A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters, hands down. I loved every moment I spent writing this. I can only hope you enjoy reading it. This is my contribution to the second Linzin week, set in place by superliz. If there are any artists out there who would be willing to illustrate some of the photographs or images in this chapter, I would gladly write a bunch of chapters at their request as a trade. Please read and review. The reviews are what let me know whether my chapters are good or not. If you have any suggestions or criticisms, go for it. Let me know. This chapter is a long one, but I really hope you stick with it till the end. Thank you so much for your continued support! I don't own LOK, but the writing is mine.

Grace

Jinora was often told by her mother that she was her father's daughter, through and through.

Some days, Pema would say it with a smile. The young girl had a sharp mind and a quiet disposition. She was strong; her skill and intelligence set her apart from her peers at an early age. When she was grown, the bright-eyed woman was, in many respects, her father's equal. She was a talented bender, a model mistress of the air. Few could deny Jinora's prowess, for she had grown up between camera flashes, her life captured momentarily, suspended in time, then forgotten (but not for very long).

Jinora never asked for fame; it was handed to her, forced into her hands, tied around her fingers so she could never forget. She did not shy away from it, but Pema had found many shredded newspapers in her daughter's rubbish bin over the years. Not one for confrontation, Jinora let the curious people of Republic City have the details they wanted, offering up bits of her life for distribution as her father and his siblings had done before her.

Pema's eyes were not lenses—focused or unfocused, searching, waiting for an opportunity to…click! They were neither microscopes nor magnifying glasses; her daughter was not a specimen to be examined or an experiment to be carried out.

Pema's eyes were mother's eyes and nothing more.

Three days before her eighteenth birthday, Jinora travels to Republic City. She leaves before the sunrise, slipping off the island and into the sky on her glider. Her stomach flips, and flips again, as she flies over Yue Bay. There is pink creeping into the horizon. Red, too. Dark red, which seeps and soaks the sky at the edge of the world. Jinora thinks the sun will bleed its way into rising this morning and grimaces at the suitability of that thought. Her stomach flips again, and her glider falls a bit as it catches the tail end of a shift in the wind.

All her life, Jinora was seldom afraid. She found strength in the unknown, bravery when naught but her own shadow stood behind her. She had no choice but to be strong when she had her mother and siblings to protect.

There were days when she was younger when she wasn't strong enough, when Amon had almost taken her family from her. Never mind her bending, never mind her life. It was her sister's fear and her brother's sadness that hurt like no pain she had ever felt before. It was her mother's tears and baby Rohan's cries that haunted her nightmares. Most nights she dreamt of her sister shaking beneath Amon's cursed touch, her mother weeping in some godforsaken cell, her brother's innocence taken right before her eyes…

But occasionally, there were nights when she dreamt of her, and she found hope in dreams of sacrifice and loyalty, not loss and fear.

Republic City was quiet at dawn. The city slept soundly while she had lain awake on Air Temple Island, counting the hours, minutes, seconds until she could venture out to see the one person she knew could help her.

It was a hunch, really. There were some things her parents did not understand. She could only hope that the woman she sought would be willing to see her.

Lin rose with the sun. Watching the sunrise was a simple pleasure that she indulged every now and then when she was off work. As she watched, red and orange melted away the black. Just as the sun was lifting up over the tall city buildings, a peculiar sight met her eyes. Had she less experience, she would have called it a bird, but she knew better.

A chuckle rumbled lightly in the back of the metalbender's throat as the girl touched down gracefully a few feet from the steps of her apartment.

Lin nodded to the teenager, who smiled in response. Their visits were few and far between, but Lin enjoyed the girl's company when she had it. With a careless wave of her hand, Lin motioned for Jinora to come in. The airbender folded her glider, her smile slipping just a bit as she did so.

Lin was many things…

"What brings you here, Jinora?"

…subtle was not one of them.

"The wind," came Jinora's smart response, laying her glider in the hall and following Lin to the sitting room. With Lin, Jinora was not afraid to be herself. With her, there was never judgment, only acceptance. And advice, if asked.

