Don't have an awful lot to say-episode was amazing today, thank you all for your attention to this story, and reviews are appreciated but not required!

FOUR

In the morning—or the middle of the night, or the middle of the day—Amon rose, using her to push himself up. The scratches she'd given him the first night were no longer as red. A fresh, feebler scratch accompanied them, bright red.

"I hope you understand that I'm displeased," he said dispassionately, tossing the covers behind him. She pulled them over her head, and he yanked them back, an unusually vehement movement for him. Curling into the foetal position, she refused to look at him. "I thought that we were making progress, Korra." Hearing her name was like a punch in the gut. She tried to breathe smoothly. "I was willing to make concessions, Korra. I was willing to allow some excessive behaviour in the first few days.

"Sit up," he ordered, standing over her. Slowly, painfully, she acquiesced. With a firm grip on her chin—all alone and surrounded by Equalists, he came out of the darkness—he twisted the angle of her head to look at him, and when she refused to look directly into his face he tightened the grip until she managed to fixate her eyes on the scratches.

"You will never attack me again." Resenting him, hating everything and above all afraid, she nodded with what little freedom of movement she had. "I don't have time to discipline your friends today, but next time you defy me like this, I will have one of them killed. Is that clear?" When she nodded again, he released her as violently as to almost throw her away, and moved away as if nothing had happened. "Good. You're seeing a tailor today so that you have clothes you can be seen publically in. You yourself, however," he said poisonously, turning on the shower on, "are another matter."

She stared at the wall uncomprehendingly, pulling the blankets over her head until everything disappeared from view and the world shrank to just her and the space between her skin and the fabric.

She needed someone right now. She wasn't sure if she could bear anyone to touch her, but maybe just someone to hold onto her hand and anchor her to the world. She alternately bitterly between highs of anger where she played it out in her head again and again, trying to decipher what she could have done to change it—hidden in the bathroom until he went to sleep, talked to distract him—and lows of despondency where just for moments at a time she thought she might deserve it for failing the world.

At one point, she lashed out without thinking as if to clear her head and hit the bed. A torrent of anger unleashed from nowhere, she punched the mattress again and again, her breath coming in quiet, painful shrieks until she heard the dreadful noise of something having ripped between her hands. It was the sheet. She'd ripped the sheet. What if he noticed? What if he thought that it was sabotage? Panicking, she got up off the bed and wandered around the room frantically looking for another set of sheets. In her fervour she bodily pulled out one of the drawers and spent a full minute kicking it across the room.

She didn't really know how to change a bed. After moments of staring at it, fumbling with it, she got the sheet off, and attempted to put the other on. The first time round it was inside out. The second time she was so desperate and afraid that he'd come back that she hit her head twice on two different posts of the four poster bed. It didn't look good when she'd finished. It looked awful. In the hope that it would camouflage the mess, she spread the cover on top and tried to make that look neat instead. Minutes were lost to almost mindless smoothing, creating new wrinkles every time no matter how even she tried to make it.

Breathing hard, she sat down in the middle of the room and turned over her hands in her lap. Sitting still was unbearable. Instead, she got up and rattled off a few kicks, a few punches. She felt feverish and charged, unable to remain still for more than a few seconds. Mindlessly, she ran through all the basic forms she knew, then through some of the more advanced ones, and then through a few of the very difficult ones. Without having properly warmed up and the effect on her unfuelled, out of shape body, pain caught up very quickly. Her legs began to feel like lead, and her arms as if they weighed tons. She refused to stop, moving frenetically around the room fighting an invisible enemy.

When she realised that she was crying, she stopped, and sat down in the middle of the floor, and curled up into a ball, and let herself cry. Her insides felt like they were breaking, and she wondered if this was how Mako and Bolin and Tenzin and Lin and the children felt like after their torture, the children. Thinking of them solidified the misery lodged permanently in her chest, and Korra just couldn't bear it any more. She dragged her nails down her own arms, breath hitching and shrieking in her throat, on the verge of something, something—

Something clicked and for a second, her eyes glowed luminously.

