Space

All right, so as bad as and even worse than last time. Finally getting into the swing of things. And I may or may not be practicing for nanowrimo which is coming up in less than a month. :D Something that was inspired by a little line of mine: The spaces between my fingers. I think this one is going to be one of my best.

Summary: Mako volunteers to go undercover, and tells Korra the night before he leaves; she tells him she needs space. One month later, she's had more space than she can take.

Disclaimer: Never owned, never will. All belongs to Bryke.

I rest my hand on top of the small, wireless radio. The dusty surface peeks through the empty spaces between my fingers. I frown. That's not right. When's the last time the apartment was dusted? The deal is that I do the dishes, and Mako-

My breath catches in my throat as the police channel crackles with static, sensing my distress.

I breathe deep, drop my chin onto my collarbone, and let it go. I look back down at the empty slots. They're not supposed to be filled with the dull brown of the radio, or the delicate pages of a book. They're meant to be locked with calloused and pale puzzle pieces; the rough gloves scratching at the lines of my palm.

"10-13, requesting immediate back up in Dragonsflat borough, 841 Yung Street. Our cover has been blown, I repeat, our cover has been-"

The radio blows up.

I don't flinch as smoking shrapnel bounces off my clothes. I'm too busy looking down at the obscene amount of electricity I had forced into the small gadget flickering over my fingertips. It gathers in my palm, making my hair stand on end and Naga whimper from her place in the corner. It begs to be sent somewhere, anywhere. I thrust my hand out to the outlet hidden behind the coffee table.

It races down my fingertips and leaps happily into the dark holes. There's a few pops and sparks fly before I'm doused in darkness and unwanted memories.

I had shorted out the electricity that night too. The night that Mako had left. I had waited for him to come home, shrouded in the cold blackness of the apartment. And here I was; still waiting.

The door bangs shut behind Naga and I, wafting out spiced steam riding on a tangy current of air. I bend it back, letting it swirl around me in a playful embrace. "Korra?" Mako calls from the kitchen, poking his head out. His apron's stained with spices and water droplets. His lopsided smile makes my face flush as hot as the pan resting on the stove. Naga simply huffs good naturedly and goes over to her designated corner, flopping down in a mountain of white.

My mouth waters as I feel warmth curl around me, drawing me to the table where a chair is already pulled out invitingly. Mako breezes past me, brushing a kiss on my cheek as he goes. It rises on its own accord despite my weariness incensed by the day's events. Training, long press conferences, restoring bending, and then more training.

"How was your day sweetie?"

I sigh. "Long." I glance at the clock, surprised to see its long hand leisurely stretching towards the six. "You're home early." Mako starts a little at my remark, pausing in his stretch to reach the plates in the top cabinet.

He chuckles, the nervous remnants fading from my memory as he places a bowl of wide green noodles bathing in broth in front of me. I break my chopsticks apart, pinching the noodles between them as Mako pokes at his own portion. "Yeah, Lin thought I deserved a bit of downtime before…"

He trails off as I slurp up the noodles, the tail end bouncing off my nose and into my mouth. "Are these fresh?" I say through a mouth full of seaweed pasta and giggles. This takes me back to blizzard ridden nights, spilled seaweed noodles, and dozens of Katara's stories.

He rubs at the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah. I used to do a bit of cooking for Narook on the side a while back. I learned how to make some water tribe food." I giggle again as I picture a pubescent, gangly Mako with the same apron hanging off of him, ties dragging along the floor.

I lick my lips and stand, reaching for the handle of the ice box. I withdraw a pitcher of lychee juice, swirling the liquid enticingly at Mako, who shakes his head. I slosh some into a glass, smiling. "Oh yeah?" I take a healthy gulp, turning to put the pitcher back. "I bet," I continue, shutting the ice box with a snap. "That you don't know how to make-"

Mako's at the stove again, unveiling a simmering pot that has escaped my notice. "Sea prunes?" He smirks, already spooning a healthy amount into my dish.

