A/N: Original posted to my tumblr avatar-dealwithit

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He rubbed at his stinging eyes with the points of his knuckles, pressing his back against the chair he occupied. The cool metal dug into his spine and he shifted, his torso brushing over the edge of the table. Overhead the dangling light flickered, the shortest of flashes, but this didn't fail to irritate him; for weeks he had been reminding the maintenance crew that certain circuits in the building were faltering and, of course, the issue had yet to be fixed. If any place inhabited the most lethargic of janitorial staffs, their headquarters would be it, and that fact always left him shaking his head. A lengthy yawn eased its way between Mako's chapped lips, but he disregarded his body's sleepy disinterest as his ochre gaze settled on the stack of documents in front of him. The mere sight of the black words that decorated the various papers made his mouth pull down in a frown.

"Go home, officer."

Lifting his chin up at the sound of the familiar firm tone, he was met with the lined face of Lin Beifong. She stood in the doorway with a hand placed on the frame and her grey hair tied back in a sharp bun. A part of him wasn't the least bit surprised to see that she was still present. The woman wouldn't retire home unless she was certain that any problem that appeared during the day were settled. Mako always thought that if that were the case then she should really get down to cracking the whip on the languid upkeep.

"I was just finishing up some reports on the last assignment, Chief," he told her while gesturing loosely to the pile of papers before him. Lin gave him a stern look that he deciphered easily. His actions were unnecessary. Deliberately drowning himself in past investigation information was unnecessary, and he knew this. Though, it would take a great deal of prodding to get him to admit it.

Lin folded her arms over her chest and said matter-of-factly, "It's after midnight."

Mako furrowed his brow. "Is it?" Lin answered with a jerk of her head toward the adjacent wall where the clock hung. 12:52 a.m. He blinked as he registered the time the hands displayed; he hadn't realized how late he had remained at the station. He had merely intended to stay behind for a handful of hours as he completed previous work, just as he did the night before, but clearly the handful he had expected had turned into the entire night. It was no wonder his body felt so ragged. Well, at least his underlying wish had been fulfilled. That he was satisfied with, if only partially.

The metalbender took a moment to analyze him before sighing, the rigidness in her face fading away. "May I ask why you seem so overly dedicated to your work as of late?" she inquired. "This is the third night in a row." Lin was never one to be anything but mildly curious and so Mako provided her with a surface response.

"Just trying to get things done."

Of course, that wasn't exactly true. In reality, he could care less about fully filling out anything, he simply desired a well needed distraction and at the present time, his work did just that. He needed something that would steer himself away from the thoughts that bounced and collided within his mind, making ill judgments spring forth. Right now, his head was too messy a place for even him to be. However, neither Lin nor anyone else needed to be aware of that.

Lin glanced at the papers before motioning for Mako to stand. "Finish them some other time," she stated. "For now, just go home, officer. Get some sleep. Give yourself a break."

A beat and then Mako allowed a defeated breath to fall off his tongue as he stood, the chair scratching against the floor. Distractions don't last forever, he thought as he bid Lin a short goodnight. She placed her palm on his shoulder before he made his exit and he could have sworn that the her eyes held a splash of reassurance as if she knew exactly what was eating away at the crevices of his brain.

"Buck up, soldier." The slab of advice came off sounding more like a demand, an order passed from superior to subordinate, but he accepted it anyhow. He knew Lin wouldn't pry as she probably concluded that whatever was bothering him was a personal affair and he silently thanked her for that.

He nodded to the older woman as he made to grab his coat by the door before finally stepping outside.

The coolness of the air teased his exposed cheeks, tracing the outline of his jaw. He buttoned his jacket, hiding the uniform beneath it as a light shiver spilled through him. The temperature was betraying the approach of autumn. It almost didn't dawn on him, but soon he realized that the minor chill tickled his bare neck.

Mako's motorcycle was parked on the other side of the building and he didn't take his time in starting it up. The engine roared, cutting through the night and slipping over the city buildings causing his mouth to twitch, forming a slight smile. The thunder of the small vehicle never disappointed him. He gripped the handles, feeling the vibrations pulse throughout his fingertips and he recalled what Bolin had once dubbed the motorcycle upon his receiving it. The iron dragon. The memory pushed a chuckle out of him and in seconds, he was flying down the street, the dragon beating its wings.

And still he didn't go home.

1:28 a.m.

Mako remembered how often he used to frequent Narook's, generally to settle his younger brother's appetite, but this time he arrived in the man's noodle shop with no set reason lingering on the soles of his feet. He was startled to find that the restaurant was packed with people, drunken laughter echoing off the walls. Though he searched, Narook was nowhere to be found; Mako assumed that he was busy attending to customers seeing how popular he was this evening. Right, it's the weekend, the firebender reminded himself. He's working all night long, poor guy.

