Disclaimer: There are many things on this earth I do not own, and the Avatar universe is one of them.

Rating: M, eventually. (Yes, I made up my mind rather quickly on this one.)

Pairing: Korvira.

Author's Note: This is going to be a ten-ish chapter story composed entirely of moments where Korra and Kuvira are in the same place, followed by some sort of epilogue. It will probably span about two years.


"Back so soon?"

If it hadn't been six full months since Korra last stood outside this cell, she might have missed the sarcasm in Kuvira's words. It was strange, seeing her in full daylight without the iconic uniform, hair down, not a scrap of metal in sight. In the dull, gray prison garb, Kuvira looked worn, tired, but there was still steel in her voice, and Korra found herself flinching back from it as surely as she would have an actual weapon.

She almost apologized for not coming by sooner after their last talk, but what good would that do? Kuvira wasn't a friend; Korra doubted the Great Uniter would care one way or another if Korra never saw her again.

Luckily, before Korra had a chance to stumble over a greeting, Kuvira offered her a better chance to start their conversation. "A lot can change in half a year."

"Yeah. It can. It did." Korra sat on the deck, trying to find a sense of normalcy in being here. It didn't help that Kuvira made no move to follow suit, still standing against the far wall of the cell. Now, Korra had to look up at her when she spoke, or make the awkward choice to stand again.

Instead, she looked down at her hands, fiddling with a few drops of seawater that had collected in the grooves of the wood. "What you said… it helped. A lot. I couldn't help with the relocation and the refugees without running into Raiko's men everywhere, but the spirit vine problem… Yeah. It's a lot of work, finding where the gangs are harvesting them, and keeping people from blowing themselves up, let alone anyone else has been… kind of a full time job, but it seems like even the worst of the worst are starting to realize just how dangerous that power can be, and we haven't had trouble with spirit weapons in almost a month, now. People trust me again."

Kuvira's expression was unreadable. "Are you here looking for congratulations, Avatar?"

Korra looked up, and the water she'd been bending for something to fidget with trickled back into the grooves between the deck planks. "No," she said. She sighed. It would be nice, actually. There were a couple of times in the last month when everything had seemed to be finally falling back into place, where she imagined coming here again and standing in front of Kuvira and—in the nicest, most well-intentioned, least-petty way imaginable, of course—rubbing it in her face. That she had done what Kuvira couldn't, bringing people back together from chaos without anyone having to be pushed aside in the process. Everything was going well. Too well.

Then, the protests started.

"There's a whole new problem now. I don't really know why I'm here," she admitted. "This isn't exactly your strong suit. I guess it's just…" Korra shrugged, waving her palm over the deck again and gathering a tiny ball of water to hover in front of her eyes. "You kind of... have to listen to me." Even through the distortion of the water, she could still see Kuvira's eyebrows rise. "Sorry," she added, biting her lip. "I mean, it's true. You can't close the meeting room doors on me or tell me to get back to the spirit wilds. But you don't have to humor me, either. Tenzin thinks this is all just—" Korra stretched the water into a little spinning disk in exasperation. "—part of a healing process. That I did the balancing bit, and now, as long as the air benders are flying around helping out and I keep the potential in spirit weapons from destroying us all, everything will settle down soon. So when I try to talk though ideas with him about the protestors, I know he's just listening because he's… him. Not because he thinks I should be worried about this."

Kuvira stepped closer. "Protesters?"

For the first time, Korra thought she sensed actual curiosity. She flushed with embarrassment as she realized just how long she had been spilling nonsense about her personal issues with all of this instead of actually telling Kuvira what was going on.

"Oh yeah. Between the spirit vine scare and a lot of old fears from the Hundred Year War, people are getting twitchy around firebenders again. No one wants to know what it is about electricity and spirit vines that started this whole problem in the first place; they just know that firebenders can set them off, and they aren't happy about it. People who have been neighbors for years suddenly don't trust each other! Some families won't send their children back to school with firebenders, and there's even the start of a movement to throw them all out of the city for good. You know, every time I think the United Republic is finally done being strung up about me leaving the spirit portals open, something shifts again." Korra was starting to think Wan might have been right. There was no balance with the two worlds mixed together; only chaos. "No one but me really seems worried. It's all… 'free speech' this and 'reasonable fears' that and nobody seems to care that firebenders are getting hurt!" Well, that wasn't quite true. Lin was furious and running herself ragged over the sudden spike in crime with firebending victims, but there was only so much she could do when there were tensions and questions of loyalty in her own department. Not even the police were exempt from casting judgement. "I have to do something," she finished, voice uncomfortably shaky.

