It's late into the afternoon by the time I return home. I spent a while at the Island.
Pema all but interrogated me as to how I and my daughter are getting along. I know she cares sincerely for our wellbeing, but sometimes it can be a little…grating. I must remind myself to be grateful though, as Pema has become like a mother to me over the years. Where experience is concerned, she is more than qualified to counsel me. So, I keep my pride at bay and listen to what she has to tell me, even if, as I sometimes remind her, she has told me such things before.
The kids are the main reason I stayed so long however, though perhaps I cannot call them such any longer. Meelo and Ikki are teenagers, the latter on the cusp of adulthood. With age comes maturity, supposedly; both are just as energetic as ever, if a little more refined in how they choose to express it. Rohan will be tall like his father, I can see it already. His nature leans more towards that of his eldest sister, though his brother appears to have rubbed off on him a little.
Jinora, who I am quietly most fond of, is both now a woman and the world's second fully fledged airbender. She is soon to fly the nest, as they say. I can see her readiness to experience life beyond the four walls her father built around her. I can also sense Tenzin's reluctance to set her on her own path. It is something I have promised her I would discuss with him, but the timing just hasn't been right. Soon, I think to myself, once everything else has worked itself out.
As I step into the house, pushing the door shut behind me, I am greeted with perfect silence. It is a foreign sound to my ears. I peek into the living room and kitchen, finding them both empty, before I disrupt it, calling out for my husband.
"Mako?"
There is no reply. I clamp down on the thoughts that try to rush to the forefront of my mind. If something was wrong, I would have sensed it immediately. I would have known it the moment it happened. Still, as I set aside my boots and approach the stairs, I feel the beat of my heart as I begin to frown.
When I reach the top of the stairs and step up onto the landing, my eyes go straight to the half open door of our daughter's room. My gaze does not need to linger; her cot is empty. I rein in my thoughts, though my throat feels a little tight, and walk across to our bedroom.
"Ma –"
A finger is held up to a pair of familiar lips as I appear in the doorway, and as I see them I release the breath I didn't know I was holding. Mako is stretched out on the bed, his arm curved around our little girl as she lies peaceably upon his bared chest. I softly exhale and step into the room, with a growing smile moving around the foot of the bed and approaching his side. Once there, I crouch down beside them. Mako turns his head and I quietly kiss him in greeting. Afterwards, I gently stroke our daughter's hair, listening to her soft, slow breaths as she sleeps.
"How did this happen?" I whisper, gesturing at the two of them.
"It was kind of an accident," Mako murmurs in return, speaking slowly. "I picked her up in between the process of changing shirts, and I guess my chest is just a really comfortable place to be."
"I think I can attest to that," I reply, and his smile is crooked.
"Like mother, like daughter?"
I rest my chin on my forearms, looking up at him. "Could be," I say softly. "How long has she been asleep?"
"For a while," Mako answers, lightly stroking her cheek with his thumb. "A little over an hour, I think."
"Well," I say, "now we know what to do when she needs to be settled."
Mako laughs. We both fall silent as our daughter stirs, shifting her cheek against her father's chest. When she falls still, I raise a finger to my own lips and stare accusation at my husband. He gives a small smile and shrug of apology.
"How are Tenzin and the family?" he asks then.
"They're all doing okay," I reply. "Everyone sends their regards. Ikki looked about ready to kick me off the island for coming alone, though."
Mako smirks, though his expression grows a little more serious afterwards. "How about your talk with Tenzin? I hope –"
I reach forward and press my fingers to his lips. "Relax, all we did was talk. Tenzin gave me some advice," I tell him after taking away my hand. "I think I have a way to settle our dilemma, which doesn't involve me leaving, no," I add when Mako's eyes narrow.
"I'm intrigued," he says with a raised eyebrow.
I lean forward and plant a light kiss upon our daughter's brow. Afterwards, I begin to rise to my feet. "I'm going to write a letter," I tell him.
I am sitting at the kitchen table a few minutes later, several sheets of paper lying neatly stacked beside me, and an elegant, navy-blue pen ready and waiting in my left hand. It was a gift from Mako almost five years ago, and it's the pen I always bring with me when I attend Council meetings. It hasn't been used for anything other than 'official business', as my husband would put it. I think what I'm about to write qualifies as such.
This is the first time I've written a missive, in my own capacity at least. During my years of Avatar training, the writing of official documents was something in which I was tutored – though I never did pay much attention. I took things a little more seriously when Tenzin coached me shortly upon our return from the South Pole, when I first expressed an interest in getting more involved in the Council's work. I would be lying if I said that I am not a little nervous about doing this. There is a subtle, delicate balance I wish to maintain. Much as I need to appear courteous, my words must have impact. Tenzin showed me how to frame the missive after suggesting it to me, and I keep his pointers in mind as I set the pen to the first sheet of paper.
