A/N: This chapter was so hard for me to write. I'm really sorry it took so long. To be honest, I'm not completely satisfied and it might go through a rewrite but we'll see.
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.
Update 1/21/2012: Some really odd grammar mistakes have been fixed. If you spot any more, don't be afraid to tell me :D
Chapter Seventeen: Burden
Right after her father died, Iriah changed. Revenge was all she could think of and she'd never wanted anything so badly in her life. When her mother passed away due to shock, Iriah doggedly pursued any lead, the smallest of clues in order to hunt down her father's killers. After many interviews, after hours of needling information through bribes and blackmail, the day finally came when Iriah stood outside the doorstep of her father's killer. One night, nearly two hours after a mysterious figure was seen entering the building, the whole residence suddenly exploded in a powerful burst of flames. The police deemed it to be an unfortunate gas leak and Iriah escaped without notice.
If Iriah had ever thought that vengeance would be the end of it all, she was sorely mistaken. In an almost dreamlike stupor, she joined a traveling circus, planning to escape. She did manage to leave the city behind but the memories were forever her burden to bear. Although she never told anyone – not even Bing Su – Iriah suffered nightmares that revolved around the final moments of the now deceased assassin and also her father's life.
Despite everything, life went on. As each day passed, the blessing that was meant to be her legacy soon dragged along into a daily curse, something she neither had the will to harness or abandon. Life was a constant cycle of fear. Iriah lived in constant terror of being caught, of losing another loved one, and – though she tried to ignore it – the fear of killing someone again.
Why? It was a question she had asked – had actually screamed hysterically – at the assassin before ending his existence. Why did you do it?
Leaning against the alley wall, every inch of her body screaming in agony, she asked herself the same question. Why? Why? Why?
Iriah slumped to the ground, unable to stand any longer. The pain, the burns, the fatigue… it was too unbearable. Her skin felt like it was literally peeling off body in curls of blackened flesh. Whimpers that might have belonged to a wounded animal slipped from her lips in the dark alleyway that was now void of anyone except the two remaining firebenders lying on their backs, weak and alone.
Why? Iriah asked herself again, her vision blurring from the intense agony as she stared at Mako who was lying next to her on the ground. Why did you do it?
Her breathing was ragged, half-heaving half-gasping for oxygen. Her lungs seared as she sucked in gulps of air and the pungent smell of her charred hair. In the distance, Iriah thought she heard voices but couldn't be sure. All the while, her body stung, shivering violently. Her heart thudded frantically as her mind tried desperately to stay awake, aware of all the pain.
Why? You don't even know him…
Mako was lying where she'd left him. It was nearly impossible to tell whether he was still breathing or not. Using what felt like the last vestiges of her energy, she slowly reached over but her body wouldn't follow. She didn't even have enough strength to crawl. Instead she dropped her hand on top of Mako's outstretched arm, wondering if she could feel his pulse or if her singed fingertips were no longer capable of sensing anything.
It was a strange feeling to be in this situation again. After nearly a year, Iriah was back in the dark, trapped between life and death with one major difference. Her father wasn't here to save her again. No one was. So why had she risked her own life to save this boy she barely knew? Why not run, get help, something – anything – but this?
Iriah's fingers closed around Mako's hand and she realized the answer even as she closed her eyes, her senses slowly dimming to the surroundings around her. Soon the darkness was not that of natural night but her own vision failing. And yet Iriah did not let go of Mako's hand.
Iriah thought back to a few days ago when she had found Mako crouched near her dresser in her caravan. She'd lost herself then, attacking the boy without rationalizing, acting before thinking. For one crazy moment, she'd mistaken Mako for none other than her dead father. The pro bending uniform he'd been wearing was actually her father's, something she'd donated to the circus as a costume upon first joining. It hadn't been the mere sight of her father's uniform though. Mako, with his tall, lean physique, was very much like her dead father.
Even tonight when she was faced with the choice of running and saving her own life or staying to protect that of a stranger's, the memories of that horrifying night in the alley seemed to impose itself on her subconscious and replay the image of a father begging for his daughter's life. Iriah regretted leaving him there, regretted surviving when in the end she'd lost her whole family, left with nothing but a thirst for vengeance. Even during her obsessive pursuit of the murderers, Iriah had harbored a sense of acute guilt at abandoning her father, for not trying to free him even as he had told her to run. His last words echoed in her mind now, taunting her.
I'll always protect you, Iriah…
The voices were growing louder around her but Iriah couldn't see anything. Eyelids too heavy to lift, she lay very still on the ground, holding Mako's hand. As she slipped into blissful nothingness, the sounds fading to a muted mumble around her, Iriah pretended for a brief moment that the hand she was holding was really her father's.
Light. Mako felt it, seeping in under his eyelids, into the very cracks of his dormant mind before he actually saw it. A minute trickled past before he realized he could open his eyes, that they weren't glued shut though it certainly felt that way. They were unusually heavy as though weighed down with coins.
"Mako?" a familiar voice spoke very near him but the light was so bright it temporarily blinded him.
"MAKO!"
Before his eyes had fully adjusted to the glaring morning sunlight streaming through the window, Mako felt someone tackle him, pressing him into the mattress he was lying on and squeezing him in a tight hug.
"Mako, thank the spirits! You're awake!"
It was a moment before Mako could gather his wits and recognize who was nearly strangling him in a suffocating embrace.
"B-bolin…" Mako managed to choke out as Bolin finally released him.
