Author's Notes: 7/1/12. Thank you so much for your patience! You've all waited so long, so I won't bog this notes section down with anything but this: I read all of your reviews and I appreciate every single one with all my heart. Please remember to leave a review when you have finished. :)

MUSICAL INSPIRATION: "I'll Be Your Lover, Too" by Robert Pattinson even though it really has nothing to do with anything except for the fact that I love the way it sounds and (one of my all-time favorites, though I usually reserve it for SasuSaku) "What We Will Never Know" by Innerpartysystem.

Beta'd by the beautiful ebonyquill.


the high life

too close


"You know, when you said last night that I'd finally get those private lessons, I didn't think..."

Tahno eyes her expectantly.

"I just thought..." Korra flounders momentarily, then blurts, "This isn't what I had in mind."

He eyes her from across the wide-open rooftop, leaning comfortably against the building's ledge, and smirks. "What? You can't honestly tell me you were expecting something a little more... orthodox."

"Well," she retorts, arms tightly crossed. "Even with your questionable insinuations aside, I didn't think it would be this."

"And what is this, exactly?"

Korra scoffs. "A crash course in breaking the rules?"

For a moment, there is only the caress of the slow breeze swimming lazily through the early night air. The moon is rising high and nearly new, a faint gleaming sliver against the backdrop of darkness and stars dulled away by the lower city lights. The chill has undoubtedly strengthened over the last hour or so, and for a second Korra actually feels a twinge of regret for refusing his jacket so staunchly... especially since there's no way her pride will allow her to ask him for it now, not when she'd made such a big deal about not needing it—and what was it, really, she thinks sourly, that I was trying to prove?—and especially not when his eyes are smiling. They seem to ask, Did you forget who you are dealing with?

He stands then, tall and lean and fluid with his shoulders tossed back, his fingers flexed and curling, his stance strong, and for a startling moment, Korra thinks she almost might have.

"Evasion is all part of the game," he replies smoothly, sending Korra reeling back from her thoughts. His brow tilts smugly when he notices the way she watches him shrug. "Confusing the opponent, gaining the upperhand—"

"I asked for help with waterbending," she insists, leaning forward while keeping her feet planted firmly onto the rooftop; she has the sneaking suspicion that her defensive stance might be more for the sake of regaining some sense of mind than for the sake of her argument. Regardless, she hisses: "Not how to cheat!"

"You trust my bending insight, or you don't," he jibes in turn. "You do, don't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Why, Korra... do you feel cheated?"

She glares. "Do you feel clever?"

"As much as ever."

"I'm beginning to see what you mean about this being a bad idea," Korra grumbles crossly, still standing near the opposite ledge. "If this is what you're planning on putting me through, then maybe I'd be better off learning waterbending from Beifong. Or just handling these lessons all on my own."

"Yeah, well," he mutters darkly. "Something tells me you already know a thing or two about cheating."

Korra blanches. "What?"

Tahno offers her a strange expression. "It was meant as a compliment," he says slowly. "I told you before that you would have fit right in with the Wolfbats... I bet you only play fair because you're used to letting those ferrets talk you into it."

"Oh," she says quietly. Right, Korra, she berates herself mentally. Stop jumping to conclusions. Stop being so jumpy. He didn't mean anything by it. He doesn't know about me reading his file in the police station. He still doesn't know about the kiss with Mako. He—

But Tahno is making his way across the roof, eyes lit with meaning, and with a decision made so quickly that she doesn't even remember it consciously, Korra's already ready to let him lead her. Tahno comes toward her, stopping just out of arm's reach, and Korra clears her throat. "But seriously, I don't get it. You're going to teach me how to cheat? Again, howdoes this relate to waterbending?"

"What, you think Amon is going to play fair? Or anyone else for that matter?" he asks her seriously, critical brow slanted shrewdly. "Besides," he whispers then, low and deep and sensual. "It's water—playing dirty is kind of the point."

Korra huffs a deep sigh, and roughly shoves his devious face back a few inches, feeling too jittery to let him see the goosebumps that have risen over the skin of her arms. Tahno chuckles as he stumbles back—but he's sturdier now, isn't he, he's stronger and—she's reluctant to concede so soon, right off the bat, but on the other hand, she's honestly a little anxious to get going, too. Korra has been craving this opportunity like a cat-fish out of water, and while she's still unsure of exactly how he's feeling about all of this... well, neither of them can deny the renewed vitality surrounding him now. She looks him over slowly, and he lets her. Even if it means that he is back to his sleazy self somewhat.

