Chapter Text
It had been a quiet afternoon at Republic City Hospital. Kya’s shift had begun right after lunch, and so far, it had been uneventful. A few broken bones, a minor burn, nothing out of the ordinary. Her only major task for the day was a surgery, but that was only scheduled hours later, which had left her enough time to finally go through that stack of files piled on the unit’s desk.
It had been quiet, slow, in a way that was almost peaceful. That was, until the world outside erupted into chaos.
The first explosion was a distant boom, one that echoed through the city. Kya froze for a moment, and turned towards the window, watching as a cloud of dark smoke curled into the sky from in-between the city’s many skyscrapers. She got up to take a closer look, as did the other healers present in the room. They all looked at each other in confusion, unsure of what was happening.
Then, there was a second explosion, closer by, shaking the hospital’s walls and rattling the windows.
The next sound was worse; the wailing blare of the city’s airhorn system. It was haunting, and loud.
Kya knew then that something was wrong.
Every possible scenario raced through her mind as she moved quickly through the hospital’s many corridors, her footsteps tapping rapidly against the polished floors, her heart pounding in her chest. Was this an accident? A gas line explosion? Or something worse?
She began descending the stairs two at a time. The muffled chaos from the emergency healing unit grew louder with every step, distant sounds of shouting echoing off the tiled walls. Kya’s years of experience had trained her to expect the worst, but not knowing what was ahead still left a knot in her stomach.
Turning a corner, she watched as the unit’s double doors swung open, a rush of activity spilling out: nurses shouting orders, healers gathering their tools, and a wave of bloodied and soot-covered victims limping inside.
Kya clenched her jaw, and took a deep breath, bracing herself.
“What is going on?” she asked, announcing her presence.
Several healers turned toward her, relief filling their expressions at seeing a master healer present in this chaos. One of the younger ones hurried over, her face pale.
“Master Kya, thank the spirits you’re here. The city is under attack. Explosions everywhere. We don’t know who’s behind it, but the streets are chaos. The injured are coming in waves, and it’s only going to get worse.”
Kya took a short moment to gather her thoughts. Eventually, her lips pressed into a tight line, and she nodded. There was no time to waste.
“All right, let’s get to work. Prioritize severe trauma and stabilize what we can. I’ll take the worst cases.”
Kya followed the healer inside the emergency unit. The main room was already filled with patients, some lying on stretchers, others propped against walls or slumped in chairs, clutching their injuries. The moans of pain and hushed cries filled the space as healers and nurses darted between the victims, their hands glowing as they bent water to close any wounds they could get to. The faint scent of antiseptic, together with the metallic smell of blood hung in the air. It was a nauseating scene.
Kya’s gaze swept over the room, quickly cataloging injuries: burns, cuts, and many signs of internal trauma.
She rolled up her sleeves.
“Let’s move!” she barked. “We’re not losing anyone today!”
Not wasting another moment, she stepped toward the nearest stretcher, where a young woman lay unconscious, her chest rising in shallow bursts. The battle was just beginning, and she would face it with everything she had.
She continued to issue orders between treatments, coordinating the growing team of nurses and healers who had streamed in from other parts of the hospital. The flood of injured civilians seemed relentless. Stretchers continued to arrive, one after the other, carried by exhausted first responders or frantic family members. Some patients stumbled in on their own, faces bloodied and bodies covered in soot, while others were not able to move at all.
Kya’s heart stung at the sight of a young boy with a gaping leg wound, his parents clutching each other in silent terror. She bent low, water swirling around her hands as she worked quickly to stop the bleeding, murmuring reassurances that sounded stronger than she felt.
Slowly, news from the outside filtered in. There had been more explosions, it seemed. Multiple attacks across the city, back to back. The airhorns hadn’t stopped wailing, not for a single moment.
But despite the pressure, they maintained control. The protocols Kya had helped develop for mass casualty situations like this one were holding, and the team was functioning well. The nurses were moving smoothly, junior healers were stabilizing the moderately injured, and the most critical cases were being directed towards her. Additionally, two more master healers had arrived in the meantime, and she was grateful for the reinforcements, their presence lifting some of the weight off her shoulders. At least now, she didn’t have to carry the responsibility alone.
It was far from perfect, but it was controlled chaos, and Kya could see that lives were being saved. She felt determined, and hopeful, that they’d be able to make it through.
She finished stabilizing an elderly man with severe burns and straightened, taking a moment to catch her breath. The worst of it had to be over now. Surely, they were past the peak.
