GOODBYE

At first, this was going to be part of my "Broken Branches" story. And then I reconsidered and put it in a story all its own.

Baatar and Kuvira's actions may not have been the most ideal, but no one can deny they had something beautiful going on between them.

Characters © Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino

Story © unicorn-skydancer08

All rights reserved.

"Are you okay, son?"

"I'm fine, Mother."

In truth, Baatar was feeling all but sick to his stomach, and his legs were shaking so badly he could hardly walk. Part of him wanted to turn around and bolt right now, even though another part of him knew he would never truly be able to get on with his life until he took care of this—something he had put off for too long already.

As they followed the warden down the dim, narrow hall, Baatar could tell his mother was no more eager to be here than he was. It showed in her eyes, in her rigid posture and painstaking step. But she said nothing, not until they reached the designated cell.

Even then, all she said was, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Baatar shook his head. "Thanks, Mom. But this is something I need to do alone." He wasn't sure what would happen in there with the two women, and he didn't want any trouble—at least, no more trouble than necessary.

Besides, this really was something that called for maximum privacy.

Su nodded and whispered, "I'll wait for you, then." She patted his shoulder. "Take all the time you need, sweetheart."

"Thanks," said Baatar, managing a fraction of a smile.

After a brief but sincere hug, Su disappeared the other way, leaving Baatar with the warden. The warden opened the door and stepped aside without a word. It took just about everything Baatar possessed to place his foot over the threshold.

Even though he knew what to expect, the sight still twisted his heart.

The cell itself wasn't too bad, no worse than what Baatar had imagined. But the figure stretched out on the small bed…Baatar hardly recognized her, despite knowing her for as long as he had. Her clothes appeared two or three sizes too big for her. The few bits of skin that showed were almost pure white. Her hair looked like it hadn't seen a brush or shampoo in ages. When Baatar stepped closer, it gutted him to see how thin and sickly her face was. Dark smudges marked both eyes, and her cheekbones were more prominent than he had ever seen them.

She didn't seem aware of his presence, or anyone's, for her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow but steady.

For a long moment, Baatar just stood there and stared. Then he bowed his head to his chest.

He didn't want to pity her, didn't want to love her anymore. Yet he found himself loving her and pitying her all the same. Knowing that he was no different than her, that this could just as easily have been his fate as well, only added to the tenderness and pain.

He thought briefly about waking her, and then brushed the temptation aside.

Instead, he pulled up a chair and settled into it.

Almost without realizing it, his fingers lifted a stray lock of hair that trailed in her face. He set that lock in its proper place and gently smoothed it with his palm. That same hand found its way all the way down her face, following her jawline, until his fingertips just brushed her lower lip.

He wondered if this was how his mother felt when she'd sat at his side and watched him sleep.

The softest of moans escaped the girl's lips right then. As her position on the bed began to shift, Baatar drew back but stayed in his chair.

When her eyes opened, it again affected him more than he would have believed possible to see them so red, so swollen.

She blinked, looking confused at first. Then, as her eyes met Baatar's, recognition dawned in them.

"Baatar." Her voice was hardly a whisper.

Feeling oddly reluctant to use his normal voice, he answered in a whisper, too. "Yes, it's me."

She blinked again, and the barest hint of a smile graced her wasted face. "So, you decided to pay me a visit after all."

"I figured it was long overdue."

Slowly, Kuvira pulled herself a little more upright, grunting at the effort and discomfort.

Baatar was glad to be sitting now, because he didn't think his legs could hold him anymore. His heart beat so hard and so fast; he was amazed it hadn't already burst from his chest.

Looking him all over, almost as if to inspect him, Kuvira remarked, "You look well."

He nodded. "I am. All things considered, anyway." He couldn't help adding, "But you…" He made a slight gesture, as if to sum her up in action instead of words.

"I've been worse." She gave her sagging shirtfront a little twitch. "Believe it or not, Baatar, this is actually a step in the right direction."

Long after, Baatar often wondered whether that was indeed the case or Kuvira only said that to reassure him.

For a time, neither of them spoke.

Kuvira ended up breaking the heavy silence first. "So why are you really here?"

When Baatar opened his mouth, ready to deliver the speech he had rehearsed so many times earlier, he found he couldn't speak after all.

Try as he might, the words somehow wouldn't come.

In another moment, Kuvira held up her hand and told him softly, "You don't have to answer. I already know. You've come to settle the score. To officially wash your hands of me."

Now Baatar did find his voice. "Yes," he replied as softly as ever, "and no."

Kuvira looked at him curiously.

"I have come to settle certain…matters," he continued, his voice wavering somewhat. "I've been at war with myself for weeks, and I've come to the conclusion that I can never move forward until I've seen you and spoken to you at least once more."

"As you should." Kuvira kept her head up, her gaze level, her voice remarkably composed despite the evident sadness. "Even if I do get out of here, it could never be the same between us. And that's how it should be. You deserve better than me, Baatar. So much better."

Placing his large, warm hand over her small, clammy one, Baatar whispered, "But I also want you to know that I don't hate you, Kuvira."

"Oh, you don't?"

"Oh, I wanted to. Raava knows I wanted to." He sighed. "Even now, I can't understand why you would do what you did, and I don't think I ever will."

"I won't waste your time and my breath with rationalizations," Kuvira said, dropping her voice further. "But let it suffice that I couldn't have regretted what I'd done more than anything else I had ever done, and I will take that regret to my grave."

With one hand, Baatar removed his glasses and used the other hand to massage his face. "I suppose hating you would have also made me the world's biggest hypocrite," he murmured, "given that my actions didn't vary so much from yours."

"At least you came to your senses in time," she told him. "At least you still have a chance to make things right."

Returning his glasses to their perch, Baatar said, "I can only try, anyway."

Now Kuvira reached out to him. "If we never see each other again after today, Baatar, if I can give you nothing else, I can give you this last piece of advice. Go make something useful, truly useful, of yourself. Do everything you can to make this world a better place for everyone. Find someone else to love. You have much love to give, and it's a gift that should never be wasted or given to just anybody. Have as many kids as possible. If you're lucky enough to have a daughter, raise her in a way that she'll be a thousand times better than I ever was."

The lump in Baatar's throat almost cut off his breathing, and it was another good while before he could speak again.

There was so much he could have said then—so much he yearned, with every fiber of his being, to say.

But all he could get out of his mouth was, "I'll never forget you, Kuvira."

"Nor I you."

He leaned forward and gathered her into his arms for one final embrace. She never resisted him. With his lips brushing her ear, he said almost inaudibly, "I love you."

"And I you." She squeezed him with the little strength she could muster. "Enough to let you go."

How long they clung to one another like that, no one could say.

Even when they relinquished their grip, they both took their sweet time to do so, feeling all along each other's shoulders and forearms until their hands clasped each other. Baatar lifted Kuvira's hands to his face and bestowed a light kiss on them. His own fingers tingled in a strange way after he had released her completely.

No one said anything more as Baatar stood up. Somehow, he got his legs to cooperate as he headed for the door, which the warden held for him.

Just before he set foot out the door, he heard Kuvira's voice from behind, one more time. "Goodbye, Baatar."

He stood still for a moment, closing his eyes, already feeling the tears trickling down. Yet he answered readily enough.

"Goodbye, Kuvira."