes. But he’s feeling groggy and dazed and he can’t remember how many dawns have passed… Two? No, maybe four? Five? They feed him, but he’s getting weaker. He finds himself aching and occasionally  he shivers violently, less and less able to control his temperature as time goes by. He’s no closer to death than he was when they first brought him here, but he is a lot closer to giving up.

Maybe if he just agrees to do whatever Zolt says, the pain will stop. When the pain stops, maybe he’ll be able to think straight and figure out how to escape.

He just wants the pain to stop.

At some point, he’s woken up by the sound of the door opening, and they unchain him and drag him out of the room. 

As soon as they’re in the rough, earthy hallway, Mako tries to fight back. He brings fire to his palm and blasts it outward, but Ping manages to blast it back. Mako’s back hits the wall, knocking the breath out of him. He barely catches himself by his hands as he collapses to the floor, weakened by everything he’s been through. Mushi delivers a swift kick to his ribs and Mako can’t even scream, he just lets out a voiceless wheeze of pain.

They heft him up and drag him out into the basement. Mako’s feeling disoriented and he realizes with horror that they have company in the basement.

Kids.

Teenagers, really. He doesn’t know all of them, though he recognizes a couple of faces. Including Skoochy, Mako notices with a touch of horror.

“This is what happens when you cross the Triple Threats,” Mako hears Zolt saying, though everything feels fuzzy around the edges, and Zolts voice feels like it’s underwater. “Now, I know things are getting a little hectic out there, but keep in mind, we’re a family, and I won’t tolerate betrayal!”

Mako idly wonders what Zolt means about things getting hectic. But he doesn’t have much time to muse on it, because someone’s yanking him up by the scruff of his neck, forcing him to his knees. Maybe Zolt changed his mind. Maybe he’s going to execute Mako here in front of these witnesses, to fully assert his power, Or maybe, Mako thinks with fresh terror, he’s going to force one of the kids to do it. A never ending chain of death. Replace Mako with a new trainee, force them to kill on his behalf.

“Mako, son—”

“I’m not your family, and I’m not your son!” Mako snaps, though it’s considerably less threatening than when he was first brought here. Zolt makes sure to backhand him again, reopening the wound on his face.

“He needs a little more time in confinement, I think.” Zolt says, nodding toward the others.

"No, no, no, please, just—" Hands grab him and start hauling him away. Mako struggles because he doesn’t want to go back into that dark room, left alone with his thoughts and his pain and no escape from his grief. But when he moves, every muscle in his body screams in pain and his head is throbbing and his shoulder feels like it's on fire and it’s like he’s being stabbed with a knife in his side where Mushi kicked him—

Zolt laughs at the way he struggles and Mako knows he must look pathetic to the kids as they watch on with fear. 

He’s not strong enough, though. He can’t fight back. Not anymore. Before he knows it, he’s alone in the dark again.

He isn’t really sleeping anymore, it’s more like he’s drifting in and out of consciousness. Breathing hurts, which he’s pretty sure means he has a broken rib, and the wound where Zolt burned him with the cigar is festering and throbbing in an excruciating way. His body shakes as he shivers from being freezing cold, while simultaneously sweating from feeling burning up. It feels like his heart is racing nonstop, and he's weak, so weak.

His mind doesn’t have many places to drift, and with all the aching, he’s having a hard time remembering what it was like to feel Wu’s touch. 

He feels himself drifting away, back into something resembling sleep.

The next time they enter the cell, Tokuga chi blocks Mako again, and it hurts more and more. They drag him back out and dump him on the floor of the basement. Mako clenches his eyes shut—the dim light is painful, even through his eyelids.

“That burn looks infected,” Zolt says casually as he stands by the door leading out of the basement and up to the warehouse. “Too bad I don’t have a healer on my payroll.”

“Just kill me...” Mako says, though his voice is quiet and raspy and he can barely get the words out coherently.

“Nope,” Zolt says casually. “Still got a couple plans for you.”

“We can’t try to evacuate with him, can we?” Ping asks nervously.

“We’re not evacuating, you idiot!” Zolt snaps. “We’re not abandoning our turf. I don’t give a fuck what they’re saying on the radio. Like I’m gonna give Jargala a chance to take the Flats.”

“Right, sorry Boss,” Ping says nervously. The word ‘evacuate’ slips into Mako’s mind, and he’s not quite sure what it means, what they’re talking about, but Zolt’s suddenly right in front of him, hefting him up by his hair. More pain, Mako is really surprised at how much pain he can take.

“Seeing you broken down like that really kept my runners in line,” Zolt says, tipping Mako’s head back and forcing him to look up into Zolts eyes. “I knew you’d be of some use to me. I figure I’ll never be able to get you to take on another hit again, but you do make for a nice pet.”

Mako wants to breathe fire but he can’t—he can’t call on his chi; he can barely move.  

Zolt lets go of Mako and he manages to stay upright on his knees. Zolt pulls a small flask from his chest, unscrews the lid, takes a small swig, then dumps the contents out onto the burn wound. Mako actually screams. It’s fucking agonizing, the liquor burns worse than anything he’s felt yet.

“Maybe that'll help,” Zolt says with a shrug. 

Mako can’t think straight. His shoulder burns, every joint aches, and his body feels like it's reaching a breaking point. Is it possible to die simply from being in too much pain? 

He’s back in his dark cell and he doesn’t even remember them bringing him in. He must have passed out. He’s done, he’s just done. He can’t take any more. He just wants it to stop .

He’s been drifting in and out of consciousness. The pain in his shoulder is incessant and he’s struggling to breath deeply. Things just keep getting fuzzier and fuzzier around the edges.

Everything is blank. Nothing feels real or tangible anymore. He can’t feel the sun. He’s lost all sense of time. He can’t move his limbs, even if he tries. There’s just darkness and emptiness and pain. 

He deserves this. He deserves it all. 

“My fault,” Mako says to no one. He’s losing it, he knows. He’s just talking to himself now. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“I know you love Bo,” a familiar voice whispers in his ear. “You didn't mean to hurt him…”

Mom?

He’s definitely losing it.

Mako closes his eyes and lets the sound of Mom’s voice drift through his mind. It's not her voice, not really. It’s just his mind playing tricks on him, probably. Even so, it's drowning out the pain.

“He’s dead because of me, Mom…” Mako whispers hoarsely. 

“Come here,” Mom says, and her voice is full of love and warmth. “We can make it right!”

“No, I can’t,” Mako whispers, keeping his eyes scrunched closed. “I can never make it right…” 

Mako’s head is pounding. His heartbeat is loud in his ears, irregular and reverberating through his body.

“I know it’s hard being a big brother,” Dad’s voice adds to the pleasant sounds that are pushing him past his pain. “ But one day, you two will be best friends!”

It is Mom and Dad. Maybe his mind isn’t playing tricks on him. Maybe Mako is finally dying, and maybe he actually gets to be with them again.

But if that's the case, where’s Bolin?

His pain is slipping away with each moment. He teeters on the edge of consciousness, and maybe this is it. Maybe this is how he finally dies…

Mako feels the weight of the shackles disappear. He can almost feel Dad’s arms around him, lifting him up and cradling him, and—

“Mako? Mako?”

“Is he alive?”

“He’s breathing, but his pulse is way too fast—”

“He’s burning up, even for a firebender, can you heal him?” 

“Yeah, but it'll be easier if we get him out of here—”

“Mako, we’re gonna get you out of here, you hear me?” Dad says, and Mako’s eyes flutter open slightly, and he can actually see Dad—hazy and fuzzy, but he’s there, red scarf and all. He’s holding Mako. Yes. This is it, Mako’s dying, finally.

“Dad?” Mako asks, his voice barely a whisper.

If Dad answers, Mako doesn't hear it. Everything goes dark, and Mako feels himself succumb to the sweet numbness of oblivion.

Chapter Text

Bolin is kind of a slow learner.

When Bolin was a kid—a little kid, like, really little, little enough that he barely remembers it—he had been a bit… rambunctious. Okay, a lot rambunctious. Running, jumping, knocking things (and sometimes people) over. When he had started earthbending, he had to learn not to be quite so wild. Mom and Dad had been endlessly patient with him, but neither of them had been benders, so when both their kids started bending, they were a little out of their element! (Heh. Element.) 

His brother had been easy for Mom and Dad to teach. Cool under fire, always in control (he never set anything ablaze by accident no matter what, not the way Bolin had accidentally broken a lamp when he stomped his feet during a moment of Big Feelings). 

Still, Bolin figured it out. He learned to connect and disconnect from the earth at a moment’s notice, to feel the living vibrations in the ground and call on the earth when—and only when—he needed it. He could be a slow learner, sometimes it took him a while to figure stuff out. But he always figured it out eventually. 

And when he’d lost his mom and dad, he learned, gradually, that everything they’d taught him—about being good and kind and honest—was no longer true. Being good didn’t get you shelter. Being kind didn’t get you food. Being honest didn’t keep you safe. He learned it slowly, excruciatingly, bit-by-bit, but he learned it all the same. (Unlike his brother who seemed to have absolutely zero qualms about immediately abandoning every value and moral that their parents had taught them.) 

And when Bolin had found himself on his own, (when his brother had left him, walked away to do spirits-only-knew-what for the Triple Threats, when Bolin had been left sniffling and crying and felt more alone than he’d ever felt before) he learned that he couldn’t count on anyone but himself. 

And like all the other big lessons in life, he learned it slowly, because for a little while, he tried to count on Toza, but what could he really count on Toza for? He showed him the ropes with pro-bending, and he was around, and he kinda-sorta looked out for Bolin, but the old man couldn’t do much else. 

And Bolin had tried to still count on his brother, by reaching out and sending letters and maybe a couple of times sneaking out of the arena and into the Dragon Flats and looking for him. (Bolin never could find him, just some of the other street kids they’d known growing up. Like Skoochy. Bolin had always liked Skoochy.) But, no. There was no counting on his brother anymore.

So after a while, he stopped counting on people. When their firebender had quit the pro bending team (How fitting that the firebender left him!) he couldn’t find it in him to really get indignant, because that’s just what people do, right? They leave you behind, even when you really need them.

Bolin had been really lucky the day he ran into Korra and that she agreed to be on his team and fill in for the fire bending role. For a while, he and Hasook and Korra had been an unstoppable pro bending force! Equalist attack aside, they had that championship in the bag, even against the cheating Wolf-Bats.

But he can't count on Korra anymore either. Not that he wants to count on her for Avatar-y things! No, of course not! She had been really badly hurt. But she hadn't written to him, not once. It shouldn’t hurt so much, because he’s used to it. But it hurts all the same.

Learning not to trust people had been a tough one. Tough because he had known not to trust bad people for a long time—shady characters, like Shady Shin (Shin, who dragged his brother into triad work with promises of safety and steady money. Promises that of course, ended up being lies.) But it was much harder not to trust people he liked, people he cared about, even. He had to have that one hammered in his head on too many occasions. (Hiroshi Sato. Varrick. Kai.)

But look, he’s still pretty young, okay? So he’s proud of himself that he figured out all these lessons by the time he reached adulthood. Don't be too good, kind, or honest. Don't count on anyone. Don't trust anyone.

People always let him down. That’s just how it is. His brother ditched him. Asami didn’t need him working for her. Korra never answered his letters.

Even Opal had let him down, when she shoved him away when they’d crossed paths in Yi. And look, it’s not like she’s wrong, Bolin had known Kuvira was harsh and tough and laid out ultimatums and forced people to bend to her will. But Opal never met the late Earth Queen. Compared to her, Kuvira seemed like a saint! 

And at least Kuvira had been doing something.  

There are lots of other little things he learned more quickly—how to endear himself to important people to minimize the risks that they’d hurt him, how to put on a good show to get the things he wanted and needed, how to lavabend (that one had caught him by surprise!), how to stay fun and positive and upbeat so he would never fall into a miserable pit of despair and people would want to keep him around for fun…

Unfortunately, Bolin had learned a lot of lessons over the course of his life, but the one that kept eluding him was how to stop caring.

No matter how hard he tries, he can’t stop getting attached to people. He can’t count on them, he can’t trust them, but he also can’t stop loving them and worrying about them and wanting to help them and make them happy—

He cares about Opal. Maybe even loves her! And that will just make it hurt worse when she eventually leaves him for good.

And he cares about people just like, in general. He doesn’t want people in the Earth Kingdom starving! He doesn’t want bandits terrorizing the rural towns. He doesn’t want riots threatening the lives of the people in the cities! He doesn’t want anyone dealing with war and famine and dirty drinking water and isolation and homelessness and—

Bolin doesn’t want anyone to suffer.

