GOOD LORD JESUS I THOUGHT I'D NEVER BE DONE WITH THIS CHAPTER

I'm so sorry this is late. As you can see, it's very, very long, and also very heartfelt. None of my friends believed them when I summarized this chapter as "Amorra cuddling" (it sounds stupid just writing it), but I did my best to create something believable while still staying (somewhat?) true to the characters.

I PULLED AN ALL-NIGHTER TO FINISH THIS THING SO Y'ALL BETTER LIKE IT

Amon dropped off the morning-after pills a few minutes later, and then Korra was alone. As soon as she was sure he wasn't coming back, Korra let herself panic.

She jumped to her feet and stood on her toes so she could reach the bars above her head. Amon's bloodbending had left her in pain, but it had also made her desperate. She found the bar that was already covered in scorch marks and began to weld away at it furiously. Yesterday she had spent hours trying to make a dent, but nothing she did made it heat up enough. This time, Korra grit her teeth and forced as much chi into her flame as she could manage.

"Come on," she grunted. "Gimme a blue flame…"

Her flame turned white, but it still wasn't enough. Korra glared and focused harder. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple before the bar had even started to glow. After a few minutes, Korra's legs were shaking from the exertion, and she was getting out of breath. A muscle spasmed in her shoulder—a side-effect from the bloodbending—and Korra's flame began to sputter.

He's twice as strong as Tarrlok. And he didn't even move—he did all that with his mind—

Korra's muscles gave out, and she stumbled into the wall before sliding down the floor, gasping for air. The bar was only glowing a dull red above her. It was better than the last few tries, but now it was obvious that this wouldn't be a viable escape route. The melting point of the metal was just too high. Everything else had failed too. She was trapped. There was nothing else she could do but wait to be taken out to the rally.

I'm going to die in this box or live to have my bending taken away.

It was a reality she had already considered, especially in the past few hours, but that didn't make it any easier to face. Korra's eyes stung lightly, but she was too dried up, too exhausted to cry. Everything hurt; every breath she took through her nose stung with dryness and the scent of iron. Her fingers were covered in soot and throbbing with heat—burned accidentally. Her stomach had been aching the past two days, but now it had twisted itself into a painful knot. Worst of all was her headache—it had been manageable before, but now it was threatening to split her skull in two. Korra closed her eyes, wishing the single light bulb hanging above the box would go out before she got a migraine.

When Korra finally opened her eyes, it was to look over at the new bottle of pills Amon had brought. She groaned as she remembered her reason for needing them in the first place. There was no point in putting it off.

Korra uncapped the bottle and shook a pill into her palm. There wasn't much fluid left in her mouth—Korra had been swallowing the suppressants dry with the help of some saliva—but with her throat completely parched, she didn't have much else to take it with. She had forced down the last round of suppressants by making herself cough up enough phlegm to take it with. With a grimace, Korra realized she would have to do the same thing again.

After hacking up enough fluid from her lungs, Korra gagged the pill down her throat. When it was done she curled against herself and clutched her head to stop the throbbing. She could feel her nose bleeding again, but she was too lazy to do anything but wipe it on the back of her hand. She doubted the pill would even stay down long, especially on an empty stomach, but it was better than not making the effort.

Maybe I should have tried being nice to him.

Korra scowled and let her head fall back against the wall. She didn't want to think about this, but the silence made it impossible not to think.

Of course she shouldn't have been nice to him. She didn't need to flatter that ass to deserve basic respect. He wouldn't even bat an eye if she tried sucking up to him—from the looks of it, he just wanted her to be gone as soon as possible.

Yet another part of her couldn't help but wonder. If he was so apathetic, then what was yesterday all about?

Hormones, she reminded herself. Too many hormones at the worst possible time. That's all that happened yesterday.

Then why did she care so much?

Korra balled her fists in frustration and put her head between her knees. That was just the thing. She was supposed to feel angry, maybe even violated. But she didn't. Her only regret was who he was.

It'd be different if it was just "Amon," she thought. It's totally different now that the guy under the mask is actually Tarrlok's much scarier bloodbending brother.

