In her dreams, Korra finds herself in that ethereal space between realms, in an endless sea of gossamer blue. It is almost like looking into a mirror, but the person she sees reflected before her is not herself. Kuvira floats in the same manner, eyes closed, with dark hair drifting about as if suspended in water. They are polar opposites, enemies, yet two of a kind – both fiercely determined, obstinate, and desperately grasping for some sliver of control in a life that has so frequently denied it.
She sees Mako resting on that field of multi-colored grasses in the spirit realm, shirtless and lying beside that puddle of a spirit. Korra smooths her palms across the planes of his body, feeling his skin, feeling below, feeling his chi pulsing through him hot as blood. In his veins runs fire. Physical and spiritual and the same.
As she practices lightningbending, she feels the connectedness of her chi, not the divisibility of it. Light and dark, up and down, life and death. Sides of a coin that cannot be split. When she strains to force the two apart, the energies snap back together sooner than intended, burning fingers rather than shooting beyond them.
When she dreams of lightning, she dreams of herself and Mako too, snapping together again perhaps too quickly, fingers stinging hot yet unafraid to try again. When she holds him deep inside her, reveling in the weight of his body on hers, feeling his warmth spread within, there is that connectedness again, where it feels as though they have never been two separate people at all.
She imagines Asami, too, thrusting deep with that creation of hers, whispering some wisdom about dichotomies and binaries and how such things don't truly exist. "I want a lot of things," Asami tells her, lacing their fingers together before Korra's hands are pinned above her head, both soft and rough. She thinks of how Asami initiated their first kiss, but Korra kissed Asami's body first – a game of push and pull, balanced, and perfect for them. It is a dance without a designated leader and follower, and its steps are found intuitively.
She sees the Tree of Time, a manifestation of cosmic past and future, its roots physically connecting both physical and spiritual realms as if it were the universe holding the hands of two lovers. Together, through the tree, those two worlds connect.
In other dreams, she sees the library shifting through sand and sea and sky, being dragged forth with each flap of an owl's wings. There are no barriers between realms, only a reversal of gravity. She imagines being pulled and pulled until she's free-falling, tumbling wildly, bracing for impact with the forest floor, only to burst through that layer to continue plummeting.
More than anything, though, she feels spirit vines twisting across the material world, as if threading themselves into every nook and cranny, spiderwebbed like veins beneath the soil.
She feels what it's like to travel through them as she sleeps.
Maybe it's not real, but with the vines, Korra can see Naga pawing at and rolling in this winter's first dusting of snow.
She can see a haggard-looking Kuvira in platinum chains, bound to the center of a maximum-security prison cell, the would-be dictator lying flat on the bare floor and staring tiredly at the ceiling.
Toph, laid back and relaxed with her feet buried several inches in mud, might even be watching Korra back.
Korra thinks of those who have left this world, too. Twisting and slithering along vines like a snake through grass, she can feel herself reaching across the planet, like a shirshu following the scent trail of whoever happens to come to mind next.
When she remembers Amon, she finds a plump little girl instead.
When she searches for Zaheer's combustionbender, she finds a toddler.
When she thinks of Mako's mother, who must have looked so much like him, all sharp angles and golden irises – Naoki, her name was – Korra sees a teenager who looks nothing like them, dark of complexion and eyes, practicing earthbending.
Maybe it is real.
In her dreams, she reaches out for Aang and Wan, believing this might be the way to find them at last and bring them home. But it is like grasping at air. The reach does not extend in any direction for it does not know where to go. Instead of the Avatars falling through her fingers like sand, she can only look down at her empty palm, wishing something were there.
She can feel Raava's light radiating in every pore of her being, and inside Raava sleeps a glimmer of Vaatu. Separate no longer.
Vaatu won't bother her in this lifetime, still just a drop in the ocean, but with time he shall grow. That is a burden Korra has placed upon all future lifetimes. Darkness will fester and compete with lightness even in the hearts of children, and Korra will be the Avatar they turn to for advice. She is the one they will point to and blame.
Korra still wakes in the night, sometimes with a shout, sometimes with tears. Sometimes she will draw herself out of bed, shaking, retching and stumbling away. The person or persons beside her have learned to stop asking for details, though they still look for what she needs in her face. It may be a matter of being held, or being distracted with soft words and a hand stroking through her hair. Other times she wants to be ignored, as if pretending these dreams aren't plaguing her could make them stop.
