-. Better Beginnings .-

PART III

"I know you're blind, but I didn't think you were also deaf! How many times do I have to tell you to stay still?"

In a once pristinely decorated room in Zaofu's Healing Center, Toph and Korra stared each other down, both vying for alpha status even though it had long since been deemed a lose-lose battle. A janitorial staffer came in humming, took one look at the scene and wisely chose to back away. Judging by the streaks of mud decorating the walls and torn up furniture, he had probably expected to a pack of rabid fire-ferrets to pop out of hiding and attack.

"You can't tell me what to do, Twinkletoes! " Toph used her bending to catapult a clay vase across the room and Korra barely had time to duck before it shattered inches behind her head. "You think you can live in the Spirit World for a couple of years and now own people? This is blatant kidnapping! I demand that you bring me back now or so help me..."

"Or what? You'll dirt me to death? Just deal with it, grandma."

With an exaggerated growl of frustration, Toph continued to claw at the collar of her silk robe as if it were made of burrs. In fact, she probably would have been more comfortable if her clothing were made of such vegetation, as long as it was pulled fresh from the mud.

It was the cleanliness more than anything had her writhing in agony, missing the layer of her element as if it were her very skin.

"It's only for a few more days," Korra reminded her as she reached to sort the various intravenous tubes getting tangled by the tantrum. "You just have to relax". Her aim had been to sound supportive, but it came out exasperated. Like she would rather be anywhere else in the world.

There were many reasons she had avoided humans for so long and her recent lack of sympathy was one of them. The Spirits, though followers of their own, seemingly illogical rules, were at the very least independent. But when Jinora's astral-projection had found her a few days ago with an urgent request from the Beifongs, it was a well-timed reminder that the creatures of the tangible realm also needed her help. Or at least her powers. It was her job, conscripted from birth, to help them.

No matter how much certain beings resisted.

Little did she expect the task to be comparable to wrestling an elephant-rhino into a tutu.

"I promise you'll be back in your swamp, happily rolling in filth as soon as you let this treatment run its course. Your daughters are worried."

"My daughters," Toph scoffed as she kicked at the platinum ankle bracelet that chained her to the bed, "are ungrateful jailers who don't have the stones to let me just die already! You were right to never pop out any little brats. If I had known that it would come to this, I'd have left them with the bloody badger-moles!"

At another time, only a few years ago, this moment would have been the death of the secret. The legendary truth-seeker would have immediately picked up the spike in Korra's heartbeat, the barely discernable tremble in her fingers as she distracted herself by smoothing out the sheets, and all would be revealed in an instant.

This version of Toph, however, despite the loud and violent resistance that left Korra with a black eye and innumerable other bruises, was not at the top of her game. In fact, she was barely at her middle, toe-to-toe with the likes of Korra and any other, advanced earthbender.

Even this mere minute of squabbling burned through almost all her energy stores. Korra saw this in her expression as she eventually, having no other choice, calmed down and settled against the pillows, looking impossibly small and pale against the white, silk sheets.

"I just want...to be in my swamp," she whispered, closing her milky irises and taking an obviously uncomfortable breath of bleach and lavender. "Is that so much to ask?"

Korra pressed her lips together and glanced up at the steady drip of medicine flowing into Toph's veins and she felt a rare pulse of regret. She should have known, should have remembered, that it was the consequences ignored - and there were always such consequences - which became the most scarring in the end.

"You're right," Korra admitted, awkwardly patting her clammy hand. "I overstepped. Again."

Toph scoffed. "What else is new?"

"If you struggle through another two hours of this as a personal favor, then I'll find your kids and negotiate a compromise."

"No need, Avatar."

Toph's eyes snapped open and she turned her head in the opposite direction of the door. "Lin? Is that you?"

The retired Chief of Police sauntered into the room with Toph's standard, dirt stained tunic draped over her forearm. Her expression automatically softened upon seeing her mother and realizing that, for the first time, the blind woman could not see her.

"Long time no see," Korra quipped, trying to lighten the mood, as she relinquished her bedside spot to Lin. A brief twitch of the lips was all she received in thanks. Korra didn't expect or desire much else. There were obviously more pressing matters vying for attention.

Believing it best to leave the family alone, Korra tiptoed backwards over the threshold and down the hall. She was practically out the door when she noticed that her strides weren't taking her as far as they should be. The steel tiles beneath her feet were being dragged backward like a conveyor belt with increasing speed and until everything, from nurses to tables to lamps, was being yanked backwards in a one-directional earthquake.

It only stopped, resulting in Korra toppling face-first onto the ground, once she was back at Toph Beifong's door.

"I was lying, you know."

