First of all, I want to apologize for the long wait for this chapter. I was going through a lot of stress at school and some personal issues as well. Thank you so much for your patience.
"The more people you love, the weaker you are. You'll do things for them that you know you shouldn't do, you'll act the fool to make them happy, to keep them safe." - Cersei Lannister, A Clash of Kings (George R.R Martin).
They sit in silence on the swing for a long time, both of them lost in their own thoughts.
Tarrlok holds her. Korra rests her head on his shoulder. The only sound is the chirp of the crickets, from the direction of the woods, and the creak of the swing's rusted chains. When the sun has nearly sunk beneath the horizon, he stirs, squeezing her hand gently. "We should make dinner," he says, voice a little hoarse from disuse.
They go inside together, and kneel to pet and cuddle the anxious-looking Sitka, before they start to cook. They don't talk much, with the exception of the necessities - "can you pass me that knife?" "I'll fry the vegetables," "I'll cut up the fish," "I'll boil the noodles." But they stay close to each other as they work, hips and arms brushing. Tarrlok wraps an arm around her waist while she chops the vegetables, and later, she holds his hand as he stirs the noodles. The two of them forego the small table in the kitchen to eat on the sofa together, after giving Sitka her usual bowl of fish stew.
They eat quietly for a while, which is unusual. "I know that every day makes a difference to Republic City, but I need to give the town two weeks' notice," Tarrlok says, at last.
Korra nods, and she realizes with a jolt that Tarrlok leaving means that the children of this small town will be without their teacher; one of the best and most educated teachers they've ever had. "Do you have any ideas about replacements?" she asks, in a small voice. Without somebody to teach at the school, the children who are ten or older will just start going to work with their parents, and Tarrlok had said repeatedly that he wanted these children to have more opportunities than their parents did. A lot of the students' parents can barely read or write. This is a poor town, after all, and the vast majority of people make barely enough to get by.
Tarrlok nods absentmindedly, setting his bowl of noodles aside. "Chang's father, the librarian, went to university for two years. He's overqualified for his current position, and I know that his family could benefit from the increased income this will offer him. I can talk to him tomorrow."
Korra leans against him, trying to offer some comfort. He looks tired; the fine lines around his forehead and eyes seem more deeply pronounced than usual. She has the feeling that neither of them anticipated, in the beginning, how much he would truly come to love this job. Maybe he can find something like it in Republic City, she thinks to herself, trying to ignore the fact that no parent will want a known bloodbender, the man who had kidnapped the Avatar, anywhere near their children. She shakes her head, trying to clear the thoughts.
The realization dawns on her that she probably has to do something similar, with the two weeks' notice, for all the people she works for - the town's butcher, and the three restaurants she regularly delivers fresh game too. Her heart feels oddly heavy at the thought. Despite her eagerness to return to Republic City as soon as possible, have her freedom back, and try and work to undo some of the damage Amon has done in her absence, it's probably good that she still has two more weeks here. It's enough time to say goodbye.
It's a struggle to wrap her mind around the concept. After such a long time living here, being intimately involved with the town and becoming friends with everybody in it, the thought of leaving, leaving forever, and abandoning her comfortable daily work and social routine, seems so strange and foreign. What had started out as a prison and a forced exile, filled with non-bending rural strangers, had eventually become her home - a safe, happy place, filled with the comforting routines of going to the market and going to work, and spending time with Tarrlok, Sitka, and her friends.
Her spirits plummet even further when she thinks of Emi and Roumei, especially. Two weeks ago, Emi had told her and Roumei that she and her husband were expecting their first child, her whole face glowing with excitement. You two need to get on it, she laughed, throwing her arms around their shoulders and giving them an affectionate hug. We can all help each other through being pregnant, and wouldn't be great if our children could grow up together and be friends, just like we are? The two of them had echoed the sentiment, and Korra had wondered fleetingly what it would be like, if her life could be that simple.
After Emi had left, she had stayed at the bakery with Roumei until it closed, both of them busy planning a baby shower for her. It's just strange to think that she won't be at the baby shower they had planned, or at their weekly meetings at the tea shop or the bakery, or when Emi's baby is born. And it's strangely difficult to think back to a time when her life didn't involve having an actual job; when all that consumed her time was bending practice and pro-bending. Her world had just been so small, before she had come here. She had hardly known anybody outside of her parents, the Order of the White Lotus, her old bending instructors, Tenzin's family, and the Fire Ferrets. Here, everybody knows and likes her. The neighbors, the people she works for and their families, the fishermen and merchants and their families, even the other girls that Emi and Roumei had gone to school with. They genuinely like her for who she is, rather than just admiring her and being nice to her because they know that she's the Avatar.
Korra closes her eyes briefly, struggling to hold on to her composure. "What are we going to tell people?" she asks, instead. "Taruq and Senna need to have a reason for leaving so suddenly less than a year after they came here to settle down."
"I was thinking we could say that my mother was taken seriously ill," Tarrlok suggests, after a few moments of thought. "She had a stroke, and since my father had passed on years ago, she's all alone in the North Pole, with nobody to help take care of her."
"And we're going back to help, of course. That sounds good." Korra thinks of her parents, and her chest starts to hurt. The prospect of seeing them and hearing their voices again, after she has wanted and hoped for it for so long, seems unreal. She closes her eyes, thinking of them; of the fact that within two weeks, she'll actually be able to hug them again. "Everybody knows how important family is to the Water Tribe."
"Exactly." Tarrlok pauses, frowning. "I think the real question is what we plan to tell everybody back in Republic City."
Well, that is a more difficult question. Korra frowns, briefly stumped, before taking her last bite of noodles and then setting the bowl aside. "I was thinking," she says, at length. "Maybe...over time...you started to feel really guilty about what you had done. Bloodbending me and the others, the kidnapping, the whole deal. Like, you felt horribly guilty. Especially because over time, living together, you and I became really close friends or something."
Tarrlok smirks faintly, despite the gravity of the circumstances; reaching out to toy with a stray strand of her hair. "Or something."
Korra looks down at her hands - the cuticles ragged from where she had picked at them over the past few days out of stress - and blushes, hating the fact that this part of the conversation is inevitable. But he had given her the perfect transition. She had been dreading blurting it out out of nowhere. "It's not that I'm ashamed of you - or - this...or anything," she says, all in a rush, thankful for the fact that over the past several months, she has learned to lie with a lot more ease. The feelings of shame come and go, though, so maybe it isn't entirely a lie, after all. "...But once we get back to Republic City, I don't think we should tell anybody about, uh, us. Not for a while, anyway."
