Listening to a lot of Reflektor made me want to write this, specifically It's Never Over(Oh Orpheus). Great freaking song. It's about a Greek myth where Orpheus goes to Hades to retrieve his love, Eurydice, after her death. Hades promises Orpheus that he can take Eurydice back to the living world, but only under one condition; she will follow him but he cannot look back before they have left the Underworld. So this is inspired by that myth.

Mud squelched beneath struggling steps on the riverside, dark and thick as blood in the red clay. Red as the slashes of color in Asami's coat. Korra followed it like a beacon, shimmering like a foolish dream in and out of sight as fog rolled off the water in unfriendly clouds.

The crimson beacon stopped and shivered. "Asami, I'm still here," Korra called out. "Keep walking. Just keep looking ahead. I'm right behind you."

Slim shoulders slumped, and black boots continued their path. The river flowed beside them seemingly endlessly. Sometimes Asami would fade from sight. Those were the moments where Korra worried most. Then her coat and boots came back into view, and Asami's back was still turned, and she still marched ahead, her neck straining to make her eyes do the same.

Just wait, Korra pleaded. Not much longer now. She could not say what part of the Spirit World she was in. Or if she was in the Spirit World at all. Sometimes she looked down and her hands were wrinkled and spotted, an old woman's hands. Sometimes they were stubby and pudgy, with tiny legs to match. Her body glowed transparent, a specter's skin. A grim reminder. Motivation to trudge ahead at all costs.

She heard Asami's voice ahead, feathering through the mists like a beautiful song in an unknown language. Korra need not hear the words to know her wife pleaded. Asami had pleaded every step of the way. A sweet melody that both pillowed and scratched at the Avatar's ears. The pain was worth it. Korra had missed Asami's voice, and if pleading was how she had to hear it, pleading would have to do.

Sometimes Asami would stop, and Korra would have to shout. Her voice was deaf to her own ears, but Asami seemed to hear, her hair whipping when her head tilted, and would keep walking, somehow resisting the urge to turn around to catch that long denied glimpse of her wife. Impossibly strong as always. She'd always been the stronger of them.

Even Korra's death did not steal her strength. Korra could not say she would be so determined in her wife's place.

How long had it been now? She tried to remember Asami as she had been the day Korra left home for the last time. The stress lines her stint as President had cut mercilessly into her forehead and temples. The way the gray streaks through her hair had somehow further dignified her, had made her seem even more powerful, intelligent, and beautiful. The occasional tremble of her hands that decades of precise movements had inflicted upon them, and the curses escaping her lips, spoken like a ward against an evil spell.

How much older was she now? It was hard to tell through the mist and clouded eyes. How long had they followed this river, marching in a ghostly procession, so close yet too far away from each other?

A thick cloud of fog enveloped them, and Korra could hardly see her feet beneath her as the ground grew hard, icy. "Korra?" Asami called out. "Can you still see me?"

Korra tried to call out. The fog seemed to swallow her voice and crawl down her throat, cold and stony. Her skin grew cold and she shivered. Korra had always loved the cold. Had thrived in snow and harsh winds that drove others to shelter. This was a different kind of cold. A familiar numbness attempting to freeze her body in place. Korra gritted her teeth and made her legs stride faster ahead, over the icy ground.

"Follow my voice, Korra. Just follow my voice." Asami's voice strained, hands of age and fear wrapped around her throat. "It can't be much further. Just follow me."

Korra had always followed Asami, and never regretted it. She had never been given reason to regret anything except the years stolen from them.

Dark shadows crept through the mist on spindly legs. Korra reached out, but the shadows paid her no mind. They converged on Asami, her frightened gasps mixing with determined grunts and a mocking laugh that hung in the air like a swollen cloud preparing to empty upon the world below. The shadows that dissipated were quickly replaced. They danced beyond Asami's reach, waiting their turn, taunting her.

It wasn't fair. That wasn't the deal the spirit made. All Asami was supposed to do was lead her out. There had been no mention of fog or shadows. Just don't look back, the spirit had said. Never look back at Korra.

Asami's silhouette flowed like the water beside her as she fought the shadows off. She had worked hard as she grew older to retain her limber reflexes. The woman Korra watched fought was brief moments slower than the woman she'd met decades ago, but still fast enough to fight her foes off, war cries spilling from her lips with every blow. Maybe that one shadow would not have come so close to scratching her cheek. Maybe she wouldn't have slipped in the mud. Maybe she wouldn't have winced when a hooked claw ripped through the fabric at her forearm, drawing blood.

