Chapter Text

After the fight, there is very little speaking. The exhaustion is collective and palpable and once Kuvira is taken away in shackles and her remaining forces withdrawn a good distance away from Republic City, Korra, along with her friends and family, retreat to Air Temple Island.

A handful of acolytes help put together a quick meal for the recovering party. Though fatigue has overtaken any semblance of an appetite and she’d truthfully rather be alone, Korra accepts. Everyone is seated around the family table in the dining room and conversation is kept to a minimum as they eat.

Mako sits to her left and Korra notes that he's managing to make quick work of his food even with just one good arm. To Korra’s right, Asami is picking disinterestedly at the small pile of vegetables on her plate. There's a faraway look on her face, her green eyes unreadable and fixed on some unseeable point in space. As she watches Asami, Korra remembers that a dedicated task force is still out there, working through the rubble downtown in search of any survivors they might have missed during the initial blast. They’re also recovering bodies, or at least what's left of them.

Asami doesn’t notice herself being watched, so Korra sets down her chopsticks down and lowers her hand under table and discreetly places it over Asami’s, squeezing just slightly. She feels Asami squeeze back, then lace their fingers together. Finally, Asami looks up and their eyes meet. She's wearing the tiniest of smiles.

Korra leans over, intending to ask how she’s doing when Mako yelps loudly beside her and she drops Asami’s hand in surprise.

“Ow, Bolin, watch it!”

Mako has pulled his bandaged arm to his chest, a wince visible on his face.

“Ah, sorry,” Bolin says, sheepish. He’s holding the teapot that had earlier been placed at the center of the table. He must have brushed Mako’s arm while reaching for it.

Korra looks over to Mako and feels a twinge of guilt, thinking of the ugly red and raw patches of burned skin that lay hidden beneath the gauze. After everyone’s finished and the plates have been cleared, she insists on treating him to a healing session. It takes a few hours and several bowls of water, but Korra manages to minimize the worst of the burns. She apologizes, though, when she tells him she can’t prevent the injuries from scarring.

It’s nearly midnight by the time Korra retires to her room. Pema has kept it the way it was when she'd left three years ago, which is a little comfort. Tonight, she’s sharing her room with Asami. The number of unexpected guests at the island is high and people are doubling up. Fortunately, Korra is so physically sapped that she doesn’t have the energy required to feel nervous or awkward about these sleeping arrangements.

She does, however, have the energy to convince Asami to take the single bed, offering instead to sleep on a mat on the floor. Asami doesn’t let her win the argument so easily and it isn’t until Korra insists she’ll be more than comfortable sleeping against a very warm, very furry Naga that she finally relents.

Bones tired and body aching, Korra settles down on the floor with her head nestled against Naga's belly. Across the room, she hears the soft shuffling of blankets as Asami climbs into bed. It’s only a matter of minutes before the darkness pulls her in.

--

It’s Naga’s whine that wakes her. Heavy-lidded from deep slumber, Korra squints and makes out a figure moving about near the bed. Moonlight streams in through the window, silver glow tracing the lines of Asami’s silhouette.

The sound of rustling fabric – Asami must be changing clothes.

“Asami?”

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Korra sits up. “What’s up?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Asami is buttoning up her jacket. Is she going somewhere?

“Do you want to talk?”

“Not really.”

“Oh. Okay.” Korra wants to push harder, but decides to leave Asami to her thoughts, if that’s what she wants.

Asami walks over and sits down at the foot of the bed. Moonlight washes over her profile, catching on the angles of her cheekbones. The paleness of her skin is set aglow to ethereal effect. Korra can’t help but stare at Asami’s quiet beauty; moments like this, it’s hypnotic.

“Would you come somewhere with me?”

Though her body is begging for sleep, there’s only one answer Korra can give.

“Of course. Whatever you want.”

She pulls on her boots and throws a coat over her pajamas before following Asami out the door. They walk into the cool night in silence until they reach a motorcycle parked near the dock. Asami tells her that she’d left it here during her last visit, having only brought it because she’d promised Ikki a ride around the island (much to Tenzin’s chagrin).