She glances at him out of the corner of her eye, fighting the urge to squirm with unease. Tarrlok nods seriously, not appearing to take any offense or seem excessively hurt, and she lets out a breath she hadn't realized he was holding. He squeezes her hand lightly, looking saddened, but slightly, wryly amused. "Yes, I think that would be best for both of us. If my former colleague Tenzin and Lin Beifong had any idea, they would lock me up somewhere where I would never see the sun again, and I'm sure that you would be lectured on the error of your ways until you turn thirty."
Korra scoffs humorlessly, recognizing the truth in his words. "Please. Lock you up? My dad would actually try and kill you. With one of those." She gestures at one of the ornamental Water Tribe battleaxes Tarrlok had bought to decorate their house, so long ago, making an animated hacking motion in the general area of his neck. "Tenzin might kind of try to talk him out of it, just to say he did - airbending and nonviolence and all that - but then Beifong would just tie him up with metal and hold him out of the way."
Tarrlok grimaces. "You can't expect them to understand," he says dismissively, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles across the back of her hand. "They would just think that I've been taking advantage of you."
Korra scowls at the thought - they would, too, she can just imagine their aghast expressions and quietly horror-struck exclamations - before propping her legs up on the coffee table and glowering at them. "You are not. I'm not stupid, or a little kid." She had reached adulthood, according to Water Tribe custom, at sixteen. Old enough to get married and have kids of her own, old enough to go on hunts and out to sea by herself, old enough to strike out on her own and travel the world, or to the sister tribe in the North Pole. All of the others in the South Pole who were her age had done at least one of those things - and yet, even as her sixteenth birthday came and went, everybody in her life had still insisted on sheltering her and giving her slightly less freedom than the average ten-year-old. She doubts that's going to be any different when she goes back, even though she's eighteen now; pretty much a grown woman.
Tarrlok sighs, correctly reading the mutinous expression on her face. She had only vented to him about this about a hundred times. "Again, you can't expect them to understand that."
Korra frowns, pressing her toe against the corner of the coffee table until it hurts. That's true. As much as she wants to go back to Republic City and see her loved ones again, including her parents and Tenzin and his family...it's going to be hard to adjust, going back to essentially being treated as their child, after all this time living as an adult. That's part of the reason she had felt so strongly that it was a good idea to keep the exact nature of her relationship with Tarrlok secret, for now.
If only they could do that forever. As much as people will appreciate his repentance and the act of releasing her from captivity, she doesn't think anybody she cares about - let alone the press, if they ever hear about this - will ever forget the fact that he did hold her hostage for...it will be eight months, by the time they return to Republic City, and that he had held her captive in his basement and kidnapped her using bloodbending. It's the question of what the others will say, if they knew, when they come to know, that troubles her. For all this time, when they have been effectively isolated in the middle of nowhere, in their own corner of the world, it hasn't been an issue. But all of that is going to come to an end in two weeks' time. She can just imagine the expression of horror and disgust, mixed with concern, on Tenzin's face, and Lin giving her that confused, are-you-really-this-stupid look, and of course Mako, Bolin, and Asami won't understand either. How could they?
And none of that even compares to how her parents will react. Her dad, in particular, won't understand why Tarrlok isn't going to be locked up in the Boiling Rock for the rest of his life. Or worse. Just the thought of explaining to him that it's not going to happen because she specifically asked for it not to is enough to make her mouth go completely dry.
Korra pushes the thoughts out of her mind with some effort. They can just deal with it, she thinks to herself fiercely. None of them have lived through this, so how can they judge her? Besides, none of them know Tarrlok or understand him like she does. She won't deny that he has done more than his share of awful, questionable things, but he's really not a bad person at the core, and their relationship is in no way near as damaging as everybody will definitely paint it out to be. The fact that he had agreed to let them go back to Republic City for the sake of her well-being proves that. He loves her enough to go back on the plan that he had clung to for the past almost-eight months.
That fact still hasn't quite sunk in, even though she had replayed the conversation in her mind a dozen times over. The important thing is that she doesn't think he is going to back out now, not after talking over the details, like they just had. And she had meant what she said, too. She can protect him from any legal consequences that he might face when they get back to Republic City, as best as she is able.
The thought lingers in her mind as Korra settles herself on her knees, before leaning over and pressing a soft, tentative kiss to his lips. She wraps her arms around his neck, trying to pour all the gratitude and apology she feels into the simple gesture. Tarrlok reciprocates very gently, as if he's afraid that she will break under too much pressure, and she runs her fingers through his hair, pressing up against him, as he pulls her into his lap, cuddling her close. It's a struggle to keep her throat from closing up and to try not to cry all of a sudden, just from thinking back to all the times they've done this, on this sofa.
It's perverse, how badly she wants to go back, and how terribly she will miss the sweet simplicity of this, all at the same time. As much as she wishes otherwise, everything will change, everything will become a million times more complicated, the moment they walk out of this house for the last time. And there's no denying how important this relationship had become to her, and how important he had become to her, against all odds. But you can't have your cake and eat it too, Korra, an inner voice snaps at her. You can't have everything you want.
She is distracted when Tarrlok lifts her into his arms as he stands up, supporting her with one arm underneath her knees and one arm underneath her back, and Korra pouts through her tear-filled eyes. "Hey, it was my turn to pick you up."
Tarrlok kisses her on the forehead. "I'm sorry. You can pick me up anytime you want after this."
He carries her to their bedroom, and when they kiss again after he sets her feet down on the floor, her hands on his shoulders and his hands resting on the small of her back, rubbing slow, reassuring circles against the fabric of her dress, her flashback to the first time they they had ever been together is so strong that it nearly drives her to her knees. Korra buries her hands in the fur trim of his shirt before letting them slide up to his neck, pulling him down and into her, overwhelmed by the desire to be close. I don't want to lose you, she wants to say, and for once, it's like they're thinking on the same wavelength. Tarrlok holds her like he doesn't ever want to let go, so hard that her ribs ache a little, and she can't even remember the last time they had kissed with this kind of breathless passion.
Korra pushes him to the bed without breaking the kiss, walking him toward it until it collides roughly with the back of his knees, and Tarrlok collapses down on it with a muffled sound of surprise. He pulls her down on top of him like a blanket, carefully undoing her braids, pulling her hair free of the ribbons, and smoothing his fingers through it between kisses, until it falls over both of them like a dark curtain. The strands mingle with his on the pillows, the shades of deep, dark brown almost indistinguishable from one another.
