Author's Note at the end

They did it. They won. They won; spirits he still couldn't believe it. In the ditch that had been created, surrounded by the ruins of Republic City and spirit trees, the victory played itself; Kuvira, defeated, had finally admitted defeat to team Avatar. The new spirit portal was shining brightly, almost a smaller sun in the middle of the town, and when he saw Korra emerge he almost sobbed. Every one of his friends very nearly died, but by some gargatuan miracle there they all stood. Well, there Mako and he stood. Seeing his two best girl friends leaving - although he wasecstatic for their newly-made relationship - left Bolin feeling hollow somewhat. Why is it we always end up separating? The question was quickly squashed as other people rushed in the area. First were airbenders; he searched for Opal, but couldn't see her.

"It's just an appointment Mako, I'll be fine," he reassured his brother with his usual swagger, albeit less energetically. "I've walked around this city since I was just a toddler; you should know!"

An annoyed or frustrated sigh. "I'm just worried, okay? I mean, can you really blame me, after everything we've been through?"

Silence. Then, "No." Bolin couldn't fault his brother; Mako had almost always known what to do, who to listen to, what questions to ask to whom and when, and also how. It was impossible for Bolin to think of everything Mako would ask of the doctor or nurses. But it wasn't in his nature; if something could be done, he'd find a way, regardless of what he'd be told.

"But it's time I do things on my own," he paused, taking a few breaths. "I can't rely on you for everything and I have to learn to handle myself, by myself."

Mako snorted softly. "I think you handle yourself pretty well. After all, you are the world's leading authority on lavabending." It was mostly empty praise, meant to make his brother feel better. They both knew that, but Bolin appreciated the effort.

Smiling crookedly, Bolin slung his coat on half-hazardely. "Look, I gotta go now, or I'll be late to being early." Both chuckled. "But we're meeting up tonight, with Korra and Asami; I'll talk to you then?"

Mako nodded, still uneasy a bit. "Yeah, okay. Besides I got... Business... To do."

Bolin barked a few laughs. "Good, maybe it'll keep you busy until I grace you with my magnificent presence once more!" He saluted as he left his brother, on his way to the nearest tramway stop.

He walked, with a little bounce still present in his step, humming quietly a relaxed tune. His cotton mouth was too dry for him to whistle. As he not-whistled, Bolin took in the mostly rebuilt aspect of his beloved town. After much labour it was finally starting to resemble once more the great city it had been. Bolin hazely remembered a story about a bird rising from its' ashes.

He stopped near a corner on a big street - at least four lanes - and waited by the tracks. The trams came by every couple of minutes and so he wasn't worried about missing his appointment. The system - designed by a conglomerate of the city's corporations, including Future Industries - was a well oiled machine; everything worked when it was supposed to, service was quick, easy and cheap, and it used the tax payers' money. Every one could have a ride.

The sudden gust of late autumn wind rattled Bolin from his thoughts. His coat billowed this way and that in the not-gentle breeze. Maybe I should've brought a hat... He complained to himself, clasping close his coat and ducking his face behind his lapels.

It was cool, and relaxing; it's all he wanted for the rest of his life - or at least for a while - just a quenching sea of azure under the blue sky, bathing him in its calming light. For a while, Bolin only saw the baby blues of Korra; how they were glistening like the salty ocean, with the same depth but as clear as crystals.

The avatar hadn't been back for two days that she bullied him into having lunch. Her treat, of course. Right now she talking to him, animately. He wasn't listening though, he wasn't really in the mood to talk; too tired to really carry a conversation.

She'd say he was being silly. It was barely afternoon; but he had barely touched his food, and she made most of the conversation.

She noticed though, and gave him a look. He fibbed that he'd been up late.

The conversation carried on without him really pulling his weight. She was warm, like the sea under the hot sun. She was like the rolling waves; roaring and energetic, but it tolled him to follow along. Like running against the current. Like with the navy sea, thecurrent didn't stop, and carried it with him to some unknown destination.

