Published August 12, 2016

"Dangerous to Know"

My stars shine darkly over me. The malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper yours. Therefore I shall crave of your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you. ~ William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, or What You Will, II, i

Korra sleeps intermittently throughout the night. The sun shining through her window blinds wakes her up, but she remains in bed for a while, stretching and groaning as the previous day's events come back to her. She is hungry, and she has to go to the bathroom, but she does not want to step outside and see him. At least not as though everything is normal.

She wonders if she could go on a hunger strike—maybe that would give her some leverage. Whether or not he cares about Korra herself, it wouldn't be advantageous to the revolution if the Avatar were to die and be reincarnated, would it? Then he would have to start a fresh search in the vast Earth Kingdom. Plus, the new Avatar might remember Amon and the Equalists from Korra's experiences, the way Korra somehow remembered Yakone from Aang's experiences. It only takes her a minute to reject the idea of starving herself: he would probably force-feed her if he had to.

Her empty stomach and full bladder convince her to pull herself out of bed. She still has Mako's scarf wrapped around one wrist, and she deliberates what to do with it. She cannot let Amon find it—the boys' position is precarious enough without him misconstruing odd gestures of kindness—and she does not trust him to respect the privacy of her room anymore. The only place he (probably) will not search is in the clothes she wears. So she wraps the scarf around her abdomen, tucks in the ends, and looks for a shirt to wear over it.

Though they have never dressed to identify with any particular nation, Korra has always liked the color blue best and preferred it for her clothes. She previously thought it was because it matched her eyes, but maybe it also brought a sense of familiarity after she was taken from the Water Tribe. Now, to honor her parents and the life she should have had with them, she puts on some blue garments, and some rope bracelets she braided years ago. Maybe, if she can find the right materials, she can make armbands, like those she has seen Water Tribe immigrants wear.

When she enters the hallway, she sees Amon sitting on the sofa, reading a newspaper, so casually that it could be any ordinary day. He glances up as she shuffles to the bathroom, but does not wish her good morning in his usual manner. Korra wonders if she should, or could, refuse to speak to him again; but she still has questions and arguments to hash out with him.

On a whim, she tries firebending in the privacy of the bathroom, but no flame appears. Amon must have blocked her chi again before she woke up. Figures.

He steps into the kitchen area at the same time she does. Up close now, she sees that he has dark circles under his eyes. Korra wonders if he stayed up deliberately to keep tabs on her, or simply had trouble sleeping. What could keep Amon awake at night? Guilt about the past, or anxiety about the future?

"I took the day off," he informs her, answering her first, unspoken question. This is somewhat impressive: Amon having a vacation day when the revolution is so imminent and all his associates are busy as buzzard-wasps. That goes to show how determined he is to keep Korra closely watched and under control. She supposes if he assigned a baby-sitter, she could try to sweet talk whoever guarded her, or worse, reveal Amon's dark secret. She doesn't imagine his followers would take the news of their leader being a kidnapper very well. But then again, maybe they would be glad of it, since he did it to keep her, the Avatar, the world's most powerful bender, out of the way.

The world's most powerful bender. Stuck in a tiny apartment. Too afraid to use her own bending. Her fingers already itch, wanting to be doused in water, sift through earth, or play with fire. They already have air, but she cannot imagine how to bend that, besides various ways of breathing: huffing, panting, whistling, blowing raspberries.

"What would you like for breakfast?"

She doesn't answer, but gets a cup from the cupboard and pours herself some breakfast tea from the kettle on the stove.

"Fruit? Rice? Jerky? If you want, we could make sweet buns."

She gets a spoon and mixes some honey in the tea, and takes small sips, getting used to the temperature. She keeps her face turned away from him, as much as she can while keeping him in her peripheral vision.

"You can't ignore me forever, Korra."

She breaks her silence then. "I don't think you want to hear the things I have to say." She finally meets his gaze then, each of them sizing the other up. She thinks of a compromise: "I'll talk if you answer my questions."

"I thought you exhausted those."

"Oh, no; there's a lot that you haven't explained."

He grunts, then sits down at the table. "Very well. Fire away."

She shoots him a look, annoyed by the ironic idiom. Then she posits: "Why did you never take my bending?"

He looks at her, and answers calmly and matter-of-factly. "I don't know what effect it would have on you. Your powers are not only physical. I thought equalizing you might take away your spiritual powers."

"And you care about that because …"

"I think you might be able to take people's bending away."

Korra steps backwards, staggering as though he hit her. "What?"

"When we first met—"

"When you took me." She will no longer tolerate him glossing over that circumstance.

"Back then, I didn't have the ability. But I knew you might have that ability, and that I could show you how to use it."

