A/N: Thank you for reading! I'm planning to update one chapter a week until this story is complete.
.*.*.*.
I
Blocked
Amon settled into his chair alongside the other Councillor assistants and tapped his thick stack of papers against the table to straighten them.
"Another big presentation from the Equalists?" asked Sun, the Earth Kingdom assistant, lip curled. "What is it this time, special tax breaks for non-benders?"
He raised a brow at her from underneath his hood, and then turned back to his papers. Though he had triple-checked them late the night before – and early into the morning – he began to flip through them again. Seeing she was being ignored, the Earth Kingdom assistant leaned closer.
"Well, you picked a good day to do it. I heard that the Avatar is finally back from Ba Sing Se."
He pretended to ignore her, but excitement kindled in his stomach. He had never considered himself to be a needy person, given that he had spent most of his life aloof and alone, but four weeks without Korra had felt like an eternity. Now that they both had a role within the Council, he was accustomed to seeing her nearly every day of the week – though the majority of that was time spent pretending there was nothing between them. The nights, however, were theirs, and they had been spending them together with increasing frequency. That night, in particular, was one he had big plans for – though his need was growing desperate enough that he wasn't sure he had the patience to wait. The instant he clamped eyes on her, he was sure, every fibre of his body would be screaming at him to march up to her and kiss her in front of the entire Council, secrets be damned.
Sun leaned closer still. "So, I heard a rumour that you were up to some fun last night."
He stiffened and turned to stare at her. She smirked. His mind whirled with a million responses, but a voice interrupted before he gave in to the temptation to speak:
"Zoran." Midori was walking up to him, her heels clacking against the marble. "Can I speak to you?"
He stood, tucked the files under his arm and followed her into the hallway. It was only when they were out of earshot from the others that he spoke, his voice low:
"The proposal is on page three. The first two are answers to the questions they are likely to ask, and the last pages are the speech. Use the speech only if they refuse the proposal outright. If they need time to consider, then use the closing argument from the final page."
"Wait, slow down," she said. Normally they had several days to prepare for the Equalist party to have the floor, but this proposal had been rushed.
Amon held out the papers for her. "Just take a moment to flip through it – it's self-explanatory. Remember to use more hand gestures. They won't trust you if you come across as wooden."
Her lips pursed at him, no doubt disapproving of his condescension, but she accepted the papers and flipped through them. "Did you sleep?"
"Not at all. You?"
She shook her head, running a hand through her salt-and-pepper hair. "I was on the phone with Chief Beifong until the wee hours of the morning."
"And?"
"And you aren't in jail, so that's something." She sighed. "I didn't get very far. I'll keep working at it. You're going to be the death of me."
"Maybe so, but I'm also going to get you noticed if you play these cards right." He tapped the papers in her hand. "Don't forget: hand gestures."
"I liked it better when I was behind the scenes and you were doing the speaking," she muttered, marching back toward the hall. He followed, silently agreeing.
As he entered the hall, his gaze locked to the centre of the Council table.
Korra had arrived.
Trying to be as stealthy as possible, he glanced at her, taking in her traditional Earth Kingdom-style green dress, accessorized up-do and heavy makeup. His mouth went dry and his palms grew damp, and he chastised himself for reacting like a schoolboy in love. She was chatting earnestly with the Councillor from the Earth Kingdom, no doubt spinning her words with the diplomatic flair that she was cultivating. Amon himself had been coaching her recently, teaching her the poise that created a commanding presence. If he could no longer lead, then the least he could do was help others develop their leadership skills.
She looked up and caught his eye. They had grown adept at giving platonic nods of greeting, colleagues and nothing more. Today, however, her head ducked away without acknowledging him. Puzzling. His brows pinched as he returned to his seat.
"The Avatar looks stunning," whispered Sun, who had apparently noticed his admiration. He shot her a disapproving look to silence her.
Tenzin called the meeting to order, and Amon opened his ledger and began to write. His note-taking was more for show than anything – Midori had an eidetic memory, and his writing was impossible for her to read anyhow. Often, he ended up drafting speeches and proposals for future use, but today he could not concentrate. He caught himself staring idly at Korra, trying to read the furrow in her brow. She still wouldn't look at him.
