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The gears tick, and the clock hands edge to seven before the bell chimes. It’s a delicate, fragile sound that hangs in the air like perfume before it fades- nothing like the loud, brassy peals that Varrik’s contraptions employ. An invention of her own design, she wonders if it’s worth trying to put it out on the market. It wouldn’t be bad for Future Industries to try to expand, and rebrand itself.
She’s been awake and busying about the apartment since six, but there’s still something about the consistency of the alarm that puts her at ease.
Asami shuffles around the apartment, and her eyes glance over her makeshift desk. Into her bag goes a folder of forms, and she grabs the mess of letters from yesterday. She had meant to read them last night, but ended up collapsing as an exhausted tangle of limbs and wet hair after getting back from Air Temple Island. A quick scan to sort what should go with her- letters of interest from investors, trade partners, and those that she doesn’t need- menus from Fan’s dumplings, an advertisement for Cabbage Corp, and a letter postmarked from Republic City Prison.
The last one she doesn’t read- she knows the handwriting at a glance, and instead puts it in a drawer with several other letters.
A more direct transit system- that’s something she should pitch to the city council. Cars are efficient enough, but there’s no accounting for the flood of traffic and late-night pedestrians. Maybe a train line, then? She pauses, and adds the inked maps of Republic City’s streets and buildings into her full bag.
All that’s left- hair clip, eyeshadow, lipstick, and with her coat she’s out the door.
The faded yellow light moves between the painted numbers- nine, ten, eleven- and Asami thinks about Korra.
----
The ocean breeze carries the scent of salt, coal, and faintly, jasmine. The sun warms her skin, and she can see the orange robes of the acolytes as they draw closer to the island.
The sky is clear and dotted with a few clouds, and she wonders idly- do the airbenders make it that way? She’s never seen rainclouds over the island, but she wouldn’t know- prior to now, she’s never been a frequent visitor.
Now, she’s there every day.
The ferry billows white clouds of steam, and her heart sinks a little bit when she doesn’t see Korra there to greet her. But Pema is there waving, all warm smiles through sleep worn eyes with a basket of steam buns at hand.
----
Seeing Korra like this pulls at her heart, and Asami can almost feel the visceral urge to embrace her. To hug away the pain, to take it all away- something, anything.
What Asami is willing to admit- Korra has improved physically. The bruises on her face and body have faded, the cuts have closed, the fractures have started to heal, and so she tries to tell herself the worst of it is over.
Korra’s alive, and not on death’s door. That should be cause worth celebrating.
But seeing Korra like this- hair unbraided and a mess, dressed only in a tank top and sleepwear, with dark bags under her eyes is still jarring. This isn’t Korra, not one that she or Mako or Bolin knew- this Korra is subdued and despondent and listless. A shell of that hopeful and enthusiastic Water Tribe girl Asami met all those years ago. Changed, and reduced.
Asami can’t help but wonder how deep and how long the other wounds will take to heal.
But she carries on, and talks about her work with Future Industries as she pushes Korra around the courtyard because she doesn’t know how else to help.
----
Tenzin has been kind enough to provide a room next to Korra’s for her to work in. Furnished with a desk, phone, and a bed should she ever feel the need to stay the night, it has become her temporary office while she tries to steer Future Industries.
It also lets her be close to Korra, if anything should happen. Tonraq and Senna are usually there, busying themselves with their daughter’s health, or if they’re not- Pema. Jinora, Ikki and Meelo try to visit, but they’re often shooed away by the adults. Tenzin stops by as often as he can, but with the new airbenders, he runs in and out more often.
Mako and Bolin come as often as they can. Mako is busier, with Beifong putting him back on the force to clean up the chaos the Red Lotus had left in their wake. Bolin is the same as ever- enthusiastic, jovial, and always trying to cheer Korra up.
But Asami continues to visit, and stay, every day- for herself, or for Korra?
She’s not sure. Both of them, maybe.
----
Sometimes when Asami is working, she hears Korra start from her sleep with a groan or cry, and rushes over.
Korra never talks about the nightmares, but Asami can only guess what they’re about.
Korra isn’t awake- not fully. She’s tossing and turning, fists clenching around the sheets and her face contorting in pain as sweat beads on her forehead.
“Korra?” Asami sits down carefully by the bed. “It’s alright.”
All she can make out between the sobs and quiet gasps is a litany of repeated no no no.
Asami isn’t sure what to do, how to comfort someone in their dreams. So she does what her mother did- she climbs into bed, and wraps her arms around Korra and cradles her, and whispers “It’s okay. I’m here, Korra. I’m here.”
Asami holds her till the quaking stops, and she can feel the rise and fall of Korra’s breaths match hers. As her shirt grows wet from tears, Asami wishes- yearns- that she knew how to help.
But she can’t, and the thought terrifies her.
That is the first night she spends with Korra, and not the last.
----
Korra’s hair feels thick beneath her fingers, and Asami untangles the knots. Rubs in scented oolong gel, and rinses it out in succession. Korra’s lying flat in the tub, eyes closed, dark hair splayed around her head like kelp in the hot water.
Asami works carefully and methodically, working her way from the tips to the roots. When Asami reaches the scalp, she pushes her fingers- gently- in small half-moons to massage away the tension there.
Beneath her, Korra sighs, and for a moment it looks as though she lets go. No worry or pain or sadness, just tired exhaustion, and almost, peace.
These are the moments that Asami treasures in the days after the return to Republic City- not because of the physical closeness, or Korra’s naked form, or the intimacy.