And hey, things had been bad in Ba Sing Se after the Queen had been assassinated! Bolin saw that for himself. And Kuvira wanted to fix it. So yes, Bolin joined the army when she asked Bolin if he’d help her. Lots of that involved posing for photos that got put on posters to encourage people to join the army and reunite the kingdom, but it also involved acting as a liaison between Kuvira and the leaders of the states she was ‘helping’.

And Bolin knew Kuvira wasn’t perfect. But she’s tough and serious and brought real help and resources to the states they’d brought under her command. Bolin knew she engaged in posturing and threats and cutthroat politics to get that done. He knew she was harsh.

But how was he supposed to know just how crazy she actually was!? He’s not naive, but he’s also not clairvoyant! How was Bolin supposed to know she was going to send dissenters to forced labor prison camps (oh, sorry “re-education camps”, since the inmates are learning new trade skills in service of their glorious nation or however Kuvira had phrased it. Bolin can’t remember the exact verbiage.) And how was he supposed to know she’d decide to invade Zaofu!? It’s her home! It’s Baatar Jr.’s home! Why would they want to attack it with an army?!

So yes, he might have done something stupid and tried to stop Kuvira when they arrived at Zaofu. He cares about the people in Zaofu too much. Suyin especially. She may have never been able to teach him metal bending, but her kindness and patience had reminded him so much of Mom that he couldn’t stop himself from getting attached to her and her whole big family! It’s stupid, he knows. But he doesn’t have a family—Mom and Dad are gone, he doesn’t have his brother in his life anymore, and who knows about extended family! He wouldn’t even know how to begin looking for his parents' families! 

Can anyone really blame him for latching onto a family that seemed to welcome him with open arms? 

Bolin can ruminate on his mistakes all day and all night, but it’s going to get him nowhere. Yes, he told Kuvira he wouldn’t be her mouthpiece to try and manipulate Suyin into giving up Zaofu (like he could manage that anyway). And yes, when Kuvira pushed back, he might have threatened to stop her. And yes, he might have tried to make a break for it, defect from her army and somehow get to Zaofu to help defend it. 

And he might have been wildly unsuccessful and landed himself in a prison camp. Labor camp. Re-education camp. Whatever. It’s a prison. Except worse. He’s been in prison before. Or was it a jail? He can’t remember the difference. But he’d been locked up, when he and Asami got arrested for mouthing off to Taarlok’s Equalist Task Force. And being locked up then had been boring, but that was the worst of it. He’d chit-chatted with the officers outside his cell, he’d been able to listen to the radio and read to pass the time. The food was better than how he used to eat when he was homeless. Not a bad deal, all things considered!

The camp is different.

He had tried to escape every step of the way—he is a lavabender, after all! He shouldn’t have so much trouble with overpowering a few guards! But the guards figured out quickly (probably after a panicked radio call to Kuvira when Bolin tried to melt the earth under the train tracks as he was forced toward the train car bound for the camp) that the easiest way to get Bolin to comply was to threaten someone else if he didn’t behave. And there had been too many other prisoners on the train leading them to the factory camp in the rocky plains not far from Zaofu—too many people that the guards were willing to hurt if Bolin didn’t do as he was told..

Bolin can’t stand the idea of being the reason someone got hurt.

Any attempts he had made to escape or resist had been met with swift, harsh punishments. Not just to him, but to the others in his assigned barracks. The man who runs the camp—Commander Guan, one of Kuvira’s loyal devotees who is utterly committed to her rule-with-an-iron-fist attitude—has taken a special interest in personally tormenting the other prisoners when Bolin steps out of line. 

After the third time Bolin tried to struggle against a guard, Guan grabbed a random prisoner from the factory—a waterbender named Ahnah—and almost strangled her to death with a metal cuff. Bolin had kowtowed and groveled almost immediately, and he couldn't even bring himself to feel humiliated by it. He’s always been good at groveling.

He still sees the woman around the camp from time to time. It took a long time for her bruises to fade. She must hate him.

Escape seems impossible. The close quarters means he can’t do anything during sleeping hours without risking killing his fellow inmates. Mealtimes are closely monitored for any talk of dissent. 

Bolin’s an earthbender, but not a metal bender (and yes, he’s still self conscious about the fact that he could never figure out how to metal bend, even with Suyin’s help. Sure, he can lavabend, but there’s not much one can do with lava that doesn’t result in, oh, melting someone.) and as an earth-but-not-metal-bender, he has to work in the mines. Yay. And the thing about working in a mine is that it’s underground, and if he tries to lavabend underground that’s not going to go well for anyone.

So, yeah. Escape is out of the question. 

It’s disorienting, being underground, in the dark. There are small lights lining the mine walls, but they’re dim and unreliable. They’re fueled by the power plant where they put the lightning benders to work to power the factory. Bolin knows something bad has happened when the lights flicker, dim, or go out entirely. It means one of the benders either collapsed or was punished for some transgression. It gives Bolin a sick feeling in his gut, because every part of him screams to go help. But all he can do is wait for the lights to go back on so he can continue the brute-force process of excavation with the other earthbenders. 

Bolin doesn’t get to see the sun all that much. They head down to work before dawn, their meals are taken in the mine, and it’s always well past sunset by the time they emerge. Yeah, sure, the original earthbenders were badgermoles and they’re blind so never see the sun, but Bolin’s not a badgermole! He’s a person, no matter how the camp seems to sap him of all his humanity with each day of labor.

He and the other earthbenders are always cuffed to limit their movements, and advanced bending techniques are not allowed. ( No advanced bending? It’s kind of an arbitrary rule, right? No one actually explained what that meant, but they certainly were quick to punish anyone for anything they deemed ‘advanced’!) Bolin learned pretty quickly that basically means don’t do anything that’s even a little bit cool. And it’s in Bolin’s nature to add a little flair to his bending, so it’s super unfair! Obviously not the most unfair thing about the whole situation. But since it’s how he spends literally ninety-percent of his waking hours, it feels extra oppressive.

All in all, Bolin’s best bet for getting through this is to keep his head down and not cause trouble. He had briefly tried endearing the guards to him—usually a technique that’s served him well—but the more friendly he tried to be, the worse things got. Because the guards didn’t want him making nice with them, and it made his fellow prisoners hate him. That part has been awful, because Bolin hates it when people hate him.

Day after day, for weeks, he trudges through the daily schedule imposed by the camp, tries hard to follow the rules, and tries very hard not to rail against the monumental unfairness that is his life and the lives of the other prisoners here. Things had always been rocky in the luck department for Bolin, but it had been generally on an upward trajectory since meeting Korra. But landing in a re-education slash prison slash forced labor camp had been straight up bad luck.

Bolin’s body is sore from exhaustion, his mind is sort of clouded from too little sleep, and he’s faltering a bit from too little food. But it could be worse, right? He’s struggling to think of how it could be worse, but he’s pretty certain someone in the world has it worse than he does. 

Actually, no, that’s not a pleasant thought either. He doesn’t want to think of some other person suffering too…

Bolin bends rubble and rocks, extending the mine tunnel carefully in conjunction with the other prisoners. It’s slow work, because they have to break up what they bend and sort it out for anything that might be slightly useful to the empire. Any minerals have to be loaded into carts for the nonbenders to haul away every so often, where it’s taken up to be smelted and used for machinery parts—all to power weapons of war. Mechs and the like. 

What does the army need so many mechs for, anyway?

Another earthbender, a young woman with dark green eyes and freckled skin, falters in her technique. It happens. It’s not like they’re at their tip-top best of shape here! But Bolin can feel her mistake before he can see it. She destabilized a lode running overhead. Bolin can feel that it’s going to collapse on her, and the way she wavers, he’s pretty sure she won’t have the reflexes to stop it.

He acts instinctively, digging into the earth and forcing it back into place so it doesn’t completely fracture and kill her.

She knows what he’s done. They share a moment of fearful eye contact, because helping each other out is not allowed. Bolin tears his eyes away from hers and goes back to his own work, holding his breath and hoping to all the spiritual powers in the world that the guards didn’t notice.

And for the time being, it seems they don't notice. No shouting, no beatings, no dragging the other prisoner away never to be seen again. Spirits, Bolin’s had a lot of bad luck in his life, but he gets a share of good luck now and then too!

When he trudges out to the mines later that night and sees the moon shining overhead, he kind of feels… at peace. Just for a moment. At least he gets to see the sky sometimes. 

He collapses into his bunk after a pitiful meal of bland soup with who-knows-what-kind-of-vegetables. (He’s pretty sure it’s cabbage? And some kinds of beans and roots. Actually not as bad as some of the things he ate from the dumpsters when he was a kid, so that’s a plus!) His bunkmate is already splayed out on the next bunk over, tall and lanky limbs stretched out so his feet stick out of the edge of the rickety unpadded wood they call a bed.

The barracks are usually maddeningly silent, and in a different scenario, Bolin would make it his life’s mission to get everyone talking. But too much talking gets everyone in trouble, and most people are too tired to talk about their days. Baraz, though, even though he’s been here longer than Bolin, just has a little fire in him that the guards haven’t been able to snuff out yet.

“Have fun in the mines today?” Baraz asks sarcastically. He's got his arms folded behind his head, his hair sticking in every which direction.

“Oh yeah, so much fun,” Bolin replies, mirroring Baraz’s tone. He’s weary, but Bolin doesn’t turn down a chance to joke around with someone he dares to consider a friend. He’s pretty sure Baraz doesn’t think of him as a friend, but he doesn’t seem to hate Bolin as much as everyone else. Bolin’s history as a corporal and close confidant of Kuvira’s has not been super great for his reputation with the other prisoners. (Which, like, he can't blame them for, but the fact that he's here and clearly Kuvira hates him should count for something, right?) 

“When I get out of here,” Baraz says, “the first thing I’m gonna do is see that mover you were in.” (Bolin's pretty sure the only reason Baraz is half-interested in being friendly is because he thinks it’s cool that Bolin was in the movers.)

Bolin blinks and raises an eyebrow at Baraz casually mentioning getting out of here. (Bolin hates losing hope but he’s starting to think they’re never getting out of here.) 

“Riiiight,” Bolin says skeptically, letting never getting out of here slip to the back of his mind. “Not go see your loved ones, or throw a big party to celebrate your freedom, or take a shower? Right to the theater to see Nuktuk: Hero of the South!”

Baraz laughs lightly. “Maybe take a shower. But the mover can be the party. And I don’t have anyone out there.”

Bolin isn’t sure what to say to that. Everyone Bolin loves is out there. All his friends and… what’s left of his family… Baraz doesn’t have anyone? That either means that everyone Baraz loves is imprisoned, or that he just doesn’t have anyone. That’s sad. Baraz is a good guy. It seems wrong that he doesn’t have anyone on the outside missing him and wondering when they’ll see him again.

Of course, Bolin has people on the outside, but he has no idea if anyone knows he’s here. And he isn’t sure they miss him that much, if they even notice he's gone. Between Opal being angry, Korra not answering his letters, Asami being so buried in work she can't be bothered to talk to him, and his brother—

Well. Pabu probably misses Bolin, at least! Bolin certainly misses Pabu. He hopes Pabu is having a great time on Air Temple Island.

“You asleep or something?” Baraz asks, cutting through Bolin's thoughts.

“Not yet. Probably should be, though. Another fun day of mining tomorrow…” Bolin tries to inject some humor into his voice but it falls flat.

Baraz rolls over and faces Bolin across the short distance between their bunks. “And another fun day of welding for me.” He lets out a gruff half-laugh-half-groan and the gravelly sound of it plus his amber eyes and his black hair spiking up and the warmth radiating off of him send Bolin into an intense wave of longing for his brother.

Bolin figures that’s why he gravitates toward Baraz so easily. He’s familiar. And everytime Bolin catches himself thinking about how familiar he is, he pushes that thought far, far back into his mind.

He rolls over and closes his eyes, hoping his weary, underfed, sleep-deprived body wins the battle with his racing mind so he can just go to sleep.

The next day is exactly like the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that and—well. Yeah. it’s all been pretty much the same back-breaking work for weeks.

Only there’s a slight difference, as the woman he helped yesterday whispers a nearly silent thank you to him when they happen to pass each other during their work. Since they weren’t caught yesterday, she must be feeling kind of bold, since they’re not really supposed to talk to each other.

