Chapter 4- I'll Keep You Alive, if You Show Me The Way

"Maybe, just maybe, if I close my eyes the pain will all just go away."

.

He moved through the midnight streets with practiced ease, neither seen nor heard. It was much easier without the physical weapons he usually wore strapped to his back. His intended destination was nearby, though the journey took longer than he expected. The capital had been recently overrun with displaced citizens fleeing the conflict with the Earth King to the east. The streets, normally open and clean, were filled with the destitute. These Fire Nation men, women, and children had made a choice, flee the Earth Kingdom armies, or be killed: they had chosen a life of misery.

It had not been an overnight phenomenon of course. The last year had seen an increase in warfare between the two nations, the previous few months the worst of all. After one hundred years, the war finally showed signs of ending, though not without a bloody final battle. Rumors of the Fire Nation's armies once again reaching the great wall at Ba Sing Se were carried to the capital with the fleeing people. Most had once been colonists, ready to change the conquered towns and land and bring glory to their country.

The Earth Kingdom armies saw the potential for a strike of moral and exploited it, ravaging the new towns with every mile the encroaching Fire Nation advanced on the wall. It was no longer a fight of armies and soldiers; Fire Nation civilians were the newest target.

The shadow stepped over a sleeping man in the alleyway, pausing just long enough to cheek the street for passing patrols. The Fire Lord viewed his own citizens- at least the ones sleeping on the streets, as a plague. Anyone found on the street would be dealt with accordingly. Many ended up at The Arena to fight their way back to freedom with honor, but most of those men were killed. The prisoners from other countries had a much stronger will to live. The young man shook his head with the thought; it saddened him that his own people seemed to have nothing to live for.

A set of guards on their rounds sent the man ducking between two buildings and behind a bakery to avoid them. He was not in the mood to explain himself to a set of guards tonight. As he waited for them to move far enough along, he heard a soft moan from the corner he stood opposite of.

Normally he would have thought nothing of it, but whatever made the pathetic sound shifted into the light. He was met with big blue eyes glazed with exhaustion. Curiosity piqued, he moved closer and discovered a child. Her clothing was torn to rags; her hands and face were filthy. Though the Fire Nation's winter was warm, he noticed that she had no shoes and no blanket or cloak as the other street people had. She wore the color of his nation, but her eyes spoke of another parentage. They simply stared at each other for a moment.

The child held him captivated as she struggled to move away from him, deeper into her corner, wedged between a wooden crate for trash from the bakery and the wall. Her strength fled her, and she fell sideways. The young man immediately came closer and helped her up so she could sit, leaning against the stone wall. He could see her eyes struggling to focus.

His own needs could wait, this he knew; this child needed help, desperately. A child could not control his or her fate, their lives were handed to them with no say otherwise. He felt pity.

She was nothing but bones when he scooped her into his arms to carry her away. Avoiding the patrols was completely necessary now; he would never get the Fire Lord to understand why he was saving the 'filth and pollution of his fine city'. Luckily, his destination was just slightly out of the way of his original goal.

The orphanage in town was a decent building. Being the capital city, most of the children housed inside had part high-ranking or even noble blood in their veins, but neither parent could afford, be it politically or monetarily, to keep them openly. Even so, the building was well cared for and would give the child the best chance at moving forward.

The young man guessed that she could not have been more than six years old; she was so tiny. He thought to his youngest cousin, trying to remember when she had been this frail and could not. She had never been weak. He shook his head. Approaching the building from the back, the man passed under a still burning lantern high above the door. His shadow flew onto the wall behind him before he could kill the flame. His blue demon mask shone in the last spark of light. Luckily, no one was out to see.

The Blue Spirit peered into the window and paused. Rows and rows of bedrolls filled the dormitory room to capacity. The children nearest the windows had kicked off their covers. Their too large sleeping shirts embroidered with the symbol of the orphanage on the top left, dwarfed their scrawny bodies. They weren't starving as the girl in his arms was, but they weren't doing much better. It seemed the war had sucked even the orphanage's wealthy benefactors dry of excess coin.

The Blue Spirit made another mental note of more changes for the future and stood stone still with the child tucked in his arms. He pushed a matted lock of her brown hair away from his face as she snuggled into the crook on his neck. He felt the heat on her dark skin from fever. The young man had a choice to make; he could still deliver her here and be left to wonder if she even survived, or he could think of somewhere she would get the attention to heal.

