Published March 6, 2016
"In My Life"
To come to a doubt, and to a debatement of any religious duty, is the voice of God in our conscience: Would you know the truth? Doubt, and then you will inquire. ~ John Donne
When Korra wakes up, there is an extra blanket on top of her. Noatak must have come home late, found her asleep, and thought she was cold. She stays in bed for a little while, remembering the previous day's events, gathering her strength and wits before going out where she might see him. She has practiced pretending to be normal and innocent around friends and strangers, but she has never kept a secret from her father. She will have to treat this like any other mission or mundane interaction.
She gets out of bed, leaves her room, and finds Noatak in the kitchen. The table is laden with tea, food, and newspaper pages. He looks up from the paper and smiles pleasantly at her. "Good morning."
"Hey." Korra helps herself to a cup of morning tea.
"We both overslept," Noatak informs her. "I know I needed it, but I can't speak for you."
"I couldn't sleep for most of the night. I probably needed it, too." She sits at the table. "Do you have plans today?"
"I have to go back in an hour."
"So soon?"
He looks directly at her. "You could come with me. I know you're not on the schedule, but at this point, we can always use extra hands."
"Um … I have some things I need to finish here, and around town."
"I see." After pausing to let her eat, he asks, "How was your day yesterday?"
"Oh … good. It was like old times, with Asami."
"Did you talk to her, as you wanted?"
"Yeah … uh … I don't think I convinced her. Her take on bending and politics is pretty different from ours."
"I've wondered if I should talk to Hiroshi about her, but then again, his decisions as a parent are his alone."
"I thought of something I wanted to ask you about." Korra keeps her tone casual, idly curious. "You know all about bending. Have you ever heard of a bender who, for some reason, didn't know they were a bender until they were pretty old?"
"No, I haven't. That may be possible, but it would be extremely unusual."
"Have you ever heard of a bender who didn't want to be a bender?"
Noatak pauses; Korra cannot read his expression. But after a moment he admits, "I used to know someone like that."
"Really? What happened to them?"
He shrugs. "We lost touch. I'm still waiting to find out." He stands, but leaves the dishes. "Since I cooked, would you mind cleaning while I get ready?"
"Sure." Korra is quick, once he goes back to his room. She eats her own breakfast, washes and dries the kitchenware. When she is done, she knocks on his bedroom door.
"Yes?"
"Can I come in?"
"… Alright."
She opens the door halfway and looks in. Noatak is dressed in clothes that will fit easily under the Amon uniform, once he goes underground and changes into it. He is sitting on the bed, surrounded by paperwork. "Do you have time to talk, before you go out?" Korra asks.
In the past he would have answered "Of course," but he is so busy he hesitates before assenting, "All right." Korra comes in and sits on the bed, pulling her legs into the lotus position. "What's on your mind?"
"Could you tell me about how you adopted me?"
He looks about as bemused as she expected. "I've told you the story, haven't I?"
"There are some details I still don't know. How did you decide to do it? And how did you end up choosing me, of all people?"
He bites his lip, stalls by shuffling some papers together and setting them aside before he turns to face her. "I was twenty-seven. I'd been on my own for a decade and a half. I'd traveled around the world, and I was starting to feel like I wanted some roots. And some companionship. I chose you because … I saw myself in you. You were restless, pushing your boundaries … a little selfish perhaps, but wanting everything to be fair."
"Was the process hard? I'm not a lawyer or a social worker, but they don't just hand over a kid to anyone who asks for one, do they?"
"Of course not. But, I had little in the way of identification, since I'd lost my family and whatever records they kept. I had some friends who helped facilitate the process." He looks directly into her eyes now. "Were you just curious, or did you have a particular purpose?"
"Well … I wanted to ask, if … well …"
"What?"
"Would you mind if I looked for my birth parents?"
The corners of his mouth turn down, and a crease appears between his eyes. Is that displeasure or confusion? "Where is this coming from?"
Korra shrugs. "It's just something I've thought about. I have questions … that only they can answer."
Noatak pinches the bridge of his nose, as though trying to ward off a headache. He draws a long breath, then lets it out in a sigh. "I was afraid this might happen."
"I thought you weren't afraid of anything," Korra teases, hoping to lighten the mood and ease his answer or attitude. When he drops his hand, his mouth twitches, but he does not truly smile. "Seriously, though, why?" she presses.
"You might be better off not knowing. If you find them, you might not like what you learn about them, or about yourself."
That is a good point. In the past, she did not want to learn about them, in case it turned out they had not wanted her. Now she knows they wanted her, but she could be disappointed in other ways. Thirteen years is a long time; they could have had more children, or divorced, or died. But Korra stays firm. "I appreciate that, Dad, but I've given it a lot of thought, and I want to look for them."
"I don't want you going about that by yourself."
"Then will you help me?"
He looks pained. "You know I can't, not now. Can you wait until after the revolution?"
"No, that's the thing; I want to do it now, before the revolution, because there isn't going to be an after, is there? Once the United Republic is under Equalist control, you'll move on to the other nations, and fight whoever tries to stop us along the way. You'll only get busier from here on out."
"It's not something you should concern yourself about. If they're dead or indifferent, finding them will only cause you pain."
"But—"
He cuts her off: "When you're grown up and living independently, then you can look for them. I can't help you."
"Can't or won't? Are you scared they'd replace you or something?"
"No—of course not."
"Then what are you scared of?"
