Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Bolin

Officer Huang

You're an orphan and have been for a long time. In fact, there really hasn't been a time when you remember not being an orphan. You're nine—almost ten.

You have an older brother. He's twelve. He's not just your older brother—he's your father and your mother. He would do anything in the world for you, and you don't know that just because he tells you so. You know it because…you just know. He was the one who made you leave the orphanage and its small, but warm beds and three-times-a-day meals because he didn't like that different people wanted to adopt you; he didn't want to never see you again. He's the one that tells you it's wrong to steal, but then steals food when you don't stop telling him you're hungry. He even gives you his share even though he needs food just as much as you do. He's the one that stays awake whenever you spend the night under the bridge with other homeless people and runaways, palms ready to bend fire because he doesn't trust the other sleeping bodies. He's the one that runs numbers for The Triple Threat Triads. And even when you get in trouble, he's the one that fights your battles. Even when the other guys are bigger. Even when he loses. Even when he struggles to get back on his feet after they beat him up and run away.

It's you and him. And it's not so bad.

Except…it has been bad lately.

It's almost the end of winter, that time when Republic City sees more snowfalls than usual. It's been a little harder to get food lately. Harder than how it was this time last year. And now that the Pro-bending season is over, Lighting Bolt Zolt doesn't always need your brother to run numbers for him.

There's always been a job your older brother can do for awhile, maybe something involving firebending the Satomobile factory. He doesn't like the pay, but it's steady enough, and you both got new blankets out of it. But the guy who hired him a year ago left and now there's Hao. Hao, a Metalbender with gray hair and gray pupils, says he's only looking for kids at least thirteen-years-old. And somehow he can tell someone's age just by closing his eyes and listening to them talk—when you ask him how, he says his ears are just as good as Old Chief Beifong's…he can hear a person's vocal chords and can tell when they're not developed yet.

There's no way to prove this. And it's creepy. But there's nothing your brother can do. Except scheme.

And steal.

And it's easy to do both because with the falling snow and cold, the vendors have come out and their carts and grills dot the streets. Those old men, huddled in their coats with their hands hovering over their hot grills, aren't paying attention to the little kids darting around under the awning over store shops or that big tarp where the open marketplace takes place on weekends. And in the confusion of those small, eager hands grabbing those pieces of greasy food and disgruntled patrons, it's hard for them to remember to call for the police.

That doesn't mean that you can't get caught. Sometimes another kid will tip a cart, but will mess up and then make it hard for you to tip a cart because now all the vendors are paying closer attention. And the police station is close to the marketplace: sometimes they do catch you and keep you in the station and then take you to the orphanage. You've heard about kids who go back and run away again or can't run away and are like, stuck there. But in spite the risks, it's a solution, a quick one that can work better than waiting or starving or walking around in the cold for food elsewhere. And it's a sure fire plan.

So you and your brother are in the marketplace because it's crowded enough and most of the cobblestones are loose, and your brother says you can choose what you both eat: noodles, kebobs, roasted nuts, dried lychee, or dumplings.

Even though dumplings are your favorite, you pick steamed buns. Because they're big, and the man who's cooking them is a grandpa, the color of a dried apricot with huge stomach and a shock of gray-white hair, hunchbacked and bundled in a thick coat, and settled on a high stool. He's practically sleeping.

You earthbend. It's easy to overturn the particular cobblestone you're focused on and even though you did too much and pulled out the small rectangular brick and broke one of the cart's legs, you did what you wanted to do. Charcoal, kung-pao boxes, and the containers of water and grease fall; the bowl full of cooked buns spills, sending some of those little pork-filled balls to the ground. And there goes your brother running to make the steal, leaving you to follow after, his scarf flapping in the wind and hands scooping up the food and holding it close to his chest. The yells of the old man already sound far away. Your stomach grumbles because it knows you're almost free and fed—no one's chasing after you; the bodies you bump into are like a colorful blur; and your stomach is growling and your heart is beating like a drum.

And then the fun all stops.

A policeman appears out of nowhere, a rock in a receding sea of people. And yeah, he's a big guy in that suit, so maybe that's why your brother stops in his tracks and trips ,sending your food everywhere. And even though you're right beside him, yelling at him to get up and snap out of it because the buns are gone, he doesn't snap out of it—he's frozen in place; his eyes are wide and his mouth is gaping open a little like a fish.

And now there's more yelling. That old man has actually hobbled over—red in his wrinkled face trying to get the policeman's attention. Waving his hands and screaming because he thought you were going to get away. You're the brats that broke his cart and now he can't make anymore money and you should be arrested because you're a nuisance like all the other urchins and beggars of Republic City.

The policeman moves. He grabs your brother's shirt, dragging his feet along the ground. And he grabs your arm to keep you from running away too, but you're not going anywhere. How can you when there's no one else in the world that can take care of you like he can?

Your brother is still staring at the officer. Stricken. And that's when you finally sort of realize that this policeman looks like the memory of someone long ago: your father. You don't remember a lot about your father because you've been without him for so long…but sometimes when you dream, you can imagine how you think he looked like. That part of you that knows somehow sees him built like an Earthbender even though he was Firebender; in your memories, he's a giant with broad shoulders and strong arms that used to spin you around until your feet stopped touching the ground…your brother says you look a lot like him, minus your eyes.

That grandpa is still yelling.

"…Stay here." The policeman's voice is deep, like the sound of thunder coming from far away. He lets your arm and your brother's shirt go and walks over to the man, his boots crunching in the snow. You know how easy it would be for him to catch you in the dense crowd of people watching you or trying to get around you, but don't leave because your older brother doesn't.

