A/N: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Big Angst.

"Mail," Anisa muttered as she passed Kiriko's open door. Her head drooped, shoulders sagging, and she simply tossed the letter and continued on toward her own room.

Kiriko couldn't blame her. They were both exhausted, having just gotten home from a three-day search outside the city limits. That was the plan now—start nearby and branch further and further out. They were going to search the whole world piece by piece if that was what it took, even if they had to do it alone.

With a weary sigh, she forced herself to get up and retrieve the letter. It was from Raniq; the handwriting, both inside and out, was uncharacteristically messy.

Dear Kiriko,

I know you're super busy and stressed right now, and hate to burden you with my problems when yours are so much worse, but who knows—maybe this'll be a nice distraction for you.

The situation is too complicated for me to fully explain in a letter, so I'll give you the quick version. Maybe you've already heard about it from someone else or on the news. Long story short, I'm now fostering two adolescents who are potentially about to become parents to twins, assuming everything goes well. Which it might not.

Everyone thinks I'm crazy. I'm beginning to think it myself. I keep questioning whether or not I did the right thing and could really use a friend, though I feel really selfish saying that. The Beifongs check on me regularly but it's not the same as having you around. Someone I can confide in.

I know you're away right now, but I hope that when you get back, you'll take pity on me (heh) and spare a day or so from your search. I promise I won't make you do any housework or anything. I'm taking some personal leave and I'm kinda going stir-crazy, being at home so much. So I hope you'll be able to visit.

Love, Raniq

P.S. I moved into one of Su's guest houses.

Kiriko packed a bag and only paused long enough to exchange a few words with her sister. "Tell Mom I went to Zaofu."

Several seconds passed with no answer.

"Hello? Are you asleep? Did you hear me?"

"I heard you."

"Okay. Bye."

On the way to the train station, she thought about Raniq's letter. Her fatigue was too great to allow the surprise that should be there, but Kiriko was curious. She felt like she'd missed so much and was filled with guilt to realize she'd basically abandoned her friend, which was why there had been no hesitation to catch the next train to Zaofu.

The three-hour trip was over in the blink of an eye. An attendant shook her awake where she was curled up in a window seat.

"Excuse me, Miss. We've arrived."

There had been too many mornings lately in which Kiriko woke up in places other than her bed, and it took her several long seconds to remember where she was. But the metal spires of Zaofu were hard to miss.

She was halfway to Raniq's house before she realized it was the wrong direction. Another half hour of walking brought her to the Beifong estate. Su, who was strolling through one of their gardens, found her first.

"Kiriko! It's so wonderful to see you." Her sympathetic smile was familiar; everyone seemed to have it these days. "Any news?"

"No."

"I'm sorry. I wish there was more I could do to help…"

Kiriko just shrugged. She knew most people had already chosen to grieve in their own way and move on. "I'm here to see Raniq."

"Oh, right, of course! I guess you heard about all the exciting things that have been happening for her."

"Her letter was kind of vague, actually…"

"Well, maybe it's better for you to see for yourself and let her explain. I'll show you where she's staying now."

"Can't believe she moved here," Kiriko muttered. "She swore she wanted to be on her own."

Su laughed lightly. "Trust me, she did so very reluctantly."

It only took another five minutes to reach the guest houses. At the door, she stopped and pulled Kiriko into a brief hug. "It'll get a little easier, with time," she whispered. "I'm glad you're here. Raniq's a bit frazzled."

She said goodbye and Kiriko was left standing on the threshold, apprehensive of what awaited her inside. But the door opened just as she raised her hand to knock.

Raniq gasped and attacked her with a hug. "Oh, Spirits! You're here!"

"I'm here."

"I thought I was hearing things when I heard your voice out here," she said more quietly. "But come in, come in. You look like you could use something strong."

"Yes, please." Kiriko glanced around curiously. The living room and kitchen were all one big, open space. Everything was bright and cheerful, lavishly furnished and decorated. And tidy, of course. Raniq was a tidy person. "So…where are they?"

"Sleeping. They usually have a nap after they eat. But they'll probably wake up soon because it's been a couple of hours."

Kiriko got comfortable on the couch and yawned; another nap didn't sound so bad. Raniq didn't say anything else until the kettle was on, at which point she sat next to Kiriko and pulled her knees up.

