The young woman looked out first towards Air Temple Island, the ferry which would take its passengers across waiting patiently in the docks. She fidgeted, though she tried her best not to. Eventually, she thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket and willed them to remain there. They itched to disobey her, wanting to rise up to the scarlet fabric wrapped carefully around her neck, a single tail trailing down towards her chest. But, with great effort, she let it alone.
"Are you certain you don't want me to take you there?" the man standing at her side asked.
The young woman shook her head. "I'll be fine. I want to walk."
"It's a fair distance."
"I know."
The man nodded. "Then we will go and inform the Councilman of your return."
"Good. And ask him not to raise a fuss about this," the young woman said quietly, "at least not for tonight."
"Of course," the man replied. He turned to her then, and she glanced across to see that he regarded her meaningfully. "I wish you the best of luck," he told her.
She tried to smile. "Thank you, Takka."
They parted ways, and now the young woman turned her eyes to the city. It had been so long, almost three years, and yet the sense of familiarity she experienced was strong. And welcome. She settled into the smells and sights and sounds of the streets she walked, tucking her chin towards her chest and pointing her eyes low. She was not worried about being recognised as much as trying her best to quell the chaos of her thoughts. She was a simple Water Tribe woman out for an evening stroll tonight, nothing more.
Her feet knew the way they should walk, so the young woman let them lead her. With each step came the realisation that she was getting closer. She grew more nervous at the thought, nervous and uncertain of her courage. Could she do this? Could she really do this? After all this time, after almost three years…could she stand in front of him? But there was no other choice, was there? She bit into her lower lip as she considered one.
She could always turn back, take the ferry over to Air Temple Island instead and try this tomorrow, when her heart was not thudding at her breast and her stomach churning unpleasantly. Her skin was prickly with nerves beneath her jacket and she could not reach the itch to tame it. But she chastised herself. She had to do this now, tonight. She would not run away from it.
A hand emerged from her pocket clutching a small box in its grasp. As fellow pedestrians passed her by, oblivious to all but their own lives and concerns, the young woman flipped open the tab of the box and shook out a cigarette. She brought it to her lips and obscured her mouth with her hands, lighting the cigarette carefully.
It was getting dark, but the streets were still busy enough for someone to potentially spot her creating her own flame. No one knew she had returned to the city, and the only person she wanted to know that tonight was him. He would know she had smoked, she knew. He wouldn't like it. But she needed it, to calm her jangling nerves. She did not know how she would be able to face him otherwise.
It did soothe her, somewhat. Or at least granted her the illusion that she had become a little calmer. Either way, she would not complain. The young woman pulled gently on the cigarette as she walked, briefly holding the smoke in her mouth before releasing it into the air. Yes, he would definitely know that she had smoked. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. No going back now, though.
She came to a stop, standing across the road from his apartment building. The young woman looked up; his apartment was on the fourth floor. His apartment. She had always called it that, but somewhere at the back of her mind a small voice would supply 'their apartment'. That's the way it had been, surely, from the moment he gave her a set of keys for the place. He said it in everything but words. It was their apartment, their home. But now she did not know if that was still true.
The young woman ground out her cigarette before crossing over the road and heading for the building. She steeled herself as she pushed through the doors. With each step, she seemed to picture him more clearly. She did not see him smiling. All she could see was the man that had stood over her in her unconsciousness, watching her in silence.
Her legs were heavy when she reached the fourth floor, her feet becoming leaden weights. Her hands left her pockets without her realisation. She clutched them together in front of her, fidgeting. She passed one door and then another. Closer and closer, nearer and nearer, until she finally stood in front of his.
She had dreamed of this moment, over and again, reciting the words she would say and sculpting his reaction to each and every one of them. The young woman nodded to herself. She knew what she was going to say to him. She gathered her courage, all of it, drawing it from the deepest depths of her being and begging her beating heart to grow calm. And then, the young woman lifted her left hand and knocked on the door.
Mako set his briefcase down at his feet, lifting a hand to briefly rub at the ache forming in his neck. He pushed his key into the lock of his front door and turned it, after hearing that telling click retrieving his briefcase and pushing the door open. His keys and shoes returned to their customary resting place once he pushed the door shut at his back. He shrugged out of his coat, tossing it across the back of his couch. He set his briefcase down beside it.
Once more rubbing his neck and tilting his head until he heard a satisfactory crack, Mako stepped into the kitchenette. He pulled open the door of his fridge and gripped the cool glass of a beer bottle in his hands. Pushing that door closed, Mako turned around and rummaged through a drawer to find the bottle opener. The cap of the bottle rattled as it hit the counter. Mako pulled long and hard when he brought the beer to his mouth. He released a heavy sigh as he lowered it again, first of contentment and then weariness. It had been a long day and he had not gotten many hours of sleep the previous night.
He lay restless beneath his sheets, the Equalist appearing behind his eyelids whenever he lowered them. Vestiges of adrenaline pumped through his system, keeping him alert despite his desiring sleep. The masked woman's voice played through his mind time and again. He studied the mechanical rasp of her voice in vain, trying to puzzle out its true nature. His attention more often than not turned to the exact words she had spoken, remembering the hints of a sharp and bitter tone that slipped into her voice when she spoke of the Avatar. He lay awake, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom as he considered them.
