a/n: sorry for the delay, life got in the way, but it's here now. and after looking at my outline, i've realized that i have one more chapter left to write... so this is the penultimate chapter. enjoy!

Ajna

I don't know where to start, Korra says, and Senna answers: from the beginning. Tell me everything.

So she does, long into the night, sprawled on the bed with the phone propped against her jaw. Her friends drop off to sleep as she talks (Asami curled in the armchair, lamplight caught in her glossy hair; Mako scowling into the crook of his elbow on the other side of the bed, and Bolin flat on the carpet, his snores polite and low) but Korra is wide awake, her mood soaring higher with every word Senna says. And then what, Korra? A voice as steady as a waterfall, her strength tumbling over the syllables; it could wear down stone.

Korra's own voice flows out of her in an endless rush of words.

"I spent all day training with Tenzin, practicing airbending. I couldn't do it before but now I can, I figured it out - and I don't really know any waterbending, but Katara taught me some healing," Korra says, holding her hand over her head, imagining the shining blue glow rippling around it. Then she nervously presses her tongue against her teeth. "Um, Senna? Was my real - was my father a waterbender?"

"Oh yes," Senna says, without hesitation. "Tonraq was a real talent. He was a little upset when you started firebending."

"Wait, why?" Korra says. Senna laughs into the phone, a clear, untainted sound.

"Because you loved it, even more than waterbending. I think he was just jealous - we were always taking you outside to play in the snow, so you wouldn't set anything on fire in the house - you burned your toys, your blanket, the rugs... I'd look over and see you playing with fire in your hand. Like it was a pet you'd found."

Korra smiles. She remembers that, vaguely - watching little flames dance in her cupped hands, letting fire flow into her blood hot and singing, and finding a second heart beating inside the first, sunlight pulsing through her body. She remembers another thing, too: Noatak's hand around her wrist, don't ever do that again, his anger leaving bruises the color of smoke on her skin. But even he couldn't make that feeling go away…

She glances at Mako's sleeping form and and runs her free hand down his arm. His muscles still feel full of strength. He stirs at her touch, murmurs mmh?, and goes still. They're so far away from that hallway in the warehouse, on the night of the rally. Somehow, she brought that feeling back to him.

"Mako's teaching me firebending," Korra says. "But I can't wait to start waterbending with a real teacher. Dad tried to teach me some forms, we went to the beach and everything, but I didn't - I couldn't!"

"You mean Amon," Senna says anxiously.

"Oh," Korra says, with guilt flooding through her. "Yeah. Noatak. It's just that I..."

Her memory of waterbending on the beach at dawn forms a thick, choking knot in her throat. Senna waits, silent and patient. She seems ready to wait forever. Korra runs a hand through her hair and closes her eyes. Her own mother is a stranger to her, a voice with a face cobbled together from dreamy scraps of feeling. If only she could make the distance vanish, crumple the stretch of years and oceans between her hands and toss it all away. Leave nothing between them.

"I tried so hard," Korra whispers.

"Korra," Senna says, and the sound grows in Korra like a flame, bright and alive. So few people have ever called her by her real name. "Korra, you'll never have to try again."

Korra's chest starts to ache with the strain of holding it back, her face growing hot. What a nice thing to say - what a nice thing to believe - she inhales and lets out a sigh as tears roll down her cheeks with sharp, searing heat. Somehow Senna's words hurt more than anything else she's said. Korra hates that she needs to be reassured, hates Noatak for doing this to her; shaking with tears in the middle of the night, cradling the phone to her face because all she wants to do is trust her mother…

The cool weight of the receiver in her hand becomes almost unbearable. Noatak took so much.

"When are you coming home?" Senna says. Korra chews on the knuckle of her thumb.

"I don't even know if they're filing charges against me yet. I'm still under house arrest on the island. And I - I did a lot of bad things, I helped him do so many things…"

Senna makes a scathing noise. "They can't. I won't let them."

"I can't wait to see you," Korra says.

"Me neither," Senna says.

For a fleeting moment Korra can almost see her mother's smile, an image born from a formless emotion, something calm and pleasant and untouched by violence. She breathes out her last sob and clangs the receiver back onto the cradle, her body closing like a fist, restraining every yearning heartbeat.

The bed springs creak underneath her as Mako jerks awake with a shallow gasp, caught in a brief panic. It must have been the sound of the phone. He props himself up on his elbow, blinking at his surroundings, tension easing from his body. Hastily, Korra sits up and wipes her face with the cuff of her sleeve, but Mako notices anyway.