Maybe that was it. Maybe she wanted the guy under the mask to be a decent person, or at least not a bloodbending sociopath. Was she trying to make herself like him to help herself feel better, or was this a gut feeling telling her to give him a chance…

Korra stopped there. If he had really cared, he would have given her food and water. That was the cold truth, and it wasn't worth dwelling on. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about any of this.

Korra forced herself to sit up straight as she drew herself into a meditation stance. It made her headache worse, but at least she wasn't thinking about him anymore.

Didn't Tenzin have some story about a guy who never ate? Korra thought vaguely. Maybe meditating like him can help me survive this.

Either way it was worth at try. Korra closed her eyes and breathed.

Dear Aang: I got the message, Amon's the real bad guy. Already knew this. Now can you please give me an Avatar secret that'll actually get me out of here?

Republic City was his.

With Tarrlok and the Avatar out of the way, capturing the city was almost easy. The rest of the council was taken out easily, and Saikhan and Beifong were taken in soon after. Tenzin and his family had escaped, but he had a squad in pursuit. The only ones still at large were Sato's daughter and the Avatar's probending friends.

But that was no matter. Everything else had been going according to plan. The preparations for Thursday's rally were near complete, defenses were set against the United Republic's navy, and he removed the bending of hundreds of citizens' every day.

The best part? The Avatar hadn't distracted him since their last encounter. Two days had passed since he had been forced to reveal his bloodbending to her, but she had made no attempt to summon him since.

In fact, Amon was certain he wouldn't have to face her again until Thursday's rally. As he went to bed Wednesday night, it was almost as if he could finally put his conscience, and his thoughts of the Avatar, at bay.

His subconscious had other ideas.

He forgets when she enters his dream, or when it becomes lewd, but the next thing he knew he was overwhelmed with the sensation of her, her hands and her lips moving tenderly down his abdomen, fingers kneading and tongue dragging, then her mouth wrapping around him and—

Amon bolted upright in bed with a gasp. The first thing he noticed was the pleasurable aftershock of his orgasm fading away, and the dampness in his briefs from where he had wet himself. He scowled and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Even in his dreams, he couldn't get away from…

Amon paused and sniffed the air. Sure enough, the Avatar's scent was there, filtering through the entire base just like the last two times. Even though they were on the opposite ends of the complex, he could still smell her faintly.

He swore and stood out of bed, walking to the bathroom to clean himself up. He worked mechanically, trying not to think too hard before it became impossible to go back to sleep. When he was done, he went back to his room and tossed his soiled briefs aside before going to fish out a fresh pair. He looked at a clock on the way and groaned; it was two thirty in the morning.

Amon put on his fresh briefs and sat back on his bed, his face in his hands. There was no need to pay the Avatar another visit. The last visit was a trap, and odds were she was just trying to make another last-minute effort to escape before today's rally. Amon got back in his bed and tried to go back to sleep.

He tried everything. He practiced breathing exercises, he put the pillow over his head to block out the smell—he even tried counting koala-sheep—but nothing worked. The memory of her scent was branded into his sinuses, and it wasn't going away.

Amon threw the pillow off his head and got out of bed with a growl. He walked over to his dresser and began to strap on his uniform. Amon finished by putting on his mask, but he didn't bother with the make-up underneath. This was going to be a quick errand. However, he glanced at his vanity and picked up two make-up sponges, stuffing them into the holes of his mask in the place of cotton balls.

He didn't bother taking the detour to the storage room. Amon headed straight for the prisons, thankful for the vacancy of the halls he rushed through.

When Amon arrived, there was only one guard posted in the prisons—the male omega assigned to the nightshift on the Avatar's cell. He stood at attention when Amon arrived, but Amon waved him down.

"I need the keys," Amon said. "Go stand at the end of the hall and wait."

The guard handed over the keys, but hesitated before leaving. "Are you sure, sir?"

"Leave us."

Even with a mask on, Amon could see the discomfort in the guard's eyes.

"Sir…" the guard said carefully. "I understand that she's the Avatar, but is it really necessary to exploit her like this?"

The words sent a knife of guilt through Amon's gut, and he bristled. Amon grit his teeth and turned to put the key in the lock.

"Don't assume you know anything about this," Amon spat. "I said, leave us."

