Quick A/N: To anyone still reading this, I'm so sorry for the delay! I promise I haven't forgotten about this 'verse—and the next updates will come much faster than this one. I swear.

Thank you to kubosz, Guest, Janine and Suvorov for your reviews, abbydobbie, NathanHale2 and killjoy funny man for your favorites, and kudoshinichi1994, NathanHale2, Kuroshibata70, killjoy funny man, RockPikachu and kriitikko for your follows. I appreciate it.

Please enjoy this next chapter of Illogically Logical.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Cover Credits go to Hopiamanipopcorn from deviantART.

Illogically Logical by boasamishipper

Act Two, Part 3

Fresh from his conference with Colonel Jiang, Bolin reentered his unit's quarters, ready to relax for the rest of the night before their confirmed next mission in Omashu in three days' time. As he leaned against the doorframe, Chouko approached him, abandoning the letter he'd been writing, presumably to Penga. Bolin gave him a salute, and Chouko waved it off. "At ease," the lieutenant muttered. "Hey, Doc, did you get a chance to talk with Sergeant Kimiri earlier?"

"Yes, sir," Bolin confirmed in the same whispered tone as Chouko. "Did you?"

"Yeah, just now. She seems pissed over the fact that Yuhan's been treating her like crap," Chouko said, then hastily added, "Understandably, of course."

"I told her that she needs to talk it out with him, sir," Bolin told Chouko. "Only problem is that I don't know how long it'll take for her to make a move."

"I don't think you'll have to wait very long, Doc," Chouko said, jerking his chin toward Kimiri, who was walking towards Yuhan's bunk. Her shoulders were thrown back, and she looked like she was psyching herself up for the scariest event of her life.

"Shen, can I talk to you?" Kimiri asked hesitantly. "It's, um, it's kind of important."

"Well, I'm kind of busy now," Yuhan retorted, not willing to make eye contact with her.

Bolin winced. This wasn't going to go well, he could tell already. Takumi and Raia were watching the scene like it was a tiebreaker round in a probending match. Chouko was watching it like one would watch a brutal car accident. Bolin surmised that he was watching Yuhan and Kimiri approximately the same way.

"Yuhan," Kimiri said, sounding slightly irritated, "you're sitting on your bunk staring into space. Unless you're having an epiphany, then I think we should talk."

"Look, Sarge, I don't want to talk to you. How's that for a better explanation?" Yuhan replied sarcastically before standing up and making to leave. "Go and cook dinner or something, make yourself useful."

"Hey." Kimiri grabbed Yuhan's arm and whirled him around. "You do not get to talk to me like that, like—like I'm beneath you. Because guess what, Yuhan—I'm not just here to smile and look pretty. I outrank you, which means you need to listen to me. Are we clear, Corporal?"

Yuhan gave Bolin a pleading look, but he refused to get involved. They had to handle this on their own. Chouko didn't say anything, and neither did Takumi or Raia, making it clear that the corporal was on his own for this one.

"Fine," Yuhan got out through gritted teeth. "My sincerest apologies, Sergeant Kimiri. Go right ahead."

Kimiri pointed at the corporal like he'd committed a felony. "You see? This is what I'm talking about! You are making a mockery out of me, every day, every fucking minute. It annoys the shit out of me. I don't appreciate you treating me and Jiao-long and Iko like we're something that you found on a toilet seat in a public lavatory." She took a deep breath in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. "Alright. I know that you...I know you don't like me because I replaced your friend Riya. And I know you don't like Iko and Jiao-long because they replaced Sergeant Niko. But you have got to let it go, okay?"

"How dare you even say that to me?" Yuhan growled. "You've known me for what, a week now, and you think you can just start talking to me about something this controversial?"

"It's not controversial! You have got to talk about this, Yuhan, or else you'll never heal. I bet that your friends would hate the new you! Did you treat them like they were beneath you too? Did you make a mockery of Riya, saying that she needed to get back to the kitchens and cook you a nice dinner?"

