Penumbra: a solar eclipse. An astronomic phenomenon in which the moon blocks out the sun when their paths through the sky intersect.

I was climbing into my rented Satomobile when I saw him walking to the station entrance. The leather upholstery was scorching in the summer sun, and I felt the heat through my shirt as if it didn't exist. He was ambling along the paved sidewalk, that old perplexed look on his face he used to get when he was deep in thought. I hadn't seen him or talked to him since our night out in the city, months ago. Three whole months and three more years- they flew by at the time, but seeing him in the flesh made that time seem like an eternity.

He was right in front of my car and still endearingly oblivious to it so I cracked open the door, planting my feet on the asphalt and sliding halfway out. "Hey, city boy."

I'll never forget the way he smiled, or how his face lit up to see me again. "Korra? Looks like I spotted a wild avatar," he said, throwing out his arms to his sides. "How are-"

I've never been the best at keeping correspondence alive when apart. Even with Asami, I could only manage a few letters here and there. But I barreled into Mako without a second thought, throwing my arms around him and feeling my teeth knock against his shoulder in an open-mouthed grin as my feet left the ground. It was all windswept hair and damp skin and laughter and lingering hands and I wondered how I had lived for so long without any of it. "I'm good," I heard myself saying, still grinning. "I'm great. Just picking up your permit?"

"For parking, yeah," he said, returning the smile. There were new thought lines etched on his forehead and a sadness around his eyes, as if work for the past three months had been far from fulfilling. "Are you here for the same?"

"Sort of," I said. "I was going to visit Lin, now that I'm back. I... I don't really know what to do with myself, when I come back to Republic City anymore. Everyone's grown up, and we've all moved on with our lives." I squinted up at him in the sun, privately wondering if he'd had the same five o' clock shadow grazing his jaw when I had seen him in the spring.

"Lin's not in," he said, arching a brow.

"I know, that's why I'm leaving," I said. "I thought you could figure things out from context, detective."

"Deputy, now." It was strange to me, realizing how much I missed that dorky smugness in his voice. It took me back, back to the days when he would write his one-liners down and actually use them. I wondered if he still did.

"Headed home?" I asked casually while fishing for a paper and pen. He nodded. "Here, it's the number for where I'm staying."

"Okay," he said, bemused. "I'll see you around, Korra. How long are you here for?"

"Until new year," I replied. "You should get in touch."

He was already walking away, and shrugged. "I'll think about it," he called. The satomobile somehow felt even hotter, and I rolled the windows down as I drove, thankful for the cool breeze blowing past my flushed cheeks.

o0o

I saw Mako again on my second day in the city, when I was leaving a cafe Asami and I used to frequent. I could still see the building in my peripheral vision when I noticed him coming towards me, and I waved, grinning when he gave a shout of recognition. "Hey," I said, and then he was hugging me and my feet were off the ground and the world was spinning in the best way. "You should've stopped by an hour ago," I reproached him. "I was just leaving."

"I just got off work," he said, pulling off his sunglasses. I could see my own face reflected back in his pupils, and I wondered at their dilation with so much sunlight around us; I was still squinting.

Part of me wanted him to ask me if I would stay. The part of me that knew Mako better than anyone else could already tell it wouldn't be happening. We made small talk, empty and inconsequential, and I excused myself too soon. "I guess I'll see you," I said quietly, and this time I hugged him goodbye.

"Yeah, I'll see you," he said softly, his jaw moving against the side of my head as he spoke.

And he did the next time, when I was still dressed for a press conference in the deep navy skirt Asami had bought me for my twenty-fourth birthday. The blouse was actually my own purchase, a sleeveless shift made entirely of stiff cream lace worn over a white tank top. The pieces worked well together, even if they were completely useless; I couldn't so much as run in that skirt, much less bend.

It was worth keeping for sentimentality and formal appearances, though. I returned to that same cafe to see Mako at a table, reading a case file, and he looked up at the sound of my footsteps. A woman was sitting next to him, with sandy brown hair and fair skin and light grey-blue eyes. They made an interesting contrast to the inhabitants of a couch not far from their seats; a couple that looked to be about eighteen or so was happily chattering, their arms intertwined and their expressions like those of children off in their own world.

"Hey," I said, bending over his seat. "What are you reading?"

"Something for work," he said.

"Great," I said. The woman appraised me silently. "Just great."

The time it took me to place an order, get a pot of tea, and chat with the kid at the counter took just long enough. By the time I made my way back to Mako's table, his companion was getting up to leave. She nodded in my direction, murmuring "Avatar Korra" softly along with something unintelligible. I was used to it. Everyone remembered the avatar first and Korra second. It was what I had always wanted, and had always been mentally prepared for. But sometimes it was nice to just be Korra, without the extra association to an all-powerful spirit.

"How are you?" Mako said, jerking his head in my direction. "Didn't think I'd see you again so soon."

"I told you, I'm great. Who's the girl?"

"Coworker," he said.