"Hello, young Avatar," a kindly voice said, and she nearly jumped a mile. Sniffing, breathing in, choking a little on her own snot, she wiped her eyes and looked up at a man who must be Avatar Aang as he would have looked, presumably forty-two years ago. He sat cross-legged by her side, his face compassionate, composed with tempered understanding. "Korra, I should say," he added, giving her a gentle smile. She wiped her nose, feeling totally ashamed, the massive hard ball of desolation popped like a balloon and rolled slowly to sitting, pulling her knees right up to her chest. She wasn't ready to speak yet. "It's good to finally meet you, though I do wish the circumstances were better. I'm Avatar Aang, your predecessor."

"You really look like Tenzin," Korra said, trying to regain her old carefree attitude. This was Aang. This was the man who had been the boy who had ended the Hundred Years War, and she was crying like a child in front of him. "Or… I guess, Tenzin looks like you. Sorry," she added. She must sound like an idiot.

Aang laughed, and for a moment she could see the child he had been in the boyish expression. "He always was compared to me, especially as an airbender. Our legacy, mine and Katara's, it was a hard one to grow up with, for our children..." He looked at her, his smile more wistful. "It's not only their legacy that's been hard… I meant to bring balance to the world, but it seems I left you a world as difficult as Roku left me. I understand if you don't really want to talk to me."

"Oh, no, no," Korra said, shocked. "Of course I want to talk to you—you're Avatar Aang, you ended the war when you were just a kid, you founded Republic City—of course I want to talk to you. And," she added, looking down, "I just want to… talk to someone."

"I founded Republic City as a place where people of all nations could live in harmony. I was complacent after in my victory in the war. I made so many mistakes. I'm so, so sorry that you have to take all of them on. The council, the Triads—and you're not much older than I was, and you've been sheltered all your life. Another mistake."

"I didn't mind it too much," she offered awkwardly. This man, apologising to her? She didn't deserve it. "I had people. You didn't have anyone…" His expression became bittersweet, and she couldn't help but give him a tiny smile of her own.

"You don't need to comfort me, Korra," he said, straightening his robes. "What do you need?"

She bit her lip, unsure now that she'd got this far. "About… my… bending," she said, nearly whispering. "Amon took it. He took my bending. I can't bend any more. Does that mean that I'm not the Avatar anymore? Was it what you did to Ozai? I just… I know I need to fight Amon and restore balance to Republic City, but I don't know if I can do it without my bending." She waited, turning over the shirt's hem in her hands.

"Whatever Amon did to you, it's not energy-bending. But you are still the Avatar. My being here means you're still the Avatar. And that means that you still have the power to bring balance to the world." Aang frowned, and rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, tangling his fingers in his beard. "I can't be sure, it's not really my area of expertise, but it's almost as if—" Korra leaned forward eagerly, seeing the thoughtful expression on his face—

The door opened. She jumped, the surprise knocking her off balance and sprawling onto her back. The sense of calm that had been blissfully present while Aang had been present vanished and she waited, wary. A woman came through the door, bowed so shallowly as to be insulting, and looked at Korra with an expression that bespoke dislike barely covered by rigid manners, which were quickly slipping. "Please come with me," she drawled. Korra got to her feet, head spinning; Aang was gone, she noted worriedly. She had no way of knowing whether she could get him back again. But it had been good to talk. The fear and rage that had been swamping her had subsided to the point where she no longer felt the need to scream and rip things apart.

She still felt twitchy; enough to shove back when the woman bumped her shoulder 'accidentally' on the way out of the door. For a second, they sized each other up coolly, and the Equalist sighed. "Whatever," she muttered. "Let's get this over with. Don't try anything," she warned Korra as they stepped into the corridor. Korra was too busy looking around her, feeling how cool the air was out here on her skin compared to the stuffy, stale air in his rooms. It was… uncomfortable, though. She couldn't place it exactly, but as they moved away from the rooms she became more ill at ease. She wasn't sure, but she thought her breathing might be coming more difficultly. When she tried to practice the deep breathing Tenzin had taught her for meditation, her chest constricted until she nearly gasped.