She never sleeps alone. That is a sort of separation she cannot stand.
A few of these dreams are nice to experience, but others are horrific, and their underlying message is always the same. Nothing is separate, just like man and spirit, bound reciprocally and in perpetuity. This is the cosmic energy of the universe coming to greet her like the ground rushing toward her face as she falls.
She cries on Mako too often, wetting his chest with tears, but he never draws away. This isn't how she wanted their relationship to start. She wanted to be level-headed, emotionally stable so things could be good between them at last. They do find a sweet sort of symbiosis, a love that resonates with tender thoughts of both past and future, but many nights she feels as if she's failing to meet his expectations.
He never fails to meet hers, even so. Perhaps that makes it worse.
Asami has a harder time, sometimes struggling to stifle tears of her own, asking what else she could possibly do to help. She'll rub her back, or make tea, or start a bath, or put on music. Always expressing love through acts of service. Other times she just holds Korra's hand, looking as concerned as she had after the poison ravaged Korra's body, with neither of them knowing what to say.
How can Korra explain it? Nothing feels real anymore. She's seeing the world through a different lens, suddenly discerning patterns in everything and having visions of people she doesn't know. The individuals she is desperate to rediscover still lay beyond her grasp. Whether they're just obscured from her view or truly gone, it's impossible to say.
Maybe she cannot find the Avatars because she is them. When she looks down at her empty palm, perhaps that's her answer.
Korra doesn't tell Mako she has seen his mother's soul in the body of another, reborn and alive again. Obviously souls may reincarnate into completely dissimilar people – the Avatar cycle is proof enough of that – but searching for a specific someone and seeing the face of a child instead is beyond jarring.
She doesn't search for Hiroshi because she knows what she will see. He isn't in the afterlife. Korra would have to tell Asami about some squalling newborn and that news may be too difficult to hear right now. It could mean closure for Asami, or it could devastate her to know her parents are not truly at rest.
Asami should be throwing herself into her work. Her company is not completely dead. It's financially unstable due to the housing crisis, and her main factory was leveled in the war, but there is something to work with and she should be working. "This is my parents' legacy. It's all I have left of them," Asami said of Future Industries, but her attention has shifted to helping Korra through this difficult time instead.
Mako, too, should be working. Chief Beifong is superbly agitated by all of the time he's taken off to be with Korra, disappearing for a week at a time in random intervals with minimal notice given. He's a detective and cannot drop or reassign his caseload in this manner, even for the Avatar.
With pressure from both Korra and Tenzin, and a long, closed-door conversation with Mako, Lin begrudgingly backs down and allows Mako to work 'when available'. This is a level of generosity and leniency rarely shown in her, but Lin waves it off and tells Korra to get her shit together so Mako can actually be useful again. It's the nicest she's ever been.
Asami has delegated many responsibilities to others within her company so she may have the ability to disappear at any time. It isn't right, but Mako and Asami have argued their points so thoroughly and so well that Korra can't win. Both of them are willing to set their careers aside for Korra, at least temporarily, and it's one of the most aggravating things Korra has ever dealt with.
It's in the midst of an argument about work that Mako yells that he loves her, and pleads with her to stop shouldering these burdens alone. She should know better than to shut them out.
After that, Korra stops fighting it.
For her and Mako's one month anniversary, they take Korra to vacation in the Fire Nation. The smell of the sea is pleasant on the wind and its sand is pleasant between her toes. The water is too cold to properly swim in, but she enjoys watching Mako and Asami wandering along the beach in their swimwear anyway. As much as Korra loves water, she doesn't feel pleasure when she wades into it here, feeling its chill as small waves push and tug against her thighs. The sensation is just a thing that she's passively observing, as she's only vaguely aware of herself.
Her mind has begun to feel numb lately, like she's still dreaming. Floating through life on a cloud. She's felt this before in the depths of her depression: dissociation, Katara called it, where her mind and body feel like two separate beasts. But that's just an illusion, too. It isn't nearly as bad as it used to be, and it isn't paired with the agony of mere existence, even if it is paired with nightmares again.