"I have so much to tell you. It's the craziest thing that's ever happened to me. I don't think my life is ever going to be the same."

"Well, you're always saying how you want a family. Congrats, I guess?"

"It's not funny," Raniq said in a thin, brittle voice.

The unexpected reproach was a little jarring. "I fell asleep on the train and I'm still half-asleep. Gimme a break. Just tell me what's going on. Your letter was so cryptic."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just really stressed out." She relaxed her hands, which had been anxiously tugging at the hem of her shirt. "It'll be easier to show you than explain. Follow me, and be quiet."

They went to the room at the very end of the hall and Raniq opened the door just enough to peek inside. There were two single beds that had been pushed together, though their occupants were curled up together on just one.

Raniq looked back with a finger on her lips, then tiptoed inside. What Kiriko saw when she got closer made her stomach clench. The grogginess vanished, instantly replaced with a different kind of discomfort.

They were children. Actual children. Not at all what Kiriko was expecting. The letter hadn't prepared her for this. 'Adolescent orphans who were about to become parents,' it had said. Did that mean this little girl, whose petite body was mostly hidden under a blanket, was…pregnant? Surely not… It was too disturbing to contemplate.

After a few long seconds of staring, Raniq took her wrist and pulled her back out into the hall. The door was closed just as quietly as it had been opened, and they made it back to the living room right as the kettle started whistling.

For the first time in weeks, Kiriko stopped worrying about Korra, if only for a few minutes. "No wonder you're so stressed," she muttered as she sat back down.

Raniq busied herself in the kitchen. "Yeah," was all she said at first. It wasn't until the tea was poured and she sat down that more explanation came. "They showed up in Zaofu a few weeks ago, starving and alone. Their names are Mara and Jojin."

"I assumed they were teenagers…" Kiriko muttered. "When I read your letter, I mean. But… Shit, they're so young. How old are they?"

"We don't know. They don't even know. But we think they're probably between eleven and thirteen."

"Was she–" It was hard to get the word out with the image of Mara in her mind. "Raped?"

"No. They're just…um... They've been on their own for a very long time. They didn't know any better." Her voice caught there and she seemed to need a moment to compose herself. "She's about five months along. With twins. We don't know if they're going to make it or not…"

Kiriko couldn't wrap her brain around what Raniq was saying. What little had been visible in the deep shadows of the bedroom didn't hint at such a dire fate. Mara had just looked like a peacefully sleeping little girl.

"She's tiny," Kiriko muttered, hands clenched around the steaming mug. Her own heat went into it, though she stopped herself when she realized that the tea had started to boil. "Too young. Too small. Is she really going to have them? Surely, she was given options?"

Raniq then launched into a very confusing and disjointed explanation of the last few weeks. It was a sad story, and by the end of it, she'd worked herself up to the point of trembling.

"I'm so worried that I made the wrong choice. What if she can't carry to term? What if she loses both and it destroys her? Would that really be better than if I had just let Tomiko do what she thought was best?"

They were questions without good answers. "You can't predict the future. All you can do is trust your gut. But… It sounds to me like Mara is the one who made the choice, for her own life. Whatever happens, it's not on you."

"It is, though. She's a child. A child. And I'm her parent now, legally. I'm supposed to make the decisions that she's too young and naive to make herself."

"I disagree," Kiriko said sharply. "She's a parent now, too. She's the only one who can make that kind of choice about her kids."

Everything about this situation was wrong and twisted. It didn't feel real. Surely, she was still on the train, having a bad dream. But before she could 'wake up', the sound of a door opening reached her ears. Jojin appeared a few seconds later.

Seeing him walking around was much worse, and Kiriko had to force herself not to gawk. Knobby knees and elbows stretched tight against his skin. How could he even stand upright with so little muscle mass?

"I'm sorry," Raniq said, getting up. "Did we wake you?"

"No. I'm just thirsty." His voice was brittle, cracking every few syllables, though he didn't even look old enough for that. Green eyes full of wariness swiveled over to Kiriko.

"I'll get you something. Are you hungry, too?" But she didn't wait for an answer. The fridge was already open and she was taking things out of it. "This is my friend, Kiriko. Remember I mentioned her before?"

