the warpath home - (be-the-peaf week 60)
Title: the warpath home
Word Count: 6,115
Summary: [He’s never fought air before – he never realized how much it could hurt. | Mako. Korra. Other. Makorra. Post-Book 3.]A/N: I know there’s been a million other post-book 3 recovery!fics but here’s one more to add in the mix! The process of writing this was weird…. This fic is weird…. Mako’s tired, Korra’s tired,
I’M tired.Title comes from a song from the FFXIII OST. Typos and boo-boos will be looked for tomorrow.I’ve been writing for two days straight.-.-
be-the-peaf · Prompt 060 – change
-.-
They come home.
The air is heavy, the world moves too fast – Korra has been through death and back again and something is changed. The world is not, and for a moment they’re all stunned by the sheer life going on around them. The shift of cars on the street, the noise of horns and the faint smell of factory smoke trickles through the window as they fly three hundred feet overhead.
The airship lands just above the island’s dusty courtyard and Mako spends a moment looking out the window as the crew attaches the landing cables, staring at the twinkling city across the waters of the bay. It’s been a good month since they’ve seen the city, and he should be glad they’re finally home. But as the Zaofu metalbenders carry Korra’s unconscious body through the hall with the rest of their wounded trailing behind the city takes a dimmer light in his eyes. All his longing for home and comfort fade, and he turns away from the window, following Bolin and Asami to prepare beds for the injured.
This isn’t a victory.
.
.
.
Mako spends a good hour lying in bed, too awake to sleep, too tired to think.
He sends a hard sigh at the ceiling and decides this is crap. The airbenders are safe, the Red Lotus are gone and they all came back alive. Everything’s okay – so why is he still awake?
His only answer is Bolin’s whistling sleep talk beside him and Mako rolls to his side, folding the pillow in half and shoving his head into it. The mattress creaks beneath his weight and he sighs again, a little lighter, frustrated over his inability to sleep. If anything, he should be out cold with all the fighting and traveling they’ve done. But something is wrong, and he can’t figure what. The thought alone gnaws at his brain like a lemur trying to crack a nut between its teeth. Mako closes his eyes and hopes it will just go away and let his aching body get some much needed rest.
He doesn’t remember if he gets it in the end, because the next time he opens his eyes the room is lit up and bright with a tussled mess of sheets in the bed beside his and Bolin nowhere to be found. His limbs feel like they’re being weighed down by rocks, but he gets up anyway, pulling on his jacket and running a hand up through his bedhead as he goes out the door. He hopes it’ll look somewhat normal by the time his feet reach the dining hall.
If he had any dreams that night, he can’t remember them.
.
.
.
The room is close to empty when he arrives. A few acolytes sit here and there across the sunlit room, but as far as members of their party goes, he sees none. Mako sits at the table closest to himself, the acolyte sitting in the opposite corner waves to him and he returns a short nod, avoiding the monk’s almost fixated gaze as he reaches to the middle of the table to retrieve a bowl of rice. He eats silently, taking each bite with careful thought as he waits for the rest of the team to show up. But they never do, and Mako takes one more bite and swallows, tucking the bowl beside his ribs as he rises from the table to clean it out.
He’s pushing the noren from his face when Pema runs into him.
“There you are!” she exclaims, not missing a beat as she takes the bowl from his hand as she backs into the kitchen. “We’ve been wondering when you were going to get up!”
Mako brushes the cloth from his eyes one more time, watching from the entrance as Pema dips the small rice bowl into the bubble filled water. Even with everything that’s happened, there’s still a smile on her face as she works. Mako feels uneasy watching her act so normal, but he knows he has his own ways to cope with things.
Smiling wasn’t one of them.
“Where are the others?” he asks.
“Let’s see… Asami and Bolin are helping the Zaofu folk get their airship packed, and the kids are helping bring food to the dormitories,” she rubs a rag around the bowl twice before running the soap suds off with a rinse of water. She dries her hands and brings a small tray with a teapot and a few rolls and rice to him.
“Could you bring that to the guest room down the hall?” she asks. “I need to get this place cleaned up before noon and Tonraq’s been awake there all night. He needs his strength.”