Over the past months, she had found that she liked the way their skin and eyes and hair looked so similar. She lost count of the amount of times people they had met in the town had told them what a beautiful couple they made. Look, she had said once, when they had been having a picnic in the forest with Sitka, and had come across the lake. They had stood on the edge, hand-in-hand, and Korra had glanced down at their reflection, rippling ever so slightly in the breeze. We're a perfect match.
The thing that makes her sad is the fact that they could have been, once. If they had never fallen out, back in Republic City, and disagreed over how to best deal with the Equalist situation. Even if they had disagreed more politely. If they had sat down to talk about their differences over a cup of tea in his office, instead of losing their tempers and lashing out at one another.
Korra unbuttons his shirt and tosses it to the side, so it lands haphazardly over the lamp, in an attempt to distract herself from the thoughts. After Tarrlok undresses her, easing her dress down over her shoulders and then tugging it off her body entirely, along with the bindings that cover her breasts, though, all he does is hold her and rest his face against the crook of her neck, all the breath leaving his body in a long sigh. He presses a soft kiss to her pulse point, before doing the same to her chest, right over her heart. Korra stares at him uncomprehendingly for a few moments before the realization hits her, and when it does, she tugs on his hair lightly, making him look up at her. "Hey," she says softly, around the lump in her throat. "It's okay."
He sighs again, closing his eyes briefly and looking so, so tired, and sad. "No, it isn't. Seeing you like that," he says, after a long pause. "It was..."
Tarrlok turns away, unable to continue, and she can't ignore thinking about it any longer. If she had been in his place, if she had walked in on somebody she loved harming themselves like that, and known that it was directly because of something she had done, and that they had been doing it for a long while and hiding it from her-
Korra leans down and kisses him gently. "It's okay," she says again, quietly, trying her best to ignore the cold, creeping guilt that curls around her heart like a strangling vine. She wonders if he had felt this bad, whenever he had deliberately manipulated her. "I won't do it again. You're going to make it right."
"I will," Tarrlok promises. He takes her left hand and presses a kiss to the inside of her palm, and then, hesitantly, to the inside of her wrist. She had done a good job of healing the self-inflicted slashes and burns. The skin is as smooth and unmarked as a baby's. "I promise."
The next evening happens to be the day of her weekly meeting for tea with her friends. Korra stares at her reflection blankly as she gets ready, feeling numb, inside and out. Her stomach aches. She doesn't have to do anything to make herself look pale and worried, with slightly reddened eyes. Toughen up, she tells herself sharply. This is just going to be the second of dozens of unpleasant conversations that she is going to have in the next few weeks.
She had given the butcher and his wife her story just an hour ago, after returning from work; she had said that the letter from the North Pole had just arrived that morning. They had been so sad and sympathetic. They had fretted over her and told her how much they were going to miss her, but that she and Taruq were so good and dutiful. You're doing the right thing, they had both said. The lie had made her feel so guilty that she had needed a bath, and she's not looking forward to repeating it.
Korra finds Emi and Roumei at the bakery, talking in low voices and looking worried, neither of them eating. They both get up and make their way over to her hurriedly as soon as she walks in, and hug her in unison, murmuring soft words of comfort, before she can even say anything. Of course, she realizes belatedly. Kamlai and Niran are Emi's aunt and uncle, and Emi's husband helps out at the butchery as well as at the restaraunt he, Emi, and Emi's parents own. News travels fast in a small town like this.
They take her back to their table, and Roumei buys her a cup of hot tea and one of her favorite chocolate desserts. Korra picks at it, drawing lines in the cake's frosting with her fork. "We just got the letter this morning," she says dully, in response to Emi's question. Yesterday, when she had been talking to Tarrlok, she had been thankful for the fact that she had learned to lie with such ease. Now, she hates it. "It probably took more than a week to get here, so Taruq is really worried."
"So you're really going back," Emi says sadly. "It feels like you just got here. It hasn't even been a whole year."
Korra nods, looking down at the table. "Taruq's mother is way older than my mom, and she's all alone. The neighbor who wrote said that she can't walk now or use her right arm, and she's having a really hard time speaking."
"You should try to bring her back here with the two of you," Roumei suggests, patting her hand. "Zhen did a lot of work with neurological issues when he was in university, so he can help with general rehabilitation and speech. He's been working with the fisherman's father every week for more than a year now, and he keeps getting better. He can talk understandably again."
Emi nods enthusiastically, her face brightening up again. "That's a great idea! You know that it doesn't snow much here, so it'll be a lot easier for your mother-in-law to travel around in a wheelchair or with a walker or cane than it would be in the North Pole, too."
They both look so hopeful that Korra's throat closes over and the backs of her eyes begin to sting. "That does sound good," she manages, pushing a stray strand of hair out of her face, just to give herself something to do. Of course she won't ever be coming back here to live with her husband and mother-in-law. Tarrlok's mother hadn't lived to even see her son graduate from university. Besides, if she ever comes back to visit, everybody will know that she lied; that Senna the hunter from the Northern Water Tribe and Taruq the kind, intelligent primary school teacher had been the captive Avatar Korra and the horrible, evil bloodbender Councilman Tarrlok all along. It will be a massive scandal; fodder for gossip for years, maybe. That is, if Amon even lets her live long enough to consider returning here for a visit someday. "I'll talk to Taruq about it."
"Don't cry, Senna," Emi tells her anxiously. "Maybe it's good that you're going back to the North Pole for a month or two. You can make up with your parents and everything."
"Yeah - since you and Taruq have been married for more than a year now and everything is working out so well, maybe your mom and dad will accept it."
"Maybe," Korra says, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve, and trying her best to smile. They're both so kind, so earnest. Neither of them deserved to be lied to. It would have been nice to tell them the truth. "I hope so."
Afterward, Korra goes home and stands in the study and cries a little bit, despite her best efforts to hold on to her composure, as she touches the wall and the desk and the chair. She and Emi and Roumei would hang out here on weekends when they had been working on their amateur submission radio script. Roumei would sit on the chair and take notes, prim and proper, while Emi would sit on the desk and swing her legs back and forth enthusiastically, and she would sprawl out on the floor. It had been here that they had finally figured out their killer surprise twist ending, and had cheered so loudly that Sitka had given them alarmed looks and rushed off to hide in the bedroom closet.