There's so much to be happy about now, with the war over, their city and the Earth Kingdom on the path to recovery, and with two lovers who would move mountains for her. But there's still a fogginess in Korra's thoughts, a droning noise in her head so loud that she has a hard time hearing anything else. Maybe it's the aum sound that the universe supposedly makes. But that chakra remains blocked, and she feels no closer to cosmic understanding. True happiness is discolored by apathy, and below its surface, frustration and hopelessness.
A lot of time is spent meditating, reflecting, reading more about the thought chakra and attempting to tap into the essence of the universe. She's tried all the yoga poses, chugged more of that awful juice, repeated all the affirmations she can think of. But the affirmations for this chakra only serve to remind that everything is connected and that divinity rests inside of her. That makes her think of Vaatu, or the baby without the name of Hiroshi but perhaps the soul of him, and all the others she doesn't wish to know, compounded by her failure to connect to the ones she desperately yearns to know again.
Their third night vacationing here, Korra returns to the beach alone to meditate. Aang's lion-turtle should find her and provide some poetic nonsense that may illuminate the path forward.
When Korra digs her feet into the sand, searching for vines somewhere far below, she's at least able to connect with the world. She visualizes following the vines and searches high and low for the only one who may be able to give her answers. Finally, it registers that a singular lion-turtle remains at the bottom of the sea, hibernating in the darkness, hidden as if it were any other rock formation.
The lion-turtle doesn't come to her that night or any other night.
They take her to the Glacier Spirits Festival when the winter solstice is upon them. The southern sky dances with color, brighter than ever with the addition of friendly spirits slipping out from the southern portal. Wolf Cove is abound with activity and noise, with lights and games and food stalls, a ferris wheel, and countless people enjoying themselves to the fullest.
Mako tells Korra about the way in which he remembers their time here years ago. He recalls the adorable coat she wore then, her pleased expression when he hand-fed her cotton candy, the way her eyes shone when she saw prizes that she wanted. Korra remembers arguing, turning hostile as he tried to show support, pushing a stuffed Appa into his chest and storming off. When his fingers entwine with hers, expressing some level of forgiveness and understanding, she wonders how things might have differed if she hadn't been so resistant to his help.
Maybe they could have been celebrating four years together, not two months. Maybe he would have gotten her a betrothal necklace by now. But if that were the case, Korra likely wouldn't have established as much of a rapport with Asami. She wouldn't have embraced affection for her, and Asami would never encroach on their relationship in turn. It is strange to think about love being lost, only to open the door for future love – a more expansive, fulfilling love. Loss and gain, two sides of a coin, more deeply intertwined than they first appear.
The news about their relationship has been broken to everyone important, gently and carefully, over these past couple months. Yes, Korra is dating both Asami and Mako. No, those two aren't also dating, thank you for asking.
"We've surrounded ourselves with good people," Asami says when Bolin brings them a fruit-topped cake with sparklers and a candle shaped like the number three. It isn't anybody's birthday, but they are three now, he explains good-naturedly. Maybe he doesn't wholly understand the clarification that Mako and Asami are not an item, since he vaguely knows they've maintained some sort of intimate arrangement. Neither Asami nor Mako push against the idea that they are part of a set now. They both feed Korra bites of cake from their forks, which makes her feel more delighted and loved than anything, as silly as that is.
Some friends are shocked at the news, others incredulous, but no one judges them harshly. There are many laughs, with some embarrassing and inappropriate jokes made at their expense. Many eyes linger on the three of them with curiosity and unspoken questions. Some questions, both invasive and polite, are voiced and answered truthfully or politely deflected.
Wu didn't cry and didn't invite himself to be their fourth. Instead, he seemed exasperated that Korra knew some secrets of love that he clearly did not. At the time, Wu was only stopping by Republic City briefly to meet with President Raiko before his return to Ba Sing Se, but Wu hugged Mako before he left, sighed loudly as if to convey he was heartbroken, and told the ladies to treat his favorite firebender right.
But not everything goes so smoothly. The fog clouding Korra's mind dissipates in an instant, snapping to sudden clarity after an argument with her father. Rage proves to be the quickest method of incinerating all other concerns.
