This chapter took a little longer than expected, but it's also another one of greater length. I hope you can forgive the greater time gap for the surplus of content! XD Really, it wouldn't have taken so long, but my writer's mojo has been a little odd lately, plus I had some family visiting.

Once again, I want to say THANK YOU for all of the lovely reviews, favorites and alerts that this story has received. In all my years on this site, I've never gotten such a great response so fast. This fic has only been up since the 12th (all in all, that's barely over three weeks!), and it already has almost 40 reviews and 3500+ hits. That's amazingly flattering and I am so thankful that you guys like this fic! Thank you so much!

Also once again, this fic is a part of the Summer of Amorra Movement over on Tumblr. I highly recommend that my fellow Amorrians check it out. As such, this chapter is dedicated to SoA:1000 and my family over at the S.S Amorra. This fic wouldn't even exist without you. LOVE YOU GAIZ OMG.

"Ouch! What are you doing? So much for a talented healer—"

"Will you shut up? You're ruining my concentration and unless you want me to kill you—"

"Killing me would be a mercy at this point!"

"Then, by all means, keep bitching and squirming, 'cause I'm sure it won't be long!"

And so went Korra's first morning of healing with Noatak. By the time lunch rolled around, she was about ready to just strangle him and be done with it—whatever good manner he'd had yesterday had obviously faded now that Korra was his "official" healer (official meaning that no one else wanted to deal with him anymore, considering that they thought he was a lost cause, and at this rate, Korra wasn't too far behind them on that). He spent more time complaining about her technique than he did sitting still, which only made Korra's job that much harder.

When one brave soul stuck their head into the room to timidly interrupt, Korra was most definitely relieved. Lunch or no lunch, she was just glad to escape the infuriating man.

Really, though, the day had started something like this:

Korra had woken up early, dressing and eating in record time before she set off across town. All in all, the walk took somewhere around twenty minutes, Korra carefully making her way from the center of the city to the very outskirts, navigating through the other tribesmen and working waterbenders. Her vision was still adjusting to the lack of sunlight, making due with what pale light she could see from the sliver of moon in the sky.

When Korra arrived at the healing center, she did little to prepare but to fasten her sleeves securely around her forearms and remove her mittens. Her fingers felt the chill, but she needed the direct access to skin to heal properly. She subtly bent warmth into her fingers, keeping in mind what Kya had told her (I made the decision not to tell Noatak of your identity as the Avatar. I will leave it at your discretion to tell him if you will, but we will not do so before you are ready). Korra had been relieved at that, but it also raised anxiety—she'd been waiting for Noatak to ask about her abilities, perhaps even to refuse her care because of her identity, but to find out that he had no idea... well, Korra wasn't going to tell him anytime soon.

Real Noatak or not, she wasn't going to risk confiding in him about her title. It was a miracle enough that he hadn't overheard the boys howling about it yesterday.

She'd then entered his room, starting their tense banter long before she started healing. The process repeated on a loop for the next few hours, until Korra was given her break.

"Stupid, arrogant, no-good..." She grumbled to herself, shoving her way through the throng of healers and patients, some still healing and being healed, some following Korra's own path in making their way to the mess hall, which was little more than a room large enough for the lot, floor made soft with pelts and pillows, and lined with tables carved elegantly but simply from blocks of ice.

Since the healers were also waterbenders (if slightly more clumsy when actually bending water), the entire structure itself was never in want of ice-made fixtures. Ice and pelts and tanned hides—more sophisticated as the Northern Tribes were, they were made from the very same materials that the Southern Tribes were. Hand-made, or even machine-made cloth had to be imported from other regions, usually the Earth Provinces or the Fire Colonies.

It was a complicated arrangement, one made partially from the good politics that the United Republic had formed, but underneath still fueled from the bad blood between the once-Fire-Nation and the rest of the world. Fire Lord Zuko had made reparations mainly through trade, offering priceless exports that many of the nations had gone without for the whole of the Hundred-Year War, asking for little-to-nothing in return. Over time, the arrangements had grown more equal in worth—the Water Tribes offered foods and furs, things that were commonplace to natives like Korra, but exotic and rare to the other nations. The Fire Colonies offered many of its industrialized goods, such as fabric, steel, and some rare jewels found only in the volcanic regions, as well as their superior technology. The Earth Provinces brought crops and coal, but also intel. Secrets thought to be lost to the world had simply been jealously guarded in the very depths of Ba Sing Se, where not even Princess Azula and her reign of terror could sink their claws.