I take hold of his shoulder, swinging him around before I kiss him hard on the mouth, being mindful of the pot between us. I pull away, watching smugly as his eyes flutter open, wide and dazed. "Thank you." We stand there for a moment, enveloped in the smell of our home and the warmth of each other.

I break away first, reclaiming my seat. "So," I start again, wielding my chopsticks. I steal one of the prunes out of Mako's bowl, popping it in my mouth. I glance up at him mischievously. My grin fades as I noticed his distant look. "What's the special occasion?" I ask, more serious this time.

He's quiet for a moment, fiddling with his sea prunes. "I'll tell you after dinner." He replies, and quickly shovels in a mouthful of noodles.

I make a point to finish the rest of my bowl without comment and quickly. I pack what's left into containers and store them in the icebox. Mako's still slowly but surely making his way through his serving. I lean my hips back against the counter, tipping my head backwards and blowing out a long breath.

By the time I finish memorizing the exact way the grain flowed around the knots in the wooden ceiling, Mako has finished. He shuffles closer to the sink, and I trace the tired and stressed lines marking his face with my eyes. Although we rarely get home anywhere near each other, I know Beifong's been adamant about Mako proving himself to the rest of the department.

He goes to turn on the facet, but I lay my hand over his, stilling his movements. "I'll do the dishes later," I tell him, and kiss his cheek; even as my heart flutters anxiously at the possibilities of what could be causing him to act this way. I lead him over to the couch, brow creasing as I sit down with him.

I repeat my question. "So what's the occasion?" I pray to the Spirits that he says its 'just because'.

He doesn't.

He takes both of my hands in his. "Beifong's asked me to go undercover."

My heart skips a beat, and jumps into my throat.

I clear my throat, and try to steady my voice. My eyes are rememorizing the wood grain in the ceiling, hoping that it'll take his words' place. "O-okay. For how long? What are you going undercover for?"

"I can't tell you a lot, but I can tell you enough. Beifong's hoping to take down one of the major triads by having us infiltrate them." He puts a hand on my cheek, forcing my eyes back to his. They're wide and pleading and everything that I wish I didn't affect me so. My chest aches. "I don't know how long I'll be gone."

My heart's become too big in my throat, swelling with love, and worry, and hurt, all for this man in front of me. "When do you leave?" My voice has dropped to a whisper.

Mako's become as quiet as he was at dinner. I purse my lips and drop my head to his shoulder. "When do you leave?" I whisper the secret again to his heart, hoping that it'll lock itself inside the walls that he's so good at building around the powerful muscle and never be answered.

"Tomorrow." He murmurs back reluctantly, so softly it was almost as if he had thought it rather than said it.

My heart and emotions goes from zero to fifty in a fraction of a second. Somehow I manage to keep my expression blank. "And when did you find out?" I question. My tone betrays me though, and Mako recognizes it. He remains quiet. "Answer me." Anger swirls through me, eroding at my stomach and the last of my restraint.

"I didn't know how to tell you." He bursts out, desperation shining through his expression. I shove him away in disgust, and send the couch rocking back on its heels.

"How could you not tell me?!" I scream in frustration. I kick the couch and it rams into the wall; the bricks shake in their mortar, and Mako's thrown back into its soft and stained arms. He's certainly not going to be welcome in mine for a while.

"I just did!" He retorts, heaving himself off of the couch.

I scoff. "Great timing. You finally tell me- on the night before you leave!" My hands are clenched, and the pipes shudder in the kitchen, threatening to burst from the pressure.

"Oh, and you always tell me when you decide to go and run all around the city doing spirits knows what." Mako fires back, standing nose to nose with me.

"Well since you seem so eager to go undercover, who am I to stop you?"

Mako takes a step back, the fire leaping from his eyes dimming a bit. His tone is biting, meant to dig deep through old scars and tear into delicate feelings. "You are the Avatar. And as always, what you say is best."

I breathe deep through my nose, feeling his words like a punch in the stomach and a stab in the back. I stalk over to the coat rack near the door, digging deep in the breast pocket where I know he puts his key. I always take it out when we get home from visiting the Arena, or after dinner out, kissing his cheek as I sneak my hand inside.

