[Korra hadn't gone back to the Beach House -- she didn't want to explain to Mako, and that would be the first place Chekov or Hei would try to find her. She doesn't want to see either of them. She galloped with Naga deep into the forest, stopping only when they reached the Drowning Pool. While Naga slacked her thirst, Korra gave into wracking sobs.
By the time Hei finds them, Naga is curled up in a tight ball, enveloping Korra like a protective shell. She snarls at his approach.]
[ Within the tumble of Naga's milky fur, Korra is almost completely obscured. Still, what Hei makes out is telling enough. Her hair is mussed, face tear-stained. But her bright eyes still have all their the power to pierce him to the quick. He approaches her carefully. The air is moist so near the Drowning Pool, and he's aware of the gentle susurration of water, like an echo of non-sound, that affects the resonance of his own tread, the quiet in-out of his breathing. Part of him wonders if he should just leave her alone. He can imagine himself turning away, sure she'll pull herself out of it, and being gone. And when they next meet, he won't bring it up, and she won't bring it up, and the days and nights will go by, and the weeks and the months. ]
[ And that will be so easy in a way, because the trouble of conjuring up consideration from thin air is still too unfamiliar for Hei. Better to be distant; better to be cruel. That's as known and well-fitting to him as his bulletproof coat. ]
[ Instead he settles on a fallen log, a few paces off from Korra. Says, after a long pause, ] There's something I want to tell you.
[Korra clings tightly to Naga and thinks about telling him to go the fuck away. She doesn't want to hear what he has to say. She's still pissed off about earlier.
But if she tells him to leave, he will. And that would be it.]
If you're going to tell me I'm being unreasonable, then you can leave right now..
[ Quiet, but a simple admission. His gaze drifts for a moment from Korra to the soft, bristling carpet of fallen leaves and peaty earth behind her, to the faint trail Naga's pawprints left when she arrived here. In Heaven's War, Hei had been trained to disguise his tracks with a branch, lightly brushing the bootprints away. He isn't sure why he's recalling this right now. Then he realizes it's because a part of him feels strangely, unnervingly tensile, like a coiled spring. As if he's going to be attacked. Maybe he is? It's not his usual way to share details of what he does for payback with strangers. He has no idea how Korra will react to it. Usually he tells her what he thinks might interest her, vetting out what in his opinion she'd rather not know. But there's no point in withholding details about something that directly concerns her. ]
[ Eventually, ] After you'd wound up in the hospital, I ... did something. To Delacroix's lab.
[You're not being unreasonable. She relaxes just a little to hear that. She's been struggling for hours with her anger, and the secret fear that maybe it isn't justified. And that's the worst part, doubting herself.
When he mentions the psycho's lab, Korra sits up.]
[ She seems ... receptive. Hei studies the tiny lights flickering down in the blue depths of Korra's eyes, quivering reflections of the sunlight dappling the trees overhead. He opens his mouth to begin, then stops. Not because his resolve has petered out. It's because if Korra mulls his answer over, tries to shuffle the pieces together, they might click in her subconscious. She might realize what Hei does (used to do?) for a living, back home. Dismantling security systems. Infiltrating high-risk environments. Causing damage -- to people and equipment alike. ]
[ He licks his lips, then scowls a little, face a grim mask for a second. Bitter, almost. It smoothes out after the barest moment. Calmly, he says, ] Delacroix is very isolated. Her connections aren't to people so much as to ... things. Ideas. Her research. Which is where I hit her. [ A beat, before his eyes meet hers. ] The night after you'd been shot, I trashed her lab. The whole thing.
[ So she'd know what it was like to have something valuable wrecked, in a careless eyeblink. He doesn't say that to Korra. But does he really need to? ]
[Korra studies him intently, feeling like there's something more he isn't saying. But the connections she's making aren't the ones he thinks. (Because, come on. Like she hasn't already put those,/I> pieces together yet.)]
That was the lab Chekov was working in. With all that stuff. [She remembers Chekov telling her about the trashing of his lab, and how much work of his had been destroyed. He'd been really upset.]
