Imperfect
She wakes up in the morning to pain. The bed is empty, as always, and for several minutes she is forced to lie still as the spasms in her legs pass. Sometimes she wonders what it'll be like to wake up first, to see Asami curled up beside her with her black hair disheveled and her lips unnaturally pale without lipstick. But Korra has never been an early riser, and in these days there isn't even anything to rise up early for.
In one smooth practiced motion she lifts her legs over the bed and lowers herself into the wheelchair. Getting to the bathroom is trickier, and brushing her teeth and washing her face sitting down is trickier still. But it is much easier now than it has been at first, full of awkward bumps and unintended falls, and after so many months the wheelchair is almost natural. She just wishes the damn thing can go up stairs.
Breakfast is waiting for her in the kitchen. Fried platypus bear eggs with two slices of toast and a large serving of komodo sausages. She can smell it from the bedroom and she is starving by the time she wheels herself into the kitchen. Asami always makes time to cook something before she leaves for the morning, and thanks to some inventive use of firebending technology, everything is still even warm after so many hours. "Cooking's a hobby," Asami simply said when asked. And Korra moped around a bit, wishing that the most she could make wasn't a soggy sea prune stew.
She is on her third sausage when she hears the door open, some scuffling noises, and a large heavy object settling on the living room floor. "That's good, leave it there," Asami's voice calls. There are some grunts and the door closes again – and then a long, heavy sigh, as if all the air in the world is being forced through an overworked pair of lungs. "Those guys couldn't lift a wine glass without breaking it into a thousand pieces," Asami complains, appearing through the doorway. She sinks into the chair across from Korra, rubbing her eyes.
"What is it?"
"A new magnet I just finished assembling. How do you like the sausages?"
"Could use a bit more salt." Korra wolfs down the last of it and wipes her mouth. Asami is dressed in her usual red-and-black dress and jacket, but one of the buttons has come undone, she notices, and there are streaks of dirt down the pant leg. "Difficult morning?"
Asami rolls her eyes. Korra smiles. Rebuilding a company is a difficult task, as she found out from Asami (in rather excruciating detail) over the last few months. This morning, it seems, has been rougher than usual, especially with Varrick "poking his smug nose where it doesn't belong, that creep." There is capital to acquire, stockholders to appease, assets to be liquidated, inventions to patent…and here is where Korra stops paying attention to the words, merely listens to the gentle melody of Asami's voice as she describes the rise and fall of a world she has stopped living in. At the end Asami squeezes Korra's hands, as if apologizing for unloading all her troubles. She finishes by saying, "Ready for some exercise?"
Korra nods, stretching out in the wheelchair. Her joints crack in a way she's pretty sure they're not supposed to. Mentally she groans. Once upon a time she enjoyed physical exercise, and if she searches her memories she can still recall the excitement of standing at the arena with the crowds cheering her name. But exercise now is not probending or power disc – it is slow, painful steps that make her feel as if she is a toddler again. Still, she is alive, she supposes, and that is better than being dead like most victims of mercury poisoning.
But sometimes she wonders.
"What do you mean I can never walk again?"
Her voice came out louder than she intended, more desperate than she intended. Tenzin laid a hand on her arm and she brushed him off sharply. She lay in bed surrounded by more people than the small hospital room was certainly meant to hold – Mako, Bolin, Asami, Tenzin, all that's missing were Pabu and Naga and the rest of Republic City. She tried to stand up but her legs couldn't even lift the covers. Instead she pushed herself upright, staring daggers at the doctor standing over her, as if he was the one responsible. Nervously, he fiddled with his glasses.
"I'm not saying it's impossible," he started, "but in these cases it's not uncommon for paralysis to be lifelong – "
"I'm the Avatar!" Korra shouted. "How am I supposed to do my duties if I can't even walk?"
"Through extensive physical therapy, it's possible to recover some usage with time. Still, it's doubtful that you will ever – "
"What the doctor means to say," Mako cut in quickly, "is that if you work hard enough, you'll be back to your old self in no time."
"And how long is that going to take?" Korra said bitterly. "A few years? Some Avatar I'll be then."
Bolin placed an arm around her with his usual disregard for personal space. "Relax," he said, waving his hand around like he's introducing a mover. "Think of it positively. You'll have all the time in the world to get better at pai sho. You'll be the first pai sho master Avatar!"