Dodging a stumbling couple, Mako headed for the back corner of the restaurant, weaving through bodies in a strategic manner. However, even with his careful movement he wasn't able to avoid the occasional push and shove of a stranger. It was as if Narook's was the flame and the late night citizens were the barrage of moths. Thankfully, the rear booths were absent of people and he settled himself inside, keeping his coat on. No one needed to know that a police officer was in their intoxicated midst.

It seemed that as soon as he took his seat, the rest of the world and all its noise simply dropped away. A thick barrier domed his booth, blocking everything and everyone out while he was left to his own island. Hesitantly, he slipped a hand inside his coat pocket, his calloused fingers curling around a small square of paper. He brought it to the light and the sight was almost humorous. A measly letter. A measly letter was the cause of his pinching anxiety. Carefully, he unfolded it, his eyes met with tattered edges and visible creases, proof of how many times he had opened and folded it up again and again.

He flattened it out against the table's oak surface, the dim light illuminating the messy handwritten words that flooded his vision. The desire to laugh greeted his lips as his eyes spilled over the ink. She had never had the neatest writing and he had teased her about it many times before. She claimed that the scratchy style resulted from not caring to take her time; after all, she wasn't one for patience and never would be.

Mako bent his head over its contents, reading it over for what must have been the thousandth time.

Dear Mako,

I don't know what day it is because I'm honestly too lazy to keep up counting, but I think it might be a Wednesday. Anyway, I just came back from a short trip to Ember Island. It's this resort area on one of the outlying islands of the Fire Nation. Have you heard of it? The place was pretty lush, but you know I'm not too keen on fancy things. And apparently there was a play about our battle with Amon. Didn't get around to seeing it though, so I haven't the slightest idea if it was any good.

I'm headed to Omashu next and I don't care if I look like a fool, I'm itching to ride those mail shoots.

I miss you, Mako. More than you know. I hope you and Bo are doing well. Tell him I'll be writing him as soon as I can. Keep up the crime fighting, my noble policeman.

I love you.

Korra

There were only six words that made his chest tighten. I miss you. I love you. Neither of them ever failed to include those words in their many letters to each other. It was a natural urge to write them down. The old saying said that distance made the heart grow fonder, but that didn't mean the distance was bearable and Mako had come to learn that the hard way. It had been a month since he had sent his response, a month since her letters had abruptly stopped. A nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that it was nothing to worry about. She was the Avatar, she had responsibilities to tend to, but even so, he couldn't help it. He just wanted to know that she was okay.

I miss you. I love you.

"What're you doing here, Hotpants?"

The sudden laceration in his reverie made Mako turn his gaze upward, his forehead creasing. "Asami?" he said, voice colored with slight disbelief. His raven haired friend slid into the seat across from him, those midnight tresses bouncing around her shoulders. Her red lips turned up in a smile and her cheeks entertained a soft shade of pink, informing him that she had some bubbly drinks.

"What are you doing here?" he countered teasingly. It was rare nowadays that he encountered Asami engrossed in the nightlife of Republic City, but he supposed that even with her high standing as the boss of Future Industries, she was still a young woman that deserved fun in her life every once in a while.

Asami placed her chin atop a delicate hand and said, "I was here with your brother. We came for dinner." Upon seeing Mako quirk an interested eyebrow, the Sato rolled her eyes. "As friends, Mako. Don't be so quick to assume."

Mako chuckled. "Right. Sorry." He paused. "Then where's Bolin?"

"He went back to the apartment. He's planning on visiting Councilman Tenzin's family early in the morning." Asami's light eyes floated down to the letter. "What do you have there?"

"Oh." He proceeded to fold the paper, shielding it away from Asami. "It's a letter. Nothing special." He returned it to its home within his pocket.

"It's from Korra, right?"

They locked gazes for a moment and then Mako pushed out a sigh. "Yeah." To this day, he still couldn't hide anything from Asami. His face was an open book, no matter how bare he tried to make the pages.

She brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead before saying, "Your dedication never ceases to amaze me. Three years and you two still keep up with each other."

Three years. Sometimes that fact of time astounded him. He hadn't felt her touch in three years, hadn't heard the lively tones of her voice in three years. He'd be a liar if he said that this didn't faze him. And now her letters had stopped. As much as he wanted Korra to be solely his, he knew that that was just an empty wish. As the Avatar, she belonged to everyone, benders and non-benders alike. He couldn't be selfish, though the temptation had burdened his body more than once. Him on the other hand, well, he belonged to her. What're you up to, Korra?