She paid for the bill, asked him if he was alright, anything wrong?

He chuckled, not imagining her to be the mother-henning type.

She offered to walk back together. He declined.

The steel blue cab came and swept him to his rendez-vous. The office felt grand and empty, sterile. The lady clad in light, almost blinding, blue was curt, too professionnal. The room was cramped, like a bubble, tight against his body; he felt like he was drowning. The doctor put things in him, drained him; stuffed him in a machine and told him to relax. He felt like he was in a water trap.

Blue was calming. But was also cold, alien, to him. It was steely, and he hated it for the gasping it made him do, for the jolt it sent through his skin and soul.

Nature, rebirth, life. All things that applied to him. Bolin doubted that now; he much more felt the other aspect of green... The sickness, those ugly feelings inside you, the undeniable nausea at the back of your throat you just can't rid yourself of.

Yeah. Bolin felt like that. Not slimy per say, but he had the undeniable feeling something was getting under his skin, weighing him down. Even right now, lying down in the grass with his friends, a load not unlike training weight rested all over his body.

The soft cool grass under the warm sun felt like a soft cot he should've fell asleep on. But he was too weary, but captivated by other greener things. His head rested in Opal's lap, her lithe fingers threading through his hair soothingly. Her eyes would flit back to him every now and then, but were mostly focused on Asami.

The engineer was telling her friends of her journey in the spirit world; obviously some thinngs were left out, he imagined. The first thing she'd asked for was a drawing board and pencil, eager to jot some ideas and sketches down. Her eyes were practically glittering with some form of excitment. She had practically lunged at him when she saw him first. The Spirit world had loosened her up a bit.

His own eyes were mostly closed, the bright sunshine giving him a headache. He constantly felt the thumping of blood going through his temples. Bolin's mouth was slightly agape, his noise useless due to allergies or some other thing.

That evening when he got the results, he definitely felt green.

Passion, love; excitment. Blood; life. Yeah... Life, he thought spitefully. What life would he have?

None, that's what. And all because of his blood. It wasn't even something he could've fought; it's in him. It's in his blood.

But people could change; maybe if he just didn't talk about it, hid, ignore it... Maybe it would all just leave.

Mako's usually passionate but reserved eyes were dull with fatigue. Funny, Bolin thought sardonically. He'd thought he would've been the tired looking one. Maybe he was; he didn't bother checking. He didn't care.

The only thing he could think of was the damn treatment. It hung above him like Damocles' sword. If the treatment could kill him, what was the use!? Was it even worth it; he didn't want to imagine the inevitable pain, the side effects. Dying.

He actively wondered, would his blood be the same colour it should be after all this? Would his eyes remain the same - not so - vibrant green, or would they fade to hazy bloodshot cataracts?

"Have you made your decision?" Mako asked, his voice a bit hoarse from tiredness.

"About?" He croaked.

Mako's face drew up in a frown. "Bro," he warned. "Your doc appointment."

"I'll book it," he replied. "I dunno, next week..?" Yeah right, he already went. Did he tell them? No. Was he planning to? Well...

Mako huffed. "Well, as long as you go. I'd rather sooner than later, you don't look so great."

"Hey, I ressemble that remark," he joked weakly.

Mako gave him a small smile. He hoped his baby brother was okay. It's just a passing illness, he told himself.

People in the waiting area had an idea what was going on in the other room. Muffled shouts were making their way through the hospital walls, feeding into their eavesdropping habits. They imagined a young man, who the doctor refused to help. Scorning the doctor they wished the best for the poor boy

Inside the room, however, a different story was painted. The young man in question was shouting.

"NO! Look, if I wanted to suffer, I wouldn't do anything, or hell, I'd just take the damn chemo!"

"I understand," the doctor replied curtly, his clipped tone indicating his true anger towards his favourite patient. "But I cannot, in my right mind, let you do this to yourself!"

"That's too bad-" he tried to say, before his entire body was wracked by coughing fits. "Cuz I don't want your help! Or anyone's! Why can't people drop this!"

