who’s idea was this anyway

[anatural]

WHO: Korra & Hei
WHAT: Hei promised to be home to set up the baby’s nursery. He lied.

[Korra is going to punch Hei in the face next time she sees him. Hard. This nursery thing was his idea to begin with. Korra had been planning to keep the cradle in their bedroom, but Hei refused. He insisted that the baby have a small room all its own. He promised he would be home to help set up the cradle and shelves for the toys her friends (mostly Bolin) were already overwhelming them with.

So of course he's not here. Korra waited all afternoon, wait through dinner, and now that the sun is setting, she is done waiting. She'll assemble that stupid crib herself, and then she'll beat him to death with it.]

Comments

[mortemscintilla]

[ In an ideal world, gender does have nothing to do with it. Certainly, Hei has been forged of the kind of unyielding bedrock that doesn't soften for men or women, doesn't differentiate between the two in the battlefield. A threat is a threat, whether it's hidden behind hard-packed muscle and kicking off toxic levels of testosterone, or disguised beneath the allure of soft curves and a coy flutter of eyelashes. Contractors are equal-opportunity killers. ]

[ But it's equally true that everyone's perception of you is colored by your gender. There's no escaping it. Or escaping the man-shaped and woman-shaped traps it confines you within. The world is a labyrinth: to navigate through it, every boy and girl must overcome their own unique hurdles. Cross the minefields of stereotypes, some trivial, others devastating. He'll be the first to admit boys have it easier. The labyrinth is made for men. It's dog-eat-dog, but that's why you have to eat your opponents before they eat you. Small wonder Hei was called a monster behind his back: he'd learnt early that the only way to devour what's bigger than you is to dislocate your jaw. ]

[ If it's a boy-child, then Hei expects the kid to be a fighter. ]

[ If it's a girl ... ]

If the boy's a scrapper, he'll survive. One way or another. This world sees to that. [ Carefully, he flips the prawns on the griddle. They're fluffy and crisped at the very edges, with toasty dark patches. Almost done. ]

[ Quieter, ]

Girls don't have it as easy. From the cradle, they're judged for their lack. To win, they've got to be a hundred times better. Stronger. Quicker on the draw. [ He glances up at Korra, whose stubborn little face reflects a shift from simple annoyance to a more complex kind of anger, a deeper level of outrage. Something in his gaze softens, not combative but confiding. ] Lots of girls are already strong, though. Women, in general, are a lot stronger than people give them credit for.

[ Fiercer. More powerful, the burn of their ruthlessness fed by the complex mechanics of their vulnerabilities. He's seen it in Pai, in Amber, in Yin, in Carmine, in Misaki, in Mai. Back in the City, with Hatter and Carla, their strengths a double-edged sword. Most of all, he's seen it in Korra, Even at her most yielding, most helpless, curled judderingly-tight around him in bed, the tremors of her release still rippling through her in little ebbs and crests, he knows the sun-core of strength that burns inside. Has seen the inner fortitude and self-sacrificing courage that drives her. Avatar, warrior, hero are inadequate words to describe her. ]

[ She's so much more than that. Any daughter of hers will be the same. ]

[anatural]

[It's a nice speech. Korra wants to roll her eyes at it.]

How did we get on this topic from "What would you want to name a boy?"

[Grumping, she slides out of her seat and snags one of the mostly-cooked prawns in an act of petty rebellion.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ It's called smokescreen. Not that it's working. How can it, when he lives with a grumpy little Avatar who moves through every subject with such petulant authority, kicking over stones as if by accident to reveal all the squirmy truths hiding underneath? Worms, Roxanne. Worms. ]

[ Lightly, he bats off her hand when she reaches for the sizzling prawns. ]

Let them cook.