No. Because here, now, it feels as if Korra is Korra again. Not the Avatar, not a hero, not a victim, but Korra- loud, boisterous, kind, compassionate, and full of life. Healing. Whole.
But then she begins to wash Korra’s body, and each time the moment passes when she sees the physical reality of the situation. It seemed strange at first when Senna asked her to help bathe Korra, and Asami was taken aback by the frankness of the request. But after seeing Korra’s downcast and listless expression, she agreed. Under any other conditions, Asami might’ve blushed and averted her gaze, but seeing Korra like this- all Asami can feel is a desperate want to help.
The first time was with Senna- Asami just helped rinse Korra with water, fetched the soap and oils, and helped towel Korra off. Korra hadn’t even protested- just nodded and gave a weak okay. Sometimes, Pema or Senna helps, but today it’s just her and Korra.
Asami makes sure to be chaste and deferent with her ministrations, but Korra never protests or speaks much during these sessions.
The dejected silence is somehow worse, knowing Korra.
Asami lathers the washcloth with soap, and starts by washing Korra’s hands. There’s a timeline of conflict to be read in Korra’s body, across the hard lines of muscle. A network of faded and newer scar tissue in a litany of all that Korra’s been through, and survived. Along her wrists and ankles, the skin is chaffed from the restraints. Asami can almost see the indentations from the chains, still. Trailing across her left collarbone to beneath her right breast, a pale thin line- a reminder from Aiwei’s escape from Zaofu. On the corner of her hip alongside her abdomen- a faint floral bloom by a Triple Threat Triad firebender. On her back- a crisscross smaller lines and starbursts between her shoulder blades and in the shadow of spine, memories of each and every fall. But lower, on her thighs and calves- nothing.
Nothing visible, at least.
Asami isn’t a doctor- she’s left that to the healers like Katara. But what she is- an engineer, and in a way, the human body is also a construction. Application of force, tension, and balance give rise to motion, just like any of the Satomobiles. But like any of her inventions, Asami knows that no matter how strong the foundations, there’s only so much stress the material can take before it fractures. Even if Korra’s one of the strongest people she’s met, and the Avatar- the human body has limits.
As Asami starts to feel her hands prune from the water, she hears Korra speak. “Asami?”
“I’m here,” She looks up and meets Korra’s gaze, searching for something. “Is anything wrong?”
“No,” Korra sighs, and pushes herself up out of the tub. “Just- thank you.”
The warm glow bubbling up in Asami’s chest feels wrong, somehow.
Afterwards, she wraps Korra in a warm towel and dries her off, and carefully dresses her.
She just needs time, Asami tells herself. But looking at Korra’s face, Asami wonders if time is enough.
----
In a fit of productivity and a drive to try something, anything, Asami begins to sketch the design of modifications she can make to the wheelchair.
It’d have to made of something lightweight, but durable- aluminum? It’d need to be able to handle the stress and pressure of a human body, and act as a support system- but not a replacement. Interlocking gears to mimic the knees, then? And something to slot into the wheelchair, but not strong enough that Korra couldn’t get out herself- magnets, then.
Later that night in her workshop, she’s got a jumble of metal and leather that is functional. Not pretty or as refined as she’d like, and she might need to shave down the metal for a better fit. She tries to bend it experimentally- it creaks, and has a little too much resistance for her liking, but a good start.
It feels good to make something again, even as the lump in her throat grows and for some reason, she feels tears prickle at the edge of her eyes.
Asami tells herself this is temporary, and that these will help Korra support herself till one day, she can move on her own again.
----
“Come on, try some wonton soup- fresh from pot!” Pema busies herself with setting out the bowls and spoons, and without asking puts a set out for Asami as well.
Pema’s always been considerate- motherly, almost. Asami had always chalked it up to a strong maternal instinct with four children. Korra nods quietly, “Thanks for everything, Pema.”
Pema smiles, lays out some cabbage buns, and excuses herself from the room.
Asami glances over at Korra- she’s still not touched the soup in front of her, and Asami isn’t sure if she will. Korra’s lost weight- more than from her injuries, or the lack of exercise. Korra’s not eating much these days- it’d be a miracle if Korra ate at least three meals.
This is something Asami understands- in the days and weeks after the betrayal by her father, she couldn’t eat. The body, it seemed, wanted to subsist on grief alone.
So Asami does the best she can, and tries to encourage Korra to eat by her own enthusiasm. “Pema’s cooking is really the best, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah,” Korra looks at the soup in front of her, and gives a weak nod. “The best.”
Korra doesn’t take a sip of the soup, still.
----
The day of the Jinora’s ceremony, Asami helps Korra dress into the ceremonial garb.
Asami isn’t sure why Korra asked for her to help- Senna would’ve been the expected choice. But Asami doesn’t question it.
If it could help Korra, even by the slightest amount, then she would take it.
Asami’s exposure to Southern Water Tribe garb is relatively limited to what she’s seen Korra wear, so she tries her best. The traditional braids for Korra’s hair- something Korra taught her on their travels aboard the airship. She slips on the armbands, noticing not for the first time how much thinner Korra seems. Weaker- but she stops the train of thought before the worry can grow.
The gown goes on last- it’s a beautiful piece, made of silk and wool. Heavy and warm, made for the frigid temperatures of the south. Asami still remembers the first time she saw Korra in it, all those years ago at the gala by Tarrlok. Back when they were young, and before any of them knew better.
Before this.
Asami pulls the gown over Korra, and laces the back of the gown. Korra is silent throughout the process.
