[AN] Totally loving the crazy mad and/or thoughtful reviews. Here's more content for your grist...

:)

I'm only vaguely conscious when I hear the radio come to life.

"Incoming ship, this is United Forces command. You are approaching Terran airspace. Please identify."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Kuvira growls tiredly before she flipped on her comm, "This is what's left of Foxtrot niner three five, Command. On approach, requesting clearance to land."

There's a crackling pause, then a muffled curse, then a new, familiar voice comes on the comm. "You're missing a ship, niner three five, not to mention your ID signal."

"Copy that, Command. Will I be forgiven if I report that I am not, repeat, not missing a pilot and my ship, apparently including my signal box, was damaged?"

There's a relieved grunt by Admiral Izumi. "Tell Avatar I'm taking the cost of her fighter out of her next paycheck."

I would roll my eyes at that, but I'm too beat to respond. Kuvira hasn't said anything, but I know she's been worried about me ever since she hauled me out of my dead fighter and somehow wiggled me into her jump chair. This is confirmed with her reply.

"You're a peach, Admiral. If you can forgive her long enough, could you have a medic team meet us at the landing pads and maybe make a call to the Doc?"

I hear muffled orders being given, then she's back. "This was supposed to be a re-con mission, you idiots. Medic team en route."

"You know us," Kuvira drawls, but I've known her a long time and despite my general state of fuzzy brain I can tell she's still tense. "Always looking to make things exciting."

"I'm not excited, Lieutenant Colonel," Izumi says briskly. "I'm annoyed. See you planet-side. Command out."

"Copy and out," Kuvira mutters as she clicks the comm off. "Hey, Avatar, almost home. You with me back there?"

I struggle to form words. "Hear—you loud— Boss," I finally manage. "Tired."

"Stay with me, now, Avatar," she growls. "Almost home."

"Copy—" I murmur, but another few breaths finds darkness overtaking me.

—

I awake to the sound of my girlfriend's voice.

"—adjust the IV fluid, as well."

"Yes, doctor." There's a few moments of rustling near my head, then a sound of retreating footsteps.

I blink, then stare at the ceiling for a long, blurry moment. My head still hurts and my prosthetic eye seems to be offline. A wave of vertigo washes over me, and I groan.

Instantly Asami's at my side. "Welcome back, Colonel. Let me have a look at you."Asami's tone is brutally professional. Her glasses are on but there's a clipboard in one hand, and a pen in the other. She doesn't let go of either.

I wince. I think I'm in trouble.

"Your prosthetic eye received some damage, in case you noticed the lack of binary vision. It has been repaired." She peers over the chart and frowns at me. "You also needed three new connector bolts in your shoulder." She turns to hang the clipboard back on the end of my bed. "Doctor Moon will be assisting you."

Yep, definitely in trouble.

"Asami," I start to whine.

She's already turning away, but I can now hear the catch in her voice. "If you'll excuse me, Colonel, I have other patients."

My heart lurches in my chest. "Baby," I pause, now realizing the depth of her emotion. "I'm so sorry for scaring you."

She doesn't turn around but she does stop, one hand on the door. There's a long pause, then she says. "I— just give me a little time."

"As long as you need, Doc. I'm not going anywhere," I throw a little emphasis on that last comment, and she nods jerkily.

"I know," she takes one more step, then hesitates. "I'm not either."

"Oh hello, Doctor Sato!" I hear Doctor Moon arrive. "Is she ready for me?"

Asami takes the opportunity to escape. "All yours, Doctor Moon."

I sigh. My first mission off planet in two years and I come back battered and broken.

Again.

I am the world's worst girlfriend.

Doctor Moon bustles around me, placing my prosthetic eye on the tray next to me. With no eyelid to soften it, I shiver under the blank gray stare.

"For fuck's sake, Doc," I complain. "I feel like I'm staring at myself."

She clucks disapprovingly at me but turns the eye around in deference to my apparently delicate sensibilities. I'm not sure this is an improvement, because now I'm looking at a fairly complicated looking connection port that's to plug into my eye socket . I decide the ceiling is a better view for the time being.

There's a soft tug at my shoulder as Doctor Moon messes with one of my access ports. I'm fine until I hear the whir of a motor and contemplate the odd uniqueness of somebody doing a shoulder repair with power tools.

"Oh dear," she clucks disapprovingly. "Don't move, Colonel, I think you need a new cable in addition to the bolts."

"Um, okay?"

