prompt three
restless

entitled: stolen, part two
summary: 003. She thought that no one would see her. But somehow he was able to find her in the dark. —IrohKorra. AU.
rating: T
disclaimer: I do not own.

Korra knew she shouldn't be near the bay.

But what was a birthday girl to do? The fireworks that shattered the sky near the shoreline just seemed like they were for her. Just this once, she thought. As a present to myself for turning twelve.

Korra swam, her glimmering fin propelling her to where the water became shallow and rocks jutted up from the ocean floor. It would be okay if it's here. No humans will see. She'll only stay for a while. Katara wouldn't even notice that she's missing.

She would just stay here, behind this rock, and no one will see her. But she will see the bombardment of dancing blues and scatter reds and falling yellows and every color in between, painting the night sky. And Korra would feel a part of something bigger than just ocean—she would feel a part of the sky.

From the corner of her eyes, she noticed the ship, like a lantern floating in the water, sailing towards the shore. Korra dipped low into the water as it passed the garden of rocks. Breathe, she thought calmly. There's no way they can see you.

But she could see them—tipsy and laughing, their voices a hum as the sky continued to thunder with pretty tints and vivid hues.

And then there was a splash, so faint that if Korra hadn't been studying the ship herself, she would have missed it entirely. Someone had fallen into the water.

No. Not 'fallen,' but dived. And whoever it was, was swimming towards her. But that was impossible.

One last look at the dancing sparks—and a bitter glare in the direction of the human—and Korra was off. She plummeted from the shallow to the deep and it was a matter of heartbeats before she was nearly off the coast.

Just out of curiosity—which Katara had deemed her worst trait because of how much trouble she got into because of it—Korra broke the surface to see how far the human had followed.

Katara was right about her curiosity. It was best friends with trouble.

Whoever had followed her was no longer swimming, but floating. Like a dead man.

It would have been easy for her to leave. No one would know. And as far as Korra knew, there were no tales of mermaids being prosecuted in the court of law. It was even her fault, really.

But her stupid conscience said it was.

And so she swam back.

It was a boy.

For a moment, Korra was captivated. The undersea temple that she lived in had very few mermen. And Korra had never seen a boy before. But then he looked older than a boy, he looked older than her, maybe—he is dying, Korra reminded herself.

As she slipped her arms around his waist, pulling him up against—stupid breasts—her, she swam to shallow waters beneath the empty dock, away from the fireworks and the ship. There was no way she was going to get caught because she decided to save some stupid boy, who, for the record, chased her on his own whim.

When Korra reached the dock, she finally realized what had given her away.

In the pitch blackness, her fin was practically glowing in the depths of the water. So that's what Katara had meant by 'your body is changing.'

Korra grumbled at the sucky timing as she pulled him onto the shore. She laid him gently on the sand and with her fin providing enough light to see, Korra checked the damage.

He wasn't breathing; his pulse was weak.

Korra straightened. She wished she had paid more attention to the healing lessons at the temple. Not that regret did very much for her now. Taking a deep breath, Korra unbuttoned his shirt. I may as well try, she mused, placing her hand firmly on his chest.

Korra glanced down to make sure she was still half-submerged in the water, before she began drawing her hand from his abdomen up to his throat. Come on, she willed, come on. She repeated the motion several times.

Falling into desperation, Korra was about to stop when his mouth opened and seawater floated into the air, falling onto the sand splayed around them. There was coughing. She should go now.

Korra was about to use her arms to push herself back into the water, when his hand moved, cloaked by the shadows, and caught her wrist.

Her panic allowed him time to push up from the sand and before Korra could pull away, she was trapped in his embrace. "Wait," he croaked, not entirely conscious, but strong enough to hold her.

Korra was about to scream, the shrillness tingling in her throat, when her fin lifted to beat against the water, and she saw the blood.

Her heart sank because she knew, there was just no way she could leave him.

"Please," she said in a whisper, "Let me help you."

His arms relaxed a little and with the strength she could muster, Korra pulled herself farther onshore. Her fin curved, brushing his legs, lighting up his face. He made no sound, but he did open his eyes—soft, golden irises—and gazed at her calmly His arms slipped down to her waist, fingers brushing slightly across her scales.

Korra focused on the wound.

It was a nasty gash near the top of his forehead. She hadn't noticed it before because they had been engulfed in water, but now, she saw the wet puddle, smelling of something metallic, splaying out around him.

It was a deep wound.

He had lost a lot of blood.

She could not save him.

Korra knew—tears welling up, a sob rising in her throat—that she did not have the ability to save him.

She should have just left him. At least then, she wouldn't have to live with the guilt of him dying in her arms.

It was her fault.

And just when things couldn't get any worst, Korra felt his hand—trembling and cold, but warm and comforting—on her cheek. He whispered, "Don't cry," with the softest, most knowing look on his face. His eyes told her 'it's not your fault.'

The tears ran hot down her cheeks as she pulled him to her—his head resting in the nape of her neck, the droplets falling onto his wound, the blood in his hair smearing her skin. "I'm so sorry," she choked out. "I'm just—I'm so sorry."

She shouldn't have come tonight.

It was over. She had to leave now. She had tried.

But as Korra kept telling herself these things, she wasn't planning on going anywhere.

Eventually, Korra laid him down, her neck wet with blood, her tears falling like steady rain. She curled up next to him—he was heartbreakingly silent—and closed her eyes.

It would be okay if it's here. No humans will see. She'll only stay for a while.

She laid restless, but having no desire to leave his side.

tbc.

endnote: Expect a 'part three.' (And sorry if it's cliché. I did my best to make something new of the whole mermaid-saves-human thing.)