Mako takes the tray with ease.
“Of course.”
.
.
.
Their fight with the Red Lotus ended two days ago, and Mako is sure Tonraq has not left his daughter’s side since then. Still dressed in his tattered clothes, Tonraq sits beside Korra’s bed, looking beyond the phrase ‘worse for wear’. There’s a rough shadow growing along his jaw and bags puff out from beneath his eyes, looking heavier with every minute that passes and his hands are moist from holding onto her hand tight hour after hour. It’s been days since he’s slept a wink and from the doorway Mako feels like he’s intruding, standing unnoticed with his meager tray of snacks. But he knows it’s been this way since they got there, and it’s going to be that way long after he leaves. Suyin was able to get the poison out in time and the healers have done all they could, but her body is still weak from the horrid venom – her fight isn’t over yet.
Korra turns in sleep, her face twisting in feverish pain and Tonraq lifts her hand, leaning closer to the bed with a grip of steel as if to hold her to the world. He presses the back of her hand to his lips and Mako casts his eyes on the tray, remembering a time where he held her hand as she slept, worn-out and utterly exhausted from fighting, and it feels like an eon ago rather than a year.
Things have changed so much since then –
Mako waits for Tonraq to lower her hand, and enters the room.
As hard as he tries to direct the man to his presence, the Chief of the South barely seems to notice him as he crosses the room, the tray jingling with each step he takes. Mako stops before the man and clears his throat loudly. Tonraq’s head whips at him and for a second, Mako sees fire burn beneath the older man’s eyes, anticipation and tense nerves ready to pounce, but as soon as he makes contact with him it dissipates, the fire dimming into nothing more than a flickering candle.
“What are you doing here?” Tonraq’s head sags back to look at his daughter. Mako holds up the tray.
“Pema asked me to bring you this.”
Tonraq looks at the tray, takes one of the rolls and brings it to his mouth.
“Thanks,” he mutters, and Mako knows he’s not trying to be rude, he’s just tired and worried. But now Mako doesn’t know what to do, so he stands, fidgeting with the tray for a few seconds before he catches sight of the small table beside Tonraq and sets it there. He makes to leave, but Tonraq’s voice stops him.
“Wait,” he says, looking at the boy. “Why don’t you stay for a few minutes? I could use the company.”
Mako hesitates for a moment, then he goes to grab an empty chair resting by the wall on the other side of the room. He lifts it up, as to not make any noise that would wake Korra up, and awkwardly waddles it back to the bed, setting it at its base. Korra is right in front of him, Tonraq is at his side. Mako sits, and he doesn’t know what to say – or if he should say anything at all.
But as time passes and he settles with his place in the room (which seems so big for all of them to be huddled to one side – maybe he should have sat farther away…) with Tonraq still looking at Korra, still holding her hand tight he realizes that sometimes the best thing to do is be silent. Be there. He’s good at that.
Well, he thinks he’s good at that.
.
.
.
When Korra wakes up a day later, everyone is ecstatic. Dawn is breaking over the island, Ikki and Meelo glide through the halls atop their airscooters, telling anyone and everyone who is awake (and those who are not) the good news. Tenzin, still bandaged and bruised from the fight, leans into Pema’s side and hurries down the hall as fast as he can manage. Their children lead the way with smiles and giggling cheers as they tell them to “Hurry, hurry!” as if Korra would go back to sleep before they got there. He, Bolin and Asami reach the door after the airbending master, all of them breathless, and Tenzin turns around to give Ikki a stern stay quiet and Meelo a reminder not to jump on the bed and then they enter the room.
As big as it was yesterday, the guest room is crowded and it seems as if the entire population of the island has gathered and cramped themselves into it, even though it’s just the company they brought back from Zaofu and the Northern Air Temple, with the exception of the metalbender guards who traveled home yesterday and most of the new Air Nomads, who are sleeping in the dormitories. Healers from the city gather first and foremost at Korra’s side; checking vital signs, blood pressure, asking who she is and what the date is. She says her title and informs them that she doesn’t know what day it is, and the healers nod and talk amongst themselves, writing her response on paper before telling her they’ll be back to check on her later and to get plenty of rest.