This also happens to be the same place that she had first initiated anything intimate with Tarrlok. The first several times, he had always been the one to start it, which hadn't really been a surprise. Both of them knew that at that point, at least, he had been more in love with her than she had with him. One random evening, though, she had walked past the study and found him hunched over the table, writing lesson plans for an upcoming science class. For some reason, she had been struck by the odd desire to walk back and go in, and when she did, she had spent a few moments rubbing his shoulders, which then somehow turned to combing his hair with her fingers, with then somehow turned into kissing the back of his neck and running her hands over his chest.
Tarrlok had turned around and stared at her, and she couldn't remember the last time she had seen him look that surprised. In response, she had just pulled his chair away from his desk and sat on his lap-
"Korra?"
Korra turns, surprised, to see Tarrlok stepping inside. "Whoa," she says, shaking her head, wiping at her nose with her sleeve self-consciously. "I didn't hear you getting in."
He hugs her hello, and she rests her head against his chest. "I talked to Chang's father just now," he sighs, rubbing her back lightly. "He's willing to take on the job, so the two of us are going to see the mayor tomorrow."
Korra nods, looking up at him. "When are you going to tell the kids?"
Tarrlok grimaces. The prospect obviously isn't a pleasant one for him. He had started out in a constant state of frustration with his students, due to the fact that he was completely unused to interacting with anybody under the age of thirty-five. In turn, the children had labeled him the most "bossy and annoying" adult any of them had the misfortune to know. Over the months, though, Korra had watched as they grew on him, and in turn, they begin to appreciate him as well. The study has several crayon drawings taped to the wall, and on the rare occasions that she finishes work early and stops by the classroom to visit Tarrlok on the kids' lunch and playtime break, she usually finds him sitting at his desk, surrounded by a small group of children, listening to stories that they tell him.
"I'll tell them tomorrow," he replies, with some reluctance. "I think it would be best to give them some time to get used to the idea, rather than surprising them with it two days beforehand."
"Yeah, that's good." Korra absentmindedly straightens the fur trim on his shirt. "Some of them will cry," she warns. "And they'll look at you with these sad expressions on their faces."
Tarrlok winces. "I know."
"I told Kamlai, Niran, Emi, and Roumei today."
"How was that?" he asks, cupping the side of her face in his hand.
Korra shrugs with one shoulder, looking down at the floor. "Not fun. Emi and Roumei think that we're going to bring your mom back here to live with us after a couple of months, and I couldn't think of a way to tell them that it wasn't going to happen."
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, I guess." She hesitates, her shoulders slumping. "I just wish that life wasn't this hard."
Tarrlok leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I wish I could tell you that it gets easier."
Korra stands on the tips of her toes, kissing him on the lips instead, curling her fingers around his wrists. "Do you want to know what I was thinking about when you came in?" she asks, when they finally pull apart.
"Of course," he replies, giving her a small smile. "I always like hearing what's on your mind."
She leads him over to the chair and makes him sit, before sitting on his lap. She doesn't have to say anything more. "Oh," Tarrlok says, comprehension dawning in his eyes, as he wraps his arms around her.
She doesn't remember leaving the room, that night. The first time had been on the chair, the second on the desk. She had been so overwhelmed with emotion - desire for him on a physical and emotional level - that she could barely string words together, and Tarrlok had been touched and flattered by the fact that for the first time, she was showing signs of wanting him as much as he had always wanted her. Afterward, they had cuddled on the chair, and her last memory of the night was falling asleep in his arms, lulled by the beat of his heart. In the days and weeks and months that passed, she found that she could never think of the study in quite the same way again.
Korra sees her thoughts reflected on his face, for the second time in as many days, before Tarrlok takes the ends of her braids in his hands, lightly pulling her in for a kiss. It tastes sad and regretful, and she feels the plea in it; the same restlessness she's been feeling ever since she came back from tea with her friends. Help me forget.
She does.
When they're getting dressed, later, Tarrlok kisses her on the neck, as she re-ties her bindings. "Tell me that this won't change," he breathes.
Korra shuts her eyes tight. "It won't," she says, automatically, unthinkingly.
The two weeks pass.
In the first few months, when she had envisioned the day they would leave, it had been a cause for jubilation. There would be jumping up and down in glee and screaming with happiness involved. She would kick walls and punch doors out of sheer joy.
This is not the case.
They cope by trying to pretend that they aren't leaving; that nothing is going to change; that there isn't an invisible clock ticking down the hours until they leave, on the twentieth day of the month, to catch the merchant ship that will take them back to the United Republic. Tarrlok had bought the tickets two days after they had decided that they were going back. They sit on the bedside table, a silent reminder.
The two of them take Sitka for walks on the beach, and laugh when she tries to eat sand and chase crabs. They spar and play with waterbending, swim in the ocean, and have long conversations on the coast, the place where they've shared hundreds of talks, from the serious to the utterly ridiculous. With Sitka curled up next to them and Tarrlok's head resting on her shoulder as she holds one arm around his waist, Korra knows that no matter what the future holds, she'll always hold on to these happy memories.
Every day, they find small, different ways to say goodbye to the house that they had turned into their home; to the quiet and happy domestic life they had shared, because as much as they won't acknowledge it aloud, nothing will be the same after this, and they both know it. As much as she tries to stop it, to calm herself and control her anxiety by meditating every night, Korra's nightmares of Amon and the Equalists return in full force, and Tarrlok barely sleeps. For the first time since coming here, his nightmares worsen in frequency and intensity until they're just as bad as hers, and losing themselves in each other provides a much-needed distraction.
When they slow dance in the kitchen with a few candles lit, just like the time Tarrlok had first taught her how to dance, it ends with her pressed against the wall and Tarrlok kissing the hot chocolate sauce that was supposed to go with the strawberries they had bought that evening off her bare shoulders and collarbone. One morning, Korra decides to act out one of the fantasies he had confessed to her, and sits on the bathroom counter and helps him shave, while wearing nothing more than one of his unbuttoned work shirts. They hold each other tightly at night, every night. Sometimes they try and talk through their thoughts and fears, and sometimes they don't.
Five days before their departure, Korra climbs off him, sweaty and exhausted, and curls up beside him, her entire body feeling pleasantly warm and tingly. The yak-bear-skin rug underneath them is rough against her skin, and the fire crackling in the fireplace warms the sitting room far more than is necessary, since it's finally summer. She pats Tarrlok's face once, affectionately, and then leans down, brushing kisses over his forehead and cheeks and nose. "You know what's weird?" she asks, tucking the top of her head underneath his chin and nestling close, as he wraps an arm around her.
"Hmm?"
"I can't even imagine doing this with anybody else, now," Korra confesses quietly, closing her eyes and tracing a finger in lazy circles over his muscled upper arm. "You know. Touching someone and kissing them. Letting them touch me. And stuff."
