Last Installment of Given

Note: Sorry about the mix of past and present tense lol

Before the Dawn

"Seven devils all around me-

"Seven devils in my house."

"See they were there when I woke up this morning-

"I'll be dead before the day is done."

Through slitted lenses, Richard regards the snowy tiers of clouds drifting by, flushed forehead cooling from the glass window he leans it against. He ignores his mother's hushed conversation with the flight attendant, preferring his melancholy over the hourly status reports over his health. It was uncomfortable enough that after his discharge, it had only taken a day for his equilibrium to decline, followed steadily by his motor skills and ability to focus – and even more embarrassing that is mother had made a fuss over relocating him to one of the nation's more reputable hospitals rather than send him to the East. Now, with the very likelihood that by the time he disembarked the plane he'd have to be in a wheelchair, the last thing he wanted to keep hearing about was his crippling body. He'd have argued with her about the hypocrisy of choosing Western medicine over practices of the East when presented with both options, seeing as she practically upheld the latter as law, but given the severity of his affliction and the fact that her very sanity as a mother was being put to the test, he wouldn't dream of doing so. If he was in her shoes, he'd be just as much at his wits end. All that mattered red was that she was just as convicted as he that this was their last resort.

He expels a sigh, misting the window more than humanly possible with layers of cold that audibly crackle on the glass. He'd never felt more bizarre, not even when he'd awkwardly began encroaching upon puberty. Never before had he been so weak; at the same time, the closer they ventured to the opposite hemisphere, the more his being teemed with strength. Relief was almost tangible, a feeling akin to curtains drawing closed on a stage alighting inside him

Then there was the fear – up to his ears and threatening to seep out through his pores.

He'd lost count – on the plane alone – how many times he'd woken himself from sleep with heightening whimpers and whines, how many times he peeled himself from his mother's shoulder in a cold sweat yet a feverish temple. Their surrounding passengers, on varying degrees of concern and complaint, made no secret of asking about him and whether or not "what he had" was contagious. For their sakes, he was deeply consoled that it wasn't.

Richard wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy.

She was relentless now, her tenacity so raw he felt she'd all but shatter to pieces.

Make haste, Richard.

Seek me where she stands thrice, vigilant to the sea.

Seek her womb, afore the eve draws nigh

At some point the white-haired apparition had begun to speak in riddles; had he not been a well-versed thespian accustomed to droves of classical plays, it would have been a great drag. Truthfully, even with his familiarity, he would have still been hopelessly confounded if she didn't accompany her harrowing calls with visions of the designated destination. Nevertheless, how did she expect him to keep up when he was teetering on the border between existence and nothingness?

If you went through what you put me through, you would see how excessive you are.

I am sorry you feel this way, Richard.

I'd beg to differ.

I know you are afraid, and I know this isn't easy.

You can't even justify yourself. Don't you realize I'm just a kid?

I do. I was too.

He wonders, not for the first time, if she conversed with his mother the night he was born. The mere thought of asking gives him a headache in anticipation of any answer she may give. Zigzagging his finger over the window to clear the frost, he is able to see his opaque reflection again; faint stubble and a plagued look that stubbornly clings to his features.

You have yet to show me how so, oh high and mighty mistress

Her lovely face, deeply creased in sadness in response to his snide remark, replaces his reflection.

"Richard?" a quiet voice beseeches.

Her presence wisps away just as quickly when he turns to his mother. He tries to give her a silly grin. "Still among the living, Mom."

She services him an eye roll that means she isn't amused. "You're not hungry yet?"

"I'll give it a couple more hours."

"We will be landing by then. You have to put something in your system aside from water." She opens her mouth to add something, very likely a comment similar to " this isn't like you", before she reconsiders and bites back her lip. In kind, his next expression, albeit guilty, silently conveys his appreciation that she doesn't let it slip. Nothing as of late, has been "like" him. Clearing her throat to gear herself up again, she nods reluctantly. "Are you sure we show be heading to Sanya?"

"Positive."

"And-

"I have all of the instructions written down, remember?" Unguarded contempt veils his eyes upon turning back to the window, his voice diming. "Not like she will let me forget it anyway."

