They told her to come alone. Korra had seen what the triads could do, and they had Tenzin, so she came alone. It was a small room in the back of an empty restaurant. A greasy little man with a stiff mustache and a brown trench-coat named Huan was waiting for her. Tenzin was kneeling beside him, his hands and feet bound. He had a black eye. Only overnight, she reminded herself. They'd had him overnight. There was only so much damage you could do.

"So here's what's going to happen," said Huan.

"Just hand him over. I'll get out of your hair, okay?"

"Is that an Avatar promise?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's whatever you want it to be."

He pulled a knife from nowhere. "I don't like your tone."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," she said icily. "Let's just get this over with. We'll both go our separate ways. Nobody gets hurt."

Huan leaned over and pulled Tenzin's chin up forcefully. "Not convincing me, here."

"Hey! I meant it! You don't have to do that!"

Huan sneered. "So does your blood turn blue when you become an airbending master? I've always been curious about that…"

The knife was pressed so closely to Tenzin's neck that he could only take shallow breaths.

"This is pointless," she said. "You can go."

"And lose my only bargaining chip? I thought you respected me more than that, Avatar…" He hauled Tenzin up by the scruff of the neck. "No, Master Tenzin and I are going to have a little more fun together."

Tenzin closed his eyes.

"I said I'll leave you alone!" she shouted. This should have been easy. It would have been, if they hadn't sent a complete psychopath. She felt like she was like being suffocated all over again. A thin red line appeared on his white throat. "Please. Please. Don't do this, please."

Huan turned to look at the doorway for a fraction of a second. Korra didn't even think. His singed hands flew off Tenzin's cape and Tenzin fell to his knees, but Korra had already leapt over him and shoved Huan to the ground and hit him in the mouth. He groaned. She hit him again and felt his jaw break.

"Stay down," she growled. "I'll rip your spine out. That's a promise."

He was out cold, anyway, which meant that Tenzin was the only person to hear her. Whoops. She turned towards him and burned the ropes off his hands and feet, her fingers shaking so badly that she seared a hole in his shoe.

"Shit! Sorry. Are you okay? Tenzin? Hey, are you okay? We have to…" She tore the gag from his mouth and he took a long, rattling breath. "Are you alright?"

His voice was hoarse. She didn't want to think about why. "I think…they broke…my leg…"

"It's okay. Come on, I can carry you, let's get out of here. Looks like he got your neck, huh?"

The thin red line was still oozing gently. Another centimeter deeper and he would be bleeding to death in her arms, but much more terrifying than that was the empty look in his eyes. She remembered how she had felt, after the Red Lotus. I don't understand. I don't understand.

She put an arm under his shoulder. He wasn't heavy. "Let's go."

He was discharged from the hospital a few hours later. The healer gave her a long list: a fractured leg, a sprained wrist, a bruised chin, and multiple systematic lacerations and burns to the chest.

"He's been tortured," said the healer, flatly, taking her glasses off and rubbing the space between her eyes. Korra felt a dull pang of confirmation in her chest. "So that's something to keep in mind. Physically, he should be back to normal in a couple of weeks, if he rests."

Her name was Biyu Yang. Korra looked around the office. There was a poster on the wall about the dangers of spiritual imbalances: WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU HAD YOUR CHI CHECKED?, over a drawing of a man with a blue cloud over his head.

Nothing surprised her anymore. "And otherwise?"

The healer shrugged. "I'll defer to my more experienced colleagues on that one. You, Avatar," she said, smiling, when Korra looked confused. "I'm talking about you. Use some of that spiritual wisdom you're so renowned for."

"Yeah," she said, wrapping her arms around her legs. The chair was uncomfortable. "I don't know about that. I'm not feeling so spiritually wise at the moment."

"You've had a shock," said Yang, not unkindly. "He's a friend, that's perfectly normal. Try to take it easy for a few days."

Pema had already picked Tenzin up. She wandered outside, into the mid-morning sun, past the tight, anxious faces streaming into the hospital. She thought about going home and calling Mako but decided against it. Korra didn't want a police officer's perspective, not today.

Instead she got food from a hawker stand. The cashier acknowledged her with a short nod of recognition before handing her a heavily discounted bowl of mixed seafood noodles. She was the only customer sitting outside, in the cold, but someone's toddler wandered up to her anyway.

"Hey, you," she said. The little girl's hair stuck out from under her hat in wild curls. "Where's mom and dad?"

"Zhu Lin!" screamed a woman in a full-length fur coat, rounding the corner, eyes wild.