Only when Asami finishes up with the last hairpin in her bun, and hold the mirror for her does Korra respond.
“It’s great, thanks.” There’s a weak smile, but it doesn’t seem to reach her eyes.
When Asami clasps her hands in hers, and tells Korra that she’ll be there for whatever she needs, Asami wonders if her words reach Korra.
Please let me in and let me help is what Asami means to say.
But she doesn’t know how to bridge that gap. Doesn’t know if she can.
----
Two weeks later, Asami is there when Korra relents to go to the Southern Water tribe. The source isn’t her parents, as Asami would’ve expected. It’s from Kya.
“Korra,” Kya sighs, and sits back from the pool as the green glow of the water fades. “I’ll be honest- I’ve done all that I can do.”
“Wha- what do you mean?” The raw hurt, disappointment and anger in Korra’s voice- it feels like a knife twisting in Asami’s gut. “I’m not going to get any better?”
“No, I didn’t say that.” The older woman sits up, and Asami hands her the crutch she still uses these days to get around. “I’m just not as good as my mother.”
Asami can feel the hanging suggestion in the room, “So she needs to see Katara?”
Kya nods, and leans against the wall. “If anyone can help, it’s my mother. I’m a decent healer, and you’re past the worst of it, but…”
Kya doesn’t need to finish the sentence. It’s the verdict that Asami already knew in the back of her mind, that they all knew. Korra’s hit a wall.
Korra is silent, and stares down at the water. Asami isn’t sure if the silence is better, or worse.
"Remember Korra- this is your choice, so you have to do what feels right for you.”
Asami doesn’t know why, but Kya’s words cause a thread of worry to coil in her gut.
Later that day, Asami takes Korra outside at dusk to the pavilion. Someone- maybe Pema, or Tenzin- has set out a pot of freshly brewed tea and two cups. Rose petal tea today, judging by the delicate, wafting scent.
This has become a ritual for them over past weeks- Asami will wheel Korra to western side of the island, and they’ll sit in the pavilions to watch the sun set to the west. Korra’s not one for much conversation still, so sometimes Asami fills the silence. Asami talks about her work, the daily irritations, hurdles, and hassles of the day, or the small successes and progressions they’ve made in rebuilding the city. Other times, Asami will just sit with Korra, encouraging her to drink some tea as they watch the sunset.
Today, the sky is painted with deepening shades of red and purple, while the bay waters reflect dusky shades of blue. To the east, against the backdrop of the distant mountains and darkening sky- the glimmering skyline of Republic City. Asami watches as the lights blink into existence, one after another till the skyscrapers and girders are lit up as a single monument to human progress and ingenuity.
It’s beautiful, and reminds her of how much can be achieved. But then Asami looks down at Korra, and her heart twists and all Asami wants is to know how to help. She does the only thing she can think to do, and pours them both some tea.
Eventually, Korra takes the cup in her hands, and stares at it for a moment. “I need to go back home.”
Home- not the room on the Air Temple. Home- to the south. “Of course. Katara’s there, and she’ll help you get on your feet in no time.”
Korra nods, but keeps staring at the tea cup in her hands. “Yeah.”
Asami bites on her cheek, and decides to ask the question on her mind. “Do you want me to come with you? I can manage Future Industries from the south, and it might be good to get a change of scenery also.”
“No, it’s fine. It’ll only be a couple of weeks, and I think I need some time alone.”
“Of course,” Asami says, and tries not to focus on the last word- alone. For some reason, the word resonates in her mind. “I’ll miss you, and you know if you need anything, you just need to ask.”
“Thanks.” Korra gives a weak smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll miss you, but this is something I need to do on my own.”
“Are you sure?” Asami kneels down by the chair, but Korra still won’t look her in the eye.
“Yeah. This feels like the right choice for me.”
----
Saying goodbye to Korra on the docks- it feels more final than it should. Asami chides herself- it’s only a few weeks. Korra would be back before soon, and back to normal. Back to being Korra.
Korra would be better. Will be.
But saying goodbye throbs, and Asami knows why. She’s never been the one to say goodbye- she’s the one who’s left behind.
----
Dear Korra,
I miss you. It’s not the same in Republic City without you. How are you feeling?
Things are going well here- I just got a big contract to redesign the city’s infrastructure, so I’ll be keeping pretty busy for a while.
Love Hope you’re well, Asami
----
She should’ve guessed, but somehow Bolin being gone makes for a larger hole in her life than she’d have thought. Bolin was always louder than life, and somehow him being gone magnifies the silence. No more impromptu Pai Sho games at the tea house, no more surprise visits from Bolin and Opal and Pabu, and Mako’s been more absent now as well.
Asami visits the old Sato mansion on a whim one day. It’s still as huge and empty and clean as she remembered it, but walking down those quiet halls, Asami never felt quiet as alone.
----
Dear Korra,
How are you doing? It’s been a month, but I hope you’re recovering well. Bolin’s gone now, so it’s just me and Mako in the city- not like that, though. You wouldn’t believe how much quieter it since Bolin left with Varrik, and Mako- you know Mako. He’s all tied up in his police work.
I miss you still, and hope you’ll be back soon. Work’s been busy, and I’ve got some great plans to pitch to President Raiko for helping traffic and shipping!
Hope to see you soon, Asami
----
“She’s strong, Asami.”
“I know,” Asami stirs at the bok choi in her ramen bowl, and she can hear the chef slicing the noodles behind her. “It’s just been two months now, and we haven’t heard anything.”
