E V E N L Y - MATCHED

best overall ; fanfiction “Bottoms Up" [ PG-13 ] by abeyantcobalt

best overall ; fanart “Free!Tahnorra" [ N/A ] by yuki119

best character portrayal “and this is the aftermath" [ K ] by pennyofthewild

most romantic “Missed me?" [ K ] by lemonedcurd

most humorous “Sweater Weather" [ K ] by phail-whale

most original “A Flame Amongst the Ashes" [ T ] by likeabirdinflight

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A huge congratulations to all of this round's winners and a huge shout-out to all of the awesome participants who created beautiful, moving, and funny pieces of art and fiction for this pairing! :) It's been a total blast, and I can't wait for more. Keep your eyes peeled for what's next after the weekend!

Happy Halloween, everyone! ♥ therentyoupay

Author/Artist Note(s): AHH, I hope you enjoy this! Sadly, I wasn’t able to get my hands on a ticket to Pacific Rim in the past few months, so I haven’t seen the movie… Yet. But I’m dying to see it. Despite the fact that I haven’t watched it yet, I hope this interpretation of your prompt is still pretty accurate; I did as much research as I could about the story itself. But I think overall, I ended up focusing on Korra and Tahno’s relationship and how they interact with each other. Also, there is no Makorra. :3 Musical Inspiration: “Things We Lost In The Fire” by Bastille.

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Things we lost to the flame

Things we’ll never see again

All that we’ve amassed

Sits before us, shattered into ash

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

These are the things, the things we lost

The things we lost in the fire, fire, fire…

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The wall of flames behind him licked a trail up the back of his legs and along his spine, sending severe shudders through his limbs. Beads of sweat trailed down his face and neck in tiny rivers, soaking the collar of his shirt. It was December, barely above freezing, but Tahno’s skin burned with heat. Smoke was everywhere, stinging his eyes, burning his throat, and filling his lungs with toxins. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth as he coughed and rasped, blindly stumbling down the alleyway. Adrenaline consumed him, controlling him from a source deep within his core. Screams of human terror and alien anguish echoed and amplified as they bounced off the brick walls, but all Tahno could hear were the roar from the barricade of fire behind him and the boom of buildings collapsing around him.

He ran and ran for what felt like hours, the rubber soles of his sneakers smacking against pavement and rubble. His hands and knees were caked with blood, having slipped and fallen multiple times during his escape. Air caught in his throat every time he inhaled, and his head throbbed with every step, but he continued on through the wreckage until he stumbled once more. Collapsing to the tarmac, he found himself unable to get back up. His limbs were heavy as lead, and he struggled to find his voice or even the will to push himself to his feet.

This memory haunted his thoughts every waking hour and every slumbering hour; it was a vision that replayed through his mind and plagued him like a disease. He could never escape it, no matter how fast he ran in his dreams, nor how hard he tried to consciously push it down into the dark.

It wasn’t the kaiju that was the villain of his nightmares.

. . . . .

It was the fire.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I was the match and you were the rock

Maybe we started this fire

We sat apart and watched

All we had burned on the pyre

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He bolts awake, drenched in perspiration and unable to breathe. The hyperventilation is pretty bad this time, triggered not only by the recurring nightmare, but also by the failure of he and Korra’s previous assault against the kaiju. This anxiety had arrived on his doorstep in a big, black box, and he did not even have to open the lid before it took control of his entire being. His only home, that place inside of him where he felt most safe and kept everything locked away, was soon ransacked by a beast hellbent on tearing him apart and exposing him as the weak, pathetic human he feared himself to be.

. . . . .

This terrified him to his core.

. . . . .

A warm hand presses against his brow, momentarily paralyzing all of his spasming muscles, and Tahno’s pale eyes shift and focus to the owner. His wide, wild gaze meets Korra’s composed, empathic turquoise eyes, and for a few moments, nothing is said. Nothing needs to be said. She knows of his night terrors. She knows of his darkest memories, of his destructive anxiety, just as much as he knows of her struggle of finding herself, proving her worth to others, and her own inner demons. Demons that easily complement his.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He and Korra were much too similar in too many ways: their stubbornness, their desire for perfection, their hot-headed natures; even their favorite dish in the mess hall was the same (but who didn’t like noodle-night?). But as much as their were near twins, they were just as different as two sides of a coin, or the sun and the moon. When life got rough, Tahno would retreat to the corners of his room, hiding away from everyone, whereas Korra would physically fight it out, expelling most of the demons out of her soul with every punch, every kick. He was quiet and reserved unless taunted, and only then would he give someone the time of day, typically in a caustic statement determined to make them despise him; Korra, however, was brash and loud, constantly speaking before thinking, and seemed to make acquaintances more easily than himself.

Despite these differences, however, the two complemented each other. Without ever having to really self-disclose emotions or past experiences, they were able to figure one another out. They read each other with clarity, understood each other with accuracy, that most observers found the pairing unfathomable. Their Neural Handshake was stronger than titanium, a rarity amongst the Jaeger Academy, especially since they had had no connection to each other before the academy. They were a stunning pair to behold, and an even more perfect pair as Jaeger pilots.

. . . . .

'Yet we still failed.'

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Do you understand that we will never be the same again?

The future’s in our hands and we will never be the same again.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He pulls away from her hand, shuffling back on the bed until he sits up and presses his back against the wall. Silence fills the space between them, weighing them down like humidity until he speaks.

“What are you doing in here?” he demands, clearing his throat as his eyes shoot her accusing looks.

She doesn’t respond. She pulls her lower lip into her mouth, nibbling on it in embarrassment and contemplation. She glances at her hands, now tightly interlocked in her lap. A few more quiet moments pass, and Tahno is tempted to simply kick her out, but she manages to speak:

"Couldn't sleep."

The statement is accompanied by a short, nearly apologetic shrug of the shoulders, and this just irritates Tahno. He breathes in sharply, the sound of his inhale shattering the silence of the room. Korra can nearly hear his teeth grind in his jaw as the gears in his head begin shifting, struggling to catch and find his next response. So she decides to add to her answer:

“And I knew you wouldn’t be sleeping, either.”

This response takes him by surprise, though he has no idea why.

“I was sleeping,” he corrects with his slow drawl. “I just wasn’t sleeping peacefully.”

Korra laughs once, her shoulders tightening as she stretches out her hands in front of her. She turns her head away as she yawns, only to resume the conversation after the action.

"Me, neither."

Tahno takes a moment to soak in her response. Huffing a long sigh, he lets his head fall back against the wall with a low thud. For a few peaceful seconds, his mind is blank, empty of both a response and of anxiety. This lasts as long as he anticipated, however; within these few seconds, Korra moves from her spot at the edge of the bed to right fucking beside him. Flashing a crooked smile his way, she pumps her fists in the air as she proclaims, “We’re in this together!”

