I don't own LOK

A/N: I'M SO SO SO SO SOOOO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED THIS IN FOREVER. I've put this excuse around in many places, but after the finale, I completely lost all motivation to write for Korra because I was just so annoyed at the end, but I revisited this not too long ago and I was just like smacked in the face with a ton of Tahnorra feels and became motivated again. I promise I won't leave for this long again. I have the next like 8 chapters planned out ready to write out. It's going in a much different direction that I originally planned.

I wasn't going to release this until after I got another chapter done, but it perfectly fit the day four theme for Tahnorra week so I cranked this baby out.

Thank you all so much for the really kind reviews! I promise that I will start updating this regularly.


Tahno could see red burning through his eyelids, trying to urge him to awaken and take on the day. But instead, he turned to his side, jerking the blanket over his head as he refused to acknowledge that this was his life now.

His body ached, an almost yearning feeling that screamed through his entire limbs, but no matter how much his body tried to fill the void left behind, it couldn't quite grasp what exactly it was that was missing.

Tahno knew it though, couldn't stop replaying the moment that Amon had pressed his thumb against his forehead, couldn't forget the gold eyes that stared at him through the slits of his white mask. That red dot burned into his mind, and in his dreams it bled onto him, dripping in the essence of his waterbending and pooling it under his feet.

He would reach out, cupping it into his hands and attempt to drink it, to swallow it back into his body, but the only thing that it left was the bitter shame that he was drowning in.

A series of knocks was what brought him out of his stupor, his eyes peering out from under the blanket to wearily stare at the door. He didn't move, not even when the knocks became louder and more insistent by the second.

He didn't fully recognize the room he was in, but all week he's been in others just like it. Plain, empty, sterile, with a strong smell of herbs that was suppose to calm him, but the only thing it served to do was increase the pounding that slammed into the walls of his brain.

He only glanced at the woman who walked into the room before shutting his eyes once more. "I'm sorry," she said, and Tahno almost wanted to pull the blanket back over his head like a petulant child. He didn't listen to the rest of her words, only staggered out of bed, almost knocking into her when his legs buckled from underneath him.

He refused to look at her tanned wrinkled face when she grabbed him, holding him up with strength that an old woman shouldn't have. "You're injured," she said, edging him back into the bed and trying to tuck him in like a child, but he just swatted her hands away. "You need to take care of yourself more."

She held out an unshaken hand, guiding the water from the vase sitting beside the bed. Tahno's eyes couldn't help but follow the trail that it made through the air, gliding effortless in a way that he was once able to achieve—in a way that he kept trying to recreate.

It surrounded her hands, creating a bubble that she tried to bring to his countless injuries peaking through the edges of his clothes. His body trembled, wanting desperately to feel the water against his flesh—to feel the warm glow take away the aching that filled him to very bones.

But a flash of red burned behind his eyes—a mask that stared unnerved by anything around him. Tahno slammed his fist into the stand, the vase tipping over shattering onto the floor.

The healer jumped, the water slipping from her hands and splashing onto the floor. It trickled through the cracks of the floorboard, spreading itself into a formless puddle with nothing that could contain it. Tahno watched it reach out for his foot, the tiny droplets desperately trying to inch for the bruised and battered fleshed that rested against the floor.

But he sidestepped it, quickly stepping back, bumping into the wall behind him, his barefoot landed in the shattered shards, piercing the soles of his feet. Tahno didn't even blink an eye, crunching through the hardened clay that tore through his flesh, droplets of blood smearing across the wood.

He stepped away and watched, entranced, as the puddle trickled through the broken up bits, carrying he blood that he had left behind with it. And she saw it, and in a moment a panic, she swiped her hand and the water evaporated, steaming up and dissipating into the air.

But it was still there. Tahno resisted the urge to lift his hand and just feel the warmth of where the water had once been, to pretend that he could still feel the particles in the air. If it had been a week ago, he probably would have been able to.

He leaned forward just so slightly, hoping that the healer didn't notice, and took a deep breath and allowed himself to believe that the water was being consumed by him, traveling deep inside to where no one could ever try to take it away from him again.

Water was once like the air to him, always there, somewhere, and even if he couldn't see it, his entire body still felt it. His entire being was tuned with the element, and now he felt like he was suffocating, like he couldn't breath and the only solution was to submerge himself until he could reclaim it once more.

But he tried that and kept on trying it over and over again if it meant that this feeling would away. His limbs flailed for an escape, sinking further and further in the bottom of the ocean and panicking in a way that he never had before.

His blood was still left on the ground, scattered among the corpse of the vase, droplets that formed too perfect of a circle sometimes.

There was no hesitation when he smashed his foot right back onto those droplets, more wounds, more blood, but smearing it until it was a unrecognizable heap.

The healer came back into the room, Tahno not even noticing that she was gone, bandages in her hands, almost dropping them when she saw just exactly what he had done.

"You need to stop it right now," she said, taking a firm hold of his arm and forcing him to sit back down on the bed. "J—just because it may seem like the end of the world, it won't always be like this, you know. The path you're going down—"

"You don't understand," he muttered under his breath, head lowered, his feet taking a firm hold of the ground, pushing down as hard as he could, blood dripping from the soles of his feet."

"Excuse me?" she asked, kneeling down and taking a hold of his foot, trying but not succeeding in lifting it. She raised her eyes to meet his, and she recognized that look.

It was same look on her husband's face the day he realized that she couldn't heal everything—one that she matched everyday in the mirror since he passed away. It was the same look as the woman who realized that she was never going to hear her child's cry.

It was the same look as one of her longest regulars, hearing the same apology that it pained to give her every time she realized that there were some things that just couldn't be fixed.

