Author's note: There is a fair bit of Lieumon (and a rather slashy dream) in this chapter, FYI.

Dreams are funny things, you know.

He's used to having the lights on when he sleeps, but there's something unnerving about the glow of Republic City filtering through the apartment windows; it seems...unnatural, ironically enough.

Korra is sound asleep and drooling into the pillows, but he finds it oddly endearing. He strokes her cheek and she mumbles something unintelligible in her unconsciousness.

He smiles sadly.

I love her. I really do.

He just wishes he wasn't so terrible at saying it. Not just saying it, but doing it – being in love – love as an action, not just a thought or feeling. Having the trust that supposedly comes naturally with being in love.

I can't even trust her with my name - my real name, he thinks.

We both can think of several reasons why that's a bad idea.

I don't care about whether it's "wise" or "strategic." It's my name. After all that's happened between us, she's more than earned it.

And yet, he still stays silent.

And not for the first time.

His intimacy problems have reared their collective heads in all of his relationships (romantic or otherwise), and he has never really stopped to examine and confront the reasons for his problems.

Your father was a monster who didn't love you.

Thank you for stating the obvious, he replies, rolling his eyes.

But to be perfectly honest, love wasn't the issue. He had received an abundance of love from his mother; he had learned how he should treat other people, how to love other people from her. But despite his mother's warm heart and generous nature, he had never really connected with her on an emotional level, at least not in the way that Tarrlok had.

The issue was definitely Yakone, but it wasn't that his father was without love, but that he'd taught Noatak to disdain love, to disregard it.

"Love and sentiment are weaknesses you can't afford to have. But boys, you must always take the opportunity to exploit love in other people." Yakone chuckled. "The things people will do for love…it's astounding."

"But what about mamae?" asked a confused Tarrlok. "You tell her you love her all the time."

"I…care about your mother," answered Yakone unconvincingly. "Deeply. In my own special way. I tell her I love her because she wants to hear it, and I get so much in return." He grinned at their perplexed expressions. "But you'll figure that out when you're older."

And that was before Yakone forced bloodbending on them.

Now his brother was rotting in a cell beneath Republic City – and he'd put him there.

"Love and sentiment are weaknesses you can't afford to have."

He'd wondered a great deal about what drove Tarrlok to kidnap Korra. Had he succumbed to the "weaknesses" that their father had railed against, and had merely panicked when his life was threatened? Or was Tarrlok haunted by the same demons found in Noatak's own soul, and had lashed out in anger when he realized that Korra refused to be manipulated any longer.

He suspected that as things currently stood he'd never get an answer: all attempts to converse with Tarrlok were met with angry silence, and aside from the initial outburst when he'd rescued her, Korra never said another word about the incident either.

He looks down at the young woman in his bed and marvels at how one man has managed to wreck so much chaos and devastation from beyond the grave.

He nestles down beside Korra and closes his eyes.

Family. What a nightmare, he thinks as sleep overtakes him.

In the morning he goes to the weekly Equalist planning meeting, and it's nothing but good news: all the new pilots for the planes and mechs are trained; their spy in the United Forces had recently been promoted and had convinced her superiors to organize a two-week naval exercise in waters well away from Republic City; furthermore, the disparate cells in the Fire Nation capital and Ba Sing Se were coordinating to stage massive attacks that would end the war games and send the fleets scattered about the world; Amon's branch would seize control of Republic City and by the time what UF troops could be spared arrived to retake the city, the Equalists would already have an impeccable defense and a host of civilians to make an assault incredibly difficult for the opposing army.

And in the midst of all the chaos, benders would be disabled, captured and brought before Amon to be cleansed.

He feels ecstatic. That is the feeling coursing through his body and certainly not regret, because feeling regret at this juncture would be highly inappropriate and entirely counterproductive.

I'm really going to lose Korra, he thinks soberly.

I seem to remember that both of you were perfectly fine with that outcome. In fact, you've both made the same assertion of that fact on many occasions.

Things were...different then.

Really? Because I'm not seeing much difference between you two's stupidity then and your stupidity now-

"That's enough from you!" he yells, and then realizes his last sentence was not a silent thought but a rather public exclamation.

The assembled parties stare at him, and the poor boy from the engineering department who'd just been speaking has a look of shame on his face.

"I'm sorry everyone, I just-" His affinity for lying suddenly deserts him. "I was having an internal debate, and I became overly irate with my sparring partner."

He's relieved when he receives quite a few nods of understanding (and even some chuckles) from around the table.

"We'll adjourn for the time being. Meetings will now be held every three days until the week of, and then they'll be daily." His talent for lying suddenly returns. "I have many matters to resolve before our target date. I may not be able to attend all the planning sessions. Rest assured that the Lieutenant will be present and is authorized to speak on my behalf should I be absent. Meeting adjourned."

Everyone stands up and bows to him in awkward, fragmented little groups before filing out of the meeting room, closing the door behind them. Only the Lieutenant remains behind.

