I wrote this one when I was on vacation last week, but didn’t get to actually editing and posting it until today… On the plus side, that means I’ve edited it a bit more thoroughly than last time.
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Chapter 48
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After what felt like ages but was probably half a minute at most, Kopaka finally lowered his head, coming out of his conflicted trance. He’d made his decision, I knew, but he didn’t bother to vocalize it. Instead he sighed, then turned, hesitated for a moment… and knocked on the door.
He knocked on the door.
I’d expected him to do something along the line of sighing, explaining why he wouldn’t apologize in some logical, rationalized way, and then stick with the note. But no, he knocked on the door. Had he… Had he changed his mind, his plan, in favor something I’d argued for, something I’d never really dared to expect him to go along with? I mean, in light of what he’d told me when last we were here… This wasn’t the Kopaka I’d known before, or at least not the one I’d known before the end of Pohatu. Yeah, something’d changed, but was it too late? For a while, the knock elicited no response, and I feared Gali’d already gone back downstairs, back to her basement hollow. Looking back towards the kitchen window, I noticed the light was still on. Gali didn’t seem the type to me to leave it on, particularly since she probably hadn’t been all that comfortable with what she’d been doing anyways. Still, if she was still up here, she would’ve made it to the door by now; what gave? After a minute or so, Kopaka looked about to give in.
“The light’s still on,” I pushed him on. “She should still be up.” He hesitated for a moment, then knocked again. Again we waited, and I’d just started making my way back to the window when our patience was rewarded and we finally heard the tell-tale sound of the door being unlocked. It opened inwards slightly. The face of the Toa Nuva of Water appeared, peering nervously out into the darkness. Her eyes widened when she saw Kopaka.
“K-Kopaka?” she stammered, distinctly nervous, even… afraid. In light of how they’d last parted, I couldn’t blame her.
“Gali,” he greeted solemnly. Standing halfway between the window and the door, I didn’t fall into the light of either; Gali didn’t immediately pick up on my presence, and I wasn’t sure how exactly to come in. Then again, nor did I really want to; Kopaka’d made his decision, now he had to go with it. So I watched, curious about how exactly this exchange would go down.
“W-what do you want?” Gali asked timidly.
“I have a message for Hahli,” he replied. His voice sounded, if anything, empty. It lacked its usual conviction, but it wasn’t hesitant either, more… going through the motions, his mind not fully in it, like he was purposely distancing himself. It was his practiced insulation at work.
“Hahli?” Gali repeated, then averted her eyes for a moment. “I-I can see if she’s awake…”
“No, you can get it to her later,” Kopaka interjected and offered her the note. Gali opened the door a bit further, then reached out and picked it out of his hand.
“I-I’ll make sure she gets it,” she promised. Kopaka didn’t say anything in reply, and for a few seconds the two stood in awkward silence. For his part, Kopaka seemed confused as to how exactly to proceed; this hadn’t been part of his plan, and as such he was having a hard time figuring it out. Gali waited, perhaps for him to bring the conversation to some kind of conclusion, or maybe she was still trying to process the fact that Kopaka was here at this hour. Either way, in her demeanor there was little left to recognize of the driven, confident Toa who I’d worked with on the surgery… Kopaka really had shattered something in her, or perhaps just re-shattered it, and Gali had yet to put it back together. Still, eventually it was her who broke the silence.
“Uhm, so… that’s all?” she wondered. Kopaka didn’t reply, still clearly trying to figure out a plan of some kind as to where to take this conversation. “Well, okay then…” Gali said, disappointedly if anything, as she turned to close the door.
“That note…” Kopaka suddenly spoke up, “…you should know what is on it.”
“I should?” Gali turned back to Kopaka, inadvertently opening the door further in the process. In absence of further explanation on Kopaka’s part, she started to unfold the note.
“No need for you to open it,” the Toa of Ice interjected. “It is just… it is not good news.”
“Bad news?” she looked up from working the note. “About what?” Kopaka paused for a second, considering how exactly to respond to her curiosity. As far as I was concerned, he should’ve just told her, and apparently that was the conclusion that he came to as well.
“It is about Pohatu,” he continued after a deep breath. “He… he is gone. Dead.”
“D-dead?” Gali’s eyes widened with shock. “H-how could…”
“He was not doing well,” Kopaka solemnly went on. “He was hurting a lot, Gali.”