"I don't have time for this—I have to get back out there." Noatak reaches out and squeezes her hand, more out of an appeal than affection. "We'll talk about it later." He packs up his papers and leaves Korra sitting sullenly on the bed. A couple minutes later she hears him open and shut the door as he leaves.
That was definitely evasive. But was it guilty? Is Noatak's reservation really for Korra's good, or for his own?
Maybe she already should have confronted him with what she learned. But then he might not have left her unsupervised. For once, Korra feels almost glad that she can expect him to be out for a long time: she now has the entire day to herself.
She starts her search right where she is. She knows Noatak keeps valuables in a fire-proof safe on the top shelf of his bedroom closet. Korra gets it down and picks the lock easily—it was one of the first skills she learned at Equalist training.
Inside are bundles of paper yuans, the "emergency money" Noatak has vaguely mentioned. Korra sets them aside on the floor, ignoring Avatar Aang's picture just as she ignored the gaze of his statue on the way home from the library.
The next item she fishes out startles her: a small but unmistakable bomb. She has seen these, even transported boxes of materials to make them. Why does Noatak have one in their apartment? Does he anticipate ever needing one?
The feeling in Korra's stomach changes. The knot that has been present since she read that article now feels like it has been twisted into a new design. Is this what fear feels like? Fear is what she felt as a child, before she learned how to fight, and who to fight. Her father was the one who helped her stop being afraid; now he is the one frightening her. She no longer knows whether she is being silly or sensible.
At the back of the safe are several pieces of paper, the largest ones folded in half: their immigration forms, her birth certificate, and her adoption paperwork. The papers state her full name, Anakorra. That is different from the name of of Tonraq and Senna's child … but then again, Noatak has never called her Anakorra. The forms are from an agency affiliated with the Water Tribe, called the New Beginnings Agency. Good: with Noatak unwilling to help, this is the starting point she needs.
Korra puts the money and bomb back in the safe, replaces it on the shelf, and takes the papers to the phone. When the operator picks up, she asks, "Can you connect me to the New Beginnings Adoption Agency?"
There is a long pause before the operator says, "I don't see any organization by that name."
"It was up and running about thirteen years ago. Maybe it closed since then?"
"Let me ask someone." It takes another ten minutes before the operator comes back. "I'm sorry, it's not in our records. You could go to City Hall to see if it was ever a registered business."
"I see. Thanks anyway." Korra hangs up the phone feeling equal parts disappointed and suspicious. Maybe this adoption agency never existed. In any case, she cannot go to any city officials or even private investigators for guidance. Even if she just acts like an orphan looking for her biological parents, such a search could implicate her adoptive father, and eventually lead to the Equalist movement.
She tries to think of people who could help her. There are probably Equalists who specialize in making documents, or at least know people who do. But if she seeks help from someone within the movement, word could get back to Amon about it. Asking Asami for advice or assistance is out of the question, since Hiroshi or one of his servants would be sure to find out. But the thought of Asami reminds Korra of Mako and Bolin, and she hovers on the thought of them. They do not know people higher in society, but they do know people from the lower levels.
The idea takes root in Korra's mind, and she smiles at the irony. The thing she likes least about them might actually be an advantage to her.
After getting dressed, she packs up some food, money, a map of the streetcar routes, a pencil, and a notebook (with the documents tucked between its pages) in a knapsack.
With the wait time, the streetcar ride, and walking the rest of the way, it takes just over an hour to get to the Arena. Korra half expects the doors to be locked—there is no match scheduled, have not been for weeks—but she is able to open them, and remembers the way to the boys' apartment.
She calls their names cautiously as she nears the trapdoor-like entrance to their rooms. "Bolin? Mako?"
The elder brother's voice responds. "Who's there?"
"It's Korra." She comes up the stairs, and spots him as her head comes up level with the floor. Mako looks at her blankly, not moving from his spot on the couch. "Sorry to surprise you," she says.
"Did Bolin invite you? Because he's out."
"No, I came on my own." She comes over and stops in front of the couch. "I need to ask you guys something. It's going to sound kind of out-of-nowhere, and it might be a long shot, but I thought I'd at least try."
He closes the book he was reading. "Ohh-kay. What's up?"
"When you worked with the Triple Threats, did you ever meet anyone who worked with fake documents?"
Mako thinks it over for a moment. "Not that I can remember. We might've, without knowing it."
"Do you think they'd have someone who does that kind of work?"
"Probably. Why—"
"Can you tell me where to find them? They must have some main base or headquarters or something."
"You want to knock on their door and talk to them?"
"Yeah."
Mako seems bewildered now, as if he does not know what to think of her. Finally he says, "I thought you … didn't like the triads?"
"You're right. I don't."
"So why're you seeking them out?"
"That's my business. It's too complicated to get into. Can you give me their address?"
He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, scratching the back of his neck. "I can, but … are you sure …"
"Yes, I'm sure." Korra sits a couple feet away from him, takes off her knapsack, and extracts her map.
"Tell me what you want from them, first."
Korra pauses. "Can't you just do me this favor, as a friend?"
Mako's expression hardens slightly. "No offense, Korra, but most nonbender girls try to steer clear of triads, unless they're spying, selling themselves, or dating a member. The others don't go in willingly. So if you're planning to, you're either recklessly stupid, or have some kind of advantage or ulterior motive."