"Hey," he whispers. "What's wrong?"

He crawls his fingers across the blanket towards her hand. His hair is sticking out in short misdirected bursts so she reaches out and strokes it into place with her fingers, relishing the way he enjoys it: head swaying back, eyes closed, smiling faintly. He's okay. She rests her hand on his cheek, lingering. Thoughts of Senna run ceaselessly through Korra's mind - she burned the rug and Senna laughs about it.

"My mom survived," Korra says. "So will I."

"I don't doubt it for a second," Mako says, looking at her, the gold in his eyes softer than candlelight.

He turns his head at the sound of Bolin's light snore. "We can't let them sleep like that."

Mako rolls off the bed and wakes first Asami, then Bolin, with gentle nudges. Bolin flashes Korra a sheepish, sleepy grin and leaves, balancing Pabu on his shoulder. Asami gives her a hug.

"I'm so happy for you," she says, with total sincerity, and Korra thanks her with a small smile. Asami has no long-lost mother waiting for her, but everything Korra can think of saying sounds too much like pity. So she says nothing.

Asami leaves, closing the door behind her. Mako wordlessly drapes an arm around Korra and brings her down onto the bed with him. She curls towards him, her head tilted into his collarbone, listening to the deep, slow cadence of his breathing as he falls back asleep. She lies awake a while longer, memorizing the shape of his hands with hers, trying to unearth the details of her mother's face... things she'd buried long ago, to keep them safe.

In the morning, Katara gives Korra a photograph, yellowed with age. In the photograph is a family - her family. A broad-shouldered man with a face drawn in bold strokes, holding himself with a confidence that speaks to strength without cruelty. In his muscled arms, a small girl just barely more than a toddler, beaming, her hair in scrubby tails. And next to them, a short, sturdy woman. Noatak was right. Korra looks just like her mother.

Korra turns the photograph over to find handwriting, a neat column of characters. Tonraq, Senna, & Korra, on her 3rd birthday. She reads the date and realizes, with a strange jolt, that every birthday she ever celebrated was on the wrong day. Noatak made it up. She's four months older than she thought she was.

"Senna gave that to me before I left the South Pole, when I told her we might've found you," Katara says, from across the kitchen table. "She wanted me to give it to you."

"Is this the only one?" Korra says, touching Tonraq's face with her fingertips, wanting to push through the surface of the photograph, sink her hand through time to touch him for real.

"No. She has others," Katara says, and Korra nods. The feeling is bittersweet. What kind of life would she have if Noatak hadn't stolen her from her parents? What kind of family? She'll never know. It's just another daydream, a maybe, and more than sadness Korra feels anger. The only family she knows is Noatak's farce. She would rip each memory from her mind if she could, feed them into another fire and let them turn to ash, but memories don't burn as easily as things.

There's a knock on the doorframe. It's Bei Fong, her usual scowl firmly in place. Korra gives her an apprehensive look as she brushes past the door curtains and sits down with a heavy clank.

"Morning, Katara, Avatar Korra," Bei Fong says, leaning forward with her hands clasped on the table, and Korra slouches in resignation.

"I'll answer any question you want, but can I at least finish my breakfast first? I don't want the flavor ruined."

Bei Fong snorts.

"Keep mouthing off and I'll handcuff you to a sabertooth moose lion," she says. "Although you'd probably pick a fight with that, too. Anyway, Tenzin told me you want to join the task force - no, I'm not here to bring you on the task force."

Korra's spark of excitement snuffs out and she slouches even lower. Bei Fong gives her a slight smirk.

"But there's no reason for me not to pick your brain. You know Amon - Noatak the best. You know what his plans might be. And despite all the information you and Miss Sato gave us, we simply do not have enough officers to deal with everything and keep the peace. We've only hit nine of the addresses you gave us, and we're still cleaning up after the riots. With every Equalist we arrest, a dozen new ones pop up, half of them wearing Sato's damn gloves."

She pauses, fitting Korra with a narrow look. "And that is because the Avatar came out of hiding, took down a champion pro-bending team by herself, and announced her full support of the Equalist revolution."

"He used me. I won't apologize for that," Korra snaps, heat rising in her face.

"Don't," Bei Fong says. "I just wanted you to understand. Now, knowing what you know, what…"

She heaves a sigh, with a somewhat resentful expression, as though she can't believe what she's asking.

"…what do you think?"

Korra bites her lip, glancing down at the photograph and tapping the tips of her thumbs together. Thinking. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Katara, patiently watching her, and remembers something.

