Author's note: I'm so glad to finally be writing from Lin's perspective. This story is about the Beifong women - their relationships, their growth and development, and mostly importantly their love for each other - so I want to make sure to every dimension of their story.

Again thank you to all my readers - you are all so wonderful - and I always welcome comments, critiques, and constructive criticism. I'm already working on the next chapter, which I will reveal is in Sun's perspective and involves a visit from Tenzin. The chapter after that is going to be fun to write, and hopefully enjoyable to read, but I won't spoil anything there.

Enjoy!

Lin could not sleep that night. Rain pelted against the windowpanes like viciously hurled rocks. Before each furious clash of thunder, a burst of lightning streaked the sky. Despite the warning, Lin never was prepared. The seasoned Chief of Police still jumped out of her skin. As a child she had loathed storms - they were uncontrollable. Adult Lin acknowledged there was nothing to fear while safely wrapped within the layers of blankets piled on top of her mattress. In her maturity, she had come to appreciate the power of thunderstorms - they were both terrifying and beautiful. Wild and recalcitrant. Stubborn and loud.

Yet she felt uncomfortable that night. Cold even in the warmest of conditions, Lin shivered but knew her insomnia was due to another reason. Something nagged at her - she could not assuage her worried mind even as she lay on her side with her right arm curled under her pillow.

"Mom!"

At the feeble, frightened call from beyond the room, Lin rocketed from her bed wrench the door open in time to receive the small child with a head of tumbling black locks who launched herself at her mother. Lin felt the fear vibrating from her daughter - the tiny child quaked against her mother's breast. Lin pulled Sun closer.

"Shhh." Her voice soft, gentle, coaxing, and yet firm, Lin stroked the crown of her daughter's head - fingers brushing through tangled ends of her long hair. "It's just a storm, Sun. It can't hurt you."

"It's so loud," Sun whimpered with a cracking voice muffled by proximity to her mother's clothes. Only a mother could crave the feeling of her daughter's damp tearstains against her clavicle.

"Thunder just likes to show it's boss."

Sun peeled her face from her mother's chest to meet her eyes, soft brows knit as she tried to understand - as she tried to rationalize that which she feared. "It's just noise?" she sniffed.

Lin nodded, pressing her chin against Sun's forehead and closing her eyes. "Yes." My darling. "Come." Mother pulled daughter onto the bed and allowed her to nestle herself against the body that had carried and borne her six years before. Under the soft blankets they were together. Pressed against each other, each finding peace from the warm emanating from the other's body, they were safe. Mother protected daughter, and daughter clung tightly. Mother and daughter serving as constants, shields, anchors, rocks - representing more than the world to each other.

The plate shattered against the wall, sending irreparable shards of all different shapes and sizes flying to the floor. "What were you thinking?" Lin exploded in a torrent of rage, bellowing at her daughter in the kitchen. "I was worried sick!" Stupid disheveled girl - bursting through the door in the earliest hours of the morning - reeking of sake and cigarette fumes. High on nightlife.

"Hands up - it's the Fun Police!" Sun snorted - her voice betraying a small slur, which Sun hid behind a rebellious smirk. She struggled to stand upright even as she completed her insolent mockery by raising her pale arms over her head of thick, long, black hair. She only fed the furnace of her mother's fury. But Sun knew how to push Lin's buttons, and she loved every minute of it. A bright and shining star, now a tangled and ragged beauty grown ugly by way of the disappointment she embodied. Alluring green eyes hidden behind gobs of smeared black kohl meant to say 'not a child,' but conveying 'hardly a woman'. "Piss off, Chief. Nothing happened."

If only the plate had hit Sun. If only it had wiped away that horrid look on her daughter's face. If only it had knocked some sense into the girl. It was strange how a child could grow to hate her mother.

In turn Lin hated what Sun had become. She even hated that low cut tacky blue dress she was sure cost more than a new stove for the kitchen. He must have bought it for her. And then he must have torn it off her - one of the straps was snapped right in half.