The key is cold and sharp in my hand, and the words feel the same in my mouth as I spit them at Mako. "Get out. I need space, and obviously this is my opportunity."

He opens the door, and looks back at me. His very being mocks me as he redelivers his last words to me on the first night we met. "It was nice to meet you, Avatar Korra."

Naga whines at me as I stand in the center of the room, shutters banging open and shut, open and shut with each of my panting breaths. The lights are flaring, then dimming, brighter and darker with each passing second.

Nice to meet you, Avatar Korra.

The shutters blow open and the lights pop, one by one.

My heart's torn apart, and I keep playing his words, one by one.

Lin had called me, "requesting", in her most demanding voice, that I be there to help heal officers who had been injured in the skirmish with the triads last night. I know what that means: The press is standing there with her, and I'm not allowed to go home until the muscles in my face are aching from smiling.

I enter the police station, with sleep still in my eyes and Naga stumbling around in a stupor. She collapses near Toph's metal feet, and yawns hugely. Before she's even finished she's asleep.

I can't find enough emotion to be envious of her at the moment. It's still too early.

Reporters shout at me, demanding that I look here, no, no, over there. I part my lips and force my cheeks to lift, but I still feel as if I'm just baring my teeth rather than smiling. Lin takes my arm, gripping at the crease of my elbow. Her regular stoic expression remains on her face. She gets to provide a strong front. I have to provide the reassuring one.

Maybe it's not too early for envy.

Lin leads me to her office, snapping the door shut behind us. With a flick of her fingers, the metal shades are snapped down over her windows looking out into the station.

I study the files and scribbled shorthand lying splayed over her desk, as if I put them together correctly, they would tell me where Mako is.

"You didn't call me down to have me heal officers, did you." It's not a question, but a statement. My voice is quiet, which seems to surprise Lin.

"How are you kid?" Her voice is as steady as the element she bends.

"That depends on how he is."

Lin doesn't need me to specify. She lays her fingers on her temples, threading the tips through her graying hair. Her cool green eyes soften minutely. "I have it on good authority that he's fine." I blow out a long break, and melt into the seat of the chair, muscles limp with relief.

"Was he…" I can't finish the sentence, muscles retightening with worry. "Last night, he wasn't…?"

"No, he wasn't there. The triad boss has seen him bend. He's not going to risk losing him to something as fickle as a run in with the police." Lin's lips twitch into a smirk, making me blink in surprise. "Now do you have a reason to smile?" She questions dryly.

I don't answer her right away, rising from the straight backed chair to reopen the doorway, which is immediately filled with camera flashes. I look back at Lin, who's waiting expectantly. "I'll smile when he comes home." I say finally, and shut the door with a quiet snap.

As I predicted, the muscles in my face ache from overuse. It continues to ache two days of every week. Lin's had me at the police station twice a week, since Mako's been gone. As much for her benefit as mine, I think. She wants to makes sure I don't do anything stupid or rash. She's already caught me nosing through her files on her desk, looking for any information on what Mako's doing undercover. My wrists were red for the rest of the day from the handcuffs she put me in.

Even if the words won't come, I know that I should be grateful to Lin. There's something just so mind numbingly wonderful about the monotony of training new officers; challenging the more experienced ones to sparring matches; getting under Lin's skin any chance I get.

This is safe now. This has become my routine.

But every day, my routine has to come to an end. I'm still left at the apartment- the bricks loose in their mortar, pipes leaking from the strain I've put them through, and the paint coating the shutters cracked and flaking.

I haven't been to Narook's. Or to the Arena to see Bolin and help him train the two newest members of the Future Industries Fire Ferrets. I've hidden the spare key I usually leave beneath the doormat for the friendly earthbender. I can't bear to see his eyes when I tell him what happened right before his brother left. I can't bear to remember it.

I unlock the door, the deadbolt sliding out of place seeming loud in the empty hallway. Naga pants behind me, shifting on her huge white paws. I don't move for a moment. I lay my head against the solid door, closing my eyes and remembering how this night seems exactly like the one a month ago.