Lack of sleep had made its mark upon him throughout the day. He felt lethargic, the hours dragging themselves along one after the other. At one point, he closed his eyes for a minute or two and was shaken awake several later, forehead resting on his hands beside his typewriter.
Mako lifted the beer bottle to his mouth again and determined for himself somewhat of an early night. He had some paperwork to get done, but he figured he would worry about that later.
Moving out of the kitchenette with the sole intention of flopping down on the couch, Mako paused when he heard a series of knocks upon his front door. He stopped in the middle of the room, lifting his eyes to the ceiling with a small shake of his head and a quiet curse. He was not in the mood to entertain company, no matter how brief. He stood unmoving as his prospective visitor bid for his invitation once more.
Knock knock.
Knock knock.
Mako eventually stepped towards the door. He had no idea who was on the other side of it or what they wanted, but he was fully intent on letting them know that he was less than accommodating at the moment. He was tired and right now wanted nothing more than peace and quiet. With bottle still in hand, Mako reached out for the handle and the upper latch and pulled the door open.
His arms went boneless when he saw who was standing there. He knew her in an instant, from the oceanic blue of her eyes and the way her thick, dark hair fell to frame her face to the way her lips slanted when she tried to smile at him. And as though to assure him that this was no illusion, the red of his scarf was looped around her neck.
"Korra."
Her smile was fleeting, and faded quickly. His face had grown blank, his arms slack at his sides as he stood in the doorway. A beer bottle was mere moments from slipping from his grasp. Korra looked back up to meet his eyes, his gaze pinned unblinkingly upon her. She tried to speak, but no words came and she closed her mouth, glancing away. Silence enveloped them as they stood on either side of the threshold to his apartment. Korra fidgeted with her hands as she took a deep breath. She looked up at Mako and asked a question she had never needed to.
"Can…can I come in?"
She tried to affect a light tone, but her voice shivered when she spoke. Mako stared at her for a long moment, as though she had not spoken. As though he could not believe that she had spoken. He stood aside eventually, not saying a word for himself. Korra tried to smile again, but she hesitated underneath his gaze. She felt the weight of the tension in the air as she stepped forwards.
Korra almost paused when she put her foot across the threshold. She inhaled – this was home – and habit turned her eyes aside to look at the trio of hooks upon the wall beside the door. She faltered when she saw the place where she had once hung her set of keys empty.
She heard the door quietly pushed shut at her back as she moved further into the apartment. Her eyes turned from corner to corner – yes, everything was just the way it was. The telephone sitting on the small table next to the couch; the way Mako threw his coat over its back after a long, hard day; the kitchenette across the room, small and tidily kept. Korra knew this place in an instant. It was as though she had never left.
But she had.
She had been gone for so long and now, suddenly, she stood in front of him. Mako watched her back as she slowly looked around the room. He was barely aware of stretching out his arm and depositing his beer bottle onto the table beside the telephone. The hammer blow of shock had erased all his thoughts and his tongue refused to move.
He had dreamed of a moment such as this, where Korra came back to him. He had known there what he would say to her. But his lips were pressed tightly together now, sealing his words away. He had witnessed himself time after time drawing her into his embrace and holding her so tightly against him. But his arms would not move. He was still and silent at her back, watching. Waiting.
At last, she turned to face him. Her hands were curled into each other and held in front of her. Korra fidgeted as she glanced up to meet his eyes and then away. Something kept his eyelids from falling as he watched her, as though to blink would shatter this precious illusion. She met his gaze then and held it. Korra made a strange gesture, her shoulders rising half-heartedly as her hands broke apart. Her eyes were shining as she spoke.
"I'm back," she told him, in a bright and cherry tone. But the pitch of her voice was high. The corners of her lips turned down mere moments after she began smiling.
Mako said nothing in reply. He just watched her, staring as her face and shoulders fell, locked in place. His limbs refused to comply with his will, and his mind was blank anyway. He was not entirely sure if he was still breathing. Korra blinked and turned her gaze down, away from his. He watched her lift her hands to her neck after a few moments. She carefully unwound his scarf, lifting her hair as she freed it completely and held it in her hands.
"I got it, when you sent it," Korra said then, her hands moving to fold the scarf in half once and then again. She looked up at him, her thumbs caressing the fabric. Her eyes were so blue, and so desperate. "I wore it, every day that I could."
He took it from her with his left hand. He looked down at it, but didn't say anything. He couldn't. His throat refused to be unstuck.
"Mako…"
He could hear in her voice such urgency, asking something of him. Anything. But he could not answer to it, to her. He looked up to meet her gaze and no words came to unseal his lips. She turned her eyes away then, her breath seeming to hitch. Her shoulders were squared as Korra suddenly moved, stepping past him. Her voice was a pained whisper.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'll go now."
And that was when he moved. His hand snatched through the air, grasping her upper arm as she walked around him. He gripped her hard, hard enough to draw a gasp from her lips. Mako turned and pulled her around to face him.
