When Korra started to suspect that she was pregnant, her first reaction was not happiness. Not this time.

No. As she began to mentally check symptoms off, Korra had been terrified.

Terrified of being wrong.

A healer could confirm things, but Korra didn't want to face sympathy of a stranger. She wanted to see the one person that she trusted to tell her yes or no for sure.

Katara. The same woman who warned her that getting pregnant might not be an option after the poisoning.

At the time, Korra hadn't really cared. She was in the South Pole, Mako was just words on a page, and there were bigger things for her to focus on than whether or not she might someday have biological children. Like, if she would ever be able to walk or go back into the Avatar state.

Then she'd gone back to Republic City and picked things back up with Mako. As the months added up, Korra found herself wondering what their children might look like. Would they have his eyes? Her skin tone? His dark hair? Or maybe they'd have the same glossy, dark brown that adorned her head. She especially found herself straying to this train of thought while they were at the air temple, when she could watch Mako interacting with the airbender kids.

One day, he was entertaining little Rohan with a couple of firebender tricks and Rohan was trying to imitate him, even though he was an airbender. Korra had been giggling at the two of them, when the thought hit her that she might someday watch him teach firebending to their son or daughter. That thought was quickly followed by Katara's words.

Korra stopped laughing then.

Mako was too absorbed at the time to notice how quiet she got. Thankfully, she had plenty of time to pull herself together, but she spent weeks afterward eaten up with guilt. Should she tell Mako now? Or was it too early? Korra wracked her brain for casual ways to bring up the subject of kids, but none of them seemed right. She didn't want to scare him off, but at the same time, she loved him too much to ask him to stay with someone who wouldn't be able to give him children if that was important to him. Wouldn't it be better to tell him, rather than wait until it would hurt both of them irreparably?

In the end, all her qualms about tact and timing were pointless because Mako had no such reservations. It came up at that year's Glacier Spirits Festival. They were standing in line to get a new picture. A family was ahead of them in line.

Mako smiled and gestured to the family. "We'll have to do that when we have our own kids."

The dad picked up the littlest girl, who was acting a bit grumpy, tossing her in the air until there was a big grin on her face. It took Mako a moment to notice that Korra hadn't responded.

"Sorry, I—" Mako blushed, rubbing the back of his neck and ducking his head. He did a quick double-take, focusing on Korra as she struggled to cover all the emotions that had just flashed across her face. "Korra? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Korra said. "I just, um, don't feel all that great. Do you think we could do this tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure." He put an arm around her shoulders and they headed back in the direction of her parent's house. They were both quiet the whole way back. Mako was still bright red. "Do you, want me to get Katara or something?" he asked when they got back to her room.

"No, I'll be good," she said. Korra couldn't look at Mako or she was afraid she might start crying. Instead, she focused on the door handle as she pushed her door open.

Mako's hand closed around hers. "Korra, I'm sorry if I freaked you out with the kids comment earlier. I should have just dumped that on you, it's just—well, I've been thinking about the future a lot lately. Specifically, our future and…" He paused, scanning her face. "Korra, if you don't want kids that's okay. You can tell me."

Korra caught her breath, holding it until the urge to cry lessened a little. "It's not that," she whispered.

"Okay," Mako said. "Then what is it?"

"I don't know if I can," Korra said, ninety-five percent sure that she'd have to say it again louder. The silence that followed stretched and stretched, but Korra didn't have the courage to say the words again.

"You don't know if you can…You mean you don't think you can have kids?" Mako pulled her away from the door, resting both hands on her shoulders, his fingers digging in just a little. "Because you're the Avatar?"

"No. Because of the poison—it m-might have—" Korra's voice broke. This was the first time she'd told anyone. She hadn't even told Asami and they'd joked multiple times about all the bad habits her and Mako's kid might have. "I'm so sorry, Mako," she said, bursting into tears.

Mako looked absolutely shocked for about three seconds, and then he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry. The rough wool of his coat felt cold against her cheek. Soon it was wet with tears too. At some point, Mako opened the door and guided Korra inside, shutting the world away.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."

