Discliamer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or The Legend of Korra, but boy, do I ever admire them.
A/N: Just a head's up, this is an AU where everything up to episode five happened, but there is no Amon or Equalist revolution, and Bolin never caught Korra and Mako kissing, but the pair decided it was better to stay friends. The fic goes into a bit of detail and should be easy to follow, but I just wanted readers to be prepared.
Enjoy!
Insomnia
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Honey why you calling me so late
Mako roamed the hallways, shuffling in and out of the shadows, a wraith in his own penthouse. The air was thick and moist, leaving the firebender feeling as if he were walking through a perpetual sauna, lost in the steamy haze, seeking relief from the cloistering dampness. It was well past midnight, and the evening had done nothing to tame the humidity. Mako supposed that was simply the nature of Fire Nation weather, always so tropical. It made him yearn for the cold, unfeeling concrete streets of Republic City. At least if he were there, even if he couldn't sleep, he'd be in familiar surroundings.
He hadn't slept a wink since arriving at the Fire Nation Capital five days ago. He never slept well when he travelled. He never slept well when he was at home, either. He had gone to doctors, therapists, and specialists over the years, but none of them had been able to cure him of his insomnia. They said he was too restless, too stressed, too anxious, too tense.
Mako blamed the eyes.
He could feel them following him, tracing the lines of his back, his neck, making his hair stand on end and his spine stiffen. But the moment he turned to confront them, they were gone, vanished in the blackness, becoming vapour on the air. They were still there, though, hiding, taunting him, calling to him, blaming him.
Blue eyes.
They'd kept him awake again that night. He had tried to ignore them, tried to sleep, tossing and turning in his large, luxurious bed for a few hours, but rest and dreams eluded the firebender.
They always did.
Walking through the shadows had become a well practised habit of Mako's. He blended in with the darkness as if he were a shade haunting his own home, existing in the space between the silence.
RING!
The sound of the phone ringing shattered the quiet, jolting Mako from his lonely promenade. He was in the study, the plush, crimson dyed carpet muffling the hurried beat of his suede slippers as he walked towards the ornate walnut desk and reached for the ebony handled telephone. He didn't want the whole house to wake just because some thoughtless degenerate had picked a vulgar time to dial a wrong number.
"Hello."
The crackle of static, and soft, hesitant breathing, but no voice.
"Hello?" he said again.
"...Mako?"
The firebender gasped silently, nearly dropping the receiver.
That voice.
He knew that voice. He had carried it with him for ages, a sweet echo that had been tormenting the shell of his ear for ten years. It was just as he remembered it, too, breathy, feminine, and soothingly low like the gentle swell of the surf as it stuck the sands of the shore.
"Is that you, Mako? Are you there?"
He almost hung up, almost banished that voice from his memory, almost buried it back in the past where it belonged. Where it should have stayed.
But he couldn't help himself. He never could. Not when it came to her.
"Yes, it's me. I'm here. How are you, Korra?"
I gotta whisper 'cause I can't be too loud
"I'm...I'm just fine."
She sounded pale. Lost.
"That's good."
And you? I heard you got here about a week ago? Have you been having a nice visit?"
"Yes."
It was a lie.
"That's good. I'm glad. You like your penthouse? I had it reserved for you myself when I heard you were coming."
"I see."
So that was why he'd felt the eyes so prominently in this place. Korra had been here, had walked down the same halls he so aimlessly travelled, had probably used this same phone to confirm the reservation, perhaps even jumped on the bed he couldn't sleep in. There was too much of her spirit lingering behind.
"Korra, is everything alright?"
"Of course it is! I just...well, I didn't see you at the banquet tonight. Were you there?"
"I was there. You seemed to be busy talking with the Earth Queen and those politicians from the Northern Water Tribe. I didn't want to intrude."
"Well, you should have. I wouldn't have minded being rescued from those old lion-sharks."
"I didn't think the Avatar would need me to rescue her."
Silence. A long, breathless, hurt-filled silence.
"I didn't mean it like that."
A sigh, a mere quiver, almost a sob.
"Why are you whispering?"
"I don't want to wake the others," Mako answered softly. "It's past midnight."
"Oh. Sorry. I hadn't realized."
Another sigh, a half started word, a click of a tongue.
"Korra, what do you want?"
"I..." she groaned heavily into the receiver and Mako could picture her slouching her shoulders, her bravado and false courtesy slipping off her body like a silk scarf. "I just...I wanted to hear...I..."
"You've never been shy before, Korra," he teased kindly. "Don't start now."
She took his bait, no doubt pouting at his words even as she released a sobbing chuckle.
"I want to see you. I want to see you right now!"