Conveniently, he did not need to think too long for the answer. It was not the ideal solution, since he would be choosing a not-so-honorable path for the child, but at least she wouldn't die. The child's breathing was so shallow at times that if he didn't feel her breath against his neck every so often, he feared she had already left him.

Again, he took to the shadows and moved back the way he had come up the street. Finally, the building he had intended to find at the start of the night came into view. The sign read 'Spit-Fire' and the lights on the main floor were out. He knew any customers, aside from himself, would be upstairs at this hour, enjoying themselves the way only they could at such an establishment.

He moved silently to the back door and lifted a hand to knock. The door opened before he could touch it and the Blue Spirit came face to face with the medic who worked at The Arena. The middle-aged man recognized him for his fighting persona and gave him a sly look until he noticed the child balanced in his arms.

"I assume you're not here for the older girls then?" The doctor nodded at the child. The Blue Spirit was stunned. Whatever he had done in a past life, it must have been good for the solution to his problem to be standing right in front of him.

"She's dying."

"So why come here?" The doctor questioned. Even as he spoke, he set down his bag and motioned for the man to put the child on the step. The man under the mask wondered why the arena doctor would tend to the occupants in this building instead of one of the city doctors.

Before he could respond, the doctor placed two fingers at the girls' neck and instructed the man to stop him when he counted to ten.

He counted. The doctor nodded.

"She's starving and is hot with fever." The Blue Spirit already knew that. Anyone with eyes could see that. The doctor kept talking. "Her heart rate is slow, and the flow is incredibly weak. It's nothing some attention and good food won't cure. Though the fever concerns me, it's not much, but it might become serious if left untreated."

"Will you heal her?" asked the Blue Spirit.

"Why do you care so much for his child? She's too old to be yours." The doctor stated. His voice was not condescending; he was truthfully curious. While his identity was a secret, the Arena doctor was well connected.

"I'm not sure," the young man answered. And he wasn't sure; he had passed children on the street, sick, begging, and even dying. He'd never been compelled to save any of them. Not until now. He knew what his father would say about the encounter; he would go on with quotes about destiny and what not. The young man never truly thought about any of that until this moment.

"Take her," the Blue Spirit ordered, almost pleading. "Heal her. Maybe she can help you with your work. You'll work yourself to death alone old man."

"What's a little girl going to do to help me?" The doctor asked. The child opened her eyes slowly, struggling to regain consciousness as the voices spoke over her. She tried to focus, but the world blurred again and her eyes fell shut. She only saw one thing clearly: the mask of the blue spirit.

"Not only a girl, but a Water Tribe girl." The doctor sighed, watching her fall into her quasi state of consciousness. "She belongs to someone. She has to."

"Or she's a half-blood, a bastard. These were nice clothes at one point. It's not uncommon to kick half-bloods out if one parent dies or the household falls into ruin. I've seen it happen. Please, take her with you." The doctor sighed; looking down at the girl as she barely clung to life.

"I can't afford-"

The blue spirit pulled out a small pouch of coins, gold coins. The black outfit he wore was not the same one as he wore in The Arena. He needed pockets and the ability to switch back to his real self if in a jam without anyone putting the two personas together. He knew what a stir that would cause if anyone found out his true identity. News of the war was never enough for gossip in the upper echelons. The doctor took the pouch. His eyes widened at the sheer weight.

"How many women did you plan to go through tonight?"

The Blue Spirit ignored the comment. "Watch over her, this should be more than enough." He watched as the medic pocketed the gold and then lifted the child and his bag into his arms. When he walked down the street, the young man under the mask breathed out a sigh of relief and walked into the brothel with a clean conscience.

(Updated Author Notes)

If you're not a fan of the POV switching, there are only 3 other chapters like this. I only now noticed I've used them heavily in this front bit of the story, and no so much as it goes on. whoops.

(Original Author Notes)

Short chapter yes, But we get to see the world from our favorite arena fighter. Have any guesses as to who he is?

I think I might keep with this style of alternating Katara's POV with that of other characters in the story if you all like it and think it works.

Next chapter shall be up soon. As always, tell me how you think the story is going! :)

*The chapter titles comes from 'Give Me a Sign' by Breaking Benjamin.*