They shuffle out, and the remainder of the room is brimming with joyous energy, all of them smiling – happy that she has awoken. Korra casts her eyes across the room, lingering on every one of their faces for a brief moment and then lowers her gaze. She sinks into the bed, and Tonraq settles in his chair by the bedside, stroking some hair from her face while Meelo approaches from the other end, peaking his head up like a tiny groundhog popping out of its hole. She looks at him and tries to return the boy’s happy grin, but it doesn’t go very far.
She still looks tired, and Mako can’t help but feel there’s too many people in the room. So he stands next to Asami and Bolin near the door, and while her gaze is locked on Tenzin, who asks how she’s feeling, he taps both their shoulders and slides into the hall. Pema and the kids come out a moment later, and Ikki moans, asking why they had to leave so soon.
Pema crouches down to her daughter’s level and says “You can see her later, she still needs a lot of rest.”
Mako looks back once as all of them walk down the hall. He hopes the next morning will be easier.
.
.
.
It’s another day and a half before he gets to see Korra again. This time, the room is emptier, with just him, Asami and Bolin around the bed. Korra asks how they are, if they’re hurt and what happened to the rest of the Red Lotus. Tenzin and Tonraq wouldn’t tell her much, she explains, only that they were defeated, and Zaheer is back in the isolated prison cell where he belongs. Mako downplays everything with the smallest of details (We’re fine, no, and they got what they deserved) while Bolin goes all out, explaining everything from when they were trapped in the temple, how he’s a lavabender now and a million other things Mako had forgotten about that day.
The concept of tact has never been Bolin’s strong point, even if he is trying to get her mind on things other than rest, sleep, bed. Korra takes everything with a face void of expression and Mako tightens his hands on his arms as Bolin rambles on, but it’s Asami who ultimately stops him, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder to tell him thatmaybe that’s a little too much for now. Bolin quiets down and looks away sheepishly while Asami asks Korra if there’s anything they can bring her to make her more comfortable. The question is good-hearted, but it only seems to sully Korra’s already downcast mood, and she replies that she’s doesn’t need them to do anything for her.
“What about a bath?” Asami asks, leaning in to pinch a few strands of Korra’s dirty hair between her fingers. “It would probably do you good to get cleaned up.”
Korra nods in agreement and Asami smiles, clearing the blankets from Korra’s body in a single sweep. Holding onto Asami’s shoulder, Korra drags her legs to the side of the bed and places them to the floor. Aside from the slowness of it all, things are going smoothly and Mako makes a sharp jab with his thumb at Bolin toward the door. They aren’t needed for the rest of this.
The brothers are out of the room for all of two seconds when they hear the resoundingthud of Korra’s body hitting the floor. They’re back in an instant, running to the women’s side as Asami leans with a face full of guilt, asking if she’s alright.
“Mako, Bolin, help me get her to the bed,” Asami says, but Korra grabs onto the girl’s arm before she can make room for them to lift her up.
“It’s fine,” she says. “Just carry me to the bathroom.”
The three of them exchange looks for a second time, then Bolin crouches beside Korra. He places his hand carefully, easing her into his body as he lifts her as gently as he can. Mako goes ahead to run the bath water and Asami walks beside them with her brow wrung together, still guilty about her fall. They take her to the bathroom, and Bolin sets her on the edge of the tub. Checking the water temperature with one finger, Mako holds her up while Asami begins to pull her pants off but stops when Korra presses her hand to the wall, saying she can hold herself up just fine. Even though he can see her arm shaking from the small pressure of holding her body upright, Mako removes his hands and leaves the room.
Asami alone stays with her, saying it’ll be faster if she has someone to help her wash, but steam is still coming from the closed off room an hour later. Bolin’s head dips as he leans into the wall as time passes, the sticky heat lulling him into sleep and Mako rustles his brother’s shoulder before he falls over completely, and tells him to go to bed. Bolin yawns in response and heads out the door. Night creeps over the island and Mako sits beside the door, waiting for another half an hour before Asami opens the door to tell him to bring Korra back to the room.
