Coffee was a new habit to Bolin, and for most of his life, was a luxury that he couldn't afford. During his short-lived rise to stardom, however, his tight hours had been salvaged by gulping down the bitter stuff with about as much sugar as he could manage. (Just because he was half Fire Nation, did not mean he rose with the sun)

And with his new abilities, he found himself doing anything to put the horrors at bay. Try as he might, he was doing everything in his will power not to go back to smoking- because that would mean letting them win, and also because he really couldn't stand the disappointment and pity in Mako's eyes with having to go another day inhaling three of those things just to get by.

Liquor, however, was another story.

This was because, the coffee was counter effective. He'd become so tired from trying to push the ghosts and visions away, which in turn made them more angry and the head aches worse. The head aches made him want to lie down in bed, but sleeping was the worst part. His sleeping mind had no say in what it saw, what horrors plagued it. It was like an open door for the Abdicator to get to and manipulate-and the Spirits knew he'd always been a sleepwalker.

He'd drink coffee to stay awake and be hipped up in a freak-free high; lifting weights or bathing Pabu to pass the time. Somewhere in those late hours of the night, the effects would wear off-and of course he couldn't afford a coffee maker, and of course no one gave a crap if you walk into their dinner at one in the morning and want coffee, because coffee was for five through ten a.m. didn't your parents teach you anything? You want to buy something, kid, buy a meal 'cause we ain't selling damn coffee at this hour.

Bolin gripped the dingy bar table with white knuckles and gave the man the sweetest smile he could muster.

"Well, then," his fingers twitched, he peeked through the hood covering the better part of his face , "How 'bout a Tequila?"

A fat guy listening to the radio on the stool to the left whistled at his request and gave a pitiful chuckle. Bolin glared at him. He flinched, took a swig of his drink, and turned back to the radio.

The barkeeper rose a hairy brow. "How old are ya, kid?"

"Old enough to know there's about two other bars on this block that'll give me better service for half the price."

Which wasn't exactly true, however, this one was the closest to his apartment, and he'd been forced to learn all the exits at an early age. The Triple Threats had taken Mako and him here when they were about eleven and thirteen, as a sort of celebration after a turf war victory. He'd had his fist drink here, given to him by Viper when Mako had to leave early on a number run- a 'Stormy Dragon'.

(There'd been a lot of sugar in it, and he'd thrown it up later, but still)

Now, Bolin meticulously waved out a few yuans while making to leave, making sure the bills caught the barkeep's eye.

"Err-wait!"

Bolin smiled wanly; like giving candy to a baby. He twisted his neck around. "Hmm?"

"I, um," the man cleared his throat, and flicked his apron off the hook, "I don't suppose it's too late for a Tequila."

Bolin lips pulled up, "Better make it a double, boss," he pushed the bills across the table. "My friends ain't very nice to me when I'm sober."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked. The glasses clanked together on the bar. A group of men cheered at the other end, hearing something announced in what sounded like Shiro Shonabi's voice. "And why's that, kid?" He poured in the ice, mixed the two beverages together, and shook it. When ready, it was promptly slid across the smooth surface into Bolin's waiting hands.

"Probably because I got them all killed." Bolin said, a bit too nonchalantly, and took a big swig, and smacked his lips.

The barkeep froze, mouth hanging open in stupefaction. The amber in them got really big, and for a moment he just looked at the earthbender. Bolin bit off the cherry on the top of the glass, and spit out the stem.

The man began to laugh nervously, and Bolin joined in. The laughter rose higher and breathy. Bolin laughed louder, banging his fist on the table like it was the funniest thing in the world. Other men and women in the bar turned to look at them, shrugged, then turned back.

Bolin coughed twice, then cleared his throat.

"You got a ciggy?" he croaked.

"A what?"

"A cigarette, man. Do you have a damn cigarette?"

The barkeep shook his head. "I aint a smoker." He whipped his head with a cloth. "You shouldn't- bad habit." He bent under the table and retrieved a bag of frozen vegetables.

Bolin eyed him. "Says the man behind the bar with the liquor license."

"Touché, kid."

Bolin drained his glass. An instant grimace spread across his face.

"Better hit me again, boss." he slapped his hand on the table. "They're watchin' me everywhere tonight. S'gonna be a long one."


After that barkeep went home around two in the morning, another one came in for the next shift. By that time Bolin had had another- or five- more drinks, and decided he was drunk enough to go back to his empty apartment with the last of his pride.