Except Mako isn't… might not be…

Tears slide out from behind my closed lids, ignoring my pleas for them to stop, for Mako to come home. My fingers slip from the key still in the lock, and slide to the floor. The thick door mat cushions my heavy fall. Naga's nuzzling does nothing to comfort me or to end my sobs.

I draw in a shallow, shuddering breath, framing my face with my fingers. I stare blankly at the stained red carpeting, looking for the traces of footprints treading over the same places. Some of those footprints belong to Mako.

I can't bear to be in the hall any longer- all I see is Mako walking away determinedly, not looking back. I stumble to my feet and fumbling with the key still waiting in the lock. I hear rather than see the key turn, and I shove my way inside, slamming the door behind me. Naga yelps in surprise, and scampers over to her corner, watching me with worried eyes.

I throw the key in the dish positioned near the door for this exact purpose. It was Mako's-

I can't think, I can't think, I can't think. My hands need to be busy, mind blank. Dust tickles my nose, and makes me sneeze. It's almost as wet and slobbery as Naga's. I clean myself up with tissues, noting how my fingers leave trails through the thin layer of grime on the coffee table. Shoulders thrown back like I'm about to go into a press conference, I march into the kitchen. Banging a few cupboard doors, I find the dusting rag. Immediately I get to work, carefully moving every object and placing it back in its exact place. The process is slow, but takes concentration.

I'm so focused that I don't hear the first knock at the door. Or the second one. The third I ignore, hoping they'll go away. I pause in my task, listening, hoping for their retreat.

Naga huffs a bark. I rush over to her, and press her muzzle closed, imploring her with my eyes to stay quiet.

"Korra?" a raspy, vague voice calls. "Avatar Korra, please, this is important."

Skoochy is definitely not expecting me to open the door in my emotional state. He recoils before regaining his usual smooth, mysterious expression.

"What?" The sound comes out nasally, like if a turtle duck could talk.

"I have a message to deliver to you." He replies, chest puffing up a little. He dangles the paper teasingly, then whips it behind him again as I reach for it. He puts his hand out expectantly. "Although I might have the wrong address. Let me just check my empty and very yuan free pocket." He enunciates the words carefully, as if I had missed the meaning behind them.

My eye twitches. I fish a hand into my pocket, withdrawing a shiny bronze yuan. I snatch the paper away from him. I flip the coin off my thumb with so much force that I catch him right on the tip of his nose.

He rubs it indignantly while he bends down to retrieve the fallen coin. He shoves his hands into his pockets, hunching down with a glower. He stalks away with irritated mutters and mumbled complaints. I bite my lip, looking down at the thin, stained slip of paper before glancing up at his retreating figure.

"Skoochy," I call after him, leaning against the door frame. He turns, glare still present. "Thank you."

He sends me a smug smile, like he knew I would come around to thanking him eventually, and salutes me casually. I shake my head and my lips turn up at the corners. This is the most positive reaction anyone has gotten out of me so far.

I spin on my heel, heading back into the apartment. I lean back against the door, fold the paper between my hands, and tuck them underneath my chin. My heart wants to drum out of my chest, to see what the note says on its own, so I won't have to look. Instead, I force myself to put it in my pocket, not yet ready to let go of the hope that's filled my entire body with light.

As soon as it's out of my sight, the anxiety, the restlessness returns full force. My body's kicked into action, wiping furiously at every surface I can reach in the apartment.

I sweep through the kitchen, breeze into my, and then Mako's bedroom. I end in the living room again. I tug the couch away from the wall, where it had skidded to a stop the night I had shoved it away in a rage.

I study the chipped brick, brushing my fingertips over the rough surface. Pieces flake to the floor, joining their older, dustier brethren. I snag the broom out of the cupboard, and maneuver the bristles behind the couch, dragging the pieces out of their hiding places. I stare blankly at the wall as I continue to sweep absently, forming a neat pile on the floor. I finally look down, and immediately sink to my knees. The couch cushion gives under the grip of my strong and shaking palm.

