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'Here, let me.'
Warm hands descend on her shoulders, unbidden. Lin's first instinct is to recoil, lash out, but there's only one person in this entire building who would dare and be this thoughtlessly familiar with Commander Beifong. So she says, only moderately abrasive, 'That won't be necessary, Korra. I'm fine.'
It won't do, snapping at the Avatar in front of her officers—that is to say, snapping at the Avatar any more than strictly necessary. Korra is no longer seventeen, even if she makes that difficult to remember at times.
Now, for instance: willfully disregarding instructions as she prods at Lin's back with expert hands.
'Korra, I said—'
'You're fine, I know,' Korra says absently, fingertips smoothing over the singed skin on her exposed neck. 'Shush.'
Lin opens her mouth to fire a suitable retort, and then finds herself surrendering with a long-suffering sigh of the sort that would make Tenzin proud.
Perhaps she's growing soft in her old age. How Mother would laugh.
'Wow, this has got to hurt,' Korra says, now feeling around her ribcage, right where the stick-wielding thugs—the so-called Sons of Sozin, hah—got her. The armor took most of the force of the blows, preventing any serious damage, but Lin isn't metal, and no longer in the prime of her youth.
'Get on with it,' Lin says, gruff. 'I don't have all day.'
'I know, I know,' Korra says. 'You have paperwork.'
'Not all of us have the luxury of bypassing red tape, Avatar,' Lin says pointedly. It's odd how she's grown used to Korra's prattle; odder, even, how she finds herself responding on occasion, if only for the satisfaction of having the last word.
'Perks of the job,' Korra says. Her smile lights up her entire face. 'This won't take long,' she tells Lin as she sets about her task. 'Relax.'
Lin braces herself for the impact: the sudden chill, followed by indescribable warmth as torn skin stitches together, muscles mend and heal.
Korra frowns in concentration, and Lin tries not to gasp. She has been around Waterbenders all her life, experienced the healing procedure more times than she can count—inevitable in her line of work—but it never fails to take her by surprise, the overflow of sensation. She closes her eyes and feels the searing glow in her very bones.
'There,' Korra says. 'All done.' Lin opens her eyes slowly, feeling the glow dissipate and leave behind a trail of warmth, a curious sense of... restoration after having fallen to pieces. She takes in a deep breath, noting the way her ribs no longer protest. 'Those were banged up pretty bad,' Korra continues, 'A couple of days rest will —'
'Don't push it,' Lin growls, rising to her feet.
'It was worth a shot,' Korra says. Her grin is broad and teasing, and somewhere along the line Lin grew used to this too, this easy camaraderie that comes as naturally to Korra as her bending.
'You'll need a salve for those burns,' Korra says, thoughtful. Fingertips graze Lin's neck, soothing, and then it's a different sort of warmth spreading through her limbs. 'Master Arrluk should have plenty of those in store.'
'Yes,' Lin says. 'You should be heading back. It's getting late.' And Korra, bless her oblivious soul, complies with a smile and a quip about nocturnal wolf-bats that, under any other circumstance, would have merited a sharp rejoinder or two from Lin.
She finds herself calling out when Korra is nearly out of the door, 'Korra.'
'Yeah?'
'Thank you,' Lin says. 'For making time, and all your good work today. My men appreciate your presence in the team.'
It is only the truth and nothing more, but Korra appears far more pleased than she should; bashful, almost, as she says, 'Don't mention it. And anyway,' she shrugs, 'I'd rather beat up a few bad guys than sit and mediate.'
Lin knows all too well of Korra's misadventures in diplomacy. She can't recall the last time she saw Tenzin turn that particular shade of purple.
'You'll call me again, right? If you need me?' Korra says, anxious. 'Pro-bending doesn't start in another two months and Tenzin thinks I should be a part of the tax negotiations with the Southern Water Tribe because I need to learn about these things, and my metalbending—'
'I think that can be arranged,' Lin says, cutting her short.
'That'd be great!' Korra's smile is like the sun, and Lin finds her own lips quirking up in response. There's that feeling of warmth again, unasked for, and perhaps she's growing soft and foolish in her old age.
Her mother, she thinks, would laugh and laugh.
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