"All right, enough talk," he says brusquely, crossing his arms as he looks out over their makeshift training pad. "Show me some evasive maneuvers."

"Evasive? Right now? Alone?" Korra asks with confusion. "What happened to the fighting part?"

"Just trust me."

But Korra isn't convinced. "How am I supposed to pretend to evade when there's no one there? Shouldn't you be attacking me?"

"I want to see you go through the motions first."

"Let me guess," Korra rolls her eyes. "This exercise is all a part of your teachings repertoire too, then? On how to become a world-class cheater?"

He smirks. "I am a master, after all."

"You should write a book."

"Perhaps I will."

"I wouldn't buy it."

"You are stalling, Avatar."

"Avatars do not stall, pretty boy."

"Apparently this one does," he gloats while Korra fumes.

"I don't—"

"But enough of that. You asked me to teach you something useful, and that's what I'm going to do," his voice rings clearly through the night air, and Korra falls silent despite the petulant desire to have the final word. "You can question it all you want but there is no uncertainty on the matter: evasive tactics can be just as important in a fight as the offensive ones. It means being able to think on your feet, gaining the upper hand on a potentially unfavorable situation, tricking an opponent into thinking that—"

"Seriously, are we talking about evasion or cheating?"

Tahno pauses, then smiles thoughtfully. "In many ways, technically speaking, I suppose they can be very similar."

"Super," she mumbles.

Tahno watches as the corners of her lips quirk into an adorable frown and the corners of her eyes tighten with irritation. "Well, then. Get started."

So she does.

As she swivels and turns, going through set after set, she can feel his eyes following her with an intensity that she hasn't experienced in ages. The obvious changes in him start piecing themselves together in her mind and it sends her heart overflowing with warmth. He is healing, she realizes.

But even so, she is cautious. There is an added sharpness to his features now, a calculative gleam to his stare, a careful precision to his thoughts, like all the turning cogs in that big head of his are rotating away, on and on, never stopping for an instant. This is Tahno the fighter, resurfacing. This is Tahno the fighter, and she can't help but wonder again if maybe this wasn't such a good idea. There is a spark, a rekindling of the old Tahno, the one she used to know—or thought she did, maybe—but there is also is a darkness. There is a shadow cast over his face that reeks of a quiet hatred, of a slow-moving poison, of revenge, and she thoughtlessly wonders if this training—she'll be faster, stronger, better—hints at other interests that might be at stake, deep and lingering and simmering just below the surface.

"Focus," his level voice cuts out over the rooftop, through the sounds of Satomobiles below and of people calling out to each other on the streets. "Sloppy doesn't even begin to cover that last half-turn. Force can amount to very little without proper form."

"You sound like my firebending teachers," she grumbles under her breath. But this time she'll admit that he's right.

Privately, anyway.

From across the way, unnoticed by a swiftly-moving Korra, Tahno tenses. His mind immediately jumps to the Fire Ferret—does she ever train with him like this?—before he can fully prevent it, but it's squashed almost immediately because he is not worth the time. But minutes pass, and as he sits there with his arms crossed and his eyes as helplessly drawn to her as ever, Tahno is struck with a moment of solid, heavy clarity.

Because while it's easy to focus entirely on her and her grace, to watch the movements and lines and curves with a careful eye, to let the rest of his mind run blank, to feel nothing but the chill on his face and the warmth escaping from his skin, there is still a growing emptiness inside him that he cannot ignore, a hole that cannot be filled. It is with this gaping hole that he aches with every fiber of his being, still feels like there is a dull, miserable weight holding him down. He cannot deny it. His bending—part of his soul, his very life force—is gone. He is no longer the man he used to be.

But it's more than that.

And as his eyes trail along the flowing movements of the waterbending girl before him, his mind whispers questions—of what ifs—to which there may never be answers.

His thoughts wander back to the firebender. This boy, this insignificant little rodent on the face of the planet, has attached himself to Korra in many ways that Tahno cannot fully grasp; they share the same island, the same team, the same table—the same bed? his gut wrenches, but no, she's already admitted that it isn't like that, no matter how much she may someday want it to be—and he thinks of all the other things that she and Mako are able to share: Training? Regrettably. A battle? Of course. A life together?

Tahno hesitates, swallowing bile.