And, of course, there were the (greatly diminished) Air Nomads—with little to offer, but much to gain, Tenzin's small family would thrive for generations from reparations. She knew from experience that they asked for very little, living still in the traditions of their people as monks. They didn't eat meat, which was the most expensive of food products, and wore no fine clothing. They were practical and simple, and as such, it cost the former Fire Nation very little to help support them. The most expensive endeavor had been one set in place by Avatar Aang's own funds before his death—the search for and successful finding of one last herd of flying bison.

(Oogie had been the youngest of the bison, and in Air Nomad tradition, once he was weaned, was given to the young Tenzin to care for. The rest of the herd had been left mainly in peace, but not before Aang with his magical powers of communication had miraculously convinced the flying bison to allow a team of Earth Province refugees that had been living in the temples to oversee their health. Tenzin apparently made annual trips to check up on the last of the flying bison, but from what snippets he'd told Korra over the years, it seemed that the herd was growing successfully larger. It was one of the few things Korra had ever seen Tenzin smile about.)

The trade arrangement in whole was fair, anyway. Bi-seasonal ships made port in both the Northern and Southern Tribes, bringing whatever goods the people were currently in need of (in the case of the Water Tribes, food was usually the main staple, as nearly nothing could be grown in the ice, and over-hunting and harvesting could destroy their traditional ways of life.

Korra silently mourned this fact as she stirred her bowl of jook, a far cry from a traditional lunch of sea prunes, kelp noodles, and blubbered-seal jerky.

In her silence, Korra barely noticed as another presence made its way through the throng to sit across from her. When she finally looked up, she was wholly unsurprised to find Noatak watching her, pensive and still. The usually-sharp scratch of annoyance was dulled (though the food in her growling stomach likely had something to do with the matter), but still ever-present as it seemed to be when Noatak was in close quarters.

"You want something?" Korra asked, her frown just deep enough to make clear that she would prefer he was far, far away.

"Your pardon," he admitted after some time.

Korra focused with a sharp gaze, eyes narrowing. She wasn't sure if she felt badly about the deep suspicion that rooted itself to her in that moment, but she brushed it away, anyway. Instead, she scanned his face (or what was left of it, behind his scars and burns), looking for the truth like she might read it in words.

He must have known that he had her attention, but somehow also that she was not going to be the one to speak first. With a sigh, her patient continued. "I know less than nothing about myself," he admitted. "But I know that you are absolutely infuriating."

Korra opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a look.

"We're very different people, Korra. That much, I can tell."

She didn't disagree, but her anger deflated. Just a little. "True."

He nodded, as if he had found the resolve to continue. "Whether you really do know me or not, I honestly couldn't tell you. But it would be dishonest for me to say that I have been acting as I would around a stranger. I've had no issues with anyone here—or, at least, not until you arrived."

Korra twitched, wanting to argue vehemently as she had been with him all morning. She knew, though, that in this room full of healers and patients, it was not the time nor the place. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and made the conscious decision that she would let him continue and keep her temper in check as best she could.

It was not an easy thing to do.

"I know that you told the chief that you couldn't identify me," Noatak said, his voice pitched lower, now. He looked troubled in his momentary silence before he leaned forward just slightly. "Not yet, anyway. And part of me believes it, Korra, but not all of me. There are things that you know, or at least things that you suspect, and yet, you're keeping me in the dark. It's frustrating—I don't know if you can imagine."

Guilt—that was what she felt, even distantly, as she took in his discouraged expression. Korra tried and failed to tell herself that this was best, that she should know all the facts before disclosing them, but she was having difficulties.

These weren't the thoughts of a man who had knowingly terrorized an entire city. These were the thoughts of a man who had less than nothing.

