Disclaimer: Yeah. Still don't own.
Word Count: 17,334
Author's Notes: 12/3/13. Well. This is it. For those of you who've been with this story from the very beginning, you know that this story has undergone quite the transformation since its conception. It's hard to believe that this was only ever intended to be a one-shot (and then a two-shot, naturally) as part of my contributions to last year's Tahnorra Week. (1 was written for Day 6: An Important Step in the Relationship. Bizarre, right?) This chapter's final word count is a whopping 17,334, which means that it is the longest chapter of the entire story. I hope you enjoy it!

Also, the brief line about "kicking asphalt" totally came from the t-shirt and headband I own from UnderArmour®. Honestly one of my favorite running slogans.

Musical Inspiration: I listened to "Chocolate" by 1975 for pretty much the whole first half, because it really matched the mood. "My Fault" by Imagine Dragons was listened to on-repeat for hours during the final scenes. And finally, "Flaws" by Bastille.

Beta'd by Rhi and ebonyquill. Thanks, you guyssss.

5

Somewhere around six-thirty on Saturday morning, Korra woke up.

There was another mass of body heat somewhere beside her, soft and solid and bundled beneath the covers, and outside the window the world was beginning to show the faintest glimmerings of dawn. There was movement down the hallway and the sounds of early morning life drifting up from downstairs. It made her feel peaceful and warm. Quickly convinced that such peace should not be disturbed—should be taken advantage of—Korra promptly burrowed herself deeper into her pillows and went back to bed.

"Not quite," Asami said in a much-too-loud voice, with a hearty poke to her shoulder. Balefully, Korra peeked up at her from the pillows, and glared; Asami's fingernails were pretty long.

"Five more minutes."

Asami gave her a look, cutting and dry, and then gave Korra's face a gentle, loving—slap, slap.

"Up," she ordered, as Korra decided that Asami was never, in her life, ever spending the night with her at her uncle's house again.

"Why?" Korra blearily demanded, though truthfully, she was growing more and more awake with each passing second. It's still dark out, she complained, to no one.

It took her a moment to recognize that Asami had already gotten out of bed. It took her far less time to recognize when Asami catapulted back onto it. (She did not yelp. She did not.)

"Because you, Miss Korra, have some ass to kick today."

Still, getting out of bed wasn't exactly easy, even with Asami there. (Prompting her. Poking her. Hard.) Even after weeks and weeks of the same morning routine, of living in a house full of early risers, of getting plenty of sleep or barely any at all, waking up before the crack of dawn was still just as unappealing as ever. It hadn't been easy in the mountains either, when she'd woken up in sleeping bags and tents or on solid dirt floors. She just wasn't a morning person. Some days were better than others. (And on some days, Korra had learned, having the will to get out of bed had very little do with sleep at all.) For example, on that particular weekend morning, Korra realized that it wasn't any easier getting out of bed than it'd been the previous Saturday.

But, as Korra noticed, with a funny floating feeling in her stomach: it also wasn't any harder.

"You're awake," Korra marveled, blinking at her three small cousins with wide eyes. They were seated around the kitchen table, looking almost like a typical, well-mannered family. Almost.

Korra's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Why are you awake?"

Meelo made a face and grumbled something, which made Korra think that perhaps he wasn't quite as awake as she'd thought. Jinora looked rather subdued, but that wasn't out of the ordinary, and she'd been skimming over the front page of the previous day's paper until she and Asami had walked in. Ikki was trembling in her chair, and had two hands wrapped tightly around a steaming mug of—

Wait a minute.

"Ikki," Korra snapped, striding forward to the table. Asami, who was behind her and probably moderately confused, followed. "Ikki, are you—are you drinking coffee?"

Ikki's small frame jerked, as if burned. She looked manic. Though, Korra's mind considered, as panicky realization struck her brain. That's not really out of the ordinary, either.

"So what if I'm drinking coffee?" Ikki demanded, quick as lightning. "You drink coffee."

Korra was too shell-shocked to create much of a response. "I drink tea," she corrected lamely.

"I don't see what the big deal is. So what if I drink coffee? Grown-ups drink coffee all the time and no one says anything to them about it."

"Um," Korra stuttered, briefly wondering just how much information she could pack into as few words as possible about bloodstreams and caffeine and the tender topic of young, growing bodies and holy crap—where's Pema?

"I don't think—"

"Asami, did you know Korra liked Mako?" Ikki asked suddenly, as Korra's whole world darkened around her, all flames and burning and lightning screaming through the backdrop of her mind. What the—what the hell, Ikki?!

"Oh," Asami said, a little uncomfortably. She shifted her eyes around, quickly to Korra, then back to Ikki. "Uh, yeah. Actually, I was sort of already aware of that."

Ikki's head curled to the side, thoughtful consideration hidden behind a look of pure caffeine-coated craze. "Oh," she said quietly, as if she wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to say next, and then brightly said, "All right!" and "I have to go to the bathroom now," and fled.

Korra and Asami watched—half-awed, half-mortified—as the nearly empty mug rattled on the kitchen table in the wake of its owner's quick departure, then finally came to rest with a small clatter on the wood. Meelo's forehead promptly hit the kitchen table with a thud, and then remained there. His light snores could be heard from under the table. Their gazes rose to Jinora in question, who hadn't bothered to look up from her page.

"It's decaf," Jinora clarified, casually flipping her paper over. "Mom started switching the container labels around as soon as Ikki was able to read them. Ikki thinks she's consuming caffeine. We as a family have decided that, for now, it's best not to correct her."

Korra blinked. Asami's mouth opened, then closed. "That doesn't seem..." Asami trailed off, and Korra didn't have any other words to fill in the blank, either.

"Why are you guys up so early?" she asked instead, quickly. "Where's Aunt Pema?" And Tenzin?

"Mom was finishing up in the upstairs bathroom, but said she'll be right down. Dad is out for a quick run."

Korra considered that. "Quick, huh?" she muttered, glancing dubiously at the clock. She wasn't at all concerned about her ever-punctual uncle being late, per se; she'd been proud of herself for getting out of bed early, and didn't like the idea that somewhere out there, somebody had gotten up earlier than her simply for fun. It couldn't be good karma. And Korra knew a thing or two about—

"Did you have fun at the pep rally, Korra?"

Korra started, mind running blank.

"It was great!" Asami stepped in, cheerful smile so bright that Korra might have actually believed her, if she hadn't known any better. "It was a blast—an awesome start to the weekend."

Jinora smiled softly at Asami, eyes all aglow. Probably thinking about how pretty she is or chemistry or her books or some weird-ass volcanoes and tragic romance again, Korra thought with resignation; she knew that thoughtful look well enough by now. "Hey," Korra called, trying to step in before things inevitably took a turn for the medieval, so-to-speak. "Asami, what do you want to eat? We've got whole cabinets full of healthy shit—uh, stuff. I mean stuff. Jinora, cover your ears—you didn't hear that."

"Hear what?"

"Good girl," Korra said shortly, then quickly strode over to the cabinets, Asami in tow. "Let's see," she muttered, raking a hand through cardboard boxes as she allowed her teammate to examine their options for fuel. "Cereal, granola bars, chia seed stuff—I still don't know what they are—healthy vegan crap, yummy healthy vegan crap, apples, almonds, cashews—"

"Did you see Tahno?"

Korra's hand stilled.

"Um," Asami said, smoothly.

"Ikki!" came a voice from upstairs, loud and not quite shrill, but close. "What have I told you about leaving your LEGOs on the floor! Meelo!"

There was a violent snort from the kitchen table, where Korra had forgotten all about a sleeping Meelo. With a jerk, he came to, and off he ran, bleary-eyed and half-asleep, straight into the wall. And then, eventually, to the stairs.

With a sigh, Jinora carefully folded her newspaper and gently laid it over her placemat at the table. "I better go upstairs," she explained, then hurried off to help.

Korra didn't move immediately; this morning was feeling a little too bizarre for her liking, and it was only after catching sight of Asami's face—curious and concerned—that she jolted into action. Hastily, she pulled an apple from the fruit basket on the counter, and snapped two bananas from the bunch, which was hanging on its special hook. She moved to the other side of the counter, pointedly looking away from Asami as she slipped a cutting board out of the drawer, and a paring knife. We still have peanut butter, don't we? she asked herself, knowing full well that they did. Some toast and a banana should be fine. Or an apple, if Asami prefers apples. Maybe she prefers cashew butter? I'll have to ask her. She seems like the kind of person who would like—

"Korra," Asami began uncertainly, sliding closer along the edge of the countertop where Korra chopped. "What... did happen with you and Tahno last night?"

Her knife kept chopping, but she couldn't help the pulling of her brows, which was bound to be a sure giveaway. Korra withheld her sigh, if only because she knew that it would only lead to more unwanted questions. And because she was so damn tired of sighing all the time.

"A lot," she answered vaguely, not completely able to keep the tiredness from her voice. Asami listened attentively, arms crossed for warmth, as Korra continued to slice banana pieces. It was a little surreal, when she thought about it—Asami Sato, standing there in her kitchen, while she chopped up a banana for her. It wasn't exactly what she would have envisioned, say—five weeks ago. But then again...

Nothing really was.

"I think I'm going to have to save the story for after the meet, though," Korra admitted, offering Asami a meaningful look. "I sort of just... want to focus on the run for right now."

Asami hesitated, then nodded in understanding. "Are you okay, though?" she asked, trying to be delicate.

Korra thought hard about her answer before she gave it.

"Yeah," she told her honestly, reaching for the apple and split it in half with ease. "Surprisingly... I kind of am." There was a dull ache floating in her chest, and a sort of detachment hanging about the air, but for the most part—Yeah. I actually kind of... am.

Asami smiled, just a little. "You know you're telling me everything in like, five hours, right?"

Helplessly, Korra laughed. "Yeah," she agreed with a shrug, ignoring the creeping sensation at the back of her mind, the one that told her she was missing something. "Whatever," she scoffed.

Asami's hip came hurtling toward hers; Korra shifted, catching Asami's hip with hers with a gentle bump. She bumped back.

I don't know what I'd do without you, Korra thought suddenly, hit with an an overwhelming wave of gratitude. You and Bolin and Tenzin and Pema and the kids and... Never, in her wildest dreams, would she have imagined having been so lucky as to find the kind of family that she'd found here, in such a place, so far from all the wonders of home.

"Hey," Asami prompted gently, perhaps a bit sheepishly. "You didn't happen to say something about having tea, did you?"

Korra smiled.

When Tenzin arrived, it didn't take much more to get the morning rolling.

Asami was the one driving Korra to the school, but that didn't stop Korra from pestering her uncle in the vestibule on their way out the door.

"Is Uncle Bumi coming?" she asked eagerly.

A heavy sigh escaped him, thick with exasperation. Tenzin bundled his scarf more tightly around his neck and said, "With any luck, he'll oversleep."

"Tenzin!"

