tampered | you're glue and i'm a bad idea

IT WAS A STUPID PRANK. [She tries to knee him in the crotch for emphasis, but she doesn't have enough room to put a lot of power behind it.] You tortured a room full of people and destroyed where I work. Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're either cursed or completely batshit crazy.

'Tortured'? [ His voice drips with cold disdain. When she tries to knee him, he lets his weight go heavy on hers, flattening her down. A reminder that she may have the force and physique of a tank, but he's much, much stronger than he looks. ] Let me play you the world's saddest song on the world's smallest violin. [ Without warning, he grabs her by both biceps and hauls her up, shoving her against the wall. Their faces are barely a sliver apart. ] You destroyed the bar -- as much as any damage I caused. As for your 'prank' -- [ something shutters across his expression, vicious and self-contained in turns ] what made you decide that was a good idea? Did you run out of boy-troubles and drama to keep yourself occupied?

[ If the words are cruel -- well, they're meant to be. ]

[His words cut off any defense she planned to make -- The bar was fine until YOU arrived! and I was just protecting myself! She doesn't have an answer to his question...nothing that makes any sense to her now, at least.

Boy-troubles and drama Way to trivialize everything she's been struggling with -- desire, doubt, confusion, shame. It twists up her insides, making her feel nauseous with shame. Aang wouldn't have gotten into this situation. Aang didn't let his personal problems get in the way of being the Avatar. She hates herself, hates the memory of the last time they were in a position like this. What have you been doing with yourself?!

She's not sure whether she wants to cry or throw up, but she does neither. Right now she needs to keep her head in the game. For Chekov.]

[ She may be trying to keep her head in the game. But that doesn't stop Hei from reading her emotional signature right on her face. She's always been semi-transparent to him. The blue whorls of her eyes don't have the power to entangle secrets so much as to transmit them. Any enemy can get what he needs in a glimpse. He wants to say something more -- something much crueler. But there's little satisfaction in winning a verbal spar against a teenage girl. ]

[ She's not his enemy. Just a nuisance. ]

[ A sudden sick chill rides up his spine; disgusted -- with her, with himself -- he's prepared to let her drop and walk away. But underneath all that he's still furious, the emotion percolating into a black frustration. Because he's not some goddamn teddy-bear in a big jacket -- someone she can play around with, pull pranks on, without expecting repercussions. If she knew who -- and what -- he truly was, she'd shrink away in dismay. ]

[ Pressed this close, he can smell her, that familiar Korra-smell, with the acrid undertones of sweat and rage, and the combination stirs up a weird alchemy. Hei's face drops to her throat, at first as if he just plans to brace it there -- but in the next breath he's leaning in to kiss her. Except Kiss isn't the right word. It denotes an intimacy and tenderness -- and this gesture lacks both. It's hard and biting, an assertion of control, a warning, a hint as to what's to come. ]

Mmf! [The last thing she expects -- or wants -- is his lips crushed against hers. The same lips she's kissed countless times before, kisses rough and painful and full of heat, but there's no heat here. This isn't a tussle or a competition, a challenge she can rise to meet. It's a cold assertion of dominance.

She brings her knee up hard and in the same breath shoves him back. Her body is hers. He can't buy it with gifts and he can't take it by force.]

I really hope you're cursed.

[If he makes any movement towards her, she's ready to bend the air out of his lungs, choke him until he passes out. She'll find Chekov on her own.]