And then there’s a big difference, when Commander Guan trudges into the mines with his head held high and his sharp eyes taking in every detail. He’s got a puckered frown under his facial hair, as if he finds the whole scene distasteful. (What on earth does he expect, though? Guan runs this whole operation, if he finds it so horrible maybe he should, oh, improve the conditions of the camp?) Two guards flank either side of him, walking almost in step with him, but hanging back slightly.

There’s a variety of reactions to Commander Guan’s intrusion, but most everyone shrinks back in fear. Bolin feels his heart trying to hammer his way out of his chest as he wonders if somehow it got back to Guan that Bolin broke the rules. He’s here to punish Bolin, probably—or rather, punish someone else and force Bolin to watch.

“What are you all doing?” Commander Guan says to all the dumbfounded prisoners angrily, “Stand at attention!” 

He hones in on Bolin and doesn’t even explain himself when he uses his metal bending to tighten the slack in the chain between Bolin’s metal cuffs that limit his bending. The two guards march over and grab Bolin roughly by his arms and yank, forcing him to follow Guan. Bolin doesn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone, because they throw a metal gag over his mouth too. 

They force Bolin to march out of the mines, and the daylight is almost painful since Bolin spends so much time underground and out of the sun.

Once Bolin’s eyes adjust to the sunlight, he sees something else that makes today different: an airship.

Guan shoves him through the door of the airship and Bolin’s not sure what he was expecting, but he’s a little surprised to see Kuvira. She’s standing at the window with her hands behind her back, looking out upon the camp. Also surprising, in the back of the room stands Zhu Li—with no Varrick in sight. That’s really weird. Zhu Li and Varrick are inseparable. Like, abnormally so. She went to prison with him! Why are they apart? It’s kind of unnatural.

“Bolin,” Kuvira says, greeting him calmly and professionally like she hadn’t sent him to be tortured and forced to work against his will. She holds her hand up without looking at him and gives it a sharp wave, metalbending the gag off of Bolin’s face, making it clatter to the floor.

“Uh, hi there. General Kuvira,” he greets her back, intentionally using her title and trying to sound genuinely reverential and not sarcastic, because he’s had a lot of time to think about what he’d do if he crossed paths with her again. Bolin’s not really the vengeance type, generally speaking. He just wants to survive. So he’ll do what he does best. Endear himself to her again. That's how Bolin has always managed to make it in this world: by doing whatever it takes to make powerful people like him or pity him or what-have-you.

“You seem much more amenable than the last time we spoke,” Kuvira points out.

“Oh, yeah! Well. I just really think I learned my lesson, you know?” He speaks as brightly as he can manage, hoping his simmering indignation stays hidden deep inside.

“Of course,” Kuvira agrees, and Bolin breathes a sigh of relief. “That lesson being to say whatever you think I want to hear so I'll show mercy on you and release you from your sentence?” she adds, and Bolin gets a chill.

Sentence. Doesn't ‘sentence’ imply he was charged with a crime? And found guilty? And that there's a timeframe for how long he would have to stay imprisoned? Bolin figures that's besides the point, but he wasn't exactly given due process or a fair trial. He was just shackled and shipped away.

“You know what? Yeah. You're right. You're always right. I'm telling you what you want to hear.” Bolin goes for just a smidge of honesty. It makes the lies more believable. “But honestly, I don't see the point in fighting back against you anymore! I mean, you already took Zaofu, right? So what's done is done.”

“Glad we can agree on something,” she says calmly. “So if I had a job for you, do you think you could actually listen and follow directions?”

“Uh, I mean, probably. I don't know what you want me to do, so I don't know if I can follow instructions, like what if your instructions are unclear? Or what if I'm physically incapable of following them? Like, if you ordered me to metal bend, I couldn't do it. For example.”

Kuvira narrows her eyes in displeasure. He's going too far with his joking, with trying to lighten the mood. She never really liked his sense of humor, he guesses. He has to bring it back a little, or she’ll just throw him back in the camp. Or worse. 

“As long as I can follow your directions, I will,” he concedes.

“I have a uniform for you,” she says, graciously overlooking his rambling. “We’re going back to Republic City. You have always been the face of our recruitment, and for good reason. You always had a way with crowds. You’ll garner support from the public for the next phase of my plan.”

“Which is…?”

“A declaration of a new nation. The Earth Empire. A nation no longer subjugated by the whims of its spoiled, out of touch monarchs. A nation governed by someone qualified to lead it into the modern era. Me.”

Kuvira’s planning a coup? Well that’s not so surprising. Bolin doesn't know that much about the Earth Prince. He’s heard that the prince is different from the late Earth Queen, but not necessarily in a good way. 

What's funny is, if Kuvira had proposed this to Bolin before— before invading Zaofu and sending Bolin to a prison camp—he might have been all in and on board. Kuvira had done a lot of good. A lot more than the Earth Queen. A lot more than some rich boy living in a hotel in Republic City.

Not that Bolin's opinions even matter to Kuvira. He’s just saying, she wouldn't have had to coerce him and threaten him.

“Okay…” Bolin furrows his brows thoughtfully. “You want me to… what? Make a speech?”

“Of course not, I wouldn’t trust you with a microphone yet. You haven’t spent nearly enough time in the re-education camp for that.” Kuvira finally turns to look Bolin in the eye. “I intend to have you behind me when I make my announcement to the press and to the world. You’ll present a united front with Baatar and me. Your support of the new Empire will shift public opinion in favor of my rule.”

“Okay…” Bolin’s breath catches a little. “So… I’m leaving the camp?” Hope blossoms in his chest for the first time in a while.

“Yes. For now. Prove to me I don’t need to send you back.”

“Yes Ma’am!” Bolin says, raising his hands to his head in a salute. It’s kind of awkward, since his hands are still cuffed together, but she seems satisfied with his show of loyalty.

“Shower, shave and dress.” Kuvira gestures toward the uniform draped over the back of a nearby chair and then to the back of the airship, where the facilities are. “We’ll be arriving at the train station in Gaoling, and then we’ll head straight to Republic City.” 

She flicks her hand, and his cuffs open and clatter to the ground.

“Zhu Li and I have business to attend to in the camp. There are guards posted everywhere on this ship. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Bolin nods quickly as Zhu Li obediently follows Kuvira out of the airship. He looks out the window, over the camp. He’s suddenly wrought with a horrible awful feeling of shame and guilt. Everyone in the camps… How can he just leave them behind?

An unwelcome voice drifts through his mind, harsh and sharp.

“Life is hard. You either hustle or get hustled.”

Another lesson Bolin has learned slowly. 

Bolin hangs his head in shame and picks up the uniform.

The conditions on the train are slightly better than the prison camp. Though, it’s still pretty prison-y. He’s behind bars. The food’s better, though, and he gets a lot more. Kuvira probably doesn’t want him looking gaunt and starved when he arrives in Republic City. Wouldn’t want it to be obvious he’d been coerced into supporting her overthrowing an entire nation, right?

“Cookie ... jar ... empty.” Varrick mutters next to Bolin. He’s curled up in a ball, sleeping on the metal floor. At least at the camp they’d had bunks. “No ... hot ... towels! Waxy ... buildup!” Varrick suddenly startles awake. “Zhu Li!”

“Zhu Li’s not here, remember?” Bolin tells Varrick. “She left you to work for Kuvira and build weapons out of the spirit vines?”

“Right…” Varrick slumps his shoulders in sorrow. “She really is gone… She and I had a bond! How could she do this to me?” Varrick starts openly weeping.

“Maybe we should be a little more concerned that she left to build spirit vine weapons,” Bolin says, lowering his voice. “I mean, what’s Kuvira going to do with a death ray?”

“Zhu Li…” Varrick moans, ignoring Bolin’s question. “How can I go on without her?”

Bolin rolls his eyes, growing increasingly annoyed with Varrick. It was really only a matter of time. It’s not like Varrick treated Zhu Li especially well. If Bolin’s being honest, he’s not sure why Zhu Li stuck around Varrick as long as she did. What did she see in him?

Although… It’s kind of weird for him to admit, but Bolin had always kind of been… envious. Zhu Li really had always seemed completely devoted to Varrick. She really put up with a lot! Varrick is wild, unpredictable, demanding and pretty rude—yet she didn’t leave him.

It almost made Bolin think that maybe sometimes people did stick around. If someone as crazy and annoying as Varrick could get someone to stay by his side through thick and thin, maybe Bolin could have that someday. 

But, as people are wont to do, Zhu Li abandoned Varrick. Just like Opal pushed Bolin away and ended things between them. Just like Korra and Asami forgot him, or worse, remembered him but couldn’t be bothered to try and contact him.

Just like his brother, who walked away and never let Bolin see him again.

People don’t stick around. That’s just how things are.

“What happened in Zaofu?” Bolin asks quietly. It’s probably pointless to know, but his insides are all twisted up, thinking about the city having been conquered by an army.

“Oh, it was really pleasant! Kuvira and Su had tea, worked out mutually agreeable terms, shook hands, and everyone clapped!” Varrick says sarcastically, which is better than the self-pitying moaning from earlier. “What do you think happened? The army marched in, pointed every mech directly at the city, and Kuvira demanded Suyin give up right away!”

“And… did she?” Bolin asks meekly.

“Of course not!” Varrick says, throwing his hands in the air. “She tried to sneak and take Kuvira out, but she got caught and got dragged off to Ravaa-knows-where!”

“Do you think… She’s dead?” Bolin asks, sorrow filling his heart at the thought.

“Hard to say, kid…” Varrick sighs, leaning against the wall. “But I wouldn’t bet against Su.”

Varrick’s words actually give Bolin some tentative hope. Of course, if Suyin, or Baatar, or Huan or Wing or Wei are alive, Bolin can’t imagine they’re faring much better than Bolin had been.

Bolin jumps in surprise as the door to the prison car opens. Kuvira steps through with Baatar and two guards.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Kuvira says professionally. “We’ll arrive at Republic City in a few days. Until then, I’ve decided to wring some productivity from you.”

“Well, I'm really only productive for about fifteen minutes a day, usually in the afternoon around three-forty-five,” Varrick says. He barely gets the words out before Kuvira uses her metalbending to lift him by his shoulder pauldrons and slam him roughly against the wall.

“You’ll begin work on the spirit vine weapon immediately. Bolin will assist, Baatar will supervise.”

“You can’t expect me to replace Zhu Li with him!” Varrick shouts indignantly as he points toward Bolin. 

“I do expect it. And you’ll walk Baatar through every step.”

“Fine, fine,” Varrick shrugs. “I thought you needed the kid for your propaganda campaign, but if you don’t care if his hands get blown off…”

“Wait, what?” Bolin blinks and tucks his hands under his arms. “I need my hands!”

“Stop your ridiculous posturing. Get to work, or I’ll send you to the re-education camp as well. You can ask Bolin all about it. I get the feeling you’re not cut out for the kind of work they do there.”

Varrick frowns, and glances toward Bolin warily. There’s something kind of… hopeless in Varrick’s eyes, apologetic, even. Bolin’s not sure what that’s about, but it makes him nervous. Varrick is the most energetic, creative person Bolin knows. His demeanor borders on manic most of the time. 

There’s something very unsettling about seeing him so defeated.

They’re led to the back of the train, to the last car, and they’re put to work. Yay. More forced labor. At least this isn't mind-numbing mining. No, it’s just working with unstable spirit vines that might blow up and kill or maim him. 

No big deal.

“Bolin, do the thing,” Varrick says without looking up. He’s crouched down in front of his machine, fiddling with something.

“Uh… What thing?” Bolin looks around at the vines. There’s so many of them. Kuvira had taken them all from the swamp near Gaoling. Bolin finds that endlessly upsetting. The vines are a part of something! They shouldn’t be sealed away in these glass containers, separated from the rest of the vines that weave through the swamp.

“The thing! I never had to tell Zhu Li what thing!” Varrick throws his hands in the air and walks over to pointedly retrieve a screwdriver from the table. He’s quite irritable at Bolin’s incompetence. But come on, Bolin’s not a mind reader! Wait, was that Zhu Li’s secret? Mind reading? Maybe she’s secretly some kind of energybender that can read people brainwaves, and that’s how she can anticipate Varrick’s commands so easily. 

Baatar ignores Varrick’s frustration and leans over the device. “Walk me through what you're doing. I want to know every detail of your work.”

“You know, when I started working with the vines,” Varrick says as he uses the screwdriver to unscrew a panel at the base of the machine, “the point was to find a clean, unlimited source of energy, not develop some spirit-y death ray.”

“Clean energy!” Bolin says enthusiastically. “Sounds great! Let's do that instead!”