The guard finally bowed and dismissed himself, and Amon turned the key in the lock and entered the cell.

Like last time, there was no noise coming from the box. Amon strode over to it, not phased by the act. When he opened the door, he hid behind it and braced himself for a wave of fire to explode from the box.

Nothing happened.

Amon waited for the Avatar leap out and attack him, but she was nowhere to be seen. Amon frowned and peered around the door to look in the box. What he saw made his stomach turn. Korra was asleep, sprawled out on her side in an uncomfortable position. Her cheeks were gaunt, and her breath came in shallow huffs through chapped lips. The two bottles of pills were just out of reach of one of her outstretched hands. He looked behind her and cringed when he spotted a dried puddle of bile in the back corner, with a pill in the middle of the mess.

"Avatar."

Korra didn't stir. Amon raised an eyebrow and nudged her shoulder with his boot. Still nothing. Amon knelt down and tried to shake her awake, but all that did was make her brows crease together. Amon's hand wavered before he put it to her forehead, and he grimaced. Her skin, though dry, was burning against his, and even here he could sense how slow her heart was beating. Too slow—too faint.

She can't wake up, he realized. That's why she didn't take the suppressants.

Amon stood up and went over to the wall, slamming his hand against the concrete in frustration.

She's dying of thirst. I should have listened.

Two separate wheels began spinning in his mind. The first weighed the consequences—he needed her alive for the rally, and awake enough to know when he was taking her bending, so all of his supporters could see her broken by his hand.

The other part wanted to take everything back.

Amon spared a glance at Korra before hanging his head. He had a responsibility to heal her, or at least bring her back to consciousness long enough to get through the rally. But he was afraid that if he gave into his emotions, he would do more than heal her; he would nurse her back to health, comfort her, give her back everything he knew she deserved. Her strength. Her dignity. Her freedom…

Amon slammed his hand in the concrete again and let out a deep breath.

Remember your priorities…Amon.

Amon stood up straighter before going back and closing the box. With that, he forced himself to leave the cell.

"I'll be back," Amon told the guard as he passed him in the hall.

Amon returned a few minutes later with a five-gallon bucket full of water. The guard's eyes widened in surprise when he saw it, but he did nothing to stop him. Amon passed him without a second glance, but the guard was fumbling through the pouch at the back of his belt.

"Sir, wait."

Amon turned to see the guard offering him a pack of crackers.

"Here. I eat these to get through my shift, but I figure she needs them more than I do."

Amon looked down at the crackers blankly. He was about to turn them down before he remembered the pill dry-heaved in the corner of the box. After a moment of consideration, Amon reached out and took them.

"Thank you." Amon wasn't sure because of the mask, but he thought the guard was smiling.

Amon reentered the cell, locked it behind himself, and set the bucket against the nearest wall. Next he took off his coat and draped it against the end of the cot in the corner of the room—he made a mental note to have that thing removed and burned when there was time. He took off his shoulder pads and undershirt until he was left bare-chested.

With that, he walked over to the box and opened it. The first thing he did was bend down to pocket the bottles of pills—his eyes darted over to the dried bile in the corner, and he was suddenly thankful for the sponges up his nose.

He finally knelt down and slid his hands under her. He initially staggered when he lifted her—she was heavier than she looked—but Amon grit his teeth and managed to pull her into his arms anyway. Korra's breath hitched when her head rolled back, but aside from that, she didn't stir.

Hang in there, he caught himself thinking. The thought made him pause and grit his teeth, but it was useless trying to numb his feelings now.

Amon sat against the wall next to the bucket, but hesitated as he wondered how to arrange themselves. Amon shifted awkwardly for a moment before parting his legs and cradling her in his lap, her head propped up against his knee.

Now what?

Amon hadn't given much thought to this. He fidgeted for a moment before bending a bubble of water from the bucket and guiding it to Korra's lips. No response. Amon knit his brow and decided to pry her mouth open and bend the water in. Korra didn't swallow—instead she choked, her eyes bolting open as she coughed furiously. Amon swore and bent the water out of her lungs, and she immediately shuddered and collapsed back against his knee. Amon tossed the water back in the bucket before rubbing his temples anxiously.