Silence ensues, the older woman watching her son meaningfully. Gods above, how she wished she could take this pain from him…

Suddenly she notices the gradual fogginess in his rigid cloud-gazing. "Talk to me, Richard," she whispers low enough so no one else can hear. Her hand alights the large fist atop his knee.

"I miss them already."

"I do too." There's something about the way he says it that she doesn't like. At all. "This will all be over soon. You'll see."

" She's taking me away from them," he grits through his teeth, and her chest aches even more, too overwhelming for her to reiterate that its temporary. Pale fingers grasping the fist, she blinks away the stinging heat at the back of her own eyes. "Then….are you sure we aren't making a mistake?"

He shakes his head woodenly. "No Mom…I'm not sure at all. But there's no turning back now."

Memories of haphazardly showing his little sister how to make dumplings cross his mind. Following them are the times he got yelled at for practically blowing his mic during Youtube reacts, and the funny comments he read about his choice catch phrases. He remembers his dad's bad dancing. He remembers broken bones and cockblocking buddies – the rejections he'd had more difficulty recovering from than he let on. He remembers spiced holidays, double dares and how fulfilling it was to make a difference with his influence. Before they left, he remembered the disconcerting feeling of hiding his prized possessions, all labeled with names of those he cherished with the bidding of discovery and distribution, in the back of his parent's closet, like how they hid his and his sister's Christmas presents; but for her, he'd been more direct, and gave her his favorites, – what hadn't already been passed down to her – in her toy trunk. He's forced to relive the very vague, mass social media post he'd made a few hours ago, and sickened with the fact that he had to ignore all the texts that had come flooding in afterwards. Resentment shakes him to his core, for every second he revisits these almost involuntary acts, for coming to grips with something that may not be as impossible as he thinks infeasible.

So engrossed into his bleeding soul, he doesn't notice until the last minute that a nasty turbulence has taken over the plane. His mother's hand had left his to grasp the back of the seat in front of her in white-knuckled fear, her eyes tightly shut. Had it been worse, he knows she would have been clinging to him, too afraid to sustain her pride at the swapped roles of parent and child.

Calm yourself Richard, the girl pleads quietly, no admonishing note in her tone.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, he meditatively closes his eyes. Several moments later, the plane completely stops its tumultuous rocking. As the passengers let out gasps of relief and the captain offers consoling words over the intercom, Richard rolls his shoulder onto hers to get her attention. "Are you okay?"

At her wan smile, he chews his bottom lip, and he adds: "I'm sorry."

What he implies isn't instantaneous. His mother seems to be struck with ambivalence for some time in her steady, studying gaze. Then all at once, realization smites her. She invisibly draws away with terror twice as prevalent in her widened eyes.

Sure. That was all he needed. The one person in the world who understood the most about his situation, and even that, he sees now, isn't enough. She'd looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time before – a different version of himself, never like this. Never in a way like she'd never seen him in her life.

He won't even try to make this deduction make sense. No words can describe the abject nothingness her stare inflicts within him.

So he turns away, hollowly transfixing on the dark clouds rapidly clearing, to make way for the white gold sunshine and a sea of cobalt that reminds him of someone's vigilant presence.

Trying to make as little of a scene as possible, Richard's mother requests emergency accessibility assistance when they land. And as the upbeat young transport wheels him away from the gate, the stricken woman closely in step with them, she can't help but grimly stare around at the clusters of people huddled under the plasmas screens either watching forlornly, muttering intensely amongst one another, or some combination of the two. Chancing a peek at one of the tvs, she sees clips of severely torrential storms tearing through cities and suburbs – all over the globe. Some places, particularly islands and seaside towns, are threatened and devastated with typhoons, tsunamis, flashfloods, and hurricanes of which the world has rarely seen at such a scale, borderlining uncharted. Especially occurring everywhere at once. She only briefly reads the disturbing, Mandarin subtitles about increasingly abnormal lunar activity before forcing her eyes back to her son. Predictably, he's still detached – perhaps a little bit paler. But the way he iron-grips the wheelchair's arms doesn't bypass her.