Lin smiled. Taking in the girl's disheveled robes and tired eyes, she motioned for her to sit down.

"Must have been one strong wind."

Jinora gratefully sank into the couch, one hand twisting at the knots that had formed in her hair.

"You have no idea."

Lin sat in her usual rocking chair, leaning back so as to get a good look at Jinora.

"You've grown since I last saw you. How long has it been?"

Fingers pausing in the midst of their entanglement, Jinora supplied the answer a bit unwillingly, "Almost a year. Dad took me traveling; we just got back."

"I see. Your father—" Lin began, but was interrupted.

"—did the same when he was my age, with Grandpa Aang. Trust me…I know," Jinora's eyes looked away as she spoke, her hands falling listlessly to her sides. Her hair was hopeless, anyway.

"Actually, I was going to say that your father never much liked travelling. He was always more of a homebody. I take it you're the same?" The question was innocent enough, but Jinora's expression was immediately defensive.

"No. I love travelling. It's just…" Her eyes drifted again, and Lin could see them getting lost in a thought the metalbender was not yet permitted to know.

"Lonely?" Lin supplied. Jinora looked up, surprised, but then immediately closed off her expression once more.

"Not exactly…it's just…all the ruins we saw, the empty temples and homes…" she paused, unable to find the words to express the turmoil that had come to conquer her mind.

Keeping silent, Lin let the girl search for words. When she came up empty, the older woman sighed.

"Sometimes your bending feels like more of a burden than a blessing, doesn't it?" Lin's voice was uncharacteristically soft, her green gaze gentle as it settled on the young airbender.

Jinora's head shot up. "I…I know it's a rare gift. I know I'm one of precious few people left who can carry on an ancient skill…but what if I'm not—what if I wasn't—" she stopped again, lost.

Time passed slowly, the two benders sitting in silence. Finally, Jinora found the courage to say what had been bothering her for years, lodged in the cavity of her chest like a bullet that should have killed her, but didn't.

"Is it wrong to wish I was more like my mother?"

Slowly, Lin stood from her rocking chair. Jinora's eyes followed the metalbender's movements as the older woman came and sat beside her on the couch. Even with her thoughts as murky and painful as they were, Jinora still noticed the elegance with which Lin moved, the calmness, the regality of her steps.

Taking Jinora's hands in her own, Lin waited until she had the girl's complete attention before saying, "There is nothing wrong with wanting something different out of life than what others want for you. Remember that. And if anyone questions your choices, you tell them that this is your life, and you will do with it what you will."

Jinora tried to take her hands back, recoil into herself and tuck back into her own mind, but Lin held firm. "You're scared of becoming a master. You're terrified of what that means, of what it entails, of what will be expected from you once you are one of only two living airbending masters in the world."

The words were coming in a rush now, but Jinora understood each one as clearly as if Lin had branded them on the skin of her palms. Indeed, she felt as though her hands were on fire where Lin's strong grip held them.

"You're afraid that when your father is gone you will have to lead, to carry his legacy on your shoulders alone so that your sister and brothers won't have to. You're worried that you may disappoint, that people will call you weak if you don't measure up to your father. You think that when you receive your tattoos, you will be surrendering any right you have to live your own life, separate from your culture. You're frightened, and that's all right."

One tear, then two, slipped down Jinora's cheek. Drawing her close, Lin repeated, "It's all right."

Neither moved until Jinora finally pulled away, wiping at her eyes discreetly. "How did you know?"

Taking care to give Jinora space and time in which to recompose, Lin stood and walked to the book case against the wall to their left. Fingers flying over the bindings, Lin found the one she wished to show the airbender and removed it. As Lin returned to the couch, Jinora could see that it was a different woman who sat back down beside her. This woman was one trying her hardest to suppress a memory. Which memory, Jinora could only wonder.

"This," Lin lifted the heavy book in her hands, offering it to the girl whose eyes were now dry of tears, "is how I know. I was a child once, too, you know."