His pale eyes roll so hard in his head that he could have swore he audibly heard them rotate in their sockets. Scoffing under his breath, he murmurs, “Fine.” This apparently pleases the brunette to his left, evident by her hum of joy. He manages to stop her excited squirming with a surprising gesture: a palm upon the crown of her head. He pats her hair twice, maybe three times, his mouth pressed in the straightest line possible as his fingers make contact with her hair.

“I feel like you’re going to kill me,” Korra mutters, all of her muscles tensed and on high alert.

“I’m having to really restrain myself,” Tahno jokes, a joking sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You can’t kill me. You need me,” she clarifies.

Her bluntness gets a slight chuckle out of the male Jaeger pilot. Patting her head once more, he assures, “There are others. Others better than you.”

Korra slams a fist into his side and Tahno falls over, pressing his hands to his waist.

"I hate you," he rasps.

“You deserve it,” she grumbles, taking the chance to use his body as a pillow. She awkwardly lies on top of him, more so to irritate him rather than find some comfort on the hard mattress. “I understand you too well. No one would be able to put up with your attitude, Mister Sassy-Pants.”

Tahno scoffs again. “Ha, and you think someone could put up with your immaturity, little girl?”

“Keep talking, bro, and you’ll end up with more bruises.”

“Ohhh, I’m so afraid,” he taunts, feigning apathy.

He knows fully well that he deserved that next blow to his stomach.

“Can you not?” he practically whines, throwing his hands before him in exasperation.

“If you don’t play nice, I don’t play nice.” As if to further accent her point, Korra crosses her arms over her chest and leans even more onto Tahno, causing him to groan.

“You’re going to crush me. You are going to crush me, and I am going to die,” he hisses.

“Oh, good! That was my exact plan.”

"I hate you."

Korra stretches out a hand and playfully ruffles his hair. “I hate you more.”

"No, you don't."

“... Okay, maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass tomorrow.”

“Ha, doubt it.” He pretends not to notice the fact that her hand hasn't moved from his head. And there is no way in hell that he'll announce how good the heat of her palm feels against his scalp; how calming the gesture is.

“You wanna go toe-to-toe with me, pretty boy?”

Oh, he definitely wasn't going to say anything now. There was no way he was going to let her get the upperhand on him.

“Go for it. I’ll give you the first shot.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Flames -- they licked the walls

Tenderly they turned to dust all that I adore

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

.

.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Yes, Avatar. I was a perfectly capable human being before you moved in."

Tahno doesn't duck when Korra smacks the back of his head. It begins to sting almost immediately. He groans loudly and massages the sore spot.

She rolls her eyes. "I know that."

"You're only going to be in the Fire Nation for a week. That's hardly enough time for the world to end." This time, he ducks for a blow that never comes.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she raises a brow."You'd be surprised."

Tahno carefully observes her. "Will you be okay, Avatar?"

"No," she smirks. "How am I ever going to survive without your incessant whining for an entire week?"

His eyes narrow. "Personally, I am going to thoroughly enjoy my week of peace and quiet."

"Ha! Oh, please. You'll be dying of boredom within three days."

"Wanna bet?"

"Yeah. Actually, I do," Korra replies without missing a beat.

Before Tahno can take it back, he sees that flash of determination in Korra's expression – the same glint of competitiveness that drew him to her when she was a snotty new girl and he was a mean jerk.

"The first one to admit – ."

"Now, wait a second," Tahno tries to interrupt.

" – that they miss the other peson – ."

"Avatar."

"– has to clean the dishes for an entire week."

Tahno looks at her smug expression and something burns deep inside him – the nagging, can't-be-ignored urge to win. "It's on."

.

.

.

Day One

Republic City

Tahno quickly decides that he's never been this cold in his entire life. He is cocooned in a large blanket, wearing his traditional sleeping attire (black shorts and a basic white shirt). He curves his body into a fetal position in an attempt to conserve his body heat.

The weather is just starting to change – leaves are just starting to crisp, greens are blotched with maroon and gold – but the wind is angrily whistling outside and cold air creeps underneath the cracks in his doorframe and sneaks through the crevices of his window.

Morning light starts to seep and refract through the apartment and Tahno knows he should start his day, but the cold weather weighs down his motivation.

He doesn't understand why it's so cold.

But then he remembers that here's usually more body heat underneath his blanket – nestled in the crook of his arm and breathing against his chest.

But she's gone.

She'd only just left yesterday for a week-long visit to the Fire Nation and he assured her – and himself – that he would be fine without her, but within twenty-four hours, the weather crudely reminded him that no, you won't be fine.

Goddamnit, he thinks. After a minute, he decides that he's not going to warm up in his present state so he makes a deal with himself. Get up in five seconds. Run to the closet. Put on all the clothes you have. One... two... three... four...

He jolts out of bed quickly. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It's so fucking cold. Every piece of fabric in his wardrobe is chilly. But eventually, he finds a warm coat – made out of a tougher material, unlike his Republic City clothes – and throws it over his head.

See? You can survive a week without her, he thinks to himself. He catches a glimpse of himself in the closest mirror.

The coat is a few sizes too small and it's too tight at the waist. And, upon closer inspection, he realizes that it's a shade of Water Tribe blue.

He sighs defeatedly. Okay, maybe you can't.

.

.

.

Day Three

Fire Nation

Korra quickly determines that she's never been this bored in her entire life. She's been through a barrage of meetings with nobles and politicians, dignitaries and officials. And they're all so dull.

Even their humor is boring. (Every joke begins with a knock-knock and ends with an exhausted groan as a response.)

But it's a necessary part of her job as the Avatar and she has to socialize and negotiate and delegate and – she just wants to go home.

More specifically, she just wants to talk to him. She wants to call him an idiot and make fun of him when he takes too long to do his hair. She wants to share the story about about the dignitary that awkwardly shook her hand for too long and the noble who dropped a piece of cake into a pond, fished it out, and still ate it. And she wants to tell him jokes that begin with terrible innuendos and end with him, rolling his eyes in sheer disbelief.

It's only been three days, she tells herself. Three days.

And when Tenzin whisks her away to another event, she repeats that mantra over and over to herself.

.

.

.

Day Five

Republic City

He's going insane. At least, that's what he's telling himself.

He was swirling his chopsticks around his bowl at their small, modest kitchen table when he asked her a question out loud.

After five seconds of silence, he finally realized that she wasn't there to answer him.

Two more days, he tells himself.