When Asami takes the single helmet dangling from the handlebar and sets it down on the ground, Korra is tempted to comment on this unusual show of recklessness. But there’s something different about tonight, something about this particular moment that seems to grant permission to follow whatever path impulse chooses to cut. Maybe it’s fallout from the fight. Danger colored by thrill, rather than fear.

That and this is a side to Asami that she rarely gets to witness. And she really wants to see where it'll take them.

Asami pulls on leather gloves and climbs on first. As soon as Korra’s arms are wrapped around her waist, they’re off.

--

Downtown Republic City is a mess. Asami expertly maneuvers the bike around broken slabs of concrete, piles of scattered clay tiles, alarmingly large shards of glass, and thick, twisted trunks of newly sprouted spirit vine.

The wind whips Asami’s hair in her face, but Korra doesn’t mind. If anything, it’s a comforting sensation. Black, glossy strands dancing wild to speeds dictated by Asami as she urges the bike to go fast, faster.

Soon, they’re crossing the bridge that leads out to the mountains, the city behind them shrinking smaller with every passing minute. Korra cranes her head to watch – the spirit portal is but a single golden thread that disappears up into the clouds.

As they ride out farther, the multi-lane street narrows to a single asphalt road with rows of trees flanking either side. The night air smells different out here: cold and fresh, crisp and sharp. A stark contrast from the distinctly urban scents of Republic City.

Korra’s caught her second wind: the speed and the chill have beaten away her earlier drowsiness. Now, she's more aware than ever of the way her body is pressed against Asami. She can’t remember the last time they were physically close like this. It might even be the first time. Closing her eyes, she turns her head and leans closer, pressing her cheek into the center of Asami’s back. She thinks she feels Asami's breath hitch, but thinks nothing of it. The bike had just taken a particularly sharp turn.

By the time they’re spiraling up and around a mountain, she’s lost track of how much time has passed, how many miles they’ve traveled. They climb higher and higher, winding through shadowy trees along a rough dirt road.

Finally, the bike pulls forward out of the thicket and Asami brings it to a halt. Korra sees that they’ve arrived at a lookout point near the top of the mountain. Asami disembarks and helps Korra down before stepping out towards the edge of the rocky precipice. Korra follows. Before she even has the chance to appreciate the breathtaking view that stretches out before them, Asami directs her gaze to a single point in the distance where a group of heavy clouds are gathered over a lake.

Korra is about to ask what she’s supposed to be looking at until she’s silenced by a series of colorful lightning bolts forking out from the clouds. Blue and red veins of light strike back and forth, one after the other, streaks overlapping in quick succession. Then a golden burst followed by a lick of brilliant green. Each flash lights up the underbellies of heavy grey clouds, makes them pulse full with color. The lightning gains momentum, striking faster and faster in a brilliant tempest roiling yellow, green, blue, and red without cease.

They remind her of festival fireworks, but cosmic. Spontaneous. Haunting, rather than celebratory.

Asami watches the scene intently, her arms crossed over her chest. “I was wondering if it would look different,” Korra hears her murmur to herself.

“What is it? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“I’m still not totally sure,” Asami says. “But it’s a neverending lightning storm. It started three years ago and hasn’t stopped since.”

“Wow, really?”

Asami nods. “I got wind of it right around the time the northern and southern spirit portals were re-opened. The local fishermen saw it first. See over there where the lake meets the river?”

“Yeah.”

“The storm’s restricted to just that area where water from the river flows in. It might have to do with the mountains surrounding the area and the mixed temperatures of the water …” Asami’s eyebrows furrow in thought. “Meteorological factors definitely explain some things, but other things, like those colors? There’s no lightning in this world that looks like that.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty crazy looking,” Korra says.

“And there’s no thunder. It’s completely silent,” Asami says. “Also, up until now, the lightning was either red or blue. The yellow and green varieties are totally new to me.”

