Title: A Future Deferred

Words: 504

Pairing: Gen or Noatak/Tarrlok if you want to see it that way(It was my intention but...)

Rating: PG/PG-13 for bad things happening

Disclaimer: I don't own LOK or anything ATLA and make no money

Summary: Tarrlok's thoughts in his last moments

Warnings: Trigger warning for suicide

Notes: OH GOD WHY DID I WRITE THIS? I don't write sad things DAMN IT! Um I might have gotten a few things mixed up cause of my being overly emotional right now. This is unbetaed so sorry for any screw-ups.

Tarrlok stared dully at his brother from where he slumped in the back of the boat. The wind whipped through his hair, a breath of freedom and hope, and he felt sick. He couldn't hate Noatak for what he'd done, even with the gaping hole the loss of his bending tore in the pit of his stomach. Even after all this, he still felt a connection to the older man that had driven him to follow where he'd been too afraid to as a child.

"What are we going to do?" Tarrlok asked, voice half choked by the salt spray misting in the air from their speed.

Noatak's hands shook slightly as he sent the two of them flying over the water. Tarrlok could hear the wild unstable note in the older man's voice as he spun a fairytale for them.

New lives.

A future.

The former councilman's eyes slipped closed and for one brief moment he let himself believe he could have it, all of it. His kind beloved brother returned to him. A chance to make himself over in something other than his father's image. The possibility of a family some day... Or maybe something else he wanted even more.

His eyes opened and fixed themselves to Noatak's tall form.

"After all it can't be that hard to disappear." The older man told him with a half hysterical laugh. "No one ever found Father, did they?"

Something in Tarrlok's soul writhed in agony as dreams shattered around him like broken glass. His eyes burned as he looked around wildly, wondering what he could do to stop them before they became even more their father's sons.

He vaguely heard his brother say something about 'being together again' just as his gaze caught on one of the Equalist gloves lining the sides of the boat.

"Yes, Noatak." Tarrlok moved quickly, waiting for the feel of his brother's bending as it brought him to his knees again... but it never came.

"Noatak, I'd almost forgotten the sound of my own name." The voice was bittersweet, almost wistful.

Tarrlok rested his gloved hand over the open gas line.

"It will be just like the good old days..."

He thought he caught the glimmer of water reflecting on his brother's cheek.

'I hope we meet again in our next life my dear brother.' Tarrlok shut his eyes against his own tears threatening to fall and activated the glove. 'I love you...'