across time & space

[anatural]

WHO: Hei & Korra
WHAT: Hei’s been missing for years.

[Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? As Korra watches Mako walk down the beach path, she kind of regrets telling him she was fine. The air feels a lot chillier without his companionable warmth. But he's no better at comfort sex than Bolin is; they're both too romantic. Of all her friends, Asami's the only one who really understands the occasional need for intimacy without its attendant baggage. Too bad Asami's out of town.

Korra smiles and shakes her head as she opens the front door. It doesn't matter. Nights like this are why she remodeled the house so Naga could come inside. The polar bear dog's warm, solid presence is like a campfire, a soft blanket, and hot tea all in one affectionate package.

Speaking of — Naga pokes her head out of the bedroom door and whines a question.]

I'm sorry, girl. She didn't make it. [Even with Korra to stabilize her wounds and the best vet in Republic City, Cat's injuries from the hit & run accident were too severe.

One by one, everything that connects her to Hei is vanishing. A few months after he was officially declared dead, Yin went missing. Her black cat died, and some guy with a poodlebird from Future Industries took all the computer equipment. She's had to renovate the house a few times, due to storms and other emergencies. And now Cat.

It makes Korra feel sad, but mostly it makes her feel old. The normal bumps and pains that occur over a lifetime have been crammed into less than a decade; she's still a few years shy of thirty, but she feels like she's her mother's age sometimes.

Naga nuzzles her shoulder comfortingly, and Korra takes the invitation to wrap her arms around her and bury her face in the polar bear dog's fur.]

I'm tired of losing people.

Comments

/writes u a novel u////u

[mortemscintilla]

[ He's learnt a few things, on his journey. Learnt that space is absolutely black, as only perfect emptiness can be. As if the light dissolves directly into it, swallowed by the eerie nothingness that exists between the stars. ]

[ Sometimes, after his kata, practicing the styles he's absorbed with patient precision from the crew, from the mok'bara to the suus mahna, he takes a breather by the starport window. One foot propped against the bulkhead; his cheek rests against the plexiglass so his breath leaves gray streaks across the stars. He's developed a quiet fascination with watching the Enterprise leave the atmosphere of different planets. He tells Chekov that it's like night falling in fast-forward, not in the sky but everywhere, the stars blossoming like an astrological chart to guide him home. ]

[ Home, where Korra, Yin and Mao are. ]

[ The crew have kept up a search for Korra's world. A side-project at Chekov's (noisy) behest. Not out of the goodness of their hearts, but because 'Li's status isn't stowaway so much as stolen goods. He was supposed to get an unofficial tour of the ship -- not be snatched from his planet when controls malfunctioned on the bridge and the coordinates of Korra's world went askew. Since then, the crew have set up a process that probes adjacent solar systems, watching for sign of the planet. It is a very long shot, they tell Hei, because the dimensions of space, the solar doppelgangers, are infinite. But maybe... ]

[ Hei doesn't obsess over it. He has certain routines, even in the midst of the space travel. Hours where he allows himself to think of Korra, to mourn and miss her, and others where he refuses to let himself think of her at all, because it's imperative to stay in the moment, to keep going. ]

[ Time works differently in different galaxies. He learns not to keep track of it. To focus his energies on staying afloat in a completely different realm of technology and culture. To assimilate while remaining the self that those he is trekking towards will recognize. Because if he isn't Hei when arrives, the Hei that Korra had inexplicably fallen in love with, there is no point to returning. ]

[ He only hopes, when he gets there, that Korra is still alive. ]

[ The last step of the journey -- he doesn't now it's going to be the last place, except in the sense that, once again, the controls at the bridge go haywire, the way they'd done when he'd first ended up trapped on the Enterprise -- there are sparks, and malfunctioning equipment, and panic and flames, and he is near the transporter room when something shorts out in a brilliant flare and he feels a hot-cold prickle surge through him. ]