When Mako pulled away from her, Korra stared at the ground. Gently, he brushed away the little strands of hair that stuck to her cheeks.

"Korra, what are you apologizing for?" he asked.

Korra felt so small. "Because you want kids and I can't…" Her voice choked, but she managed to keep from crying again.

His gloves were rough, but warm as he cupped her face, bringing her eyes up to him. Korra tried to focus on the wall behind him. Spirits, this was embarrassing.

"It's not your fault," Mako said. "You have nothing to apologize for." He leaned down to brush his lips against hers. It was quick kiss. Mako let Korra burrow into him, pressing his cheek to her temple. "We'll figure it out, Kor," he whispered. "As long as we're together, that's what matters."

Of course, that hadn't made things any easier when they finally did get married and decided to start trying for a family. When Korra had asked Katara her thoughts, the older waterbender had been cautiously optimistic. The metal had all been bent out of Korra's body and she couldn't find anything off when she examined Korra.

But a year passed and then two.

She knew that it wasn't her fault. She knew that it wasn't something she had control over. Korra hadn't chosen being the Avatar. Nor had she chosen getting kidnapped and poisoned by the Red Lotus. Knowing that was one thing, convincing herself it was true was a completely different story.

The worst thing was that the stress of being the Avatar had caused her cycle to be late more than once. Each time, they had waited, counting the days, only to be let down a week or two later when her body finally got back on track. Though her husband didn't show his disappointment, the fact that Mako kept track almost as closely as she did spoke volumes.

The worst time was when she missed two cycles in a row. She'd gone to a healer, Korra's experience as a healer was a bit lacking when it came to pregnancies, for confirmation. Gently, the healer informed that she was wrong.

That night, she'd stayed out so late that Mako finally came looking for her.

"Hey," he said, as he sat next to her under their tree. It wasn't the exact same spot that they'd spent the night under—that spot had a view of her statue, which she hated—but it was the same tree. They were completely alone.

Korra didn't even have the energy to cry at that point, she just hugged her knees and kept staring straight ahead. "Mako…"

"I know," he said. Mako leaned back, the fabric of his shirt scritch-scratching as it rubbed against the tree. He took one of Korra's hands. "It'll be okay, Korra."

"'It'll be okay'?" she spat. Korra ripped herself away from him, surging to her feet. She rounded on him, glaring down. "How? How do we make this okay, Mako?"

"I'm just saying it's not a big deal."

"It's a big deal to me," she shouted. "Maybe you can go about things as if are fine and dandy, but I can't. I can't keep acting like this doesn't hurt."

"This hurts me too," he said.

"Really? Then stop acting so damn stoic!"

"What do you want me to do, Korra?" Mako didn't sound angry, he just tired and sad, which was so much worse. "Do you want me to yell? To blame you? Because both would be wrong and unfair to you. It isn't your fault." He stood, reaching for her. Korra hugged herself and backed away.

"Then why does it feel like it is?"

Mako reached for her again. This time she didn't shy from him.

"I want this," she said quietly, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "I want this so badly sometimes that it feels like I'm in pain."

"I know." He ran his hands up and down her arms. "I know."

"What are we going to do, Mako?" she asked.

Mako slid his arms around her waist, closing the gap between their bodies. "We wait," he said. "We hope. I've heard of couples that had to wait longer. And—" Mako stopped, biting his lip as he studied Korra's face. "And there are other options."

"Like?"

His ribs pressed against hers as he breathed in for a slow count. "What would you think about adopting?" he asked, hesitating between each word.

"Adopting?" Korra felt like someone just rung a gong next to her ear while she was meditating.

"There are lots of kids out there who need homes," Mako said. "Kids like Bolin and me." Her husband blushed and looked away from her. She felt the tension radiating from every line of his body. He was so adorably nervous that Korra wanted to kiss him. "I know it wouldn't be the same…" he trailed off, meeting Korra's eyes.

