bright lights
by ariana j.
disclaimer: i don't own legend of korra.

When she lies down on the grass, her eyelids slide shut, and, for a moment, she concentrates on the cold grass poking into her back and the quiet chill of the breeze caressing her skin. She opens her eyes, blinks a little, and studies the stars. They are nowhere near as bright as the ones in the South Pole, nor are they as warm, but she appreciates them just as much.

She is Korra, and it is ironic that the only time she feels at balance with herself is when she forgets that she is also the Avatar.

A sigh, equal parts content and wistful, escapes into the air, and she's startled to notice that it came from her own throat. She berates herself, because when does Korra and wistful ever mix? She's in the middle of thanking the spirits that no one is there to hear, when—

"Hey. Isn't it getting a little late?"

In an automatic reflex, her face twists into an expression between crazed and defensive, her arms flying wildly. Her fingers curl into fists, and she is the perfect picture of a soldier caught sleeping on guard duty. Realization sets in, and Korra lowers her arms in an apology.

"Oh, it's only you," she mumbles, embarrassed and flustered for reasons she couldn't name. She coughs, once, twice, and doesn't make a move to lie back down on the ground.

Mako shrugs, already used to her extreme reactions. "You should be home," he says simply, odd eyebrows scrunching up slightly on his forehead. It's a statement, not a question, and Korra finds herself slightly irritated at his accusing tone.

"Yeah, I should be," she agrees amiably, a subtle undertone of arrogance in her voice.

"Why aren't you?" he finally asks her, and she suddenly has the most ridiculous urge to do a victory dance, if only because she finally got the ever-elusive Mako to show some interest in her. But the question strikes a foreign pang in her heart, and she finds herself answering honestly, for once.

"The South Pole is a pretty far place to journey, don't you think?" she says softly, uncharacteristically, and Mako's face almost twists into a grimace because of the underlying implications: Republic City isn't her home. He isn't sure why he should care, so he speedily swats the thought away.

"You know what I meant, Korra," he retorts after a few beats, but it's quiet and gentle and nowhere near as scathing as he would usually say it. She nods a little, not bothering to reply, and it finally hits him: there's something wrong with her.

"Is there—I mean, are you alright?"

Inside he bemoans at how stupid he must be, and that she's probably going to mock him soon—

She doesn't seem to have heard.

At this point, he is confused and worried and his first instinct is to run away, because, honestly? He doesn't know her, he doesn't know this girl named Korra, he doesn't know how she works or how she ticks or anything. All he knows is that he is indebted to her, that they wouldn't have gotten a shot the tournament without her and that Bolin wouldn't have his bending without her. All he knows is that, misguided violence and naiveté aside, she's a terribly good person, and that she'll change history one day, one way or the other.

Who is he to touch her?

He starts walking away after a moment, feet moving one, two, three steps away from her form.

Korra hears the crunch of his shoes moving away and doesn't bother to acknowledge the fact that he's leaving her and the fact that she's a bit disappointed. Instead, she deems it safe to lie down again, relishing in the way the dew soaked into her clothes.

Her eyes close again and picture the wide, blank expanse of untouched ivory that was her home. The grass wasn't quite cold enough to pretend it was snow, but she does it anyway and imagines a midnight snow flurry. Snowflakes touch her nose, and pretty soon the White Lotus sentries will have to find her half covered in white, smiling like a goof—

Her dream is almost too real, she finds herself thinking. She swears she could hear the angry footsteps of Howl coming towards her to take her back to the complex...

Her imagination blurs into reality when a familiar presence gingerly rests his back on the ground next to her, warm fingers tentatively reaching for her own. She clutches at them, and the loneliness that she didn't know existed was suddenly gone. She opens her icy blue eyes, dream forgotten, and doesn't even look at Mako. Instead she looks up at the sky.

She sees stars.