poly_chromatic | 三十七

[She'd just come to get some meatbuns and a special treat for Naga. Food similar to home, but different enough that Korra's pretty sure she'll miss it. She didn't expect to run into Hei on the streets. It's supposed to be a big city.

Not that big, evidently.

But she smiles at him, queasy and nervous and sad and just full of longing. Drowning in longing.]

Hi.

[ He doesn't ask, So you've heard? Of course she's heard. The whole City is practically thrumming with it; bursting with a bright, strained, desperate energy. He thinks of a red net swept over the sea bottom dredging up a chaos of creation: limbs and skulls and fins and fangs and gills caught up in a thrashing teardrop of life. So much life pressed together, skin on skin on skin, trying to tear its way free. ]

[ For a beat, he just looks at her. Something like fear bubbles in him, but he's felt this fear before, and it doesn't matter if it expands and threatens to sink him down. He'll wrench free from it by sunrise -- because he doesn't know how else to live. The way he's careful to keep his gaze steady as he draws closer to her, the way he keeps his hands tucked into his pockets, the way his breathing never gets any faster -- all of it, everything, is deliberately spun so that he feels like there's something there, something tangible that he can control. ]

[ (The illusion is everything, isn't it?) ]

You'll be going home soon.

[ He doesn't say it cheerfully. Doesn't say it bitterly, either. It's matter-of-fact, but there's a questioning note somewhere in there. Right? ]

[Way to dive straight into the heart of the matter. Korra's not sure whether she appreciates it or resents it. She looks away and feeds Naga her treat.]

Yeah. [It's not like they hadn't talked about it before, during the carnival. When leaving had seemed like a choice and not an eviction. She'll go back to her world, and he'll go back to his.

She still can't help asking.] You too?

[ He always goes straight for the jugular. Especially if there's nothing to gain from obliqueness and games. ]

[ She asks You? And part of him wants to collapse into sharp, adrenalized laughter -- I wish I knew -- the only way to dispel this terrible pressure. He doesn't. He wishes, in the sanctity of his own mind, that his choices were black and white instead of churning like muddy water. Choices fueled by love, the kind of self-sacrifice that Hei isn't wholly unfamiliar with, but more than that choices coming from a place of practicality. Instead he is trapped between these wild swings of the pendulum -- Happy vs. Right. It's a familiar limbo. A space he's inhabited before, in Hell's Gate. Amber, with the broken-open grief on her solemn face, saying: You said you'd had enough, didn't you? ]

[ But it was different back then. It was the choice between his dreams, and the massacre of millions. Here, an embarrassment of choices is scattered before him. ]

[ That's what stymies him. He's never had the choice to be happy, before. ]

[ Cutting his gaze away, he scrubs a hand through his hair. Doesn't like the way his heart is thudding unevenly behind his ribs. ] I'm not sure. I should go home. But -- [ But he can't take Yin along and endanger her. Can't leave her alone, either. ]

But what? [Her heart is thudding too, in ways that it really shouldn't be. They haven't talked about staying together. It's never been an idea worth seriously considering. They both have responsibilities, and it's not like they could last -- or that she'd want them to -- she has doubts and fears and uncertainties and Jinora wouldn't approve -- But a part of her really wants... It just wants.]

[ He wishes he could say his thoughts echo hers. That the deep chord vibrating low in his stomach is for the same reason. But it's not. He won't deny he's wondered, from time to time, how they might fare in each others' worlds. It's never a line of thought he's pursued very long -- the life that they lead now is enabled by the relative lack of structure in the society around them, the lack of status that they can directly control. Put them back into either of their native worlds and it'd most likely deteriorate. He isn't so blind as not to understand that. ]

[ (Yet a part of him has wondered if... if...)]

[ Hei's eyes unfocus, so that while his gaze remains on Korra it is clear he is looking at something else entirely. He wants to tell her the truth. I'm scared because I have the security of my teammates resting in my hands. Because I know I'll have to part ways with my sister. But I'm also scared because having to choose between my responsibilities and my wishes ... is how I lost the last woman I cared about. But the words don't come. ]

[ He inhales, taking in the cool night air. But his exhale wavers at the edges. All he can manage is, ]

It'll be weird without you.

[ It's not a love ballad. But it's the best he can manage. ]

[The words wouldn't sting if his gaze wasn't so distant, if he were at least looking at her. Then it'd just be another case of Hei being bad at using his words. But who knows what he's thinking or feeling when his gaze gets all like that.]

Yeah. Weird.