[ And they call him a glutton. Speaking of gluttony: the sauce is done. Hei lifts the pot lid, the heavy buttery smell enveloping the air. Pours it into a small ceramic bowl, and gathers a verdant sprig of chives from the fridge. He sprinkles them, finely chopped, across the soupy amber surface, diffusing the saltiness of the butter with a cool mint aftertaste. It is only once he's set the whole dish before Korra, plump pink-white prawns arranged in a bowl, still steaming faintly, does he speak. ]

Look. We'll use Mai if it's a girl. Tulaq [ A phonetic hat-tip to Tonraq, but also an adroit employment of words, as Tulaq means warrior, but is also a tribute to the God of the Stars, ] if it's a boy.

[ Both short and sweet. Also easy to yell in one breath. See? He's planning ahead. ]

[anatural]

[She's not being a glutton! She's just a little peckish. She's eating for two, you know. You're a jerk for making her wait. She pouts, but she doesn't make another move for them. She can hang on a little longer.

And at least he's taking the conversation a little more seriously. Those are names she can work with.

She blows on the food to cool it a little before taking a bite.]

I like it. Both of them.

[mortemscintilla]

Good.

[ He jerks his gaze away, an edgy movement that tears across the veil of repose. He can tell Korra is heartened by his enthusiasm -- or least the lukewarm iota of it. He wonders how she'd react if she knew he can enter into these conversations just as if they mean anything to him -- more easily, maybe, because they don't. It is true he is gripped by a paranoid dread at the idea of the baby. But it is like preparing for an enormous chore. He feels disturbingly little of anything else, aside from stress at his inability to manifest the correct fatherly excitement. ]

[ He hopes Korra doesn't find out. He's going through the motions of happiness with her, buoyed by her incredible confidence and cheer, a parasite clinging to a sleek, beautiful animal. There's a wistful pride in watching her, sure: knowing she'll be the sweetest mother in Republic City. But he's afraid he won't be able to go on hiding his detachment, the way he's been hiding it all along, once the baby is here. ]

[ He hopes the floating numbness doesn't last. How terrible, for a baby to feel nothing emanating from the father, but a sense of cool obligation. ]

[ He tries not to think about it. Goes to the fridge, stares as if dissatisfied into its interior, then pulls out a jug of mango shake and pours a glass. His mood doesn't last, and he butts up against Korra next to the counter, quiet and affectionate in a bodily way. Reminding himself he can feel something -- because everytime he thinks about losing her, it tears away at his heart, small piece by piece. ]

[ Quietly, ]

You're being careful, right? No undercooked meat. No heavy lifting. [ He means using a whole washing machine as a dumbbell, not hefting around a bunch of Air Babies ]

[anatural]

[Korra is, while not entirely blind to Hei's antipathy, more optimistic about it than she should be. She remembers her first pregnancy and how, even if he wouldn't admit it, how drawn in he was by the baby, the possibilities that it let him imagine. While that ended badly, she doesn't want to think that it completely destroyed his ability to hope.

He comes up beside her and she leans against him as she eats. The combination of the food and his warmth restores much of her good humor. She takes his fussing with much more grace than she would have ten minutes ago.]

Yes. I'm taking care of myself. [She's not as young and reckless as she was last time. She's not in danger like she was last time. And this time, the baby is a choice, not an obligation. She's not going to take risks with it.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ It hasn't destroyed his capacity for hope. But it has left him with the same fast-twitch recoil someone develops when shielding a seeping wound. He is afraid, quite simply. Afraid the pregnancy will end as disastrously as the first one. Afraid the baby will upend the precarious scales of equilibrium he's achieved with Korra -- a sort of uneasy truce, a teetering contentment. A few connections, wired to his brain, spark off a suggestion: Maybe he's emotionally flatlined as a defense mechanism? He's wary of the pregnancy disgorging unhappiness and trauma instead of joy -- so he's shut himself off completely. Maybe that's why he's taking everything day by day, hour by hour, because the future is so imponderable, the changes it bodes so immense. ]

[ He doesn't know. He tries to focus on nothing but Korra, the shadowy waves of hair at once sleek and wild around her head, her gaze the dreamy blue of a frosted skylight at dawn. Against his will, the interior of his own eyes takes on a softer glow. ]

[ Reaching out, he plucks a rosy quid of prawn from her plate. Pops it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, before he murmurs, both offhand and tentative, ]

Have you considered a nanny? Once the baby's here, there'll be so much work. And we're both pretty busy anyway.