"Well, I don't think he doesn't know where I am," Korra says. "He always has people watching this place. It might even be wire-tapped - "

Korra stops, her throat clenching with the sudden urge to vomit. He ordered that months ago. So he might've listened to her phone call with Senna. He might've heard heard her cry on the phone, every word of longing that passed between them… the thought fills her with rage, at Noatak and herself. He took so much already - and she was dumb enough to forget, and let him have even more.

Abruptly she slams both fists onto the table, making all the cups jump.

"I forgot," she seethes, in response to their startled looks. "I'm so fucking stupid! I forgot about that!"

"That's alright. We'll let Tenzin know. And he won't be angry," Katara says gently, putting a hand on her shoulder, and Korra forces herself to relax. Bei Fong frowns.

"I'll conduct a sweep, see what we can find, and beef up security. But if that's the case, it begs the question - why hasn't Noatak come after you? It's been several days since I brought you here."

Korra grits her teeth. "It… I hurt him when I left."

"You mean physically?" Bei Fong asks.

Korra shakes her head. Noatak begged her to stay, half drunk and desperate for her promises, and she didn't. He's probably hiding somewhere in the city, still bleeding freely from the place where she ripped herself away from him… what is he doing without her, the only person who really knows him? How much did she take from him when she left?

Suffering, she hopes. Everything.

Bei Fong and Katara exchange swift, unreadable glances. Korra reminds herself of another person who didn't stay.

"Have you found Hiroshi Sato?" she says.

"No. He's disappeared," Bei Fong says, and Korra makes a mental note to tell Asami.

She returns to the photograph, idly tracing her parents with her fingertip. Noatak was never going to tell her the truth about them, she knows that well enough… every lie he told a knot, tying her up in misery and guilt. Korra glances out the window, towards the city across the harbor. It will never know peace in the strength of his grip, the sound of his voice; and it was her voice that had tipped the balance in his favor... Maybe she just needed to speak up again.

"I have an idea," she says. "I think I know how to undo this. Put me on the radio."

Bei Fong makes the call. Korra is cleaning off the last of her breakfast when Tarrlok marches into the kitchen, his expression as stiff as ice on a lake. He's arrived surprisingly fast.

"You said it was urgent," he says, turning to Bei Fong, and she motions to Korra.

"The girl wants to go on the radio. She wants you to go on the radio with her, and says that's the only way this will work," Bei Fong says, taking a sip of her tea. Korra lays her chopsticks across her bowl as Tarrlok fixes her with a brief, flinty look; she returns it with equal sharpness. Yesterday's argument rises to the surface, on a wave of lingering irritation, and she doesn't think he put it aside so easily.

"You're going to listen to her?" Tarrlok says. Bei Fong raises her eyebrows, pouring more tea into her cup, a green ribbon of steaming water. She leans back in her chair and considers them, her mouth a hard line of suspicion.

"You tell me, Councilman."

Tarrlok frowns, his face turning even darker. With her nerves twisting Korra stands up and drops her empty bowl into the kitchen sink, rinsing it under the tap. She can't do it without Tarrlok.

"Chief Bei Fong, Katara, could you give us a moment?" she says, flicking water off her hands. "Just a few minutes."

"Of course," Katara says, before Bei Fong can say no, and stands up. With a resentful huff Bei Fong sets down her cup and follows Katara out the door, sliding it shut.

The kitchen is full of soft, thin light, with threads of steam rising from Bei Fong's abandoned cup of tea. But an unsettling sense of familiarity crawls up Korra's skin. Tarrlok brings storms with him just as much as Noatak does, and she can feel them threatening to break in the way he looks at her, can feel him struggling to contain them. (That, probably, is the difference.)

Abruptly Tarrlok pulls out a chair, the wood scraping loudly against the floor, and sits, crossing his legs with his hands clasped around his knee. His demeanor has its usual touch of haughtiness.

"About yesterday," Korra starts, resting against the sink and folding her arms. She licks her lips thoughtfully, wondering how to do this, shoving the remnants of her anger with him to the back of her mind. "You said Noatak wasn't my concern anymore. That I shouldn't burden myself with his mistakes."

"I did," he says shortly.

"You're wrong," she says. "It's our concern. Yours and mine. Everything he does depends on the lies he's told. We're the only ones who know who he really is, and that means we're the only ones who can stop him."

Tarrlok exhales forcefully through his nose, brows furrowing together in thought.

"'Our concern.' Are we family now, Avatar Korra?" His voice has a harsh, sardonic edge. Korra ignores it.