"Ah."

Conversation was suddenly so hard. With Asami, I had no fear of dead airspace; every minute was full of chatter. Part of me tossed around ideas, thinking of stories I could tell him or ways to ask him to share his with me. And then I remembered why Mako was always a constant in my life, and why that need to fill the air between us with our words was silly. His was the sort of company I could just enjoy without worry, the kind that meant hours of silence and reassuring touches and communication that didn't need words.

"Korra?"

"Hmm?"

"I said I just wrapped up," he said, leaning forward. "Did you plan on staying longer?"

My tea arrived and I paused, seeing disappointment twitch over his face. "No," I said, looking at the teenagers on the couch, their bodies aligned and their faces turned to each other. One had black hair, one had sandy brown. "Send the tea over to those kids," I said to the server. "I was just leaving."

o0o

We left the cafe in silence, we wandered the paved sidewalks in conviviality. The midday sun was less oppressive than it had been the day of my return and as I looked skyward I could see a pale sliver of moon, rising like a horned sylph in the east between billowing clouds. We could see the beginnings of sunset, and feel the whispers of early evening breeze on our faces. Mako's eyes were guarded, but I felt them on me every time I looked away. There was palpable tension when we got in his car that stayed with us for a drive that seemed to lack a destination. I didn't care. We didn't talk much, but there was something soothing about the company. I didn't realize I had taken his hand until I felt the warmth under my fingers. He didn't pull back, and so I left my fingers folded over his.

"I'm driving."

"You have two hands," I retorted.

He smiled, but didn't say anything. I felt the tendons relax under my touch, and I smiled too.

He parked at the pier and we sat back in his cop car, watching moonrise and sunset unfold in front of us. "Don't look," he said suddenly. "Shit, don't look."

"What? Why-?" I began, frowning when he grabbed my face and turned it away from the brilliantly dyed horizon.

"Do you want to burn your retinas?" he snapped. "Solar eclipse. You picked a good week to come back, Korra. Republic City has front-row seats."

"I want to watch," I said, catching his hands in mine and holding them tight, smirking when he couldn't free himself. "Wait, does this mean you can't firebend now?"

"You can't either," Mako said. "Don't you dare look-"

"I want to watch," I insisted, and dropped his hands in time for him to grit his teeth and pinch the bridge of his nose, heaving an exasperated sigh.

"Fine," he muttered. "Then wear my shades, I don't want you blinding yourself."

"Then how will you watch, smart guy?"

"I'll watch the reflection in the lenses." And he did, watching me watch the moon overtake the sun, its pearly iridescence giving way to smoky greys and deep indigo as it passed the firey orb. The flares of orange and gold fanned into grey and violet as light was obscured, and we were thrown into dusk long before the hour had dawned as the celestial bodies aligned. A halo of white flame surrounded the moon, which burned all the while with the warm tones of sunset.

"Amazing," I said. "Mako, are you watching this?"

He nodded in my peripheral vision. "That's some eclipse."

"Do you miss your bending?"

"No," he said, grinning for the first time. "I have a pretty good replacement for now."

I felt myself smiling too, and we watched in silence until the moon began to leave its position in front of the sun, freeing up beams of light that seemed to sear my eyes even with the glasses. My hands found Mako's cheeks involuntarily, and I turned him to face me. "Don't hurt your eyes," I said, pulling off the glasses and returning them to his nose. "It's your turn to watch."

"I want you to see it," he said, reaching up to remove them. "You always appreciate these things more than me-"

"No," I said as I caught his hands again. "I'll... watch the reflection in the lenses."

"Okay."

But he didn't turn back to the horizon, and the reflected image was distorted. "Mako, I can't see it." He didn't say anything, and I huffed. "I can't see it because you won't-"

And then he kissed me. Kissed me, for the first time in six years, and the reflection of the moon and sun united in the sky was reflected back at me in his lenses and I closed my eyes. I didn't miss conversations without end, or endless questions about where my avatar responsibilities would take me. I felt quiet reassurance in that kiss; I felt his words from years ago rushing back to me. I felt calm, realizing that hours spent without idle talk and more hours spent in playful chatter weren't gone from my life, when a camera shutter clicked and jolted us to reality.

I jerked back, scowling at the photographer who had evidently found a subject more interesting than the solar eclipse. "Great, look what you did."

Mako pulled off the sunglasses, blushing furiously. "So now you're blaming me? Korra, I-"

"Of course I'm blaming you! You kissed me!"

"You kissed me back!" But then he saw I was smirking, and he rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "Like old times, huh?"

I returned the shades to his face and leaned over the stick, kissing his cheek before rolling up the car windows. "I think we can do better than old times." We watched the moon slip past the sun's glow, feeling the furnaces returning to our limbs as its energy surged over the ocean and pier. Leaning my head on his shoulder, I knew that the ephemerality of the eclipse did not reflect of the permanence we would enjoy in the years to come.

FIN

For Sarah.