"Really?" Tarrlok starts rubbing slow circles against the base of her neck with his thumb, making her sigh and arch against him.
"Mmm. Really."
He turns, kissing her on the temple. "Good," he says softly.
The last five days go by too fast. Before she knows it, one morning, Tarrlok tells her that they should start packing now, to avoid hurrying at the last minute. They strip the house of the Water Tribe decorations that he had bought for her, returning the large ornamental weapons and the oil painting to the furniture store because they will be too large to carry, and carefully wrapping the smaller things in tissue, as they pack them away. The walls, tables, and shelves look disconcertingly bare and impersonal in the aftermath. They empty their drawers and closets of clothes as well, and Korra lingers for a few moments over the gifts Tarrlok had given her when he had been "courting" her, as well as the collection of Water Tribe dresses she has slowly amassed. She can't pinpoint when she had become so comfortable wearing them, and she sits on the floor as she folds them and presses them into her bag, trying to imagine what it will feel like to be able to wear her old clothes again and style her hair in the three ponytails she always had.
Her last weekday at work comes a couple of days after that. Korra catches a fairly large haul of skunkfish and salmon-shrimp in the first two hours, and spends the rest of the time wandering around the forest with Sitka, admiring the quiet summer beauty of the forest that she has spent so much time in. They stop by the lake; the meadow; the place on the outskirts of the east side of the forest where the wild strawberries grow. She eats her packed lunch by the stream with Sitka one last time, petting her trusty hunting partner. She visits the wolfcat den too, and she thinks she sees the old male she had bloodbended, once, lying in the cave. She leaves a few skunkfish at the entrance and departs silently.
When she goes back, Niran and Kamlai, the butcher and his wife, embrace her and give her a too-large bonus that she tries hard to refuse, as well as a thick cookbook filled with Fire Nation recipes, because they know those are her favorite. Korra thanks them profusely for their kindness and friendship, and she is unprepared for the sadness that washes over her as she hands Kamlai her bow and quiver of arrows. For the next hunter, she says. In case they can't afford one of their own. She misses the weight of the bow across her back as she walks home, and her fingers flex, unused to the feeling of emptiness, as she comes home and stands in the middle of their bedroom, not flinging her bow and arrows down into their corner, for the first time in more than half a year.
She had hated the thing, at first. She hadn't known how to work it. She had resented having to use an actual, physical weapon, instead of her bending. But over the past months, like so many other things, it had grown on her. It had become part of her identity.
That is Tarrlok's last day at work too. He comes home with a folder full of drawings and notes from his students, (perfectly spelled, with perfect grammar and punctuation), wishing his mother a fast recovery, as well as a handful of thank-you letters from their parents, and slightly reddened eyes. He sits on the sofa in the sitting room for a while, his head in his hands. "They are the closest thing to children that I have ever had," he admits, his voice muffled, when she hugs him, trying to provide some comfort. "I know Aiguo will be a capable teacher, but...I'll miss them."
Emi and Roumei drop by the house later that day to remind her that the picnic they had planned for her as a temporary going-away party, of sorts, is tomorrow. She and Tarrlok are leaving at sunrise on the day after that. The two of them try and occupy themselves by finishing all the packing and cleaning that has to be done, and they work themselves into a state of utter exhaustion, before falling asleep on the sofa a little before midnight, Korra sprawled on top of him.
Her picnic with Emi and Roumei the next afternoon isn't as emotionally draining as she had feared it would be, probably because they're under the impression that this isn't going to be a permanent departure, and she doesn't want to tell them otherwise. Not yet. You can't just leave them hanging, an inner voice tells her disapprovingly. That's not right, that's not being a good friend, when all they've ever been is kind to you. They'll wonder where you are, when you don't come back in two or three months, like you implied you would-
Korra shakes the thoughts away discreetly, as she bites into one of the small fruit tarts. But she doesn't want to ruin this day, she doesn't want to make it any sadder than it already is, and cast a shadow on the happy memories they've been sharing. Still, her insides clench up when they finally finish their leisurely meal and vast array of desserts, and when the sun begins to sink in the sky. She reaches for her sealskin bag, swallowing over her suddenly dry throat. "Hey," she says, trying to sound cheerful. "By the way - I have something for you guys."
Emi shakes her head, sitting up from where she's been stretched out on the picnic blanket. "Oh, Senna, you shouldn't have."
"Yeah, you've been so busy with moving and everything," Roumei adds, packing up some of the leftover fried rice and duck for her and Tarrlok to have for dinner.
"I wanted to. You both..." Korra hesitates, struggling to find the right words. Her friendship with Emi and Roumei has made this entire experience a lot more bearable. It's been a spot of brightness in the dark, from beginning to end. Spending time with them always gave her much-needed solace and a respite when the confusing, overwhelming reality of her circumstances became too much to cope with. She can't even imagine what this ordeal would have been like, without the support they had inadvertently offered her. When she looks at them now, all she wants to do is hug them and tell them what a difference their kindness and friendship had made to her, during the one time that she was vulnerable, andwhen she really, truly needed it. She's never wanted to open up to them as much as she does now.
"You're the first girl friends I've ever had," Korra settles with, finally, and that at least, is the truth. She had never really made an effort to befriend Asami, back in Republic City, and of course, she hadn't had any human friends her age when she had been growing up in the South Pole. It's only now that she realizes exactly how much this means to her, and how much the experience of actually having friends who are girls has taught her. "And you're both amazing. I've loved every minute of hanging out with you, and everything we've done together. I just wanted to thank you for being so welcoming." Not to the Avatar, she finishes, silently. Almost everybody on earth will be kind and welcoming to the Avatar. Emi and Roumei, on the other hand, had just reached out to a recent immigrant from far away, new in town and friendless.
Emi smiles, hugging her tightly, and Roumei does as well. "You're great too, Senna," Emi says earnestly. "We're really going to miss you."
Roumei nods, patting the packed picnic basket. "Write and tell us when you get there, and when you're coming back. I put a little note with both of our addresses in with the food."
Korra tries her best to smile, as she unzips her bag and takes their wrapped gifts out. "Just in case something comes up in the North Pole, and we end up heading back here later than we thought..."
She hands one to Emi, and one to Roumei. They tug at the clumsily wrapped ribbons and push aside the wrinkled wrapping paper, and Emi's mouth falls open as she pulls the hand-sewn receiving blanket free of the paper, before gently stroking the soft purple flannel. "This is so sweet! And oh, it smells of lavender! Did you make this?" she asks in awe, smiling at the bright yellow star border.
