I am soooo sorry for the delay! I've been caught up in getting ready to go back to college and work and all those awful things, including a smidge of writer's block.

I got a review asking in this story was discontinued, and I will tell you now that the answer is NO. If at any point the length between chapters is unreasonable, don't be afraid to message me here or on my Tumblr and ask me what's going on. Chances are, I'm probably caught up in work like I have been the past few weeks, but I have NO intentions of leaving this story unfinished. Unlike my others, I know exactly where I want this to go and how it will end. It's just the getting there that's the problem.

Blah blah blah, listen to me whine. Thank you for your continued support, guys, and I hope this chapter makes up for the wait and I apologize for any typos.

Also, SoA, et cetera.

Noatak knew they didn't blame him for Korra's disappearance. It couldn't have been his fault, really. He hadn't done anything on purpose, and there were more than enough witnesses that were as clueless as he was.

Still... she had been missing for hours, now. It hadn't occurred to him before that, even though he rarely knew where she was, others almost always did. Korra's absence seemed to set everyone on edge, but most noticeably, Chief Kya. She was a woman not usually ruffled, even when her son caused a ruckus among patients, or when everyone, including herself, was run ragged. That Noatak had never seen Kya anywhere approaching panicked was a testament to her strong will—in fact, the only time he had seen her even the slightest bit angry was the prior day, when dealing with the village boys.

Now, though, Kya's will had little hold on her emotions; pale-faced and barking orders, tribesmen scrambled over themselves to either get out of her way or to accomplish her orders as soon as possible. It seemed that, if only for a short time, for Korra to leave without telling anyone of where she was going was unusual. However, what seemed to bother the Chief more was something Noatak didn't understand—that someone named Naga was accounted for, even though Korra was not.

Noatak pretended that this implication didn't bother him; that the idea of Korra and this Naga being inseparable didn't coerce a strange and inexplicable twinge from the general area of his scarred chest. He pretended. Well, at the very least, he didn't think on the matter overly much.

Either way, he knew that this was not his fault.

That knowledge did nothing to stop him from feeling guilty. It did nothing to stop him from pacing in his room, to stop him from demanding he be allowed to accompany the Chief in her endeavor to find Korra, and nothing to stop him from being furious when he was refused. Logically, he argued to himself, it was his responsibility to assist in the search-and-rescue, as it was his fault the need existed at all. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that his mind was overrun with scenarios involving the icy cliffs, the dark night, the sheer winds, and Korra's lack of protective gear on departure; it had even less than nothing to do with the fact that he felt almost sick thinking about any one of those scenarios.

And, of course, there was absolutely no chance of it having anything to do with the idea that he, Noatak, a nameless, hopeless man—or so he had been until introduced to a certain young waterbender—cared.

But he really, really did.

In the ensuing hours of damning silence caused by the absence of the tribesmen (or anyone that was able-bodied and wasn't him), Noatak spent equal time seething and grudgingly worrying himself to the point of nauseousness. The worry was not for the reasons he expected, which was even more worrying—it had nothing to do with the thought that, without Korra, he might never know the truth about himself or his past, or that without her, he might never be healed. Instead, the one resounding, throbbing, aching worry was the simple idea that I might never see her again, and it's my fault.

...Who said that it wasn't his fault? Noatak couldn't remember who had bothered to reassure him with false logic so very feeble.

Unfortunately, though, without Kya's approval, Noatak had nothing to do but wait. He nearly drove himself mad, until, hours later, he heard the approaching buzz of voices. Knowing that they must have found Korra, he sighed in relief and went toward the entrance to the healing center, intending to wait for the Chief and their mutual... annoyance. However, as the voices got closer, Noatak realized that something was very wrong.

"You two, start the stoves. I need water heated immediately! You, go prepare a room! And you, find my husband and son and tell them that I have found Korra; make haste! Everyone else, get out of my way! Naga, come— Naga, no! Come!"

Following closely behind the Chief's rushed words was a loud crash. Noatak didn't hesitate in rushing toward the sound, hissing under his breath as his body protested the action. He wasn't exactly sure what to expect, but when he rounded the corner, seeing Kya pulling at the reins of some huge, furry beast was not nearly it in the least. The Chief and the animal seemed to notice him at the same time, but Kya's address to him was lost in the sound of another series of crashes, the creature shoving its massive body through the narrow halls, knocking everything in its way to the ground.

Noatak had seconds to react, but never enough—he had no idea how to deal with this, or even what this was. Luckily, the creature skidded to a halt just before him. Noatak held very still as it sniffed at him; it seemed to have the shape of a dog with the sturdiness of an arctic bear—surely, nothing like this existed in the North, to his knowledge. That was probably well, since he got a glimpse of huge, sharp teeth in the instant before the animal licked his face, leaving him unpleasantly slimy.