"Hi," he said softly.

Kiriko had to clear her throat to make any sounds come out. "Hello."

A couple of awkward seconds passed, then he broke eye contact and walked back to his room.

"Don't mind him," Raniq said quietly as she scooped mushy-looking food out of several containers onto a plate. "Neither of them is used to being around people. And they don't trust anyone. Especially men. Small talk isn't something they've ever had the chance to learn. Plus, I think they're kind of tired of people wanting to see them. Being poked and prodded. Stared at. The press have been relentless. Poor Mara. I've been really worried she might get too stressed out. I'm doing everything I can to keep her calm and relaxed. But also not too bored. She's on total bed rest for the next—hopefully—eighteen weeks."

"Eighteen weeks? Of sitting in bed all day?"

"Minimum. Preferably twenty, if she can make it that far." Raniq put the plate on a tray alongside two glasses of water. "I know it won't be easy, especially once she gets her strength back. I don't know... We'll see. But just give me a minute. I'll be right back."

This is so messed up. Those kids? Almost parents? They should be outside playing. Getting into trouble. Going to school.

It was a poignant reminder of just how privileged her own childhood had been. She couldn't even fathom what they'd gone through in their short lives. No parents. No home. Scrounging for food. Wandering around aimlessly with no purpose or hope. Would they even know what it was like to play? To have innocent, childish fun?

Raniq came back shortly and sat back down to idly sip her tea. "Mara's awake. I asked if she wanted to meet you, but I don't think she's feeling up to any visitors right now. Don't take it personally. Half the Beifong family has stopped by since we moved in, so I think she's tired of it."

"It's fine. I don't care. I'm sure I'll meet her at some point while I'm here." And frankly, the longer I can put it off, the better. Even the mere thought of her plight made Kiriko's stomach squirm with discomfort.

"Well… Oh! Spirits, I feel terrible. I haven't even asked about you yet. Is there any news? But I guess you would've told me if there was…"

"No news. Anisa and I spent a few days searching outside the city. We're just going to keep looking. What else can we do?"

Raniq's pained gaze was even more piercing than before. "I really wish I could help. And I know I've said it before, but I'm so, so sorry you're going through this. I know there's nothing I can say to make it better, but please— Don't feel like you can't talk to me because of what I've got going on. I want to be here for you. I'm just stressed and I really needed to vent, but I want you to know that you can vent to me, too."

"I know. And thanks." The truth was, it was too hard to talk about. "Actually, you've done a pretty good job of distracting me. I do want to get back to looking for her ASAP, but I just need…a little rest. A good night's sleep. So tell me all your troubles, and if I nod off in the middle, consider it a compliment."

A familiar sound drew Kiriko down the hall the next morning as she was coming out of the bathroom. The door to Mara and Jojin's room was ajar and she could hear the television. She knew exactly what was playing on it.

They were curled up in bed together, though awake and on top of the blankets this time, and looked over warily when she stopped in the doorway. Kiriko cringed and tried not to stare at Mara.

"You like pro-bending?" she said to break the awkward silence.

Mara looked at her, at the television, and then back at her. "Is that you?" she asked, pointing at the screen.

It felt like an invitation, so Kiriko went the rest of the way into the room so she could see properly. They were watching the finals match from her first world-class championship—specifically, the tie-breaker duel. For a moment, she watched it play out with nostalgic fondness, though there was a lingering bitterness now. The current season was passing by without her this year.

"Yep." The roar of the crowd could be heard in the background. It wasn't enough to make her smile, but a few muscles in her shoulders relaxed. "Raniq told me you're an earthbender."

"Yeah."

"You'll fit right in with the Beifongs, then. Can you metalbend?"

"I never tried it." She had a strange way of speaking. It was like she was in a hurry to get the words out and then run back to hide behind a wall of silence. "I'm not supposed to bend right now."

"Oh. Right… Well, I'll let you get back to watching. This one— It's my favorite. Wish I could go back there."

As she left the room, it occurred to her that maybe it was an insensitive thing to say to two kids who'd never had good times to look back on. There was nothing behind them, and nothing ahead but an uncertain future.

"Are you going to the Winter Solstice Festival?" Anisa asked in a dull voice, picking at her dinner.