Even if the Ferret didn't realize soon enough what he was missing and ditch the heiress, or even if he did and Korra chose to let him go anyway, there would inevitably be someone later down the line to take his place. He thinks of this man, this phantom lover who will one day give Korra all that she deserves and, immediately, he is sick. Haven't I already come to terms with this once before? He has, but no matter what he thinks about in his moments of weakness, he doesn't dare presume that he could ever fill that role, that he could do her justice. He thinks of life and lessons and not realizing what you've got until it's gone, and—

He doesn't even have a choice anymore, does he?

Tahno never thought that this would be something he'd want, it's a life he'd never imagined, but he's no longer got the choice—it's yes, it's always yes—and something wrenches inside of him.

"Well," he mutters suddenly, squaring his shoulders uselessly. "Unless this is only as half as good as you perform for your other teachers, we're fucked," he remarks sternly, and she sends him a less-than-modest glare.

"Well, why don't you show me how it's done, Sifu?"

"Sifu?"

"Would you prefer Sifu Pretty Boy?"

Tahno smiles slightly in spite of himself. "I could get used to that."

Korra frowns. "Whatever. This would be a whole lot easier if I had something to work with. Or rather, someone else."

"Evasion tactics aren't just about dodging potential attacks," he explains evenly, approaching her slowly but keeping his distance. She notices, if the furrow of her brow is anything to go on, but he continues before she has a chance to call him out on it. "It's about visualization. About finding the opportune moments, and reflexes, and strategizing while actively working your opponent... whether that leads to an eventual contact or to escape. Either way, successful evasion requires patience."

"Perfect," she interrupts. "Because I have loads of that."

"And you think I do?" he teases, coming a little closer, and then with a condescending tap to her nose, he smirks, "Now shut up and stop interrupting."

"Some professional you are."

"I said I was a master, not a professional," he says. "I never claim to be more than I am."

"Jerk," she grumbles.

Tahno sighs and relents, looking dubious. "You ready for some combinations?"

"Finally!"

"All right," he breathes deeply, staring her straight in the eye. "But you gotta be quick on your feet. If you don't think fast enough, it won't matter what the rest of your body does."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Korra says quickly, and her excitement is flowing through her limbs so rapidly that all of her movements become wide and large and fast. "So what's the best case scenario here? I mean, if everything goes ideally?" Tahno ponders it seriously for a moment then holds up three fingers with a twisted smile.

"Assess, act, and fly like a wolfbat out of hell. It's a rather convenient formula that will serve you well. "

"Wait," she halts. "You want me to run away?"

"Was I unclear?"

"Seriously?"

"Of the most serious kind."

"I'm not the type to run away from my problems," she proclaims evenly, trying to hide the sudden debilitating doubt that has crept into her blood, seemingly out of nowhere. She remembers the rough fingers of a man—a coward—behind a mask and the nightmares of a soul—a life—torn to shreds and, abruptly, none of this feels real. Or perhaps too real. This training isn't a game. This is supposed to be providing her with another line of defense from the man—the monster, the symbol—who is determined to destroy her. I'm not the type to run away, she thinks again. I'm not. And then her thoughts stray to a night with the moon, the wind, and the sand. "I'm much more likely to dive in and attack from straight-on."

"So... intimidation tactics."

She glares. "No."

"A huge display of force ? To overwhelm and overpower your opponent?"

"Well, when you put it like that," she sighs, and then, suddenly, "Tahno, I don't think I'm cut out for this."

He starts. "What?"

"It's just like with my airbending," she explains, suddenly frustrated for reasons that she cannot fully describe. "Air is supposed to be like, the element of freedom or whatever, of flowing with the movement, but not like with waterbending, and I always have such a hard time just... flowing, you know? More like... ugh, I don't know how to explain it."

Tahno takes another look at her and sighs. She feels terribly inadequate, like she has somehow failed him too, but before she can try to describe her feelings any more clearly, he steps closer, takes her arms, shakes them out, and loosens the muscles. Korra looks at him over her shoulder with annoyance; he merely gives her a warning look.

"Try looking at it this way," Tahno explains slowly, eyes piercing her own. Her lips part, breath slipping through in a gentle wave, but Tahno is already circling around, a predator stalking its prey, and then he is behind her, his lips hovering near her ear. "Amon is coming after you, and soon. He had you once, and since then he has been biding his time, hiding in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to give his plan the optimal impact."