In the second it took to get her bearings, she wasn't surprised to seeToph's withered hand crumpled into the room's wall as if it were made of paper, allowing her a link with all other connected metal in the institute. Lin was standing nearby with her hands on her hips; disapproving yet undeniably amused.

Korra rubbed at the large bump forming on her forehead. "Lying about what, Toph? About being old? Cause I'd believe it? Ow."

"About my daughters, nincompoop! Geez, do you hafta be such a drama queen?"

Korra met eyes with Lin, who shrugged and mouthed she's tired.

"Do think I can't see you?" Toph shot her eldest daughter a glare, a little far to the left but still menacing. "Whatever! Before I go, I just want her to know that I don't regret them. I'd never regret them. Alright?"

"Regret what?" Asked Lin, oblivious.

"You two girls! My reasons for dragging things out as long as I have! My pain-in-the-ass, shoddy metalbending, thoughtful, stubborn, beautiful, amazing...amaze…" The passion of the speech left her winded and Lin had the help her lie back into the pillows to catch her breath.

"You should go."

Guessing it wasn't a request, Korra gave one last dutiful nod before exiting. She trusted Lin to follow her mother's wishes and return her to the swamp before the end.


Toph died less than a week later.

Korra felt her presence in the Spirit World the instant it happened while the rest of the planet was only informed after several days, once the body was discovered by some hikers. She was found in a particularly muddy part of the swamp, her feet bare, hair loose and a smile on her face.

Lin and Suyin, after much squabbling, decided to leave her there. Knowing that all she wanted in the end was to become one with the earth.

The question of why Toph had pulled her back to the room that day, to make sure she heard her true feelings regarding her children, continued to irk Korra. She wondered how dampened the old woman's skills actually were when she held her hand and if she could tell, even without speaking, that Korra's heart was tangled in a lie to itself.

After dredging up and dusting off what little emotional bravery she had in stock, Korra decided to attend the funeral in Zaofu. Toph had been the last remaining member of Aang's team. This generation's Avatar was duty bound to publicly pay her respects to all they had accomplished.

That didn't mean she wasn't prepared to bend her way through the nearest wall if necessary.

Suyin's assistant had been kind enough to let her peruse the guest list prior. Or at least wasn't vigilant enough to keep her from stealing it. Knowing the formal ceremony would be brief (Toph had had very specific requests. No Spirit Hooey. Lots of hooch. Ground shaking music), Korra planned the wake circuit like a military invasion.

She started off easy; the target with the lowest defenses but highest position. First, she approached Opal.

Heavily pregnant with her and Bolin's fifth child, she still ran over to embrace Korra with an effortless grace worthy of a Master Airbender. Within the three minutes reserved for chit-chat, Korra was informed that Bolin was off at a tournament with their three eldest, Kira, Jade, and Reno, and couldn't make it back in time. Of course, Korra had already known that, but feigned disappointment anyway. She was also made aware of another, recent blow to their happy, huge family status: their only son, four-year-old Reno, had lost his sight after a bout of fever.

Before being able to express sympathies, Opal was quick to assure that he was just as able bodied and adventurous as his sisters. Inspired by his great-grandmother, Reno had befriended the local pack of badger-moles and his seismic sense was improving every day. They had no doubt that he'd quickly forge his own path.

Korra was glad to hear it. Honestly. She had a soft spot for those who grabbed the shoddy cards fate dealt and used them to build castles.

Next, after cleansing her palette with Tenzin, Jinora and the other air babies, she sucked in her stomach and approached Asami. That is, Asami and her new, gorgeous, older wife.

Her name was Shelinda Chao. She was over six feet tall, her shiny black hair fell past her waist in a braid, her eyes were a striking grey and she didn't like pickles. Korra knew more about her from the papers than she cared to know about anyone ever. A non-bender born in the city slums, she had earned a small fortune designing practical yet stylish clothing for the everyday working woman and was especially well known for romantic scandals. Before settling down, Shelinda had dated practically every young starlet in the Republic, from both the stage and big screen.

The woman had a definite type and Korra wanted to hate her for being shallow. Perhaps she been fooled, like Korra herself had been, into thinking Asami was a beautiful but prissy heiress with little else to offer. However, one look at the two of them, gazing at each other with a respect and awe rarely seen after so many years, their two adopted children running around their legs, Korra was reminded yet again that people could and often do change.

Her congratulations were genuine as she hugged each in turn and then immediately decided to take a break. She grabbed a green, gorgeously garnished cocktail from one of the many trays making the rounds and headed to the balcony.

It was there that she ran into another guest. One that had been further down her list but no less important or heart clenching.

She hadn't seen or spoken to him in years. Ever since that fateful day. She hadn't felt ready to be reminded. She still wasn't, but now was as bad a time as any.

"Hi, Dad," she muttered in greeting, eye glued to the drink as she stirred it with waterbending.

