Okay folks! It's been another year so naturally it's time for me to update the fic! Honestly I really do apologize for the delay between chapters but life has been kicking my ASS. To update you on what's been going on: I've moved, I've started college, and I got a tattoo! Subsequently I have next to no free time in between class, sleeping, and work. The fics are always on mind though and I'm honestly very proud of this chapter. It was very hard to write but despite that I think that it's a good transitional chapter entailing the things that are to come.

I hope you enjoy, and as always, see you next time!

KORRA POV…..

I keep my headphones on for most of the flight, not because I'm really listening to the music but because I don't want anyone talking to me, or if they do, I want them to know that I won't be listening. The events of the last few weeks keep playing like a vinyl record in my mind, scratching and snagging around on the needle. The library, the rape, my family suing that boy and the entire school, really. That still hasn't been solved. Neither has the numb ache in my heart. It's in this moment that I understand why Asami smokes more than she should, drinks herself to sleep; it's better than killing yourself. I rub my temples, trying to subside the negative thoughts for as long as I can and feeling the air expand my lungs as I breathe. I can still breathe.

I refuse to think about Asami any further, I can't, my eyes feel itchy and bulbous already. It would be even worse to be that stranger crying on the plane.

I'm not sure how long but eventually we land in Toronto, and my parents are surprisingly some of the first people I see, waiting for me at the airport terminal. I immediately start to cry, and I don't want to. I really don't want to. But I can't stop it, and when I run to my father he wraps his strong arms around me. No words are said, no "Welcome home," no "We've missed you." This is not a happy reunion. They know that this was not my plan and that I ultimately don't want to be here, but I have to be. I can't survive anywhere else right now.

…..

Home usually has a particular smell. Home is the smell when you walk in the door and you just sometimes have to take a moment and stand there. Because, well, the memories have a smell, and whether it's realized or not, smell is one of the most intense reminders of memories. But when I walk into the door, I don't stop and smell the home that I ran around in up until I left for college, I don't remember the talks in the kitchen when I had fights at school, and I don't remember the warm hugs my family and I shared. I don't even acknowledge Naga as I take an immediate path up the stairs to my room. This evokes a whine from my old companion, knowing that something is wrong. Come to think of it, I don't think my family and I have said a word, not even a hello, since I've arrived. If they've tried I haven't heard. I'm sure they've tried. I feel like I can hear a faint word from my father and a sob from my mother downstairs before I close the door to my room.

I'm so sorry.

I'm so very, very sorry.

Please don't pity me.

I didn't mean for this to happen.

….

In the next few days I'm not sure when I eat, and I can't tell if I'm sleeping too much or not enough. I don't know how often I've bathed, I'm confident I'm bathing occasionally at least, which raises question to me when I find myself in the bathroom, eyeing a razor blade in my right hand and the plastic sheath that housed it in my left. I don't need to go into much detail here, come on. We all know what happens. I've hit rock bottom. I know I have. I don't need to pretend that I haven't.

I have.

Asami begged me to get up and shower, converse, and at least pretend to go about the day back when she was around. No, I need to correct myself. Back when I was around. But without her I don't know what I'm doing.

..

"Korra," I hear a soft voice say. "Baby, please, you need to get up." I crack my eyes open, hearing a silky voice with long black hair, blood red lips.

Asami, I've missed you. I reach up to move a lock of midnight hair from her face and end up missing, glitching my hand through her hair and effectively snapping myself back to reality.

"Korra." Not Asami. Mom. "Honey." Her eyes look tired, I'm not sure how I look. "It's time to get up, how about I help you get a bath this time, huh?" That's just her way of telling me I smell really bad.

I nod, and both of her steady arms help me out of the bed. Holy shit, I'm so heavy.

We make it across the hallway to the bathroom, where Mom's expression changes quickly from neutral worry to fear as she helps undress me. My eyes widen when I look down and see my ribs more easily exposed, and even further to see cut marks on my thigh. They don't look good. Shit, I should have thought about this before I agreed for her to help me bathe. This is when she gets angry.