Does she sound bitter? She hopes not- Asami doesn’t want to be. She still remembers the old story her mother would tell her about how anger and bitterness would make you shrivel up like a dried moon peach.
Asami tries not to be bitter or angry. But she can’t help the tide of resentment, the wish to know what’s going on.
If Mako notices, he doesn’t let on. He wolfs down another mouthful of noodles with his chopsticks, and shrugs. “It’s like Bolin says- she’s the Avatar. She beat Zaheer, Amon, and saved the world. If anyone can come back from that, she can. It’s Korra we’re talking about.”
“Do you believe that?” Asami isn’t sure what she wants to hear, but something- anything- to offset the doubt settling in her stomach would be welcome.
There’s an uncharacteristic pause, and Mako shifts his gaze. “Course- she’ll get through it, and be back before we know it.”
Even when they dated and over the long years of their friendship, Mako’s always been a terrible liar.
----
Dear Korra,
How’s it going down there? The last two months have flown by, we’re slowly trying to rebuild the city. The spirit vines and spirits look like they’re here to stay, and so I’ve been tasked with trying to redesign City Hall to incorporate the trees growing in it. I wish you could see it- the sketches I had to submit were pretty weird!
It’s still pretty quiet here without you- Mako’s gone undercover now, so you’ll have to ask him about how he managed to convince the Red Monsoons he’s a washed up probender. Bolin is still helping Kuvira and Varrik stabilize the Earth Kingdom, and Tenzin is busy as ever. I think he’s starting to get worried about Kai and Jinora running off one day.
Hope your recovery is going well, Asami
----
There’s a certain relief in having work to do. Having a schedule, a routine, and putting her energy towards projects. It’s a welcome distraction from her own thoughts, and prevents herself from thinking too much about Korra’s absence. There are always people demanding her attention, from sunrise to sunset, drowning out the silence in her mind.
In a way, Asami comes to enjoy it- it gives her something to do with her hands, lets her make tangible effects. A new schematic for the dock expansions, inked out on blue paper- an overlay of the streets, electrical lines, and water supplies. New foundations, and next to them is a neat list of all the materials they’d need to move forward. Sketches of where they can fit in more ships, calculations of how much more shipping traffic can be taken in.
It feels good to make something, and to be useful.
More importantly, and with some shame, she doesn’t think of Korra as much.
Asami wonders- is this why Mako put himself entirely in his work?
She can’t blame him- not anymore.
----
“Asami’s here!”
Asami has a fraction of a second to prepare herself before Ikki and Meelo are hugging her in a flash of orange and yellow. They’ve gotten bigger, but at least they don’t try to jump on her like they used to. “Hey, kids.”
“Is Korra back yet?” Meelo asks, and Asami can’t help the way her throat constricts.
“No,” she clears her throat and admits, “I was hoping to ask your father about that, actually.”
The kids look crestfallen at the news, but then Pema is running down the temple stairs with Rohan in her arms, yelling. “Ikki! Meelo! Where- oh, hello Asami!”
“Hi, Pema,” she smiles- Pema always had gone out of her way to make Asami feel welcome. She looks around, and counts one missing. “Is Jinora out?”
“Nah,” Ikki says, and leans in to give a loud whisper, “She’s off with Kai. Picking flowers.”
Asami raises an eyebrow, and gives a look of mock shock. “Really now?”
Meelo and Ikki nod enthusiastically, and then Pema is there hugging her. “What brings you here today, Asami? How’s your company doing? Are you eating well?”
Asami can’t help but smile at Pema’s display of motherly concern. “The company’s doing fine, and thank you so much for the sesame balls- they were delicious!”
Pema beams at her, and herds Meelo and Ikki back to the temple. “I’ll make sure to prepare some more to send off with you before you leave. You’ve got to make sure you eat a proper meal and don’t be like Tenzin and work all the time! But come on- we’re just about to have lunch, and we can chat after the kids are off training the new airbenders!”
Lunch, as always, is delicious. Cabbage steam buns, fried dumplings, radish cakes, and some sort of pleasantly sweet, floral drink that Tenzin tries to explain to her. Some story about an extract of cactus juice that Sokka had inadvertently found?
After the kids have been sent off to busy themselves with the other new airbenders, she sits at the table with Tenzin and Pema sipping her tea. Tenzin looks older- expected, she knows, but there’s more furrows in his brow, and his eyes have dark shadows under them. She knows some of what’s going on from what Mako relays to her via Bolin- the Earth Kingdom is in chaos, as Zaheer had wanted. Progress is slow, especially with Korra out of commission.
But that’s not why she’s here. So, she broaches the subject carefully, “Have you heard any news about Korra, Tenzin?”
What she means- it’s been almost six months, and Asami hasn’t heard anything.
Tenzin answers with slow deliberation, “Korra…is recovering. My mother has been working with her, but she’s told me that this might be longer than any of us can guess, and all we can do is be patient.”
The words feel like a physical blow to Asami. Her discomfort must be apparent, because then Pema’s there by her side with a hand on her shoulder. “Asami, Korra’s going to be fine. We have to trust Korra.”
“I know, I know. It’s just that,“ Asami sighs, and wishes the tea leaves could tell her the future. “I wish we had a timeline or something.”
Tenzin looks at her with sympathy, “Just remember to take care of yourself as well, Asami.”
----
Her father keeps writing to her. Almost as if by clockwork now- once a month, Asami receives another notarized letter from the Republic City Prison.
She hasn’t received any phone calls from him, yet- she doesn’t know if he’s even allowed phone calls. She wonders idly if they let him write his own letters, or if they read them before sending them. She wouldn’t blame them.
