Disclaimer: Me no own, unfortunately.

In one's darkest hour, they say a light always appears at the end of the tunnel.

For Bolin, this light came in the form of a flame.

Cornered, thin, and defenseless; up against men thrice his size with years of surpassing experience. Bolin's earthbending was barely developed. Definitely nowhere near a level that would be able to save his life.

Which continued to dwindle as the weeks passed by. Without his brother's support and care, Bolin withered quite quickly. Just like I thought, a resentful voice inside his mind huffed. Weak.

And he certainly appeared so, whimpering and cowering amidst a downpour of freezing rain, waiting for the cackling hounds of death to descend upon him. The gangster's hand was reaching for his neck, so Bolin shut his eyes tight, wondering what Mom and Dad would say if they met each other again.

Unless he went where the bad people go, for abandoning his brother, even though his intentions had been good. The road to the bad place was paved with those.

Grabbed by the scruff of his neck, the firebender pinned him to the wall and lit his fist up with fire. It's flickering glare danced across Bolin's wide eyes, and the gangster smirked, relishing in his terror. "See this, squirt? This is what we do to rotten little street thieves like you."

To be fair, he hadn't intentionally meant to steal from this particular pair of hoodlums. The hunger had merely become too gnawing to ignore, and they were nearby. Now, as the gangster brought back his fiery fist and Bolin's only defense was to shield himself with his arm, he regretted that despair-driven decision. At least starving to death didn't burn like the bad place.

Bolin screamed as agony encased his arm. It hurt so, so bad, but he didn't dare move it, afraid to let the horrible heat touch his face. I don't want to die, he thought, as the fire receded and the man chuckled cruelly and reached for his neck again. Not like this, please, please, I want my brother, I want Mako, I want somebody, please—

Then the firebender leg go, abruptly, and Bolin released a wretched sob. As the pain began to lessen, and the cold rain soothed the scorching skin, he looked up to see why his would-be-murderer had spared him unanticipatedly.

That's when he saw him. He stood tall, dark, foreboding and wrathful; an angel of death drenched in the downpour of the storm. Bolin's heart seized in his chest at the sight, but the abstract fear he felt was nothing compared to the two benders who'd been about to maim a defenseless child.

But their distress was completely plausible. This person, whomever he was, didn't look like the type to show mercy.

And though Bolin was grateful for being saved, he couldn't help but wince at each blow, almost pitying the firebender and his cohort. Almost. At least the man decided to let them live, even if they were too beaten to appreciate it.

Following their quick defeat, Bolin waited for the stranger to take his leave. Waited to be left alone to tend to his wounds. Instead, the stranger slowly turned towards him, and Bolin's breath caught in his throat when he saw that the man was wearing a mask.

The masked man stretched out a hand towards Bolin, as if attempting to assess his injury. He had saved him, yes, but Bolin was still scared and retreated backwards, wary of the stranger. The masked man gently retracted his arm.

"It's alright," he promised quietly, obscured by the shadows. He spoke without a waver of dishonesty. "These foul opressors are no longer a threat. You are safe now."

Impressed as he was by the stranger's skills, Bolin didn't really agree. There were a million possible foes willing to hurt him in this city, this man included. Even so, even after being taught so diligently in the art of distrust and self-preservation, Bolin was drawn towards the masked man and his wishful promises. However, that didn't mean he was ready to emerge from his shell just yet.

Even after a long moment of silence, the masked man didn't move. Neither did Bolin. He gazed at the man in silence, and though he couldn't really tell with the mask, he swore he could sense another pair of eyes staring back. The sound of rain dominated the alleyway without either of them daring to speak.

Until Bolin's childish curiosity got the best of him, urging him to ask the quiet question,

"Are you all alone?"

It was a question borne from the remaining innocence he clung to. For all he had seen and went through in his short amount of years spent on earth, Bolin still couldn't fathom anything quite so painful as loneliness. Perhaps he had much yet to learn.

Or perhaps he already knew too much.

Slowly, the stranger nodded.

Bolin softened sympathetically. "Me, too."

Funny. He hadn't expected any sort of answer to the curious inquiry, not really. The words just flew from his mouth unbidden—a frightful habit of his. Then again, Bolin was having trouble believing he was even alive at this point, so the masked man's decision to respond may not have been the oddest thing to have happened tonight.

When he actually spoke, though, Bolin tensed

"The rain doesn't seem to be stopping." The masked man's statement was composed matter-of-factly. "You should seek shelter elsewhere, lest you become ill."

Shrugging helplessly, Bolin curled in on himself further, feeling the cold now worse than ever. He winced, mindful of his throbbing arm. "I don't have anywhere else to go," was his meek excuse.

He nearly startled out of his own skin when the man bent down to eye level. Now Bolin truly was trapped. At this proximity, the masked could do whatever he wished. Strangle him, thrash him, knock him unconscious and carry him to some horrible place against his will. And Bolin would have no choice but to accept his fate.

Instead, the stranger spoke in a voice that proved sturdy enough to steady the erratic beat of his heart.

"Then come with me."

This time, when the hand extended to him came forth, Bolin joined it with his own.

Next chapter will finally be set in the present day. Please, please review, for they keep me writing!