They wanted to tell Korra's parents about her relationships in-person, knowing it may be difficult for them to understand unless it is explained well. The trio hadn't had the opportunity to visit her parents until the Festival, two months into her relationship with Mako, four plus months into her relationship with Asami. Her parents seem accepting until Tonraq cautions Korra to keep it out of the public eye – it could be scandalous, he says, and she doesn't need any more controversy.
She breaks their front door with airbending on her way out.
Mako and Asami follow her, but she feels enraged enough to breathe fire and instructs them to stay. A quick run with Naga will work to clear her head. Naga races to her side without instruction, knowing precisely when she's needed.
When Korra hops onto Naga's back, Asami and Mako are right there with her. They will not be left behind again.
"What's controversial is a father not supporting his daughter," Korra snarls as Naga sets off into a canter. Asami and Mako both sit behind Korra in Naga's saddle, holding on tight, not questioning where they're headed.
"I understand his perspective," Asami says, her fingers squeezing into the fabric of Korra's blue coat as they sway with Naga's bounding steps. "It will be front page news once it leaks. The media will twist our relationship into something it isn't. Probably something perverse."
"I don't care what some lowlife journalist is going to write about us. I wanted the support of my family."
"Your father wasn't telling you to change anything. He just wants less stress for you."
"Less stress? Does he remember how stressed I was before I had you two back in my life? How broken I was without you by my side?"
Naga is told to run, making the frigid air burn their faces all the more. Asami presses her head down against Korra's back, falling as silent as Mako has been.
Minutes later, the polar bear dog finally comes to a stop outside of Katara's home. They all slip down off of Naga and the others let Korra lead the way to her front door.
Before she can knock, Mako scoops Korra into a one-armed embrace. "Always," he tells her, substituting any declarations of love with that word alone, a sentimental phrase rooted in their past, reaffirmed in the present. I'll always love you. "I couldn't care less about what others write. They can send the trashiest articles straight to Wan Shi Tong's library. No amount of sensationalism will change what we have."
Korra recalls their argument in the spirit library, where he voiced his displeasure at the thought of being documented for eternity in a way that wasn't accurate to his person.
Some things change with time, she supposes. Fickle things. The unimportant things.
"Always," her lips brush against his before she kisses him.
When Asami approaches the door, Mako draws her into this hug as well, making both women laugh and groan as he tries to lighten the heavy mood. He's good at making Asami laugh. When they all part, her fingers squeeze against the arm of his coat in silent thanks.
After knocking, they are all welcomed inside to a warm hearth. They kick off their ice-covered boots by the door and settle in around a crackling fire. Katara is glad to see Korra again after almost a year of being apart, and notes that Korra looks healthy and strong, but tired, as though she hasn't been sleeping well.
"Nightmares have been harassing me still," Korra admits. Her sifu is too good at sensing what's wrong.
Katara kneels to sit on the floor beside her. "These things will take time. Tell me what has been bothering you, and I will do everything I can to help."
Mako and Asami warm their hands over the fire, a few paces away, but Korra knows they will be listening to her answer. She's tried being honest with them before about the supposed requirements to open the thought chakra. They know it involves letting go one's earthly tethers, and they are two of her tethers. But her dreams and thoughts continually drift back to the concept that everything is connected – there's a duality to every aspect of this universe, and what should be reality doesn't feel real anymore. How can she describe that without sounding like a crazy person?
"I've managed to open all of my chakras except for the last one," Korra explains. "I know Aang struggled with the thought chakra, too. I've realized some truths about the world, but now it's like I'm knocking at the door to the cosmos and peeking inside. I'm terrified by what I'm seeing, Katara… There's patterns, like everything is connected, and I can't trust that my eyes are telling me the truth. Those thoughts keep waking me."
Katara frowns, studying her face. Maybe this expression is one Tenzin picked up from his mother rather than Aang.
"It is true that Aang did not wish to open his seventh chakra," Katara says. "He was told to leave his love for me behind, and he could not bring himself to do that."
"Tenzin said Aang wasn't able to enter the Avatar state after he refused to open it. I'm afraid to attempt going into the Avatar state, because if I fail…" Korra swallows hard, remembering all of the times she pleaded for Raava to talk to her, just once. "If I fail, it will be just like those years I spent without Raava. Only this time, it will truly be my fault." Korra's face, too flushed from the cold, burns as a hot tear rolls down of its own volition. She waterbends it away angrily. "I can't lose her again."
