Lunch isn't as awkward as it could be. Beifong remains (mercifully) absent, while Korra only turns up to grab a chunk of bread and skulk off again. Tarrlok and Katara sit in the courtyard and eat in silence.
Afterwards, Tarrlok returns to the guest room. He hunts through desk drawers until he finds a writing kit. He spends a while grinding the ink to the perfect consistency.
Then he inks the brush and confronts the blank piece of paper.
When he tries to begin the report by writing down the date and time, time, the ink has already dried out.
He cleans the ink stone with the hem of his shirt, not wanting to go back outside to get a cloth, and repeats the process of grinding the ink.
Just as he touches the brush to the paper again, someone knocks on the door.
"Come in," he says, because telling them to fuck off just isn't an option.
Korra opens the door by a crack, and peers into the room. "Um, hi. Am I interrupting?"
Yes. "No, of course not," Tarrlok replies.
Korra ventures a few steps inside, then proceeds to gawk at the Air Nomad scroll on the wall... Which, in all fairness, is much prettier than Tarrlok right now.
"So. Did you sleep well?" Korra asks, attention still on the scroll.
"I slept just fine, thank you. Can I help you with something?"
"No. I just, uh- what are you doing?"
"Katara asked for a written account of what happened after I-... Well, after I ended up on Air Temple Island."
Korra stops pretending to read the stupid scroll, and takes a good look at Tarrlok. He wonders what she's thinking. Probably 'do I want to be alone in a room with this man?' (no) or 'how did this asshole get appointed as head of the council?' (blackmail, partly) or 'why the does he have an ink stain on his shirt?' (it was already a bad shirt). She then moves closer so she can peer over his shoulder, eyeing the blank paper on the desk.
After a long pause, she offers, "I could write things down for you."
"That's very... helpful, but I can write just fine," Tarrlok says, although there's no reason why Korra shouldn't write things for him. He won't have any secrets from her. She'll probably read the report after it's complete anyway. And perhaps dictation will speed up the writing process.
"Okay," Korra says, flatly.
"Though, actually, I think I'll take you up on your offer," Tarrlok adds. He stands up so Korra can have his chair.
Korra squints at him. She sits down and picks up the writing brush.
"You can start by writing down 'nineteenth day of the eleventh month'," Tarrlok begins, then realizes that he's starting with the day that he kidnapped her. "Wait. No. 'twentieth day of the eleventh month, tenth hour'."
Korra ponderously drags the brush over the paper, then looks up.
Tarrlok tries to think of what comes next.
"Tarrlok?" Korra prompts.
"I'm thinking."
Korra watches him. She chews the end of the brush handle. It was a very nice brush, too. It looked like one of the more expensive ones.
Tarrlok checks what she's written so far. Twentieth day of the eleventh month, tenth hour. Yes, that's certainly a sentence. That's a good start. The paper looks a little less blank now. Which is good.
...Though Korra's brush strokes are rather sloppy. Wasn't she raised by the White Lotus? The Avatar is meant to be an effective communicator. Couldn't the White Lotus at least teach proper penmanship?"
"Your writing is worse than mine, and I used to be right-handed," Tarrlok mutters, then pauses because oh for the love of Yue's left tit why did he just say that out loud? What's wrong with him? (And has something always been wrong with him, or can he blame it on Noatak somehow?)
"I'm trying to help you out here," Korra snaps, slamming the brush against the desk.
"I know. Sorry."
Korra keeps watching him, now with narrowed eyes.
Tarrlok gets a strange urge to take a small step backwards.
Korra clears her throat. "So, are you going to tell me what else to write, or are you just going to stand there and look at me like you think I'm stupid?"
"I don't think you're stupid," Tarrlok says, automatically.
"Yeah, you do. When you were a councilman you used to act like you thought everybody was stupid."
That's not true, but it's also not worth fighting over. "Well, I'm no longer a councilman," Tarrlok says (without wincing), "and I don't think you're stupid." ('Spoiled' would be a more charitable description.)
Korra's expression remains sour, but she picks up the writing brush again, and looks back at the paper. "Fine, whatever. Now what?"
"I'm thinking," Tarrlok repeats.
Korra blows a few strands of hair out of her face. "You don't really want to do this, do you?"
"What?"
"The whole 'writing an account about Air Temple Island' thing."
"Actually, I do. I'm just... not very articulate lately."