He fights the urge to go to Shaozu's house to borrow his phone. He doesn't even know who or where he would phone to reach her.

Would I call the Fire Nation Palace? Do they even have a telephone line? he ponders. Maybe I can ask General Iroh.

He's only met the general a handful of times, but they've always gotten along despite the fact that Iroh's jawline was perfect and, therefore, a major threat.

Wait, is General Iroh in the Fire Nation right now? With Korra? He can't remember Korra mentioning him in the past few weeks. But why wouldn't he be there? He was a noble and the Fire Nation was his home. It was the place where he grew up and learned how to fight and how to flirt and – . Tahno could imagine it now. 'Oh, Avatar, look at this romantic pond that I used to visit when I was a child. We should have a picnic here. Oh, you need me to cut that piece of cheese for you? Why don't I use my god-like cheekbones to cut it for you?'

Within five minutes, Tahno had thrown on a sweater (backwards, with the tag sticking out), slicked his hair down (curls strewn about), and was halfway out the door to visit Shaozu's house – and to borrow his telephone so that he could call his two-timing Avatar girlfriend – when he stopped himself in a much-needed moment of clarity.

"You're being paranoid," he says out loud. He repeats himself and the words reverberate throughout the apartment. He sits back down at the kitchen table and glares at his bowl.

"Stupid cheese-cutting cheekbones."

.

.

.

Day Six

Fire Nation

Don't call him. Don't call him. Don't call him.

She doesn't mind washing the dishes. She's a waterbender and the chore is quick and painless. But she does care about losing a bet.

So even though she has a nightmare – it's always the same nightmare, anchored by an image of Amon's mask – and she usually tells Tahno about it, she won't call him.

She closes her eyes and tries to imagine him if he was there to comfort her – the way his fingers trace circles into her lower back, the way he clumsily brushes his lips against her cheek because he's still half-asleep, the way he embraces her even more tightly when she's too shaken to go back to sleep.

Don't call him.

.

.

.

Day Seven

Republic City

The apartment is empty when she returns. It's mid-afternoon and the city is bustling outside the window, but everything inside the apartment is eerily still. Their bed is made, the kitchen table is clean, and the floor is clear – absent of her clothes, his shoes, their usual mess.

Where is he? Granted, she's a few hours early – she decided to surf for the last stretch of the journey; it was bitterly cold, but ultimately refreshing.

She sits down at their table and tries to imagine eating alone in an empty apartment for seven days. But what if he wasn't alone? What if he invited one of his old girlfriends to the apartment? WHAT IF SHE SAT IN THIS VERY SEAT?!

The door opens and breaks her out of her reverie. Korra stands up quickly, almost knocking her chair over.

"Who was she?!" Korra yells.

Tahno's brows knit together in confusion as he walks into the room, clutching a bouquet of flowers. "What?"

Her eyes widen and her cheeks twinge pink with embarrassment. "Oh, uh. Nothing. I was acting out a thing in my mind. A stupid thing. It doesn't matter. Don't worry about it. Hi."

"Hello," he says cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I live here."

"Not for another three hours."

"I came home early." Her eyes dart to the flowers. "What are those?"

"Flowers."

"Obviously. Are they for me?" She smiles triumphantly.

"No, they're for Naga."

She doesn't know whether she wants to laugh or to hit him. "Don't make me Avatar state your ass out of here."

"Did you miss me?" He crosses the room and sets the flowers on the table. He closes the space between them and looks down at her with a smirk on his face.

"No," she says defiantly.

He dips his head to kiss her, but she turns and his mouth brushes her cheek. His voice is low. "I missed you."

She turns to face him, a grin spreading across her features. "I win."

He rolls his eyes and smiles. Tahno cups her cheek with one hand and grasps her waist with another. He lowers his head and kisses her. "No. I'm pretty sure I do."

.

.

.

---------------------------------------------------- Author/Artist Note(s): Dear StrangeViolin,

Truth be told, I haven’t been into LOK or Tahnorra for a while: I lost touch with the characters, and canon events, much as it pains me to admit it, really disillusioned me, where shipping was concerned, and so this was – quite hard – to write: I’ve actually never been good at writing romance, and the lack of an emotional connection/plausible ideas just made things worse.

I’m aware this probably isn’t the most original, or well-written, fic out there, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. I wish you a wonderful holiday!

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 ***

 “Are you sure you’re going to be alright, going home alone?” Mako says when they are outside the theater and out on the street, bathed in the golden glow from the streetlights and the buildings on either side of the boulevard.

There is a crease wrinkling Mako’s eyebrows, and two more where the corners of his mouth are pulled downwards into a frown. His beret is pulled low over his forehead, and there are snowflakes speckling the heavy corduroy over his shoulders and the arm wrapped tight around Asami’s waist.

Korra looks down at Asami’s feet, pale creamy backs in their fashionable red pumps with the toes pointed inward, a vivid scarlet against the gray mush on the sidewalk.

“I’m going to be fine,” Korra tells them, shoving her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat and suppressing a shiver, “go on home.”

“Korra,” Asami says, and her voice is soft, gentle, and maybe a little probing (Korra looks up, now, and meets pinched lips and worried eyes set deep under arched brows framed with wavy dark curls), “it’d be no trouble to drive you.”

Asami’s cap sits at a jaunty angle on her head. Her hand, tucked into the crook of Mako’s arm, bears red-painted, perfectly manicured fingernails. Korra says,

“Thank you: but it’s fine,” and she smiles her widest, brightest smile, “can’t get in between you both all evening, now, can I?”

“We enjoy hanging out with you,” Asami protests, and she is about to say something further when Korra shakes her head.

“I know you do,” she says, “and I do, too: but being alone doesn’t bother me.”

I’ve gotten used to it. In fact, I might actually prefer it.

There is silence for several heartbeats. Mako still looks a little dubious: he opens his mouth a little, and Korra sees Asami’s fingers contract around his arm.

“Give us a call when you get home,” Mako says instead of whatever he was going to before, and Korra nods dutifully. She watches them get into the Satomobile - Asami in the driver’s seat, Mako riding shotgun - the car shudders as Asami turns the key in the ignition and the engine rumbles, smoke pouring from the exhaust vent.

***

Republic City, Korra thinks as she walks down the footpath, will never be quite as comforting as the village back in the South Pole, but after nearly half-a-year of living with Tenzin’s family on Air Temple Island, feels enough like home for her to relax, if only a little, in between the large, brightly-lit buildings, a single person in a crowd of people.

It is a little like getting lost, with the assurance that, when I’m ready, I can find myself again.