Taking the book into her lap, Jinora hesitated to open it. There was no title—the cover was smooth and black, with no writing at all to suggest the nature of its contents.

"Go on."

Gently easing it open, Jinora read on the inside of the cover some year fifty or so years in the past. She recognized the handwriting to be the same found on every birthday card, every letter, and every gift that was ever sent from the South Pole by her grandmother.

"Your Gran-Gran started it for me, since she knew my mother had no use for photos. That one there," Lin pointed to the first photo. It was an old, yellowed thing that looked as though it had been handled frequently over the years, "was our first picture with all of us together."

There, in black and white, was a photograph of a large family. In the center stood Aang, smiling broadly with his left arm around his wife, whose eyes were warm and glowing in that brief instant after the flash had lit them. Aang's other hand was placed on the shoulder of his daughter, who stood before him. Kya's silver hair was weaved into an elaborate braid that fell to her waist while her smile dared the camera to show her as anything but beautiful. In front of Katara stood a younger version of Uncle Bumi, the mischievous glint in his eye immortalized forever by the photograph. Beside Katara on the right of the photo was Sokka, standing proudly and grinning from ear to ear with his arm behind a very disgruntled Toph Bei Fong, who was not looking in the direction of the camera. Cloudy green eyes half-hidden by her bangs, the chief was turned toward Sokka in a look that said plainly that she was not amused by whatever joke or action he had made while the photographer worked. Jinora could also see, however, that there was a slight smile that pulled at the chief's lips—one that she had attempted to hide in a scowl, but failed. The camera had caught it in the space between.

Finally, Jinora's attention moved to the left of the photograph. There, side by side, stood her father and Lin, no more than five or six years old. The softness of Lin's green gaze drew Jinora in, for it was such an unfamiliar look. Lin was standing with her hands clasped in front of her, smiling as though she had a secret. Jinora was drawn in by that smile—that knowing look—wanting to see just what made the young girl so enchanting. Beside her, Tenzin seemed to share Jinora's wonder. He was looking at her from the corner of his eye, smiling a goofy smile of a young boy who knew nothing of the world.

Looking up, Jinora could see that Lin's eyes were fifty years in the past, searching for something she could not find.

Slowly, Jinora turned the page. As she perused the album, which was filled with newspaper clippings, photographs, letters, diary entries, pressed flowers, and all the elements of a long life lived, Jinora could not help but feel as though she was violating the woman's privacy. Though the album was offered to her, it still felt incredibly wrong as she watched Lin grow up before her eyes.

Jinora noticed that almost all of the pictures were taken on Air Temple Island, and nearly all of them were of Tenzin and Lin together, building sand castles, climbing trees, making snow spirits, drinking hot chocolate that left matching moustaches on their grinning faces…The more Jinora saw, the more uneasy she felt. She knew this was the childhood her father never admitted to having. She knew all of this must have ended one day, and was afraid to see the pictures change.

And change they did.

As the two benders became teens, the pictures were fewer in number. There were a couple diary entries that had been, presumably, torn out of a separate book and pasted among the pictures. Jinora read of Lin's loves and fears. At thirteen, the writing became deeply introspective.

There were pages describing the day she almost drowned in Yue Bay, with pictures of the broken gliders that had washed up on shore days later. Lin expressed her gratitude to Tenzin for having saved her, but also her fear that she may have been the cause of his death, had he drowned as well. She vowed to never let Tenzin save her again.

At fourteen, the pictures revealed a boy with legs too long for his body and a girl with long, messy brown hair and wild green eyes. At that point, Kya disappeared from the pictures altogether. Throughout the years there had been pictures here and there that, had any outsider seen them, would have easily shown that the two were sisters. Though there was a great difference in their ages, they seemed to get along very well.

The day before Kya left for the South Pole, there was a picture of the two with their arms around each other. Kya, now a woman, was just as beautiful as she had always been, with a smile that could melt any boy's heart. Lin's smile was a bit forced, her eyes well aware that this was a goodbye. Looking at the two girls, Jinora thought of what it would be like to leave Ikki and live in some Air Temple on the other side of the world.