"That's quite the vote of confidence, naming me your proxy in your absence," says Lieu, casually folding his arms across his chest.

"It shouldn't surprise you, nor is it out of order. "

"I never said anything to that effect," counters the Lieutenant. "Like I said, it's quite the vote of confidence." He frowns. "Sir...what are you going to tell the Avatar?"

He freezes.

The Lieutenant sighs and unfolds his arms. "Sir, please tell me you have an exit strategy."

Silence.

"By the spirits you've really fallen for her haven't you?"

To his surprise, there is no disapproval or contempt in Lieu's voice, only concern and amazement.

"I'll deal with it." Somehow, he adds silently.

"Sir, are you going to have a prob-"

"I said I'll deal with it," he growls.

The Lieutenant gives a stiff bow. "Yes sir. Permission to be dismissed, sir. "

"Granted," he says, waving the other man away.

As he watches the Lieutenant walk to the door, he thinks about the previous night, and his attempts to try and identify the source of his problems with Korra, and he remembers everything that went wrong with the Lieutenant, and how part of him still wishes it hadn't gone the way it did.

When the impulse to make amends seizes him, he listens to it.

"Wait," he says, walking over to his second-in-command and clasping his hands within his own.

Lieu blushes reflexively. "Sir?" he asks nervously.

"I have been feeling...retrospective, of late. I've been thinking about certain things...certain people." He pauses to take a deep breath. "I want to apologize. About us. The way things went, and the way things ended." He moves one hand to Lieu's cheek. "I know you loved me. I wanted to love you back, to completely share myself with you...but it's in my nature to manipulate the emotions of others, not indulge in them myself. I used you. I used you and in doing so hurt you and could've hurt the Equalist movement as well. I wouldn't have blamed you for walking away. You came for the cause but you stayed because of me. I can't betray that trust again."

The silence that follows feels painfully long and he can't read the Lieutenant's expression. Finally, it cracks into a hopeful smile.

"I was wrong about her," says Lieu softly. "You're much less of an emotional brick than you used to be." He heads for the door, but stops his hand on the wood before he can swing it open. "I can probably stretch things by a week, but no more than that," says Lieu. "I'll make the usual bureaucratic excuses. Three weeks to say goodbye sir. Make the most of them." He leaves and closes the door behind him.

Three weeks, he laments. Three weeks to say goodbye.

Still, talking with the Lieutenant...he feels...better. It's a nice feeling.

He hopes it'll last.

That night, he has the dream.

It's the dream where his slippery hands can't get a grip on anything around him, the dream where calloused fingers run lovingly against his sides, the dream where a moustache tickles against his ear, where a stiff cock slides in and out of his body and he is left boneless and breathless.

It's the dream where he is scared stiff, yet he feels completely safe in the embrace of the man above him.

"It's all right," Lieu whispers in one ear. "I'm here for you. Let me take care of you."

And then Korra suddenly appears under him, her body warm and wet around him, her skin like silk against his own, her muscles squeezing him ever closer to ecstasy.

"Let us take care of you," she whispers in the other ear.

And the feeling inside him gets brighter and hotter until-

He catapults off the bed feeling hot, sweaty and agitated.

He'd occasionally had dreams about Lieu after the breakup, but never since getting with Korra. And he had never, ever entertained the thought of having both of them at the same time.

More like both of them having you at the same time.

He looks over at Korra and the guilt pounces. I shouldn't be dreaming about a past lover when I'm in bed with my current one.

In bed, maybe not. In bed, on the other hand, and you might have a problem.

You're so helpful, he responds with as much sass as he can summon in his drowsy, disoriented state.

And it's not just the guilt that's bothering him: his erection strains painfully against the waistline of his trousers.

Well…aren't you going to take care of that?

Go…away… is his mortified reply.

Thankfully there is no further "advice" from the spirit on his shoulder (or wherever in/on/around his body that annoying bastard makes its home).

Still, he quietly gets out of bed and retreats into the privacy of the bathroom.

He tries to keep his thoughts firmly on Korra.

Breakfast is a muted affair; toasted bread and sea prune juice (because someone promised to go shopping and forgot, probably because she's never had to shop for food a day in her life – or wasn't even allowed to go food shopping, he realizes sadly).

He watches as Korra attacks her portion of bread, sniffs the prune juice, takes a sip and grimaces.

"You know, I generally like this better when it's fruit."

"It still tastes the same," he says, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but…the texture is all wrong when you mush it up into juice. I like them whole. And covered in chocolate." There's a dreamy look in her eyes. "Those are the best."

"Now you're not just a member of the bending elite, but a food snob as well." He raises his arms in mock distress. "I've unleashed a monster."

He decides not to mention that chocolate-covered sea prunes are a favorite of his as well.

"Judging from the noise you were making last night, I'm not the one who unleashed a monster."

He fumbles his drinking cup and it falls to the floor, spilling juice everywhere.

"I…I…" All the blood rushes to his face.

"That was quite the dream you were having," she says, casually taking another sip of her juice. "I figured I shouldn't disturb you, pretended to still be asleep."