Each letter she gets, Asami adds to the growing pile in the drawer. She doesn’t open any of them, and she’s not sure if she ever will.
But looking at them, she’s struck by the number of letters she’s received, and more painfully- the lack of letters from Korra.
----
Dear Korra,
I have some exciting news! I know I’ve been slow on writing you letters, but the last nine months have been amazing! I’ve managed to do so much work on redesigning the power grid system, so we can now get electricity to all the boroughs in the city! Even with the Spirit Wilds, we’ve managed to incorporate new roads and buildings to work around them.
Also, I think I’ve managed to convince President Raiko on a big project- it’ll be a great surprise for you!
Look forward to hearing back from you, Asami
----
Asami doesn’t know what possess her, but one day she finds herself walking to the police department and asking to talk to Chief Beifong. Insight, or advice? She’s not sure.
But here she is, sitting across the desk from the older woman, and trying to explain her position as best she can. “I just want to help, but I don’t know how to.”
Lin sighs, and unfolds her arms. It feels like a strangely considerate gesture. “I know what you’re getting at, kid.”
“You do?” Asami can’t help but keep the tremor of excitement out of her voice.
Lin might’ve picked up on it, because she just shakes her head. “You’re not gonna like my answer, though.”
“Oh.” Try as she might, she can’t keep the disappointment from her face.
“I’ve seen a lot of cops like that- good men and women who’ve lost people. Cops who’ve come close to dying, or losing something.” Lin pauses, and for a moment Asami is afraid that she pushed too far, dredged up memories too painful to bear. But then the chief continues, her eyes locked onto something beyond Asami, beyond the walls of the office. “When you go through something like that, you’re not the same. You know what I mean.”
“I do.” A quiet acquiescence. She remembers her father’s betrayal, and the sleepless nights after.
“There’s life before, and life after. You can’t go back. No matter what changes, no matter what happens- you’re not the same.”
“So, what do- what can I do?” It comes out almost like a plea.
Lin gives a long sigh, and leans back into her chair. “I’ll be honest- nothing. I know you want to, and spirits know I want too as well. But none of us can help her. You can’t help her. I can’t help her. This isn’t something that anyone can help with. Best we can do is be there if she needs us, but that’s all. This is something she has to do on her own.”
Asami hears the wisdom and truth in the words, but for some reason, it feels like they reopen more wounds.
----
Dear Korra,
It’s been about a year, and a lot’s changed. There’s apparently a new prince for the Earth Kingdom, and I’ve started to help Tenzin design new suits for the airbenders! It’s been an interesting project to try to mix in the glider design to the suits, but I think I can get it to work!
President Raiko officially approved of renaming Republic City Park after you- it’s now Avatar Korra Park! They’ve asked me to help design a statue for you- don’t worry, I’ll try not to make it too gaudy or ridiculous.
Best wishes, Asami
----
The words keep echoing in her mind as Asami lays down in bed, and tries to find some solace in sleep.
She needs to trust Korra. Korra needs space. This will take time. There’s nothing she can do. She needs to take care of herself. She needs to give herself space.
But the suddenness of the loss- it feels like something’s missing her life, some cog or gear wrenched out of a machine and all that’s left is a hollow husk of something that can only pantomime through jerky, halted motions.
There was so much they had shared- on the airship through the Earth Kingdom, she’d sit with Korra and they’d talk about their pasts. Korra’s training with the White Lotus, her first arrival in Republic City, and the responsibilities of the Avatar. Asami tells Korra of Future Industries, the development of the Satomobile, and sometimes, of her mother.
Sometimes, they sat in the bunk beds and talked in the long reach of night when everyone else was asleep. Longer, quieter conversations of all the things that weighed them down. They talked of loss- for Korra, the loss of her bending to Amon, and then the loss of the Avatars before her. For Asami- the loss of her mother first, and then the betrayal of her father.
But now- silence. Silence made worse by the fact that she knows this is the right choice for Korra, that Korra needs space, and Asami should trust that. But it feels like speaking to a void. She doesn’t know if Korra will ever see the letters, or if Korra even cares to see them.
It feels like she doesn’t know who Korra is, anymore.
It feels like she’s talking to a stranger.
But worse- a stranger she once knew, trusted, and loved.
----
The park is beautiful as ever, clamoring with reporters and visitors and the delighted screams of children. The trees and grass paint the landscape a vibrant green, and in the pond, she can hear the turtle ducks squawking to be fed. To the side, she can see a group of elderly men and women practicing tai chi on the grass, their limbs in sync as they circle through the motions.
President Raiko is at the podium, giving a long-winded speech about how even with the chaos of the Red Lotus, it served to unify the city further. He’s careful to avoid broaching the Earth Kingdom, Asami notes- she doesn’t blame him.
“Miss Sato, will you do the honors?” One of the aides hands her a ceremonially large pair of scissors.
She smiles, and in one clean motion cuts the ribbon tying the canvas over the statue. The cloth falls to either side of the statue, and there it is- Korra’s likeness in sculpted stone, proud and strong staring off into the distance.
The gathered crowd cheers and applauds as she does this, and in the masses Asami sees two men smile at each other and kiss, and for a moment she wishes nothing more than to have Korra back.
----
Dear Korra,
It’s been a year and a half- do you still remember the old Central City Station? Well, Raiko asked me to try to design a new modern rail line to replace it so people can get around the city easier. We’ve also got some plans to try to link it up so we have a direct line from Republic City to Ba Sing Se- isn’t that amazing? All roads lead to Ba Sing Se, and now all trains might lead there too!