She wouldn't dream of it.

At the fifteenth year of Lin's life, Jinora found what she had been dreading. There were no diary entries. No photographs. Just a headline, "Chief Bei Fong Laid to Rest." A single news article, which briefly mentioned the kidnap and murder of Toph Bei Fong and Lin's role as a victim in it all. Having never been told the story, Jinora felt sick as she read the article half-way through and stopped. She didn't want to read anymore.

"It's so sad," she said, finding her voice. It cracked a bit as she added, "You were there…?"

Lin's eyes were dark. "Yes, but that's not what I wanted you to take away. Keep going. Your father comes up again shortly, and then you will see…" Lin's voice trailed off, and she shifted a bit on the couch. "I want you to know that you are not alone. Keep going."

Jinora would have preferred to stop. The next few pictures she came across were of Lin moving in to Air Temple Island, eyes empty, expression lost. Kya had come back for the funeral, and stayed for about a year at home afterwards. The series of pictures that followed were all of Lin, Tenzin, and Bumi back together again, yet none of them held quite the same joyful carelessness of youth.

Finally, Jinora came to what she supposed Lin wanted her to see. It was a diary entry, written in a quick but steady script. It spoke of Tenzin's preparations to leave on a year-long trip to see the ancient Air Temples. At sixteen, Lin did not want her only friend to go. Bumi and Kya had at that point returned to their lives far away. There would be no one but Katara home to keep Lin company, and the sense of impending loss was so acute Jinora could feel it across all the years between the diary entries and the present.

Then came a letter. This one was written by her father. Looking up, Jinora saw Lin nod in affirmation. "That's the one," she said. "He sent that to me while he was traveling. If you read it, I think you'll find that your father shared many of your fears before becoming a master."

Jinora's eyes fell on the date, some forty years earlier. Warily, she began to read.

Dear Lin,

By the time this reaches you, I will be flying somewhere between the Southern and Eastern Air Temples. Visiting my father's old home was enlightening; I know exactly why he left—there were no women! (insert one of Bumi's crude jokes here). But in all seriousness, it was definitely a worthwhile trip. It made my father happy, at least, and lately that is easier said than done.

How are you, Lin? Your letters are few and far between. I haven't seen you in so long, I'm afraid you may have forgotten me. Has my mother driven you insane yet? Are you doing well in the police academy? Scratch that last question. You could be an officer now, for all I know. Spirits know you metalbend better than all of those teachers put together.

To answer the questions in your last letter, I am doing well. My father and I are getting along fine and we have covered a lot of ground in these past few months. It's just that…I don't know if I want to do this anymore. I don't know if I can handle being a master. All this history, all these customs…I don't know if I can live by the standards of my father's people. As much as my father says I am ready to bear the tattoos of a master, I think what he really wants is to get rid of his loneliness. Seeing him in his childhood home showed me as much.

I will be tattooed at the Western Air Temple at the end of our journey. I asked if that meant my tattoos would be upside down, and Dad laughed.

Don't tell anyone, but I'm afraid. The fate of my father's people rests entirely on my shoulders. What if I'm not strong enough? What if my father doesn't like the man I become? You told me once that I was more than just my father's shadow. But what if I'm not? What if I would rather live a normal life, without all of these traditions and customs? I never wanted to be like the acolytes. Is it wrong that I want to do something more with my life?

I never told you this, but I don't really want to live on Air Temple Island. I want to be in Republic City, leading the people who have lost their way. Ever since your mom died, Lin, the city's people have been looking for someone to believe in. They believe in my father, but he's always travelling, always trying to patch up the world. He's the avatar. That's his job. He's never in the city long enough to see that it's falling away from the dream he had for it.

I want to change that. But can I, if I have to carry on my father's legacy? If I have to settle down and have children and lead the acolytes to some distant future when people will understand our way of life?

I've always wondered why we had to live on an island, isolated from the rest of the world. It's because the rest of the world doesn't understand how people can be happy getting rid of earthly attachment. They don't understand why we focus so much on our spirits, and not on our lives on this earth. And to be honest, I'm only just beginning to understand myself.