Korra stares him down, trying to keep her face blank while different thoughts and emotions simmer inside her. Part of her is indignant about him underestimating her ability to take care of herself; but looking at the situation from his point of view, she can understand and even appreciate his concern; and his willingness to consider the possibility of her being more than she seems flatters her.
She sighs, fighting exasperation. "If I tell you what I'm doing, will you tell me what I need to know?"
He folds his arms. "Maybe. You'll have to convince me."
"Okay. I need to talk to someone about some legal documents. They might be fake, I can't tell. I want to find someone who can confirm if they're authentic or forged."
"Then why would you want to talk to a criminal? Why don't you go to the police?"
Korra chooses her words carefully. "I don't want to jump to a conclusion and get someone in trouble if they're actually innocent. Even if these papers are fake, there still might be an explanation. So I don't want to implicate or incriminate anyone until I have the full story."
Mako looks at her, trying to understand. "Does it have to do with someone you care about?"
Korra tries not to wince. Either he is more shrewd than she expected, or she is more transparent than she thinks.
A stupid, wishful, pitiful question slips from her lips: "Can I trust you?"
"I—sure you can."
Of course she can't, not with everything; but if he is going to help her, she has to let him know a little bit. "It's about my adoption. So, the things I find out might have an impact on my dad."
He looks at her quizzically. "Are you trying to find your biological parents?"
"No." Her stomach twists as she says it; she feels the same kind of shame she felt about bending, as though she is betraying one party out of loyalty to another. "I haven't decided," she amends. "Before I can even make that decision, I need to know what happened to them, and to me, when I was adopted."
Mako considers her, then finally nods. "Okay, I'll help. But you're not going to meet them by yourself. I'll introduce you."
"Really? I don't want to inconvenience—"
"It's fine. I'll get to say 'hi' to the old crowd. Can I have a piece of paper?"
She takes out a leaf and hands it to him. Mako scrawls a note for Bolin, and then they set out.
The Triple Threat Triad's headquarters is in the kind of neighborhood Noatak always told Korra to avoid, unless she was on a mission. He did not doubt her ability to fend off attackers, but it would be more prudent if she did not show her full range of combative skills. Korra now realizes that could have meant more than she was aware of at the time. She has always possessed more power than she knew how to use.
Just to be safe, she tries to think the way she does on scouting missions, making note of the people and places they pass by. Hobos, drug dealers, and prostitutes loiter by street corners. Only a handful of people actually move up and down the sidewalks, while the others sit or lean against buildings. The pedestrians are hunched and hurried, except for one young-looking guy who seems to be out for a casual walk. Korra wonders if he is an inexperienced tourist or immigrant—or maybe a spy from another triad.
Mako regards the Triple Threats' building warily. "Something's not right. There are usually thugs posted outside. We better be cautious." He sidles up to the window next to the door, but Korra walks nonchalantly to the door and knocks. She takes a step back and waits with her hand on her hip. After a minute, she knocks again, but no one comes. There is no sound inside.
Mako frowns, slipping out of his uptight posture. "Well, this is unprecedented. They always have at least a few people here."
"Hang on." Korra shifts her weight and executes a well-practiced kick, knocking the doors off their hinges and sending them crashing inward. Mako looks at her with the expression of a child who has witnessed a shocking act of daring and now fears the consequences.
When no one comes within view, Korra steps calmly inside and surveys the environment. The walls are mottled with graffiti, scorch marks, and water stains. There is a mess of expensive-looking but uncared-for furniture, some of it overturned, and some covered by white sheets. "Hello?" Korra calls out. "Anyone home?"
"Freeze where you are!" The words are startling, but the voice belongs to a child.
Mako calls out to the stranger. "Who's there?"
"A caretaker. Who are you, and why're you trespassing?"
"We're … potential customers. We're looking for the Triple Threats."
There is a shuffling sound, as someone crawls out from behind a cloth draped over a table: a preteen boy with brown skin, brown hair, and threadbare clothes the color of dirt and grass. "Oh, hey, Mako." The boy stands and raises two fingers in a mock salute, jiggling his cap. Korra thinks he looks vaguely familiar, and tries to place him in her memory.
"Skoochy," Mako greets. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Why not? I'm rising up."
Mako gestures to each of his companions. "Korra, this is Skoochy."
"Hey," Korra says, peering at him. "I think I've seen you before." She feels sure now: has seen him playing in the park and at the train station with other street kids.
"What happened to the place?" Mako asks.
"It got trashed."
"I can see that, but who did it?"
Skoochy stuffs his hands in his pockets with the air of an adult. "Well, my memory's a little foggy. Maybe you can help clear it up?"
"You're good, Skoochy. A real pro." Mako reluctantly takes a dollar bill from his pocket and hands it to the kid, while Korra gapes in disgust. What kind of punk kid demands bribes? She answers her own question: the kind being groomed for a life of crime.
The money immediately loosens Skoochy's lips. "Equalists raided the hideout a while ago. They've hit up all the triads—that's why they got so territorial lately."
"What happened to Shady Shin and the others?"
"Some jumped ship. Some were kicked out. The rest went into hiding. They had to relocate headquarters, since the Equalists know about this place."
"So where's the new place?"
Skoochy smirks, then turns his head away and holds out his hand again. Korra scowls along with Mako, but she steps forward with another bill before he can. After pocketing the money, Skoochy takes off his cap and takes out a piece of paper that was tucked into the inner brim. He unfolds it and shows it to them. Korra copies the address into her notebook, and spreads her map out on the table to locate the place: it is on the same side of the city, just twenty or so blocks away.