"Korra, what in spirits' name?!" She yells at me, slapping me on the cheek enough to make my head turn. I absorb most of the blow, which really wasn't hard at all, much softer than what I've endured before, but I find it hard to keep my balance and end up tumbling over. I manage to not hit anything important on the way down, but the fall is awkward and my elbow hits the tiled floor with a dry thud.

"Oh no," she whispers, obviously regretting her anger. I hear her begin to sob, sitting on the bathroom floor and reaching for, then cradling my body the way she would a child. "I'm so sorry baby. I'm so sorry." The majority of the rest of our conversation is spoken in my native language. Emotions are more easily expressed this way for my mother. And even though I'm a bit larger than her I feel so much smaller in this moment.

"No, mom, I'm sorry." I don't know if these are the first words I've said since I arrived here a few days… a week ago? "I'm so sorry. I didn't- I didn't want anything bad to happen and now I've ruined everything."

"No, baby, none of this is your fault. You know that, don't you?"

"But I've left everyone, and I haven't called them or anything like I wanted to, and I don't even know what day it is or if I've eaten or slept enough, mom. I'm in a complete freefall."

She brushes a lock of my hair away from my eyes, eyes glassed over just slightly. Staying strong for me. "Let me tell you something, Korra. None of us thought anything this terrible could happen either, and nothing is easy for this family right now, but that doesn't mean that we can give up. And even if you have a hard time living, it would be harder for me to give up on you, even in this state. It will get better, because it has to. If all of your friends are really your friends, and if Asami really loves you, they'll all wait. I promise."

I look down at the clean tile and nod, tears streaming quietly down my cheeks.

"Let me help you clean up, then?" I nod again.

ASAMI POV….

I sit at my desk, two pieces of paper folded into an envelope, one neat stamp placed in the upper right hand corner. I've made a lot of questionable decisions in the past week, but I've managed to make it to most of my classes and pretend that I give half a shit. Korra's name has been floating around campus quite a bit, about her and the group of boys that did those horrible things to her in the library. I only remember hearing once that, "It was probably half her fault anyway, she's hot as hell and the guys probably couldn't help it." I don't remember too much, just that the guy's look of fear right before I punched him was enough of a reminder for him to not say anything like that ever again. I probably yelled a lot too, because when I came back into focus I was breathing heavily and my face felt hot, and a few people that were walking nearby looked at me, some with appreciation, some with fear. It wasn't a secret on campus that Korra and I were dating, but I don't think people expected this level of rage from me.

"Don't ever put her name in your mouth again, you fucking garbage fire." I yelled at him before spitting on the ground near him in his huddled position. Then I walked away. I didn't cry until later. Then I came home, and after an hour long cry session, five beers, and a cigarette on the balcony of the dorm, I figured the least I could do was write Korra a letter.

Korra,

I hope that all is well. Let me... rephrase that. I know everything probably isn't well, but I hope that you're surviving. Nothing is really going amazingly over here, but I guess I'm surviving as well. I'm passing my classes, at least. I keep the thermostat set low now, thanks for helping me pick up that habit btw. At least it's cold where you are, hopefully.

Sorry for the small talk. I don't know. You don't have to reply to this, please just focus on I guess getting it all together and taking the next step to being back to where you need to be. The most important thing for you to remember is that I still love you and I'll be waiting for you. Please just care for yourself. Love,
Asami

The second half of the envelope is a letter from Bolin, I didn't bother reading it but I'm sure

he did his damndest to try and make it cheerful. I just don't have that in me right now.

KORRA POV….

The next six months go by faster than I think they should, or even faster than I think physically possible. That's not a good thing. Not that I haven't made progress, because I have, but nothing really important. I still cry myself to sleep many nights, I don't speak that often, and I have no real grip on time or reality at all. I've received several letters, yet I can't find it in myself to open any of them. All but a few are signed in a beautiful flowing cursive, 'Korra'. I feel nothing shy of pathetic.

The next six months go by.

Then another six months go by.

A full year and a half I have been back home and I still have no fucking clue… none at all what I'm doing, how I'm doing it, or how I could even begin to pull myself out of the miserable fucking hole I'm in. My parents are patient as always, listening to me when I'm willing to talk, giving me advice when I'm half willing to listen. They know that I have to push through this myself.