Korra gapes at him. She has that power? Because Aang had it? "So … you wanted me to be the 'equalizer'?" In her mind's eye, she envisions herself as a little girl, and him dressing her up like a miniature Amon. She feels anger, again, at his presumption, but stills it to focus on her line of questioning. "What about when you found out you could do it yourself? You don't need me to do it so long as you can."

"I thought, if anything should happen to me, there ought to be one other person who can take my place and lead the world to equality. And there is no one else I would rather entrust that responsibility to."

She is furious. He only let her keep her power so she could use it for his own purposes. He did not just want to contain her power, he wanted to use it. He still wants that. She is not just a repurposed tool; she is a secret weapon.

He looks at her imploringly, as though her anger saddens him. "Can't you understand, Korra? If you had been raised by benders, grown up working alongside them, they would have made you fight against us. But we are the ones who will bring true balance to the world, and that is what you—the Avatar—should be doing. I wanted to give you the chance to do the right thing."

"The right thing," Korra repeats. What does that even mean? Does he think rightness is obvious and absolute? She remembers her conversation with Asami—was that just the day before yesterday?—and their talk of taking sides. "The most evil people in the world are the ones who don't realize they're evil."

"What if what's right for one person isn't right for another?" Once she says it, Korra realizes the question could carry two meanings: differences in perception leading to disagreement about what is right; and situations in which the same action helps one person but harms another.

Amon gives her a withering look of disapproval. "Haven't we discussed this in your lessons? Relativism doesn't help anyone."

"You don't have the judgment to teach me right and wrong. All you've taught me is hatred for benders and compassion for non-benders. But it's not that simple. And now I know I'm a bender—four times over—am I supposed to hate myself now? Do you think that's right?"

"It's not yourself you should hate, Korra. It's your ability. You know what bending does, what it drives people to do—destroy, oppress, injure—"

"You're forgetting heal, build, and sustain. Now that I think about it—the elements are just like people, they can be either good or bad, based on what they do."

He looks at her with amazement that might actually be genuine. "Can this be? In a single day my daughter has gone from a steadfast soldier to a deluded Avatar? You think bending will help the world?"

"I don't know that eliminating bending will. There'll still be people who choose to hurt and take advantage of others. Nothing that you or I do will change that."

"Then what do you see as the solution?"

"To what? Evil? I don't think there's any way to get rid of it forever. But to keep balance—to keep evil at bay, help people live in harmony—the government and law enforcement do need to change. And if I had grown up knowing I'm the Avatar, and met people in power, maybe by now I would have done some things to change the system."

"You think too well of yourself—or your conscience, I should say."

"You think too poorly of the Avatar—s." She adds the plural belatedly. "Look at Kyoshi and Aang—they fought tyrants, they knew when things needed to change."

"Aang did the same thing I do. He took away people's bending. His only mistake was saving it as a last resort, for benders who proved too powerful to contain. I'm preventing benders from reaching that point. You can follow his example as well as mine, Korra. I can teach you what I do. I'd say it's your duty as the supposed peacekeeper of the world."

Korra gapes, incredulous, wondering if he really means what he is saying, or is just trying to keep her on his side. She does not know what to think. This man has manipulated and lied to her more than anyone else in the world. How can she believe him? How can she give in when she only just began to stand up to him?

Does he really see Equalism as the hope for the greater good, something that justifies all the bad things he has done? That mindset is frightening, despite its ostensible rationality.

She thinks, then, of the crime she cannot forgive: taking her from her parents. As good as Amon has been to her, he put two innocent people through the devastating pain of losing their only child. She has seen glimpses of such tragedies in the hospital and soup kitchen. She imagines her parents—trying to reconstruct her vague memories of their faces—crying after she was taken, and becoming hollow and melancholy with each year that she failed to return. They are still waiting for her. So is the White Lotus. So is the world.

Perhaps she can strike some deal with him, to keep his secret and protect his liberty in exchange for the chance to meet her parents and learn from bending masters—

But then, as he said, they would expect her to be on their side, to defend benders by opposing the Equalists.

Korra hates the idea of doing nothing, but it seems taking any action will inevitably hurt someone she cares for, or used to care for, or should care for.

"Can I have some time to think it over?" She does need time to figure out what, if anything, she should do regarding the war. But she knows one thing she wants—in fact, feels obligated—to do: find her biological parents. Of course he will not allow her to, she will have to attempt it secretly, but she will only be able to leave him if he trusts her enough to allow her some freedom.

Amon nods, and takes his tea and newspaper back to the living room. He seems determined to stay there, at a vantage point that allows him to surveil the entryway and all the doors to the inner rooms. Not wanting to stay in his presence a second longer than necessary, Korra eats a quick breakfast, brushes her teeth in the bathroom, and then returns to her bedroom. She cleans up the shredded posters on her floor, and considers cleaning her room, something she usually hates to do but might bring a sense of cleansing or purging. Korra decides against it, and instead sits against her bed to think over her options.