But as Kya turned toward the double doors, where loud shouting was suddenly heard, they burst open again. Two metalbending officers rushed inside, carrying none other than Lin Beifong on a stretcher.
Kya’s blood ran cold.
Lin’s uniform was shredded, her chest heaving in shallow, labored breaths. Blood soaked through the makeshift bandages wrapped around her torso, pooling beneath her on the stretcher. Her face was pale, etched with pain.
“She’s losing blood fast!” one of the officers shouted. “She took a hit from a combustion bender, shrapnel everywhere–”
But Kya didn’t hear the rest. The words faded into static as her gaze locked onto the stretcher where Lin lay, motionless, wounded, covered in blood. Her blood.
For one heart-stopping moment, all Kya could do was stare, frozen by the sight. Shock gripped her, her mind screaming at her to do something. Then, like water bursting through a dam, the healer’s instincts surged forward, shoving her emotions into the background. There was no time to panic.
“Over here!” she barked as she pointed toward one of the trauma rooms off to the side. “Get her into the room now! Move!”
The officers didn’t hesitate, immediately following her orders.
The separate trauma room was quieter, more controlled, better suited for someone in Lin’s condition. It also kept prying eyes away; Kya knew how quickly rumors could spread, and Lin’s position demanded discretion.
As soon as they entered, the stretcher was carefully set down. Kya drew water from the sterilized healing channels lining the walls and kneeled by Lin’s side. Her hands began hovering over the worst of the wounds. Three other healers—an older woman and two younger waterbenders—took positions around her.
“Steady her,” Kya ordered.
One of the younger healers placed both of her hands on Lin’s temples, a soft glow spreading as she worked to ease the pain and keep Lin from slipping into shock.
“Massive internal bleeding,” Kya said, her eyes narrowing in focus.
Her hands moved in circular motions, guiding the glowing water as it flowed over Lin’s chest, stomach and abdomen, revealing sharp metal fragments lodged near her heart, ribs and stomach.
“We need to get the shrapnel out before I can start deep tissue repair.”
She drew clean water from the channels, her breathing slowing as she focused. “It’s gonna be okay, Lin,” she murmured, her voice low enough that only Lin could hear. “Just hold on, okay? Just hold on.”
Lin didn’t respond, her head lolling to the side. Kya clenched her jaw, forcing down the fear threatening to creep back in. She couldn’t let it control her. Not now.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she began the delicate work of saving Lin.
“Maru,” she commanded, “sterilized forceps, now.”
The older healer handed Kya the tool, and the other younger healer extended water to clean the area around the wounds. Kya pushed the forceps into the glow of the water, gently gripping one of the larger pieces of metal. Lin groaned, her body twitching in pain, and Kya felt her lose consciousness.
With careful precision, she pulled it free, dropping it into a metal bowl beside her with a sharp clang. Blood welled up immediately, staining the water red as it spilled onto the table.
“Compress,” Kya barked, and Maru pressed her glowing hands to the site, trying to slow the flow.
But no matter how quickly they worked, the blood loss was relentless.
“Her vitals are dropping!” one of the younger healers called out, their hands still glowing against Lin’s head.
“Shit,” Kya hissed under her breath. “Come on, Lin,” she murmured. “Don’t you dare leave me now.”
“She’s losing too much too fast,” one of the other healers said.
“I know,” Kya snapped, her tone sharper than she intended, but she didn’t have time for reassurance.
She found another piece, this one dangerously close to Lin’s heart. Her hands trembled as she maneuvered the water, surrounding the metal fragment before easing it free. Blood gushed from the wound despite her efforts, and she pressed her glowing hands over it, trying desperately to close the torn tissue.
“Shit,” she muttered again. “Stay with me, Lin.”
The room felt smaller, heavier, the walls closing in as each passing second brought another failure. For every wound they closed, another seemed to open. The blood soaked through the linens beneath Lin, pooling on the floor.
“She’s tachycardic,” said the healer near her head. “Her heart rate’s spiking.”
Kya didn’t need the warning. She could feel it, she could feel the faint flicker of Lin’s chi weakening beneath her hands. Her bending pulsed in rhythm with Lin’s failing heartbeat, but it wasn’t enough.
Nothing was enough.
“She’s crashing!” someone shouted. Kya wasn’t even sure who.
“No!” Her voice cracked. “No, no, no.”
She tried to keep her composure, but something raw and painful was bleeding through her carefully constructed control. She pressed her hands to Lin’s chest, water glowing brighter as she pushed every ounce of energy she had left into her. But it didn’t work. Nothing was working.