It is nearly nine o clock, and yet the city is still bustling, drivers honking horns and yelling out of open windows, pedestrians milling on sidewalks and crossing streets with heads bowed low and hands stowed safely in large pockets, music drifting from inside restaurants and impromptu street musician bands. The city’s less savory inhabitants are out and about, too: Korra catches sight of a pick-pocket skillfully relieving a man of his wallet and passes a gang carrying out a friendly argument in an alley – one that is rapidly degenerating into violence.

Half-a-year ago, Korra would have jumped in, without a thought, to settle the conflict, and chased the pickpocket too, but there’s a police van parked conveniently near the intersection and Korra isn’t the person she used to be, so she crosses the road without a backward glance, ruthlessly pushing the niggle of guilt that surfaces to the back of her mind.

Snowflakes drift downwards, coming to rest on her head and shoulders – and, when she tilts her face up to look at the sky – dark, swirling with clouds – on her face, melting into her skin. There is a group of people – almost a small crowd but not really one – ahead, gathered on the sidewalk, and when Korra draws closer she can see a sign propped up on the pavement.

Pencil Sketch – Five Yuans, the first line says, and Korra looks from the signboard to the artist, seated at a makeshift cardboard-box table with several sheets of paper stacked on top. He is wearing a threadbare black coat, patched at the elbows and knees, and the dark strands of hair escaping his cap are vaguely familiar, and the hands, wrapped around a stick of charcoal, narrow palms and long slender fingers, are even more so.

“Here,” the artist says to the man standing in front of the box, and holds out the drawing he’d been working on. Korra is close enough, now, to see the smile that creases the man’s craggy face. “I hope you like it.”

“Yeah,” the man’s grin widens, “it’s great. Thanks.”

A woman and a little girl – probably a mother and her daughter – step up, next, and the little girl, bright-eyed, nose and cheeks pink with the cold, claps her hands under her chin.

“Could you draw me as the Avatar, mister?”

If the artist thinks the request is strange, it doesn’t show; he nods and says, “Sure, I can do that,” and pulls a fresh sheet of paper towards himself, gripping the bit of charcoal tighter. His eyes – an icy gray-white – skim the girl’s face. The girl’s features appear on the paper with several neat, efficient strokes of the charcoal – curly hair, snub nose – he really is good, Korra thinks admiringly, and the blanked-out eyes and the whirlwind of elements surrounding the girl in the picture is quite accurate –

“What’s your name?” the artist asks. His voice is low, slightly gravelly, like a chain smoker’s, almost, and reminds Korra, strangely enough, of late-night practices at the pro-bending arena, dinner at Narook’s and another boy’s gravelly voice offering to give her private lessons, how about it, Uh-vatar, several lifetimes ago.

Hey – hey, I just wondered:

if I’d taken you up on that offer, maybe, what would have happened? Would I be happier, now? Would I be worse?

“Yuki,” the little girl tells him, and the artist says,

“That’s a pretty name,” and labels the drawing with a flourish, scribbling his signature – too small for Korra to make out – in the corner.

“Wow,” Yuki exclaims, “thanks, mister,” and she stands by, clasping the drawing, while her mother reaches into her purse and takes out a paper bill.

“I don’t have change,” the artist says, “this is too much,” and Yuki’s mother shakes her head.

“Keep the change,” she tells him, and leads her daughter down the sidewalk. The artist, clutching the fifty-yuan bill like it is a lifeline, calls,

“Thank you,” after them.

“Hey,” Korra says, stepping up to the box, “draw me?”

Up close, she can see his eyes are an extremely pale blue, instead of gray, and that the stray locks of  hair falling over his forehead are faintly wavy – and then the eyes widen, and the thin-lipped mouth pulls upwards into a crooked smile.

Oh. Oh: it’s you. Hey – hey, I just wondered:

“Fancy seeing you again, uh-vatar,” the artist says.

***

“I’m sorry I can’t return your bending to you,” Korra says quietly, watching Tahno fill in the strands of her hair, his knuckles shiny gray. His nails are close-clipped, his hands steady. Korra remembers them trembling, tight around his knees, on the bench outside the police station.

You look tired then. You’re still tired now, aren’t you? You look the way I feel, in the early mornings, and late at night, when I can’t feel the sun and the moon is a distant stranger. Hey – hey I just wondered: are the spaces in you

and the spaces in me the same?

“I’d say it’s fine,” Tahno replies, “but you’d know I’m lying, wouldn’t you?” He looks up; Korra feels his probing gaze glide over her eyes, her nose, her cheekbones – and he returns to the drawing, her cheeks suddenly warm in his wake.

“-I’ve got air, at least,” Korra says, “but you – ”

You had it so much worse, didn’t you? Did you choose solitude, or did it creep onto you like a shadow at noon or the waves on the beach under the tug of the moon?

 Hey – hey, I just wondered: is the ache deep like a wound that won’t heal under a scab and do you miss it all the time or does it fade, into the back of your mind like a death you can’t forget but  sometimes don’t feel?

“Being apologetic doesn’t suit you, uh-vatar,” Tahno tells her, erasing highlights into Korra’s eyes and shooting her another quick look. Korra buries her hands deeper into her pockets. Their breath mists in the cold air.

“I’m sorry,” Korra repeats, because standing in silence is suddenly unbearable but she doesn’t know what else to say.

Hey – hey, I just wondered: if we could see souls would you turn away from mine – would yours be a burst of light and would mine be a shadow - ?

Tahno sighs, breathing out through his mouth, heavily, and tilts his head back, eyes catching Korra’s. She can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, dusted with three-o’-clock shadow. Korra swallows and looks away.

“Didn’t I say,” he says quietly, “that apologizing doesn’t suit you?”

***

She slides a hundred yuan bill onto the table, after he’s handed her the paper. She’s smiling, in the drawing, open-mouth, teeth white against the dark of her skin, the sort of grin she hasn’t grinned since before the tournament finals. She wonders when Tahno saw her smile this smile, because she hasn’t been smiling, standing in front of his makeshift stand in the middle of the sidewalk while snow comes down – in clumps, now – around them.

Hey – hey, I just wondered: have you always watched me? Did you ever stop?

Tahno frowns at the bill, mouth twisting. “Is this pity, uh-vatar?” It is more of a statement than a question, and Korra flinches a little, at the tight fury in his tone.

“It isn’t,” she says softly, and watches the tremor in his fingers as he slides it into his pocket, a defiant sort of tilt to his shoulders.

“I don’t need pity,” Tahno tells her, and there is less anger and more weariness in his voice now – as if he is going through the motions and it doesn’t matter what I say does it you’d still think it wouldn’t you –

“I know,” Korra states, and she wraps her arms around herself, meeting his gaze straight and square – and this time, he is the one who looks away first.