"This isn't your fault," Katara soothes. Her frail, soft hand reaches out to touch the back of Korra's. "It is absolutely unreasonable for anyone to be forced to give up the ones they love. It is antithetical to the role of Avatar."
That feels true. Korra must love the world and its inhabitants in order to care for them properly, shouldn't she? Maybe with personal connections come biases, but to be devoid of any connection at all stands in direct opposition to the values an Avatar should hold.
"How did Aang overcome this blockage, exactly?"
Katara looks upward to consider for a moment, trying to recall those details.
"Azula struck him in the spine, just here, with lightning," she says, reaching with her other hand to poke Korra in the very center of her back. "In the moment he was struck, he was truly gone from this world, and only spirit water was able to bring him back to life. This injury is what truly sealed his seventh chakra. Only physical manipulation could open it again."
"A hard strike to the back," Korra says, recalling Tenzin's words. "Is… there any way to recreate that sort of forceful opening?"
Asami jerks upright, startled by that thought, while Mako's lips draw into a tight line as he stares into the fire.
"I'm afraid not," Katara says, her voice still soft but her expression discouraging. "I would recommend ending this endeavor before you ever attempt to critically injure yourself. Your body has finally recovered after all this time. Even I cannot fix a severed spinal cord, and I know you would prefer not to utilize a wheelchair indefinitely."
Korra fidgets restlessly as she remembers all of that time spent with Katara at her side. She spent hours every week in that healing pool as Katara tried to mend whatever physical damage she could find. It was excruciatingly slow-going, and for the first six months, Korra could not take more than a couple steps forward, if she could move her body at all. The wheelchair remained a necessity even when things began to get better. Her legs proved too languid, aching and burning, and with all the effort in the world she could not bring herself to keep standing at times.
No, perhaps that isn't an option.
But the worst part about that time was the inability to speak with Raava, even just to confirm she still existed.
"If I stop now, I may lose my connection to the Avatar state. Do you know of anyone else who has managed to open their thought chakra?"
"No, I do not," Katara admits sadly. "I apologize for not knowing much about this subject. I only know what my husband struggled with, long ago."
"You do, Korra," Mako says suddenly. When his eyes finally leave the fire to catch Korra's, his expression is colored with apprehension. "You know someone who has opened theirs."
She bristles at that. Zaheer may have helped her reunite with the spirit world and Raava, and he might have informed her about the existence of chakras, enabling her to become a stronger Avatar. But he also spoke of discarding the love of his life as if she were an old rag.
"I know what Zaheer will say," Korra says sharply. "He will tell me to give you both up. He called love a 'superfluous devotion and distraction'. I would give up anything before I will ever give up you two."
"Even Raava?" Asami asks, though her voice is quiet. Korra is some distance apart from them, but Mako is close, and he rubs a hand across Asami's back to comfort her.
"I told you, nothing comes before you," Korra insists, aggravated at the mere idea. "You both have saved my life in so many ways. I will never forsake either of you. Do not ask that of me."
Katara's gaze drifts between them all, silently observing, and perhaps understanding what lies unsaid.
"Beyond romantic love, it would require giving up love for your parents and friends as well," Katara says. "You would have to remove yourself from not only every person you hold dear, but also emotionally detach yourself from the world."
It's impossible to imagine. So this is Korra's fatal flaw – the objectively positive flaw so great that it was destined to hold her back from achieving this goal. Just as Aang struggled to disconnect his heart and mind from one another, Korra knows she could never do such a thing. Even if she broke up with both Asami and Mako now, she would still love them with the entirety of her being; even with all the rage in her heart directed at her father's current bout of stupidity, she could never imagine a world in which she didn't care about him.
Korra kept the spirit portals open because she loves this world, she loves the spirit world, and wanted to do right by both of them. It was more an action rooted in what felt right, not what was logically the best option. Maybe someone brutally fierce like Kyoshi could have had the willpower to sever ties with her emotions, but that just isn't Korra, who so often acts on will and not wit.
"Forsaking the world is antithetical to being the Avatar," Korra repeats. Enlightenment was never an option, after all.