"Oops," whispered Korra. "Looks like it's time to go home. You want some shrimp?"

"Okay," said the girl, sticking out a hand. Her mother bowed in nervous greeting and hauled the her child away by the arm.

She took the long way home to her apartment. Naga was waiting eagerly at the door to greet her.

"Thanks, girl," she said, wiping spit off her face. "You too."

Naga whined and looked past her into the hallway with passionate longing.

"Oh no," she said, "not right now. I'm going to sleep. I'll walk you first thing in the morning, ok? I promise."

It was barely evening but as soon as her head hit the pillow she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

A week later Tenzin could walk, or at least that's what Pema said on the telephone when she invited her to Air Temple Island for dinner, "just for fun." It turned out he could walk, and also, as it turned out, do a passable impression of the now former President Raiko sending an army of squirrel-monkeys off to war. They had tea in the kitchen after dinner, the three of them, before Pema yawned theatrically and said she was getting too old to keep up. She was sixteen years younger than her husband and a much better liar. Tenzin pecked her on the cheek on her way out.

Korra made a face. "Eugh, you're so love with her."

"Very astute," he said, cheerfully. "Thank you for helping with the dishes."

"I always help with the dishes."

"Well, this time you didn't break any."

"That was once! And I replaced the whole set! Eventually!"

"You're right…wasn't that when you first came here?"

"For someone who's not supposed to value material things, you sure have a long memory."

He shrugged. "I'm a father. It comes with the territory."

She groaned. "Don't say 'territory,' I don't want to talk about work. I don't even want to think about work."

"Then what do you want to talk about?"

She gave him a look. "I can't just come over for dinner like I've been doing for years?"

"You're always welcome to, but I have the sense that there's something on your mind."

"It's just that…" She caved. By now she knew it was useless to try to avoid difficult conversations with him, that avoiding them would only make them more painful when they inevitably happened, but still, she tried to put it off by listening to the ticking of the clock on the wall. When she opened her mouth the thought that had been plaguing her for years came out perfect, fully-formed, like it had been waiting to be given a voice.

"One of these times, it's going to be the last time."

Tenzin put down his tea and smoothed the front of his shirt. "What do you mean?"

"Last week. I got you out of there in one piece, but…"

"…One day, your luck will run out?" he finished. She nodded.

"Has this been bothering you?"

Korra ran her hands through her hair. She was growing it out, and it was an awkward length. "Constantly."

"You could have said something," he said, with mild reproach.

"Not when I needed you there."

"Ah. And now that I'm more of, let's say, a liability…"

"No. You're not a liability. It's just that—now that—"

"Now that I'm older, and slower…"

"Well, yes! I worry, alright? You don't know what it's like! I don't understand why you can't just send one of the acolytes! Opal's good, almost as good as Jinora!"

"She's certainly in fighting shape."

"I just…" She curled her hands into fists and tried to control her breathing, but it was impossible. "And Pema, and the kids...I don't know how you sleep at night."

There was a long silence. Tenzin finished his tea and laced his hands together. He was staring at the table with meditative concentration.

"You're my family, too," he said, finally. "I thought that would be obvious to you."

"I'm not your father," she said, before she could stop herself.

"I don't think about it that way, and you know it. If Meelo got into trouble with a triad, which is a distinct possibility, by the way, but that's another story…I would be there to help, even though I'm slower and weaker than I was when I was younger. Even if I can only make him feel safer. Even if my role is strictly advisory. He's my son. I have to do that. It's not a choice."

"That's not the same at all."

Now he was frustrated. "It is to me. I know that's inconvenient for you."

"Inconvenient?" she shouted. "I love you! That's inconvenient!"

Tenzin raised his eyebrows. There was only one possible response but he gave it sincerely.

"I love you too, Korra. That's what I've been trying to say."

She laughed miserably. "Yeah."

"Do you think Pema and I haven't discussed this? It came up before we were even engaged. We've been having this conversation for twenty years. She knows who she married. She knows the risks, and she's accepted them."

"Your children didn't ask for this."

"No, my children didn't ask to be born," he said, an edge in his voice. "But the last time I checked, they seemed happy enough with that decision."

"They're alright with the fact that their father could be killed doing his job?"

"That he's mortal? They don't have much of a choice in that, either."

"You're putting yourself in harm's way," she began, but he interrupted her.

"So are you. The role you play in the world affects the people in your life the same way mine, or anyone else's does."

She tapped her fingers on the table, trying and failing to come up with a counterpoint. Tenzin was right, of course. She wished he would at least be smug about it so she could have the luxury of the moral high ground. "How do I stop thinking about this?"