"What?" he asked, in what was probably the driest voice she'd ever heard from him, ever. "The man believes in using just about any reason to celebrate, and I can only entertain my brother for so long before he tires of sobriety and surrenders it altogether."

Korra wasn't sure whether she should laugh, or be annoyed. "Well, did he say anything about plans for later?" she asked curiously. "I was sort of hoping that we might be able to do something special today after the meet."

Tenzin's mouth tightened, which was a little weird, but then he said, "I know that there are plans to go visit our mother tonight for dinner. I imagine he forgot to mention it with the chaos of the week."

Korra's mind flickered at that—warm, dry lips in a warm, dry car—but she blinked and demanded, "Wait. We're all going to Great Aunt Katara's? Tonight?"

"That is the plan," Tenzin announced, smiling a little wryly at the warm enthusiasm in her eyes.

For a moment, she merely smiled, but then with a sudden lurch, she catapulted into the air, eyes squeezed shut, fist pumping high as she shouted, "Yes! Finally!"

She remained stuck in place when she landed, so bursting with unbridled excitement that she was practically frozen, and when she looked up, Tenzin was smiling down at her, more than a little amused.

"I mean... Yeah. That sounds like a good plan," she nodded, trying to regain her cool, and failing. Figuring it couldn't hurt, she nodded casually and threw in a, "Thanks."

Korra heard her name from out front—Asami, with a heads up that the car was finally warm enough to roll out—and Korra sent one more fleeting grin at her Uncle Tenzin before slipping out the front door and cutting toward Asami's car, barely able to contain her excitement. As they drove away, she waved to Pema and the kids while they waited in the other car, and watched as Tenzin locked the front door behind him. She didn't see his face as she and Asami rounded the corner, but she had the distinct feeling that, even from all the way from the end of their driveway, he was smiling at her.

From: The "Amazing, Bouncing, Beautiful" Bolin
To: Group MMS (Cap'n A!, me)
ALL RIGHT, WHO'S READY? IT'S RACE DAY, BITCHES.
Received: Saturday, Oct 26 6:58am

From: The "Amazing, Bouncing, Beautiful" Bolin
To: Group MMS (Cap'n A!, me)
Sorry, is it too early for that? I mean that with the utmost respect, truly.
Received: Saturday, Oct 26 6:58am

"Asami! Stop texting while driving! Jesus—hand me your phone, at least, if you're so hellbent on texting, so you won't destroy us when—"

From: Cap'n A!
To: Group MMS (The "Amazing, Bouncing, Beautiful" Bolin, me)
As long as you don't mind being called one, yourself. ;)
Received: Saturday, Oct 26 7:00am

From: The "Amazing, Bouncing, Beautiful" Bolin
To: Group MMS (Cap'n A!, me)
Well, in that case: ALL RIGHT.
Received: Saturday, Oct 26 7:01am

It really was a beautiful morning.

The drive in Asami's car was quick but comforting, and when Korra's sneakers hit the pavement of the high school parking lot and she caught sight of the bus waiting in the lane, she felt a sense of rightness that she had scarcely felt before.

Asami and Korra took up a seat in the middle of the bus, and Korra smiled at Bolin when his head popped into view at the front. His smile was bright, but apologetic, though Korra hardly had any blame to give; her gaze ducked down as Bolin neared the top step and took a seat near the driver, his much taller brother already in view. Asami was in the aisle seat, and she was so much better at appearing unaffected than Korra was, and she might have even smiled a little at Mako, but Korra really had no way of seeing for herself. She did appreciate it, however, when Asami's shoulder brushed hers, comforting and encouraging and warm.

The trip to the Wildcats' high school was much longer than it'd been for any of the other meets Korra had attended thus far, and she found herself grateful for the brief blip of shut-eye it allowed her. (Asami was feeling generous, apparently.) She kept nodding off against the window, torn between the warmth of the bus and the coolness of the glass pane against her temple, until suddenly, they were there, and her teammates were trickling off the bus, chattering and lighthearted and seemingly so much more cheerful than the previous Saturday.

Warm-ups were uneventful, aside from the fact that Asami had another girl try her hand at leading the troops, and Korra waited patiently as Asami occasionally offered her little mentees some guidance. She stretched and bounced and jogged alongside her team, and Korra even began to smile again—the real kind, light and genuine and free. The starting line-up felt like home, with the sharp air biting at her cheeks and the sweat collecting at her brow, gathering underneath the stuffy heat of her headband, and a new elastic in her hair, borrowed from Asami. The gunshot through the air sounded like a call, and Korra reveled in the echo it drummed inside of her, the distinct dropping of her heart into her stomach as her senses sharpened and her heels kicked upward and her feet cycled through, knees driving forward, cadence quick and steady and rhythmic into the dirt, the ends of her ponytail almost sharp against her neck in the wind. As the sound of footsteps into the earth pounded though her ears, loud and heavy, Korra's eyes piercing with focus, breaths brimming fuller with power. As she tore through the trees, feeling blood pump through her limbs and the air clear her mind and unlock her spirit, Korra knew, with utmost certainty—

Her heart felt lighter than ever.

"You—kicked—asphalt!"

What? Are you sure? Korra thought distractedly, clutching the back of her skull with both hands as she half-stumbled, half-jogged out the end of the chute. "I thought that was grass," she squinted, thinking hard. "And really dry pine needles."

"Ah. No, I—never mind. You did awesome," Asami assured her, sticky and beautiful and gross with sweat as she took hold of Korra's shirt and pulled her forward, away from the line of runners veering away from the finish. Asami had a medal around her neck, bright with the reflecting sun, and Korra felt insanely, irrationally happy. And exhausted. Really fucking exhausted.

"Come on," Asami urged her, smiling at Korra's dazed grin. "Let's go get the girls and cool down before we start looking for your family. The boys aren't running for another twenty minutes, but you, lady, need to stretch."

"Ugh. I'm beginning to wonder whether you actually care about me at all."

"We could skip the stretching and check-in two hours from now, when your legs start to cramp up beyond all functioning?"

"Ugh. I'm beginning to wonder whether I actually care for you."

Asami smirked, and flicked Korra's cheek. "Keep wondering," she replied cheerfully, with just the tiniest hint of challenge; overall, Korra thought it was really rather Asami, in a nutshell. If Asami could fit in a nutshell.

"I think I need water," Korra said suddenly, face scrunching with confusion. Her brain felt funny.

"You and me both," Asami agreed, and off they went toward the water station, greeting and waving to other runners all along the way. Asami and Korra were there, at the line-up, when the boys prepared for their run, and even though Mako looked determinedly ahead all the while, turning his eyes only on his immediate teammates when it was time to rally or run, Korra felt strangely optimistic; he was angry and he had a right to be, and she was angry, too... But they were still friends, deep down. She still cared about him and he cared about her. And she had almost a whole year to try to fix things.

Just minutes before the gun went off, Bolin's expectant eyes sought them out in the crowd. His gaze was bright with determination, and when he spun on his heels and offered the two of them a double thumbs-up, she and Asami let out such a rousing battle cry that he actually blushed from the unexpected attention. He offered them a hearty salute and then turned back towards the front, and Korra felt warm all over, flushing with pride and happiness and something that she'd come to learn was friendship.

Once, just briefly, her eyes passed over the strangely empty space at the head of box one. Her eyes softened as she took in the sight, knowing that it would be filled again the following weekend, as it should be, and that all would be right again, even if not the same. But she decided that would be okay.

Korra was becoming rather good at change.

"Well done, girls," said a deep voice, proud and thrumming with energy despite the owner's age. "Asami, those turns were beautifully executed, and Korra—I saw you drive those knees up that hill. Much better."

Asami flushed under the unexpected praise. "Thanks, Coach."

"Yeah—thanks, Uncle T!"

Tenzin frowned, though without any real annoyance. "Perhaps I almost preferred it when you were determined to keep our familial relations a secret."

"Course you don't," Korra blithely replied, chest feeling so full she could burst.

"Korra, I do feel that I should mention something to you," Tenzin announced, far more gravely than Korra felt he had any right to be. Immediately, she tensed.

"What?" she demanded, brows furrowing.

"It seems that we'll be expecting a few additional guests for our dinner tonight. I think you should be prepared to employ your best behavior."

My best behavior—? "Um," Korra said, at a loss. "Okay? Who the hell is coming that I'd need to be—?"

"Beifong."

Korra gaped openly, and Asami stared on, blinking with unbidden surprise. "Wow, Korra," she muttered, looking her over with a fresh new wave of curiosity. "You sure live in a small world."

"I—how is it that—I don't—why?" she demanded, shocked beyond coherency. The investigation is over! Why the hell would—?

"You can thank your uncle," Tenzin replied, and now a bit of the annoyance began to seep through. His head nodded slightly, swaying from side to side in reconsideration, and he amended dryly, "Your other one."

"Bumi!" Korra groaned, then eyed Tenzin dubiously. Uh-oh. "Wait a minute. He's not coming, is he?" she asked suspiciously. "I mean—my other, other uncle. My real one." Honestly, she could only handle so much at once, okay?

"That, fortunately, is an honor we have all been spared," Tenzin sighed. "For the time being."

"Dammit," she muttered. And she'd been so looking forward to this, too!

"Language," he gently reminded, though apparently without much real hope. He glanced up toward the field and added, "You'll still have time to terrorize one another later." He was obviously referring to Uncle Bumi, which made Korra smile fondly at him. "I'm sure he feared that he would monopolize your time tonight, and... I imagine he expected your attentions to be relatively occupied elsewhere."

What? Korra frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Tenzin smirked.

"Um," Korra winced. "Uncle T, you're sort of scaring me."

"Your Chemistry teacher is not the only additional guest arriving tonight," Tenzin teased—teased!—and Korra was halfway through forming the thought of, You mean your ex-girlfriend? when he added, "Though this one was far less unexpected."

What? Korra scowled, hardly enjoying this guessing game at all. "Look, Tenzin, if you're trying to be funny, I suggest you—"

"Hello."

Oh my god, Korra blinked, at the striking realization that someone was right behind her and when did I lose all sense of stealth? And she recognized that voice, before she even turned around.

"What in the—what the—?!"

"Language!" Tenzin warned, but Korra only half-heard him.

Her arms were currently locked around the neck of someone much taller than she, clinging onto shoulders that were much, much broader. Her face was buried in leather and fur, in a familiar aviator jacket that smelled of home—the sharp scent of fuel, the sweetness of jasmine tea—and a deep, pleasant voice that laughed in her ear, thick with welcome and it's been a while and I missed you, too.

Korra's feet were set back on the ground—when had he picked her up?—but she was loathe to let go. God, I missed him! she thought desperately, struck with the truth of the realization all the more now that he was actually there, right in front of her. I'm so glad he came, Korra thought, squeezing more tightly, as he squeezed back, and I don't even care how you got here or—wait a minute.

She reared back and punched his shoulder.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you were coming?" she spat, harsh with angry demand.