"Yeah, maybe that's normal, might be a side-effect of, uh-" Korra taps her forehead with her index finger.
That'd be a convenient explanation. "Maybe."
"I felt pretty weird after I lost my bending that time," Korra adds.
"Oh."
"I couldn't think properly, and... I don't know. It was bad."
How is Tarrlok meant to reply to that? Should he make sympathetic noises? Should he apologize on Noatak's behalf? "But you're alright now, aren't you?" he asks.
"Yeah. I feel much better."
"Good," Tarrlok says, and hopes it doesn't sound a little flat.
Korra studies him for another moment (and he can already tell that this is another another thing he'll grow tired of: tired of being looked at, tired being assessed, tired of people trying to understand, and oh wonderful here comes another bout of self-pity), and then she says, "Do you want your bending back?"
Tarrlok's mouth skips ahead of his brain, and he hears himself say, "Why are you asking me that?"
"I dunno. Just wondering."
"No, I don't want it back. Why do you need to know? Is this some kind of test?"
Korra leans away from him. "What? No. Now you're being weird."
"Then why did you ask?" Tarrlok says, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. Old habits die hard, and there's still a part of him that wants to move closer to the girl and invade her personal space. She's sitting, he's standing; it'd be easy to put an arm on the desk and loom over her. Korra looks deceptively small, sometimes.
He tells himself that he's stupid, but he's not that stupid.
"I just, I mean, I thought-..." Korra begins, then holds up her hands. "Never mind, I get it, you don't want it back. Forget I said anything."
Tarrlok takes a deep breath and counts to five. "Isn't there a waiting list for that sort of thing, anyway?"
"Not really." Korra keeps her back straight, remaining on guard. "I've fixed most of people who Amon messed up."
"Most of them?"
"Most of the ones we know about, anyhow. I mean, I've fixed all the ones who've asked. I guess there might still be a few guys out there who don't want to talk to me because they're worried I might arrest them, maybe, but there can't be that many left."
"So you're helping anyone who comes to you?"
"I guess."
"You don't have a, ah, vetting process of sorts?"
Korra shrugs, now making an effort to hide any residual unease. "No."
"Why not?"
Korra gives him that 'now you're being weird' look again. "You can't, uh, vet people so you can decide if they should have something that was always theirs in the first place."
"What about criminals?"
Korra gives another shrug, although it's more of an irritable twitch this time. "I'd give them their bending back and then arrest them."
"Wouldn't it be easier to do it the other way around?"
"It hasn't really been an issue yet," Korra mutters. "Because they're avoiding me. Like I said."
"It's the principle of it, though. Does the general public condone the idea of you helping criminals?"
"Yeah, uh, no, not really, but it's my decision." Korra gives a little huff like she's quickly becoming bored with this conversation. "The way I understand it is, you only take someone's bending away if you've not got any other option... I mean, no other option beside, uh, killing them, anyway. It's a, what's it, a you know, a compromise, and people that dangerous are pretty rare, like-"
"Like bloodbenders."
"Maybe. But, like... I was the first human you'd ever bloodbent, right? And you hated doing it?"
"Yes. But you only have my word on that."
"What, you're saying I shouldn't believe you?"
"I think you're just a little too trusting, that's all."
"I am not," Korra grumbles. "You were honest with me about Amon, so..."
"Again, it's a matter of principle. I attacked you. If someone attacks you, then you should always treat that person as a potential threat."
Korra props her elbow on the desk and rests her chin on her palm. She stares at him in frustration, as if she's not sure whether she's currently engaged in an argument or not... And if she is engaged in an argument, then she doesn't know what it's about, or who's meant to be winning. Eventually, she says, "Well, I attacked you back. Will you always see me as a potential threat?"
Tarrlok draws a very deep breath before answering. "Yes."
"Do you hate me?" Korra asks, brow still furrowed.
"No."
Korra jabs her index finger at him. "So... Let me get this right: you like me, but you're scared of me?"
Why does she have to phrase it like that? "I think you're a promising young woman who could grow up to be someone strong, fair, and charismatic and I'm not about to forget that you came alarmingly close to setting me on fire."
"Yeah. That happened," Korra mutters. She's quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "...For what it's worth, I promise I won't try to set you on fire again."
"Good."
"Unless you act like a dick."
"Duly noted."
"So you'll be less of a dick in future, right?"
"I'll try."
"If you act like a dick, I'll tell you."