"Hi, Korra." Chief Tonraq responded somberly. "I've been looking for you."

She knew he had been. Not just tonight, but for the past thirty or forty months as a strange side hobby while on diplomatic travel. Unlike her previous tour proceeding the paralysis, she wasn't exactly hiding this time around. Ask any Spirit and they could have pinpointed her exact location. At least they'd try as well as they could in a realm where maps were as useful as chopsticks during an Agni Kai.

If anyone really needed her, like the Beifongs did recently, she knew Jinora and a few others had the ability to navigate. The fact that it had taken so long was proof that she was doing her behind the scenes balancing job well enough and that whatever Tonraq had to say, he knew she didn't want to hear.

"Well, you found me. Congrats." She took a lengthy sip of her drink for liquid courage. "By now I'm sure it's sunk in that I don't want to talk about it, right?"

"Yes." He dared to take a step closer. In the light, she saw his fists clench; a familiar, tell-tale sign of nervousness. "I understand. We've all moved on."

"Good."

"I do have something to tell you though. Something I've been trying to tell you since I did it. And though this isn't the time or the place, if you are going to go back out into the world, you need to know."

She couldn't think of anything he could say that would be a surprise. She kept tabs on everyone she had ever met through their spiritual energies connected through the vines. As a backup, she also made sure to grab a newspaper now and then. No one unexpected had passed on. No governments had any indication of toppling. Even this year's sea prune crop, despite rocky weather, had managed to pull through to the disappointment of every Water Tribe child.

She thought he was going to tell a joke. Something to break the ice encasing their family tree and return it to spring.

When he finally revealed his news, news that was three years too late to do anything about, Korra could only numbly stare for long seconds.

In the end, she chose to respond with only two words.

"Thank you," she said.

The mighty Avatar then turned and promptly left the party.

Tonraq let the years of tension float away and even dared to smile. It was the best reaction he could have hoped for.


Mako had once thought living on the streets had been the most psychologically damaging thing that would ever happen to him.

He had thought training to be a pro bender would be the most exhausted he would ever feel.

Only a few short years ago, he truly believed that losing his then recent appointment as Chief would be the most he felt like a failure.

He was wrong.

It was this day, sitting in that waiting room, his nails chewed to stubs, that was worse than all those put together.

"Mako?" Finally, a healer came through the swinging doors. Mako stood up so fast that he forgot the briefcase in his lap and it clattered loudly to the floor.

He didn't care, easily abandoning the proposals he had spent the better part of a month drafting in exchange for rushing the woman in the blue coat. "What happened? Is she okay? Why didn't anyone get me soon-"

"She's fine. It's just a broken arm."

Mako's world fell out of focus and he chastised himself for forgetting his glasses on top of everything. "Just a broken arm?" he repeated incredulously, not understanding how a word a innocuous as 'just' could be in front of an adjective like 'broken'. Especially when referring to a six year old.

"Considering she fell several stories off the school's roof, I'd say she got off easy."

A couple of years ago, the first time he was in this center, such a tale would have shocked him. He would have marched into her room and scolded her, banned dessert for the month and made her swear never to attempt any such reckless stunts again.

This time, however, when he opened the door and saw her sitting cross legged on the bed, tears of guilt forming in her eyes with her good hand cupping the broken one's sling, he felt only compassion.

"What happened this time?"

As she sniffed away the traces of emotion, he settled on the edge and let her shimmy closer until her head rested on his shoulder. She told him about the baby dragon-bird that had been crying outside the classroom window all morning. She told him that the teachers said there was nothing to be done and they had to let nature take its course. She explained her complex, rescue operation that involved stolen bedsheets from the infirmary tied together, a distraction in the form of a stink bomb so that she could sneak away, and then the use of her, frankly, uncontrolled airbending to jettison herself from the suspended sheets to the tree where the nest lived.

Mako blinked stupidly when she finished her tale, imagining the millions of ways it could and obviously had gone wrong.

The girl was crazy. Certifiably so.

And he loved her all the more because of it.

On their way home that evening, he picked up an extra order of dumplings from their usual restaurant, knowing she'd need some cheering up. He was sure another meeting with the headmistress was coming, another warning that he better get a handle on his daughter or she'd no longer be welcome. He knew that the client he had been prepping for tomorrow's deposition was probably a knot of nerves and already on the phone with Ba Sing Se City Hall, begging to switch representatives.

None of that mattered.

He lingered in her room for an extra hour after she had fallen asleep, continually adjusting the comforter around her small frame, stroking her dark-skinned shoulder, sweeping the tangle of brown hair from her forehead. Only after she woke up for a second and slapped his hands away with a huff of annoyance did he make his way to the small alcove off the kitchen that served as his home office.