Iroh looked mildly affronted, but only marginally surprised. "Ow," he grinned down at her, a little sheepishly, which did little to help his case and aw, fuck it—

Her arms locked around his waist, and his strong arms encircled his shoulders and when he laughed, Korra figured that this probably wasn't the best way of demonstrating a little pride, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Iroh is here, she smiled into the zipper of his jacket. Iroh is here!

"We wanted to surprise you," he explained into her hair, unable to stifle another laugh.

"Yeah, well," Korra muttered grouchily, thought it was almost impossible to keep up the act. "Consider me surprised."

"Good," Iroh declared, then stepped back so he could smile down at her face-to-face. "I was hoping you'd be."

Korra shuffled uncomfortably under the obvious display of affection, shifting on her feet as she tried to hide just how pleased she was with everything—with life, with this day, with all the luck she'd been granted, over and over—just on a matter of principle, and muttered, without any true malice, "I hope you got all of my sweaty grossness all over your jacket."

Iroh smirked, then reached a large hand down to ruffle her sweaty, gross hair. "I've seen you in the wilderness, four weeks without a proper shower," he reminded her. "Nothing could be grosser than that."

"Would you like another hug, then?" she jabbed.

"As a matter of fact—"

Korra squealed in happy surprise as he reached down and plucked her from the ground, spinning her as Uncle Bumi would. "I hate you," she smiled into jacket, feeling overwhelmed with the pure, uncomplicated joy of it all. "I hate you so much."

At long last, Korra was set back on her own two feet, and her face was flushed equally from happiness and shock and exercise. She couldn't stop smiling. And Tenzin was smiling, too—wide and real, even if he didn't show any teeth—and so was—

"Ah!" Korra exclaimed, feeing a quick shock of embarrassment over her bad manners. "Asami! Sorry—this is—this is my cousin, Iroh!"

Asami nodded politely, smile still fresh from seeing a very different side to Korra, and Iroh stepped away from Korra to more properly introduce himself—a slight bow of his head and a handshake, as was his custom, and Asami's lips quirked higher at his formality.

"Nice to meet you, Iroh," she greeted softly.

"Likewise," Iroh nodded, again. "Asami."

Korra paused, watching the two of them very carefully.

"Ahh," Tenzin murmured, looking out toward the field again. "Looks like the men are nearing the finish. Let's make our way towards them, shall we?"

Asami lit up at the news, and immediately jogged in tandem with Tenzin toward the chute. Korra longed to rush off along beside them, but didn't dare leave Iroh's side, and he seemed to sense her conflict perfectly.

"You can run off to your friends," he told her jokingly, as if the idea of him having to allow her permission for anything was ludicrous. "I'm not going anywhere."

Korra beamed up at him, once again struck by just how happy she was, and how grateful she was, for everything.

"Oh, and Korra," Iroh added, just as Korra was about to turn on her heels and return to the others. "You should of course feel free to invite your friends to dinner tonight as well."

Korra paused. It was was a very Iroh-typical thing to say, and a very gracious—perhaps expected?—gesture, but there was something about his... tone.

Realization bloomed, easy and satisfying.

"Iroh," she said slowly, through a smirk.

His eyes jumped back to hers—When had they looked away?—and Korra's smile only grew wider as his, predictably, faltered; she knew exactly where he'd been looking. Or rather... at whom.

"Iroh," she repeated, a new layer of stunned approval in her voice.

"What?" he demanded, as close to a snap as was physically possible from him; he looked appropriately wary. Like Meelo does when he gets caught with his hand in the cookie jar...

"How very thoughtful of you, to invite my friends," she noted. "Very... polite."

Iroh frowned, strong chin growing all the more pronounced. Standing tall and proud and strong, he gently defended, "It is in my nature to be polite."

"Yeah, see—that's funny, because I actually have a feeling about your nature."

Confused, Iroh merely looked at her. She pointed her gaze toward a certain Fire Fox captain, then back, and waggled her brows. Realization struck.

He looked mildly mortified.

"Korra."

"What?" she asked, innocently.

His eyes narrowed. "You are scheming," he chided.

"I don't scheme."

"You always scheme."

"Not anymore," she glibly replied. "Haven't you heard? Things have changed since I got here. I've turned over a new leaf. In fact, I've turned over a leaf so thoroughly I might as well have actually become the leaf. I am the leaf. Be the leaf, Iroh."

"You got that from Meelo," he frowned. "Didn't you?"

"Doesn't make it any less true."

"It doesn't make any more sense, either."

"I'm sure it makes sense to Asami. You could ask her about it. I'm sure Asami knows all about being the leaf."

"Korra."

"Really. I'm sure she'd be happy to—"

"Korra!" called Asami, waving a hand from so many yards away. "Come on!"

She turned back to Iroh with a devilish grin, and he looked down at her with great wariness, as he should.

"Don't worry," she warned before she dashed off, through a smile so bright it nearly burned. "This isn't over yet."

Korra couldn't recall ever feeling this blindingly happy before.

Seeing her whole family gathered around the finish line—Asami, Bolin, Tenzin and Pema, the kids, Uncle Bumi and Iroh!—feeling the comfort of a fresh t-shirt and a warm hoodie after a good race, and seeing the friendly smiles of so many people all at once—some she knew, some she didn't. The day was overcast, but small patches of sunlight would occasionally touch her face through the passing of soft, gray clouds, and the morning fog had lifted to reveal a crisp, cool world beneath, a stark contrast of sharp colors against a muted sky. The world seem enhanced and new, and though the autumn leaves were mostly gone in the wake of approaching winter, the trees around her hardly seemed bereft.

And the best part, Korra decided, was that the best had yet to come.

"Wait a minute," Korra hesitated, eyeing the field with mild suspicion. "What the hell is this?"

Asami looked to Korra in surprise. It was cold in the bleacher stands, even with her underarmour leggings still on, as well as her headband and all the layers beneath a thick hoodie; it was still cold, even while being sandwiched between two veritable human-furnaces.

"What do you mean?" Asami asked curiously.

Korra was still glaring at the field and the two teams that had flooded out onto it. "This isn't football," Korra declared, voice nearly lost in the deafening cheers surging all around them. She was starting to feel herself grow truly irritated by the sight before her. What's with all the damn shoulder pads?

"Um," Bolin squinted. "We know our team isn't like, super good, but they're not... that bad."

"No," Korra rushed out quickly, head shaking with her poor attempt at explanation. "It's not that, it's—this isn't football."

"Um."

"Wait a minute," Asami hissed, seizing up with realization—and maybe a tad literally, too; Bolin had to hold tighter to the styrofoam cup of hot chocolate between his gloves, for Asami's elbow nearly knocked it over. "I think I know what's going on here."

As soon as she'd said the words, Bolin's eyes lit with understanding as well. "Oh, man," he ground out, half-relief, half-disbelief. "I can't believe we didn't catch this before. Sorry, Korra—what you call football, we call soccer."

"What the hell is soccer?"

"It's football," said Bolin.

Korra looked at him like he was insane. "No," she insisted. "It's not."

"No—this is our football," Bolin tried again. "Your football is our soccer."

"Then what the hell is this?"

"Football."

"I give up."

Bolin's face was still contorted with helpless confusion when Asami leaned over and laughed. "Here, Korra," she offered between breathless giggles. "Let me explain."

The rules were easy enough to pick up, and by the end of the first quarter, Korra was following along with ease. She'd always been a quick study, and had always found herself favorable towards contact sports—even if she wasn't always allowed to play them. (It's not you I'm worried about, her father had argued, perhaps reasonably.) It wasn't quite the game she'd been expecting, but it was enjoyable all the same, and that probably had a great deal to do with the company.

Every so often, Korra would find her gaze slinking down toward the lower end of the bleachers, where Mako sat with another small group of teammates. She'd never thought him to be particularly close with anyone but his brother... But I guess he doesn't have much of an option at the moment, she acknowledged wearily.

"Just give him some time," Bolin said quietly, startling Korra all the same. She looked up, more than a tad guiltily, yet Bolin's knowing smile was anything but judgmental. "He'll probably be mad for a while, yeah, but... He'll come around. Eventually."

Korra stole one more glance down toward the back of Mako's head, and wondered if he could feel her eyes on him. "I'm not so sure," she admitted. "But I hope you're right."

"Don't worry," Bolin winked. "I'm an expert in smoothing Mako's ruffled feathers."

Korra snorted. "Yeah. Okay."

"Bolin," Asami began, with a soothing tone meant to allay his sudden bout of offended confusion. "You know that Mako could never stay mad at you for very long. Not really."

"Yeah. What she said," Korra added with a gentle smirk, grateful that Asami was once again capable of finding the right words that would get her message clear across and manage to not piss anybody off. (She'd never had too much trouble with the former, until recently. And she'd always known that the latter held some room for improvement, as the White Lotus Coalition leader would say, but it seemed that she still had plenty of room to grow—on all fronts. What can I say? Korra smiled to herself, amused. I'm a work in progress.)

Bolin's expression softened, as Korra knew it would, but he smiled wryly and gently shook his head. "I don't know," he claimed with an easy tone. "I've done plenty of pretty diabolical things in my lifetime."

"You should make us a list," Korra demanded with a smile.

"You know what? Maybe I should."

The game continued in relative quiet for some minutes then, as Bolin sipped his hot chocolate between plays and Asami occasionally waved to other people in the stands. Korra had finished her own hot chocolate before the first play had actually begun and, unfortunately for Asami, people around here were still learning that they shouldn't offer to share what was left of their warm chocolate beverages unless they were actually okay with relinquishing them entirely. To Korra's stomach.

"Should you go sit with him, maybe?" Korra wondered aloud, surprising them all.

Bolin blinked at her question, then frowned thoughtfully. His gaze was set on the field, seeing yet unseeing. "Nah," he said softly, finally. "He's pretty mad at all of us right now, actually," he admitted. It was certainly no news to Korra, but hearing it out loud didn't make it hurt any less. "I've been getting a pretty cold shoulder at home, and I think he could use a break after the meet today. We sat on the bus together and we sort of talked this morning, but... Yeah. I think he could just use some space."

Korra knew she shouldn't be nosy, and that she didn't really have any right to ask—

"What did you guys say to one another?" she asked quietly.

If Asami had stepped in, she would have backed off; Korra's moral compass hadn't always pointed due north, but she felt like she was getting the hang of it more and more each day, even if she didn't always actually follow it. Asami was usually a little better at listening to her conscience but this time, it seemed, Asami was just as curious as Korra was. For better or worse.

Bolin shrugged, seemingly less bothered by Korra's intrusive question and more at a loss on what there was even to say. "I don't know," he shrugged again, lips pursing in thought. He took a sip of his hot chocolate and said, "I asked if we were gonna be all right."

Korra's lips parted, and she could see from the corner of her eye when Asami's brow furrowed.

"What did he say?"

The edge seemed to melt away from Bolin's expression, and when he shrugged the third time, it seemed an easier gesture, like the weight on his shoulders wasn't quite so heavy. "Of course we are," he replied simply, lips quirking slightly at the grand mess of it all, as if he were laughing at the sheer nature of such a simple, complicated solution. "We're brothers."