Noatak grimaced, rubbing tenderly at his damaged skin, but was soon distracted by something much more important than his own discomfort—the sight of a familiar figure hunched over the animal's back. Korra was haphazardly seated in a saddle of some kind, but she didn't seem to be conscious. When he turned to question Kya on the matter, he found the woman already beside him, attempting to lead the animal once more. "Before you ask, I don't know what happened. She was conscious until we found her, but she is most likely hypothermic. Any other damage will have to be assessed once I can get her to a room, but this cursed beast—Naga, come!"

Noatak stared in surprise. This was Naga?

All of a sudden, he felt a little stupid, but strangely relieved.

"Naga," he said carefully, and the polar bear dog turned her attention away from the chief. Huge, brown eyes focused with surprising intelligence on Noatak, who hesitated only for a moment before he held out his hand to pat the creature's great muzzle. Naga whined softly, seemingly in content at the gentle touch, but Noatak also knew inexplicably that the animal was worried for her master.

"Chief, if I may...?"

Kya huffed, handing over the heavy, well-worn leather lead, crossing her arms over her chest. "I wasn't aware that you knew Naga."

"I don't," Noatak answered truthfully, at somewhat of a loss, but unwilling to think about it too much when Korra was still in danger. "Naga, come."

With a heavy sigh, the beast followed as Noatak gently directed her down the hall, following at the Chief's back. The animal's strange trust was strangely reassuring, even though the situation was still dire; there was a strange, nagging feeling in the back of his mind that counted this as a victory. Noatak got the inexplicable sense that not many animals had ever trusted him before.

It took some maneuvering—even with Naga's cooperation, her size was a bit of an issue—but they were finally able to bring Naga (and Korra) to whatever room Kya's healers had been able to procure. Several people worked swiftly on the straps holding Korra to the saddle, and within moments, were carefully lifting her down and toward a strange depression in the floor, not terribly wide, but deep. He frowned in confusion, but didn't stay so for long, as a pair of healers brought in an enormous ceramic bowl filled with steaming water. He observed for only a moment before Chief Kya noticed his extended presence.

"Out!" Kya ordered, spinning him brusquely and pushing him toward the exit. "This is no place for men or for dogs, not that there's a terrible difference. Now, both of you, out."

And that was how Noatak found himself playing nursemaid to a juvenile, half-ton polar bear dog.

Everything was cold and everything hurt. Korra was keenly aware of these simple facts as she blinked blearily, taking in the distinct white-blue color of the ice around her. The next thing she noticed was that her body seemed incredibly heavy; she attributed that to the thick mass of furs and woven blankets that covered her from neck to toe. Her chest hurt from deep within, lungs stinging as she tried to breathe, and her mouth was dreadfully dry.

She hadn't felt so bad since the time she woke up in the Air Temple after that whole incident with Amon and Tarrlok and that awful cabin. In fact, her body felt pretty similar to that time, and—

Korra turned her head, and everything came flooding back in an overwhelming wave; almost as astounding as the sight before her. Sprawled on the floor of the narrow-walled room was Naga, deep brown eyes watching Korra carefully. Naga did not rise to greet Korra as she usually would, however—leaning against the polar bear dog's side (where Korra usually lay herself) was Noatak, sound asleep.

Korra groaned softly as she wormed one arm from under her blankets, rubbing at her eyes before taking a closer look. Noatak's head was tilted at a strange angle, implying that he had been asleep for a while. His scars stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin—paler than usual. Was he sick? Korra frowned; no, she didn't think so. It took her a moment to realize that his jacket was absent, leaving him in a thin, sleeveless shirt that fastened at the side; standard issue for patients that needed attention to their torso. Noatak's body twitched slightly, but he seemed no closer to waking. More likely than anything, he was probably cold. But where was his jacket?

From the corner of her eye, she saw blue (a color so common that she naturally overlooked it as force of habit), and Korra could not describe the feeling she had when she realized that the reason Noatak was not wearing his jacket was because it had carefully been laid over her shoulders.

Slowly, haltingly, Korra raised herself first onto her elbows, and when that didn't hurt—well, not that much—onto her hands. She clutched the blankets (and Noatak's jacket, but she was trying to ignore that as much as possible) to her chest, realizing as her body was exposed to the chilled air that she was in nothing but her underwrappings. Korra flushed fiercely, even though Noatak couldn't see and Naga didn't care. It was the principle of the matter! She made a face at the thought.

Korra rolled her shoulders. Nothing seemed to be wrong aside from her muscles being sore and some tingling in her fingers and toes. It wasn't anything she hadn't dealt with before, having grown up in the South Pole. Plus, if she was waking up here, she had to assume that the Healers had already tended to her.