The cart she's brought in look like it would be more at home in our hanger than in a hospital, a thought reinforced when she starts pulling open small drawers revealing no end of nuts, bolts, wires, and other sundry parts that hold a good chunk of my body together. She makes her selection, then drops them in the sonic sanitizer as she pulls on a new set of gloves.

The sanitizer beeps and she pulls out her gear and sets to work. Five very odd minutes later she closes my hatch with a satisfied sigh. It's always weird to know someone is wrenching inside of my body.

"Alright, and now for your eye."

There's a disconcerting snick and pressure on my face as she seats the prosthetic eye into its base. She has a cable plugged into my implant, a piece of extremely complicated electronics that's attached to the side of my head. The other end of the cable is plugged into a R.A.a.V.A. unit and Dr. Moon stares at the attached monitor intently.

"Alright, your visual system is coming online… now."

My vision flickers strangely; there's a burst of static as my eye comes back to life, shoving data through an electronic port onto my optic nerve. Doctor Moon busies herself conducting a series of tests to make sure everything is functioning correctly, and I obediently move my arm and read letters on the wall until she's satisfied.

In the silence she leaves behind I sit back in the bed with a sigh, thinking I could really use someone to talk to. Then I chuckle and shake my head at my forgetfulness.

"Raava?" I ask into the empty room.

As expected the AI responds almost immediately. I'm a member of her network, after all. "Yes, Colonel Korra."

"How's Little Mouse doing?"

"Lieutenant Bolin is currently taking a short walk around the house."

I beam. "Awesome. Has he told you a bad joke yet?"

There's a pause. "I am uncertain. He did attempt to make an illogical correlation between a ship and a female humanoid that was implausible at best."

I roll my eyes. Bolin's bad jokes are the stuff of legend in the Space Fighter Corps, but no one has heard him make one in years. Not since the patrol mission that took the rest of his team. I feel the sting of tears in my one biological eye even as I grin. "Was the punchline that it's easier to be in a ship than a woman?"

"As a matter of fact it was." There's another pause. "I have been running a linguistic analysis of this statement for some time, but have yet to determine a reasonable explanation."

"Let's just say it involves a form of sexual innuendo."

To my surprise and amusement, the AI actually sighs, a strange digital sound. "I suspect I will never appreciate that mode of communication."

I chuckle. "You're probably better off." I resettle myself on the pillow, and decide to take advantage of her near omniscience with the hospital's security network. "Um. Can you see where Asami is?"

There's another pause as the AI has a look around; her connection to the hospitals security system allows her to see pretty much everywhere. The eventual answer surprises me.

"Doctor Sato is currently standing outside the door to this room, Colonel Korra."

I hurriedly sit upright. After a moment the door opens slowly, revealing the slightly puffy face of my girlfriend. I feel a lurch in my chest at her tear streaked cheeks.

"Asami," I begin, but she shakes her head and steps quickly across the room to my bed before crushing her lips against mine.

"I'm sorry," she breathes, nuzzling as close as she can. "I shouldn't have reacted like that."

I push her back slightly so I can see her face. "Honey, you're allowed to react." I want her to see the sincerity in my face. "It's okay for you to feel whatever you feel, okay?" I swallow hard. "I just know, it's hard to have a relationship with some one like…" I trail off then force myself to continue "If you need more time—"

She shakes her head and silences me again with a searing kiss. "No, not leaving. Not allowed. For either of us."

I feel myself sag with relief. "Okay."

"Okay."

I rub my hand against her leg, taking comfort as much as giving it. She leans against me with a contented hum. "Sweetheart?"

"Hrm?"

"I think there's a real shit show coming at us."

She laces her fingers with my other hand, and absently starts popping the access port on my prosthetic wrist open and shut, over and over. It drives me nuts, but she always does it when she's thinking hard, so I grit my teeth and let her finish her thought.

"My father was fascinated by the idea of the old Empire weapons development programs." She makes a slight face as she says this; I know her memories of her father are complicated, and this can't be a good association. "I think I need to go digging through his old records. There might be something there."

I frown. "Can't you have Raava help you with that?"

"There's really not enough data for her to be able to know what she's looking for, her recent experiments with intuition aside," she replies absently. "Besides, most of it's still paper, so she can't really help anyway."

"We're gonna have to get her a body so she can help," I joke.

Asami looks at me, her face growing thoughtful. "I'll have to think about that."

I feel my jaw drop. "I was kidding!"

She winks. "I wasn't."