Warmth.

Flickering in and out, splashing across clammy skin made cold by ocean waters. It was a familiar sensation, drawing back bittersweet memories of the frozen arctic, of a stern father and a growingly distant brother. Hints and suggestions of poorly veiled affection also arrived at the forefront of a slowly stirring mind, vision gradually coming into focus. The scene was set, a blazing fire kept fed by pieces of a former boat and twigs and branches from the land.
Wait… Land?

From curled up peacefully upon the soft sand of a foreign beach, former Councilman Tarrlok abruptly jerked up into a makeshift sitting position. Nearly toppling back over as pain erupted from the small of his back, more than likely damage taken from the explosion, he winced. His first reflex was to try and touch the injury to check that there was nothing broken, nothing terribly severe, though he was unable to feel any other part of his body injured to that extreme. Trying to reach up, he was only to find his hands had been immobilized. Biting into his wrists were thick, long leaves tied together like ropes, a clever usage of the native plant life upon what he assumed was an island. An island he certainly had never visited, by how desolate it looked to his foggy eyes.

"I see you are awake, brother."

Tensing, his mind, slowly coming into focus, put the puzzle pieces the moment he heard that familiar, deep voice. Reminded all too well of his earlier confinement, a memory too fresh for his liking, he carefully turned his head in case he also suffered injury to his skull. Precautions like this had to be taken after trying to kill oneself and their brother in a boat explosion. It seemed his luck was simply too poor for the plan to have had worked. His eyes honed in on the man he called 'big brother', his former idol, and the very villain he had sought to catch and eliminate until he had inevitably discovered his identity. And all it took was the loss of his bending.

"Noatak," Tarrlok greeted coolly in turn, testing the strength of his binds. Just as expected when it came to his all-too intelligent older brother, they were strong and sturdy. Even if he could break free, Noatak would be able to suppress him with his blood bending. He was surprised he even was still alive after the terrible deed he had committed. Or, at least tried to.

Recognizing the fact that his younger sibling desired to speak no further, looking just as ruffled as his hair, messed from all of the fighting from its neat braids and plastered to his skin with salt water, Noatak smirked. While scuffed and bruised, also withholding a minor concussion, he felt that he was still in mint condition. His body was strong, trained to endure the worst of times, and this had certainly been a doozy. Tucking another broken twig into the fire, which gobbled it up greedily, Noatak chuckled as Tarrlok merely simmered.
"That had certainly been a close one, eh? It had been foolish of me to suppose it alright to leave those gloves on board, especially after our little… Disagreement."
Remembering the painful process of losing his bending, the lack of power and the utter hopelessness that had plagued his being like a disease, Tarrlok gritted his teeth and averted his eyes from Noatak. Noatak sighed, shaking his head while clucking his tongue in scolding.

"Tsk, tsk, Tarrlok. I extend my hand in kindness and you blow up our boat. It is sheer luck that we are alive. And you should be grateful that you survived."

Tarrlok grimaced, turning his face from Noatak in disdain, no longer cloaked by a visage void of emotion. "If it hadn't been for your insane ideals, then we wouldn't be here. You are too much like father," muttered Tarrlok in bitter confession, only to tense when catching a glimpse of Noatak's expression molding into a look of fury.
"Don't compare him to me! I am nothing like that scoundrel, that rat!"
The words were sharp and cutting, the underlying pain taking Tarrlok aback and he felt the compassion he always felt towards his brother shift towards the surface. Face darkening, he continued to hold it downcast, not wanting to meet Noatak's eyes so full of rage.
"… My apologies."

Tense and angry, Noatak slowly managed to relax himself, settling back from his partly risen position. Simmering, he glowered into the flames, the two brothers lost in their silence. From a cool-toned, one way conversation, their differences had been made clear, the siblings no longer as close as they had been as children. That had been identified well enough.
Finally, his melodramatic sigh piercing the thick silence that coated them in a heavy blanket, Noatak brushed his brunette hair from his eyes, clumped slightly together with seawater, pursing his lips.
"I do not know of our location, if you happen to be wondering," stated Noatak in a very professional tone in efforts to speak beyond their shared blood, but rather as two men lost on some foreign island. "I explored some while you were unconscious and while it had still been remotely light out, but it would so appear we lack any other company. A pity, too, considering the medical assistance would be much appreciated."

Glancing up to the dark, starry sky, Noatak absently massaged his sore left bicep, the arm that had been hugging Tarrlok's body close to him when he had brought them both to shore. Silent again, it was left that way, Noatak finding there to be nothing else to report as he instead focused on calculating how long it would take for the both of them to recover and how long it would take to get off the island. Tarrlok. On the other hand, wondered for how much longer the spirits would force him to endure his brother's company. It was if they knew of his love for him, the brotherly affection that had remained throughout the years despite the other man's blatant flaws. It was something he loathed now, now that he knew exactly what Noatak was.