He closed his eyes, his forehead creasing. It wasn't an unreasonable request, even if it was made at half past midnight. The ungodly hour made the situation all the more Korra. The girl had no good sense of timing, never had, not for as long as he'd known her. Still, meeting a woman, the Avatar no less, in the middle of the night, even for an innocent chat, wasn't a good idea.
"I don't think we shou—"
"Please."
She sounded desperate, pleading, almost panicked, and that was all the argument the firebender needed.
"There's a tea shop in the central plaza, The Jasmine Dragon. It's open all night."
He was wide awake anyway. It'd be nice to spend the lonely hours of late night/early morning with someone other than his tormenting thoughts. It would be nice to see his friend again.
"I'll be there in half an hour."
A dial tone. She'd hung up.
It startled Mako how easily he gave into her, but it didn't surprise him. When it came to Korra, his common sense tended to drain out of his ears. Hanging up the phone, the firebender blended into the shadows once more, stealing through his penthouse like a thief, and quietly slipped out the back door to meet with his old friend.
It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
He got to the tea house before Korra. He asked to be seated in a well lit, but back corner, booth and ordered a pot of oolong, Korra's favourite. She was running late, but with Korra that wasn't anything new. He remembered her repeated tardiness to team practice. The girl never was on time for anything. He drummed his fingers on the table, amazed that, after all this time, Korra still put him on edge, still made him a wreck.
That was her magic.
"Hello, Mako."
Her voice was clear, carrying.
She'd snuck up on him, just as she always had.
He smiled as Korra sat in the booth, taking in the familiar curves of her trim, but adorably short, body. She still favoured the blues of her motherland, clothed from head to toe in a dark sapphire silk. The colour was lush, rich against her cocoa skin, the dainty ivory flowers embroidered down the sides a surprising, but perfect touch of femininity. She wore her hair the same, although it had grown some since they'd last met.
"You haven't changed," he complimented sincerely.
She blushed and laughed.
"You haven't either. Well, except for this." She motioned to his temples where he knew silver hairs had begun to weave through his ebony tresses.
"Premature greying," he explained ruefully, running a hand through his hair. "I was told it can happen due to stress."
"And I imagine that being Vice President of Future Industries is to blame for this stress," she said good-naturedly.
"You'd be right."
"And are those bags under your eyes from work stress, too?"
He felt cornered then, panic twitching like a frightened animal in the pit of his stomach for a paralysing moment before he swallowed dryly and found an answer.
"I don't sleep well."
That was too honest.
"I mean when I travel. You know, different bed, different place...I don't sleep well."
"I know what you mean," she replied, her voice sounding ageless, carrying the promise of the thousand exotic lands she'd travelled during her adventures.
They smiled at one another, the dim lighting making them feel as if they were staring at one another across the years, looking back at the boy and girl they used to be instead of the man and woman they'd become.
"Hey," Korra started, eager, anxious. "Remember when we saved Bolin from the Triple Threats?"
Mako's eyes glowed.
"That was the night I first met Naga."
"You mean the night we kicked some criminal butt!" Korra corrected sassily, even winking at him, still flirting after so many years. It made Mako wish for things he hadn't thought about in a long time. "I think that was the first time we managed to get along for more than three minutes."
It was a lame joke, but a truthful one all the same. They had bickered terribly in those early days, pressing buttons, pushing limits, seeing how far they could go before the other snapped. They'd liked seeing the passion in each others' eyes, whether it was fuelled by attraction or frustration didn't matter.
"When we had to split up, you gave me your scarf, said it was to hide my face," Korra continued. "How come you're not wearing it now? I don't think I've ever seen you without it."
"I don't wear it anymore."
He didn't tell her why. He didn't tell her that he'd stopped wearing his most treasured possession the day she...
Their tea arrived, the waiter politely interrupting them to place the tray between them. Korra thanked the quiet young man and offered to pour the hot, sweet liquid, remembering to add a cube of sugar to his tea.
He remembered she took hers straight.
"Should we make a toast?" he asked.
"Over tea?" she giggled.
"Sure. To...to meeting each other again. To old friends."
Korra played along, tapping her cup against Mako's, smiling as she blew over her tea and took a far too dainty sip. It was a completely un-Korra like behaviour, far more suiting to a lady.
And then Mako remembered, and his joviality withered away like empty corn husks.
"I also suppose that I should congratulate you."
He saw the alarm slash across her face, the silent, desperate plea for him to not speak one word more, to continue playing pretend in their secluded booth that kept the rest of the world away. But he couldn't hold back reality.
Not even the Avatar could do that.
"Congratulations, Korra. I'm very happy for you and Iroh and I wish you both a long and lovely marriage."