A little gratefully, Korra smiled, too.

"All right—what the hell is with this beeping?"

Asami looked over at Korra in alarm. As did a number of other nearby game-watchers. "What are you talking about?" Asami leaned over, lowering her voice—a subtle hint that Korra may or may not have been prepared to take. "I don't hear any beeping."

"It's my damn phone!" Korra hissed in frustration, pulling it out of her pocket to show Asami. "It's been beeping all day and I can't get it to stop."

"Is the battery low?" Bolin asked, peering down briefly at the phone in her grasp, then back up at the game.

"It shouldn't be," Korra said a little testily, passing it off to Asami, who inspected her screen with a critical eye. "I charged it last night."

"Well, that's the problem with cellphones these days," Bolin decreed. "They're like energy-sucking parasites."

Korra agreed, but Bolin wasn't really paying any attention, so she watched Asami examine her phone instead. "I don't get it. I don't have very many fancy things on there, just the basics like texting and phone calls and stuff. And I'm not very good at checking my voicemail, but it never—"

"Korra," Asami said suddenly, fingers stilling over the screen. "Did you know that you have two unread text messages?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Look," Asami directed, holding out the phone for Korra to see. And sure enough—they were there. Two unopened messages. What the hell?

"Ohh, juicy," Bolin commented from the side, peering over Korra's shoulder to get a better look. "Who're they from?" Korra snatched the phone away, mostly on a matter of principle.

"Oh, now you're interested in the big beeping mystery, are you?"

"Life is a big beeping mystery, Korra."

"Shut up and drink your hot chocolate," Korra commanded, bumping his shoulder with hers.

"What—before you do?"

"Hey!" she cried, face flushing. "I said I was sorry! And that I'd get her another one!"

"Likely story," Bolin replied skeptically, quirking a single brow almost comically over the lid of his to-go cup as he took a slow sip. Korra didn't think she remembered Bolin ever being quite this much of an instigator before.

"Ah," Asami breathed, then sidled closer to Korra's hips along the metal bleacher seat. Korra watched her warily, feeling rather ridiculously as if her captain had transformed into something of a cat; slow-moving and steady, all patience and underlying motive, ready to pounce. "Speaking of stories..."

Korra glared at each of them in turn, feeling far more outnumbered than she truly was. "I'm not sure I like this turn of events," Korra replied slowly.

"Would you like it better if I grew a mustache?"

"Bolin, what?" Asami blanched, eyeing him with disbelief. And maybe a little concern.

"What? I've actually been considering growing one for quite some time now. Everybody likes a mustache once in a while."

More gently than Korra could ever credit her for, Asami slowly pursed her lips and ordered, "Define... everybody."

"Wait a minute," Korra whispered, staring down at her phone in confusion. Surprised, both Asami and Bolin turned back towards her, all mention of mustaches momentarily forgotten. Korra looked again, just to be sure. "These messages were sent Thursday."

"Damn," Bolin muttered. "And I thought you took forever to answer my messages." He blinked. "Wait a minute. Those aren't my messages—right?"

"I..." Korra licked her lips, staring at the unopened texts, which started up at her from her inbox, blinking relentlessly. "They're from Tahno."

Their eyes widened. "Whoah!" Bolin breathed, nearly losing his grip on his hot chocolate. "How in the hell did you miss those?"

Indignation rose up within her, but Korra was still too surprised to really process much of anything. "I didn't!" she defended immediately, feeling her head start to hurt. Her chest grew tight and her heart started doing weird things in its ribcage and her mouth felt terribly, terribly dry. "At least—I didn't think I—I don't know!" she snapped, lowering her voice in frustration.

"What time did he send them?" Asami asked eagerly, and the combination of her edginess with Bolin's edginess was enough to make Korra feel like she was standing at the literal edge of a proverbial cliff.

"It says right before five," Korra muttered, staring at the timestamp in dismay. "But I saw the ones he sent later that night," Korra argued, to no one in particular. "I actually responded to those. That's when I told him not to text me at all."

"Ouch," Bolin muttered. Korra sent him a glare. "Sorry," he winced.

"So what do they say?" Asami asked, plowing forward.

Korra was suddenly very afraid to look.

"Bolin," Asami hissed, startling him. When his eyes dragged themselves away from Korra's phone, Asami pointedly looked toward the field. The message was clear, and he followed her example. Even if he pouted, a little.

Korra smiled wanly at the two of them, thankful of their small attempts at giving her a bit of privacy, but if anything, they only made her more nervous. (What had the two of them been arguing about, around that time? What had she even said to him then?) She'd been on her way home with Mako, Korra remembered, as her stomach gave a painful lurch. (She'd just come to terms with everything—and now she wanted to mess all of that up? Right when things were finally starting to come together? When she was starting to feel happy?) A wave of warmth flooded over her, coating her cheeks and filling her chest. It spread to her fingers, down into her very bones. (That wasn't quite right, she realized, as a flash of a smile flitted through her mind, easy and relaxed—so unlike what normally crossed his features—and for you, something whispered, before she crushed it.)

(Was it something that he would even want her to see—now?

After everything that had happened?)

Brow pinched in thought, lower lip caught between her teeth in deliberation, Korra stared down at her unread text messages and acknowledged, however reluctantly, that, relatively speaking—

Her happiness had not started only today.

From: 1-617-xxx-xxxx
I don't even know if you're gonna read this, but I don't know how else to get you to listen, so I guess it's worth a shot. I'm sorry about Tuesday. I was angry, but it wasn't actually you I was angry with. For the most part. It's just that you're sort of the only person I've got who I can count on not to judge me for shit, and I guess I sort of... let myself get carried away. Not that that's much of a guess. Because I did. I shouldn't have lashed out at you. Or expected you to still want to stick around, afterwards.

I get that you're still angry and I can't really blame you. I'm still not really sure what happened last Friday, but honestly I don't even really care at this point. And this isn't even about what happened last Saturday or the rivalry or any of that shit, because it's never been about any of that. I just want to say I'm sorry.
Received: Thursday, Oct 24 4:47pm

Korra's eyes scoured the screen. She had to read it three times for any of it to sink in, and even then, she still felt like the words were slipping through her mind, like water through her fingers. She didn't know what to feel.

She read the message again, slowly, taking in each word. If she tried hard enough—which wasn't very hard at all—she could hear it in his voice, over and over. She was startled to realize that she knew the exact intonation of each syllable, that she could hear the same breath of pause during each read, in the exact same spots, like a memory. Korra swallowed, frowning down at the open message, seeing it without really seeing it, and remembered the night before, in the car. It felt like a lifetime ago. (And yet—)

Korra snapped her head up toward the field, shielding the screen from view with her glove. Get a hold of yourself, her mind hissed, as a familiar burn made her eyes itch. Korra stared determinedly ahead for a few minutes, acutely aware of all that was around her—Bolin and Asami sitting beside her in silence, rife with anticipation, the loud cheers and groans from the surrounding crowd—and yet oblivious to everything, everything but the awful pounding of her heart.

Dammit, she hissed, and glanced down at the phone once more. She couldn't read the message again—not yet—but she bit her lip and simply looked at it, at the seemingly unidentified caller and the innocuous timestamp, and wondered about the stories that numbers could tell. (The lonely feeling of zero. The bittersweet victory of seventh.Numbers like rank and time and placement, and personal records.) Her thumb swiped down across the screen by accident, and Korra watched as the image flashed and changed, and her heart dropped into her stomach as the other unopened message appeared, and she stared, lips parted and heart aching, because all it said was, And I miss you.

A lot.

"Korra?" Asami prompted gently, noticing her dismay. A hand appeared on her shoulder, warm and small, but Korra barely felt it. "Are you okay?"

Bolin was eyeing her curiously as well, and was even making a valiant effort to not glance at her phone, so concerned was he. They were both clearly worried, and Korra was once again so overcome with affection for each of them that she could have cried—if she weren't so dangerously close to laughing.

"Asami, I need a favor," Korra said suddenly, voice surprisingly even.

"Um," Asami frowned, obviously not having heard what she expected. "Sure."

Korra turned bright eyes on startled ones, and at once tried to hold back both a grimace and a smirk. It seems there'll be a few things I have to make up for today, she thought. And she wasn't so sure another round of hot chocolate would cut it.

"My cousin Iroh is supposed to pick us all up at the end of the game to take us back to my uncle's before we go to dinner, but he doesn't have a cellphone anymore, since he's only on leave," Korra explained, and Asami nodded somewhat impatiently, as if uncertain as to why a reminder was in store. Korra took a deep breath and said, "I need you, specifically, to explain to Iroh that I'm not gonna be here, but that I'll be back in a few hours, and not to worry."

"Um—what?" Bolin sputtered, and when he looked at her like she was crazy, Korra felt like she truly deserved it; she didn't mind at all. "Korra, wait," Bolin insisted. "Can't you just text your uncle?"

"And more importantly," Asami cut in, growing increasingly suspicious. "Where are you planning on going?"

Korra merely smirked. Abruptly, she stood and stepped over Bolin's legs, mindful not to spill his hot chocolate, and started off toward the aisle. Without pausing, she turned her head over her shoulder and said, "I gotta run."

"Whaa—wait!" Asami cried in surprise, eyes going round with disbelief. "You're not actually going to run? What—are we supposed to just—to just hang out with your poor cousin all afternoon?"

Korra sent a smirk over her shoulder, mischievous and meaningful. Asami's eyes narrowed.

Oh, yeah—she was definitely going to need more than just a replacement hot chocolate or two.

"Korra!"

And as her feet took off down the aisle, Korra distinctly thought she heard Bolin say, "Oh, snap."

In retrospect, this had seemed like a much better idea in her head.

Korra fell forward, hands bracing against her knees as she took another mighty gasp of air. It was hot and sticky inside of her hoodie—so much for a fresh t-shirt—and her hands were a little cold without her running gloves, but that was really the last of her concerns. She was pretty sure this was the street she was supposed to be on, but they all looked the same—and she'd only been there once—and she didn't even know the address, to be honest.

For all of Korra's experience and natural ability, her sense of direction was actually usually hit-or-miss; it was her tracking abilities that saved the day more often than not, and pure survival instinct, but neither of those were going to be of much use in a place like—

Ah, Korra caught sight of a familiar street sign, and breathed a sigh of relief. There we go. Sort-of-familiar brick buildings, blocks lined with sapling trees, and the feeling that these foundations were a lot older than she was; Korra jogged along the neighborhood sidewalk, slowing her pace to take a closer look at the numbers drilled into the door frames. There weren't very many people out and about, though a steady stream of cars trickled up and down the street, radios blaring high through closed-off windows. Her muscles were sort of achy, in the way that a slow burn crept into each step, that a warm tenderness made itself known to each stride, to each start and stop. Korra nearly stumbled twice, both times having believed that she'd spotted the same dark window shutters and red bricks, but to no avail.

