"Let's go again."

Asami brings her hands up to her hair, fashioning a messy tail close to her nape that for the most part keeps dark locks out of her face. Meanwhile across from her Asami's sparring partner tiredly pushes off the ground, a tilt of the head to either side followed by a roll or two of the shoulders. Asami strikes up a stance and her opponent takes theirs, and then after a steadying breath and an exchange between a pair of narrowed eyes, the two fling themselves at each other.

It doesn't take long for the fight to go to the ground, whereupon Asami swiftly ends it. Her whole body is wrapped around her opponent's left arm, hips just behind the joint of the elbow and long, bare limbs that extend out from the bottom of her shorts draped over their face keeping them exactly where Asami wants. Of course this is only sparring, so they aren't trying to hurt each other. Which is why her partner is trying to muscle out of the lock, attempting to swing a free arm over Asami's legs and grab at the wrist hugged securely to her chest. Given enough time and effort they'd probably succeed; Asami doesn't match up in terms of raw strength. So she gives her partner a gentle, very brief reminder of what she can do.

"Argh! Uncle uncle!"

Asami's already let up before they finish practically screaming. "Goodness, Korra," she chuckles, unwrapping her legs, "anyone would think I'm trying to kill you."

Korra pouts. "That felt like my arm was about to snap in half."

"Nonsense," Asami says as she sits up, "I wouldn't take it that far. Besides, you didn't know when to quit. I had you beat."

"You don't quit in the middle of a fight."

"We're not fighting," Asami replies, watching as Korra once again pushes off the ground. "We're sparring."

"Same difference," Korra says impatiently. "Come on, one more round."

Asami delays the inevitable, offering up a crooked smile. "You sure? I've won every single one so far."

"Warm ups. Been feeling you out. This is the only one that counts."

Asami shrugs and holds up a hand for Korra to pull her to her feet. "If you say so."

A minute later Korra is flat out on her back, pinned to the mat by her wrists and Asami's weight squarely on her hips. She doesn't even try to fight back. Asami smirks down at her.

"You were saying?"

"I give up. You win."

"Oh? What was all that before, about not quitting?"

"You're obviously better than me."

Asami chuckles softly. "Well that's no surprise. You're still throwing out strikes as if there's something extending six feet off the end of them."

Korra arches her brow. "What does that mean?"

"You're fighting like a bender," Asami replied. "I promised my father that would be a fight I'd never lose."

She straightens then, releasing Korra's arms. The act exposes the flesh of her wrists, but thanks to a quiet visit to a waterbender the pink rings that once marred them have faded away. Those questions are forgotten now, but even had she remembered them the sight of Korra lying underneath her serves to be quite distracting. The rise and fall of her chest, trapped in a now damp vest that perhaps fits a little too well; the gleaming sheen sweat affords her skin,and the pulse of a throat drawing Asami's eyes as Korra swallows down air. That would be her first target, where she'd let her lips settle until – and it wouldn't take long – Korra softly whines, melting like chocolate on the tip of her tongue.

But it's only been almost two weeks since they sat together in the lobby of Republic City Police Headquarters, and a rather busy pair for both at that. They haven't had much time to themselves and when they have, all they've done is talk – and not necessarily about the things they need to. This sparring session is as physical as the two have been in a while. So rather than let her hands wander like they sorely want to, Asami uses them to steady herself as she swings a leg over Korra's body and vacates the perch of her hips. Bright blue eyes follow her as she sits down on the mat of her dedicated training room.

"What's up?" Korra asks. "You've a face like you want to say something."

She does, but it takes her a while to actually say it. In the meantime Asami fidgets with her hands, not quite looking Korra in the eye. She wonders if she's lost her mind.

"I want to talk to Kuvira."

Korra has a lot of questions to ask, Asami can see that by the look on her face. However the only one that makes it to her lips is perhaps the simplest and most complicated.

"But...why?"

Asami tells herself it's because all efforts to reverse the effects of the debending machine have ground to an absolute halt and she desperately needs new perspective. She isn't sure what to tell Korra. In fact, Asami initially debated not telling her about her intentions at all. Better not to make the same mistake twice, though. So she tells Korra that this is something she just needs to do.

"Okay. Do you want me to come with? I can clear my schedule."

No, but thank you. She has to do this by herself.

The Chief of Police doesn't think that's a bright idea.

When the door swings open it's more a surprise for the woman who walks through it than the two waiting inside the room.

"Miss Sato?"