Things come to a standstill until one night. Then they begin moving like gears in a clock. But spirits, the clock is old and so, so tired.

I'm out late at night, Naga sitting by my feet and thumping her tail against the porch floor. Suddenly her head snaps up, and she lets out a low and serious 'woof.' Her voice is quiet and deep at first, but then she stands to her feet and suddenly lets out an excited yip. She's running off in one single direction before I can react, knowing exactly where she wants to go.

"Naga!" I yell out, but she couldn't care less about anything I have to say. It's the dead of winter, and I'm outside in a thick shirt and trousers, with a beanie carelessly placed over my hair. This is what justifies me chasing her, the fact that I'm already dressed and that I need to know what she's searching for. Maybe I'll be searching for the same thing.

"Naga, wait up, girl!" I yell, chasing after her as fast as I can. This is when it becomes painfully obvious to me that I'm not in the shape that I once was. All this time, all this progress and I'm not even close. My muscles are tight and rigid and cold, and I have to force them twice as hard to move even half the speed that they once went. But Naga is always on the edge of my vision, taunting me, teasing me forward.

By the time I catch up to Naga, she looks back at me and wags her tail furiously. Part of me wonders if she was searching for anything after all. Maybe she just wanted to know if I would chase her.

I sit down in the thick snow. I'm gulping air at this point, heaving and seeing my breath pool like smoke in the air. I find that we're overlooking an oversized, frozen- over pond. We're probably a good couple miles from home, but Naga doesn't seem to be worried. And at this point it's like I notice one thing at a time: the pond, the thick, overlapping snow, the vast sky above me and all the stars that inhabit it. I flop back into the snow with a satisfying dry thump and Naga looks back at me once.

The moon is so beautifully full.

And I'm not dead, not right now.

In this moment I feel particularly alive.

"Thank you, girl," I say, giving her a gracious pat on the head. And I feel like she knows what she's done. She seems very proud.

…..

I've had to overcome obstacles before, hell, maybe my life has been one big uphill climb, but not like this. Not anything like this. I have to fight every day to get out of the bed, do something, anything, and work not just my body but my mind. I think my parents begin to notice my change as well, probably almost as immediately as I notice it. Maybe it's when I wake up before them one morning and make a pot of coffee.

"Couldn't sleep?" My dad says gruffly, running his hand over a sizeable amount of scruff on his face. He likes to grow out a winter coat, I think.

"Nope," I say, sitting on the counter with the cup in my hand. "I figured I might as well get up."

"Well, it is six after all, you want to get out today?" He asks, his tone saying that he mostly expects me to turn him down. I have before.

"What did you have in mind?" I set the coffee cup in the sink as he fills his up. "I'll try."

He stops mid pour and I see a smile make its way on his lips. If I didn't know better I'd say that he was holding back tears.

"Well, we could use some wood for the fireplace. I know a bunch of logs in the woods that are begging for that job." A pause. "It'll be a lot of physical labor." What he doesn't say: your muscles aren't as strong as they used to be.

I shrug, walking out of the kitchen and up to my room to change out of my pajamas. "Maybe it won't kill me." As I walk up the stairs I realize that it might've been too dry to say something like that, but I decide against apologizing. Maybe I'll get around to it later.

…..

The truck is old and blue, and the heat doesn't work in it at all. I think that one of the tires is completely flat as well, but it manages, somehow, with some time, to make it out into the absolute center of the forest.

He gets out and removes both a chainsaw and an axe from the bed of the truck before setting them down next to the nearest fallen tree in front of us. For a minute I get out of the car and just let myself stand in the snow, enjoying the complete absence of sound. I think I hear deer chirp in the distance, but otherwise my father and I are alone. He begins chopping the tree without asking me to join him.

"You think it's my fault?" I ask, walking near him. I put my hands in my pocket to try and hide as many of my insecurities as possible in my body language. It's also very cold out here.