“Hurting?..” Gali’s gaze dropped as she steadied herself against the doorway. “He was that… that bad?”
“He was ready to die…” Kopaka trailed off for a moment, then reasserted himself.
“By Mata Nui…” Gali whispered, barely audible. One hand went to her face while she steadied herself against the doorway with the other; tears had appeared in her eyes. “I-I should’ve done something.”
“You did do something,” Kopaka pointed out.
“Not enough,” Gali shook her head. “He… he needed more. I failed him.” Her voice was breaking up as she uttered those words. She was the picture of grief, leaning against the doorway with a sad, empty look to her, still clutching the note. This was something that Kopaka clearly wasn’t quite sure how to deal with; he was still trying to hold himself stoically. However, it was clearly difficult for him as well, most notably because his eyes were tearing up too. “I-I failed him…” Gali repeated to herself. Kopaka averted his eyes for a moment. Then, almost out of nowhere, he stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“No, Sister,” he said far more softly than I’d anticipated, “you did not fail him. You did everything you could. He said so much himself.”
“Everything I could didn’t save him,” Gali replied through bitter tears, struggling with the words.
“No one…” Kopaka began, his voice breaking as well, “no one could have helped him. He was gone, Gali, no longer for this world. You could not change it, and neither could I. We did what we could. He… he died in peace.” Gali looked up for a moment and shook her head. Kopaka said no more, still trying to maintain his composure, but in his way he was showing as much pain as she was, which she realized. After as second or two, she stepped forward and embraced her brother.
“In peace…” she muttered. “Thank Mata Nui…” Again, Kopaka seemed caught off guard by the sudden display of emotion, but to my surprise he eventually returned the gesture as best as he was able, awkwardly embracing Gali in return. Very quickly, that embrace became more genuine, though; both Toa were overcome, each the other’s shoulder to cry on, grieving the loss of their brother and friend. Kopaka happened to be facing away from me, but I could tell he was shedding tears, too. After a while they released, reverting to their previous positions; him facing off to her standing in the doorway, a few feet of space between them, both recollecting themselves.
“Do you want to come in?" Gali eventually offered.
“I cannot stay,” Kopaka went back to his old refrain.
“But they’re going to have a memorial,” Gali continued, “and you have to be there. You… you owe it to him. We all do.”
“No, I was there,” Kopaka explained, “I was there when he died… we said our goodbyes.”
“Of course,” Gali sighed. “Of course you did, but… you’ve got to say something in his memory.”
“I already have,” Kopaka pointed at the note. “My words, not to be credited to me.” Gali looked down at the note for a moment, then back at him.
“Well, I still don’t want you to go,” she said. “You can’t… I can’t watch you go again.”
“And I cannot stay here,” Kopaka repeated himself. Gali looked down for a moment, swallowed, then looked up again, but didn’t say anything. I think… I think it was her coming to face reality, much as she hated that reality; Kopaka wasn’t going to stay, no matter how much she wanted him to. She’d tried every argument the last time he was here, and the answer had been made brutally clear to her; he was going to leave her alone again regardless of what she said, of what she argued. Still, she wanted to, had to hope that something, anything could change his mind, even if she was drawing a blank now.
“You’re going to die up there,” she began, her face an expression of hopelessness. “You go back there, it’s guaranteed, but you’re going to do it anyways… and I can’t stop you.” She raised her hands for a moment, then dropped them at her side again, at a loss for words. Kopaka held still for a few seconds, again trying to come up with what to him probably seemed like a satisfactory reply, some retort, a last word before turning around and leaving perhaps. That’s what I was expecting, but I’ll admit that what came after still took me by surprise.
“Gali,” Kopaka began as he took a step forward. “Stop doing this to yourself.”
“Stop what?” she asked, somewhat perplexed.
“Stop trying to recreate a world that no longer exists.” He paused before continuing as Gali looked at him with more than a hint of bewilderment. “You have tried everything, sister, as you always did, but you cannot bring the old Toa Nuva back. Not Tahu, not Pohatu…”
“… and not you?” she finished, sounding disappointed. “You’re telling me to leave you alone because… you’re you.”
“Yes,” Kopaka acknowledged. Gali shook her head again as her expression fell.