Backup pair of glasses balanced on his nose, he tried to get to work composing key points for the deposition. As the typewriter stamped out the date and moved on to the salutation, he hesitated. His finger itched again. This happened at least once a month, primarily on days that were especially challenging to him as a person, let alone a single parent.

He glanced at the locked cabinet by his right foot, knowing that it was already packed to the brim with similar, ranting, pointless prose. Still, he couldn't stop himself anymore than he could stop the pull or the tides or the sun from setting.

He started to type.

Dear Korra,

She broke her arm today. Again. I nearly had a heart attack...

He typed until the first spears of dawn took aim at his retinas. After signing his name, he pulled the final page from the typewriter, meticulously folded and inserted the stack into an envelope and added it to the cabinet. There it would marinate, unaddressed, growing more bitter with every year that passed.


It was curiosity more than anything that finally broke Korra's self-censorship.

Guilt had long since been abolished. Regret had never been a factor. She stood by the decision that she had had no choice. If the current, lengthy peacetime was to serve as any evidence, she had been right.

She was sitting in the Republic Police Station archives, conscripted to assist the newly sworn-in Chief Thermin in digging up anything to link a new gang leader to past crimes, when it started. That damn curiosity. Everything she could ever want to know, she realized was at her fingertips.

She deserved a break, anyway.

It took her less than a minute to find his record; the multiple drunk and disorderly convictions that had led to his termination as Chief after a mere four months. Korra could not help but grimace as she shoved the file back into its cabinet and slammed it shut.

No guilt, she promised herself. It was for the best.

As badly as this experiment was going so far, she couldn't help but move onto the next section. The birth records. This took a little more time as she could only make vague guesses for time frames and legalities. The Republic was multiplying like rabbits, it seemed, as there were over one hundred new files attributed to each week.

She had been at it for four hours that felt more like four months when she finally stumbled upon his name. Surprisingly, it wasn't as a birth record but an adoption application.

Even though the folder became especially heavy within her hands, she didn't feel anything. Not really. Just curiosity again and she sat crossed legged on the floor and flipped through it as if it were a fashion magazine.

He had done everything with the consideration and delicacy that she had come to expect. Parents were listed as unknown. The child had lived for two years in an orphanage until he had been able to officially take it home. He had had to complete therapy and counseling all while pursuing an intensive law degree to become a legal aid attorney.

This was the only part that surprised her. Mako had lived for being a cop, just like she lived for being the Avatar.

She wondered if he had changed professions because he had no choice or because he wanted to. She wondered if it was just a new, less dangerous way of pursuing the same passion of keeping the streets clean.

The last note in the file mentioned a change of address. She had known for years that he was no longer in Republic City, having felt his energy shift throughout the network of spirit vines that tethered the planet together. He currently lived in Ba Sing Se at the personal invitation of Prince Wu, now that his extended family had also resettled in the vastly improved outer ring. With an increase of immigrants to the new Earth Republic, it was the perfect place for a once famous man to blend in and start anew.

She shut the file closed then, curiosity sated. It was just enough to give support to her choices and ease whatever nagging concerns remained about this story bursting onto headlines.

She purposefully kept her thumb over the file's name label as she placed it back in the cabinet.


The first time she asked about her, Mako nearly choked on his lychee juice. Even though he had prepared for this. Even though he wondered on a daily basis why she hadn't yet brought it up in all of her twelve years.

They were going over her biology homework at the kitchen counter while picking at sesame bun dregs; a bribe to get her to study. It was a normal, blissfully lazy Sunday afternoon between bending lessons and their weekly dinners with her great-grandmother plus the extended family. Perhaps it was the confirmation that mothers were biologically necessary that spurred it. Maybe that family tree craft from history class just started to look irritatingly lopsided. Maybe she had been wanting to ask for years but was so in tune to his emotions, intrinsically knowing that the subject was a rather painful one, that she kept respectfully silent up until she just couldn't take it anymore.

Most likely, it was the latter.

When imagining this conversation, he decided early on that he wouldn't lie. He'd never lie to her. But the full truth was also impossible.

He told her that he had loved her mother. He told her that she was a powerful, determined, beautiful woman. He told her what she probably already knew just from looking in the mirror at the dark shades of her skin and wide, almond eyes; that she was from the Water Tribe and had been a bender.

He also told her that she was gone.

He said this in a tone that purposefully didn't censor the agony he felt every time he thought about Korra. It was enough that she only nodded, faking gratitude for the scraps offered, before refocusing on her textbook.

It wasn't a lie. Not really.

Korra had been long gone before she was born.


Author's Note: This last part ended up being giant, so I split it. Again. I am somewhat failing at "one-shots". Oh well. Hope you enjoy. Part IV finale coming soon.