Chapter Text
Bolin watched as Korra’s ship disappeared into the vastness of the Coruscant skyline, its faint silhouette merging with the endless stream of traffic that weaved between towering skyscrapers. The ship wasn’t piloted by Korra — he knew that much. She still couldn’t navigate a starship to save her life, relying instead on the droid brain to take her where she needed to go. Yet, watching it leave stirred something deep within him, a pang of regret, a sense of absence that gnawed at him.
They had been a team — Korra and he — since the beginning, since they met in the – appropriately named, as it turned out – Vulptilla Youngling Clan. The dynamic duo of the Jedi Order. Always side by side, tackling missions, challenges, and sometimes chaos, together. They balanced each other out, his steadiness complementing her fire. More than once, whispers had floated around the Temple, suggesting that perhaps they were more than just comrades. Bolin had heard the rumours— had even entertained the idea himself a few times. He would’ve wanted it. Unlike Korra, however, he wouldn’t have been able to keep it casual, though — not with her.
But attachments were forbidden, and Bolin respected that, as much as it hurt.
It didn’t matter in the end. It had never gotten between them, never stopped them from being an incredible team. Which was why it hurt all the more to see Korra so broken, so… unlike herself. She was always vibrant, fiery — a force of nature. But after the mission on the Mega Awesome Space Station, after the loss of Jinora, something in her had dimmed.
She blamed herself. Of course, she did. Even though it wasn’t her fault. No one short of Master Zuko would’ve been able to stop Za Heer.
Of course, Korra, ever empathetic and caring, took the fact that she got away relatively unscathed while Bolin and Asami were wounded quite hard, even though that too wasn’t her fault.
Asami…
Korra took Asami losing her hand very hard. There was more at play here than just Korra’s good heart. At first Bolin thought that these two confident and headstrong women would keep butting their heads however it almost seemed as if… no, impossible. Or was it?
Of course there was also the other issue. The issue of Korra tapping into her anger and fury as Za Heer was flying away, using it to fuel her power, almost killing Jinora in the process.
That was the one thing about the mission Bolin hid from the Council and they either didn’t notice the lie of omission or let him decide on his own whether he wanted to share it. He knew the Jedi sagas and histories and knew that plenty of Jedi, usually Masters, made the mistake of ignoring the first signs of their comrades and students flirting with the dark side. Usually, it led to disastrous effects but…
…but this was Korra! Headstrong and energetic? Yes. Stubborn? Definitely! But she was no Dark Jedi! In the entire Jedi Order, you’d be hard pressed to find more than five Jedi with kinder hearts than hers!
Bolin exhaled heavily, realizing his thoughts had wandered as the last traces of Korra’s ship vanished from view. He wished he could’ve gone with her, wherever she was going. But she had been surprisingly vague about her destination, evading every question with a wave of her hand and that typical Korra grin that never reached her eyes. Besides, he had his own recovery to think about. His arm was still healing, and he wasn’t quite ready for another adventure. Not yet.
But there was something else. Something he had to do. Alone.
He checked the chrono on his wrist. He was supposed to meet Master Katara soon. He didn’t want to be late.
* * *
The small circular chamber in the Jedi Temple was serene, bathed in warm, ambient light. The high stone walls echoed with a sense of calm that had been cultivated for generations of Jedi meditations. It smelled faintly of incense and herbs, the delicate blend soothing Bolin’s senses as he sat cross-legged on the floor. He watched as Master Katara, prepared a steaming pot of hot chocolate, rich with the scent of strange but calming spices.
Bolin had offered to help, but Katara had waved him off with a soft chuckle. "Let an old master indulge herself," she had said with a wink.
He felt himself relaxing a bit. He hated to impose on her, especially now after her granddaughter had been abducted, but Katara was nothing than supportive.
“Helping others helps one forget about their own burden, if only for a moment,” she said, as if knowing what he was thinking.
“Thank you,” he responded, glad to be here.
He tasted the drink – sweet with just the right spicy note and a fresh minty aftertaste – and immediately became glad she was the one who’d prepared it.
“Ah, that’s so good,” he whispered, taking a deep breath of the rejuvenating smell.
Katara smiled at him from across the small table, her hands cupped around her own mug. "A perfect drink for discussing important matters, wouldn’t you agree?" she said softly, her voice as soothing as the drink. “Important personal matters.”
“What personal isn’t important,” Bolin said quickly. “As Jedi we are to serve the Force, the Galaxy and the Republic.”
Then he groaned inwardly and barely stopped himself from facepalming hard. Did he really just say to Master Katara, whose granddaughter got recently kidnapped by terrorists, that personal issues weren’t important? He opened his mouth to apologize but Katara raised her hand while her gentle smile never wavered.