Korra swallowed a sob, but it reached her eyes anyway, the tears hot as fire on her frigid cheeks as they leaked down her face. She wondered if she was doing the right thing. If she was only condemning herself and her wife to further tragedy. No one escaped death forever. Even if she returned now, her life would end again. Or Asami's would, leaving Korra alone. Was all this really worth it? Should she stop where she stands and let Asami continue on back to her life, back to the daughters they loved and the grandchildren they adored?

Time passes. Grief dissipates. A person finds strength and comfort in new friends, new loved ones, new pursuits. Korra did not want to hold Asami back from discovering what joys life waited to bestow upon her. They had loved each other. They still do. But as important as that love was, Asami would move on. She would find meaning to grow older and love anew, surrounded by family and friends. Korra slowed, and stopped, letting the mist swallow the world ahead.

Asami's voice reached Korra's ears, a faint whisper bordering on suggestion more than fact, half-broken with unshed sobs. The Avatar hurried her steps until her wife's back stood tall through the mist, the red and black beacon leading her once again. She had never abandoned Asami. She would not now. If this was a mistake, it was yet another mistake they would experience together.

The fog melted away, revealing a wooden bridge fording the river. Asami hurried across, puffs of dust kicking up beneath her boots with every creaking stride atop the wooden planks. Korra stopped before her first step and smiled. She smiled imagining Daiyu and Huiling's faces. She smiled thinking of her grandchildren. She smiled at long walks and long nights with a soft, familiar hand and a head pillowed on her shoulder.

Korra saw Asami's neck twitch and turn ahead of her shoulders. She tried to hurry, but it was too late. The river froze and broke through the bridge, sending a shower of splinters soaring into the sky to fall down on Korra's head and shoulders, scratching at her face. A wall of ice blocked her way, clear as a mirror. Where her reflection should have been, Asami stared back instead. Not the woman Korra had grown old with, but the young woman she'd fallen in love with. Asami's emerald eyes filled with tears and her ruby lips quivered.

"But…" she sobbed. "…you were right…how…no."

Korra smiled. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

"I didn't look back until I was gone. I thought you were with me. I'm so sorry."

"Sami, it's not your fault. I hesitated. I'm to blame."

Asami's hand pressed against the ice. Smooth, no wrinkles, the hand that held hers the day Jinora was named an airbending master, the hand that gripped excitedly as they entered the Spirit World together. Korra reached to press her palm against the soft skin once more. The ice chilled her very soul.

"There has to be some way," Asami said. " I'll find you again, we'll make this happen. I won't give up."

"Sami, it's over."

"No!"

"Sami." Korra took a deep breath. It had always been too good to be true. And unfair to the woman she loved. "Sami, you shouldn't spend the rest of your life clinging to the past. You have Daiyu and Huiling. You have our grandchildren. You have our friends. Don't dwell. You've never been a very good dweller."

"But I want to spend my life with you."

"And you did. But it's like Katara always told us. You can't dwell on what has already happened. It's better to focus on what will happen next."

"Korra, I love you."

"I love you, too."

The two kept their palms pressed to the ice. Korra closed her eyes, not wanting to see the sorrow flowing from Asami's beautiful emeralds. "Enough of that. Come on, now, it's been a long time since I saw our girls. Tell me about them. Please don't make me watch you cry."

Asami swallowed, breathed deep, and smiled. Asami had always been the strong one. Stronger than Korra could ever dream of being.

They stood across from each other, reflected in the ice, and reflected on their lives. They laughed over the happy years spent together. They vented frustrations and sorrows from raising their children. They cooed and squealed over their grandchildren. They talked through resentment stored deep over the years. They spoke every word they could think of and shared every joy. All the while the ice wall slowly melted, streaks of steaming tears flowing down the mirror face matching those shared by Korra and her wife. Asami promised to make the most of what time remained to her. Korra promised they would reunite. Their lips met on the weeping ice.

Asami was the first to close her eyes, a smile on her flawless face. Korra watched the ice melt past her hair, then her eyes, before she did the same. When she opened them, the river flowed again and Asami was gone.

Korra turned back the way she came with her eyes fixed to the muddy riverbank. A scrap of cloth caught her eye, half-buried and stiff in the mud. She knelt down and plucked it off the ground with a spotted, wrinkled hand. A thin streak of blood stained the fabric where the shadow had scratched across Asami's arm.

"I promise," Korra whispered, clutching it in her hands and placing one foot in front of the other.

Yeah, it's sad, but there's hope there.