"Don't you dare walk away again."
Korra looked up at him, meeting the hard amber gaze fixed so intensely upon her. Her breath was caught in her throat, her voice failing her. He was holding onto her like a dream he refused to let fade away. In the next moment, he had thrown his scarf down to the ground and her face was between his hands. And then his mouth was upon hers.
What breath she had left, he stole it. There was nothing else but him. Every last extraneous detail of her world fell apart, peeled away and crumbling to less than dust. All that mattered was this, here, now. Mako. She was at the mercy of his kiss, hard and desperate. It grounded her so completely, sweeping away her tumultuous thoughts. She had felt so lost, so confused, but he anchored her again.
Her heart swelled in her chest when he at last released her. Korra suddenly felt so much lighter, so much more alive. She looked up into Mako's eyes when he drew away, seeing so many emotions flit across his face in the space of a heartbeat. But the one that shone brightest was the one she felt so powerfully herself; a sense of joy, pure and giddy.
"I missed you," she told him. "Mako, I missed you."
He answered with another kiss. She flung her arms around his neck and drew him to her. That joyous warmth filled every inch of her, blossoming outwards from the pulse of life at her chest. He kissed her again and again, each touch of his lips swift and sweeter than the last.
"I'm sorry," Korra whispered when they drew apart, the words tumbling from her mouth. "I'm sorry," she said again, shaking her head. She didn't feel like she could say it enough, but it was all she could say. She did not know what pain she had caused him, but she saw a mere fraction of it in the shimmer of his eyes. And she was sorry, so sorry.
"You're here now, Korra," Mako silenced her, his voice and kiss fierce. "You're here."
"I'm here," she agreed, pressed against his chest in his embrace. "I'm here."
It was impossible to be this close to him, to be so wrapped up in him after so long spent apart, to not ache for him. Korra felt that desire awaken now, laid low by the wracking of her nerves and the cold chill of doubt that spread through her. Then, it had patiently made room for the sheer sense of joy that needed to fill her. But now it called to be suffused, and Korra ached so deeply she felt weak. She felt desperate, like a woman starved for food and panting for water. But she needed no such sustenance. She needed Mako. She needed him. For so long she had dreamt of him. She learned how to deceive herself, conjuring him into her fantasies just so that she could remember what it was to feel him. To be driven crazy by him. But she needed to pretend and dream no longer.
Because now he was here.
Korra saw the heat sparked to life in Mako's eyes when she looked up at him. He felt it too. He wanted - needed her just as desperately. They kissed again, but it was different this time. It was slow and gentle, stoking simmering flames of a long starved passion. Korra tasted him and was intoxicated. In an instant, she was addicted again. An insatiable craving crept up from the depths of her being, crawling up her spine and making her flesh itch. It was an itch only Mako could satisfy.
"Get me out of these clothes," she said.
The words came to her so easily. She felt the desire and she acted on it. Korra wanted to be naked before him, pressed beneath him. She needed Mako to take her, with such passion and fury as only he could. There was a beast locked inside him. He told her once that he was afraid of it, but she wasn't. Korra recognised and understood that part of him. It was possessive, demanding and bold, and nothing could thrill her as much as the man held in its grip.
He had her pressed against the wall in seconds. She gasped when he pushed her hard into it. Clothes were shed – literally torn away in some cases. Korra needed to feel the warmth of his skin and the firm muscle of his chest, so she ripped his shirt open. Buttons skittered to the floor and her vest soon followed them. She moaned into his mouth when a hand fell upon her breast.
"Hurry up," he growled as she fumbled with his belt, his arms to either side of her head caging her in. "Now."
She rushed to obey, heart pounding in her throat. He stepped out of his trousers, kicking them to the side as she took him in hand. The ache between her thighs was insistent and Korra begged him.
"Please," she said, when he pinned her wrist against the wall and teased her with his arousal. She was burning up, impatient and desperate. She hated how much she loved to be teased. It made her breath ragged, her skin hot and prickly. It made her beg, shamelessly, and Mako was the only one who could draw that voice from her. He knew just how far to push until her sanity could take no more.
She cried out when Mako decided that he had had enough. He lifted her leg and she curved it around him. He was swift and sudden as he surged into her. Pleasure thrummed up through Korra's stomach and pulsed along the curve of her spine. She opened eyes squeezed shut to meet his. The smouldering heat of his golden gaze left her lips dry and throat tight. He wasn't moving and she was so very aware of it. His lips curved as she panted and glanced down. He asked her a question she remembered from long ago.
"Slow?" he husked.
Korra lifted her arms and looped them around Mako's neck, pulling him close until he was resting against her brow.
"I will kill you if you play with me," she told him.
He kissed her, his mouth ravenous. "Slow wasn't really an option anyway."
The alternative left her in desperate need for air. Korra clung to him for all she was worth as he pushed her up against the wall and drove himself into her.
Something was building up inside of her, refusing to be restrained or tempered. It was powerful, exhilarating and dangerous. And it was overwhelming her. She did not have the strength or presence of mind to keep it in check. Korra gave a sharp cry, clenching her teeth afterwards and screwing her eyes tightly shut. Mako was pressed against her, stimulating every one of her senses in a way that she could never have emulated for herself.