[ The taste of blood is sourweet on his tongue, and he's unprepared and half breathless when she shoves him back, a gasp catching in his throat. For a moment he doesn't care if she wants him or not. He's screwed around with peoples' boundaries for so long. What's another to add to the list? He half-sees her as a plaything anyway. And with Yin gone, he doesn't care about good and he doesn't care about bad, he cares only that there's a warm body here in his grasp and he cares that he doesn't have to care what he does with it. ]

[ His lips burn as he half-moves to press back into her space -- except halfway there he stops. Stop, and stares at Korra's eyes, and wonders if he's lost his fucking mind. Suddenly he has a vision of Pai. Alone and adrift. He thinks of someone doing this to Pai, someone trying to control her when he wasn't around to protect her, to save her from somebody like the person he's becoming. (Already become?) ]

[ At his sides, his fingers shake. His face feels hot and shocked, but he lets out a breath, and with it, all his rage. Exhales something that might be a jittery I'm sorry. ]

[He moves and so do her hands, in a movement she didn't know she knew to pull the air from his lungs. She's relieved when he stops himself. She doesn't want to mess up and kill him. (She doesn't want to believe someone she's let get so close could betray her so badly.) The expression on his face (shocked, a little horrified, vaguely apologetic) tugs at her heart but she locks it firmly in place.]

Where's Chekov?

[Everything else, all her tears and insecurities and trauma, can wait until she knows her friend is safe.]

[ Hei doesn't answer her right away. Glass crunches under his boot soles as he takes a step back. Leans against the edge of the shattered bartop, his hands shoved in his pockets. His face is blank when he stares at Korra. But it's neither shields nor shuttering. Instead the gaze unspools, vague and unbroken as if some switch inside him has been flipped; he seems far away, lost in his own depths. The expression might as well be the glassy dead eyes of a corpse. ]

Chekov -- [ He struggles to focus, to let the foul memory of just seconds ago fade; but it clings around him with a palpable sizzle. The vein in his temple throbs. But what she's asking is more important. He blinks, then points a single finger at the rooftop. Up there. The past few evenings since Yin's absence, replaying themselves in his mind, make him cringe. What kind of a venal jackass is he really, to be so unkind to this girl? Sure, she's pugnacious and annoying, and makes him want to smack her sometimes ... they don't make punk rock songs out of circumstances like that for nothing. But there's something to it that isn't all bad. At least, when one party is an Avatar and the other a ... monster. Stands to reason. ]

[ Why keep fucking that up? Why be so cruel to her, over and over? It's himself he's condemning, not her. ]

[The dead look in his eyes frightens her, and a small part of her hates him for being impossible to hate. She doesn't want to worry about him. She doesn't want the temptation to reach out and tell him It's okay because it's not okay.

He hurt her. He can go somewhere else for comfort.

Still, it's a sign of how much trust -- or something very much like trust -- remains that she turns her back on him to head up to the roof.]

[ Her departure stirs an interest as listless as his raised head when she leaves. Hei doesn't bother following her. The events of earlier have faded to a numbed-out distance. Like they've happened to someone else. He feels both drained and somehow almost sick -- it must be the comedown from the adrenaline. In his head he keeps seeing a blue-eyed girl pointing at the stars, and he thinks he might never stop hearing her voice. Look brother. I made the stars fall. All night ... without sleeping. ]

[ He won't be there when Korra returns. Won't be at his flat, either; the furniture will stay glued to the ceiling for a week afterward. If she's smart, she'll know better (he hopes she'll know better) than to look for him. For the next few hours, he really doesn't want to be found. ]

[Whether she knows better or not is debatable, but she's not going to be seeking him out any time soon.

It doesn't take long for her to find Chekov on the roof. When she sees him dangling from the flagpole, she falls to her knees with a choked sob. Normally getting him down wouldn't be a problem, but she's exhausted and sore and still a little dizzy from that uppercut Hei gave her. What if her arms give out? What if she slips and drops him? What if she kills him again?

Get up, Korra. Letting him dangle there is just about as dangerous as dropping him. She looks around, but there's nothing she can tie around him to act as a safety if he falls. Airbending? No, she can't airbend him off the pole. Maybe she can use it to soften his fall if he drops, but she doesn't have the delicate control for anything more precise than that yet.

Maybe if she can wake him up, they can do it together. She leans very carefully over the side of the building to poke Chekov's waist.]