"Fuck off!" Yuhan shoved Kimiri backwards on instinct, and Bolin stepped forward to interfere but Chouko placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let them duke it out, Doc," he whispered. "This is between them. You can't get involved."

Kimiri reacted like a rat-viper, shoving Yuhan so hard that he fell backwards with a crash onto the floor. "What do you want from me?" she shouted. "Do you want me to kill myself? D'you want me to resign? Would that make you happy?"

There was complete silence in the room as Kimiri breathed heavily, trying to calm herself down.

"Look. I'm sorry that I replaced Riya, and I'm even sorrier that you lost two people that were so close to you. I can't even begin to imagine how awful that must feel." Yuhan didn't say anything, so Kimiri continued. "But just because you're grieving doesn't mean you should take out your frustrations on people who don't deserve it. Second Lieutenant Lieng and Lieutenant Chouko are grieving too. They haven't snapped at all."

"Yuhan." Chouko decided it was best to speak up now, and Bolin silently agreed with his commanding officer. "Riya was special to you. We all knew it. But the fact remains that she is dead, and shouting at Sergeant Kimiri isn't gonna change anything."

Yuhan's eyes were glistening, and he bit his lip. "I know Riya is dead, sir," he began. "It hurts like hell. Hiroshu gave his life killing the guy and I stood there and did nothing. I hate myself for it. Kimiri, Raia, Takumi. I know I've been a dick lately. But I've been grieving..." The corporal paused again, and steeled himself to say the next part. Bolin hoped that it was an apology—things were awkward enough with his unit already. "I've been grieving, and that ain't much of an excuse, but you'll have to take it for now. It'll take time, but I'll learn to accept Riya and Hiroshu's deaths like Doc and Lieutenant Chouko have. I'm sorry, you guys. I really am."

Yuhan held out his hand, and Kimiri exchanged a quick glance with Takumi and Raia. "Is it okay with you two?"

"Yeah, Sarge," Takumi immediately said, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. Raia nodded, still a man of few words as always. Bolin could count on the fingers of one hand how many times that Raia had spoken since the lance corporal had joined the Third Battalion. But it was obvious that the corporal had agreed to make amends with Yuhan too.

"Then I guess it's alright with me," she decided, and gave Yuhan's hand a quick pump. "Let's start over, shall we?"

Yuhan gave her a tentative half-smile. "Yeah," he said. "Let's start over."

"Have I…what?" Kuzon looked confused, and he shifted up Zia into a more comfortable position on his lap. "I'm sorry, Ms. Sato, could you repeat that?"

"No, Asami, don't repeat that," Bolin ordered about half a second after the man had finished asking the question. Dear Spirits, he could see what Beifong had been talking about and it had barely been thirty seconds into the interrogation. "Just…I'm sorry, Mr. Kuzon, what she was trying to say was—"

"What I had attempted to ask you, Mr. Kuzon," Asami interrupted once more, "once my question is stripped down to the bare essentials, how long had your husband been suffering from the condition known as hemophilia?"

Kuzon's eyes widened. "Oh, I don't have the exact specifics on that one," he said, scrunching up his face as he thought. "Definitely long before we met, though."

"Thank you," Asami said, giving the man a wide smile that reminded Bolin of the one that she'd given the cab driver yesterday night. It didn't look real at all. "Did he take medication for it?"

"Er, yes," Kuzon said after a few moments. Before either Asami or Bolin could ask him to clarify, he continued. "He was on this drug that I can't pronounce at all—antifibri-something, that's the type…It was part of his replacement therapy: that's when the doctors injected concentrates of clotting factor VIII into his bloodstream. I don't really understand it much either, but…"

"Wait, was it tranexamic acid pills?" Bolin asked, out of the blue. "That's a type of antifibrinolytic medicine—"

Kuzon snapped his fingers. "Yes, that's it! That's exactly it. He's—he was on it for a long time, but I could never pronounce it, see."

"That brings me back to my previous question," Asami said, tilting her head. "Did TongXing interact with any pharmacists with serial killer attributes?"