I have to go. My father is starting to wonder what exactly I'm writing to you. He thinks I'm some love-struck teenager with his head in the clouds. Pretty soon he'll be announcing our wedding day, I swear it. I keep telling him we're not like that, but he doesn't believe me. He says he knows love when he sees it.

Anyway, I miss you. Please write back soon. Being away this long has made me realize that I have so much I want to tell you that I can't put into words.

Yours truly,

Tenzin

Lin waited for Jinora to be done reading the letter before she took the album and shut it gently. Silently, she stood and returned the book to the shelf.

"He must have really trusted you, to say all that in a letter," Jinora remarked, lost in thought. Lin was right; her father had not always been the man he was today, resolute and firm in his ways as the head of Air Temple Island.

"We kept very little from one another, in those days," Lin admitted, sitting back down beside the young girl, suddenly weary. Once again, Lin's eyes were lost in a memory. "We were young, and we were very much in love."

Jinora did not deny it. "I suppose he came home with his tattoos and became the man his father expected him to be?"

Lin's laughter caught Jinora off guard. "Oh, he came back alright. Tall, tattooed, and ready to live the life he wanted. For a long while he threatened to move away from Air Temple Island and live with me in Republic City. Eventually he did just that. But first he did try to live as his father wanted, on Air Temple Island, leading the acolytes through daily meditation and services in the temple. In those days, he resented it all. He was young and rebellious, in his own quiet, serious sort of way."

Jinora smiled, leaning back to rest her head on the couch. "I wonder what changed. Why did he move back to Air Temple Island when he wanted to live in Republic City?"

The laughter that lingered in Lin's eyes faded, and Jinora suddenly wished she could retract the question. "You don't have to ans—"

"Avatar Aang died. After that, Tenzin knew it was time to put the wellbeing of the Airbending race before all else. His father had been urging him to get married and have children for years. Tenzin knew it was his duty to do so. He married your mother, then you came along. And here we are! You're all grown up!" Lin's tone was sincere; there was no remorse, no anger, no resentment. This was how things were meant to be. She had accepted them long ago.

Just then, the grandfather clock struck twelve. The tolls brought Jinora back to the present. They had been talking since sunrise. It was now midday, and her mother would be wondering where she was. Unlike her father, who had received his tattoos while traveling, Jinora was to have hers done on Air Temple Island, among family and friends.

"Lin?" Jinora's voice felt unearthly as it followed in the wake of the tolling bells. The metalbender's full attention was given to her.

"Would you…would you come to the ceremony? I…I would love it if you were there when I get my tattoos. It's in three days."

There was a pause. Lin stood, and Jinora followed. Placing her hands on Jinora's shoulders, Lin nodded. "I would love to come. It will be an honor, Master Jinora."

They both smiled at the honorific.

As the two made their way to the door, Jinora thanked the older woman for her counsel.

"Anytime. Give your parents my regards."

"I will," said Jinora, stepping out of Lin's apartment, glider in hand.

As the girl took to the wind, Lin lingered on the steps.

Good kid, Lin thought. Just like her father.

Pema's eyes were mother's eyes, and they never missed a single detail. When Jinora touched back down on Air Temple Island, Pema was there to see the change that had taken place.

Jinora apologized for being gone so long without telling anyone. Pema waved away her apologies, and told her to go clean herself up. Her hair, in particular, was a tangled mess. Fingers self-consciously tugging at the strands of hair she had forgotten to fix, Jinora put away her glider and went to her room to get a brush.

Jinora was often told by her mother that she was her father's daughter, through and through

But some days, Pema would see another person entirely when she looked upon her daughter.

There was strength in the girl's stare, pride in her spine, and courage in her heart. She had a strong and wild spirit, a need to help those who could not help themselves. She could be as sweet as she was disobedient, tough as she was gentle.

Pema did not always see Tenzin when she looked upon her daughter, and maybe…

Maybe that was, among other things, a certain green-eyed woman's saving grace.