After several agenda items that held no interest to him, Midori was called to the floor. As she began to speak, Amon leaned forward on his elbows, hands clasped in front of his mouth. The proposal to aggressively hunt down the Red Monsoons was counter to the Council's current pro-peace stance, and his eyes trailed across the members, judging their reactions. Councillor Tenzin, as expected, looked horrified, but the others seemed to be listening – except Korra. Her eyes were downcast, her blinks so infrequent that he could tell her mind was nowhere near the meeting. His heart twinged.
The coaching he had been giving Midori was paying off – as she spoke, her voice strengthened, her hands open to her audience. He smiled to himself as the Council members leaned forward in response.
"...and given that Red Monsoon activity has been escalating in the city's east side, including the use of bloodbending-"
"Bloodbending?" Tenzin stood. "That has never been proven."
There was a scripted response to that on page two, but instead Midori shook her head. "My assistant witnessed it himself just last night."
A bad card to play. Amon cursed under his breath.
As expected, Tenzin did not let it slide: "Yes, we have all heard about Zoran's...legal troubles."
Every eye in the room snapped onto him. Even Korra jolted to attention, looking at him with confusion. He held her gaze, using the calm stare he had practice for years, not changing his posture lest he give anything away.
"Legal troubles?" said the Earth Kingdom representative. "Don't sugarcoat it – he nearly killed a man!"
Across the room, Korra's eyes widened. She tilted her head at him, brows pinched, and he could almost hear her demand: is this true? Unable to bear the hurt he saw in her eyes, he looked away.
Midori, faithful until the end, stepped forward. "Hold your tongue, Song! He was defending a helpless child who was being bloodbent-"
"Every single witness rejects that story, Councillor Midori."
"Because they are afraid of retribution! And that is why we must act." Her voice rose, and Amon closed his eyes. The situation was escalating too quickly; the proposal was slipping through their fingers. Emotion would be seen as irrational and would bring about a knee-jerk deferral of the proposal, and muddying it with his name was only making things worse. He could turn this around if only he could speak, but the risk that he would be recognized by his public speaking voice was too great.
Tenzin folded his arms over his chest. "Zoran aside, I find it strangely convenient that the Red Monsoons happen to be the focus of this proposal, given the Equalist history with the Red Monsoons during the war, when Amon took the bending of two-dozen members-"
"Amon is dead," said Midori through clenched teeth, "and the old Equalist movement died with him. Do not make the mistake of associating the new with the old. The Red Monsoons are increasing their attacks – they have nearly doubled their membership in the past year, by our estimates – and they need to be stopped. My goal is only to protect the non-benders who cannot defend themselves against these monsters."
"Meeting violence with violence is not the way things are done in this city," said Tenzin.
Midori's face turned beet red. "Given my history of working against this city, I think I know a thing or two about what it takes to stop it!" she snapped, the final nail in the coffin.
Amon couldn't bear to watch anymore. He grabbed his bag, excused himself from his table and left the hall.
.*.*.*.
Korra intended to wait until a formal recess to look for Amon, but grew impatient as the Councillors began to bicker. Her patience was already limited due to problems of her own, and curiosity about Amon's so-called legal trouble was overwhelming her attention span. Quietly murmuring an apology to her neighbours, she dismissed herself from the meeting room.
The kitchen and the lounge were both empty. She finally found him in the training room; he was in the middle of exercises, and didn't notice her. For a moment, she let herself forget her anxiety, leaned against the door frame and waited – she told herself it was to analyze his mood before she spoke to him, though it was partly to feast her eyes on the man she had been separated from for a month.
His back to her, Amon lunged between two training dummies, ricocheting between them and driving his knuckles up their lengths. In the four years that had passed since he had given up his airbending abilities, he had trained hard enough to recover most of the speed he had lost. She loved to watch him fight. What had been terrifying as his opponent was awe-inspiring as his ally. While she was all about raw power, he was all grace and speed.
Her admiration disappeared when he spun and gripped one of the dummies by the back of the neck, driving his thumb into its forehead.
Equalizing it.
His eyes closed as if savouring the moment. Then he stepped back and stared at his hands, his mouth twisted in a frown. Anxiety blossomed in Korra's chest so violently that it choked her.
He misses it.
She cleared her throat against the sudden tightness. "Zoran," she called, the name foreign on her tongue.
"Korra?" His arms jerked away from the dummy as if guilty. "We can't be seen together."
"Yeah, don't remind me." She stepped into the room and folded her arms over her chest. "I'm only gone for four weeks, and you kill a man?"