[ Hei stumbles, breath knocked out of him, and the abrupt darkness is total. He can't feel his limbs, yet still he struggles, expecting to feel pain, or glimpse some part of his anatomy on fire. Then there is light -- orange and pink, and he is on his hands and knees. When the dizziness releases its grip and he lifts his head, something enormous looms above; he shies against its crashing down on him. ]

[ It doesn't. It stays there. A regal, sharply-etched shadow, struck by the glow of the setting sun. ]

[ He is under the statue of Avatar Korra. Erected in the park, not long after Future Industries began rebuilding the vine-battered city. A group of laughing teenagers jog by the walkway; satomobiles whizz by on the busy service road beyond the fence, tires screeching and horns shrilling. The air, a waft of drying leaves, stagnant water and fresh grass, is the most natural aroma Hei has inhaled in over a year. ]

[ Fuck. ]

[ What just happened? ]

[ Dry-mouthed, shaky, he staggers out of the park. On the streets, there is endless unceasing movement. The headlights of the satomobiles and the colored traffic lights and the people moving around him are like abstract patterns. Unreal. Hei's clothes -- the equivalent of a maroon and black jumpsuit, reserved for visitors aboard the ship -- get sidelong glances. But most dismiss it as an air-bender's uniform. Near a restaurant door, he spots a UNITED DAILY box. Bends over to peer at the front page. The date on the paper is 180 AG. It was 177 when he'd slipped aboard the Enterprise for a tour and ended up hurled into the depths of space. ]

[ 11 months have elapsed for him, but he's been gone from here almost three years. ]

[ Dazed as he is, the walk seems to do him good. By the time he's found his way to the Beach House, feeling like a ghost, some of the strength has come back into his limbs, and his head feels a little clearer, though the ache of disorientation still grips his temples. It is a cool, pleasant night, the sky full of familiar stars. Still early -- he'd retraced his way back home around 8:00. It is probably 9:30 now as he comes up the path to the porch. ]

[ The place looks so different. Maybe Korra isn't here anymore? Maybe he should go to Air Temple Island? ]

[ Except Hei can see familiar pawprints in the sand. Naga. If she's here, then surely Korra can't be gone? ]

[ Heart hammering, Hei raises a hand to ring the bell. Then -- in a delayed wallop of Oh shit I'm home -- his knees judder, and he lands with a heavy thud against the door. ]

a beautiful novel

[anatural]

[Korra had cried herself to sleep against Naga's fur, feeling a little silly. Cat had never liked her much, even after Hei was gone. They weren't exactly beloved companions. But it felt good to let the tears out with someone who didn't judge and didn't mind. Naga, while always sympathetic, never seemed bothered by her tears. She never had to try & stop them for the polar bear dog's benefit.

She tries very hard not to think about the average lifespan of a polar bear dog.

Naga perks up even before the door thuds; Korra doesn't wake up, assuming the dog just smells prey. The thud jolts her awake, adrenaline spiking the way it always does, and always will, when she's taken by surprise.]

What was that? [Definitely not just a branch in the wind... Naga's tail is thumping, and she lets out a soft wuff of excitement. Korra pushes herself to her feet and heads for the front door.]

Ryu? [No, not Ryu. For a moment, her heart stops completely. The airbender at the door — or Air Nation wanna-be, she's never seen a uniform like that — looks just like Hei.]

/blushu >////>

[mortemscintilla]

[ Ryu? Really? ]

[ The thought flickers through Hei's mind in a moment of delirious irritation. He can't help it. He wants to be steady, calm, controlled, even as time -- his time, Korra's time -- overlaps and crunches together like glittering bits of glass, a terrible mess scraping his psyche into a raw red. God -- how many times has he stood at this doorway? It looks so strange now -- the whole house does. All those soft lights and pale blond wooden surfaces don't seem real. ]

[ Korra doesn't seem real either. Her face has never looked like this in his dreams: the light throwing itself off the curve of her cheekbones with a statuesque smoothness, every eyelash and eyebrow-hair sharp and distinct, the little pores on the sides of her nose visible, the whites of her eyes bloodshot, as if she'd been asleep or crying or both. ]

[ But fuck, she is so beautiful. All warm and succulent and ... he wants to reach for her. The goodness shines off her like a radiance. ]

[ Then he realizes that he can't see anything beyond the orange porchlight and the blur of Korra's face. His head is pounding too ferociously. An after-effect of being hurled through different times and atmospheres -- even different dimensions. How, he wonders, had Amber endured it? ]

[ Then he can't think at all. Lurching forward, he moves to catch Korra -- a solid anchor of truth while the world spins in a crazy riot of unreal color around him. ]

[anatural]

[Hey, it makes more sense than believing Hei is back from the dead.