"You saw-"

"You weren't in the bathroom very long. Man, I must've been goooo-" He tries not to look guilty, but she sees his shifting eyes and her own narrow in response. "You weren't thinking about me, were you?"

"Yes! Well, no. You were there, but..." The words spill out of his mouth. "I'm sorry, I don't even know why; I swear, it ended ages ago-"

"Amon-"

"I was having a conversation yesterday and I was thinking about things and...I suddenly just wanted – no, needed to clear the air-"

"Who-"

"And then last night I had the dream out of nowhere, and I certainly wasn't expecting…Korra, I swear to you, I have no interest in resuming-"

But then her eyes light up and the scowl turns into a triumphant smile. "You were totally dreaming about the Lieutenant, weren't you?"

He covers his face in embarrassment. "Oh, hell."

"I knew it! I fucking knew it!" She pumps a fist in victory. "I've always gotten a weird vibe from him, and now I know why. It's the 'oh crap, I have to work with my ex-boyfriend every single day even though I still secretly pine for him' vibe." She stops abruptly. "That's a little too close to home, actually."

"Wait, what?" he says, temporarily gaining a foothold.

"This conversation is all about you," she says, shutting him down with a pointed finger. "Talk."

"About?"

"You and him."

"What?"

She stares at him expectantly.

"This isn't…I don't think…"

"We could talk about the dre-"

"Fine."

He takes a deep breath.

"We met early on, him and me. It was in Ba Sing Se, about five or six years after I left home."

"Why'd you leave home?"

To lie, or be honest?

He decides that in the interest of brevity he'd tell her the truth.

"My father was a bastard," he begins. "He was cold, cruel, controlling. One day he pushed too far, and after having a fight, I left. But he'd already left his mark in more ways than one." You're saying too much, Noa. Pull it back. "The Lieutenant was with me when I planted the first seeds of what would eventually become the Equalist movement. For the first decade or so I kept myself a whisper, a rumor, a shadow. He was one of the few tangible and lasting relationships I had. As the movement grew he began to admire me, though not without cause, and I him – soon that admiration turned to love." His face falls. "Well, at least on his part. When he eventually worked up the courage to ask for a physical relationship, not just a working one, I…did not object."

"So what was it like?"

"Spirits, woman, do I really have to tell you this?"

"Yes," was her insistent reply.

"It was…it satisfied certain needs. Other needs remained unsatisfied – the emotional ones. I have since been forced to confront those deficiencies in our own relationship, and I suspect my conversation with the Lieutenant yesterday had a much greater impact than I anticipated."

"What was it about?"

"It was an apology…I expressed regret for the way I conducted myself – emotionally – during our time together."

"So what happened in the dream?"

"Korra, please."

"I'm not going to judge you. I promise."

He struggles to compose himself. "You were under me, on your back." (She rolls her eyes.) "He was…behind me. He was…well, you can probably guess. I couldn't get a grip on anything, everything was just too sweaty and-" He squints at Korra's expression, because her eyes look glassy and far away, but he blinks and they're clear and focused again. "It was…strange. Good strange. I mean, I had plenty of those dreams when we were together but not since we ended that part of our relationship." He clenches his hands, moving his fingers up and down against his palms. "It was mostly hands and mouths for us – well, mostly my hands and mouth," he admits. "I would occasionally indulge him in intercourse, but...I was always the giver." He unclenches his hands and stares at them. "I needed to feel like I had control at all times. Having control helped me keep my emotions out of the equation."

"So in the dream you feel-"

"Vulnerable. Exposed. Scared out of my wits. Not just physically, but emotionally. I was trusting." He pauses momentarily. "My father taught me that such feelings are a weakness and only to be used as a tool to exploit things I want from other people. I am never supposed to succumb to them myself." He smiles weakly at her. "So much for that, I'm afraid."

Korra sighs, crosses the room and lays her hands on his face. "Look, Amon – we want what we want. We love who we love. And sometimes we want things that are bad for us, and sometimes we love people who are bad to us. I can think of someone who I once thought qualified as that for me." She leans in closer. "But as it turns out, it wasn't a bad thing for me to love you or to want to explore that to the fullest; and in turn, it wasn't bad for you to love the Lieutenant, or to want to explore that love to its fullest. Look," she says with a look of determination on her face, "I get that your father was an asshole and he made your childhood hell. Some of that is never going to go away. But until you try - I mean really try - try until the frustration leaves you in tears at night and your demons spawn a thousand more limbs to keep you down because you're so close to freedom - then you're never gonna master your fears and yourself." She kisses him on the cheek. "But even if you can't completely change that part of you, you have changed, you know. And for what it's worth, even if you don't believe it when you say it - I know you love me. Take comfort in that."

"Thank you, Korra."

He then points to her glass.

"Now finish your juice."

Author's note: To be continued in Part 2!

(Don't worry, I'm not planning to make this an OT3 fic, though it could make an interesting one-shot. Besides, Amorralok is my ultimate LoK OT3 3.)