Disclaimer: I no own. Bryke own.
Word Count: 5,253
Author's Notes: 10/29/13. Happy almost Halloween! I'll be Batgirl at work for the kindergarteners on Thursday and then Rosie the Riveter Friday night for my parties. ;) Girl power, what up.

I was really hoping to have this whole story finished before the end of the month (NANOWRIMO IS ONLY DAYS AWAYYYY), but training for a marathon and real life-work have this habit of getting in the way. I've also had a couple of really busy weekends lined up—The Color Run in Providence, Rhode Island and The Blacklight Run and horseback riding and—so I just haven't had time to sit down and write very much lately. I've got an entire schedule laid out for NaNo, and have set time each day aside specifically for writing, so maybe I'll write bits and pieces of Personal Record in between as a way of giving myself "productive" NaNo-writing breaks, but... no promises.

Also, please note: I'm going to address this here, despite my best efforts not to, because most of what I'm about to say actually concerns guest reviews that are not associated with PM-capable FFNET pennames. If you are going to take the time to leave a review at the end of the chapter, first of all—thank you! Reading insightful reviews can sometimes be one of the quickest motivational tools I have for getting in the zone! Second of all, if you do decide to leave a comment, please do not simply demand an update. (Believe me, if I could write these chapters faster, I would.) You might be trying to encourage me by showing your excitement or your eagerness for more of the story, but flat-out demands really aren't all that inspirational after a long day of work or an exhausting run. Your messages may actually do more harm than good.

On a brighter note, it looks like this chapter has been split. Again. Which meeeeeans we've still got 4.97 and 5.0 left, good lord. :P Sometimes I just can't help myself.

Musical Inspiration: "Alone Together" by Fallout Boy.

Beta'd by ebonyquill and Rhi and Heather.

4.95

With a start, Korra darted backwards—ripped one hand away, for balance—while the other clenched tight around the sleeve still in her grasp, just below his elbow. Her eyes snapped to the trail in the woods, weight shifted to the balls of her feet, ready. Sight and smell and sound—her senses sharpened while her focus narrowed, and when Tahno's hand finally laid itself down upon hers—and it did, finally, quick and heavy and warm—it seemed less of a conscious decision, and more of a way to keep from falling over.

"Shit," she hissed, awareness flooding her brain, just as he stumbled forward and blinked down, expression bewildered. He seemed disoriented, but Korra was anything but. "Someone's coming," she whispered, just as he managed to open his mouth.

Eyes set determinedly on the path, Korra could only see from the peripherals the way that Tahno's eyes narrowed, the precise moment that he heard what she heard, the way his feet settled more firmly into the ground—his senses were not nearly as sharp, but he was alert, and his reaction time was quick. (The difference, Korra mused, in the split second that her instincts allowed her anything more than just see—act, was that she leaned toward, while he leaned away.) Korra waited, knowing that any attempt to hide now would be useless. Then the hold on her hand tightened.

"We should run," Tahno ordered. But Korra stood her ground; she shook her head, a quick movement in the dark, and then—she remembered herself and—snatched her wrist out of his grasp, sparing him a hard glance. (She felt the loss, immediately—the chill running through her fingers—but reality returned in its stead, and with it, her good sense.)

Her jaw set. "Not yet," she insisted.

He made to argue, and she narrowed her eyes, daring him to challenge her, but then his gaze darted to something beyond her ear, his focus sharpened, and Korra was still staring up at him when the sounds of crunching leaves and winded breath finally burst into the clearing—

"Oh... shit," said a familiar voice, a rush of air hissing from his mouth, expelled with all the quick, brutal force of a collapsing lung. "This is—this is even worse than I thought."