"Because! We're worried about you kid... I hate seeing kids go before me; I'm almost seventy, and you won't be the first one."

That's your problem, he wanted to reply bitterly. He wanted to scream, break things and leave the office as empty and destroyed as he felt. But he couldn't. Not this man, or any other really. Bolin was just too empty to do anything to anyone.

Breathig heavily, Bolin regarded his doctor. "I don't expect you to understand. I saw things," he started stuttering. "I can't unsee." Or undo. "I'm tired, and I don't want this fight. I did my fighting, I paid my dues."

"You are so young for someone who's lived so much," the doctor replied softly. "Everyone will always have dues, kid. Sometimes it ain't even about them; it's about putting on a good show. Or just putting up a fight; showing people that 'hey, you can do the thing'!" He paused. "Don't let a curve in the path make you deviate from your goal..."

Silence.

Uncomfortable, chocking silence.

"I'll come by later to tell you my final decision," Bolin mumbled in his raspy voice before opening the door and leaving. It swung close slowly, and closed with an nigh soundless click.

He'd stolen a chair from one of the other buildings. Maybe some sunlight would clear his mind; maybe the gentle bay breeze and the smell of the ocean would relax his jitters. Maybe he was looking for an excuse to be alone.

His skin was hot under the sun, a welcomed change from the constant chills he'd been cursed with recently. His head still pounded; he felt like somebody was hitting a bucket with a wrench right next to his ears. But the wind was in his hair, and he content just relaxing in his chair.

With no idea of time passing, he'd been sitting there, in one of the plain-like area of the island. Just thinking. And sleeping. Well, mostly sleeping. Or drifting into a sleepless slumber, more like. He hadn't really been paying attention to his surroundings or the view. Or his present problem. Or anything, really.

Not even to the slow moving clouds, perfectly fluffed for watching; nor to the soft rustle of flying lemurs jumping from branch to branch, gathering peaches from the trees. That's why he didn't hear the rustle of feet in the grass, the whispers carried by the breeze. That's also why he was scared out of his skin, his heart jumping into an arythmic hyperdrive when he felt two slender hands cover his eyes.

However, the husky giggles and chuckles calmed him. "Guess who?" Called a familiar tomboyish voice.

"Gee, I dunno," he replied smiling, but it didn't quite reach his voice. "Lin?"

"Pfft, nice try," Korra answered. She dropped her hands from his eyes, allowingg him to crane his neck to look at his makeshift family. "So wassup?"

He shrugged minutely. "Usual, haven't done much. You guys?" He asked to the group.

Opal spoke first. "Well, I for one wanted to spend some time with a certain someone..." She left the sentence hang coyly.

"And we figured you might enjoy a picnic," Asami continued.

"Could be here or anywhere else you want to go," Mako reassured.

"Yeah! But please hurry! Mr don't-touch-the-food-until-it's-perfect didn't let me eat a single slice of anything!" Korra joked.

"... Right here is fine," Bolin replied, nonplussed about where to eat. Opal had taken his hand in her's, gently tugging at him to sit in the grass with them. He complied, a small smile gracing his lips.

He sat between his brother and his girlfriend - were they still that or just very close, he wondered - and Asami and Korra sat in front of them, shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee. Asami had been carrying the basket, and Mako had already set the cloth for them to sit on. Korra pulled out the food, handing the drinks to Opal. She began pouring drinks for everyone - apparently she didn't need to ask who wanted what - and Korra served food, mostly sandwhiches and salads, as if they'd all preordered. This all felt very rehearsed.

"Did you guys practise this?" He asked, motion almost dissimisively at their ensemble.

"Ugh, can't we just eat I'm starving!" Korra deflected. And that was that.

They chatted, Mako initiating the conversation for once. "Talked to Lin yesterday," he told them, then turned to Bolin. "She wanted to talk to you; hadn't seen you in a while."

"Did she say what she wanted to tell me?"

Mako shook his head, but Asami replied. "It's probably something to do with warthbending or the police corps."

