Pas De Deux Redux
Republic City: 244 A.G.
The ancient woman sat alone in her bedroom, folded into a huge easy chair that had often cozily held two... but not for a long time now. She shifted a bit, as always looking in vain for a position and posture where at least one of her many sensor-stickies didn't dig into her papery skin. The devices connected wirelessly to a computator loaded with medical programs: they monitored her physical status, and the comp would sound various alarms if any of her body's many failings reached a dangerous pitch. Of course, at this point words like "danger" seemed irrelevant: she knew she was dying, at last. Her doctor had given her at best three more months. She knew the physician well: he felt it was his fault for not miraculously inventing new treatments to extend her life. He was one of Meelo's grandchildren, she recalled: he had inherited both his grandfather's creativity and also his unfortunate tendency to flatulate…
"Mother? Are you awake?"
Asami Sato turned her head with some effort and peered towards the voice. "Yes, honey."
Kyomen stood near her chair, amber eyes dark with concern. His once-black hair was now almost completely gray, and the body that had been lean and hard as a young man had now, in his sixties, thickened and softened from age and too much time in boardroom chairs. Asami could still see in his lined face the scrawny five-year-old that Korra and she had taken in to raise. He had been one of the many orphans created that year by the Blue Fire Dynasty…. They couldn't help them all, but had done what they could; and Kyomen had filled the longing for family that both spouses had been feeling in their later thirties. Her son spoke again.
"Taro is home… do you want to see him right away?"
"No, let him relax for an hour. Bending practice can take it out you, or so I hear. But, not more than an hour. There's a lot to do if we're to be ready by tonight."
"Are you sure? You know there's still time to—"
"It has to be tonight, you know that. It's the anniversary."
"But—"
"Kyomen, I know how hard this is for you, believe me. But, my decision is final." She had been quelling his rebellions for over half a century, and knew exactly how to pitch her voice just so. He sagged in defeat, and left the room without another word.
Asami smiled. He had always been a such a good boy, even when he was willful and disobedient his heart had been true. Neither of his mothers had ever doubted his love and devotion to them. He had been leading Future Industries and its web of subsidiaries for the last three decades, and had worked in more junior positions for over ten years before that. Together they had done some incredible things: the invention of the computator, now a feature in nearly every modern home and business. The Lattice, which connected all those comps and their users; worldwide. The polar and equatorial Beanstalks, rising up into the vacuum of cislunar-space: giving all the peoples of the world easy access to the orbital habitats. The hpersonic flying-wings. The undersea inter-continental tunnels. Asami regretted that she would never see the launch of the Void Nomad, but the experimental craft's faster-than-light drive wouldn't be ready to even test safely until at least two years from now… She and Kyomen had made certain that Future Industries had always lived up to its name.
Of course, Korra had really made it all possible. The company could never have changed the world in so many ways if the Avatar hadn't been there to save it and preserve its balance, time after time. So many threats down the decades: The Equalists, Unalaq and Vaatu, the Red Lotus, Kuvira, the Mockers, the Spirit Parliament, the Blue Fire Dynasty, the Lost Leviathan; on and on and on… and Korra had always stepped up to the challenge and won. All but the last time, of course. How strange, that after all the epic battles she had survived it was a simple assassin's envenomed knife that had brought down mighty Avatar Korra. And how bitterly ironic for Asami as well: in some sense it had been poison that had finally brought she and Korra together, barely in their twenties; and then it was poison again, at the end, that had parted them in this life…
"Asami? You wanted to see me?" It was Taro. Had it been an hour already? Time could behave so strangely sometimes, when you grew older.
"Yes, Taro. Come closer, so I can see you better."
Avatar Taro was nearly eighteen now, tall and handsome and muscular. With his black hair and green eyes, he reminded her so much of her dear friend Bolin, now passed. But of course, he was no relation to the famous lavabender. It was just a fairly common genetic package served up in the delivery rooms of the Earth Confederacy many times each day. But Taro was unique even in his commonness.