“And yet we are people, not droids from an assembly line… and even those sometimes develop personalities,” she said softly. “Each one of us is different in their own way and that’s what makes us so interesting and unique. That’s the source of our strength. And this comes from our personal history and experiences.”
“I… I guess you’re right,” Bolin said.
Katara gave a soft chuckle. "That happens occasionally. It’s why they let me sit on the Council, you know." She winked at him, but her expression grew serious, though not unkind.
"Your request," she said, her voice softening, "came to my desk. I want to know why you're asking for these records. Why now?"
Bolin felt his chest tighten. He set his cup down, fingers tracing the rim. "I…" He paused, searching for the right words.
"Aren’t you happy here?" Katara asked, her brow furrowing. "In the Temple? In the Order? Haven’t you found your place?"
"I have!" Bolin blurted; his words rushed. "I love being a Jedi. I love the Order. But…" He hesitated again, taking a breath. "But you said our past shapes us. I don’t… I don’t know where I come from. I want to understand that part of me."
Katara watched him carefully, her eyes kind, but her expression thoughtful. "Ah," she said after a moment. "But if you don’t remember your past, does it still hold power over you?"
Bolin’s shoulders sagged slightly, disappointment settling in. "I guess not," he muttered, defeated. "Sorry for wasting your time, Master." He moved to stand.
"Sit," Katara’s voice was gentle but firm, and Bolin froze. Slowly, he lowered himself back down. "If it’s important to you, then there is a reason. Be honest with me. More importantly, be honest with yourself." Her eyes bore into him, not unkindly, but deeply, searching. "What’s really driving you to seek this out? Is it about the Twi’lek on the space station?"
Bolin’s heart thudded in his chest. He hadn’t said much about the strange red-skinned Twi’lek—the Dark Jedi who had shown up during the final battle against the Red Lotus. The one who, inexplicably, had helped Korra save him and Asami before disappearing in the chaos.
But it wasn’t just the encounter itself. It was the feeling — the strange, gnawing familiarity that had settled deep within him the moment their eyes met. A sensation that felt like something precious had been lost, something that had been missing for longer than he could remember.
"He knew my name," Bolin said quietly, staring at the floor. "And when I saw him… it felt like… like he was someone I should’ve known. Someone who should’ve been important to me." His voice was strained, as if the words themselves weighed too much. "I don’t know why. But I feel like the answers are somewhere in my past."
Katara nodded slowly, as if considering something. Then, without a word, she pulled out a datacard and held it out to him. "The past can be like a treacherous quicksand," she warned, her voice gentle but serious. "It can pull you in if you’re not careful. Don’t let it consume you, Bolin. Don’t lose sight of the present or the future."
Bolin’s hands trembled slightly as he took the datacard, his heart thudding in his chest.
"Thank you, Master," he said, bowing his head in respect before taking his leave.
* * *
Later, alone in his quarters, the silence of the Jedi Temple surrounded him. PA-BU, his droid companion, chirped softly, sensing his master’s unease. Bolin’s hand absentmindedly brushed the droid’s sleek metal chassis as he stared at the datacard resting in his palm.
Master Katara’s warning echoed in his mind.
The past can be like a treacherous quicksand
Then he recalled something else – the way the Dark Jedi shouted Bolin’s name. In warning and in fear as if any hurt that would happen to Bolin was more than the strange Twi’lek could take.
Probably sensing his elevated stress levels, his droid chirped in a familiar, reassuring whistle. Bolin sighed, put the datacard into the datapad and started reading, his eyes finding the most important fragments.
Bolin, Twi’lek.
Parents: Aayla and Lenar, deceased.
Planet of origin: Ryloth.
Force Sensitive.
Age: 4.
So he was, most likely, an orphan. That wasn’t surprising. He’d always felt that, always known that and all the thought brought was a dull sense of loss. The Jedi were his family. But…
Wait!
Taken into the temple at age of four? That wasn’t exactly unheard of, but was very rare as it was on the verge of being too old to be accepted.
But then his eyes fell on another line and felt his mouth go dry and his heart beat faster. He barely even heard another reassuring chirp from PA-BU.
Mako, Twi’lek.
Parents: Aayla and Lenar, deceased.
Planet of origin: Ryloth.
Force Sensitive.
Age: 9.
Mako…
No images came to mind, no concrete memories, but there was a feeling. A warmth. A deep sense of safety.
Unconditional love.
Bolin’s breath hitched, realization hitting him in an instant. He knew that the conclusion that came to him could’ve been premature. There were many other explanations. But he was absolutely certain he was right.
He had a brother.
He read the next line.
Jedi Recruiter: Toza.
He had a brother.
And he had a lead.