It was just her and Kiriko that night. Asami was working late—again. It hadn't taken long to figure out that her way of dealing with Korra's absence was to make herself busier. Not that Kiriko and Anisa had been at home much, either, so they really couldn't blame her. But both of them were just so tired now—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

"I dunno. You?"

"Maybe. My friends were asking."

Silence.

"Are you giving up?" Kiriko asked.

"No," Anisa said harshly. "I'm not giving up. You go to Zaofu to visit Raniq, don't you? How is this any different?"

"It's not. I was just asking…"

The rest of the meal was silent, then they both went to bed. Anisa had taken to occasionally crawling into Kiriko's bed after a couple of hours, but she didn't do it that night. It had become difficult to sleep alone, so Kiriko lay there for a while, staring into the dark.

There was no more emotion left in her. The fear, sorrow, and anger that plagued her in endless cycles were depleted for the day. They would be renewed by morning, but at least this brief period between daytime and dreams gave her a bit of a respite.

She didn't want to sleep and face another day, but the fatigue did eventually drag her under—and the torment that awaited in the depths of her subconscious sent her back to reality with a choked scream.

The details of the nightmare were already fading, slipping from her grasp, but it had been bad. Really bad. The worst of her whole life. Her body shook from head to toe and she flung off the covers.

Hot. Too hot. She couldn't breathe! Had to get out…

In a frantic haze, Kiriko half-stumbled, half-crawled across the room and flung open the door to her balcony. Frigid winter air rushed in. Every inch of skin broke out in goosebumps and the trembling turned to shivering, and then to shaking as she broke down into ragged, gasping sobs.

The night was clear but a dusting of snow lingered on the balcony. Kiriko dragged herself to the railing and held on for dear life. Flashes of the nightmare ripped through her mind, too vague to give her a clear picture, yet still vivid and intense.

Screaming.

Earthquakes.

A crushing sense of despair, the weight of a mountain quashing what little hope remained.

Oh, Spirits. No, no, no no no. I can't– It's too hard. It's too much. Oh, Spirits, she's dead, isn't she? She's never coming back. It's too hard and I can't do it. I can't do it, Mom! Please, I can't. How do I do this?

The universe gave her no answer. It just let her scream in her head until sleep took her once again—this time with no nightmares or any dreams at all.

Distant voices brought her back eventually.

"Careful, careful. Gently."

"What was she thinking?"

Someone was carrying her. A few seconds after that revelation, Kiriko felt a soft mattress underneath her and warm hands stripping her pajamas from her body. So cold. She tried to find her chi to warm up, but nothing happened.

"M-Mom…?"

"Oh, thank the Spirits," Asami said. "Hey, can you hear me? Try to stay awake, okay?"

The blankets were being piled on thick. Heavy. Suffocating. She tried to struggle but strong arms held her down.

"Just relax. We've got help coming."

Kiriko couldn't open her frozen eyelids. Or refused to. She wasn't sure which. "I'm– s-so c-cold." The shivering started then. Uncontrollable shivering. A full-body spasm. "It h-hurts."

"Why were you outside?" Anisa asked in a plaintive voice that held unshed tears.

The question made it all come back—a flood of grief that made the physical pain pale in comparison. She wanted to cry, to get it all out and banish the source, but nothing happened. Her body was seizing up, frozen. No tears. No heat.

They were rubbing her arms and legs now, trying to bring some life back into them. The burning ache was almost a welcome distraction. Hot water bottles were lined up alongside her body and the heat seemed to be sucked out of them almost instantly. Still, she kept her eyes shut tight.

The pain had yet to relent at all when their family doctor arrived. "How long was she outside?"

"I don't know."

"Kiriko? Can you hear me?"

"Nnnggg," was all that came out. Her tongue felt sluggish and useless.

"You're lucky you found her when you did."

"Is she going to be okay?"

Kiriko zoned out of the conversation at that point. Now that she was starting to get a little warmer, the pain in her mind seemed to expand alongside a burning sensation in her hands and feet. That was when the tears finally came. Angry, screaming tears. She was vaguely aware of people holding her down, speaking soothing words next to her ear, but she ignored them.

I'm never going to see her again. If I open my eyes, it's all over. I'll have to accept it for real. The world is empty. Why couldn't they just let me die out there?