The offhand joke the transport makes (no doubt to lighten the mood) about an impending apocalypse doesn't help things either; in fact, to the extent that her nervousness follows them out of the airport and to their hotel, where she checks them in and helps the gangly, catatonic boy to their room, piteous stares of the employees and guests following them like an execution procession. By then she can no longer deny it. She has been attune to it all along. Something about her afflicted son and the current imbalance of the world were tied. She didn't know why but in every which way, deep down, she felt responsible.

So she didn't want to think about the guilt he must have been harboring for God knew how long.

Quite a tall order you've saddled us with, she sighs towards the bright coin in the sky, tucking Richard into the couch near the window. He'd insisted to sleep there, and despite her reservations toward the oddly consecutive, rounded "best friend" her son has grown up with, she allows it. Instead of touching the simple meal of rice and soup she sets on a table next to him, he clutches his pillow and stares back at her unguardedly…longingly.

On their connecting flight the next day to Sanya, he is still as dispassionate as ever and refuses to eat, yet there's a spark in his eyes that wasn't there before. When she questions him about it carefully, calmness - like the one issued to protect them in their travels regardless of the world flooding around them - passes across his face. He looks at her with purpose.

"I'm not afraid anymore."

Relief should have swamped her down to her core, yet she found herself feigning a watery smile and breaking down in the bathroom after they landed.

After that, she vowed she would pull herself together, never falter in her strength or derail. Richard's mumbling and its tell-tale inflections signified that his conversations with his guide had progressed out of his head, with the teen sometimes pinpointing a spot in his vicinity as he spoke. Even in the night before they headed to Nanshan Temple, she had to tentatively follow her sleepwalking son out to the beach near their hotel, where she watched, holding her breath and covering her mouth, as Richard stripped, waded into the tossing waves reverently before the plump beacon before him, and commanded the restless waters with his arms. She could smell a tempest in the air but her son seemed to quell it, and the stars seemed to wink at him in mirth, entertained by the intricate spirals he created in mid-air with the depths. Likewise, the boy's blazing, pale blue eyes denoted the same pleasure.

Still, the usual waver in her voice, whenever she phones her husband with updates, begins to dissipate more and more with each call.

More lethargic than ever, Richard kept a steadfast eye on the looming, three-faced statue before them that overlooked the sea. But electricity seemed to thrum and hum through his veins the closer his mother wheeled him forward on the bridge. He'd insisted they start to head to Nanshan Temple at the first stroke of dusk, so citrus hues of sunlight soaked into their skin, a strong, coastal breeze rifling through their hair. Thankfully, he no longer had to explain himself – the solemn woman behind him already knew the whys and whats of his current instructions.

One of the Guan Yin Buddha's faces stared back at him in perpetual tranquility, her golden fixture of a halo glittering in the waning light,. Perhaps in another life, he could gaze upon her and appreciate the complete and utter peace she seemed to invigorate within the soul.

Now, though, he grasped his knees in tightly wound anticipation. He was a livewire.

I am with you

His eyes suddenly glaze over. "I know," he says, trying to unstick his throat. There's the slightest hesitation of breath behind him, as if his mother was about to respond and realized he wasn't talking to her. The apparition reassures him the spiritual acolytes of the temple have been expecting him, so he doesn't need to worry about being refused entry after tourist hours. In fact, they gaily wait to receive him. As he nods in understanding, he tries not to think about how long they must've been waiting. Surely they might've sensed the storm clouds, as it were, brewing even before the rest of the world began to go into labor.

"Its beautiful here, Yue," Richard continues, "But why this place?"

Guan Yin was my protégée many years ago. Her enlightenment superseded even my expectations, and as such, I made her the guardian of this sacred land. To seal this guardianship, she swore twelve oaths to save all living things. I relieved her of her physical form so her spirit could permeate this area of Sanya. That is why even as we speak, I know you can feel it. The good will here. Guan Yin is also the demi-goddess of compassion, mercy, and longevity, and the reason this land is so auspicious

Richard's stomach cinches as he roves the fiery heavens, finding the pinprick of the emerging moon easily.

"You were born the night of a full moon. An auspicious time for anyone to be born."