The weight of his body, his flesh hot and slick with sweat; the sound of his voice, raw and animalistic as he grunted; his heady, masculine scent that she drank in with every breath, and the sweet, addictive taste of his mouth. And the way he moved against her, the feeling of his body, of his skin sliding along hers. Being away from him for so long only intensified each and every sensation, each and every movement. And she could not bear it. She felt every one of his thrusts like never before. When Korra threw out an arm to brace herself against the wall, she knew she was in trouble.
She could feel it.
"Mako," she gasped. "Mako, I'm going to tear your apartment in half!"
She wasn't joking. Korra was very much serious. Mako, apparently, did not care.
She felt so hot, so heavy, and at the same time her head felt lighter than a cloud. Korra tilted back her face to the ceiling, chest heaving as she panted. Mako swept low and brought his mouth to the pulse of life at her throat. His pace was relentless, plunging her over the edge. She gripped his hair between her fingers and cried out in wanton delight. At the same time, her eyes were pulled open, and they glowed with ethereal light.
Mako looked up at the sound of rumbling.
He was drifting on the edge of wakefulness, dimly aware of the orientation of his body and the warmth of morning sunlight. The pillow was soft beneath his head, his hands pushed underneath it. Some part of him, his internal alarm clock, was prodding insistently at his consciousness. It was time to get up, but he didn't want to. He felt warm and comfortable, lazy as a pleasant ache buzzed through his limbs. So he lay still, burrowing down towards the vista of his dreams.
Mako felt the bed sink beneath him, its springs murmuring. Something settled around and over him, a familiar weight. He felt it lean forwards, and then the momentary contact of fingertips upon his skin. The sheet that was drawn up over his back was carefully pulled away, exposing him to the cool air. He sensed pause being given, then the lingering sensation of being watched. He remained unmoved however, breathing slowly. He was not worried.
The weight around him leaned forward and then down this time, accompanied by the whisper of a different kind of movement. Mako couldn't quite place it, but a moment later he felt something soft brush against his skin. Hair, he thought. And after that, he felt lips. They gently kissed the small of his back, lingering after that first touch before moving away. And then he felt them again, a little to the left of that first spot.
Soft breath whispered against his skin in the wake of every kiss, each touch of those lips slow and pleasant. Their progress was thorough, determined it seemed to leave no inch of him wanting. Gentle hands soon rose to explore him, fingers lightly tracing curving lines upon him. He felt her thighs against the side of his body as her lips reached halfway up his back. Mako couldn't help stirring, though he tried to lie still. Her kiss and the playful touch of her fingertips felt good, and her hair brushing along his skin tickled him. He heard her chuckle low in her throat above him. She was enjoying this, and so was he.
Korra kissed all the way up to the back of his neck, shuffling forwards as she left his skin tingling with the sensation of her lips. Her weight felt good too, the pleasant warmth of her body making him feel even lazier. He was smiling now. It was impossible not to. Korra leaned over him, her lips brushing against his ear.
"You awake, baby?" she asked softly.
Mako opened his eyes, blinking against the last vestiges of sleep and the golden light filtering through the window. Her question was a simple enough one to answer; he was awake. At least he thought he was. He hoped he was.
"I'm not sure," he answered quietly. He kept his eyes on the window, not daring to look at her. He wanted to, but he was afraid. This was all too familiar.
The woman above him, in the corner of his vision, moved a hand to his brow and began stroking his hair. "What's wrong?"
"I might still be dreaming," Mako replied. "I've had this dream before, where I wake up and you're with me again. It's a good dream, too good. Everything is right again, the way it should be. But then I really wake up and I'm alone."
He closed his eyes with a soft sigh. "Am I still dreaming, Korra? Are you really here?"
"Look at me," she told him, her voice so soft. "Look at me, Mako."
He didn't move at first. He was afraid, afraid that this dream, which had been more intense and seemed so much more real than any other, was just that; a dream. He could even remember tasting smoke upon her breath. That was new. But it could always have been just another trick of his imagination, his mind sifting through the catalogue of Korra's habits in order to fool him more completely. He did not know what he would do if he woke again to find himself cold and alone. It would be too much to bear this time.
She seemed so real. Everything seemed so real.
He turned eventually, because there was no other choice. He shifted beneath her, turning his body and coming face to face with her. Korra neither vanished nor melted away. She leaned over him, her hair a curtain against the sunlight. Her eyes were so blue. He never grew tired of falling into them. They did not waver or blink as she watched him. And then, as she brought her lips down upon his, they slowly fell shut. Mako experienced a jolt of fear, that this would be the cruel moment after which he opened his own eyes and found himself truly awake. But when Korra eventually lifted her head, she remained.
She was still there.
Korra was a warm and very real presence, here with him at long last.
Just to make sure, to do something to stop the sudden welling up of moisture that threatened to swallow his gaze, Mako reached up and drew her down to him again.
"You didn't believe me," she teased him with a soft murmur, leaning into his touch at her cheek.
