Letters.

Title: Letters

Rating: T

Word Count - 2,400 words

Notes: Before she leaves, Korra left behind some letters. Mako deals with her absence. (I wanted to write something a bit deeper, what do you think?)

—

Without a word, Korra leaves everything behind. Everything. All of her clothes and worldly belongings, Naga, her hair. Katara finds the long, tangled strands in a messy heap on the floor, the knife responsible lying on the counter.

Apparently, she also left behind letters. They come in a neat parcel, one day, bundled with a light blue ribbon (too similar to the color of her eyes, he thinks) and Tenzin solemnly sorts them, handing them over one by one. Mako feels uncomfortable, like the Airbending Master is reading the Avatar's last Will and Testament. She's not dead, she's just…not here.

Bolin instantly tears his open, sobbing quietly as Pabu nuzzles his cheek. Asami's letter is thickest of the three and she slits her envelope open with cold precision, reading the words quickly before neatly folding the parchment in quarters. She sighs, her eyes sad but understanding, as she gently tucks the paper into her jacket.

Mako doesn't open his, yet. He has no idea what Korra would want him to know, and he's not sure if he could handle knowing…especially in front of the others.

No one questions—and no one asks. They all nod and go their separate ways. Everyone has a different way to cope.

—

Bolin throws himself into…life. He decides that he can't stand the city anymore, and he joins Opal on the crime-fighting adventures of the Air Benders. Mako figured he'd be happier that way—Bolin had a need for always being in a perpetual state of motion. Bo and Opal make sure to stop by for lunch every time they're in the city.

Asami, on the other hand, would never be able to leave the city—she's a city girl, through and through. Mako discovers that the two of them deal with it the same way—by throwing themselves into work. Asami spends long days at her desk, relentlessly researching business proposals, reviewing plans. Mako has to remind her to take a break every now and then, she always smiles and promises that she will, but he knows that as soon as she strolls away from their weekly coffee shop meeting, she disappears back into her office.

Not that he was any better. Cases, cases, cases, all Mako ever thought about were his cases. He liked it that way—it drowned out all of the other feelings that he had and didn't want to feel. Cases. He fills his life with manila folders, coffee-stained sheets of paper, new emblems for his uniform. A year after she's gone, not that he's counting, Mako eventually makes it to Lieutenant. Bolin is away with Opal so he couldn't make it to the promotion ceremony—Tenzin pins on his gold bars, instead. Asami smiles and takes pictures.

—

The sudden rush of blood to his head always shocks him, making his temples throb. He has a bad habit of sitting straight up after he wakes from a nightmare.

They always vary but sometimes, Korra is there—her head is trapped in a violent ball of turbulence that makes her hair swirl around her head like noodles cooking in a pot. No matter what Mako tries, his legs feel like they're stuck in the mud and he never makes it to her in time…eventually her body drops like a rock and the world fades to black. He wakes up gasping for air.

—

"I think you'd like her," says Asami, "She's very good with details. And she's cute!" They are the coffee shop, as usual. Asami is drinking a latte but Mako's coffee is black. He prefers the strong, bitter taste.

"…Yeah," says Mako, half-heartedly, fiddling with his cuff-links. He doesn't want to talk about Asami's assistant, no matter how great with details she is.

"Oh come on, just give it a try. One date and I'll leave you alone," she pleads.

"C'mon Asami, enough, I don't want to go on any—"

"I'll throw in the latest Sato-cycle. It's got double the horsepower of the last one. And it handles like a dream. You're going to love it."

"…" Mako narrows his eyes. "…Fine. Once, and that's it."

Asami's hand shoots out, her hand vigorously shaking his before he knows it. "Great! It's a deal."

—

Mika is blond, she's an earthbender, and Asami was right—she is amazing with details. Apparently she was a Pro-Bending fan also, they are discussing the old Fire Ferrets record on the way home from dinner.

"And the way you and Bolin teamed up with that spin-plate combo? Hooking the plate behind a spinning pillar of fire? Ingenious," she gushes. Mako can tell from her expression that she's genuine and he's rather surprised to find that he's not having that bad of a time.

"Thanks, that one was all Bolin," he says modestly, self consciously running his fingers through his hair. He was thinking of growing it out a little but he wasn't sure.

Mika stops. "This is me," she says, grinning shyly as she nods toward a little quaint, green door. "Thanks for dinner, I had a good time tonight."

"Yeah, I did too," says Mako, mentally floundering for a way to create distance. He sticks his hand out.

Before he can react, Mika slides herself closer, and she's kissing him—really kissing him. He's too startled to do anything, at first, and his mouth opening in surprise has the unexpected side-effect of encouraging his date. The feel of her tongue is jarring and unwelcome in his mouth. For some unpleasant reason, he tastes the unmistakable flavor of cabbages.

"Wa—" he gasps, immediately grabbing Mika by the shoulders and holding her at arms length. She's confused and then angry as he rattles some lame excuse, turns on his heel, and runs for dear life.

He's not sure if any number of Sato-cycles was worth that. As he sprints home (with an extremely important need to brush his teeth), a little part of him remembers that he actually does like kissing…firm ones mixed with soft ones, coupled with strikingly blue eyes that crinkle in the corners when she bites his lips.

—

Mako opens his eyes. The clock on his nightstand is sitting in a pillar of moonlight that's streaming through his window. It's two in the morning.

He groans as he sits up, cursing the Spirits for waking him up at this ungodly hour—he has a long day ahead of him and was really hoping for a good night's rest.