Mako lifted his shoulders in a partial shrug. "I guess we don't have anything better to do with our time." Asami grinned, catching his bad joke. What was time to the bringer of peace and balance? Time was probably something Korra needed an abundance of. "So, I see you had a few drinks, Miss Sato," he added with good nature.

An amused titter rattled her throat and she raised her hand, holding her index finger and thumb a few centimeters apart. "Perhaps a little bit." In her maturity, Asami had taken to playing host to a more carefree spirit. Mako found the attitude addition refreshing and appropriate. After everything his former beau had gone through with her father and the temporary crumble of the Sato industry, a more lighthearted outlook on things was a healthy medicine.

He watched as she adjusted the straps of her maroon dress, running manicured hands over the fabric to smooth out the wrinkles. "I hear from her from time to time. Not recently, though." She wasn't looking at him. "She sounds like she having one hell of a time traveling."

"Of course she is. She's probably causing all kinds of mischief."

Silence.

"I miss her." Asami's voice was wistful as she said it and Mako could almost see the recollection of their past replay within her mind's eye, some fuzzy like a poor radio broadcast. He wondered if they shared the same tight feeling whenever they recalled that certain memory that he guessed was only moments away from flickering behind her eyes. Korra's goodbye. It was a farewell that still lingered on their ears today.

"Well, she's definitely leading a more interesting life than the rest of us." Asami waved a hand, motioning for the scrawny waiter across the room to approach their table. She tilted her head to Mako and asked, "Do you want a drink? I don't mind sparing a few yuans on you, officer of the law."

Mako shook his head as he laughed, getting to his feet. "I'm actually going to head out. This place is starting to feel a little too crowded."

"Suit yourself."

Mako brushed passed the panting waiter, guffaws following him.

2:12 a.m.

"You always have your head in a book, General."

Iroh didn't remove his gaze from the tome when he said, "And you're always in my cabin." The sound of a page turning. "Besides, reading goes well with tea. At least that's what my Grandfather says."

The two of them really should have been in bed, but it seemed sleep was lost to them. A pair of foreign hands beckoning to blind eyes. She didn't crave sleep. Not on this night.

Korra shifted her sapphire irises to the mug she held between her palms. The steam from the liquid spiraled, the wisps making intricate shapes for her to take in. She set the cup down and placed her hands behind her, leaning back. The entire interior of the General's ship cabin was crimson and often it made her want to gag. Really, was it compulsory for firebenders to constantly show off their national color? All this red was making her head spin and she swore to herself that she'd add a vast assortment of colors to her rather limited wardrobe.

"Maybe I just enjoy bugging you," she said simply.

"I figured as much."

Korra glanced out the porthole, taking in the dark appearance of the night beyond. "How much longer until we dock?" she questioned once again. She had learned that Iroh wasn't a person that was easily irritated and so even if she interrupted his studying of the history book he cradled a hundred times over, he would not be troubled.

"A few more hours," he told her. "Two and a half to be exact. I swear, you're the most impatient person I've ever met."

"Guilty as charged," she sighed, flicking the handle of the teacup.

"But I understand why." She arched a curious eyebrow at him and he continued, "You haven't seen your friends in a while."

"A while is an understatement, Iroh."

It astonished and bewildered her that she was able to be absent from the city for as long as she had. The feeling of missing everyone often physically pained her, making her chest clench. During her time away, she had concluded that the hardest part of being the Avatar wasn't the fighting or the motivational speeches or even the act of maintaining peace. No, the most difficult thing had been setting her jaw and leaving for the world. However, Korra was satisfied with the accomplishments she had made in the years since her departure. Who would have thought that one day she would be the one to settle disputes between nations? Perhaps she was finally learning to become a proper Avatar.

The image of Mako's face clung to her eyelashes and she felt that familiar sense of longing buried itself at the pit of her stomach. Three years without him—without his careful smile—had been far, far too long. She pressed on to imagine how much her boyfriend must have changed in all this time. Her mouth quirked at the mere thought of him finally growing into something that resembled man. It was a bizarre. He was no longer a boy and she was no longer a girl. A man. A woman. Those were the titles they now hosted.

Iroh broke the momentary quiet with a question. "You still aren't going to tell them you're coming, are you?"

Korra stretched, popping the stiff joints in her muscles before spreading herself out on the carpeted floor, the ceiling staring back at her. "No. That takes the fun out of the surprise." She wouldn't admit to it, but there was a sort of smug pleasure in the fact that she was probably filling Mako's head with worry. It's good for him, she thought.