"So she sacrificed herself, just like you did," he finally whispers.

We both had a choice. And we chose wisely.

"Neither sounded like much of a choice," he snipes. "I thought you were done trying to make it seem like this situation is any different."

Yue materializes to his right, gliding alongside them as they near the grandiose entrance. She regards him guiltily. I just want to make it easier for everyone. I'm sorry

Richard jerks away from the glowing girl, urging himself to settle down for his mother's sake. He peers over the edge of the bridge, taking in the gentle ebb and flow of the tides against the pillars. Indeed, Guan Yin's essence saturated this place; it appeared to be immune to the elemental calamity a few miles on the outskirts of the Nanshan Temple zone, where a ring of black clouds devastates the seas far out and the rocky coasts on either side of the temple. Like they are in the eye of the storm. Richard draws in a shaky breath, using the serenity of his immediate surroundings to soothe his ire. He supposes, for a place where people come to receive blessings, he shouldn't taint himself further.

He faces forward impassively. Yue bites her bottom lip before smoking away, leaving them to brake to a stop in front of the temple doors, where a robed, bald man is waiting for them. His arms are folded in orange, billowing sleeves, his elderly smile welcoming. The man bows in greeting to his mother with gentle mutters. When she mimics his bow politely, the wrinkled man addresses Richard. Although his eyes are kind, pity swims in his gaze at the boy's poor health.

"it is an honor to receive you at last, Richard Yan. We have been awaiting the envoy of Master La for quite some time. Praise to Mistress Tui for bringing you here safely."

Suddenly Richard's placation gave way to chilling awareness. Aged, tan hands reached out to clasp his clammy pair, and the teen swallowed hard. The man stooped to his level effortlessly, continuing. "I am the senior monk, Laghima. The Masters and the Guan Yin Buddha have tasked me in escorting you this evening."

"Escorting me where?"

The monk squeezed his hands paternally, flickering a look to his mother. "A place most hidden from mortal eyes."

Well, that didn't sound cryptic at all. "Let me guess. You and generations of monks before you have been aiding Guan Yin in protecting this place."

"Precisely." There was a twinkle in the old man's eyes.

With a sigh, Richard sagged, then squared his shoulders in sheer determination. "Lead the way."

Nodding in affirmation, the monk straightens and places a hand on his left shoulder. Responding to an inaudible cue, the doors crank open and once they enter the temple, Yue appears again, fingers curling into his right one.

The dizziness that hit him was almost instantaneous. Not because of the immensely ornate, colorful furnishings or dazzling, golden trimmings, but the pure, spiritual energy spiraling around him. It took him a minute to recognize the heaving and gasping as his own, to which his mother had paused in pushing to cluck over him in alarm. Trying to calm him as well, Laghima assured her this was normal since he was naturally more sensitive to spots concentrated in spirituality. Yue stood behind the pair crouched in front of him, palms moving back and forth in a quelling gesture.

We are very close. You will adjust – easy does it

Strangely, she who had vexed him so earlier ultimately channeled his breathing back to normal. When he stammered that he was alright, the echoes of his harsh gasps subsiding, they proceeded down the empty halls. Richard did not miss the, "We must make haste," the man uttered under his breath, and although unnerving, he agreed.

Soon Richard lost count of how many doors they'd gone through, the mazes of corridors and rooms of worship they steered through. All he knew was that they seemed to be descending into the lower levels of the temple. Statues and incense blurred past him until on either side of him, scones lit up the stone walls of the temple's underground. The fire did little to warm the damp chill of the air, yet it helped light the ramp that slopped and corkscrewed deeper into the vast sub-terrain that had to be centuries older than the upper part of the temple. Richard's nostrils widen to take in the unmistakable scent of water, the muskiness that had been trapped for eons. At a certain point, his shivering mother paused to shrug on a sweater. The ramp became narrower so the monk shuffled in front of them instead of at his side.

Most peculiarly, he started to notice the rock jutting from the walls with each curve. There were deep grooves, more like miniature trenches where water trickled through. Honing in even more on his acuteness to the liquid element, Richard heard and felt the roaring and rushing of it within the rock above, below and alongside. Then, reaching another point where they were enclosed by a rocky tunnel, water now a shimmering blue that illuminated their way instead of the scones, Richard hears male voices, one adolescent and brightly persuasive – the other slightly more mature and thoughtful.

