It was a cold night in mid autumn. Nights never got as cold in Republic City as they did back home, but Tarrlok had stayed in the city long enough he was starting to become weak to the cold, the price any water tribesman who settled in a warmer climate, an equal trade for being able to wear less than three layers.

Tarrlok didn’t mind the cold. More than anything, he welcomed it. The bitter chill eating away at his bones was one of the few things keeping him awake as he filed council paperwork. How had even gotten stuck doing this? He was sure Tenzin never had to stay late at the office filing memos and reports for the rest of the council. Tenzin didn’t even have an office of his own, he worked from the temple.

After trying to decipher some especially over-worded legalese about traffic routes in the northern uptown district, Tarrlok reached for the cup of tea he kept on his desk just for this purpose, only to find that the liquid inside was bitter, cold, and closer to sludge than tea.

“Get me more tea.” Tarrlok snapped at his assistant, not taking his eyes off the papers.

“Yes sir, right away.” His assistant replied, then disappeared out the office towards the building’s kitchen to make more tea. As the door fell back into place with a heavy thud, Tarrlok leaned back in his chair. The paper was easier to read when illuminated by the light of his water wall, or maybe he just needed a break from the yellow light of his desk lamp. Either way, Tarrlok tried to focus on the document’s text- this one was part of the same document as before, something about transportation regulations or increased trolley fare- whatever it was, Tarrlok didn’t care about it. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a minister of transportation.

Tarrlok set down the paper and sighed, covering his eyes with his hands to get a glimpse of near-sleep. He didn’t understand why the other council members were so adamant on handling minor, inconsequential issues while they had a social crisis on their hands. They couldn’t possibly expect the Avatar to handle all their problems, and bus fares weren’t going to stop the Equalist Movement alone.

A knock sounded, the cracking tone echoing across the room and interrupting Tarrlok’s thoughts. He startled, almost loosing his document to his own water feature, and glanced around the room. His assistant couldn’t possibly have been back with the tea yet, it had only been-

His heart jolted when he saw it- when he saw him. In Tarrlok’s massive office windows sat a figure, perched on the windowsill with one hand on the glass. The more Tarrlok focused on it, the more he distinguished the features as belonging to famed Equalist Leader Amon.

In all his time hunting the man down, Tarrlok had actually never encountered him, though he knew his face- or rather, his mask- like the back of his hand. At first it was only a shadowed shape, hidden by the man’s hood, but the more Tarrlok’s eyes adjusted, the more of the mask he could make out- the clean slopes of the lines, the red sun in the center of the forehead. The slight smile of the mask’s mouth seemed to taunt him- a reminder of who Amon was and the power he held.

It was if death was standing at his doorstep, no- it was perched on his windowsill. Amon had finally done the thing Tarrlok had been asking him to- he had come for him. Whether he went down as a martyr or emerged as a victor in this moment didn’t matter- he would win in the long run either way.

Tarrlok made eye contact with Amon- as much as he could while the other man remained shrouded in the dark. He needed to signal that he was inviting him in without exposing himself to the first attack.

To Tarrlok’s surprise, Amon complied and did exactly what he wanted him too. Within only moments the window opened with a shuddering metallic creak, the harsh noise answered by a spiral of wind swirling through the room and the sound of Amon’s own heavy footsteps across the floor. He stopped when he was in the center of the room, directly across from Tarrlok.

Tarrlok jumped to his feet and extended his arms into an obvious, exaggerated waterbending form- Amon needed to know what he was up against. “I’ll give you one chance to surrender, Amon.” He declared, speaking as clearly as he could, trying desperately not to let his nerves inflict his voice. “Stand down now, or suffer the consequences.”

Amon then did something that inflicted more fear onto Tarrlok than he thought was possible- he spoke. “Don’t worry, I won’t spare you the trouble of loosing to me.” His voice was confident and relaxed, controlling yet calm and hauntingly, terrifyingly familiar to him. Tarrlok nearly faltered and dropped his bending stance.

“What do you want?” Tarrlok demanded, keeping his position and maintaining eye contact with the Equalist. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his desktop phone. Maybe, if he acted quickly, he could knock Amon out and call the cops. Lin Beifong would surely make quick work of this. It would be humiliating on his part, but it could be necessary.

Amon didn’t move, not to fight or retreat- at least not in the way Tarrlok expected. He put his hands in the air- the universal gesture of surrender. “I just want to talk.”

Tarrlok glanced at the door- still closed with no sign of his assistant- before turning back to Amon. “Go on.”

Instead of speaking, Amon moved his hands from being suspended in air to his hood. He slowly pulled it back, as if he, even, was afraid of the movement. It was easy for Tarrlok to figure out what would come next, especially when Amon put his hands around his mask.