"It's beautiful, Senna!" Roumei's blanket is identical to Emi's, except for the border - kittens; appropriate for a woman who loves animals.
This time, Korra's smile is genuine, and she flexes her fingers ruefully, remembering how stiff they would get, after the hours of painstaking cutting and sewing. "I'm glad they came out okay," she says fervently, thinking back to her disastrous first attempts at mending tears in her dresses. Thankfully, practice had made perfect. Or decent, at least, enough to make her friends happy. She's never thought too much about babies in general, but imagining Emi and Roumei holding their future children, wrapped in one of her blankets, makes her feel warm inside.
"They're perfect," Emi says tearfully, blinking hard. "Thank you so much. Here, we have something for you too-"
Roumei gives her a long rectangular box - it's made out of carved, lacquered wood, tinted red. Emi presents her with the same thing, except the box is tinted green. Korra remembers seeing vendors in town square selling these, but she had never been curious enough to stop and ask them to open up the boxes so she could take a look. She opens Roumei's first, and blinks in surprise and awe as she takes in what's inside. "Whoa," she breathes, staring at the cherry-wood figurines, and lifting two of them free. One is a dragon-bear with minuscule ruby eyes, and one, she realizes with a jolt, is the Painted Lady that Master Katara had told her about. She can't consciously remember ever seeing them before, but her fingers tingle with an odd sense of familiarity.
"They're the most common patron Fire Nation spirits," Roumei explains.
"And mine are the Earth Kingdom spirits," Emi says, opening the green wood box, and showing her the five figurines inside, carved from very dark walnut. There's a falcon-antelope, and a man with the head of a lion-python. Korra lifts each in turn, the Earth and Fire spirits, admiring them, feeling the same tinge of residual familiarity each time. It's strange to think that her past lives live in the same realm as these spirits; that she's been to the world where all of them reside. In previous incarnations, she's probably encountered every single one of them.
"These are amazing," she says, with feeling.
"They're to guide you," Roumei replies. "To watch over you and keep you and Taruq and your family safe from harm, always."
Korra blinks back the tears welling up in her eyes, as she leans forward wordlessly, wrapping one arm around both of them and pulling them into a tight hug. She tries to keep the thoughts at bay, to focus on the here and the now, but she can't help but think of Amon, waiting for her and Tarrlok in Republic City. To the separate legal issues that Tarrlok might face, despite the fact that she thinks that him bringing her back will be enough to earn clemency for his earlier crimes.
They're going to need this protection a lot more than her friends could have ever dreamed.
That night, she and Tarrlok eat in subdued silence. He goes to bed early, and although he tells her that she should as well, because they have to be up early tomorrow, Korra sits up for half the night and stares out the window, unable to relax. She feels vaguely sick from the mingled, overwhelming senses of trepidation and anticipation; of joy and sorrow. She finally falls into a fitful, restless sleep an hour after midnight, after the thought crosses her mind that this may be one of the last times that she and Tarrlok share a bed, for a long time to come. She presses her hand against the soft mattress, thinking back to all the comfortable, quiet (and not-so-quiet) nights, and the lazy mornings, until she lapses into sleep with a frown on her face.
They wake up early on the twentieth day of the month, before the sun has risen. Tarrlok checks their bags, making sure that they haven't left anything important behind, while Korra fastens Sitka's new collar and lead around her neck. They share a simple breakfast of buttered seaweed bread at the kitchen table, while Sitka sniffs their bags in confusion.
Korra doesn't taste her food as she chews it woodenly, mechanically. Her stomach is churning with emotion even more than it had been during the previous night, her chest aching and throat tight. She finishes half her slice of bread and pushes the other half away, toward Tarrlok. He gently pushes it back to her. "Eat," he says. "You didn't like the food on the ship or at the harbor last time."
His words take her back to their nightmarish journey here, to the helpless fear and rage that had threatened to swallow her whole. Tarrlok had picked at the first meal that they had been delivered, in their cabin, trying to hide his disgust at the fare, and obviously unused to eating anything less than Republic City's finest cuisine. Despite the way he had glared at her, silent blame for their situation written all over his features, he had given her a share of the food and told her to eat. She had ripped her chunk of bread in half, dunked it in the lukewarm, watery vegetable soup, and thrown it at his face. Her chest clenched up in grim satisfaction at his expression, as the breadcrumbs exploded on his face and clothes, and soup dripped onto his clothing. I hate you, she had snarled, through gritted teeth. I hope you choke and die.
Tarrlok had wiped his face slowly, deliberately, and turned his back to her, shuddering quietly. She could tell how much of an effort it was for him to keep his temper, but he held on to it anyway. Fine, he said tersely. You can starve, then. I couldn't care less.
She had starved herself for almost an entire day after that, out of spite and misery. The next day, Tarrlok offered her the food once more, before leaving the cabin for "a walk." He had made no comment when he returned to find the plates empty, and she had been thankful for that.
Korra looks up, her gaze meeting his, and she can tell that they're thinking of the same thing. She lifts a hand to her eyes, and the sound that comes out of her mouth is half a laugh, half a bitter scoff, and half an almost-sob, and that's too many halves, but it doesn't matter, because she's never been that great at math anyway. Tarrlok just covers her hand with one of his and averts his eyes. It's moments like this when she remembers just how far they have come, and it hits her, how unbelievable all of it is, how it's almost like a dream, or a story.
She finishes her bread, trying not to think of the fact that this is the last breakfast that they will ever share in this house, and trying not to remember the hundreds that they have had over the past eight months. They were rushed on weekdays, eaten in a hurry while Tarrlok was getting ready for work or she was preparing her supplies for hunting, and leisurely on the weekends, as they read the morning newspaper together and made comments on the articles.
When they have finished, Korra picks up Sitka's lead, twining the soft material around her fingers. She stands in the entry hall, looking around at the bare walls and into the empty rooms, while Tarrlok double-checks everything, just to be safe. The memories crowd her mind and creep downward until feel like they're on the verge of choking her, again, and Korra lifts her fingers, running them along the wall absentmindedly. This small house has been her despised, suffocating prison, and her beloved, comfortable home. It is in these rooms, under this roof, that she has experienced her worst, most desperate moments of sorrow, misery, rage, and depression - and this is also the place where she has formed some of her happiest memories.
But underneath it all - despite the persistent ache in her chest and the stinging in her eyes - Korra takes a deep breath, and looks around one last time, and she knows, ultimately, that she is happy to be leaving. That it is the right decision. This is not where her destiny lies. Sure, by going back to Republic City, she will be walking into danger - but that is exactly where she's supposed to be, after all. She's the Avatar, and her duty calls.