Kuvira stops short. She is refused an answer when asking the identity of her visitor, only told that she has one when a pair of metalbenders come to escort her to Chief Beifong's office. She doesn't think to argue and obediently leaves behind the hall in which she has been teaching Republic City's finest. So-called, at least. Given the initial spiel Kuvira is given in briefing before resuming her efforts in passing on the skill of platinumbending, she is led to believe her students are practically prodigies. Either way, Kuvira's quiet frustrations matter very little in the face of what – or rather who sits at Lin's desk in front of her.

"Stop gawking and take a seat," the Chief says, herself leaning against one of the filing cabinets lined up along the side wall.

Eventually, Kuvira does so, the chair's feet scraping across the floor as it slides out from underneath Lin's desk. It's a large desk, but not enough to in any way cut through the palpable tension that hangs in the air between the two women on either side of it. On her side, Asami sits straight-backed with her hands clasped together on top of a black binder. Her hair is neatly pulled back away from her face and the expression that bears is firmly neutral. She gives off the aura of a woman here to do business and nothing more. There is something odd about her eyes however; Kuvira can immediately tell that Asami isn't look at her, but through her.

"I need you to take a look at these documents," she says flatly, turning the binder to face Kuvira and opening it up. "It contains the designs for the debending machine Varrick and I created. I'd like your opinion on them."

Kuvira doesn't even glance at the files as they are pushed across the desk towards her. Instead her eyes remain on Asami, who is now looking slightly past her left ear. The woman frowns.

"I'm not an engineer."

"You worked closely with Baatar, surely you can -"

"I trusted Baatar enough to leave him to his own devices," Kuvira says bluntly. It stings to hear his name; it twists something deep inside to hear it fall from her own lips. "I cared only that his machines worked, not for the technicalities. If that is what concerns you then I'm sure discussing it with him will be a more worthwhile use of your time."

And all it would take is a visit to his cell. Because Kuvira knows Baatar is incarcerated along with her in the same prison. Just as she knows that by the strict instruction of Suyin Beifong, she is never allowed to lay eyes on him ever again.

"That won't be necessary," Asami replies stiffly.

"I can't help you with this," Kuvira says with a shrug, pushing the binder back towards her. "But that isn't why you're here."

"Then why am I?"

"You tell me, Miss Sato."

Asami huffs, abandoning her rigid posture and throwing herself back into her chair. Lin's chair, actually. Who casually reminds the young woman that she'll pay for one custom built to the Chief's comfort if she breaks it. Kuvira in the meantime sits quietly, watching as the younger woman drums her fingers against the edge of the desk. It's an angry, confused rhythm that persists for several seconds, flesh beating against old wood. Until it eventually stops, and Asami finally speaks.

"Korra won't stop talking about you."

Kuvira blinks. "Oh?"

"About your progress," Asami goes on, "as a teacher. She sounds proud of you."

It's true that Korra has been visiting often, certainly not every day but frequently enough over the last two weeks, always with a warm, encouraging smile as she watches Kuvira working with a group of metalbenders. However, 'progress'?

"What progress?" Lin scoffs. "My people still can't lift a scrap of platinum."

"I must agree," Kuvira says plainly, the tail of her braid swaying against her nape when she shakes her head. "Korra speaks too highly of me."

"Then maybe she sees something the rest of us don't."

Asami looks up from her hands then, squarely meeting Kuvira's eyes. This time, she isn't looking past or through her. She's looking right at her.

"My father is dead."

Kuvira doesn't respond, but the implications are clear.

"What would you do," Asami says then, "if you were sitting where I am?"

"I'd kill you."

The woman blinks, her eyes round. She clearly isn't expecting so blunt a response. But then Asami doesn't understand what she's really asking. What would she, Kuvira, do? There is no 'probably', no 'I'd try and...'. The question answers itself, and the woman means every single word of it.

Asami clears her throat, attempting to pick up after her stumble into silence. "Exactly. That's – that's why Lin wouldn't let me meet with you alone."

Kuvira briefly turns her eyes towards the Chief. "Hm."

Lin arches an eyebrow; Asami frowns. "What?"

"You are not an individual with that sort of conviction," Kuvira says.

"Was that a question?"

"No."

Asami's mouth tightens. "Well you're wrong, because I've already done just that. The debending machine? Varrick had lofty ideas about changing the commercial landscape, 'bending in a bottle' as he called it. He could have melted down actual piles of yuans and built himself a mansion with the profits that would rake in. But me?" the young woman says, a raw edge to her voice, "I didn't care about any of that. The only reason I helped him research and build the damn thing was you, Kuvira. So I could use it on you."