"Fantastic. Pai sho. Just what I've always wanted."
"Bolin has a point," Asami said, stooping down to talk to her. "Look on the positive side of things. Think of it as an opportunity to…expand your interests."
"In the meantime, the airbenders will temporarily take over your peacekeeping duties," Tenzin said. "Leave it to us. Focus on recuperating – "
"I don't need to recuperate. I'm fine." The words sounded false even to her own ears. Korra massaged her legs, kneading the flesh as hard as she could, desperate for any sensation in those two blocks of stone. Deep within herself she could feel the breakdown of her body – part poison, part shock, part a disappointment she's too scared to describe. Her limbs didn't move the way she wanted them to and pain throbbed behind her skull every time she blinked. She felt as if she had been assembled in a Future Industries factory, her parts melted down from recycled garbage and pieced back poorly together by some apathetic worker. She swirled her fingers; a gust of wind spiraled through the air. She still had her bending, at least (and here a memory of Amon was stamped out mercilessly), but even that was just a shadow of its former self.
"I know you feel frustrated," Tenzin said, "but just give it time. All will be healed – "
"Get out," Korra said, burying her face in her arms. "I don't want to talk to anyone. Just get out."
She heard Tenzin's sigh, the holier-than-thou sigh she had heard (and gotten sick of) countless times already. There was the shuffling of boots, and the door closed with a click. One last hand lingered on her arm, the skin smooth and perfect, long nails running lines across her skin, but that too was soon gone. The tears leaked from her eyes and continued long into the darkness.
"There you go…you've almost got it!"
Korra takes another step forward. The action sends a sharp stab of pain from her foot to her spine, as if a needle is piercing the veins running along her leg. She grits her teeth, focuses on Asami's voice and Asami's hands gripping her own, leading her forward like a mother leading a child. Even then she needs to take several deep breaths before continuing. The next step is harder. She has barely lifted her foot an inch off the ground before it falls down again and she collapses into Asami's arms, face covered in sweat.
"You did a great job," Asami says, stroking her hair. "That's five steps, now. You're improving."
"By next week I'll be running a marathon," Korra replies sarcastically. The heiress smells like apples but even that perfume cannot completely hide the smell of engine oil garnered from countless hours in the factory. It is a good scent, better and more imperfect than the pure perfumes that line the shops of Republic City. The same scent lulls Korra to sleep at night and remains in her mind until she wakes up in the morning, craving its owner. Gently, she pushes Asami away and stands up on her own feet. She wobbles for a bit, but Asami's hold on her is firm.
"I'm ready to try again."
It is bright afternoon in the garden, and the grass tickles the bare flesh of her ankles when she takes a step once again. Instead of the pain she focuses on the clear water of the nearby pond, so clear she can see the koi swimming at the bottom with light rippling off their scales. It works, for a while, but when she takes her second step the pain is so great she reflexively steps back, accidentally twists her ankle. She falls forward. She crashes into Asami and they both go down in a tangle of limbs on the grass.
For maybe half a minute she lies still on top of Asami, waiting for the pain to ebb to a more tolerable level of excruciating. Her head has fallen in the crook of Asami's neck, that smooth patch of skin cool against her own. She grips Asami's shoulders so tightly her fingers turn pale. The heiress whispers softly into her ear, "It'll be alright." Korra answers by grabbing her hair, tilting her head back for a kiss, and when it is over the pain is gone as if it has never existed at all.
She looked out the window onto the island. Even at night Air Temple Island was more crowded than at daytime months before. The new airbenders were gathered in the courtyard, Jinora at their center, basking in the praise of becoming the youngest female airbending master in generations. Kai stood next to her, touching her casually when he thought nobody was looking – but I am looking, Korra thought. I see you all. Bumi was off in the corner showing off again to a crowd of wide-eyed youngsters. He waved his arms and jumped up and down, describing some exorbitant tale involving a wrench and a badgerfrog, and their laughter floated up in the air and through the windows and filled up Korra's room.
She shut the windows and closed the curtain. When someone knocked on the door she was almost glad for the company to distract her. "Come in," she called, trying to sound as if she hadn't spent the last few hours moping alone.