"You don't know how much I've missed you, Korra," he replied, looking into her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I love you, Mako. I do."
He nodded, unable for the moment to speak. Words were choked away by emotion, the pulse of sheer joy that ran though him rendering his tongue thick. Then he glanced down and took note of what she had on. A sense of amusement and pleasant surprise managed to part his lips.
"You're wearing my shirt."
"I'm not wearing much else."
That made him smile.
"I think it looks better on you," he said. "Much better."
That made her smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
"You should take a look at the walls," Korra said then. "I…I think that will prove my being here." She looked away, awkward and – he didn't dare believe it – embarrassed. Mako lifted a curious eyebrow.
She moved to his side, allowing him to adjust his posture and sit up. Mako then, as instructed, turned his eyes to the walls. He sat very still and silent, observing the jagged lines that had etched themselves into being. The thickest of them ran right over his head, wending its way past the corner of the room and along the wall to his right, supporting a dozen thinner lines along its length that branched off into even smaller cracks themselves. And it looked like this little network did not end with his room alone.
"Well, that wasn't there yesterday," he remarked lightly, turning to face Korra. She was sitting beside him with her knees drawn up to her chest, heat rising to her cheeks. Mako started to smile.
"Might I ask how this happened?" he said, knowing the answer full well.
"Um…" Korra simply pointed at her eyes. And Mako began to laugh. He laughed harder when she shoved him and told him to stop.
"Alright, alright," he said, lifting his hands in surrender. He brushed a tear from his eye. "I guess you did give me fair warning."
"Yes, I did," she replied. She shifted her body and lay down beside him, resting her head against his stomach. "You told me you didn't care."
Mako lifted a hand to play with locks of her hair. "I didn't. And besides, do you know how many points I'll score when this story gets around the office?"
"Ha ha. I'll make sure you don't have an apartment to live in at all if you tell a soul what happened."
Mako chuckled, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Do you remember the first time -?"
"I almost ripped apart the men's dormitory, Mako. Of course I remember. Tenzin almost threw his oaths to the wind and flayed you alive."
"That was a good day," he mused, smiling when she hummed as if to say 'oh really' in response. "What does it feel like for you?" he asked her.
Korra frowned slightly as she considered his question. "It's as though I'm coming apart at the seams," she said. "The first time… that was our first time together. I wanted you so badly. All I knew was that I wanted you, and I had to have you right then and there, consequences and Tenzin's rules be damned. Everything, the way it felt, the sensations, they were new to me. Well, perhaps not new, but different. It was powerful and intense, everything I thought it would be and then so much more. And I think the important thing was that I was sharing that moment with you. You were the one making me feel that way, Mako."
"So pleasure is your weakness," he teased.
"Ha. No. Otherwise we would probably have to practice abstinence. Who knows what I might do to you in the throes of passion one day," Korra said. "No, it's more than just pleasure. It's…it's just you, baby. I love you so much. I don't know how you do it, but you make me feel like I want to break, to just give you everything that I am and lose myself in you."
"So last night," he prompted.
She chuckled softly and shook her head. "I can't quite put words to that one yet. There were so many emotions running through me, Mako. It was just…I was finally with you again. I could touch and feel you right there against me after dreaming of you for so long. I couldn't keep myself together. It was like a flood. I couldn't resist it. It felt so good, so strong and intense. I...this'll sound odd, but even though I could feel myself falling apart, I felt so complete."
"For me, it felt like I was on fire," Mako said, resting the back of his head against the wall. "Like my skin was actually burning up. There was this pull on something inside me, like a restraint was being torn away. I've never experienced it like that before."
"Careful," Korra replied, grinning up at him. "Burning down your apartment is a lot harder to fix."
"Says you who almost ripped it apart," Mako returned.
"Well, lucky for everyone involved that you were there to stop me. That would've made for an uncomfortable headline otherwise."
"Hey, I would be the talk of the town if that happened."
"Not if I buried you first."
Mako laughed and Korra smiled crookedly in response.
"So, will you tell me where you've been?" he asked her then, once his laughter had faded.
She gave pause for a moment. "I've spent the last two years in Ba Sing Se, working as a police officer."
That lifted his eyebrow again. "Oh really."
Korra looked up at him. "You don't believe me."
"I do," he told her. "I'm just surprised. Very surprised."
Korra sat up at Mako's words, shifting her body once again and manoeuvring herself so that she straddled him. His hands rose naturally to her hips as she settled into his lap. He looked up at her with a small smirk as she placed her hands against the wall to either side of his head, looming over him.
"You don't believe me," she said again.
Mako gave a small shrug. "It's difficult to imagine."
Korra arched her brow, smiling slightly. "And why's that?"
He glanced away from her then and she followed his eyes. They fell briefly upon his desk.
"Alright," he said, looking up at her with a mischievous light to his eyes, "I'll show you something."
She lowered her arms and shuffled back a little, giving him room to lean over to the desk. Stretching, he reached forwards and grasped the handle of one of the drawers. Korra watched him rummage around blindly until he appeared to settle on what he wanted. His hand emerged with an old pair of handcuffs clutched in its grip. "Huh," she said, all this time completely unaware of their existence.