Let me know how you’re doing- I hope that you’re alright and everything!
Best, Asami
----
Late at night and alone in her apartment, Asami wonders- did Korra know?
It’s a selfish, painful thought. She knows that, and tries to chide herself for thinking it. Korra has more things on her plate, and needs to focus healing. She needs to trust Korra.
But the thought grows back at the base of her spine, and she can’t help but wonder- what if Korra never knows? Would it be better that way? Would Korra even feel the same?
Asami tries not to cry, because it isn’t right and it’s selfish, but she feels the weight behind her eyes, so she relents and sobs into her pillow.
It isn’t fair, she wants to say, but she doesn’t know to who- Korra? Herself?
----
One day, out of a sense of loneliness or desperation, she picks up the phone and calls the police station. The microphone rings once, twice, before an officer answers. It’s late at night, and Asami isn’t even sure if this is a good idea yet.
But there’s a tinny human voice on the other end asking for her to state her business, so she clamps down and asks for Mako. She’s not even sure he’d be working this late, but she’s got a hunch.
There’s a moment of silence, and then, “Detective Mako speaking. What’s the matter?”
“Mako?” Asami can almost hear the look of surprise on his face. “It’s Asami. Do you have time to grab some tea?”
An hour later, she sits at Apo’s Family Teahouse across from Mako with a pot of jasmine green tea between them. He looks more worn, and tired- she wonders if he’s sleeping at the office again. Not lesser, but different from the Mako she knew. She wonders how she might look to him with her new hair.
She wonders what Korra looks like, or what Korra might think of them both.
“I don’t know, Mako,” Asami blows on the tea and watches the leaves swirl in the green water. “I’m just…wondering how long this keeps up for.”
What she means to say- have you given up?
“She just needs time and space.” That’s what he says, but she can read the uncertainty and doubt and worry in his clasped hands and furrow brow. For someone who isn’t good about being touch with his emotions, Mako’s always been good at expressing them with his body. “It’s just…”
“A year and a half.” Asami knows where he’s going with this.
The silence stretches out, punctuated by the clatter of tires on the road and the chatter of the other patrons. “Yeah.”
“Did you try writing to her?”
“I try. I’m not the best, so I end only sending them once every few months.” He grimaces, shifting in his seat. “I’m not sure she’s that interested in hearing about the details of my case work.”
Mako doesn’t need to say, but Asami knows what it means- I’m not sure if it’s helping or not.
That’d make two of them, then. Except Asami can echo an additional thought- I’m not sure if I should keep trying.
“You still writing to her?”
“Just…a couple letters here and there.” It isn’t a lie, she tells herself. She has no reason to lie to Mako. But it isn’t the entire truth, either. “I don’t know why I keep sending them either.”
“I guess- trying to keep the team together?” Mako shrugs, and Asami can’t help but feel a stab of guilt as his shoulder slope down. “Don’t blame yourself- Bolin left first, and you and I, well.“
He gestures to the space between them, and Asami knows what he means to say- Korra was as much a bridge between spirits and humans as between all of them. “Do you think it’ll be the same when she comes back?”
“Course I do- it’ll be like the old Korra all over again.”
“Do you believe that?” It sounds a little too sharp, too much like an accusation.
Mako hunches over his tea- not scowling, but pensive. Stares into the tea cup as if the answer could be found in the leaves. “Sometimes, I don’t know anymore. But we’re friends, so we stick together, right?”
Friends. Is that what she and Korra are?
The silence a year and a half stretch out before her, and she can’t help but wonder if she’s in the wrong to keep trying to build something. Bridges are two-way constructions- she can’t cross that gap alone.
As she leaves the tea house and Mako offers to walk her back the apartment, Asami can’t help but wonder- why is she trying still?
----
There are many letters that Asami writes but that she doesn’t send. They’re meant for Korra, but she writes them for herself.
Dear Korra, I miss you.
Dear Korra, I hope you’re okay.
Korra, let me know how you’re doing. Please be okay.
Korra, please write back- it’d mean a lot to me to hear from you.
Korra, I need you but I know you’re healing but I miss you so much.
Korra, I need you to know that I want you back.
Korra, I don’t know how move past this.
Korra, I don’t want to lose you.
Korra, I miss you.
I love you.
The stack of letters grows as weeks turn to months and into years. She keeps them tucked away in a wooden box decorated in the traditional designs of the Southern Water Tribe she found at the market.
Asami doesn’t reread them after she’s written them. She’s not sure if she has the strength to.
----
Dear Korra,
I heard from Tenzin the other day- he said you’ve recovered a lot in the past two years, and that you’ve made a lot of progress! That’s great news! Even if you’re not 100% yet, any progress is better than none and I can’t imagine how much you’ve been through- if you need anything at all, just let me know and I’ll see what I can do.
Hope to see you soon, Asami
----
Asami walks out into the street- it’s raining today, a constant and slow drizzle. The raindrops patter against the roofs of cars and the buildings in hollow peals, and mixes with the rush of the traffic and the crowds. She forgot her umbrella, but it isn’t a long walk back to the apartment, so she decides to brave the rain.
It’s refreshing, to walk in the rain and feel the water pelt her skin.
But then she passes by a boutique of wedding apparel, and she can’t stop herself from stopping beneath the hanging. Just a moment to dry off, she tells herself, but that’s a lie.
They’re constructions of white silk and fabric, with shades of blue cloth fitted in. A lovely piece of fashion, even by her standards.