On the other side of the room, Noatak shifted. Korra's heart sped as she clutched the blankets closer, silently praying to Tui and La that he wouldn't open his eyes when Korra was still so... exposed. Really, it wasn't even her state of undress that bothered her; in warmer months, Korra had trained with Mako and Bolin in her wrappings, but that was different. Then, even though she knew that the brothers were both attracted to her, the tension was... well, innocent. Plus, Mako had Asami at the time, and Bolin had learned from their previous incident that 'romantic entanglements' with a teammate were a bad idea. It seemed so simple, then. She didn't feel like she was naked when she had her friends at her side and the water at her command.

She sighed in relief when Noatak once again stilled. Korra realized, though, that it probably wouldn't be long until he awoke for real, and by then, she should most definitely be dressed. However, when she scanned the floor and the wide ice shelf where the healers stored their vials of herb-infused waters, she couldn't spot her clothes, or even the thin garments kept for patients. Korra cursed under her breath. She couldn't very well go roaming the halls in her underwrappings in search of her own clothes, now could she? And, if there was one thing Korra was, it was prideful. She had more dignity than to wrap herself in a blanket and wander aimlessly, or so she liked to think.

Still... Korra glanced down, swallowing her discomfort as she looked at the jacket. All things considered, it really was her best option. Holding it up to eye-level, Korra observed the stitching and the fabric—things she had learned about as a young girl, memories nearly faded with time, back before Korra knew she was the Avatar; back when she was young, impressionable, and before she was taken from her mother to live in the White Lotus Compound. Even though Korra had never cared for such simple things as sewing and mending, she'd always held the teachings of her mother close. Now, Korra's knowing-but-clumsy gaze took in the tight stitches of the seams, surprisingly solid for something worn by a patient. It was only upon closer inspection that Korra noticed the sigil sewn into the fabric, nearly obscured by the thick collar—a sigil that Korra was surprisingly familiar with; Clan Yugoda, Master Katara's once-mentor. Yugoda's family line was a long one, one of the most well-known in Water Tribe culture, even in the Southern Tribe. According to popular legend, Yugoda's line bore the first healers, back when the Water Tribes were a warlike people, roaming the world in their grand ships made from the skeletons of the huge creatures of the sea.

Anything belonging to Clan Yugoda was valuable and well-made; how did Noatak get one of their coats?

For now, she put the matter out of her mind. Korra could always ask him when he was awake, but until then, she didn't want to sit around in her wraps and wait for that to happen. Tentatively, Korra slid the heavy coat around her shoulders. It was too big, but that wasn't surprising—Noatak was bigger than her, both taller and more broad in the shoulders; as such, the neckline drooped to her clavicles, and the sleeves were much too long. Korra attempted to push them up, but the wrist fastenings were too wide even for her forearms. She marveled at the size—it had seemed to fit Noatak so well, and she didn't see him as particularly large, and neither was she small. Without the size to fill it out, the buttons on the side gaped open to show glimpses of her waist. And it actually smelled quite nice—Korra mentally stomped on that thought. Well, it was better than before, Korra had to admit as she rolled the fastenings between tingling fingers. Idly, she noticed that they were quite beautiful; bits of pearlescent shell wrapped in ivory from the tusks of tiger seals. Simple, but tasteful; a stark contrast to the gaudy and overstated fashion Korra had grown used to seeing in Republic City.

She wondered if Amon... if Noatak (the other Noatak?) had worn things like this when he was young. Korra shook her head slightly, sighing, her eyes turning to the still-sleeping Noatak. After his... unexpected act of kindness, it was hard for Korra to think of him in the same angry, hateful way she had before.

And she had Aang's words to think about, too.

Friendship... could it really be that simple?

Shakily, Korra stood, her hands supporting her weight equally with her shaky knees. The coat fell to mid-thigh, just long enough to cover her wraps. Small blessings, Korra supposed, but was thankful anyway. Her hair was undone, she realized, falling loose around her shoulders instead of being held back by her usual and traditional fastenings.

Korra's face colored when she realized it. No matter her state of undress, she'd never voluntarily taken her hair down in front of others. It wasn't right, at least in Water Tribe tradition, for a woman to have her hair undone in front of just anyone. It implied sloppiness, a lack of effort or caring—or, on the other hand, in circumstances much more private, it was considered a very intimate gesture of trust. The fact that she was in private, though, and with Noatak... it was more of a subtle implication than Korra could bear, even more than the fact that he had been let into her rooms without supervision while she slept.

She was going to murder Kya.

And, of course, with that realization, Noatak began to stir.

Korra cursed her luck, the spirits, the Chief—anything she could think of.