She glances uncertainly at Mako. "Are you up for a little hike?"
"Sure."
"You're gonna fix the doors first, right?" Skoochy says.
They do their best, resting the doors back on the hinges, but the pins are all either broken or too bent out of shape to put back in. Mako solves the problem by heating the metal pins enough to bend them back into straight rods; he just manages to melt the broken pieces together. They get the doors back on the hinges, but they seem more crooked now. Korra doesn't feel right leaving the kid vulnerable, but then again, street urchins are not strangers to vulnerability. For the first time in weeks, she thinks of the young airbender she met at the library. Skoochy must be close to her age.
She pauses before leaving. "Skoochy—are you a bender?"
"Yup. Earth."
"You're not actually working for the Triple Threats, are you?"
He looks at her, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Well, I haven't got a contract or whatnot, but they said they might be able to work something out."
"Aren't you scared the Equalists might come back here, looking for more benders?"
"If they do, I know how to hide."
Korra nods. "Okay. Take care of yourself."
Mako rolls his eyes. "That's all he knows how to do." He does not thank Skoochy for the information, and Skoochy does not thank them for fixing the doors. It occurs to Korra that this is probably because they were business transactions, not favors. She wonders what it means that Mako is helping her for free.
The new headquarters is in a similarly run-down area. The door to the hideout is not guarded. Mako knocks, and stands in the way to prevent Korra from barging in again. Almost immediately the door opens a crack, enough for a man with a shadow of a beard to peer out while the chain is still on the door. "Mako? Is that you?"
"Hey, Shady Shin. Is anyone else here?"
"What's it to you?"
"I'm here as a favor to a friend. I thought the Triple Threats might have a recommendation."
The doorman closes the door, but a moment later the door opens, and they see him fully: a slightly unkempt Water Tribe man dressed in fancy but dirty clothes. Korra recognizes him as one of the gangsters whose bending Amon took away at the Revelation. She manages to rein in her surprise and keep her face blank as she follows Mako inside.
They go into a room that seems like a cross between a living room and a conference room. A waterbender sits on a large chair, flanked with two thugs. An assortment of men—some young, some around middle age, some polished, some scruffy—hang about the room, and eye the newcomers with varying levels of curiosity and indifference.
"Never thought you'd show your face to us again," the man in the throne says.
"Nice to see you too," Mako responds with a wry smile. He glances around at the others. "How are you guys?"
Shady Shin answers. "Honestly … things have been rough lately."
Mako nods once, as though in condolence. "I heard on my way here. Sorry."
"Who's your girlfriend?" a stocky earthbender asks.
"This is Korra," Mako says flatly, "and she's not my girlfriend. Where's Zolt?"
"Zolt retired," Viper informs him.
"What? When did that happen?"
"After he lost his bending. The old man couldn't do nothing without it."
Mako looks taken aback. Perhaps he did not know that the rumors about Amon's ability were true; maybe he did not believe them until now. Korra cannot help feeling sorry for him, but she is also somewhat glad to hear this news. Equalizing criminals is one thing she is certain Amon has been doing right.
After the moment it takes to recover his thoughts, Mako asks, "So, who's in charge now?"
Viper smirks and lifts a hand in mock greeting. "You're looking at him. So, what brings you and your non-girlfriend here?"
Korra steps forward. "I need to talk to a forger, or anyone who deals in fake documents. Is there anyone here who could help with that? Or maybe you know someone who could?"
Viper considers her. "Maybe. Gentlemen?"
A thin, mustached firebender speaks up in a high-pitched voice. "Yeah. I know a guy who used to do that."
"Who?"
"I had his business card, but I can't seem to recall—"
"Let me guess. Your memory's 'foggy'?"
Mako speaks up. "Isn't it just good business to tell us? If you recommend people to this guy, he'll owe you a favor."
"Business has been bad all around. You don't get nothing without giving something."
Korra is tempted to say, "How about a guarantee that Amon won't find your new hideout?" but she knows better. Instead she says, "How much do you want?"
"Thirty's good for me."
"Let's say twenty."
"Twenty-five, final offer."
"Fine."
Ping goes into the next room, and returns with a business card, which he shows to Korra. It advertises a pawnshop in a neighborhood of small businesses. "Tell the cashier you want some personalized stationery. He'll let you in to see his boss." He does not let her keep the card, but she memorizes the address, and hands over the cash, cursing herself for going so low as to finance a triad.
Shady Shin escorts them out, but gives Mako a final word: "With the Equalists looking for benders, if you and Bolin need a place to hide, we've still got room for you guys."
Mako looks at him expressionlessly. "I'll keep that in mind." When Shady Shin closes the door behind them, Mako sees Korra watching him, trying to judge him. He shakes his head, answering her unspoken question. He will not take up that offer.
When they stop at an intersection, Korra glances at Mako. "Are you coming? I mean, you don't have to—you can go home, if you want."
He surveys the intersection, from one direction to the next. Finally he says, "I still think I'd better come."
"Suit yourself." She does not mind, really. In fact, it might be good to have someone closer to the Triple Threats to make the introduction. "I hate those guys."
Mako looks at her curiously. "You say that like you know them."
"I meant—I hate people like them."
"Well, to be honest, I'm not crazy about them either. They weren't good role models for Bolin. Still aren't, actually."