When the meltdown had run its course and all of her energy was expended, Kiriko just lay there and pretended to be asleep. It was embarrassing to think about what had happened. They probably thought she'd lost her mind.

Still, those thoughts were only fleeting. Mostly, she just felt numb. Her bones ached. Her skin prickled. But inside the cavity where her heart beat a steady rhythm, there was just…nothing. No feeling at all.

Finally, sometime that afternoon, her body demanded that she do something besides lie there. Asami and Anisa had spent the day filling her up with hot tea that had too much honey in it—which she drank while still stubbornly refusing to admit full consciousness—and now she was about to burst.

Reluctant eyes finally cracked open with a sense of finality. Her room was just the same as it had always been. The curtains were pulled over the window and balcony door, though soft light still came through. Clothes were strewn around haphazardly. And Asami sat in a chair by the bed, flipping through some stapled papers. She glanced over when Kiriko sat up.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

"I have to pee."

"Can you walk?"

"I'll manage."

Everything felt wrong. Nothing had changed, but it seemed like everything was the wrong shape. Or slightly crooked. The bathroom was one extra step too far. The hallway beyond it seemed longer—an endless stretch that would take her to a bedroom that belonged to a ghost and the woman who still waited for her to return.

Kiriko shivered and looked away. But with the physical relief of emptying her bladder came another kind of relief. That newfound emptiness in her chest was raw but clean—a wound that could be bandaged and tended to. She felt lighter, like a gust of wind might blow her over.

She returned to her bed to find Asami gone, though the absence was brief.

"I thought you might be hungry. Do you want some soup?"

"I guess."

She would've preferred to eat it in silence, but Asami didn't let her.

"So…do you want to tell me what you were doing outside?"

"I had a nightmare," Kiriko said stonily, unable to explain what had happened. "I needed some fresh air. Then I fell asleep."

"That's it?" There was a hint of accusation in her voice.

"Yep."

She took a few noisy slurps and refused to make eye contact. The silence stretched on until she heard her mom sniff. The noise was so unexpected that she looked up sharply, just in time to see a tear run down each cheek.

Asami hadn't let them see her break down. Throughout this whole ordeal, she'd been a pillar of weary strength. Often absent, yet unwavering and stolid.

"Mom– I wasn't–"

"I've been working too much. I'm sorry. It's just–" She took a deep, steadying breath and blinked several times. "I'll try to be here more. I know you two are determined to keep looking, and I think that's great–"

"No," Kiriko blurted.

"Hm?"

"I'm done. I can't– anymore–" Now freshly hydrated, the tears came again, though not as violently this time. Asami climbed into bed and wrapped her up tightly, making it difficult to not completely fall apart again. "I'm sorry. It's too hard. It hurts too much. I can't do it anymore. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Asami murmured. "You do what you have to do. Just…please don't sleep outside anymore. You really scared me. And Anisa. You were barely breathing when I found you."

"Sorry."

It was an odd feeling. Part of her wished she hadn't found her. All of the pain would've been washed away. Covered by a fresh coat of snow.

But that wasn't really true, was it? She now knew how much agony rippled across the world when someone left it. Dying would only ease her own suffering, but multiply it for everyone else. There was something almost soothing about realizing that—acknowledging that people loved her and would miss her if she died.

Just when she was beginning to feel the tiniest glimmer of peace creep in, Asami ruined it.

"I have to tell you something. It's…not very good news, I'm afraid, but I assume you'll be more upset if I put off telling you."

"...What?" Kiriko said, more curious than worried. Her worst nightmare had already happened and Asami didn't sound particularly distraught about this new thing. How bad could it be?

"Su called me a few hours ago. Raniq's foster daughter went into labor last night. I'm afraid one of the babies didn't make it. As far as I know, the other is still hanging in there, but…" She trailed off. It was clear in her voice that her expectations were low.

Well, I was wrong. This is definitely much worse than I thought. More death. More loss. More grief. Even so, it was hard to really feel anything. There was a faint nausea creeping up her throat, but her emotions appeared to be taking a brief vacation. "It was too soon," she heard herself saying in a wooden voice.

"Yeah. That poor girl."