"What's your fault?" He asks, looking up and giving me a slight smile that turns into a tight line. He knows, of course he knows. I'm sure he's been thinking about how to speak about this to me for so long. A deep sigh.

"Korra, sit down," he asks me, sitting on the fallen tree and patting to the spot beside him, and I oblige. "When I heard what happened to you, I bought a plane ticket." He pauses, tightens a fist. I raise my eyebrows silently. "I was determined that I was going to go down to your school and destroy every single boy, man, and policy that hurt you there. I still have the plane ticket. Your mother was the only reason that I didn't go. And I mean," He grits his teeth, "The only reason." He pauses again, except this time it's to sniff. "So because I knew that I couldn't do a damned thing, I came out here and destroyed a few acres of forest." I look at him with furrowed eyebrows. "I did. I'm sure it was loud and I'm sure I scared away everything within a three mile radius. But you're my daughter. Even if you were my son first, you've been my daughter for so long that I've nearly forgotten about it. My son was a little boy: you're a grown woman. I just- I just don't know how someone could hurt another person like those people hurt you." He stops for a final time, looking away from me. "I just don't get it." He's crying. "But to answer your question. No. It isn't your fault."

My father and I have a very nurturing relationship, but we don't usually hug. We don't really show that much physical affection. He usually comforts me by just using his words and his kind smile. That's why I startle when he puts an arm around me.

"It's my job to protect you. I couldn't do that. So for that, I'm sorry, Korra." I don't reply, but somehow, the emotions that I've managed to bury for over a year come out. Not slowly; all at once. I find myself crying my eyes out into his jacket, soft wool dampening from my tears and his own. Amidst the crying I manage to form a sentence: "It isn't your fault either, dad."

Maybe we went out here to chop some wood, but I think that we ended up doing something much more necessary. After both of us finish crying, we decide that we can at least chop up a few logs and come out here another day to get it finished.

When we come back inside, Mom's sitting inside at the table. Her cup of coffee that had once been warm is now ice cold, and as soon as she hears the door open she spins around and runs up to us, a bit of fear in her eyes, a bit of worry. Mostly anger.

"Where have you two been?!" She says worriedly, scolding us. "I woke up and everyone was gone."

My dad opens his mouth but I end up speaking before he gets around to it. My mother's eyebrows raise when I tell her about the coffee, the firewood invite, the part where I actually went along with it. Then her face softens when I tell her that we finally talked about the issues that have been looming for so long over our heads. I don't see her cry, maybe because she's so quickly buried her face in both me and my father's shoulders. But she does say one thing, and it makes me sad; it makes me think about all the strain that I've really put on both of my parents.

"I was starting to think that you'd never get better or even want to. Now I see that you're still in there." She removes herself from the hug and points a finger to my heart, a warm smile on her face. "I'm proud of you."

Just because I begin to get better doesn't mean that I feel better every day. Some days I think that I've gone all the way back to square one. I still think about what I've left behind. Not just what, but who I've left behind in particular. Asami fucking Sato. The most perfect woman that I've ever seen, and not just because of her body, spirits no. She's also the kindest person I've ever met, the best thing that I've been given in my life. Being away from her has made me realize that I wasn't nearly as kind to her as I could have been. Sure, I was fine, but I wasn't good enough.

Which brings up another good question: will she ever take me back if I ever get back on my feet? I still haven't answered any of her letters, I haven't had it in me to do it. But spirits, have I wanted to. I really have.

ASAMI POV….

It's summer. It's hot. Jesus Christ is it hot. I've been smoking more. That's probably the least disgusting thing I've done in the past… well, almost two years. I managed to finish college somewhere along the way, not entirely sure when, but there's that. It hasn't all been bad, though. I still have Bolin and Mako. We all live in the same apartment complex, decided that it wouldn't be quite the same if we didn't live in each other's general vicinity. I have known them since grade school, after all. Every now and then, though not as much anymore, I still write to Korra. I still think of her sometimes. Though I know that I've buried a lot of my feelings for her deep, deep down, I still care for her. I might even go as far as saying that I still love her. Not sure if she'd want me anymore at this point though, after all the things I've done, people I've slept with, choices I've made. I can't even remember the nights that I was in someone else's bed and dreamt of her despite it all. I tried men and that didn't feel right. Then I tried women, but that was just as obviously wrong. Now I'm just trying.