“So I can’t do anything for you either…” she sighed. Kopaka didn’t respond verbally, but the expression on his face was a pained one, mirroring Gali’s. “So it goes… well, goodbye then,” she said bitterly as she began to close the door again.
“Gali, wait,” Kopaka spoke up. She held the door, looking back to him. “You are right,” he continued, “right in that you cannot do for me what you have tried and failed to do for all of us. However, there is someone who you can do something for: yourself.”
“Me?” Gali questioned.
“You know what I am talking about,” Kopaka momentarily nodded down at her body, an unquestioning reference to the Toa Nuva of Water’s physical condition. “You are better than that, and you know it. If you really want to do something for me, do something for yourself and put the second helpings down.”
“Really?” Gali opened the door again, but the tone of her voice had suddenly turned less than hopeful, more… skeptical, almost sarcastic. “Is that what I need to do? I should tell you I’ll set myself straight so you can march off to your death feeling good about how you left?” All of the sudden, the grief-stricken Gali was gone; there was much more fire in her voice. “You don’t get to do that, Kopaka,” she continued. “You don’t get a clean conscience when you leave like that, not when you could stay for the good of yourself and others but refused to.” She stopped for a moment, that fire apparently already running out of steam, but bitterness remained. “Yeah, this sucks…” she acknowledged, “and I know, but if you’re leaving me like this, then this is the image you’ll have to live with.” She took a step back and raised her arms slightly from her sides to emphasize her size, presenting a view that Kopaka couldn’t hide from, as though she intended to sear the image of her grotesque obesity into his mind. It had shocked him so much when he’d first met her again… but this time his reaction was altogether different, different than from then and from what I had expected. He held his ground, his expression turning cold as he looked her up and down. I feared for a moment that he’d respond to her sudden… bitterness with another tirade to put her in her place, but no tirade came. Instead, he calmly, if coldy replied:
“Spite, Gali? Is that spite? You wish for me to leave you like this, just so you can be a stain on my conscience? Is that what you want?” Her expression hardened. The temperature seemed to drop as he continued: “If that is what you want, then I will leave, and do not think that I will care. You will have doomed yourself to your fate, and only to spite me.” He took a step forward again. “Go ahead, go back to that kitchen," he said in a rapidly darkening tone, "empty the cabinets, the ice box, everything… keep going until you cannot pick yourself up from the floor anymore. I am sure Hahli and Macku will carry you around on their backs if it came to that. And one day, when what is left in there finally gives out on you,” he pointed at Gali’s heartlight, “then you will be able to die with the satisfaction that you got to haunt my conscience the way you do every other Matoran’s when they see you being made a mockery of a Toa by the Agori. That is what you are asking for, sister, and make no mistake that I will give that to you.” He kept his expression steeled, his voice subdued enough not to wake anyone but nonetheless threatening in the extreme, a fact that clearly wasn’t lost on Gali; her facade was crumbling. That confidence, that force of personality that had come with her assertion of her place in his mind had drained away, replaced once again by a Gali that looked more like what she’d become after he’d berated her post-surgery. He held his position for a moment, looking down on the Toa of Water as though he was about to deliver a verbal finishing blow; I was about to jump in, to drag him back, to make sure he didn’t… but then his expression suddenly saddened. He turned for a moment, lowering his head and looking away both from me and Gali before turning his attention back on the latter again. “What has happened to you?” he asked, his voice suddenly much gentler. “This is not you. The Gali I knew would never do this, become spiteful on the assumption that it would somehow hurt those who hurt her. You were better than that.” He stopped for a moment, perhaps awaiting a response, but Gali had none to give; those words had hit home. “I see…” he shook his head as he stepped back again, “… you are better than that. You still are.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” Gali began feebly. “I just can’t, can’t have this happen, not again.”
“No…” Kopaka stopped her, “I am sorry.” She looked up at him questioningly. “I am sorry,” he continued, “sorry for what I said last time. I believed you responsible for things that you were not, and let anger over that get the better of me.” Her expression, once again, was one of astonishment, and for that matter so was mine. “Truth is, you did everything you could, more than anyone else was willing to do, and for that you were the best of us,” he admitted. “In spite of everything you tried to keep us together, and when that failed you continued to help each of us as best you could no matter how thankless a job it was. Of all of us, you should have been the one who succeeded in this world, and you can still be.”