The room spun, the edges of her vision narrowing as panic rose inside of her. She felt the weight of every second slipping through her fingers. She looked down. At her trembling hands. The water pooling uselessly around her fingers. The blood. Lin’s lifeless form.
This couldn’t be happening. Not Lin. Please, Spirits, not Lin.
Then, suddenly, the room around her quieted, all the noise fading to the background as something unnerving settled over her. Her jaw tightened, her teeth grinding together. Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment, shutting out the voices of doubt screaming in her mind.
She couldn’t let this happen. Not when there was still something she could do.
One thing.
Every rule, every taboo, every consequence faded into the background. All that remained was the undeniable truth: there was no other way.
That’s when she made the decision.
It wasn’t a choice, not really. It was a refusal. A refusal to let Lin slip away, to stand by while the unthinkable happened.
She straightened, her eyes snapping to the three other healers in the room. They were all staring at her, afraid, confused.
“What you’re about to witness,” Kya said, her voice sharp, “stays inside this room. Do you understand me?”
The younger healers exchanged a nervous glance, clearly unsure of what she meant. One of them opened their mouth to question, but Kya cut them off, her voice rising.
“Do you understand me?!” she repeated, her eyes burning.
The three healers flinched, then nodded.
Kya turned back to Lin, her hands trembling as she hovered them above the broken body before her. She closed her eyes, drawing a shaky breath to steady herself. She had made her choice. There was no turning back.
“I’m sorry, Lin,” she whispered. “Please forgive me.”
Her hands began to move, fingers curling as if they were pulling invisible strings. The water she’d been using to heal evaporated into thin air, and was replaced by an unnatural stillness. Her chi shifted, and surged outward, latching onto the faint remnants of Lin’s own.
Then it began.
The room seemed to darken as Kya’s movements took on a different rhythm. She focused on the blood within Lin’s body, and to her relief—or shock, or horror, she wasn’t sure—it responded. She felt it immediately, the subtle yet overwhelming power of bending life itself.
The wounds that before had refused to clot now obeyed her command, the bleeding slowing down as she directed the blood away from the damaged areas. Freeing one of her hands, she bent a stream of water into one of the deeper injuries. Its glow returned as she used it to clean the site of any debris, close the tissue and seal the veins. Her fingers twitched as she bent the blood to maintain circulation to Lin’s vital organs, keeping them functioning, and back toward her heart, keeping it flowing just enough to sustain her, just enough to give her time.
One of the healers let out a small gasp, the sound cutting through the tense silence. They knew. They didn’t say a word, but they knew.
Kya ignored them, continuing moving her hands in tandem, one controlling the flow of blood, the other bending water to heal the damage. She could feel Lin’s pulse, faint and erratic, but there. It was like holding a fragile thread, one that could snap at any moment. Her mind raced as she moved, and her entire body ached with the effort of maintaining control, of keeping Lin alive.
Minutes passed like hours, every second stretching unbearably. Finally, Kya felt the internal blood flow stabilize. Lin’s heartbeat, faint and fragile, began to steady.
Kya’s shoulders sagged as she released her control. Her hands fell to her sides, trembling from exhaustion. She stepped back, leaning heavily against the wall, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. She opened her eyes to find the other healers staring at her, their faces pale with a mixture of awe and terror.
“Keep working on her,” Kya rasped. “Stabilize her now. She’ll need a transfusion. She’s not out of the woods yet.”
The healers hesitated, but only for a moment, before rushing forward to continue the work.
Her gaze drifted to Lin, watching as her chest rose and fell steadily now. Relief replaced fear, and her vision blurred with tears threatening to spill. But she blinked them back. This wasn't the right time.
She’d done it. Against all odds, Lin was still here, still breathing.
But it had come at a cost. She knew it had.
Her hands trembled as she wiped them on the blood-stained cloth sticking out of her pocket, her mind spinning with the knowledge of what she’d just done. What she’d had to do. The echoes of her actions lingered in her mind and it left her feeling strange. Hollow.
She glanced at the other healers, their expressions unreadable as they worked. None of them spoke, but the silence said it all. They had seen something forbidden, something no healer was supposed to do, no matter the circumstances
Kya squared her shoulders.
“Not a word,” she said.
They nodded silently, but Kya knew it wasn’t going to be that simple.
As she stood there, the reality of her actions settled over her. She had crossed a line, one she had promised herself she never would, no matter the cost. But this cost? Losing Lin? She simply hadn’t been able to bear it.
She looked back at Lin, her heart aching. Even though she’d saved her, she knew that what had just happened would likely haunt them both.