It was Tenzin (of course) and Asami (unexpectedly). The old monk looked as tired as always, a few extra wrinkles on his forehead from the new airbenders, no doubt. And Asami was Asami – beautiful, graceful, perfect. Korra felt jealousy rise up in her chest and throttle her throat. In that moment she would've traded her status as Avatar and all her bending prowess besides for a body as perfect as that, to be able to walk again. "What do you want?" she choked out.
Tenzin looked at Asami; Asami looked at Tenzin. Korra stared at the both of them darkly.
"I've been thinking," Tenzin started, "that maybe you need a change of scenery. I can tell you're not…quite enjoying yourself here."
"I love it here. All these new airbenders running through my hair and keeping me awake at night. All the little children asking me why I'm sitting in a wheelchair. Why makes you think I'm not enjoying myself?
"We only want to help," Asami said. "I think what you need is some peace and quiet, somewhere nice and relaxing where you can recuperate without disturbance – "
"So you're kicking me out," Korra said, knowing that it wasn't true but she couldn't help herself, lashing out was a reflex by now. "You've decided that you've had enough of taking care of a cripple – "
"That's not what we're doing at all!" Asami cried in a voice more pained than it had any right to be. "The doctor said that peace and quiet is the best we can do for you. I have a villa in the country, a few miles south of Republic City, so it's close enough that you can visit anyone any time you want. It's a small house and there won't be anybody else there – just you and me – and the country is gorgeous this time of year. You'll love it."
"You have to understand, Korra," Tenzin said. "We're doing our best. What's been done to you is unforgivable. But you need to give it time."
"I've spent eighteen years of my life trying to be the Avatar. I think that's enough time." She turned away from them, refused to let them – especially Asami – see her tears. The world swirled like a watercolor painting. Damn them all.
"Do whatever you want. It makes no difference to me."
The afternoon finds them in the living room. It is not the largest room in the house but it is the largest room on the first floor, which is the only part of the house they're using. The room is almost entirely taken up by reams of paper as tall as Korra – when standing. Each page holds the start of some invention in Hiroshi's untidy scrawl, and even if the letters don't look as if they are written by Pabu with a piece of charcoal, Korra doubts she would've understood a word of it. Asami is staring at a blueprint, the same one she has been working on for the last week, pencil tapping against her chin. She crosses her arms, raises an eyebrow, gives a growl of frustration and shakes her head. Crumpling it up, she throws it into the trashcan.
"It won't work," she says, sinking into her armchair. "The inductor just can't hold enough energy. If only there was some way we can lower the flux…"
Korra nods her head at all the right moments. She runs her tongue over her lips, tastes the last lingering remnants of cherry. She loosens her collar – she still feels hot from earlier, though only part of that is from the exercise.
"If only father was still here," Asami continues. "Electric engines were his specialty. He had an entire new line drawn up before…"
"…before he turned Equalist," Korra finishes for her. "Don't beat yourself up over it. You're the smartest person I know."
"Varrick is the problem," Asami says, narrowing her eyes in that special scowl she saves for the tycoon. Even when angry her face looks like it belongs in a magazine. "He has something big planned, some type of new invention that's going to leave me in the dust. He wants to bankrupt my company, then swoop in and snatch it at the last minute. Ooooh, if I could just take a shock glove to his face…"
"Then you'd improve his looks."
Asami laughs, her green eyes brightening as if there are lights behind her pupils. Idly, she takes Korra's hand, tracing the lines in her palm. Asami's nails are painted pink today, a shade between tulip and hibiscus, making slight indents in the flesh when they press down. "I miss him," she says softly. "To you he may have been an Equalist, but to me he was my father. For eighteen years I thought he was the greatest person in the world – he still is, in a way. Even now when I visit him in jail, he's kind to me. He doesn't blame me for getting him locked up in there. He asks me how my life is going, if everything is alright, if I've traveled recently, if – " here her lips curl into a smile " – if I'd found a boyfriend yet."
"You tell him no, and that you don't ever plan on doing so," Korra says with a laugh. She kisses her, longer this time, and deeper, and by the time they break her head is swimming with the scent of apples. The room is pleasantly warm. When a breeze blows in from the window the papers rustle, and Korra listens to that sound like butterfly wings with her eyes closed, head resting on Asami's shoulder.
"I'll miss it all," she murmurs. "Sometimes I think it'll be okay if my legs never recover, so I can stay here with you forever. Isn't that a bad way for an Avatar to think?"
