A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Your feedback makes me glow. :) This fandom is amazing. (edit: re-uploaded this chapter and fixed a couple of typos...)

.*.*.*.

VII
Distraction

Amon stood before the first of the condemned, his voice still echoing in the enormous warehouse. The man's eyes were wide with fear, sweat beading on his forehead, and he wrenched against the arms of the Equalists who held him down. Amon stared down the nose of his mask, casting a shadow on the captive's face for dramatic effect. Behind him, twenty-two other men and women stared at him with wide eyes, pinned down by Equalists themselves.

"And so," continued Amon, wrapping up his speech, "the time has arrived for you to be cleansed of your impurity." He strode several paces back and turned, preparing for the duel, as one of his men generously set an open barrel of water next to the captive.

At Amon's nod, the captive was released.

The captive panicked and shot a stream of ice shards before him. Amon ducked and dodged, easily darting through the fray to close the distance, and rolled to the captive's back. A tap at the rear of the captive's neck was enough to bring the man to his knees. Raising his fingers to the sky, Amon channelled energy into them.

"Don't," said Korra's voice.

He froze. His eyes darted around the room, but she was nowhere to be seen. Around him, his followers hunched, waiting with anticipation. Below him, the Red Monsoon gang member was shivering, his eyes wide. No one seemed to have noticed a voice.

With great focus, he began to lower his thumb toward the man's forehead.

Korra's face appeared in his mind's eye, her eyes wide and impossibly blue as a tear trailed down her cheek. "Don't," she whispered.

He whirled. There was confusion on the faces of those around him now, but no Avatar. How was this happening? Was he dreaming?

A shard of ice sliced through his arm, its freezing pain a reminder that he was awake. He whirled to see that his would-be victim had slipped out from under him and crouched in a fighting stance, his face frenzied.

"You will not take me, monster!" cried the captive, aiming.

Amon calmly reached out, gripped the man's wrist and redirected the blast of water harmlessly at the ceiling, then twisted his arm. The man yelped and sank to his knees beneath the pressure. This time, Amon did not milk the ceremony. He pressed his thumb directly into the captive's forehead, channelling his energy into the chi point to permanently end his bending. The man's eyes widened with shock, and then he slumped to the floor.

Amon stood over him, fists clenched at his sides, breathing hard. Then he turned and marched out of the warehouse, ignoring the confused murmurs of his followers.

His third-in-command and his lieutenant hurried after him, but he ignored them. Only once he had rounded the corner and they were out of view of the crowd did he stop. His fingertips pressed to his forehead as he tried to regain his composure.

"Amon?" asked his third tentatively.

"I am still weaker than expected from my injuries last month," he said, not looking at her. "I will continue my work tomorrow." He gritted his teeth. The Avatar had somehow gotten inside his head, tainted his conscience. It was clear that she was going to be on his mind until he got this meeting about Councilman Tarrlok over with. Only once those details were arranged could he put her aside and forget about her.

"What shall we do with the captives?" asked his lieutenant.

"Throw them back in the cell. I shall attend to them tomorrow."

"And the newly purified? Release him?"

Amon shook his head. "No. Put him with the others as a reminder of what is to come. Let the captives stew in their fear. Let the Red Monsoon tremble as they wonder what fate has befallen their twenty-three missing." He turned to his third. "I need transport. Classified."

She shot him a look as if he had gone mad. "You know it's nearly midnight, right?"

"It is urgent." He steeled his gaze. His immediate staff had been watching him warily since the incident at the cave, no doubt worried that he was stumbling into another dangerous situation. It was starting to grate on his nerves.

At last, his stare won out; she dropped her eyes and shook her head. "Very well. I'll send a pilot to the hangar."

.*.*.*.

The half-moon was bright in the sky when Team Avatar returned to Air Temple Island, and Korra's head spun from all the propaganda she had read during the ride home. Tales of Amon speaking with spirits and carrying on their message swirled in her head. How much of that did he believe? How much did she?

As they walked into the temple, Bolin leaned close. "I could use a walk. Interested?" It had become something of a tradition of late, on nights when neither of them could sleep: they would walk to the cliff and stare over the ocean, the conversation deep. Sometimes, Mako and Asami would join them. Sometimes there was no conversation, just a sense of togetherness as they stared over the bay. Korra loved those moments; she had never before had a close friendship with people her age. When she was younger, Katara had regaled her with tales from Avatar Aang's day, stories of friendship and camaraderie and drama that Korra could only dream of in her isolated location. Slowly, with her group of friends here in Republic City, she was building her own tales, and she relished those shared nights.