Her stomach twists at the thought that all of this may have been in vain. She's opened six of seven chakras, yet cannot proceed from here. Even if it means the Avatar state may be inaccessible now.
"I do not know what lies ahead for you," Katara says gently. "But you are smart and strong, and I have faith that you will find your way. Let these concerns flow out from you —"
"Like water," Korra says, knowing her too well. She squeezes Katara's hand in hers, grateful for everything. "Thank you, Katara, for being such a great teacher and friend. I'll figure this out."
Beyond a handful of apologies, Tonraq gives Mako a solid handshake and Asami a warm hug.
When he hugs Korra, his grip is firm, and he doesn't let her go for a long while. "I have nothing against this," her father clarifies. "I just worry about how the big city may mistreat you."
"I've dealt with worse things than newspapers," Korra tells him. She isn't his little girl in need of protection, and she can make her own choices, no matter how controversial they may be.
When they're on the ship home, Korra stands on its rear deck, watching the south pole disappear into the distance.
She's alone for a long while, but soon one of them finds her. A soft body presses into her back, arms wrapping around her waist. She accepts Asami's touch gratefully, finding her forearms with her own and holding Asami close. They're both bundled in too many layers, but this sort of touch is nice, even so.
"Somehow I feel better," Korra tells her, tilting her head to one side when Asami's chin moves to rest on her shoulder. "I think I'll be okay after this."
"Just take things easy," Asami says. "I'm sorry so much has been on your mind. You shouldn't have to choose between love and restoring your powers."
Korra is quiet for a while, looking down at where Asami holds her instead of the stretch of ocean before them.
"It was never a choice," Korra says at last. "I told you before, I will never choose anyone over you. Not the world, not the Avatars, not Raava."
Asami exhales a long sigh.
"Zaheer is a fool," she whispers against Korra's neck.
On that, at least, they agree.
Korra's condition improves over time. The mental haze dissipates, and although troubling dreams linger, they have lessened in frequency. Even when startled awake, she finds solace in the presence of someone by her side. Mako rests peacefully most nights, but Asami has begun to jolt awake as well, quietly haunted by memories of all the things she's seen. Their experiences have tested them deeply, and it's a wonder any of them are able to sleep at all.
At last, Korra is able to commit more time and energy into other parts of her life. As she joins the airbenders in helping rehabilitate their city, restoring some peace of mind to its citizens, Asami and Mako begrudgingly return to their own respective works.
Korra also tries lavabending with Bolin again, with zero success whatsoever. "You gotta be less uptight about it," Bolin suggests, but Korra doesn't think that's what her problem is.
At least with Mako she can pretend she's lightningbending successfully, even as little sparks zip just inches past her fingertips. Asami called her Sparky once, Mako adored the nickname, and now it has unfortunately started to stick every time she fails to generate lightning with any degree of success. That is just further motivation to master the art, really, so no one may mock her prowess.
Korra is able to understand lightning redirection easily enough, since that seems to mimic waterbending in both movement and methodology, redirecting an opponent's energy rather than stifling it. As they practice waterbending forms meant to control fire, she doesn't tell Mako it reminds her of the illusion of separation, too. Even the elements are intrinsically bound to one another, separate yet not at all. They mirror each other and complement each other, even as they stand in stark opposition. His fire has always mirrored her water so well, even as he remains cool under pressure, and her passion seems to burn hotter than his.
It's the beginning of a new year when Korra decides to meet Mako at the police station. It's past nightfall, but he's running behind on paperwork and has to get it done before his current shift can end. Korra sits in his office in a chair across from his desk, admiring the fact that he has his own office at all. Maybe all detectives get one. Maybe he's just a favorite of Lin's.
Beifong knocks once before opening the door to his office and advising, "No closing this when one of your little girlfriends is here, detective."
"Right," Korra says dryly, kicking her feet up onto Mako's wooden desk. She's already not allowed to look over his shoulder because of confidentiality or whatever, and was already told to sit across from him, but she can at least mess with him a little from here.
"Thanks, Chief," Mako says, not bothering to acknowledge the implication that he would ever do something inappropriate in his office. "We'll be out shortly."
"Good to see ya, kid," Beifong says to Korra before drifting away.
Korra spends another twenty minutes just hanging out, playing with some things from his desk, checking her nails, biting her nails. She watches Mako as he continually scribbles, documenting a number of things in great detail apparently.