The pay phone was cold and metallic as it burned into the symbols on his hands, and his fuzzy brain fought to remember the number correctly. He got it right on the third try.

"Hello?"

He froze. As he was struggling to rub two alcohol-impaired neurons together, the voice stoke up again. "Look, whoever this is, I can hear you breathing. So if this is some kind of joke-"

"Asami."

She went silent for a moment. Probably due to the fact that he'd been avoiding all of them, and hadn't spoken to her since that horrible day at the gas station three weeks ago when she'd been nearly buried alive.

And in turn he'd lost control of his power and killed one of the guys and put Mako in a coma. Actually, if he was being technical, he had last seen her at his trial three days ago, but had tried to avoid everyone's gaze at that point. So he guessed that he was the last person she wanted to hear from right now.

That, and being that it was sometime after two in the morning.

Shit.

"H-hello?" he cleared his throat. "S'me."

"Bo? Is-is that you?" her voice got high, "Are you alright?"

"Yesh. Yesh. Nhooo." his lips got all slurry again.

"Are you drunk?"

" Kinda."

A sigh. She replied instantly, "Where are you? I'll come pick you up."

He knew the bar was in walking distance from his house, but left was looking sorta like right at the moment, and fuck he really just needed to talk to one of his friends. If they still considered him a friend.

"...Bo?"

He blinked and shook his head. "The phone boof outsida Bagermole Taverrrrn."

"Right. Okay. Wow. Bolin, that's four boroughs from your place. The trolleys don't run through there this late. How'd you get over there?"

"'s not far. 's right across the street, miss." He stated.

She sighed. "Right. Bolin, just stay put. Wait inside; I'll be right over."

"'kay. And-'sami?"

"Yeah, Bolin?"

"'re we still friends?"

"Bo...I-you...Of course we're still friends..."

He leaned heavily on the wall of the phone booth. "Ghood, 'cause I like friends that' re alive bettah."

He heard her swallow thickly.

"...'sami? You still therrrre?"

"Yeah, Bo. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, don't you worry."


"You really had seven Tequila's?" was her question, an hour later once they had reached his apartment, and she was fumbling with his lock.

Bolin smirked despite himself. "Whelp , my or-" he hiccupped,"orighinalll ghoal was,",hiccup," was eleven, but the new bartender was pissy, and kicked me out when I broke the stoohl- so yepppppp..."

Asami just shook her head, and he allowed her to drag him into his place. Bolin plopped down heavily on the couch, with a groan. She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, seemingly lost in thought. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Bolin watched as she went into his pantry, and poured him a glass of water.

She put the cup on the table next to him, clarifying him after he eyed it questioningly. "You need to hydrate. You're gonna have a hell of a headache in the morning."

He snorted and rolled over, placing the pillow on his face. "Nothing I ain't used to, darlin'."

With that said, the silence lingered once more.

"Bo," she finally said despite her better judgment. Having an intervention while drunk sounded counter-productive in the least, and not bound to be very motivational. But she was here, Asami thought, she had Bolin here by herself. She might as well address the elephant-goat in the room while there was still a room at all.

"Hmm?" he lifted the pillow up an inch, showing one of his eyes( his very tired-looking, and slightly bloodshot) eyes.

Asami leaned against the counter and blew a puff of air out of her lips, with a pop. "How are you? I mean, how are you doing, handling all of this?" She winced at her words.

Bolin lay still for a moment, just staring at the pillow he was holding above his face, with thin lips as if it was the reason for all his pain lately. Then he tossed it across the room where it landed on the floor by Pabu with a thud.

"I'm doing fine," was the response that left his lips, but even Pabu could tell that the words held no life.

"Bolin..."

She stepped closer, and attempted to place a hand on his shoulder, but he rolled back over and faced the wall.

"Really, Asami. I am. Don't worry about me."

"Really."

"Yes, really."

"Well," she replied with a set face, "that's a pretty sure answer for someone I had to pick up at two in the morning after an attempted eleven tequila's. And after I had to calm you down when you started talking to someone named Ta Gee, telling to him 'shut up' that it 'wasn't your fault' and then proceeded to jump out of the car once we stopped at the light." Bolin flinched. Asami could see the muscles in his neck tighten.

"Wanna tell me what that was about?" she said, a bit forcefully, but not without sympathy.

Bolin's face scrunched up real tight, and he made a noise that did not sound very pleasant.