Korra spun on her heel, acutely aware of the tall figure at her back glaring at the unexpected guest; Tahno stood tensed and rigid, head held high, fists clenched tightly at his sides, stance poised to run, every inch of him a cornered animal. Korra swallowed, coughed down her own nerves, and stepped forward, ever-so-slightly. "Bolin," she said urgently, feeling the heat of Tahno radiate against the fabric of her shoulders, even from two feet away. Korra tried to capture her teammate's gaze, to speak with her eyes, but his focus was still locked on the person behind her. Bolin's chest was heaving with exertion, and she was still breathless, herself. "Bolin—look," she tried again, forcing her voice to travel clearly across the clearing between them. "I can—"

His eyes snapped to hers, awareness crashing back over his features in a wave of clarity. Korra blinked at the change, and felt her heart pound in her ears as his face morphed before her eyes, determined and severe. "Dammit, woman!" he hissed suddenly, striding forward. Instinctively, Korra shifted her weight, and it wasn't until her body was fully prepared for the defensive that her mind recognized the wrongness of it all, the fact that this was Bolin. "For the love of Pabu, would you check your damn phone for once!"

He stopped short of them, just five feet away, but Korra's mind was still reeling. "What are you talking about?" she managed, tensed but trying to relax, trying not to think of the warmth at her back, or the chill crawling down her spine.

"I have been looking everywhere for you!" he hissed, and it occurred to Korra then, that Bolin was keeping his voice low. "Shit's hitting the fan and you were nowhere to be found!"

"What?" Korra whispered, reeling. The awareness of the presence behind her was borderline painful now, but still, Korra demanded, "What are you—?"

"We don't have time for chit-chat," Bolin said hastily, striding forward, focusing his attention on her. "I slipped away while the others were distracted, but someone's bound to have seen me, and they're gonna want to know where I ran off to—soon. And they'll be coming in here, too, whether to look for me or to follow the trail or see if I've found anything—"

"Who?" Korra snapped, although many different versions of two-and-two had already been very clearly put together in her mind. "Who will?"

But Bolin wasn't looking at her anymore.

"Dude," he grimaced, blinking up through the shadows. He was frowning at the Wolverine King. "What happened to your face?"

Tahno looked murderous.

"Bolin!" Korra snapped quickly, diverting his attention back to her. "It doesn't matter! What the hell is going on? How did you know where I'd gone? Who's looking for you?"

"Oh, shit," his eyes widened. "It was you, wasn't it? You punched him?" His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Why?"

"Bolin—not now!" Korra hissed, snapping her fingers at his face in another attempt to get the answers she needed—before any other punches could be thrown. "What the hell is going on!"

Bolin sobered quickly. Expression hardening, he straightened himself and announced, unmistakably: "Pep rally's over. The Wolverines showed up."

Korra could feel Tahno stiffening behind her, much the same way that she felt her own spine snap tight, and she swerved, rearing back to glare at him. Her lip curled, hard and unforgiving. "You said you weren't with them!"

Tahno reared back as well, affronted and surprised. "I'm not!" he spat harshly.

"Then what the hell are they doing here?"

His expression turned gruesome. "Just because I wasn't gonna lead them here doesn't mean someone else wouldn't!"

"So you knew that they were coming?"

"Uh. Hey, guys—?"

"What did you expect?" Tahno snapped. "I told you they wanted revenge!"

"Guys—!"

"And for the record—not that you fucking care—I did talk to them!" he defended hotly. "This is the result! I talked them down from what they were originally planning to do, which was even fucking worse."

"So you know what they're going to do!" Korra snarled. "What they're doing!"

"I don't exactly have the plans folded up in my back pocket, no!"

"Then enlighten me with what you do know, Captain," she snarled, and Tahno sneered. "What do they bother to tell you?"

"People, this is really not what's fuckingimportantrightnow!" Bolin urged harshly, his tone taking on a slightly hysterical note, even as he reprimanded them. "Just tell me that your stupid plan includes getting the hell out of dodge for chrissake because we don't know where the rest of the Wolverines ran off to and the Fire Foxes are like, very likely literally on their way."

"For what?" Korra demanded impatiently, resisting the urge to take Bolin by the shoulders and shake him, simply because he was closest. (But he wasn't. Closest. Not actually. The closest person, at the moment, was—) Korra sucked in a deep breath, feeling pins prick behind her eyes, and forced herself to calm down. "Bolin, what are they after?"

He paused. And then Bolin shifted a meaningful glance to Tahno, who said nothing, then back to Korra.

Korra blinked, twice.

"Motherfuckers," she whispered, appalled.