“So you think the new spirit portal has something to do with it now?”

“It must, right?” Asami asks. “I mean, they match up to the individual colors of the spirit portals. It’s why I wanted to come here … I sort of had a hunch. It’s possible that the ‘lightning’ isn’t even electricity – it could be spirit energy. Wasn’t there something like this in the Southern Pole?”

Korra thinks back to before the portals had been opened. It feels like a lifetime ago. “You’re right. The Everstorm. But that disappeared once I opened the portal …”

“Right, The Everstorm. That makes the connection even more obvious, right? Anyway, Varrick, Su, and I were planning on conducting a study to observe and measure the storm. We were going try channeling the lightning through metal rods, but couldn’t quite work out the logistics of how to ground the rods away from the water.”

Asami hugs herself, shuddering from the cold.

“Then the project got sort of lost once the whole mess with Kuvira and the Earth Empire gained momentum.”

She pauses.

“I guess you could prioritize it now, though?” Korra asks.

Asami nods. “Yeah. It’s good timing, now that we have these new changes to consider. It makes things easier now that its connection to spirit portals is more clear this time around ... I just wonder, do you think it could even be a spirit? Maybe even more than one? Even if it isn’t an actual spirit, the energy could still be sentient to some degree …”

Korra smiles at her. It’s a bit of a treat to watch Asami parse out her thoughts in real time.

When she notices Korra’s gaze, she fidgets and laughs self-consciously. “Sorry, I’m talking too much.”

Korra shakes her head. “No, not at all. I’m happy to listen. I’m glad you brought me here to see this. It’s really beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it? It looks more complete now, somehow. “ She sighs. “It’ll be nice to focus attention on smaller projects like this now that things are calmer. Though I guess Future Industries Tower being totaled is another thing I have to deal with … ”

Asami’s apprehension is one she can share; rebuilding Republic City will be a monumental task that will probably take years longer than the post-Vaatu recovery. She isn’t sure what words of comfort she can offer and each passing second of silence is felt.

Asami bites her lip. “Maybe it’s better this way. Starting fresh from the ground up sounds like something I can manage. Razing things down might be easier than trying to pick up the pieces again.”

Korra can hear her breath catch on those last few words, voice trembling softly. Asami turns her face just out of Korra’s sight.

“You know, I can handle change. I can adapt to whatever life throws my way.” Her voice is just a hair above a whisper. “I’ve been doing it my whole life. But sometimes things happen so fast, all at once … I just don’t have the time to dam up every little thing I’ve lost.”

And there it is, the terrible thing no one’s been able to mention. Even Asami herself can’t say it, can only bring herself to allude to it. It’s too fresh, too soon.

She’s crying now. Her back is fully turned away from her, but Korra can hear it. It is a horrible, delicate sound, like a small bird caught between thorny branches, tiny wings fluttering helplessly.

It’s tenderness she wants to offer, but words have run dry, so instead, Korra steps closer and tentatively loops her arms around Asami, locking her in a soft embrace from behind.

They stand like that for a while and Korra can hear Asami’s breathing return to normal. Asami lets out a short laugh.

“I’m so busy. All of the time. It helps me to not think about things. But the few moments that I’m not, when there’s nothing left to do … everything comes flooding in and the quiet is just too much to take.”

Her voice breaks again, barely perceptible. Korra holds her tighter, buries her face in her hair, breathes the scent in.

“I’m sorry,” she tells her. “But is this okay now?” She means the quiet of this moment, the two of them here like this. She means her, herself here like this, with her. Is it enough, does it help, she wants to know, to stay with her like this.

Asami turns around to face her, still caught in her embrace. The green of her eyes is bright even through the dark, gleaming just slightly from recently shed tears.

She nods slowly. “I’ve been wanting to show you the storm ever since I first saw it.”

“I’m glad I’m seeing it now.”

The familiar tension settles between them again, filling the narrow space between their bodies. Asami’s face is so close that Korra can make out the deep black of her pupils ringed bright with emerald.