This had never happened to her before—what was it? Why was it happening now? She should be scoping the place out, trying to remember where everything was, and instead she was becoming increasingly dizzy with the short, panicked breaths she was managing to take in. Her heart was beating fast as well, uncommonly quickly, and Korra bit the inside of her mouth in an attempt to steady herself. It didn't help. It just hurt. The woman was getting further and further ahead, not even bothering to check that Korra was behind her. That hurt as well. It hurt her pride. She was the Avatar, and they only sent one guard to deal with her.

She itched to escape right there, the thought of giving them the slip and disappearing simply racketing up her heartbeat until it was pounding in her ears. Her fingers twitched involuntarily, itching to move and take down that arrogant, stupid stinking Equalist who didn't even consider her a threat without her bending. I know more than bending, she wanted to shout, digging her nails into her sides to try and focus herself. The corridor was beginning to slide about a little bit in a way that she was sure wasn't natural.

This space was just… too big, it was too open. As much as she hated his rooms, they were encapsulated. She hadn't been outside them in days, and she'd been taught to fear the door, and fear the shock it brought, but she'd wanted to be outside the door because it represented that gap between the inside and the outside and now she was outside it and she couldn't even breathe. And, she reminded herself, and if she escaped now she didn't know her way around. She couldn't save her friends, or get out, and it would break down so quickly and security would be tightened and he would hurt her.

All the same, as she walked along dizzily practically panting to try and take in air, one hand to her chest, she imagined taking out the Equalist again and again. A blow to the back of the head was risky but quick. Pressure points she wasn't so good on, but she knew a few that would knock someone right out. Something flashier that might allow dangerous fighting back, the louder moves that she knew just to feel alive for a while.

Whatever she had expected, it hadn't been rows of bolts of fabric, different materials hanging about, patterns on the walls. The woman turned to her, arms crossed, expression unhappy, gesturing around irritably. "We're giving you a wardrobe. Stand on that square in the middle of the room." Of course. She'd already forgotten what he'd said that morning. Of course.

A couple of assistants came forward who seemed to know what they were doing. Korra stepped mutely onto the square, staring at the wall, preparing herself for a boring and tedious few hours. At least that weird breathing thing had finally stopped. As long as she didn't really think about it, she could breathe easily again.

She nearly hit the first person to touch her, his fingers cool on her skin, steadying a measuring tape. He looked up at her fearfully, eyes wide, and she realised that this was not an Equalist but an ordinary tailor hired to make her clothes. He was not Amon. He needed to measure her. It was his job. Even so, she dug her fingernails into her skin as those fingers moved over her impersonally and gently. When there was a quiet request for her to lift her arms up, she did so burning with indignity. Measuring her bust was worse—nails in her shoulders, buried underneath the weight, unable to move—and she had to grit her teeth.

"We've got your measurements," the tailor said quietly, the measuring tape snapping back. "You may return, and we'll begin work immediately, Avatar." The woman, lounging in a corner and looking utterly bored, snorted.

"Not the Avatar anymore," she said, looking at Korra. Korra refused to meet her eyes, her temper stretched and stretched to the point where she suspected breaking point was not far off. She couldn't afford to attack this woman. Not right now. She could save it for the future. Think of how satisfying it would be then, think of it then… It was nearly painful to suppress her anger, which seemed to have been growing and growing in the past few days until it felt as if it might be threatening to consume her.

"Ex-Avatar," the tailor said, giving her a deep bow. He tugged on his cap to her, and scurried away under the displeased gaze of the Equalist.

"Let's go," she said, unfolding herself and striding off. "And pray I never get stuck with babysitting you ever again. Help the ex-Avatar get clothes. It's a revolutionary job. Right," she said, disgusted, "right."