"Uh, before or after you try to set me on fire?"
"Before. Obviously."
"Very well."
Korra sticks out her chin and slowly nods. "Now are we going to write this report about Air Temple Island together or not?"
Tarrlok tries to think of an answer to that. His mind feels like it's a broken radio. If he listens hard enough, maybe he can hear the hiss of static, sibilant as waves against shore.
"You can say 'no'," Korra says, in a tone that suggests she's pretty close to throwing the writing brush at him. Future generations will remember Avatar Korra for many things, but she won't be remembered for her patience.
"Perhaps you'd better let me write it by myself," Tarrlok replies. "I just need to get my head straightened out."
"You could try meditating," Korra offers.
Tarrlok manages to ask "Do you think that'd help?" without grimacing.
"...Probably not," Korra admits. "But I wondering what Katara or Tenzin would tell me if I was in your situation, and they'd say, 'try meditating', so..." She stands up from the chair, and glances down at the floor. She looks worryingly young for a moment. "I'm sorry. I just feel like I should be doing more to help, or something."
"Don't worry about it. I'm fine," Tarrlok says.
Korra gives him another one of those annoyingly speculative looks, then says, "Sheesh, I don't know. This entire situation sucks. Do you want a hug?"
Tarrlok takes a moment to make sure he's heard her correctly. "Excuse me, what? No. Don't offer hugs to strange men."
"Uh, I think I can hug who I like, thanks," Korra says, and somehow manages to make it sound like a threat.
Tarrlok almost tells her to have some propriety, then checks himself. "If you say so. But I'm alright."
"You don't look alright."
"I-"
"Seriously, you look like crap."
"Thank you, Avatar Korra, your opinion on my appearance has been noted," Tarrlok says. "I will be alright after I've finished this report. Which I was trying to write. Until you stopped by. Thank you."
"Fine, I'm going," Korra says, and marches out the room.
Tarrlok retakes his seat at the desk so he can resume staring at the blank paper.
He picks up the writing brush, studies the teeth marks in the handle, and tsks.
When Katara is required to be patient, she sews.
She's not sure why. No one needs her to repair their clothes; no one's going to ask her to make a pair of kamiks for them. The only nice thing she can say about sewing is that it reminds her of winter nights long past, spent indoors with her grandmother, snug in the warmth of an oil lamp. Her hands move of their own accord, in spite of the pain in her knuckles. There's something hypnotic about the rise and fall of the needle, the push-pull.
And she's better at sewing than she is at gardening, oddly enough. Gardening would be her other method for killing time, but plants only appreciate so much interference, and Katara has never known when to leave things well alone. (Sometimes she sheepishly looks at the two perfect peach trees in the courtyard, and she wants to apologize to them.)
Today, she leaves the garden in peace, and sits on the lawn of the courtyard while she makes socks for her youngest grandson. You can never have too many socks. Hers is a family that spends a lot of time on its feet.
Around mid-day, just as she's using her remaining teeth to break a piece of thread, she senses Tarrlok's approach. His heartbeat reminds her of a rabbit's.
Katara's gut instinct tells her to stand up and face him.
Just for once, she ignores her gut instinct.
She ties off the thread.
Tarrlok hesitates when he's several paces away from her. Then he moves closer until he's just at the edge of her vision, says something that she doesn't quite catch - probably 'ma'am?' - and offers a rolled up piece of paper, holding it at arm's length.
"Ah, thank you," Katara says, looking up. She takes the paper - presumably the report she asked for earlier - and tucks it into her sewing kit. She'd like to smile at Tarrlok as if to tell him that things will be alright, but she knows he wouldn't believe it for a moment. "Sit with me."
Tarrlok casts a wary glance around the courtyard before kneeling on the grass. He keeps his back straight and rests his hands on his knees, and affects the same blank expression that he had when Lin brought him here yesterday.
Katara eyes the ink stain on his shirt. "You know, if you ever need to borrow anything that you find in this house - within reason, of course - just go ahead and take it."
Tarrlok follows her line of sight to the stain. "That's very generous. Thank you."
"Did you come all this way without bothering to bring any spare clothes?"
"It... seems that way," Tarrlok says, blinking at her.
"That wasn't very sensible."
Tarrlok offers a brief, thin smile. "Sorry."
"Have you left any belongings back at the temple where you were staying?"
"No."