"I don't know. Maybe."

Tarrlok says nothing.

"I want to get on the radio and tell everyone the truth about Noatak. But I can't do that unless you do too," Korra says. "I need you, Councilman, to back me up. No one will believe me if I just get on the radio and take back everything I said at the arena. People might think I was forced to say it."

"So... you want me to tell the world that I'm a bloodbender," Tarrlok says, with barely restrained disgust. She nods once.

"They could arrest me. I could lose my freedom. I could lose my position. I could lose everything I've ever worked for," he says, "including leaving all of that in the past."

"But it's not in the past, Tarrlok. It's right now," Korra says. "And they can't arrest you just for being a bloodbender. Aside from me, you haven't used it, right?"

He falls quiet again. She watches how his hands stiffen, how his face tightens, and she steels herself to wait, ready to give him all the time in the world. It's so easy for her to imagine Noatak, almost as though he were here with them in the kitchen: leaning against the stove, his mask pushed up to the top of his head and his scar make-up tracked with sweat, silent and content to watch them shatter themselves.

"Noatak is my brother, and for all intents and purposes, your father," Tarrlok says. He turns his head, gazing out the window, seemingly unable to look at her. In the white light of morning his eyes are pale blue. Something in him wavers, as slight as a drop of water falling into a pond. Korra swallows, determined to be resolute.

He looks back at her, again hard and unyielding. "Is there any hope left for him? If we defeat Amon?"

Something about the way he asks makes Korra think he's testing her.

"No," Korra says carefully. "To think Noatak and Amon are separate people… you can't. They're the same person. My father is the same person who hurt me, my friends, my real family. I thought there was a difference - I wanted to believe it - and I was wrong."

Tarrlok closes his eyes as she speaks, going rigid, every line of his body locked up in despair. He knows that, just as much as she does.

"Our father's been dead for years," he says bitterly. "And we still can't escape him."

When he opens his eyes they're full of pleading, almost helpless. Korra slowly crosses the kitchen, kneeling on one leg before him. For a brief instant she wonders if she could touch him, and settles instead for resting her hands on her own knee. She tilts her head, looking into his face, but he avoids her eyes.

"Yesterday night, I called Noatak 'Dad' to my own mother. Being his daughter - a criminal and a terrorist, Tenchu - is part of who I am. I don't want it to be, but it is. And being a bloodbender, Yakone's son, is part of who you are, no matter how much you try to hide that. But that's not all we are, Tarrlok. We're so much more than just our pain and suffering and hatred. We deserve better than what they gave us. We can do better than what they wanted us to do. We can be better."

At last Tarrlok looks at her. "You actually believe that."

Korra thinks of Mako, and Asami and Bolin; Tenzin, Katara, Jinora and her mother. Maybe even Bei Fong. And Aang, a lingering trace of light… they all believed it…

"Yeah, I do," she says, smiling. "And I think, deep down inside, you do, too. Would you have kept me off the task force if you didn't?"

She can see him testing the thought in his mind, with the uneasy hesitance of a stray, forgotten animal. She waits motionless as he breaks eye contact, his gaze dropping to the floor. A muscle clenches in his jaw as he works up the nerve to believe her, maybe even hope for himself…

"I need some time," he says, covering his face with his hand. "Leave me."

Korra stands up, briefly grips his shoulder, and leaves him in the kitchen. Katara and Bei Fong are at the end of the hallway, talking in low voices, and she asks them to wait a little longer. He's already decided, she knows that, but she has to give him space for grief. Secrets, regret, shame; all of them have to be torn out like splinters, and only he can do it.

But it'll take time, so Korra sets off to find Mako and finds him reading in his bedroom. When she takes his hand his shy half-smile sends a brief, giddy warmth flaring through her, and they walk hand-in-hand through the cathedral silence of the island. Somewhere a brass gong rings the hour, the chime solemn and echoing, and without saying anything they seem to decide on the gazebo over the cliffs. Mako and Korra lean over the railing to watch the surf, the grey-green waters foaming white and breaking apart, over and over, in rhythm across the rocks.

He goes to the pathway and comes back with a handful of pebbles, dropping one into Korra's palm.

"Bolin and I had a game to see who could hit that rock sticking out of the water. That pointy one," he says, and Korra grins.

"Easy!"

She whips the pebble out over the cliffs. It soars and disappears into the waves, gulped by the water a few feet shy of the rock. Korra wrinkles her nose and takes another pebble from Mako's hand. Again she misses, this time by half the distance. And the third time.