Korra handed him a packed plate, which in all honesty, he had no idea how he was going to eat even a meager half of. He put it on his lap and munched absent-mindedly on a piece of celery. It hurt his teeth and tasted like copper, but it made him look like he was paying attention.

"I was patrolling with Kai the other day," Opal started. She launched into her anecdote about how he spent most of his time harmlessly pranking people. "He looked kinda down though. When's the last tiem you two spoke?" She asked Bolin.

"Weeks," he replied robotically, still munching on his celery piece. In truth, he didn't recall. For all he knew Kai and he could've seen each other the previous day; things were starting to blur together.

He eventually finished his celery - by then Korra had snatfhed some food from his plate, with his nonspoken consent of course - and he went for the remakning vegetable, carrots. Crunching on one weakly, he resisted the urge to gag and groan. He felt like his teeth were chewing on aluminium foil, sending a jolt at every bite. Plus it tasted like shit.

He hadn't notice the others stopped talking. He noticed their stares first, because of course he'd first be worried by appearances. He saw it in their eyes. This was an intervention; they knew something was wrong, but not what. He was just thankful they kept their noses to themselves and didn't root through his stuff. He took comfort in the fact he still had some portion of a secret to keep.

"Alright," he sighed, clearly done with this. "Let's hear it."

They pounced on him. They suffocated him with questions, "where have you been going?", "you haven't eaten much lately, what's wrong?", "you look sickly, are you okay?" and on, and on, and on. He tried to answer; at least they were reasonable enough to quiet down when he spoke; his voice really didn't carry much anymore. His words were vague, his answers unhelpful. He wanted to keep them out of it, out of the loop.

Why couldn't things just go back to the way theybwere before? All he wanted was to feel how he felt before... Before all this. The back half of his life had just been shit hitting the fan. Having his bending almost taken away; his fall from grace as a member of one of the most reputable probengding teams; his failed mover career; part-time assassistant for like a week; nearly dying at the hands of his ex and her dad; failing to save his friend from being kidnapped; joing the wrong side of a war for years; his brother nearly dying because he couldn't do anything; getting sick; and now, of all the spirit-damned things that could've happened... His friends wanted answers.

What the hell was he supposed to say? He couldn't understand what they wanted; maybe for him to tell them it was just a seasonal thing or something probably. Fuck it.

"I have acute Leukemia."

The waiting room was awkwardly quiet; most of its occupiant were not actually their for their own ilnesses. The group was huddled together, sitting uncomfortably in the plastic chairs, looking everywhere trying to distract themselves. Nothing was working. They could feel the hands of the clock turning continuously. Their eyes grew tired of the chipped wall paint they'd been staring at for spirits know how long. The quiet buzzing of the airvents gave each and everyone there their own headache.

In a room just down the hall was Bolin, discussing his fate with his doctor. Mako and Korra wanted nothing more than burst in there and demand they heal Bolin. Asami, Opal and Kai on the other hand, understood the painful truth that he might not want to be healed. And that they didn't have a say in the matter. No matter who, they all felt like crying - even Lin seemed teary, if her puffy red eyes were anything to go on.

They couldn't hear what was being said; they'd thought asking Lin, but they knew she'd refused. People, especially those who were suffering, deserved their privacy. She could still feel the faint thrum of pacing and heartbeats. One she undeniably recognized, and she was demoralized that his usual booming voice had died down to a whisper on a breeze. She almost couldn't feel him if he didn't move. Bolin was becoming a ghost.

Just as the realization hit her, people noticed the door opening. They stopped themselves from rushing over, instead matching the doctor's rythm and met him and Bolin halfway. He looked like hell. Gaunt, pale, thinning hair and sunken, bloodshot eyes that were now dull more than anything.

"First session is in two days," he announced, his voice so hoarse he almost lost it.

Mako had stayed back, with the doctor. The others were going to a restaurant to spend some time together. All of a sudden they were a big family again.