"You know your options are limited, don't you?"

"Obviously," Korra snapped, then winced. "Sorry, but yeah, I really do. That's why I keep ending up here, of all places, for help."

"I wouldn't call two visits a pattern yet, Avatar. You've done a remarkable amount on your own."

"Thanks. I think." She could never really tell with Kuvira, what the drive was behind her subtle, occasional kindness. It was always something half-veiled in condescension, but it was still nice to hear.

"But this is one of those times where you either have to do much more, or nothing," Kuvira added, ignoring Korra's awkward thanks.

"Well, I'm not doing nothing. I saw one of those 'anti-terrorism' rallies. Tenzin can say what he wants; this isn't going away on its own. Those people want to see every firebender thrown out of the city. There was a petition! To me! Demanding that I take the bending away from any firebender who was found living near spirit vines, or any firebender who refused to leave the city. It's not huge, yet, but neither were the Equalists once upon a time. People are going to get hurt! I can't—"

"I didn't expect you to." There was a hint of a smile, there, after those words, but if Korra wasn't imagining things, there was a touch of sadness to it. "But you have to understand the path you're taking if you don't want to let the people work through this on their own. Prejudice is a powerful weapon. It's an option. In a time like this, you either regulate prejudice by enforcing it, or by enforcing tolerance. And tolerance is a lot more work."

Kuvira spoke slowly, as though weighing each of her own words to be sure of its merit.

"I considered it, you know. The benefits of diversity in the Earth Kingdom. But there's no room for diversity in an Empire. Diversity breeds discontentment, particularly when it comes to war. It's so much easier to trust someone who looks like you, thinks like you… was raised the same way you were. When your enemy looks just like the soldier beside you, your resolve weakens."

"That's disgusting," Korra said. She couldn't seem to look away from Kuvira's eyes, though. There was so much power there, in this great ruler of nothing, lording her quiet words over an empty sea and one single listener. "How can you think like that? You made half a nation think every other type of bender was nothing more than unwanted vermin in the Earth Kingdom. Do you know how many people you left homeless? They won't go back, either. They might not ever feel welcome again."

"I know," Kuvira replied.

There was a silence after those simple words. Kuvira shook her head, scowling and turning away. "That's the one part I don't think you'll ever understand, Avatar. I've had a lot of empty hours to think about what you said to me, after you saved my life. And maybe there is something between us, some fierce, determined, tired part of us that makes us the same, but you've always had more. You've had time. The Avatar has eternity to craft the world. I had one chance, Korra. One chance, and I wasted it. You don't know what it's like. To watch yourself going too fast, watch yourself losing control, watch yourself take the harsher and harsher path because it's easier and because there just isn't time!"

Kuvira spun back towards her, eyes flashing with more fierce, ragged emotion than Korra expected, and she flinched. But as Kuvira opened her mouth one more time, that spark visibly faded, cooled, and died. "What I wouldn't have given for your power. For the time to help my people find peace. I never had that. I had war. I had fear. I had three years. I used what I had." When she finished, her face was expressionless. Closed.

Korra was quiet for some time. Neither of them looked away. Korra could feel the force of Kuvira's stare like a one-sided battle of wills, but she wasn't pushing back. She was… thinking. "You're right. I've had a lot of lifetimes of messing around with the world, but I… I know what it feels like to be running out of time. I lost my past lives. All of them. All those missing centuries. I'll never get that back. And I thought I was going to be the last Avatar more times than is really fair for a whopping two years' worth of doing the job. So… I don't think about it that way, like I have the next eternity to get things done. I always feel like I have to do too much, that it has to be me fixing everything, as fast as possible. I've made bad decisions because of it. I almost destroyed the world during harmonic convergence. I—" Taking advantage of the intense eye contact she was still being subjected to, Korra offered a weak smile. "—trusted you. For a while. When you told me what you were doing in Zaofu."