Yet he is. Her eyes have lied to her before; she's seen his face too often in a stranger's to trust them. But his scent hits her like a knife to the heart, so much more powerful that the lingering whiffs she can still catch sometimes in their bedsheets. She lets him wrap his arms around her, too shocked to do anything more than stand there dumbly.]

.....How?

[They all saw the meteor shower that night. Tenzin had told her it was probably just coincidence, but when Hei hadn't come home, she'd known that it had been a sign. Chekov's ship exploding or something like that. He had to be dead, or else why would he have been gone for so long?]

[mortemscintilla]

[ The hammer-and-tongs sensation in Hei's brain, that had begun on the stoop at the prospect of seeing Korra, is now in a whole other league. He can barely breathe. It takes a few moments to recognize that this is because of the white-hot spark of grief crashing inside him, a physical force that makes him tremble to do something -- lash out, break whatever is in reach, wrench his own hair and snarl curses. ]

[ And at the same time it is so amazing to be gathering Korra in. Inhaling the scent of her. Soaking in that magical warmth of her skin. He squeezes her tightly, nose buried in her hair. Hot and solid in his arms, the soft curves and the hard prod of bones like a knife to the ribs. He can still scarcely believe it. His face burns; there is an aching bolus in his throat. ]

[ She says, How? but he doesn't let her go. Doesn't want to endure that helpless querying expression that he knows will haunt his conscience. ]

[ But sanity, control, slips in around the fierce emotion, waterlike, seeping through the cracks. After a wordless, drawn out beat of time, he draws back. Sags a little -- not exhausted so much as hangdog. His eyes, broken of their sharp focus, drift aside. ]

When I boarded the ship... I couldn't get back. Something went wrong.

[ I'm sorry. He has no idea how to say that. Three fucking years. How do you apologize that away? ]

[anatural]

I saw. There was a meteor shower... like something had exploded.

[She remembers the nightmares she used to have as her mind conjured up the most gruesome, terrible ways that Hei might have died. She can feel her body start to tremble. She steps back and tries to remember where a seat is.]

I thought you were dead...

[mortemscintilla]

[ She steps back, and immediately Hei feels bereft, unsteady on his pins. Her words make his breath catch for a moment, as if snagged on an unseen nail, on regret that has sharpened up unexpectedly. ]

[ He is aware how time can fork, run at different speeds in different dimensions. But he doesn't think he can grasp, emotionally, how much time he's lost to that space warp. He knows the number of years, he sees the changes in this world -- those in Korra. She's held on to that sweet bodily wildness he'd surrendered to, but it's wintrier now. Older. His mind can barely grasp the enormity of it. Perhaps it will make him insane if he absorbs it completely. ]

I --

[ He has no idea what to say. What to feel. Three whole years, and they've dribbled away like nothing. She tells him, I thought you were dead. It sounds like a rebuke, but also a plea, and at the same time a dismissal. ]

[ Maybe he shouldn't be here? What if she'd grieved and moved on, put him away in the less-trammeled sections of her memory -- an enemy-turned-ally, for a little while, a lover, a curiosity she'd welcomed despite the ruins and risks, a strange presence who'd left her life as disastrously as he'd invaded it -- as he'd always predicted she would. ]

[ Maybe she's otherwise situated now? Maybe... ]

I ... went across galaxies. Different planets. Across and through, with Chekov. [ He huffs out a laugh, or something bitterly close to it, like he's aware how it sounds. Like that dumb Beatles number. Across the Universe. ] Time isn't absolutely linear. I knew it might be a while before I got back. But...

