Void
Asami hates the winter.
It reminds her of the South Pole, and it hurts to remember that place.
But the nights are always cold now, no matter the season.
The heat of Mako's naked body flush against hers doesn't change that fact. There's a giant, icy void between them that will never be filled. The void that Korra left behind.
She doesn't turn him away when he comes to her night after night, bleary and despondent. They wouldn't call it making love. But it's filled with too much baggage to be just sex. The struggle is furious and desperate. There's no gentleness. She tries to draw blood when she rakes her nails down his back. He retaliates by biting down on her neck to muffle his screams of regret. The marks left behind are anything but signs of affection. They lash out against one another. Against the universe. Against the unfairness of it all.
He never stays till morning. He knows she doesn't want him to. They both need time to lick their wounds, anyway. The physical ones they inflict on each other between the sheets are just the tip of the iceberg.
When he leaves, Asami wails into her pillow.
Korra's deep blue eyes plague her dreams. The last time she saw them, they sparkled with determination and concern. Concern for her.
"Promise me you'll take care of yourself out there in that hummingbird suit. No unnecessary risks, okay?"
"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that question? You're the one that's going to be taking on Kuvira."
"I'll promise to be careful if you do."
"I do."
They share a tight, lingering embrace.
Asami doesn't want to let go. All she wants is to let the feel of Korra's body and the smell of Korra's hair seep into her bones.
Korra is a part of her. Has been for a while now.
A hopeful feeling in her chest finally convinces her to let go. When this is all over, she'll see Korra again. And the rest of her life can begin.
How could she be so wrong?
They never find Korra's body after the battle. Or Kuvira's. All that's left is a scorched scar in the earth from the spirit weapon. In the smoldering crater they find a burnt piece of Korra's fur liner and one of Kuvira's metal bracers.
On the same day, Asami loses both her father and her . . . (Avatar? Best friend? Girlfriend? Soulmate?) whatever it is Korra was to her. Now she'll never know for sure.
Losing her father is difficult, but it's something she learned to cope with in the years before his actual death. She's been preparing her heart for this moment for a long time.
Korra's death, on the other hand, is something she can't even comprehend.
What do you mean she's gone? It's impossible. This is Korra we're talking about!
Korra can't be dead. She was the Avatar. She was powerful. She was so full of life.
Thinking of Korra in the past tense makes Asami sick to her stomach.
She would rather believe that every fundamental truth she's ever held about the universe is a lie. It would hurt so much less than accepting that Korra's gone.
When the realization finally sets in, it breaks her a little bit. Asami feels like something essential to her soul has been ripped away. She becomes a mere husk of the person she always thought she should be. She's afraid it might be permanent.
Asami is trapped in a state of perpetual mourning. She grieves for her sweet, brave, and kind best friend. She grieves for the love that she'll never be able to properly express. Grieves for the future she always envisioned with Korra's brilliant smile in it. Thinking of all the missed chances and lost opportunities almost drives her crazy.
She stops dreaming about the future. What's the point of one without Korra in it, anyway?
One night, Asami finally utters the silent thought she shares with Mako.
"I can't believe she left us behind."
He turns to look at her. She doesn't miss the disappointment in his eyes of seeing emerald instead of sapphire. She understands the feeling.
"At least we have each other."
There's no comfort in his words. Only sarcasm and regret. She shares the sentiment. No one can replace Korra. She was bigger than life and now they're barely living without her.
"We're just poor substitutes," she replies.
He laughs in agreement. It's hollow and sad.
"Do you think there's anyone else in this world that understands what this feels like?"
They both loved Korra desperately. She can't deny that.
"No, I guess not."
His gaze locks onto hers.
"I know there was something going on between you two."
There's no accusation in his voice. Just an unsaid condolence for what she's lost.
She scoffs at his pity.
"It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore."
It comes out much more bitter than she intends.
Eventually, Asami settles back into the rhythm of existing. Korra's loss still hurts like an open wound, but she no longer feels like she's drowning in her sorrow each day.
The Future Industries CEO slowly retakes the reigns of Republic City's revival. She sees that there's so much left that needs to be done. Asami can't stand the thought of letting everything that Korra fought so hard for just fall by the wayside. So she throws herself into preserving what's left of her best friend's legacy.
It's her penance. A final love letter.
The next handful of years pass by in an agonizingly slow procession.
One day Mako shows up on her doorstep, a rucksack over his shoulder. His golden eyes shine with a determination she hasn't seen in years.
"I'm leaving for Omashu."
Asami doesn't need to ask why. She knows about the news of the new Avatar coming from the Earth Republic. A little girl.
She thinks Mako is on a fool's errand, looking for the woman they love inside a child.
"She's not her, you know."
He sighs, but his gaze remains undeterred.
"I know, but Korra's got to be in there somewhere."
A part of her feels sorry for the new Avatar. So many expectations are already heaped upon her tiny shoulders. She doesn't need Mako or Asami adding to the pile.
"It won't be fair to the kid."
Mako meets her stern glare. She can tell he's set on doing this.
"We need to make sure the new Avatar is safe. We owe it to Korra. We can't fail her again."
Something about his naive hopefulness enrages her. How dare he presume that they even deserve to be at the Avatar's side again? Korra's gone. This little girl deserves to be seen as her own person. Doesn't he get it?
She cuts into him. It's cruel but necessary.
"You're being selfish. You'll just end up confusing that little girl. The new Avatar doesn't need us. It's someone else's job now. We blew our chance, remember?"
He recoils as if she just punched him. She takes an odd pleasure in seeing the hurt and shame spread across his features. It doesn't last long.
When she sees the unshed tears in his eyes, she finds herself involuntarily wrapping him in a tight embrace. It's the first true warmth she's shown him since that fateful day, years ago. Something about his broken look reminds her of how she feels inside. She's so tired of hurting. Now she just wants to heal.
He sobs into her shoulder. Incoherent apologies stumble from his mouth.
"We need to let her go, Mako."
Her voice is soothing. Kind. She hasn't been kind in a very long time.
Asami thinks about Korra and remembers happier days. Days long gone.
But there's a new Avatar now. Korra's spirit is reborn. The world is (only somewhat) whole again.
It'll have to be enough. Perhaps enough so that she and Mako can finally move on.
Asami smiles wistfully.
She prays that this new Avatar and her friends fare better than they did.
A/N: So, um . . . I don't know where this came from. Been listening to too much of the Weeknd I guess.
Review are greatly appreciated!