"Asami!" Korra hadn't planned to blurt it out, but it had spilled forth; she'd seen that hair on the other side of the hall already moving away, seen her chance and not thought about it. The Equalist shepherding her turned around, exasperated.

"Don't make this difficult," she warned, hands on her hips, brushing a stray piece of hair that had escaped her bun. "This doesn't have to be difficult." Korra ignored her, craning her neck to see Asami in the distance. Was she pretending not to hear?

"Asami!" she called again, trying to sound friendly. It came out desperately, but she supposed that was what she was. "Asami!" Finally, the other girl turned around, unable to pretend that she couldn't hear anymore. Her face, drawn and pale, fell when she saw Korra looking right at her. Breathing reluctance, she walked over. The Equalist sighed, sounding resigned more than aggravated at this point.

"Whatever, have your chat," she said, crossing her arms again and leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. "You have five minutes and then we're going back so I'm rid of you. Five minutes, do you hear me?"

"Sure," Korra said distantly, running her dry tongue over her teeth nervously. What was she going to say? She hadn't thought that far ahead. She couldn't afford to mess up this chance… act like real friends, maybe. Pretend… pretend Asami was a younger version of Katara, or something. They were friends, she chanted in her head. They were good friends. This wasn't weird at all. Steeling herself for the discomfort that would follow, she launched herself in a fairly enthusiastic hug at Asami. "Hey," she said, focusing on talking to Katara. "It's been ages!" Blessedly, Asami went along with it after one awkward moment that felt like an age, patting Korra on the back without a trace of stiffness.

"Hi Korra," she said warmly. Her expression seemed genuinely glad, but Korra could see the traces of guilt in the tiny frown and the new creases in her forehead that hadn't been there before. "It has been a while, hasn't it? I haven't seen anyone; I miss it. I don't suppose you've had much contact?" She means Mako? Probably not just Mako, but everyone. Her spirits rose, taking comfort that it seemed like she'd made the right decision about Asami, however much she'd resented the other girl at first. All that seemed unbearably foolish now, childish and thoughtless.

"I haven't been out much. I don't think anyone else has either," she said, hoping that her Equalist guard just wasn't paying a lot of attention. She was hopeless at speaking in code. "Last time I saw them they were looking a bit rough… they uh, haven't adjusted yet, I don't think. Maybe you should… go see them…" She rubbed at the back of her neck and bit her lip. "How have you been?"

"Okay," Asami replied, her smile strained but kind. "I hope you've been doing all right… I couldn't be there, but I heard about your marriage." Korra looked up again as if she'd been kicked in the stomach, the expression on her face nakedly afraid and small before she managed to control it and return it to something tense but largely neutral. She missed Asami's reaction; the surprise, the quick flickering of emotions reflecting a rapid thought process, and the settling into solid determination.

"I—" Korra began, a wobble hitching her voice unusually high. She was immediately cut off by Asami, who placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Korra didn't flinch away from it, the contact feeling safe.

"It's been far too long," Asami said firmly, "and we shouldn't let it go for so long next time. I'll discuss it with my father, and you should mention it to our leader. Oh, come here, you look thin; have they been feeding you enough?" She held open her arms, and Korra walked into them as surrender, her eyes tearing up ever so slightly. Their first hug had been undeniably businessnesslike; this was warm, and kind, and affectionate. To her surprise, Asami leaned in, right to her ear, and whispered—at first, Korra missed the words, her brain only managing to process them after they'd been spoken—"It's not permanent. It's your head."

It wasn't permanent… what wasn't permanent? This situation? Her thinness? It was all in her head? Asami gradually disengaged from the hug, accompanying it with a smile, and gently punched Korra in the shoulder, giving her a subtle wink. Korra's tired mind tried to process what were clearly clues—and it clicked. It hit her like an electric shock. It must be bending, with that punch—an impression of one of her firebending punches?—but how could it not be permanent? And… her head… Amon had touched her forehead; he always touched people's foreheads—so he'd done something there?