“Quiet! You're here to help, not talk.” Baatar scowls at Bolin, then turns back to Varrick. “And you of all people, should realize that once a discovery is made, it is our responsibility as scientists to pursue it as far as we can, wherever it leads.”

Bolin is pretty sure that’s not a responsibility scientists should have.

“You'll never know how it feels to give birth to genius, only to have it kidnapped, and raised by fools!” Varrick laments as he throws his head back.

“Are you done with your rambling, or do the guards need to encourage you to continue your work?” The guards who have been supervising Bolin and Varrick start to converge onto them, and Varrick throws his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, fine.” Varrick removes the panel cover and starts fiddling with some wires. “The last time we ran the current through the vine, we couldn't control the power, so I'm trying something new to see if I can direct it.”

Bolin nervously does his best to assist, but he’s very concerned about possible explosions. 

“So I see how the current interacts with the vine, and here is a kind of directional tube, but that baffling here at the base—” Baatar Jr leans in over Varrick’s shoulder and examines the device. “It looks like that would only redirect the energy back where it came from. And what's that piece of equipment you're fiddling with now on the power source?”

Varrick seems to ignore Baatar, reaching his hand back blindly as he continues fiddling with some of the wiring. “Bolin, hand me the, uh… screw-turn-thingy, would ya?

“Uh, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Bolin asks nervously as he hands Varrick the screwdriver. Varrick’s methods of technological tinkering seem haphazard and directionless to Bolin’s untrained eyes. Zhu Li would know what to do, Bolin’s sure. Because of the energybending-mind-reading-powers or whatever makes her know what Varrick needs at any moment.

“Funny story, Bolin. I first got the idea for harnessing spirit power when I watched that giant Unalaq-monster attack the city from my jail cell. That giant monster set me free!” Varrick turns to Bolin and smiles with narrow eyes. Something about it makes Bolin shiver. “Trust me, kid, I know what I'm doing.”

Bolin feels an uncomfortable shiver travel up his spine.

“That ought to do it!” Varrick says after a few hours of work. He stands tall with his hands on his hips. “Huh…” Varricak rubs his chin, frowning in confusion, then knocks on the machine a couple of times with his knuckles. 

“What’s wrong?” Baatar asks, frowning in concern.

“Stand back!” Varrick announces loudly, throwing his hands out before kicking the machine. The kick seems to work as the machine roars to life. The spirit vines within it begin to glow, (there is no way that’s good, right? Spirit-y things do glow, sometimes, but these are vines from the swamp and the glow is definitely unnatural…)

Accompanying the glow is a sound. Beeping. Once per second, Bolin counts it out in his head, one-jasmine-island, two-jasmine-island, three-jasmine-island… Yep, it’s beeping in time by the second.

“What’s that sound?” Kuvira asks with a frown.

“That's the timer,” Varrick says, casually leaning his elbow against the machine.

“The timer for what?”

“For the bomb, of course!” Varrick says, throwing his hand in the air as if it were obvious.

“Bomb? What Bomb?” Bolin can’t stop himself from exclaiming as Baatar and Kuvira shoot a wary glance at one another.

“The bomb that's gonna explode in five minutes and destroy this entire train, all of the spirit vines, and everything else within a few hundred yards.” Varrick keeps his body against the machine, and Bolin feels a sick pit in his stomach.

“You know what,” Varrick continues, “I'd get out of here if I were you. This is the first time I've built a timer and it might run a little fast. I’m ready to go down with the ship, or train, in this case, but you seem like you all have a lot to live for.”

“You're bluffing,” Kuvira says, no worry showing on her face.

“Stick around five minutes and you'll find out who's bluffing,” Varrick frowns, then shouts upward toward the ceiling “You'll be sorry you left me, Zhu Li! When they write the history books, your name will be synonymous with betrayal! People will say, ‘Hey, what happened to that guy? Oh, didn't you hear? He 'Varricked' himself because some girl 'Zhu Li'd' him!’”

Oh no. Is Varrick serious? Is he so upset by Zhu Li leaving him that he’s willing to kill himself?

“Enough!” Baatar shouts, looking considerably more upset than Kuvira, who is the picture of calmness, even as Bolin can detect a smidge of anxiety behind her steady eyes. “What makes you think we would let you blow yourself up? You don't get to quit.”

“Grab him,” Kuvira orders the guards behind them. They take a step forward, but before they can take a second step, Varrick pulls something out of his pocket.

“You try to pull me away from this thing and I'll hit this remote, and blow everyone up immediately!”

“Why do you have a timer and a remote?” Baatar asks.

“Well,” Varrick says thoughtfully, “first, I built the timer, but then I thought, you could drag me off the train, so then I built a remote, but then I thought, do I really need the timer, because now I got a remote in my —Whatever! I'm covering all my bases! The point is, you're leaving, I’m staying!”

This has to be an escape attempt, right?

Kuvira narrows her eyes, sharp and angry. “I can bend the detonator out of your hand, or bend the machine to stop it—”

“You can try!” Varrick says with a manic laugh. “Think you’ll be fast enough? I’ve got my finger on the button. And you wanna rip apart the machine, be my guest! You’ll probably just blow the whole thing immediately! These spirit vines are testy,  you know?”

“You're insane,” Baatar says. He and Kuvira share a glance and Bolin sees her steely demeanor slip into something fearful. 

“You knew that when you hired me!” Varrick says with a laugh.

Kuvira’s eyes quickly dart around the room, calculating the odds, deciding if it’s worth it to try and stop Varrick against the risk of the explosion.

“Guards,” Kuvira says, and Bolin flinches, worried that she’ll order them to seize Bolin and Varrick and that Varrick will follow through on his threat. “Leave the car.”

The guards step out, closely followed by Baatar. Kuvira then steps across the threshold, over the connectors holding the train cars together Bolin follows behind her, but hesitates before stepping over the connectors himself. 

“Bolin?” Kuvira addresses him in a calm tone.

Varrick is smart. This has to be an escape attempt, right?

Before Kuvira can react, Bolin impulsively yanks on the lever by the door that unhooks the cars. They pull apart and the main cars speed away, while the caboose where he and Varrick are coasts, lagging behind. Bolin hesitantly turns toward Varrick to see him smiling smugly. It was an escape attempt! Kuvira didn’t call his bluff, and now they’re free!

“Man, that was great! I gotta admit, you had me going there for a minute,” Bolin says with a wide smile. “I really thought you were gonna blow us up! Now, how do we turn this thing off?” 

“Oh, we can't turn it off,” Varrick says with a shrug. “We're gonna blow up. But we had a pretty good run, right?”

“What are you talking about? Is this seriously because Zhu Li left you?” Bolin groans and grabs his head in frustration. “You can’t just kill yourself because she’s gone! And you definitely can’t get me killed over it!”

“Hey! You could have stuck with Kuvira, groveled at her feet, been her good little lapdog like always. I didn’t force you to stick around with me!”

“I thought it was an escape!” Bolin groans. “I can’t believe you.” Bolin inhales sharply and looks around, desperate for a way to survive. He’s not going to die on this train!

Bolin spies something on the ground—a hatch? He frantically pushes away the cart blocking it and yanks—it opens, thank the spirits. The train tracks below rush by in a blur. The tracks are metal, but the ground underneath and around either side is good, solid earth, and Bolin is pretty sure he can bend his way to safety before the whole fucking train blows.

Varrick is paying Bolin no mind, simply staring off toward the back window.

“I'll see you on the other side, Zhu Li.” Varrick says dramatically. Bolin sighs. Sometimes he wishes he could just stop caring so much. Varrick doesn’t seem to care if he dies, why should Bolin?

But no, Bolin can’t just leave him. Varrick may deserve a lot of things, but death isn’t one of them. Bolin doesn’t think anyone deserves to die, no matter how horrible they are… And Varrick isn’t horrible, he’s just kind of selfish and clueless.

Bolin grabs Varrick by the collar and gives him a quick slap to snap him out of his trance. “Hey! Get a grip. Hold on!”

Bolin takes a deep breath, and throws himself to the mercy of the earth.

His timing is flawless, if he does say so himself. He bends a deep pit just to the side of the train tracks just as they drop out of the hatch. Bolin bends the top of the hole closed above them, and not a second too late. He doesn't so much hear the explosions as he feels it. It reverberates through the earth, sending shockwaves strong enough that it almost collapses the earth on him. But Bolin holds his ground, keeping the dirt steady around them through the blast. 

When all is still, Bolin puts his hands on the wall and feels the shape of the earth around him—he doesn’t have seismic sense the way Lin and Su do, but he can feel where the earth ends so he knows how far to bend to get himself free.

When they emerge from the dark tunnel Bolin bent around them, Varrick lets out a wild laugh. “Yes!” he says, grabbing Bolin by the shoulders. “You did it, Bolin, you did the thing!” He plants a grateful kiss on Bolin’s forehead and Bolin swats him away, not feeling particularly in the mood for Varricks gratitude or affection.

“Why are you happy?” Bolin asks, throwing his hands wildly in the air in exasperation. “You wanted to blow yourself up!”

“Because that was the only way out! But now we’re free! Come on, we’ve got a long trek to Republic City!” Varrick stands and does a few stretches as if he’s preparing for a marathon.

“I’m not going to Republic City,” Bolin says, dusting his uniform sleeves. “I’m going to Zaofu.”

“What?” Varrick shoutes in protest. “We have to go to Republic City! We have to warn them about the weapon!”

“Kuvira’s going to get there long before we can. This is my one chance to get to Zaofu and maybe rescue the Beifongs!”

“What? Are you crazy? Zaofu is crawling with soldiers! You’ll never get them out!”

“If Kuvira is in Republic City announcing her glorious Empire or whatever she’s calling it, that means she’s not in Zaofu. I might get another chance like this! I’m going. You can follow me or you can find your way back to Republic City on your own.”

To illustrate his point, Bolin starts trudging off in the opposite direction that the train had been taking them. Kuvira’s on the train toward Republic City, and Bolin’s going to follow the track backwards that leads all the way to Zaofu. He doesn’t look back, but he can feel Varrick hesitate before following frantically.

“You’re crazy, kid. I like that! Let’s go to Zaofu!”

Bolin sighs. Varrick’s only sticking with him because it’s safer. If they run into trouble, it can’t hurt to have a lavabender on his side, can it? Varrick is using Bolin, just like he’s always used Bolin. Just like everyone has always used Bolin.

That’s okay though. If he’s being used, it’s because he’s useful. As long as he’s useful, people will keep him around, and he’ll be safe. Well. Relatively safe. Alive, at the very least.

Bolin takes a deep breath. It’s a long way back to Zaofu, and it will take them days on foot. Which means they have to start moving now—away from Republic City and towards what is sure to be a difficult journey ahead.

“Something looks different,” Varrick says as they crouch, peering over the edge of a sharp hill that overlooks Zaofu. “I can’t put my finger on it…”

“Kuvira tore down all the domes!” Bolin practically shouts. Between Varrick having been a complete pain in the ass the whole way here and spending the last few weeks in a prison camp, Bolin’s patience is wearing thin. He takes a deep breath and adjusts his attitude. “She took down all the domes. How? Why?”

“They’re pure platinum…” Varrick says, chewing on his thumb. “There’s a lot of things Kuvira could be doing with that much platinum…”

“Mechs…” Bolin says with horror. “They were building mechs, back at the camp. She wants a whole army of pure platinum mechs so metal benders can’t stop them…” War machines. Kuvira is gearing up for something big. Why? She has the whole Kingdom under her control. Empire. Whatever she’s calling it. She has a hold over every state, every city, every region. She took Zaofu, what more does she want? Why does she need more military power?

“Alright, what’s your master plan, Bolin?” Varrik asks. “How are we getting Su out of there?”

“Uh. I don’t exactly have a plan, so to speak.” Bolin scratches his head in thought. “I just figured we’d… make it up as we go?” Bolin laughs nervously as he shrugs. 

“Well, I know the layout of the city pretty well,” Varrick says thoughtfully. “So I can think of a few places they might be holding Su and the whole Beifong crew, but it’s gonna be the jailbreak of the century to get in and out!” 

“Oh, oh, oh!” Bolin says excitedly as an idea strikes him. “We’ll get disguises! We’ve already got empire uniforms, if we get our hands on some helmets, sneak in, gather intel, do some recon—”

“Don’t move.” A voice rings out behind them, and Bolin slowly turns his head, feeling panic that they’ve been caught already. They haven’t even started yet! How can Kuvira’s soldiers have caught them already!?