Sun's svelte figure pivoted to dance down the corridor to her room, but Lin was too quick for her. She bounded across the room with a giant stride in time to grasp her daughter's bare shoulder and violently yank her backwards. Upon impact, Sun reacted, though sluggishly because she was still swimming in the remnants of liquid revelry. Earth shot up from underneath the floorboards at the lifting of her big toe. Lin, present and coherent, jumped back, releasing her daughter, who fell into the wall, cursing.

Shocked and hurt, Lin could not compose herself. Sun never had used her earthbending to maliciously attack her mother. From her indecent position against the wall, Sun glared up at her mother - eyes shimmering with a brutal coating of venom. The earthen foundation beneath the Beifong home had snapped and splintered the floorboards separating mother and daughter. Both then realized there would be no clean break. Forgiveness was out of the question.

A light sleeper by nature, Lin, who had not had a restful night since Sun was thirteen, often rose long before dawn. Her empty house provided both haven and prison; she was trapped in the echoes of the very place she chose to hide after the day ended. She tried to work as late as possible. Longer hours at work meant fewer hours spent alone with her thoughts - with herself.

Her morning consisted of a routine - a ritual, even: a cup of steaming jasmine tea to savor before eating just enough to satiate her. After her breakfast, Lin would don her metal armor before locking the door behind her and silently making her way downtown to Headquarters. And every morning the enormous stone statue of Lin's mother served only as a reminder of everything Lin missed, and of the failure she carried with her.

She left a note for Sun: 'going to work. Won't be back until late. Have food for meals. Maybe take Lira shopping - some money in the second drawer on the left below sink.'

But Lin did not go to work right away. Kept warm in in the morning chill by her coat, the Chief of Police walked, but not along the familiar route to Headquarters. As one metal-clad foot fell in front of another against the thawing ground, Lin found herself in a situation that had long ago proved dangerous for her: Lin was lost in thought.

Lin only had opened the door to find her daughter and granddaughter at her threshold the previous evening - a mere matter of hours before - but she felt as if it had occurred years ago. The numbness she had felt so suddenly come over her then returned as Lin trod along the familiar but then so distant streets.

The scar on her beautiful daughter's fair face. She wanted to kill the bastard - she wanted to make him choke on his own silver tongue. How dare he touch her daughter. How dare he change her. At twenty-four, Sun already bore the signs of stressful maturity. Still lovely, but weathered. Worn. Lines had begun to crease her face. Bags long before had taken up residence under her tired eyes.

And Lira. Lira. Lin's granddaughter. She was so pretty - the spitting image of both Sun and Lin with her fair skin and thick head of long inky black hair. But she had her father's eyes. And she was six. Six years old. Lira was the timer on Sun's absence: six long years. Eighteen years young then.

Lin's wandering took her along well-worn path she had traveled in her youth: to the harbor. To a ferry. To Air Temple Island.

To Tenzin.

Lin needed a rational mind, even if Tenzin too often lost battles to Lin's impatience with his spiritual "fluff" (as Lin, once endearingly, jested).

Several yuans out of pocket later, Lin sat at the helm of a small fisherman's boat motoring across the choppy waters of Yue Bay. She breathed deeply to smell the sea's salt mingling with the foggy air around her. Overhead gulls cried pitifully for a bite to eat - they mourned their hunger and sang their dirge in raspy voices.

All still slept. Fortunately only Tenzin dutifully, but groggily, answered the door. Lin could not humor Bumi or explain herself to Pema in her state. "Lin," he greeted her, surprised and politely masking his annoyance with her for waking him. His face fell, though - the airbender's gray eyes shone with concern under thick, slanted brows. He knew her too well - even still. "Lin, what is it?"

"Can I come in?" A foreign tone in Lin's voice alarmed Tenzin. He immediately ushered her into the house and to the kitchen. Tenzin offered Lin something to drink - then something to eat - but each time received a level 'no'. Even when gently told to sit, Lin stood rigidly - defensively - against the counter at her back. Lin could not uphold her typical composure around Tenzin. Not this time. Finally, her shoulders fell forward in a slump of defeat. "Sun's back."

