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[mortemscintilla]

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[anatural]

[She wants to believe him, but how can that be true? Old wounds are opening up now, issues that she thought she'd resolved, like her guilt over killing Chekov. Every past mistake coming back and cutting up her insides. And every past hurt. The time he'd pulled out the knife. The time he'd flipped her over after she told him "no." Every time they'd been together and his mind had gone somewhere else.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ She's quiet, and something in Hei rattles, as if in a wind gust. He wishes she'd look at him, but at the same time, why would she? His face is full of things no one should like to recall, the night in the shed under the fizzy low-watt bulb, the evening outside the bar, where he'd told her he should kill her, the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol rising up to overlap Korra's juddering shock, her loneliness after all her friends left, and he didn't offer more than a token reassurance, the absence after she'd killed Pavel, and his idea of comfort was to pound her into the mattress in time to her strained gasps, then snap at her afterward. All those bitter times come back to him now in an inventory of ambivalence and regret, so jumbled up it makes his head pound. ]

[ Very gently, he rolls them, so she's on her back. Settles against her, a heavy bony quilt of warmth, his arms bracketing her on either side. When he kisses her, it's soft and moist as rain, his lips dotting across her wet face, tasting the salt on his tongue. ]

You don't believe me. [ It's not a question. His voice is raspy, and to his own ears, strangely tender. ] Do you know ... I've never known simple joy? Darker, more complex things, yes. But joy? No. I was infected by the psychosis of winning by age eleven. [ A beat, the words stifled for a second, then jerking out of him. ] I know I'm not always good to you. I've hurt you and I've used you. But I wasn't lying when I said you've made a difference. Your energy. Your kindness -- to someone like me, it's a miracle you exist at all in this world.

[ It's strange, trying to be honest when his expertise lies in deception. But these words have to be said to her. Over and over, until she believes them. If she ever will. ]

[anatural]

[She doesn't believe him -- not all the way, not completely -- but she's not strong enough to hold onto her doubts when he's saying exactly what she wants to hear. He lies on top of her and it's like he's putting a bandage over an open wound. She grips the fabric of his shirt and arches into his kiss, but it's not sexual. She's too scooped out for sex, drained of energy and feeling and too fragile to take off the shield of her clothing.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei kisses back, and it's a hot, urgent slide of lips. But his passion in this moment isn't erotic. Instead he gathers her in close, burying his face in the lush tumbled warmth of her hair. He is breathing, but perhaps the better descriptor is that he is breathing her, her moist scent and the tang of her tears, her emotion. It's never something he's cared for -- but in this moment, it hits him. How much he's wanted this. The idea awes him. He's only just beginning to approach the shape and color of his feelings for Korra: their ways and meaning. He'd done so little thinking about her before, and what there was, tracked such a narrow groove. ]

[ It's unexpected, but there's a prickle of gratitude in there too. It's so rare that anything surprises him like this. ]

[ It's a long moment before his grip loosens. He draws slightly back to look at her face. There's something both distant but warmly drunk in his expression. ]

I know ... It's not enough. Whatever I've given you. Or what I'm saying now. But I swear, it's true.

[anatural]

I want it to be. [Maybe a stupid admission, but it's not like she has a history of making smart choices about him.

She gently pushes him off, maneuvering so she's curled up at his side, her head resting against his chest. Her body feels heavy and her heart feels bleak, but she knows it will all be better after she's gotten some sleep. Maybe the sound of his heartbeat will drown out the whispers of her darker thoughts.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ I want it to be. That honesty, that sweetness ... It makes his brain melt, even as good sense tells him: Beware. How has this happened, that he's been given this girl who might as well be the antithesis of him, yet shaped to his every susceptibility? Stronger than him, kinder than him, full of earnestness and humor and beauty and all that power that lures him, raises his awareness and his cock and his every barbed-wire instinct -- turning it love-soaked and shapeless. Some small bright fragment of her is in him. She is singing through his sinews. ]

[ No, not an antithesis at all. Just a contrast that offers balance. Two sides of the same coin. Diamond cuts diamond, after all. ]

[ He doesn't know how to express any of that. Not articulately and rationally. Instead he sighs and hitches her closer. One leg thrown over hers, an arm encircling her, letting her fit against him as if he is a bolster. Practical concerns intrude -- he wants to ask if she'd like a drink of water. But another part of him is loathe to let her go. It's better this way, anyhow -- the words have been spoken, the grief has passed and left her wrung out, and now his job is only this. Holding her until she falls asleep. It's not his usual way. But he's changed his ways in other things lately. What's one more to add to the list? ]

[ Oh, you can change, but you'll both pay for it. The question is ... what price? ]