"Are you good at writing?" she asks. Mako pauses, his eyes pointedly looking from her face down to the paper he's clearly been able to write on. "I mean creative writing. Could you write a book?"
"Not particularly," he says. "You're familiar with my writing style, thanks to my letters. Humor isn't my forte. I'm better at writing factual reports, detailing events accurately like this."
She draws her feet down from his desk finally, to his relief. "Can you write something for me?"
Mako scratches at his head, idly curious. "What do you need?"
"Just a thought… If I'm not able to unlock this chakra, I would like to at least document my journey up to this point," she says. "I want my path, and my way of thinking, laid out in detail so the next Avatar knows what to expect. That is, if they want to reforge the connection to the other Avatars."
His brow furrows. "Won't you be able to tell them? They will be able to speak with you."
"Maybe. But I didn't speak with any Avatars until I was seventeen." She remembers Aang on that cliff's edge, how he restored her bending after Amon had blocked it. She had confessed her love to Mako then. It's such a bittersweet memory, twisted to become more bitter now that Aang has gone from the world. "I want you to be able to hand the next Avatar a step-by-step guide, to make this path easier than it has been for me. This method has been too convoluted to figure out alone."
"Hand them a guide," Mako repeats. He licks his teeth, looking irritated. "You're not dying anytime soon, Korra. Don't even humor the thought."
"I'm not," Korra agrees. She didn't mean to imply that. "But it's an unfortunate reality for the Avatars, and if I'm unable to enter the Avatar state –"
"You don't know that," Mako bites back. "You haven't even tried to."
"I know." She sighs, dropping her head into her hands. "Mako, listen. If –"
"No."
" – If that ever happens, I want you to be their firebending mentor."
He pushes his chair back with a loud squeal. "I don't want to talk about this. Get out before I say something that makes you flip my desk."
"My firebending teacher was an absolute pain in my ass," she continues, ignoring his objections. "But Katara was Aang's wife, and she has always loved me. She didn't just view me as the Avatar. She cared for me, more than anybody, because she sees Aang through me."
That makes him pause. When she lifts her head to look at him again, he's rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"Always," he says before sighing. He scoots his chair forward and picks up his pen. He's silent as he signs off on a few more documents. "You know I would do anything for you, in this life or the next."
Korra doesn't speak as he writes a long paragraph of something. All she can think about is a little earthbender boy or girl, learning how to bend lightning better than she can. He would make sure they mastered it.
After a moment longer, Mako adds, "I'll write a damn book for you, about chakras and temples and libraries. It will be very dry and matter-of-fact."
"Perfect."
Korra stands then and allows herself to approach his desk. Her eyes flit to the open doorway.
Seeming to know what she wants, he scoots his chair back silently this time, rotating so she can sit on his lap.
"Will you do something for me?" Mako asks when she sits down on one of his legs, pretending this is not at all inappropriate. But appropriateness is thrown out of the window when one of his hands rests high on her thigh, the other curling around her hip to hold her in place. "If you don't want to speak with Zaheer, that's fine. But I would like to."
Korra quirks an eyebrow at him. "You? Have you ever said a word to him?"
"I very much wished to," he says. "I don't think you realized how furious I was, watching him in the spirit world, looking that smug. As if he didn't nearly take you from us. As if you haven't suffered for years because of what he did. I have tried very hard to hold my tongue."
Korra leans into him, letting one arm wrap around his shoulders. He's kind of cute like this, when his irritation is directed at a common enemy. "Oh, I'm scared. Are you gonna curse him out?"
His eyes linger on the way her lips are curled into a smile. "I would like to find further answers for you, about the final chakra. If there's anything more we can find out, before burning that bridge…"
"We can try to interrogate him, sure."
It's an amusing thought, and she considers whether it would be better to harass Zaheer in person, or in the spirit world. They can't hurt each other either way, beyond throwing insults and words that may ring too true. She leans forward and kisses Mako's lips, just chastely because he is at work, and she's already crossing a line by using him as a chair while he's on the clock. "You know Asami won't be left behind if we take another excursion to the spirit world."
"Of course," Mako says, giving a nice squeeze to Korra's hip. "I wouldn't dream of going anywhere without her."