"…I understand your concerns… Were you able to find another policeman to assist you? Okay…would you like to take a statement? Okay." He's pulled out a notepad and a pen and is nodding his head now, listening to the old man. "Is that cart your own? Well I ask only because I believe you're entitled to slight compensation for you're cart." He's staring back at you and your brother, watching to see if you run away. "Hmm…I'm not entirely sure, but I believe they still will provide compensation, although the amount will be smaller because it is your material. Yes," he laughs, "it is strange to hear that in this day and age. You should file a report with them as well…I understand…"

The man walks back to you and grabs your arm again. And he promises in that deep voice of his that he's going to turn you in to the station. You're forced to move and you look down at your footsteps to make sure you don't slip as you're carried towards City Hall. You see your shoe step on piece of your lost, stolen meal, and the bit of beef and sauce that oozes out of its center.

Streets and shops pass you by. You're expecting to see the police station any minute now, and a cell where other kids say they're kept, and eventually the orphanage.

You're not expecting him to drop your arm the moment you're far enough away from the marketplace. He turns to stare at you and you feel like you've become a puzzle he's trying to figure out. Your eyes roam to avoid his gaze but you can only look at his gray uniform. His badge says his name is "Ji Huang." "…What are your names?"

Your brother doesn't speak…you answer for the two of you.

He gives that see-through-stare to your brother. "He's older."

Yes.

You're not expecting him to crouch down slightly and become eye-to-eye with your brother. You're not expecting him to stare for so long. "You seem like a smart young man. So why did you do something so stupid?"

He doesn't answer, just blinks and furrows his brow and swallows.

Office Huang is still waiting for your brother's answer.

But you speak up without meaning to or really saying anything; the sound of your stomach is loud and angry and desperate.

Officer Huang hears the sound, of course. But he doesn't ask another question. He just straightens up with a quiet grunt until he's tall and an adult and your small and a kid again.

"Come with me." He turns away from you and starts walking away. He's not going towards the station anymore.

…Your brother follows. And you follow your brother.

You're led to a fast food place, a small-ish place with a multitude of booths separated by simple but pretty paper walls, semi-low lights and a candle placed in the midst of sauces and toothpick and napkin holders on the smooth wooden table tops. At Officer Huang's direction, you sit in the first booth on the right and you accept the menus he hands to you. He talks to the waitress that comes to take your order in an easy, familiar way full of laughter and jokes. He orders tea for himself and hot chocolate for you two.

"Pick anything you want."

You stare at your brother for a beat, but when he doesn't say anything or pull his gaze away from Office Huang, you don't hesitate. You order the large order of dumplings, imagining how it will look exactly like the picture when it comes. Officer Huang orders noodles for himself, Water Tribe style, and 3 buns for your brother.

The waitress comes with the drinks and takes your orders. You're already done with your hot chocolate when the food comes.

You don't hold back, but you stare at your brother. He's not eating. He just stares at Officer Huang…and Officer Huang is breaking up his chopsticks, but he's also staring back.

"…Why are you doing this?" Your brother suddenly growls out the question. Compared to the officer, his voice doesn't sound quite as deep as the officer. "Why did you bring us here and not to the station like you told that guy you would?" Your brother's fist slams against the table, making the plain white plates shake.

"...Because you were hungry, correct? Both of you were hungry. That's why you stole the food."

Your brother's hard look softens ever so slightly. "…Why else?"

Officer Huang drops his chopsticks and intertwines his fingers, to really think about the question. He thinks. "...You have no home, yes?" He takes your brother's silence as a confirmation. "You have him," the policeman points at you, "and he has you… I did it because…because I get it… and you're good kids. And you seem like a smart boy—someone who knows what's right and wrong."

Your brother stops glaring at him.

The policeman hunches forward and stares at the bowl of steaming noodles. And his brow is wrinkled, like he's trying to figure out how to answer. "And life is hard…I can understand that, even without knowing your story…" Officer Huang sighs and lifts his eyes and stares around, as if the answer is in the air itself. "I…guess I did it because I understand how hard it is not to do the right thing sometimes. How sometimes it's necessary to do wrong especially when you have to do it for the sake of someone else. But even though it's hard and doing bad things can be necessary, you have to remember not to get caught up.

"A lot of kids that do what you did today; they get caught up without realizing it. But one day, a very small chance for you not to get caught up anymore can and will come along. And you have to see it and take it like I did. I saw my chance to wear this uniform, and I took it.

"…Maybe I would have done this for another pair of kids running with stolen food today, but I think it's good that I did it for you. Because I can tell you still realize how important it is to not get caught up. And that you'd understand if someone told you."

"Do you understand?"

...Your brother nods slowly.

Officer Huang nods again, satisfied with his words. He picks up his chopsticks again and gathers more noodles. "Okay. Eat your lunch."

And he does.

One thing that I haven't quite understood since the first episode of this season is why Mako is a policeman and no longer a pro-Bender. He had talent as the latter; I'm sure it wasn't a storyline that…weakened with the end of the first season. So I created this story and I made up Officer Huang. This ficclet is much like "Numbers" and "Numbers II" that I wrote for the last SORGGB, but I thought it would be better to have this in Bolin's perspective (especially since what they've got him doing doesn't bring me any kind of inspiration). I hope to explore Mako's change once more, but we shall see.

R&R. Giving feedback inspires me to write faster.