Does he know you're talking to me
"You don't mean that."
He didn't deny it. He drank his tea, suppressing a shudder as the scalding, fragrant liquid burned his tongue. A thick, nearly palpable silence filled the space between them, separating the pair even further than than the many oceans, continents, and misunderstandings that had gotten in the way before.
"I didn't think you'd come," Korra started. "To the wedding. Tonight."
"I was invited to the wedding of the Avatar and the heir to the Fire Nation throne. It's the most spectacular, must-see event of the year. A royal wedding. They call it a fairy tale in the papers."
"You're making fun of me."
He was.
"It just doesn't feel like you," Mako confessed, shrugging nonchalantly. "Over nine hundred guests, a three day ceremony, four dresses, a wedding party of two dozen, twelve course meal and reception at the palace, then a year long world tour. Are you going to pop into the Avatar State and do some parlour tricks, too?"
He didn't dodge the flames she tossed at him. He deserved it. He let her fire burn him, his left ear crying out in agony as it felt the sting of the flame, definitely pinking, possibly blistering if he didn't put ice on it later. The pain was actually a relief. It took his mind off the ache in his chest.
"None of this is my idea, or Iroh's," Korra hissed, her blue eyes charged with white lightning as she stared at him from across the booth. "We wanted to elope. We were going to get married on one of the United Forces ships, but his grandfather, and his mother, insisted that we have this...party."
He nodded. He understood the pressure that others could force upon a young, starry-eyed couple, especially family.
Another silence converged on the two, and Korra gulped back the rest of her tea in a flushed attempt to keep herself busy. She was always so jittery, like a a baby colt, shaky and uncoordinated, teetering on wobbly legs as it takes its first, unsure steps.
"And you're one to talk."
He deserved that. He was being a hypocrite, he knew that. And a bastard, too, for making his friend – Korra – look so hurt. He didn't know how to tell her he was sorry, had never quite mastered the art of the apology, especially when it came to her.
He poured her another cup of tea.
She accepted it.
"You'd like Iroh," she said, almost too softly for him to hear. He didn't like the way she said the prince's name. It sounded too hollow. Not like the way she should say the name of her fiance. Not like the way she said his name.
"Does he know where you are?"
Korra seemed surprised, almost like she had forgotten something. Then a solemn mask seemed to hide her face, and she stared listlessly into her cup of tea.
"He'll understand."
"Does he know you're with me?"
She stayed silent, and that was his answer. Shaking his head, Mako drank the last of his tea, staring at the woman in front of him.
"Why did you ask me here, Korra? Why now? Why after so long?
"Do you remember the last time we met?"
It wasn't the explanation he'd wanted. In fact, the question caught him completely off guard, just like everything else about Korra managed to throw him for a loop, but he did remember.
It was nearly five years ago on a warm day in spring, when the cherry blossoms fell to the ground like fragile pink snowflakes. They were in Republic City Park on the arched bridge that crossed the pond Korra once fished in, the air fragrant with the perfume of fresh flowers, and the sound of laughter carrying like music rustling through the tress.
Oh yes, Mako remembered that day with astute clarity.
After all, it had been his wedding day.
No I don't think she has a clue
"You didn't have Naga with you," he commented nostalgically.
"Much as I like to make an entrance, marching through the middle of a wedding party astride a polar bear-dog is a bit much, even for me," Korra quipped.
"I still saw you, though. A crowd of four hundred people, all of Republic City's cream of the crop, and I still found you."
"Funny, huh?"
Neither laughed.
"I...I was surprised. I hadn't expected to see you."
"And why would you? It's not like you'd invited me."
He heard the steely, undisguised accusation in her tone. He also heard the bitterness and dull anger. It made his own resentment surface.
"We hadn't seen each other for five years, Korra, not since after we'd won the tournament. You never called, you never wrote –"
"I did!"
"Bolin. Not me. You never wanted to speak to me, not since..."
He stared into the swirling depths of his tea, crushed by the barge of memories that assaulted him with unforgiving force. Memories he thought he had buried long ago.
A bright eyed, almost frighteningly intense girl cornering him in the player's box, declaring her profound affection for him with all the tactless grace of a hippo-rhino.
The taste of saltwater as an eager, passionate kiss in the darkness made his body feel like it might be consumed by his own fire.
The confused, heartbreaking dizziness that tormented him as he'd walked away from that beautiful besotted girl, begging for time to think, time to reflect, time to understand.
The absolute explosion of joy that nearly burst through his chest as confetti rained down on his head, Tahno and the Wolf Bats cursing at the referees while Shiro announced with tongue-twisting flare that the Fire Ferrets had won the thirty-first pro-bending championship.