[ He can tell he's disappointed her. Wishes he could wrestle his mouth open and let slip the words I want things to be different that lie heavy as lead on his tongue. He rolls them awkwardly around his mouth, closing his lips and opening them all over again. ]

I just -- [ He starts, but then he frowns. BK201 is not the kind of person who loses direction or courage in his words but it's always, always in the face of trying to navigate Korra that he has to pause. It's confusing and frustrating and aggravating in turns. He exhales slowly, a faint glint of blue behind his dipped lashes. It makes his expression almost flirtatious. But when he looks at her again, a wistful smile plays at his lips. ]

I guess I can't ask you to come with me.

[ In his world, there's no payoff in that kind of honesty. Not when your whole life is a lie. But this isn't an assignment. (Maybe there's even a Please tucked somewhere in his words.) ]

[The question hurts, even as the smile makes her relax.]

You could... but I can't. I have responsibilities at home. [And she promised Jinora. But it's not even the promise to her young sifu that binds Korra most strongly to her world.

She's the Avatar. She's spent over a year and a half being something else, but she can't escape it. She doesn't even want to. Whether she gets her powers back or not, whether the rest of the world still accepts her as the Avatar or not, she needs to be in a place where that word means something. ]

You could come with me. [She can't believe the words just came out of her mouth.] I mean, I know you have responsibilities and I don't want to get in the way of that. But, you know, if you wanted to... the offer's there. I just thought I'd put that out there. So, you know, you know. [She's babbling shit. She looks away and wishes the earth would swallow her whole. The words skirted way too close to an admission of feeling, feelings that he would either mock or that would bring out that inhuman thing inside him. Why did she always have to flirt with disaster?]

[ Hei can't say he's never been cruel to her. Can't say he's never manipulated her, lied to her in some way. That's just how life works, how he works. But that doesn't mean he doesn't feel for her. Her refusal comes as no surprise. Because she is the Avatar. It's not a job-description. Not something she can walk away from. He flashes back to the memory of her, that night he'd attacked Naga. The night when he saw her in a new way, a whole new orientation, like looking into a kaleidoscope and knowing she was the kaleidoscope at the same time. All that energy, enough to blind starlight. He thinks of each time he's seen her absorbed in her katas, her mind and body working together in a way that's part poetry, part brilliant force. She needs to function as the Avatar. Anything else, and she'd gnaw herself alive like a black hole. This is who she is. ]

[ It's different for Hei. He's a killer, but he was never born one. He's good at it, he knows that. Powerful and preternaturally skilled: the whispers and stares are enough to tell him so. But unlike most mercenaries, he isn't powered by fear, hatred, the desire to break living things. He's trained hard and fought daily, but he possesses no true love for the game. It's simply what he's been bred for, in a world where each toxic lungful has sunk deeper into his sinews, but not yet killed him. ]

[ So it makes sense, in some cosmically ironic way, that Korra's the one to surprise him with her words. He can read her expression as clear as day, her moods and her thoughts; he's learned to be affectionate with her, even to accept her gusts of warmth and softness in return. But not such raw wanting. Not this. ]

I'm not -- [ He blinks, at a loss for what sort of verbal gameplan to sketch. He does love her, but not in a way that's easy to talk about or to understand. Love never lies parallel with Together for him. He blinks again, swallows, a hot wire of shock puncturing his lungs and wrapping around his windpipe. ] Wouldn't it be strange for you? You have your friends and family there. You'd be where you belonged. Wouldn't it be better...? [ Something painful fizzes in his chest. He can't believe she'd want him to come with her. It's just nostalgia, if you can summon that for something so awful. ] Don't you think some monsters are better left behind?

[ It's gentle, despite the way the words sit. ]

You're not a monster. [If he's a monster, then she's a victim, and she doesn't want to see herself like that. She doesn't want to be reduced to that.

He's a person. A maddening, terrifying, complicated, sometimes awful, sometimes wonderful person. A person with scars too numerous to count, a person shaped by terrible tragedies, but never anything less than a human being. And she loves him.]

Besides, it's not just -- I'm not asking you to come for me. My world is peaceful. Mostly. [Okay, so there's the whole Water Tribe Civil War and her uncle being evil and trying to bring about 1,000 years of chaos or something that's evidently in her future, but maybe that's actually in the past. It was in Jinora's past, after all. Korra doesn't think too hard about it; that kind of stuff makes her dizzy.] More peaceful than your world, at least. And no weird curses either. You and Xing could make a life there.