Asami presses a finger to Korra's lips. "Don't think about being the Avatar. With me you're just Korra."
The house was pretty nice, Korra had to admit. It's small but in a cozy sort of way, just two stories tall and barely larger than her old home in the South Pole. Each brick had been meticulously painted until it shone white in the sun, and inlaid on the mahogany doors and windowsills was delicate gold tracework depicting fruits and flowers. The yard was the most noticeable feature – it spanned several times the area of the house itself, complete with pond and garden and even some of those fancy bushes shaped like animals. "It used to be my father's vacation home," Asami told her. "I spent every summer of my childhood here."
It really was just them two, Korra realized. Not even maids or butlers, as she had assumed a millionaire heiress would bring. When the movers finished putting down the last of their things and their truck rumbled off into the distance, she was struck by the quiet. No cars, no voices, no laughter – just the burbling of the brook and the song of sparrowkeets.
"I've already got everything sorted out," Asami said. "We won't be using the second floor. I've renovated the dining room and most of the parlor into two more bedrooms. It'll be a bit cramped, but with just us two I think we'll be fine."
"Why are you here taking care of my anyway?" Korra asked. "Did you draw the short straw?"
She sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "I volunteered, Korra. We all wanted to help you, but that would've defeated the entire purpose. I got lucky, in the end. Tenzin's busy with the new airbenders, Mako's busy with police work, and Bolin has his movers."
"So I got passed around like a Kuai ball to the person with the least excuse," Korra said over Asami's protests. "Shouldn't you be busy also? I thought you had a company to run."
"You're more important," Asami said firmly. Her tone caught Korra off-guard. "My company stuff can wait. I just need to be there for some meetings in the morning, that's all. All my time will be spent with you. We're your friends, Korra. I'm your friend. None of that has changed even after your accident. You'll never be a burden."
You're lying, Korra thought to herself but did not say. How could she not be a burden to others if she was a burden to herself?
They receive a call from Tenzin at five p.m. Korra has almost forgotten it is Friday – the days blend into each other when there's not much going on – and she is helping Asami with the dishes when the radio crackles from the next room, reminding them it's time for Tenzin's weekly update. His voice on the line is as calm as ever, if tired, though it is admittedly difficult to pick up on these things over radio.
"We're doing fine over here," Tenzin says. "We just arrived at the Fire Nation yesterday. Zuko sends his regards. He wishes you the best – "
"He has a dragon!" Another voice – it must be Meelo – interrupts. "It breathed fire and he let us ride on it and it was awesome!"
"His daughter is super pretty!" A female voice, this time. Ikki or Jinora, then, but only Ikki is ever that excited. "She showed us around the palace and we got to meet – "
There are several grunts, a few yells, and a burst of static before Tenzin is back on the line. "The children are excited, as you can tell," he says with a sigh. "The airbenders, too – most of them have never set foot outside of the Earth Kingdom. Caused me no end of trouble, touching things they weren't supposed to."
"How's Jinora doing?" Korra asks.
Tenzin growls. Korra can practically see his lips droop, his eyebrows mushing together like a caterpillar whenever he gets angry. "She spends way too much time with that Kai boy, if you ask me. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?"
Sneaking a glance at Asami, Korra struggles to keep from bursting out laughing. "I have no idea. I'm sure they're just good friends."
"We're doing fine over here also," Asami says. "Korra still can't walk very far but it's certainly an improvement from last week. It's only a matter of time."
A matter of time indeed. Korra is not nearly as optimistic – it has taken her nearly three months to be able to walk five steps. At this rate, she might be able to walk outside unaided within the decade. Strangely enough, that doesn't bother her as much as it should.
"I'm glad to hear that," Tenzin says. "We miss you over here. In these hard times people need their Avatar more than ever. You'll be back with us in no time at all, doing your duties just like before. I just know it."
"Thanks, Tenzin," Korra says. Poor old Tenzin. He means well, even if he isn't as comforting as he likes to think.
She fell out of the wheelchair with a sound like the snapping of a twig. Immediately her legs crumpled beneath her, bent in an unnatural position, toes pointed towards her ankles. She cried out in pain, trying to raise herself up with her hands.
Something crashed from the next room over. Asami appeared through the door, her hands wet with soap – she must've been washing the dishes. She rushed over immediately, laying one wet hand on Korra's shoulder.