She glances over at Tarrlok, who is also giving the house one last look, through eyes that are reddened and slightly swollen. Korra places a gentle hand on his arm, and he looks down at her, and squeezes her hand, after a moment. She's a little surprised to see that, regardless of his obvious sorrow at leaving the place he had come to see as home and the worry about what the future holds, there still are no real misgivings on his face, not even regret. Just resigned acceptance, faith, and trust.
"I love you," he tells her quietly.
Korra swallows over the lump in her throat as she looks up at him wordlessly, and for the very first time, she truly, whole-heartedly believes him. He would never have agreed to this, to willingly returning to Republic City, if he didn't. While this has been her plan all along, on some level, she had never honestly expected that it would work. It had been her last hope, wild and desperate, grasping at straws. But the fact that Tarrlok is genuinely willing to give it all up to do what is best for her, regardless of the risks, rather than just continuing to try and force her to come around to his point of view...
"I love you too," she replies, lifting his hand to her lips and kissing it lightly.
They turn away from the house at the same time. Sitka follows along on her lead, panting happily, wagging her tail. Korra has been talking to her about this for a while now, but she doesn't think that Sitka actually understands that they are leaving to go to an entirely different place and live there, and are not coming back. She leans down and pets the dog on the head affectionately, in an attempt to distract herself from the knowledge that the three of them are walking through the town for the last time. Sitka's fur is thick and silken, smoother than Naga's, underneath her hand. She imagines Naga meeting Sitka for the first time, leaning down to touch noses with her much, much smaller replica, and smiles. "You're going to love Republic City, girl," she says.
Sitka looks up at her and licks her hand.
Instead of walking to the port city, they catch one of the small passenger boats from the harbor, just as the sun is rising. Sitka doesn't like the boat or the sensation of being on the water, and Tarrlok tries to soothe her, petting her and talking to her softly. Korra stays at the railing as the boat's motor starts up and they speed away from the dock. She watches as the town gets smaller and smaller, until it disappears into the distance, and she doesn't realize how hard she's crying until it's gone.
The journey to the port city is much shorter by boat, and by the time she has composed herself, drying her eyes and washing her face in the boat's tiny, cramped washroom, they are almost ready to disembark. As early as it is, the city's harbor is already bustling with activity. Dock workers and passengers crowd the space, jostling against them as they hurry in twenty different directions, and Tarrlok takes her hand and pulls Sitka close protectively, obviously worried that one of the porters' trunks might slip and fall on top of her. Korra glances around, taking in the sights and sounds - people yelling back and forth to each other in more languages than she can count, vendors selling tea and fried fish and shrimp on skewers - as they make their way down the harbor, and she can't help but think back to her last escape attempt, when she had tried to run away and make it to the city on her own. It just seems so surreal, that after so long, they're really here. Her palms are wet with sweat - she almost expects Tarrlok to turn around and change his mind - but he leads them straight to the merchant ship he had purchased tickets on two weeks ago. A tall, thin Earth Kingdom man stands at the bottom of the gangplank, checking people's tickets, and the three of them fall into line behind a family of six.
At long last, their turn comes. Tarrlok hands the man their tickets, and Korra waits with bated breath as he inspects them closely. He frowns, then, shaking his head and pointing at Sitka. "You can't bring that animal on board."
Korra blinks, taken aback. She can feel sweat beading on her neck and forehead all of a sudden, as she looks down at Sitka - sweet Sitka, standing patiently near her feet - and then back to the man. "What?"
"Nobody told us that," Tarrlok says, smiling in his most ingratiating, politician-type fashion. "I mentioned that we had a dog to the person I bought this from, and they said that animals were able to travel. They had brought their pet with them by ship as well."
The man shrugs, unfazed. "It's a new policy. No animals on board, for safety and liability reasons. No exceptions."
"I think that you can easily make an exception for her. She is very gentle," Tarrlok tries to persuade, spreading his arms placatingly, slipping even more into politician-mode. "She's not aggressive in the least, and she's been given a rabies vaccine. She doesn't even bark. We'll keep her in our cabin and clean up after her, and you don't have to provide us with any extra food. Nobody will even know that she's here."
The man narrows his eyes and shakes his head more firmly this time. "There are no exceptions to our policy, sir."
"But I have a medical condition," Korra says desperately. "A...seizure condition. The dog helps. I can't travel without her."
The ticket collector stares back at her, obviously not believing it. "Do you have any written documentation from your doctor?"
Korra hesitates, her mind racing. "I - uh..."
The ticket collector hands their tickets back to them wordlessly.
Tarrlok turns away, placing a hand on her back. "Very well, then," he replies casually. "We'll find another ship."
The man sighs, raising his voice to make himself heard. "You'll find that all of the other merchant and passenger ships making the journey to the United Republic have the same policy. Another passenger's pet dog mauled a man almost to death a year ago. It was a very nasty business."
Korra shakes her head hard, unable to believe it, unable to even take it in. She bends, stroking Sitka's head over and over again, pressing her hands over the dog's golden ears, as if she can block out the words. "No," she says angrily, and too loudly. A group of people passing by give her curious looks. "You can't do this, you have to let us - she's our dog, we can't just leave her here-"
Her voice wavers, despite her best efforts, and it takes an effort to control the wave of nausea that washes over her. She can feel Sitka's warm, trusting brown eyes on her, and she remembers, with agonizing, visceral clarity, the last time she had given up a beloved pet. She can't do that again. Abandoning Naga had been heartbreaking enough, and she won't do to the same to Sitka, not after taking her in and giving her a home.
"A lot of people have this problem," the ticket collector says, shrugging. "There are a few temples not far from here, and they choose to hand over the animals there, to allow them to serve as temple guardians. Your dog will have food to eat and a safe place to stay. I'm sorry."
Tarrlok looks down at Sitka for a moment. Wordlessly, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick handful of bills, before reaching out and offering them to the collector. "As my wife mentioned earlier, she has a medical condition," is all he says. "And we were not aware that we needed documentation of that fact. I'm sure that you can make an exception for us, considering that the dog has been specially trained."
The man hesitates visibly, before reaching out, slowly, almost unwillingly, and taking the money. He glances down at it, rifling through the bills, and swallows hard, twice. Judging from his reaction, the amount in his hand is more than he could have expected to earn on this trip, and many, many more like it.
When he discreetly pockets the money, Korra lets out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. "Keep the animal in your cabin," he says curtly, at last, before stepping back, allowing them to make their way up the gangplank.