Drinking wasn't going to help her now, even if she could swallow. She needed a healer, or the hospital. She was so dry that he could barely feel her blood flow anymore—it dragged through her veins, too thick from dehydration to move like it should.

Blood. Amon blinked and glanced back at the bucket. He couldn't heal, but he might be able to put the water back in her veins. Amon took another tendril of water and held it against the inside of her wrist—any place with blood vessels close to the skin would work. He carefully worked the water against her skin, willing it to ease deeper. After a couple of minutes it was gone, bent back into her bloodstream.

Amon couldn't stop his lips from curling into a soft smile.

He used the same technique on her other wrist, then the crooks of her elbows and under her arms. He knew it wasn't enough; he would have to cover as much as her body as he could stand. He pulled down her collar so he could work at her jugular, but then froze.

The bite mark was still on the side of her neck. But it was far worse than the day he left it. It was scabbing, swollen, bruised black and yellow at the edges; he would've seen it from a mile away. He could even see several sections where the scabs had split, bled, then clotted again. His fingers hovered over a section that looked like it was becoming infected. He immediately drew water from the bucket and ran it over the mark, wishing again that he knew how to heal.

After a while, Amon relented and moved on to the rest of her neck. He hesitated before dragging the water up to her face, but he finally decided to focus the water on her temples. It wasn't long before Korra's eyes fluttered open and settled on him.

"It's you."

Amon did his best to avoid eye-contact while he worked, but he acknowledged her with a grunt. Korra stared back at him in confusion and put her hand against his, feeling the water moving against her skin. Her eyebrows lifted when she realized what he was doing.

"Why?"

"Drink this." Rather than answer her, Amon bent another bubble of water to her lips. Korra drank it, but several seconds after swallowing it she gagged and retched the water back up. Amon grimaced as the water came back up on her shirt.

"Why can't I keep it down…" she groaned. Amon bent the water out of her shirt and cast it aside.

"Too much for your stomach right now. Here." Amon formed a tendril of water into an icicle. "Try this instead. Can you hold it?"

Korra raised a shaky hand and took it from him. He made sure she could hold it steady in her mouth before he went back to what he was doing. He decided to roll up her trousers and start healing her feet and knees, mostly so he wouldn't have to talk to her. There was no need to speak with her unless she instigated a conversation. And why would she? The last time he saw her, he bloodbent her after dooming her to dying of thirst.

Although, Amon couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't trying to attack him, or at least get away. He paused his healing for a moment to look at her. Korra let the icicle drop from her mouth as she frowned.

"What?" Her voice wasn't as hoarse now that she had water. Amon broke from her gaze and looked down at her feet.

"I expected more resistance. After…"

Korra raised an eyebrow. "After the whole mating thing, or the whole bloodbending me and exposing your revolution as a lie?"

Amon was glad she couldn't see the look on his face. "Right…all of the above, I suppose. Regardless, we're not on good terms."

Korra hummed in agreement. "Well, you're being nice for once. And you're kind of saving my life, so, don't stop."

Amon nodded once and continued bending the water into her legs. It was impossible to ignore the tension between them, and Amon was trying hard not to analyze what kind of tension. His mind kept trying to invent excuses for him to leave. She needed a healer instead—he was the only waterbender around. It was his only option—was it really? His only option happened to involve him gently running his hands all over an omega in heat—an omega who happened to be his sworn enemy. Amon nearly stopped when he realized he had been carefully caressing every curve of her legs. He glanced up at her to find her watching him intently. Amon swallowed thickly and went back to what he was doing.

So maybe his feelings were getting in the way, and maybe he was straining from fighting them too hard. But was he afraid of his feelings because she was the enemy? Or because she was in heat and didn't actually reciprocate his feelings, and she was only seventeen and didn't belong in this kind of mess—

The water slipped from his grip and splashed against the floor, and Amon grit his teeth and turned his head away from her. A heavy silence hung between them without the slosh of the water to fill the air. For some reason, Korra didn't seem to mind it. She finished her icicle and bent a new tendril of water into another one.

"You know," she ventured, "The torso has a lot of blood vessels."

Amon could practically feel the blood drain from his face. "That it does."