***

Korra watches him pack his equipment up a little while later. It is snowing harder, now; the gray mush on the ground has been replaced with white mounds rising around their ankles and seeping through Korra’s trousers.

Hey – hey, I just wondered: is it cold where you are, now? If I spoke to you, would you listen? If I called, would you come?

The street is emptier now: the crowd is gone, and the drivers in the few Satomobiles still out shout angrier, sound their horns louder. Tahno swings his messenger bag onto his shoulder, shoves a hand into his pocket, the other wrapped firmly around the strap to his bag.

“Why are you still here?”

“-have dinner with me,” the words burst out, before Korra’s thought, and Tahno’s eyes narrow.

“What?”

“We usually eat late, at Tenzin’s,” Korra says, in an attempt to explain? justify?, “-I’d – I’m going to get something to eat: join me. I feel like home food: we can go to Narook’s.”

Tahno stares at her: dumbfounded, Korra thinks, mouth a little open, eyes mystified.

“It’s – it’s not pity,” Korra adds, hesitantly.  

I’m not sure what it is: but I want for you to – say yes, please.

Tahno says, “why?”, and Korra thinks there’s a little suspicion, in his voice, and a little desperation, too, maybe, and she decides, after a heartbeat’s pause, that honesty is probably the best way to go:

“I don’t know,” she says, and takes a deep breath. A snowflake comes to rest on her nose. Tahno’s eyelashes are spiky. “But – but maybe we can find out?”

[Hey – hey, I just wondered: would you hold on, if I reached out? Would you answer, if I asked?]

[Hey – hey, I just wondered: if it’s a war we survived, and if this is the aftermath – ]

.

.

.

.

.

One moment he was on his way to freedom - sweet, sweet freedom - and the next moment, the door opened on him, the frame hitting him square in the forehead and pushing him back, while a mess of sniffles and tears hurrying in, slamming the door behind her.

By itself, it wouldn't have really been a problem. He had never seen her cry, and didn’t particularly care to, and was planning to quietly slip out of the bathroom and back into the crowd upstairs. However, when he heard the door click, and  though he didn’t try to open it, he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that - given his luck - he might be stuck with the mess of sniffles and tears for a while.

And that was a problem.

He had come to socialize (if only briefly), to get drunk (well, not drunk drunk. He never really did like the taste of alcohol, per se, but it was a 21st birthday party - and not just any 21st birthday party, but Miss Asami Sato’s 21st birthday party -  so what else was to be expected?  … Not to mention that just a sip more of the wine he had previously been nursing on would have substantially improved his current mood, and to have a good night in general. It had been so long since he had actually been out and about and enjoyed himself. He had quite been looking forward to this night.)

He had certainly not come to be trapped in a bathroom with her. Not under normal circumstances, and certainly not when she was upset.

Tahno was, by no means, a big believer in Fate.

He did, however, think that someone, somewhere had a twisted sense of humor.

It's the only way to explain how it came that he was staring down at the distraught girl who only grew more confused at the fact of another person would be in the same room.

Hurriedly, she wiped away her away her tears with the back of her hand, crossing her arms defensively, looking up at him with the most annoyed look on her face.

"What are you doing in here?" And though she wanted her question to come out with a bite, her voice still wavered.

Tahno's eyebrow quirked as he leaned against the cool counter once more, supporting his weight with one hand, ignoring the stinging sensation that came from the door imprint on his forehead.

(And he hoped that she hadn't seen the tears that had welled in his own eyes upon the contact, and the way he hissed - and, well, he may have cursed, but that's not the point because it didn't hurt that much.)

"I could ask you the same thing," he retorted. His voice was smooth, a practiced tone, despite himself being mildly bewildered. "Don't you know what a closed door means?"

Her lower lip jutted out in a pout as she moved just a step closer to him, as if challenging him. "I know what it means," she huffed, "But it wasn’t locked.”

“It was locked.” His lips curled into a frown, his own arms crossing over one another. “Before you knocked it in.”

Because, really, that was the only plausible explanation. Tahno getting older, though… certainly he wasn’t becoming so scatter-minded so soon.

He huffed at the thought (though perhaps she thought he was huffing at her, because her mood only darkened to the point where Tahno could actually feel it.)

(And it felt mildly frightening.)

“Is there something you needed?” He asked, dry humor edging into his voice. “Or did you just come here to bother me?”

“I didn’t come down here for you.” Her eyes narrowed - he had never seen her in such a foul mood before - giving him one last look before turning on her heel for the door. “As much as I know that hurts your feelings.” With the off-handed comment, she twisted at the handle and -

Ah.

Just as he had thought, it didn’t budge.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

In spite of himself, Tahno chuckled. The exasperation in her voice, mixed with her vocalization of his exact thoughts, was oddly funny.

"You broke it."

"No, I didn't."

"You came in like a rhinopotamus. You broke it."

"If it had been locked, I wouldn't have come in."

She had turned now, looking at him, her hands balled in tight fists at her sides. He still hadn't moved from his spot against the counter.

(And, the pain in his head had gone down quite a bit, thank you very much.)

"It was lo-" He stopped himself mid-sentence. Again, he huffed, the sharp exhale blowing at the strands of fringe that had rested against his forehead. "It doesn't matter." Though the tenseness in his voice made her think that it did indeed matter, and it gave her some small pleasure to know that it seemed to irk him. "What matters is if you can unbreak it."

"I already tried, Pretty Boy." Her hands unballed - thank you - and rested on her hips instead. "Unless you'd like to try."

"I'll leave the brute force to you." His lips pursed, briefly. "I didn't come to throw myself against the door. But, I suppose I also didn't come to spend my night with you." A smirk tugged at the corner at his lips, not entirely from good humor. "Tonight's full of surprises, isn't it, Uhvatar?"

If her mood had lightened any, it was gone as soon as he finished his sentence.

"Apparently."  She shifted, turning towards the door as if, by sheer willpower, it would open.

22:15

"No one's coming."

"Shut up."

She had taken up a perch on top of the counter, watching as he paced, worrying tracks into the plush carpet.

"They would have come a long time ago."

"I said, shut up."

(Though he was a bit hurt that Ming and Shaozu hadn't come after him.)

"Whatever, Mr. Grumpy Hair."

(He found that he liked it much better when she had taken a vow of silence against him.)

22:30

"You're going to burn Asami's rug."

He looked at her - still on the counter - and frowned. "Do you have a better idea?"

"Not yet."

22:35

"Have you tried yelling?"

He groaned. Loudly.

22:37

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"... Are you kidding?"

"Yes."

22:40

He had given up pacing for sitting, the tips of his toes touching the bottom drawers of the cabinet.

"This is ridiculous."

"I agree."