"You know how these work?" Mako said to her as he settled back against the wall, holding the cuffs up for her inspection. He was smiling more widely now.
"Of course I do," she replied, trying to read the curve of his mouth and figure out what he was thinking. She found out a few moments later.
"Put your hands together."
Korra paused. Mako didn't even try to hide his grin now.
"You aren't serious," she laughed.
"A good officer obeys her superiors."
"I don't think it works like that, Detective."
"What kind of officer were you?" Mako asked.
"Patrol."
He merely flipped the cuffs open. "Hands."
She huffed in response, turning her palms up to face the ceiling and loosely curling her fingers inwards. "I hope you have the key for these in that drawer."
"I haven't seen it in a while, truth be told," he replied, and Korra narrowed her eyes at him as she held out her hands.
Mako made an elaborate show of binding her wrists together, fingertips slowly brushing against her skin. She playfully pulled her lip between her teeth as heat simmered in his eyes. The click of the cuffs as he locked them in place was satisfying in the silence that hung between them. Afterwards, when her hands were bound, Korra lifted them up and over Mako's head. She settled herself comfortably into his lap.
"So, Detective, what will you do with me now?"
He began by lowering his eyes and hands to the buttons of her – or rather his – shirt.
"Officer Korra," he said, testing the name. "It has an interesting ring to it."
"Serra," she corrected him, as he popped open the lowermost button of the shirt.
"Serra?"
"I didn't use my real name while I lived there. I didn't want any attention or to be recognised. I wanted to be just your average citizen."
Mako nodded. "So, Serra?"
"I put together my mother's name and my own," she explained.
He frowned. "Your mother's name…"
"My mother's name is Senna, Mako."
"I know. I knew that. It's been a while, you know? All I needed was a hint."
"Right," Korra said tonelessly.
"Speaking of names," Mako continued, lightly tracing his thumbs back and forth along the curve of her hips, "I've come up with a special one for you."
"What's wrong with the one I already have?"
"It's too long," Mako said mildly.
"It's two syllables. Kor-ra."
"Too long."
"I forgot how lazy you can be sometimes," she said with a smirk.
"Don't you want to know the one I came up with?"
Korra couldn't resist rolling her eyes. "By all means, do tell."
"Kay."
Silence stretched between them.
"Do you like it?"
"Try it," she replied after a moment.
Mako's eyes latched onto hers, his gaze tender.
"I love you, Kay," he said gently, "more than anything else in this world."
Korra leaned down and kissed him, slowly, fondly, and with a pulse of warmth that spread through her body, reaching to her very extremities. She wanted to be nowhere else but here. She wanted to know nothing else but him.
"It'll have to do," she told him with a small smile. And then she brought her hands around his head.
Mako stared long and hard at the opened pair of handcuffs, certain that he had locked them. He looked up and Korra was smiling that wonderful, mischievous smile of hers. He loved it. He had missed it so much. Just like that, she went and flipped the script.
"You didn't break them, did you?"
She shook her head, still smiling. "Nope."
He glanced down at the cuffs again. There was only one other possibility.
"You learned how to metalbend."
"Yep."
Mako felt the surge of pride rising up to fill his chest. "That's my girl," he said softly.
Korra's grin was cocky as she spun the cuffs around a finger. As he watched her, Mako was reminded why he had fallen so hard for this woman in the first place. She was unpredictable. He had become so accustomed to the rigid schedule of his life, to never making a move without thoroughly thinking it through first. She was spontaneous, daring, introducing chaos to his carefully maintained order and pulling him along for the subsequent ride, laughing all the way.
For the first time in a long time, Mako felt like himself again. It was funny how easily she did that to him, how she drew him from the depths of himself. She made him smile and made him laugh; she made him feel bold and impulsive. She taught him how to act on that impulse, to toss forethought aside and simply act. Right now, that impulse had him feeling a tightening of his groin.
The shirt had long since been laid open by his hands. Mako's eyes rose and fell with blatant deliberateness, taking in all of her. Korra looked delicious in it, giving him that knowing grin as he traced the path of every last curve with a hungry gaze. And he knew she could feel how much he liked what he saw.
"Kay."
"Hmm?" she said, affecting an innocent tone.
"Put those down."
Korra stretched out her arm, briefly holding the cuffs in the air over the open drawer. Before she dropped them, she directed a sidelong glance at him. The playful curve of her lips tightened the grip of his hands at her waist.
"As you say, Detective."
The late afternoon was melting into the evening as Korra stepped out of the bedroom, wearing dark sweatpants that were too long for her. The legs were rolled halfway up her shins, and the pit-pat of her bare feet was soft upon the floor. She neglected her own vest for Mako's shirt, leaving the uppermost pair of buttons undone.
A delicious smell met her nostrils as she moved into the living room, her eyes turning towards the kitchenette. Her stomach complained appropriately, as she had not eaten a thing for almost two days. Her appetite had fallen victim to her anxiety on the first, and today…well, the reason for that was upon whom her eyes now fell. He was also the reason she was positively ravenous at present.