"Are you alright? What happened?"
"I'm fine," Korra gasped. "Don't call the doctor."
"You're clearly not fine. What happened?"
Korra managed to raise herself to a sitting position, leaning against the wheelchair for support. Sweat ran down her face from the effort. Asami's face was much too close, her hands gripping Korra's arm so tightly it hurt. Why do you look so scared? Korra wondered. She smelled the scent of dish soap and her shirt was wet where the heiress touched it.
"I tried to walk," she said. "Forget it."
"The doctor told you to limit your therapy to half an hour each day! And I wasn't even there, what were you thinking – "
"I'll be fine."
"You might've broken a bone," Asami said, reaching for the radio. "I need to get the doctor immediately – "
"No! I don't want to see anyone!"
Korra's voice came out as a snarl, the words torn from her throat in a single burst of panic. Asami froze with her hand on the receiver.
"Please," Korra whispered. "Don't call anyone."
She looked away. But something must have still lingered in her eyes or perhaps it was the pleading in her voice that eventually convinced Asami, with a sigh, to settle the receiver back on to its stand.
"Fine. I won't call the doctor, for now," she said. "But I will the moment I sense something is wrong. And you need to promise me you won't do something so stupid ever again."
"I promise," Korra said, closing her eyes. "It was useless anyway."
When the sun is red over the horizon, they gather in the living room for a mover. The projector was set up by Bolin several weeks ago, along with a generous donation of film reels that, inevitably, all featured Nuktuk. "Watching it will make you feel better immediately!" he proclaimed. And it certainly had, for a time, but eventually all the references to Unalaq and the water tribes – no matter how silly or unrealistic – reminded Korra too much of things she tried to forget. Luckily, Varrick's monopoly on movers hadn't been as comprehensive as he hoped. A whole industry sprang up practically overnight, some of them fantastic, some of them…not so much, she thinks with a shudder, remembering a particularly poignant biopic about Tahno's probending career.
"What are we watching today?" she asks.
Asami runs her finger along the row of film reels, stopping at one labeled The Legend of Wang Fire. "How about this? I heard it was good."
Based on a true Fire Nation story, or so the opening sequence claims. They curl up on the couch, a blanket draped over them, a bowl of fire gummies within arm's reach. Outside the wolfdogs howl and the wind rustles against the rafters. They laugh, they sigh, they hold their breaths. When a flash of lightning lights up the sinister spy's face, Asami jumps, making Korra giggle. When the firebending effects light up the screen, they ooh and aah and clap their hands. When the cave collapses, burying Private Fire alive, they both shed a tear over his sacrifice. But when it is over and they are deep in each other's arms, eyes half-closed while the credits roll, the mover is the last thing on their minds.
"The world doesn't need me anymore," she said one late summer night.
Asami's head jerked over to her. "Don't do anything rash," she said immediately. "The world needs you. Your friends need you. I need you."
It had only been a week since they moved to Asami's country house and already Korra could feel the isolation getting to her, slowing all her movements and her thoughts until she was unsure how much time had really passed. The air had the consistency of syrup. But it was not an entirely unpleasant sensation, this sense of timelessness. She and Asami sat on the balcony overlooking a stretch of forest. The lights of Republic City glimmered in the distance. Even from this distance its skyscrapers were the brightest things around, especially the steeples of the probending arena pointed towards the sky like diamond needles. They had been covered with moss the last time she had been there, she remembered. She never did get around to fixing that spirit problem. She smiled – Raiko can solve his own problems.
"The Air Nomads are doing a better job than I ever did," Korra said. "Everywhere I went I just caused more trouble, and all I got for my efforts was…this. Everything would've been better off if I'd never become Avatar."
"Why not stop being the Avatar, then?"
Korra almost choked on her surprise. She stared at Asami, wondering if the poison had damaged her ears. Asami continued, "You've lived your entire life trying to be the Avatar. You've done a great job so far, but it must be tiring. Why not take a break? This is as good a time as any. Act like Korra, for once."
"W-What are you talking about?" Korra stammered out. "I am the Avatar. The Avatar is me. There is no difference."
Asami peered at her with those large green eyes. "Really? Are you sure?"