"Raniq…"

"I'm sure she could use a friend right now," Asami said. "Maybe you could go see her? Beats sitting around doing nothing. It's nice to feel needed."

It took Kiriko a week to work up the nerve to visit Zaofu. During that time, she trained. She trained and trained until her legs gave out and every bit of snow in the backyard had melted.

Finally, she packed a bag and hopped on a train, actually relieved to get out of Republic City. The New Year's Gala was in a few days and she didn't want to have to socialize or watch the Tura Tura. It had been easy to forget about it when the search for Korra was ongoing, when hope was still strong, but now that she'd given up, missing out on something that once brought her joy seemed so pointless and empty.

And then there was pro-bending…

That was another whole issue she'd been avoiding. What was happening with Niwen and Lotak? She honestly had no idea. Neither had tried to contact her since she yelled at them and refused to let them recruit replacements to continue the season.

Shein had jumped onto another team as a last-minute replacement. They'd gotten third place in the tournament. Kiriko only knew because Raniq had told her.

Would the Polar Bear Dogs ever return to the stage? It was a heavy question to pose to herself. So much of her passion for pro-bending had been connected to Korra. With her gone, it felt hollow.

No, don't look at it like that. Keep it going. Keep the good memories alive. It's what she'd want.

She clutched at her chest from the sudden suffocating pressure that spread through it and tried to think of other things. Even thinking of Mara was a welcome relief. Kiriko had no personal attachment to her or the baby that had died. It was sad, yes, but in a vague, distant way—someone else's pain that could only chafe the most outer layer of her defenses.

But Raniq… She was the kind of person to make other people's suffering her own. And she was so invested in Mara and Jojin. Thinking about her brought on a wave of guilt for waiting a whole week to come. There had been no letters, which spoke volumes. Raniq was always writing letters.

The train pulled into Zaofu with a sense of ominous foreboding. Night had come early; the pale gray sky, heavy with snow, cast eerie shadows across the city. A bitter wind rolled off the mountains and Kiriko pulled her coat a little tighter.

Raniq's house was dark and empty when she arrived. Locked up tight. Her next stop was the big house most of the Beifongs lived in. It, too, was quiet. Bolin was the one who greeted her with one of his bone-cracking hugs, though he seemed unusually subdued.

"They're all at the medical center," he said when she asked about Raniq. "She, Mara, and Jojin have been staying here but she takes them over for a few hours every evening."

"How– How are they?" It was beginning to feel more real now that she was here. The atmosphere in the house was reminiscent of a funeral.

"Not great, if I'm being honest. Jojin's coping a little better, I think, but they're both pretty listless. He and Su are the only ones who can get Mara to eat. Raniq is…obsessed. She hardly ever leaves the medical center."

"Shit…" Kiriko rubbed her hands down her face. "I should've come sooner."

He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Hey, no one expects you to be a pillar of emotional support right now."

"Everything really sucks, huh?"

"Yeah. It does."

"Well…" She exhaled heavily and braced herself. "I guess I better go find Raniq."

"You want me to walk you over?"

"No, I'll be fine."

It started snowing while she walked—not heavily, but the driving wind made it feel worse than it was. Memories of the blizzard in the south pole six months ago blasted their way into her thoughts and suddenly she was crouched in an alley, gasping for breath.

"Shit. Shit… Fuck…" she muttered through clenched teeth. "No, it doesn't make sense. How can you be gone? All that power for nothing? You fought nature and won."

The sudden wave of grief flooded her senses and blocked out the chill around her, but receded almost as quickly as it had come, leaving behind weary discomfort. It took another ten minutes to continue on.

Reaching the medical center provided little relief, though. Bad weather was left behind, replaced with too-sterile white walls and gray-tiled floors. An unpleasant chemical smell permeated everything.

"Can you tell me where Raniq Varrick is?" she asked the woman at the front desk, who didn't even have to consult any records or make any calls to provide an answer.

"In the NICU, I'm sure. It's in the maternity ward. Just head down that hall and follow the signs."

People stared at Kiriko as she passed. That in itself wasn't unusual—she always got stared at in Republic City—but here it seemed like everyone knew who she was and why she was there. Invasive.

The NICU was easy to locate; it felt almost as if she already knew where to go. One wall was mostly windows and she stopped short of the door, sure they wouldn't let her in, anyway. But the main reason for her feet falling still was that she had spotted a familiar face.