"Erm…" Kuzon glanced over at Bolin, who shrugged. Obviously Asami had a point to make, and if that was the way that she had to phrase her questions, then so be it. Seriously, though, I figured she'd be at least a little more sympathetic with the man. "No? The pharmacist we went to in Capital City is a very nice woman, she recommended us someone here. That's why TongXing went—he was supposed to have a meeting with him today to figure out the rest of his prescription."

Asami's eyebrows furrowed. "And did your pharmacist give you this one's name?"

"Yes, it was—damn it, what was it? Hamato, I think was his first name. I can't remember his last name…I remember TongXing was joking that it sounded like a name for a crazy person…not a halfwit…but…I can't think of it now. I'm sorry."

Bolin's mouth was slightly open. "Okay," he finally said. "Erm, thank you, Mr. Kuzon."

Asami didn't appear satisfied. "Did you or your husband know Jing Nilak, Akemi Hideki, Sakamoto Korei, or Jaida Kuji?"

"The names don't sound familiar," Kuzon replied after a moment of severe contemplation. "Why? Does it say in his records that he does—er, that he did?"

"No. But we have reason to believe that the man who murdered TongXing is a serial killer," Asami answered, sounding almost nonchalant. Kuzon blanched. "And we spotted him as a bartender at Asoka's, and believe that with his medical knowledge that he must be a pharmacist or a pre-med student, judging by his age."

"…but we'll find him," Bolin chimed in, worried that if Kuzon's face got any whiter the man would faint on the spot. "Trust me, sir, the police are doing everything in their power to track down TongXing's murderer."

"Do you swear he'll come to justice?" Kuzon asked, looking at them both in the eyes. It felt like Bolin was getting a rather severe X-ray, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to back out of his promise. Even Asami looked prepared to comb through back alleys and dumpsters to look for the serial killer. Or perhaps it was his imagination, because her look of determination faded after a few seconds and returned to a blasé, noncommittal expression.

"Yes, we promise," Asami said, giving him a wide (and possibly fake) smile before coming over to crouch next to Zia. "Don't worry, Zia, we'll find your father's killer."

Zia looked terrified and buried her face in Kuzon's shoulder. Asami looked perturbed as she glanced over to Bolin, silently asking what she'd done wrong. He barely managed to stifle a snicker as he tousled Zia's hair and pulled Asami to her feet. "Thank you for speaking with us, Mr. Kuzon," he said politely, "we'll be keeping in touch."


Asami looked up from her work, pushing her safety goggles back up the bridge of her nose and pouted at Bolin, who was reclining on the couch flipping through the newspaper. "What exactly did I do wrong?" she asked for the thousandth time. "You still won't tell me, you know."

Bolin glanced over at her, shrugging one shoulder before going back to an article about the Fire Nation circus coming to visit in two months. "To be fair," he casually commented, "I still can't believe that you said what you said to Kuzon."

"What was wrong with what I said?"

"Spirits, Asami, the man just lost his husband and the father of his child to some two-bit serial pharmacist. The least you could've done was—well, be his shoulder to cry on, somewhat. At least be nicer than you were."

"What should I have done, offered him a hot beverage?" Asami scoffed at the very thought and tossed her hair over her shoulder, retying it back into a ponytail. A few stubborn wisps of black hair escaped from the rubber band and settled around her ears. She swiped them to the side impatiently. "I got to the heart of the matter, didn't I?"

"You were insensitive!" Bolin protested, putting the newspaper down. He'd gotten sick of reading the senseless stories in the Republic City Herald anyways—nothing was of any interest to him. "You could've at least said that you were sorry for what Kuzon was going through, you know."

"Why should I have? It's not like I'll remember this case in a few months from now anyways. Neither will you, I reckon, Dr. Lieng," Asami added, critically surveying the the large curved glass container boiling furiously over the bluish flame of the Bunsen burner. She dipped an eyedropper into a bottle, drawing out a few drops of hydrochloric acid and put it into a test tube. "He'll just be another sad face drifting in the back of your mind."