"Ah," Katara sighs. "I've been meaning to ask if you would've had any items that belonged to Noatak, but-"
Tarrlok shakes his head, offers another, "Sorry," then adds, "I assume you're asking because you intend to send a shirshu tracker after him?"
"Correct."
"Hmm." Tarrlok looks up at the sky and scratches his chin. "Why didn't you send one after me?" There's no judgment in his tone, just tired curiosity.
"We did. It didn't work," Katara tells him. "Apparently you smell different now."
Tarrlok stops scratching his chin, eyes widening by a fraction.
"And I'm not implying that you need a bath," Katara adds.
Tarrlok relaxes a little.
"Anyway, yes, you were surprisingly tricky to locate," Katara says. "Though perhaps that's a good thing. I'm just glad we got to you before the Equalists did." It'd be so easy to hurt Tarrlok to get to Amon. It'd be so easy to use Tarrlok as bait. She won't pretend that she hasn't considered it.
"Are they still that much of a problem?" Tarrlok frowns. Katara can imagine him piecing his knowledge of the world back together, handling the shards carefully. "I don't really recall hearing anyone talk about them much while I was at the temple."
Katara puffs out her cheeks and lets out a deep breath. "I think that, by this point, the only Equalists left are the really tenacious ones."
Tarrlok falls silent. Katara studies his worry lines, and compares his face to the photographs she's seen of him. Tarrlok then says, very slowly, "When was Noatak last seen, by the way?"
"About a month ago."
"What was he doing?"
Running away from someone. "He was in a town called Ruyi, living as a vagrant," Katara says. "He appeared to be in decent health."
(Healthy enough to run away, at least.)
Tarrlok eyes her. Katara waits to see if he'll accuse her of being economical with the truth, but... No. He knows she's withholding information, but he doesn't comment on it, and she's left feeling a little disgusted with herself.
"If he's still alive, you'll find him, won't you?" Tarrlok asks, with misplaced hope.
Katara should say, 'I'll try'. That would be reasonable. But instead, she says, "Of course. I've already made travel arrangements to the Earth Kingdom."
Tarrlok nods. His expression remains thoughtful. "Well, if you find him, please don't, uh. Don't make him suffer. No matter what he does."
Katara forces a smile. "I'm not that sort of person, Tarrlok."
Tarrlok just gets a look on his face like he's trying to think of the most tactful way to say, 'I don't believe that'. He's wrong, though. Katara isn't as vindictive as she'd sometimes like to be.
"When are you leaving?" Tarrlok says.
"Next week, actually. It's pure luck that we had this opportunity to speak while I was still in the United Republic."
"Then, if you don't mind my asking, what are your plans for me?"
"Well, like I said, you're a source of controversy. If things were solely up to me, I'd want you around during the course of the investigation; I'd ask you to come with me to the Earth Kingdom," Katara replies, struggling to keep an apologetic note out of her voice. "However, there are certain parties who think you should stand trial as soon as possible. I think that some of their concerns are valid. And there's a limit to how much I can bend the law-"
Tarrlok interrupts. "Let me guess, the rest of the Council has rushed to denounce me as a dangerous lunatic, and they're saying that all of the problems in the city are somehow my fault."
"Something like that. People were certainly quick to drag your name through the mud after you went missing," Katara says. "But-"
Tarrlok interrupts again. "Wait. Does the Council know that I've been caught?"
"Tenzin's the only person on the Council who knows," Katara says, and vows to clout him the next time he talks over her.
Tarrlok just says, "Ah." His expression doesn't change. At all.
"For the time being, we've reached a compromise," Katara adds. "You won't be standing trial any time soon, but you're to remain in White Lotus custody. You'll be staying at one of our compounds on the outskirts of the city, partly supervised by the Republic City police." Mostly for his own protection.
"I really am being detained indefinitely?" Tarrlok says. If he has more than two braincells to bang together, then he should appreciate the irony of this.
Katara shrugs. "The official excuse is that you'll be staying in White Lotus custody for medical reasons."
"What medical reasons-..." Tarrlok begins, and then something clicks. He slowly breathes in, perhaps trying to decide if he should feel offended or guilty. Then he glances to his damaged hand, and he apparently feels the need to state, "...Look, for the record, but I'm not about to do anything... problematic. As I've said, I genuinely want to see that Noatak is found, and I want to help as much as possible." The last sentence sounds a little rehearsed.
"You won't have people constantly watching you, if that's what you're concerned about," Katara says, and leaves it at that.