"This is your fault."

Korra scrunched her nose - again, ridiculous - and he second guessed his position on the floor when she had to look down at him. "So call your fan club to bail you out.".

22:45

"How much longer do you think the party will last?"

"You don't know much about parties, do you?"

"No."

"A couple more hours. At least."

She sighed, sliding off of the counter and onto the floor, pulling her knees to her chest - and how she did it with the dress she had on, he wasn't quite sure.

Of all the pranks that life had played on him in his twenty-three years of living, this one, by far, took the cake.

Had he known that, when the Sato princess invited him and the Wolfbats to her birthday party, he would be where he was right now, well…

He might have rethought his RSVP.

They had been in the small bathroom (that seemed to be getting smaller) for at least an hour now. Maybe two.

(…Had it been three?)

(Surely not.)

Tahno tried to think of the longest he had ever spent with her, and his mind could only recall the brief moments in the locker rooms before a Pro Bending match.

(Because somehow the Fire Ferrets were still a team.)

(And, though he would never admit it, she was an enjoyable opponent, and seemed to be the one person he had found in his career that could evenly matched against him.)

23:00

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

23:15

Despite the thickness of the walls, the rain fell heavily enough for them to hear, and lightning hit hard enough for them to feel the vibration of the thunder. The flickering of the lights gave him enough of an excuse to pretend he didn't notice the momentary look of fear in her eyes.

(Not that he had been looking at her eyes.)

"I didn't know it was suppose to rain."

"So it seems."

"... Do you think the lights will go out?"

"I'm not an electrician, Korra."

"Oh."

"Are you scared?"

"No!"

He laughed a laugh that made him throw his head back. "I can't believe it -"

"Shut up."

"- Our Avatar, afraid of a thunder storm."

She turned her head, unwilling to meet his gaze. "I'm not afraid."

He hummed, the reverberation getting lost in his throat. "If you say so."

And that was that.

23:20

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"When you came in here, you were crying. Why?" He hadn't really meant for the words to come out. It wasn’t that he really cared. Girls cried all the time.

(But it was something different when Korra cried.)

And besides, it was boring to sit in silence.

(And she had seem really upset.)

"I wasn't."

A quirk of his eyebrow challenged her words.

"Mako broke up with me." Her voice made her seem smaller than she already was with her knees pressed tightly against her chest.

"Again?"

"Yeah."

"Hm."

"Surprises, right?" She looked over to him, a crooked grin on her face. (Though it wasn't one he knew her to wear.)

"Yeah."

"Mako's surprised to see Asami in that gown - " And it was a nice gown, Tahno mused. It fit in all the right places and - "And my surprise when he tells me it's over. Just like that." She snapped her fingers for emphasis.

23:22

"Don't worry about him."

23:24

“I’m hungry.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have broken the lock.”

“I said I was sorry.”

23:30

“Hey.” “Yeah?” “What were you doing in here?” Tahno frowned - he really needed to stop doing that - as he thought of the hateful, overpriced, falsely advertised, pencil stick that brought him here. (But it hadn’t turned out all bad.) “What do you think, Uh-vatar?” “... I feel like it has something to do with the stuff you put on your eyes.”

He sighed. Loudly.

23:32

“I could always burn the door down.”

“No.”

“But -”

“No.”

“I thought you wanted out.”

“I do,” Tahno’s voice was curt - he hadn’t moved from his position on the floor and was starting to feel a tad stiff - and he eyed her warily, as if the very moment he took his eyes off of her, she would ignite the room in flames. “However, I would like to leave without this house burning down.”

“Suit yourself.” And she only sounded mildly offended when she shrugged her shoulders. “Priss.”

23:35

“It’s still raining.”

“Yes.”

“...It never rains in the Southern Water Tribe.” She stretched her legs out so that they were parallel to his, her hands resting on her thighs.

“I hear it’s a desert.”

“So I’m not use to it.”

“Are you admitting to being scared?” The lack of taunting in his voice surprised her.

“No,” She replied evenly, drawing out the syllable, her arms coming up and over her head, awkwardly stretching before her hands settled back in her lap. “I’m just… not use to it.”

“Okay.”

As if on cue, the roll of thunder - that had quieted down- rumbled, loudly, making her at-ease posture fade quickly as she jumped. Her eyes widened, if only for a moment, frantically scanning the room before locking on his form.

(Honestly?)

“I thought you said -”

“I’m not afraid.” Though the whine in her voice suggested otherwise to him.

He laughed, nudging the tip of his boot against her leg.

“Okay.”

(He couldn’t wait to tell Ming and Shaozu about this.)

(Then again…)

----------------------------------------------------------------

Love... Bears all things...

Tahno comes home from work to find Korra out on the balcony, watching the waves crash onto the shore as the sun sets out over the horizon. The wind is blowing softly and tousling her hair around her shoulders, touched with the gold of the fading light. The corners of his lips lift in tenderness at the sight of his wife as he opens the sliding door, then he walks up behind her and kisses her cheek in greeting before settling into a chair beside her.

“How was your day, sweetheart?” Tahno inquires as he reaches over to pull her hand into his before raising it to brush his lips over her knuckles. It was an old fashioned gesture that in their teenage days he had performed with a sly arrogance to annoy her, but was now a well-practiced habit done out of sincerity and affection.

“Fine,” Korra answers flatly as she continues to watch the waves with a far off look in her eyes, an expression that had become unsettlingly familiar in recent days.

Tahno pauses before saying anything else for a few moments, taking in the sound of crashing waves and breathing in the salty air as his eyes scan the scenery before returning back to her face. “So where do you want to go for vacation this summer?” he asks softly as he squeezes her hand.

“What's the point?” Korra replies dejectedly, still not turning to look at him.

“Korra, please don’t do this. We keep having this discussion. Just because you're in a wheelchair, it doesn't mean...”

“That I can't have a 'normal' life?” she finishes for him, her tone noticeably more resentful than usual.

“Yes. You've been able to do so many things since the accident. You’ve even competed in marathons for god’s sake. Not to mention the bungee jumping, ski diving – twice -, and the amusement parks that let you cut all the lines to the roller coasters. You have traveled the world and done more in the last few years than most people do in a lifetime,” Tahno points out. “Why are you in such a bad mood? I thought you said you had a good day.”

“I did. It’s just...” Korra begins to say, but she can't seem to bring herself to say the words.

“Well then why are you acting like this?” he pushes further, determined not to let her suffer alone, whatever it was.

“Because sometimes I wonder if you’re even going to come home,” she blurts out suddenly, yanking her hand out of his to cover her face, now twisting with misery.

“What?” Tahno asks, completely dumbfounded as she fights back her emotions.