[ I didn't realize how long. ]

[anatural]

[She stares at him. Her words hadn't been a rebuke, a plea, or a dismissal — they'd been a statement of fact. But that changes as he speaks.]

Did something go wrong, or was this just a crazy road trip? [Because the way he's talking makes it sound like they were gallivanting through space, having a wild time while she's been here grieving. Sorry, babe, didn’t mean to stay out so late. I just lost track of time. The thought of it makes her so angry she could throw up.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ It is plain, from how Hei's expression breaks, the blankness leaking out, that he stunned she'd think that. After he's done everything he's capable of, time and time again, to prove that there's no place he'd rather be, happy or unhappy, than with her. Because he's never had what Korra offers him -- offered him? -- with such easy warmth. Those he's cherished have always been snatched away from him. Hollowed-out by suffering, ravaged by enemies, warped by time into something unrecognizable. She's one of the few who is still here. Still intact. ]

[ (What if he's lost her too?) ]

I planned to visit the Enterprise -- for a few hours. But something malfunctioned on the bridge. They couldn't triangulate this world's location. Not without a signal.

[ He realizes he's getting too technical, using the jargon he's picked up like a second-nature while aboard the ship. A piece of dangerous unclaimed baggage, stuck in transit. Someone Kirk and Spock were always wary of, and whom McCoy suggested on more than one occasion they should drop off to Earth -- their earth, the capital planet of the United Federation -- because it was too much risk to cart him around, observing their inner-workings, wasting time searching for a lost planet they may never relocate again. ]

[ That's too complicated to explain to Korra. He wouldn't even know where to begin. He just wants to reach out, to touch her, as if the warm impress of skin on skin will infuse her with all the words he can't say. Instead his hands curl into loose-jointed fists. ]

[ In a half-whisper: ]

I never wanted to leave you. But I couldn't find my way back. I didn't even know where to look.

[anatural]

[And he'd proved it, he had. Except Korra knows how much Hei loves the stars; stars and science and sandwiches are what he and Chekov shared that she just wasn't a part of. She knows the myths (if not as well as Jinora); she honestly couldn't care less about the science. A small part of her has always been a little envious of that friendship.

Three years ago, that dark thought would never have crossed her mind. Not even two years ago. She knew him then. But a lot can change in three years.

She finds a chair in the kitchen and manages to sit down. Naga curls up behind her and rests her head against her back, as though holding her up.]

How did you get back?

[mortemscintilla]

[ Stars, science, sandwiches... Those are a single facet of Hei's camaraderie with Pavel. He hasn't had male friends who weren't also rivals -- latent threats to keep at an arm's length with predatory warnings and alpha-male posturings. Hunting buddies, sure -- if flies on a carcass are worthy of the term. But what Hei likes about Chekov is almost exactly what he likes about Korra. That youthful candor, that earnest goodwill, that never hardens into cynicism, no matter how many scars they both accrue, inside and out. It makes him marvel at how innocent a life someone has to lead for such a nature to remain credible and intact. It's baffling, but he respects them both for it, in alternating degrees of awe and bitterness. ]

[ Chekov is loyal. Chekov is honest. Chekov is smart. But he's a valued friend, nothing more, his every word and gesture reinforcing his role as a kid-brother in Hei's mental hierarchy. It's Korra who has him by the balls -- this powerful, yet attractively soft girl who has mysteriously bloomed under his touch, pristine even in proximity to his filth, like a lily unfurling out of compost. ]

[ He can't tell her that. Not without sounding like an inept idiot. When she sits down, he stays at a distance. The room seems warmed by her body and scent: so inviting, so fuzzily fragrant. In contrast, he can smell the cold stillness of the outdoors on himself, the fragments of dead black space still clinging like stardust to his skin and hair. ]

[ Quietly, ]

Think of it as ... roaming through solar systems. Almost like riding a train. Except you don't know where your stop is. Or if you'd recognize it if you saw it.