I guess we'll never find out about the secret river then. It goes right to the Fire lord's palace. We were supposed to learn about it in class tomorrow…

Hmm, I am a fan a secret rivers.

Richard grins to himself, shaking his head. When the spiritual aura thickens, hitting him with another wave of wooziness, the second voice resonates again, in the same state of delirium that Richard feels.

Take that, you rock!

This time he bites back laughter. The briny taste of frozen frogs lingers familiarly in the back of his throat, and the scolding, shrill feminine voice of a different baby sister rings in his head. Sokka, I looked at it, and I told you, there was nothing there!

I could feel it! Its my throatal flap!

It was taking all of his willpower to stifle the confused giggles. Still, he kept his composure as best he could. Even with the addition of more voices and flashed imagery in his mind of kids in weird clothing, hybrid animals and bustling civilizations of red, orange, green, and blue…

Before long, he could no longer distinguish the voice of the tan-skinned, blue-eyed teenager of his visions with his own head voice, and there was a quiet resignation to this as finally, the three of them entered a cavern in the bowels of the temple. The shining flow of waters, in rivulets coming from the walls and the floors, fed into a small pool in the middle of a grassy oasis, nestled in the center of the otherwise craggy clearing. Exotic floral bushels and other foliage encircle the pool tranquilly. Despite the chilly trek down, the energy here is in full bloom so much so that the atmosphere is warm. The sharp intake of breath mingled with a sigh of relief came from his mother, who undoubtedly was feeling the effects of the spiritual plane and grateful for the temperature change. Laghima, who had stopped and stood in front of Richard's line of sight to the pool, hastily steps aside and sweeps his hand out towards the mystical terrarium. He kept a careful eye on the boy who went to stand to his feet on weak ankles, brushing off his mother when she tried to assist him. Gritting his teeth, Richard staggered the few centimeters over to the edge of the pool. Almost overkill, blue-silver moonlight spilled in from a cavity nearly a mile overhead to highlight where he bore down into.

Because normally, my fishing skills are off the hook? Get it?

But now, Richard could find no mirth in the voice's jovial air. All he feels is a soul-crushing tug, defined further as a tender longing and a veracity that he can't explain. Tears well in his eyes at the sight of the black koi fish settled at the pebbly bed of the pond. So, so still except for the occasional, feeble flutter of a fin. Its mouth lies unnaturally agape, eyes a murky grey, and the white rhombus at the top of its body blinking erratically. Frantically swimming round it is a white koi fish with a matching black rhombus, its desperation rippling the water. The black koi's mate can only stare at it helplessly, yet Richard can sense Yue manifests next to him, emanating the same anguish. Fists balling with overwhelming emotions, he turns to her and sure enough, her expression mirrors her scaled counterpart's.

Its time, my love.

She cups his cheek with a translucent hand, and isn't surprised when the boy leans into her touch with closed eyes. After a moment of silent sobbing and relishing her compulsory lull, Richard slowly sinks to his knees. The water reflects off his wet face. A face set in righteousness, however thin. A face just as adamant as the unexpected, unyielding precipitation pounding outside.

" Wait, Richard! What are you doing?" He whirls to face the approaching form of his mother. She skids to her knees next to him, but the monk is already next to her, ready to hold her back if necessary.

Richard smiles radiantly, something distant in his gaze. Yue clings to his forearm and nods at him with a meek smile of her own.

Maybe I can give it back

"The duty of an ageless cycle," he breathes in a soft lilt, "Restoring balance to the world."

All of the visceral, foreboding, and protective feelings she'd tried to dam the past few days suddenly wash over her – she screams something incoherent and lunges for him, but the monk apprehends her before she can touch him. Too late, her son leans down and reaches his hands through the warm waters. They gingerly lie upon the black koi, and blinding white light erupts in the cavern; the white rhombuses of boy and fish burn an equal, frosty blue. The immense tug Richard had been experiencing, that had been burgeoning, especially since he entered the temple, alleviates on the spot. With an internal sigh of gushing relief, the feel of a great energy pulsating out of him and into the scaled creature beneath his clutches, he closes his eyes…

…and goes limp.