The three of them make their way up to the ship quickly, taking care not to be seen, before heading straight to their cabin and shutting and locking the door behind them. Korra leans against it and sighs, wiping at her forehead. Sitka paces around in a circle in the confined space, her paws clicking against the wooden floors, panting and generally unaware of her close call. Tarrlok kneels in front of her, petting her, trying to get her to relax.
Korra locks the door, crossing over to them. She leans down and kisses Tarrlok on the top of the head, smoothing a stray lock of hair behind his ear affectionately. "Thanks," she says softly.
He gives her a small smile. "She's our girl. I would never leave her behind."
This trip manages to be less stressful and more stressful than the last one all at once. On one hand, she and Tarrlok no longer despise one another, and often stand out on deck together, watching the ocean and skies as they drift past. On the other hand, Sitka vomits often, and the cabin lacks adequate bathroom facilities for a dog, which makes it difficult for all three of them. Strangely, the level of anxiety both of them experience is approximately the same as it was on their journey here. Then, she hadn't known what was awaiting them, and Tarrlok had known that the Republic City Police and the Order of the White Lotus were already searching for them. Now...she has no idea what atrocities are awaiting them in a Republic City that has come dangerously close to falling to Amon, and Tarrlok is returning to a city that has an arrest warrant, if not a death sentence, on his head.
Tarrlok paces the deck outside or the length of the room in a moody silence, his brow knitted in a frown, shoulders tense. Korra kneels besides Sitka, trying to reassure herself by petting her. Sometimes the two of them just curl up in bed next to one another, even in the daytime, hands tangled together, in relatively comfortable silence. He strokes her hair and cradles her face in his hands tenderly, and she rests the palm of her hand on his cheek.
There is no clock in their cabin, but when the sun rises on the second day of their journey, Korra feels an internal clock begin to tick, in conjunction with the pounding of her heart. She leaves Tarrlok in the cabin with Sitka and goes to stand out on the deck. They are in the middle of the sea, and she can't see the coastline yet, but the winds are strong, and she can actually sense the fact that they are near. By nightfall, they will dock in the United Republic, and after another hour by satomobile, they will reach Republic City. This is only the moment that she has been waiting for for the past eight months, and the adrenaline coursing through her arteries and veins is enough to make her feel dizzy.
Korra is jittery for the rest of the day, as Tarrlok grows more and more pale. They don't talk much. She falls asleep for a short time in the evening, drained by the tension and anticipation, and when she wakes again, it's dark. She's alone in the cabin, save for Sitka, who is curled up at her feet, and she closes her eyes and can't hold back the shudder of mingled excitement and unease that wracks her entire body.
She pets Sitka for a few minutes, before sliding out of bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and slipping out of the cabin. The first thing she sees is the glittering coastline of the United Republic, bright in the darkness and so near that she could swim to it, and the breath catches in her throat.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Korra turns, and she sees Tarrlok standing at the railing, a slightly sad smile on his face. The sea breeze has whipped his long hair into a state of disarray, but for once, he doesn't seem to care. She nods silently, walking over to the railing to join him. The metal is cool beneath her fingers, and he touches her hand lightly. "In all these months, I don't think I've ever seen you look as happy as you did just now."
Korra shrugs self-consciously. Awkward. "...It's home." She tangles her fingers with his, looking up at him with some uncertainty. "Are you okay?"
Tarrlok shrugs back with one shoulder, a habit he had unconsciously picked up from her. "I'm as nervous as can be expected." He reaches out, brushing his fingers against her cheek, and she looks away from the shore, back to him. "But I know that I made the right decision."
She smiles a little, touched. "Thank you."
They lapse into silence, and when the captain announces that they are going to be anchoring in ten minutes, Korra closes her eyes briefly. She opens them to find Tarrlok looking up at the moon, and she swallows over her dry throat, a little taken aback by the strength of the emotion that she feels.
Ten minutes. This is it. She remembers the schematic she had once drawn, of a stick-figure rendition of her in her pro-bending uniform, knocking Tarrlok out of Zone Three and into the water. Game over. And Avatar Korra, of the fantastic Fire Ferrets, wins the match.
She had done it. She had gotten herself out of a seemingly impossible predicament entirely on her own, without tapping into the power of the Avatar State, without the help of the Order of the White Lotus or the Republic City police force or anybody. She had listened to Aang's advice, and found a nonviolent solution to her problem. For so long, Tarrlok had been the one in complete and utter control of the situation, with all the power, leaving her physically and emotionally helpless. He had controlled her, with bloodbending and psychologically - trying to systematically break down her will to resist her captivity - with as much ease as someone pulling on the strings of a little puppet.
And for a time, it had worked. She won't deny that. But in the end...
Korra glances down at her hands, at her fingers, intertwined with his. In the end, it was her who had learned to pull the strings, with enough cleverness and subtlety to beat him at his own game. She had found his vulnerabilities and exploited them with as much ruthless skill and precision as he had ever played on her own.
See, that is what I admire about you, Korra. Your willingness to go to extremes to get what you want. It is a quality that we both share.
You and I are nothing alike!
She takes a deep breath, fighting the urge to scoff at the irony, and as she looks up at Tarrlok, she feels nothing but sadness, mingled with a hint of resentment. You turned me into you.
When she remembers the Korra who had existed before all of this, the happy, reckless, brash, naive, thoughtless, innocent girl who had first come to Republic City from the South Pole...that other girl feels like a stranger, compared to who she is now. But then, maybe it was some growing up that I had to do.
Korra reaches out and rests a hand on Tarrlok's shoulder until he looks down at her. On some level, she realizes that there is no longer any need to do this whatsoever. Her strategy had given her the results she desired. The game is over, and she has won. She never has to talk to him or touch him again if she doesn't want to.
She stands on the tips of her toes nevertheless, and presses a soft kiss to his lips. "It's going to be okay," she says. "I promise."
Tarrlok holds her close, resting his chin on the top of her head, and they only break apart at the announcement that they will be anchoring in the United Republic in five minutes' time, so all passengers should prepare to disembark. Korra smiles, and he smiles back, small and tentative, and they return to their cabin to retrieve Sitka and their bags, hand-in-hand.
to be continued
Thank you so much to everybody who left a review for the last chapter. I always really enjoy reading your thoughts. :) This was very much a transitional chapter, and I hope that it didn't disappoint anybody, considering the long wait. As always, if you have any questions, comments, or concerns, my ask box on tumblr is always open. The link is lantur dot tumblr dot com.