"How did you stand working for them?"
"They're not always jerks. They gave us money, and sometimes even a place to stay. We learned how to bend from them. Shady Shin even taught Bolin to play pai sho."
It sounds too nice for thieves and murderers. But then again, maybe being part of that inner circle made Mako feel like one of them. Maybe deep down, he still is one of them.
"Do you think you could talk Skoochy out of working for them?"
Mako looks doubtful. "I guess I can try."
"If you can get through to him, before he gets into trouble … you could prevent him getting arrested, or losing his bending like some of the others." They walk in silence for a minute before she speaks again. "Have you wondered what you would have done if Toza hadn't helped you?"
"Well … yeah. It came down to my choice. Shady Shin played the guilt card, saying that I had to take care of Bolin. But I thought getting our own place would be the better thing for him."
Korra looks at him, feeling something like admiration. "You chose honesty."
He meets her gaze. "What, does that surprise you?"
"No—I just—I respect you for that." She means it. She breaks their eye contact to look forward as they walk. "Can I ask you something else?"
"I guess."
"Do your eyebrows naturally grow in that shape? Or do you shape them that way?"
He looks so bewildered by the question that she looks away in embarrassment. But a moment later he mutters, "I shape them like that."
She smiles crookedly. "Have you always, or has being with Asami made you all prissy?"
He starts to flare up at this. "Why do you even care?"
Korra shrugs and says innocently, "I have a natural curiosity." At that moment, she feels a strange sense of deja vu. She is certain she heard someone say those same words, in that same tone, with that same gesture; but she cannot think of who.
After a moment's silence Mako answers the question. "I've done it for years. It's a firebender style."
"Come again?"
"I picked it up from Lightning Bolt Zolt. He's the one who taught me to bend lightning. He said the shape was supposed to be like a flame."
She studies his eyebrows again. "I think I see it, but it's a bit of a stretch."
"It's not like it takes a lot of effort." He pauses and then asks pointedly, "Why do you wear your hair in three ponytails?"
She has worn it this way since she was little. "It keeps it out of my face. It's convenient."
"Why not just have one ponytail? Or cut your hair short?"
Now Korra starts to feel the same annoyance he did a moment ago. "Okay, I get the hint. I won't question your fashion choices again."
They have to stop at another street corner to wait for the lights to change.
Behind them comes the sound of car tires screeching, then someone calling out, "Sorry!" Korra looks back, and sees that someone tried to cross just when the lights changed back to signal the cars' right of way. She is surprised to find that she recognizes the jaywalker: he was in the neighborhood of the Triple Threats' original headquarters, the only person in that area who seemed neither scared nor purposeful. It occurs to her that his behavior is exactly what a scout should exhibit on a mission; after all, she has done it plenty of times.
She tugs on Mako's sleeve and says in a low voice, "I think we're being followed. I saw that same guy earlier today."
Mako glances back; the young man has just managed to cross the street, about a hundred yards away from them. "You're sure?"
"Let's keep walking, then stop, and see what he does." Following the map, they go down a couple blocks, then stop and pretend to look at a storefront window on a corner. Korra pretends to look at Mako when she is really looking past him at their tail, who has also stopped. "Do you believe me now?"
Mako looks both skeptical and amused. "First an identity crisis, now a stalker? What kind of game are you playing?"
"Sometimes even I don't know." His use of the word "game" helps Korra think of an idea. "Watch this." She scoops up some snow from the sidewalk and packs it into a ball. Snowballs have always been a favorable weapon for her; she wonders, now, if her waterbending has helped her without her being conscious of it. The snow and ice have always melted in just the way she wants it to.
Korra winds up and throws the snowball at just the right trajectory to hit the man squarely on the side of his head. She ducks around the corner just as he turns toward her, and gestures for Mako to follow her into the alley on the other side of the building. They hide there, and a minute later the stalker walks by, casting furtive glances all around. The moment he spots them, Korra tackles him and pulls him into the alley. "Gotcha, creeper!" The youth splutters but does not shout or scream.
"Do you know him?" Mako asks, looking suspiciously between the two of them.
"Not personally," Korra says coolly. "Could you give us a minute? You can stand watch."
"Uh, sure." He steps out onto the sidewalk, but only turns halfway away from them. Korra pulls the guy further into the alley, and then pushes him up against the wall.
"Who sent you?"
His breathless answer is automatic: "No one."
She twists his arm up behind his back, making him grunt and gasp. "Don't lie to me! Are you with the city?"
"I'm on your side!" he grunts. "Honest!"
"Then who sent you?"
"Our—our leader!"
"Who's that?"
The guy is almost whimpering. "Amon! Okay?"
Korra's grip slackens—she had not realized she was squeezing so tightly—but she does not let him go, even in spite of the chaos stirring and settling inside her. "How long has he been having me followed?"
"I dunno—I thought today was the first day. I don't know anything!"
Amon must have dispatched a tail as soon as he arrived at work, right after their argument that morning. "He doesn't trust me," Korra realizes. He is afraid of what she wants to find out. Does that mean she is on the right track, coming closer to the truth? The thought is both frightening and encouraging.
"Will you let me go? Sister?"
She snorts at the familial honorific. "Go back and make your report. Tell Amon you got caught." Then she lets go of him. He backs away from her, his eyes filled with fear and confusion, before running out of the alley.
Mako is still standing on the sidewalk, arms crossed and expression blank. He watches the man leave before turning to Korra. "What was that about?"