"I..." Korra trailed off into silence, glancing around before she lowered her voice and leaned forward in kind. "Look," she muttered unhappily. "This morning didn't go that great; I know. I'm sorry. But I've been here for, like, what, a day? Two? Do I have some suspicions over who you could be? Sure. But I don't want to get your hopes up, or down, as things might be. The guy you could be was definitely not a role model, Noatak. If I'm going to do this, I want to do it right—not just for you, but for everyone. If I screw this up, I could cause a lot of problems."

He met her eyes silently, seemingly searching for something that Korra couldn't understand. After a time, she forced herself to look away, down into her bowl of lumpy porridge. She stirred it aimlessly, wishing she could find the answers inside.

"The day we met..." he started hesitantly, trailing off into silence. "You called me Amon."

Korra imagined that she felt her heart stop.

"I thought I told you to forget that."

"How could I?" He snapped in return. "That might be the one honest thing you've said since I met you. Every time you think you figure something out, you shut me out. I feel like some—some..." His expression twisted in distaste. "Some scolded pup. And what are you but a child? You're supposed to be helping me!"

Korra glanced around, frustrated with her own inability to argue when she felt so stifled by the presence of others. She started to get up. "Noatak, this isn't the place for this—"

His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding Korra fast. When she faced him, she didn't see so much as the usual wince of pain at the rough treatment of his still-tender fingers. "Make it the place, Korra. I'm fast running out of patience, and if your reactions are to be believed, you would be a better judge of the consequences than I."

Korra swallowed spasmodically, feeling everything go very still (including, possibly, her heart).

Consequences, he said.

Or else... there will be severe consequences.

Her bowl, which had been tightly clutched in her hand, slipped from her fingers and broke apart on the ground. In Noatak's moment of distraction, Korra gave one huge wrench away from the man and bolted, nearly scampering like a frightened child in her need to be away from him. Run, her body told her, and even though Korra hadn't run away from anything in her life, there was no fighting herself or her instincts in that moment, and she ran.

She stopped for no one, ducking and weaving through the crowded halls, equal parts uncaring and unhearing of the confused and worried voices that called out to her. Korra doubted even Aang himself could have stopped her, then, but also doubted that he would have tried.

She heard only one voice calling out to her, and it only made her run faster.

Until she was out of the city, out of the walls, running even without Naga beside her, Korra kept going until the only things left were the moon and the sky, the cliffs and the sea, the waves and the wind, and the salt of her tears.

Korra was sure that, under normal circumstances in a more normal place, the sun might be somewhere around setting, rather than the moon hovering low in the sky. She could picture it, almost, behind her eyelids, almost painfully held shut. Korra rubbed her frozen eyelashes between her ungloved fingers.

There were footsteps coming from behind—this time, though, Korra wasn't nearly as surprised when he crouched beside her.

"You seem to have a penchant for cliffs," Aang said with a warm chuckle, his iridescent form settling beside his young reincarnation.

"You seem to like following me to them," Korra countered with a sniffle. Fond of Aang as she was, Korra was in no mood to joke. She was much more inclined—as most seventeen-year-olds were—to mope until she was well and ready to be done.

Aang sighed, barely a whisper of imaginary sound over the rasp of the wind. "Korra—"

"If you're here to tell me I made a mistake, I don't want to hear it," she snapped, burying her face into her knees, pulled and held close to her chest. "I already know."

For a few moments, Aang said nothing, simply letting time pass peacefully between them. But, Korra figured, as much time as she had, he must have, too. "You know," he started after a moment. "It's not a bad thing to be afraid, Korra. I know Tenzin told you the same."

"I shouldn't be afraid. I'm the Avatar," Korra mumbled, voice muffled by her parka.

"Who ever told you that the Avatar couldn't be afraid every once in a while?"

Korra looked up, meeting her predecessor's eyes. "I..."

"There is no shame in being afraid, Korra, not now or ever. Do you think I was unafraid when I faced Yakone? He, too, made me feel helpless and terrified, much as his son has made you feel in the past. The original problem lay in Yakone, but I fear that his bending was not his only tool of revenge. It was my responsibility to keep him secure, but he was able to escape. You could even say that this whole incident is of my doing, and for that, Korra, I am truly sorry. I am sorry for the pain you inadvertently suffered at my hands."