“I missed you,” Asami breathes.

Korra wants to apologize, wants to say sorry for being gone, wants to tell her that when she’d left Republic City, she didn’t imagine it would be years before she would see her again. But ‘sorry’ doesn’t seem right. Doesn’t feel like the right sentiment to express, especially now that she can feel and hear Asami’s every breath. Instead, she offers a simple truth.

“I thought about you a lot.”

Surprise flickers in her green eyes. She almost misses it.

“That’s … really?”

Korra can’t help herself. She touches Asami’s cheek, cups it. Her skin is warm, soft. She runs her thumb gently over the slope of her cheekbone.

“Yeah.”

When Asami leans into her touch, Korra wants nothing more than to kiss her, to show her “yes” without using words. It would be so much easier that way. But Korra can sense a woundedness in her, has heard as much from the tremor in her voice. There’s something that’s been rising to the surface the whole night, a certain kind of fragility that threatens to break and overflow. As difficult as it is, she quashes this impulse. For her, she can be patient.

Then something changes. Pink and blue lightning flash dangerously close to where they stand, leaving a warm purple glow in their wake. The soft light plays across Asami’s face, illuminating her features in a wash of lavender.

Asami leans forward, closing the distance between them. It’s a kiss sweet and electric, and she thinks she can hear Asami emit a tiny sigh. A sublime little sound.

Korra feels arms sling over her shoulders, hands playing at the short strands of her hair. But before long, a sliver of concern weaves itself through the warm haze and pulls Korra back down to earth. She wants to do this the right way, wants to be sure that Asami is sure. Doesn’t want this moment to subsist on the kind of hastiness that is often borne from vulnerability. She pulls away as gently as she can.

Asami bites her lip and her open face carries an expression of uncertainty. She looks away, embarrassed, and attempts to pry herself loose from Korra’s hold.

Luckily, Korra has the good sense to stop her.

“I just want to make sure … Asami, are you –“

“Please don’t ask if I’m okay,” she says softly.

A small part of her wants to point out that it’s a question Asami often poses her.

“I want to know that you’re sure about this,” Korra starts. “Not that I don’t trust your judgment, but it’s just … Are you sure? If this isn’t a good time …” She trails off. Each consecutive word uttered from her mouth comes out sounding more awkward than the last.

“I’ve been sure for a while now,” Asami says. “And nothing that happened today is going to change that, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Asami lifts her chin and looks her square in the eye. “The only thing I wasn’t sure of was whether you’d even want the same thing.”

Korra has never quite figured out how Asami can so easily put words to her thoughts. How she manages to turn questions into statements (because she’s asking, isn’t she?). For her, it’s the opposite. Always stumbling and disjointed, the act of funneling feelings through sentences is a constant struggle. Even now she’s failing, even when her feelings have never been more steady, sure, and unwavering.

Korra decides to forsake words entirely, opting instead to use a language more physical and familiar to her.

She grasps either side of Asami’s face and kisses her firmly, tangles fingers through dark, soft hair. Her lips move and coax confidently, extracting each and every one of Asami’s responses. Nimble little bites, tip of tongue searching, exploring, circling back hungrily to savor again and again.

Asami’s hands play at her sides, stroking and gripping, slender fingers slipping under her shirt. Soft fingertips trace patterns on her skin. When Korra pulls back, she sees that Asami is smiling. Their foreheads touch and they both laugh a little, at once nervous and relieved. They’re still new to this, this feeling that they possess bounties of time and quiet. It’s almost decadent.

For the next few hours, they reap what the night offers them, kissing in length and pausing to talk about things both trivial and lofty. The peace is a gift that’s not to be wasted. It’s a chance for Korra to fill in some gaps, content to ask questions to give her a clearer sense of what she’d missed from Asami’s life while she was gone.

When they’re both too tired to talk, Asami allows herself to be held by Korra. In the distance, the storm churns and shudders cool and warm in a rich spectrum of fluctuating color.