"So I'm being detained indefinitely," Tarrlok replies, gaze lowered. "Very well. I'm in no position to argue with that."
Katara wants to reach out and pat his shoulder.
"...Hang on," says Tarrlok, as if he's just realized something. "...Has anyone been feeding my fish while I've been away?"
"I'd assume so, but I can double-check," Katara says, without batting an eye at the question. Although she's not overly thrilled about the prospect of telling Tarrlok that, on top of everything else, his fish have starved to death. If the worst comes to the worst, perhaps she could get someone to speak with his former housekeeper and buy him some new fish that are identical to the old ones. That trick worked on Kya, once, about... oh, a little under fifty years ago.
"Thank you," Tarrlok mutters.
"Is there anything else you want me to check on?"
Tarrlok keeps his gaze on the ground, though he furrows his brow for a moment. "No. Just the fish."
Katara is about to ask him if there's anything he needs from Republic City - any personal belongings, and so on - but something catches Tarrlok's attention, and he looks up, watching the main gate. Katara squints and tries to see what he's staring at.
It takes a while for her to notice the faint rumble of an engine; Tarrlok would've heard it long before she did. Just as her ears adjust to the sound, the engine stops, and a courier walks into the courtyard, pushing a Satocycle. The insignia of the White Lotus is clearly visible on the left sleeve of his leathers.
The courier removes his helmet and goggles, shakes some of the sweat out of his hair, then walks over. He must be one of the new ones, because he seems slightly nervous. Katara's mind searches for his name as he bows and says, "Grand Lotus."
"Cho, right?" Katara asks.
"Ma'am." The goggle marks around his eyes make him look like an owl. He takes a scroll case out of his jacket and hands it over, only briefly glancing at Tarrlok.
"Help yourself to anything in the kitchen," Katara says, and weighs the scroll case in her hands. Well, at least it's not too heavy. It never bodes well when someone hands you a scroll that could double as a rolling pin.
Katara and waves away Cho's muttered, 'Thank you, ma'am', and opens the case.
She unrolls the scroll just enough to see Tenzin's seal. She wonders if the scroll really contains Official Business, or if Tenzin just wanted an excuse to use fancy stationary. The fact that the missive was delivered by courier suggests the former, but you can never tell with that boy.
Out the corner of her eye, she sees Tarrlok watching her patiently, like a dog by a dinner table.
"I think I should go inside and find my reading glasses," Katara muses, though this excuse is pretty transparent. If she can sew without the aid of glasses, then one could argue that she shouldn't need them for reading the scroll.
Tarrlok picks up on the hint that she wants to be alone, and stands up. He moves slowly, but still with a certain fluidity (though he could stand to eat a few meals, Katara notes).
"Would you mind holding out your hand?" Katara asks.
Tarrlok almost offers his right hand, hesitates, then offers his left, instead.
"Thank you." Katara takes his hand and uses it to pull herself up. She's a concerned that she might just pull him over because she's heavier than she looks, but he provides enough leverage for her to stand and straighten her knees.
Katara dusts off her skirt, sticks Tenzin's scroll in her sewing kit next to Tarrlok's report, offers Tarrlok a small bow, and heads inside the house.
When Tarrlok is back in the guest room, taking far too long to choose a clean shirt from the small selection in the wardrobe, he hears shouting.
The voice is definitely Korra's, and it's coming from somewhere inside the house. He hears her yell something that sounds like, 'BUT THAT'S JUST POINTLESS'.
Tarrlok puts his ear to the wall and listens for a rebuttal, or furniture being smashed, or... something, but there's nothing, just the creak of floorboards and the distant rattle of the cicadas in the surrounding woods.
He tells himself that it's none of his business, and resumes staring at shirts. (A quiet voice at the back of his mind points out that the shirts are all near-identical anyway.)
A little while later, he hears a the engine of a Satomobile. By the time he looks outside, though, the vehicle has gone.
In the early evening, someone knocks on the door of the guest room. Tarrlok expects it to be Korra.
Instead, he finds Beifong. Ah. He was wondering when she'd turn up again. He fights the urge to close the door in her face, aware that she'd probably just tear the thing off its hinges and throw it at him.
"Tarrlok," Beifong says, pronouncing his name as if it's something you'd find on your hands after squeezing an infected pimple.
"Yes, that would be me," Tarrlok replies, and leaves off adding, 'unfortunately'.