Unbidden, a single question echoes through her mind- why did you leave me behind?
----
“So, Shan- what’s your probending team?”
Shan is barely an acquaintance, let alone a friend. The only reason why Asami met her is that she’s one of the models they used for the ad for Future Industries to help promote women in the engineering corps.
But what Shan is- pretty, dark haired, green-eyed, and very much here and alive in front of her.
So here Asami is Narook’s, having a bowl of seaweed noodles on a date with someone she barely knows.
“Right now, I’d have to say the Rhino Lions! But my all-time favorites would still be the Fire Ferrets back in the day- Bolin, Mako and Avatar Korra!”
Shan probably doesn’t know better- couldn’t know better. But the mention of Korra, and Asami can’t stop comparing the woman in front of her to Korra.
Later that night, back in her apartment by herself, Asami ventures onto the balcony and stares down at the golden outline of the city.
Asami tells herself that she tried, but Shan- as pleasant, funny, and witty as she was- is not Korra.
She knows that it’s not fair to compare the living to a ghost, a memory, but she doesn’t know what else to do. “Korra, how do I move on?”
There’s no response. Of course- there’s no one there- Korra is more than half a world away, and Asami isn’t sure if Korra would even want to talk to her anymore.
She closes her eyes and feels the tears well up. It feels like Korra is slipping away from her, and the gap between them widens more with the gulf of time.
The worst part- knowing there’s nothing she can do.
Asami doesn’t know how to do this.
----
The problem with grief, Asami realizes as she cries into her pillow, is that it isn’t linear. It doesn’t follow any lines or forms or formulas. There’s no roadmap or schematic she can draw of it.
She had thought she knew grief- how to grieve, and how to move past it. She’s grieved twice before- first her mother, and then her father.
But somehow, this feels different- all consuming, too large, and wrapped more deeply around her. It feels like someone had uprooted something vital in her life, for some reason the knowledge that Korra is still alive makes the hurt worse.
The parallels aren’t lost on her- both Korra and her father are alive, but out of reach.
----
One long, exhausted night after she gets home, Asami sees the blue wooden box of letters she keeps on her desk.
It taunts her- there are all her worries and hopes and dreams that she couldn’t say- because why? Fear? Kindness? Love?
Asami screams in frustrations, pulls the letters out, and throws them into the fireplace. She doesn’t know why, but as she watches the flames climb over her neat script, she feels a savage satisfaction.
The next morning, she wakes up and all that she has is the ashes of the letters she never sent.
Asami sits down, cradling the gray ash and broken parchment and quietly, she cries.
----
Asami congratulates the team, and there’s cheers as champagne bottles shower the room with white foam. It’s been a long year, but the new monorail is finally ready to be deployed for use in the city.
The railway through the Earth Kingdom- that’s a different matter. But also, out of her hands.
As Asami moves through the crowd and nods and smiles, she wonders- is this what closure looks like? The finishing touch of a project? The final rivet set, the last gear fitted in as the engine roars to life?
Or is it a mirage that she’s chasing, as real as her expectations for Korra?
Asami doesn’t want to be bitter. She doesn’t. But the long silence makes it hard.
----
One day, Asami gets a letter from Korra.
Asami doesn’t open it- not immediately. She sits down at her desk, and stares at it and half expects it to vanish like smoke.
Carefully, she peels the envelope open, and reads. The words leap off the page into her mind, and she can even hear them in Korra’s voice- sorry, the hardest in my life, worry that I’ll never fully recover.
Asami can’t help herself, and starts crying.
That night, she cries into her pillow again as the questions race through her mind.
Why? What happened? What’s going on? Why did you send that letter?
Why didn’t you say anything?
----
(It takes her ten days to draft a reply to Korra)
Dear Korra,
It’s so good to hear back from you- don’t worry about not replying. I understand what you mean- progress can time, and it’s frustrating when you feel like you’ve hit a wall. Take as much time as you need for yourself, and I know that it’s hard but don’t lose hope- you’re one of the strongest, most capable people I’ve met, and I mean that.
If anyone can get past this, you can. Just one day at a time, okay?
Hope you’re well, Asami
----
Asami tries to understand Korra’s position, as best that she can. Tells herself, she can’t imagine what Korra has- is- going through. Repeats to herself, that she needs to trust in Korra’s choice.
She needs to trust Korra.
This is the right choice for Korra.
But a doubt in her brain- if this is the right choice, then why does it hurt so much?
----
“How do you trust people, Tenzin?”
Tenzin is startled by the question, and looks at her with surprise on his face. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean, Miss Sa- er, Asami.”
She smiles- even after all these years, Tenzin is unfailingly polite. “I mean, the only person you can ever know is yourself, right? You can’t really ever know other people, or what they’re thinking, can you?”
“Well,” Tenzin scratches his beard, and seems thoughtful. “There are some claims that the older, more revered spirits like Koh can read the minds of humans. But for humans, I suppose not. Even the bloodbenders could only control the body’s motion, not read thoughts.”
Asami can’t help but smile. Trust Tenzin to wax poetic about the spiritual nature of a question. “I meant more literally- the only person you can ever know, is yourself. Even your friends and family might as well be strangers.”
Thankfully, Tenzin seems to think she’s talking of her father. “Ah, that.”
“I just figured,” Asami shifts in her seat, uncomfortable as Tenzin looks at her. “The air nomads aim to foster trust and understanding- so how do you do it?”
“Understanding is our job. Even if we can’t ever truly understand each other, we’re all still connected. Everything in this world is connected, and all that we need to do sometimes is to make an effort to communicate.”
