Baatar's footsteps dragged. The conviction of a free man he sorely lacked, yet for the first time in three years, he roamed alone and unguarded.

At first his family tagged along everything he did. Suyin had him learn about running Zaofu. She said he'd make an excellent matriarch one day. Baatar supposed this was an oversight by her, seeing how he would have to be elected.

His father acted like it was old times. Together they had started designing a device that would turn bread into toast. It was a downgrade from building a weapon of mass destruction, but Baatar reasoned that this new device was of equal importance. It would be hard to control such a weapon without a healthy breakfast, after all.

Huan asked him about his opinion of his newest creations. He told him they were indescribable, because Huan wasn't one to have his works wrapped in frivolous adjectives. Wing and Wei's friendly punches were lighter than usual. Opal took the time to visit home from all her air nomad life. She gave him a hug and promised things would get better. He liked that, but knew it wasn't true. He didn't want the present. He wanted what he had.

How could anything ever be the same? He wasn't the same man who willingly entered cell walls all those years ago. He was a broken. Even the inventor couldn't identify the missing parts. He was heavy with chains and guilt. His family could never forgive him. He could never forgive himself.

He had been so focused on coming out of his father's shadow, his newly created one grew malignant. It had taken over everything he'd cared about. It wasn't about cutting away a simple benign tumour, that he could be redeemed with an apology. It was cutting out all his regrets, everything he'd done, all he'd hurt.

He knew it was impossible. It was in his brain.

"Honey."

His mother approached him. She'd always tread lightly around him. Not to remind him of pains or instigate new wounds.

He straightened up. "Yes mother?"

His mother put a hand on his shoulder. "I know it's only been a few months since you got out, but your father and I… we're all worried. You seem so distant, and we want to know if there's anything that we can do to help. Anything you wish to talk about…" She pulled in of an embrace.

He stood, quietly savouring the affection. "I want to see Kuvira."

She looked at him, a worried crease in her brow. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"It has been three years. I'm sure."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No." There was an air of finality in his voice.

She was the tumour. It was the last piece. Cutting her out would save him. He was just worried about the cost.

"I'll be outside. In case you need help. She's not dangerous… but… just in case," Suyin stated. She detested this plan, it was clear to him.

He stepped onto the wooden platform. Her cage was remarkably similar to the one they'd trapped his family in.

She was hunched over, eyes fixated at the wood. She looked remarkably proper, hair in a long braid down her back, though the grey of prison clothes did not suit her.

When she looked up, he felt his stomach clench at her shock.

"…Baatar?"

The dark circles and new creases took him aback. All in all, her shell was strikingly similar. A wistful curl formed at those lips. "I didn't expect you would come visit me."

His heart pounded wildly. He wanted to run away, never look back at the women who taken his heart, then took his life.

"Neither did I," he found himself saying.

"I'm sure Suyin was pleased." She didn't smile, fidgeting her hands together. A nervous habit? He didn't recall…

He caught a glimpse. "Is that..!"

Kuvira froze. "It's platinum. I can't bend it," she responded evasively. She knew he would know that. After all, he did give the ring to her. Years of fury, pain, and longing bubbled within him. Was that all their relationship was to her? A useless fragment of metal?!

"Why did you shoot?!" he yelled, holding back bitter tears.

She was cornered, but somehow never looked afraid. "I couldn't lose that surrender Baatar."

He gritted his teeth. "You could have surrendered and none of this would have happened! We could've been happy!"

She was silent. Blood rushed to his head and the tears burned against his skin. "Didn't you love me?" He couldn't look at her without being sick.

"I did! I can't defend my actions Baatar. I know what I did wasn't right!" She rarely showed emotion, but now her pain was now clear. "All I wish is that I could've realized that sooner so we could be together." Her voice died suddenly. "I'm sorry."

Baatar hadn't planned for this. Her dehumanization had gotten him through all these years. But now she was here, just as broken. She didn't have anyone to blame. She didn't have a family reaching out. She was completely alone.

"I would've died for you."

It slipped out. He'd forgotten the accusations.

"I know." The hurt was unmistakeable.

I still would. An anguished hush fell between them. He steeled himself. Just one more question. Then it would be over. "Why did you keep the ring?" he rasped out.

He was mesmerized by her tears making trails down her face. "I remember what you told me… when you proposed. I'd asked why it was platinum, and you said, 'My love for you is like platinum…'"

"Unbendable. Unbreakable." His words fell out. She'd laughed at the time. Said it was the corniest thing she had ever heard. But then she said yes. Then she kissed him, and he was sure he could die a happy man. He met her eyes, but she averted hers.

"I wanted a reminder. That someone once cared that much about me, but I had let them down." There was a tremor in her voice. "I wanted to think of a better time. Something that could have been if I hadn't been so blind."

Baatar closed his eyes. "I wish for that better time everyday…"

They stayed that way for a little, reminiscing. Quietly mourning their past life together. Wishing for another chance.

"Son! I was worried. How are you feeling?"

"Surprisingly… whole. Like my life is about to go in a whole new direction."

Suyin looked delightedly at her son. "That's wonderful." He gave a half-hearted smile back.

He would live his life. He couldn't bend time, but he could bend what was to come. A place where he had a purpose. A place where he belonged. He felt a painful pang.

He could never stop loving Kuvira. Perhaps he liked the hurt. It was always the inventor's curse to think of the impossible.

But it was also his job to make it true.