"Hope you've not got too comfortable here." Beifong takes a step back so she isn't blocking the doorway. "You're leaving. This way."
Tarrlok stays inside the guest room.
Part of him wonders if he should apologize to Beifong - sure, he made her lose her job, but it wasn't anything personal (and besides, she brought it on herself, and it's a known fact that she only became chief through family connections anyway) - while another part of him just wants to tell her to fuck right off. She's not Korra, and she's not Katara, and therefore he doesn't owe her anything. She's just collateral damage. She's an overpaid beat cop who's been promoted well beyond her level of incompetence.
He should probably say something, but he's not sure what.
Beifong scowls at him for a moment, then puts her hands on her hips. "Well?"
It dawns on Tarrlok that he could very well spend the rest of his life taking orders from useless little people who hate him.
"When you say I'm leaving, you mean I'm going to stay with the White Lotus? Now?"
"Yeah."
"Shouldn't I at least say goodbye to Katara before I go?"
"She's gone. Called away on business," Beifong replies. "You want to tell her anything, I'll pass it on to her."
"I just wanted to thank her for her hospitality, that's all." Tarrlok tells himself to get a grip, and starts walking. Beifong stays a step behind him, keeping him in view.
Beifong directs him to a satomobile - the same one he arrived in - parked outside the house. Korra is already slouched on the back seat, with her arms crossed; Tarrlok glances through the window at her, and gets a good glimpse of the truly spectacular pout the Avatar is wearing. Korra, to her credit, has somehow managed to produce an expression that's even more sour than Beifong's. The girl looks as if she should have a tiny storm cloud floating over her head. Perhaps she could make one.
Tarrlok gets a slight sense of foreboding.
He sits down in the passenger seat.
Beifong slams the Satomobile door like she intends to break it, then gets in from the driver's side and starts the engine.
Tarrlok refrains from looking out the windows of the vehicle. He just contemplates the shirt he's wearing, and wishes he'd picked another.
They drive in silence for a while before Beifong asks, out of nowhere, "Have you told him yet?"
Tarrlok isn't sure who she's addressing at first, and then he realizes that the 'him' might be... well, him.
Behind him, Korra's seat creaks as she fidgets. "I was going to. In a while. Soon," she says.
"Told me what?" Tarrlok says. (He's spent the past few months in the temple with people talking about him as if he isn't present. People can knock it off.)
Korra grumbles, "Tenzin's set on pressing charges 'cos you attacked him and the rest of the council."
Ah. Wait. Is that all? Is that really why Korra looks so sullen? "That's... rather what I was expecting," Tarrlok says, turning to look back at her. There has to be more to her bad mood than that, right?
Korra just lets out a small huff, as if she's the one who'll be charged for bloodbending.
Tarrlok casts a furtive glance at Beifong. Beifong should be among the people who'll testify against him, after all. But Beifong just looks straight ahead and concentrates on driving. If she's gloating, she's doing a good job of hiding it. (Though gloating would imply that Beifong is capable of pleasure, and it's a known fact that the woman's face would crack if she smiled.)
The rest of the journey is uneventful, punctuated only by the occasional grumpy teenage sigh from the back seat.
The landscape changes, and they drive through rolling hillside. Whenever they pass through a village, or encounter a cart on the road, Korra's seat creaks as if she's hunkering down so she can't be seen through the windows. Maybe she's worried the locals might ask her to bless their crops or exorcise evil spirits from their farm animals. Maybe she's just enjoying her bad mood and wants to be left alone with it.
They eventually come to the White Lotus compound, which is another siheyuan, but much larger than Katara's. The walls are higher. Not that Tarrlok intends to be climbing over walls any time soon.
There are two guards posted by the main gate, bored and sweaty in their starched white uniforms. They wave Beifong through, allowing her to park the Satomobile inside the perimeter.
Tarrlok lets Beifong open the Satomobile's door, then unsticks himself from the passenger seat and steps out. The air outdoors is just as humid as the interior of the Satomobile. Tarrlok would worry about it ruining his hair if wasn't quite sure that he'd ruined his hair already.
The sky is now the color of blank paper.
There are more guards waiting, ready to provide an escort; the guards lead them further into the compound, until they come to a paved courtyard that's empty save for a few target bosses. Calling the compound a 'siheyuan' now seems like a misnomer. The building is shaped around a quadrangle, granted, but Tarrlok has seen the same layout used for plenty of forts and prisons.