She’s sitting on the edge of the tub when he enters, hair dripping with water and she wraps her arm over his shoulders as he picks her up, as careful as Bolin did before, and takes her to the hall. She feels like a load of bricks, her body nearly limp against him and it’s now that he notices the dark marks running along her arms, masked previously by dirt and grim. There’s no mistake in his mind that the bruising runs all over her body, and there are many more wounds within her he cannot see. And if they hurt as bad as they look, he’s not surprised she’s still riddled with exhaustion. Her eyes are barely open when he sets her on the bed, and Asami pulls the covers over her body as she falls into a deep and much needed slumber.
Mako closes the door as soon as they step foot in the hall and sighs into the dark shadows. Asami touches his shoulder.
“It’ll take time.”
He can’t tell exactly what she’s talking about, but he nods to her all the same. She lowers the hand and Mako follows Asami through the darkness. He feels cramped walking in the halls, feels isolated on the island.
There’s nowhere to go that won’t bring him back to–
Then he decides; tomorrow he’ll go to the city.
.
.
.
Despite all the time he’s missed, Beifong gave him a week off for recovery, so when Mako steps off the ferry with a face full of hot sunlight, he isn’t sure what to do. He walks the streets with little direction, hands shoves in his pockets as the city whirls around him, full of life. With everything that has happened in the Earth Kingdom these past few weeks, the city remains the same. Its cars sweep through the roads, its people bustle between the buildings and its markets and shops are full and busy. For a moment, he almost thinks he can forget about it – about Ba Sing Se, the Red Lotus, the Northern Air Temple – all of it.
Nothing’s changed.
He keeps walking forward, down the street that stretches from the bay to the back edge of the city, and wonders if he can make it all the way down in a day, how long it would take him to do so. His pace quickens as he sets his eyes on the goal far ahead of him, barely noticing the crowd growing around him as he ventures into the busier part of the city. He shifts through bodies, squeezes between shoulders and bumps into backs. Then all at once he’s sprinting, racing down the street. Wind blows the collar of his jacket back and breath hisses over his teeth. He can’t see the crowd anymore, can’t see the street or the buildings that tower around him. He’ll make it to the edge of the city – to the base of the mountain range.
He doesn’t know what he’ll do after that.
.
.
.
He runs seven blocks before he runs out of breath. With muscles still aching from fighting, he collapses into a wall, sweating and spiting onto the ground as his hand feels the rough brick. The sun beats down as he sits beside the building and Mako looks into the afternoon sky, thinking about how ridiculous he must look, to have run nearly a mile through the city for no reason at all but to run.
How useless, he thinks.
The people who pass him look at him with question, eying his tired state with a piercing glance before hurrying along their way. It’s a look of disgust and unknowing and he remembers those same looks from long ago, when he and Bolin sleep and begged on the streets. This city isn’t kind to orphans, or bums sitting on its streets. Mako presses the top of his head into the wall and stretches his legs so far into the sidewalk that he nearly trips someone. He receives a stink eye in response but he doesn’t care. His muscle are sore, they ache from running and fighting and his mind is full of white noise, as clear as the sky above.
Nothing’s changed.
It should be a comforting thought, but it isn’t – not quite.
.
.
.
It’s dusk by the time he gets back to the Air Temple. Mako walks up the steps leading to the men’s dormitory, his clothes stinking of sweat and the outside air and wonders if he should wash up now or in the morning, when everyone’s awake. He decides on the former (otherwise he’d have to wash the smell from the sheets) and Mako lights a small flame in his palm, lighting the way forward as he heads to the showers across the yard.
“Mako?”
He recognizes the voice and turns slowly, drawing the flame to light Asami’s face. She looks at him with caution, as if she was unsure if he was really him or not, then sighs and brings her hand to touch her face. The other is hold a handful of candles.
“We’ve been looking for you for hours,” she says. “Where have you been?”
“I told you before: I was going out to the city.”
“But you didn’t say where.”
Mako looks away from her. “I was just walking,” he says. “I needed to get away for a few hours.”
“Why?”
He doesn’t have an answer. They stand facing each other in silence, then Asami shifts, rolling the candlesticks between her hands.