Korra shifted uncomfortably in her seat. All of a sudden her own name sounded strange to her. Korra. She felt as if she was looking at it in a dictionary, reading off the definition word by word: eighteen year-old girl from the South Pole. Fond of Lychee nuts. Despises sea prunes. Favorite activity: pro bending. Love interests: none. Current status: crippled.
"There's nobody else here but me," Asami said, laying a hand on hers. "I'll accept you for who you are, no matter what."
Dinner is a relatively simple affair, steamed Arctic fish with sandalwood leaves and Lychee seeds. Korra helps Asami with it, cutting up the leaves and crushing the seeds. These tasks, at least, don't require the use of her legs (or any culinary finesse). It reminds her of when she was young, helping her mother back in the South Pole. She can never cut the leaves into star shapes like she is supposed to, but Asami says it's alright, it doesn't affect how it tastes, anyway. And she is right – the end product is delicious.
After dinner, Asami is back in the living room again, pouring over blueprints. Korra, for her part, takes this time to practice bending in the yard. Without her legs she cannot bend as well as she used to – the stance is all wrong – but she manages.
She begins with air first, her most difficult element. She likes to start with it because it calms her mind for the future ones. Sitting in the middle of the garden, she aims for the chimes hanging from the doorway. Her first shot goes wide, clanging the window shutters, but her second one is closer, and her third shot makes the chimes dance and tinkle. Fire is next. Jets of fire shoot from her fingertips, lighting up the sky, but the anger required to stoke the flames, so omnipresent in yestermonths, is hard to muster up, and what should've been an impressive display of fireworks ends up looking like something from a toy shop. She practices earth for only a few minutes. Out of all the elements earth has suffered the most, because it's just so difficult to earthbend without a firm stance, and it has never been among her favorites anyway (she keeps this to herself – Bolin will be devastated). Water, her natural element, is last, and also the easiest to do without legs. Most of the motions are in the arms. She creates a snake of water from the stream, lets it coil up her arm and around her body and out through the other arm before dissipating it in a burst of rain.
She runs through some more exercises, simple, novice-tier stuff, but it still leaves her drained and marveling at her own weakness. The moon is up by the time she heads back inside. Asami is already waiting for her in her bedroom. She helps Korra out of the wheelchair onto the edge of the bed, where she peels off the sweat-stained clothes and underwear, leaving Korra shivering, dressed only in her hair and the scars she received over the years. Over her right shoulder is a jagged line from Amon, below her breasts is a round purple mark from Unalaq, and a series of stippled dots along her wrists and ankles are the latest additions, leftovers of the poison Zaheer administered. Gently, holding her in her arms as if holding a child, Asami carries her to the bathroom, where the tub has already been filled with water with jasmine petals scattered on top for scent.
Korra closes her eyes. The liquid loosens the knots in her flesh until she feels like she is melting into it. She takes the soap and rubs it over her body – Asami offers to do it for her, but Korra declines out of mortification – gently running it over muscles that have begun to lose their hardness from months of atrophy. Her legs are especially skinny, and when she pokes a finger at her calves the flesh wobbles, like one of those jelly deserts that are all the rage in Republic City these days. Asami giggles.
"You know," Korra says, "you don't need to watch me every time I bathe."
Asami smirks. "What if you hurt yourself? One can never be too careful."
When she is finished Asami carries her body, dripping wet, back into the bedroom. Her towel and pajamas are laid out on the bed. Korra has already dried herself off and put on the top part of her pajamas by the time Asami finishes with her shower, stepping out of the bathroom with her hair wet and a towel wrapped around her waist. Looking at her body, Korra feels that familiar pang of jealousy, not because of Asami's ability to walk but because of her beauty. Here is a woman who can have anyone in Republic City. Instead she chooses to spend her time with a washed-up cripple. And she berates herself immediately for the thought – Asami would get mad again if she finds out she was belittling herself.
Asami slips into her negligee first before helping Korra with the pants. Tucking her into bed, making sure her legs are comfortably positioned, Asami slips into the covers with her, and Korra instinctively moves closer to her, seeking her body heat. Pink-painted nails flick off the night lamp. The room plunges into darkness. The only thing Korra can hear is the sound of their breaths mingling in the night. She places an arm over Asami, brings her closer until they are on their sides facing each other, so close that each other's face would be all they can see have the lights still been on. Strands of Asami's hair, still wet, tickle her cheek.
"I love you," she whispers to the dark.