"He will recover." He turned to face her, his face so carefully impassive that he might as well have been wearing his old mask. "It's risky for us to speak here."
"Everyone's still brainstorming what to do about the Red Monsoons. We have a minute." She stood before him, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "What's going on with you, Amon? You're attacking gang members, proposing violent strikes, energybending dummies..."
"Ah, so you did see that." His eyes closed. "A child stood up to a member of the Red Monsoons who was threatening her father. Their leader used bloodbending on her, right there in broad daylight, and not one single person intervened. He might have killed her had I not stepped in."
The passion behind his reaction made a lot of sense, given his personal history, but she had never known him to resort to knee-jerk violence before. His reactions to provocation were usually far more elegant. "I didn't think the Red Monsoons ended up being bloodbenders."
"At least one of them is, which means there are likely more." He looked down at his hands again. "And since I can no longer solve the problem myself, I must rely on the Council's inefficient channels. I don't see the point in sitting around trying to legislate these criminals to death when we could be taking them out ourselves."
"I understand your frustrations. Bureaucracy is infuriating." Her clenched jaw relaxed a little. "But we have to play by the Council's rules if Republic City is to stay peaceful." Her hands longed to clasp over his, but she was certain he would only yank them away and chastise her for showing affection in public.
"And what of you, Korra?" he said. "I saw in your eyes that something is troubling you as well."
Her anxiety flooded over her so abruptly that she shuddered. "I need to talk to you about something important. But not here."
There was concern in his yellow eyes, barely visible beneath his hood. "Something happened in Ba Sing Se?"
She hesitated. "Come by tonight. We'll talk."
"It must be bad," he said softly, "if you don't wish to discuss it here."
Her shoulders slumped. "I could really use a hug," she whispered. "I've needed one for days. I need to feel your body against mine."
The words seemed to agitate him; he let out a sharp sigh. "We can't-"
"I know," she interrupted crossly. Though she was aware that he had sacrificed far more for their relationship than she, it was getting more and more maddening that he wouldn't even consider slowly building a scripted, carefully-controlled public relationship between Zoran and the Avatar, some semblance of normalcy between them. It was easier for him: he had lived half-truths for most of his life, carefully guarding his privacy. She was accustomed to wearing her heart on her sleeve, and after a year of hiding in the shadows, she was aching to be a real, public couple. Especially now.
Her distress must have shown on her face and convinced him, because Amon's expression softened. He quickly scanned the room, then gripped her hand and led her to the corner, safely out of view of the door.
"Here." His arms tightened around her, broad and muscled. She sank against his chest and let her eyes slip closed, inhaling his scent. Yes, this helped greatly.
He kissed the top of her head, his breaths warm in her hair, and the sense of comfort began to evolve. Tingles ran down her scalp and flooded her body, washing away any thoughts of topics that needed discussing or gang members or politics. Instead, she began to realize how much she had missed being close to him. She pulled him flush against her, certain that she was pushing the boundaries too far and he would pull away.
Instead, his hands lifted her jaw and he covered her mouth with his. The kiss started out innocently, but quickly deepened out of control, hands clawing into each other's hair. Amon subtly pressed his thigh between her legs, applying pressure until it was all she could do not to grind against him; her lower body began to glow.
He broke away, trailing his lips up to her ear. "Four weeks without you," he breathed. His thigh subtly shifted, and electricity shot through her torso. Well, two could play that game: she stepped in closer, her leg rubbing subtly against him as well, but the plan backfired when the movement revealed that he was just as aroused as she was. Her eyes threatened to roll back into her head.
"Amon," she said, and she was embarrassed by how throaty her voice was. "What are we doing?"
"Letting our ache for each other overcome our reason." He stepped away from her. "This is dangerous."
"It is." And yet, she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in his embrace. Running a finger down his chest, she said, "You know what would be even more dangerous?"
He raised an inquisitive brow at her.
She cocked her head at the storage closet.
His eyes widened, and she was certain she was about to get a lecture about maintaining their cover.
"We can be quiet," she said, before he had a chance to protest. "And fast."
He barely hesitated. "You're a terrible influence, Korra." He gripped her hand and led her to the closet. The door gave way; they slid it closed behind them.
For a moment, they stood in the darkness, perfectly still. She wondered if, like she, he were trying to wrap his head around the idea that they were actually going to do this.