"Long story. I won't bore you with the details." She checks the map again. "We're only a couple blocks away. Let's get this over with."
They find the pawnshop easily enough. Korra goes directly to the cashier behind the counter and says, "I need some personalized stationery."
There is no obvious flash of recognition, but he holds eye contact and nods before going to the back room. When he returns a few minutes later, he gestures for them to follow.
It looks like a fairly ordinary office, with bookshelves and cabinets lining the walls. A couple armchairs are set out for visitors. The forger sits in a large swivel chair behind a fancy mahogany desk. Unlike Skoochy and the Triple Threats, his surroundings, appearance, and manners appear professional. "Can I help you kids?"
"Yeah. Two-Toed Ping recommended you."
"Ah, so you're with the Triple Threats."
"Not exactly. He used to be," Korra says, jerking her head toward Mako. "But this doesn't have to do with them. It's personal."
"I see. So what'll it be? Passports? Licenses?"
"We don't need anything made," Mako spells out.
The forger pauses, his enthusiasm waning. "Then what do you need me for?"
"Just verification. Or whatever the opposite of that is." Korra places the knapsack on his desk, takes out the notebook, and removes the documents. "Can you tell me whether these are authentic?"
"Of course. But it'll cost you."
Indignant, Korra puts a hand on her hip. "You charge just for looking at something?"
"I don't eat for free, sweetheart."
She huffs. "Fine, how much?"
"Usually I'd say a hundred yuans … but for you I'll drop it to seventy-five."
After taking the streetcar, bribing Two-Toed Ping, and setting aside money for the streetcar ride home, she does not have enough. "How about fifty?"
The man lets out an appreciative laugh. "Seventy, final offer."
Korra starts to turn away, disappointed. "Never mind. Maybe another day."
When she starts for the door, Mako holds her back. "How much do you need?"
"Another twenty."
She watches in surprise as Mako reaches in his pocket and takes out a wallet. He pulls out four bills and hands them to her. "You sure?" She knows money is even tighter for the boys than for herself.
Mako nods. "You can pay me back later."
"Really? You don't have to—"
"I don't want this trip to be wasted."
The self-interested statement actually makes her feel a little better. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." When he says that, Korra remembers how Asami added the word "literally" when she used that phrase. You are welcome. Welcome to their lives, their homes, their favors.
They fork over the money and the documents. The forger says to them, "Give me fifteen minutes. Make yourselves comfortable."
Korra and Mako each sit in an armchair while he goes about his work. He rummages through drawers full of files, finds a book and flips through the pages, seems to compare the documents to another example. He looks at them through a magnifying glass, and holds them up against the electric lights. Korra watches the clock to time him, wondering if he really meant what he said. She spent so much of the day focusing on the search itself that she did not have much time to think about what the results will mean, and what her next step will be.
Only ten minutes go by before he calls them back to his desk. "What's your verdict?" Korra asks.
He waves his hand over the immigration forms, birth certificate, and adoption certificate. "These are all forgeries."
Korra looks at him, not wanting to believe it, not ready to believe it so easily. "All of them? You're certain?"
He nods. "The details are almost impeccable, but the paper doesn't have the watermark that would have been used at the time, and the seals are made from copied stamps, not the real deal. They're impressive forgeries, but still forgeries."
Mako glances at Korra, who cannot take her eyes off the papers. When she seems unable to move, he prompts her gently, "Was there anything else you wanted to do? Or ask?"
She shakes her head, both to answer him and to clear her mind. "No. That was it." She picks up the papers, holding them securely in both hands, and looks at the forger. "Thanks for all the help."
"Anytime, milady. My best to Ping and the others," he says to Mako.
The two teenagers exit the back room and then the pawnshop itself. Once outside, Korra stands forlornly on the sidewalk, staring down at the papers that used to hold so much weight. Now their weight has nothing to do with what they are, and everything to do with what they are not.
"Korra?" Mako's feet crunch in the snow as he stands next to her. "Are you okay?" He places his hand tentatively on her arm.
"No." She looks at him, and then back at the documents, in despair. "I'm not okay. I'm …"
"Let's find someplace to sit down." He takes her arm and gently leads her to a trolley stop with a sheltered bench. "What's wrong?"
"Everything." Her answer is truthful, but it means a lot more than he is aware of, so she tries to specify. "These are my adoption papers. If they're fake—what does that mean? What should I do?"
"Do you think you were adopted illegally?"
"I—this pretty much proves it."
"Hm." Mako looks thoughtful, in a dark, brooding way, like he is trying to solve a brain-teaser. For Korra, this feels like trying to solve a sudoku puzzle whose numbers turned out to be entirely different than what she thought they were. But Mako can examine it with fresh, impartial eyes, which could help despite his incomplete knowledge of what is at stake. "Can you remember your parents at all?"
"Only vaguely."
"Can you remember anyone else who took care of you, between them and your adoptive dad?"
She shakes her head. "No. I remember wanting my parents, and being with him. I think … I think I was kidnapped. The question is … was it my dad who took me, or did he get me from someone else? Someone who made him those documents?"
"Why would someone take you by force?"
Korra can think of only one reason why anyone would single her out. Because I'm the Avatar. But phrasing it like that, she suddenly thinks of another question: Why would Noatak want the Avatar? Why would the man born to end bending take the most powerful bender in the world …
Of course.