He looked her dead in the eye now, the bags under his eyes enhancing the anger and pain that she knew he was feeling. "How would you feel," he asked, "to gain greatness—to feel absolutely on top of the world for just a split second—before everything come crashing down on you."

He took a hold of one of her hands, holding it up to his face and tracing the line of destiny finger moving from the bottom of her middle finger all the way down to her wrist. "I was supposed to do great things. Supposed to change the world."

He trailed it back up again, curving across her palm on the path of another line. Life. "And then it's ripped away from you." He dropped her hand and stared her right in the eyes, and it pained her to see just how much he had give up, but she didn't look away. Couldn't. "Imagine losing the only thing that matters. The one accomplishment in your life. It's like losing a piece of you."

He held up a hand and stared at it, tightening it to a fist and not even flinching as his nails dug into his skin, tearing through until it bled. "Worse than a hand. Worse than a leg. It doesn't cripple you, but it should. It doesn't kill you, but it should."

Red. Tahno couldn't get away from that color. Red. It was ingrained into him, pumping through his veins and bleeding out from every hole in his body. The pain only a dull ache compared to the emptiness that he was trying to drain out.

"I was made an example. An example. I should have been celebrated, but they laughed, I know they did, when everything was taken away from me. And I sit here knowing that I could have done something different. I could have prevented this."

He slammed his fist into the covers, his blood staining the white sheets, but neither noticed. Not as tears began to fall from his eyes, a sob croaking out of his throat.

"I'd rather die than live like this. But I can't because no matter how much it hurts, not matter how easy it would be, my body still fights to live. It fights to regain what I lost but I can't. It's right there, I can see it, I can touch it, but I can't feel it. Not anymore. Not like how I used to."

And she tried to imagine a life like that. What she would do if she couldn't heal. How many lives would have been lost, how many tears that would have been shed? Much more than those that she has lost. Much more than was acceptable.

He drop his head in resignation, tears dripping down, snot bubbling out from his nose. He cradled his head in his hands, not even realizing or caring that he was smearing his blood onto his cheeks.

She reached out and grasped his ankle, bringing a towel to wipe away the torn flesh, pulling out the broken bits that clung onto his sole. Neither said another word.

When Tahno opened his eyes, he was in a room he didn't recognize. He stared into his hand, devoid of any blood or wounds, and his body was lacking the ache that he had become accustomed to.

But this was something he was used to, waking up in a random room—sometimes not even a room—raking his mind for what happened the night before, struggling to remember the name of a girl that he was sure he would never see again.

It was different this time, because instead of grasping for a face, he remembered bright blue eyes and soft fur beneath his fingertips. He remembered the water, that he could feel it again even if he couldn't quite grasp it. It was much more than he could hope for after that day.

And he remembered Korra.

He stepped out of bed, his body moving much easier than it has in a while, no bruises that ached, no cuts that stung with every movement that he made. He didn't care that he his chest was exposed, his shirt nowhere in sight.

He glanced out of the window, republic city looming just across the bay, and Tahno stifled a grin when he imagined Korra heaving him up on her own—he shuddered to think that the fur he remember was Naga—and lugged him back to Air Temple Island.

Most would have left him unconscious, lying wherever he had passed out. Many, in fact, already have.

He wasn't alone when he stepped out of the room, an Air Acolyte giving him an incredulous look before shuffling off without a word. Tahno watch her walked off with a smirk, crossing his arms across his bare chest and following her to where he assumed would be the outside.

She would look back at him every now and then, giving him a glare as he would just smirk at her, sometimes even giving a small wave. He walked leisurely as she hurried along, not too concerned about losing her down the long hallway.

It didn't take too long to make it outside, the sun just recently risen up from behind the horizon, and he could just barely make out Korra's figure sitting up on the veranda. He gave one last wave to the Acolyte, who just gave him another glare in return, before stuffing his hands into his pockets and making his way up the hill.

Korra was sitting cross legged facing the ocean, but she couldn't keep still, at least one part of her body always fidgeting. Her hands moved, slipping from their position, even reaching back to give her bottom a little scratch before attempting to keep still again.

He stifled a laugh as her dark skin contrasted with the orange temple robes, the sleeves pushed back to expose her toned arms in a way that he was sure the Acolyte didn't appreciate.

Tahno didn't even try to hide his presence, walking forward and leaning down to whisper into her ear. "Please don't tell me you plan on shaving your head next," he said. Korra jumped, her legs almost numb from being in the same position for so long and fell over with a grunt.

She rubbed the side of her head, and pushed herself back up and glared at him. "Couldn't you put a shirt back on?"

He shrugged and crossed his arms, smirking when he saw her eyes trail across his chest. "Didn't have anything to put on." Korra rolled her eyes and tried to stand up, but her legs wouldn't allow her too, falling over again.

Tahno laughed and plopped himself onto the ground next to her, crossing his legs and easily sitting in the position she once was in. "You need to clear your mind. The point of meditation is to not think."

"I expected you to be the last person to go all Tenzin on me," Korra pouted, rubbing her thighs before joining him. "Didn't take you for a meditation type of person."

"I meditate before every match," he said, taking deep breaths and allowing his body to relax. "Help me keep focus."

He could feel the sun against his face, warming his skin. The wind blew against the tree tops, the leaves rustling in the distance. He could hear Korra beside him, still shifting, still not quite understanding.

But he released it, just allowing himself to feel and hear and just be. As thoughts of Amon and his bending tried to pry into his brain, try to prod at the bruises that Tahno knew would never really hear, he just let them go. But the sun burned through his eyelids, not quite darkness but red that shone through his eyelids.

Tahno wasn't sure if he could ever get away from that color.