If she were to rejoin the Equalists, she could try spying on them, maybe feed the police some information—but even as she thinks it, she knows it would be impossible, with Amon breathing down her neck. He would always be watching her, or have someone else watching her; and if she were caught, she would not be the only one to suffer the consequences: Mako and Bolin would suffer, unless she can find a way to warn them and get them out of the Equalists' reach.

She is not protecting Mako and Bolin just for Asami's sake; it is for her own sake, because she cares about them. As far as she knows, Amon is not entirely aware of the distinction. She must take care that he does not learn how much they mean to her personally.

Asami herself represents another complication. If Korra ever betrayed the Equalists, eventually the police would find Hiroshi's work, and if they arrested him, Asami would have no family left. Korra cannot be responsible for that.

The sound of their doorbell startles both of the apartment's inhabitants. Curious, Korra stands in her doorway to listen. Amon mutters suspiciously, "Who would they let come this close?" He must mean the Equalists he posted as guards in and around the building. They probably don't know that their leader lives here, but they are guarding it on his orders, and they must know that their charges are important. They would only let someone harmless get this close to them. Amon presses the intercom button and speaks into it, his tone nonchalant. "Who is it?"

"Hi. It's Asami Sato."

Korra's heart leaps with a strange combination of joy and fear. Amon glances back at her with raised eyebrows, but changes his tone to one of amiability. "Ah, Asami. How are you?"

"I'm doing well, thanks. I was hoping to talk to Korra. Is she home?"

"She is, but she's under the weather; in fact she's been in her room all morning, trying to sleep."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"That's kind of you, but no."

There is a pause. "Can I talk to her for one minute?"

"I think it's better to let her rest; but I'll give her your regards."

A moment passes before Asami responds. "Okay. Thank you."

"Have a good day, Asami." He turns away from the intercom and faces Korra. "Your friend is very considerate."

"She doesn't know anything. And if you ask me, Hiroshi needs to tell her what he does. And once she knows the truth, I won't have to lie to her anymore."

Amon shakes his head. "I fear she's too sympathetic with the enemy. She will learn the truth when the tide turns in our favor."

Korra retreats back into her room and flops onto the bed, wondering what she can do about this situation. He cannot keep her here forever. But if she can't leave for the present, how is she supposed to make use of her time?

Suddenly there is a knocking noise at her window, a light but deliberate rapping. Korra springs up on all fours, like Naga when she senses someone approaching or observing her—

The spectator looking through the glass is Asami.

What the heck?

Is this a normal thing for friends to do? Should she have come to Asami's bedroom window in the past? No, that is a ridiculous idea: the Sato mansion doesn't have this kind of fire escape, and they have so much security she could never sneak around it like this without being stopped.

Asami doesn't know that the building is being watched, that whatever they say or do will be witnessed. Yet—it dawns on Korra—as long as she doesn't give anything away, they won't intervene with Asami, because she is Hiroshi Sato's daughter and not supposed to know about the Equalists.

Korra opens her window a few inches and kneels to speak through the opening, gripping the sill. "What are you doing, stalking me?" she hisses through the gap.

"I'm sorry—" Asami begins in a conversational volume.

"Keep your voice down!"

She finishes quietly: "—but the way you acted the other day really made Mako worried."

"Mako sent you?" Korra can't help feeling touched, because it seems that he really cares about her, but also worried, because she does not want Amon to know that the boys care about her.

"He just asked me to make sure you were okay. You would do the same for us, if you thought we were … dealing with something hard."

Korra thinks back to the previous day, tries to keep all the known and hidden facts straight in her mind. All Mako knows is that she suspected her father may have kidnapped her. "Is that all he thinks? That I'm going through a hard time?"

"He's pretty sure you are; he just isn't sure of the details."

"Does he think I'm in some kind of domestic violence situation?"

Asami hesitates, as though she is either indecisive, embarrassed, or trying not to be offensive. "He didn't use those words, but yeah, that was kind of the vibe you gave him." She holds up a hand before Korra can make a defense. "The boys have known people from bad home situations—"

"So have I!"

"—they can tell when someone is trying to cover stuff up, or protect someone who hurts them. And the way your dad lied just now, to keep me from seeing you … well, you can't blame us for wondering. Can you stand up for a minute?"

Korra obliges, only to prove a point. Asami's eyes search Korra's exposed skin, which bears less than her usual number of cuts and bruises, since she has not gone on an assignment in so many days. To prove how fit she is, she does some jumping jacks, flexing her arms and legs with ease. "You don't look hurt," Asami admits.

"I'm not," Korra says, sitting down again. It is true in a physical sense, but not an emotional one.

"Did you and your dad have a fight or something?"