"Bo?" she said. "What's-

"'m fine," he pushed away the hands that tried to comfort him. His words came out like a choke. "I think-you should go- now. It's," he swallowed, and brought his firsts up to his ears, "G-getting late."

"No, you need help. Just tell me what's-"

"I'm-fine. Asami." he said through gritted teeth. He stumbled up off the couch, and passed her. He went into the bathroom and leaned against the shower door, holding his head, while taking uneven gasping breaths that made him sound like he was having an asthma attack.

"Fine?" she exclaimed, following right after him, "'Fine' doesn't mean you keep mumbling to your ghosts and-"

"-They're not my ghosts!-" he snapped.

"-yourself the whole car ride home saying 'I'm not Number Twelve, I'm not Number Twelve, I'm not Number Twelve!'!" Bolin glared at her, cursing under his breath.

"'Fine' doesn't mean you jump out of my car," she got right in his face now, eyes burning,"and start running down the street saying that 'you have to stop him'!" she exclaimed.

"Shut up, Asami."

"-But of course you don't remember that!"

Bolin actually shoved her away. She stumbled a bit, before her elbow jammed into the sink.

"What the hell-"

"Fuck!" he yelled, "Shit, Asami, what the hell to you want from me?!" His pupils had turned to slits and his temple was now damp with sweat. "What the fuck do you-"

"-I want you to talk to me, damn it!" she yelled back, and Bolin blinked at her. "To any of us! Instead of avoiding us like you'd been for the passed three weeks, hiding in your apartment with this-this 'I'm fine' bullshit!"

"What do want me to say? That it's not fucking hard? That it's 'getting better with time'? Cause it's getting fucking worse! And the whole city sees me as a murderer and a freak." he retorted. "How about this; I don't feel like a total piece of shit, and I didn't try to kill myself last night with a knife that is not in this top drawer!" he gruffly tugged open the drawer to show the shiny razer-tipped knife nuzzled next to a pill bottle.

Asami was looking at him with a pitiful expression, not knowing if she should go touch him, or just let him rant.

"So you can yell at me all you want." he muttered, "It's not gonna change anything. I don't care anymore, Asami, okay?"

That last statement fueled her resolve. She was across the small bathroom, and putting her hands on his cheeks. "I care, Bo." she said forcefully, looking him right in the eyes, "We all care." He scoffed, and she shook him until he met her gaze once more. "Hey. Look at me. Don't fucking shut us out like this. Please. At least care enough about us."

Bolin turned away from her, his fists rock-tight at his sides. He rubbed his eyes, and gave a sigh that was so weary, Asami could practically see his energy draining with it.

After a moment of putting herself back together, she spoke up once more.

"Do you know how heartbroken Korra is?" Asami asked. He looked at her again.

"Korra?" He shook his head. "No. She had no reason to-"

"-Well she does, you idiot! She's the Avatar; she blames this whole Spirit mess on herself! She says you hate her now because she called you a horrible name-"

"-Monster."

"...What?" Asami looked at him.

Bolin erupted. "She called me a fucking monster, alright!?" Asami's mouth dropped open. Bolin's shoulders sagged, all the anger out of him. He braced his grip on the door handle. The symbols left a parallel marking on the door; singing, then dimming down. "She called me a monster." he whispered. "You were unconscious, the basterd was dead, everyone else was out." he swallowed thickly. "Mako had called out to me-I heard him call my name- but I just...I just couldn't fucking stop, Asami-"

"Bolin..."

"Mako was trying to snap me out of it; he was the only one who didn't look afraid. Korra looked horrified." his eyes shut tight again, and his mouth kept twitching like he was forcing himself to stay together. "I made Mako go down, and- he screamed so loud, it looked so painful. There was blood coming out of his ears and eyes, Asami. I did that." He finally met her gaze, and saw to his astonishment that she was crying.

"I think that's what got me to stop; Mako in pain, even though it was my fault. On some subconscious level, it snapped me out of it. But-apparently that means nothing to our dear Avatar." he sneered,"She looked like she would've burnt my face off at that point."

"She didn't mean it, Bolin. She wasn't thinking-"

"-Of course she was. She wouldn't have said it if she didn't mean it." He slid down the wall until he was on the floor.

"People say and do things that they don't mean when they're upset, Bolin." She was sitting next to him now, and either he didn't have the energy to push her away, or he just didn't care now.

"I thought you were dead." he tells her.

A lump forms in her throat. "I know. I thought I was, too." It isn't a new feeling to her, this blame that this was all her fault. That that whole horrible day could have been avoided if she hadn't been so careless. It had been her car that had gotten stuck, her big mouth and ego that had egged the thugs on.