"I think that was more than five minutes," the Equalist guard drawled, walking over with her hands in her pockets. "Let's go." Asami reached to touch Korra's shoulder again, giving her a reassuring pat.

"We'll be in touch," she promised, one hand on her hip. "You ask too, but I can't see them saying no." Korra kept her face neutral, thinking bitterly that he would say to anything that might bring her happiness at this point.

"Wait a couple of days," she said. Her voice still came out as a near-whisper, so ridiculously timid. She was too used to tip-toeing around him. In a moment of wistful melancholy, she realised how much she'd changed, nearly entirely for worse. "Then ask." Asami didn't question that, but she did frown almost imperceptibly. When the Equalist coughed, she waved goodbye cheerfully and walked off with definite purpose.

Korra moved on after the Equalist, head down and mind churning. Her bending wasn't gone permanently—was that what Avatar Aang had been going to say? Hope flooded through her again, this time bringing unease with it. Last time she'd dared to hope she'd been badly burned. She couldn't let it show. That hurt a little, despite knowing that it was for the best. She only recognised how deeply unhappy she was when these tiny moments came along, and they were so short.

She watched carefully when the Equalist opened the door; the woman had some kind of special paper that she put against multiple places before the door clicked. Then she turned an ordinary handle, pushing the door with what seemed like some considerable effort. Korra moved forward, dreading returning to those rooms. She'd panicked earlier when she was taken out of them, and now she could feel that same shortness of breath returning again as she stepped over the threshold.

Everything vanished into dull surprise as she saw the masked figure sat at the desk, diligently turning over bits of paper and scribbling on them. He turned around to face the door as the Equalist shooed Korra in and bowed so deeply she nearly touched the floor. "Sir," she said, suddenly all seriousness.

"You may leave," he said, adding after a small pause, "thank you."

"My pleasure," she said reverently, straightening up and hurrying out. The door clicked closed. His demeanour changed almost instantly as his subordinate left, from the composure to tense, perhaps frustrated, tossing papers into piles almost carelessly. The touch of anger in his movements dried her already parched throat into drought.

Amon regarded her without a word, taking in her pallor and immediate fascination with smoothing her clothing down. "Stop fidgeting," he ordered, and she jumped, placing her arms by her sides rigidly. "Have you considered your transgressions?" She knew what he wanted to hear and nodded, not trusting her voice. "Good. You have two options, you understand; the fruitless choice of rebellion, which will end in further unnecessary violence, or the simpler, smoother choice of obedience. I've said it before, Korra; I can be generous and good to you if you allow me to be. I don't expect to have to discipline you like a child, so don't force my hand again. Do you understand?" She nodded again. "Speak to me when I'm talking to you, Korra."

"I understand," she said, feeling herself shrinking. With Asami she'd almost been tall; the distance between who she had been and who she was now was a chasm, but she had been a human being. Here, she was almost an object. A trophy. A living, breathing trophy.

Amon got to his feet elegantly and removed his mask, placing it on the desk. He walked across the room to where she was standing, paralysed, and she shrank further inside herself. Reaching for her, he held her chin in a grip that would bruise later. She saw the switch from detached leader to that frightening, hungry, desperate man take over. "Good," he whispered, his voice rasping and harsh.

He kissed her, of all the things, as if this was really a relationship and not a hostage situation. His hands ran through her hair, pulling her head back viciously—then they were running down her sides, grabbing and scratching and moving restlessly. He shoved her against the wall, and she cried out in pain, hands flailing helplessly in the air against nothing. Registering solely panic once more, she collected herself enough to bring her arms up and shove against his chest. He was immovable, only making an ugly groan and pressing harder. "Yes," he breathed, biting her shoulder hard enough to make her yelp. "I can be good to you," he said, a sick smile spreading across his face.

Korra floated somewhere above, distant, as he pulled her to pieces. It's not permanent, she thought remotely.

It's not permanent.