"… Yeah, we did."

"Was it bad?"

"Trust me, Asami, it wasn't bad the way you're worrying—but you still don't want to know. I appreciate that you guys care so much, but you can't do stuff like this. You have no idea what kind of risk you're taking."

"By what? Reaching out? Being friends?"

"Yes, exactly that." Asami looks taken aback by her bluntness. Korra immediately feels contrite. "I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt your feelings—and it's not because of anything you've done—but you have to stay away from now on."

Despite the gentleness of her words, Asami looks hurt. "Why?" she demands.

"I can't—there is so much to this you don't understand—"

"We might if you tried telling us," Asami cuts in.

"Keep your voice down!" Korra hisses. They glare at each other, until Korra says, "I need to figure this out on my own."

"Korra—"

"Asami, please. Just go. Please." Something about those words feels familiar, as though she has used them before in a similar situation, sending away a well-intentioned friend.

Reluctantly Asami stands, but she presses, "Is there anything you need?"

Then Korra thinks of something. "Actually …" Asami pauses, looking wary and almost hopeful, which causes Korra more pain. "… there is something you can do for me, since you're here." Korra steps away from the window and goes to her jewelry box. She opens the drawer that holds her money, and extracts twenty yuans. Then she stands against the outer wall of her bedroom, out of Asami's line of vision, reaches under her shirt, and unwinds Mako's scarf from her torso. She carries both items back to the window.

Asami looks newly startled, seeing the familiar accessory. "Is that—"

"Mako's, yeah. Will you return it to him? He said it'd be a signal, and give me an excuse to visit him and Bolin, but that's not going to happen, so I don't want to keep it from him. The money is what he loaned me yesterday."

Asami gives her a hard look; her makeup accentuates her narrowed eyes and compressed lips. She takes the scarf and money through the gap, but pauses as the items change hands. "We match," she says, raising her left wrist, on which she wears the rope bracelet Korra braided for her years ago, the same night Asami herself made the one Korra is wearing. It was on her thirteenth birthday, Korra remembers, so recent and so long ago, a time when they whispered secrets in complete confidence. So much has changed since then.

Asami breaks the moment as abruptly as the started it, and stuffs the money and scarf unceremoniously into her purse. Then she folds her arms, her eyes flickering between the fire escape beneath her and Korra in front of her. "You know, when we were little, I sometimes got the feeling that our dads wanted us to be friends, because they were the ones who encouraged us to spend time together."

"… Yeah." Korra has no idea where Asami is going with this.

"I just want to say … you haven't always been my closest friend, but you've been my friend for longer than anyone else I've known. You didn't become my friend because circumstances kept us together—that's how it's always been for my friends at school. Unlike them, you were my friend by choice—it took effort to reach out and make plans and actually get together. And I never judged you for the things that other kids thought were weird—like being adopted, or being home-schooled. I just … it hurts that you're keeping secrets from me, and brushing off the boys and me when all we're trying to do is help. We're only concerned because we care about you as our friend."

Every sentence pulls up more of the guilt that Korra has tried to suppress since that first double date. Her friends have every right to feel hurt, and even more reasons to mistrust her than they are aware of.

"I'm sorry," she says truthfully. "I don't want you to think I don't care about you guys just as much as you do about me. I want what's best for you. That's just not in line with what you want from me."

Asami is still upset at this. "Now you're just talking in riddles."

"Sorry." Korra gropes for the right words to both console and convince her friend. She takes a deep breath, and makes a decision. "Look, the boys can't know anything. But if you want to know—well, you can't know the whole truth, but you can know part of it. I think you deserve that."

"Know and deserve what?"

"It's not really my place to tell you. It's your dad's place."

Asami blinks at her, bewildered. "My dad?"

"He's not who you think he is. He and my dad have a secret in common."

"What kind of secret?"

"Look, if I keep talking, I'm going to end up saying too much. Just … ask your dad to tell you the truth about his work. But don't mention me, or my dad. Things could turn out really badly if you do. I think you'll understand, if your dad decides to tell you the truth. But if he doesn't, it's probably better for us not to see each other, at least not for a while."

"If you say so." Asami reaches her hand through the gap, and Korra reaches back to hold it, palm to palm, like a handshake but with a stronger, more sincere grip. "Take care of yourself."

"You too. Tell the boys, it was nice knowing them."

"I will. Goodbye, Korra."

"Goodbye." Korra watches as Asami climbs down the fire escape and disappears around the corner, looking as reluctant as Mako was when he left her the night before. What happens next is beyond her control, and that brings her a strange sense of relief, because it spares her from having to make a decision herself. It is up to Asami to decide whether to ask for the truth, Hiroshi to decide whether to give it to her, and Asami again to decide how to act on the truth.

Music: "Dangerous to Know" by Hilary Duff