Tahno rolled his eyes with an impatient huff. "You really surprised, new girl?" he asked condescendingly. "Are you forgetting that you just jumped to the same conclusion the Foxes did?" he reminded her, and she winced. (She knew better. She really did. She didn't know why she was acting this way or what was making her lose all sight of rational thinking or—) Tahno shrugged, an unfazed air lingering over resentful eyes, and he said, "I'm not exactly a beacon of inter-school spirit, here."

"This is—such bullshit!" Korra snapped, to no one in particular. "How far are people going to go before they realize that this rivalry keeps getting taken too fucking far!"

"Ahh—hopefully not as far as you're about to run, which you should be doing," Bolin insisted pointedly. "Now."

"They can't do this!" Korra growled, feeling heat rise in her chest all over again. "Why isn't anyone putting a stop to this? Where are the—?"

"What? Coaches? The teachers?" Tahno asked slowly, that same edge to that same callous drawl. "You mean like Yakone?"

Korra rounded on him, so quickly that she nearly collided with his shoulder. "What did you say?" she breathed.

Tahno's lips tightened into a thin line, harsh and grim. She was still staring at him, brain spiking with a burning need to know, when Bolin strode closer and said, very quickly, "Korra, if anyone sees you with him—"

"They'll what?" Korra snapped harshly, rounding back on Bolin, though Tahno's words still rang clearly in her mind, a deafening, suffocating weight to the pressure caving in her skull. "They'll what, exactly?"

Bolin frowned, and shifted uncomfortably on the path, obviously dying to get a move on. "Korra, now is not the time. I understand why you're upset—I don't like the rivalry anymore than you do!—but you have to think about the team!"

Korra stared at him, jaw dropping with disbelief and disappointment. "You were the one to told me to screw them! To not care about what they think!"

"Well, yeah—but not on Homecoming!" he cried, desperate for her understanding. "Don't you get it? No one's in their right mind during Homecoming, for chrissake!"

Bolin glared meaningfully at her, a solid force in her path, and Korra stared at him, heart thumping wildly in her chest. Shit, she realized. Stamping down the growl lodged in her throat, thrumming with resignation, she bit out a frustrated hiss and then, more fiercely, "Fine."

But before either one could answer her, Bolin turned to Tahno, movements quick and jerky, voice clear. "Did you run here?"

Tahno scowled. "Does it look like I ran here?"

Bolin stared at Tahno just as dryly. "How am I supposed to know, man?" he challenged reasonably, a bit impatiently. "You're crazy enough to be here in the first place—maybe you'd be crazy enough to run here, too."

"My car is parked on the other side of the woods," Tahno snapped. "Down the road."

Shit, Korra thought, as it really started to hit her—the position that they were in. (Shit!) With barely a thought at all, Korra turned to Tahno and fiercely demanded, "How quickly can you get out of here?"

Tahno blinked in surprise. "Me?" he asked, one eyebrow quirking disbelievingly. "You mean we."

Korra's mind spiked white. "No," she corrected, staunchly ignoring the surge of panic that had set her alight when he'd looked into her eyes and said we. "You're the one they're looking for—just get the hell out here, before somebody sees you."

"What, so you can run back with your teammate and physically prove that you've been out here all along?"

"What the hell would that matter?" Korra demanded, brows furrowing.

"Wait, Korra," Bolin said seriously, placing a firm hand over her shoulder. (Korra didn't miss Tahno's quiet glare.) "He has a point. I went into the woods alone—to look for you—you weren't by the bleachers anymore and I just, I just figured—and someone's bound to have seen me, and the only natural place to just assume where any of the Wolverines will run off to escape is through the woods, and if I come back with you, people are gonna assume that you were up to something or—or something."

Korra stared at him, flabbergasted. "Are you kidding me? What would I even be doing?"

Two pairs of eyes stared down at her, awkwardly; the pause of weighty silence that followed made her cheeks burn.

"Okay! Never fucking mind that!" she snapped, fighting down her embarrassment, distracting as it was. "What if I was just out for a walk?" she challenged, just for the sake of pride and the principle of the matter.

