Day 1: Spirit World

A startled, shuddering gasp splits the silence.

A man, dark-skinned and powerfully built, thrashes in a pool of stagnant water. When he manages to find his feet, it is all he can do to stay on them. The world is shrouded in mist, creeping tendrils that snake across the turbulent surface of the shallow pond with a motion that conveys malice…darkness…a sharpness that anything born of water should not possess.

It frightens him.

But he is Noatak, the son of a notorious criminal, and he is Amon, the leader of the most successful anti-bender revolution to ever exist. He will not be frightened by some fog.

He gathers himself up, preparing to walk off and find out exactly where he is. The last he remembered, he was flying across Yue Bay in a speedboat with his brother. Then…nothing. There is a gap in his memory, between escaping and waking up here. Alone. Without his brother, though that does not bother him overmuch. His brother is still capable of betrayal. Come to think of it, Tarrlok probably drugged him and left him here in this…swamp. It explains the fantastical lights he watched burst before his eyes, the harsh qualities of the mist here, and…the light…the light suddenly appearing between his feet.

He staggers back, unsettled by this glow. It reminds him of a history lesson on the Siege of the North Pole, and how the Avatar embodied the Ocean Spirit La to destroy the invading Fire Nation troops. It was said that the water glowed extraordinarily blue, darker in some places, nearly white in others. It is how the water looks now: a single beam of light that reaches to the sky, seeming to extinguish all other illumination, shining brighter with every passing second. The liquid around the shaft of light starts to churn right before his eyes, forming a whirlpool that drags him closer, closer, with no intent on letting go.

It is now that Noatak remembers he is a waterbender, that he can manipulate the element that seems intent on bending him to its will. With an arrogant smile on his lips, he raises his arms and gracefully pushes against the air, expecting to be thrust backwards out of the roiling surf. It does not work.

Instead, he remains where he is, trapped by waves that are beginning to crash over his head, drenching him to the bone. His resolve breaks; there is something entirely unnatural about this whole place, and it makes him uneasy in the extreme. "Who's there?" he roars, tossing his head back and forth, trying to find the source of this bizarre spectacle.

Almost as if in response, the light pulses once and bursts, countless shards of light flying through the humid air. He throws an arm across his face and shouts as vision is streaked with white. When he has regained his sight, he sees that the mist has dissipated and the light has returned. Gnarled trees ring the small lake, their branches draped with gauzy curtains of moss. They are too densely packed for him to see very far, but it makes little difference to him. For at the far end of the lake, there stands a man that seems all too familiar.

A surprised cry passes Noatak's lips, and he surges through the water to the opposite shore. Never before has he been so elated to see the Lieutenant, for it is, without a doubt, the Lieutenant that is in the clearing as well. Noatak knows those long, slender limbs anywhere, knows that narrow face and shock of black hair.

"Rai!" he shouts, all official pretense and formalities long gone. The brief time he has spent in this place has been enough to make him reckless. He stumbles up the sandy bank to stand before the other man. "Rai, where in the name of the spirits are we?"

But the Lieutenant does not respond. Noatak clears his throat and straightens, adopting the figure of a man in command. "My apologies, Lieutenant. This swamp seems to have gotten the best of me. No matter; I have composed myself. Now, where are we? I believe my brother has drugged me and placed me here, wherever this is." He looks expectantly at the Lieutenant, waiting for the answer the Lieutenant is sure to readily provide. Still, not a word is spoken. In fact, the other man never blinks, never turns to look at Noatak. Uncertainty settles cold and hard in Noatak's stomach, and he stretches out a hand.

It passes straight through the Lieutenant's body.

A voice booms out then, loud yet soft at the same time. It is whispery, like wind over ice, but also deafening like snow thundering down a mountainside. "He cannot hear you, O Corrupted One. He cannot see you or feel you. Indeed, he does not know you are here."

Noatak's anger makes him bold. "And where is here, coward? Show yourself!"

"I am here," the voice responds. "All around you, in the trees, in the water, in the very air you breathe. As for where you are, is it not obvious? You are in the Spirit World, Corrupted One. You are dead, just as he is."

"And why should I believe you?" Noatak snarls, scanning the clearing for the source of the voice. He strives to maintain a semblance of self-confidence while his heart beats rapidly against his ribs. Something in the voice's words resonate deeply within him, though he tries to deny it. He cannot be dead. His Lieutenant cannot be dead either. Simply impossible.

The voice sighs, a sound like the hiss of the tide. "You know it to be true; I can feel your growing awareness. Your brother destroyed your boat, killing both you and himself. He thought it noble, considering all he and you had done. We thought it noble as well, and he rests peacefully now. But you, Corrupted One, you were not received well. Even the less benevolent of us were angered. You played spirit when it was not your place. For this, you must pay."

A rising sense of terror incapacitates the Water Tribe man. He is dead. His brother is dead. His Lieutenant is…

"Dead, too," the voice agrees. "Hung himself from the scaffolding of a warehouse."

A sudden influx of thoughts and feelings and memories washes over Noatak. Yearning, betrayal, pains both physical and emotional. Days hiding indoors, evenings speaking to crowds of hundreds, nights spent between the sheets. It's almost too much. Then the one voice he longs to hear cuts easily through the cacophony.

"I dedicated my life to you."

Noatak's blood runs cold as those words reverberate through his mind. They echo until nothing else is left, leaving him frozen, without control over his own body or mind. The moment passes with the sharp jerk of a rope made taut.

He falls to his knees, blinded by tears, choked by anger, numb with guilt.

"This shall be your punishment, Corrupted One. You shall relive the final moments of your one friend's life until we have deemed you worthy of reprieve. For the time being, know that you shall not be granted contact with this man. He was tainted by you, just as you tainted the sacred art of waterbending. So it is spoken, so shall it be." The voice fades into silence, leaving Noatak a huddled mass on the ground.

He crawls forwards, laying himself at the feet of his partner, his friend, his lover. He should have known better than to become attached. He should have never met this man, never gotten close, never fallen in—

Noatak howls, pounds his fist on the sand. "I'm sorry!" he sobs, feeling his heart wrench and his gut twist. Guilt. So much guilt. It shreds through his core, makes him regret everything, even though he swore he never would. "I did this to you! Me! I killed you, Rai! I killed you, but I loved you! You have to believe me, please! I loved-"

"I dedicated my life to you."

Rai is Japanese for "a trusting man; lightening or thunder"...how perfect for our Lieutenant?

-x-

A/N: And thus begins the second Lieumon Week... My sincerest apologies if it's just plain awful. This is my first official "Week" of anything, so...we'll see how it goes :)

I'd love a reviewwwww ;)