Chekov. Chekov, wake up.

Chekov. Chekov, wake up.

[The words seem to come from a great distance. He doesn't particularly want to wake up. There's something comfortable about unconsciousness, and he can't remember the specifics, but Chekov is relatively sure that he'll wake up in an unpleasant situation.

Unpleasant situ--right. He and Korra had made Hei incredibly angry, and...

And that explains why his body feels like a giant bruise, why his shoulders are throbbing with pain, why his hands are numb. But where's Korra? Hei had been terrifyingly merciless; there's no telling what he did to her. As tempting as slipping back into the warm, muffled depths of consciousness is, Pavel can't very well look for Korra if he doesn't wake up.

He forces his eyes open and immediately wishes that he hadn't bothered. His feet are dangling above the ground--much too far above the ground for his liking. One of the first lessons Starfleet teaches its cadets is how to survive a fall without dying, but Chekov has no desire to test his training. He has to take stock of the rest of his situation, find a way down that doesn't involve broken bones and ripped ligaments...

His mind clears slowly and, as it clears, it wants to focus on the hot pain shooting through his shoulders and the fact that the ground is much farther away than it should be. It takes a moment for him to notice that he's being poked.]

Korra?

[A wave of relief hits. She's alive and mobile, and those are both good signs. He'd been afraid of what Hei might do, considering how murderous his mood had been.]

You look horrible.

[Korra grins widely with relief as Chekov wakes up.]

Yeah, well you look worse. [taking a deep breath] How stuck together are your hands? Can you do that thing you did on Hei's ceiling?

[Korra's sense of humor is still intact, so she must be mostly okay.]

Very stuck. [Which is good, actually, because he can't really feel them. The worst thing that could happen at this point would be the curse going away.] It isn't close to midnight, is it?

{Damn.] I don't know. [She rubs the back of her neck and tries to think through the pain.]

Okay. I'm going to grab you under your arms, and I need you to try and break your hands apart. Can you do that?

[Korra really does look awful. Chekov doesn't think that it's a great idea for her to go leaning out over roofs and hauling people up.]

No--no, no, no, we could both fall. Let me get closer, at least.

[This is something he can do. With some twisting and leg-kicking (and no small amount of tongue-biting, as Chekov would rather not make any dreadfully unmanly noises in front of Korra when his shoulders protest enthusiastically), he maneuvers himself to the base of the flagpole.]

Okay... you can help me now. Please.

[Grunting with the effort, Korra leans over and gets a solid grip on Chekov under his arms.]

Okay. Try to get your hands apart. [Hopefully quickly. She only has so much strength remaining.]

[He wants to make a joke--maybe something about coming back and haunting her if she accidentally drops him--but it's really difficult to unstick hands that are numb when they're at the ends of arms that feel like they're on the verge of detaching. After a moment of struggling, they pull free from each other and Korra becomes the only thing preventing Chekov from falling.]

Ooof! Okay, hang on tight.

[Her muscles scream protest, but she manages to pull him over the edge. Once he's safely on the roof, she falls backwards and collapses.]

[He does hang on, which, unfortunately, means that one hand sticks to Korra's forearm. Not that it matters much; once she hauls him over, he flops down next to her.]

What did he do to you, Korra?

[She doesn't know how to answer that. We beat each other up; he kissed me and I pushed him off. She can still feel him on her lips, a cold layer of grease, and it makes her shudder just a bit.]

We just fought.

[He doesn't believe there's any such thing as just fighting, especially not between Korra and Hei.]

Are you hurt badly?

[She shakes her head.]

I'll be fine. What about you?

I haven't decided.

[No, but seriously.]

If you want to talk, I have no intention of trying to go anywhere for the next several minutes, at least.

[That gets a weak laugh out of her, and she manages to roll over onto her stomach so she can bury her head in her arms.]

We are so stupid.

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