“No, not without…” she began, but didn’t get further.
“Gali,” he interrupted, “you cannot let bitterness and despondence over our failings get the better of you. You are better than that, and the Matoran need you to be. To them, you are the only Toa Nuva left, the only true Toa Nuva. So stop, sister, stop blaming yourself for losing what was never yours to hold on to. Stop thinking that the only thing you can do worthwhile in this world is to try and get us back to where we can never be again. Save yourself; you are stronger than this, and you do not need me to beat it.” He took a step back and held there, giving her a chance to reply, but his heartfelt apology had momentarily left her speechless. So, with a last nod and fateful glance, he turned and started down the path across the yard.
“Wait!” Gali called as he reached the sidewalk. He stopped, but did not turn around. Having stepped outside in an effort to catch up, she now did the same; the few steps out into the yard were probably further out than she’d been in ages. “I-I’ll try," she began, “but you have to as well. You don’t have to stay, fine, but…” she paused for a moment to consider her plea, "if you do need anything, and I know you will… please don’t be a stranger.” That was it; acceptance of his wanting to leave reconciled, to some degree, with her wanting to make sure he wouldn’t die by it. He waited a moment, then turned his head and unenthusiastically replied:
“I will see what I can do.” She nodded, though the expression on her face was a seriously doubtful one. Kopaka was about to get going again when he suddenly remembered something. “One more thing.”
“Anything, please” she invited.
“Tell Hewkii that Pohatu thanked him for everything that he did for him,” he recalled. “It was his last wish.”
“I will,” she confirmed. “Him and Hahli; I’ll get them the messages.”
“Thank you,” he nodded. “Farewell, sister.”
“Farewell…” Gali’s voice trailed off as tears were taking over again. She watched as Kopaka took two steps forward, clearing the yard, then turned right and made his way along the road. She wanted to stop him, I could feel it, but at the same time some part of her knew it was futile. But where ordinarily that could’ve been nothing but extremely depressing to her, I detected something of a ray of hope… did she think he’d really come back again if he needed to? For that matter, would he? At this point, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he would, and this was the first time that I’d felt hopeful that maybe, just maybe, him going back into the mountains wouldn’t be the end, not for good. Then again… how much of what he’d said did he actually mean?
“Lis?” I was startled out of my thoughts by Gali who, turning around to head back into the house, had spotted me sitting by the wall.
“Oh, hi,” I greeted a bit nervously.
“Do you want to come in?” she asked, remarkably composed now for someone who’d just learned her brother had died and who’d just watched another walk away to his almost inevitable demise.
“Oh, sorry about the flowers…” I noticed as I got up that I’d ducked into a flower bed when the door had first opened, “and, uhm… no thanks.”
“Really?” Gali questioned. “It gets cold out at night.”
“Actually, I should get going,” I explained, looking in the direction that Kopaka’d headed. “I’ve… I’ve got a few questions left for him. But I’ll be back afterwards.”
“For Kopaka…” her expression fell again. “Good luck,” she said without sounding very hopeful of success.
“Well, a lot has changed over the last few days,” I continued, trying to lend some legitimacy to my plan in her eyes. “He’s… he’s changed his plans before, and maybe I can get him to do it again.”
“I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” Gali sighed, “but please, try. You are right that something about him is different, and by this point you probably know him as well as anyone. If anyone can save him from himself… it could be you.”
“I hope so,” I agreed. “Anyways… I’ll see you again soon; two days at the most.”
“Go,” Gali replied. “I’ll be here.” There was something different about her there, about her tone, that kept me occupied for a moment as I quickly followed the path Kopaka’d taken. She’d sounded almost… hopeful, hopeful in a way that I hadn’t seen since the first evening when we got here, hopeful in the way that I was sure Hahli wanted to see. Was it an expression of confidence on her part? That was a lot for a person she’d hardly met, but then again she did say that I knew Kopaka about as well as anyone else at this point. If anyone stood a chance of changing his course at this point, to make sure he wouldn’t go back into the mountains or at least wouldn’t make it permanent, it really was me. And I’d already changed his plan once before…
Given Kopaka’s usual quick walking pace, my thoughts quickly turned to the worry that I’d lost him for good, that he’d already gotten far enough that I’d never find him in the myriad of city streets. When I reached the crossing where we’d turned onto the street with Macku and Hahli’s house on it and still hadn’t caught so much of a glimpse of him, I decided that my only chance was to try and beat him to the central station, to catch him there… but which way was fastest? On a hunch, I turned left, the direction from which we’d come, and started running. The underground rail line had to have at least one branch that went to the central station, and there’d been a city map there as well, so either way it’d help me get to the central station quicker. As the sign advertising the entrance to Seaside Station came in to view, though, I started to slow down; I spotted a familiar figure sitting on a bench beneath the sign. It was Kopaka, apparently awaiting my return.