Mara's petite frame was swallowed by a wheelchair and a thick blanket. She just...sat there. Face blank. Her gaze was focused on one of the incubators, which Kiriko couldn't quite see inside from her vantage point.

Why didn't Mara do something? Why didn't she press her hands against the plastic cover? Why didn't she reach out lovingly, as a mother should, even knowing she couldn't touch? Why was she just sitting there, rigid, hands in her lap? It was like she didn't even care and was only there because someone had put her there and said 'stay'.

"Kiriko?"

She turned to see Raniq hurrying over, eyes puffy and bloodshot, though her expression was one of surprise. And relief. Without another word, she buried her face in Kiriko's shoulder and hugged her tightly for quite a long time.

"I'd ask if you're okay, but I know it's a stupid question."

"I'm not," Raniq said in a muffled voice, still firmly attached. "I'm not okay."

"I know."

Finally, Raniq took a deep breath and stepped back. Her gaze traveled over to Mara, who hadn't moved an inch. "If that baby dies, I'll never forgive myself."

"None of this is your fault."

"Yeah it is," she whispered. "I could've prevented this."

"Not necessarily. And she still would've suffered. And probably hated you for it."

"Better than her hating herself." Raniq turned her tear-streaked face back to Kiriko. "It was awful. It was the most horrible, awful thing I've ever been through. I can't–" Her voice began to shake. "I don't even have the words. And I know that whatever I'm feeling, she's feeling it a hundred times stronger. But she won't– She won't even touch her. She just…stares. Until she can't stand it anymore and leaves the room."

"Where's Jojin?"

"He went to the bathroom– Oh, there he is now." She walked away to meet him at the door, said a few quiet words, and helped him get ready to go back inside. "Do you want to go in?" she asked Kiriko.

"I– I don't think so."

Jojin looked the same as he always did, but with a dullness in his usually sharp, bright eyes. He didn't look around with cautious curiosity; his attention was locked on Mara.

Kiriko watched Raniq take him inside. She watched him put his arm around Mara shoulder's, thought she didn't respond to the touch. She watched those two kids, so much smaller than the adults around them, stare at the machine that held their child, who was barely clinging to life.

It would be easy to take a few more steps and be able to see inside the incubator. So easy, yet impossible. She couldn't do it. Didn't want to. The scene in front of her was already hard enough to stomach.

A woman walked into her view, blocking it, and then pushed a supply cart out of the way. Kiriko drew in a sharp breath.

Mother of Faces…

It was even worse than she'd imagined. The baby lying in the incubator barely looked human—more like a misshapen doll whose head would've easily fit into the palm of her hand. A dozen tubes and wires were connected to virtually every inch of the tiny body, which was engulfed by a too-large diaper.

A minute or so later, Raniq's voice jolted her back to reality.

"Her name is Sapphire. She has beautiful blue eyes, just like Mara. Brighter than most newborns. The other one–" Raniq had to stop and clear her throat. "She had Jojin's eyes. They named her Jade."

"Sapphire and Jade. Poetic."

"Jojin came up with them. I think it was because Mara was really into this one geology program…"

It felt like such a stupidly mundane thing to talk about. Not…reverent enough for the situation.

"I wonder if she'll be an earthbender. The kid, I mean." The thought led to another, somewhat unwanted one. There might be another Avatar out there somewhere. A newborn. An earthbender… Her focus once again zeroed in on the tiny creature in the incubator. Surely not. It's been too long. Months.

"Could be," Raniq said. "Or a firebender."

Kiriko turned to her in confusion. "Huh?"

"Jojin's father was one. I'm sure I told you…?"

"Oh. Yeah. Right. The abusive piece of shit. I prefer to pretend he never existed."

"So do I," Raniq agreed with a sigh. "And so does Jojin. I hope she's not a firebender. It would be a constant reminder for him."

Kiriko didn't want to ask, but the question was burning a hole in her mind. "Do you think she's gonna make it?"

"I don't know. But…she's made it a week. She's a fighter, that's for sure. I'm allowing myself to be cautiously optimistic."

"I think you're right. I have a good feeling. The first good feeling I've had in a long time."