He wanted some answers - after waiting and discovering what happened to his brother, he figured he deserved some - and the doctor was willing to provide some. "So what's the plan doc?"

"Your brother's lucky to have the AB+ blood type; it will help greatly for his transfusions."

"Transfusions? I thought... Cancer," he said the word with difficulty. "Was taken care of by chemotherapy?"

"Yes," he replied his voice strained. "And no. Leukemia is very peculiar; depending on its type certain treatments aren't advised. For your brother though, let me check..." He paused, looking at Bolin's file. He rifled through a few pages before humming in statisfaction. "Yes, that's right. Bolin has Acute Myeloid Leukemia. Fortunately it isn't chronic nor is it too late to be treated; that means chemo is viable, yes. We will also prescribe oral medication to supplement his treatments and prevent side-effects. How does your brother feel about needles?"

Confused by the apparent non-sequitur, Mako blurted out his reply. "Hates them, scared to death of them. Why?"

"He needs to be vaccinated."

Bolin spent most of the week sleeping. The doc had already warned him about the first chemo sessions. Because of the severity the sessions would be long and hard. Pills, IV's and the side effects were sure to make this worse before it became better. Now, he just wanted a respite from the pain; being unconscious afforded him that.

He couldn't even call it sleeping; he experienced no dreams and awoke unrested. In a conversation he did more listening - or appearing to listen - and replied monosyllabically or with few words. His fatigue seemed to stack up; he was so tired he could barely eat; the only certain he would willingly ingest were his pills, if that. It had become a source of concern; the portions he did eat were borderline baby-sized.

He didn't even eat Mako's dumplings; nor did he partake in Korra's food challenges; Opal tried taking him to picnics; Asami barely managed to get him to snack on meal substitutes. Even Lin had attempted to get him to eat, with mixed results. It ended up with the two of them exhausted, drinking tea and trying to hold a conversation. Then Pema got involved.

She had somehow managed to get Bolin to list something he would eat. Stewed sea-prunes, one of Korra's favourite dish. With the Avatar's help, Pema somehow managed to convince Bolin to eat more than a few spoonfuls of broth. It relieved the others, but doubt lingered in their minds. What if Bolin got sick of stew? Could Pema keep convincing him to eat, maybe more regularly? How could he actually like that stuff?

The others coordinated their activities around Bolin - which made him feel even more like shit - and took time every day or two to come visit their favourite earthbender. Some, especially Mako, would fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning, guarding Bolin. As if they could keep the sickness at bay.

He stared, as his hand slowly moved to his scalp. Gingerly taking hold, the pulling back softly, he saw a clump follow his hand. It felt damp and mushy, like seaweed mush almost.

An irritated bald spot was now on the side of his head, itching furiously. His other hand brushed the surrounding area, a reflex, and he watched as more hair fell from his scalp.

With watery eyes he watched himself literally falling to pieces. He grabbed the edge of the sink tightly, the hair in his hand not even falling off. The porcelain felt cool and hot against his bothered skin. The lights hurt his eyes, but he felt numb and cold inside.

"No," he sobbed, his voice cracked. He observed his reflection, a pathetic excuse of who he used to be; a disgrace, weak, that's how he felt.

He cried and stuffed himself between the sink and the bathtub. His head in between his knees, he hugged himself awkwardly and sobbed.

Everything crashed. He felt the weight of everything now, like an anvil dropped on his back; too much weight...

His sobs stuttered to a worrysome stop, replaced by hiccups as he grew angrier. What the hell had he done to deserve this; hadn't he done enough? Growling, he ripped out more of his hair. With each hoarse groan a chunk of hair fell to the floor. His eyes stung. His head hurt, now inside and out. The only thing keeping Bolin tethered here was the pain.

"I'm afraid he'll have to live at the hospital for the following weeks."

"He needs his family; we need him."

"He needs to live."

"I need to leave," he breathed out, the tube in his nose making it difficult for him to speak normally.

"Need or want?" Korra was keeping him company at the moment.

He gave her a meaningful look. "Need."