“Hold on-“ The man near whispered, his voice inflicted with genuine fear and pain Tarrlok wasn’t expecting to hear from the figure. He kept his stance, ready to attack if anything went wrong.

At least an entire minute passed as the stood in silence- Tarrlok waiting for Amon to complete the motion. He kept eyeing the clock, and the phone, and the door, one of which a good measure of the time, the other two viable escape options.

Amon took in a breath before he removed his mask- a breath so audible it resonate across the room, though that could’ve just been because of the dead silence of the office, or Tarrlok’s nerves overcompensating for his senses. In a swift, complete motion, the Equalist Leader removed his mask, pulling it over his face. It felt wrong for Tarrlok to be the one to see it. He couldn’t tell why he held so much respect for the man or the identity he was trying to hide, but it felt wrong.

Amon had a distinguished face- a prominent, flat nose, a chiseled jaw, a heavy brow. The more Tarrlok studied his features the more he recognized them as Northern Water Tribe, like his own, and the more they seemed familiar.

It wasn’t til he spoke again did Tarrlok realize who he was.

“Tarrlok, I know-“

“Noatak?” He ran his hands through his hair, no doubt ruining his perfect braid, but that was on the bottom of the list of important things happening right now. “You’re alive?!”

Amon cleared his throat. His features moved awkwardly, as if he wasn’t used to being looked at without the mask- which now lay in his hands. He kept fidgeting with it. “Uh. Yes. I am.”

Tarrlok couldn’t believe it- it was actually him, his long-lost, dead older brother was standing right in front of him, after twenty-four long years. And he was Equalist Leader Amon. “What the hell? It’s you? You’re Noatak?”

Amon- Noatak nodded. He stepped back. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Prove it.” Tarrlok sputtered, leaning over his desk. “Prove that it’s you.”

Noatak stopped where he stood. “What the- I burnt all my old possessions long ago, I wouldn’t have anything you’d recognize from our past.” The realization dawned on him. “I’m not going to bloodbend you. Not my own brother.”

Tarrlok sighed and looked down onto his desk. The refusal was proof enough. He spoke like Noatak, he acted like Noatak. He looked like the older brother he had always looked up too. It had to be him. He tore his eyes from his desk to return to his brother. “Why?”

Noatak paused. “Why- what? There’s a lot you could be asking.”

“You’re right.” Tarrlok sighed. He walked over to his office door and bolted it shut. When he returned to the desk, he gestured at the plush chair in front of it. “Sit down, we have a lot to talk about.”

Noatak nodded and complied, setting his mask on to the desk. Tarrlok took a moment to admire it, or at least stare at it.

“What’s it made out of?” He asked.

“Bamboo wood.” Noatak replied. “Painted, obviously. I have a couple incase I get into scuffs with firebenders.”

Tarrlok ignored the thoughts in his head about why his brother would be fighting firebenders, he already knew. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. “Start from the beginning.”

“What?”

“Why’d you leave?”

It took Noatak a moment to answer. “I had to. I couldn’t stay. I wanted to bring you with me, but.”

“I know. I’m the one who stayed to look after mom.” Tarrlok couldn’t help but scoff. “Next question, where were you?”

“I traveled around the world, mostly the Earth Kingdom, for a while, until I found the cause, here.” His words were awkward, Tarrlok suspected he didn’t tell the truth much.

“Leads directly into our next question. What’s with the Equalist stuff? You’re a bender.”

“You saw all dad put us through and you don’t see bending as the root of evil in the world?” Noatak asked, his voice soft, and genuine, and sincere. “Things are wrong in the world. I’m trying to fix that.”

The words took Tarrlok aback for a moment. He should’ve been expecting the reason, or at least something similar to it. He put a hand to his forehead. “Ideological differences aside- how? How are you doing it?”

“Doing what?” Noatak asked, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Your thing!” Tarrlok explained, gesturing vaguely at his forehead. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, that.” Noatak sighed, and looked to the side to avoid eye contact. “Figured you’d ask me about that. It’s.. some pretty complicated bloodbending with chi-blocking principles applied to it. It took me a while to crack it, but I’ve got it down to a science now.” The way his brother spoke about the removal of someone else’s power terrified Tarrlok.

“So the spirit thing was a lie?” He asked.

Noatak nodded. “One of many.” He didn’t elaborate on the statement.

“I only have one more question.”

“Go for it.”

“Why’d you come here, tonight? Why’d you’d reveal yourself to me?”

Noatak sighed and looked down. He picked his mask up from the table and held it in his hands. “I was actually hoping you’d come with me.”

Tarrlok didn’t answer, letting the statement hang in the air, completely still.