Kuvira shook her head. "So. Your bad decision was deciding to believe me? What does that say about being me?

Korra winced. So a line about trust hadn't exactly been the most tasteful attempt at levity.

"You didn't raze cities to the ground, try to murder people you.. cared for, or conquer an entire nation with no regard for human life. Your worst decisions can't even compare to the simplest choices I made every day as the Great Uniter."

"You've changed, though."

"Have I?"

Kuvira stepped closer, grasping the wood of the windowsill tight between her palms and fingers, as though she could crush it in an instant.

"Do you really think now, given the chance, I wouldn't still want everything I wanted back then? Do you think, in just these past few months, I've come up with some better way I could have done things? Do you think I ever would have apologized if I had won?"

"Yeah," Korra said. The word came out almost too soft to hear, so she cleared her throat. "Yes. I do."

Kuvira glared and spun away, pacing to the far side of her cell. "Well, you're wrong. And you shouldn't come here again. I don't have any answers for you about fixing the world. You need to realize that, and you need to move on."

"Kuvira—"

"No. Whatever hang-ups you have about me, about what I did… I'm not your enemy anymore, and I'm certainly not your ally. I'm just…" She spread her hands, then let them fall to her sides, and she didn't finish her sentence.

Korra slowly unfolded herself from the deck, wincing as a leg long gone to sleep protested the sudden weight it had to bear. "I'm not leaving like this," she said. She stepped up to the window.

"What do you want, Avatar?"

Those cold words sent a shiver of déjà vu racing down Korra's spine. For the first time, she realized how different it felt when Kuvira used her title. It wasn't out of respect, but it wasn't the dismissive, almost derogatory use of "Avatar" she had come to expect from people who didn't agree with her. Kuvira used her title like a wall, slamming it down between them to create distance from… something. Korra's words, probably. Maybe even Korra herself.

"I want…" Korra paused. It was hard to put words to something she didn't even know herself, but maybe Kuvira had given her the answer. "As the Avatar… I want to give you a chance to do something again. I look at you and I… I see a force for changing the world that I don't know if I'll ever see equaled again in my lifetime, and I don't like that no one really knew what to do with that when you surrendered. As the Avatar, I keep thinking…" Korra scuffed the toe of her boot against the deck, wincing when she kicked the side of the cell much harder than she intended. Kuvira didn't even flinch at the sound. "I just keep patching up holes, you know? And ripping new ones, but never really changing the way things are. You took a kingdom that had been exactly the same for thousands and thousands of years, and you made it something completely different."

Kuvira exhaled sharply. "I was a dictator instead of a monarch. You all have made it perfectly clear to me that no one sees any difference, there."

"I've never said that," Korra snapped. "Look, I may not like how you did it, but I'm not blind. You absolutely crushed inequality in the Earth Kingdom. Without what you did, Wu would be dealing with a disaster right now. Instead, we're expecting the first election by the end of the year, and because of you, he has the infrastructure, the political systems, the… the literacy to do it! Earth Empire citizens already voted to remain unified rather than breaking apart into a system of independent states. Your people are loyal to each other now in a way I've never seen before. I can't believe that was all just… prejudice." Korra spat the last word, and it still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Ahhh." The knowing syllable slid slowly from Kuvira's lips as she turned once again towards the window where Korra stood. "Back to that, are we?" With slow, deliberate steps, she moved closer and closer towards the Avatar, until she was very actively invading Korra's personal space. Korra felt herself swallow down a sudden flash of nervousness, but she didn't back away, afraid to stop whatever Kuvira might say next. "You won't leave until you have a solution to your firebender problem. Is that it?"

She didn't give Korra a chance to respond.

"I already told you. If you aren't willing to let Republic City work through this on its own, and you don't want to use all the prejudice brewing there to your own advantage, you're going to have to do more than sit by, reacting to attacks and provocations as they happen. We don't live in an accepting world. If you don't create tolerance, it doesn't exist. Your 'United Republic' will always be just as afraid of difference as the rest of the world. You can force them to live with it, or you can stamp it out."