Korra looked at him expectantly, and Amon held back a groan. Great spirits why, he thought. She can't be serious. She can't seriously want me to waterbend all over her chest.

When Amon didn't budge, Korra sighed and started pulling her shirt off herself. It was all he could do to keep his blood from draining to particular areas.

"Er—it's fine—keep your shirt on, I'll work around it—"

By that point the shirt was over her shoulders. Korra's bindings were still on—much to his relief—but the shirt was stuck on her head. Amon rolled his eyes and yanked it the rest of the way off for her, and Korra hissed and put a hand to her neck.

"Was trying to avoid that," she grumbled.

She didn't have to pull her hand away for him to see what she was covering. Amon grimaced and glanced away.

"My apologies," he muttered before he could stop himself. He was surprised. It hardly seemed appropriate to dole out apologies to his enemy, but in this case, the bite was already inappropriate enough. Korra watched him for a few seconds before shaking her head.

"I'm fine," she said. "I've had worse."

Amon was about to bend another tendril of water over her, but he froze when he heard this. "You have…done this before?"

Korra's eyes went wide before she corrected herself. "Been bitten. I mean, by Naga. It was a training accident when I was a kid, and you know—polar bear dog—so it almost took a chunk out of my arm. Poor girl had her tail between her legs until Katara patched me up. My armbands usually cover the scar."

Korra lifted her right arm to show the jagged crescent shining below her elbow. Amon let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and nodded slowly.

"I see," he said. He picked up the bubble of water again before chancing a glance at her neck. "Do you…want to heal it?"

"Hm?"

"Your neck."

Korra instinctively ran her fingers across the mark—the chafe from her shirt was causing a part of it to bleed again—and shook her head. "No…it's okay," she decided, dropping her hand.

"Are you sure?" Amon asked.

"I'll fix it later."

Amon frowned. "You won't have the chance," he reminded her. It went without saying. No bending, no healing. She had less than twenty-four hours now.

Korra still refused to believe it. "I'll fix it later," she insisted. Amon sighed and shook his head.

"Sit up."

Amon helped her into a sitting position, and from there he began to bend water into her back. Hopefully, he would be able to avoid bending into her chest if he worked the water deep enough into her back.

It was only then that he bothered to ask himself how much time had passed. It could have been anywhere from a few minutes to an hour, but he wouldn't have known. He didn't feel like he was wasting his time at all.

Maybe he wanted to be here all along.

Once Amon was satisfied with his work, he bent the leftover water back into the bucket and leaned back.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

Korra shifted slightly; Amon tried and failed to ignore the muscles contouring in her back as she moved. "My chest still feels tight," she answered. "And it burns when I breathe."

Amon closed his eyes and fought back a sigh of annoyance. So it was inevitable.

"Alright," he grumbled. "Lie back."

He propped up his knee for her to lean back on, and Korra settled back against him. She bent herself another icicle and bit into it as she watched him lift up a bubble of his own water. He held the water above her, hesitating as he thought of a suitable place to begin.

"Are those makeup sponges?" Korra finally asked.

Amon blinked and remembered the sponges he had stuffed up his nose. She grinned and lifted a hand to pull the sponges out before Amon panicked and swatted her hand away.

"That's irrelevant," he snapped. "Keep still."

Korra settled back and held still, but she was still smirking. Amon couldn't help but feel warm inside at the sight of her smiling.

With that, Amon placed the water on her upper chest and began to bend. Korra closed her eyes and appeared to relax more, but Amon could feel her heart hammering. It was at this point that he remembered that she was still very much in heat. Amon hesitated for a moment before forcing himself to keep going.

Just a little longer. Almost done. It hardly occurred to him that he wasn't obligated to help her anymore, not when she was well enough to make it through to the rally.

Before long he could sense the water easing into her heart and lungs, so he began to move the water lower. But as soon as he made contact with the top of her bindings, he froze and let go of the water, yanking his hands away as he panicked.

Korra grabbed his wrist before he could push her away. "Don't stop."

Amon grit his teeth and avoided her gaze. "It hardly seems appropriate."

"I still need it," she pleaded. "The water, I mean…keep going."

Amon didn't move for a moment, but he eventually gave in. He lifted up a new bubble of water and held it against her abdomen. Korra's eyes never left him while he worked, and it took all of his effort to not meet her gaze.