She takes a few steadying breaths before answering, mouth contorted and chin trembling. “I'm not blind, Tahno. Every time we go out I see the looks we get. Everyone looks at me with pity and every woman looks at you like 'god, why is he with her when he could be with someone better?', and it hurts because they're right,” Korra explains forlornly.

“Stop it,” Tahno bit out, feeling anger rise up inside him. “Stop thinking like that. I am with you because I love you. I have told you countless times, and I will tell you again and again until you believe it. I'm not going anywhere and I will never leave you, not for anyone or anything. The sun will rise in the west before I will ever think about leaving your side, you got that?” He leans nearer to her until their faces are nearly touching, his eyes searing hers with the force of how absolutely he serious he is.

Korra’s shoulders fall helplessly at his passion-ridden words, and a couple of silent tears seep from under her eyelids. There were times such as this one when she felt that she didn’t deserve to have anyone in her life, much less someone as fiercely loyal, passionate, brilliant, handsome, and loving as the man who was currently holding her face and looking at her so earnestly just so that she could see with her own eyes how much he loved her and how much he meant every word coming out of his mouth. But still the depression remained. The physical condition of her body was felt right to the pit of her soul, changing her perception of herself into someone she didn’t even know. Someone so distinctly opposite of who she always has been.

And now Korra can feel it again. She senses the impending emptiness creeping up on her once more and herself slide into blank apathy. But before she can pull away from Tahno, his grip tightens and his lips land on hers as his thumbs wipe away the tears on her cheeks. The urgent tenderness of his actions somehow achieve what talking could not, and she decides to accept his affirmations by opening her heart to his love, even if it meant also opening up to the pain of her consciousness.

Then Tahno lifts her out of her wheelchair and brings her into the house to gently lay her down in the middle of the bed, ever so gently undressing her before kissing up her legs. The same legs that were once long, slender, and beautifully muscled, and skin that was one time flawless.

Korra forces herself to look down at her legs, now atrophied, mangled, and scarred almost beyond recognition, but Tahno worships them as if they are his most precious possessions. The action causes her eyes to mist in appreciation and disbelief at how beautiful he could make her feel even now. His mouth continues to pay homage to her body, along with his hands and the rest of his body. She feels loved and cherished and utterly staggered by gratefulness, because even when she felt horrible and at the lowest point of despair, he was always there to pick her up and bear her weight without complaint.

Love... Believes All Things

A few years earlier

Tahno receives the call at work, his heart plummeting to the basement as the State Trooper tells him the news. Korra had been in a car accident, a bad one, with a semi. Currently firefighters were using the Jaws of Life to get her out of the vehicle. It was still unclear if she was even alive. He gets informed that she is going to be care-flighted to the nearest hospital and that he could meet them there.

Tahno doesn't remember driving to the hospital or even hanging up the phone before fleeing the building. He does, however, remember pacing the ER, waiting to hear the sound of the helicopter, wondering if his Korra, his beloved wife, would be alright, wondering if she was even still alive. He doesn't think he's ever prayed so much before in his life. All he knows is that he has to believe, believe that Korra survived, believe that she will live and not leave him on this earth alone.

When two surgeons come to talk to him and tell him that Korra has sustained serious injuries, that she will never walk again, but that she's alive and was one hell of a fighter, he feels his prayers were answered. And when he's brought back to the ICU and sees Korra in the hospital bed, he doesn't even notice the bottom portion of her body. The only thing that matters is her strong heartbeat on the monitor beeping away like a finely tuned machine. He's never thought anything could be more precious or beautiful. And when she finally wakes up, he believes beyond a shadow of a doubt that it doesn't matter if she has to be in a wheelchair or not. He believes that she will be able to do whatever she wants, whatever she puts her mind to, and that he will always believe in her.

Love... Hopes All Things

  “But it's been months, Tahno, and I still can't feel anything!” Korra yells in frustrated exasperation.

“Korra, these things take time, and you’re not all powerful. You can't heal from something like this overnight,” Tahno tries to reason with her as he kneels down in front of her. “You're still making progress, right?” he reminds her as he reaches out and gently takes hold of her chin, bringing her face up to look at him.

He wipes away a stray tear that spills out of her eyes while he fights back the stress induced moisture in his own. “We can't give up hope, okay? We can't give up hope,” he repeats like a mantra.

A few days later Korra curses like a sailor as she wheels herself around the house and hits her foot into a door jamb before realizing the significance of being able to feel the pain. But then as she leans down to rub at the soreness in her toes, the shock and awareness slams into her like lightning, and the irritation brought on by the sharp ache transforms into sheer giddiness in her brain. Sensation was finally returning to the lower half of her body.

“Korra! Are you alright?” Tahno calls out as he runs upstairs after hearing the loud thud and her stream of swears.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she responds, unable to keep the breathless excitement from her voice.

“Where are you?”

“Our bathroom,” she says as he makes his way through the bedroom and opens the door to find her sitting in her wheelchair and smiling for the first time since before the accident several months ago.

“What happened?” he inquires with a startled frown.

“Nothing, I just jammed my toe. Hurts like hell,” she explains, still grinning like she had won the lottery.

Tahno raises an eyebrow as he stares at her, still confused for a few seconds until the meaning of her words dawns on him. “You felt it?” he gasps in wonder, dropping down to the floor in front of her and reaching out to touch her knee.

Korra nods and even lets out a laugh as he emits a breath of amazement. Then he lowers his gaze and slowly begins trailing his hand down the length of her leg, peering up at her again to gauge her reaction. “Do you feel that too?”

She nods slightly. “It tingles.”

Then, not removing his eyes from hers, Tahno draws himself up closer and starts rubbing his hands gently up and down the outer sides of both her legs, and he observes her closely as her breathing quickens. The intensity of sensation wavers and fades in and out as his hands move to different spots on her legs, but still it’s there, and the exultation builds up within her until she can’t take it anymore.

Korra leans forward, grabbing for him, and he seems to read her mind, knowing exactly what she wants. As Tahno raises up to meet her, she plants both hands on either side of his face and kisses him with more passion than she’s felt in she doesn’t know how long. He cradles the back of her head and kisses back just as ardently, sharing in the joy that what they had been wishing and hoping for had finally happened.

Not long after, he picks her up and carries her to their bed, where they spend the rest of the day touching and experimenting and hardly believing the miracle that had occurred. After a while of the continued thrill of exploring Korra’s reviving sensations, Tahno’s traveling fingers begin moving upward, but he looks at her face hesitatingly before letting them reach their destination.

Not being able to feel anything below the waist had also meant no sexual intimacy for the past few months, but now the climbing sensations and the exhilaration they produced was seeing her arousal making a rebound as well.