[ Maybe she's already figured out Hei's profession, yes. But he wonders how deeply the knowledge is embedded in her layers of consciousness. If it had sunk in completely, they wouldn't be having a discussion. There'd be no having of any kind. Period. He can't imagine Korra wanting to be near him, if she understood what he really was. Is. He's made a choice to keep his sharper aspects concealed, yes; grating against the softness, at the very edge of slicing out. But some things go beyond choice. Some deeds have such power and resonance they become your own nature, and eclipse everything else you do. Korra's too young, still, to understand that. Because part of Hei cares about her, and perhaps always will, he can indulge whatever illusions she has of him, and maybe even take some quiet pride in maintaining them for her. What he can't and won't do, however, is share them. ]
[ It's a quiet relief when she focuses on Chekov's peripheral involvement, out of everything else. In reply, he tips a shoulder, not carelessness, but a silent It is what it is. ]
I know. But if you're a scientist, what matters are your notes. The facts in your head. As long as you have those, you can start over. [ A couple of beats, before he amends, ] It'd take as long for Delacroix to recover from that setback, as it took you to heal from the injury.
[But he's your friend. How could you attack her, knowing it would hurt him too? That would be Korra's normal response. There's no justice in hurting innocent people, and even now, Korra knows that.
She just doesn't care. Let's talk about this later. Like the fact that his friend almost crippled her was a minor issue, something to procrastinate on. Like those months she spent recovering were no big deal.
She's died. It was scary and awful and she still has nightmares about it, but it was also largely an accident. Random chance, which is its own kind of horrifying but one Korra could move on from because she had to. It was either learn to deal with it or spend her life jumping at shadows.
What Marie did to her was so much worse than dying. What if Korra had lost her ability to walk, or the use of her arm? Would she have been able to airbend at all? Unable to bend, unable to fight, in a world where being the Avatar means nothing... what would she have been? Nothing. Marie almost finished what Amon started. And it had been her own conscious, targeted choice.]
Good.
[She settles back against Naga, not looking at him anymore. He's still not forgiven. Revenge is great and all, but when she had needed his support, he'd torn her down instead.]
[ If Korra's Good comes as a surprise, Hei doesn't let it show. (It doesn't) His ideas of Korra are wrapped up in kindness. But he also knows how narrow and stifling anger can be, how it can close on all other emotions until they curdle into corruption. Korra's innocence is a transient thing. At the rate her life's going, it'll last barely another summer before the petals' pinks start to fade and the stench of reality begins to corrupt. In the back of his mind, he knows it must've been cruel, the way he'd been so uncaring, the way Pavel had shrugged her anger off. It must've felt like going to the police when you've been burgled or attacked or raped, and them telling you to forget it, because life goes on and in a few years from now, what will it matter? ]
[ What she doesn't understand is Hei's flickering moral compass, his ideas of right and wrong. There are layers of cold indifference built up over his history; chip away one and it will reveal the memories of five years ago. Insert a needle through the epidermis, and it'll reveal a long column of the past, of horrors that have been compacted and hidden away. Each one meaning less and less emotion, lost behind years of sediment. Unfortunately Korra's met him when the thickest sheet has formed and the ice is almost impenetrable. ]
[ Almost. ]
[ He doesn't try to defend himself to Korra. But he does say, after a pause. ] Try not to be too angry with Pavel. You're his friend. But Marie is too. He couldn't condemn her without hearing her side of the story as well. [ The difference between him and Hei. Pavel wanted to know Why. All Hei focused on was What Next? ]
I don't need you making excuses for him. [What could Marie's side of the story possibly be? "I hated the sound of her voice, so I shot her." "I didn't like the song she was singing, so I shot her." "I tripped on a rock and I shot her. Then I tripped on another rock and shot her again." (Korra's not particularly imaginative, particularly when she's upset.)]
[ Frost has formed on the surface of Hei's voice, and his face is the same, distant and fatally cold. It chafes at his patience, getting tangled up in all these teenaged dramas, their stupidities and recklessness and self-absorption. But he doesn't know if he can withdraw into the privacy of his own mind. (Tonight? Later? Anymore?) After all, anybody can tumble into his life again if they're so inclined, and ring the doorbell even as he's trying to bar the door of his sympathies shut. It's strange. What's never bothered him before, does now. He's used to feeling his indifference around him like a suit of armor or a giant phone cubicle -- a structure containing only him inside. Now he's forced to consider his time in the City as a network of dwellings, a honeycomb of competing lives. ]
[ He doesn't like it, and it shows in the terseness of his words. ]
Delacroix is crazy. But there's a reason for that. Just because I don't care about her sob-story, doesn't mean Pavel will do the same.