Bolin looked terrible. With dark bags under his eyes, disheveled hair, and a heavily bandaged shoulder, Mako's younger brother could've passed for a war veteran recovering from a recent battle. His downtrodden appearance did nothing to diminish his delight in seeing Mako up and well again, however, and Mako couldn't help but return an uncharacteristically goofy grin.
The room they were in was obviously the only medical ward in Shin Ren Town. Mako recognized it from many years ago when he was called to fix a troublesome fan that kept sputtering to a halt in the middle of a particularly sweltering summer. The fan was no longer there but the frayed wallpaper and the thin curtains were all the same, as was the strong scent of disinfectant.
"Wait til Mom hears you've finally woken up! She was here a couple hours ago but she had to go home to look after Min and Mireu. They wanted to come too but Mom said they were too young and -"
"Wait, wait, slow down, Bolin. Mom was here?" Mako interjected.
"Well of course she was, bro, she was all ballistic when she first found out about all this!"
"When did she find out? How long have I been out then?"
Bolin hesitated for a second, his expression changing from giddy joy to slight discomfort. Mako could hardly miss this but said nothing, waiting for his brother to respond.
"Umm… well, in total you were out for about three days," answered Bolin, speaking cautiously. "The doctor here was a bit worried you wouldn't wake up, you know. Thought you'd stopped breathing for too long and it might've damaged your brain…" He trailed off, unable to meet Mako's eyes as though afraid his previously comatose brother might start displaying signs of brain malfunction.
"Three whole days…" repeated Mako slowly. It was a strange feeling to discover he had missed 72 hours of his life. "Three days… He was choking me and then… I blacked out." Suddenly remembering something, Mako looked down at his hand. A couple of scratches and slight burns where he'd failed to completely block Yongzheng's attacks were all that were left of the previous week's fight. Strangely, a nagging sensation told him something was missing, almost as if he'd holding an object but had dropped it during his sleep.
"What happened?" asked Mako.
Bolin shifted uncomfortably again. His expression was now gloomier than before and Mako felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, a creeping foreboding crawling underneath his skin.
"Bolin, what happened?" Mako repeated, a hand on his brother's arm.
Bolin jumped a little at the touch and looked up to meet his brother's eyes. Mako thought he saw something in the green depths. Usually he could read his brother better than anyone but this time he couldn't be sure. Was it pity? Fear? Sadness?
"It was…" Bolin trailed away, but then cleared his throat and continued, "I-Iriah. She saved you. Bing Su and some of the townspeople found you in the alley and brought you both here."
"Iriah saved me?" Mako couldn't keep the surprise from his voice. "Well then, where is she? Is she okay?"
Bolin shook his head, his eyes never leaving Mako's, and still Mako couldn't read them. What was it that Bolin was hiding?
"Bolin, I want to know. Where is she?"
Bolin sighed slowly, letting out a deep breath, something that sounded a lot like resignation. Mako was starting to get annoyed. He had half a mind to snap at his brother to tell him where Iriah was and if he could speak to her, when his brother spoke up and the words died on Mako's tongue.
"She was injured when they brought her in, Mako. More than half her body was severely burned," said Bolin, his voice heavy yet surprisingly steady.
Mako's throat was now paper-dry, beads of cold sweat forming on his brow at this devastating news.
"When can I say see her?" asked Mako cautiously, afraid his voice might crack.
"You don't get it, bro," said Bolin quietly. "Yesterday was her funeral."
A few days later, the sky was a clear blue, the sun bright and high overhead. People were enjoying the good weather which was neither too hot nor too humid. Some families were taking the day off to picnic up in the nearby mountains, the children playing happily in the streams while the parents rested in the shade of pine trees.
Higher in the mountains was a graveyard, its grounds cordoned off by a fence of barbed wire and a rusted metal gate. Two teenaged boys holding a bottle of spirits and white flowers were picking their way through the overgrown weeds in the communal cemetary, heading slowly over to a grave marked by a headstone engraved with vertical lines of calligraphy.
Both were dressed similarly in thin long sleeves and baggy pants. The taller of the two was wearing a thin scarf, underneath which faded burn marks and bruises were just barely visible. The shorter stockier teenager held a neat bouquet of white flowers clutched in his hands, his green eyes filled with sorrow as he as he contemplated the headstone in silence.
There was a small wooden table set out in front of the headstone. After setting their meager offerings on the narrow space, the older boy lit a few sticks of incense by gently rubbing the tips with forefinger and thumb. Soon thin streamers of smoke rose from the incense and the boy placed them carefully in an incense stand next to the small table, bowing his head in respect.
The green-eyed boy pulled out a simple cup from his pocket and nodded to his older brother who picked up the small bottle of spirits, easily breaking the stoppered seal. He then poured a generous measure into the cup, watching the liquid sparkle in the sunlight as it filled. Holding the cup carefully in both hands, the green-eyed boy slowly drew circles with the cup over the table, over the innocent white flowers and the incense.
Birds chirped cheerfully nearby as the two teenagers bowed low, kneeling in front of the headstone, their foreheads and hands brushing the earth. Neither talked, their eyes closed as they paid their respects in silence. Clouds drifted lazily up ahead and a slight wind distorted the straight line of smoke issuing from the incense sticks over the boys' heads.
At long last, the two teenaged boys stood up, bowed once more, and then packed up the bottle and cup, the taller boy lighting another incense stick before turning his back to follow his brother out of the graveyard.
The sky was a clear blue, the sun bright and high overhead. It was a terribly beautiful morning.
Thanks for reading so far :) I'll be updating with the final chapter soon (I hope).