[ She says, You're not a monster And it's like finding a brief handhold. Something in him buoys up on a swell of bright, aching hope -- even as the rest of him stays mired down in a wash self-doubt, bligy and ichor-black. In his mind, he hears Amber's voice dopplering: Don't reduce yourself to one thing. You have a choice now. For so long, back home, he'd asked himself whether he had a choice, and always answered no. But maybe the real question was: Why he never had a choice. Why he always found himself in a position where he had no alternative but killing. ]

[ Part of it was circumstantial. But the other part was no less than a self-fulfilling prophecy. If your hands are bloody, Maxley used to say, it's impossible to get them clean. So he hadn't dared to try. Had made a feeble resistance, before succumbing to the Reaper. It was easy, because he was use to it. Even wanted it, because that side of him was a ruthless survivalist. It kept him alive. ]

[ But he's made at least one right choice, in determining that he has to stay with his team. In resolving not to fight that monstrous aspect of his nature alone. And maybe he's making another right now, in going with Korra? ]

[ If you go home, alone, you'll survive. Whether you want to or not. The truth is indisputable. But it takes guts to step away from the trap of the world that shaped you. He's good at killing, fine. But it doesn't have to dictate the course of his life forever. He doesn't have to let it. ]

[ He can't explain that to Korra. Instead, slowly, he reaches for her hand. Loosely curls their fingers together, ignoring the seasick lurch in his chest. ]

Xing won't be coming. [ That's something they've already agreed on. Not because he doesn't want her there, but because he can't stand to see her so aimless and isolated. So anchorless. He wants her to be happy. With or without him. To live, not coast as she's been doing here. But all he says to Korra is, ]

I'll come. If you'll have me.

[ It comes out in a whisper. Like maybe Hei's afraid that she might say no, snatch whatever psychic dregs he's bled for her and run. ]

[She's surprised to hear Xing won’t be coming. As co-dependent as the siblings are, she never would have imagined them separating. But it doesn't surprise her nearly as much as him whispering I’ll come. She'd been bracing herself for the reverse when he'd taken her hand, some kind of attempt to let her down gently. She stares at him for a moment, surprised, uncomprehending. Her heart forgetting to beat.

I’ll come.

She throws herself into his arms and buries her head against his chest.]

I'm the one who invited you, idiot. [Of course I will.]

[ He couldn't imagine himself and Pai separating either. She's the one person whose company he's always preferred to his own, and to finally find her again ... They've practically lived in each other's pockets here. But the way they've survived, after Heaven's War -- you learn to be alchemized by heartbreak and loss. Maybe Hei might have given it a moment's pause if Pai wan't going through it too. But these things, these bonds, they come in pairs, and if Pai goes through it, if she's okay with splitting up -- so is he. (Not that he imagines the ache will ever fade. They're too tightly, messily entwined for that. There will be blood, there will be scars, there will be irreparably empty spaces, because they love one another. You can glimpse the twisted configurations and acknowledge yes, it is the sharpest edge of love. A brutally, excruciatingly pure manifestation but unmistakably so. Love is a sickness.) ]

[ And Korra... ]

[ He cares about her. That's not the question. The question is whether that love is the same love that she feels. Whether it'll ever be the same. Can it be something nourishing instead of twisted, warm instead of remote? (Can it ever be enough?) It isn't a question he can ask her. She crashes into him, all radiant warmth and juddering pulse, and in all honesty he needs a moment to. To think. To just -- breathe. Because this is Korra, and it occurs to him that he's free to reach for her, to pull her close, face buried in her hair, to take deep breaths of her, feel the hot steady tremble of life thrumming in her body. It is astonishing. Overwhelming. He reels helplessly at the knowledge that he might have the opportunity to be familiar with this. ]

[ It's difficult, it always has been. The idea that he might get something he wants. He's tense as if expecting a bogeyman to be looming over his shoulder. Except nothing happens. No lightning bolt. No falling church organ. No mauling beast. ]

[ Hei squeezes her tighter, feeling his heartbeat jolting through them both. Says, after a beat, ]

I can't promise I'll be any different there from how I am here. [ Not romantic, but pragmatically sincere. ] But I promise I'll have your back.

Edited 2014-02-28 05:16 (UTC)

I wouldn't believe you if you did. [Not bitter or acerbic, just matter of fact. People don't change that quickly or that easily. And while it's not like there aren't plenty of things she wishes were different about him, she wouldn't want him to change that easily. (He's unpredictable enough as it is.)

It hurts a little to pull away, even if it's only to give her enough space to kiss him.]