Bolin opened his mouth and closed it again, wondering whether or not he should say what was on his mind. Nah, he decided. She probably won't understand the concepts of social graces anyways. Too focused on science and the case and all that. "I'll save the lecture on social graces for later," he finally said, earning a disgruntled snort from his roommate, who was furiously writing down something on a piece of paper. "Let's get back to the case at hand."

"Alright," Asami said, switching off the Bunsen burner. Bolin opened a window, fanning the burnt scent of chemicals outside, not able to take it any longer. "Chief Beifong got back to me about Jaida Kuji. And her husband was just tracked down and notified."

"Poor sap."

"What about the other spouses?" Asami said. "They probably feel bad."

They probably feel more than just bad, if Kuzon's any indication. Bolin rolled his eyes. "Alright, poor saps, then," he corrected himself. "Plural. Carry on. What did Beifong say to you about Jaida?"

"She had hemophilia too," Asami revealed. "Same level as the others had. TongXing and she were especially similar. Apparently he took the same medication that she did, the Coumadin thing. And apparently she trusted Saikhan enough to go and ask who the bartenders are at Asoka's." Asami rolled her eyes. "And before you inquire anything of me, let me just reveal that Saikhan—in my opinion of him, of course—is such an idiot that he would struggle pouring water out of a boot with the instructions on the heel."

"Either or," he said, holding back his laughter at Asami's blatant dislike for the police officer, "how did his task go?"

"Surprisingly well. He got the information and Beifong gave these to me." Asami tossed three photographs to Bolin, who sifted through them and scrutinized the three people carefully, waiting for something to jump out at him. The bar had been dimly lit last night, but he'd caught a glimpse of the bartender—enough to certify who Jaida's murder was—hadn't he? "Do you recognize anyone, Bolin?"

Bolin bit his lip, looking between two photographs. The third he'd cast aside instantly—the bartender had been male. The first photo was of a young man in his twenties, with carrot-colored hair and a tattoo on the side of his neck. The second photo was of an older guy wearing an ivory-white shirt, probably around Chouko's age, with black hair and green eyes and darker skin, symbolizing an Earth Kingdom descent. "It's this one," he said with finality, jabbing the second photo. "I'm positive it's this one."

Asami took the photo back and examined it, turning it over. "It says his name is Hamato Yoon," she said, reading the note stuck to the back of it. "Thirty-four years old."

"Yes, it was—damn it, what was it? Hamato, I think was his first name. I can't remember his last name…I remember TongXing was joking that it sounded like a name for a crazy person…not a halfwit…but…I can't think of it now. I'm sorry."

"Huh," Bolin mused. "I guess that's what Kuzon meant when he said that the guy's last name reminded him of a term for a crazy person." When Asami looked at him, her expression asking him to clarify his words, he explained, "'Yoon' kind of sounds like 'loon'."

"Yes, and judging by his actions Hamato Yoon is a crazy person," Asami answered offhandedly, her attention still fixed on the photograph.

"Well, then, I suppose all we need to do is ask for Beifong to put out a citywide all-points bulletin for this guy," Bolin said reasonably. "Then we'll catch him in no time."

Asami shook her head. "No, Bolin, you don't get it. He's a clever man—very clever indeed if he's managed to elude capture for so long. If they put out an all-points bulletin, Yoon will just scamper off to the Earth Kingdom or the Fire Nation or someplace where we have no jurisdiction and continue his killing spree elsewhere. We have to keep this quiet and find him on our own."

Bolin barked out an incredulous laugh. "Asami, do you have any clue how big this city even is? I grew up on the streets and I still don't know every nook and cranny of this place."

"I have two words for you, Doctor—homeless network." Asami gave him a cocky smirk. "They'll find him if I can't and will get the information back to me."

Bolin blanched, thinking of the Breeze chasing after the psychotic Hamato Yoon with his rickshaw, followed by a ragtag crew of Asami's homeless network. It wasn't a particularly reassuring image. But then again, neither was the image of Saikhan and Song parading after the serial pharmacist. "Um…okay. Erm. I'm sure that'll work. But how about we try and track him down instead of letting your homeless network do it?"

