In the fallout of the battle with Kuvira, Korra helps Asami deal with fresh wounds.

Chapter Text

(Book 4, episode 13)

Sea winds carried the scent of smoke across the bay.

Republic City was still smoldering.

The deck of the ferry rocked in the stillness of the night. Only the gentle sway of waves and hushed murmurs filled the air. Refugees heading for the shelter of the Air Temple, acolytes and airbenders heading home. Korra, heading for some measure of rest. Once more, she’d managed to reshape the world.

From the aft railing, she watched the bright column of spirit energy blazing out over the skyline of her city. Despite the destruction surrounding it, the portal was beautiful.

She felt the warmth beside her before Asami gently took her shoulder. Korra sighed. “I’m just going to sleep for a few weeks, if that’s okay with you,” she said, smirking.

Asami managed a thin, patient smile, but it was cracking under the surface. Together they stared out at the city, watching it slowly shrink into the distance.

Leaning into Asami’s arm, Korra studied the growing reflecting pools in her eyes. Before the sun had set, Hiroshi Sato had still been alive. He’d managed to save his daughter’s life and guarantee the victory of Republic City in one selfless gesture. And for all her effort and bravery, Asami Sato had earned a front row seat to her father’s violent murder. For a while, the rush of victory, of finding Korra safe at the spirit portal, had stifled her grief. But as the dust of the battle had settled, the full weight of her pain had begun to seep back in.

It was no wonder that Asami had barreled into an argument at the docks. Losing her composure as she demanded to join the emergency teams and supervise rescue efforts. Her foremen and site captains refusing to let her step anywhere but onto the deck of the Air Temple ferry. Out of harm’s way. The deck around them was filled with relief, uncertainty, and exhaustion. Asami was drowning in it.

“They weren’t trying to shut you out,” Korra said gently. “It’s their job to keep people safe. Isn’t this what they're trained for? What you pay them for?”

“It’s my company,” Asami muttered. “My machines out there. My people. And they won’t let me help.”

“CEO’s need to rest, too.”

Clamping down on the railing, Asami glared out at the smoke billowing up from the shells of buildings and the wreckage of Kuvira’s giant mech. “They don’t want me out there in case they find his body,” she said softly. The words gripped her throat.

Warm, firm fingers slipped beneath Asami’s grip and slowly pried her hand from the railing. When it finally gave way, Korra pulled Asami’s hand to her. “Do you feel this? Do you feel me?” She squeezed their hands tight against her collarbone.

Asami nodded vaguely.

“This is solid. I’m right here. And I’ll stay right here as long as you need me.”

The ghost of a smile touched Asami’s lips. “That might be for a while,” she breathed, letting her composure slip.

“Deal.” Korra threaded her fingers tighter around Asami’s hand.

They fell quiet for a time. Waves crashing harder against the ferry as they neared the shore of Air Temple Island.

Docking felt like it took hours. All the while, Korra stayed close. Watching the quiet hitches in Asami’s breath. The way she would stare at the ground for a long moment to pull herself back together. She was cracking. Minute by minute. Trying to keep everything pushed down inside of herself.

They got off the ferry together. Korra at Asami’s side, slowing her pace to keep in step. Her hand drifted to Asami’s back, gently leading her across the temple promenade. Staying silent, but close. At the back of her mind, Korra worried that she was treating Asami too delicately, like a child. But every time she looked up, she found tears threatening to fall, and she swore that she was not going to let Asami be alone tonight.

As they crossed a garden towards the women’s dormitory, Korra felt Asami take her hand. She held it firmly and they stepped into the dim hallway together. Acolytes were hustling around, distributing bedding and escorting refugees to the dozens of bedrooms.

“We’re going to be crowded tonight,” Korra said softly. “Tenzin’s offered the island as a shelter, and we’ve got enough space for at least another ferry of people.”

Asami didn’t answer. Her eyes held straight ahead, avoiding the strangers around them.

Korra slid open the door to her room, and ushered her inside. The quiet thrum of people surrounded them, echoing through the walls. She watched Asami step to the window, her hands pinned at her sides, clenched tight. She was barely holding on. Eyes filling with tears.

Moving beside her, Korra gently ran her hand along her shoulders. Her voice a calm whisper against her cheek. “There’s no one else here.”

It was all that Asami needed to hear to crumble.

Through all the pain and suffering in her life, Asami had survived. Even in the depths of despair or sadness, she had managed to keep her fears and anxieties mostly in check. She didn’t lose herself completely. But this morning, she had let herself hope again. Let herself feel safe. Losing Hiroshi like this…

It had shattered her.

Korra rushed to catch Asami as her knees buckled.

They sank to the floor together. Asami clung to Korra as sobs tore through her. Tears that had been threatening for hours finally fell in a torrent. Her voice broke with a wordless cry.

Korra cradled her, breathing slow and evenly, as though it would somehow calm both of them. When she had faced off against the Red Lotus, Korra had seen her father thrown from a cliff. All through the torture and poisoning and battle for survival, she had believed that her father was dead. Waking up to find him alive had lifted such a heavy weight from her soul.

Asami had lost Hiroshi in the mess of Amon’s war and his own twisted sense of honor. Years of struggling to find her feet again, of learning to heal. Then, she had suddenly found him again and reconnected. She had managed to stitch her family back together. Korra couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to wake up from the nightmare, only to plummet into another.

Korra’s eyes welled up with tears of her own, and she held on tighter. Stroking her fingers through Asami’s hair as she cried. Gently breathing her in. Korra could feel every sob as it wracked through her. She was in so much pain. In the moment, Korra could do nothing to make it better. There were no words she could say to soften this. But she could keep holding onto her. Each fresh bout of sobbing dug into Korra, and she finally let herself cry.