Korra smirks as she murmurs, “Go for it.”

Later that night as they both begin to drift off into contented slumber, a thought keeps resonating in Korra’s head until she knows she has to voice it to Tahno. “Do you think that maybe this means I might be able to walk again too?” she mutters quietly into the still darkness of the room.

“I don’t know,” Tahno replies after thinking about it for a moment.

“Or maybe hoping that would just be pushing our luck too far,” she adds sedately. “They said I probably wouldn’t be able to feel again, but that I definitely won’t walk again.”

Tahno rolls over to face her, and she can make out the shadowy lines of his features. “I think you’re capable of anything, Korra. But even if you don’t walk again, that doesn’t mean you can’t accomplish anything else you want to.”

She smiles lovingly at the confidence in his voice. “Well, maybe it doesn’t hurt to hope,” she mumbles as a yawn overtakes her.

“Maybe not,” he agrees before pulling her against his chest and they both slip into peaceful sleep.

Love... Endures All Things

Many years later

Tahno stands by the casket and watches with continuous blurry vision as his wife is laid to rest. He holds onto his only daughter Kari's hand for support, but otherwise is caught somewhere between grief and numbness. How was he going to live on now? Korra had been his everything, the reason he got up in the morning. Most of the time it had felt like his heart beat only for her and to see her smile just one more time.

After the funeral service he went home. Kari cooks dinner for him as he sits in the living room, looking at nothing as ghosts of memories run past him. He remembers fondly how they would chase each other around the house in nothing more than their underwear when they were newly married, how they would lay on each other on the couch and have food fights with popcorn, how they would laugh about nothing until neither of them could breathe.

“Dad? Are you alright?” Kari asks as she leans against the door frame, looking so much like her mother that he nearly mistakes the two.

“I'm fine. Is dinner ready?” Tahno asks, his voice shaky as he tries to shake the images out of his head.

“Yeah, almost,” she answers before coming forward to sit next to him on the couch.

“Dad, it's okay. I know her loss was sudden, but at least we had an idea it was coming, right? Mom died happy and at peace, and if you think about it, just because she isn't physically here, it doesn't mean she's really gone. She still lives on through you and me and everyone else who loved her. We just have to endure it until we are all reunited again,” Kari tries to comfort her father as she embraces him.

Her own tears stream down her face as she struggled with knowing that she too was going to have to endure the loss of the most important woman in her life.

Tahno feels the guilt of not being strong enough for his daughter on top of everything else, but he doesn’t know what he can do about it. Korra had always been the strong one. There had been a few times when he had had to carry her emotionally, but most of the time it had been her supporting him. But Kari was right, Korra wasn’t entirely gone. She was in every pained breath he took. She was in their child. And she was also in what strength he had left to endure her loss.

Love Never Fails

Tahno walks the familiar route to Korra's grave as he glances down at the letters and flowers in his hand. He had brought her red tulips and hibiscus, along with some white jasmine this time. He smiles softly yet sadly as the flowers’ meanings pass through his mind. He had chosen the red tulips because they meant undying love, and the hibiscus because they represented rare and delicate beauty, which was exactly what Korra was. Well, that was a half-truth. She could be tough as nails, but there were also times when she would show how vulnerable she could be and he loved her for it. He loved her for everything she showed him, for everything she was, and for being the best companion any man could ask for. And lastly, there was the jasmine, which meant unconditional and eternal love, something that he knew he would always feel for her, whether she was living or not.

He comes up to the engraved headstone and looks it over carefully before taking a deep breath. This was always going to be hard, but it was giving him more closure every time he came to see her.

“Hello, beautiful,” Tahno greets, his throat tight and constricted, but he pushes past the pain. “I got you some more flowers,” he tells her as he delicately places them on the ground.

“We got another letter today. Someone named Michelle Collins got one of your kidneys,” he said as he unfolded the letter and read it out loud. “Thank you so much for another chance at life. I pray for your family and hope that they will be able to cope with loosing such a wonderful person...” Tahno stops reading as his throat spasms. His tears are already running steadily down his face, but he had ceased giving a damn if anyone saw them a long time ago.

After a moment he continues reading, “I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am to have a new lease on life. Thank you so much. Sincerely, Michelle Collins,” Tahno finishes and smiles despite his heartache. “I thought you should know how much you’ve helped other people. That always made you happier than anything else.”

He sighs heavily as he folds up the letter and puts it back in his pocket. “I also wanted to let you know that Kari started dating a new guy. His name is Milton, but for some reason everyone calls him Doug. Apparently he’s really smart or something, but I’m still reserving judgment. He treats Kari well though, so I guess we shouldn’t complain too much. Kari is doing great in college, by the way. Straight A's, and all of her professors rave about how talented she is,” Tahno informs Korra as he wipes the tears from his eyes and his voice starts to even out again.

“So since your death, I’ve been running a program in your honor that helps kids in wheelchairs get service dogs and medical treatment and other therapy that they need. So far we've helped twenty-six kids. Isn’t that great?” Tahno says with a hopeful smile that quickly fades.

His head drops forwards and his eyes screw shut as he holds onto to everything he has in order to not break down. It happened like this sometimes. Suddenly he would just become overwhelmed by her absence and his shattering grief. “Korra,” he sobbed bitterly, not doing a good job at keeping the anguish at bay. “I’m completely lost without you. I feel like I'm failing you. I'm trying to do what you would want me to do, what you always did, and that's to help people, but... it's just not the same. I wish I could have you back. I would give anything to have you back. I miss you so much it feels like my heart has been ripped into a million pieces and it will never be put back together.”

He breathed raggedly for a few minutes before speaking again, “I don't know if I can do this for much longer. There are times my mind plays tricks on me and I wake up in bed with you in my arms like I always used to, or I walk by the balcony to see you sitting there looking out over the ocean. Sometimes I look at Kari and swear I'm seeing you. Sometimes I hear you laugh or see your face in a crowd. I swear I'm going crazy, Korra.”

He finally gives in and sinks to his knees, feeling as though someone were literally stabbing his heart with a knife, through his chest, through his back, and all around. “I love you, Korra. That’s one thing I’ll never fail at,” he whispers with a shuddering breath, tracing the carved letters of her name in the gravestone over and over.

The light begins to fade and he knows it’s time to go, but he can’t yet. ‘Just a little longer,’ he reasons. He sits with his back against the stone, closing his eyes and bringing up her face in his mind as he mentally kisses and caresses her. Wishing with every ounce of his being that they could have just grown old together.

At least they had been together, even if it hadn’t been nearly long enough. They had a love to last a lifetime, maybe several lifetimes. And it would never fail.

End Notes-