Light streamed in through the sole window of the cramped room, shining onto Mako's hospital bed. His torn-up jacket hung on a coat rack above the nightstand, while his father's pristine scarf was dumped onto the floor. The youth sat upright in nearly the same position he'd spent the night. The door opposite the window opened, and neither Mako nor the entering nurse acknowledged each other's presence.
Mako felt like he was in a trance. All he could think to do was not think. Somewhere in the fog of his mind he knew that if he tried to recall anything of last night, of himself, of comfort, he would break.
So he sat in a sort of meditative state all night, only looking up at the nurses, waterbender healers, and doctors that visited him. Any question sent fear down his spine because if he had to answer he had to think, and if he had to think he had to recall what had happened, what he was, what he had lost; and if he did that he would break.
So he retreated further into himself with each inquiry, and luckily those who worked on him caught on. They quickly substituted, "Would you like some water?" and, "Does this hurt?" with, "I'm getting you some water," and, "This probably hurts." Any other question they might've had they kept to themselves, and Mako was grateful for their understanding.
That night, as workers crowded around him and carefully looked him over, Mako's mind was as blank as a sheet. As time passed, however, his memory became clearer. Now, almost twelve hours after his arrival at the hospital, blurry images were flooding his head. A bright fire. Red, everywhere. Thick, suffocating clouds of smoke. Sounds, too, were chiming through his mind. A low, grumbling laugh. Thuds of feet on pavement. but the one thing Mako heard the clearest was his mother's terrified, agonizing scream.
The nurse, who had been shifting supplies around in a cabinet adjacent to the door, finally spoke. "There's a metalbending police officer outside. She wants to talk to you. She's coming in now."
With that, the long-haired nurse cracked open the door and allowed the woman in.
The metalbender who entered was foreboding and severe-looking. Her dark hair was pulled behind her head, and Mako saw that she sported two long scars on her right cheek. Her harsh facade, however, faded as she addressed the boy.
"Hello, Mako. How are your injuries?" Mako simply stared, eyes dry and empty.
The nurse answered for him: "He should be alright. Only had a few minor cuts and bruises- healers took care of that easily. His wrist might be sprained, but otherwise he'll be fine."
"Has he been this quiet all night?"
"I told you, he won't be good for answering anything; he's in shock."
Letting out a frustrated puff of air, the woman turned towards Mako again. "Your brother is just outside. Would you like to see him?"
His brother. For the first time in the-twelve-hours-that-felt-like-forever, Mako allowed himself to remember that, yes, he had a brother, and his name was-
"Bolin?" Mako croaked. The woman gave a small smile and a quick nod, then gestured towards the door expectantly.
Mako didn't allow or refuse her to let his brother in, but she seemed to have decided for him as she opened the door and called for Bolin, who came sprinting into the room faster than a startled rabaroo.
"Mako!" blubbered the boy as he flung himself into his brother's arms, backpack swinging violently behind his shoulders, "Mako, what happened? Why are you here? Are you hurt? Th-they say," he stifled a sob, "they say mom and d-dad are..." He trailed off, giving his brother an even tighter hug.
Mako was momentarily frozen. He wanted to reassure his little brother, but this sudden influx of questions was helping to flesh out the memories he'd been trying so hard to suppress.
He had ran; after a weak request from his mother and a desperate order from his father he had ran, heart pounding and eyes streaming, away from the site of danger. He made it several blocks before, while rounding a tight corner, he slipped off the curb and onto the pavement. He tried to stop himself with his right hand, only to land on it hard and then skid several feet on his side.
A cop saw him fall and asked if he was hurt, to which the panicked boy instead screamed that his parents needed help, pointing wildly in their direction. The man ran off, likely discovered the gruesome scene, and called for his colleagues, one of which carried a cut-up and confused Mako into the nearby hospital.
Once inside, Mako began to trace back in his memories what had just transpired: a pleasant walk interrupted by a stranger; a brief exchange between this man and Mako's father; the man suddenly hurling a fireball on a path to his mother's face...
Mako shook all over as these emerged and, afraid of worrying his brother, pulled away from the embrace. He looked Bolin in the eyes and said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, "It's okay. I'm alright, Bo."
Apparently he didn't sound very convincing, as Bolin's brow furrowed and concern shrouded his face with his older brother's words. Mako looked at his hands, eyes taking on the same vacant stare of a few minutes ago.
The metalbender watched them solemnly for a few moments before reverting back to the stoic no-nonsense woman who had entered. "I came to ask you some questions," she began, "I don't like to ask this of a child, and I'll understand if you can't answer them, but they're very important to our investigation, so please try your best to help us."
Questions. Mako gulped. His gaze met with the woman's and he tried to tell her to leave right now with his eyes. It was to no avail.
"Can you describe the attributes of your parents' attacker? That is: what did he look like?"
Mako stared blankly. All he could remember was the stranger's throaty voice and rough hand as a hot a deadly flame hovered over it.
"I didn't get a clear look at him," Mako was able to respond.
"Was there more than one mugger?"
