A/N: I felt like there were a few missing scenes in the finale, so I've decided to write three of the missing scenes from Asami's point of view. I was going for a Bosami friendship here, but I suppose that you could interpret it as romance if you so choose. Whatever floats your boat. Or ship, I guess.
Snow.
Soft and white and silent in its fall as it blankets everything at once, living and dead alike. From the clear skies the colour of sorrow up above flurries float down in whispers, settling on the ground like the spirits' way of connecting them all together under the nothingness, reminding them that they, too, will be nothingness one day.
Her father lies in the white, the electrified wires black around his uniform, saying nothing, his face an impassive mask of fury, disbelief, and hate. Her boot crunches quietly as she steps into the snow, the wind lifting her hair, fanning it out behind her, and she gazes down at the man she thought loved her more than anything. The last family she has. The last.
And now she doesn't even have that.
Her father doesn't love her mother, doesn't love her, doesn't love. Hate took root, branching out, spiralling into every corner of his spirit until his very existence was, and is, consumed by the need for revenge. But revenge, as her mother told her once, is a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you're being poisoned yourself.
She wants to tell him something. Wants to make him see reason. Wants to force him to understand. But she can already see that he is lost to her, disappeared like ashes on the air. She remembers her father's hand on her shoulder when her mother was cremated, his touch the only tether that held her to this world. Now it feels like a lie, a sham, a mere diversion, like her father's supposed support for the Fire Ferrets. A cover-up. A little pretend story to hide the roiling rage within him. Even then, did he love her?
Anger contorting his features, her father glares at her, pure hate burning in his eyes. If he could kill his own daughter, what hope is there left?
Her father is gone, replaced by a tool for Amon's revolution, a mecha tank incapable of emotion.
She has no father.
Slowly, she shakes her head, looking solemnly at the man she trusted for seventeen years of her life, her heart beating dully, the reality settling steadily in her. Grief wells up within her like the flood after forty nights of rain, the water lapping as the barren dunes, choking whatever hint of green cold have grown. It is all she feels, this overpowering grief, drowning her. She lost her mother so long ago; she lost her boyfriend; and now she has to lose her father.
Why must she go through all this pain?
But she is strong, strong as the rock of the mountain. She has been strong for as long as she can remember, strong enough to withstand her mother's death, strong enough to withstand her father revealing himself as an Equalist, strong enough to withstand Mako leaving her for another. And she will be strong now.
She has to be.
For Republic City's sake.
And maybe for her own.