When Korra started to seriously wonder whether she'd actually gone to the right neighborhood after all, she spotted it.

Her sneakers scuffed along the cement, coated with dirt and dust and bits of twigs and leaves, and Korra looked up, heart pounding; the same stoop, the same shutters, the same empty flower pots on either side of the door. For a split second, Korra was overcome with an overwhelming bout of fear. What the hell am I doing? she wondered, feeling her stomach flip. Showing up at his apartment, unannounced. No warning whatsoever. She hadn't even called.

Feeling her knees go a little shaky, Korra took a careful step up onto the first stair, and then onto the next. It was apartment number two, she remembered now, and before she could rethink anything, she pressed the buzzer, quick and firm and hopeful. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, exactly, and as another brief swell of nerves knotted in her stomach—she held her breath, afraid that he might have been able to hear her, through the intercom—she glanced anxiously at the box for a camera, like they sometimes showed in movies, then panicked, thinking that maybe she should have stepped away and out of sight, lest he saw her and refused to open the door. (Would he do that? she wondered.) She didn't know.

No one answered.

A minute went by, and Korra tried not to think too hard about it. Two minutes went by, and Korra was forced to face the truth. Looks like... no one's home?

Korra glanced up at the apartments above, seeking out the windows that she knew were his. It was difficult to see from her angle on the stoop, so she backpedaled down to the sidewalk to get a better look; sure enough, the window blinds were all drawn.

Refusing to give up, Korra pulled the cellphone from her pocket and dialed a number she never thought she'd be calling again. It was difficult to find in her contacts—until she remembered that she'd deleted him—and then with a few more quick presses of buttons and another pang in her heart, Korra held the earpiece to her phone, and waited. The blinds behind the window didn't move.

Korra tried twice, then decided that it was no use.

"Great," she muttered to herself, glaring at the cracks in the old sidewalk cement. "Now what?"

If he wasn't home (and he wasn't, she decided, because he wouldn't have just ignored her at the door—right?) and if he wasn't answering his phone, and if he hadn't gone to the meet that morning, then where the hell could he have gone?

There were plenty of bars and taverns along the edge of the marina, but it wasn't hard to find the place where Narook worked; it was the only with his name on it, after all.

"Korra," Narook said pleasantly, blinking with surprise as she approached him at the empty bar. "What on earth are you doing all the way over here?"

Belatedly, it occurred to her that she might not have technically been allowed in that section of the restaurant... Oops. What's the drinking age here, again? Whatever. She wasn't looking to buy a drink.

"I'm—I'm looking for Tahno," she said simply, flushing unexpectedly. Great, her mind sniped; apparently, running all over town in a wild goose chase was only embarrassing when she admitted to it out loud. "Do you know where I could find him?" she asked, before any more of those thoughts could make her lose her nerve.

Narook paused, eyeing her keenly. With a lingering look at her dirtied shoes, he asked, "Didn't you have a meet today?"

Yikes, Korra thought, as embarrassment flooded through her once more. Score one for the involved and in-the-know foster guardian... "I got a ride," she lied, and though she was whole-heartedly convinced that he was anything but fooled, he didn't call her out on it.

Narook merely set his dishcloth aside and spread his palms wide along the bar, frowning thoughtfully. "Sorry, Korra," he said. "But I don't have any more of an idea of where he is than you do."

Korra stilled, stomach dropping. "What?" she asked.

"Oh, he'll be back in time for dinner, I'm sure—but that boy never runs with his phone."

She stared. "Run?" Korra echoed after a long moment, aghast. "He's—he's on a run right now?"

An alarm rang through the kitchens, sounding out a muffled alert to the bar and beyond, and signaling the end to some kind of timer. Narook peered toward the back of the restaurant over his shoulder, and the two of them watched as some of the kitchen staff set to scurrying about, then Narook casually took hold of his rag andresumed his drying. "He was out this morning, came back long enough to eat, then left again around an hour ago, just before I did," he told her, glancing up only briefly as he carefully scrubbed the bar. "I don't know long he was planning to stay out, but I wouldn't bet on him coming back anytime soon."

Korra was still reeling with shock. She swallowed hard. "But—he hasn't run, in like..."

Narook sent her a wry smile. "So you can imagine," he told her. "He might take his time."

Korra let that sink in. Shit, she thought. He could be anywhere.

But this couldn't wait.

"If for some reason he stops by here, could you please let him know that I'm looking for him?" Korra asked, trying her best hand at politeness. She didn't know what Narook knew about their relationship—er, or the end of it, rather—but she was running out of options. And she trusted Narook. Even if he was technically supposed to be on Tahno's side, simply on principle. And Korra was not necessarily into bribery, per se, but—just for good measure—she threw in: "I promise there'll be a nice, big gift basket of South American coffee in the end."

Narook offered her a knowing grin, admittedly looking a little amused. "I am always favorable to coffee," he said agreeably.

Korra smiled gratefully, feeling more than a little amused—frantic—herself, then tried to exit through the main door as gracefully as she could. She got out in one piece but, truth be told, she felt like she was going to fall over. (Speaking of: she didn't know whose bright idea it was to fill so many of this town's parking lots with gravel, but Korra added it to her ever-growing list of Shit That Needs to Change Once I Take Over the World.)

Unlike when she'd left the stoop to Tahno's apartment, Korra did not immediately start to run as she headed off toward a new destination; it wasn't entirely that her muscles were sore—although they were—or that she was tired—because she was—but, for reasons that Korra was hesitant to examine too closely, she wasn't so sure that this really was such a good—or even okay—idea, after all.

Korra scuffed her sneakers along the dirt road, veering away from the strip of lakeside venues and toward the long, curving stretch that eventually led to the main road. She could taste the scent on the lake on the wind, the sharp smell of alcohol and warm, smokey flavors of the local grilles, and thought about what Bolin and Asami might be doing at that moment, and whether or not Iroh had successfully retrieved them. She imagined that they were warm in her uncle's kitchen, sipping Iroh's famous-brewed tea, no doubt commiserating over her impetuousness and her really inconvenient lack of explanations. She hoped that by now Bolin and Jinora had discovered that they shared the same favorite book series, even without her help; she hoped that Iroh and Asami were doing—a hell of a lot—more than just staring at each other and making awkward smalltalk.

This was stupid.

(What if he didn't want to see her at all? What if he'd gone to a friend's house or something?) Korra kicked morosely at a pebble, and frowned at the ground, dragging her feet along the dirt. Now that she'd slowed down—lost her momentum—she had time to think about all the things she'd ignored in favor of running on pure instinct alone. (He had friends, right? The two guys from the meets? They'd talked about it before—or, at least, Korra thought they had. That's what they were, right? His friends?) Was any of this—how he was doing, who he ran with, or who he ran to—really any of her business? (We shouldn't see each other anymore.) Did she really have any right to try to talk to him? To go after him?

What would it have been like? she wondered. If things hadn't gotten so screwed up? Would they have been on another run together, right in that moment? He would have done well at today's race, she bet, as her stomach sank. (Maybe things with Mako would have fizzled out on their own, and she would have wizened up enough to actually confront her feelings, and she would have figured it all out—sooner. Maybe—after going out on the date that never was—she would have had the courage to actually approach him at today's meet, after his race, to stick it to the rivalry and congratulate him, right there in front of everyone. Or tease him. Or maybe both.) She could have introduced him to Iroh and Uncle Bumi afterwards, and then they could have left together, gone off for a quick cool-down through the gorge—the world all to themselves—and he'd have driven her home, and she would have invited him to stay. That was how it should have gone.

Shuffling her feet along the pavement—oh, the main road—Korra slipped her phone out of her pocket and checked it once more. (A few expected messages from Asami, a disturbing number from Iroh, and only one from Bolin.) She stuffed it away with a sigh, wondering why she'd been expecting anything different. Her embarrassment and shame were beginning to rear their ugly heads once more, and Korra determinedly stamped them down, but they were growing harder and harder to fight. Feeling thoroughly discouraged, Korra wondered if maybe she should just go home.

She came to a stop.

"Stupid," Korra whispered beneath her breath, and felt a new, impatient burn flood her veins—adrenaline, and chemicals, and determination, and something not so easily described; the makings of a killer second wind. "What the hell are you thinking?"

She hadn't called him after the White Falls meet, and she should have; she should have told him right away that she knew he hadn't cheated, and she should have been there for him when he needed her. She should have told him how she felt about him earlier, before everything blew up in their faces, and hell if she was just going to lie down and let things dissolve all over again. She was going to fix things this time.

She wasn't going to make the same mistakes again.

Wait a minute, Korra's eyes darted up and glanced around at the surrounding trees. White Falls.

It was nearby, wasn't it? Korra looked at the surrounding trees with renewed interest. If the lake met the mouth of the gorge... The entrance should be right around here!

Korra took off down the road, expression fierce and heart drumming to the cadence of her stride, the bare branches of trees beckoning to her as she flew past.

And she would deny it later—with every fiber of her being—but Korra broke into a waterfall sanctuary for the second time in her life that day, and she didn't regret one second of it.

Besides. She would pay the state park toll someday.

Eventually.

She stayed away from the mouth of the gorge—partly due to the ticket booth, but mostly because she figured he would steer clear of that, too—and she passed through most of glen's trail, taking time to slow her pace as she came across the more slippery stones. She didn't go anywhere close to the campgrounds, instead choosing to cut back through the path he'd shown her however many days before, and then down the trail through the woods, where naked bark and small game reigned supreme. Leaves littered the ground, covering more of the earth than the branches above, and the chill in the air hinted at the promise of evening rain. Korra was a little cold, but she kept pushing. He could be anywhere, and she'd looked every—

It occurred to her that there was still one place she'd yet to look.

The arboretum.

Korra's heart stuttered in her chest, breaking her stride. She stumbled over a root, but then drove her knees forward, blinking away the doubt; her face pinched with uncertainty, even as she valiantly tried to push the feeling away. There were still too many factors that needed to be considered, none of which were appealing. (She'd promised that she'd find another place to run... So would that be the first place he'd go—because he wanted to be found? Or because he thought she wouldn't be there, as per her promise, and didn't want to see her, after all? She couldn't handle the idea of it being the latter. And maybe, she reasoned, maybe he wasn't there at all.) But she hoped that, somehow, he'd know her well enough to know that she'd come looking for him—well. Actually. She hadn't actually known that she was going to come looking for him until forty minutes prior, so if he did know, then that probably meant that he knew her better than herself and that was just... that was...

Too much to hope for.

"Shut the fuck up and run," she breathed, and then she did.

"Fuck," she hissed, feeling her dry throat go raw. Too much running. Too much running.

She was afraid to stop again, too—lest her sweat start to cool, lest her chilled skin take in even a little more cold—but she was literally running out of ideas. Her hands were on her knees and she was panting hard in the middle of the arboretum's deepest trails, and she couldn't very well stop to admire the breath that was curling out into the cold, but maybe—

"Well, look who it is," a voice drawled from above, as Korra's stomach flipped, violently. "If it isn't the Fire Fox... back again."