[anatural]

[Someday, maybe, he'll learn that they're not as precarious as he thinks. There is no uneasy truce; they are not at war. They go through patches of hard times, don't always get along, but she always loves him. After almost ten years, that's not going to change any time soon.

Have you considered a nanny? She stares at him, not shocked or appalled — just confused. It takes her a moment to remember what a nanny is.]

No?

[The idea that she could use a nanny never even occurred to her.... She's never known anyone who had one. In the Southern Water Tribe, nannies aren't necessary — children are raised by the community as much as by their parents. Pema never used one, but she has the support of the entire Air Temple Island community.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ She loves him. Yet Hei always expects there to be a But. Each time she says I love you, he waits for that unsaid word, the qualifier. There is always one; he's been raised on this home truth, seen it in the faces of his parents when they'd let those strangers take away Xing. Seen it in the strained lines of resignation across Tahara's face, as he'd tried to stick a knife into Mai's back, while brokenly professing he'd always love her. Hei's always believed love is the cruelest false advertisement in life. ]

[ (Not that it's stopped him from falling in love. Pai always said he was none-too-bright.) ]

[ Korra's look is so flummoxed. Moxful of flumminess. He blows a gently exasperated sigh from his lips. Of course she wouldn't consider a nanny. She's from a tribe that practices communal child-rearing. When she'd left the South Pole, it was only to reside in a simulacrum of that system, at Air Temple Island. She doesn't realize that baby in a two-person household is different. She's been looking forward to the day-to-day minutiae of childcare, as evidenced by her cheerful prattling and plans. But at the same time she's not really contemplating the second-to-second endless aspect of it. ]

[ Reaching out, he covers her free hand with his, thumb skimming the knuckles. ]

You should. Being a mother is a full-time job. But so is being the Avatar. Juggle both, and you'll burn out fast.

[ He doesn't mention how much he will or will not be contributing to the childcare. But then, he comes from a world where the most any dads still do with the baby is dandle it on their knee for five minutes, maybe change one or two dirty diapers when the mother is preoccupied, or drop it off to school in the mornings. Everything else is still considered 'women's work.' ]

[anatural]

[She's trying to figure out how it even works. Asami and Bolin are jockeying for babysitting rights, on top of Pema's insistence that the baby be a regular fixture on Air Temple Island... There are no shortage of people who want to help take care of this baby. Even Mako has volunteered to help, with his typical awkward shyness at anything that hints at emotion.]

How would we find one?

[mortemscintilla]

[ He knows they have plenty of volunteers for babysitting. It's touching, really -- in a saccharine way. But Asami, Mako and Bolin each have their own lives. Expecting them to drop whatever they're doing at a moment's notice, always at the baby's beck and call, is impossible. Sure, for an evening or two out of the week, they'd be available, obliging. But a few hours of toting a squealing half-pint around aren't the same as constructing your entire schedule around its feeding times, its naps, its baths, its diaper-changes. For such pin-dot care, you need someone who's invested in nothing except the baby's welfare. A stay-at-home parent. Or, if both parents work, then a housekeeper. ]

[ Korra's tone communicates doubt, but her gaze is receptive. Sifting through options, Hei tries to consider candidates who'll fit the criteria. Someone gentle, smart, and trustworthy, who has got what it takes to protect the baby, if necessary. Someone who can cut a swathe through the nasties who will beat a path to their door once they hear the Avatar is a mother. ]

[ I wonder if Pai would be any help? It surfaces with a quiet ache. Every day, provoked by some event or other, he regrets her absence. Even in his own world, after Heaven's Gate vanished, he'd carried the uneasy awareness that a huge, complicated phase of his life was passing by, crowded with significant and deeply emotional experiences, none of which Pai was seeing, none of which she was remotely involved in. It's the same feeling here. ]

[ At length, ]

I'll tell Tenzin to select a few qualified acolytes. We'll interview them. See who clicks with us. Or I'll ask your parents if they know water-benders good with children. A widow. A wet-nurse. Someone they trust.