"Is there something I can do for you, ma'am?"
Always so polite and formal, cool and reserved: that was Taro. It seemed incredible that he could be the reincarnation of her beautiful wife: spunky, passionate, spontaneous, and exuberant to the last day of her beautiful life.
He had been that way since the first day she met him: his mother had always taught him to be respectful of his elders. He had been barely five then, and Asami had engaged a small army of private investigators for years to scour the world after Korra was killed, finally finding the boy and his family barely scraping by in a Ba Sing Se slum. That same day had seen the entire family (Taro and his two parents) whisked away from poverty to the Sato Estate and its luxury.
When his identity as the Avatar became known, Asami been had forced to wage war both in the courts and in the halls of politics in order to keep the family with her. Everyone, it seemed – the E.C. government, the White Lotus, even the Republic – had wanted to control the boy's upbringing It had taken a lot of her money and all of her influence (and that of her friends, such as Air Abbess Jinora, and Mako: a former President of the U.R.) to establish and defend the family's right to self-determination. To the fury of many, the child-Avatar and his parents became her permanent houseguests; virtually members of her family.
Since that time the boy had lacked for nothing. Recalling Korra's early frustration at her relative lack of formal education as a youngster (although by the end of her life she had earned several advanced degrees), Asami had engaged the finest tutors available to instruct Taro in a broad selection of arts, sciences, and other academic topics. Bending instructors were easier to acquire, of course: Asami just had to look to her large network of friends and family. Suiting his heritage, Taro had begun with earthbending under Bolin. Mako had threatened to barbecue anyone else that tried to teach the Avatar the ways of fire. Jinora had passed the task of airbending-instructor to her son Marpa, who had a natural gift for teaching and a way with children. And Taro had been blessed – or cursed—with two waterbending tutors: Desna and Eska, formerly co-Chiefs of the Northern Water Tribe (before it became, with the SWT, the Unified Water Alliance).
To date, Avatar Taro had had the luxury of attending to his education and training in relative peace. But, Asami fretted, that was likely to change soon. Since Jinora's death, the divisions between the Air Nomad factions had grown worse. It seemed inevitable that the Moderate Traditionalists, the Modernists, and the Reactionaries would lead to schism…. possibly even to violence. As ever, if the worse happened; it would be the Avatar's task to seek peace if possible, or restore balance however necessary.
"Ma'am? You called for me?" Taro's voice, though louder, was still patient as he tried to recapture her attention.
Cursing her woolgathering, Asami refocused on the young man. My, but he was a work of art! She was so proud of helping him become.
"Taro. Thank you. I'll be needing your help later tonight, for a little while…" She explained.
He was reluctant, at first. But in the end, he succumbed. The Avatar had never been able to resist her, after all…
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Air Temple Island:
It was a long climb up those stairs, even with her cybersuit. The close-fitting machine garment, largely concealed under her loose black and red gown, supported her body and lent her strength and balance she hadn't truly possessed in many years. It responded to her brain's commands through a tiny plug inserted into a surgically implanted socket at the base of her skull, hidden by her still-thick, snowy hair.
But the stone risers seemed to rise higher and steeper than when she had tripped up and down them so very carelessly as a teen girl.
"Mother, slow down. You could fall."
"I'm fine, honey."
Nonetheless, Kyomen hovered by her side. Taro walked behind them both, several steps lower in their wake, eyes downcast.
They reached the top at last. Asami hadn't been here for many years. It was a mixture of the old and new: many of the buildings she had first known had been damaged or destroyed by Leviathan. New construction had replaced it, more or less harmoniously. And of course, the Air Nation had long outgrown the place and moved to a spacious new Temple high on the peak of Chobo-ji, near Republic City. The old island Temple was now a combination retirement-home and child-rearing crèche for the Air folk.
Asami turned and looked out over the bay at the city's skyline: the glowing column of the Spirit Portal lancing up into the clear night sky. It was such a lovely evening. She turned to Kyomen.