Korra drew in a sharp breath as her eyes darted above, and her heart nearly burst from her chest when she spotted him, casually sat on one of the thick branches ten-or-so feet into the air, back leaning against the thick trunk. His legs were extended over the bark as if it were his favorite recliner, and she nearly died.

"Tahno!" she called breathlessly, startled, and then, "What the hell are you doing up there?"

Tahno shifted forward, ever-so-slightly; he looked far more comfortable perched atop that branch than she thought he had any right to be, and she began to wonder quite seriously if he'd lost his damn mind, and her heart squeezed so painfully at the sight of him—cold and unaffected, brash and harsh and aloof—that she certainly must have lost hers, when she realized—hey, that... that tree is sort of familiar. Her eyes widened as recognition crept in. That wasn't just any tree.

That was their tree.

"Knitting a scarf," he scoffed derisively, as Korra's chest filled with hope. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

That's our tree; he'd come back to the tree where she'd first hid from him, during their first wild goose chase three weeks ago, when he was cat and she was mouse, and now it was reversed—and how would he feel, she wondered irrationally, about being compared to a mouse?—and it was too much animal talk again, Korra grinned with amusement, thinking fondly of that precious memory, as a bright smile burst onto her face, glowing and unafraid.

He glared down at her, frowning fiercely, and suspiciously demanded, "What the hell are you so gleeful about?"

She ignored his question, feeling just as lighthearted and optimistic as before—maybe even more so. Korra's gaze traveled appreciatively up the line of the trunk to his perch, and she thought of the journey he must have taken to conquer it. "You didn't die," she noted with a pointed nod of her head, with admiration and surprise.

"Disappointed?"

Korra's smile faltered; this wasn't exactly how she'd wanted to start things off. He's still angry, Korra reminded herself. And he has a right to be. Korra was so happy she was practically bursting at the seams, but if she wanted any actual chance of getting through to him, she had to reel it in. She swallowed and licked her lips, suddenly overcome with just how lost she was with words, and how stupid words were, and why did people even need them, honestly, when she knew—through experience, through life, through multilingual dreams—that actions spoke so much louder than—

That's it, Korra thought, as she looked up at him in their tree. Action. That, she could do. Korra happened to be a woman of action.

He scoffed at her silence. "What do you want?" he snapped harshly.

She snapped upright, and determination stitched itself into her bones, steeling her nerves. "I want to talk to you," she admitted, stepping closer.

Korra could sense the eye roll, even if she couldn't really see it. Sarcastic and cutting, Tahno turned his head dismissively and called down, "I thought that door had closed."

"So reopen it," Korra argued, feeling a bit impatient despite her best intentions.

"Sorry," Tahno huffed. "Locked."

Korra scowled. All right, she huffed in frustration, crossing her arms and feeling her heels dig resolutely into the ground. I guess I deserve this. A lot.

A thought occurred to her.

"You're seriously not going to come down?" she called, trying to keep the hard, impatient edge in her voice so he wouldn't realize, just yet, that she essentially had him cornered. He didn't answer her.

So she started to climb.

"What are you doing?" he barked down, and Korra swore she heard the tiniest trace of panic in his voice.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she snapped, biting down her smirk.

"Don't be stupid," he snapped, harsh and impatient. "You'll break your neck."

She huffed with offense. Yeah, right. She reached for another knot with ease, and lifted herself higher onto the tree trunk with fluid grace. "Did you forget who climbed this tree first?"

Tahno's face tightened into something unreadable, and with a huff, he looked away. "Yeah, right," she thought she heard him mutter.

When she reached the branch sitting five feet directly below his, she came to a stop, waiting for him to react. He was doing very well at refusing to look at her, unfortunately. All right, Korra. Gently. Gently, now—

"Make room," she ordered.

Aw, shit.

Tahno gave her a nasty look. "No fucking way," he sniped. "You're in an arboretum. Go find your own damn tree."

Korra heaved a loud sigh, her whole chest expanding with the force of her breath, and she tilted her head all the way up to better glare at him. He wasn't looking.

"Fine, then," she muttered, and sidestepped farther out onto the branch.

"What—what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The soles of Korra's feet balanced on the branch below, considerably thinned from where it sprang from the trunk, and with a focused gaze and a calculated jump, she launched herself upwards, taking hold of Tahno's branch with both hands and hitching her leg up and over the thick tree limb, using the momentum and her strength to shift her weight upward and swing her leg down over the other side, until she was straddling the branch at the end of Tahno's feet, simply facing him. She allowed herself a single smirk.

Tahno, on the other hand, was frowning rather severely, and had both hands clutching at the trunk behind him, which was nearly flush with his back. The hood of his gray sweatshirt had fallen to the side, laying haphazardly over his shoulder, and from this angle, Korra could see something that she couldn't see from the ground: Ouch, she thought, wincing slightly at the sight of of a dark bruise below his left eye. I should apologize for that. Again.

Aside from that, Korra decided he looked so much better in the light of day, so much different from the night before with his wind-flushed cheeks and his sharp jaw and dark, wavy hair—tangled, but full and thick and healthy—and she didn't even realize she was inching forward until he started backing himself even closer against the tree. His knees were bent now, the soles of his sneakers flat against the broken bark, and she was barely three feet away, but he looked prepared to jump if it meant escaping her insanity and Jesus, I forgot how much of a drama queen he can be.

"What the hell?" she whispered, before she could check herself.

"Are—are you serious?" Tahno spat, eyes narrowing with anger and disbelief. "Like you have any fucking right to act so surprised."

Korra bit her cheek, frowning thoughtfully. He needs to get it out, Korra remembered. You have to let him get it out, she told herself. She could do that. Right. She could do that.

"Tahno," she tried, softly and with all the sincerity she could muster, but, as expected—

"No," he insisted immediately, harshly, though Korra didn't miss the way his fingers clutched more desperately at the bark behind him. "No. I'm done playing your fucked-up mind games."

Korra sat up at that. Hey, now—

"You think you can just waltz up here and pretend like everything's okay again?" he nearly snarled. "Like I'm your little running buddy you can just wind up whenever you please?"

Korra frowned, fingers holding more tightly to the branch beneath her. "I never—"

"You gonna try to pretend that you didn't essentially tell me to fuck off last night?"

"I didn't—"

"Or kick me while I was down?"

"Tahno—I'm sorry!" she snapped, and inwardly cursed when her voice cracked. She took a few steadying breaths in the following silence, then repeated, "I'm sorry, all right?"

But Tahno wasn't convinced. She waited as he considered her for a few moments, then watched as he set his jaw, solid and firm. "What happened to all that crap about you leaving at the end of the year?" he scoffed. "What—suddenly none of that matters to you anymore?"

Korra stared him, more hurt by the coolness in his eyes than she'd have liked to admit—and honestly more than she thought she really had any right to be. It took her a few seconds to pull herself together.

"It matters a lot, actually," she quietly revealed, licking her dry, cracking lips.. "I just... realized I don't want to go the next ten months just—I don't know. Waving to you. Or pretending you were just somebody to run with."

Tahno stared at her for a long moment, then abruptly turned away. (She half-expected him to ask, So what am I really, then? But he didn't.) His eyes were on the ground. "What about all that shit about not being able to trust me?" he asked, clearly and pointedly. "About not wanting to get hurt, or whatever."

Korra's shoulders shrugged, slow and heavy. "I don't know," she whispered lamely, and then, "It still hurt pretty badly last night."

Tahno looked at her. There was something much different about it this time, the way he looked at her. Like he was really looking at her again.

"You can't just jerk me around," Tahno said seriously.

Korra's heart stuttered in her chest. "I know," she whispered.

Tahno bit his cheek, and Korra swallowed. A few beats passed, the silence ringing in her ears, and then: "You gotta make up your damn mind," he said shortly, face stern.

"I know," she echoed.

"I'm not just—some random guy who's gonna—"

"I know!" she snapped, a little loudly. A sigh, and then, more softly, "I know."

Tahno bit his lip, and for chrissake, what else do I have to do to—?

"What if I said I didn't want to anymore?" he asked her, expression still deathly serious. "To see you. That I've had enough?"

Korra frowned. "Now who's jerking who around?" she muttered darkly.

"It would be within my rights," he argued.

"It would certainly be within your character."

"Hey," Tahno snapped, leaning forward slightly. "I put my ass out on the line for you—on multiple occasions. I didn't expect anything in return—"

"Oh, yeah," Korra scoffed. "Right."

"I didn't," he snapped, and for some reason, in that moment, Korra believed him. She looked very carefully at his eyes, at the hard edges and sharp angles of his face, at the bruise she'd left on his cheek. "I did it because I wanted to," he told her, as Korra felt the very air in her lungs go still. And then he shifted, leaning back against the tree once more, and the moment of tension dissipated, leaving her a little empty. "That's about the only reason I'll do anything, anyway."

She watched him for a moment, struggling against the familiar feeling that all of this was slipping through her fingers, and she decided, Enough.

"You like me," Korra said bluntly, staring him straight in the face. "I know you do, even if you haven't said as much. And I still like you."

Tahno glared at her and, after a beat, declared, "It's not that simple."

"It could be," she argued.

His mouth opened, but nothing came out, nothing but a sneer that twisted his face into something ridiculous and ugly and beautiful and incredulous and—whoahhhhh, Korra, time to pull back a little.

"What is your deal?" he demanded, letting his legs drop to either side of the branch so he could lean forward and glare at her more fully.

"What is your deal?" Korra echoed back. "I didn't come all the way out here just to let your pride get in the way!"

"I didn't ask you to come out here at all!" Tahno snapped, voice rising. "You're the one who said you weren't going to run in the arboretum anymore!"

Fuck, Korra's mind spat, as her mind took note of her heavy breathing, of the air struggling to crawl into her lungs. His breaths were getting shorter, too. Fuck. (He really had considered that, then—hadn't he? That she wouldn't come back to this spot, like she promised.) Korra licked her lips, and struggled not to be sick.

Korra looked at him very seriously. "Do you want me to leave?" she asked quietly.

His eyes widened. "I didn't—I didn't fucking say that!"

She scoffed, feeling her hackles raise at his tone. "Then what the hell did you say?" she demanded.

"I said exactly what you fucking said! Last night!"

"Well, you didn't have to fucking say it like that!"

"Like what!"

"Like the way you just fucking said it!"

"Like fucking how?"

"Just forget it!" she snarled. "Why are you making this so fucking difficult?"

"I—I'm the one making this difficult?"

"Yes—you! You wanted things to go back to the way they were when I said what was on my mind and I didn't take anybody's shit—including yours!"

"Oh, wait, you're right—sorry, was that before or after you fucking punched me?"

"Dude," Korra scoffed derisively. "I didn't even hit you that damn hard."

Tahno's jaw dropped, lip curling with indignation. He was a lot closer than Korra remembered him being a few moments ago—a mere foot away, maybe, but she couldn't be sure—and then he jabbed an accusatory finger toward his black eye and spat, "Wanna fucking bet?"