That night, however, she was exhausted, so she shook her head. "I think I'm going to go pass out instead."

"Okay." Bolin looked a little disappointed, but smiled. "Maybe I'll swing by a little later. Leave your door open if you're having trouble sleeping, and we'll talk."

"Of course." She smiled at him, then called a quick goodnight to everyone before she padded into the temple. A quick inquiry with an acolyte revealed that Tenzin was already sleeping, thankfully. She was too tired to debrief him on everything they had seen – and she wasn't certain she could talk about meeting Amon yet without her blush giving away what had actually happened. On her way to her room, she passed by the girls' room and saw that Naga was sleeping with them, a habit she had developed recently. Korra didn't mind. With Tarrlok's barely-suppressed bid for dominance, it was important to keep the newest generation of airbenders safe.

She opened the door to her room and closed it behind her, then lifted her arm to call forth a puff of flame as a light.

Amon's face was inches from hers.

Korra clapped her free hand over her mouth and swallowed a shriek, staggering backwards. The corners of the mouth of his mask, permanently etched in a smirk, seemed to mirror the sparkle in his eyes. Certain her eyes were playing tricks on her, she reached out to pat his arm, assuring that it was real.

"Good evening, Avatar," he whispered.

She snuffed out the light. "What the hell are you doing here?" she said, trying to keep her voice low.

"I thought you might wish to discuss the feat that my followers achieved tonight."

"You wanted to gloat, so you just hid in my room and waited for me? Do you have any idea how creepy that is?"

"Asking to be let in through the front door was not an option," he replied.

"What were you thinking, coming here?" Her eyes widened and she gripped his collar. "Did you hurt anyone?"

"No." He did not flinch under her grasp.

His scent, clean and warm, began to seep into her nostrils, making her giddy, and her lips burned to re-enact the kiss from earlier that night. Trying to hold on to her anger, she twisted her hands, tightening her grip to pull his face closer to her level. "You stripped the bending of twenty-three people today!"

"Criminals," he corrected. "Red Monsoon, at that. We may not be working together as closely as you dreamed, but we are working in tandem. If you release me, we can discuss this civilly." He gripped her wrists and tugged her away from his throat.

She jerked her hands out of his grasp. "I don't approve of your methods."

"Republic City is better off without those bullies."

Korra hesitated. He had a point, but he was missing hers. "It doesn't matter. You shouldn't be here. And you don't have the right to decide who is worthy of having bending and who doesn't."

"You are correct. That is why I must be even-handed and remove all bending, eventually. I just prefer to start with those who abuse their powers the most."

"Twenty-three people!" she said, her voice rising.

"You may wish to keep your voice down," he replied softly. "And no, not all of them yet. It is tiring work. My code of honour dictates that each one have the chance to best me in battle first, and it is exhausting to have so many battles in one day. I am, to some extent, still recovering from my wounds from the cave."

The cave. Words that were taboo. "The cave didn't happen," she growled through clenched teeth.

A knock sounded at her door. "Korra? You okay?" Bolin. She glanced at Amon, but the space he had occupied was already empty. How did he move so seamlessly? The hair on her neck stood on end. Padding to the door, she opened it. Bolin's face was worried, his eyes wide.

"Are you okay?" Her friend tried to peer inside; she stood in the door frame.

"Of course. Why?"

"Just came by to see if you were up for that walk, and thought I heard voices."

"I had the radio on." Trying to laugh it off, she added, "I was trying to talk back at it."

His voice lowered. "It sounded like Amon's voice."

No point in lying any more than she had to. "It was. He's talking about the gang members he kidnapped today. So I decided to give him an earful from here." She wondered how to politely shove him out the door.

Bolin cocked a brow. "Maybe instead of yelling at the talking box, you should try to get some rest. You had a long day."

"So did you."

"Yeah, well...there are a few things on my mind."

Korra could tell he wanted to talk about it, but she could feel Amon's eyes on her from somewhere in the room. Where, she couldn't tell.

"Let's talk tomorrow, Bolin. We'll have a breakfast date at the cliff. I really need some sleep."

"Okay." He smiled. "Come find me if you change your mind."

.*.*.*.

Amon watched from the shadows, a foreign emotion burning his throat as he watched the two interact - jealousy? Ridiculous. He had no claim over her. He turned his head away from the scene, not allowing himself to consider it for a moment longer. As he turned, movement in his peripheral vision - what little he had with the mask on, anyway - caught his attention from outside the window. The moon was bright enough to illuminate the bushes outside, and one was still swaying.

