Reconciliation

Number of words: 1686

Summary: Lin has always loved Tenzin; that is what she does. Linzin, Tenlin, whatever you want to call it.

Author's note: Rewatching Korra last night. I really really don't like Makorra (as does most of the Avatard community) and love Lin. (Again, like most of the Avatard community.) My take on Lin's and Tenzin's relationship. I always thought it had to be something far bigger than Lin's inability to have children (as most fan theories say) which drove them apart. Also, I miss writing prose so much.

Air is supposed to be the element of freedom.

Having been with Tenzin for so long though, Lin thinks he is more Fire Nation than anything else. The air bender always placed Duty and Obligation before all else, never letting them get in the way of anything, even his own needs.

It has always been this way, and Lin has always been there to take care of him whenever he forgets about himself, which is often. From a very young age, they had both known that Tenzin was important; after all, he was the only Air bender of the Avatar's children. Great things were expected from him. He was to carry on the Air bending tradition. And he saw it his duty to always, always help others, no matter what. Tenzin has always been kind, painfully so.

There was the time when they were five, and Tenzin attempted to return a baby eagle hawk to its nest. In the process, he disturbed a nest of scorpion bees, and she had to earth bend a little tent, where they huddled together for hours listening to the angry buzz of the scorpion bees trying to find a way in. She had cursed at him the entire time, but he never apologized, insisting that he had done the right thing.

And there was the time when Tenzin had attempted to pluck a snow lily to give his mother, and had fallen into greaseberry brambles. Lin had been the one to pull him off the brambles, and helped him to pull the thorns embedded in his wounds, even from the unmentionable places he couldn't reach. (Or more like couldn't bear to pull out himself, that wimp.)

Then there was the time when they were twelve, and they had taken a wrong turn while looking for that seaweed noodle shop in Republic City, and stumbled down the a shady street. One man was being robbed by one of the underground triads; there were at least four other men – benders, all of them – surrounding him. One of them, a fire bender, was just about to roast the victim's face. There had been no time to call for help, and Tenzin had yelled at them to stop. Of course, the triad members didn't take kindly to being told what to do by a nosy teenager, and rounded on them immediately. It was Lin who ended up thrashing their sorry asses.

The list went on and on, but it was clear to everyone that Lin belonged next to Tenzin, where she cared for him when his own needs didn't come anywhere near his duties. Perhaps that was why they believed that Lin belonged with Tenzin. Maybe that was why she believed it so easily herself.

Because, really, no one was surprised – spirits, everyone expected the two of them to get together. Be a couple. Whatever you wanted to call it. And when they did, it was good, better than good. It was easy, natural, as it had always been. As it was always meant to be. He trained, and later, taught at Air Temple Island while she trained in Republic City to become the best police officer there was. (No one is ever going to say she got her position because of her mother's influence. This is her job, and she does it well, and anyone who disagreed with her was welcome to spend a night in the cells with all the criminals she had rounded up.)

Tenzin often came to her apartment in the city. She had given him the spare key, and in those long exhausting days, it was his turn to look after her.

You're looking as radiant as ever, Lin, he'd say, tea in hand, a smile on his face.

Cut the crap, Tenzin, she'd say, but with a smile, before falling into his arms. (Many cups of tea were spilt like that.)

They'd spend hours, talking. Republic City was their city, theirs both. They would keep the peace, ensure every nation was equally and fairly represented, rid the city of crime. It was their dream, their future together.

Then he became part of the United Republic Council, which was, again, expected. Not because he was the only air bender left apart from the Avatar, but because he was strong and capable and brilliant. And he had a vision for Republic City –his and hers combined – and the drive to see it through.

Then, it was her turn to care for him; visiting him in his office in the week hours of the morning to find he had passed out amongst the reports and papers. She was the one who covered him with blankets as he shivered in his sleep, the one who nagged at him to eat and brought him take-outs when she knew he hadn't, took him out in the sun for walks when he got too scrawny.

Life went on, as it always had; hectic, but mostly good.

It took years before they thought of it though. Avatar Aang had passed away, as had Lin's mother. One day, Tenzin had come to her with a frown.

Lin, I, uh. His face was as red as the fire lilies on her desk. (A gift from him of course.)

Spit it out, Tenzin, she'd said, and given him a kiss on the cheek.

His eyes were fixed on the floor. Why do you think you haven't had any children yet?

They talked about it (as they always did, they always talked about their problems) and then there was a visit to a healer, then another one, and then his mother. The verdict was the same. Lin felt hollow as she realised that she would never be a mother, but she never really considered it a huge loss; she hadn't wanted children after all. Taking care of Republic City was a full time job.

She never expected Tenzin to take the news so hard. And she was an idiot not to realise why sooner.

He came over less often, and when he did, he always seemed distant. In the end, she stormed over to Air Temple Island to demand an explanation. She didn't expect to find him in the arms of an Air Acolyte.

She had always known Tenzin's kindness could hurt. He was gentle, afraid to hurt others, and afraid to confront things in case they hurt her feelings. He was like his father like that. They could have talked it out, it could have been a clean break; upfront and painful, but she would have understood. After all, it was his duty, and duty has always been the only thing that could come between him and her. Perhaps it would have made the healing easier. But when it came down to it, he didn't want to; he just ran.

She knew that she was being unfair, that his intentions were good. But spirits, did that idiot even think about the consequences if he were found out?

After that, she never goes went back to her apartment but sleeps in her office. Republic City becomes rowdier after the death of the Avatar, and it demands her full attention. She tells herself she doesn't care what Tenzin does; she doesn't go to his wedding, ignores him whenever they meet at functions or meetings, blinks away any sign of tears whenever she hears, again and again about Pema's swelling belly, as well as his air bending children. (She wonders sometimes if this mess was her fault for not realizing it earlier. Maybe he wouldn't have tried to find comfort in another woman. But these moments never last long; there are too many other things to worry about.)

And one day, the Avatar arrives, and all hell breaks loose. Lin spends every waking moment trying to combat the Equalists. There is no time to think of anything else, so it really doesn't matter that she has to see Tenzin more and more often.

And at the Pro-bending Finals, he has the gall to remind her.

Just like old times?

She swallows, remembering their adventures together. It's like prodding an old, badly healed-wound, and she wants to shout at him, shake him hard. He has no right to remind her of old times, it is his fault that those old times are now a thing of the past.

But this is Tenzin, and she can never stay angry with him for long. Especially not when he looks at her like that.

Just like old times. She had forgotten just how much she had missed him.

But that doesn't mean that she forgives him.

The Avatar's presence turns their lives upside down. She fails her men – those she'd handpicked and trained from scratch, as dear to her as the city – and leaves the force. She has to work with him, and they search for the Avatar, for her kidnapped men, and in those few days, she spends more time with him than she has had for the last ten years.

Still, there is resentment, something deep and dark and black buried deep in her chest. She still wants to spit hurtful words at him, remind him of everything he didn't do, even as she cares for his children. (As she makes sure the imp Meelo doesn't soil himself, she wonders if this is the life they might have had together if only –) They are old friends, yes. They are also old, and they should have grown old together, not apart.

But when it finally came down to it, Lin realises she can't abandon Tenzin, especially not when she knows, despite all the resentment bubbling within her, that she is still in love with him. For this is what Lin does; she loves Tenzin. She had been angry at him, she had hated him, but in that one moment she forgave everything, and weren't you supposed to do all that the ones you loved? For him, she would do anything. It has nothing to do with duty, or honour, or any of that crap.

Whatever happens to me, don't turn back.

She runs, leaps.