His hands were gentle as they passed over her stomach, but he was careful never to dip too far past her navel. He was thankful to be done quickly, so he could discard the water and move on to using his bloodbending to distribute the water evenly through her body.

He was immediately in awe of what he found. Her chi paths were surging with unbelievable power, even as they moved sluggishly. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. She had three bending chi paths flowing steadily, pulsing at the beat of her heart as if they could overflow any moment. He had seen many bender's chi path's when he took away bending, but he had never given much thought to how it pulsed like a person's very spirit. Her chi was too unique to ignore. He could feel the raw power in her veins, but rather than be threatened, Amon couldn't help but feel like he was holding the bones of high spirit. It was indescribable, humbling, and almost…beautiful.

He would have to destroy it all in a few hours.

Amon dropped his hands to his sides. Korra, who was about to bend herself another icicle, looked at him and frowned.

"You alright?" she asked.

Amon didn't answer, too dazed to acknowledge her. After a moment of hesitation, Korra lifted a hand and moved to take out the sponges in his nose. When he didn't react, Korra pulled them out and tossed them on the floor. Korra watched and waited for him to take the first breath, but Amon waited, afraid of what might happen if he let himself lose control. At last, he ran out of air and drew in a breath.

The scent went straight to his chest and broke the ice around his heart. This wasn't lust. The electric charge pulling them together was different now. She was his omega, and she was wounded in a time of need. And now his instincts were crying out for him to hold back, protect her. It felt like a nail was splitting his heart and mind in two.

Before he realized what he was doing, Amon pulled Korra into a desperately tight hug. Korra stiffened in surprise for a moment before melting into the embrace, tucking her face in the crook of his neck. Amon found himself blinking back inexplicable tears.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. His lips moved, but he still couldn't force himself to say the words.

Korra eventually lifted a hand to try and take off his mask. Amon instinctively snatched her wrist to stop her, and Korra pulled away from him.

"What's wrong?" she said, smirking lightly. "Didn't put your makeup on today?"

Amon had no response to that. Korra frowned and glanced at the light hanging above her box. She raised a tendril of water from the bucket and flung it at the light, shattering the bulb. The room was plunged into darkness—the sound of ice and glass raining against the bottom of the box startled Amon for a moment—but he hardly had time to think before Korra was pushing off his mask and pressing her lips against his.

Amon didn't know how to react. He had spent the past three days constantly reminding himself that she was only seventeen—and would remain so for the next four months (and nineteen days). But this moment, with her body flush against his, felt too right to deny.

Amon deepened the kiss and wrapped his arms around her. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered his mask clattering against the floor, but he didn't care.

When he felt her hands slide down against his zipper, however, Amon knew a line was being crossed. He pulled her hand away and broke the kiss, making her whine in protest.

"Come on," she groaned. "It's been three days since—"

"No," he said firmly. "Once was quite enough." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle of suppressants. "Here."

He could tell from the glossy look in her eyes that she had no intention of taking them. "Those make my stomach hurt."

Amon rolled his eyes and pulled out the pack of crackers. Korra's eyes widened, the glossy look evaporating instantly.

"Wait, really?"

"Yes. Just take the damn pill."

Amon dropped the pill into her palm. Korra stared at it suspiciously for a moment before taking a bubble of water and swallowing the two together. Amon opened the pack of crackers as soon as the pill was down, and Korra hurriedly pulled one out and shoved it in her mouth. Amon put the bottle of suppressants back in his pocket, but frowned when he felt the other bottle in his pocket.

"Also, was that the contraceptive you threw up in the box?" he asked.

Korra froze in mid-bite and looked at him anxiously. Amon immediately pulled out the other bottle of pills and shook out a capsule for her. He could see her visibly relax as soon as she had taken the pill.

By this point Amon's work was done—Korra was rehydrated and had taken the suppressant and contraceptive. But for some reason, he couldn't find the will to make himself leave. Korra seemed to sense this, and she shifted to lean against him as she munched on the crackers. After a while, she took her free hand and began to feel his face—the slope of his nose, the arch of his eyebrows, his sideburns, and his lips—he had to fight a smile when she lingered there. He knew she was doing her best to draw a picture of him in her mind. He couldn't let her see his real face, but he was more than happy with this.