Her life in danger that had fueled Bolin.

And sometimes in the dead of night, it keeps her awake knowing that she was important enough to someone- to Bolin- to let his power out. The practical part of her says that he'd do the same for the others, but the other part can't help but notice-more and more recently- how green his eyes are. The sweetness in his smile, the joy in his laugh. How strong and amiable his hands are when helping her up after a fall. She remembers how on bad days during her failing business, he'd take her out to lunch, or she'd come back from a stressful meeting, and her favorite dish would be left waiting on her desk, a silly little note scribbled in the corner by him.

He had saved her life twice already, but she can't help but think that maybe he is really saving her heart, as she lets her knee touch his as they sit on the cold bathroom floor-and this sudden warmth rushing up her body. If she could tangle her fingers in his hair, and feel his lips for one moment, she may just be the happiest-girl-in-the-world-

"Asami...?" But no, he's looking at her, and she can't tell what she sees. Not her, she knows. He's trapped by something else. How could he ever possible see her, even when she's sitting right here-

"You need to go talk to her. And Mako." These are the words that come out of her mouth in the end. Because somehow, this boy who had been her boyfriend's brother a year ago, has been creating so many feelings in her, but-

"Mako?" He whispered.

"Your brother's been absolutely miserable without you, you know. He blames himself. He keeps coming by here, but you won't let him in."

He uncurled his firsts, looking at his tattooed palms with venom.

"I nearly killed him," were the words in a low, husky voice, "I'm not his brother anymore."

"You didn't mean to hurt anyone, Bolin. Mako knows that."

"Maybe I did, maybe not."

Asami's eyes crinkled. "What do you mean?" She was sure she wasn't going to like this next answer.

"It's like," he looked at his palms intently, as if he would burn away their markings if he tried hard enough. "When I'm like that, I remember all of it. But the worst part is, is that I have no feelings when it happens- no feelings except rage and power and-" he took a deep breath.

"'sami?" he whispered, so quietly she could barely hear him.

"What is it?" she asked quietly. "I'm here."

"Do you wanna know what the worst part of it all is?"

She turned to look at him. "Not that those kids all died because of me; not that every time I have a vision I have to see people die and be people who die. Not even that the city hates me, and I know that it's my fault, or even that I'm seeing the bastard again and feeling like I'm loosing my fucking mind." he took a deep breath.

"Then...what's the worst part?"

"That I like it."

Her eyes widened.

"I like the feeling when I lose absolute control, and don't give a fuck anymore. When I reach the point where I could kill them and laugh at their screams while doing it, and making them helpless feels like the best thing in the world. If no one was there to stop me," he whispered, "I don't think I would've even wanted to stop. But that makes me feel more sick than anything, Asami, it really does." His voice cracked.

The tears were now streaming down his blotchy face unforgivingly. "It makes me sick because, in the end, I think he might have been right. The Abdicator said that I'd eventually learn to accept it, and love it. That I'd like doing that to people, or fucking ghosts if I even tried-and you know what?"

Asami shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes.

"He was right, Asami. He was fucking right." his body shook as she pulled him into her arms, "And I'm scared sick that one of these days, nothing's gonna bring me back, and it's gonna be you, or Mako, or Korra laying on the ground under me instead."

"Oh, Bolin..."

And they don't know how long the two of them stay like that, curled up on the cold tiles of his bathroom, crying their eyes out. An hour later, Bolin won't stir as Asami carries him to his bed and tucks him in. He won't even flinch as she kisses him on the forehead and says a quiet prayer for him, looking at him for a few minutes, wishing she could do more for him, (have more of her to offer to him.) He won't hear her heart shatter as she turns off the light and closes the door, even when her cars rolls away just as the sun comes up.


Bolin had never resented sunlight as much as he did in that moment, as its rays of torture shone on his face. Somehow, he had gotten into his bed from the bathroom last night, and Bolin was positively certain that if he did not return to that room of the bath, his bed was going to be covered in puke in the next twenty seconds.

Or maybe he could just drown in his vomit. Yes, that was a very depressing thought indeed. But one that was increasing in option every time he tried to move, because the sledgehammer in his head was chopping his brain into atom-sized pieces.

Bolin cursed, and flew the blankets off with the grace of a hog-monkey. He thought memory was supposed to suck during a hangover, but he remembered with clarity the events of last night-and for that he was internally grateful.