If Avatar Aang were alive, and the city he founded was threatened by people trying to eliminate bending, he would put a stop to it.
If Korra had grown up knowing she was the Avatar—the world's most powerful bender—the government probably would have called upon her to quell such an uprising.
Amon may have wanted to prevent the Avatar from opposing his revolution. Or he may have wanted the Avatar to fight on his side rather than against him. Probably both.
Korra's head hurts thinking of these possibilities. Is she being clever and deductive, or just seeing connections where none exist? She doesn't want any of this to be true, so it can't be wishful thinking. It could be paranoia, but that is usually irrational, and the web she is uncovering is disturbingly logical.
"Korra?" Mako grasps her shoulder and shakes her slightly, wanting to know what she is thinking, what can have her so upset, how he can help.
"This is so messed up," she says. "This is—bigger than you can imagine. I can't even …"
"Look, Korra, if you're scared, you don't have to go home. You can stay with us, or Asami if that would be better, and we can talk to the police—"
"No!" She is struggling to compose herself, because she cannot start blubbering like some poor kid afraid of an abusive parent, insisting on returning to someone who claims to love her—
Oh, spirits. Is that what the situation is? Did he keep her only so she wouldn't oppose him, or so he could use her? Did he ever really love her?
Mako pauses, concerned and careful. "Do you think he'd hurt you, if he found out you found out about this?"
"No!" Korra bristles at the look he is giving her. "I'm not scared of him. I'm scared of what this means. If I bring this up—if I accuse him of lying and ask him to answer my questions—I'm afraid of what that will change."
Mako is silent for a moment, deep in thought himself, though his thoughts cannot be nearly as deep and murky as Korra's. Finally he says, "I think whatever changes will come down to what you do. Like, whether you decide to stay with him, or look for your real parents—I don't know what your other options are, but it comes down to your choice. You can't change what already happened, but you can decide how to act on what you know."
They cannot leave until Korra knows where she is going, so she considers her options at this point.
She could go home, or find some other place to stay. She rules out the latter option when she remembers her Equalist tail. He probably saw her go to the Arena, and he definitely saw her looking for the triads and walking around with Mako. If she does not go home, it will look very bad for the firebender boy. For the sake of his reputation, and by extension his safety, she has to return and show that she is alright.
From there, her choices are to tell Noatak what she learned, or pretend she has learned nothing. The former option could cause an explosion between them; but the latter would bring a gradual, simmering sense of division between them, because she would always be in doubt, and keeping a secret from him would feel like a betrayal, because it would be out of a lack of trust. But if he does not deserve her trust, what difference does it make? The possibility that he has done nothing wrong …
Korra feels like her mind is a racetrack, and her thoughts going in circles.
Mako tries to help again. "What matters more to you? Keeping things stable at home, or finding out the truth?"
She remembers something Noatak said to her recently: "This isn't about what you want. This is about what is right."
This is not just about herself. This is about her parents and the stability of the world.
One way or another, she ought two rectify two wrongs: Tonraq and Senna should know that their daughter is alive, and the Avatar should take her rightful place keeping balance. Those things can only happen if she seeks and reveals the truth. It would be selfish to keep this knowledge to herself.
Before she endeavors to fix either problem, she has to know whether Amon will be her ally, her enemy, or a neutral power. She has to tell him what she has learned and see how he reacts.
If her suspicions are wrong—if he was an unknowing participant in another person's scheme to relocate the Avatar—then he might be willing to help her search for her real parents, if only to tell them that she is alive.
If her suspicions are right—if he took her for political motives—he is unlikely to let her change anything about the balance of the world, unless it benefits him, or the Equalists, or the greater good. And things will never be the same between them, because a secret as big as this casts doubt on everything else the secret-keeper says and does.
Of course, if he was her kidnapper, he could simply deny it. But if he did not do it, he should have no problem with her investigating the matter further, so that could be a test to fall back on.
Korra folds up the papers, slides them into the envelope, and puts the envelope in her bag. "I have to go home."
"Then what?"
She closes the bag and meets his amber eyes. "I choose the truth."
Mako nods, then stands and extends a hand to her. Korra fleetingly remembers Bolin offering to carry groceries. She could get up herself, but in that split second of memory, she decides to accept the help. Heck, Mako has already helped her today more than any friend has in her lifetime.
She lets him pull her up, but as she stands her foot slips on a patch of ice and she almost falls into him. He catches her, awkwardly holding her up; but he is quick to let go the moment she is steady. Korra mutters an apology, which Mako brushes off. She cannot remember being more embarrassed, at least not with a boy.
As they walk and ride the trolley back across the city, the sun starts to sink, and the buildings cast shadows on the streets, broken by strips of sunlight spilling between buildings and over lower rooftops. Korra shivers, half from cold, and half from anxiety of what she has learned and what she has yet to learn.
When they reach the point where they should split in different directions, Mako says, "I'll walk you home." It is not so much an offer as a decision already made. Korra does not argue, because she wants to have company for as long as possible. They do not speak much; Mako seems to sense and respect that she is not in the mood to chat.
She pauses when they reach her apartment building. "This is it." They both stop in front of the steps, lingering on the sidewalk.
Is this how people feel at the end of a date, when they have to go separate ways? She wonders how Mako says goodbye to Asami after their dates, if they hug or kiss or make plans to communicate or meet again. She cannot do any of those things with this boy, but she feels like she ought to say or do something.