"Who are you, really?" Korra murmured. "Amon's not a Water Tribe name. What's your real name?"

Amon sighed. "I can't tell you." That name was dead. That life was over. He was Amon now, and that was what mattered. Korra grumbled and continued to run her fingers across his face.

"You're probably just really ugly," Korra said eventually, "And that's why you wear the mask."

Amon grinned. "Fair assumption. I suppose a comparison might help. What do you think of Tarrlok?"

"Tarrlok?" Korra hummed as she took another bite of a cracker. "Meh. I dunno. Too old."

"I'm three years his senior."

Korra nearly choked on her cracker. "…Oh."

"Indeed. Are you glad you took those suppressants now?"

He felt a puff of air brush his chest as she snorted. "Yeah…maybe a bit," she admitted. "I never would have guessed you were that old."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Amon sensed Korra picking up another cracker. "Alright, so Tarrlok," she said. "Do you two look alike?"

"I suppose," Amon said. He paused, realizing that he hadn't given it much thought after being reunited with his brother. "We were set on very different paths after I left home. Perhaps we were more alike…when we were boys…"

Amon swallowed thickly. This should be wrong, confiding in the Avatar. And yet he felt uninhibited, as if the absence of his mask was like a weight lifted off his old memories. Holding her there in his arms, he was ready to tell her just about anything.

Korra's head fell against his shoulder. "What was it like? Growing up with him as your father?"

Amon closed his eyes. It took a minute before he knew how to answer. "He was a terrible man. When he found out we were waterbenders, we became tools of revenge against the Avatar…not his children. If I'd run away sooner, maybe I wouldn't have this curse. People like him are the source of suffering in this world—people like him, and bending. It's a curse, too much power for mortals to wield."

When Korra was silent, Amon took a deep breath and tried again. "You haven't seen the world like I have. I saw how bending corrupted people after I ran away—I had already seen it with my father, and it almost happened to me. It happened to my own brother. Bending is a curse. I bear my curse as a means of cleansing that from others."

Korra was quiet for another moment before she spoke.

"You're just doing what he wants," she whispered. "You're getting revenge against the Avatar."

Amon's heart stopped. "No. It's…it's not the same. This isn't about you, it's about equality."

"This is everything to do with me," she said just as softly. "Bending is my world. It's all I've ever known. I don't know how I'll live if I lose it."

It was Amon's turn to fall silent. After a moment, Korra pulled a stream of water from the bucket and held the bubble before them.

"Look," she said. "It's too dark to see, but you can still feel it. Even if you're not the one holding it, it's…it's still a part of you. You grew up in the Water Tribe. You felt the snow, even before you knew you could bend, didn't you?" He could feel her offering the bubble to him, and he took it in his grip, holding it out before them. "This is our home. It's a part of who we are. Why would you take that away from anyone?"

There it was again, the nail driving his heart and mind in two. He hated bending—not the people—he hated the Avatar—but not her, never her. Not after this.

Amon didn't think as he tossed the water back into the bucket and kissed her. This kiss wasn't like the others. It was slow, sweet, and passionate, their lips brushing together and their breaths mingling. Korra wrapped her arms around his neck, and he pulled her closer. The scent in the air had already shifted, and he knew the suppressants were already working.

After a few minutes he could feel her breaths becoming shakier, and their kisses became wet and mingled with the taste of salt. Amon pulled back and took her by the shoulders as she sobbed.

"Please…" she breathed, "Don't take my bending…"

Amon felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. "Korra…I—"

"You can fake it. Say I was too powerful or something. Or just let me keep one element, let me keep water, just that little bit of home—you can't take it away, please…"

Amon was silent, but he pulled her into a hug and let her cry anyway. He knew he had no choice. This was for the better. He hated the bending, not the people. He hated what the Avatar stood for but could never hate her—why did it have to be her?

He held her until her sobs died down, and then a little longer after that. The stillness hung between them in an almost surreal manner. Finally, Amon took a deep breath and felt for his mask on the floor. His fingers brushed against it, and he took it and tied it on. He started to lift Korra off of him, but she grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"Don't go yet."