"The emphasis was on 'fast,'" she whispered. Her hand reached for his, clung to it and pulled him in. They blindly fumbled for one another. In the frenzy, Korra slammed her elbow into a metal pole and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from yelping, but quickly forgot her discomfort when Amon lifted her by the hips and pressed her into the wall. She tugged her dress above to her waist and wrapped her legs around him as he yanked down his pants.
Finally they were one again. A soft slew of pleased curses slipped from her lips, and she felt him grin against her ear.
"I had forgotten how dirty I can make that mouth of yours." His voice was barely a whisper. "If you aren't quiet, I'm going to have to muzzle you."
A quiver ran down her spine. "I'd like to see you try," she replied, nipping at his earlobe, enjoying feeling his body tense in response. She whispered a few choice filthy phrases, teasing him, and then gave a small grunt of surprise when his hand clamped over her mouth.
"I warned you, Avatar," he growled, using the threatening tone that had given her nightmares once upon a time. Every hair on her body stood on end. Normally she would have fought back, but warmth was already rippling through her body in time with his movements. She bit into his hand instead and was pleased to hear his breath catch.
A faint layer of sweat was forming between them in the muggy closet, and his natural scent was fogging her mind. Breaking free from his hand, she pushed back his hood and raked her hands into his hair, kissing him so fiercely that his teeth dug into the corners of her lips. She could feel every muscle in his body tense, and knew he was close. A moan was building in her throat, and she wondered how much longer she was going to be able to restrain it.
Amon stopped.
No! Not when they were so close. She arched against him, but he gripped her shoulder to lock her in place, and she realized he was holding his breath.
Clacking heels echoed in the training room.
Even though sweat was trailing down her face, tickling her nose, Korra didn't dare move to brush it away. Instead, she breathed a small, subtle puff of frost, cooling the air between them.
"Zoran?" called Midori.
Korra's ears strained so much that they began to ring, waiting for the footsteps that would indicate that the woman was leaving. They did not come.
"She's waiting for me to return," breathed Amon into her ear. "My bag is still out there."
Korra gritted her teeth, frustrated. At first, she was going to suggest that they out-wait the Councillor, but sweat was starting to bead on her upper lip, and the thought of potentially annoying Amon by doing more bending to cool them was not one she relished. The other option was to continue as quietly as possible, but the stakes were higher now that a thin door was all that separated them from a potential audience.
Not that it mattered anymore, anyway. Her high had already faded.
With a frustrated sigh, she dropped her legs to the floor and tugged his hood back into place as he straightened his tunic.
"Now the wait until tonight is going to be even more agonizing than before," she whispered. So much for her brilliant idea.
"When the time comes, it will be explosive." He caught her lips in a deep, long kiss, then turned and opened the door.
.*.*.*.
Amon stepped into the training room, shutting the closet door behind him. The Councillor sat on a bench beside his satchel, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded over her chest.
"Midori," he greeted, injecting surprise into his voice.
"Doing some training?" she asked.
"Venting some frustration."
"I bet." She pursed her lips. "Venting frustration. In the closet."
He glanced back at it, searching for an excuse, but his mind was still sluggish with arousal. "Needed more training dummies – two just isn't enough of a challenge."
"Which is, of course, why you came out empty-handed."
"There were none to be found." He felt oddly as if he were on trial.
Her eyelids drooped, disapproving. "You can come out, Avatar," she called.
Great. Amon pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head at his own carelessness.
There was a small cough, then Korra stepped out of the closet, fully-clothed, but hair ruffled and cheeks crimson. She cleared her throat and hurried past without acknowledging either of them. Amon felt a glow rise to his cheeks as well.
Once they were alone, Midori said, "Four weeks is an awfully long time."
He shook his head. "Half a day after being interrupted will feel even longer."
"Then I'd better keep an eye on you to make sure you don't throw yourselves at each other in the middle of the Council table." She let out an exasperated huff. "I like Korra, but sometimes your love for her makes you stupider than a sack of bricks. That's going to get you into real trouble some day."
"Not one of my brighter decisions, to be sure," he said, hoping that agreement would cut short her lecture, but she was still going:
"You do realize how lucky you are that I was the one who caught you? It would be a shame to undo a year of perfect secrecy for the sake of one quick tryst in the closet."
"Are you done?" he asked dryly.