"Rocky performance," Mako says wryly, and Korra rolls her eyes with a smile.

"Fine. This time. Watch," she says, hefting another pebble in her hand, aiming with one eye shut - then she stops, sets it on the railing, and bends it into the air with a quick motion of her fist, sending it flying. It chips off the rock with a distant clap of stone against stone, splashing into the ocean. Korra fixes Mako with a triumphant smirk.

"I won! What's my prize?"

"Um… satisfaction?" Mako says. "A handful of gravel. I got nothing."

"Dumbass," Korra laughs. "Come here, I know what I want."

She grabs his collar in one hand and wraps her other arm around his neck, bringing him down for a kiss. His lips are cool and eager and sweet. He tosses the gravel aside, kissing her back with an intensity that makes her blush.

"Give me one of those hugs, hotman, I'm cold," Korra says, when they come apart. She puts her hands on his front as Mako happily wraps his arms around her, enveloping her in warmth. Korra closes her eyes, resting her head against his chest.

"You okay? How're you doing?" she says, just to check, her voice muffled in his coat; Mako sighs peacefully into her hair.

"I'm fine," he says. "I'm safe. I'm fed. I have a place to sleep. And the people I care about - they're good too."

"Is that really all it takes?"

"No. But everything else comes after that," Mako says. "Are you okay?"

In the quiet that follows Korra can hear his heartbeat (or maybe it's hers) and the distant thunder of waves on the cliffs below. She wants to stay here, right here, for as long as she can. For the first time in her life, Korra does not want to be someone else.

"Yeah," she says, smiling. "I am."

They stay there in the gazebo, every second slowing down and drifting by with the gentle ease of leaves on a current. The moment starts to fracture at the sound of footsteps on the gravel. But Korra doesn't let go until they're close enough that she can hear Bei Fong's short, disinterested hm, and Tarrlok's polite cough. Then she lifts her head, pulling away from Mako to face them.

"So?" she says. "Did you tell them?"

Tarrlok doesn't hesitate.

"Yes. They know. I'll do it."

Korra spends the rest of the day in Tenzin's study, letting the hours flow by. She writes, interrupted only once by Katara, with a bowl of egg-drop soup.

And when she's done writing, she leans back in her chair and waits, watching the light change on the walls. Every so often she re-reads what she wrote, scratching out a line, changing a word from this to that, black ink staining her fingertips.

When there's nothing left to fix, she gets up and goes to the window, letting the cool sea breeze wash over her face. From her seat at Tenzin's desk she saw maybe a dozen police officers arrive mid-afternoon, some of the task force too, and all of them suited head-to-toe in uniformed armor. Bei Fong's doing. Now the veranda is peaceful and empty.

Republic City sprawls around the harbor in a haze of gold winter light, the snow on the mountains glowing with the start of sunset, and something in Korra overflows with love for the city. It looks beautiful, gilded and still, and she wants to preserve all of it in glass just like that: all the smog-ridden metro stations, the clotheslines sagging with gem-colored linens. The street musicians, playing for the rattle of yuans in a tin cup. The smell of charred skewers of food, passing from hand to hungry hand, and the thick black cough from the exhaust of a Satomobile. She could never see it destroyed.

Someone knocks on the door. "Korra?"

"Come in," she calls back, and it's Tenzin. He squints furtively at her papers, too interested to look away but too polite to ask. Korra darts back to the desk. She gathers them up, aligns them with two neat taps on the wood, and presses them into his hands. "Go ahead. You can read it."

She sits on the edge of the desk, gazing out the window while he reads.

"Korra…" he says, after a few minutes, "this is…"

"It's all of it," Korra says. "The whole story. From the moment he kidnapped me to the minute I got here. I wasn't sure how much I wanted to say, but then I figured I should say everything, even the things that hurt the most to say, because this isn't about me. It's about ending this, and telling the truth is the only wa - "

She stops as Tenzin puts one hand on her shoulder, looking somewhat at a loss for words, a touch of sadness playing at the corners of his smile.

"It is about you," he says finally. "You're doing a very brave thing. I'm proud of you, Korra."

Korra gives a short little laugh of surprise.

"Well, I just - I just thought, I want to do the right thing, so I... "

She chokes on the words, swept up in a wave of gratitude, and hugs him, the papers crinkling between them. A soft oh! escapes him but he hugs her back, gentle and earnest, his beard tickling the side of her face.

