Disclaimer: All creative rights to the characters and the universe of Avatar: The Legend of Korra belong to their original creators. No profit is made from this story as it is written for entertainment purposes only.

A/N: The very reasons that make Tahno the guy you just love to hate prompted me to write this. I couldn't leave him like the series did. You'll find no sugar-coating here... and I pray to the spirits he'll never change.
Thank You fuuko no miko for proofreading this for me. You're the first letter of every alphabet.

Rebound

He walked down the dimly lit streets of Republic City without hurry. Amon's face smirked at him from an old, faded poster glued to a similarly colorless wall. His spit swiftly covered the masked face but he did not pay it further attention. It had become habit every time he crossed paths with the mask. Curfew would be starting soon, but he was in no rush and his stride wasn't particularly purposeful. It wasn't like he hadn't been imprisoned already for much less than walking around at dusk. It wasn't like he hadn't been punished enough.

The metal bending police -what was left of it- was no longer the all-seeing, all-powerful, all-daring force of weeks prior. They patrolled in groups larger than mere pairs and they were thinly spread around the city. Security was vaguely a memory of better days. The law enforcement officials were afraid, just like anyone with anything left to lose to the ideals of the revolution.

That wasn't his case. He had lost all he cared about. Granted, it could be argued he still had his life and his freedom, but little did he care about any of those. All who knew him -and many did, since he had been a prominent public figure after all- could not stop commenting in low whispers his ears picked up as clearly as if they were shouts on the changes equalization had brought in the young man.

For starters, he no longer looked anything like a young man. He was, in fact, a far cry from the proud, confident, poised captain of the White Falls Wolfbats. He felt tired, hopeless... defeated. Gone were the days where he enjoyed the life of success as he boasted to the four winds about the three Pro-Bending Championship Tournaments under his belt, for he had lost a part of his soul the night they won the fourth and found he had nothing left.

Life was just not worth living. For who was he without his bending? If he still carried through the motions, it was simply because even the will to end himself now eluded him. That was him without bending. No one. Nothing. Just another empty shell withering away in the refugee center where he had found a place to stay among other pariahs. The recesses housed those feared for their bending, bender supporters, and the few -like him- who through dumb luck alone had avoided imprisonment in Equalist camps but were unwanted because the new order considered them still tainted. Impure.

Bending defined him. It had always been a part of himself and he still would find his body betraying him with graceful movements designed to bend water to his will, to only be dully reminded the element was no longer his to command. Relinquishing that ability, that gift the spirits had bestowed upon his conception, was equal to relinquishing the will to breathe.

Thus he suffocated in the underground when Republic City turned his back on him. In the dwindling light of the sunset, just seconds before the electric lighting came on, he took a sharp turn into a particularly dark alley, knocked a distinct pattern on a metal door, and swiftly entered the rundown building that would provide him shelter for the night and remind him of all he used to be and was no more.

Everyone was out under the cold winter sun, bewildered expressions mingling with demonstrations of joy and relief. Republic City was free of the Equalist siege and there was no need to hide anymore. Along with those who could rejoice, the large ranks of the equalized finally free to roam around, ghostly shells of their former selves, able at least to hug their families and start figuring out what next. After all, not even the Avatar had been able to survive Amon unscathed.

"He was a bender!"

"Not just a bender. A bloodbender!"

"Yakone's son! Councilman Tarrlok too!"

"How could we not have seen?"

Perhaps too busy being jealous of others' gifts? Distracted while gloating about what was robbed from others?

"His face wasn't even burned, it was all make up..."

"He played us. He didn't want equality. He wanted power!"

"They escaped. Both of Yakone's sons. Cowards."

Like they would want to spend time getting cozy with you.

"Did you hear? The Avatar left for the Southern Water Tribe."

"I hope they can help her there. It's so sad... such a young girl..."

Yeah. Now you feel sorry.

"All the healers in town say it's permanent."

"But now she can bend air, when she couldn't before!"

He snorted at the anonymous comment. Air. Nobody in his right mind would be happy to settle for bending air. Least of all the Avatar. Hadn't they seen her command earth, water and fire to her whims? Air. Of all the lame jokes.

Shaking his head, he parted from the small crowd, hands in pockets, the once proud gait now dragging slow feet, the once straight shoulders now almost permanently hunched.

At least she sent the bloodbending bastard packing.

The Avatar was back.

News of her return traveled fast around the city, especially considering that she brought with herself a solution to restore everyone's lost bending. She had settled back on Air Temple Island and started performing nothing less than miracles right away. The rock located in the outskirts of Yue Bay once again filled with long lines of benders, only this time it was the Avatar who waited for them at the end of the queue to give back what had been forcefully taken.

Most of his time every day was now spent on the port, watching the ferry transport passengers to the island and back. Many passengers, none of them himself. Perhaps the next trip, he considered idly at times. Others he just knew he wasn't going.

As days passed and the visitors to the island dwindled, he stepped on the ferry as an afterthought one bright morning right before the plank was leveled and the deck vibrated under his feet with the soft humming of the steam-powered machine.

Bending the knee before her on the open stone plateau was one of the most hateful things he ever had to do. Second only to kneeling before the masked hypocrite who had stolen his bending in the arena. But he schooled his features to feigned indifference and witnessed first hand what legends were made of.

She obviously recognized him, but did not waste time with pleasantries, nor hesitation. Her eyes sparkled with some confusing emotion he could only classify as mirth. At least, they were no longer filled with guilt and pity like they had in their last encounter at the police headquarters, spirits knew how many moons previous. She placed one hand on his forehead. The other found its place over his heart. Wind picked up around them, playing with her hair. The young woman closed her eyes, to open them transformed into luminescent orbs. It took only a few seconds, after which she detached herself from him and he stood up.

"Nicely done, Uh-vatar," Tahno smirked cockily, easily bending water long-range from a drain. The translucent sphere levitating over his hand reflected the light of the midday sun, shining in soft teal hues. "Especially considering how nervous and insecure you feel around me."

He was back, too.

"Don't party just yet, Tahno," her grin matched his. Hands on hips, back straight and her head poised like the figure on a banner poster, she added "I just need to make sure you'll join the next pro-bending competition, so I can legally kick your ass."

She was a goddess among men, but with his bending back, Tahno was no less. The four times pro-bending champion's smile widened shamelessly, his soft drawl carried silkily to her ears.

"I can't wait."