"You should go now, son." They had already said everything that needed to be said, back at the house.
"I don't want to leave. Please, don't make me." Asami felt her face soften.
"All right, honey. But you have to stay out of the way, OK?" She looked around at the nearby park-like grounds, trying to remember old times, and pointed. "There. Go over there, under that orange tree. That's about right." She smiled. "As I recall, that's a good place for pesky old men to go stand when they won't get shooed off properly!"
Mother and son embraced, and then he left. Asami could hear him weeping softly.
She turned to Taro. "It's time." The Avatar opened his mouth, and the old woman said, almost harshly "Don't ask me again if I'm certain. It's time."
Taro held out his hand and she shook it. "Thank you for all you have done. It has been an honor to know you."
He helped her to sit, and then sat beside her on the top step. The Avatar bowed his head as if in deep thought, and when he looked up his eyes shone white in the Avatar State. Then the glows 'bled' from his eyes to cover first his face and head, then his shoulders, and finally his whole body. He glowed like a pale sun come down to earth, and Asami had to turn away away, watching the stark shadows cast by the light. Then the glow lessened and the shadows faded, and Asami trembled as she turned back to look.
To look at Korra.
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She was achingly young and beautiful, twenty-one again, and even clad once more in that hideous "Water Tribe inspired" sack-dress that Asami had found so gorgeous at the time, because of the woman it had contained.
For the passing of an age they just… looked... at each other. Then they came crashing together in a desperately tight embrace. There really was nothing that needed to be said: it had all been said many times, long ago. Asami could barely feel Korra through the damn cybersuit. But even feeling a tiny bit of her life's love was better than feeling all of anything else. Finally, they drew apart from one another.
Korra spoke, voice full of joyful anguish. "Now?"
"Now, please."
Korra leaned back on the step, propping herself on her arms. When she spoke again, her voice was nearly devoid of inflection.
"So, what now? Back to the dance floor?" she asked, beginning the ritual. For their whole lives together, 'getaways' had begun just like this. At first it was just a joke. Then it became a running gag. Transforming into a tradition, it had ended after decades as an unbreachable custom of their two-person tribe.
"I'm kind of all danced out." Asami strove for composure, but her voice was already thickening and tears gathered in her eyes. ""Honestly, after everything that's happened the past… few months… I could use a vacation."
"Let's do it." Korra was losing her grip as well. She looked down, shoulders shaking. "Let's go on a vacation… just the two of us. Anywhere you want."
"Really?... OK... I've always wanted…" she swallowed once, and met Korra's gaze directly. " I've always wanted… to see what the Spirit World is like."
"Sounds perfect." said the Avatar, blue eyes pouring like rivers.
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The Republic City Spirit Portal:
Walking hand-in-hand with Korra, feeling the soft, warm miracle of her smooth skin against her own; Asami felt her heart lift with excitement, anticipation, and… joy, like music. It seemed like forever since she'd felt pure joy, but here it was, welling up inside, and pacing beside her.
As though choreographed, they turned towards one another while stepping into the Portal and now clasped both hands between them as they looked into each others eyes. Asami, looking down at the shorter woman through the shimmering green and yellow spirit-energy, found herself breathless and mute, and strove to communicate her feelings through gaze alone.
Korra must have understood, or felt similarly overcome, because she answered without words. She rose to Asami, sapphire eyes shining, and Asami felt herself bending to meet her, closing her own green eyes as their hands gripped tighter.
Their lips met softly. Asami, as always, felt her heart stop.
And then, joyously, she triggered the lethal feedback routine she had rigged into the cybersuit, and her heart beat nevermore.
END
Author's Notes:
This was difficult to write, emotionally, as anyone who loves these characters can well understand. But the idea took hold of me, and had to come out… so I took a brief break from writing BOOK FIVE: GROWTH to put it down on pixels. I hope you all like it as agonizingly as I do.
Review if you would like to. No flames, please.
I own no part of Avatar. Please don't sue me.