Tahno rolled his eyes as Bolin leveled her with a dry look and said, "Really? On Homecoming night?"

Korra was more than prepared to continue arguing, but Tahno cut her off with an impatient growl.

"Enough wasting time," he snapped. "Are you coming or not?"

The anger on his face was a little startling—especially when she realized that it wasn't anger at all; it was hurt, and annoyance, and it was because of the way she'd been treating him, this whole night, and plenty of the ones that came before it. She looked at him, and he looked at her.

Korra turned on her heel and set apologetic eyes on her teammate. "Bolin," she said quietly, a barest trace of a plea. "I'm sorry. Can you cover for me?"

Bolin nodded immediately, but Korra felt herself begin to move even before that. Through a sigh, he looked away—back towards the path they'd come—and then he jerked forward and shooed them with his hands, muttering, "Just promise to check your phone from now on! And actually text me when you make it out!"

She didn't bother to respond, already intent on the opposite path that led farther into the woods—hopefully to some helpful point of destination on the other side—already stepping forward, with Tahno right beside her. The pounding that had drummed against her ears returned with a vengeance, and it spurred her forward. She took a shaky breath, and on the last step before she and Tahno took off into the thick of trees beyond the clearing, in that suspended moment in time when a burst of energy is about to explode into action—into movement—Korra looked back—just for a moment—to hiss out a thank you—

And froze.

Tahno skidded to a halt on the dirt, two paces ahead, and swerved back around. She could hear his movements. (She could even imagine it, on some level, the way his mouth probably opened—to scold her, to urge her forward.) But she couldn't have known his expression, not truly.

She couldn't see his face.

(Because all she could see was a pair of golden eyes, burning in the dark, framed by disbelief.)

There, at the opposite edge of the clearing, at the mouth of the path leading to the football field, stood two tall figures, clothed in black and red. (One stood rigid with shock, fists tight with nerves, while the other's eyes widened, mouth opened with wordless surprise, and then realization washed over the both of them, in a visible wave of anger and alarm and Korra, what have you done?)

"Mako," Asami—Asami!—said quickly, a quiet, urgent warning laced through the gentleness of her voice, and her hand latched tightly, cautiously over his arm. "Mako, wait—"

"The hell is this?" he asked, narrowed eyes locked directly with Korra's. (His voice was calm. His voice was calm and that was worse, so much worse, because Mako didn't do calm—he raged and burned and flew off the handle.)

When Korra didn't say anything—when no one said anything—Bolin glanced nervously between his brother and the pair at the outset of the clearing, frantic thoughts spinning in his green eyes. "Dude, we know how this looks," he said quickly, raising two placating hands. Mako glanced at him, briefly, almost as if he didn't recognize him, as if he hadn't realized that he was even there. Bolin's voice was strong, but under the withering stare of his older brother, his strength began to waver. "And we know it looks... bad."

"Mako," Asami tried, as the tension of his frame grew more visible. Bolin swallowed uncomfortably, but Asami kept her cool, kept her eyes on the goal. "If you just let them explain—"

Mako pulled his arm away from her, slow but firm, and Asami let it go, watching his profile with careful eyes. Korra breathed deeply, tried to get oxygen to her lungs, but every intake of air felt like a blast of needles. (When his gaze left hers, Korra felt a sinking in her stomach like a punch to the gut, and when it landed on Tahno's, it was like a spike to her brain.)

Eyes narrowed, mouth grim; his expression—all of him, every last inch of him—severe. Mako strode forward and Asami followed and Bolin tensed and Korra felt her chest go numb. And still Tahno stood, behind her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Mako demanded, low and dangerous, as the true traces of his anger began to surface.

She could hear the soft shuffle of fabric of a shrug from behind her, and tensed, prepared for the worst. "An evening stroll," Tahno said simply, though it wasn't difficult to detect the bitter, sardonic edge.

Mako's frown tightened. "Isn't that a bit difficult for you these days?" he asked pointedly. "I hear suspension can make getting up on one's feet pretty difficult." (Tahno stiffened and she felt it, and she knew he was already near his breaking point, like a cord ready to snap, raw and exposed and frayed.) "You think this is the place for you to do that?" he jabbed.