“Well I’m glad you’re alright,” she says, walking past him to head to the main building. Mako lifts his flame, keeping her in the light as she walks away.
“Where are you going?”
“Tenzin asked if I could keep an eye on Korra tonight,” she replies. “Tonraq’s been by her side almost every day now, he needs to get a good night’s sleep without having to worry about her.”
“Oh…” he says, his eyes scanning the ground. “How… how is she?”
“Still in pain, but she’s a lot better than before,” she says. “You’re heading this way, right? Why don’t you come see her?”
His voice comes out in a stutter. “I- … It’s getting late,” he says. “She’s probably sleeping by now.”
“Well, at least come with me to light these candles,” Asami says. “The ones in the hall need to be replaced, and I can never remember where the matches are.”
Mako sighs.
“Sure.”
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.
.
Asami replaces every candle winding down Korra’s hall with careful, slow precision. Mako finds it slightly annoying (–all he wants to do it take his shower and go to bed–) but he stays with her pace anyway, lighting the wick of the fresh stick of wax with the pinch of his fingers. The hall lights up one-by-one, but it’s still incredibly dark and Mako wonders why they don’t just run electrical lights through the buildings like they do the outside(they have radio so they must have power somewhere here–) He chalks it up to some Air Nomad tradition…thing and drops the pestering thought altogether. Wishing for lights and wires isn’t going to make them appear tonight, and the faster he gets this done, the sooner he can leave.
“I’m going to check on Korra quick,” Asami says as they reach the front of her door. “It’ll just be a minute.”
Mako’s mouth opens to tell her he can finish replacing the candles himself, but Asami has already gone into the room taking the candles with her. Sighing, he walks into the room to retrieve them, only to find Asami hovering over Korra with a face full of fear.
“Korra! Korra, wake up!” she says, shaking the girl’s shoulder. “It’s just a dream!”
Candles forgotten, Mako is at Korra’s side in four strides. Asami tries vigorously to wake her up, but Korra squirms away from every advancement to wake her from the dream. Her hands dig into her arms, her legs tense and twitch beneath the sheets. Mako looks to Asami, but it is clear she doesn’t know what would wake her. Shaking isn’t helping, and he’s pretty sure she can’t hear either.
“I’ll get Tonraq!” Asami says, running out the door before Mako can get a word in. Korra continues to toss on the bed, kicking the sheets to the floor, nails dragging down her arms as she tries in vain to get away from the source of her nightmare. It’s hard enough to break the skin, and as soon as Mako sees that he takes hold of her wrists and pins them to the mattress. She fights, jabbing him in the gut with one of her knees and he pins those too, pressing the weight of his body down to hold her in place.
“Korra, it’s alright,” he says. “It’s just a dream, only a nightmare–”
Korra jolts and her eyes open hot white, the glow of the Avatar State burning through the room. Mako winces, turning his head away as she gains the strength to overcome him and suddenly air bursts around her and he goes flying off the bed. He hits the wall so hard it knocks the wind from his chest and he wheezes, gasping for breath on the floor as Korra struggles to stand on the bed, fear and pain turned to adrenaline and rage that sinks into his bones, and she has to wake up now – she has to, or he’s sure she’ll–
Then something snaps, breaks, or crumbles because suddenly the glow fades and Korra falls to her knees. Her body goes limp, curling in on itself as she presses her head hard against the mattress, hands tangled in her hair. Asami and Tonraq enter, and the older man rushes to his daughter’s side, holding the girl to his chest as she groans, face tight with pain, and he whispers into her hair it’ll be alright, sweetheart, I’m here, I’m here…
Mako remains frozen in place on the floor and Asami pulls him arm up to help him to his feet. He stands on the ground shakily, a small tremor sending shivers through his body. He holds onto Asami, and she leads him out of the room. In the hall, she examines him beneath the candlelight, her face inches from his, he meets her eyes twice as she looks him over.
“Are you hurt?” she asks. “Do you need me to get someone?”
Mako shakes his head no as Asami steps back and he mutters “I’m fine” as he takes a jarring step to the right. One foot after another, he walks away from Asami until he somehow finds his way to his original destination: the showers. He pulls off his clothes, piling them on the floor as he turns the knob to ‘on’.