"My fucking grandma could take a hit better than you can, pretty boy," she snarled, and—well, Katara was technically more of a Great Aunt, sort of—but still. Wasn't any less true.

"So what the hell does that mean, then?"

"It means what you think it means! If I wanted to hit you, for real—you couldn't handle it!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Take a second to think about it, pretty boy," she sniped venomously. "Go ahead."

"So, what are you gonna do, hit me again?"

"I wouldn't object," she spat.

"You wanna?" Tahno snapped. "Fine. Go for it. Give me your best shot, little girl. I dare you."

She bristled at the words 'little girl'. Korra's eyes narrowed. "You really wanna give me a free shot?" she challenged, feeling her blood boil.

"As opposed to the cheap ones you normally take?" he spat. Korra actually felt her expression darken. "Like you would. And even if you did, it might actually be considered an impro—"

She hit him.

Off the branch.

(No, really. One second he was there—the next he was floating through the air, tumbling sideways off the bark.)

"—oh! Fu—Tahno!"

He caught onto the branch below at the last moment, skin and fabric skidding across the bark, and—in a stroke of pure luck and maybe some hidden reflexes and muscle memory that she didn't even know existed—he was able to right himself off the lower branch so that he fell to the ground on his feet—and then his knees, and elbows, and wrists—and not his back—or worse, his head—and the next thing Korra knew, she was a hot mess of scrambling limbs as she all but catapulted herself to the ground, landing seamlessly with nimble feet and a quick roll.

When Korra righted herself, he was lying on his back over a sheet of dry, crunchy leaves, and a hand was covering his face, directly below his right eye. Shit, she grimaced, hearing his groan as she crawled over to him. He pushed her hand away when she reached for him and she frowned, because yeah, okay, she totally deserved that, but she was determined.

"Tahno, stop," she hissed quietly, scooting closer to his side. She tried to pry his hand away from his face, but he was a lot stronger than she'd thought. "Tahno—let me—see it."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he groaned, and when she finally wrenched his hand away, she got an eyeful of angry Tahno, of pure insult and indignation and perhaps-understandable-fury. His eyes squinted shut as a particularly sharp throb must have caught up with him, and Korra winced as his fingers gingerly returned to the swelling skin below his other eye—dammit, now his eyes matched—and then he stilled, and looked at her, hovering over him in concern. Korra struggled not to swallow.

His eyes narrowed. "How the hell did you get down here so quick?"

Korra's mouth went dry. "I jumped," she admitted.

Tahno looked at her like she was poison. Maybe she was. "I hate you," he told her.

And yeah, okay, maybe she deserved that, too, and she knew he didn't really mean it—did he?—but it still hurt, all the same.

"I—you were—you should have been holding onto the branch, you dumb fuck!"

Tahno lifted his head up slightly to gape at her. "I was!"

"Well—apparently not fucking well enough!" she argued breathlessly, feeling her face flush with heat. "You should know better than to provoke someone who has openly admitted to having anger management issues!"

"Why are you getting upset?" he demanded, raising himself up onto his elbows through a wince. The leaves crunched beneath them as he shifted up and she shifted back. "You're not the one who was just punched out of a fucking tree!"

"I'm not—I'm sorry, all right? I just—I was—"

"You're a fucking lunatic," he said, chest heaving, glaring at her in morbid awe.

Korra's brows drew downward, and a deep, angry disappointment surged through her. Her stomach was rolling, and her heart was clenching tightly in her chest. "Like you have any right to—"

And then her face was in his hands, pulling her forward—and he was kissing her.

Too shocked to respond, Korra remained frozen, one hand still braced against a layer of leaves from where it'd dropped to catch her fall when he'd yanked her forward, the other still floating somewhere in the air beside him, useless. His torso was at an awkward angle, hips still dug into the ground, shoulders lifted, both hands framing her face—and Korra couldn't move—and when he pulled away slightly, there was something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, a gentle wind of breath on her lips.

"Fucking finally," he whispered against them.

"You..." she breathed. She was possibly broken. "You—"

"You're welcome," he told her. His hands floated down so he brace his weight on his forearms, and something about the movement shocked Korra's brain into realization.

"You... idiot!" she spat, cheeks flaming. "You asshole—I should punch you again for this!"

He actually winced. "Please don't."

"I'm not—I wouldn't really—what the hell was that?"

"What do you think it was?" he jabbed teasingly, in his familiar low tones, gazing up at her, and Korra's stomach actually flipped. "I said I usually got what I wanted, didn't I? And it looks like I caught you. After all."

What the fuck? He'd just fallen out of the tree. There was no actual catching to be had. And if there was, it certainly wouldn't have been on his—

"Dammit," she hissed.

His smirk grew wider. "Remember?"

Of all the—of all the— Her face flushed red. "You just fell out of a tree!" she reminded him.

"Only because you punched me out of it," he muttered, then tenderly rubbed at the soreness beneath his eye. "Yeah, apparently the risk of falling was a bit more likely than I thought."

Korra glowered, but now there was a strange and bubbly sensation expanding in her chest, taking over completely, and she had the incredible feeling that it was about to explode. "Just how long have you been fucking waiting to use that line, exactly?" she snarked.

"Excuse me?"

Another thought occurred to her then, and she leaned closer, nervously examining his face through the bangs that had fallen into her eyes. "Tell me you didn't orchestrate this whole thing."

"Uh—no. Fuck no. Just because I said I was willing to risk falling doesn't mean I actually thought I would. You're hot and all, but crazy, wild huntress girls like you are a dime a dozen."

She punched him again, in the shoulder.

"What the fuck? Would you fucking quit tha—"

Except he didn't get to finish, because Korra didn't let him.

The force of the kiss pushed him back against the ground, although this time Korra was careful to wrap her hand around the back of his skull, much more mindful of gravity. His lips were dry and soft, and he was so warm, and his skin was such a welcome change to the cold bite of air surrounding them. Her knees shifted along the leaves, legs and feet sprawling out to the side as her hip sank into the ground and leaned down to drape her torso over his chest, the side of his ribs pressing into hers, and she parted her lips against his mouth, sliding them against his in all the ways she dared not do the night before, when all it was supposed to have meant was goodbye.

Tahno pushed up against her, lifting his neck and shoulders to follow her when she broke away for breath, reaching his hands into the thick of her hair when she lowered back down, thoroughly ruining the ponytail that was half-destroyed already. The moisture of the cold ground was starting to seep through the fabric at her knees, but his chest was warm beneath her and his hands—

Korra reached up to take hold of one of the wrists by her jaw and slipped it down to the slope of her neck, savoring the warmth of his fingers against her chilled skin. He made a noise from the back of his throat, one that had Korra gasping into his mouth, and she fell forward, pressing more of her weight on top of him as she lost her balance. The hand at her neck slipped into the mess of hair at her nape while the other cupped her face, thumb pressed firmly into her cheek, and Korra's hand slipped onto his chest, splaying over the flats and ridges of muscle beneath her, beneath the warm feel of cotton. Another sound escaped him under the pressure of her hand, and Korra's head grew impossibly dizzy; she had a sneaking suspicion he liked having someone pin him down. She grabbed the hand at her neck and held it to the ground, the heel of her palm digging his wrist into the leaves, her fingers wrapped tightly around, save for her index finger, which fell soft along the calluses of his palm. She meant to trail her fingers down the line of his arm, smoothing out the warm fabric of his hoodie along the way, past his wrists, until—

Korra pulled away, surprised. Tahno huffed a breath in protest, and nodded his chin up at her, but Korra instead focused on what had caught her attention in the first place. She slipped down the sleeve on his left arm, exposing the soft, smooth skin of his wrist to the autumn air, and what rested there.

"You're still wearing my elastic," she noted breathlessly, as objectively as possible.

Tahno twisted his head amidst the crunchy leaves to get a better look. "So I am," he acknowledged casually, in between soft, labored pants. He turned back to her, brows quirked high. "You gonna pry it from my cold, dead hands?"

Korra licked her lips to ease her smile. So melodramatic, she smirked. "Nah," Korra shrugged, feeling rather magnanimous. "You look like you need it more than I do. Hair's looking a little scraggly."

His eyes narrowed. "My hair is fine, thank you," he said, a little coldly. The effect was ultimately lost.

"Not entirely. It's nowhere near up to its usual shine. At least it won't distract me when I run, anymore."

His eyes were smug. "Staring at my hair, are you?"

"At my reflection in your hair."

Tahno smiled.

"Vain," he whispered, and it sounded awfully like an invitation.

But Korra restrained herself, just a moment longer. Biting her lip, she smoothed her thumb over the soft skin of his wrist, just under the elastic band. The catch in his breath sent a thrill through her. "I don't know whether to punch you or kiss you," she whispered.

Tahno's eyes glanced upward, possibly in some silent prayer, or surrender. Either or. Still splayed over the leaves on his back, wrist pinned beneath her grasp, eyes trained on some unknown spirit above, Tahno frowned thoughtfully and slipped a one-shouldered shrug, and said, "Realistically, I'd settle for both at this point."

A slow smile crept over Korra's lips. "You're incredible," she accused.

"Oh, trust me. I'm well awa—"

And—if Korra did say so herself—she was pretty incredible, too.

This was nice.

Granted, Korra realized that they probably should start to get a move on—cooling sweat and hypothermia, and all that—but she liked laying there, tucked against Tahno's warm side on a thick layer of leaves, staring up at the overcast sky overhead. His arm made for a decent pillow, or so she'd decided some minutes before, and his sweatshirt smelled just like the t-shirt she still had hidden away at home. Only better.

"I have a proposal for you," she said suddenly, rolling onto her stomach so she could see his face. The arm that had so graciously served as her pillow curled around her, and the warm hand came to rest on the small of her back, sending butterflies all over.

A single brow quirked. "Well, this is moving quickly," he commented.

She swatted his shoulder—not too hard—just enough to keep him in line. Sort of.

"What?" he asked, all mock-innocence. "Based on the pace of the last month or so, I'd say we are now moving at lightning speed. Punching out to making out in record time. Unless you have some personal record I don't know about..."

Korra glared at him, but it was destroyed by her smile. "Is everything about speed with you?" she quipped. Tahno gave her a meaningful look.

"Not everything."

She gaped at him. A smirk curled her lips—not as big as his—and she raised her hand for another punch.

"Okay, okay—you've gotten in quite enough hits for one day."

"Have I?"

She kissed him again. Just to keep him on his toes.

"So, anyway—about my proposal," she rushed out, one she'd broken for air. His eyes were still closed, so she leaned down to press another kiss to his mouth—and another, between her words. Or at least she would have, had she managed to get any out.

"What were you saying?" he asked, sometime later, when Korra had lost all sense of her train of thought, or quite possibly just her sense of thought in general.

"Why didn't we start doing this earlier?" Korra muttered between muffled kisses. Honestly. There were few things in life she would rather be doing in that moment than kissing Tahno. The only thing better than kissing Tahno under their tree in the middle of their park would be—

"Oh, shit," Korra breathed against his mouth. "You were running earlier."