Over an hour later, as I screw up the third attempt and pull a fourth sheet of paper towards myself, I pause for a moment as I hear Mako's footsteps above me. I roll my shoulders wearily as I hear them walk over to our daughter's room. A prominent ache has knotted itself into my neck, and I'm reminded that my posture really is terrible. But all I want is to put words to paper without sighing in frustration and hating them a few minutes later. I feel a slight pulse at my temple as I stare down at my latest attempt. No less than three lines in, and already I'm having to fight the urge to reach for a new sheet of paper.
I close my eyes and lean back against the chair, lifting a hand to massage my temple as the other slowly turns the pen between my fingers. My ideas seemed so clear to me when I talked this through with Tenzin, but now they seem to become increasingly intangible with each half written letter I screw up and toss aside. I hear Mako crossing the landing towards the bathroom as I exhale and, with reluctance I realise, return pen to paper.
I'm not sure how much time has passed when I hear him coming down the stairs. I'm not sure how this most recent effort has escaped being tossed aside with the others. I sit at the table with my right hand almost absentmindedly massaging slow circles at my temple, my left dipping to the paper and drawing a thick dark line through yet another string of characters. This is how Mako finds me, when he comes into the kitchen. I only realise how tightly wound my neck and shoulders are when I feel his hands upon them.
"I could hear you muttering from upstairs, Korra," he says then, and I sigh in response. I place the pen down on the table and lean back, lifting my hands to rub at the corners of my eyes.
"This isn't going well," I admit to him.
"You should take a break."
But I shake my head. "I need to finish this."
Mako catches my hand before I can take up the pen again. "Afterwards," he says.
I look up at him as he takes my hand in his. "After what?"
"You'll see," he says, and he draws me up from my seat. "Come on."
We leave the kitchen, heading up the stairs and onto the landing. I cast a brief glance into our daughter's room as Mako leads me towards the bathroom, whose door is pulled shut. I am already quite curious as he reaches forward and turns the handle, slowly pushing the door open. What I see steals words from my lips.
Several lilac candles are placed around the room, small flames glowing softly, and the scent of lavender is upon the air as Mako guides me over the threshold. I turn to see the bath filled with water, thin wisps of steam curling upwards. The firebender in me always liked my water drawn hot. A soothing fragrance rises to meet me from its surface, and it's as though I can already feel my muscles loosening, the knots in my neck and shoulders aching to be teased apart. So I wasn't imagining things then; I had earlier thought that I could hear water running. I just had no clue this was what Mako had planned for me.
"Then I've done my job right," he replies with a smile. "Take the rest of the day off," he tells me, placing a large, impossibly soft roll of towel I didn't even know we owned into my hands. "I'd say you've earned it."
Words could perhaps express my gratitude, but I simply can't think of any at the moment. My husband is smiling all-knowingly as I look from the candles to the bath and then back to him. It's endearingly irritating, I think, how well this man knows me sometimes. I chuckle at the thought, and lightly tug him forward onto my lips by the front of his now present shirt. I almost wish he wasn't wearing it.
"Tempting," Mako says in response, "but knowing our daughter, we're due for an interruption soon enough. "Now," he turns me around to face the room and lightly pats me on the bum, "go and relax, babe. Don't worry about anything else but yourself."
The door is quietly pulled shut behind me, and warmth blossoms in my chest as I look once more upon everything that has been done for me. How such a small thing, done without my asking or even conscious desiring of it, can make me feel so happy, so loved, how it can make me smile 'till my cheeks ache and have me blinking away inexplicable tears, I don't know. But perhaps it needs no explanation.
The scented water fulfils every promise and I am soothed almost to the point of unconsciousness. No longer tight and anxious, no longer trying to force my thoughts into order but abandoning them entirely, the words I need to say come to mind with peaceful cohesion. I can see the characters neatly drawing themselves on the back of my eyelids, dark, elegant lines embodying all the meaning I would wish to express. Per my husband's instructions, I don't touch the letter again until the following morning. When I do, it practically writes itself.
A/N: I'll take this moment to show my appreciation for all your reviews and such thus far, and for simply taking the time to read this story. It's an interesting experiment on my part, writing from the first person perspective of the opposite gender, and I hope I'm doing Korra justice. As to the name of the baby, which I'm surprised more people haven't asked about, I simply don't know what she's called. Perhaps as LoK officially progresses, if Mako/Korra start a family, we'll find out then.