Well I don't care either. [She would if she actually heard it. She can't harden her heart to the pain she sees, no matter what's been done to her. (She forgave Tarrlok, after all.) But as long as she doesn't know, she doesn't care, and she doesn't want to care.
And if you're gonna get all pissy at her, you can just leave. She doesn't want to deal with your wintery temper on top of everything else, and she's not about to jump through hoops to make your Big Bad Mood go away.]
[ His look is still removed and cold as an Arctic wasteland; white as far as the eye can see. But that's not aimed at Korra. Just Hei's default state of being -- especially when he's tired or fed-up. He doesn't expect her to do anything other than what she wants to. If Hei functions on cool self-sovereignty, then Korra certainly does the same. But that's not always the smart choice. Sometimes when he was younger, Amber used to tell him Feelings aren't facts, Hei. Which was, he supposed, something any soldier ought to learn. Even though it wasn't quite accurate. If they were large enough, hard enough, feelings were facts. Not to be swept away with a couple of rationalizations, however pertinent. ]
[ Still, it was irksome. Maybe he expected Korra to be a little above the pettiness, even as he's aware of how vindictive and small-minded human beings truly are. Rising, he dusts the leaves off his clothes, not meeting her eyes. ]
Do as you please, Avatar Korra. [ Formal and deliberate. It's not to rub anything in her face. Simply a reminder that if she's so obsessed with being the Avatar, she needs to own it. That includes exercising impartiality and clear-headedness. Hei can't tell her what to feel. But he can ask her to be objective, because it'd be a pity if this promising girl was crushed under the burning weight of her own temper and bad choices. A pity if she ended up ... like him. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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By the time Hei finds them, Naga is curled up in a tight ball, enveloping Korra like a protective shell. She snarls at his approach.]
Shhhhhhh, Naga.
[She doesn't acknowledge him.]
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[ And that will be so easy in a way, because the trouble of conjuring up consideration from thin air is still too unfamiliar for Hei. Better to be distant; better to be cruel. That's as known and well-fitting to him as his bulletproof coat. ]
[ Instead he settles on a fallen log, a few paces off from Korra. Says, after a long pause, ] There's something I want to tell you.
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But if she tells him to leave, he will. And that would be it.]
If you're going to tell me I'm being unreasonable, then you can leave right now..
no subject
[ Quiet, but a simple admission. His gaze drifts for a moment from Korra to the soft, bristling carpet of fallen leaves and peaty earth behind her, to the faint trail Naga's pawprints left when she arrived here. In Heaven's War, Hei had been trained to disguise his tracks with a branch, lightly brushing the bootprints away. He isn't sure why he's recalling this right now. Then he realizes it's because a part of him feels strangely, unnervingly tensile, like a coiled spring. As if he's going to be attacked. Maybe he is? It's not his usual way to share details of what he does for payback with strangers. He has no idea how Korra will react to it. Usually he tells her what he thinks might interest her, vetting out what in his opinion she'd rather not know. But there's no point in withholding details about something that directly concerns her. ]
[ Eventually, ] After you'd wound up in the hospital, I ... did something. To Delacroix's lab.
no subject
When he mentions the psycho's lab, Korra sits up.]
What did you do?
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[ He licks his lips, then scowls a little, face a grim mask for a second. Bitter, almost. It smoothes out after the barest moment. Calmly, he says, ] Delacroix is very isolated. Her connections aren't to people so much as to ... things. Ideas. Her research. Which is where I hit her. [ A beat, before his eyes meet hers. ] The night after you'd been shot, I trashed her lab. The whole thing.
[ So she'd know what it was like to have something valuable wrecked, in a careless eyeblink. He doesn't say that to Korra. But does he really need to? ]
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That was the lab Chekov was working in. With all that stuff. [She remembers Chekov telling her about the trashing of his lab, and how much work of his had been destroyed. He'd been really upset.]