In her hysteria, his mother manages to fight off the monk in time to catch him before he hits the grass on his side. Inhuman moans and cries reverberate off the stone walls as she shifts, pulling him into her lap and hugging his head. With each second that lapses of unresponsiveness, the incantation of his name more shrill than the last, the monk's chest puckers sympathetically. By the time the rocking starts, he knows the final shred of her bearings has gone, and bowing his head, he silently slips out of the cavern to allow her privacy.

Had she been able to feel past her shock and woe, anger would have filtered through her veins. Anger stoked enough to swipe up the fish in the pond and rip them to shreds, anger that would provoke her to howl up curses to the pale blue moonlight bathing them in worthless pity. But all she can do it bear her teeth into his cooling forehead and press her nose into his scalp, her tears trailing like hot iron down his face. She moves back and forth with her face pressed from view, unable to see the reinvigorated black koi that resumes its eternal, circular dance with its white mate.

That is, until her shock gives way to outright horror when Richard's body dissolves in her grasp. Eyes bulging and mouth dropping slightly ajar, she's petrified in the cradling pose, watching him fizzle away into thousands of neon blue sparkles. Her brain blanks.

Then the sparkles fly away in a wisping cloud to solidify a foot away from her. They twirl and swirl until they create a diaphanous form outlined in the same cyan glow. When the figure is fully formed, he grins and outstretches his hand to her.

She gapes up at him.

"R-Richard?" she asks hoarsely.

He nods, and she numbly lifts her hand. He deftly pulls her to her shaking legs like he would whenever she would complain about getting old and order him to help her off the couch. Entranced, she studies him from head to toe; the sides of his head are shaved, the middle patch of hair pulled back into a ponytail. He's draped in odd, opulent robes that flow without wind, a never-ceasing, ethereal divinity adorning him.

She's barely taken it all in when he gathers her into a fierce hug.

He feels as warm and solid as ever, yet…

"What is this?" she stammers into his chest, "What happened to you?"

"Shh, shh, its alright Mom." She flinches at the difference in his voice. It sounds like him and the echo of another young man. He strokes her hair soothingly, as if he's aware of the reason behind her jump. "The worst is over. Now all…" his inhale stutters, "Now all will be made right."

His tone strikes something in her. Pulling away, she has his hands tight in hers. "No. no….Richard there is no way you're telling me…"

Richard cocks his head at her sadly. "I am."

Ever since the boy was born, she'd been feeling like she was living in the twilight zone. More than ever in this moment, she shouldered the weight of this burden. This terrible burden albeit her love for him. "Three times," she whispers.

"Three times?"

"You were taken away from me at birth. Then when you touched that fish." Her crestfallen stare meanders over to the brilliant pool where the koi make rings around each other. "And now…I have to give you up again."

Pain crosses his features, but he recovers with a reassuring smile and squeeze. "Look at me Mom."

She does so with difficulty.

"You know where I'll always be, even if you can't see me." A sagely grin. "And where there is life, there is water. Remember that there is life all around you, in you, and of you. Every time you drink, every time it snows, even when you cry." He releases one of her hands to rub a thumb under her eye. "In all that you do and in all that there is, there is water. And so, there I will be." He embraces her again with the same vice. "For now, she calls," he whispers into her ear.

There is no question as to whom. His mother clings to him desperately, his scent heady with fresh morning dew, mountainside creeks and spring showers. She wants to make an ill-timed comment about not being able to attend his wedding, opting not to when she realizes he's already been married to her – he's just returning home. "I love you, son."

"I love you Mom, I love all of you," he chokes back.

"I'll miss you so much."

"I will too. I'll be okay. I promise."

Letting her go before he's too undone to part, he drifts away, back into the beam of bluish moonlight. With one last lopsided smile that she returns with one less spirited, the transparency of his form fades –

-followed up by his ascension with rocket speed.

