(Book 4, episode 2)
Somewhere in the Earth Kingdom
Korra woke to darkness.
It hadn't been the nightmare this time. She had not relived the cold resolve on Zaheer's face, his fervent belief that destroying The Avatar was the right thing to do. There had been no staggering pain of the poison coursing through her as it tore open her mind and left her body raw.
Tonight, she woke to a flush across her skin. A hollow ache in her chest as she took in the room, adjusting to the dark.
For a year, she'd found no rest. Dreamless sleep only came on those nights she was too exhausted to move. Barely making it into the bed. Too broken, too tired to try to heal herself from a fight. Each day was a battle against panic and fear inside of herself, inside the fighting ring. Her dreams were too often filled with the same. The nights that the Red Lotus did not haunt her were few and far between. When her mind was desperate for relief, when it did not replay the trauma of Zaheer's poison, it would conjure a comfortable lie. On those rare, quieter nights, Korra found herself actually wishing for that simple, familiar nightmare.
It tore open fresh wounds every time that Korra woke up to find Asami wasn't there.
In the dream, her bed had been soft. Safe. Her bruises radiated a dull pain across her skin, but gentle hands had soothed it. Korra's body had sunk languidly into the pillows, calmed by the scent of jasmine. The heat of a body against her, breathing her in. Asami's mouth trailing kisses up her spine, to her neck, just below her ear. Leaving red lipstick in her path.
Now awake, Korra flinched at the cramp in her neck. The bed beneath her was a tough mat. The room was not soft or warm. It was hot. Quiet, but in the same way that a coffin or a jail cell could be.
Korra stared at the bare stone ceiling. Her hand stretched out instinctively, feeling the emptiness beside her.
She hurt everywhere. Bones ached. Her face throbbed where the last blow had been struck in her fight. The bruises made her look tougher. It helped with the fighter image, she'd decided. If she couldn't win by strength alone, perhaps she could with intimidation. Being another person. They made her look like somebody else. Hardened, lawless, dangerous. Which was for the best; she certainly didn't feel like Korra right now.
There would be another match in a couple days. What little earning she'd made in the draw tonight would keep her going until then. For now, she would sleep until hunger took over. Then she'd wander out of her room to the road, buy the cheapest thing that came first.
Pushing herself up with a groan, she tried to remember the calm of her dream. Where she had been safe. Touched. Loved.
Korra didn't pull out the letters this time. Tucked under the bed in the only bag she'd packed, they were crumpled and worn from re-reading. Gentle encouragements, pauses written in the right places where she could hear Asami's voice coming through.
She must have been so hurt when Korra disappeared. How much anger, or pain, could there still be with two years now between them?
They had been impulsive, those lies that Korra had woven for the chance to run away. She had told herself that the answers to recovery were out there in the world, that she needed to find herself again. That the others wouldn't understand. But at what point would 'finding herself' turn into never coming home? When would she finally resign herself to cramped, dingy rooms in backwater towns, to being another notch on the fighting circuit wall? Mediocre. Forgotten.
To the world, Avatar Korra was still a mystery, a myth even. But this person, with bruised fists, haunted by her dreams as much as by her nightmares…she was nothing.
Korra felt an all-too-familiar twinge, deep in her chest. It nearly took the wind out of her. She was suddenly back in those early months, when the damage from the poison was still fresh. She'd been so afraid to be weak. So afraid to have failed everyone.
Her heart fluttered anxiously in her chest as the twinge deepened. Was it another injury from the cage match? Maybe Korra hadn't felt it until the swelling had gone down. Could it be a resurfacing symptom of the poison? Of her guilt?
Pressure built up behind her eyes. Tears threatening to fall. Would Korra feel this for the rest of her life? Would panic always grip at her throat? Bring her to her knees?
A deep primal need was scratching its way out. The need to flee out the door, run into the wild, and just disappear. The panic was bubbling to the surface as tears filled her eyes. She had to make it stop.
She was afraid to go back home to face the bitterness, the betrayal that they all must have felt, must still feel. More than that, she was afraid to find that they had all moved on. That in the end, Korra had been a burden on her friends and family, blocking their paths to better lives.
But could she remain here? Beaten and small, with nothing and no one to find comfort in. No family. No friends. Was she stuck at a dead end, haunted by the ghost of what she once was? Would she ever escape it? Would she ever long for sleep again?
Korra's hands gripped the mattress, and she tried to breath. Tried to steady herself. Breathing in. Counting the seconds. She let herself exhale, restarting the count. Her hands pressed either side of her head. Her eyes clamped shut, but tears slipped through.
In the dream, Asami's lips had been soft. Korra had been at peace. They had warmed each other in the night. They had laughed together.
Korra felt like a coward. A foolish child with all the waiting, the hesitating. And then she'd pushed Asami away, when all she'd done to Korra was offer to put her entire life on hold for her.
She threaded her fingers together, trying to remember the pressure of Asami's hand. Korra imagined her sharp smile, her voice that was somehow warm, and kind, and strong all at once. Korra clung to the edges of the dream, but it was fading too fast.
No matter how much pain that dream always dredged up, Korra could never truly wish it away. Laying her head back, slowly, painfully, she tried to will it to return. Wishing for Asami in the dark.