Asami whispers back, "I'll stay with you forever."
With the feeling in her heart that perhaps the world will be alright, Korra drifts off to sleep.
She woke up screaming.
Amon stood over her, finger pressed against her forehead. She shoved him away but Unalaq appeared next, snickering, his eyes red with Vaatu's power, and then he, too, changed. Zaheer clawed open her mouth and brought a cup to her lips. The liquid he forced down her throat tasted like ashes. Desperately she shoved him away, shoved them all away, but a pair of strong hands clasped around her wrists and forced her still. She backed away, saw the faces of Amon and Unalaq and Zaheer pieced together like kintsugi using tar, but it was just Asami this time, poor Asami, her eyes wide and her mouth voicing soundless, desperate words.
" – ra, Korra, are you alright? Can you hear me? Korra!"
She tried to wrench away, still sobbing.
"Korra, listen to me," Asami said, holding firm. "It was just a dream. You're okay now. None of it is real."
She buried her face in her knees. The words came out of her in torrents, escaping from a hidden hole in her heart like a stream overflowing after rain. "They're going to kill me. I'm so weak. Nobody needs me any more, maybe they never did. Why am I the Avatar?"
"It's okay, Korra. Nobody's going to hurt you now."
"I failed everyone. I was the one responsible for opening the spirit portals. I was the one responsible for destroying the past Avatars. I was the one responsible for giving Zaheer airbending. You shouldn't even be here, taking care of a cripple – Ah…"
Asami's mouth closed around her own. Her fingers knotted in Korra's hair, palms braced against her cheeks, and for the duration of the kiss – is that what it is? That is what it is, right? – all thought was wiped from Korra's mind. But her body instinctively pressed back, hands seeking out the small of Asami's back, forcing her closer with a thirst her own traitorous heart had forgotten to inform her brain.
"Have you calmed down now?" Asami said, bringing a hand to her lips. She murmured, "I've waited way too long to do that."
The crickets chirped outside. Somewhere an owl hooted. Several years passed before Korra felt the numbness in her lips wear off, as if she had been a victim of shirshu venom, and it was another several years before the fragments of her mind annealed together enough for her to stammer out, "W-What was that?"
"A kiss. I could've sworn you've done it before."
"That was – that was with…Why did you do that?"
Asami cupped Korra's chin with her fingers. "Why anything? I love you. Isn't that enough?"
Asami's fingers were soft and spider-like against her skin. Korra bit her lip. "I'm not sure – "
"I knew it," Asami said softly, turning her face away. Something sparkled on her cheek. "I'm sorry. I only wanted to help."
She turned to leave.
"Wait!" Korra blurted out. Asami looked at her from the door, green eyes webbed with red, and Korra could only stare at her helplessly. How could she convey this feeling she herself couldn't even understand? All this stuff was confusing enough when she still had a functioning pair of legs. It was so difficult, too difficult, that she wanted to curl up under the covers and pretend that nothing had ever happened, but that wouldn't be fair, wouldn't be fair to Asami in the way the world had never been fair to her.
"I mean – I'm not sure, but I didn't hate it, I think. Just…give me some time, okay? I have a lot of stuff to think about."
Asami wiped her eyes. Suddenly Korra realized that this was the first time she had ever seen Asami without her makeup, and the sight made her wonder why the girl ever bothered to put it on in the first place.
"Thanks, Korra."
She was halfway through the door again when Korra yelled "Wait!" for the second time.
"S-Stay with me," she stammered out. "Until I fall asleep, I mean. I have terrible dreams."
Asami's eyes lit up relief so palpable that it almost made up for what a terrible idea it had been. Korra lay as still as possible in the darkness, trying not to disturb Asami curled up beside her. Asami's breaths were deep and regular and exhaled warm puffs of air against her neck. How could she possibly fall asleep now? She was acutely aware of Asami's arms, one braced against her back, the other draped over her body with fingertips brushing against her breasts. The air was unbearably hot. But as she stared up at the ceiling she felt part of herself unravel, as if her body had been twisted into a knot, and she remembered back to that day at the race track when she met a girl too perfect to exist. Had it really been so long ago? Her eyes closed on a world less dark than the night before. And this time there she did not dream.
A/N: This was the fastest I've ever written anything. I just had to write something after watching the ending of season 3. Hope you guys enjoyed it.