Apart from my personal life, I did manage to find a job that I'm definitely skilled enough for. I'm really just getting into it at this point, but I'm pretty sure I'm better than half of the old and grey- haired architects there.

If I really admitted it to myself, which I won't, I would say that I'm sad. I'm depressed. Many people don't know, but Mako, Bolin, and Opal know. They see it in my eyes, that I miss what happened to a perfect thing. If Korra walked into my house in five minutes, though, I don't know what I would do. My heart would tell me to take her back instantly, but my head would fight against that offer. It would take time. I've thought about it. Maybe we could work things out. But then I get so frustrated because fuck! She won't even return my letters! Who's to say she's even fucking interested in me anymore.

My Korra, the one that I knew, the one that I loved?

Well, she could very well be dead.

…..

KORRA POV….

Tears aren't beautiful. I've read them described as beautiful things, as 'marbles cascading down a woman's cheeks' or 'a river of emotions that ceased to begin or end' and they aren't beautiful. Those damned poets that wrote those just loved to justify and clarify pain. There's no need for that. Tears are tears. They are a human's natural response to pain, maybe emotional, maybe physical. Hell, sometimes they just show up for no reason.

Why, then, do they hurt so much?

I finally decided that I would sit down and read one of Asami's letters one night. The key word here is one. But one turned into two and two turned into ten, and by the end of just the first one I was crying my eyes out. By the end of the second I could hardly see. By the tenth, I felt like my heart was on fire, and that my brain was drowning. I tried to come back sooner, Asami, I really did. Don't you believe me? I'm not gone, I'm not dead, but I'm still drowning. I'm trying to reach the surface, my lungs are heaving, and I'm taking mouthfuls and lungfuls of water and I feel like I've been alone for so long. When I come back, just promise me one thing: that you'll take the broken pieces in your hands, even if they pierce your skin, even if they make you bleed, even if they hurt. Promise me you'll take them as they are.

ASAMI POV….

"Asami, hey, I think this is something you'd want to see," Mako's voice filters through the headphones that I'm wearing, not doing much but listening to an old music video.

I turn my head to see his eyebrows knit close together, holding out an old, crumpled envelope. It looks like it's come a long way.

"You wouldn't believe who it's from."

….

Dear Asami,

I don't blame you if you hate me. I've just read the letters. After all this time and I've just now read the letters. And you don't have to believe me when I say that I'm sorry, but I am. I tried to stop reading them once I started, but I couldn't, because they were so you and so, so hurt. I know that I wasn't the initial cause for all of this pain, but I've been gone for so long. It's a secondary kind of pain, but it still hurts just as much as the initial kind.

It probably prompts the next question: do I still love you, and do I still care? The answer to both of those is definitely yes. I think about you every day, but I don't blame you if you've stopped thinking of me.

I'm not healed, and I don't know if I'll ever be the same, but as far as being better goes, I think that I'm on my way. Finally. The other reason that I'm writing to you is to let you know that I'll be coming back for a little while. I don't know if I'll find it in myself to stay, but I'm trying. My plane comes in on November 30. My ticket says I'll arrive roughly at noon so if you want to see me then please do. I don't blame you if you don't want to but yeah.

I love you and hope to see you soon,

Korra

I look up and immediately start crying, and Mako brings me a tissue and gives me a somewhat stiff but still warm hug. He usually isn't the emotionally reassuring type, but this is a big deal and he knows it.

"Mako, I don't know what to do."

Mako takes a deep breath and places his palm on my cheek. "Asami, you know what to do. You go to the airport at the date and time she specified. You see her. You see what happens. God knows that you won't be able to live with yourself if you don't do it."

….

KORRA POV…..

"Naga, heel," I command, pointing to my toes as she snaps to my side. After realizing that Naga helped speed up my recovery, I decided to recruit her as my service animal. She's still in training as far as everything goes, but she's decent at helping me through a panic attack so, yeah.