"Mako—he's not here with them," Korra cut in harshly, voice rather strong for someone who'd been rendered speechless for the past minute and a half. It was clear and it was direct, and unashamed. "He has nothing to do with—"

"I asked you a question," Mako said clearly, talking over Korra's attempt to explain. "What makes you think you're welcome here?"

"What makes you think I'm planning to stick around?" Tahno asked, just as edgily. "Lucky for you, I was already on my way out before you decided to show up."

"Like you can just stroll in and out of Fire Fox territory whenever you feel like it?" Mako asked, barely containing himself. "After the shit you pulled last Saturday?"

Tahno's mouth tightened, but he said nothing. Korra gaped at him from below. Why aren't you defending yourself? she wanted to scream at him. Why don't you just tell him the truth?

Fuck this.

"He didn't do it," Korra hissed, her breath a fierce bite on the wind. "I'm telling you, he didn't—"

"Get the hell out of here, Wolverine," Mako said, mouth curving into a sneer. "Unless you're looking for another round. And this time, you'll be facing down all of us. Just you. Not just some cheap coward's trick with a couple of metal spikes."

Tahno's jaw tightened. "Coward," he repeated quietly, as if testing the word on his tongue. "That's a new one."

Mako's scowl deepened. "I've got plenty more," he promised, as he shifted forward, and Tahno mirrored him, springing the others into action, tense and coiled and edgy. Asami was on Mako's right and Bolin on his left, and Korra was still in front of Tahno—by just a hair—and her eyes kept flying back and forth, but the captains saw nothing else, nothing but each other—nothing but years of hatred and anger and resentment.

"You can't even stand at the front of your little pack—you fight dirty when no one's watching, and even now, you send your dogs out to do your dirty work while you hang back here in the shadows!"

"You Fire Ferrets are twice the dogs a Wolverine could ever be," Tahno drawled spitefully. "Your little obedient packs with your hopeless training, and you, the head bitch of them all."

Mako surged forward as Asami reached out, placing both hands on his chest, and Bolin took hold of Mako's waist, swearing beneath his breath with exertion. Tahno's stance had not moved, haughty and unrepentant as Mako struggled in his teammates' grasps. Mako's head reared back, his breath coming out in hot, shaking puffs, and he looked up at Tahno, with unadulterated loathing, with unrestrained disgust. He jerked his shoulder forward, but Bolin wouldn't let go.

"Tell us, Tahno," he spat, like the name was coated with acid, with blood. "Just how many other races have you cheated in?"

Tahno's haughty expression dissolved.

"Go ahead," he challenged darkly, and Korra's breathing quickened. "Say that again," Tahno offered, the warning painfully clear. "I dare you."

"Mako," Asami hissed, pressing him back, but he wasn't listening. Korra dug her heels into the ground.

"What?" Mako asked, a level of snide to his voice that Korra had never heard before. His eyes were bright with hatred. "You actually think you earned what you've got?"

Warning bells rang through Korra's mind. (Wait. Why does that sound so—?)

"Shit!" hissed Korra, as she lunged forward to block Tahno's path. Tahno rammed into her shoulder, nearly toppling her over, and her heels collided with Bolin's as he struggled to keep Mako back, but her stance was strong and—between the two of them, digging into the ground, bending the very earth beneath their feet—they were able to keep them back, just barely. With an enormous shove, Korra pushed Tahno away, trying to put as much distance between him and the others as possible. When he stumbled back, and stood upright—when Mako escaped Bolin's hold, and Asami dropped back, and Mako lunged forward again—

Korra was waiting.

Mako froze, staring down at the sight before him, as if he were only just realizing on which side of the clearing Korra stood. (Which side was she on?) He was panting, hot breath curling into the cold night air, the lines of his brow severe as they settled over his eyes, the deep lines pulling them downward. Bolin and Asami flanked his sides, and jerked forward as if to hold him back once more, but Mako was a statue, staring down at the small figure in front of him, the one shielding the Wolverine captain at her back.

She was glaring, but could feel a quiver running down her spine. Her mouth was firm, her jaw was set, but she feared that if she were to release it, even for a mere second, the pressure would give way and it would waver, and the rest of her would follow and fall apart.