Sometimes Korra forgot how much his past had shaped him. How much it still plagued him at times. Looking at him now, Korra didn't feel like she was seeing a grown man. She saw a frightened eight-year-old who had nowhere to go and no home to call his own. How different would Mako's life have been if there had been someone to take them off the streets? It made perfect sense that he would think about something like adoption. It made perfect that he would want to adopt. Of course, they couldn't help every child who needed a home, but they could help someone. They could make a difference in one person's life. And if there was one thing being the Avatar had taught her, it was how much of a difference just one person (or maybe even a few people, why stop with one?) could make.

Korra loved the idea, but before she could say anything, the sky above them thundered and lightning cracked across the sky, causing both of them to jump. Dark clouds had blotted out the stars.

"We'd better get home," Mako said.

Taking her hand again, he headed towards their apartment, his pace brisk. No he was the one avoiding her gaze.

Thunder rumbled several more times, sounding more ominous the closer they got to home. Korra stayed silent the whole walk home, her mind turning Mako's words over and over in her head. Maybe he was right, maybe there was still time. That was the thing about hope, it was hard to extinguish.

And maybe it didn't matter.

A few blocks from their apartment, the rain started, coming on them as suddenly as if someone had upended a bucket of water above them. Laughing up at the sky, Korra tugged at Mako's hand and started running.

They stumbled into the apartment, soaked to the skin. As soon as they got inside, Korra kicked off her boots, waterbending the water out of them so they wouldn't smell in the morning. She did the same with Mako's when he handed them to her.

"Care to do the rest of me?" he asked, holding his arms out.

"Yes," Korra said, a wicked grin on her face.

Mako rolled his eyes. "That is not what I meant."

Korra grabbed a fistful of his soggy jacket and kissed him. "But my way is so much more fun."

Later, when they were lying tangled in the sheets, their hair still damp with rain water, Korra finally answered his question.

"You're right. We should adopt," she said, "regardless…regardless of whether I can have kids or not." Those words hurt, like someone was physically cutting at her soul. She hated how broken the idea made her feel. Logically, she knew that there were many, many women who couldn't have children. And if—if she was one of them, she would make peace with that. Still, to want something so badly and have your own self be the reason you couldn't have it? One day, she thought, maybe one day I'll be okay with this. One day, maybe she wouldn't care. Today though, it made her ache inside.

Mako propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her. "You're sure?" he said. "You're not just agreeing because of what happened to me and Bolin?"

Korra smiled. "If it weren't for you, I would never have thought it." Korra placed her hand on his cheek, smoothing her thumb over the ridge of his cheekbone. "If I can give even one child the chance that you didn't have, I'd do it without thinking." She grasped his hand, bringing his arm around her as he settled down again. "No matter how we get them, they'd still be our kids."

"I love you," he said.

"Yes, I know," she said, tilting her face up to kiss him. Sighing, she laid her head back against his chest, the comforting thump-thump of his heartbeat in her ear. "I can't think of a better way to start our family and the rest—we'll just take the rest as it comes."

Mako's laugh reverberated through both of their bodies. "Isn't that how we take everything?"

They hadn't got around to visiting any of the orphanages in Republic City yet.

Just a week after that conversation a rebellion had broken out in the Earth Nation. Korra had spent the past three months going back and forth between the Earth Nation and Republic City, trying to help smooth things over. She and Mako had decided to tackle the adoption issue when everything was calmer. They were lucky to get a few hours every now and then to themselves. It would be fair to bring a kid into a new family when they were barely there.

So, of course, that was when she finally got pregnant.

She barely noted the first time she missed her cycle. With everything going on, of course that was going to happen. The nausea she also chocked up to stress—and the fact that she actually did come down with the flu (that had been a whole bucket of fun). When her breasts started feeling a little sore, she just assumed that it meant her cycle was back on track, they sometimes did that right before she started.

But nothing happened.

When she realized she'd missed two cycles and that she was gaining weight, despite that fact that neither her diet nor exercise had changed, Korra finally started to consider the fact that maybe—just maybe—this time it might be true.

Still, she dreaded the idea of going to the healer. Korra couldn't stand the idea of another sympathetic, but detached waterbender telling her that no, she was not pregnant. She couldn't. She just couldn't. Korra wanted Katara. She knew Katara would understand. If she was wrong—and she was still convinced that she probably was—Katara would grieve with her.