I pick up the long and ragged scarf, gathering its spilling ends gently in my hands. Mako wouldn't be allowed to go with any personal items, anything that might hint at his true identity. It would make sense for him to leave it here, I reason with myself. With trembling fingers I begin to wind the fabric around my neck. Dust covers the usually vibrant red. I brush it away with a tender touch.

I curl up on my side next to the couch, digging the slip out of my pocket. The wooden frame of the sofa presses against my back, but I pay no mind to it. I stare the four characters scrawled hurriedly across the paper until my eyes become too heavy and my mind is too full of nothing at all.

The words dance in my head all night long.

Lin says nothing when I turn up at the station the next day wearing Mako's scarf. She waits patiently for me at the entrance, fending back the waiting paparazzi with her sharp words and even sharper tongue.

I breathe deeply, and draw the scarf over my shaky, smiling mouth. I whisper my secret to it, trusting that it will keep it safe until Mako returns.

I miss you too.

My knee bounces, too fast and not fast enough at the same time. The entire interrogation room seems to be shaking. The hard edges of the chair dig into the backs of my thighs as I wait.

Lin had literally dragged me out of bed this morning. Or rather, off of the couch, where I had taken to sleeping; listening to the police channel on the radio- a gift from Mr. Chung to replace the other one –until I fall asleep.

I can't sit still anymore. I leap out of my seat, knocking it back a few feet. I pace the tiny room, and swallow back the memory of being trapped in an even smaller, darker, colder box high in the mountains. I stop when I hear the door open behind me, folding my restless hands at the small of my back. There's a bit of a struggle before there's a loud click, and a slam as the door is shut again. Lin's voice fills the room, battling for space against my anxiousness.

"Begin." She quips.

I turn ninety degrees, facing the wall to my right now. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the prisoner, their head bowed over their hands, which are shackled to the table. Ragged fingernails drum on the table. Their tempo can't compare to my speeding heart.

I know Lin is watching me through the one way mirror installed in the wall facing the prisoner. The metal tray below it slides out, containing a folder. I grab it and flip it open carelessly. "Let's get this over with shall we?" I say brusquely. My eyes skim over the charges. "Let's see- Aiding a crime in progress, evading arrest and injuring a figure of authority in the process." I tilt my head curiously. My voice is incredulous when I speak. "Did you really think you could get away with it?"

There's a loud click and a teasing voice replies: "Well I got away with this, didn't I?"

I spin around.

Standing there, gray jacket torn at the shoulder seam, and his face full of grime is Mako.

"I'm dreaming aren't I?" I say flatly, expression deadpan.

He laughs, and my anxiety- that had filled the entirety of the room –cedes only to the sound. Mako leaps across the table, coming to a stop in front of me. His fingers find the scarf, which I haven't taken off since the day I found it. My eyes are drawn to those calloused and pale puzzle pieces, meant to fit perfectly in the spaces between my fingers; the rough gloves scratching at the lines of my palm. He lifts his hand to my chin, forcing me to look at him through tears and hope and disbelief.

"Well then your dream must be coming true." His voice is as rough as the gloves covering his scarred hands. I unwind the scarf, and pull him closer, until its draped around the both of us. I rest my forehead against his, feeling his shuddering breaths become in sync with mine.

"So have you had enough space?" The lightness is gone now, and seriousness replaces it.

For the first time in over a month, I smile. Brilliantly and brightly, until it feels like I'll burst from its magnitude. "Yes," I reply confidently, and bury my head in the space beneath his jaw.

His arms come around me, folding me into his chest.

I whisper the secret I had been keeping for so long. "I missed you too."

Together, our smiles fill the interrogation room's space.

Yes, it's finally done! Over four thousand words, although I was hoping for five. It wasn't a very realistic goal though. I tried sort of a different writing style this time. Like it? Hate it? Let me know!

Sorry for the long wait, things are going to get hectic pretty soon. National Novel Writing Month is coming up, I'm involved in my school's musical, and of course, there's always homework being assigned, whether I want it or not.

I'll try my best to update before then. Fingers crossed! Please don't favorite or follow without reviewing. If you have a prompt for me, send me a PM or drop it in a review. Reviews are loved, the people who write them even more so.

SNO.