Asami had gone above and beyond for him, despite monster he was, and without her, he'd surely be locked in a jail cell this very moment.

His gut twisted, and he scrambled to the floor, crawling on his hands and knees to the bathroom. He had a flash of his younger self on the street, sitting in the alleys watching the druggies stuff their fingers down their throats as needles stuck half-way out of their arms, and their guts (or what was left of them) spilled on the ground. It'd been some sort of test, to see who could stuff enough in their bloodstream and get the most high, while keeping what was considered the 'Brotherhood Cocktail' down. Bolin had been offered to try it more than once, but always refused. It turns you into vegetables, Mako had always said. When he asked what his brother meant by that (because where were these vegetables? He was damn hungry and wanted some vegetables) Mako had always just shaken his head and said not to worry about it.

Now, as he reached for the doorknob, he felt it:

His eyes rolled back, and his memories shifted as the room went out of focus.

He was an Earth Kingdom girl, a few years younger, and his limbs were strapped to a table.

The girl was kicking and screaming, trying in vain to get away. Men in masks were standing around her/him, and testing out their equipment.

"Subject Eighteen is ready for testing, doctor," one said as he held a huge needle in his hand.

"Very good, Citkah. You may proceed with the operation." The man called Citkah nodded, and the straps were pulled tighter.

The girl screamed again, "No! Stop, please! Leave me alone, I didn't do everything wrong!"

"Ohh, dear child, do not wear yourself out yet. This is just the beginning." the man stood over her.

"N-no! Stop!"

"Do not fear, child. Your Surrogates will protect you." Then he probed the needle into her eyeball, and her back arched.

To say that Bolin was used to having visions now, was an understatement, because he still screamed like hell. The room came back into view, with him seizing against the wall, and when he wiped his hand against his eye, red came back on his fingers.

His stomach heaved again, and his mouth obeyed as it all surged out on the floor. Nowhere near the toilet.

"Fuck!" he screamed, trying to sit up. His left eye burned like a bitch, and he was having trouble seeing out of it.

After puking once more, he managed to crawl to the couch, and plop his body down. He rested his head on his arms, and closed his eyes, breathing heavily. The room had already started smelling horrible. "Fuck my life..."

He actually managed to go back to sleep for a few minutes- before an annoying knocking on the door woke him up.

"You have a visitor..." The Abdicator appeared above him as he opened his eyes. He yelped and fell for the floor. "Bloody hell-!" The Abdicator smiled a crooked grin, to which Bolin through a dish at him.

Of course, it went right through him, and hit the wall.

The knocking continued louder.

"Come on!" Bolin yelled, throwing up his hands, "Can't a guy have a hangover, in peace?! Is that too much to ask?!"

The knocking continued.

"Alright, cominggggggg..."

Before he opened the door, he prayed it wasn't his brother. Because if it was-

"Hello..."

In the threshold, stood a bony-looking kid, who had to be about fifteen or so. He definitely looked Fire Nation, with his piercing ember eyes, and red clothes.

"Bolin!" The boy exclaimed. He blinked after a moment, probably due to his less-than-nice looking (and smelling) appearance.

"Um, hi...?" Bolin tried to think back to if this boy was a street kid he'd seen around, because he apparently knew him. But no- he definitely wasn't from the streets; too rich and innocent looking. Bolin could call a street kid from a mile off. He had not one speak of dirt in him. All though his hair was quite messy, and his glasses were cracked- and Bolin's eye still burned. "Do I, uh," Bolin scratched his head. "Do I know you?"

The boy shook his head. "Not yet. My name is Chan," he said. "I'm like you."

"...Like me?" Bolin blinked. This was too much for one morning. Bolin just wanted to curl up and die, not babysit. Maybe if he puked on him, he'd go away..."Look, kid. If you're trying to sell something, I ain't buying, so..." he tried to close the door, but the boy- Chan- caught it with his foot and wrenched it open.

"Wait! Please!" he begged, "I am like you. I have powers, too, look!" Bolin watched as the boy turned completely tangable-like, he could see the other wall through him, and in the next second, he was sinking through the floor...

Bolin was still blinking in a dumfounded shock when he heard the voice from below. "See?"

Only the boy's head was sticking through the floor. Bolin shivered, though he had to admit it was pretty cool.

"I, um, yep," Bolin cleared his throat, "That's something all right. Um-what did you say your name was again?"

The boy came back up, and turned back to normal. "Chan," he said solemnly, "And I need your help. The Surrogates are after us."