They held each other in the dark, not speaking. There was nothing to say. This raw grief and pain needed to be felt. Asami knelt, paralyzed on the floor, crying for her father, for the family she would never have again.

Korra wasn’t leaving. She wasn’t sure that she could leave Asami’s side ever again.

A deep cramp in Korra’s neck ripped her from sleep. Late night stillness filled the room. Stretching out a little on the floor, she wincing as her body ached. She was pressed against a leg of the bed. Alone. Asami had been laying against her for so long that Korra felt a sudden chill in her absence.

Quiet splashing came from the bathroom and she turned to find Asami wandering back into the room. Still in her jumpsuit, she patted her face dry with a towel. Asami had washed her makeup off, leaving her skin clean, smooth, free of the dirt and ash of the downtown war zone. Her eyes were still red and swollen, though. She’d been crying on and off for hours.

“Everything okay?” Korra asked, then immediately wished she had bitten the question back. It was idiotic. Simple. Of course nothing was okay.

Seeming to understand what she’d meant, though, Asami nodded.

Korra watched her shuffle back towards the bed, and felt like she was staring. Asami’s face was bare, and that somehow felt intimate, like Korra had invaded space she was not supposed to be.

There was a ferocity in how Asami fashioned her makeup. Precise and elegant. Korra had always thought it complimented her perfectly. It matched her fierce intellect, her refined breeding, her confidence.

Asami was always gorgeous. But Korra’s favorite thing about her was her eyes. Without the makeup, that green drew even more attention.

“What is it?” Asami said, pausing at the edge of the bed.

What Korra wanted to say was ‘You are beautiful,’ but now wasn’t the time. She wasn't even sure that she could manage a line like that on a normal day. “I don’t usually see you without your war paint on,” she said instead, risking a smirk as she yawned and stretched out the aches in her muscles.

“Sorry,” Asami sighed, “I had to clean something up.” She flashed a hint of a smile, and it felt like being given permission to look at her.

Korra returned it softly, and pat the mattress a few times. “Take the bed,” she insisted, “I’m happy to camp on the floor.” The twinge in her back muscles told a different story, but Korra didn’t want to crowd her after everything she’d been through today.

Asami opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. Hesitating.

Catching the look, Korra felt her face grow warm. “Or...we could share?” she ventured.

She got a silent nod at that, and Korra could suddenly breathe again. Prickles spread across her skin. Kicking off her boots, she climbed onto the bed and scooted against the wall, making as much room as she could.

Following her, Asami sat down to gently peel her own shoes off. Still caked with mud and dust. She laid back and sunk into the bed. They were both still in their clothes, on top of the blankets, but far too tired to care. Just lying on the mattress drew out a sigh from each of them.

The mattress squeaked as Asami tucked her bare feet up from the chill of the open air. Without much thought to it, Korra scooted closer and pressed her feet against Asami’s to offer some of her heat. Smooth, porcelain skin. She heard Asami exhale a little louder as she turned her back, but she didn’t pull away.

Silently, Korra watched Asami’s chest rise and fall with slow, even breaths. She wasn’t sure what Asami wanted, what she needed, but Korra was content to be a few inches away. From here, she could still feel her warmth, smell her hair. Her hand itched with the memory of holding her.

But they needed sleep. They needed to turn off their brains for a precious few hours and confront the morning with their energy recharged. Korra laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Acutely aware of how close Asami was.

Her skin broke out into bumps as the bed shifted. Asami slid over to press her back against Korra’s arm. Asami’s hand slipped back, searching for Korra’s. When she offered it, Asami took hold of it and squeezed for a solid moment. At her hip, their fingers settled into each other.

They lay there, silently holding hands in the dark. They had cried themselves into exhaustion. Through the window, the air still smelled of ash and smoke, like the faint hint of a distant bonfire. The waves crashed against the rocks on the shore.

The smoke, and the waves, and the warmth of Asami’s hand, lulled Korra into a heavy sleep that she’d couldn’t remember falling into.

Korra shuddered awake at a tight grip on her arm. Heavy breathing filled the air, and she found Asami sitting upright in the bed, knees pulled up to her chest.

“What happened?” Korra asked, groggy.

Asami was trembling. “I saw him,” she managed out through a sob, “I saw the hand come down, I saw his face. He was-”

That look was all too familiar. The year Korra had spent on her own, she had suffered quietly. Alone. Unable to calm her lungs, or quiet her own fearful, wounded mind. Wishing that someone had been there with her to settle the nightmares.

“It was a dream,” Korra said gently, pushing herself up. She wrapped an arm around Asami and hugged her. Fingers instinctively reaching out to thread through her hair in smooth, calm strokes. “You’re safe.”

Asami leaned into the embrace, her head resting against Korra’s. “I can still see it. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t...”

“I’m right here,” Korra whispered, kissing the side of her head. “Just breathe. That’s all you have to do right now. Just breathe.”

Taking a slow breath herself, Korra exhaled, waiting for Asami to do the same. All the while continuing to quietly murmur comforts. Promises that Asami wasn’t alone. That she was okay. That she was safe. After a moment, the words became a quiet music, and Korra began to hum. It was a soft lullaby from her childhood, a melody that had stayed deep within her and kept her heart close to her mother and to home.

Gently, Korra laid them back on the mattress and continued the quiet song under her breath. Finally beginning to relax, slowly breathing in and out, Asami’s grip softened as she sunk into the vibrations of Korra’s humming. The music drifted off as they eased back into sleep together.