He’s faced by sharp metal, aimed directly at his face. Great. Metal benders. Definitely Earth Army soldiers. 

“You stay right where you are, put your hands up and don’t even think about calling out to your buddies down in the city,” the voice says. It’s coming from the shadows of the forest thicket behind them, and now that Bolin is listening, he sort of feels like this voice doesn’t match a typical soldier’s voice. In fact, the voice sounds like… An old woman? Not that older women can’t serve in the army! No, just that the voice sounds much, much older than a typical soldier…

Hang on, their buddies down in the city? Oh, wait, Varrick and Bolin are wearing army uniforms! Whoever this person is, they think he and Varrick are with the army! And if they think they’re threatening earth army soldiers, they must be against Kuvira and her agenda! What’s that old saying, the enemy of my enemy is my friend? Bolin loves a chance to make new friends!

“We don’t have any buddies down in the city!” Bolin says excitedly. “We aren’t with the Earth Army, I swear!”

“Hmph, I could have sworn…” The source of the voice steps out from the shadows of the trees, and Bolin almost faints. 

An old woman. Her pupils are fixed and hazy, she’s barefoot, and her facial structure looks very similar to some other women he knows well. Namely, the Beifong women. There’s no way, is it possible…?

“You’re wearing army uniforms,” she says after tapping her foot to the ground briefly. Seismic sense! It has to be her! “You can’t fool me, just because I’m blind it doesn’t mean—”

“You’re Toph!” Bolin says excitedly, very nearly forgetting the sharp metal pointed at him. “Toph Beifong, you’re like, my hero!”

“Bolin…?” Another voice rings out from behind Toph. Bolin would recognize that beautiful, melodic voice anywhere—

“Opal!” Bolin throws his arms out excitedly as he sees her emerge from behind a tree. 

Bolin feels a ridiculous rush of relief, because things have been pretty fucking awful for several weeks, and seeing Opal’s beautiful face makes Bolin’s heart feel like it could burst with joy. Obviously they aren’t together anymore, she was so angry with him for not helping in Yi, for not abandoning the army and not working with her and Kai to help the town without the conditions of Kuvira's agreement. But spirits, is it good to see her again! Especially because he had started to think he’d die in the camp—

No, he doesn’t want to think about the camp anymore.

Opal’s closely followed by Lin, and neither of them are happy to see him, Bolin realizes as his joy falls flat. Bolin’s being stared down by three angry Beifong women, and sharp metal is still pointed directly at him, and Opal isn’t taking another step toward him, and Beifong isn’t even chastising him for being obnoxious or blabbering or whatever.

“What are you doing here?” Opal asks with her arms crossed. 

“You know these guys?” Toph asks.

“Yeah,” Opal says, her scowl growing deeper. “They’re part of Kuvira’s inner circle—”

“No, no, no!” Bolin says, waving his hands frantically. “No, we defected! We’re here to get your family out!”

“Really,” Lin says skeptically.

“The kid’s right! We made a daring escape a few days ago, through the hatch of a moving train, just before it exploded!” Varrick says excitedly. “I thought we should head straight to Republic City, but mister hero here refused! Said this was the only chance we’d have to get your family out!”

“Right, I’m supposed to believe you,” Lin says to Varrick with a roll of her eyes. “You’re a criminal, you might have been pardoned of your crimes, I’m not stupid enough to think you actually—”

“They’re telling the truth,” Toph interrupts Lin, calling the metal back. That’s right, Toph practically invented truth seeing!

“Yes, yes, I swear!” Bolin says, taking a step forward. “I just want to help get them out!”

Opal’s face softens, thank goodness, and Bolin wants to run over and sweep her up in a big hug, but she’s still angry with him. He can’t blame her, of course, their fight in Yi was pretty bad, but it hurts all the same.

“I’ve already scouted the whole area,” Toph says with crossed arms. “They’re saying they moved all the prisoners a couple of days ago, though I haven’t figured out where yet. All I’m hearing is that they were taken away to some nearby prison camp, but no location yet.”

Bolins heart pounds. Nearby prison camp? Damnit. They must have moved them to the camp where Bolin had been imprisoned. 

Shit. Maybe that was the real reason Kuvira ‘freed’ him. She needed to send Su and her family to the prison camp, and she probably knew if the Beifongs arrived when Bolin was still there, that he’d stop at nothing to get them all free.

“And where would that be?” Opal asks Bolin with narrowed eyes and a bitter voice.

Bolin swallows a lump in his throat as he realises what this means. He has to go back.  

“There’s a re-education camp and factory not far from her, toward the desert,” Bolin says, averting his eyes and doing his best to keep his voice steady. “I can show you the way.”

“Fine,” Opal says, her voice still filled with fresh anger. “I guess it’s the least you can do.”

“Let’s get back to Korra and the bison,” Lin says, turning on her heel.

“Wait, what?” Bolin asks, shocked. “Korra’s with you?”

“Yeah, found her wandering in my swamp,” Toph says with a shrug. “We had to make a break for it when Kuvira started harvesting the vines where I live. No clue what for, though.”

“Kuvira’s using the vines to build weapons,” Varrick explains with a shudder. “She forced me to work on it, but Bolin and I sabotaged the experiments! You’re welcome!”

“Huh,” Toph says as she puts her hands behind her back. “Maybe you two aren’t complete dipsticks, then.”

Opal turns on her heel wordlessly and stomps through the forest. (kind of heavy footed for an airbender, isn’t she?) Toph follows, but Lin stays put and crosses her arms and glares at Bolin and Varrick with narrow eyes. Bolin tries not to feel too small under her judgemental gaze and follows Toph and Opal, Varrick trudging along. Lin is kind of guarding them, Boli’s pretty sure, as she follows and Bolin can practically feel her anger and distrust and it also kind of feels like the guards at the camp threatening everyone from behind as they’d march into the mines and punish anyone who started falling behind or collapsed from exhaustion—

Bolin takes in a sharp inhale. Lin’s an old friend. Sort of. Not a prison guard. If Bolin collapsed right this second she’d help him, not hurt him. No matter how mad she might be. Bolin takes a few more breaths to calm his racing heart.

They walk through a thicket of trees until they come to a clearing, where two huge Bison lazily relax… And sitting right there between them is Korra.

Bolin could cry. Actually, he is. He can feel the tears starting up. It’s really Korra! Three years of nothing, no letters or updates from her family or visits, and suddenly she’s right there! Only… She looks different. She’s wearing muted green clothes instead of her traditional water tribe garb. And her hair is short—jaggedly cutting across her jawline instead of pulled up and back in her usual ponytails. And she looks… Tired. There’s dark circles under her eyes, and a certain slouch to her posture. She looks… wrong.  

“Look who we found,” Lin says disinterestedly as Korra looks up. Korra’s tired face grows joyful as she locks eyes with Bolin.

“Bolin!” Korra stands up quickly, and Bolin can’t stop himself. He runs past the Opal and Toph and wraps his arms around Korra in a big hug. She looks different, but she feels the same. Solid and strong. Spirits. It feels good to hug her.

Sure, she may not have spoken to him in three years, but Bolin has missed her. She’s the closest thing to a best friend he’s ever had! 

“Korra, I’m so glad to see you!” Bolin says, pulling back and gripping her by the shoulders. “I can’t believe you’re here! What’s this about you wandering around the swamp?”

“It’s a long story,” Korra says with a huff of a laugh.

“Okay, reunion time is over,” Lin says forcefully. “We’ve got a rescue mission, remember?”

“Right, right.” Bolin lets go of Korra and brushes his uniform off. Lin fills Korra in on the details, and Korra’s tired face turns sharp and determined.

“If we’re taking the bison, we’ll get there quick,” Bolin says thoughtfully. “Probably take us less than a day! We’ll still have to go around the mountains, but that should only add a couple of hours—”

“We’re losing daylight,” Opal says, looking up at the sky. She’s right, the sun is low, almost behind the mountains now. “Maybe we should camp and head out at dawn, instead of pushing through the night?”

“Great idea!” Varrick says excitedly. “Did you guys bring any food? I’m starving. We’ve been living off the land for days and—”

“Does this guy ever shut up?” Toph says, stomping her foot into the ground and bending a table-like platform and seat for herself before she sits down and props her feet up. 

“No,” Lin says. “Neither of them do. One’s a mad scientist, the other’s an actor. Prepare to have your ears talked off.”

“Yes, we brought food,” Opal says, ignoring her grandmother and aunt’s grumblings. “And camping gear. I’m going to set up dinner.” She walks past Bolin without making eye contact, bending herself up onto Juicy in an elegant twist that leaves Bolin’s heart twisting too. Spirits, he misses how things used to be with her.

Before he can sink into a pit of despair over what he lost—Opal’s beautiful smile, the way she used to blush when he’d tell her how pretty her smile is, the way she’d tell him if he was being weird because she actually liked him and wanted him to be himself instead of putting on a show, the comfort of her touch, the warmth of her embrace, the—Well, dammit. Now he’s sinking into that pesky pit of despair. He’s got to stop thinking about bad stuff!

“I’ll get some firewood!” Bolin announces, deciding to get away from all the Beifongs since they don’t particularly like him at the moment.

“I’ll come with you,” Korra says, and her voice is rich and resonant as always, but Bolin can’t shake the feeling that there’s just some kind of bone deep exhaustion radiating from her. What’s that about, anyway?

They gather the firewood in silence, which Bolin find’s exceedingly awkward, because he doesn’t know what to say to her, and everytime he opens his mouth, she turns her back and walks further away to grab a stick off in the distance, and it’s super weird because this is Korra! His best friend! Former best friend. Maybe the title doesn’t apply after no contact for three years.

Bolin hangs his head and hopes that he hasn’t lost all his friendships forever.

The sun is long gone, and the moon above is barely a sliver, but the stars shine bright, so bright, which is both familiar and unfamiliar to Bolin. Back in Republic City, it’s hard to see many stars. The lights from the buildings and haze from the smokestacks of the factories make it so only the brightest stars can shine through. His whole life until he was seventeen years old, stars just weren’t really a thing he looked at.

But the first time he left the city, when he went to the South Pole, he had been stunned at the night sky. Bolin had always thought the night sky was black, but out there, it was a beautiful glowing array of glittering dots. He’d heard about constellations before, but that had been the first time he could pinpoint some of them!

Now, the night sky isn’t quite as bright, but it’s clearer than the city, still. Something about it feels good—knowing that the stars shine on in spite of everything horrible that’s happening right now—but at the same time it feels sort of cold and strange. His whole life had been spent in the city, for better or for worse, and the stretch of light overhead kind of makes him miss home.

Varrick snoozes in a nearby tent, apparently exhausted from the journey, (Even though Bolin literally carried him for some stretches of the trip!) and his snores are punctuated with his nonsensical sleep-talking. At least he’s not weeping over Zhu Li. For now. Korra ate quickly and left to go meditate, which is weird because Korra hates meditating.

“Soooo, how did you all find each other?” Bolin askes between bites of his instant noodles. They all sit around a hunk of earth bent up to form a table. Bolin relishes the taste of the food, flavorful and familiar.

“Grandma and Korra came to Zaofu from the swamp,” Opal answers without looking up from her own cup. “Grandma can feel Zaofu through the vines and she could tell something was wrong.”

“Had to take the long way!” Toph says with an annoyed voice and a dismissive gesture. “Soldiers everywhere. Took us much longer than it should have!”

“As soon as we heard Kuvira had left Zaofu and was headed to Republic City, Aunt Lin and I took Juicy and Oogie to get everyone out while she’s away. But we’ve had to be careful. There are airship patrols all along the borders.” Opal doesn’t look toward Bolin. “We didn’t know anyone else was trying to get them out. It was totally a coincidence that we ran into each other outside the city.” 

“And then you ran into us!” Bolin adds brightly. “It’s really lucky that we all ran into each other!”

“I’m going to set up a tent.” Opal abruptly stands and leaves, clearly still unhappy with Bolin and unwilling to tolerate his presence. Bolin aches to go after her. But why would he do that? She’s made it clear how she feels. Bolin’s already lost her. No sense in trying to get her back.

Lin isn’t looking her mother in the eye. Between Opal avoiding Bolin and Lin and Toph’s terse silence, Bolin can’t take it anymore. Silence has always driven him crazy. And back in the camp, if there was too much chatter, the guards would burst in and punish everyone and— Nope! Bolin will not be thinking about that, actually. Instead, he’ll enjoy the fact that he is currently free to speak, even if he’s annoying everyone.