[anatural]

[The idea of Hei willingly asking her parents for advice makes her snort. He avoids them as much as he can without opening himself to accusations of avoidance. Certainly had not shown any desire for their wisdom or input. And Tenzin... He doesn't even bother hiding that he avoids Tenzin.

A thought occurs to her.]

Would a nanny have to live here? With us?

[She doesn't like that idea at all. She's gotten quite cozy having the house just be the soon-to-be three of them.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Desperate times call for desperate measures. But no, he makes no secret of how uncomfortable he finds Tenzin's blustering company, or the gently-worded interrogations Senna and Tonraq subject him to. His own 'family life' -- such as it was -- in no way resembled the lives of Korra's loved-ones, who are like a soft gloop of glue and colorful bandages and welcoming featherbeds, mending broken hearts and broken bones, mopping up spills of blood, tears and sweat, shoulders ever at-the-ready to lean on -- while Hei is more like a geode trapped under the earth's crust, a hiding place under layers of cooling lava. This doesn't go unnoticed. He knows Korra's friends feel sorry for him and his incurable reserve, and often exchange looks when they don't think he is paying attention. ]

[ Forcibly, he tries to shake it off. Reminds himself that. for better or worse, he's not so alone. Not anymore. He has a baby on the way. He is loved by a wonderful woman who will take him in, even if he's been absent for years. Who will forgive him for him failings even though he can't forgive himself. ]

[ Squeezing her hand, he manages a reassuring sketch of a smile. He hears her worries, and understands them. Privacy, for the two of them, isn't a luxury but a necessity. ]

She could stay at Air Temple Island. Arrive by dawn, when we're leaving for work. Depart by evening, once one of us returns.

[ Basically do what nannies in Tokyo and other big cities do. It's not rocket science. ]

[anatural]

[Hey, it's not the kind of thing that comes completely naturally to someone who hasn't had a typical "job" in years, and whose culture never made a career out of childcare. When he explains it like that, it's so obvious, but it's not something she's ever had to think about before.]

I'm hoping I won't have to leave a lot, though. Things have been pretty quiet for awhile now.

[And they should stay that way, as long as the Equalist situation doesn't get out of hand. She'll have to keep an eye on it, but she has faith. They're all older and wiser than when Amon was in power. Surely they can handle it better this time.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He's determined for the Equalist threat to die a stillborn death. But that doesn't preclude other threats around the corner. With the way Hei has survived, he is always preparing, contingency plans unspooling in his mind and mapped out in practical steps in every sphere of his routine. The constancy of danger and the certainty of how he will deal with it is a familiar, awful superstructure to his life, and at some level he acknowledges that he's preparing at every stage of his existence, whatever lulls of peace he briefly indulges in about as meaningful and relevant as dreams. Only the preparation exists as a home truth -- the preparation, and the purpose it yields. ]

[ At Korra's words, he smiles with a faint affection -- but only because there's something bittersweet about her optimism, her clear-eyed hopefulness. He regards not her face but her hand, curled in his, the knuckles solid under his stroking thumb, the skin like hot calloused velvet. ]

[ Dryly, ]

There's no guarantee they'll stay quiet. A back-up plan is necessary. [ Lifting her palm, he presses a kiss to the center, idle habit meeting sincerity. ] You'll get sloppy as a stay-at-home mom. I don't want that for you. Better to stay in fighting trim.