They pause at the centre of the courtyard. Beifong clears her throat, and gives Korra a pointed look.
Korra takes a slight step forward and peers at Tarrlok sheepishly. "I have to go back to the city now. Lin'll show you around."
Tarrlok just nods.
"You'll be okay here, right?" Korra says. Her glower has softened over the past few minutes. "I mean, it's not a bad place. Kind of reminds me of where I grew up, actually."
"I'll be fine," he answers.
"I'll come visit you when I have time, and, uh... Look, if you need anything, you can just ask." Korra glances to the guards, then focuses on Tarrlok again. "Yeah, you'll be okay."
Tarrlok gives her a practiced smile. "Go back to Republic City, Korra. I bet you have plenty of other things you should be worrying about."
Korra bristles, pursing her lips. She glances over at Beifong, who gives her a Look. "Alright. Fine. Bye, Tarrlok," Korra mutters, then stomps off back the way she came, shoulders squared, hands curled into fists.
Tarrlok sighs as discreetly as possible.
He now now finds himself alone with Beifong and the guards. He tells himself that he's fine with this. The guards are just doing their jobs. He'll do whatever they ask. There will be no problems. They have no reason to hurt him, apart from boredom, and he's too high-profile for them to take any unnecessary risks. Probably.
And if Beifong tries anything, she'll have to answer to Korra and Katara.
Though it would be her word against his, of course.
(He wonders if there's a healer in the compound. That was the old way of doing things: rough someone up, then get a healer to erase with the evidence. Not that Tarrlok ever needed to resort to that, back when he was on the force. Waterbenders have options that don't leave marks.)
"That way," Beifong says, pointing to a door in the northernmost part of the compound.
Tarrlok should move, but can't.
Beifong rolls her eyes. "Please," she adds.
Tarrlok snaps out of it, and starts walking.
The compound has an unpleasantly institutional feel that Tarrlok associates with minor government offices. Everything smells of dust, food, and oil lamps, although also there's a faint whiff of incense in the air. He's escorted down several bare stone corridors and led to a room that - yes - has a conspicuously large lock on the door, though the interior contains such mod cons as a desk and a proper bed. It's not quite a cell, though the Powers That Be clearly don't expect him to take any evening constitutionals without their permission.
He's left with Beifong, who briskly informs him of all the things he's not allowed to do (no going beyond the inner wall, don't leave the room between sundown and sunrise, keep out of the offices on the upper floors, blah blah), then warns him that he'll be randomly checked on every so often, and that dinner will be congee with vegetables.
Tarrlok fully expects the congee to be terrible, and isn't disappointed.
As he sits in his room and pushes the congee around with a spoon, he wonders how he'll cope with prison food. He wonders how his father coped with prison food. Then he remembers that his father probably didn't have to cope with prison food. His father was not a man who coped with things. Things had to cope with his father.
Beifong loiters around during the meal, arms crossed, leaning against a wall. Her presence doesn't do much for Tarrlok's appetite. He has a nasty suspicion that she's only hanging around because she spat in his food earlier and now wants to see him eat it. That's what he might do, if he was in her situation. (Or perhaps not. He'd like to think that spitting in people's food is beneath him, and that he's moved on to more adult forms of retaliation, such as seizing people's property and arresting their relatives. Unfortunately, Tarrlok doesn't have any property that hasn't already been seized, and his only remaining relative is a guy who he actually wants arrested.)
"Is there anything you'd like to talk to me about?" Tarrlok asks Beifong, when it becomes clear that she won't be leaving any time soon.
Beifong barely glances at him. "Nope."
"Oh." Tarrlok almost asks her if she's expecting a tip for bringing him dinner, then thinks better of it. Then he looks down at his spoon. Is she watching him because she think he'll steal the cutlery, fashion it into a weapon, and use it to shank one of the guards in the eye before making a grand escape? Because he really doesn't need that sort of excitement in his life.
He inspects something green and soggy that he hopes is cabbage, and remembers something.
"You have a younger sister, don't you?" he asks Beifong, idly.
Beifong now looks up. Her expression suggests that Tarrlok should probably regret asking that question. Still, stupid as she is, she isn't quite stupid enough to say, 'how do you know what?' or 'mind your own business'. Other peoples' business used to be part of his job.
"You should talk to her," Tarrlok says, without making eye contact.