He sighed. "When I figure it out, I'll let you know."

"Really? You seem so at peace."

"Not all the time. I had thought, at least, that my own mortality had begun to trouble me less, but at times it can be very difficult. I'm told it gets worse with age."

"Just another thing to look forward to."

"As I keep telling myself."

Korra leaned back, a little shaky with relief. "So…wait, wait, did you say Meelo's in with the triads?"

He laughed. "He has an idea or two about an opium ring. Chief Beifong calls me twice a week telling me to get him out of her…well, you know."

"Her hair."

"That's what I told him," he said, smiling into his empty cup.

"Is he thinking about joining the force?"

"No, I don't think so. Oh, no, could you imagine?"

"Yes. Ooh, imagine him with a partner. Imagine him driving."

"Don't joke about that. That's never, ever, ever happening. I think he's been preemptively banned, and if he hasn't, I'm going go down to city hall and do it myself."

"Ah…" She grinned. "I almost didn't come over here."

"Really?"

"I was worried that if I said it out loud, that would make it real."

"For what it's worth…I'm very glad you did."

She walked over the counter to get more tea and stopped to squeeze his head in a one-armed hug. "Me too. How's the leg?"

He reached up to pat her arm. "Sore. I'll get over it. I have an appointment with that healer tomorrow."

"Are you okay? Like, other than your leg?"

"Hmm." He accepted the second cup of tea. "I have to admit, I can still…"

"What?"

"Well."

She stared at him. "That's not going to work on me. Come on, spit it out."

His voice was very quiet. "The way the blade felt on my neck. I don't think I'm ever going to forget that."

The advice came automatically. She had lived this, after all. "You won't. But after a while…it won't scare you to remember. It'll just be a bad thing that happened. That's all."

"I don't understand. This isn't the first time I've been captured. And it's certainly not the first time I've had the tar beaten out of me."

"But it's the first time you've been tortured, right?"

Korra spoke softly but he still flinched at the word. "Yes. Maybe that's it. The idea that someone would cause pain for the sake of causing pain disturbs me, and to see or experience that fact, I'd heard before, can be..."

"Yeah. I know."

He stroked his beard. "I had a nightmare about it, actually. I was…back there…and this time he went through with it…there was blood everywhere, you were…oh…" He took a deep breath and covered his face with his hands. "Distraught."

It was such a vivid mental image that she reached reflexively across the table to hold his arm. She felt like someone was pushing a needle through her chest, but to her own surprise her voice was clear and even. "After I was poisoned, I had that kind of nightmare all the time. It happened over and over, but it's just your mind's way of looking for a reason."

"Even though there isn't one."

"Exactly."

He rubbed his eyes. He looked tired, but he'd have looked tired whether he was sleeping nights or not. Fear wrings you dry. "You're very good at this."

She smiled. "Avatar wisdom, I guess."

"No, um." He looked at the floor. The silence stretched out into an endless empty moment.

It's okay. Now she was attempting telepathy. Maybe she could feel it hard enough to transfer it through her fingers, which were still clutching at his sleeve.

"I think that's all you," he said, meeting her eyes. "Experience is an excellent teacher. I only wish it wasn't so cruel."

The door opened.

"Midnight strategy session, huh?" said Bumi, boisterously. He saw the look on Tenzin's face and froze. "Oh. Is this a bad time?"

"No, not at all." He picked an imaginary piece of lint off his sleeve with fastidious care. It was such an obvious attempt to delay speaking that Korra turned around to smile at Bumi, who winked back. Tenzin cleared his throat, still fiddling with his sleeve. "Do you happen to have a handkerchief? My nose is running."

Bumi patted his pockets. "Um, sure…"

"We were just talking about last week," said Korra, getting up to leave.

"Right," said Bumi, comprehension dawning. "Right. Anyway, I just wanted one of those delicious red bean buns, so…as long as I'm up, would you like a ride home, Avatar?"

She helped Tenzin to his feet and took her staff from against the wall, where it had been leaning. "I think I'll fly, actually."

"What?" said Bumi, too loudly.

Tenzin glared at him. "It's very late at night."

It's freezing out!" said Bumi, in an exaggerated whisper.

Korra couldn't help but laugh. "It's pretty mild."

"Water tribe," he said. "You're all freaks, all of you."

"Did you know," said Tenzin, perking up, "that there was a firebender in the third century that could—"

"Sifu, it's two in the morning," said Bumi, clapping his brother too hard on the shoulder. "Give her a rest."