Mako hadn't said a word to her, making Korra almost certain that he hadn't noticed yet or he had chocked it up to stress like she had. There would be no need to tell him if she was wrong. She told Mako that she had to head down to the South Pole for a week (to give herself time to accept what she thought was inevitable). Thankfully, things in the Earth Nation had calmed down by that point, so she didn't have to feel bad about taking that time off. Convincing her husband to stay behind had proved the harder task, but she'd managed it somehow.

It took two days for her to work up the courage to go see Katara.

Katara's grave demeanor prompted Korra to start from the beginning, telling her mentor about every time she'd thought she was pregnant and all the disappointment she'd experienced and finally listing all of the symptoms that she was experiencing this time.

The older woman hadn't even blinked as Korra looked down and asked if maybe this time she was pregnant. She put her hand on Korra's stomach and closed her eyes.

And then Katara smiled.

"R-Really?" Korra said.

"Oh yes. About six weeks, I'd say," Katara replied. "Nice and healthy too. Nothing at all for you to worry about. Unless, of course, you were hoping for a boy first."

"It—" Korra caught her breath. "It's a girl?"

Katara nodded, her eyes twinkling like the sea on a clear day.

Korra's hands flew to her stomach. To have gone from "maybe" to having a daughter in the matter of a few seconds—it made her mind spin.

Korra listened with half an ear as Katara spoke, giving her suggestions, warning her about some of the things she might experience. Her brain was still trying to get around the fact that, yes, she was pregnant.

It didn't sink in until she got back to her parent's house, in the room that would always be hers. The only Tthing that had changed from when she was a teen was the bed. they'd switched it out for a bigger one—Mako took up a lot of room after all.

Korra sat on that bed, her hand on her stomach, feeling the energy inside of her as Katara had shown her—she couldn't tell much, just that it was there. For Korra, that was more than enough.

"I'm a mom," she whispered. A funny little laugh escaped her lips as it finally sank in. Korra found herself crying. With joy. With relief. At the absurdity of it all. She wished Mako was there, he would probably be laughing right along with her.

Mako.

There was no way she could wait the week out. She wanted to be home yesterday. Throwing on her parka, Korra grabbed the bag of clothes she'd brought and flew down the hall. Her parents looked up, startled as she ran into the room and announced she was going home. Giving both of them an exuberant hug, Korra continued towards the door.

"Is everything okay, Korra?" her mother asked, following close behind. "I thought you were staying for another few days."

"Can't, Mom," Korra called over her shoulder. "I'm pregnant! I have to tell Mako." It slipped out before she could stop herself. Korra froze, turning to her mother with a sheepish grin.

Senna gasped, her hands flying to her mouth before she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her daughter.

"Go," Senna said.

"Maybe I should—"

"Your father can wait," Senna said. "Mako shouldn't have to. Radio us if you can't come back down soon."

The gleeful smile on Senna's face made Korra question whether her mother would be able to keep it a secret for long, but she knew her dad would understand. So Korra gave her mother a kiss on the cheek and sprinted out the door.

I wrote this weeks and weeks ago at the beginning of Book 4. Back when everyone was freaking out about whether or not Korra would be able to get pregnant. I found the idea intriguing. There's no doubt in my mind that Korra would want kids. And knowing something like this, I think it would tear her up inside. As I have her say, I don't think she'd consider adoption on her own. She'd probably be too busy getting caught up in the fact that it was her own body that was the obstacle.

I hope that I communicated clearly (but just in case I didn't), the ability to have children in no way affects Korra's strength or worth as a character. However, for someone who is going through something like this, what you know and what you feel don't always line up and that's what I tried to portray here.

As for my own opinion on all that hype over the poisoning, I don't think it would be a serious obstacle for Korra. From the bit of research that I did, I found that mercury was mostly a threat to fertility while it was in your system. And since Korra got all the poison out (if the poison was in fact mercury), I think she'd be fine.

I'm posting this with this story because it was something I originally wrote specifically to go with this one (Korra's POV is going te be two parts). I might stick this in A Hundred Ways as well, because it fits in and affects many of the stories in that headcanon. We'll see.