The water is ice cold but he doesn’t wait for it to warm. The freeze will help calm his startled nerves, so he closes his eyes and takes deep, long breaths as he steps beneath the spout – heating his core with chi as air fills his diaphragm. Water runs down his spine and he stares, unfocused, at his feet, then raises his arms into view. There are some old bruises from his battles, some marks and scuffs that have yet to heal but otherwise they’re fine and whole – exactly as they should be. The limbs drop to his side and he sticks his head beneath the water, his mind going white for the second time that day.
He waits until he can’t remember why he went there in the first place, and turns the water off.
Things haven’t changed – they’ve gotten worse.
He won’t sleep well tonight.
.
.
.
The next morning, he counts the days since they returned on his hands (one… two… three… four……) and decides that’s more than enough time for him to have been away. He’ll go to the station – at least then he’ll have something to do.
He heads out into the courtyard with the scent of morning dew hanging in the air. It’s very early, and he hopes the time will put him at an advantage. Beifong doesn’t come in until nearly ten, it’ll give him plenty of time to get himself settled without having to worry about getting thrown out.
.
.
.
Paperwork piles up.
Especially when you’re away for a month.
It isn’t the kind of work he expected to get his mind off things, but it is mind-numbing, so it does the same thing anyway. The stacks stand half the length of his body on the desk, one of either side of the desk. He works at it slowly, reading over the reports and cases he missed in his time away, scribbling down notes and signing his name where it need to be. And when the Chief walks in (exactly at ten) at a brisk pace, her metal uniform sounding her approach, he’s not even sure she notices he’s back. She shuts her office with a sweep of air passing through the room. Mako hangs onto the tops of his piles, holding the paper in place and takes it as a sign that it’s okay for him to be here.
After all, he’s just doing paperwork.
.
.
.
It’s sundown by the time he makes it three-quarters through the first stack, and his brain is dead. But he keeps reviewing, reading and learning, even as the last officer bids him goodnight. It’s then, with the first pile finally complete, that he sags back into his chair and stretches his stiff joints wide. A long yawn passes through his body, and he wonders how he could feel this tired from sitting all day.
With the light turned off and the door shut tight, Mako removes the layers of his uniform and settles on the floor beneath his desk. A wave of pain goes through him as his back hits the floor, and he prods the skin softly, pressing with curious hands, trying to find the source of discomfort and when he knocks the side of his arm on the underside of the desk he realizes the pain is coming not from the floor, but from within him. He sits up, holding his bare arm toward the small crack of light coming from the door. It’s then that he sees the forming of dark black line wrapping along his skin. He touches it gingerly, and finds when he applies too much pressure the pain is bad enough to give him a dull headache. These wounds are fresh, made within the day, and Mako thinks back until he comes into the moment from the previous night, where he was thrown across the room by nothing but wind lashing at him.
He’s never fought air before – he never realized how much it could hurt.
Mako grabs his jacket and bunches it beneath his back. The pain doesn’t hurt as much, and if he keeps his arms still, that goes away too. All that’s left is a dull throb coursing through his body, and eventually he falls into a deep sleep.
Beifong wakes him up early with a kick to the foot (it’s definitely not ten) and tells him to “be out of here by noon, kid”
Mako’s too sore to say anything. His back hurts when he stands.
.
.
.
“Bro, what happened to your arms?!”
“I hit them on my desk,” he replies, hovering a hand over the skin. Bolin leans in to get a closer look and Mako snaps his arm back. “It’s nothing.”
“Looks pretty bad,” Bolin says, rubbing his chin slowly. “You know, you really need to be more careful, Mako, who knows what–”
“Hey guys!”
Mako can’t help but feel relief when he hears Asami’s voice cut his nosy brother off. It is short lived, however, because when he turns to greet her to find Korra coming at them in a wheelchair, his mind goes to the exact opposite of relief. Asami pushes the metal contraption up to them, and smiles, patting the handle with pride.
“Pema thought this might help Korra’s recovery,” she says. “Can’t be cooped up in one place all the time, you know.”