Korra swallows, brows drawn together and spine stiffening with tension, but Tahno slides his fingers over her shoulders and down her arms, using expert thumbs to knead out the tension and roll the space between the blades. He trails fingers down her back and, using two hands—one on the spot below her ribcage and the other on her lower back—he straightens her posture, softening the spine, and lets go.

"All this time you've been waiting for him, too," he shifts, now that she's more relaxed, and begins leading her through some basic maneuvers. "He took advantage of your frustration once, when your anger became too much, and you spiraled out of control. It made you lose your balance."

They lean forward and back, weight shifting onto the balls of their feet, movements long and slow and full as she relearns and rehearses the appropriate motions of the set. His fingers have left her body altogether, and haven't made any further contact with her skin, but he hovers close, guiding her movements with his own, and she can still feel the heat of him at her back. "The trick is to make him feel the same," he continues, voice quiet, but somehow it's still enough to cut straight through to her brain. "When he comes after you, you... you let him get frustrated, make him lose his balance. Once you've worked this to your advantage, you can use it as an opportunity to find the holes in his defenses, or you can save the fight for a later day. Think about all that he knows about your character, Avatar. Will he ever expect you to not fight back? By utilizing these evasive maneuvers, you can already form some cracks in his guard, and then, if it's the right time, you can break through it."

"But..." Korra swallows, trying to find her voice. "Breaking his guard will mean having to break my own."

He shakes his head. "It's all about the timing. When an opponent attacks, even if they keep their guard up, there will be a moment when their thoughts are focused on the attack and not the defense. This is the best window of opportunity you'll get, and it's the best chance you'll have to make a move and then flee. You should attack aggressively and quickly."

"Well, I'm plenty good at that," she smirks slightly. "So the best defense is still a good offense." Piece of moon cake.

"Mostly true," he concedes, shifting, twisting them slowly, guiding her in wide, sweeping rings of infinity across the roof. "But it's not just about the strike. Your offense and defense must coincide and work together... You need to be smart about it. If you sense danger, dodge or block before it becomes dangerous, and strike at the same time."

"I thought evasion was all about waiting?"

"It's about patience," he whispers into her ear. "And timing."

"What's the difference?"

"It comes with practice."

She huffs, but is impressed in spite of herself. "You know," she begins, uncharacteristically quiet. She allows the awe to leak through her voice, just a little. "I don't think even half the city actually realizes what goes on inside that big head of yours."

"Probably for the best."

She sends him a small smile, wondering if the self-depreciating comments might ever disappear again, but now is not the time to mention this, she thinks. He is doing his job and she needs to focus on hers. "Tahno," she asks seriously. "How am I going to apply all of this to the showdown with Amon? I mean, it all makes sense in theory, but... it's still like my airbending."

"I suppose it's not that hard to see why you're struggling," Tahno muses, not bothering to mince his words as he picks up their pace slightly. "Avoidance and evasion were some of the most treasured tools of the airbenders."

"Are," Korra corrects quietly, feeling a whisper of some deep, age-old guilt that she does not dare explore. She feels tired suddenly, like all of this is somehow pointless. Like she has lost sight of something important. She shrugs, as if it will release her from her skin-grown-too-tight, and steps away, breaking from his invisible hold. "But I just can't relate."

They still, the two of them alone on the rooftop in a city of greed and life and the beginnings of something closer to hope, and Tahno's feet follow her path. "Then focus on the effect," he enunciates lowly, and he comes no closer than before, but suddenly Korra is blinded by the feeling of having something so solid behind her, by the abrupt feeling of being grounded. Her feet are flat over the cement, her arms loose and listless at her sides, and yet she can feel the growing urge to let herself fall into him, feel herself being beckoned by some unseen gravitational pull. She swallows hard, and it occurs to her, like a swift punch to the chest, that she wants to know if this is anything like what he might feel. "You're thinking about it in the abstract," he whispers, and a shiver runs down her spine. "Imagine it. Try to actually see it happening... you, finding away from Amon, stalling his plans, finding his weak spots. Not being able to catch you. Think about what it does to a person, psychologically, when they cannot touch you."

Korra inhales a shuddering breath, and then—

"What are we really doing here, Tahno?"

She's turned to face him, has broken the spell, but the residual power still lingers, crackling like lightning electricity across the space between them. Korra is reminded of a fight, of a sea of glass on the bathroom floor, and of a fight within a dance—a dance is just a—and she's finding it hard to breathe. But Tahno has not moved, and his eyes surprised and wide, too dark with the night sky—she can't tell if she prefers the light of the ice—and when he still can't seem to find his voice, she presses closer.