"You're a terrible liar, Bolin," Asami commented, rolling her eyes. "But that's beside the point. I'll be going after this guy no matter what. I'd like to find out his motive for doing this, anyways. He's my enemy just as much as he's Kuzon's."

For some reason, something clicked in Bolin's mind when she mentioned that Hamato was her enemy. "Speaking of enemies, are you ever going to tell me who the guy that kidnapped me was? The one who said he was your enemy? The one who offered me cash to spy on you?"

"No," she replied flippantly, going back to her notes on the experiment she'd just done. "I'll leave the figuring out to you on that account, Dr. Lieng."

Bolin shrugged, figuring that he wouldn't have gotten an answer on that question anyways. "Fair enough," he allowed. "Want lunch?" Then, because he was curious, he asked, "When's the last time you ate something?"

"I don't eat when I'm on a case." She said it like her not consuming anything for the duration of a case was the most normal thing on the planet. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I want lunch and I don't think you should be left to your own devices when you're so hung up about tracking down Hamato Yoon. Ever heard of the expression 'fuel for thought'?"

"Mm." Asami considered it for half a second, racking her mind. "Possibly. Might've deleted it. What's the main idea of your question?"

"Not eating for so long could and will impair your cognitive function."

Asami pondered this, her expression blasé. He could tell that he'd gotten through to her, though. Score one for Lieng, baby. "I know a good place that serves Water Tribe cuisine," she said. "Narook—he's the owner—and I have been friends for a while. We can get a nice table and a good deal. Plus, I've always been partial to his sea prune stew."

Bolin tapped his chin, pretending to think it over. He was hungry enough for anything at this point, and he'd always liked Water Tribe cuisine. "I'm game," he announced. "Let's go, then."


The inside of the restaurant was heavily decorated with Water Tribe relics, art, and tapestries, though it maintained some modern touches, like the electric lights and the radio blaring over the bar. The tables were scattered across the place—each were square-shaped and made from brown and golden wood—and seated up to ten people. It was a lively place that reeked of delicious scents and spices.

If it were possible to fall in love with a restaurant, he'd accomplished it.

The owner, Narook, came over to Bolin and Asami practically the very second that they walked into the restaurant. "Hello, Asami!" Narook said, looking and sounding pleased as he shook her hand fervently. He led them to a table in the back of the restaurant with a view of the street outside, bustling with people and animals alike. "Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free of charge," he told Bolin, who froze with his hand halfway toward his wallet. "I insist. For you and your date."

"I'm not her date," Bolin said as Asami took the menus from a beaming Narook, skimming through them before handing them back.

"This woman got me off a murder charge and cleared my name. I'd stick with her if I were you." With a grin at Asami, he said, "Our sea prune stew for you, Ms. Sato, as usual. For you, sir?"

"Dr. Lieng will have the seaweed noodles," Asami said before Bolin could even open his mouth. "We'll both have some lychee juice to drink."

"Very well. I'll get that right up. Not to mention a candle for the table." Narook winked at Bolin, who remained nonplussed. "It's more romantic."

"Still not her date," Bolin called after Narook as he bustled off to the kitchen. "Asami, you know I'm not—you know we're not on a date. Are we?"

"I'm well aware of that, Doctor," Asami replied. Her lips twitched, like she was fighting the urge to laugh. For once, he couldn't blame her. "You may as well let him go along with his fantasy. He's been trying to pair me off with someone since we were first introduced. Last time around he tried to set me up with someone named Lisu Jin. Nice woman. But not nearly captivating enough for me to remain interested."

Bolin nearly did a double-take. "So, are…are you…" He stopped mid-sentence, hoping that she would finish it for him.

"Am I what?" Asami clearly knew exactly what Bolin was wondering, but clearly wanted to make him suffer and say it.

Lowering his voice, he finished, "Gay?"

She gave him an inscrutable look, her eyes roaming over his body long enough to make him extremely uncomfortable. He shifted in his chair, trying not to sweat, and the corners of Asami's mouth quirked upwards into a genuine smile. "Perhaps you'll never know," was her response as Narook brought back their food, steaming hot.