Richard sails through the high ceiling of the cavern, up through the floors of the temple, and finally into the blustering night sky. At once he is consumed with the levity of his new existence, and forgives himself for relinquishing the guilt he should be feeling by letting out a Peter Pan-like whoop. All he knows is a liberating propulsion through the air and he's aware that he isn't the only one feeling so relieved.

He closes his eyes, inhaling sharply:

This, oh this.

This was the pinnacle of the universe's plan for him coming to fruition.

Airy giggles bubble out of his throat as he feels the purge – all of the waters stripped of their impurities, like his escaping body is heaving it away. Richard locks onto the insurmountable feeling of accomplishment and pride and nobility, of lifted sorrow and fear. The extraction of pollution in the oceans and seas, the disease removed from the wells of so many impoverished nations, the trash decimated and cast out of harm's way for a plethora of the earth's creatures; he can feel the world stabilizing itself, on an evolutionary quickness to revitalization. To be whole.

To have a second chance.

Just when Richard senses the ph of the planet's waters balancing out for good, the echo of a conversation that took place seemingly ages ago rings in his head. The one with the distraught woman he'd just left behind for another.

He can't forget the spectrum of emotions that flitted across her face before she settled for that pained grimace and slapped him.

"Maybe it would've been better if I wasn't born, then!"

Thinking of it now, a part of him feels even more broken, deeper than his callousness and her grief at his departure. He is ashamed because, of course, had he not been born, the world would have ran itself into the ground. There would be less than nothing to save.

But he had no need to linger on abandoned possibilities of fate. Now, he only had tomorrow and eternity.

The divinized teen smirks fondly at the onslaught of all too familiar voices tailing his outburst, a montage of distant faces whizzing through his mind likewise to his physics-defying streak upwards; it would be the first for the world to see a vertical, land originated shooting star.

"You never told me you made out with the Moon Spirit." "Shh, I'm trying to watch!"

"She rules the sky with compassion and lunar goodness!"

"Our strength comes from the Spirit of the Moon. Our life comes from the Spirit of the Ocean."

"The spirits gave me a vision when Yue was born. I saw a beautiful, brave young woman become the Moon Spirit. I knew this day would come."

"My first girlfriend turned into the moon." "That's rough buddy"

"When love is real, it finds a way."

Blinking his eyes back open on that last sentiment, something within him wilts and ignites at the same time at seeing Yue, bathed in all her glory. She's beaming as he nears.

"He's just upset because a bunch of girls kicked his butt yesterday."

"Well I think you all look perfect!"

"Watch her head, Sokka! And if I catch you letting her play with my fans again, "space sword" won't be the only thing you lose!"

Slowing to a stop in front of her. Richard exhales smilingly. Had he still been human, a blush would have tinged his cheeks at the way she covered her mouth in amusement. "You know," she chimes, "I admit, the Kyoshi leader was a fitting consolation prize." Her mirth softens. "I'm glad you found happiness after all."

"Yue," he breathes.

It's all he can do not to knock them both out of the air with his next movement. Richard cups her face and guides her in for a heated kiss, his new body, as indestructible as it is, weakening the moment their lips connect. Yue molds into the kiss easily, naturally, ghostly hands tenderly encasing his. Silent tears slip from glacial eyes that flutter closed. Mortal trivialities like breathing no longer relevant, the blue and white orbs dangling under the constellations and above the Sanya sea don't have to pull back from their passion, don't have to stop, yet Richard eventually does to tug her into an unrelenting embrace. With the girl melting into him once again, he buries his face into her neck trying not to sob. His joy mingles with memories that flood to the forefront of his mind, of the fateful night he lost her. His broken heart for then and for the repeat of history has his fingers digging into her for dear life.

As astute as ever, Yue inherits it all.

"Sokka," she whimpers. "I told you I would always be with you."

They gravitate away, and she can't help but give a delighted smile. Richard had fulfilled his duty with the completion of the planet's purification. In junction, the visage of a young Water Tribe boy flickered in and out of Richard's appearance until the former warrior's face was sealed for good. The face of her favorite sarcastic, back-bending tactician.

"He's still in here, I can feel him." Sokka rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Is that supposed to happen?"

Yue laughs. "Even as one of us, you still question 'spirit mumbo jumbo'?"