[anatural]

I'm not about to go lax on my forms. [If there's one thing that makes her happier than anything else, that she finds more fulfilling than anything else, it's bending. She would give up just about everything before she gave up that.

She leans over to kiss his cheek before finishing her meal.]

Could you take a look at the cradle? I don't think I put it together quite right.

[mortemscintilla]

Fine.

[ The way he inflects the word makes it sound like a herculean chore. But he drains his glass of milkshake, before slipping off the stool readily enough. He'd been hoping to shower and then fix himself a proper meal. But that can wait. He owes Korra for his absence, for an entire wasted evening. ]

[ In the nursery, padding over the crinkled newpapers strewn across the floor, he regards the half-constructed cradle. All told, Korra hasn't done a bad job. But the rockers on the underside are rickety, and one of the support strips is crooked. ]

[ Sighing, he sinks to his knees. Patiently reassembling the cradle, he lets the task, the mindful hammering, the careful measuring, flatten out his brain. It's strange: all this effort is for the baby, yet he's not thinking of the baby at all. Hours can pass without a single concrete thought if he's preoccupied: just empty, static wind gusting and swirling through his head, snatches of instructions repeating themselves in an endless loop. The bubbling paranoia -- about Korra, about their future -- that so often manifests itself in other forms, as cold nausea, as nameless dread, is, if not erased, at least temporarily buried under the weight of simple exertion. ]

[ It isn't long before the cradle is finished. Not elaborate, trimmed, with hand-rubbed varnish or intricate carvings -- but styled like a pretty antique, solid enough to bear a squalling brat. My squalling brat, he tries to remind himself. The words mean nothing. ]

[anatural]

[While Hei puts the cradle together properly, Korra cleans up the mess from her own meal. Before she can rejoin him in the nursery, nausea and heartburn hit. She grabs a glass of water and shuffles to their bedroom to lie down and put a compress over her eyes. Crying always gives her a headache.

That first pregnancy was so much easier. Even with the Red Lotus and the stress, it had been easier. She hadn't had any morning (or anytime) sickness. Definitely no heartburn. But most importantly... she'd felt more certain of Hei. Once the baby is real, she reminds herself. Once the baby is here, he'll connect with it. It's barely a bump in her belly right now, so of course it doesn't feel like something he could love yet. But he will.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Every pregnancy is different. That's what Pema had gently reassured them. Some started out smoothly and ended with difficult labors, some were the other way around. That doesn't stop the anxiety, which Hei usually controls well, from bubbling up each time Korra suffers from unfamiliar cramps, or a disturbing lethargy that roots her to the spot. Korra's own worries, whatever they are, are well-buttoned up -- but under those buttons is a button-sized baby, half Contractor, half Avatar. (An Avatractor?) There's something decidedly queasy-making about her carrying something that's alive, as vulnerable as a jelly doughnut inside the softness of her belly -- yet as draining as a parasite. ]

[ Most expectant fathers wouldn't think that way, Hei knows. Most would, most likely, make their partner wear some body armor -- find a spare hubcap, even a nice cast-iron frying pan that she could tie around her waist. ]

[ Except the unborn baby isn't Hei's concern. Just Korra. (Maybe that won't change, even after the baby arrives.) ]

[ Creeping silently into the bedroom, Hei ignores the seasick lurch when he finds Korra curled up on the futon, her hair a dark mudslide across her scrunched-up face. Carefully, he settles at the edge of the futon. Reaches out, so the curve of her hot face is met by the cradle of his cool hand. A pregnancy isn't an illness, he reminds himself. Yet in moments like these, it's difficult not to regard it as one. To resent the baby like a cancer festering inside her, poisoning her blood even as it saps the life out of her. ]

[ Quietly, ]

Maybe the prawns were too heavy.