"Now we're getting somewhere," Lin mutters from her corner.

Kuvira's expression does not change for the longest moment. She watches Asami, taking note of the way her hands have clenched into fists, digging nails into the flesh of her palm. There's heat in her gaze, a glare that would make anyone else flinch, but moisture too, clinging to the edges by a gossamer thread. However, most importantly, Kuvira sees that she is holding back. And not from leaping across Lin's desk to wrap those trembling hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her eyes, no.

Because that's simply something Asami Sato could never do.

Kuvira leans forward, resting her chin on interlocked fingers. "Did you, really?"

Asami's brow furrows. "Did I what?"

"Did you really intend, after completing development of your machine, to seek me out in prison, drag me out of my cell and strap me into this?" Kuvira says, pointing at the pages of the open binder that lies between them.

Asami has no response, but she does not look at ease.

"Would you have been prepared to activate the machine yourself," Kuvira continues, "to pump countless volts of electricity through my body and make it rattle against that chair?"

Asami's voice is thick when she replies. "I already did, with Bao."

"You only watched. You didn't make it happen."

Lin re-crosses her arms with an impatient roll of the eyes. "Get to the point, Kuvira."

The woman sighs heavily and her gaze drops away from Asami into her own lap. When she speaks, it's in a voice weighted with melancholy.

"I was the Colossus' pilot; every move it made was my decision. I took aim at that factory. I fired the shot that would have killed my fiancé. I wish I didn't, that I couldn't. But I can, and I did."

Kuvira looks up again and, as Lin watches intently, her eyes meet squarely with Asami's.

"I loved that man," the woman says softly, swallowing a lump in her throat. "I still love him. But I don't back away from the hard choices. Were our positions reversed, I'd have told Baatar to fire on me. I would make him do it, because all of it – every last sacrifice I made during my campaign, it was all for the sake of the Earth Kingdom's people. My people. Nothing was more important." she blinks then, and looks away. "Some things...should have been."

"You crossed the line long before you marched that platinum monstrosity into my city, Kuvira."

"I know," she replies to Lin, "I made that choice. I accepted its consequences." She turns to look across the desk. "Could you?"

The silence that stretches between them is poignant, until Asami finally breaks it.

"I can't forget what you did."

"And you won't forgive me either," Kuvira finishes.

Asami doesn't reply.

"I don't expect you to," the woman continues.

"I never said I couldn't. My father...he made his choices in life. I know which ones he regretted, but in the end he made his peace. With himself, and with me," Asami says. "Now, I have to make peace with that."

Kuvira gives her an empty smile. "I don't need seismic sense to tell me you're lying to yourself. Making peace with your father's death is not the same thing as forgiving me. And you shouldn't. No one should. That is something I simply can't earn."

"I thought a shot a redemption was the whole point you're doing all this," Lin interjects plainly. "Isn't that why Korra dragged your ass out of Raiko's office? You were a whole lot more agreeable when you walked back in."

"The Avatar is very persuasive; she says the right things in the moment. But you said it yourself, this isn't working. Your metalbenders can't learn from me."

"Well it's a bit late to start with the whole woe is me routine, Kuvira," Lin replies. "You'd better figure something out. There's no point putting you back in prison now is there?"

"How did you do it?" Asami says then.

Kuvira tilts her head. "Do what?"

"How did you get out of there? As I understand it your entire surroundings down there were made of platinum, essentially taking away your ability to bend. And yet you managed to despite the fact."

Kuvira looks at Asami for a long moment, before her eyes dip to the binder that still lies open between them. "So, this is about the machine."

"Partly," Asami says, followed by a heavy sigh. "Varrick and I have hit a dead end. Our calculations appear at first to check out, but all preliminary tests have failed to produce the desired results. The spirit vines aren't proving cooperative with our methods to extract their stored energy in the form we'd like."

Lin frowns. "Meaning?"

"They explode."

"That's...not good."

"No, it's not." Asami turns to Kuvira. "So I want to know how you did it. It's reaching I know; the circumstances are different. But I just need some new ideas, a different way to look at the problem."

"I think the Avatar's perspective would prove more useful."

"I can't talk to Korra about this. Her loss of bending is my fault. How am I supposed to tell her I don't know how to give it back?"

"We could, now," Kuvira says, indicating herself and Lin.

Asami's glare is sharper than a shard of glass. "Neither of you would be so stupid."

Kuvira sits back in her chair, limbs heavy in a sense of resignation. Like they're chained to walls once more.

"Imagine you are in a room," she says quietly, "a room with no way out."