[ But each jump had brought him closer, or so he'd told himself, though the notion of near or far was as empty as the notion of time's passing. He'd kept focused on where it was he needed to go. Hadn't dared think of Korra, seeing her, touching her, except when alone. That was the only way he could carry on without feeling like his memories were leaking into the ether because of their sheer bright intensity. ]

[anatural]

...I thought you were dead. [She doesn't know what else to say. It'd taken years, but she had finally come to terms with his supposed death. She doesn't know how to process his presence. Does she reach & out touch him? Her hand trembles, wanting but afraid to try.

[mortemscintilla]

[ I thought you were dead. ]

[ Again, those words, that could be anything from a confession of mourning to an accusal of intrusion. His bones feel watery; the room tilts as a sense of displacement creeps over him, as if he's outside of himself, looking in. He's often felt that way, in Korra's world. As if he's superimposed on the scene, playing a role but not really feeling it. He'd never been capable of functioning as a man in the world of ordinary men -- job, car, house, wife, 2.5 children. He'd never felt like he'd been absorbed by Korra's intimate circle. He was always apart -- a killer, a curiosity, a volatile element. ]

[ Now that isolation is not even quantifiable. ]

[ He watches Korra's hand tremble. There's a humming tension in the air, scraping at the strings of his nerves. He doesn't let it show -- but he can't bring himself to come closer. Instead he ends up leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest, eyes skimming the periphery in an instinctive sweep for exits and entry points -- but also for lover-spoor. ]

[ Three years. What if she's moved on? Life isn't some fairytale, true love eternal, my heart will go on, blah blah. What if she'd found someone else? Someone better? What if his reappearance is just a nuisance, a reminder of unhappier times? ]

[ Better to have it out, if that's the case. ]

[ He keeps his gaze dipped, fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the counter. ]

Maybe ... I should've sent you word, first. Given you time to get used to the idea. But -- [ A pause, an exhale, as if he's forcing down an ugly clutter of emotion within. ] I needed to know if you were okay.

[anatural]

I'm fine. [She's not fine. Cat is dead; Yin is gone, and the man she's spent three years mourning isn't dead.

A knock on the door, while unexpected, is a welcome distraction from her complete lack of any idea what to do.] Don't — go anywhere. [She hurries to the front door and opens it to find —

Mako.]

Hey. I know you said you didn't need company tonight, but...well, I could. If that's okay?

[mortemscintilla]

[ I'm fine. That's one thing that hasn't changed -- her tendency to force everything down into a secret, tightly-clenched place, where there's the constant danger of it bursting out at the completely wrong time. It's so typical, he thinks, with fresh resentment -- for both of them. Give the Black Reaper and the Avatar a magic hat and watch the feelings disappear, At least an apocalypse-class meltdown -- a fight, a fuck, something -- would have cleared the air. ]

[ Then there's a knock on the door. Hei tenses, watching Korra hurry to answer it as if she can't get away fast enough. As if she's the victim of a surprise birthday party on the wrong day, for the wrong person. ]

[ Then he hears Mako's voice. Great. What are the odds she'd shack up with her ex again? It makes him seethe, but its nothing like the wild electric thrill of anger or jealousy; this is low-level and icy. Permafrosted. Even as he knows it's unfair; it's been three years, time has passed, altered her priorities. Maybe it's even for the best? Nothing Mako's done to Korra amounts more than a papercut compared to Hei's own cruelties. ]

[ But -- christ. He wants to have the bastard's head off. Right here on the stoop, carve his thumping heart out of his chest. Like she's devoured his. ]

[ Aloud, in a tone of flat absence, ]

Suppose it's not okay?

[anatural]

[Hey, she may be Mako's ex, but Mako has never been her ex — as far as her lived experience goes, they've never dated. And she is not at all happy to see him right now.]

I told you I was fine! [She snaps, more harsh than intended or warranted, especially since Mako admits he's asking for himself and not "for her sake". Then Hei just has to draw the young man's attention and turn this into A Situation.]

... Li?!? You're alive?

Evidently.