The spatula in Mako's hand paused when she came up behind him, bringing her arms around his waist. She stood on the tips of her toes and peeked over his shoulder.
"That looks good," Korra said, looking down into the pan. "Can I have some?"
"Only if you've contributed towards making it," Mako replied, "which you haven't."
"Hmm." She pinched the fabric of his vest between her fingers, beginning to slowly tease it upwards. "I can start contributing now, if you like."
"Not in the kitchen," he said sternly, slapping her hand.
Korra laughed. "I'm starving, Mako. It's all your fault, too. Besides, you've got more than enough in there."
"You know how much I hate sharing," he replied, stirring the noodles and vegetables around the pan as he turned his head.
"I don't actually," she said, reaching up to meet his lips. "Bowls are in the same place, right?"
"I don't remember moving them," Mako answered as she moved to his side and crouched down in front of the cupboard.
Korra bumped her hip into his as she pulled the door open. "A simple 'yes' will do, smartass."
"I wouldn't recommend harassing the chef, Kay. Unless you plan on going hungry tonight."
She straightened, two bowls clutched in hand as she pushed the cupboard door shut with her leg. Mako responded to her pouting with a raised eyebrow, looking thoroughly unconcerned. He leaned down and accepted her kiss however.
"I'm sorry, baby. It won't happen again."
Mako snorted at the expression of pure innocence she showed him. "I wouldn't bet money on it."
Korra set down the bowls, watching as he served up a few moments later. Taking two forks from the appropriate drawer, she handed him one as he passed her a bowl of noodles. The aroma wafting lazily up from it enticed her all over again, and she couldn't help but pass the bowl underneath her nose, inhaling deeply.
"Wow. Smells good, chef."
"Not all of us share your lack of culinary skills," Mako said with a smirk, walking around her.
"Hey," Korra replied with a tone of affront, "I spent two years living by myself. I learned how to cook."
Mako turned on the radio as he left the kitchenette, filling the room with soft, melodic jazz notes. "Sure," he said.
Korra followed him over to the couch. "I'm serious."
"Well, we can test that theory one day," Mako said, leaning against its armrest as he sat down. "I'll buy new pots and pans in advance."
"You're a terrible person," Korra said plainly, settling down beside him. She sat with her back resting against his body, her legs propped up on the opposite armrest. She gave a lengthy hum as she tucked into the food, eyes falling shut as its wholesome flavour tingled across her tongue. "Looks like you haven't lost your touch," she told him, noodles looped around her fork.
"I'm glad you think so," Mako replied. "I hope you remember how to wash up."
Korra's fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Wait, what?"
"I cooked."
"Are you serious? I just got back!"
"I'm feeding you, letting you stay in my apartment, and you're walking around in my clothes."
"I remember you saying they looked better on me anyway."
Mako glanced down at her. With the way she was sitting and the fact that the top two buttons of the shirt were undone…
"Be that as it may, it's not like I'm asking you to do a lot."
"Ugh."
"And speaking of my apartment," Mako continued, "you really did a number on the place."
Korra immediately felt heat rising to her cheeks at his words. She was facing towards the front door, from her position able to see the point where the many cracks running along the wall originated from. She could distinguish the marks her fingernails had gouged into it too.
"Um, sorry about that," Korra said timidly. "Though…it was kind of your fault."
She could practically hear his eyes roll. "Right. I'll just add that to my list, shall I?"
"By all means."
Mako chuckled quietly. "Can you fix it?" he asked.
"I can give it a look," Korra said after a moment's thought. "Something like this isn't my area of expertise though, and I'd rather not pull down your whole building."
"Hmm. I'd rather you didn't too. Maybe we should leave it the way it is, as a memento."
Korra turned her head to look around at him. "A memento."
She felt Mako shrug. "Sure. Why not?"
"And what happens when someone comes around to visit?"
"Well, then I have this really interesting story to tell…"
"You know what? I think I can fix it."
"That's great news, Kay."
"Whatever," she huffed, swinging her legs around and planting her feet on the floor. "Finished?"
Mako glanced down as she indicated his bowl. "Yeah. Getting right to it?" he continued when she took it from him and stood up.
"Yes, I am. Not another word," she cut across him when he opened his mouth. Mako closed it again and gave a small half-smile. Korra walked around the couch, heading back towards the kitchenette. He turned his head and watched her go, until her form was obscured behind the wall. His smile began to fade when he turned his eyes down again.
Mako moved his thumb back and forth along the surface of the armrest. He could feel it stirring in his gut, this cold and unpleasant sensation that emerged halfway through the day as he lay with Korra in his arms. And now, as he sat on the couch, he could not help but remember that night. He closed his eyes and grimaced against the memory that sprang up before him. The edges were hazy thanks to his then inebriated state, but he could see it clearly enough. And it remained there, even when he willed it away.
He had been unfaithful. He had been impatient. He had been weak.
But had he really?
Korra was his whole life; from the first day that he had met her, she rewrote everything about it. But then she left him. She left and took a piece of him with her, tearing it straight from his chest. The wound bled for days and months and years. It was raw, stinging with every touch and every breath. It was such pain that he had never known, and in the end one he could no longer bear. She had hurt him. He hurt so much and only she could heal him. He saw that now. Asami had opened his eyes to that truth.