Iroh turned his attention to her then, closing the book with a soft thud. "I'm sure," he began, "that Mako will be very happy to see that you kept that intact."

Korra grinned, casting her eyes downward at what he had gestured to. "Oh, I know he will be."

4:39 a.m.

Mako found himself on the far side Yue Bay, standing on the boardwalk with his hands submerged in his coat pockets. He had wasted his hours driving through the streets of the city, the streetlights providing him with silent company. He didn't know what it was that kept him from returning home. He guessed that it was the drawer filled to the brim with her letters that he knew he'd probably spend forever sifting through, reading each one again as he missed her. You're such a sap, Mako. You'd think you were a love-struck thirteen year old boy.

He pushed back his dark hair as he looked over the calm water, the moon spilling its white-silver glow over the rolling surface. The dawn would swallow up the moon soon, bringing rise to another day, and here he was, purposefully painting his body with exhaustion. All because he was too stubborn to go back to his and his brother's apartment. He at least hoped that Bolin was getting a goodnight's sleep, but seeing as he probably filled his stomach with noodles while with Asami, diving into slumber most likely wasn't a problem.

The wood of the dock sighed under his weight as he sat at the walks edge, allowing his feet to dangle over the side. The tip of his shoe kissed the water, reminding him how tall he had gotten, pushing six feet one. He would have to take some time to get used to his lengthy limbs. The spark of a few stars watched him from where they hung on their inky canvas and this caused Mako to wonder if Korra were witnessing the same sky.

He had read about some of her adventures in the newspaper, though the reporters accounts were usually corrected by the stories she packed into her letters. She definitely seemed to make an impression on every nation she visited The leaders and citizens alike all praised her, some handful of fans even basking in her presence. Mako was happy for her. She was finally a fully realized Avatar appreciated by all, but that didn't stop him from wishing that she had never left him to yearn for her among the city buildings.

"Really, this is your fault, Korra," he said aloud. "I'm not supposed to miss you this much."

A gust of wind.

"I don't think blaming me is going to benefit anyone."

Mako pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally shaking himself. Great, now he was hearing things, imagining her voice. He truly needed to get into bed before his delusions carried him any further. Then he noticed the shadow beside him and the recognizable tattered boots. No, it couldn't—

Head turned upward. Eyes grew wide. Heart stopped. Amber saw cerulean.

Korra.

She smirked down at him, her hands placed on the curve of her hips. Her chocolate hair framed her face, her ends greeting her chin, and her eyes—the eyes he had wished to see for years—were bluer than they had ever been before. Mako scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over himself as he hurried to stand before her. At first, it was as if he were a toddler witnessing the appearance of a ghostly apparition. It was unreal. Time had spread so far and so slowly that this seemed impossible, but then the largest of smiles stretched across his face and he pulled the woman toward him, wrapping his arms around her torso, squeezing her tight.

The feeling of her cocooned in his arms was sheer bliss. Her warmth spread throughout his body, causing the fire inside him that had previously laid dormant to spark to life. Korra. She was really here. He could feel her, her skin was soft and smooth beneath his fingertips.

A light laugh shook Korra's shoulders and she threw her arms around his neck, though the action was clumsy as their height difference had grown since the last time they had seen each other. The sound of her laughter was like a holy orchestra and Mako buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent. The smell of sunlight and cinnamon, he was drunk with her. He held her for what must have been a millennium, but eventually—unwillingly—he pulled away from her, keeping one hand on her waist and lifting the other to tug at an individual strand of her brown tresses.

"You cut it," he pointed out.

Korra smiled, overlapping his hand with hers. "Thanks for mentioning the obvious, officer. If you say you don't like it, I'm liable to punch you."

A grin. "I love it."

"Good."

"I love you."

Korra cupped his face in her hands, her blue eyes glinting as she stared into his tawny ones. "Good." She pushed herself up on tip toe, craning her neck to capture his lips with hers. The sweetness was something he remembered well and he returned her kiss with equal vigor. They spoke to each other without words, disregarding their previous loneliness and replacing it with the chaste yearning that bubbled inside their chests. Their heartbeats rebounded against each other, forming a sort of musical rhythm that they didn't trouble themselves with identify. Their heads were drowning with each other.

After all this time.

Even after all this time.

They weren't aware of the sun breaking the line of the horizon, shooting off its collective colors. There was only Mako. There was only Korra.

Only them.

They would have to make up for three years of missing and neither of them would argue against it.

The red scarf around Korra's neck fluttered in the breeze.