So, this is an idea I got from a headcannon of mine, and also kinda ties into a prompt I read online, both which, oddly enough, have some similarities. From the prompt that was kinda like my headcannon, I came up with some of my own ideas for a fic, with some help from my good friend Boa. :)

(Hope that made sense)

Let me know what you guys think. Will be continued as a whole story, as close to following canon as I can make it! Each of the Krew will get their chance, and it will be the next episodes from their POVs in turn, with my take on them.


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{Amputees frequently wake up in a state of disbelief, and there's a recurring theme of doing their best to ignore the situation. Frequently, the first response is amicable and accepting, the anger and embarrassment hitting later.}

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Even the best fall down sometimes:

Bolin isn't aware how long he's been lying motionless in the murky nothingness. His eyelids are heavy—he wonders how long it's been since he's last opened them, and then realizes that he doesn't particularly care. After all, when was the last time that he'd slept this deeply, without the fear of street gangs coming after him, or waking up early for probending practice, or…anything?

He knows that it can't be sleep, though, because his body feels numb in the strangest way. His legs are twinging the way they sometimes do when they fall asleep, or after a long day. Bolin's arms, on the other hand, feel unbearably heavy, like something is pinning them down.

There's an annoying beeping noise in the background, and he groans, wishing that everything would just go silent again. He coughs, and the sound goes up in both speed and volume.

"…you imagine…feel…can't believe that…sorry…Bolin…please…damnit, just…wake up…"

A sudden sharp pain in his stomach leaves him confused, because what the hell had just happened? Why is he hearing Mako's voice? Why had Mako sounded so hurt and heartbroken?

"…I'm sorry…so sorry…Korra…arm…burnt…too…tell…in person…needs you…apologize…"

The world around him starts to blur into color, and the beeping around him escalates into a frantic crescendo. Bolin coughs, the noise sounding raw and animalistic coming from his throat. "Mhmm…" he moans, forcing his eyelids to open.

For some reason, Bolin feels like he's swimming upwards from the bottom of an infinitely deep pool, or climbing up an incredibly stiff mountain. Maybe he is, because he thinks-at least he is pretty sure-that the last thing he remembers, is swimming for his very life. Is he still in water...? No, that makes no sense with what he's hearing, and he doesn't feel wet...

Then, what...?

"...so hard...gonna fix this...please, I...wake up..."

It's hard, almost insanely hard, but he manages to force his eyes open and sees Mako, scarf wrapped around his shoulders as he leans forward in a plastic chair, his eyes wide and face pale.

It registers on a subconscious level that he hasn't seen Mako this relieved before in a long time.

"…M'ko?" he mumbles, testing out his voice. It sounds raw, but it's clear and loud enough. His breathing is a little strained and he feels sore all over, like he's completed a workout with Toza or a metalbending lesson. "Wha' happ'ned?"

"Bo!" His brother's voice is like sunshine breaking through dark, grey clouds and he relaxes, basking in the glow and comfort of the low baritone. Mako's hand tentatively touches Bolin's right hand, which is covered in bandages. "Are…what…are you okay? What do you remember?"

His glassy eyes twitch around the room; blurring, than straining, than blurring again. The machines, and equipment, and atmosphere clear any doubts about his location, instantly.

Hospital. He's in a hospital. His foggy mind registers that much, at least.

"S'okay," Bolin whispers, choking on a hacking cough and his eyes sting with the force of the cough. "Don't rem'mber…Wha' happened?" Seeing as his other hand is occupied, Bolin's brain sends a message to his left hand to wipe his eyes so that he can see better, because the world looks like he's squinting at it through a hangover—

But nothing happens.

Confused, he looks down at his arm, expecting to see it pinned down or in a sling or something, but there's nothing there.

There is literally nothing there but an empty space where his left arm used to be. His shoulder is wrapped in bandages, and subconsciously he knows that it's been burnt somehow, but he's too focused on the fact that his arm is missing.

It's gone.

"No…" Bolin doesn't realize he's said anything out loud. He doesn't have an arm.

He doesn't have an arm.

It's simply...not there.

He's…he's broken.

His eyes sting and hot tears slide down his face, making him feel even worse because Spirits help him, he is not going to cry in front of Mako. Bolin doesn't want to cry at all-

His arm has to be there.

Bolin blinks several times, and there's still nothing there.

His stomach clenches then, and suddenly there's vomit all over his bed sheets; thick and yellow and disgusting. The stench makes him gag, and Mako, to his everlasting credit, doesn't jump back.

"Bo…Bo…please, listen to me…Asami—she'll make you another arm. She told me she's going to make one, you're…you're going to be okay. I'm here for you, I—I love you so much, Bolin. Please, just don't panic. It's okay, it'll all be okay…"

Mako's words are white noise to his ears—all Bolin has the capacity to focus on is the gaping space where his arm used to be. And it's strange, because he can feel it. He can flex it and…and his wrist itches.

It fucking itches.

He thinks it's at that moment where his tears go harder than ever.

"I'm sorry, Bolin, I'm sorry," Mako repeats over and over, like a prayer or a mantra, each word feeling like someone has thrust a rusty dagger into his heart.

"…It—it's okay." Lies. He lies. "It's…okay, M-Mako…" he forces the words out of his mouth. The lies are like maggots, squirming under his skin, but he continues. "Don't ever be s-sorry. I'm fine." Bolin makes his lips tilt into a smile, even though a blind person could probably tell that he didn't mean it.

I don't have an arm. I'm not fine, I'm broken…I'mbrokenbrokenbroken, I'm Not-Fine.

"Are you—" his voice cracks, because what if Mako had lost something too? Maybe a leg? Had had surgery? His mind jumps to more and more gruesome possibilities until he feels the urge to vomit again.

Mako's hand squeezes his like a lifeline, as though his brother is the one that had lost his arm. "I'm fine, Bolin. Don't worry about me, bro."

They're silent for a moment before Mako speaks again, albeit hesitantly. "I…I know that this…feels like a nightmare, Bolin, and I'm so sorry…you don't even know how sorry I am—but I am here for you, okay? I'll never leave you—I don't care if you're missing all of your body parts. We're still brothers no matter what, Bolin. I love you."

"Love you back, big bro," Bolin says back, the phrase familiar on his tongue as he looks away from Mako's amber eyes and back down at the empty space where his arm had once been. He lets out a shaky breath, and clams his mouth shut.

His brother envelopes him in a huge hug and gets rid of the puke-stained sheets, tossing them on the floor and waits with him until the doctors come.

I'm broken.

Why? he thinks, wanting to howl and sob and scream, but wisely holds it in as a doctor questions him, checking his mental capacity. Why did it have to be me?

It's then that Bolin realizes, that even heroes fall, sometimes.


Thanks for reading! Specifically how Bolin got his injury/ what happened during the battle, will be discussed next chapter. ;)

All characters will get their turn with their POVs for book 3 as the canon story continues.