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[ It's a quiet relief when she focuses on Chekov's peripheral involvement, out of everything else. In reply, he tips a shoulder, not carelessness, but a silent It is what it is. ]
I know. But if you're a scientist, what matters are your notes. The facts in your head. As long as you have those, you can start over. [ A couple of beats, before he amends, ] It'd take as long for Delacroix to recover from that setback, as it took you to heal from the injury.
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She just doesn't care. Let's talk about this later. Like the fact that his friend almost crippled her was a minor issue, something to procrastinate on. Like those months she spent recovering were no big deal.
She's died. It was scary and awful and she still has nightmares about it, but it was also largely an accident. Random chance, which is its own kind of horrifying but one Korra could move on from because she had to. It was either learn to deal with it or spend her life jumping at shadows.
What Marie did to her was so much worse than dying. What if Korra had lost her ability to walk, or the use of her arm? Would she have been able to airbend at all? Unable to bend, unable to fight, in a world where being the Avatar means nothing... what would she have been? Nothing. Marie almost finished what Amon started. And it had been her own conscious, targeted choice.]
Good.
[She settles back against Naga, not looking at him anymore. He's still not forgiven. Revenge is great and all, but when she had needed his support, he'd torn her down instead.]
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[ What she doesn't understand is Hei's flickering moral compass, his ideas of right and wrong. There are layers of cold indifference built up over his history; chip away one and it will reveal the memories of five years ago. Insert a needle through the epidermis, and it'll reveal a long column of the past, of horrors that have been compacted and hidden away. Each one meaning less and less emotion, lost behind years of sediment. Unfortunately Korra's met him when the thickest sheet has formed and the ice is almost impenetrable. ]
[ Almost. ]
[ He doesn't try to defend himself to Korra. But he does say, after a pause. ] Try not to be too angry with Pavel. You're his friend. But Marie is too. He couldn't condemn her without hearing her side of the story as well. [ The difference between him and Hei. Pavel wanted to know Why. All Hei focused on was What Next? ]
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[ Frost has formed on the surface of Hei's voice, and his face is the same, distant and fatally cold. It chafes at his patience, getting tangled up in all these teenaged dramas, their stupidities and recklessness and self-absorption. But he doesn't know if he can withdraw into the privacy of his own mind. (Tonight? Later? Anymore?) After all, anybody can tumble into his life again if they're so inclined, and ring the doorbell even as he's trying to bar the door of his sympathies shut. It's strange. What's never bothered him before, does now. He's used to feeling his indifference around him like a suit of armor or a giant phone cubicle -- a structure containing only him inside. Now he's forced to consider his time in the City as a network of dwellings, a honeycomb of competing lives. ]
[ He doesn't like it, and it shows in the terseness of his words. ]
Delacroix is crazy. But there's a reason for that. Just because I don't care about her sob-story, doesn't mean Pavel will do the same.
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And if you're gonna get all pissy at her, you can just leave. She doesn't want to deal with your wintery temper on top of everything else, and she's not about to jump through hoops to make your Big Bad Mood go away.]
no subject
[ His look is still removed and cold as an Arctic wasteland; white as far as the eye can see. But that's not aimed at Korra. Just Hei's default state of being -- especially when he's tired or fed-up. He doesn't expect her to do anything other than what she wants to. If Hei functions on cool self-sovereignty, then Korra certainly does the same. But that's not always the smart choice. Sometimes when he was younger, Amber used to tell him Feelings aren't facts, Hei. Which was, he supposed, something any soldier ought to learn. Even though it wasn't quite accurate. If they were large enough, hard enough, feelings were facts. Not to be swept away with a couple of rationalizations, however pertinent. ]
[ Still, it was irksome. Maybe he expected Korra to be a little above the pettiness, even as he's aware of how vindictive and small-minded human beings truly are. Rising, he dusts the leaves off his clothes, not meeting her eyes. ]
Do as you please, Avatar Korra. [ Formal and deliberate. It's not to rub anything in her face. Simply a reminder that if she's so obsessed with being the Avatar, she needs to own it. That includes exercising impartiality and clear-headedness. Hei can't tell her what to feel. But he can ask her to be objective, because it'd be a pity if this promising girl was crushed under the burning weight of her own temper and bad choices. A pity if she ended up ... like him. ]
[ He doesn't say that. He just exits the scene. ]