"Hey, can you blame me? Its so weird to…" A dramatic pause, then a cupped whisper: "have another man inside me."

The Moon Spirit whacks him on the arm. "Oh come on Sokka, its not that bad. Richard is a hero, after all. And so are you. And do you know how hard it was, waiting this long to find someone so like you? Your character isn't exactly common."

Rubbing the offended arm, he opts for pomp instead of grumbles. "Like charming good looks and warrior's finesse?"

She rolls her eyes, yet backs the gesture with a good-natured expression. "Its great to have you back."

"Great to be back," he returns warmly. "I suppose since he brought us back together, it really isn't that bad." They kiss again, this time the reunion a lot less sober than before. "I love you," Sokka husks in the midst of their entangled affection.

"I love you too, Sokka."

Miles below, gripping the rails of the temple's rear walkway and winded from running, Richard's mother peers into the sky at a now benevolent, indigo moon hovering over the inky, lapping clean tides. She'd long missed his disappearance into the dark heavens; however, if she dared, she could imagine the Great Ocean Spirit cuddled in the clouds with a certain lunar princess. It gave her a stunted sort of peace, granted, but gratitude for what was had and lost – instead of what was never had at all – begins to swell in conviction in her soul. The journey to acceptance would be never-ending. Still…

Hair whipping in the breeze and salty spray slightly sprinkling her face, she sighs at the disk shedding pearly light over the bay. Richard's last words waft around her comfortingly, causing her to momentarily close her eyes, content to nuzzle into the elemental display of love.

"Goodbye," her threadbare voice carries into the night.

A star winks in response.

The End

This truly takes "pining for the moon" to a whole new extreme, doesn't it? Hah

WARNING! ONLY read the second half of "Fun Facts" AFTER you finish Season 1 through Season 3 EP 1 of Legend of Korra because of spoilers!

Fun Facts

It took me shy of 6 months to write this. Way too much, I know. But I assure you I do have a life.

The first song I mentioned in the beginning (Moondance) is the song that actually inspired all this. Yes, it's a baby-making song. No, I am not ashamed.

Yes, I did use your past and present videos as references. But rest assured, I didn't just watch them to write this. I also wanted to watch you and get to know you more. See you at your bare beginnings and all the CRINGE lol 3 (Thank you for correcting my spelling of your best friend's name in the live btw lol)

So you remember when you were live with Dante Basco and realized your audio wasn't recording? (Which, I am so sorry about, and don't mean to reopen wounds. I would have slapped myself). Well, coincidently, a few days before the live, I wrote the "All-Star" section. Wherein you don't realize that you're instead of merely recording. Lol.

I stalled a lot to write "Before the Dawn" because even thinking about it made me very emotional. Sure enough, as I wrote it, I cried periodically. Like big crybaby tears.

I am open to requests! If you want something action packed or steamy or funny or dark or a crossover or whatever, I'm down!

Second half (SPOILERS)

After you watch Beginnings part 1 and 2 of Book 2 of Legend of Korra, you will understand more that it isn't necessarily Aang within you/causing you to see the past in "Unleashed". It is the Ocean Spirit, yes, but also another one…

In "Of Monsters and Men", there are two extensions/advancements of waterbending/blooding you displayed that you may not have noticed while you were reading. One was that by being able to "read" the Jet-like character's memories, you were doing something akin to what Katara can do when she heals the mind and is able to see memories that traumatize the person to make them ill. The only difference in your case was that you could do it without close contact or handling actual water – a sort of hands-off blood bending form only the Ocean Spirit could do, in this story. You also weren't healing him, just able to see and sympathize. This ability segways into the next thing I wanted to mention. You read that your wrath caused you to involuntarily bloodbend the cop and there was a partial moon out. Had it been a full moon, and because you have a part of the Ocean Spirit inside of you, you would have been able to psychic bloodbend him – that is, not have to use your arms/hands to make b loodbending stances/poses/forms. You just would have been able to bloodbemd him by looking at him. This is the ability Yakone and Amon have in Legend of Korra.

Monk Laghima is named after Guru Laghima in Legend of Korra.