At first, it was just the anger holding her together—the disappointment, the frustration—but moments passed, and the heavy cloud of adrenaline began to sharpen, and soon Korra saw that what was once only rage in his face was now confusion, was now hurt, was betrayal. (And she looked up into those golden eyes and remembered the way they'd looked at her—in a library between the endless stacks, in the dark of an empty classroom, or in the warmth of a car beneath a willow tree—and refused to swallow, for fear that the lump in her throat would be too much.)

"What are you doing?" he asked her, a careful whisper. Like no one else could hear. (And maybe it didn't matter, whether they could or not.)

Finally, Korra swallowed. Her eyes begged for understanding, but her voice held no room for negotiation. "This rivalry is ridiculous," Korra said plainly, feeling her heart pound in her ears. "It's gone too far."

Mako stared at her another moment, struck with disbelief. And then he scoffed, and the connection was broken, and his burning eyes turned cold. "This isn't just about a school rivalry," Mako corrected, raising his gaze to meet the one behind her. "This runs a lot deeper than that."

She could feel the tension at her back, the quiet, skittish, feral energy coursing behind her, but it was becoming clear to Korra that this—any of this—couldn't end any way other than badly. Bolin was right; there may have been a time for diplomacy and understanding, but this wasn't it.

"What are you even defending him for?" Mako asked, voice clear and sharp. "Do you even know who this guy is?"

Tahno scoffed, harsh and derisive. "What?" he asked, with a cruel twist to his smirk. "You really don't know?"

Korra's brain exploded with disbelief—she half-turned to Tahno, ready to shut your mouth and what the hell do you think you're doing?—but she was was hesitant to turn away from Mako, even for a second—

"Know what?" Mako demanded lowly, eyes narrowed.

"About our little weekend jogs," Tahno drawled, almost flippant. "We've become a little something of running buddies. Wouldn't you say, Korra?"

She did turn toward him now, glaring fiercely. When Mako scoffed, Korra's stomach dropped—she turned back to see his reaction, but Mako wasn't looking at her.

"Get real," he spat dismissively. "Now get lost, cheater. Just—get the hell out of here and leave us alone, before you cause any more trouble."

Tahno shifted his jaw. He looked suspiciously like he was biting his cheek. "With pleasure," he enunciated, clear and resentful. He returned his gaze to Korra, and jerked his head to the path. "Let's go."

Tahno stepped back, obviously ready to move, but Korra hesitated; Mako's eyes had snapped down to hers, and she looked up at him, fighting with her words. He was staring at her, waiting for an explanation. Everyone was staring at her.

"What?"

Korra's mouth opened, but it was a moment before anything came out. "I'm sorry," she rushed out, feeling all the painful inadequacy of it all. Her feet knew that they should move, that they had to get out of there—now—but Mako's gaze was still locked on hers, with all the pain and disbelief and anger and—

She could see the precise moment when realization lit his eyes.

"He was serious," Mako whispered, eyes widening. "That you... That you've been..."

Korra nodded, swallowing thickly. She let out a meager, "Yeah."

His face was startlingly unreadable. "How long?" he demanded, voice quiet.

"A couple of weeks," she answered truthfully, around the lump in her throat. Slowly, Mako's eyes sparked with understanding.

It's him, his eyes said. (It's him.)

Mako swerved to the side suddenly, as if he were about to retch. Bolin held out a steadying hand and Asami tried to place a hand on his other shoulder, but he didn't seem to be aware that either of them were even there. Korra longed to reach out to him too, but knew, completely, just how impossible that really was.

"Him?" Mako spat, once he'd regained enough composure.

Korra swallowed again, feeling her throat well up. "Mako," she tried, feeling herself begin to fray. "It didn't start out this way. I was never a part of this stupid rivalry. I didn't have the same prejudices you did—"

"But him, Korra?" Mako spat again, refusing to look at the figure standing behind her. He still looked like he was going to be sick. "Fucking—with him? The only thing he cares about is revenge! He's only been hanging around with you—for however fucking long—because he thinks you'll give him information on the team—"

Korra's eyes widened. "We've never even mentioned—"

"Don't flatter yourself, ferret. You are last place I would ever be trying to steal pointers from."