Tahno peered up at her curiously. "Yeah... that was sort of the whole point."

"No, I mean—I mean did you run here? Run here?"

"... Yes?"

"No! I mean—did you run here? From your apartment?"

"Oh," Tahno said finally, in understanding. "Oh, hell no. In this fucking cold, after not running for a whole week? Fuck that. I parked my car in the arboretum parking lot."

"Oh, thank god."

Tahno eyed her again, much more curiously than before, if possible. "How far did you run today, Miss I-Had-My-First-Varsity Meet?"

Korra's eyes widened. "You knew about that?"

"Course," he huffed. "That's public knowledge."

She smiled with memory.

"Creep," she accused. Perhaps a little fondly.

"Hey," he complained, upon deaf ears. Korra was already slipping away and making a move to stand, springing into action. She reached a hand down to pull him up, then was taken by surprise when he reached his full height and yanked their clasped hands to his chest, pulling her in for another kiss. Honestly. She'd never get tired of them. She was certain.

(Although... she had to admit: the way he wouldn't let go of her hand as they walked back along the trail was sort of nice, too.)

"You know," Tahno began sometime later, when they were almost to the parking lot. "Narook technically works the afternoon and evening shifts tonight..."

"Evening!" Korra said suddenly, squeezing Tahno's hand tightly—"Ow!"—out of pure, reflexive fear. Evening. Evening meant after-afternoon and right before nighttime and—

"Oh, man, am I in big trouble."

"What? Why?"

"I... might officially be the worst niece on the planet," Korra grimaced, thinking of the time—oh, shit, was time was it?—and the dinner and the dance—the dance!—and Asami and Bolin and Iroh sitting politely around the table in her kitchen while Meelo asked them invasive personal questions about all sorts of things and took notes with his notebook and crayons and oh, god. (Oh, god. Ikki was there too, and Jinora, and if any of them so much as mentioned to Iroh the fact that there was a guy she liked, even remotely—)

"Uhh," Tahno said uncertainly. "Your uncle's not like—one of those super, overprotective uncles, is he?"

"Tenzin!" Korra hissed. How could she have forgotten Tenzin? And Bumi! And Iroh. Oh, GOD.

"Um. Is that a yes?"

Korra sent him a look that she hoped was apologetic, and not actually just a grimace of shame and pain. Oh, my god, Korra—don't scare him off, don't scare him OFF. You just went through hell and back and snuck into a waterfall sanctuary today to fucking get where you are now, don't you dare fucking scare him OFF, KORRA STOP, HE'S LOOKING AT YOU REALLY SUSPICIOUSLY SAY SOMETHING—

"Define... overprotective."

Tahno came to a halt.

"Korra."

"Okay, really though—I promise they're not that bad."

"They're?"

Shit. "Okay, so my cousin and uncle might be in town to visit, but they're really nice, I swear. Insane, but—nice. And both of my uncles—"

"Two uncles?!"

"Actually, three, if you count my biological one—but no one really does—and that's not really taking into account any of the great uncles, but we hardly ever see them—"

"Korra."

"And, you know—I was just—just thinking, about how—maybe—you might appreciate it if I choose not to invite you over to my Great Aunt Katara's dinner tonight, because all of my family will be there, including my uncles, and also Asami and Bolin, and Iroh, my cousin who is on a quick leave from the military and came all the way here to surprise me."

Korra watched his face very carefully, but it was impressively—involuntarily?—blank. Slowly, he resumed walking and, highly concerned, Korra matched his pace.

"Military," he echoed, dully.

"Um," Korra winced. "Yeah. Fighter pilot."

Tahno nodded absently. "Great," he said, hollow.

Korra let him walk in thoughtful—terrified?—silence for another minute, but by the time they'd reached the parking lot, she'd had enough. She bumped his shoulder with hers, and when he looked down at her, she gave a small smile, uncertain and reassuring all at once.

"I also kinda ditched my friends in order to come find you," she admitted, tossing in another shrug. "It wasn't all completely selfish though—I managed to finagle a nice matchmaking set-up in the process... but I think I might need to go home," she told him, watching his eyes crinkle at the corners, and quickly said, "For now."

Tahno was not appeased.

"I mean... you could skip the dinner and... come to the dance with me?" she suggested slyly.

Tahno glanced sidelong at her, clearly amused despite his better judgment. "Well, I can see now that all the making out was only supposed to lead me to a sense of false security; you clearly have me on a death wish. Between punching me out of a tree, the almost-invite to dinner with your pack-of-wolves relatives, and outright asking me to willingly enter the territory of my greatest arch-nemesis, there's really no other explanation."

"How 'bout this—I go to dinner and spend lots of time with my family members, you go back to your apartment, and then we hang out tomorrow."

"I don't like any part of that plan."

"Or we could go to this dance thing?

"Or you could go to this dance thing that you're so curious about, after you attend this nice, family dinner by yourself, and then call me when you're done dancing or whatever so you can come back to my place for a movie and making out."

She had to admit. It did sound like a plan.

"All right," she smirked. "I'm willing to consider it as a distinct possibility."

Until one minute ago, she hadn't even really considered the dance as a viable option for her evening. What the hell? Korra thought, with her hand clasped tightly in Tahno's larger one. She'd changed so many of her plans in the last week alone—not to mention the last hour or so. What could it hurt to try one more? She didn't have anything to wear, of course, but that didn't matter—Asami had been sending a barrage of not-so-subtle hints about spare dresses her way for days. Korra figured she could survive anything at this point.

Tahno's car was just as familiar and welcome a sight as ever. It felt strange to have to let go of his hand in order to get in the car—for the love of polar bears, Korra, get a fucking grip—but he more than made up for it when he landed in the driver's seat next to hers, and kissed her across the plastic cup holders. It was even better when he finally turned the heat on.

"So," he said, adjusting his mirror. "Ten months?"

Korra's stomach clenched, briefly. "Yeah," she said softly. "Just about."

Tahno nodded, slow and thoughtful, and Korra would have given anything to know what he was thinking in that moment. "All right," was all he said and, weirdly, it made Korra feel a whole lot better.

"Hey," Korra accused suddenly, smirking at him across the way. "You never actually congratulated me."

Tahno side-eyed her with obvious confusion. "On what?"

Korra narrowed her eyes, mouth hanging open in a terrible mix of exasperation and amusement. She had a terrible, wonderful feeling that she was probably going to have to get used to it.

"On making Varsity, you asshole."

He sent her another look, this time much more curiously. His lips quirked into a familiar grin, knowing and taunting and she should not have wanted to kiss it. No.

"Did you always use to swear this much?" he asked.

"I refuse to comment."

"You refuse to comment—or you refuse to fucking comment?"

"Do not give my uncles any additional reasons to believe that you are anything other than a positive influence in my life."

"I am totally—"

"Do not even finish that sentence, pretty boy, or so help me Naga, I will punch you again, right here in this car, right now."

Tahno shifted into gear. "Not if I'm driving, you won't." He pulled out of his space and Korra conceded, but only barely.

"So," Korra smirked, leaning farther back into the seat as he pulled onto the main road, soaking up all the warmth his car had to offer. "You think my chances of beating you again in a race before the end of the year are pretty high?

"Ten months, new girl. Not ten years."

"I don't know," she replied deviously. "I've heard about this indoor track thing..."

"Track?" Tahno echoed quickly, glancing her way. "Who's been talking to you about track?"

"A little bird. He told me about prom, too." Sort of.

Tahno's face fell. His eyes narrowed. "It was the brother—wasn't it?"

Korra merely smiled. "Like I'd tell you," she quipped. "Five weeks later and you still haven't acknowledged my win. I went and made Varsity—"

"With my help."

"And still no congratulations, man."

A smile spread across his lips, easy and relaxed—so unlike what normally crossed his features, around anyone else—and for her.

"I'll give you yours when you've earned it," he told her.

Korra smiled, feeling a comforting sense of déjà vu, and said, "Then it looks like we've reached another impasse."

She felt a hand come to rest over hers in her lap, and when she looked up, she watched as it was plucked into the air and brought to Tahno's lips, which placed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. Just where her elastic used to be.

"Don't worry," he smirked, smoothing a thumb over her palm as he drove on, drawing nearer and nearer to her uncle's home. "We've got all year."

And then Korra realized.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Yeah.

We do.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

End Note: Well. That's it. Thank you, everyone, for what has been an incredibly awesome journey!

A huge shout-out to all of the beautiful betas who have helped push this story forward and defend it from typos, including the ever-lovely ebonyquill, whose dedication and insight came from all hours of day and night—and even from beside a Dasani water-bottle vending machine in an airport, complete with handwritten beta notes, photographed to me through her phone; Rhi, who is always up for a read-through, and puts up with me bombarding her with tumblr asks and g-chat messages and texts at the most inconvenient times; Yuki119, my beloved Chey, who pitched in for the other betas when real life got in the way; socksssss, for the emergency beta session that I AM STILL SO UNDYINGLY GRATEFUL FOR, you don't even know; and Heather, whose comprehensive, constructive reviews still often leave me totally and utterly speechless. I feel like I am a better, more reflective writer for simply having met all of you. Personal Record is really important to me, but I just want you guys to know that the stories we've created together, through its whole process—batshit insanity, capslock conversations, incoherent babbling—are honestly just as precious.

Similarly, I'd like to extend my sincere appreciation to every person who read, reviewed, and promoted this story for what has turned out to be a little over a year. I cherish each and every review, carefully consider each comment, and treasure every piece of fanart! (The links to which can be found on my FFNET profile.) Thanks again, everyone—it has been awesome. Which is why I'm probably so excited to share this:

Korra and Tahno, and the ten months that they've got; a once-clandestine relationship that has become increasingly less so,
the continued struggle one particular new girl faces in attempting to adapt to so-called regular society, and—oh, college applications, track, Championships, and probably something about fulfilling one's destiny as the Avatar, along the way.

Life, in starts and stops, and intervals.

Check out the new story from therentyoupay, Intervals, the not-sequel to Personal Record!

There will be no intricate plot. There will be no set number of chapters. All you can expect is a series of drabbles, one-shots, lists, and text messages from the Personal Record universe, one that will follow Korra and Tahno as they finish out the rest of their year together. I will write what I want, when I want to, and no longer have to worry about connecting dots and details and other really time-consuming things. It is exactly what it looks like: snippets and scenes, moments and singular events, in somewhat chronological order. :)

I'm going to be working more heavily on finishing the break the ice series over the next few months, then making my way back over to my older WIP fics (Monstrosity, Beyond Lost), and continuing to work on my original novel all the while. This not-sequel is only just for fun! And, as I am in the process of switching over to AO3, the entirety of Intervals, thus, will be hosted solely on AO3. Sorry for the inconvenience! If you are interested in seeing the story play out, check out the link to my AO3 account on my FFNET profile and subscribe. ;)

Thanks again, everybody!