"Tahno, what happened that night on the beach?" she asks quietly, but there is an urgency creeping into her voice that she hadn't known was there.

He's caught off guard, but croaks, "What?"

"The night of the Festival of the Moon," she whispers, eyes alive with a fear that is wreaking havoc at the pit of her belly. "What happened between us?"

And then he pulls away.

"I haven't brought it up before because of everything that's happened," Korra rushes out. "And because it seemed like—like we had some sort of unspoken agreement that some things were just better left unsaid, but... I can't not know anymore. I need to know."

"Know what?" he asks briskly, and Korra's eyes narrow at the callous tone. The hell? "It happened. End of story."

"No, not end of story... I stillhaven't been able to stop thinking about that night. Nor... nor what came after it. And neither have you," she rounds on him, stepping closer even when he makes a move to place more distance between them.

"What do you want me to say?" he asks, voice vicious and angry, but Korra doesn't understand what she could have done to make him so. Except... except perhaps, for hearing something she wasn't supposed to hear during a nightmare she shouldn't have known he'd had. But he doesn't know that; that was just one of the many things that she had learned to keep from him. And he's stronger now. Isn't he? What the hell, she thinks again. I've had enough of this crap.

"That wasn't just two opponents having a pre-match spat," she spits. "There was something between us, even then."

"What makes you think there's something between us now?" he digs, eyes hard, defensive, and she can see his protective wall piling up like a surging tidal wave. "Or have you already forgotten our little agreement?"

"Don't try to slip your way out of this," she hisses, ignoring the sting of the words she feels no matter how clearly she knows them to be untrue and—

"What is there to say, Uh-vatar?"

so, we're back to that?

"Admit it, Tahno," she stalks forward, voice low and sharp. "The night of the festival, that night on the beach, when I... when I healed you... it all means just as much to you as it means to me."

His lip curls, and his eyes narrow, but Korra knows—she knows, she knows, she knows—and she's not about to give up now. She can't. But she is so, so tired of playing these games and she never thought that things would go this far, honestly, and with Tahno I don't have to keep up the act... right?

"You still think you know what goes on inside of my head?" he laughs, dark and deep. "You haven't any idea."

Korra breathes deeply, but instead of giving her strength, it only makes her dizzy. "What are we doing here, Tahno?" she asks again, bitter and frustrated, and the fatigue finally makes its way into her voice.

"I thought I was supposed to be teaching you something."

"You know what I mean," she whispers evenly and, somehow, it still sounds to Tahno like an ultimatum.

And the real problem is that Tahno does know.

He knows that despite all that's happened—despite everything—he has already been granted more than he could have hoped for, and somewhere along the way, he had forgotten himself. Tahno knows that Korra does not belong with him. While she still has feelings for the firebending rat—and this grates over his nerves like nothing else can, like sharp claws tearing into bone—he knows now, in this instant, that the fire ferret won't last. Not for long, anyway. The problem is that someday there will be somebody else who will; somebody who is deserving of her, and somebody who will fight alongside her, who can offer her something more than just half-remembered lessons from a past too swathed in bitterness. It won't be him.

"It was then that I first saw you as more than just an opponent," she tells him. "When I first saw you as a man instead of just a rival."

"Yeah, well," he coughs, fighting to keep his voice harsh and bitter, and has to turn away his gaze. "I was a different person then."

"Maybe in some ways," she concedes gently. "But you and I both know that it's not the whole truth."

"What do you want to hear?" he demands. "That I see myself differently? The world? That I see you differently?"

"Don't you?"

And when he turns away entirely, it is because she is right.

"How do you see me, Tahno?" she creeps closer, cautious, as if she might scare him away. The thought sends his stomach rolling because it shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be like this. "How do you see me now?"

And against his better judgment, against his own will, Tahno considers all that he has considered before, but never while she was so near, never while she stood so close.