Bolin marvels at the wheelchair “what a great idea!” while Mako tries to hide his arms behind his back. Korra looks at him as if she knows he’s hiding something, but says nothing, and soon her focus shifts to Bolin, who is explaining how he was just about to go find a good place on the island to practice his newfound lavabending.
“I think I know a place,” Asami says, smiling. “But it’s not a very good spot to take a wheelchair… Would you mind taking her, Mako? We were just going to go take a walk over to the gazebo.”
“Yeah…” Mako says, trying to sound cheerful. “Sure thing.”
Asami puts her hands together. “Great! I’ll bring some ice tea when I get back!”
She goes off with Bolin (“could we get some tea now?”) and Mako is left with Korra. At first he does nothing but watch their two companions get further and further away, until he remember right – the gazebo and he smiles awkwardly and steps behind the chair. He feels more comfortable out of her view, where the dark blotches on his skin won’t cause her any grief. It’s quiet stroll, the only noise coming from when the wheels hit bumps on the ground (which is all the time) and soon Mako wheels her beneath the shade of the gazebo.
And he stands there.
Now what? He wonders, and the grin plastered to his face widens as he looks over the cliff. There’s nothing but sea that way and city the next. He doesn’t know which one is best, so he waits for Korra to pick a side for him. But when he leans over the chair he finds she’s facing neither, instead she stares into her lap, hands folded calmly across the legs and the silence is making him nervous. He needs to do something.
“So, uh…” he begins. “How about this weather?”
As soon as that leaves his mouth, he cringes, shaking his head (nice small talk, genius). Korra doesn’t say anything in response. In fact, she doesn’t even respond, or make any indication that she even heard him. Mako crouches in front of her and looks at her face. It’s been nearly a week – she should be getting better, but instead she looks ten times worse. There are bags under her eyes, he’s not sure if she’s been sleeping.
He puts a hand on the armrest.
“Hey – are you okay?”
She gaze flickers, going straight to his arm and Mako quickly pulls it out of her view, but knows it’s too late. She saw what she needed to see, he can tell by the way her body sighs in the chair. It’s a long time before either of them say anything. Korra pinches her knuckles in silence, Mako tries to remember to breath.
Then, she speaks.
“Sorry.”
Mako takes a deep breath – ready to answer – and breathes it out.
“It’s not your fault,” he says. “You didn’t know it was me.”
“I did,” she says. “I knew you were there – Asami too. I could hear you trying to wake me up, but every time I tried I couldn’t–”her fingers dig into her hand “–and then I was standing and…”
Mako takes her hands and places his between them. Her hand presses into his, and Mako leans down, finds her eyes and holds them. She looks so scared, so tired and beaten by her own mind and he hates that – but he doesn’t know what else to do.
He lowers his gaze, and swallows.
“Korra–”
“Hey!”
He leans over and sees Asami walking quickly to the gazebo, carrying a tray of ice tea and some glasses. Korra’s hand loosens at the sound of her voice, her head turns as she hears Asami walk up the steps. Balancing the tray on the rail, Asami turns to them and smiles.
“What were you two talking about?”
Mako stands, and Korra lowers her gaze.
“Nothing,” he says. “We were just trying to find the best place that was out of the sun.”
Asami scans the gazebo and wheels Korra over to a spot near the left side.
“I think here would be best – hey!” she shouts, catching sight of Mako’s shrinking back. “Where are you going?”
“I have things to do,” he says. “Enjoy the tea.”
Mako doesn’t look behind. He keeps walking, step after step, stride after stride with his hand dug deep into his pockets, hoping that he won’t be able to see her tired face when he turns around again.
Things have changed – and they’re still trying to find their way home.
:Fin:
If I write another fic there a character sleep multiple time in it I might actually fall asleep midway through writing it.Like I said in the author’s note above, this one is really… odd (to me). Usually I have a plan when I write, some kind of vague idea where I want it to go and this one… didn’t. It just kept going until it ended. *shrugs* Well, hopefully it was decent, cause I’ve been doing this for the last day and a half and my brain is FRIED.
Aaand here’s a little link to the askbox if you’d like to tell me what you thought of this.
I’m not expecting much though…
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