The harsh, challenging set of Kuvira's eyebrows and lips added fire to her last words, and Korra had to look away to keep her calm. "I don't know if I believe that. About… everyone being afraid of difference. But…" Korra felt her tongue trip over the word. But what? But Kuvira had a point again? But even if there are times when people can accept difference, it sure didn't seem to be happening now? Korra didn't want there to be a but. She wanted a way to keep everyone safe without… constantly having to tell everyone what to do. "I don't think these people are really scared of each other, alright? I think they're just… scared of change."

Korra looked up just in time to see Kuvira shake her head. "That's an excuse. It might have been true six months ago. Not anymore."

Korra stepped away, frustrated. "I can't force tolerance on people, Kuvira. That will never work."

Kuvira laughed, then, and Korra flinched at the dark, heavy sound. "So, what? You storm off now that I've given you an answer you don't like? It doesn't seem like you came here for my advice at all. You just wanted my agreement."

Korra scowled. "How, then? I'm not Raiko. I can't pass laws."

Kuvira shook her head again. "I tried that. Laws. Rules. A regime of unwavering equality and stability. That part… didn't work."

"Sure it did!" Korra snapped back, unable to keep the growing irritation out of her voice. "That wasn't the problem, I just won't do it! I mean, clearly, it worked. You had your entire Empire kneeling at your feet!"

"No. That's what I've been trying to tell you. All the new policies I made to be sure every citizen was treated exactly the same under the law only landed thousands of dissenters in prison and saw hundreds more fleeing across the borders. The people loyal to me? They were loyal because I changed minds, Korra, not laws. In the beginning… that was my power. Persuasion. I even had you trusting me. For a little while."

The cautious allusion to Korra's earlier words about making the mistake to trust her in Zaofu was startling. There it was, that hint of a smile turning up one corner of Kuvira's mouth, a little gesture of truce that popped a hole in Korra's anger. She slumped against the railing of the ship, deflating with a sigh. "So… what? I give speeches? Not exactly my strong suit."

That faint smile managed to steal its way across the other half of Kuvira's mouth for a moment before she carefully hid it again. "How you persuade people to trust firebenders again is up to you. You were right; that isn't my strong suit. The best I could offer was… options. I gave you three: time, prejudice, persuasion. We both know which you'll choose."

When Korra didn't immediately reply, Kuvira stepped back from the bars. "I believe I've done my duty, here."

Korra groaned. Half of her wanted to thank Kuvira, and the other half really just wanted to bash her own head against the railing for a little while. That sounded a lot easier than actually having to process this ridiculous conversation they'd just had. "I… Okay. I get the picture. I'll leave you alone. Thanks. I think. Again."

She started to walk off, then paused, glancing back over her shoulder.

"Kuvira, I… I don't want you to feel like you have to do this with me. I have no right to turn up here pushing your buttons and demanding answers to problems you don't have any say in and I…"

Kuvira held up a hand. "Don't." She paused. "Do what you want, Korra. Don't pretend like my feelings play any part in this. I'm locked up in a floating box for what is most likely the rest of my life. Whatever it is that makes me interesting to you, I'm sure I'll lose my novelty soon enough. Until that happens…" Kuvira's face was in shadow, and Korra could read no real emotion in the voice of the Great Uniter. "I'd hazard a guess I'm going to see you again, Avatar."

Korra stood in silence for a long time. She didn't have words for this, for any of this. For the strange, dark feeling in her gut that kept telling her to come back here every time things in Republic City got too far out of hand. For the raw mess of emotions she felt every time she laid eyes on the once Great Uniter in her stark, cruel cage, the sickening twist of vindictive pride at war with genuine regret. She didn't have words for the chills that crept up her spine every time Kuvira spoke of what she had done to keep power, or for the goosebumps that rose in their wake as Kuvira clinically dissected the very things that made their world tick.

In the end, Korra couldn't say anything. She stepped over the railing, drifted down onto her waiting boat, and set off for Republic City without a word.