"I could rant about this all day, if you let me."
"Then I won't." He lifted his head, finally looking her in the eye. "There are more important things to discuss. The proposal collapsed after I left, didn't it?"
Her expression fell, fine wrinkles lining the corners of her mouth. "It collapsed long before that. I am sorry, Zoran. I was too emotional."
"You always were the heart of the Equalists," he said, trying not to show his disappointment. He squeezed her shoulder. "Your emotion is one of your strongest assets. I should have taken it into account, but the whole proposal was so rushed..." He had cobbled it together in the few sleepless hours between his release from police custody and the Council meeting. "We'll have to think of another way. Maybe Korra will have some ideas. I'll discuss it with her tonight." After whatever serious talk she needed to have with him, at any rate. It couldn't be anything too serious, if her actions in the closet were any indication of her mood. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the flood of tempting imagery that lingered in his mind.
Outside, a bell sounded in the clock tower. Midori stood. "The session is starting up again. Will you join us?"
Amon shook his head no. "My temper is too heated. I'm not going to be able to keep silent." He had already foolishly let his guard down once that day; he wasn't about to do it again. Above all else, his identity had to remain a secret.
"Very well. I'll debrief you tomorrow." She stood and held up a threatening finger: "Don't do anything stupid. I suggest you lay low for a couple days while all of this blows over. No more sex in closets. You're supposed to be the strategist here: act like it."
.*.*.*.
Midori's words repeated over and over in his mind as he stepped into the street. Her shock was understandable. Every move he had ever made had been carefully planned and calculated, but lately, he felt as if his self-control were slipping. Part of it, he was certain, was the slow burn of repressed resentment. So much had changed four years ago, once he had met Korra and learned more about the spirit's ulterior motives for him, and he had been carefully denying himself the right to mourn all he had lost. It was eating away at him, and lately, he was wondering if it was beginning to drive him mad.
The sun was bright in Republic City, the scent of hot stone and tar heavy in the air. A slight breeze wended down the streets from the harbour, bringing with it the scent of saltwater and seaweed. Amon doubted he would ever again smell that scent without remembering the moments before his death at the hands of Tarrlok. If nothing else, it kept him alert.
He walked down the street, feeling like a shadow rippling between passersby. For so many years, he had only been above ground on his own terms, his mask drawing all eyes to him. Now, he was just another man in fire nation garb, shadowed cowl hiding most of his scars from the world. He doubted anyone would have noticed the scars even if he had gone barefaced; people in Republic City didn't make eye contact with one another, no doubt afraid of provoking violence. The gang issue was getting out of control.
His rented room was down the street, but as with the previous night, his feet carried him through the park and down a block, past Feng's store. At the end of the row of shops was the house from the night before. It was a small house with a blue door, paint flaking and streaked with black mould. The yard was small inside the rickety white fence, but it contained a lovingly manicured lawn. There was no young lass in the garden today.
An elderly woman emerged from the house and stormed up the walk. "You! Get out of here." Her face was twisted in a sneer.
Amon studied her. "I wanted to make sure the little girl was okay. I was here when-"
"Yes, I remember you. Go away!" He saw now that her eyes were red.
He stared at her, not understanding. The woman leaned close, her nose almost pressing to his, and he smelled alcohol on her breath.
"They came back for her father," she said. "You provoked them! They came for revenge."
Amon's blood froze. "I did not intend to provoke. I only meant to save the girl."
The woman was wailing now, and people around them were beginning to stare: "They killed him! My son is dead. My son..."
A younger woman hurried out of the house, dressed in black, her eyes rimmed with red as well. She gripped the elderly woman's shoulders, shushing her, and turned to lead her back to the house.
He felt the eyes of passersby on him, but he could not tear his gaze from the young widow. The world around him hazed, dreamlike; his periphery narrowed and the sounds around him muted. Nothing existed but him and those whose lives he had inadvertently destroyed.
"I am sorry," he said. "I promise you, I was only trying to save your daughter."
The woman looked back, her lip quivering and her eyes lined with tears. "You should know better," she scolded. "We cannot fight back, or it will only make things worse."
His jaw clenched. "Amon and the Equalists fought back, and it helped for a time."
"Amon is dead," said the woman, "and the Equalists and the Council do nothing. What chance do we have?"
She turned and led the older woman into the house. He stood staring at the closed door, and his hands curled into fists.