Suddenly, he feels long fingers running their hands up and down his back, beckoning him back to the warmth of the covers. He grabs one, kissing her fingertips, trailing his lips up her arms, over her shoulders and neck, until he's nibbling at the delicate skin of her earlobe. She giggles, pulling him closer. "Come to bed, silly, it's too early to get up." Her voice is low and husky, from sleep. The scent of her hair vaguely reminds him of the ocean.

He silently slides an arm under her, throwing the covers over them both with the other. He feels her fingers again, combing through his hair, running along his jawline that's a bit rough with stubble, sliding her the pad of her slightly calloused thumb over his cheek. In return, he brushes a strand of long, silky hair over her ear, his hand finding a comfortable spot to rest in the curve of her waist.

He slides closer, placing a neat kiss on her lips as she mumbles something appreciative. With this, he finally closes his eyes.

"Good night, Mako," she says, sleepily.

"Sweet dreams, Korra."

—

Mako blinks as the sunlight hits the delicate skin of his eyelids, turning his vision orange.

He gets up slowly, not wanting to disturb his partner…but the sheets on the other side of the bed are cold and undisturbed. She was never there.

Mako finds that he feels the most well-rested in weeks.

—

It's a year and a half since Korra has gone; he, Asami, and Bolin are strolling through the park that has been newly deemed, 'Avatar Korra Park.' They stop at the place where they'll be placing the statue—a gigantic representation of the Avatar. Mako doesn't mention it, but he notices that the statue is directly next to a tree where he and said Avatar (plus her giant polar bear-dog) had spent the night.

The three of them have liquid courage coursing through their veins, which also causes them to stumble and switch between ridiculous laughter and depressing solemnity within moments.

Asami suddenly stands in the middle of the giant stone circle, and does her best Korra pose—both arms up, flexing her biceps, wearing Korra's tell-tale cheesy grin. Not to be outdone, Bolin shoulders her out of the way. He places one hand on his hip, the other hand outstretched, a finger pointed at Mako. "Mako," he says, in a high-pitched voice, "What the hell did you do to your hair?" He and Asami burst out laughing while Mako frowns, ensuring his new cut is still smooth. It actually took a lot of effort to wrangle his hair into place—the front half was determined to stick up.

"No really, that's what she'd say," says Bolin, clutching his side as he perches on the edge of the pedestal.

Asami comes to join him, dangling her feet off of the side. She kicks her expensive flats off, and watches blankly as they thud onto the pavement below. "She told me to live. To be confident, to be strong, because I could do great things," she says, suddenly. Quietly. The tone of the mood has instantly sobered.

Bolin thinks for a moment. "My letter said…to never lie to Opal. To watch my left side when I'm bending, that's where I'm always unbalanced. And to keep an eye on Mako."

A minute passes in silence before Bolin presses, "Bro, what did she write in yours?"

Mako, who had been sitting at the base of the statue pedestal the entire time, just shrugs. "I dunno. I haven't opened it yet."

Neither Asami and Bolin say anything as he continues to stare out over the pond, but he feels two different hands on each of his shoulders.

—

The date that they reveal the finished statue also marks the second year that Korra has been gone. Mako finds this coincidence slightly irritating, but he tries to look pleasant as he stands with the crowd. Jinora and Kai are to his right and he never noticed how much the young Airbending Master's hair has grown out, until now. It's a little past her shoulders, in a long, blunt bob. Since shaving her head for the tattoos, Jinora's hair has grown back darker. He thinks it suits her well.

His thoughts are interrupted as the heavy blue drapes are ripped down—and there is Korra. She's got to be at least 20 feet tall, one foot propped up on the landscape and her hands hanging purposely to her side. Her face is serene but her expression is one of wisdom. She looks like everything the Avatar is supposed to be, and he claps when everyone else does.

After the crowd slowly trickles away, Mako stays. He's sitting under a tree (their tree?) with his elbows resting on his knees. He feels a bit of a draft and suddenly, Jinora is there. The rest of her family has gone, it's just her. She settles down gracefully next to him.

"So, what do you think of Avatar Korra's statue?"

"It's nice. Looks just like her."

Jinora cocks her head to the side. "…but?" He's discovered that she is an expert at decoding his guarded sentences.

"…it doesn't look like Korra, the person. Korra, the real Korra, would have been smiling. That stupid half smile that she does when she's really in awe of something, like the stars at night, or the city lights. Or a bending match," he explains. Jinora begins to smile, encourage him to go on. "Her posture would be way more relaxed. Not that she slouches, but she's definitely not that stiff. And, I don't know…her eyes. When she's happy, they turn up, just slightly."

He stops, because the smile on Jinora's face is so knowing—she looks way older than her years. "Exactly," she answers, "Exactly."

—

That evening, just about ready to go to bed, Mako stands in front of his dresser. He's very unsure of what he's about to do, so he rips the drawer open before he has enough time to think about it and regret his actions.

With the tips of his fingers heated ever so slightly, he burns the side-edge of the envelope open, hastily pulling out the folded sheet within.

Slowly, he moves over until he's standing in the moonlight. He knows he's imagining things but its as if he can feel the fingertips of the Korra from his dreams ghosting over his shoulders, beckoning him to sleep.

He can't, yet, because it's finally time to know.

Mako's heartbeat thuds in his ears as he unfolds the paper, and as he reads her writing, he snorts once, his lips turned into a faint smile.

Gently, lovingly, places the sheet down on his kitchen table as he trudges off to the warm embrace of his bed, shaking his head the entire time.

Mako laughs to himself before he surrenders to sleep, feeling the slightest pressure on his lips, that he should have known. He should have known exactly what her letter would have said because it would have been the same thing he would have written to her—a single line.

Always.