All Lin had not been able to convey the previous evening at the doorway was displayed plainly upon Tenzin's face: utter astonishment - incredulity.

"Last night," Lin continued, her voice dipping in response to the exhaustion nagging at her body.

Lin's old friend was at a loss for words. He knew the complete history between mother and daughter only too well. Tenzin understood, perhaps better than anyone else, how Sun had been Lin's life - her life's love and labor. Tenzin had played comforting witness Lin in her breaking down: still strong, still smart, still independent, still abrasive - but utterly broken. Shattered. Beaten. Lin had retreated further into her armor - she became wholly untouchable. Entirely inconsolable.

Still silence.

"I'm a grandmother," Lin then admitted, as if disbelieving the fact herself.

"You're - ... She - ... what?" Tenzin was stuttering - fluctuating between many different questions and thoughts at once. It was habit Lin both annoyed and found endearing. Now she felt indifferent.

Lin shook her head as she pressed on, her narrow green eyes glued to the floor. "She's got a kid." Lin paused, biting the inside of her lip before going on. "A six-year-old kid."

When Lin was able to look up, she was sure Tenzin was performing the silent calculations in his head - just as Lin had done. Then it was Tenzin's turn to slowly move his head left and right, as if mourning lost youth. His eyes glistened, Lin noticed. He was heartbroken as well. Tenzin had loved that little girl. He had been a father to her when there had not been one in the picture. In a way, Sun had been the child Lin and Tenzin would never actually share. She was their 'what could have been.'

"How are you holding up?"

Tenzin's inquiry was genuine, but Lin still snorted and crossed her arms in front of her. "How do you think?"

Realizing she had been harsh, Lin retracted. "I'm sorry," she repented quietly.

"Don't be."

Moments of silence elapsed before Lin's features softened in remembrance of her own mother pressing a single palm against Lin's swelling stomach. "I remember Mother telling me Sun would be a handful."

Toph had beamed with pride. 'It's a girl - and she's definitely an earthbender. It's like she trying to kick her way out. Just can't wait to see the world, can she?' Lin had placed her own hands on her middle, moving them to focus her attention on the life growing inside her. 'She's been keeping me up with her antics.' Toph had chuckled. 'Get used to it. If she's like this three months before she's due, imagine what she'll be like in a couple of years.'

The mere thought of a child had been terrifying enough for the normally fearless Lin Beifong. A child who would constantly keep her on her toes? A young woman who would grow to hate her own mother so much she would abandon her for a gangster? Nothing in Lin's life had ever been romantic - she had learned long ago not to dream too far and too high. If she fell, it would be a long way down.

Lin's vision blurred, but she kept the corners of her mouth pulled back in a tight smile as she tried to keep hot, salty tears from spilling down her cheeks.

"Lin," Tenzin comforted her, drawing close and placing his hands on her shoulders - firm, safe. Lin hardly ever cried, and if she did she kept it to herself. She shed her tears alone. Tenzin was the exception, though. At first he had not known how to comfort Lin - back when they were two young people in love. Gradually, he had learned, and, gradually, Lin had come to accept his being there for her even when she begged to be left alone.

Their lives had opted for diverging paths - they had changed - but since becoming close again Tenzin could still show his support for his old friend - his dear friend. He could not, however, fix anything. No one could. No one could piece back together the splintered heart of a beaten mother.

Eventually Lin went to work. To be busy, she figured, is to self-medicate. Lin threw herself into any task: scratching signatures on the lines of paperwork thrust her way; training the newest metalbending recruits who Lin believed looked as scrawny and lacking in command as malnourished monkey-lizards, and drilling her seasoned officers. So much needed to be done. Avatar Korra only had restored the bending of Lin and her metalbenders - they needed practice to shake off the rust of inactivity and the emotional trauma of losing enormous parts of their identities. Bitter work was the only way to ensure they would regain their status as the elite protectors of Republic City, which desperately needed its police force.