And I'll have your back too. [The promise is murmured against his lips, her arms wrapped tight around his neck.]

[ Hei's absolutely still when she kisses him. His eyes are closed and he simply -- breathes, his palms lifting to cradle the sides of her face, warm and rough. It feels electrically like the eye of a storm, like something's going to happen that they can't take back. It feels like the moment before you fall, but that's nothing to fear, because Hei is addicted to the rush of the freefall. She says And I'll have your back too, and his heart gallops, throat clogging. It's something almost like terror. She's taking such a risk, allowing him back to her homeworld, with his bloodstained fingerprints and the poisonous spume he always leaves in his wake. But it's a risk for him too. Trusting anyone, especially when that word is synonymous with Death and Weakness. Especially when he can barely trust his own motivations around her. The art of control and calculation abandons him. What's left behind is a shockingly raw emotion that stings the rims of his eyes. ]

[ He blows out a long breath. Then another. Feels like he's going to jump out of his skin and tells himself to Calm. The Fuck. Down. But his thoughts are one crazy jumble. ]

[ Yes, yes, yes. Eyes squeezed shut, he hides his daft grin of exultation inside the dark fur of Korra's hair. Mine, mine, mine. ]

[Things are never completely simple, of course. There are logistical issues that need to be resolved -- when will they go through the door? What stuff are they bringing? Will he help them corral the animals? Will he stay at Air Temple Island? How is she going to tell Jinora? But she's not thinking about that now, not when she can just hold him and savor this moment.

She doesn't know how long they stay like that before she finally pulls back.]

So where is Xing going to go?

[ Hei's not a man of wild impulse. For Pai, he's made gambits with the Syndicate where ruthless calculation was the line and bits of his soul were the bait. For his team, he's willing to endure as much. It's not a matter of self-sacrifice; that's not his scene. But he has to make the best with the choices he's been given. ]

[ He'll never tell Korra that -- despite his bright-burning affection for her -- his decision is a matter of logistics. That saying I'll come boils down as much to choosing a place the team will fit into, as much as a place with familiar faces. Love doesn't always equate rationality, but it shouldn't negate it either. Not when he has two other peoples' safety to consider. Even so, part of him is happy. Staggeringly, wickedly, dizzyingly happy, the way a drunk gets when the earth is tilting under his feet. A happiness without solid foundation -- without Pai, he'll always feel as if the under-structure of his life has corroded -- but still real and true, at least in this moment. ]

[ Korra asks him about Pai, and his reply is delayed, if only a little. But then he lets his forehead rest against hers. ]

Somewhere she can be herself.

[ The way Korra would be, in her own world -- sparks snapping off her feet as she does what she was born for. Living and dying in a blaze. His tone is dry, but underneath that, maybe he's a little scared, too. Except fear is nothing. You overrule it. You move on. You learn. ]

[She can hear the fear -- or maybe she just guesses at it, because the idea of him being perfectly okay with his sister going somewhere else without him to be crazy overprotective.]

You'll never see each other again.

I know.

[ There's a brief twitch at the corner of his mouth, despite his hollowed out expression, because ... If you can't smile on nights like this, then what's the point? He thinks of Pai, and the sensation blossoms sweetly, not for the first time -- I'm glad I got to see her. Not forever, not a happy ending but that doesn't matter, because Hei doesn't have a monopoly on her save for the history and childhood he shares with her. He's just glad she was here during his stay, just like he's glad Yin is, that Korra is beside him, just like he's glad he can look back on his time here and realize he's gone some way to clutching whatever choice he has in his own life, like beads slipping off a string. ]

[ When he speaks, there's no sadness in his voice. Just determination. ]

We've split up once before, too.

[ At Hell's Gate. He thinks of her glowing, fine-boned face, the breathtaking dark of her eyes. I'll be near. She didn't need to say anything else, because it was so imperfectly, unpoetically but wonderfully true. ]

[She remembers. He'd never given her the details, but she remembers when he told her about losing someone important to him.]

I won't get in the way of your last few days.

[ Hei gathers her in closer, his hands sliding up, resting looped around the warm column of her neck, one palm threading into her hair. When he kisses her, it's short and sweet, tongue flicking at her lower lip as if tasting the remnants of the words. There's so much she still doesn't know about him. So much he knows it would be entirely unfair -- unwise -- to unload on her. ]

[ She doesn't realize that Hei has never operated on fond reminiscences or last days. All the cities he's slipped into and left behind, a mad blur of dark roads and bright lights, like smears on a canvas. (And once upon a time, every city was like this one, and he, Amber, Carmine and Pai were the ignition-sparks. Razing enemies, fueling explosions, splashing blood -- a real life Olympian battle full of chimeras and hydras where it wasn't about justice, it wasn't about freedom, it was about winning.) ]

[ Edging back, he lets his lips brush against her nose. His skin feels like it's buzzing. ]

No need. Last days aren't my thing.