"I can't tell you how happy I am that you're here," he says, and she nods, beaming. "Are you ready to go? Councilman Tarrlok and Lin are waiting at the police station. I'll take you by air bison."

"Yeah," Korra says, "let's go."

She tucks her speech into the front of her coat and throws Mako's scarf around her neck, walking with Tenzin out of the study to the air bison stables. The trip to the station doesn't take long, Oogi's rumbling lows lost to the brisk winds that whistle past them. On the roof Tenzin teaches her how to jump from the saddle with airbending. She softens her landing with a graceful pirouette, air whirling around her in swift white streaks. Across the bay, the statue of Avatar Aang turns grey-pink with the last traces of sunlight.

The police station broadcasting room is a long, grey room with blinking panels on the walls, black cords snaking across the switchboards, and as soon as she enters the room she's hit with attention - every police officer and switchboard operator pausing to look at her, their nervousness tempered only by their curiosity. Automatically her hand goes to her face but there's no mask to adjust so she drops it, staring back at all of them.

Bei Fong, standing beside Tarrlok, waves her over with an impatient gesture, and Tenzin again reaches for her shoulder, but Korra stays put. They shift uncomfortably in their seats, throwing uncertain glances at Bei Fong, and Korra's composure locks into that same old feeling of cold determination.

"You all know who I am," she says, and strides across the room to Tarrlok, throwing herself into the chair next to him. He appears ashen but calm, immaculate; not a single thread out of place. He casts a glance over her wrinkled papers as she slaps them onto the counter, feeling eyes on her back. She doesn't care.

"You didn't write anything down," Korra says, flattening her speech, and his expression turns stony.

"There's no need," he says.

Bei Fong leans over them, her arms crossed. "Councilman, Avatar, whenever you're ready."

Korra adjusts the microphone, tilting the metal head back and forth, until she detaches it from the stand, feeling its familiar weight in her grip. How many speeches has she given? Too many, she thinks, but none like this - a speech that's hers alone, free of the taste of blood and steel, and without Noatak to force her through it.

"Korra, if I may. I'll go first," Tarrlok says, taking the microphone from Korra and waving two fingers at the switchboard operator. The operator touches a hand to her headset and connects a cord to a socket in the wall, listening, and then she gives him a single nod.

He coughs, opens his mouth, and freezes, his eyes hardening as he visibly braces himself, clenching his fist on the counter. His knuckles turn bloodless, veins and bones shifting in his wrist as he grinds his nails into his palm - on impulse Korra closes her hand over his and he shoots her a startled look, almost jerking it away - but after a breathless pause he relaxes, spreading his trembling hand across the counter.

"Do it," she whispers. "This is how it ends."

Tarrlok clears his throat one more time and begins.

"Good evening, Republic City. This is Councilman Tarrlok speaking. I am joined by Avatar Korra, who surrendered to the police on the night of the Probending Championship. The time has come to lift the mask off the face of a man our city knows as Amon - a man the Avatar knows as her father. I, however, once knew him as my older brother. His name is Noatak. Like me, he was born in the Northern Water Tribe, a waterbender of vast skill."

He stops, for a beat of several seconds, as the operator gapes at him.

"We are also both bloodbenders. This all began with our father, a man named Yakone…"

Korra returns with Tenzin to the island, where her friends are waiting for her in the kitchen. For the next several hours, all they do is play pai sho and listen to the radio as Mako makes a late dinner for the four of them. And no matter how many times Asami turns the dial on the radio, jumping from station to station, all they get is the news, in short bursts of words buzzing with static: speeches given by Councilman Tarrlok and Avatar Ko - movement led by a fraud, allegedly a bloodbender - baseless propaganda from untrustworthy benders, undermining the - pockets of Equalist resistance as supporters turn against - resigned from his seat on the Council -

"It's ending," Asami says, sliding a pai sho tile across the board. Several Equalists surrender to the police in Dragon Flats. "You did it."

Korra smiles, fixed on her bamboo steamer full of dumplings. Four buildings burning in the South Bay District, rumored to be secret warehouses set on fire by disillusioned Equalists. Maybe Asami is right; that's what it sounds like. But Korra doesn't want to think about it, choosing instead the warm feeling of Mako's hand on hers under the table, the sight of Asami's vibrant smile, the sound of Bolin's generous laughter. It's all she wants right now, all she needs... And when they finally go to bed, Mako folding his arms around her, Korra realizes Aang hasn't sent her a dream in a long, long time.

A/N: THAT'S IT FOR NOW, LAST CHAPTER IS THE END B)

THANK YOU FOR READING!