“So how long has it been since you two have seen each other?” Bolin blurts out, hoping to quell the silence with something, anything.

“Little while now. Couple of years,” Toph says, then she slurps up some noodles.

“Try twenty,” Lin says to her mother with a scowl.

“Well, time flies when you get to be my age.” Toph simply shrugs as if that’s that. “I'm honestly surprised you came to help Su. I thought you guys didn't get along.”

“Su and I finally worked things out,” Lin says, setting down her empty cup and crossing her arms.

“Glad we’re all finally past that family drama nonsense,” Toph says.

“Right. We.” Lin frowns at her mother.

The awkward silence falls over them again. Bolin thought he had family drama. Su and Lin hadn’t spoken for thirty years before they saw each other again and ultimately reconciled. Bolin wonders if he’ll see his brother in the next thirty years… He doubts it.

Bolin can’t stand the quiet anymore. It’s giving his brain too much room to think.

“So, Toph, can I ask you about metalbending?” Bolin asks. “Su tried to teach me, but I couldn't get the hang of it.”

“Even a blockhead like you can learn the basics, with the right instruction. But I’m not surprised Su couldn’t teach you. Neither of my girls never really picked up metalbending all that well, if you ask me—” Toph cuts herself off, then huffs in Lin’s direction. “Lin, I can feel your enraged breathing from here. Just say what you have to say and let's get it over with.”

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Lin says sharply. “Never really picked it up that well? I’m Chief of Police, despite you—”

“Oh, give it a rest, will ya?” Toph says, sighing in exasperation. “It’s always something with you.”

“Always something, right, just stupid little things, like how nothing I do is ever good enough, or the fact that I never knew my father, or—”

“Uh, I’m gonna go find Korra!” Bolin says brightly, standing up and walking away. He’s very eager to leave the confrontation behind. He probably shouldn’t have bothered talking to either of them. Lin is just as grumpy as ever, and somehow Toph is a grumpier version of Lin.

He wanders through the sparse trees where he saw Korra head, trying not to think about how creepy he finds the forest, generally speaking. He’s a city dweller! The only ‘meadow’ he’s familiar with is the Green Meadows where he was born. And that’s not actually a meadow. Also not very green. So the forests and whatnot are unfamiliar and it kind of freaks him out a little. Like, what if he gets lost, or eaten by a platypus-bear, or— 

He makes it through the thicket and into a clearing. Korra sits on a low platform of earth in a meditative posture with her back toward him. Bolin holds his breath, not wanting to interrupt any avatar spirit bridge stuff.

“Hey Bolin,” Korra says without moving, and Bolin instantly feels guilty for interrupting her.

“Hey. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt…” Bolin rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” Korra says as her shoulders slump into a slouch. “I wasn’t really doing so great with my mediation anyway. Are you okay?” She turns and looks at him, and Bolin is struck by how different she looks. Her haircut, of course, but she looks… older. Which makes sense, obviously. It’s been three years. Of course she looks older. Bolin probably looks older too, from the last time Korra saw him. 

“I’m good!” Bolin says, plastering on one of his crowd-pleasing smiles. Korra looks sad and tired, and she’s struggling with meditating. Maybe he needs to brighten her mood?

She frowns at him. Not the reaction he was hoping for. 

“Are you really?” she asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft. 

“Oh, uh. Yeah! Just. You know. Toph and Lin are arguing. Wanted to get away from another potential Beifong showdown.” He lets out a nervous laugh at the idea of Lin fighting with Toph the way she fought with Su.

Korra furrows her brows and tucks her hair behind an ear. “Right. Where’s Opal?”

Bolin averts his eyes. He doesn’t want to talk about how Opal hates him now. “Not sure, she went to set up a tent and get some sleep, I think.”

“What’s going on with you two?” Korra asks, cutting through Bolin’s bullshit. “I know she’s upset with you, but what happened?”

“Nothing!” Bolin says, defensiveness bleeding into his voice. “It was just… An argument. Disagreement. Misunderstanding. Whatever.”

“If it's a misunderstanding or whatever, why won’t you just go talk to her?” Korra huffs and crosses her arms. “I know how you are, Bolin. You never want to get into the hard stuff.”  

Her forceful tone and insistence that she knows him so well sparks and unexpected anger in his chest. Why does she think she knows him so well? She doesn’t know him that well! She hasn’t spoken to him in three years, so even if she used to know him well, she certainly doesn’t know him well now!

“Because there’s no point!” Bolin says insistently. “Why bother? Look, I don't know if you’ve noticed, but the Beifongs really know how to hold a grudge! Not to mention, she doesn’t want to talk to me, so it would be kind of wrong for me to disrespect that, and also—

“You’re making excuses. If you care about her, you have to talk to her!” Korra says, and her tone has taken a sharp turn into indignation. Something about it pushes Bolin over the edge.

“You don't get to disappear for three years and act like you know what’s best for me! You couldn't even write me one letter, all that time and now you want to tell me—” Bolin cuts himself off, because he’s not like that, he’s not a mean guy, he doesn’t have a temper, he’s always just gone with the flow and taken what life gives him! 

He doesn’t yell at people. He’s not brutally honest with them, because if he is they’ll leave him! He’s been left alone so many times, he can’t start lashing out and pushing people away even more. Korra just came back into his life, and he’s already giving her reason to leave again!

Bolin instantly feels guilty as Korra’s face falls. She tips her head down, staring at the dirt silently. He clamps his mouth shut and mentally tries to stomp down the anger trying to catch fire in his chest. He has to figure out a way to make her not hate him, he can’t handle Korra leaving him behind again….

“Sorry,” Bolin says, regret and fear overwhelming him. “I’m sorry for snapping.”

Korra’s silent for another few beats before she inhales deeply and lifts her head. She looks Bolin squarely in the eye and swallows hard before speaking.

“I tried to write to you.” Korra’s eyes start to glisten, and Bolin realises with shame that she’s about to cry. Great, he made Korra cry. Nicely done. Bolin feels like a complete ass now.

“I’m sorry, Korra, don’t be upset, I didn’t mean—”

“I picked up a pen, put it to paper more times than I can count. But I didn’t have the words, I couldn’t figure out what to say.”

“You could have said anything!” Bolin says desperately. “You could have written: ‘Hi Bolin, I don’t know what to say. Sincerely Korra.’ At least I would have known that you were alive and thinking about me!” Great. Now Bolin feels like he might start crying.

Korra is silent as she seems to mull his words over. Bolin hears his own heartbeat pounding in his head as he tries to hold back his emotions. 

“I was in a lot of pain. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t dress myself .” Korra brings her palm to her face and wipes away the stray tears. “I was in such a dark place. And you and Asami were out in the world doing things. Everytime I picked up the pen, everything felt too heavy to write out, like it would be too much of a burden when you already had these huge responsibilities. Responsibilities that I should have been handling…”

“You’ve done, like, a million more important things than Asami or I have ever done!” Bolin says, shocked at Korra’s confession. How could Korra actually think she was a burden, or that she should be the one out there fixing the world while she was trying to get better? “You saved the city from Amon! You stopped Vaatu! You brought airbenders back! And then you got hurt because you were willing to sacrifice your life to save the airbenders! If you retired today and never did another thing to help the world you still would have made the world a better place!”

Korra studies the ground for a moment, biting her lip. “That’s obviously not true. Look at what Kuvira’s been doing… If I’d been around, maybe I could have helped with reuniting the Earth Kingdom…”

“So what? You had to recover!”

“Yeah. It was a long road, but I can bend and fight again, and Toph helped me go back into the Avatar State,” Korra says carefully. “But I don’t feel like myself yet. I still feel like everything is a struggle. Everything used to come so naturally, you know?”

Bolin’s heart aches and he feels guilt and shame that he didn’t realize what she was going through. “Korra, it’s okay if you don’t feel like yourself yet, I’m just glad you’re back, you know?

“Yeah. I’m back. I’m sorry it took me so long, but I’m here for you again, you know?” Korra lifts her chin and locks eyes with Bolin. Something strong and fierce shines in her eyes. “You’ve been my best friend since I left the south pole. You were the first friend I made when I came to the city, and I care about you, and I think I know you pretty well. So I’ll tell you again: go talk to Opal.” She sharply enunciates the last four words for emphasis.

Bolin considers her words, but he’s not sure if it will do any good. Still, if the avatar is telling him to do something, maybe he should acknowledge her avatar's wisdom or whatever and just do what she says.

“Fine,” Bolin says in an exaggerated tone, slouching and sighing. “But if she airbends me over the hillside, I’m blaming you!” He pokes her arm and flashes a wide grin to show her he’s teasing. Because that’s how he wants things to be with Korra. She’s the Avatar, but she’s always been witty and willing to play along with his antics.

“I’ll accept full responsibility,” Korra says, holding her hand up as if to solemnly swear. Then she cracks a smile and Bolin knows things are back to normal between them. Maybe even better 

Bolin laughs. “I missed you,” he admits. “A lot.”

“I missed you too,” she says with a weary smile.

Korra throws her arms around him in another hug, and just like that, his best friend is back. 

For now, anyway. Bolin knows not to trust that anything good will stay for long.

Bolin finds Opal in a clearing, setting up the single-person tent. The starlight shines down on her as she focuses on straightening out the canvas flaps. She notices Bolin approaching and frowns as she turns toward him. The shadows and light accentuate every beautiful feature—her soft green eyes, her sparse freckles that dot her cheeks almost imperceptibly, her perfectly wind-ruffled hair…

“What do you want, Bolin?” she asks, looking back down as she focuses on tying her tent to the stakes.

“Uh… I was wondering if we could… talk?” Bolin asks, anxiety taking hold. There are so many ways this conversation could go wrong. What if he says the wrong thing and she’s done with him forever?  

“What do you want to talk about?” Opal says as she looks up. Her voice is short and sharp as she stands tall. A breeze flows through the trees around them before swirling down and sweeping through her hair. Spirits, she’s beautiful, even when she’s fierce—No, especially when she’s fierce.

“I just want to say that I'm sorry for everything,” Bolin says, wringing his hands anxiously.

“It's a little late for ‘sorry’." Opal crosses her arms and looks away. 

“I know, I know. I was an idiot, I didn't listen to you, and I'm so sorry about the way we left things. I'm such an idiot. You were right and I'm just an idiot… But I’m gonna make it right! I hope ... that ... I'll be able to earn your trust again,” Bolin says, averting his eyes and staring at a very interesting rock off to his side.

“My family is in a prison camp.” Opal says, tears filling her eyes. “Kuvira brought an army to take my home, she captured my whole family and they’re probably being tortured right now! How do you expect me to trust you again?”

“We’re going to get them out,” Bolin says earnestly. “And I’ll do whatever I have to do to free them.”

Opal lets out an angry hmph and crosses her arms. “She invaded Zaofu weeks ago. You and Varrick defected a few days ago. How can I possibly believe you when you did nothing for so long!?”

Bolin’s heart pounds. They’re going to the prison camp. It’s going to come up, one way or another, that he spent the last few weeks there. Why is it so scary to tell her? She already hates him, it’s not like it’s going to hurt any worse if she knows what he went through and pushes him away more…

But maybe it will hurt more. Now, she hates him because she thinks he stood by quietly while Kuvira’s people dragged her family away. If he tells her the truth and she still hates him, he’ll know that she just hates him. Not the things he’s done, but who he is. Wouldn’t it be better to just leave things as they are?

“You don’t have anything to say for yourself?” She asks, her voice growing desperate. “No excuses? Not even a stupid joke to change the subject? What’s wrong with you?”

That’s the question, isn’t it? What is wrong with Bolin? Lots of things. Where to even start?

Korra told him to talk to Opal. Clear up the misunderstanding. He’s got to tell her.

“I… I tried, Opal. I tried to stop her, but…”

Bolin has the words, but they won’t come out. His tongue feels stuck to the roof of his mouth as the darkness of the mines clouds his vision and the weight of the shackles slow him down and the smell of molten metal hits his nose and the taste of bland, watery soup washes over his tongue, and the screams of the other prisoners overwhelm his ears and—

“What do you mean, you tried to stop her?” Opal asks, confusion replacing the anger on her face.

“I tried to stop her from taking Zaofu, and she…”

The words hang heavy between them as Bolin lets his sentence trail off. Opal’s confusion fades, but instead of anger, her eyes grow wide with horror. 

“Bolin…” Opal takes a step toward him now. “How do you know where the camp is?”

Bolin wraps his arms around himself. 