How? And how long have you been back?

[Korra blocks Mako's path inside.] Look, I know you want to go all Mr. Detective on this, but now isn't the best time. [She needs time to process this revelation herself, without having to deal with everyone else's emotions on top of it. Mako, for all that he's gotten better about mother henning, doesn't seem to have twigged onto this. He looks very much like he's thinking about pushing his way inside and starting the interrogation.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei can feel the hard lines of strain pulling his body taut. Feel the cool fury curdling inward, feeding a bitter metallic taste of adrenaline in his mouth. Forcibly, he draws in his breath and himself, solidifying into the familiar impenetrable calm. Things are crazy and messy and confusing here. But there's no need to aggravate them. He'd made the wrong move, showing up here. But he'd been caught up on a wave of awe and trepidation and wild hope. ]

[ Seeing Mako, with this older Korra, her eyes like two dark bruises, he knows he should've stayed away. Sent word first, so as not to disturb the flow of her life -- the life she'd rebuilt and resumed in his absence. He should've focused on the practicalities. He's dropped off the radar for three years: his network, his safehouses, his identities, they've all grown cold. ]

[ And his teammates ... ]

[ Yin. The name passes through Hei's whole body like a static shock. Is she still at Air Temple Island? Or at the safehouse he'd set up for her downtown? And what about Mao? No way that black cat's body could've lasted this long. Has he found a replacement? Or is he -- ? ]

[ Fuck. He's been disconnected from everything important to him. Now that he's back, he can't process anything beyond What the hell is going on? But he needs to reestablish a measure of control. Flailing his arms and running around in a panic isn't his way. ]

[ In a flat tone that masks an escalating impatience, ]

No, it isn't a good time. [ Wrenching his body into motion, he steps past Mako, his gaze flickering only briefly toward Korra, a dull opacity to his eyes. ] I have things to take care of. I'll be at Air Temple Island tomorrow morning -- if you want to talk.

[ Because staying here, in this house redolent with his lover -- who no longer seems to be his -- is an off-putting prospect. The night is waiting, cool, edgeless, dark, ready to swallow him. It's been his refuge before. It will do the same now. ]

[anatural]

[Korra's heart drops out of her chest. No. She doesn't know how she feels; she's confused and disoriented but if he walks out now, he might never come back. She can't do that again. Pushing Mako aside, she grabs for Hei's arm.]

Don't — [His eyes are so empty. Her throat closes, and she can feel herself shutting down in response.] Where are you going to stay tonight?

[Mako isn't leaving, but at least he has the good sense to stand back and give them some space. Ready, though, to step in with support if needed.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei is aware of Mako's attention. But the young man -- (except he's not young anymore, is he? They're the same age now) -- is easy to ignore. Korra would be easy to ignore too; he'd been ready to walk out of the house like an apparition, to melt into the city and retrace old haunts, old faces, old routes. Republic City has gotten a facelift in his absence, but that doesn't mean everything's changed. A full night's reconnaissance will allow him to get his bearings. Especially when everything else is so disorienting. ]

[ That's the plan. At least until Korra's hand closes on his arm. So he's forced, even through the fabric of his clothes, to feel the heat of her skin, its mute hypnotic thrum. His gaze meets hers -- and for a moment he's unsteady inside, out at sea, his lungs aching and his head swimming. ]

[ For one miserable moment, he wants nothing more than to stay. Here in this airy little house where he'd once known affection and the routines of something like home; in the kitchen where dustmotes would float silently in the morning sun's rays as he'd fix breakfast, Cat dawdling like a creampuff around his ankles, Korra sitting across the table with her ridiculous bed-hair and crumbs in her eyes, absorbed with a monosyllabic grumpiness in her tea, or sprawled the dark futon where he and Korra once fucked so ravenously, and were so confidential and warm together under the electric blanket that generated a lazy coziness in the winter evenings, her soft heap of hair tickling his face, getting into his nose, his pillow, little strands glued like dubious presents to his skin when he'd pad into the bathroom in the mornings. ]

[ But that goddamned trip to the Enterprise, the chance to see the stars, had changed everything, put them both through so many changes that he doesn't know if they'll regain their balance now. ]

[ His expression doesn't soften. But his fingers are gentle as they close on her wrist, plucking her hand off. He squeezes, almost imperceptibly, then lets go. ]

I'll figure something out. [ He always does. ] But it's better if I'm not in the way right now.