Korra says the most relevant thing she can think of. "Thank you for helping me." She wants to say she owes him a favor, but it seems unlikely that she will be able to return it, so she decides not to mention it.
For the second time that day, Mako says, "You're welcome." He hesitates, not leaving right away. "Is there anything else I can do?"
"No. It's nice of you to ask, but there's nothing more at this point."
He looks at her, then at the apartment building, and then back at her. "I can't just walk away. I'm involved now, so …" He shrugs awkwardly. "I want to know that you'll be okay."
"I'll be fine. I may not know everything about my dad, but I know he would never hurt me."
"You trust him that much …" Mako trails off, so that she cannot tell if it is a question or a statement. She does recognize an implication, though: she once trusted Noatak to be honest with her, and her questions tonight might shatter that trust completely. What if her belief in his love and her safety is also misplaced?
"Korra. Once you find out the truth … what will you do?"
"I don't know. It depends on what the truth is, and how he reacts to my knowing it."
"Be careful, then." Mako hesitates, and for a moment Korra wonders, irrationally, if he is going to hug or kiss her. Instead he looks up at the building. "Which one is your apartment?"
Normally Korra would be suspicious if anyone asked her that—especially a boy, and a firebender—but she feels she can trust him at this point. "It's the third floor, on the left. My window empties onto the fire escape. Trust me, if I ever needed to get out, I'd be able to."
"Just in case you can't—" Mako grasps the scarf around his neck, tugs it off, and holds it out to her. "Here."
What the heck? "What's this for?"
He seems to be trying to hide his own embarrassment. "If you ever need help—if you, I don't know, don't feel safe—you can hang this in your window. Asami or Bolin or I will check to see if it's there, so we'll know if you need help."
"That's not ne—"
"If you want to return it, it'll give you a reason to get out of the apartment, to come see us."
She accepts it, because it seems like the only way to get him to leave, but she still looks at him uncertainly. "Are you sure? I've never seen you not wearing it."
There is definitely bashfulness in his expression, but not shame. "It was my dad's. I … I like to think it keeps me safe."
That does it. "I can't take—"
"I trust you to get it back to me. Okay?"
Now Korra wishes she were more deserving of trust. If Mako knew the truth about her being an Equalist, being Amon's daughter—the thought makes her cheeks burn with shame—he would fear her, maybe even hate her. Maybe this is why Noatak has kept secrets from her: it is easier to gloss over details that would destroy the good feelings that develop between people.
She looks down and twists the red fabric in her hands. "I shouldn't have asked for your help."
"Hey, it's no prob—"
"I shouldn't have gotten you mixed up in my problems." She looks at up him, trying to convey the apology she cannot verbalize. "My dad hasn't been honest with me, but I also haven't been honest with you."
Mako blinks at her, and his strangely shaped eyebrows turn downward, making him look puzzled and guarded once more. "What are you talking about?"
Korra hugs herself, as though to keep warm. "Have you ever had a secret that you couldn't tell, because it would be betray a lot of people? And maybe endanger whoever you told it to?"
Mako regards her cautiously. "I'm not sure if knowing gangsters counts … but I guess I can imagine that."
"Then you can believe—you need to believe that I never meant to hurt you, and that anything I hid from you was for your own good."
"Like, you'd tell me but then you'd have to kill me?"
"Exactly."
His expression hovers between apprehension and suspicion. "You're not making me feel any better about leaving you—"
"Then forget I ever said anything. Leave me alone so I can sort this out—without hurting anyone else."
"Korra—"
"Goodbye." She turns away.
"Korra!" She has only taken two steps when she feels his hand on her shoulder, holding her back.
"What?" His stubborn willingness to help is starting to irritate her.
He drops his hand. "Whatever you decide—I hope it works out for you."
"Thanks." All he wants is to help, to make sure she is okay. He is better than she deserves. "Mako?"
"Yeah?"
"I had you pegged wrong. I didn't think you could be good enough for Asami, but … you are. I knew from the start that you were lucky to have Asami, but now I think she's also lucky to have you." She starts to blush, not used to speaking so frankly.
Mako stares at her. "You're … really weird."
In spite of herself, Korra smiles ruefully. "You don't know the half of it."
He returns the smile uncertainly, and stays at the corner to watch her go inside. When she reaches the window in the stairwell, she sticks her head out and watches him walk down the street until he turns the corner. Now she is alone, but she has three things she lacked this morning: a shattered illusion, a strange connection, and a red scarf.
Author's Notes
Artwork: "MaKorra: You alright?" by jesterry on DeviantArt.
Music: "In My Life" from Les Misérables (all Cosette and Jean Valjean's parts, but just the last lines of Marius and Eponine's: "In my life, there is someone who touches my life, waiting near, waiting here").
Symbolism: Mako's plan for arranging a distress signal is an actual strategy that people in abusive situations can use when they feel unsafe. It also harks back to two red symbols placed outside of dwellings in the Bible: the lambs' blood on the Hebrews' doorposts at Passover (Exodus 12:21-23) and Rahab's scarlet cord in the window (Joshua 2:17-21). Both signals were instructed by someone promising protection from coming danger.
Chronology: According to the timeline on the Avatar Wiki, Noatak/Amon was born in 130 AG (after the Air Nomad genocide). He ran away in 144. Korra was born in 153, and in this story Noatak kidnapped her in 157, when he was 27 and she was 4. He is now 40 years old.