Naga pants excitedly by my side as I wait for my luggage to slither its way around the conveyor belt, arms crossed around my middle. Everything about right now is making me jittery: the unseasonable heat, the mass of people shuffling throughout their lives, the thought that Asami could be damn near within spitting distance from me. To be honest I was disappointed when I didn't see her immediately outside of the gate, but I can't say that I didn't expect it. I've been gone for so long. My only hope is that she's around here somewhere, gathering the courage or stuffing down the anger to say hi to me.

ASAMI POV….

"FUCK!" I scream, honking my horn at the person in front of me, knowing damn well that they can't do anything about the wreck up ahead either. What was supposed to be a thirty minute drive to the airport easily turned into an hour drive to the airport. After I had decided that I was going to, despite it all, go and see Korra at the airport, the universe had to fuck me over. I light a cigarette and pray that things will go at least well enough for me to see here somewhere, whether it be exiting the terminal, by the conveyor belt, or hanging outside waiting for a taxi. I want to see her again.

I want to see her again.

After that realization hits me I manage, somehow, to keep myself composed while managing not to be upset at her for the years of neglect and isolation. I may find it in myself later to blame her, but I can't right now.

KORRA POV…

"Guess I really fucked up the past couple years, didn't I girl?" I sigh haphazardly at Naga and I get a content huff in return. She simply slumps next to me while I sit on the bench outside of the airport, debating whether or not to call a taxi or an uber to pick me up. Getting an Uber would probably be more economical but taxi rides are reminiscent of old tv shows and I'm pretty into that. Guess I'd rather have Asami pick me up but still.

I fight against myself for a solid ten minutes before going back inside to order a coffee from the nearest kiosk. I order the strongest coffee on the menu, not caring that it tastes less than savory, and makes me jittery fifteen minutes after I resume my seat outside. It does its job and I can applaud it for that.

ASAMI POV…

"Where could she be?" I all but chant to myself as I drive, albeit a little fast, down the pick up lines near the terminal when I notice a clump of cloud sprawled out in a patch of sunlight near a bench. One glance over and I see a hunched figure, derived in my wildest dreams and reminiscent of the best time of my life. But she's thinner, less defined than she used to be. Muscles that used to gleam are still noticeable but not much more than what her genetics yield.

"Korra.." I whisper, nearly ramming into the car in front of me. I slam on the breaks and the car behind me honks its horn. I instinctively shoot my hand out the window, giving a less than savory reaction of my frustration. And of course I'm just close enough to her to gain an attentive glance, then a second one as she sees my car. She stands and the cloud, I mean Naga, shoots her head up and give a preemptive woof.

As soon as I reach Korra I pull my car over, getting out and shutting the door. Korra looks back at me as I make my way to her, but she looks so tired. Even through the raised eyebrows she looks so tired.

"Korra.."

KORRA POV…

"Asami?"

Suddenly I feel engulfed by warmth as Asami all but slams her body into mine, pressing up against me in a very intimate way and it takes all that I have to not completely lose myself in the way that we fit so well together. She still smells the same. Okay, granted that she smells more of cigarette than she used to but it's still there. After she lets go of the hug, she holds me at arms length and seems to examine me more closely. Naga gives an excited bark and wags her tail to bring me out of my entranced state induced by emerald eyes and and lemongrass shampoo. I manage to be the first to speak.

"Well, aren't you looking… snazzy?" I mouth at her, noticing her business suit as an afterthought. But I'm thinking that it's better to comment on her outfit rather than the other thoughts going through my head.

"Oh, this?" she asks as she pulls at her collar, taking half a step back. "Yeah, I managed to get out of work early. I'm sorry, I really meant to meet you at the terminal but traffic was a whole bitch."

"It's fine," I stutter out. "I was actually about to get a cab but now I guess I don't have to."

She simply nods and gives me a small smile before patting Naga on the head a few times.

"Well, now that I'm here how about we get your luggage," a pause, "and of course Naga," another pat on Naga's head, "into the car and we can decide where to go from there. We certainly have a lot to catch up on."