"No!" She protested. "No, Aang, this was not your fault. This is no one's fault but... but Amon's." Korra paused, shuddering in revulsion at the thought. "He was responsible for his actions!"

"Was he? I was under the impression that the manner of raising a child had quite a bit of influence on their outcome. If Amon, if Noatak had been born with a different father, do you truly think he would have turned out the same way?"

"I—"

"And, Korra, let us keep in mind that Amon, as we know him, is dead. It matters little if he is alive or not, because the people think he is dead. They sleep safely at night. Would you disturb that peace by telling Republic City that Amon is alive when you have circumstantial evidence at best? This man, this Noatak, has no memories of being Amon. How would you feel if you revealed him to be Amon and it turned out that he was not? How would you justify such a thing to yourself, let alone to this man who already thinks himself a monster?" Aang's tone was gentle, but his words were severe. Korra shrunk back—if this was where Tenzin got his infamous steely-cool manner from, Korra was not going to argue.

"That's what I—"

"That's what your intentions have been meant for? Well, if that were so, would you truly treat this man the way you have been treating him? He is as lost and as confused as you are."

"If he is Amon, then he deserves it!" Korra cut in.

"And if he is not Amon, then he does not," Aang replied with a sharp look. "Does a man with the potential to be innocent deserve your fury, Korra? The Avatar has no place to be angry over personal matters, no matter the injustices they have faced at the hands of one or many. In their judgement, they must be fair in all things. If you cannot compartmentalize, then Amon will have won. He will have corrupted the incorruptible, and the delicate balance of equality between benders and nonbenders will be lost. In the end, the man you knew as Amon was always prepared to become a martyr to his cause, if he thought it would prove advantageous."

Korra struggled to find words, rational words, even through her anger. Instead, she only found herself unsuccessful. "He almost ended the Avatar Cycle, Aang! What would the world have done then, if not for you?"

"And what would the world have done if the Avatar Cycle had ended with me, as it well and truly should have?"

Words failed her altogether, now. "W-wha—"

"History is written by the victors, Korra. There was a time when the world believed me to be dead; a clever gambit, they said. What few ever knew and even fewer remember is that I was killed—in the Avatar State, no less. As Roku before me said, that is the only way to end the Avatar Cycle, and it is. I was killed while in the Avatar State." Aang stopped, took a breath, and continued. "Katara saved me using water from the Northern Spirit Oasis. However... I know that scant minutes before, she had offered to use the same water to heal the scar of the man that was then Prince Zuko. Had circumstances turned out any differently... you may not have been the Avatar. Had circumstances been different, it is unlikely that you would have been born at all."

Aang gave her a minute to let that sink in.

For Korra's part, the world suddenly felt much colder.

"In some ways, I wish things could have been slightly different, Korra. I was young when I learned that I was the Avatar; I was too young. I was only twelve years old, and I was not nearly old enough to bear the burden. But you... you knew from the time you were barely walking. In some ways, this is a blessing, but it is very much a curse. You were never given time to become your own person outside of being the Avatar. You were not able to make friends outside of your responsibility, and you were not able to ever truly be a child as even I was. On the contrary, you never grew to resent your responsibility, as I and many of the other Avatars once did. Truth be told, I cannot tell you which is better."

Korra let out a shuddering breath, unsure of what to say. She'd never really realized... any of it.

"Every Avatar is different, Korra, and each has their own decisions to make. They have their own way of doing things. But that doesn't mean we can stop doing the right things." Aang sighed, climbing to his feet. "Come, now. I am sure my daughter is beside herself at your disappearance."

"Unlikely," Korra replied simply, but followed suit. "She probably just let Naga out of the stables and followed her on a wild goose-turkey chase all over the icecap. Naga's a great tracker, but she's still pretty young. She gets distracted when I'm not there to keep her on track."

Aang chuckled, falling into step beside the young woman, comfortable despite the tension still lingering between them. Maybe his nonchalant attitude came with being a spirit and thus having little to worry about, but for Korra's mistakes.

For a time, they walked in silence, before Korra decided that if she had already been taken to task so thoroughly, there was no sense in refusing to ask for more advice. If she asked nicely enough, she expected that Aang would be more pleasant in delivering the information.

