Asami aches.
She blows back and forth with the wind, too weak to stand on her own. The purple makeup has long faded from her face, redistributed into the deep bags under her eyes. Her hand burns where the taser sat. She can feel the electricity that shot through her father with every move.
It travels from her hand to her arm, and it clutches her heart in its fiery grip.
Mako is like lightning too. He holds her while she falls apart, and he stands tall enough for the both of them. His scarf will soon be stained with her tears.
Yet he hurts her.
Every time he touches her, she burns. Pain shoots through her at the knowledge that he is not the one she wants comforting her. She is a foolish child, and she aches for her daddy.
Asami cries for his strong arms around her. She screams out in the night for the smell of oil and tobacco that she's always found so comforting. She begs for his strong, soothing voice. There has never been anything that could comfort her better.
The nonbender is all too aware that he wants another as well. Without her sense of humor and ache for adventure, she fears she is boring him. She knows he'd rather hug Korra late into the night. She knows he has always had feelings for the young Avatar. Still, she can't leave him. Pretending is easier than the truth.
She has no one left.
Her mother is dead. She has never been able to make many friends. They always turned out to just like her for her money, or they quickly became jealous of her. Asami could not stop boys from staring at her, and she could not control what others thought of her. She knew firsthand how quickly jealousy could kill a friendship.
Asami is lonely.
Her father was the one person who had never let her down. He had never failed her. He held her every time she cried. He talked her through every problem she'd ever had. He did everything for her.
Pema becomes a godsend.
Asami suspects that the young woman sensed that she needed a mother, or maybe she just thought that nonbenders should stick together. She found herself staying in a guest room with a closet full of Pema's pre-maternity clothes; the teen wondered how she'd known how desperately Asami didn't want to go back to her mansion.
Every day, Mako sneaks out just before dawn. Asami wallows in Pema's old pajamas until the mother comes up with a breakfast tray. Her eyes are all knowing but not judgmental. She sits on the bed and talks to her about her life and what she wants for dinner that night. When Asami's eyes fill with tears, Pema wraps her in her arms and allows her to cry into her shirt.
Everything about the woman is sweet and kind and motherly. Her voice soothes Asami, and she holds her just as a parent would. The teen has been without a mother for so long she doesn't remember to feel guilty about replacing her.
Korra becomes a friend.
In the afternoons, once Asami has pulled herself together (sort of), they spar. Korra says nothing about her obvious tiredness. Until the fights, she is jerky and unsure. She moves as if through molasses, broken and tired. She touches her killing hand to her neck lightly. The hand that attacked her father. The hand that doomed him to a life in prison.
As soon as the fight begins, she is transformed.
Korra went easier on her at first, but she quickly stopped. Despite the Avatar's heightened natural abilities, the other woman could do more than just hold her own. She was fast, she was experienced, and more than anything she had too much built up aggression.
There is never a winner. Eventually they just get too tired to get going.
Since the first fight, Korra no longer looks at Asami with sympathy in her eyes. It is empathy, and it is companionship, but it is never pity.
In the evenings, Bolin and the children make a tired smile creep across her face. Asami can see that Jinora was head over heels for the Earthbender. She does her wildest, most impressive airbending moves for him, and Bolin claps and cheers. Still, the nonbender knows he only had eyes for the Avatar. It's made obvious in everything he does, from how desperately he tries to make her smile to how often he stares at her.
Sometimes Asami catches Mako staring at her in the same lovestuck way, and her heart throbs with brief happiness. The lightning that has roped its way around her heart is not pleased with the rebellion; it tightens around her. She loses her breath.
Still, she loves him. Every night that he holds her until she falls asleep, she feels herself fall deeper. He even sleeps with his scarf.
Asami hadn't understood why the scarf was so important. Now she understands. Now she knows that she would die for a pure, painless reminder of what her father had been before.
Now she aches.