He winced. "Right."

Korra turned to Tenzin. "If there's anything you need—"

"Then I'll talk to Pema. You have bigger things to worry about than me."

"Don't be stupid," she said, leaning up to hug him. "I can always make time. My door is open."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

"Anytime…sifu." She winked.

"Don't call me that!"

She walked away, spinning her staff and grinning to herself. Their voices floated down the hall behind her.

"Why do you feel the need to talk?"

"She's going to get a lot of mileage out of that one…what can I say, I help where I can."

Bumi unwrapped a bun. He would have turned the lights off if he'd been alone. He liked the kitchen at night, bathed in moonlight. It was the only time you could get any peace and quiet around here.

"How old is she again? These kids all look the same to me."

"Twenty-five."

Bumi hissed. "That's too young."

"Twenty-six in a month," said Tenzin. "Exactly a month, now that I think about it."

"Still. Spirits. For what she's been through?"

"Yeah," said Tenzin.

"She's stronger than either of us, that's for sure."

Bumi held out another bun. Tenzin shook his head but moved to stand next to him. "In more ways than you know," he said, folding his arms.

"Oh, I don't doubt that. You know, you kept beating yourself up about how she was raised…but she turned out just fine."

"Yes. She did. I wonder if she's right."

Bumi put his hands in his pockets and didn't say anything.

"In a way...it would make things simpler, to be unattached. You'd have more...energy. And fewer scenarios to torture yourself with when you can't sleep. That's not nothing."

"No," said Bumi slowly, "It's not. More time, too. Best a parent can hope for, huh?"

"That's not funny."

The older man balled up the wax paper wrapping and tossed it into the trashcan. It landed perfectly. "Wasn't meant as a joke. Hey, you know what? She is right. Love's a losing game."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I figured it out a long time ago. No one should ever fall in love, or get married, or have kids, or siblings, or choose their friends. All of it, the whole thing, it's a big scheme. A racket."

Tenzin snorted. "That's absurd."

"No, I really..." He smiled, unable to help himself. "You see? I can't even keep a straight face. That's how you sound."

"Okay," Tenzin conceded, rubbing the back of his head. "Maybe."

He picked up another bun from the pile and rolled it around experimentally. Pema had drawn a little flower on the wrapping, at the place where the corners of the paper intersected in the middle. For some reason this was acutely painful to notice.

"It's worth it," he said. "No one would do it, otherwise. Your problem is that you think love and duty are the same thing."

"What? No I don't. What do you mean, they're not the same thing?"

"And you know how I can tell?" said Bumi, as though Tenzin hadn't spoken. "You actually think that I'm up at this time of night because I'm hungry."

"Oh, forgive me, your voracious appetite for winning arguments must have thrown me off. No," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't...I'm sorry. I understand what you mean. What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Bumi said. "I just remembered you complaining about Korra not admitting she was afraid of something, giving you back-talk when you tried to help. It was a while ago, maybe when everything was happening with the Equalist movement. You said she was becoming defensive. 'Deflecting,' I think, was your exact phrase."

"Oh, no. Really?" he laughed. "Oh, no. That lines up nicely."

"It's perfect," said Bumi, cracking up again.

Tenzin shook his head and shifted his weight off the counter and began to walk, haltingly, towards the door. "I'm going to try to get some sleep."

"Good idea. Say hi to Pema, she's still up. Reading."

"Is she? I thought I told her she could go to bed."

He shrugged expansively. "I don't know. I don't understand married people."

"Do you think there's an age that isn't?" said Tenzin, turning at the door.

"Isn't what?"

His voice was like lead. "Too young."

Bumi thought about it for a second. "Fifty! You'll be dead by then."

Tenzin gave him a murderous look.

"That was a joke," said Bumi sweetly. "Go to sleep. Don't think about it too much. Oh, and…"

"What."

"Nothing. Don't miss your healer appointment tomorrow."

"People keep telling me that today," said Tenzin, after a moment.

"I can't imagine why."

Tenzin nodded. Message received.

Bumi stared at the bun. Now he couldn't decide whether or not he was hungry. He lifted a corner of the paper, breaking the line of the flower. His nieces and nephews were sound asleep upstairs. This was supposed to be their lunch tomorrow (or, he thought grimly, later today). After several minutes of rumination he wet his finger with water from the sink and smoothed it back down so it was whole again, and then put the bun on the counter with the rest of them. He thought about mentioning this little drama to Pema, in the morning, but decided against it. It would be impossible to explain.