Beifong uncrosses her arms, which triggers a small fight-or-flight response in the part of Tarrlok's brain that's still eleven years old.
Tarrlok pretends to take great interest in the piece of organic matter floating in his congee. "It might not seem like it, but she likely misses you."
He can sense Beifong tense up (which is surprising, because he thought he'd lost his awareness of subtle body language after losing his ability to bloodbend) and he quickly puts the bowl of congee down on the desk so he won't drop it if she hits him.
But Beifong just says, "Not interested," and walks out of the room. The sound of her footsteps recedes down the corridor.
Ah, good. That got rid of her.
(Tarrlok sits and waits for a minute. Then he smirks when he hears the stomp of Beifong's footsteps as she returns to slam the door closed, lock it, and grumble about something before storming off again.)
When he loses interest in his meal, Tarrlok gets it into his head to try doing some push-ups, but gives up after ten. He spends some time pacing around the room.
Finally, he goes to bed out of sheer boredom.
He tells himself that boredom isn't so bad, and that there are worse things, though he can't stop picturing Noatak as an old man in a cell, not quite awake, not quite asleep. The weight of the years presses against his mind.
Outside, it begins to rain.
Tarrlok dreams about the time he was eight and he accidentally hit his father in the face with a harpoon handle.
The dream isn't as satisfying as it should be.
Someone gently shakes Tarrlok's shoulder. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes.
There's a moment of disorientation that almost gives way to panic. He doesn't know where he is. This isn't his apartment. This room is too cramped. Why does it have bare stone walls? He thinks of Noatak, and of forgotten rooms, old attics, empty houses, closed doors. Then he recalls meeting Katara yesterday, and his brain manages to catch up with reality. The fear subsides.
There's just enough light coming through the small, high windows to define the shape of the girl standing over him.
She puts her index finger to her mouth to say be quiet.
"Korra?" he murmurs. A year ago, he might have been quite happy to find the Avatar in his bedroom, but now he just has the nagging feeling that she's here to kill him.
"Shhh," she replies. Yes, she's definitely Korra.
Tarrlok sits up in bed. Whatever she wants, it's too early for it. Or too late. His sense of time has been a mess ever since his encounter with the Equalists. "What are you doing here?"
Korra stands back so she's not looming over him so much. "I'm breaking you out."
Oh, alright. Wait. No. What? "But I only just got there," Tarrlok says.
"Well, now you're leaving again," Korra replies. "Come on. Get your shoes."
"What is the meaning of this?" Tarrlok hisses. It's (probably) the middle of the night. He's not going anywhere without a cup of tea first. Besides, it's still pelting it down with rain outside. It's loud enough for him to hear it. He's developed a special hatred of rain over the past few months.
Also, he's dimly aware that if he leaves the compound, it'll look like he's continuing the family tradition of going on the lam. This should bother him more than the rain, really.
Korra keeps her voice low. "I'm going to find Amon, and you're going to help."
"What?"
"I said, I'm going to find Amon and-..."
There are not enough cups of tea in the world for this. "I heard you. No!"
Korra pauses. Tarrlok can tell she's staring at him by the way she tilts her head. "Really? You'd rather stay here? Because-"
Tarrlok cuts her off. "Why do you need to find Am-... Noatak, and why do you expect me to help you? What about Katara? Hasn't she gone to find Amon? Aren't I meant to be going to trial soon? Wasn't Tenzin going to press charges? Why are you in my room? How did you get in here? Is this legal? This isn't legal, is it? What do you think you're doing?"
"I'll, uh, explain later," Korra says.
Tarrlok wants to hit her. "You're seriously asking me to go with you?"
"Well. Yeah."
"No. You'll get me in more trouble than I'm in already."
Korra puts her hands on her hips, and takes a moment to think. "You can tell everyone I kidnapped you," she says, darkly, "Don't worry, I won't lock you in a metal box."
"And if you kidnap me, then what?" Tarrlok snaps.
"I'm going to head to the place where Katara's going."
"And?"
Korra pauses again. "...I'll find Amon."
No. No no no. No thanks. "Avatar Korra, that is the worst plan I have ever heard in my life, and if you think it's going to work, you're even stupider than I thought."
Korra takes a step forwards, and Tarrlok can now see her face. It looks vaguely murderous.
Right, that's it. He's had enough.
Tarrlok takes a deep breath. "GUARDS, THE AV-"
He sees the blur of Korra's fist before everything goes dark.