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To keep your footing even when you are pushed out of balance: that is the strength of the Avatar, Korra knows now. Strength can never just be; it has to be sustained by pushing at boundaries. It can’t grow if it isn’t challenged, and the Avatar must ever grow, must never stand still. The flow of the world demands it.
The dreams, lately, have started to change. Korra is still suspended over the gaping maw of the cave, her arms thrust out to either side, her skin burning as the metal poison penetrates it. She can’t breathe; her insides are crawling with raw, reeling panic – but when she forces her eyes open and looks down, it isn’t Zaheer she sees. It’s Asami, shielding her eyes to look up at her, as if Korra is too bright to look at.
-
When Korra brings it up to Asami, Asami is cutting up daikon for a special kind of broth she learned to cook in Ba Sing Se, and the knife stops moving for a few seconds before Asami speaks.
“Mind running that by me again?”
“Oh, come on, you heard me.” Korra picks up a sliver of radish and eats it, focusing on the spicy taste and trying not to let the thrill of fear in her gut spread further.
Asami delicately puts down the knife, and looks up at Korra. Her hair is loose and voluminous from the shower she took earlier.
“You want me to tie you up,” she repeats. Her voice is flat.
“Yes.” There is a little shiver of shame in it, but mostly fear, and some confused want.
“Korra, you’re –” Asami rests her chin on her hand, and leans towards Korra a little. She lowers her voice, even though there is no one else in the house. “You freak out sometimes when I grab your wrist a little too tightly. You hate it when you can’t move, when you’re not in control. And I understand, I really do. So where is this coming from?”
Korra blows a strand of hair out of her face. “I think I need it.”
“What’s this about?” Asami says, a bit sharp now. She narrows her eyes at Korra, as if trying to pick up the answer from her face.
“It’s not a game,” Korra says. Without warning, there is the hot prickle of tears in her eyes. “Don’t you see, Asami? I’m strong enough now to face it.”
“Korra, you already faced it. You healed and you fought Zaheer and you won.”
“Yes, but. It’s –” It’s hard to find the words to describe this to Asami; Korra’s not the one who’s good at words, that’s always been Asami. “I got stronger, and I defeated him, but I still haven’t defeated… that.”
Asami softens, though her brow is creased in worry. “Is it something that needs to be defeated?”
“I keep dreaming about it,” Korra admits. It’s the first time she’s said it out loud to anyone. “It’s blocking me. I have to face it.”
They sit in silence for a moment. The kitchen is fragrant with the warm smell of soup. The rain taps gently against the window. Korra feels, for a moment, as though she’s not the Avatar: as though she and Asami are, for one moment, the only people alive.
“All right,” Asami says, even though she’s frowning. “If it’s what you need, then okay. We’ll try it.”
Korra breathes in deeply.
“You’re going to have to tell me exactly what it is you want, though.”
“Yes,” Korra agrees.
-
By now Asami has learned to trust that Korra knows herself better than when they met, but it’s clear that she’s still doubtful about this scheme. She’s made the constraints to Korra’s instructions: a collection of wide leather bands that can be looped and twisted and that come with a special application to attach them to the walls or ceiling, so they can imitate something like the situation Zaheer put Korra in.
They’ve agreed to simply try them on this time, to see if they feel good, and to take them off again after that.
Korra’s on the bed, sitting up. Asami’s in front of her. They’re both fully clothed. Korra isn’t sure yet if this will be something she might like, rather than something she simply has to go through. For now, nothing about it feels sexy.
“Ready?” Asami asks, for the fourth time.
“Spirits, Asami,” Korra snaps, irritable with the tension that is coiling inside her. “How many times do I need to tell you?”
Asami’s hands tighten around the leather straps. “I don’t want to do anything wrong.”
“I’ll tell you,” Korra assures her. “Just like we talked about.”
“I know, I know, I’m just –”
“Hey,” Korra says. “I’m nervous too.”
“See?” Asami says. Her shoulders drop. “Now you’re reassuring me. That’s not how it’s supposed to go, is it?”
“It’s not supposed to go any way,” Korra says, half to remind Asami, half to remind herself. “It goes the way it goes. Come here for a minute, will you?”
Asami, still clutching the restraints, drops on her knees onto the low bed. Korra scoots forward and leans up, kisses Asami softly on the mouth. Asami tilts forward into the kiss, her hair falling around Korra’s face. They kiss, gently and slowly, nothing hurried about it – but the bonds are between them, and Korra feels their presence clearly.
“I trust you,” Korra says quietly against Asami’s mouth. “I trust you as much as I used to fear him.”
Asami leans back. Her smile is a little sad. “That’s a lot, is it?”
“It is.”
Asami’s face changes: her eyes get that gleam of resolve that she gets when she’s solving a difficult engineering problem. “All right,” she says, and she sounds firmer now. “Want to give this a go?”
“Yes.”
They separate; Korra lies back and Asami gets back off the bed. For a moment she looks down at Korra, her head tilted a little, as if Korra is a blueprint that she’s reading.
“Behind your back?”
Korra hums her assent and rolls onto her side, holding out her arms behind her. Asami sits down behind her and loops one of the straps around Korra’s wrists and pulls the loop until it closes. She does it quickly, efficiently. The touch of the leather, as expected as it was, still makes Korra’s skin prickle with a sudden increased awareness.
Asami runs a hand over Korra’s forearm and tests the bond by slipping a finger under it. “Is that tight enough for you?”
Korra experimentally tries to move her hands. “It doesn’t feel tight.”
“It shouldn’t. Not too loose?”
“It feels okay,” Korra says. It doesn’t resemble the way she was tied up in the cave, but that was what they were going for: to ease into it. “They’re soft.”
“Good.” Asami closes a hand around Korra’s bicep and pulls her over until she’s on her back. Smiling, she settles herself astride Korra’s thighs and leans down to kiss her, slipping her tongue into the kiss. Korra reciprocates, and gets a first little thrill of a tension that’s half desire, half discomfort as her hands twitch against the bonds behind her back. She would normally take Asami’s face in her hands, run her fingers through her hair, wrap her arms around her back – and now she can’t. It’s an odd feeling. All she can do is kiss Asami back, slide her tongue against Asami’s, focus her energy on her mouth: it’s the only point where they’re touching.
Asami pulls back. “All right?”
“Bit weird,” Korra says. “But not bad.” Asami’s weight on her thighs is pleasant: the way it shifts as Asami kisses her again.
“So far, so good,” Asami says, sitting back up and looking down at Korra.
“Can we try them fixing them to the wall tomorrow?” Korra asks. She’d like to do it now, to chase that slight niggle of discomfort that she can already feel, to see how it mixes with the safe, warm feeling that Asami gives her – but Asami made her promise to take it one step at a time.
“Of course,” Asami says. “We should definitely test if they can take your weight that way.”
Korra smiles. “You designed them. They can take it.”
“We should test them anyway,” Asami says quietly, and runs a hand up Korra’s arm, up to her shoulder.
“Untie me?” Korra asks. “I’m better at kissing you with my hands free.”
Asami laughs. “Keep telling yourself that.” They maneuver around so Asami can reach Korra’s hands and untie the strap, dropping it on the bed. Korra looks at it, at how innocently it lies there. It still feels safe, but she’s aware of the menacing presence of a dangerous boundary further on, and how she will have to push beyond it.
She looks at Asami, lying on her side next to her, her dark hair spread out on the mattress. “That wasn’t too bad.”
“No,” Asami agrees. She looks relieved, and reaches out to touch Korra’s cheek. “Kiss me some more, will you?”
Korra smiles.