"What should I do about Noatak?" Korra asked, her gaze fixed on the ice before her feet. "You said that he might not be Amon, but you must know for sure. Is he a danger to me, to all of us?"

"Your confidence in my omniscience is flattering," Aang answered fondly. "But there is a flaw in your question, Korra. You asked me if this man is Amon, but you know the answer yourself. Whether he was once Amon, I will leave that discovery to you. However, I can be quite sure in telling you that this man is not Amon at present, no matter his past."

Korra glanced up to the former Avatar. "So... he might have been Amon, but he isn't currently; that's what you're saying?"

"Precisely."

The young waterbender nearly growled in frustration, kicking viciously at a chunk of ice in her path. "How can I be sure he isn't dangerous? How do I know that he won't just snap one day?"

"I found over time that extending the hand of friendship is a much more effective deterrent than hostility."

She took a moment to process. "You're saying I should try to be his friend? But he's dangerous!"

"Korra, one of my most trusted friends started out as one of my greatest enemies. There is something to be said for offering second chances and forgiveness, especially if you are the one that was wronged."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not that great at this peaceful-airbender-monk stuff," she grumbled, still considering. The thought of letting her guard down still felt like ice in her stomach.

"It will come," Aang soothed. "In many ways, you remind me of Katara when she was young. She grew into her wisdom, Korra, and never think otherwise." At Korra's surprised look, he chuckled. "Katara could be quite the grudge-holder when she was your age, and even before. During our travels together, she was quick to offer her trust to strangers, but she never forgot when that trust was betrayed. Never let it be said that a waterbender lacks in inner-fire."

Korra raised a brow, and if the former Avatar wasn't a spirit, she would have said that he flushed slightly as he averted his gaze. Aang cleared his throat. "What I'm saying, Korra, is that you have someone with great wisdom who would readily stand beside you. I advise you to write to Katara about your troubles. Ask her for advice, and I promise she will help you in any way that she is able. She thinks of you as family. You are family. And, in the meantime, you and Noatak can attempt to settle your differences."

Write to Katara—now that was a good idea. Korra wasn't quite sure about all of this grudge-holding business (to her, Katara had always seemed all-knowing and peaceful, but so did most old people), but, at the very least, perhaps she could get another opinion. In any case, Korra hadn't spoken to Katara since she had returned to Republic City as a fully-realized Avatar.

"I'll do that," Korra agreed, feeling a little more settled.

"Kya will also provide a listening ear, if you need one. She is busy, but she will always make time for you."

The young woman nodded in assent. The two walked in silence a while longer, until Korra could start to see the faint glow of lights. Aang stopped, and Korra turned to face him.

"This is where I leave you, Korra. I've stayed quite a while already. I would ask you to seriously consider all that I have told you tonight."

Korra nodded, placing her closed fist against her open, opposite palm in a traditional Water Tribe bow of reverence and gratitude. "Thank you, Aang. And thank you for staying with me."

Aang nodded in response, smiling faintly. "The Winter Solstice grows nearer. Over the next few weeks, it will become less strenuous for you to talk to any of your past lives, and it will be easier for us to stay. Meditate to clear your mind of anger and pain, and we will assist you in any way that we can. You will be better for it in both mind and body, as both a person and the Avatar."

Korra nodded once more in assent.

"Give my regards to both my wife and children. Though I cannot speak with them as readily, I do think of them often."

"I will."

The form before her faded away, and in his place, Korra saw a huge shadow bounding toward her, followed by excited snuffles. In seconds, Naga was upon her master, nudging Korra's chest with her snout and lapping at her face. Following behind were a group of people, lanterns held in hand and hoods up to protect them from the cold.

...cold.

Korra swayed on her feet, blinking hard in an attempt to clear her vision. What she had taken for the landscape blurring into a mess of color, she suddenly noticed extended also to the faces of the rescue party.

"Korra!" Exclaimed a familiar voice in relief, stepping forward. The light from her lantern was just enough to illuminate Kya's blurry features. "I'm so glad you're alright!"

Korra attempted to agree, but the words came out a mess. In fact, she was feeling pretty tired. Maybe it was better if she sat down or... something.

"Aang sends his regards," the young Avatar mumbled, and promptly fell unconscious.