[anatural]

[You’re not in the way, she wants to tell him, in a mixture of affection, longing, and anger, because it feels like he's punishing her for being surprised and uncertain. Maybe he's right, though. Maybe they both need space.

Mako certainly seems to think so.]

Uh...call me if you need me. [And then he scoots, though Korra has a sneaking suspicion he'll linger not far away, so he can follow Hei once he leaves. The cop in him.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He doesn't mean to punish her. (If there's anyone who deserves that self-abasement, it's himself.) ]

[ He doesn't bat an eyelid when Mako exits -- although, like Korra, he's sure the other man won't go far. If he tries to tail Hei, though, he'll have his work cut out for him. Hei may not be a Contractor anymore. But he will always be a consummate chameleon, trained to blend into the crowds, to melt elsewhere in an eyeblink. He may not know the layout of Republic City as well as before -- but he is accustomed to flowing with the current, to remaining in a state of constant hyperawareness until what is strange and uncertain ceases to be so. ]

[ Too bad he can't maintain that operational mindset with Korra. ]

[ Left alone with her, Hei's focus lingers on the bright blue hook of her gaze. She still has, he thinks, that pretty charm when she chooses to turn it on: the liquid eyes, the querulous mouth, that softly-radiating glow of vulnerability, that makes him want to gather her in. ]

[ He doesn't. She is some lucky bastard's girl, that is for sure. But not his. ]

[ Quietly, ]

It's good to see you.

[ That, at least, is true. He regards her for a long moment, his face detached as if he's received a briefing on a mission, not a twitch or a shift to indicate his thoughts. But there's something almost rueful in the way he nods, then turns on his heel, exiting the inviting glow of the Beach House. ]

[anatural]

[A part of her really, seriously hates him when he walks away. Fucking selfish bastard. Leaving, no way for her to get in touch with him again until morning if she changes her mind, though of course he knows exactly where she is if he changes his. Stupid, selfish, no-good jerk. Korra closes the front door behind her and sinks to the floor, sobbing harder than she did that first night she spent alone in what had been Their Home.

She should be happy. So why does she feel three years of grief crushing her until she can't breathe?

Naga nuzzles her comfortingly, until Korra feels strong enough to pull herself to her feet and stumble into the shower, where she can hide her tears in the water. She doesn't bother getting dressed afterward, just collapses onto their futon which, somehow, still seems to smell like him. Where he could be right now if he hadn't decided to walk out that fucking door. Where he could have been for the past three years.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He spends the rest of the night not-thinking of Korra -- to do so would entail a certain degree of self-indulgence, and that's not Hei. There's enough to do as it is. He focuses on combing through the city, altered on the surface but not irredeemably changed. Things, he learns, have moved around. Some hotspots for gathering intel -- taverns, restaurants, shops -- have shut down. Other establishments, once respectable, have dissolved into nests for lowlifes. His first safehouse has been broken into, years' worth of dirt and leaves accumulating inside. All the equipment's been looted; beercans and bottles are scattered everywhere, along with wrappers and used condoms and wrinkled skin-mags. A hobo's paradise. ]

[ The second safehouse is no better. Grown over with weeds and vines, almost past recognition. The remains of the cottage peer bleakly over the overspilling hedgerow, and he peers bleakly back. Time, it seems, has given them both a kicking. But the locks are secure, the doors and windows intact. When he forces his way in, the air reeks of rot and mildew. But his weapons and supplies are where he'd stashed them. Along with something he hadn't. ]