Bolin dug into his noodles, slurping them up with his chopsticks as Asami delicately ate her sea prune stew. All the while he kept on wondering whether Narook's Seaweed Noodlery would be able to cater at his wedding—it was probably the best food he'd ever had. Even Mako's famous soup didn't come close: although he'd never admit that to his older brother.

They didn't speak, and while the silence would've been uncomfortable had it been anyone else that Bolin was sitting with, but their silence was almost comfortable, in a weird way. The only thing they said was the occasional "Pass me a napkin" and "Are you ready to leave?".

It was only when they began walking back to Baker Street when Asami muttered something under her breath. Bolin could understand why—the police cars surrounding the street probably wasn't a good sign. "What do you think they're here for?"

Asami mumbled a curse under her breath again. "Damned if I know," she said.

They made their way upstairs, where Mrs. Shirui was pacing around the landing because of all of the commotion going on in their apartment. "Asami, dear, Ms. Beifong and half the precinct came looking for you and Dr. Lieng—"

"Yes, Mrs. Shirui, I know, we'll take care of it," Asami responded, putting a hand on Mrs. Shirui's shoulder. "It'll be quick. Nothing to worry about."

"If you insist, Asami, but they sounded very serious—"

"Not a problem." Asami's smile was forced, and her shoulders tensed as she left Mrs. Shirui on the stairway. Bolin opened the door and the two of them walked inside their apartment, where Beifong lounged in the armchair facing them. Other police officers were milling around, each of them staying well away from the skull on the mantelpiece.

"What are you doing here?" Asami's voice was sharp. "You can't just break into my apartment."

"We've had a warrant for wherever you live since someone called the cops on you three years ago," was the chief's blasé response as she stood up. "Besides, I hoped you'd figured out who the killer is by now."

"Well, yes," Asami spluttered, "but why are the rest of them here? You, I can tolerate. There's only so much stupidity in one room that I can handle without suffering a migraine." As Saikhan entered the room from the kitchen, the consulting detective threw her arms in the air in pure exasperation. "Dear Spirits, it's like an epidemic!"

"I don't have time for this." Beifong looked tired. "Look, Asami, did you figure it out or didn't you?"

"His name is Hamato Yoon," Bolin said after a few seconds of prolonged silence. "Pharmacist and bartender. Serial killer. Mid-thirties."

As Beifong and Saikhan questioned him on what he knew (which wasn't very much, he was sad to say), he noticed Asami wasn't taking in a word of it. She looked rather dumbstruck, almost lost in thought.

A couple of minutes later, she proclaimed, "I've got to go."

"Excuse me?" Beifong asked incredulously. Saikhan's jaw had dropped to his knees. "Where in the world do you think that you're going?"

Even Bolin was taken aback by Asami wanting to leave. "Are you feeling alright, Asami?" he inquired, fully prepared to administer medical assistance in case she felt poorly.

"I—I'm fine. I need to pop outside for a moment or two for some fresh air. Won't be long, I promise."

The chief of police looked like she'd been hit in the face with something very heavy. "Um," she said. "Alright. Go on. Do, um, do you want Dr. Lieng to accompany you?"

"No, I'm fine." She shook her head and hurried out of the room. Bolin followed her to the living room door and frowned at her quick pace down the stairs, calling after her, "You sure you're okay?"

Asami turned back once she got to the front door. Her determined expression reminded Bolin of Kimiri or Riya right before they'd gone on dangerous missions—willing to do whatever it took to get the job done. Why does she look like that? What's she going to do? Her expression softened slightly. "I'm fine," she assured him, her hand on the doorknob. "Stay here, Dr. Lieng. I'll only be a few moments."

She disappeared out the door before he could even begin to think of a reply, and an uneasy feeling blossomed in his gut after a few minutes had passed. "She'll be fine," he told himself, heading back upstairs. "She's not going to do anything stupid."

She wouldn't, would she?

To be continued…

-Boa :)