"No."
"And he was definitely after your parents?"
Mako started. It hadn't occurred to him what the assailant's motive for attacking them was. He knew his father and the man exchanged words before their scuffle, but he couldn't recall what they had said. He was certain he wasn't repressing this information; fear and a quickening heartbeat had kept him from concentrating on their words during the event.
Now, Mako's mind decided to barrage him with an array of new questions. Did the man know his father? What was their argument about? Was it simply a robbery? Was he just after murder?
Was he just after Mako?
Again, a shiver down his spine told Mako to look down, shut up, and think of anything - anything - else. He decided to count the tiles on the floor.
The policewoman let out a sigh and held the back of her neck in her palm. The rest of her conversation was directed towards the nurse.
"Do they have anywhere to go?" she spoke in a low voice.
The nurse raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it your job to find that stuff out?"
"Some boys back at base have been trying to locate existing family members, but it seems like there aren't any, at least none willing to take two young benders in. You sure no one's contacted you asking for them?"
"None. We've already called a facility to take them in."
It was now the policewoman's turn to look skeptical. "Isn't it my job to put that stuff together?"
A grim smirk played on the nurse's lips. "Well, you're clearly not doing your job," she lost her smile as she deadpanned, "We don't have enough space and he's not even hurt, really. We need to make room for other patients."
"I can't allow you to send them off," the metalbender's voice had risen as she folded her arms, a scowl forming on her face.
"Then find a guardian before tomorrow morning. Otherwise, an orphanage supervisor will be here to collect them."
The cop, fuming beneath her skin, gave the other a curt nod and spun towards the door. Giving the boys only a somber glance behind her, she exited the room. The nurse followed shortly, and the brothers were left alone.
They sat quietly, both not wanting to bring up what the conversation the two woman just had meant for them. Mako intently watched a beetle crawl along the floor for several minutes, and would've for several more, if Bolin hadn't jabbed him with his foot.
"Um," Bolin began, "I-I brought a game with me. And some turkeyduck jerky." He flopped his bag onto the bed and began fumbling with the clasps. He pulled out a travel size game of Pai Sho, which neither of them really knew how to play but always attempted, usually resorting to making up several rules.
When Bolin began to set up the board, Mako started getting agitated. He couldn't figure out why, while being handed food and game pieces, his heart ached and he wanted to scream or fling himself into his brother's arms. It wasn't until Bolin looked up and gave him a small smile that he understood.
His brother was trying desperately to keep it together, but, more than that, he was trying to reassure and comfort Mako.
The way their father did. The way their mother did.
The way Mako, as the big brother, should have been doing for Bolin.
It was getting cold by the time Mako's parents came to pick him up. His father saw the boy shivering, unraveled the scarf around his own neck and gave it to his son. They went on their way, only to be confronted by a hostile stranger with a gravely voice. As the two men conversed, Mako's mother stepped in front of her son, shielding him from their harsh words.
Suddenly a fireball shot towards her. It engulfed the left side of her face, neck, and shoulder, and she screamed the most terrifying scream Mako had ever heard. She collapsed.
Mako was immediately at her side as she clutched her face and sobbed into the ground. It took a few moments for him to register that his father had thrown himself at the man and was wrestled to a wall. Even before the mugger brought down a fist full of flames to his father's stomach Mako knew who would win.
His mother was still sobbing helplessly into the pavement as Mako cried for someone, anyone, to help. He heard her choke out a, "Run," directed at him, but his legs didn't move until his father repeated the command at a higher volume. Them Mako took off, his father's screams of agony dying out as he raced away.
What had disturbed Mako the most during this whole ordeal was how his parents, his protectors, the ones he could always rely on, who took care of him, were unable to stop anything. In that moment, his parents were the children, the ones needing protection, someone to rely on, someone to take care of them.
And it scared Mako to death.
To see his mother, utterly helpless and in pain, crying in desperation - that image bore into Mako's brain as he looked toward his brother. His little brother: the one who should have protection, someone to rely on, someone to take care of him. Bolin was watching his older brother take on the same role reversal their parents experienced just hours ago.
Mako looked down, trying desperately not to cry. But he knew it was useless. Tears rolled down his cheeks and onto the bedsheet. Each sob wracked throughout his body. Bolin moved forward, their game forgotten, and embraced his brother.
Each tear signified a different feeling for Mako. Guilt, for not being strong for Bolin. Grief, for his parents, for their situation, for himself. And finally, an overwhelming sense of relief that there was still someone looking out for him.
The two sat there for some time. Finally Mako was able to speak, in a voice still thick with emotion, "I'm sorry, Bo."
Bolin pulled away, wiping his own tears from his face. He looked like had composed himself, but when he began to speak again his voice broke, and he fell into his brother's arms once more.
"You won't ever leave me, will you?"
It was a cruel question to ask: Mako now knew all too well how easily that sort of promise could be broken.
But he understood that if he was to be the protector, the caretaker, the one relied on, he'd have to make those sort of promises often.
So he answered without hesitation, "Never."