[ A coded message in a sealed bottle. It would read as gibberish to anyone in this world. But Hei discerns it in a moment. It's a contact number. From Mao, or Yin, or both? He isn't sure. Following it through doesn't reveal much. Just an office on the fifth floor of a commercial building; the name plate hanging from the red door says it's a branch of Future Industries. When he breaks in, the place is a wasteland of swathed furniture and sedimentary dust. Unoccupied for ages, by the looks of it. ]

[ Yin. Mao. ]

[ Where are they? ]

[ Slumped on a park bench outside, Hei's guts feel like stone. It's as if the cast-iron seat of the bench is the only thing stopping his body from emptying its heavy innards onto the ground beneath. Everything is so strange. Nothing of his is where it should be, and what's still here is no longer his. ]

[ It is the palest tip of morning when he finally goes to Air Temple Island. He's exhausted from the long day, the worse night. It shows on his face, but only at the edges; skin a shade too wan, dark circles extending halfway down his nose, and the general slow-moving stiffness of a zombie. ]

[ No Yin. No goddamn cat. Frayed pieces of a network. And to top it off, Korra -- the girl he's changed himself in such immense and insignificant ways for, but who might no longer be his. ]

[ Leaning by the railing, Hei waits to see if Korra will arrive. He doesn't want to head to the temple, to alert Tenzin and his family. He can't endure their queries and chatter and fuss. Not yet. Instead, eyes sliding half-shut, he listens to the rushing water of the sea, an imperceptible gurgle that knits with the rustle of the nearby whiplike willow branches. ]

[ Everything seems as if it's fallen apart. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't feel out of place, or lost in space -- and that's mysteriously comforting. ]

[anatural]

[If it's any comfort (it's probably not), Korra doesn't get a wink of sleep either. She gives up on trying when she sees the first hint of dawn in the sky. She rolls out of bed, intending to get dressed and make breakfast and then figure out what she's going to do. But after pulling on her clothes, she heads straight out the door.

Hei's alive, and she wants to be with him.

Seeing him standing at the pier is a fresh reminder how terrifying this whole thing is. He holds a large portion of her heart — it went missing the day he "died", and came back when she saw his face. He could rip it away from her at any time, and it would never hurt less. She learned to live with its absence, but she doesn't know if she could stand getting it back, only to lose it again.]

....hi. [The word feels pathetically weak.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ By the time Korra arrives, Hei is almost too hungry to think of anything. Spotting a few vendors coming in by boat, he buys a salty cake stuffed with chopped greens and wrapped in a leaf of wax paper, and a bowl of jook. He's settled by the willow tree, once his favorite spot to meditate when he lived on the island, and to read Jinora's language and history books. His hands are clumsy with cold and hunger; he devours the cake in one bite, then scrapes the porridge bowl empty, his stomach giving pangs that are fed by stress and sleeplessness, but his instincts saying to keep eating, keep drinking. The thick pale liquid tastes herbal, smoky. When it hits the back of his throat it nearly makes his eyes water. ]

[ Blinking, he glances up, just in time to spot Korra. Her Hi has such a soft, wavering note. Yet hearing it, seeing her face, his head clears in a way that has nothing to do with the meal, the pain and anxiety and tension moving far off and then shutting down into a little dot that soon vanishes. ]

Hey.

[ It's Contractor-calm. But it's not devoid of emotion; his gaze is a soft, wistful lingering across her face and body. Months since he's seen her -- at least for him -- but she's always been a warm amorphous blur at the edges of his consciousness, a brilliant splotch of color when the monotonous grayness of the Enterprise leaked into his dreams. ]

[ But here, now, in the flesh, she looks more beautiful than he's ever seen her -- even with the mussed hair and the tired smudges under her eyes. It has nothing to do with the fact that all he'd seen otherwise were the women aboard the Enterprise, all of them efficient and sleek yet somehow entirely unerotic and unmystical, more like glossy parts of an expensive machine. Hers is a raw beauty, and any changes he can spot are minor: the features harder edged like a diamond, her hair still short and boyish, but everything imbued with the same sweet lustre. ]

[ Dipping his gaze, not shy so much as reticent, he gestures for her to sit. Next to him, if she wants. ]