The Equalist movement would not subside overnight. Amon had disappeared, but cutting off the head of an idea only encouraged the sprouting of three more in its place. A threatening shadow hung over the city, and many believed it was only a matter of time before Amon returned or another leader took up the mantle of the underdog messiah of the disenfranchised. An idea could not be killed - only temporarily put to sleep.

Like a watchful guardian, Lin kept tabs on every street and down every dark alley of Republic City. Metalbending police teams carefully surveyed each district day and night, as residual anti-bender sentiments often manifested in riots, muggings, and street fights. The city still was at war with itself - internecine violence threatened to tear everything peaceful about Republic City apart.

Perfect timing for the return of the prodigal daughter.

Lin's demeanor took a sharp turn from her usual abrasive sourness to aggressive churlishness. Others would pay for the things Lin could not control. Professionalism be damned - Lin couldn't keep the fire of her personal life from igniting when exposed to the oil of her work life.

The trainees waded out of earshot before wondering what they had done to earn "the Harpy's" wrath. Lin lacerated her officers for each mistake, and turned on anyone who gave even a grunt of complaint.

Claws out, fangs bared - the only way for Lin to get through the day.

She dreaded returning home. She and Sun eventually would have to sit down and have a conversation using fully constructed sentences. That was unavoidable, especially if Sun and Lira would continue living with Lin. Briefly Lin wondered if Sun had read a newspaper or listened to a radio - or even gossip - over the past months. Had she any inkling to what she and her daughter had returned home?

Ground rules needed establishing. Sun would need to find a job - feeding three people could not be done on one woman's salary. Lira would attend school.

Then there was the husband. Lin's countenance contorted at the mere thought of the arrogant criminal - the bastard responsible for it all. She blamed him.

Lin was aware he had lost his bending early on, along with other well-known members of the inner circle of the Triple Threat Triads. Yet Lin still felt the distinct and distasteful bile of fear rising in the back of her throat. If he did not know Sun was back, he would soon. Without his bending he was still a threat - the Triads were some of the most powerful individuals in the city.

Perhaps he would even get it back. Avatar Korra still was conferring with the city's Council to decide whether or not the bending of these crime lords would be restored. Cynical as always, Lin fought with their advocates. Fairness? Fairness was not at issue - fairness was what had gotten Republic City into this mess in the first place. Avatar Aang had taken Yakone's waterbending from him - why not do the same and keep the crime rate from rising even further? In the long run, Republic City would be safer, and Lin's job already was difficult enough without having to consider the safety of her daughter and granddaughter.

Slumped over her desk in her unlit office, Lin put her throbbing head into her calloused hands. She fought to keep the nightmarish memories at bay, but again and again they proved too strong.

Mom - We're eloping. Don't bother.

Strangely Lin had saved the note - a scribbled piece of torn and creased paper capable of ending a mother each time she noticed it folded into the corner of her bottom drawer. A reminder of a scar still raw and searing.

Sun had not even signed it.

Don't bother. Those two words were so hurtful, so hateful, and so loaded. Don't bother coming after me. Don't bother begging me to come back. Don't bother crying over me. Don't bother doing me any favors. Don't bother loving me because I sure as hell don't love you.

As if doing any of these things would be even remotely possible for Lin Beifong.

Lin was the last person to leave Headquarters that night, stepping out into the cold night air as she tied her coat around her armor. Before Sun had come back - before the city had fallen to pieces - everything had blurred together. The seasons were indistinct. Nothing marked the passing of time, and Lin felt nothing as she moved forward in endless monotony. Completely numb - there was no soft center beneath her impenetrable exoskeleton of armor.

But then love came walking back into her kitchen. A new life - a second chance.

It was then that feeling returned.

Lin paused at the foot of the steps before turning to meet the stony gaze of her mother's statue above the building's entrance. Fists authoritatively rooted to her hips - Toph Beifong bore an omniscient smirk - the same with which Lin had grown up. Toph knew everything; you couldn't hide from her and you couldn't lie to her. Normally slouched, Toph stood straight for once, proudly and domineeringly over her domain - over her second child. Though rocky and stubborn, she always had the answer. Toph always knew what to do. Pragmatic. Realistic. What would you do, Mom?