Trigger - (be-the-peaf week 25)
Word Count: 1,157
Summary: [He should pull the trigger. He should pull it now. | Mako. Korra. AU.]
be-the-peaf · Prompt 025 – Dream a Little Dream (of Me)
She’s out on the balcony when he finally tracks her through the crowd. He opens the glass door, setting the tray of champagne on the stone ledge. He was carrying it around for cover, disguised as a waiter for the other guests. But he doesn’t need it anymore now that he’s found her.
Taking two glasses from the tray, he walks forward, silent as a shadow as she leans into the high ledge, overlooking the city. He twists his arm around to her front, leaning into the back of her blue dress, his head is right next to hers and that’s when he finally sees what she sees. The straight black roads and dotted lights in the buildings, stretching out, farther and farther to the bay where they merge into the swaying water.
It’s not a very high view, but it’s still a pleasant escape from the mingled chattering of the party behind them. Her hand brushes against his fingertips as she pulls the glass from him, lazy bubbles floating to the top of the brim and onto her lips as she places them to the edge.
Her breath clings to the glass.
“It’s been awhile,” she says, taking a small sip from the brim. “I was beginning to miss your little ‘drop-ins’, Mako.”
He leans over, his arm brushing her shoulder as he places a hand on the cold stone. Bringing his own glass to his lips, they curl into a small smirk as they part, the alcohol sliding down his throat with ease. The aftertaste of the drink isn’t the best, but he’ll have to live with it. This won’t take long.
“I’ve been busy,” he explains. “I have other assignments besides tracking you down, you know.”
“Isn’t your boss getting annoyed?” she asks and her eyes follow the tail-lights of a passing Satomobile below, watching as it turns and disappears into the shadows and brick.
“Well,” he sets his glass on the edge and lowers his lips right beside her ear. His hand goes to his leg, running up smooth fabric of his uniform as he reaches his hip. “I am tracking the Avatar, after all. He knows it won’t be an easy task.”
A chuckle comes from her throat. “That is true.” She says, taking another drink. “I’m more than a match for you in a fight too.”
Then there’s something hard pressed into her back. Cold, too. She knows exactly what it is, even before he clicks the safety back. Korra sighs, putting her drink upon the ledge. Mako looks behind to make sure none of the party-goers have seen anything. But they haven’t, of course.
“Maybe not this time.” He says, his voice level, holding the gun in place. Korra sways as far as she can into the balcony, her eyes straight and forward, thinking of what she’s stumbled into.
“So is this it?” she asks, her gaze fixed on the horizon. She doesn’t dare to move. “Will you do it now? Finally pull that trigger?”
His fingers adjust and flex on the gun; sweaty and hot, even in this cold night air. Mako breaths in through his nose, looking into her hair. Licks his lips. Exhales through the mouth.
“Perhaps.” He says, rubbing his finger on the trigger. He’s been on this situation with her many times before and each time he was the one to pull away first; even when they were completely alone with his barrel pressed against her head. He would always back away, every single time.
And he doesn’t know why.
This time for sure.
He takes a sharp breath and his finger tightens around the gun -
- and she feels the weight push off her back as he slides the black weapon back into the depths of his clothes. He steps to her side and picks up his glass.
“I should get going.” He says, leaning in beside her to take her glass with him and she reaches in and grasps his wrist with a iron grip, immobilizing him. He stares at her hand, then to her.
“Is there a problem?”
“You’re a bastard, you know?” Korra says, her breath seeping through her teeth in a shallow rage. Her hand tightens, shaking in small tremors as it holds onto his wrist. “You just keep showing up out of nowhere, threaten me, pull guns and knives and shards of glass at my throat only to let me go free. You could have finished your job a long time ago. So why stop so short?”
His fingers graze the stem of the glass. If he wanted to he could knock it over, but he won’t. Mako stretches out and gets a hold on the glass. He lifts his hand against hers. She lets him go.
“It’s complicated.” He says, walking back into the party. He leaves the tray where it is at the door and walks a straight line through the crowd until he reaches the stairway at the other side of the room. He ventures down its many steps, his shoes tapping against the polished floor and when he pauses for a moment as he reaches the street, looking right above him to the balcony. She’s still there, leaning out against the rail and he knows she is watching him. He takes a right, passing underneath the stony ledge and turns the next corner he finds.
He should have pulled the trigger.
It would have been easy, after all, to place the gun to her head and shoot into the night. But he didn’t - instead he removed the gun from her back. He let her go. He knows there will be consequences, Amon will probably put him off work for a week or two for his failure. But he doesn’t care; no one will ever be able to get to her like he does.
Eventually he will find her again (she’s never that hard to find) and it will be the end of the road. No more hide-and-seek or clever tricks or strong, cocky voices ringing in his ears and around his entire being; toying with him, offering him a drink or bite to eat while he holds a barrel to her stomach or her heart, fingers poised and ready to pull. It will be the end and he won’t have a choice. No more cat and mouse. No more hunter and prey. He’ll find her again one day; in a week or a month or a year and it will be over. But until it comes he’ll stay in, laying in wait and dream - dream and dream of that day of days when there is no escape or words or thoughts to make him stray away. When he’ll put his gun to her head. Pull the trigger and wipe the Avatar from the face of this world.
But now it wasn’t the right time. And he disappears into the inky night.
I know. That was confusing. Not my best work. *shrugs and scratches head at what to do with this prompt*
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