Tahno had wanted her because he'd wanted the challenge, the victory, the feeling. Before the match, he'd been restless with anticipation at the thought of having the chance to get closer to her again, to reach out and take her down a few notches—to take her to bed—and knowing—wrong, wrong, wrong—that they were going to see each other, alone, after he took home another championship kept him reeling for days. The thrill that she wanted him, that he was forbidden, that she was resistant, it all made it so much sweeter for him, and it would be even sweeter when he—and not the firebender—finally had her, over and over and over again. And then—when everything was lost—she'd become a link, a reminder of his past, his mistakes, his stupidity, and a reminder of what could have been. Even at the very beginning of that sickening period of time drenched in darkness and alcohol, some small, sick part of him had actually enjoyed knowing, deep down, that one day he might be able to hold it over the Ferrets' heads that he'd had her. Even while so weak and pathetic, while receiving her aid, her attention, her support, he could discern that his weakness somehow had a hold over her, and the thrill of knowing that the Avatar—the most powerful creature in the universe—responded this way to his touch... Well, he'd wanted that too.

Tahno looks at her now, blue eyes shrouded in uncertain certainty, and he doesn't see her as a healer, although she has healed him. He doesn't see her as a warrior, although she has fought. She's all of it. He sees her now, and he wants her because he wants her. He wants the fighter, he wants the healer, he wants the loyalty and the determination and the stubbornness. Tahno wants the brightness, the fire, but he wants the darkness that comes with the rest of it, the pain and the pressure and the suffering and the humanity. He wants her body, he wants her mind, and though he doesn't care much for the hundreds of past lives before her, he thinks he might even want her spirit, too.

He wants all of her.

"First," he whispers, voice thick. "How do you see me?"

"I feel for you," she says simply, and feels all of the painful inadequacies of the words. But worse still, in her words Tahno hears somethingmore—or perhaps less—and his chest constricts.

"The last thing I want from you is pity," he promises, but a deep wave of disgust washes over him because that isn't entirely true, is it?

"It's not pity," she says quickly.

"Oh, it isn't?"

"It's not... just pity."

"That's not good enough," he laughs bitterly.

"Then what would you prefer, Tahno?" she asks, angrily, almost desperately. "Then what do you want from me? Because you obviously seem to know something about what the fuck it is that you want, yet you don't have the guts to just come out and—"

"I want all of you."

She halts, then swallows her heart.

"Then take it," she tells him quietly, and she can hear just as well as he the distance that she puts between them even now, that impossible-to-break protective barrier, with the words—take me—left unsaid, but still hanging in the air, an implication in the open invitation.

It's one, two, three beats of her heart—and then he is there, standing before her, close enough to touch, but still far enough away that she's afraid to reach out across the canyon and close the gap. He stares down into her blue, blue eyes, searching, and Korra doesn't dare blink.

"If you mean that," he warns, low and clear. "Our entire agreement will be thrown off-balance," he warns.

Korra knows this, knows that there may not be any turning back, but her blood is pounding in her veins, flowing like it's on fire, and has the inescapable feeling that this was bound to happen, that it's unavoidable, inevitable, and if not tonight, then when?

"I know," she whispers, scarcely moving; she fears that if she acts too quickly, if her body responds without thinking, the words will die in their throats and they'll be gone before they can even think to bring themselves back.

"What about not wanting any distractions?" he asks, but he too can taste change in the air, and temptation is heavy on his tongue. He is right there, so why does he still feel so—

"I'm not talking about commitment," she says carefully. "I'm not going to let myself lose sight of my true responsibilities. And especially not now. But I'd be lying if I tried to tell myself any longer that I wasn't already in too deep."

When Tahno laughs, his long bangs falling into his eyes, she's already familiar with the terrible, heart-breaking sound. "You only live once, right?" And Korra thinks, well, not exactly in my case, no. But then the silence stretches and the humor leaves his eyes. "So this is it?" he breathes, eyes uncertain and hungry and drowning in the intensity. "You want this?"

Korra inhales a shallow breath, because that's all her lungs can take and—

People had always cautioned her that playing with fire would get you burned, but she wishes that someone somewhere along the way might have warned her not to play with water instead.

"I want this," she tells him.

She expects him to move and when he doesn't, her lips burn with need. He looks conflicted, torn over something at which she can only guess. "What is it?"

"Tell me," he whispers, eyes probing.

"Tell you what?"

He smiles a sad, disparaging smile. "Tell me what you want."

Something within Korra clicks, like the world falling back into place, and in the seconds before she crashes into him, she whispers, "I want you."

She reaches for him and by the time she's even lifted her arms, he is on her, kissing her like there is no tomorrow, like he is pouring his soul right into her, and it's only a kiss, but it's nothing like they've shared before. She feels his fingers pulling at her hair, perhaps a little too rough, a little too tightly, but she only reciprocates, feeling the fierce pull of her fingers through his dark strands. Korra hadn't even realized he'd been guiding her back toward the hatch until her legs hit the railing, and when it comes time to take the first step down, it's she who pulls him, drags him with her as they stumble their way down into the dark and pull the door shut.