“Even if we may not ever truly know each other, we can- and should- still make the effort to connect and build understanding. Remember that, Asami.”
----
Closure, Asami eventually decides, is something that isn’t real. Not just in a physical, tangible sense- loss is loss. Loss and endings can’t be measured, can’t be mapped out.
But Asami wonders- if she can’t find closure, then maybe she can find acceptance. Peace, or something like it with what’s happened.
She stares at the stack of letters from Republic City Prison, and decides then to try to make peace the best she can. Maybe not Korra, but someone else.
The phone rings several times before someone answers. “Republic City Prison, Officer Tai. Please state your business.”
Asami clears her throat, and asks “Is it possible for me to contact a prisoner there?”
----
Asami repeats to herself a litany- Korra needs space and time, and she trusts Korra.
But what the words do not, cannot do- fill in the rent space and gaping hole Korra left in her wake, and the raw hurt that Asami has carried for the last two years.
Briefly, she wonders- would Korra even care anymore?
She knows it’s unfair to think like that, but she can’t help herself.
----
Dear Korra,
I don’t know how to write this, and I don’t want to write this letter. But I feel like I just need to say that I know that you’re having a hard time, and I want you to know that I’ll be there to help if you need anything.
But right now, I don’t know if I can be there anymore. I need to learn to move on with my life first.
Asami
(She never sends the letter- can’t bring herself to. Instead, she holds it to the candle flame and watches as the paper crumbles and the words turn to ash)
----
After, Asami stops sending letters. She keeps writing them- but she doesn’t send them anymore. She doesn’t know why- because this is the one choice she has?
They go into a neat stack in the old wooden box that she used to keep the other letters in- the ones she meant for herself. In a way, she supposes, these are also for herself- one last fruitless gesture- of what?
Of habit, of affection, of friendship? Of love?
----
Asami tries to rebuild as best she can.
It’s a difficult process- Korra, Mako, and Bolin had dominated her life in more ways than one. They were inseparable for the long years between- even when they were apart, one of them was always around. There’d always been a sense that they’d come back together no matter what.
But now- Bolin has been absent for over two years, Mako is on bodyguard duty in the Earth Kingdom, and Korra.
But Asami tries to heed Tenzin’s advice from all those years past, and take care of herself. She pours her energy into the company, negotiates new deals with Cabbage Corp, and ensures that there’s a prosperous future for Future Industries and her employees.
But for some reason, it feels empty.
----
“Asami, darling! Over here!”
Asami looks around, and sees Mitsuha waving from the bar, dressed in a brown and green gown that reminds Asami of the ocean. The researcher gives her a quick hug, and a daring kiss on her cheek- Asami can feel her face heat up in a blush.
“I’m glad that you could find time to see me today.” Mitsuha hands Asami a glass of lychee juice, her accent drawing out the syllables. “I was almost worried you’d stood me up.”
Asami laughs nervously, “Of course not. You know how it is.”
“Oh, tell me about it,” The other lady rolls her eyes, and briefly Asami is struck how in the light, the look as blue as Korra’s. “Don’t get me wrong- working for Meher is so much better than working Cabbage Corp, but it’s such a drag. All those pompous suits up and down all day about deadlines. No offense to present, pretty company.”
Asami flushes at the compliment, and tries to not focus much on the green lipstick Mitsuha is wearing. “None taken- the board of directors is all men, and trying to deal with Raiko?”
“Dreadful, I can only imagine.” Mitsuha leans in, and her breath is warm in Asami’s ear, “Politicians, right?”
Asami becomes distinctly aware then of how beautiful Mitsuha looks, how her leg presses against Asami’s, and the warmth of her hand.
So, she decides to take a leap. “Do you want to continue this talk somewhere else?”
----
Asami wakes before Mitsuha- the bed is small for two bodies, but warm from their body heat. She carefully slides out of bed, dons a robe, and goes to make some tea for the both of them.
Sipping the tea, she looks back at her bed and wonders- is this moving on?
Perhaps then, this is progress. No longer held by the ghosts of the past- this is real, and present. But still, she feels a sting of pain and hurt, and underneath- guilt.
Mitsuha asks Asami to keep in touch, and Asami agrees.
That night, she doesn’t write a letter to Korra.
----
In the following days, Asami doesn’t contact Mitsuha. She feels a pang of guilt- ironic, that she’s done the same to someone else.
Yet, in the days and weeks and months after- she doesn’t write anymore letters to Korra.
----
When Asami sees Korra for the first time after all those years, all the hurt and anger and questions she thought she moved past come bubbling to the surface in an instant, and Asami has to stop herself from blurting out why didn’t you tell me why didn’t you write back what happened?
It’s not her place. She’s not sure if it was her place before, or ever was. Maybe it’ll never be her place- not anymore, after all these long years. Maybe it’s been too long, and the gap between them is too large and even she’s not sure if she can build a bridge anymore.
Maybe she doesn’t want to.
But then Korra smiles at her- it’s different, tinged with regret and age but still bright and radiant- and Asami feels the knife in her chest twist and ache all over again.
Time, it seems, does heal in a fashion.
Time builds around the gaps and holes left in life. It raises buildings, bridges and roads around the absence till it is out of sight and hidden behind new construction.
Time widens and expands the world to make the ache seem smaller, adds in more distractions to pull attention away and dwarf the pain.
But seeing Korra here, hair shorter and quieter but solid and real and still so much Korra, Asami knows.
What times does not, cannot do- fill in the ache.