Dawn arrives, peeling back the cloud cover of the storm to reveal the warm light of morning. They decide to head back. On the ride over, something in Korra stirs. A kind of wholeness that feels warm and full and new.

--

The motorcycle pulls up to Air Temple Island with a loud rumble. It’s still early and Korra would have guessed everyone would still be sleeping, but when she and Asami walk towards Tenzin’s home, she spots Bolin, Opal, and Pema talking near the front gate.

“Hey! You guys are up early,” Bolin says. “I didn’t think anyone else was awake.”

Opal gives Korra a curious look. “Did you go somewhere?”

She shifts uncomfortably, pulling her coat tighter over her pajamas. “Um …”

“Just a brisk morning ride,” Asami says smoothly. “Why are you up?”

Bolin makes an excited sound. “Varrick and Zhu Li are getting married! Tomorrow!”

“What, really?” Korra asks.

“The ceremony is being held here,” Pema says. “They came by to ask. Well, demand, really, but all the same. It’ll be a welcome distraction.”

Bolin jumps a little, his hands clasping and unclasping like an excited child.

“We’re going to help plan – I get to officiate and read the vows and everything!” He looks to Korra and Asami. “Do you guys want to help with decorations?”

“No,” Korra answers quickly. Opal giggles and Bolin whines in disappointment.

“But that’s exciting news!” she offers. “We’re – Um, I’m going to go catch some more Zs. Se you later.”

Korra thinks she sees Pema wink at her before heading inside the house. When they reach the hallway that leads to her room, Asami catches her by the hand and they walk like this the rest of the way.

When they step inside, Naga greets them with head nuzzles. Korra strips off her coat, getting ready to lie back down on the mat she’d left unrolled on the floor.

“You shouldn’t sleep on the floor,” Asami says. Korra turns around in time to see her undo her jacket, revealing a white tank top underneath. When she stoops down to pull off her pants, Korra blushes and turns around in a hurry. Behind her, she hears Asami climb into bed.

“Come on. That can’t be comfortable.” Asami is patting the space next to her on the mattress.

Korra nods wordlessly and joins her, settling in slowly. Still nervous, she tries, a little too hastily, to pull the heavy comforter up over her shoulders. Asami watches her struggle for a bit, smiling at her awkwardness before helping to cover them both with the blanket.

She’s looking at her now, head propped up on one elbow and wearing a serene expression on her face. Korra still isn’t used to this closeness between them, has not yet acclimated to the idea that she can just look at her, really look at her for as long as she wants. It feels like a luxury, almost, especially now with the golden morning light streaming gently into the room. Even now, with the calm, her heart pounds wildly.

Asami reaches forward to stroke a lock of brown hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She’s smiling that tiny smile again. “Nervous?”

Korra nods. Asami closes her eyes, then moves forward to close the very narrow gap between them. She places the smallest of kisses on the corner of her mouth, then another, back to the center, lips brushing lips, but just barely. A whisper more than a kiss, really. Still, it sends forth tendrils of heat throughout her body and soon she’s aflame.

“Me too.”

This little admission reassures Korra just a bit. Emboldened, she reaches over Asami’s shoulder to where her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. She finds the elastic band and pulls gently, slides it down, loosing long, black hair slowly until it falls in a glossy curtain over her shoulders, locks unfurling across the slope of her collarbones. Korra stares, mesmerized.

Asami bends down to kiss her and she responds in earnest, tasting and savoring the softness of her lips.

When they finally pry themselves apart, Korra instructs her to turn around. Asami turns to face the wall and settles down into the bed. Korra encircles one arm around her waist, lets her wriggle back until their bodies are flush against each other. With her other hand, she brushes away strands of hair to press a kiss to the nape of her neck. Like the rest of her, it’s impossibly soft and warm.

Under the blankets, Asami’s shirt has ridden up on her abdomen where Korra’s arm falls over it, revealing a strip of bare skin that Korra touches gently. Her hand rubs light, slow circles until they both lose consciousness, surrendering easily to sleep.