It was like throwing a rock through the window of her soul. Something inside was broken.

Mako waited patiently, his friends, family and even some fans were all in line waiting to give their own share of blood. It was his second donation in four days. He wished he could do more. Spirits, he'd drain himself dry if it meant he was doing more.

Korra had already assured him they were doing all they could; gathering donors and giving Bolin the blood he needed to survive this. Though the words felt hollow leaving her mouth. She had already given three litres in four days. She felt so powerless. Unlike any of the other evils they faced together, this one she couldn't fight against.

No one was making a sound; the only noise present being that of the equipment being used. An oppressive silence hung in the air as everyone waited anxiously for their turn to have blood drained from them. The people fidgeted and shuffled from one foot to another awkwardly.

They couldn't go visit the reason they were there in there in the first place. Bolin's visiting conditions had become almost exceedingly strict; only close friends or relatives, only a couple of hours a day. It was infuriating. They weren't allowed to bring food either, and Bolin had to be fed by IV - or a tube if his condition worsened.

Not that not visiting him affected Bolin much; he was barely awake maybe an hour at a time. The medications, the sessions and his illness were practically paralyzing him in a sense. He'd lost so much weight - weight he might not be able to completely regain - due to his inactivity and near malnutrition. He was as thin as an airbender now. Kai could probably lift Bolin now.

Opal had cried when she'd seen him. She cried and hugged him, telling him how brave he was, how much she loved him. How lucky she felt to have met him in the first place. If Bolin could've cried at that moment, he would have.

She'd recently brought him a head scarf; it ressembled desert headwear that you could wear as a scarf or to cover your head. He had smiled and managed to put it on without snagging on anything. He whispered a hoarse "thank you," the first words he'd said in days. Now it never left his head, or at least his side.

"C'mon kid," she implored in an unusually small voice. "If you can keep this down you'll be a step closer to remission."

He didn't even open his eyes; his face was barely in her direction. "Says who?" He asked detachedly.

"Says me, and the doctor. If not for yourself, then please kid for spirits' sake, eat. Even if it's just a bite."

That took him off guard. Lin didn't beg, nor did she ask, she commanded. He finally looked at her. He never would dare say it, but she reminded him of a mother. And she was directing that attention towards him. "Fine," he grumbled, with no actual fight in his voice.

She nodded sharply, as if she'd expected to be obeyed. She broke off a small part of an almond cookie - which she had baked, bonus - and handed it to him.

He ended up eating the entire cookie. "Mother hen," he teased with a smirk, his mouth still full.

He'd been eating a bit more every day or so; at first his meals equated to crackers and water. But steadily, over the course of the next weeks, he started eating more. Not just out of obligation; from time-to-time it wasn't uncommon to hear Bolin say "I'm hungry".

The girls had been spending most of their time with him. Asami spent some time helping him choosing wigs and accessories for his still bald head - Bolin swore he was going to grow a pony tail after all this. He'd been listening to probending matches with Korra, and she would sneak in food, or drawings and mementos from the airkids. Opal had been appreciative of the time she got to spend with her boyfriend who wasn't unconscious ornon-responsive most of the time.

Mako was walking towards his brother's room. He was bringning him a surprise. Their grandmother back in the Earth Kingdom had received Mako's letters; she answered his prayers and made Bolin a bandana in his favourite colours. It was an intricate pattern of blue, gold and green, woven together like then when they were at the top of the probending game.

He reached Bolin's door and pushed it open. The lights were off, but the grey skies lit the room with a blueish hue. There wasn't much noise; Bolin might've been taking a nap. An oversweet, rancid smell floated in the air. The smell of human waste. The noise was a heart monitor. It was flat-lining.

A/N: I'm working on the next chapters of "I Never Wanted This" as I'm writing this. Don't worry it'll be finished, I swear on it. This is just something to prove to you guys I'm still alive; I have a few more pieces that - after being edited - will be posted. If the next chapter of "I Never Wanted This" isn't uploaded soon, I'll put up my other pieces so you have something to look at.