"You fucking—"

"Mako—Tahno—shut up!" Korra burst out, thrusting her hands outwards, senses tingling with the rise in danger on either side. "This is high school cross-country for fuck's sake—not a national championship! He's not stealing anything from us!"

Mako looked down at her, coldly; heat so hot it burned cold, flames of disappointment and betrayal shining brightly in his eyes. His voice was hard and meaningful. "Isn't he?"

Indignation roared loudly in her ears.

Bolin swooped forward, and that's when Korra heard it—the faint shuffling from off in the distance, somewhere near the entry point to the woods by the field. Shit, she thought, just as Bolin pulled at his brother's shoulder: "Come on, man—we gotta at least take this elsewhere. The others are gonna be here any minute and—"

Mako rounded on them, Bolin and Asami, expression cut with betrayal. "You knew about this?" he demanded.

Bolin shifted uncertainly, but Asami stood firm, peering directly into his glare. "Korra is our friend, too," she reminded him clearly, voice sympathetic but remorseless. "She needed our help, so we gave it."

He huffed, and the betrayal over his face squeezed at Korra's heart. "Great," he whispered. "So, you've all been in this together, then."

Asami's face fell, eyes softening. "Mako... This isn't about you. This had nothing to do with—"

"Are you—are you fucking kidding me?" he demanded harshly, unevenly, disbelief lending a wild spark to his eyes. "You're telling me that I'm—I'm supposed to believe—that after ten years—"

"Mako—"

"I had his spikes embedded in my fucking leg!"

"Mako, don't you get it?" Asami snapped, while Korra and Bolin and Tahno watched from the sidelines, speechless. "You have been so blinded by your hatred of one another, you're unwilling to see it any other way!"

"The investigation—"

"Means nothing," Asami cut in harshly, eyes glowing and fierce. Korra stood still, entranced. "Until a decision has been made public, everything is still speculation, and you know that. And if anyone sees Tahno here, the whole outcome could be skewed."

"You really want to let him get away? The head of the pack?" Mako growled. "He stands for everything we despise!"

"Then save your fight for another day, if you need to," Asami snapped back, brilliant green gaze glowing in the dark. Hard. Challenging. Concerned. She looked at Mako with knowing, pleading eyes, and said, "But this isn't just about you, and right now, timing is everything."

Mako and Asami stared at one another, locked in a silent battle of wills. Then, almost as quickly as it began, Mako's jaw flexed and he looked away, expression tight with frustration and injustice and a lifetime of always getting the short end of the stick. When Mako looked at Korra, his eyes were heavy with defeat. Quietly, he asked her, "You'd really pick a Wolverine over your own teammates?"

Korra frowned, but held her chin high, and kept her eyes open and unreserved. "I'm not about to pick a side, Mako."

Sure, his eyes said. Right.

She wanted to argue—to prove that she was telling the truth—this could work, this could work, this could—but noises from not too far down along the path startled them, snapping five alert gazes toward the patch of woods leading back to the field.

"Balls!" hissed Bolin, who began to hop in place with anxiety and tension and frustration. "Fire Foxes on the move!"

Korra's gaze met Mako's—a lightning-speed movement that lasted forever—with uncertainty painted thick over her face, but his decision was etched clearly in his eyes, before he even turned back around.

"What the hell are you waiting for, then?" he asked her, not quite a demand, not quite an order. "Go," he told her, eyes blank and unreadable. "Get out of here."

Tahno didn't need to be told twice, but Korra felt off. (This wasn't how she'd expected things to go. This wasn't what she'd wanted.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.)

"Korra, it's all right," came Asami's voice, breaking through her overwhelming thoughts, urging her forward. "We'll figure it out."

"Korra," Mako said, voice firm. He could have been speaking as her captain. (Or maybe as her friend.) Or maybe, more likely, as something completely unrelated to the two (as someone who knew it would never be the same, who knew it was the end, the end, the end), but she was listening, now, more intently than she ever had before.

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"Run," he told her.

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So they did.

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