“Finished?” he asked as I approached.
“She… she took a while to go inside,” I explained, initially wanting to leave the details of our conversation out of the picture.
“No doubt because she saw you,” he deduced as he got up.
“Yeah, she did…” I admitted. “I told her I’d be back.”
“Good,” he concluded as he started to make his way down the stairs into the station.
“Good?” I wondered.
“She will need help, and you told me you were willing to give it,” he explained. “Your time will be much better spent helping her than it would’ve been trying to help Pohatu.”
“True, I guess…” He was definitely right there, tragic as it was… in his condition, even I couldn’t have done much to help Pohatu, but while Gali was physically in poor shape, her mind was still there, willing and able to set things straight.
“Central station, two tickets,” Kopaka informed the Agori behind the ticket counter. The latter informed us that our timing was ‘impeccable,’ since a train headed there was just about to depart. Kopaka’d already put the required widgets down on the counter before the he’d even read off the price, and within seconds we were making our way back into the station, where indeed a train was already waiting. There were a few other early bird passengers on board, so Kopaka opted to find the spot as far away from as many of them as possible, which turned out to be almost slap-bang in the middle of the central car this time. I started to speak up, but his expression immediately telegraphed to me in no uncertain terms that I was better off keeping my mouth shut while there were other people around; as Toa, we were attracting enough attention as it was, and he clearly wasn’t keen on me giving away anything now after he’d managed to keep his identity hidden for so long, regardless of how many questions I had. So I waited, albeit begrudgingly. Thankfully, the trip to the central station took only around fifteen minutes. Upon arrival, we made our way up from its underground portion, showed our return tickets to the Matoran manning the one open register, and soon found ourselves back on the upstairs landing where our next train was already waiting. However, the Matoran’d informed us that it would be a good thirty minutes ‘till departure, and that the train was at present being cleaned, preventing us from boarding. Kopaka opted to wait on one of the station benches instead; a capital idea that I was right no board with. Also, with no other Matoran or Agori in sight, I could finally pick up where I left off.
“You know, I’m proud of you,” I began as I took a seat next to him. He didn’t reply, so I elaborated: “you actually did it; you apologized to her.”
“So I did,” Kopaka confirmed matter-of-factly, “though I fail to see how that makes you proud.”
“You wouldn’t have done that normally,” I continued. “You would’ve just left that note and been done with it.”
“I said some things to set her straight,” Kopaka rephrased it. “Not exactly an earth-shattering development.”
“That’s not true,” I said, “and you know it.” He grumbled but didn’t reply in word, which I took as a sure sign that I was right; what he’d done there was fundamentally against that part of his personality he refused to acknowledge, that ego that I’d seen as Shadow Kopaka and that had governed the way he’d lashed out at Gali the first time. It was also the part that drove his need to be alone, to be away from everyone, which was why he was going into those mountains again… so, if I’d gotten him to act against it once by arguing in his language of Duty to the Matoran, could I do it again? “You know, you don’t have to go…” I continued, but he immediately shut that down.
“Lis, save it for the journey,” he said with a hint of agitation in his voice. I hesitated for a moment, then decided to take his advice; if I was ticking him off, the chances of him cooperating were not good. Still, I wouldn’t let him off that easily. I would let off for now, but later I would broach the subject again. In light of what I’d just seen, I had decided on an ultimatum; somehow, he’d have to either admit to his real reason for going back to the mountains, or not go back at all.
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#####author’s notes: one of my favorites, this one. The conversation between Gali and Kopaka went through a lot of drafts before I was satisfied with it, but satisfied I am. That said, I’m really going to have to condense a few things if I want to finish this by 50…
I’ll post more chapters as I finish them. As always, post any questions, comments, and/or observations below. Enjoy!