"Let's say we try this again, Mako, and Korra shows up at your door tomorrow. What then? What would you do?"
He would take her back, that's what he would do. That was what he had done, because truthfully it was never a question at all. And now they were both pretending that nothing had happened. They were both pretending nothing had changed.
Korra left him. She walked right out of his life. But here he was, letting her walk right back in. Why did she have it so easy after what she had done to him, after what she had put him through? Why should he be the one battling with guilt when she had cut the throat of their relationship? He clung to that thought, to all of them. Angrily, he pushed his guilt away, to the side and out of sight. He was not going to pretend anymore.
"Mako?"
He looked up, turning his head. Korra was standing beside him, drying her hands with a tea towel. He hadn't heard her approach him.
"Are you alright?" she asked, seeing tightness in his expression. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he replied. "I'm fine. I was just thinking."
Korra sat down on the arm of the couch, draping the tea towel over her shoulder. "What about? You don't seem too happy all of a sudden."
He did not answer her right away. She moved her arm and curved it around his shoulders, but Mako leaned forward away from her. Korra bit into her lip as she watched him. His hands were clasped together between his legs, his form hunched and shoulders tense.
"Mako, what's wrong?" she tried.
"When are you going to tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
He slowly stood to his feet and turned to face her, arms folded and jaw tight. Oh no, she thought.
"You realise how long you've been gone, don't you? It's been almost three years, Korra. There are so many rumours flying around as to why you left, but no one seems to know the actual truth. So I'm wondering when you're going to tell me. Or do I still not deserve to know."
"Mako," she said carefully, swallowing before she spoke again. "I…it doesn't matter now."
He stared at her incredulously for a long moment. "It doesn't matter? I would love for you to go and tell that to Bolin."
His voice was fierce and she was confused.
"Bolin? What's happened to him?"
"What's happened? For all intents and purposes, you put him in hospital."
Korra found her feet at the look on Mako's face. His eyes were hard as he glared at her, burning with an altogether different heat. She dropped the tea towel onto the armrest and approached him, but he moved away, walking around the couch. Her hand paused, lifted halfway into the air.
"Mako, I don't understand," she said earnestly, seeing the agitation in his movements. He turned sharply at her words, anger written into his features.
"Do you remember when you told me you planned on giving Zolt his bending, and I pleaded with you not to? Do you remember when you as good as told me you'd done it?" he demanded. "I told you nothing good would come of it. I told you what he would do. But you didn't listen to me. You never listen to me, Korra. You always do what you damn well please and shut me out afterwards, and then your answer to everything is that you're the bloody Avatar –"
"Mako, please," she begged, standing in front of him now. Her voice was choked and so was his. He pressed his eyes tightly shut when she lifted her hands to his face, a single drop of moisture escaping them. "I'm sorry, for the things I know I've done and for the things I don't. I'm so sorry."
He clenched his teeth, turning his face away from her hands. "How can you just apologise and think…"
Mako stepped away from her, shaking his head. Her heart was heavy with pain as her arms fell away. It hurt to be pushed away like this, and Korra knew that she no right to complain. So often had she stood where he did now. She couldn't reach out to the man she loved, and it was as though a leaden weight was pushing against her chest from all sides. She had expected this, deep down in her heart. She had prepared for it. And from the very moment that she stepped into his apartment, Korra hoped and prayed that she would not have to face it.
"Mako," she said softly, as he turned around and gave her his back, "please tell me what happened to Bolin."
"The Triple Threats happened," he answered tonelessly.
"Is…is he alright?" she asked when Mako said no more. He rounded on her no sooner had she spoken. She almost winced at the sharpness of his voice.
"He's in hospital with a broken arm and leg. You tell me if he's alright, Korra."
"I…" she looked away, searching for courage upon the air she breathed.
"So that's it then," he said, "you have nothing to say. After what you did, after you just walked away and left me, you're going to stand there now and expect me to accept that. I'm supposed to pretend that the last three years didn't happen for your convenience."
Korra lifted her eyes to his, taking a steadying breath. She had promised herself that she would hide nothing from him, no matter what it might cost her.
"No. I'll tell you, Mako, everything," she said. "You deserve to know."
And then, tentatively taking his hands, Korra led him back over to the couch.
A/N: The vision for this reunion has been playing over and again in my head for the last three or so months. It's been as much of a difficult wait for me as it has for you guys. So, was it worth it?
It's almost difficult to believe that I've actually reached this far with the story. As these things tend to do, it has evolved and expanded beyond my original batch of ideas. Thank you all for experiencing that ride along with me. As always, your thoughts and feedback are very much welcome. I'd love to know how you feel about the story, its characters and events.
Lastly, now that I've come to this point, I'm going to be taking a break from this story for a while. While I have everything planned out, there's still a lot of details that need fine tuning, and honestly my mind is refusing to connect the dots right now. But at least I didn't leave you all hanging on the previous chapter, right?
Till next time!