[She just gives him a completely disbelieving look. She has never met two people more ridiculously co-dependent in her life. How can he not want to spend every possible minute with her before they part forever?]

[ Hei's expression stays mild in the face of her disbelief. He can't explain to her, the benefit, the curse, of a lifetime of combat, is that it teaches patience and resignation both. Teaches the reality of infinite separations -- and infinite suffering. Right now, he is focused on where it is he needs to go. Not so much on Pai -- she is too hard to stay fixed on, too large, too bright, too important, like staring into a star -- but on the other things that he has to strive towards without intolerable pain as he negotiates his way. ]

[ (Later, quietly, privately, he'll allow himself to crumble. But right now, all he thinks about at the mention of Pai is the sprinkling of irreclaimable but ever-present atoms inside him.)]

[ Gently, ]

It's like ripping off a band-aid.

[ Shocking, abrupt, agonizing, over. That's the only way Hei can handle separations of such magnitude. ]

[She's been in the City long enough that that expression isn't even weird to her. She shakes her head a little, still baffled by it, but she's not going to push. His life, his sister, his goodbyes.

So many goodbyes. The thought suddenly makes her a little sick. Chekov, and Penny, and Yin ~~so she thinks~~, and others too that she can't think of at the moment. She's never had to say goodbyes like this. Never had separations that were so final.

Maybe there's something to be said for that whole no goodbye thing. She's kind of wishing she could just bury her head in the sand and let it be done with.]

[ Hei watches the dismay shutter across her face. Pauses, then loosens his grip. He can't tell her she's lucky, in her own way. Because she'll have closure, the finality, of a farewell. What's gone will stay gone. What's said will be said. It's not the case for him, who's always lived in between. For him there's always been that gut-wrench of abrupt disconnect, the impact a palpable astonishment. All the people he's lost, but never had a chance to say goodbye to; whom he's been forced to consign to less-trammeled sections of memory, while the silent guilt crushes your heart and psyche into shapes unrecognizable. ]

[ He doesn't want Korra to go through that. He draws back, one hand curled around the dip of her elbow. ]

A short goodbye's better than none.

I know. [The response is more reflexive than truthful; the kind you give when someone tells you something you're not ready to hear yet. She shakes her head to dispel the other gathering thoughts she doesn't want to deal with while Hei (or anyone else) is around.]

Are you on your way -- [She can't exactly call it "home" now, can she?] back to the Beach House?

[ Hei shakes his head. Lets Korra go completely, then curls his fingers into his palm. Slips them into his pocket, before wordlessly -- unwisely -- looking straight into the blinding force of her big-eyed, guileless expression. ]

There's something I need to take care of. [ Safehouses to empty. Weapons to parse through. Dangerous equipment to trash so it doesn't fall into amateur hands. There's a beat, in which he lets the plans riffle through his mind. Korra's words vibrate through him at a secondary frequency. He's struck, dimly, by the way she phrases the place as The Beach House instead of Home -- something Hei's done throughout the time he stayed there. ]

[ He hesitates, then asks, ]

Do you need my help with something?

[ It sounds awkward, almost stilted. But for all intents and purposes, she's his girl now, isn't she? Like being part of Amber's wolfpack in Heaven's War; his responsibility was to help all those fierce, sharp-eyed girls, and vice versa. Strange, how this doesn't feel any different. ]

[She shakes her head.]

No, I think I've got things mostly under control. For now. I just wanted to know. [He's pulled away, but she leans up to kiss him anyway.] I'll see you when you get back.

[ He blinks, then leans into the kiss -- breathless, quick, too easy, and part of him is still distracted by thoughts of Pai-Yin-Mao-Home-Not-Home-Vanish-Escape, startled by the kiss when it finishes, so he doesn't quite get to respond. But to say Do that again would be pointless. He gives himself a moment with his eyes closed, feeling cold air on his lips where Korra has moved away. Then he straightens, leveling his gaze at her. There is no point in lingering. They're going to see each other in a few hours to finalize the last imperative details, anyway. ]

[ So he simply says, ] All right, [ And lets her go. ]

三十七

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