“Bolin, did Kuvira… Did she put you in a prison camp?” Horror darkens Opal’s face and Bolin can’t even look in her eyes anymore. 

“Forget about it,” Bolin says, turning around, desperate to leave, to hide away, terrified to be seen.

Opal’s hand lands on his shoulder, gripping him tightly. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

He turns back toward her, and notices tears filling her eyes. Too much crying this evening, Bolin doesn’t like it. He wants everyone to smile, to be happy!

“I just… didn’t want to talk about it,” Bolin says, edging toward honesty.

“So you just let me be pissed at you this whole time?” Opal starts looking angry again, and Bolin doesn’t really understand why. He was just trying to keep it light, spare her from all his angst. She’s upset that he was trying to give her space?

“I didn’t know what to say,” Bolin blurts out, and no, it’s not lost on him the irony of the fact that Korra just told him that and he did not like it as an answer.

“Oh, Bolin…” Opal suddenly throws her arms around him in a hug, and it catches him by surprise but he accepts it all the same. “I thought Kuvira had sunk her claws into you and changed you! You’ve always wanted to help people, you’ve always cared about people. When you walked away from Yi, from me, I thought you were different. I thought, ‘The Bolin I know would never do that!’ I was so angry and I didn’t think there was any other reason you’d walk away from all those people who needed your help…” Opal’s tears fall now, trickling down her face. 

“You were right,” Bolin says, his voice cracking as he gets choked up. “I should have stayed with you. If I’d quit the army when we saw each other in Yi, and stayed and helped you and Kai…” 

“But back then I didn’t think she’d imprison you!” she says frantically. “If I thought she’d hurt you I wouldn’t have let you walk away!”

“And I never thought she’d attack Zaofu,” Bolin says sadly. “When I tried to convince her not to, she wouldn’t listen, and when I tried to… stop her… Well. She didn’t like that.”

“She’s going to pay,” Opal says angrily. “When I get my hands on her, I’m gonna—”

“Uh… Didn’t you swear an oath of non-aggression when you became an airbender?” Bolin interrupts with a nervous laugh before she can outline all the ways she would like to make Kuvira pay. These Beifong women sure can hold a grudge! 

“I don’t care about my oath. No one hurts the people I love and gets away with it!” Opal wipes away her tears and frowns, steeled with determination. 

“Right. Don’t worry, we’ll get your family safe. I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Bolin promises.

“I’m talking about you too, you know,” Opal says. “I… I love you, Bolin.”

“Really?” Bolin blinks, surprised. “You were so mad at me, for Yi, I thought—”

“I can be mad at you and still love you,” Opal says, as if it’s obvious. “Honestly, the reason I was so mad is because I love you!”

“I…” Just say it back. I love you too. 

It feels like love has only ever brought him pain. If he admits that he loves Opal, what kind of pain will that bring him? 

She doesn’t take her eyes off of him, and she’s close, so close. She’s waiting, and each microsecond that passes by feels like an eternity.

“Uhhh you know, I just remembered,” he blurts out, his heart racing as he suddenly can’t handle the thought of all the pain that comes with loving someone. “Your aunt and your grandma were arguing earlier, and I think I might have felt the earth shake a teensy bit just now so maybe we should go—”

“Bolin, why do you always do this?!” Opal interrupts, putting her hand on his cheek. “It feels like every time we get closer, you pull away. I don’t want you to deflect with a joke, or change the subject. I just want you to talk to me. If you don’t love me, that’s okay. Just tell me!”

“Of course I love you!” Bolin blurts out, and now that he’s said it, his heart catches fire and he can’t put it out. “But if I love you that means it’s going to hurt that much worse when you leave me! It already hurt, when we fought in Yi and I lost you then. I can’t…”

“What makes you think I’m going to leave you?” Opal practically shouts in surprise. 

“That’s what people do!” Bolin says. “It already happened, in Yi—”

“You were the one who walked away in Yi, I wanted you to stay!” Opal points an accusatory finger at his chest. “And that’s not what people do, not people who love you!”

“Yes it is, it’s what—” It’s what my brother did, he almost says. He’s never told Opal about his brother before. She knows that he lost his parents, she knows he spent his childhood homeless and starving and barely surviving, but she doesn't know that he wasn’t really alone until he was abandoned at thirteen.

Abandoned. That's what his brother did. Bolin usually lets his mind slip around it, because when he thinks of himself being abandoned, it conjures up images of a litter of crocokittens left in a cardboard box on the side of the street and he really doesn’t want to think of himself like that. 

“Bolin, don't do that, don’t shut me out,” Opal says, cutting through his thoughts. “Talk to me, please!”

She’s right, that’s exactly what he’s doing—shutting her out. But it’s not because he wants to! Bolin would love nothing more than to pour his heart out to her and let out all his feelings and tell her about every awful thing that’s ever happened to him so he can throw himself in her arms and cry until he feels better. But what if she decides that it’s too much? What if she doesn’t want to be with someone who has such a fucked up past, who’s been hurt and and doesn’t know how to trust anyone?

But she’s here. She hasn’t left him, not yet. And she’s begging. It’s hard to keep shutting her out when she’s got tears in her eyes and she says please.

“It’s what my brother did,” Bolin says softly, like a confession.

Opal’s eyes grow wide. “Your brother? You never mentioned having a brother…” She holds his face gently, cupping his cheeks with her palms. “Was he… when your parents…?”

Bolin shakes his head no, and takes a deep breath. “No, he didn’t… die. He… took care of me. For a while. And then… He left me behind.” Bolin feels the tears starting up again. He blinks and feels the wetness stream down his face.

“He left you?” Opal asks, incredulous. “What happened?”

“He worked for a triad,” Bolin says, lowering his voice. Toph is nearby, she can probably hear them if she cares to eavesdrop. Not that it matters, but he probably shouldn’t loudly announce his relation to a member of the Triple Threat Triad when the former and current chiefs of police are nearby. “Works for a triad. Still. I assume.”

“Oh Bolin…” Opal reaches up and wipes some of his tears away with her thumb.

“I never knew everything he did, but I know it was bad. I know he… hurt people. And we had a chance to get out, when we were younger. But instead of taking it, he stayed with the triad and left me. He acted like he was protecting me from them, but I ended up alone and scared. ” Bolin hangs his head low.

Opal’s so close now, he can feel her breath between them. He wants to kiss her, but before he can ponder the impulse, she beats him to it. She presses her lips against his and wraps her arms around her. He does the same, leaning in to her more and clutching her tightly.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Opal says firmly when she pulls away. “And what happened in Yi… It’s not going to happen again, okay? We stick by each other's sides from now on. I’m not gonna leave you alone like that. I promise.”

Bolin wants to believe her. He does, sort of. He believes that she thinks she’ll never leave him alone. And he loves her, he really does.

And she’s still here, so maybe that means she’ll stick around for at least a little while longer.

Bolin tries not to panic when he sees the camp again. His heart is pounding hard, and Opal notices. She slips her hand in his as they fly on Juicy’s back, keeping low behind the trees and hillsides that overlook the prison camp. Opal squeezes his hand, and he feels reassured. He glances over at Korra, whose brows are furrowed and focused. (Yes, he told Korra about the prison camp. Lin and Toph too. Lin became especially indignant. Bolin tells himself that means she’s warming up to him. Maybe she’ll let him hug her one of these days!)

Toph, Lin and Varrick are on Oogie close behind. This is it. They’ll sneak in, do some recon, and try to find the Beifongs. Bolin’s having a hard time picturing any of them cooperating and engaging in the hard labor the camp guards force upon the detainees, so he guesses they won't be in the barracks or the usual work areas. Bolin hopes they’re still alive.

“Are you going to be okay?” Korra asks Bolin. “Coming back here…”

“I’ll be okay,” Bolin says, and he's trying very hard not to throw a fake smile on and make a joke because Korra and Opal have made it very clear that they will not be accepting Bolin's attempts to evade their questions with humor. “I mean… it's kind of freaky to be back here, but… I've got you guys. It'll be okay.”

When they find a place to land at the edge of the camp that's out of sight of the guard towers, Toph slams her bare foot to the ground and feels the earth for a moment. 

“Well? What do you think?” Lin says.

“Can't get a good read all the way in the camp. We’ll need to get closer to the center if I want to figure out where they are. There are people all over but I can't tell if it’s our family.”

Bolin feels a bead of sweat on his forehead. They’ll have to sneak in.

“Maybe you should stay out here—” Opal starts to say. She must have noticed his fear and now he kind of feels weird, because she’s kind of treating him like a kid or something, and he doesn’t really like that, but he also can’t exactly blame her because he doesn’t exactly have a history of being honest about his feelings! Ugh. Being vulnerable is very weird.

“No, I'm okay.” Bolin wipes away the sweat with the back of his hand. “There’s a warehouse in the center of the camp. It's where they build mechs.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” Varrick asks, biting his thumb nervously.

“...Prisoners.” Bolin sucks in a sharp breath. “In the warehouse, it’s mostly firebenders. They have to weld the parts together.” 

Baraz’s main job was welding. Bolin feels sick for a moment as he thinks about how he left Baraz behind. It’s not like Bolin had much of a choice! But it sends a fresh wave of guilt through him. He probably could have told Kuvira he wouldn’t help her, and then she’d throw him back into the camp, and that would have been terrible but he wouldn’t have left anyone behind! 

They make their way past the metal gates, Lin and Korra bending the chains open, and Toph bending them closed. (Bolin marvels at how seamlessly she bends the fence back together. You’d never know it had been ripped open! Man, Toph’s good!) They creep past the industrial supplies that litter this side of the camp, avoiding the guards thanks to Toph’s seismic sense.

They come upon the warehouse, and Toph bends the metal wall open. They all creep in, crouching behind some crates, and Bolin notes that there are no mechs in here anymore. Bolin can hear the roar of flames that the benders are using, but now there’s a large platform with… Something platinum on top of it. That must be where the platinum from Zaofu’s domes have gone.

“What is that?” Opal whispers.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen that…” Bolin says, peering out from behind a crate.

“It’s a cannon.” Lin whispers. “What the fuck…”

“I think I know where they are,” Toph whispers to Lin after she stamps her foot lightly on the ground. “Feel that cavern a few stories down? It seems empty, but it's guarded by an awful lot of mech.”

Lin carefully stomps her foot on the ground and closes her eyes to feel the earth under them. “Right. Why would you need soldiers guarding an empty cavern? They must have them in some kind of suspended prison, so they can't use their earthbending.”

“We’ve gotta get down there, take down those mechs, and get them out.” Korra says with a determined set of her jaw.

Suddenly, the main door to the warehouse opens and two figures step through.

“We've had a few minor malfunctions, but we should be ready for the test later today.” A voice rings out through the warehouse, and Bolin recognizes it immediately. He acts before he thinks, slapping a hand over Varrick’s mouth before he can scream out.

“Is that Zhu Li?” Opal whispers.

“Sure is,” Lin replies. “You said she volunteered to continue the spirit vine experiments? I bet that cannon uses the spirit vine power…”

Bolin locks eyes with Varrick and brings his finger to his lips in a shush motion before releasing his mouth.

“She’s building them a giant spirit-y death ray!” Varrick whispers with horror all over his face. “She really has abandoned everything she and I ever stood for…”

“Everything you stood for? Didn’t you once call her a ‘cold, heartless war machine?’” Bolin asks.

“Yes, but she was my cold heartless war machine! We always did it together!” Varrick says, raising his voice just enough to prompt Bolin to cover his mouth again.

“And what exactly was the problem with yesterday’s test?” A man's voice booms out through the room, and Bolin’s heart pounds. Commander Guan.

Opal locks eyes with Bolin and her brows draw up in concern as she notices Bolin’s fear, but they all remain silent as they listen in on Guan and Zhu Li’s conversation.

“The channeling ring was cracked,” Zhu Li answers. “It caused the condenser to back up. That's what caused the reaction to overload. We’ve repaired it, though, and taken it apart and put it back together to ensure there are no other damaged parts.”

“This delay is unacceptable.” Guan says angrily. “ The Great Uniter has declared war on the United Republic of Nations, and this cannon must be operational as soon as possible. ”

“It's a very complex machine. There are bound to be some bugs to work out,” Zhu Li says calmly.

“But you're doing everything you can to fix those, correct?” Guan leans forward.

“Of course, Commander,” Zhu Li says with a nod.

“She’s lying,” Toph says suddenly. The rest of them whip their heads toward her. 

“Wait, what?” Bolin whispers. “What does that mean?”