The feeling of accomplishment, of pride, as he took the trophy into his hands and raised it over his head with youthful exuberance, and the roaring cheers of the crowd that made him feel like the most powerful man in the world...
...and how her laughter, booming, zealous, happy, reached him even over the deafening din of the stadium. How her eyes found his, smiling at him in shades of blue and green, her feelings so clear it was as if he could touch them.
That's when he knew.
They were meant for each other.
He'd wanted to tell her, wanted to steal her away from the lights, the cameras, the screams, the streamers. Wanted to hold her tight, and stroke her hair, and whisper love-struck nonsense against her ear before stealing his own kiss from her distracting, pouting lips.
But then...
"You left," he said, dull, cool, broken. "You didn't even say goodbye."
"I didn't think I had a reason to stay. Did I?"
He wanted to lie. He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to change the past. He wanted to stop the future.
"Why are you here, Korra? Why did you want to see me?"
"Do you remember the day you married Asami? When the two of you looked out into the crowd of witnesses when the minister asked if there were any who objected?"
Mako could feel his stomach churning.
"You found me in a crowd of four hundred people," she echoed. "I wasn't even trying to get you to see me, but you did. You looked into my eyes and I looked right back."
He remembered. She had been unflinching that day, her turquoise eyes so big and sad, aged with drops of accusation, betrayal, and loss. Even as he held Asami's hand, barely hearing the buzzing drone of the minister as he completed the final blessings, Mako had been transfixed, held completely captive by Korra's stare. He remembered that his heart had clenched painfully, and a longing to reach out for her had cloaked him, nearly impossible to ignore.
But then Asami had squeezed his hand.
Reality, sanity, returned to him.
He married Asami that day, vowed to be a loyal and good husband as they exchanged rings, kissed her softly as they were showered with cherry blossoms. When he'd looked up, Korra was gone.
"Did you feel it?" Korra asked.
He wanted to deny her. He wanted to tell Korra that her feelings were all in her head, the delusions of a rejected teenager that should be blown away like loose sand over a barren and unforgiving desert, but he couldn't.
Because he had felt it.
It was the same thing he'd felt the night he met her, the night they rode on Naga and saved Bolin, the night she said she liked him, the night they kissed, the night they won the championship tournament. It was something he had never felt for Asami, his own wife.
A connection. An inexplicable, unexplainable, unwarranted, connection. A pull so strong it was like being knotted in cable and dragged over cosmic distances. A spark that was more integral to his being than even the constant burn of his inner fire. Something primal, wild, a dragon he didn't know soared freely within his soul.
Soaring towards an unknown homeland.
Soaring towards Korra.
"I felt it," he admitted, guilt polluting his admission as he shied away from Korra's intense gaze. "Why are you asking –"
"I had to know" she said. "I had to know if I would still feel it, even after all this time."
"And?"
He hated himself for asking. Hated himself for hoping.
Her eyes were a kaleidoscope, shining, shimmering, reaching, asking him to catch her.
"I do," she whispered. "I still do."
Hearing those words it makes me weak
"I meant what I said. I think we were meant for each other."
"Korra," Mako sighed, shifting in the booth, wishing he knew what to say.
"Tell me you believe it, too."
The way she demanded his feelings made the firebender furious. How dare she! This Avatar, this woman, this Korra, had no right to demand his heart when she had so thoroughly destroyed it long ago. Until this moment he had been a content man, husband to a kind wife, brother to an upstanding police officer, apprentice to a generous father-in-law. Perhaps he wasn't passionate about his work, perhaps he wasn't sleeping well, perhaps he wasn't happy, but he had been something.
Seeing his reflection in Korra's eyes, Mako felt like nothing.
And all because he'd let her walk out of his life.
It made him cringe, made him helpless, made him lash out at the only person who could heal his wounds.
"I love Asami," Mako insisted, hissing his words through grit teeth.
"Answer me," Korra pressed.
"She's my wife!" the firebender bellowed, striking the table with his fist. "She's three months pregnant, Korra! She's going to be the mother of my child. I love her."
"But you love me, too."
She was unfazed by his lashing out, arms crossed and expression almost patient.
"No, I don't," he spat.
"Still a liar, I see.
Infuriating, as always.
"Don't you love Iroh?"
He thought that would be what brought Korra back to reality, would make her see the blasphemy of her demands on his heart.
"Not the same why that I love you."
He stopped breathing.
Love, not loved. Present, not past.
She was still in love with him.
The truth of it hung plainly in her eyes like the stars in the sky. It was devastatingly beautiful.