Even with his mask on, he didn't have the strength to protest. He relaxed and closed his eyes, allowing himself to exist in the moment while it still lasted. He felt as her breathing and heartbeat slowed down, and her chi paths ebbed down to a sleepy flow. Sluggish for her—it would have been full power for anyone else. If there were gods, there must have been one within her.

After what felt like eons—still not long enough—Amon rose to his feet, stepping past the bucket and over to the box. A dim orange light flickered to life behind him. Amon turned around to see Korra cradling a small flame in her palm. He couldn't even be angered by the fire when he saw the pain, fear, and loneliness in her eyes. It broke his heart that he had to leave, but he forced himself to turn away.

"Drink now if you're still thirsty," he said, his voice empty. "I need to take the bucket with me."

He made his way to the door of the box and waited as Korra drank some more. When she was done, he bent some water from the bucket and used it to clean out the bottom of the box, gathering up the shattered bits of the lightbulb and the patch of bile. He bent it all into a far corner of the room before turning back to her.

"You need to go back in now."

Korra narrowed her eyes, and the flame in her hand flared brighter for a moment. Amon sighed.

"Please," he said, walking over to the cot and picking up his undershirt and jacket. "I don't want to hurt you again."

Korra glanced between him and the box uncertainly. Finally, she relented, setting her jaw as she stepped back into the box. Amon tried not to look at her as he shut the door behind her.

He knew he should form some sort of apology, but nothing appropriate—to him and Amon, the revolution—came to mind. He finally sighed and shook his head, donning his clothes before heading for the crack of light beneath the cell door.

Amon's head was hanging so low that he almost didn't notice the guard standing expectantly, swaying from foot to foot as if he was smiling beneath his mask. Amon raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

The guard rolled from his heels to his toes. "You two are happy together."

Amon was in so much shock that he almost forgot to answer. "Pardon? Our sworn enemy? Did you forget that I am taking her bending tomorrow?"

"It's the solution," the guard said obviously. "You're doing her a favor, just like with all the other benders. I'm sure it'll all work out between you once you've cleansed her at the rally."

Amon felt sick to his stomach. He shook his head as he pushed past the guard. "None of that," he muttered. "Too simple." Amon kept talking to himself as he walked away, but the last thing the guard heard was "she's just a girl…"

Amon barely remembered the walk back to his quarters. Before all this, the Avatar was merely an obstacle, a nuisance to be dealt with, a factor in his plan. But now…

He couldn't treat her like another number in his equation. An Avatar was a symbol that factored into his plans perfectly. But this girl didn't match his numbers. Did he forget something along the way?

As soon as he made it back to his room, he made his way over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of liquor. He was going to need the help sleeping through the rest of the night.

Korra was curled against the bottom of the box, her eyes wide and staring at nothing. She was too tired to meditate, but her mind was racing too much for her to sleep. With everything that had happened between them, Korra had no idea how to feel about Amon anymore. In the past three days, he'd mated with her, bloodbent her, and then nursed her back to health while they cuddled.

It was almost easier when he had just given her nightmares.

Her own feelings aside, Korra could be certain of one thing: Amon had a soft side, even if it was unpredictable. And maybe, just maybe, there would be a way to exploit it at the rally tomorrow.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking. As human as he might be, Korra couldn't rely on his feelings on her. Odds were she would have to take matters into her own hands.

I think I figured it out. I ship them platonically. But, also in a kinky non-con sort of way. And there is no in-between.

No wonder this is complicated.

The morning-after pill technically wouldn't exist in a 1920s-era Avatarverse, but since there's no way in hell I'd let Korra birth Amon's bloodbending demonspawn, I'm making it a thing.

Also I can't believe I put a male omega in this story. Not to kink-shame or anything, but like, HE CAN GET PREGNANT? THAT POOR MAN'S ASS SELF-LUBRICATES? I hate being invested in things that disgust me.

Speaking of which, I had a nightmare that every member of my family was suddenly interested in reading this fanfic. I think I might work a little harder on covering my tracks now…

GIVE ME COMMENTS, I WRITE FASTER WHILE FEEDING ON THE TEARS OF MY READERS