[ He's been keeping track of which foods trigger her pyrosis, and which don't, so he knows what dishes to avoid making in the future. ]

[anatural]

Mmm. [She grabs his hand and tugs him down to lie next to her. She demands cuddles. Dinner and cradle-fixing aren't penance enough for bailing on her, and certainly not enough to make up for the lack of sex ever since she told him about the pregnancy.

This close, though, she can smell the reek on his clothes, no longer covered up by the delicious smells of food. She coughs and pushes him away.] You stink. Go take a shower.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei can't explain to her, exactly, what the problem is. It's not a physical decline; he's not having trouble getting it up. Nor has the fact of Korra's pregnancy reduced her to a vessel of burgeoning blood-clots, a formless soup of life that he's revolted by. But when he kisses her, it's always fleeting, almost chaste. Right now, sex is at an apoapsis in his life, crowded out by the weight of worries, the deadening pressures of impending parenthood. His entire being is always forking between excitement and dread, between being a pillar of support for Korra but also the unwilling sperm-donor, the silent partner-in-crime. The split makes everything feel surreal and distant from one moment to next. Fills his head with static even as it weighs his bones down with lead. ]

[ He can't say that to Korra. Instead he lets her coax him to sprawl next to her -- only to shove him away because his skin and clothes still carry the miasmic fug from the rally. ]

[ Scowling, Hei hauls himself to his feet. He blames the sprog for making her as unpredictable as a nest of rattlesnakes. She's never kicked him out of bed before for smelling like less than a spring rose. ]

I think I'll take the couch tonight.

[ Stripping his clothes off irritably, striving for that extra, imaginary inch of dignity that this lovesick relationship has deprived him of, he stomps off to shower. Damn hormones. Damn pregnancies. Why couldn't he have hooked up with a menopausal cougar instead of a teenybopper at the useless peak of her fertility? ]

[anatural]

What? [As far as Korra's concerned, he's the unpredictable one. That petulance seems to come from nowhere. He's a very clean person. He doesn't freak out when he's dirty, but he always cleans himself off as soon as he can. There's no reason for him to stomp off top the couch because she told him to do something he would normally be doing.

She's top annoyed to chase after him. If he wants to punish himself by sleeping on the couch, fine. Let him. She huffs irritably and rolls over too her other side.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ It's that stupid baby. The awareness of it keeps prodding at Hei's patience like a sharp stick: makes his anger erupt in unexpected, irregular spikes of heat. In the shower though, surrounded by sluicing water, he dredges up the reluctant recognition of his anger. It's not exactly stress about the baby. It is his own uncertain status in Korra's world. For years he's existed according to fluid codes of obscurity, a pattern he's never diverged from. No real name. No family. No social security. No legal accounts. He's a Contractor -- and they have an aversion to anything official. Any red tape that impedes their exits, any paperwork that leads to their bolt-holes like a breadcrumb trail. ]

[ Except he's going to be a father soon. He'll need a clean identity. Something official. Real, on file, even if it's another alias -- a nobody who is not worth the government's attention. A contingency plan, among the hundreds. If something happens to him and Korra, he knows any baby of theirs will land on its feet. But he wants to place a cushion there. ]

[ Not just a cushion. A nest. Lined in paperwork and fool-proof legalities. ]

[ Toweling himself dry, he slips into a pair of boxers and a T-shirt. Pads into the shadowed aerie of the bedroom, where Korra is still sprawled on the futon, her body an irritable curl. Briefly, he considers sliding in beside her, into the warm declivity of the mattress, apologizing without words but with a kiss to her nape. But he doesn't think he could stand it if she kicked his shin or swatted his hands off in another irrational burst of petulance. ]

[ Instead, he draws the blinds and switches the bright halo of the lamp off. A cool but considerate: Sweet dreams. Vacates to the nursery, to clean up the tools and wooden debris, and then to the livingroom to spend the balance of the evening on the couch, determinedly immersed in one of the dusty Air-Nomad tomes piled on the coffee table. ]