And because he couldn't help himself, because he promised that this would be the only time, Mako reached out for Korra and cradled her face in his hand. She leaned into his touch like a cat-owl, nuzzling her soft skin against his palm, finding peace there. He let the warmth of her skin seep into his hand, tickling the sensitive tips of his fingers, his thumb trailing over her cheekbone with a devastating intimacy.
Almost like being kissed.
"I love Asami," he said, the last defence he had against the iron will of this amazing woman who, a long time ago, had turned his safe, controlled, tiny little world completely upside down.
'But I love you more.'
He didn't say the words. He couldn't say them when he was eighteen, and he couldn't say them now. But his eyes held the truth, and in their tormented honeyed depths, Korra found her answers. She looked deeply into his soul and found the corner that was just hers, a ruin of the walls he'd built that she had so masterfully crumbled. Mako returned her searching stare, discovering his own niche as he drowned in the eyes that had been haunting him every night for far too long.
Now she knew. Now he knew.
It was time to say goodbye.
And, yes, I've dreamt of you, too
Mako paid the bill. Korra left a tip.
They shuffled out of the booth and walked towards the exit side by side, Mako playing the gentlemen and holding the door open for Korra as they left the tea house. They stood outside for endless minutes, the stillness suspending them.
"So, I'll see you later? At the wedding?"
"I'll be there."
He was lying.
She knew it. He knew it.
And yet she nodded at him, allowing him the dignity of his charade and gifting him with one last smile, a smile that, under the yellow streetlight, made her look seventeen again, capturing her exactly as she'd been that night she'd kissed him outside the arena so long ago.
For one heartbeat, Mako thought she'd kiss him again.
He knew if she did, he'd kiss her back.
"It was good to see you again," she said.
Honest. Bold. Unpredictable.
The same as always.
"Yeah, it was."
And then Korra walked away.
He watched as she strolled down the deserted street, her hair trailing behind her like smoke, her footsteps becoming further and further away, swallowed up by the city. He watched her walk away from him, back to the palace, back to her prince, back to the firebender that wasn't him. He watched her walk away and didn't take chase, didn't even call out.
He wasn't meant to follow her.
They were meant for each other, but they weren't meant to be together.
Mako wouldn't attend Korra's wedding.
That day, he would feign sickness due to his insomnia and beg his father-in-law and wife to go to the celebration without him, sending his apologizes to the royal couple. And when the penthouse was quiet and he was left with nothing but his memories, Mako would tuck himself under the blankets of his bed and close his eyes.
He would sleep the first truly peaceful sleep he had known in ten years.
And as Mako slept, he would dream of a life he could have had, a life so different from the one he knew. A life free of the whirring buzz of steel saws, the putrid stench of oil, the pounding, hypnotizing clang!clang! of tools against metal. A life where fresh air played against his skin, and a clear, smogless sky touched the horizon like an ocean above his head, and a great, bulky, barking beast of white licked his cheek. A life where he was no longer chained to business meetings, and negotiations, and dinner parties, and schedules. A life filled with excitement, upheaval, spontaneity, insanity, and passion.
A life where he was no longer haunted by blue eyes, because when he woke, it would be to those eyes staring at him, shining blindly with love.
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'Well, my girl's in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on'
– Lips of an Angel by Hinder
And now I've made myself sad.
Not gonna lie, I usually don't do angst, and if I do, my canon couple still end up together after many trials and tribulations. This was the first time I've ever written something so tragic. It was also a bit of a departure from my normal writing style: heavier on the dialogue, a bit more abstract, prose a bit more poetic and emotional than usual.
So, this ficlet was very much inspired by Hinder's Lips of an Angel, if the MANY references and quotes hadn't already tipped you off. One day I was listening to the song and this fic idea just came to me; a 'what-if' Korra and Mako are meant for each other but they never end up together. What then? And that is the genises of this story. And I must confess, if I don't sound too pretentious, but I'm really proud of this one. It's a departure from my normal style and, in some ways, the polar opposite of what I like to write. I like my favourite couples to end up together, but this time I wanted to look at what would happen if they didn't. How would they move on? How would they change? And if given a second chance, would they take it? Korra and Mako aren't just stubborn people, they're also honorable. Both have a great amount of integrity, which is why they go back to their respective partners in the end of this fic rather than run away together. What they needed was closure, and that is why Mako is finally able to sleep at the end. He faced a ghost from his past, finally acknowledged his feelings, and he let them go.
I really hope that you liked this fic. If it gave you feels then I know I've done something right. I promise, tomorrow's fic is a bit cheerier.
Please, if you're feeling so inclined, leave a question, comment, or review. I'd love to hear from you!
Keep calm and Korra on.