The man groaned softly, his arms tightening where they were crossed over his torso. Unlike Korra, there was no slow fade to wakefulness; he went from asleep to immediately awake, eyes open and scanning the room to take in his unfamiliar surroundings. His gaze stopped when it landed on Korra, eyebrows drawing together in confusion before he looked to the size. Naga, finally noticing that he was awake, wagged her tail with near-violent happiness, but did not move just yet. She waited until he leaned forward and was supporting his own weight, but once Noatak was settled, Naga was up and greeting Korra with puppyish enthusiasm. Noatak observed the exchange in silence, and under his watchful eyes, Korra silently squirmed.

Luckily, it was Noatak to break the silence.

"You're okay," he observed simply, but with an underlying tone of concern that Korra might not have heard were she still so obsessed with hating him. Life had a funny way of making her realize how stupid and pigheaded she was being.

"I'm hard to kill," she replied wryly, with a slight smile, which quickly faded. "I'd offer to help you up, but, er—that would probably be a little more than either of us are equipped to deal with, at present."

Noatak frowned in contemplation, but only just then seemed to take in her state of undress. His eyes widened, darting to hers from where they had looked her over, tinted with something like guilt at being caught. What finally seemed to really embarrass him was the state of her hair, though; his scarred face flushed with discomfort, quickly turning his face away and averting his icy gaze. He muttered something under his breath as he got to his feet, looking at anything but Korra as he gathered his thoughts.

"I should—Chief Kya was worried," Noatak said rather lamely.

Korra raised a brow, her own embarrassment smothered by her amusement at the situation. "Seems she wasn't the only one," she said teasingly, drawing his eyes to hers before she gave him a once-over.

Noatak huffed slightly in a show of being affronted, but the tint of his face was now spreading down his neck, so Korra knew she had him there. "Well, I suppose there was Naga," he admitted, looking up to the ceiling in a desperate attempt to keep his eyes off her.

This situation was one huge mess of awkward, funny, and strangely flattering. Neither of her male teammates had ever really looked at her with anything other than their own boyish hormones and the difference here was—

"Naga, of course," Korra replied with a tiny twist of her lips, the polar bear dog's tail whipping from side to side at the sound of her name. Korra gave her friend a fond rub behind the ears before it hit her. "Wait, Naga—"

"She nearly barreled me over when Kya was trying to lead her," Noatak replied, and it was his turn to smile slightly. If he hadn't said it in such a good-natured manner, Korra might have been worried.

Even so, Korra grimaced; Naga and Kya didn't have the best track record. "That must have been a sight."

"Truly," he replied with humor, his grin a quick flash of teeth that seemed to light up his face in a way Korra hadn't seen in all the days she'd known him. "But Naga let me lead her, instead, and then she was perfectly well-behaved." Korra stared at him in stunned silence. After a long stretch of seconds, Noatak shrugged, seemingly equally at a loss. "It surprised me, too. I'm no great lover of animals, but Naga kept me in good company for the past few days."

"Few—few days?" Korra bit out. "How long have I been out?!"

"I believe this is the morning of the fourth day—but I could be wrong, I'm not sure how long I slept."

Korra's mouth worked but no words came out. She didn't she'd been that ill.

"Kya said you were suffering from hypothermia and frostbite, but that she healed you to the best of her ability," Noatak continued. "I—actually, she should tell you this herself, I suppose. I'll find her, shall I?" Keeping his gaze steadily away from her, Noatak went for the door.

Against Korra's better judgement, when he passed, her hand found his wrist, gently keeping her hold as not to hurt him, but firm enough to give him pause. He turned to look at her, though, whatever words she had been planning to say left her.

"Thank you," Korra said instead, meaning everything—thank you for watching Naga, thank you for not being angry, thank you for staying by my side when I've barely given you anything, and thank you for caring enough about me to sacrifice your own comfort.

The words were not said aloud, but his eyes told her that he understood.

"I'm glad you are safe," Noatak replied quietly, blue eyes locked on blue with startling sincerity. "I didn't mean to scare you, Korra, and for that, I am truly sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," she said automatically, but was surprised by the truth of it. "What you said to me—you were right. I need to be honest with you, and it wasn't fair for me to try to withhold the truth. But, there are things..." Korra's voice faltered, the dark shadow of Amon's memory making her gaze flinch away until she steeled herself and tried again. "It won't be easy, and it's going to take time, but my behavior was immature and uncalled for."

He searched her face like he could find the answers written there. "And those are the thoughts that kept you in the cold until you nearly died?"

"Like I said, I'm hard to kill," she answered, a lump raising in her throat and panic in her chest.

Well, it was now or never.

"I'm the Avatar."