He was the exact replica of their father, driven by different motives but all too the same. He desired revenge against benders for what he had been forced to endure, ignoring his own capabilities to instead hone a lifestyle of non-bending. Within his mind benders had obtained an aura of evil, all because of the training their father made them do. The trials, the torment, the abuse. It had broken Noatak.
Tarrlok hadn't realized how much it had caused Noatak to snap until now, how much damage had really been done since the day he had initially run away. The day they had been told to bloodbend each other, only for Noatak to turn upon their father in rage.
It was a feeling he did not want to discover again, kin to the sensation of losing his bending. It was a pain he found nearly unbearable; death would be better. And all those people they had used this curse upon, their curse…
Tarrlok closed his eyes as though to try and block out the memory of the faces of those he had used his power against, the agony and the sheer terror. He was almost glad Noatak had removed his bending from him. Now, if his anger got the best of him, all he could do was raise a clenched fist. Even that was better than to feel one's very body turn against them.

"Tarrlok. You are thinking too much, it is late. Go to sleep."
The soothing murmur took him off guard, eyes snapping back open to see Noatak curled up upon the soft sand, head propped up on his arm, which was being utilized as a makeshift pillow. One eye open and the other closed; even with his gaze partly diminished it was still like he could view into his very mind. Tarrlok felt exposed, naked despite the damp clothes that were conformed to his muscular body under the scrutinizing gaze of Noatak. Rather than vocalize his discomfort, Tarrlok merely turned his gaze away, lay back down, and tried his best to sleep.

-x-

While it had been difficult to initially doze, once sleep overtook Tarrlok's mind, it was there to stay for the rest of the night. Such bliss was not available to Noatak, who instead found himself restless and constantly pacing about their temporary campsite, if it could even be called such, as he thought over how they would escape. More so, he thought of what he would do with Tarrlok. His love for his brother went beyond needing to be said, but he was paranoid that the former waterbender would attempt to kill them both again. Kin or not, he seemed set on not letting Noatak freely leave and start a new life. It was reasonable. With violence in his very blood, Noatak could not resist the teachings of their father. The desire for revenge.

Pausing, his thoughts forcing themselves away from recollection of Yakone, he instead directed his attention upon Tarrlok. As he anticipated, the younger was sound asleep, though quaking faintly from the cold. Island or not, this place lacked an exotic warmth that would have been appreciated after being dumped into the freezing ocean. And as he peered in closer, Noatak thought he saw a pink tint to Tarrlok's cheeks. That was not good.

Footsteps soft as to not disturb the other's much-needed rest, he crouched, gently touching the back of his palm to the other's partly exposed forehead, Tarrlok having managed to tuck his head against his chest to get comfortable. Noatak grimaced as he found the result he had expected but had hoped wouldn't turn out to be true. Tarrlok was burning up, flesh high in temperature with a raging fever. He had his fears that their dip in the ocean had done even more harm than just nearly drowning them, and now they had been confirmed.

Sighing, he fully sat as he pondered what actions would have to be taken, hand lingering absently upon Tarrlok's cheek. The younger didn't seem to mind in his sleep, hardly even noticing Noatak's presence.

With their lack of medical supplies and Noatak's inability to heal with the water presented, or any water at all, they were certainly in quite the pickle. He was certainly more of a fighter than a healer, his knowledge incredibly basic. It was an amazing feat that he had survived running away from his brother and father all those years ago. Now here he was, stuck with Tarrlok who had taken fever, both injured, and trapped upon this island with no help on the horizon and no ability to get off. Remembering his hand and where it lay, he was prompt to retrieve it, trying to brush aside how long he had allowed it to remain so close to Tarrlok by running his fingers through his hair in efforts to comb it free of knots and tangles.

"We'll figure something out," he decided in a murmur as he daintily removed his Equalist coat, trying not to disturb his injuries that still screamed in protest at even the slightest removal of the article of clothing. The shirt beneath clung to his skin due to sweat and saltwater, though it wasn't noticed as he draped his coat over Tarrlok in efforts to better ward off the chill of the night.

Standing, Noatak hesitated to observe his brother's rest for a moment longer, turning to head deep into the tangle of jungle that covered the island they were situated upon as to search for more firewood. They would certainly need whatever warmth they could gather, until Noatak could figure out some kind of escape.
If it was even possible.

Author's Note;;

By my own mental encouragement and the ushering of others, I've decided to continue this fic. It'll probably only be three or four chapters depending on my muse, because how in the world can I leave this fic off on such a wavering note? More than likely this'll turn into something fluffy/angst filled, considering we all love that stuff. Maybe into something more. I do enjoy myself some romance, but we will have to see.

Thank you to those who have reviewed, offered criticism, and have favorited and followed this story! You guys are really helping me into stirring the motivation to write this to life, and I truly thank you for that.