Her feet hit the floor in the same moment that the resounding slam echoes through the corridor, and it sends a jolt through her bones. But before she can even blink away the confusion, Tahno has her up against the wall of the passageway, the hall leading to two modest apartments in the upper tier of the noisy, busy bar below and—

She has barely regained her footing, hardly moved any closer to his door, to their destination down the hall, but she is already removing his shirt, tearing away the fabric with nails and knuckles and shaking fingers, ripping it clean from his torso as they break away, gasping for air. Her hands are everywhere all at once, clutching, digging, exploring anything she can get a hold of, while Tahno slides her across the wall, working his way down the hallway as he works on her throat. He shifts to open the unlocked door, reaching for the handle with a relatively free hand, but Korra takes the advantage, twisting, throwing him back against the cheap, peeling paint and tears open the fly of his pants. Gasping for breath, throat already raw from the ragged breaths seizing his throat, Tahno gives the handle a vicious twist, and all but swings her into the threshold. They stumble together into the pitch blackness of the room, Tahno's old, ratty shirt forgotten and abandoned in the darkness of the hall, but Korra still has some semblance of mind to turn the switch of the lock once she is thrown back against it. The fur is gone, the hair is down, and Korra trails wet, hot kisses over the slickness of his skin, brushing tongue and teeth and lips over the line of his collarbone, down his abs, over his arms, at his neck, and when she comes back up he is pulling her top free. His eyes crawl over the bindings with a hunger that is never sated, and with his fingers pulling at her hair like this, with her thick, heavy strands falling against her shoulders and down her back and over his chest, she vaguely wonders what it is, exactly, about this time that is so different when—

She hits the bed with a breathy gasp, skin too hot even in the cold room, and she looks up at Tahno leaning over her, long and lean and still-strong muscles rippling with the effort expelled not to crush her entirely, to where he is hovering just above, too far away. Korra reaches for him again, fingers twining behind his neck as she juts her hips upward, wordlessly urging him forward, begging with her eyes, demanding to know why he has stopped

"One night?" he breathes, barely audible against the sound of their tortured heartbeats.

Her chest is heaving with the breaths that will not come, and her head is dizzy, light with the high—that only he gives her—and it occurs to her that he's been kissing her like there's no tomorrow because he isn't sure that there will be any tomorrow.

And will there be? her mind whispers.

She lets out a soft laugh and, though she knows it's not much—it's not enough—she allows a small, ironic smile. "We've never really been very good with having just one of things... have we?"

Korra can see the curve of his lips tilting upward in the grayscale shadows and her heart swells within her chest. "No," he smiles through his words; it is a keen, tentative smile. "No, I guess we haven't."

"Will that be a problem?" she asks, eyes challenging.

And when he slowly shifts his weight over her, creeping his legs inch-by-inch over the mattress, fingers splayed wide across the sheets as they stretch along the length of the spaces along her sides, hips dipping teasingly low, elbows resting on either side of her shoulders, chin barely touching hers as he looks down at her with those sharp, heavy-lidded eyes, Korra feels chills break out all across her body, racing across her limbs in a rush that leaves her breathless and wired.

"Not as long as you've got the nerve," he whispers, and even in this light, she can see his gray eyes question just as much as they demand.

Korra tilts her chin up, just a slight movement at the neck, and lets it fall ever-so-slightly to the side. Her eyes are locked onto his, unblinking even through the lidded gaze. Korra remembers a night of ice and firelight and a dance, and when she speaks, her smiling lips brush against his.

"Always have."

He kisses her then, lips sliding over hers with careful precision, heart pounding with reckless abandon, and he takes her, fingers sliding into place among the threaded, knotted strands of her hair as they—take each other and—settle down onto the bed.

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It isn't until nearly dawn, long after she has kissed him goodnight and set off into the streets to make her way back to her island fortress, that it occurs to him that something about this night, about the words she has said to him feels unfinished, as if they had been been severed in some critical way. It takes him a moment to recapture the memory—a dream-like vision from another life—to find what is missing.

And once it comes to him, a mere heartbeat later, it doesn't allow him peace for the rest of the night.

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Always will?

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NEXT INSTALLMENT:

Arc IV: discord the cracks begin to show