"Goodnight, Bolin," said Korra.

"Goodnight," came the voice from outside the door.

She closed the door, then turned. Amon stood tall and cocked his head at the window. "Do your acolytes tend to skulk in the bushes?" he whispered.

"No."

"Then someone may be watching you."

Korra marched to the window and stuck her head through it, looking around. Then she shook her head. "It was probably just Pabu. He goes out at night sometimes, and he wasn't with Bolin." She closed the shutters, though some light still streamed in through the cracks. The faint light cast her skin in blue-grey, so smooth that it rivalled the porcelain of his mask, and her irises shone so brightly that they nearly glowed. He realized that he was holding his breath, and softly let it out again.

"It seems you and the earth bender boy have grown close," he said, nodding at the door.

She peered at him, incredulous. "Are you...jealous?"

"It is relevant. If word of our encounter has reached anyone's ears, even your closest friend-"

"Are you kidding? Why would I tell anyone?" Folding her arms over her chest, she added, "Why are you here?"

His mind blanked as her breasts strained against the pressure of her arms. His eyes closed. Focus. Ah, yes: Tarrlok.

"Your words of an alliance have become more appealing as time has passed." He moved to sit on the bed, facing her. "I am here because I wish to work to the same goal. Officially."

Her eyes narrowed. "You attacked two dozen people today, Amon. How can I be allies with a man who does such horrible things?"

"Because I can provide what you cannot: a permanent solution to Councilman Tarrlok and his ilk."

"I don't like your solution."

"It is the one that your predecessor used on Firelord Ozai, is it not?"

By her sigh, he could tell that she had no argument. She moved to sit beside him, a strip of moonlight from the cracks in the window streaking down her face and body. "So why team up with me?"

"Because you are the only one who has seen Tarrlok's bloodbending first hand and lived to tell about it." Amon shifted to regard her. "I have heard the legends. I know that my particular skill set will be useless against a bloodbender. But with your help, with your information, I may be able to create technology to equalize the playing field."

"So that you can later use that technology against me?"

"No. When the time comes, Avatar, I will face you head on. No tricks."

Her knees bounced. "I'm not buying that you came all the way out here just to ask me to tell you a story about Tarrlok's bloodbending."

She was correct. Now that he had laid out his alliance, he could see what was really driving him. The conflict that had been tearing at him since he had set foot outside of that cave was coming to a head. Maybe that was for the best - he thought of his paralysis during the cleansing earlier that night. Whatever there was between them, it was slowly corroding his goals. It had to be addressed.

"Korra," he said, his voice soft, and when she turned to look at him with her beautiful moonlit eyes, his voice cracked: "I am accustomed to emotionally distancing myself from my past, using it to fuel my resolve rather than weigh me down. But there is one memory I cannot shake. It is on my mind since its inception, always, distracting me and agitating me." Staring intently at her, he added, "I am here to address it."

"You're talking about what happened with us?"

"Yes."

Her eyes were damp, her brows pinched. "We agreed that nothing happened," she accused.

"I'm aware of that."

"It was your choice for us to be at war!" Her voice was rising again; she quickly hushed it, hissing the next words: "You are the one who insisted things would return to normal."

"And they haven't."

"Of course they haven't! Not with you kissing me the way you did. Not with you stalking me to my room, pouring your heart out to try to sway me - or to manipulate me into trusting you so that I'll help you. I can't figure out which. What are you trying to get out of me, Amon?"

"Closure," he realized, the reasons suddenly crystallizing. "I want to end this."

Her eyes narrowed. "So end it."

He hesitated.

"You can't, can you?" she said. "Your feelings have gotten away on you." Her eyes dropped away from his gaze. "And so have mine."

They sat side-by-side on the bed, silent, their breaths the only sound in the small room. She pulled her legs to her chest.

"It doesn't make sense," she whispered, her voice muffled by her knees. "You stand for everything I hate. So why can't I stop thinking about you?"

"Because we are two complementing halves. Yin and yang." The words hung in the air.

Chancing a sideways glance at her, he saw a tear trailing down her cheek. Tears were normally not enough to faze him – most benders cried when he cleansed them – but this one made his heart ache. He reached out a hand and delicately smoothed the tear away with his thumb, afraid to breathe lest any movement startle her away.