“Dunno.” Toph shrugs. “Maybe she doesn’t know how to fix the machine and she’s covering her ass…”

“Or maybe…” Korra peers around the crate to get another look. “Zhu Li didn’t abandon us after all…”

“What were they saying about war?” Opal whispers frantically. “Is Kuvira planning to attack Republic City with that thing?”

“We can’t worry about that right now,” Toph says insistently. “If they're testing that thing today, it’s the perfect opportunity to get our family out. We’ll worry about the rest later.”

“Gather the guards and workers,” Guan demands loudly. “I want them all to witness this incredible new weapon in action.”

The workers… He means prisoners. Witnessing a weapon in action? More like intimidating them into never rising up or fighting back…

Bolin glances back before they leave the warehouse. A few fire benders are welding pieces onto the base of the cannon, under close supervision of metal bending guards. Baraz might be here right now. There are earthbenders in the mines below, waterbenders diverting water to the otherwise dry desert camp, lightning benders powering the whole place, and nonbenders doing menial labor to keep the camp running.

There are so many prisoners here. And Bolin was thinking so much about freeing the Beifongs that he hadn’t thought about the fact that all the people he’d been imprisoned with are here. And once he leaves with the Beifongs, they’ll still be here. And there's no way to get them all out right now.

What can he do? Return to Republic City and beg the president or the mayor of the general of the United Forces to send soldiers to liberate the camp? Bolin knows that will never happen, not if Kuvira had declared war. They’ll be bolstering defences and wouldn’t bother to spare soldiers just to free the people here…

‘You have to toughen up!’ His brother’s voice rings out in his head. It’s unwelcome because not only does he not want to think about his brother, he also doesn’t want to be told to toughen up. Hasn’t he toughened up enough yet? He hates the thought that someday he might toughen up to the point that he stops caring!

“Bolin?” Opal whispers. “Come on, let's go find my family.”

Bolin nods and follows the others back out of the warehouse, trying to leave his thoughts and worries about the prisoners behind.

Bolin, Toph, Lin and Korra, all of them being earthbenders, go underground to get the Beifongs free; Varrick and Opal stay above ground to keep watch. The rescue goes off without a hitch! They take down the mech guards, they swing everyone out of the suspended cage one-by-one, and hurry back up to the surface from where they came.

“Mom! Dad!” Opal tearfully runs toward and embraces her parents when they emerge from the underground prison from the tunnel they bent just outside the warehouse.

“Reunion later. Let's move,” Lin says forcefully. “We need to get out of here before that weapon fires and the camp goes back to business as usual.”

“No, wait!” Opal says, panic and fear in her voice. “While you all were underground, something happened with the weapon. A malfunction—”

“We were right, Zhu Li was sabotaging the weapon!” Varrick adds. “They just dragged her off to the target sight, and a few other prisoners who started to protest! They’re going to fire that weapon on them and kill them!”

“We have to do something about that cannon,” Bolin says. “Destroy it, sabotage it, something! We can’t let all those prisoners die, they’re…” Bolin can’t finish his sentence because he’s got a lump in his throat. They’re his friends. Some of them, anyway. He knows Baraz well enough to guess he was one of the ones who protested, Bolin doesn’t doubt that he’s out there now, and he’s gonna die if they don’t do something! 

“Korra, you have to stop Guan,” Opal says pleadingly. “Take him down, you have to stop this!”

“I…” Korra hesitates, and Bolin’s heart aches for her, remembering all the things she said about her recovery and how she still doesn’t feel like herself. “Okay. Yeah. You’re right. I’ll confront Guan and stop him from firing the weapon.”

“We’re sure about this?” Suyin says, taking stock of everyone. “We’ll need a plan, and fast.”

“I saw a radio tower,” Varrick says. “I think I can disable some of the electric functions of the camp from up there.”

“I’ll take Juicy to the target site and get everyone free. Someone else can take Oogie with me,” Opal says.

“I will,” Bolin says quickly, pushing back his terror and tears. “I’m not letting anyone die because of that weapon.”

“Then the rest of us will have to do crowd control on the guards and mechs,” Lin says firmly.

Opal blows her air bison whistle, and Oogie and Juicy arrive within moments. Opal gives Bolin an airbending boost up on top of Oogie, and they’re off. Bolin glances down and sees everyone else scatter—though Lin and Su stick close to Korra as she stands tall and rushes toward the weapon, toward Guan.

Hopefully they can buy enough time for Opal and Bolin to get everyone away from the target site safely.

They make it to the target site, and Bolin sees Zhu Li and about a dozen prisoners chained down, struggling. Bolin recognizes all of them by sight, but only two by name—Baraz, just like Bolin suspected, and Ahnah. The waterbender Guan almost killed to force Bolin to grovel and submit.

“No way…” Baraz shouts as Bolin and Opal land. “Bolin!? You came back!?”

“We’re getting you all out of here!” Opal shouts. “Bolin?”

“Got it,” Bolin picks up a small rock and focuses his bending on it—applying pressure and tapping in on the innate, latent heat within the earth particles. He never could feel the refined particles of earth in metal, but in pure earth, he’d learned quickly how to force a molten state by connecting with the potential energy and releasing it with his bending. Within a second, the rock glows and radiates heat, and Bolin quickly and carefully cuts through the chains that bind everyone.

“Everyone on the bison!” Opal orders, and no one protests, scrambling to climb up so they can all fly away to safety.

Bolin gets to Zhu Li last, and she stares at Bolin like she’s seen a ghost. “I don’t understand, I thought you were dead!” she says as the chains fall.

“What?” Bolin blinks in confusion.

“They said that you and—and Varrick… on the train… They said it exploded, and—” Zhu Li has tears in her eyes, and Bolin can tell that those tears aren’t for him… They’re for Varrick. She thought Varrick was dead.

“No! Varrick and I made it out! We escaped just before the train blew up! He’s in the camp, right now, trying to help stop this!” Bolin says. The relief on Zhu Li’s face is more emotion than he’d ever seen from her before. 

It’s short lived, though, as they see a purple glow in the distance.

“It’s firing!” Opal screams. “Get down!”

And it fires, all right, but it misses, and Bolin suspects someone must have messed with it, because it’s wildly off the mark, firing high and to the side, hitting a cliffside behind them.

“Go, go, go!” Bolin says as the last of the prisoners and Zhu Li climb up onto the bison. Bolin launches himself onto Oogie’s back with a pillar of earth, and it’s not long before they’re flying fast.

“We’re alive!” Ahnah says with a joyful shriek. 

Baraz lets out a loud whoop and grabs Bolin by the shoulder as he laughs. “I can’t believe it, you didn’t have to come back, but you did!”

“I did have to come back,” Bolin says. “But we aren’t safe just yet…”

They fly closer and closer to the camp and Bolin sees Korra going one-on-one with Guan while the Beifongs all take down the guards and mechs, one by one.

And something else. The other prisoners… They’re fighting back.  

Bolin decides then and there that no one is getting left behind.

“Zhu Li, Varrick is in the radio tower!” Bolin shouts back. “He said something about taking out the camp’s electric functions, but it doesn’t look like anything’s happened… What do you think?”

“Varrick needs me,” Zhu Li says firmly. “Drop me at the tower, we’ll get it done.”

Bolin steers Oogie to the observation deck of the radio tower, and spots Varrick with a mess of wires and tools. Zhu Li leaps down, and Varrick’s gaze snaps up from where he’s wrapping a length of wire around a metal beam.

“Zhu Li!” Varrick’s voice is full of joy, his voice cracking as he nearly chokes up. “Do the thing!”

“On it, Sir,” Zhu Li says without hesitation, and she’s suddenly working in tandem with him, tearing a panel off the radio dashboard, hooking the wires into the machinery below.

Mind reading energybender. It’s the only explanation for how Zhu Li knows exactly what to do. That or… Maybe she and Varrick do have some kind of bond that lets them understand each other without words? 

Nah. Bolin’s gonna go with mind reading.

“Sure hopes this works!” Varrick says as he throws a switch.

And Bolin isn’t sure what exactly they were trying to do, but he’d say it definitely works. Every mech in the camp suddenly powers down, collapsing where they stand.

It turns the tide of the uprising below as the uniform guards start to panic and retreat, getting quickly overpowered.

“Come on!” Bolin shouts to Zhu Li and Varrick. “You guys did the thing! Now let's get outta here!”

As they fly down and away from the radio tower, Bolin sees Korra glow. The Avatar State! She overpowers Guan quickly, and with Lin and Su on either side of her backing her up, the other Beifongs are able to usher the rest of the prisoners away.

Korra, still glowing and surrounded by a vortex of every element, starts attacking the canon, but… She doesn’t make a dent. Platinum. She can’t bend it, and it’s too strong and thick; it withstands everything she throws at it.

Suddenly, Korra’s not glowing anymore, and Lin and Su are at her side, helping her up. She didn’t destroy the weapon, but she subdued Guan and the camp guards are retreating and the mechs are dead weight in the rubble and the prisoners are all running as the Beifongs usher them away. And they destroy everything they can on their way out—the industrial supplies, the guard towers, the barracks, the fences, everything!

They did it. They didn’t completely stop the weapon, but they liberated the camp. The camp that Bolin had been trapped in for weeks, that many of these prisoners and been trapped in for months or years. They got everyone free. 

Bolin locks eyes with Opal and she beams at him, and he’s never felt happier.

He hopes that happiness can last, in spite of everything.

He’s slowly learning that sometimes, he can count on others.

Chapter Text

Bolin stands near the edge of the dock, taking in the sight of the sea. The wind carries the smell of saltwater in a refreshing breeze that Bolin wasn’t sure he’d ever see again. Opal stands by his side, and warmth rushes through his chest as he feels her hand in his, threading their fingers together. She’s here for him, at least for the time being. He’s still sort of expecting that she’ll leave him someday, that she’ll walk away and he’ll be left alone, again… But he’s trying very hard to trust her and believe her when she says she’s there for him.

A flock of cranefish fly in the distance, occasionally diving down into the ocean water to catch some fish for a meal. The sea is vast and huge, and something about seeing it from this particular vantage point makes Bolin feel very small; back in Republic City, Bolin only ever saw the sea from the docks and beaches of Yue Bay. The land and islands all around the bay somehow made the ocean not seem quite so big. But Bolin is practically awestruck by the expanse of it.

But then Bolin turns toward the dock, and he feels some overwhelming emotions for a completely different reason. They’re all free. They got everyone out of the prison camp, and now they’re going to get everyone to safety.

They were able to take everyone from the site of the prison camp all the way to the docks at the seaport village on the shore of the Mo Ce Sea. It wasn't easy—they had to hijack some vehicles from the camp and the two bison are exhausted—but they managed. 

As it turns out, most of the prisoners—well, they’re not prisoners anymore, freed prisoners? No, refugees? Yeah, that’s the word, refugees—are not interested in fleeing to Republic City. Bolin doesn’t blame them, considering Kuvira has declared war on the United Republic of Nations. Something about how technically they’re on Earth Kingdom land. Earth Empire. Whatever. That explains why she needs such a big, deadly, super death ray even after she ‘united’ the Kingdom. Empire. 

Toph doesn’t want to go back to Republic City either. But luckily, the Beifong name carries a lot of weight. Toph, Su and Lin were able to convince the captain of a large passenger cruiser to make a special trip to take everyone they’d freed from the camp to safety.

“Mom, ‘thank you’ doesn’t begin to cover it,” Suyin says, clutching her chest. Her voice breaks slightly as she speaks, all the emotion bleeding through.

“Yeah, we couldn’t have done it without you,” Lin says, rubbing the back of her neck. “And listen… about what I said the other night, when we argued…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Toph waves her hand dismissively. “Look, I know I wasn't a great mother, but one way or another, I ended up with two great kids. Good enough to risk my bony old butt for, anyway. If you can just find some way not to hate me, maybe that's enough, at least for me.”

“Me too.” Lin smiles, which is always weird when it happens. Not that Bolin doesn’t want her to smile, it’s just so rare that it seems unnatural.

Su wraps her arms around her mother and grabs Lin by her arm, pulling her into a group hug. Bolin’s breath catches painfully in his chest as he stands next to Opal. He feels a jolt of envy and a rush of longing for the last time he hugged his own parents and brother…

“Bolin?” Opal says. “You have a look on your face. What’s wrong?” She blinks at him, her pretty green eyes looking almost turquoise as they reflect the color of the ocean.

Bolin’s first instinct is to brush it off, make a joke, plaster on a smile. But he’s learning, slowly, that maybe he doesn’t need to do that with Opal. He breathes in and out slowly.