She caught his hand and nuzzled into it, her breath hot against his skin. The warmth shot up his arm and down his torso, settling in his groin.

"I hate that even your hand against my skin is enough to drive me crazy," she mumbled into his palm. "I hate how badly I need you."

He silently agreed. Even the innocent puffs of her breath in his hand were making his mind grow hazy.

"Do you need me too, Amon?" she whispered. Her tongue wrapped around a finger, warm and slick, and the surprise of the gesture shocked an honest response out of him:

"Yes," he breathed. Spirits, did he need her. She ran her tongue up his finger and pulled it into her mouth, her teeth scraping the sensitive pads. Her eyes, heavily lidded, held his gaze, and a low groan escaped from his mouth. He was paralysed, transfixed by her suggestive expression.

Releasing him with her mouth, but not her eyes, she straddled him and eased him back to the bed. She slowly pressed her lips to the mask as if it were his face, and then her fingers curled around its base – the first person he had allowed to touch it since it have been created – and edged it up. Once his mouth was exposed, she dragged her lips lightly across his, the feather-light contact agonizing, their breath mingling between them. Her body hovered inches above him, close enough that he could feel its heat. He heard himself groan again, as if from a long way away. Both humiliated and enraptured by the effect she was having on him, he caught her wrists, intending to reclaim some control. She surprised him by delivering a long, slow kiss that left him breathless. Then, she lowered his mask back into place.

"Leave the mask on," she said. "I want to see you the way I see you in my dreams."

Heat flooded Amon's face and his hands reflexively tightened around her wrists. He had never expected the Avatar to be so seductive, so demanding. Giving in to his body's urges, he rolled her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head, and pressed his body between her legs. Her head rolled back and her legs wrapped around his waist.

He began to rock gently against her, both still fully clothed. Her head tossed and she fought to jerk her wrists from his grasp, but he held them tightly with one hand, freeing the other to drop down to her breast. The pace was agonizing to bear even for him, but he kept it deliberately slow, torturing her with the same anticipation she had been building for him. Her eyes screwed shut and her breaths grew harsh, half-moans. She met his movements, urging him to hasten the pace, then suddenly her face split in a silent scream and she arched off the bed. At last, he could see her face in throes of pleasure, beautiful and strained, and he tried to memorize every detail. After several seconds, she relaxed, and he cupped her cheek. Her eyelids parted.

"I am yours, Amon. Tell me how you want me."

The words rocketed through him, settled in his core. His voice was harsh: "Undress and roll onto your front."

Together they pulled off her clothes and she rolled onto all fours. He freed himself and fell into place behind her, both of them crying out as they joined. At first, he ran his hands along her silhouette, feeling the curves of her ribs, waist and hips, but then he found himself longing for more contact. He bent over, pressing his chest to her back; one hand snaked around to her breasts, the other nestling between her legs. They moved in unison, her body strong and solid and soft all at once beneath him, and he found that he was losing control over his pace. As they moved faster, she began to whimper and, though he longed to make her yell, he raised his hands from her breasts to cover her mouth her lest she wake up any of her neighbours. She gave a final muffled cry, biting his hand in her pleasure, and the sensation pulled him over the edge. He barely had time to pull out before pleasure engulfed his mind, and he struggled to stifle the yell that tried to escape his lips.

He came to with his forehead pressed to her back, his hands on her hips. Sweat dripped down his temples behind the mask. When he pulled away, Korra rolled onto her back, her hand draped across her forehead. Her hair fanned behind her, half of it scattered from her normal ponytails. Her eyelids were heavy and her mouth hung open a crack, her lips dark and moist. Still dazed, Amon ran a hand along her jaw and down her naked body, enamoured with every detail.

"I hope you found what you came here looking for, Amon." Her lips curled into a lazy, cheeky smile.

"I believe I found the exact opposite." He smoothed a strand of hair from her damp forehead. "Korra, we can't-"

"Don't," she said, and he was suddenly reminded of his imagined interruption when he was trying to cleanse the captive earlier that night. The afterglow faded entirely as it all flooded back: his mission. Her opposition.

"We can't do this," he persisted. "There can be no happy ending for us."

"I know." Her hand rose to find his, and her fingers intertwined with his. "I just want to pretend that there can be. Just for a little longer."

So did he, more than anything. Relenting, he lay down beside her, his thumb skating across her knuckles.

"I never did get your answer," he said. "Will you ally with me against Tarrlok?"

There was a long pause.

"Yes," she said.

.*.*.*.

To be continued in Chapter 8...